"Not at all wonderful!" replied the old woman, "when you recollect that
she was required to speak."
* * * * *
Once and once only, did I nearly break through my resolution. Two of the
principal favourites were conversing in my presence.
"I cannot imagine," said one, "what Ali can see in this little minx to
be so infatuated with her. She is very ugly--her mouth is large--her
teeth are yellow--and her eyes not only have no expression, but look
different ways. She has one shoulder higher than the other, and worse
than all, being dumb, cannot be taught anything but dancing, which only
shows her ugly broad feet."
"That is all true," replied the other. "If I was Ali, I should employ
her as a common slave; she is fit for nothing but to roll up and beat
carpets, boil rice, and prepare our coffee. A little of the slipper on
her mouth would soon bring her to her senses."
I must own that I was near breaking through my resolution, that I might
have indulged my revenge, and had not the door suddenly opened, I should
have proved to them that I could have spoken to some purpose, for never
would I have ceased, until they had both been sewn up in sacks, and cast
into the Bosphorus. But I restrained myself, although my cheeks burned
with rage, and I more than once put my hand to my jewelled dagger.
I was often visited by Osman Ali, who in vain attempted to make me
speak; a harsh guttural sound was all which I would utter to express
pain or pleasure. At last, being convinced that I was dumb, he exchanged
me with a slave-merchant for a beautiful Circassian girl. He did not
state my supposed infirmity, but gave it as a reason for parting with
me, that I was too young, and required to be taught. As soon as the
bargain was struck, and the merchant had received the money which had
been given by Ali to effect the exchange, I was despoiled of my dress
and ornaments, and put in a litter, to be conveyed to the house of the
slave-merchant. As your highness may imagine, not a little tired of
holding my tongue for a year and a half----
* * * * *
"By the beard of the prophet, we can believe you on that point, good
woman. You may proceed."
"Yes, yes, I may proceed. You think women have no resolution, and no
souls--be it so--and what you dignify with the name of perseverance in
your own sex, you call obstinacy in ours. Be it so--time has been."
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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