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Updated: May 18, 2025
His myrmidons, relieved from the tension, exploded in a malicious guffaw. Sabbataï looked at the brutal dignitary with sad, steady gaze, then silently turned the other cheek. The Sub-Pacha recoiled with an uncanny feeling of the supernatural; the mockery of the bystanders was hushed. Sabbataï was conducted by side ways, to avoid the mob, to the Palace of the Kaimacon, the Deputy-Vizier.
Sabbataï sat upon a chest as majestically as though it were the throne of Solomon. But the Sub-Pacha shook off the oppressive emotion with which the sight of Sabbataï inspired him. "Rise, traitor," said he, "it is time that thou shouldst receive the reward of thy treasons and gather the fruit of thy follies." And therewith he dealt Sabbataï a sounding box of the ear.
The Jews of this great city persuade themselves that my blessing will bring them God's grace; they flock to welcome me. Can I stay them?" "Thou art a seditious knave." "An arrant impostor," put in the Sub-Pacha, "with the airs of a god. I thought to risk losing my arm when I cuffed him on the ear, but lo! 'tis stronger than ever." And he felt his muscle complacently.
Before these visitors, who came laden with gifts, Sabbataï maintained an equally sublime silence; sometimes he would point to the chapter of Genesis recounting how Joseph issued from his dungeon to become ruler of Egypt. "How fares thy miserable prisoner?" casually inquired the Kaimacon of his Sub-Pacha one day. "Miserable prisoner, Sire!" ejaculated the Sub-Pacha.
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