CHAPTER VIII.

THE SULTAN.

On the day succeeding the hunting party, the Sultan, having taken his place in his audience-hall, with his secretaries and officials in attendance, directed Abd el Aziz to have the executioners in readiness; and then ordered Abdslem to be brought before him. He was accordingly brought in heavily ironed, from the prison where he had lain all night. The pain from the treatment his hands had undergone was becoming excruciating; but he forced his features to assume an expression of composure; which was undisturbed by the preparations he saw making by the executioner as he passed; and on which he depended for his success in escaping from punishment. As soon as he had been forced to bow down before the Sultan, and was allowed to stand, and before waiting for the usual permission to speak: "May our lord's life be prolonged. Is this," said he, lifting up his tortured hands in chains, "is this the reward of loyalty? Shall the breath of private slander deprive my lord of his most devoted slaves? Where are my accusers? What is my crime?" and he looked boldly round on the audience.

The Sultan being in possession of such glaring evidence of his guilt, was somewhat astonished at his assurance. "What mockery is this?" said he. "Is the slave mad? Read out this letter, that he and all may know that he dies with justice."

The Taleb, to whom the letter had been handed, opened the scroll, and read as follows:--

"In the name of the One God, the Merciful, peace and his blessing. To our friend Sidi Abdslem Ibn el Hadj, Marockshee. We have received and considered the words that you have sent us, requiring money to seduce the soldiers of your master the Sultan; time shall not be prolonged before you will be met by a faithful messenger: exert yourself, be faithful, and be assured of our friendship. Peace. This ---- day of Moharram, 1248." Attached was the seal of the Sheik of the Sebaïe.

A thrill ran through the assembly, as they listened to the perusal of this flagrant proof of guilt, and felt that his days were numbered. The Sultan had watched the prisoner's countenance, which did not appear to be disturbed by any conviction of guilt, but rather assumed an air of greater self-complacency.

"And is that, my lord," said he, "the crime that is laid to your slave's charge? Alas! for the dream of the seller of earthenware! On that letter I had built a vision of rewards and honours from the Khalifa, and behold what has befallen me! Let my lord slay me, if so it is written; but let my lord hear me alone--and your servant's innocence will be white, and my lord will hear matters of importance."

The Sultan was staggered; Abdslem had maintained his part with such coolness and confidence that the Sultan's curiosity was excited, though he never supposed he could explain away such convincing evidence. Fettered as he was he was harmless; and on a motion from the Sultan, the secretaries, officials, all, withdrew out of hearing, to the lower end of the hall, and Abdslem, kneeling at the border of the Sultan's carpet, on a motion to speak, proceeded as follows:--

"May my lord live for ever! It is now two months ago, that ever watchful to frustrate the designs of my lord's enemies, I noticed a trader, a man of suspicion, mixing with the soldiers; determined to know his object, I put myself in his way, and drew him into talk. I will not repeat his blasphemy against your highness, exalted of God; but pretending to be deceived, I lured him on, until he had the audacity to propose to me, on the part of an Arab Sheik, to corrupt my lord's servants from their allegiance, promising me rewards. I was immediately inspired with the design of entrapping the rebel Sheik, and placing him in my lord's power. I wrote a letter, to which that now read is an answer, and to ensure his coming, I asked for money, which he would either bring himself, or come with promises instead, for Arabs like not to part with their gold. The miscarriage of his letter has frustrated my plan, and, but for my lord's forbearance, must ere this have cost me my life. As it is, I have suffered; but it is in my lord's service. God is great! It was written."

This clever explanation of the affair, in which he appeared to be so seriously compromised, had gradually changed the Sultan's feelings towards him; but he remained for some minutes with his brows knit, his beard resting in his hand, and his eyes fixed on the prisoner's face, as though he would read his heart. "God is merciful," he said, at length. "This may be true, the All-knowing knows. Yes: you shall prove its truth. The Sheik will not know that his letter fell into our hands,--his messenger will come,--you will bring him before us. Thus shall you prove your truth. You are free! Guards there!" and half-a-dozen soldiers rushed in, expecting orders to drag Abdslem to his fate. "Knock off his fetters, and let his hands be released; he is free!"

Abdslem prostrated himself and kissed the earth, he was then led out by the soldiers, invoking blessings on the Sultan's clemency.

The Wezeer and secretaries now resumed their seats.

"I have intelligence from Algiers, O my lord," said the Wezeer.

"Speak, O Hadjie," said the Sultan.

"There has been a battle near Oujda on our borders, and the Emir Abd el Kader has beaten the infidels."

"May the infidels be accursed!" said the Sultan.

"The Ameer has sent a white female slave for the Sultan's hareem."

"The slave will be welcome," said the Sultan.

"God is great!" said the Wezeer, "but as my lord can see, the object of the Ameer is to embroil the Sultan with the French, and compel us to be his allies."

"Are we Algerines and sons of Othman that we should fear the infidels?" said the Sultan; "send a letter of thanks to the Ameer, and a present of steeds with embroidered trappings."

"My lord's will shall be obeyed," said the Wezeer. He then continued, "The French are strong in ships, O Sultan! and Suerah will be attacked by sea, and where will be my lord's revenues from the merchants? Moreover, the slave is not young, and has grey eyes, and red hair: by the side of the houris of Mequinez, she is an Afreet!"

"Let her be sent back!" exclaimed the Sultan: "why should we quarrel with the Francese? They can stop our commerce on the sea. Who is Abd el Kader that we should fight for him? Is he not a Berebber of the Kabyles? Send orders, O Wezeer, to the Kaïd of Oujda to resist any violation of our frontier."

"The Khalifa shall be obeyed," said the astute Wezeer.

He then took up another letter. "Here, O my lord," he said, "is news that war is about to break out between the Inglees and the Oroose; may the Beneficent give us peace."

"O Wezeer," said the Sultan, "what is that to us? let the infidels fight, what is that to the true believers? if the dog bite the pig, or the pig bite the dog, what is that to us? Are we not Moslemeen?" And he arose and broke up the audience.

Azora sat alone in a room in the women's apartments; it was furnished with carpets, ottomans, and cushions. At one end, a glass door opened into a garden, full of fruit-trees and flowers, but surrounded by high walls. An old woman to whose charge she had been consigned had selected the room for her, and treated her with every attention. Here, without altering her dress, she had snatched an unrefreshing sleep. She had received a communication from her mother,--for gold can open a Sultan's hareem--enjoining on her to gain time, by procrastination, to further the measures taken for her deliverance, and she naturally shrunk from hurrying on her own fate, if delay might be obtained without a sacrifice of principle. Her eyes were fixed on the walls of her prison, and she was absorbed in deep and painful thought on her unfortunate position and probable fate, when she was startled by the entrance of the Sultan. She immediately arose and stood by the door of the garden, involuntarily, from fear or humility, removing as far as possible from him.

"Have you an answer to my proposal, O light of my earth?" said he, approaching her with a smile.

"Alas, my lord!" said Azora, clasping her hands, "is justice dead? is there no condition of freedom but sinning against God, even the God of my fathers?"

"Talk not to me of gods," said he, impatiently; "my religion does not interfere with my pleasure; if it is to save you from danger, do not your priests teach you that compulsion is not sin? But why, O my beautiful, talk of sin?" he continued, in a winning tone. "Is it a crime to love? Can your gentle eyes spurn a Sultan from your feet? Drive me not to despair. Oh, if you would but adopt our holy faith, I, even I, would be your champion; and where would be the slave that would dare to think a thought to harm you? Oh, Azora! Azora! I have had no peace since I saw you; you are the sultana, I am the slave,--the victim. Oh, look on me at your feet, and have pity,--on yourself, on me!" He was on his knee, with his left hand he held her right, which was cold as marble, while the other was stretched out imploringly. There is no doubt he loved her, as much as a man so incapable by habit of real love could do. She was so different from the inmates of his hareem; many of these doubtless had beauty, but it was the difference of human beings reared in a torpid state of seclusion, and one who had been always free!--the fascination of intellect. Azora would not have been woman, had she not been deeply moved by this earnest appeal. To see him, before whom all men trembled, a suppliant at her feet, it was a fearful trial for human nature unaided. And she breathed an inward prayer for help. She dreaded the storm which she saw gathering, but felt more courage to brave his threats than his entreaties. Gently disengaging herself from his hands, she said,--

"O my lord, tempt me not. Let not my lord kneel to his servant; threaten me, torture me, but let not my lord talk of love. Do I not know the fate of a favourite,--the plaything of a day; thrown by to pine in neglect and solitude? And shall I not expect, and deserve, worse than these,--I, a despised renegade, a traitoress to my faith, surrounded by jealous enemies,--and forsaken by my God? No!" said she firmly, and looking up to heaven, "rather let me die at once, than die a thousand deaths by dragging out a degraded life of shame and remorse, to end in eternal ruin."

And now the storm burst; his love spurned and his power braved, it is not easy to describe the tumult of passion, the more fierce from being seldom roused, that raged in the Sultan's breast, on hearing this address. Love, revenge, fury, seized on him by turns, his emotions were too intense for utterance, but shown by the terrific working of his countenance; he bit his parched lip till the blood flowed, his eyes flashed fire, from under his dark stormy brow, and his frame trembled as if about to be overcome by a fit of insanity. While this hurricane lasted, the life of Azora, who stood terror-struck, hung by a frail thread. By a strong effort he gradually recovered his self-possession, and when he spoke it was with frightful calmness; his face was deadly pale as he turned to depart, "This, then, is your decision; you are prepared for the consequences?"

In her resolve not to compromise her principles, Azora had forgotten the necessity of obtaining delay; but having asserted these, she had now to risk the rectification of this omission.

"O my lord! be not hasty," she said, "let me have time to consider; perhaps--" but her voice faltered; "but--if I must--die--a few days or weeks will be a short preparation for eternity!"

The Sultan stopped, and fixed his eyes on her changing countenance, in which he thought he saw signs of her wavering, and his love prompted him to delay while any hope remained. He replied in his former calm tone, "Azora, I have granted your request; two weeks shall you have for reflection. If at the end of that time you still spurn my love, by the tomb of the Prophet! no power on earth shall save you."

He was gone. Azora remained gazing at the closed door; it was as a dream, the time had been so short which had transported her from her quiet home to be the inmate of a palace with her life in danger. Tears came to her relief, and she sought to realise her position; she was not left long, however, to indulge her grief, for soon after the Sultan's departure, she was surrounded by the ladies of the hareem, who led her away to their own rooms; and during the time that her fate was undecided, she was treated with the greatest kindness, attired in costly dresses, adorned with valuable jewels; and they endeavoured to amuse her with music and tale-tellers, leaving nothing untried to turn her from her purpose, and reduce her to their own state of captivity.