he want
with an old woman like me? It's not for his harem, I presume."

At this remark the pacha and Mustapha could not help laughing: having
recovered his gravity, Mustapha observed, "One would imagine, old
carrion that thou art, that the idea of such a punishment as the
bastinado had never entered your mind."

"There you are mistaken, Mr Vizier, for I have suffered both the
bastinado and the bowstring."

"The bowstring! Holy Prophet! what a lying old hag!" exclaimed the
pacha.

"No lie, pacha, no lie!" screamed the old woman in her wrath. "I have
said it--and the bowstring. Yes, the time has been, when I was young
and beautiful; and do you know why I suffered? I'll tell you--because I
would not hold my tongue--and do you think that I will now, that I'm an
old piece of carrion? Yes--yes--the time has been."

"Fortunately, then," replied Mustapha, "you are not required by the
pacha to hold your tongue. You are required to do the very contrary,
which is, to speak."

"And do you know why I received the bowstring?" screamed the old hag.
"I'll tell you--because I would not speak; and I do not intend so to do
now, since I find that you wish that I should."

"Then it appears," said the pacha, taking the pipe out of his mouth,
"that the bastinado was as ill managed as the bowstring. We do these
things better at Cairo. Hear me, old mother of Shitan! I wish to know
what you mean by that expression which is ever in your mouth, `time has
been.'"

"It means a great deal, pacha, for it refers to my life--you want the
story."

"Exactly," replied Mustapha, "so begin."

"You must pay me for it--it is worth twenty pieces of gold."

"Do you presume to make conditions with his sublime highness the pacha?"
exclaimed Mustapha. "Why, thou mother of afrits and ghouls, if thou
commencest not immediately, thy carcass shall be thrown over the walls
for the wild dogs to smell at, and turn away from in disgust."

"Vizier, I have lived long enough to trust nobody. My price is twenty
pieces of gold counted out in this shrivelled hand before I begin; and
without they are paid down--not _one word_." And the old beldame folded
her arms, and looked the pacha boldly in the face.

"God is great!" exclaimed the pacha. "We shall see." At his well-known
signal the executioner made his appearance, and holding up the few
scattered grey hairs which still remained upon her head, he raised his
scimitar, awaiting the nod which was