Lallcheen was exceedingly mortified at the sentiments expressed by the young king. They were scored upon his mind with literal fidelity, and he secretly meditated revenge, though he did not show it openly. He had sprung from a race of bold haughty barbarians, who held freedom to be the pole-star in the firmament of human glory; and the friction from the fetters of bondage seemed to rub against the very core of his heart. He panted for liberty as a drowning man does for the air which the waters exclude from his lips; and the disappointment with which the sovereign’s definitive resolution was charged came over his spirit with a crushing burden that for a moment seemed to weigh it down to the lowest level of degradation. His fierce passions, however, which had long slumbered under the assuasive kindness of his late master, rose to his relief, casting off the burden from his soul as with an arm of might and lifting it where it could soar unincumbered from the trammels of its griefs, devise new motives of action, and nerve itself to high and important resolves. The slave had a daughter, the fame of whose beauty had reached the ears of Gheias-ood-Deen. She was as celebrated for her wit as for her personal attractions, and her skill in music was so perfect that she eclipsed all the regular professors of the capital. There was not an accomplishment of which she was not mistress. Her celebrity had already gained her many admirers, and the king expressed a desire to see her. Lallcheen was not sorry at the opportunity which this circumstance might afford him of mortifying the sovereign, or of punishing him more effectually, and therefore determined to throw the lovely Agha in his master’s way in the palace gardens, to which the slave had free access. The king was one morning walking in the gardens with his brother Shums-ood-Deen, a remarkably beautiful boy in his sixteenth year. “Who is that yonder, brother,” asked the latter, “by the marble tank?” “I know not; but, by the gait and figure, something to admire.” “She retires: I fear we shall lose the opportunity of ascertaining who she may be, for handsome strangers are not wont to visit the private gardens of the palace.” “Go quickly and bid her stop;--say the king desires a word with her.” Shums-ood-Deen bounded forward, and overtook the stranger as she was retiring behind an arbour through a path which led to a back entrance into the gardens. “Stay, damsel,” said the prince; “the king desires a word with you.” The stranger turned, and exhibited to the wondering eyes of the royal youth features and a form of such extraordinary beauty that he gazed in speechless admiration. Agha, for it was she, stood before him with a demeanour of undisturbed modesty without uttering a word, awaiting the sovereign’s approach. Gheias-ood-Deen was no less amazed than his brother with the houri form upon which his eyes, as he approached, instantly became riveted.