pared to your sublime highness in
wisdom?" replied Mustapha. "What are the words of Hafiz--`Every moment
that you enjoy, count it gain. Who shall say what will be the event of
any thing?'"

The slave, who had been detained by the orders of Mustapha, was ordered
to appear. During his confinement, Mustapha had been informed by his
people that he was "visited by Alla;" or in other words, that he was a
madman. Nevertheless, Mustapha--who was afraid to release a man (or
rather, a story) without the consent of the pacha, and could not send
for the renegade to supply any defalcation--considered that, upon the
whole, it was better that he should be admitted to the presence of the
pacha.

"You asked me to hear your story," observed the pacha, "and I have
consented,--not to please you, but to please myself, because I am fond
of a good story: which I take it for granted yours will be, or you would
not have presumed to make the request. Now you may go on."

"Pacha," replied the slave, who had seated himself in a corner, working
his body backward and forward, "it is the misfortune of those who not
aware--of the excitement which--as I before stated to your highness
exceeds in altitude the lofty and snow-covered peak of Hebrus--and,
nevertheless, cannot be worth more than four or five paras--"

"Holy Prophet! what is all this?" interrupted the pacha; "I cannot
understand a word that you say. Do you laugh at our beard? Speak more
intelligibly. Remember!"

"I remember it as if it were now," continued the maniac, "although years
have rolled away. Never will it be effaced from my recollection while
this heart, broken as it is, continues to beat, or this brain may be
permitted to burn. The sun had just disappeared behind the rugged
summits of the mountain which sheltered my abode from the unkind
north-east wind: the leaves of the vines that hung in festoons on the
trellis before my cottage, which, but a minute before, pierced by his
glorious rays, had appeared so brilliant and transparent, had now
assumed a browner shade, and, as far as the eye could reach, a thin blue
vapour was descending the ravine: the distant sea had changed its
intense blue for a sombre grey, while the surf rolled sullenly to the
beach, as if in discontent that it could no longer reflect the colours
of the prism as before, when it seemed to dance, with joy under the
brilliant illumination of the god of day--"

"Poof!" ejaculated the pacha, fanning hi