y, that I was surprised at the manner of her telling it;
there was not a circumstance of it left out.

I was now under a new perplexity, for this young slut gave so complete
an account of everything in the dress, that my friend the Quaker
coloured at it, and looked two or three times at me, to see if I did not
do so too; for (as she told me afterwards) she immediately perceived it
was the same dress that she had seen me have on, as I have said before.
However, as she saw I took no notice of it, she kept her thought private
to herself; and I did so too, as well as I could.

I put in two or three times, that she had a good memory, that could be
so particular in every part of such a thing.

"Oh, madam!" says she, "we that were servants, stood by ourselves in a
corner, but so as we could see more than some strangers; besides," says
she, "it was all our conversation for several days in the family, and
what one did not observe another did." "Why," says I to her, "this was
no Persian dress; only, I suppose your lady was some French comedian,
that is to say, a stage Amazon, that put on a counterfeit dress to
please the company, such as they used in the play of Tamerlane at Paris,
or some such."

"No, indeed, madam," says she, "I assure you my lady was no actress; she
was a fine modest lady, fit to be a princess; everybody said if she was
a mistress, she was fit to be a mistress to none but the king; and they
talked her up for the king as if it had really been so. Besides, madam,"
says she, "my lady danced a Turkish dance; all the lords and gentry said
it was so; and one of them swore he had seen it danced in Turkey
himself, so that it could not come from the theatre at Paris; and then
the name Roxana," says she, "was a Turkish name."

"Well," said I, "but that was not your lady's name, I suppose?"

"No, no, madam," said she, "I know that. I know my lady's name and
family very well; Roxana was not her name, that's true, indeed."

Here she run me aground again, for I durst not ask her what was Roxana's
real name, lest she had really dealt with the devil, and had boldly
given my own name in for answer; so that I was still more and more
afraid that the girl had really gotten the secret somewhere or other;
though I could not imagine neither how that could be.

In a word, I was sick of the discourse, and endeavoured many ways to put
an end to it, but it was impossible; for the captain's wife, who called
her sister, prompted h