It was shortly after I had become absorbed with my Arabic course that an event occurred that was to have an effect on my entire life.

It all started innocently enough one evening when, on arrival back at the pension, I was surprised to find a type¬written envelope marked ‘Personal’ addressed to me. It contained a neatly printed card from Paul R and it “requested the pleasure of my attendance” at a banquet and dance to be held at the Swiss Club at the end of April.

The following morning I telephoned Paul at his office, thanking him and confirming that I would very much like to attend but, knowing that for a soirée of this nature the guests would most likely be en grande tenue, I would have to come in uniform. Would that be acceptable? He promptly assured me that there was no need to worry on that score as it was almost certain that some of the other club members would also be inviting servicemen whom they had befriended.

So, the evening of April 25th (I well remember the date) found me sharing a table, laden with good fare, with Paul, his wife Lilli, and several members of his office staff, some of whom I had previously met. During the meal a four-piece orchestra provided pleasant back¬ground music. When the meal was over it was “all hands on deck” to assist in clearing the tables and chairs to make space for the dance-floor and when this was done, the band launched into the music for the first dance. It happened to be the Marie Elena waltz – I remember it well – and several couples immediately took to the floor.

I found myself standing alone, but it must have been less than two minutes before Paul appeared, quite suddenly, escorting a most attractive dark-haired young woman attired in a strikingly beautiful white ball-dress.

At first glance I could see, from her deportment, that she was of a good family – in fact she appeared to have a regal bearing but, even so, I was not expecting to hear Paul’s opening remarks.

“Tom, I would very much like to introduce you to Princess Nahidé Kadjar,” and, turning to the young beauty at his side, he explained, “Thomas Soars is a very good friend of mine from England. Before the war, he was an employee of the insurance company for which I am the representative here in Egypt.”

I was completely taken aback, not knowing whether to bow respectfully or to shake hands but, fortunately, the Princess took the initiative by holding out a white-gloved hand for me to shake.

Then, boldly, I asked her, in French, as it was in this language that Paul had introduced her, if she would care to dance. Without any hesitation she acquiesced and, guiding her carefully by the arm, I led her out onto the dance floor.

As we merged into the swirl of dancing couples she enquired, in French, how long I had been in Egypt and during the course of the dance we exchanged the usual pleasantries. We chatted mostly in French but I also discovered that she had a fairly good knowledge of English which, she assured me, she was keen to improve.

During the course of that evening she took to the floor for almost every dance, again with myself, as well as with some of the young Swiss fellows present, with whom she appeared to be on friendly terms.

I also danced with some of the other ladies present and, towards the end of the evening, after one of these dances, I looked around for the princess but was unable to see her. Approaching my friend Paul, I enquired as to her whereabouts and he confirmed, to my chagrin, that she had just taken her leave, accompanied by a member of her family who had arrived to escort her home.

He noticed my disappointment.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll probably have further opportunities to meet her.”

“Tell me, Paul,” I enquired. “Is she really a royal personage?”

“But of course,” he replied. “A genuine Persian princess. Her father is a Prince of the old Kadjar ruling family of Persia. It so happens that her mother is a Swiss subject by birth and the family is highly regarded in our local community.”

“I really enjoyed making her acquaintance, short as it was,” I said. “But I doubt whether I’ll ever have the pleasure of seeing her again.”

“Oh, you never know…” replied Paul.