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Updated: June 22, 2025
After all, his only authority for the marriage and decease of Bedeea was the "Arabian Nights," which was not unimpeachable evidence. What if she were alive and waiting for the arrival of the bridegroom? No one but Fakrash would have conceived such an idea as marrying him to a Jinneeyeh in Westminster Abbey; but he was capable of any extravagance, and there were apparently no limits to his power.
"By Jove, you are a trump!" cried Horace, only too glad to be able to commend with sincerity. "And do you think, if I went to him now, I should find him the same as usual?" "Nay," said Fakrash, with his weak and yet inscrutable smile, "that is more than I can promise thee." "But why?" asked Horace, "if he knows all?"
And after this, Ventimore thought, Fakrash would have the sense and good feeling not to interfere in his affairs again. Meanwhile he could sleep now with a mind free from his worst anxieties, and he went to his room in a spirit of intense thankfulness that he had a Christian bed to sleep in.
As he spoke they drove through some temporary wooden gates into the courtyard, where the Honourable Artillery Company presented arms to them, and the carriage drew up before a large marquee decorated with shields and clustered banners. "Well, Mr. Fakrash," said Horace, with suppressed fury, as he alighted, "you have surpassed yourself this time.
If you won't, Sylvia, I must. And you will spare me that? Let us both agree to part and and trust that we shall be united some day." "Don't try to deceive me or yourself, Horace," she said; "if we part now, it will be for ever." He had a dismal conviction that she was right. "We must hope for the best," he said drearily; "Fakrash may have some motive in all this we don't understand.
"Good evening." But Fakrash was already gone. In spite of all he had gone through and the unknown difficulties before him, Ventimore was seized with what Uncle Remus calls "a spell of the dry grins" at the thought of the probable replies that the Jinnee would meet with in the course of his inquiries.
Clearly Fakrash must have taken a mental note of it, and, with that insatiable munificence which was one of his worst failings, had determined, by way of a pleasant surprise, to entirely refurnish and redecorate the apartments according to his own ideas.
"If he wants me he'd be quite equal to coming on to the club after me," he reflected, "for he has about as much sense of the fitness of things as Mary's lamb. I shouldn't care about seeing him suddenly bursting through the floor of the smoking-room. Nor would the committee." He sat up late, in the hope that Fakrash would appear; but the Jinnee made no sign, and Horace began to get uneasy.
"In the days of old," said Fakrash, "all men pursued wealth; nor could any amass enough to satisfy his desires. Have riches, then, become so contemptible in mortal eyes that thou findest them but an encumbrance? Explain the matter." Horace felt a natural delicacy in giving his real reasons. "I can't answer for other men," he said.
"It is agreed," said Fakrash, "for I am confident that Bedeea will accept thee joyfully." "We shall see," said Horace. "But it might be as well if you went and prepared her a little. I suppose you know where to find her and you've only twenty-four hours, you know." "More than is needed," answered the Jinnee, with such childlike confidence, that Horace felt almost ashamed of so easy a victory.
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