"But how long will Hassan have a shadow?"
"Till his night cometh—but that is still far off."
"Hast thou not heard of the case of Ajas Pasha, Yffim?—of Ajas, who was the mightiest of all the Pashas?"
"He was the Sultan's son-in-law."
"The Grand Seignior gave him his own daughter to wife, and loaded him with every favour. One day Ajas lost a battle against the Zrinyis. It was not a great defeat, but the Sultan was wrath and beheaded Ajas Pasha."
"H'm! I recollect, it was a sad story."
"And dost thou remember the story of the faithful Hiassar? Ajas charged him to bring to him before his death his favourite wife, not his whole harem which thou hast brought to Hassan Pasha, but only his favourite wife, that he might take leave of her; and dost thou know that for doing this thing the Sultan had Hiassar roasted to death in a copper ox? For a disgraced favourite possesses nothing—all he had is the Sultan's, his treasures, his wives and his children; and whoever lays his hand upon them is robbing the Sultan. Who knows, Yffim Beg, but what at this moment I may not be the Sultan's slave-girl? and from slave-girl to favourite is but a step, and thou knowest it would be but a short step for me."
"What accursed things thou art saying."
"The wife of Ajas Beg was the Sultan's favourite at the time when Hiassar was burnt, and a word from her would have saved him. But she said it not, because she was wrath with him; methinks the woman loved him once, and the slave despised her love. Give me my mandoline, Yffim, I would sing a song."
The odalisk lay back upon the bed, while Yffim anxiously paced to and fro like a hyena fallen into a snare. The story just related had a striking resemblance to his own, and it would not take very much to give it a similar termination.