Some weeks afterwards Khourabene entered our kitchen followed by a very ugly woman who looked a good deal older than himself, and whom he introduced to us as his wife Sarah. I asked him what had become of his little "Gorda," and he said that he had made over his right in her to another relation, and I fancy that Sarah must have been thrown into the bargain as a sort of make-weight. I looked the bride over to see what feature I could compliment, and was able, with truth, to praise her small hands and feet. She was a poor depressed-looking thing, but raised her eyes with a faint pleased smile on hearing what I said. However, Khourabene seemed quite proud of her, and though my suffrages were gratifying they evidently were not needed to increase his admiration.
The word "settled," which has become a sort of colloquial synonym for married life with us, does not at all apply to that estate amongst natives. The passion for roving, as I have already said, is stronger in the women than the men; so that natives with wives are far less desirable as servants than those who are single. Poor old Sarah, however, seemed no great gadabout, and everything might have gone on comfortably, only that just about this time Khourabene came in for another legacy in the shape of a second wife. This was his brother s widow whom, by native customs, he inherited as if she had been an estate, with the liberty of cutting off the entail if he thought good, by bestowing the property upon another native, a privilege of which my husband earnestly begged the heir to avail himself, as we knew that the widow was a good-for-nothing creature, and
