approaching the lovely Circassian, actuated by the interest that he
felt at so singular an announcement.

While the old Turk stroked his beard with an air of satisfaction at
the result of his purchase as it regarded the approval of his
master, the slave bent humbly before the monarch, for though she
knew not by any word or sign addressed to her who her master was,
yet she felt that no one could assume that air of dignity and
command but the Sultan. A blush stole over the pale face of the
Circassian as the monarch laid his hand on her arm and gazed
intently upon her face, and whatever his inward thoughts were, his
handsome countenance expressed a spirit of tenderness and gentle
concern for her situation that became him well, for clemency is the
brightest jewel in a crown.

"Deaf and dumb," repeated the Sultan against to himself, "and yet so
very beautiful."

"She is beautiful, indeed, excellency," said the old Turk, echoing
his master's thoughts.

"So they sought her eagerly at the market, good Mustapha, did they
not?"

"Excellency, yes. One of your own officers bid against me heavily;
he wore the marine uniform."

"Ha! did the fellow know you?" asked the Sultan, quickly, with a
flashing eye that showed how capable that face was of a far
different expression from that which the dumb slave had given rise