“Such, your highness, were the adventures attending my Second Voyage,” concluded the renegade, with an inclination of his head.
“And a very good voyage too! I like it better than your first. Mustapha, give him ten pieces of gold: you will bring him here to-morrow, and we will hear what happened in his third.”
“You observe,” said Mustapha, when the pacha had retired, “my advice was good.”
“Most excellent!” replied the renegade, holding out his hand for the money: “To-morrow I’ll lie like any barber.”
Volume One--Chapter Seven.
“Keoda shefa midêhed—God gives relief!” cried the pacha, as the divan closed: and, certainly, during its continuance many had been relieved of their worldly goods, and one or two from all future worldly thoughts or wanderings.—“What have we to-day, Mustapha?”
“May your highness’s shadow never be less!” replied the vizier. “Have we not the slave who offered to lay his story at your sublime feet, on the same evening that we met those sons of Shitan—Ali and Hussan, who received the punishment merited by their enormous crimes? Have we not also the manuscript of the Spanish slave, now translated by my faithful Greek; who tells me that the words are flowing with honey, and their music is equal to that of the bulbul when singing to his favourite rose?”
“And the Giaour who relates his voyages and travels,” interrupted the pacha—“where is he? No kessehgou of our own race tells stories like unto his.”