CHAPTER XVIII.

SPORT WITH A BLIND MAN.

Azrael had felt afraid when Hassan said: "I must kill this woman to-day." A fearful spectre was haunting the mind of the Vizier; he must be freed from this spectre, and made to forget it.

So Azrael devised an odd sport for the man on the verge of imbecility.

The seven days had passed during which Hassan had forbidden that anyone should be admitted to his presence, and it occurred to Azrael that in the ante-chamber crowds of brilliant envoys, and couriers, and supplicants were waiting, all eagerly desirous of an audience, many of them with rich gifts; others came to render homage, others with joyful tidings from the seat of war; whilst one of them had come all the way from the Grand Vizier with a very important message from the Sultan himself.

Hassan's stupid mind brightened somewhat at these words, a fatuously good-natured smile lit up his face.

"Let them come in, let them appear before me," he said joyfully to the girl; "and remain thou beside me and introduce them to me one by one; thine shall be the glory of it."

But in reality none was awaiting an audience in the ante-room, there were no splendid envoys there, no humble petitioners, no agas, no messengers, none but the Vizier's own slaves.

But these Azrael dressed up one by one to look like splendid magnates, village magistrates, and soldiers; put sealed letters, purses, and banners in their hands, and placing Hassan in the reception-room on a lofty divan, sat down with the Princess on stools at his feet, and ordered the door-keepers to admit the disguised slaves one by one.

The mockery was flagrant, but was there among them all any who dared to enlighten Hassan? Who would undertake to undeceive him when a mere nod from Azrael might annihilate before the Vizier could realise that they were making sport of him? It was a fleet-winged demon fooling a sluggish mammoth with strength enough to crush her but with no wings to enable it to get at her, and the rabble always takes the part of the mocker, not of the mocked, especially if the former be lucky and the latter unlucky.

The loutish slaves came one by one into the room, and Hassan turned his face towards them, remaining in that position while Azrael told him who they were and what they wanted.

"This is Ferhad Aga," said the odalisk, pointing at a stable-man, "who, hearing of thy martial prowess in all four corners of the world has come hither begging thee with veiled countenance to include him among thy armour-bearers."

Hassan most graciously extended his hand to the stable-man and granted him his petition.

Azrael next presented to Hassan a cook from a foreign court, who, dressed in a large round mantle of cloth of silver, might very well have passed for a burgomaster of Debreczen, and whose shoulders bent beneath the weight of two sacks of gold and silver from Hassan's own treasury.

"This is the magistrate of the city of Debreczen," said the odalisk, "who hath brought thee a little gift in the name of the municipality, with the petition that when thou dost become the Pasha of Transylvania thou wilt not forget them."

Hassan smiled at the word money, had the sacks placed before him, thrust his arms into them up to his very wrists with great satisfaction, had their contents emptied at his feet, and dismissed the envoy with a hearty pressure of the hand.

And now followed a negro, who brought some recaptured Turkish banners from the bed of a river which did not exist, in which the Turks had drowned the whole army of Montecuculi.

Hassan was now in such a weak state of mind that he no longer recognised his own people in their unwonted garments, and the more extraordinary the things reported to him the more readily he believed them.

And so Azrael kept on exhibiting to him envoys, couriers, and captains till, at last, it came to the turn of the envoy of the Grand Vizier, whose part the odalisk had entrusted to a clever eunuch who had been instructed to present to Hassan a sealed firman, which Azrael was to read because Hassan could not see the letters. It was to the effect that Hassan was to endeavour to preserve the life of the captive Princess, as the Grand Vizier himself intended in a few days to take her over alive.

When thus it seemed good to Azrael that the most striking scene of the whole game should begin she exclaimed in a loud voice to the door-keepers:

"Admit the ambassador of the Grand Vizier with the message from the Sublime Padishah!"

The guards drew back the curtains and in came--Olaj Beg!

"Truly I must needs admit," said he turning towards the odalisk, who stood there petrified with fear and amazement, "truly I must admit that thou art blessed with the faculty of seeing through walls and reading fast-closed letters, for thou hast announced me before I appeared officially and thou hast seen the firman hidden in my bosom before I have had time to produce it."

Azrael arose. She felt her blood throbbing in her brain for terror. At that moment she had that keen sensation of danger when every atom of the body--heart, brain, hands, and the smallest nerve--sees, hears, and thinks.

"Thou hast brought the firman of the Sultan?" she inquired of Olaj Beg with wrapt attention.

"Thou knowest also what is written in it, O enchantress!" said Olaj, in a tone of homage, "therefore ask not."

There was something in the yellow face of Olaj Beg which made him most formidable, most menacing at the very time when he seemed to be utterly abject in his humility.

"What doth the Sublime Sultan command?" inquired Hassan, gazing abstractedly in front of him.

"That thou prepare a scaffold in the courtyard of thy palace by to-morrow morning."

"For whom?" inquired Hassan in alarm. It was curious that it was he who trembled at this word, and not the Princess.

"That is the secret of to-morrow. Thou shalt break open and read this firman to-morrow, in it thou wilt find who is to die to-morrow."

At these words Olaj Beg looked at the faces of all who were present, as if he would read their innermost thoughts, but in vain. He recognised none of those on whom his eyes fell. Although many of them seemed to be great men he could not remember meeting any of them in the Empire of the Grand Turk; and the face of Azrael was as cold and motionless as marble, he could read nought from that.

But Azrael had already read the sealed firman through the eyes of Olaj Beg.

She had read it, and it said that if by to-morrow morning the Princess was not set free then the scaffold would be erected for her, but if she had escaped, then it would be raised for Hassan and for whomsoever had set her free.

"I must hasten to set her free," she thought.