ened
impatiently to her long address, "or I will give thee less of my company
than heretofore. See that the next time I visit thee my reception may be
with smiles instead of tears--with sweet words instead of reproaches."
And in this cruel manner the heartless renegade quitted his beauteous
wife, leaving her plunged in the most profound affliction.

But as Ibrahim traversed the corridors leading to his own apartments,
his heart smote him for the harshness and unfeeling nature of his
conduct; and as one disagreeable idea, by disposing the spirits to
melancholy, usually arouses others that were previously slumbering in
the cells of the brain, all the turpitude of his apostasy was recalled
with new force to his mind.

Repairing to a small but magnificently furnished saloon in a retired
part of the palace, he dismissed the slaves who were waiting at the
door, ordering them, however, to send into his presence a young Greek
page who had recently entered his service. In a few minutes the youth
made his appearance, and stood in a respectful attitude near the door.

"Come and sit at my feet, Constantine," said the grand vizier, "and thou
shalt sing to me one of those airs of thy native Greece with which thou
hast occasionally delighted mine ears. I know not how it is, boy--but
thy presence pleases me, and thy voice soothes my soul, when oppressed
with the cares of my high office."

Joy flashed from the bright black eyes of the young Greek page as he
glided noiselessly over the thick carpet, but that emotion of pleasure
was instantly changed to one of deep deference.

"Proceed," said his master, "and sing me that plaintive song which is
supposed to depict the woes of one of the unhappy sons of Greece."

"But may not its sentiments offend your highness?" asked the page.

"It is but a song," responded Ibrahim. "I give thee full permission to
sing those verses, and I should be sorry were you to subdue aught of the
impassioned feelings which they are well calculated to excite within
thee."

The page turned his handsome countenance up toward the grand vizier, and
commenced in melodious, liquid tones, the following song--

SONG OF THE GREEK PAGE.

"Oh, are there not beings condemned from their birth,
To drag, without solace or hope o'er the earth,
The burden of grief and of sorrow?
Doomed wretches who know, while they tremblingly say,
'The star of my fate appears brighter to-day,'
That it is