ill, not only was it the first time he
had left the village where he had been brought up, but no one had ever
spoken to him of Constantinople, and he did not so much as know the name
of a single street or of a creature who lived in it.

Wondering what he was to do next, Neangir stood still for a moment to
look about him, when suddenly a pleasant-looking man came up, and bowing
politely, asked if the youth would do him the honour of staying in
his house till he had made some plans for himself. Neangir, not seeing
anything else he could do, accepted the stranger's offer and followed
him home.

They entered a large room, where a girl of about twelve years old was
laying three places at the table.

'Zelida,' said the stranger, 'was I not quite right when I told you that
I should bring back a friend to sup with us?'

'My father,' replied the girl, 'you are always right in what you say,
and what is better still, you never mislead others.' As she spoke, an
old slave placed on the table a dish called pillau, made of rice and
meat, which is a great favourite among people in the East, and setting
down glasses of sherbet before each person, left the room quietly.

During the meal the host talked a great deal upon all sorts of subjects;
but Neangir did nothing but look at Zelida, as far as he could without
being positively rude.

The girl blushed and grew uncomfortable, and at last turned to her
father. 'The stranger's eyes never wander from me,' she said in a low
and hesitating voice. 'If Hassan should hear of it, jealousy will make
him mad.'

'No, no,' replied the father, 'you are certainly not for this young man.
Did I not tell you before that I intend him for your sister Argentine.
I will at once take measures to fix his heart upon her,' and he rose
and opened a cupboard, from which he took some fruits and a jug of
wine, which he put on the table, together with a small silver and
mother-of-pearl box.

'Taste this wine,' he said to the young man, pouring some into a glass.

'Give me a little, too,' cried Zelida.

'Certainly not,' answered her father, 'you and Hassan both had as much
as was good for you the other day.'

'Then drink some yourself,' replied she, 'or this young man will think
we mean to poison him.'

'Well, if you wish, I will do so,' said the father; 'this elixir is not
dangerous at my age, as it is at yours.'

When Neangir had emptied his glass, his host opened the mother-of-pearl
box and held it