slave bathed and anointed and dressed her with the utmost
care and great self-importance, and sent the underslaves flying in
all directions, one to gather syringa, and other heavy-scented
blossoms from the garden, and another to fetch the jewels for her
neck; and as the attar of rose bottle was found to be empty, a
slave was sent with flying feet to the bazaar to purchase more; and
Dilama, excited and elated, surrounded by jest and laughter and
smiling faces, felt her youth leap up within her, and rejoice at
coming into its kingdom--love.

In the bazaar the slave sped to the perfume-seller, and, swelling
with the importance of his mission, stayed a moment to chatter with
the dealer.

"They are dressing a new bride for my master, and I must hasten
back," he gossiped, lounging on the merchant's little stall. "Ahmed
Ali awaits her in the Selamlik; I must be going. They say her
beauty is wonderful; she is not a Turk, but a Syrian from the
mountains by Beirut. I must hasten: they will be waiting."

"Yes, hasten on your way," returned the perfume-seller. He was a
Turk, dignified and gracious, and of no mind to listen to gossip
from the harem, of which it was little short of scandalous to speak
so publicly. He had other customers in his shop who could hear,
amongst them a black-browed Druze in a green turban, who was
waiting patiently his turn, and who seemed to listen intently to
this most improper gossip. The slave disappeared with flying feet
to catch up his wasted moments, but when the Turk turned to serve
the silent Druze, he, too, had vanished, and some white-turbaned
Arabs pressed forward in his place.

* * * * *

Dilama in her lighted chamber, with her fresh young eyes a little
painted beneath their lids, and heavy gold chains about her soft
young throat, sat looking into the little French mirror of cheap
glass and gilt, and waiting for the attar of rose to be poured on
her shining hair.

At last the boy returned breathless, and the precious stuff was
poured on her hair and hands. Then she stood up radiant and the
women sighed and smiled by turns as she went out, preceded by the
old slave. A long narrow passage, lighted overhead by swinging
coloured lamps, divided the women's from the men's apartments, and
through this they passed noiselessly over the matting-covered
floor. At the end fell heavy curtains, concealing the door and some
steps. Here the slave left the girl, and Dila