"Well?"
"Well, but the very highest compliment that a pasha can pay you is to leave you one of his wives. He generally makes it an old stock-keeper, something that has been a good thirty years or so in the seraglio."
Mr. Figgins took the liveliest interest in this narrative.
He was growing rapidly convinced of the truth of Jack's descriptions of these singular manners and customs of the country in which they were.
Yet he eyed Jack as one who has a lingering doubt.
"Ahem!" said Mr. Figgins, "I don't think that I shall join you on your visit ashore in the morning."
"We'll see in the morning," said Jack; "it's a pity to put off your trip for the sake of such a trifling danger as that of having a wife or so given to you."
"It's no use," said Mr. Figgins, "my mind is fully made up; I shall not visit the pasha."
"It will be taken as a grave insult to go ashore without paying your respects to his excellency."
"I can't help that," returned the orphan, resolutely; "I won't visit him."