The Slaves of the Padishah Part 32

"I antic.i.p.ated that," replied Olaj Beg slily. "When with much shedding of tears they handed the Princess over to me, I heard them whisper in her ear: 'Fear nothing!' and I well understood from that that those same gentlemen who in the council chamber, with wise precautions, resolved to deliver up the fugitive Princess, had agreed among themselves over their cups at dinner-time that as I left Transylvania they would lie in wait for, fall upon me, and liberate and take away with them the Princess whom, by the way, they did not deliver over immediately, giving out that she was sick and suffering torments. While I was awaiting her recovery, n.o.body but her ladies was allowed admittance to her, and as soon as she was on her legs again, I made all my preparations for the journey next day, marshalling all the carriages and baggage-wagons in the courtyard.

I myself, however, got into a sorry matted conveyance with the Princess and her child, and set off the same night in the direction of Deva. My suite, with the empty carriages, was to follow next morning in the direction of Grosswardein. The masked men cut them down as arranged, but the Princess and her son were in safe hands all the time. Olaj Beg is an old fox, and a fox knows his way about."

Ha.s.san Pasha rubbed his hands delightedly.

"Nevertheless," continued Olaj Beg, "imagine not, my good general, that because this woman is now in thy hands thou wilt be able to keep her.

Sleeplessness will enter thy house as soon as thou hast admitted her within thy doors. If it be hard to guard any woman, it will be particularly hard to guard this one. The men and women of a whole kingdom have sworn to set her free by force or fraud, and will use every effort to do so. They will open thy bedroom doors with skeleton keys, they will dig beneath thy cellars, they will strew sleeping powder in thy evening potions, they will corrupt thy most faithful servants, and if no other poison make any impression upon thee they will pour into thy heart the most potent of all poisons, the tears of a supplicating woman.

I have brought the treasure, and I deliver it into thy hands. Allah requites me for my pains by taking her from me. Thou art now her guard, conceal her as best thou canst. Thy greatest worry will be that thou canst not slay her, for indeed she were best hidden beneath the ground.

But thou art to see to it that she is delivered alive into the hands of the Sultan's envoys, for shouldst thou kill her thyself be sure thou wilt soon feel the silken cord around thine own neck. Meanwhile, peace be with thee and to all who abide in the shadow of the Prophet!"

With these words Olaj Beg stepped into the adjoining room, and leading in the Princess, placed her hand in the hand of Ha.s.san; then he raised his eyes to Heaven.

"Allah is my witness," said he, "that I have delivered her and her child into thy hands!"

In the first moment Ha.s.san Pasha was amazed at the woman's loveliness, and thought with regret that it was necessary for his own safety that she must die.

Olaj Beg, however, had yet another piece of good advice to impart, and, with that object, drew nigh to him to whisper in his ear; but, as if his courage failed him at the last moment, he delivered his sentiments in the Arabic tongue.

"Thou wouldst guard this woman best if thou tookest her child from her and locked it up separately. The mother certainly would not escape without the child."

The Princess Ghyka did not understand these words, but she saw how the old fox indicated her little one with a glance and with what a greedy look Ha.s.san regarded it; and she pressed the child all the closer to her bosom as she saw him come a step closer. The unhappy woman trembled when she saw Ha.s.san smile upon the child like a hungry wolf would smile if he encountered it on his path. She guessed from their play of feature the terrible idea which the two men were discussing in a foreign tongue, and in her despair cast her eyes upon Azrael, as if hoping that she would find a response to her agony in a woman's heart.

The odalisk pretended she had not observed the look, as if those present were not worthy of the slightest attention from her; when, however, Ha.s.san gratefully embraced the Beg for this fresh piece of advice, Azrael intervened with a peculiar smile.

"Thou dost act like one who, bending beneath the weight of a burden too heavy for him, would pa.s.s it on to his neighbour."

Ha.s.san looked at his favourite damsel inquiringly, while Olaj Beg, who was unaccustomed to hear women talk at all when men were holding counsel together, looked back with offended surprise over his shoulder.

Azrael reclined lazily back upon her cushions, and swung one leg over her knee as she conversed with the two men.

"Worthy Ha.s.san," said she, "thou wouldst make two troubles out of one, if thou didst separate thy captives; while thou keepest thine eye on one of them, they will steal away the other behind thy back."

Ha.s.san cast a troubled look upon Olaj Beg, who stroked his long white beard and smiled.

"If thou dost permit thy damsels to ask questions, thou must needs answer them," said he.

At these words Azrael leaped from her place and boldly approached the two men, her flaming black eyes measured the Beg from head to foot, and when she spoke it was with a determined, startling voice.

"Listen to me, Ha.s.san--yes, I say, thou shouldst listen to me before all thy friends just because I am a woman. A man can only give advice, but a woman loves, and before a man thinks of danger a woman already sees it coming from afar, and while a man may grow into a crafty old fox, a woman is born crafty. Ha.s.san knows very well that of all those who wear a mask of friendship for him, there is but one on whom he can absolutely rely, whose love all the treasures in India can as little destroy as they can lull her hatred asleep, who watches over him while he sleeps, and if she sleeps is dreaming of his destiny--that person am I."

Ha.s.san confirmed the words of the damsel by throwing his arm round her shoulders and drawing her towards him.

"If this woman requires a sleepless, uncorruptible guardian," continued Azrael, "I will be that guardian. Make for us a long chain, and let one end of it be fastened to my arm and the other to her girdle. Thus the slave will be chained to the jailer, and, sleeping or waking, will be unable to escape from me. I shall be a good janitor. I will not let her, or her child, out of my hands."

The damsel accompanied these words with such an infernal smile that Olaj Beg involuntarily edged away from her; while Ha.s.san was enchanted by this n.o.ble specimen of loyalty. But Mariska's face was bright and resigned again, for she understood from the words of the odalisk, threatening as they were, that she and her child were not to be separated, and to all else she was indifferent.

Olaj Beg drew the folds of his caftan over his lean, dry bosom, and after peering at the two women, remarked to Ha.s.san:

"'Tis well thou canst trust a woman to look after a woman."

With that he backed out of the room, blessing all four corners of it as he went, and in the gateway distributed with great condescension to every one of the servants who had done anything for him some money ingeniously twisted up in pieces of paper (which, by the way, were found to contain a half-penny each when at last unfolded), and sitting in his mat-covered carriage, gave strict orders to the coachman not to look back till he saw the citadel of Buda.

But Ha.s.san the same hour sent for his goldsmith, and bade him prepare immediately a silver chain, four yards long, with golden shackles at each end, for Azrael and Mariska. The goldsmith took the measure of the hands of the two damsels, and brought in the evening a chain made of beaten silver, whose shackles were fastened by masterly-constructed padlocks, which Ha.s.san himself fastened on the hands of the damsels, thrusting the key which opened the padlocks into his girdle, which he tapped a hundred times a day to discover whether it was still there or not. Then he dismissed the pair of them into Azrael's dormitory. Mariska endured everything--the chain, the shame, and rough words--for the privilege of being able to embrace her child. She lay down content on the carpets as far from Azrael as the chain would permit it, and folding her hands above the baby's innocent head, prayed with burning devotion to the G.o.d of mercy, and calmly went to sleep holding the child in her arms.

A little beyond midnight the child began softly wailing. At the first sound of its crying Mariska awoke, and as she moved her hand the chain rattled. Azrael was instantly alert.

"Hast thou had evil dreams?" inquired the odalisk of Mariska; "the rattling of the chain aroused me."

"The weeping of my child awoke me," said Mariska softly; and drawing the little one to her bosom, as it embraced its mother's beautiful velvet breast with its chubby little finger, and drank from the sweetest of all sources the draught of life, the young mother gazed upon it with unspeakable joy, smiled, laughed, caught the child's rosy little fingers in her mouth, and implanted resounding kisses on its rosy, chubby cheeks. She had no thought at that moment for chain and dungeon.

Azrael felt in her heart the torments of the demons--it was that jealousy which those who are rocked in the lap of happiness feel at the sight of a luckless wretch who is happier than they are in spite of all his wretchedness.

"Wherefore dost thou rejoice?" she asked, gazing upon the lady with the eyes of a serpent.

"Because my child is with me."

"But the whole world has abandoned thee."

"It is more to me than the whole world."

"More than thy husband?"

Mariska reflected for a moment, and then, instead of replying, hugged the child still closer to her bosom and imprinted a kiss upon its forehead.

"Wert thou ever a mother?" she asked Azrael in her turn.

"Never," stammered the odalisk, and involuntarily her bosom heaved beneath a sigh.

It was plain from the face of Mariska how much she pitied this poor woman. Azrael perceived the look, and it wounded her that she should be pitied.

"Dost thou not know that both of you must die?" she asked with a darkened countenance.

"I am ready."

"And art thou not terrified at the thought? They will strangle thy child with a silken cord, and hang it dead upon thy breast, and then they will strangle thee likewise, and put you both in the grave, in the cold earth."

"We shall see each other in a better world," said Mariska with fervent devotion.

"Where?" inquired the astounded Azrael.

Mariska, with holy confidence, raised her little one in her arms, and, lifting her eyes, said: "G.o.d will take us unto Himself."

"And what need hath G.o.d of you?"

"He is the Father of those who suffer, and in the other world He rewards those who suffer grief here below."

"And who told thee this?"