"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.
