y to those worn by the great Alraschid: two
black slaves, with their swords, followed the pacha and his vizier at a
short distance. The streets were quite empty, and they met with nothing
living except here and there a dog preying on the garbage and offal, who
snapped and snarled as they passed by. The night promised nothing of
adventure, and the pacha was in no very good humour, when Mustapha
perceived a light through the chinks of a closed window in a small
hovel, and heard the sound of a voice. He peeped through, the pacha
standing by his side. After a few seconds the vizier made signs to the
pacha to look in. The pacha was obliged to strain his fat body to its
utmost altitude, standing on the tips of his toes to enable his eyes to
reach the cranny. The interior of the hovel was without furniture, a
chest in the centre of the mud floor appeared to serve as table and
repository of every thing in it, for the walls were bare. At the
fireplace, in which were a few embers, crouched an old woman, a
personification of age, poverty, and starvation. She was warming her
shrivelled hands over the embers, and occasionally passed one of her
hands along her bony arm, saying, "Yes, the time has been--the time has
been."

"What can she mean," said the pacha to Mustapha, "by the time has been?"

"It requires explanation," replied the vizier; "this is certain, that it
must mean something."

"Thou hast said well, Mustapha; let us knock, and obtain admittance."
Mustapha knocked at the door of the hovel.

"There's nothing to steal, so you may as well go," screamed the old
woman; "but," continued she, talking to herself, "the time has been--the
time has been."

The pacha desired Mustapha to knock louder. Mustapha applied the hilt
of his dagger, and thumped against the door.

"Ay--ay--you may venture to knock now, the sultan's slippers are not at
the door," said the old woman; "but," continued she, as before, "the
time has been--the time has been."

"Sultan's slippers! and time has been!" cried the pacha. "What does the
old hag mean? Knock again, Mustapha."

Mustapha reiterated his blows.

"Ay--knock--knock--my door is like my mouth; I open it when I choose,
and I keep it shut when I choose, as once was well known. The time has
been--the time has been."

"We have been a long time standing here, and I am tired of waiting; so,
Mustapha, I think the time is come to kick the door open. Let it be
done."

Whereupon Mu