The Circassian Slave | Page 2

place where were confined a whole bevy of
Nubian damsels, flat-nostriled and curly-headed, but as slight and
fine-limbed as blocks of polished ebony. They were lying negligently
about, in postures that would have taken a painter's eye, but we have
naught to do with then at this time.
The females that were now offered for sale were principally of the fair
and rosy-cheeked Circassian race, exposed to the curious eve of the
throng only so far as delicacy would sanction, yet leaving enough
visible to develope charms that fired the spirits of the Turkish crowd;
and the bids ran high on this sale of humanity, until at last a beautiful
creature, with a form of ravishing loveliness, large and lustrous eyes,
and every belonging that might go to make up a Venus, was led forth to
the auctioneer's stand. She was young and surpassingly handsome,
while her hearing evinced a degree of modesty that challenged their

highest admiration.
Of course the bidding was spirited and liberal for such a specimen of
her race; but suddenly the auctioneer paused, and declared that he had
forgotten to mention one matter which might, perhaps, be to some
purchasers even a favorable consideration, which was, that the slave
was deaf and dumb! The effects of this announcement were of course
various; on some it did have a favorable effect, inasmuch as it seemed
to add fresh interest to the undoubted charms she evinced, but other
shrank back disappointed that a creature of so much loveliness should
be even partially bereft of her faculties.
"Are you deaf and dumb?" asked an old Turk, approaching the
Circassian where she stood, as though he wished to satisfy himself as to
the truth of what the salesman had announced.
The slave lifted her eyes at his approach, and only shook her head in
signification that she could not speak, as she saw his lips move in the
utterance of some words, which she supposed addressed to her. The
splendid beauty of her eyes, and the general expression of her
countenance, seemed to act like magic on the Musselman, who, turning
to the auctioneer, bid five hundred piasters, a hundred advance on the
first offer.
At this moment a person wearing the uniform of the Turkish navy,
made his way towards the stand from the centre of the bazaar, where he
had for some minutes been intently regarding the scene, and bid
"Six hundred piasters."
"Seven," said the previous bidder.
"Eight," continued the naval officer.
"Eight fifty," responded the old Turk.
"Nine hundred," said the officer, with a promptness that attracted the
attention of the crowd.

"One thousand piasters," said his competitor, as he continued to regard
her exquisite and beautiful mould, and her features, so like a picture, in
their regular and artistic lines of beauty. It was very plain that the old
Turk felt, as he gazed upon her, so silent yet so beautiful, that she was
richly worth her weight in pearls.
"A thousand piasters," repeated the vender of the slave market, turning
once more to the officer, then added, as he received no encouraging
sign from him, "a thousands piasters, and sold!"
The officer regarded her with much interest, and turned away in evident
disappointment, for the old Turk who had outbid him, had gone beyond
any means that he possessed. The purchaser handed forth the money in
a couple of small bags, and throwing a close veil over the head of the
slave, led her away through the narrow and winding streets of old
Stamboul to the water's side, where they entered a caique that awaited
them, and pulled up the harbor.
Its shooting caiques, its forest of merchantmen, and its hoard of
Turkish war ships; were changed, in a few moments of swift pulling,
for the breathless solitude of the Valley of Sweet Waters, which opens
with a gentle curve from the Golden Horn, and winds away into the
hills towards Belgrade, where the river assumes the character of a
silvery stream, threading its way through a soft and verdant meadow on
either hand, as beautiful in aspect as the Prophet's Paradise. The spot
where the Sultan sends his swift-footed Arabians to graze on the
earliest verdure that decks the face of spring.
It was up this fairy-like passage that the dumb slave was swept in her
master's caique, and by scenes so beautiful as even to enchant her sad
and silent bosom. The Turk marked well the influence of the scenery
upon the Circassian, and slowly stroked his beard with silent
satisfaction at the sight.
The caique soon stopped before a gorgeous palace, in the midst of this
fine plain, and the Turk, by a signal, summoned the guard of eunuchs
from a tent of the Prophet's green, that was pitched near the banks