glad to return to its home and reassume its perch, so did I consider it would be the case with the sultan.  I never, therefore, wearied him with tears or reproaches, but won him back with smiles and good humour.  I expected that this new face would detach him for a short time, and for a fortnight he never came into my apartment.  He had never been away so long before, and I was rather uneasy.  He visited me one morning, and I asked him to sup with me.  He consented, and I invited three or four of the most beautiful women of the seraglio, as well as the lady of his new attachment, to meet him.  I thought it wise so to do, to prove to him that I was not displeased, and trusting that the Circassian might suffer when in company with others of equal charms, who from neglect might reassume their novelty.  The Circassian was undeniably most beautiful; but, without vanity, she was by no means to be compared to me; she had the advantage of novelty, and I hoped no more, for I felt what a dangerous rival she might prove if her wit and talents were equal to her personal charms.  The sultan came, and I exerted myself to please, but, to my mortification, I was neglected; all his attentions and thoughts were only for my rival, who played her part to admiration, yielded to him that profound respect and abject adulation, which, on my part, had been denied him, and which he probably, as a novelty from a favourite, set a higher price upon.  At last I was treated with such marked insult, that I lost my temper, and I determined that the sultan should do the same.  I handed him a small apple.  “Will my lord accept this apple from the hand of his slave?  Is it not curious in shape?  It reminds me of the wen under your Majesty’s left arm.”

The sultan coloured with rage.

“Yes,” replied I, laughing, “you have one of them, you know very well.”

“Silence!  Zara,” cried the sultan, in a firm tone.

“And why should I be silent, my lord?  Have not I spoken the truth?”

“False woman! deny what you have falsely uttered.”

“Sultan, I will not deny the truth.  I will, if you command me, hold my tongue.”

“Your slave has been honoured with my lord’s attentions, and denies the assertion as a calumny,” observed my rival.

“Peace, wretch! thou hast proved thyself unworthy of the honour, by thy lying tongue.”

“I tell thee, Zara, silence! or you shall feel my indignation.”

But I was now too angry, and I replied, “My lord, you well know that I once held my tongue for eighteen months, I therefore can be silent when I choose; but I can also speak when I choose, and now I do choose to speak.  I have said it, and I will not retract my words.”

The sultan was white with rage; my life hung upon a thread; when the Circassian maliciously observed, “The bastinado might induce her to retract.”

“And shall,” exclaimed the sultan, clapping his hands.

The Kislar Aga appeared, in obedience to the sultan’s orders; the executioner of the harem, and two slaves stretched me on the floor,—­I made no resistance or complaint; my jewelled slippers were taken off, and all was ready for the disgraceful punishment.