We also give quantities of luncheons and teas, and are sick
of going to each other's entertainments; yet we're so furious if there's
anything we're not invited to, we nearly get jaundice. I do
myself--though I hate running about promiscuously; and I spend hours
thinking up ingenious lies to squeeze out of accepting invitations I'd
have been ill with rage not to get. And there are factions which loathe
each other worse than any mere Montagus and Capulets. We have rival
parties, and vie with one another in getting hold of any royalties or
such like, that may be knocking about; but we who hate each other most,
meet at the Governor's Palace and smile sweetly if French people are
looking; if not, we snort like war-horses--only in a whisper, for we're
invariably polite."
Stephen laughed, as he was meant to do. "What about the Arabs?" he
asked, with Victoria's errand in his mind. "Is there such a thing as
Arab society?"
"Very little--of the kind we'd call 'society'--in Algiers. In Tunis
there's more. Much of the old Arab aristocracy has died out here, or
moved away; but there are a few left who are rich and well born. They
have their palaces outside the town; but most of the best houses have
been sold to Europeans, and their Arab owners have gone into the
interior where the Roumis don't rub elbows with them quite as
offensively as in a big French town like this. Naturally they prefer the
country. And I know a few of the great Arab Chiefs--splendid-looking
fellows who turn up gorgeously dressed for the Governor's ball every
year, and condescend to dine with me once or twice while they're staying
on to amuse themselves in Algiers.
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