Inspired by hatred of iniquity, fanned and encouraged by her little court, the anguished mother had made sure arrangements for the English girl’s dishonour, thinking no crime to vilify so bad a thing. The scheme, alas! had been frustrated by the eunuchs; whose vigilance redoubled the poor lady’s grief. What dreadful magic must reside in that foul creature to make the Pasha guard her like a pearl? to make poor Yûsuf cling to her and shun his mother? Her cronies recommended her to summon negresses, of those who have familiar intercourse with demons, and hold the mystic ceremony called a zâr⁠—the latest novelty. But Fitnah Khânum feared the Pasha, who denounced such consolations as against religion. She was in despair. The hours flew by towards the wedding; and she, perceiving all its horror, had no power to stop it.

On the very morning of the day appointed for the final ceremonies, she received two visitors, not in her own room, but in a dirty closet used for rubbish. The first to enter was the same old woman who had lured Barakah from her chamber with the name of Yûsuf. The second, throwing off the veil, revealed a goatish face with pointed ears beneath a foul white skullcap. It was Abu Sumûm, the most renowned of sorcerers.