CHAPTER XVI.

A FIGHT FOR HIS OWN HEAD.

At Buda, while Hassan Pasha was fighting with the army of the German Emperor, Yffim Beg was preparing the triumphal arches through which the victors were to pass on their return, adorning them with green branches and precious carpets, and leaving room for the standards to be captured from the Germans and Hungarians. The bridge was also repaired and strengthened to support the weight of the heavy gun-carriages and cannon which Montecuculi was to have abandoned, and at the same time a large space on the Rákás was railed in where all the slaves of all the nations, including women and children, were to be impounded.

And after all these amiable preparations the terrible message reached the worthy Yffim Beg from Hassan Pasha that he was to place all his movable chattels, gold and silver, on a fugitive footing, barricade the fortress, cut away the bridge so that the enemy might not be able to cross it, and follow him with the whole harem, beyond the Raab, for who could tell whether they would ever see the fortress of Buda again.

Yffim Beg was not particularly pleased with this message, but without taking long to think about it, he put the damsels of the harem into carriages, sent them off along the covered way adjoining the water-gate, in order to make as little disturbance as possible, and, as soon as they were on the other side of the bridge, ordered it to be destroyed and the garrison of the fortress to defend themselves as best they could.

He reached the Turkish army to find the opposing hosts drawn up against each other on different sides of the river, across which they bombarded each other from time to time, without doing much damage.

The Pasha's pavilion was well in the rear, out of cannon-shot; he was delighted when he saw Yffim Beg, and could not take his fill of kissing Azrael, who was lovelier and more gracious than ever.

"Remain here," he said to his favourites, embracing the pair of them. "I must retire now to the interior of my pavilion to pray for an hour or so with the dervishes, for a great and grievous duty will devolve upon me in an hour's time--two great Turkish nobles, Kucsuk Pasha and his son, are to be condemned to death."

Azrael started as violently as if a serpent had crept into her bosom.

"How have they offended?" she asked, scarce able to conceal her agitation.

"Against the precepts of the Prophet they engaged in battle on a day of ill-omen; they have cast dirt on the victorious half-moon, and must wash off the stain with their blood."

Hassan withdrew; Azrael remained alone in the tent with the Beg.

"I saw thee shudder," said Yffim, fixing his sharp eyes on the face of Azrael.

"Death chooses the thirteenth; he leaped past me at this very moment."

"And on whom has the fatal thirteen fallen?"

"On someone who stands beside me or behind me."

"Behind thee in the tent outside is Feriz Beg."

"But thou art beside me."

"I am too young to die yet."

"And is not he also?"

"He of whom Hassan saith: 'He hath sinned!' becomes old and withered on the spot."

"And hast thou done nothing for which thou shouldst die?"

"My beard will grow white because of my loyalty; life is long in the shadow of Hassan."

"But how long will Hassan have a shadow?"

"Till his night cometh--but that is still far off."

"Hast thou not heard of the case of Ajas Pasha, Yffim?--of Ajas, who was the mightiest of all the Pashas?"

"He was the Sultan's son-in-law."

"The Grand Seignior gave him his own daughter to wife, and loaded him with every favour. One day Ajas lost a battle against the Zrinyis. It was not a great defeat, but the Sultan was wrath and beheaded Ajas Pasha."

"H'm! I recollect, it was a sad story."

"And dost thou remember the story of the faithful Hiassar? Ajas charged him to bring to him before his death his favourite wife, not his whole harem which thou hast brought to Hassan Pasha, but only his favourite wife, that he might take leave of her; and dost thou know that for doing this thing the Sultan had Hiassar roasted to death in a copper ox? For a disgraced favourite possesses nothing--all he had is the Sultan's, his treasures, his wives and his children; and whoever lays his hand upon them is robbing the Sultan. Who knows, Yffim Beg, but what at this moment I may not be the Sultan's slave-girl? and from slave-girl to favourite is but a step, and thou knowest it would be but a short step for me."

"What accursed things thou art saying."

"The wife of Ajas Beg was the Sultan's favourite at the time when Hiassar was burnt, and a word from her would have saved him. But she said it not, because she was wrath with him; methinks the woman loved him once, and the slave despised her love. Give me my mandoline, Yffim, I would sing a song."

The odalisk lay back upon the bed, while Yffim anxiously paced to and fro like a hyena fallen into a snare. The story just related had a striking resemblance to his own, and it would not take very much to give it a similar termination.

Suddenly he stood before the damsel, who nonchalantly strummed the strings of her instrument.

"What dost thou want?"

"Ask not what thou knowest."

"Thou wouldst save Feriz?"

"I will save him."

"I swear by Allah it is not to be done. Die he must, if only to tame thee; for if he remain alive thou wilt destroy the lot of us sooner or later."

Azrael collapsed at the feet of the Beg. Sobbing, she embraced his knees.

"Oh, be merciful! Say but a word for him to the general. I love the youth as thou canst see and dost very well know. Do not let him perish!"

Like all little souls, Yffim Beg became all the bolder at these supplicating words, and seizing Azrael by the arms, roughly pulled her to her feet, and whispered in her ear with malicious joy:

"I'll make thee a present of his head."

At these words the woman raised her head, her eyes like those of a furious she-wolf seemed to glow with green fire, her tresses curled like serpents round her bosom. She said not a word, but her tightly clenched teeth kept back a whole hell of dumb fury.

At that moment the Vizier returned.

Azrael at once put on a smile. Hassan could not see what was seething in her heart.

Yffim approached the Pasha confidentially.

"Does the Sultan know of thy disaster?"

"He has heard it since."

"It would be as well to send me with gifts to the Porte."

"Ask not that honour for thyself, Yffim; learn, rather, that whomsoever I send to Stambul now is as good as sent to Paradise. The Sultan's wrath is kindled, and he can only quench it with blood."

All the blood quitted Yffim's own face.

"Then thou hast thy fears, my master?"

"His rage demands blood, and the blood of a great man, too. Which of us? That is all one, but a great man must die. If I cannot sacrifice someone in my place I shall perish myself, but there are men of equal value to myself from whom I can choose. There are two especially--Kucsuk and his son. They began the battle; if they had not begun it, there would have been no battle; and if there had been no battle, there would have been no disaster. They are Death's sons already. The third is the Prince of Moldavia. He was the first to fly from the fight; he had a secret understanding with the Christians. He is a son of Death also. I can throw in the Prince of Transylvania also, because he kept away from the battle altogether and was late with his tribute. Had he sent it sooner, we should have had money; and if we had had money, we should have been able to have bought hay; and if we had had hay the soldiers would not have hastened on the battle and so lost it. He also is a son of Death, therefore. Go thou into Transylvania and bring him hither to me."

Azrael listened to all this with great attention. Yffim Beg regarded her with a radiant countenance, as much as to say: "You see our heads won't ache yet!"

The odalisk, however, trembled no longer; she pressed her lips tightly together, and as if she was quite certain of what she was about to do, she pressed her sweetly smiling face close to that of the Vizier, and hanging on his arms, whispered to him:

"O Hassan, how my soul would rejoice if I could see flow the blood of thine enemies."

Hassan sat the damsel on his knees, and his lips sported with her twining tresses.

Yffim Beg was in such a mighty good humour at being commissioned by Hassan to go as ambassador to the Prince of Transylvania, and so blindly exalted by such a mark of confidence, that he fancied he could well afford to torment Azrael a little.

"Whilst thou wert away, my master," said he, "thy damsel implored me to grant her a favour, which I dare not do without first asking thy permission."

Azrael regarded the smiling Beg with sparkling eyes, anxiously awaiting what he would be bold enough to betray.

"What was it?--speak, Yffim Beg," remarked Hassan wildly.

"Thou and the other Pashas are about to condemn a youth to death--young Feriz Beg, I mean."

"Well?" said Hassan frowning, while the odalisk whom he held embraced trembled all over.

"Azrael would like to see the young man die."

The girl grew pale at these words; her heart for a moment ceased to beat, and then began fiercely to throb again.

"A foolish wish," said Hassan; "but if thou desire it, be it so! Be present at the meeting of the Pashas, stand behind the curtains by my side, and thou shalt hear and see everything."

Azrael imprinted a long and burning kiss on Hassan's forehead with a face full of death, and stood behind the curtain holding the folds together with her hands.

"If thou shouldst faint," whispered Yffim Beg sarcastically, "thou shalt have a vessel of musk from me."

Azrael laughed so loudly that Yffim fancied she must have gone mad.

"And now call the Pashas and draw the curtain of the tent," commanded Hassan.

At the invitation of Yffim all the officers of the camp came to the pavilion and took their seats in a circle on cushions. Last of all came the Grand Vizier, Kiuprile, a big, stout, angry man, who, without looking at anyone, sat down on the cushion beside Hassan and turned his back upon him.

Then the roll of drums was heard, and Kucsuk Pasha and Feriz Beg, well guarded, were brought in from different sides--Kucsuk on the left hand, and Feriz on the right.

"Look!" whispered Azrael to Hassan from behind the curtain; "look how proud they are, the son on the right, the father on the left. They seem to be encouraging each other with their glances."

Hassan nodded his head as if thanking his favourite for assisting his weak eyes, and as both figures came within the obscurity of the tent, where the light was not very good at the best of times, acting on the hint given, he turned towards the aged Kucsuk Pasha and cried:

"Thou immature youth, step back till I speak to thee."

Then, turning to young Feriz Beg, he said:

"Step forward, thou hardened old traitor! Wherefore didst thou leave the armies of the Sublime Sultan in the lurch?"

Feriz Beg, as if a weapon against his persecutors had suddenly been put into his hand, stepped boldly right up to Hassan Pasha, and exclaimed in a bold voice, which rang though the tent:

"Thou art the traitor, not I; for thou darest to hold the office of general when thou art blind and canst not distinguish two paces off father from son, or an enemy from a friend."

Hassan sprang in terror from his carpet when he heard Kucsuk's son speak instead of Kucsuk.

"That is not true," he stammered, changing colour.

"Not true!" replied Feriz stiffly; "then, if thine eyes be good, wilt thou tell me what regiment is now passing thy tent with martial music?"

The tent be it understood was open towards the plain overlooking the whole camp and the river beyond.

A military band was just then crossing the ground not far from the tent, quite alone; no regiment was coming after it.

"Methinks, thou mutinous dog, 'tis no answer to my question to inquire what regiment is now passing by, for it maybe that I know better than thou why it has arrived; nor is it part of my duty to mention the rabble by name; suffice it that I hear the trumpets and see the banners."

The Pashas looked at each other; there was neither regiment nor banners.

"So that's it, eh?" said Kiuprile, spitting in front of him; and with that he rose from his place, and, without looking at Hassan, took Kucsuk and Feriz by the arm. "Come!" said he to the other generals--"you can go now!" he cried to the guards, and the whole assembly withdrew from the tent.

Hassan fell back on his carpet. He himself had betrayed his great defect.

Azrael rushed from her hiding-place.

"Oh, my master!" she cried; "thou didst wrongly interpret my words, and so made everything go wrong."

"I am lost," he stammered, and quite beside himself he plunged into the interior of the tent to pray with the dervishes.

Yffim Beg stood there as if his soul had been filched from him; while Azrael approached him with a smile of devilish scorn and stroked his face down with her hand.

"Dost thou fancy thou wilt require another good word for thee?"

"I can betray thee."

"Thou couldst if thou didst but know which of the two is to live longest--Hassan or I."

* * * * *

Two hours after this scene there was a private conversation between Hassan Pasha and Yffim Beg, from which even Azrael was excluded. The interview over, Yffim Beg departed quickly from the camp. The general had sent him to Transylvania to go in his name from village to village to make a general inspection, and ask the magistrates why the common folks did not pay the taxes at the proper time. He was thence to go to the Prince and ask the cause of this delay in the transmission of taxes; thus either the people or the Prince would be held responsible. Hassan for a long time had had a scheme in his head of seizing Transylvania by force of arms, whereby, on the one hand, he would win the favour of the Porte, by adding a new subject state to Turkish territory, and, on the other hand, would secure for himself a good easy princely chair instead of a dangerously-jolting general's saddle.

At the same time Olaj Beg was worrying Apafi to seize the escaped Princess of Moldavia and send her to Hassan Pasha, who was well aware that the silken cord would be constantly dangling before his eyes till he had found someone else whose neck he could jeopardise instead of his own.

Kucsuk and his son had escaped from his talons, but he had just heard from Olaj Beg that the Moldavian Princess was with Apafi, and in an interesting condition, so that there was every prospect of a young Prince being born. Here, then, in case of necessity, was a person who could be handed over, and in case she escaped, the silken cord would remain round Apafi's neck.

A few days after the departure of Yffim Beg, peace was hastily concluded between the Porte and the King of the Romans. In consequence thereof Hassan avoided a collision with the other generals, and, quitting them, hastened back to Buda with his army. Kiuprile marched right off to Belgrade, Kucsuk was dispatched to the fortress of Szekelyhid; only Feriz remained at Buda, for the simple reason that he was confined to his bed by a feverish cold in a kiosk, which was erected for him by the express command of Kiuprile.

Just about this time Azrael had an excess of devotion, and was constantly plagued by terrifying dreams in which she saw Hassan Pasha walking up and down without his head, and every morning she got leave from him to pay a visit to an old dervish to pray against the apparition of evil spirits. Hassan was much affected by this devotion towards him and true Mussulman fervour, and made no opposition to his favourite damsel going every morning to the mosque to pray, and only returning from thence late every evening; but he impressed it upon her suite to keep a watchful eye upon the girl lest she should deceive them. They therefore permitted pious Azrael to visit the worthy dervish so wrapped up that only her eyes were visible, and soon afterwards saw her return with the gracious old man. The dervish had a white beard and white eyebrows, as if he were well frosted; his eyes were cast down, and he wore such a frightfully big turban that not even the tips of his ears were visible. He was also not very lavish of speech, dumbly he pointed out to the veiled damsel the great clasped book and she knelt down before it and began to read with edifying devotion, touching it from time to time with her forehead; while the dervish, raising his hand, blessed one by one the slaves standing outside the door, and, after indicating by dumb show that he must now go to the kiosk where the sick Feriz Beg was lying and cure him by the efficacy of his prayers, he hobbled away.

All four slaves glued their faces to the iron lattice work of the door, thrust their cheeks between its ornaments, and saw how the kneeling damsel kept praying all the time before the large open book. She must have had an unconscionable fondness for prayer, for even when the evening grew late she had not moved from the spot till the dervish, leaning on his crutch, came hobbling back from Feriz Beg. Then she accompanied him into the interior of the mosque, and after a short hymn, returned to make her way back to the fortress.

And thus it went on for ten days. The slaves of her escort now began to think that Azrael wanted to learn the Koran by heart and grew tired of watching her praying and bowing and genuflecting with unwearied devotion.

Let us leave them gazing and marvelling, and seek out Feriz Beg, whom now, as at other times, the old dervish was tending.

There sat the good old man by the bedside of the pale and handsome youth. Nobody else was in the room. With his hand he dried the dripping sweat from the youth's forehead, every hour he put red healing drops into his mouth with a golden spoon, he guessed what was wanted immediately from every sigh, from every groan of the invalid. When he slept he fanned fresh air upon him, when he woke and stretched forth his burning hands, he felt the throbbing pulse and comforted and soothed him with gentle and consolatory words; and if he flung about impatiently in the fever of delirium, he covered him up carefully, like a tender mother, moistened his lips with fresh citron-water; and if he perceived from his flushed face how he was suffering he would raise his head, and press his burning temples to his bosom.

On the tenth day the youth's illness took a turn for the better. Early in the morning, when he awoke, he had a clear consciousness of his condition.

There by the side of his bed still sat the old man with his eyes fixed on the youth's face.

"So thou hast been my nurse, eh?" sighed the youth gratefully, and he extended his hand to take that of the dervish, and he respectfully impressed upon it a long burning kiss, closing his eyes piously as he did so.

And when he again opened his eyes, holding continually the kissed hand between his own hands, behold! by his bedside no longer sat the old dervish, but a young and tremulous damsel, with black tresses rolling down her shoulders, with a blushing face and timidly smiling lips--it was Azrael.

Feriz fancied that he was the sport of some delirious dream or enchantment, and only when he looked about him in his bewilderment and perceived the cast-off false beard and turban and the other lying symbols of age, did he regain his presence of mind; and immediately the expression of gratitude and devotion disappeared from the face of Feriz Beg, his features took in a rigorous expression and he withdrew his hand from the pressure of those other hands. Speak he could not, both mind and body were too much broken for that; but he pointed to the door and signified to the damsel in dumb show that she was to withdraw.

"Thou knowest me, for thou hatest me," stammered Azrael; "if thou didst not know me thou wouldst not hate me, and if thou didst know me better thou wouldst love me."

The youth shook his head.

"Then--thou--lovest--another?" said the trembling girl.

Feriz Beg nodded: yes.

Azrael rose from her place as if some venomous spider had bitten her, her face was convulsed by a burning grief, she pressed her hands to her bosom; then slowly her form lost all its proud rigidity, and her eyes their savage brightness, her features softened, and collapsing before the bed of the youth she hid her face in his pillows and murmured in a scarce audible voice: "And therefore I love thee all the more."

Then, resuming her disguise, she calmly piled upon herself all the tokens of old age till once more before the sick man stood the gentle honest dervish who hobbled away on his crutches, blessing everyone he encountered till he returned again to the mosque.

After Azrael had withdrawn, Feriz at once dismissed the dervish, who, at the youth's command, confessed everything to him. The general's favourite damsel, he said, had come to the mosque to pray ten days ago and had changed garments with him in his hiding-place in order to tend the dear invalid all day long while the dervish, enwrapped in her veil, had prayed in the sight of the slaves.

Feriz Beg threatened the dervish with death if he did not confess everything, and, as it became a true cavalier, richly rewarded him when he had revealed the secret intrigue, forbidding him at the same time to assist it any further.

* * * * *

Several days had passed by.

Hassan Pasha spent his days in the mosque, and his nights behind the trellised gates of his harem; he scented an evil report in every new arrival, and avoided all intercourse with his fellows. The whole day he was praying, the whole night he was drunk; from morning to evening he was occupied with the priests and the Koran, and from the evening to the morning he amused himself among his damsels, listened to their songs, bathed in ambergris-water, drank wine mingled with poppies, and had his body rubbed with cotton-wool that he might sleep and be in paradise.

Frequently he had bad dreams, an evil foreboding, like the pressure of a night-hag, lay upon his heart, and when he awoke he seemed to see it all vividly before his eyes and durst not sleep any more, but dressed himself, sought out the room of Azrael and made the damsel sit down beside him and amuse him with merry stories.

The odalisk held unlimited sway over the mind of Hassan, and could, at will, tune his mind to a good or evil humour by anticipating his thoughts. The Pasha trusted her implicitly.

It is a bad old custom with oriental potentates to go to bed fuddled and dream all manner of nonsense, and then incontinently to demand a clear interpretation of the nebulous stuff from their wise men--or wise women.

This happened to be the case one morning with Hassan Pasha and Azrael who just then was watering with a silver watering-can a gorgeous gobæa, whose luxurious offshoots clambered like a living ladder to the roof of the greenhouse, thence casting down to the ground again tendrils as thick as ropes.

"Last night I was dreaming of this very plant that thou dost nourish in yon large tub," said Hassan in a voice that sounded as if he thought it an extraordinary thing to be listening to his own words. "I dreamt that it put forth a long and flowery shoot which grew into a tall tree, and from the end of one of the branches of this tree hung a large yellow fruit. Then I thought I had some important and peculiar reason for breaking off the fruit, and I sent a big white-bearded ape up into the tree to fetch it. The ape reached the fruit, and for a long time plucked at it and shook it, but was unable to break it off. At last, however, he fell down with it at my feet, the golden fruit burst in two, and a red apple rolled out of it, and I picked them both up and was delighted. What does that signify?"

Azrael kept plucking the yellow leaves off her dear plant and throwing them through the window, beckoned to the Pasha to sit down beside her, and tapping him on the shoulder, began to tick off the events on her pretty fingers.

"The golden fruit is the Moldavian Princess, and the white ape thou didst send for her is none other than Olaj Beg. Thy dream signifies that the Beg is about to arrive with the Princess, who in the meantime has borne a son, and thou wilt rejoice greatly."

Hassan was well content with this interpretation, when a eunuch entered and brought him a sealed letter on a golden salver. It was from the Pasha of Grosswardein.

The letter was anything but pleasant. Ali Pasha begged to inform the Vizier that the Government of Transylvania, having delivered Mariska Sturdza into the hands of Olaj Beg, the Beg at once set off with her, and had got as far as Királyhágó, when some persons hidden in the forest had suddenly rushed out upon him, massacred his suite to the last man, and left the Princess' carriage empty on the high road. The Princess had in all probability been helped to rejoin her husband in Poland.

The letter fell from the hand of Hassan Pasha.

"Thou hast interpreted my dream backwards," he roared, turning upon Azrael; "everything has turned topsy-turvy. The ape descended from the tree with the fruit, but knocked his brains out."

At that moment the door-keeper announced: "Olaj Beg has arrived with the Moldavian Princess."

At these words Hassan Pasha, in the joy of his heart, leaped from his cushions, and after kissing Azrael over and over again, rushed forward to meet Olaj Beg, and meeting him in the doorway, caught him round the neck and exclaimed, beside himself with joy:

"Then my ape has not knocked his brains out, after all!"

Olaj Beg smilingly endured the title and the embrace, but on looking around and perceiving Azrael standing in the window he began doing obeisance to her with the greatest respect.

"Hast thou brought her? Where is she? Thou hast not lost her, eh? Thou hast well looked after her?" asked Hassan in one breath.

By this time Olaj Beg had bowed his head down to his very knees before the damsel, and was saying to her in a mollified voice:

"May I hope that the beautiful Princess will not find it tiresome if we talk of grave affairs in her presence?"

Azrael at once perceived the object of all this bowing and scraping. Olaj Beg wished her to withdraw.

"Thou mayest speak before me, worthy Olaj Beg, though what thou art about to say is no secret to me, for I can read the future, and my secrets I tell to none."

And now Hassan intervened.

"Thou mayest speak freely before her, worthy Olaj Beg. Azrael is the root of my life."

Olaj Beg made another deep and long obeisance.

He had heard enough of that name to need no further recommendation. He made up his mind on the spot to tell Hassan, who was in the power of this infernal woman, no more than he deserved to know.

"Then thou hast brought the Princess with thee?" insisted Hassan, whose joy beamed upon his face in spite of himself. "Did the Transylvanian gentlemen make much difficulty in handing her over?"

"They handed her over, but it would have been very much better if they had not. I should have preferred it if they had risen in her behalf, stirred up all Klausenberg against me and beaten me to death. At any rate, I should then have died gloriously. But alas! the Magyar race is degenerating, it has begun to be sensible. Those good old times have gone when they used to fire a whole village for the sake of a runaway female slave; and it was possible to seize a whole county in exchange for one burnt village; if the Hungarian gentry continue to be as wise as they are now the younger generation of them may strike root in our very Empire."

"I was alarmed on thy account, for I have just received a letter from the Pasha of Grosswardein, in which he informed me that certain persons had attacked the Princess's escort at Királyhágó and cut them down to a man."

"I anticipated that," replied Olaj Beg slily. "When with much shedding of tears they handed the Princess over to me, I heard them whisper in her ear: 'Fear nothing!' and I well understood from that that those same gentlemen who in the council chamber, with wise precautions, resolved to deliver up the fugitive Princess, had agreed among themselves over their cups at dinner-time that as I left Transylvania they would lie in wait for, fall upon me, and liberate and take away with them the Princess whom, by the way, they did not deliver over immediately, giving out that she was sick and suffering torments. While I was awaiting her recovery, nobody but her ladies was allowed admittance to her, and as soon as she was on her legs again, I made all my preparations for the journey next day, marshalling all the carriages and baggage-wagons in the courtyard. I myself, however, got into a sorry matted conveyance with the Princess and her child, and set off the same night in the direction of Déva. My suite, with the empty carriages, was to follow next morning in the direction of Grosswardein. The masked men cut them down as arranged, but the Princess and her son were in safe hands all the time. Olaj Beg is an old fox, and a fox knows his way about."

Hassan Pasha rubbed his hands delightedly.

"Nevertheless," continued Olaj Beg, "imagine not, my good general, that because this woman is now in thy hands thou wilt be able to keep her. Sleeplessness will enter thy house as soon as thou hast admitted her within thy doors. If it be hard to guard any woman, it will be particularly hard to guard this one. The men and women of a whole kingdom have sworn to set her free by force or fraud, and will use every effort to do so. They will open thy bedroom doors with skeleton keys, they will dig beneath thy cellars, they will strew sleeping powder in thy evening potions, they will corrupt thy most faithful servants, and if no other poison make any impression upon thee they will pour into thy heart the most potent of all poisons, the tears of a supplicating woman. I have brought the treasure, and I deliver it into thy hands. Allah requites me for my pains by taking her from me. Thou art now her guard, conceal her as best thou canst. Thy greatest worry will be that thou canst not slay her, for indeed she were best hidden beneath the ground. But thou art to see to it that she is delivered alive into the hands of the Sultan's envoys, for shouldst thou kill her thyself be sure thou wilt soon feel the silken cord around thine own neck. Meanwhile, peace be with thee and to all who abide in the shadow of the Prophet!"

With these words Olaj Beg stepped into the adjoining room, and leading in the Princess, placed her hand in the hand of Hassan; then he raised his eyes to Heaven.

"Allah is my witness," said he, "that I have delivered her and her child into thy hands!"

In the first moment Hassan Pasha was amazed at the woman's loveliness, and thought with regret that it was necessary for his own safety that she must die.

Olaj Beg, however, had yet another piece of good advice to impart, and, with that object, drew nigh to him to whisper in his ear; but, as if his courage failed him at the last moment, he delivered his sentiments in the Arabic tongue.

"Thou wouldst guard this woman best if thou tookest her child from her and locked it up separately. The mother certainly would not escape without the child."

The Princess Ghyka did not understand these words, but she saw how the old fox indicated her little one with a glance and with what a greedy look Hassan regarded it; and she pressed the child all the closer to her bosom as she saw him come a step closer. The unhappy woman trembled when she saw Hassan smile upon the child like a hungry wolf would smile if he encountered it on his path. She guessed from their play of feature the terrible idea which the two men were discussing in a foreign tongue, and in her despair cast her eyes upon Azrael, as if hoping that she would find a response to her agony in a woman's heart.

The odalisk pretended she had not observed the look, as if those present were not worthy of the slightest attention from her; when, however, Hassan gratefully embraced the Beg for this fresh piece of advice, Azrael intervened with a peculiar smile.

"Thou dost act like one who, bending beneath the weight of a burden too heavy for him, would pass it on to his neighbour."

Hassan looked at his favourite damsel inquiringly, while Olaj Beg, who was unaccustomed to hear women talk at all when men were holding counsel together, looked back with offended surprise over his shoulder.

Azrael reclined lazily back upon her cushions, and swung one leg over her knee as she conversed with the two men.

"Worthy Hassan," said she, "thou wouldst make two troubles out of one, if thou didst separate thy captives; while thou keepest thine eye on one of them, they will steal away the other behind thy back."

Hassan cast a troubled look upon Olaj Beg, who stroked his long white beard and smiled.

"If thou dost permit thy damsels to ask questions, thou must needs answer them," said he.

At these words Azrael leaped from her place and boldly approached the two men, her flaming black eyes measured the Beg from head to foot, and when she spoke it was with a determined, startling voice.

"Listen to me, Hassan--yes, I say, thou shouldst listen to me before all thy friends just because I am a woman. A man can only give advice, but a woman loves, and before a man thinks of danger a woman already sees it coming from afar, and while a man may grow into a crafty old fox, a woman is born crafty. Hassan knows very well that of all those who wear a mask of friendship for him, there is but one on whom he can absolutely rely, whose love all the treasures in India can as little destroy as they can lull her hatred asleep, who watches over him while he sleeps, and if she sleeps is dreaming of his destiny--that person am I."

Hassan confirmed the words of the damsel by throwing his arm round her shoulders and drawing her towards him.

"If this woman requires a sleepless, uncorruptible guardian," continued Azrael, "I will be that guardian. Make for us a long chain, and let one end of it be fastened to my arm and the other to her girdle. Thus the slave will be chained to the jailer, and, sleeping or waking, will be unable to escape from me. I shall be a good janitor. I will not let her, or her child, out of my hands."

The damsel accompanied these words with such an infernal smile that Olaj Beg involuntarily edged away from her; while Hassan was enchanted by this noble specimen of loyalty. But Mariska's face was bright and resigned again, for she understood from the words of the odalisk, threatening as they were, that she and her child were not to be separated, and to all else she was indifferent.

Olaj Beg drew the folds of his caftan over his lean, dry bosom, and after peering at the two women, remarked to Hassan:

"'Tis well thou canst trust a woman to look after a woman."

With that he backed out of the room, blessing all four corners of it as he went, and in the gateway distributed with great condescension to every one of the servants who had done anything for him some money ingeniously twisted up in pieces of paper (which, by the way, were found to contain a half-penny each when at last unfolded), and sitting in his mat-covered carriage, gave strict orders to the coachman not to look back till he saw the citadel of Buda.

But Hassan the same hour sent for his goldsmith, and bade him prepare immediately a silver chain, four yards long, with golden shackles at each end, for Azrael and Mariska. The goldsmith took the measure of the hands of the two damsels, and brought in the evening a chain made of beaten silver, whose shackles were fastened by masterly-constructed padlocks, which Hassan himself fastened on the hands of the damsels, thrusting the key which opened the padlocks into his girdle, which he tapped a hundred times a day to discover whether it was still there or not. Then he dismissed the pair of them into Azrael's dormitory. Mariska endured everything--the chain, the shame, and rough words--for the privilege of being able to embrace her child. She lay down content on the carpets as far from Azrael as the chain would permit it, and folding her hands above the baby's innocent head, prayed with burning devotion to the God of mercy, and calmly went to sleep holding the child in her arms.

* * * * *

A little beyond midnight the child began softly wailing. At the first sound of its crying Mariska awoke, and as she moved her hand the chain rattled. Azrael was instantly alert.

"Hast thou had evil dreams?" inquired the odalisk of Mariska; "the rattling of the chain aroused me."

"The weeping of my child awoke me," said Mariska softly; and drawing the little one to her bosom, as it embraced its mother's beautiful velvet breast with its chubby little finger, and drank from the sweetest of all sources the draught of life, the young mother gazed upon it with unspeakable joy, smiled, laughed, caught the child's rosy little fingers in her mouth, and implanted resounding kisses on its rosy, chubby cheeks. She had no thought at that moment for chain and dungeon.

Azrael felt in her heart the torments of the demons--it was that jealousy which those who are rocked in the lap of happiness feel at the sight of a luckless wretch who is happier than they are in spite of all his wretchedness.

"Wherefore dost thou rejoice?" she asked, gazing upon the lady with the eyes of a serpent.

"Because my child is with me."

"But the whole world has abandoned thee."

"It is more to me than the whole world."

"More than thy husband?"

Mariska reflected for a moment, and then, instead of replying, hugged the child still closer to her bosom and imprinted a kiss upon its forehead.

"Wert thou ever a mother?" she asked Azrael in her turn.

"Never," stammered the odalisk, and involuntarily her bosom heaved beneath a sigh.

It was plain from the face of Mariska how much she pitied this poor woman. Azrael perceived the look, and it wounded her that she should be pitied.

"Dost thou not know that both of you must die?" she asked with a darkened countenance.

"I am ready."

"And art thou not terrified at the thought? They will strangle thy child with a silken cord, and hang it dead upon thy breast, and then they will strangle thee likewise, and put you both in the grave, in the cold earth."

"We shall see each other in a better world," said Mariska with fervent devotion.

"Where?" inquired the astounded Azrael.

Mariska, with holy confidence, raised her little one in her arms, and, lifting her eyes, said: "God will take us unto Himself."

"And what need hath God of you?"

"He is the Father of those who suffer, and in the other world He rewards those who suffer grief here below."

"And who told thee this?"

Mariska, as one inspired, placed her hand upon her heart and said: "It is written here!"

Azrael regarded the woman abashed. Truly, many mysterious words are written in the heart, why cannot everyone read them? She also had listened to such mystic voices, but they were words shouted in a desert, in her savage breast there was no manner of love which could interpret their meaning.

Mariska again put down her child on the edge of the cushion.

"Place not thy child there," cried Azrael impatiently; "it might easily fall, place it between us!"

Mariska accepted the offer, and placed the little one between herself and Azrael.

When the first ray of dawn penetrated the large window Mariska awoke, and, folding her hands together above the head of the little child, again began to pray.

Azrael looked on darkly.

"Dost thou never pray?" said Mariska, turning towards her.

"Why should women pray? Their destiny is not in their own hands. Their fate depends upon their masters; if their masters are happy, they are happy also; if their masters perish, they perish with them. This is their earthly lot--and that is all. Allah never gave them a soul--what have they to do with the life beyond this? In Paradise the Houris take their places and the Houris remain young for ever. The breath of a woman vanishes with the autumn mist like the fumes of a dead animal, and Allah has no thought for them."

Mariska, with only half intelligible sorrow, looked at this woman who wished to seem worse than she really was.

Azrael crept closer up to her.

"And dost thou really believe that there is someone who listens to what the worms say, to what the birds twitter, and to what women pray?"

"Certainly," replied the young Christian woman; "turn to Him, and thou wilt feel for thyself His goodness."

"How can it be so? Why should He pay any attention to me?"

"It is not enough I know to clasp thy hands and close thy eyes. Thy petition must come straight from thy heart, and thy soul must believe that it will gain its desire."

Azrael's face flushed red. Hastily she cast herself down on her knees on the carpet, and pressing her folded hands to her bosom, stammered in a scarce audible voice:

"God! grant me one moment in my life in which I can say: I am happy."

Her eyes were still closed when the door of the dormitory opened, and Hayat, the oldest duenna of the harem, entered with an air of great secrecy. She was now a shrivelled up bundle of old bones, but formerly she had been the first favourite of Hassan Pasha, and now she was the slave and secret confidante of all the favourites in turn.

Azrael leaned towards her, perceiving from the face of the duenna that she brought some message for her; whereupon the latter advanced and, looking around in case anyone should be lurking there, whispered some words in Azrael's ear.

On hearing these words the odalisk leaped from her seat with a face flushed with joy, while unspeakably tender tears trembled in her eyes. Her hands were involuntarily pressed against her heaving bosom, and her lips seemed to murmur some voiceless prayer.

Some great unusual joy had come upon her, some joy which she had always longed but never dared to hope for. Scarce able to restrain herself she turned towards her comrade, who, after listening to her, gazed wonderingly at her and pressed her hand, exclaiming in a voice of strong conviction: "Then it is true, our prayer has indeed been heard!"

Azrael began merrily putting on her garments, and helped Mariska also to dress; then she sent the duenna with a message to Hassan. She must go again to the mosque of the old dervish to pray, for she had been dreaming of Hassan.

Soon afterwards Hassan himself came to her, took from her arm the golden shackle which fastened the chain that bound her to Mariska, and, ordering her palanquin to be brought up to the door, sent her away to the old dervish; while, seizing the end of the Princess's chain, he led her, together with her child, into his own apartments and there sat down on his cushions, drawing his rosary from his girdle and mumbling the first prayers of the naáma, constantly holding in his hand the end of the Princess's chain.

The Vizier had of late been much given to prayer, for since the lost battle not a soul had come to visit him. The envoys of the Sultan, the country petitioners, the foreign ministers, the begging brotherhoods, all of them had avoided his threshold as if he were dead.

The first day he was painfully affected by this manifestation, but on the second day he commanded the door-keepers to admit none to his presence. Thus, at any rate, he could make himself believe that if nobody came to visit him it was by his express command.

He knew right well that a sentence of death had been written down and that this sentence was meant for one of two persons, either the Princess or himself, where their two shadows mingled a double darkness was cast, and Israfil, the Angel of Death, stood over them with a drawn sword.

Hassan knew this right well, and he pressed in his hand convulsively the silver chain to which his prisoner was attached, that prisoner whom he regarded as the ransom for his own life.