, I tuned it to my voice, and sang the following ode of Hafiz,
which I had learnt in my youth, when I used to charm my hearers in the
bath:--

What bliss is like to whisp'ring love, Or dalliance in the bowers of
spring? Why then delay my bliss t'improve? Haste, haste, my love, the
goblet bring.

Each hour that joy and mirth bestow Call it treasure, count it gain;
Fool is the man who seeks to know His pleasure will it end in pain!

The links which our existence bind Hang not by one weak thread alone; Of
man's distress why tease the mind? Sufficient 'tis, we know our own.

The double charms of love and wine Alike from one sweet source arise:
Are we to blame, shall we repine, When unconstrain'd the passions rise?

If innocent in heart and mind, I sin unconscious of offence What use, O
casuist, shall I find In absolution's recompense?

Hermits the flowing spring approve; Poets the sparkling bowl enjoy: And,
till he's judged by powers above, Hafiz will drink, and sing, and toy.

Zeenab was quite in ecstasy: she had never heard anything so delightful
in her life, and forgetting that both of us were but wretched
individuals--she a slave, I the most destitute of beings--we did and
felt as if all that surrounded us was our own, and that the wine and our
love would last for ever.

Having sang several more songs, and emptied several cups of wine, I
found that my poetry was exhausted as well as our bottle.

It was still quite early, and we had much time before us. 'Zeenab,' said
I, 'you have long promised to tell me the history of your life, and now
is a good opportunity; we are not likely to be interrupted for a long
while, and, as our meetings at night are very uncertain, an hour
cannot be better filled up than by the recital of your adventures.' She
assented to my proposal with much good humour, and began as follows.

CHAPTER XXVI

The history of Zeenab, the Curdish slave.

I am the daughter of a chief, well known in the Curdistan by the name of
Okous Aga. Who my mother was I do not precisely know. I have heard that
I am the produce of one of the secret meetings at Kerrund;[44] but as
such mysterious doings are hushed up among the Curds, I have never dared
to question anybody concerning them, and cannot, therefore, ascertain
whether the reports about my birth be true or not. It is very certain
that I never looked up to anyone as my mother; but was brought up at
hazard among our women, and that my earliest frie