"'I am!' I replied.
"The fat little beast on the dais spat at me, the foul expectoration falling short of my robe by barely a foot.
"'Your body, the body I bought,' he yelled, 'is damned by the cursed sign of the cross, they tell me.'
"I gave him no reply, and he yelled, 'I will see for myself.' Then to the two eunuchs, he yelled: 'Strip her!'
"The men did his bidding, and nude, and shamed, I stood before that foul tyrant.
"'Bring her closer!' he yelled, and the big Soudanese lifted me bodily, and dropped me upon my feet on a mat not a yard from the Vizier.
"He glared at the tatooed cross upon my breast, then with a fearful curse, he spat full into my breast, the vileness running down the sacred sign. Then, as a fiendish look filled his face, he ordered the chief eunuch to send me for sale in any market that would be open for such carrion.
"At a word from the chief eunuch, the big Soudanese snatched me up in his brawny hands, tucked me under his arm, as a father might laughingly carry his five-year-old boy, and bore me off.
"The rest of the story is all too wonderful for more than the merest outline. I was being taken through the streets, veiled, of course, to a dealer in girls, when suddenly I saw my brother Hassan, coming towards me. My veil, of course, would prevent his knowing me, but tearing off my veil, I leaped towards him, crying:
"Hassan, Hassan, save me!"