The next day the Spanish slave was summoned to continue his narrative.
"Your sublime highness of course recollects where I left off yesterday
evening," commenced the slave.
"Perfectly well," replied the pacha, "you left off at the beginning of
your story; but I hope you will finish it this evening, as I have
already forgotten a great deal of what you said."
"Your highness may recollect that I was seated--"
"Yes, in our presence," interrupted the pacha; "such was our
condescension to a Giaour. Now go on with your story."
"With due submission to your highness, I was seated on a sofa, between
my mother Donna Celia and my mistress Donna Clara."
"Very true; I recollect now that you were."
"A hand clasped in the hand of each."
"Exactly," replied the pacha, impatiently.
"And was about to tell a story of my own invention, to deceive the old
lady my mother."
"Anna senna! curses on your mother!" cried the pacha, in an angry tone.
"Sit down and continue your story. Is a pacha nothing? Is the lion to
be chafed by a jackal? Wallah el Nebi! By God and the Prophet! do you
laugh at our beard? The story!"
"The story requested by your highness," replied the slave, with great
coolness, "was commenced in the following words."