“Not I, cavalier; I came to these charnel vaults to exchange a kiss or two on the lovely lips of the Pacha’s daughter, though, the plague to my whiskers! if the gloomy Mahometans were in possession of my secret, I should be impaled before sunrise, and my blue-eyed Sultana would doubtless expiate the crime of “lighting up her heart” at the shrine of affection, by being closed in a sack and thrown into the lake.  But, I felt persuaded, there was something English, in the tones of your voice.  Did you forsake Old Albion for the sultry, pestilential deserts of these infernal realms?”

“Not absolutely; my travels would have terminated at Constantinople—­at the Gem of Turkish Cities—­if the Sultan had not commanded me to convey a message to the Pacha of Aleppo, relative to the punishment of some refractory rebels.”

“Oh! oh! then you will remain here.  But the time of my departure is rapidly approaching, for when the beams of to-morrow’s sun again illumine the earth, I shall make my best bow to Aleppo—­to its angelic Peris, and retire with my beautiful Sultana—­the charm and grace of this eastern fairy land!  But diable! you love a story, and I will tell you of every circumstance combined with my singular adventure for a wife.  Sit down, cavalier, and lend an ear to my romance.”

I complied; and the associate of my solitude amused me by exhibiting his humorous loquacity.

“It was sunset, and the starry loveliness of the skies had not assumed the splendour which now deepens around them with a tinge of purple, when I left the Turkish Divan, and, after dismissing my companions, proceeded ad libitum along the streets of Aleppo.  You may feel surprise at my temerity, but, remember, that a person delegated by the Porte is as secure in the public walks as if he were honoured with the chains and straw of a dungeon in the Pacha’s palace.  But, as I pursued my path with sauntering steps, I heard the sound of a lute, accompanied by one of the sweetest voices that ever beguiled a Peri, and turning to ascertain the cause of the music, I caught a glimpse of the loveliest woman in Aleppo; but I forgot, in the fervour of the moment, that my feet were treading on hallowed and forbidden ground—­the gardens and seraglio of the Pacha!—­and if my beautiful visitant had not expressed her assurance of unalterable protection, I should have resigned the rose of my story—­the loadstar of my life.  But why should I extend my recital.  I succeeded in captivating the affection of a Pacha’s daughter, and, to brighten my future hopes, she revealed her elevated rank to me;—­yes, I obtained a triumph which far transcends the energetic deeds of the warrior, and immortalized my adventure with vows of eternal constancy!  Since that period, we have selected this cemetery as a place more exclusively designed for the effectual development of our concerted escape, and I have at length adopted the determination of depriving the Divan of its brightest gem.  To-morrow we shall quit this enchanted land, and pursue our course to the Island of the West.  But hark!  I hear the sound of my Peri’s lute among the cypress trees—­she is waiting to embrace me.  Farewell! and if she is not my bride ere another sunset, I will consent to have my body suspended, like the coffin of Mahomet, between earth and sky.”