ry 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 easily imagined the rest; and she had heard the reply of the
pacha.

"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 any thing 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 pacha! but
doubt not the fidelity of thy slave."

The pacha seemed pacified. "What is all this but bosh, nothing?" said
he, rising and quitting the apartment.

"Bosh!" muttered Mustapha. "The cursed old hag! I know better--there
is no time to lose--I must be quick. When will that renegade return
from Stamboul? it is time." And Mustapha, with a gloomy countenance,
quitted the divan.

VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER SEVEN.

Although the pacha, with the usual diplomacy of a Turk, had, so far from
expressing his displeasure against Mustapha, treated him with more than
usual urbanity, he had not forgotten the advice of the old woman.
Suspicion once rais