striking contrast with this rich attire were the features of the Turk,
which were singularly repulsive. A low forehead receded from above a
pair of bluish-grey eyes, in the glazed, hard look of which, perfidy,
cruelty, and pride seemed to have taken up their abode. From between the
eyes protruded a long nose, curved like that of a bird of prey, over an
upper lip indicative of gluttony and the coarsest animal propensities;
the mouth was large, the lower lip hung relaxed and slavering over a
long square chin. The complexion was in good keeping with the false and
malignant expression of the countenance, being of an indefinite tint,
that could be classed under no particular colour.

"_Por el amor de Dios!_" cried the young noblemen, now really alarmed.
"What is this? What does it mean?" And they hesitatingly approached the
ottoman, and then again shrunk back, as if scared by some loathsome and
unnatural object.

Beside the figure two other Moslems were kneeling, one in a green, the
other in a snow-white turban. Their hands were folded upon their
breasts, and their faces bowed till they almost touched the carpet.

"Brr!" growled the Moslem in a tone more like the grunt of a wild boar
than the voice of a human being, and stretching himself peevishly out
upon the ottoman. His kneeling attendants started, rose respectfully to
their feet, and taking a step backwards, began conversing in a subdued
tone, and without appearing aware of the presence of the Mexicans, who
on their part were so bewildered by this strange scene that they seemed
to have lost the power of speech and movement.

"Zil ullah!" exclaimed he of the white turban. "Allah be with us! His
sublimity has again spoken! Spoken, but how little!" added he in a
disconsolate tone. "Right willingly would Ben Haddi commence this very
day a barefooted pilgrimage"----

"And Bultshere," interrupted the other, "would kiss the black stone of
Ararat"----

"If," resumed the first speaker, "his sublimity might be thereby healed
of his malady. Zil ullah! 'Tis three days since his highness tasted of
the bean of Mocha, or of the glorious juice that transports the true
believer, while yet living, into the realms of Paradise."

"Three days," continued his companion, "since he deigned to permit the
soft caresses of the beauteous Zuleima, or the ardent embraces of the
dark-eyed Fatima. What can be the cause?"

"Indigestion," quoth Green-turban.

"Cares of state," rejoined White-