Part 14 (1/2)
The Viziers rushed at him with a howl of fury, but Morrison merely threw back the caftan which had been folded across his breast, revealing his dreaded uniform and the decorations appended thereto--memorials of his services at Alexandria and Trafalgar. That, he thought, would quite suffice to preserve him from any violence.
But the Sultan leaped down from his throne, beckoned with his hand to the Viziers, and whispered some words in the ear of the Kislar-Agasi, who thereupon withdrew. This whispered word went the round of the Viziers, who straightway did obeisance and disappeared in three different directions through the three doors of the room, their places being taken by two black slaves in red fezes and white robes, with broad-bladed, crooked swords in their hands. Only the Sultan remained behind there with the sailor.
The clocks in the rooms of the Seraglio struck a quarter to ten. The pen of the dervish in reply to the question of the favorite as to how many hours she had to live now wrote down ”.”
At that moment the Kislar-Agasi entered. The favorite went to meet him, trembling like a lost lamb coming face to face with a wolf.
The Kislar-Agasi bowed deeply, and beckoned to the serving-women of the Seraglio standing behind him to come forward.
”Has the Sultana accomplished the prescribed ablutions?” said he.
”Yes, my lord!”
”Gird her round the body with a triple row of pearls; fasten on her turban the bird of paradise with the diamond clasp. Put on her gold embroidered caftan.”
The favorite let them do what they would with her without saying a word.
The waiting-woman, covering the favorite's face with a light fan, thickly sewn with tiny gold stars, conducted her to the door which led to the Porcelain Chamber, and there the Kislar-Agasi left her, after indicating whither they had to go next.
Guards stood in couples before each one of the doors; the last door they came to was only protected by a curtain. This was the door of the cupola chamber where the Sultan had received the sailor.
The favorite could not see the sailor because of the lofty projecting wings of the throne; she only saw the Sultan sitting on a divan. She hastened up to him, and when she stood before him she suddenly caught sight of the stranger regarding her with coldly curious eyes.
Shrinking away with terror, she screamed out ”Giaour!” and, wrapping her veil more closely around her, turned to the Sultan for protection.
Then Mahmoud seized the damsel's trembling hand with one of his, and with the other raised the veil from the face of his dearest wife in the presence of the stranger.
The girl shrieked as if her face had been bitten by a serpent; then she fell at the knees of the Sultan, and looked at the face of the Grand Signior with an appealing glance for mercy. In the eyes of the caliph of caliphs the moisture of human compa.s.sion sparkled. Poor Sultana! who would not have pitied her?
Morrison made a courtly bow, and the dragoman not being present, he expressed his thanks by using the well-known Turkish salutation, ”Salam alak.u.m!” The extraordinary charms of the damsel made no more impression upon him than the sight of any ordinarily pretty lady at a court presentation at home would have done.
The damsel meanwhile writhed in torments at the feet of the Sultan, who, having had enough of it himself, covered her with her veil, and beckoned to the Kislar-Agasi. He raised the damsel, and carried her behind the curtains that surrounded the throne; the same instant the two eunuch guards standing beside the throne also disappeared.
The Sultan listened and covered his eyes.
After a few moments of deep silence, it seemed to the sailor as if he heard a long sigh behind the curtains. The Sultan s.h.i.+vered in every limb, and immediately afterwards the clocks in the Seraglio began to strike; they struck eleven.
Then the Sultan arose from his place and said, with a deep sigh:
”'Twas the will of Allah!” Then he descended from the divan and said to Morrison in the purest Italian, ”Thou didst see her; was she not beautiful?”
Morrison, astonished to hear Italian spoken by the Sultan, who, as a rule, never spoke a word save through an interpreter, in his amazement could not find an answer to this question quick enough.
”Come now and see her once more,” continued the Grand Signior, and with these words he went towards the curtains.
Morrison fell back confounded. The rosy-red damsel of a few moments before lay there pale, lifeless, at full length, her lips and eyes closed, her bosom motionless. A thin red line was visible round her beautiful white neck--the mark of the silken cord!
”But this is brutal!” exclaimed the sailor, beside himself with indignation.