Part 21 (1/2)
”And what conclusion could Ibrahim draw from that?”
But this Valentine would not tell her.
Jigerdilla, however, helped him out.
”He might have thought,” continued she, ”that I belong more to you than to him. And why, indeed, might I not belong wholly to you?”
”Because you are his.”
”It is true. He bought me for five hundred ducats; but if you gave him one thousand ducats for me he would hand me over to you, for he is greedy, and fond of money.”
Valentine laughed heartily at these words.
”Whence would a poor devil like me get one thousand ducats?”
”Wait a bit, and I'll tell you something which I've never told to anybody else. Sit down by me! Nay! sit so that you can look into my eyes. When Ibrahim bought this vineyard, the kiosk already stood there, and in the kiosk was an oven. During vintage time, Ibrahim often took it into his head to sleep in the open air, and I had to bake bread for him. Once, as I was taking the loaves out of the oven, I found a ducat sticking to one of them. I said nothing about it, but waited till it was night, when I took up a knife and ripped up the floor of the oven. The whole of the underlying mortar was full of ducats. I suppose that when the town was taken by the Turks, some rich proprietor or other hid them there, and afterward perished in the war. I did not take away the treasure, but left it there, spread fresh mortar over it, and made a fire upon it to burn the mortar hard. The treasure is there now. I said nothing to Ibrahim about it, for if he got the money he would only drink the more and beat me oftener; nay, he would bring fresh wives into the house, and I should have trouble and strife enough. So I'll give the whole treasure to you. You can then ransom yourself and purchase me, and you'll have enough left for both of us to live comfortably together.”
Valentine was in a sad difficulty. What was he to do? Fate gave him the chance of securing a pretty woman and a lot of money besides. At last he summoned his religion to his a.s.sistance.
”It is impossible, my good lady,” said he apologetically; ”the men of my faith do not buy women with money. No, our women, following the bent of their hearts, freely give their hands to the men of their own choice. And the men who marry them pay them for their devotion, not with gifts and gold, but with equal devotion and sympathy.”
At these words Jigerdilla smote her hands together.
”Then your religion will suit me very well. If in your country such things are not matters of cash and barter, but free-will offerings, that is just what I should like. I'll follow you of my own free will. I'll fly with you, learn to know your G.o.d, go to your church, and take in baptism whatever name you like to give me.”
Valentine ought to have found the offer very tempting. Had Dame Sarah been at his side she would certainly have said:
”Look, my son, now you've got fortune by the forelock, hold on fast with both hands and never let go again. You'll get a wondrously beautiful young woman, with large black eyes and a small red mouth, and a whole oven full of ducats besides; and (which is the main thing after all) you'll be saving an erring, unbelieving soul for an eternal salvation, and will thus obtain for yourself a claim upon Paradise.” And it would have been the most natural thing in the world to have thought so.
But Valentine was very far indeed from thinking so. So long as the image of Michal lived in his heart, he saw in every other woman, however beautiful, only an evil spirit of temptation to which one has only to say, ”Depart hence!” and it will instantly vanish into the air.
He loved another.
But he did not tell Jigerdilla so.
Instead of that he pulled a very wry face, bowed himself humbly, and said:
”How could I be such a villain as to seduce my master's wife?”
At this, Jigerdilla, fairly beside herself with rage, tore off her slipper, struck Valentine in the face, and cried:
”Be off, slave! Take your spade and set about your work!”
Then she covered herself once more with her veil that the b.u.mpkin might not see her face again, and her contempt for him was so great that she did not even think it worth while to fear that the craven would abuse the secret that he had learnt. ”He who dare not touch his master's wife will certainly never dare to lay a hand on his master's treasure.”
Then, with a good deal of unnecessary bustle, she bounced out of the vineyard, first stopping to bestow on the slumbering Ibrahim a kick sufficiently vicious to awaken him.
The Turk, thus roughly aroused from his narcotic sleep, began first of all to throw his arms and legs about; then he revolved five or six times on his axis, and finally rolled over a little hillock into the garden below. There he lay for some time, dreaming on with wide-open eyes and addressing the paradisaical shapes which the opium had conjured up before him. Then he stared blankly into the world around him; began blinking with his eyes and plunging with his knees, and at last raised himself on his elbows and bellowed for his slave.