“And is he then so very beautiful?” inquired the Khanum, with apparent listlessness.
“My lady, I am told that he is indeed beautiful as Youssuf,[[85]] and strong and valiant as Antar, nevertheless the down of manhood is newly written on his lip.”
“Who may be your informant as to this wondrous youth?” said the Khanum, in a tone in which curiosity was veiled under a semblance of haughtiness.
“May it please you, my lady, it was Ferraj, the confidential servant of Osman Bey, who has seen this youth called Hassan both in the street and at the jereed play; and Ferraj is a man who has eyes—Mashallah! he is not blind. I have before now served him in luring birds of beauty to his master’s net, and——”
“Peace, woman,” said the lady sternly. “Think you that I care to hear the intrigues of that ruffian Bey?” then dropping her voice to a lower key, she added, “Well, I will see this youth—I think you called him Hassan. When can you bring him hither?”
“It is not difficult, lady; to-morrow, if you will—unless he is absent on duty. Ferraj says that though all are afraid of him if he is angry, yet he is good-natured and simple as a child, and that if I only tell him that some one is in danger or in trouble, he is sure to come at once.”
“Well, be it for to-morrow,” said the lady impatiently; “only let me know in time whether you have succeeded.”
“And if I do succeed,” said the crone, “and if he be as beautiful as I have said, what will the generous lady bestow on her slave?”
“That,” replied the Khanum, pointing to a small European purse ornamented with pearls which lay upon a stool of ebony inlaid with mother of pearl beside her, and through the network of which a certain number of gold coins were visible. “Go now, be silent and faithful, or ... you know me.”
“That do I,” muttered the crone between her teeth, as she made her salam and left the room. “I know thee for the veriest dragon that ever wore the form of woman.”