of his wives were really missing. And if he had several homes, as rich Turks often have, would he be at the address I gave, or would he be with another wife at another house, or possibly not even in the town?
My thoughts were far from pleasant. I sat on my stool praying to my Maker as I have never done before or since. I thought that after this experience I should become a very wise and careful woman. Alas!
The night grew older, and the greyish light gradually pierced the darkness, as I disconsolately wondered what would happen to me.
There were steps outside, the key turned, and Arif Pasha entered the room, and shut the door behind him.
My father used to say: "Don't be humble with the Turks. Ask them what you want, and ask it as your right."
"Please be seated, Arif Pasha," I said, "and I will tell you all about it."
"And, pray, who are you?" he asked.
"I will tell you that also," I answered, with as confident a manner as I was able to assume.
He drew up a stool and sat down opposite me. Then I told him the whole adventure, adding that I had sent for him to get me out of the scrape.
When I had finished, he threw back his head and laughed heartily. "So you are my wife, are you?" he exclaimed.
