The old woman, hearing the order to take her into custody, again repeated, “Ah, very well—the time has been.” The slaves laid hold of her; but she defended herself so vigorously with her teeth and nails, that they were under the necessity of gagging her, and tying her hand and foot. They then hoisted her on their shoulders: and marched off with her to the palace, followed by Mustapha and the pacha, the latter quite delighted with his adventure. When the divan of the ensuing day had closed, the old woman was ordered to be brought into the presence of the pacha; and as she refused to walk, she was brought on the shoulders of four of the guards, and laid on the floor of the council-chamber. “How dare you rebel against the sublime commands?” inquired Mustapha with severity.
“How dare I rebel!” cried the old woman with a shrill voice. “Why, what right has the pacha to drag me from my poor hovel; and what can he want with an old woman like me? It’s not for his harem, I presume.”
At this remark the pacha and Mustapha could not help laughing: having recovered his gravity, Mustapha observed, “One would imagine, old carrion that thou art, that the idea of such a punishment as the bastinado had never entered your mind.”
“There you are mistaken, Mr Vizier, for I have suffered both the bastinado and the bowstring.”
“The bowstring! Holy Prophet! what a lying old hag!” exclaimed the pacha.
“No lie, pacha, no lie!” screamed the old woman in her wrath. “I have said it—and the bowstring. Yes, the time has been, when I was young and beautiful; and do you know why I suffered? I’ll tell you—because I would not hold my tongue—and do you think that I will now, that I’m an old piece of carrion? Yes—yes—the time has been.”
“Fortunately, then,” replied Mustapha, “you are not required by the pacha to hold your tongue. You are required to do the very contrary, which is, to speak.”
“And do you know why I received the bowstring?” screamed the old hag. “I’ll tell you—because I would not speak; and I do not intend so to do now, since I find that you wish that I should.”
“Then it appears,” said the pacha, taking the pipe out of his mouth, “that the bastinado was as ill managed as the bowstring. We do these things better at Cairo. Hear me, old mother of Shitan! I wish to know what you mean by that expression which is ever in your mouth, ‘time has been.’”
“It means a great deal, pacha, for it refers to my life—you want the story.”