The tone of his voice startled me—it was full of utter despair, and I saw that his lips quivered as he spoke.
I could not bear to see him suffer like that another second.
"Bey Effendi!" I cried, "your son is saved!"
He turned round, but I was covered with my torn simare, which was all stained with mud; the light did not fall on me, and he did not recognise me at all. My voice, too, must have sounded strange, for after all the emotion and torture I had gone through, and then my long fainting-fit, I could scarcely articulate a sound. He saw the baby which I was holding up, and stepped forward.
"He saw the baby."
"What is he to me," he said, "without my Féliknaz?"
"Mourad!" I exclaimed, "I am here, too! He darted to me, and took me in his arms; then, with his eyes full of tears, he looked at tenderly and, kissed me over and over again.
"Effendis," he cried, turning at last to his friends, and with a joyous ring in his voice, "I thought I was ruined, but Allah has given me back my dearest treasure. Do not pity me any more, I am perfectly happy!"
We lost a great deal of our wealth by that fire. Our slaves had escaped, taking with them all our most valuable things.
Mourad is quite certain that the women had set fire to the house from jealousy, but instead of regretting our former wealth, he does all in his power to make up for it by increased attention and care for me, and his only trouble is to see me waiting upon him.
But whenever he says anything about that I throw my arms around his neck and whisper, "Have you forgotten, Mourad, my husband, that your Féliknaz is your slave?"
