“I shall manage it without assistance; come this evening and you shall see, Mustapha.”
Mustapha made his appearance in the afternoon, and the pacha smoked his pipe for some time, and appeared as if communing with himself; he then laid it down, and clapping his hands, desired one of the slaves to inform his favourite lady, Zeinab, that he desired her presence.
Zeinab entered with her veil down. “Your slave attends the pleasure of her lord.”
“Zeinab,” said the pacha, “do you love me?”
“Do not I worship the dust that my lord treads on?”
“Very true—then I have a favour to request: observe, Zeinab—it is my wish that,”—(here the pacha took a few whiffs from his pipe)—“The fact is—I wish you to dishonour my harem as soon as possible.”
“Wallah sel Nebi!!—By Allah and the Prophet your highness is in a merry humour this evening,” replied Zeinab, turning round to quit the apartment.
“On the contrary, I am in a serious humour; I mean what I have said; and I expect that you will comply with my wishes.”
“Is my lord mad? or has he indulged too freely in the juice of the grape forbidden by our Prophet? Allah kebur! God is most powerful—The hakim must be sent for.”
“Will you do as I order you?” said the pacha angrily.