delicate as the tint of a shell, glowed in her cheeks; her large, dark eyes looked straight at Ahmed, drawing in all the proud beauty of his face; her hair lay soft and thick without its veil above her brows, and one heavy tress fell forward over her shoulder to her knee.  Ahmed lay watching her, his eyes filled with sombre fires, his whole soul listening to the song; and one other lay listening also, and this was Murad, crouching in the shade of the orange-tree plantation, catching with distended ears that flood of passionate melody wafted to him over the still garden, from the window of Ahmed’s apartment, from the Selamlik.

When the song was finished, and the last notes had faltered softly into silence, Ahmed rose from his divan and crossed to where she sat.  The room was full now of hot rosy light; the scent of the orange flowers poured in through the windows; the girl’s senses grew confused and dizzy.  Her cheeks were flaming with the excitement and joy and effort and passion of her singing; her eyelids were cast down, and beneath them her eyes watched, half in terror, half in a strained delight, the blue Persian slippers advancing silently over the matting on the floor towards her.

“Will Dilama stay with me to-night?”

The girl looked up, whitening to the lips, and slid to a kneeling position.  Terror at the thought of infidelity to Murad filled her; he would infallibly find it out and avenge himself.  Her face worked convulsively; she stretched out her hands with a gesture of despair.

“What my lord wills:  I am the slave of his wishes.”

Ahmed drew his level brows together, and for a moment lined the serene beauty of his forehead.  He gazed at her with a steady, puzzled look, and at last a faint, half-quizzical smile relaxed his lips.  What could this strange idea, this whim be, so unlike all Eastern maiden’s usual fancies?  He had not yet solved the riddle, nor found the clue! he would do so, but in the meantime she must be left her freedom.  In all noble natures power brings with it a terrible responsibility, and the habit of stern self-control and long forbearance.  Ahmed’s complete power over the frightened piece of humanity before him brought upon him the necessity practically of surrender; for the Turk possesses one of the noblest and gentle natures the human race can boast of.  Ahmed remained silent for a few seconds, and the girl gazed upon him with dilated, fascinated eyes.  She noted in a dazed way how the dark blue robe parted on his breast and showed beneath a vest of gold silk, fastened a little to the side by a single emerald; how the column of throat towered above these, supporting the oval face and beautifully-modelled chin, and above these again, and the commanding brows, shone another solitary emerald between the folds of his turban on his forehead.