"But, Pasha Effendi," said the lady, "I have had an adventure to-day."
"Bah!" said the Pasha; "what adventure can a woman have—forgot to paint your eyebrows or color your nails, I suppose."
"No, Pasha Effendi. Be patient, and I will tell you. I went out to-day to write a letter."
"A letter?" said the Pasha; "to whom would you write a letter?"
"Be patient," she said, "and I will tell you my story. So I came to the box of a young scribe with beautiful eyes."
"A young man with beautiful eyes," shouted the Pasha. "Where is he? I'll kill him!" and he drew his sword.
The Hodja in the chest heard every word and trembled in every limb.
"Be patient, Pasha Effendi; I said I had an adventure, and you did not believe me. I told the young man that the letter was long, and I could not stand in the street to write it. So I asked him to come and see me this afternoon."
"Here? to this house?" thundered the Pasha.
"Yes, Pasha Effendi," said the lady. "So the Hodja came here, and I gave him coffee and a cigarette, and we talked, and the minutes seemed like seconds, and the hours were as minutes. All at once came your knock at the gate, and I said to the Hodja, 'That is the Pasha; and if he finds you here, he will kill you.'"