The Berber-Bashi took him at his word. He ate and drank like one who has
gone hungry for three whole days, he was enchanted with the tambourine
of Musli, listened with open mouth to his story of the miserly slippers,
and laughed as heartily as if he had never heard it at least a hundred
times before.

"And now you tell us some tale, most beautiful of women!" said he,
wiping the tears from his eyes as he turned towards the damsel, and then
Gül-Bejáze, after first kissing her husband and sipping from the beaker
extended to her just enough to moisten her lips, thus began:

"Once upon a time there was a rich merchant. Where he lived I know not.
It might have been Pera, or Galata, or Damascus. Nor can I tell you his
name, but that has nothing to do with the story. This merchant had an
only daughter whom he loved most dearly. She had ne'er a wish that was
not instantly gratified, and he guarded her as the very apple of his
eye. Not even the breath of Heaven was allowed to blow upon her."

"And know you not what the name of the maiden was?" inquired the
Berber-Bashi.

"Certainly, they called her Irene, for she was a Greek girl."

Janaki trembled at the word. No doubt the girl was about to relate her
own story, for Irene was the very name she had received at her baptism.
It was very thoughtless of her to betray herself in the presence of a
stranger.

"One day," continued the maiden, "Irene went a-rowing on the sea with