She had been always pursued by a crowd of lovers, and people were persuaded that she had not treated them all with severity. Whether it were inadvertence, or thorough good nature, her common politeness frequently resembled premeditated regard: and those who endeavour’d to gain her, sometimes read affection in her eyes, when she never intended more than affability. Neither caustic, nor detracting, she never open’d her mouth but to say pleasing things: which she did with such spirit and vivacity, that on several occasions, her encomiums raised a suspicion that she had a choice to justify. Thus it appears, that those, of whom Egle was the ornament and delight, were unworthy of her.
It was natural to think, that a woman, in whom no fault perhaps was to be found, but an excess of goodness, ought to have no enemies. Yet she had some, and very bitter ones. The devouts of Banza found that she had too free an air, and somewhat too loose in her carriage; saw nothing in her conduct but a rage of worldly pleasures; inferred thence, that her morals were equivocal at least, and charitably insinuated this to all those that would hear them.
The court ladies did not treat Egle with greater tenderness. They suspected her intimacies, gave her gallants, even honored her with some great adventures, made her a party concerned in others: they knew particulars, and quoted witnesses. “Good,” whispered they, “she has been surprised tête à tête with Melraim in one of the groves of the great park. Egle does not want wit,” added they; “but Melraim has too much good sense to be amused with her speeches alone, at ten at night, in a grove.”
“You are mistaken,” said a Petit-Maître, “I have walked with her a hundred times in the dusk of the evening, and found my account in it. But apropos, do you know that Zulemar is daily at her toilette?”
“Doubtless, we know it, and that she has no toilette but when her husband is in waiting at court.”
“Poor Celebi,” continued another, “indeed his wife advertises him by the aigrette and diamond buckles, which she received of the pacha Ismael.”
“Is that true, madam?”
“It is strict truth, I have it from her own mouth: but in the name of Brama let this go no farther. Egle is my friend, and I should be very sorry—”
“Alas,” cried a third sorrowfully, “the poor little creature ruins herself very cheerfully. A great pity truly. But twenty intrigues at a time, that seems rather too much.”
The Petits-Maîtres were not more sparing of her. One related a hunting match, in which she and he lost themselves together. Another, out of respect for the sex, suppress’d the consequences of a very smart conversation he held with her at a masquerade, where he met her. A third made a panegyric on her wit and charms, and ended it by showing her portrait, which he declared he had from the best hands. “This portrait,” said a fourth, “is more like her than that, of which she made a present to Jenaki.”
These stories at length came to her husband’s ears. Celebi loved his wife, but still with such decency, that nobody had the least suspicion of it. He repulsed the first reports, but they return’d to the charge from so many quarters, that he thought his friends more clear-sighted than himself: and the more liberty he had granted to Egle, the more he suspected that she had abused it. Jealousy took possession of his soul. He began by cramping his wife. Egle bore this change of behaviour with the greater impatience, as she was conscious of her innocence. Her vivacity and the advices of her female friends, hurried her into inconsiderate deportment, which made all the appearances turn against her, and had like to cost her her life. The violent Celebi for some time rack’d his brain with a thousand projects of revenge, steel, poison, the fatal noose, etc. and at length resolved on a slower and more cruel punishment, by confining her to his country seat: which is death indeed to a court lady. In a word, orders are given: Egle is inform’d of her destiny: he is insensible to her tears and deaf to her reasons, and she is banish’d two hundred miles from Banza, to an old castle, where she is allowed no other company than two maids and four black eunuchs, who continually watch her.
Scarcely was she set out, when she was innocent. The Petits-Maîtres forgot her adventures; the women forgave her her wit and charms, and all the world bemoaned her. Mangogul was apprized, from Celebi’s own mouth, of his motives for the dreadful resolution he had taken against his wife, and seem’d to be the only person that approved it.
The wretched Egle had already groaned near six months under her exile, when Kerfael’s adventure happened. Mirzoza wish’d she might prove innocent, but durst not indulge those flattering hopes. However, she one day said to the Sultan: “Prince, might not your ring, which has saved Kerfael’s life, put an end to Egle’s banishment? But I forget myself: in order to that, her Toy should be consulted; and the poor recluse is dying with grief two hundred miles hence.”
“You interest yourself much,” answered Mangogul, “in Egle’s fate.”
“Yes Prince,” said Mirzoza; “especially if she is innocent.”
“You shall have tidings of this affair within an hour,” replied Mangogul. “Do you not remember the properties of my ring?”—At these words, he went into the garden, turn’d his ring, and in less than fifteen minutes was in the park of the castle wherein Egle dwelt.
There he espied Egle alone and overwhelm’d with sorrow: her head was leaning on her hand, she was tenderly repeating her husband’s name, and with her tears she was watering the green turf, on which she sat. Mangogul drawing near turn’d his ring on her, and Egle’s Toy said in a mournful strain: “I love Celebi.” The Sultan waited for the sequel; but as it
