Used vulgarly, as we have all sometimes seen it
used, after misleading and crazing a small portion of sensitive persons,
it must fall to the ground."[1]
Early in February, 1879, her book _A. E. I._ came out, and the publisher
was so pleased with it that he gave a party in honour of the authoress.
There were seventeen guests, and there were seventeen copies of the book
piled in a pyramid in the middle of the table. After supper one was
given to each guest. They must have made a merry night of it, for
Isabel notes that the gaieties began at 11 p.m. and did not end until 5
a.m. Notwithstanding this auspicious send-off, the book did not reach
anything like the success achieved by her first work, _The Inner Life
of Syria_.
The longest leave comes to an end, and it was now time to return to
Trieste. Burton started ahead as was his wont, leaving his wife to
"pay, pack, and follow." She paid and she packed, and when she was
leaving the house to follow a beggar woman asked her for charity. She
gave her a shilling, and the woman said, "God bless you! May you reach
your home without an accident." She must have had the Evil Eye; for
the day after, when Isabel arrived in Paris, en route for Trieste, she
tumbled down the hotel stairs from top to bottom, arriving at the bottom
unconscious. She was picked up and put to bed. When she came to herself
she exclaimed, "Do not send the carriage away; I must get my work done
and go on.
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