Mrs Langley addressed to the poor captive a few reassuring words, and led her away, leaving the Colonel to amuse himself with Agnes.

"What has she been sent to us for?" asked Agnes.

"To be a serv—a companion to you and baby, my pet."

"That was kind of the Dey, wasn't it?" said the child.

"Well—ye-es; oh yes, doubtless, it was very kind of him," replied the Colonel.

We fear that the Colonel did not fully appreciate the kindness that resulted in the gift either of Paulina Ruffini as his servant, or of Sidi Hassan as his attendant, for he saw clearly that the former was unaccustomed to menial work, and he knew that Sidi Hassan was a turbulent member of the community. However, being a man of prompt action, and knowing that it was of the utmost importance that he should stand well in the good graces of the Dey, he resolved to receive Paulina into his establishment as governess of the nursery and companion to his wife, and to leave Sidi Hassan very much to the freedom of his own will, so long as that will did not interfere with the interests of the consulate.

On the return of his wife he listened to her pathetic account of Paulina's sad history, and then produced the letter to which he had referred on first entering.

"This letter necessitates my riding into town immediately. It is a curious document in its way, therefore lend me your ear."

Opening it he began to read. We give it verbatim et literatim:—

"To the brittish Cownsul algeers.

"7 teenth Jully, 18—

"Sur i'm an irishman an a sailer an recked on the cost of boogia wid six of me messmaits hoo are wel an arty tho too was drowndid on landin an wan wos spiflikated be the moors which are born divls an no mistaik. I rite to say that weer starvin but the Kaid as they cals the guvner Here says heel take a ransum for us of 150 spanish dolars the Kaid has past his word in yoor name to the moors for that sum or theyd hav spiflikate us too. I hope yer onor has as much to spair in yer pokit, an will luke alive wid it, for if yoo don't its all up wid me mesmaits inkloodin yoor onors obedent humbil servint to comand ted flagan."

"Well, I hope, with poor Flaggan," said Mrs Langley laughingly, "that you have as much to spare in your 'pokit,' for if not, it is plain that the poor fellows will be led into captivity."

"I would readily advance a larger sum for so good an end," replied the consul, folding the letter. "I shall at once ride into town to make arrangements, and as it is so late, will pass the night in our town house. I shall send our new attendant, Sidi Hassan, on this mission, and leave you for the night under the guardianship of Rais Ali."

The consul left immediately, and next morning Sidi Hassan set out for Bugia with the necessary ransom.

In regard to this we need say nothing more than that he accomplished his purpose, paid the ransom, and received the seven British seamen, accompanied by whom he commenced the return journey, he and his men riding, and driving the sailors on foot before them as though they had been criminals. On the way, however, they were attacked, not far from Algiers, by a body of predatory Arabs from the Jurjura mountains.

These bold villains, at the very first onset, killed more than half of the Turkish escort, and put the rest to flight. Six of the sailors they captured and carried off, but Ted Flaggan, who was an exceedingly active as well as powerful man, proved himself more than a match for them all. During the melee he managed to throw himself in the way of one of the best-mounted among the Arabs, who instantly charged him, but Ted sprang aside and let him pass, ducking low to avoid a cut from his curved sword.

Before he could turn, the Irishman ran close to his side, seized him by the burnous, at the same time grasping his bridle, and pulled him out of the saddle with such sudden violence that he fell headlong to the ground, where he lay quite stunned by the fall. Flaggan instantly sprang into the saddle, as if he had been an accomplished cavalier, though in reality he knew no more about horses than an Esquimaux. However, a man who was accustomed to hold on to a top-sail-yard in a gale was not to be easily shaken off by an Arab charger. He clung to the high saddle-bow with one hand, and with the other grasped his clasp-knife, which he opened with his teeth. Therewith he probed the flanks of his fiery steed to such an extent that he not only distanced all his Arab pursuers, but overtook and passed his own escort one by one, until he reached Sidi Hassan himself. He then attempted to pull up, but the clasp-knife had fired the charger's blood in an unusual degree. With a wicked snort and fling that lifted Flaggan high out of the saddle, it rushed madly on, left the pirate captain far behind, and at length dashed through the Bab-Azoun gate of Algiers, despite the frantic efforts of the guard to check or turn it. Right onward it sped through the street Bab-Azoun, scattering Turks, Moors, Jews, negroes, and all the rest of them like chaff; passed the Dey's palace, straight along the street Bab el-Oued; out at the water-gate, with similar contempt of the guards; down into the hollow caused by the brook beyond; up the slope on the other side, half-way towards the summit, on the opposite side of Frais Vallon, and was not finally pulled up until it had almost run down the British consul, who chanced to be riding leisurely homeward at the time.

"You seem to have had a pretty sharp run, my man," said the consul, laughing, as the Irishman thankfully jumped off, and grasped the bridle of the now thoroughly winded horse.

"Faix an' I have, yer honour; an' if I haven't run down an' kilt half the population o' that town, wotever's its name, no thanks to this self-opiniated beast," replied Flaggan, giving the bridle a savage pull.

"You're an Irishman, I perceive," said the consul, smiling.

"Well, now, yer right, sur; though how ye came to persaive is more nor I can understand."

"Where have you come from? and how in such a plight?" demanded the consul in some surprise, observing that a troop of janissaries came galloping up the winding road, near the top of which they stood.

"Sorrow wan o' me knows where we touched at last," replied the seaman in some perplexity; "the names goes out o' me head like wather out of a sieve. All I'm rightly sure of is that I set sail four days ago from a port they calls Boogee, or so'thin' like it, in company with a man called Seedy Hassan; an' sure he'd ha bin seedy enough be now if his horse hadn't bin a good 'un, for we wos attacked, and half his party killed and took, forby my six messmates; but—"

"Your name is Ted Flaggan?" inquired the consul hastily.

"It is," said the seaman, in great surprise; "sure yer honour must be—"

The sentence was cut short by the arrival of the janissaries, who pulled up with looks of considerable astonishment on finding the mad fugitive engaged in quiet conversation with the British consul.

"Gentlemen," said Colonel Langley, with much urbanity of tone and manner, "I suppose you wish to make a prisoner of this man?"

The soldiers admitted that such was their desire and intention.

"Then you will oblige me," continued the Colonel, "by allowing me to be his jailer in the meantime. He is a British subject, of whom I can give a good account at the fitting time and place. Sidi Hassan, under whose charge he has been by my orders, will doubtless soon arrive in town, and further enlighten you on this subject."

Without waiting for a reply the Colonel bowed, and wheeling his horse round rode quietly away, followed by the Irishman, who regarded his new jailer with a very puzzled look, while a touch of humour further tended to wrinkle his remarkably expressive countenance.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

TED FLAGGAN AND RAIS ALI PROCEED ON A MISSION, AND SEE IMPRESSIVE SIGHTS.

Two days after the events narrated in the last chapter, Mrs Langley, being seated on her favourite couch in the court under the small banana-tree, sent Zubby into the garden to command the attendance of Ted Flaggan. That worthy was gifted with a rare capacity for taking the initiative in all things, when permitted to do so, and had instituted himself in the consul's mansion as assistant gardener, assistant cook and hostler, assistant footman and nurseryman, as well as general advice-giver and factotum, much to the amusement of all concerned, for he knew little of anything, but was extremely good-humoured, helpful, and apart from advice-giving—modest.

"Flaggan," said Mrs Langley, when the stout seaman appeared, hat in hand, "I want you to accompany our interpreter, Rais Ali, into town, to bring out a message from a gentleman named Sidi Omar. Ali himself has other duties to attend to, and cannot return till evening, so take particular note of the way, lest you should miss it in returning."

"I will, ma'am," replied Ted, with a forecastle bow, "Does Mister Ally onderstand English?"

"Oh yes," returned Mrs Langley, with a laugh. "I forgot that he was absent when you arrived. You will find that he understands all you say to him, though I'm not quite sure that you will understand all he says to you. Like some of the other Moors here, he has been in the British navy, and has acquired a knowledge of English. You'll find him a pleasant companion, I doubt not. Be so good as to tell him that I wish to see him before he leaves."

Obedient to the summons, Rais Ali quickly appeared. The interpreter was a stout, tall, dignified man of about thirty-five, with a great deal of self-assertion, and a dash of humour expressed in his countenance.

"Ali," said Mrs Langley, "you are aware that Sidi Omar is to be married to-morrow. I have been invited to the wedding, but have stupidly forgotten the hour at which I was asked to see the bride dressed. Will you go to Sidi Omar, or some of his people, and find this out? Take the sailor, Mr Flaggan, with you, and send him back with the information as soon as possible."

"Yis, mum," replied the interpreter; "an' please, mum, I was want too, tree days' leave of absins."

"No doubt Colonel Langley will readily grant your request. Have you some particular business to transact, or do you merely desire a holiday?"

"Bof," replied the Moor, with a mysterious smile. "I'se got finished the partikler bizziness of bein' spliced yesterdays, an' I wants littil holiday."

"Indeed," said Mrs Langley in surprise, "you have been very quiet about it."

"Ho yis, wery quiet."

"Where is your bride, Ali? I should like so much to see her."

"Her's at 'ome, safe," said Rais Ali, touching a formidable key which was stuck in his silken girdle.

"What! have you locked her up?"

"Yis—'bleeged to do so for keep her safe."

"Not alone, I hope?" said Mrs Langley.

"No, not 'lone. Her's got a bootiflul cat, an' I means buy her a little nigger boy soon."

Having arranged that Mrs Langley was to visit his bride on her way to Sidi Omar's wedding the following day, Rais Ali set out on his mission, accompanied by Mr Flaggan.

The Irishman soon discovered that the Moor was a conceited coxcomb and a barefaced boaster, and ere long began to suspect that he was an arrant coward. He was, however, good-humoured and chatty, and Ted, being in these respects like-minded, rather took a fancy to him, and slily encouraged his weakness.

"Ye must have seed a power o' sarvice in the navy, now," he said, with an air of interest; "how came you to git into it?"

"Ha! that wos cos o' me bein' sitch a strong, good-lookin' feller," replied Ali, with an air of self-satisfaction.

"Just so," said Flaggan; "but it's not common to hear of Moors bein' taken aboard our men o' war, d'ee see. It's that as puzzles me."

"Oh, that's easy to 'splain," returned Ali. "The fac' is, I'd bin for sev'l year aboord a Maltese trader 'tween Meddrainean an' Liverp'l, and got so like a English tar you coodn't tell the one fro' the oder. Spok English, too, like natif."

"Ha!" exclaimed Ted, nodding his head gravely—"well?"

"Well, one night w'en we was all sleeperin' in port, in a 'ouse on shore, the press-gang comes round an' nabs the whole of us. We fight like lions. I knock seven men down, one before the tother, 'cause of bein' very strong, an' had learn to spar a littil. You know how to spar?"

"Well," returned Ted, looking with a smile at his huge hands, "I can't go for to say as I know much about the science of it, d'ee see; but I can use my fists after a fashion."

"Good," continued the Moor. "Well, then, we fights till all our eyes is black, an' all our noses is red, an' some of our teeths is out, but the sailirs wos too many for us. We wos 'bleeged to gif in, for wot kin courage do agin numbers? so we wos took aboord a friggit and 'zamined."

"An' what?" asked the seaman.

"'Zamined. Overhauled," replied the Moor.

"Oh! examined, I see. Well?"

"Well, I feels sure of git hoff, bein' a Algerine Moor, so w'en my turn comes, I says to the hofficer wot 'zamined us, says I, 'I's not a Breetish man!'

"'Wot are you, then?' says the hofficer.

"'I's a Moor,' says I.

"'Moor's the pity,' says he."

Ted gave a short laugh at this.

"Now, that's strange," observed Ali, glancing at his companion in some surprise; "that's 'zactly wot they all did, w'en the hofficer says that! I've thought oftin 'bout it since, but never could see wot they laugh at."

"Oh, it's just a way we've got," returned Flaggan, resuming his gravity; "the English have a knack o' larfin', off and on, w'en they shouldn't ought to.—Git along with your yarn."

"Well, that wos the finish. I became a Breetish tar, an' fouted in all the battils of the navy. I 'spected to get promotion an' prize-money, but nivir git none, 'cause of circumstances as wos never 'splained to me. Well, one night we come in our friggit to anchor in bay of Algiers. I gits leave go ashore wi' tothers, runs right away to our Dey, who gits awrful waxy, sends for Breetish cap'n, 'splain that I's the son of a Turk by a Algerine moder an' wery nigh or'er the cap'n's head to be cutted off."

"You don't say so?"

"Yis, it's troo. Wery near declare war with England acause of that," said Ali, with an air of importance. "But the Breetish consul he interfere, goes down on hims knees, an' beg the Dey for to parding hims nation."

"He must ha' bin a cowardly feller, that consul!"

"No," said the interpreter sternly, "him's not coward. Him was my master, Kurnil Langley, an' only do the right ting: humbil hisself to our Dey w'en hims contry do wrong.—Now, here we is comin' to Bab-el-Oued, that means the Water-gate in yoor lingo, w'ere the peepils hold palaver."

This in truth appeared to be the case, for many of the chief men of the city were seated under and near the gate, as the two drew near, smoking their pipes and gossiping in the orthodox Eastern style.

The big Irishman attracted a good deal of notice as he passed through the gates; but Turks are grave and polite by nature: no one interrupted him or made audible comments upon his somewhat wild and unusual appearance.

Passing onwards, they entered the town and traversed the main street towards the Bab-Azoun gate, which Ali explained to his companion was the Gate of Tears, and the place of public execution.

Here they came suddenly on the body of a man, the feet and limbs of which were dreadfully mangled, showing that the miserable wretch had perished under the bastinado.

At the time we write of, and indeed at all times during Turkish rule, human life was held very cheap. For the slightest offences, or sometimes at the mere caprice of those in power, men were taken up and bastinadoed in the open streets until they died from sheer agony, and their relations did not dare to remove the bodies for burial until their tyrants had left the scene. Cruelty became almost the second nature of the people. Theft was checked by the amputation of the first joint of the fore-finger of the right hand for the first offence. For the second, the whole hand was sacrificed, and for the third, the head itself was forfeited. Sometimes, in cases of capital punishment, decapitation was performed by degrees! and other refinements too horrible to mention were constantly practised.

While the interpreter was explaining to his companion as much of this as he deemed it right for him to know, several of the sorrowing relations of the dead man came forward and carried the body away. Little notice was taken of the incident, which, from beginning to end, scarcely interrupted the general flow of business.

At the Bab-Azoun gate, which occupied a position not many yards distant from the spot on which now stands the principal theatre of Algiers, Ali left Ted Flaggan for a few minutes, begging him to wait until he had transacted a piece of business in the market held just outside the gate.

"Tell me before ye go, Ally, what may be the use of them three big hooks close to the gate," said Flaggan, pointing upwards.

"Them's for throwin' down teeves an' murderers on to.—You stay here; me not be wery long come back."

Rais Ali hurried away, leaving the sailor to observe and moralise on all that passed around him. And there was a good deal to induce thought in one who had been accustomed to comparatively humane laws and merciful dispensations in his native land, for, besides the scene which he had just witnessed, and the huge hooks whose uses had just been explained to him, he now noticed that several conspicuous places near him were garnished with the heads of malefactors who had been recently executed. He observed, also, that the innumerable donkeys which were being constantly driven past him, overladen with market produce, were covered with open sores, and that these sores appeared to be selected for special flagellation when the brutal drivers wished to urge the wretched creatures on.

He stood thus for some time watching with interest the throng of Turks, Jews, Moors, negroes, and others that continually streamed to and fro, some on foot, some on horseback, and others, especially the men with marketable commodities, on mules and donkeys. It was not difficult for him to distinguish between the races, for Rais Ali had already told him that none but Turks were permitted to wear the turban, not even the sons of Turks by Algerine mothers, and that the Jews were by law commanded to dress in sombre black.

Suddenly he observed a body of men advancing towards the gate, carrying something in their arms, and followed by an orderly crowd at a respectful distance. With the curiosity of an idler he approached, and found that they bore a man, who was firmly bound hand and foot. The man was a Moor, and the anxious look of his pale face showed that he was about to suffer punishment of some kind.

The seaman mingled with the crowd and looked on.

Laying the man on the ground with his face downwards, the officers of justice sent away two of their number, who speedily returned with a blacksmith's anvil and forehammer. On this they placed one of their victim's ankles, and Flaggan now saw, with a sickening heart, that they were about to break it with the ponderous hammer. One blow sufficed to crush the bones in pieces, and drew from the man an appalling shriek of agony. Pushing his leg farther on the anvil, the executioner broke it again at the shin, while the other officials held the yelling victim down. A third blow was then delivered on the knee, but the shriek that followed was suddenly cut short in consequence of the man having fainted. Still the callous executioner went on with his horrible task, and, breaking the leg once more at the thigh, proceeded to go through the same process with the other leg, and also with the arms. When twelve blows had thus been delivered, the writhing of the wretched victim proved that he was still alive, though his labouring chest was now incapable of giving vent to his agony in shrieks.

We would not describe such a scene as this were it not certainly true; and we relate it, reader, not for the purpose of harrowing your feelings, but for the sake of showing what diabolical deeds we men are capable of, unless guarded therefrom by the loving and tender spirit of Jesus Christ. We say "spirit" advisedly, for we are well aware that false professors of that blessed name have, many a time, committed deeds even more horrible than that which we have just described.

Unable to bear the sight longer, the sailor turned and hurried away from the spot.

Fortunately he met Rais Ali just outside the crowd.

"Come, lad, come," he cried, seizing that boastful man by the arm, in such a grasp that Rais turned pale with alarm. "I can't stop here. Let's git away. Sure it's divls they must be, an' not men!"

Blindly dragging the interpreter along by main force through several streets, Flaggan stopped suddenly at last to recover breath and to wipe the perspiration from his brow.

"Don't ask me wot I've seen," he said, to Ali's inquiries, "I can't a-bear to think on it. God help me! I wish I could wipe it out of me brain intirely. Come along, let's finish our business, an' git out o' this cursed place."

Proceeding rapidly and in silence towards the street at the base of the triangular town, which followed the line of ramparts that faced the sea, they discovered the great man of whom they were in search, Sidi Omar, walking up and down with the cadi, or chief judge, to whose daughter he was to be united on the following day.

"It won't do to 'trupt 'em jus' yit. Hold on a littil," said Rais Ali to his companion.

Ted Flaggan had no objection to "hold on," for the sight of the ocean with its fresh breezes cooled his brow, and tended to turn his mind away from the horrible thoughts that filled it.

While they are waiting, let you and me, reader, listen to the conclusion of the converse held between the bridegroom and father-in-law.

The cadi was a stern old Turk, with a long grey beard. The son-in-law elect was, as we have elsewhere said, an ill-favoured elderly man with only one eye. He did not look quite so happy as one would have expected in a bridegroom so near his wedding-day, but that was to be accounted for, to some extent, by the fact that he already possessed four wives, and was naturally somewhat used to weddings.

"No, no," said he, in a cautious tone, to the judge; "it won't do to be hasty about it, Achmet is too popular at present."

"What has that to do with the question?" asked the cadi, in a tone of contempt. "If our party be strong enough we have only to strike; and I tell you that I believe it to be quite strong enough."

"I know it," returned Omar impatiently, "but I also know that my enemy, Sidi Hassan, is more than usually on the alert just now; I think it well to delay for a time. Besides," he added, smiling, "you surely would not have me begin a revolution on the very eve of my marriage!"

"I would have you lose as little time as possible," replied the cadi. "But see, if I mistake not, these two men are eyeing us rather narrowly."

Seeing that they were observed, Rais Ali advanced, and, with a low salaam, delivered his message to Sidi Omar, who gave him the necessary reply, and dismissed him.

Resuming their conference, the two magnates turned to saunter along the street, when Omar observed a dark object like a dog, coiled up in an angle of the parapet. Poking it with his cane, he caused it to uncoil and display the vacant, features of a half-witted negro boy. The poor creature fell on his knees in alarm on seeing the well-known face of Sidi Omar, but sprang to his feet with alacrity, and ran off at full speed on being sternly told to "be gone."

Meanwhile Rais Ali led his friend safely through the Bab-el-Oued gate, and, turning his face in the right direction said—

"Now, you git 'ome, fast. Keep 'er steady—a point morer to the westward—so, yoo can't go wrong."

Instead of obeying orders, Ted Flaggan turned, and, with an amused smile, watched the retreating figure of the interpreter. Then, after sauntering on some distance in a reverie, he stopped and gazed long and earnestly at the pirate city, whose white-washed domes and minarets gleamed in the sunshine like marble, contrasting beautifully with the bright green of the Sahel hills behind, and the intense blue of the sky and sea.

"A whited sepulchre!" muttered the seaman, with a frown, as he turned away and pushed forward at a rapid pace towards the residence of the British consul.



CHAPTER NINE.

DESCRIBES A MOORISH BRIDE, A WEDDING, AND A METAMORPHOSIS, BESIDES INDICATING A PLOT.

On the following morning Mrs Langley set out on horseback for the palace of the cadi, to attend the wedding of his daughter with Sidi Omar, and, true to her promise, turned aside on the way to pay a visit to the imprisoned bride of Rais Ali.

She was accompanied, of course, by the remarkable bridegroom himself, and also by her husband's janissary, Sidi Hassan, as well as by her daughter Agnes, who rode a spirited Arab pony.

Immediately on entering the gate of the city, Rais and the ladies dismounted, and leaving their horses in charge of a groom, ascended on foot one of the narrow streets of the town. So steep was this street that it consisted of a flight of broad steps, which led ultimately to the casba, or citadel, at the upper part of the town. But before they had ascended it very far, the interpreter diverged into a cross street, which was much narrower. It terminated in a cul-de-sac, at the bottom of which stood the door of Rais Ali's town residence.

And a remarkable door it was, made of thick oaken planks, studded with enormous nails, the heads of which were as large as a half-crown. Just above it there was a square hole grated with thick iron bars, which served to enlighten the gloomy passage within.

Applying the key before mentioned to this door, Rais threw it open and bade the visitors enter.

Having carefully shut and re-locked the door, the interpreter led them through a narrow passage, which terminated in the usual square court of Moorish houses. This was very small, and, like all such courts, had no roof, so that a pleasant gleam of sunshine flickered through the creepers which twined up its pillars and gleamed on the drops that fell from a tinkling fountain in the centre.

Entering an open doorway on the right of the court, the interpreter led the way up a flight of marble steps to the second storey of the house. A small gallery, such as one sees in public libraries in England, ran round the four sides of the building over the balustrade, of which one could look down on the leafy court with its ever singing jet d'eau. The windows of the several private, apartments opened upon this gallery.

In the centre of one side of the square was a large open doorway, in the form of a Moorish arch, by which entrance was obtained into a little extremely ornate apartment. The dome-shaped roof of this boudoir was lighted by four little holes filled with stained-glass, and the walls were covered with beautifully painted tiles. Rich ornaments of various Eastern and fanciful kinds were strewn about, and valuable Persian rugs covered the marble floor.

On an ottoman, in the centre of all, sat Rais Ali's bride, cross-legged, and on a cushion before her lay the cat, her only companion.

She was clothed in garments of the richest description, which glittered with gold embroidery and jewels. Seated thus, stroking the cat, and with a self-satisfied smile on her fat pretty face, she seemed the very personification of contentment. Her soft brown neck was almost hidden with rows of pearls, and long rows of the same jewels depended from the high filigree cap which towered above her head. Her dress consisted of three open jackets or short caftans, one above the other, without sleeves. These were profusely garnished with gold lace, and fastened only at the waist. White linen trousers or drawers covered her limbs to the ankles, but these were so immensely wide as to bear more resemblance to female drapery than to the masculine appendages which their name suggests. A silken, gold-striped shawl was fastened by two corners round her waist, and hung down in front like an apron. Sleeves of fine embroidered muslin and of great width covered her arms. Her little feet and ankles were bare, but the latter were ornamented with several thick gold leglets. In each ear she wore five large round ear-rings, two of these fitting into two holes in the lower, and three into the upper part of the ear. One awkward result of this was that the upper ear-rings pulled the ears down, and made them pendent like those of a poodle!

The visitors having been introduced, Madam Rais Ali received them with a good-humoured stare, but said nothing. Mrs Langley then tried to engage her in conversation, but Mrs Ali continued to stare and smile without speaking, for the good reason that she understood neither French nor English. Requesting Ali to interpret, Mrs Langley then put one or two questions. The bride turned her large dark eyes on her husband while he was speaking, and then, instead of replying, turned them on her visitors and laughed. Whereupon little Agnes, unable to control herself, also laughed; this unhinged Mrs Langley, who laughed likewise, and Rais Ali followed suit from sympathy.

After this satisfactory ebullition, Mrs Langley again essayed to induce conversation, but beyond yes, no, and a laugh, she could draw forth nothing whatever from the bride, whose mind, in regard to all things terrestrial, with the exception of household affairs, was a perfect blank. Mohammedan females are treated by their lords like babies. They receive no education worthy of the name, and are therefore apt to be childish in their ideas.

After one or two fruitless attempts, the visitors took leave of the happy bride, who was thereupon locked up again by her jealous husband, and left to her own resources and the cat.

Returning to the place where their steeds had been left, the party re-mounted, and proceeded to the palace of the cadi.

This palace, being situated in one of the narrow lanes of the town, had a very undignified and dull exterior. Indeed, no one could have imagined it to be a palace, but for the spiral columns of marble and other rich and costly carving around the entrance. Inside, however, the aspect of things was more in keeping with the dignity of the owner.

The lady and her daughter were ushered into a little square hall, in which several guards were seated, cross-legged, on small stone seats or niches round the walls, smoking long pipes. Beyond this was the principal entrance-hall or antechamber of the palace. It was gorgeous in marble pillars, stucco designs, horse-shoe arches, and other Mooresque decorations. Here a large party of officials and friends were moving about. Beyond this, they came to the square court, which is the same in general arrangements, in all Moorish houses, though, of course, not in size or luxury of detail.

Here the cadi himself met his guests, and conducted them to the suite of chambers on the second storey, which were devoted to the ladies. At the principal entrance to these they were received by the cadi's wife, and, with much display of friendliness and affection, were conducted into the harem—that mysterious retreat which, in a Mohammedan household, is never entered by mortal man, except the lord thereof.

It was Mrs Langley's first visit to such a scene, and, although she had been prepared for something magnificent, the gorgeous nature of everything far surpassed her expectations. The rooms, indeed, were small, being, like those of all Moorish dwellings, rather long and narrow, with recesses or antechambers. Some of these latter had dome-shaped roofs, with little coloured glass skylights, such as we have already described, and were delightfully snug retreats. The walls and ceilings of all the apartments were profusely ornamented, and the hangings and furniture were of the richest material.

On a silken couch, at the farther end of one of these small apartments, sat the bride, Zara, youngest daughter of the cadi, and a lovely girl of nineteen. Poor Zara! Her history—not by any means an uncommon one in that land—goes to prove that Mohammedan women, far more than English, have need of a "Women's Rights Society."

Zara was already a widow with two beautiful children! Her first husband, to whom she had been married without her inclination being consulted, had been strangled.

It was afterwards proved that he was innocent of the crime for which he had suffered, but that gave very little pain to the consciences of those who had strangled him, partly because their consciences were callous, and partly because they regarded the event as one of the decrees of "Fate."

After his death it became necessary that another husband should be found for Zara. She, poor creature, would have been thankful to have remained in a state of widowed felicity; but this was not deemed proper by her wealthy relatives. Of course it was not difficult to find a suitor where a pretty girl was the hook, and a large dower the bait. Sidi Omar came forward, and all the relatives said that it was an excellent match—all save one, Zara's eldest sister, Hanyfa.

Hanyfa was—to speak plainly—a bad girl. She was one of the wives of a great officer of state—in other words, a particularly noted pirate— named Sidi Hamet. Now, Hamet was the Aga or commander-in-chief of the cavalry. He was an ambitious man, and a rival of Sidi Omar in this respect. Of course he hated Omar, and so did his wife Hanyfa, hence her objection to him as her sister's husband. But neither she nor Hamet could stay the marriage; they therefore made up their minds to endure it.

One thing that struck and surprised Mrs Langley was the extreme fairness of many of the Moorish ladies; some of whom were quite as fair as Europeans, and very beautiful, with much finer eyes than those of the more northern belles.

Having laid aside the shroud-like veils which Moorish ladies wear when exposed to the slightest chance of meeting the gaze of man, they now stood confessed in all the magnificence of Oriental taste. It is impossible to describe the dazzling splendour of the jewels with which their costumes absolutely blazed; especially those in the little golden caps, or salmas, which some of them wore. There were bouquets of roses, jessamine, peacock's-feathers, and butterflies, formed of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other precious gems. We do not draw on our imagination here, good reader. It is probable that if a comparison had been instituted, these pirates could have far outshone any court of Europe in the matter of jewellery.

Of course no gentlemen were present. It is one of the drawbacks of Mohammedan female life that the ladies can never enjoy the satisfaction of displaying themselves to male admirers, with the exception of husbands, fathers, and brothers. How far the display of themselves to each other is attended with pleasure remains a doubtful point— especially when we consider that jealousy has not yet been quite eradicated from the female human breast.

However, on the occasion of which we write, most of the assembled ladies appeared to be highly delighted with each other. They were all very merry too, and, being little better than children as regards intellectual training, they were particularly childlike in their merriment.

As the wife of the British consul was a lady of some importance just then, (the consul being high in favour with the Dey), she was received with becoming ceremony, and conducted to a seat next the bride. This seat, like the seats of Orientals in general, was simply a cushion laid on the marble floor. Seating herself with some difficulty in the Moorish fashion, she proceeded to pay some compliments to the bride in English and French, but as Zara knew neither of these languages, she shook her head, smiled, and returned some compliments in Turkish; whereupon Mrs Langley shook her head and smiled. The rest of the company, from infection probably, nodded to each other also, and smiled. Two or three pretty young and rather stout girls turned aside, and went the length of giggling.

Fortunately at this point an interpreter was brought forward in the person of an Italian slave, a good-looking middle-aged lady, who understood French, and who, during a servitude of ten years, had also acquired Turkish.

Compliments were now bandied to and fro with great volubility, without any introductory references to weather, and much notice was taken of little Agnes, whose appearance was the cause of some good-natured criticism among the Algerine belles. As the costume of these latter,— with much variety in colour and detail,—bore strong general resemblance to that of the bride of Rais Ali, it is not necessary to describe it more minutely.

Coffee and sweetmeats were now served, the former in exquisitely delicate porcelain cups, so small that they might have been easily mistaken for part of a doll's establishment. They had neither handles nor saucers, and were prevented from burning the fingers by being inserted into what we may style egg-cups of beautiful gold and silver filigree. The coffee was too thick to suit the European palate, being ground in a fashion peculiar to the Moors. It was also too sweet.

There was present a younger sister of the bride, who had not only a tendency, but had already attained in an unusual degree, to the possession of embonpoint and was appropriately named Fatma. She wore the salma, a dazzling little golden cap, in token of being still unmarried. She seemed much captivated with little Agnes. No wonder, for, in the simplicity of a pure white dress, and with her fair curls streaming down her cheeks, unadorned save by one little blush rose, she looked like an ethereal spirit dropped into the midst of the garish party.

Fatma got up suddenly and whispered to her mother.

"My little girl," said the Moorish lady, through the interpreter, "thinks your daughter would look so pretty in our costume."

"I have no doubt she would," replied Mrs Langley, glancing with some pride at Agnes.

"She asks if you will allow her to be dressed just now in the Moorish fashion."

"If there is sufficient time," said Mrs Langley, with an amused smile.

"Oh, plenty of time," cried Fatma, who immediately seized the not unwilling Agnes by the hand, and ran off with her.

Opposite to Zara sat her sister Hanyfa, who looked pretty and innocent enough just then, though Mrs Langley was struck by her look of superior intelligence, and a certain sharpness of glance which might almost have been styled suspicious.

The consul's lady was about to address her, but was interrupted by the entrance of several dancing-women, who immediately claimed the undivided attention of the company.

One of these carried a sort of guitar, another an earthenware drum covered at one end with parchment, and a third a large tambourine, while a fourth prepared to dance.

Of the dancing we need say little. It was unworthy of the name. There was little motion of the feet, and a good deal of waving of a kerchief held in each hand. The music was still less worthy of note; its chief feature being noise. Nevertheless, the Moorish ladies, knowing no better, enjoyed it extremely, and Mrs Langley enjoyed it sympathetically. These women were professionals, the ladies themselves taking no part in the dancing.

After this the bride ascended by steps to one of the shelves or stone recesses, which formed convenient sofas or couches round the walls of the apartment, and there, seated on cushions, submitted to be arrayed in bridal apparel. None but a lady's pen could do full justice to her stupendous toilet. We shall therefore do no more than state that the ludicrously high head-dress, in particular, was a thing of unimaginable splendour, and that her ornaments generally were so heavy as to render her incapable of walking without support.

While this was going on in the chamber of state, a very different, but not less remarkable, transformation was being wrought in Fatma's own private apartment, where she and several of her Algerine companions, assisted by a coal-black slave-girl, named Zooloo, converted innocent little Agnes into a Moor.

Of course conversation with the heroine of the hour was impossible, but this mattered, little to Agnes, for she could converse quite powerfully with her eyes, and her young friends chattered more than enough among themselves.

Standing over her with a formidable pair of scissors, and grasping her front hair with her left hand, the coal-black Zooloo said—

"Stand still, you white thing, till I perform my duty."

Of course she said it only by her looks; and Agnes quite understood her.

Next moment a whole cluster of golden ringlets fell to the ground. For one moment Agnes's eyes and mouth resembled three round O's. She felt that something telling had been done, and thoughts of her mother flashed into her mind, but Fatma's pretty little round face, with no eyes to speak of owing to laughter, caused her to smile and then to laugh heartily.

Having brushed the front hair over her forehead, and cut it straight across, the energetic Zooloo next painted her eyebrows black with a substance called kohl, causing them to meet over her nose in the most approved form of Algerine elegance. Then she dyed her nails and the palms of her hands dark-red with another substance named henna. The first of these takes about a week to remove, and the last can be got rid of only by the growth of the nail. Agnes was not aware of this, else she might have objected. They finished up the adornment of the face by sticking it all over with gold spangles.

"Now you look lovely," said Zooloo—with her eyes—stepping back and surveying her as a painter might his chef-d'oeuvre.

"Do I? How nice!" replied Agnes.

Then the whole party broke into a chorus of laughter, and running to a wardrobe tumbled out a mass of richly embroidered garments—in silk, satin, muslin, damask, fine linen, and gold, that would have stocked at least half a dozen European families with charading material for life.

From this heap were selected and put on a lovely pair of fair linen drawers, of that baggy kind peculiar to Algerine ladies; also an exquisite little caftan, or sleeveless jacket, of scarlet cloth, so covered with gold lace that scarcely any of the scarlet was visible; likewise a perfect gem of a cap of gold, not bigger than Agnes's own hand, which Fatma put on in a coquettish style, very much to one side of the head; saying, (with her eyes), as she did so, and laughing heartily the while—

"You're not married yet, of course?"

To which Agnes replied, also with her eyes, innocently—

"No, not yet, but I hope to be soon." Whereupon the whole party laughed immoderately and said, each one with her eyes—

"There can't be the smallest doubt whatever upon that point!"

At this point they were interrupted by the entrance of Hanyfa, but that lady, far from damping their ardour, took particular pleasure in assisting. By her advice they cut off a good deal more of the flaxen hair, and deepened the dye on the eyebrows, nails, and palms. Gradually, however, Hanyfa drew the negress Zooloo from the scene of action, and entered into a very earnest conversation in whispers, quite unheeded by the riotous youngsters. There seemed to be a pretty good understanding between these unusually intelligent females, if one might judge from the nods and winks and knowing smiles which passed between them; but their confabulation was cut short by the completion of the toilet.

Many other things of rare value and beauty, which we cannot afford space to mention, were put upon Agnes, and then she was led by the hand into the presence of her mamma!

To say that Mrs Langley was dumbfounded is but a feeble way of expressing the state of her mind. Although a lady of great moral courage, and accustomed from infancy to self-control, she felt, on first beholding her timid little daughter, strongly disposed to seize Fatma by the hair of the head, and use her as a bludgeon wherewith to fell her Algerine mother; but, remembering the dignity of her position as, in some sort, a reflected representative of the British Empire in these parts, and also recalling to mind the aptitude of Algerine gentlemen to tie up in sacks and drown obstreperous Algerine ladies, she restrained herself, bit her lips, and said nothing.

Fortunately at that moment it became necessary to conduct the bride to her future lord's apartment, which, for the time, was in another part of the same mansion.

To the cry of "Lai! lai! lella!" which was meant to express great joy, and was always raised at Moorish weddings, the guests conducted poor Zara to her "fate."

That evening Hanyfa sat at the feet of her lord, Sidi Hamet, and watched the curls of smoke which, arising from the bowl of his magnificent hookah, rolled like cannon-wreaths from beneath his frowning and no less magnificent moustache.

"Zooloo is a smart girl," said Hamet, referring to something that had just been said.

"She is," assented Hanyfa.

"You are sure she cannot have misunderstood?" asked Hamet.

"Quite sure. Dressed as a boy, she lay close to their feet at the time in an angle of the wall near the Djama Djedid, and overheard every word distinctly."

"Good," said the Aga of cavalry, venting a sigh of relief, which propelled a miniature gunshot half-way across the room; "that enables me to decide the course which I shall pursue, and gives us a little breathing-time before entering on the final act of the play."



CHAPTER TEN.

SHOWS WHAT LESSONS WERE TAUGHT IN THE BAGNIO, AND DESCRIBES A BRAVE DASH FOR FREEDOM.

Bacri, the chief of the Jews, proved as good as his word.

By means of a golden lever he moved some one, who moved some one else, who moved the Dey to make certain inquiries about the slaves in the Bagnio, which resulted in his making the discovery that Lucien Rimini was a first-rate linguist and an excellent scribe.

Immediately he was commanded to fill the office of scrivano to the Dey— that post being vacant in consequence of the previous secretary having given his master some offence, for which he had had his head cut off.

But Lucien's elevation did not necessarily improve the condition of his father and brother. The Dey cared only for those slaves who made themselves useful to him; their relations he utterly ignored, unless they succeeded in gaining his regard. The Sicilians had too much common-sense to expect any great immediate advantage from the change, nevertheless, the slight hope which had been aroused by this event enabled the two who were left in the Bagnio to endure their lot with greater fortitude and resignation. As for Lucien, he resolved to win the Dey's esteem in order to be able to influence him in favour of his father and brother.

"We must learn to submit, my son," said Francisco, one evening, while he and Mariano were finishing the last crumbs of the black bread which constituted their morning and evening meals.

"I admit it, father," said Mariano, with a long-drawn sigh. "Bacri was right; but it's not easy to bear. For myself, I think I could stand their insults and their lash better if they would only spare you, but when I see the villains strike you as they did to-day—oh, father!"— Mariano flushed and clenched his hands—"it makes me so wild that I feel as though the blood would burst my veins. You cannot wonder that I find it impossible to submit."

"God bless you, boy," said Francisco, laying his hand on the youth's shoulder; "I understand your feelings—nevertheless it were well that you learned to restrain them, for rebellion only works evil. You saw what was the consequence of your attacking the man who struck me to-day—you got knocked down and bastinadoed, and I—"

Francisco paused.

"Yes, go on, father, I know what you mean."

"Well, I would not hurt your feelings by mentioning it—as you say, you know what I mean."

"You mean," said Mariano, "that in consequence of my violence they gave you an additional flogging. True, father, true; and that is the one thing that will now enable me to suffer in silence."

At this point in the conversation they were interrupted by a deep groan from a young man in the cell opposite, which was prolonged into an appalling cry.

Most of the slaves in the foul den had finished their meagre meal and lain down on the hard floors to seek, in heavy slumber, the repose which was essential to fit them for the toils of the coming day.

Some of them awoke and raised themselves on their elbows, but sank back again on seeing that nothing particular had occurred. A few who had been rendered callous by their sufferings did not take the trouble to move, but Francisco and Mariano rose and hastened to the man, supposing him to have fallen into a fit. Mariano moved with difficulty owing to the chains, upwards of sixty pounds weight, which he wore as a punishment for his recent violence.

"Go—go back to your rest," said the man, who lay with clenched teeth and hands, as Francisco kneeled beside him, "there is nothing the matter with me."

"Nay, friend, you are mistaken," said Francisco, taking his hand kindly; "your look, and that perspiration on your brow, tell me that something is the matter with you. Let me call our jailer, and—"

"Call our jailer!" exclaimed the young man, with a fierce laugh; "d'you think that he'd take any notice of a sick slave? No, when we get sick we are driven out to work till we get well. If we don't get well, we are left to die."

"Surely, surely not!" said Francisco.

"Surely not!" repeated the young man. "Look; look there!"

He pointed as he spoke to the old man who lay on his back at full length in the recess next to his own.

"See. He is a free man now! I knew he was to be released to-night. I have seen many and many a one set free thus since I came here."

Francisco was horrified, on going to the place where the old man lay, to find that he was dead. He had observed him tottering and looking very feeble at his work in the stone-quarries that day, but in his own misery had forgotten him since returning to the Bagnio.

"Too true!" he said, returning to the young man; "his troubles are indeed ended; but tell me what is it that ails thyself."

"'Tis memory," said the young man, raising himself on his elbow, and gazing sadly into Francisco's face. "Your conversation to-night for a moment aroused memories which I have long sought to stifle.—Lad," he said, laying a hand impressively on Mariano's arm, "take the advice that Bacri gave you. I was once as you are. I came here—years ago—with a father like thine; but he was an older and a feebler man. Like you, I fought against our fate with the ferocity of a wild beast, and they tortured me until my life hung by a thread, for I could not endure to see the old man beaten. As you said just now, 'you cannot wonder that I found it impossible to submit,' but they taught me to submit. Oh! they are clever devils in their cruelty. They saw that I cared not for my life, but they also saw that I suffered through my father, and at last when I became rebellious they beat him. That tamed me, and taught me submission. The old one who lies there was a friend and comrade in sorrow of the dear father who was set free a year ago. I lay thinking of them both to-night, and when I saw you two taking the first steps on the weary path which I have trod so long—and have now, methinks, well-nigh finished—I could not restrain myself. But go—get all the rest you can. We cannot afford to waste the hours in talk. Only be sure, lad, that you take the Jew's advice—submit."

Without replying, the father and son crept back to their hard couch. Had they been in more comfortable circumstances their thoughts might have caused them to toss in feverish restlessness, but sheer muscular exhaustion, acting on healthy frames, caused them to fall at once into a deep slumber, from which they were rudely aroused next morning at four o'clock to proceed to the Marina, where they were to be engaged that day on certain repairs connected with the bulwarks of the harbour.

On the way down they were joined by an old man in a semi-clerical costume, whose gentle demeanour appeared to modify even the cruel nature of their savage guards, for they ceased to crack their whips at his approach, and treated him with marked respect.

Some of the slaves appeared to brighten into new creatures on beholding him, and spoke to him in earnest tones, addressing him as Padre Giovanni.

The padre had a consoling word for all, and appeared to be well acquainted with the various languages in which they spoke.

Approaching Francisco and his son he walked beside them.

"Thou hast arrived but recently, methinks?" he said in a tone of commiseration, "and hast suffered much already."

"Ay, we have suffered somewhat," replied Francisco in an off-hand tone, not feeling much inclined to be communicative just then.

In a few minutes, however, Giovanni had ingratiated himself with the Sicilians to such an extent that they had related all their sad history to him, and already began to feel as if he were an old friend, before they had traversed the half-mile that lay between their nightly prison and the harbour.

Arrived at their place of toil—the artificial neck connecting the little light-house island with the mainland,—Mariano was ordered to convey large masses of stone for the supply of a gang of slaves who were building a new face to the breakwater, while his father was harnessed, with another gang, to the cart that conveyed the stones to their destination along a temporary tramway.

The severity of the labour consisted chiefly in the intense heat under which it was performed, and in the unremitting nature of it. It must not be imagined, however, that there was not a single touch of humanity in the breasts of the cruel slave-drivers. Hard task-masters though they undoubtedly were, some of them were wont to turn aside and look another way when any of the poor slaves sat down for a few minutes, overcome with exhaustion.

There was little opportunity allowed, however, for intercourse among the unfortunates. One or two who, judging from their faces, showed sympathetic leanings towards each other, were immediately observed and separated. This had the effect of hardening some, while it drove others to despair.

One of those whose spirit seemed to vacillate between despair and ferocity was the young man already referred to as being an inhabitant of Francisco's part of the Bagnio. He was a Portuguese, named Castello. In carrying the stones to and fro, he and Mariano had to pass each other regularly every three or four minutes. The latter observed, after a time, that Castello glanced at him with peculiar intelligence. At first he was puzzled, but on next passing him he determined to give him a similar look. He did so. Next time that Castello passed he said, in a low tone, without looking up, and without in the least checking his pace—

"Better to die than this!"

Mariano was taken by surprise, and at first made no reply, for he recalled the man's advice of the previous night, but, on passing the Portuguese again, he said, in the same low tone—

"Yes, much better!"

Curious to know what was meant by this—for the tones and glances of Castello were emphatic—Mariano kept on the alert as he repassed his comrade, expecting more. He was not disappointed, though the nature of the communication tended to increase his surprise.

"Fall and hurt yourself," whispered Castello, and passed on.

Much perplexed, Mariano tried to conceive some reason for such a strange order, but failed. He was, however, one of those rare spirits who have the capacity, in certain circumstances, to sink themselves—not blindly, but intelligently—and place implicit confidence in others. Hastily reviewing the pros and cons while laying his stone on the breakwater, and feeling assured that no great harm could possibly come of compliance, he gave a nod to his comrade in passing.

"I want to speak to you," muttered Castello briefly.

At once the reason flashed on Mariano's mind. The delay consequent on the fall would afford opportunity for a few more sentences than it was possible to utter in passing.

On returning, therefore, with a huge stone on his shoulder, just as he passed his friend he fell with an admirable crash, and lay stunned on the ground.

Castello instantly kneeled by his side and raised his head.

"Ten of us," he said quickly, "intend to make a dash for the Bab-el-Oued gate on the way back to-night: join us. It's neck or nothing."

"I will, if my father agrees," said Mariano, still lying with closed eyes—unconscious!

"If he does, pull your hat on one side of your head as you—" A tremendous lash from a whip cut short the sentence, and caused Castello to spring up. "Rise, you dog!" cried the Turk who had bestowed it; "are Christians so delicate that they need to be nursed for every fall?"

Castello hurried back to his work without a word of reply, and Mariano, opportunely recovering, with a view to avoid a similar cut, staggered on with his stone; but the Turk quickened his movements by a sharp flip on the shoulder, which cut a hole in his shirt, and left a bright mark on his skin.

For one moment the gush of the old fierce spirit almost overcame the poor youth, but sudden reflection and certain tender sensations about the soles of his feet came to his aid, in time to prevent a catastrophe.

When the slaves were collecting together that evening on the breakwater, Mariano managed to get alongside of his father, who at first was very unwilling to run the risk proposed.

"It's not that I'm afraid o' my neck, lad," said the bluff merchant, "but I fear there is no chance for us, and they might visit their wrath on poor Lucien."

"No fear, father; I am convinced that the Dey has already found out his value. Besides, if we escape we shall be able to raise funds to ransom him."

Francisco shook his head.

"And what," said he, "are we to do when we get clear out of the Bab-el-Oued gate, supposing we are so far lucky?"

"Scatter, and make for the head of Frais Vallon," whispered Castello as he passed. "A boat waits at Barbarossa's Tower. Our signal is—"

Here the Portuguese gave a peculiar whistle, which was too low to be heard by the guards, who were busy marshalling the gang.

"You'll agree, father?" urged Mariano, entreatingly.

The merchant replied by a stern "Yes" as the gang was ordered to move on.

Mariano instantly gave his straw hat a tremendous pull to one side, and walked along with a glow of enthusiasm in his countenance. One of the guards, noting this, stepped forward and walked beside him.

"So much the better," thought Mariano; "there will be no time lost when we grapple."

Traversing the passages of the mole, the gang passed into the town, and commenced to thread those narrow streets which, to the present day, spread in a labyrinth between the port and Bab-el-Oued.

As they passed through one of those streets which, being less frequented than most of the others, was unusually quiet, a low hiss was heard.

At the moment Mariano chanced to be passing an open doorway which led, by a flight of stairs, into a dark cellar. Without an instant's hesitation he tripped up his guard and hurled him headlong into the cellar, where, to judge from the sounds, he fell among crockery and tin pans. At the same moment, Francisco hit a guard beside him such a blow on the chest with his fist, as laid him quite helpless on the ground.

The other ten, who had been selected and let into the intended plot by Castello on account of their superior physical powers, succeeded in knocking down the guards in their immediate neighbourhood, and then all of them dashed with headlong speed along the winding street.

There were one or two passengers and a few small shops in the street, but the thing had been done so suddenly and with so little noise, that the passengers and owners of the shops were not aware of what had occurred until they beheld the twelve captives rush past them like a torrent—each seizing, as he passed, a broom-handle, or any piece of timber that might form a handy weapon.

Of course the other guards, and such of the maltreated ones as retained consciousness, shouted loudly, but they did not dare to give chase, lest the other slaves should take it into their heads to follow their comrades. Poor creatures! most of them were incapable of making such an effort, and the few who might have joined had they known of the plot, saw that it was too late, and remained still.

Thus it happened that the fugitives reached the northern gate of the city before the alarm had been conveyed thither.

The sun had just set, and the warders were about to close the gates for the night, when the desperadoes, bursting suddenly round the corner of a neighbouring lane, bounded in perfect silence through the archway.

The sentinel on duty was for a few moments bereft of the power of action. Recovering himself, he discharged his musket, and gave the alarm. The whole guard turned out at once and gave chase, but the few moments lost by them had been well used by the fugitives; besides, Despair, Terror, and Hope are powerful stimulators. After running a short time together up the steep ascent of the Frais Vallon, or Fresh Valley, they scattered, according to arrangement, and each man shifted for himself—with the single exception of Mariano, who would not leave his father.

Seeing this, the Turks also scattered, but in this condition they began to waver—all the more that the short twilight of those regions was rapidly deepening into night. They reflected that the guarding of their gate was a prior duty to the hunting down of runaway slaves, and, one by one, dropped off, each supposing that the others would, no doubt, go on, so that the officer of the guard soon found himself alone with only one of his men.

Having observed that two of the fugitives kept together, these Turks resolved to keep them in view. This was not difficult, for they were both young and active, while Francisco was middle-aged and rather heavy.

"Stay a moment, boy," cried the bluff padrone, as they tolled up the rather steep ascent of the valley.

Mariano stopped.

"Come on, father; they are overhauling us."

"I know it, boy," said Francisco, taking Mariano by the shoulders and kissing his forehead. "Go thou; run! It is all over with me. God bless thee, my son."

"Father," said the youth impressively, grasping a mass of timber which he had wrenched from a shop front in passing, "if you love me, keep moving on, I will stop these two, or—Farewell!"

Without waiting for a reply, the youth rushed impetuously down the hill, and was soon engaged in combat with the two Turks.

"Foolish boy!" muttered Francisco, hastening after him.

Mariano made short work of the soldier, hitting him such a blow on the turban that he fell as if he had been struck by a sledge-hammer. Unfortunately the blow also split up the piece of timber, and broke it short off at his hands. He was therefore at the mercy of the young officer, who, seeing the approach of Francisco, rushed swiftly at his foe, whirling a keen scimitar over his head.

Mariano's great activity enabled him to avoid the first cut, and he was about to make a desperate attempt to close, when a large stone whizzed past his ear and hit his adversary full on the chest, sending him over on his back.

"Well aimed, father!" exclaimed Mariano, as the two turned and continued the ascent of the valley.

At its head Frais Vallon narrows into a rugged gorge, and is finally lost in the summit of the hills lying to the northward of Algiers. Here the panting pair arrived in half-an-hour, and here they found that all their comrades had arrived before them.

"Friends," said Castello, who was tacitly regarded as the leader of the party, "we have got thus far in safety, thank God! We must now make haste to Pointe Pescade. It lies about three or four miles along the shore. There a negro friend of mine has a boat in readiness. He told me of it only an hour before I spoke to you to-night. If we reach it and get off to sea, we may escape; if not, we can but die! Follow me."

Without waiting for a reply, Castello ran swiftly along a foot-path that crossed over the hills, and soon led his party down towards that wild and rocky part of the coast on which stand the ruins of a fort, said to have been the stronghold of the famous pirate Barbarossa in days of old.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

IS DIPLOMATIC AND OTHERWISE.

Just after the escape of the slaves, as already narrated, the British consul demanded a private audience of the Dey. His request was granted, and one morning early he set off on horseback to the city. Arriving there too soon, he put up his horse, and, threading his way through the streets of the old town, soon found himself in front of the small and unpretending, though massive, portal of Bacri the Jew.

He found the master of the house seated in the central court, or skiffa, drinking coffee with his wife and children.

"Bacri," said the Colonel, "may I venture to interrupt your present agreeable occupation? I wish to have a talk with you in private."

"With pleasure," replied the Jew, rising and ushering his visitor into a small apartment, the peculiar arrangement and contents of which betokened it the wealthy merchant's study or office,—indeed, it might have been styled either with equal propriety, for Bacri, besides being an able man of business, was learned in Arabic literature—of which the town possessed, and still possesses, a valuable library,—and was a diligent student of the Hebrew Scriptures.

"You are aware," said the Colonel, "that I am, at your request, about to use my influence with the Dey in behalf of certain friends of yours. Now, there is an old saying—and I have great respect for many old sayings,—that 'one good turn deserves another.' May I, then, ask you to do me a favour?"

"Certainly," said the Jew. "Name it."

"You must know, then, that the Dey has been pleased to send me a pretty Portuguese girl as a slave, along with her infant child."

"I know it," said Bacri.

"You do? Well, this poor girl turns out to be a very sweet creature, and my wife, although somewhat annoyed at first by the unexpected gift, and puzzled what to do with her, is now so fond of her, and finds her so gentle as well as useful, that she has set her heart on having Paulina Ruffini—that is her name—freed and sent home. This, however, is not the point. Paulina has a sister named—"

"Angela Diego," interrupted the Jew.

"Oh! you know that too?" said the Colonel, with some surprise. "You seem to know everything that goes on in this curious city! Indeed, it is a belief in this general knowledge of yours that brings me here. Well, poor Paulina is naturally in great anxiety about her sister's fate, not having heard of her since the day they were cruelly separated by Sidi Hassan. The latter is now my janissary, and tells me that he sold Angela to a Jew in the public market, and does not know where she is. Believing that you can find this out for me, I have come hither this morning on my way to the palace. Do you think you can?"

"I think I can," said the Jew, opening a door and beckoning to some one without. "Come hither, Angela. A gentleman wishes to see you."

"What! is this Paulina's sister?" said the consul in surprise, as a pretty bright-eyed girl obeyed the summons.

"Speak, fair one," said the Jew. "Dost know of one Paulina Ruffini, and her infant Angelina?"

We need scarcely add that Angela admitted, with a look of surprise, that she did, and was overwhelmed with joy on finding that her sister was a happy inmate of the consul's villa, and that in a short time she would be permitted to see her.

Leaving the Jew's house, well satisfied with his unlooked-for success in this matter, the consul proceeded to the palace, and was at once admitted into the audience-chamber.

According to custom, the Dey was seated on a sort of throne, with the huge lion-pup serving as a footstool. We have said before that this lion had a decided antipathy to the British consul. Not being able to speak, it could not give the reason why! Perhaps, although unable to speak, it might have been able to understand what was said, and, possibly, had taken offence at the straightforward manner in which the consul had more than once remonstrated with the Dey for allowing so old a pup to be at large. Be this as it may, certain it is that, on the present occasion, the lion raised its head when the consul was announced. On seeing his hated scarlet uniform, it uttered a savage growl, sprang up, and ran out of the room by another door, with its tail between its legs. In springing up, the brute had forgotten its temporary character of footstool. The result was that the Dey was tilted violently backwards, and fell off his throne in a confused and most undignified heap!

Fortunately for the lion—perchance also for the consul—Achmet possessed too much native dignity and common-sense to allow such an accident to ruffle his temper. He rose and resumed his seat with a hearty laugh, as he said—

"You see, Monsieur le Consul, that even lions are afraid of the English uniform!"

"Your highness is pleased to be complimentary," replied the consul, with a bow; "and that emboldens me to observe that a Dey should not retain the services of one who is capable of showing fear."

"Perhaps you are right," returned Achmet, with a smile; "especially one who has had the audacity to dethrone me.—And now, what demand have you to make of me to-day? Not, I trust, that old one—the liberation of slaves!"

"No, not exactly that," replied the consul. "Nevertheless," he added earnestly, "I do come to make an appeal in behalf of slaves."

The Dey's countenance became grave.

"I refer," continued the consul, "to those unfortunate slaves who recently attempted to escape, and are now lying in chains condemned to be bastinadoed, thrown on the hooks, and otherwise tortured to death."

"How!" exclaimed the Dey, frowning darkly, while a flush of anger covered his face, "can you plead for slaves who have not only rebelled and fled, but who have disabled two of my janissaries, and some of whom—especially their leader Castello and the young Sicilian Mariano— are so turbulent as to be an absolute nuisance to their guards?"

"Your highness is aware," answered the consul respectfully, "that British ideas in regard to slavery and all connected with it are widely different from those entertained by Algerines, and I do not presume to pass an opinion on the sentences pronounced on men who are held guilty of having violated your laws. I merely plead that you will extend to them the royal prerogative of mercy—especially to two of their number, Francisco and Mariano."

"On what ground do you ask mercy for these?" demanded Achmet sternly.

"On the ground that courageous and worthy men, although tempted to rebel in order to regain their liberty, are not deserving of death; that the Portuguese girl your Highness was so generous as to send me, and who was captured along with them, has interested me deeply in their history, and also on the ground that one is the father and the other the brother of your scrivano Lucien Rimini."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the Dey in surprise, "Lucien never told me that, although his own hand made out the order for their execution!"

"That," answered the consul, with a smile, "is because I advised him to leave the pleading of their cause to me."

"Believing, no doubt," returned the Dey, with a laugh, "that your powers of persuasion are superior to his. Well, Monsieur le Consul, you may be right; nevertheless, let me tell you that short though the time be in which Lucien has been my scrivano, there is that in his modest air and ready will, as well as his talent, which constitutes a sufficient plea to induce me to pardon his relations."

"It rejoices me," said the consul, "to find that, as I expected, your highness's—"

"Yes, yes; say no more on that head," interrupted the Dey. "Here! Lucien," he added, calling aloud to his secretary, who, clad in superb Oriental costume, appeared at the door which led into his office, "make out an order to cancel the sentence against your father and brother, and let them be sent to the palace immediately. I will speak with thee again on the matter.—Meanwhile, will Monsieur le Consul come and behold the present which I am preparing for my royal master the Sublime Porte?"

There was a touch of sarcasm in the tone in which he used the words "royal master," which the consul understood well enough, for he was aware that although nominally subject to Turkey, Algiers was to all intents and purposes an independent power, and that the present referred to was almost all the benefit derived by the Sultan from his piratical vassal.

It was costly enough, no doubt, viewed simply in the light of a gift, and afforded a subject of great interest to the consul when permitted to survey it—an honour, by the way, which the Dey would not have conferred on the consul of any of the other nations represented at the Algerine court, for the British consul at that time was, as we have said, a special favourite. It consisted of two magnificent milk-white Arab horses, richly caparisoned; their saddles and bridles being profusely ornamented with diamonds and other gems, and their shoes being made of pure gold; several boxes of rare and costly jewels; six women-slaves with skins of the most beautiful ebony tint; a number of black-maned lions, several parrots, and a few monkeys.

"Your highness is resolved to please the Sultan by means of variety," observed the consul, with a smile, after commenting on the gift in detail.

"That," replied Achmet, "would have little power to please if the jewels were not numerous and costly. But happily our treasury can afford it, although we have not been very successful in war of late."

He looked at the consul with a sly smile as he spoke, but the latter deemed it wise to be lost in admiration of some of the jewels in question.

After examining the "present," the consul retired, and Achmet went to his private apartments to enjoy a cup of coffee and a pipe.

The room in which he sat was similar to that already described as being the reception-room of the bridal party, only the decorations were if possible more elaborate and sumptuous. Here, seated on rich cushions, with, not his most beautiful, but his wisest wife beside him, Achmet— once a petty officer of janissaries—gave himself up to the enjoyment of the hour. Christian slaves—once the happy butterflies of European and other lands—attended on him, filled his pipe, brought him hot coffee, and watched his every movement. They were richly dressed, more richly and gaily, perchance, than they had ever been in the days of freedom, when they had been wont to chat and laugh with careless hilarity. But they were mute enough now. A few of them had tasted the bastinado and been tamed; most of them had been wise enough to tame themselves. If Shakespeare had been a Turk he would probably have written a very different version of the Taming of the Shrew!

When coffee was finished, the Dey ordered the attendants to withdraw, and then settling himself comfortably on the cushions, and puffing two white streams of smoke slowly through his nose, in order to gather the fullest enjoyment therefrom, he thus addressed himself to his better-proportion—we had almost said "half," but forgot for the moment that there were several Sultanas!

"Ashweesha, thou art a wise woman. I might almost style thee my guardian angel, for not only hast thou often guided me on the right road, but sometimes thou hast prevented me from straying into the wrong."

Ashweesha, who was a sweet and passably good-looking woman of about thirty, raised her large dark eyes to the face of Achmet with a look of gratitude, but did not reply. Indeed, her husband did not seem to expect an answer, for he continued to smoke for some time in silence, with his eyes fixed abstractedly on a tame gazelle—the kitten of the harem—which tried to attract his attention.

"Thou art sad, or anxious, to-night," said Ashweesha, at length breaking silence.

"Both sad and anxious," replied the Dey slowly. "My position is indeed one of power, but not of comfort or safety."

A shade rested for a moment like a flitting cloud on the face of Ashweesha. Gladly would she have exchanged her high estate, with all its costly and gorgeous array, for a life of humble toil accompanied with peace and security—for she was of gentle nature—but this was denied her.

"Listen," said the Dey, laying aside his pipe and talking earnestly; "it may well chance, as it has happened before, that thy counsel may lighten my care. I am sad because two of my chief officers are snakes in the grass. They are venomous too, and their bite will prove deadly if it be not avoided. Canst thou guess their names, Ashweesha?"

"Sidi Omar and Sidi Hassan," said Ashweesha.

Achmet looked surprised.

"Thou art partly right, though I did not expect thy swift reply. Is it a guess, or hast thou obtained information?"

"I have heard of it from one who is our friend."

"Indeed. Well, thou art right as to Omar, and it is that which makes me sad. Thou art right also in regard to Sidi Hassan, but I care little for him. He is but a tool in the hands of one whose power is great— Hamet, our Aga of cavalry. Omar I had hoped better things of; but fear him not. The Aga, however, is a dangerous foe, and unscrupulous. I do not clearly see my way to guard against his wiles. My chief safeguard is that he and Omar are bitter enemies. I know not what to do."

"The bow-string," suggested Ashweesha.

The reader must not think this suggestion inconsistent with the character of one whom we have described as gentle and sweet. The Sultana had been trained in a peculiar school, and was as much accustomed to hear of disagreeable and troublesome people being strangled as Europeans are to the drowning of inconvenient kittens.

The Dey laughed.

"Alas! my gentle one," he said, "all powerful and despotic though I be, there are a few officers around me whom I dare not get rid of in this way—at least not just now. But it amuses me to hear thee recommend such strong measures, thou who art always on the side of mercy."

"Truly," said Ashweesha, with a flash in her dark eyes that proved the presence of other elements besides sweetness in her disposition, "my leanings are always towards mercy, save when you have to deal with those who possess no mercy. If you do not apply the bow-string to Hamet in good time, rest assured that he will apply it to you."

The Dey became more serious at this, yet still smiled as he gazed in the flushed countenance of his spouse and adviser.

"Thou art right, Ashweesha," said he, in a meditative tone, "and it is for the purpose of finding out, if possible, when it is the right time to strike that I now take counsel with thee. What wouldst thou advise?"

"Sidi Hassan, you say, has been sent to be the British consul's janissary?"

"Yes."

"For what purpose?" asked the Sultana.

"Partly to keep him out of the way of the mischief which is always brewing more or less in this warlike city; partly to flatter his vanity by placing him in the service of one for whom he knows that I entertain great respect, personally, as well as on account of the powerful nation which he represents; and partly to remind him gently of my power to order him on any service that I please, and to cut off his insolent head if so disposed."

"That is so far well," said Ashweesha, letting her delicate henna-stained fingers play idly with the gorgeous pearls which fell like a lustrous fountain from her neck, "but it is possible that he may reflect on the propriety of trying to secure, at no distant date, a master who will reward him more liberally without conveying covert threats. But much good," she hastened to add, observing that her lord did not much relish her last remark, "much good may result from his being placed under the British consul's roof; for the consul's wife is a wise woman, and may help us to discover some of his plots; for plotting he is certain to be, whether in the city or out of it, and you may be sure that a clever woman like Madame Langley will have her eyes open to all that goes on in her own palace."

"Nay, then, Ashweesha," returned the Dey, laughing, "thou hast studied the lady to small profit if thou dost believe her capable of acting the part of a spy on her own domestics."

"And thou hast studied thy wife to small profit," retorted Ashweesha playfully, "if you think I could make such a mistake as to ask her to become a spy. Does not all the city know that Madame Langley has over and over again refused the most costly bribes offered to induce her to use her influence with her husband? and is it not also well-known that if her influence is to be gained at all, it must be by touching her heart? She is so open, too, in her conduct, that her domestics know all she does. Did I not tell you, the other night, how the chief from Marocco offered her a splendid diamond ring to induce her to intreat her husband's favour in something—I know not what,—and how she flushed with indignation as she refused it, and told the chief that all the diamonds in the world could not move her to attempt the leading of her husband from the path of duty? No, I will not ask her to become a spy, but I will lead her, in conversation, to tell me all she knows, or at least is willing to communicate, about Sidi Hassan; and perchance some good may come of it."

"It may be so," said the Dey; "and where and when dost thou propose to meet with her?"

"Here, and to-morrow."

"How! in the palace?"

"Yes. Ask her and her little girl to come and dine with me," said Ashweesha.

"That would be a high compliment," returned the Dey dubiously; "such as has never been paid before, methinks, by a Dey of Algiers to any consul's wife."

"No matter," returned the Sultana; "you have a high regard for Colonel Langley, and have often paid him unusual compliments,—why not compliment his wife?"

"Well, it shall be done. To-morrow afternoon prepare to receive her."



CHAPTER TWELVE.

MRS. LANGLEY AND AGNES GO OUT TO DINNER.

An agreeable surprise is something like sunshine in November; it warms up the constitution, mentally and physically.

Such a surprise did Mrs Langley receive the morning that followed the evening on which Achmet Dey and his Sultana held their private conversation on the affairs of state. "Agnes!" she exclaimed, reading a note with elevated eyebrows, "just fancy! here is an invitation for you and me to dine with the Dey's wife or wives!"

"Oh! won't that be delightful?" cried Agnes, coming from the court into the room where her mother sat, with such a bound, that she filled with sympathetic excitement the heart of the small negro girl from beyond the Zahara, and caused her to rock the cradle too violently.

"There, you've bumped it again; I knew you would!" said Mrs Langley, in tones of despair.

Poor Zubby's first awful glance of mingled deprecation and self-reproach was so touching that no one but a hardened monster could have withstood it; but the look, with the feelings which it implied, was short-lived. It passed like a summer cloud, and was replaced by an expression of supreme contentment and self-satisfaction when it became apparent that Master Jim was not going to awake, and that Mrs Langley's despair was vanishing. Indeed, that lady's despair was at all times remarkably short-lived. She had been trained in a school of dire adversity ever since the arrival of the coal-black one from beyond the Zahara, and had learned to hope against hope in an extraordinary degree in a case which was absolutely hopeless, for, whatever others might think or hope, Zubby knew herself to be incurable! Not that she was unwilling; on the contrary, there never was a more obliging or amiable creature among the sable daughters of Ham, but she had a tendency to forget herself, (as well as her charge), in moments of sudden emotion or delight, and gave way to burstlets of action, which, if slight, were always inopportune, and sometimes, though not often, disastrous.

"We must get ready immediately," continued Mrs Langley, with a cautioning shake of the head at Zubby, as she turned to Agnes; "because, you know, we may as well take the opportunity to do a little shopping before dinner."

"What! 'shopping' in the pirate city?" we hear you exclaim, reader.

Yes, there was shopping there in those days, though it did not bear much resemblance to shopping in more civilised lands. There were no wide fronts or plate-glass windows in those days. Indeed, then, as now, a shop in the Moorish town might be fitly described as a hole in the wall. It was, as it were, a deep window without an interior to speak of. A square hole, six feet by six, and from four to ten feet deep, without glazing or protection of any kind from the weather, except, in some cases, an awning, was a fair average shop; one of eight feet frontage was rather a "grand shop," and one of twelve feet was quite a "bazaar."

Of course such shops were stuffed, like eggs, to an excess of fulness. They gave one the impression that the goods had been packed into smaller space than was possible, and that the introduction of another pin would infallibly explode the whole affair. A passage among the goods in each shop, just big enough to admit an ordinary man, was the scene of action in which the owner disported. This passage did not begin at the street: so much valuable space could not be afforded. A counter laden with small wares had to be leapt in order to gain it, and a rope depending from the ceiling rendered possible the acrobatic feat which was necessary to do so. Purchasers had to stand in the streets and transact business, the said streets being so narrow that there was no room for lobbies or paved foot-paths. While engaged in traffic, buyers were compelled more or less to block the way, and had their garments scraped successively by Turks and Moors and veiled Mohammedan females, by Cabyles from the mountains, negroes from Timbuctoo, white slaves from almost every country in Europe, and donkeys of the most debased and abject type,—these latter, by the way, being quite as capable as the human—though not humane—beings who drove them of going up and down stairs. No slope short of a perpendicular dead wall appeared to be able to stop them, and no wonder, poor wretches! for no torture short of total destruction was spared them.

Ah! ye members of the "Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals" in Algiers, forgive us if we interject here the observation that there is earnest need for your activities at the present day!

Followed by the faithful though uncontrollable Zubby, with a huge triangular grass basket, Mrs Langley entered the tortuous streets of the city, and proceeded to "shop."

Fear not, reader! It is not our purpose to drag you through the details of the too well-known process. We pass onward to matters more important.

Having traversed several streets in which Moors sat cross-legged, embroidering purses and slippers with gold, in holes in the wall so small that a good-sized bust might have objected to occupy them; where cobblers, in similar niches, made and repaired round-toed shoes of morocco leather, and the makers of horn rings for fingers, wrists, arms and ankles wrought as deftly with their toes as with their fingers; where working silversmiths plied their trade in precious metals and gems in a free-and-easy open-air fashion that would have made the mouth of a London thief water; and where idle Arabs sipped coffee and smoked the live-long day, as though coffee and tobacco were the aim and end of life—which latter they proved indeed to many of them,—Mrs Langley with Agnes, followed by Zubby, paused before a niche in which were displayed for sale a variety of curious old trinkets of a nondescript and utterly useless character. In short, it appeared to be an Algerine curiosity-shop. Here, while bargaining with the owner for some small articles, she was surprised to hear a voice at her ear say in French—

"Madame, good morning; I have great pleasure in this unexpected meeting."

She turned hastily, and found the Danish consul standing by her side.

"Ah, monsieur," she said, returning his salutation, "it is indeed seldom that I wander alone through this labyrinth, but necessity compels me. An English friend wishes me to send her a few characteristic articles, and I can trust no one to choose them for me. But, you look anxious."

"Yes, excuse me," replied the Danish consul in haste, glancing round. "I am followed, persecuted I may say. I had intended to call for your husband to-day to beg him to use his influence with the Dey in my behalf, but I cannot—circumstances—in short, will you kindly mention to him that I am in trouble because of the non-payment of the tribute due by our Government, and—"

Breaking off suddenly, the Danish consul bowed low and hurried away. Mrs Langley observed that, immediately after, a chaouse, or executioner of the palace, passed her.

This incident induced her to conclude her shopping rather quickly, and furnished her with food for thought which entirely engrossed her mind until Agnes exclaimed—

"Oh mamma, look! look! they're going to shave a little boy!"

Mrs Langley, directed by Agnes's finger, looked and found that this was indeed true. A little boy, between eight and nine years of age, was seated in a barber's shop near them, with a towel about his neck, glancing timidly, yet confidently, in the face of an elderly man who advanced towards him with an open razor, as though about to cut his throat. As it turned out, however, neither throat nor chin were in danger of violation. It was the head that the barber attacked, and this he scraped quite bare, without the aid of soap, leaving only a tuft of hair on the top. This tuft, we have been informed, is meant as a handle by means of which the owner may, after death, be dragged up into heaven! but we rather incline to the belief that it is left for the purpose of keeping the red fez or skull-cap on the head.

Be this as it may, no sooner did the urchin behold Mrs Langley, than, casting aside the towel and ignoring the barber, he rushed out and exclaimed—in a compound of French, Arabic, and Lingua Franca, of which we give a free translation—

"Oh, missus, me massr, console Dansh, vants see ver moch your hosbund!"

"Thank you; I know it," replied Mrs Langley, giving the boy a small coin and a bright smile.

Quite satisfied that he had fulfilled his duty, the urchin returned to the barber and the lady proceeded to the palace.

Here she was received ceremoniously by the father of Ashweesha, Sidi Cadua, a mild, gentle-spirited, little old Turk, who would have made a very fine old English gentleman, but who was about as well fitted to be father-in-law to an Algerine Dey, and a man of position in the pirate city, as he was to be Prime Minister to the man in the moon.

Sidi Cadua conducted her to the seraglio, where she was heartily welcomed by the ladies, who expressed their delight at meeting her with girlish glee. Ashweesha laughingly said that she was glad to see Agnes had become a Mohammedan, on which Mrs Langley related what circumstances had caused the change, and the Sultana listened to the recital with tears of laughter running down her cheeks.

The English lady had naturally expected something gorgeous in the palace, but she was not prepared for the lavish display of wealth that met her eyes everywhere.

She found the Sultana and her six beautiful children in a room which, though not imposing in size, glittered with decoration. The ceiling and walls were rich with tessellated and arabesque work. The floor was covered with a carpet of cut velvet, with a pattern of the richest and most brightly-coloured flowers; and this carpet was strewn with costly jewels, which shone in the variegated light of the stained-glass windows above like glowing fire-flies. Around the walls were several recesses or niches, arched in the Moorish horse-shoe style. In one of these was a glass cabinet, on the shelves of which were some splendid articles of jewellery. In another recess hung a variety of swords and pistols, chiefly of Eastern manufacture, their handles and scabbards blazing with diamonds. Opposite to these stood a gilt four-post European bedstead, with four mattresses of gold brocade, and curtains of blue tiffany embroidered with gold sprigs. In fact, the apartment and its occupants were adorned with so much magnificence that the genie of Aladdin's famous lamp would not have improved it, for, although that remarkable personage might have brought unlimited treasure to its decoration, he would not have found a spare inch anywhere on which to bestow it!

The Sultana and her children were alone, with the exception of half-a-dozen beautiful Georgian slaves, and one or two negresses, who attended on them. Of course no gentlemen were present!

"My husband is very fond of yours," said Ashweesha, with a pleasant smile, leading her guests to a large cushion on the floor, and squatting them down beside her.

"It gratifies me much to hear you say so," replied Mrs Langley.

They spoke in a jargon of languages, and made up their deficiencies by signs, of which we dare not attempt a characteristic translation.

"He sent you a new slave-girl lately, I believe?" said the Sultana, beginning to feel her way.

"Yes," exclaimed the guest with animation, "it was very kind of him; and I find her so sweet and amiable, and useful too. She assists me with my dear baby so admirably, as well as with the household, that I begin already to feel as if I could not get on without her. Do you know I have set my heart on raising sufficient money to ransom her and set her free?"

"Then you will only lose her, for she will certainly go home to her husband," observed Ashweesha, with a look of simplicity.

"Of course; I count on that," returned Mrs Langley. "You know that we Christians differ from Mohammedans widely on the point of slavery; and I am sure," she added playfully, "you will not think me rude when I say that I mean to take advantage of your laws, and procure the ransom of as many slaves as possible during my residence here."

"If you had the wealth of a king," said Ashweesha, with a smile, "you could not ransom the half of them, they are so numerous."

"I am too well aware of that," rejoined the other sadly; "nevertheless, that does not exempt me from my duty. In the laws of my heavenly King and Saviour Jesus Christ it is written—'Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.'"

The Sultana bent a keen look of interest on her guest, and was about to reply, but seemed to change her mind, and said:—

"It was Sidi Hassan, I am told, who brought in this slave-girl; and, by the way, I hear that he has become your janissary. Do you like him?"

"I have seen so little of him that I can hardly tell.—You have walked with him in the garden, Agnes, several times; what do you think of him?"

"I don't like him at all!" answered Agnes, with powerful emphasis.

Both ladies laughed, and so did the six little daughters of the Sultana, who had maintained a dignified silence while their elders were conversing.

"My little girl is rather given to take hasty prejudices," said Mrs Langley apologetically.

"Does your husband find him useful?" continued the Sultana, returning to the charge.

"No doubt he does, but I really cannot say, for my husband has only mentioned him casually, and I never venture to speak of his business affairs unless called on to do so. The fact that Sidi Hassan has been much oftener in town than at our residence since he was sent to us, may account for my slight knowledge about him."

"Oh! he has been very often in town, has he?" exclaimed Ashweesha.

Before Mrs Langley could reply, an attendant announced that dinner was served in the adjoining room, whereupon the Georgian slaves were ordered to pick up the jewels that strewed the carpet. This they did, and, having locked them in the glass cabinet before mentioned, followed the party into the dining-room.

It was a somewhat peculiar dinner in many respects. There was great variety. Meat, poultry, pastry, and sweatmeats of strange kinds and forms, succeeded each other, and were done full justice to by all present. It was like a glimpse of paradise to little Agnes; for, having been brought up in the simplest of styles, and forbidden pastry and sweatmeats altogether since the day of her birth, she absolutely revelled in new sensations.

It must not be supposed that she violently broke through all restraints on this occasion; but her mother saw that if old rules were enforced, the child would be confused by the conflicting entreaties of her hostesses and the denials of her mother, while the Sultana might be offended. Mrs Langley, therefore, gave her carte-blanche to eat what she pleased.