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Updated: May 15, 2025
"I must have time to consider," said Laleli, her old firmness returning, as it generally did in moments of great difficulty. She looked up, tossing back her hair. "How long will you give me?" "Till the morning light is first gray in the sky above Beikos," replied Gregorios, without hesitation. "But for your own sake you had better decide sooner." Laleli was silent.
"Again?" repeated Gregorios, who had at last attained his end. "And who is Selim, Abraham?" "Selim? Everybody in the bazaar knows Selim, the most insolent, avaricious, money-grabbing Lala in Stamboul. He is more like a Persian than anything else. He is the Lala of Laleli Khanum Effendi, who lives at Yeni Köj. They say she is a witch since her husband died," added Abraham, lowering his voice.
He told his tale triumphantly, dwelling on the fact that Marchetto himself had never suspected that he was interested in the matter. "And who is Laleli Khanum Effendi?" I inquired when he had finished. "And how are we to get into her house?" "You never heard of Laleli? You Franks think you know Constantinople, but you know very little in reality. Laleli means 'a tulip. A pretty name, Tulip.
None else can help me." "Nevertheless, though it be in vain, I must try my arts, Khanum Effendim," said Balsamides. "What are your arts?" asked the sick woman, scornfully. "Can you burn me with fire, and make a new Laleli out of the ashes of my bones?" "No," said Gregorios, "I cannot do that, but I can ease your pain, and perhaps you may recover." "If you can ease my pain, you shall be rich.
Laleli saw him take the syringe from the case, and her eyes glittered with the anticipation of immediate relief. "Speak," said Gregorios, "confess your sin, and you shall have rest." "What am I to confess?" asked the old woman, hungrily watching the tiny instrument in his fingers. "This," answered Balsamides, lowering his voice.
The envelope contained a sheet of pink paper, on which, in an ill-formed hand, but in tolerably good French, were written a few words. It was a declaration of love." "From Laleli?" asked Balsamides, with a laugh. "Exactly," replied Alexander. "It was a declaration of love from Laleli.
It is a case of life or death." "I have got life and death in my pocket," answered Gregorios, his eyes beginning to sparkle. "Can you read Turkish? Of course you can. Read that." I took the folded document and examined it. "This is an Iradè!" I exclaimed, in great surprise; "an imperial order to arrest Laleli Khanum Effendi, good heavens!
Laleli, however, though terrified as she felt that the agony she had so long endured was returning after so brief a respite, endeavored bravely to hide her sufferings, lest she should seem to confess that the Giaour was right, and that it was the presence of the devil in her heart which prevented the medicine from having its full effect.
Balsamides assumed a suave manner, and informed him that he was sent by his Majesty to afford relief, if possible, to Laleli Khanum Effendi. His Majesty, said Gregorios, was deeply grieved at hearing of the Khanum's illness, and desired that every means should be employed to alleviate her sufferings.
"But I have got the thing, and what is more, I have permission to personate the Sultan's private physician." "What is that for? I should think the Iradè were quite enough." "Laleli might die of fright, if I merely presented myself and threatened to arrest her. But I shall see her in the assumed character of the court physician.
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