"Be kind enough to enter, Sitta Nefysseh." "Not alone. My women will accompany me." "No, they are to remain here. You alone are to enter. The women will await your return here." Sitta Nefysseh walked proudly into the next apartment. The curtain fell back behind her. Cousrouf, who lay stretched out on his silken cushions, smoking his chibouque, looked up at her through the clouds of smoke that enveloped him as she entered the room. She looked at him composedly, and remained standing at the door with so proud and dignified a bearing, such majesty in her whole appearance, that Cousrouf's insolence could not but succumb. He arose and advanced to meet her. "I salute you, Sitta Nefysseh, widow of Mourad Bey!" "I do not return your salutation. I have been conducted here from my house in an insulting manner, and I am now surprised to find that his highness seems only to have had me brought here in order to salute me." "I did not call you in order to salute you, but for an entirely different purpose," replied Cousrouf. "Seat yourself on the ottoman beside me, and let us converse." "Converse, highness? Friends and confidants sit down to converse with each other, but unfortunately we are neither," replied she, composedly, as she seated herself on the ottoman with the dignity of a princess. Cousrouf remaining standing, Sitta Nefysseh raised her hand and pointed to the divan. "To the viceroy belongs the seat of honor. I beg your highness to take that seat." He bowed slightly, and took the seat assigned him. "I wished to beg Sitta Nefysseh's permission to seat myself at her side,to converse with her as a friend. You do not desire it, however--you wish to see in me the prince only. Let it be so. I am only the viceroy, and I have summoned you to appear before me." "Summoned, you call it?" cried she, passionately. "I call it being dragged here in a disgraceful manner!" "Compose yourself, Sitta Nefysseh; let us converse calmly. I have grave reproaches to make." "Against me?" asked she, in astonishment. "Yes, serious, grave reproaches! You are of the opinion, are you not, that every mistress is responsible for the actions of her servants?" "I am, because, if one has bad and faithless servants, he should discharge them. Yes, it seems to me a master is responsible for his servants' actions." "And therefore, have I summoned you to this audience. Do you know what your kachef Youssouf has done?" Sitta Nefysseh trembled. It was fortunate that her veil concealed her features, and that Cousrouf could not see the deathly pallor that overspread her cheeks. "My kachef?" said she, with forced composure. "Of what is he accused?" "He is accused of attempting to bribe my soldiers, and incite them to revolt and treason."