What mask would cover my shame at the words without meaning or culture of a fool? What I do not mortify thorns in my hands when making money was the result of greed or indelicate? Am I an actress to aspire to the applause of the crowd? Am Queen, perhaps, to wish subjects and sycophants? I want to be happy, my uncle, for myself and not for the public. I want my heart to be of one, I respect the bold as to be holy because they belong to a worthy man. I want to rest my arm on my husband, I feel proud that I rely on the strength of virtue and talent.

You shut up, my uncle, because I find that I have reason, and because my words are a poor reflection of the ideas you has given me. My gratitude will be eternal to the teacher who delivered me from the torment of falling alive into the hands of a corpse. The well-educated woman is exposed to the fate of the beautiful Christian fall into the hands of the Berbers and passed from the Mediterranean to the bottom of a harem, where, language, customs, religion, pleasure, are unfamiliar and unfriendly .