firelight.  Orion had remarked her before his journey, and fascinated by the beauty of the Persian girl, had wished to have her for his own.  Servants and officials, in unscrupulous collusion, had managed to transport her to a country-house belonging to the Mukaukas on the other side of the Nile, and there Orion had been able to visit her undisturbed as often as fancy prompted him.  The slave-girl, scarcely yet sixteen, ignorant and unprotected, had not dared nor desired to resist her master’s handsome son, and when Orion had set out for Constantinople—­heedless and weary already of the girl who had nothing to give him but her beauty—­Dame Neforis found out her connection with her son and ordered the head overseer to take care that the unhappy girl should not “ply her seductive arts” any more.  The man had carried out her instructions by condemning the fair Persian, according to an ancient custom, to have her ears cut off.  After this cruel punishment the mutilated beauty sank into a state of melancholy madness, and although the exorcists of the Church and other thaumaturgists had vainly endeavored to expel the demon of madness, she remained as before:  a gentle, good-humored creature, quiet and diligent at her work, under the women who had charge of her, and now in the common work-shop.  It was only when she was idle that her craziness became evident, and of this the other girls took advantage for their own amusement.

They now led Mandane to the fire, and with farcical reverence requested her to be seated on her throne—­an empty color cask, for she suffered under the strange permanent delusion that she was the wife of the Mukaukas George.  They laughingly did her homage, craved some favor or made enquiries as to her husband’s health and the state of her affairs.  Hitherto a decent instinct of reserve had kept these poor ignorant creatures from mentioning Orion’s name in her presence, but now a woolly-headed negress, a lean, spiteful hussy, went up to her, and said with a horrible grimace: 

“Oh, mistress, and where is your little son Orion?” The crazy girl did not seem startled by the question; she replied very gravely:  “I have married him to the emperor’s daughter at Constantinople.”

“Hey day!  A splendid match!” exclaimed the black girl.  “Did you know that the young lord was here again?  He has brought home his grand wife to you no doubt, and we shall see purple and crowns in these parts!”

These words brought a deep flush into the poor creature’s face.  She anxiously pressed her hands on the bandage that covered her ears and said:  “Really Has he really come home?”

“Only quite lately,” said another and more good-natured girl, to soothe her.

“Do not believe her!” cried the negress.  “And if you want to know the latest news of him:  Last night he was out boating on the Nile with the tall Syrian.  My brother, the boatman, was among the rowers; and he went on finely with the lady I can tell you, finely. . . .”