s Majesty is deeply grieved to hear of
the Khanum Effendi's illness."

"My gratitude is profound as the sea," said Laleli Khanum, but as she
spoke the viper smile wreathed and curled upon her seamed lips. "I thank
his Majesty. My time is come,--it is my kader, my fate. Allah alone can
save. None else can help me."

"Nevertheless, though it be in vain, I must try my arts, Khanum
Effendim," said Balsamides.

"What are your arts?" asked the sick woman, scornfully. "Can you burn me
with fire, and make a new Laleli out of the ashes of my bones?"

"No," said Gregorios, "I cannot do that, but I can ease your pain, and
perhaps you may recover."

"If you can ease my pain, you shall be rich. But you can not. Only Allah
is great!"

"If the Khanum will permit her servant to approach her and to touch her
hand"--suggested Balsamides, humbly.

"Gelinis, come," muttered Laleli. But she drew the pale green veil that
was round her throat a little higher, so as to cover her mouth. "What is
this vile body that it should be any longer withheld from the touch of
the unbeliever? What is your medicine, Giaour? Shall the touch of your
unbelieving hand, wherewith you daily make signs before images, heal the
sickness of her who is a daughter of the prophet of the Most High?"

Balsamides rose from his seat and came to her side. She shrank together
in her snuff-colored, bag-shaped gown, and hesitated before she would
put out her small hand, and her eyes expressed ineffable disgust. But at
last she held out her fingers, and Gregorios succeeded in getting at her
wrist. The pulse was very quick, and fluttered and sank at every fourth
or fifth beat.

"The Khanum is in great pain," said Gregorios. He saw indeed that she
was in a very weak state, and he fancied she could not last long.

"Ay, the pains of Gehennam are upon me," she answered in her hoarse
whisper, and at the same time she trembled violently, while the
perspiration broke out in a clammy moisture on her yellow forehead.

Gregorios produced a small case from his pocket. It is the magical
transformer of the modern physician.

"The prick of a pin," said he, "and your pain will cease. If the Khanum
will consent?"

She was in an access of terrible agony, and could not speak. Gregorios
took from his case a tiny syringe and a small bottle containing a
colorless liquid. It was the work of an instant to puncture the skin of
Laleli's hand, and to inject a small dose of morphine,--a ver