Ruzeea Begum was a woman of commanding person, handsome but repelling, and exhibiting in her countenance the somewhat stern and decisive tone of her mind.
“Slave,” said the sovereign, still keeping her eye upon the mirror, “you have won the approbation of your royal mistress, who intends to advance you to the dignity of an appointment in her household.”
The slave was silent.
“Do you prefer the drudgery of bondage to the lighter labours of attendance upon your Queen?”
“I am a bondsman, at the will of a mistress which must be to me a law; I have therefore no choice; wherever I may be placed I shall know how to do my duty.”
“Does the approbation of your sovereign give you no satisfaction?”
“Much, because it assures me that I deserve it, for the approbation of sovereigns is seldom bestowed unless it be fairly won.”
“To show you that mine has been won, from this moment you are free; and may your future conduct show that I have not disgraced my confidence!”
“My conduct will never be influenced by obligations, however nobly conferred. I have a conscience upon which is recorded, in characters stamped by the hand of Heaven, my rule of life—that I shall obey.”
Bameea hung down her head. She feared that this bold bearing might rouse the excitable temper of the haughty Queen; but Ruzeea Begum did not appear in the slightest degree disturbed, and answered with unusual mildness: