me, Komel, that you loved him, did you not?" he asked.

"I did."

"Can you see no reason now why he should not live, at least, in
Constantinople?"

"None."

"He had his choice, and was told that he might leave here in peace;
but he chose to stay and die."

"And for his devotion to me you have killed him?" continued Komel,
bitterly.

"Not for his devotion, but his stubbornness," said the Sultan.
"Come, Komel, smile once more. He is dead-time flies quickly on, and
he will soon be forgotten."

"Never!" replied the slave, with startling energy. "You will find
that a Circassian's heart is not so easily moulded in a Turkish
shape!"

The monarch bit his lip at the sarcasm of the remark, and as it, was
expressed with no lack of bitterness, it could not but cut him
keenly. Still preserving that calm self-possession which a full
consciousness of his power imparted, he smiled instead of frowning
upon her, and said:

"You are heated now; to-morrow, or perhaps the next day, you may
come to me, and I trust that you will then be in a better humor than
at present."

Komel bowed coldly at the intimation, while her expression told how
bitterly she felt towards him.

A dark frown came over the Sultan's face at the same moment, and an
accurate reader of physiognomy would have detected the fear
expressed there that his violent purpose, as executed upon Aphiz,
had failed totally of success.

Turning coldly away from him, the slave sought her own apartment in
the gorgeous palace, to mourn in silence and alone over the fearful
and bitter news she had just heard concerning one who was to her all
in all, and who had taken with him her heart to the spirit land. The
world, and all future time, looked to her like a blank, as though
overspread by one heavy cloud, that obliterated entirely and forever
the sight of that sun which had so long warmed her heart with its
genial rays. As we have already said, Komel lacked not for
tenderness of feeling. Her heart was gentle and susceptible; but
dashing now the tears from her eyes, she assumed a forced calmness,
and strove to reason with herself as she said, quietly, "We shall
meet again in heaven!" Humming some wild air of her native land, the
slave then tried to lose herself in some trifling occupation, that
she might partially forget her sorrows.

Her flowers were not forgotten, nor her pet pigeons unattended. She
wandered amid the fragrant divisions of the harem, and threw herself
d