"I have heard of it from one who is our friend."
"Indeed. Well, thou art right as to Omar, and it is that which makes me sad. Thou art right also in regard to Sidi Hassan, but I care little for him. He is but a tool in the hands of one whose power is great—Hamet, our Aga of cavalry. Omar I had hoped better things of; but fear him not. The Aga, however, is a dangerous foe, and unscrupulous. I do not clearly see my way to guard against his wiles. My chief safeguard is that he and Omar are bitter enemies. I know not what to do."
"The bowstring," suggested Ashweesha.
The reader must not think this suggestion inconsistent with the character of one whom we have described as gentle and sweet. The Sultana had been trained in a peculiar school, and was as much accustomed to hear of disagreeable and troublesome people being strangled as Europeans are to the drowning of inconvenient kittens.
The Dey laughed.
"Alas! my gentle one," he said, "all powerful and despotic though I be, there are a few officers around me whom I dare not get rid of in this way—at least not just now. But it amuses me to hear thee recommend such strong measures, thou who art always on the side of mercy."
"Truly," said Ashweesha, with a flash in her dark eyes that proved the presence of other elements
