about the embroidery, and a glassy sheen in the jewels, which, added to the humorous and undignified cast of his countenance, bespoke him one of low degree. He was the Dey's story-teller, and filled much the same office at the palace that was held by court jesters in the olden time. The presence of some such individual in Achmet's court, even in the first quarter of the present century, was rendered necessary by the fact that the Dey himself had risen from the ranks, and was an illiterate man.
Advancing towards his master with a freedom that no other domestic of the palace would have dared to assume, he, with affected solemnity, demanded an audience.
"I cannot refuse it, Hadji Baba, seeing that thou dost swagger into my presence unbidden," said Achmet, with a smile, as he sat down in the usual oriental fashion—cross-legged on a low couch—and patted the head of the noble animal which he had chosen as his companion, and which appeared to regard him with the affection of a dog—"What may be your news?"
"I have no news," replied Baba, with humility. "News cannot be conveyed to one who knows all things, by one who is a dog and knows nothing."
"Thou knowest at all events how to look well after that which concerns thyself," replied the Dey "What hast thou to say to me?"
