"My husband is very fond of yours," said Ashweesha, with a pleasant smile, leading her guests to a large cushion on the floor, and squatting them down beside her.

"It gratifies me much to hear you say so," replied Mrs Langley.

They spoke in a jargon of languages, and made up their deficiencies by signs, of which we dare not attempt a characteristic translation.

"He sent you a new slave-girl lately, I believe?" said the Sultana, beginning to feel her way.

"Yes," exclaimed the guest with animation, "it was _very_ kind of him; and I find her _so_ sweet and amiable, and useful too. She a.s.sists me with my dear baby so admirably, as well as with the household, that I begin already to feel as if I could not get on without her. Do you know I have set my heart on raising sufficient money to ransom her and set her free?"

"Then you will only lose her, for she will certainly go home to her husband," observed Ashweesha, with a look of simplicity.

"Of course; I count on that," returned Mrs Langley. "You know that we Christians differ from Mohammedans widely on the point of slavery; and I am sure," she added playfully, "you will not think me rude when I say that I mean to take advantage of your laws, and procure the ransom of as many slaves as possible during my residence here."

"If you had the wealth of a king," said Ashweesha, with a smile, "you could not ransom the half of them, they are so numerous."

"I am too well aware of that," rejoined the other sadly; "nevertheless, that does not exempt me from my duty. In the laws of my heavenly King and Saviour Jesus Christ it is written--`Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.'"

The Sultana bent a keen look of interest on her guest, and was about to reply, but seemed to change her mind, and said:--

"It was Sidi Ha.s.san, I am told, who brought in this slave-girl; and, by the way, I hear that he has become your janissary. Do you like him?"

"I have seen so little of him that I can hardly tell.--You have walked with him in the garden, Agnes, several times; what do _you_ think of him?"

"I don't like him at _all_!" answered Agnes, with powerful emphasis.

Both ladies laughed, and so did the six little daughters of the Sultana, who had maintained a dignified silence while their elders were conversing.

"My little girl is rather given to take hasty prejudices," said Mrs Langley apologetically.

"Does your husband find him useful?" continued the Sultana, returning to the charge.

"No doubt he does, but I really cannot say, for my husband has only mentioned him casually, and I never venture to speak of his business affairs unless called on to do so. The fact that Sidi Ha.s.san has been much oftener in town than at our residence since he was sent to us, may account for my slight knowledge about him."

"Oh! he has been very often in town, has he?" exclaimed Ashweesha.

Before Mrs Langley could reply, an attendant announced that dinner was served in the adjoining room, whereupon the Georgian slaves were ordered to pick up the jewels that strewed the carpet. This they did, and, having locked them in the gla.s.s cabinet before mentioned, followed the party into the dining-room.

It was a somewhat peculiar dinner in many respects. There was great variety. Meat, poultry, pastry, and sweatmeats of strange kinds and forms, succeeded each other, and were done full justice to by all present. It was like a glimpse of paradise to little Agnes; for, having been brought up in the simplest of styles, and forbidden pastry and sweatmeats altogether since the day of her birth, she absolutely revelled in new sensations.

It must not be supposed that she violently broke through all restraints on this occasion; but her mother saw that if old rules were enforced, the child would be confused by the conflicting entreaties of her hostesses and the denials of her mother, while the Sultana might be offended. Mrs Langley, therefore, gave her _carte-blanche_ to eat what she pleased.

The party all sat on embroidered cushions on the floor, round a small low table made of silver and mother-of-pearl. On this, each dish was placed separately; and all ate out of the same dish, after the Moorish fashion. The spoons were made of rosewood, tipped with amber, and the napkins were richly embroidered in gold, silver, and variously coloured silk on a curiously-wrought linen ground. All the vessels used were of the most elaborate and costly description, and we need scarcely add that the viands were good. Among other things there was fish, which was served and eaten with honey! but the chief among the dishes was kooskoos. This was the _piece de resistance_ of the Moorish dinner-table, the substance on which the ladies chiefly fed and flourished. To be fat was, in those days, the most desirable attribute of a wife in the eyes of an Algerine husband, therefore kooskoos was eaten in quant.i.ty. It was made largely of flour, rolled, in some mystical manner, into the form of little pellets, like small sago; this, boiled with b.u.t.ter and other fatty substances, with bits of meat and chicken, and other viands mixed through it,--the whole being slightly seasoned and spiced,--was deemed food fit for a Sultana.

During the meal they became very chatty, and the young people paid much attention to Agnes, who, being a sensitively good girl, felt, every time that she experienced a new taste, as though she were breaking all the Ten Commandments, notwithstanding the permission of her mother!

Several times Ashweesha turned the conversation on the home affairs of her guests, and attempted to gain further information about Sidi Ha.s.san's doings, but found, much to her annoyance, that Mrs Langley knew little more than she had already communicated. Her good-humour was, however, restored by that lady's unaffected admiration of the numerous lovely things by which she was surrounded. She specially praised the splendid napkins and the spoons before referred to, and when they rose from table, the Sultana presented her and Agnes with those that they had used.

After giving them coffee and making another vain attempt to extract information, Ashweesha dismissed her guests, who returned home charmed with the novelty of their reception and entertainment.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

RELATES SOMETHING ABOUT IMPROVEMENTS, SURPRISES, AND CHANGES IN THE STATE OF AFFAIRS.

In consequence of the opportune interference of the British consul, and of the good-will which Lucien had inspired in the breast of the Dey, a ray of light stole into the gloomy Bagnio, and tended to cheer at least two of the slaves.

This ray was conveyed by means of the Padre Giovanni, whom we have elsewhere mentioned as being the friend and benefactor of the slaves.

Previous to his visit a cloud had overshadowed the prison. Several chaouses had entered, and, after loading Castello and the other runaways with chains, had led them forth to death. It would be painful as well as unnecessary to detail the terrible tortures under which these wretched men perished. The remaining slaves knew well the nature of the fate that awaited them, and the blank caused by the disappearance for ever of their well-known faces, was fitted to restrain all thoughts of rebellion, had such existed. Some surprise was felt at first by all the slaves at the delay of punishment in the case of Francisco and Mariano, but after the first hour or two had pa.s.sed, they ceased to give the matter a thought.

When, therefore, the old man Giovanni entered the Bagnio and informed these two that the Dey had reprieved them, and commanded their attendance at the palace, their surprise was re-awakened, and speculation as to the cause of such unusual proceedings was revived.

"I am the bearer of still further tidings," said the old man, taking a letter from a sort of wallet that hung from his shoulder, and handing it to Francisco.

"From Juliet!" exclaimed Francisco, tearing it open and reading aloud eagerly:--

"`Dearest Father,--It is not possible to express to you the agony that we endured on hearing that you had been taken captive by the Algerines. Oh, why are such monsters allowed to live? ("Why, indeed!" interjected Francisco, bitterly.) But take comfort. G.o.d watches over us all. Some of your old friends here have begun to collect money for your ransom, and I work hard to increase the sum-- but oh! how slowly it grows! Even darling grandmamma has got some light sewing work which brings in a little. But our hearts mourn because of you. We earnestly hope that the pirates treat you well, ("Thank G.o.d they do not know anything about _that_," muttered Francisco), and we feel almost sure that they do, because we have been told that they are careful of the slaves who, they hope, will be ransomed. I have therefore written to the Dey--how I hated him while I wrote the humble letter!--telling him that we hoped to raise the sum in a short time. Every one here is very kind and sympathises with us, besides giving a contribution to the fund.

"`This letter goes by a French vessel which is to touch at Algiers, and which conveys a priest who has a large sum of money with him to ransom Sicilian and other slaves. I entreated him to ransom you with part of it, but he smiled pitifully, and said the money had been raised by the friends of particular slaves, some of whom had been many years in captivity, and that it could not be diverted from its proper objects. How my heart sank when he spoke of some being in slavery for many years! But it was cheered again when I reflected how hard we are all working to raise the money for you and Lucien and Mariano. We send you all our dear love.--Your affectionate daughter.

"Shall I have an opportunity of answering this?" asked Francisco, eagerly.

"Yes; I am about to conduct you to the palace, where your son Lucien-- who, I may mention, is a favourite--awaits you."

"You mustn't let them know the truth, father," said Mariano earnestly.

"Would you have him tell them what is false?" asked the Padre gravely.

"No, no," replied the youth, with a laugh, "but there is no occasion to mention all that we have suffered, you know; and there is a good deal--I mean a little--that is agreeable to communicate. For instance, this very summons to the palace, and Lucien's good luck."

"Trust me, lad," said Francisco; "I won't fail to cheer them if I can, and you may be sure I won't exaggerate our misfortunes.--But lead on, old man; I am anxious to get out of this foul den as quickly as--"

"Forgive me, comrades," he added, checking himself, and turning to the slaves near him; "I am grieved more than I can tell to leave you behind.

If by remaining I could lighten your sorrows, I would gladly do so. It may seem presumptuous in one who is himself a slave to say so, yet I can't help a.s.suring you that if the Almighty is pleased to give me any power in this city, I won't forget you."

This speech was received with a kindly nod by some, and a laugh of scorn by others.

Probably the latter had heard similar sentiments before from somewhat kindred and hearty spirits, and had learned from sad experience that nothing ever came of their good-will.

Following the old man, the father and son were soon in the presence of Lucien, who received them, as may well be believed, with a full heart.

"G.o.d bless you, my son," said Francisco, "for well a.s.sured am I that it is through your influence that we are here."

"It is through the influence of the British consul," replied Lucien.

"Well, I pray for a blessing on you both, for it is useless to tell me that _you_ have had no hand in it."

"I do not say that I had no hand in it. On the contrary, I wrote out the order for your acquittal; and," added Lucien, with a peculiar smile, "I also had previously written out your and Mariano's death-warrant!"