“You made all inquiries at the bazaar, good Mustapha?” asked the Sultan.

“Most rigid inquiries, excellency.”

“And could learn nothing of the history of this beautiful slave?” continued the Sultan.

“Nothing, excellency.”

“It is very strange that no one can be found who knows aught about her.  Did you trace her back to those who sold her to the salesman of the bazaar?”

“Yes, excellency, and two sales beyond that; but it seemed that although so beautiful, the fact of her being dumb had caused her to be very much undervalued, and she had passed through the hands of a number of irresponsible slave merchants, who took but little heed of her before she came to the bazaar.”

“Doubtless, then, we may hardly expect to hear more concerning her.”

“The reward you offered was munificent, excellency, but has brought no response.”

“You have not yet purchased for me those Georgians, good Mustapha,” continued the monarch, after a few moments’ pause, and probably desiring to change a subject in which he felt that he was only too much interested.

“Excellency, they are held at so high a price that I have refused to pay it.”

“Well, well, be discreet, and purchase shrewdly,” said the Sultan, resuming his pipe.

And in this manner the Sultan forgot his lovely slave, and removing the mouth-piece of his pipe now and then, continued to question his slave touching the matters that seemed to pertain to his department of the household.

Poor Lalla! she had only her own unhappiness to brood upon as she sat by some rippling fountain and watched its silvery jets and sparkling drops, at times forgetting for a moment her sadness of heart in the beauty that completely surrounded her; and then again, perhaps mingling her tears with the fragrant blossoms that strewed her lap and filled her hands.  Alas! poor child! how it would have eased the quick beating of thy heart if thou couldst have told the story of thy unhappiness to some other confiding spirit.

The idiot boy would watch these tears, and at times he would wear a fixed, vacant stare, as though he took no note of their meaning; and at others, he would seem to comprehend their sorrowful import.  When this was the case, he would creep close to her side and lay his head by her feet, and closing his eyes, remain as motionless as death.  This would at length arouse her from her unhappy mood, and she would turn and gently caress the poor boy.  Once when she had done this, she saw a large tear drop steal out from beneath his closed eyelids, and fall across his check.  She rejoiced at this, for, while all others set him down as without feeling, she saw that kindness at least would awaken his heart.

Lalla had been weeping, and now sat alone by a bed of fragrant flowers, when one of those fairy-like children of the harem, scarcely older than herself, came tripping with light and thoughtless steps towards her, and detecting her saddened mood, kissed way the tears that still lingered upon her cheeks, and binding a wreath of fresh and beautiful flowers about her head, lay down in Lalla’s lap and toyed with the stray buds, looking up into her eyes with gentle love and tenderness.