for those I cared
not. The pastry was burnt, and I was resold to a barber, whose wife was
a shrew, and half-killed me; fortunately the barber was accused of
shaving a criminal, who had escaped from prison, and one morning was
stretched out before his own door, with his head under his arm. His wife
and I were both sold again as slaves.

Thus did I go down-hill each year, fetching less and less, and receiving
worse treatment, until I was embarked with several others by an
Armenian, who was bound to Smyrna. The vessel was captured by an
Algerine pirate, and for a long while I was kept on board to cook their
victuals. At last she was wrecked on this coast; how I escaped I know
not, for I was weary of life. But I was thrown up, and made my way to
this place--where I have for many years lived in company with an old
wretch like myself, supplicating alms. He died about a year ago, and
left me in the hovel by myself. I still beg for my subsistence; and
now, pacha, you have my story, and I think you will acknowledge that I
may well say that _"Time has been."_

* * * * *

"It is your kismet, your destiny, good woman. There is but one God, and
Mahomet is his Prophet," observed the pacha. "You are dismissed."

"And the gold, your highness," whispered Mustapha.

"Let her retain it. Has she not been a sultana?" observed the pacha,
with some appearance of feeling.

The old woman's ears were keen, she had heard the question of Mustapha,
and she had heard the reply of the pacha; and she easily imagined the
rest.

"And now, pacha, before I quit your presence, as I have enjoyed your
bounty, I will, with your permission, offer you a piece of advice,
which, from my knowledge of the world and of people's countenances, may
be of no small service to you. Is it permitted, O pacha?"

"Speak," replied the pacha.

"Then, pacha, beware of that man who sits beside you; for there is that
in his face which tells me that he will raise himself upon your fall.
Pacha, beware!"

"Hag of Jehanum!" exclaimed Mustapha, rising from his seat.

The old woman held up her finger, and walked out of the divan.

The pacha looked suspiciously at Mustapha, for he was of a suspicious
nature; and Mustapha looked anything but innocent.

"Doth my lord give ear to a lying tongue of an old woman?" said
Mustapha, prostrating himself. "Hath not your slave proved himself
faithful? Am not I as dust in thy presence? Take my life, O pa