I had only one trouble in my new home, and that was the cruelty and the fear I felt of my little mistress's brother, Mourad-bey. It seemed as though, for some inexplicable reason, he hated me; and he took every opportunity of teasing me, and was only satisfied when I took refuge at his sister's feet and burst into tears.
In spite of all this I liked Mourad-bey. He was six years older than I, and was so strong and handsome that I could not help forgiving him; and, indeed, I just worshipped him.
When Adilé-Hanoum was fourteen her parents engaged her to a young Bey who lived at Salonica, and whom she would not see until the eve of her marriage. This Turkish custom of marrying a perfect stranger seemed to me terrible, and I spoke of it to my young mistress.
She replied in a resigned tone: "Why should we trouble ourselves about a future which Allah has arranged? Each star is safe in the firmament, no matter in what place it is."
One evening I was walking up and down on the closed balcony outside the haremlik. I was feeling very sad and lonely, when suddenly I heard steps behind me, and by the beating of my heart I knew that it was Mourad-bey.
"Féliknaz," he said, seizing me by the arm, "what are you doing here, all alone?"
"I was thinking of my country, Bey-Effendi. In our Circassia all men are equal, just like the ears of corn in a field."
"Look up at me again like that, Féliknaz; your eyes are gloomy and troubled, like the Bosphorus on a stormy day."
"It is because my heart is like that," I said, sadly.