CHAPTER XXVI

IN DISGUISE

The sudden disappearance of the white figure that for an instant had been visible behind the lattice, and the quickly uttered words bidding him go back, were sufficient warning to Takvor. Almost overcome with joy, he hurried down the street, keeping close to the wall. Having gone some distance, from where, unobserved, he might see all who entered or left the house, he stopped and forced himself to sit down and wait. He had discovered Armenouhi, but could scarcely convince himself that he was not dreaming. Still it was true; there stood the big, old house, just the kind in which he should expect to find her, and the sound of her voice was ringing in his ears. Her rescue was now but a matter of time, for sooner or later the means of escape would be found. But his excessive joy was abruptly terminated by the torturing questions that began to rack his brain. For more than an hour he sat watching the house; and when nobody appeared, he slowly walked past the window, but heard no sound. The whole afternoon the old house seemed deserted; only once, just at nightfall, was the door opened, and the old servant, hobbling with her stick, crossed the street to the goat which was tethered there. Unable to remain after dark without exciting the suspicion of the watchman, Takvor returned to the inn for the night.

In the doorway was the innkeeper, a good-natured, sympathetic Greek, to whom Takvor had confided his troubles. He noticed Takvor’s hurrying steps, and the changed expression on his face, and he heard with delight the result of the day’s search. Late that night they were awake planning the rescue. They agreed that to use force, or to appeal to the authorities, would surely result in failure; and they decided that the wisest course was to watch the house, cultivate the friendship of its occupants, if possible, and then at some unguarded moment steal Armenouhi away. It was the time of the year when the Turkish women, so completely concealed by their veils that even their own husbands often failed to recognize them, delighted to pass their leisure hours, singly or in groups, in some shady spot outdoors. The edge of the ravine, cooled by the rushing water below, was one of their favorite haunts; for there they might sit unobserved from morning to night. It was the innkeeper’s suggestion that Takvor, dressed as a female, should sit before the chaoush’s house, to find some way to communicate with Armenouhi. The innkeeper’s wife provided the necessary clothing, and carefully drilled him in the manners of an old Turkish woman.

The next morning a slightly built female figure, piously veiled, and leaning on a long stick, slowly shuffled up the street, and sat down in a shady nook by the ravine, not ten yards from Armenouhi’s window. The high-pitched voice of a eunuch could be distinctly heard within, interrupted occasionally by lower softer tones that were lost in the sound of the tumbling waters.

Early in the forenoon the old servant led out the goat to graze along the ravine. A little later the chaoush went down the street, and soon returned, driving a covered carriage. He stopped before the door and called to the eunuch, who soon appeared, followed by three women. The plump Shareef was there, with face but partly covered. The second, a slight, graceful form, but completely concealed beneath a heavy black firadji, seemed to be Armenouhi. The one with head wrapped in a white yashmak was the ancient servant. They climbed into the carriage, and the chaoush drove them slowly over the rough stones down the hill. When they were disappearing round the corner, the bent figure rose and shuffled down the street as fast as an old Turkish lady could travel, yet always keeping the carriage in sight. It soon became evident where they were going, yet the figure followed. Half the afternoon the old woman spent by the roadside near the bath, and then followed the carriage back to the house. At sunset she shuffled down the street and was lost to view.

Early the next morning, Takvor, for it was he, was again at his post, and again he heard the voices within, one chatting merrily, the other responding cheerfully. Toward noon the voices ceased; evidently Armenouhi was alone, and he watched eagerly for the white form behind the lattice. Presently, when he thought somebody was approaching the window, he turned toward it, and with a pious ejaculation suddenly removed the veil as if to rearrange it. The form within moved still closer to the lattice. Again he lifted the veil, and slowly allowed it to fall back to its place. Almost instantly he heard a low soft voice singing a familiar air.

“Takvor, is it you? Is it you, Takvor?” were the words fitted to the melody.

Again uncovering his face, and leaving it exposed somewhat longer than before, he was bending forward to indicate that he had understood, when the song was interrupted by another voice.

“I was singing,” Armenouhi explained, in answer to the almost unintelligible squeak of the eunuch. “Surely you cannot forbid that.”

“No, child, sing all you please.”

Takvor sat looking down through the bushes to the water. Presently he again heard the low singing.

“Be careful, be careful, for I am closely guarded.”

But before he had time to indicate that he had understood, he heard Shareef’s voice. Satisfied with his morning’s work, for the ability to communicate with Armenouhi was another step toward her rescue, he returned to the inn to rest. Later in the day when he was again in his customary place, he heard Armenouhi’s voice singing so softly that the words were hardly audible.

“Is it you, Takvor?”

He swayed forward in reply.

“You must be very careful, and come only in the afternoon, when I am sometimes left alone.”

Thus, as the song continued, Takvor learned the purpose for which the chaoush detained her. She was already trying to persuade her captor to permit her to sit by the ravine, and perhaps in time, when she had greater freedom, she could escape. The singing, which had continued for some time, once more apparently aroused the eunuch’s suspicions, for he again entered Armenouhi’s room, this time with his master.

“Let her sing as much as she likes,” said a deep voice, which Takvor recognized as belonging to the chaoush; “it shows that she is happy.”

“She sings in Armenian,” piped the eunuch; “and who can tell what she says?”

“Then let her sing in Turkish.”

“It shall be only in Turkish,” assented Armenouhi; “or if you wish, I will not sing at all.”

Takvor had already learned what he most desired. If Armenouhi was destined for the royal harem, her person was sacred; her care and food were the best the chaoush could afford, and would remain the best until she was taken to Yildiz, or the soldier changed the purpose for which he intended her. The day had brought him success, and at the sound of Shareef’s voice in the room, he rose and hobbled down the hill to share his joy with the innkeeper.

Following Armenouhi’s instruction, Takvor did not appear about the house during the morning, but spent the time in making inquiries about the soldier and his family. In the afternoon he was again at the ravine, waiting for a sign of recognition. He waited in vain. The sun set; the old servant led the goat into the house; the little groups of Turkish women were leaving the hill; and Armenouhi had not appeared. At last he thought he saw a form behind the lattice, and presently his ear caught the humming of a Turkish air. It gradually grew louder, until he could distinguish the words of the familiar proverb, “Patience is the key of joy.” He was now assured of her safety, and he returned to the inn.

The following afternoon the continual stream of talk coming from the window informed him that Armenouhi was still there. He made no effort to attract her attention, and was sitting looking into the ravine when the door opened and the chaoush, followed by a closely veiled figure and the plump Shareef, crossed the road, and sat down almost at his side. Not a sign of recognition passed between them. “To-morrow,” thought Takvor, “she may be left for a moment unguarded, when I can speak to her; and then very soon may come the opportunity to carry her away.” All that afternoon until sunset he did not move, fearing that his manner might arouse suspicion; and it was only after the chaoush had taken Armenouhi into the house, that he returned to his lodging.