But he had no idea of abandoning his purpose; in fact, he was already too deeply involved to be able to do so. His arrangements went on rapidly; and when all was ripe, the Georgian gave information to the sultan, denouncing me as a party as well as my brother.

One morning as I was sitting in my apartment, arranging on a tray a present for my lord and master, I was surprised by the abrupt entrance of the Kislar Aga, accompanied by guards, who without explanation seized me, and led me into the presence-chamber, where the sultan and all the officers of state were assembled. It immediately rushed into my mind that my brother had deceived me. Pale with anxiety, but at the same time with a feeling of delight that the plot had been discovered, I entered the divan, where I beheld my brother in the custody of the palace-guard. He had been seized in the divan, as his popularity was so great, that a few minutes' notice would have enabled him not only to escape, but to have put his treasonable plans into execution; but he bore himself with such a haughty air, with his arms folded across his breast, that I thought he might be innocent; and that he had, as he promised me, abandoned all thoughts of rebellion.

I turned towards the sultan, who fixed his eyes upon me; his brows were knit with anger, and he commenced, "Zara, your brother is accused of treason, which he denies. You, also, are charged with being privy to his designs. Answer me, do you know anything of these plots?"

I did not know how to answer this question, and I would not tell a lie. I did know something about his intentions; but as he had denied the charge, it was not to be expected that he should be condemned by the mouth of his only sister. Perhaps he had, as he had promised me, abandoned his ideas;—perhaps it could not be proved against him. My answer would have been the signal for his death. I could not give the answer required, and I replied, "If my brother be found guilty of rebelling against his sovereign, let him suffer. I, my lord, have never plotted or rebelled against you."

"Answer my question, Zara. Do you know anything about this plot? Yes or no. Say no, and I shall believe you."

"Your slave has never plotted against her lord," replied I. "Further I cannot answer your question."

"Then it is true;—and Zara—even Zara is false!" cried the sultan, clasping his hands in agony. "O! where can a person in my situation find one who is faithful and true, when Zara, even Zara is false?"

"No—no, my lord," cried I, bursting into tears; "Zara is true;—always has been, always will be, true. That I can boldly answer—but do not press the other question."

The sultan looked at me for a short time, and then consulted with the viziers and others, who stood by the throne with their arms folded. The chief vizier replied, "Those who know of treason, and conceal it, are participators in the crime."

"True—most true. Zara, for the last time I ask you, what do you know of this intended insurrection? I must be trifled with no longer. A plain answer, or——"

"I cannot answer that question, my lord."

"Zara, as you value your life, answer me immediately," cried the sultan, with violence;—but I answered not.

Twice more did the forbearance and love of the sultan induce him to repeat the question; but I remained silent.

He waved his hands, I was seized by the mutes, and the bowstring encircled my neck. All was ready, they awaited but the last signal to tighten the fatal cord.

"Once more, Zara, will you answer; or brave me to your destruction?"

"Sultan, I will at least speak to you before I die. I only wish to declare my fidelity and my love to you in my last moments, to tell you that I forgive you for that which, when the truth is known, you will never forgive yourself. One moment more. Let me remove this jewelled chain from my neck, now superseded by the bowstring. You presented it to me when convinced of my attachment and my love. Take it, sultan, and when you find one as faithful and as true, present it to her; but until you do so, wear it in memory of Zara. And now let me throw my veil over those features which have always beamed with love and delight on you, that when I am dead, and you call them to your recollection, they may be as you have been used to see them, and not black with convulsions and distorted with agony. My lord, my dear and honoured lord, farewell!"

The sultan was deeply moved; he turned away his head, and covered his face with one hand, while the other dropped at his side from the intensity of his feelings.

Although it never was so intended, this dropping of his hand was considered as the signal for my death. The string was tightened, and buried itself, cutting deeply into the flesh of a neck once as fair and smooth as the polished marble of Patras. For the first moments my torture was excruciating—my eyes were forcing out of their sockets—my tongue protruded from my mouth—my brain appeared to be on fire—but all recollection soon departed.

* * * * *

"Staffir Allah! God forgive me! but are you not laughing at our beards, old scarecrow? What think you, Mustapha?" continued the pacha, turning to him. "What is all this but lies?"

"Lies!" screamed the old woman. "Lies! you tell me they are lies! Well, well—the time has been. Pacha, after what I have suffered by telling the truth all my life, it is hard, in my old age, to be told that I lie; but you shall be convinced," and the old woman put her hands up to the shrivelled, pendent skin of her neck, and stretching it out smooth, showed a deep blue mark, which encircled it like a necklace. "Now are you satisfied?"

The pacha nodded his head to Mustapha, as if convinced; and then said, "You may proceed."

"Yes, I may proceed; but I tell you, pacha, that if you doubt what I say once more, I will return your twenty pieces of gold, and hold my tongue. I proved that I could do it as a young woman, and we become more obstinate as we get old."

"That is no lie," observed Mustapha. "Continue, old woman, and we will not interrupt you with doubts again."

* * * * *

My brother, who had watched every motion of the sultan's, and who had determined to reveal all rather than that I should suffer, when he perceived the fatal mistake, which he did not till some moments afterwards, uttered a loud cry, and attempted to burst from his guards. Roused by the cry, the sultan looked up, and perceived what had taken place. In a moment he darted from his throne, and was kneeling by me with frantic exclamations. The mutes hastily tore away the bowstring, but I was, to all appearance, dead.

"Yes, sultan, well you may rave," exclaimed my brother; "for you have good cause. You have destroyed one who, as she declared with her last breath, was most faithful and most true. I acknowledge the conspiracy. I told her my intentions, and she thought that she had succeeded in preventing me, for I promised by the three to abandon my design. She has been faithful both to you and to me, for she believed that, although accused, I had atoned for my fault by repentance."

The sultan looked earnestly at my brother, but made no answer. He embraced me, at one moment bursting into tears, in the next calling for assistance. I was removed to my apartments, and after some time, the physicians succeeded in restoring me to life; but I was for many days confused and dizzy in the brain, during which time every attention and care was lavished on me. One evening I felt sufficiently recovered to speak, and I demanded of my attendants what had taken place. They informed me that the mutes, who had mistaken the signal, had been impaled, and that the Janissaries had risen and demanded my brother, whose execution had been deferred by the sultan; but that on the commotion taking place, by order of the grand vizier,—my brother had been executed, and his head thrown out to the rebellious troops, who had been dispersed, and had since been brought to subjection, and some hundreds of the ringleaders had been executed. I turned away at this intelligence, for I loved my noble but misguided brother. The movement occasioned excruciating pain, which arose from the deep wound made by the bowstring in my neck.

The next morning I rose, that I might contemplate my person in the mirror, and I at once perceived the alteration which had taken place. There was a certain degree of distortion of features which I thought would never be removed. I felt, that although the sultan might respect me, I could not expect the same influence and undivided attention as before. With a heavy heart I threw myself on the couch, and planned for the future. I reflected upon the uncertain tenure by which the affections of a despot are held, and I resolved to part. Still I loved him, loved him in spite of all his cruelty; but my resolution was made. For six weeks I refused to see the sultan, although he inquired every day, and sent me magnificent presents. At the end of that period I had recovered, and all that remained from the effects of the bowstring was a slight wrinkling of the skin from distension, and the deep blue mark round my neck which I have just shown to your highness.

When I first admitted the sultan, he was much affected. "Zara," said he, mournfully, "I swear by the holy prophet that I meant not to give the signal."

"I believe you, my lord," replied I, calmly.

"Neither did I intend that your brother should suffer. I meant to have gained your favour by his pardon."

"He was a traitor, my lord, an ungrateful traitor, and deserved his death. So may all like him perish."

"And now, Zara, may I hope for your forgiveness?"

"On one condition, sultan; and swear that you will grant what I require."

"I do, by Allah!"

"It is, that you send me back to my own country."

Not to detain your highness by dwelling too long upon what passed, it will suffice to say, that notwithstanding the entreaties of the sultan, and the pleadings of my own heart, my resolution was immovable. Every arrangement was made for my departure, and during the preparations, the sultan was continually with me, persuading me to abandon the idea. The magnificence and liberality which he showed in the costly presents bestowed upon me, that I might return with honour and wealth to my own country, more than once made me waver in my resolution. The evening before my departure he made a last attempt, but in vain. My refusal was at least softened by the tears which I shed, for now that the time of departure was so near, I felt how truly, how devotedly I was attached to him. We parted; I threw myself on the couch, and wept till the dawn of day, when I was summoned to commence my journey.

As your highness may be aware is the custom, when my brother was executed, all his property was seized by the sultan, and distributed among the favourites. The new capitan pacha who succeeded my brother was called Abdallah, and was said to be an excellent soldier. Part of my brother's property was made over to him, and among the rest the Georgian slave, who had been the ruin of my brother, and had so fatally destroyed my happiness. To show me every attention and respect, the sultan had ordered Abdallah in person to escort me to my own country, with a picked body of cavalry. The cavalcade was magnificent—treasure had been heaped on treasure—present upon present; twenty women of my own country, and numerous slaves had been permitted to attend upon me, and the procession wore the appearance of a pageant. I ascended my litter with an aching heart; and, journeying by easy stages, arrived at the land of my nativity. The borders were passed, and Abdallah requested me to write an acknowledgment that he had done his duty, which the sultan would require of him upon his return. I gave him the paper, and, professing many wishes for my future happiness, he assembled his troops, and the escort turned the heads of their neighing steeds towards the city, where my heart had truly been left behind.

It will now be necessary to revert to the Georgian slave, who had been presented to my brother by the sultan, and had afterwards been made over to Abdallah. When she heard that I was about to depart for my own country, loaded with presents, her rage was without bounds. Already had her beauty and talents made great impression upon Abdallah, and she soon won him over to a plot which would be advantageous to him, at the same time that it would throw me, whom she distrusted, into her power. She proposed to Abdallah that, after having escorted me to the frontiers, and received from me the acknowledgment required by the sultan, he should follow my small escort of slaves, cut them to pieces, take possession of me and all my treasure, and return with it to Constantinople, where I might be immured in his harem. The avarice of Abdallah was not able to withstand the temptation, and aware that there was no chance of the nefarious transaction being discovered by the sultan, he agreed to the proposal. On the second night after we had parted with Abdallah, a body of horsemen galloped down upon us, and all my attendants, male and female, were massacred. I was seized, put into a sack, and thrown across a horse, and as soon as the treasure could be collected, they set off at a rapid pace. I was nearly dead when they halted, and when I was removed from my painful situation I fainted away.

Abdallah had never seen my face; the soldiers reported me dead, and he was glad when he heard of it, for it was only to please his wife that he had promised to bring me back. He walked up to where I lay, and was, even in my miserable situation, enamoured with my beauty. His heart acknowledged that I was the most valuable of all his plunder. Every care and attention was bestowed upon me, and after several hours' halt to allow me to refresh myself, I was placed in a small litter, and our journey recommenced. He was studious to obtain my favour: at first I spurned him: but when he told me that the Georgian slave had instigated him to the deed, and had insisted that he should bring me back, I well knew for what purpose, and thought only of revenge. I feigned to be less averse to him, and before our journey was over, had used all my powers of fascination with triumphant success. At last our wearied horses arrived at Stamboul, and after waiting in the suburbs till the evening closed in, that the cavalcade might not attract attention, it proceeded to the house of Abdallah, and I was once more in the precincts of a harem. The Georgian slave hastened to meet me when she was informed of our arrival, and taking off her slipper, she struck me contemptuously on the mouth, with such force as to cause the blood to flow.

"Now, sultana," cried she, "the day is mine; again shall you receive the bastinado. Aye, and again shall the bowstring be applied to your proud neck, and more effectually than before." She then ordered her slaves to strip me, and put on the meanest attire. When that was done, she spat in my face, and left me without speaking; but the flashing of her eyes gave evidence of the fiery passions which were raging in her bosom.

In the meantime, Abdallah had proceeded to the palace, to present to the sultan the document proving my safe arrival, and having so done, he hastened back to his own house. As soon as he entered the harem, instead of visiting the Georgian slave, who had arrayed herself for his reception, he inquired of the astonished women in which chamber I had been accommodated. They hesitatingly replied, pointing it out to him. He entered, and found me clothed in a slave's dress, with my face covered with blood. When I stated the treatment I had received, and the further threat of the bastinado and the bowstring, his rage was beyond all bounds. Ordering all the women to attend me, he quitted me, that I might resume my own dress, intimating that he hoped that I would allow him to sup with me that evening. My desire for revenge induced me to grant his request, and he quitted the harem to look after the treasure of which I had been robbed.

In the meantime, the other women had communicated to the Georgian slave all that had occurred, and she was frantic at the information. Fearful of her, I kept my door fast until the arrival of Abdallah, who sent to inquire whether I would receive him. He was admitted, and again expressed his indignation at the conduct of my rival, offering, as a proof of his attachment, to abandon her to my resentment. I had no time for reply before the door was burst open, the Georgian flew in and aimed her dagger at my heart. Abdallah had sufficient time to ward the blow, and as the weapon passed through his left arm, with his right hand he dashed her on the floor. Pale with rage and pain he called his people. "She threatened you, Zara, with the bastinado and the bowstring. She has sealed her own doom."

By his orders her slippers were torn off, and she received fifty blows of the bastinado; then, as she screamed with pain, and held up her hands for mercy, the mutes were summoned, and the bowstring was applied. My revenge was more than satiated, and I covered up my eyes that I might not be a witness to the dreadful spectacle. When I removed my hands, I found Abdallah only in the apartment, and my rival lying a blackened corpse upon the floor.

For three years I remained in the harem of Abdallah, and, if not happy, was resigned to my fate. He was devotedly attached to me, and, if I could not return his love, I was not deficient in gratitude. At last a second war broke out between the Turks and Russians, and Abdallah was ordered to put himself at the head of his troops, and drive the invaders back to their regions of frost and snow. As was the custom with Turkish commanders, all his harem accompanied him, and after travelling about from one territory to another, sometimes in pursuit of, and at others retreating before the enemy's forces, we were shut up in the fortress of Ismael, with orders to defend it to the last.

I shall not weary your highness with a detail of what occurred. I shall only say, that after the town had been nearly reduced to ashes, by the shells and shot, which had set fire to it at least one hundred times, it was taken by storm, with immense slaughter. We sat in our apartments, listening with terror to the alternate shouting and shrieking—the noise of the bursting of the shells, the whizzing of the balls, the cries of the wounded, and the terrific roaring of the flames, which were now consuming the whole town in their fury. At last our doors were burst open, and the enemy entered. We screamed, and would have fled, but in vain. What became of the rest I know not, but I was dragged over the dead and the dying, through smoke and through flame, until I fainted away with terror and exhaustion. When I recovered, I found myself in a hut, lying on a small bed, and attended by two bearded monsters, whom I afterwards discovered were Cossacks. They were chafing my limbs with their rough hands, without the least regard for decorum. As soon as I opened my eyes, one of them poured a little spirits down my throat, and wrapping me up in a horse-cloth, they left me—to meditate upon my misfortunes.

I discovered that evening that I had, by the fortune of war, become the property of a Russian general, who had no time for making love. With him it was all ready made, as a matter of course. Still he was a handsome man, and when not tipsy, was good-humoured and generous; but the bivouacs, even of a general, were very different from the luxuries to which I had been accustomed. I lived badly, and was housed worse. It so unfortunately happened, that my protector was a great gambler, as indeed are all Russians; and one morning, to my surprise, a handsome young officer came into the tent and the general very unceremoniously handed me over to him. My beauty had been made known in the camp, and the Russian general, having the night before lost all his money, had staked me for one thousand sequins, and had lost. My new master was a careless, handsome youth, a colonel in the army; I could have loved him, but I had not time; for I had not been in his tent more than three weeks, before I was again gambled away, and lost to a major. I had hardly time to make myself comfortable in my new abode, when I was staked and lost again. In short, your highness, in that campaign I was the property of between forty and fifty Russian officers, and what with the fatigue of marching, the badness of provisions, and my constant unsettled state of mind and body, I lost much of my good looks—so much, indeed, that I found out that instead of being taken as a stake of one thousand sequins, I was not valued at more than two hundred. I can assure your highness that it is no joke to go through a Russian camp in that way—to be handed about like a purse of money, out of one man's pocket into another's. I assure you, that before the campaign was over, I had had quite enough of the Russians, and only wished that the Turkish army might rout them, and I could find myself once more in a harem. It was then that I first lamented over my hard fate, and that of the sultan. It was then that I first used the expression, when I thought of my condition, and that I said to myself, "The time has been."

At last the army was ordered to march back, and being then the property of a Cossack, he put me on a pony, and made me keep up with the squadron, driving me before him with his long spear, sometimes sticking the point into the rear of the pony, and sometimes into me, by way of a joke. But I had not been more than ten days on the retreat, before he sold me, pony, bridle, saddle, altogether, as a bargain, to an infantry officer, who as soon as he had taken possession, made me dismount, while he got in the saddle, desiring me to lay hold of the pony's tail and follow him. When they halted, he made me wait upon him, and do everything which he required. In the morning he mounted again, and I had to walk after him, as before. This was hard service for one who had been the favourite of the sultan. For a week I contrived to hobble after him, but it was impossible to go on any longer. We passed through a town, and as soon as we were clear of the gates and he did not watch me, I let go the tail of the pony, and escaped without his perceiving it. I regained the town, and faint with hunger and fatigue, sat at the steps of a large house. A lady, dressed in rich furs and sables, came out, and perceiving that my dress was foreign, stopped, and inquired of me who I was. I told her in a few words: she ordered me to be received and taken care of. A few days afterwards she sent for me, and I then narrated to her my history. She was kind and generous, and I became her head attendant; I was contented and happy, and hoped to die in her service. But my misfortunes were not half over. My mistress was a lady of rank, and much esteemed. Her house was always full of company: she was rich, and gave most splendid entertainments. Her husband had been dead about two years, but she was still very young, and exceedingly beautiful. One evening, when there was a large party assembled in her rooms, the door was opened, and an officer came up to her and whispered in her ear. She coloured, trembled, and said that she would be ready in an hour. I was near her at the time; she beckoned to me, hastened to her room, and burst into a flood of tears.

"I am ordered to Petersburg immediately, on a charge of treason. My conscience tells me that I have done nothing; but, alas! for me, the emperor has no mercy. Ekaterina," for that was the name I went by, "will you accompany me?—it will be a long, and a melancholy journey. God knows how it may end."

I immediately consented—packed up what we required, and without disturbing those who were enjoying themselves, we gained the courtyard, and took our seats in a britska, in company with the officer. In four days we arrived at Petersburg, and my mistress was separated from me and thrown into prison. She never saw her accusers or her judges; her memorial to the emperor was disregarded, and she was condemned—but her punishment was not immediately decided upon.

For three weeks my mistress remained in prison. I was, by the humanity of the officer, who had the charge of her, allowed to visit her for a few minutes every day; but it was always in the presence of a third person. One morning when I came, the poor lady fell upon my neck and sobbed a long while without speaking; the countenance of the officer was also melancholy to a degree, and I perceived that a tear occasionally trickled down his manly cheek.

"Ekaterina," said she, at last, "I have heard my sentence, and am to be punished to-morrow. O God! forgive them their cruelty and injustice;" and she sank from my arms upon the floor of the dungeon.

We raised her, and she recovered a little. "Yes, Ekaterina, I am to be punished to-morrow for a crime of which I am innocent—a punishment—God have mercy!—worse than death. The knout—the knout—and that attended with public exposure in the market-place. May God forgive the emperor his cruelty!"

I had heard of this dreadful punishment, but little thought that women suffered by it. It was too barbarous.

* * * * *

"I have not heard of it," said the pacha. "Tell me, old woman, is it worse than the bastinado?"

"Yes, your highness. It is a whip of enormous power, so that if the executioner has a private order, he can kill the party on whom it is inflicted by two or three blows; but your highness will better comprehend the nature of the punishment when I describe what I witnessed."

My dear mistress begged me, as a favour, that I would attend her to the place of execution, and I consented. Poor creature! she, as well as I, had but an imperfect idea of what she was to endure. The punishment was to take place in the great square, and the troops were out, and a large concourse of people were assembled. She appeared on the raised platform upon which she was to suffer, in a genteel undress, which contributed still more to heighten her extreme beauty. The sweetness of her countenance obtained for her the commiseration of those who were ordered and accustomed to execute the will of the despotic and cruel emperor. Young, lively, and admired, sought for, and caressed by everybody, high in rank, and rich in worldly wealth, she stood, no longer surrounded by the attentions and homage due to her talents, her beauty, and her wit, but surrounded only by stern executioners. She looked at them with astonishment, seeming to doubt if such preparations could be intended for her. One of the executioners then pulled off a kind of furred tippet which covered her bosom; her modesty taking the alarm, made her start back a few steps; she turned pale and burst into tears. Her clothes were soon afterwards all stripped off, and in a few moments she was all naked to the waist, exposed to the looks of a vast multitude, who were all profoundly silent. One of the executioners then seized her by both hands, and turning half round, threw her on his back, bending forwards, so as to raise her feet a few inches from the ground, and the other executioner, with his rough hands, and without symptoms of remorse, adjusted her on the back of his companion, in a posture most convenient for her to receive her punishment. Sometimes he pressed his large hands brutally upon her head, in order to make her keep it down: at others, like a butcher handling a lamb, he appeared to soothe her until he had fixed her in a favourable attitude. He then took the knout, a whip made of a long strip of leather, prepared for the purpose; he retreated a few steps, measuring the requisite distance with a steady eye, and looking backwards, gave a stroke with the end of the whip, so as to carry away a slip of skin from the neck to the bottom of the back; then striking his feet against the ground, he took his aim for a second blow, parallel to the former, so that in a few moments all the skin of her back was cut away in small slips, most of which remained hanging to her shift and dress below. I fainted with horror long before the punishment was over. "Good heavens!" thought I, "I have suffered the bastinado and the bowstring, but both were merciful compared to this. Is there no God in heaven to punish such despotic cruelty?" My mistress was not dead, and the surgeons were ordered to pay her every attention, that she might recover; and I thought this attention on the part of the emperor in some measure made amends for his barbarity. But, God in heaven! she was restored to life that she might be more cruelly punished; for no sooner was she able to bear this infliction, than they cut out her tongue, and then banished her to Siberia.

Thus, O pacha! was my beautiful mistress treated upon mere suspicion, for guilty she never was. I had been permitted to see her previous to her latter punishment, and she fancied, poor thing, that the emperor's wrath had been appeased, and that she would have been permitted to return home, but her tongue was cut out without her receiving any warning of the second punishment which awaited her, and after that I was refused admittance, and I never saw my beautiful and ill-treated mistress any more. It was from the officer who had the charge of her that I learnt this cruel intelligence, and I went back to my lodgings with a heart bursting with grief and indignation.

I was resolved that, if possible, I would escape from a country where women's tongues were cut out; but how to manage it I knew not. I had still some money and valuables, which had been left in my possession by my unfortunate mistress, and I made inquiry about the means of proceeding to Constantinople, where, at least, I should be in a civilised country. At last a Jew, who heard that I wished to go to the southward, offered to take me with him as soon as the snow was on the ground, for which I bargained for five hundred roubles. In a fortnight the winter had set in, and we got into a drotski, and went away. We arrived at Moscow, and from thence we at last gained Constantinople. On my arrival I selected my luggage, that I might pay the sum agreed; but it was snatched from me by the old rascal, who saluted me with a kick in the body which half-killed me. I was locked up in a room, and in half an hour a slave-merchant came, and I was sold for a low sum and taken away, remonstrating in vain against the injustice. My beauty was now gone, I was more than thirty years old, and hardship had done the rest.

My subsequent life has been nothing but a series of changes and disasters. I was sold to a pastrycook, and broiled by standing over the oven. I grew obstinate and was punished by blows, but for those I cared not. The pastry was burnt, and I was resold to a barber, whose wife was a shrew, and half-killed me; fortunately the barber was accused of shaving a criminal, who had escaped from prison, and one morning was stretched out before his own door, with his head under his arm. His wife and I were both sold again as slaves.

Thus did I go down-hill each year, fetching less and less, and receiving worse treatment, until I was embarked with several others by an Armenian, who was bound to Smyrna. The vessel was captured by an Algerine pirate, and for a long while I was kept on board to cook their victuals. At last she was wrecked on this coast; how I escaped I know not, for I was weary of life. But I was thrown up, and made my way to this place—where I have for many years lived in company with an old wretch like myself, supplicating alms. He died about a year ago, and left me in the hovel by myself. I still beg for my subsistence; and now, pacha, you have my story, and I think you will acknowledge that I may well say that "Time has been."

* * * * *

"It is your kismet, your destiny, good woman. There is but one God, and Mahomet is his Prophet," observed the pacha. "You are dismissed."

"And the gold, your highness," whispered Mustapha.

"Let her retain it. Has she not been a sultana?" observed the pacha, with some appearance of feeling.

The old woman's ears were keen, she had heard the question of Mustapha, and she had heard the reply of the pacha; and she easily imagined the rest.

"And now, pacha, before I quit your presence, as I have enjoyed your bounty, I will, with your permission, offer you a piece of advice, which, from my knowledge of the world and of people's countenances, may be of no small service to you. Is it permitted, O pacha?"

"Speak," replied the pacha.

"Then, pacha, beware of that man who sits beside you; for there is that in his face which tells me that he will raise himself upon your fall. Pacha, beware!"

"Hag of Jehanum!" exclaimed Mustapha, rising from his seat.

The old woman held up her finger, and walked out of the divan.

The pacha looked suspiciously at Mustapha, for he was of a suspicious nature; and Mustapha looked anything but innocent.

"Doth my lord give ear to a lying tongue of an old woman?" said Mustapha, prostrating himself. "Hath not your slave proved himself faithful? Am not I as dust in thy presence? Take my life, O pacha! but doubt not the fidelity of thy slave."

The pacha seemed pacified. "What is all this but bosh, nothing?" said he, rising and quitting the apartment.

"Bosh!" muttered Mustapha. "The cursed old hag! I know better—there is no time to lose—I must be quick. When will that renegade return from Stamboul? It is time." And Mustapha, with a gloomy countenance, quitted the divan.



Chapter XXII

Although the pacha, with the usual diplomacy of a Turk, had, so far from expressing his displeasure against Mustapha, treated him with more than usual urbanity, he had not forgotten the advice of the old woman. Suspicion once raised was not to be allayed, and he had consulted with his favourite wife, Fatima. A woman is a good adviser in cases of this description. The only danger which could threaten the pacha was from the imperial court at Stamboul; for the troops were devoted to him, and the people of the country had no very serious cause of complaint. By the advice of the favourite, the pacha sent as a present to Mustapha, a young and handsome Greek girl, but she was a spy in the service of the favourite, and had been informed that the vizier had been doomed. She was to discover, if she could, whether there was any intercourse between the renegade, who commanded the fleet, and the vizier, as from that quarter alone danger could be anticipated. The Greek had not been a week in the harem of Mustapha, before she ascertained more than was sufficient. The fleet had been sent to Constantinople, with presents to the sultan from the pacha, and its return was hourly expected.

It was on the afternoon of this eventful day that the fleet hove in sight, and lay becalmed a few miles in the offing. Mustapha hastened to report it to the pacha, as he sat in his divan, hearing complaints, and giving judgment, although not justice. Now when the pacha heard that the fleet had returned, his heart misgave him, and the more so, as Mustapha was more obsequious and fawning than ever. He retired for a short time from the divan, and hastened to his favourite, Fatima.

"Pacha," said she, "the fleet has arrived, and Mustapha has already communicated with the renegade. Depend upon it you are lost, if you do not forestall them. Lose no time. But stop," said she, "do not alarm the renegade by violence to Mustapha. To-morrow the fleet will anchor, and if there is mischief, it will not arrive until to-morrow—but this evening, you will as usual send for coffee, while you smoke and listen to the tales which you delight in. Drink not your coffee, for there shall be death in it. Be all smiles and good-humour, and leave me to manage the rest."

The pacha smoothed his brow and returned to the divan. Business proceeded as usual, and at length the audience was closed. The pacha appeared to be in high good-humour, and so was the vizier.

"Surely," said Mustapha, when the pipes were brought, "his imperial highness, the sultan will have sent you some mark of his distinguished favour."

"God is great, and the sultan is wise," replied the pacha. "I have been thinking so too, Mustapha. Who knows but that he may add to the territory under my sway by another pachalik?"

"I dreamt as much," replied Mustapha, "and I am anxious that the renegade should come on shore; but it is now dark, and he will not leave his vessel."

"We must drive away the mists of suspense by the sunbeams of hope," replied the pacha. "What am I but the sultan's slave? Shall we not indulge this evening in the water of the Giaour?"

"What saith Hafiz? It is for wine to exalt men, and raise them beyond uncertainty and doubt. It overfloweth us with courage, and imparts visions of bliss."

"Wallah Thaib, it is well said, Mustapha," said the pacha, taking a cup of coffee, presented by the Greek slave. Mustapha also received his cup. "My heart is light this evening," said the pacha, laying down his pipe, "let us drink deep of the forbidden juice. Where is it, Mustapha?"

"It is here," replied the vizier, drinking off his coffee; while the pacha watched him from the corner of his small grey eye. And Mustapha produced the spirits, which were behind the low ottoman upon which he was seated.

The pacha put aside his coffee, and drank a large draught. "God is great; drink, Mustapha," said he, handing him the bottle.

Mustapha followed the example of the pacha. "May it please your highness," said Mustapha, "I have without a man, who they say hath stories to recount more delightful than those of Menouni. Hearing that he passed through this city, I have detained him, that he might afford amusement to your highness, whose slave I am. Is it your pleasure that he be admitted?"

"Let it be so," replied the pacha.

Mustapha gave the sign, and to the surprise of the pacha, in came the renegade, commander of the fleet, accompanied by guards and the well-known officer of the caliph, the Capidji Bachi, who held up a firman to his forehead.

The pacha turned pale, for he knew that his hour was come. "Bismillah! In the name of the Most High, O officer, whom seekest thou?" exclaimed the pacha, with emotion.

"The sultan, the Lord of Life, has sent this to you, O pacha! as a proof of his indulgence and great mercy." And the Capidji Bachi produced a silken bowstring, and at the same time he handed the fatal scroll to the pacha.

"Mustapha," whispered the pacha, "while I read this, collect my guards; I will resist. I fear not the sultan at this distance, and I can soften him with presents."

But Mustapha had no such fellow-feeling. "O pacha!" replied he, "who can dispute the will of heaven's vicegerent? There is but one God, and Mahomet is his Prophet."

"I will dispute it," exclaimed the pacha. "Go out and call my trustiest guards."

Mustapha left the divan, and returned with the mutes and some of the guards, who had been suborned by himself.

"Traitor!" exclaimed the pacha.

"La Allah, il Allah! there is but one God," said Mustapha.

The pacha saw that he was sacrificed. He read the firman, pressed it to his forehead, in token of obedience, and prepared for death. The Capidji Bachi produced another firman, and presented it to Mustapha. It was to raise him to the pachalik.

"Barik Allah! praise be to God for all things," humbly observed Mustapha. "What am I but the sultan's slave, and to execute his orders? On my head be it!"

Mustapha gave the sign, and the mutes seized the unfortunate pacha.

"There is but one God, and Mahomet is his Prophet," said the pacha. "Mustapha," continued he, turning round to him with a sardonic smile, "may your shadow never be less—but you have swallowed the coffee."

The mutes tightened the string. In a minute a cloak was thrown over the body of the pacha.

"The coffee," muttered Mustapha, as he heard the pacha's last words. "I thought it had a taste. Now he's sent to Jehanum for his treachery." And all the visions of power and grandeur, which had filled the mind of the new pacha, were absorbed by fear and dismay.

The Capidji Bachi, having performed his duty, withdrew. "And now," exclaimed the renegade, "let me have my promised reward."

"Your reward—true. I had forgotten," replied Mustapha, as the pain occasioned by the working of the poison distorted his face. "Yes, I had forgotten," continued Mustapha, who, certain that his own end was approaching, was furious as a wild beast, with pain and baffled ambition. "Yes, I had forgotten. Guards, seize the renegade."

"They must be quicker than you think for," replied Huckaback, darting from the guards and drawing his scimitar, while, with his fingers in his mouth, he gave a shrill whistle. In rushed a large body of soldiers and sailors of the fleet, and the guards were disarmed. "Now, pacha of one hour old, what sayest thou?"

"It is my destiny," replied Mustapha, rolling on the floor in agony. "There is but one God, and Mahomet is his Prophet." And Mustapha expired.

"The old fool has saved me some trouble," observed the renegade. "Take away these carcases, and proclaim Ali as the new pacha."

Thus perished the two barbers, and thus did Huckaback, under the name of Ali, reign in their stead. But his reign, and how long it lasted, is one of the many tales not handed down to posterity.

THE END