The Buyuk Hanoum received us with much courtesy, and apologized for not having welcomed us herself on our first arrival in her own apartment, owing to her having been at the moment in the bath; and she appeared much amused at the mistake, (of which her slaves had already informed her) that had brought us under her roof. She had formerly been a fine woman, but was no longer young, and had consequently lost all the charming _fraicheur_ (I use the French word, for it is perfectly untranslateable) which is the great beauty of Oriental females. In the course of conversation, we discovered that she was sister to one of the wives of Achmet Pasha; and had herself been to pay a visit to the harem of Mustapha Pasha the previous day. As our engagement still remained to be fulfilled, we did not long linger in the apartment of the Buyuk Hanoum; but, taking leave of herself and her pretty little daughter-in-law, who had, during our visit, remained standing at the end of the room, with her hands folded meekly before her, while we shared the sofa of the hostess: we placed ourselves under the guidance of a bearded and turbaned Moslem, who was awaiting us in the courtyard, and once more sallied forth. What a walk we had! Up and down, and in and out, until I began to think that the tales of Eastern enchantment that I had read in my girlhood were now realized for my individual inconvenience, and that the palace was receding as rapidly as we advanced. I was not, however, suffered to persist in this idle fancy, for we really _did_ arrive at last, although some hours later than we should have done, before the great gates of an extensive edifice, which I am bound to admit had, externally, more the appearance of a barrack than a palace. Half a dozen servants, several of them negroes, were lounging in listless idleness at the entrance, which our arrival instantly changed into ready and officious bustle. We were ushered across an extensive courtyard to one of the wings of the palace, a vast, irregular, pile of building; and a single stroke upon the door of the harem was immediately answered from within: a group of smiling female slaves received us in an inner court, wherein stood the araba of the Buyuk Hanoum, and a very handsome marble fountain, at which a pretty girl of about eighteen was performing her ablutions. A couple of the negroes accompanied us up stairs, and, leading us across a very handsome saloon, whose recesses were filled with cushions, and whose open gallery commanded the court beneath, showed us into a smaller apartment, and seated us on a sofa, whereon lay a mandolin and a tambourine, probably flung there by some fair musicians whom our approach had startled from their pastime.