Little did the young Hanoum suspect that she loved the Giaour. She never dreamt of passion; but, with all the generous anxiety of innocence, unconscious that a warmer feeling than that of mere pity urged her to the effort, she began to muse upon the means of diminishing the irksomeness of a captivity which she was incapable of terminating. The first, the most natural impulse led her to sweep her hands across the chords of her Zebec; and as she remarked the start of agreeable surprise with which the sound was greeted by the courtly prisoner, her young heart bounded with joy, and the wild song gushed forth in a burst of sweetness which chained the attention of the captive, and afforded to the delighted girl the opportunity of a long, long look, that more than repaid her for her minstrelsy.
During the evening she watched to ascertain whether a repetition of her song would be expected, and she did not watch in vain; for more than once the Russian noble leant from his casement, and seemed to listen; but he came not there alone; one of his companions in captivity was beside him; and Rèchèdi Hanoum, although she guessed not wherefore, had suddenly become jealous of her minstrelsy, and would not exhibit it before a third person.
On the morrow, an equally graceful, and equally successful effort whiled the prisoner for a time from his sorrows. A cluster of roses, woven together with a tress of bright dark hair, was flung from the casement of the young beauty, at a moment when the back of the stranger was turned towards her. It fell at his feet, and was secured and pressed to his lips, with a respectful courtesy that quickened the pulses of the donor; but not a glimpse of the fair girl accompanied the gift; and it seemed as though the Baron had suspected wherefore, for ere long he was alone in his apartment; and, when he had dismissed his attendants, he once more advanced to the window, and glanced anxiously towards the jealous lattices by which it was overlooked.
There was a slight motion perceptible behind the screen; a white hand waved a greeting; and the imprisoned noble bent forward to obtain a nearer view of its fair owner. For a moment Rèchèdi Hanoum stood motionless, terrified at the excess of her own temerity; but there was a more powerful feeling at her heart than fear; and in the next, she forced away her prison-bars for an instant; and, with the telltale hand pressed upon her bosom, stood revealed to her enraptured neighbour.
From that day the young beauty allowed herself to betray to the captive her interest in his sorrows; she did more; she admitted that she shared them; and ere long there was not an hour throughout the day in which the thoughts of Rèchèdi Hanoum were not dwelling on the handsome prisoner.
Thus were things situated during two long years, when the death of the reigning Sultan, at the termination of that period, induced the Ambassadors of England and France to demand from his successor, Selim III., the liberty of the Russian Minister. The request was refused, for the war was not yet terminated; and the new Sovereign required no better pretext for disregarding the representations of the European Ambassadors, than the continuation of hostilities between the two countries. But Selim had other and more secret reasons for thus peremptorily negativing their prayer; and it will be seen in the suite that they did not arise from personal dislike to the captive Muscovite.
Like Haroun Alraschid of Arabian memory, the new Sultan, during the first weeks of his reign, amused himself by nocturnal wanderings about the streets of the city in disguise; attended by the subsequently famous Hussèin, his first and favourite body-page; and immediately that he had refused compliance with the demand of the Ambassadors, he resolved on paying an incognito visit to his prisoner at the Seven Towers. As soon as twilight had fallen like a mantle over the gilded glories of Stamboul, he accordingly set forth; and having discovered himself to the Commandant, and enjoined him to secresy, he entered the anti-chamber of the Baron, where he found one of his suite, to whom he expressed his desire to have an interview with the captive Ambassador.
The individual to whom the Sultan had addressed himself recognised him at once; but, without betraying that he did so, contented himself with expressing his regret that he was unable to comply with the request of his visitor, the orders of the Sultan being peremptory, that the Baron should hold no intercourse with any one beyond the walls of the fortress.
On receiving this answer, Selim replied gaily that the Sultan need never be informed of the circumstance; and that, being a near relation of the Commandant, and having obtained his permission to have a few minutes’ conversation with the prisoner, he trusted that he should not encounter any obstacle either on the part of the Baron himself, or on that of his friends.
The Dragoman, with affected reluctance, quitted the room, to ascertain, as he asserted, the determination of His Excellency, but in reality to inform him of the Imperial masquerade; and in five minutes more the disguised Sultan and his favourite were ushered into the apartment of the Ambassador.