“I perceive,” said Ben Tarab, “that you know nothing of the works we do here, and perhaps some other might suit your capacity better; every man has not the gift of doing all things.—We have slaves, now, that manufacture powder, and armour, and cast cannon; do you like that business?—What! you’re afraid of such combustibles?—You change colour at the very mention of them: there you and I agree.—We have others that hew and drag timber, some that get in our three harvests, some that make bricks, and a few that work in the great El Hader’s gardens.—I can promote you to any of these departments if you know how to be thankful for such a favor.”
“I know how to be thankful;” said Sebastian gently, “give me any occupation so it be but in the fresh air of heaven, and require little more than bodily exertion, and I will thank you sincerely.”—
“Well then,” replied the Moor, “you may as well change into the gardens; there you will have nothing to do, but trudge about, pruning and digging, fetching water from the fountains to the baths, plenty to do, and nothing to crack your brains with thinking of: if you behave well, and shew any signs of rare sagacity, you may get promoted, and become at last, fruit-gatherer and flower-gatherer for the women.”—
“Ben Tarab!” said Sebastian, after a thoughtful pause, disregarding the brute’s contemptuous air, “Is there any offer that could persuade you into becoming my friend?—procure for me permission to send to one of the Portuguese forts, and I will not only engage to be ransomed at a high price, but will faithfully promise you a hundred gold crowns for your kindness.”
“So then, you are a nobleman?” replied Ben Tarab, attentively eyeing him, “I thought so the moment I saw you: but hark ye my friend, the great El Hader prides himself upon despising ransoms; if the King of Portugal himself were living, and a slave within these walls, he must offer a thousand of such crowns as that he was crowned with, before he could move a true Mussulman: Slaves here, are slaves for life; and I hate you all too cordially ever to betray my trust and risk my neck for such scoundrels.”
As Ben Tarab ended, he disappeared with a malicious grin, and in a short time re-entered with an older Moor, who looked awhile at Sebastian, and then conducted him out of the court: the latter followed his steps in silence, strongly wrestling with his own outraged feelings, which were almost chafed into fury, by the mingled malice and cowardice of Ben Tarab.
After traversing several open quadrangles and stone galleries, they came at length to the gardens: they were admitted through magnificent gates, curiously wrought in open work of cast iron, and covered with gilding; as he entered, Sebastian felt an emotion long unknown to him, an emotion of delight.
The gardens were spacious and verdant, beautified with marble fountains and canals; their terraces were shaded by tall trees of the freshest green, and the air that fanned them was impregnated with the perfume of orange flowers.
Sebastian could not respire air thus perfumed, without instantly thinking of the gardens of Count Vimiosa; the first day he had seen Donna Gonsalva came back to his recollection with all the force of a present scene: he stopt, cast his eyes round, scarcely breathed, almost expecting to see her celestial beauty advance from some of the groves:—But he saw no one, till his conductor led on still further, and brought him to a spot where a few slaves were employed in cutting a subterraneous passage, from a bower of Arabian jessamine, to one of the baths.—Stopping at this place, the Moor shewed the King his new occupation.
After toiling in silence till long past sunset, the slaves were dismissed to their distant lodgings, where a miserable supper awaited them.