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[1] [2]
[3] [4] |
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IV.
A CIRCLE IN THE SEA.
On the same day there was a festival in the
seraglio, to celebrate the advancement of Rose-pompon to the rank of chief
sultana. Dances, ring-sports, archery, macaroon-lotteries, Chinese shadows, --
nothing was spared that could render the fête worthy of him who gave it, and of
her for whom it was given. Before the sun went down Shahabaam, followed by his
entire court, ascended the loftiest turret of his palace. Four slaves were in
waiting, holding in their hands a leathern bag, in which a human form seemed to
be moving. The slaves waved this bundle back and forth or a few minutes, and
then, at a signal from their master, they hurled it down from the battlements.
Shahabaam leaned over the terrace, and followed
with his eye the descent of the sack. As the waters closed over it, he drew back
and exclaimed: “What a magnificent circle!”
This magnificent circle was the body of the
incomparable Tulipia; and she had produced it by her fall into the sea.
For a
few days the
tragical end of the
unfortunate sultana was the common topic – and then she ceased to be named. No
one regretted her. Beauty without intelligence leaves few traces on the memory.
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