The Circassian Slave | Page 4

as an infant
would char have done.
The idiot was an exemplification of a strange but universal superstition
among the Turks. With these eastern people there is a traditionary
belief in what is called the evil eye, answering to the evil spirit that is
accredited to exist by more civilized nations. Any human being bereft
of reason, or seriously deformed in any way, is held by them to be a
protection against the blight of the evil eye, which, being once cast
upon a person, renders him doomed forever. Holding, therefore, that
dwarfs, idiots or mad-men are partially inspired, every considerable
such establishment supports one or more, whose privilege it is to follow,
untrammeled, their own pleasure. The idiot boy, in the Sultan's palace,
was one of this class, whom no one thwarted, and who was regarded
with a half superstitious reverence by all.
While this scene had been transpiring between the idiot boy and the
slave, the Sultan had been talking with Mustapha concerning the latter.

It seemed by his story that she had been very ill since she was brought
from her native valley, and that she was hardly yet recovered from the
debility that had followed her sickness. She would not write nor read
one word of either the Turkish or Circassian tongue, and therefore
could only express herself by signs; for which reason, neither those
who sold her nor the purchaser knew aught of her history beyond the
fact that she was a Circassian, and also that she seemed to be less happy
than those of her countrywomen generally who come to Constantinople.
This might be owing to the affliction under which she labored as to
being dumb, but it was evident that Sultan Mahomet thought otherwise
as he gazed silently at her.
"She came not of her own free will from her native vales, Mustapha,"
said his master.
"No one knows, excellency, though her people generally come most
cheerfully to our harems."
"There is no means of understanding her save by signs?" asked the
Sultan.
"None, excellency."
"Take her to the harem, Mustapha," said his master, after a few
moments of thoughtful silence, "take her to the harem, and give strict
charge that she be well cared for."
"Excellency, yes," said the old Turk, with a profound reverence after
the manner of the East, "your wish is your slave's law," he continued,
as he turned away.
"And look you, good Mustapha," said the Sultan, recalling him once
more, "say it is our will that she be made as happy as may be."
"Excellency, yes," again repeated the old man with a salaam, and then
turning to the Circassian, he signed to her to follow him.
As the slave retired she could not but look back at the Sultan, who had

greeted her with such kind consideration, and as she did so she met his
dark, piercing eye bent upon her in gentle pity. She almost sighed to
leave the presence of one who had showed her the first kindness, the
first token of thoughtful consideration for her situation since she left
her own home, far away beyond the sea. But Mustapha beckoned her
forward, and she hastened to obey his summons, wondering as she
went what was to be her fate; whether that was to be her future home,
and what position she was to hold there. Musing thus, she followed the
Turk towards the sacred precincts of the harem.
The monarch left alone, save the thoughtless boy, who lay upon the
rich divan, coiled up like an animal gone to sleep, seemed to be
troubled in his mind. Stern and imperious by nature, it was not usual
for him to evince such feeling as had exercised him towards the dumb
slave, and it was plain that his heart was moved by feelings that were
novel there. Touching a silver gong that hung pendent from the wall,
just within reach of his arm, a Nubian slave opened the hangings of the
apartment, and appeared as though he had come out of the wall.
The slave knew well his master's summons, and preparing for him the
bowl of his pipe, and lighting it, coiled the silken tube to his hand, and
on his knee presented the amber mouthpiece.
Thus occupied, the Sultan was soon lost in the dreamy narcotic of the
tobacco.
CHAPTER II.
THE SULTAN'S HAREM.

The harem into which the dumb Circassian girl was conducted by the
woman to whom the old Turk delivered his message, was a place of
such luxuriant splendor as to puzzle her, and she stood like one amazed
for some moments.--The costly and grateful lounges, the heavy and
downy carpets, the rich velvet and silken hangings about the walls, the
picturesque and lovely groups of female slaves that laughed and