I was sold in Circassia when I was only six years old. My uncle,
Hamdi-bey, who had inherited nothing from his dying brother but two
children, soon got rid of us both. My brother Ali was handed over to
some dervishes at the Mosque of Yéni-Chéïr, and I was sent to
Constantinople.
The slave-dealer to whom I was taken was a woman who knew nothing of our
language, so that I was obliged to learn Turkish in order to understand
my new mistress. Numbers of customers came to her, and every day one or
other of my companion slaves went away with their new owners.
Alas! my lot seemed terrible to me. I was nothing but a slave, and as
such I had to humble myself to the dust in the presence of my mistress,
who brought us up to be able to listen with the most immovable
expression on our faces, and with smiles on our lips, to all the good
qualities or faults that her customers found in us.
The first time that I was taken to the _sélamlik_ (reception-room) I was
ten years old. I was considered very pretty, and my mistress had bought
me a costume of pink cotton, covered with a floral design; she had had
my nails tinted and my hair plaited, and expected to get a very good
price for me. I had been taught to dance, to curtesy humbly to the men
and to kiss the ladies' _féradje_ (cloaks), to hand the coffee (whilst
kneeling) to the visitors, or stand by the door with my arms folded
ready to answer the first summons. These were certainly not very great
accomplishments, but for a child of my age they were considered enough,
especially as, added to all that, I had a very white skin, a slender,
graceful figure, black eyes and beautiful teeth.
I felt very much agitated on finding myself amongst all the other slaves
who were waiting for purchasers. Most of them were poor girls who had
been brought there to be exchanged. They had been sent away from one
harem, and would probably have to go to some other. My heart was filled
with a vague kind of dread of I knew not what, when suddenly my eyes
rested on three hideous negroes, who had come there to buy some slaves
for the harem of their Pasha. They were all three leaning back on the
sofa discussing the merits and defects of the various girls standing
around them.
"Her eyes are too near together," said one of them.
"That one looks ill."
"This tall one is so round-backed."
I shivered on hearing these remarks, whilst the poor girls themselves
blushed with shame or turned livid with anger.
"Come here, Féliknaz," called out my mistress, for I was hiding behind
my companions. I went forward with lowered eyes, but my heart was
beating wildly with indignation and fear. As soon as the negroes caught
sight of me they said something in Arabic and laughed, and this was not
lost on my mistress.
[Illustration: "THREE HIDEOUS NEGROES."]
"Where does this one come from?" asked one of them, after examining me
attentively.
"She is a Circassian. She has cost me a lot of money, for I bought her
four years ago and have been bringing her up carefully. She is very
intelligent and will be very pretty. _Bir elmay_ (quite a diamond)," she
added, in a whisper. "Féliknaz, dance for us, and show us how graceful
you can be."
I drew back, blushing, and murmured, "There is no music for me to dance
to."
"That doesn't matter at all. I'll sing something for you. Come, commence
at once!"
I bowed silently and went back to the end of the room, and then came
forward again dancing, bowing to the right and left on my way, whilst my
mistress beat time on an old drum and sang the air of the _yassédi_
dance in a hoarse voice. In spite of my pride and my terror, my dancing
appeared to please these men.
"We will certainly buy Féliknaz," said one of them; "how much will you
take for her?"
"Twelve Késatchiés[A]! not a fraction less."
The negro drew a large purse out of his pocket and counted the money
over to my mistress. As soon as she had received it she turned to me and
said:--
"You ought to be thankful, Féliknaz, for you are a lucky girl. Here you
are, the first time you have been shown, bought for the wealthy Saïd
Pasha, and you are to wait upon a charming Hanoum of your own age. Mind
and be obedient, Féliknaz; it is the only thing for a slave."
I bent to kiss my mistress's hand, but she raised my face and kissed my
forehead. This caress was too much for me at such a moment, and my eyes
filled with tears. An intense craving for affection is always felt by
all who are desolate. Orphans and slaves especially know this to their
cost.
The negroes laughed at my sensitiveness, and pushed me towards the door,
one of them saying, "You've got a soft heart and a face of marble, but
you will change as you get older."
I did not attempt to reply, but just walked along in silence. It would
be impossible to give an idea of the anguish I felt when walking through
the Stamboul streets, my hand held by one of these men. I wondered what
kind of a harem I was going to be put into. "Oh, Allah!" I cried, and I
lifted my eyes towards Him, and He surely heard my unuttered prayer, for
is not Allah the protector of all who are wretched and forlorn?
[Footnote A: One Késatchié is about £4 10s.]