“Thou art like Leylah Khânum,” whispered Barakah. “Thou wilt choose and choose away till none are left.”

“By no means,” was the laughing answer. “I am a young maid. Moreover, it is not the man I stickle for; it is society.”

Whenever ladies whom she did not choose came to inspect her, Gulbeyzah donned a rustic air and talked to shock them. Barakah had no idea of what she meant when saying she required society, until one day she told her:

“Praise to Allah! Only think, beloved! Three Circassians, young like me, from the same district! Their lord⁠—a Pasha of the richest⁠—wants another like them. They are gratified. I have been recommended. They come today for my inspection. Thou shalt see them presently, as also a Gulbeyzah no one ever saw before. O day of milk! O wave-crest of all days!”

Barakah had been summoned by the ladies and a carriage sent for her. Gulbeyzah had waylaid her on the way to the reception-room.