“I am but nineteen,” she said, “a Circassian by birth, and was brought by my parents to Constantinople, and sold, at the age of nine years, to a friend of Fatma Hanoum’s. I was very happy, for she was kind to me, and I thought to pass my life in her harem; but about a year ago I accompanied her hither on a visit to the wife of Mustafa Effendi, at a moment when her son was beside her. I was one of four; and I do not yet understand why nor how I attracted his attention as I stood beside my companions; but a few days afterwards my mistress called me to her, and asked me if I had remarked the young Ismaël Bey when we had visited his mother. I told her that I had seen him; and she then informed me that the Hanoum desired to purchase me, in obedience to his wish; and demanded of me if I was willing to accede to the arrangement. Of course, I consented, and the Bey, having considered me as agreeable when I had withdrawn my _yashmac_ as he had anticipated, he purchased me for ten thousand piastres, and I became an inmate of the harem of Mustafa Effendi—I am still happy,” she added plaintively, “very happy, for I am sure he loves me; but I nevertheless hope to be more so; for ere long I shall be a mother, and should my child prove to be a boy, from his _Odalique_ I may perhaps become his wife.” I pitied the poor young creature as I listened to her narrative, through the medium of my companion, who spoke the Turkish language fluently; and I breathed a silent prayer that her visions of happiness might be realized. She was not pretty; but she was so childlike, so graceful, and so gentle, that she inspired an interest which, when I had heard her story, was even painful; nor was the feeling lessened by an introduction to her husband, who, during the evening, sent to desire that all the women, save his mother and wife, should retire, as he intended to visit the harem; doubtlessly as much to satisfy his curiosity, as to exhibit his courtesy, by paying his respects to the European guests of his mother. Sallow and sickly-looking, inanimate, even for a Turk, and apparently _bête comme une bûche_, he seated himself, and listened to the conversation that was going forward, with one unvaried and inexpressive smile— Pleased, he knew not why, and cared not wherefore; dividing his admiration between the Frank ladies, and the brilliancy of a large diamond that he wore on his finger.