The court-yard without now presents a busy appearance. The fishermen of Praousta, becoming impatient and anxious, had hurried in a body up the stairway in the rock. When the signal for the morning prayer was sounded from the minarets they knew that nothing was to be hoped for from the efforts of the sheik's daughter, and they agreed among themselves that they would go up in a body and petition for mercy.
They hastily agreed upon what they should say to the governor, and determined, of course, in their generosity of heart, that they would yield, and promise the governor to pay the double tax if he would only patiently wait a little while. This was their resolve. The sheik and the ulemas must be rescued, cost what it might. With this firm resolve they hastened up the stairway, entered the outer court- yard of the palace, and loudly demanded to be conducted to the governor.
But their clamors were in vain. At the gate of the palace stood the eight soldiers of the body-guard, with drawn swords, prepared to defend the entrance.
Enraged, the fishermen pressed forward with uplifted knives, threatening destruction to all who should attempt to bar their passage.
"Where is the governor? We must speak with him; we must have mercy."
"No, no mercy," cried a loud, sonorous voice; and, as they turned in the direction from which the voice came, they saw a fearful object standing in the middle of the court-yard--the block covered with black cloth. Near by, proudly erect, his lips firmly compressed, as if to repress words of imprecation or wrath that struggled for utterance, stood Mohammed Ali, like an angry spirit, ready to judge and to punish. Thus he stood there, and, behind, a slave holding in his hands the glittering axe. "Behold this, ye men of Praousta, and bow down in the dust; pay what the tschorbadji has demanded of you, or the heads of my prisoners shall fall as I have sworn."
Horror, rage, and anger, were combined in the single cry that resounded from the breasts of all.
"Mercy, mercy! you cruel boy! Do you intend to prevent the men of Praousta from returning tranquilly to their homes? do you wish to make slaves of them?"
"I have authority to act as I am acting, and I will grant no mercy to the men of Praousta. Men must obey the laws, and humbly submit to them; and this you have not done, ye rebels! Why have you followed the sheik and the ulemas? You see they must bow down in the dust, after all; and, unless you pay the tax demanded by the tschorbadji, they shall die."
"Listen, ye men of Praousta, listen!" cried a loud voice from one of the windows of the palace.
There stood Cousrouf Pacha, beckoning to the fishermen with his uplifted hand.
"Come into the palace; I wish to speak with you.--Make free the passage, ye soldiers! In the name of the tschorbadji, command you to allow these men to enter!"
With a loud shout the men rushed toward the door, and the body-guard stepped aside, and left the passage free.
Mohammed's glittering eyes followed them, and he suddenly turned pale, for Masa's lovely form now appeared on the threshold of the palace. A cry resounded from his lips. He stood helpless and motionless with anger and humiliation. It was now clear to him. She, who had sworn to love, who had sworn by her father's spirit that no man but he should ever raise her veil, had proved unfaithful. She had broken her sacred oath! She, whom he now loved with his whole heart and soul, had blasted his hopes. The thought almost stopped the beating of his heart. "Masa shall repent! Mohammed will wreak vengeance upon humanity for her broken faith."
He trembled, and pressed his lips firmly together, when her white figure appeared in the doorway. But Masa saw him not, nor thought of him; her whole attention was occupied with her father. With a joyous cry, and widely-extended arms, she flew to the enclosure. "O father, O my father," cried she, in loud, exultant tones, "you are free!"
"Free?" exclaimed the sheik. "It is impossible! It cannot be!"
Mohammed sprang forward, and thrust Masa aside with such force that she sank upon the ground. A cry of anguish escaped her lips. She veiled herself, and gazed at him with anxious, imploring glance. He could not endure it; he turned his eyes away from her; he would not see her; he would be as strong in his hatred as he was in his love!
"There is no mercy for the traitoress!" murmured he. "I will punish thee for thy unfaithfulness. I will revenge myself upon thee!"
The men of Praousta now issue from the house, and shout joyfully before the cage in which the aged men are imprisoned.
"You are saved--you are free. A noble man was found who sent us assistance. Long live Cousrouf Pacha, your deliverer!"
The pacha threw open the window. He stood there, his form proudly erect. Upon his turban glittered the golden half-moon; above it waved the eagle's wing; the sun fell upon his sword and richly- chased poniard, playing gayly with the precious stones with which his garments were adorned. His eyes sparkled, and a wondrous smile hovered about his lips. And again they shouted: "Long live Cousrouf Pacha, our deliverer in time of need, our savior!"
He bowed his haughty head, and his eyes rested passionately upon the young maiden, kneeling upon the ground in her agony. From her his glance passed over to Mohammed Ali. He saw the pain and anguish imprinted upon the livid countenance of the youth, and smiled triumphantly.
He withdrew from the window, and hastened down to the court-yard, followed by the tschorbadji. He approached Masa, and, bending over her, said, softly: "Rise, daughter of thy father. Your sorrow and trouble have passed away. Be gay and happy once more. That which wicked men sought to do unto you has been frustrated. Your father is free.--Tschorbadji," said he, "command your servant Mohammed-- command him to unlock the gate of this cage, and to release the prisoners he has guarded so closely."
"No!" shouted Mohammed, in a voice of thunder. With my consent alone can it be opened!--Guard the gates, ye officers; I go in quest of the key; and not one shall be released until, kneeling at my feet, with their heads in the dust, the rebels pay to me the double tax. What I have sworn--what I have sworn by my honor, that must be done."
"We will not consent! We will never yield!" cried the men, rushing about in confusion.
"Then the prisoners' heads shall fall!" cried he, exultingly waving his sword in the air. "The hour until which I granted a respite has come; the gold has not been paid; the law cannot be broken with impunity. You pay, or the hour of vengeance is at hand!"
"We will not kneel; we will not humiliate ourselves before you, you boy!"
With his sword still threateningly raised, Mohammed gazed around him.
The tschorbadji and his son now approached the men, and pleaded with them urgently. They explained to them that Mohammed was in the right; that he could not act differently. As he had sworn by his honor to force them to pay the double tax, he must therefore keep to his word.
"Do as he tells you," said the tschorbadji, in an entreating tone; "pay the tax he demands. Do it, ye men! I will reward you well, if you do as I say. He who goes to Mohammed to pay the money, he can ask at my hands a favor."
The men's anger became subdued by the soft, kind words of their master. With bowed heads and gloomy aspect, they approached Mohammed Ali, who still stood with threatening sword before the cage.
"We kneel before you in the dust; we have returned to our duty," said one of the men. "Here are the two sequins that I have to pay."
"Here are mine," "And mine," cried they all, with one accord. They knelt and offered Mohammed the gold.
He did not take it; but, gazing steadfastly and bitterly at the pacha, he thrust them aside with a movement of impatience. "Lay your gold upon the block. What, through your obstinacy, has occurred, cannot be obliterated by your gold. Lay your gold upon the block, for to it you offer your gold."
Laughing wildly, he turned and bowed before the veiled maiden. "But you pay for it with your honor, with your shame."
She fell forward, and a shriek of agony burst from her lips. But she still gazed with tender eyes upon the youth who looked down upon her so fiercely.
"Traitoress! You have forgotten your oath!"
"No, Mohammed," whispered she. "Hear me!"
"Away from me! do you still wish to deceive me?" Again he thrust her from him. Masa would have fallen, had not Osman hurried forward and sustained her.
"Forgive him," whispered he, softly. "He is wild with anger and pain."
"O Osman, is all known to you?" asked she, in trembling tones.
Osman bowed his head. Tears stood in his eyes. "Be quiet--we are watched. In the evening I will send you word."
"Open now the gates, and let the prisoners out," said the tschorbadji to Mohammed. "The law has been vindicated."
"It shall be as you command," said Mohammed, with the calmness sometimes born of despair. He drew forth the key, and placed it in the lock. Masa sprang forward. The gate opened, and now she stood beside her father. She threw her arms about him, and kissed his lips. Then she bowed her head upon his breast, and wept bitterly. The old man held her close to his heart, and then, lifting her up, bore her, trembling with emotion, from out the cage, in which he had endured such torture for four-and-twenty hours.
The ulemas followed him. Joyfully the men greeted the released prisoners, and prayed that they might escort them home in triumph.
"I see no cause for triumph," said the sheik, calmly. "You have done what I cannot approve. It were better, I think, to have laid my gray head upon the block, rather than you should place upon it your hard- earned gold, becoming hereby the slaves of him who gave it to you, and has thus lowered you by his gift.''
"No, sheik," said Cousrouf Pacha, advancing proudly. "He who gave this gold gave it not with such intent. He gave it not to humiliate these men. I gave it for your sake, and for your daughter's sake," continued he, in loud tones, and for an instant his eyes gleamed passionately on Masa.
He well knew his words would enter Mohammed's heart like a knife. Turning slowly, be glanced at him, and smiled at seeing him turn pale.
"I am now about to leave you," said the pacha. "The grand-sultan calls me from here. Fear not, therefore, O sheik, that my countenance will longer humiliate you. I give you freedom. Return to your friends; you are free!"
"Long live Cousrouf Pacha!" was the exultant cry of the men of Praousta.
No one heard, amid the many voices, the one crying "Cursed be Cousrouf Pacha! Cursed be my enemy unto death! I swear revenge upon him!"
"Cease, Mohammed; be guarded, be silent! Dissemble your anger, your pain, O friend of my heart! Believe me, all will soon be changed: the sky that now seems so dark, will soon be clear with the light of the sun and of love!"
"No, never, Osman, never," murmured Mohammed, gazing bitterly at Masa, who, leaning upon her father's arm, and followed by the ulemas and the jubilant fishermen, was now leaving the court-yard. "Nevermore, Osman, nevermore, will the sun shine for me! Night and impenetrable darkness envelop my fate! But I swear to revenge myself upon those who have done me this wrong!"
"Silence, silence, Mohammed!" said Osman, entreatingly, to his friend. "See, my father approaches, and with him Cousrouf Pacha. How triumphant he seems! He knows he has pained you. Will you permit him to see and rejoice in your pain?"
"No, no, you are right! He shall not rejoice in my pain! Bitter heartache shall I prepare for him someday!" Laughing bitterly to himself, he advanced toward the two approaching him.
"Mohammed Ali," said the governor, solemnly, "I thank you for your good services. You have accomplished that which, by your honor, you swore to fulfil. And I affirm that I also have kept my word. I allowed you to do as you thought best, and did not restrain you when I thought your acts cruel; but I must nevertheless admit that you have acted with wisdom and with courage. Gladly will I reward you for that which you obtained through your daring. It is fit that such a man should have an office, and exercise the duties thereof from now on. Mohammed Ali, I have good news to impart to you! The scenes of yesterday have taught me that, to preserve peace and quiet, it is necessary to have soldiers at hand. I have already dispatched a courier to the neighboring town, and a garrison shall hereafter stay here or at Cavalla. You, Mohammed Ali, I appoint boulouk bashi, or captain of this company that is to enter Cavalla to-morrow."
A deep color overspread, like the morning sunlight, Mohammed's countenance:--"Master, you well know how to reward generously him who has done naught but his duty."
"And now, my Mohammed," whispered Osman, softly, "or rather boulouk bashi, let me be the first to congratulate you. How proud and happy I shall be when I see Mohammed Ali, in his glittering uniform, marching at the head of his company. Proud and happy shall I account myself when so handsome, so brave a soldier, considers me worthy of his protection!"
"You make sport of me," murmured Mohammed, a soft smile illuminating his countenance. In the spirit he saw himself in his handsome uniform at the head of his company. Truth and justice are once more acknowledged. The hour of humiliation and pain has gone by. The time he had so long looked for had arrived. He listened calmly to the tschorbadji's announcement that on the morrow his uniform would be ready, as well as those of his soldiers, which were to be sent, at once to Cavalla.
"There will be a number of uniforms, and the young boulouk bashi can make his choice from among them."
"And the sword, my father, the sword, I will give to my friend Mohammed Ali!" cried Osman, joyously. "Do you remember the gold- handled sword given me by the grand-vizier on his last visit? I have kept it jealously, though, alas! I can never wear it myself. And now my friend shall wear it in my place, and, when I see him pass by with the glittering weapon at his side, it will seem as if I carried it myself in defence of my beloved country. Come with me, Mohammed," said he, taking his friend's arm. "You are in need of rest. You have been deeply moved, and now let us retire. It is quiet within my father's apartments; there we will betake ourselves and repose together."
"We will all follow you," said the governor.--"I pray Cousrouf Pacha to accompany us. The day is bright and lovely, and I think we all stand in need of rest and refreshment. There we will take our coffee, and at the same time something more substantial together, and, enveloped by the smoke from our pipes, we will discuss the events of this day, which commenced so stormily, and now seems to end so pleasantly to our general joy."
"Who knows, tschorbadji, that it brings joy to all?" said Cousrouf Pacha, sneeringly. "I, of course, have cause to rejoice and be thankful, this day. But it strikes me, Mohammed Ali is by nature little inclined to be thankful. Instead of joyfully receiving his honors, he seems to gaze wrathfully upon us all."
"I think I have cause to do so," said Mohammed, impetuously turning to him.
"And wherefore?" said Cousrouf Pacha. "Wherefore? Speak on."
"Well," said Mohammed, "many, I think, receive honors which they have not deserved, and have done naught to earn, as if they were to be bought, and they knew how to purchase them. I say that honor, power, and consideration, often spring from hypocrisy and slavish submission; and that through cunning, deceit, and shame, many a free human soul becomes abject and lost. I hope I am understood by Cousrouf Pacha!"
"I regret that I can neither understand nor explain these strange words. But you must feel, tachorbadji, that I have to deny myself the pleasure of remaining longer with you in the company of this wild young man, whose mind seems bewildered by the honors conferred on him. Enjoy yourselves in quiet repose, and be happy at your feast."
"Do as it suits you," cried Mohammed. "I shall not share it. I am exhausted, and shall retire to rest and refresh myself. Farewell!"
He bowed his head, and carried his hand in greeting both to lip and brow. He then turned, and hastened rapidly away.
The pacha followed him with an evil glance. "The forward youth is forever in my path," said he, threateningly. "It was well for him he withdrew, for it might have come to bitter enmity between us. Should he dare again what he this day ventured upon, his life would no longer be secure. Being a guest in your house, and meeting him there, made me considerate to-day. But woe unto him should he cross my path, when no such considerations restrain me! Bitterly shall he repent of his words."
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