No sooner did the dark and unpretending door of Sanda Pasha’s konak or palace open than Lancey’s eyes were dazzled by the blaze of light and splendour within, and when he had entered, accustomed though he was to “good society” in England, he was struck dumb with astonishment. Perhaps the powerful contrast between the outside and the interior of this Eastern abode had something to do with the influence on his mind.

 

Unbridled luxury met his eyes in whatever direction he turned. There was a double staircase of marble; a court paved with mosaic-work of brilliant little stones; splendid rooms, the walls of which were covered with velvet paper of rich pattern and colour. Gilding glittered everywhere—on cornices, furniture, and ceilings, from which the eyes turned with double zest to the soft light of marble sculpture judiciously disposed on staircase and in chambers. There were soft sofas that appeared to embrace you as you sank into them; pictures that charmed the senses; here a bath of snow-white marble, there gushing fountains and jets of limpid water that appeared to play hide-and-seek among green leaves and lovely flowers, and disappeared mysteriously,—in short, everything tasteful and beautiful that man could desire. Of course Lancey did not take all this in at once. Neither did he realise the fact that the numerous soft-moving and picturesque attendants, black and white, whom he saw, were a mere portion of an army of servants, numbering upwards of a thousand souls, whom this Pasha retained. These did not include the members of his harem. He had upwards of a hundred cooks and two hundred grooms and coachmen. This household, it is said, consumed, among other things, nearly 7000 pounds of vegetables a day, and in winter there were 900 fires kindled throughout the establishment. (See note 1.)

 

But of all this, and a great deal more, Lancey had but a faint glimmering as he was led through the various corridors and rooms towards a central part of the building.

 

Here he was shown into a small but comfortable apartment, very Eastern in its character, with a mother-of-pearl table in one corner bearing some slight refreshment, and a low couch at the further end.

 

“Eat,” said the black slave who conducted him. He spoke in English, and pointed to the table; “an’ sleep,” he added, pointing to the couch. “Sanda Pasha sees you de morrow.”

 

With that he left Lancey staring in a bewildered manner at the door through which he had passed.

 

“Sanda Pasha,” repeated the puzzled man slowly, “will see me ‘de morrow,’ will he? Well, if ‘de morrow’ ever comes, w’ich I doubt, Sanda Pasha will find ’e ’as made a most hegragious mistake of some sort. ’Owever that’s ’is business, not mine.”

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