"We must assure his safety," murmured Osman, as he looked after his friend, who was hastily leaving the garden. "His life must at least be sacred, and I will go at once with my father to Cousrouf Pacha. It is a sacrifice, for I hate this proud, overbearing man. He seems to consider himself as conferring a favor when he condescends to accept our hospitality. I hate him! Yet I will humiliate myself for my friend's sake, and play the humble and devoted servant. I shall find strength to do so, for it is for Mohammed and his white dove. Yes, I will go with my father to the pacha's apartments."
A quarter of an hour later Tschorbadji Hassan, with a startled and sorrowful expression of countenance entered the room where Cousrouf Pacha lay reclining on his soft cushions, dreamily smoking his chibouque.
"Is it, then, really true? The whole house is filled with dismay and regret. Is it true that you intend leaving us tomorrow?"
"Perhaps," replied the pacha, composedly, rising slowly from his cushions to quiet the governor, with haughty condescension.
"So soon? Then it is indeed true? We had heard so, but we could not and would not believe it. We love you so dearly that we shall unwillingly see you depart. Even my son, my poor sick Osman, who cannot walk up a stairway because of his weakness, has requested that he may be permitted to come in person to take leave of you, and to beg that you will remember and be gracious to him in the future also. Will your excellency permit his servants to bring him in?"
Cousrouf Pacha made no reply, but arose, walked hastily to the door, opened it himself, and stepped out to Osman, who lay on the couch, beside which stood the slaves who had brought him up.
"Osman, I thank you for this proof of your friendly consideration.-- Take hold now, ye dogs, and bear your master into the room!"
He walked beside the couch while the slaves bore it into the room, and deposited it, at his command, beside his own cushions.
"Now come, too, tschorbadji, and seat yourself at our side, and let us smoke the chibouque together for the last time."
"The pipe of peace, Cousrouf Pacha, as the savages do when seated together for the last time in their wigwam," said Osman, smiling.
The pacha cast a searching glance at him.
"Tschorbadji, you have a very learned son. I know nothing of such things, have never heard of them. Who smoke the pipe of peace?"
"The savages in America, when they become reconciled to their enemies, and receive them in their wigwam."
"But that has no application to us. In the first place, we are not savages, but very respectable and considerable people; and secondly, I trust I am not receiving enemies here, with whom it is necessary to smoke the pipe of peace."
"Certainly not, but very faithful friends and devoted servants, who have come to bid you a last farewell."
"You are right, tschorbadji, a last farewell, I trust," said the pacha, laughing. "For (and forgive me for saying so) it is horribly dull here in your city of Cavalla. Your revolutionary fishermen and the rest of the rabble here would make my life intolerable. I admire you, tschorbadji, for having the courage to bear it--and particularly you, my dear Osman. You should endeavor to obtain some position in Stamboul. There you would recover your health; the rude sea air here is assuredly injurious to your weak lungs."
"I wish he would do so," said the tscborbadji, with a sigh. "You are certainly right, the keen sea air, and the rough storms that often surge down from the mountains are injurious to my son, but it is different in Stamboul, where one is protected from the surrounding mountains. I wish he would go to Stamboul, and that you would assist him in obtaining a suitable position there."
"Father," replied Osman, gently, "I will not separate myself from you. Wherever you are there will I remain, for we two are inseparable."
"Then a better place must be found for your father, Osman."
"If that could be, excellency, I should be happy indeed!" cried the governor.
"I am under obligations to you, tschorbadji," observed the pacha, bowing haughtily. "I am really greatly in your debt. With all my servants I have been your guest for three years, and I vainly urged you to accept payment. Indeed, I hardly dared speak of it to the wealthy and distinguished tschorbadji, and it was not fitting to attempt to remunerate him, But yet, I assure you, this weight of gratitude rests heavily on me. I have accepted your hospitality without recompense for these three long years. Now, however, tschorbadji, now that Cousrouf Pacha is about to return to Stamboul, he can at last repay this burden of gratitude and debt. You are my friend, and I now beg you to tell me of something I can do for you. Cousrouf Pacha now has power and influence which he will exert for those he loves. Therefore I entreat you, tschorbadji, acquaint me with your wishes."
"I have no other wishes than those of my son. They call me here an affectionate father, and mention me as an example of passionate paternal love, and they are right. My Osman is every thing to me; he is my wife, child, sister, friend, comrade, my all. What Osman wishes that is my wish also. Therefore, if it so pleases you, transfer your gracious favor to my son, and grant his request, if he has one to prefer."
"I swear by my beard, by Allah, and by the prophet, if Osman expresses a wish, I will grant it certainly and surely. I repeat my triple oath, and call Allah to witness it. What he requests I will grant!"
"You have heard this oath, father, and Allah has heard it, too," said Osman, solemnly rising from his couch and turning the gaze of his large luminous eyes full on the pacha's countenance. "I have a wish, a great, a cherished wish."
"And can I grant it?"
"You can if you will."
"Certainly I will, for I am now bound by the triple oath. It is sacred to every Moslem, and sacred to me at all times. So speak, Osman, and I will grant what you request."
Osman rose from his seat, and the pale, weak youth stood there with so solemn an expression that the tschorbadji and the pacha involuntarily arose from their cushions.
"Cousrouf Pacha, hear my wish: I require, wish, and expect of you, that you hold sacred, that is, that you neither personally, nor through any one else, insult or injure the person of my friend Mohammed Ali, the only being I love beside my father."
The pacha regarded him with a long, gloomy, threatening look, and made no reply. Osman read in his face the struggle that was raging in his soul, and continued in gentle tones:
"Cousrouf Pacha, look at me. I am a frail reed, liable to be thrown to the ground by every breath of wind. I am a poor blade of grass upon the sea-shore, liable to be swept to destruction by each wave. Oh, grant me this request, in order that, while the sun still shines for me, I may enjoy the last hours of my existence in peace!"
"Yes, do so, mighty pacha," cried the tschorbadji, bursting into tears, and falling upon his knees with folded hands. "Cousrouf Pacha, see me here at your feet, and grant my son's request in order that he may live. I know that he loves Mohammed Ali, that he loves him even more than his father. He fears that his friend is in danger through you!"
"And why do you fear this, Osman?" asked the pacha, slowly and angrily.
"I fear it," replied Osman, softly, "because I well know that Mohammed has often offended you. He is still so young and impetuous, and the consciousness of his poverty and obscure descent burdens his soul and irritates him, in the presence of your greatness and power."
"And yet he dares, in his littleness, to meet me with haughty words and to look at me as though he were my equal! Should the boy not step respectfully aside, and bow his head in humility, when he sees me? You are right, Osman, I hate this proud, obstinate lad!"
"I have uttered my only wish," said Osman, gently. "You will grant it, for I have your triple oath. I repeat my wish once more: Cousrouf Pacba, protect and spare my friend Mohammed Ali; swear that no harm shall be done him, either by you or by your servants. Let no wicked hand seek his life, neither by poison, by weapons, nor by any other means. Let him go his way in peace. By the triple oath which you have sworn, I conjure you to grant this wish."
The pacha regarded him long and gloomily, and then bowed his head slowly.
"I swore the triple oath, and Cousrouf Pacha has never yet broken his word. Your wish is accorded; the life of this lad shall be sacred to me henceforth; no hair of his head shall be injured; his life shall not be sought either by poison, by dagger, or by other means; he may go his way in peace, but woe to him if we should meet elsewhere than here, in Cavalla, where I honor my host and my oath! Be assured now and fear nothing. Mohammed Ali's life is sacred to me; I swear it!"
"I am content, and I thank you. You have made me happier than I have been for a long time. I do not deny that Mohammed has sometimes deserved to be reprimanded for his conduct, but, I also repeat, he, is still so young, his heart so fiery, his soul so full of ardor and nobility. He will yet learn to conform to the customs of the world."
"I sincerely hope he may," said the pacha, quietly. "As yet he has, however, not learned it; he should come to Stamboul--there he would be taught to bend his proud neck. Tell me, Osman, have I now paid off the debt of gratitude that rested on my shoulders?"
"You have now transferred it to our shoulders," exclaimed the tschorbadji, ardently. "See how happy my Osman looks; how his countenance is wreathed in smiles! There is no trace of sorrow or pain in his features now; joy is restoring him to health; and I owe this to you, and shall continue to thank you for it, when you are no longer here. We wish you all happiness! Our friend and benefactor, the great general, Cousrouf Pacha, will in the future be called on to perform great things, and the report of his glory and power will reach us here on our peninsula."
"I hope it may," said the pacha, softly, as he proudly inclined his head. "Yes, I hope it may. My glory will resound throughout the world, and may, perhaps, be trumpeted forth by the virgin Fame, so favorable to me, even here in this rocky nest. The imperial majesty in Stamboul has elected me to great things, and Allah will permit me to live to fulfil them."
"He will certainly do so," protested the governor.--"And now, my son, with his excellency's permission, I will call the slaves, and have you carried down again. I am afraid we are trespassing on valuable time, as his excellency will have many things to attend to."
The pacha assented to this by his silence, and the governor hastened to call the slaves, that they might bear his son down into the garden.
The pacha pressed Osman's hand once more, assured him of his friendship, and promised him solemnly that Mohammed need no longer be fearful and anxious.
"And he is not," cried Osman, quickly; "he fears nothing."
"Be still, my son," exclaimed the governor, interrupting him hastily; "his excellency only means that he will be considerate with him, and that you will have nothing to fear on Mohammed's account. And now, come, let us go."
He then bowed profoundly to the pacha, and walked out beside the couch on which the slaves were carrying his son.
The pacha's countenance grew still darker when the door had closed behind father and son.
"This Osman is shrewd," he murmured to himself. "He knows how to divine one's thoughts.--Achmed and Ali, come in!"
The eunuchs glided in through the side-entrance, and remained standing near the door, their heads profoundly inclined. He slowly raised his hand, and beckoned to them to come nearer.
"What progress have you made in your search?"
The eunuchs threw themselves on the floor, profound humiliation depicted on their faces.
"Mighty and gracious master! we have been tardy slaves, and humbly acknowledge our fault; we will do all we can to redeem it, and we hope soon to bring better news. Yes, we hope, gracious master, that we shall soon be able to announce what our master desires to know."
"Then you have a trace?" said the pacha, his countenance lighting up with joy.
"Yes, master, as yet only a trace; but we hope soon to have certainty."
"Good, I will inquire no further. But of one thing I must remind you: three days have already passed, within the next four days you will have brought me the runaway slave or your heads fall."
"O gracious master, we hope to do so much sooner!"
"It is well," said the pacha, with a slight inclination of his haughty head. "And now listen further: spread the report of my departure tomorrow morning; say that Cousrouf Pacha will perhaps depart this evening, with his harem and his servants, to return no more."
"It shall be as our gracious master commands," said the two eunuchs.
"You know Mohammed Ali, the new boulouk bashi?"
"Yes, excellency, we know him."
"Let no one dare do him a bodily injury. Look down humbly when you pass him, and, if he insults you with word or look, step nevertheless respectfully aside. Let none of you dare to touch him to injure a hair of his head, or to seek his life with poison, the dagger, or any other weapon. Let the life of Mohammed Ali, the new boulouk bashi, be sacred to you all. Have you heard?"
"We have heard, mighty master."
With an impatient gesture he dismissed them, and he continued to walk to and fro in his room long after they had gone out. His brow is dark, evil thoughts fill his breast.
"I have sworn the triple oath, and I must keep it. I no longer threaten him personally. Woe to him if my suspicion proves true, and Masa has found an asylum and protection with him! I will keep my word! No hair of Mohammed's head shall be injured, but I will punish him through her; for truly, if he loves her, such punishment will be harder than any thing I could do to him personally. The eunuchs say they are on her track, and it must be so, or they would not dare to say it. And these bloodhounds, being once on the track, are sure to catch their prey!"
The eunuchs had faithfully obeyed their master's command, and hardly had an hour elapsed when all Praousta knew that Cousrouf Pacha was on the point of taking his departure from the peninsula, to return no more.
They were also informed that a ship had come to convey him back to Stamboul, where the grand-sultan was to recompense him for his long exile with power, magnificence, and honors. The matter was much discussed, and they whisperingly confessed to each other that they would be well pleased to know that the proud man, who was the cause of so much unhappiness, had taken his departure.
Was it not on his account that the double tax had been imposed on the people? Had not the extra expenditure been incurred on his account? True, the tschorbadji had attempted to deny this, but the additional expense was nevertheless clearly owing to the pacha's presence in Cavalla. Moreover, the sad story of the unhappy Masa, who had chosen to die rather than become a slave, was now known. Yes, she had taken her own life--of that, no one now entertained a doubt. She had assuredly thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea. Some boys, who were engaged at night in setting out nets, had seen a white figure alone on the Ear of Bucephalus.
That white figure was certainly Masa. She had thrown herself into the sea in order that she, the free daughter of the sheik, might not be compelled to become a slave and enter the harem of the stranger. They had sought for the body of the poor girl on the shore and among the cliffs. The sea had, however, been stormy throughout the entire day, and the surging waves must have borne her away into the depths, where she had become a welcome prey to the greedy shark. Nowhere a trace of her; she is surely dead.
The complaints and lamentations of the sheik are also silenced--he reclines motionless on his cushions. Grief and anxiety have made him helpless, and chained him to his couch. He suffers in silence, and his friends hope that death will soon release him from his misery.
And this overbearing stranger, Cousrouf Pacha, is to blame for all this!
He gave himself the appearance of graciously making the fishermen a present of the money to pay the double tax. But he had deceived them. Oh, had they but known that Masa had sold herself for this money, they never would have accepted it! They therefore hate this haughty stranger, and are glad that he is about to leave their coast forever.
The ship still lies quietly at anchor, her streamers flutter gayly in the air, her sides are hung with bright-colored carpets, and garlands of flowers are entwined with her rigging. The ship presents a brilliant spectacle, and it may well be that the pacha is to embark this very evening. But no! Night sinks down, and all remains dark on board the ship, which casts a huge shadow across the waves. No, Cousrouf Pacha will certainly not embark this evening. The night is dark, and all is still in Praousta and on the sea-shore.
And who would care to be up and abrat this late hour! Whoever has a hut and a bed, remains at home and does not go out into the night. No, no one is abr
But is not that the sound of footsteps that now breaks in upon the stillness of the night?
A dark shadow is gliding along among the cliffs on the shore. Who can say that it is a human being! No star sheds its light on his path--the moon is obscured behind dark clouds. It is perhaps an eagle that has been cast down by the storm, and is now wearily winging its flight across the cliffs. Who can say that it is a man that is gliding among the cliffs? No one sees him; no one can betray him. The shadow now stands still for a moment, and for a single moment the moon breaks forth from behind the dark clouds. It sees the figure, it sees the man who stands there on a rock, his large, luminous eyes gazing anxiously, suspiciously about him, as though he feared betrayal.
The kindly moon has permitted him to take a look at the landscape round about him, and to assure him there is no one in the vicinity to betray him. All is at rest, he alone is awake and abr The moon has done enough; it glides behind a dark cloud and conceals itself again.
The waves murmur at the feet of him who has been standing there listening, and he now glides down from the cliff to the opening in the rock. He creeps in at this opening, and on through the narrow passage to the cave, until he can stand upright. He now utters a cry, and his cry is answered in the distance. He stands still and leans against the wall of the cave, overwhelmed either with anxiety or happiness. It is with happiness, for he will find her: she has answered him.
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