The Circassian Slave | Page 5

it upon the Circassian's, and sealed it there with a kiss!--Another
removed the leather shoes she wore, and replaced them with satin ones
of curious workmanship and richly wrought with thread of gold, and
still another loosened the coarse mantle that enshrouded her shoulders,
and covered her with a shawl that had come across the desert from the
far east, rich in texture and beautiful as costly. And as another tossed a
handful of fresh flowers into her lap, the poor girl's cheeks became wet
with tears, for their unselfish kindness and generous tenderness had
touched heart.
But these tokens were quickly brushed away and kisses took their place,
while fair and delicate hands were busy upon her, until the poor slave
who had so lately stood exposed in the open bazaar of the capital, now
saw among this family of the Turkish monarch, literally as a star of the
harem. In beauty, she did indeed outshine them all, but they forgot this
in the memory of her misfortune, and envied not the dumb slave. They
touched her fingers with henna dye, and anointed her with rare and
costly perfumes, seeming to vie with each other in their interesting
efforts to deck and beautify one who had only the voluptuous softness
of her dark eyes to thank them with, for those lovely lips, of such
tempting freshness in their coral hue, could utter no sound.
They brought to her all their jewels and rich ornaments to amuse her,
and each one contributed to give her from out their store some
becoming ornament, now a diamond broach, and now a ruby ring, next
a necklace of emeralds, interspersed with glowing opals, a fourth added
a girdle of golden chain braced at every link by close and richly cut
garnets, and other rings of sapphire and amethysts, until the lovely
stranger was dazzling with the combined brilliancy and reflection of so
many rare and beautiful jewels about her person.
It was not the jewels that so gratified the young Circassian, but the
good will they represented. She cared little for them intrinsically,
beautiful and rich as they were, but she grew very fast to love the
donors.

Days passed on in this manner, and the Sultan was no less surprised
than delighted to witness this voluntary kindness and affection that was
so freely rendered to the lovely girl. Her affliction seemed to render her
sacred in his eyes, and there was no kindness on his part that was
forgotten. Her manners and intelligent bearing showed her to belong to
the better class of her own nation, and her gentle dignity commanded
respect as well as love. She had already come to a degree of
understanding with those about her that was sufficient as it regarded her
ordinary wishes and wants, but of the past or future she had not means
to communicate, her tongue was sealed, and for this reason her history
must remain a hidden mystery to those about her whom she loved, and
would gladly have confided in.
One occupation seemed to delight her above all else, it was so simple
and beautiful, besides which it enabled her to convey her feelings by
means of an agency that, as far as it went, supplied to her the loss of her
speech. It was the arranging of flowers so as to make them speak the
language of her heart to another, a means of communication in which
the women of the East excel. Indeed it is the only mode in which they
can hold silent converse, since they know not the cunning of the pen.
Engaged in this gentle and pleasing occupation, the Circassian passed
hours and days in the study and practice of the sweet language of
flowers.
For hours together, while she was thus occupied, the idiot boy would sit
and watch her movements, and now and then receive some kindly
token of consideration from her hand that seemed to delight him
beyond measure. He followed her every movement with his eye, and
seemed only content when close by her side, sitting near her, patient
and silent; in fact he could utter but few audible sounds, and no one had
ever taught the poor idiot how to talk.
One afternoon, in the gardens that opened from the harem, the
Circassian had been engaged thus, sitting beneath the projecting roof of
a lattice-work summer house. The sun as it crept down towards the
western horizon threw lengthened shadows across the soft green sward
where minaret, cypress, or projecting angle of the palace intervened.

The boy would pick out one of those dark shadows, and sitting down
where it terminated, seem to think that he could keep it there, but when
the shadow lengthened every moment more and more, and seemed to
his