It was not the act of a wise man to pick up a flower
which the Sultan had thrown away in order to inhale its fragrance.
The public crier remained in the middle of the bazaar alone with the
slave-girl; the chapmen had not only retired into their shops but barred
the doors behind them. "Much obliged to you; but we would not accept
such a piece of good luck even as a gift," they seemed to say.
Only one man still remained in front of his shop, and that was Halil
Patrona. He alone had the courage to scrutinise the slave-girl
carefully.
Perchance he felt compassion for this slave. He could not but perceive
how the poor thing was trembling beneath the veil which covered her to
the very heels. Nothing could be seen of her but her eyes, and in those
eyes a tear was visible.
"Come! bring her into my shop!" said Halil to the public crier; "don't
leave her out in the public square there for everybody to stare at her."
"Impossible!" replied the public crier. "As I value my head I must obey
my orders, and my orders are to take her veil from off her head in the
auction-yard, where the ordinary slaves are wont to be offered for sale,
and there announce the price set upon her in the sight and hearing of
all men."
"What crime has this slave-girl committed that she should be treated so
scurvily?"
"Halil Patrona!" answered the public crier, "it will be all the better
for my tongue and your ears if I do not answer that question. I simply
do what I have been told to do.
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