‘How much do you want for it?’ asked the Bassa.
‘Three hundred sequins,’ replied the unknown.
At these words the Bassa laughed contemptuously, and passed on without speaking.
‘You will not repent of your bargain,’ went on the woman. ‘Perhaps if we come back to-morrow you will be glad to give us the four hundred sequins we shall then ask. And the next day the price will be five hundred.’
‘Come away,’ said her companion, taking hold of her sleeve. ‘Do not let us stay here any longer. It may cry, and then our secret will be discovered.’ And so saying, the two young women disappeared.
The Jews were left in the front hall under the care of the slaves, and Neangir and Sumi followed the Bassa inside the house, which was magnificently furnished. At one end of a large, brilliantly-lighted room a lady of about thirty-five years old reclined on a couch, still beautiful in spite of the sad expression of her face.
‘Incomparable Zambac,’ said the Bassa, going up to her, ‘give me your thanks, for here is the lost son for whom you have shed so many tears,’ but before his mother could clasp him in her arms Neangir had flung himself at her feet.
‘Let the whole house rejoice with me,’ continued the Bassa, ‘and let my two sons Ibrahim and Hassan be told, that they may embrace their brother.’
‘Alas! my lord!’ said Zambac, ‘do you forget that this is the hour when Hassan weeps on his hand, and Ibrahim gathers up his coral beads?’
‘Let the command of the Prophet be obeyed,’ replied the Bassa; ‘then we will wait till the evening.’