"Let my lord efface all traces and memory of my degradation. Was not I struck by two vile slaves, who will babble through the city? Was not I held down by an executioner? These arms, which have wound round the master of the world, and no other, polluted by his gripe."

The sultan clapped his hands, and the kislar aga appeared. "Quick,"

exclaimed he, "the heads of the slaves and executioner who inflicted the punishment." In a minute the kislar aga appeared; he perceived how matters stood, and trembled for his own. He held up the three heads, one after another, and then returned them to the sack of sawdust in which they had been brought.

"Are you satisfied now, Zara?"

"For myself, yes--but not for you. Who was it that persuaded you to descend from your dignity, and lower yourself, by yielding to the instigations of malice? Who was it that advised the _bastinado_? As a woman, I am too proud to be jealous of her; but as one who values your honour, and your reputation, I cannot permit you to have so dangerous a counsellor. Your virgins, your omras, your princes, will all be at her mercy; your throne may be overturned by her taking advantage of her power."

The sultan hesitated.

"Sultan, you have but to choose between two things; if she be alive to-morrow morning, I am dead by my own hand. You know I never lie."

The sultan clapped his hands, the kislar aga again appeared. "_Her_ head," said he, hesitatingly. The kislar aga waited a little to ascertain if there was no reprieve, for too hasty a compliance with despots is almost as dangerous as delay. He caught my eye--he saw at once that if not her head it would be his own, and he quitted the room.

In a few minutes he held up by its fair tresses the head of my beautiful rival; I looked at the distorted features, and was satisfied. I motioned with my hand and the kislar aga withdrew.

"Now, Zara, do you forgive me? Now do you believe that I sincerely love you, and have I obtained my pardon?"

"Yes," replied I, "I do, sultan; I forgive you all; and now I will permit you to sit by me and bathe my feet."

From that day I resumed my empire with more despotic power than ever. I insisted that I should refuse his visits when I felt so inclined, and when I imagined that there was the slightest degree of satiety on his part, he was certain to be refused admittance for a fortnight. I became the depositary of his secrets and the mover of his counsels. My sway was unlimited, and I never abused it. I loved him, and his honour and his welfare were the only guides to my conduct.

"But your highness will probably be tired; and as I have now told how it was that I suffered the bastinado, you will perhaps wait till to-morrow for the history of the bowstring."

"I believe that the old woman is right," said Mustapha, yawning, "it is late. Is it your highness's pleasure that she shall return to-morrow evening?"

"Be it so; but let her be in close custody--you remember."

"Be chesm--on my eyes be it. Guards, remove this woman from the sublime presence."

"It appears to me," said the pacha to Mustapha, "that this old woman's story may be true. The description of the harem is so correct-- commanding one day, bastinadoed the next."

"Who can doubt the fact, your sublime highness? The Lord of Life dispenses as he thinks fit."

"Very true; he might send me the bowstring tomorrow."

"Allah forbid!"

"I pray with you; but life is uncertain, and it is our fate. You are my vizier to-day, for instance--what may you be to-morrow?"

"Whatever your highness may decide," replied Mustapha, not much liking the turn of the conversation. "Am not I your slave--and as the dirt under your feet--and shall I not bow to your sovereign pleasure and my destiny?"

"It is well said, and so must I if the caliph sends me a Capitan Badji, which Allah forbid. There is but one G.o.d and Mahomet is his Prophet."

"Amen," replied Mustapha. "Will your highness drink of the water of the Giaour?"

"Yes, truly; for what says the poet? 'We are merry to-day and to-morrow we die.'"

"Min Allah; G.o.d forbid! That old woman has lived a long while, why shouldn't we?"

"I don't know; but she has had the bowstring and is not yet dead. We may not be so fortunate."

"May we never have it at all; then shall we escape, O pacha."

"True, Mustapha; so give me the bottle."

VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER SIX.

The next evening the old woman made her appearance without raising any difficulty as on the previous day, and took her seat before the pacha, and thus continued:--

As I stated to your highness last evening when I broke off my narrative, I was in the highest favour with the sultan, who made me his confidant.

He had often mentioned to me the distinguished services of a young seraskier, whom he had lately appointed capitar pacha, to combat in the north against a barbarous nation called Sclavonians, or Russians. My curiosity was raised to see this rustam of a warrior, for his exploits and unvaried success were constantly the theme of the sultan's encomiums. A Georgian slave who had been the favourite previous to my arrival, and who had never forgiven my supplanting her, had been sent to him by the sultan as a compliment; and this rare distinction had been conferred upon him on the day when I requested leave to remain behind the screen in the hall of the divan, that I might behold this celebrated and distinguished person. He was indeed a splendid figure, and his face was equally perfect. He formed, in outward appearance, all that I could imagine of a hero. As I looked at him from behind the screen, he turned his head from me, and I beheld to my surprise the red stain on his neck, which told me at once that I had found my long-lost brother. Delighted at the rencontre, I retired as soon as the audience was over, and the sultan came to my apartment. I told him the discovery which I had made.

The sultan appeared pleased at the information; and the next day sending for my brother he asked him a few questions relative to his lineage and former life, which corroborated my story, and loading him with fresh honours he dismissed him. I was delighted that in finding my brother I had found one who was not unworthy of the sultan's regard, and I considered it a most fortunate circ.u.mstance; but how blind are mortals! My brother was the cause of my disgrace and eternal separation from the sultan. I mentioned to your highness that the Georgian slave who had preceded me in the sultan's favour had been sent as a present to my brother. This woman, although she had always appeared fond of me, was in fact my most bitter enemy. She was very beautiful and clever, and soon obtained the most unlimited influence over my brother. Yet she loved him not; she had but one feeling to gratify, which was revenge on me. My brother had so often led the troops to victory, that he had acquired an unbounded sway over them. Stimulated by their suggestions and his own ambition, which like mine was boundless, he was at last induced to plot against his master, with the intention of dethroning him and reigning in his stead. To his new wife, the Georgian, he had entrusted his plans, and she resolved to regain the favour of the sultan and accomplish my ruin by making me a party, and then communicating to him the treason which was in agitation. She proposed to my brother that he should inform me of his intentions, alleging, that in all probability I would a.s.sist him, as I cared little for the sultan; and at all events if I did not join, my interest might save him from his wrath. For some time he refused to accede to her suggestions, but as she pointed out that if the plot were discovered, I, as his sister, would certainly share his fate, and that she well knew that I had never forgiven the punishment of the bastinado which I had received, and only waited for an opportunity to revenge myself, he at last consented to make me a party to his intentions. My brother had been allowed to visit me, and he took it opportunity of stating to me his schemes. I started from him with horror, pointed out to him his ingrat.i.tude and folly, and intreated him to abandon his purpose. Convinced that I was firmly attached to the sultan, he appeared to acquiesce in the justice of my remarks, confessed that he was wrong, and promised me faithfully to think no more of his treacherous designs. I believed him to be sincere, and I shed tears of joy as I thanked him for having yielded to my intreaties. We separated; and in a short time I thought no more of the subject.

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

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

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

I did not know how to answer this question, and I would not tell a lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I cannot answer that question, my lord."

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

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

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