"Indeed, no! He paid the Validé Sultana ten provinces, and a brass buckle besides, to prevent her giving me to Timour; who took it so hard that he would have broken his heart, but that the grief went the wrong way and cracked his legs, and so they call him Timour-lenk. That was the reason he made war on the Ottomans. It was all out of jealousy for me," said she, making a low and mock courtesy. "But if you could see the beautiful odalisk who made this! Her form is as stately as the dome of St. Sophia."
"She's too big and squatty, if she's like that," laughed the officer.
"Her face glows in complexion like the mother of pearl," went on the enthusiastic saleswoman.
"Too hard of cheek!" sneered the other. "Even yours, Hanoum, is not so hard as mother of pearl."
"A neck like alabaster——"
"Cold! too cold! I would as soon think of making love to a gravestone," was the officer's comment.
"And such melting lips——"
"Yes, with blisters! I tell you, old Hanoum, I'm woman proof. Go away!"
"And her eyes shine through her long lashes like the stars through the fir trees on the Balkans."