How calm and beautiful lay the waters of the Golden Horn beneath the light of that lovely moon which shone so chastely and so serenely above, as if pouring its argent luster upon a world where no evil passions were known--no hearts were stained with crime--no iniquity of human imagining was in the course of perpetration. But, ah! what sound is that which breaks on the silence of the night! Is it the splash of oars? No--for the two black slaves who guide yon boat which has shot out from the shore into the center of the gulf, are resting on the slight sculls--the boat itself, too, is now stationary--and not a ripple is stirred up by its grotesquely-shaped prow. What, then, was that sound? 'Twas the voice of agony bursting from woman's throat; and the boat is about to become the scene of a deed of horror, though one of frequent--alas! too frequent--occurrence in that clime, and especially on that gulf. The gag has slipped from Calanthe's mouth; and a long loud scream of agonizing despair sweeps over the surface of the water--rending the calm and moonlit air--but dying away ere it can raise an echo on either shore. Strong are the arms and relentless is the black monster who has now seized the unhappy Greek maiden in his ferocious grasp--while the luster of the pale orb of night streams on that countenance lately radiant with impassioned hope, but now convulsed with indescribable horror. Again the scream bursts from the victim's lips; but its thrilling, cutting agony is interrupted by a sudden plunge--a splash--a gurgling and a rippling of the waters--and the corpse of the murdered Calanthe is borne toward the deeper and darker bosom of the Bosporus. The sun was already dispersing the orient mists, when the chief of the three black slaves once more stood in the presence of the grand vizier, who had passed the night in the anteroom, alone, and a prey to the most lively mental tortures. So noiselessly and reptile-like did the hideous Ethiopian steal into the apartment, that he was within a yard of the grand vizier ere the latter was aware that the door had even opened. Ibrahim started as if from a snake about to spring upon him--for the ominous bowstring swung negligently from the slave's hand, and the imperial signet still glistened on his finger.