"Kosh amedid! you are welcome," said the pacha, as the kessehgou entered the divan: he was a slight, elegantly moulded person, of about thirty years of age. "I am here in obedience to the will of the pacha," replied the man in a most musical voice, as he salaamed low. "What does his highness require of his slave Menouni?" "His highness requires a proof of thy talent, and an opportunity to extend his bounty." "I am less than dust, and am ready to cover my head with ashes, not to feel my soul in the seventh heaven at the condescension of his highness; yet would I fain do his bidding and depart, for a vow to the Prophet is sacred, and it is written in the Koran--" "Never mind the Koran just now, good Menouni; we ask of thee a proof of thy art. Tell me a story." "Most proud shall I be of the honour. Will not my face be whitened to all eternity? Shall your slave relate the loves of Leilah and Majnoun?" "No, no," replied the pacha; "something that will interest me." "Then will I narrate the history of the Scarred Lover." "That sounds well, Mustapha," observed the pacha. "Who can foresee so well as your sublime highness?" replied Mustapha. "Menouni, it is the pleasure of the pacha that you proceed." "Your slave obeys. Your sublime perspicuity is but too well acquainted with geography--?" "Not that I know of. Hath he ever left his slippers at our threshold, Mustapha?" "I suspect," replied Mustapha, "that he goes all over the world, and therefore he must have been here. Proceed, Menouni, and ask not such questions. By virtue of his office, his sublime highness knows everything." "True," said the pacha, shaking his beard with great dignity and satisfaction. "I did but presume to put the question," replied Menouni, whose voice was soft and silvery as a flute on a summer's silent eve, "as, to perfectly understand the part of the world from which my tale has been transmitted, I thought that a knowledge of that science was required: but I have eaten dirt, and am covered with shame at my indiscretion, which would not have occurred, had it not been that the sublime sultan, when I last had the honour to narrate the story, was pleased to interrupt me, from his not being quite convinced that the parts of the world were known to him. But I will now proceed with my tale, which shall go forward with the majestic pace of the camel, proud in his pilgrimage over the desert, towards the shrine of our Holy Prophet." THE SCARRED LOVER.