Fatima looked up, with all her native pride upon her brow; “He shall never be my master!” she replied, with so much firmness, that (astonished as they were) convinced the bargainers that Fatima was in earnest.  The merchant inquired her objection, us she had betrayed no unwillingness to be sold to him; she answered firmly, whilst the starting tear was in her eye, “My objection to that man is our inequality:  I am of noble birth.  My willingness to become your slave, was to free me from the hands of those who first premeditated my murder; and sooner than my liberty should be sold to the creature I must detest, this dagger”, as she drew one from her vest, “shall free me from this world’s vexations”.

’This threat settled the argument, for the slave-merchant calculated on the loss of three hundred dinars he had paid to the Bedouin; and Fatima, aware of this, without actually intending any violence to herself, felt justified in deterring the slave-merchant from further importunities.  Several suitors came to see, with a view to purchase the beautiful Arab of noble birth, but having acted so decidedly in the first instance, the merchant felt himself obliged to permit her to refuse at will, and she rejected all who had made their proposal.

’Meer Hadjee Shah, in the fulfilment of his promise to his wife at parting, to take home a slave for her attendant, happening at that time to be passing through Mocha, inquired for a slave-merchant:  he was conducted to the house where Fatima was still a prisoner with many other less noble, but equally unhappy females.  Fatima raised her eyes as he entered the hall; she fancied by his benevolent countenance that his heart must be kind; she cast a second glance and thought such a man would surely feel for her sufferings and be a good master.  His eye had met hers, which was instantly withdrawn with unaffecting modesty; something prepossessed him that the poor girl was unhappy, and his first idea was pity, the second her liberation from slavery, and, if possible, restoration to her friends.

’When alone with the slave-merchant, Meer Hadjee Shah inquired the price he would take for Fatima.  “Six hundred pieces of silver (dinars),"[11] was the reply.—­“I am not rich enough,” answered the pilgrim; “salaam, I must look elsewhere for one:”  and he was moving on.—–­“Stay,” said the merchant, “I am anxious to get that girl off my hands, for she is a stubborn subject, over whom I have no control; I never like to buy these slaves of high birth, they always give me trouble.  I paid three hundred dinars to the Bedouin for her, now if she will agree to have you for her master (which I very much doubt, she has so many scruples to overcome), you shall add fifty to that sum, and I will be satisfied.”

’They entered the hall a second time together, when the merchant addressed Fatima.  “This gentleman desires to purchase you; he is a Syaad of India, not rich, he says, but of a high family, as well as a descendant of the Emaums.”—­“As you will,” was all the answer Fatima could make.  The money was accordingly paid down, and the poor girl led away from her prison-house, by the first kind soul she had met since she quitted her benefactress in the Bedouins’ retreat.