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Updated: May 7, 2025
He has received his first salary from the tschorbadji to-day, and desires to spend a portion of it for some of the pretty things of which there are such quantities and varieties in the merchant's store. "It depends on what you wish, Mohammed. Is it carpets or cushions? or is it female attire or jewelry? Do you want mirrors, embroidered veils, or silken shawls? What is it you want?"
The tschorbadji stepped up to Cousrouf Pacha, and earnestly conjured him to show mercy to his son's friend, for his sake. "Consider that Osman is my only child, and my only happiness. Consider that he loves Mohammed as if he were a brother. The physicians say he would die if separated from Mohammed. Be merciful, and forgive the insolence provoked by your own overbearing words.
The men of Praousta are really not able to pay two hundred sequins, but what they lack in money I have in money's worth." "You speak in enigmas, maiden," said the tschorbadji. "You have the money, and yet you have it not. What does this mean?"
I tell you, tschorbadji, if he were my servant, he should now receive the bastinado." "And if you were my servant," exclaimed Mohammed, haughtily, "I should treat you in precisely the same manner, sir. The bastinado is very painful, I am told, and you probably know it by personal experience.
He had, however, made no inquiries after this; did not care for it; and did not rejoice when, on the morning after the wedding, the tschorbadji took his arm and conducted him to one of the largest and best houses in the main street of Cavalla. He showed him the store and parlors, and led him up the stone stairway into the apartments of the harem, that were richly furnished and adorned.
"Behold this, ye men of Praousta, and bow down in the dust; pay what the tschorbadji has demanded of you, or the heads of my prisoners shall fall as I have sworn." Horror, rage, and anger, were combined in the single cry that resounded from the breasts of all. "Mercy, mercy! you cruel boy!
These slaves believe that, because Cousrouf Pacha condescends to live in this desolate place this miserable nest they can mock and deny me their respect with impunity. But I tell you, tschorbadji, I tell you, and all the men of Praousta and Cavalla, you shall remember this day!
Ah, it will be delightful to be able to walk in the park and garden, with his Osman, without the fear of meeting his proud guest. Hastily the tschorbadji returns to Cavalla, to his son who is still reclining in the garden house, and relates that Cousrouf has departed, and that he has sent his dear Osman the kindest greetings, and the best wishes for his welfare.
You see they must bow down in the dust, after all; and, unless you pay the tax demanded by the tschorbadji, they shall die." "Listen, ye men of Praousta, listen!" cried a loud voice from one of the windows of the palace. There stood Cousrouf Pacha, beckoning to the fishermen with his uplifted hand. "Come into the palace; I wish to speak with you. Make free the passage, ye soldiers!
The governor arose hastily, but Cousrouf Pacha seized his arm and held him back forcibly. "Tschorbadji, it becomes your ambassador to seek you and give an account of his mission. I myself will hear him." Still holding the tschorbadji's arm, he stepped to the divan, seated himself, and drew the governor down beside him.
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