"For myself, yes--but not for you. Who was it that persuaded you to descend from your dignity, and lower yourself, by yielding to the instigations of malice? Who was it that advised the _bastinado_? As a woman, I am too proud to be jealous of her; but as one who values your honour, and your reputation, I cannot permit you to have so dangerous a counsellor. Your virgins, your omras, your princes, will all be at her mercy; your throne may be overturned by her taking advantage of her power." The sultan hesitated. "Sultan, you have but to choose between two things; if she be alive to-morrow morning, I am dead by my own hand. You know I never lie." The sultan clapped his hands, the kislar aga again appeared. "_Her_ head," said he, hesitatingly. The kislar aga waited a little to ascertain if there was no reprieve, for too hasty a compliance with despots is almost as dangerous as delay. He caught my eye--he saw at once that if not her head it would be his own, and he quitted the room. In a few minutes he held up by its fair tresses the head of my beautiful rival; I looked at the distorted features, and was satisfied. I motioned with my hand and the kislar aga withdrew. "Now, Zara, do you forgive me? Now do you believe that I sincerely love you, and have I obtained my pardon?" "Yes," replied I, "I do, sultan; I forgive you all; and now I will permit you to sit by me and bathe my feet." From that day I resumed my empire with more despotic power than ever. I insisted that I should refuse his visits when I felt so inclined, and when I imagined that there was the slightest degree of satiety on his part, he was certain to be refused admittance for a fortnight. I became the depositary of his secrets and the mover of his counsels. My sway was unlimited, and I never abused it. I loved him, and his honour and his welfare were the only guides to my conduct. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ "But your highness will probably be tired; and as I have now told how it was that I suffered the bastinado, you will perhaps wait till to-morrow for the history of the bowstring." "I believe that the old woman is right," said Mustapha, yawning, "it is late. Is it your highness's pleasure that she shall return to-morrow evening?" "Be it so; but let her be in close custody--you remember." "Be chesm--on my eyes be it. Guards, remove this woman from the sublime presence." "It appears to me," said the pacha to Mustapha, "that this old woman's story may be true. The description of the harem is so correct-- commanding one day, bastinadoed the next." "Who can doubt the fact, your sublime highness? The Lord of Life dispenses as he thinks fit." "Very true; he might send me the bowstring tomorrow." "Allah forbid!" "I pray with you; but life is uncertain, and it is our fate. You are my vizier to-day, for instance--what may you be to-morrow?"