Our visit was a short one, but as the master of the house led the way to the door, I lingered behind, and was rewarded by a glimpse into the _zenana_. It differed but little in appearance from the other room; the carpets were guiltless of any linen-cover, the walls were more brilliantly painted, cushions and pillows were scattered about, and the three inmates were on tiptoe of expectation as we passed. Two faces I saw; one old and wrinkled, the other young and pleasing. “An old wife and a younger rival” was the conclusion I arrived at, and their dress bore out this idea. The elder wore nothing but pure white; the younger was gorgeous in green and crimson silk. Just a glance, and it was over: the child I have mentioned was being caressed by the third wife, whose back was towards her companions, and another child was lying asleep among the pillows. But for the presence of the children, it would have seemed dulness personified, as signs of occupation or amusement there were none. So much for the bit of quiet home life in Cabul: how monotonous it must be, none can tell, except, perhaps, those who have to endure it!
The dress of the Afghan women, especially those whose husbands have rank or wealth, is extremely picturesque. A short, tightly-fitting bodice of green, blue, or crimson silk, confines the bust, but buttons so closely up to the throat, that one can only guess at the proportions of shoulders and bosom. The bodice is generally embroidered with gold, and then becomes so stiff and unyielding, that it is virtually a corset. In this cold weather the short arms of this _sari_ are continued down to the wrist, and the vest itself is padded with wool for the sake of warmth. Trousers _à la Turc_, baggy and flowing as Fatima’s, and tightly fastened at the ankles with gold or silver bands, a broad silk _kummerbund_ of almost endless length about the waist, with the ends so disposed that they become skirts; dainty white socks and a tiny slipper or shoe, gold-embroidered—such is the indoor dress of a Cabuli lady; while covering and hiding all save feet and ankles is the voluminous white garment drawn over the head and face, and falling to the heels. These veiled beauties wear jewellery alike about the forehead, hands, wrists, arms, ankles, and ears; while handsome gold loops secure the _yashmak_ at the back of the head; the hair being drawn from the forehead and tied tightly into a knot, Grecian fashion. The length of a silk _kummerbund_, which encircles a lady’s waist, is sometimes astonishing: one I saw must have been 12 yards long by 18 inches broad, and the end was even then not forthcoming. The slippers and shoes are of Cabuli make, and are very pretty. On a pale green ground beautiful patterns are worked with gold and silver thread and particoloured silk, until the effect is more like that of a fairy slipper than one for daily use. When a stout leathern sole is put on with high heels rudely bound with iron, the work of art is complete. The stalls in which these slippers and shoes are made are the gayest in the whole bazaar. A Cabuli lady’s foot is small, almost to deformity, and the baggy trousers by contrast make them appear exceedingly _petite_.