Halil the Pedlar: A Tale of Old Stambul

by Mór Jókai

Here the eyes of the father and the husband involuntarily filled with tears.

"Wherefore do you weep? How silly of you! Why, you know, of course, it is only a tale. Listen now to how it goes on! The robber carried the maiden he had stolen to Stambul. He took her straight to the Kizlar-Aga whose office it is to purchase slave-girls for the harem of the Padishah. The bargaining did not take long. The Kizlar-Aga paid down at once the price which the slave-merchant demanded, and forthwith handed Irene over to the slave-women of the Seraglio, who immediately conducted her to a bath fragrant with perfumes. Her face, her figure, her charms, amazed them exceedingly, and they lifted up their voices and praised her loudly. But when Irene heard their praises she shuddered, and her heart died away within her. Surely God never gave her beauty in order that she might be sacrificed to it? At that moment she would have much preferred to have been born humpbacked, squinting, swarthy; she would have liked her face to be all seamed and scarred like half-frozen water, and her body all diseased so that everyone who saw her would shrink from her with disgust—better that than the feeling which now made her shrink from the contemplation of herself.

Then they put upon her a splendid robe, hung diamond ear-rings in her ears, tied a beautiful shawl round her loins, encircled her arms and feet with rings of gold, and so led her into the secret apartment where the damsels of the Padishah were all gathered together. This, of course, was long, long ago. Who can tell what Sultan was reigning then? Why, even our fathers did not know his name.

"Pomp and splendour, flowers and curtains adorned the immense saloon, the ceiling whereof was inlaid with precious stones, while the floor was fashioned entirely of mother-o'-pearl—he who set his foot thereon might fancy he was walking on rainbows. Moreover, cunning artificers had wrought upon this mother-o'-pearl floor flowers and birds and other most wondrous fantastical figures, so that it was a joy to look thereon, for no carpet, however precious, was suffered to cover all this splendour. Yet lest the cold surface of the pavement should chill the feet of the damsels, rows of tiny sandals stood ready there that they might bind them upon their feet and so walk from one end of the room to the other at their ease. And these sandals they called kobkobs."

"Aye, aye!" cried the anxious Janaki, "you describe the interior of the Seraglio so vividly that I almost feel frightened. If a man listened long enough to such a tale he might easily get to feel as guilty as if he had actually cast an eye into the Sultan's harem, and 'twere best for him to die rather than do that."

"Is it not a tale that I am telling you? is not the room I have just described to you but a creature of the imagination?—In the centre of this saloon, then, was a large fountain, whence fragrant rose-water ascended into the air sporting with the golden balls. Along the whole length of the walls were immense Venetian mirrors, in which splendid odalisks admired their own shapely limbs. Hundreds and hundreds of lamps shone upon the pillars which supported the room—lamps of manifold colours—which gave to the vast chamber the magic hues of a fairy palace, and in the midst thereof seemed to float a transparent blue cloud—it was the light smoke of ambergris and spices which the damsels blew forth from their long narghilis. But what impressed Irene far more than all this magnificence, was the figure of the Sultana Asseki, to whom she was now conducted. A tall, muscular lady was sitting at the end of the room on a raised divan. Her figure was slender round the waist but broad and round about the shoulders. Her snow-white arms and neck were encircled by rows of real pearls with diamond clasps. A lofty heron's plume nodded on her bejewelled turban, and lent a still haughtier aspect to that majestic form. With her large black eyes she seemed to be in the habit of ruling the whole world."

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Janaki, "you describe it all so vividly, that I am half afraid of sitting down here and listening to you. You might at least have let a little bit of a veil hang in front of her face."

"But this happened long, long ago, remember! Who can even say under what Sultan it took place?... So they led the slave-girl into the presence of the Sultana, who was surrounded by two hundred other slave-girls, and was playing with a tiny dwarf. They were singing and dancing all around her and swinging censers. Above her head was a large fruit-tree made entirely of sugar, and covered with sugar-fruit of every shape and hue, and from time to time the Sultana would pluck off one of these fruits and taste a little bit of it and give the remainder to the tiny dwarf, who ate up everything greedily. Here Irene was seized by a black eunuch—a horrid, pockmarked man, whose upper lip was split right down so that all his teeth could be seen."

"Just like the present Kizlar-Aga!" cried Musli laughing, "I fancy I can see him standing before me now!"

"The Moor commanded Irene to fall on her face before the Sultana. Irene fell on her face accordingly, and while her forehead beat the ground before the Sultana she muttered to herself the words: 'Holy Mother of God! protectress of virgins, thou seest me in this place, when I call upon thee, deliver me!' The Sultana, meanwhile, had commanded her handmaidens to let down Irene's tresses, and as she stood before her there covered by her own hair from head to heel, she bade them paint her face red because it was so pale, and her eyelashes brown. She commanded them also to salve her hair with fragrant unguents, and to hang chains of real pearls about her arms and neck. Irene knew not the meaning of these things. She knew not what they meant to do with her till the Kizlar-Aga approached her, and said these words to her in a reassuring tone: 'Rejoice, fortunate damsel! for a great felicity awaits thee. In a week's time it will be the Feast of Bairam, and the favourite Sultana has chosen thee from among the other odalisks as a gift for the Padishah. Rejoice, therefore, I say.' But Irene at these words would fain have died. And in the meantime the Sultana had placed a large fan in her hand made entirely of pea-cocks' feathers, and permitted her to sit down by her side and hold the little dwarf in her lap. At a later day Irene discovered that this was a mark of supreme condescension. During the next six days the damsel lived amidst mortal terrors. Her companions envied her. The damsels of the harem do not love each other, they can only hate. Every day she beheld the Sultan, whose gentle face inspired involuntary respect, but the very idea of loving him filled her soul with horror. The Sultan spent the greater part of his time with his favourite wife, but it happened sometimes that he cast a handkerchief towards this or that odalisk, which was a great piece of good fortune for her, or the reverse—it all depends upon the point of view. The damsel whom the Grand Seignior seemed to favour the most was a beautiful blonde Italian girl; on one occasion this beautiful blonde damsel neglected to cast her eyes down as they chanced to encounter the eyes of the Sultana. The following day Irene could not see this damsel anywhere, and on inquiring after her was told by her bedfellow in a whisper that she had been strangled during the night. And oftentimes at dead of night the silence would be broken by a shriek from the secret dungeon of the Seraglio, followed by the sound of something splashing into the water, and regularly, on the day following every such occurrence, a familiar face would be missing from the Seraglio. All these victims were self-confident slave-girls, who had been unable to conceal their joy at the Sultan's favours, and therefore had been cast into the water. Nobody ever inquired about them any more."