Without recurring to the dangerous practice of a leaf of haschich bruised in her hookah, or a grain of arsenic dissolved in treacle, her imagination could now create a new and charming world for her. She foolishly pursued her vain reveries about the conquest of Shivas. She saw herself transported to another country—to Paris—where every one could freely admire her beauty, now the property of one only, where she could receive the homage of all, conquering a thousand hearts at once, whilst still reserving her own for the beloved object. Is not that the greatest joy and happiness known on earth to woman? But could not this revery be realized without the intervention of any army? Baïla waited for some time for some realization of her chimera; then, when she had ceased to think of it, ennui, terrible ennui again took possession of her. Sickly languor succeeded. She sought a cause for her suffering, and that cause she found in the walls of the harem, which oppressed and stifled her. The Sultan Mahmoud, during the latter part of his life, had permitted his women to leave the seraglio, well escorted and supervised. The younger dignitaries of the Sublime Porte, the avowed partisans of the new order of things, following his example, had in their turn essayed this usage. Baïla knew it, and she determined to conquer this pleasant liberty for herself. At the very mention of it to the pacha, he regarded her with fierce and flashing eyes, and swore by Mahomet and the four caliphs, it was his dreaded oath, that if any other of his women had made such a proposal to him, her head would have already leaped off at a blow from his yatagan. Baïla desisted, but the refusal increased the intensity of the desire which she felt. She also swore, not by the four caliphs, but by her woman’s will, to attain her end, whatever road she must travel, or whatever peril she must brave. The mere idea of this new struggle in which she was engaged, cured her of half her languor. What was this end? She must first examine herself in order to define it. From the summit of the terraces of the winter palace she had already seen a part of the monuments of the city; she had visited the citadel, the caravansery, the mosque in the train of the pacha. It was not, therefore, for this that she aspired to this phantom of freedom. The bazaars remained; but had not the pacha caused to be conveyed to the harem whatever they contained precious and rare in brocades, velvets, precious stones, and sculptured gold, that she might see and choose from them? The privation could not then be felt on this account.