ed off. The ride was only of a few streets; it seemed to me
quite a journey. On arriving, the worthy _papa_ was fortunately at home,
and by himself. He was delighted with my visit; and, after a small
altercation with his servant, succeeded in getting me some coffee and a
pipe. I admired the art with which I wound toward my query. The old
gentleman suspected nothing; but when I casually asked if he knew who it
was among his countrymen who sang like an angel, he quickly replied, "It
must be Silver-Voice, as she is called among the Moslem!"

I overturned my pipe on the mat in my eagerness to turn round and
listen. Excellent old man! instead of clapping his hands for the
servant, he went down upon his knees to collect the scattered tobacco,
and replace it in the bowl, and silenced my excuse with as mild an "It
is no matter, my son!" as ever passed the lips of one of our species. He
grew before my eyes in that humble posture; and when he returned to his
seat, seemed fifty times as venerable as before. The same spirit would
have led him to wash the feet of the poor.

He then told me the story of Silver-Voice and her sister:

"Many years ago, a Greek merchant was walking through the slave-market,
when he beheld for sale a little girl, so beautiful, and yet so sad,
that though he was on the way to conclude a bargain for fifty thousand
ardebs of beans, he could not prevail on himself to pass indifferently
on.

"'Of what country?' he inquired.

"'A Candiote,' replied the slave-dealer. She was from his own beloved
island.

"'How much?'

"'Five thousand piastres.'

"'I will pay the price.' The bargain was concluded on the spot. Another
merchant got the beans; but Kariades took home the Silver-Voice to his
house.

"The girl followed him silently, hanging down her head, and refusing to
answer the questions he put in his kind, bluff way. Some great sorrow
evidently weighed upon her, and she refused to be comforted. When,
however, Kariades presented her to his wife, and said, 'This shall be
our daughter,' the child opened her mouth and cried, 'Wherefore, oh
father, didst thou not come to the slave-market one short hour before?'
He asked her meaning, and she explained that her sister had been
separated from her, and sold to a Turk; 'and,' cried she, 'I will not
live unless Zoe be brought back to my side.' Kariades smiled as he
replied, 'I went forth, this day to buy beans, and I have come back with
a daughter. Must I needs g