, the
Regent relinquished his claim to her; and only when Fimarcon's continued
brutality at last made intervention necessary, did he order the bully to
be arrested and consigned to the prison of Fort l'Eveque.

It is, however, in the story of Mademoiselle Aisse, the Circassian
slave, that we find the best illustration of the chivalry which underlay
the Regent's passion for women, and which he never forgot in his wildest
excesses. This story, one of the most touching in French history, opens
in the year 1698, when a band of Turkish soldiers returned to
Constantinople from a raid in the Caucasus, bringing with them, among
many other captives, a beautiful child of four years, said to be the
daughter of a King. So lovely was the little Circassian fairy that when
the Comte de Feriol, France's Ambassador to Turkey, set eyes on her, he
decided to purchase her; and she became his property in exchange for
fifteen hundred livres.

That she might have every advantage of training to fit her for his
seraglio in later years, the child was sent to Paris, to the home of the
Ambassador's brother, President de Feriol, where she grew to beautiful
girlhood as a member of the family, as fair a flower as ever was
transplanted to French soil. Thus she passed the next thirteen years of
her young life, charming all by her sweetness of disposition, as she won
the homage of all by her remarkable beauty and grace.

Such was Ayesha, or Aisse, the Circassian maid, when at last her "owner"
returned to Paris to fall under the spell of her radiant beauty and to
claim her as his chattel, bought with good gold and trained at his cost
to adorn his harem. In vain did Aisse weep and plead to be spared a fate
from which every fibre of her being shrank in horror. Her "master" was
inexorable. "When I bought you," he said, "it was my intention to make
you my daughter or my mistress. I now intend that you shall become both
the one and the other." Friendless and helpless, she was obliged to
yield; and for six years she had to submit to the endearments of her
protector, a man more than old enough to be her father, until his death
brought her release.

At twenty-four, more lovely than ever, combining the beauty of the
Circassian with the graces of France, Aisse had now every right to look
forward at least to such happiness as was possible to a stranger in a
strange land. But no sooner was one danger to her peace removed than
another sprang up to take its place.