heavy, shaggy
eyebrows, he dashed at the sailor a look of deadly rage, while a heavy
sigh escaped from his deep chest.

The Englishman only regretted that he could not acquit himself as
creditably in this play of eyebrows. His own were small, of a bright
blonde color, and somewhat pointed.

The dragoman, however, could read an ominous meaning in this deep
silence.

"O glorious giaour, rosebud of thy nation!" whispered he, "fleet
water-spider of the ocean, ask not so senseless a thing from the Grand
Signior! Behold his wrathful eyes, and ask for something else; ask for
his most precious treasure; ask for all his damsels, if thou wilt, but
ask not to see the face of his favorite. Thou knowest not the meaning
thereof."

Morrison shrugged his shoulders. "I want neither his treasure nor his
damsels. I only want to see his favorite wife."

Mahmoud trembled, but not a word did he speak. Two tear-drops twinkled
in his dark eyes and ran down his handsome, manly face.

At this the Viziers leaped to their feet, and it was evident from
their agitated cries that they expected the Sultan to order the
presumptuous infidel to be cut down there and then.

The dragoman, in despair, flung himself at the seaman's feet.

"O prince of all whales!" he cried. "O unbelieving dog! Thou seest me,
a true believer, lying at thy feet. O wine-drinking giaour! Why wilt
thou entangle me with the words which the Sultan said to thee through
me? Art thou not ashamed to place thy foot on the neck of the lord of
princes? Ask some other thing!"

In vain. The sailor changed not a muscle of his face. He simply
repeated, with imperturbable _sang-froid_, the words:

"I want to see his favorite wife."

The Viziers rushed at him with a howl of fury, but Morrison merely
threw back the caftan which had been folded across his breast,
revealing his dreaded uniform and the decorations appended
thereto--memorials of his services at Alexandria and Trafalgar. That,
he thought, would quite suffice to preserve him from any violence.

But the Sultan leaped down from his throne, beckoned with his hand to
the Viziers, and whispered some words in the ear of the Kislar-Agasi,
who thereupon withdrew. This whispered word went the round of the
Viziers, who straightway did obeisance and disappeared in three
different directions through the three doors of the room, their places
being taken by two black slaves in red fezes and white robes, with
broad-bladed, crooked sw