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Marryat, Frederick, 1792-1848

"The Pacha of Many Tales"

He died about a year ago, and
left me in the hovel by myself. I still beg for my subsistence; and
now, pacha, you have my story, and I think you will acknowledge that I
may well say that _"Time has been."_
* * * * *
"It is your kismet, your destiny, good woman. There is but one God, and
Mahomet is his Prophet," observed the pacha. "You are dismissed."
"And the gold, your highness," whispered Mustapha.
"Let her retain it. Has she not been a sultana?" observed the pacha,
with some appearance of feeling.
The old woman's ears were keen, she had heard the question of Mustapha,
and she had heard the reply of the pacha; and she easily imagined the
rest.
"And now, pacha, before I quit your presence, as I have enjoyed your
bounty, I will, with your permission, offer you a piece of advice,
which, from my knowledge of the world and of people's countenances, may
be of no small service to you. Is it permitted, O pacha?"
"Speak," replied the pacha.
"Then, pacha, beware of that man who sits beside you; for there is that
in his face which tells me that he will raise himself upon your fall.
Pacha, beware!"
"Hag of Jehanum!" exclaimed Mustapha, rising from his seat.
The old woman held up her finger, and walked out of the divan.
The pacha looked suspiciously at Mustapha, for he was of a suspicious
nature; and Mustapha looked anything but innocent.
"Doth my lord give ear to a lying tongue of an old woman?" said
Mustapha, prostrating himself.


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