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 _selamlik_ (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' _feradje_ (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, Feliknaz," 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.