The Circassian Slave | Page 7

a Turk;
in features he was markedly handsome, and his long, flowing beard
gave to him the appearance of more age than was rightfully his. His
physical developments were manly, and to look upon he was "every
inch a king." Lalla was no less beautiful as a female; indeed she was far
handsomer as it related to such a comparison, and those who saw them
so often together in the harem could not but think what a noble pair
they were, and seemingly worthy of each other.
She possessed all that soft delicacy of appearance that reminds the
sterner sex how frail and dependent is woman, while she bore in her
face that sweet and winning expression of intellect, that, in other climes
more favored by civilization, and where cultivation adds so much to the
charms of her sex, would alone have marked her as beautiful. Her eyes,
which were surpassing in their dreamy loveliness, were enhanced in
beauty by a languid plaintiveness that a realizing sense of her
misfortunes had imparted to the expression of her face, while her whole
manner bore that subdued and quiet air that sorrow ever imparts. Those
of her companions who knew her best, could easily understand that her
heart was far away from her present home; for her actions spoke this as
plainly as might have ever been done by words, and poor Lalla,
wherever she had come from, and under whatever circumstances, had
evidently left her heart behind her among her childhood's scenes.
The Sultan was earnestly interested in his dumb but beautiful slave, and
instituted a series of inquiries as to her history. His agents were
instructed to find out, if possible, the mode in which she had been
brought hither, and also to learn, if possible, the manner and cause of
her leaving her native hills in the Caucasus; for of these things the fair
girl had no means of communicating. The monarch and all
Constantinople knew that her people generally looked forward with joy
to the time when they should be old enough to be taken to the Turkish
capital, and seek their fortunes there, and the fact of this being so
different apparently with Lalla, created the more curiosity to ferret out
her story.

But all their efforts were useless in the pursuit of this purpose. Since
the Sultan's object in the inquiry was announced, much time had
transpired; but had his proclamation met the eye or ear of those who
transported the fair Circassian hither, they would hardly have
responded to it, as it might, for aught they knew, cost them their heads.
And thus the gentle slave lived on, a mystery to those about her which
even she was unable to solve.
"You made all inquiries at the bazaar, good Mustapha?" asked the
Sultan.
"Most rigid inquiries, excellency."
"And could learn nothing of the history of this beautiful slave?"
continued the Sultan.
"Nothing, excellency."
"It is very strange that no one can be found who knows aught about her.
Did you trace her back to those who sold her to the salesman of the
bazaar?"
"Yes, excellency, and two sales beyond that; but it seemed that
although so beautiful, the fact of her being dumb had caused her to be
very much undervalued, and she had passed through the hands of a
number of irresponsible slave merchants, who took but little heed of
her before she came to the bazaar."
"Doubtless, then, we may hardly expect to hear more concerning her."
"The reward you offered was munificent, excellency, but has brought
no response."
"You have not yet purchased for me those Georgians, good Mustapha,"
continued the monarch, after a few moments' pause, and probably
desiring to change a subject in which he felt that he was only too much
interested.

"Excellency, they are held at so high a price that I have refused to pay
it."
"Well, well, be discreet, and purchase shrewdly," said the Sultan,
resuming his pipe.
And in this manner the Sultan forgot his lovely slave, and removing the
mouth-piece of his pipe now and then, continued to question his slave
touching the matters that seemed to pertain to his department of the
household.
Poor Lalla! she had only her own unhappiness to brood upon as she sat
by some rippling fountain and watched its silvery jets and sparkling
drops, at times forgetting for a moment her sadness of heart in the
beauty that completely surrounded her; and then again, perhaps
mingling her tears with the fragrant blossoms that strewed her lap and
filled her hands. Alas! poor child! how it would have eased the quick
beating of thy heart if thou couldst have told the story of thy
unhappiness to some other confiding spirit.
The idiot boy would watch these tears, and at times