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He liked her to dress in the fashion of a lady so that he could show her to his friends. Halil’s mother once found a carefully preserved, beautiful, though faded, Parisian gown in a small box in this house. It had belonged to the Circassian.
    One day, she disappeared from our house in Istanbul. At first Sabiha was delighted, but a month passed and she noticed that her rival’s absence, far from affecting Mahmut Pasha adversely, appeared to have improved his humour. Sabiha realised that something was being hidden from her. She sent for Petrossian’s grandfather, but he denied all knowledge of anything related to his master’s passion.
    I think it must have been one of the maids who, jealous of the social ascent achieved by her Circassian peer, told her mistress the truth. The Circassian was carrying Mahmut Pasha’s child and had been sent here for the period of her confinement. Who knows but that the child was intended to be born in this very room and in this very bed where Iskander Pasha now lies, unable to speak, but frowning at me because he disapproves of this story? Forgive me, dear brother. But every beginning needs an end. You disagree?’
    My father was writing a note on his pad that I took to my uncle, who smiled.
    “Iskander says there was no ending. That everything else is supposition. That evil tongues in the servants’ quarters manufactured tales that were untrue. He is tired and wants to sleep and suggests we continue tomorrow. We must respect his wishes, but the end will not take long.
    “There was an ending, and it was of a tragic nature. Mahmut Pasha’s Circassian disappeared with the unborn child. She was never seen again. When I was little the servants used to frighten me with stories of a baby ghost whose screams were often heard outside this balcony. Ask Petrossian and he will tell you that Sabiha had her murdered. He claims he heard the story from his father. So there was an ending, even though Mahmut Pasha, like his descendant Iskander, preferred to believe that she had run away. He offered a big reward to anyone who brought him news of her, but it was never claimed.”
    With these words the Baron and Uncle Memed rose, bowed graciously in the direction of my father, who had shut his eyes in disapproval, and left the room. We followed in silence.

FOUR
The Circassian tells her truth to the Stone Woman and bemoans her fate; how the rich cancel the love of the poor
    ‘W ILL YOU LISTEN TO my tale of woe, Stone Woman, or do your ears welcome only the voice of the Pasha and his family? I’ve been in this house for over three months. I’m well looked after and fed by the caretaker and his wife and I’m happy to be away from Istanbul, but in my solitude, I miss Hikmet more than ever before. I wake up every day long before the birds. It is still not light and the stars have yet to fade. I can’t sleep. Hikmet’s face and his voice fill my dreams and make me miserable. Look at me. I am eight months pregnant with Mahmut Pasha’s child but my heart is still heavier than my stomach.
    In my dreams I see Hikmet in his soldier’s uniform. He is looking at me with bitterness in his grey eyes. They speak to me: “We trusted you, but you would not wait. You betrayed our love for a rich man’s comfort.” I plead forgiveness. I beg for mercy, but inside myself I know that his eyes are speaking the truth. I was pledged to him. I was even preparing to ask the mistress for permission to marry him, when the cursed day arrived and our lord, Mahmut Pasha, catching sight of me, began to twirl his moustache. It was the fatal sign of which I had first been warned when I was a girl of ten, and now, eight years later, it had happened. My heart sank straight to my feet.
    The house maids still warn any new addition to the household that there is a longstanding tradition in this family. When the master looks at any one of them and begins to play with his moustache, it is a sign that the call to his bed will come for