“Doubtless it has so happened, though he would have preferred meeting another.” “And who is that other?” “Thyself.” “Me!” exclaimed Baïla, with her face suffused with blushes, as if she did not expect this reply, which she had skillfully extracted in order to force Mariam into her confidence. “And what does he want with me?” “What does he want?” replied the old negress, again a prey to her first emotion. “What does he want? God keep me from saying?! He alone can tell you. But it will be death perhaps for us three.” Baïla was silent for a moment. “He has hoped to see me again?” she then asked. “If one may believe him, he would give his life a thousand times to realize this hope; and moreover—” “What else does he wish?” “It is his secret, not mine, I have already said too much.” They were interrupted; Mariam retired abruptly and Baïla remained alone with the serpent of curiosity which was gnawing into her heart. Shortly afterward, during the night, whilst the pacha was at the city of Tocata, where the cares of government detained him, a man was brought furtively into the gardens of the Red River. A bostangi had found means to introduce him in a flower vase. This bostangi, gained by rich presents, conducted him by then deserted paths to the pavilion of the favorite. Baïla was in the bath, when the Abyssinian negress appeared and made her a signal. The beautiful odalisk, under a pretext of a desire to repose, then dismissed her serving-women, after they had bound up her hair and carefully perfumed her person. Her slaves dismissed, she dressed herself with the assistance of Mariam, but in such haste that her cashmere girdle, tied negligently, kept her robe scarcely half closed, and her long veil thrown around her, alone concealed the richness of her shoulders and bust. She stopped on her way to the saloon in which the mysterious visiter awaited her. Her respiration failed, a nervous tremor agitated her beautiful limbs, and made her skin, still moist with rose-water and the essence of sandal-wood, to shiver—placing her hand on her heart to restrain, as it were, its tumultuous beatings, she murmured, “I am afraid!” “What do you fear now?” said Mariam, sustaining her by her arms, and whose courage, like a game of see-saw, appeared to be exalted and strengthened in proportion as that of her mistress failed. “The pacha is far off—every thing around us sleeps; this Frank, whom you desired to see and whom you are about to see, has crossed the portals of the palace without awakening suspicion. He awaits you; he has not trembled in coming to you; time is precious, he counts it impatiently, let us join him.”