made available by the kentuckiana digital library note: images of the original pages are available through the kentuckiana digital library. see http://kdl.kyvl.org/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=kyetexts;cc=kyetexts; xc= &idno=b - - &view=toc the texan scouts a story of the alamo and goliad by joseph a. altsheler author of _the texan star_, _the quest of the four_, _the scouts of the valley_, etc. appleton-century-crofts, inc. new york foreword "the texan scouts," while a complete story in itself, continues the fortunes of ned fulton and his friends, who were the central characters in "the texan star." contents chapter i. in the storm ii. the captives iii. the fight with urrea iv. the cabin in the woods v. santa anna's advance vi. for freedom's sake vii. the herald of attack viii. in the alamo ix. the flag of no quarter x. crockett and bowie xi. the desperate defence xii. before the dictator xiii. to the last man xiv. the news of the fall xv. in another trap xvi. fannin's camp xvii. the sad surrender xviii. the black tragedy xix. the race for the boat xx. the cry for vengeance chapter i in the storm the horseman rode slowly toward the west, stopping once or twice to examine the wide circle of the horizon with eyes that were trained to note every aspect of the wilderness. on his right the plains melted away in gentle swell after swell, until they met the horizon. their brown surface was broken only by the spiked and thorny cactus and stray bits of chaparral. on his left was the wide bed of a river which flowed through the sand, breaking here and there into several streams, and then reuniting, only to scatter its volume a hundred yards further into three or four channels. a bird of prey flew on strong wing over the water, dipped and then rose again, but there was no other sign of life. beyond, the country southward rolled away, gray and bare, sterile and desolate. the horseman looked most often into the south. his glances into the north were few and brief, but his eyes dwelled long on the lonely land that lay beyond the yellow current. his was an attractive face. he was young, only a boy, but the brow was broad and high, and the eyes, grave and steady, were those of one who thought much. he was clad completely in buckskin, and his hat was wide of brim. a rifle held in one hand lay across the pommel of his saddle and there were weapons in his belt. two light, but warm, blankets, folded closely, were tied behind him. the tanned face and the lithe, strong figure showed a wonderful degree of health and strength. several hours passed and the horseman rode on steadily though slowly. his main direction was toward the west, and always he kept the river two or three hundred yards on his left. he never failed to search the plains on either side, but chiefly in the south, with the eager, intent gaze that missed nothing. but the lonesome gray land, cut by the coiling yellow river, still rolled before him, and its desolation and chill struck to his heart. it was the depth of the texan winter, and, at times, icy gusts, born in far mountains, swept across the plains. the rider presently turned his horse toward the river and stopped on a low bluff overlooking it. his face showed a tinge of disappointment, as if his eyes failed to find objects for which they sought. again he gazed long and patiently into the south, but without reward. he resumed his ride parallel with the river, but soon stopped a second time, and held up an open hand, like one who tests the wind. the air was growing perceptibly colder. the strong gusts were now fusing into a steady wind. the day, which had not been bright at any time, was turning darker. the sun was gone and in the far north banks of mists and vapor were gathering. a dreary moaning came over the plain. ned fulton, tried and brave though he was, beheld the omens with alarm. he knew what they portended, and in all that vast wilderness he was alone. not a human being to share the danger with him! not a hand to help! he looked for chaparral, something that might serve as a sort of shelter, but he had left the last clump of it behind, and now he turned and rode directly north, hoping that he might find some deep depression between the swells where he and his horse, in a fashion, could hide. meanwhile the norther came down with astonishing speed. the temperature fell like a plummet. the moan of the wind rose to a shriek, and cold clouds of dust were swept against ned and his horse. then snow mingled with the dust and both beat upon them. ned felt his horse shivering under him, and he shivered, too, despite his will. it had turned so dark that he could no longer tell where he was going, and he used the wide brim of his hat to protect himself from the sand. soon it was black as night, and the snow was driving in a hurricane. the wind, unchecked by forest or hill, screamed with a sound almost human. ned dismounted and walked in the lee of his horse. the animal turned his head and nuzzled his master, as if he could give him warmth. ned hoped that the storm would blow itself out in an hour or two, but his hope was vain. the darkness did not abate. the wind rose instead of falling, and the snow thickened. it lay on the plain several inches deep, and the walking grew harder. at last the two, the boy and the horse, stopped. ned knew that they had come into some kind of a depression, and the full force of the hurricane passed partly over their heads. it was yet very dark, and the driving snow scarcely permitted him to open his eyes, but by feeling about a little he found that one side of the dip was covered with a growth of dwarf bushes. he led the horse into the lower edge of these, where some protection was secured, and, crouching once more in the lee of the animal, he unfolded the two blankets, which he wrapped closely about himself to the eyes. ned, for the first time since the norther rushed down upon him, felt secure. he would not freeze to death, he would escape the fate that sometimes overtook lone hunters or travelers upon those vast plains. warmth from the blankets began gradually to replace the chill in his bones, and the horse and the bushes together protected his face from the driven snow which had been cutting like hail. he even had, in some degree, the sense of comfort which one feels when safe inside four walls with a storm raging past the windows. the horse whinnied once and rubbed his nose against ned's hand. he, too, had ceased to shiver. all that afternoon the norther blew with undiminished violence. after a while the fall of snow thinned somewhat, but the wind did not decrease. ned was devoutly thankful for the dip and the bushes that grew within it. nor was he less thankful for the companionship of his horse. it was a good horse, a brave horse, a great bay mustang, built powerfully and with sinews and muscles of steel. he had secured him just after taking part in the capture of san antonio with his comrades, obed white and the ring tailed panther, and already the tie between horse and rider had become strong and enduring. ned stroked him again, and the horse, twisting his neck around, thrust his nose under his arm. "good old boy! good fellow!" said ned, pinching his ear. "we were lucky, you and i, to find this place." the horse neighed ever so gently, and rubbed his nose up and down. after a while the darkness began to increase. ned knew that it was not a new development of the storm, but the coming of night, and he grew anxious again. he and his horse, however secure at the present moment, could not stay always in that dip among the bushes. yet he did not dare to leave it. above on the plain they would receive the full sweep of the wind, which was still bitterly cold. he was worn by the continued buffetings of blast and snow, but he did not dare to lie down, even in the blankets, lest he never wake again, and while he considered he saw darker shadows in the darkness above him. he gazed, all attention, and counted ten shadows, following one another, a dusky file. he knew by the set of their figures, short and stocky, that they were mexicans, and his heart beat heavily. these were the first mexicans that any one had seen on texan soil since the departure of cos and his army on parole from captured san antonio. so the mexicans had come back, and no doubt they would return in great force! ned crouched lower, and he was very glad that the nose of the horse was still under his arm. he would not have a chance to whinny to his kind that bore the mexicans. but the horse made no attempt to move, and ned watched them pass on and out of sight. he had not heard the sound of footsteps or voices above the wind, and after they were gone it seemed to him that he had seen a line of phantoms. but he was sure that his own mortal eyes had beheld that for which he was looking. he and his comrades had been watching the rio grande to see whether the mexicans had crossed, and now he at least knew it. he waited patiently three or four hours longer, until the wind died and the fall of snow ceased, when he mounted his horse and rode out of the dip. the wind suddenly sprang up again in about fifteen minutes, but now it blew from the south and was warm. the darkness thinned away as the moon and stars came out in a perfect sky of southern blue. the temperature rose many degrees in an hour and ned knew that the snow would melt fast. all danger of freezing was past, but he was as hungry as a bear and tired to death. he unwrapped the blankets from his body, folded them again in a small package which he made fast to his saddle, and once more stroked the nose of his horse. "good old jack," he murmured--he had called him old jack after andrew jackson, then a mighty hero of the south and west, "you passed through the ordeal and never moved, like the silent gentleman that you are." old jack whinnied ever so softly, and rubbed his nose against the boy's coat sleeve. ned mounted him and rode out of the dip, pausing at the top of the swell for a long look in every direction. the night was now peaceful and there was no noise, save for the warm wind that blew out of the south with a gentle sighing sound almost like the note of music. trickles of water from the snow, already melting, ran down the crests. lighter and lighter grew the sky. the moon seemed to ned to be poised directly overhead, and close by. new stars were springing out as the last clouds floated away. ned sought shelter, warmth and a place in which to sleep, and to secure these three he felt that he must seek timber. the scouts whom he had seen were probably the only mexicans north of the rio grande, and, as he believed, there was not one chance in a thousand of meeting such enemies again. if he should be so lucky as to find shelter he would sleep there without fear. he rode almost due north for more than two hours, seeing patches of chaparral on both right and left. but, grown fastidious now and not thinking them sufficient for his purpose, he continued his northern course. old jack's feet made a deep sighing sound as they sank in the snow, and now there was water everywhere as that soft but conquering south wind blew steadily over the plain. when he saw a growth of timber rising high and dark upon a swell he believed that he had found his place, and he urged his horse to renewed speed. the trees proved to be pecans, aspens and oaks growing so densely that he was compelled to dismount and lead old jack before they could force an entrance. inside he found a clear space, somewhat like the openings of the north, in shape an irregular circle, but not more than fifteen feet across. great spreading boughs of oaks had protected it so well that but little snow had fallen there, and that little had melted. already the ground in the circle was drying. ned uttered an exclamation of relief and gratitude. this would be his camp, and to one used to living in the wilderness it furnished good shelter. at one edge of the opening was an outcropping of flat rock now quite dry, and there he would spread his bed. he unsaddled and unbridled his horse, merely tethering him with a lariat, and spread the horse blanket upon the flat rock. he would lie upon this and cover himself with his own blankets, using the saddle as a pillow. but the security of the covert tempted the boy, who was now as hungry as a bear just come from winter quarters. he felt weak and relaxed after his long hours in the snow and storm, and he resolved to have warm food and drink. there was much fallen wood among the trees, and with his strong hunting knife he whittled off the bark and thin dry shavings until he had a fine heap. working long with flint and steel, he managed to set fire to the shavings, and then he fed the flames with larger pieces of wood until he had a great bed of glowing coals. a cautious wilderness rover, learning always from his tried friends, ned never rode the plains without his traveling equipment, and now he drew from his pack a small tin coffee pot and tiny cup of the same material. then with quick and skillful hands he made coffee over the coals and warmed strips of deer and buffalo meat. he ate and drank hungrily, while the horse nibbled the grass that grew within the covert. glorious warmth came again and the worn feeling departed. life, youthful, fresh and abounding, swelled in every vein. he now put out all the coals carefully, throwing wet leaves upon them, in order that not a single spark might shine through the trees to be seen by an enemy upon the plain. he relied upon the horse to give warning of a possible approach by man, and to keep away wolves. then he made his bed upon the rock, doing everything as he had arranged it in his mind an hour before, and, wrapped in his blankets, fell into the soundest of sleeps. the south wind still blew steadily, playing a low musical song among the trees. the beads of water on the twigs and the few leaves that remained dried fast. the grass dried, too, and beyond the covert the snow, so quick to come, was equally quick to go. the horse ceased to nibble the grass, looked at the sleeping boy, touched his blankets lightly with his nose, and walked to the other side of the opening, where he lay down and went to his own horse heaven of sleep. it was not many hours until day and old jack was a light sleeper. when he opened his eyes again he saw a clear and beautiful winter day of the far south. the only clouds in the sky were little drifting bits of fine white wool, and the warm wind still blew. old jack, who was in reality young jack, as his years were not yet four, did not think so much of the covert now, as he had already eaten away all the grass within the little opening but his sense of duty was strong. he saw that his human master and comrade still slept, apparently with no intention of awakening at any very early date, and he set himself to gleaning stray blades of grass that might have escaped his notice the night before. ned awoke a little after the noon hour, and sprang to his feet in dismay. the sun was almost directly over his head, showing him how late it was. he looked at his horse as if to reproach his good comrade for not waking him sooner, but old jack's large mild eyes gave him such a gaze of benignant unconcern that the boy was ashamed of himself. "it certainly was not your fault," he said to his horse, "and, after all, it probably doesn't matter. we've had a long sound sleep and rest, and i've no doubt that both of us will profit by it. nothing seems to be left in here for you to eat, but i'll take a little breakfast myself." he did not relight the fire, but contented himself with cold food. then resaddling, he left the grove and rode northward again until he came to a hill, or, rather, a swell, that was higher than the rest. here he stopped his horse and took a glance at the sun, which was shining with uncommon brilliancy. then he produced a small mirror from the pocket of his hunting shirt and held it in such a position that it made a focus of the sun's rays, throwing them in a perfect blazing lance of light. he turned the flaming lance around the horizon, until it completed the circle and then he started around with it again. meantime he was keeping a close watch upon every high point. a hill rose in the north, and he looked at it longest, but nothing came from it. there was another, but lower, hill in the west, and before he had completed the second round with his glass a light flashed from it. it was a brilliant light, almost like a sheaf of white incandescent rays. he lowered his own mirror and the light played directly upon his hill. when it ceased he sent back answering rays, to which, when he stopped, a rejoinder came in like fashion. then he put the little mirror back in the safe pocket of his hunting shirt and rode with perfect confidence toward that western hill. the crest that ned sought was several miles away, although it looked much nearer in the thin clear air of the plains, but he rode now at increased speed, because there was much to draw him on. old jack seemed to share in his lightness of spirit, raising his head once and neighing, as if he were sending forth a welcome. the boy soon saw two figures upon the hill, the shapes of horse and man, outlined in black against the sun, which was now declining in the west. they were motionless and they were exaggerated into gigantic stature against the red background. ned knew them, although the distance was far too great to disclose any feature. but signal had spoken truly to signal, and that was enough. old jack made a fresh burst of speed and presently neighed once more. an answering neigh came back from the hill. ned rode up the slope and greeted obed white and the ring tailed panther with outstretched hands. "and it's you, my boy," said obed, his eyes glistening. "until we saw your signal we were afraid that you might have frozen to death in the norther, but it's a long lane that has no happy ending, and here we are, all three of us, alive, and as well as ever." "that's so," said the panther, "but even when the storm was at its worst i didn't give up, ned. somehow, when things are at the blackest i'm always hopin'. i don't take any credit fur it. i was just born with that kind of a streak in me." ned regarded him with admiration. the ring tailed panther was certainly a gorgeous object. he rode a great black horse with a flowing mane. he was clad completely in a suit of buckskin which was probably without a match on the border. it and his moccasins were adorned with thick rows of beads of many colors, that glittered and flashed as the sunlight played upon them. heavy silver spurs were fastened to his heels, and his hat of broad brim and high cone in the mexican fashion was heavy with silver braid. his saddle also was of the high, peaked style, studded with silver. the panther noticed ned's smile of appraisement and smiled back. "ain't it fine?" he said. "i guess this is about the beautifullest outfit to be found in either texas or mexico. i bought it all in honor of our victory just after we took san antonio, and it soothes my eyes and makes my heart strong every time i look at it." "and it helps out the prairies," said obed white, his eyes twinkling. "now that winter has made 'em brown, they need a dash of color and the panther gives it to 'em. fine feathers don't keep a man from being a man for a' that. what did you do in the storm, ned?" "i found shelter in a thick grove, managed to light a fire, and slept there in my blankets." "we did about the same." "but i saw something before i reached my shelter." "what was that?" exclaimed the two, noting the significance in ned's tone. "while i was waiting in a dip i saw ten mexican horsemen ride by. they were heavily armed, and i've no doubt they were scouts belonging to some strong force." "and so they are back on this side of the rio grande," said obed white thoughtfully. "i'm not surprised. our texans have rejoiced too early. the full storm has not burst yet." the panther began to bristle. a giant in size, he seemed to grow larger, and his gorgeous hunting suit strained at the seams. "let 'em come on," he said menacingly. "let santa anna himself lead 'em. we texans can take care of 'em all." but obed white shook his head sadly. "we could if we were united," he said, "but our leaders have taken to squabbling. you're a cheerful talker, panther, and you deserve both your names, but to tell you the honest truth i'm afraid of the mexican advance." "i think the mexicans probably belonged to urrea's band," said ned. "very likely," said obed. "he's about the most energetic of their partisan leaders, and it may be that we'll run against him pretty soon." they had heard in their scouting along the rio grande that young francisco urrea, after the discovery that he was a spy and his withdrawal from san antonio with the captured army of cos, had organized a strong force of horsemen and was foremost among those who were urging a new mexican advance into texas. "it's pretty far west for the mexicans," said the panther. "we're on the edge of the indian country here." but obed considered it all the more likely that urrea, if he meditated a raid, would come from the west, since his approach at that point would be suspected the least. the three held a brief discussion and soon came to an agreement. they would continue their own ride west and look for urrea. having decided so, they went into the task heart and soul, despite its dangers. the three rode side by side and three pairs of skilled eyes examined the plain. the snow was left only in sheltered places or among the trees. but the further they went the scarcer became the trees, and before night they disappeared entirely. "we are comin' upon the buffalo range," said the panther. "a hundred miles further west we'd be likely to strike big herds. when we're through fightin' the mexicans i'm goin' out there again. it's the life fur me." the night came, dark and cold, but fortunately without wind. they camped in a dip and did not light any fire, lying as ned had done the night before on their horse blankets and wrapping themselves in their own. the three horses seemed to be contented with one another and made no noise. they deemed it wise now to keep a watch, as they might be near urrea's band or lipans might pass, and the panther, who said he was not sleepy at all, became sentinel. ned, although he had not risen until noon, was sleepy again from the long ride, and his eyes closed soon. the last object that he saw was the panther standing on the crest of the swell just beyond them, rifle on shoulder, watching the moonlit plains. obed white was asleep already. the panther walked back and forth a few times and then looked down at his comrades in the dip. his trained eyes saw their chests rising and falling, and he knew that they were far away in the land of nowhere. then he extended his walk back and forth a little further, scanning carefully the dusky plain. a light wind sprang up after a while, and it brought a low but heavy and measured tread to his ears. the panther's first impulse was to awaken his friends, because this might be the band of urrea, but he hesitated a moment, and then lay down with his ear to the earth. when he rose his uneasiness had departed and he resumed his walk back and forth. he had heard that tread before many times and, now that it was coming nearer, he could not mistake it, but, as the measured beat indicated that it would pass to one side, it bore no threat for his comrades or himself. the panther did not stop his walk as from a distance of a few hundred yards he watched the great buffalo herd go by. the sound was so steady and regular that ned and obed were not awakened nor were the horses disturbed. the buffaloes showed a great black mass across the plain, extending for fully a mile, and they were moving north at an even gait. the panther watched until the last had passed, and he judged that there were fully a hundred thousand animals in the herd. he saw also the big timber wolves hanging on the rear and flanks, ready to cut out stray calves or those weak from old age. so busy were the wolves seeking a chance that they did not notice the gigantic figure of the man, rifle on shoulder, who stood on the crest of the swell looking at them as they passed. the panther's eyes followed the black line of the herd until it disappeared under the northern rim of darkness. he was wondering why the buffaloes were traveling so steadily after daylight and he came to the conclusion that the impelling motive was not a search for new pastures. he listened a long time until the last rumble of the hundred thousand died away in a faint echo, and then he awakened his comrades. "i'm thinkin'," he said, "that the presence of urrea's band made the buffaloes move. now i'm not a ring tailed panther an' a cheerful talker for nothin', an' we want to hunt that band. like as not they've been doin' some mischief, which we may be able partly to undo. i'm in favor of ridin' south, back on the herd track an' lookin' for 'em." "so am i," said obed white. "my watch says it's one o'clock in the morning, and my watch is always right, because i made it myself. we've had a pretty good rest, enough to go on, and what we find may be worth finding. a needle in a haystack may be well hid, but you'll find it if you look long enough." they rode almost due south in the great path made by the buffalo herd, not stopping for a full two hours when a halt was made at a signal from the panther. they were in a wide plain, where buffalo grass yet grew despite the winter, and the panther said with authority that the herd had been grazing here before it was started on its night journey into the north. "an' if we ride about this place long enough," he said, "we'll find the reason why the buffaloes left it." he turned his horse in a circuit of the plain and ned and obed followed the matchless tracker, who was able, even in the moonlight, to note any disturbance of the soil. presently he uttered a little cry and pointed ahead. both saw the skeleton of a buffalo which evidently had been killed not long and stripped of its meat. a little further on they saw another and then two more. "that tells it," said the panther succinctly. "these buffaloes were killed for food an' most likely by mexicans. it was the shots that set the herd to runnin'. the men who killed 'em are not far away, an' i'm not a ring tailed panther an' a cheerful talker if they don't belong to urrea's band." "isn't that a light?" said ned, pointing to the west, "or is it a firefly or something of the kind?" a glowing spark was just visible over the plain, but as it neither moved nor went out the three concluded that it was made by a distant fire. "i think it's in chaparral or among trees," said obed, "or we would see it more plainly. it's a poor camp fire that hides its light under a bushel." "i think you're right an' it must be chaparral," said the panther. "but we'll ride toward it an' soon answer our own questions." the light was more than a mile away and, as they advanced slowly, they saw it grow in size and intensity. it was surely a campfire, but no sound that they could yet hear came from it. they did not expect to hear any. if it was indeed urrea and his men they would probably be sleeping soundly, not expecting any foe to be near. the panther now dismounted, and the other two did likewise. "no need to show too high above the plain," he said, "an' if we have to run it won't take a second to jump back on our horses." ned did not take the bridle of his horse as the others did. he knew that old jack would follow as faithful as any dog to his master, and he was right. as they advanced slowly the velvet nose more than once pressed trustfully against his elbow. they saw now that an extensive growth of chaparral rose before them, from the center of which the light seemed to be shining. the panther lay down on the prairie, put his ear to the ground, and listened a long time. "i think i hear the feet of horses movin' now an' then," he said, "an' if so, one of us had better stay behin' with ours. a horse of theirs might neigh an' a horse of ours might answer. yon can't tell. obed, i guess it'll be for you to stay. you've got a most soothin' disposition with animals." "all right," said obed philosophically, "i'd rather go on, but, if it's better for me to stay, i'll stay. they also serve who stand and hold the reins. if you find you've got to leave in a hurry i'll be here waiting." he gathered up the reins of the three horses and remained quietly on the plain, while ned and the panther went forward, making straight for the light. when they came to the edge of the chaparral they knelt among the bushes and listened. now both distinctly heard the occasional movement of horses, and they saw the dusky outlines of several figures before the fire, which was about three hundred yards away. "they are bound to be mexicans," whispered the panther, "'cause there are no texans in this part of the country, an' you an' me, ned, must find out just who they are." "you lead the way, panther," said ned. "i'll follow wherever you go." "then be mighty careful. look out for the thorns an' don't knock your rifle against any bush." the panther lay almost flat. his huge figure seemed to blend with the earth, and he crept forward among the thorny bushes with amazing skill. he was like some large animal, trained for countless generations to slip through thickets. ned, just behind him, could hear only the faintest noise, and the bushes moved so little that one, not knowing, might have credited it to the wind. the boy had the advantage of following in the path made by the man's larger figure, and he, too, was successful in making no sound. but he could hear the stamp of horses' feet clearly now, and both to left and right he caught glimpses of them tethered in the thickets. his comrade stopped at last. they were not more than a hundred yards from the fire now, and the space in front of them was mostly open. the panther, crouching among the bushes, raised his finger slowly and pointed toward the fire. ned, who had moved to one side, followed the pointing finger and saw urrea. he was the dominant figure in a group of six or seven gathered about the flames. he was no longer in any disguise, but wore an officer's gorgeous uniform of white and silver. a splendid cocked hat was on his head, and a small gold hilted rapier swung by his side. it may have been partly the effect of the night and the red flame, but the face of urrea had upon ned an effect much like that of santa anna. it was dark and handsome, but full of evil. and evil ned knew urrea to be. no man with righteous blood in his veins would play the spy and traitor as he had done. "i could shoot him from here," whispered the panther, who evidently was influenced in a similar way, "then reach our horses an' get away. it might be a good deed, an' it might save our lives, ned, but i'm not able to force myself to do it." "nor i," said ned. "i can't shoot an enemy from ambush." urrea and the other men at the fire, all of whom were in the dress of officers, were in a deep talk. ned inferred that the subject must be of much importance, since they sat awake, discussing it between midnight and morning. "look beyond the fire at the figures leanin' against the trees," whispered the panther. ned looked and hot anger rose in his veins. chapter ii the captives ned had not noticed at first, but, since his eyes were growing used to the dim light, and since the panther had pointed the way, he saw a dozen men, arms bound tightly behind them, leaning against the trees. they were prisoners and he knew instinctively that they were texans. his blood, hot at first, now chilled in his veins. they had been captured by urrea in a raid, and as santa anna had decreed that all texans were rebels who should be executed when taken, they would surely die, unless rescue came. "what shall we do?" he whispered. "nothing now," replied the panther, in the same soft tone, "but if you an' obed are with me we'll follow this crowd, an' maybe we can get the texans away from 'em. it's likely that urrea will cross the rio grande an' go down into mexico to meet cos or santa anna. are you game enough to go, ned? i'm a ring tailed panther an' a roarin' grizzly bear, but i don't like to follow all by myself." "i'm with you," said ned, "if i have to go all the way back to the city of mexico, an' i know that i can speak for obed, too." "i jest asked as a matter of form," said the panther. "i knowed before askin' that you an' obed would stick to me." there was a sudden gust of wind at that moment and the light of the fire sprang higher. the flames threw a glow across the faces of the prisoners. most of them were asleep, but ned saw them very distinctly now. one was a boy but little older than himself, his face pale and worn. near him was an old man, with a face very uncommon on the border. his features were those of a scholar and ascetic. his cheeks were thin, and thick white hair crowned a broad white brow. ned felt instinctively that he was a man of importance. both the boy and the man slept the sleep of utter exhaustion. urrea rose presently and looked at his prisoners. the moonlight was shining on his face, and it seemed to ned to be that of some master demon. the boy was far from denying many good qualities to the mexicans, but the countenance of urrea certainly did not express any of them that night. it showed only savage exultation as he looked at the bound men, and ned knew that this was a formidable enemy of the texans, one who would bring infinite resources of cunning and enterprise to crush them. urrea said a few words to his officers and then withdrew into a small tent which ned had not noticed hitherto. the officers lay down in their blankets, but a dozen sentinels watched about the open space. ned and the panther crept slowly back toward the plain. "what is our best plan, panther?" whispered the hoy. "we can't do anything yet but haul off, watch an' then follow. the chaparral runs along for a mile or two an' we can hide in the north end of it until they march south an' are out of sight. then we'll hang on." they found obed standing exactly where they had left him, the reins of the three horses in his hands. "back at last," he said. "all things come to him who waits long enough, if he doesn't die first. did you see anything besides a lot of mexican vaqueros, fuddled with liquor and sound asleep?" "we did not see any vaqueros," replied the panther, "but we saw urrea an' his band, an' they had among them a dozen good texans bound fast, men who will be shot if we three don't stand in the way. you have to follow with us, obed, because ned has already promised for you." the maine man looked at them and smiled. "a terribly good mind reader, that boy, ned," he said. "he knew exactly what i wanted. there's a lot of things in the world that i'd like to do, but the one that i want to do most just now is to follow urrea and that crowd of his and take away those texans. you two couldn't keep me from going." the panther smiled back. "you are shorely the right stuff, obed white," he said. "we're only three in this bunch, but two of 'em besides me are ring-tailed panthers. now we'll just draw off, before it's day, an' hide in the chaparral up there." they rode a mile to the north and remained among dense bushes until daylight. at dawn they saw a column of smoke rise from urrea's camp. "they are cookin' breakfast now," said the panther. "it's my guess that in an hour they'll be ridin' south with their prisoners." the column of smoke sank after a while, and a couple of hours later the three left the chaparral. from one of the summits they dimly saw a mass of horsemen riding toward mexico. "there's our men," said the panther, "an' now we'll follow all day at this good, safe distance. at night we can draw up closer if we want to do it." the mexicans maintained a steady pace, and the three pursuers followed at a distance of perhaps two miles. now and then the swells completely shut urrea's band from sight, but ned, obed and the panther followed the broad trail without the slightest difficulty. "they'll reach the river before noon," said the panther. "there ain't any doubt now that they're bound for mexico. it's jest as well for what we want to do, 'cause they're likely to be less watchful there than they are in texas." the band of urrea, as nearly as they could judge, numbered about fifty, all mounted and armed well. the mexicans were fine horsemen, and with good training and leadership they were dangerous foes. the three knew them well, and they kept so far behind that they were not likely to be observed. it was only a half hour past noon when urrea's men reached the rio grande, and without stopping made the crossing. they avoided the quicksands with experienced eyes, and swam their horses through the deep water, the prisoners always kept in the center of the troop. ned, obed and the panther watched them until they passed out of sight. then they, too, rode forward, although slowly, toward the stream. "we can't lose 'em," said the panther, "so i think we'd better stay out of sight now that they're on real mexican soil. maybe our chance will come to-night, an' ag'in maybe it won't." "patience will have its perfect rescue, if we only do the right things," said obed. "an' if we think hard enough an' long enough we're bound to do 'em, or i'm a ring tailed panther an' a cheerful talker fur nothin'," said the panther. waiting until they were certain that the mexicans were five or six miles ahead, the three forded the rio grande, and stood once more on mexican soil. it gave ned a curious thrill. he had passed through so much in mexico that he had not believed he would ever again enter that country. the land on the mexican side was about the same as that on the texan, but it seemed different to him. he beheld again that aspect of infinite age, of the long weariness of time, and of physical decay. they rode more briskly through the afternoon and at darkness saw the camp fires of urrea glimmering ahead of them. but the night was not favorable to their plans. the sky was the usual cloudless blue of the mexican plateau, the moon was at the full and all the stars were out. what they wanted was bad weather, hoping meanwhile the execution of the prisoners would not be begun until the mexicans reached higher authority than urrea, perhaps santa anna himself. they made their own camp a full two miles from urrea's, and obed and the panther divided the watch. urrea started early the next morning, and so did the pursuing three. the dawn was gray, and the breeze was chill. as they rode on, the wind rose and its edge became so sharp that there was a prospect of another norther. the panther unrolled from his pack the most gorgeous serape that ned had ever seen. it was of the finest material, colored a deep scarlet and it had a gold fringe. "fine feathers are seen afar," said obed. "that's so," said the panther, "but we're not coming near enough to the mexicans for them to catch a glimpse of this, an' such bein' the case i'm goin' to put it between me an' the cold. i'm proud of it, an' when i wrap it aroun' me i feel bigger an' stronger. its red color helps me. i think i draw strength from red, just as i do from a fine, tender buffalo steak." he spoke with much earnestness, and the other two did not contradict him. meanwhile he gracefully folded the great serape about his shoulders, letting it fall to the saddle. no mexican could have worn it more rakishly. "that's my shield and protector," he said. "now blow wind, blow snow, i'll keep warm." it blew wind, but it did not blow snow. the day remained cold, but the air undoubtedly had a touch of damp. "it may rain, and i'm sure the night will be dark," said obed. "we may have our chance. fortune favors those who help themselves." the country became more broken, and the patches of scrub forest increased in number. often the three rode quite near to urrea's men and observed them closely. the mexicans were moving slowly, and, as the americans had foreseen, discipline was relaxed greatly. near night drops of rain began to fall in their faces, and the sun set among clouds. the three rejoiced. a night, dark and wet, had come sooner than they had hoped. obed and ned also took out serapes, and wrapped them around their shoulders. they served now not only to protect their bodies, but to keep their firearms dry as well. then they tethered their horses among thorn bushes about a mile from urrea's camp, and advanced on foot. they saw the camp fire glimmering feebly through the night, and they advanced boldly. it was so dark now that a human figure fifty feet away blended with the dusk, and the ground, softened by the rain, gave back no sound of footsteps. nevertheless they saw on their right a field which showed a few signs of cultivation, and they surmised that urrea had made his camp at the lone hut of some peon. they reckoned right. they came to clumps of trees, and in an opening inclosed by them was a low adobe hut, from the open door of which a light shone. they knew that urrea and his officers had taken refuge there from the rain and cold and, under the boughs of the trees or beside the fire, they saw the rest of the band sheltering themselves as best they could. the prisoners, their hands bound, were in a group in the open, where the slow, cold rain fell steadily upon them. ned's heart swelled with rage at the sight. order and discipline seemed to be lacking. men came and went as they pleased. fully twenty of them were making a shelter of canvas and thatch beside the hut. others began to build the fire higher in order to fend off the wet and cold. ned did not see that the chance of a rescue was improved, but the panther felt a sudden glow when his eyes alighted upon something dark at the edge of the woods. a tiny shed stood there and his keen eyes marked what was beneath it. "what do you think we'd better do, panther?" asked obed. "no roarin' jest now. we mustn't raise our voices above whispers, but we'll go back in the brush and wait. in an hour or two all these mexicans will be asleep. like as not the sentinels, if they post any, will be asleep first." they withdrew deeper into the thickets, where they remained close together. they saw the fire die in the mexican camp. after a while all sounds there ceased, and again they crept near. the panther was a genuine prophet, known and recognized by his comrades. urrea's men, having finished their shelters, were now asleep, including all the sentinels except two. there was some excuse for them. they were in their own country, far from any texan force of importance, and the night could scarcely have been worse. it was very dark, and the cold rain fell with a steadiness and insistence that sought and finally found every opening in one's clothing. even the stalking three drew their serapes closer, and shivered a little. the two sentinels who did not sleep were together on the south side of the glade. evidently they wished the company of each other. they were now some distance from the dark little shed toward which the panther was leading his comrades, and their whole energies were absorbed in an attempt to light two cigarritos, which would soothe and strengthen them as they kept their rainy and useless watch. the three completed the segment of the circle and reached the little shed which had become such an object of importance to the panther. "don't you see?" said the panther, his grim joy showing in his tone. they saw, and they shared his satisfaction. the mexicans had stacked their rifles and muskets under the shed, where they would be protected from the rain. "it's queer what foolish things men do in war," said obed. "whom the gods would destroy they first deprive of the sense of danger. they do not dream that richard, meaning the panther, is in the chaparral." "if we approach this shed from the rear the sentinels, even if they look, will not be able to see us," said the panther. "by the great horn spoon, what an opportunity! i can hardly keep from roarin' an' ravin' about it. now, boys, we'll take away their guns, swift an' quiet." a few trips apiece and all the rifles and muskets with their ammunition were carried deep into the chaparral, where obed, gladly sacrificing his own comfort, covered them against the rain with his serape. not a sign had come meanwhile from the two sentinels on the far side of the camp. ned once or twice saw the lighted ends of their cigarritos glowing like sparks in the darkness, but the outlines of the men's figures were very dusky. "an' now for the riskiest part of our job, the one that counts the most," said the panther, "the one that will make everything else a failure if it falls through. we've got to secure the prisoners." the captives were lying under the boughs of some trees about twenty yards from the spot where the fire had been built. the pitiless rain had beaten upon them, but as far as ned could judge they had gone to sleep, doubtless through sheer exhaustion. the panther's plan of action was swift and comprehensive. "boys," he said, "i'm the best shot of us three. i don't say it in any spirit of boastin', 'cause i've pulled trigger about every day for thirty years, an' more'n once a hundred times in one day. now you two give me your rifles and i'll set here in the edge of the bushes, then you go ahead as silent as you can an' cut the prisoners loose. if there's an alarm i'll open fire with the three rifles and cover the escape." handing the rifles to the panther, the two slipped forward. it was a grateful task to ned. again his heart swelled with wrath as he saw the dark figures of the bound men lying on the ground in the rain. he remembered the one who was youthful of face like himself and he sought him. as he approached he made out a figure lying in a strained position, and he was sure that it was the captive lad. a yard or two more and he knew absolutely. he touched the boy on the shoulder, whispered in his ear that it was a friend, and, with one sweep of his knife, released his arms. "crawl to the chaparral there," said ned, in swift sharp tones, pointing the way. "another friend is waiting at that point." the boy, without a word, began to creep forward in a stiff and awkward fashion. ned turned to the next prisoner. it was the elderly man whom he had seen from the chaparral, and he was wide awake, staring intently at ned. "is it rescue?" he whispered. "is it possible?" "it is rescue. it is possible," replied ned, in a similar whisper. "turn a little to one side and i will cut the cords that bind you." the man turned, but when ned freed him he whispered: "you will have to help me. i cannot yet walk alone. urrea has already given me a taste of what i was to expect." ned shuddered. there was a terrible significance in the prisoner's tone. he assisted him to rise partly, but the man staggered. it was evident that he could not walk. he must help this man, but the others were waiting to be released also. then the good thought came. "wait a moment," he said, and he cut the bonds of another man. "now you help your friend there," he said. he saw the two going away together, and he turned to the others. he and obed worked fast, and within five minutes the last man was released. but as they crept back toward the chaparral the slack sentinels caught sight of the dusky figures retreating. two musket shots were fired and there were rapid shouts in mexican jargon. ned and obed rose to their feet and, keeping the escaped prisoners before them, ran for the thickets. a terrific reply to the mexican alarm came from the forest. a volley of rifle and pistol shots was fired among the soldiers as they sprang to their feet and a tremendous voice roared: "at 'em, boys! at 'em! charge 'em! now is your time! rip an' t'ar an' roar an' chaw! don't let a single one escape! sweep the scum off the face of the earth!" the ring tailed panther had a mighty voice, issuing from a mighty throat. never had he used it in greater volume or to better purpose than on that night. the forest fairly thundered with the echoes of the battle cry, and as the dazed mexicans rushed for their guns only to find them gone, they thought that the whole texan army was upon them. in another instant a new terror struck at their hearts. their horses and mules, driven in a frightful stampede, suddenly rushed into the glade and they were now busy keeping themselves from being trampled to death. truly the panther had spent well the few minutes allotted to him. he fired new shots, some into the frightened herd. his tremendous voice never ceased for an instant to encourage his charging troops, and to roar out threats against the enemy. urrea, to his credit, made an attempt to organize his men, to stop the panic, and to see the nature of the enemy, but he was borne away in the frantic mob of men and horses which was now rushing for the open plain. ned and obed led the fugitives to the place where the rifles and muskets were stacked. here they rapidly distributed the weapons and then broke across the tree trunks all they could not use or carry. another minute and they reached their horses, where the panther, panting from his huge exertions, joined them. ned helped the lame man upon one of the horses, the weakest two who remained, including the boy, were put upon the others, and led by the panther they started northward, leaving the chaparral. it was a singular march, but for a long time nothing was said. the sound of the mexican stampede could yet be heard, moving to the south, but they, rescuers and rescued, walked in silence save for the sound of their feet in the mud of the wind-swept plain. ned looked curiously at the faces of those whom they had saved, but the night had not lightened, and he could discern nothing. they went thus a full quarter of an hour. the noise of the stampede sank away in the south, and then the panther laughed. it was a deep, hearty, unctuous laugh that came from the very depths of the man's chest. it was a laugh with no trace of merely superficial joy. he who uttered it laughed because his heart and soul were in it. it was a laugh of mirth, relief and triumph, all carried to the highest degree. it was a long laugh, rising and falling, but when it ceased and the panther had drawn a deep breath he opened his mouth again and spoke the words that were in his mind. "i shorely did some rippin' an' roarin' then," he said. "it was the best chance i ever had, an' i guess i used it. how things did work for us! them sleepy sentinels, an' then the stampede of the animals, carryin' urrea an' the rest right away with it." "fortune certainly worked for us," said ned. "and we can find no words in which to describe to you our gratitude," said the crippled man on the horse. "we were informed very clearly by urrea that we were rebels and, under the decree of santa anna, would be executed. even our young friend here, this boy, william allen, would not have been spared." "we ain't all the way out of the woods yet," said the panther, not wishing to have their hopes rise too high and then fall. "of course urrea an' his men have some arms left. they wouldn't stack 'em all under the shed, an' they can get more from other mexicans in these parts. when they learn from their trailers how few we are they'll follow." the rescued were silent, save one, evidently a veteran frontiersman, who said: "let 'em come. i was took by surprise, not thinkin' any mexicans was north of the rio grande. but now that i've got a rifle on one shoulder an' a musket on the other i think i could thrash an acre-lot full of 'em." "that's the talk," said obed white. "we'll say to 'em: 'come one, come all, this rock from its firm base may fly, but we're the boys who'll never say die.'" they relapsed once more into silence. the rain had lightened a little, but the night was as dark as ever. the boy whom the man had called william allen drew up by the side of ned. they were of about the same height, and each was as tall and strong as a man. "have you any friends here with you?" asked ned. "all of them are my friends, but i made them in captivity. i came to texas to find my fortune, and i found this." the boy laughed, half in pity of himself, and half with genuine humor. "but i ought not to complain," he added, "when we've been saved in the most wonderful way. how did you ever happen to do it?" "we've been following you all the way from the other side of the rio grande, waiting a good chance. it came to-night with the darkness, the rain, and the carelessness of the mexicans. i heard the man call you william allen. my name is fulton, edward fulton, ned to my friends." "and mine's will to my friends." "and you and i are going to be friends, that's sure." "nothing can be surer." the hands of the two boys met in a strong grasp, signifying a friendship that was destined to endure. the panther and obed now began to seek a place for a camp. they knew that too much haste would mean a breakdown, and they meant that the people whom they had rescued should have a rest. but it took a long time to find the trees which would furnish wood and partial shelter. it was obed who made the happy discovery some time after midnight. turning to their left, they entered a grove of dwarf oaks, covering a half acre or so, and with much labor and striving built a fire. they made it a big fire, too, and fed it until the flames roared and danced. ned noticed that all the rescued prisoners crouched close to it, as if it were a giver of strength and courage as well as warmth, and now the light revealed their faces. he looked first at the crippled man, and the surprise that he had felt at his first glimpse of him increased. the stranger was of a type uncommon on the border. his large features showed cultivation and the signs of habitual and deep thought. his thick white hair surmounted a broad brow. his clothing, although torn by thorns and briars, was of fine quality. ned knew instinctively that it was a powerful face, one that seldom showed the emotions behind it. the rest, except the boy, were of the border, lean, sun-browned men, dressed in tanned deerskin. the panther and obed also gazed at the crippled man with great curiosity. they knew the difference, and they were surprised to find such a man in such a situation. he did not seem to notice them at first, but from his seat on a log leaned over the fire warming his hands, which ned saw were large, white and smooth. his legs lay loosely against the log, as if he were suffering from a species of paralysis. the others, soaked by the rain, which, however, now ceased, were also hovering over the fire which was giving new life to the blood in their veins. the man with the white hands turned presently and, speaking to ned, obed and the panther, said: "my name is roylston, john roylston." ned started. "i see that you have heard of it," continued the stranger, but without vanity. "yes, i am the merchant of new orleans. i have lands and other property in this region for which i have paid fairly. i hold the deeds and they are also guaranteed to me by santa anna and the mexican congress. i was seized by this guerilla leader, urrea. he knew who i was, and he sought to extract from me an order for a large sum of money lying in a european bank in the city of mexico. there are various ways of procuring such orders, and he tried one of the most primitive methods. that is why i cannot walk without help. no, i will not tell what was done. it is not pleasant to hear. let it pass. i shall walk again as well as ever in a month." "did he get the order?" asked obed curiously. roylston laughed deep in his throat. "he did not," he said. "it was not because i valued it so much, but my pride would not permit me to give way to such crude methods. i must say, however, that you three came just in time, and you have done a most marvelous piece of work." ned shuddered and walked a little space out on the plain to steady his nerves. he had never deceived himself about the dangers that the texans were facing, but it seemed that they would have to fight every kind of ferocity. when he returned, obed and the panther were building the fire higher. "we must get everybody good and dry," said the panther. "pursuit will come, but not to-night, an' we needn't worry about the blaze. we've food enough for all of you for a day, but we haven't the horses, an' for that i'm sorry. if we had them we could git away without a doubt to the texan army." "but not having them," said obed, "we'll even do the best we can, if the mexicans, having run away, come back to fight another day." "so we will," said a stalwart texan named fields. "that urrea don't get me again, and if i ain't mistook your friend here is mr. palmer, better known in our parts as the ring tailed panther, ain't he?" ned saw the panther's huge form swell. he still wore the great serape, which shone in the firelight with a deep blood-red tinge. "i am the ring tailed panther," he said proudly. "then lemme shake your hand. you an' your pards have done a job to-night that ain't had its like often, and me bein' one of them that's profited by it makes it look all the bigger to me." the panther graciously extended an enormous palm, and the great palm of fields met it in a giant clasp. a smile lighted up the somber face of mr. roylston as he looked at them. "often we find powerful friends when we least expect them," he said. "as you are the worst hurt of the lot," said the panther, "we're going to make you a bed right here by the fire. no, it ain't any use sayin' you won't lay down on it. if you won't we'll jest have to put you down." they spread a blanket, upon which the exhausted merchant lay, and they covered him with a serape. soon he fell asleep, and then fields said to ned and his comrades: "you fellows have done all the work, an' you've piled up such a mountain of debt against us that we can never wipe it out. now you go to sleep and four of us will watch. and, knowin' what would happen to us if we were caught, we'll watch well. but nothing is to be expected to-night." "suits us," said obed. "some must watch while others sleep, so runs the world away. bet you a dollar, ned, that i'm off to slumberland before you are." "i don't take the bet," said ned, "but i'll run you an even race." in exactly five minutes the two, rolled in their own blankets, slept soundly. all the others soon followed, except four, who, unlike the mexicans, kept a watch that missed nothing. chapter iii the fight with urrea morning came. up rose the sun, pouring a brilliant light over the desolate plains. beads of water from the rain the night before sparkled a little while and then dried up. but the day was cold, nevertheless, and a sharp wind now began to search for the weakest point of every one. ned, obed and the panther were up betimes, but some of the rescued still slept. ned, at the suggestion of the panther, mounted one of the horses and rode out on the plain a half mile to the south. those keen eyes of his were becoming all the keener from life upon the vast rolling plains. but no matter how he searched the horizon he saw only a lonesome cactus or two shivering in the wind. when he returned with his report the redoubtable panther said: "then we'll just take our time. the pursuit's goin' to come, but since it ain't in sight we'll brace up these new friends of ours with hot coffee an' vittles. i guess we've got coffee enough left for all." they lighted the fire anew and soon pleasant odors arose. the rescued prisoners ate and drank hungrily, and mr. roylston was able to limp a little. now that ned saw him in the full daylight he understood more clearly than ever that this was indeed a most uncommon man. the brow and eyes belonged to one who thought, planned and organized. he spoke little and made no complaint, but when he looked at ned he said: "you are young, my boy, to live among such dangers. why do you not go north into the states where life is safe?" "there are others as young as i, or younger, who have fought or will fight for texas," said ned. "i belong here and i've got powerful friends. two of them have saved my life more than once and are likely to do so again." he nodded toward obed and the panther, who were too far away to hear. roylston smiled. the two men were in singular contrast, but each was striking in his way. obed, of great height and very thin, but exceedingly strong, was like a steel lath. the panther, huge in every aspect, reminded one, in his size and strength, of a buffalo bull. "they are uncommon men, no doubt," said roylston. "and you expect to remain with them?" "i'd never leave them while this war lasts! not under any circumstances!" ned spoke with great energy, and again roylston smiled, but he said no more. "it's time to start," said the panther. roylston again mounted one of the horses. ned saw that it hurt his pride to have to ride, but he saw also that he would not complain when complaints availed nothing. he felt an increasing interest in a man who seemed to have perfect command over himself. the boy, will allen, was fresh and strong again. his youthful frame had recovered completely from all hardships, and now that he was free, armed, and in the company of true friends his face glowed with pleasure and enthusiasm. he was tall and strong, and now he carried a good rifle with a pistol also in his belt. he and ned walked side by side, and each rejoiced in the companionship of one of his own age. "how long have you been with them?" asked will, looking at obed and the panther. "i was first with obed away down in mexico. we were prisoners together in the submarine dungeon of san juan de ulua. i'd never have escaped without him. and i'd never have escaped a lot more things without him, either. then we met the panther. he's the greatest frontiersman in all the southwest, and we three somehow have become hooked together." will looked at ned a little enviously. "what comrades you three must be!" he said. "i have nobody." "are you going to fight for texas?" "i count on doing so." "then why don't you join us, and we three will turn into four?" will looked at ned, and his eyes glistened. "do you mean that?" he asked. "do i mean it? i think i do. ho, there, panther! you and obed, just a minute or two!" the two turned back. ned and will were walking at the rear of the little company. "i've asked will to be one of us," said ned, "to join our band and to share our fortunes, good or bad." "can he make all the signs, an' has he rid the goat?" asked the panther solemnly. "does he hereby swear never to tell any secret of ours to mexican or indian?" asked obed. "does he swear to obey all our laws and by-laws wherever he may be, and whenever he is put to the test?" "he swears to everything," replied ned, "and i know that he is the kind to make a trusty comrade to the death." "then you are declared this minute a member of our company in good standin'," said the panther to will, "an' with this grip i give you welcome." he crushed the boy's hand in a mighty grasp that made him wince, and obed followed with one that was almost equally severe. but the boy did not mind the physical pain. instead, his soul was uplifted. he was now the chosen comrade of these three paladins, and he was no longer alone in the world. but he merely said: "i'll try to show myself worthy." they were compelled to stop at noon for rather a long rest, as walking was tiresome. fields, who was a good scout, went back and looked for pursuers, but announced that he saw none, and, after an hour, they started again. "i'm thinkin'," said the panther, "that urrea has already organized the pursuit. mebbe he has pow'ful glasses an' kin see us when we can't see him. he may mean to attack to-night. it's a lucky thing for us that we can find timber now an' then." "it's likely that you're right about to-night," said obed, "but there's no night so dark that it doesn't have its silver lining. i guess everybody in this little crowd is a good shot, unless maybe it's mr. roylston, and as we have about three guns apiece we can make it mighty hot for any force that urrea may bring against us." they began now to search for timber, looking especially for some clump of trees that also inclosed water. they did not anticipate any great difficulty in regard to the water, as the winter season and the heavy rains had filled the dry creek beds, and had sent torrents down the arroyos. before dark they found a stream about a foot deep running over sand between banks seven or eight feet high toward the rio grande. a mile further on a small grove of myrtle oaks and pecans grew on its left bank, and there they made their camp. feeling that they must rely upon their valor and watchfulness, and not upon secrecy, they built a fire, and ate a good supper. then they put out the fire and half of them remained on guard, the other half going to sleep, except roylston, who sat with his back to a tree, his injured legs resting upon a bed of leaves which the boys had raked up for him. he had been riding old jack and the horse had seemed to take to him, but after the stop ned himself had looked after his mount. the boy allowed old jack to graze a while, and then he tethered him in the thickest of the woods just behind the sleeping man. he wished the horse to be as safe as possible in case bullets should be flying, and he could find no better place for him. but before going he stroked his nose and whispered in his ear. "good old jack! brave fellow!" he said. "we are going to have troublous times, you and i, along with the others, but i think we are going to ride through them safely." the horse whinnied ever so softly, and nuzzled ned's arm. the understanding between them was complete. then ned left him, intending to take a position by the bank of the creek as he was on the early watch. on the way he passed roylston, who regarded him attentively. "i judge that your leader, mr. palmer, whom you generally call the panther, is expecting an attack," said the merchant. "he's the kind of man who tries to provide for everything," replied ned. "of course, then," said roylston, "he provides for the creek bed. the mexican skirmishers can come up it and yet be protected by its banks." "that is so," said the panther, who had approached as he was speaking. "it's the one place that we've got to watch most, an' ned an' me are goin' to sit there on the banks, always lookin'. i see that you've got the eye of a general, mr. roylston." the merchant smiled. "i'm afraid i don't count for much in battle," he said, "and least of all hampered as i am now. but if the worst comes to the worst i can sit here with my back to this tree and shoot. if you will kindly give me a rifle and ammunition i shall be ready for the emergency." "but it is your time to sleep, mr. roylston," said the panther. "i don't think i can sleep, and as i cannot i might as well be of use." the panther brought him the rifle, powder and bullets, and roylston, leaning against the tree, rifle across his knees, watched with bright eyes. sentinels were placed at the edge of the grove, but the panther and ned, as arranged, were on the high bank overlooking the bed of the creek. now and then they walked back and forth, meeting at intervals, but most of the time each kept to his own particular part of the ground. ned found an oak, blown down on the bank by some hurricane, and as there was a comfortable seat on a bough with the trunk as a rest for his back he remained there a long time. but his ease did not cause him to relax his vigilance. he was looking toward the north, and he could see two hundred yards or more up the creek bed to a point where it curved. the bed itself was about thirty feet wide, although the water did not have a width of more than ten feet. everything was now quite dry, as the wind had been blowing all day. but the breeze had died with the night, and the camp was so still that ned could hear the faint trickle of the water over the sand. it was a fair night, with a cold moon and cold stars looking down. the air was full of chill, and ned began to walk up and down again in order to keep warm. he noticed roylston still sitting with eyes wide open and the rifle across his lap. as ned came near in his walk the merchant turned his bright eyes upon him. "i hear," he said, "that you have seen santa anna." "more than once. several times when i was a prisoner in mexico, and again when i was recaptured." "what do you think of him?" the gaze of the bright eyes fixed upon ned became intense and concentrated. "a great man! a wickedly great man!" roylston turned his look away, and interlaced his fingers thoughtfully. "a good description, i think," he said. "you have chosen your words well. a singular compound is this mexican, a mixture of greatness, vanity and evil. i may talk to you more of him some day. but i tell you now that i am particularly desirous of not being carried a prisoner to him." he lifted the rifle, put its stock to his shoulder, and drew a bead. "i think i could hit at forty or fifty yards in this good moonlight," he said. he replaced the rifle across his knees and sighed. ned was curious, but he would not ask questions, and he walked back to his old position by the bank. here he made himself easy, and kept his eyes on the deep trench that had been cut by the stream. the shadows were dark against the bank, but it seemed to him that they were darker than they had been before. ned's blood turned a little colder, and his scalp tingled. he was startled but not afraid. he looked intently, and saw moving figures in the river bed, keeping close against the bank. he could not see faces, he could not even discern a clear outline of the figures, but he had no doubt that these were urrea's mexicans. he waited only a moment longer to assure himself that the dark moving line was fact and not fancy. then, aiming his rifle at the foremost shape, he fired. while the echo of the sharp crack was yet speeding across the plain he cried: "up, men! up! urrea is here!" a volley came from the creek bed, but in an instant the panther, obed, will and fields were by ned's side. "down on your faces," cried the panther, "an' pot 'em as they run! so they thought to go aroun' the grove, come down from the north an' surprise us this way! give it to 'em, boys!" the rifles flashed and the dark line in the bed of the creek now broke into a huddle of flying forms. three fell, but the rest ran, splashing through the sand and water, until they turned the curve and were protected from the deadly bullets. then the panther, calling to the others, rushed to the other side of the grove, where a second attack, led by urrea in person, had been begun. here men on horseback charged directly at the wood, but they were met by a fire which emptied more than one saddle. much of the charge was a blur to ned, a medley of fire and smoke, of beating hoofs and of cries. but one thing he saw clearly and never forgot. it was the lame man with the thick white hair sitting with his back against a tree calmly firing a rifle at the mexicans. roylston had time for only two shots, but when he reloaded the second time he placed the rifle across his knees as before and smiled. most mexican troops would have been content with a single charge, but these returned, encouraged by shouts and driven on by fierce commands. ned saw a figure waving a sword. he believed it to be urrea, and he fired, but he missed, and the next moment the horseman was lost in the shadows. the second charge was beaten back like the first, and several skirmishers who tried to come anew down the bed of the creek were also put to flight. two mexicans got into the thickets and tried to stampede the horses, but the quickness of obed and fields defeated their aim. one of the mexicans fell there, but the other escaped in the darkness. when the second charge was driven back and the horses were quieted the panther and obed threshed up the woods, lest some mexican musketeer should lie hidden there. nobody slept any more that night. ned, will and the panther kept a sharp watch upon the bed of the creek, the moon and stars fortunately aiding them. but the mexicans did not venture again by that perilous road, although toward morning they opened a scattering fire from the plain, many of their bullets whistling at random among the trees and thickets. some of the texans, crawling to the edge of the wood, replied, but they seemed to have little chance for a good shot, as the mexicans lay behind a swell. the besiegers grew tired after a while and silence came again. three of the texans had suffered slight wounds, but the panther and fields bound them up skillfully. it was still light enough for these tasks. fields was particularly jubilant over their success, as he had a right to be. the day before he could look forward only to his own execution. now he was free and victorious. exultantly he hummed: you've heard, i s'pose, of new orleans, it's famed for youth and beauty; there are girls of every hue, it seems, from snowy white to sooty. now packenham has made his brags, if he that day was lucky, he'd have the girls and cotton bags in spite of old kentucky. but jackson, he was wide awake, and was not scared at trifles, for well he knew kentucky's boys, with their death-dealing rifles. he led them down to cypress swamp, the ground was low and mucky; there stood john bull in martial pomp, and here stood old kentucky. "pretty good song, that of yours," said the panther approvingly. "where did you get it?" "from my father," replied fields. "he's a kentuckian, an' he fit at new orleans. he was always hummin' that song, an' it come back to me after we drove off the mexicans. struck me that it was right timely." ned and will, on their own initiative, had been drawing all the fallen logs that they could find and move to the edge of the wood, and having finished the task they came back to the bed of the creek. roylston, the rifle across his knees, was sitting with his eyes closed, but he opened them as they approached. they were uncommonly large and bright eyes, and they expressed pleasure. "it gratifies me to see that neither of you is hurt," he said. "this has been a strange night for two who are as young as you are. and it is a strange night for me, too. i never before thought that i should be firing at any one with intent to kill. but events are often too powerful for us." he closed his eyes again. "i am going to sleep a little, if i can," he said. but ned and will could not sleep. they went to ned's old position at the edge of the creek bed, and together watched the opening dawn. they saw the bright sun rise over the great plains, and the dew sparkle for a little while on the brown grass. the day was cold, but apparently it had come with peace. they saw nothing on the plain, although they had no doubt that the mexicans were waiting just beyond the first swell. but ned and will discerned three dark objects lying on the sand up the bed of the creek, and they knew that they were the men who had fallen in the first rush. ned was glad that he could not see their faces. at the suggestion of the panther they lighted fires and had warm food and coffee again, thus putting heart into all the defenders. then the panther chose ned for a little scouting work on horseback. ned found old jack seeking blades of grass within the limits allowed by his lariat. but when the horse saw his master he stretched out his head and neighed. "i think i understand you," said ned. "not enough food and no water. well, i'll see that you get both later, but just now we're going on a little excursion." the panther and ned rode boldly out of the trees, and advanced a short distance upon the plain. two or three shots were fired from a point behind the first swell, but the bullets fell far short. "i counted on that," said the panther. "if a mexican has a gun it's mighty hard for him to keep from firing it. all we wanted to do was to uncover their position an' we've done it. we'll go back now, an' wait fur them to make the first move." but they did not go just yet. a man on horseback waving a large white handkerchief appeared on the crest of the swell and rode toward them. it was urrea. "he knows that he can trust us, while we don't know that we can trust him," said the panther, "so we'll just wait here an' see what he has to say." urrea, looking fresh and spirited, came on with confidence and saluted in a light easy fashion. the two americans did not return the salute, but waited gravely. "we can be polite, even if we are enemies," said urrea, "so i say good morning to you both, former friends of mine." "i have no friendship with spies and traitors," growled the panther. "i serve my country in the way i think best," said urrea, "and you must remember that in our view you two are rebels and traitors." "we don't stab in the back," said the panther. urrea flushed through his swarthy skin. "we will not argue the point any further," he said, "but come at once to the business before us. first, i will admit several things. your rescue of the prisoners was very clever. also you beat us off last night, but i now have a hundred men with me and we have plenty of arms. we are bound to take you sooner or later." "then why talk to us about it?" said the panther. "because i wish to save bloodshed." "wa'al, then, what do you have to say?" "give us the man, roylston, and the rest of you can go free." "why are you so anxious to have roylston?" ned eagerly awaited the answer. it was obvious that roylston had rather minimized his own importance. urrea flicked the mane of his mustang with a small whip and replied: "our president and general, the illustrious santa anna, is extremely anxious to see him. secrets of state are not for me. i merely seek to do my work." "then you take this from me," said the panther, a blunt frontiersman, "my comrades an' me ain't buyin' our lives at the price of nobody else's." "you feel that way about it, do you?" "that's just the way we feel, and i want to say, too, that i wouldn't take the word of either you or your santa anna. if we was to give up mr. roylston--which we don't dream of doin'--you'd be after us as hot an' strong as ever." urrea's swarthy cheeks flushed again. "i shall not notice your insults," he said. "they are beneath me. i am a mexican officer and gentleman, and you are mere riders of the plains." "all the same," said the panther grimly, "if you are goin' to talk you have to talk with us." "that is true," said urrea lightly, having regained complete control of his temper. "in war one cannot choose his enemies. i make you the proposition once more. give us roylston and go. if you do not accept we shall nevertheless take him and all of you who do not fall first. remember that you are rebels and traitors and that you will surely be shot or hanged." "i don't remember any of them things," said the panther grimly. "what i do remember is that we are texans fightin' fur our rights. to hang a man you've first got to catch him, an' to shoot him you've first got to hit him. an' since things are to be remembered, remember that what you are tryin' to do to us we may first do to you. an' with that i reckon we'll bid you good day, mr. urrea." urrea bowed, but said nothing. he rode back toward his men, and ned and the panther returned to the grove. roylston was much better that morning and he was able to stand, leaning against a tree. "may i ask the result of your conference," he said. "there ain't no secret about it," replied the panther, "but them mexicans seem to be almighty fond of you, mr. roylston." "in what way did they show it?" "urrea said that all of us could go if we would give up you." "and your answer?" the panther leaned forward a little on his horse. "you know something about the texans, don't you, mr. roylston?" "i have had much opportunity to observe and study them." "well, they've got plenty of faults, but you haven't heard of them buyin' their lives at the price of a comrade's, have you?" "i have not, but i wish to say, mr. palmer, that i'm sorry you returned this answer. i should gladly take my chances if the rest of you could go." "we'd never think of it," said the panther. "besides, them mexicans wouldn't keep their word. they're goin' to besiege us here, hopin' maybe that starvation or thirst will make us give you up. now the first thing for us to do is to get water for the horses." this presented a problem, as the horses could not go down to the creek, owing to the steep high banks, but the texans soon solved it. the cliff was soft and they quickly cut a smooth sloping path with their knives and hatchets. old jack was the first to walk down it and ned led him. the horse hung back a little, but ned patted his head and talked to him as a friend and equal. under such persuasion old jack finally made the venture, and when he landed safely at the bottom he drank eagerly. then the other two horses followed. meanwhile two riflemen kept a keen watch up and down the creek bed for lurking mexican sharpshooters. but the watering of the horses was finished without incident, and they were tethered once more in the thicket. fields and another man kept a watch upon the plain, and the rest conferred under the trees. the panther announced that by a great reduction of rations the food could be made to last two days longer. it was not a cheerful statement, as the mexicans must know the scanty nature of their supplies, and would wait with all the patience of indians. "all things, including starvation, come to him who waits long enough," said obed white soberly. "we'll jest set the day through," said the panther, "an' see what turns up." but the day was quite peaceful. it was warmer than usual and bright with sunshine. the mexicans appeared on some of the knolls, seemingly near in the thin clear air, but far enough away to be out of rifle shot, and began to play cards or loll on their serapes. several went to sleep. "they mean to show us that they have all the time in the world," said ned to will, "and that they are willing to wait until we fall like ripe apples into their hands." "do you think they will get us again?" asked will anxiously. "i don't. we've got food for two days and i believe that something will happen in our favor within that time. do you notice, will, that it's beginning to cloud up again? in winter you can't depend upon bright sunshine to last always. i think we're going to have a dark night and it's given me an idea." "what is it?" "i won't tell you, because it may amount to nothing. it all depends upon what kind of night we have." the sun did not return. the clouds banked up more heavily, and in the afternoon ned went to the panther. they talked together earnestly, looking frequently at the skies, and the faces of both expressed satisfaction. then they entered the bed of the creek and examined it critically. will was watching them. when the two separated and ned came toward him, he said: "i can guess your idea now. we mean to escape to-night up the bed of the creek." ned nodded. "your first guess is good," he said. "if the promise of a dark night keeps up we're going to try." the promise was fulfilled. the mexicans made no hostile movement throughout the afternoon, but they maintained a rigid watch. when the sun had set and the thick night had come down the panther told of the daring enterprise they were about to undertake, and all approved. by nine o'clock the darkness was complete, and the little band gathered at the point where the path was cut down into the bed of the creek. it was likely that mexicans were on all sides of the grove, but the panther did not believe that any of them, owing to bitter experience, would enter the cut made by the stream. but, as leader, he insisted upon the least possible noise. the greatest difficulty would be with the horses. ned, at the head of old jack, led the way. old jack made the descent without slipping and in a few minutes the entire force stood upon the sand. they had made no sound that any one could have heard thirty yards away. "now mr. roylston," whispered the panther to the merchant, "you get on ned's horse an' we'll be off." roylston sighed. it hurt his pride that he should be a burden, but he was a man of few words, and he mounted in silence. then they moved slowly over the soft sand. they had loaded the extra rifles and muskets on the other two horses, but every man remained thoroughly armed and ready on the instant for any emergency. the panther and obed led. just behind them came ned and will. they went very slowly in order to keep the horses' feet from making any sound that listening mexican sentinels might hear. they were fortunate in the sand, which was fine and soundless like a carpet. ned thought that the mexicans would not make any attempt upon the grove until late at night, and then only with skirmishers and snipers. or they might not make any attempt at all, content with their cordon. but it was thrilling work as they crept along on the soft sand in the darkness and between the high banks. ned felt a prickling of the blood. an incautious footstep or a stumble by one of the horses might bring the whole mexican force down upon them at any moment. but there was no incautious footstep. nor did any horse stumble. the silent procession moved on, passed the curve in the bed of the creek and continued its course. urrea had surrounded the grove completely. his men were on both sides of the creek, but no sound came to them, and they had a healthy respect for the deadly texan rifles. their leader had certainly been wise in deciding to starve them out. meanwhile the little procession in the bed of the creek increased its speed slightly. the texans were now a full four hundred yards from the grove, and their confidence was rising. "if they don't discover our absence until morning," whispered ned to will, "we'll surely get away." "then i hope they won't discover it until then," said will fervently. "i don't want to die in battle just now, nor do i want to be executed in mexico for a rebel or for anything else." they were now a full mile from the grove and the banks of the creek were decreasing in height. they did not rise anywhere more than three or four feet. but the water increased in depth and the margin of sand was narrower. the panther called a halt and they listened. they heard no sound but the faint moaning of the wind among the dips and swells, and the long lone howl of a lonesome coyote. "we've slipped through 'em! by the great horn spoon, we've slipped through 'em!" said the panther exultantly. "now, boys, we'll take to the water here to throw 'em off our track, when they try to follow it in the mornin'." the creek was now about three feet in depth and flowing slowly like most streams in that region, but over a bed of hard sand, where the trace of a footstep would quickly vanish. "the water is likely to be cold," said the panther, "an' if any fellow is afraid of it he can stay behind and consort with the mexicans who don't care much for water." "lead on, macduff," said obed, "and there's nobody who will cry 'hold, enough.'" the panther waded directly into the middle of the stream, and all the others followed. the horses, splashing the water, made some noise, but they were not so careful in that particular now since they had put a mile between themselves and the grove. in fact, the panther urged them to greater speed, careless of the sounds, and they kept in the water for a full two miles further. then they quit the stream at a point where the soil seemed least likely to leave traces of their footsteps, and stood for a little while upon the prairie, resting and shivering. then they started at a rapid pace across the country, pushing for the rio grande until noon. then fields stalked and shot an antelope, with which they renewed their supply of food. in the afternoon it rained heavily, but by dark they reached the rio grande, across which they made a dangerous passage, as the waters had risen, and stood once more on the soil of texas. "thank god!" said will. "thank god!" repeated ned. then they looked for shelter, which all felt they must have. chapter iv the cabin in the woods it proved a difficult matter to find shelter. all the members of the little group were wet and cold, and a bitter wind with snow began to whistle once more across the plain. but every one strove to be cheerful and the relief that their escape had brought was still a tonic to their spirits. yet they were not without comment upon their condition. "i've seen hard winters in maine," said obed white, "but there you were ready for them. here it tricks you with warm sunshine and then with snow. you suffer from surprise." "we've got to find a cabin," said the panther. "why not make it a whole city with a fine big hotel right in the center of it?" said obed. "seems to me there's about as much chance of one as the other." "no, there ain't," said the panther. "there ain't no town, but there are huts. i've rid over this country for twenty year an' i know somethin' about it. there are four or five settlers' cabins in the valleys of the creeks runnin' down to the rio grande. i had a mighty good dinner at one of 'em once. they're more'n likely to be abandoned now owin' to the war an' their exposed situation, but if the roofs haven't fell in any of 'em is good enough for us." "then you lead on," said obed. "the quicker we get there the happier all of us will be." "i may not lead straight, but i'll get you there," replied the panther confidently. roylston, at his own urgent insistence, dismounted and walked a little while. when he betook himself again to the back of old jack he spoke with quiet confidence. "i'm regaining my strength rapidly," he said. "in a week or two i shall be as good as i ever was. meanwhile my debt to you, already great, is accumulating." the panther laughed. "you don't owe us nothin'," he said. "why, on this frontier it's one man's business to help another out of a scrape. if we didn't do that we couldn't live." "nevertheless, i shall try to pay it," said roylston, in significant tones. "for the moment we'll think of that hut we're lookin' for," said the panther. "it will be more than a hut," said will, who was of a singularly cheerful nature. "i can see it now. it will be a gorgeous palace. its name will be the inn of the panther. menials in gorgeous livery will show us to our chambers, one for every man, where we will sleep between white sheets of the finest linen." "i wonder if they will let us take our rifles to bed with us," said ned, "because in this country i don't feel that i can part with mine, even for a moment." "that is a mere detail which we will discuss with our host," said obed. "perhaps, after you have eaten of the chicken and drunk of the wine at this glorious inn of the panther, you will not be so particular about the company of your rifle, mr. fulton." the panther uttered a cry of joy. "i've got my b'arin's exactly now," he said. "it ain't more'n four miles to a cabin that i know of, an' if raiders haven't smashed it it'll give us all the shelter we want." "then lead us swiftly," said obed. "there's no sunset or anything to give me mystical lore, but the coming of that cabin casts its shadow before, or at least i want it to do it." the panther's announcement brought new courage to every one and they quickened their lagging footsteps. he led toward a dark line of timber which now began to show through the driving snow, and when they passed among the trees he announced once more and with exultation: "only a mile farther, boys, an' we'll be where the cabin stands, or stood. don't git your feelin's too high, 'cause it may have been wiped off the face of the earth." a little later he uttered another cry, and this was the most exultant of all. "there she is," he said, pointing ahead. "she ain't been wiped away by nobody or nothin'. don't you see her, that big, stout cabin ahead?" "i do," said young allen joyously, "and it's the inn of the panther as sure as you live." "but i don't see any smoke coming out of the chimney," said ned, "and there are no gorgeous menials standing on the doorstep waiting for us." "it's been abandoned a long time," said the panther. "i can tell that by its looks, but i'm thinkin' that it's good enough fur us an' mighty welcome. an' there's a shed behind the house that'll do for the horses. boys, we're travelin' in tall luck." the cabin, a large one, built of logs and adobe, was certainly a consoling sight. they had almost reached the limit of physical endurance, but they broke into a run to reach it. the panther and ned were the first to push open a heavy swinging door, and they entered side by side. it was dry within. the solid board roof did not seem to be damaged at all, and the floor of hard, packed earth was as dry as a bone also. at one end were a wide stone fireplace, cold long since, and a good chimney of mud and sticks. there were two windows, closed with heavy clapboard shutters. there was no furniture in the cabin except two rough wooden benches. evidently the original owners had prepared well for their flight, but it was likely that no one had come since. the lonely place among the trees had passed unobserved by raiders. the shed behind the cabin was also in good condition, and they tethered there the horses, which were glad enough to escape from the bitter wind and driving snow. the whole party gathered in the cabin, and as they no longer feared pursuit it was agreed unanimously that they must have luxury. in this case a fire meant the greatest of all luxuries. they gathered an abundance of fallen wood, knocked the snow from it and heaped it on either side of the fireplace. they cut with infinite difficulty dry shavings from the inside of the logs in the wall of the house, and after a full hour of hard work lighted a blaze with flint and steel. the rest was easy, and soon they had a roaring fire. they fastened the door with the wooden bar which stood in its place and let the windows remain shut. although there was a lack of air, they did not yet feel it, and gave themselves up to the luxury of the glowing heat. they took off their clothes and held them before the fire. when they were dry and warm they put them on again and felt like new beings. strips of the antelope were fried on the ends of ramrods, and they ate plentifully. all the chill was driven from their bodies, and in its place came a deep pervading sense of comfort. the bitter wind yet howled without and they heard the snow driven against the door and windows. the sound heightened their feeling of luxury. they were like a troop of boys now, all of them--except roylston. he sat on one of the piles of wood and his eyes gleamed as the others talked. "i vote that we enlarge the name of our inn," said allen. "since our leader has black hair and black eyes, let's call it the inn of the black panther. all in favor of that motion say 'aye.'" "aye!" they roared. "all against it say 'no.'" silence. "the inn of the black panther it is," said will, "an' it is the most welcome inn that ever housed me." the panther smiled benevolently. "i don't blame you boys for havin' a little fun," he said. "it does feel good to be here after all that we've been through." the joy of the texans was irrepressible. fields began to pat and three or four of them danced up and down the earthen floor of the cabin. will watched with dancing eyes. ned, more sober, sat by his side. however, the highest spirits must grow calm at last, and gradually the singing and dancing ceased. it had grown quite close in the cabin now, and one of the window shutters was thrown open, permitting a rush of cool, fresh air that was very welcome. ned looked out. the wind was still whistling and moaning, and the snow, like a white veil, hid the trees. the men one by one went to sleep on the floor. obed and fields kept watch at the window during the first half of the night, and the panther and ned relieved them for the second half. they heard nothing but the wind, and saw nothing but the snow. day came with a hidden sun, and the fine snow still driven by the wind, but the panther, a good judge of weather, predicted a cessation of the snow within an hour. the men awoke and rose slowly from the floor. they were somewhat stiff, but no one had been overcome, and after a little stretching of the muscles all the soreness disappeared. the horses were within the shed, unharmed and warm, but hungry. they relighted the fire and broiled more strips of the antelope, but they saw that little would be left. the panther turned to roylston, who inspired respect in them all. "now, mr. roylston," he said, "we've got to agree upon some course of action an' we've got to put it to ourselves squar'ly. i take it that all of us want to serve texas in one way or another, but we've got only three horses, we're about out of food, an' we're a long distance from the main texas settlements. it ain't any use fur us to start to rippin' an' t'arin' unless we've got somethin' to rip an' t'ar with." "good words," said obed white. "a speech in time saves errors nine." "i am glad you have put the question, mr. palmer," said roylston. "our affairs have come to a crisis, and we must consider. i, too, wish to help texas, but i can help it more by other ways than battle." it did not occur to any of them to doubt him. he had already established over them the mental ascendency that comes from a great mind used to dealing with great affairs. "but we are practically dismounted," he continued. "it is winter and we do not know what would happen to us if we undertook to roam over the prairies as we are. on the other hand, we have an abundance of arms and ammunition and a large and well-built cabin. i suggest that we supply ourselves with food, and stay here until we can acquire suitable mounts. we may also contrive to keep a watch upon any mexican armies that may be marching north. i perhaps have more reason than any of you for hastening away, but i can spend the time profitably in regaining the use of my limbs." "your little talk sounds mighty good to me," said the panther. "in fact, i don't see anything else to do. this cabin must have been built an' left here 'speshully fur us. we know, too, that the texans have all gone home, thinkin' that the war is over, while we know different an' mebbe we can do more good here than anywhere else. what do you say, boys? do we stay?" "we stay," replied all together. they went to work at once fitting up their house. more firewood was brought in. fortunately the men had been provided with hatchets, in the frontier style, which their rescuers had not neglected to bring away, and they fixed wooden hooks in the walls for their extra arms and clothing. a half dozen scraped away a large area of the thin snow and enabled the horses to find grass. a fine spring two hundred yards away furnished a supply of water. after the horses had eaten obed, the panther and ned rode away in search of game, leaving mr. roylston in command at the cabin. the snow was no longer falling, and that which lay on the ground was melting rapidly. "i know this country," said the panther, "an' we've got four chances for game. it may be buffalo, it may be deer, it may be antelope, and it may be wild turkeys. i think it most likely that we'll find buffalo. we're so fur west of the main settlements that they're apt to hang 'roun' here in the winter in the creek bottoms, an' if it snows they'll take to the timber fur shelter." "and it has snowed," said ned. "jest so, an' that bein' the case we'll search the timber. of course big herds couldn't crowd in thar, but in this part of the country we gen'rally find the buffalo scattered in little bands." they found patches of forest, generally dwarfed in character, and looked diligently for the great game. once a deer sprang out of a thicket, but sped away so fast they did not get a chance for a shot. at length obed saw large footprints in the thinning snow, and called the panther's attention to them. the big man examined the traces critically. "not many hours old," he said. "i'm thinkin' that we'll have buffalo steak fur supper. we'll scout all along this timber. what we want is a young cow. their meat is not tough." they rode through the timber for about two hours, when ned caught sight of moving figures on the far side of a thicket. he could just see the backs of large animals, and he knew that there were their buffalo. he pointed them out to the panther, who nodded. "we'll ride 'roun' the thicket as gently as possible," he said, "an' then open fire. remember, we want a tender young cow, two of 'em if we can get 'em, an' don't fool with the bulls." ned's heart throbbed as old jack bore him around the thicket. he had fought with men, but he was not yet a buffalo hunter. just as they turned the flank of the bushes a huge buffalo bull, catching their odor, raised his head and uttered a snort. the panther promptly fired at a young cow just beyond him. the big bull, either frightened or angry, leaped head down at old jack. the horse was without experience with buffaloes, but he knew that those sharp horns meant no good to him, and he sprang aside with so much agility that ned was almost unseated. the big bull rushed on, and ned, who had retained his hold upon his rifle, was tempted to take a shot at him for revenge, but, remembering the panther's injunction, he controlled the impulse and fired at a young cow. when the noise and confusion were over and the surviving buffaloes had lumbered away, they found that they had slain two of the young cows and that they had an ample supply of meat. "ned," said the panther, "you know how to go back to the cabin, don't you?" "i can go straight as an arrow." "then ride your own horse, lead the other two an' bring two men. we'll need 'em with the work here." the panther and obed were already at work skinning the cows. ned sprang upon old jack, and rode away at a trot, leading the other two horses by their lariats. the snow was gone now and the breeze was almost balmy. ned felt that great rebound of the spirits of which the young are so capable. they had outwitted urrea, they had taken his prisoners from him, and then had escaped across the rio grande. they had found shelter and now they had obtained a food supply. they were all good comrades together, and what more was to be asked? he whistled as he rode along, but when he was half way back to the cabin he noticed something in a large tree that caused him to stop. he saw the outlines of great bronze birds, and he knew that they were wild turkeys. wild turkeys would make a fine addition to their larder, and, halting old jack, he shot from his back, taking careful aim at the largest of the turkeys. the huge bird fell, and as the others flew away ned was lucky enough to bring down a second with a pistol shot. his trophies were indeed worth taking, and tying their legs together with a withe he hung them across his saddle bow. he calculated that the two together weighed nearly sixty pounds, and he rode triumphantly when he came in sight of the cabin. will saw him first and gave a shout that drew the other men. "what luck?" hailed young allen. "not much," replied ned, "but i did get these sparrows." he lifted the two great turkeys from his saddle and tossed them to will. the boy caught them, but he was borne to his knees by their weight. the men looked at them and uttered approving words. "what did you do with the panther and obed?" asked fields. "the last i saw of them they had been dismounted and were being chased over the plain by two big bull buffaloes. the horns of the buffaloes were then not more than a foot from the seats of their trousers. so i caught their horses, and i have brought them back to camp." "i take it," said fields, "that you've had good luck." "we have had the finest of luck," replied ned. "we ran into a group of fifteen or twenty buffaloes, and we brought down two fine, young cows. i came back for two more men to help with them, and on my way i shot these turkeys." fields and another man named carter returned with ned. young allen was extremely anxious to go, but the others were chosen on account of their experience with the work. they found that obed and the panther had already done the most of it, and when it was all finished fields and carter started back with the three horses, heavily laden. as the night promised to be mild, and the snow was gone, ned, obed and the panther remained in the grove with the rest of their food supply. they also wished to preserve the two buffalo robes, and they staked them out upon the ground, scraping them clean of flesh with their knives. then they lighted a fire and cooked as much of the tender meat as they wished. by this time it was dark and they were quite ready to rest. they put out the fire and raked up the beds of leaves on which they would spread their blankets. but first they enjoyed the relaxation of the nerves and the easy talk that come after a day's work well done. "it certainly has been a fine day for us," said obed. "sometimes i like to go through the bad days, because it makes the good days that follow all the better. yesterday we were wandering around in the snow, and we had nothing, to-day we have a magnificent city home, that is to say, the cabin, and a beautiful country place, that is to say, this grove. i can add, too, that our nights in our country place are spent to the accompaniment of music. listen to that beautiful song, won't you?" a long, whining howl rose, sank and died. after an interval they heard its exact duplicate and the panther remarked tersely: "wolves. mighty hungry, too. they've smelled our buffalo meat and they want it. guess from their big voices that they're timber wolves and not coyotes." ned knew that the timber wolf was a much larger and fiercer animal than his prairie brother, and he did not altogether like this whining sound which now rose and died for the third time. "must be a dozen or so," said the panther, noticing the increasing volume of sound. "we'll light the fire again. nothing is smarter than a wolf, an' i don't want one of those hulkin' brutes to slip up, seize a fine piece of buffalo and dash away with it. but fire will hold 'em. how a wolf does dread it! the little red flame is like a knife in his heart." they lighted four small fires, making a rude ring which inclosed their leafy beds and the buffalo skins and meat. before they finished the task they saw slim dusky figures among the trees and red eyes glaring at them. the panther picked up a stick blazing like a torch, and made a sudden rush for one of the figures. there was a howl of terror and a sound of something rushing madly through the bushes. the panther flung his torch as far as he could in the direction of the sounds and returned, laughing deep in his throat. "i think i came pretty near hittin' the master wolf with that," he said, "an' i guess he's good an' scared. but they'll come back after a while, an' don't you forget it. for that reason, i think we'd better keep a watch. we'll divide it into three hours apiece, an' we'll give you the first, ned." ned was glad to have the opening watch, as it would soon be over and done with, and then he could sleep free from care about any watch to come. the panther and obed rolled in their blankets, found sleep almost instantly, and the boy, resolved not to be a careless sentinel, walked in a circle just outside the fires. sure enough, and just as the panther had predicted, he saw the red eyes and dusky forms again. now and then he heard a faint pad among the bushes, and he knew that a wolf had made it. he merely changed from the outside to the inside of the fire ring, and continued his walk. with the fire about him and his friends so near he was not afraid of wolves, no matter how big and numerous they might be. yet their presence in the bushes, the light shuffle of their feet and their fiery eyes had an uncanny effect. it was unpleasant to know that such fierce beasts were so near, and he gave himself a reassuring glance at the sleeping forms of his partners. by and by the red eyes melted away, and he heard another soft tread, but heavier than that of the wolves. with his rifle lying in the hollow of his arm and his finger on the trigger he looked cautiously about the circle of the forest. ned's gaze at last met that of a pair of red eyes, a little further apart than those of the wolves. he knew then that they belonged to a larger animal, and presently he caught a glimpse of the figure. he was sure that it was a puma or cougar, and so far as he could judge it was a big brute. it, too, must be very hungry, or it would not dare the fire and the human odor. ned felt tentatively of his rifle, but changed his mind. he remembered the panther's exploit with the firebrand, and he decided to imitate it, but on a much larger scale. he laid down his rifle, but kept his left hand on the butt of the pistol in his belt. then selecting the largest torch from the fire he made a rush straight for the blazing eyes, thrusting the flaming stick before him. there was a frightened roar, and then the sound of a heavy body crashing away through the undergrowth. ned returned, satisfied that he had done as well as the panther and better. both the panther and obed were awake and sitting up. they looked curiously at ned, who still carried the flaming brand in his hand. "a noise like the sound of thunder away off wakened me up," said the panther. "now, what have you been up to, young 'un?" "me?" said ned lightly. "oh, nothing important. i wanted to make some investigations in natural history out there in the bushes, and as i needed a light for the purpose i took it." "an' if i'm not pressin' too much," said the panther, in mock humility, "may i make so bold as to ask our young solomon what is natural history?" "natural history is the study of animals. i saw a panther in the bushes and i went out there to examine him. i saw that he was a big fellow, but he ran away so fast i could tell no more about him." "you scared him away with the torch instead of shooting," said obed. "it was well done, but it took a stout heart. if he comes again tell him i won't wake up until it's time for my watch." he was asleep again inside of a minute, and the panther followed him quickly. both men trusted ned fully, treating him now as an experienced and skilled frontiersman. he knew it, and he felt proud and encouraged. the panther did not come back, but the wolves did, although ned now paid no attention to them. he was growing used to their company and the uncanny feeling departed. he merely replenished the fires and sat patiently until it was time for obed to succeed him. then he, too, wrapped himself in his blankets and slept a dreamless sleep until day. the remainder of the buffalo meat was taken away the next day, but anticipating a long stay at the cabin they continued to hunt, both on horseback and on foot. two more buffalo cows fell to their rifles. they also secured a deer, three antelope and a dozen wild turkeys. their hunting spread over two days, but when they were all assembled on the third night at the cabin general satisfaction prevailed. they had ranged over considerable country, and as game was plentiful and not afraid the panther drew the logical conclusion that man had been scarce in that region. "i take it," he said, "that the mexicans are a good distance east, and that the lipans and comanches are another good distance west. just the same, boys, we've got to keep a close watch, an' i think we've got more to fear from raidin' parties of the indians than from the mexicans. all the mexicans are likely to be ridin' to some point on the rio grande to meet the forces of santa anna." "i wish we had more horses," said obed. "we'd go that way ourselves and see what's up." "well, maybe we'll get 'em," said the panther. "thar's a lot of horses on these plains, some of which ought to belong to us an' we may find a way of claimin' our rights." they passed a number of pleasant days at the cabin and in hunting and foraging in the vicinity. they killed more big game and the dressed skins of buffalo, bear and deer were spread on the floor or were hung on the walls. wild turkeys were numerous, and they had them for food every day. but they discovered no signs of man, white or red, and they would have been content to wait there had they not been so anxious to investigate the reported advance of santa anna on the rio grande. roylston was the most patient of them all, or at least he said the least. "i think," he said about the fourth or fifth day, "that it does not hurt to linger here. the mexican power has not yet gathered in full. as for me, personally, it suits me admirably. i can walk a full two hundred yards now, and next week i shall be able to walk a mile." "when we are all ready to depart, which way do you intend to go mr. roylston?" asked ned. "i wish to go around the settlements and then to new orleans," replied roylston. "that city is my headquarters, but i also have establishments elsewhere, even as far north as new york. are you sure, ned, that you cannot go with me and bring your friend allen, too? i could make men of you both in a vast commercial world. there have been great opportunities, and greater are coming. the development of this mighty southwest will call for large and bold schemes of organization. it is not money alone that i offer, but the risk, the hopes and rewards of a great game, in fact, the opening of a new world to civilization, for such this southwest is. it appeals to some deeper feeling than that which can be aroused by the mere making of money." ned, deeply interested, watched him intently as he spoke. he saw roylston show emotion for the first time, and the mind of the boy responded to that of the man. he could understand this dream. the image of a great texan republic was already in the minds of men. it possessed that of ned. he did not believe that the texans and mexicans could ever get along together, and he was quite sure that texas could never return to its original position as part of a mexican state. "you can do much for texas there with me in new orleans," said roylston, as if he were making a final appeal to one whom he looked upon almost as a son. "perhaps you could do more than you can here in texas." ned shook his head a little sadly. he did not like to disappoint this man, but he could not leave the field. young allen also said that he would remain. "be it so," said roylston. "it is young blood. never was there a truer saying than 'young men for war, old men for counsel.' but the time may come when you will need me. when it does come send the word." ned judged from roylston's manner that dark days were ahead, but the merchant did not mention the subject again. at the end of a week, when they were amply supplied with everything except horses, the panther decided to take ned and obed and go on a scout toward the rio grande. they started early in the morning and the horses, which had obtained plenty of grass, were full of life and vigor. they soon left the narrow belt of forest far behind them, maintaining an almost direct course toward the southeast. the point on the river that they intended to reach was seventy or eighty miles away, and they did not expect to cover the distance in less than two days. they rode all that day and did not see a trace of a human being, but they did see both buffalo and antelope in the distance. "it shows what the war has done," said the panther. "i rode over these same prairies about a year ago an' game was scarce, but there were some men. now the men are all gone an' the game has come back. cur'us how quick buffalo an' deer an' antelope learn about these things." they slept the night through on the open prairie, keeping watch by turns. the weather was cold, but they had their good blankets with them and they took no discomfort. they rode forward again early in the morning, and about noon struck an old but broad trail. it was evident that many men and many wagons had passed here. there were deep ruts in the earth, cut by wheels, and the traces of footsteps showed over a belt a quarter of a mile wide. "well, ned, i s'pose you can make a purty good guess what this means?" said the panther. "this was made weeks and weeks ago," replied ned confidently, "and the men who made it were mexicans. they were soldiers, the army of cos, that we took at san antonio, and which we allowed to retire on parole into mexico." "there's no doubt you're right," said the panther. "there's no other force in this part of the world big enough to make such a wide an' lastin' trail. an' i think it's our business to follow these tracks. what do you say, obed?" "it's just the one thing in the world that we're here to do," said the maine man. "broad is the path and straight is the way that leads before us, and we follow on." "do we follow them down into mexico?" said ned. "i don't think it likely that we'll have to do it," replied the panther, glancing at obed. ned caught the look and he understood. "do you mean," he asked, "that cos, after taking his parole and pledging his word that he and his troops would not fight against us, would stop at the rio grande?" "i mean that an' nothin' else," replied the panther. "i ain't talkin' ag'in mexicans in general. i've knowed some good men among them, but i wouldn't take the word of any of that crowd of generals, santa anna, cos, sesma, urrea, gaona, castrillon, the italian filisola, or any of them." "there's one i'd trust," said ned, with grateful memory, "and that's almonte." "i've heard that he's of different stuff," said the panther, "but it's best to keep out of their hands." they were now riding swiftly almost due southward, having changed their course to follow the trail, and they kept a sharp watch ahead for mexican scouts or skirmishers. but the bare country in its winter brown was lone and desolate. the trail led straight ahead, and it would have been obvious now to the most inexperienced eye that an army had passed that way. they saw remains of camp fires, now and then the skeleton of a horse or mule picked clean by buzzards, fragments of worn-out clothing that had been thrown aside, and once a broken-down wagon. two or three times they saw little mounds of earth with rude wooden crosses stuck upon them, to mark where some of the wounded had died and had been buried. they came at last to a bit of woodland growing about a spring that seemed to gush straight up from the earth. it was really an open grove with no underbrush, a splendid place for a camp. it was evident that cos's force had put it to full use, as the earth nearly everywhere had been trodden by hundreds of feet, and the charred pieces of wood were innumerable. the panther made a long and critical examination of everything. "i'm thinkin'," he said, "that cos stayed here three or four days. all the signs p'int that way. he was bound by the terms we gave him at san antonio to go an' not fight ag'in, but he's shorely takin' his time about it. look at these bones, will you? now, ned, you promisin' scout an' skirmisher, tell me what they are." "buffalo bones," replied ned promptly. "right you are," replied the panther, "an' when cos left san antonio he wasn't taking any buffaloes along with him to kill fur meat. they staid here so long that the hunters had time to go out an' shoot game." "a long lane's the thief of time," said obed, "and having a big march before him, cos has concluded to walk instead of run." "'cause he was expectin' somethin' that would stop him," said the panther angrily. "i hate liars an' traitors. well, we'll soon see." their curiosity became so great that they rode at a swift trot on the great south trail, and not ten miles further they came upon the unmistakable evidences of another big camp that had lasted long. "slower an' slower," muttered the panther. "they must have met a messenger. wa'al, it's fur us to go slow now, too." but he said aloud: "boys, it ain't more'n twenty miles now to the rio grande, an' we can hit it by dark. but i'm thinkin' that we'd better be mighty keerful now as we go on." "i suppose it's because mexican scouts and skirmishers may be watching," said ned. "yes, an' 'specially that fellow urrea. his uncle bein' one of santa anna's leadin' gen'rals, he's likely to have freer rein, an', as we know, he's clever an' active. i'd hate to fall into his hands again." they rode more slowly, and three pairs of eyes continually searched the plain for an enemy. ned's sight was uncommonly acute, and obed and the panther frequently appealed to him as a last resort. it flattered his pride and he strove to justify it. their pace became slower and slower, and presently the early twilight of winter was coming. a cold wind moaned, but the desolate plain was broken here and there by clumps of trees. at the suggestion of the panther they rode to one of these and halted under cover of the timber. "the river can't be much more than a mile ahead," said the panther, "an' we might run into the mexicans any minute. we're sheltered here, an' we'd better wait a while. then i think we can do more stalkin'." obed and ned were not at all averse, and dismounting they stretched themselves, easing their muscles. old jack hunted grass and, finding none, rubbed ned's elbow with his nose suggestively. "never mind, old boy," said ned, patting the glossy muzzle of his faithful comrade. "this is no time for feasting and banqueting. we are hunting mexicans, you and i, and after that business is over we may consider our pleasures." they remained several hours among the trees. they saw the last red glow that the sun leaves in the west die away. they saw the full darkness descend over the earth, and then the stars come trooping out. after that they saw a scarlet flush under the horizon which was not a part of the night and its progress. the panther noted it, and his great face darkened. he turned to ned. "you see it, don't you? now tell me what it is." "that light, i should say, comes from the fires of an army. and it can be no other army than that of cos." "right again, ain't he, obed?" "he surely is. cos and his men are there. he who breaks his faith when he steals away will have to fight another day. how far off would you say that light is, panther?" "'bout two miles, an' in an hour or so we'll ride fur it. the night will darken up more then, an' it will give us a better chance for lookin' an listenin'. i'll be mightily fooled if we don't find out a lot that's worth knowin'." true to obed's prediction, the night deepened somewhat within the hour. many of the stars were hidden by floating wisps of cloud, and objects could not be seen far on the dusky surface of the plain. but the increased darkness only made the scarlet glow in the south deepen. it seemed, too, to spread far to right and left. "that's a big force," said the panther. "it'll take a lot of fires to make a blaze like that." "i'm agreeing with you," said obed. "i'm thinking that those are the camp fires of more men than cos took from san antonio with him." "which would mean," said ned, "that another mexican army had come north to join him." "anyhow, we'll soon see," said the panther. they mounted their horses and rode cautiously toward the light. chapter v santa anna's advance the three rode abreast, ned in the center. the boy was on terms of perfect equality with obed and the panther. they treated him as a man among men, and respected his character, rather grave for one so young, and always keen to learn. the land rolled away in swells as usual throughout a great part of texas, but they were not of much elevation and the red glow in the south was always in sight, deepening fast as they advanced. they stopped at last on a little elevation within the shadow of some myrtle oaks, and saw the fires spread before them only four or five hundred yards away, and along a line of at least two miles. they heard the confused murmur of many men. the dark outlines of cannon were seen against the firelight, and now and then the musical note of a mandolin or guitar came to them. "we was right in our guess," said the panther. "it's a lot bigger force than the one that cos led away from san antonio, an' it will take a heap of rippin' an' t'arin' an' roarin' to turn it back. our people don't know how much is comin' ag'in 'em." the panther spoke in a solemn tone. ned saw that he was deeply impressed and that he feared for the future. good cause had he. squabbles among the texan leaders had reduced their army to five or six hundred men. "don't you think," said ned, "that we ought to find out just exactly what is here, and what this army intends?" "not a doubt of it," said obed. "those who have eyes to see should not go away without seeing." the panther nodded violently in assent. "we must scout about the camp," he said. "mebbe we'd better divide an' then we can all gather before day-break at the clump of trees back there." he pointed to a little cluster of trees several hundred yards back of them, and ned and obed agreed. the panther turned away to the right, obed to the left and ned took the center. their plan of dividing their force had a great advantage. one man was much less likely than three to attract undue attention. ned went straight ahead a hundred yards or more, when he was stopped by an arroyo five or six feet wide and with very deep banks. he looked about, uncertain at first what to do. obed and the panther had already disappeared in the dusk. before him glowed the red light, and he heard the distant sound of many voices. ned quickly decided. he remembered how they had escaped up the bed of the creek when they were besieged by urrea, and if one could leave by an arroyo, one could also approach by it. he rode to the group of trees that had been designated as the place of meeting, and left his horse there. he noticed considerable grass within the ring of trunks, and he was quite confident that old jack would remain there until his return. but he addressed to him words of admonition: "be sure that you stay among these trees, old friend," he said, "because it's likely that when i want you i'll want you bad. remain and attend to this grass." old jack whinnied softly and, after his fashion, rubbed his nose gently against his master's arm. it was sufficient for ned. he was sure that the horse understood, and leaving him he went back to the arroyo, which he entered without hesitation. ned was well armed, as every one then had full need to be. he wore a sombrero in the mexican fashion, and flung over his shoulders was a great serape which he had found most useful in the winter. with his perfect knowledge of spanish and its mexican variants he believed that if surprised he could pass as a mexican, particularly in the night and among so many. the arroyo led straight down toward the plain upon which the mexicans were encamped, and when he emerged from it he saw that the fires which at a distance looked like one continuous blaze were scores in number. many of them were built of buffalo chips and others of light wood that burned fast. sentinels were posted here and there, but they kept little watch. why should they? here was a great mexican army, and there was certainly no foe amounting to more than a few men within a hundred miles. ned's heart sank as he beheld the evident extent of the mexican array. the little texan force left in the field could be no match for such an army as this. nevertheless, his resolution to go through the mexican camp hardened. if he came back with a true and detailed tale of their numbers the texans must believe and prepare. he drew the brim of his sombrero down a little further, and pulled his serape up to meet it. the habit the mexicans had of wrapping their serapes so high that they were covered to the nose was fortunate at this time. he was now completely disguised, without the appearance of having taken any unusual precaution. he walked forward boldly and sat down with a group beside a fire. he judged by the fact that they were awake so late that they had but little to do, and he saw at once also that they were mexicans from the far south. they were small, dark men, rather amiable in appearance. two began to play guitars and they sang a plaintive song to the music. the others, smoking cigarritos, listened attentively and luxuriously. ned imitated them perfectly. he, too, lying upon his elbow before the pleasant fire, felt the influence of the music, so sweet, so murmurous, speaking so little of war. one of the men handed him a cigarrito, and, lighting it, he made pretense of smoking--he would not have seemed a mexican had he not smoked the cigarrito. lying there, ned saw many tents, evidence of a camp that was not for the day only, and he beheld officers in bright uniforms passing among them. his heart gave a great jump when he noticed among them a heavy-set, dark man. it was cos, cos the breaker of oaths. with him was another officer whose uniform indicated the general. ned learned later that this was sesma, who had been dispatched with a brigade by santa anna to meet cos on the rio grande, where they were to remain until the dictator himself came with more troops. the music ceased presently and one of the men said to ned: "what company?" ned had prepared himself for such questions, and he moved his hand vaguely toward the left. "over there," he said. they were fully satisfied, and continued to puff their cigarritos, resting their heads with great content upon pillows made of their saddles and blankets. for a while they said nothing more, happily watching the rings of smoke from their cigarritos rise and melt into the air. although small and short, they looked hardy and strong. ned noticed the signs of bustle and expectancy about the camp. usually mexicans were asleep at this hour, and he wondered why they lingered. but he did not approach the subject directly. "a hard march," he said, knowing that these men about him had come a vast distance. "aye, it was," said the man next on his right. "santiago, but was it not, josé?" josé, the second man on the right, replied in the affirmative and with emphasis: "you speak the great truth, carlos. such another march i never wish to make. think of the hundreds and hundreds of miles we have tramped from our warm lands far in the south across mountains, across bare and windy deserts, with the ice and the snow beating in our faces. how i shivered, carlos, and how long i shivered! i thought i should continue shivering all my life even if i lived to be a hundred, no matter how warmly the sun might shine." the others laughed, and seemed to ned to snuggle a little closer to the fire, driven by the memory of the icy plains. "but it was the will of the great santa anna, surely the mightiest man of our age," said carlos. "they say that his wrath was terrible when he heard how the texan bandits had taken san antonio de bexar. truly, i am glad that i was not one of his officers, and that i was not in his presence at the time. after all, it is sometimes better to be a common soldier than to have command." "aye, truly," said ned, and the others nodded in affirmation. "but the great santa anna will finish it," continued carlos, who seemed to have the sin of garrulity. "he has defeated all his enemies in mexico, he has consolidated his power and now he advances with a mighty force to crush these insolent and miserable texans. as i have said, he will finish it. the rope and the bullet will be busy. in six months there will be no texans." ned shivered, and when he looked at the camp fires of the great army he saw that this peon was not talking foolishness. nevertheless his mind returned to its original point of interest. why did the mexican army remain awake so late? "have you seen the president?" he asked of carlos. "often," replied carlos, with pride. "i fought under him in the great battle on the plain of guadalupe less than two years ago, when we defeated don francisco garcia, the governor of zacatecas. ah, it was a terrible battle, my friends! thousands and thousands were killed and all mexicans. mexicans killing mexicans. but who can prevail against the great santa anna? he routed the forces of garcia, and the city of zacatecas was given up to us to pillage. many fine things i took that day from the houses of those who presumed to help the enemy of our leader. but now we care not to kill mexicans, our own people. it is only the miserable texans who are really gringos." carlos, who had been the most amiable of men, basking in the firelight, now rose up a little and his eyes flashed. he had excited himself by his own tale of the battle and loot of zacatecas and the coming slaughter of the texans. that strain of cruelty, which in ned's opinion always lay embedded in the spanish character, was coming to the surface. ned made no comment. his serape, drawn up to his nose, almost met the brim of his sombrero and nobody suspected that the comrade who sat and chatted with them was a gringo, but he shivered again, nevertheless. "we shall have a great force when it is all gathered," he said at length. "seven thousand men or more," said josé proudly, "and nearly all of them are veterans of the wars. we shall have ten times the numbers of the texans, who are only hunters and rancheros." "have you heard when we march?" asked ned, in a careless tone. "as soon as the great santa anna arrives it will be decided, i doubt not," said josé. "the general and his escort should be here by midnight." ned's heart gave a leap. so it was that for which they were waiting. santa anna himself would come in an hour or two. he was very glad that he had entered the mexican camp. bidding a courteous good night to the men about the fire, he rose and sauntered on. it was easy enough for him to do so without attracting attention, as many others were doing the same thing. discipline seldom amounted to much in a mexican army, and so confident were both officers and soldiers of an overwhelming victory that they preserved scarcely any at all. yet the expectant feeling pervaded the whole camp, and now that he knew that santa anna was coming he understood. santa anna was the greatest man in the world to these soldiers. he had triumphed over everything in their own country. he had exhibited qualities of daring and energy that seemed to them supreme, and his impression upon them was overwhelming. ned felt once more that little shiver. they might be right in their view of the texan war. he strolled on from fire to fire, until his attention was arrested suddenly by one at which only officers sat. it was not so much the group as it was one among them who drew his notice so strongly. urrea was sitting on the far side of the fire, every feature thrown into clear relief by the bright flames. the other officers were young men of about his own age and they were playing dice. they were evidently in high good humor, as they laughed frequently. ned lay down just within the shadow of a tent wall, drew his serape higher about his face, and rested his head upon his arm. he would have seemed sound asleep to an ordinary observer, but he was never more wide awake in his life. he was near enough to hear what urrea and his friends were saying, and he intended to hear it. it was for such that he had come. "you lose, francisco," said one of the men as he made a throw of the dice and looked eagerly at the result. "what was it that you were saying about the general?" "that i expect an early advance, ramon," replied urrea, "a brief campaign, and a complete victory. i hate these texans. i shall be glad to see them annihilated." the young officer whom he called ramon laughed. "if what i hear be true, francisco," he said, "you have cause to hate them. there was a boy, fulton, that wild buffalo of a man, whom they call the panther, and another who defeated some of your finest plans." urrea flushed, but controlled his temper. "it is true, ramon," he replied. "the third man i can tell you is called obed white, and they are a clever three. i hate them, but it hurts my pride less to be defeated by them than by any others whom i know." "well spoken, urrea," said a third man, "but since these three are fighters and will stay to meet us, it is a certainty that our general will scoop them into his net. then you can have all the revenge you wish." "i count upon it, ambrosio," said urrea, smiling. "i also hope that we shall recapture the man roylston. he has great sums of money in the foreign banks in our country, and we need them, but our illustrious president cannot get them without an order from roylston. the general would rather have roylston than a thousand texan prisoners." all of them laughed, and the laugh made ned, lying in the shadow, shiver once more. urrea glanced his way presently, but the recumbent figure did not claim his notice. the attention of his comrades and himself became absorbed in the dice again. they were throwing the little ivory cubes upon a blanket, and ned could hear them click as they struck together. the sharp little sound began to flick his nerves. not one to cherish resentment, he nevertheless began to hate urrea, and he included in that hatred the young men with him. the texans were so few and poor. the mexicans were so many, and they had the resources of a nation more than two centuries old. ned rose by and by and walked on. he could imitate the mexican gait perfectly, and no one paid any attention to him. they were absorbed, moreover, in something else, because now the light of torches could be seen dimly in the south. officers threw down cards and dice. men straightened their uniforms and cos and sesma began to form companies in line. more fuel was thrown on the fires, which sprang up, suffusing all the night with color and brightness. ned with his rifle at salute fell into place at the end of one of the companies, and no one knew that he did not belong there. in the excitement of the moment he forgot all about the panther and obed. a thrill seemed to run through the whole mexican force. it was the most impressive scene that ned had ever beheld. a leader, omnipotent in their eyes, was coming to these men, and he came at midnight out of the dark into the light. the torches grew brighter. a trumpet pealed and a trumpet in the camp replied. the mexican lines became silent save for a deep murmur. in the south they heard the rapid beat of hoofs, and then santa anna came, galloping at the head of fifty horsemen. many of the younger officers ran forward, holding up torches, and the dictator rode in a blaze of light. ned looked once more upon that dark and singular face, a face daring and cruel, that might have belonged to one of the old conquistadores. in the saddle his lack of height was concealed, but on the great white horse that he rode ned felt that he was an imposing, even a terrible, figure. his eyes were blazing with triumph as his army united with torches to do him honor. it was like napoleon on the night before austerlitz, and what was he but the napoleon of the new world? his figure swelled and the gold braid on his cocked hat and gorgeous uniform reflected the beams of the firelight. a mighty cheer from thousands of throats ran along the mexican line, and the torches were waved until they looked like vast circles of fire. santa anna lifted his hat and bowed three times in salute. again the mexican cheer rolled to right and to left. santa anna, still sitting on his horse, spread out his hands. there was instant silence save for the deep breathing of the men. "my children," he said, "i have come to sweep away these miserable texans who have dared to raise the rebel flag against us. we will punish them all. houston, austin, bowie and the rest of their leaders shall feel our justice. when we finish our march over their prairies it shall be as if a great fire had passed. i have said it. i am santa anna." the thunderous cheer broke forth again. ned had never before heard words so full of conceit and vainglory, yet the strength and menace were there. he felt it instinctively. santa anna believed himself to be the greatest man in the world, and he was certainly the greatest in mexico. his belief in himself was based upon a deep well of energy and daring. once more ned felt a great and terrible fear for texas, and the thin line of skin-clad hunters and ranchmen who were its sole defence. but the feeling passed as he watched santa anna. a young officer rushed forward and held his stirrup as the dictator dismounted. then the generals, including those who had come with him, crowded around him. it was a brilliant company, including sesma, cos, duque, castrillon, tolsa, gaona and others, among whom ned noted a man of decidedly italian appearance. this was general vincente filisola, an italian officer who had received a huge grant of land in texas, and who was now second in command to santa anna. ned watched them as they talked together and occasionally the crowd parted enough for him to see santa anna, who spoke and gesticulated with great energy. the soldiers had been drawn away by the minor officers, and were now dispersing to their places by the fires where they would seek sleep. ned noticed a trim, slender figure on the outer edge of the group around santa anna. it seemed familiar, and when the man turned he recognized the face of almonte, the gallant young mexican colonel who had been kind to him. he was sorry to see him there. he was sorry that he should have to fight against him. santa anna went presently to a great marquée that had been prepared for him, and the other generals retired also to the tents that had been set about it. the dictator was tired from his long ride and must not be disturbed. strict orders were given that there should be no noise in the camp, and it quickly sank into silence. ned lay down before one of the fires at the western end of the camp wrapped as before in his serape. he counterfeited sleep, but nothing was further from his mind. it seemed to him that he had done all he could do in the mexican camp. he had seen the arrival of santa anna, but there was no way to learn when the general would order an advance. but he could infer from santa anna's well-known energy and ability that it would come quickly. between the slit left by the brim of his sombrero and his serape he watched the great fires die slowly. most of the mexicans were asleep now, and their figures were growing indistinct in the shadows. but ned, rising, slouched forward, imitating the gait of the laziest of the mexicans. yet his eyes were always watching shrewdly through the slit. very little escaped his notice. he went along the entire mexican line and then back again. he had a good mathematical mind, and he saw that the estimate of , for the mexican army was not too few. he also saw many cannon and the horses for a great cavalry force. he knew, too, that santa anna had with him the best regiments in the mexican service. on his last trip along the line ned began to look for the panther and obed, but he saw no figures resembling theirs, although he was quite sure that he would know the panther in any disguise owing to his great size. this circumstance would make it more dangerous for the panther than for either obed or himself, as urrea, if he should see so large a man, would suspect that it was none other than the redoubtable frontiersman. ned was thinking of this danger to the panther when he came face to face with urrea himself. the young mexican captain was not lacking in vigilance and energy, and even at that late hour he was seeing that all was well in the camp of santa anna. ned was truly thankful now that mexican custom and the coldness of the night permitted him to cover his face with his serape and the brim of his sombrero. "why are you walking here?" demanded urrea. "i've just taken a message to general castrillon," replied ned. he had learned already that castrillon commanded the artillery, and as he was at least a mile away he thought this the safest reply. "from whom?" asked urrea shortly. "pardon, sir," replied ned, in his best spanish, disguising his voice as much as possible, "but i am not allowed to tell." ned's tone was courteous and apologetic, and in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred urrea would have contented himself with an impatient word or two. but he was in a most vicious temper. perhaps he had been rebuked by santa anna for allowing the rescue of roylston. "why don't you speak up?" he exclaimed. "why do you mumble your words, and why do you stand in such a slouching manner. remember that a soldier should stand up straight." "yes, my captain," said ned, but he did not change his attitude. the tone and manner of urrea angered him. he forgot where he was and his danger. urrea's swarthy face flushed. he carried in his hand a small riding whip, which he switched occasionally across the tops of his tall, military boots. "lout!" he cried. "you hear me! why do you not obey!" ned stood impassive. certainly urrea had had a bad half hour somewhere. his temper leaped beyond control. "idiot!" he exclaimed. then he suddenly lashed ned across the face with the little riding whip. the blow fell on serape and sombrero and the flesh was not touched, but for a few moments ned went mad. he dropped his rifle, leaped upon the astonished officer, wrenched the whip from his hands, slashed him across the cheeks with it until the blood ran in streams, then broke it in two and threw the pieces in his face. ned's serape fell away. urrea had clasped his hands to his cheeks that stung like fire, but now he recognized the boy. "fulton!" he cried. the sharp exclamation brought ned to a realization of his danger. he seized his rifle, pulled up the serape and sprang back. already mexican soldiers were gathering. it was truly fortunate for ned that he was quick of thought, and that his thoughts came quickest when the danger was greatest. he knew that the cry of "fulton!" was unintelligible to them, and he exclaimed: "save me, comrades! he tried to beat me without cause, and now he would kill me, as you see!" urrea had drawn a pistol and was shouting fiery mexican oaths. the soldiers, some of them just awakened from sleep, and all of them dazed, had gathered in a huddle, but they opened to let ned pass. excessive and cruel punishment was common among them. a man might be flogged half to death at the whim of an officer, and instinctively they protected their comrade. as the mexican group closed up behind him, and between him and urrea, ned ran at top speed toward the west where the arroyo cut across the plain. more mexicans were gathering, and there was great confusion. everybody was asking what was the matter. the boy's quick wit did not desert him. there was safety in ignorance and the multitude. he quickly dropped to a walk and he, too, began to ask of others what had caused the trouble. all the while he worked steadily toward the arroyo, and soon he left behind him the lights and the shouting. he now came into the dark, passed beyond the mexican lines, and entered the cut in the earth down which he had come. he was compelled to sit down on the sand and relax. he was exhausted by the great effort of both mind and body which had carried him through so much danger. his heart was beating heavily and he felt dizzy. but his eyes cleared presently and his strength came back. he considered himself safe. in the darkness it was not likely that any of the mexicans would stumble upon him. he thought of the panther and obed, but he could do nothing for them. he must trust to meeting them again at the place appointed. he looked at the mexican camp. the fires had burned up again there for a minute or two, but as he looked they sank once more. the noise also decreased. evidently they were giving up the pursuit. ned rose and walked slowly up the arroyo. he became aware that the night was very cold and it told on his relaxed frame. he pulled up the serape again, and now it was for warmth and not for disguise. he stopped at intervals to search the darkness with his eyes and to listen for noises. he might meet with an enemy or he might meet with one of his friends. he was prepared for either. he had regained control of himself both body and mind, and his ready rifle rested in the hollow of his arm. he met neither. he heard nothing but the usual sighing of the prairie wind that ceased rarely, and he saw nothing but the faint glow on the southern horizon that marked the mexican camp where he had met his enemy. he left the arroyo, and saw a dark shadow on the plain, the figure of a man, rifle in hand, ned instantly sprang back into the arroyo and the stranger did the same. a curve in the line of this cut in the earth now hid them from each other, and ned, his body pressed against the bank, waited with beating heart. he had no doubt that it was a mexican sentinel or scout more vigilant than the others, and he felt his danger. ned in this crisis used the utmost caution. he did not believe that any other would come, and it must be a test of patience between him and his enemy. whoever showed his head first would be likely to lose in the duel for life. he pressed himself closer and closer against the bank, and sought to detect some movement of the stranger. he saw nothing and he did not hear a sound. it seemed that the man had absolutely vanished into space. it occurred to ned that it might have been a mere figment of the dusk and his excited brain, but he quickly dismissed the idea. he had seen the man and he had seen him leap into the arroyo. there could be no doubt of it. there was another long wait, and the suspense became acute. the man was surely on the other side of that curve waiting for him. he was held fast. he was almost as much a prisoner as if he lay bound in the mexican camp. it seemed to him, too, that the darkness was thinning a little. it would soon be day and then he could not escape the notice of horsemen from santa anna's army. he decided that he must risk an advance and he began creeping forward cautiously. he remembered now what he had forgotten in the first moments of the meeting. he might yet, even before this sentinel or scout, pass as a mexican. he stopped suddenly when he heard a low whistle in front of him. while it could be heard but a short distance, it was singularly sweet. it formed the first bars of an old tune, "the world turned upside down," and ned promptly recognized it. the whistle stopped in a moment or two, but ned took up the air and continued it for a few bars more. then, all apprehension gone, he sprang out of the arroyo and stood upon the bank. another figure was projected from the arroyo and stood upon the bank facing him, not more than twenty feet away. simultaneously obed white and edward fulton advanced, shook hands and laughed. "you kept me here waiting in this gully at least half an hour," said obed. "time and i waited long on you." "but no longer than i waited on you," said ned. "why didn't you think of whistling the tune sooner?" "why didn't you?" they laughed and shook hands again. "at any rate, we're here together again, safe and unharmed," said ned. "and now to see what has become of the panther." "you'd better be lookin' out for yourselves instead of the panther," growled a voice, as a gigantic figure upheaved itself from the arroyo eight or ten yards behind them. "i could have picked you both off while you were standin' there shakin' hands, an' neither of you would never have knowed what struck him." "the panther!" they exclaimed joyously, and they shook hands with him also. "an' now," said the panther, "it will soon be day. we'd better make fur our horses an' then clear out. we kin tell 'bout what we've seen an' done when we're two or three miles away." they found the horses safe in the brushwood, old jack welcoming ned with a soft whinny. they were in the saddle at once, rode swiftly northward, and none of them spoke for a half hour. when a faint tinge of gray appeared on the eastern rim of the world the panther said: "my tale's short. i couldn't get into the camp, 'cause i'm too big. the very first fellow i saw looked at me with s'picion painted all over him. so i had to keep back in the darkness. but i saw it was a mighty big army. it can do a lot of rippin', an' t'arin', an' chawin'." "i got into the camp," said obed, after a minute of silence, "but as i'm not built much like a mexican, being eight or ten inches too tall, men were looking at me as if i were a strange specimen. one touch of difference and all the world's staring at you. so i concluded that i'd better stay on the outside of the lines. i hung around, and i saw just what panther saw, no more and no less. then i started back and i struck the arroyo, which seemed to me a good way for leaving. but before i had gone far i concluded i was followed. so i watched the fellow who was following, and the fellow who was following watched me for about a year. the watch was just over when you came up, panther. it was long, but it's a long watch that has no ending." "and i," said ned, after another wait of a minute, "being neither so tall as obed nor so big around as the panther, was able to go about in the mexican camp without any notice being taken of me. i saw santa anna arrive to take the chief command." "santa anna himself?" exclaimed the panther. "yes, santa anna himself. they gave him a great reception. after a while i started to come away. i met urrea. he took me for a peon, gave me an order, and when i didn't obey it tried to strike me across the face with a whip." "and what did you do?" exclaimed the two men together. "i took the whip away from him and lashed his cheeks with it. i was recognized, but in the turmoil and confusion i escaped. then i had the encounter with obed white, of which he has told already." "since santa anna has come," said the panther, "they're likely to move at any moment. we'll ride straight for the cabin an' the boys." chapter vi for freedom's sake evidently the horses had found considerable grass through the night, as they were fresh and strong, and the miles fell fast behind them. at the gait at which they were going they would reach the cabin that night. meanwhile they made plans. the little force would divide and messengers would go to san antonio, harrisburg and other points, with the news that santa anna was advancing with an immense force. and every one of the three knew that the need was great. they knew how divided counsels had scattered the little texan army. at san antonio, the most important point of all, the town that they had triumphantly taken from a much greater force of mexicans, there were practically no men, and that undoubtedly was santa anna's destination. unconsciously they began to urge their horses to great and yet greater speed, until the panther recalled them to prudence. "slower, boys! slower!" he said. "we mustn't run our horses out at the start." "and there's a second reason for pulling down," said ned, "since there's somebody else on the plain." his uncommon eyesight had already detected before the others the strange presence. he pointed toward the east. "do you see that black speck there, where the sky touches the ground?" he said. "if you'll watch it you'll see that it's moving. and look! there's another! and another! and another!" the panther and obed now saw the black specks also. the three stopped on the crest of a swell and watched them attentively. "one! two! three! four! five! six! seven! eight! nine! ten! eleven! twelve! thirteen!" counted the far-sighted boy. "an' them thirteen specks are thirteen men on horseback," continued the panther, "an' now i wonder who in the name of the great horn spoon they are!" "suppose we see," said obed. "all things are revealed to him who looks--at least most of the time. it is true that they are more than four to our one, but our horses are swift, and we can get away." "that's right," said the panther. "still, we oughtn't to take the risk unless everybody is willin'. what do you say, ned?" "i reply 'yes,' of course," said the boy, "especially as i've an idea that those are not mexicans. they look too big and tall, and they sit too straight up in their saddles for mexicans." "them ideas of yours are ketchin'," said the panther. "them fellers may be mexicans, but they don't look like mexicans, they don't act like mexicans, an' they ain't mexicans." "take out what isn't, and you have left what is," said obed. "we'll soon see," said ned. a few minutes more and there could be no further doubt that the thirteen were texans or americans. one rode a little ahead of the others, who came on in an even line. they were mounted on large horses, but the man in front held ned's attention. the leader was tall and thin, but evidently muscular and powerful. his hair was straight and black like an indian's. his features were angular and tanned by the winds of many years. his body was clothed completely in buckskin, and a raccoon skin cap was on his head. across his shoulder lay a rifle with a barrel of unusual length. "never saw any of them before," said the panther. "by the great horn spoon, who can that feller in front be? he looks like somebody." the little band rode closer, and its leader held up his hand as a sign of amity. "good friends," he said, in a deep clear voice, "we don't have very close neighbors out here, and that makes a meeting all the pleasanter. you are texans, i guess." "you guess right," said the panther, in the same friendly tone. "an' are you texans, too?" "that point might be debated," replied the man, in a whimsical tone, "and after a long dispute neither i nor my partners here could say which was right and which was wrong. but while we may not be texans, yet we will be right away." his eyes twinkled as he spoke, and ned suddenly felt a strong liking for him. he was not young and, despite his buckskin dress and careless grammar, there was something of the man of the world about him. but he seemed to have a certain boyishness of spirit that appealed strongly to ned. "i s'pose," he continued, "that a baptism will make us genuine texans, an' it 'pears likely to me that we'll get that most lastin' of all baptisms, a baptism of fire. but me an' betsy here stand ready for it." he patted lovingly the stock of his long rifle as he spoke the word "betsy." it was the same word "betsy" that gave ned his sudden knowledge. "i'm thinking that you are davy crockett," he said. the man's face was illumined with an inimitable smile. "correct," he said. "no more and no less. andy jackson kept me from going back to washington, an' so me an' these twelve good friends of mine, tennesseans like myself, have come here to help free texas." he reached out his hand and ned grasped it. the boy felt a thrill. the name of davy crockett was a great one in the southwest, and here he was, face to face, hands gripped with the great borderer. "this is mr. palmer, known all over texas as the panther, and mr. obed white, once of maine, but now a texan," said ned, introducing his friends. crockett and the panther shook hands, and looked each other squarely in the eye. "seems to me," said crockett, "that you're a man." "i was jest thinkin' the same of you," said the panther. "an' you," said crockett to obed white, "are a man, too. but they certainly do grow tall where you come from." "i'm not as wide as a barn door, but i may be long enough to reach the bottom of a well," said obed modestly. "anyway, i thank you for the compliment. praise from sir davy is sweet music in my ear, indeed. and since we texans have to stand together, and since to stand together we must know about one another, may i ask you, mr. crockett, which way you are going?" "we had an idea that we would go to san antonio," said crockett, "but i'm never above changin' my opinion. if you think it better to go somewhere else, an' can prove it, why me an' betsy an' the whole crowd are ready to go there instead." "what would you say?" asked the panther, "if we told you that santa anna an' , men were on the rio grande ready to march on san antonio?" "if you said it, i'd say it was true. i'd also say that it was a thing the texans had better consider. if i was usin' adjectives i'd call it alarmin'." "an' what would you say if i told you there wasn't a hundred texan soldiers in san antonio to meet them seven thousand mexicans comin' under santa anna?" "if you told me that i'd say it was true. i'd say also, if i was usin' adjectives, that it was powerful alarmin'. for heaven's sake, mr. panther, the state of affairs ain't so bad as that, is it?" "it certainly is," replied the panther. "ned fulton here was all through their camp last night. he can talk mexican an' spanish like lightnin' an' he makes up wonderful--an' he saw their whole army. he saw old santa anna, too, an' fifty or a hundred generals, all covered with gold lace. if we don't get a lot of fightin' men together an' get 'em quick, texas will be swept clean by that mexican army same as if a field had been crossed by millions of locusts." it was obvious that crockett was impressed deeply by these blunt statements. "what do you wish us to do?" he asked the panther. "you an' your friends come with us. we've got some good men at a cabin in the woods that we can reach to-night. we'll join with them, raise as many more as we can, spread the alarm everywhere, an' do everything possible for the defence of san antonio." "a good plan, mr. panther," said crocket. "you lead the way to this cabin of yours, an' remember that we're servin' under you for the time bein'." the panther rode on without another word and the party, now raised from three to sixteen, followed. crockett fell in by the side of ned, and soon showed that he was not averse to talking. "a good country," he said, nodding at the landscape, "but it ain't like tennessee. it would take me a long time to git used to the lack of hills an' runnin' water an' trees which just cover the state of tennessee." "we have them here, too," replied ned, "though i'll admit they're scattered. but it's a grand country to fight for." "an' as i see it we'll have a grand lot of fightin' to do," said davy crockett. they continued at good speed until twilight, when they rested their horses and ate of the food that they carried. the night promised to be cold but clear, and the crisp air quickened their blood. "how much further is it?" asked crockett of ned. "fifteen or eighteen miles, but at the rate we're going we should be there in three hours. we've got a roof. it isn't a big one, and we don't know who built it, but it will shelter us all." "i ain't complainin' of that," rejoined davy crockett. "i'm a lover of fresh air an' outdoors, but i don't object to a roof in cold weather. always take your comfort, boy, when it's offered to you. it saves wear an' tear." a friendship like that between him and bowie was established already between ned and crockett. ned's grave and serious manner, the result of the sufferings through which he had gone, invariably attracted the attention and liking of those far older than himself. "i'll remember your advice, mr. crockett," he said. a rest of a half hour for the horses and they started riding rapidly. after a while they struck the belt of forest and soon the cabin was not more than a mile away. but the panther, who was still in the lead, pulled up his horse suddenly. "boys," he exclaimed, "did you hear that?" every man stopped his horse also and with involuntary motion bent forward a little to listen. then the sound that the panther had heard came again. it was the faint ping of a rifle shot, muffled by the distance. in a moment they heard another and then two more. the sounds came from the direction of their cabin. "the boys are attacked," said the panther calmly, "an' it's just as well that we've come fast. but i can't think who is after 'em. there was certainly no mexicans in these parts yesterday, an' urrea could not possibly have got ahead of us with a raidin' band. but at any rate we'll ride on an' soon see." they proceeded with the utmost caution, and they heard the faint ping of the rifles a half dozen times as they advanced. the nostrils of the panther began to distend, and streaks of red appeared on his eyeballs. he was smelling the battle afar, and his soul rejoiced. he had spent his whole life amid scenes of danger, and this was nature to him. crockett rode up by his side, and he, too, listened eagerly. he no longer carried betsy over his shoulder but held the long rifle across the pommel of his saddle, his hand upon hammer and trigger. "what do you think it is, panther?" he asked. already he had fallen into the easy familiarity of the frontier. "i can't make it out yet," replied the panther, "but them shots shorely came from the cabin an' places about it. our fellows are besieged, but i've got to guess at the besiegers, an' then i'm likely to guess wrong." they were riding very slowly, and presently they heard a dozen shots, coming very clearly now. "i think we'd better stop here," said the panther, "an' do a little scoutin'. if you like it, mr. crockett, you an' me an' ned, here, will dismount, slip forward an' see what's the trouble. obed will take command of the others, an' wait in the bushes till we come back with the news, whatever it is." "i'll go with you gladly," said davy crockett. "i'm not lookin' for trouble with a microscope, but if trouble gets right in my path i'm not dodgin' it. so i say once more, lead on, noble mr. panther, an' if betsy here must talk she'll talk." the panther grinned in the dusk. he and davy crockett had instantly recognized congenial souls, each in the other. "i can't promise you that thar'll be rippin' an' t'arin' an' roarin' an' chawin' all the time," he said, "but between you an' me, davy crockett, i've an' idee that we're not goin' to any sort of prayer meetin' this time of night." "no, i'm thinkin' not," said crockett, "but if there is a scene of turbulence before us lead on. i'm prepared for my share in it. the debate may be lively, but i've no doubt that i'll get my chance to speak. there are many ways to attract the attention of the speaker. pardon me, mr. panther, but i fall naturally into the phrases of legislative halls." "i remember that you served two terms in congress at washington," said the panther. "an' i'd be there yet if it wasn't for andy jackson. i wanted my way in tennessee politics an' he wanted his. he was so stubborn an' headstrong that here i am ready to become a statesman in this new texas which is fightin' for its independence. an' what a change! from marble halls in washington to a night in the brush on the frontier, an' with an unknown enemy before you." they stopped talking now and, kneeling down in a thicket, began to creep forward. the cabin was not more than four or five hundred yards away, but a long silence had succeeded the latest shots, and after an advance of thirty or forty yards they lay still for a while. then they heard two shots ahead of them, and saw little pink dots of flame from the exploding gunpowder. "it cannot be mexicans who are besieging the cabin," said ned. "they would shout or make some kind of a noise. we have not heard a thing but the rifle shots." "your argyment is good," whispered the panther. "look! did you see that figure passin' between us an' the cabin?" "i saw it," said davy crockett, "an' although it was but a glimpse an' this is night it did not seem to me to be clad in full christian raiment. i am quite sure it is not the kind of costume that would be admitted to the galleries of congress." "you're right, doubly right," said the panther. "that was an injun you saw, but whether a comanche or a lipan i couldn't tell. the boys are besieged not by mexicans, but by injuns. hark to that!" there was a flash from the cabin, a dusky figure in the woods leaped into the air, uttered a death cry, fell and lay still. "an', as you see," continued the panther, in his whisper, "the boys in the house are not asleep, dreamin' beautiful dreams. looks to me as if they was watchin' mighty sharp for them fellers who have broke up their rest." crack! went a second shot from the house, but there was no answering cry, and they could not tell whether it hit anything. but they soon saw more dark figures flitting through the bushes, and their own position grew very precarious. if a band of the indians stumbled upon them they might be annihilated before they gave their besieged comrades any help. "i make the motion, mr. panther," said crockett, "that you form a speedy plan of action for us, an' i trust that our young friend ned here will second it." "i second the motion," said ned. "it is carried unanimously. now, mr. panther, we await your will." "it's my will that we git back to the rest of the men as soon as we can. i reckon, mr. crockett, that them tennesseans of yours wouldn't head in the other direction if a fight grew hot." "i reckon that wild horses couldn't drag 'em away," said crockett dryly. "then we'll go back an' j'in 'em." "to hold a caucus, so to speak." "i don't know what a cow-cuss is." "it's congressional for a conference. don't mind these parliamentary expressions of mine, mr. panther. they give me pleasure an' they hurt nobody." they reached the tennesseans without interruption, and the panther quickly laid his plan before them. they would advance within a quarter of a mile of the cabin, tie their horses in the thickest of the brush, leave four men to guard them, then the rest would go forward to help the besieged. crockett's eyes twinkled when the panther announced the campaign in a few words. "very good; very good," he said. "a steering committee could not have done better. that also is parliamentary, but i think you understand it." they heard detached shots again and then a long yell. "they're comanches," said the panther. "i know their cry, an' i guess there's a lot of them." ned hoped that the shout did not mean the achieving of some triumph. they reached presently a dense growth of brush, and there the horses were tied. four reluctant tennesseans remained with them and the rest crept forward. they did not hear any shot after they left the horses until they were within three hundred yards of the house. then an apparition caused all to stop simultaneously. a streak of flame shot above the trees, curved and fell. it was followed by another and another. ned was puzzled, but the panther laughed low. "this can't be fireworks on election night," said davy crockett. "it seems hardly the place for such a display." "they're fireworks, all right," said the panther, "but it's not election night. you're correct about that part of it. look, there goes the fourth an' the fifth." two more streaks of flame curved and fell, and ned and crockett were still puzzled. "them's burnin' arrers," said the panther. "it's an old trick of the injuns. if they had time enough they'd be sure to set the cabin on fire, and then from ambush they'd shoot the people as they ran out. but what we're here for is to stop that little game of theirs. the flight of the arrers enables us to locate the spot from which they come an' there we'll find the comanches." they crept toward the point from which the lighted arrows were flying, and peering; from the thicket saw a score or more of comanches gathered in the bushes and under the trees. one of the tennesseans, seeking a better position, caused a loud rustling, and the alert comanches, instantly taking alarm, turned their attention to the point from which the sound had come. "fire, boys! fire at once!" cried the panther. a deadly volley was poured into the comanche band. the indians replied, but were soon compelled to give way. the panther, raising his voice, shouted in tremendous tones: "rescue! rescue! we're here, boys!" the defenders of the cabin, hearing the volleys and the shouts of their friends, opened the door and rushed out of the cabin, rifle in hand. caught between two forces, the comanches gave up and rushed to the plain, where they had left their ponies. jumping upon the backs of these, they fled like the wind. the two victorious parties met and shook hands. "we're mighty glad to see you, panther," said fields, grinning. "you don't look like an angel, but you act like one, an' i see you've brought a lot of new angels with you." "yes," replied the panther, with some pride in his voice, "an' the first of the angels is davy crockett. mr. crockett, mr. fields." the men crowded around to shake hands with the renowned davy. meanwhile a small party brought the four tennesseans and the horses. fortunately the comanches had fled in the other direction. but it was not all joy in the texan camp. two silent figures covered with serapes were stretched on the floor in the cabin, and several others had wounds, although they had borne their part in the fighting. "tell us how it happened," said the panther, after they had set sentinels in the forest. "they attacked us about an hour after dark," replied fields. "we knew that no mexicans were near, but we never thought of indians raiding this far to the eastward. some of the men were outside looking after jerked meat when they suddenly opened fire from the brush. two of the boys, campbell and hudson, were hurt so badly that they died after they were helped into the house by the others. the comanches tried to rush in with our own men, but we drove them off and we could have held the cabin against 'em forever, if they hadn't begun to shoot the burning arrows. then you came." campbell and hudson were buried. ned had been welcomed warmly by allen, and the two boys compared notes. will's face glowed when he heard of ned's adventures within the mexican lines. "i could never have done it," he said. "i couldn't have kept steady enough when one crisis after another came along. i suppose this means, of course, that we must try to meet santa anna in some way. what do you think we can do, ned?" "i don't know, but just at present i'm going to sleep. the panther, davy crockett and obed will debate the plans." ned, who was becoming inured to war and danger, was soon asleep, but will could not close his eyes. he had borne a gallant part in the defense, and the sounds of rifle shots and indian yells still resounded in his excited ear. he remained awake long after he heard the heavy breathing of the men about him, but exhausted nerves gave way at last and he, too, slept. the next morning their news was debated gravely by all. there was not one among them who did not understand its significance, but it was hard to agree upon a policy. davy crockett, who had just come, and who was practically a stranger to texas, gave his opinions with hesitation. "it's better for you, mr. panther, an' you, mr. white, to make the motions," he said, "an' i an' my tennesseans will endorse them. but it seems, boys, that if we came for a fight it is offered to us the moment we get here." "yes," said the twelve tennesseans all together. "i shall be compelled to leave you," said roylston. "pray, don't think it's because i'm afraid to fight the mexicans. but, as i told you before, i can do far greater good for the texan cause elsewhere. as i am now as well as ever, and i am able to take care of myself, i think i shall leave at once." "i've known you only a few hours, mr. roylston," said crockett, "but i've knocked around a hard world long enough to know a man when i see him. if you say you ought, you ought to go." "that's so," said the panther. "we've seen mr. roylston tried more than once, and nobody doubts his courage." a good horse, saddled and bridled, and arms and ammunition, were given to roylston. then he bade them farewell. when he was about twenty yards away he beckoned to ned. when the boy stood at his saddle bow he said very earnestly: "if you fall again into the hands of santa anna, and are in danger of your life, use my name with him. it is perhaps a more potent weapon than you think. do not forget." "i will not," said ned, "and i thank you very much, mr. roylston. but i hope that no such occasion will arise." "so do i," said roylston with emphasis. then he rode away, a square, strong figure, and never looked back. "what was he saying, ned?" asked will, when the boy returned. "merely promising help if we should need it, hereafter." "he looks like a man who would give it." after some further talk it was decided that ned, will, obed and the panther should ride south to watch the advance of santa anna, while crockett, fields and the remainder should go to san antonio and raise such troops as they could. "an' if you don't mind my sayin' it to you, mr. crockett," said the panther, "keep tellin' 'em over an' over again that they have need to beware. tell 'em that santa anna, with all the power of mexico at his back, is comin'." "fear not, my good friend," said davy crockett. "i shall tell them every hour of the day. i shall never cease to bring the information before the full quorum of the house. again i am parliamentary, but i think you understand, mr. panther." "we all understan'," said the panther, and then crockett rode away at the head of the little troop which tacitly made him commander. ned's eyes followed his figure as long as he was in sight. little did he dream of what was to pass when they should meet again, scenes that one could never forget, though he lived a thousand years. "a staunch man and true," said obed. "he will be a great help to texas." then they turned back to the cabin, the four of them, because they did not intend to go forth until night. they missed their comrades, but the cabin was a pleasant place, well stored now with meat of buffalo, deer and wild turkey. floor and walls alike were covered with dressed skins. "why not fasten it up just as tightly as we can before we go away," said allen. "the comanches are not likely to come back, the war is swinging another way, and maybe we'll find it here handy for us again some day." "you're talkin' sense, will allen," said the panther. "it's been a shelter to us once, and it might be a shelter to us twice. the smell of the meat will, of course, draw wolves an' panthers, but we can fix it so they can't get in." taking sufficient provisions for themselves, they put the rest high up on the rafters. then they secured the windows, and heaped logs before the door in such a manner that the smartest wolves and panthers in the world could not force an entrance. as they sat on their horses in the twilight preparatory to riding away, they regarded their work with great content. "there it is, waiting for us when we come again," said obed white. "it's a pleasant thing to have a castle for refuge when your enemies are making it too hot for you out in the open." "so it is," said the panther, "and a man finds that out more than once in his life." then they turned their horses and rode southward in the dusk. but before long they made an angle and turned almost due west. it was their intention to intersect the settlements that lay between the rio grande and san antonio and give warning of the approach of santa anna. they went on steadily over a rolling country, mostly bare, but with occasional clumps of trees. chapter vii the herald of attack about midnight they rode into the thickest part of the woods that they could find, and slept there until day. then they continued their course toward the west, and before night they saw afar small bands of horsemen. "what do you say they are?" asked the panther of ned when they beheld the first group. "seems to me they are mexican." ned looked long before returning an answer. then he replied with confidence: "yes, they are mexicans. the two men in the rear have lances, and no texan ever carried such a weapon." "then," said obed white, "it behooves us to have a care. we're scouts now and we're not looking for a battle. he who dodges the fight and runs away may live to scout another day." the mexican horsemen were on their right, and the four continued their steady course to the west. they were reassured by the fact that the mexicans were likely to take them in the distance for other mexicans. it became evident now that santa anna was taking every precaution. he was sending forward scouts and skirmishers in force, and the task of the four was likely to become one of great danger. toward night an uncommonly raw and cold wind began to blow. that winter was one of great severity in northern mexico and southern texas, noted also for its frequent northers. although the time for the texan spring was near at hand, there was little sign of it. not knowing what else to do they sought the shelter of timber again and remained there a while. by and by they saw for the second time a red glow in the south, and they knew that it came from the camp fires of santa anna. but it was now many miles north of the rio grande. santa anna was advancing. "he's pressin' forward fast," said the panther, "an' his skirmishers are scourin' the plain ahead of him. we've got to keep a sharp lookout, because we may run into 'em at any time. i think we'd better agree that if by any luck we get separated an' can't reunite, every fellow should ride hard for san antonio with the news." the plan seemed good to all, and, after a long wait, they rode to another clump of trees four or five hundred yards further south. here they saw the red glow more plainly. it could not be more than two miles away, and they believed that to approach any nearer was to imperil their task. before the first light appeared the next day they would turn back on san antonio as the heralds of santa anna's advance. the four sat on their horses among the trees, darker shadows in the shadow. beyond the little grove they saw the plain rolling away on every side bare to the horizon, except in the south, where the red glow always threatened. ned rode to the western edge of the grove in order to get a better view. he searched the plain carefully with his keen vision, but he could find no sign of life there in the west. he turned old jack in order to rejoin his comrades, when he suddenly heard a low sound from the east. he listened a moment, and then, hearing it distinctly, he knew it. it was the thud of hoofs, and the horsemen were coming straight toward the grove, which was two or three hundred yards in width. owing to the darkness and the foliage ned could not see his comrades, but he started toward them at once. then came a sudden cry, the rapid beat of hoofs, the crack of shots, and a mexican body of cavalry dashed into the wood directly between the boy and his comrades. he heard once the tremendous shout of the panther and the wild mexican yells. two horsemen fired at him and a third rode at him with extended lance. it was old jack that saved ned's life. the boy was so startled that his brain was in a paralysis for a moment. but the horse shied suddenly away from the head of the lance, which was flashing in the moonlight. ned retained both his seat and his rifle. he fired at the nearest of the mexicans, who fell from his saddle, and then, seeing that but one alternative was left him he gave old jack the rein and galloped from the grove into the west. amid all the rush and terrific excitement of the moment, ned thought of his comrades. it was not possible for him to join them now, but they were three together and they might escape. the panther was a wonderful borderer, and obed white was not far behind him. he turned his attention to his own escape. two more shots were fired at him, but in both cases the bullets went wide. then he heard only the thud of hoofs, but the pursuing horsemen were very near. something whizzed through the air and instinctively he bent forward almost flat on the neck of old jack. a coiling shape struck him on the head, slipped along his back, then along the quarters of his horse and fell to the ground. he felt as if a deadly snake had struck at him, and then had drawn its cold body across him. but he knew that it was a lasso. the mexicans would wish to take him alive, as they might secure valuable information from him. now he heard them shouting to one another, every one boasting that his would be the successful throw. as ned's rifle was empty, and he could not reload it at such speed, they seemed to fear nothing for themselves. he looked back. they numbered seven or eight, and they were certainly very near. they had spread out a little and whenever old jack veered a yard or two from the pursuers some one gained. he saw a coil of rope fly through the air and he bent forward again. it struck old jack on the saddle and fell to the ground. ned wondered why they did not fire now, but he remembered that their rifles or muskets, too, might be empty, and suddenly he felt a strange exultation. he was still lying forward on his horse's neck, and now he began to talk to him. "on! on! old jack," he said, "show 'em the cleanest heels that were ever seen in texas! on! on! my beauty of a horse, my jewel of a horse! would you let miserable mexican ponies overtake you? you who were never beaten! ah, now we gain! but faster! faster!" it seemed that old jack understood. he stretched out his long neck and became a streak in the darkness. a third mexican threw his lasso, but the noose only touched his flying tail. a fourth threw, and the noose did not reach him at all. they were far out on the plain now, where the moonlight revealed everything, and the horse's sure instinct would guide. ned felt old jack beneath him, running strong and true without a jar like the most perfect piece of machinery. he stole a glance over his shoulder. all the mexicans were there, too far away now for a throw of the lasso, but several of them were trying to reload their weapons. ned knew that if they succeeded he would be in great danger. no matter how badly they shot a chance bullet might hit him or his horse. and he could afford for neither himself nor old jack to be wounded. once more the boy leaned far over on his horse's neck and cried in his ear: "on, old jack, on! look, we gain now, but we must gain more. show to them what a horse you are!" and again the great horse responded. fast as he was going it seemed to ned that he now lengthened his stride. his long head was thrust out almost straight, and his great body fairly skimmed the earth. but the mexicans hung on with grim tenacity. their ponies were tough and enduring, and, spread out like the arc of a bow, they continually profited by some divergence that old jack made from the straight line. aware of this danger ned himself, nevertheless, was unable to tell whether the horse was going in a direct course, and he let him have his head. "crack!" went a musket, and a bullet sang past ned's face. it grazed old jack's ear, drawing blood. the horse uttered an angry snort and fairly leaped forward. ned looked back again. another man had succeeded in loading his musket and was about to fire. then the boy remembered the pistol at his belt. snatching it out he fired at the fellow with the loaded musket. the mexican reeled forward on his horse's neck and his weapon dropped to the ground. whether the man himself fell also ned never knew, because he quickly thrust the pistol back in his belt and once more was looking straight ahead. now confidence swelled again in his heart. he had escaped all their bullets so far, and he was still gaining. he would escape all the others and he would continue to gain. he saw just ahead of him one of the clumps of trees that dotted the plain, but, although it might give momentary protection from the bullets he was afraid to gallop into it, lest he be swept from his horse's back by the boughs or bushes. but his direct course would run close to the left side of it, and once more he sought to urge old jack to greater speed. the horse was still running without a jar. ned could not feel a single rough movement in the perfect machinery beneath him. unless wounded old jack would not fail him. he stole another of those fleeting glances backward. several of the mexicans, their ponies spent, were dropping out of the race, but enough were left to make the odds far too great. ned now skimmed along the edge of the grove, and when he passed it he turned his horse a little, so the trees were between him and his nearest pursuers. then he urged old jack to his last ounce of speed. the plain raced behind him, and fortunate clouds, too, now came, veiling the moon and turning the dusk into deeper darkness. ned heard one disappointed cry behind him, and then no sound but the flying beat of his own horse's hoofs. when he pulled rein and brought old jack to a walk he could see or hear nothing of the mexicans. the great horse was a lather of foam, his sides heaving and panting, and ned sprang to the ground. he reloaded his rifle and pistol and then walked toward the west, leading old jack by the bridle. he reckoned that the mexicans would go toward the north, thinking that he would naturally ride for san antonio, and hence he chose the opposite direction. he walked a long time and presently he felt the horse rubbing his nose gently against his arm. ned stroked the soft muzzle. "you've saved my life. old jack," he said, "and not for the first time. you responded to every call." the horse whinnied ever so softly, and ned felt that he was not alone. now he threw the bridle reins back over the horse's head, and then the two walked on, side by side, man and beast. they stopped at times, and it may be that the horse as well as the boy then looked and listened for a foe. but the mexicans had melted away completely in the night. it was likely now that they were going in the opposite direction, and assured that he was safe from them for the time ned collapsed, both physically and mentally. such tremendous exertions and such terrible excitement were bound to bring reaction. he began to tremble violently, and he became so weak that he could scarcely stand. the horse seemed to be affected in much the same way and walked slowly and painfully. ned saw another little grove, and he and the horse walked straight toward it. it was fairly dense, and when he was in the center of it he wrapped his rifle and himself in his serape and lay down. the horse sank on his side near him. he did not care for anything now except to secure rest. mexicans or comanches or lipans might be on the plain only a few hundred yards away. it did not matter to him. he responded to no emotion save the desire for rest, and in five minutes he was in a deep sleep. ned slept until long after daylight. he was so much exhausted that he scarcely moved during all that time. nor did the horse. old jack had run his good race and won the victory, and he, too, cared for nothing but to rest. before morning some lipan buffalo hunters passed, but they took no notice of the grove and soon disappeared in the west. after the dawn a detachment of mexican lancers riding to the east to join the force of santa anna also passed the clump of trees, but the horse and man lay in the densest part of it, and no pair of mexican eyes was keen enough to see them there. they were answering the call of santa anna, and they rode on at a trot, the grove soon sinking out of sight behind them. ned was awakened at last by the sun shining in his face. he stirred, recalled in a vague sort of way where he was and why he was there, and then rose slowly to his feet. his joints were stiff like those of an old man, and he rubbed them to acquire ease. a great bay horse, saddle on his back, was searching here and there for the young stems of grass. ned rubbed his eyes. it seemed to him that he knew that horse. and a fine big horse he was, too, worth knowing and owning. yes, it was old jack, the horse that had carried him to safety. his little store of provisions was still tied to the saddle and he ate hungrily. at the end of the grove was a small pool formed by the winter's rains, and though the water was far from clear he drank his fill. he flexed and tensed his muscles again until all the stiffness and soreness were gone. then he made ready for his departure. he could direct his course by the sun, and he intended to go straight to san antonio. he only hoped that he might get there before the arrival of santa anna and his army. he could not spare the time to seek his comrades, and he felt much apprehension for them, but he yet had the utmost confidence in the skill of the panther and obed white. it was about two hours before noon when ned set out across the plain. usually in this region antelope were to be seen on the horizon, but they were all gone now. the boy considered it a sure sign that mexican detachments had passed that way. it was altogether likely, too, so he calculated, that the mexican army was now nearer than he to san antonio. his flight had taken him to the west while santa anna was moving straight toward the texan outworks. but he believed that by steady riding he could reach san antonio within twenty-four hours. the afternoon passed without event. ned saw neither human beings nor game on the vast prairie. he had hoped that by some chance he might meet with his comrades, but there was no sign of them, and he fell back on his belief that their skill and great courage had saved them. seeking to dismiss them from his thoughts for the time in order that he might concentrate all his energies on san antonio, he rode on. the horse had recovered completely from his great efforts of the preceding night, and once more that magnificent piece of machinery worked without a jar. old jack moved over the prairie with long, easy strides. it seemed to ned that he could never grow weary. he patted the sinewy and powerful neck. "gallant comrade," he said, "you have done your duty and more. you, at least, will never fail." twilight came down, but ned kept on. by and by he saw in the east, and for the third time, that fatal red glow extending far along the dusky horizon. all that he had feared of santa anna was true. the dictator was marching fast, whipping his army forward with the fierce energy that was a part of his nature. it was likely, too, that squadrons of his cavalry were much further on. a daring leader like urrea would certainly be miles ahead of the main army, and it was more than probable that bands of mexican horsemen were now directly between him and san antonio. ned knew that he would need all his strength and courage to finish his task. so he gave old jack a little rest, although he did not seem to need it, and drew once more upon his rations. when he remounted he was conscious that the air had grown much colder. a chill wind began to cut him across the cheek. snow, rain and wind have played a great part in the fate of armies, and they had much to do with the struggle between texas and mexico in that fateful february. ned's experience told him that another norther was about to begin, and he was glad of it. one horseman could make much greater progress through it than an army. the wind rose fast and then came hail and snow on its edge. the red glow in the east disappeared. but ned knew that it was still there. the norther had merely drawn an icy veil between. he shivered, and the horse under him shivered, too. once more he wrapped around his body the grateful folds of the serape and he drew on a pair of buckskin gloves, a part of his winter equipment. then he rode on straight toward san antonio as nearly as he could calculate. the norther increased in ferocity. it brought rain, hail and snow, and the night darkened greatly. ned began to fear that he would get lost. it was almost impossible to keep the true direction in such a driving storm. he had no moon and stars to guide him, and he was compelled to rely wholly upon instinct. sometimes he was in woods, sometimes upon the plain, and once or twice he crossed creeks, the waters of which were swollen and muddy. the norther was not such a blessing after all. he might be going directly away from san antonio, while santa anna, with innumerable guides, would easily reach there the next day. he longed for those faithful comrades of his. the four of them together could surely find a way out of this. he prayed now that the norther would cease, but his prayer was of no avail. it whistled and moaned about him, and snow and hail were continually driven in his face. fortunately the brim of the sombrero protected his eyes. he floundered on until midnight. the norther was blowing as fiercely as ever, and he and old jack were brought up by a thicket too dense for them to penetrate. ned understood now that he was lost. instinct had failed absolutely. brave and resourceful as he was he uttered a groan of despair. it was torture to be so near the end of his task and then to fail. but the despair lasted only a moment. the courage of a nature containing genuine greatness brought back hope. he dismounted and led his horse around the thicket. then they came to a part of the woods which seemed thinner, and not knowing anything else to do he went straight ahead. but he stopped abruptly when his feet sank in soft mud. he saw directly before him a stream yellow, swollen and flowing faster than usual. ned knew that it was the san antonio river, and now he had a clue. by following its banks he would reach the town. the way might be long, but it must inevitably lead him to san antonio, and he would take it. he remounted and rode forward as fast as he could. the river curved and twisted, but he was far more cheerful now. the san antonio was like a great coiling rope, but if he followed it long enough he would certainly come to the end that he wished. the norther continued to blow. he and his horse were a huge moving shape of white. now and then the snow, coating too thickly upon his serape, fell in lumps to the ground, but it was soon coated anew and as thick as ever. but whatever happened he never let the san antonio get out of his sight. he was compelled to stop at last under a thick cluster of oaks, where he was somewhat sheltered from the wind and snow. here he dismounted again, stamped his feet vigorously for warmth and also brushed the snow from his faithful horse. old jack, as usual, rubbed his nose against the boy's arm. the horse was a source of great comfort and strength to ned. he always believed that he would have collapsed without him. as nearly as he could guess the time it was about halfway between midnight and morning, and in order to preserve his strength he forced himself to eat a little more. a half hour's rest, and remounting he resumed his slow progress by the river. the rest had been good for both his horse and himself, and the blood felt warmer in his veins. he moved for some time among trees and thickets that lined the banks, and after a while he recognized familiar ground. he had been in some of these places in the course of the siege of san antonio, and the town could not be far away. it was probably two hours before daylight when he heard a sound which was not that of the norther, a sound which he knew instantly. it was the dull clank of bronze against bronze. it could be made only by one cannon striking against another. then santa anna, or one of his generals, despite the storm and the night, was advancing with his army, or a part of it. ned shivered, and now not from the cold. the texans did not understand the fiery energy of this man. they would learn of it too late, unless he told them, and it might be too late even then. he pressed on with as much increase of speed as the nature of the ground would allow. in another hour the snow and hail ceased, but the wind still blew fiercely, and it remained very cold. the dawn began to show dimly through drifting clouds. ned did not recall until long afterward that it was the birthday of the great washington. by a singular coincidence santa anna appeared before taylor with a vastly superior force on the same birthday eleven years later. it was a hidden sun, and the day was bleak with clouds and driving winds. nevertheless the snow that had fallen began to disappear. ned and old jack still made their way forward, somewhat slowly now, as they were stiff and sore from the long night's fight with darkness and cold. on his right, only a few feet away, was the swollen current of the san antonio. the stream looked deep to ned, and it bore fragments of timber upon its muddy bosom. it seemed to him that the waters rippled angrily against the bank. his excited imagination--and full cause there was--gave a sinister meaning to everything. a heavy fog began to rise from the river and wet earth. he could not see far in front of him, but he believed that the town was now only a mile or two away. soon a low, heavy sound, a measured stroke, came out of the fog. it was the tolling of the church bell in san antonio, and for some reason its impact upon ned's ear was like the stroke of death. a strange chilly sensation ran down his spine. he rode to the very edge of the stream and began to examine it for a possible ford. san antonio was on the other side, and he must cross. but everywhere the dark, swollen waters threatened, and he continued his course along the bank. a thick growth of bushes and a high portion of the bank caused him presently to turn away from the river until he could make a curve about the obstacles. the tolling of the bell had now ceased, and the fog was lifting a little. out of it came only the low, angry murmur of the river's current. as ned turned the curve the wind grew much stronger. the bank of fog was split asunder and then floated swiftly away in patches and streamers. on his left beyond the river ned saw the roofs of the town, now glistening in the clear morning air, and on his right, only four or five hundred yards away, he saw a numerous troop of mexican cavalry. in the figure at the head of the horsemen he was sure that he recognized urrea. ned's first emotion was a terrible sinking of the heart. after all that he had done, after all his great journeys, hardships and dangers, he was to fail with the towers and roofs of san antonio in sight. it was the triumphant cry of the mexicans that startled him into life again. they had seen the lone horseman by the river and they galloped at once toward him. ned had made no mistake. it was urrea, pressing forward ahead of the army, who led the troop, and it may be that he recognized the boy also. with the cry of the mexicans ringing in his ears, the boy shouted to old jack. the good horse, as always, made instant response, and began to race along the side of the river. but even his mighty frame had been weakened by so much strain. ned noticed at once that the machinery jarred. the great horse was laboring hard and the mexican cavalry, comparatively fresh, was coming on fast. it was evident that he would soon be overtaken, and so sure were the mexicans of it that they did not fire. there were deep reserves of courage and fortitude in this boy, deeper than even he himself suspected. when he saw that he could not escape by speed, the way out flashed upon him. to think was to do. he turned his horse without hesitation and urged him forward with a mighty cry. never had old jack made a more magnificent response. ned felt the mighty mass of bone and muscle gather in a bunch beneath him. then, ready to expand again with violent energy, it was released as if by the touch of a spring. the horse sprang from the high bank far out into the deep river. ned felt his serape fly from him and his rifle dropped from his hand. then the yellow waters closed over both him and old jack. they came up again, ned still on the horse's back, but with an icy chill through all his veins. he could not see for a moment or two, as the water was in his eyes, but he heard dimly the shouts of the mexicans and several shots. two or three bullets splashed the water around him and another struck his sombrero, which was floating away on the surface of the stream. the horse, turning somewhat, swam powerfully in a diagonal course across the stream. ned, dazed for the moment by the shock of the plunge from a height into the water, clung tightly to his back. he sat erect at first, and then remembering that he must evade the bullets leaned forward with the horse's neck between him and the mexicans. more shots were fired, but again he was untouched, and then the horse was feeling with his forefeet in the muddy bank for a hold. the next instant, with a powerful effort, he pulled himself upon the shore. the violent shock nearly threw ned from his back, but the boy seized his mane and hung on. the mexicans shouted and fired anew, but ned, now sitting erect, raced for san antonio, only a mile away. chapter viii in the alamo most of the people in san antonio were asleep when the dripping figure of a half unconscious boy on a great horse galloped toward them in that momentous dawn. he was without hat or serape. he was bareheaded and his rifle was gone. he was shouting "up! up! santa anna and the mexican army are at hand!" but his voice was so choked and hoarse that he could not be heard a hundred feet away. davy crockett, james bowie and a third man were standing in the main plaza. the third man, like the other two, was of commanding proportions. he was a full six feet in height, very erect and muscular, and with full face and red hair. he was younger than the others, not more than twenty-eight, but he was colonel william barrett travis, a north carolina lawyer, who was now in command of the few texans in san antonio. the three men were talking very anxiously. crockett had brought word that the army of santa anna was on the texan side of the rio grande, but it had seemed impossible to rouse the texans to a full sense of the impending danger. many remained at their homes following their usu vocations. mr. austin was away in the states trying to raise money. dissensions were numerous in the councils of the new government, and the leaders could agree upon nothing. travis, bowie and crockett were aware of the great danger, but even they did not believe it was so near. nevertheless they were full of anxiety. crockett, just come to texas, took no command and sought to keep in the background, but he was too famous and experienced a man not to be taken at once by travis and bowie into their councils. they were discussing now the possibility of getting help. "we might send messengers to the towns further east," said travis, "and at least get a few men here in time." "we need a good many," said bowie. "according to mr. crockett the mexican army is large, and the population here is unfriendly." "that is so," said travis, "and we have women and children of our own to protect." it was when he spoke the last words that they heard the clatter of hoofs and saw ned dashing down the narrow street toward the main plaza. they heard him trying to shout, but his voice was now so hoarse that he could not be understood. but ned, though growing weaker fast, knew two of the men. he could never forget the fair-haired bowie nor the swarthy crockett, and he galloped straight toward them. then he pulled up his horse and half fell, half leaped to the ground. holding by old jack's mane he pulled himself into an erect position. he was a singular sight the water still fell from his wet hair and dripped from his clothing. his face was plastered with mud. "santa anna's army, five thousand strong, is not two miles away!" he said. "i tell you because i have seen it!" "good god!" cried bowie. "it's the boy, ned fulton. i know him well. what he says must be truth." "it is every word truth!" croaked ned. "i was pursued by their vanguard! my horse swam the river with me! up! up! for texas!" then he fainted dead away. bowie seized him in his powerful arms and carried him into one of the houses occupied by the texans, where men stripped him of his wet clothing and gave him restoratives. but bowie himself hurried out into the main plaza. he had the most unlimited confidence in ned's word and so had crockett. they and travis at once began to arrange the little garrison for defence. many of the texans even yet would not believe. so great had been their confidence that they had sent out no scouting parties. only a day or two before they had been enjoying themselves at a great dance. the boy who had come with the news that santa anna was at hand must be distraught. certainly he had looked like a maniac. a loud cry suddenly came from the roof of the church of san fernando. two sentinels posted there had seen the edge of a great army appear upon the plain and then spread rapidly over it. santa anna's army had come. the mad boy was right. two horsemen sent out to reconnoiter had to race back for their lives. the flooded stream was now subsiding and only the depth of the water in the night had kept the mexicans from taking cannon across and attacking. ned's faint was short. he remembered putting on clothing, securing a rifle and ammunition, and then he ran out into the square. from many windows he saw the triumphant faces of mexicans looking out, but he paid no attention to them. he thought alone of the texans, who were now displaying the greatest energy. in the face of the imminent and deadly peril travis, crockett, bowie and the others were cool and were acting with rapidity. the order was swiftly given to cross to the alamo, the old mission built like a fortress, and the texans were gathering in a body. ned saw a young lieutenant named dickinson catch up his wife and child on a horse, and join the group of men. all the texans had their long rifles, and there were also cannon. as ned took his place with the others a kindly hand fell upon his shoulder and a voice spoke in his ear. "i was going to send for you, ned," said bowie, "but you've come. perhaps it would have been better for you, though, if you had been left in san antonio." "oh, no, mr. bowie!" cried ned. "don't say that. we can beat off any number of mexicans!" bowie said nothing more. much of ned's courage and spirit returned, but he saw how pitifully small their numbers were. the little band that defiled across the plain toward the alamo numbered less than one hundred and fifty men, and many of them were without experience. they were not far upon the plain when ned saw a great figure coming toward him. it was old jack, who had been forgotten in the haste and excitement. the saddle was still on his back and his bridle trailed on the ground. ned met him and patted his faithful head. already he had taken his resolution. there would be no place for old jack in the alamo, but this good friend of his should not fall into the hands of the mexicans. he slipped off saddle and bridle, struck him smartly on the shoulder and exclaimed: "good-by, old jack, good-by! keep away from our enemies and wait for me." the horse looked a moment at his master, and, to ned's excited eyes, it seemed for a moment that he wished to speak. old jack had never before been dismissed in this manner. ned struck him again and yet more sharply. "go, old friend!" he cried. the good horse trotted away across the plain. once he looked back as if in reproach, but as ned did not call him he kept on and disappeared over a swell. it was to ned like the passing of a friend, but he knew that old jack would not allow the mexicans to take him. he would fight with both teeth and hoofs against any such ignominious capture. then ned turned his attention to the retreat. it was a little band that went toward the alamo, and there were three women and three children in it, but since they knew definitely that santa anna and his great army had come there was not a texan who shrank from his duty. they had been lax in their watch and careless of the future, faults frequent in irregular troops, but in the presence of overwhelming danger they showed not the least fear of death. they reached the alamo side of the river. before them they saw the hewn stone walls of the mission rising up in the form of a cross and facing the river and the town. it certainly seemed welcome to a little band of desperate men who were going to fight against overwhelming odds. ned also saw not far away the mexican cavalry advancing in masses. the foremost groups were lancers, and the sun glittered on the blades of their long weapons. ned believed that urrea was somewhere in one of these leading groups. urrea he knew was full of skill and enterprise, but his heart filled with bitterness against him. he had tasted the texan salt, he had broken bread with those faithful friends of his, the panther and obed white, and now he was at santa anna's right hand, seeking to destroy the texans utterly. "looks as if i'd have a lot of use for old betsy," said a whimsical voice beside him. "somebody said when i started away from tennessee that i'd have nothing to do with it, might as well leave my rifle at home. but i 'low that old betsy is the most useful friend i could have just now." it was, of course, davy crockett who spoke. he was as cool as a cake of ice. old betsy rested in the hollow of his arm, the long barrel projecting several feet. his raccoon skin cap was on the back of his head. his whole manner was that of one who was in the first stage of a most interesting event. but as ned was looking at him a light suddenly leaped in the calm eye. "look there! look there!" said davy crockett, pointing a long finger. "we'll need food in that alamo place, an' behold it on the hoof!" about forty cattle had been grazing on the plain. they had suddenly gathered in a bunch, startled by the appearance of so many people, and of galloping horsemen. "we'll take 'em with us! we'll need 'em! say we can do it, colonel!" shouted crockett to travis. travis nodded. "come on, ned," cried crockett, "an' come on the rest of you fleet-footed fellows! every mother's son of you has driv' the cows home before in his time, an' now you kin do it again!" a dozen swift texans ran forward with shouts, ned and davy crockett at their head. crockett was right. this was work that every one of them knew how to do. in a flash they were driving the whole frightened herd in a run toward the gate that led into the great plaza of the alamo. the swift motion, the sense of success in a sudden maneuver, thrilled ned. he shouted at the cattle as he would have done when he was a small boy. they were near the gate when he heard an ominous sound by his side. it was the cocking of davy crockett's rifle, and when he looked around he saw that old betsy was leveled, and that the sure eye of the tennessean was looking down the sights. some of the mexican skirmishers seeing the capture of the herd by the daring texans were galloping forward to check it. crockett's finger pressed the trigger. old betsy flashed and the foremost rider fell to the ground. "i told that mexican to come down off his horse, and he came down," chuckled crockett. the mexicans drew back, because other texan rifles, weapons that they had learned to dread, were raised. a second body of horsemen charged from a different angle, and ned distinctly saw urrea at their head. he fired, but the bullet missed the partisan leader and brought down another man behind him. "there are good pickings here," said davy crockett, "but they'll soon be too many for us. come on, ned, boy! our place is behind them walls!" "yes," repeated bowie, who was near. "it's the alamo or nothing. no matter how fast we fired our rifles we'd soon be trod under foot by the mexicans." they passed in, bowie, crockett and ned forming the rear guard. the great gates of the alamo were closed behind them and barred. for the moment they were safe, because these doors were made of very heavy oak, and it would require immense force to batter them in. it was evident that the mexican horsemen on the plain did not intend to make any such attempt, as they drew off hastily, knowing that the deadly texan rifles would man the walls at once. "well, here we are, ned," said the cheerful voice of davy crockett, "an' if we want to win glory in fightin' it seems that we've got the biggest chance that was ever offered to anybody. i guess when old santa anna comes up he'll say: 'by nations right wheel; forward march the world.' still these walls will help a little to make up the difference between fifty to one." as he spoke he tapped the outer wall. "no mexican on earth," he said, "has got a tough enough head to butt through that. at least i think so. now what do you think, ned?" his tone was so whimsical that ned was compelled to laugh despite their terrible situation. "it's a pity, though," continued crockett, "that we've got such a big place here to defend. sometimes you're the stronger the less ground you spread over." ned glanced around. he had paid the alamo one hasty visit just after the capture of san antonio by the texans, but he took only a vague look then. now it was to make upon his brain a photograph which nothing could remove as long as he lived. he saw in a few minutes all the details of the alamo. he knew already its history. this mission of deathless fame was even then more than a century old. its name, the alamo, signified "the cottonwood tree," but that has long since been lost in another of imperishable grandeur. the buildings of the mission were numerous, the whole arranged, according to custom, in the form of a cross. the church, which was now without a roof, faced town and river, but it contained arched rooms, and the sacristy had a solid roof of masonry. the windows, cut for the needs of an earlier time, were high and narrow, in order that attacking indians might not pour in flights of arrows upon those who should be worshipping there. over the heavy oaken doors were images and carvings in stone worn by time. to the left of the church, beside the wing of the cross, was the plaza of the convent, about thirty yards square, with its separate walls more than fifteen feet high and nearly four feet thick. ned noted all these things rapidly and ineffaceably, as he and crockett took a swift but complete survey of their fortress. he saw that the convent and hospital, each two stories in height, were made of adobe bricks, and he also noticed a sallyport, protected by a little redoubt, at the southeastern corner of the yard. they saw beyond the convent yard the great plaza into which they had driven the cattle, a parallelogram covering nearly three acres, inclosed by a wall eight feet in height and three feet thick. prisons, barracks and other buildings were scattered about. beyond the walls was a small group of wretched jacals or huts in which some mexicans lived. water from the san antonio flowed in ditches through the mission. it was almost a town that they were called upon to defend, and ned and crockett, after their hasty look, came back to the church, the strongest of all the buildings, with walls of hewn stone five feet thick and nearly twenty-five feet high. they opened the heavy oaken doors, entered the building and looked up through the open roof at the sky. then crockett's eyes came back to the arched rooms and the covered sacristy. "this is the real fort," he said, "an' we'll put our gunpowder in that sacristy. it looks like sacrilege to use a church for such a purpose, but, ned, times are goin' to be very hot here, the hottest we ever saw, an' we must protect our powder." he carried his suggestion to travis, who adopted it at once, and the powder was quickly taken into the rooms. they also had fourteen pieces of cannon which they mounted on the walls of the church, at the stockade at the entrance to the plaza and at the redoubt. but the texans, frontiersmen and not regular soldiers, did not place much reliance upon the cannon. their favorite weapon was the rifle, with which they rarely missed even at long range. it took the texans but little time to arrange the defence, and then came a pause. ned did not have any particular duty assigned to him, and went back to the church, which now bore so little resemblance to a house of worship. he gazed curiously at the battered carvings and images over the door. they looked almost grotesque to him now, and some of them threatened. he went inside the church and looked around once more. it was old, very old. the grayness of age showed everywhere, and the silence of the defenders on the walls deepened its ancient aspect. but the norther had ceased to blow, and the sun came down, bright and unclouded, through the open roof. ned climbed upon the wall. bowie, who was behind one of the cannon, beckoned to him. ned joined him and leaned upon the gun as bowie pointed toward san antonio. "see the mexican masses," he said. "ned, you were a most timely herald. if it had not been for you our surprise would have been total. look how they defile upon the plain." the army of santa anna was entering san antonio and it was spread out far and wide. the sun glittered on lances and rifles, and brightened the bronze barrels of cannon. the triumphant notes of a bugle came across the intervening space, and when the bugle ceased a mexican band began to play. it was fine music. the mexicans had the latin ear, the gift for melody, and the air they played was martial and inspiring. one could march readily to its beat. bowie frowned. "they think it nothing more than a parade," he said. "but when santa anna has taken us he will need a new census of his army." he looked around at the strong stone walls, and then at the resolute faces of the men near him. but the garrison was small, pitifully small. ned left the walls and ate a little food that was cooked over a fire lighted in the convent plaza. then he wandered about the place looking at the buildings and inclosures. the alamo was so extensive that he knew travis would be compelled to concentrate his defense about the church, but he wanted to examine all these places anyhow. he wandered into one building that looked like a storehouse. the interior was dry and dusty. cobwebs hung from the walls, and it was empty save for many old barrels that stood in the corner. ned looked casually into the barrels and then he uttered a shout of joy. a score of so of them were full of shelled indian corn in perfect condition, a hundred bushels at least. this was truly treasure trove, more valuable than if the barrels had been filled with coined gold. he ran out of the house and the first man he met was davy crockett. "now what has disturbed you?" asked crockett, in his drawling tone. "haven't you seen mexicans enough for one day? this ain't the time to see double." "i wish i could see double in this case, mr. crockett," replied ned, "because then the twenty barrels of corn that i've found would be forty." he took crockett triumphantly into the building and showed him the treasure, which was soon transferred to one of the arched rooms beside the entrance of the church. it was in truth one of the luckiest finds ever made. the cattle in the plaza would furnish meat for a long time, but they would need bread also. again ned felt that pleasant glow of triumph. it seemed that fortune was aiding them. he went outside and stood by the ditch which led a shallow stream of water along the eastern side of the church. it was greenish in tint, but it was water, water which would keep the life in their bodies while they fought off the hosts of santa anna. the sun was now past the zenith, and since the norther had ceased to blow there was a spring warmth in the air. ned, conscious now that he was stained with the dirt and dust of flight and haste, bathed his face and hands in the water of the ditch and combed his thick brown hair as well as he could with his fingers. "good work, my lad," said a hearty voice beside him. "it shows that you have a cool brain and an orderly mind." davy crockett, who was always neat, also bathed his own face and hands in the ditch. "now i feel a lot better," he said, "and i want to tell you, ned, that it's lucky the spanish built so massively. look at this church. it's got walls of hewn stone, five feet through, an' back in tennessee we build 'em of planks a quarter of an inch thick. why, these walls would turn the biggest cannon balls." "it surely is mighty lucky," said ned. "what are you going to do next, mr. crockett?" "i don't know. i guess we'll wait on the mexicans to open the battle. thar, do you hear that trumpet blowin' ag'in? i reckon it means that they're up to somethin'." "i think so, too," said ned. "let's go back upon the church walls, mr. crockett, and see for ourselves just what it means." the two climbed upon the great stone wall, which was in reality a parapet. travis and bowie, who was second in command, were there already. ned looked toward san antonio, and he saw mexicans everywhere. mexican flags hoisted by the people were floating from the flat roofs of the houses, signs of their exultation at the coming of santa anna and the expulsion of the texans. the trumpet sounded again and they saw three officers detach themselves from the mexican lines and ride forward under a white flag. ned knew that one of them was the young urrea. "now what in thunder can they want?" growled davy crockett. "there can be no talk or truce between us an' santa anna. if all that i've heard of him is true i'd never believe a word he says." travis called two of his officers, major morris and captain martin, and directed them to go out and see what the mexicans wanted. then, meeting ned's eye, he recalled something. "ah, you speak spanish and mexican spanish perfectly," he said. "will you go along, too?" "gladly," said ned. "an', ned," said davy crockett, in his whimsical tone, "if you don't tell me every word they said when you come back i'll keep you on bread an' water for a week. there are to be no secrets here from me." "i promise, mr. crockett," said ned. the heavy oaken doors were thrown open and the three went out on foot to meet the mexican officers who were riding slowly forward. the afternoon air was now soft and pleasant, and a light, soothing wind was blowing from the south. the sky was a vast dome of brilliant blue and gold. it was a picture that remained indelibly on ned's mind like many others that were to come. they were etched in so deeply that neither the colors nor the order of their occurrence ever changed. an odor, a touch, or anything suggestive would make them return to his mind, unfaded and in proper sequence like the passing of moving pictures. the mexicans halted in the middle of the plain and the three texans met them. the mexicans did not dismount. urrea was slightly in advance of the other two, who were older men in brilliant uniforms, generals at least. ned saw at once that they meant to be haughty and arrogant to the last degree. they showed it in the first instance by not dismounting. it was evident that urrea would be the chief spokesman, and his manner indicated that it was a part he liked. he, too, was in a fine uniform, irreproachably neat, and his handsome olive face was flushed. "and so," he said, in an undertone and in spanish to ned, "we are here face to face again. you have chosen your own trap, the alamo, and it is not in human power for you to escape it now." his taunt stung, but ned merely replied: "we shall see." then urrea said aloud, speaking in english, and addressing himself to the two officers: "we have come by order of general santa anna, president of mexico and commander-in-chief of her officers, to make a demand of you." "a conference must proceed on the assumption that the two parties to it are on equal terms," said major morris, in civil tones. "under ordinary circumstances, yes," said urrea, without abating his haughty manner one whit, "but this is a demand by a paramount authority upon rebels and traitors." he paused that his words might sink home. all three of the texans felt anger leap in their hearts, but they put restraint upon their words. "what is it that you wish to say to us?" continued major morris. "if it is anything we should hear we are listening." urrea could not subdue his love of the grandiose and theatrical. "as you may see for yourselves," he said, "general santa anna has returned to texas with an overpowering force of brave mexican troops. san antonio has fallen into his hands without a struggle. he can take the alamo in a day. in a month not a man will be left in texas able to dispute his authority." "these are statements most of which can be disputed," said major morris. "what does general santa anna demand of us?" his quiet manner had its effect upon urrea. "he demands your unconditional surrender," he said. "and does he say nothing about our lives and good treatment?" continued the major, in the same quiet tones. "he does not," replied urrea emphatically. "if you receive mercy it will be due solely to the clemency of general santa anna toward rebels." hot anger again made ned's heart leap. the tone of urrea was almost insufferable, but major morris, not he, was spokesman. "i am not empowered to accept or reject anything," continued major morris. "colonel travis is the commander of our force, but i am quite positive in my belief that he will not surrender." "we must carry back our answer in either the affirmative or the negative," said urrea. "you can do neither," said major morris, "but i promise you that if the answer is a refusal to surrender--and i know it will be such--a single cannon shot will be fired from the wall of the church." "very well," said urrea, "and since that is your arrangement i see nothing more to be said." "nor do i," said major morris. the mexicans saluted in a perfunctory manner and rode toward san antonio. the three texans went slowly back to the alamo. ned walked behind the two men. he hoped that the confidence of major morris was justified. he knew santa anna too well. he believed that the texans had more to fear from surrender than from defence. they entered the alamo and once more the great door was shut and barred heavily. they climbed upon the wall, and major morris and captain martin went toward travis, bowie and crockett, who stood together waiting. ned paused a little distance away. he saw them talking together earnestly, but he could not hear what they said. far away he saw the three mexicans riding slowly toward san antonio. ned's eyes came back to the wall. he saw bowie detach himself from the other two and advance toward the cannon. a moment later a flash came from its muzzle, a heavy report rolled over the plain, and then came back in faint echoes. the alamo had sent its answer. a deep cheer came from the texans. ned's heart thrilled. he had his wish. the boy looked back toward san antonio and his eyes were caught by something red on the tower of the church of san fernando. it rose, expanded swiftly, and then burst out in great folds. it was a blood-red flag, flying now in the wind, the flag of no quarter. no texan would be spared, and ned knew it. nevertheless his heart thrilled again. chapter ix the flag of no quarter ned gazed long at the great red flag as its folds waved in the wind. a chill ran down his spine, a strange, throbbing sensation, but not of fear. they were a tiny islet there amid a mexican sea which threatened to roll over them. but the signal of the flag, he realized, merely told him that which he had expected all the time. he knew santa anna. he would show no quarter to those who had humbled cos and his forces at san antonio. the boy was not assigned to the watch that night, but he could not sleep for a long time. among these borderers there was discipline, but it was discipline of their own kind, not that of the military martinet. ned was free to go about as he chose, and he went to the great plaza into which they had driven the cattle. some supplies of hay had been gathered for them, and having eaten they were now all at rest in a herd, packed close against the western side of the wall. ned passed near them, but they paid no attention to him, and going on he climbed upon the portion of the wall which ran close to the river. some distance to his right and an equal distance to his left were sentinels. but there was nothing to keep him from leaping down from the wall or the outside and disappearing. the mexican investment was not yet complete. yet no such thought ever entered ned's head. his best friends, will allen, the panther and obed white, were out there somewhere, if they were still alive, but his heart was now here in the alamo with the texans. he listened intently, but he heard no sound of any mexican advance. it occurred to him that a formidable attack might be made here, particularly under the cover of darkness. a dashing leader like the younger urrea might attempt a surprise. he dropped back inside and went to one of the sentinels who was standing on an abutment with his head just showing above the wall. he was a young man, not more than two or three years older than ned, and he was glad to have company. "have you heard or seen anything?" asked ned. "no," replied the sentinel, "but i've been looking for 'em down this way." they waited a little longer and then ned was quite sure that he saw a dim form in the darkness. he pointed toward it, but the sentinel could not see it at all, as ned's eyes were much the keener: but the shape grew clearer and ned's heart throbbed. the figure was that of a great horse, and ned recognized old jack. nothing could have persuaded him that the faithful beast was not seeking his master, and he emitted a low soft whistle. the horse raised his head, listened and then trotted forward. "he is mine," said ned, "and he knows me." "he won't be yours much longer," said the sentinel. "look, there's a mexican creeping along the ground after him." ned followed the pointing finger, and he now noticed the mexican, a vaquero, who had been crouching so low that his figure blurred with the earth. ned saw the coiled lariat hanging over his arm, and he knew that the man intended to capture old jack, a prize worth any effort. "do you think i ought to shoot him?" asked the sentinel. "not yet, at least," replied ned. "i brought my horse into this danger, but i think that he'll take himself out of it." old jack had paused, as if uncertain which way to go. but ned felt sure that he was watching the mexican out of the tail of his eye. the vaquero, emboldened by the prospect of such a splendid prize, crept closer and closer, and then suddenly threw the lasso. the horse's head ducked down swiftly, the coil of rope slipped back over his head, and he dashed at the mexican. the vaquero was barely in time to escape those terrible hoofs. but howling with terror he sprang clear and raced away in the darkness. the horse whinnied once or twice gently, waited, and, when no answer came to his calls, trotted off in the dusk. "no mexican will take your horse," said the sentinel. "you're right when you say that," said ned. "i don't think another will ever get so near him, but if he should you see that my horse knows how to take care of himself." ned wandered back toward the convent yard. it was now late, but a clear moon was shining. he saw the figures of the sentinels clearly on the walls, but he was confident that no attack would be made by the mexicans that night. his great tension and excitement began to relax and he felt that he could sleep. he decided that the old hospital would be a good place, and, taking his blankets, he entered the long room of that building. only the moonlight shone there, but a friendly voice hailed him at once. "it's time you were hunting rest, ned," said davy crockett. "i saw you wanderin' 'roun' as if you was carryin' the world on your shoulders, but i didn't say anything. i knew that you would come to if left to yourself. there's a place over there by the wall where the floor seems to be a little softer than it is most everywhere else. take it an' enjoy it." ned laughed and took the place to which crockett was pointing. the hardness of a floor was nothing to him, and with one blanket under him and another over him he went to sleep quickly, sleeping the night through without a dream. he awoke early, took a breakfast of fresh beef with the men in the convent yard, and then, rifle in hand, he mounted the church wall. all his intensity of feeling returned with the morning. he was eager to see what was passing beyond the alamo, and the first object that caught his eye was the blood-red flag of no quarter hanging from the tower of the church of san fernando. no wind was blowing and it drooped in heavy scarlet folds like a pall. looking from the flag to the earth, he saw great activity in the mexican lines. three or four batteries were being placed in position, and mexican officers, evidently messengers, were galloping about. the flat roofs of the houses in san antonio were covered with people. ned knew that they were there to see santa anna win a quick victory and take immediate vengeance upon the texans. he recognized santa anna himself riding in his crouched attitude upon a great white horse, passing from battery to battery and hurrying the work. there was proof that his presence was effective, as the men always worked faster when he came. ned saw all the texan leaders, travis, bowie, crockett and bonham, watching the batteries. the whole texan force was now manning the walls and the heavy cedar palisade at many points, but ned saw that for the present all their dealings would be with the cannon. earthworks had been thrown up to protect the mexican batteries, and the texan cannon were posted for reply, but ned noticed that his comrades seemed to think little of the artillery. in this desperate crisis they fondled their rifles lovingly. he was still watching the batteries, when a gush of smoke and flame came from one of the cannon. there was a great shout in the mexican lines, but the round shot spent itself against the massive stone walls of the mission. "they'll have to send out a stronger call than that," said davy crockett contemptuously, "before this 'coon comes down." travis went along the walls, saw that the texans were sheltering themselves, and waited. there was another heavy report and a second round shot struck harmlessly upon the stone. then the full bombardment began. a half dozen batteries rained shot and shell upon the alamo. the roar was continuous like the steady roll of thunder, and it beat upon the drums of ned's ears until he thought he would become deaf. he was crouched behind the stone parapet, but he looked up often enough to see what was going on. he saw a vast cloud of smoke gathering over river and town, rent continually by flashes of fire from the muzzles of the cannon. the air was full of hissing metal, shot and shell poured in a storm upon the alamo. now and then the texan cannon replied, but not often. the cannon fire was so great that for a time it shook ned's nerves. it seemed as if nothing could live under such a rain of missiles, but when he looked along the parapet and saw all the texans unharmed his courage came back. many of the balls were falling inside the church, in the convent yard and in the plazas, but the texans there were protected also, and as far as ned could see not a single man had been wounded. the cannonade continued for a full hour and then ceased abruptly. the great cloud of smoke began to lift, and the alamo, river and town came again into the brilliant sunlight. the word passed swiftly among the defenders that their fortress was uninjured and not a man hurt. as the smoke rose higher ned saw mexican officers with glasses examining the alamo to see what damage their cannon had done. he hoped they would feel mortification when they found it was so little. davy crockett knelt near him on the parapet, and ran his hand lovingly along the barrel of betsy, as one strokes the head of a child. "do you want some more rifles, davy?" asked bowie. "jest about a half dozen," replied crockett. "i think i can use that many before they clear out." six of the long-barreled texan rifles were laid at crockett's feet. ned watched with absorbed interest. crockett's eye was on the nearest battery and he was slowly raising betsy. "which is to be first, davy?" asked bowie. "the one with the rammer in his hand." crockett took a single brief look down the sights and pulled the trigger. the man with the rammer dropped to the earth and the rammer fell beside him. he lay quite still. crockett seized a second rifle and fired. a loader fell and he also lay still. a third rifle shot, almost as quick as a flash, and a gunner went down, a fourth and a man at a wheel fell, a fifth and the unerring bullet claimed a sponger, a sixth and a mexican just springing to cover was wounded in the shoulder. then crockett remained with the seventh rifle still loaded in his hands, as there was nothing to shoot at, all the mexicans now being hidden. but crockett, kneeling on the parapet, the rifle cocked and his finger on the trigger, watched in case any of the mexicans should expose himself again. he presented to ned the simile of some powerful animal about to spring. the lean, muscular figure was poised for instant action, and all the whimsicality and humor were gone from the eyes of the sharpshooter. a mighty shout of triumph burst from the texans. many a good marksman was there, but never before had they seen such shooting. the great reputation of davy crockett, universal in the southwest, was justified fully. the crew of the gun had been annihilated in less than a minute. for a while there was silence. then the mexicans, protected by the earthwork that they had thrown up, drew the battery back a hundred yards. even in the farther batteries the men were very careful about exposing themselves. the texans, seeing no sure target, held their fire. the mexicans opened a new cannonade and for another half hour the roar of the great guns drowned all other sounds. but when it ceased and the smoke drifted away the texans were still unharmed. ned was now by the side of bowie, who showed great satisfaction. "what will they do next?" asked ned. "i don't know, but you see now that it's not the biggest noise that hurts the most. they'll never get us with cannon fire. the only way they can do it is to attack the lowest part of our wall and make a bridge of their own bodies." "they are doing something now," said ned, whose far-sighted vision always served him well. "they are pulling down houses in the town next to the river." "that's so," said bowie, "but we won't have to wait long to see what they're about." hundreds of mexicans with wrecking hooks had assailed three or four of the houses, which they quickly pulled to pieces. others ran forward with the materials and began to build a bridge across the narrow san antonio. "they want to cross over on that bridge and get into a position at once closer and more sheltered," said bowie, "but unless i make a big mistake those men at work there are already within range of our rifles. shall we open fire, colonel?" he asked the question of travis, who nodded. a picked band of mexicans under general castrillon were gathered in a mass and were rapidly fitting together the timbers of the houses to make the narrow bridge. but the reach of the texan rifles was great, and davy crockett was merely the king among so many sharpshooters. the rifles began to flash and crack. no man fired until he was sure of his aim, and no two picked the same target. the mexicans fell fast. in five minutes thirty or forty were killed, some of them falling into the river, and the rest, dropping the timbers, fled with shouts of horror from the fatal spot. general castrillon, a brave man, sought to drive them back, but neither blows nor oaths availed. santa anna himself came and made many threats, but the men would not stir. they preferred punishment to the sure death that awaited them from the muzzles of the texan rifles. the light puffs of rifle smoke were quickly gone, and once more the town with the people watching on the flat roofs came into full view. a wind burst out the folds of the red flag of no quarter on the tower of the church of san fernando, but ned paid no attention to it now. he was watching for santa anna's next move. "that's a bridge that will never be built," said davy crockett. "'live an' learn' is a good sayin', i suppose, but a lot of them mexicans neither lived nor learned. it's been a great day for 'betsy' here." travis, the commander, showed elation. "i think santa anna will realize now," he said, "that he has neither a promenade nor a picnic before him. oh, if we only had six or seven hundred men, instead of less than a hundred and fifty!" "we must send for help," said bowie. "the numbers of santa anna continually increase, but we are not yet entirely surrounded. if the texans know that we are beleaguered here they will come to our help." "i will send messengers to-morrow night," said travis. "the texans are much scattered, but it is likely that some will come." it was strange, but it was characteristic of them, nevertheless, that no one made any mention of escape. many could have stolen away in the night over the lower walls. perhaps all could have done so, but not a single texan ever spoke of such a thing, and not one ever attempted it. santa anna moved some of his batteries and also erected two new ones. when the work on the latter was finished all opened in another tremendous cannonade, lasting for fully an hour. the bank of smoke was heavier than ever, and the roaring in ned's ears was incessant, but he felt no awe now. he was growing used to the cannon fire, and as it did so little harm he felt no apprehension. while the fire was at its height he went down in the church and cleaned his rifle, although he took the precaution to remain in one of the covered rooms by the doorway. davy crockett was also there busy with the same task. before they finished a cannon ball dropped on the floor, bounded against the wall and rebounded several times until it finally lay at rest. "somethin' laid a big egg then," said crockett. "it's jest as well to keep a stone roof over your head when you're under fire of a few dozen cannon. never take foolish risks, ned, for the sake of showin' off. that's the advice of an old man." crockett spoke very earnestly, and ned remembered his words. bonham called to them a few minutes later that the mexicans seemed to be meditating some movement on the lower wall around the grand plaza. "like as not you're right," said crockett. "it would be the time to try it while our attention was attracted by the big cannonade." crockett himself was detailed to meet the new movement, and he led fifty sharpshooters. ned was with him, his brain throbbing with the certainty that he was going into action once more. great quantities of smoke hung over the alamo and had penetrated every part of it. it crept into ned's throat, and it also stung his eyes. it inflamed his brain and increased his desire for combat. they reached the low wall on a run, and found that bonham was right. a large force of mexicans was approaching from that side, evidently expecting to make an opening under cover of the smoke. the assailants were already within range, and the deadly texan rifles began to crack at once from the wall. the whole front line of the mexican column was quickly burned away. the return fire of the mexicans was hasty and irregular and they soon broke and ran. "an' that's over," said crockett, as he sent a parting shot. "it was easy, an' bein' sheltered not a man of ours was hurt. but, ned, don't let the idea that we have a picnic here run away with you. we've got to watch an' watch an' fight an' fight all the time, an' every day more mexicans will come." "i understand, mr. crockett," said ned. "you know that we may never get out of here alive, and i know it, too." "you speak truth, lad," said crockett, very soberly. "but remember that it's a chance we take every day here in the southwest. an' it's pleasant to know that they're all brave men here together. you haven't seen any flinchin' on the part of anybody an' i don't think you ever will." "what are you going to do now?" asked ned. "i'm goin' to eat dinner, an' after that i'll take a nap. my advice to you is to do the same, 'cause you'll be on watch to-night." "i know i can eat," said ned, "and i'll try to sleep." he found that his appetite was all right, and after dinner he lay down in the long room of the hospital. here he heard the cannon of santa anna still thundering, but the walls softened the sound somewhat and made it seem much more distant. in a way it was soothing and ned, although sure that he could not sleep, slept. all that afternoon he was rocked into deeper slumber by the continuous roar of the mexican guns. smoke floated over the convent yard and through all the buildings, but it did not disturb him. now and then a flash of rifle fire came from the texans on the walls, but that did not disturb him, either. nature was paying its debt. the boy lying on his blankets breathed deeply and regularly as he slept. the hours of the afternoon passed one by one, and it was dark when he awoke. the fire of the cannon had now ceased and two or three lights were burning in the hospital. crockett was already up, and with some of the other men was eating beefsteak at a table. "you said you'd try to sleep, ned," he exclaimed, "an' you must have made a big try, 'cause you snored so loud we couldn't hear santa anna's cannon." "why, i'm sure i don't snore, mr. crockett," said ned, red in the face. "no, you don't snore, i'll take that back," said davy crockett, when the laugh subsided, "but i never saw a young man sleep more beautifully an' skillfully. why, the risin' an' fallin' of your chest was as reg'lar as the tickin' of a clock." ned joined them at the table. he did not mind the jests of those men, as they did not mind the jests of one another. they were now like close blood-kin. they were a band of brethren, bound together by the unbreakable tie of mortal danger. ned spent two-thirds of the night on the church wall. the mexicans let the cannon rest in the darkness, and only a few rifle shots were fired. but there were many lights in san antonio, and on the outskirts two great bonfires burned. santa anna and his generals, feeling that their prey could not escape from the trap, and caring little for the peons who had been slain, were making a festival. it is even said that santa anna on this campaign, although he left a wife in the city of mexico, exercised the privileges of an oriental ruler and married another amid great rejoicings. ned slept soundly when his watch was finished, and he awoke again the next day to the thunder of the cannonade, which continued almost without cessation throughout the day, but in the afternoon travis wrote a letter, a noble appeal to the people of texas for help. he stated that they had been under a continual bombardment for more than twenty-four hours, but not a man had yet been hurt. "i shall never surrender or retreat," he said. "then i call on you in the name of liberty, of patriotism, and of everything dear to the american character, to come to our aid with all dispatch." he closed with the three words, "victory or death," not written in any vainglory or with any melodramatic appeal, but with the full consciousness of the desperate crisis, and a quiet resolution to do as he said. the heroic letter is now in the possession of the state of texas. most of the men in the alamo knew its contents, and they approved of it. when it was fully dark travis gave it to albert martin. then he looked around for another messenger. "two should go together in case of mishap," he said. his eye fell upon ned. "if you wish to go i will send you," he said, "but i leave it to your choice. if you prefer to stay, you stay." ned's first impulse was to go. he might find obed white, will allen and the panther out there and bring them back with him, but his second impulse told him that it was only a chance, and he would abide with crockett and bowie. "i thank you for the offer, but i think, sir, that i'll stay," he said. he saw crockett give him a swift approving glance. another was quickly chosen in his stead, and ned was in the grand plaza when they dropped over the low wall and disappeared in the darkness. his comrades and he listened attentively a long time, but as they heard no sound of shots they were sure that they were now safe beyond the mexican lines. "i don't want to discourage anybody," said bowie, "but i'm not hoping much from the messengers. the texans are scattered too widely." "no, they can't bring many," said crockett, "but every man counts. sometimes it takes mighty little to turn the tale, and they may turn it." "i hope so," said bowie. the mexican cannon were silent that night and ned slept deeply, awaking only when the dawn of a clear day came. he was astonished at the quickness with which he grew used to a state of siege and imminent danger. all the habits of life now went on as usual. he ate breakfast with as good an appetite as if he had been out on the prairie with his friends, and he talked with his new comrades as if santa anna and his army were a thousand miles away. but when he did go upon the church wall he saw that santa anna had begun work again and at a new place. the mexican general, having seen that his artillery was doing no damage, was making a great effort to get within much closer range where the balls would count. men protected by heavy planking or advancing along trenches were seeking to erect a battery within less than three hundred yards of the entrance to the main plaza. they had already thrown up a part of a breastwork. meanwhile the texan sharpshooters were waiting for a chance. ned took no part in it except that of a spectator. but crockett, bowie and a dozen others were crouched on the wall with their rifles. presently an incautious mexican showed above the earthwork. it was crockett who slew him, but bowie took the next. then the other rifles flashed fast, eight or ten mexicans were slain, and the rest fled. once more the deadly texan rifles had triumphed. ned wondered why santa anna had endeavored to place the battery there in the daytime. it could be done at night, when it was impossible for the texans to aim their rifles so well. he did not know that the pride of santa anna, unable to brook delay in the face of so small a force, had pushed him forward. knowing now what might be done at night, ned passed the day in anxiety, and with the coming of the twilight his anxiety increased. chapter x crockett and bowie unluckily for the texans, the night was the darkest of the month. no bonfires burned in san antonio, and there were no sounds of music. it seemed to ned that the silence and darkness were sure indications of action on the part of the foe. he felt more lonely and depressed than at any other time hitherto in the siege, and he was glad when crockett and a young tennesseean whom he called the bee-hunter joined him. crockett had not lost any of his whimsical good humor, and when ned suggested that santa anna was likely to profit by the dark he replied: "if he is the general i take him to be he will, or at least try, but meanwhile we'll just wait, an' look, an' listen. that's the way to find out if things are goin' to happen. don't turn little troubles into big ones. you don't need a cowskin for a calf. we'll jest rest easy. i'm mighty nigh old enough to be your grandfather, ned, an' i've learned to take things as they come. i guess men of my age were talkin' this same way five thousand years ago." "you've seen a lot in your life, mr. crockett," said ned, to whom the tennesseean was a great hero. crockett laughed low, but deep in his throat, and with much pleasure. "so i have! so i have!" he replied, "an', by the blue blazes, i can say it without braggin'. i've seen a lot of water go by since i was runnin' 'roun' a bare-footed boy in tennessee. i've ranged pretty far from east to west, an' all the way from boston in the north to this old mission, an' that must be some thousands of miles. an' i've had some big times in new york, too." "you've been in new york," said ned, with quick interest. "it must be a great town." "it is. it's certainly a bulger of a place. there are thousands an' thousands of houses, an' you can't count the sails in the bay. i saw the city hall an' it's a mighty fine buildin', too. it's all marble on the side looking south, an' plain stone on the side lookin' north. i asked why, an' they said all the poor people lived to the north of it. that's the way things often happen, ned. an' i saw the great, big hotel john jacob astor was beginnin' to build on broadway just below the city hall. they said it would cost seven hundred thousand dollars, which is an all-fired lot of money, that it would cover mighty nigh a whole block, an' that there would be nothin' else in america comin' up to it." "i'd like to see that town," said ned. "maybe you will some day," said crockett, "'cause you're young. you don't know how young you look to me. i heard a lot there, ned, about that rich man, mr. astor. he got his start as a fur trader. i guess he was about the biggest fur trader that ever was. he was so active that all them animals that wore furs on their backs concluded they might as well give up. i heard one story there about an otter an' a beaver talkin'. says the otter to the beaver, when he was tellin' the beaver good-by after a visit: 'farewell, i never expect to see you again, my dear old friend.' 'don't be too much distressed,' replies the beaver, 'you an' i, old comrade, will soon meet at the hat store.'" ned and the bee-hunter laughed, and crockett delved again into his past life and his experiences in the great city, relatively as great then to the whole country as it is now. "i saw a heap of new york," he continued, "an' one of the things i liked best in it was the theaters. lad, i saw the great fanny kemble play there, an' she shorely was one of the finest women that ever walked this troubled earth. i saw her first as portia in that play of shakespeare's called, called, called----" "'the merchant of venice,'" suggested ned. "yes, that's it, 'the merchant of venice,' where she was the woman lawyer. she was fine to see, an' the way she could change her voice an' looks was clean mirac'lous. if ever i need a lawyer i want her to act for me. she had me mad, an' then she had me laughin', an' then she had the water startin' in my eyes. whatever she wanted me to see i saw, an' whatever she wanted me to think i thought. an' then, too, she was many kinds of a woman, different in turn. in fact, ned, she was just like a handsome piece of changeable silk--first one color an' then another, but always clean." he paused and the others did not interrupt him. "i don't like cities," he resumed presently. "they crowd me up too much, but i do like the theater. it makes you see so many things an' so many kinds of people that you wouldn't have time to see if you had to travel for 'em. we don't have much chance to travel right now, do we, bee-hunter?" "a few hundred yards only for our bodies," replied the young tennesseean, "but our spirits soar far; "'up with your banner, freedom, thy champions cling to thee, they'll follow where'er you lead them to death or victory. up with your banner, freedom.'" he merely hummed the words, but ned caught his spirit and he repeated to himself: "up with your banner, freedom." "i guess you've heard enough tales from an old fellow like me," said crockett. "at least you won't have time to hear any more 'cause the mexicans must be moving out there. do you hear anything, ned?" "nothing but a little wind." "then my ears must be deceivin' me. i've used 'em such a long time that i guess they feel they've got a right to trick me once in a while." but ned was thinking just then of the great city which he wanted to see some day as crockett had seen it. but it seemed to him at that moment as far away as the moon. would his comrades and he ever escape from those walls? his mind came back with a jerk. he did hear something on the plain. crockett was right. he heard the tread of horses and the sound of wheels moving. he called the attention of crockett to the noises. "i think i know what causes them," said crockett. "santa anna is planting his battery under the cover of the night an' i don't see, boys, how we're goin' to keep him from doin' it." the best of the texan sharpshooters lined the walls, and they fired occasionally at indistinct and flitting figures, but they were quite certain that they did no execution. the darkness was too great. travis, bowie and crockett considered the possibility of a sortie, but they decided that it had no chance of success. the few score texans would be overwhelmed in the open plain by the thousands of mexicans. but all the leaders were uneasy. if the mexican batteries were brought much closer, and were protected by earthworks and other fortifications, the alamo would be much less defensible. it was decided to send another messenger for help, and ned saw bonham drop over the rear wall and slip away in the darkness. he was to go to goliad, where fannin had men and four guns, and bring them in haste. when bonham was gone ned returned to his place on the wall. for hours he heard the noises without, the distant sound of voices, the heavy clank of metal against metal, and he knew full well that santa anna was planting his batteries. at last he went to his place in the long room of the hospital and slept. when dawn came he sprang up and rushed to the wall. there was the battery of santa anna only three hundred yards from the entrance to the main plaza and to the southeast, but little further away, was another. the mexicans had worked well during the night. "they're creepin' closer, ned. they're creepin' closer," said crockett, who had come to the wall before him, "but even at that range i don't think their cannon will do us much harm. duck, boy, duck! they're goin' to fire!" the two batteries opened at the same time, and the mexican masses in the rear, out of range, began a tremendous cheering. many of the balls and shells now fell inside the mission, but the texans stayed well under cover and they still escaped without harm. the mexican gunners, in their turn, kept so well protected that the texan riflemen had little chance. the great bombardment lasted an hour, but when it ceased, and the smoke lifted, ned saw a heavy mass of mexican cavalry on the eastern road. both ned and crockett took a long look at the cavalry, a fine body of men, some carrying lances and others muskets. ned believed that he recognized urrea in the figure of their leader, but the distance was too great for certainty. but when he spoke of it to crockett the tenesseean borrowed travis' field glasses. "take these," he said, "an' if it's that beloved enemy of yours you can soon tell." the boy, with the aid of the glasses, recognized urrea at once. the young leader in the uniform of a mexican captain and with a cocked and plumed hat upon his head sat his horse haughtily. ned knew that he was swelling with pride and that he, like santa anna, expected the trap to shut down on the little band of texans in a day or two. he felt some bitterness that fate should have done so much for urrea. "i judge by your face," said crockett whimsically, "that it is urrea. but remember, ned, that you can still be hated and live long." "it is indeed urrea," said ned. "now what are they gathering cavalry out there for? they can't expect to gallop over our walls." "guess they've an idea that we're goin' to try to slip out an' they're shuttin' up that road of escape. seems to me, ned, they're comin' so close that it's an insult to us." "they're almost within rifle shot." "then these bad little mexican boys must have their faces scorched as a lesson. just you wait here, ned, till i have a talk with travis an' bowie." it was obvious to ned that crockett's talk with the commander and his second was satisfactory, because when he returned his face was in a broad grin. bowie, moreover, came with him, and his blue eyes were lighted up with the fire of battle. "we're goin' to teach 'em the lesson, ned, beginnin' with a b c," said crockett, "an' jim here, who has had a lot of experience in texas, will lead us. come along, i'll watch over you." a force of seventy or eighty was formed quickly, and hidden from the view of the mexicans, they rushed down the plaza, climbed the low walls and dropped down upon the plain. the mexican cavalry outnumbered them four or five to one, but the texans cared little for such odds. "now, boys, up with your rifles!" cried bowie. "pump it into 'em!" bowie was a product of the border, hard and desperate, a man of many fierce encounters, but throughout the siege he had been singularly gentle and considerate in his dealings with his brother texans. now he was all warrior again, his eyes blazing with blue fire while he shouted vehement words of command to his men. the sudden appearance of the texan riflemen outside the alamo look urrea by surprise, but he was quick of perception and action, and his cavalrymen were the best in the mexican army. he wheeled them into line with a few words of command and shouted to them to charge. bowie's men instantly stopped, forming a rough line, and up went their rifles. urrea's soldiers who carried rifles or muskets opened a hasty and excited fire at some distance. ned heard the bullets singing over his head or saw them kicking up dust in front of the texans, but only one of the texans fell and but few were wounded. the mexican rifles or muskets were now empty, but the mexican lancers came on in good order and in an almost solid group, the yellow sunlight flashing across the long blades of their lances. it takes a great will to face sharp steel in the hands of horsemen thundering down upon you, and ned was quite willing to own afterward that every nerve in him was jumping, but he stood. all stood, and at the command of bowie their rifles flashed together in one tremendous explosion. the rifles discharged, the texans instantly snatched out their pistols, ready for anything that might come galloping through the smoke. but nothing came. when the smoke lifted they saw that the entire front of the mexican column was gone. fallen men and horses were thick on the plain and long lances lay across them. other horses, riderless, were galloping away to right and left, and unhorsed men were running to the rear. but urrea had escaped unharmed. ned saw him trying to reform his shattered force. "reload your rifles, men!" shouted bowie. "you can be ready for them before they come again!" these were skilled sharpshooters, and they rammed the loads home with startling rapidity. every rifle was loaded and a finger was on every trigger when the second charge of urrea swept down upon them. no need of a command from bowie now. the texans picked their targets and fired straight into the dense group. once more the front of the mexican column was shot away, and the lances fell clattering on the plain. "at 'em, boys, with your pistols!" shouted bowie. "don't give 'em a second chance!" the texans rushed forward, firing their pistols. ned in the smoke became separated from his comrades, and when he could see more clearly he beheld but a single horseman. the man was urrea. the two recognized each other instantly. the mexican had the advantage. he was on horseback and the smoke was in ned's eyes, not his own. with a shout of triumph, he rode straight at the boy and made a fierce sweep with his cavalry saber. it was fortunate for ned that he was agile of both body and mind. he ducked and leaped to one side. he felt the swish of the heavy steel over his head, but as he came up again he fired. urrea was protected largely by his horse's neck, and ned fired at the horse instead, although he would have greatly preferred urrea as a target. the bullet struck true and the horse fell, but the rider leaped clear and, still holding the saber, sprang at his adversary. ned snatched up his rifle, which lay on the ground at his feet, and received the slash of the sword upon its barrel. the blade broke in two, and then, clubbing his rifle, ned struck. it was fortunate for urrea, too, that he was agile of mind and body. he sprang back quickly, but the butt of the rifle grazed his head and drew blood. the next moment other combatants came between, and urrea dashed away in search of a fresh horse. ned, his blood on fire, was rushing after him, when bowie seized his arm and pulled him back. "no further, ned!" he cried. "we've scattered their cavalry and we must get back into the alamo or the whole mexican army will be upon us!" ned heard far away the beat of flying hoofs. it was made by the horses of the mexican cavalry fleeing for their lives. bowie quickly gathered together his men, and carrying with them two who had been slain in the fight they retreated rapidly to the alamo, the texan cannon firing over their heads at the advancing mexican infantry. in three or four minutes they were inside the walls again and with their comrades. the mexican cavalry did not reappear upon the eastern road, and the texans were exultant, yet they had lost two good men and their joy soon gave way to more solemn feelings. it was decided to bury the slain at once in the plaza, and a common grave was made for them. they were the first of the texans to fall in the defence, and their fate made a deep impression upon everybody. it took only a few minutes to dig the grave, and the men, laid side by side, were covered with their cloaks. while the spades were yet at work the mexican cannon opened anew upon the alamo. a ball and a bomb fell in the plaza. the shell burst, but fortunately too far away to hurt anybody. neither the bursting of the shell nor any other part of the cannonade interrupted the burial. crockett, a public man and an orator, said a few words. they were sympathetic and well chosen. he spoke of the two men as dying for texas. others, too, would fall in the defence of the alamo, but their blood would water the tree of freedom. then they threw in the dirt. while crockett was speaking the cannon still thundered without, but every word could be heard distinctly. when ned walked away he felt to the full the deep solemnity of the moment. hitherto they had fought without loss to themselves. the death of the two men now cast an ominous light over the situation. the mexican lines were being drawn closer and closer about the alamo, and he was compelled to realize the slenderness of their chances. the boy resumed his place on the wall, remaining throughout the afternoon, and watched the coming of the night. crockett joined him, and together they saw troops of mexicans marching away from the main body, some to right and some to left. "stretchin' their lines," said crockett. "santa anna means to close us in entirely after a while. now, by the blue blazes, that was a close shave!" a bullet sang by his head and flattened against the wall. he and ned dropped down just in time. other bullets thudded against the stone. nevertheless, ned lifted his head above the edge of the parapet and took a look. his eyes swept a circle and he saw little puffs of smoke coming from the roofs and windows of the jacals or mexican huts on their side of the river. he knew at once that the best of the mexican sharpshooters had hidden themselves there, and had opened fire not with muskets, but with improved rifles. he called crockett's attention to this point of danger and the frontiersman grew very serious. "we've got to get 'em out some way or other," he said. "as i said before, the cannon balls make a big fuss, but they don't come so often an' they come at random. it's the little bullets that have the sting of the wasp, an' when a man looks down the sights, draws a bead on you, an' sends one of them lead pellets at you, he gen'rally gets you. ned, we've got to drive them fellers out of there some way or other." the bullets from the jacals now swept the walls and the truth of crockett's words became painfully evident. the texan cannon fired upon the huts, but the balls went through the soft adobe and seemed to do no harm. it was like firing into a great sponge. triumphant shouts came from the mexicans. their own batteries resumed the cannonade, while their sheltered riflemen sent in the bullets faster and faster. crockett tapped the barrel of betsy significantly. "the work has got to be done with this old lady an' others like her," he said. "we must get rid of them jacals." "how?" asked ned. "you come along with me an' i'll show you," said crockett. "i'm goin' to have a talk with travis, an' if he agrees with me we'll soon wipe out that wasps' nest." crockett briefly announced his plan, which was bold in the extreme. sixty picked riflemen, twenty of whom bore torches also, would rush out at one of the side gates, storm the jacals, set fire to them, and then rush back to the alamo. travis hesitated. the plan seemed impossible of execution in face of the great mexican force. but bowie warmly seconded crockett, and at last the commander gave his consent. ned at once asked to go with the daring troop, and secured permission. the band gathered in a close body by one of the gates. the torches were long sticks lighted at the end and burning strongly. the men had already cocked their rifles, but knowing the immense risk they were about to take they were very quiet. ned was pale, and his heart beat painfully, but his hand did not shake. the texan cannon, to cover the movement, opened fire from the walls, and the riflemen, posted at various points, helped also. the mexican cannonade increased. when the thunder and crash were at their height the gate was suddenly thrown open and the sixty dashed out. fortunately the drifting smoke hid them partially, and they were almost upon the jacals before they were discovered. a great shout came from the mexicans when they saw the daring texans outside, and bullets from the jacals began to knock up grass and dust about them. but crockett himself, waving a torch, led them on, shouting: "it's only a step, boys! it's only a step! now, let 'em have it!" the texans fired as they rushed, but they took care to secure good aim. the mexicans were driven from the roofs and the windows and then the texans carrying the torches dashed inside. every house contained something inflammable, which was quickly set on fire, and two or three huts made of wood were lighted in a dozen places. the dry materials blazed up fast. a light wind fanned the flames, which joined together and leaped up, a roaring pyramid. the mexicans, who had lately occupied them, were scuttling like rabbits toward their main force, and the texan bullets made them jump higher and faster. crockett, with a shout of triumph, flung down his torch. "now, boys," he cried. "here's the end of them jacals. nothin' on earth can put out that fire, but if we don't make a foot race back to the alamo the end of us will be here, too, in a minute." the little band wheeled for its homeward rush. ned heard a great shout of rage from the mexicans, and then the hissing and singing of shells and cannon balls over his head. he saw mexicans running across the plain to cut them off, but his comrades and he had reloaded their rifles, and as they ran they sent a shower of bullets that drove back their foe. ned's heart was pumping frightfully, and myriads of black specks danced before his eyes, but he remembered afterward that he calculated how far they were from the alamo, and how far the mexicans were from them. a number of his comrades had been wounded, but nobody had fallen and they still raced in a close group for the gate, which seemed to recede as they rushed on. "a few more steps, ned," cried crockett, "an' we're in! ah, there go our friends!" the texan cannon over their heads now fired into the pursuing mexican masses, and the sharpshooters on the walls also poured in a deadly hail. the mexicans recoiled once more and then crockett's party made good the gate. "all here!" cried crockett, as those inside held up torches. he ran over the list rapidly himself and counted them all, but his face fell when he saw his young friend the bee-hunter stagger. crockett caught him in his arms and bore him into the hospital. he and ned watched by his side until he died, which was very soon. before he became unconscious he murmured some lines from an old scotch poem: "but hame came the saddle, all bluidy to see. and hame came the steed, but never hame came he." they buried him that night beside the other two, and ned was more solemn than ever when he sought his usual place in the hospital by the wall. it had been a day of victory for the texans, but the omens, nevertheless, seemed to him to be bad. the next day he saw the mexicans spreading further and further about the alamo, and they were in such strong force that the texans could not now afford to go out and attack any of these bands. a light cold rain fell, and as he was not on duty he went back to the hospital, where he sat in silence. he was deeply depressed and the thunder of the mexican cannon beat upon his ears like the voice of doom. he felt a strange annoyance at the reports of the guns. his nerves jumped, and he became angry with himself at what he considered a childish weakness. now, and for the first time, he felt despair. he borrowed a pencil and a sheet of paper torn from an old memorandum book and made his will. his possessions were singularly few, and the most valuable at hand was his fine long-barreled rifle, which he left to his faithful friend, obed white. he bequeathed his pistol and knife to the panther, and his clothes to will allen. he was compelled to smile at himself when he had finished his page of writing. was it likely that his friends would ever find this paper, or, if finding it, was it likely that any one of them could ever obtain his inheritance? but it was a relief to his feelings and, folding the paper, he put it in the inside pocket of his hunting shirt. the bombardment was renewed in the afternoon, but ned stayed in his place in the hospital. after a while davy crockett and several others joined him there. crockett as usual was jocular, and told more stories of his trips to the large eastern cities. he had just finished an anecdote of philadelphia, when he turned suddenly to ned. "boy," he said, "you and i have fought together more than once now, an' i like you. you are brave an' you've a head full of sense. when you grow older you'll be worth a lot to texas. they'll need you in the council. no, don't protest. this is the time when we can say what is in us. the mexican circle around the alamo is almost complete. isn't that so, boys?" "it is." "then i'll say what we all know. three or four days from now the chances will be a hundred to one against any of us ever gettin' out of here. an' you're the youngest of the defence, ned, so i want you to slip out to-night while there's yet time. mebbe you can get up a big lot of men to come to our help." ned looked straight at crockett, and the veteran's eyes wavered. "it's a little scheme you have," said ned, "to get me out of the way. you think because i'm the youngest i ought to go off alone at night and save my own life. well, i'm not going. i intend to stay here and fight it out with the rest of you." "i meant for the best, boy, i meant for the best," said crockett. "i'm an old fellow an' i've had a terrible lot of fun in my time. about as much, i guess, as one man is entitled to, but you've got all your life before you." "couldn't think of it," said ned lightly; "besides, i've got a password in case i'm taken by santa anna." "what's that?" asked crockett curiously. "it's the single word 'roylston.' mr. roylston told me if i were taken by santa anna to mention his name to him." "that's queer, an' then maybe it ain't," said crockett musingly. "i've heard a lot of john roylston. he's about the biggest trader in the southwest. i guess he must have some sort of a financial hold on santa anna, who is always wantin' money. ned, if the time should ever come, don't you forget to use that password." the next night was dark and chilly with gusts of rain. in the afternoon the mexican cannonade waned, and at night it ceased entirely. the alamo itself, except for a few small lights within the buildings, was kept entirely dark in order that skulking sharpshooters without might not find a target. ned was on watch near one of the lower walls about the plaza. he wrapped his useful serape closely about his body and the lower part of his face in order to protect himself from the cold and wet, and the broad brim of his sombrero was drawn down to meet it. the other texans on guard were protected in similar fashion, and in the flitting glimpses that ned caught of them they looked to him like men in disguise. the time went on very slowly. in the look backward every hour in the alamo seemed to him as ten. he walked back and forth a long time, occasionally meeting other sentinels, and exchanging a few words with them. once he glanced at their cattle, which were packed closely under a rough shed, where they lay, groaning with content. then he went back to the wall and noticed the dim figure of one of the sentinels going toward the convent yard and the church. ned took only a single glance at the man, but he rather envied him. the man was going off duty early, and he would soon be asleep in a warm place under a roof. he did not think of him again until a full hour later, when he, too, going off duty, saw a figure hidden in serape and sombrero passing along the inner edge of the plaza. the walk and figure reminded him of the man whom he had seen an hour before, and he wondered why any one who could have been asleep under shelter should have returned to the cold and rain. he decided to follow, but the figure flitted away before him down the plaza and toward the lowest part of the wall. this was doubly curious. moreover, it was ground for great suspicion. ned followed swiftly. he saw the figure mounting the wall, as if to take position there as a sentinel, and then the truth came to him in a flash. it was urrea playing the congenial role of spy. ned rushed forward, shouting. urrea turned, snatched a pistol and fired. the bullet whistled past ned's head. the next moment urrea dropped over the wall and fled away in the darkness. the other sentinels were not able to obtain a shot at him. chapter xi the desperate defence ned's report created some alarm among the defenders of the alamo, but it passed quickly. "i don't see just how it can help 'em," said crockett. "he's found out that we're few in number. they already knew that. he's learned that the alamo is made up of a church an' other buildings with walls 'roun' them. they already knew that, too, an' so here we all are, texans an' mexicans, just where we stood before." nevertheless, the bombardment rose to a fiercer pitch of intensity the next day. the mexicans seemed to have an unlimited supply of ammunition, and they rained balls and shells on the alamo. many of the shells did not burst, and the damage done was small. the texans did not reply from the shelter of their walls for a long time. at last the mexicans came closer, emboldened perhaps by the thought that resistance was crushed, and then the texan sharpshooters opened fire with their long-barreled rifles. the texans had two or three rifles apiece, and they poured in a fast and deadly fire. so many of the mexicans fell that the remainder retreated with speed, leaving the fallen behind them. but when the smoke lifted others came forward under a white flag, and the texans allowed them to take away their dead. the cannonade now became spasmodic. all the mexican cannon would fire continuously for a half hour or so, and then would ensue a silence of perhaps an hour. in the afternoon bowie was taken very ill, owing to his great exertions, and a bed was made for him in the hospital. ned sat there with him a while. the gentle mood that had distinguished the georgian throughout the siege was even more marked now. "ned," he said, "you ought to have gone out the other night when we wanted you to go. fannin may come to our help or he may not, but even if he should come i don't think his force is sufficient. it would merely increase the number of texans in the trap." "i've quite made up my mind that i won't go," said ned. "i'm sorry," said bowie. "as for me, it's different. i'm a man of violence, ned. i don't deny it. there's human blood on my hands, and some of it is that of my own countrymen. i've done things that i'd like to call back, and so i'm glad to be here, one of a forlorn hope, fighting for texas. it's a sort of atonement, and if i fall i think it will be remembered in my favor." ned was singularly impressed. crockett had talked in much the same way. could these men, heroes of a thousand dangers, have really given up? not to give up in the sense of surrender, but to expect death fighting? but for himself he could not believe such a thing possible. youth was too strong in him. he was on the watch again for part of the next night, and he and crockett were together. they heard sounds made by the besiegers on every side of them. mexicans were calling to mexicans. bridle bits rattled, and metal clanked against metal. "i suppose the circle is complete," said ned. "looks like it," said crockett, "but we've got our cattle to eat an' water to drink an' only a direct attack in force can take us. they can bang away with their cannon till next christmas an' they won't shake our grip on the alamo." the night was fairly dark, and an hour later ned heard a whistle. crockett heard it, too, and stiffened instantly into attention. "did that sound to you like a mexican whistling?" he asked. "no, i'd say it came from american lips, and i'd take it also for a signal." "an' so it is. it's just such a whistle as hunters use when they want to talk to one another without words. i've whistled to my pardners that way in the woods hundreds of times. i think, ned, that some texans are at hand waitin' a chance to slip in." crockett emitted a whistle, low but clear and penetrating, almost like the song of a night bird, and in a half minute came the rejoinder. he replied to it briefly, and then they waited. others had gathered at the low plaza wall with them. hidden to the eyes, they peered over the parapet. they heard soft footsteps in the darkness, and then dim forms emerged. despite the darkness they knew them to be texans, and crockett spoke low: "here we are, boys, waitin' for you! this way an' in a half minute you're in the alamo!" the men ran forward, scaled the wall and were quickly inside. they were only thirty-two. ned had thought that the panther, obed, and will allen might be among them, but they were not there. the new men were shaking hands with the others and were explaining that they had come from gonzales with captain smith at their head. they were all well armed, carried much ammunition, and were sure that other parties would arrive from different points. the thirty-two were full of rejoicings over their successful entry, but they were worn, nevertheless, and they were taken into one of the buildings, where food and water were set before them. ned stood by, an eager auditor, as they told of their adventures. "we had a hard time to get in here to you," said captain smith, "and from the looks of things i reckon we'll have as hard a time to get out. there must be a million mexicans around the alamo. we tried to get up a bigger force, but we couldn't gather any more without waiting, and we thought if you needed us at all you needed us in a hurry." "reckon you're right about the need of bein' in a hurry," said crockett. "when you want help you want it right then an' there." "so you do," said smith, as he took a fresh piece or steak, "and we had it in mind all the time. the wind was blowing our way, and in the afternoon we heard the roaring of cannon a long distance off. then as we came closer we heard mexicans buzzing all around the main swarm, scouts and skirmishers everywhere. "we hid in an arroyo and waited until dark. then we rode closer and found that there would never be any chance to get into the alamo on horseback. we took the saddles and bridles off our horses, and turned them loose on the prairie. then we undertook to get in here, but it was touch and go. i tell you it was touch and go. we wheeled and twisted and curved and doubled, until our heads got dizzy. wherever we went we found mexicans, thousands of 'em." "we've noticed a few ourselves," said crockett. "it was pretty late when we struck an opening, and then not being sure we whistled. when we heard you whistle back we made straight for the wall, and here we are." "we're mighty glad to see you," said crockett, "but we ain't welcomin' you to no picnic, i reckon you understand that, don't you, jim smith?" "we understand it, every one of us," replied smith gravely. "we heard before we started, and now we've seen. we know that santa anna himself is out there, and that the mexicans have got a big army. that's the reason we came, davy crockett, because the odds are so heavy against you." "you're a true man," said crockett, "and so is every one of these with you." the new force was small--merely a few more for the trap--but they brought with them encouragement. ned shared in the general mental uplift. these new faces were very welcome, indeed. they gave fresh vigor to the little garrison, and they brought news of that outside world from which he seemed to have been shut off so long. they told of numerous parties sure to come to their relief, but he soon noticed that they did not particularize. he felt with certainty that the alamo now had all the defenders that it would ever have. repeated examinations from the walls of the church confirmed ned in his belief. the mexican circle was complete, and their sheltered batteries were so near that they dropped balls and shells whenever they pleased inside the alamo. duels between the cannon and the texan sharpshooters were frequent. the gunners as they worked their guns were forced to show themselves at times, and every exposure was instantly the signal for a texan bullet which rarely missed. but the mexicans kept on. it seemed that they intended to wear out the defenders by the sheer persistency of their cannon fire. ned became so hardened to the bombardment that he paid little attention to it. even when a ball fell inside the alamo the chances were several hundred to one that it would not hit him. he had amused himself with a mathematical calculation of the amount of space he occupied compared with the amount of space in the alamo. thus he arrived at the result, which indicated comparatively little risk for himself. the shrewdest calculations are often wrong. as he passed through the convent yard he met crockett, and the two walked on together. but before they had gone half a dozen steps a bomb hissed through the air, fell and rolled to their feet. it was still hissing and smoking, but ned, driven by some unknown impulse, seized it and with a mighty effort hurled it over the wall, where it burst. then he stood licking his burned fingers and looking rather confusedly at crockett. he felt a certain shyness over what he had done. the veteran frontiersman had already formed a great affection for the boy. he knew that ned's impulse had come from a brave heart and a quick mind, and that he had probably saved both their lives. he took a great resolution that this boy, the youngest of all the defenders, should be saved. "that was done well, ned," he said quietly. "i'm glad, boy, that i've known you. i'd be proud if you were a son of mine. we can talk plainly here with death all around us. you've got a lot in that head of yours. you ought to make a great man, a great man for texas. won't you do what i say and slip out of the alamo while there's still a chance?" ned was much moved, but he kept his resolution as he had kept it before. he shook his head. "you are all very good to me here," he said. "mr. bowie, too, has asked me to go, but if i should do so and the rest of you were to fall i'd be ashamed of myself all the rest of my life. i'm a texan now, and i'm going to see it through with the rest of you." "all right," said crockett lightly. "i've heard that you can lead a horse to the water, but you can't make him drink, an' if a boy don't want to go you can't make him go. so we'll just go into this little improvised armory of ours, an' you an' i will put in our time moldin' bullets." they entered one of the adobe buildings. a fire had been built on the hearth, and a half dozen texans were already busy there. but they quickly made room for crockett and ned. crockett did not tell ned that their supplies of powder and lead were running low, and that they must reduce their fire from the walls in order that they might have sufficient to meet an attack in force. but it was a cheerful little party that occupied itself with molding bullets. ned put a bar of lead into a ladle, and held it over the fire until the bar became molten. then he poured it into the mold until it was full, closed it, and when he opened it again a shining bullet dropped out. he worked hour after hour. his face became flushed with the heat, but with pride he watched his heap of bullets grow. crockett at last said they had done enough for one day, and ned was glad when they went outside and breathed the fresh air again. there was no firing at that time, and they climbed once more upon the church wall. ned looked out upon the scene, every detail of which was so familiar to him now. but conspicuous, and seeming to dominate all, was the blood-red flag of no quarter floating from the tower of the church of san fernando. wind and rain had not dimmed its bright color. the menace in its most vivid hue was always there. travis, who was further along the wall with a pair of strong field glasses, came back and joined ned and crockett. "if you would like to see santa anna you can," he said to ned. "he is on the church of san fernando now with his generals looking at us. take these glasses and your gaze may meet his." ned took the glasses, and there was santa anna standing directly under the folds of the banner with his own glasses to his eyes, studying the alamo and its defenders. about him stood a half dozen generals. ned's heart swelled with anger. the charm and genius of santa anna made him all the more repellent now. ned knew that he would break any promise if it suited him, and that cunning and treachery were his most potent tools. santa anna, at that very moment, was discussing with sesma, cos, gaona and others the question of an immediate assault with his whole army upon the alamo. they had heard rumors of an advance by fannin with help for the texans, but, while some of the younger spirits wished prompt attack, santa anna decided on delay. the dictator doubted whether fannin would come up, and if he did he would merely put so many more rats in the trap. santa anna felt secure in his vast preponderance of numbers. he would take the texans in his own good time, that is, whenever he felt like it. he did not care to hurry, because he was enjoying himself greatly in san antonio. capable of tremendous energy at times, he gave himself up at other times to babylonian revels. ned handed the glasses to crockett, who also took a long look. "i've heard a lot of santa anna," he said, "an' maybe i'll yet meet him eye to eye." "it's possible," said travis, "but, davy, we've got to wait on the mexicans. it's always for them to make the move, and then we'll meet it if we can. i wish we could hear from bonham. i'm afraid he's been taken." "not likely," said crockett. "one man, all alone, an' as quick of eye an' foot as bonham, would be pretty sure to make his way safely." "i certainly hope so," said travis. "at any rate, i intend to send out another letter soon. if the texans are made to realize our situation they will surely come, no matter how far away they may be." "i hope they will," said crockett. but ned noticed that he did not seem to speak with any great amount of confidence. balancing everything as well as he could, he did not see how much help could be expected. the texan towns were tiny. the whole fringe of texan settlements was small. the texans were but fifty or sixty thousands against the seven or eight millions of mexico, and now that they knew a great mexican army was in texas the scattered borderers would be hard put to it to defend themselves. he did not believe that in any event they could gather a force great enough to cut its way through the coil of santa anna's multitude. but travis' faith in bonham, at least, was justified. the next night, about halfway between midnight and morning, in the darkest hour, a man scaled the wall and dropped inside the plaza. it proved to be bonham himself, pale, worn, covered with mud and dust, but bringing glad tidings. ned was present when he came into the church and was met by travis. bowie, crockett and smith. only a single torch lighted up the grim little group. "fannin has left goliad with men and four cannon to join us," bonham said. "he started five days ago, and he should be here soon. with his rifles and big guns he'll be able to cut his way through the mexicans and enter the alamo." "i think so, too," said travis, with enthusiasm. but ned steadily watched bowie and crockett. they were the men of experience, and in matters such as these they had minds of uncommon penetration. he noticed that neither of them said anything, and that they showed no elation. everybody in the alamo knew the next day that bonham had come from fannin, and the whole place was filled with new hope. as ned reckoned, it was about one hundred and fifty miles from san antonio de bexar to goliad; but, according to bonham, fannin had already been five days on the way, and they should hear soon the welcome thunder of his guns. he eagerly scanned the southeast, in which direction lay goliad, but the only human beings he saw were mexicans. no sound came to his ears but the note of a mexican trumpet or the crack of a vaquero's whip. he was not the only one who looked and listened. they watched that day and the next through all the bombardment and the more dangerous rifle fire. but they never saw on the horizon the welcome flash from any of fannin's guns. no sound that was made by a friend reached their ears. the only flashes of fire they saw outside were those that came from the mouths of mexican cannon, and the only sounds they heard beyond the alamo were made by the foe. the sun, huge, red and vivid, sank in the prairie and, as the shadows thickened over the alamo, ned was sure in his heart that fannin would never come. * * * * * a few days before the defenders of the alamo had begun to scan the southeast for help a body of men were marching toward san antonio de bexar. they were clad in buckskin and they were on horseback. their faces were tanned and bore all the signs of hardship. near the middle of the column four cannon drawn by oxen rumbled along, and behind them came a heavy wagon loaded with ammunition. it was raining, and the rain was the raw cold rain of early spring in the southwest. the men, protecting themselves as well as they could with cloaks and serapes, rarely spoke. the wheels of the cannon cut great ruts in the prairie, and the feet of the horses sank deep in the mud. two men and a boy rode near the head of the column. one of these would have attracted attention anywhere by his gigantic size. he was dressed completely in buckskin, save for the raccoon skin cap that crowned his thick black hair. the rider on his right hand was long and thin with the calm countenance of a philosopher, and the one on his left was an eager and impatient boy. "i wish this rain would stop," said the panther, his ensanguined eye expressing impatience and anger. "i don't mind gettin' cold an' i don't mind gettin' wet, but there is nothin' stickier or harder to plough through than the texas mud. an' every minute counts. them boys in that alamo can't fight off thousands of mexicans forever. look at them steers! did you ever see anything go as slow as they do?" "i'd like to see ned again," said will allen. "i'd be willing to take my chance with him there." "that boy of ours is surely with crockett and bowie and travis and the others, helping to fight off santa anna and his horde," said obed white. "bonham couldn't have made any mistake about him. if we had seen bonham himself we could have gone with him to the alamo." "but he gave ned's name to colonel fannin," said will, "and so it's sure to be he." "our comrade is certainly there," said obed white, "and we've got to help rescue him as well as help rescue the others. it's hard not to hurry on by ourselves, but we can be of most help by trying to push on this force, although it seems as if everything had conspired against us." "it shorely looks as if things was tryin' to keep us back," exclaimed the panther angrily. "we've had such a hard time gettin' these men together, an' look at this rain an' this mud! we ought to be at bexar right now, a-roarin', an' a-t'arin', an' a-rippin', an' a-chawin' among them mexicans!" "patience! patience!" said obed white soothingly. "sometimes the more haste the oftener you trip." "patience on our part ain't much good to men sixty or eighty miles away, who need us yelling' an' shootin' for them this very minute." "i'm bound to own that what you say is so," said obed white. they relapsed into silence. the pace of the column grew slower. the men were compelled to adapt themselves to the cannon and ammunition wagon, which were now almost mired. the face of the panther grew black as thunder with impatience and anger, but he forced himself into silence. they stopped a little while at noon and scanty rations were doled out. they had started in such haste that they had only a little rice and dried beef, and there was no time to hunt game. they started again in a half hour, creeping along through the mud, and the panther was not the only man who uttered hot words of impatience under his breath. they were nearing the san antonio river now, and fannin began to show anxiety about the fort. but the panther was watching the ammunition wagon, which was sinking deeper and deeper into the mire. it seemed to him that it was groaning and creaking too much even for the deep mud through which it was passing. the driver of the ammunition wagon cracked his long whip over the oxen and they tugged at the yoke. the wheels were now down to the hub, and the wagon ceased to move. the driver cracked his whip again and again, and the oxen threw their full weight into the effort. the wheels slowly rose from their sticky bed, but then something cracked with a report like a pistol shot. the panther groaned aloud, because he knew what had happened. the axle of the wagon had broken, and it was useless. they distributed the ammunition, including the cannon balls, which they put in sacks, as well as they could, among the horsemen, and went on. they did not complain, but every one knew that it was a heavy blow. in two more hours they came to the banks of the muddy san antonio, and stared in dismay at the swollen current. it was evident at once to everybody that the passage would be most difficult for the cannon, which, like the ammunition wagon, were drawn by oxen. the river was running deep, with muddy banks, and a muddy bottom, and, taking the lightest of the guns, they tried first to get it across. many of the men waded neck deep into the water and strove at the wheels. but the stream went completely over the cannon, which also sank deeper and deeper in the oozy bottom. it then became an effort to save the gun. the panther put all his strength at the wheel, and, a dozen others helping, they at last got it back to the bank from which they had started. fannin, not a man of great decision, looked deeply discouraged, but the panther and others urged him on to new attempts. the panther, himself, as he talked, bore the aspect of a huge river god. yellow water streamed from his hair, beard, and clothing, and formed a little pool about him. but he noticed it not at all, urging the men on with all the fiery energy which a dauntless mind had stored in a frame so great and capable. "if it can be done the panther will get the guns across," said will to obed. "that's so," said obed, "but who'd have thought of this? when we started out we expected to have our big fight with an army and not with a river." they took the cannon into the water a second time, but the result was the same. they could not get it across, and with infinite exertion they dragged it back to the bank. then they looked at one another in despair. they could ford the river, but it seemed madness to go on without the cannon. while they debated there, a messenger came with news that the investment of the alamo by santa anna was now complete. he gave what rumor said, and rumor told that the mexican army numbered ten or twelve thousand men with fifty or sixty guns. santa anna's force was so great that already he was sending off large bodies to the eastward to attack texan detachments wherever they could be found. fannin held an anxious council with his officers. it was an open talk on the open prairie, and anybody who chose could listen. will allen and obed white said nothing, but the panther was vehement. "we've got to get there!" he exclaimed. "we can't leave our people to die in the alamo! we've got to cut our way through, an', if the worst comes to the worst, die with them!" "that would benefit nobody," said fannin. "we've made every human effort to get our cannon across the river, and we have failed. it would not profit texas for us to ride on with our rifles merely to be slaughtered. there will be other battles and other sieges, and we shall be needed." "does that mean we're not goin' on?" asked the panther. "we can't go on." fannin waved his hand at the yellow and swollen river. "we must return to goliad," he said, "i have decided. besides, there is nothing else for us to do. about face, men, and take up the march." the men turned slowly and reluctantly, and the cannon began to plough the mud on the road to goliad, from which they had come. the panther had remounted, and he drew to one side with will and obed, who were also on their horses. his face was glowing with anger. never had he looked more tremendous as he sat on his horse, with the water still flowing from him. "colonel fannin," he called out, "you can go back to goliad, but as for me an' my pardners, obed white an' will allen, we're goin' to bexar, an' the alamo." "i have no control over you," said fannin, "but it would be much better for you three to keep with us." "no," said the panther firmly. "we hear the alamo callin'. into the river, boys, but keep your weapons an' ammunition dry." their horses, urged into the water, swam to the other bank, and, without looking back the three rode for san antonio de bexar. * * * * * while the panther, obed white and will allen were riding over the prairie, ned fulton sat once more with his friend. davy crockett, in one of the adobe buildings. night had come, and they heard outside the fitful crackle of rifle fire, but they paid no attention to it. travis, at a table with a small tallow candle at his elbow, was writing his last message. ned was watching the commander as he wrote. but he saw no expression of despair or even discouragement on travis' fine face. the letter, which a messenger succeeded in carrying through the lines that night, breathed a noble and lofty courage. he was telling again how few were his men, and how the balls and bombs had rained almost continuously for days upon the alamo. even as his pen was poised they heard the heavy thud of a cannon, but the pen descended steadily and he wrote: "i shall continue to hold it until i get relief from my countrymen, or perish in its defence." he wrote on a little longer and once more came the heavy thud of a great gun. then the pen wrote: "again i feel confident that the determined spirit and desperate courage heretofore exhibited by my men will not fail them in the last struggle, and, although they may be sacrificed to the vengeance of a gothic enemy, the victory will cost that enemy so dear that it will be worse than a defeat." "worse than a defeat!" travis never knew how significant were the words that he penned then. a minute or two later the sharp crack of a half dozen rifles came to them, and travis wrote: "a blood-red flag waves from the church of bexar and in the camp above us, in token that the war is one of vengeance against rebels." they heard the third heavy thud of a cannon, and a shell, falling in the court outside, burst with a great crash. ned went out and returned with a report of no damage. travis had continued his letter, and now he wrote: "these threats have no influence upon my men, but to make all fight with desperation, and with that high-souled courage which characterizes the patriot who is willing to die in defence of his country, liberty and his own honor, god and texas. "victory or death." he closed the letter and addressed it. an hour later the messenger was beyond the mexican lines with it, but travis sat for a long time at the table, unmoving and silent. perhaps he was blaming himself for not having been more watchful, for not having discovered the advance of santa anna. but he was neither a soldier nor a frontiersman, and since the retreat into the alamo he had done all that man could do. he rose at last and went out. then crockett said to ned, knowing that it was now time to speak the full truth: "he has given up all hope of help." "so have i," said ned. "but we can still fight," said crockett. the day that followed was always like a dream to ned, vivid in some ways, and vague in others. he felt that the coil around the alamo had tightened. neither he nor any one else expected aid now, and they spoke of it freely one to another. several who could obtain paper wrote, as ned had done, brief wills, which they put in the inside pockets of their coats. always they spoke very gently to one another, these wild spirits of the border. the strange and softening shadow which ned had noticed before was deepening over them all. bowie was again in the hospital, having been bruised severely in a fall from one of the walls, but his spirit was as dauntless as ever. "the assault by the mexicans in full force cannot be delayed much longer," he said to ned. "santa anna is impatient and energetic, and he surely has brought up all his forces by this time." "do you think we can beat them off?" asked ned. bowie hesitated a little, and then he replied frankly: "i do not. we have only one hundred and seventy or eighty men to guard the great space that we have here. but in falling we will light such a flame that it will never go out until texas is free." ned talked with him a little longer, and always bowie spoke as if the time were at hand when he should die for texas. the man of wild and desperate life seemed at this moment to be clothed about with the mantle of the seer. the mexican batteries fired very little that day, and santa anna's soldiers kept well out of range. they had learned a deep and lasting respect for the texan rifles. hundreds had fallen already before them, and now they kept under cover. the silence seemed ominous and brooding to ned. the day was bright, and the flag of no quarter burned a spot of blood-red against the blue sky. ned saw mexican officers occasionally on the roofs of the higher buildings, but he took little notice of them. he felt instinctively that the supreme crisis had not yet come. they were all waiting, waiting. the afternoon drew its slow length away in almost dead silence, and the night came on rather blacker than usual. then the word was passed for all to assemble in the courtyard. they gathered there, bowie dragging his sick body with the rest. every defender of the alamo was present. the cannon and the walls were for a moment deserted, but the mexicans without did not know it. there are ineffaceable scenes in the life of every one, scenes which, after the lapse of many years, are as vivid as of yesterday. such, the last meeting of the texans, always remained in the mind of ned. they stood in a group, strong, wiry men, but worn now by the eternal vigilance and danger of the siege. one man held a small torch, which cast but a dim light over the brown faces. travis stood before them and spoke to them. "men," he said, "all of you know what i know, that we stand alone. no help is coming for us. the texans cannot send it or it would have come. for ten days we have beaten off every attack of a large army. but another assault in much greater force is at hand. it is not likely that we can repel it. you have seen the red flag of no quarter flying day after day over the church, and you know what it means. santa anna never gives mercy. it is likely that we shall all fall, but, if any man wishes to go, i, your leader, do not order him to stay. you have all done your duty ten times over. there is just a chance to escape over the walls and in the darkness. now go and save your lives if you can." "we stay," came the deep rumble of many voices together. one man slipped quietly away a little later, but he was the only one. save for him, there was no thought of flight in the minds of that heroic band. ned's heart thrilled and the blood pounded in his ears. life was precious, doubly so, because he was so young, but he felt a strange exaltation in the face of death, an exaltation that left no room for fear. the eyes of travis glistened when he heard the reply. "it is what i expected," he said. "i knew that every one of you was willing to die for texas. now, lads, we will go back to the walls and wait for santa anna." chapter xii before the dictator ned's feeling of exaltation lasted. the long siege, the incessant danger and excitement, and the wonderful way in which the little band of texans had kept a whole army at bay had keyed him up to a pitch in which he was not himself, in which he was something a little more than human. such extraordinary moments come to few people, and his vivid, imaginative mind was thrilled to the utmost. he was on the early watch, and he mounted the wall of the church. the deep silence which marked the beginning of the night still prevailed. they had not heard any shots, and for that reason they all felt that the messenger had got through with travis' last letter. it was very dark that night and ned could not see the red flag on the tower of the church of san fernando. but he knew it was there, waving a little in the soft wind which blew out of the southwest, herald of spring. nothing broke the silence. after so much noise, it was ominous, oppressive, surcharged with threats. fewer lights than usual burned in the town and in the mexican camp. all this stillness portended to ned the coming storm, and he was right. his was a short watch, and at o'clock he went off duty. it was silent and dark in the convent yard, and he sought his usual place for sleep in the hospital, where many of the texans had been compelled to go, not merely to sleep, but because they were really ill, worn out by so many alarms, so much fighting and so much watching. but they were all now asleep, overpowered by exhaustion. ned crept into his own dark little corner, and he, too, was soon asleep. but he was awakened about four hours later by some one pulling hard at his shoulder. he opened his eyes, and stared sleepily. it was crockett bending over him, and, bowie lying on his sick bed ten feet away, had raised himself on his elbow. the light was so faint that ned could scarcely see crockett's face, but it looked very tense and eager. "get up, ned! get up!" said crockett, shaking him again. "there's great work for you to do!" "why, what is it?" exclaimed the boy, springing to his feet. "it's your friends, roylston, an' that man, the panther, you've been tellin' me about," replied crockett in quick tones. "while you were asleep a mexican, friendly to us, sneaked a message over the wall, sayin' that roylston, the panther, an' others were layin' to the east with a big force not more'n twenty miles away--not fannin's crowd, but another one that's come down from the north. they don't know whether we're holdin' out yet or not, an' o' course they don't want to risk destruction by tryin' to cut through the mexican army to reach us when we ain't here. the mexican dassent go out of san antonio. he won't try it, 'cause, as he says, it's sure death for him, an' so somebody must go to roylston with the news that we're still alive, fightin' an' kickin'. colonel travis has chose you, an' you've got to go. no, there's no letter. you're just to tell roylston by word of mouth to come on with his men." the words came forth popping like pistol shots. ned was swept off his feet. he did not have time to argue or ask questions. bowie also added a fresh impetus. "go, ned, go at once!" he said. "you are chosen for a great service. it's an honor to anybody!" "a service of great danger, requirin' great skill," said crockett, "but you can do it, ned, you can do it." ned flushed. this was, in truth, a great trust. he might, indeed, bring the help they needed so sorely. "here's your rifle an' other weapons an' ammunition," said crockett. "the night's at its darkest an' you ain't got any time to waste. come on!" so swift was crockett that ned was ready almost before he knew it. the tennesseean never ceased hurrying him. but as he started, bowie called to him: "good-by, ned!" the boy turned back and offered his hand. the georgian shook it with unusual warmth, and then lay back calmly on his blankets. "good-by, ned," he repeated, "and if we don't meet again i hope you'll forget the dark things in my life, and remember me as one who was doing his best for texas." "but we will meet again," said ned. "the relieving force will be here in two or three days and i'll come with it." "out with you!" said crockett. "that's talk enough. what you want to do now is to put on your invisible cap an' your seven league boots an' go like lightnin' through the mexican camp. remember that you can talk their lingo like a native, an' don't forget, neither, to keep always about you a great big piece of presence of mind that you can use on a moment's notice." ned wore his serape and he carried a pair of small, light but very warm blankets, strapped in a pack on his back. his haversack contained bread and dried beef, and, with his smaller weapons in his belt, and his rifle over his shoulder, he was equipped fully for a long and dangerous journey. crockett and the boy passed into the convent yard. the soft wind from the southwest blew upon their faces, and from the high wall of the church a sentinel called: "all's well!" ned felt an extraordinary shiver, a premonition, but it passed, unexplained. he and crockett went into the main plaza and reached the lowest part of the wall. "ought i to see colonel travis?" asked ned, as they were on the way. "no, he asked me to see to it, 'cause there ain't no time to waste. it's about three o'clock in the mornin' now, an' you've got to slip through in two or three hours, 'cause the light will be showin' then. now, ned, up with you an' over." ned climbed to the summit of the wall. beyond lay heavy darkness, and he neither saw nor heard any human being. he looked back, and extended his hand to crockett as he had to bowie. "good-by, mr. crockett," he said, "you've been very good to me." the great brown hand of the frontiersman clasped his almost convulsively. "aye, ned," he said, "we've cottoned to each other from the first. i haven't knowed you long, but you've been like a son to me. now go, an' god speed you!" ned recalled afterward that he did not say anything about roylston's relieving force. what he thought of then was the deep feeling in crockett's words. "i'm coming back," he said, "and i hope to hunt buffalo with you over the plains of a free texas." "go! go! hurry, ned!" said crockett. "good-by," said ned, and he dropped lightly to the ground. he was outside the alamo after eleven days inside, that seemed in the retrospect almost as many months. he flattened himself against the wall, and stood there for a minute or two, looking and listening. he thought he might hear crockett again inside, but evidently the tennesseean had gone back at once. in front of him was only the darkness, pierced by a single light off toward the west. ned hesitated. it was hard for him to leave the alamo and the friends who had been knitted to him by so many common dangers, yet his errand was one of high importance--it might save them all--and he must do it. strengthening his resolution he started across an open space, walking lightly. as crockett had truly said, with his perfect knowledge of the language he might pass for a mexican. he had done so before, and he did not doubt his ability to do so again. he resolved to assume the character of a mexican scout, looking into the secrets of the alamo, and going back to report to santa anna. as he advanced he heard voices and saw earthworks from which the muzzles of four cannon protruded. behind the earthwork was a small fire, and he knew that men would be sitting about it. he turned aside, not wishing to come too much into the light, but a soldier near the earthwork hailed him, and ned, according to his plan, replied briefly that he was on his way to general santa anna in san antonio. but the man was talkative. "what is your name?" he asked. "pedro miguel alvarado," replied ned on the spur of the moment. "well, friend, it is a noble name, that of alvarado." "but it is not a noble who bears it. though a descendant of the great alvarado, who fought by the side of the glorious and mighty conquistador, hernando cortez, i am but a poor peasant offering my life daily for bread in the army of general santa anna." the man laughed. "you are as well off as i am," he said. "but what of the wicked texans? are they yet ready to surrender their throats to our knives? the dogs hold us over long. it is said that they number scarce two hundred within the mission. truly they fight hard, and well they may, knowing that death only is at the end." ned shuddered. the man seemed to take it all so lightly. but he replied in a firm voice: "i learned little of them save that they still fight. i took care not to put myself before the muzzle of any of their rifles." the mexican laughed again. "a lad of wisdom, you," he said. "they are demons with their rifles. when the great assault is made, many a good man will speed to his long home before the alamo is taken." so, they had already decided upon the assault. the premonition within the alamo was not wrong. it occurred to ned that he might learn more, and he paused. "has it been finally settled?" he asked. "we attack about three days from now, do we not?" "earlier than that," replied the mexican. "i know that the time has been chosen, and i think it is to-morrow morning." ned's heart beat heavily. to-morrow morning! even if he got through, how could he ever bring roylston and the relief force in time? "i thank you," he said, "but i must hurry with my report." "adios, señor," said the man politely, and ned repeated his "adios" in the same tone. then he hurried forward, continually turning in toward the east, hoping to find a passage where the mexican line was thinnest. but the circle of the invaders was complete, and he saw that he must rely upon his impersonation of a mexican to take him through. he was in a fever of haste, knowing now that the great assault was to come so soon, and he made for a point between two smoldering camp fires fifty or sixty yards apart. boldness only would now avail, and with the brim of his sombrero pulled well down over his face he walked confidently forward, coming fully within the light of the fire on his left. a number of mexican soldiers were asleep around the fire, but at least a half dozen men were awake. they called to ned as he passed and he responded readily, but fortune, which had been so kind to him for a long time, all at once turned her back upon him. when he spoke, a man in officer's uniform who had been sitting by the fire rose quickly. "your name?" he cried. "pedro miguel alvarado," replied ned instantly. at the same moment he recognized urrea. "it is not so!" cried urrea. "you are one of the texans, young fulton. i know your voice. upon him, men! seize him!" his action and the leap of the mexicans were so sudden that ned did not have time to aim his rifle. but he struck one a short-arm blow with the butt of it that sent him down with a broken head, and he snatched at his pistol as three or four others threw themselves upon him. ned was uncommonly strong and agile, and he threw off two of the men, but the others pressed him to the ground, until, at urrea's command, his arms were bound and he was allowed to rise. ned was in despair, not so much for himself but because there was no longer a chance that he could get through to roylston. it was a deep mortification, moreover, to be taken by urrea. but he faced the mexican with an appearance of calmness. "well," he said, "i am your prisoner." "you are," said urrea, "and you might have passed, if i had not known your voice. but i remind you that you come from the alamo. you see our flag, and you know its meaning." the black eyes of the mexican regarded ned malignantly. the boy knew that the soul of urrea was full of wicked triumph. the officer could shoot him down at that moment, and be entirely within orders. but ned recalled the words of roylston. the merchant had told him to use his name if he should ever fall again into the hands of santa anna. "i am your prisoner," he repeated, "and i demand to be taken before general santa anna. whatever your red flag may mean, there are reasons why he will spare me. go with me and you will see." he spoke with such boldness and directness that urrea was impressed. "i shall take you to the general," he said, "not because you demand it, but because i think it well to do so. it is likely that he will want to examine you, and i believe that in his presence you will tell all you know. but it is not yet o'clock in the morning, and i cannot awaken him now. you will stay here until after daylight." "very well," said ned, trying to be calm as possible. "as you have bound me i cannot walk, but if you'll put me on a blanket there by the fire i'll sleep until you want me." "we won't deny you that comfort," replied urrea grimly. when ned was stretched on his blanket he was fairly easy so far as the body was concerned. they had bound him securely, but not painfully. his agony of mind, though, was great. nevertheless he fell asleep, and slept in a restless way for three or four hours, until urrea awoke him, and told him they were going to santa anna. it was a clear, crisp dawn and ned saw the town, the river, and the alamo. there, only a short distance away, stood the dark fortress, from which he had slipped but a few hours before with such high hopes. he even saw the figures of the sentinels, moving slowly on the church walls, and his heart grew heavy within him. he wished now that he was back with the defenders. even if he should escape it would be too late. at urrea's orders he was unbound. "there is no danger of your escaping now," said the young mexican. "several of my men are excellent marksmen, and they will fire at the first step you take in flight. and even should they miss, what chance do you think you have here?" he swept his right hand in a circle, and, in the clear morning air, ned saw batteries and troops everywhere. he knew that the circle of steel about the alamo was complete. perhaps he would have failed in his errand even had he got by. it would require an unusually strong force to cut through an army as large as that of santa anna, and he did not know where roylston could have found it. he started, as a sudden suspicion smote him. he remembered crockett's hurried manner, and his lack of explanation. but he put it aside. it could not be true. "i see that you look at the alamo," said urrea ironically. "well, the rebel flag is still there, but it will not remain much longer. the trap is about ready to shut down." ned's color rose. "it may be so," he said, "but for every texan who falls the price will be five mexicans." "but they will fall, nevertheless," said urrea. "here is food for you. eat, and i will take you to the general." they offered him mexican food, but he had no appetite, and he ate little. he stretched and tensed his limbs in order to restore the full flood of circulation, and announced that he was ready. urrea led the way, and ned followed with a guard of four men about him. the boy had eyes and ears for everything around him, but he looked most toward the alamo. he could not, at the distance, recognize the figures on the wall, but all those men were his friends, and his eyes filled with tears at their desperate case. out here with the mexicans, where he could see all their overwhelming force and their extensive preparations, the chances of the texans looked worse than they did inside the alamo. they entered the town and passed through the same streets, along which ned had advanced with the conquering army of the texans a few months before. many evidences of the siege remained. there were tunnels, wrecked houses and masses of stone and adobe. the appearance of the young prisoner aroused the greatest curiosity among both soldiers and people. he heard often the word "texano." women frequently looked down at him from the flat roofs, and some spoke in pity. ned was silent. he was resolved not to ask urrea any questions or to give him a chance to show triumph. he noticed that they were advancing toward the plaza, and then they turned into the veramendi house, which he had cause to remember so well. "this was the home of the vice-governor," said urrea, "and general santa anna is here." "i know the place," said ned. "i am proud to have been one of the texans who took it on a former occasion." "we lost it then, but we have it now and we'll keep it," said urrea. "my men will wait with you here in the courtyard, and i'll see if our illustrious general is ready to receive you." ned waited patiently. urrea was gone a full half hour, and, when he returned, he said: "the general was at breakfast with his staff. he had not quite finished, but he is ready to receive you now." then urrea led the way into the veramendi house. luxurious fittings had been put in, but many of the rents and scars from the old combat were yet visible. they entered the great dining room, and, once more, ned stood face to face with the most glorious general, the most illustrious dictator, don antonio lopez de santa anna. but ned alone stood. the dictator sat at the head of the table, about which were castrillon, sesma, cos, gaona, the italian, filisola and others. it seemed to ned that he had come not only upon a breakfast but upon a conference as well. the soldiers who had guarded ned stepped back, urrea stood by the wall, and the boy was left to meet the fixed gaze of santa anna. the dictator wore a splendid uniform, as usual. his face seemed to ned fuller and more flushed than when they had last met in mexico. the marks of dissipation were there. ned saw him slip a little silver box from the pocket of his waistcoat and take from it a pinch of a dark drug, which he ate. it was opium, but the mexican generals seemed to take no note of it. santa anna's gaze was fixed and piercing, as if he would shoot terror into the soul of his enemy--a favorite device of his--but ned withstood it. then santa anna, removing his stare from his face, looked him slowly up and down. the generals said nothing, waiting upon their leader, who could give life or death as he chose. ned was sure that santa anna remembered him, and, in a moment, he knew that he was right. "it is young fulton, who made the daring and ingenious escape from our hospitality in the capital," he said, "and who also departed in an unexpected manner from one of the submarine dungeons of our castle of san juan de ulua. fate does not seem to reward your courage and enterprise as they deserve, since you are in our hands again." the dictator laughed and his generals laughed obediently also. ned said nothing. "i am informed by that most meritorious young officer, captain urrea," continued santa anna, "that you were captured about three o'clock this morning trying to escape from the alamo." "that is correct," said ned. "why were you running away in the dark?" ned flushed, but, knowing that it was an unworthy and untruthful taunt, he remained silent. "you do not choose to answer," said santa anna, "but i tell you that you are the rat fleeing from the sinking ship. our cannon have wrecked the interior of the alamo. half of your men are dead, and the rest would gladly surrender if i should give them the promise of life." "it is not true!" exclaimed ned with heat. "despite all your fire the defenders of the alamo have lost but a few men. you offer no quarter and they ask none. they are ready to fight to the last." there was a murmur among the generals, but santa anna raised his hand and they were silent again. "i cannot believe all that you say," he continued. "it is a boast. the texans are braggarts. to-morrow they die, every one of them. but tell us the exact condition of everything inside the alamo, and perhaps i may spare your life." ned shut his teeth so hard that they hurt. a deep flush surged into the dark face of santa anna. "you are stubborn. all the texans are stubborn. but i do not need any information from you. i shall crush the alamo, as my fingers would smash an eggshell." "but your fingers will be pierced deep," ned could not keep from replying. "they will run blood." "be that as it may," said santa anna, who, great in some things, was little enough to taunt an enemy in his power, "you will not live to see it. i am about to give orders to have you shot within an hour." his lips wrinkled away from his white teeth like those of a great cat about to spring, and his cruel eyes contracted. holding all the power of mexico in his hands he was indeed something to be dreaded. the generals about the table never spoke. but ned remembered the words of roylston. "a great merchant named john roylston has been a good friend to me," he said. "he told me that if i should ever fall into your hands i was to mention his name to you, and to say that he considered my life of value." the expression of the dictator changed. he frowned, and then regarded ned intently, as if he would read some secret that the boy was trying to hide. "and so you know john roylston," he said at length, "and he wishes you to say to me that your life is of value." ned saw the truth at once. he had a talisman and that talisman was the name of roylston. he did not know why it was so, but it was a wonderful talisman nevertheless, because it was going to save his life for the time being, at least. he glanced at the generals, and he saw a look of curiosity on the face of every one of them. "i know roylston," said santa anna slowly, "and there are some matters between us. it may be to my advantage to spare you for a while." ned's heart sprang up. life was sweet. since he was to be spared for a while it must mean ultimately exchange or escape. santa anna, a reader of the human face, saw what was in his mind. "be not too sanguine," he said, "because i have changed my mind once it does not mean that you are to be free now or ever. i shall keep you here, and you shall see your comrades fall." a sudden smile, offspring of a quick thought and satanic in its nature, passed over his face. "i will make you a spectator of the defeat of the texans," he said. "a great event needs a witness, and since you cannot be a combatant you can serve in that capacity. we attack at dawn to-morrow, and you shall miss nothing of it." the wicked smile passed over his face again. it had occurred to ned, a student of history, that the gladiatorial cruelty of the ancient romans had descended to the spaniards instead of the italians. now he was convinced that it was so. "you shall be kept a prisoner in one of our strongest houses," said santa anna, "and captain urrea, whose vigilance prevented your escape, will keep guard over you. i fancy it is a task that he does not hate." santa anna had also read the mind of the young mexican. urrea smiled. he liked this duty. he hated ned and he, too, was not above taunting a prisoner. he advanced, and put a hand upon ned's shoulder, but the boy shook it off. "don't touch me," said ned. "i'll follow without resistance." santa anna laughed. "let him have his way for the present, captain urrea," he said. "but remember that it is due to your gentleness and mercy. adios, señor fulton, we meet again to-morrow morning, and if you survive i shall report to mr. roylston the manner in which you may bear yourself." "good-day," said ned, resolved not to be outdone, even in ironical courtesy. "and now, captain urrea, if you will lead the way, i'll follow." urrea and his soldiers took ned from the veramendi house and across the street to a large and strong stone building. "you are fortunate," said urrea, "to have escaped immediate death. i do not know why the name of roylston was so powerful with our general, but i saw that it was." "it seemed to have its effect," said ned. urrea led the way to the flat roof of the house, a space reached by a single narrow stairway. "i shall leave you here with two guards," he said. "i shall give them instructions to fire upon you at the slightest attempt on your part to escape, but i fancy that you will have sense enough not to make any such attempt." urrea departed, but the two sentinels sat by the entrance to the stairway, musket in hand. he had not the faintest chance to get by them, and knowing it he sat down on the low stone coping of the roof. he wondered why urrea had brought him there instead of locking him up in a room. perhaps it was to mock him with the sight of freedom so near and yet unattainable. his gaze turned instinctively to the alamo like the magnet to the pole. there was the fortress, gray and grim in the sunshine, with the dim figures of the watchers on the walls. what were they doing inside now? how were crockett and bowie? his heart filled with grief that he had failed them. but had he failed them? neither urrea nor any other mexican had spoken of the approach of a relieving force under roylston. there was no sign that the mexicans were sending any part of their army to meet it. the heavy thud of a great gun drew his attention, and he saw the black smoke from the discharge rising over the plain. a second, a third and a fourth cannon shot were fired, but no answer came from the walls of the alamo. at length he saw one of the men in the nearest battery to the alamo expose himself above the earthwork. there was a flash from the wall of the church, a little puff of smoke, and ned saw the man fall as only dead men fall. perhaps it was davy crockett, the great marksman, who had fired that shot. he liked to think that it was so, and he rejoiced also at this certain evidence that the little garrison was as dauntless as ever. he watched the alamo for nearly an hour, and he saw that the firing was desultory. not more than a dozen cannon shots were fired during that time, and only three or four rifles replied from the alamo. toward noon the firing ceased entirely, and ned knew that this was in very fact and truth the lull before the storm. his attention wandered to his guards. they were mere peons, but, although watchful, they were taking their ease. evidently they liked their task. they were resting with the complete relaxation of the body that only the southern races know. both had lighted cigarritos, and were puffing at them contentedly. it had been a long time since ned had seen such a picture of lazy ease. "you like it here?" he said to the nearest. the man took the cigarrito from his mouth, emitted smoke from his nose and replied politely: "it is better to be here lying in the sun than out there on the grass with a texan bullet through one's body. is it not so, fernando?" "aye, it is so," replied his comrade. "i like not the texan bullets. i am glad to be here where they cannot reach me. it is said that satan sights their rifles for them, because they do not miss. they will die hard to-morrow. they will die like the bear in its den, fighting the hunters, when our army is poured upon them. that will be an end to all the texans, and we will go back to the warm south." "but are you sure," asked ned, "that it will be an end of the texans? not all the texans are shut up in the alamo." "what matters it?" replied fernando, lightly. "it may be delayed, but the end will be the same. nothing can resist the great, the powerful, the most illustrious santa anna. he is always able to dig graves for his enemies." the men talked further. ned gathered from them that the whole force of santa anna was now present. some of his officers wanted him to wait for siege artillery of the heaviest caliber that would batter down the walls of the alamo, but the dictator himself was impatient for the assault. it would certainly take place the next morning. "and why is the young señor here?" asked fernando. "the order has been issued that no texan shall be spared, and do you not see the red flag waving there close by us?" ned looked up. the red flag now flaunted its folds very near to him. he could not repress a shiver. "i am here," he replied, "because some one who has power has told general santa anna that i am not to be put to death." "it is well for you, then," said fernando, "that you have a friend of such weight. it is a pity to die when one is so young and so straight and strong as you. ah, my young señor, the world is beautiful. look how green is the grass there by the river, and how the sun lies like gold across it!" ned had noticed before the love of beauty that the humblest peon sometimes had, and there was a certain touch of brotherly feeling between him and this man, his jailer. "the world is beautiful," said the boy, "and i am willing to tell you that i have no wish to leave it." "nor i," said fernando. "why are the texans so foolish as to oppose the great santa anna, the most illustrious and powerful of all generals and rulers? did they not know that he would come and crush them, every one?" ned did not reply. the peon, in repose at least, had a gentle heart, and the boy knew that santa anna was to him omnipotent and omniscient. he turned his attention anew to the alamo, that magnet of his thoughts. it was standing quiet in the sun now. the defiant flag of the defenders, upon which they had embroidered the word "texas," hung lazily from the staff. the guards in the afternoon gave him some food and a jug of water, and they also ate and drank upon the roof. they were yet amply content with their task and their position there. no bullets could reach them. the sunshine was golden and pleasant. they had established friendly relations with the prisoner. he had not given them the slightest trouble, and, before and about them, was spread the theater upon which a mighty drama was passing, all for them to see. what more could be asked by two simple peasants of small wants? ned was glad that they let him remain upon the roof. the alamo drew his gaze with a power that he could not break if he would. since he was no longer among the defenders he was eager to see every detail in the vast drama that was now unfolding. but the afternoon passed in inaction. the sun was brilliant and toward evening turned to a deep, glowing red. it lighted up for the last time the dim figures that stood on the walls of the alamo. ned choked as he saw them there. he felt the premonition. urrea came upon the roof shortly before twilight. he was not sneering or ironical, and ned, who had no wish to quarrel at such a time, was glad of it. "as general santa anna told you," said urrea, "the assault is to be made in overwhelming force early in the morning. it will succeed, of course. nothing can prevent it. through the man roylston, you have some claim upon the general, but it may not be strong enough to save you long. a service now might make his pardon permanent." "what do you mean by a service now?" "a few words as to the weaker points of the alamo, the best places for our troops to attack. you cannot do anything for the defenders. you cannot alter their fate in any particular, but you might do something for yourself." ned did not wish to appear dramatic. he merely turned his back upon the young mexican. "very well," said urrea, "i made you the offer. it was for you to accept it or not as you wish." he left him upon the roof, and ned saw the last rim of the red sun sink in the plain. he saw the twilight come, and the alamo fade into a dim black bulk in the darkness. he thought once that he heard a cry of a sentinel from its walls, "all's well," but he knew that it was only fancy. the distance was far too great. besides, all was not well. when the darkness had fully come, he descended with his two benevolent jailers to a lower part of the house, where he was assigned to a small room, with a single barred window and without the possibility of escape. his guards, after bringing him food and water, gave him a polite good night and went outside. he knew that they would remain on watch in the hall. ned could eat and drink but little. nor could he yet sleep. the night was far too heavy upon him for slumber. besides, it had brought many noises, significant noises that he knew. he heard the rumble of cannon wheels over the rough pavements, and the shouts of men to the horses or mules. he heard troops passing, now infantry, and then cavalry, the hoofs of their horses grinding upon the stones. he pressed his face against the barred window. he was eager to hear and yet more eager to see. he caught glimpses only of horse and foot as they passed, but he knew what all those sights and sounds portended. in the night the steel coil of the mexicans was being drawn closer and closer about the alamo. brave and resolute, he was only a boy after all. he felt deserted of all men. he wanted to be back there with crockett and bowie and travis and the others. the water came into his eyes, and unconsciously he pulled hard at the iron bars. he remained there a long time, listening to the sounds. once he heard a trumpet, and its note in the night was singularly piercing. he knew that it was a signal, probably for the moving of a regiment still closer to the alamo. but there were no shots from either the mexicans or the mission. the night was clear with many stars. after two or three hours at the window ned tried to sleep. there was a narrow bed against the wall, and he lay upon it, full length, but he did not even close his eyes. he became so restless that at last he rose and went to the window again. it must have been then past midnight. the noises had ceased. evidently the mexicans had everything ready. the wind blew cold upon his face, but it brought him no news of what was passing without. he went back to the bed, and by and by he sank into a heavy slumber. chapter xiii to the last man ned awoke after a feverish night, when there was yet but a strip of gray in the east. it was sunday morning, but he had lost count of time, and did not know it. he had not undressed at all when he lay down, and now he stood by the window, seeking to see and hear. but the light was yet dim and the sounds were few. nevertheless the great pulse in his throat began to leap. the attack was at hand. the door of the room was unlocked and the two peons who had guarded him upon the roof came for him. ned saw in the half gloom that they were very grave of countenance. "we are to take you to the noble captain urrea, who is waiting for you," said fernando. "very well," said ned. "i am ready. you have been kind to me, and i hope that we shall meet again after to-day." both men shook their heads. "we fear that is not to be," said fernando. they found urrea and another young officer waiting at the door of the house. urrea was in his best uniform and his eyes were very bright. he was no coward, and ned knew that the gleam was in anticipation of the coming attack. "the time is at hand," he said, "and it will be your wonderful fortune to see how mexico strikes down her foe." his voice, pitched high, showed excitement, and a sense of the dramatic. ned said nothing, and his own pulses began to leap again. the strip of gray in the east was broadening, and he now saw that the whole town was awake, although it was not yet full daylight. santa anna had been at work in the night, while he lay in that feverish sleep. he heard everywhere now the sound of voices, the clank of arms and the beat of horses' hoofs. the flat roofs were crowded with the mexican people. ned saw mexican women there in their dresses of bright colors, like roman women in the colosseum, awaiting the battle of the gladiators. the atmosphere was surcharged with excitement, and the sense of coming triumph. ned's breath seemed to choke in his throat and his heart beat painfully. once more he wished with all his soul that he was with his friends, that he was in the alamo. he belonged with them there, and he would rather face death with those familiar faces around him than be here, safe perhaps, but only a looker-on. it was with him now a matter of the emotions, and not of reasoned intellect. once more he looked toward the old mission, and saw the dim outline of the buildings, with the dominating walls of the church. he could not see whether anyone watched on the walls, but he knew that the sentinels were there. perhaps crockett, himself, stood among them now, looking at the great mexican coil of steel that was wrapping itself tighter and tighter around the alamo. despite himself, ned uttered a sigh. "what is the matter with you?" asked urrea, sharply. "are you already weeping for the conquered?" "you know that i am not," replied ned. "you need not believe me, but i regret that i am not in the alamo with my friends." "it's an idle wish," said urrea, "but i am taking you now to general santa anna. then i leave, and i go there! look, the horsemen!" he extended his hand, and ned saw his eyes kindling. the mexican cavalry were filing out in the dim dawn, troop after troop, the early light falling across the blades of the lances, spurs and bridles jingling. all rode well, and they made a thrilling picture, as they rode steadily on, curving about the old fortress. "i shall soon be with them," said urrea in a tone of pride. "we shall see that not a single one of your texans escapes from the alamo." ned felt that choking in his throat again, but he deemed it wiser to keep silent. they were going toward the main plaza now, and he saw masses of troops gathered in the streets. these men were generally silent, and he noticed that their faces expressed no elation. he divined at once that they were intended for the assault, and they had no cause for joy. they knew that they must face the deadly texan rifles. urrea led the way to a fortified battery standing in front of the main plaza. a brilliant group stood behind an earthen wall, and ned saw santa anna among them. "i have brought the prisoner," said urrea, saluting. "very good," replied the dictator, "and now, captain urrea, you can join your command. you have served me well, and you shall have your share in the glory of this day." urrea flushed with pride at the compliment, and bowed low. then he hurried away to join the horse. santa anna turned his attention. "i have brought you here at this moment," he said, "to give you a last chance. it is not due to any mercy for you, a rebel, but it is because you have been so long in the alamo that you must know it well. point out to us its weakest places, and you shall be free. you shall go north in safety. i promise it here, in the presence of my generals." "i have nothing to tell," replied ned. "are you sure?" "absolutely sure." "then it merely means a little more effusion of blood. you may stay with us and see the result." all the ancient, inherited cruelty now shone in santa anna's eyes. it was the strange satanic streak in him that made him keep his captive there in order that he might see the fall of his own comrades. a half dozen guards stood near the person of the dictator, and he said to them: "if the prisoner seeks to leave us, shoot him at once." the manner of santa anna was arrogant to the last degree, but ned was glad to stay. he was eager to see the great panorama which was about to be unrolled before him. he was completely absorbed in the alamo, and he utterly forgot himself. black specks were dancing before his eyes, and the blood was pounding in his ears, but he took no notice of such things. the gray bar in the east broadened. a thin streak of shining silver cut through it, and touched for a moment the town, the river, the army and the alamo. ned leaned against an edge of the earthwork, and breathed heavily and painfully. he had not known that his heart could beat so hard. the same portentous silence prevailed everywhere. the men and women on the roofs of the houses were absolutely still. the cavalry, their line now drawn completely about the mission, were motionless. ned, straining his eyes toward the alamo, could see nothing there. suddenly he put up his hand and wiped his forehead. his fingers came away wet. his blood prickled in his veins like salt. he became impatient, angry. if the mine was ready, why did they not set the match? such waiting was the pitch of cruelty. "cos, my brother," said santa anna to the swart general, "take your command. it was here that the texan rebels humiliated you, and it is here that you shall have full vengeance." cos saluted, and strode away. he was to lead one of the attacking columns. "colonel duque," said santa anna to another officer, "you are one of the bravest of the brave. you are to direct the attack on the northern wall, and may quick success go with you." duque glowed at the compliment, and he, too, strode away to the head of his column. "colonel romero," said santa anna, "the third column is yours, and the fourth is yours, colonel morales. take your places and, at the signal agreed, the four columns will charge with all their strength. let us see which will be the first in the alamo." the two colonels saluted as the others had done, and joined their columns. the bar of gray in the east was still broadening, but the sun itself did not yet show. the walls of the alamo were still dim, and ned could not see whether any figures were there. santa anna had put a pair of powerful glasses to his eyes, but when he took them down he said nothing of what he had seen. "are all the columns provided?" he said to general sesma, who stood beside him. "they have everything," replied sesma, "crowbars, axes, scaling ladders. sir, they cannot fail!" "no, they cannot," said santa anna exultantly. "these texan rebels fight like demons, but we have now a net through which they cannot break. general gaona, see that the bands are ready and direct them to play the deguelo when the signal for the charge is given." ned shivered again. the "deguelo" meant the "cutting-of-throats," and it, too, was to be the signal of no quarter. he remembered the red flag, and he looked up. it hung, as ever, on the tower of the church of san fernando, and its scarlet folds moved slowly in the light morning breeze. general gaona returned. "the bands are ready, general," he said, "and when the signal is given they will play the air that you have chosen." a mexican, trumpet in hand, was standing near. santa anna turned and said to him the single word: "blow!" the man lifted the trumpet to his lips, and blew a long note that swelled to its fullest pitch, then died away in a soft echo. it was the signal. a tremendous cry burst from the vast ring of the thousands, and it was taken up by the shrill voices of the women on the flat roofs of the houses. the great circle of cavalrymen shook their lances and sabers until they glittered. when the last echo of the trumpet's dying note was gone the bands began to play with their utmost vigor the murderous tune that santa anna had chosen. then four columns of picked mexican troops, three thousand strong, rushed toward the alamo. santa anna and the generals around him were tremendously excited. their manner made no impression upon ned then, but he recalled the fact afterward. the boy became quickly unconscious of everything except the charge of the mexicans and the alamo. he no longer remembered that he was a prisoner. he no longer remembered anything about himself. the cruel throb of that murderous tune, the deguelo, beat upon the drums of his ears, and mingled with it came the sound of the charging mexicans, the beat of their feet, the clank of their arms, and the shouts of their officers. whatever may be said of the herded masses of the mexican troops, the mexican officers were full of courage. they were always in advance, waving their swords and shouting to their men to come on. another silver gleam flashed through the gray light of the early morning, ran along the edges of swords and lances, and lingered for a moment over the dark walls of the alamo. no sound came from the mission, not a shot, not a cry. were they asleep? was it possible that every man, overpowered by fatigue, had fallen into slumber at such a moment? could such as crockett and bowie and travis be blind to their danger? such painful questions raced through ned's mind. he felt a chill run down his spine. yet his breath was like fire to his lips. "nothing will stop them!" cried santa anna. "the texans cower before such a splendid force! they will lay down their arms!" ned felt his body growing colder and colder, and there was a strange tingling at the roots of the hair. now the people upon the roofs were shouting their utmost, and the voices of many women united in one shrill, piercing cry. but he never turned to look at them. his eyes were always on the charging host which converged so fast upon the alamo. the trumpet blew another signal, and there was a crash so loud that it made ned jump. all the mexican batteries had fired at once over the heads of their own troops at the alamo. while the gunners reloaded the smoke of the discharge drifted away and the alamo still stood silent. but over it yet hung a banner on which was written in great letters the word, "texas." the mexican troops were coming close now. the bands playing the deguelo swelled to greater volume and the ground shook again as the mexican artillery fired its second volley. when the smoke drifted away again the alamo itself suddenly burst into flame. the texan cannon at close range poured their shot and shell into the dense ranks of the mexicans. but piercing through the heavy thud of the cannon came the shriller and more deadly crackle of the rifles. the texans were there, every one of them, on the walls. he might have known it. nothing on earth could catch them asleep, nor could anything on earth or under it frighten them into laying down their arms. ned began to shout, but only hoarse cries came from a dry throat through dry lips. the great pulses in his throat were leaping again, and he was saying: "the texans! the texans! oh, the brave texans!" but nobody heard him. santa anna, filisola, castrillon, tolsa, gaona and the other generals were leaning against the earthwork, absorbed in the tremendous spectacle that was passing before them. the soldiers who were to guard the prisoner forgot him and they, too, were engrossed in the terrible and thrilling panorama of war. ned might have walked away, no one noticing, but he, too, had but one thought, and that was the alamo. he saw the mexican columns shiver when the first volley was poured upon them from the walls. in a single glance aside he beheld the exultant look on the faces of santa anna and his generals die away, and he suddenly became conscious that the shrill shouting on the flat roofs of the houses had ceased. but the mexican cannon still poured a cloud of shot and shell over the heads of their men at the alamo, and the troops went on. ned, keen of ear and so intent that he missed nothing, could now separate the two fires. the crackle of the rifles which came from the alamo dominated. rapid, steady, incessant, it beat heavily upon the hearing and nerves. pyramids and spires of smoke arose, drifted and arose again. in the intervals he saw the walls of the church a sheet of flame, and he saw the mexicans falling by dozens and scores upon the plain. he knew that at the short range the texan rifles never missed, and that the hail of their bullets was cutting through the mexican ranks like a fire through dry grass. "god, how they fight!" he heard one of the generals--he never knew which--exclaim. then he saw the officers rushing about, shouting to the men, striking them with the flats of their swords and urging them on. the mexican army responded to the appeal, lifted itself up and continued its rush. the fire from the alamo seemed to ned to increase. the fortress was a living flame. he had not thought that men could fire so fast, but they had three or four rifles apiece. the silence which had replaced the shrill shouting in the town continued. all the crash was now in front of them, and where they stood the sound of the human voice would carry. in a dim far-away manner ned heard the guards talking to one another. their words showed uneasiness. it was not the swift triumphal rush into the alamo that they had expected. great swaths had been cut through the mexican army. santa anna paled more than once when he saw his men falling so fast. "they cannot recoil! they cannot!" he cried. but they did. the column led by colonel duque, a brave man, was now at the northern wall, and the men were rushing forward with the crowbars, axes and scaling ladders. the texan rifles, never more deadly, sent down a storm of bullets upon them. a score of men fell all at once. among them was duque, wounded terribly. the whole column broke and reeled away, carrying duque with them. ned saw the face of santa anna turn purple with rage. he struck the earthwork furiously with the flat of his sword. "go! go!" he cried to gaona and tolsa. "rally them! see that they do not run!" the two generals sprang from the battery and rushed to their task. the mexican cannon had ceased firing, for fear of shooting down their own men, and the smoke was drifting away from the field. the morning was also growing much lighter. the gray dawn had turned to silver, and the sun's red rim was just showing above the eastern horizon. the texan cannon were silent, too. the rifles were now doing all the work. the volume of their fire never diminished. ned saw the field covered with slain, and many wounded were drifting back to the shelter of the earthworks and the town. duque's column was rallied, but the column on the east and the column on the west were also driven back, and santa anna rushed messenger after messenger, hurrying up fresh men, still driving the whole mexican army against the alamo. he shouted orders incessantly, although he remained safe within the shelter of the battery. ned felt an immense joy. he had seen the attack beaten off at three points. a force of twenty to one had been compelled to recoil. his heart swelled with pride in those friends of his. but they were so few in number! even now the mexican masses were reforming. the officers were among them, driving them forward with threats and blows. the great ring of mexican cavalry, intended to keep any of the texans from escaping, also closed in, driving their own infantry forward to the assault. ned's heart sank as the whole mexican army, gathering now at the northern or lower wall, rushed straight at the barrier. but the deadly fire of the rifles flashed from it, and their front line went down. again they recoiled, and again the cavalry closed in, holding them to the task. there was a pause of a few moments. the town had been silent for a long time, and the mexican soldiers themselves ceased to shout. clouds of smoke eddied and drifted about the buildings. the light of the morning, first gray, then silver, turned to gold. the sun, now high above the earth's rim, poured down a flood of rays. everything stood out sharp and clear. ned saw the buildings of the alamo dark against the sun, and he saw men on the walls. he saw the mexican columns pressed together in one great force, and he even saw the still faces of many who lay silent on the plain. he knew that the mexicans were about to charge again, and his feeling of exultation passed. he no longer had hope that the defenders of the alamo could beat back so many. he thought again how few, how very few, were the texans. the silence endured but a moment or two. then the mexicans rushed forward in a mighty mass at the low northern wall, the front lines firing as they went. flame burst from the wall, and ned heard once more the deadly crackle of the texan rifles. the ground was littered by the trail of the mexican fallen, but, driven by their officers, they went on. ned saw them reach the wall and plant the scaling ladders, many of them. scores of men swarmed up the ladders and over the wall. a heavy division forced its way into the redoubt through the sallyport, and as ned saw he uttered a deep gasp. he knew that the alamo was doomed. and the mexicans knew it, too. the shrill screaming of the women began again from the flat roofs of the houses, and shouts burst from the army also. "we have them! we have them!" cried santa anna, exultant and excited. sheets of flame still burst from the alamo, and the rifles still poured bullets on the swarming mexican forces, but the breach had been made. the mexicans went over the low wall in an unbroken stream, and they crowded through the sallyport by hundreds. they were inside now, rushing with the overwhelming weight of twenty to one upon the little garrison. they seized the texan guns, cutting down the gunners with lances and sabers, and they turned the captured cannon upon the defenders. some of the buildings inside the walls were of adobe, and they were soon shattered by the cannon balls. the texans, covered with smoke and dust and the sweat of battle, were forced back by the press of numbers into the convent yard, and then into the church and hospital. here the cannon and rifles in hundreds were turned upon them, but they still fought. often, with no time to reload their rifles, they clubbed them, and drove back the mexican rush. the alamo was a huge volcano of fire and smoke, of shouting and death. those who looked on became silent again, appalled at the sights and sounds. the smoke rose far above the mission, and caught by a light wind drifted away to the east. the mexican generals brought up fresh forces and drove them at the fortress. a heavy column, attacking on the south side, where no defenders were now left, poured over a stockade and crowded into the mission. the circle of cavalry about the alamo again drew closer, lest any texan should escape. but it was a useless precaution. none sought flight. in very truth, the last hope of the alamo was gone, and perhaps there was none among the defenders who did not know it. there were a few wild and desperate characters of the border, whom nothing in life became so much as their manner of leaving it. in the culminating moment of the great tragedy they bore themselves as well as the best. travis, the commander, and bonham stood in the long room of the hospital with a little group around them, most of them wounded, the faces of all black with powder smoke. but they fought on. whenever a mexican appeared at the door an unerring rifle bullet struck him down. fifty fell at that single spot before the rifles, yet they succeeded in dragging up a cannon, thrust its muzzle in at the door and fired it twice loaded with grape shot into the room. the texans were cut down by the shower of missiles, and the whole place was filled with smoke. then the mexicans rushed in and the few texans who had survived the grape shot fell fighting to the last with their clubbed rifles. here lay travis of the white soul and beside him fell the brave bonham, who had gone out for help, and who had returned to die with his comrades. the texans who had defended the room against so many were only fifteen in number, and they were all silent now. now the whole attack converged on the church, the strongest part of the alamo, where the texans were making their last stand. the place was seething with fire and smoke, but above it still floated the banner upon which was written in great letters the word, "texas." the mexicans, pressing forward in dense masses, poured in cannon balls and musket balls at every opening. half the texans were gone, but the others never ceased to fire with their rifles. within that raging inferno they could hardly see one another for the smoke, but they were all animated by the same purpose, to fight to the death and to carry as many of their foes with them as they could. evans, who had commanded the cannon, rushed for the magazine to blow up the building. they had agreed that if all hope were lost he should do so, but he was killed on his way by a bullet, and the others went on with the combat. near the entrance to the church stood a great figure swinging a clubbed rifle. his raccoon skin cap was lost, and his eyes burned like coals of fire in his swarthy face. it was crockett, gone mad with battle, and the mexicans who pressed in recoiled before the deadly sweep of the clubbed rifle. some were awed by the terrific figure, dripping blood, and wholly unconscious of danger. "forward!" cried a mexican officer, and one of his men went down with a shattered skull. the others shrank back again, but a new figure pressed into the ring. it was that of the younger urrea. at the last moment he had left the cavalry and joined in the assault. "don't come within reach of his blows!" he cried. "shoot him! shoot him!" he snatched a double-barreled pistol from his own belt and fired twice straight at crockett's breast. the great tennesseean staggered, dropped his rifle and the flame died from his eyes. with a howl of triumph his foes rushed upon him, plunged their swords and bayonets into his body, and he fell dead with a heap of the mexican slain about him. a bullet whistled past urrea's face and killed a man beyond him. he sprang back. bowie, still suffering severe injuries from a fall from a platform, was lying on a cot in the arched room to the left of the entrance. unable to walk, he had received at his request two pistols, and now he was firing them as fast as he could pull the triggers and reload. "shoot him! shoot him at once!" cried urrea. his own pistol was empty now, but a dozen musket balls were fired into the room. bowie, hit twice, nevertheless raised himself upon his elbow, aimed a pistol with a clear eye and a steady hand, and pulled the trigger. a mexican fell, shot through the heart, but another volley of musket balls was discharged at the georgian. struck in both head and heart he suddenly straightened out and lay still upon the cot. thus died the famous bowie. mrs. dickinson and her baby had been hidden in the arched room on the other side for protection. the mexicans killed a texan named walters at the entrance, and, wild with ferocity, raised his body upon a half dozen bayonets while the blood ran down in a dreadful stream upon those who held it aloft. urrea rushed into the room and found the cowering woman and her baby. the mexicans followed, and were about to slay them, too, when a gallant figure rushed between. it was the brave and humane almonte. sword in hand, he faced the savage horde. he uttered words that made urrea turn dark with shame and leave the room. the soldiers were glad to follow. at the far end of the church a few texans were left, still fighting with clubbed rifles. the mexicans drew back a little, raised their muskets and fired an immense shattering volley. when the smoke cleared away not a single texan was standing, and then the troops rushed in with sword and bayonet. it was nine o'clock in the morning, and the alamo had fallen. the defenders were less than nine score, and they had died to the last man. a messenger rushed away at once to santa anna with the news of the triumph, and he came from the shelter, glorying, exulting and crying that he had destroyed the texans. ned followed the dictator. he never knew exactly why, because many of those moments were dim, like the scenes of a dream, and there was so much noise, excitement and confusion that no one paid any attention to him. but an overwhelming power drew him on to the alamo, and he rushed in with the mexican spectators. ned passed through the sallyport and he reeled back aghast for a moment. the mexican dead, not yet picked up, were strewn everywhere. they had fallen in scores. the lighter buildings were smashed by cannon balls and shells. the earth was gulleyed and torn. the smoke from so much firing drifted about in banks and clouds, and it gave forth the pungent odor of burned gunpowder. the boy knew not only that the alamo had fallen, but that all of its defenders had fallen with it. the knowledge was instinctive. he had been with those men almost to the last day of the siege, and he had understood their spirit. he was not noticed in the crush. santa anna and the generals were running into the church, and he followed them. here he saw the texan dead, and he saw also a curious crowd standing around a fallen form. he pressed into the ring and his heart gave a great throb of grief. it was crockett, lying upon his back, his body pierced by many wounds. ned had known that he would find him thus, but the shock, nevertheless, was terrible. yet crockett's countenance was calm. he bore no wounds in the face, and he lay almost as if he had died in his bed. it seemed to ned even in his grief that no more fitting death could have come to the old hero. then, following another crowd, he saw bowie, also lying peacefully in death upon his cot. he felt the same grief for him that he had felt for crockett, but it soon passed in both cases. a strange mood of exaltation took its place. they had died as one might wish to die, since death must come to all. it was glorious that these defenders of the alamo, comrades of his, should have fallen to the last man. the full splendor of their achievement suddenly burst in a dazzling vision before him. texans who furnished such valor could not be conquered. santa anna might have twenty to one or fifty to one or a hundred to one, in the end it would not matter. the mood endured. he looked upon the dead faces of travis and bonham also, and he was not shaken. he saw others, dozens and dozens whom he knew, and the faces of all of them seemed peaceful to him. the shouting and cheering and vast chatter of the mexicans did not disturb him. his mood was so high that all these things passed as nothing. ned made no attempt to escape. he knew that while he might go about almost as he chose in this crowd of soldiers, now disorganized, the ring of cavalry beyond would hold him. the thought of escape, however, was but little in his mind just then. he was absorbed in the great tomb of the alamo. here, despite the recent work of the cannon, all things looked familiar. he could mark the very spots where he had stood and talked with crockett or bowie. he knew how the story of the immortal defence would spread like fire throughout texas and beyond. when he should tell how he had seen the faces of the heroes, every heart must leap. he wandered back to the church, where the curious still crowded. many people from the town, influential mexicans, wished to see the terrible texans, who yet lay as they had fallen. some spoke scornful words, but most regarded them with awe. ned looked at crockett for the second time, and a hand touched him on the shoulder. it was urrea. "where are your texans now?" he asked. "they are gone," replied ned, "but they will never be forgotten." and then he added in a flash of anger. "five or six times as many mexicans have gone with them." "it is true," said the young mexican thoughtfully. "they fought like cornered mountain wolves. we admit it. and this one, crockett you call him, was perhaps the most terrible of them all. he swung his clubbed rifle so fiercely that none dared come within its reach. i slew him." "you?" exclaimed ned. "yes, i! why should i not? i fired two pistol bullets into him and he fell." he spoke with a certain pride. ned said nothing, but he pressed his teeth together savagely and his heart swelled with hate of the sleek and triumphant urrea. "general santa anna, engrossed in much more important matters, has doubtless forgotten you," continued the mexican, "but i will see that you do not escape. why he spares you i know not, but it is his wish." he called to two soldiers, whom he detailed to follow ned and see that he made no attempt to escape. the boy was yet so deeply absorbed in the alamo that no room was left in his mind for anything else. nor did he care to talk further with urrea, who he knew was not above aiming a shaft or two at an enemy in his power. he remained in the crowd until santa anna ordered that all but the troops be cleared from the alamo. then, at the order of the dictator, the bodies of the texans were taken without. a number of them were spread upon the ground, and were covered with a thick layer of dry wood and brush. then more bodies of men and heaps of dry wood were spread in alternate layers until the funeral pile was complete. young urrea set the torch, while the mexican army and population looked on. the dry wood flamed up rapidly and the whole was soon a pyramid of fire and smoke. ned was not shocked at this end, even of the bodies of brave men. he recalled the stories of ancient heroes, the bodies of whom had been consumed on just such pyres as this, and he was willing that his comrades should go to join hercules, hector, achilles and the rest. the flames roared and devoured the great pyramid, which sank lower, and at last ned turned away. his mood of exaltation was passing. no one could remain keyed to that pitch many hours. overwhelming grief and despair came in its place. his mind raged against everything, against the cruelty of santa anna, who had hoisted the red flag of no quarter, against fate, that had allowed so many brave men to perish, and against the overwhelming numbers that the mexicans could always bring against the texans. he walked gloomily toward the town, the two soldiers who had been detailed as guards following close behind him. he looked back, saw the sinking blaze of the funeral pyre, shuddered and walked on. san antonio de bexar was rejoicing. most of its people, mexican to the core, shared in the triumph of santa anna. the terrible texans were gone, annihilated, and santa anna was irresistible. the conquest of texas was easy now. no, it was achieved already. they had the dictator's own word for it that the rest was a mere matter of gathering up the fragments. some of the graver and more kindly mexican officers thought of their own losses. the brave and humane almonte walked through the courts and buildings of the alamo, and his face blanched when he reckoned their losses. a thousand men killed or wounded was a great price to pay for the nine score texans who were sped. but no such thoughts troubled santa anna. all the vainglory of his nature was aflame. they were decorating the town with all the flags and banners and streamers they could find, and he knew that it was for him. at night they would illuminate in his honor. he stretched out his arm toward the north and west, and murmured that it was all his. he would be the ruler of an empire half the size of europe. the scattered and miserable texans could set no bounds to his ambition. he had proved it. he would waste no more time in that empty land of prairies and plains. he sent glowing dispatches about his victory to the city of mexico and announced that he would soon come. his subordinates would destroy the wandering bands of texans. then he did another thing that appealed to his vanity. he wrote a proclamation to the texans announcing the fall of the alamo, and directing them to submit at once, on pain of death, to his authority. he called for mrs. dickinson, the young wife, now widow, whom the gallantry of almonte had saved from massacre in the alamo. he directed her to take his threat to the texans at gonzales, and she willingly accepted. mounting a horse and alone save for the baby in her arms, she rode away from san antonio, shuddering at the sight of the mexicans, and passed out upon the desolate and dangerous prairies. the dictator was so absorbed in his triumph and his plans for his greater glory that for the time he forgot all about ned fulton, his youthful prisoner, who had crossed the stream and who was now in the town, attended by the two peons whom urrea had detailed as his guards. but ned had come out of his daze, and his mind was as keen and alert as ever. the effects of the great shock of horror remained. his was not a bitter nature, but he could not help feeling an intense hatred of the mexicans. he was on the battle line, and he saw what they were doing. he resolved that now was his time to escape, and in the great turmoil caused by the excitement and rejoicing in san antonio he did not believe that it would be difficult. he carefully cultivated the good graces of the two soldiers who were guarding him. he bought for them mescal and other fiery drinks which were now being sold in view of the coming festival. their good nature increased and also their desire to get rid of a task that had been imposed upon them. why should they guard a boy when everybody else was getting ready to be merry? they went toward the main plaza, and came to the zambrano row, where the texans had fought their way when they took san antonio months before. ned looked up at the buildings. they were still dismantled. great holes were in the walls and the empty windows were like blind eyes. he saw at once that their former inhabitants had not yet returned to them, and here he believed was his chance. when they stood beside the first house he called the attention of his guards to some mexican women who were decorating a doorway across the street. when they looked he darted into the first of the houses in the zambrano row. he entered a large room and at the corner saw a stairway. he knew this place. he had been here in the siege of san antonio by the texans, and now he had the advantage over his guards, who were probably strangers. he rushed for the staircase and, just as he reached the top, one of the guards, who had followed as soon as they noticed the flight of the prisoner, fired his musket. the discharge roared in the room, but the bullet struck the wall fully a foot away from the target. ned was on the second floor, and out of range the next moment. he knew that the soldiers would follow him, and he passed through the great hole, broken by the texans, into the next house. here he paused to listen, and he heard the two soldiers muttering and breathing heavily. the distaste which they already felt for their task had become a deep disgust. why should they be deprived of their part in the festival to follow up a prisoner? what did a single captive amount to, anyhow? even if he escaped now the great, the illustrious santa anna, whose eyes saw all things, would capture him later on when he swept all the scattered texans into his basket. ned went from house to house through the holes broken in the party walls, and occasionally he heard his pursuers slouching along and grumbling. at the fourth house he slipped out upon the roof, and lay flat near the stone coping. he knew that if the soldiers came upon the roof they would find him, but he relied upon the mescal and their lack of zeal. he heard them once tramping about in the room below him, and then he heard them no more. ned remained all the rest of the afternoon upon the roof, not daring to leave his cramped position against the coping. he felt absolutely safe there from observation, mexicans would not be prowling through dismantled and abandoned houses at such a time. now and then gay shouts came from the streets below. the mexicans of bexar were disturbed little by the great numbers of their people who had fallen at the alamo. the dead were from the far valleys of mexico, and were strangers. ned afterward thought that he must have slept a little toward twilight, but he was never sure of it. he saw the sun set, and the gray and silent alamo sink away into the darkness. then he slipped from the roof, anxious to be away before the town was illuminated. he had no difficulty at all in passing unnoticed through the streets, and he made his way straight for the alamo. he was reckoning very shrewdly now. he knew that the superstitious mexicans would avoid the mission at night as a place thronged with ghosts, and that santa anna would not need to post any guard within those walls. he would pass through the inclosures, then over the lower barriers by which the mexicans had entered, and thence into the darkness beyond. it seemed to him the best road to escape, and he had another object also in entering the alamo. the defenders had had three or four rifles apiece, and he was convinced that somewhere in the rooms he would find a good one, with sufficient ammunition. it was with shudders that he entered the alamo, and the shudders came again when he looked about the bloodstained courts and rooms, lately the scene of such terrible strife, but now so silent. in a recess of the church which had been used as a little storage place by himself and crockett he found an excellent rifle of the long-barreled western pattern, a large horn of powder and a pouch full of bullets. there was also a supply of dried beef, which he took, too. now he felt himself a man again. he would find the texans and then they would seek vengeance for the alamo. he crossed the main plaza, dropped over the low wall and quickly disappeared in the dusk. chapter xiv the news of the fall five days before the fall of the alamo a little group of men began to gather at the village of washington, on the brazos river in texas. the name of the little town indicated well whence its people had come. all the houses were new, mostly of unpainted wood, and they contained some of the furniture of necessity, none of luxury. the first and most important article was the rifle which the texans never needed more than they did now. but this new and little washington was seething with excitement and suspense, and its population was now more than triple the normal. news had come that the alamo was beleaguered by a force many times as numerous as its defenders, and that crockett, bowie, travis and other famous men were inside. they had heard also that santa anna had hoisted the red flag of no quarter, and that texans everywhere, if taken, would be slaughtered as traitors. the people of washington had full cause for their excitement and suspense. the little town also had the unique distinction of being a capital for a day or two. the texans felt, with the news that santa anna had enveloped the alamo, that they must take decisive action. they believed that the mexicans had broken every promise to the texans. they knew that not only their liberty and property, but their lives, also, were in peril. despite the great disparity of numbers it must be a fight to the death between texas and mexico. the texans were now gathering at washington. one man who inspired courage wherever he went had come already. sam houston had ridden into town, calm, confident and talking only of victory. he was dressed with a neatness and care unusual on the border, wearing a fine black suit, while his face was shaded by the wide brim of a white sombrero. the famous scouts, "deaf" smith and henry karnes, and young zavala, whom ned had known in mexico, were there also. fifty-eight delegates representing texas gathered in the largest room of a frame building. "deaf" smith and henry karnes came in and sat with their rifles across their knees. while some of the delegates were talking houston signaled to the two, and they went outside. "what do you hear from the alamo, smith?" asked houston. "travis has fought off all the attacks of the mexicans," replied the great borderer, "but when santa anna brings up his whole force an' makes a resolute assault it's bound to go under. the mission is too big an' scattered to be held by travis an' his men against forty or fifty times their number." "i fear so. i fear so," said houston sadly, "and we can't get together enough men for its relief. all this quarreling and temporizing are our ruin. heavens, what a time for disagreements!" "there couldn't be a worse time, general," said henry karnes. "me an' 'deaf' would like mighty well to march to the alamo. a lot of our friends are in there an' i reckon we've seen them for the last time." the fine face of houston grew dark with melancholy. "have you been anywhere near san antonio?" he asked smith. "not nearer than thirty miles," replied smith, "but over at goliad i saw a force under colonel fannin that was gettin' ready to start to the relief of travis. with it were some friends of mine. there was palmer, him they call the panther, the biggest and strongest man in texas; obed white, a new englander, an' a boy, will allen. i've knowed 'em well for some time, and there was another that belonged to their little band. but he's in the alamo now, an' they was wild to rescue him." "do you think fannin will get through?" asked houston. "i don't," replied smith decidedly, "an' if he did it would just mean the loss of more good men for us. what do you think about it, hank?" "the same that you do," replied karnes. houston pondered over their words a long time. he knew that they were thoroughly acquainted with texas and the temper of its people, and he relied greatly on their judgment. when he went back in the room which was used as a convention hall smith and karnes remained outside. smith sat down on the grass, lighted a pipe and began to smoke deliberately. karnes also sat down on the grass, lighted his own pipe and smoked with equal deliberation. each man rested his rifle across his knees. "looks bad," said smith. "powerful bad." "almighty bad." "talkin's no good when the enemy's shootin'." "reckon there's nothin' left for us but this," tapping the barrel of his rifle significantly. "only tool that's left for us to use." "reckon we'll soon have as many chances as we want to use it, an' more." "reckon you're almighty right." "an' we'll be there every time." the two men reached over and shook hands deliberately. houston by and by came out again, and saw them sitting there smoking, two images of patience and quiet. "boys," he said, "you're not taking much part in the proceedings." "not much, just yet, colonel sam," replied smith, "but we're waitin'. i reckon that to-morrow you'll declare texas free an' independent, a great an' good republic. an' as there ain't sixty of you to declare it, mebbe you'll need the help of some fellows like hank an' me to make them resolutions come true." "we will," said houston, "and we know that we can rely upon you." he was about to pass on, but he changed his mind and sat down with the men. houston was a singular character. he had been governor of an important state, and he had lived as a savage among savages. he could adapt himself to any company. "boys," he said, "you know a merchant, john roylston, who has headquarters in new orleans, and also offices in st. louis and cincinnati?" "we do," said smith, "an' we've seen him, too, more than once. he's been in these parts not so long ago." "he's in new orleans now," said houston. "he's the biggest trader along the coast. has dealings with santa anna himself, but he's a friend of texas, a powerful one. boys, i've in my pocket now an order from him good for a hundred thousand dollars. it's to be spent buying arms and ammunition for us. and when the time comes there's more coming from the same place. we've got friends, but keep this to yourselves." he walked on and the two took a long and meditative pull at their pipes. "i reckon roylston may not shoot as straight as we can," said smith, "but mebbe at as long range as new orleans he can do more harm to the mexicans than we can." "looks like it. i ain't much of a hand at money, but i like the looks of that man roylston, an' i reckon the more rifles and the more ammunition we have the fewer mexicans will be left." the two scouts, having smoked as long as they wished, went to their quarters and slept soundly through the night. but houston and the leading texans with him hardly slept at all. there was but one course to choose, and they were fully aware of its gravity, houston perhaps more so than the rest, as he had seen more of the world. they worked nearly all night in the bare room, and when houston sought his room he was exhausted. houston's room was a bare little place, lighted by a tallow candle, and although it was not long until day he sat there a while before lying down. a man of wide experience, he alone, with the exception of roylston, knew how desperate was the situation of the texans. in truth, it was the money of roylston sent from new orleans that had caused him to hazard the chance. he knew, too, that, in time, more help would arrive from the same source, and he believed there would be a chance against the mexicans, a fighting chance, it is true, but men who were willing to die for a cause seldom failed to win. he blew out the candle, got in bed and slept soundly. "deaf" smith and henry karnes were up early--they seldom slept late--and saw the sun rise out of the prairie. they were in a house which had a small porch, looking toward the brazos. after breakfast they lighted their cob pipes again, smoked and meditated. "reckon somethin' was done by our leadin' statesmen last night," said smith. "reckon there was," said karnes. "reckon i can guess what it was." "reckon i can, too." "reckon i'll wait to hear it offish-ul-ly before i speak." "reckon i will, too. lots of time wasted talkin'." "reckon you're right." they sat in silence for a full two hours. they smoked the first hour, and they passed the second in their chairs without moving. they had mastered the borderer's art of doing nothing thoroughly, when nothing was to be done. then a man came upon the porch and spoke to them. his name was burnet, david g. burnet. "good mornin'. how is the new republic?" said "deaf" smith. "so you know," said burnet. "we don't know, but we've guessed, hank an' me. we saw things as they was comin'." "i reckon, too," said karnes, "that we ain't a part of mexico any more." "no, we're a free an' independent republic. it was so decided last night, and we've got nothing more to do now but to whip a nation of eight millions, the fifty thousand of us." "well," said smith philosophically, "it's a tough job, but it might be did. i've heard tell that them old greeks whipped the persians when the odds were powerful high against them." "that is true," said burnet, "and we can at least try. we give the reason for declaring our independence. we assert to the world that the mexican republic has become a military despotism, that our agents carrying petitions have been thrown in dungeons in the city of mexico, that we have been ordered to give up the arms necessary for our defence against the savages, and that we have been deprived of every right guaranteed to us when we settled here." "we're glad it's done, although we knew it would be done," said smith. "we ain't much on talkin', mr. president, hank an' me, but we can shoot pretty straight, an' we're at your call." "i know that, god bless you both," said burnet. "the talking is over. it's rifles that we need and plenty of them. now i've to see houston. we're to talk over ways and means." he hurried away, and the two, settling back into their chairs on the porch, relighted their pipes and smoked calmly. "reckon there'll be nothin' doin' for a day or two, hank," said smith. "reckon not, but we'll have to be doin' a powerful lot later, or be hoofin' it for the tall timber a thousand miles north." "you always was full of sense, hank. now there goes sam houston. queer stories about his leavin' tennessee and his life in the indian territory." "that's so, but he's an honest man, looks far ahead, an' 'tween you an' me, 'deaf,' it's a thousand to one that he's to lead us in the war." "reckon you're guessin' good." houston, who had just awakened and dressed, was walking across the grass and weeds to meet burnet. not even he, when he looked at the tiny village and the wilderness spreading about it, foresaw how mighty a state was to rise from beginnings so humble and so small. he and burnet went back into the convention hall, and he wrote a fiery appeal to the people. he said that the alamo was beleaguered and "the citizens of texas must rally to the aid of our army or it will perish." smith and karnes remained while the convention continued its work. they did little ostensibly but smoke their cob pipes, but they observed everything and thought deeply. on sunday morning, five days after the men had gathered at washington, as they stood at the edge of the little town they saw a man galloping over the prairie. neither spoke, but watched him for a while, as the unknown came on, lashing a tired horse. "'pears to be in a hurry," said smith. "an' to be in a hurry generally means somethin' in these parts," said karnes. "i'm makin' 'a guess." "so am i, an' yours is the same as mine. he comes from the alamo." others now saw the man, and there was a rush toward him. his horse fell at the edge of the town, but the rider sprang to his feet and came toward the group, which included both houston and burnet. he was a wild figure, face and clothing covered with dust. but he recognized houston and turned to him at once. "you're general houston, and i'm from the alamo," he said. "i bring a message from colonel travis." there was a sudden and heavy intake of breath in the whole group. "then the alamo has not fallen?" said houston. "not when i left, but that was three days ago. here is the letter." it was the last letter of travis, concluding with the words: "god and texas; victory or death." but when the messenger put the letter into the hands of houston the alamo had fallen two hours before. the letter was laid before the convention, and the excitement was great and irrepressible. the feelings of these stern men were moved deeply. many wished to adjourn at once and march to the relief of the alamo, but the eloquence of houston, who had been reelected commander-in-chief, prevailed against the suggestion. then, with two or three men, he departed for gonzales to raise a force, while the others elected burnet president of the new texas, and departed for harrisburg on buffalo bayou. "deaf" smith and henry karnes did not go just then with houston. they were scouts, hunters and rough riders, and they could do as they pleased. they notified general sam houston, commander-in-chief of the texan armies, that they would come on later, and he was content. when the texan government and the texan army, numbering combined about a hundred men, followed by most of the population, numbering fifty or sixty more, filed off for gonzales, the two sat once more on the same porch, smoking their cob pipes. they were not ordinary men. they were not ordinary scouts and borderers. one from the north and one from the south, they were much alike in their mental processes, their faculties of keen observation and deep reasoning. both were now stirred to the core, but neither showed a trace of it on his face. they watched the little file pass away over the prairie until it was lost to sight behind the swells, and then smith spoke: "i reckon you an' me, hank, will ride toward the alamo." "i reckon we will, deaf, and that right away." inside of five minutes they were on the road, armed and provisioned, the best two borderers, with the single exception of the panther, in all the southwest. they were mounted on powerful mustangs, which, with proper handling and judicious rests, could go on forever. but they pushed them a little that afternoon, stopped for two hours after sundown, and then went on again. they crossed the colorado river in the night, swimming their horses, and about a mile further on stopped in dense chaparral. they tethered the mustangs near them, and spread out their blankets. "if anything comes the horses will wake us," said smith. "i reckon they will," said karnes. both were fast asleep in a few minutes, but they awoke shortly after sunrise. they made a frugal breakfast, while the mustangs had cropped short grass in the night. both horses and men, as tough and wiry as they ever become, were again as fresh as the dawn, and, with not more than a dozen words spoken, the two mounted and rode anew on their quest. always chary of speech, they became almost silence itself as they drew nearer to san antonio de bexar. in the heart of each was a knowledge of the great tragedy, not surmise, but the certainty that acute intelligence deduces from facts. they rode on until, by a simultaneous impulse, the two reined their horses back into a cypress thicket and waited. they had seen three horsemen on the sky line, coming, in the main, in their direction. their trained eyes noticed at once that the strangers were of varying figure. the foremost, even at the distance, seemed to be gigantic, the second was very long and thin, and the third was normal. smith and karnes watched them a little while, and then karnes spoke in words of true conviction. "it would be hard, deaf, for even a bad eye to mistake the foremost." "right you are, hank. you might comb texas with a fine-tooth comb an' you'd never rake out such another." "if that ain't mart palmer, the ring tailed panther, i'll go straight to santa anna an' ask him to shoot me as a fool." "you won't have to go to santa anna." smith rode from the covert, put his curved hand to his mouth, and uttered a long piercing cry. the three horsemen stopped at once, and the giant in the lead gave back the signal in the same fashion. then the two little parties rode rapidly toward each other. while they were yet fifty yards apart they uttered words of hail and good fellowship, and when they met they shook hands with the friendship that has been sealed by common hardships and dangers. "you're goin' toward the alamo?" said smith. "yes," replied the panther. "we started that way several days ago, but we've been delayed. we had a brush with one little party of mexicans, and we had to dodge another that was too big for us. i take it that you ride for the same place." "we do. were you with fannin?" the dark face of the panther grew darker. "we were," he replied. "he started to the relief of the alamo, but the ammunition wagon broke down, an' they couldn't get the cannon across the san antonio river. so me an' obed white an' will allen here have come on alone." "news for news," said smith dryly. "texas has just been made a free an' independent republic, an' sam houston has been made commander-in-chief of all its mighty armies, horse, foot an' cannon. we saw all them things done back there at washington settlement, an' we, bein' a part of the army, are ridin' to the relief of the alamo." "we j'in you, then," said the panther, "an' texas raises two armies of the strength of three an' two to one of five. oh, if only all the texans had come what a roarin' an' rippin' an' t'arin' and chawin' there would have been when we struck santa anna's army, no matter how big it might be." "but they didn't come," said smith grimly, "an' as far as i know we five are all the texans that are ridin' toward san antonio de bexar an' the alamo." "but bein' only five won't keep us from ridin' on," said the panther. "and things are not always as bad as they look," said obed white, after he had heard of the messenger who had come to houston and unmet. "it's never too late to hope." the five rode fast the remainder of the day. they passed through a silent and desolate land. they saw a few cabins, but every one was abandoned. the deep sense of tragedy was over them all, even over young will allen. they rarely spoke, and they rode along in silence, save for the beat of their horses' hoofs. shortly before night they met a lone buffalo hunter whom the panther knew. "have you been close to san antonio, simpson?" asked the panther, after the greeting. "i've been three or four days hangin' 'roun' the neighborhood," replied the hunter. "i came down from the northwest when i heard that santa anna was advancing an' once i thought i'd make a break an' try to get into the alamo, but the mexican lines was drawed too thick an' close." "have you heard anything about the men inside?" asked the panther eagerly. "not a thing. but i've noticed this. a mornin' an' evenin' gun was fired from the fortress every day until yesterday, sunday, an' since then--nothin'." the silence in the little band was as ominous as the silence of the morning and evening gun. simpson shook his head sadly. "boys," he said, "i'm goin' to ride for gonzales an' join houston. i don't think it's any use for me to be hangin' aroun' san antonio de bexar any longer. i wish you luck in whatever you're tryin' to do." he rode away, but the five friends continued their course toward the alamo, without hope now, but resolved to see for themselves. deep in the night, which fortunately for their purpose was dark, heavy clouds shutting out the moon and stars, they approached san antonio from the east. they saw lights, which they knew were those of the town, but there was darkness only where they knew the alamo stood. they tethered their horses in some bushes and crept closer, until they could see the dim bulk of the alamo. no light shone there. they listened long and intently, but not a single sound came from the great hecatomb. again they crept nearer. there were no mexican guards anywhere. a little further and they stood by the low northern wall. "boys," said the panther, "i can't stand it any longer. queer feelin's are runnin' all over me. no, i'm goin' to take the risk, if there is any, all alone. you wait for me here, an' if i don't come back in an hour then you can hunt for me." the panther climbed over the wall and disappeared. the others remained in the deepest shadow waiting and silent. they were oppressed by the heavy gloom that hung over the alamo. it was terrifying to young will allen, not the terror that is caused by the fear of men, but the terror that comes from some tragic mystery that is more than half guessed. nearly an hour passed, when a great figure leaped lightly from the wall and joined them. the swarthy face of the panther was as white as chalk, and he was shivering. "boys," he whispered, "i've seen what i never want to see ag'in. i've seen red, red everywhere. i've been through the rooms of the alamo, an' they're red, splashed with the red blood of men. the water in the ditch was stained with red, an' the earth all about was soaked with it. somethin' awful must have happened in the alamo. there must have been a terrible fight, an' i'm thinkin' that most of our fellows must have died before it was took. but it's give me the creeps, boys, an' i think we'd better get away." "we can't leave any too quick to please me," said will alien. "i'm seeing ghosts all the time." "now that we know for sure the alamo has fallen," said smith, "nothin' is to be gained by stayin' here. it's for sam houston to lead us to revenge, and the more men he has the better. i vote we ride for gonzales." "seein' what we can see as we go," said karnes. "the more information we can pick up on the way about the march of the mexicans the better it will be for houston." "no doubt of that," said the panther. "when we go to roarin' an' rippin' an' t'arin' we must know what we're about. but come on, boys, all that red in the alamo gives me conniption fits." they rode toward the east for a long time until they thought they were beyond the reach of mexican skirmishing parties, and then they slept in a cypress thicket, smith and karnes standing guard by turns. as everybody needed rest they did not resume their journey the next day until nearly noon, and they spent most of the afternoon watching for mexican scouts, although they saw none. they had a full rest that night and the next day they rode slowly toward gonzales. about the middle of the afternoon, as they reached the crest of a swell, will allen uttered an exclamation, and pointed toward the eastern horizon. there they saw a single figure on horseback, and another walking beside it. the afternoon sun was very bright, casting a glow over the distant figures, and, shading their eyes with their hands, they gazed at them a long time. "it's a woman that's ridin'," said smith at last, "an' she's carryin' some sort of a bundle before her." "you're shorely right, deaf," said karnes, "an' i think the one walkin' is a black fellow. looks like it from here." "i'm your way of thinkin'," said the panther, "an' the woman on the horse is american, or i'm mightily fooled in my guess. s'pose we ride ahead faster an' see for shore." they increased the speed of their mustangs to a gallop and rapidly overhauled the little party. they saw the woman trying to urge her horse to greater speed. but the poor beast, evidently exhausted, made no response. the woman, turning in the saddle, looked back at her pursuers. "by all that's wonderful!" exclaimed obed white, "the bundle that she's carrying is a baby!" "it's so," said smith, "an' you can see well enough now that she's one of our own people. we must show her that she's got nothin' to fear from us." he shouted through his arched hands in tremendous tones that they were texans and friends. the woman stopped, and as they galloped up she would have fallen from her horse had not obed white promptly seized her and, dismounting, lifted her and the baby tenderly to the ground. the colored boy who had been walking stood by and did not say anything aloud, but muttered rapidly: "thank the lord! thank the lord!" three of the five were veteran hunters, but they had never before found such a singular party on the prairie. the woman sat down on the ground, still holding the baby tightly in her arms, and shivered all over. the texans regarded her in pitying silence for a few minutes, and then obed white said in gentle tones: "we are friends, ready to take you to safety. tell us who you are." "i am mrs. dickinson," she replied. "deaf" smith looked startled. "there was a lieutenant dickinson in the alamo," he said. "i am his wife," she replied, "and this is our child." "and where is----" smith stopped suddenly, knowing what the answer must be. "he is dead," she replied. "he fell in the defence of the alamo." "might he not be among the prisoners?" suggested obed white gently. "prisoners!" she replied. "there were no prisoners. they fought to the last. every man who was in the alamo died in its defence." the five stared at her in amazement, and for a little while none spoke. "do you mean to say," asked obed white, "that none of the texans survived the fall of the alamo?" "none," she replied. "how do you know?" her pale face filled with color. it seemed that she, too, at that moment felt some of the glow that the fall of the alamo was to suffuse through texas. "because i saw," she replied. "i was in one of the arched rooms of the church, where they made the last stand. i saw crockett fall and i saw the death of bowie, too. i saw santa anna exult, but many, many mexicans fell also. it was a terrible struggle. i shall see it again every day of my life, even if i live to be a hundred." she covered her face with her hands, as if she would cut out the sight of that last inferno in the church. the others were silent, stunned for the time. "all gone," said obed white, at last. "when the news is spread that every man stood firm to the last i think it will light such a fire in texas that santa anna and all his armies cannot put it out." "did you see a boy called ned fulton in the alamo, a tall, handsome fellow with brown hair and gray eyes?" asked obed white. "often," replied mrs. dickinson. "he was with crockett and bowie a great deal." "and none escaped?" said will allen. "not one," she repeated, "i did not see him in the church in the final assault. he doubtless fell in the hospital or in the convent yard. ah, he was a friend of yours! i am sorry." "yes, he was a friend of ours," said the panther. "he was more than that to me. i loved that boy like a son, an' me an' my comrades here mean to see that the mexicans pay a high price for his death. an' may i ask, ma'am, how you come to be here?" she told him how santa anna had provided her with the horse, and had sent her alone with the proclamation to the texans. at the salado creek she had come upon the negro servant of travis, who had escaped from san antonio, and he was helping her on the way. "an' now, ma'am," said "deaf" smith, "we'll guard you the rest of the way to gonzales." the two little groups, now fused into one, resumed their journey over the prairie. chapter xv in another trap when ned fulton scaled the lowest wall of the alamo and dropped into the darkness he ran for a long time. he scarcely knew in what direction he was going, but he was anxious to get away from that terrible town of san antonio de bexar. he was filled with grief for his friends and anger against santa anna and his people. he had passed through an event so tremendous in its nature, so intense and fiery in its results, that his whole character underwent a sudden change. but a boy in years, the man nevertheless replaced the boy in his mind. he had looked upon the face of awful things, so awful that few men could bear to behold them. there was a certain hardening of his nature now. as he ran, and while the feeling of horror was still upon him, the thought of vengeance swelled into a passion. the texans must strike back for what had been done in the alamo. surely all would come when they heard the news that he was bringing. he believed that the texans, and they must be assembled in force somewhere, would be toward the east or the southeast, at harrisburg or goliad or some other place. he would join them as soon as he could, and he slackened his pace to a walk. he was too good a borderer now to exhaust himself in the beginning. he was overpowered after a while by an immense lethargy. a great collapse, both physical and mental, came after so much exhaustion. he felt that he must rest or die. the night was mild, as the spring was now well advanced in texas, and he sought a dense thicket in which he might lie for a while. but there was no scrub or chaparral within easy reach, and his feeling of lassitude became so great that he stopped when he came to a huge oak and lay down under the branches, which spread far and low. he judged that he was about six miles from san antonio, a reasonably safe distance for the night, and, relaxing completely, he fell asleep. then nature began her great work. the pulses which were beating so fast and hard in the hoy's body grew slower and more regular, and at last became normal. the blood flowed in a fresh and strong current through his veins. the great physician, minute by minute, was building up his system again. ned's collapse had been so complete that he did not stir for hours. the day came and the sun rose brilliant in red and gold. the boy did not stir, but not far away a large animal moved. ned's tree was at the edge of a little grassy plain, and upon this the animal stood, with a head held high and upturned nose sniffing the breeze that came from the direction of the sleeper. it was in truth a great animal, one with tremendous teeth, and after hesitating a while it walked toward the tree under which the boy lay. here it paused and again sniffed the air, which was now strong with the human odor. it remained there a while, staring with great eyes at the sleeping form, and then went back to the grassy little meadow. it revisited the boy at intervals, but never disturbed him, and ned slept peacefully on. it was nearly noon when ned awoke, and he might not have awakened then had not the sun from its new position sent a shaft of light directly into his eyes. he saw that his precious rifle was still lying by his side, and then he sprang to his feet, startled to find by the sun that it was so late. he heard a loud joyous neigh, and a great bay horse trotted toward him. it was old jack, the faithful dumb brute, of which he had thought so rarely during all those tense days in the alamo. the mexicans had not taken him. he was here, and happy chance had brought him and his master together again. it was so keen a joy to see a friend again, even an animal, that ned put his arm around old jack's neck, and for the first time tears came to his eyes. "good old jack!" he said, patting his horse's nose. "you must have been waiting here all the time for me. and you must have fared well, too. i never before saw you looking so fat and saucy." the finding of the horse simplified ned's problem somewhat. he had neither saddle nor bridle, but old jack always obeyed him beautifully. he believed that if it came to the pinch, and it became necessary for him to ride for his life, he could guide him in the indian fashion with the pressure of the knees. he made a sort of halter of withes which he fastened on old jack's head, and then he sprang upon his bare back, feeling equal to almost anything. he rode west by south now, his course taking him toward goliad, and he went on at a good gait until twilight. a little later he made out the shapes of wild turkeys, then very numerous in texas among the boughs of the trees, and he brought a fine fat one down at the first shot. after some difficulty he lighted a fire with the flint and steel, which the mexicans fortunately had not taken from him, toasted great strips over the coals, and ate hungrily of juicy and tender wild turkey. he was all the time aware that his fire might bring danger down upon him, but he was willing to chance it. after he had eaten enough he took the remainder of his turkey and rode on. it was a clear, starry night and, as he had been awake only since noon, he continued until about ten o'clock, when he again took the turf under a tree for a couch. he slipped the rude halter from old jack, patted him on the head and said: "old jack, after the lofty way in which you have behaved i wouldn't disgrace you by tying you up for the night. moreover, i know that you're the best guard i could possibly have, and so, trusting you implicitly, i shall go to sleep." his confidence was justified, and the next morning they were away again over the prairie. ned was sure that he would meet roving texans or mexicans before noon, but he saw neither. he surmised that the news of santa anna's great force had sent all the texans eastward, but the loneliness and desolation nevertheless weighed upon him. he crossed several streams, all of them swollen and deep from spring rains, and every time he came to one he returned thanks again because he had found old jack. the great horse always took the flood without hesitation, and would come promptly to the other bank. he saw many deer, and started up several flights of wild turkeys, but he did not disturb them. he was a soldier now, not a hunter, and he sought men, not animals. another night came and found him still alone on the prairie. as before, he slept undisturbed under the boughs of a tree, and he awoke the next morning thoroughly sound in body and much refreshed in mind. but the feeling of hardness, the desire for revenge, remained. he was continually seeing the merciless face of santa anna and the sanguinary interior of the alamo. the imaginative quality of his mind and his sensitiveness to cruelty had heightened the effect produced upon him. he continued to ride through desolate country for several days, living on the game that his rifle brought. he slept one night in an abandoned cabin, with old jack resting in the grass that was now growing rankly at the door. he came the next day to a great trail, so great in truth that he believed it to have been made by mexicans. he did not believe that there was anywhere a texan force sufficient to tread out so broad a road. he noticed, too, that the hoofs of the horses were turned in the general direction of goliad or victoria, nearer the sea, and he concluded that this was another strong mexican army intended to complete the ruin of infant texas. he decided to follow, and near nightfall he saw the camp fires of a numerous force. he rode as near as he dared and reckoned that there were twelve or fifteen hundred men in the camp. he was sure that it was no part of the army with which santa anna had taken the alamo. ned rode a wide circuit around the camp and continued his ride in the night. he was forced to rest and sleep a while toward morning, but shortly after daylight he went forward again to warn he knew not whom. two or three hours later he saw two horsemen on the horizon, and he rode toward them. he knew that if they should prove to be mexicans old jack was swift enough to carry him out of reach. but he soon saw that they were texans, and he hailed them. the two men stopped and watched him as he approached. the fact that he rode a horse without saddle or bridle was sufficient to attract their attention, and they saw, too, that he was wild in appearance, with long, uncombed hair and torn clothing. they were hunters who had come out from the little town of refugio. ned hailed them again when he came closer. "you are texans and friends?" he said. "yes, we are texans and friends," replied the older of the two men. "who are you?" "my name is fulton, edward fulton, and i come from the alamo." "the alamo? how could that be? how could you get out?" "i was sent out on an errand by colonel crockett, a fictitious errand for the purpose of saving me, i now believe. but i fell at once into the hands of santa anna. the next morning the alamo was taken by storm, but every texan in it died in its defence. i saw it done." then he told to them the same tale that mrs. dickinson had told to the panther and his little party, adding also that a large mexican force was undoubtedly very near. "then you've come just in time," said the older man. "we've heard that a big force under general urrea was heading for the settlements near the coast, and captain king and twenty-five or thirty men are now at refugio to take the people away. we'll hurry there with your news and we'll try to get you a saddle and bridle, too." "for which i'll be thankful," said ned. but he was really more thankful for human companionship than anything else. he tingled with joy to be with the texans again, and during the hours that they were riding to refugio he willingly answered the ceaseless questions of the two men, oldham and jackson, who wanted to know everything that had happened at the alamo. when they reached refugio they found there captain king with less than thirty men who had been sent by fannin, as jackson had said, to bring away the people. ned was taken at once to king, who had gathered his men in the little plaza. he saw that the soldiers were not texans, that is, men who had long lived in texas, but fresh recruits from the united states, wholly unfamiliar with border ways and border methods of fighting. the town itself was an old mexican settlement with an ancient stone church or mission, after the fashion of the alamo, only smaller. "you say that you were in the alamo, and that all the defenders have fallen except you?" said the captain, looking curiously at ned. "yes," replied the boy. "and that the mexican force dispatched against the eastern settlements is much nearer than was supposed?" "yes," replied ned, "and as proof of my words there it is now." he had suddenly caught the gleam of lances in a wood a little distance to the west of the town, and he knew that the mexican cavalry, riding ahead of the main army, was at hand. it was a large force, too, one with which the little band of recruits could not possibly cope in the open. captain king seemed dazed, but ned, glancing at the church, remembered the alamo. every spanish church or mission was more or less of a fortress, and he exclaimed: "the church, captain, the church! we can hold it against the cavalry!" "good!" cried the captain. "an excellent idea!" they rushed for the church and ned followed. old jack did not get the saddle and bridle that had been promised to him. when the boy leaped from his back he snatched off the halter of withes and shouted loudly to him: "go!" it pained him to abandon his horse a second time under compulsion, but there was no choice. old jack galloped away as if he knew what he ought to do, and then ned, running into the church with the others, helped them to bar the doors. the church was a solid building of stone with a flat roof, and with many loopholes made long ago as a defence against the indians. ned heard the cavalry thundering into the village as they barred the doors, and then he and half a dozen men ran to the roof. lying down there, they took aim at the charging horsemen. these were raw recruits, but they knew how to shoot. their rifles flashed and four or five saddles were emptied. the men below were also firing from the loopholes, and the front rank of the mexican cavalry was cut down by the bullets. the whole force turned at a shout from an officer, and galloped to the shelter of some buildings. ned estimated that they were two hundred in number, and he surmised that young urrea led them. he descended from the roof and talked with king. the men understood their situation, but they were exultant. they had beaten off the enemy's cavalry, and they felt that the final victory must be theirs. but ned had been in the alamo, and he knew that the horsemen had merely hoped to surprise and overtake them with a dash. stone fortresses are not taken by cavalry. he was sure that the present force would remain under cover until the main army came up with cannon. he suggested to captain king that he send a messenger to fannin for help. king thought wisely of the suggestion and chose jackson, who slipped out of the church, escaped through an oak forest and disappeared. ned then made a careful examination of the church, which was quite a strong building with a supply of water inside and some dried corn. the men had brought rations also with them, and they were amply supplied for a siege of several days. but ned, already become an expert in this kind of war, judged that it would not last so long. he believed that the mexicans, flushed by the taking of the alamo, would push matters. king, lacking experience, leaned greatly on young fulton. the men, who believed implicitly every word that he had said, regarded him almost with superstition. he alone of the defenders had come alive out of that terrible charnel house, the alamo. "i suspect," said king, "that the division you saw is under general urrea." "very probably," said ned. "of course, santa anna, no longer having any use for his army in san antonio, can send large numbers of troops eastward." "which means that we'll have a hard time defending this place," said king gloomily. "unless fannin sends a big force to our help." "i'm not so sure that he'll send enough," said king. "his men are nearly all fresh from the states, and they know nothing of the country. it's hard for him to tell what to do. we started once to the relief of the alamo, but our ammunition wagon broke down and we could not get our cannon across the san antonio river. things don't seem to be going right with us." ned was silent. his thoughts turned back to the alamo. and so fannin and his men had started but had never come! truly "things were going wrong!" but perhaps it was just as well. the victims would have only been more numerous, and fannin's men were saved to fight elsewhere for texas. he heard a rattle of musketry, and through one of the loopholes he saw that the mexican cavalry in the wood had opened a distant fire. only a few of the bullets reached the church, and they fell spent against the stones. ned saw that very little harm was likely to come from such a fire, but he believed it would be wise to show the mexicans that the defenders were fully awake. "have you any specially good riflemen?" he asked king. "several." "suppose you put them at the loopholes and see if they can't pick off some of those mexican horsemen. it would have a most healthy effect." six young men came forward, took aim with their long barreled rifles, and at king's command fired. three of the saddles were emptied, and there was a rapid movement of the mexicans, who withdrew further into the wood. the defenders reloaded and waited. ned knew better than captain king or any of his men the extremely dangerous nature of their position. since the vanguard was already here the mexican army must be coming on rapidly, and this was no alamo. nor were these raw recruits defenders of an alamo. he saw presently a man, holding a white handkerchief on the end of a lance, ride out from the wood. ned recognized him at once. it was young urrea. as ned had suspected, he was the leader of the cavalry for his uncle, the general. "what do you think he wants?" asked king. "he will demand our surrender, but even if we were to yield it is likely that we should be put to death afterward." "i have no idea of surrendering under any circumstances. do you speak spanish?" "oh, yes," said ned, seizing the opportunity. "then, as i can't, you do the talking for us, and tell it to him straight and hard that we're going to fight." ned climbed upon the roof, and sat with only his head showing above the parapet, while urrea rode slowly forward, carrying the lance and the white flag jauntily. ned could not keep from admiring his courage, as the white flag, even, in such a war as this might prove no protection. he stopped at a distance of about thirty yards and called loudly in spanish: "within the church there! i wish to speak to you!" ned stood up, his entire figure now being revealed, and replied: "i have been appointed spokesman for our company. what do you want?" urrea started slightly in his saddle, and then regarded ned with a look of mingled irony and hatred. "and so," he said, "our paths cross again. you escaped us at the alamo. why general santa anna spared you then i do not know, but he is not here to give new orders concerning you!" "what do you want?" repeated ned. "we want the church, yourself and all the other bandits who are within it." ned's face flushed at urrea's contemptuous words and manner, and his heart hardened into a yet deeper hatred of the mexicans. but he controlled his voice and replied evenly. "and if we should surrender, what then?" "the mercy of the illustrious general santa anna, whatever it may be." "i saw his mercy at the alamo," replied ned, "and we want none of it. nor would we surrender, even if we could trust your most illustrious general santa anna." "then take your fate," said urrea. "since you were at the alamo you know what befell the defenders there, and this place, mostly in ruins, is not nearly so strong. adios!" "adios!" said ned, speaking in a firm tone. but he felt that there was truth in urrea's words. little was left of the mission but its strong walls. nevertheless, they might hold them. "what did he say?" asked king. "he demanded our surrender." "on what terms?" "whatever santa anna might decree, and if you had seen the red flag of no quarter waving in sight of the alamo you would know his decree." "and your reply?" "i told him that we meant to hold the place." "good enough," said king. "now we will go back to business. i wish that we had more ammunition." "fannin's men may bring plenty," said ned. "and now, if you don't mind, captain king, i'm going to sleep down there at the foot of the wall, and to-night i'll join the guard." "do as you wish," said king, "you know more about texas and these mexicans than any of us." "i'd suggest a very thorough watch when night comes. wake me up about midnight, won't you?" ned lay down in the place that he had chosen. it was only the middle of the afternoon, but he had become so inured to hardship that he slept quickly. several shots were fired before twilight came, but they did not awaken him. at midnight king, according to his request, took him by the shoulder and he stood up. "nothing of importance has happened," said king. "you can see the camp fires of the mexicans in the wood, but as far as we can tell they are not making any movement." "probably they are content to wait for the main force," said ned. "looks like it," said king. "if you have no objection, captain," said ned, "i think i'll go outside and scout about a little." "good idea, i think," said king. they opened the door a moment and ned slipped forth. the night was quite dark and, with the experience of border work that he was rapidly acquiring, he had little fear of being caught by the mexicans. he kept his eye on the light burning in the wood and curved in a half circle to the right. the few houses that made up the village were all dark, but his business was with none of them. he intended to see, if he could, whether the main mexican force was approaching. if it should prove to be at hand with the heavy cannon there would be no possible chance of holding the mission, and they must get away. he continued in his wide curve, knowing that in this case the longest way around was the best and safest, and he gradually passed into a stretch of chaparral beyond the town. crossing it, he came into a meadow, and then he suddenly heard the soft pad of feet. he sought to spring back into the chaparral, but a huge dim figure bore down upon him, and then his heart recovered its normal beat when he saw that it was only old jack. ned stroked the great muzzle affectionately, but he was compelled to put away his friend. "no, faithful comrade," he said. "i can't take you with me. i'd like to do it, but there's no room in a church for a horse as big as you are. go now! go at once, or the mexicans will get you!" he struck the horse smartly on the jaw. old jack looked at him reproachfully, but turned and trotted away from the town. ned continued his scout. this proof of affection from a dumb brute cheered him. an hour's cautious work brought him to the far side of the wood. as well as he could judge, nearly all the mexican troopers were asleep around two fires, but they had posted sentinels who walked back and forth, calling at intervals "sentinela alerte" to one another. obviously there had been no increase in their force. they were sufficient to maintain a blockade of the church, but too few to surround it completely. he went two or three miles to the west and, seeing no evidence that the main force was approaching, he decided to return to the church. his original curve had taken him by the south side of the wood, and he would return by the north side in order that his examination might be complete. he walked rapidly, as the night was far advanced, and the sky was very clear, with bright stars twinkling in myriads. he did not wish day to catch him outside the mission. it was a prairie country, with patches of forest here and there, and as he crossed from one wood to another he was wholly without cover. he was within a mile of the mission when he heard the faint tread of horses' hoofs, and he concluded that old jack, contrary to orders, was coming forward to meet him again. he paused, but the faint tread suddenly became rapid and heavy. a half dozen horsemen who had ridden into the prairie had caught sight of him and now they were galloping toward him. the brightness of the night showed ned at once that they were mexican cavalrymen, and as he was on foot he was at a great disadvantage. he ran at full speed for the nearest grove. the mexicans fired several musket shots at him, but the bullets all went wild. he did not undertake a reply, as he was straining every effort to reach the trees. several pistols also were emptied at him, but he yet remained unhurt. nevertheless, the horsemen were coming alarmingly near. he heard the thunder of hoofs in his ears, and he heard also a quick hiss like that of a snake. ned knew that the hissing sound was made by a lasso, and as he dodged he felt the coil, thrown in vain, slipping from his shoulders. he whirled about and fired at the man who had thrown the lasso. the rider uttered a cry, fell backward on his horse, and then to the ground. as ned turned for the shot he saw that urrea was the leader of the horsemen. whether urrea had recognized him or not he did not know, but the fact that he was there increased his apprehension. he made a mighty effort and leaped the next instant into the protection of the trees and thickets. fortune favored him now. a wood alone would not have protected him, but here were vines and bushes also. he turned off at a sharp angle and ran as swiftly and with as little noise as he could. he heard the horses floundering in the forest, and the curses of their riders. he ran a hundred yards further and, coming to a little gully, lay down in it and reloaded his rifle. then he stayed there until he could regain his breath and strength. while he lay he heard the mexicans beating up the thickets, and urrea giving sharp orders. ned knew that his hiding place must soon be discovered, and he began to consider what would be the best movement to make next. his heart had now returned to its normal beat, and he felt that he was good for another fine burst of speed. he heard the trampling of the horses approaching, and then the voice of urrea telling the others that he was going straight ahead and to follow him. evidently they had beaten up the rest of the forest, and now they were bound to come upon him. ned sprang from the gully, ran from the wood and darted across the prairie toward the next little grove. he was halfway toward the coveted shelter when urrea caught sight of him, gave a shout, and fired his pistol. ned, filled with hatred of urrea, fired in return. but the bullet, instead of striking the horseman, struck the horse squarely in the head. the horse fell instantly, and urrea, hurled violently over his head, lay still. ned caught it all in a fleeting glance, and in a few more steps he gained the second wood. he did not know how much urrea was hurt, nor did he care. he had paid back a little, too. he was sure, also, that the pursuit would be less vigorous, now that its leader was disabled. the second grove did not contain so many vines and bushes, but, hiding behind a tree there, ned saw the horsemen hold off. without urrea to urge them on they were afraid of the rifle that the fugitive used so well. two, also, had stopped to tend urrea, and ned decided that the others would not now enter the grove. he was right in his surmise. the horsemen rode about at a safe distance from the trees. ned, taking his time, reloaded his rifle again and departed for the mission. there was now fairly good cover all the way, but he heard other troops of mexicans riding about, and blowing trumpets as signals. no doubt the shots had been heard at the main camp, and many men were seeking their cause. but ned, fortunately for himself, was now like the needle in the haystack. while the trumpets signaled and the groups of mexican horsemen rode into one another he stole back to the old mission and knocked upon the door with the butt of his rifle. answering king's questions through the loophole, he was admitted quickly. "the main army hasn't come up yet," he said, in reply to the eager inquiries of the defenders. "fannin's men may get here in time, and if they are in sufficient force to beat off the cavalry detachment i suggest that we abandon the mission before we are caught in a trap, and retreat toward fannin. if we linger the whole mexican army will be around us." "sounds right," said king, "but we've got to hear from fannin first. now you look pretty tired, fulton. suppose you roll up in some blankets there by the wall and take a nap." "i don't want to sleep now," said ned. "you remember that i slept until nearly midnight. but i would like to stretch out a while. it's not very restful to be hunted through woods by mexicans, even if you do get away." ned lay by the wall upon the blankets and watched the sun go slowly up the arch of the heavens. it seemed a hard fate to him that he should again be trapped thus in an old mission. nor did he have here the strength and support of the great borderers like bowie and crockett. he missed them most of all now. the day passed slowly and with an occasional exchange of shots that did little harm. toward the twilight one of the sentinels on the wall uttered a great and joyous shout. "the reinforcements!" he cried. "see, our friends are coming!" ned climbed upon the wall and saw a force of more than a hundred men, obviously texans, approaching. they answered the hail of the sentinel and came on more swiftly. his eyes turned to the wood, in which the mexican camp yet lay. their cavalry would still outnumber the texan force two or three to one, but the mexicans invariably demanded greater odds than that before they would attack the texans. ned saw no stir in the wood. not a shot was fired as the new men came forward and were joyously admitted to the church. the men were one hundred and twenty in number, led by colonel ward, who by virtue of his rank now commanded all the defenders. as soon as they had eaten and rested a council, at which ned was present, was held. king had already told the story of young fulton to ward, and that officer looked very curiously at ned as he came forward. he asked him briefly about the alamo, and ned gave him the usual replies. then he told of what he had seen before he joined king. "how large do you think this force was?" asked ward. "about fifteen hundred men." "and we've a hundred and fifty here. you were not much more than a hundred and fifty in the alamo, and you held it two weeks against thousands. why should we retreat?" "but the alamo fell at last," said ned, "and this refugio mission is not so defensible as the alamo was." "you think, then, we should retreat?" "i do. i'm sure the place cannot be held against a large army." there was much discussion. ned saw that all the men of the new force were raw recruits from the states like king's. many of them were mere boys, drawn to texas by the love of adventure. they showed more curiosity than alarm, and it was evident to ned that they felt able to defeat any number of mexicans. ned, called upon again for his opinion, urged that they withdraw from the church and the town at once, but neither ward nor king was willing to make a retreat in the night. they did not seem especially anxious to withdraw at all, but finally agreed to do so in the morning. ned left the council, depressed and uneasy. he felt that his countrymen held the mexicans too lightly. were other tragedies to be added to that of the alamo? he was no egotist, but he was conscious of his superiority to all those present in the grave affairs with which they were now dealing. he took his rifle and went upon the wall, where he resolved to watch all through the night. he saw the lights in the wood where the mexicans were camped, but darkness and silence prevailed everywhere else. he had no doubt that young urrea had sent messengers back to hurry up the main force. he smiled to himself at the thought of urrea. he was sure that the young mexican had sustained no fatal injury, but he must have painful wounds. and ned, with the alamo as vivid as ever in his mind, was glad that he had inflicted them. midnight came, and ward told ned that he need not watch any longer when the second relay of sentinels appeared. but the boy desired to remain and ward had no objection. "but you'll be sleepy," he said, in a good-humored tone, "when we start at the break of day, and you won't have much chance to rest on a long march." "i'll have to take the risk," said ned. "i feel that i ought to be watching." toward morning the men in the mission were awakened and began to prepare for the march. they made considerable noise as they talked and adjusted their packs, but ned paid no attention to them. he was listening instead to a faint sound approaching the town from the south. no one in the church or on the walls heard it but himself, but he knew that it was steadily growing louder. ned, moreover, could tell the nature of that sound, and as it swelled his heart sank within him. the first spear of light, herald of dawn, appeared in the east and ward called out cheerfully: "well, we are all ready to go now." "it is too late," said ned. "the whole mexican army is here." chapter xvi fannin's camp when ned made his startling announcement he leaped down lightly from the wall. "if you will look through the loophole there," he said to colonel ward, "you will see a great force only a few hundred yards away. the man on the large horse in front is general urrea, who commands them. he is one of santa anna's most trusted generals. his nephew, captain urrea, led the cavalry who besieged us yesterday and last night." captain ward looked, but the mexicans turned into the wood and were hidden from sight. then the belief became strong among the recruits that ned was mistaken. this was only a little force that had come, and ward and king shared their faith. ward, against ned's protest, sent king and thirteen men out to scout. ned sadly watched them go. he was one of the youngest present, but he was first in experience, and he knew that he had seen aright. general urrea and the main army were certainly at hand. but he deemed it wiser to say nothing more. instead, he resumed his place on the wall, and kept sharp watch on the point where he thought the mexican force lay. king and his scouts were already out of sight. ned suddenly heard the sound of shots, and he saw puffs of smoke from the wood. then a great shout arose and mexican cavalry dashed from the edge of the forest. some of the other watchers thought the mission was about to be attacked, but the horsemen bore down upon another point to the northward. ned divined instantly that they had discovered king and his men and were surrounding them. he leaped once more from the wall and shouted the alarm to ward. "the men out there are surrounded," he cried. "they will have no chance without help!" ward was brave enough, and his men, though lacking skill, were brave enough, too. at his command they threw open the gate of the mission and rushed out to the relief of their comrades. ned was by the side of ward, near the front. as they appeared in the opening they heard a great shouting, and a powerful detachment of cavalry galloped toward their right, while an equally strong force of infantry moved on their left. the recruits were outnumbered at least five to one, but in such a desperate situation they did not blench. "take good aim with your rifles," shouted ward. and they did. a shower of bullets cut gaps in the mexican line, both horse and foot. many riderless horses galloped through the ranks of the foe, adding to the confusion. but the mexican numbers were so great that they continued to press the texans. young urrea, his head in thick bandages, was again with the cavalry, and animated by more than one furious impulse he drove them on. it became evident now even to the rawest that the whole mexican army was present. it spread out to a great distance, and enfolded the texans on three sides, firing hundreds of muskets and keeping up a great shouting, ned's keen ear also detected other firing off to the right, and he knew that it was king and his men making a hopeless defence against overpowering numbers. "we cannot reach king," groaned ward. "we have no earthly chance of doing so," said ned, "and i think, colonel, that your own force will have a hard fight to get back inside the mission." the truth of ned's words was soon evident to everyone. it was only the deadly texan rifles that kept the mexican cavalry from galloping over them and crushing them at once. the mexican fire itself, coming from muskets of shorter range, did little damage. yet the texans were compelled to load and pull trigger very fast, as they retreated slowly upon the mission. at last they reached the great door and began to pass rapidly inside. now the mexicans pressed closer, firing heavy volleys. a score of the best texan marksmen whirled and sent their bullets at the pursuing mexicans with such good aim that a dozen saddles were emptied, and the whole force reeled back. then all the texans darted inside, and the great door was closed and barricaded. many of the men sank down, breathless from their exertions, regardless of the mexican bullets that were pattering upon the church. ward leaned against the wall, and wiped the perspiration from his face. "my god!" he exclaimed. "what has become of king?" there was no answer. the mexicans ceased to fire and shout, and retreated toward the wood. ward was destined never to know what had become of king and his men, but ned soon learned the terrible facts, and they only hardened him still further. the thirteen had been compelled to surrender to overwhelming numbers. then they were immediately tied to trees and killed, where their skeletons remained upright until the texans found them. "you were right, fulton," said ward, after a long silence. "the mexican army was there, as we have plenty of evidence to show." he smiled sadly, as he wiped the smoke and perspiration from his face. ned did not reply, but watched through a loophole. he had seen a glint of bronze in the wood, and presently he saw the mexicans pushing a cannon from cover. "they have artillery," he said to ward. "see the gun. but i don't think it can damage our walls greatly. they never did much with the cannon at the alamo. when they came too close there, we shot down all their cannoneers, and we can do the same here." ward chose the best sharpshooters, posting them at the loopholes and on the walls. they quickly slew the mexicans who tried to man the gun, and general urrea was forced to withdraw it to such a distance that its balls and shells had no effect whatever upon the strong walls of the church. there was another period of silence, but the watchers in the old mission saw that much movement was going on in the wood and presently they beheld the result. the mexican army charged directly upon the church, carrying in its center men with heavy bars of wood to be used in smashing in the door. but they yielded once more to the rapid fire of the texan rifles, and did not succeed in reaching the building. those who bore the logs and bars dropped them, and fled out of range. a great cheer burst from the young recruits. they thought victory complete already, but ned knew that the mexicans would not abandon the enterprise. general urrea, after another futile charge, repulsed in the same deadly manner, withdrew some distance, but posted a strong line of sentinels about the church. having much food and water the recruits rejoiced again and thought themselves secure, but ned noticed a look of consternation on the face of ward, and he divined the cause. "it must be the ammunition, colonel," he said in a whisper. "it is," replied ward. "we have only three or four rounds left. we could not possibly repel another attack." "then," said young fulton, "there is nothing to do but for us to slip out at night, and try to cut our way through." "that is so," said ward. "the mexican general doubtless will not expect any such move on our part, and we may get away." he said nothing of his plan to the recruits until the darkness came, and then the state of the powder horns and the bullet pouches was announced. most of the men had supposed that they alone were suffering from the shortage, and something like despair came over them when they found that they were practically without weapons. they were more than willing to leave the church, as soon as the night deepened, and seek refuge over the prairie. "you think that we can break through?" said ward to ned. "i have no doubt of it," replied ned, "but in any event it seems to me, colonel, that we ought to try it. all the valor and devotion of the men in the alamo did not suffice to save them. we cannot hold the place against a determined assault." "that is undoubtedly true," said ward, "and flushed by the success that they have had elsewhere it seems likely to me that the mexicans will make such an attack very soon." "in any event," said ned, "we are isolated here, cut off from fannin, and exposed to imminent destruction." "we start at midnight," said ward. ned climbed upon the walls, and examined all the surrounding country. he saw lights in the wood, and now and then he discerned the figures of mexican horsemen, riding in a circle about the church, members of the patrol that had been left by general urrea. he did not think it a difficult thing to cut through this patrol, but the texans, in their flight, must become disorganized to a certain extent. nevertheless it was the only alternative. the men were drawn up at the appointed time, and ward told them briefly what they were to do. they must keep as well together as possible, and the plan was to make their way to victoria, where they expected to rejoin fannin. they gave calabashes of water and provisions to several men too badly wounded to move, and left them to the mercy of the mexicans, a mercy that did not exist, as urrea's troops massacred them the moment they entered the church. luckily it was a dark night, and ned believed that they had more than half a chance of getting away. the great door was thrown silently open, and, with a moving farewell to their wounded and disabled comrades, they filed silently out, leaving the door open behind them. then the column of nearly one hundred and fifty men slipped away, every man treading softly. they had chosen a course that lay directly away from the mexican army, but they did not expect to escape without an alarm, and it came in five minutes. a mexican horseman, one of the patrol, saw the dark file, fired a shot and gave an alarm. in an instant all the sentinels were firing and shouting, and urrea's army in the wood was awakening. but the texans now pressed forward rapidly. their rifles cracked, quickly cutting a path through the patrol, and before urrea could get up his main force they were gone through the forest and over the prairie. knowing that the whole country was swarming with the mexican forces, they chose a circuitous course through forests and swamps and pressed on until daylight. some of the mexicans on horseback followed them for a while, but a dozen of the best texan shots were told off to halt them. when three or four saddles were emptied the remainder of the mexicans disappeared and they pursued their flight in peace. morning found them in woods and thickets by the banks of a little creek of clear water. they drank from the stream, ate of their cold food, and rested. ned and some others left the wood and scouted upon the prairie. they saw no human being and returned to their own people, feeling sure that they were safe from pursuit for the present. yet the texans felt no exultation. they had been compelled to retreat before the mexicans, and they could not forget king and his men, and those whom they had left behind in the church. ned, in his heart, knowing the mexicans so well, did not believe that a single one of them had been saved. they walked the whole day, making for the town of victoria, where they expected to meet fannin, and shortly before night they stopped in a wood, footsore and exhausted. again their camp was pitched on the banks of a little creek and some of the hunters shot two fine fat deer further up the stream. seeking as much cheer as they could they built fires, and roasted the deer. the spirits of the young recruits rose. they would meet fannin to-morrow or the next day and they would avenge the insult that the mexicans had put upon them. they were eager for a new action in which the odds should not be so great against them, and they felt sure of victory. then, posting their sentinels, they slept soundly. but ned did not feel so confident. toward morning he rose from his blankets. yet he saw nothing. the prairie was bare. there was not a single sign of pursuit. he was surprised. he believed that at least the younger urrea with the cavalry would follow. ned now surmised the plan that the enemy had carried out. instead of following the texans through the forests and swamps they had gone straight to victoria, knowing that the fugitives would make for that point. where fannin was he could not even guess, but it was certain that ward and his men were left practically without ammunition to defend themselves as best they could against a horde of foes. the hunted texans sought the swamps of the guadalupe, where mexican cavalry could not follow them, but where they were soon overtaken by skirmishers. hope was now oozing from the raw recruits. there seemed to be no place in the world for them. hunted here and there they never found rest. but the most terrible fact of all was the lack of ammunition. only a single round for every man was left, and they replied sparingly to the mexican skirmishers. they lay now in miry woods, and on the other side of them flowed the wide and yellow river. the men sought, often in vain, for firm spots on which they might rest. the food, like the ammunition, was all gone, and they were famished and weak. the scouts reported that the mexicans were increasing every hour. it was obvious to ned that ward must surrender. what could men without ammunition do against many times their number, well armed? he resolved that he would not be taken with them, and shortly before day he pulled through the mud to the edge of the guadalupe. he undressed and made his clothes and rifle into a bundle. he had been very careful of his own ammunition, and he had a half dozen rounds left, which he also tied into the bundle. then shoving a fallen log into the water he bestrode it, holding his precious pack high and dry. paddling with one hand he was able to direct the log in a diagonal course across the stream. he toiled through another swamp on that shore, and, coming out upon a little prairie, dressed again. he looked back toward the swamp in which the texans lay, but he saw no lights and he heard no sounds there. he knew that within a short time they would be prisoners of the mexicans. everything seemed to be working for the benefit of santa anna. the indecision of the texans and the scattering of their forces enabled the mexicans to present overwhelming forces at all points. it seemed to ned that fortune, which had worked in their favor until the capture of san antonio, was now working against them steadily and with overwhelming power. he gathered himself together as best he could, and began his journey southward. he believed that fannin would be at goliad or near it. once more that feeling of vengeance hardened within him. the tremendous impression of the alamo had not faded a particle, and now the incident of ward, refugio and the swamps of the guadalupe was cumulative. remembering what he had seen he did not believe that a single one of ward's men would be spared when they were taken as they surely would be. there were humane men among the mexicans, like almonte, but the ruthless policy of santa anna was to spare no one, and santa anna held all the power. he held on toward goliad, passing through alternate regions of forest and prairie, and he maintained a fair pace until night. he had not eaten since morning, and all his venison was gone, but strangely enough he was not hungry. when the darkness was coming he sat down in one of the little groves so frequent in that region, and he was conscious of a great weariness. his bones ached. but it was not the ache that comes from exertion. it seemed to go to the very marrow. it became a pain rather than exhaustion. he noticed that everything about him appeared unreal. the trees and the earth itself wavered. his head began to ache and his stomach was weak. had the finest of food been presented to him he could not have eaten it. he had an extraordinary feeling of depression and despair. ned knew what was the matter with him. he was suffering either from overwhelming nervous and physical exhaustion, or he had contracted malaria in the swamps of the guadalupe. despite every effort of the will, he began to shake with cold, and he knew that a chill was coming. he had retained his blankets, his frontiersman's foresight not deserting him, and now, knowing that he could not continue his flight for the present, he sought the deepest part of the thicket. he crept into a place so dense that it would have been suited for an animal's den, and lying down there he wrapped the blankets tightly about himself, his rifle and his ammunition. in spite of his clothing and the warm blankets he grew colder and colder. his teeth chattered and he shivered all over. he would not have minded that so much, but his head ached with great violence, and the least light hurt his eyes. it seemed to him the culmination. never had he been more miserable, more lost of both body and soul. the pain in his head was so violent that life was scarcely worth the price. he sank by and by into a stupor. he was remotely conscious that he was lying in a thicket, somewhere in boundless texas, but it did not really matter. cougars or bears might come there to find him, but he was too sick to raise a hand against them. besides, he did not care. a million mexicans might be beating up those thickets for him, and they would be sure to find him. well, what of it? they would shoot him, and he would merely go at once to some other planet, where he would be better off than he was now. it seems that fate reserves her severest ordeals for the strong and the daring, as if she would respond to the challenges they give. it seems also that often she brings them through the test, as if she likes the courage and enterprise that dare her, the all-powerful, to combat. ned's intense chill abated. he ceased to shake so violently, and after a while he did not shake at all. then fever came. intolerable heat flowed through every vein, and his head was ready to burst. after a while violent perspiration broke out all over him, and then he became unconscious. ned lay all night in the thicket, wrapped in the blankets, and breathing heavily. once or twice he half awoke, and remembered things dimly, but these periods were very brief and he sank back into stupor. when he awoke to stay awake the day was far advanced, and he felt an overwhelming lassitude. he slowly unwound himself from his blankets and looked at his hand. it was uncommonly white, and it seemed to him to be as weak as that of a child. he crept out of the thicket and rose to his feet. he was attacked by dizziness and clutched a bush for support. his head still ached, though not with the violence of the night before, but he was conscious that he had become a very weak and poor specimen of the human being. everything seemed very far away, impossible to be reached. he gathered strength enough to roll up his blankets and shoulder his rifle. then he looked about a little. there was the same alternation of woods and prairie, devoid of any human being. he did not expect to see any texans, unless, by chance, fannin came marching that way, but a detachment of mexican lancers might stumble upon him at any moment. the thought, however, caused him no alarm. he felt so much weakness and depression that the possibility of capture or death could not add to it. young fulton was not hungry,--the chill and following fever had taken his appetite away so thoroughly,--but he felt that he must eat. he found some early berries in the thickets and they restored his strength a little, but the fare was so thin and unsubstantial that he decided to look for game. he could never reach fannin or anybody else in his present reduced condition. he saw a line of oaks, which he knew indicated the presence of a water-course, probably one of the shallow creeks, so numerous in eastern texas, and he walked toward it, still dizzy and his footsteps dragging. his head was yet aching, and the sun, which was now out in full brightness, made it worse, but he persisted, and, after an interminable time, he reached the shade of the oaks, which, as he surmised, lined both sides of a creek. he drank of the water, rested a while, and then began a search of the oaks. he was looking for squirrels, which he knew abounded in these trees, and, after much slow and painful walking, he shot a fine fat one among the boughs. then followed the yet more mighty task of kindling a fire with sticks and tinder, but just when he was completely exhausted, and felt that he must fail, the spark leaped up, set fire to the white ash that he had scraped with his knife, and in a minute later a good fire was blazing. he cooked the tenderest parts of the squirrel and ate, still forcing his appetite. then he carefully put out the fire and went a mile further up the creek. he felt stronger, but he knew that he was not yet in any condition for a long journey. he was most intent now upon guarding against a return of the chill. it was not the right time for one to be ill. again he sought a place in a thicket, like an animal going to its den, and, wrapping himself tightly in the blankets, lay down. he watched with anxiety for the first shiver of the dreaded chill. once or twice imagination made him feel sure that it had come, but it always passed quickly. his body remained warm, and, while he was still watching for the chill, he fell asleep, and slept soundly all through the night. the break of day aroused him. he felt strong and well, and he was in a pleasant glow, because he knew now that the chill would not come. it had been due to overtaxed nerves, and there was no malaria in his system. he hunted again among the big trees until he found a squirrel on one of the high boughs. he fired at it and missed. he found another soon and killed it at the first shot. but the miss had been a grave matter. he had only four bullets left. he took them out and looked at them, little shining pellets of lead. his life depended upon these four, and he must not miss again. it took him an hour to start his fire, and he ate only half of the squirrel, putting the remainder into his bullet pouch for future needs. then, much invigorated, he resumed his vague journey. but he was compelled very soon to go slowly and with the utmost caution. there were even times when he had to stop and hide. mexican cavalry appeared upon the prairies, first in small groups and then in a detachment of about three hundred. their course and ned's was the same, and he knew then that he was going in the right direction. fannin was surely somewhere ahead. but it was most troublesome traveling for ned. if they saw him they could easily ride him down, and what chance would he have with only four bullets in his pouch? or rather, what chance would he have if the pouch contained a hundred? the only thing that favored him was the creek which ran in the way that he wanted to go. he kept in the timber that lined its banks, and, so long as he had this refuge, he felt comparatively safe, since the mexicans, obviously, were not looking for him. yet they often came perilously near. once, a large band rode down to the creek to water their horses, when ned was not fifty feet distant. he instantly lay flat among some bushes, and did not move. he could hear the horses blowing the water back with their noses, as they drank. when the horses were satisfied, the cavalrymen turned and rode away, passing so near that it seemed to him they had only to look down and see him lying among the bushes. but they went on, and, when they were out of sight, he rose and continued his flight through the timber. but this alternate fleeing and dodging was most exhausting work, and before the day was very old he decided that he would lie down in a thicket, and postpone further flight until night. just when he had found such a place he heard the faint sound of distant firing. he put his ear to the earth, and then the crackle of rifles came more distinctly. his ear, experienced now, told him that many men must be engaged, and he was sure that fannin and the mexican army had come into contact. young fulton's heart began to throb. the dark vision of the alamo came before him again. all the hate that he felt for the mexicans flamed up. he must be there with fannin, fighting against the hordes of santa anna. he rose and ran toward the firing. he saw from the crest of a hillock a wide plain with timber on one side and a creek on the other. the center of the plain was a shallow valley, and there the firing was heavy. ned saw many flashes and puffs of smoke, and presently he heard the thud of cannon. then he saw near him mexican cavalry galloping through the timber. he could not doubt any longer that a battle was in progress. his excitement increased, and he ran at full speed through the bushes and grass into the plain, which he now saw took the shape of a shallow saucer. the firing indicated that the defensive force stood in the center of the saucer, that is, in the lowest and worst place. a terrible fear assailed young fulton, as he ran. could it be possible that fannin also was caught in a trap, here on the open prairie, with the mexicans in vastly superior numbers on the high ground around him? he remembered, too, that fannin's men were raw recruits like those with ward, and his fear, which was not for himself, increased as he ran. he noticed that there was no firing from one segment of the ring in the saucer, and he directed his course toward it. as soon as he saw horses and men moving he threw up his hands and cried loudly over and over again: "i'm a friend! do not shoot!" he saw a rifle raised and aimed at him, but a hand struck it down. a few minutes later he sprang breathless into the camp, and friendly hands held him up as he was about to pitch forward with exhaustion. his breath and poise came back in a few moments, and he looked about him. he had made no mistake. he was with fannin's force, and it was already pressed hard by urrea's army. even as he drew fresh, deep breaths he saw a heavy mass of mexican cavalry gallop from the wood, wheel and form a line between fannin and the creek, the only place where the besieged force could obtain water. "who are you?" asked an officer, advancing toward ned. young fulton instantly recognized fannin. "my name is edward fulton, you will recall me, colonel," he replied. "i was in the alamo, but went out the day before it fell. i was taken by the mexicans, but escaped, fled across the prairie, and was in the mission at refugio when some of your men under colonel ward came to the help of king." "i have heard that the church was abandoned, but where is ward, and where are his men?" ned hesitated and fannin read the answer in his eyes. "you cannot tell me so!" he exclaimed. "i'm afraid that they will all be taken," said ned. "they had no ammunition when i slipped away, and the mexicans were following them. there was no possibility of escape." fannin paled. but he pressed his lips firmly together for a moment and then said to ned: "keep this to yourself, will you? our troops are young and without experience. it would discourage them too much." "of course," said ned. "but meanwhile i wish to fight with you." "there will be plenty of chance," said fannin. "hark to it!" the sound of firing swelled on all sides of them, and above it rose the triumphant shouts of the mexicans. chapter xvii the sad surrender ned took another look at the beleaguered force, and what he saw did not encourage him. the men, crowded together, were standing in a depression seven or eight feet below the surface of the surrounding prairie. near by was an ammunition wagon with a broken axle. the men themselves, three ranks deep, were in a hollow square, with the cannon at the angles and the supply wagons in the center. every face looked worn and anxious, but they did not seem to have lost heart. yet, as ned had foreseen, this was quite a different force from that which had held the alamo so long, and against so many. most of the young faces were not yet browned by the burning sun of texas. drawn by the reports of great adventure they had come from far places, and each little company had its own name. there were the "grays" from new orleans, the "mustangs" from kentucky, the "red rovers" from alabama and others with fancy names, but altogether they numbered, with the small reinforcements that had been received, only three hundred and fifty men. ned could have shed tears, when he looked upon the force. he felt himself a veteran beside them. yet there was no lack of courage among them. they did not flinch, as the fire grew heavier, and the cannon balls whistled over their heads. ned was sure now that general urrea was around them with his whole army. the presence of the cannon indicated it, and he saw enough to know that the mexican force outnumbered the texan four or five to one. he heard the mexican trumpets pealing presently, and then he saw their infantry advancing in dark masses with heavy squadrons of cavalry on either flank. but as soon as they came within range, they were swept by the deadly fire of the texan rifles and were driven back in confusion. ned noticed that this always happened. the mexicans could never carry a texan position by a frontal attack. the texans, or those who were called the texans, shot straight and together so fast that no mexican column could withstand their hail of bullets. a second time the mexicans charged, and a second time they were driven back in the same manner. exultation spread among the recruits standing in the hollow, but they were still surrounded. the mexicans merely drew out of range and waited. then they attacked a third time, and, from all sides, charging very close, infantry and cavalry. the men in the hollow were well supplied with rifles, and their square fairly blazed. yet the mexicans pressed home the charge with a courage and tenacity that ned had never seen among them before. these were mexico's best troops, and, even when the men faltered, the officers drove them on again with the point of the sword. general urrea himself led the cavalry, and the mexicans pressed so close that the recruits saw both lance and bayonet points shining in their faces. the hollow in which the texans stood was a huge cloud of flame and smoke. ned was loading and firing so fast that the barrel of his rifle grew hot to the touch. he stood with two youths but little older than himself, and the comradeship of battle had already made them friends. but they scarcely saw the faces of one another. the little valley was filled with the smoke of their firing. they breathed it and tasted it, and it inflamed their brains. ned's experience had made him a veteran, and when he heard the thunder of the horse's hoofs and saw the lance points so near he knew that the crisis had come. "one more volley. one for your lives!" he cried to those around him. the volley was forthcoming. the rifles were discharged at the range of only a few yards into the mass of mexican cavalry. horses and men fell headlong, some pitching to the very feet of the texans and then one of the cannon poured a shower of grape shot into the midst of the wavering square. it broke and ran, bearing its general away with it, and leaving the ground cumbered with fallen men and horses. the mexican infantry was also driven back at every point, and retreated rapidly until they were out of range. under the cloud of smoke wounded men crept away. but when the cloud was wholly gone, it disclosed those who would move no more, lying on every side. the defenders had suffered also. fannin lay upon the ground, while two of his men bound up a severe wound in the thigh that he had sustained from a mexican bullet. many others had been wounded and some had been killed. most alarming of all was the announcement that the cannon could be fired only a few times more, as there was no water for the sponges when they became heated and clogged. but this discouraged only the leaders, not the recruits themselves, who had ultimate faith in their rifles. ned felt an extreme dizziness. all his old strength had not yet returned, and after such furious action and so much excitement there was a temporary collapse. he lay back on the grass, closed his eyes, and waited for the weakness to pass. he heard around him the talk and murmur of the men, and the sounds of new preparations. he heard the recruits telling one another that they had repulsed four mexican attacks, and that they could repulse four more. yet the amount of talking was not great. the fighting had been too severe and continuous to encourage volubility. most of them reloaded in silence and waited. ned felt that his weakness had passed, opened his eyes, and sat up again. he saw that the mexicans had drawn a circle of horsemen about them, but well beyond range. behind the horsemen their army waited. fannin's men were rimmed in by steel, and ned believed that urrea, after his great losses in the charges, would now wait. ned stretched himself and felt his muscles. he was strong once more and his head was clear. he did not believe that the weakness and dizziness would come again. but his tongue and throat were dry, and one of the youths who had stood with him gave him a drink from his canteen. ned would gladly have made the drink a deep one, but he denied himself, and, when he returned the canteen, its supply was diminished but little. he knew better than the giver how precious the water would become. ned was standing at the edge of the hollow, and his head was just about on a level with the surrounding prairie. after his look at the mexican circle, something whistled by his ear. it was an unpleasant sound that he knew well, one marking the passage of a bullet, and he dropped down instantly. then he cautiously raised himself up again, and, a half dozen others who had heard the shot did the same. one rose a little higher than the rest and he fell back with a cry, a bullet in his shoulder. ned was surprised and puzzled. whence had come these shots? there was the line of mexican cavalry, well out of range, and, beyond the horsemen, were the infantry. he could see nothing, but the wounded shoulder was positive proof that some enemy was near. there was a third crack, and a man fell to the bottom of the hollow, where he lay still. the bullet had gone through his head. ned saw a wreath of smoke rising from a tiny hillock, a hundred yards away, and then he saw lifted for only a moment a coppery face with high cheek bones and coarse black hair. an indian! no one could ever mistake that face for a white man's. many more shots were fired and he caught glimpses of other faces, indian in type like the first. every hillock or other inequality of the earth seemed to spout bullets, which were now striking among the texans, cooped up in the hollow, killing and wounding. but the circle of mexican horsemen did not stir. "what are they?" called fannin, who was lying upon a pallet, suffering greatly from his wound. "indians," replied ned. "indians!" exclaimed fannin in surprise. "i did not know that there were any in this part of the country." "nor did i," replied ned, "but they are surely here, colonel, and if i may make a suggestion, suppose we pick sharp-shooters to meet them." "it is the only thing to do," said fannin, and immediately the best men with the rifle were placed along the edge of the hollow. it was full time, as the fire of the red sharpshooters was creeping closer, and was doing much harm. they were campeachy indians, whom the mexicans had brought with them from their far country and, splendid stalkers and skirmishers, they were now proving their worth. better marksmen than the mexicans, naked to the waist, their dark faces inflamed with the rage to kill, they wormed themselves forward like snakes, flattened against the ground, taking advantage of every hillock or ridge, and finding many a victim in the hollow. far back, the mexican officers sitting on their horses watched their work with delighted approval. ned was not a sharpshooter like the panther or davy crockett, but he was a sharpshooter nevertheless, and, driven by the sternest of all needs, he was growing better all the time. he saw another black head raised for a moment above a hillock, and a muzzle thrust forward, but he fired first. the head dropped back, but the rifle fell from the arms and lay across the hillock. ned knew that his bullet had sped true, and he felt a savage joy. the other sharpshooters around him were also finding targets. the indian bullets still crashed into the crowded ranks in the hollow, but the white marksmen picked off one after another in the grass. the moment a red face showed itself a bullet that rarely missed was sent toward it. here was no indiscriminate shooting. no man pulled the trigger until he saw his target. ned had now fired four times, and he knew that he had not missed once. the consuming rage still possessed him, but it was for the mexicans rather than the indians against whom he was sending his bullets. surely they were numerous enough to fight the texans. they ought to be satisfied with ten to one in their favor, without bringing indians also against the tiny settlements! the fire mounted to his brain, and he looked eagerly for a fifth head. it was a singular duel between invisible antagonists. never was an entire body seen, but the crackling fire and the spurts of flame and smoke were incessant. after a while the line of fire and smoke on the prairie began to retreat slowly. the fire of the white sharpshooters had grown too hot and the indians were creeping away, leaving their dead in the grass. presently their fire ceased entirely and then that of the white marksmen ceased also. no sounds came from the mexicans, who were all out of range. in the hollow the wounded, who now numbered one-fifth of the whole, suppressed their groans, and their comrades, who bound up their hurts or gave them water, said but little. ned's own throat had become parched again, but he would not ask for another drop of water. the texans had used oxen to drag their cannon and wagons, and most of them now lay dead about the rim of the shallow crater, slain by the mexican and indian bullets. the others had been tied to the wagons to keep them, when maddened by the firing, from trampling down the texans themselves. now they still shivered with fear, and pulled at their ropes. ned felt sorry for the poor brutes. full cause had they for fright. the afternoon was waning, and he ate a little supper, followed by a single drink of water. every man received a similar drink and no more from the canteens. the coming twilight brought a coolness that was refreshing, but the indians, taking advantage of the dusk, crept forward, and began to fire again at the texans cooped up in the crater. these red sharpshooters had the advantage of always knowing the position of their enemy, while they could shift their own as they saw fit. the texan marksmen, worn and weary though they were, returned to their task. they could not see the indians, but they used an old device, often successful in border warfare. whenever an indian fired a spurt of smoke shot up from his rifle's muzzle. a texan instantly pulled trigger at the base of the smoke, and oftener than not the bullet hit his dusky foe. this new duel in the dark went on for two hours. the indians could fire at the mass in the hollow, while the texans steadily picked out their more difficult targets. the frightened oxen uttered terrified lowings and the indians, now and then aiming at the sounds, killed or wounded more of the animals. the texans themselves slew those that were wounded, unwilling to see them suffer so much. the skill of the texans with the rifle was so great that gradually they prevailed over the indians a second time in the trial of sharpshooting. the warriors were driven back on the mexican cavalry, and abandoned the combat. the night was much darker than usual, and a heavy fog, rising from the plain, added to its density and dampness. the skies were invisible, hidden by heavy masses of floating clouds and fog. ned saw a circle of lights spring up around them. they were the camp fires of the mexican army, and he knew that the troops were comfortable there before the blaze. his heart filled with bitterness. he had expected so much of fannin's men, and crockett and bowie before him had expected so much! yet here they were, beleaguered as the texans had been beleaguered in the alamo, and there were no walls behind which they could fight. it seemed to ned that the hand of fate itself had resolved to strike down the texans. he knew that urrea, one of santa anna's ablest and most tenacious generals, would never relax the watch for an instant. in the darkness he could hear the mexican sentinels calling to one another: "sentinela alerte!" the cold damp allayed the thirst of the young recruits, but the crater was the scene of gloom. they did not dare to light a fire, knowing it would draw the indian bullets at once, or perhaps cannon shots. the wounded in their blankets lay on the ground. a few of the unhurt slept, but most of them sat in silence looking somberly at one another. fannin lay against the breech of one of the cannon, blankets having been folded between to make his position easy. his wound was severe and he was suffering greatly, but he uttered no complaint. he had not shown great skill or judgment as a leader, but he was cool and undaunted in action. now he was calling a council to see what they could do to release themselves from their desperate case. officers and men alike attended it freely. "boys," said fannin, speaking in a firm voice despite his weakness and pain, "we are trapped here in this hole in the prairie, but if you are trapped it does not follow that you have to stay trapped. i don't seek to conceal anything from you. our position could not well be worse. we have cannon, but we cannot use them any longer because they are choked and clogged from former firing, and we have no water to wash them out. shortly we will not have a drop to drink. but you are brave, and you can still shoot. i know that we can break through the mexican lines to-night and reach the coleto, the water and the timber. shall we do it?" many replied yes, but then a voice spoke out of the darkness: "what of the wounded, colonel? we have sixty men who can't move." there was an instant's silence, and then a hundred voices said in the darkness: "we'll never leave them. we'll stay here and fight again!" ned was standing with those nearest fannin, and although the darkness was great his eyes had become so used to it that he could see the pale face of the leader. fannin's eyes lighted up at the words of his men, and a little color came into his cheeks. "you speak like brave men rather than wise men," he said, "but i cannot blame you. it is a hard thing to leave wounded comrades to a foe such as the one who faces us. if you wish to stay here, then i say stay. do you wish it?" "we do!" thundered scores of voices, and fannin, moving a little to make himself easier, said simply: "then fortify as best you can." they brought spades and shovels from the wagons, and began to throw up an earthwork, toiling in the almost pitchy darkness. they reinforced it with the bodies of the slain oxen, and, while they toiled, they saw the fires where the mexican officers rested, sure that their prey could not break from the trap. the texans worked on. at midnight they were still working, and when they rested a while there was neither food nor drink for them. every drop of water was gone long since, and they had eaten their last food at supper. they could have neither food nor drink nor sleep. ned had escaped from many dangers, but it is truth that this time he felt despair. his feeling about the hand of fate striking them down became an obsession. what chance had men without an ounce of food or a drop of water to withstand a siege? but he communicated his fears to no one. two or three hours before day, he became so sore and weary from work with the spade that he crawled into one of the half-wrecked wagons, and tried to go to sleep. but his nerves were drawn to too high a pitch. after a quarter of an hour's vain effort he got out of the wagon and stood by the wheel. the sky was still black, and the heavy clouds of fog and vapor rolled steadily past him. it seemed to him that everything was closing on them, even the skies, and the air was so heavy that he found it hard to breathe. he would have returned to work, but he knew that he would overtask his worn frame, and he wanted to be in condition for the battle that he believed was coming with the morrow. they had not tried to cut out at night, then they must do it by day, or die where they stood of thirst. he sat down at last on the ground, and leaned against a wagon wheel, drawing a blanket over his shoulders for warmth. he found that he could rest better here than inside the wagon, and, in an hour or two, he dozed a little, but when he awoke the night was still very dark. the men finished their toil at the breastwork just before day and then, laying aside their shovels and picks and taking up their rifles, they watched for the first shoot of dawn in the east. it came presently, disclosing the long lines of mexican sentinels and behind them the army. the enemy was on watch and soon a terrible rumor, that was true, spread among the texans. they were caught like the men of refugio. only three or four rounds of ammunition were left. it was bad enough to be without food and water, but without powder and bullets either they were no army. now ned knew that his presages were true. they were doomed. the sun rose higher, pouring a golden light upon the plain. the distance to the mexican lines was in appearance reduced half by the vivid light. then ned of the keen eye saw a dark line far off to their right on the prairie. he watched them a little, and saw that they were mexican cavalry, coming to swell still further urrea's swollen force. he also saw two cannon drawn by mules. ned pointed out the column to wallace, a major among the texans, and then wallace used a pair of glasses. "you are right," he said. "they are mexicans and they have two pieces of artillery. oh, if we could only use our own guns!" but the texan cannon stood as worthless as if they had been spiked, and the texans were compelled to remain silent and helpless, while the mexicans put their new guns in position, and took aim with deliberation, as if all the time in the world was theirs. ned tried to console himself with the reflection that mexican gunners were not often accurate, but the first thud and puff of smoke showed that these were better than usual. a shower of grape shot coming from a superior height swept their camp, killing two or three of the remaining oxen, smashing the wagons to pieces, and wounding more men. another shower from the second gun struck among them with like result, and the case of the texans grew more desperate. they tried to reach the gunners with their rifles, but the range was too great, and, after having thrown away nearly all the ammunition that was left, they were forced to stand idly and receive the mexican fire. the mexicans must have divined the texan situation, as a great cheer rose from their lines. it became evident to ned that the shallow crater would soon be raked through and through by the mexican artillery. fannin, lying upon his pallet, was already calling a council of his officers, to which anyone who chose might listen. the wounded leader was still resolute for battle, saying that they might yet cut their way through the mexicans. but the others had no hope. they pointed to the increased numbers of the foe, and the exhausted condition of their own men, who had not now tasted food or water for many hours. if urrea offered them good terms they must surrender. ned stood on one side, saying nothing, although his experience was perhaps greater than that of anybody else present. but he had seen the inevitable. either they must yield to the mexicans or rush boldly on the foe and die to the last man, as the defenders of the alamo had done. yet fannin still opposed. "we whipped them off yesterday, and we can do it again to-day," he said. but he was willing to leave it to the others, and, as they agreed that there was no chance to hold out any longer, they decided to parley with the mexicans. a white cloth was hoisted on the muzzle of a rifle. the mexican fire ceased, and they saw officers coming forward. the sight was almost more than ned could stand. here was a new defeat, a new tragedy. "i shall meet them myself," said fannin, as he rose painfully. "you come with me. major wallace, but we do not speak spanish, either of us." his eye roved over the recruits, and caught ned's glance. "i have been much in mexico," said ned. "i speak spanish and also several mexican variations of it." "good," said fannin, "then you come with us, and you, too, durangue. we may need you both." the two officers and the two interpreters walked out of the hollow, passing the barricade of earth and dead oxen that had been of no avail, and saw four mexican officers coming toward them. a silk handkerchief about the head of one was hidden partly by a cocked hat, and ned at once saw that it was urrea, the younger. his heart swelled with rage and mortification. it was another grievous pang that urrea should be there to exult. they met about midway between the camps, and urrea stepped forward. he gave ned only a single glance, but it made the boy writhe inwardly. the young mexican was now all smoothness and courtesy, although ned was sure that the cruel spanish strain was there, hidden under his smiling air, but ready to flame up at provocation. "i salute you as gallant foes," said urrea in good english, taking off his hat. "my comrades and associates here are colonel salas, lieutenant colonel holzinger and lieutenant gonzales, who are sent with myself by my uncle, general urrea, to inquire into the meaning of the white flag that you have hoisted." each of the mexican officers, as his name was called, took off his hat and bowed. "i am colonel fannin," began the texan leader. all four mexicans instantly bowed again. "and you are wounded," said urrea. "it shows the valor of the texans, when their commander himself shares their utmost dangers." fannin smiled rather grimly. "there was no way to escape the dangers," he said. "your fire was heavy." urrea smiled in a gratified way, and then waited politely for fannin to continue. the leader at once began to treat with the mexican officers. ned, durangue and urrea translated, and the boy did not miss a word that was said. it was agreed that the texans should surrender, and that they should be treated as prisoners of war in the manner of civilized nations. prompt and special attention would be given to the wounded. then the mexican officers saluted courteously and went back toward their own ranks. it had all seemed very easy, very simple, but ned did not like this velvet smoothness, this willingness of the mexicans to agree to the most generous terms. fannin, however, was elated. he had won no victories, but he had saved the lives of his men. their own return was slow, as fannin's wound oppressed him, but when they reached their camp, and told what had been done, the recruits began silently to stack their arms, half in gladness and half in sorrow. more mexican officers came presently and still treated them with that same smooth and silky courtesy. colonel holzinger received the surrendered arms, and, as he did so, he said to ned, who stood by: "well, it's liberty and home in ten days for all you gentlemen." "i hope so," said ned gravely, although he had no home. the mexican courtesy went so far that the arms of the officers were nailed up in a box, with the statement that they would be given back to them as soon as they were released. "i am sorry that we cannot consider you an officer, señor fulton," said young urrea to ned, "then you would get back your rifle and pistols." "you need not bother about it," said ned. "i am willing to let them go. i dare say that when i need them i can get others." "then you still mean to fight against us?" said urrea. "if i can get an exchange, and i suppose i can." "you are not content even yet! you saw what happened at the alamo. you survived that by a miracle, but where are all your companions in that siege? dead. you escaped and joined the texans at refugio. where are the defenders of refugio? in the swamps of the guadalupe, and we have only to put forth our hands and take them. you escaped from refugio to find fannin and his men. where are fannin and his men now? prisoners in our hands. how many of the texans are left? there is no place in all texas so far that the arm of the great santa anna cannot reach it." ned was stung by his taunts and replied: "you forget houston." urrea laughed. "houston! houston!" he said. "he does nothing. and your so-called government does nothing, but talk. they, too, will soon feel the might and wrath of santa anna. nothing can save them but a swift flight to the states." "we shall see," said ned, although at that moment he was far from confident. "remember how our men died at the alamo. the texans cannot be conquered." urrea said nothing further, as if he would not exult over a fallen enemy, although ned knew that he was swelling with triumph, and went back to his uncle's camp. the texan arms were taken ahead on some wagons, and then the dreary procession of the texans themselves marched out of the hollow. they were all on foot and without arms. those hurt worst were sustained by their comrades, and, thus, they marched into the mexican camp, where they expected food and water, but general urrea directed them to walk on to goliad. fainting from hunger and thirst, they took up their march again. the mexican cavalry rode on either side of them, and many of the horsemen were not above uttering taunts which, fortunately, few of the prisoners could understand. young urrea was in command of this guard and he rode near the head of the column where ned could see him. now and then a mexican vaquero cracked his long whip, and every report made ned start and redden with anger. some of the recruits were cheerful, talked of being exchanged and of fighting again in the war, but the great majority marched in silence and gloom. they felt that they had wasted themselves. they had marched into a trap, which the mexicans were able to close upon them before they could strike a single blow for texas. now they were herded like cattle being driven to a stable. they reached the town of goliad, and the mexican women and children, rejoicing in the triumph of their men, came out to meet them, uttering many shrill cries as they chattered to one another. ned understood them, but he was glad that the others did not. young urrea rode up by the side of him and said: "well, you and your comrades have now arrived at our good town of goliad. you should be glad that your lives have been spared, because you are rebels and you deserve death. but great is the magnanimity of our most illustrious president and general, antonio lopez de santa anna." ned looked up quickly. he thought he had caught a note of cruelty in that soft, measured voice. he never trusted urrea, nor did he ever trust santa anna. "i believe it is customary in civilized warfare to spare the lives of prisoners," he said. "but rebels are rebels, and freebooters are freebooters," said urrea. it seemed to ned that the young mexican wanted to draw him into some sort of controversy, and he refused to continue. he felt that there was something sinister about urrea, or that he represented something sinister, and he resolved to watch rather than talk. so, gazing straight ahead, he walked on in silence. urrea, waiting for an answer, and seeing that he would get none, smiled ironically, and, turning his horse, galloped away. the prisoners were marched through the town, and to the church. all the old spanish or mexican towns of texas contained great stone churches, which were also fortresses, and goliad was no exception. this was of limestone, vaulted and somber, and it was choked to overflowing with the prisoners, who could not get half enough air through the narrow windows. the surgeons, for lack of bandages and medicines, could not attend the wounded, who lay upon the floor. where were the fair mexican promises, in accordance with which they had yielded? many of the unwounded became so weak from hunger and thirst that they, too, were forced to lie upon the floor. ned had reserves of strength that came to his aid. he leaned against the wall and breathed the foul air of the old church, which was breathed over and over again by nearly four hundred men. the heavy doors were unbarred an hour later, and food and water were brought to them, but how little! there was a single drink and a quarter of a pound of meat for each man. it was but a taste after their long fast, and soon they were as hungry and thirsty as ever. it was a hideous night. there was not room for them all to sleep on the floor, and ned dozed for a while leaning against the wall. food and water were brought to them in the same small quantities in the morning, but there was no word from the mexicans concerning the promises of good treatment and parole that had been made when they surrendered. ned was surprised at nothing. he knew that santa anna dominated all mexico, and he knew santa anna. promises were nothing to him, if it served him better to break them. fannin demanded writing materials and wrote a note to general urrea protesting strongly against the violation of faith. but general urrea was gone after ward's men, who were surrounded in the marshes of the guadalupe, leaving colonel portilla in command. portilla, meanwhile, was dominated by the younger urrea, a man of force and audacity, whom he knew to be high in the favor of santa anna. captain urrea did not believe in showing any kindness to the men imprisoned in the church. they were rebels or filibusters. they had killed many good mexicans, and they should be made to suffer for it. no answer was returned to fannin's letter, and the men in the somber old limestone building became depressed and gloomy. ned, who was surprised at nothing, also hoped for nothing, but he sought to preserve his strength, believing that he would soon have full need of it. he stretched and tensed his muscles in order to keep the stiffness from coming into them, and he slept whenever he could. two or three days passed and the mexican officer, holzinger, came for fannin, who was now recovered largely from his wound. the two went away to copano on the coast to look for a vessel that would carry the prisoners to new orleans. they returned soon, and fannin and all his men were in high hopes. meanwhile a new group of prisoners were thrust into the church. they were the survivors of ward's men, whom general urrea had taken in the swamps of the guadalupe. then came another squad, eighty-two young tennesseeans, who, reaching texas by water, had been surrounded and captured by an overwhelming force the moment they landed. a piece of white cloth had been tied around the arms of every one of these men to distinguish them from the others. but they were very cheerful over the news that fannin had brought. there was much bustle among the mexicans, and it seemed to be the bustle of preparation. the prisoners expected confidently that within another day they would be on the march to the coast and to freedom. there was a singular scene in the old church. a boy from kentucky had brought a flute with him which the mexicans had permitted him to retain. now sitting in turkish fashion in the center of the floor he was playing: "home, sweet home." either he played well or their situation deepened to an extraordinary pitch the haunting quality of the air. despite every effort tears rose to ned's eyes. others made no attempt to hide theirs. why should they? they were but inexperienced boys in prison, many hundreds of miles from the places where they were born. they sang to the air of the flute, and all through the evening they sang that and other songs. they were happier than they had been in many days. ned alone was gloomy and silent. knowing that santa anna was now the fountain head of all things mexican he could not yet trust. chapter xviii the black tragedy while the raw recruits crowded one another for breath in the dark vaulted church of goliad, a little swarthy man in a gorgeous uniform sat dining luxuriously in the best house in san antonio, far to the northwest. some of his favorite generals were around him, castrillon, gaona, almonte, and the italian filisola. the "napoleon of the west" was happy. his stay in san antonio, after the fall of the alamo, had been a continuous triumph, with much feasting and drinking and music. he had received messages from the city of mexico, his capital, and all things there went well. everybody obeyed his orders, although they were sent from the distant and barbarous land of texas. while they dined, a herald, a mexican cavalrymen who had ridden far, stopped at the door and handed a letter to the officer on guard: "for the most illustrious president, general santa anna," he said. the officer went within and, waiting an opportune moment, handed the letter to santa anna. "the messenger came from general urrea," he said. santa anna, with a word of apology, because he loved the surface forms of politeness, opened and read the letter. then he uttered a cry of joy. "we have all the texans now!" he exclaimed. "general urrea has taken fannin and his men. there is nothing left in texas to oppose us." the generals uttered joyful shouts and drank again to their illustrious leader. the banquet lasted long, but after it was over santa anna withdrew to his own room and dictated a letter to his secretary. it was sealed carefully and given to a chosen messenger, a heavy-browed and powerful mexican. "ride fast to goliad with that letter," said santa anna. the messenger departed at once. he rode a strong horse, and he would find fresh mounts on the way. he obeyed the orders of the general literally. he soon left san antonio far behind, and went on hour after hour, straight toward goliad. now and then he felt the inside of his tunic where the letter lay, but it was always safe. three or four times he met parties of mexicans, and he replied briefly to their questions that he rode on the business of the most illustrious president, general antonio lopez de santa anna. once, on the second day, he saw two horsemen, whom his trained eyes told him to be texan hunters. the messenger sheered off into a patch of timber, and waited until the hunters passed out of sight. had they seen him much might have changed, a terrible story might have been different, but, at that period, the stars in their courses were working against the texans. every accident, every chance, turned to the advantage of their enemies. the messenger emerged from the timber, and went on at the same steady gait toward goliad. he was riding his fourth horse now, having changed every time he met a mexican detachment, and the animal was fresh and strong. the rider himself, powerful by nature and trained to a life in the saddle, felt no weariness. the scattered houses of goliad came into view, by and by, and the messenger, giving the magic name of santa anna, rode through the lines. he inquired for general urrea, the commander, but the general having gone to victoria he was directed to colonel portilla, who commanded in his absence. he found portilla sitting in a patio with colonel garay, the younger urrea and several other mexican officers. the messenger saluted, drew the letter from his pocket and presented it to colonel portilla. "from the most illustrious president and commander-in-chief, general santa anna," he said. portilla broke the seal and read. as his eyes went down the lines, a deep flush crept through the tan of his face, and the paper trembled in his hands. "i cannot do it! i cannot do it! read, gentlemen, read!" he cried. urrea took the extended letter from his hand and read it aloud. neither his voice nor his hand quivered as he read, and when he finished he said in a firm voice: "the orders of the president must be obeyed, and you, colonel portilla, must carry them out at once. all of us know that general santa anna does not wish to repeat his commands, and that his wrath is terrible." "it is so! it is so!" said portilla hopelessly, and garay also spoke words of grief. but urrea, although younger and lower in rank, was firm, even exultant. his aggressive will dominated the others, and his assertion that the wrath of santa anna was terrible was no vain warning. the others began to look upon him as santa anna's messenger, the guardian of his thunderbolts, and they did not dare to meet his eye. "we will go outside and talk about it," said portilla, still much agitated. when they left the patio their steps inevitably took them toward the church. the high note of a flute playing a wailing air came to them through the narrow windows. it was "home, sweet home," played by a boy in prison. the mexicans did not know the song, but its solemn note was not without an appeal to portilla and garay. portilla wiped the perspiration from his face. "come away," he said. "we can talk better elsewhere." they turned in the opposite direction, but urrea did not remain with them long. making some excuse for leaving them he went rapidly to the church. he knew that his rank and authority would secure him prompt admission from the guards, but he stopped, a moment, at the door. the prisoners were now singing. three or four hundred voices were joined in some hymn of the north that he did not know, some song of the english-speaking people. the great volume of sound floated out, and was heard everywhere in the little town. urrea was not moved at all. "rebels and filibusters!" he said in spanish, under his breath, but fiercely. then he ordered the door unbarred, and went in. two soldiers went with him and held torches aloft. the singing ceased when urrea entered. ned was standing against the wall, and the young mexican instinctively turned toward him, because he knew ned best. there was much of the tiger cat in urrea. he had the same feline grace and power, the same smoothness and quiet before going into action. "you sing, you are happy," he said to ned, although he meant them all. "it is well. you of the north bear misfortune well." "we do the best we can wherever we are," replied young fulton, dryly. "the saints themselves could do no more," said the mexican. urrea was speaking in english, and his manner was so friendly and gentle that the recruits crowded around him. "when are we to be released? when do we get our parole?" they asked. urrea smiled and held up his hands. he was all sympathy and generosity. "all your troubles will be over to-morrow," he said, "and it is fitting that they should end on such a day, because it is palm sunday." the recruits gave a cheer. "do we go down to the coast?" one of them asked. urrea smiled with his whole face, and with the gesture of his hands, too. but he shook his head. "i can say no more," he replied. "i am not the general, and perhaps i have said too much already, but be assured, brave foes, that to-morrow will end your troubles. you fought us gallantly. you fought against great odds, and you have my sympathy." ned had said no more. he was looking at urrea intently. he was trying, with all the power of his own mind and soul, to read this man's mind and soul. he was trying to pierce through that spanish armor of smiles and gestures and silky tones and see what lay beneath. he sought to read the real meaning of all these polite phrases. his long and powerful gaze finally drew urrea's own. a little look of fear crept into urrea's eyes, as the two antagonists stared at each other. but it was only for a few minutes. then he looked away with a shrug and a laugh. "now i leave you," he said to the men, "and may the saints bring you much happiness. do not forget that to-morrow is palm sunday, and that it is a good omen." he went out, taking the torchbearers with him, and although it was dark again in the vaulted church, the recruits sang a long time. ned sat down with his back against the wall, and he did not share in the general joy. he remembered the look that had come into urrea's eyes, when they met the accusing gaze of his own. after a while the singing ceased, and one by one the recruits fell asleep in the close, stifling air of the place. ned dozed an hour or two, but awoke before dawn. he was oppressed by a deep and unaccountable gloom, and it was not lifted when, in the dusk, he looked at the rows of sleeping figures, crowded so close together that no part of the floor was visible. he saw the first light appear in the east, and then spread like the slow opening of a fan. the recruits began to awaken by and by, and their good spirits had carried over from the night before. soon the old church was filled with talk and laughter. the day came fully, and then the guards brought food and water, not enough to satisfy hunger and thirst, but enough to keep them alive. they did not complain, as they would soon be free men, able to obtain all that they wanted. presently the doors of the church were thrown open, and the officers and many soldiers appeared. young urrea was foremost among the officers, and, in a loud voice, he ordered all the prisoners to come out, an order that they obeyed with alacrity and pleasure. ned marched forth with the rest, although he did not speak to any of those about him. he looked first at urrea, whose manner was polite and smiling, as it had been the night before, and then his glance shifted to the other officers, older men, and evidently higher in rank. he saw that two, colonels by their uniforms, were quite pale, and that one of them was biting savagely at his mustache. it all seemed sinister to ned. why was urrea doing everything, and why were his superiors standing by, evidently a prey to some great nervous strain? the recruits, under urrea's orders, were formed into three columns. one was to take the road toward san antonio, the second would march toward san patricio, and the third to copano. the three columns shouted good-by, but the recruits assured one another that they would soon meet again. urrea told one column that it was going to be sent home immediately, another that it was going outside the town, where it was to help in killing cattle for beef which they would eat, and the third that it was leaving the church in a hurry to make room for santa anna's own troops, who would reach the town in an hour. ned was in the largest column, near the head of it, and he watched everything with a wary eye. he noticed that the mexican colonels still left all the arrangements to urrea, and that they remained extremely nervous. their hands were never quiet for a moment. the column filed down through the town, and ned saw the mexican women looking at them. he heard two or three of them say "pobrecitos" (poor fellows), and their use of the word struck upon his ear with an ominous sound. he glanced back. close behind the mass of prisoners rode a strong squadron of cavalry with young urrea at their head. ned could not see urrea's face, which was hidden partly by a cocked and plumed hat, but he noticed that the young mexican sat very upright, as if he felt the pride of authority. one hand held the reins, and the other rested on the silver hilt of a small sword at his side. a column of mexican infantry marched on either side of the prisoners, and only a few yards away. it seemed to ned that they were holding the texans very close for men whom they were to release in a few hours. trusting the mexicans in nothing, he was suspicious of everything, and he watched with a gaze that missed no detail. but he seemed to be alone in such thoughts. the recruits, enjoying the fresh air and the prospect of speedy freedom, were talking much, and exchanging many jests. they passed out of the little town, and the last ned saw of it was the mexican women standing in the doorways and watching. they continued along the road in double file, with the mexican infantry still on either side, and the mexican cavalry in the rear. a half mile from the town, and urrea gave an order. the whole procession stopped, and the column of mexican infantry on the left passed around, joining their comrades on the right. the recruits paid no attention to the movement, but ned looked instantly at urrea. he saw the man rise now in his saddle, his whole face aflame. in a flash he divined everything. his heart leaped and he shouted: "boys, they are going to kill us!" the startled recruits did not have time to think, because the next instant urrea, rising to his full height in his stirrups, cried: "fire!" the double line of mexicans, at a range of a few yards, fired in an instant into the column of unarmed prisoners. there was a great blaze, a spurt of smoke and a tremendous crash. it seemed to ned that he could fairly hear the thudding of bullets upon bodies, and the breaking of bones beneath the sudden fierce impact of the leaden hail. an awful strangled cry broke from the poor recruits, half of whom were already down. the mexicans, reloading swiftly, poured in another volley, and the prisoners fell in heaps. then urrea and the cavalry, with swords and lances, charged directly upon them, the hoofs of their horses treading upon wounded and unwounded alike. ned could never remember clearly the next few moments in that red and awful scene. it seemed to him afterward that he went mad for the time. he was conscious of groans and cries, of the fierce shouting of the mexicans, wild with the taste of blood, of the incessant crackling of the rifles and muskets, and of falling bodies. he saw gathering over himself and his slaughtered comrades a great column of smoke, pierced by innumerable jets of fire, and he caught glimpses of the swart faces of the mexicans as they pulled triggers. from right and left came the crash of heavy but distant volleys, showing that the other two columns were being massacred in the same way. he felt the thunder of hoofs and a horse was almost upon him, while the rider, leaning from the saddle, cut at him with a saber. ned, driven by instinct rather than reason, sprang to one side the next instant, and then the horseman was lost in the smoke. he dashed against a figure, and was about to strike with his fist, the only weapon that he now had, when he saw that he had collided with a texan, unwounded like himself. then he, too, was lost in the smoke. a consuming rage and horror seized ned. why he was not killed he never knew. the cloud over the place where the slaughtered recruits lay thickened, but the mexicans never ceased to fire into it with their rifles and muskets. the crackling of the weapons beat incessantly upon the drums of his ears. mingled with it were the cries and groans of the victims, now fast growing fewer. but it was all a blurred and red vision to ned. while he was in that deadly volcano he moved by instinct and impulse and not by reason. a few of the unwounded had already dashed from the smoke and had undertaken flight across the plain, away from the mexican infantry, where they were slain by the lances or muskets of the cavalry under urrea. ned followed them. a lancer thrust so savagely at him that when the boy sprang aside the lance was hurled from his hand. ned's foot struck against the weapon, and instantly he picked it up. a horseman on his right was aiming a musket at him, and, using the lance as a long club, he struck furiously at the mexican. the heavy butt landed squarely upon the man's head, and shattered it like an eggshell. youthful and humane, ned nevertheless felt a savage joy when the man's skull crashed beneath his blow. it is true that he was quite mad for the moment. his rage and horror caused every nerve and muscle within him to swell. his brain was a mass of fire. his strength was superhuman. whirling the great lance in club fashion about his head he struck another mexican across the shoulders, and sent him with a howl of pain from the saddle. he next struck a horse across the forehead, and so great was the impact that the animal went down. a cavalryman at a range of ten yards fired at him and missed. he never fired again, as the heavy butt of the lance caught him the next instant on the side of the head, and he went to join his comrade. all the while ned was running for the timber. a certain reason was appearing in his actions, and he was beginning to think clearly. he curved about as he ran, knowing that it would disturb the aim of the mexicans, who were not good shots, and instinctively he held on to the lance, whirling it about his head, and from time to time uttering fierce shouts like an indian warrior wild with battle. more than one mexican horseman sheered away from the formidable figure with the formidable weapon. ned saw other figures, unarmed, running for the wood. a few reached it, but most were cut down before they had gone half way. behind him the firing and shouting of the mexicans did not seem to decrease, but no more groans or cries reached him from the bank of smoke that hung over the place where the murdered recruits lay. but the crash of the fire, directed on the other columns to right and left, still came to him. ned saw the wood not far away now. twenty or thirty shots had been fired at him, but all missed except two, which merely grazed him. he was not hurt and the superhuman strength, born of events so extraordinary, still bore him up. the trees looked very green. they seemed to hold out sheltering arms, and there was dense underbrush through which the cavalry could not dash. he came yet nearer, and then a horseman, rifle raised to his shoulder, dashed in between. sparks danced before ned's eyes. throat and mouth, lips and his whole face burned with smoke and fever, but all the heat seemed to drive him into fiercer action. he struck at horse and horseman so savagely that the two went down together, and the lance broke in his hands. then with a cry of triumph that his parched throat could scarcely utter, he leaped into the timber. having reached the shelter of the trees, ned ran on for a long time, and finally came into the belt of forest along the san antonio river. twenty-six others escaped in the same way on that day, which witnessed the most dreadful deed ever done on the soil of north america, but nearly four hundred were murdered in obedience to the letter sent by antonio lopez de santa anna. fannin and ward, themselves, were shot through the head, and their bodies were thrown into the common heap of the slain. ned did not see any of the other fugitives among the trees. he may have passed them, but his brain was still on fire, and he beheld nothing but that terrible scene behind him, the falling recruits, the fire and the smoke and the charging horsemen. he could scarcely believe that it was real. the supreme power would not permit such things. already the alamo had lighted a fire in his soul, and goliad now turned it into a roaring flame. he hated urrea, who had rejoiced in it, and he hated santa anna who, he dimly felt, had been responsible for this massacre. every element in his being was turned for the time into passion and hatred. as he wandered on, he murmured unintelligible but angry words through his burning lips. he knew nothing about the passage of time, but after many hours he realized that it was night, and that he had come to the banks of a river. it was the san antonio, and he swam it, wishing to put the stream between himself and the mexicans. then he sat down in the thick timber, and the collapse from such intense emotions and such great exertions came quickly. he seemed to go to pieces all in a breath. his head fell forward and he became unconscious. chapter xix the race for the boat five men, or rather four men and a boy, rode down the banks of the san antonio, always taking care to keep well in the shelter of the timber. all the men were remarkable in figure, and at least three of them were of a fame that had spread to every corner of texas. the one who rode slightly in advance was of gigantic build, enormously thick through the shoulders and chest. he was dressed in brightly dyed deerskin, and there were many fanciful touches about his border costume. the others also wore deerskin, but theirs was of soberer hue. the man was martin palmer, far better known as the panther, or, as he loved to call himself, the ring tailed panther. his comrades were "deaf" smith, henry karnes, obed white and will allen. they were not a very cheerful five. riding as free lances, because there was now practically no organized authority among the texans, they had been scouting the day before toward goliad. they had learned that fannin and his men had been taken, and they had sought also to discover what the mexican generals meant to do with the troops. but the mexican patrols had been so numerous and strong that they could not get close enough to goliad. early in the morning while in the timber by the river they had heard the sound of heavy firing near goliad, which continued for some time, but they had not been able to fathom its meaning. they concluded finally that a portion of fannin's men must have been still holding out in some old building of goliad, and that this was the last stand. they made another effort to get closer to the town, but they were soon compelled to turn back, and, again they sought the thickest timber along the river. now they were riding back, in the hope of finding some texan detachment with which they could coöperate. "if we keep huntin' we ought to find somebody who can tell us somethin'," said the panther. "it's a long lane that has no news at the end," said obed white, with an attempt at buoyancy. "that's so," said "deaf" smith. "we're bound to hit a trail somehow an' somewhere. we heard that fannin's men had surrendered an' then we heard that firin'. but i guess that they wouldn't give up, without makin' good terms for themselves, else they would have held out as the boys did in the alamo." "ah, the alamo!" said obed white. his face clouded at the words. he was thinking then of the gallant youth who had escaped with him from the dungeon under the sea in the castle of san juan de ulua, and who had been his comrade in the long and perilous flight through mexico into texas. the heart of the maine man, alone in the world, had turned strongly to ned fulton, and mourning him as one dead he also mourned him as a son. but as he rarely talked of the things that affected him most, he seldom mentioned ned. the panther was less restrained. "we've got a big score to settle for the alamo," he said. "some good friends of mine went down forever in that old mission an' there was that boy, ned fulton. i s'pose it ain't so bad to be cut off when you're old, an' you've had most of your life, but it does look bad for a strong, fine boy just turnin' into a man to come straight up ag'inst the dead wall." will allen said nothing, but unbidden water forced itself to his eyes. he and ned had become the strongest of friends and comrades. "after all that's been done to our people," said the panther, "i feel like rippin' an' r'arin' an' chawin' the rest of my life." "we'll have the chance to do all of it we want, judgin' from the way things are goin'," said "deaf" smith. then they relapsed into silence, and rode on through the timber, going slowly as they were compelled to pick their way in the underbrush. it was now nearly noon, and a brilliant sun shone overhead, but the foliage of young spring was heavy on trees and bushes, and it gave them at the same time shade and shelter. as they rode they watched everywhere for a trail. if either texans or mexicans had passed they wanted to know why, and when. they came at last to hoofprints in the soft bank of the river, indicating that horses--undoubtedly with men on their backs--had crossed here. the skilled trailers calculated the number at more than fifteen, perhaps more than twenty, and they followed their path across the timber and out upon the prairie. when the hoofprints were more clearly discernible in the grass they saw that they had been made by unshod feet, and they were mystified, but they followed cautiously or, for two or three miles, when "deaf" smith saw something gleaming by the track. he alighted and picked up a painted feather. "it's simple now," he said. "we've been followin' the trail of indians. they wouldn't be in this part of the country, 'less they were helpin' the mexicans, an' i guess they were at goliad, leavin' after the business there was finished." "you're right, deaf," said karnes. "that 'counts for the unshod hoofs. it ain't worth while for us to follow them any longer, so i guess we'd better turn back to the timber." safety obviously demanded this course, and soon they were again in the forest, riding near the san antonio and down its stream. they struck the trail of a bear, then they roused up a deer in the thickets, but big game had no attraction for them now, and they went on, leaving bear and deer in peace. then the sharp eyes of the panther saw the print of a human foot on the river bank. he soon saw three or four more such traces leading into the forest, where the trail was lost. the five gathered around the imprints in the earth, and debated their meaning. it was evident even to will allen that some one without a horse had swum the river at that point and had climbed up the bank. they could see the traces lower down, where he had emerged from the water. "i figger it this way," said the panther. "people don't go travelin' through this country except on horses, an' this fellow, whoever he is, didn't have any horse, as we all can see as plain as day." "an' in such times as these," said "deaf" smith, "fellers don't go swimmin' rivers just for fun. the one that made these tracks was in a hurry. ain't that so, hank?" "'course he was," replied karnes. "he was gettin' away from somewhere an' from somebody. that's why he swam the river; he wanted the san antonio to separate him from them somebodies." "and putting two and two and then two more together," said obed white, "we draw the conclusion that it is a fugitive, probably one of our own texans, who has escaped in some manner from his prison at goliad." "it's what we all think," said the panther, "an' now we'll beat up these thickets till we find him. he's sure to keep movin' away from goliad, an' he's got sense to stay in the cover of the timber." the forest here ran back from the river three or four hundred yards, and the five, separating and moving up the stream, searched thoroughly. the hunt presently brought the panther and obed white together again, and they expressed their disappointment at finding nothing. then they heard a cry from will allen, who came galloping through the thickets, his face white and his eyes starting. "i've found ned fulton!" he cried. "he's lying here dead in the bushes!" the panther and obed stared in amazement. "will," exclaimed the panther, "have you gone plum' crazy? ned was killed at the alamo!" "i tell you he is here!" cried the boy, who was shaking with excitement. "i have just seen him! he was lying on his back in the bushes, and he did not move!" "lead on! let's see what you have seen!" said obed, who began to share in the boy's excitement. the panther whistled, and smith and karnes joined them. then, led by will allen, they rode swiftly through the bushes, coming, forty or fifty yards away, into a tiny grassy glade. it was either ned fulton or his ghost, and the panther, remembering the alamo, took it for the latter. he uttered a cry of astonishment and reined in his horse. but obed white leaped to the ground, and ran to the prostrate figure. "a miracle!" he exclaimed. "it's ned fulton! and he's alive!" the others also sprang from their horses, and crowded around their youthful comrade, whom they had considered among the fallen of the alamo. ned was unconscious, his face was hot with fever, and his breathing was hard and irregular. "how he escaped from the alamo and how he came here we don't know," said obed white solemnly, "but there are lots of strange things in heaven and earth, as old shakespeare said, and this is one of the strangest of them all." "however, it's happened we're glad to get him back," said the panther. "and now we must go to work. you can tell by lookin' at him that he's been through all kinds of trouble, an' a powerful lot of it." these skilled borderers knew that ned was suffering from exhaustion. they forced open his mouth, poured a drink down his throat from a flask that karnes carried, and rubbed his hands vigorously. ned, after a while, opened his eyes and looked at them dimly. he knew in a vague way that these were familiar faces, but he remembered nothing, and he felt no surprise. "ned! ned! don't; you know us?" said will allen. "we're your friends, and we found you lying here in the bush!" the clouds slowly cleared away from ned's mind and it all came back, the terrible and treacherous slaughter of his unarmed comrades, his own flight through the timber his swimming of the river, and then the blank. but these were his best friends. it was no fantasy. how and when they had come he did not know, but here they were in the flesh, the panther, obed white, will allen, "deaf" smith and henry karnes. "boys," he asked weakly, "how did you find me?" "now don't you try to talk yet a while, ned," said obed white, veiling his feeling under a whimsical tone. "when people come back from the dead they don't always stay, and we want to keep you, as you're an enrolled member of this party. the news of your trip into the beyond and back again will keep, until we fix up something for you that will make you feel a lot stronger." these frontiersmen never rode without an outfit, and smith produced a small skillet from his kit. the panther lighted a fire, karnes chipped off some dried beef, and in a few minutes they had a fine soup, which ned ate with relish. he sat with his back against a tree and his strength returned rapidly. "i guess you can talk now, ned," said obed white. "you can tell us how you got away from the alamo, and where you've been all the time." young fulton's face clouded and obed white saw his hands tremble. "it isn't the alamo," he said. "they died fighting there. it was goliad." "goliad?" exclaimed "deaf" smith. "what do you mean?" "i mean the slaughter, the massacre. all our men were led out. they were told that they were to go on parole. then the whole mexican army opened fire upon us at a range of only a few yards and the cavalry trod us down. we had no arms. we could not fight back. it was awful. i did not dream that such things could be. none of you will ever see what i've seen, and none of you will ever go through what i've gone through." "ned, you've had fever. it's a dream," said obed white, incredulous. "it is no dream. i broke through somehow, and got to the timber. maybe a few others escaped in the same way, but all the rest were murdered in cold blood. i know that santa anna ordered it." they knew perfectly well that ned was telling the full truth, and the faces of all of them darkened. the same thought was in the heart of every one, vengeance for the deed, but however intense was the thought it did not approach the feeling of ned, who had seen it all, and who had been through it all. "i guess that was the firing we heard," said smith, "when we thought it was the boys making a last stand at goliad. i tell you, comrades, this means the freedom of texas. no matter how the quarrel came about no people can stand such things." "it's so," said the others together. they did not declaim. they were of a tribe that was not given much to words, but they felt sure that their own resolve to fight until no mexicans were left in texas would now be shared by every texan. after ned rested a while longer and ate more of the good soup, he told the full story of the great and tragic scenes through which he had passed since he became separated from them. seasoned as they were, these men hung with breathless interest on every detail. he told them everything that had passed in the alamo during the long days of the siege. he told of crockett and bowie and travis and of the final assault. the panther drew a deep breath, when he finished that part of the story. "they were certainly great men in the alamo, them fellers," he said, "and when my time comes to die i believe i'd rather die that way than any other." ned did not linger long over the tale of goliad. he could not yet bear the detailed repetition. "i think we'd better make for the coast," said "deaf" smith, when he had finished. "our forces in the field are about wiped out, an' we've got to raise a new army of some kind. we can look for our government, too. it's wanderin' aroun', tryin' to keep out of the hands of santa anna. we haven't any horse for you now, ned, but you can ride behind will allen. maybe we can get you a mount before long." they remained in the timber the rest of the day, in order that ned might recover sufficiently for the journey. about the middle of the afternoon they saw a dozen mexican cavalrymen on the plain, and they hoped that they would invade the timber. they were keyed to such a pitch of anger and hate that they would have welcomed a fight, and they were more than confident of victory, but the mexicans disappeared beyond the swells, and every one of the men was disappointed. at night they began their march toward the north, and continued almost until morning. ned, riding behind will allen, scarcely spoke. obed white, then and afterward, observed a great change in him. he seemed to have matured suddenly far beyond his years, and obed always felt that he had some unchanging purpose that had little to do with gentleness or mercy. they slept in the timber until about o'clock, and then resumed their ride northward, still holding to the opinion that the peripatetic texan government would be found at harrisburg, or somewhere in its vicinity. in the afternoon they encountered a mexican force of eight mounted men, and attacked with such vigor that ned and will, riding double, were never able to get into the fight. two of the mexicans fell, and the rest got away. the texans were unharmed. the panther, after a chase, captured one of the horses, and brought him back for ned. they also secured the arms of the fallen mexicans, one of these weapons being an american rifle, which ned was quite sure had belonged to a slaughtered recruit at goliad. they also found a letter in one of the mexican haversacks. it was from general urrea to general santa anna, and the panther and his comrades inferred from the direction in which its bearer had been riding that the dictator himself had left san antonio, and was marching eastward with the main mexican army. "i have to inform you," ran a part of the letter, "that your orders in regard to the rebels at goliad were carried out, in my absence, by the brave and most excellent colonel portilla. they were all executed, except a few who escaped under cover of the smoke to the timber, but our cavalrymen are sure to find in time every one of these, and inflict upon them the justice that you have ordered. "i shall march north, expecting to meet your excellency, and i trust that i shall have further good news to report to you. there are now no rebel forces worthy of the name. we shall sweep the country clean. i shall send detachments to take any americans who may land at the ports, and, coöperating with you, i feel assured, also, that we shall capture every member of the rebel government. in another month there will not be a single texan in arms against us." ned read the letter aloud, translating into english as he went, and when he finished the panther burst into a scornful laugh. "so, the rebels are all killed, or about to be killed!" he said. "an' there won't be one texan in arms a month from now! i'm willin' to give my word that here are six of us who will be in arms then, roarin' an' rippin' an' t'arin'! they'll sweep the country clean, will they? they'll need a bigger broom for that job than any that was ever made in mexico!" the others made comment in like fashion, but young fulton was silent. his resolution was immutable, and it required no words to assert it. "i guess we'd better take this letter with us an' give it to sam houston," said "deaf" smith. "houston has been criticized a lot for not gatherin' his forces together an' attackin' the mexicans, but he ain't had any forces to gather, an' talk has never been much good against cannon balls an' bullets. still, he's the only man we've got to fall back on." "you keep the letter, 'deaf'," said the panther, "an' now that we've got a horse for ned i guess we can go a little faster. how you feelin' now, ned?" "fine," replied ned. "don't you bother about me any more. i started on the upgrade the moment you fellows found me." "a good horse and a good rifle ought to be enough to bring back the strength to any texan," said obed white. they resumed their journey at a faster pace, but before nightfall they met another texan who informed them that large forces of mexicans were now between them and harrisburg. hence they concluded that it was wiser to turn toward the coast, and make a great circuit around the forces of santa anna. but they told the texan scout of what had been done at goliad, and bade him wave the torch of fire wherever he went. he rode away with a face aghast at the news, and they knew that he would soon spread it through the north. as for themselves they rode rapidly toward the east. they spent the night in a cluster of timber, and the panther was fortunate enough to shoot a wild turkey. they made ned eat the tenderest parts, and then seek sleep between blankets. his fever was now gone, but he was relaxed and weak. it was a pleasant weakness, however, and, secure in the comradeship of his friends, he soon fell into a deep slumber which lasted all the night. the others had planned an early start, but, as ned was sleeping with such calm and peace, they decided not to disturb him, knowing how much he needed the rest. it was three hours after sunrise when he awoke, and he made many apologies, but the rest only laughed. "what's the use of our hurryin'?" said "deaf" smith. "it'll take some time for sam houston to get any army together, an' we might keep in good shape until he gets it. here's more beef soup for you, ned. you'll find it mighty fine for buildin' up." two or three hours after they started that day they came to a large trail, and, when they followed it a little while, they found that it was made by mexicans marching south, but whether they belonged to the main force under santa anna or that under urrea they could not tell. it was evident that the northern road was full of dangers and they rode for the coast. several small texan vessels were flitting around the gulf, now and then entering obscure bays and landing arms, ammunition and recruits for he cause. both smith and karnes were of the opinion that they might find a schooner or sloop, and they resolved to try for it. they reached, the next day, country that had not been ravaged by the troops of santa anna, and passed one or two tiny settlements, where they told the news of goliad. the panther, smith and karnes were well known to all the texans, and they learned in the last of these villages that a schooner was expected in a cove about forty miles up the coast. it would undoubtedly put in at night, and it would certainly arrive in two or three days. they thought it was coming from new orleans. the little party decided to ride for the cove, and meet the schooner if possible. they could reach it in another day and night, and they would await the landing. "we've got good friends in new orleans," said smith, as they rode over the prairie. "you'll remember the merchant, john roylston. he's for us heart and soul, an' i've no doubt that he's sendin' us help." "all the texans owe him a debt," said ned, "and i owe him most of all. his name saved my life, when i was taken at san antonio. it had weight with santa anna, and it might have had weight with him, too, at goliad, had he been there." they rode steadily all the next day. their horses were tough mustangs of the best quality, and showed no signs of weariness. they passed through a beautiful country of light rolling prairie, interspersed with fine forest. the soil was deep and rich, and the foliage was already in its tenderest spring green. soft, warm airs swept up from the gulf. five of the riders felt elation, and talked cheerfully. but ned maintained a somber silence. the scenes of goliad were still too vivid for him to rejoice over anything. the others understood, and respected his silence. they camped that night as usual in the thickest forest they could find, and, feeling that they were now too far east to be in any serious danger from the mexicans, they lighted a fire, warmed their food, and made coffee, having replenished their supplies at the last settlement. obed white was the coffee maker, heating it in a tin pot with a metal bottom. they had only one cup, which they used in turn, but the warm food and drink were very grateful to them after their hard riding. "keeping in good condition is about three-fourths of war," said obed in an oracular tone. "he who eats and runs away will live to eat another day. besides, napoleon said that an army marched better on a full stomach, or something like it." "that applied to infantry," said will allen. "we march on our horses." "some day," said ned, "when we've beaten santa anna and driven all the mexicans out of texas, i'm going back and hunt for old jack. he and i are too good friends to part forever. i found him, after abandoning him the first time, and i believe i can do it again, after leaving him the second time." "of course you can," said the panther cheerily. "old jack is a horse that will never stay lost. now, i think we'd better put out our fire and go to sleep. the horses will let us know if any enemy comes." all were soon slumbering peacefully in their blankets, but ned, who had slept so much the night before, awakened in two or three hours. he believed, at first, that a distant sound had broken his sleep, but when he sat up he heard nothing. five dusky figures lay in a row near him. they were those of his comrades, and he heard their steady breathing. certainly they slept well. he lay down again, but he remained wide awake, and, when his ear touched the ground, he seemed to hear the faint and distant sound again. he rose and looked at the horses. they had not moved, and it was quite evident that they had detected no hostile presence. but ned was not satisfied. putting his rifle on his shoulder he slipped through the forest to the edge of the prairie. long before he was there he knew that he had not been deceived by fancy. he saw, two or three hundred yards in front of him, a long file of cavalry marching over the prairie, going swiftly and straight ahead, as if bent upon some purpose well defined. a good moon and abundant stars furnished plenty of light, and ned saw that the force was mexican. there were no lancers, all the men carrying rifles or muskets, and ned believed that he recognized the younger urrea in the figure at their head. he had seen the young mexican so often and in such vivid moments that there was no phase of pose or gesture that he could forget. ned watched the column until it was hidden by the swells. it had never veered to either right or left, and its course was the same as that of his comrades and himself. he wondered a little while, and then he felt a suspicion which quickly grew into a certainty. urrea, a daring partisan leader, who rode over great distances, had heard of the schooner and its arms, and was on his way to the cove to seize them. it was for ned and his friends to prevent it. he returned, and, awakening the others, stated what he had seen. then he added his surmise. "it's likely that you're guessin' right," said "deaf" smith. "the mexicans have spies, of course, an' they get word, too, from europeans in these parts, who are not friendly to us. what do you say, boys, all of you?" "that urrea is bound for the same place we are," said obed white. "that we've got to ride hard, an' fast," said the panther. "it's our business to get there first," said karnes. "let's take to the saddle now," said will allen. ned said nothing. he had given his opinion already. they saddled their horses, and were on the plain in five minutes, riding directly in the trail of the mexican cavalry. they meant to follow until nearly dawn, and then, passing around, hurry to the cove, where the schooner, without their warning, might be unloading supplies before nightfall into the very arms of the mexicans. before dawn they faintly saw the troop ahead, and then, turning to the left, they put their mustangs into the long easy lope of the frontier, not slowing down, until they were sure that they were at least three or four miles beyond the mexicans. but they continued at a fast walk, and ate their breakfasts in the saddle. they rode through the same beautiful country, but without people, and they knew that if nothing unusual occurred they would see the sea by noon. ned went over their directions once more. the cove ran back from the sea about a mile, and its entrance was a strait not more than thirty yards wide, but deep. in fact, the entire cove was deep, being surrounded by high forested banks except at the west, into which a narrow but deep creek emptied. the only convenient landing was the creek's mouth, and they believed that they would find the schooner there. ned, in common with the others, felt the great importance of the mission on which they rode. most of the texan cannon and a great part of their rifles had been taken at the alamo and goliad. but greater even than the need of arms was that of ammunition. if urrea were able to seize the schooner, or to take the supplies, the moment after they landed, he would strike the texans a heavy blow. hence the six now pushed their horses. at ten o'clock, they caught a glimpse of the sea upon their right. five minutes later they saw a cloud of dust on their left, less than a mile away. it was moving rapidly, and it was evident at once that it was made by a large body of horse. when the dust lifted a little, they saw that it was urrea and his men. "it's likely that they have more information than we have," said the panther, "an' they are ridin' hard to make a surprise. boys, we've got to beat 'em, an', to do it, we've got to keep ahead of our dust all the time!" "the greater the haste, the greater the speed just now," said obed white. they urged their horses into a gallop. they kept close to the sea, while urrea was more than half a mile inland. luckily, a thin skirt of timber soon intervened between mexicans and texans, and the six believed that urrea and his men were unaware of their presence. their own cloud of dust was much smaller than that of the mexicans, and also it might readily be mistaken for sea sand whipped up by the wind. ned and the panther rode in front, side by side, smith and karnes followed, side by side, too, and behind came obed white and will allen, riding knee to knee. they ascended a rise and ned, whose eyes were the keenest of them all, uttered a little cry. "the schooner is there!" he exclaimed. "see, isn't that the top of a mast sticking up above those scrub trees?" "it's nothing else," said obed white, who was familiar with the sea and ships. "and it's bound, too, to be the schooner for which we are looking. forward, boys! the swift will win the race, and the battle will go to the strong!" they pressed their horses now to their greatest speed. the cove and the ship were not more than a half mile away. a quarter of a mile, and the skirt of timber failed. the mexicans on their left saw them, and increased their speed. "the schooner's anchored!" exclaimed obed, "and they are unloading! look, part of the cargo is on the bank already!" with foot and rein they took the last ounce of speed from their horses, and galloped up to a group of astonished men, who were transferring arms and ammunition by small boats from a schooner to the land already more than a hundred rifles, and a dozen barrels of powder lay upon the shore. "back to the ship! back to the ship!" cried ned, who involuntarily took the lead. "we are texans, and a powerful force of mexicans will be here inside of fifteen minutes!" the men looked at him astonished and unbelieving. ned saw among them a figure, clad in sober brown, a man with a large head and a broad, intellectual face, with deep lines of thought. he knew him at once, and cried: "mr. roylston, it is i! edward fulton! you know me! and here are captain palmer, 'deaf' smith, henry karnes, obed white and will allen! i tell you that you have no time to lose! put the supplies back on the schooner, and be as quick as you can! captain urrea and two hundred men are galloping fast to capture them!" roylston started in astonishment at the appearance of ned, whom he, too, had believed to be dead, but he wasted no time in questions. he gave quick orders to have the arms and ammunition reloaded, and directed the task himself. the panther sprang from his horse and walked back to the edge of the wood. "here they come at a gallop," he said, "and we need time. boys, hand me your rifles, as i call for them, an' i'll show you how to shoot." the panther did not mean to boast, nor did the others take it as such. he merely knew his own skill, and he meant to use it. "do as he says," said "deaf" smith to the others. "i reckon that, as davy crockett is dead, the panther is the best shot in all texas." the mexican cavalry were coming at a gallop, several hundred yards away. the panther raised his long, slender-barreled rifle, pulled the trigger, and the first horseman fell from the saddle. without turning, he held out his hands and smith thrust the second rifle into them. up went the weapon, and a second mexican saddle was empty. a third rifle and a third mexican went down, a fourth, and the result was the same. the whole mexican troop, appalled at such deadly shooting, stopped suddenly. "keep it up, panther! keep it up!" cried smith. "we need every minute of time that we can get." while the mexicans hesitated the panther sent another fatal bullet among them. then they spread out swiftly in a thin half circle, and advanced again. all the six texans now opened fire, and they were also helped by some of the men from the boat. but a part of the attacking force had gained cover and the fire was not now so effective. nevertheless the rush of the mexicans was checked, and under the directions of roylston the reloading of the schooner was proceeding rapidly. they hoisted the last of the powder and rifles over the side, and two of the boats were putting back for the defenders. the schooner, meanwhile, had taken in her anchor and was unfurling her sails. roylston was in one of the boats and, springing upon the bank, he shouted to the defenders: "come, lads! the supplies are all back on board! it's for your lives now!" all the men instantly abandoned the defence and rushed for the bank, the panther uttering a groan of anger. "i hate to leave six good horses to urrea, an' that gang," he said, "but i s'pose it has to be done." "don't grieve, panther," cried smith. "we'll take three for one later on!" "hurry up! hurry up!" said roylston. "there is no time to waste. into the boats, all of you!" they scrambled into the boats, reached the schooner, and pulled the boats to the deck after them. there was not a minute to lose. the schooner, her sails full of wind, was beginning to move, and the mexicans were already firing at her, although their bullets missed. ned and will allen threw themselves flat on the deck, and heard the mexican bullets humming over their heads. ned knew that they were still in great danger, as it was a mile to the open sea, and the mexicans galloping along by the side of the cove had begun a heavy fire upon the schooner. but the panther uttered a tremendous and joyous shout of defiance. "they can't hurt the ship as long as they ain't got cannon," he said, "an' since it's rifles, only, we'll give it back to 'em!" he and the other sharpshooters, sheltering themselves, began to rake the woods with rifle fire. the mexicans replied, and the bullets peppered the wooden sides of the schooner or cut holes through her sails. but the texans now had the superiority. they could shelter themselves on the ship, and they were also so much better marksmen that they did much damage, while suffering but little themselves. the schooner presently passed between the headlands, and then into the open sea. she did not change her course until she was eight or ten miles from land, when she turned northward. chapter xx the cry for vengeance as soon as the schooner was out of range ned and his comrades stood up on the deck, and looked back at the long low coastline, which had offered to them so much danger. at first they saw mexican horsemen on the beach, but as they went further and further out to sea they disappeared. a strong wind hummed through the sails and the schooner, heeling over a little, went swiftly northward, leaving a long white wake. ned and his comrades sat on the benches that ran around the sides of the deck. some of the rich brown color faded from the panther's face, and his eyes looked a little bit uneasy. "i'm glad to be here," he said, "glad to be out of reach of the mexicans, but i wish i was on somethin' a lot steadier than this." obed white, familiar with the waters of the maine coast, laughed. "this is just a spanking good breeze," he said. "look how the waves dance!" "let 'em dance," said the panther, "an' they can do my share of dancin', too. i never felt less like roarin' an' t'arin' an' rippin' in my life." "any way, we're getting a fine rest," said will allen. "it's pleasant to be out here, where nobody can drop suddenly on you from ambush." the schooner made another curve to the eastward, the water became smoother and the panther's qualms disappeared. food and water were brought to them on deck, and they ate and drank with good appetites. then john roylston, who had gone below, as soon as they were out of range, reappeared. he went directly to ned, shook hands with him with great energy, and said in a tone of deep gratitude: "i had given you up for lost. but you reappeared with your friends, just in time to save the most valuable of all cargoes for the texans. i should like to hear now how you rose from the dead, because i had direct information that you were in the alamo, and i know that everybody there perished." "i come, nevertheless, as the bearer of bad news," said ned, with goliad fresh in his mind. "how is that?" then ned told for the second time the dreadful deed done by order of santa anna, and it seemed to him as he told it that all the details were as vivid and terrible as ever. his desire for revenge upon the dictator and the mexicans had not diminished a particle. roylston's face, usually a mask, showed horror. "it was an awful thing to do," he said, "but it means now that santa anna will never conquer texas. no man can do such a deed and yet triumph. now, tell me how it is that you are not among the slain in the alamo." ned related the story anew, and he dwelt upon the fact that santa anna had spared him at the mention of roylston's name. but when the story was finished, the merchant was silent for quite a while. ned knew by the contraction of the lines upon the great brow that he was thinking. at last, he broke the silence. "no doubt you have wondered that my name had so much influence with santa anna," he said. "i have hinted at it before, but i will explain more fully now. i am, as you know, a merchant. i trade throughout the whole southwest, and i have ships in the gulf and the caribbean. one of them, the 'star of the south,' on which we now are, can show her heels to anything in these seas. "earlier in my life i came in contact with antonio lopez de santa anna. like many others i fell for a while under his spell. i believed that he was a great and liberal man, that he would even be able to pull mexico out of her slough of misrule and ignorance. i helped him in some of his young efforts. the splendid hacienda that he has near vera cruz was bought partly with money that i furnished. "but our friendship could not last. vain, ruthless, cruel, but with genius, santa anna can have no friends except those whom he may use. unless you submit, unless you do everything that he wishes, you are, in his opinion, a traitor to him, a malefactor and an enemy, to be crushed by trickery or force, by fair means or foul. how could i have continued dealings with such a man? "i soon saw that instead of being mexico's best friend he was her worst enemy. i drew away in time, but barely. i was in mexico when the break came, and he would have seized and imprisoned me or had me shot, but i escaped in disguise. "i retained, too, a hold upon santa anna that he has sought in vain to break. such a man as he always needs money, not a few thousands, but great sums. he has been thrifty. the treasury of mexico has been practically at his mercy, but he does not trust the banks of his own land. he has money not only in the foreign banks of mexico, but also large amounts of it in two of the great banks of london. the english deposits stand as security for the heavy sums that he owes me. his arm is long, but it does not reach to london. "he cannot pay at present without putting himself in great difficulties, and, for the time being, i wish the debt to stand. it gives me a certain power over him, although we are on opposite sides in a fierce war. when you gave him my name in san antonio, he did not put you to death because he feared that i would seize his english money when i heard of it. "the younger urrea has heard something of these debts. he is devoted to santa anna, and he knew that he would have rendered his chief an immense service if he could have secured his release from them. that was what he tried to force from me when i was in his hands, but you and your friends saved me. you little thought, edward fulton, that you were then saving your own life also. otherwise, santa anna would have had you slain instantly when you were brought before him at san antonio. ah, how thoroughly i know that man! that he can be a terrible and cruel enemy he has already proved to texas!" the others listened with deep interest to every word spoken by roylston. when he was through, the panther rose, stretched his arms, and expanded his mighty chest. all the natural brown had returned to his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled with the fire of confidence. "mr. roylston," he said, "the hosts of our foe have come an' they have devoured our people as the locusts ate up egypt in the bible, but i think our worst days have passed. we'll come back, an' we'll win." "yes," said ned. "i know as truly as if a prophet had told me that we'll square accounts with santa anna." he spoke with such sudden emphasis that the others were startled. his face seemed cut in stone. at that moment he saw only the alamo and goliad. the "star of the south" sped northward, and edward fulton sat long on her deck, dreaming of the day when the texans, himself in the first rank, should come once more face to face with antonio lopez de santa anna. this ebook was produced by david widger corrected and updated text and html pg editions of the complete volume set may be found at: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ s/ .txt http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm leila or, the siege of granada by edward bulwer lytton book iii. chapter i. isabel and the jewish maiden. while this scene took place before the tribunal of torquemada, leila had been summoned from the indulgence of fears, which her gentle nature and her luxurious nurturing had ill-fitted her to contend against, to the presence of the queen. that gifted and high-spirited princess, whose virtues were her own, whose faults were of her age, was not, it is true, without the superstition and something of the intolerant spirit of her royal spouse: but, even where her faith assented to persecution, her heart ever inclined to mercy; and it was her voice alone that ever counteracted the fiery zeal of torquemada, and mitigated the sufferings of the unhappy ones who fell under the suspicion of heresy. she had, happily, too, within her a strong sense of justice, as well as the sentiment of compassion; and often, when she could not save the accused, she prevented the consequences of his imputed crime falling upon the innocent members of his house or tribe. in the interval between his conversation with ferdinand and the examination of almamen, the dominican had sought the queen; and had placed before her, in glowing colours, not only the treason of almamen, but the consequences of the impious passion her son had conceived for leila. in that day, any connection between a christian knight and a jewess was deemed a sin, scarce expiable; and isabel conceived all that horror of her son's offence which was natural in a pious mother and a haughty queen. but, despite all the arguments of the friar, she could not be prevailed upon to render up leila to the tribunal of the inquisition; and that dread court, but newly established, did not dare, without her consent, to seize upon one under the immediate protection of the queen. "fear not, father," said isabel, with quiet firmness, "i will take upon myself to examine the maiden; and, at least, i will see her removed from all chance of tempting or being tempted by this graceless boy. but she was placed under the charge of the king and myself as a hostage and a trust; we accepted the charge, and our royal honor is pledged to the safety of the maiden. heaven forbid that i should deny the existence of sorcery, assured as we are of its emanation from the evil one; but i fear, in this fancy of juan's, that the maiden is more sinned against than sinning: and yet my son is, doubtless, not aware of the unhappy faith of the jewess; the knowledge of which alone will suffice to cure him of his error. you shake your head, father; but, i repeat, i will act in this affair so as to merit the confidence i demand. go, good tomas. we have not reigned so long without belief in our power to control and deal with a simple maiden." the queen extended her hand to the monk, with a smile so sweet in its dignity, that it softened even that rugged heart; and, with a reluctant sigh, and a murmured prayer that her counsels might be guided for the best, torquemada left the royal presence. "the poor child!" thought isabel, "those tender limbs, and that fragile form, are ill fitted for yon monk's stern tutelage. she seems gentle: and her face has in it all the yielding softness of our sex; doubtless by mild means, she may be persuaded to abjure her wretched creed; and the shade of some holy convent may hide her alike from the licentious gaze of my son and the iron zeal of the inquisitor. i will see her." when leila entered the queen's pavilion, isabel, who was alone, marked her trembling step with a compassionate eye; and, as leila, in obedience to the queen's request, threw up her veil, the paleness of her cheek and the traces of recent tears appealed to isabel's heart with more success than had attended all the pious invectives of torquemada. "maiden," said isabel, encouragingly, "i fear thou hast been strangely harassed by the thoughtless caprice of the young prince. think of it no more. but, if thou art what i have ventured to believe, and to assert thee to be, cheerfully subscribe to the means i will suggest for preventing the continuance of addresses which cannot but injure thy fair name." "ah, madam!" said leila, as she fell on one knee beside the queen, "most joyfully, most gratefully, will i accept any asylum which proffers solitude and peace." "the asylum to which i would fain lead thy steps," answered isabel, gently, "is indeed one whose solitude is holy--whose peace is that of heaven. but of this hereafter. thou wilt not hesitate, then, to quit the camp, unknown to the prince, and ere he can again seek thee?" "hesitate, madam? ah rather, how shall i express my thanks?" "i did not read that face misjudgingly," thought the queen, as she resumed. "be it so; we will not lose another night. withdraw yonder, through the inner tent; the litter shall be straight prepared for thee; and ere midnight thou shalt sleep in safety under the roof of one of the bravest knights and noblest ladies that our realm can boast. thou shalt bear with thee a letter that shall commend thee specially to the care of thy hostess--thou wilt find her of a kindly and fostering nature. and, oh, maiden!" added the queen, with benevolent warmth, "steel not thy heart against her--listen with ductile senses to her gentle ministry; and may god and his son prosper that pious lady's counsel, so that it may win a new strayling to the immortal fold!" leila listened and wondered, but made no answer; until, as she gained the entrance to the interior division of the tent, she stopped abruptly, and said, "pardon me, gracious queen, but dare i ask thee one question?--it is not of myself." "speak, and fear not." "my father--hath aught been heard of him? he promised, that ere the fifth day were past, he would once more see his child; and, alas! that date is past, and i am still alone in the dwelling of the stranger." "unhappy child!" muttered isabel to herself; "thou knowest not his treason nor his fate--yet why shouldst thou? ignorant of what would render thee blest hereafter, continue ignorant of what would afflict thee here. be cheered, maiden," answered the queen, aloud. "no doubt, there are reasons sufficient to forbid your meeting. but thou shalt not lack friends in the dwelling-house of the stranger." "ah, noble queen, pardon me, and one word more! there hath been with me, more than once, a stern old man, whose voice freezes the blood within my veins; he questions me of my father, and in the tone of a foe who would entrap from the child something to the peril of the sire. that man--thou knowest him, gracious queen--he cannot have the power to harm my father?" "peace, maiden! the man thou speakest of is the priest of god, and the innocent have nothing to dread from his reverend zeal. for thyself, i say again, be cheered; in the home to which i consign thee thou wilt see him no more. take comfort, poor child--weep not: all have their cares; our duty is to bear in this life, reserving hope only for the next." the queen, destined herself to those domestic afflictions which pomp cannot soothe, nor power allay, spoke with a prophetic sadness which yet more touched a heart that her kindness of look and tone had already softened; and, in the impulse of a nature never tutored in the rigid ceremonials of that stately court, leila suddenly came forward, and falling on one knee, seized the hand of her protectress, and kissed it warmly through her tears. "are you, too, unhappy?" she said. "i will pray for you to _my_ god!" the queen, surprised and moved at an action which, had witnesses been present, would only perhaps (for such is human nature) have offended her castilian prejudices, left her hand in leila's grateful clasp; and laying the other upon the parted and luxuriant ringlets of the kneeling maiden, said, gently,--"and thy prayers shall avail thee and me when thy god and mine are the same. bless thee, maiden! i am a mother; thou art motherless--bless thee!" chapter ii. the temptation of the jewess,--in which the history passes from the outward to the internal. it was about the very hour, almost the very moment, in which almamen effected his mysterious escape from the tent of the inquisition, that the train accompanying the litter which bore leila, and which was composed of some chosen soldiers of isabel's own body-guard, after traversing the camp, winding along that part of the mountainous defile which was in the possession of the spaniards, and ascending a high and steep acclivity, halted before the gates of a strongly fortified castle renowned in the chronicles of that memorable war. the hoarse challenge of the sentry, the grating of jealous bars, the clanks of hoofs upon the rough pavement of the courts, and the streaming glare of torches--falling upon stern and bearded visages, and imparting a ruddier glow to the moonlit buttresses and battlements of the fortress--aroused leila from a kind of torpor rather than sleep, in which the fatigue and excitement of the day had steeped her senses. an old seneschal conducted her, through vast and gloomy halls (how unlike the brilliant chambers and fantastic arcades of her moorish home) to a huge gothic apartment, hung with the arras of flemish looms. in a few moments, maidens, hastily aroused from slumber, grouped around her with a respect which would certainly not have been accorded had her birth and creed been known. they gazed with surprise at her extraordinary beauty and foreign garb, and evidently considered the new guest a welcome addition to the scanty society of the castle. under any other circumstances, the strangeness of all she saw, and the frowning gloom of the chamber to which she was consigned, would have damped the spirits of one whose destiny had so suddenly passed from the deepest quiet into the sternest excitement. but any change was a relief to the roar of the camp, the addresses of the prince, and the ominous voice and countenance of torquemada; and leila looked around her, with the feeling that the queen's promise was fulfilled, and that she was already amidst the blessings of shelter and repose. it was long, however, before sleep revisited her eyelids, and when she woke the noonday sun streamed broadly through the lattice. by the bedside sat a matron advanced in years, but of a mild and prepossessing countenance, which only borrowed a yet more attractive charm from an expression of placid and habitual melancholy. she was robed in black; but the rich pearls that were interwoven in the sleeves and stomacher, the jewelled cross that was appended from a chain of massive gold, and, still more, a certain air of dignity and command,-- bespoke, even to the inexperienced eye of leila, the evidence of superior station. "thou hast slept late, daughter," said the lady, with a benevolent smile; "may thy slumbers have refreshed thee! accept my regrets that i knew not till this morning of thine arrival, or i should have been the first to welcome the charge of my royal mistress." there was in the look, much more than in the words of the donna inez de quexada, a soothing and tender interest that was as balm to the heart of leila; in truth, she had been made the guest of, perhaps, the only lady in spain, of pure and christian blood, who did not despise or execrate the name of leila's tribe. donna inez had herself contracted to a jew a debt of gratitude which she had sought to return to the whole race. many years before the time in which our tale is cast, her husband and herself had been sojourning at naples, then closely connected with the politics of spain, upon an important state mission. they had then an only son, a youth of a wild and desultory character, whom the spirit of adventure allured to the east. in one of those sultry lands the young quexada was saved from the hands of robbers by the caravanserai of a wealthy traveller. with this stranger he contracted that intimacy which wandering and romantic men often conceive for each other, without any other sympathy than that of the same pursuits. subsequently, he discovered that his companion was of the jewish faith; and, with the usual prejudice of his birth and time, recoiled from the friendship he had solicited, and shrank from the sense of the obligation he had incurred he--quitted his companion. wearied, at length, with travel, he was journeying homeward, when he was seized with a sudden and virulent fever, mistaken for plague: all fled from the contagion of the supposed pestilence--he was left to die. one man discovered his condition-- watched, tended, and, skilled in the deeper secrets of the healing art, restored him to life and health: it was the same jew who had preserved him from the robbers. at this second and more inestimable obligation the prejudices of the spaniard vanished: he formed a deep and grateful attachment for his preserver; they lived together for some time, and the israelite finally accompanied the young quexada to naples. inez retained a lively sense of the service rendered to her only son, and the impression had been increased not only by the appearance of the israelite, which, dignified and stately, bore no likeness to the cringing servility of his brethren, but also by the singular beauty and gentle deportment of his then newly-wed bride, whom he had wooed and won in that holy land, sacred equally to the faith of christian and of jew. the young quexada did not long survive his return: his constitution was broken by long travel, and the debility that followed his fierce disease. on his deathbed he had besought the mother whom he left childless, and whose catholic prejudices were less stubborn than those of his sire, never to forget the services a jew had conferred upon him; to make the sole recompense in her power--the sole recompense the jew himself had demanded--and to lose no occasion to soothe or mitigate the miseries to which the bigotry of the time often exposed the oppressed race of his deliverer. donna inez had faithfully kept the promise she gave to the last scion of her house; and, through the power and reputation of her husband and her own connections, and still more through an early friendship with the queen, she had, on her return to spain, been enabled to ward off many a persecution, and many a charge on false pretences, to which the wealth of some son of israel made the cause, while his faith made the pretext. yet, with all the natural feelings of a rigid catholic, she had earnestly sought to render the favor she had thus obtained amongst the jews minister to her pious zeal for their more than temporal welfare. she had endeavored, by gentle means, to make the conversions which force was impotent to effect; and, in some instances, her success had been signal. the good senora had thus obtained high renown for sanctity; and isabel thought rightly that she could not select a protectress for leila who would more kindly shelter her youth, or more strenuously labor for her salvation. it was, indeed, a dangerous situation for the adherence of the maiden to that faith which it had cost her fiery father so many sacrifices to preserve and to advance. it was by little and little that donna inez sought rather to undermine than to storm the mental fortress she hoped to man with spiritual allies; and, in her frequent conversation with leila, she was at once perplexed and astonished by the simple and sublime nature of the belief upon which she waged war. for whether it was that, in his desire to preserve leila as much as possible from contact even with jews themselves, whose general character (vitiated by the oppression which engendered meanness, and the extortion which fostered avarice) almamen regarded with lofty though concealed repugnance; or whether it was, that his philosophy did not interpret the jewish formula of belief in the same spirit as the herd,-- the religion inculcated in the breast of leila was different from that which inez had ever before encountered amongst her proselytes. it was less mundane and material--a kind of passionate rather than metaphysical theism, which invested the great one, indeed, with many human sympathies and attributes, but still left him the august and awful god of the genesis, the father of a universe though the individual protector of a fallen sect. her attention had been less directed to whatever appears, to a superficial gaze, stern and inexorable in the character of the hebrew god, and which the religion of christ so beautifully softened and so majestically refined, than to those passages in which his love watched over a chosen people, and his forbearance bore with their transgressions. her reason had been worked upon to its belief by that mysterious and solemn agency, by which--when the whole world beside was bowed to the worship of innumerable deities, and the adoration of graven images,--in a small and secluded portion of earth, amongst a people far less civilised and philosophical than many by which they were surrounded, had been alone preserved a pure and sublime theism, disdaining a likeness in the things of heaven or earth. leila knew little of the more narrow and exclusive tenets of her brethren; a jewess in name, she was rather a deist in belief; a deist of such a creed as athenian schools might have taught to the imaginative pupils of plato, save only that too dark a shadow had been cast over the hopes of another world. without the absolute denial of the sadducee, almamen had, probably, much of the quiet scepticism which belonged to many sects of the early jews, and which still clings round the wisdom of the wisest who reject the doctrine of revelation; and while he had not sought to eradicate from the breast of his daughter any of the vague desire which points to a hereafter, he had never, at least, directed her thoughts or aspirations to that solemn future. nor in the sacred book which was given to her survey, and which so rigidly upheld the unity of the supreme power, was there that positive and unequivocal assurance of life beyond "the grave where all things are forgotten," that might supply the deficiencies of her mortal instructor. perhaps, sharing those notions of the different value of the sexes, prevalent, from the remotest period, in his beloved and ancestral east, almamen might have hopes for himself which did not extend to his child. and thus she grew up, with all the beautiful faculties of the soul cherished and unfolded, without thought, without more than dim and shadowy conjectures, of the eternal bourne to which the sorrowing pilgrim of the earth is bound. it was on this point that the quick eye of donna inez discovered her faith was vulnerable: who would not, if belief were voluntary, believe in the world to come? leila's curiosity and interest were aroused: she willingly listened to her new guide--she willingly inclined to conclusions pressed upon her, not with menace, but persuasion. free from the stubborn associations, the sectarian prejudices, and unversed in the peculiar traditions and accounts of the learned of her race, she found nothing to shock her in the volume which seemed but a continuation of the elder writings of her faith. the sufferings of the messiah, his sublime purity, his meek forgiveness, spoke to her woman's heart; his doctrines elevated, while they charmed, her reason: and in the heaven that a divine hand opened to all,--the humble as the proud, the oppressed as the oppressor, to the woman as to the lords of the earth,--she found a haven for all the doubts she had known, and for the despair which of late had darkened the face of earth. her home lost, the deep and beautiful love of her youth blighted,--that was a creed almost irresistible which told her that grief was but for a day, that happiness was eternal. far, too, from revolting such of the hebrew pride of association as she had formed, the birth of the messiah in the land of the israelites seemed to consummate their peculiar triumph as the elected of jehovah. and while she mourned for the jews who persecuted the saviour, she gloried in those whose belief had carried the name and worship of the descendants of david over the furthest regions of the world. often she perplexed and startled the worthy inez by exclaiming, "this, your belief, is the same as mine, adding only the assurance of immortal life--christianity is but the revelation of judaism." the wise and gentle instrument of leila's conversion did not, however, give vent to those more catholic sentiments which might have scared away the wings of the descending dove. she forbore too vehemently to point out the distinctions of the several creeds, and rather suffered them to melt insensibly one into the other: leila was a christian, while she still believed herself a jewess. but in the fond and lovely weakness of mortal emotions, there was one bitter thought that often and often came to mar the peace that otherwise would have settled on her soul. that father, the sole softener of whose stern heart and mysterious fates she was, with what pangs would he receive the news of her conversion! and muza, that bright and hero-vision of her youth--was she not setting the last seal of separation upon all hope of union with the idol of the moors? but, alas! was she not already separated from him, and had not their faiths been from the first at variance? from these thoughts she started with sighs and tears; and before her stood the crucifix already admitted into her chamber, and--not, perhaps, too wisely--banished so rigidly from the oratories of the huguenot. for the representation of that divine resignation, that mortal agony, that miraculous sacrifice, what eloquence it hath for our sorrows! what preaching hath the symbol to the vanities of our wishes, to the yearnings of our discontent! by degrees, as her new faith grew confirmed, leila now inclined herself earnestly to those pictures of the sanctity and calm of the conventual life which inez delighted to draw. in the reaction of her thoughts, and her despondency of all worldly happiness, there seemed, to the young maiden, an inexpressible charm in a solitude which was to release her for ever from human love, and render her entirely up to sacred visions and imperishable hopes. and with this selfish, there mingled a generous and sublime sentiment. the prayers of a convert might be heard in favour of those yet benighted: and the awful curse upon her outcast race be lightened by the orisons of one humble heart. in all ages, in all creeds, a strange and mystic impression has existed of the efficacy of self-sacrifice in working the redemption even of a whole people: this belief, so strong in the old orient and classic religions, was yet more confirmed by christianity--a creed founded upon the grandest of historic sacrifices; and the lofty doctrine of which, rightly understood, perpetuates in the heart of every believer the duty of self-immolation, as well as faith in the power of prayer, no matter how great the object, how mean the supplicator. on these thoughts leila meditated, till thoughts acquired the intensity of passions, and the conversion of the jewess was completed. chapter iii. the hour and the man it was on the third morning after the king of granada, reconciled to his people, had reviewed his gallant army in the vivarrambla; and boabdil, surrounded by his chiefs and nobles, was planning a deliberate and decisive battle, by assault on the christian camp,--when a scout suddenly arrived, breathless, at the gates of the palace, to communicate the unlooked-for and welcome intelligence that ferdinand had in the night broken up his camp, and marched across the mountains towards cordova. in fact, the outbreak of formidable conspiracies had suddenly rendered the appearance of ferdinand necessary elsewhere; and, his intrigues with almamen frustrated, he despaired of a very speedy conquest of the city. the spanish king resolved, therefore, after completing the devastation of the vega, to defer the formal and prolonged siege, which could alone place granada within his power, until his attention was no longer distracted to other foes, and until, it must be added, he had replenished an exhausted treasury. he had formed, with torquemada, a vast and wide scheme of persecution, not only against jews, but against christians whose fathers had been of that race, and who were suspected of relapsing into judaical practices. the two schemers of this grand design were actuated by different motives; the one wished to exterminate the crime, the other to sell forgiveness for it. and torquemada connived at the griping avarice of the king, because it served to give to himself, and to the infant inquisition, a power and authority which the dominican foresaw would be soon greater even than those of royalty itself, and which, he imagined, by scourging earth, would redound to the interests of heaven. the strange disappearance of almamen, which was distorted and exaggerated, by the credulity of the spaniards, into an event of the most terrific character, served to complete the chain of evidence against the wealthy jews, and jew-descended spaniards, of andalusia; and while, in imagination, the king already clutched the gold of their redemption here, the dominican kindled the flame that was to light them to punishment hereafter. boabdil and his chiefs received the intelligence of the spanish retreat with a doubt which soon yielded to the most triumphant delight. boabdil at once resumed all the energy for which, though but by fits and starts, his earlier youth had been remarkable. "alla achbar! god is great!" cried he; "we will not remain here till it suit the foe to confine the eagle again to his eyrie. they have left us --we will burst on them. summon our alfaquis, we will proclaim a holy war! the sovereign of the last possessions of the moors is in the field. not a town that contains a moslem but shall receive our summons, and we will gather round our standard all the children of our faith!" "may the king live for ever!" cried the council, with one voice. "lose not a moment," resumed boabdil--"on to the vivarrambla, marshal the troops--muza heads the cavalry; myself our foot. ere the sun's shadow reach yonder forest, our army shall be on its march." the warriors, hastily and in joy, left the palace; and when he was alone, boabdil again relapsed into his wonted irresolution. after striding to and fro for some minutes in anxious thought, he abruptly quitted the hall of council, and passed in to the more private chambers of the palace, till he came to a door strongly guarded by plates of iron. it yielded easily, however, to a small key which he carried in his girdle; and boabdil stood in a small circular room, apparently without other door or outlet; but, after looking cautiously round, the king touched a secret spring in the wall, which, giving way, discovered a niche, in which stood a small lamp, burning with the purest naphtha, and a scroll of yellow parchment covered with strange letters and hieroglyphics. he thrust the scroll in his bosom, took the lamp in his hand, and pressing another spring within the niche, the wall receded, and showed a narrow and winding staircase. the king reclosed the entrance, and descended: the stairs led, at last, into clamp and rough passages; and the murmur of waters, that reached his ear through the thick walls, indicated the subterranean nature of the soil through which they were hewn. the lamp burned clear and steady through the darkness of the place; and boabdil proceeded with such impatient rapidity, that the distance (in reality, considerable) which he traversed, before he arrived at his destined bourne, was quickly measured. he came at last into a wide cavern, guarded by doors concealed and secret as those which had screened the entrance from the upper air. he was in one of the many vaults which made the mighty cemetery of the monarchs of granada; and before him stood the robed and crowned skeleton, and before him glowed the magic dial-plate of which he had spoken in his interview with muza. "oh, dread and awful image!" cried the king, throwing himself on his knees before the skeleton,--"shadow of what was once a king, wise in council, and terrible in war, if in those hollow bones yet lurks the impalpable and unseen spirit, hear thy repentant son. forgive, while it is yet time, the rebellion of his fiery youth, and suffer thy daring soul to animate the doubt and weakness of his own. i go forth to battle, waiting not the signal thou didst ordain. let not the penance for a rashness, to which fate urges me on, attach to my country, but to me. and if i perish in the field, may my evil destinies be buried with me, and a worthier monarch redeem my errors and preserve granada!" as the king raised his looks, the unrelaxed grin of the grim dead, made yet more hideous by the mockery of the diadem and the royal robe, froze back to ice the passion and sorrow at his heart. he shuddered, and rose with a deep sigh; when, as his eyes mechanically followed the lifted arm of the skeleton, he beheld, with mingled delight and awe, the hitherto motionless finger of the dial-plate pass slowly on, and rest at the word so long and so impatiently desired. "arm!" cried the king; "do i read aright?--are my prayers heard?" a low and deep sound, like that of subterranean thunder, boomed through the chamber; and in the same instant the wall opened, and the king beheld the long-expected figure of almamen, the magician. but no longer was that stately form clad in the loose and peaceful garb of the eastern santon. complete armour cased his broad chest and sinewy limbs; his head alone was bare, and his prominent and impressive features were lighted, not with mystical enthusiasm, but with warlike energy. in his right hand, he carried a drawn sword--his left supported the staff of a snow-white and dazzling banner. so sudden was the apparition, and so excited the mind of the king, that the sight of a supernatural being could scarcely have impressed him with more amaze and awe. "king of granada," said almamen, "the hour hath come at last; go forth and conquer! with the christian monarch, there is no hope of peace or compact. at thy request i sought him, but my spells alone preserved the life of thy herald. rejoice! for thine evil destinies have rolled away from thy spirit, like a cloud from the glory of the sun. the genii of the east have woven this banner from the rays of benignant stars. it shall beam before thee in the front of battle--it shall rise over the rivers of christian blood. as the moon sways the bosom of the tides, it shall sway and direct the surges and the course of war!" "man of mystery! thou hast given me a new life." "and, fighting by thy side," resumed almamen, "i will assist to carve out for thee, from the ruins of arragon and castile, the grandeur of a new throne. arm, monarch of granada!--arm! i hear the neigh of thy charger, in the midst of the mailed thousands! arm!" this ebook was produced by david widger corrected and updated text and html pg editions of the complete volume set may be found at: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ s/ .txt http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm leila or, the siege of granada by edward bulwer lytton book iv. chapter. i. leila in the castle--the siege. the calmer contemplations and more holy anxieties of leila were, at length, broken in upon by intelligence, the fearful interest of which absorbed the whole mind and care of every inhabitant of the castle. boabdil el chico had taken the field, at the head of a numerous army. rapidly scouring the country, he had descended, one after one, upon the principal fortresses, which ferdinand had left, strongly garrisoned, in the immediate neighbourhood. his success was as immediate as it was signal; the terror of his arms began, once more to spread far and wide; every day swelled his ranks with new recruits; and from the snow-clad summits of the sierra nevada poured down, in wild hordes, the fierce mountain race, who, accustomed to eternal winter, made a strange contrast, in their rugged appearance and shaggy clothing, to the glittering and civilised soldiery of granada. moorish towns, which had submitted to ferdinand, broke from their allegiance, and sent their ardent youth and experienced veterans to the standard of the keys and crescent. to add to the sudden panic of the spaniards, it went forth that a formidable magician, who seemed inspired rather with the fury of a demon than the valour of a man, had made an abrupt appearance in the ranks of the moslems. wherever the moors shrank back from wall or tower, down which poured the boiling pitch, or rolled the deadly artillery of the besieged, this sorcerer--rushing into the midst of the flagging force, and waving, with wild gestures, a white banner, supposed by both moor and christian to be the work of magic and preternatural spells--dared every danger, and escaped every weapon: with voice, with prayer, with example, he fired the moors to an enthusiasm that revived the first days of mohammedan conquest; and tower after tower, along the mighty range of the mountain chain of fortresses, was polluted by the wave and glitter of the ever-victorious banner. the veteran, mendo de quexada, who, with a garrison of two hundred and fifty men, held the castle of almamen, was, however, undaunted by the unprecedented successes of boabdil. aware of the approaching storm, he spent the days of peace yet accorded to him in making every preparation for the siege that he foresaw; messengers were despatched to ferdinand; new out-works were added to the castle; ample store of provisions laid in; and no precaution omitted that could still preserve to the spaniards a fortress that, from its vicinity to granada, its command of the vega and the valleys of the alpuxarras, was the bitterest thorn in the side of the moorish power. it was early, one morning, that leila stood by the lattice of her lofty chamber gazing, with many and mingled emotions, on the distant domes of granada, as they slept in the silent sunshine. her heart, for the moment, was busy with the thoughts of home, and the chances and peril of the time were forgotten. the sound of martial music, afar off, broke upon her reveries; she started, and listened breathlessly; it became more distinct and clear. the clash of the zell, the boom of the african drum, and the wild and barbarous blast of the moorish clarion, were now each distinguishable from the other; and, at length, as she gazed and listened, winding along the steeps of the mountain were seen the gleaming spears and pennants of the moslem vanguard. another moment and the whole castle was astir. mendo de quexada, hastily arming, repaired, himself, to the battlements; and, from her lattice, leila beheld him, from time to time, stationing to the best advantage his scanty troops. in a few minutes she was joined by donna inez and the women of the castle, who fearfully clustered round their mistress,--not the less disposed, however, to gratify the passion of the sex, by a glimpse through the lattice at the gorgeous array of the moorish army. the casements of leila's chamber were peculiarly adapted to command a safe nor insufficient view of the progress of the enemy; and, with a beating heart and flushing cheek, the jewish maiden, deaf to the voices around her, imagined she could already descry amidst the horsemen the lion port and snowy garments of muza ben abil gazan. what a situation was hers! already a christian, could she hope for the success of the infidel? ever a woman, could she hope for the defeat of her lover? but the time for meditation on her destiny was but brief; the detachment of the moorish cavalry was now just without the walls of the little town that girded the castle, and the loud clarion of the heralds summoned the garrison to surrender. "not while one stone stands upon another!" was the short answer of quexada; and, in ten minutes afterwards, the sullen roar of the artillery broke from wall and tower over the vales below. it was then that the women, from leila's lattice, beheld, slowly marshalling themselves in order, the whole power and pageantry of the besieging army. thick-serried--line after line, column upon column--they spread below the frowning steep. the sunbeams lighted up that goodly array, as it swayed, and murmured, and advanced, like the billows of a glittering sea. the royal standard was soon descried waving above the pavilion of boabdil; and the king himself, mounted on his cream-coloured charger, which was covered with trappings of cloth-of-gold, was recognised amongst the infantry, whose task it was to lead the assault. "pray with us, my daughter!" cried inez, falling on her knees.-alas! what could leila pray for? four days and four nights passed away in that memorable siege; for the moon, then at her full, allowed no respite, even in night itself. their numbers, and their vicinity to granada, gave the besiegers the advantage of constant relays, and troop succeeded to troop; so that the weary had ever successors in the vigour of new assailants. on the fifth day, all of the fortress, save the keep (an immense tower), was in the hands of the moslems; and in this last hold, the worn-out and scanty remnant of the garrison mustered, in the last hope of a brave, despair. quexada appeared, covered with gore and dust-his eyes bloodshot, his cheek haggard and hollow, his locks blanched with sudden age-in the hall of the tower, where the women, half dead with terror, were assembled. "food!" cried he,--"food and wine!--it may be our last banquet." his wife threw her arms round him. "not yet," he cried, "not yet; we will have one embrace before we part." "is there, then, no hope?" said inez, with a pale cheek, yet steady eye. "none; unless to-morrow's dawn gild the spears of ferdinand's army upon yonder hills. till morn we may hold out." as he spoke, he hastily devoured some morsels of food, drained a huge goblet of wine, and abruptly quitted the chamber. at that moment, the women distinctly heard the loud shouts of the moors; and leila, approaching the grated casement, could perceive the approach of what seemed to her like moving wails. covered by ingenious constructions of wood and thick hides, the besiegers advanced to the foot of the tower in comparative shelter from the burning streams which still poured, fast and seething, from the battlements; while, in the rear came showers of darts and cross-bolts from the more distant moors, protecting the work of the engineer, and piercing through almost every loophole and crevice in the fortress. meanwhile the stalwart governor beheld, with dismay and despair, the preparations of the engineers, whom the wooden screen-works protected from every weapon. "by the holy sepulchre!" cried he, gnashing his teeth, "they are mining the tower, and we shall be buried in its ruins! look out, gonsalvo! see you not a gleam of spears yonder over the mountain? mine eyes are dim with watching." "alas! brave mendo, it is only the sloping sun upon the snows--but there is hope yet." the soldier's words terminated in a shrill and sudden cry of agony; and he fell dead by the side of quexada, the brain crushed by a bolt from a moorish arquebus. "my best warrior!" said quexada; "peace be with him! ho, there! see you yon desperate infidel urging on the miners? by the heavens above, it is he of the white banner!--it is the sorcerer! fire on him! he is without the shelter of the woodworks." twenty shafts, from wearied and nerveless arms, fell innocuous round the form of almamen: and as, waving aloft his ominous banner, he disappeared again behind the screen-works, the spaniards almost fancied they could hear his exulting and demon laugh. the sixth day came, and the work of the enemy was completed. the tower was entirely undermined--the foundations rested only upon wooden props, which, with a humanity that was characteristic of boabdil, had been placed there in order that the besieged might escape ere the final crash of their last hold. it was now noon: the whole moorish force, quitting the plain, occupied the steep that spread below the tower, in multitudinous array and breathless expectation. the miners stood aloof--the spaniards lay prostrate and exhausted upon the battlements, like mariners who, after every effort against the storm, await, resigned, and almost indifferent, the sweep of the fatal surge. suddenly the lines of the moors gave way, and boabdil himself, with muza at his right hand, and almamen on his left, advanced towards the foot of the tower. at the same time, the ethiopian guards, each bearing a torch, marched slowly in the rear; and from the midst of them paced the royal herald and sounded the last warning. the hush of the immense armament-- the glare of the torches, lighting the ebon faces and giant forms of their bearers--the majestic appearance of the king himself--the heroic aspect of muza--the bare head and glittering banner of almamen--all combined with the circumstances of the time to invest the spectacle with something singularly awful, and, perhaps, sublime. quexada turned his eyes, mutely, round the ghastly faces of his warriors, and still made not the signal. his lips muttered--his eyes glared: when, suddenly, he heard below the wail of women; and the thought of inez, the bride of his youth, the partner of his age, came upon him; and, with a trembling hand, he lowered the yet unquailing standard of spain. then, the silence below broke into a mighty shout, which shook the grim tower to its unsteady and temporary base. "arise, my friends," he said, with a bitter sigh; "we have fought like men--and our country will not blush for us." he descended the winding stairs--his soldiers followed him with faltering steps: the gates of the keep unfolded, and these gallant christians surrendered themselves to the moor. "do with it as you will," said quexada, as he laid the keys at the hoofs of boabdil's barb; "but there are women in the garrison, who--" "are sacred," interrupted the king. "at once we accord their liberty, and free transport whithersoever ye would desire. speak, then! to what place of safety shall they be conducted?" "generous king!" replied the veteran quexada, brushing away his tears with the back of his hand; "you take the sting from our shame. we accept your offer in the same spirit in which it is made. across the mountains, on the verge of the plain of olfadez, i possess a small castle, ungarrisoned and unfortified. thence, should the war take that direction, the women can readily obtain safe conduct to the queen at cordova." "be it so," returned boabdil. then, with oriental delicacy, selecting the eldest of the officers round him, he gave him instructions to enter the castle, and, with a strong guard, provide for the safety of the women, according to the directions of quexada. to another of his officers he confided the spanish prisoners, and gave the signal to his army to withdraw from the spot, leaving only a small body to complete the ruin of the fortress. accompanied by almamen and his principal officers, boabdil now hastened towards granada; and while, with slower progress, quexada and his companions, under a strong escort, took their way across the vega, a sudden turn in their course brought abruptly before them the tower they had so valiantly defended. there it still stood, proud and stern, amidst the blackened and broken wrecks around it, shooting aloft, dark and grim, against the sky. another moment, and a mighty crash sounded on their ears, while the tower fell to the earth, amidst volumes of wreathing smoke and showers of dust, which were borne, by the concussion to the spot on which they took their last gaze of the proudest fortress on which the moors of granada had beheld, from their own walls, the standard of arragon and castile. at the same time, leila--thus brought so strangely within the very reach of her father and her lover, and yet, by a mysterious fate, still divided from both,--with donna inez, and the rest of the females of the garrison, pursued her melancholy path along the ridges of the mountains. chapter ii. almamen's proposed enterprise.--the three israelites--circumstance impresses each character with a varying die. boadbil followed up his late success with a series of brilliant assaults on-the neighbouring fortresses. granada, like a strong man bowed to the ground, wrenched one after one the bands that had crippled her liberty and strength; and, at length, after regaining a considerable portion of the surrounding territory, the king resolved to lay siege to the seaport of salobrena. could he obtain this town, boabdil, by establishing communication between the sea and granada, would both be enabled to avail himself of the assistance of his african allies, and also prevent the spaniards from cutting off supplies to the city, should they again besiege it. thither, then, accompanied by muza, the moorish king bore his victorious standard. on the eve of his departure, almamen sought the king's presence. a great change had come over the canton since the departure of ferdinand; his wonted stateliness of mien was gone; his eyes were sunk and hollow; his manner disturbed and absent. in fact, his love for his daughter made the sole softness of his character; and that daughter was in the hands of the king who had sentenced the father to the tortures of the inquisition! to what dangers might she not be subjected, by the intolerant zeal of conversion! and could that frame, and gentle heart, brave the terrific engines that might be brought against her fears? "better," thought he, "that she should perish, even by the torture, than adopt that hated faith." he gnashed his teeth in agony at either alternative. his dreams, his objects, his revenge, his ambition--all forsook him: one single hope, one thought, completely mastered his stormy passions and fitful intellect. in this mood the pretended santon met boabdil. he represented to the king, over whom his influence had prodigiously increased since the late victories of the moors, the necessity of employing the armies of ferdinand at a distance. he proposed, in furtherance of this policy, to venture himself in cordova; to endeavour secretly to stir up those moors, in that, their ancient kingdom, who had succumbed to the spanish yoke, and whose hopes might naturally be inflamed by the recent successes of boabdil; and, at least, to foment such disturbances as might afford the king sufficient time to complete his designs, and recruit his force by aid of the powers with which he was in league. the representations of almamen at length conquered boabdil's reluctance to part with his sacred guide; and it was finally arranged that the israelite should at once depart from the city. as almamen pursued homeward his solitary way, he found himself suddenly accosted in the hebrew tongue. he turned hastily, and saw before him an old man in the jewish gown: he recognised elias, one of the wealthiest and most eminent of the race of israel. "pardon me, wise countryman!" said the jew, bowing to the earth, "but i cannot resist the temptation of claiming kindred with one through whom the horn of israel may be so triumphantly exalted." "hush, man!" said almamen, quickly, and looking sharply round; "i thy countryman! art thou not, as thy speech betokens, an israelite?" "yea," returned the jew, "and of the same tribe as thy honoured father-- peace be with his ashes! i remembered thee at once, boy though thou wert when thy steps shook off the dust against granada. i remembered thee, i say, at once, on thy return; but i have kept thy secret, trusting that, through thy soul and genius, thy fallen brethren might put off sackcloth and feast upon the house-tops." almamen looked hard at the keen, sharp, arab features of the jew; and at length he answered, "and how can israel be restored? wilt thou fight for her?" "i am too old, son of issachar, to bear arms; but our tribes are many, and our youth strong. amid these disturbances between dog and dog--" "the lion may get his own," interrupted almamen, impetuously,--"let us hope it. hast thou heard of the new persecutions against us that the false nazarene king has already commenced in cordova--persecutions that make the heart sick and the blood cold?" "alas!" replied elias, "such woes indeed have not failed to reach mine ear; and i have kindred, near and beloved kindred, wealthy and honoured men, scattered throughout that land." "were it not better that they should die on the field than by the rack?" exclaimed almamen, fiercely. "god of my fathers! if there be yet a spark of manhood left amongst thy people, let thy servant fan it to a flame, that shall burn as the fire burns the stubble, so that the earth may bare before the blaze!" "nay," said elias, dismayed rather than excited by the vehemence of his comrade,--"be not rash, son of issachar, be not rash: peradventure thou wilt but exasperate the wrath of the rulers, and our substance thereby will be utterly consumed." almamen drew back, placed his hand quietly on the jew's shoulder, looked him hard in the face, and, gently laughing, turned away. elias did not attempt to arrest his steps. "impracticable," he muttered; "impracticable and dangerous! i always thought so. he may do us harm: were he not so strong and fierce, i would put my knife under his left rib. verily, gold is a great thing; and--out on me! the knaves at home will be wasting the oil, now they know old elias is abroad." thereat the jew drew his cloak around him, and quickened his pace. almamen, in the meanwhile, sought, through dark and subterranean passages, known only to himself, his accustomed home. he passed much of the night alone; but, ere the morning star announced to the mountain tops the presence of the sun, he stood, prepared for his journey, in his secret vault, by the door of the subterranean passages, with old ximen beside him. "i go, ximen," said almamen, "upon a doubtful quest: whether i discover my daughter, and succeed in bearing her in safety from their contaminating grasp, or whether i fall into their snares and perish, there is an equal chance that i may return no more to granada. should this be so, you will be heir to such wealth as i leave in these places i know that your age will be consoled for the lack of children when your eyes look upon the laugh of gold." ximen bowed low, and mumbled out some inaudible protestations and thanks. almamen sighed heavily as he looked round the room. "i have evil omens in my soul, and evil prophecies in my books," said he, mournfully. "but the worst is here," he added, putting his finger significantly to his temples; "the string is stretched--one more blow would snap it." as he thus said, he opened the door and vanished through that labyrinth of galleries by which he was enabled at all times to reach unobserved either the palace of the alhambra or the gardens without the gates of the city. ximen remained behind a few moments in deep thought. "all mine if he dies!" said he: "all mine if he does not return! all mine, all mine! and i have not a child nor a kinsman in the world to clutch it away from me!" with that he locked the vault, and returned to the upper air. chapter iii. the fugitive and the meeting in their different directions the rival kings were equally successful. salobrena, but lately conquered by the christians, was thrown into a commotion by the first glimpse of boabdil's banners; the populace rose, beat back their christian guards, and opened the gates to the last of their race of kings. the garrison alone, to which the spaniards retreated, resisted boabdil's arms; and, defended by, impregnable walls, promised an obstinate and bloody siege. meanwhile, ferdinand had no sooner entered cordova than his extensive scheme of confiscation and holy persecution commenced. not only did more than five hundred jews perish in the dark and secret gripe of the grand inquisitor, but several hundred of the wealthiest christian families, in whose blood was detected the hereditary jewish taint, were thrown into prison; and such as were most fortunate purchased life by the sacrifice of half their treasures. at this time, however, there suddenly broke forth a formidable insurrection amongst these miserable subjects--the messenians of the iberian sparta. the jews were so far aroused from their long debasement by omnipotent despair, that a single spark, falling on the ashes of their ancient spirit, rekindled the flame of the descendants of the fierce warriors of palestine. they were encouraged and assisted by the suspected christians, who had been involved in the same persecution; and the whole were headed by a man who appeared suddenly amongst them, and whose fiery eloquence and martial spirit produced, at such a season, the most fervent enthusiasm. unhappily, the whole details of this singular outbreak are withheld from us; only by wary hints and guarded allusions do the spanish chroniclers apprise us of its existence and its perils. it is clear that all narrative of an event that might afford the most dangerous precedent, and was alarming to the pride and avarice of the spanish king, as well as the pious zeal of the church, was strictly forbidden; and the conspiracy was hushed in the dread silence of the inquisition, into whose hands the principal conspirators ultimately fell. we learn, only, that a determined and sanguinary struggle was followed by the triumph of ferdinand, and the complete extinction of the treason. it was one evening, that a solitary fugitive, hard chased by an armed troop of the brothers of st. hermandad, was seen emerging from a wild and rocky defile, which opened abruptly on the gardens of a small, and, by the absence of fortification and sentries, seemingly deserted, castle. behind him; in the exceeding stillness which characterises the air of a spanish twilight, he heard, at a considerable distance the blast of the horn and the tramp of hoofs. his pursuers, divided into several detachments, were scouring the country after him, as the fishermen draw their nets, from bank to bank, conscious that the prey they drive before the meshes cannot escape them at the last. the fugitive halted in doubt, and gazed round him: he was well-nigh exhausted; his eyes were bloodshot; the large drops rolled fast down his brow; his whole frame quivered and palpitated, like that of a stag when he stands at bay. beyond the castle spread a broad plain, far as the eye could reach, without shrub or hollow to conceal his form: flight across a space so favourable to his pursuers was evidently in vain. no alternative was left unless he turned back on the very path taken by the horsemen, or trusted to such scanty and perilous shelter as the copses in the castle garden might afford him. he decided on the latter refuge, cleared the low and lonely wall that girded the demesne, and plunged into a thicket of overhanging oaks and chestnuts. at that hour, and in that garden, by the side of a little fountain, were seated two females: the one of mature and somewhat advanced years; the other, in the flower of virgin youth. but the flower was prematurely faded; and neither the bloom, nor sparkle, nor undulating play of feature, that should have suited her age, was visible in the marble paleness and contemplative sadness of her beautiful countenance. "alas! my young friend," said the elder of these ladies, "it is in these hours of solitude and calm that we are most deeply impressed with the nothingness of life. thou, my sweet convert, art now the object, no longer of my compassion, but my envy; and earnestly do i feel convinced of the blessed repose thy spirit will enjoy in the lap of the mother church. happy are they who die young! but thrice happy they who die in the spirit rather than the flesh: dead to sin, but not to virtue; to terror, not to hope; to man, but not to god!" "dear senora," replied the young maiden, mournfully, "were i alone on earth, heaven is my witness with what deep and thankful resignation i should take the holy vows, and forswear the past; but the heart remains human, however divine the hope that it may cherish. and sometimes i start, and think of home, of childhood, of my strange but beloved father, deserted and childless in his old age." "thine, leila," returned the elder senora, "are but the sorrows our nature is doomed to. what matter, whether absence or death sever the affections? thou lamentest a father; i, a son, dead in the pride of his youth and beauty--a husband, languishing in the fetters of the moor. take comfort for thy sorrows, in the reflection that sorrow is the heritage of all." ere leila could reply, the orange-boughs that sheltered the spot where they sat were put aside, and between the women and the fountain stood the dark form of almamen the israelite. leila rose, shrieked, and flung herself, unconscious, on his breast. "o lord of israel!" cried almamen, in atone of deep anguish. "i, then, at last regain my child? do i press her to my heart? and is it only for that brief moment, when i stand upon the brink of death? leila, my child, look up! smile upon thy father; let him feel, on his maddening and burning brow, the sweet breath of the last of his race, and bear with him, at least, one holy and gentle thought to the dark grave." "my father! is it indeed my father?" said leila, recovering herself, and drawing back, that she might assure herself of that familiar face; "it is thou! it is--it is! oh! what blessed chance brings us together?" "that chance is the destiny that hurries me to my tomb," answered almamen, solemnly. "hark! hear you not the sound of their rushing steeds--their impatient voices? they are on me now!" "who? of whom speakest thou?" "my pursuers--the horsemen of the spaniard." "oh, senora, save him!" cried leila, turning to donna inez, whom both father and child had hitherto forgotten, and who now stood gazing upon almamen with wondering and anxious eyes. "whither can he fly? the vaults of the castle may conceal him. this way-hasten!" "stay," said inez, trembling, and approaching close to almamen: "do i see aright? and, amidst the dark change of years and trial, do i recognise that stately form, which once contrasted to the sad eye of a mother the drooping and faded form of her only son? art thou not he who saved my boy from the pestilence, who accompanied him to the shores of naples, and consigned him to these arms? look on me! dost thou not recall the mother of thy friend?" "i recall thy features dimly and as in a dream," answered the hebrew; "and while thou speakest, there rush upon me the memories of an earlier time, in lands where leila first looked upon the day, and her mother sang to me at sunset by the stream of the euphrates, and on the sites of departed empires. thy son--i remember now: i had friendship then with a christian--for i was still young." "waste not the time--father--senora!" cried leila, impatiently clinging still to her father's breast. "you are right; nor shall your sire, in whom i thus wonderfully recognise my son's friend, perish if i can save him." inez then conducted her strange guest to a small door in the rear of the castle; and after leading him through some of the principal apartments, left him in one of the tiring-rooms adjoining her own chamber, and the entrance to which the arras concealed. she rightly judged this a safer retreat than the vaults of the castle might afford, since her great name and known intimacy with isabel would preclude all suspicion of her abetting in the escape of the fugitive, and keep those places the most secure in which, without such aid, he could not have secreted himself. in a few minutes, several of the troop arrived at the castle, and on learning the name of its owner contented themselves with searching the gardens, and the lower and more exposed apartments; and then recommending to the servants a vigilant look-out remounted, and proceeded to scour the plain, over which now slowly fell the starlight and shade of night. when leila stole, at last, to the room in which almamen was hid, she found him, stretched on his mantle, in a deep sleep. exhausted by all he had undergone, and his rigid nerves, as it were, relaxed by the sudden softness of that interview with his child, the slumber of that fiery wanderer was as calm as an infant's. and their relation almost seemed reversed; and the daughter to be as a mother watching over her offspring, when leila seated herself softly by him, fixing her eyes--to which the tears came ever, ever to be brushed away-upon his worn but tranquil features, made yet more serene by the quiet light that glimmered through the casement. and so passed the hours of that night; and the father and the child--the meek convert, the revengeful fanatic--were under the same roof. chapter iv. almamen hears and sees, but refuses to believe; for the brain, overwrought, grows dull, even in the keenest. the dawn broke slowly upon the chamber, and almamen still slept. it was the sabbath of the christians--that day on which the saviour rose from the dead--thence named so emphatically and sublimely by the early church the lord's day. [before the christian era, the sunday was, however, called the lord's day--i.e., the day of the lord the sun.] and as the ray of the sun flashed in the east it fell like a glory, over a crucifix, placed in the deep recess of the gothic casement; and brought startlingly before the eyes of leila that face upon which the rudest of the catholic sculptors rarely fail to preserve the mystic and awful union of the expiring anguish of the man with the lofty patience of the god. it looked upon her, that face; it invited, it encouraged, while it thrilled and subdued. she stole gently from the side of her father; she crept to the spot, and flung herself on her knees beside the consecrated image. "support me, o redeemer!" she murmured--"support thy creature! strengthen her steps in the blessed path, though it divide her irrevocably from all that on earth she loves: and if there be a sacrifice in her solemn choice, accept, o thou, the crucified! accept it, in part atonement of the crime of her stubborn race; and, hereafter, let the lips of a maiden of judaea implore thee, not in vain, for some mitigation of the awful curse that hath fallen justly upon her tribe." as broken by low sobs, and in a choked and muttered voice, leila poured forth her prayer, she was startled by a deep groan; and turning, in alarm she saw that almamen had awaked, and, leaning on his arm, was now bending upon her his dark eyes, once more gleaming with all their wonted fire. "speak," he said, as she coweringly hid her face, "speak to me, or i shall be turned to stone by one horrid thought. it is not before that symbol that thou kneelest in adoration; and my sense wanders, if it tell me that thy broken words expressed the worship of an apostate? in mercy, speak!" "father!" began leila; but her lips refused to utter more than that touching and holy word. almamen rose; and plucking the hands from her face, gazed on her some moments, as if he would penetrate her very soul; and leila, recovering her courage in the pause, by degrees met his eyes unquailing--her pure and ingenuous brow raised to his, and sadness, but not guilt, speaking from every line of that lovely face. "thou dost not tremble," said almamen, at length, breaking the silence, "and i have erred. thou art not the criminal i deemed thee. come to my arms!" "alas!" said leila, obeying the instinct, and casting herself upon that rugged bosom. "i will dare, at least, not to disavow my god. father! by that dread anathema which is on our race, which has made us homeless and powerless--outcasts and strangers in the land; by the persecution and anguish we have known, teach thy lordly heart that we are rightly punished for the persecution and the anguish we doomed to him, whose footstep hallowed our native earth! first, in the history of the world, did the stern hebrews inflict upon mankind the awful crime of persecution for opinions sake. the seed we sowed hath brought forth the dead sea fruit upon which we feed. i asked for resignation and for hope: i looked upon yonder cross, and i found both. harden not thy heart; listen to thy child; wise though thou be, and weak though her woman spirit, listen to me." "be dumb!" cried almamen, in such a voice as might have come from the charnel, so ghostly and deathly sounded its hollow tone; then, recoiling some steps, he placed both his hands upon his temples, and muttered, "mad, mad! yes, yes, this is but a delirium, and i am tempted with a devil! oh, my child!" he resumed, in a voice that became, on the sudden, inexpressibly tender and imploring, "i have been sorely tried; and i dreamt a feverish dream of passion and revenge. be thine the lips, and thine the soothing hand, that shall wake me from it. let us fly for ever from these hated lands; let us leave to these miserable infidels their bloody contest, careless which shall fall. to a soil on which the iron heel does not clang, to an air where man's orisons rise, in solitude, to the great jehovah, let us hasten our weary steps. come! while the castle yet sleeps, let us forth unseen--the father and the child. we will hold sweet commune by the way. and hark ye, leila," he added, in a low and abrupt whisper, "talk not to me of yonder symbol; for thy god is a jealous god, and hath no likeness in the graven image." had he been less exhausted by long travail and racking thoughts, far different, perhaps, would have been the language of a man so stern. but circumstance impresses the hardest substance; and despite his native intellect and affected superiority over others, no one, perhaps, was more human, in his fitful moods,--his weakness and his strength, his passion and his purpose,--than that strange man, who had dared, in his dark studies and arrogant self-will, to aspire beyond humanity. that was, indeed, a perilous moment for the young convert. the unexpected softness of her father utterly subdued her; nor was she sufficiently possessed of that all-denying zeal of the catholic enthusiast to which every human tie and earthly duty has been often sacrificed on the shrine of a rapt and metaphysical piety. whatever her opinions, her new creed, her secret desire of the cloister, fed as it was by the sublime, though fallacious notion, that in her conversion, her sacrifice, the crimes of her race might be expiated in the eyes of him whose death had been the great atonement of a world; whatever such higher thoughts and sentiments, they gave way, at that moment, to the irresistible impulse of household nature and of filial duty. should she desert her father, and could that desertion be a virtue? her heart put and answered both questions in a breath. she approached almamen, placed her hand in his, and said, steadily and calmly, "father, wheresoever thou goest, i will wend with thee." but heaven ordained to each another destiny than might have been theirs, had the dictates of that impulse been fulfilled. ere almamen could reply, a trumpet sounded clear and loud at the gate. "hark!" he said, griping his dagger, and starting back to a sense of the dangers round him. "they come--my pursuers and my murtherers!--but these limbs are sacred from--the rack." even that sound of ominous danger was almost a relief to leila: "i will go," she said, "and learn what the blast betokens; remain here--be cautious--i will return." several minutes, however, elapsed before leila reappeared; she was accompanied by donna inez, whose paleness and agitation betokened her alarm. a courier had arrived at the gate to announce the approach of the queen, who, with a considerable force, was on her way to join ferdinand, then, in the usual rapidity of his movements, before one of the moorish towns that had revolted from his allegiance. it was impossible for almamen to remain in safety in the castle; and the only hope of escape was departing immediately and in disguise. "i have," she said, "a trusty and faithful servant with me in the castle, to whom i can, without anxiety, confide the charge of your safety; and even if suspected by the way, my name, and the companionship of my servant, will remove all obstacles; it is not a long journey hence to guadix, which has already revolted to the moors: there, till the armies of ferdinand surround the walls, your refuge may be secure." almamen remained for some moments plunged in a gloomy silence. but, at length, he signified his assent to the plan proposed, and donna inez hastened to give the directions of his intended guide. "leila," said the hebrew, when left alone with his daughter, "think not that it is for mine own safety that i stoop to this flight from thee. no! but never till thou wert lost to me, by mine own rash confidence in another, did i know how dear to my heart was the last scion of my race, the sole memorial left to me of thy mother's love. regaining thee once more, a new and a soft existence opens upon my eyes; and the earth seems to change, as by a sudden revolution, from winter into spring. for thy sake, i consent to use all the means that man's intellect can devise for preservation from my foes. meanwhile, here will rest my soul; to this spot, within one week from this period--no matter through what danger i pass--i shall return: then i shall claim thy promise. i will arrange all things for our flight, and no stone shall harm thy footstep by the way. the lord of israel be with thee, my daughter, and strengthen thy heart! but," he added, tearing himself from her embrace, as he heard steps ascending to the chamber, "deem not that, in this most fond and fatherly affection, i forget what is due to me and thee. think not that my love is only the brute and insensate feeling of the progenitor to the offspring: i love thee for thy mother's sake--i love thee for thine own-- i love thee yet more for the sake of israel. if thou perish, if thou art lost to us, thou, the last daughter of the house of issachar, then the haughtiest family of god's great people is extinct." here inez appeared at the door, but withdrew, at the impatient and lordly gesture of almamen, who, without further heed of the interruption, resumed: "i look to thee, and thy seed, for the regeneration which i once trusted, fool that i was, mine own day might see effected. let this pass. thou art under the roof of the nazarene. i will not believe that the arts we have resisted against fire and sword can prevail with thee. but, if i err, awful will be the penalty! could i once know that thou hadst forsaken thy ancestral creed, though warrior and priest stood by thee, though thousands and ten thousands were by thy right hand, this steel should save the race of issachar from dishonour. beware! thou weepest; but, child, i warn, not threaten. god be with thee!" he wrung the cold hand of his child, turned to the door, and, after such disguise as the brief time allowed him could afford, quitted the castle with his spanish guide, who, accustomed to the benevolence of his mistress, obeyed her injunction without wonder, though not without suspicion. the third part of an hour had scarcely elapsed, and the sun was yet on the mountain-tops, when isabel arrived. she came to announce that the outbreaks of the moorish towns in the vicinity rendered the half- fortified castle of her friend no longer a secure abode; and she honoured the spanish lady with a command to accompany her, with her female suite, to the camp of ferdinand. leila received the intelligence with a kind of stupor. her interview with her father, the strong and fearful contests of emotion which that interview occasioned, left her senses faint and dizzy; and when she found herself, by the twilight star, once more with the train of isabel, the only feeling that stirred actively through her stunned and bewildered mind, was, that the hand of providence conducted her from a temptation that, the reader of all hearts knew, the daughter and woman would have been too feeble to resist. on the fifth day from his departure, almamen returned to find the castle deserted, and his daughter gone. chapter v. in the ferment of great events the dregs rise. the israelites did not limit their struggles to the dark conspiracy to which allusion has been made. in some of the moorish towns that revolted from ferdinand, they renounced the neutrality they had hitherto maintained between christian and moslem. whether it was that they were inflamed by the fearful and wholesale barbarities enforced by ferdinand and the inquisition against their tribe, or whether they were stirred up by one of their own order, in whom was recognised the head of their most sacred family; or whether, as is most probable, both causes combined-- certain it is, that they manifested a feeling that was thoroughly unknown to the ordinary habits and policy of that peaceable people. they bore great treasure to the public stock--they demanded arms, and, under their own leaders, were admitted, though with much jealousy and precaution, into the troops of the arrogant and disdainful moslems. in this conjunction of hostile planets, ferdinand had recourse to his favourite policy of wile and stratagem. turning against the jews the very treaty almamen had once sought to obtain in their favour, he caused it to be circulated, privately, that the jews, anxious to purchase their peace with him, had promised to betray the moorish towns, and granada itself into his hands. the paper, which ferdinand himself had signed in his interview with almamen, and of which, on the capture of the hebrew, he had taken care to repossess himself, he gave to a spy whom he sent, disguised as a jew, into one of the revolted cities. private intelligence reached the moorish ringleader of the arrival of this envoy. he was seized, and the document found on his person. the form of the words drawn up by almamen (who had carefully omitted mention of his own name--whether that which he assumed, or that which, by birth, he should have borne) merely conveyed the compact, that if by a jew, within two weeks from the date therein specified, granada was delivered to the christian king, the jews should enjoy certain immunities and rights. the discovery of this document filled the moors of the city to which the spy had been sent with a fury that no words can describe. always distrusting their allies, they now imagined they perceived the sole reason of their sudden enthusiasm, of their demand for arms. the mob rose: the principal jews were seized and massacred without trial; some by the wrath of the multitude, some by the slower tortures of the magistrate. messengers were sent to the different revolted towns, and, above all, to granada itself, to put the moslems on their guard against these unhappy enemies of either party. at once covetous and ferocious, the moors rivalled the inquisition in their cruelty, and ferdinand in their extortion. it was the dark fate of almamen, as of most premature and heated liberators of the enslaved, to double the terrors and the evils he had sought to cure. the warning arrived at granada at a time in which the vizier, jusef, had received the commands of his royal master, still at the siege of salobrena, to use every exertion to fill the wasting treasuries. fearful of new exactions against the moors, the vizier hailed, as a message from heaven, so just a pretext for a new and sweeping impost on the jews. the spendthrift violence of the mob was restrained, because it was headed by the authorities, who were wisely anxious that the state should have no rival in the plunder it required; and the work of confiscation and robbery was carried on with a majestic and calm regularity, which redounded no less to the credit of jusef than it contributed to the coffers of the king. it was late, one evening, when ximen was making his usual round through the chambers of almamen's house. as he glanced around at the various articles of wealth and luxury, he ever and anon burst into a low, fitful chuckle, rubbed his lean hands, and mumbled out, "if my master should die! if my master should die!" while thus engaged, he heard a confused and distant shout; and, listening attentively, he distinguished a cry, grown of late sufficiently familiar, of, "live, jusef the just--perish, the traitor jews!" "ah!" said ximen, as the whole character of his face changed; "some new robbery upon our race! and this is thy work, son of issachar! madman that thou wert, to be wiser than thy sires, and seek to dupe the idolaters in the council chamber and the camp--their field, their vantage ground; as the bazaar and the market-place are ours. none suspect that the potent santon is the traitor jew; but i know it! i could give thee to the bow-string--and, if thou overt dead, all thy goods and gold, even to the mule at the manger, would be old ximen's." he paused at that thought, shut his eyes, and smiled at the prospect his fancy conjured up and completing his survey, retired to his own chamber, which opened, by a small door, upon one of the back courts. he had scarcely reached the room, when he heard a low tap at the outer door; and, when it was thrice repeated, he knew that it was one of his jewish- brethren. for ximen--as years, isolation, and avarice gnawed away whatever of virtue once put forth some meagre fruit from a heart naturally bare and rocky--still reserved one human feeling towards his countrymen. it was the bond which unites all the persecuted: and ximen loved them, because he could not envy their happiness. the power--the knowledge--the lofty, though wild designs of his master, stung and humbled him--he secretly hated, because he could not compassionate or contemn him. but the bowed frame, and slavish voice, and timid nerves of his crushed brotherhood presented to the old man the likeness of things that could not exult over him. debased and aged, and solitary as he was, he felt a kind of wintry warmth in the thought that even he had the power to protect! he thus maintained an intercourse with his fellow israelites; and often, in their dangers, had afforded them a refuge in the numerous vaults and passages, the ruins of which may still be descried beneath the mouldering foundations of that mysterious mansion. and, as the house was generally supposed the property of an absent emir, and had been especially recommended to the care of the cadis by boabdil, who alone of the moors knew it as one of the dwelling-places of the santon, whose ostensible residence was in apartments allotted to him within the palace,--it was, perhaps, the sole place within granada which afforded an unsuspected and secure refuge to the hunted israelites. when ximen recognised the wonted signal of his brethren, he crawled to the door; and, after the precaution of a hebrew watchword, replied to in the same tongue, he gave admittance to the tall and stooping frame of the rich elias. "worthy and excellent master!" said ximen, after again securing the entrance; "what can bring the honoured and wealthy elias to the chamber of the poor hireling?" "my friend," answered the jew; "call me not wealthy, nor honoured. for years i have dwelt within the city; safe and respected, even by the moslemin; verily and because i have purchased with jewel and treasure the protection of the king and the great men. but now, alas! in the sudden wrath of the heathen--ever imagining vain things--i have been summoned into the presence of their chief rabbi, and only escaped the torture by a sum that ten years of labour and the sweat of my brow cannot replace. ximen! the bitterest thought of all is, that the frenzy of one of our own tribe has brought this desolation upon israel." "my lord speaks riddles," said ximen, with well-feigned astonishment in his glassy eyes. "why dost thou wind and turn, good ximen?" said the jew, shaking his head; "thou knowest well what my words drive at. thy master is the pretended almamen; and that recreant israelite (if israelite, indeed, still be one who hath forsaken the customs and the forms of his forefathers) is he who hath stirred up the jews of cordova and guadix, and whose folly hath brought upon us these dread things. holy abraham! this jew hath cost me more than fifty nazarenes and a hundred moors." ximen remained silent; and, the tongue of elias being loosed by the recollection of his sad loss, the latter continued: "at the first, when the son of issachar reappeared, and became a counsellor in the king's court, i indeed, who had led him, then a child, to the synagogue--for old issachar was to me dear as a brother--recognised him by his eyes and voice: but i exulted in his craft and concealment; i believed he would work mighty things for his poor brethren, and would obtain, for his father's friend, the supplying of the king's wives and concubines with raiment and cloth of price. but years have passed: he hath not lightened our burthens; and, by the madness that hath of late come over him, heading the heathen armies, and drawing our brethren into danger and death, he hath deserved the curse of the synagogue, and the wrath of our whole race. i find, from our brethren who escaped the inquisition by the surrender of their substance, that his unskilful and frantic schemes were the main pretext for the sufferings of the righteous under the nazarene; and, again, the same schemes bring on us the same oppression from the moor. accursed be he, and may his name perish!" ximen sighed, but remained silent, conjecturing to what end the jew would bring his invectives. he was not long in suspense. after a pause, elias recommenced, in an altered and more careless tone, "he is rich, this son of issachar--wondrous rich." "he has treasures scattered over half the cities of africa and the orient," said ximen. "thou seest, then, my friend, that thy master hath doomed me to a heavy loss. i possess his secret; i could give him up to the king's wrath; i could bring him to the death. but i am just and meek: let him pay my forfeiture, and i will forego mine anger." "thou dost not know him," said ximen, alarmed at the thought of a repayment, which might grievously diminish his own heritage--of almamen's effects in granada. "but if i threaten him with exposure?" "thou wouldst feed the fishes of the darro," interrupted ximen. "nay, even now, if almamen learn that thou knowest his birth and race, tremble! for thy days in the land will be numbered." "verily," exclaimed the jew, in great alarm, "then have i fallen into the snare; for these lips revealed to him that knowledge." "then is the righteous elias a lost man, within ten days from that in which almamen returns to granada. i know my master: and blood is to him as water." "let the wicked be consumed!" cried elias, furiously stamping his foot, while fire flashed from his dark eyes, for the instinct of self- preservation made him fierce. "not from me, however," he added, more calmly, "will come his danger. know that there be more than a hundred jews in this city, who have sworn his death; jews who, flying hither from cordova, have seen their parents murdered and their substance seized, and who behold, in the son of issachar, the cause of the murder and the spoil. they have detected the impostor, and a hundred knives are whetting even now for his blood: let him look to it. ximen, i have spoken to thee as the foolish speak; thou mayest betray me to thy lord; but from what i have learned of thee from our brethren, i have poured my heart into thy bosom without fear. wilt thou betray israel, or assist us to smite the traitor?" ximen mused for a moment, and his meditation conjured up the treasures of his master. he stretched forth his right hand to elias; and when the israelites parted, they were friends. chapter vi. boadbil's return.--the reappearance of granada. the third morning from this interview, a rumour reached granada that boabdil had been repulsed in his assault on the citadel of salobrena with a severe loss; that hernando del pulgar had succeeded in conducting to its relief a considerable force; and that the army of ferdinand was on its march against the moorish king. in the midst of the excitement occasioned by these reports, a courier arrived to confirm their truth, and to announce the return of boabdil. at nightfall, the king, preceding his army, entered the city, and hastened to bury himself in the alhambra. as he passed dejectedly into the women's apartments, his stern mother met him. "my son," she said, bitterly, "dost thou return and not a conqueror?" before boabdil could reply, a light and rapid step sped through the glittering arcades; and weeping with joy, and breaking all the oriental restraints, amine fell upon his bosom. "my beloved! my king! light of mine eyes! thou hast returned. welcome--for thou art safe." the different form of these several salutations struck boabdil forcibly. "thou seest, my mother," said he, "how great the contrast between those who love us from affection, and those who love us from pride. in adversity, god keep me, o my mother, from thy tongue!" "but i love thee from pride, too," murmured amine; "and for that reason is thine adversity dear to me, for it takes thee from the world to make thee more mine own and i am proud of the afflictions that my hero shares with his slave." "lights there, and the banquet!" cried the king, turning from his haughty mother; "we will feast and be merry while we may. my adored amine, kiss me!" proud, melancholy, and sensitive as he was in that hour of reverse, boabdil felt no grief: such balm has love for our sorrows, when its wings are borrowed from the dove! and although the laws of the eastern life confined to the narrow walls of a harem the sphere of amine's gentle influence; although, even in romance, the natural compels us to portray her vivid and rich colours only in a faint and hasty sketch, yet still are left to the outline the loveliest and the noblest features of the sex--the spirit to arouse us to exertion, the softness to console us in our fall! while boabdil and the body of the army remained in the city, muza, with a chosen detachment of the horse, scoured the country to visit the newly- acquired cities, and sustain their courage. from this charge he was recalled by the army of ferdinand, which once more poured down into the vega, completely devastated its harvests, and then swept back to consummate the conquests of the revolted towns. to this irruption succeeded an interval of peace--the calm before the storm. from every part of spain, the most chivalric and resolute of the moors, taking advantage of the pause in the contest, flocked to granada; and that city became the focus of all that paganism in europe possessed of brave and determined spirits. at length, ferdinand, completing his conquests, and having refilled his treasury, mustered the whole force of his dominions--forty thousand foot, and ten thousand horse; and once more, and for the last time, appeared before the walls of granada. a solemn and prophetic determination filled both besiegers and besieged: each felt that the crowning crisis was at hand. chapter vii. the conflagration.--the majesty of an individual passion in the midst of hostile thousands. it was the eve of a great and general assault upon granada, deliberately planned by the chiefs of the christian army. the spanish camp (the most gorgeous christendom had ever known) gradually grew calm and hushed. the shades deepened--the stars burned forth more serene and clear. bright, in that azure air, streamed the silken tents of the court, blazoned with heraldic devices, and crowned by gaudy banners, which, filled by a brisk and murmuring wind from the mountains, flaunted gaily on their gilded staves. in the centre of the camp rose the pavilion of the queen--a palace in itself. lances made its columns; brocade and painted arras its walls; and the space covered by its numerous compartments would have contained the halls and outworks of an ordinary castle. the pomp of that camp realised the wildest dreams of gothic, coupled with oriental splendour; something worthy of a tasso to have imagined, or a beckford to create. nor was the exceeding costliness of the more courtly tents lessened in effect by those of the soldiery in the outskirts, many of which were built from boughs, still retaining their leaves--savage and picturesque huts;--as if, realising old legends, wild men of the woods had taken up the cross, and followed the christian warriors against the swarthy followers of termagaunt and mahound. there, then, extended that mighty camp in profound repose, as the midnight threw deeper and longer shadows over the sward from the tented avenues and canvas streets. it was at that hour that isabel, in the most private recess of her pavilion, was employed in prayer for the safety of the king, and the issue of the sacred war. kneeling before the altar of that warlike oratory, her spirit became rapt and absorbed from earth in the intensity of her devotions; and in the whole camp (save the sentries), the eyes of that pious queen were, perhaps, the only ones unclosed. all was profoundly still; her guards, her attendants, were gone to rest; and the, tread of the sentinel, without that immense pavilion, was not heard through the silken walls. it was then that isabel suddenly felt a strong grasp upon her shoulder, as she still knelt by the altar. a faint shriek burst from her lips; she turned, and the broad curved knife of an eastern warrior gleamed close before her eyes. "hush! utter a cry, breathe more loudly than thy wont, and, queen though thou art, in the centre of swarming thousands, thou diest!" such were the words that reached the ear of the royal castilian, whispered by a man of stern and commanding, though haggard aspect. "what is thy purpose? wouldst thou murder me?" said the queen, trembling, perhaps for the first time, before a mortal presence. "thy life is safe, if thou strivest not to delude or to deceive me. our time is short--answer me. i am almamen, the hebrew. where is the hostage rendered to thy hands? i claim my child. she is with thee--i know it. in what corner of thy camp?" "rude stranger!" said isabel, recovering somewhat from her alarm,--"thy daughter is removed, i trust for ever, from thine impious reach. she is not within the camp." "lie not, queen of castile," said almamen, raising his knife; "for days and weeks i have tracked thy steps, followed thy march, haunted even thy slumbers, though men of mail stood as guards around them; and i know that my daughter has been with thee. think not i brave this danger without resolves the most fierce and dread. answer me, where is my child?" "many days since," said isabel, awed, despite herself, by her strange position,--"thy daughter left the camp for the house of god. it was her own desire. the saviour hath received her into his fold." had a thousand lances pierced his heart, the vigour and energy of life could scarce more suddenly have deserted almamen. the rigid muscles of his countenance relaxed at once, from resolve and menace, into unutterable horror, anguish, and despair. he recoiled several steps; his knees trembled violently; he seemed stunned by a death-blow. isabel, the boldest and haughtiest of her sex, seized that moment of reprieve; she sprang forward, darted through the draperies into the apartments occupied by her train, and, in a moment, the pavilion resounded with her cries for aid. the sentinels were aroused; retainers sprang from their pillows; they heard the cause of the alarm; they made to the spot; when, ere they reached its partition of silk, a vivid and startling blaze burst forth upon them. the tent was on fire. the materials fed the flame like magic. some of the guards had yet the courage to dash forward; but the smoke and the glare drove them back, blinded and dizzy. isabel herself had scarcely time for escape, so rapid was the conflagration. alarmed for her husband, she rushed to his tent--to find him already awakened by the noise, and issuing from its entrance, his drawn sword in his hand. the wind, which had a few minutes before but curled the triumphant banners, now circulated the destroying flame. it spread from tent to tent, almost as a flash of lightning that shoots along neighbouring clouds. the camp was in one continued blaze, ere a man could dream of checking the conflagration. not waiting to hear the confused tale of his royal consort, ferdinand, exclaiming, "the moors have done this--they will be on us!" ordered the drums to beat and the trumpets to sound, and hastened in person, wrapped merely in his long mantle, to alarm his chiefs. while that well- disciplined and veteran army, fearing every moment the rally of the foe, endeavoured rapidly to form themselves into some kind of order, the flame continued to spread till the whole heavens were illumined. by its light, cuirass and helmet glowed, as in the furnace, and the armed men seemed rather like life-like and lurid meteors than human forms. the city of granada was brought near to them by the intensity of the glow; and, as a detachment of cavalry spurred from the camp to meet the anticipated surprise of the paynims, they saw, upon the walls and roofs of granada, the moslems clustering and their spears gleaming. but, equally amazed with the christians, and equally suspicious of craft and design, the moors did not issue from their gates. meanwhile the conflagration, as rapid to die as to begin, grew fitful and feeble; and the night seemed to fall with a melancholy darkness over the ruin of that silken city. ferdinand summoned his council. he had now perceived it was no ambush of the moors. the account of isabel, which, at last, he comprehended; the strange and almost miraculous manner in which almamen had baffled his guards, and penetrated to the royal tent; might have aroused his gothic superstition, while it relieved his more earthly apprehensions, if he had not remembered the singular, but far from supernatural dexterity with which eastern warriors and even robbers continued then, as now, to elude the most vigilant precautions and baffle the most wakeful guards; and it was evident that the fire which burned the camp of an army had been kindled merely to gratify the revenge, or favour the escape of an individual. shaking, therefore, from his kingly spirit the thrill of superstitious awe that the greatness of the disaster, when associated with the name of a sorcerer, at first occasioned, he resolved to make advantage out of misfortune itself. the excitement, the wrath of the troops, produced the temper most fit for action. "and heaven," said the king of spain to his knights and chiefs, as they assembled round him, "has, in this conflagration, announced to the warriors of the cross, that henceforth their camp shall be the palaces of granada! woe to the moslem with to-morrow's sun!" arms clanged, and swords leaped from their sheaths, as the christian knights echoed the anathema--"woe to the moslem!" [frontispiece: all were dead, as it were one long cemetery.] historical romances of france the blockade of phalsburg an episode of the end of the empire translated from the french of erckmann-chatrian illustrated charles scribner's sons new york:::::::::::::::::::::: copyright, , by charles scribner & co. copyright, , charles scribner's sons illustrations _all were dead, as it were one long cemetery_ . . . . . _frontispiece_ "_be so good as to come in, mr. sergeant_" _i shuddered in my very soul and my hair bristled_ _winter took him by the collar, and said:_ "_i have you now!_" _the sortie from the tile-kiln_ introductory note "the blockade of phalsburg" contains one of the happiest portraits in the erckmann-chatrian gallery--that of the jew moses who tells the story and who is always in character, however great the patriotic or romantic temptation to idealize him, and whose character is nevertheless portrayed with an almost affectionate appreciation of the sterling qualities underlying its somewhat usurious exterior. the time is , during the invasion of france by the allies after the disastrous battle of leipsic and the campaign described in "the conscript." the dwellers in phalsburg--a little walled town of two or three thousand inhabitants in lorraine--defend themselves with great intrepidity and determination during the siege which lasts until the capitulation of paris. the daily life of the citizens and garrison, the various incidents of the blockade, the bombardment by night, the scarcity of food, the occasional sortie for foraging, all pass before the reader depicted with the authors' customary fidelity and life-likeness, and form as perfect a picture of a siege as "the conscript" does of a campaign. the blockade: an episode of the end of the empire i father moses and his family since you wish to know about the blockade of phalsburg in , i will tell you all about it, said father moses of the jews' street. i lived then in the little house on the corner, at the right of the market. my business was selling iron by the pound, under the arch below, and i lived above with my wife sorlé (sarah) and my little sâfel, the child of my old age. my two other boys, itzig and frômel, had gone to america, and my daughter zeffen was married to baruch, the leather-dealer, at saverne. besides my iron business, i traded in old shoes, old linen, and all the articles of old clothing which conscripts sell on reaching the depot, where they receive their military outfit. travelling pedlers bought the old linen of me for paper-rags, and the other things i sold to the country people. this was a profitable business, because thousands of conscripts passed through phalsburg from week to week, and from month to month. they were measured at once at the mayoralty, clothed, and filed off to mayence, strasburg, or wherever it might be. this lasted a long time; but at length people were tired of war, especially after the russian campaign and the great recruiting of . you may well suppose, fritz, that i did not wait till this time before sending my two boys beyond the reach of the recruiting officers' clutches. they were boys who did not lack sense. at twelve years old their heads were clear enough, and rather than go and fight for the king of prussia, they would see themselves safe at the ends of the earth. at evening, when we sat at supper around the lamp with its seven burners, their mother would sometimes cover her face and say: "my poor children! my poor children! when i think that the time is near when you will go in the midst of musket and bayonet fire--in the midst of thunder and lightning!--oh, how dreadful!" and i saw them turn pale. i smiled at myself and thought: "you are no fools. you will hold on to your life. that is right!" if i had had children capable of becoming soldiers, i should have died of grief. i should have said, "these are not of my race!" but the boys grew stronger and handsomer. when itzig was fifteen he was doing a good business. he bought cattle in the villages on his own account, and sold them at a profit to butcher borich at mittelbronn; and frômel was not behind him, for he made the best bargains of the old merchandise, which we had heaped in three barracks under the market. i should have liked well to keep the boys with me. it was my delight to see them with my little sâfel--the curly head and eyes bright as a squirrel's--yes, it was my joy! often i clasped them in my arms without a word, and even they wondered at it; i frightened them; but dreadful thoughts passed through my mind after . i knew that whenever the emperor had returned to paris, he had demanded four hundred millions of francs and two or three hundred thousand men, and i said to myself: "this time, everybody must go, even children of seventeen and eighteen!" as the tidings grew worse and worse, i said to them one evening: "listen! you both understand trading, and what you do not yet know you can learn. now, if you wait a few months, you will be on the conscription list, and be like all the rest; they will take you to the square and show you how to load a gun, and then you will go away, and i never shall hear of you again!" sorlé sighed, and we all sighed together. then, after a moment, i continued: "but if you set out at once for america, by the way of havre, you will reach it safe and sound; you will do business there as well as here; you will make money, you will marry, you will increase according to the lord's promise, and you will send me back money, according to god's commandment, 'honor thy father and thy mother.' i will bless you as isaac blessed jacob, and you will have a long life. choose!" they at once chose to go to america, and i went with them myself as far as sorreburg. each of them had made twenty louis in his own business so that i needed to give them nothing but my blessing. and what i said to them has come to pass; they are both living, they have numerous children, who are my descendants, and when i want anything they send it to me. itzig and frômel being gone, i had only sâfel left, my benjamin, dearer even, if possible, than the others. and then, too, i had my daughter zeffen, married at saverne to a good respectable man, baruch; she was the oldest, and had already given me a grandson named david, according to the lord's will that the dead should be replaced in his own family, and david was the name of baruch's grandfather. the one expected was to be called after my father, esdras. you see, fritz, how i was situated before the blockade of phalsburg, in . everything had gone well up to that time, but for six weeks everything had gone wrong in town and country. we had the typhus; thousands of wounded soldiers surrounded the houses; the ground had lacked laborers for the last two years, and everything was dear--bread, meat, and drink. the people of alsace and lorraine did not come to market; our stores of merchandise did not sell; and when merchandise does not sell, it might as well be sand or stones; we are poor in the midst of abundance. famine comes from every quarter. ah, well! in spite of it all, the lord had a great blessing in store for me, for just at this time, early in november, came the news that a second son was born to zeffen, and that he was in fine health. i was so glad that i set out at once for saverne. you must know, fritz, that if i was very glad, it was not only on account of the birth of a grandson, but also because my son-in-law would not be obliged to leave home, if the child lived. baruch had always been fortunate; at the moment when the emperor had made the senate vote that unmarried men must go, he had just married zeffen; and when the senate voted that married men without children must go, he had his first child. now, after the bad news, it was voted that married men with only one child should go, all the same, and baruch had two. at that time it was a fortunate thing to have quantities of children, to keep you from being massacred; no greater blessing could be desired! this is why i took my cane at once, to go and find out whether the child were sound and healthy, and whether it would save its father. but for long years to come, if god spares my life, i shall remember that day, and what i met upon my way. imagine the road-side blocked, as it were, with carts filled with the sick and wounded, forming a line all the way from quatre-vents to saverne. the peasants who, in alsace, were required to transport these poor creatures, had unharnessed their horses and escaped in the night, abandoning their carts; the hoar-frost had passed over them; there was not motion or sign of life--all dead, as it were one long cemetery! thousands of ravens covered the sky like a cloud; there was nothing to be seen but wings moving in the air, nothing to be heard but one murmur of innumerable cries. i would not have believed that heaven and earth could produce so many ravens. they flew down to the very carts; but the moment a living man approached, all these creatures rose and flew away to the forest of la bonne-fontaine, or the ruins of the old convent of dann. as for myself, i lengthened my steps, feeling that i must not stop, that the typhus was marching at my heels. happily the winter sets in early at phalsburg. a cold wind blew from the schneeberg, and these strong draughts of mountain air disperse all maladies, even, it is said, the black plague itself. what i have now told you is about the retreat from leipsic, in the beginning of november. when i reached saverne, the city was crowded with troops, artillery, infantry, and cavalry, pell-mell. i remember that, in the principal street, the windows of an inn were open, and a long table with its white cloth was seen, all laid, within. all the guard of honor stopped there. these were young men of rich families, who had money in spite of their tattered uniforms. the moment they saw this table in passing, they leaped from their horses and rushed into the hall. but the innkeeper, hannes, made them pay five francs in advance, and just as the poor things began to eat, a servant ran in, crying out, "the prussians! the prussians!" they sprang up at once and mounted their horses like madmen, without once looking back, and in this way hannes sold his dinner more than twenty times. i have often thought since that such scoundrels deserve hanging; yes, this way of making money is not lawful business. it disgusted me. but if i should describe the rest--the faces of the sick, the way in which they lay, the groans they uttered, and, above all, the tears of those who tried in vain to go on--if i should tell you this, it would be still worse, it would be too much. i saw, on the slope of the old tan-house bridge, a little guardsman of seventeen or eighteen years, stretched out, with his face flat upon the stones. i have never forgotten that boy; he raised himself from time to time, and showed his hand as black as soot: he had a ball in the back, and his hand was half gone. the poor fellow had doubtless fallen from a cart. nobody dared to help him because they heard it said, "he has the typhus! he has the typhus." oh, what misery! it is too dreadful to think of! now, fritz, i must tell you another thing about that day, and that is how i saw marshal victor. it was late when i started from phalsburg, and it was dark when, on going up the principal street of saverne, i saw all the windows of the hotel du soleil illuminated from top to bottom. two sentinels walked to and fro under the arch, officers in full uniform went in and out, magnificent horses were fastened to rings all along the walls; and, within the court, the lamps of a calash shone like two stars. the sentinels kept the street clear, but i must pass, because baruch dwelt farther on. i was going through the crowd, in front of the hotel, and the first sentinel was calling out to me, "back! back!" when an officer of hussars, a short, stout man, with great red whiskers, came out of the arch, and as he met me, exclaimed, "ah! is it you, moses! i am glad to see you!" he shook hands with me. i opened my eyes with amazement, as was natural: a superior officer shaking hands with a plain citizen is not an every-day occurrence. i looked at him in astonishment, and recognized commandant zimmer. thirty years before we had been at father genaudet's school, and we had scoured the city, the moats, and the glacis together, as children. but since then zimmer had been a good many times in phalsburg, without remembering his old comrade, samuel moses. "ho!" said he, smiling, and taking me by the arm, "come, i must present you to the marshal." and, in spite of myself, before i had said a word, i went in under the arch, into a large room where two long tables, loaded with lights and bottles, were laid for the staff-officers. a number of superior officers, generals, colonels, commanders of hussars, of dragoons and of chasseurs, in plumed hats, in helmets, in red shakos, their chins in their huge cravats, their swords dragging, were walking silently back and forth, or talking with each other, while they waited to be called to table. it was difficult to pass through the crowd, but zimmer kept hold of my arm, and led me to the end of the room, to a little lighted door. we entered a high room, with two windows opening upon the gardens. the marshal was there, standing, his head uncovered; his back was toward us, and he was dictating orders which two staff-officers were writing. this was all which i noticed at the moment, in my confusion. just after we entered, the marshal turned; i saw that he had the good face of an old lorraine peasant. he was a tall, powerful man, with a grayish head; he was about fifty years old, and very heavy for his age. "marshal, here's our man!" said zimmer. "he is one of my old school-mates, samuel moses, a first-rate fellow, who has been traversing the country these thirty years, and knows every village in alsace and lorraine." the marshal looked at me a few steps off. i held my hat in my hand in great fear. after looking at me a couple of seconds, he took the paper which one of the secretaries handed him, read and signed it, then turned back to me: "well, my good man," said he, "what do they say about the last campaign? what do the people in your village think about it?" on hearing him call me "my good man," i took courage, and answered "that the typhus had made bad work, but the people were not disheartened, because they knew that the emperor with his army was at hand." and when he said abruptly: "yes! but will they defend themselves?" i answered: "the alsatians and the lorraines are people who will defend themselves till death, because they love their emperor, and they would all be willing to die for him!" i said that by way of prudence; but he could plainly see in my face that i was no fighting man, for he smiled good-humoredly, and said: "that will do, commandant, that is enough!" the secretaries had kept on writing. zimmer made a sign to me and we went out together. when we were outside he called out: "good-by, moses, good-by!" the sentinels let me pass, and still trembling, i continued my journey. i was soon knocking at the little door of baruch's house at the end of the lane where the cardinal's old stables were. it was pitch dark. what a joy it was, fritz, after having seen all these terrible things, to come to the place where those i loved were resting! how softly my heart beat, and how i pitied all that power and glory which made so many people miserable! after a moment i heard my son-in-law enter the passage and open the door. baruch and zeffen had long since ceased expecting me. "is it you, my father?" asked baruch. "yes, my son, it is i. i am late. i have been hindered." "come!" said he. and we entered the little passage, and then into the chamber where zeffen, my daughter, lay pale and happy, upon her bed. she had recognized my voice. as for me, my heart beat with joy; i could not speak; and i embraced my daughter, while i looked around to find the little one. zeffen held it in her arms under the coverlet. "there he is!" she said. then she showed him to me in his swaddling-clothes. i saw at once that he was plump and healthy, with his little hands closed tight, and i exclaimed: "baruch, this is esdras, my father! let him be welcome!" i wanted to see him without his clothes, so i undressed him. it was warm in the little room from the lamp with seven burners. tremblingly i undressed him; he did not cry, and my daughter's white hands assisted me: "wait, my father, wait!" said she. my son-in-law looked on behind me. we all had tears in our eyes. at last i had him all undressed; he was rosy, and his large head tossed about, sleeping the sleep of centuries. then i lifted him above my head; i looked at his round thighs all in creases, at his little drawn-up feet, his broad chest and plump back, and i wanted to dance like david before the ark; i wanted to chant: "praise the lord! praise him ye servants of the lord! praise the name of the lord! blessed be the name of the lord from this time forth and forever more! from the rising of the sun, unto the going down of the same, the lord's name is to be praised! the lord is high above all nations, and his glory above the heavens! who is like unto the lord our god, who raiseth up the poor out of the dust, who maketh the barren woman to keep house, and to be a joyful mother of children? praise ye the lord!" yes, i felt like chanting this, but all that i could say was: "he is a fine, perfect child! he is going to live! he will be the blessing of our race and the joy of our old age!" and i blessed them all. then giving him back to his mother to be covered, i went to embrace the other who was sound asleep in his cradle. we remained there together a long time, to see each other, in this joy. without, horses were passing, soldiers shouting, carriages rolling by. here all was quiet: the mother nursed her infant. ah! fritz, i am an old man now, and these far-off things are always before me, as at the first; my heart always beats in recalling them, and i thank god for his great goodness,--i thank him. he has loaded me with years, he has permitted me to see the third generation, and i am not weary of life; i should like to live on and see the fourth and the fifth--his will be done! i should have liked to tell them of what had just happened to me at the hotel du soleil, but everything was insignificant in comparison with my joy; only after i had left the chamber, while i was taking a mouthful of bread and drinking a glass of wine in the side hall so as to let zeffen sleep, i related the adventure to baruch, who was greatly surprised. "listen, my son," said i, "this man asked me if we want to defend ourselves. that shows that the allies are following our armies, that they are marching by hundreds of thousands, and that they cannot be hindered from entering france. so you see that, in the midst of our joy, there is danger of terrible evils; you see that all the harm which we have been doing to others for these last ten years may return upon us. i fear so. god grant that i may be mistaken!" after this we went to bed. it was eleven o'clock, and the tumult without still continued. ii father moses's speculation early the next morning, after breakfast, i took my cane to return to phalsburg. zeffen and baruch wanted to keep me longer, but i said: "you do not think of your mother, who is expecting me. she does not keep still a minute; she keeps going upstairs and down, and looking out of the window. no, i must go. sorlé must not be uneasy while we are comfortable." zeffen said no more, and filled my pockets with apples and nuts for her brother sâfel. i embraced them again, the little ones and the big; then baruch led me far back of the gardens, to the place where the roads to schlittenbach and lutzelburg divide. the troops had all left, only stragglers and the sick remaining. but we could still see the line of carts in the distance, on the hill, and bands of day-laborers who had been set to work digging graves back of the road. the very thought of passing that way disturbed me. i shook hands with baruch at this fork of the road, promising to come again with grandmother to the circumcision, and then took the valley road, which follows the zorn through the woods. this path was full of dead leaves, and for two hours i walked on thinking at times of the hotel du soleil, of zimmer, of marshal victor, whom i seemed to see again, with his tall figure, his square shoulders, his gray head, and coat covered with embroidery. sometimes i pictured to myself zeffen's chamber, the little babe and its mother; then the war which threatened us--that mass of enemies advancing from every side! several times i stopped in the midst of these valleys sloping into each other as far as the eye can reach, all covered with firs, oaks and beeches, and i said to myself: "who knows? perhaps the prussians, austrians and russians will soon pass along here!" but there was comfort in this thought; "moses, your two boys, itzig and frômel, are in america far from the reach of cannon; they are there with their packs on their shoulders, going from village to village without danger. and your daughter zeffen, too, may sleep in quiet; baruch has two fine children, and will have another every year while the war lasts. he will sell leather to make bags and shoes for those who have to go, but, for his part, he will stay at home." i smiled as i thought that i was too old to be conscripted, that i was a gray-head, and the conscriptors could have none of us. yes; i smiled as i saw that i had acted very wisely in everything, and that the lord had, as it were, cleared my path. it is a great satisfaction, fritz, to see that everything is working to our advantage. in the midst of these thoughts i came quietly to lutzelburg, and i went to brestel's at the swan hotel to take a cup of coffee. there i found bernard, the soap merchant, whom you do not know--a little man, bald to the very nape of the neck, with great wens on his head--and donadieu, the harberg forest-keeper. one had laid his dosser and the other his gun against the wall, and they were emptying a bottle of wine between them. brestel was helping. "ha! it is moses," exclaimed bernard. "where the devil dost thou come from, so early in the morning!" christians in those days were in the habit of _thou_ing the jews--even the old men. i answered that i had come from saverne, by the valley. "ah! thou hast seen the wounded," said the keeper. "what thinkest thou of that, moses!" "i have seen them," i replied sadly, "i saw them last evening. it is dreadful!" "yes, it is; everybody has gone up there to-day, because old gredal of quatre-vents found her nephew under a cart--joseph bertha, the little lame watchmaker who worked last year with father goulden; so the people from dagsberg, houpe, and garburg, expect to find their brothers, or sons, or cousins in the heap." he shrugged his shoulders compassionately. "these things are dreadful," said brestel, "but they must come. there has been no business these two years; i have back here, in my court, three thousand pounds' worth of planks and timber. that would formerly have lasted me for six weeks or two months; but now it is all rotting on the spot; nobody wants it on the sarre, nobody wants it in alsace, nobody orders anything or buys anything. it is just so with the hotel. nobody has a sous; everybody stays at home, thankful if they have potatoes to eat and cold water to drink. meanwhile my wine and beer turn sour in the cellar, and are covered with mildew. and all that does not keep off the duties; you must pay, or the officer will be upon you." "yes," cried bernard, "it is the same thing everywhere. but what is it to the emperor whether planks and soap sell or not, provided the contributions come in and the conscripts arrive?" donadieu perceived that his comrade had taken a glass too much; he rose, put back his gun into his shoulder-belt, and went out, calling to us. "good-by to you all, good-by! we will talk about this another time." a few minutes afterward, i paid for my cup of coffee, and followed his example. i had the same thoughts as brestel and bernard; i saw that my trade in iron and old clothes was at an end; and as i went up the barracks' hill i thought, "try to find something else, moses. everything is at a stand-still. but one cannot use up his money to the last farthing. i must turn to something else--i must find an article which is always salable. but what is always salable? every trade has its day, and then it comes to an end." while thus meditating, i passed the barracks of the bois-de-chênes. i was on the plateau from which i could see the glacis, the line of ramparts, and the bastions, when the firing of a cannon gave notice that the marshal was leaving the place. at the same time i saw at the left, in the direction of mittelbronn, the line of sabres flashing like lightning in the distance among the poplars of the highway. the trees were leafless, and i could see, too, the carriage and postilions passing like the wind through the plumes and caps. the cannon pealed, second after second; the mountains gave back peal after peal, from the very depths of their valleys; and as for myself, i was quite carried away by the thought of having seen this man the day before; it seemed like a dream. then, about ten o'clock, i passed the bridge of the french gate. the last cannon sounded upon the bastion of the powder-house; the crowd of men, women and children descended the ramparts, as if it were a festival; they knew nothing, thought of nothing, while cries of "vive l'empereur!" rose in every street. i passed through the crowd, well pleased at bringing good news to my wife; and i was saying to myself beforehand, "the little one is doing well, sorlé!" when, at the corner of the market, i saw her at our door. i raised my cane at once, and smiled, as much as to say "baruch is safe--we may laugh!" she understood me, and went in at once; but i overtook her on the stairs, and embraced her, saying: "it is a good, hearty little fellow--there! such a baby--so round and rosy! and zeffen is doing well. baruch wished me to embrace you for him. but where is sâfel?" "under the market, selling." "ah, good!" we went into our room. i sat down and began to praise zeffen's baby. sorlé listened with delight, looking at me with her great black eyes, and wiping my forehead, for i had walked fast, and could hardly breathe. and then, all of a sudden, our sâfel came in. i had not time to turn my head before he was on my knees, with his hands in my pockets. the child knew that his sister zeffen never forgot him; and sorlé, too, liked to bite an apple. you see, fritz, when i think of these things, everything comes back to me; i could talk to you about it forever. it was friday, the day before the sabbath; the _schabbés-goïe_* was to come in the afternoon. while we were still alone at dinner, and i related for the fifth and sixth time how zimmer had recognized me, how he had taken me into the presence of the duke of bellune, my wife told me that the marshal had made the tour of our ramparts on horseback, with his staff-officers; that he had examined the advanced works, the bastions, the glacis, and that he had said, as he went down the college street, that the place would hold out for eighteen days, and that it must be fortified immediately. * woman, not israelite, who on saturday performs in a jewish household the labors forbidden by the law of moses. i remembered at once that he had asked me if we wished to defend ourselves, and i exclaimed: "he is sure that the enemy is coming; since he is going to put cannon upon the ramparts, it is because there will be need of them. it is not natural to make preparations which are not to be used. and, if the allies come, the gates will be shut. what will become of us without our business? the country people can neither go in nor out, and what will become of us?" then sorlé showed her good sense, for she said: "i have already thought about this, moses; it is only the peasants who buy iron, old shoes, and our other things. we must undertake a city business for all classes--a business which will oblige citizens, soldiers and workmen to buy of us. that is what we must do." i looked at her in surprise. sâfel, with his elbow on the table, was also listening. "it is all very well, sorlé," i replied, "but what business is there which will oblige citizens, soldiers, everybody to buy of us--what business is there?" "listen," said she; "if the gates are shut and the country people cannot enter, there will be no eggs, butter, fish, or anything in the market. people will have to live on salt meats and dried vegetables, flour, and all kinds of preserved articles. those who have bought up these can sell them at their own price; they will grow rich." as i listened i was struck with astonishment. "ah, sorlé! sorlé!" i exclaimed, "for thirty years you have been my comfort. yes, you have crowned me with all sorts of blessings, and i have said a hundred times, 'a good wife is a diamond of pure water, and without flaw. a good wife is a rich treasure for her husband.' i have repeated it a hundred times. but now i know still better what you are worth, and esteem you still more highly." the more i thought of it, the more i perceived the wisdom of this advice. at length i said: "sorlé, meat and flour, and everything which can be kept, are already in the storehouses, and the soldiers will not need such things for a long time, because their officers will have provided them. but what will be wanted is brandy, which men must have to massacre and exterminate each other in war, and brandy we will buy! we will have plenty of it in our cellar, we will sell it, and nobody else will have it. that is my idea!" "it is a good idea, moses!" said she; "your reasons are good; i approve of them." "then i will write," said i, "and we will invest everything in spirits of wine. we will add water ourselves, in proportion as people wish to pay for it. in this way the freight will be less than if it were brandy, for we shall not have to pay for the transportation of the water, which we have here." "that is well, moses," she said. and so we agreed. then i said to sâfel: "you must not speak of this to any one." she answered for him: "there's no need of telling him that, moses. sâfel knows very well that this is between ourselves, and that our well-being depends upon it." the child for a long time resented my words: "you must not speak of this to any one." he was already full of good sense, and said to himself: "so my father thinks i am an idiot." this thought humiliated him. some years afterward he told me of it, and i perceived that i had been wrong. everybody has his notions. children should not be humiliated in theirs, but rather upheld by their parents. iii a circumcision feast so i wrote to pézenas. this is a southern city, rich in wools, wines, and brandies. the price of brandies at pézenas controls that of all europe. a trading man ought to know that, and i knew it, because i had always liked to read the list of prices in the newspapers. i sent to m. quataya, at pézenas, for a dozen pipes of spirits of wine. i calculated that, after paying the freight, a pipe would cost me a thousand francs, delivered in my cellar. as i had sold no iron for a year, i disposed of my merchandise without asking anything for it; the payment of the twelve thousand francs did not trouble me. only, fritz, those twelve thousand francs were half my fortune, and you may suppose that it required some courage to risk in one venture the gains of fifteen years. as soon as my letter was gone, i wished i could bring it back, but it was too late. i kept a good face before my wife, and said, "it will all do well! we shall gain double, triple, etc." she, too, kept a good face, but we both had misgivings; and during the six weeks necessary for the receipt of the acknowledgment and acceptance of my order, and the arrival of the spirits of wine, every night i lay awake, thinking, "moses, you have lost everything! you are ruined from top to toe!" the cold sweat would cover my body. still, if any one had come to me and said, "be easy, moses, i will relieve you of this business," i should have refused, because my hope of gain was as great as my fear of loss. and by this you may know who are the true merchants, the true generals, and all who accomplish anything. others are but machines for selling tobacco, or filling glasses, or firing guns. it all comes to the same thing. one man's glory is as great as another's. this is why, when we speak of austerlitz, jena or wagram, it is not a question of jean claude or jean nicholas, but of napoleon alone; he alone risked everything, the others risked only being killed. i do not say this to compare myself with napoleon, but the buying of these twelve pipes of spirits of wine was my battle of austerlitz. and when i think that, on reaching paris, napoleon had demanded four hundred and forty millions of money, and _six hundred thousand men_! and that then everybody, understanding that we were threatened with an invasion, undertook to sell and to make money at any cost, while i bought, unhampered by the example of others--when i think of this, i am proud of it still and congratulate myself. it was in the midst of these disquietudes that the day for the circumcision of little esdras arrived. my daughter zeffen had recovered, and baruch had written to us not to trouble ourselves, for they would come to phalsburg. my wife then hastened to prepare the meats and cakes for the festival: the _bie-kougel_, the _haman_, and the _schlachmoness_, which are great delicacies. on my part, i had tested my best wine on the old rabbi heymann, and i had invited my friends, leiser of mittelbronn and his wife boûné, senterlé hirsch, and professor burguet. burguet was not a jew, but he was worthy of being one on account of his genius and extraordinary talents. when a speech was wanted in the emperor's progress, burguet made it; when songs were needed for a national festival, burguet composed them between two sips of beer; when a young candidate for law or medicine was perplexed in writing his thesis, he went to burguet, who wrote it for him, whether in french or in latin; when fathers and mothers were to be moved to tears at the distribution of school prizes, burguet was the man to do it; he would take a blank sheet of paper, and read them a discourse on the spot, such as nobody else could have written in ten years; when a petition was to be made to the emperor or prefect, burguet was the first man thought of; and when burguet took the trouble to defend a deserter before the court-martial at the mayoralty, the deserter, instead of being shot on the bastion of the barracks, was pardoned. after all this, burguet would return and take his part in piquet with the little jew, solomon, at which he always lost; and people troubled themselves no more about him. i have often thought that burguet must have greatly despised those to whom he took off his hat. yes, to see the fellows putting on important airs because they were rural guard or secretary of the mayoralty, must have made a man like him laugh in his sleeve. but he never told me so; he knew the ways of the world too well. he was an old constitutional priest, a tall man, with a noble figure and very fine voice; the very tones of it would move you in spite of yourself. unfortunately, he did not take care of his own interests; he was at the mercy of the first comer. how many times i have said to him: "burguet, in heaven's name, don't get mixed up with thieves! burguet, don't let yourself be robbed by simpletons! trust me about your college expenses. when anybody comes to impose upon you i will be on the spot; i will pay the bills and hand you the account." but he did not think of the future, and lived very carelessly. i had thus invited all my old friends for the morning of the twenty-fourth of november, and they all came to the festival. the father and mother, with the little infant, and its godfather and godmother, came early, in a large carriage. by eleven the ceremony had taken place in our synagogue, and we all, in great joy and satisfaction, for the child had not uttered a cry, returned together to my house, which had been made ready beforehand--the large table on the first floor, the meats in their pewter dishes, the fruits in their baskets--and we had begun in great glee to celebrate the happy day. the old rabbi heymann, leiser, and burguet sat at my right, my little sâfel, hirsch, and baruch at my left, and the women sorlé, zeffen, jételé, and boûné, facing us on the other side, according to the command of the lord, that men and women should be separate at festivities. burguet, with his white cravat, his handsome maroon coat and his ruffled shirt, did me honor. he made a speech, raising his voice and making fine gestures like a great orator--telling of the ancient customs of our nation, of our religious ceremonies, of _paeçach_ (the feast of passover), of _rosch-haschannah_ (the new year), of _kippour_ (the day of expiation), like a true _ied_ (jew), thinking our religion very beautiful and glorifying the genius of moses. he knew the _lochene koïdech_ (chaldaic) as well as a _bal-kebolé_ (cabalistic doctor). the saverne people turned to their neighbors and asked in a whisper: "pray, who is this man who speaks with authority, and says such fine things? is he a rabbi? is he a _schamess_ (jewish beadle)? or is he the _parness_ (civil head) of your community?" and when they learned he was not one of us, they were astonished. the old rabbi heymann alone was able to answer him, and they agreed on all points, like learned men talking on familiar subjects and conscious of their own learning. behind us, on its grandmother's bed, inside of the curtains, slept our little esdras, with his sweet face and little clinched hands--slept so soundly, that neither our shouts of laughter, nor the talking, nor the sound of the glasses could wake him. sometimes one, sometimes another, went to look at him, and everybody said: "what a beautiful child! he looks like his grandfather moses!" that pleased me, of course; and i would go and look at him, bending over him for a long while, and finding a still stronger resemblance to my father. at three o'clock, the meats having been removed and the delicacies spread upon the table, as we came to the dessert, i went down to find a bottle of better wine, an old bottle of rousillon which i dug out from under the others, all covered with dust and cobwebs. i took it up carefully and placed it among the flowers on the table, saying: "you thought the other wine very good; what will you say to this?" then burguet smiled, for old wine was his special delight; he stretched up his hand and exclaimed: "oh! noble wine, the consoler, the restorer and benefactor of poor men in this vale of misery! oh, venerable bottle, thou bearest all the signs of old nobility!" he said this with his mouth full, and everybody laughed. i asked sorlé to bring the corkscrew. as she was rising, suddenly trumpets sounded without, and we all listened and asked, "what is that?" at the same time the sound of many horses' steps came up the street, and the earth and the houses trembled under an enormous weight. everybody sprang up, throwing down their napkins and rushing to the windows. and from the french gate to the little square we saw trains of artillerymen advancing, with their great shakos covered with oil-cloth, and their saddles in sheepskins and driving caissons full of round shot, shells and intrenching tools. imagine, fritz, my thoughts at that moment! "this is war, my friends!" said burguet. "this is war! it is coming! our turn has come, at the end of twenty years!" i stood leaning down with my hand on the stone, and thought: "now the enemy cannot delay coming. these are sent to fortify the place. and what if the allies surround us before i have received my spirits of wine? what if the austrians or russians should stop the wagons and seize them? i should have to pay for it all the same, and i should not have a farthing left!" i turned pale at the thought. sorlé looked at me, undoubtedly having the same fears, but she said nothing. we stood there till they all passed by. the street was full. some old soldiers, desmarets the egyptian, paradis the gunner, rolfo, faisard the sapper, of the beresina, as he was called, and some others, cried "vive l'empereur!" children ran behind the wagons, repeating the cry, "vive l'empereur!" but the greater number, with closed lips and serious faces, looked on in silence. when the last carriage had turned the fouquet corner, all the crowd returned with bowed heads; and we in the room looked at each other, with no wish to continue the feast. "you are not well, moses," said burguet. "what is the matter?" "i am thinking of all the evils which are coming to the city." "bah! don't be afraid," he replied. "we shall be strongly defended! and then, god help us! what can't be cured must be endured! come! cheer up; this old wine will keep up our spirits." we resumed our places. i opened the bottle, and it was as burguet said. the old rousillon did us good, and we began to laugh. burguet called out: "to the health of the little esdras! may the lord cover him with his right hand!" and the glasses clinked. some one exclaimed: "may he long rejoice the hearts of his grandfather moses and his grandmother sorlé! to their health!" we ended by looking at everything in rose-color, and glorifying the emperor, who was hastening to defend us, and was soon going to crush all the beggars beyond the rhine. but it is equally true that, when we separated about five o'clock, everybody had become serious, and burguet himself, when he shook hands with me at the foot of the stairs, looked anxious. "we shall have to send home our pupils," said he, "and we must sit with our arms folded." the saverne people, with zeffen, baruch, and the children, got into their carriage, and started silently for home. iv father moses compelled to bear arms all this, fritz, was but the beginning of troubles. you should have seen the city the next morning, at about eleven o'clock, when the engineering officers had finished inspecting the ramparts, and the tidings suddenly spread that there were needed seventy-two platforms inside the bastions, three bomb-proof block-houses, for thirty men each, at the right and left of the german gate, ten palankas with battlements forming stronghold intrenchments for forty men, and four blindages upon the great square of the mayoralty to shelter each a hundred and ten men; and when it was known that the citizens would be obliged to work at all these, to provide themselves with shovels, pickaxes, and wheelbarrows, and the peasants to bring trees with their own horses! as for sorlé, sâfel, and myself, we did not even know what blindages and palankas were; we asked our neighbor bailly, an old armorer, what they were for, and he answered with a smile: "you will find out, neighbor, when you hear the balls roar and the shells hiss. it would take too long to explain. you will see, by and by; never too late to learn." imagine how the people looked! i remember that everybody ran to the square, where our mayor, baron parmentier, made a speech. we ran there with all the rest. sorlé held me by the arm, and sâfel by the skirt of my coat. there, in front of the mayoralty, the whole city, men, women, and children, formed in a semicircle, and listened in the deepest silence, now and then crying all together, "vive l'empereur!" parmentier, a tall, thin man, in a sky-blue dress-coat, a white cravat, and the tri-colored sash around his waist, stood on the top of the steps of the guard-house, with the members of the municipal council behind him, under the arch, and shouted out: "phalsburgians! the time has come in which to show your devotion to the empire. a year ago all europe was with us, now all europe is against us. we should have everything to fear without the energy and power of the people. he who will not do his duty now will be a traitor to his country! inhabitants of phalsburg, show what you are! remember that your children have perished through the treachery of the allies. avenge them! let every one be obedient to the military authority, for the sake of the safety of france," etc. only to hear him made one's flesh creep, and i said to myself: "now there will not be time for the spirits of wine to get here--that is plain! the allies are on their way!" elias the butcher, and kalmes levy the ribbon-merchant, were standing near us. instead of crying "vive l'empereur!" with the rest, they said to each other: "good! we are not barons, you and i! barons, counts, and dukes have but to defend themselves. are we to think only of their interests?" but all the old soldiers, and especially those of the republic, old goulden, the clockmaker, desmarels, the egyptian--creatures with not a hair left on their heads, nor as much as four teeth to hold their pipes--these creatures fell in with the mayor, and cried out: "vive la france! we must defend ourselves to the death!" i saw several looking askance at kalmes levy, and i whispered to him: "keep still, kalmes! for heaven's sake, keep still! they will tear you in pieces!" it was true. the old men gave him terrible looks; they grew pale, and their cheeks shook. then kalmes stopped talking, and even left the crowd to return home. but elias stayed till the end of the speech, and, as the whole mass of people were going down the main street, shouting "vive l'empereur!" he could not help saying to the old clockmaker: "what! you, mr. goulden, a reasonable man, who have never wanted anything of the emperor, you are now going to take his part, and cry out that we must defend ourselves till death! is it our business to be soldiers? have not we furnished enough soldiers to the empire these last ten years? have not enough men been killed? must we give, besides, our own blood to support barons, counts, and dukes?" but old goulden did not let him finish, and replied, as if indignant: "listen, elias! try to keep still! the thing now to be done is not to know what is right or wrong--it is to save france. i warn you, that if you try to discourage others, it will be bad for you. believe me--go!" already a number of superannuated soldiers were gathered round us, and elias had only time to retreat by the opposite lane. from this time public notices, requisitions, forced labors, domiciliary visits for tools and wheelbarrows, came one after another, incessantly. a man was nothing in his own house; the officers of the place assumed authority over everything: only to be sure, they gave receipts. all the tools from my storehouse of iron were in use on the ramparts. fortunately i had sold a good many beforehand, for these tickets in place of my wares would have ruined me. from time to time the mayor made a speech, and the governor, a fat man, covered with pimples, expressed his satisfaction to the citizens; that made up for their money! when my time came to take the pickaxe and draw the wheelbarrow, i arranged with carabin, the wood-sawyer, to take my place for thirty sous. ah, what misery! such a time will never come again. while the governor commanded us within the city, the soldiers were always outside to superintend the peasants. the road to lutzelburg was but one line of carts, laden with old oaks for building blockhouses. these are large sentry-boxes, or turrets, built up of solid trunks of trees, laid crosswise one upon another, and then covered with earth. these are more solid than an arch. shells and bombs might rain upon them without disturbing anything within, as i found afterward. these trees were also used to make lines of enormous palisades, pointed and pierced with holes for firing; these are what they call palankas. i seem still to hear the shouts of the peasants, the neighing of the horses, the strokes of the whips, and all the other noises, which never stopped, day or night. my only consolation was in thinking, "if the spirits of wine comes now, it will be well defended; the austrians, prussians, and russians will not drink it here!" every morning sorlé expected to receive the invoice. one sabbath day we had the curiosity to go and see the works of the bastions. everybody was talking about it, and sâfel kept coming to me, saying: "the work is going on; they are filling the shells in front of the arsenal; they are taking out the cannon; they are mounting them on the ramparts!" we could not keep the child away. he had nothing to sell now under the market, and it would be too tedious for him to stay at home. he scoured the city, and brought us back the news. on this day, then, having heard that forty-two pieces were ranged in battery, and that they were continuing the work upon the bastion of the infantry-barracks, i told sorlé to bring her shawl, and we would go and see. we first went down to the french gate. hundreds of wheelbarrows were going up the ramparts of the bastion, from which could be seen the road to metz on the right and the road to paris on the left. there, above, crowds of laborers, soldiers and citizens, were heaping up a mass of earth in the form of a triangle, at least twenty-five feet in height, and two hundred in length and breadth. an engineering officer had discovered with his spy-glass that this bastion was commanded by the hill opposite, and so everybody was set to work to place two pieces on a level with the hill. it was the same everywhere else. the interiors of these bastions, with their platforms, were shut in all around, for seven feet from the ground, like rooms. nothing could fall into them except from the sky. in the turf, however, were dug narrow openings, larger without, like funnels; the mouths of the cannon, which were raised upon immense carriages, were drawn out through these apertures; they could be pushed forward and backward, and turned in all directions, by means of great levers passed in rings over the hind wheels of the carriages. i had not yet heard the sound of these forty-eight pounders. but the mere sight of them on their platforms gave me a terrible idea of their power. even sorlé said: "it is fine, moses; it is well done!" she was right, for within the bastions all was in complete order; not a weed remained, and upon the sides were piled great bags filled with earth to protect the artillerymen. but what lost labor! and to think that every firing of these large guns costs at least a louis--money spent to kill our fellow-men! in fine the people worked at these things with more enthusiasm than if they were gathering in their own harvests. i have often thought that if the french bestowed as much pains, good sense, and courage upon matters of peace, they would be the richest and happiest people in the world. yes, they would long ago have surpassed the english and americans. but when they have toiled and economized, when they have opened roads everywhere, built magnificent bridges, dug out harbors and canals, and riches come to them from all quarters, suddenly the fury of war possesses them, and in three or four years they ruin themselves with grand armies, with cannon, with powder, with bullets, with men, and become poorer than before. a few soldiers are their masters, and look down upon them. this is all it profits them! in the midst of all this, news from mayence, from strasburg, from paris, came by the dozens; we could not go into the street without seeing a courier pass. they all stopped before the bockhold house, near the german gate, where the governor lived. a circle formed around the house, the courier mounted, then the news spread through the city that the allies were concentrated at frankfort, that our troops guarded the islands of the rhine; that the conscripts from to were recalled; that those of would form the reserve corps at metz, at bordeaux, at turin; that the deputies were going to assemble; then, that the gates had been shut upon them, etc., etc. there came also smugglers of all sorts from graufthal, pirmasens, and kaiserslautern, with franz sepel, the one-armed man, at their head, and others from the villages around, who secretly scattered the proclamations of alexander, francis joseph and frederic william, saying "that they did not make war upon france, but upon the emperor alone to prevent his further desolation of europe." they spoke of the abolition of duties, and of taxes of all sorts. the people at night did not know what to think. but one fine morning it was all explained. it was the eighth or ninth of december. i had just risen, and was putting on my clothes, when i heard the rolling of a drum at the corner of the main street. it was cold, but nevertheless i opened the window and leaned out to hear the announcements. parmentier opened his paper, young engelheider kept up his drum-beating, and the people assembled. then parmentier read that the governor of the place ordered all citizens to present themselves at the mayoralty between eight in the morning and six in the evening, without fail, to receive their muskets and cartridge-boxes, and that those who did not come, would be court-martialed. there was the end at last! every one who was able to march was on his way, and the old men were to defend the fortifications; sober-minded men--citizens--men accustomed to living quietly at home, and attending to their own affairs! now they must mount the ramparts and every day run the risk of losing their lives! sorlé looked at me without a word, and indignation made me also speechless. not till after a quarter of an hour, when i was dressed, did i say: "make the soup ready. i am going to the mayoralty to get my musket and cartridge-box." then she exclaimed: "moses, who would have believed that you would have to go and fight at your age? oh! what misery!" and i answered: "it is the lord's will." then i started with a sad heart. little sâfel followed me. as i arrived at the corner of the market, burguet was coming down the mayoralty steps, which swarmed with men; he had his musket on his shoulder, and said with a smile: "ah, well, moses! we are going to turn maccabees in our old age?" his cheerfulness encouraged me, and i replied: "burguet, how is it they can take rational men, heads of families, and make them destroy themselves? i cannot comprehend it; no, there is no sense in it!" "ah," said he, "what would you have? if they can't get thrushes, they must take blackbirds." i could not smile at his pleasantries, and he said: "come, moses, don't be so disconsolate; this is only a formality. we have troops enough for active service; we shall have only to mount guard. if sorties are to be made, or attacks repulsed, they will not take you; you are not of an age to run, or to give a bayonet stroke! you are gray and bald. don't be troubled!" "yes," i said, "that is very true, burguet, i am broken down--more so, perhaps, than you think." "that is well," said he, "but go and take your musket and cartridge-box." "and are we not going to stay in the barracks?" "no, no!" he cried, laughing aloud, "we are going to live quietly at home." he shook hands with me, and i went under the arch of the mayoralty. the stairway was crowded with people, and we heard names called out. and there, fritz, you should have seen the looks of the robinots, the gourdiers, the mariners, that mass of tilers, knife-grinders, house-painters, people who, every day, in ordinary times, would take off their caps to you to get a little work--you should have seen them straighten themselves up, look at you pityingly over the shoulder, blow in their cheeks, and call out: "ah, moses, is it thou? thou wilt make a comical soldier. he! he! he! they will cut thy mustaches according to regulation!" and such-like nonsense. yes, everything was changed; these former bullies had been named in advance sergeants, sergeant-majors, corporals, and the rest of us were nothing at all. war upsets everything; the first become last, and the last first. it is not good sense but discipline which carries the day. the man who scrubbed your floor yesterday, because he was too stupid to gain a living any other way, becomes your sergeant, and if he tells you that white is black, you must let it be so. at last, after waiting an hour, some one called out, "moses!" and i went up. the great hall above was full of people. they all exclaimed: "moses! wilt thou come, moses? ah, see him! he is the old guard! look now, how he is built! thou shalt be ensign, moses! thou shalt lead us on to victory!" and the fools laughed, nudging each others' elbows. i passed on, without answering or even looking at them. in the room at the farther end, where the names were drawn at conscriptions, governor moulin, commandant petitgenet, the mayor, frichard, secretary of the mayoralty, rollin, captain of apparel, and six or seven other superannuated men, crippled with rheumatism, brought from all parts of the world, were met in council, some sitting, the rest standing. these old ones began to laugh as they saw me come in. i heard them say to one another: "he is strong yet! yes, he is all right." so they talked, one after another. i thought to myself: "say what you like, you will not make me think that you are twenty years old, or that you are handsome." but i kept silence. suddenly the governor, who was talking with the mayor in a corner, turned around, with his great chapeau awry, and looking at me, said: "what do you intend to do with such a patriarch? you see very well that he can hardly stand." i was pleased, in spite of it all, and began to cough. "good, good!" said he, "you may go home; take care of your cold!" i had taken four steps toward the door, when frichard, the secretary of the mayoralty, called out: "it is moses! the jew moses, colonel, who has sent his two boys off to america! the oldest should be in the service." this wretch of a frichard had a grudge against me, because we had the same business of selling old clothes under the market, and the country people almost always preferred buying of me; he had a mortal grudge against me, and that is why he began to inform against me. the governor exclaimed at once: "stop a minute! ah ha, old fox! you send your boys to america to escape conscription! very well! give him his musket, cartridge-box, and sabre." indignation against frichard choked me. i would have spoken, but the wretch laughed and kept on writing at the desk; so i followed the gendarme werner to a side room, which was filled with muskets, sabres, and cartridge-boxes. werner himself hung a cartridge-box crosswise on my back, and gave me a musket, saying: "go, moses, and try always to answer to the call." i went down through the crowd so indignant that i heard no longer the shouts of laughter from the rabble. on reaching home i told sorlé what had happened. she was very pale as she listened. after a moment, she said: "this frichard is the enemy of our race; he is an enemy of israel. i know it; he detests us! but just now, moses, do not say a word; do not let him see that you are angry; it would please him too much. by and by you can have your revenge! you will have a chance. and if not yourself, your children, your grandchildren; they shall all know what this wretch has done to their grandfather--they shall know it!" she clinched her hand, and little sâfel listened. this was all the comfort she could give me. i thought as she did, but i was so angry that i would have given half my fortune to ruin the wretch. all that day, and in the night, too, i exclaimed more than twenty times: "ah, the scoundrel!--i was going--they had said to me, 'you may go!'--he is the cause of all my misery!" you cannot imagine, fritz, how i have always hated that man. never have my wife and i forgotten the harm he did us--never shall my children forget it. v father moses receives welcome news the next day we must answer to the call before the mayoralty. all the children in town surrounded us and whistled. fortunately, the blindages of the place d'armes were not finished, so that we went to learn our exercises in the large court of the college, near the _chemin de ronde_ at the corner of the powder-house. as the pupils had been dismissed for some time, the place was at liberty. imagine to yourself this large court filled with citizens in bonnets, coats, cloaks, vests, and breeches, obliged to obey the orders of their former tinkers, chimney-sweeps, stable-boys, now turned into corporals, sergeants, and sergeant-majors. imagine these peaceable men, in fours, in sixes, in tens, stretching out their legs in concert, and marching to the step, "one--_two_! one--_two_! halt! steady!" while others, marching backward, frowning, called out insolently: "moses, dress thy shoulders!" "moses, bring thy nose into line!" "attention, moses! carry arms! ah, old shoe, thou'lt never be good for anything! can any one be so stupid at his age? look--just look! thunder! canst thou not do that? one--_two_! what an old blockhead! come, begin again! carry arms!" this is the way my own cobbler, monborne, ordered me about. i believe he would have beaten me if it had not been for captain vigneron. all the rest treated their old patrons in the same way. you would have said that it had always been so--that they had always been sergeants and we had always been soldiers. i heaped up gall enough against this rabble to last fifty years. they in fine were the masters! and the only time that i remember ever to have struck my own son, sâfel, this monborne was the cause of it. all the children climbed upon the wall of the _chemin de ronde_ to look at us and laugh at us. on looking up, i saw sâfel among them, and made a sign of displeasure with my finger. he went down at once; but at the close of the exercise, when we were ordered to break ranks before the town-house, i was seized with anger as i saw him coming toward me, and i gave him two good boxes on the ear, and said: "go--hiss and mock at your father, like shem, instead of bringing a garment to cover his nakedness--go!" he wept bitterly, and in this state i went home. sorlé seeing me come in looking very pale, and the little one following me at a distance, sobbing, came down at once to the door, and asked what was the matter. i told her how angry i was, and went upstairs. sorlé reproved sâfel still more severely, and he came and begged my pardon. i granted it with all my heart, as you may suppose. but when i thought that the exercises were to be repeated every day, i would gladly have abandoned everything if i could possibly have taken with me my house and wares. yes, the worst thing i know of is to be ordered about by bullies who cannot restrain themselves when chance sets them up for a moment, and who are not capable of receiving the idea that in this life everybody has his turn. i should say too much if i continued on this head. i would rather go on. the lord granted me a great consolation. i had scarcely laid aside my cartridge-box and musket, so as to sit at the table, when sorlé smilingly handed me a letter. "read that, moses," said she, "and you will feel better." i opened and read it. it was the notice from pézenas that my dozen pipes of spirits were on their way. i drew a long breath. "ah! that is good, now!" i exclaimed; "the spirits are coming by the ordinary conveyance; they will be here in three weeks. we hear nothing from the direction of strasburg and sarrebruck; the allies are collecting still, but they do not move; my spirits of wine are safe! they will sell well! it is a grand thing!" i smiled, and was quite myself again, when sorlé pushed the arm-chair toward me, saying: "and what do you think of _that_, moses?" she gave me, as she spoke, a second letter, covered with large stamps, and at the first glance i recognized the handwriting of my two sons, frômel and itzig. it was a letter from america! my heart swelled with joy, and i silently thanked the lord, deeply moved by this great blessing. i said: "the lord is good. his understanding is infinite. he delighteth not in the strength of a horse; he taketh not pleasure in the legs of a man. he taketh pleasure in those that hope in his mercy." thus i spoke to myself while i read the letter, in which my sons praised america, the true land of commerce, the land of enterprising men, where everything is free, where there are no taxes or impositions, because people are not brought up for war, but for peace; the land, fritz, where every man becomes, through his own labor, his intelligence, his economy, and his good intentions, what he deserves to be, and every one takes his proper place, because no important matter is decided without the consent of all;--a just and sensible thing, for where all contribute, all should give their opinions. this was one of their first letters. frômel and itzig wrote me that they had made so much money in a year, that they need no longer carry their own packs, but had three fine mules, and that they had just opened at catskill, near albany, in the state of new york, an establishment for the exchange of european fabrics with cow-hides, which were very abundant in that region. their business was prospering, and they were respected in the town and its vicinity. while frômel was travelling on the road with their three mules, itzig stayed at home, and when itzig went in his turn his brother had charge of the shop. they already knew of our misfortunes, and thanked the lord for having given them such parents, to save them from destruction. they would have liked to have us with them, and after what had just happened, in being maltreated by a monborne, you can believe that i should have been very glad to be there. but it was enough to receive such good news, and in spite of all our misfortunes, i said to myself, as i thought of frichard: "but it is only to me that you can be an ass! you may harm me here, but you can't hurt my boys. you are nothing but a miserable secretary of mayoralty, while i am going to sell my spirits of wine. i shall gain double and treble. i will put my little sâfel at your side, under the market, and he will beckon to everybody that is going into your shop; and he will sell to them at cost price rather than lose their custom, and he will make you die of anger." the tears came into my eyes as i thought of it, and i ended by embracing sorlé, who smiled, full of satisfaction. we pardoned sâfel over again, and he promised to go no more with the cursed race. then, after dinner, i went down to my cellar, one of the finest in the city, twelve feet high and thirty-five feet long, all built of hewn stone, under the main street. it was as dry as an oven, and even improved wine in the long run. as my spirits of wine might arrive before the end of the month, i arranged four large beams to hold the pipes, and saw that the well, cut in the rock, had enough water for mixing it. on going up about four o'clock, i perceived the old architect, krômer, who was walking across the market, his measuring-stick under his arm. "ah!" said i, "come down a minute into my cellar; do you think it will be safe against the bombs?" we went down together. he examined it, measured the stones and the thickness of the arch with his stick, and said: "you have six feet of earth over the key-stone. when the bombs enter here, moses, it will be all over with all of us. you may sleep with both ears shut." we took a good drink of wine from the spout, and went up in good spirits. just as we set foot on the pavement, a door in the main street opened with a crash, and there was a sound of glass broken. krômer raised his nose, and said: "look yonder, moses, at camus's steps! something is going on." we stopped and saw at the top of the railed staircase a sergeant of veterans, in a gray coat, with his musket dangling, dragging father camus by the collar. the poor old man clung to the door with both hands to keep himself from falling; he succeeded at last in getting loose, by tearing the collar from his coat, and the door shut with a noise like thunder. "if war begins now between citizens and soldiers," said krômer, "the germans and russians will have fine sport." the sergeant, seeing the door shut and bolted within, tried to force it open with blows from the butt-end of his musket, which caused a great uproar; the neighbors came out, and the dogs barked. we were watching it all, when we saw burguet come along the passage in front, and begin to talk vehemently with the sergeant. at first the man did not seem to hear him, but after a moment he raised his musket to his shoulder with a rough movement, and went down to the street, with his shoulders up and his face dark and furious. he passed by us like a wild boar. he was a veteran with three chevrons, sunburnt, with a gray mustache, large straight wrinkles the whole length of his cheeks, and a square chin. he muttered as he passed us, and went into the little inn of the three pigeons. burguet followed at a distance, with his broad hat down to his eyebrows, wrapped in his beaver-cloth great-coat, his head thrown back, and his hands in his pockets. he smiled. "well," said i, "what has been going on at camus's?" "oh!" said he, "it is sergeant trubert, of the fifth company of veterans, who had just been playing his tricks. the old fellow wants everything to go by rule and measure. in the last fortnight he has had five different lodgings, and cannot get along with anybody. everybody complains of him, but he always makes excuses which the governor and commandant think excellent." "and at camus's house?" "camus has not too much room for his own family. he wished to send the sergeant to the inn; but the sergeant had already chosen camus's bed to sleep in, had spread his cloak upon it, and said, 'my billet is for this place. i am very comfortable here, and do not wish to change.' old camus was vexed, and finally, as you have just seen, the sergeant tried to pull him out, and beat him." burguet smiled, but krômer said: "yes, all that is laughable. and yet when we think of what such people must have done on the other side of the rhine!" "ah!" exclaimed burguet, "it was not very pleasant for the germans, i am sure. but it is time to go and read the newspaper. god grant that the time for paying our old debts may not have come! good-evening, gentlemen." he continued his walk on the side of the square. krômer went toward his own house, while i shut the two doors of my cellar; after which i went home. this was the tenth of december. it was already very cold. every night, after five or six o'clock, the roofs and pavements were covered with frost. there was no more noise without, because people kept at home, around their stoves. i found sorlé in the kitchen, preparing our supper. the red flame flickered upon the hearth around the saucepan. these things are now before my eyes, fritz--the mother, washing the plates at the stone sink, near the gray window; little sâfel blowing in his big iron pipe, his cheeks round as an apple, his long curly hair all disordered, and myself sitting on the stool, holding a coal to light my pipe. yes, it all seems here present! we said nothing. we were happy in thinking of the spirits of wine that were coming, of the boys who were doing so well, of the good supper that was cooking. and who would ever have thought, then, that twenty-five days afterward the city would be surrounded by enemies, and shells hissing in the air? vi a disagreeable guest now, fritz, i am going to tell you something which has often made me think that the lord takes an interest in our affairs, and that he orders everything for the best. at first it seems dreadful, and we exclaim, "lord have mercy on us!" and afterward we are surprised to find that it has all been for our good. you know that frichard, the secretary of the mayoralty, disliked me. he was a little, yellow, dried-up old man, with a red wig, flat ears, and hollow cheeks. this rascal was bent on doing me an injury, and he soon found an opportunity. as the time of the blockade drew nearer, people were more and more anxious to sell, and the day after i received the good news from america--it was friday, a market-day--so many of the alsatian and lorraine people came with their great dossers and panniers of fruit, eggs, butter, cheese, poultry, etc., that the market-place was crowded with them. everybody wanted money, to hide it in his cellar, or under a tree in the neighboring wood. you know that large sums were lost at that time; treasures which are now discovered from year to year, at the foot of oaks and beeches, hidden because it was feared that the germans and russians would pillage and destroy everything, as we had done to them. the men died, or perhaps could not find the place where they had hidden their money, and so it remained buried in the ground. this day, the eleventh of december, it was very cold; the frost penetrated to the very marrow of your bones, but it had not yet begun to snow. very early in the morning, i went down, shivering, with my woollen waistcoat buttoned up to my throat, and my seal-skin cap drawn down over my ears. both the little and the great squares were already swarming with people, shouting and disputing about prices. i had only time to open my shop, and to hang up my large scales in the arch, before a crowd of country people stood about the door, some asking for nails, others iron for forging; and some bringing their own old iron with the hope of selling it. they knew that if the enemy came there would be no way of entering the city, and that was what brought the crowd, some to sell and others to buy. i opened shop and began to weigh. we heard the patrols passing without; the guard was everywhere doubled, the drawbridges in good condition, and the outside barriers fortified anew. we were not yet declared to be in a state of siege, but we were like the bird on the branch; the last news from mayence, sarrebruck, and strasburg announced the arrival of the allies on the other bank of the rhine. as for me, i thought of nothing but my spirits of wine, and all the time i was selling, weighing, and handling money, it was never out of my mind. it had, as it were, taken root in my brain. this had lasted about an hour, when suddenly burguet appeared at my door, under the little arch, behind the crowd of country people, and said to me: "moses, come here a minute, i have something to say to you." i went out. "let us go into your passage," said he. i was much surprised, for he looked very grave. the peasants behind called out: "we have no time to lose. make haste, moses!" but i paid no attention. in the passage burguet said to me: "i have just come from the mayoralty, where they are busy in making out a report to the prefect in regard to the state of feeling among our population, and i accidentally heard that they are going to send sergeant trubert to your house." this was indeed a blow for me. i exclaimed: "i don't want him! i don't want him! i have lodged six men in the last fortnight, and it isn't my turn." he answered: "be quiet, and don't talk so loud. you will only make the matter worse." i repeated: "never, never shall this sergeant enter my house! it is abominable! a quiet man like myself, who has never harmed any one, and who asks nothing but peace!" while i was speaking, sorlé, on her way to market, with her basket on her arm, came down, and asked what was the matter. "listen, madame sorlé," said burguet to her; "be more reasonable than your husband! i can understand his indignation, and yet for all that, when a thing is inevitable we must submit to it. frichard dislikes you; he is secretary of the mayoralty; he distributes the billets for quartering soldiers according to a list. very well; he sends you sergeant trubert, a violent, bad man, i allow, but he needs lodging as well as the others. to everything which i have said in your favor, frichard has always replied: 'moses is rich. he has sent away his boys to escape conscription. he ought to pay for them.' the mayor, the governor, everybody thinks he is right. so, you see, i tell you as a friend, the more resistance you make, so much the more the sergeant will affront you, and frichard laugh at you, and there will be no help for it. be reasonable!" i was still more angry on finding that i owed these misfortunes to frichard. i would have exclaimed, but my wife laid her hand on my arm, and said: "let me speak, moses. monsieur burguet is right, and i am much obliged to him for telling us beforehand. frichard has a spite against us. very well; he must pay for it all, and we will settle with him by and by. now, when is the sergeant coming?" "at noon," replied burguet. "very well," said my wife; "he has a right to lodging, fire, and candles. we can't dispute that; but frichard shall pay for it all." she was pale, and i listened, for i saw that she was right. "be quiet, moses," she said to me afterward, "and don't say a word; let me manage it." "this is what i had to say to you," said burguet, "it is an abominable trick of frichard's. i will see, by and by, if it is possible to rid you of the sergeant. now i must go back to my post." sorlé had just started for the market. burguet pressed my hand, and as the peasants grew more impatient in their cries, i had to go back to my scales. i was full of rage. i sold that day more than two hundred francs' worth of iron, but my indignation against frichard, and my fear of the sergeant, took away all pleasure in anything. i might have sold ten times more without feeling any better. "ah! the rascal!" i said to myself; "he gives me no rest. i shall have no peace in this city." as the clock struck twelve the market closed, and people went away by the french gate. i shut up my shop and went home, thinking to myself: "now i shall be nothing in my own house; this trubert is going to rule everything. he will look down upon us as if we were germans or spaniards." i was in despair. but in the midst of my despair on the staircase, i suddenly perceived an odor of good things from the kitchen, and i went up in surprise, for i smelt fish and roast, as if it were a feast day. i was going into the kitchen, when sorlé appeared and said: "go into your chamber, shave yourself, and put on a clean shirt." i saw, at the same time, that she was dressed in her sabbath clothes, with her ear-rings, her green skirt, and her red silk neckerchief. "but why must i shave, sorlé?" i exclaimed. "go quick; you have no time to lose!" replied she. this woman had so much good sense, she had so many times set things right by her ready wit, that i said nothing more, and went into my bedroom to shave myself and put on a clean shirt. as i was putting on my shirt i heard little sâfel cry out: "here he is, mamma! here he is!" then steps were heard on the stairs, and a rough voice called: "holla! you folks. ho!" i thought to myself: "it is the sergeant," and i listened. "ah! here is our sergeant!" cried sâfel, triumphantly. "oh! that is good," replied my wife, in a cheerful tone. "come in, mr. sergeant, come in! we were expecting you. i knew that we were to have the honor of having a sergeant; we were glad to hear it, because we have had only common soldiers before. be so good as to come in, mr. sergeant." [illustration: "be so good as to come in, mr. sergeant."] she spoke in this way as if she were really pleased, and i thought to myself: "o sorlé, sorlé! you shrewd woman! you sensible woman! i see through it now. i see your cunning. you are going to mollify this rascal! ah, moses! what a wife you have! congratulate yourself! congratulate yourself!" i hastened to dress myself, laughing all the while; and i heard this brute of a sergeant say: "yes, yes! it is all very well. but that isn't the point! show me my room, my bed. you can't pay me with fine speeches; people know sergeant trubert too well for that." "certainly, mr. sergeant, certainly," replied my wife, "here is your room and your bed. see, it is the best we have." then they went into the passage, and i heard sorlé open the door of the handsome room which baruch and zeffen occupied when they came to phalsburg. i followed them softly. the sergeant thrust his fist into the bed to feel if it was soft. sorlé and sâfel looked on smilingly behind him. he examined every corner with a scowl. you never saw such a face, fritz; a gray bristling mustache, a long thin nose, hooked over the mouth; a yellow skin, full of wrinkles: he dragged the butt-end of his gun on the floor, without seeming to notice anything, and muttered ill-naturedly: "hem! hem! what is that down there?" "it is the wash-basin, mr. sergeant." "and these chairs, are they strong? will they bear anything?" he knocked them rudely down. it was evident he wanted to find fault with something. on turning round he saw me, and looking at me sideways, asked: "are you the citizen?" "yes, sergeant; i am." "ah!" he put his gun in a corner, threw his knapsack on the table, and said: "that will do! you may go." sâfel had opened the kitchen door, and the good smell of the roast came into the room. "mr. sergeant," said sorlé very pleasantly, "allow me to ask a favor of you." "you!" said he, looking at her over his shoulder, "ask a favor of me!" "yes. it is that since you now lodge with us, and will be in some respects one of the family, you will give us the pleasure of dining with us, at least for once." "ah, ah!" said he, turning his nose toward the kitchen, "that is another thing!" he seemed to be considering whether to grant us this favor or not. we waited for him to answer, when he gave another sniff and threw his cartridge-box on the bed, saying: "well, so be it! we will go and see!" "wretch!" thought i, "if i could make you eat potatoes!" but sorlé seemed satisfied, and said: "this way, mr. sergeant; this way, if you please." when we went into the dining-room i saw that everything was prepared as if for a prince; the floor swept, the table carefully laid, a white table-cloth, and our silver knives and forks. sorlé placed the sergeant in my arm-chair at the head of the table, which seemed to him the most natural thing in the world. our servant brought in the large tureen and took off the cover; the odor of a good cream soup filled the room, and we began our dinner. fritz, i could tell you everything we had for dinner; but believe me, neither you nor i ever had a better. we had a roasted goose, a magnificent pike, sauerkraut, everything, in fact, which could be desired for a grand dinner, and all served by sorlé in the most perfect manner. we had, too, four bottles of beaujolais warmed in napkins, as was the custom in winter, and an abundant dessert. well! do you believe that the rascal once had the grace to seem pleased with all this? do you believe that all through this dinner, which lasted nearly two hours, he once thought of saying, "this pike is excellent!" or, "this fat goose is well cooked!" or, "you have very good wine!" or any of the other things which we know are pleasant for a host to hear, and which repay a good cook for his trouble? no, fritz, not once! you would have supposed that he had such dinners every day. the more even that my wife flattered him, and the more kindly she spoke to him, the more he rebuffed her, the more he scowled, the more defiantly he looked at us, as if we wanted to poison him. from time to time i looked indignantly at sorlé, but she kept on smiling; she kept on giving the nicest bits to the sergeant; she kept on filling his glass. two or three times i wanted to say, "ah, sorlé, what a good cook you are! how nice this force-meat is!" but suddenly the sergeant would look down upon me as if to say, "what does that signify? perhaps you want to give me lessons? don't i know better than you do whether a thing is good or bad?" so i kept silence. i could have wished him--well, in worse company; i grew more and more indignant at every morsel which he swallowed in silence. nevertheless sorlé's example encouraged me to put a good face on the matter, and toward the end i thought, "now, since the dinner is eaten, since it is almost over, we will go on, with god's help. sorlé was mistaken, but it is all the same; her idea was a good one, except for such a rascal!" and i myself ordered coffee; i went to the closet, too, to get some cherry-brandy and old rum. "what is that?" asked the sergeant. "rum and cherry-brandy; old cherry-brandy from the 'black forest,'" i replied. "ah," said he, winking, "everybody says, 'i have got some cherry-brandy from the black forest!' it is very easy to say; but they can't cheat sergeant trubert; we will see about this!" in taking his coffee he twice filled his glass with cherry-brandy, and both times said, "he! he! we will see whether it is genuine." i could have thrown the bottle at his head. as sorlé went to him to pour a third glassful, he rose and said, "that is enough; thank you! the posts are doubled. this evening i shall be on guard at the french gate. the dinner, to be sure, was not a bad one. if you give me such now and then, we can get along with each other." he did not smile, and, indeed, seemed to be ridiculing us. "we will do our best, mr. sergeant," replied sorlé, while he went into his room and took his great-coat to go out. "we will see," said he as he went downstairs, "we will see!" till now i had said nothing, but when he was down i exclaimed, "sorlé, never, no never, was there such a rascal! we shall never get along with this man. he will drive us all from the house." "bah! bah! moses," she replied, laughing, "i do not think as thou dost! i have quite the contrary idea; we will be good friends, thou'lt see, thou'lt see!" "god grant it!" i said; "but i have not much hope of it." she smiled as she took off the table-cloth, and gave me too a little confidence, for this woman had a good deal of shrewdness, and i acknowledged her sound judgment. vii sergeant trubert in a new light you see, fritz, what the common people had to endure in those days. ah, well! just as we were performing extra service, while monborne was commanding me at the drilling, while sergeant trubert was down upon me, while we were hearing of domiciliary visits of inspection to ascertain what provisions the citizens had--in the midst of all this, my dozen pipes of spirits of wine were being slowly wheeled over the road. how i repented of having ordered them! how often i could have torn my hair as i thought that half my thirty years' gains were at the mercy of circumstances! how i prayed for the emperor! how i ran every morning to the coffee-houses and ale-houses to learn the news, and how i trembled as i read! nobody knew what i suffered, not even sorlé, for i kept it all from her. she was too keen-sighted not to perceive my anxiety, and sometimes she would say, "come, moses, have courage! all will come right--patience a little longer!" but the rumors which came from alsace, and german lorraine, and hundsruck, quite upset me: "they are coming! they will not dare to come! we are ready for them! they will take us by surprise! peace is going to be made! they will pass by to-morrow! we shall have no fighting this winter! they can wait no longer! the emperor is still in paris! marshal victor is at huninguen! they are impressing the custom-house officers, the forest-keepers, and the gendarmerie! some spanish dragoons went down by saverne yesterday! the mountaineers are to defend the vosges! there will be fighting in alsace!" etc., etc. your head would have been turned, fritz. in the morning the wind would blow one way and put you in good spirits; at night it would blow another way and you would be miserable. and my spirits of wine were coming nearer and nearer, and at last arrived, in the midst of this conflict of news, which might any day turn into a conflict of bullets and shells. if it had not been for my other troubles i should have been beside myself. fortunately, my indignation against monborne and the other villains diverted my mind. we heard nothing more of sergeant trubert after the great dinner for the remainder of that day, and the night following, as he was on guard; but the next morning, as i was getting up, behold, he came up the stairs, with his musket on his shoulder; he opened the door and began to laugh, with his mustaches all white with frost. i had just put on my pantaloons, and looked at him in astonishment. my wife was still in her room. "he! he! father moses," said he, in a good-natured voice, "it has been a dreadful cold night." he did not look or speak like the same person. "yes, sergeant," i replied, "it is december, and that is what we must expect." "what we must expect," he repeated;--"all the more reason for taking a drop. let us see, is there any more of that old cherry-brandy?" he looked, as he spoke, as if he could see through me. i got up at once from my arm-chair, and ran to fetch the bottle: "yes, yes, sergeant," i exclaimed, "there is more, drink and enjoy it." as i said this, his face, still a little hard, seemed to smile all over. he placed his gun in a corner, and, standing up, handed me the glass, saying, "pour out, father moses, pour out!" i filled it brimful. as i did so, he laughed quietly. his yellow face puckered up in hundreds of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and around his cheeks and mustaches and chin. he did not laugh so as to be heard, but his eyes showed his good-humor. "famous cherry-brandy this, in truth, father moses!" he said as he drank it. "a body knows who has drank it in the black forest, where it cost nothing! aren't you going to drink with me?" "with pleasure," i answered. and we drank together. he looked at me all the time. suddenly he said, with a mischievous look, "hey, father moses, say, you were afraid of me yesterday?" he smiled as he spoke. "oh--sergeant----" "come, come," said he, laying his hand upon my shoulder--"confess that i frightened you." he smiled so pleasantly that i could not help saying: "well, yes, a little!" "he! he! he! i knew it very well," said he. "you had heard them say, 'sergeant trubert is a tough one!' you were afraid, and you gave me a dinner fit for a prince to coax me!" he laughed aloud, and i ended by laughing too. sorlé had heard all, in the next room, and now came to the door and said, "good-morning, mr. sergeant." he exclaimed, "father moses, here is what may be called a woman! you can boast of having a spirited woman, a sly woman, slyer than you are, father moses; he, he, he! that is as it should be--that is as it should be!" sorlé was delighted. "oh! mr. sergeant," said she, "can you really think so?" "bah! bah!" he exclaimed. "you are a first-rate woman! i saw you when i first came, and said to myself, 'take heed, trubert! they make a fair pretence; it is a stratagem to send you to the hotel to sleep. we will let the enemy unmask his batteries!' "ha! ha! ha! you are nice folks. you gave me a dinner fit for a marshal of the empire. now, father moses, i invite myself to take a small glass of cherry-brandy with you now and then. put the bottle aside, by itself, it is excellent! and as for the rest, the room which you have given me is too handsome; i don't like such gewgaws; this fine furniture and these soft beds are good for women. what i want is a small room, like that at the side, two good chairs, a pine table, a plain bed with a mattress, paillasse, and coverings, and five or six nails in the wall for hanging my things. you just give me that!" "since you wish it, mr. sergeant." "yes, i wish it; the handsome room will be for state occasions." "you will breakfast with us?" asked my wife, well pleased. "i breakfast and dine at the cantine," replied the sergeant. "i do very well there; and i don't want to have good people go to any expense for me. when people respect an old soldier as he ought to be respected, when they treat him kindly, when they are like you,--trubert, too, is what he ought to be." "but, mr. sergeant!" said sorlé. "call me sergeant," said he, "i know you now. you are not like all the rabble of the city; rascals who have been growing rich while we have been off fighting; wretches who do nothing but heap up money and grow big at the expense of the army, who live on us, who are indebted to us for everything, and who send us to sleep in nests of vermin. ah! a thousand million thunders!" his face resumed its bad look; his mustaches shook with his anger, and i thought to myself, "what a good idea it was to treat him well! sorlé's ideas are always good!" but in a moment he relaxed, and laying his hand on my arm, he exclaimed: "to think that you are jews! a kind of abominable race; everything that is dirty and vile and niggardly! to think that you are jews! it is true, is it not, that you are jews?" "yes, sir," replied sorlé. "well, upon my word, i am surprised to hear it," said he; "i have seen so many jews, in poland and germany, that i thought to myself 'they are sending me to some jews; they had better look out or i'll smash everything.'" we kept silent in our mortification, and he added, "come, we will say no more about that. you are good, honest people; i should be sorry to trouble you. your hand, father moses!" i gave him my hand. "i like you," said he. "now, madame moses, the side room!" we showed him the small room that he asked for, and he went at once to fetch his knapsack from the other, saying as he went: "now i am among honest people! we shall have no difficulty in getting along together. you do not trouble me, i do not trouble you; i come in and go out, by day or night; it is sergeant trubert, that is enough. and now and then, in the morning, we will take our little glass; it is agreed, is it not, father moses!" "yes, sergeant." "and here is the key of the house," said sorlé. "very well; everything is arranged; now i am going to take a nap; good-by, my friends." "i hope you will sleep well, sergeant." we went out at once, and heard him lie down. "you see, moses, you see," whispered my wife, in the alley, "it has all come right." "yes," i replied, "all right, excellent; your plan was a good one; and now, if the spirits of wine only come, we shall be happy." viii father moses's first encounter from that time the sergeant lived with us without troubling anybody. every morning, before he went to his duties, he came and sat a few minutes in my room, and talked with me while he took his glass. he liked to laugh with sâfel, and we called him "our sergeant," as if he were one of the family. he seemed to like to be with us; he was a careful man; he would not allow our _schabisboïé_ to black his shoes; he cleaned his own buff-skins, and would not let any one touch his arms. one morning, when i was going to answer to the call, he met me in the alley, and, seeing a little rust on my musket, he began to swear like the devil. "ah! father moses, if i had you in my company, it would go hard with you!" "yes," thought i; "but, thank god, i'm not." sorlé, leaning over the balustrades above, laughed heartily. from that time the sergeant regularly inspected my equipments; i must clean my gun over and over, take it to pieces, clean the barrel and furbish the bayonet, as if i expected to go and fight. and even when he knew how monborne treated me, he also wanted to teach me the exercises. all my remonstrances were of no avail, he would frown, and say: "father moses, i can't stand it, that an honest man like you should know less than the rabble. go along!" and then we would up to the loft. it was very cold, but the sergeant was so provoked at my want of briskness in performing the movements, that he always put me in a great perspiration before we finished. "attention to the word of command, and no laziness!" he would exclaim. i used to hear sorlé, sâfel, and the servant laughing in the stairway, as they peeped through the laths, and i did not dare to turn my head. in fine, it was entirely owing to this good trubert that i learned to charge well, and became one of the best vaulters in the company. ah! fritz, it would all have been very well if the spirits of wine had come; but instead of my dozen pipes, there came half a company of marine artillery, and four hundred recruits for the sixth light infantry. about this time the governor ordered that a space six hundred metres wide should be cleared all round the city. you should have seen the havoc that was made in the place; the fences, palisades, and trees hewn down, the houses demolished, from which everybody carried away a beam or some timbers. you should have looked down from the ramparts and seen the little gardens, the line of poplars, the old trees in the orchards felled to the ground and dragged away by swarms of workmen. you should have seen all this to know what war is! father frise, the two camus boys, the sades, the bosserts, and all the families of the gardeners and small farmers who lived at phalsburg, suffered the most. i can almost hear old fritz exclaim: "ah! my poor apple-trees! ah! my poor pear-trees; i planted you myself, forty years ago. how beautiful you were, always covered with fine fruit! oh, misery! misery!" and the soldiers still chopped away. toward the end, old fritz went away, his cap drawn over his eyes, and weeping bitterly. the rumor spread also that they were going to burn the maisons rouges at the foot of the mittelbronn hill, the tile-kiln at pernette, and the little inns of _l'arbre vert_ and _panier fleuri_, but it seemed that the governor found it was not necessary as these houses were out of range; or rather, that they would reserve that till later; and, that the allies were coming sooner than they were expected. of what happened before the blockade, i remember, too, that on the twenty-second of december, about eleven o'clock in the morning, the call was beat. everybody supposed that it was for the drill, and i set out quietly, with my musket on my shoulder, as usual; but, as i reached the corner of the mayoralty, i saw the troops of the garrison formed under the trees of the square. they placed us with them in two ranks; and then governor moulin, commandants thomas and pettigenet, and the mayor, with his tri-colored sash, arrived. they beat the march, and then the drum-major raised his baton, and the drums stopped. the governor began to speak, everybody listened, and the words heard from a distance were repeated from one to another. "officers, non-commissioned, national guards, and soldiers! "the enemy is concentrated upon the rhine, only three days' march from us. the city is declared to be in a state of siege; the civil authorities give place to martial law. a permanent court-martial replaces ordinary tribunals. "inhabitants of phalsburg! we expect from you courage, devotion, obedience! _vive l'empereur_!" and a thousand cries of "_vive l'empereur_!" filled the air. i trembled to the ends of my hair; my spirits of wine were still on the road; i considered myself a ruined man. the immediate distribution of cartridges, and the order to the battalion to go and forage for provisions, and bring in cattle from the surrounding villages for the supply of the city, prevented me from thinking of my misfortune. i had also to think of my own life, for, in receiving such an order, we supposed of course that the peasants would resist, and it is abominable to have to fight the people you are robbing. i was very pale as i thought of all this. but when commandant thomas cried out, "charge!" and i tore off my first cartridge, and put it in the barrel, and, instead of hearing the ramrod i felt a ball at the bottom!--when they ordered us: "by file--left! left! forward! quick step! march!" and we set out for the barracks of the bois-de-chênes, while the first battalion went on to quatre-vents and bichelberg, the second to wechern and metting; when i thought that we were going to seize and carry away everything, and that the court-martial was at the mayoralty to pass sentence upon those who did not do their duty;--all these new and terrible things completely upset me. i was troubled as i saw the village in the distance, and pictured to myself beforehand the cries of the women and children. you see, fritz, to take from the poor peasant all his living at the beginning of winter; to take from him his cow, his goats, his pigs, everything in short, it is dreadful! and my own misfortune made me feel more for that of others. and then, as we marched, i thought of my daughter zeffen, and baruch, and their children, and i exclaimed to myself: "mercy on us! if the enemy comes, what will they do in an exposed town like saverne? they will lose everything. we may be beggared any day." these thoughts took away my breath, and in the midst of them i saw some peasants, who, from their little windows, watched our approach over the fields and along their street, without stirring. they did not know what we were coming for. six mounted soldiers preceded us; commandant thomas ordered them to pass to the right and left of the barracks, to prevent the peasants from driving their cattle into the woods, when they had found out that we had come to rob them. they set off on a gallop. we came to the first house, where there is the stone crucifix. we heard the order: "halt!" then thirty men were detached to act as sentinels in the little streets, and i was among the number, which i liked, for i preferred being on duty to going into their stables and barns. as we filed through the principal street the peasants asked us: "what is going on? have they been cutting wood? have they been making arrests?" and such like questions. but we did not answer them, and hastened on. monborne placed me in the third street to the right, near the large house of father franz, who raised bees on the slope of the valley behind his house. we heard the sheep bleating and the cattle lowing; that wretch of a monborne said, winking at me: "it will be jolly! we will make the baraquois open their eyes." he had no mercy in him. he said to me: "moses, thou must stay there. if any one tries to pass, cross your bayonet. if any one resists, prick him well and then fire. the law must be supported by force." i don't know where the cobbler picked up that expression; but he left me in the street, between two fences white with frost, and went on his way with the rest of the guard. i waited there nearly twenty minutes, considering what i should do if the peasants tried to save their property, and thinking it would be much better to fire upon the cattle than upon their owners. i was much perplexed and was very cold, when i heard a great shouting; at the same time the drum began to beat. some men went into the stables and drove the cattle. the baraquins swore and wept; some tried to defend themselves. commandant thomas cried out: "to the square! drive them to the square!" some cows escaped through the fences, and you can't imagine what a tumult there was. i congratulated myself that i was not in the midst of this pillage. but this did not last long, for suddenly a herd of goats, driven by two old women, filed down the street on their way to the valley. then i had to stop them with my bayonet and call out: "halt!" one of the women, mother migneron, knew me; she had a pitchfork, and was very pale. "let me pass, moses," said she. i saw that she was coming slowly toward me, meaning to throw me down with her pitchfork. the other tried to drive the goats into a little garden at the side, but the slats were too near together, and the fence too high. i should have liked to let them go by, and deny having seen anything; but, unfortunately, lieutenant rollet came up and called out: "attention!" and two men of the company followed: mâcry and schweyer, the brewer. old migneron, seeing me cross the bayonet, began to grind her teeth, saying: "ah! wretch of a jew, thou'lt pay for this!" she was so angry that she had no fear of my musket, and three times she tried to thrust her pitchfork into me; then i found the benefit of my drilling, for i parried all her attacks. two goats escaped between my legs; the rest were taken. the soldiers pushed back the old women, broke their pitchforks, and finally regained the chief street, which was full of cattle, lowing and kicking. old migneron sat down on the fence and tore her hair. just then two cows came along, their tails in the air, leaping over the fences and upsetting everything, the baskets of bees and their old keeper. fortunately, as it was winter, the bees remained as if dead in their baskets, or else i believe they would have routed our whole battalion. the horn of the _hardier_* sounded in the village. he had been summoned in the name of the law. this old _hardier_, nickel, passed along the street, and the animals became quiet, and could be put in some order. i saw the procession go along the street; the oxen and cows in front, then the goats, and the pigs behind. * herdsman. the baraquins followed, flinging stones and throwing sticks. i saw that, if i should be forgotten, these wretches would fall upon me, and i should be murdered; but sergeant monborne, with other comrades, came and relieved me. they all laughed and said: "we have shaved them well! there is not a goat left at the barracks; we have taken everything at one haul." we hastened to rejoin the column, which marched in two lines at the right and left of the road, the cattle in the middle, our company behind, and nickel, with commandant thomas, in front. this formed a file of at least three hundred paces. on every animal a bundle of hay had been tied for fodder. in this way we passed slowly into the cemetery lane. upon the glacis we halted, and tied up the animals, and the order came to take them down into the fosses behind the arsenal. we were the first that returned; we had seized thirty oxen, forty-five cows, a quantity of goats and pigs, and some sheep. all day long the companies were coming back with their booty, so that the fosses were filled with cattle, which remained in the open air. then the governor said that the garrison had provisions for six months, and every inhabitant must prove that he had enough to last as long, and that domiciliary visits were to begin. we broke ranks before the city hall. i was going up the main street, my gun on my shoulder, when some one called me: "hey! father moses!" i turned and saw our sergeant. "well," said he, laughing, "you have made your first attack; you have brought us back some provisions. well and good!" "yes, sergeant, but it is very sad!" "what, sad? thirty oxen, forty-five cows, some pigs and goats--it is magnificent!" "to be sure, but if you had heard the cries of these poor people, if you had seen them!" "bah! bah!" said he. "_primo_, father moses, soldiers must live; men must have their rations if they are going to fight. i have often seen these things done in germany and spain and italy! peasants are selfish; they want to keep their own; they do not regard the honor of the flag; that is trash! in some respects they would be worse than townspeople, if we were foolish enough to listen to them; we must be strict." "we have been, sergeant," i replied; "but if i had been master, we should not have robbed these poor wretches; they are in a pitiable condition enough already." "you are too compassionate, father moses, and you think that others are like yourself. but we must remember that peasants, citizens, civilians, live only by the soldiers, and have all the profit without wanting to pay any of the cost. if we followed your advice we should die of hunger in this little town; our peasants would support the russians, the austrians, and bavarians at our expense. this pack of scoundrels would be having a good time from morning to night, and the rest of us would be as poor as church-mice. that would not do--there is no sense in it!" he laughed aloud. we had now come into our passage, and i went upstairs. "is it thou, moses?" asked sorlé in the darkness, for it was nightfall. "yes, the sergeant and i." "ah, good!" said she; "i was expecting you." "madame moses," exclaimed the sergeant, "your husband can boast now of being a real soldier; he has not yet seen fire, but he has charged with his bayonet." "ah!" said sorlé, "i am very glad to see him back." in the room, through the little white door-curtains, we saw the lamp burning, and smelt the soup. the sergeant went to his room, as usual, and we into ours. sorlé looked at me with her great black eyes, she saw how pale i was, and knew what i was thinking about. she took from me my cartridge-box, and placed my musket in the closet. "where is sâfel?" i asked. "he must be in the square. i sent him to see if you had come back. hark! there he is coming up!" then i heard the child come up the stairs; he opened the door at once and ran joyfully to embrace me. we sat down to dinner, and, in spite of my trouble, i ate with a good appetite, having taken nothing since morning. suddenly sorlé said: "if the invoice does not come before the city gates are closed we shall not have to pay anything, for goods are at the risk of the merchant until they are delivered. and we have not received the inventory." "yes," i replied, "you are right; m. quataya, instead of sending us the spirits of wine at once, waited a week before answering us. if he had sent the twelve pipes that day or the day after, they would be here by this time. the delay is not our fault." you see, fritz, how anxious we were; but, as the sergeant came to smoke his pipe at the corner of the stove, as usual, we said no more about it. i spoke only of my fears in regard to zeffen, baruch, and their children, in an exposed town like saverne. the sergeant tried to put my mind at ease, and said that in such places they made, to be sure, all sorts of requisitions in wines, brandies, provisions, carriages, carts, and horses, but, except in case of resistance, the people were let alone, and the soldiers even tried to keep on good terms with them. we kept on talking till nearly ten o'clock; then the sergeant, who had to keep guard at the german gate, went away, and we went to bed. this was the night of the twenty-second and twenty-third of december, a very cold night. ix approach of the enemy the next morning, when i threw back the shutters of our room, everything was white with snow; the old elms of the square, the street, the roofs of the mayoralty and market and church. some of our neighbors, recco the tinman, spick the baker, and old durand the mattress-maker, opened their doors and looked as if dazzled, while they exclaimed: "he! winter has come!" although we see it every year yet it is like a new existence. we breathe better out of doors, and within it is a pleasure to sit in the corner of the fireplace and smoke our pipes, while we watch the crackling of the red fire. yes, i have always felt so for seventy-five years, and i feel so still! i had scarcely opened the shutters when sâfel sprang from his bed like a squirrel, and came and flattened his nose against a pane of glass, his long hair dishevelled and his legs bare. "oh! snow! snow!" he exclaimed. "now we can have some slides!" sorlé, in the next room, made haste to dress herself and run in. we all looked out for some minutes; then i went to make the fire, sorlé went to the kitchen, sâfel dressed himself hastily, and everything fell back into the ordinary channel. notwithstanding the falling snow, it was very cold. you need only to see the fire kindle at once, and hear it roar in the stove, to know that it was freezing hard. as we were eating our soup, i said to sorlé, "the poor sergeant must have passed a dreadful night. his little glass of cherry-brandy will taste good." "yes," she said, "it is well you thought of it." she went to the closet, and filled my little pocket-flask from the bottle of cherry-brandy. you know, fritz, that we do not like to go into public houses when we are on our way to our own business. each of us carries his own little bottle and crust of bread; it is the best way and most conformed to the law of the lord. sorlé then filled my flask, and i put it in my pocket, under my great-coat, to go to the guard-house. sâfel wanted to follow me, but his mother told him to stay, and i went down alone, well pleased at being able to do the sergeant a kindness. it was about seven o'clock. the snow falling from the roofs at every gust of wind was enough to blind you. but going along the walls, with my nose in my great-coat, which was well drawn up on the shoulders, i reached the german gate, and was about going down the three steps of the guard-house, under the arch at the left, when the sergeant himself opened the heavy door and exclaimed: "is it you, father moses! what the devil has brought you here in this cold?" the guard-house was full of mist; we could hardly see some men stretched on camp-beds at the farther end, and five or six veterans near the red-hot stove. i stood and looked. "here," i said to the sergeant as i handed him my little bottle, "i have brought you your drop of cherry-brandy; it was such a cold night, you must need it." "and you have thought of me, father moses!" he exclaimed, taking me by the arm, and looking at me with emotion. "yes, sergeant." "well, i am glad of it." he raised the flask to his mouth and took a good drink. at that moment there was a distant cry. "who goes there?" and the guard of the outpost ran to open the gate. "that is good!" said the sergeant, tapping on the cork, and giving me the bottle; "take it back, father moses, and thank you!" then he turned toward the half-moon and asked, "news! what is it?" we both looked and saw a hussar quartermaster, a withered, gray old man, with quantities of chevrons on his arm, arrive in great haste. all my life i shall have that man before my eyes; his smoking horse, his flying sabretash, his sword clinking against his boots; his cap and jacket covered with frost; his long, bony, wrinkled face, his pointed nose, long chin, and yellow eyes. i shall always see him riding like the wind, then stopping his rearing horse under the arch in front of us, and calling out to us with a voice like a trumpet: "where is the governor's house, sergeant?" "the first house at the right, quartermaster. what is the news?" "the enemy is in alsace!" those who have never seen such men--men accustomed to long warfare, and hard as iron--can have no idea of them. and then if you had heard the exclamation, "the enemy is in alsace!" it would have made you tremble. the veterans had gone away; the sergeant, as he saw the hussar fasten his horse at the governor's door, said to me: "ah, well, father moses, now we shall see the whites of their eyes!" he laughed, and the others seemed pleased. as for myself, i set forth quickly, with my head bent, and in my terror repeating to myself the words of the prophet: "one post shall run to meet another, and one messenger to meet another, to show the king that his passages are stopped, and the reeds they have burned with fire, and the men of war are affrighted. "the mighty men have forborne to fight, they have remained in their holds, their might hath failed, and the bars are broken. "set ye up a standard in the land, blow the trumpet among the nations, prepare the nations against her, call together against her the kingdoms, appoint a captain against her. "and the land shall tremble and sorrow; for every purpose of the lord shall be performed, to make the land a desolation without an inhabitant!" i saw my ruin at hand--the destruction of my hopes. "mercy, moses!" exclaimed my wife, as she saw me come back, "what is the matter? your face is all drawn up. something dreadful has happened." "yes, sorlé," i said, as i sat down; "the time of trouble has come of which the prophet spoke: 'the king of the south shall push at him, and the king of the north shall come against him like a whirlwind; and he shall enter into the countries and shall overflow and pass over.'" this i said with my hands raised toward heaven. little sâfel squeezed himself between my knees, while sorlé looked on, not knowing what to say; and i told them that the austrians were in alsace; that the bavarians, swedes, prussians, and russians were coming by hundreds of thousands; that a hussar had come to announce all these calamities; that our spirits of wine were lost, and ruin was threatening us. i shed a few tears, and neither sorlé nor sâfel would comfort me. it was eight o'clock. there was a great commotion in the city. we heard the drum beat, and proclamations read; it seemed as if the enemy were already there. one thing which i remember especially, for we had opened a window to hear, was that the governor ordered the inhabitants to empty immediately their barns and granaries; and that, while we were listening, a large alsatian wagon with two horses, with baruch sitting on the pole, and zeffen behind on some straw--her infant in her arms, and her other child at her side--turned suddenly into the street. they were coming to us for safety! the sight of them upset me, and raising my hands, i exclaimed: "lord, take from me all weakness! thou seest that i need to live for the sake of these little ones. therefore be thou my strength, and let me not be cast down!" and i went down at once to receive them, sorlé and sâfel following me. i took my daughter in my arms, and helped her to the ground, while sorlé took the children, and baruch exclaimed: "we came at the last minute! the gate was closed as soon as we had come in. there were many others from quatre-vents and saverne who had to stay outside." "god be praised, baruch!" i replied. "you are all welcome, my dear children! i have not much, i am not rich; but what i have, you have--it is all yours. come in!" and we went upstairs; zeffen, sorlé, and i carrying the children, while baruch stayed to take their things out of the wagon, and then he came up. the street was now full of straw and hay, thrown out from the lofts; there was no wind, and the snow had stopped falling. in a little while the shouts and proclamations ceased. sorlé hastened to serve up the remains of our breakfast, with a bottle of wine; and baruch, while he was eating, told us that there was a panic in alsace, that the austrians had turned basle, and were advancing by forced marches upon schlestadt, neuf brisach, and strasburg, after having surrounded huninguen. "everybody is escaping," said he. "they are fleeing to the mountain, taking their valuables on their carts, and driving their cattle into the woods. there is a rumor already that bands of cossacks have been seen at mutzig, but that is hardly possible, as the army of marshal victor is on the upper rhine, and dragoons are passing every day to join him. how could they pass his lines without giving battle?" we were listening very attentively to these things when the sergeant came in. he was just off duty, and stood outside of the door, looking at us with astonishment. i took zeffen by the hand, and said: "sergeant, this is my daughter, this is my son-in-law, and these are my grandchildren, about whom i have told you. they know you, for i have told them in my letters how much we think of you." the sergeant looked at zeffen.--"father moses," said he, "you have a handsome daughter, and your son-in-law looks like a worthy man." then he took little esdras from zeffen's arms, and lifted him up, and made a face at him, at which the child laughed, and everybody was pleased. the other little one opened his eyes wide and looked on. "my children have come to stay with me," i said to the sergeant; "you will excuse them if they make a little noise in the house?" "how! father moses," he exclaimed. "i will excuse everything! do not be concerned; are we not old friends?" and at once, in spite of all we could say, he chose another room looking upon the court. "all the nestful ought to be together," said he. "i am the friend of the family, the old sergeant, who will not trouble anybody, provided they are willing to see him here." i was so much moved that i gave him both my hands. "it was a happy day when you entered my house," said i. "the lord be thanked for it!" he laughed, and said: "come now, father moses; come! have i done anything more than was natural? why do you wonder at it?" he went at once to get his things and carry them to his new room; and then went away, so as not to disturb us. how we are mistaken! this sergeant, whom frichard had sent to plague us, at the end of a fortnight was one of our family; he consulted our comfort in everything--and, notwithstanding all the years that have passed since then, i cannot think of that good man without emotion. when we were alone, baruch told us that he could not stay at phalsburg; that he had come to bring his family, with everything that he could provide for them in the first hurried moments; but that, in the midst of such dangers, when the enemy could not long delay coming, his duty was to guard his house, and prevent, as much as possible, the pillage of his goods. this seemed right, though it made us none the less grieved to have him go. we thought of the pain of living apart from each other; of hearing no tidings; of being all the time uncertain about the fate of our beloved ones! meanwhile we were all busy. sorlé and zeffen prepared the children's bed; baruch took out the provisions which he had brought; sâfel played with the two little ones, and i went and came, thinking about our troubles. at last, when the best room was ready for zeffen and the children, as the german gate was already shut, and the french gate would be open only until two o'clock at the latest, for strangers to leave the city, baruch exclaimed: "zeffen, the moment has come!" he had scarcely said the words when the great agony began--cries, embraces, and tears! ah! it is a great joy to be loved, the only true joy of life. but what sorrow to be separated! and how our family loved each other! how zeffen and baruch embraced one another! how they leaned over their little ones, how they looked at them, and began to sob again! what can be said at such a moment? i sat by the window, with my hands before my face, without strength to speak. i thought to myself: "my god, must it be that a single man shall hold in his hands the fate of us all! must it be that, for his pleasure, for the gratification of his pride, everything shall be confounded, overturned, torn asunder! my god, shall these troubles never end? hast thou no pity on thy poor creatures?" i did not raise my eyes, but i heard the lamentations which rent my heart, and which lasted till the moment when baruch, perceiving that zeffen was quite exhausted, ran out, exclaiming: "it must be! it must be! adieu, zeffen! adieu, my children! adieu, all!" no one followed him. we heard the carriage roll away, and then was the great sorrow--that sorrow of which it is written: "by the rivers of babylon, there we sat down; yea, we wept when we remembered zion. "we hanged our harps upon the willows. "for there they that carried us away captive, required of us a song, saying: 'sing us one of the songs of zion!' "how shall we sing the lord's song in a strange land?" x an engagement with the cossacks but that day i was to have the greatest fright of all. you remember, fritz, that sorlé had told me at supper the night before, that if we did not receive the invoice, our spirits of wine would be at the risk of m. quataya of pézenas, and that we need feel no anxiety about it. i thought so, too, for it seemed to me right; and as the french and german gates were closed at three o'clock, and nothing more could enter the city, i supposed that that was the end of the matter, and felt quite relieved. "it is a pity, moses!" i said to myself, as i walked up and down the room; "yes, for if these spirits had been sent a week sooner, we should have made a great profit; but now, at least, thou art relieved of great anxiety. be content with thine old trade. let alone for the future such harassing undertakings. don't stake thine all again on one throw, and let this be a lesson to thee!" such thoughts were in my mind, when, about four o'clock, i heard some one coming up our stairs. it was a heavy step, as of a man trying to find his way in the dark. zeffen and sorlé were in the kitchen, preparing supper. women always have something to talk about by themselves, for nobody else to hear. so i listened, and then opened the door. "who is there?" i asked. "does not mr. moses, the wine-merchant, live here?" asked the man in a blouse and broad-brimmed felt hat, with his whip on his shoulder--a wagoner's figure, in short. i turned pale as i heard him, and replied: "yes, my name is moses. what do you want?" he came in, and took out a large leather portfolio from under his blouse. i trembled as i looked on. "there!" said he, giving me two papers, "my invoice and my bill of lading! are not the twelve pipes of three-six from pézenas for you?" "yes, where are they?" "on the mittelbronn hill, twenty minutes from here," he quietly answered. "some cossacks stopped my wagons, and i had to take off the horses. i hurried into the city by a postern under the bridge." my legs failed me as he spoke. i sank into my arm-chair, unable to speak a word. "you will pay me the portage," said the man, "and give me a receipt for the delivery." "sorlé! sorlé!" i cried in a despairing voice. and she and zeffen ran to me. the wagoner explained it all to them. as for me, i heard nothing. i had strength only to exclaim: "now all is lost! now i must pay without receiving the goods." "we are willing to pay, sir," said my wife, "but the letter states that the twelve pipes shall be delivered in the city." the wagoner said: "i have just come from the justice of the peace, as i wanted to find out before coming to you what i had a right to claim; he told me that you ought to pay for everything, even my horses and carriages, do you understand? i unharnessed my horses, and escaped, myself, which is so much the less on your account. will you settle? yes or no?" we were almost dead with fright when the sergeant came in. he had heard loud words, and asked: "what is it, father moses? what is it about? what does this man want?" sorlé, who never lost her presence of mind, told him the whole story, shortly and clearly; he comprehended it at once. "twelve pipes of three-six, that makes twenty-four pipes of cognac. what luck for the garrison! what luck!" "yes," said i, "but it cannot come in; the city gates are shut, and the wagons are surrounded by cossacks." "cannot come in!" cried the sergeant, raising his shoulders. "go along! do you take the governor for a fool? is he going to refuse twenty-four pipes of good brandy, when the garrison needs it? is he going to leave this windfall to the cossacks? madame sorlé, pay the portage at once; and you, father moses, put on your cap and follow me to the governor's, with the letter in your pocket. come along! don't lose a minute! if the cossacks have time to put their noses in your casks, you will find a famous deficit, i warrant you!" when i heard that i exclaimed: "sergeant, you have saved my life!" and i hastened to get my cap. "shall i pay the portage?" asked sorlé. "yes! pay!" i answered as i went down, for it was plain that the wagoner could compel us. i went down with an anxious heart. all that i remember after this is that the sergeant walked before me in the snow, that he said a few words to the sapper on orderly duty at the governor's house, and that we went up the grand stairway with the marble balustrade. upstairs, in the gallery with the balustrade around it, he said to me: "be easy, father moses! take out your letter, and let me do the talking." he knocked softly at a door as he spoke: somebody said: "come in!" we went in. colonel moulin, a fat man in a dressing-gown and little silk cap, was smoking his pipe in front of a good fire. he was very red, and had a caraffe of rum and a glass at its side on the marble mantel-piece, where were also a clock and vases of flowers. "what is it?" he asked, turning round. "colonel, this is what is the matter," replied the sergeant: "twelve pipes of spirits of wine have been stopped on the mittelbronn hill, and are surrounded by cossacks." "cossacks!" exclaimed the governor. "have they broken through our lines already?" "yes," said the sergeant, "a sudden attack of cossacks! they have possession of the twelve pipes of three-six which this patriot brought from pézenas to sustain the garrison." "some bandits," said the governor--"thieves!" "here is the letter," said the sergeant, taking it from my hand. the colonel cast his eyes over it, and said hastily: "sergeant, go and take twenty-five men of your company. go on the run, free the wagons, and put in requisition horses from the village to bring them into the city." and, as we were going: "wait!" said he; and he went to his bureau and wrote four words; "here is the order." when we were once on the stairway, the sergeant said: "father moses, run to the cooper's; we may perhaps need him and his boys. i know the cossacks; their first thought will be to unload the casks so as to be more sure of keeping them. have them bring ropes and ladders; and i will go to the barracks and get my men together." then i ran home like a hart, for i was enraged at the cossacks. i went in to get my musket and cartridge-box. i could have fought an army: i could not see straight. "what is it? where are you going?" asked sorlé and zeffen. "you will know by and by," i replied. i went to schweyer's. he had two large saddle-pistols, which he put quickly into his apron-belt with the axe; his two boys, nickel and frantz, took the ladder and ropes, and we ran to the french gate. the sergeant was not yet there; but two minutes after he came running down the street by the rampart with thirty veterans in file, their muskets on their shoulders. the officer guarding the postern had only to see the order to let us go out, and a few minutes after we were in the trenches behind the hospital, where the sergeant ranged his men. "it is cognac!" he told them; "twenty-four pipes of cognac! so, comrades, attention! the garrison is without brandy; those who do not like brandy have only to fall to the rear." but they all wanted to be in front, and laughed in anticipation. we went up the stairway, and were ranged in order in the covered ways. it might have been five o'clock. looking from the top of the glacis we could see the broad meadow of eichmatt, and above it the hills of mittelbronn covered with snow. the sky was full of clouds, and night was coming on. it was very cold. "forward!" said the sergeant. and we gained the highway. the veterans ran, in two files, at the right and left, their backs rounded, and their muskets in their shoulder-belts; the snow was up to their knees. schweyer, his two boys, and i walked behind. at the end of a quarter of an hour, the veterans, who ran all the way, had left us far behind; we heard for some time their cartridge-boxes rattling, but soon this sound was lost in the distance, and then we heard the dog of the trois-maisons barking in his chain. the deep silence of the night gave me a chance to think. if it had not been for the thought of my spirits of wine, i would have gone straight back to phalsburg, but fortunately that thought prevailed, and i said: "make haste, schweyer, make haste!" "make haste!" he exclaimed angrily, "you can make haste to get back your spirits of wine, but what do we care for it? is the highway the place for us? are we bandits that we should risk our lives?" i understood at once that he wanted to escape, and was enraged. "take care, schweyer," said i, "take care! if you and your boys go back, people will say that you have been a traitor to the city brandy, and that is worse than being a traitor to the flag, especially in a cooper." "the devil take thee!" said he, "we ought never to have come." however, he kept on ascending the hill with me. nickel and frantz followed us without hurrying. when we reached the plateau we saw lights in the village. all was still and seemed quiet, although there was a great crowd around the two first houses. the door of the _bunch of grapes_ was wide open, and its kitchen fire shone through the passage to the street where my two wagons stood. this crowd came from the cossacks who were carousing at heitz's house, after tying their horses under the shed. they had made mother heitz cook them a good hot soup, and we saw them plainly, two or three hundred paces distant, go up and down the outside steps, with jugs and bottles which they passed from one to another. the thought came to me that they were drinking my spirits of wine, for a lantern hung behind the first wagon, and the rascals were all going from it with their elbows raised. i was so furious that, regardless of danger, i began to run to put a stop to the pillage. fortunately the veterans were in advance of me, or i should have been murdered by the cossacks; i had not gone half way when our whole troop sprang from the fences of the highway, and ran like a pack of wolves, crying out, "to the bayonet!" you never saw such confusion, fritz. in a second the cossacks were on their horses, and the veterans in the midst of them; the front of the inn with its trellis, its pigeon-house, and its little fenced garden, was lighted up by the firing of muskets and pistols. heitz's two daughters stood at the windows, with their arms lifted and screamed so that they could be heard all over mittelbronn. every minute, in the midst of the confusion, something fell upon the road, and then the horses started and ran through the fields like deer, with their heads run out, and their manes and tails flying. the villagers ran; father heitz slipped into the barn, and climbed up the ladder, and i came up breathless, as if out of my senses. i had not gone more than fifteen steps when a cossack, who was running away at full speed, turned about furiously close to me, with his lance in the air, and called out, "hurra!" i had only time to stoop, and i felt the wind from the lance as it passed along my body. i never felt so in my life, fritz; i felt the chill of death, that trembling of the flesh, of which the prophet spoke: "fear came upon me and trembling; the hair of my flesh stood up." [illustration: i shuddered in my very soul and my hair bristled.] but what shows the spirit of wisdom and prudence which the lord puts into his creatures, when he means to spare them for a good old age, is that immediately afterward, in spite of my trembling knees, i went and sat under the first wagon, where the blows of the lances could not reach me; and there i saw the veterans finish the extermination of the rascals, who had retreated into the court, and not one of whom escaped. five or six were in a heap before the door, and three others were stretched upon the highway. this did not take more than ten minutes; then all was dark again, and i heard the sergeant call: "cease firing!" heitz, who had come down from his hay-loft, had just lighted a lantern; the sergeant seeing me under the wagon, called out: "are you wounded, father moses?" "no," i replied, "but a cossack tried to thrust his lance into me, and i got into a safe place." he laughed aloud, and gave me his hand to help me to rise. "father moses," said he, "i was frightened about you. wipe your back; people might think you were not brave." i laughed too, and thought: "people may think what they please! the great thing is to live in good health as long as possible." we had only one wounded, corporal duhem, an old man, who bandaged his own leg, and tried to walk. he had had a blow from a lance in the right calf. he was placed on the first wagon, and lehnel, heitz's granddaughter, came and gave him a drop of cherry-brandy, which at once restored his strength and even his good spirits. "it is the fifteenth," he exclaimed. "i am in for a week at the hospital; but leave me the bottle for the compresses." i was delighted to see my twelve pipes on the wagons, for schweyer and his two boys had run away, and without their help we could hardly have reloaded. i tapped at once at the bung-hole of the hindmost cask to find out how much was missing. these scamps of cossacks had already drunk nearly half a measure of spirits; father heitz told me that some of them scarcely added a drop of water. such creatures must have throats of tin; the oldest topers among us could not bear a glass of three-six without being upset. at last all was ready and we had only to return to the city. when i think of it, it all seems before me now: heitz's large dapple-gray horses going out of the stable one by one; the sergeant standing by the dark door with his lantern in his hand, and calling out, "come, hurry up! the rascals may come back!" on the road in front of the inn, the veterans surrounded the wagons; farther on the right some peasants, who had hastened to the scene with pitchforks and mattocks, were looking at the dead cossacks, and myself, standing on the stairs above, singing praises to god in my heart as i thought how glad sorlé and zeffen and little sâfel would be to see me come back with our goods. and then when all is ready, when the little bells jingle, when the whip snaps, and we start on the way--what delight! ah fritz! everything looks bright after thirty years; we forget fears, anxieties, and fatigues; but the memory of good men and happy hours remains with us forever! the veterans, on both sides of the wagons, with their muskets under their arms, escorted my twelve pipes as if they were the tabernacle; heitz led the horses, and the sergeant and i walked behind. "well, father moses!" said he laughing, "it has all gone off well; are you satisfied?" "more than i can possibly tell, sergeant! what would have been my ruin will make the fortune of my family, and we owe it all to you." "go along," said he, "you are joking." he laughed, but i felt deeply; to have been in danger of losing everything, and then to regain it all and make profit out of it--it makes one feel deeply. i exclaimed inwardly: "i will praise thee, o lord, among the people; and i will sing praises unto thee among the nations. "for thy mercy is great above the heavens, and thy truth reacheth unto the clouds." xi father moses returns in triumph now i must tell you about our return to phalsburg. you may suppose that my wife and children, after seeing me take my gun and go away, were in a state of great anxiety. about five o'clock sorlé went out with zeffen to try to learn what was going on, and only then they heard that i had started for mittelbronn with a detachment of veterans. imagine their terror! the rumor of these extraordinary proceedings had spread through the city, and quantities of people were on the bastion of the artillery barracks, looking on from the distance. burguet was there, with the mayor, and other persons of distinction, and a number of women and children, all trying to see through the darkness. some insisted that moses marched with the detachment, but nobody would believe it, and burguet exclaimed: "it is not possible that a sensible man like moses would go and risk his life in fighting cossacks--no, it is not possible!" if i had been in his place i should have said the same of him. but what can you do, fritz? the most prudent of men become blind when their property is at stake; blind, i say, and terrible, for they lose sight of danger. this crowd was waiting, as i said, and soon zeffen and sorlé came, as pale as death, with their large shawls over their heads. they went up the rampart and stood there, with their feet in the snow, too much frightened to speak. i learned these things afterward. when zeffen and her mother went up on the bastion, it was, perhaps, half-past five; there was not a star to be seen. just at that time, schweyer and his boys ran away, and five minutes later the skirmish began. burguet told me afterward that, notwithstanding the darkness and the distance, they saw the flash of the muskets around the inn as plainly as if they were a hundred paces off, and everybody was still and listened to hear the shots, which were repeated by the echoes of the bois-de-chênes and lutzelburg. when they ceased sorlé descended from the slope leaning on zeffen's arm, for she could not support herself. burguet helped them to reach the street, and took them into old frise's house on the corner, where they found him warming himself gloomily by his hearth. "my last day has come!" said sorlé. zeffen wept bitterly. i have often reproached myself for having caused this sorrow, but who can answer for his own wisdom? has not the wise man himself said: "i turned myself to behold wisdom, and madness, and folly; and i saw that wisdom excelleth folly; and i myself perceived that one event happeneth to the wise man and the fool. wherefore, i said in my heart, that wisdom also is vanity." burguet was going out from father frise's when schweyer and his sons came up the postern stairs, crying out that we were surrounded by cossacks and lost. fortunately my wife and daughter could not hear them, and the mayor soon came along and ordered them to stop talking and go home quickly, if they did not want to be sent to prison. they obeyed, but that did not prevent people from believing what they said, especially as it was all dark again in the direction of mittelbronn. the crowd came down from the ramparts and filled the street; many of them went to their homes thinking they should never see us again, when, just as the clock struck seven, the sentinel of the outworks called out, "who goes there?" we had reached the gate. the crowd was soon on the ramparts again. the squad in front of the sergeant on duty flew to arms; they had just recognized us. we heard the murmur, without knowing what it was. so, when, after a reconnoissance, the gates were slowly opened to us, and the two bridges lowered for us to pass, what was our surprise at hearing the shouts: "hurrah for father moses! hurrah for the spirits of wine!" the tears came to my eyes. and my wagons rolling heavily under the gates, the soldiers presented arms to us, the great crowd surrounding us, shouting: "moses! hey, moses! are you all right? you have not been killed?" the shouts of laughter, the people seizing my arm to hear me tell about the fight,--all these things were very pleasant. everybody wanted to talk with me, even the mayor, and i had not time to answer them. but all this was nothing compared with the joy i felt at seeing sorlé, zeffen, and little sâfel run from father frise's and throw themselves all at once into my arms, exclaiming: "he is safe! he is safe!" ah, fritz! what are honors by the side of such love? what is all the glory of the world compared with the joy of seeing our beloved ones? the others might have cried out, "hurrah for moses!" a hundred years, and i would not even have turned my head; but i was terribly moved by the sight of my family. i gave sâfel my gun, and while the wagons, escorted by the veterans, went on toward the little market, i led zeffen and sorlé through the crowd to old frise's, and there, when we were alone, we began to hug each other again. without, the shouts of joy were redoubled; you would have thought that the spirits of wine belonged to the whole city. but within the room, my wife and daughter burst into tears, and i confessed my imprudence. so, instead of telling them of the dangers i had experienced, i told them that the cossacks ran away as soon as they saw us, and that we had only to put horses to the wagons before starting. a quarter of an hour afterward, when the cries and tumult had ceased, i went out, with zeffen and sorlé on my arms, and little sâfel in front, with my gun on his shoulder, and in this way we went home, to see to the unlading of the brandy. i wanted to put everything in order before morning, so as to begin to sell at double price as soon as possible. when a man runs such risks he ought to make something by it; for if he should sell at cost price, as some persons wish, nobody would be willing to run any risk for the sake of others; and if it should come to pass that a man should sacrifice himself for other people, he would be thought a blockhead; we have seen it a hundred times, and it will always be so. thank god! such ideas never entered into my head! i have always thought that the true idea of trade was to make as much profit as we can, honestly and lawfully. that is according to justice and good sense. as we turned at the corner of the market, our two wagons were already unharnessed before our house. heitz was running back with his horses, so as to take advantage of the open gates, and the veterans, with their arms at will, were going up the street toward the infantry quarters. it might have been eight o'clock. zeffen and sorlé went to bed, and i sent sâfel for gros the cooper, to come and unload the casks. quantities of people came and offered to help us. gros came soon with his boys, and the work began. it is very pleasant, fritz, to see great tuns going into your cellar, and to say to yourself, "these splendid tuns are mine: it is spirits which cost me twenty sous the quart, and which i am going to sell for three francs!" this shows the beauty of trade; but everybody can imagine the pleasure for himself--there is no use in speaking of it. about midnight my twelve pipes were down on the stands, and there was nothing left to do but to broach them. while the crowd was dispersing, i engaged gros to come in the morning to help me mix the spirits with water, and we went up, well pleased with our day's work. we closed the double oak door, and i fastened the padlock and went to bed. what a pleasure it is to own something and feel that it is all safe! this is how my twelve pipes were saved. you see now, fritz, what anxieties and fears we had at that time. nobody was sure of anything; for you must not suppose that i was the only one living like a bird on the branch; there were hundreds of others who were not able to close their eyes. you should have seen how the citizens looked every morning, when they heard that the austrians and russians occupied alsace, that the prussians were marching upon sarrebruck, or when an order was published for domiciliary visits, or for days' labor to wall up the posterns and orillons of the place, or to form companies of firemen to remove at once all inflammable matter, or to report to the governor the situation of the city treasury, and the list of the principal persons subject to taxes for the supply of shoes, caps, bed-linen, and so forth. you should have seen how people looked at each other. in war times civil life is nothing, and they will take from you your last shirt, giving you the governor's receipt for it. the first men of the land are zeros when the governor has spoken. this is why i have often thought that everybody who wishes for war, or at least wants to be a soldier, is either demented or half ruined, and hopes to better himself by the ruin of everybody else. it must be so. but notwithstanding all these troubles, i could not lose time, and i spent all the next day in mixing my spirits. i took off my cloak, and drew out with great gusto. gros and his boys brought jugs, and emptied them in the casks which i had bought beforehand, so that by evening these casks were brimful of good white brandy, eighteen degrees. i had caramel prepared, also, to give the brandy a good color of old cognac, and when i turned the faucet, and raised the glass before the candle, and saw that it was exactly the right tint, i was in ecstasies, and exclaimed: "give strong drink unto him that is ready to perish, and wine unto those that be of heavy hearts! let him drink and remember his misery no more." father gros, standing at my side on his great flat feet, smiled quietly, and his boys looked well pleased. i filled the glass for them; they passed it to each other and were delighted with it. about five o'clock we went upstairs. sâfel, on the same day, had brought three workmen, and had them remove our old iron into the court under the shed. the old rickety storehouse was cleaned. desmarets, the joiner, put up some shelves behind the door in the arch, for holding bottles, and glasses, and tin measures, when the time for selling should come, and his son put together the planks of the counter. this was all done at once, as at a time of great pressure, when people like to make a good sum of money quickly. i looked at it all with a good deal of satisfaction. zeffen, with her baby in her arms, and sorlé, had also come down. i showed my wife the place behind the counter, and said, "that is the place where you are to sit, with your feet in loose slippers, and a warm tippet on your shoulders, and sell our brandy." she smiled as she thought of it. our neighbors, bailly the armorer, koffel the little weaver, and several others, came and looked on without speaking; they were astonished to see what quick work we were making. at six o'clock, just as desmarets laid aside his hammer, the sergeant arrived in great glee, on his return from the cantine. "well, father moses!" he exclaimed, "the work goes on! but there is still something wanting." "what is that, sergeant?" "hi! it is all right, only you must put a screen up above, or look out for the shells!" i saw that he was right, and we were all well frightened, except the neighbors, who laughed to see our surprise. "yes," said the sergeant, "we must have it." this took away all my pleasure; i saw that our troubles were not yet at an end. sorlé, zeffen, and i went up, while desmarets closed the door. supper was ready; we sat down thoughtfully, and little sâfel brought the keys. the noise had ceased without; now and then a citizen on patrol passed by. the sergeant came to smoke his pipe as usual. he explained how the screens were made, by crossing beams in the form of a sentry-box, the two sides supported against the gables, but while he maintained that it would hold like an arch, i did not think it strong enough, and i saw by sorlé's face that she thought as i did. we sat there talking till ten o'clock, and then all went to bed. xii the enemy repulsed about one o'clock in the morning of the sixth of january, the day of the feast of the kings, the enemy arrived on the hill of saverne. it was terribly cold, our windows under the persiennes were white with frost. i woke as the clock struck one; they were beating the call at the infantry barracks. you can have no idea how it sounded in the silence of the night. "dost thou hear, moses?" whispered sorlé. "yes, i hear," said i, almost without breathing. after a minute some windows were opened in our street, and we knew that others too were listening; then we heard running, and suddenly the cry, "to arms! to arms!" it made one's hair stand on end. i had just risen, and was lighting a lamp, when we heard two knocks at our door. "come in!" said sorlé, trembling. the sergeant opened the door. he was in marching equipments, with his gaiters on his legs, his large gray cap turned up at the sides, his musket on his shoulder, and his sabre and cartridge-box on his back. "father moses," said he, "go back to bed and be quiet: it is the battalion call at the barracks, and has nothing to do with you." and we saw at once that he was right, for the drums did not come up the street two by two, as when the national guard was called in. "thank you, sergeant," i said. "go to sleep!" said he, and he went down the stairs. the door of the alley below slammed to. then the children, who had waked up, began to cry. zeffen came in, very pale, with her baby in her arms, exclaiming, "mercy! what is the matter?" "it is nothing, zeffen," said sorlé. "it is nothing, my child: they are beating the call for the soldiers." at the same moment the battalion came down the main street. we heard them march as far as to the place d'armes, and beyond it toward the german gate. we shut the windows, zeffen went back to her room, and i lay down again. but how could i sleep after such a start? my head was full of a thousand thoughts: i fancied the arrival of the russians on the hill this cold night, and our soldiers marching to meet them, or manning the ramparts. i thought of all the blindages and block-houses, and batteries inside the bastions, and that all these great works had been made to guard against bombs and shells, and i exclaimed inwardly: "before the enemy has demolished all these works, our houses will be crushed, and we shall be exterminated to the last man." i took on in this way for about half an hour, thinking of all the calamities which threatened us, when i heard outside the city, toward quatre-vents, a kind of heavy rolling, rising and falling like the murmur of running water. this was repeated every second. i raised myself on my elbow to listen, and i knew that it was a fight far more terrible than that at mittelbronn, for the rolling did not stop, but seemed rather to increase. "how they are fighting, sorlé, how they are fighting!" i exclaimed, as i pictured to myself the fury of those men murdering each other at the dead of night, not knowing what they were doing. "listen! sorlé, listen! if that does not make one shudder!" "yes," said she. "i hope our sergeant will not be wounded; i hope he will come back safe!" "may the lord watch over him!" i replied, jumping from my bed, and lighting a candle. i could not control myself. i dressed myself as quickly as if i were going to run away; and afterward i listened to that terrible rolling, which came nearer or died away with every gust of wind. when once dressed, i opened a window, to try to see something. the street was still black; but toward the ramparts, above the dark line of the arsenal bastions, was stretched a line of red. the smoke of powder is red on account of the musket shots which light it up. it looked like a great fire. all the windows in the street were open: nothing could be seen, but i heard our neighbor the armorer say to his wife, "it is growing warm down there! it is the beginning of the dance, annette; but they have not got the big drum yet; that will come, by and by!" the woman did not answer, and i thought, "is it possible to jest about such things! it is against nature." the cold was so severe that after five or six minutes i shut the window. sorlé got up and made a fire in the stove. the whole city was in commotion; men were shouting and dogs barking. sâfel, who had been wakened by all these noises, went to dress himself in the warm room. i looked very tenderly on this poor little one, his eyes still heavy with sleep; and as i thought that we were to be fired upon, that we must hide ourselves in cellars, and all of us be in danger of being killed for matters which did not concern us, and about which nobody had asked our opinion, i was full of indignation. but what distressed me most was to hear zeffen sob and say that it would have been better for her and her children to stay with baruch at saverne and all die together. then the words of the prophet came to me: "is not this thy fear, thy confidence, thy hope, and the uprightness of thy ways? "remember, i pray thee, who ever perished being innocent, or where were the righteous cut off. "no, they that plough iniquity and sow wickedness, reap the same. "by the blast of god they perish, and by the breath of his nostrils are they consumed. "but thee, his servant, he shall redeem from death. "thou shalt come to thy grave in a full age, like as a shock of corn cometh in his season." in this way i strengthened my heart, while i heard the great tumult of the panic-stricken crowd, running and trying to save their property. about seven o'clock it was announced that the casemates were open, and that everybody might take their mattresses there, and that there must be tubs full of water in every house, and the wells left open in case of fire. think, fritz, what ideas these orders suggested. some of our neighbors, lisbeth dubourg, bével ruppert, camus's daughters, and some others, came up to us exclaiming, "we are all lost!" their husbands had gone out, right and left, to see what they could see, and these women hung on zeffen and sorlé's necks, repeating again and again, "oh, dear! oh, dear! what misery!" i could have wished them all to the devil, for instead of comforting us they only increased our fears; but at such times women will get together and cry out all at once; you can't talk reason to them; they like these loud cryings and groanings. just as the clock struck eight, bailly the armorer came to find his wife: he had come from the ramparts. "the russians," he said, "have come down in a mass from quatre-vents to the very gate, filling the whole plain--cossacks, baskirs, and rabble! why don't they fire down upon them from the ramparts? the governor is betraying us." "where are our soldiers?" i asked. "retreating!" exclaimed he. "the wounded came back two hours ago, and our men stay yonder, with folded arms." his bony face shook with rage. he led away his wife; then others came crying out, "the enemy has advanced to the lower part of the gardens, upon the glacis." i was astonished at these things. the women had gone away to cry somewhere else, and just then a great noise of wheels was heard from the direction of the rampart. i looked out of the window, and saw a wagon from the arsenal, some citizen gunners; old goulden, holender, jacob cloutier, and barrier galloped at its sides; captain jovis ran in front. they stopped at our door. "call the iron-merchant!" cried the captain. "tell him to come down." baker chanoine, the brigadier of the second battery, came up. i opened the door. "what do you want of me?" i asked in the stairway. "come down, moses," said chanoine. and i went down. captain jovis, a tall old man, with his face covered with sweat, in spite of the cold, said to me, "you are moses, the iron-merchant?" "yes, sir." "open your storehouse. your iron is required for the defence of the city." so i had to lead all these people into my court, under the shed. the captain on looking round, saw some cast-iron bars, which were used at that time for closing up the backs of fireplaces. they weighed from thirty to forty pounds each, and i sold a good many in the vicinity of the city. there was no lack of old nails, rusty bolts, and old iron of all sorts. "this is what we want," said he. "break up these bars, and take away the old iron, quick!" the others, with the help of our two axes, began at once to break up everything. some of them filled a basket with the pieces of cast-iron, and ran with it to the wagon. the captain looked at his watch, and said, "make haste! we have just ten minutes!" i thought to myself, "they have no need of credit; they take what they please; it is more convenient." all my bars and old iron were broken in pieces--more than fifteen hundred pounds of iron. as they were starting to run to the ramparts, chanoine laughed, and said to me, "capital grape-shot, moses! thou canst get ready thy pennies. we'll come and take them to-morrow." the wagon started through the crowd which ran behind it, and i followed too. as we came nearer the ramparts the firing became more and more frequent. as we turned from the curate's house two sentinels stopped everybody, but they let me pass on account of my iron, which they were going to fire. you can never imagine that mass of people, the noise around the bastion, the smoke which covered it, the orders of the infantry officers whom we heard going up the glacis, the gunners, the lighted match, caissons with the piles of bullets behind! no, in all these thirty years i have not forgotten those men with their levers, running back the cannon to load them to their mouths; those firings in file, at the bottom of the ramparts; those volleys of balls hissing in the air; the orders of the gun-captains, "load! ram! prime!" what crowds upon those gun-carriages, seven feet high, where the gunners were obliged to stand and stretch their arms to fire the cannon! and what a frightful smoke! men invent such machines to destroy each other, and they would think that they did a great deal if they sacrificed a quarter as much to assist their fellow-men, to instruct them in infancy, and to give them a little bread in their old age. ah! those who make an outcry against war, and demand a different state of things, are not in the wrong. i was in the corner, at the left of the bastion, where the stairs go down to the postern behind the college, among three or four willow baskets as high as chimneys, and filled with clay. i ought to have stayed there quietly, and made use of the right moment to get away, but the thought seized me that i would go and see what was going on below the ramparts, and while they were loading the cannon, i climbed to the level of the glacis, and lay down flat between two enormous baskets, where there was scarcely a chance that balls could reach me. if hundreds of others who were killed in the bastions had done as i did, how many of them might be still living, respectable fathers of families in their villages! lying in this place, and raising my nose, i could see over the whole plain. i saw the cordon of the rampart below, and the line of our skirmishers behind the palankas, on the other side of the moat; they did nothing but tear off their cartridges, prime, charge, and fire. there one could appreciate the beauty of drilling; there were only two companies of them, and their firing by file kept up an incessant roll. farther on, directly to the right, stretched the road to quatre-vents. the ozillo farm, the cemetery, the horse-post-station, and george mouton's farm at the right; the inn of la roulette and the great poplar-walk at the left, all were full of cossacks, and such-like rascals, who were galloping into the very gardens, to reconnoitre the environs of the place. this is what i suppose, for it is against nature to run without an object, and to risk being struck by a ball. these people, mounted on small horses, with large gray cloaks, soft boots, fox-skin caps, like those of the baden peasants, long beards, lances in rest, great pistols in their belts, came whirling on like birds. they had not been fired upon as yet, because they kept themselves scattered, so that bullets would have no effect; but their trumpets sounded the rally from la roulette, and they began to collect behind the buildings of the inn. about thirty of our veterans, who had been kept back in the cemetery lane, were making a slow retreat; they made a few paces, at the same time hastily reloading, then turned, shouldered, fired, and began marching again among the hedges and bushes, which there had not been time to cut down in this locality. our sergeant was one of these; i recognized him at once, and trembled for him. every time these veterans gave fire, five or six cossacks came on like the wind, with their lances lowered; but it did not frighten them: they leaned against a tree and levelled their bayonets. other veterans came up, and then some loaded, while others parried the blows. scarcely had they torn open their cartridges when the cossacks fled right and left, their lances in the air. some of them turned for a moment and fired their large pistols behind like regular bandits. at length our men began to march toward the city. those old soldiers, with their great shakos set square on their heads, their large capes hanging to the back of their calves, their sabres and cartridge-boxes on their backs, calm in the midst of these savages, reloading, trimming, and parrying as quietly as if they were smoking their pipes in the guard-house, were something to be admired. at last, after seeing them come out of the whirlwind two or three times, it seemed almost an easy thing to do. our sergeant commanded them. i understood then why he was such a favorite with the officers, and why they always took his part against the citizens: there were not many such. i wanted to call out, "make haste, sergeant; let us make haste!" but neither he nor his men hurried in the least. as they reached the foot of the glacis, suddenly a large mass of cossacks, seeing that they were escaping, galloped up in two files, to cut off their retreat. it was a dangerous moment, and they formed in a square instantly. i felt my back turn cold, as if i had been one of them. our sharpshooters behind the ammunition wagons did not fire, doubtless for fear of hitting their comrades; our gunners on the bastion leaned down to see, and the file of cossacks stretched to the corner near the drawbridge. there were seven or eight hundred of them. we heard them cry, "hurra! hurra! hurra!" like crows. several officers in green cloaks and small caps galloped at the sides of their lines, with raised sabres. i thought our poor sergeant and his thirty men were lost; i thought already, "how sorry little sâfel and sorlé will be!" but then, as the cossacks formed in a half-circle at the left of the outworks, i heard our gun-captain call out, "fire!" i turned my head; old goulden struck the match, the fusee glittered, and at the same instant the bastion with its great baskets of clay shook to the very rocks of the rampart. i looked toward the road; nothing was to be seen but men and horses on the ground. just then came a second shot, and i can truly say that i saw the grape-shot pass like the stroke of a scythe into that mass of cavalry; it all tumbled and fell; those who a second before were living beings were now nothing. we saw some try to raise themselves, the rest made their escape. the firing by file began again, and our gunners, without waiting for the smoke to clear away, reloaded so quickly that the two discharges seemed to come at once. this mass of old nails, bolts, broken bits of cast-iron, flying three hundred metres, almost to the little bridge, made such slaughter that, some days after, the russians asked for an armistice in order to bury their dead. four hundred were found scattered in the ditches of the road. this i saw myself. and if you want to see the place where those savages were buried, you have only to go up the cemetery lane. on the other side, at the right, in m. adam ottendorf's orchard, you will see a stone cross in the middle of the fence; they were all buried there, with their horses, in one great trench. you can imagine the delight of our gunners at seeing this massacre. they lifted up their sponges and shouted, "vive l'empereur!" the soldiers shouted back from the covered ways, and the air was filled with their cries. our sergeant, with his thirty men, their guns on their shoulders, quietly reached the glacis. the barrier was quickly opened for them, but the two companies descended together to the moat and came up again by the postern. i was waiting for them above. when our sergeant came up i took him by the arm, "ah, sergeant!" said i, "how glad i am to see you out of danger!" i wanted to embrace him. he laughed and squeezed my hand. "then you saw the engagement, father moses!" said he, with a mischievous wink. "we have shown them what stuff the fifth is made of!" "oh, yes! yes! you have made me tremble." "bah!" said he, "you will see a good deal more of it; it is a small affair." the two companies re-formed against the wall of the _chemin de ronde_, and the whole city shouted, "vive l'empereur!" they went down the rampart street in the midst of the crowd. i kept near our sergeant. as the detachment was turning our corner, sorlé, zeffen, and sâfel called out from the windows, "hurrah for the veterans! hurrah for the fifth!" the sergeant saw them and made a little sign to them with his head. as i was going in i said to him, "sergeant, don't forget your glass of cherry-brandy." "don't worry, father moses," said he. the detachment went on to break ranks at the place d'armes as usual, and i went up home at a quarter to four. i was scarcely in the room before zeffen, sorlé, and sâfel threw their arms round me as if i had come back from the war; little david clung to my knee, and they all wanted to know the news. i had to tell them about the attack, the grape-shot, the routing of the cossacks. but the table was ready. i had not had my breakfast, and i said, "let us sit down. you shall hear the rest by and by. let me take breath." just then the sergeant entered in fine spirits, and set the butt-end of his musket on the floor. we were going to meet him when we saw a tuft of red hair on the point of his bayonet, that made us tremble. "mercy, what is that?" said zeffen, covering her face. he knew nothing about it, and looked to see, much surprised. "that?" said he, "oh! it is the beard of a cossack that i touched as i passed him--it is not much of anything." he took the musket at once to his own room; but we were all horror-struck, and zeffen could not recover herself. when the sergeant came back she was still sitting in the arm-chair, with both hands before her face. "ah, madame zeffen," said he sadly, "now you are going to detest me!" i thought, too, that zeffen would be afraid of him, but women always like these men who risk their lives at random. i have seen it a hundred times. and zeffen smiled as she answered: "no, sergeant, no; these cossacks ought to stay at home and not come and trouble us! you protect us--we love you very much!" i persuaded him to breakfast with us, and it ended by his opening a window, and calling out to some soldiers passing by to give notice at the cantine that sergeant trubert was not coming to breakfast. so we were all calmed down, and seated ourselves at the table. sorlé went down to get a bottle of good wine, and we began to eat our breakfast. we had coffee, too, and zeffen wanted to pour it out herself for the sergeant. he was delighted. "madame zeffen," said he, "you load me with kindness!" she laughed. we had never been happier. while he was taking his cherry-brandy, the sergeant told us all about the attack in the night; the way in which the wurtemberg troops had stationed themselves at la roulette, how it had been necessary to dislodge them as they were forcing open the two large gates, the arrival of the cossacks at daybreak, and the sending out two companies to fire at them. he told all this so well that we could almost think we saw it. but about eleven o'clock, as i took up the bottle to pour out another glassful, he wiped his mustache, and said, as he rose: "no, father moses, we have something to do besides taking our ease and enjoying ourselves; to-morrow, or next day, the shells will be coming; it is time to go and screen the garret." we all became sober at these words. "let us see!" said he; "i have seen in your court some long logs of wood which have not been sawed, and there are three or four large beams against the wall. are we two strong enough to carry them up? let us try!" he was going to take off his cape at once; but, as the beams were very heavy, i told him to wait and i would run for the two carabins, nicolas, who was called the _greyhound_, and mathis, the wood-sawyer. they came at once, and, being used to heavy work, they carried up the timber. they had brought their saws and axes with them; the sergeant made them saw the beams, so as to cross them above in the form of a sentry-box. he worked himself like a regular carpenter, and sorlé, zeffen, and i looked on. as it took some time, my wife and daughter went down to prepare supper, and i went down with them, to get a lantern for the workmen. i was going up again very quietly, never thinking of danger, when, suddenly, a frightful noise, a kind of terrible rumbling, passed along the roof, and almost made me drop my lantern. the two carabins turned pale and looked at each other. "it is a ball!" said the sergeant. at the same time a loud sound of cannon in the distance was heard in the darkness. i had a terrible feeling in my stomach, and i thought to myself, "since one ball has passed, there may be two, three, four!" my strength was all gone. the two carabins doubtless thought the same, for they took down at once their waistcoats, which were hanging on the gable, to go away. "wait!" said the sergeant. "it is nothing. let us keep at our work--it is going on well. it will be done in an hour more." but the elder carabin called out, "you may do as you please! _i_ am not going to stay here--i have a family!" and while he was speaking, a second ball, more frightful than the first, began to rumble upon the roof, and five or six seconds after we heard the explosion. it was astonishing! the russians were firing from the edge of the bois-de-chênes, more than a half-hour distant, and yet we saw the red flash pass before our two windows, and even under the tiles. the sergeant tried to keep us still at work. "two bullets never pass in the same place," said he. "we are in a safe spot, since that has grazed the roof. come, let us go to work!" it was too much for us. i placed the lantern on the floor and went down, feeling as if my thighs were broken. i wanted to sit down at every step. out of doors they were shouting as if it were morning, and in a more frightful way. chimneys were falling, and women running to the windows; but i paid no attention to it, i was so frightened myself. the two carabins had gone away paler than death. all that night i was ill. sorlé and zeffen were no more at ease than myself. the sergeant kept on alone, placing the logs and making them fast. about midnight he came down. "father moses," said he, "the roof is screened, but your two men are cowards; they left me alone." i thanked him, and told him that we were all sick, and as for myself i had never felt anything like it. he laughed. "i know what that is," said he. "conscripts always feel so when they hear the first ball; but that is soon over--they only need to get a little used to it." then he went to bed, and everybody in the house, except myself, went to sleep. the russians did not fire after ten o'clock that night; they had only tried one or two field-pieces, to warn us of what they had in store. all this, fritz, was but the beginning of the blockade; you are going to hear now of the miseries we endured for three months. xiii a deserter captured the city was joyful the next day, notwithstanding the firing in the night. a number of men who came from the ramparts about seven o'clock, came down our street shouting: "they are gone! there is not a single cossack to be seen in the direction of quatre-vents, nor behind the barracks of the bois-de-chênes! _vive l'empereur_!" everybody ran to the bastions. i had opened one of our windows, and leaned out in my nightcap. it was thawing, the snow was sliding from the roofs, and that in the streets was melting in the mud. sorlé, who was turning up our bed, called to me: "do shut the window, moses! we shall catch cold from the draught!" but i did not listen. i laughed as i thought: "the rascals have had enough of my old bars and rusty nails; they have found out that they fly a good way: experience is a good thing!" i could have stayed there till night to hear the neighbors talk about the clearing away of the russians, and those who came from the ramparts declaring that there was not one to be seen in the whole region. some said that they might come back, but that seemed to me contrary to reason. it was clear that the villains would not quit the country at once, that they would still for a long time pillage the villages, and live on the peasants; but to believe that the officers would excite their men to take our city, or that the soldiers would be foolish enough to obey them, never entered my head. at last zeffen came into our room to dress the children, and i shut the window. a good fire roared in the stove. sorlé made ready our breakfast, while zeffen washed her little esdras in a basin of warm water. "ah, now, if i could only hear from baruch, it would all be well," said she. little david played on the floor with sâfel, and i thanked the lord for having delivered us from the scoundrels. while we were at breakfast, i said to my wife: "it has all gone well! we shall be shut up for a while until the emperor has carried the day, but they will not fire upon us, they will be satisfied with blockading us; and bread, wine, meats, and brandies, will grow dearer. it is the right time for us to sell, or else we might fare like the people of samaria when ben-hadad besieged their city. there was a great famine, so that the head of an ass sold for four-score pieces of silver, and the fourth part of a cab of dove's-dung for five pieces. it was a good price; but still the merchants were holding back, when a noise of chariots and horses and of a great host came from heaven, and made the syrians escape with ben-hadad, and after the people had pillaged their camp, a measure of fine flour sold for only a shekel, and two measures of barley for a shekel. so let us try to sell while things are at a reasonable price; we must begin in good season." sorlé assented, and after breakfast i went down to the cellar to go on with the mixing. many of the mechanics had gone back to their work. klipfel's hammer sounded on his anvil. chanoine put back his rolls into his windows, and tribolin, the druggist, his bottles of red and blue water behind his panes. confidence was restored everywhere. the citizen-gunners had taken off their uniforms, and the joiners had come back to finish our counter; the noise of the saw and plane filled the house. everybody was glad to return to his own business, for war brings nothing but harm; the sooner it is over the better. as i carried my jugs from one tun to another, in the cellar, i saw the passers-by stop before our old shop, and heard them say to each other, "moses is going to make his fortune with the brandy; these rascals of jews always have good scent; while we have been selling this month past, he has been buying. now that we are shut up he can sell at any price he pleases." you can judge whether that was not pleasant to hear! a man's greatest happiness is to succeed in his business; everybody is obliged to say: "this man has neither army, nor generals, nor cannon, he has nothing but his own wit, like everybody else; when he succeeds he owes it to himself, and not to the courage of others. and then he ruins no one; he does not rob, or steal, or kill; while, in war, the strongest crushes the weakest and often the best." so i worked on with great zeal, and would have kept on till night if little sâfel had not come to call me to dinner. i was hungry, and was going upstairs, glad in the thought of sitting down in the midst of my children, when the call-beat began on the place d'armes, before the town-house. during a blockade a court-martial sits continually at the mayoralty to try those who do not answer to the call. some of my neighbors were already leaving their houses with their muskets on their shoulders. i had to go up very hastily, and swallow a little soup, a morsel of meat, and a glass of wine. i was very pale. sorlé, zeffen, and the children said not a word. the drum corps continued the call to arms; it came down the main street and stopped at last before our house, on the little square. then i ran for my cartridge-box and musket. "ah!" said sorlé, "we thought we were going to have a quiet time, and now it is all beginning again." zeffen did not speak, but burst into tears. at that moment the old rabbi heymann came in, with his old martin-skin cap drawn down to the nape of his neck. "for heaven's sake let the women and children hurry to the casemates! an envoy has come threatening to burn the whole city if the gates are not opened. fly, sorlé! zeffen, fly!" imagine the cries of the women on hearing this; as for myself, my hair stood on end. "the rascals have no shame in them!" i exclaimed. "they have no pity on women or children! may the curse of heaven fall on them!" zeffen threw herself into my arms. i did not know what to do. but the old rabbi said: "they are doing to us what our people have done to them! so the words of the lord are fulfilled: 'as thou hast done unto thy brother so shall it be done unto thee!'--but, you must fly quickly." below, the call-beat had ceased; my knees trembled. sorlé, who never lost courage, said to me: "moses, run to the square, make haste, or they will send you to prison!" her judgment was always right; she pushed me by the shoulders, and in spite of zeffen's tears i went down, calling out: "rabbi, i trust in you--save them!" i could not see clearly; i went through the snow, miserable man that i was, running to the townhouse where the national guard was already assembled. i came just in time to answer the call, and you can imagine my trouble, for zeffen, sorlé, sâfel, and the little ones were abandoned before my eyes. what was phalsburg to me? i would have opened the gates in a minute to have had peace. the others did not look any better pleased than myself; they were all thinking of their families. our governor, moulin, lieutenant-colonel brancion, and captains renvoyé, vigneron, grébillet, with their great military caps put on crosswise, these alone felt no anxiety. they would have murdered and burnt everything for the emperor. the governor even laughed, and said that he would surrender the city when the shells set his pocket-handkerchief on fire. judge from this, how much sense such a being had! while they were reviewing us, groups of the aged and infirm, of women and children, passed across the square on their way to the casemates. i saw our little wagon go by with the roll of coverings and mattresses on it. the old rabbi was between the shafts--sâfel pushed behind. sorlé carried david, and zeffen esdras. they were walking in the mud, with their hair loose as if they were escaping from a fire; but they did not speak, and went on silently in the midst of that great trouble. i would have given my life to go and help them--i must stay in the ranks. ah, the old men of my time have seen terrible things! how often have they thought:--"happy is he who lives alone in the world; he suffers only for himself, he does not see those whom he loves weeping and groaning, without the power to help them." immediately after the review, detachments of citizen-gunners were sent to the armories to man the pieces, the firemen were sent to the old market to get out the pumps, and the rest of us, with half a battalion of the sixth light infantry, were sent to the guard-house on the square, to relieve the guards and supply patrols. the two other battalions had already gone to the advance-posts of trois-maisons, of la fontaine-du-chateau,--to the block-houses, the half moons, the ozillo farm, and the maisons-rouges, outside of the city. our post at the mayoralty consisted of thirty-two men; sixteen soldiers of the line below, commanded by lieutenant schnindret, and sixteen of the national guard above, commanded by desplaces jacob. we used burrhus's lodging for our guard-house. it was a large hall with six-inch planks, and beams such as you do not find nowadays in our forests. a large, round, cast-iron stove, standing on a slab four feet square, was in the left-hand corner, near the door; the zigzag pipes went into the chimney at the right, and piles of wood covered the floor. it seems as if i were now in that hall. the melted snow which we shook off on entering ran along the floor. i have never seen a sadder day than that; not only because the bombshells and balls might rain upon us at any moment, and set everything on fire, but because of the melting snow, and the mud, and the dampness which reached your very bones, and the orders of the sergeant, who did nothing but call out: "such and such an one, march! such an one forward, it is your turn!" etc. and then the jests and jokes of this mass of tilers, and cobblers, and plasterers, with their patched blouses, shoes run down at the heel, and caps without visors, seated in a circle around the stove, with, their rags sticking to their backs, _thouing_ you like all the rest of their beggarly race: "moses, pass along the pitcher! moses, give me some fire!--ah, rascals of jews, when a body risks his life to save property, how proud it makes them! ah, the villains!" and they winked at each other, and pushed each other's elbows, and made up faces askance. some of them wanted me to go and get some tobacco for them, and pay for it myself! in fine, all sorts of insults, which a respectable man could endure from the rabble!--yes, it disgusts me whenever i think of it. in this guard-house, where we burned whole logs of wood as if they were straw, the steaming old rags which came in soaking wet did not smell very pleasantly. i had to go out every minute to the little platform behind the hall, in order to breathe, and the cold water which the wind blew from the spout sent me in again at once. afterward, in thinking it over, it has seemed as if, without these troubles, my heart would have broken at the thought of sorlé, zeffen, and the children shut up in a cellar, and that these very annoyances preserved my reason. this lasted till evening. we did nothing but go in and out, sit down, smoke our pipes, and then begin again to walk the pavement in the rain, or remain on duty for hours together at the entrance of the posterns. toward nine o'clock, when all was dark without, and nothing was to be heard but the pacing of the patrols, the shouts of the sentries on the ramparts: "sentries, attention!" and the steps of our men on their rounds up and down the great wooden stairway of the admiralty, the thought suddenly came to me that the russians had only tried to frighten us, that it meant nothing; and that there would be no shells that night. in order to be on good terms with the men, i had asked monborne's permission to go and get a jug full of brandy, which he at once granted. i took advantage of the opportunity to bite a crust and drink a glass of wine at home. then i went back, and all the men at the station were very friendly; they passed the jug from one to another, and said that my brandy was very good, and that the sergeant would give me leave to go and fill it as often as i pleased. "yes, since it is moses," replied monborne, "he may have leave, but nobody else." we were all on excellent terms with each other and nobody thought of bombardment, when a red flash passed along the high windows of the room. we all turned round, and in a few seconds the shell rumbled on the bichelberg hill. at the same time a second, then a third flash passed, one after the other, through the large dark room, showing us the houses opposite. you can never have an idea, fritz, of those first lights at night! corporal winter, an old soldier, who grated tobacco for tribou, stooped down quietly and lighted his pipe, and said: "well, the dance is beginning!" almost instantly we heard a shell burst at the right in the infantry quarters, another at the left in the piplinger house on the square, and another quite near us in the hemmerle house. i can't help trembling as i think of it now after thirty years. all the women were in the casemates, except some old servants who did not want to leave their kitchens; they screamed out: "help! fire!" we were all sure that we were lost; only the old soldiers, crooked on their bench by the stove, with their pipes in their mouths, seemed very calm, as people might who have nothing to lose. what was worst of all, at the moment when our cannon at the arsenal and powder-house began to answer the russians', and made every pane of glass in the old building rattle, sergeant monborne called out: "somme, chevreux, moses, dubourg: forward!" to send fathers of families roaming about through the mud, in danger, at every step, of being struck by bursting shells, tiles, and whole chimneys falling on their backs, is something against nature; the very mention of it makes me perfectly furious. somme and the big innkeeper chevreux turned round, full of indignation also; they wanted to exclaim: "it is abominable!" but that rascal of a monborne was sergeant, and nobody dared speak a word or even give a side-look; and as winter, the corporal of the round, had taken down his musket, and made a signal for us to go on, we all took our arms and followed him. as we went down the stairway, you should have seen the red light, flash after flash, lighting up every nook and corner under the stairs and the worm-eaten rafters; you should have heard our twenty-four pounders thunder; the old rat-hole shook to its foundations, and seemed as if it was all falling to pieces. and under the arch below, toward the place d'armes, this light shone from the snow banks to the tops of the roofs, showing the glittering pavements, the puddles of water, the chimneys, and dormer-windows, and, at the very end of the street, the cavalry barracks, even the sentry in his box near the large gate:--what a sight! "it is all over! we are all lost!" i thought. two shells passed at this moment over the city: they were the first that i had seen; they moved so slowly that i could follow them through the dark sky; both fell in the trenches, behind the hospital. the charge was too heavy, luckily for us. i did not speak, nor did the others--we kept our thoughts to ourselves. we heard the calls "sentries, attention!" answered from one bastion to another all around the place, warning us of the terrible danger we were in. corporal winter, with his old faded blouse, coarse cotton cap, stooping shoulders, musket in shoulder-belt, pipe-end between his teeth, and lantern full of tallow swinging at arm's length, walked before us, calling out: "look out for the shells! lie flat! do you hear?" i have always thought that veterans of this sort despise citizens, and that he said this to frighten us still more. a little farther on, at the entrance of the cul-de-sac where cloutier lived, he halted. "come on!" he called, for we marched in file without seeing each other. when we had come up to him he said, "there, now, you men, try to keep together! our patrol is to prevent fire from breaking out anywhere; as soon as we see a shell pass, moses will run up and snatch the fuse." he burst into a laugh as he spoke, so that my anger was roused. "i have not come here to be laughed at," said i; "if you take me for a fool, i will throw down my musket and cartridge-box, and go to the casemates." he laughed harder than ever. "moses, respect thy superiors, or beware of the court-martial!" said he. the others would have laughed too, but the shell-flashes began again; they went down the rampart street, driving the air before them like gusts of wind; the cannon of the arsenal bastion had just fired. at the same time a shell burst in the street of the capuchins; spick's chimney and half his roof fell to the ground with a frightful noise. "forward! march!" called winter. they had now all become sober. we followed the lantern to the french gate. behind us, in the street of the capuchins, a dog howled incessantly. now and then winter stopped, and we all listened; nothing was stirring, and nothing was to be heard but the dog and the cries: "sentries, attention!" the city was as still as death. we ought to have gone into the guard-house, for there was nothing to be seen; but the lantern went on toward the gate, swinging above the gutter. that winter had taken too much brandy! "we are of no use in this street," said cheyreux; "we can't keep the balls from passing." but winter kept calling out: "are you coming?" and we had to obey. in front of genodet's stables, where the old barns of the gendarmerie begin, a lane turned to the left toward the hospital. this was full of manure and heaps of dirt--a drain in fact. well, this rascal of a winter turned into it, and as we could not see our feet without the lantern, we had to follow him. we went groping, under the roofs of the sheds, along the crazy old walls. it seemed as if we should never get out of this gutter; but at last we came out near the hospital in the midst of the great piles of manure, which were heaped against the grating of the sewer. it seemed a little lighter, and we saw the roof of the french gate, and the line of fortifications black against the sky; and almost immediately i perceived the figure of a man gliding among the trees at the top of the rampart. it was a soldier stooping so that his hands almost touched the ground. they did not fire on this side; the distant flashes passed over the roofs, and did not lighten the streets below. i caught winter's arm, and pointed out to him this man; he instantly hid his lantern under his blouse. the soldier whose back was toward us, stood up, and looked round, apparently listening. this lasted for two or three minutes; then he passed over the rampart at the corner of the bastion, and we heard something scrape the wall of the rampart. winter immediately began to run, crying out: "a deserter! to the postern!" we had heard before this of deserters slipping down into the trenches by means of their bayonets. we all ran. the sentry called out: "who goes there?" "the citizen patrol," replied winter. he advanced, gave the order, and we went down the postern steps like wild beasts. below, at the foot of the large bastions built on the rock, we saw nothing but snow, large black atones, and bushes covered with frost. the deserter needed only to keep still under the bushes; our lantern, which shone only for fifteen or twenty feet, might have wandered about till morning without discovering him: and we should ourselves have supposed that he had escaped. but unfortunately for him, fear urged him on, and we saw him in the distance running to the stairs which lead up to the covered ways. he went like the wind. "halt! or i fire!" cried winter; but he did not stop, and we all ran together on his track, calling out "halt! halt!" winter had given me the lantern so as to run faster; i followed at a distance, thinking to myself: "moses, if this man is taken, thou will be the cause of his death." i wanted to put out the lantern, but if winter had seen me he would have been capable of knocking me down with the butt-end of his musket. he had for a long time been hoping for the cross, and was all the time expecting it and the pension with it. the deserter ran, as i said, to the stairs. suddenly he perceived that the ladder, which takes the place of the eight lower steps, was taken away, and he stopped, stupefied! we came nearer--he heard us and began to run faster, to the right toward the half-moon. the poor devil rolled over the snow-banks. winter aimed at him, and called out: "halt! surrender!" but he got up and began to run again. behind the outworks, under the drawbridge, we thought we had lost him: the corporal called to me, "come along! a thousand thunders!" and at that moment we saw him leaning against the wall, as pale as death. winter took him by the collar and said: "i have got you!" [illustration: winter took him by the collar, and said: "i have you now!"] then he tore an epaulette from his shoulder: "you are not worthy to wear that!" said he; "come along!" he dragged him out of his corner, and held the lantern before his face. we saw a handsome boy of eighteen or nineteen, tall and slender, with small, light mustaches, and blue eyes. seeing him there so pale, with winter's fist at his throat, i thought of the poor boy's father and mother; my heart smote me, and i could not help baying: "come, winter, he is a child, a mere child! he will not do it again!" but winter, who thought that now surely his cross was won, turned upon me furiously: "i tell thee what, jew, stop, or i will run my bayonet through thy body!" "wretch!" thought i, "what will not a man do to make sure of his glass of wine for the rest of his days?" i had a sort of horror of that man; there are wild beasts in the human race! chevreux, somme, and dubourg did not speak. winter began to walk toward the postern, with his hand on the deserter's collar. "if he stops," said he, "strike him on the back with your muskets! ah, scoundrel, you desert in the face of the enemy! your case is clear: next sunday you will sleep under the turf of the half-moon! will you come on? strike him with the butt-end, you cowards!" what pained me most was to hear the poor fellow's heavy sighs; he breathed so hard, from his fright at being taken, and knowing that he would be shot, that we could hear him fifteen paces off; the sweat ran down my forehead. and now and then he turned to me and gave me such a look as i shall never forget, as if to say: "save me!" if i had been alone with dubourg and chevreux, we would have let him go; but winter would sooner have murdered him. we came in this way to the foot of the postern. they made the deserter pass first. when we reached the top, a sergeant, with four men from the next station, was already there, waiting for us. "what is it?" asked the sergeant. "a deserter," said winter. the sergeant--an old man--looked at him, and said: "take him to the station." "no," said winter, "he will go with us to the station on the square." "i will reinforce you with two men," said the sergeant. "we do not need them," replied winter roughly. "we took him ourselves, and we are enough to guard him." the sergeant saw that we ought to have all the glory of it, and he said no more. we started off again, shouldering our arms; the prisoner, all in tatters and without his shako, walked in the midst. we soon came to the little square; we had only to cross the old market before reaching the guard-house. the cannon of the arsenal were firing all the time; as we were starting to leave the market, one of the flashes lighted up the arch in front of us; the prisoner saw the door of the jail at the left, with its great locks, and the sight gave him terrible strength; he tore off his collar, and threw himself from us with both arms stretched out behind. winter had been almost thrown down, but he threw himself at once upon the deserter, exclaiming, "ah, scoundrel, you want to run away!" we saw no more, for the lantern fell to the ground. "guard! guard!" cried chevreux. all this took but a moment, and half of the infantry post were already there under arms. then we saw the prisoner again; he was sitting on the edge of the stairway among the pillars; blood was running from his mouth; not more than half his waistcoat was left, and he was bent forward, trembling from head to foot. winter held him by the nape of the neck, and said to lieutenant schnindret, who was looking on: "a deserter, lieutenant! he has tried to escape twice, but winter was on hand." "that is right," said the lieutenant. "let them find the jailer." two soldiers went away. a number of our comrades of the national guard had come down, but nobody spoke. however hard men may be, when they see a wretch in such a condition, and think, "the day after to-morrow he will be shot!" everybody is silent, and a good many would even release him if they could. after some minutes harmantier arrived with his woollen jacket and his bunch of keys. the lieutenant said to him, "lock up this man!" "come, get up and walk!" he said to the deserter, who rose and followed harmantier, while everybody crowded round. the jailer opened the two massive doors of the prison; the prisoner entered without resistance, and then the large locks and bolts fastened him in. "every man return to his post!" said the lieutenant to us. and we went up the steps of the mayoralty. all this had so upset me that i had not thought of my wife and children. but when once above, in the large warm room, full of smoke, with all that set who were laughing and boasting at having taken a poor, unresisting deserter, the thought that i was the cause of this misery filled my soul with anguish; i stretched myself on the camp-bed, and thought of all the trouble that is in the world, of zeffen, of sâfel, of my children, who might, perhaps, some day be arrested for not liking war. and the words of the lord came to my mind, which he spake to samuel, when the people desired a king: "hearken unto the voice of the people in all that they say unto thee; for they have not rejected thee, but they have rejected me, that i should not reign over them. howbeit yet protest solemnly unto them, and show them the manner of the king that shall reign over them. he will take your sons and appoint them for himself; and some shall run before his chariots. he will set them to make his instruments of war. and he will take your daughters to be cooks and bakers. and he will take your fields and your vineyards, and your olive-yards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants. he will take your men-servants, and your maid-servants, and your goodliest young men. he will take the tenth of your sheep; and ye shall be his servants. and ye shall cry out in that day, and the lord will not hear you." these thoughts made me very wretched; my only consolation was in knowing that my sons frômel and itzig were in america. i resolved to send sâfel, david, and esdras there also, when the time should come. these reveries lasted till daylight. i heard no longer the shouts of laughter or the jokes of the ragamuffins. now and then they would come and shake me, and say, "go, moses, and fill your brandy jug! the sergeant gives you leave." but i did not wish to hear them. about four o'clock in the morning, our arsenal cannon having dismounted the russian howitzers on the quatre-vents hill, the patrols ceased. exactly at seven we were relieved. we went down, one by one, our muskets on our shoulders. we were ranged before the mayoralty, and captain vigneron gave the orders: "carry arms! present arms! shoulder arms! break ranks!" we all dispersed, very glad to get rid of glory. i was going to run at once to the casemates when i had laid aside my musket, to find sorlé, zeffen, and the children; but what was my joy at seeing little sâfel already at our door! as soon as he saw me turn the corner, he ran to me, exclaiming: "we have all come back! we are waiting for you!" i stooped to embrace him. at that moment zeffen opened the window above, and showed me her little esdras, and sorlé stood laughing behind them. i went up quickly, blessing the lord for having delivered us from all our troubles, and exclaiming inwardly: "the lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and plenteous in mercy. let the glory of the lord endure forever! let the lord rejoice in his works!" xiv burguet's visit to the deserter i still think it one of the happiest moments of my life, fritz. scarcely had i come up the stairs when zeffen and sorlé were in my arms; the little ones clung to my shoulders, and i felt their lovely full lips on my cheeks; sâfel held my hand, and i could not speak a word, but my eyes filled with tears. ah! if we had had baruch with us, how happy we should have been! at length i went to lay aside my musket, and hang my cartridge-box in the alcove. the children were laughing, and joy was in the house once more. and when i came back in my old beaver cap, and my large, warm woollen stockings, and sat down in the old arm-chair, in front of the little table set with porringers, in which zeffen was pouring the soup; when i was again in the midst of all these happy faces, bright eyes, and outstretched hands, i could have sung like an old lark on his branch, over the nest where his little ones were opening their beaks and flapping their wings. i blessed them in my heart a hundred times over. sorlé, who saw in my eyes what i was thinking, said: "they are all together, moses, just as they were yesterday; the lord has preserved them." "yes, blessed be the name of the lord, forever and ever!" i replied. while we were at breakfast, zeffen told me about their going to the large casemate at the barracks, how it was full of people stretched on their mattresses in every direction--the cries of some, the fright of others, the torment from the vermin, the water dropping from the arch, the crowds of children who could not sleep, and did nothing but cry, the lamentations of five or six old men who kept calling out, "ah! our last hour has come! ah! how cold it is! ah! we shall never go home--it is all over!" then suddenly the deep silence of all, when they heard the cannon about ten o'clock--the reports, coming slowly at first, then like the roar of a tempest--the flashes, which could be seen even through the blindages of the gate, and old christine evig telling her beads as loud as if she were in a procession, and the other women responding together. as she told me this, zeffen clasped her little esdras tightly, while i held david on my knees, embracing him as i thought to myself, "yes, my poor children, you have been through a great deal!" notwithstanding the joy of seeing that we were all safe, the thought of the deserter in his dungeon at the town-house would come to me; he too had parents! and when you think of all the trouble which a father and mother have in bringing up a child, of the nights spent in soothing his cries, of their cares when he is sick, of their hopes in seeing him growing up; and then imagine to yourself some old soldiers sitting around a table to try him, and coolly send him to be shot behind the bastion, it makes you shudder, especially when you say to yourself: "but for me, this boy would have been at liberty; he would be on the road to his village; to-morrow perhaps he would have reached the poor old people's door, and have called out to them, 'open! it is i!'" such thoughts are enough to make one wild. i did not dare to speak to my wife and children of the poor fellow's arrest; i kept my thoughts to myself. without, the detachments from la roulette, trois-maisons, and la fontaine-du-chateau, passed through the street, keeping step; groups of children ran about the city to find the pieces of shells; neighbors collected to talk about the events of the night--the roofs torn off, chimneys thrown down, the frights they had had. we heard their voices rising and falling, and their shouts of laughter. and i have since seen that it is always the same thing after a bombardment; the shower is forgotten as soon as it is over, and they exclaim: "huzza! the enemy is routed!" while we were there meditating, some one came up the stairs. we listened, and our sergeant, with his musket on his shoulder, and his cape and gaiters covered with mud, opened the door, exclaiming: "good for you, father moses! good for you!--you distinguished yourself last night!" "ha! what is it, sergeant?" asked my wife in astonishment. "what! has he not told you of the famous thing he did, madame sorlé? has he not told you that the national guard moses, on patrol about nine o'clock at the hospital bastion, discovered and then arrested a deserter in the very act! it is on lieutenant schnindret's affidavit!" "but i was not alone," i exclaimed in despair; "there were four of us." "bah! you discovered the track, you went down into the trenches, you carried the lantern! father moses, you must not try to make your good deed seem less; you are wrong. you are going to be named for corporal. the court-martial will sit to-morrow at nine. be easy, they will take care of your man!" imagine, fritz, how i looked; sorlé, zeffen, and the children looked at me, and i did not know what to say. "now i must go and change my clothes," said the sergeant, shaking my hand. "we will talk about it again, father moses. i always said that you would turn out well in the end." he gave a low laugh as was his custom, winking his eyes, and then went across the passage into his room. my wife was very pale. "is it true, moses?" she asked after a minute. "he! i did not know that he wanted to desert, sorlé," i replied. "and then the boy ought to have looked round on all sides; he ought to have gone down on the hospital square, gone round the dunghills, and even into the lane to see if any one was coming; he brought it on himself; i did not know anything, i----" but sorlé did not let me finish. "run quickly, moses, to burguet's!" she exclaimed; "if this man is shot, his blood will be upon our children. make haste, do not lose a minute." she raised her hands, and i went out, much troubled. my only fear was that i should not find burguet at home; fortunately, on opening his door, on the first floor of the old cauchois house, i saw the tall barber vésenaire shaving him, in the midst of the old books and papers which filled the room. burguet was sitting with the towel at his chin. "ah! it is you, moses!" he exclaimed, in a glad tone. "what gives me the pleasure of a visit from you?" "i come to ask a favor of you, burguet." "if it is for money," said he, "we shall have difficulty." he laughed, and his servant-woman, marie loriot, who heard us from the kitchen, opened the door, and thrust her red head-gear into the room, as she called out, "i think that we shall have difficulty! we owe vésenaire for three months' shaving; do not we, vésenaire?" she said this very seriously, and burguet, instead of being angry, began to laugh. i have always fancied that a man of his talents had a sort of need of such an incarnation of human stupidity to laugh at, and help his digestion. he never was willing to dismiss this marie loriot. in short, while vésenaire kept on shaving him, i gave him an account of our patrol and the arrest of the deserter; and begged him to defend the poor fellow. i told him that he alone was able to save him, and restore peace, not only to my own mind, but to sorlé, zeffen, and the whole family, for we were all in great distress, and we depended entirely upon him to help us. "ah! you take me at my weak point, moses! if it is possible for me to save this man, i must try. but it will not be an easy matter. during the last fortnight, desertions have begun--the court-martial wishes to make an example. it is a bad business. you have money, moses; give vésenaire four sous to go and take a drop." i gave four sous to vésenaire, who made a grand bow and went out. burguet finished dressing himself. "let us go and see!" said he, taking me by the arm. and we went down together on our way to the mayoralty. many years have passed since that day. ah, well! it seems now as if we were going under the arch, and i heard burguet saying: "hey, sergeant! tell the turnkey that the prisoner's advocate is here." harmantier came, bowed, and opened the door. we went down into the dungeon full of stench, and saw in the right-hand corner a figure gathered in a heap on the straw. "get up!" said harmantier, "here is your advocate." the poor wretch moved and raised himself in the darkness. burguet leaned toward him and said: "come! take courage! i have come to talk with you about your defence." and the other began to sob. when a man has been knocked down, torn to tatters, beaten till he cannot stand, when he knows that the law is against him, that he must die without seeing those whom he loves, he becomes as weak as a baby. those who maltreat their prisoners are great villains. "let us see!" said burguet. "sit down on the side of your camp-bed. what is your name? where did you come from? harmantier, give this man a little water to drink and wash himself!" "he has some, m. burguet; he has some in the corner." "ah, well!" "compose yourself, my boy!" the more gently he spoke, the more did the poor fellow weep. at last, however, he said that his family lived near gérarmer, in the vosges; that his father's name was mathieu belin, and that he was a fisherman at retournemer. burguet drew every word out of his mouth; he wanted to know every particular about his father and mother, his brothers and sisters. i remember that his father had served under the republic, and had even been wounded at fleurus; that his oldest brother had died in russia; that he himself was the second son taken from home by the conscription, and that there was still at home three sisters younger than himself. this came from him slowly; he was so prostrated by winter's blows, that he moved and sank down like a soulless body. there was still another thing, fritz, as you may think--the boy was young! and that brought to my mind the days when i used to go in two hours from phalsburg to marmoutier, to see sorlé--ah, poor wretch! as he told all this, sobbing, with his face in his hands, my heart melted within me. burguet was quite overcome. when we were leaving, at the end of an hour, he said, "come, let us be hopeful! you will be tried to-morrow.--don't despair! harmantier, we must give this man a cloak; it is dreadfully cold, especially at night. it is a bad business, my boy, but it is not hopeless. try to appear as well as you can before the audience; the court-martial always thinks better of a man who is well dressed." when we were out, he said to me: "moses, you send the man a clean shirt. his waistcoat is torn; don't forget to have him decently dressed every way; soldiers always judge of a man by his appearance." "be easy about that," said i. the prison doors were closed, and we went across the market. "now," said burguet, "i must go in. i must think it over. it is well that the brother was left in russia, and that the father has been in the service--it is something to make a point of." we had reached the corner of the rampart street; he kept on, and i went home more miserable than before. you cannot imagine, fritz, how troubled i was; when a man has always had a quiet conscience it is terrible to reproach one's self, and think: "if this man is shot, if his father, and mother, and sisters, and that other one, who is expecting him, are made miserable, thou, moses, wilt be the cause of it all!" fortunately there was no lack of work to be done at home; sorlé had just opened the old shop to begin to sell our brandies, and it was full of people. for a week the keepers of coffee-houses and inns had had nothing wherewith to fill their casks; they were on the point of shutting up shop. imagine the crowd! they came in a row, with their jugs and little casks and pitchers. the old topers came too, sticking out their elbows; sorlé, zeffen, and sâfel had not time to serve them. the sergeant said that we must put a policeman at our door to prevent quarrels, for some of them said that they lost their turn, and that their money was as good as anybody's. it will be a good many years before such a crowd will be seen again in front of a phalsburg shop. i had only time to tell my wife that burguet would defend the deserter, and then went down into the cellar to fill the two tuns at the counter, which were already empty. a fortnight after, sorlé doubled the price; our first two pipes were sold, and this extra price did not lessen the demand. men always find money for brandy and tobacco, even when they have none left for bread. this is why governments impose their heaviest taxes upon these two articles; they might be heavier still without diminishing their use--only, children would starve to death. i have seen this--i have seen this great folly in men, and i am astonished whenever i think of it. that day we kept on selling until seven o'clock in the evening, when the tattoo was sounded. my pleasure in making money had made me forget the deserter; i did not think of him again till after supper, when night set in; but i did not say a word about him; we were all so tired and so delighted with the day's profits that we did not want to be troubled with thinking of such things. but after zeffen and the children had retired, i told sorlé of our visit to the prisoner. i told her, too, that burguet had hopes, which made her very happy. about nine o'clock, by god's blessing, we were all asleep. xv trial of the deserter you can believe, fritz, that i did not sleep much that night, notwithstanding my fatigue. the thought of the deserter tormented me. i knew that if he should be shot, zeffen and sorlé would be inconsolable; and i knew, too, that after three or four years the vile race would say: "look at this moses, with his large brown cloak, his cape turned down over the back of his neck, and his respectable look--well, during the blockade he caused the arrest of a poor deserter, who was shot: so much you can trust a jew's appearance!" they would have said this, undoubtedly; for the only consolation of villains is to make people think that everybody is like themselves. and then how often should i reproach myself for this man's death, in times of misfortune or in my old age, when i should not have a minute's peace! how often should i have said that it was a judgment of the lord, that it was on account of this deserter. so i wanted to do immediately all that i could, and by six o'clock in the morning i was in my old shop in the market with my lantern, selecting epaulettes and my best clothes. i put them in a napkin and took them to harmantier at daybreak. the special council of war, which was called--i do not know why--the _ventose_ council, was to meet at nine o'clock. it was composed of a major, president, four captains, and two lieutenants. monbrun, the captain of the foreign legion, was judge-advocate, and brigadier duphot recorder. it was astonishing how the whole city knew about it beforehand, and that by seven o'clock the nicaises, and pigots, and vinatiers, etc., had left their rickety quarters, and had already filled the whole mayoralty, the arch, the stairway, and the large room above, laughing, whistling, stamping, as if it were a bear-fight at klein's inn, the "ox." you do not see things like that nowadays, thank god! men have become more gentle and humane. but after all these wars, a deserter met with less pity than a fox caught in a trap, or a wolf led by the muzzle. as i saw all this, my courage failed; all my admiration for burguet's talents could not keep me from thinking: the man is lost! who can save him, when this crowd has come on purpose to see him condemned to death, and led to the glacière bastion? i was overwhelmed by the thought. i went trembling into harmantier's little room, and said to him: "this is for the deserter; take it to him from me." "all right!" said he. i asked him if he had confidence in burguet. he shrugged his shoulders, and said: "we must have examples." the stamping outside continued, and when i went out there was a great whistling in the balcony, the arch, and everywhere, and shouts of "moses! hey, moses! this way!" but i did not turn my head, and went home very sad. sorlé handed me a summons to appear as a witness before the court-martial, which a gendarme had just brought; and till nine o'clock i sat meditating behind the stove, trying to think of some way of escape for the prisoner. sâfel was playing with the children; zeffen and sorlé had gone down to continue our sales. a few minutes before nine i started for the townhouse, which was already so crowded that, had it not been for the guard at the door, and the gendarmes scattered within the building, the witnesses could hardly have got in. just as i got there, captain monbrun was beginning to read his report. burguet sat opposite, with his head leaning on his hand. they showed me into a little room, where were winter, chevreux, dubourg, and the gendarme fiegel; so that we didn't hear anything before being called. on the wall at the right it was written in large letters that any witness who did not tell the truth, should be delivered to the council, and suffer the same penalty as the accused. this made one consider, and i resolved at once to conceal nothing, as was right and sensible. the gendarme also informed us that we were forbidden to speak to each other. after a quarter of an hour winter was summoned, and then, at intervals of ten minutes, chevreux, dubourg, and myself. when i went into the court-room, the judges were all in their places; the major had laid his hat on the desk before him; the recorder was mending his pen. burguet looked at me calmly. without they were stamping, and the major said to the brigadier: "inform the public that if this noise continues, i shall have the mayoralty cleared." the brigadier went out at once, and the major said to me: "national guard moses, make your deposition. what do you know?" i told it all simply. the deserter at the left, between two gendarmes, seemed more dead than alive. i would gladly have acquitted him of everything; but when a man fears for himself, when old officers in full dress are scowling at you as if they could see through you, the simplest and best way is not to lie. a father's first thought should be for his children! in short, i told everything that i had seen, nothing more or less, and at last the major said to me: "that is enough; you may go." but seeing that the others, winter, chevreux, dubourg, remained sitting on a bench at the left, i did the same. almost immediately five or six good-for-nothings began to stamp and murmur, "shoot him! shoot him!" the president ordered the brigadier to arrest them, and in spite of their resistance they were all led to prison. silence was then established in the court-room, but the stampings without continued. "judge-advocate, it is your turn to speak," said the major. this judge-advocate, who seems now before my eyes, and whom i can almost hear speak, was a man of fifty, short and thick, with a short neck, long, thick, straight nose, very wide forehead, shining black hair, thin mustaches, and bright eyes. while he was listening, his head turned right and left as if on a pivot; you could see his long nose and the corner of his eye, but his elbows did not stir from the table. he looked like one of those large crows which seem to be sleeping in the fields at the close of autumn, and yet see everything that is going on around them. now and then he raised his arm as if to draw back his sleeve, as advocates have a way of doing. he was in full dress, and spoke terribly well, in a clear and strong voice, stopping and looking at the people to see if they agreed with him; and if he saw even a slight grimace, he began again at once in some other way, and, as it were, obliged you to understand in spite of yourself. as he went on very slowly, without hurrying or forgetting anything, to show that the deserter was on the road when we arrested him, that he not only had the intention of escaping, but was already outside of the city, quite as guilty as if he had been found in the ranks of the enemy--as he clearly showed all this, i was angry because he was right, and i thought to myself, "now, what was there to be said in reply." and then, when he said that the greatest of crimes was to abandon one's flag, because one betrays at once his country, his family, all that has a right to his life, and makes himself unworthy to live; when he said that the court would follow the conscience of all who had a heart, of all who held to the honor of france; that he would give a new example of his zeal for the safety of the country and the glory of the emperor; that he would show the new recruits that they could only succeed by doing their duty and by obeying orders; when he said all this with terrible power and clearness, and i heard from time to time, a murmur of assent and admiration, then, fritz, i thought that the lord alone was able to save that man! the deserter sat motionless, his arms folded on the dock, and his face upon them. he felt, doubtless, as i did, and every one in the room, and the court itself. those old men seemed pleased as they heard the judge-advocate express so well what had all along been their own opinion. their faces showed their satisfaction. this lasted for more than an hour. the captain sometimes stopped a moment to give his audience time to reflect on what he had said. i have always thought that he must have been attorney-general, or something more dangerous still to deserters. i remember that he said, in closing, "you will make an example! you will be of one mind. you will not forget that, at this time, firmness in the court is more necessary than ever to the safety of the country." when he sat down, such a murmur of approbation arose in the room that it reached the stairway at once, and we heard the shouts outside, "_vive l'empereur_!" the major and the other members of the council looked smilingly at each other, as if to say, "it is all settled. what remains is a mere formality!" the shouts without increased. this lasted more than ten minutes. at last the major said: "brigadier, if the tumult continues, clear the town-house! begin with the court-room!" there was silence at once, for every one was curious to know what burguet would say in reply. i would not have given two farthings for the life of the deserter. "counsel for the prisoner, you have the floor!" said the major, and burguet rose. now, fritz, if i had an idea that i could repeat to you what burguet said, for a whole hour, to save the life of a poor conscript; if i should try to depict his face, the sweetness of his voice, and then his heart-rending cries, and then his silent pauses and his appeals--if i had such an idea, i should consider myself a being full of pride and vanity! no; nothing finer was ever heard. it was not a man speaking; it was a mother, trying to snatch her babe from death! ah! what a great thing it is to have this power of moving to tears those who hear us! but we ought not to call it talent, it is heart. "who is there without faults? who does not need pity?" this is what he said, as he asked the council if they could find a perfectly blameless man; if evil thoughts never came to the bravest; if they had never, for even a day or a moment, had the thought of running away to their native village, when they were young, when they were eighteen, when father and mother and the friends of their childhood were living, and they had not another in the world. a poor child without instruction, without knowledge of the world, brought up at hap-hazard, thrown into the army--what could you expect of him? what fault of his could not be pardoned? what does he know of country, the honor of his flag, the glory of his majesty? is it not later in life that these great ideas come to him? and then he asked those old men if they had not a son, if they were sure that, even at that moment, that son were not committing an offence which was liable to the punishment of death. he said to them: "plead for him! what would you say? you would say, 'i am an old soldier. for thirty years i have shed my blood for france. i have grown gray upon the battle-fields, i am riddled with wounds, i have gained every rank at the point of the sword. ah, well! take my epaulettes, take my decorations, take everything; but save my child! let my blood be the ransom for his offence! he does not know the greatness of his crime; he is too young; he is a conscript; he loved us; he longed to embrace us, and then go back again--he loved a maiden. ah! you, too, have been young! pardon him. do not disgrace an old soldier in his son.' "perhaps you could say, too, 'i had other sons. they died for their country. let their blood answer for his, and give me back this one--the last that i have left!' "this is what you would say, and far better than i, because you would be the father, the old soldier speaking of his own services! well, the father of this youth could speak like you! he is an old soldier of the republic! he went with you, perhaps, when the prussians entered champagne! he was wounded at fleurus! he is an old comrade in arms! his oldest son was left behind in russia!" and burguet turned pale as he spoke. it seemed as if grief had robbed him of his strength, and he were about to fall. the silence was so great that we heard the breathing throughout the court-room. the deserter sobbed. everybody thought, "it is done! burguet need say no more! it must be that he has gained his cause!" but all at once he began again in another and more tender manner. speaking slowly, he described the life of a poor peasant and his wife, who had but one comfort, one solitary hope on earth--their child! as we listened we saw these poor people, we heard them talk together, we saw over the door the old chapeau of the time of the republic. and when we were thinking only of this, suddenly burguet showed us the old man and his wife learning that their son had been killed, not by russians or germans, but by frenchmen. we heard the old man's cry! but it was terrible, fritz! i wanted to run away. the officers of the council, several of whom were married men, looked before them with fixed eyes, and clinched hands; their gray mustaches shook. the major had raised his hand two or three times, as if to signify that it was enough, but burguet had always something still more powerful, more just, more grand to add. his plea lasted till nearly eleven, when he sat down. there was not a murmur to be heard in the three rooms nor outside. and the judge-advocate on the other side began again, saying that all that signified nothing, that it was unfortunate for the father that his son was unworthy, that every man clung to his children, that soldiers must be taught not to desert in face of the enemy; that, if the court yielded to such arguments, nobody would ever be shot, discipline would be utterly destroyed, the army could not exist, and that the army was the strength and glory of the country. burguet replied almost immediately. i cannot recall what he said; my head could not hold so many things at once: but i shall never forget this, that about one o'clock, the council having sent us away that they might deliberate--the prisoner meanwhile having been taken back to his cell--after a few minutes we were allowed to return, and the major, standing on the platform where conscriptions were drawn, declared that the accused jean balin was acquitted, and gave the order for his immediate release. it was the first acquittal since the departure of the spanish prisoners before the blockade; the rowdies, who had come in crowds to see a man condemned and shot, could not believe it; several of them exclaimed: "we are cheated!" but the major ordered brigadier descarmes to take the names of these brawlers, so that they should be seen to; then the whole mass trampled down the stairs in five minutes, and we, in our turn, were able to descend. i had taken burguet by the arm, my eyes full of tears. "are you satisfied, moses?" said he, already quite his own joyous self again. "burguet!" said i, "aaron himself, the own brother of moses, and the greatest orator of israel, could not have spoken better than you did; it was admirable! i owe my peace of mind to you! whatever you may ask for so great a service i am ready to give to the extent of my means." we went down the stairs; the members of the council following us thoughtfully, one by one. burguet smiled. "do you mean it, moses?" said he, stopping under the arch. "yes, here is my hand." "very well!" said he, "i ask you to give me a good dinner at the _ville-de-metz_." "with all my heart!" several citizens, father parmentier, cochois the tax-gatherer, and adjutant muller, were waiting for burguet at the foot of the mayoralty steps, to congratulate him. as they were surrounding and shaking hands with him, sâfel came and rushed into my arms; zeffen had sent him to learn the news. i embraced him, and said joyously: "go, tell your mother that we have won! take your dinner. i am going to dine at the _ville-de-metz_ with burguet. make haste, my child!" he started running. "you dine with me, burguet," said father parmentier. "thank you, mr. mayor, i am engaged to dine with moses; i will go at another time." and, with our arms around each other, we entered mother barrière's large corridor, where there was still the odor of good roasts, in spite of the blockade. "listen, burguet," said i; "we are going to dine alone, and you shall choose whatever wines and dishes you like best; you know them better than i do." i saw his eyes sparkle. "good! good!" said he, "it is understood." in the large dining-hall the war-commissioner and two officers were dining together; they turned round, and we saluted them. i sent for mother barrière, who came at once, her apron on her arm, as smiling and chubby as usual. burguet whispered a couple of words in her ear, and she instantly opened the door at the right, and said: "walk in, gentlemen, walk in! you will not have to wait long." we went into the square room at the corner of the square, a small, high room, with two large windows covered with muslin curtains, and the porcelain stove well heated, as it should be in winter. a servant came to lay the table, while we warmed our hands upon the marble. "i have a good appetite, moses; my pleading is going to cost you dear," said burguet, laughing. "so much the better; it cannot be too dear for the gratitude i owe you." "come," said he, putting his hand on my shoulder, "i won't ruin you, but we must have a good dinner." when the table was ready, we sat down, opposite each other, in soft, comfortable arm-chairs; and burguet, fastening his napkin in his button-hole, as was his custom, took up the bill of fare. he pondered over it a long time; for you know, fritz, that though nightingales are good singers, they have the sharpest beaks in the world. burguet was like them, and i was delighted at seeing him thus meditating. at last he said to the servant, slowly and solemnly: "this and that, madeleine, cooked so and so. and such a wine to begin with, and such another at the end." "very well, m. burguet," replied madeleine, as she went out. two minutes afterward she brought us a good toast soup. during a blockade this was something greatly to be desired; three weeks later we should have been very fortunate to have got one. then she brought us some bordeaux wine, warmed in a napkin. but you do not suppose, fritz, that i am going to tell you all the details of this dinner? although i remember it all, with great pleasure, to this day. believe me, there was nothing wanting, meats nor fresh vegetables, nor the large well-smoked ham, nor any of the things which are dreadfully scarce in a shut-up city. we had even salad! madame barrière had kept it in the cellar, in earth, and burguet wished to dress it himself with olive oil. we had, too, the last juicy pears which were seen in phalsburg, during that winter of . burguet seemed happy, especially when the bottle of old lironcourt was brought, and we drank together. "moses," said he with softened eyes, "if all my pleas had as good pay as you give, i would resign my place in college; but this is the first fee i have received." "and if i were in your place, burguet," i exclaimed, "instead of staying in phalsburg, i would go to a large city. you would have plenty of good dinners, good hotels, and the rest would soon follow." "ah! twenty years ago this might have been good advice," said he, rising, "but it is too late now. let us go and take our coffee, moses." thus it is that men of great talents often bury themselves in small places, where nobody values them at their true worth; they fall gradually into their own ruts, and disappear without notice. burguet never forgot to go to the coffee-house at about five o'clock, to play a game of cards with the old jew solomon, whose trade it was. burguet and five or six citizens fully supported this man, who took his beer and coffee twice a day at their expense, to say nothing of the crowns he pocketed for the support of his family. so far as the others were concerned, i was not surprised at this, for they were fools! but for a man like burguet i was always astonished at it; for, out of twenty deals, solomon did not let them win more than one or two, with the risk before his eyes of losing his best practice, by discouraging them altogether. i had explained this fifty times to burguet; he assented, and kept on all the same. when we reached the coffee-house, solomon was already there, in the corner of a window at the left--his little dirty cap on his nose, and his old greasy frock hanging at the foot of the stool. he was shuffling the cards all by himself. he looked at burguet out of the corner of his eye, as a bird-catcher looks at larks, as if to say: "come! i am here! i am expecting you!" but burguet, when with me, dared not obey the old man; he was ashamed of his weakness, and merely made a little motion of his head while he seated himself at the opposite table, where coffee was served to us. the comrades came soon, and solomon began to fleece them. burguet turned his back to them; i tried to divert his attention, but his heart was with them; he listened to all the throws, and yawned in his hand. about seven o'clock, when the room was full of smoke, and the balls were rolling on the billiard tables, suddenly a young man, a soldier, entered, looking round in all directions. it was the deserter. he saw us at last, and approached us with his foraging cap in his hand. burguet looked up and recognized him; i saw him turn red; the deserter, on the contrary, was very pale; he tried to speak, but could not say a word. "ah! my friend!" said burguet, "here you are, safe!" "yes, sir," replied the conscript, "and i have come to thank you for myself, for my father, and for my mother!" "ah!" said burguet, coughing, "it is all right! it is all right!" he looked tenderly at the young man, and asked him softly, "you are glad to live?" "oh! yes, sir," replied the conscript, "very glad." "yes," said burguet, in a low voice, looking at the clock; "it would have been all over now! poor child!" and suddenly beginning to use the _thou_ he said, "thou hast had nothing with which to drink my health, and i have not another sou. moses, give him a hundred sous." i gave him ten francs. the deserter tried to thank me. "that is good!" said burguet, rising. "go and take a drink with thy comrades. be happy, and do not desert again." he made as if he would follow solomon's playing; but when the deserter said, "i thank you, too, for her who is expecting me!" he looked at me sideways, not knowing what to answer, so much was he moved. then i said to the conscript, "we are very glad that we have been of assistance to you; go and drink the health of your advocate, and behave yourself well." he looked at us for a moment longer, as if he were unable to move; we saw his thanks in his face, a thousand times better than he had been able to utter them. at length he slowly went out, saluting us, and burguet finished his cup of coffee. we meditated for some minutes upon what had passed. but soon the thought of seeing my family seized me. burguet was like a soul in purgatory. every minute he got up to look on, as one or another played, with his hands crossed behind his back; then he sat down with a melancholy look. i should have been very sorry to plague him longer, and, as the clock struck eight, i bade him good-evening, which evidently pleased him. "good-night, moses," said he, leading me to the door. "my compliments to madame sorlé, and madame zeffen." "thank you! i shall not forget it." i went, very glad to return home, where i arrived in a few minutes. sorlé saw at once that i was in good spirits, for, meeting her at the door of our little kitchen, i embraced her joyfully. "it is all right, sorlé," said i, "all just right!" "yes," said she, "i see that it is all right!" she laughed, and we went into the room where zeffen was undressing david. the poor little fellow, in his shirt, came and offered me his cheek to kiss. whenever i dined in the city, i used to bring him some of the dessert, and, in spite of his sleepy eyes, he soon found his way to my pockets. you see, fritz, what makes grandfathers happy is to find out how bright and sensible their grandchildren are. even little esdras, whom sorlé was rocking, understood at once that something unusual was going on; he stretched out his little hands to me, as if to say, "i like cake too!" we were all of us very happy. at length, having sat down, i gave them an account of the day, setting forth the eloquence of burguet, and the poor deserter's happiness. they all listened attentively. sâfel, seated on my knees, whispered to me, "we have sold three hundred francs' worth of brandy!" this news pleased me greatly: when one makes an outlay, he ought to profit by it. about ten o'clock, after zeffen had wished us good-night, i went down and shut the door, and put the key underneath for the sergeant, if he should come in late. while we were going to bed, sorlé repeated what sâfel had said, adding that we should be in easy circumstances when the blockade was over, and that the lord had helped us in the midst of great calamities. we were happy and without fear of the future. xvi a sortie of the garrison nothing extraordinary occurred for several days. the governor had the plants and bushes growing in the crevices of the ramparts torn away, to make desertion less easy, and he forbade the officers being too rough with the men, which had a good effect. at this time, hundreds of thousands of austrians, russians, bavarians, and wurtemburgers, by squadrons and regiments, passed around the city beyond range of our cannon, and marched upon paris. then there were terrible battles in champagne, but we knew nothing of them. the uniforms changed every day outside the city; our old soldiers on top of the ramparts recognized all the different nations they had been fighting for twenty years. our sergeant came regularly after the call, to take me upon the arsenal bastion; citizens were there all the time, talking about the invasion, which did not come to an end. it was wonderful! in the direction of st. jean, on the edge of the forest of la bonne-fontaine, we saw, for hours at a time, cavalry and infantry defiling, and then convoys of powder and balls, and then cannon, and then files of bayonets, helmets, red and green and blue coats, lances, peasants' wagons covered with cloth--all these passed, passed like a river. on this broad white plateau, surrounded by forests, we could see everything. now and then some cossacks or dragoons would leave the main body, and push on galloping to the very foot of the glacis, in the lane _des dames_, or near the little chapel. instantly one of our old marine artillerymen would stretch out his gray mustaches upon a rampart gun, and slowly take aim; the bystanders would all gather round him, even the children, who would creep between your legs, fearless of balls or shells--and the heavy rifle-gun would go off! many a time i have seen the cossack or uhlan fall from his saddle, and the horse rush back to the squadron with his bridle on his neck. the people would shout with joy; they would climb up on the ramparts and look down, and the gunner would rub his hands and say, "one more out of the way!" at other times these old men, with their ragged cloaks full of holes, would bet a couple of sous as to who should bring down this sentinel or that vidette, on the mittelbronn or bichelberg hill. it was so far that they needed good eyes to see the one they designated; but these men, accustomed to the sea, can discern everything as far as the eye can reach. "come, paradis, there he is!" one would say. "yes, there he is! lay down your two sous; there are mine!" and they would fire. they would go on as if it were a game of ninepins. god knows how many men they killed for the sake of their two sous. every morning about nine o'clock i found these marines in my shop, drinking "to the cossack," as they said. the last drop they poured into their hands, to strengthen their nerves, and started off with rounded backs, calling out: "hey! good-day, father moses! the kaiserlich is very well!" i do not think that i ever saw so many people in my life as in those months of january and february, ; they were like the locusts of egypt! how the earth could produce so many people i could not comprehend. i was naturally greatly troubled on account of it, and the other citizens also, as i need not say; but our sergeant laughed and winked. "look, father moses!" said he, pointing from quatre-vents to bichelberg--"all these that are passing by, all that have passed, and all that are going to pass, are to enrich the soil of champagne and lorraine! the emperor is down there, waiting for them in a good place--he will fall upon them! the thunder-bolt of austerlitz, of jena, of wagram, is all ready--it can wait no longer! then they will file back in retreat; but our armies will follow them, with our bayonets in their backs, and we shall go out from here, and flank them off. not one shall escape. their account is settled. and then will be the time for you to have old clothes and other things to sell, father moses! he! he! he! how fat you will grow!" he was merry at the thought of it; but you may suppose, fritz, that i did not count much upon those uniforms that were running across the fields; i would much rather they had been a thousand leagues away. such are men--some are glad and others miserable from the same cause. the sergeant was so confident that sometimes he persuaded me, and i thought as he did. we would go down the rampart street together, he would go to the cantine where they had begun to distribute siege-rations, or perhaps he would go home with me, take his little glass of cherry-brandy, and explain to me the emperor's grand strokes since ' in italy. i did not understand anything about it, but i made believe that i understood, which answered all the purpose. there came envoys, too, sometimes on the road from nancy, sometimes from saverne or metz. they raised, at a distance, the little white flag; one of their trumpeters sounded and then withdrew; the officer of the guard received the envoy and bandaged his eyes, then he went under escort through the city to the governor's house. but what these envoys told or demanded never transpired in the city; the council of defence alone were informed of it. we lived confined within our walls as if we were in the middle of the sea, and you cannot believe how that weighs upon one after a while, how depressing and overpowering it is not to be able to go out even upon the glacis. old men who had been nailed for ten years to their arm-chairs, and who never thought of moving, were oppressed by grief at knowing that the gates remained shut. and then every one wants to know what is going on, to see strangers and talk of the affairs of the country--no one knows how necessary these things are until he has had experience like ours. the meanest peasant, the lowest man in dagsburg who might have chanced to come into the city, would have been received like a god; everybody would have run to see him and ask for the news from france. ah! those are right who hold that liberty is the greatest of blessings, for it is insupportable being shut up in a prison--let it be as large as france. men are made to come and go, to talk and write, and live together, to carry on trade, to tell the news; and if you take these from them, you leave nothing desirable. governments do not understand this simple matter; they think that they are stronger when they prevent men from living at their ease, and at last everybody is tired of them. the true power of a sovereign is always in proportion to the liberty he can give, and not to that which he is obliged to take away. the allies had learned this for napoleon, and thence came their confidence. the saddest thing of all was that, toward the end of january, the citizens began to be in want. i cannot say that money was scarce, because a centime never went out of the city, but everything was dear; what three weeks before was worth two sous now cost twenty! this has often led me to think that scarcity of money is one of the fooleries invented by scoundrels to deceive the weak-minded. what else can make money scarce? you are not poor with two sous, if they are enough to buy your bread, wine, meat, clothes, etc.; but if you need twenty times more to buy these things, then not only are you poor, but the whole country is poor. there is no want of money when everything is cheap; it is always scarce when the necessaries of life are dear. so, when people are shut up as we were, it is very fortunate to be able to sell more than you buy. my brandy sold for three francs the quart, but at the same time we needed bread, oil, potatoes, and their prices were all proportionately high. one morning old mother queru came to my shop weeping; she had eaten nothing for two days! and yet that was the least thing, said she; she missed nothing but her glass of wine, which i gave her gratis. she gave me a hundred blessings and went away happy. a good many others would have liked their glass of wine! i have seen old men in despair because they had nothing to snuff; they even went so far as to snuff ashes; some at this time smoked the leaves of the large walnut-tree by the arsenal, and liked it well. unfortunately, all this was but the beginning of want: later we learned to fast for the glory of his majesty. toward the end of february, it became cold again. every evening they fired a hundred shells upon us, but we became accustomed to all that, till it seemed quite a thing of course. as soon as the shell burst everybody ran to put out the fire, which was an easy matter, since there were tubs full of water ready in every house. our guns replied to the enemy; but as after ten o'clock the russians fired only with field-pieces, our men could aim only at their fire, which was changing continually, and it was not easy to reach them. sometimes the enemy fired incendiary balls; these are balls pierced with three nails in a triangle, and filled with such inflammable matter that it could be extinguished only by throwing the ball under water, which was done. we had as yet had no fires; but our outposts had fallen back, and the allies drew closer and closer around the city. they occupied the ozillo farm, pernette's tile-kiln, and the maisons-rouges, which had been abandoned by our troops. here they intended to pass the winter pleasantly. these were wurtemburg, bavarian, and baden troops, and other landwehr, who replaced in alsace the regular troops that had left for the interior. we could plainly see their sentinels in long, grayish-blue coats, flat helmets, and muskets on their shoulders, walking slowly in the poplar alley which leads to the tile-kiln. from thence these troops could any moment, on a dark night, enter the trenches, and even attempt to force a postern. they were in large numbers and denied themselves nothing, having three or four villages around them to furnish their provisions, and the great fires of the tile-kiln to keep them warm. sometimes a russian battalion relieved them, but only for a day or two, being obliged to continue its route. these russians bathed in the little pond behind the building, in spite of the ice and snow which filled it. all of them, russians, wurtemburgers, and baden men, fired upon our sentinels, and we wondered that our governor had not stopped them with our balls. but one day the sergeant came in joyfully, and whispered to me, winking: "get up early to-morrow morning, father moses; don't say a word to any one, and follow me. you will see something that will make you laugh." "all right, sergeant!" said i. he went to bed at once, and long before day, about five o'clock, i heard him jump out of bed, which astonished me the more, as i had not heard the call. i rose softly. sorlé sleepily asked me: "what is it, moses?" "go to sleep again, sorlé," i replied; "the sergeant told me that he wanted to show me something." she said no more, and i finished dressing myself. just then the sergeant knocked at the door; i blew out the candle, and we went down. it was very dark. we heard a faint noise in the direction of the barracks; the sergeant went toward it, saying: "go up on the bastion; we are going to attack the tile-kiln." i ran up the street at once. as i came upon the ramparts i saw in the shadow of the bastion on the right our gunners at their pieces. they did not stir, and all around was still; matches lighted and set in the ground gave the only light, and shone like stars in the darkness. five or six citizens, in the secret, like myself, stood motionless at the entrance of the postern. the usual cries, "sentries, attention!" were answered around the city; and without, from the part of the enemy, we heard the cries "_verdâ!_" and "_souïda!_"* * who goes there? it was very cold, a dry cold, notwithstanding the fog. soon, from the direction of the square in the interior of the city, a number of men went up the street; if they had kept step the enemy would have heard them from the distance upon the glacis; but they came pell-mell, and turned near us into the postern stair-way. it took full ten minutes for them to pass. you can imagine whether i watched them, and yet i could not recognize our sergeant in the darkness. the two companies formed again in the trenches after their defiling, and all was still. my feet were perfectly numb, it was so cold; but curiosity kept me there. at last, after about half an hour, a pale line stretched behind the bottom-land of fiquet, around the woods of la bonne-fontaine. captain rolfo, the other citizens, and myself, leaned against the rampart, and looked at the snow-covered plain, where some german patrols were wandering in the fog, and nearer to us, at the foot of the glacis, the wurtemburg sentinel stood motionless in the poplar alley which leads to the large shed of the tile-kiln. everything was still gray and indistinct; though the winter sun, as white as snow, rose above the dark line of firs. our soldiers stood motionless, with grounded arms, in the covered ways. the "_verdâs!_" and "_souïdas!_" went their rounds. it grew lighter every moment. no one would have believed that a fight was preparing, when six o'clock sounded from the mayoralty, and suddenly our two companies, without command, started, shouldering their arms, from the covered ways, and silently descended the glacis. in less than a minute, they reached the road which stretches along the gardens, and defiled to the left, following the hedges. you cannot imagine my fright when i found that the fight was about to begin. it was not yet clear daylight, but still the enemy's sentinel saw the line of bayonets filing behind the hedges, and called out in a terrible way: "_verdâ!_" [illustration: the sortie from the lime-kiln.] "forward!" replied captain vigneron, in a voice like thunder, and the heavy soles of our soldiers sounded on the hard ground like an avalanche. the sentinel fired, and then ran up the alley, shouting i know not what. fifteen of the landwehr, who formed the outpost under the old shed used for drying bricks, started at once; they did not have time for repentance, but were all massacred without mercy. we could not see very well at that distance, through the hedges and poplars, but after the post was carried, the firing of the musketry and the horrible cries were heard even in the city. all the unfortunate landwehr who were quartered in the pernette farm-house--a large number of whom were undressed, like respectable men at home, so as to sleep more comfortably--jumped from the windows in their pantaloons, in their drawers, in their shirts, with their cartridge-boxes on their backs, and ranged themselves behind the tile-kiln, in the large seltier meadow. their officers urged them on, and gave their orders in the midst of the tumult. there must have been six or seven hundred of them there, almost naked in the snow, and, notwithstanding their being thus surprised, they opened a running fire which was well sustained, when our two pieces on the bastion began to take part in the contest. oh! what carnage! looking down upon them, you should have seen the bullets hit, and the shirts fly in the air! and, what was worst for these poor wretches, they had to close ranks, because, after destroying everything in the tile-kiln, our soldiers went out to make an attack with their bayonets! what a situation!--just imagine it, fritz, for respectable citizens, merchants, bankers, brewers, innkeepers--peaceable men who wanted nothing but peace and quietness. i have always thought, since then, that the landwehr system is a very bad one, and that it is much better to pay a good army of volunteers, who are attached to the country, and know that their pay, pensions, and decorations come from the nation and not from the government; young men devoted to their country like those of ' , and full of enthusiasm, because they are respected and honored in proportion to their sacrifices. yes, this is what they ought to be--and not men who are thinking of their wives and children. our balls struck down these poor fathers and husbands by the dozen. to add to all these abominations, two other companies, sent out with the greatest secrecy by the council of defence from the posterns of the guard and of the german gate, and which came up, one by the saverne road, and the other by the road of petit-saint-jean, now began to outflank them, and forming behind them, fired upon them in the rear. it must be confessed that these old soldiers of the empire had a diabolical talent for stratagem! who would ever have imagined such a stroke! on seeing this, the remnant of the landwehr disbanded on the great white plain like a whirlwind of sparrows. those who had not had time to put on their shoes did not mind the stones or briers or thorns of the fiquet bottom; they ran like stags, the stoutest as fast as the rest. our soldiers followed them as skirmishers, stopping not a second except to make ready and fire. all the ground in front, up to the old beech in the middle of the meadow of quatre-vents, was covered with their bodies. their colonel, a burgomaster doubtless, galloped before them on horseback, his shirt flying out behind him. if the baden soldiers, quartered in the village, had not come to their assistance, they would all have been exterminated. but two battalions of baden men being deployed at the right of quatre-vents, our trumpets sounded the recall, and the four companies formed in the alley _des dames_ to await them. the baden soldiers then halted, and the last of the wurtemburgers passed behind them, glad to escape from such a terrible destruction. they could well say: "i know what war is--i have seen it at the worst!" it was now seven o'clock--the whole city was on the ramparts. soon a thick smoke rose above the tile-kiln and the surrounding buildings; some sappers had gone out with fagots and set it on fire. it was all burned to cinders; nothing remained but a great black space, and some rubbish behind the poplars. our four companies, seeing that the baden soldiers did not mean to attack them, returned quietly, the trumpeter leading. long before this, i had gone down to the square, near the german gate, to meet our troops as they came back. it was one of the sights which i shall never forget; the post under arms, the veterans hanging by the chains of the lowered drawbridge; the men, women, and children pushing in the street; and outside, on the ramparts, the trumpets sounding, and answered from the distance by the echoes of the bastions and half-moon; the wounded, who, pale, tattered, covered with blood, came in first, supported on the shoulders of their comrades; lieutenant schnindret, in one of the tile-kiln armchairs, his face covered with sweat, with a bullet in his abdomen, shouting with thick voice and extended hand, "_vive l'empereur!_"; the soldiers who threw the wurtemburg commander from his litter to put one of our own in it; the drums under the gate beating the march, while the troops, with arms at will, and bread and all kinds of provisions stuck on their bayonets, entered proudly in the midst of the shouts: "_hurra for the sixth light infantry!_" these are things which only old people can boast of having seen! ah, fritz, men are not what they once were! in my time, foreigners paid the cost of war. the emperor napoleon had that virtue; he ruined not france, but his enemies. nowadays we pay for our own glory. and, in those times, the soldiers brought back booty, sacks, epaulettes, cloaks, officers' sashes, watches, etc., etc.! they remembered that general bonaparte had said to them in : "you need clothes and shoes; the republic owes you much, she can give you nothing. i am going to lead you into the richest country in the world; there you will find honors, glory, riches!" in fine, i saw at once that we were going to sell glasses of wine at a great rate. as the sergeant passed i called to him from the distance, "sergeant!" he saw me in the crowd, and we shook hands joyfully. "all right, father moses! all right!" he said. everybody laughed. then, without waiting for the end of the procession, i ran to the market to open my shop. little sâfel had also understood that we were going to have a profitable day, for, in the midst of the crowd, he had come and pulled my coat-tails, and said, "i have the key of the market; i have it; let us make haste! let us try to get there before frichard!" whatever natural wit a child may have, it shows itself at once; it is truly a gift of god. so we ran to the shop. i opened my windows, and sâfel remained while i went home to eat a morsel, and get a good quantity of sous and small change. sorlé and zeffen were at their counter selling small glassfuls. everything went well as usual. but a quarter of an hour later, when the soldiers had broken ranks and put back their muskets in their places at the barracks, the crowd at my shop in the market, of people wishing to sell me coats, sacks, watches, pistols, cloaks, epaulettes, etc., was so great that without sâfel's help i never could have got out of it. i got all these things for almost nothing. men of this sort never trouble themselves about to-morrow; their only thought was to live well from one day to another, to have tobacco, brandy, and the other good things which are never wanting in a garrisoned town. that day, in six hours' time, i refurnished my shop with coats, cloaks, pantaloons, and thick boots of genuine german leather, of the first quality, and i bought things of all sorts--nearly fifteen hundred pounds' worth--which i afterward sold for six or seven times more than they cost me. all those landwehr were well-to-do, and even rich citizens, with good, substantial clothes. the soldiers, too, sold me a good many watches, which goulden the old watchmaker did not want, because they were taken from the dead. but what gave me more pleasure than all the rest, was that frichard, who was sick for three or four days, could not come and open his shop. it makes me laugh now to think of it. it gave the rascal that green jaundice which never left him as long as he lived. at noon sâfel went to fetch our dinner in a basket; we ate under the shed so as not to lose custom, and could not leave for a minute till night. scarcely had one set gone, before two and often three others came at once. i was sinking with fatigue, and so was sâfel; nothing but our love of trade sustained us. another pleasant thing which i recall is that, on going home a few minutes before seven, we saw at a distance that our other shop was full. my wife and daughter had not been able to close it; they had raised the price, and the soldiers did not even notice it,--it seemed all right to them; so that not only the french money which i had just given them, but also wurtemburg florins came to my pocket. two trades which help each other along are an excellent thing, fritz: remember that! without my brandies i should not have had the money to buy so many goods, and without the market where i gave ready money for the booty, the soldiers would not have had wherewith to buy my brandy. this shows us plainly that the lord favors orderly and peaceable men, provided they know how to make the best use of their opportunities. at length, as we could not do more, we were obliged to close the shop, in spite of the protestations of the soldiers, and defer business till to-morrow. about nine o'clock, after supper, we all sat down together around the large lamp, to count our gains. i made rolls of three francs each, and on the chair next me the pile reached almost to the top of the table. little sâfel put the white pieces in a wooden bowl. it was a pleasant sight to us all, and sorlé said: "we have sold twice as much as usual. the more we raise the price the better it sells." i was going to reply that still we must use moderation in all things--for these women, even the best of them, do not know that--when the sergeant came in to take his little glass. he wore his foraging coat, and carried hung across his cape a kind of bag of red leather. "he, he, he!" said he, as he saw the rolls. "the devil! the devil! you ought to be satisfied with this day's work, father moses?" "yes, not bad, sergeant," i joyfully replied. "i think," said he, as he sat down and tasted the little glass of cherry-brandy, which zeffen had just poured out for him, "i think that after one or two sorties more, you will do for colonel of the shopkeepers' regiment. so much the better; i am very glad of it!" then, laughing heartily, he said, "he, father moses! see what i have here; these rascals of kaiserlichs deny themselves nothing." at the same time he opened his bag, and began to draw out a pair of mittens lined with fox-skin, then some good woollen stockings, and a large knife with a horn handle and blades of very fine steel. he opened the blades: "there is everything here," said he, "a pruning-knife, a saw, small knives and large ones, even to a file for nails." "for finger-nails, sergeant!" said i. "ah! very likely!" said he. "this big landwehr was as nice as a new crown-piece. he would be likely to file his finger-nails. but wait!" my wife and children, leaning over us, looked on with eager eyes. thrusting his hand into a sort of portfolio in the side of the bag, he drew out a handsome miniature, surrounded with a circle of gold in the shape of a watch, but larger. "see! what ought this to be worth?" i looked, then sorlé, then zeffen, and sâfel. we were all surprised at seeing a work of such beauty, and even touched, for the miniature represented a fair young woman and two lovely children, as fresh as rose-buds. "well, what do you think of that?" asked the sergeant. "it is very beautiful," said sorlé. "yes, but what is it worth?" i took the miniature and examined it. "to any one else, sergeant," said i, "i should say that it was worth fifty francs; but the gold alone is worth more, and i should estimate it at a hundred francs; we can weigh it." "and the portrait, father moses?" "the portrait is worth nothing to me, and i will give it back to you. such things do not sell in this country; they are of no value except to the family." "very well," said he, "we will talk about that by and by." he put back the miniature into the bag. "do you read german?" he asked. "very well." "ah, good! i am curious to hear what this kaiserlich had to write. see, it is a letter! he was keeping it doubtless for the baggage-master to send it to germany. but we came too soon! what does it say?" he handed me a letter addressed to madame roedig, stuttgart, no. bergstrasse. that letter, fritz, here it is. sorlé has kept it; it will tell you more about the landwehr than i can. "bichelberg, feb. , . "dear aurelia: thy good letter of january th reached coblentz too late; the regiment was on its way to alsace. "we have had a great many discomforts, from rain and snow. the regiment came first to bitche, one of the most terrible forts possible, built upon rocks up in the sky. we were to take part in blockading it, but a new order sent us on farther to the fort of lutzelstein, on the mountain, where we remained two days at the village of pétersbach, to summon that little place to surrender. the veterans who held it having replied by cannon, our colonel did not judge it necessary to storm it, and, thank god! we received orders to go and blockade another fortress surrounded by good villages which furnish us provisions in abundance; this is phalsburg, a couple of leagues from saverne. we relieve, here, the austrian regiment of vogelgesang, which has left for lorraine. "thy good letter has followed me everywhere, and it fills me now with joy. embrace little sabrina and our dear little henry for me a hundred times, and receive my embraces yourself, too, thou dear, adored wife! "ah! when shall we be together again in our little pharmacy? when shall i see again my vials nicely labelled upon their shelves, with the heads of Æsculapius and hippocrates above the door? when shall i take my pestle, and mix my drugs again after the prescribed formulas? when shall i have the joy of sitting again in my comfortable arm-chair, in front of a good fire, in our back shop, and hear henry's little wooden horse roll upon the floor,--henry whom i so long for? and thou, dear, adored wife, when wilt thou exclaim: 'it is my henry!' as thou seest me return crowned with palms of victory." "these germans," interrupted the sergeant, "are blockheads as well as asses! they are to have 'palms of victory!' what a silly letter!" but sorlé and zeffen listened as i read, with tears in their eyes. they held our little ones in their arms, and i, too, thinking that baruch might have been in the same condition as this poor man, was greatly moved. now, fritz, hear the end: "we are here in an old tile-kiln, within range of the cannon of the fort. a few shells are fired upon the city every evening, by order of the russian general, berdiaiw, with the hope of making the inhabitants decide to open the gates. that must be before long; they are short of provisions! then we shall be comfortably lodged in the citizens' houses, till the end of this glorious campaign; and that will be soon, for the regular armies have all passed without resistance, and we hear daily of great victories in champagne. bonaparte is in full retreat; field-marshals blücher and schwartzenberg have united their forces, and are only five or six days' march from paris----" "what? what? what is that? what does he say?" stammered out the sergeant, leaning over toward the letter. "read that again!" i looked at him; he was very pale, and his cheeks shook with anger. "he says that generals blücher and schwartzenberg are near paris." "near paris! they! the rascals!" he faltered out. suddenly, with a bad look on his face, he gave a low laugh and said: "ah! thou meanest to take phalsburg, dost thou? thou meanest to return to thy land of sauerkraut with palms of victory? he! he! he! i have given thee thy palms of victory!" he made the motions of pricking with his bayonet as he spoke, "one--_two_--hop!" it made us all tremble only to look at him. "yes, father moses, so it is," said he, emptying his glass by little sips. "i have nailed this sort of an apothecary to the door of the tile-kiln. he made up a funny face--his eyes starting from his head. his aurelia will have to expect him a good while! but never mind! only, madame sorlé, i assure you that it is a lie. you must not believe a word he says. the emperor will give it to them! don't be troubled." i did not wish to go on. i felt myself grow cold, and i finished the letter quickly, passing over three-quarters of it which contained no information, only compliments for friends and acquaintances. the sergeant himself had had enough of it, and went out soon afterward, saying, "good-night! throw that in the fire!" then i put the letter aside, and we all sat looking at each other for some minutes. i opened the door. the sergeant was in his room at the end of the passage, and i said, in a low voice: "what a horrible thing! not only to kill the father of a family like a fly, but to laugh about it afterward!" "yes," replied sorlé. "and the worst of it is that he is not a bad man. he loves the emperor too well, that is all!" the information contained in the letter caused us much serious reflection, and that night, notwithstanding our stroke of good fortune in our sales, i woke more than once, and thought of this terrible war, and wondered what would become of the country if napoleon were no longer its master. but these questions were above my comprehension, and i did not know how to answer them. xvii famine and fever after this story of the landwehr, we were afraid of the sergeant, though he did not know it, and came regularly to take his glass of cherry-brandy. sometimes in the evening he would hold the bottle before our lamp, and exclaim: "it is getting low, father moses, it is getting low! we shall soon be put upon half-rations, and then quarter, and so on. it is all the same; if a drop is left, anything more than the smell, in six months, trubert will be very glad." he laughed, and i thought with indignation: "you will be satisfied with a drop! what are you in want of? the city storehouses are bomb-proof, the fires at the guard-house are burning every day, the market furnishes every soldier with his ration of fresh meat, while respectable citizens are glad if they can get potatoes and salt meat!" this is the way i felt in my ill-humor, while i treated him pleasantly, all the same, on account of his terrible wickedness. and it was the truth, fritz, even our children had nothing more nourishing to eat than soup made of potatoes and salt beef, which cause many dangerous maladies. the garrison had no lack of anything; but, notwithstanding, the governor was all the time proclaiming that the visits were to be recommenced, and that those who should be found delinquent should be punished with the rigor of military law. those people wanted to have everything for themselves; but nobody minded them, everybody hid what he could. fortunate in those times was he who kept a cow in his cellar, with some hay and straw for fodder; milk and butter were beyond all price. fortunate was he who owned a few hens; a fresh egg, at the end of february, was valued at fifteen sous, and they were not to be had even at that price. the price of fresh meat went up, so to speak, from hour to hour, and we did not ask if it was beef or horse-flesh. the council of defence had sent away the paupers of the city before the blockade, but a large number of poor people remained. a good many slipped out at night into the trenches by one of the posterns; they would go and dig up roots from under the snow, and cut the nettles in the bastions to boil for spinach. the sentries fired from above, but what will not a man risk for food? it is better to feel a ball than to suffer with hunger. we needed only to meet these emaciated creatures, these women dragging themselves along the walls, these pitiful children, to feel that famine had come, and we often said to ourselves: "if the emperor does not come and help us, in a month we shall be like these wretched creatures! what good will our money do us, when a radish will cost a hundred francs?" then, fritz, we smiled no more as we saw the little ones eating around the table; we looked at each other, and this glance was enough to make us understand each other. the good sense and good feeling of a brave woman are seen at times like this. sorlé had never spoken to me about our provisions; i knew how prudent she was, and supposed that we must have provisions hidden somewhere, without being entirely sure of it. so, at evening, as we sat at our meagre supper, the fear that our children might want the necessary food sometimes led me to say: "eat! feast away! i am not hungry. i want an omelet or a chicken. potatoes do not agree with me." i would laugh, but sorlé knew very well what i was thinking. "come, moses," she said to me one day; "we are not as badly off as you think; and if we should come to it, ah, well! do not be troubled, we shall find some way of getting along! so long as others have something to live upon, we shall not perish, more than they." she gave me courage, and i ate cheerfully, i had so much confidence in her. that same evening, after zeffen and the children had gone to bed, sorlé took the lamp, and led me to her hiding-place. under the house we had three cellars, very small and very low, separated by lattices. against the last of these lattices, sorlé had thrown bundles of straw up to the very top; but after removing the straw, we went in, and i saw at the farther end, two bags of potatoes, a bag of flour, and on the little oil-cask a large piece of salt beef. we stayed there more than an hour, to look, and calculate, and think. these provisions might serve us for a month, and those in the large cellar under the street, which we had declared to the commissary of provisions, a fortnight. so that sorlé said to me as we went up: "you see that, with economy, we have what will do for six weeks. a time of great want is now beginning, and if the emperor does not come before the end of six weeks, the city will surrender. meanwhile, we must get along with potatoes and salt meat." she was right, but every day i saw how the children were suffering from this diet. we could see that they grew thin, especially little david; his large bright eyes, his hollow cheeks, his increasing dejected look, made my heart ache. i held him, i caressed him; i whispered to him that, when the winter was over, we would go to saverne, and his father would take him to drive in his carriage. he would look at me dreamily, and then lay his head upon my shoulder, with his arm around my neck, without answering. at last he refused to eat. zeffen, too, became disheartened; she would often sob, and take her babe from me, and say that she wanted to go, that she wanted to see baruch! you do not know what these troubles are, fritz; a father's troubles for his children; they are the cruelest of all! no child can imagine how his parents love him, and what they suffer when he is unhappy. but what was to be done in the midst of such calamities? many other families in france were still more to be pitied than we. during all this time, you must remember that we had the patrols, the shells in the evening, requisition and notices, the call to arms at the two barracks and in front of the mayoralty, the cries of "fire!" in the night, the noise of the fire-engines, the arrival of the envoys, the rumors spread through the city that our armies were retreating, and that the city was to be burned to the ground! the less people know the more they invent. it is best to tell the simple truth. then every one would take courage, for, during all such times, i have always seen that the truth, even in the greatest calamities, is never so terrible as these inventions. the republicans defended themselves so well, because they knew everything, nothing was concealed from them, and every one considered the affairs of his nation as his own. but when men's own affairs are hidden from them, how can they have confidence? an honest man has nothing to conceal, and i say it is the same with an honest government. in short, bad weather, cold, want, rumors of all kinds, increased our miseries. men like burguet, whom we had always seen firm, became sad; all that they could say to us was: "we shall see!--we must wait!" the soldiers again began to desert, and were shot! our brandy-selling always kept on: i had already emptied seven pipes of spirit, all my debts were paid, my storehouse at the market was full of goods, and i had eighteen thousand francs in the cellar; but what is money, when we are trembling for the life of those we love? on the sixth of march, about nine o'clock in the evening, we had just finished supper as usual, and the sergeant was smoking his pipe, with his legs crossed, near the window, and looking at us without speaking. it was the hour when the bombarding began; we heard the first cannon-shots, behind the fiquet bottom-land; a cannon-shot from the outposts had answered them; that had somewhat roused us, for we were all thoughtful. "father moses," said the sergeant, "the children are pale!" "i know it very well," i replied, sorrowfully. he said no more, and as zeffen had just gone out to weep, he took little david on his knee, and looked at him for a long time. sorlé held little esdras asleep in her arms. sâfel took off the table-cloth and rolled up the napkins, to put them back in the closet. "yes," said the sergeant. "we must take care, father moses; we will talk about it another time." i looked at him with surprise; he emptied his pipe at the edge of the stove, and went out, making a sign for me to follow him. zeffen came in, and i took a candle from her hand. the sergeant led me to his little room at the end of the passage, shut the door, sat down on the foot of the bed, and said: "father moses, do not be frightened--but the typhus has just broken out again in the city; five soldiers were taken to the hospital this morning; the commandant of the place, moulin, is taken. i hear, too, of a woman and three children!" he looked at me, and i felt cold all over. "yes," said he, "i have known this disease for a long time; we had it in poland, in russia, after the retreat, and in germany. it always comes from poor nourishment." then i could not help sobbing and exclaiming: "ah, tell me! what can i do? if i could give my life for my children, it would all be well! but what can i do?" "to-morrow, father moses, i will bring you my portion of meat, and you shall have soup made of it for your children. madame sorlé may take the piece at the market, or, if you prefer, i will bring it myself. you shall have all my portions of fresh meat till the blockade is over, father moses." i was so moved by this, that i went to him and took his hand, saying: "sergeant, you are a noble man! forgive me, i have thought evil of you." "what about?" said he, scowling. "about the landwehr at the tile-kiln!" "ah, good! that is a different thing! i do not care about that," said he. "if you knew all the kaiserlichs that i have despatched these ten years, you would have thought more evil of me. but that is not what we are talking about; you accept, father moses?" "and you, sergeant," said i, "what will you have to eat?" "do not be troubled about that; sergeant trubert has never been in want!" i wanted to thank him. "good!" said he, "that is all understood. i cannot give you a pike, or a fat goose, but a good soup in blockade times is worth something, too." he laughed and shook hands with me. as for myself i was quite overcome, and my eyes were full of tears. "let us go; good-night!" said he, as he led me to the door. "it will all come out right! tell madame sorlé that it will all come out right!" i blessed that man as i went out, and i told it all to sorlé, who was still more affected by it than myself. we could not refuse; it was for the children! and during the last week there had been nothing but horse-meat in the market. so the next morning we had fresh meat to make soup for those poor little ones. but the dreadful malady was already upon us, fritz! now, when i think of it, after all these years, i am quite overcome. however, i cannot complain; before going to take the bit of meat, i had consulted our old rabbi about the quality of this meat according to the law, and he had replied: "the first law is to save israel; but how can israel be saved if the children perish?" but after a while i remembered that other law: "the life of the flesh is in the blood, therefore i said unto the children of israel: ye shall eat the blood of no manner of flesh, for the life of all flesh is the blood thereof; whosoever eateth it shall be cut off; and whosoever eateth of any sick beast shall be unclean." in my great misery the words of the lord came to me, and i wept. all these animals had been sick for six weeks; they lived in the mire, exposed to the snow and wind, between the arsenal and guard bastions. the soldiers, almost all of whom were sons of peasants, ought to have known that they could not live in the open air, in such cold weather; a shelter could easily have been made. but when officers take the whole charge, nobody else thinks of anything; they even forget their own village trades. and if, unfortunately, their commanders do not give the order, nothing is done. this is the reason that the animals had neither flesh nor fat; this is the reason that they were nothing but miserable, trembling carcasses, and their suffering, unhealthy flesh had become unclean, according to the law of god. many of the soldiers died. the wind brought to the city the bad air from the bodies, scattered by hundreds around the tile-kiln, the ozillo farm, and in the gardens, and this also caused much sickness. the justice of the lord is shown in all things; when the living neglect their duties toward the dead, they perish. i have often remembered these things when it was too late, so that i think of them only with grief. xviii death of little david the most painful of all my recollections, fritz, is the way in which that terrible disease came to our family. on the twelfth of march we heard of a large number of men, women, and children who were dying. we dared not listen; we said: "no one in our house is sick, the lord watches over us!" after david had come, after supper, to cuddle in my arms, with his little hand on my shoulder, i looked at him; he seemed very drowsy, but children are always sleepy at night. esdras was already asleep, and sâfel had just bidden us good-night. at last zeffen took the child, and we all went to bed. that night the russians did not fire; perhaps the typhus was among them, too. i do not know. about midnight, when by god's goodness we were asleep, i heard a terrible cry. i listened, and sorlé said to me: "it is zeffen!" i rose at once, and tried to light the lamp; but i was so much agitated that i could not find anything. sorlé struck a light, i drew on my pantaloons and ran to the door. but i was hardly in the passage-way when zeffen came out of her room like an insane person, with her long black hair all loose. "the child!" she screamed. sorlé followed me. we went in, we leaned over the cradle. the two children seemed to be sleeping; esdras all rosy, david as white as snow. at first i saw nothing, i was so frightened, but at last i took up david to waken him; i shook him, and called, "david!" and then we first saw that his eyes were open and fixed. "wake him! wake him!" cried zeffen. sorlé took my hands and said: "quick! make a fire! heat some water!" and we laid him across the bed, shaking him and calling him by name. little esdras began to cry. "light a fire!" said sorlé again to me. "and, zeffen, be quiet! it does no good to cry so! quick, quick, a fire!" but zeffen cried out incessantly, "my poor child!" "he will soon be warm again," said sorlé; "only, moses, make haste and dress yourself, and run for doctor steinbrenner." she was pale and more alarmed than we, but this brave woman never lost her presence of mind or her courage. she had made a fire, and the fagots were crackling in the chimney. i ran to get my cloak, and went down, thinking to myself: "the lord have mercy upon us! if the child dies i shall not survive him! no, he is the one that i love best, i could not survive him!" for you know, fritz, that the child who is most unhappy, or in the greatest danger, is always the one that we love best; he needs us the most; we forget the others. the lord has ordered it so, doubtless for the greatest good. i was already running in the street. a darker night was never known. the wind blew from the rhine, the snow blew about like dust; here and there the lighted windows showed where people were watching the sick. my head was uncovered, yet i did not feel the cold. i cried within myself: "the last day had come! that day of which the lord has said: 'afore the harvest, when the bud is perfect, and the sour grape is ripening in the flower, he shall both cut off the sprigs with pruning-hooks, and take away and cut down the branches." full of these fearful thoughts, i went across the large market-place, where the wind was tossing the old elms, full of frost. as the clock struck one, i pushed open doctor steinbrenner's door; its large pulley rattled in the vestibule. as i was groping about, trying to find the railing, the servant appeared with a light at the top of the stairs. "who is there?" she asked, holding the lantern before her. "ah!" i replied, "tell the doctor to come immediately; we have a child sick, very sick." i could not restrain my sobs. "come up, monsieur moses," said the girl: "the doctor has just come in, and has not gone to bed. come up a moment and warm yourself!" but father steinbrenner had heard it all. "very well, theresa!" said he, coming out of his room; "keep the fire burning. i shall be back in an hour at latest." he had already put on his large three-cornered cap, and his goat's-hair great-coat. we walked across the square without speaking. i went first; in a few minutes we ascended our stairs. sorlé had placed a candle at the top of the stairs; i took it and led m. steinbrenner to the baby's room. all seemed quiet as we entered. zeffen was sitting in an arm-chair behind the door, with her head on her knees, and her shoulders uncovered; she was no longer crying but weeping. the child was in bed. sorlé, standing at its side, looked at us. the doctor laid his cap on the bureau. "it is too warm here," said he, "give us a little air." then he went to the bed. zeffen had risen from her chair, as pale as death. the doctor took the lamp, and looked at our poor little david; he raised the coverlet and lifted out the little round limbs; he listened to the breathing. esdras having begun to cry, he turned round and said: "take the other child away from this room--we must be quiet! and besides, the air of a sick-room is not good for such small children." he gave me a side look. i understood what he meant to say. it was the typhus! i looked at my wife; she understood it all. i felt at that moment as if my heart were torn; i wanted to groan, but zeffen was there leaning over, behind us, and i said nothing; nor did sorlé. the doctor asked for paper to write a prescription, and we went out together. i led him to our room, and shut the door, and began to sob. "moses," said he, "you are a man, do not weep! remember that you ought to set an example of courage to two poor women." "is there no hope?" i asked him in a low voice, afraid of being heard. "it is the typhus!" said he. "we will do what we can. there, that is the prescription; go to tribolin's; his boy is up at night now, and he will give you the medicine. be quick! and then, in heaven's name, take the other child out of that room, and your daughter too, if possible. try to find some one out of the family, accustomed to sickness; the typhus is contagious." i said nothing. he took his cap and went. now what can i say more? the typhus is a disease engendered by death itself; the prophet speaks of it, when he says: "hell from beneath is moved for thee, to meet thee at thy coming!" how many have i seen die of the typhus in our hospitals, on the saverne hill, and elsewhere! when men tear each other to pieces, without mercy, why should not death come to help them? but what had this poor babe done that it must die so soon? this, fritz, is the most dreadful thing, that all must suffer for the crimes of a few. yes, when i think that my child died of this pestilence, which war had brought from the heart of russia to our homes, and which ravaged all alsace and lorraine for six months, instead of accusing god, as the impious do, i accuse men. has not god given them reason? and when they do not use it--when they let themselves rage against each other like brutes--is he to blame for it? but of what use are right ideas, when we are suffering! i remember that the sickness lasted for six days, and those were the cruelest days of my life. i feared for my wife, for my daughter, for sâfel, for esdras. i sat in a corner, listening to the babe's breathing. sometimes he seemed to breathe no longer. then a chill passed over me; i went to him and listened. and when, by chance, zeffen came, in spite of the doctor's prohibition, i went into a sort of fury; i pushed her out by the shoulders, trembling. "but he is my child! he is my child!" she said. "and art thou not my child too?" said i. "i do not want you all to die!" then i burst into tears, and fell into my chair, looking straight before me, my strength all gone; i was exhausted with grief. sorlé came and went, with firm-closed lips; she prepared everything, and cared for everybody. at that time musk was the remedy for typhus; the house was full of musk. often the idea seized me that esdras, too, was going to be sick. ah, if having children is the greatest happiness in the world, what agony is it to see them suffer! how fearful to think of losing them!--to be there, to hear their labored breathing, their delirium, to watch their sinking from hour to hour, from minute to minute, and to exclaim from the depths of the soul: "death is near at hand! there is nothing, nothing more that can be done to save thee, my child! i cannot give thee my life! death does not wish for it!" what heart-rending and what anguish, till the last moment when all is over! then, fritz, money, the blockade, the famine, the general desolation--all were forgotten. i hardly saw the sergeant open our door every morning, and look in, asking: "well, father moses, well?" i did not know what he said; i paid no attention to him. but, what i always think of with pleasure, what i am always proud of, is that, in the midst of all this trouble, when sorlé, zeffen, myself, and everybody were beside ourselves, when we forgot all about our business, and let everything go, little sâfel at once took charge of our shop. every morning we heard him rise at six o'clock, go down, open, the warehouse, take up one or two pitchers of brandy, and begin to serve the customers. no one had said a word to him about it, but sâfel had a genius for trade. and if anything could console a father in such troubles, it would be to see himself, as it were, living over again in so young a child, and to say to himself: "at least the good race is not extinct; it still remains to preserve common-sense in the world." yes, it is the only consolation which a man can have. our _schabesgoïé_ did the work in the kitchen, and old lanche helped us watch, but sâfel took the charge of the shop; his mother and i thought of nothing but our little david. he died in the night of the eighteenth of march, the day when the fire broke out in captain cabanier's house. that same night two shells fell upon our house; the blindage made them roll into the court, where they both burst, shattering the laundry windows and demolishing the butcher's door, which fell down at once with a fearful crash. it was the most powerful bombardment since the blockade began, for, as soon as the enemy saw the flame ascending, they fired from mittelbronn, from the barracks, and the fiquet lowlands, to prevent its being extinguished. i stayed all the while with sorlé, near the babe's bed, and the noise of the bursting shells did not disturb us. the unhappy do not cling to life; and then the child was so sick! there were blue spots all over his body. the end was drawing near. i walked the room. without they were crying "fire! fire!" people passed in the street like a torrent. we heard those returning from the fire telling the news, the engines hurrying by, the soldiers ranging the crowd in the line, the shells bursting at the right and left. before our windows the long trails of red flame descended upon the roofs in front, and shattered the glass of the windows. our cannon all around the city replied to the enemy. now and then we heard the cry: "room! room!" as the wounded were carried away. twice some pickets came up into my room to put me in the line, but, on seeing me sitting with sorlé by our child, they went down again. the first shell burst at our house about eleven o'clock, the second at four in the morning; everything shook, from the garret to the cellar; the floor, the bed, the furniture seemed to be upheaved; but, in our exhaustion and despair, we did not speak a single word. zeffen came running to us with esdras and little sâfel, at the first explosion. it was evident that little david was dying. old lanche and sorlé were sitting, sobbing. zeffen began to cry. i opened the windows wide, to admit the air, and the powder-smoke which covered the city came into the room. sâfel saw at once that the hour was at hand. i needed only to look at him, and he went out, and soon returned by a side street, notwithstanding the crowd, with kalmes the chanter, who began to recite the prayer of the dying: "the lord reigneth! the lord reigneth! the lord shall reign everywhere and forever! "praise, everywhere and forever, the name of his glorious reign! "the lord is god! the lord is god! the lord is god! "hear, oh israel, the lord our god is one god! "go, then, where the lord calleth thee--go, and may his mercy help thee! "may the lord, our god, be with thee; may his immortal angels lead thee to heaven, and may the righteous be glad when the lord shall receive thee into his bosom! "god of mercy, receive this soul into the midst of eternal joys!" sorlé and i repeated, weeping, those holy words. zeffen lay as if dead, her arms extended across the bed, over the feet of her child. her brother sâfel stood behind her, weeping bitterly, and calling softly, "zeffen! zeffen!" but she did not hear; her soul was lost in infinite sorrows. without, the cries of "fire!" the orders for the engines, the tumult of the crowd, the rolling of the cannonade still continued; the flashes, one after another, lighted up the darkness. what a night, fritz! what a night! suddenly sâfel, who was leaning over under the curtain, turned round to us in terror. my wife and i ran, and saw that the child was dead. we raised our hands, sobbing, to indicate it. the chanter ceased his psalm. our david was dead! the most terrible thing was the mother's cry! she lay, stretched out, as if she had fainted; but when the chanter leaned over and closed the lips, saying "_amen!_" she rose, lifted the little one, looked at him, then, raising him above her head, began to run toward the door, crying out with a heart-rending voice: "baruch! baruch! save our child!" she was mad, fritz! in this last terror i stopped her, and, by main force, took from her the little body which she was carrying away. and sorlé, throwing her arms round her, with ceaseless groanings, mother lanche, the chanter, sâfel, all led her away. i remained alone, and i heard them go down, leading away my daughter. how can a man endure such sorrows? i put david back in the bed and covered him, because of the open windows. i knew that he was dead, but it seemed to me as if he would be cold. i looked at him for a long time, so as to retain that beautiful face in my heart. it was all heart-rending--all! i felt as if my bowels were torn from me, and in my madness i accused the lord, and said: "i am the man that hath seen affliction by the rod of thy wrath. surely against me is he turned. my flesh and my skin hath he made old: he hath broken my bones. he hath set me in dark places. also when i cry and shout he shutteth out my prayer. he was unto me as a lion in secret places!" thus i walked about, groaning and even blaspheming. but god in his mercy forgave me; he knew that it was not myself that spoke, but my despair. at last i sat down, the others came back. sorlé sat next to me in silence. sâfel said to me: "zeffen has gone to the rabbi's with esdras." i covered my head without answering him. then some women came with old lanche; i took sorlé by the hand, and we went into the large room, without speaking a word. the mere sight of this room, where the two little brothers had played so long, made my tears come afresh, and sorlé, sâfel, and i wept together. the house was full of people; it might have been eight o'clock, and they knew already that we had a child dead. xix the passover then, fritz, the funeral rites began. all who died of typhus had to be buried the same day: christians behind the church, and jews in the trenches, in the place now occupied by the riding-school. old women were already there to wash the poor little body, and comb the hair, and cut the nails, according to the law of the lord. some of them sewed the winding-sheet. the open windows admitted the air, the shutters struck against the walls. the _schamess_* went through the streets, striking the doors with his mace, to summon our brethren. * beadle. sorlé sat upon the ground with her head veiled. hearing desmarets come up the stairs, i had courage to go and meet him, and show him the room. the poor angel was in his little shirt on the floor, the head raised a little on some straw, and the little _thaleth_ in his fingers. he was so beautiful, with his brown hair, and half-opened lips, that i thought as i looked at him: "the lord wanted to have thee near his throne!" and my tears fell silently: my beard was full of them. desmarets then took the measure and went. half an hour afterward, he returned with the little pine coffin under his arm, and the house was filled anew with lamentations. i could not see the coffin closed! i went and sat upon the sack of ashes, covering my face with both hands, and crying in my heart like jacob, "surely i shall go down to the grave with this child; i shall not survive him." only a very few of our brethren came, for a panic was in the city; men knew that the angel of death was passing by, and that drops of blood rained from his sword upon the houses; each emptied the water from his jug upon the threshold and entered quickly. but the best of them came silently, and as evening approached, it was necessary to go and descend by the postern. i was the only one of our family. sorlé was not able to follow me, nor zeffen. i was the only one to throw the shovelful of earth. my strength all left me, they had to lead me back to our door. the sergeant held me by the arm; he spoke to me and i did not hear him; i was as if dead. all else that i remember of that dreadful day, is the moment when, having come into the house, sitting on the sack, before our cold hearth, with bare feet and bent head, and my soul in the depths, the _schamess_ came to me, touched my shoulder and made me rise; and then took his knife from his pocket and rent my garment, tearing it to the hip. this blow was the last and the most dreadful; i fell back, murmuring with job: "let the day perish wherein i was born, and the night in which it was said, there is a man child conceived! let a cloud dwell upon it, let the blackness of the day terrify it! for mourning, the true mourning does not come down from the father to the child, but goes up from the child to the father. why did the knees prevent me? or why the breasts that i should suck? for now i should have lain still in the tomb and been at rest!" and my grief, fritz, had no bounds; "what will baruch say," i exclaimed, "and what shall i answer him when he asks me to give him back his child?" i felt no longer any interest in our business. zeffen lived with the old rabbi; her mother spent the days with her, to take care of esdras and comfort her. every part of our house was opened; the _schabesgoïé_ burned sugar and spices, and the air from without had free circulation. sâfel went on selling. as for myself, i sat before the hearth in the morning, cooked some potatoes, and ate them with a little salt, and then went out, without thought or aim. i wandered sometimes to the right, sometimes to the left, toward the old gendarmerie, around the ramparts, in out-of-the-way places. i could not bear to see any one, especially those who had known the child. then, fritz, our miseries were at their height; famine, cold, all kinds of sufferings weighed upon the city; faces grew thin, and women and children were seen, half-naked and trembling, groping in the shadow in the deserted by-ways. ah! such miseries will never return! we have no more such abominable wars, lasting twenty years, when the highways looked like ruts, and the roads like streams of mud; when the ground remained untilled for want of husbandmen, when houses sank for want of inhabitants; when the poor went barefoot and the rich in wooden shoes, while the superior officers passed by on superb horses, looking down contemptuously on the whole human race. we could not endure that now! but at that time everything in the nation was destroyed and humiliated; the citizens and the people had nothing left; force was everything. if a man said, "but there is such a thing as justice, right, truth!" the way was to answer with a smile, "i do not understand you!" and you were taken for a man of sense and experience, who would make his way. then, in the midst of my sorrow, i saw these things without thinking about them; but since then, they have come back to me, and thousands of others; all the survivors of those days can remember them, too. one morning, i was under the old market, looking at the wretches as they bought meat. at that time they knocked down the horses of rouge-colas and those of the gendarmes, as fleshless as the cattle in the trenches, and sold the meat at very high prices. i looked at the swarms of wrinkled old women, of hollow-eyed citizens, all these wretched creatures crowding before frantz sepel's stall, while he distributed bits of carcass to them. frantz's large dogs were seen no longer prowling about the market, licking up the bloody scraps. the dried hands of old women were stretched out at the end of their fleshless arms, to snatch everything; weak voices called out entreatingly, "a little more liver, monsieur frantz, so that we can make merry!" i saw all this under the great dark roof, through which a little light came, in the holes made by the shells. in the distance, among the worm-eaten pillars, some soldiers, under the arch of the guard-house, with their old capes hanging down their thighs, were also looking on;--it seemed like a dream. my great sorrow accorded with these sad sights. i was about leaving at the end of a half hour, when i saw burguet coming along by father brainstein's old country-house, which was now staved in by the shells, and leaning, all shattered, over the street. burguet had told me several days before our affliction, that his maid-servant was sick. i had thought no more of it, but now it came to me. he looked so changed, so thin, his cheeks so marked by wrinkles, it seemed as if years had passed since i had seen him. his hat came down to his eyes, and his beard, at least a fortnight old, had turned gray. he came in, looking round in all directions; but he could not see me where i was, in the deep shadow, against the planks of the old fodder-house; and he stopped behind the crowd of old women, who were squeezed in a semicircle before the stall, awaiting their turn. after a minute he put some sous in frantz sepel's hand, and received his morsel, which he hid under his cloak. then looking round again, he was going away quickly, with his head down. this sight moved my heart: i hurried away, raising my hands to heaven, and exclaiming: "is it possible? is it possible? burguet too! a man of his genius to suffer hunger and eat carcasses! oh, what times of trial!" i went home, completely upset. we had not many provisions left; but, still, the next morning, as sâfel was going down to open the shop, i said to him: "stop, my child, take this little basket to m. burguet; it is some potatoes and salt beef. take care that nobody sees it, they would take it from you. say that it is in remembrance of the poor deserter." the child went. he told me that burguet wept. this, fritz, is what must be seen in a blockade, where you are attacked from day to day. this is what the germans and spaniards had to suffer, and what we suffered in our turn. this is war! even the siege rations were almost gone; but moulin, the commandant of the place, having died of typhus, the famine did not prevent the lieutenant-colonel, who took his place, from giving balls and fêtes to the envoys, in the old thevenot house. the windows were bright, music played, the staff-officers drank punch and warm wine, to make believe that we were living in abundance. there was good reason for bandaging the eyes of these envoys till they reached the very ball-room, for, if they had seen the look of the people, all the punch-bowls and warm wines in the world would not have deceived them. all this time, the grave-digger mouyot and his two boys came every morning to take their two or three drops of brandy. they might say "we drink to the dead!" as the veterans said "we drink to the cossacks!" nobody in the city would willingly have undertaken to bury those who had died of typhus; they alone, after taking their drop, dared to throw the bodies from the hospital upon a cart, and pile them up in the pit, and then they passed for grave-diggers, with father zébédé. the order was to wrap the dead in a sheet. but who saw that it was done? old mouyot himself told me that they were buried in their cloaks or vests, as it might be, and sometimes entirely naked. for every corpse, these men had their thirty-five sous; father mouyot, the blind man, can tell you so; it was his harvest. toward the end of march, in the midst of this fearful want, when there was not a dog, and still less a cat, to be seen in the streets, the city was full of evil tidings; rumors of battles lost, of marches upon paris, etc. as the envoys had been received, and balls given in their honor, something of our misfortunes became known either through the family or the servants. often, in wandering through the streets which ran along the ramparts, i mounted one of the bastions, looking toward strasburg, or metz, or paris. i had no fear then of stray balls. i looked forth upon the thousand bivouac fires scattered over the plain, the soldiers of the enemy returning from the villages with their long poles hung with quarters of meat, at others crouched around the little fires which shone like stars upon the edge of the forest, and at their patrols and their covered batteries from which their flag was flying. sometimes i looked at the smoke of the chimneys at quatre-vents, or bichelberg, or mittelbronn. our chimneys had no smoke, our festive days were over. you can never imagine how many thoughts come to you, when you are so shut up, as your eyes follow the long white highways, and you imagine yourself walking there, talking with people about the news, asking them what they have suffered, and telling them what you have yourself endured. from the bastion of the guard, i could see even the white peaks of the schneeberg; i imagined myself in the midst of foresters, wood-cutters, and wood-splitters. there was a rumor that they were defending their route from schirmeck; i longed to know if it were true. as i looked toward the maisons-rouges, on the road to paris, i imagined myself to be with my old friend leiser; i saw him at his hearth, in despair at having to support so many people, for the russian, austrian, and bavarian staff-officers remained upon this route, and new regiments went by continually. and spring came! the snow began to melt in the furrows and behind the hedges. the great forests of la bonne-fontaine and the barracks began to change their tents. the thing which affected me most, as i have often remembered, was hearing the first lark at the end of march. the sky was entirely clear, and i looked up to see the bird. i thought of little david, and i wept, i knew not why. men have strange thoughts; they are affected by the song of a bird, and sometimes, years after, the same sounds recall the same emotions, so as even to make them weep. at last the house was purified, and zeffen and sorlé came back to it. the time of the passover drew near; and the floors must be washed, the walls scoured, the vessels cleansed. in the midst of these cares, the poor women forgot, in some measure, our affliction; but as the time drew nearer our anxiety increased; how, in the midst of this famine, were we to obey the command of god: "this month shall be the first month of the year to you. "in the tenth day of this month they shall take to them every man a lamb, according to the house of their fathers, a lamb for a house. "ye shall take it out from the sheep or from the goats. "and ye shall keep it until the fourteenth day of the same month. "and they shall eat the flesh in that night, roast with fire, and unleavened bread; and with bitter herbs shall they eat it." but where was the sacrificial lamb to be found? schmoûlé alone, the old _schamess_, had thought of it for us all, three months before; he had nourished a male goat of that year in his cellar, and that was the goat that was killed. every jewish family had a portion of it, small indeed, but the law of the lord was fulfilled. we invited on that day, according to the law, one of the poorest of our brethren, kalmes. we went together to the synagogue; the prayers were recited, and then we returned to partake of the feast at our table. everything was ready and according to the proper order, notwithstanding the great destitution; the white cloth, the goblet of vinegar, the hard egg, the horseradish, the unleavened bread, and the flesh of the goat. the lamp with seven burners shone above it; but we had not much bread. having taken my seat in the midst of my family, sâfel took the jug and poured water upon my hands; then we all bent forward, each took a piece of bread, saying with heavy hearts: "this is the bread of affliction which our fathers ate in egypt. whosoever is hungry, let him come and eat with us. whosoever is poor, let him come and make the passover!" we sat down again, and sâfel said to me: "what mean ye by this service, my father?" and i answered: "we were slaves in egypt, my child, and the lord brought us forth with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm!" these words inspired us with courage; we hoped that god would deliver us as he had delivered our fathers, and that the emperor would be his right arm; but we were mistaken, the lord wanted nothing more of that man! xx peace the next morning, at daybreak, between six and seven o'clock, when we were all asleep, the report of a cannon made our windows rattle. the enemy usually fired only at night. i listened; a second report followed after a few seconds, then another, then others, one by one. i rose, opened a window, and looked out. the sun was rising behind the arsenal. not a soul was in the street; but, as one report came after another, doors and windows were opened; men in their shirts leaned out, listening. no shells hissed through the air; the enemy fired blank cartridges. as i listened, a great murmur came from the distance, outside of the city. first it came from the mittelbronn hill, then it reached the bichelberg, quatre-vents, the upper and lower barracks. sorlé had just risen also; i finished dressing, and said to her: "something extraordinary is going on--god grant that it may be for good!" and i went down in great perturbation. it was not a quarter of an hour since the first report, and the whole city was out. some ran to the ramparts, others were in groups, shouting and disputing at the corners of the streets. astonishment, fear, and anger were depicted upon every face. a large number of soldiers were mingled with the citizens, and all went up together in groups to the right and left of the french gate. i was about following one of these groups, when burguet came down the street. he looked thin and emaciated, as on the day when i saw him in the market. "well!" said i, running to meet him, "this is something serious!" "very serious, and promising no good, moses!" said he. "yes, it is evident," said i, "that the allies have gained victories; it may be that they are in paris!" he turned around in alarm, and said in a low voice: "take care, moses, take care! if any one heard you, at a moment like this, the veterans would tear you in pieces!" i was dreadfully frightened, for i saw that he was right, while, as for him, his cheeks shook. he took me by the arm and said: "i owe you thanks for the provisions you sent me; they came very opportunely." and when i answered that we should always have a morsel of bread at his service, so long as we had any left, he pressed my hand; and we went together up the street of the infantry quarters, as far as to the ice-house bastion, where two batteries had been placed to command the mittelbronn hill. there we could see the road to paris as far as to petite saint jean, and even to lixheim; but those great heaps of earth, called _cavaliers_, were covered with people; baron parmentier, his assistant pipelingre, the old curate leth, and many other men of note were there, in the midst of the crowd, looking on in silence. we had only to see their faces to know that something dreadful was happening. from this height on the talus, we saw what was riveting everybody's attention. all our enemies, austrians, bavarians, wurtemburgers, russians, cavalry and infantry mixed together, were swarming around their intrenchments like ants, embracing each other, shaking hands, lifting their shakos on the points of their bayonets, waving branches of trees just beginning to turn green. horsemen dashed across the plain, with their colbacs on the point of their swords, and rending the air with their shouts. the telegraph was in operation on the hill of saint jean; burguet pointed it out to me. "if we understood those signals, moses," said he, "we should know better what was going to happen to us in the next fortnight." some persons having turned round to listen to us, we went down again into the streets of the quarters, very thoughtfully. the soldiers at the upper windows of the barracks were also looking out. men and women in great numbers were collecting in the street. we went through the crowd. in the street of the capuchins, which was always deserted, burguet, who was walking with his head down, exclaimed: "so it is all over! what things have we seen in these last twenty-five years, moses! what astonishing and terrible things! and it is all over!" he took hold of my hand, and looked at me as if he were astonished at his own words; then he began to walk on. "this winter campaign has been frightful to me," said he; "it has dragged along--dragged along--and the thunder-bolt did not come! but to-morrow, the day after to-morrow, what are we going to hear? is the emperor dead? how will that affect us? will france still be france? what will they leave us? what will they take from us?" reflecting on these things, we came in front of our house. then, as if suddenly wakened, burguet said to me: "prudence, moses! if the emperor is not dead, the veterans will hold out till the last second. remember that, and whoever they suspect will have everything to fear." i thanked him, and went up, promising myself that i would follow his advice. my wife and children were waiting breakfast for me, with the little basket of potatoes upon the table. we sat down, and i told them in a low voice what was to be seen from the top of the ramparts, and charged them to keep silent, for the danger was not over; the garrison might revolt and choose to defend itself, in spite of the officers; and those who mixed themselves in these matters, either for or against, even only in words, ran the risk of destruction without profit to any one. they saw that i was right, and i had no need of saying more. we were afraid that our sergeant would come, and that we should be obliged to answer him, if he asked what we thought of these matters; but he did not come in till about eleven, when we had all been in bed for a long time. the next day the news of the entrance of the allies to paris was affixed to the church doors and the pillars of the market; it was never known by whom! m. de vablerie, and three or four other emigrants, capable of such a deed, were spoken of at the time, but nothing was known with certainty. the mounted guard tore down the placards, but unfortunately not before the soldiers and citizens had read them. it was something so new, so incredible, after those ten years of war, when the emperor had been everything, and the nation had been, so to speak, in the shadow; when not a man had dared to speak or write a word without permission; when men had had no other rights than those of paying, and giving their sons as conscripts,--it was such a great matter to think that the emperor could have been conquered, that a man like myself in the midst of his family shook his head three or four times, before daring to breathe a single word. so everybody kept quiet, notwithstanding the placards. the officials stayed at home, so as not to have to talk about it; the governor and council of defence did not stir; but the last recruits, in the hope of going home to their villages, embracing their families, and returning to their trades or farming, did not conceal their joy, as was very natural. the veterans, whose only trade and only means of living was war, were full of indignation! they did not believe a word of it; they declared that the reports were all false, that the emperor had not lost a battle, and that the placards and the cannon-firing of the allies were only a stratagem to make us open the gates. and from that time, fritz, the men began to desert, not one at a time, but by sixes, by tens, by twenties. whole posts filed off over the mountain with their arms and baggage. the veterans fired upon the deserters; they killed some of them, and were ordered to escort the conscripts who carried soup to the outposts. * * * * * during this time, the flag of truce officers did nothing but come and go, one after another. all, russian, austrian, bavarian, staff-officers stayed whole hours at the head-quarters, having, no doubt, important matters to discuss. our sergeant came to our room only for a moment in the evening, to complain of the desertions, and we were glad of it; zeffen was still sick, sorlé could not leave her, and i had to help sâfel until the people went home. the shop was always full of veterans; as soon as one set went away another came. these old, gray-headed men swallowed down glass after glass of brandy; they paid by turns, and grew more and more down-hearted. they trembled with rage, and talked of nothing but treason, while they looked at you as if they would see through you. sometimes they would smile and say: "i tell you! if it is necessary to blow up the fortress, it will go!" sâfel and i pretended not to understand; but you can imagine our agony; after having suffered all that we had, to be in danger of being blown up with those veterans! that evening our sergeant repeated word for word what the others had said: "it was all nothing but lies and treason. the emperor would put a stop to it by sweeping off this rabble!" "just wait! just wait!" he exclaimed, as he smoked his pipe, with his teeth set. "it will all be cleared up soon! the thunder-bolt is coming! and, this time, no pity, no mercy! all the villains will have to go then--all the traitors! the country will have to be cleansed for a hundred years! never mind, moses, we'll laugh!" you may well suppose that we did not feel like laughing. but the day when i was most anxious was the eighth of april, in the morning, when the decree of the senate, deposing the emperor, appeared. our shop was full of marine artillerymen and subalterns from the storehouses. we had just served them, when the secretary of the treasury, a short stout man, with full yellow cheeks, and the regulation cap over his ears, came in and called for a glass; he then took the decree from his pocket. "listen!" said he, as he began calmly to read it to the others. it seems as if i could hear it now: "whereas, napoleon bonaparte has violated the compact which bound him to the french nation, by levying taxes otherwise than in virtue of the law, by unnecessarily adjourning the legislative body, by illegally making many decrees involving sentence of death, by annulling the authority of the ministers, the independence of the judiciary, the freedom of the press, etc.; whereas, napoleon has filled up the measure of the country's misfortunes, by his abuse of all the means of war committed to him, in men and money, and by refusing to treat on conditions which the national interest required him to accept; whereas, the manifest wish of all the french demands an order of things, the first result of which shall be the re-establishment of general peace, and which shall also be the epoch of solemn reconciliation between all the states of the great european family, the senate decrees: napoleon bonaparte has forfeited the throne; the right of succession is abolished in his family; the people and the army are released from the oath of allegiance to him." he had scarcely begun to read when i thought: "if that goes on they will tear down my shop over my head." in my fright, i even sent sâfel out hastily by the back door. but it all happened very differently from what i expected. these veterans despised the senate; they shrugged their shoulders, and the one who read the decree sniffed at it, and threw it under the counter. "the senate!" said he. "what is the senate? a set of hangers-on, a set of sycophants that the emperor has bribed, right and left, to keep saying to him--'_god bless you!_'" "yes, major," said another; "but they ought to be kicked out all the same." "bah! it is not worth the trouble," replied the sergeant-major; "a fortnight hence, when the emperor is master again, they will come and lick his boots. such men are necessary in a dynasty--men who lick your boots--it has a good effect!--especially old nobility, who are paid thirty or forty thousand francs a year. they will come back, and be quiet, and the emperor will pardon them, especially since he cannot find others noble enough to fill their places." and as they all went away after emptying their glasses, i thanked heaven for having given them such confidence in the emperor. this confidence lasted till about the eleventh or twelfth of april, when some officers, sent by the general commanding the fourth military division, came to say that the garrison of metz recognized the senate and followed its orders. this was a terrible blow for our veterans. we saw, that evening, by our sergeant's face, that it was a death-blow to him. he looked ten years older, and you would have wept merely to see his face. up to that time he had kept saying: "all these decrees, all these placards are acts of treason! the emperor is down yonder with his army, all the while, and we are here to support him. don't fear, father moses!" but since the arrival of the officers from metz, he had lost his confidence. he came into our room, without speaking, and stood up, very pale, looking at us. i thought: "but this man loves us. he has been kind to us. he gave us his fresh meat all through the blockade; he loved our little david; he fondled him on his knees. he loves esdras too. he is a good, brave man, and here he is, so wretched!" i wanted to comfort him, to tell him that he had friends, that we all loved him, that we would make sacrifices to help him, if he had to change his employment; yes, i thought of all this, but as i looked at him his grief seemed so terrible that i could not say a word. he took two or three turns and stopped again, then suddenly went out. his sorrow was too great, he would not even speak of it. at length, on the sixteenth of april, an armistice was concluded for burying the dead. the bridge of the german gate was lowered, and large numbers of people went out and stayed till evening, to dig the ground a little with their spades, and try to bring back a few green things. zeffen being all this time sick, we stayed at home. that evening two new officers from metz, sent as envoys, came in at night as the bridges were being raised. they galloped along the street to the headquarters. i saw them pass. the arrival of these officers greatly excited the hopes and fears of every one; important measures were expected, and all night long we heard the sergeant walk to and fro in his room, get up, walk about, and lie down again, talking confusedly to himself. the poor man felt that a dreadful blow was coming, and he had not a minute's rest. i heard him lamenting, and his sighs kept me from sleeping. the next morning at ten the assembly was beat. the governor and the members of the council of defence went, in full dress, to the infantry quarters. everybody in the city was at the windows. our sergeant went down, and i followed him in a few minutes. the street was thronged with people. i made my way through the crowd; everybody kept his place in it, trying to move on. when i came in front of the barracks, the companies had just formed in a circle; the quarter-masters in the midst were reading in a loud voice the order of the day; it was the abdication of the emperor, the disbanding of the recruits of and , the recognition of louis xviii., the order to set up the white flag and change the cockade! not a murmur was heard from the ranks; all was quiet, terrible, frightful! those old soldiers, their teeth set, their mustaches shaking, their brows scowling fiercely, presenting arms in silence; the voices of the quartermasters stopping now and then as if choking; the staff-officers of the place, at a distance under the arch, sullen, with their eyes on the ground; the eager attention of all that crowd of men, women, and children, through the whole length of the street, leaning forward on tiptoe, with open mouths and listening ears; all this, fritz, would have made you tremble. i was on cooper schweyer's steps, where i could see everything and hear every word. so long as the order of the day was read, nobody stirred; but at the command:--break ranks! a terrible cry arose from all directions; tumult, confusion, fury burst forth at once. people did not know what they were doing. the conscripts ran in files to the postern gates, the old soldiers stood a moment, as if rooted to the spot, then their rage broke forth; one tore off his epaulettes, another dashed his musket with both hands against the pavement; some officers doubled up their sabres and swords, which snapped apart with a crash. the governor tried to speak; he tried to form the ranks again, but nobody heard him; the new recruits were already in all the rooms at the barracks, making up their bundles to start on their journey; the old ones were going to the right and left, as if they were drunk or mad. i saw some of these old soldiers stop in a corner, lean their heads against the wall, and weep bitterly. at last all were dispersed, and protracted cries reached from the barracks to the square, incessant cries, which rose and fell like sighs. some low, despairing shouts of "_vive l'empereur!_" but not a single shout of "_vive le roi!_" for my part, i ran home to tell about it all; i had scarcely gone up, when the sergeant came also, with his musket on his shoulder. we should have liked to congratulate each other on the ending of the blockade, but on seeing the sergeant standing at the door, we were chilled to the bones, and our attention was fixed upon him. "ah, well!" said he, placing the butt-end of his musket upon the floor, "it is all ended!" and for a moment he said no more. then he stammered out: "this is the shabbiest piece of business in the world--the recruits are disbanded--they are leaving--france remains, bound hand and foot, in the grip of the kaiserlichs! ah! the rascals! the rascals!" "yes, sergeant," i replied with emotion, seeing that his thoughts must be diverted: "now we are going to have peace, sergeant! you have a sister left in the jura, you will go to her----" "oh!" he exclaimed, lifting his hand, "my poor sister!" this came like a sob; but he quickly recovered himself, and went and placed his musket in the corner by the door. he sat down at the table with us for a moment, and took up little sâfel, drawing him to him and caressing his cheeks. then he wanted to hold esdras also. we looked on in silence. "i am going to leave you, father moses," said he, "i am going to pack my bag. thunder and lightning! i am sorry to leave you!" "and we are sorry, too, sergeant," said sorlé,. mournfully; "but if you will live with us----" "it is impossible!" "then you remain in the service?" "service of whom--of what?" said he; "of louis xviii.? no! no! i know no one but my general--but that makes it hard to go--when a man has done his duty----" he started up, and shouted in a piercing voice: "_vive l'empereur!_" we trembled, we did not know why. i reached out my hand to him, and rose; we embraced each other like brothers. "good-by, father moses," said he, "good-by for a long while." "you are going at once, then?" "yes!" "you know, sergeant, that you will always have friends here. you will come and see us. if you need anything----" "yes, yes, i know it. you are true friends--excellent people!" he shook my hand vehemently. then he took up his musket, and we were all following him, expressing our good wishes, when he turned, with tears in his eyes, and embraced my wife, saying: "i must embrace you, too; there is no harm in it, is there, madame sorlé?" "oh, no!" said she, "you are one of the family, and i will embrace zeffen for you!" he went out at once, exclaiming in a hoarse voice, "good-by! farewell!" i saw him go into his room at the end of the little passage. twenty-five years of service, eight wounds, and no bread in his old age! my heart bled at the thought of it. about a quarter of an hour after, the sergeant came down with his musket. meeting sâfel on the stairs, he said to him, "stay, that is for your father!" it was the portrait of the landwehr's wife and children. sâfel brought it to me at once. i took the poor devil's gift, and looked at it for a long time, very sadly; then i shut it up in the closet with the letter. it was noon, and, as the gates were about to be opened, and abundance of provisions were to come, we sat down before a large piece of boiled beef, with a dish of potatoes, and opened a good bottle of wine. we were still eating when we heard shouts in the street. sâfel got up to look out. "a wounded soldier that they are carrying to the hospital!" said he. then he exclaimed, "it is our sergeant!" a horrible thought ran through my mind. "keep still!" i said to sorlé, who was getting up, and i went down alone. four marine gunners were carrying the litter by on their shoulders; children were running behind. at the first glance i recognized the sergeant; his face perfectly white and his breast covered with blood. he did not move. the poor fellow had gone from our house to the bastion behind the arsenal, to shoot himself through the heart. i went up so overwhelmed, so sad and sorrowful, that i could scarcely stand. sorlé was waiting for me in great agitation. "our poor sergeant has killed himself," said i; "may god forgive him!" and, sitting down, i could not help bursting into tears! xxi it is said with truth that misfortunes never come singly; one brings another in its train. the death of our good sergeant was, however, the last. that same day the enemy withdrew his outposts to six hundred yards from the city, the white flag was raised on the church, and the gates were opened. now, fritz, you know about our blockade. should i tell you, in addition, about baruch's coming, of zeffen's cries, and the groanings of us all, when we had to say to the good man: "our little david is dead--thou wilt never see him again!" no, it is enough! if we were to speak of all the miseries of war, and all their consequences in after years, there would be no end! i would rather tell you of my sons itzig and frômel, and of my sâfel, who has gone to join them in america. if i should tell you of all the wealth they have acquired in that great country of freemen, of the lands they have bought, the money they have laid up, the number of grandchildren they have given me, and of all the blessings they have heaped upon sorlé and myself, you would be full of astonishment and admiration. they have never allowed me to want for anything. the greatest pleasure i can give them is to wish for something; each of them wants to send it to me! they do not forget that by my prudent foresight i saved them from the war. i love them all alike, fritz, and i say of them, like jacob: "may the god of abraham and isaac, our fathers, the god which fed me all my life long unto this day, bless the lads; let them grow into a multitude in the midst of the earth, and their seed become a multitude of nations!" this ebook was produced by david widger corrected and updated text and html pg editions of the complete volume set may be found at: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ s/ .txt http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm leila or, the siege of granada by edward bulwer lytton book v. chapter i. the great battle. the day slowly dawned upon that awful night; and the moors, still upon the battlements of granada, beheld the whole army of ferdinand on its march towards their wails. at a distance lay the wrecks of the blackened and smouldering camp; while before them, gaudy and glittering pennons waving, and trumpets sounding, came the exultant legions of the foe. the moors could scarcely believe their senses. fondly anticipating the retreat of the christians, after so signal a disaster, the gay and dazzling spectacle of their march to the assault filled them with consternation and alarm. while yet wondering and inactive, the trumpet of boabdil was heard behind; and they beheld the moorish king, at the head of his guards, emerging down the avenues that led to the gate. the sight restored and exhilarated the gazers; and, when boabdil halted in the space before the portals, the shout of twenty thousand warriors rose ominously to the ears of the advancing christians. "men of granada!" said boabdil, as soon as the deep and breathless silence had succeeded to that martial acclamation,--"the advance of the enemy is to their destruction! in the fire of last night the hand of allah wrote their doom. let us forth, each and all! we will leave our homes unguarded--our hearts shall be their wall! true, that our numbers are thinned by famine and by slaughter, but enough of us are yet left for the redemption of granada. nor are the dead departed from us: the dead fight with us--their souls animate our own. he who has lost a brother, becomes twice a man. on this battle we will set all. liberty or chains! empire or exile! victory or death! forward!" he spoke, and gave the rein to his barb. it bounded forward, and cleared the gloomy arch of the portals, and boabdil el chico was the first moor who issued from granada, to that last and eventful field. out, then, poured, as a river that rushes from caverns into day, the burnished and serried files of the moorish cavalry. muza came the last, closing the array. upon his dark and stern countenance there spoke not the ardent enthusiasm of the sanguine king. it was locked and rigid; and the anxieties of the last dismal weeks had thinned his cheeks, and ploughed deep lines around the firm lips and iron jaw which bespoke the obstinate and unconquerable resolution of his character. as muza now spurred forward, and, riding along the wheeling ranks, marshalled them in order, arose the acclamation of female voices; and the warriors, who looked back at the sound, saw that their women--their wives and daughters, their mothers and their beloved (released from their seclusion, by a policy which bespoke the desperation of the cause)--were gazing at them, with outstretched arms, from the battlements and towers. the moors knew that they were now to fight for their hearths and altars in the presence of those who, if they failed, became slaves and harlots; and each moslem felt his heart harden like the steel of his own sabre. while the cavalry formed themselves into regular squadrons, and the tramp of the foemen came more near and near, the moorish infantry, in miscellaneous, eager, and undisciplined bands, poured out, until, spreading wide and deep below the walls, boabdil's charger was seen, rapidly careering amongst them, as, in short but distinct directions, or fiery adjurations, he sought at once to regulate their movements, and confirm their hot but capricious valour. meanwhile the christians had abruptly halted; and the politic ferdinand resolved not to incur the full brunt of a whole population, in the first flush of their enthusiasm and despair. he summoned to his side hernando del pulgar, and bade him, with a troop of the most adventurous and practised horsemen, advance towards the moorish cavalry, and endeavour to draw the fiery valour of muza away from the main army. then, splitting up his force into several sections, he dismissed each to different stations; some to storm the adjacent towers, others to fire the surrounding gardens and orchards; so that the action might consist rather of many battles than of one, and the moors might lose the concentration and union, which made, at present, their most formidable strength. thus, while the mussulmans were waiting in order for the attack, they suddenly beheld the main body of the christians dispersing, and, while yet in surprise and perplexed, they saw the fires breaking out from their delicious gardens, to the right and left of the walls, and hear the boom of the christian artillery against the scattered bulwarks that guarded the approaches of that city. at that moment a cloud of dust rolled rapidly towards the post occupied in the van by muza, and the shock of the christian knights, in their mighty mail, broke upon the centre of the prince's squadron. higher, by several inches, than the plumage of his companions, waved the crest of the gigantic del pulgar; and, as moor after moor went down before his headlong lance, his voice, sounding deep and sepulchral through his visor, shouted out--"death to the infidel!" the rapid and dexterous horsemen of granada were not, however, discomfited by this fierce assault: opening their ranks with extraordinary celerity, they suffered the charge to pass comparatively harmless through their centre, and then, closing in one long and bristling line, cut off the knights from retreat. the christians wheeled round, and charged again upon their foe. "where art thou, o moslem dog! that wouldst play the lion'?--where art thou, muza ben abil gazan'?" "before thee, christian!" cried a stern and clear voice; and from amongst the helmets of his people, gleamed the dazzling turban of the moor. hernando checked his steed, gazed a moment at his foe, turned back, for greater impetus to his charge, and, in a moment more, the bravest warriors of the two armies met, lance to lance. the round shield of muza received the christian's weapon; his own spear shivered, harmless, upon the breast of the giant. he drew his sword, whirled it rapidly over his head, and, for some minutes, the eyes of the bystanders could scarcely mark the marvellous rapidity with which strokes were given and parried by those redoubted swordsmen. at length, hernando, anxious to bring to bear his superior strength, spurred close to muza; and, leaving his sword pendant by a thong to his wrist, seized the shield of muza in his formidable grasp, and plucked it away, with a force that the moor vainly endeavoured to resist: muza, therefore, suddenly released his bold; and, ere the spaniard had recovered his balance (which was lost by the success of his own strength, put forth to the utmost), he dashed upon him the hoofs of his black charger, and with a short but heavy mace, which he caught up from the saddlebow, dealt hernando so thundering a blow upon the helmet, that the giant fell to the ground, stunned and senseless. to dismount, to repossess himself of his shield, to resume his sabre, to put one knee to the breast of his fallen foe, was the work of a moment; and then had don hernando del pulgar been sped, without priest or surgeon, but that, alarmed by the peril of their most valiant comrade, twenty knights spurred at once to the rescue, and the points of twenty lances kept the lion of granada from his prey. thither, with similar speed, rushed the moorish champions; and the fight became close and deadly round the body of the still unconscious christian. not an instant of leisure to unlace the helmet of hernando, by removing which, alone, the moorish blade could find a mortal place, was permitted to muza; and, what with the spears and trampling hoofs around him, the situation of the paynim was more dangerous than that of the christian. meanwhile, hernando recovered his dizzy senses; and, made aware of his state, watched his occasion, and suddenly shook off the knee of the moor. with another effort he was on his feet and the two champions stood confronting each other, neither very eager to renew the combat. but on foot, muza, daring and rash as he was, could not but recognise his disadvantage against the enormous strength and impenetrable armour of the christian. he drew back, whistled to his barb, that, piercing the ranks of the horsemen, was by his side on the instant, remounted, and was in the midst of the foe, almost ere the slower spaniard was conscious of his disappearance. but hernando was not delivered from his enemy. clearing a space around him, as three knights, mortally wounded, fell beneath his sabre, muza now drew from behind his shoulder his short arabian bow, and shaft after shaft came rattling upon the mail of the dismounted christian with so marvellous a celerity, that, encumbered as he was with his heavy accoutrements, he was unable either to escape from the spot, or ward off that arrowy rain; and felt that nothing but chance, or our lady, could prevent the death which one such arrow would occasion, if it should find the opening of the visor, or the joints of the hauberk. "mother of mercy," groaned the knight, perplexed and enraged, "let not thy servant be shot down like a hart, by this cowardly warfare; but, if i must fall, be it with mine enemy, grappling hand to hand." while yet muttering this short invocation, the war-cry of spain was heard hard by, and the gallant company of villena was seen scouring across the plain to the succour of their comrades. the deadly attention of muza was distracted from individual foes, however eminent; he wheeled round, re-collected his men, and, in a serried charge, met the new enemy in midway. while the contest thus fared in that part of the field, the scheme of ferdinand had succeeded so far as to break up the battle in detached sections. far and near, plain, grove, garden, tower, presented each the scene of obstinate and determined conflict. boabdil, at the head of his chosen guard, the flower of the haughtier tribe of nobles who were jealous of the fame and blood of the tribe of muza, and followed also by his gigantic ethiopians, exposed his person to every peril, with the desperate valour of a man who feels his own stake is greatest in the field. as he most distrusted the infantry, so amongst the infantry he chiefly bestowed his presence; and wherever he appeared, he sufficed, for the moment, to turn the changes of the engagement. at length, at mid-day ponce de leon led against the largest detachment of the moorish foot a strong and numerous battalion of the best-disciplined and veteran soldiery of spain. he had succeeded in winning a fortress, from which his artillery could play with effect; and the troops he led were composed, partly of men flushed with recent triumph, and partly of a fresh reserve, now first brought into the field. a comely and a breathless spectacle it was to behold this christian squadron emerging from a blazing copse, which they fired on their march; the red light gleaming on their complete armour, as, in steady and solemn order, they swept on to the swaying and clamorous ranks of the moorish infantry. boabdil learned the danger from his scouts; and hastily quitting a tower from which he had for a while repulsed a hostile legion, he threw himself into the midst of the battalions menaced by the skilful ponce de leon. almost at the same moment, the wild and ominous apparition of almamen, long absent from the eyes of the moors, appeared in the same quarter, so suddenly and unexpectedly, that none knew whence he had emerged; the sacred standard in his left hand--his sabre, bared and dripping gore, in his right--his face exposed, and its powerful features working with an excitement that seemed inspired; his abrupt presence breathed a new soul into the moors. "they come! they come!" he shrieked aloud. "the god of the east hath delivered the goth into your hands!" from rank to rank--from line to line--sped the santon; and, as the mystic banner gleamed before the soldiery, each closed his eyes and muttered an "amen" to his adjurations. and now, to the cry of "spain and st. iago," came trampling down the relentless charge of the christian war. at the same instant, from the fortress lately taken by ponce de leon, the artillery opened upon the moors, and did deadly havoc. the moslems wavered a moment when before them gleamed the white banner of almamen; and they beheld him rushing, alone and on foot, amidst the foe. taught to believe the war itself depended on the preservation of the enchanted banner, the paynims could not see it thus rashly adventured without anxiety and shame: they rallied, advanced firmly, and boabdil himself, with waving cimiter and fierce exclamations, dashed impetuously at the head of his guards and ethiopians into the affray. the battle became obstinate and bloody. thrice the white banner disappeared amidst the closing ranks; and thrice, like a moon from the clouds, it shone forth again--the light and guide of the pagan power. the day ripened; and the hills already cast lengthening shadows over the blazing groves and the still darro, whose waters, in every creek where the tide was arrested, ran red with blood, when ferdinand, collecting his whole reserve, descended from the eminence on which hitherto he had posted himself. with him moved three thousand foot and a thousand horse, fresh in their vigour, and panting for a share in that glorious day. the king himself, who, though constitutionally fearless, from motives of policy rarely perilled his person, save on imminent occasions, was resolved not to be outdone by boabdil; and armed cap-a-pied in mail, so wrought with gold that it seemed nearly all of that costly metal, with his snow-white plumage waving above a small diadem that surmounted his lofty helm, he seemed a fit leader to that armament of heroes. behind him flaunted the great gonfanon of spain, and trump and cymbal heralded his approach. the count de tendilla rode by his side. "senor," said ferdinand, "the infidels fight hard; but they are in the snare--we are about to close the nets upon them. but what cavalcade is this?" the group that thus drew the king's attention consisted of six squires, bearing, on a martial litter, composed of shields, the stalwart form of hernando del pulgar. "ah, the dogs!" cried the king, as he recognised the pale features of the darling of the army,--"have they murdered the bravest knight that ever fought for christendom?" "not that, your majesty," quoth he of the exploits, faintly, "but i am sorely stricken." "it must have been more than man who struck thee down," said the king. "it was the mace of muza ben abil gazan, an please you, sire," said one of the squires; "but it came on the good knight unawares, and long after his own arm had seemingly driven away the pagan." "we will avenge thee well," said the king, setting his teeth: "let our own leeches tend thy wounds. forward, sir knights! st. iago and spain!" the battle had now gathered to a vortex; muza and his cavalry had joined boabdil and the moorish foot. on the other hand, villena had been reinforced by detachments that in almost every other quarter of the field had routed the foe. the moors had been driven back, though inch by inch; they were now in the broad space before the very walls of the city, which were still crowded by the pale and anxious faces of the aged and the women: and, at every pause in the artillery, the voices that spoke of home were borne by that lurid air to the ears of the infidels. the shout that rang through the christian force as ferdinand now joined it struck like a death-knell upon the last hope of boabdil. but the blood of his fierce ancestry burned in his veins, and the cheering voice of almamen, whom nothing daunted, inspired him with a kind of superstitious frenzy. "king against king--so be it! let allah decide between us!" cried the moorish monarch. "bind up this wound 'tis well! a steed for the santon! now, my prophet and my friend, mount by the side of thy king--let us, at least, fall together. lelilies! lelilies!" throughout the brave christian ranks went a thrill of reluctant admiration, as they beheld the paynim king, conspicuous by his fair beard and the jewels of his harness, lead the scanty guard yet left to him once more into the thickest of their lines. simultaneously muza and his zegris made their fiery charge; and the moorish infantry, excited by the example of their leaders, followed with unslackened and dogged zeal. the christians gave way--they were beaten back: ferdinand spurred forward; and, ere either party were well aware of it, both kings met in the same melee: all order and discipline, for the moment, lost, general and monarch were, as common soldiers, fighting hand to hand. it was then that ferdinand, after bearing down before his lance naim reduon, second only to muza in the songs of granada, beheld opposed to him a strange form, that seemed to that royal christian rather fiend than man: his raven hair and beard, clotted with blood, hung like snakes about a countenance whose features, naturally formed to give expression to the darkest passions, were distorted with the madness of despairing rage. wounded in many places, the blood dabbled his mail; while, over his head, he waved the banner wrought with mystic characters, which ferdinand had already been taught to believe the workmanship of demons. "now, perjured king of the nazarenes!" shouted this formidable champion, "we meet at last!--no longer host and guest, monarch and dervise, but man to man! i am almamen! die!" he spoke; and his sword descended so fiercely on that anointed head that ferdinand bent to his saddle-bow. but the king quickly recovered his seat, and gallantly met the encounter; it was one that might have tasked to the utmost the prowess of his bravest knight. passions which, in their number, their nature, and their excess, animated no other champion on either side, gave to the arm of almamen the israelite a preternatural strength; his blows fell like rain upon the harness of the king; and the fiery eyes, the gleaming banner of the mysterious sorcerer, who had eluded the tortures of his inquisition,--who had walked unscathed through the midst of his army,--whose single hand had consumed the encampment of a host, filled the stout heart of a king with a belief that he encountered no earthly foe. fortunately, perhaps, for ferdinand and spain, the contest did not last long. twenty horsemen spurred into the melee to the rescue of the plumed diadem: tendilla arrived the first; with a stroke of his two-handed sword, the white banner was cleft from its staff, and fell to the earth. at that sight the moors round broke forth in a wild and despairing cry: that cry spread from rank to rank, from horse to foot; the moorish infantry, sorely pressed on all sides, no sooner learned the disaster than they turned to fly: the rout was as fatal as it was sudden. the christian reserve, just brought into the field, poured down upon them with a simultaneous charge. boabdil, too much engaged to be the first to learn the downfall of the sacred insignia, suddenly saw himself almost alone, with his diminished ethiopians and a handful of his cavaliers. "yield thee, boabdil el chico!" cried tendilla, from his rear, "or thou canst not be saved." "by the prophet, never!" exclaimed the king: and he dashed his barb against the wall of spears behind him; and with but a score or so of his guard, cut his way through the ranks that were not unwilling, perhaps, to spare so brave a foe. as he cleared the spanish battalions, the unfortunate monarch checked his horse for a moment and gazed along the plain: he beheld his army flying in all directions, save in that single spot where yet glittered the turban of muza ben abil gazan. as he gazed, he heard the panting nostrils of the chargers behind, and saw the levelled spears of a company despatched to take him, alive or dead, by the command of ferdinand. he laid the reins upon his horse's neck and galloped into the city--three lances quivered against the portals as he disappeared through the shadows of the arch. but while muza remained, all was not yet lost: he perceived the flight of the infantry and the king, and with his followers galloped across the plain: he came in time to encounter and slay, to a man, the pursuers of boabdil; he then threw himself before the flying moors: "do ye fly in the sight of your wives and daughters? would ye not rather they beheld ye die?" a thousand voices answered him. "the banner is in the hands of the infidel--all is lost!" they swept by him, and stopped not till they gained the gates. but still a small and devoted remnant of the moorish cavaliers remained to shed a last glory over defeat itself. with muza, their soul and centre, they fought every atom of ground: it was, as the chronicler expresses it, as if they grasped the soil with their arms. twice they charged into the midst of the foe: the slaughter they made doubled their own number; but, gathering on and closing in, squadron upon squadron, came the whole christian army--they were encompassed, wearied out, beaten back, as by an ocean. like wild beasts, driven, at length, to their lair, they retreated with their faces to the foe; and when muza came, the last--his cimiter shivered to the hilt,--he had scarcely breath to command the gates to be closed and the portcullis lowered, ere he fell from his charger in a sudden and deadly swoon, caused less by his exhaustion than his agony and shame. so ended the last battle fought for the monarchy of granada! chapter ii. the novice. it was in one of the cells of a convent renowned for the piety of its inmates and the wholesome austerity of its laws that a young novice sat alone. the narrow casement was placed so high in the cold grey wall as to forbid to the tenant of the cell the solace of sad or the distraction of pious thoughts, which a view of the world without might afford. lovely, indeed, was the landscape that spread below; but it was barred from those youthful and melancholy eyes: for nature might tempt to a thousand thoughts, not of a tenor calculated to reconcile the heart to an eternal sacrifice of the sweet human ties. but a faint and partial gleam of sunshine broke through the aperture and made yet more cheerless the dreary aspect and gloomy appurtenances of the cell. and the young novice seemed to carry on within herself that struggle of emotions without which there is no victory in the resolves of virtue: sometimes she wept bitterly, but with a low, subdued sorrow, which spoke rather of despondency than passion; sometimes she raised her head from her breast, and smiled as she looked upward, or as her eyes rested on the crucifix and the death's head that were placed on the rude table by the pallet on which she sat. they were emblems of death here, and life hereafter, which, perhaps, afforded to her the sources of a twofold consolation. she was yet musing, when a slight tap at the door was heard, and the abbess of the convent appeared. "daughter," said she, "i have brought thee the comfort of a sacred visitor. the queen of spain, whose pious tenderness is maternally anxious for thy full contentment with thy lot, has sent hither a holy friar, whom she deems more soothing in his counsels than our brother tomas, whose ardent zeal often terrifies those whom his honest spirit only desires to purify and guide. i will leave him with thee. may the saints bless his ministry!" so saying the abbess retired from the threshold, making way for a form in the garb of a monk, with the hood drawn over the face. the monk bowed his head meekly, advanced into the cell, closed the door, and seated himself, on a stool--which, save the table and the pallet, seemed the sole furniture of the dismal chamber. "daughter," said he, after a pause, "it is a rugged and a mournful lot this renunciation of earth and all its fair destinies and soft affections, to one not wholly prepared and armed for the sacrifice. confide in me, my child; i am no dire inquisitor, seeking to distort thy words to thine own peril. i am no bitter and morose ascetic. beneath these robes still beats a human heart that can sympathise with human sorrows. confide in me without fear. dost thou not dread the fate they would force upon thee? dost thou not shrink back? wouldst thou not be free?" "no," said the poor novice; but the denial came faint and irresolute from her lips. "pause," said the friar, growing more earnest in his tone: "pause--there is yet time." "nay," said the novice, looking up with some surprise in her countenance; "nay, even were i so weak, escape now is impossible. what hand could unbar the gates of the convent?" "mine!" cried the monk, with impetuosity. "yes, i have that power. in all spain, but one man can save thee, and i am he." "you!" faltered the novice, gazing at her strange visitor with mingled astonishment and alarm. "and who are you that could resist the fiat of that tomas de torquemada, before whom, they tell me, even the crowned heads of castile and arragon veil low?" the monk half rose, with an impatient and almost haughty start, at this interrogatory; but, reseating himself, replied, in a deep and half- whispered voice "daughter, listen to me! it is true, that isabel of spain (whom the mother of mercy bless! for merciful to all is her secret heart, if not her outward policy)--it is true that isabel of spain, fearful that the path to heaven might be made rougher to thy feet than it well need be (there was a slight accent of irony in the monk's voice as he thus spoke), selected a friar of suasive eloquence and gentle manners to visit thee. he was charged with letters to yon abbess from the queen. soft though the friar, he was yet a hypocrite. nay, hear me out! he loved to worship the rising sun; and he did not wish always to remain a simple friar, while the church had higher dignities of this earth to bestow. in the christian camp, daughter, there was one who burned for tidings of thee,--whom thine image haunted--who, stern as thou wert to him, loved thee with a love he knew not of, till thou wert lost to him. why dost thou tremble, daughter? listen, yet! to that lover, for he was one of high birth, came the monk; to that lover the monk sold his mission. the monk will have a ready tale, that he was waylaid amidst the mountains by armed men, and robbed of his letters to the abbess. the lover took his garb, and he took the letters; and he hastened hither. leila! beloved leila! behold him at thy feet!" the monk raised his cowl; and, dropping on his knee beside her, presented to her gaze the features of the prince of spain. "you!" said leila, averting her countenance, and vainly endeavouring to extricate the hand which he had seized. "this is indeed cruel. you, the author of so many sufferings--such calumny--such reproach!" "i will repair all," said don juan, fervently. "i alone, i repeat it, have the power to set you free. you are no longer a jewess; you are one of our faith; there is now no bar upon our loves. imperious though my father,--all dark and dread as is this new power which he is rashly erecting in his dominions, the heir of two monarchies is not so poor in influence and in friends as to be unable to offer the woman of his love an inviolable shelter alike from priest and despot. fly with me!--quit this dreary sepulchre ere the last stone close over thee for ever! i have horses, i have guards at hand. this night it can be arranged. this night--oh, bliss!--thou mayest be rendered up to earth and love!" "prince," said leila, who had drawn herself from juan's grasp during this address, and who now stood at a little distance erect and proud, "you tempt me in vain; or, rather you offer me no temptation. i have made my choice; i abide by it." "oh! bethink thee," said the prince, in a voice of real and imploring anguish; "bethink thee well of the consequences of thy refusal. thou canst not see them yet; thine ardour blinds thee. but, when hour after hour, day after day, year after year, steals on in the appalling monotony of this sanctified prison; when thou shalt see thy youth--withering without love--thine age without honour; when thy heart shall grow as stone within thee, beneath the looks of you icy spectres; when nothing shall vary the aching dulness of wasted life save a longer fast or a severer penance: then, then will thy grief be rendered tenfold by the despairing and remorseful thought, that thine own lips sealed thine own sentence. thou mayest think," continued juan, with rapid eagerness, "that my love to thee was at first light and dishonouring. be it so. i own that my youth has passed in idle wooings, and the mockeries of affection. but for the first time in my life i feel that--i love. thy dark eyes--thy noble beauty--even thy womanly scorn, have fascinated me. i--never yet disdained where i have been a suitor--acknowledge, at last, that there is a triumph in the conquest of a woman's heart. oh, leila! do not--do not reject me. you know not how rare and how deep a love you cast away." the novice was touched: the present language of don juan was so different from what it had been before; the earnest love that breathed in his voice--that looked from his eyes, struck a chord in her breast; it reminded her of her own unconquered, unconquerable love for the lost muza. she was touched, then--touched to tears; but her resolves were not shaken. "oh, leila!" resumed the prince, fondly, mistaking the nature of her emotion, and seeking to pursue the advantage he imagined he had gained, "look at yonder sunbeam, struggling through the loophole of thy cell. is it not a messenger from the happy world? does it not plead for me? does it not whisper to thee of the green fields and the laughing vineyards, and all the beautiful prodigality of that earth thou art about to renounce for ever? dost thou dread my love? are the forms around thee, ascetic and lifeless, fairer to thine eyes than mine? dost thou doubt my power to protect thee? i tell thee that the proudest nobles of spain would flock around my banner, were it necessary to guard thee by force of arms. yet, speak the word--be mine--and i will fly hence with thee to climes where the church has not cast out its deadly roots, and, forgetful of crowns and cares, live alone for thee: ah, speak!" "my lord," said leila, calmly, and rousing herself to the necessary effort, "i am deeply and sincerely grateful for the interest you express --for the affection you avow. but you deceive yourself. i have pondered well over the alternative i have taken. i do not regret nor repent--much less would i retract it. the earth that you speak of, full of affections and of bliss to others, has no ties, no allurements for me. i desire only peace, repose, and an early death." "can it be possible," said the prince, growing pale, "that thou lovest another? then, indeed, and then only, would my wooing be in vain." the cheek of the novice grew deeply flushed, but the color soon subsided; she murmured to herself, "why should i blush to own it now?" and then spoke aloud: "prince, i trust i have done with the world; and bitter the pang i feel when you call me back to it. but you merit my candour; i have loved another; and in that thought, as in an urn, lie the ashes of all affection. that other is of a different faith. we may never--never meet again below, but it is a solace to pray that we may meet above. that solace, and these cloisters, are dearer to me than all the pomp, all the pleasures, of the world." the prince sank down, and, covering his face with his hands, groaned aloud--but made no reply. "go, then, prince of spain," continued the novice; "son of the noble isabel, leila is not unworthy of her cares. go, and pursue the great destinies that await you. and if you forgive--if you still cherish a thought of--the poor jewish maiden, soften, alleviate, mitigate, the wretched and desperate doom that awaits the fallen race she has abandoned for thy creed." "alas, alas!" said the prince, mournfully; "thee alone, perchance, of all thy race, i could have saved from the bigotry that is fast covering this knightly land like the rising of an irresistible sea--and thou rejectest me! take time, at least, to pause--to consider. let me see thee again tomorrow." "no, prince, no--not again! i will keep thy secret only if i see thee no more. if thou persist in a suit that i feel to be that of sin and shame, then, indeed, mine honour--" "hold!" interrupted juan, with haughty impatience, "i torment, i harass you no more. i release you from my importunity. perhaps already i have stooped too low." he drew the cowl over his features, and strode sullenly to the door; but, turning for one last gaze on the form that had so strangely fascinated a heart capable of generous emotions, the meek and despondent posture of the novice, her tender youth, her gloomy fate, melted his momentary pride and resentment. "god bless and reconcile thee, poor child!" he said, in a voice choked with contending passions-- and the door closed upon his form. "i thank thee, heaven, that it was not muza!" muttered leila, breaking from a reverie in which she seemed to be communing with her own soul: "i feel that i could not have resisted him." with that thought she knelt down, in humble and penitent self-reproach, and prayed for strength. ere she had risen from her supplications, her solitude was again invaded by torquemada, the dominican. this strange man, though the author of cruelties at which nature recoils, had some veins of warm and gentle feeling streaking, as it were, the marble of his hard character; and when he had thoroughly convinced himself of the pure and earnest zeal of the young convert, he relaxed from the grim sternness he had at first exhibited towards her. he loved to exert the eloquence he possessed, in raising her spirit, in reconciling her doubts. he prayed for her, and he prayed beside her, with passion and with tears. he stayed long with the novice; and, when he left her, she was, if not happy, at least contented. her warmest wish now was to abridge the period of her novitiate, which, at her desire, the church had already rendered merely a nominal probation. she longed to put irresolution out of her power, and to enter at once upon the narrow road through the strait gate. the gentle and modest piety of the young novice touched the sisterhood; she was endeared to all of them. her conversion was an event that broke the lethargy of their stagnant life. she became an object of general interest, of avowed pride, of kindly compassion; and their kindness to her, who from her cradle had seen little of her own sex, had a great effect towards calming and soothing her mind. but, at night, her dreams brought before her the dark and menacing countenance of her father. sometimes he seemed to pluck her from the gates of heaven, and to sink with her into the yawning abyss below. sometimes she saw him with her beside the altar, but imploring her to forswear the saviour, before whose crucifix she knelt. occasionally her visions were haunted, also, with muza--but in less terrible guise she saw his calm and melancholy eyes fixed upon her; and his voice asked, "canst thou take a vow that makes it sinful to remember me?" the night, that usually brings balm and oblivion to the sad, was thus made more dreadful to leila than the day. her health grew feebler, and feebler, but her mind still was firm. in happier time and circumstance that poor novice would have been a great character; but she was one of the countless victims the world knows not of, whose virtues are in silent motives, whose struggles are in the solitary heart. of the prince she heard and saw no more. there were times when she fancied, from oblique and obscure hints, that the dominican had been aware of don juan's disguise and visit. but, if so, that knowledge appeared only to increase the gentleness, almost the respect, which torquemada manifested towards her. certainly, since that day, from some cause or other the priest's manner had been softened when he addressed her; and he who seldom had recourse to other arts than those of censure and of menace, often uttered sentiments half of pity and half of praise. thus consoled and supported in the day,--thus haunted and terrified by night, but still not repenting her resolve, leila saw the time glide on to that eventful day when her lips were to pronounce that irrevocable vow which is the epitaph of life. while in this obscure and remote convent progressed the history of an individual, we are summoned back to witness the crowning fate of an expiring dynasty. chapter iii. the pause between defeat and surrender. the unfortunate boabdil plunged once more amidst the recesses of the alhambra. whatever his anguish or his despondency, none were permitted to share, or even to witness, his emotions. but he especially resisted the admission to his solitude, demanded by his mother, implored by his faithful amine, and sorrowfully urged by muza: those most loved, or most respected, were, above all, the persons from whom he most shrank. almamen was heard of no more. it was believed that he had perished in the battle. but he was one of those who, precisely as they are effective when present, are forgotten in absence. and, in the meanwhile, as the vega was utterly desolated, and all supplies were cut off, famine, daily made more terrifically severe, diverted the attention of each humbler moor from the fall of the city to his individual sufferings. new persecutions fell upon the miserable jews. not having taken any share in the conflict (as was to be expected from men who had no stake in the country which they dwelt in, and whose brethren had been taught so severe a lesson upon the folly of interference), no sentiment of fellowship in danger mitigated the hatred and loathing with which they were held; and as, in their lust of gain, many of them continued, amidst the agony and starvation of the citizens, to sell food at enormous prices, the excitement of the multitude against them--released by the state of the city from all restraint and law--made itself felt by the most barbarous excesses. many of the houses of the israelites were attacked by the mob, plundered, razed to the ground, and the owner tortured to death, to extort confession of imaginary wealth. not to sell what was demanded was a crime; to sell it was a crime also. these miserable outcasts fled to whatever secret places the vaults of their houses or the caverns in the hills within the city could yet afford them, cursing their fate, and almost longing even for the yoke of the christian bigots. thus passed several days; the defence of the city abandoned to its naked walls and mighty gates. the glaring sun looked down upon closed shops and depopulated streets, save when some ghostly and skeleton band of the famished poor collected, in a sudden paroxysm of revenge or despair, around the stormed and fired mansion of a detested israelite. at length boabdil aroused himself from his seclusion; and muza, to his own surprise, was summoned to the presence of the king. he found boabdil in one of the most gorgeous halls of his gorgeous palace. within the tower of comares is a vast chamber, still called the hall of the ambassadors. here it was that boabdil now held his court. on the glowing walls hung trophies and banners, and here and there an arabian portrait of some bearded king. by the windows, which overlooked the most lovely banks of the llarro, gathered the santons and alfaquis, a little apart from the main crowd. beyond, through half-veiling draperies, might be seen the great court of the alberca, whose peristyles were hung with flowers; while, in the centre, the gigantic basin, which gives its name to the court, caught the sunlight obliquely, and its waves glittered on the eye from amidst the roses that then clustered over it. in the audience hall itself, a canopy, over the royal cushions on which boabdil reclined, was blazoned with the heraldic insignia of granada's monarchs. his guard, and his mutes, and his eunuchs, and his courtiers, and his counsellors, and his captains, were ranged in long files on either side the canopy. it seemed the last flicker of the lamp of the moorish empire, that hollow and unreal pomp! as muza approached the monarch, he was startled by the change of his countenance: the young and beautiful boabdil seemed to have grown suddenly old; his eyes were sunken, his countenance sown with wrinkles, and his voice sounded broken and hollow on the ears of his kinsman. "come hither, muza," said he; "seat thyself beside me, and listen as thou best canst to the tidings we are about to hear." as muza placed himself on a cushion, a little below the king, boabdil motioned to one amongst the crowd. "hamet," said he, "thou hast examined the state of the christian camp; what news dost thou bring?" "light of the faithful," answered the moor, "it is a camp no longer--it has already become a city. nine towns of spain were charged with the task; stone has taken the place of canvas; towers and streets arise like the buildings of a genius; and the misbelieving king hath sworn that this new city shall not be left until granada sees his standard on its walls." "go on," said boabdil, calmly. "traders and men of merchandise flock thither daily; the spot is one bazaar; all that should supply our famishing country pours its plenty into their mart." boabdil motioned to the moor to withdraw, and an alfaqui advanced in his stead. "successor of the prophet, and darling of the world!" said the reverend man, "the alfaquis and seers of granada implore thee on their knees to listen to their voice. they have consulted the books of fate; thy have implored a sign from the prophet; and they find that the glory has left thy people and thy crown. the fall of granada is predestined; god is great!" "you shall have my answer forthwith," said boabdil. "abdelemic, approach." from the crowd came an aged and white-bearded man, the governor of the city. "speak, old man," said the king. "oh, boabdil!" said the veteran, with faltering tones, while the tears rolled down his cheeks; "son of a race of kings and heroes! would that thy servant had fallen dead on thy threshold this day, and that the lips of a moorish noble had never been polluted by the words that i now utter! our state is hopeless; our granaries are as the sands of the desert: there is in them life neither for beast nor man. the war-horse that bore the hero is now consumed for his food; the population of thy city, with one voice, cry for chains and--bread! i have spoken." "admit the ambassador of egypt," said boabdil, as abdelmelic retired. there was a pause: one of the draperies at the end of the hall was drawn aside; and with the slow and sedate majesty of their tribe and land, paced forth a dark and swarthy train, the envoys of the egyptian soldan. six of the band bore costly presents of gems and weapons, and the procession closed with four veiled slaves, whose beauty had been the boast of the ancient valley of the nile. "sun of granada and day--star of the faithful!" said the chief of the egyptians, "my lord, the soldan of egypt, delight of the world, and rose- tree of the east, thus answers to the letters of boabdil. he grieves that be cannot send the succour thou demandest; and informing himself of the condition of thy territories, he finds that granada no longer holds a seaport by which his forces (could he send them) might find an entrance into spain. he implores thee to put thy trust in allah, who will not desert his chosen ones, and lays these gifts, in pledge of amity and love, at the feet of my lord the king." "it is a gracious and well-timed offering," said boabdil, with a writhing lip; "we thank him." there was now a long and dead silence as the ambassadors swept from the hall of audience, when boabdil suddenly raised his head from his breast and looked around his hall with a kingly and majestic look: "let the heralds of ferdinand of spain approach." a groan involuntarily broke from the breast of muza: it was echoed by a murmur of abhorrence and despair from the gallant captains who stood around; but to that momentary burst succeeded a breathless silence, as from another drapery, opposite the royal couch, gleamed the burnished mail of the knights of spain. foremost of these haughty visitors, whose iron heels clanked loudly on the tesselated floor, came a noble and stately form, in full armour, save the helmet, and with a mantle of azure velvet, wrought with the silver cross that made the badge of the christian war. upon his manly countenance was visible no sign of undue arrogance or exultation; but something of that generous pity which brave men feel for conquered foes dimmed the lustre of his commanding eye, and softened the wonted sternness of his martial bearing. he and his train approached the king with a profound salutation of respect; and falling back, motioned to the herald that accompanied him, and whose garb, breast and back, was wrought with the arms of spain, to deliver himself of his mission. "to boabdil!" said the herald, with a loud voice, that filled the whole expanse, and thrilled with various emotions the dumb assembly. "to boabdil el chico, king of granada, ferdinand of arragon and isabel of castile send royal greeting. they command me to express their hope that the war is at length concluded; and they offer to the king of granada such terms of capitulation as a king, without dishonour, may receive. in the stead of this city, which their most christian majesties will restore to their own dominion, as is just, they offer, o king, princely territories in the alpuxarras mountains to your sway, holding them by oath of fealty to the spanish crown. to the people of granada, their most christian majesties promise full protection of property, life, and faith under a government by their own magistrates, and according to their own laws; exemption from tribute for three years; and taxes thereafter, regulated by the custom and ratio of their present imposts. to such moors as, discontented with these provisions, would abandon granada, are promised free passage for themselves and their wealth. in return for these marks of their royal bounty, their most christian majesties summon granada to surrender (if no succour meanwhile arrive) within seventy days. and these offers are now solemnly recorded in the presence, and through the mission, of the noble and renowned knight, gonzalvo of cordova, deputed by their most christian majesties from their new city of santa fe." when the herald had concluded, boabdil cast his eye over his thronged and splendid court. no glance of fire met his own; amidst the silent crowd, a resigned content was alone to be perceived: the proposals exceeded the hope of the besieged. "and," asked boabdil, with a deep-drawn sigh, "if we reject these offers?" "noble prince," said gonzalvo, earnestly, "ask us not to wound thine ears with the alternative. pause, and consider of our offers; and, if thou doubtest, o brave king! mount the towers of thine alhambra, survey our legions marshalled beneath thy walls, and turn thine eyes upon a brave people, defeated, not by human valour, but by famine, and the inscrutable will of god." "your monarchs shall have our answer, gentle christian, perchance ere nightfall. and you, sir knight, who hast delivered a message bitter for kings to bear, receive, at least, our thanks for such bearing as might best mitigate the import. our vizier will bear to your apartment those tokens of remembrance that are yet left to the monarch of granada to bestow." "muza," resumed the king, as the spaniards left the presence--"thou hast heard all. what is the last counsel thou canst give thy sovereign?" the fierce moor had with difficulty waited this licence to utter such sentiments as death only could banish from that unconquerable heart. he rose, descended from the couch, and, standing a little below the king, and facing the motley throng of all of wise or brave yet left to granada, thus spoke:-- "why should we surrender? two hundred thousand inhabitants are yet within our walls; of these, twenty thousand, at least, are moors, who have hands and swords. why should we surrender? famine presses us, it is true; but hunger, that makes the lion more terrible, shall it make the man more base? do ye despair? so be it! despair in the valiant ought to have an irresistible force. despair has made cowards brave: shall it sink the brave to cowards? let us arouse the people; hitherto we have depended too much upon the nobles. let us collect our whole force, and march upon this new city, while the soldiers of spain are employed in their new profession of architects and builders. hear me, o god and prophet of the moslem! hear one who never was forsworn! if, moors of granada, ye adopt my counsel, i cannot promise ye victory, but i promise ye never to live without it: i promise ye, at least, your independence--for the dead know no chains! if we cannot live, let us so die that we may leave to remotest ages a glory that shall be more durable than kingdoms. king of granada! this is the counsel of muza ben abil gazan." the prince ceased. but he, whose faintest word had once breathed fire into the dullest, had now poured out his spirit upon frigid and lifeless matter. no man answered--no man moved. boabdil alone, clinging to the shadow of hope, turned at last towards the audience. "warriors and sages!" he said, "as muza's counsel is your king's desire, say but the word, and, ere the hour-glass shed its last sand, the blast of our trumpet shall be ringing through the vivarrambla." "o king! fight not against the will of fate--god is great!" replied the chief of the alfaquis. "alas!" said abdelmelic, "if the voice of muza and your own falls thus coldly upon us, how can ye stir the breadless and heartless multitude?" "is such your general thought and your general will?" said boabdil. an universal murmur answered, "yes!" "go then, abdelmelic;" resumed the ill-starred king; "go with yon spaniards to the christian camp, and bring us back the best terms you can obtain. the crown has passed from the head of el zogoybi; fate sets her seal upon my brow. unfortunate was the commencement of my reign-- unfortunate its end. break up the divan." the words of boabdil moved and penetrated an audience, never till then so alive to his gentle qualities, his learned wisdom, and his natural valour. many flung themselves at his feet, with tears and sighs; and the crowd gathered round to touch the hem of his robe. muza gazed at them in deep disdain, with folded arms and heaving breast. "women, not men!" he exclaimed, "ye weep, as if ye had not blood still left to shed! ye are reconciled to the loss of liberty, because ye are told ye shall lose nothing else. fools and dupes! i see, from the spot where my spirit stands above ye, the dark and dismal future to which ye are crawling on your knees: bondage and rapine--the violence of lawless lust--the persecution of hostile faith--your gold wrung from ye by torture--your national name rooted from the soil. bear this, and remember me! farewell, boabdil! you i pity not; for your gardens have yet a poison, and your armories a sword. farewell, nobles and santons of granada! i quit my country while it is yet free." scarcely had he ceased, ere he had disappeared from the hall. it was as the parting genius of granada! chapter iv. the adventure of the solitary horseman. it was a burning and sultry noon, when, through a small valley, skirted by rugged and precipitous hills, at the distance of several leagues from granada, a horseman, in complete armour, wound his solitary way; his mail was black and unadorned; on his vizor waved no plume. but there was something in his carriage and mien, and the singular beauty of his coal- black steed, which appeared to indicate a higher rank than the absence of page and squire, and the plainness of his accoutrements, would have denoted to a careless eye. he rode very slowly; and his steed, with the licence of a spoiled favourite, often halted lazily in his sultry path, as a tuft of herbage, or the bough of some overhanging tree, offered its temptation. at length, as he thus paused, a noise was heard in a copse that clothed the descent of a steep mountain; and the horse started suddenly back, forcing the traveller from his reverie. he looked mechanically upward, and beheld the figure of a man bounding through the trees, with rapid and irregular steps. it was a form that suited well the silence and solitude of the spot; and might have passed for one of those stern recluses--half hermit, half soldier--who, in the earlier crusades, fixed their wild homes amidst the sands and caves of palestine. the stranger supported his steps by a long staff. his hair and beard hung long and matted over his broad shoulders. a rusted mail, once splendid with arabesque enrichments, protected his breast; but the loose gown--a sort of tartan, which descended below the cuirass--was rent and tattered, and his feet bare; in his girdle was a short curved cimiter, a knife or dagger, and a parchment roll, clasped and bound with iron. as the horseman gazed at this abrupt intruder on the solitude, his frame quivered with emotion; and, raising himself to his full height, he called aloud, "fiend or santon--whatsoever thou art--what seekest thou in these lonely places, far from the king thy counsels deluded, and the city betrayed by thy false prophecies and unhallowed charms?" "ha!" cried almamen, for it was indeed the israelite; "by thy black charger, and the tone of thy haughty voice, i know the hero of granada. rather, muza ben abil gazan, why art thou absent from the last hold of the moorish empire?" "dost thou pretend to read the future, and art thou blind to the present? granada has capitulated to the spaniard. alone i have left a land of slaves, and shall seek, in our ancestral africa, some spot where the footstep of the misbeliever hath not trodden." "the fate of one bigotry is, then, sealed," said almamen, gloomily; "but that which succeeds it is yet more dark." "dog!" cried muza, couching his lance, "what art thou that thus blasphemest?" "a jew!" replied almamen, in a voice of thunder, and drawing his cimiter: "a despised and despising jew! ask you more? i am the son of a race of kings. i was the worst enemy of the moors till i found the nazarene more hateful than the moslem; and then even muza himself was not their more renowned champion. come on, if thou wilt--man to man: i defy thee" "no, no," muttered muza, sinking his lance; "thy mail is rusted with the blood of the spaniard, and this arm cannot smite the slayer of the christian. part we in peace." "hold, prince!" said almamen, in an altered voice: "is thy country the sole thing dear to thee? has the smile of woman never stolen beneath thine armour? has thy heart never beat for softer meetings than the encounter of a foe?" "am i human, and a moor?" returned muza. "for once you divine aright; and, could thy spells bestow on these eyes but one more sight of the last treasure left to me on earth, i should be as credulous of thy sorcery as boabdil." "thou lovest her still, then--this leila?" "dark necromancer, hast thou read my secret? and knowest thou the name of my beloved one? ah! let me believe thee indeed wise, and reveal to me the spot of earth which holds the delight of my soul! yes," continued the moor, with increased emotion, and throwing up his vizor, as if for air--"yes; allah forgive me! but, when all was lost at granada, i had still one consolation in leaving my fated birthplace: i had licence to search for leila; i had the hope to secure to my wanderings in distant lands one to whose glance the eyes of the houris would be dim. but i waste words. tell me where is leila, and conduct me to her feet!" "moslem, i will lead thee to her," answered almamen, gazing on the prince with an expression of strange and fearful exultation in his dark eyes: "i will lead thee to her-follow me. it is only yesternight that i learned the walls that confined her; and from that hour to this have i journeyed over mountain and desert, without rest or food." "yet what is she to thee?" asked muza, suspiciously. "thou shalt learn full soon. let us on." so saying, almamen sprang forward with a vigour which the excitement of his mind supplied to the exhaustion of his body. muza wonderingly pushed on his charger, and endeavoured to draw his mysterious guide into conversation: but almamen scarcely heeded him. and when he broke from his gloomy silence, it was but in incoherent and brief exclamations, often in a tongue foreign to the ear of his companion. the hardy moor, though steeled against the superstitions of his race, less by the philosophy of the learned than the contempt of the brave, felt an awe gather over him as he glanced, from the giant rocks and lonely valleys, to the unearthly aspect and glittering eyes of the reputed sorcerer; and more than once he muttered such verses of the koran as were esteemed by his countrymen the counterspell to the machinations of the evil genii. it might be an hour that they had thus journeyed together, when almamen paused abruptly. "i am wearied," said he, faintly; "and, though time presses, i fear that my strength will fail me." "mount, then, behind me," returned the moor, after some natural hesitation: "jew though thou art, i will brave the contamination for the sake of leila." "moor!" cried the hebrew, fiercely, "the contamination would be mine. things of yesterday, as thy prophet and thy creed are, thou canst not sound the unfathomable loathing which each heart faithful to the ancient of days feels for such as thou and thine." "now, by the kaaba!" said muza, and his brow became dark, "another such word and the hoofs of my steed shall trample the breath of blasphemy from thy body." "i would defy thee to the death," answered almamen, disdainfully; "but i reserve the bravest of the moors to witness a deed worthy of the descendant of jephtha. but hist! i hear hoofs." muza listened; and his sharp ear caught a distinct ring upon the hard and rocky soil. he turned round and saw almamen gliding away through the thick underwood, until the branches concealed his form. presently, a curve in the path brought in view a spanish cavalier, mounted on an andalusian jennet: the horseman was gaily singing one of the popular ballads of the time; and, as it related to the feats of the spaniards against the moors, muza's haughty blood was already stirred, and his moustache quivered on his lip. "i will change the air," muttered the moslem, grasping his lance, when, as the thought crossed him, he beheld the spaniard suddenly reel in his saddle and lay prostrate on the ground. in the same instant almamen had darted from his hiding-place, seized the steed of the cavalier, mounted, and, ere muza recovered from his surprise, was by the side of the moor. "by what harm," said muza, curbing his barb, "didst thou fell the spaniard--seemingly without a blow?" "as david felled goliath--by the pebble and the sling," answered almamen, carelessly. "now, then, spur forward, if thou art eager to see thy leila." the horsemen dashed over the body of the stunned and insensible spaniard. tree and mountain glided by; gradually the valley vanished, and a thick forest loomed upon their path. still they made on, though the interlaced boughs and the ruggedness of the footing somewhat obstructed their way; until, as the sun began slowly to decline, they entered a broad and circular space, round which trees of the eldest growth spread their motionless and shadowy boughs. in the midmost sward was a rude and antique stone, resembling the altar of some barbarous and departed creed. here almamen abruptly halted, and muttered inaudibly to himself. "what moves thee, dark stranger?" said the moor; "and why dost thou mutter and gaze on space?" almamen answered not, but dismounted, hung his bridle to a branch of a scathed and riven elm, and advanced alone into the middle of the space. "dread and prophetic power that art within me!" said the hebrew, aloud,-- "this, then, is the spot that, by dream and vision, thou hast foretold me wherein to consummate and record the vow that shall sever from the spirit the last weakness of the flesh. night after night hast thou brought before mine eyes, in darkness and in slumber, the solemn solitude that i now survey. be it so! i am prepared!" thus speaking, he retired for a few moments into the wood: collected in his arms the dry leaves and withered branches which cumbered the desolate clay, and placed the fuel upon the altar. then, turning to the east, and raising his hands he exclaimed, "lo! upon this altar, once worshipped, perchance, by the heathen savage, the last bold spirit of thy fallen and scattered race dedicates, o ineffable one! that precious offering thou didst demand from a sire of old. accept the sacrifice!" as the hebrew ended his adjuration he drew a phial from his bosom, and sprinkled a few drops upon the arid fuel. a pale blue flame suddenly leaped up; and, as it lighted the haggard but earnest countenance of the israelite, muza felt his moorish blood congeal in his veins, and shuddered, though he scarce knew why. almamen, with his dagger, severed from his head one of his long locks, and cast it upon the flame. he watched it until it was consumed; and then, with a stifled cry, fell upon the earth in a dead swoon. the moor hastened to raise him; he chafed his hands and temples; he unbuckled the vest upon his bosom; he forgot that his comrade was a sorcerer and a jew, so much had the agony of that excitement moved his sympathy. it was not till several minutes had elapsed that almamen, with a deep- drawn sigh, recovered from his swoon. "ah, beloved one! bride of my heart!" he murmured, "was it for this that thou didst commend to me the only pledge of our youthful love? forgive me! i restore her to the earth, untainted by the gentile." he closed his eyes again, and a strong convulsion shook his frame. it passed; and he rose as a man from a fearful dream, composed, and almost as it were refreshed, by the terrors he had undergone. the last glimmer of the ghastly light was dying away upon that ancient altar, and a low wind crept sighing through the trees. "mount, prince," said almamen, calmly, but averting his eyes from the altar; "we shall have no more delays." "wilt thou not explain thy incantation?" asked muza; "or is it, as my reason tells me, but the mummery of a juggler?" "alas! alas!" answered almamen, in a sad and altered tone, "thou wilt soon know all." chapter v. the sacrifice. the sun was now sinking slowly through those masses of purple cloud which belong to iberian skies; when, emerging from the forest, the travellers saw before them a small and lovely plain, cultivated like a garden. rows of orange and citron trees were backed by the dark green foliage of vines; and these again found a barrier in girdling copses of chestnut, oak, and the deeper verdure of pines: while, far to the horizon, rose the distant and dim outline of the mountain range, scarcely distinguishable from the mellow colourings of the heaven. through this charming spot went a slender and sparkling torrent, that collected its waters in a circular basin, over which the rose and orange hung their contrasted blossoms. on a gentle eminence above this plain, or garden, rose the spires of a convent: and, though it was still clear daylight, the long and pointed lattices were illumined within; and, as the horsemen cast their eyes upon the pile, the sound of the holy chorus--made more sweet and solemn from its own indistinctness, from the quiet of the hour, from the sudden and sequestered loveliness of that spot, suiting so well the ideal calm of the conventual life--rolled its music through the odorous and lucent air. but that scene and that sound, so calculated to soothe and harmonise the thought, seemed to arouse almamen into agony and passion. he smote his breast with his clenched hand; and, shrieking, rather than exclaiming, "god of my fathers! have i come too late?" buried his spurs to the rowels in the sides of his panting steed. along the sward, through the fragrant shrubs, athwart the pebbly and shallow torrent, up the ascent to the convent, sped the israelite. muza, wondering and half reluctant, followed at a little distance. clearer and nearer came the voices of the choir; broader and redder glowed the tapers from the gothic casements: the porch of the convent chapel was reached; the hebrew sprang from his horse. a small group of the peasants dependent on the convent loitered reverently round the threshold; pushing through them, as one frantic, almamen entered the chapel and disappeared. a minute elapsed. muza was at the door; but the moor paused irresolutely, ere he dismounted. "what is the ceremony?" he asked of the peasants. "a nun is about to take the vows," answered one of them. a cry of alarm, of indignation, of terror, was heard within. muza no longer delayed: he gave his steed to the bystanders, pushed aside the heavy curtain that screened the threshold and was within the chapel. by the altar gathered a confused and disordered group--the sisterhood, with their abbess. round the consecrated rail flocked the spectators, breathless and amazed. conspicuous above the rest, on the elevation of the holy place, stood almamen with his drawn dagger in his right hand, his left arm clasped around the form of a novice, whose dress, not yet replaced by the serge, bespoke her the sister fated to the veil; and, on the opposite side of that sister, one hand on her shoulder, the other rearing on high the sacred crucifix, stood a stern, commanding form, in the white robes of the dominican order; it was tomas de torquemada. "avaunt, almamen!" were the first words which reached muza's ear as he stood, unnoticed, in the middle of the aisle: "here thy sorcery and thine arts cannot avail thee. release the devoted one of god!" "she is mine! she is my daughter! i claim her from thee as a father, in the name of the great sire of man!" "seize the sorcerer! seize him!" exclaimed the inquisitor, as, with a sudden movement, almamen cleared his way through the scattered and dismayed group, and stood with his daughter in his arms, on the first step of the consecrated platform. but not a foot stirred--not a hand was raised. the epithet bestowed on the intruder had only breathed a supernatural terror into the audience; and they would have sooner rushed upon a tiger in his lair, than on the lifted dagger and savage aspect of that grim stranger. "oh, my father!" then said a low and faltering voice, that startled muza as a voice from the grave--"wrestle not against the decrees of heaven. thy daughter is not compelled to her solemn choice. humbly, but devotedly, a convert to the christian creed, her only wish on earth is to take the consecrated and eternal vow." "ha!" groaned the hebrew, suddenly relaxing his hold, as his daughter fell on her knees before him, "then have i indeed been told, as i have foreseen, the worst. the veil is rent--the spirit hath left the temple. thy beauty is desecrated; thy form is but unhallowed clay. dog!" he cried, more fiercely, glaring round upon the unmoved face of the inquisitor, "this is thy work: but thou shalt not triumph. here, by thine own shrine, i spit at and defy thee, as once before, amidst the tortures of thy inhuman court. thus--thus--thus--almamen the jew delivers the last of his house from the curse of galilee!" "hold, murderer!" cried a voice of thunder; and an armed man burst through the crowd and stood upon the platform. it was too late: thrice the blade of the hebrew had passed through that innocent breast; thrice was it reddened with that virgin blood. leila fell in the arms of her lover; her dim eyes rested upon his countenance, as it shone upon her, beneath his lifted vizor-a faint and tender smile played upon her lips-- leila was no more. one hasty glance almamen cast upon his victim, and then, with a wild laugh that woke every echo in the dreary aisles, he leaped from the place. brandishing his bloody weapon above his head, he dashed through the coward crowd; and, ere even the startled dominican had found a voice, the tramp of his headlong steed rang upon the air; an instant--and all was silent. but over the murdered girl leaned the moor, as yet incredulous of her death; her head still unshorn of its purple tresses, pillowed on his lap --her icy hand clasped in his, and her blood weltering fast over his armour. none disturbed him; for, habited as the knights of christendom, none suspected his faith; and all, even the dominican, felt a thrill of sympathy at his distress. how he came hither, with what object,--what hope, their thoughts were too much locked in pity to conjecture. there, voiceless and motionless, bent the moor, until one of the monks approached and felt the pulse, to ascertain if life was, indeed, utterly gone. the moor at first waved him haughtily away; but, when he divined the monk's purpose, suffered him in silence to take the beloved hand. he fixed on him his dark and imploring eyes; and when the father dropped the hand, and, gently shaking his head, turned away, a deep and agonising groan was all that the audience heard from that heart in which the last iron of fate had entered. passionately he kissed the brow, the cheeks, the lips of the hushed and angel face, and rose from the spot. "what dost thou here? and what knowest thou of yon murderous enemy of god and man?" asked the dominican, approaching. muza made no reply, as he stalked slowly through the chapel. the audience was touched to sudden tears. "forbear!" said they, almost with one accord, to the harsh inquisitor; "he hath no voice to answer thee." and thus, amidst the oppressive grief and sympathy of the christian throng, the unknown paynim reached the door, mounted his steed, and as he turned once more and cast a hurried glance upon the fatal pile, the bystanders saw the large tears rolling down his swarthy cheeks. slowly that coal-black charger wound down the hillock, crossed the quiet and lovely garden, and vanished amidst the forest. and never was known, to moor or christian, the future fate of the hero of granada. whether he reached in safety the shores of his ancestral africa, and carved out new fortunes and a new name; or whether death, by disease or strife, terminated obscurely his glorious and brief career, mystery--deep and unpenetrated, even by the fancies of the thousand bards who have consecrated his deeds--wraps in everlasting shadow the destinies of muza ben abil gazan, from that hour, when the setting sun threw its parting ray over his stately form and his ebon barb, disappearing amidst the breathless shadows of the forest. chapter vi. the return--the riot--the treachery--and the death. it was the eve of the fatal day on which granada was to be delivered to the spaniards, and in that subterranean vault beneath the house of almamen, before described, three elders of the jewish persuasion were met. "trusty and well-beloved ximen," cried one, a wealthy and usurious merchant, with a twinkling and humid eye, and a sleek and unctuous aspect, which did not, however, suffice to disguise something fierce and crafty in his low brow and pinched lips--"trusty and well-beloved ximen," said this jew--"truly thou hast served us well, in yielding to thy persecuted brethren this secret shelter. here, indeed, may the heathen search for us in vain! verily, my veins grow warm again; and thy servant hungereth, and hath thirst." "eat, isaac--eat; yonder are viands prepared for thee; eat, and spare not. and thou, elias--wilt thou not draw near the board? the wine is old and precious, and will revive thee." "ashes and hyssop--hyssop and ashes, are food and drink for me," answered elias, with passionate bitterness; "they have rased my house--they have burned my granaries--they have molten down my gold. i am a ruined man!" "nay," said ximen, who gazed at him with a malevolent eye--for so utterly had years and sorrows mixed with gall even the one kindlier sympathy he possessed, that he could not resist an inward chuckle over the very afflictions he relieved, and the very impotence he protected--"nay, elias, thou hast wealth yet left in the seaport towns sufficient to buy up half granada." "the nazarene will seize it all!" cried elias; "i see it already in his grasp!" "nay, thinkest thou so?--and wherefore?" asked ximen, startled into sincere, because selfish anxiety. "mark me! under licence of the truce, i went, last night, to the christian camp: i had an interview with the christian king; and when he heard my name and faith, his very beard curled with ire. 'hound of belial!' he roared forth, 'has not thy comrade carrion, the sorcerer almamen, sufficiently deceived and insulted the majesty of spain? for his sake, ye shall have no quarter. tarry here another instant, and thy corpse shall be swinging to the winds! go, and count over thy misgotten wealth; just census shall be taken of it; and if thou defraudest our holy impost by one piece of copper, thou shalt sup with dives!' such was my mission, and mine answer. i return home to see the ashes of mine house! woe is me!" "and this we owe to almamen, the pretended jew!" cried isaac, from his solitary but not idle place at the board. "i would this knife were at his false throat!" growled elias, clutching his poniard with his long bony fingers. "no chance of that," muttered ximen; "he will return no more to granada. the vulture and the worm have divided his carcass between them ere this; and (he added inly with a hideous smile) his house and his gold have fallen into the hands of old childless ximen." "this is a strange and fearful vault," said isaac, quaffing a large goblet of the hot wine of the vega; "here might the witch of endor have raised the dead. yon door--whither doth it lead?" "through passages none that i know of, save my master, hath trodden," answered ximen. "i have heard that they reach even to the alhambra. come, worthy elias! thy form trembles with the cold: take this wine." "hist!" said elias, shaking from limb to limb; "our pursuers are upon us --i hear a step!" as he spoke, the door to which isaac had pointed slowly opened and almamen entered the vault. had, indeed, a new witch of endor conjured up the dead, the apparition would not more have startled and appalled that goodly trio. elias, griping his knife, retreated to the farthest end of the vault. isaac dropped the goblet he was about to drain, and fell upon his knees. ximen, alone, growing, if possible, a shade more ghastly--retained something of self-possession, as he muttered to himself--"he lives! and his gold is not mine! curse him!" seemingly unconscious of the strange guests his sanctuary shrouded, almamen stalked on, like a man walking in his sleep. ximen roused himself--softly unbarred the door which admitted to the upper apartments, and motioned to his comrades to avail themselves of the opening, but as isaac--the first to accept the hint--crept across, almamen fixed upon him his terrible eye, and, appearing suddenly to awake to consciousness, shouted out, "thou miscreant, ximen! whom hast thou admitted to the secrets of thy lord? close the door--these men must die!" "mighty master!" said ximen, calmly, "is thy servant to blame that he believed the rumour that declared thy death? these men are of our holy faith, whom i have snatched from the violence of the sacrilegious and maddened mob. no spot but this seemed safe from the popular frenzy." "are ye jews?" said almamen. "ah, yes! i know ye now--things of the market-place and bazaar'. oh, ye are jews, indeed! go, go! leave me!" waiting no further licence, the three vanished; but, ere he quitted the vault, elias turned back his scowling countenance on almamen (who had sunk again into an absorbed meditation) with a glance of vindictive ire --almamen was alone. in less than a quarter of an hour ximen returned to seek his master; but the place was again deserted. it was midnight in the streets of granada--midnight, but not repose. the multitude, roused into one of their paroyxsms of wrath and sorrow, by the reflection that the morrow was indeed the day of their subjection to the christian foe, poured forth through the streets to the number of twenty thousand. it was a wild and stormy night; those formidable gusts of wind, which sometimes sweep in sudden winter from the snows of the sierra nevada, howled through the tossing groves, and along the winding streets. but the tempest seemed to heighten, as if by the sympathy of the elements, the popular storm and whirlwind. brandishing arms and torches, and gaunt with hunger, the dark forms of the frantic moors seemed like ghouls or spectres, rather than mortal men; as, apparently without an object, save that of venting their own disquietude, or exciting the fears of earth, they swept through the desolate city. in the broad space of the vivarrambla the crowd halted, irresolute in all else, but resolved at least that something for granada should yet be done. they were for the most armed in their moorish fashion; but they were wholly without leaders: not a noble, a magistrate, an officer, would have dreamed of the hopeless enterprise of violating the truce with ferdinand. it was a mere popular tumult--the madness of a mob;--but not the less formidable, for it was an eastern mob, and a mob with sword and shaft, with buckler and mail--the mob by which oriental empires have been built and overthrown! there, in the splendid space that had witnessed the games and tournaments of that arab and african chivalry--there, where for many a lustrum kings had reviewed devoted and conquering armies-- assembled those desperate men; the loud winds agitating their tossing torches that struggled against the moonless night. "let us storm the alhambra!" cried one of the band: "let us seize boabdil, and place him in the midst of us; let us rush against the christians, buried in their proud repose!" "lelilies, lelilies!--the keys and the crescent!" shouted the mob. the shout died: and at the verge of the space was suddenly heard a once familiar and ever-thrilling voice. the moors who heard it turned round in amaze and awe; and beheld, raised upon the stone upon which the criers or heralds had been wont to utter the royal proclamations, the form of almamen, the santon, whom they had deemed already with the dead. "moors and people of granada!" he said, in a solemn but hollow voice, "i am with ye still. your monarch and your heroes have deserted ye, but i am with ye to the last! go not to the alhambra: the fort is impenetrable--the guard faithful. night will be wasted, and day bring upon you the christian army. march to the gates; pour along the vega; descend at once upon the foe!" he spoke, and drew forth his sabre; it gleamed in the torchlight--the moors bowed their heads in fanatic reverence--the santon sprang from the stone, and passed into the centre of the crowd. then, once more, arose joyful shouts. the multitude had found a leader worthy of their enthusiasm; and in regular order, they formed themselves rapidly, and swept down the narrow streets. swelled by several scattered groups of desultory marauders (the ruffians and refuse of the city), the infidel numbers were now but a few furlongs from the great gate, whence they had been wont to issue on the foe. and then, perhaps, had the moors passed these gates and reached the christian encampment, lulled, as it was, in security and sleep, that wild army of twenty thousand desperate men might have saved granada; and spain might at this day possess the only civilised empire which the faith of mohammed ever founded. but the evil star of boabdil prevailed. the news of the insurrection in the city reached him. two aged men from the lower city arrived at the alhambra--demanded and obtained an audience; and the effect of that interview was instantaneous upon boabdil. in the popular frenzy he saw only a justifiable excuse for the christian king to break the conditions of the treaty, rase the city, and exterminate the inhabitants. touched by a generous compassion for his subjects, and actuated no less by a high sense of kingly honor, which led him to preserve a truce solemnly sworn to, he once more mounted his cream-coloured charger, with the two elders who had sought him by his side; and, at the head of his guard, rode from the alhambra. the sound of his trumpets, the tramp of his steeds, the voice of his heralds, simultaneously reached the multitude; and, ere they had leisure to decide their course, the king was in the midst of them. "what madness is this, o my people?" cried boabdil, spurring into the midst of the throng,--"whither would ye go?" "against the christian!--against the goth!" shouted a thousand voices. "lead us on! the santon is risen from the dead, and will ride by thy right hand!" "alas!" resumed the king, "ye would march against the christian king! remember that our hostages are in his power: remember that he will desire no better excuse to level granada with the dust, and put you and your children to the sword. we have made such treaty as never yet was made between foe and foe. your lives, laws, wealth--all are saved. nothing is lost, save the crown of boabdil. i am the only sufferer. so be it. my evil star brought on you these evil destinies: without me, you may revive, and be once more a nation. yield to fate to-day, and you may grasp her proudest awards to-morrow. to succumb is not to be subdued. but go forth against the christians, and if ye win one battle, it is but to incur a more terrible war; if you lose, it is not honourable capitulation, but certain extermination, to which you rush! be persuaded, and listen once again to your king." the crowd were moved, were softened, were half-convinced. they turned, in silence, towards their santon; and almamen did not shrink from the appeal; but stood forth, confronting the king. "king of granada!" he cried aloud, "behold thy friend--thy prophet! lo! i assure you victory!" "hold!" interrupted boabdil; "thou hast deceived and betrayed me too long! moors! know ye this pretended santon? he is of no moslem creed. he is a hound of israel who would sell you to the best bidder. slay him!" "ha!" cried almamen, "and who is my accuser?" "thy servant-behold him!" at these words the royal guards lifted their torches, and the glare fell redly on the death-like features of ximen. "light of the world! there be other jews that know him," said the traitor. "will ye suffer a jew to lead ye, o race of the prophet?" cried the king. the crowd stood confused and bewildered. almamen felt his hour was come; he remained silent, his arms folded, his brow erect. "be there any of the tribes of moisa amongst the crowd?" cried boabdil, pursuing his advantage; "if so, let them approach and testify what they know." forth came--not from the crowd, but from amongst boabdil's train, a well-known israelite. "we disown this man of blood and fraud," said elias, bowing to the earth; "but he was of our creed." "speak, false santon! art thou dumb?" cried the king. "a curse light on thee, dull fool!" cried almamen, fiercely. "what matters who the instrument that would have restored to thee thy throne? yes! i, who have ruled thy councils, who have led thine armies, i am of the race of joshua and of samuel--and the lord of hosts is the god of almamen!" a shudder ran through that mighty multitude: but the looks, the mien, and the voice of the man awed them, and not a weapon was raised against him. he might, even then, have passed scathless through the crowd; he might have borne to other climes his burning passions and his torturing woes: but his care for life was past; he desired but to curse his dupes, and to die. he paused, looked round and burst into a laugh of such bitter and haughty scorn, as the tempted of earth may hear in the halls below from the lips of eblis. "yes," he exclaimed, "such i am! i have been your idol and your lord. i may be your victim, but in death i am your vanquisher. christian and moslem alike my foe, i would have trampled upon both. but the christian, wiser than you, gave me smooth words; and i would have sold ye to his power; wickeder than you, he deceived me; and i would have crushed him that i might have continued to deceive and rule the puppets that ye call your chiefs. but they for whom i toiled, and laboured, and sinned--for whom i surrendered peace and ease, yea, and a daughter's person and a daughter's blood--they have betrayed me to your hands, and the curse of old rests with them evermore--amen! the disguise is rent: almamen, the santon, is the son of issachar the jew!" more might he have said, but the spell was broken. with a ferocious yell, those living waves of the multitude rushed over the stern fanatic; six cimiters passed through him, and he fell not: at the seventh he was a corpse. trodden in the clay--then whirled aloft--limb torn from limb,-- ere a man could have drawn breath nine times, scarce a vestige of the human form was left to the mangled and bloody clay. one victim sufficed to slake the wrath of the crowd. they gathered like wild beasts whose hunger is appeased, around their monarch, who in vain had endeavored to stay their summary revenge, and who now, pale and breathless, shrank from the passions he had excited. he faltered forth a few words of remonstrance and exhortation, turned the head of his steed, and took his way to his palace. the crowd dispersed, but not yet to their homes. the crime of almamen worked against his whole race. some rushed to the jews' quarter, which they set on fire; others to the lonely mansion of almamen. ximen, on quitting the king, had been before the mob. not anticipating such an effect of the popular rage, he had hastened to the house, which he now deemed at length his own. he had just reached the treasury of his dead lord--he had just feasted his eyes on the massive ingots and glittering gems; in the lust of his heart he had just cried aloud, "and these are mine!" when he heard the roar of the mob below the wall,--when he saw the glare of their torches against the casement. it was in vain that he shrieked aloud, "i am the man that exposed the jew!" the wild wind scattered his words over a deafened audience. driven from his chamber by the smoke and flame, afraid to venture forth amongst the crowd, the miser loaded himself with the most precious of the store: he descended the steps, he bent his way to the secret vault, when suddenly the floor, pierced by the flames, crashed under him, and the fire rushed up in a fiercer and more rapid volume, as the death-shriek broke through that lurid shroud. such were the principal events of the last night of the moorish dynasty in granada. chapter vii. the end. day dawned upon granada: the populace had sought their homes, and a profound quiet wrapped the streets, save where, from the fires committed in the late tumult, was yet heard the crash of roofs or the crackle of the light and fragrant timber employed in those pavilions of the summer. the manner in which the mansions of granada were built, each separated from the other by extensive gardens, fortunately prevented the flames from extending. but the inhabitants cared so little for the hazard, that not a single guard remained to watch the result. now and then some miserable forms in the jewish gown might be seen cowering by the ruins of their house, like the souls that, according to plato, watched in charnels over their own mouldering bodies. day dawned, and the beams of the winter sun, smiling away the clouds of the past night, played cheerily on the murmuring waves of the xenil and the darro. alone, upon a balcony commanding that stately landscape, stood the last of the moorish kings. he had sought to bring to his aid all the lessons of the philosophy he had cultivated. "what are we," thought the musing prince, "that we should fill the world with ourselves--we kings! earth resounds with the crash of my falling throne: on the ear of races unborn the echo will live prolonged. but what have i lost?--nothing that was necessary to my happiness, my repose; nothing save the source of all my wretchedness, the marah of my life! shall i less enjoy heaven and earth, or thought or action, or man's more material luxuries of food or sleep-- the common and the cheap desires of all? arouse thee, then, o heart within me! many and deep emotions of sorrow or of joy are yet left to break the monotony of existence." he paused; and, at the distance, his eyes fell upon the lonely minarets of the distant and deserted palace of muza ben abil gazan. "thou went right, then," resumed the king--"thou wert right, brave spirit, not to pity boabdil: but not because death was in his power; man's soul is greater than his fortunes, and there is majesty in a life that towers above the ruins that fall around its path." he turned away, and his cheek suddenly grew pale, for he heard in the courts below the tread of hoofs, the bustle of preparation: it was the hour for his departure. his philosophy vanished: he groaned aloud, and re-entered the chamber just as his vizier and the chief of his guard broke upon his solitude. the old vizier attempted to speak, but his voice failed him. "it is time, then, to depart," said boabdil, with calmness; "let it be so: render up the palace and the fortress, and join thy friend, no more thy monarch, in his new home." he stayed not for reply: he hurried on, descended to the court, flung himself on his barb, and, with a small and saddened train, passed through the gate which we yet survey, by a blackened and crumbling tower overgrown with vines and ivy; thence, amidst gardens, now appertaining to the convent of the victor faith, he took his mournful and unwitnessed way. when he came to the middle of the hill that rises above those gardens, the steel of the spanish armour gleamed upon him as the detachment sent to occupy the palace marched over the summit in steady order and profound silence. at the head of this vanguard rode, upon a snow-white palfrey, the bishop of avila, followed by a long train of barefooted monks. they halted as boabdil approached, and the grave bishop saluted him with the air of one who addresses an infidel and an inferior. with the quick sense of dignity common to the great, and yet more to the fallen, boabdil felt, but resented not, the pride of the ecclesiastic. "go, christian," said he, mildly, "the gates of the alhambra are open, and allah has bestowed the palace and the city upon your king: may his virtues atone the faults of boabdil!" so saying, and waiting no answer, he rode on, without looking to the right or left. the spaniards also pursued their way. the sun had fairly risen above the mountains, when boabdil and his train beheld, from the eminence on which they were, the whole armament of spain; and at the same moment, louder than the tramp of horse, or the flash of arms, was heard distinctly the solemn chant of te deum, which preceded the blaze of the unfurled and lofty standards. boabdil, himself still silent, heard the groans and exclamations of his train; he turned to cheer or chide them, and then saw, from his own watch-tower, with the sun shining full upon its pure and dazzling surface, the silver cross of spain. his alhambra was already in the hands of the foe, while, beside that badge of the holy war, waved the gay and flaunting flag of st. iago, the canonised mars of the chivalry of spain. at that sight the king's voice died within him: he gave the rein to his barb, impatient to close the fatal ceremonial, and did not slacken his speed till almost within bow-shot of the first ranks of the army. never had christian war assumed a more splendid or imposing aspect. far as the eye could reach extended the glittering and gorgeous lines of that goodly power, bristling with sunlit spears and blazoned banners; while beside murmured, and glowed, and danced, the silver and laughing xenil, careless what lord should possess, for his little day, the banks that bloomed by its everlasting course. by a small mosque halted the flower of the army. surrounded by the arch-priests of that mighty hierarchy, the peers and princes of a court that rivalled the rolands of charlemagne, was seen the kingly form of ferdinand himself, with isabel at his right hand and the highborn dames of spain, relieving, with their gay colours and sparkling gems, the sterner splendour of the crested helmet and polished mail. within sight of the royal group, boabdil halted--composed his aspect so as best to conceal his soul,--and, a little in advance of his scanty train, but never, in mien and majesty, more a king, the son of abdallah met his haughty conqueror. at the sight of his princely countenance and golden hair, his comely and commanding beauty, made more touching by youth, a thrill of compassionate admiration ran through that assembly of the brave and fair. ferdinand and isabel slowly advanced to meet their late rival--their new subject; and, as boabdil would have dismounted, the spanish king place his hand upon his shoulder. "brother and prince," said he, "forget thy sorrows; and may our friendship hereafter console thee for reverses against which thou hast contended as a hero and a king-resisting man, but resigned at length to god!" boabdil did not affect to return this bitter, but unintentional mockery of compliment. he bowed his head, and remained a moment silent; then, motioning to his train, four of his officers approached, and kneeling beside ferdinand, proffered to him, upon a silver buckler, the keys of the city. "o king!" then said boabdil, "accept the keys of the last hold which has resisted the arms of spain! the empire of the moslem is no more. thine are the city and the people of granada: yielding to thy prowess, they yet confide in thy mercy." "they do well," said the king; "our promises shall not be broken. but, since we know the gallantry of moorish cavaliers, not to us, but to gentler hands, shall the keys of granada be surrendered." thus saying, ferdinand gave the keys to isabel, who would have addressed some soothing flatteries to boabdil: but the emotion and excitement were too much for her compassionate heart, heroine and queen though she was; and, when she lifted her eyes upon the calm and pale features of the fallen monarch, the tears gushed from them irresistibly, and her voice died in murmurs. a faint flush overspread the features of boabdil, and there was a momentary pause of embarrassment which the moor was the first to break. "fair queen," said he, with mournful and pathetic dignity; "thou canst read the heart that thy generous sympathy touches and subdues: this is thy last, nor least glorious, conquest. but i detain ye: let not my aspect cloud your triumph. suffer me to say farewell." "may we not hint at the blessed possibility of conversion?" whispered the pious queen through her tears to her royal consort. "not now--not now, by st. iago!" returned ferdinand, quickly, and in the same tone, willing himself to conclude a painful conference. he then added, aloud, "go, my brother, and fair fortune with you! forget the past." boabdil smiled bitterly, saluted the royal pair with profound and silent reverence, and rode slowly on, leaving the army below, as he ascended the path that led to his new principality beyond the alpuxarras. as the trees snatched the moorish cavalcade from the view of the king, ferdinand ordered the army to recommence its march; and trumpet and cymbal presently sent their music to the ear of the moslems. boabdil spurred on at full speed till his panting charger halted at the little village where his mother, his slaves, and his faithful amine (sent on before) awaited him. joining these, he proceeded without delay upon his melancholy path. they ascended that eminence which is the pass into the alpuxarras. from its height, the vale, the rivers, the spires, the towers of granada, broke gloriously upon the view of the little band. they halted, mechanically and abruptly; every eye was turned to the beloved scene. the proud shame of baffled warriors, the tender memories of home--of childhood--of fatherland, swelled every heart, and gushed from every eye. suddenly, the distant boom of artillery broke from the citadel and rolled along the sunlit valley and crystal river. a universal wail burst from the exiles! it smote--it overpowered the heart of the ill-starred king, in vain seeking to wrap himself in eastern pride or stoical philosophy. the tears gushed from his eyes, and he covered his face with his hands. then said his haughty mother, gazing at him with hard and disdainful eyes, in that unjust and memorable reproach which history has preserved --"ay, weep like a woman over what thou couldst not defend like a man!" boabdil raised his countenance, with indignant majesty, when he felt his hand tenderly clasped, and, turning round, saw amine by his side. "heed her not! heed her not, boabdil!" said the slave; "never didst thou seem to me more noble than in that sorrow. thou wert a hero for thy throne; but feel still, o light of mine eyes, a woman for thy people!" "god is great!" said boabdil; "and god comforts me still! thy lips; which never flattered me in my power, have no reproach for me in my affliction!" he said, and smiled upon amine--it was her hour of triumph. the band wound slowly on through the solitary defiles: and that place where the king wept, and the woman soothed, is still called "el, ultimo suspiro del moro,--the last sigh of the moor!" by al haines. the prince of india or why constantinople fell by lew. wallace vol. ii. _rise, too, ye shapes and shadows of the past rise from your long forgotten grazes at last let us behold your faces, let us hear the words you uttered in those days of fear revisit your familiar haunts again the scenes of triumph and the scenes of pain and leave the footprints of your bleeding feet once more upon the pavement of the street_ longfellow contents book iv the palace of blacherne (_continued_) chapter xi. the princess hears from the world xii. lael tells of her two fathers xiii. the hamari turns boatman xiv. the princess has a creed xv. the prince of india preaches god to the greeks xvi. how the new faith was received xvii. lael and the sword of solomon xviii. the festival of flowers xix. the prince builds castles for his gul bahar xx. the silhouette of a crime xxi. sergius learns a new lesson xxii. the prince of india seeks mahommed xxiii. sergius and nilo take up the hunt xxiv. the imperial cistern gives up its secret book v mirza i. a cold wind from adrianople ii. a fire from the hegumen's tomb iii. mirza does an errand for mahommed iv. the emir in italy v. the princess irene in town vi. count corti in sancta sophia vii. count corti to mahommed viii. our lord's creed ix. count corti to mahommed x. sergius to the lion book vi constantine i. the sword of solomon ii. mahommed and count corti make a wager iii. the bloody harvest iv. europe answers the cry for help v. count corti receives a favor vi. mahommed at the gate st. romain vii. the great gun speaks viii. mahommed tries his guns again ix. the madonna to the rescue x. the night before the assault xi. count corti in dilemma xii. the assault xiii. mahommed in sancta sophia book iv the palace of blacherne (_continued_) chapter xi the princess hears from the world the sun shone clear and hot, and the guests in the garden were glad to rest in the shaded places of promenade along the brooksides and under the beeches and soaring pines of the avenues. far up the extended hollow there was a basin first to receive the water from the conduit supposed to tap the aqueduct leading down from the forest of belgrade. the noise of the little cataract there was strong enough to draw a quota of visitors. from the front gate to the basin, from the basin to the summit of the promontory, the company in lingering groups amused each other detailing what of fortune good and bad the year had brought them. the main features of such meetings are always alike. there were games by the children, lovers in retired places, and old people plying each other with reminiscences. the faculty of enjoyment changes but never expires. an array of men chosen for the purpose sallied from the basement of the palace carrying baskets of bread, fruits in season, and wine of the country in water-skins. dispersing themselves through the garden, they waited on the guests, and made distribution without stint or discrimination. the heartiness of their welcome may be imagined; while the thoughtful reader will see in the liberality thus characterizing her hospitality one of the secrets of the princess's popularity with the poor along the bosphorus. nor that merely. a little reflection will lead up to an explanation of her preference for the homeric residence by therapia. the commonalty, especially the unfortunate amongst them, were a kind of constituency of hers, and she loved living where she could most readily communicate with them. this was the hour she chose to go out and personally visit her guests. descending from the portico, she led her household attendants into the garden. she alone appeared unveiled. the happiness of the many amongst whom she immediately stepped touched every spring of enjoyment in her being; her eyes were bright, her cheeks rosy, her spirit high; in a word, the beauty so peculiarly hers, and which no one could look on without consciousness of its influence, shone with singular enhancement. news that she was in the garden spread rapidly, and where she went everyone arose and remained standing. now and then, while making acknowledgments to groups along the way, she recognized acquaintances, and for such, whether men or women, she had a smile, sometimes a word. upon her passing, they pursued with benisons, "god bless you!" "may the holy mother keep her!" not unfrequently children ran flinging flowers at her feet, and mothers knelt and begged her blessing. they had lively recollection of a sickness or other overtaking by sorrow, and of her boat drawing to the landing laden with delicacies, and bringing what was quite as welcome, the charm of her presence, with words inspiring hope and trust. the vast, vociferous, premeditated roman ovation, sonorously the triumph, never brought a consular hero the satisfaction this christian woman now derived. she was aware of the admiration which went with her, and the sensation was of walking through a purer and brighter sunshine. nor did she affect to put aside the triumph there certainly was in the demonstration; but she accounted it the due of charity--a triumph of good work done for the pleasure there was in the doing. at the basin mentioned as the landward terminus of the garden the progress in that direction stopped. thence, after gracious attentions to the women and children there, the princess set out for the summit of the promontory. the road taken was broad and smooth, and on the left hand lined from bottom to top with pine trees, some of which are yet standing. the summit had been a place of interest time out of mind. from its woody cover, the first inhabitants beheld the argonauts anchor off the town of amycus, king of the bebryces; there the vengeful medea practised her incantations; and descending to acknowledged history, it were long telling the notable events of the ages landmarked by the hoary height. when the builder of the palace below threw his scheme of improvement over the brow of the hill, he constructed water basins on different levels, surrounding them with raised walls artistically sculptured; between the basins he pitched marble pavilions, looking in the distance like airy domes on a cyclopean temple; then he drew the work together by a tesselated pavement identical with the floor of the house of caesar hard by the forum in rome. giving little heed to the other guests in occupancy of the summit, the attendants of the princess broke into parties sight seeing; while she called sergius to her, and conducted him to a point commanding the bosphorus for leagues. a favorite lookout, in fact, the spot had been provided with a pavement and a capacious chair cut from a block of the coarse brown limestone native to the locality. there she took seat, and the ascent, though all in shade, having been wearisome, she was glad of the blowing of the fresh upper air. from a place in the rear sergius had witnessed the progress to the present halt. every incident and demonstration had been in his view and hearing. the expressions of affection showered upon the princess were delightful to him; they seemed so spontaneous and genuine. as testimony to her character in the popular estimate at least, they left nothing doubtful. his first impression of her was confirmed. she was a woman to whom heaven had confided every grace and virtue. such marvels had been before. he had heard of them in tradition, and always in a strain to lift those thus favored above the hardened commonplace of human life, creatures not exactly angels, yet moving in the same atmosphere with angels. the monasteries, even those into whose gates women are forbidden to look, all have stories of womanly excellence which the monks tell each other in pauses from labor in the lentil patch, and in their cells after vesper prayers. in brief, so did sergius' estimate of the princess increase that he was unaware of impropriety when, trudging slowly after the train of attendants, he associated her with heroines most odorous in church and scriptural memories; with mothers superior famous for sanctity; with saints, like theckla and cecilia; with the prophetess who was left by the wayside in the desert of zin, and the later seer and singer, she who had her judgment-seat under the palm tree of deborah. withal, however, the monk was uncomfortable. the words of his hegumen pursued him. should he tell the princess? assailed by doubts, he followed her to the lookout on the edge of the promontory. seating herself, she glanced over the wide field of water below; from the vessels there, she gazed across to asia; then up at the sky, full to its bluest depth with the glory of day. at length she asked: "have you heard from father hilarion?" "not yet," sergius replied. "i was thinking of him," she continued. "he used to tell me of the primitive church--the church of the disciples. one of his lessons returns to me. he seems to be standing where you are. i hear his voice. i see his countenance. i remember his words: 'the brethren while of one faith, because the creed was too simple for division, were of two classes, as they now are and will always be'--ay, sergius, as they will always be!--'but,' he said, 'it is worthy remembrance, my dear child, unlike the present habit, the rich held their riches with the understanding that the brethren all had shares in them. the owner was more than owner; he was a trustee charged with the safe-keeping of his property, and with farming it to the best advantage, that he might be in condition to help the greatest number of the christian brotherhood according to their necessities.' i wondered greatly at the time, but not now. the delight i have today confirms the father; for it is not in my palace and garden, nor in my gold, but in the power i derive from them to give respite from the grind of poverty to so many less fortunate than myself. 'the divine order was not to desist from getting wealth'--thus the father continued--'for christ knew there were who, labor as they might, could not accumulate or retain; circumstances would be against them, or the genius might be wanting. poor without fault, were they to suffer, and curse god with the curse of the sick, the cold, the naked, the hungry? oh, no! christ was the representative of the infinitely merciful. under his dispensation they were to be partners of the more favored.' who can tell, who can begin to measure the reward there is to me in the laughter of children at play under the trees by the brooks, and in the cheer and smiles of women whom i have been able to draw from the unvarying routine of toil like theirs?" there was a ship with full spread sail speeding along so close in shore sergius could have thrown a stone on its deck. he affected to be deeply interested in it. the ruse did not avail him. "what is the matter?" receiving no reply, she repeated the question. "my dear friend, you are not old enough in concealment to deceive me. you are in trouble. come sit here.... true, i am not an authorized confessor; yet i know the principle on which the church defends the confessional. let me share your burden. insomuch as you give me, you shall be relieved." it came to him then that he must speak. "princess," he began, striving to keep his voice firm, "you know not what you ask." "is it what a woman may hear?" a step nearer brought him on the tesselated square. "i hesitate, princess, because a judgment is required of me. hear, and help me first." then he proceeded rapidly: "there is one just entered holy service. he is a member of an ancient and honorable brotherhood, and by reason of his inexperience, doubtless, its obligations rest the heavier on his conscience. his superior has declared to him how glad he would be had he a son like him, and confiding in his loyalty, he intrusted him with gravest secrets; amongst others, that a person well known and greatly beloved is under watch for the highest of religious crimes. pause now, o princess, and consider the obligations inseparable from the relation and trust here disclosed.... look then to this other circumstance. the person accused condescended to be the friend and patron of the same neophyte, and by vouching for him to the head of the church, put him on the road to favor and quick promotion. briefly, o princess, to which is obligation first owing? the father superior or the patron in danger?" the princess replied calmly, but with feeling: "it is not a supposition, sergius." though surprised, he returned: "without it i could not have your decision first." "thou, sergius, art the distressed neophyte." he held his hands out to her: "give me thy judgment." "the hegumen of the st. james' is the accuser." "be just, o princess! to which is the obligation first owing?" "i am the accused," she continued, in the same tone. he would have fallen on his knees. "no, keep thy feet. a watchman may be behind me now." he had scarcely resumed his position before she asked, still in the quiet searching manner: "what is the highest religious crime? or rather, to men in authority, like the hegumen of your brotherhood, what is the highest of all crimes?" he looked at her in mute supplication. "i will tell you--heresy." then, compassionating his suffering, she added: "my poor sergius! i am not upbraiding you. you are showing me your soul. i see it in its first serious trial.... i will forget that i am the denounced, and try to help you. is there no principle to which we can refer the matter--no christian principle? the hegumen claims silence from you; on the other side, your conscience--i would like to say preference--impels you to speak a word of warning for the benefit of your patroness. there, now, we have both the dispute and the disputants. is it not so?" sergius bowed his head. "father hilarion once said to me: 'daughter, i give you the ultimate criterion of the divineness of our religion--there cannot be an instance of human trial for which it does not furnish a rule of conduct and consolation.' a profound saying truly! now is it possible we have here at last an exception? i do not seek to know on which side the honors lie. where are the humanities? ideas of honor are of men conventional. on the other hand, the humanities stand for charity. if thou wert the denounced, o sergius, how wouldst thou wish to be done by?" sergius' face brightened. "we are not seeking to save a heretic--we are in search of quiet for our consciences. so why not ask and answer further: what would befall the hegumen, did you tell the accused all you had from him? would he suffer? is there a tribunal to sentence him? or a prison agape for him? or torture in readiness? or a king of lions? in these respects how is it with the friend who vouched for you to the head of the church? alas!" "enough--say no more!" sergius cried impulsively. "say no more. o princess, i will tell everything--i will save you, if i can--if not, and the worst come, i will die with you." womanlike the princess signalized her triumph with tears. at length she asked: "wouldst thou like to know if i am indeed a heretic?" "yes, for what thou art, that am i; and then"-- "the same fire in the hippodrome may light us both out of the world." there was a ring of prophecy in the words. "god forbid!" he ejaculated, with a shiver. "god's will be done, were better! ... so, if it please you," she went on, "tell me all the hegumen told you about me." "everything?" he asked doubtfully. "why not?" "part of it is too wicked for repetition." "yet it was an accusation." "yes." "sergius, you are no match in cunning for my enemies. they are greeks trained to diplomacy; you are"--she paused and half smiled--"only a pupil of hilarion's. see now--if they mean to kill me, how important to invent a tale which shall rob me of sympathy, and reconcile the public to my sacrifice. they who do much good, and no harm"--she cast a glance at the people swarming around the pavilions--"always have friends. such is the law of kindness, and it never failed but once; but today a splinter of the cross is worth a kingdom." "princess, i will hold nothing back." "and i, sergius--god witnessing for me--will speak to each denunciation thou givest me." "there were two matters in the hegumen's mind," sergius began, but struck with the abruptness, he added apologetically: "i pray you, princess, remember i speak at your insistence, and that i am not in any sense an accuser. it may be well to say also the hegumen returned from last night's mystery low in spirits, and much spent bodily, and before speaking of you, declared he had been an active partisan of your father's. i do not think him your personal enemy." a mist of tears dimmed her eyes while the princess replied: "he was my father's friend, and i am grateful to him; but alas! that he is naturally kind and just is now of small consequence." "it grieves me"-- "do not stop," she said, interrupting him. "at the father's bedside i received his blessing; and asked leave to be absent a few days. 'where?' he inquired, and i answered: 'thou knowest i regard the princess irene as my little mother. i should like to go see her.'" sergius sought his auditor's face at this, and observing no sign of objection to the familiarity, was greatly strengthened. "the father endeavored to persuade me not to come, and it was with that purpose he entered upon the disclosures you ask.... 'the life the princess leads'--thus he commenced--'and her manners, are outside the sanctions of society.'" here, from resting on her elbow, the listener sat upright, grasping the massive arm of the chair. "shall i proceed, o princess?" "yes." "this place is very public"--he glanced at the people above them. "i will hear you here." "at your pleasure.... the hegumen referred next to your going about publicly unveiled. while not positively wrong, he condemned the practice as a pernicious example; besides which there was a defiant boldness in it, he said, tending to make you a subject of discussion and indelicate remark." the hand on the stony arm trembled. "i fear, o princess," sergius continued, with downcast look, "that my words are giving you pain." "but they are not yours. go on." "then the father came to what was much more serious." sergius again hesitated. "i am listening," she said. "he termed it your persistence in keeping up the establishment here at therapia." the princess grew red and white by turns. "he said the turk was too near you; that unmarried and unprotected your proper place was in some house of god on the islands, or in the city, where you could have the benefit of holy offices. as it was, rumor was free to accuse you of preferring guilty freedom to marriage." the breeze fell off that moment, leaving the princess in the centre of a profound hush; except for the unwonted labor of her heart, the leaves overhead were not more still. the sight of her was too oppressive--sergius turned away. presently he heard her say, as if to herself: "i am indeed in danger. if my death were not in meditation, the boldest of them would not dare think so foul a falsehood.... sergius," she said. he turned to her, but she broke off diverted by another idea. had this last accusation reference to the emperor's dream of making her his wife? could the emperor have published what took place between them? impossible! "sergius, did the hegumen tell you whence this calumny had origin?" "he laid it to rumor merely." "surely he disclosed some ground for it. a dignitary of his rank and profession cannot lend himself to shaming a helpless woman without reason or excuse." "except your residence at therapia, he gave no reason." here she looked at sergius, and the pain in the glance was pitiful. "my friend, is there anything in your knowledge which might serve such a rumor?" "yes," he replied, letting his eyes fall. "what!" and she lifted her head, and opened her eyes. he stood silent and evidently suffering. "poor sergius! the punishment is yours. i am sorry for you--sorry we entered on this subject--but it is too late to retire from it. speak bravely. what is it you know against me? it cannot be a crime; much i doubt if it be a sin; my walk has been very strait and altogether in god's view. speak!" "princess," he answered, "coming down from the landing, i was stopped by a concourse studying a brass plate nailed to the right-hand pillar of your gate. it was inscribed, but none of them knew the import of the inscription. the hamari came up, and at sight of it fell to saluting, like the abject eastern he is. the bystanders chaffered him, and he retorted, and, amongst other things, said the brass was a safeguard directed to all turks, notifying them that this property, its owner, and inmates were under protection of the prince mahommed. give heed now, i pray you, o princess, to this other thing of the man's saying. the notice was the prince mahommed's, the inscription his signature, and the prince himself fixed the plate on the pillar with his own hand." sergius paused. "well," she asked. "the inferences--consider them." "state them." "my tongue refuses. or if i must, o princess, i will use the form of accusation others are likely to have adopted. 'the princess irene lives at therapia because prince mahommed is her lover, and it is a convenient place of meeting. therefore his safeguard on her gate.'" "no one could be bold enough to"-- "one has been bold enough." "one?" "the hegumen of my brotherhood." the princess was very pale. "it is cruel--cruel!" she exclaimed. "what ought i to do?" "treat the safeguard as a discovery of to-day, and have it removed while the people are all present." she looked at him searchingly. on her forehead between the brows, he beheld a line never there before. more surprising was the failure of self-reliance observable in her request for counsel. heretofore her courage and sufficiency had been remarkable. in all dealings with him she had proved herself the directress, quick yet decided. the change astonished him, so little was he acquainted with the feminine nature; and in reply he spoke hastily, hardly knowing what he had said. the words were not straightforward and honest; they were not becoming him any more than the conduct suggested was becoming her; they lingered in his ear, a wicked sound, and he would have recalled them--but he hesitated. here a voice in fierce malediction was heard up at the pavilions, together with a prodigious splashing of water. laughter, clapping of hands, and other expressions of delight succeeded. "go, sergius, and see what is taking place," said the princess. glad of the opportunity to terminate the painful scene, he hastened to the reservoirs and returned. "your presence will restore quiet at once." the people made way for their hostess with alacrity. the hamari, it appeared, had just arrived from the garden. observing lael in the midst of the suite of fair ladies, he advanced to her with many strange salutations. alarmed, she would have run away had not joqard broken from his master, and leaped with a roar into the water. the poor beast seemed determined to enjoy the bath. he swam, and dived, and played antics without number. in vain the showman, resorting to every known language, coaxed and threatened by turns--joqard was self-willed and happy, and it were hard saying which appreciated his liberty most, he or the spectators of the scene. the princess, for the time conquering her pain of heart, interceded for the brute; whereupon the hamari, like a philosopher used to making the best of surprises, joined in the sport until joqard grew tired, and voluntarily returned to control. chapter xii lael tells of her two fathers word passed from the garden to the knots of people on the height: "come down quickly. they are making ready for the boat race." directly the reservoirs, the pavilions, and the tesselation about them were deserted. the princess irene, with her suite, made the descent to the garden more at leisure, knowing the regatta would wait for her. so it happened she was at length in charge of what seemed a rear guard; but how it befell that sergius and lael drew together, the very last of that rear guard, is not of such easy explanation. whether by accident or mutual seeking, side by side the two moved slowly down the hill, one moment in the shade of the kingly pines, then in the glowing sunshine. the noises of the celebration, the shouting, singing, calling, and merry outcries of children ascended to them, and through the verdurousness below, lucent as a lake, gleams of color flashed from scarfs, mantles, embroidered jackets, and flaming petticoats. "i hope you are enjoying yourself," he said to lael, upon their meeting. "oh, yes! how could i help it--everything is delightful. and the princess--she is so good and gracious. oh, if i were a man, i should go mad with loving her!" she spoke with enthusiasm; she even drew her veil partially aside; yet sergius did not respond; he was asking himself if it were possible the girl could be an impostor. presently he resolved to try her with questions. "tell me of your father. is he well?" at this she raised her veil entirely, and in turn asked: "which father do you mean?" "which father," he repeated, stopping. "oh, i have the advantage of everybody else! i have two fathers." he could do no more than repeat after her: "two fathers!" "yes; uel the merchant is one of them, and the prince of india is the other. i suppose you mean the prince, since you know him. he accompanied me to the landing this morning, and seated me in the boat. he was then well." there was no concealment here. yet sergius saw the disclosure was not complete. he was tempted to go on. "two fathers! how can such thing be?" she met the question with a laugh. "oh! if it depended on which of them is the kinder to me, i could not tell you the real father." sergius stood looking at her, much as to say: "that is no answer; you are playing with me." "see how we are falling behind," she then said. "come, let us go on. i can talk while walking." they set forward briskly, but it was noticeable that he moved nearer her, stooping from his great height to hear further. "this is the way of it," she continued of her own prompting. "some years ago, my father, uel, the merchant, received a letter from an old friend of his father's, telling him that he was about to return to constantinople after a long absence in the east somewhere, and asking if he, uel, would assist the servant who was bearer of the note in buying and furnishing a house. uel did so, and when the stranger arrived, his home was ready for him. i was then a little girl, and went one day to see the prince of india, his residence being opposite uel's on the other side of the street. he was studying some big books, but quit them, and picked me up, and asked me who i was? i told him uel was my father. what was my name? lael, i said. how old was i? and when i answered that also, he kissed me, and cried, and, to my wonder, declared how he had once a child named lael; she looked like me, and was just my age when she died"-- "wonderful!" exclaimed sergius. "yes, and he then said heaven had sent me to take her place. would i be his lael? i answered i would, if uel consented. he took me in his arms, carried me across the street and talked so uel could not have refused had he wanted to." the manner of the telling was irresistible. at the conclusion, she turned to him and said, with emotion: "there, now. you see i really have two fathers, and you know how i came by them: and were i to recount their goodness to me, and how they both love me, and how happy each one of them is in believing me the object of the other's affection, you would understand just as well how i know no difference between them." "it is strange; yet as you tell it, little friend, it is not strange," he returned, seriously. they were at the instant in a bar of brightest sunlight projected across the road; and had she asked him the cause of the frown on his face, he could not have told her he was thinking of demedes. "yes, i see it--i see it, and congratulate you upon being so doubly blessed. tell me next who the prince of india is." she looked now here, now there, he watching her narrowly. "oh! i never thought of asking him about himself." she was merely puzzled by an unexpected question. "but you know something of him?" "let me think," she replied. "yes, he was the intimate of my father uel's father, and of his father before him." "is he so old then?" "i cannot say how long he has been a family acquaintance. of my knowledge he is very learned in everything. he speaks all the languages i ever heard of; he passes the nights alone on the roof of his house"-- "alone on the roof of his house!" "only of clear nights, you understand. a servant carries a chair and table up for him, and a roll of papers, with pen and ink, and a clock of brass and gold. the paper is a map of the heavens; and he sits there watching the stars, marking them in position on the map, the clock telling him the exact time." "an astronomer," said sergius. "and an astrologer," she added; "and besides these things he is a doctor, but goes only amongst the poor, taking nothing from them. he is also a chemist; and he has tables of the plants curative and deadly, and can extract their qualities, and reduce them from fluids to solids, and proportionate them. he is also a master of figures, a science, he always terms it, the first of creative principles without which god could not be god. so, too, he is a traveller--indeed i think he has been over the known world. you cannot speak of a capital or of an island, or a tribe which he has not visited. he has servants from the farthest east. one of his attendants is an african king; and what is the strangest to me, sergius, his domestics are all deaf and dumb." "impossible!" "nothing appears impossible to him." "how does he communicate with them?" "they catch his meaning from the motion of his lips. he says signs are too slow and uncertain for close explanations." "still he must resort to some language." "oh, yes, the greek." "but if they have somewhat to impart to him?" "it is theirs to obey, and pantomime seems sufficient to convey the little they have to return to him, for it is seldom more than, 'my lord, i have done the thing you gave me to do.' if the matter be complex, he too resorts to the lip-speech, which he could not teach without first being proficient in it himself. thus, for instance, to nilo"-- "the black giant who defended you against the greek?" "yes--a wonderful man--an ally, not a servant. on the journey to constantinople, the prince turned aside into an african kingdom called kash-cush. i cannot tell where it is. nilo was the king, and a mighty hunter and warrior. his trappings hang in his room now--shields, spears, knives, bows and arrows, and among them a net of linen threads. when he took the field for lions, his favorite game, the net and a short sword were all he cared for. his throne room, i have heard my father the prince say, was carpeted with skins taken by him in single combats." "what could he do with the net, little princess?" "i will give you his account; perhaps you can see it clearly--i cannot. when the monster makes his leap, the corners of the net are tossed up in the air, and he is in some way caught and tangled... well, as i was saying, nilo, though deaf and dumb, of choice left his people and throne to follow the prince, he knew not where." "oh, little friend! do you know you are talking the incredible to me? who ever heard of such thing before?" sergius' blue eyes were astare with wonder. "i only speak what i have heard recounted by my father, the prince, to my other father, uel.... what i intended saying was that directly the prince established himself at home he began teaching nilo to converse. the work was slow at first; but there is no end to the master's skill and patience; he and the king now talk without hindrance. he has even made him a believer in god." "a christian, you mean." "no. in my father's opinion the mind of a wild man cannot comprehend modern christianity; nobody can explain the trinity; yet a child can be taught the almightiness of god, and won to faith in him." "do you speak for yourself or the prince?" "the prince," she replied. sergius was struck with the idea, and wished to go further with it, but they were at the foot of the hill, and lael exclaimed, "the garden is deserted. we may lose the starting of the race. let us hurry." "nay, little friend, you forget how narrow my skirts are. i cannot run. let us walk fast. give me a hand. there now--we will arrive in time." near the palace, however, sergius dropped into his ordinary gait; then coming to a halt, he asked: "tell me to whom else you have related this pretty tale of the two fathers?" his look and tone were exceedingly grave, and she studied his face, and questioned him in turn: "you are very serious--why?" "oh, i was wondering if the story is public?" more plainly, he was wondering whence demedes had his information. "i suppose it is generally known; at least i cannot see why it should not be." the few words swept the last doubt from his mind; yet she continued: "my father uel is well known to the merchants of the city. i have heard him say gratefully that since the coming of the prince of india his business has greatly increased. he used to deal in many kinds of goods; now he sells nothing but precious stones. his patrons are not alone the nobles of byzantium; traders over in galata buy of him for the western markets, especially italy and france. my other father, the prince, is an expert in such things, and does not disdain to help uel with advice." lael might have added that the prince, in course of his travels, had ascertained the conveniency of jewels as a currency familiar and acceptable to almost every people, and always kept a store of them by him, from which he frequently replenished his protege's stock, allowing him the profits. that she did not make this further disclosure was probably due to ignorance of the circumstances; in other words, her artlessness was extreme enough to render her a dangerous confidant, and both her fathers were aware of it. "everybody in the bazaar is friendly to my father uel, and the prince visits him there, going in state; and he and his train are an attraction"--thus lael proceeded. "on his departure, the questions about him are countless, and uel holds nothing back. indeed, it is more than likely he has put the whole mart and city in possession of the history of my adoption by the prince." in front of the palace she broke off abruptly: "but see! the landing is covered with men and women. let us hurry." presently they issued from the garden, and were permitted to join the princess. chapter xiii the hamari turns boatman the boatmen had taken up some of the marble blocks of the landing, and planting long oars upright in the ground, and fixing other oars crosswise on them, constructed a secure frame covered with fresh sail-cloth. from their vessels they had also brought material for a dais under the shelter thus improvised; another sail for carpet, and a chair on the dais completed the stand whence the princess was to view and judge the race. a way was opened for her through the throng, and with her attendants, she passed to the stand; and as she went, all the women near reached out their hands and reverently touched the skirt of her gown--so did their love for her trench on adoration. the shore from the stand to the town, and from the stand again around the promontory on the south, was thronged with spectators, while every vantage point fairly in view was occupied by them; even the ships were pressed into the service; and somehow the air over and about the bay seemed to give back and tremble with the eagerness of interest everywhere discernible. between fanar, the last northern point of lookout over the black sea, and galata, down on the golden horn, there are about thirty hamlets, villages and cities specking the european shore of the bosphorus. each of them has its settlement of fishermen. aside from a voluminous net, the prime necessity for successful pursuit of the ancient and honorable calling is a boat. like most things of use amongst men, the vessel of preferred model here came of evolution. the modern tourist may yet see its kind drawn up at every landing he passes. proper handling, inclusive of running out and hauling in the seine, demanded a skilful crew of at least five men; and as whole lives were devoted to rowing, the proficiency finally attained in it can be fancied. it was only natural, therefore, that the thirty communities should each insist upon having the crew of greatest excellence--the crew which could outrow any other five on the bosphorus; and as every byzantine greek was a passionate gambler, the wagers were without end. vauntings of the sort, like the black sea birds of unresting wings, went up and down the famous waterway. at long intervals occasions presented for the proof of these men of pride; after which, for a period there was an admitted champion crew, and a consequent hush of the babble and brawl. in determining to conclude the fete with a boat-race open to all greek comers from the capital to the cyanian rocks, the princess irene did more than secure a desirable climax; unconsciously, perhaps, she hit upon the measure most certain to bring peace to the thirty villages. she imposed but two conditions on the competitors--they should be fishermen and greeks. the interval between the announcement of the race and the day set for it had been filled with boasting, from which one would have supposed the bay of therapia at the hour of starting would be too contracted to hold the adversaries. when the hour came there were six crews present actually prepared to contest for the prize--a tall ebony crucifix, with a gilded image, to be displayed of holidays on the winning prow. the shrinkage told the usual tale of courage oozed out. there was of course no end of explanation. about three o'clock, the six boats, each with a crew of five men, were held in front of the princess' stand, representative of as many towns. their prows were decorated with banderoles large enough to be easily distinguished at a distance--one yellow, chosen for yenimahale; one blue, for buyukdere; one white, for therapia; one red, for stenia; one green, for balta-liman; and one half white and half scarlet, for bebek. the crews were in their seats--fellows with knotted arms bare to the shoulder; white shirts under jackets the color of the flags, trousers in width like petticoats. the feet were uncovered that, while the pull was in delivery, they might the better clinch the cleats across the bottom of the boat. the fresh black paint with which the vessels had been smeared from end to end on the outside was stoned smoothly down until it glistened like varnish. inside there was not a superfluity to be seen of the weight of a feather. the contestants knew every point of advantage, and, not less clearly, they were there to win or be beaten doing their best. they were cool and quiet; much more so, indeed, than the respective clansmen and clanswomen. from these near objects of interest, the princess directed a glance over the spreading field of dimpled water to a galley moored under a wooded point across on the asiatic shore. the point is now crowned with the graceful but neglected kiosk of the viceroy of egypt. that galley was the thither terminus of the race course, and the winners turning it, and coming back to the place of starting, must row in all about three miles. a little to the right of the princess' stand stood a pole of height to be seen by the multitude as well as the rival oarsmen, and a rope for hoisting a white flag to the top connected it with the chair on the dais. at the appearance of the flag the boats were to start; while it was flying, the race was on. and now the competitors are in position by lot from right to left. on bay and shore the shouting is sunk to a murmur. a moment more--but in that critical period an interruption occurred. a yell from a number of voices in sharpest unison drew attention to the point of land jutting into the water on the north side not inaptly called the toe of therapia, and a boat, turning the point, bore down with speed toward the sail-covered stand. there were four rowers in it; yet its glossy sides and air of trimness were significant of a seventh competitor for some reason behind time. the black flag at the prow and the black uniform of the oarsmen confirmed the idea. the hand of the princess was on the signal rope; but she paused. as the boat-hook of the newcomers fell on the edge of the landing, one of them dropped upon his knees, crying: "grace, o princess! grace, and a little time!" the four were swarthy men, and, unlike the greeks they were seeking to oppose, their swart was a peculiarity of birth, a racial sign. recognizing them, the spectators near by shouted: "gypsies! gypsies!" and the jeer passed from mouth to mouth far as the bridge over the creek at the corner of the bay; yet it was not ill-natured. that these unbelievers of unknown origin, separatists like the jews, could offer serious opposition to the chosen of the towns was ridiculous. since they excited no apprehension, their welcome was general. "why the need of grace? who are you?" the princess replied, gravely. "we are from the valley by buyukdere," the man returned. "are you fishermen?" "judged by our catches the year through, and the prices we get in the market, o princess, it is not boasting to say our betters cannot be found, though you search both shores between fanar and the isles of the princes." this was too much for the bystanders. the presence they were in was not sufficient to restrain an outburst of derision. "but the conditions of the race shut you out. you are not greeks," the judge continued. "nay, princess, that is according to the ground of judgment. if it please you to decide by birth and residence rather than ancestry, then are we to be preferred over many of the nobles who go in and out of his majesty's gates unchallenged. has not the sweet water that comes down from the hills seeking the sea through our meadow furnished drink for our fathers hundreds of years? and as it knew them, it knows us." "well answered, i must admit. now, my friend, do as wisely with what i ask next, and you shall have a place. say you come out winners, what will you do with the prize? i have heard you are not christians." the man raised his face the first time. "not christians! were the charge true, then, argument being for the hearing, i would say the matter of religion is not among the conditions. but i am a petitioner, not lawyer, and to my rude thinking it is better that i hold on as i began. trust us, o princess! there is a plane tree, wondrous old, and with seven twin trunks, standing before our tents, and in it there is a hollow which shelters securely as a house. attend me now, i pray. if happily we win, we will convert the tree into a cathedral, and build an altar in it, and set the prize above the altar in such style that all who love the handiworks of nature better than the artfulness of men may come and worship there reverently as in the holiest of houses, sancta sophia not excepted." "i will trust you. with such a promise overheard by so many of this concourse, to refuse you a part in the race were a shame to the immaculate mother. but how is it you are but four?" "we were five, o princess; now one is sick. it was at his bidding we come; he thought of the hundreds of oarsmen who would be here one at least could be induced to share our fortune." "you have leave to try them." the man arose, and looked at the bystanders, but they turned away. "a hundred noumiae for two willing hands!" he shouted. there was no reply. "if not for the money, then in honor of the noble lady who has feasted you and your wives and children." a voice answered out of the throng: "here am i!" and presently the hamari appeared with the bear behind him. "here," he said, "take care of joqard for me. i will row in the sick man's place, and"-- the remainder of the sentence was lost in an outburst of gibing--and laughter. finally the princess asked the rowers if they were satisfied with the volunteer. they surveyed him doubtfully. "art thou an oarsman?" one of them asked. "there is not a better on the bosphorus. and i will prove it. here, some of you--take the beast off my hands. fear not, friend, joqard's worst growl is inoffensive as thunder without lightning. that's a good man." and with the words the hamari released the leading strap, sprang into the boat, and without giving time for protest or remonstrance, threw off his jacket and sandals, tucked up his shirt-sleeves, and dropped into the vacant fifth seat. the dexterity with which he then unshipped the oars and took them in hand measurably quieted the associates thus audaciously adopted; his action was a kind of certificate that the right man had been sent them. "believe in me," he said, in a low tone. "i have the two qualities which will bring us home winners--skill and endurance." then he spoke to the princess: "noble lady, have i your consent to make a proclamation?" the manner of the request was singularly deferential. sergius observed the change, and took a closer look at him while the princess was giving the permission. standing upon the seat, the hamari raised his voice: "ho, here--there--every one!" and drawing a purse from his bosom, he waved it overhead, with a louder shout, "see!--a hundred noumiae, and not all copper either. piece against piece weighed or counted, i put them in wager! speak one or all. who dares the chance?" takers of the offer not appearing on the shore, he shook the purse at his competitors. "if we are not christians," he said to them, "we are oarsmen and not afraid. see--i stake this purse--if you win, it is yours." they only gaped at him. he put the purse back slowly, and recounting the several towns of his opponents by their proper names in greek, he cried: "buyukdere, therapia, stenia, bebek, balta-liman, yenimahale--your women will sing you low to-night!" then to the princess: "allow us now to take our place seventh on the left." the bystanders were in a maze. had they been served with a mess of brag, or was the fellow really capable? one thing was clear--the interest in the race had taken a rise perceptible in the judge's stand not less than on the crowded shore. the four gypsies, on their part, were content with the volunteer. in fact, they were more than satisfied when he said to them, as their vessel turned into position: "now, comrades, be governed by me; and besides the prize, if we win, you shall have my purse to divide amongst you man and man. is it agreed?" and they answered, foreman and all, yes. "very well," he returned. "do you watch, and get the time and force from me. now for the signal." the princess sent the starting flag to the top of the pole, and the boats were off together. a great shout went up from the spectators--a shout of men mingled with the screams of women to whom a hurrah or cheer of any kind appears impossible. to warm the blood, there is nothing after all like the plaudits of a multitude looking on and mightily concerned. this was now noticeable. the eyes of all the rowers enlarged; their teeth set hard; the arteries of the neck swelled; and even in their tension the muscles of the arms quivered. a much better arrangement would have been to allow the passage of the racers broadside to the shore; for then the shiftings of position, and the strategies resorted to would have been plain to the beholders; as it was, each foreshortened vessel soon became to them a black body, with but a man and one pair of oars in motion; and sometimes provokingly indistinguishable, the banderoles blew backward squarely in a line with the direction of the movement. then the friends on land gave over exercising their throats; finally drawn down to the water's edge, and pressing on each other, they steadied and welded into a mass, like a wall. once there was a general shout. gradually the boats had lost the formation of the start, and falling in behind each other, assumed an order comparable to a string. while this change was going on, a breeze unusually strong blew from the south, bringing every flag into view at the same time: when it was perceived that the red was in the lead. forthwith the clansmen of stenia united in a triumphant yell, followed immediately, however, by another yet louder. it was discovered, thanks to the same breeze, that the black banderole of the gypsies was the last of the seven. then even those who had been most impressed by the bravado of the hamari, surrendered themselves to laughter and sarcasm. "see the infidels!" "they had better be at home taking care of their kettles and goats!" "turn the seven twins into a cathedral, will they? the devil will turn them into porpoises first!" "where is the hamari now--where? by st. michael, the father of fishermen, he is finding what it is to have more noumiae than brains! ha, ha, ha!" nevertheless the coolest of the thirty-five men then scudding the slippery waterway was the hamari--he had started the coolest--he was the coolest now. for a half mile he allowed his crew to do their best, and with them he had done his best. the effort sufficed to carry them to the front, where he next satisfied himself they could stay, if they had the endurance. he called to them: "well done, comrades! the prize and the money are yours! but ease up a little. let them pass. we will catch them again at the turn. keep your eyes on me." insensibly he lessened the dip and reach of his oars; at last, as the thousands on the therapian shore would have had it, the gypsy racer was the hinderling of the pack. afterwards there were but trifling changes of position until the terminal galley was reached. by a rule of the race, the contestants were required to turn the galley, keeping it on the right; and it was a great advantage to be a clear first there, since the fortunate party could then make the round unhindered and in the least space. the struggle for the point began quite a quarter of a mile away. each crew applied itself to quickening the speed--every oar dipped deeper, and swept a wider span;--on a little, and the keepers of the galley could hear the half groan, half grunt with which the coming toilers relieved the extra exertion now demanded of them;--yet later, they saw them spring to their feet, reach far back, and finish the long deep draw by falling, or rather toppling backward to their seats. only the hamari eschewed the resort for the present. he cast a look forward, and said quickly: "attend, comrades!" thereupon he added weight to his left delivery, altering the course to an angle which, if pursued, must widen the circle around the galley instead of contracting it. on nearing the goal the rush of the boats grew fiercer; each foreman, considering it honor lost, if not a fatal mischance, did he fail to be first at the turning-point, persisted in driving straight forward--a madness which the furious yelling of the people on the marker's deck intensified. this was exactly what the hamari had foreseen. when the turn began five of the opposing vessels ran into each other. the boil and splash of water, breaking of oars, splintering of boatsides; the infuriate cries, oaths, and blind striving of the rowers, some intent on getting through at all hazards, some turned combatants, striking or parrying with their heavy oaken blades; the sound of blows on breaking heads; plunges into the foaming brine; blood trickling down faces and necks, and reddening naked arms--such was the catastrophe seen in its details from the overhanging gunwale of the galley. and while it went on, the worse than confused mass drifted away from the ship's side, leaving a clear space through which, with the first shout heard from him during the race, the hamari urged his crew, and rounded the goal. on the far therapian shore the multitude were silent. they could dimly see every incident at the turn--the collision, fighting, and manifold mishaps, and the confounding of the banderoles. then the stenia colors flashed round the galley, with the black behind it a close second. "is that the hamari's boat next the leader?" thus the princess, and upon the answer, she added: "it looks as if the holy one might find servants among the irreclaimables in the valley." had the gypsies at last a partisan? the two rivals were now clear of the galley. for a time there was but one cry heard--"stenia! stenia!" the five oarsmen of that charming town had been carefully selected; they were vigorous, skilful, and had a chief well-balanced in judgment. the race seemed theirs. suddenly--it was when the homestretch was about half covered--the black flag rushed past them. then the life went out of the multitude. "st. peter is dead!" they cried--"st. peter is dead! it is nothing to be a greek now!" and they hung their heads, refusing to be comforted. the gypsies came in first; and amidst the profoundest silence, they dropped their oars with a triumphant crash on the marble revetment. the hamari wiped the sweat from his face, and put on his jacket and sandals; pausing then to toss his purse to the foreman, and say: "take it in welcome, my friends. i am content with my share of the victory," he stepped ashore. in front of the judge's stand, he knelt, and said: "should there be a dispute touching the prize, o princess, be a witness unto thyself. thine eyes have seen the going and the coming; and if the world belie thee not--sometimes it can be too friendly--thou art fair, just and fearless." on foot again, his courtierly manner vanished in a twinkling. "joqard, joqard? where are you?" some one answered: "here he is." "bring him quickly. for joqard is an example to men--he is honest, and tells no lies. he has made much money, and allowed me to keep it all, and spend it on myself. women are jealous of him, but with reason--he is lovely enough to have been a love of solomon's; his teeth are as pearls of great price; his lips scarlet as a bride's; his voice is the voice of a nightingale singing to the full moon from an acacia tree fronded last night; in motion, he is now a running wave, now a blossom on a swaying branch, now a girl dancing before a king--all the graces are his. yes, bring me joqard, and keep the world; without him, it is nothing to me." while speaking, from a jacket pocket he brought out the fan lael had thrown him from the portico, and used it somewhat ostentatiously to cool himself. the princess and her attendants laughed heartily. sergius, however, watched the man with a scarcely defined feeling that he had seen him. but where? and he was serious because he could not answer. taking the leading strap, when joqard was brought, the hamari scrupled not to give the brute a hearty cuff, whereat the fishermen shook the sails of the pavilion with laughter; then, standing joqard up, he placed one of the huge paws on his arm, and, with the mincing step of a lady's page, they disappeared. chapter xiv the princess has a creed "i shall ask you, sergius, to return to the city to-night, for inquiry about the fete will be lively tomorrow in the holy houses. and if you have the disposition to defend me"-- "you doubt me, o princess?" "no." "o little mother, let me once for all be admitted to your confidence, that in talking to me there may never be a question of my loyalty." this, with what follows, was part of a conversation between the princess irene and sergius of occurrence the evening of the fete in the court heretofore described, being that to which she retired to read the letter of introduction brought her by the young monk from father hilarion. from an apartment adjoining, the voices of her attendants were occasionally heard blent with the monotonous tinkle of water overflowing the bowls of the fountain. in the shadowy depths of the opening above the court the stars might have been seen had not a number of lamps suspended from a silken cord stretched from wall to wall flooded the marble enclosure with their nearer light. there was a color, so to speak, in the declaration addressed to her--a warmth and earnestness--which drew a serious look from the princess--the look, in a word, with which a woman admits a fear lest the man speaking to her may be a lover. to say of her who habitually discouraged the tender passion, and the thought of it, that she moved in an atmosphere charged with attractions irresistible to the other sex sounds strangely: yet it was true; and as a consequence she had grown miraculously quick with respect to appearances. however, she now dismissed the suspicion, and replied: "i believe you, sergius, i believe you. the holy virgin sees how completely and gladly." she went on presently, a tremulous light in her eyes making him think of tears. "you call me little mother. there are some who might laugh, did they hear you, yet i agree to the term. it implies a relation of trust without embarrassment, and a promise of mutual faithfulness warranting me to call you in return, sergius, and sometimes 'dear sergius.' ... yes, i think it better that you go back immediately. the hegumen will want to speak to you in the morning about what you have seen and heard to-day. my boatmen can take you down, and arrived there, they will stay the night. my house is always open to them." after telling her how glad he was for the permission to address her in a style usual in his country, he moved to depart, but she detained him. "stay a moment. to-day i had not time to deal as i wished with the charges the hegumen prefers against me. you remember i promised to speak to you about them frankly, and i think it better to do so now; for with my confessions always present you cannot be surprised by misrepresentations, nor can doubt take hold of you so readily. you shall go hence possessed of every circumstance essential to judge how guilty i am." "they must do more than talk," the monk returned, with emphasis. "beware, sergius! do not provoke them into argument--or if you must talk, stop when you have set them to talking. the listener is he who can best be wise as a serpent.... and now, dear friend, lend me your good sense. thanks to the generosity of a kinsman, i am mistress of a residence in the city and this palace; and it is mine to choose between them. how healthful and charming life is with surroundings like these--here, the gardens; yonder, the verdurous hills; and there, before my door, a channel of the seas always borrowing from the sky, never deserted by men. guilt seeks exclusion, does it not? well, whether you come in the day or the night, my gate is open; nor have i a warder other than lysander; and his javelin is but a staff with which to steady his failing steps. there are no prohibitions shutting me in. christian, turk, gypsy--the world in fact--is welcome to see what all i have; and as to danger, i am defended better than with guards. i strive diligently to love my neighbors as i love myself, and they know it.... coming nearer the accusation now. i find here a freedom which not a religious house in the city can give me, nor one on the isles, not halki itself. here i am never disturbed by sectaries or partisans; the greek and the latin wrangle before the emperor and at the altars; but they spare me in this beloved retiracy. freedom! ah, yes, i find it in this retreat--this escape from temptations--freedom to work and sleep, and praise god as seems best to me--freedom to be myself in defiance of deplorable social customs--and there is no guilt in it.... coming still nearer the very charge, hear, o sergius, and i will tell you of the brass on my gate, and why i suffer it to stay there; since you, with your partialities, account it a witness against me, it is in likelihood the foundation of the calumny associating me with the turk. let me ask first, did the hegumen mention the name of one such associate?" "no." the princess with difficulty repressed her feelings. "bear with me a moment," she said; "you cannot know the self-mastery i require to thus defend myself. can i ever again be confident of my judgment? how doubts and fears will beset me when hereafter upon my own responsibility i choose a course, whatever the affair! ah, god, whom i have sought to make my reliance, seems so far away! it will be for him in the great day to declare if my purpose in living here be not escape from guiltiness in thought, from wrong and temptation, from taint to character. for further security, i keep myself surrounded with good women, and from the beginning took the public into confidence, giving it privileges, and inviting it to a study of my daily life. and this is the outcome! ... i will proceed now. the plate on the gate is a safeguard"-- "then mahommed has visited you?" the slightest discernible pallor overspread her face. "does it surprise you so much? ... this is the way it came about. you remember our stay at the white castle, and doubtless you remember the knight in armor who received us at the landing--a gallant, fair-speaking, chivalrous person whom we supposed the governor, and who prevailed upon us to become his guests while the storm endured. you recollect him?" "yes. he impressed me greatly." "well, let me now bring up an incident not in your knowledge. the eunuch in whose care i was placed for the time with lael, daughter of the prince of india, as my companion, to afford us agreeable diversion, obtained my consent to introduce an arab story-teller of great repute among the tribes of the desert and other eastern people. he gave us the name of the man--sheik aboo-obeidah. the sheik proved worthy his fame. so entertaining was he, in fact, i invited him here, and he came." "did i understand you to say the entertainment took place in lael's presence?" "she was my companion throughout." "let us be thankful, little mother." "ay, sergius, and that i have witnesses down to the last incident. you may have heard how the emperor and his court did me the high honor of a visit in state." "the visit was notorious." "well, while the royal company were at table, lysander appeared and announced aboo-obeidah, and, by permission of the emperor, the story-teller was admitted, and remained during the repast. now i come to the surprising event--aboo-obeidah was mahommed!" "prince mahommed--son of the terrible amurath?" exclaimed sergius. "how did you know him?" "by the brass plate. when he went to his boat, he stopped and nailed the plate to the pillar. i went to look at it, and not understanding the inscription, sent to town for a turk who enlightened me." "then the hamari was not gasconading?" "what did he say?" "he confirmed your turk." she gazed awhile at the overflowing of the fountain, giving a thought perhaps to the masquerader and his description of himself what time he was alone with her on the portico; presently she resumed: "one word more now, and i dismiss the brass plate.... i cannot blind myself, dear friend, to the condition of my kinsman's empire. it creeps in closer and closer to the walls of constantinople. presently there will be nothing of it left save the little the gates of the capital can keep. the peace we have is by the grace of an unbeliever too old for another great military enterprise; and when it breaks, then, o sergius, yon safeguard may be for others besides myself--for many others--farmers, fishermen and townspeople caught in the storm. say such anticipation followed you, sergius--what would you do with the plate?" "what would i do with it? o little mother, i too should take counsel of my fears." "you approve my keeping it where it is, then? thank you.... what remains for explanation? ah, yes--my heresy. that you shall dispose of yourself. remain here a moment." she arose, and passing through a doorway heavily draped with cloth, left him to the entertainment of the fountain. returning soon, she placed a roll of paper in his hand. "there," she said, "is the creed which your hegumen makes such a sin. it may be heresy; yet, god helping me, and christ and the holy mother lending their awful help, i dare die for it. take it, dear sergius. you will find it simple--nine words in all--and take this cover for it." he wrapped the parcel in the white silken cover she gave him, making mental comparison, nevertheless, with the old nicaean ordinances. "only nine words--o little mother!" "nine," she returned. "they should be of gold." "i leave them to speak for themselves." "shall i return the paper?" "no, it is a copy.... but it is time you were going. fortunately the night is pleasant and starlit; and if you are tired, the speeding of the boat will rest you. let me have an opinion of the creed at your leisure." they bade each other good-night. * * * * * about eight o'clock next morning sergius awoke. he had dropped on his cot undressed, and slept the sweet sleep of healthful youth; now, glancing about, he thought of the yesterday and the spacious garden, of the palace in the garden, of the princess irene, and of the conversation she held with him in the bright inner court. and the creed of nine words! he felt for it, and found it safe. then his thought flew to lael. she had exonerated herself. demedes was a liar--demedes, the presumptuous knave! he was to have been at the fete, but had not dared go. there was a limit to his audacity; and in great thankfulness for the discovery, sergius tossed an arm over the edge of the narrow cot, and struck the stool, his solitary item of furniture. he raised his head, and looked at the stool, wondering how it came there so close to his cot. what was that he saw? a fan?--and in his chamber? somebody had brought it in. he examined it cautiously. whose was it? whose could it be?--how!--no--but it _was_ the very fan he had seen lael toss to the hamari from the portico! and the hamari? a bit of folded paper on the settle attracted his attention. he snatched it up, opened, and read it, and while he read his brows knit, his eyes opened to their full. "patience--courage--judgment! "thou art better apprised of the meaning of the motto than thou wert yesterday. "thy seat in the academy is still reserved for thee. "thou mayst find the fan of the princess of india useful; with me it is embalmed in sentiment. "be wise. the hamari." he read the scrap twice, the second time slowly; then it fell rustling to the floor, while he clasped his hands and looked to heaven. a murmur was all he could accomplish. afterwards, prostrate on the cot, his face to the wall, he debated with himself, and concluded: "the greek is capable of any villany he sets about--of abduction and murder--and now indeed must lael beware!" chapter xv the prince of india preaches god to the greeks we will now take the liberty of reopening the audience chamber of the palace of blacherne, presuming the reader holds it in recollection. it is the day when, by special appointment, the prince of india appears before the emperor constantine to present his idea of a basis for universal religious union. the hour is exactly noon. a report of the prince's former audience with his majesty had awakened general curiosity to see the stranger and hear his discourse. this was particularly the feeling in spiritual circles; by which term the most influential makers of public opinion are meant. a sharp though decorous rivalry for invitations to be present on the occasion ensued. the emperor, in robes varied but little from those he wore the day of the prince's first audience, occupied the throne on the dais. on both sides of him the company sat in a semicircular arrangement which left them all facing the door of the main entrance, and permitted the placement of a table in a central position under every eye. the appearance of the assemblage would have disappointed the reader; for while the court was numerously represented, with every functionary in his utmost splendor of decoration, it was outnumbered by the brethren of the holy orders, whose gowns, for the most part of gray and black material unrelieved by gayety in color, imparted a sombreness to the scene which the ample light of the chamber could not entirely dissipate, assisted though it was by refractions in plenitude from heads bald and heads merely tonsured. it should be observed now that besides a very striking exterior, the emperor fancied he discerned in the prince of india an idea enriched by an extraordinary experience. at loss to make him out, impressed, not unpleasantly, with the mystery the stranger had managed, as usual, to leave behind him, his majesty had looked forward to this second appearance with interest, and turned it over with a view to squeezing out all of profit there might be in it. why not, he asked himself, make use of the opportunity to bring the chiefs of the religious factions once more together? the explosive tendency which it seemed impossible for them to leave in their cells with their old dalmatics had made it politic to keep them apart widely and often as circumstances would permit; here, however, he thought the danger might be averted, since they would attend as auditors from whom speech or even the asking a question would be out of order unless by permission. the imperial presence, it was also judged, would restrain the boldest of them from resolving himself into a disputant. the arrangement of the chamber for the audience had been a knotty problem to our venerable acquaintance, the dean; but at last he submitted his plan, giving every invitee a place by ticket; the emperor, however, blotted it out mercilessly. "ah, my old friend," he said, with a smile which assuaged the pang of disapproval, "you have loaded yourself with unnecessary trouble. there was never a mass performed with stricter observance of propriety than we will now have. fix the chairs thus"--and with a finger-sweep he described a semicircle--"here the table for the prince. having notified me of his intention to read from some ancient books, he must have a table--and let there be no reserved seat, except one for the patriarch. set a sedilium, high and well clothed, for him here on my right--and forget not a stool for his feet; for now to the bitterness of controversy long continued he has added a constriction of the lungs, and together they are grievous to old age." "and scholarius?" "scholarius is an orator; some say he is a prophet; i know he is not an official; so of the seats vacant when he arrives, let him choose for himself." the company began coming early. every churchman of prominence in the city was in attendance. the reception was unusually ceremonious. when the bustle was over, and his majesty at ease, the pages having arranged the folds of his embroidered vestments, he rested his hand lightly on the golden cone of the right arm of the throne, and surveyed the audience with a quiet assurance becoming his birth in the purple, looking first to the patriarch, and bowing to him, and receiving a salute in return. to the others on the right he glanced next, with a gracious bend of the head, and then to those on the left. in. the latter quarter he recognized scholarius, and covertly smiled; if gregory had taken seat on the left, scholarius would certainly have crossed to the right. there was no such thing as compromise in his intolerant nature. one further look the emperor gave to where, near the door, a group of women was standing, in attendance evidently upon the princess irene, who was the only one of them seated. their heads were covered by veils which had the appearance of finely woven silver. this jealous precaution, of course, cut off recognition; nevertheless such of the audience as had the temerity to cast their eyes at the fair array were consoled by a view of jewelled hands, bare arms inimitably round and graceful, and figures in drapery of delicate colors, and of designs to tempt the imagination without offence to modesty--a respect in which the greek costume has never been excelled. the emperor recognized the princess, and slightly inclined his head to her. he then spoke to the dean: "wait on the prince of india, and if he is prepared, accompany him hither." passing out a side door, the master of ceremonies presently reappeared with nilo in guidance. the black giant was as usual barbarously magnificent in attire; and staring at him, the company did not observe the burden he brought in, and laid on the table. he retired immediately; then they looked, and saw a heap of books and mss. in rolls left behind him--quaint, curious volumes, so to speak, yellow with age and exposure, and suggestive of strange countries, and a wisdom new, if not of more than golden worth. and they continued to gaze and wonder at them, giving warrant to the intelligent forethought of the prince of india which sent nilo in advance of his own entry. again the door was thrown open, and this time the dean ushered the prince into the chamber, and conducted him toward the dais. thrice the foreigner prostrated himself; the last time within easy speaking distance of his majesty, who silently agreed with the observant lookers-on, that he had never seen the salutations better executed. "rise, prince of india," the emperor said, blandly, and well pleased. the prince arose, and stood before him, his eyes downcast, his hands upon his breast--suppliancy in excellent pantomime. "be not surprised, prince of india, at the assemblage you behold." thus his majesty proceeded. "its presence is due, i declare to you, not so much to design of mine as to the report the city has had of your former audience, and the theme of which you then promised to discourse." without apparently noticing the low reverence in acknowledgment of the compliment, he addressed himself to the body of listeners. "i regard it courtesy to our noble indian guest to advise you, my lords of the court, and you, devotees of christ and the father, whose prayers are now the chief stay of my empire, that he is present by my appointment. on a previous occasion, he interested us--i speak of many of my very honorable assistants in government--he interested us, i say, with an account of his resignation of the kingship in his country, moved by a desire to surrender himself exclusively to study of religion. under my urgency, he bravely declared he was neither jew, moslem, hindoo, buddhist nor christian; that his travels and investigation had led him to a faith which he summed up by pronouncing the most holy name of god; giving us to understand he meant the god to whom our hearts have long been delivered. he also referred to the denominations into which believers are divided, and said his one motive in life was the bringing them together in united brotherhood; and as i cannot imagine a result more desirable, provided its basis obtain the sanction of our conscience, i will now ask him to proceed, if it be his pleasure, and speak to us freely." again the visitor prostrated himself in his best oriental manner; after which, moving backward, he went to the table and took a few minutes arranging the books and rolls. the spectators availed themselves of the opportunity to gratify their curiosity well as they could from mere inspection of the man; and as the liberty was within his anticipations, it gave him but slight concern. we about know how he appeared to them. we remember his figure, low, slightly stooped, and deficiently slender;--we remember the thin yet healthful looking face, even rosy of cheek;--we can see him in his pointed red slippers, his ample trousers of glossy white satin, his long black gown, relieved at the collar and cuffs with fine laces, his hair fallen on his shoulders, beard overflowing his breast;--we can even see the fingers, transparent, singularly flexible in operation, turning leaves, running down pages and smoothing them out, and placing this roll or that book as convenience required, all so lithe, swift, certain, they in a manner exposed the mind which controlled them. at length, the preliminaries finished, the prince raised his eyes, and turned them slowly about--those large, deep, searching eyes--wells from which, without discoverable effort, he drew magnetism at his pleasure. he began simply, his voice distinct, and cast to make itself heard, and not more. "this"--his second finger was on a page of the large volume heretofore described--"this is the bible, the most holy of bibles. i call it the rock on which your faith and mine are castled." there was a stretching of necks to see, and he did not allow the sensation to pass. "and more--it is one of the fifty copies of the bible translated by order of the first constantine, under supervision of his minister eusebius, well known to you for piety and learning." it seemed at first every churchman was on his feet, but directly the emperor observed scholarius and the patriarch seated, the latter diligently crossing himself. the excitement can be readily comprehended by considering the assemblage and its composition of zealots and relic-worshippers, and that, while the tradition respecting the fifty copies was familiar, not a man there could have truly declared he had ever seen one of them--so had they disappeared from the earth. "these are bibles, also," the speaker resumed, upon the restoration of order--"bibles sacred to those unto whom they were given as that imperishable monument to moses and david is to us; for they too are revelations from god--ay, the very same god! this is the _koran_--and these, the _kings_ of the chinese--and these, the _avesta_ of the magians of persia--and these, the _sutras_ well preserved of buddha--and these, the _vedas_ of the patient hindoos, my countrymen." he carefully designated each book and roll by placing his finger on it. "i thank your majesty for the gracious words of introduction you were pleased to give me. they set before my noble and most reverend auditors my history and the subject of my discourse; leaving me, without wrong to their understanding, or waste of time or words, to invite them to think of the years it took to fit myself to read these books--for so i will term them--years spent among the peoples to whom they are divine. and when that thought is in mind, stored there past loss, they will understand what i mean by religion, and the methods i adopted and pursued for its study. then also the value of the assertions i make can be intelligently weighed.... this first--have not all men hands and eyes? we may not be able to read the future in our palms; but there is no excuse for us if we do not at least see god in them. similarity is law, and the law of nature is the will of god. keep the argument with you, o my lord, for it is the earliest lesson i had from my travels.... animals when called to, the caller being on a height over them, never look for him above the level of their eyes; even so some men are incapable of thinking of the mysteries hidden out of sight in the sky; but it is not so with all; and therein behold the partiality of god. the reason of the difference between the leaves of trees not of the same species, is the reason of the inequality of genius among races of men. the infinite prefers variety because he is more certainly to be perceived in it. at this stop now, my lord, mark the second lesson of my travels. god, wishing above all things to manifest himself and his character to all humanity, made choice amongst the races, selecting those superior in genius, and intrusted them with special revelations; whence we have the two kinds of religion, natural and revealed. seeing god in a stone, and worshipping it, is natural religion; the consciousness of god in the heart, an excitant of love and gratitude inexpressible except by prayer and hymns of praise--that, o my lord, is the work and the proof of revealed religion.... i next submit the third of the lessons i have had; but, if i may have your attention to the distinction, it is remarkable as derived from my reading"--here he covered all the books on the table with a comprehensive gesture--"my reading more than my travels; and i call it the purest wisdom because it is not sentiment, at the same time that it is without so much as a strain of philosophy, being a fact clear as any fact deducible from history--yes, my lord, clearer, more distinct, more positive, most undeniable--an incident of the love the universal maker has borne his noblest creatures from their first morning--a godly incident which i have had from the study of these bibles in comparison with each other. in brief, my lord, a revelation not intended for me above the generality of men; nevertheless a revelation to me, since i went seeking it--or shall i call it a recompense for the crown and throne i voluntarily gave away?" the feeling the prince threw into these words took hold of his auditors. not a few of them were struck with awe, somewhat as if he were a saint or prophet, or a missionary from the dead returned with secrets theretofore locked up fast in the grave. they waited for his next saying--his third lesson, as he termed it--with anxiety. "the holy father of light and life," the speaker went on, after a pause referable to his consummate knowledge of men, "has sent his spirit down to the world, not once merely, or unto one people, but repeatedly, in ages sometimes near together, sometimes wide apart, and to races diverse, yet in every instance remarkable for genius." there was a murmur at this, but he gave it no time. "ask you now how i could identify the spirit so as to be able to declare to you solemnly, as i do in fear of god, that in the several repeated appearances of which i speak it was the very same spirit? how do you know the man you met at set of sun yesterday was the man you saluted and had salute from this morning? well, i tell you the father has given the spirit features by which it may be known--features distinct as those of the neighbors nearest you there at your right and left hands. wherever in my reading holy books, like these, i hear of a man, himself a shining example of righteousness, teaching god and the way to god, by those signs i say to my soul: 'oh, the spirit, the spirit! blessed is the man appointed to carry it about!'" again the murmur, but again he passed on. "the spirit dwelt in the holy of holies set apart for it in the tabernacle; yet no man ever saw it there, a thing of sight. the soul is not to be seen; still less is the spirit of the most high; or if one did see it, its brightness would kill him. in great mercy, therefore, it has always come and done its good works in the world veiled; now in one form, now in another; at one time, a voice in the air; at another, a vision in sleep; at another, a burning bush; at another, an angel; at another, a descending dove"-- "bethabara!" shouted a cowled brother, tossing both hands up. "be quiet!" the patriarch ordered. "thus always when its errand was of quick despatch," the prince continued. "but if its coming were for residence on earth, then its habit has been to adopt a man for its outward form, and enter into him, and speak by him; such was moses, such elijah, such were all the prophets, and such"--he paused, then exclaimed shrilly--"such was jesus christ!" in his study at home, the prince had undoubtedly thought out his present delivery with the care due an occasion likely to be a turning-point in his projects, if not his life; and it must at that time have required of him a supreme effort of will to resolve upon this climax; as it was, he hesitated, and turned the hue of ashes; none the less his unknowing auditors renewed their plaudits. even the emperor nodded approvingly. none of them divined the cunning of the speaker; not one thought he was pledging himself by his applause to a kindly hearing of the next point in the speech. "now, my lord, he who lives in a close vale shut in by great mountains, and goes not thence so much as to the top of one of the mountains, to him the vastness and beauty of the world beyond his pent sky-line shall be secret in his old age as they were when he was a child. he has denied himself to them. like him is the man who, thinking to know god, spends his days reading one holy book. i care not if it be this one"--he laid his finger on the _avesta_--"or this one"--in the same manner he signified the _vedas_--"or this one"--touching the _koran_--"or this one"--laying his whole hand tenderly palm down on the most holy bible. "he shall know god--yes, my lord, but not all god has done for men.... i have been to the mountain's top; that is to say, i know these books, o reverend brethren, as you know the beads of your rosaries and what each bead stands for. they did not teach me all there is in the infinite--i am in too much awe for such a folly of the tongue--yet through them i know his spirit has dwelt on earth in men of different races and times; and whether the spirit was the same spirit, i fear not leaving you to judge. if we find in those bearing it about likenesses in ideas, aims, and methods--a supreme god and an evil one, a heaven and a hell, sin and a way to salvation, a soul immortal whether lost or saved--what are we to think? if then, besides these likenesses, we find the other signs of divine authority, acknowledged such from the beginning of the world--mysteries of birth, sinlessness, sacrifices, miracles done--which of you will rise in his place, and rebuke me for saying there were sons of god in spirit before the spirit descended upon jesus christ? nevertheless, that is what i say." here the prince bent over the table pretending to be in search of a page in the most holy book, while--if the expression be pardonable--he watched the audience with his ears. he heard the rustle as the men turned to each other in mute inquiry; he almost heard their question, though they but looked it; otherwise, if it had been dark, the silence would have been tomb-like. at length, raising his head, he beheld a tall, gaunt, sallow person, clad in a monkish gown of the coarsest gray wool, standing and looking at him; the eyes seemed two lights burning in darkened depths; the air was haughty and menacing; and altogether he could not avoid noticing the man. he waited, but the stranger silently kept his feet. "your majesty," the prince began again, perfectly composed, "these are but secondary matters; yet there is such light in them with respect to my main argument, that i think best to make them good by proofs, lest my reverend brethren dismiss me as an idler in words.... behold the bible of the bodhisattwa"--he held up a roll of broad-leafed vellum, and turned it dextrously for better exhibition--"and hear, while i read from it, of a birth, life and death which took place a thousand and twenty-seven years before jesus christ was born." and he read: "'strong and calm of purpose as the earth, pure in mind as the water-lily, her name figuratively assumed, maya, she was in truth above comparison. on her in likeness as the heavenly queen the spirit descended. a mother, but free from grief or pain, she was without deceit.'" the prince stopped reading to ask: "will not my lord see in these words a mary also 'blessed above other women'?" then he read on: ..."'and now the queen maya knew her time for the birth had come. it was the eighth day of the fourth moon, a serene and agreeable season. while she thus religiously observed the rules of a pure discipline, bodhisattwa was born from her right side, come to deliver the world, constrained by great pity, without causing his mother pain or anguish.'" again the prince lifted his eyes from the roll. "what is this, my lord, but an incarnation? hear now of the child: ... 'as one born from recumbent space, and not through the gates of life, men indeed regarded his exceeding great glory, yet their sight remained uninjured; he allowed them to gaze, the brightness of his person concealed for a time, as when we look upon the moon in heaven. his body nevertheless was effulgent with light, and, like the sun which eclipses the shining of the lamp, so the true gold-like beauty of bodhisattwa shone forth and was everywhere diffused. upright and firm, and unconfused in mind, he deliberately took seven steps, the soles of his feet resting evenly upon the ground as he went, his footmarks remained bright as seven stars. moving like the lion, king of beasts, and looking earnestly toward the four quarters, penetrating to the centre the principles of truth, he spoke thus with the fullest assurance: this birth is in the condition of buddha; after this i have done with renewed birth; _now only am i born this once, for the purpose of saving all the world._'" a third time the prince stopped, and, throwing up his hand to command attention, he asked: "my lord, who will say this was not also a redeemer? see now what next ensued"--and he read on: "'and now from the midst of heaven there descended two streams of pure water, one warm, the other cold, and baptized his head.'" pausing again, the speaker searched the faces of his auditors on the right and left, while he exclaimed in magnetic repetition: "baptism--_baptism_--baptism and miracle!" constantine sat, like the rest, his attention fixed; but the gray-clad monk still standing grimly raised a crucifix before him as if taking refuge behind it. "my lord is seeing the likenesses these things bear to the conception, birth and mission of jesus christ, the later blessed one, who is nevertheless his first in love. he is comparing the incidents of the two incarnations of the spirit or holy ghost; he is asking himself: 'can there have been several sons of god?' and he is replying: 'that were indeed merciful--blessed be god!'" the emperor made no sign one way or the other. "suffer me to help my lord yet a little more," the prince continued, apparently unobservant of the lowering face behind the crucifix. "he remembers angels came down the night of the nativity in the cave by bethlehem; he cannot forget the song they sung to the shepherds. how like these honors to the bodhisattwa!"--and he read from the roll: ... "'meanwhile the devas'--angels, if my lord pleases--'the devas in space, seizing their jewelled canopies, attending, raise in responsive harmony their heavenly songs to encourage him.' nor was this all, my lord," and he continued reading: "'on every hand the world was greatly shaken.... the minutest atoms of sandal perfume, and the hidden sweetness of precious lilies, floated on the air, and rose through space, and then commingling came back to earth.... all cruel and malevolent kinds of beings together conceived a loving heart; all diseases and afflictions amongst men, without a cure applied, of themselves were healed; the cries of beasts were hushed; the stagnant waters of the river courses flowed apace; no clouds gathered on the heavens, while angelic music, self-caused, was heard around.... so when bodhisattwa was born, he came to remove the sorrows of all living things. mara alone was grieved.' o my reverend brethren!" cried the prince, fervently, "who was this mara that he should not share in the rejoicing of all nature else? in christian phrase, satan, and mara alone was grieved." "do the likenesses stop with the births, my brethren are now asking. let us follow the bodhisattwa. on reaching the stage of manhood, he also retired into the wilderness. 'the valley of the se-na was level and full of fruit trees, with no noxious insects,' say these scriptures: 'and there he dwelt under a sala tree. and he fasted nigh to death. the devas offered him sweet dew, but he rejected it, and took but a grain of millet a day.' now what think you of this as a parallel incident of his sojourn in the wilderness?" and he read: ... "'mara devaraga, enemy of religion, alone was grieved, and rejoiced not. he had three daughters, mincingly beautiful, and of a pleasant countenance. with them, and all his retinue, he went to the grove of "fortunate rest," vowing the world should not find peace, and there'"--the prince forsook the roll--"'and there he tempted bodhisattwa, and menaced him, a legion of devils assisting.' the daughters, it is related, were changed to old women, and of the battle this is written: ... 'and now the demon host waxed fiercer, and added force to force, grasping at stones they could not lift, or lifting them they could not let them go; their flying spears stuck fast in space refusing to descend; the angry thunder-drops and mighty hail, with them, were changed into five-colored lotus flowers; while the foul poison of the dragon snakes was turned into spicy-breathing air'--and mara fled, say the scriptures, fled gnashing his teeth, while bodhisattwa reposed peacefully under a fall of heavenly flowers." the prince, looking about him after this, said calmly: "now judge i by myself; not a heart here but hears in the intervals of its beating, the text: 'then was jesus led up by the spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of the devil'--and that other text: 'then the devil leaveth him, and behold, angels came and ministered unto him.' verily, my lord, was not the spirit the same spirit, and did it not in both incarnations take care of its own?" thereupon the prince again sought for a page on the roll, watching the while with his ears, and the audience drew long breaths, and rested from their rigor of attention. then also the emperor spoke to the prince. "i pray you, prince of india, take a little rest. your labor is of the kind exhaustive to mind and body: and in thought of it, i ordered refreshments for you and these, my other guests. is not this a good time to renew thyself?" the prince, rising from a low reverence, replied: "indeed your majesty has the kingly heart; but i pray you, in return, hear me until i have brought the parallel, my present point of argument, to an end; then i will most gladly avail myself of your great courtesy; after which--your patience, and the goodwill of these reverend fathers, holding on--i will resume and speedily finish my discourse." "as you will. we are most interested. or"--and the emperor, glancing over toward the monk on his feet, said coldly: "or, if my declaration does not fairly vouch the feeling of all present, those objecting have permission to retire upon the adjournment. we will hear you, prince." the ascetic answered by lifting his crucifix higher. then, having found the page he wanted, the prince, holding his finger upon it, proceeded: "it would not become me, my lord, to assume an appearance of teaching you and this audience, most learned in the gospels, concerning them, especially the things said by the blessed one of the later incarnation, whom we call the christ. we all know the spirit for which he was both habitation and tongue, came down to save the world from sin and hell; we also know what he required for the salvation. so, even so, did bodhisattwa. listen to him now--he is talking to his disciples: ... 'i will teach you,' he said, to the faithful ananda, 'a way of truth, called the mirror of truth, which, if an elect disciple possess, he may himself predict of himself, "hell is destroyed for me, and rebirth as an animal, or a ghost, or any place of woe. i am converted. i am no longer liable to be reborn in a state of suffering, and am assured of final salvation."'... ah, your majesty is asking, will the parallel never end? not yet, not yet! for the bodhisattwa did miracles as well. i read again: ... 'and the blessed one came once to the river ganges, and found it overflowing. those with him, designing to cross, began to seek for boats, some for rafts of wood, while some made rafts of basket-work. then the blessed one, as instantaneously as a strong man would stretch forth his arm and draw it back again when he had stretched it forth, vanished from this side of the river, and stood on the further bank with the company of his brethren.'" the stir the quotation gave rise to being quieted, the prince, quitting the roll, said: "like that, my lord, was the bodhisattwa's habit on entering assemblies of men, to become of their color--he, you remember, was from birth of the color of gold just flashed in the crucible--and in a voice like theirs instructing them. then, say the scriptures, they, not knowing him, would ask, who may this be that speaks? a man or a god? then he would vanish away. like that again was his purifying the water which had been stirred up by the wheels of five hundred carts passing through it. he was thirsty, and at his bidding his companion filled a cup, and lo! the water was clear and delightful. still more decided, when he was dying there was a mighty earthquake, and the thunders of heaven broke forth, and the spirits stood about to see him until there was no spot, say the scriptures, in size even as the pricking of the point of the tip of a hair not pervaded with them; and he saw them, though they were invisible to his disciples; and then when the last reverence of his five hundred brethren was paid at his feet, the pyre being ready, it took fire of itself, and there was left of his body neither soot nor ashes--only the bones for relics. then, again, as the pyre had kindled itself, so when the body was burned up streams of water descended from the skies, and other streams burst from the earth, and extinguished the fire. finally, my lord, the parallel ends in the modes of death. bodhisattwa chose the time and place for himself, and the circumstances of his going were in harmony with his heavenly character. death was never arrayed in such beauty. the twin sala trees, one at the head of his couch, the other at the foot, though out of season, sprinkled him with their flowers, and the sky rained powder of sandal-wood, and trembled softly with the incessant music and singing of the floating gandharvis. but he whose soul was the spirit, last incarnate, the christ"--the prince stopped--the blood forsook his face--he took hold of the table to keep from falling--and the audience arose in alarm. "look to the prince!" the emperor commanded. those nearest the ailing man offered him their arms, but with a mighty effort he spoke to them naturally: "thank you, good friends--it is nothing." then he said louder: "it is nothing, my lord--it is gone now. i was about to say of the christ, how different was his dying, and with that ends the parallel between him and the bodhisattwa as sons of god.... now, if it please your majesty, i will not longer detain your guests from the refreshments awaiting them." a chair was brought for him; and when he was seated, a long line of servants in livery appeared with the collation. in a short time the prince was himself again. the mention of the saviour, in connection with his death, had suddenly projected the scene of the crucifixion before him, and the sight of the cross and the sufferer upon it had for the moment overcome him. chapter xvi how the new faith was received it had been better for the prince of india if he had not consented to the intermission graciously suggested by the emperor. the monk with the hollow eyes who had arisen and posed behind his crucifix, like an exorcist, was no other than george scholarius, whom, for the sake of historical conformity, we shall from this call gennadius; and far from availing himself of his majesty's permission to retire, that person was observed to pass industriously from chair to chair circulating some kind of notice. of the refreshments he would none; his words were few, his manner earnest; and to him, beyond question, it was due that when order was again called, the pleasure the prince drew from seeing every seat occupied was dashed by the scowling looks which met him from all sides. the divining faculty, peculiarly sharpened in him, apprised him instantly of an influence unfriendly to his project--a circumstance the more remarkable since he had not as yet actually stated any project. upon taking the floor, the prince placed the large judean bible before him opened, and around it his other references, impressing the audience with an idea that in his own view the latter were of secondary importance. "my lord, and reverend sirs," he began, with a low salutation to the emperor, "the fulness of the parallel i have run between the bodhisattwa, son of maya, and jesus christ, son of mary, may lead to a supposition that they were the only blessed ones who have appeared in the world honored above men because they were chosen for the incarnation of the spirit. in these scriptures," unrolling the _sutra_ or _book of the great decease_--"frequent statements imply a number of tathagatas or buddhas of irregular coming. in this"--putting a finger on a chinese _king_--"time is divided into periods termed _kalpas_, and in one place it is said ninety-eight buddhas illuminated one kalpa [footnote: eakin's chinese buddhism, .]--that is, came and taught as saviours. nor shall any man deny the spirit manifest in each of them was the same spirit. they preached the same holy doctrine, pointed out the same road to salvation, lived the same pure unworldly lives, and all alike made a declaration of which i shall presently speak; in other words, my lord, the features of the spirit were the same in all of them.... here in these rolls, parts of the sacred books of the east, we read of shun. i cannot fix his days, they were so long ago. indeed, i only know he must have been an adopted of the spirit by his leaving behind him the tao, or law, still observed among the chinese as their standard of virtue.... here also is the _avesta_, most revered remains of the magi, from whom, as many suppose, the wise men who came up to jerusalem witnesses of the birth of the new king of the jews were sent." this too he identified with his finger. "its teacher is zarathustra, and, in my faith, the spirit descended upon him and abode with him while he was on the earth. the features all showed themselves in him--in his life, his instruction, and in the honors paid him through succeeding generations. his religion yet lives, though founded hundreds of years before your gentle nazarene walked the waters of galilee.... and here, o my lord, is a book abhorred by christians"--he laid his whole hand on the koran--"how shall it be judged? by the indifferent manner too many of those ready to die defending its divine origin observe it? alas! what religion shall survive that test? in the visions of mahomet i read of god, moses, the patriarchs--nay, my lord, i read of him called the christ. shall we not beware lest in condemning mahomet we divest this other bible"--he reverently touched the great eusebian volume--"of some of its superior holiness? he calls himself a prophet. can a man prophesy except he have in him the light of the spirit?" the question awoke the assemblage. a general signing of the cross was indulged in by the fathers, and there was groaning hard to distinguish from growls. gennadius kept his seat, nervously playing with his rosary. the countenance of the patriarch was unusually grave. in all his experience it is doubtful if the prince ever touched a subject requiring more address than this dealing with the koran. he resumed without embarrassment: "now, my lord, i shall advance a step nearer my real subject. think not, i pray, that the things i have spoken of the bodhisattwa, of shun, of zarathustra, of mahomet, likening them in their entertainment of the spirit to jesus, was to excite comparisons; such as which was the holiest, which did the most godly things, which is most worthy to be accounted the best beloved of the father; for i come to bury all strife of the kind.... i said i had been to the mountain's top; and now, my lord, did you demand of me to single out and name the greatest of the wonders i thence beheld, i should answer: neither on the sea, nor on the land, nor in the sky is there a wonder like unto the perversity which impels men to invent and go on inventing religions and sects, and then persecute each other on account of them. and when i prayed to be shown the reason of it, i thought i heard a voice, 'open thine eyes--see!' ... and the first thing given me to see was that the blessed ones who went about speaking for the spirit which possessed them were divine; yet they walked the earth, not as gods, but witnesses of god; asking hearing and belief, not worship; begging men to come unto them as guides sent to show them the only certain way to everlasting life in glory--only that and nothing more.... the next thing i saw, a bright light in a white glass set on a dark hill, was the waste of worship men are guilty of in bestowing it on inferior and often unworthy objects. when jesus prayed, it was to our father in heaven, was it not?--meaning not to himself, or anything human, or anything less than human.... one other thing i was permitted to see; and the reserving it last is because it lies nearest the proposal i have come a great distance to submit to my lord and these most reverend brethren in holiness. every place i have been in which men are not left to their own imaginings of life and religion--in every land and island touched by revelation--a supreme god is recognized, the same in qualities--creator, protector, father--infinite in power, infinite in love--the indivisible one! asked you never, my lord, the object he had in intrusting his revelation to us, and why the blessed ones, his sons in the spirit, were bid come here and go yonder by stony paths? let me answer with what force is left me. there is in such permissions but one intention which a respectful mind can assign to a being great and good as god--one altar, one worship, one prayer, and he the soul of them. with a flash of his beneficent thought he saw in one religion peace amongst men. strange--most strange! in human history no other such marvel! there has been nothing so fruitful of bickering, hate, murder and war. such is the seeming, and so i thought, my lord, until on the mountain's highest peak, whence all concerns lie in view below, i opened my eyes and perceived the wrestling of tongues and fighting were not about god, but about forms, and immaterialities, more especially the blessed ones to whom he had intrusted his spirit. from the ceylonesian: 'who is worthy praise but buddha?' 'no,' the islamite answers: 'who but mahomet?' and from the parsee; 'no--who but zarathustra?' 'have done with your vanities,' the christian thunders: 'who has told the truth like jesus?' then the flame of swords, and the cruelty of blows--all in god's name!" this was bold speaking. "and now, my lord," the prince went on, his appearance of exceeding calmness belied only by the exceeding brightness of his eyes, "god wills an end to controversy and wars blasphemously waged in his name, and i am sent to tell you of it; and for that the spirit is in me." here gennadius again arose, crucifix in hand. "i am returned from visiting many of the nations," the prince continued, nothing daunted. "they demanded of me a faith broad enough for them to stand upon while holding fast the lesser ideas grown up in their consciences; and, on my giving them such a faith, they said they were ready to do the will, but raised a new condition. some one must move first. 'go find that one,' they bade me, 'and we will follow after.' in saying now i am ambassador appointed to bring the affair to your majesty and your majesty's people, enlightened enough to see the will of the supreme master, and of a courage to lead in the movement, with influence and credit to carry it peacefully forward to a glorious end, i well know how idle recommendation and entreaty are except i satisfy you in the beginning that they have the sanction of heaven; and thereto now.... i take no honor to myself as author of the faith presented in answer to the demand of the nations. in old cities there are houses under houses, along streets underlying streets, and to find them, the long buried, men dig deep and laboriously; that did i, until in these old testaments"--he cast a loving glance at all the sacred books--"i made a precious discovery. i pray your majesty's patience while i read from them.... this from the judean bible: 'and god said unto moses, i am that i am: and he said, this shalt thou say unto the children of israel, i am hath sent me unto you.' thus did god, of whom we have no doubt, name himself to one chosen race.... next from a holy man of china who lived nearly five hundred years before the christ was born: 'although any one be a bad man, if he fasts and is collected, he may indeed offer sacrifices unto god.' [footnote: faber's _mind of mencius_]... and from the _avesta_, this of the creed of the magi: 'the world is twofold, being the work of ahura mazda and angra mainyu: all that is good in the world comes from the first principle (which is god) and all that is bad from the latter (which is satan). angra mainyu invaded the world after it was made by ahura mazda and polluted it, but the conflict will some day end.' [footnote: sir william jones.] the first principle here is god. but most marvellous, because of the comparison it will excite, hearken to this from the same magian creed: 'when the time is full, a son of the lawgiver still unborn, named saoshyant, will appear; then angra mainyu (satan) and hell will be destroyed, men will arise from the dead, and everlasting happiness reign over the world.' here again the lawgiver is god; but the son--who is he? has he come? is he gone? ... next, take these several things from the _vedas_: 'by one supreme ruler is the universe pervaded, even every world in the whole circle of nature. there is one supreme spirit which nothing can shake, more swift than the thought of man. the primeval mover even divine intelligence cannot reach; that spirit, though unmoved, infinitely transcends others, how rapid soever their course; it is distant from us, yet very near; it pervades the whole system of worlds, yet is infinitely beyond it.' [footnote: _ibid._ vol. xiii.] now, my lord, and very reverend sirs, do not the words quoted come to us clean of mystery? or have you the shadow of a doubt whom they mean, accept and consider the prayer i read you now from the same _vedas:_ 'o thou who givest sustenance to the world, thou sole mover of all, thou who restrainest sinners, who pervadest yon great luminary which appearest as the son of the creator; hide thy struggling beams and expand thy spiritual brightness that i may view thy most auspicious, most glorious, real form. om, remember me, divine spirit! om, remember my deeds! let my soul return to the immortal spirit of god, and then let my body, which ends in ashes, return to dust.' who is om? or is my lord yet uncertain, let him heed this from the _holiest verse of the vedas_: 'without hand or foot, he runs rapidly, and grasps firmly; without eyes, he sees; without ears, he hears all; he knows whatever can be known, but there is none who knows him: him the wise call the great, supreme, pervading spirit.' [footnote: sir william jones. vol. xiii.] ... now once more, o my lord, and i am done with citation and argument. ananda asked the bodhisattwa what was the mirror of truth, and he had this answer: 'it is the consciousness that the elect disciple is in this world possessed of faith in buddha, believing the blessed one to be the holy one, the fully enlightened one, wise, upright, happy, world-knowing, supreme, the bridler of men's wayward hearts, the teacher of gods and men--the blessed buddha.' [footnote: rehys david's _buddhist sutras_.] oh, good my lord, a child with intellect barely to name the mother who bore him, should see and say, here god is described!" ... the prince came to a full stop, and taking a fine silken cloth from a pocket in his gown, he carefully wiped the open pages of the eusebian bible, and shut it. of the other books he made a separate heap, first dusting each of them. the assemblage watched him expectantly. the fathers had been treated to strange ideas, matter for thought through many days and nights ahead; still each of them felt the application was wanting. "the purpose--give it us--and quickly!" would have been a fair expression of their impatience. at length he proceeded: "dealing with children, my lord, and reverend sirs," he began, "it is needful to stop frequently, and repeat the things we have said; but you are men trained in argument: wherefore, with respect to the faith asked of me as i have told you by the nations, i say simply it is god; and touching his sanction of it, you may wrest these testaments from me and make ashes of them, but you shall not now deny his approval of the faith i bring you. it is not in the divine nature for god to abjure himself. who of you can conceive him shrunk to so small a measure?" the dogmatic vehemence amazed the listeners. "whether this idea of god is broad enough to accommodate all the religions grown up on the earth, i will not argue; for i desire to be most respectful"--thus the speaker went on in his natural manner. "but should you accept it as enough, you need not be at loss for a form in which to put it. 'master,' the lawyer asked, 'which is the great commandment in the law?' and the master answered: 'thou shalt love the lord thy god with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind;' and he added: 'this is the first and great commandment.' my lord, no man else ever invented, nor shall any man ever invent an expression more perfectly definitive of the highest human duty--the total of doctrine. i will not tell you who the master uttering it was; neither will i urge its adoption; only if the world were to adopt it, and abide by it, there would be an end to wars and rumors of war, and god would have his own. if the church here in your ancient capital were first to accept it, what happiness i should have carrying the glad tidings to the peoples"-- the prince was not allowed to finish the sentence. "what do i understand, o prince, by the term 'total of doctrine'?" it was the patriarch speaking. "belief in god." in a moment the assemblage became uproarious, astounding the emperor; and in the midst of the excitement, gennadius was seen on tip-toe, waving his crucifix with the energy of command. "question--a question!" he cried. quiet was presently given him. "in thy total of doctrine, what is jesus christ?" the voice of the patriarch, enfeebled by age and disease, had been scarcely heard; his rival's penetrated to the most distant corner; and the question happening to be the very thought pervading the assemblage, the churchmen, the courtiers, and most of the high officials arose to hear the reply. in a tone distinct as his interlocutor's, but wholly without passion, the master actor returned: "a son of god." "and mahomet, the father of islam--what is he?" if the ascetic had put the name of siddartha, the bodhisattwa, in his second question, his probing had not been so deep, nor the effect so quick and great; but mahomet, the camel-driver! centuries of feud, hate, crimination, and wars--rapine, battles, sieges, massacres, humiliations, lopping of territory, treaties broken, desecration of churches, spoliation of altars, were evoked by the name mahomet. we have seen it a peculiarity of the prince of india never to forget a relation once formed by him. now behind constantine he beheld young mahommed waiting for him--mahommed and revenge. if his scheme were rejected by the greeks, very well--going to the turks would be the old exchange with which he was familiar, cross for crescent. to be sure there was little time to think this; nor did he think it--it appeared and went a glare of light--and he answered: "he will remain, in the spirit another of the sons of god." then gennadius, beating the air with his crucifix: "liar--impostor--traitor! ambassador of satan thou! behind thee hell uncurtained! mahomet himself were more tolerable! thou mayst turn black white, quench water with fire, make ice of the blood in our hearts, all in a winking or slowly, our reason resisting, but depose the pure and blessed saviour, or double his throne in the invisible kingdom with mahomet, prince of liars, man of blood, adulterer, monster for whom hell had to be enlarged--that shalt thou never! a body without a soul, an eye its light gone out, a tomb rifled of its dead--such the church without its christ! ... ho, brethren! shame on us that we are guests in common with this fiend in cunning! we are not hosts to bid him begone; yet we can ourselves begone. follow me, o lovers of christ and the church! to your tents, o israel!" the speaker's face was purple with passion; his voice filled the chamber; many of the monks broke from their seats and rushed howling and blindly eager to get nearer him. the patriarch sat ashy white, helplessly crossing himself. constantine excellently and rapidly judging what became him as emperor and host, sent four armed officers to protect the prince, who held his appointed place apparently surprised but really interested in the scene--to him it was an exhibition of unreasoning human nature replying to an old-fashioned impulse of bigotry. hardly were the guards by the table, when gennadius rushed past going to the door, the schismatics at his heels in a panic. the pulling and hauling, the hurry-skurry of the mad exit must be left to the imagination. it was great enough to frighten thoroughly the attendants of the princess irene. directly there remained in the chamber with his majesty, the attaches of the court, the patriarch and his adherents. then constantine quietly asked: "where is duke notaras?" there was much looking around, but no response. the countenance of the monarch was observed to change, but still mindful, he bade the dean conduct the prince to him. "be not alarmed, prince. my people are quick of temper, and sometimes they act hastily. if you have more to say, we are of a mind to hear you to the end." the prince could not but admire the composure of his august host. after a low reverence, he returned: "perhaps i tried the reverend fathers unreasonably; yet it would be a much greater grief to me if their impatience extended to your majesty. i was not alarmed; neither have i aught to add to my discourse, unless it pleases you to ask of anything in it which may have been left obscure or uncertain." constantine signed to the patriarch and all present to draw nearer. "good dean, a chair for his serenity." in a short time the space in front of the dais was occupied. "i understand the prince of india has submitted to us a proposal looking to a reform of our religion," his majesty said, to the patriarch; "and courtesy requiring an answer, the violence to which we have just been subjected, and the spirit of insubordination manifested, make it imperative that you listen to what i now return him, and with attention, lest a misquotation or false report lead to further trouble.... prince," he continued, "i think i comprehend you. the world is sadly divided with respect to religion, and out of its divisions have proceeded the mischiefs to which you have referred. your project is not to be despised. it reminds me of the song, the sweetest ear ever listened to--'peace and good will toward men.' its adoption, nevertheless, is another matter. i have not power to alter the worship of my empire. our present creed was a conclusion reached by a council too famous in history not to be conspicuously within your knowledge. every word of it is infinitely sacred. it fixed the relations between god the father, christ the son, and men to my satisfaction, and that of my subjects. serenity, do thou say if i may apply the remark to the church." "your majesty," the patriarch replied, "the holy greek church can never consent to omit the lord jesus christ from its worship. you have spoken well, and it had been better if the brethren had remained to hear you." "thanks, o most venerated--thanks," said the emperor, inclining his head. "a council having established the creed of the church," he resumed, to the prince of india, "the creed is above change to the extent of a letter except by another council solemnly and authoritatively convoked. wherefore, o prince, i admit myself wiser of the views you have presented; i admit having been greatly entertained by your eloquence and rhetoric; and i promise myself further happiness and profit in drawing upon the stores of knowledge with which you appear so amply provided, results doubtless of your study and travel--yet you have my answer." the faculty of retiring his thoughts and feelings deeper in his heart as occasion demanded, was never of greater service to the prince than now; he bowed, and asked if he had permission to retire; and receiving it, he made the usual prostrations, and began moving backwards. "a moment, prince," said constantine. "i hope your residence is permanently fixed in our capital." "your majesty is very gracious, and i thank you. if i leave the city, it will be to return again, and speedily." at the door of the palace the prince found an escort waiting for him, and taking his chair, he departed from blacherne. chapter xvii lael and the sword of solomon alone in his house, the prince of india was unhappy, but not, as the reader may hurriedly conclude, on account of the rejection by the christians of his proposal looking to brotherhood in the bonds of religion. he was a trifle sore over the failure, but not disappointed. a reasonable man, and, what times his temper left him liberty to think, a philosopher, he could not hope after the observations he brought from mecca to find the followers of the nazarene more relaxed in their faith than the adherents of mahomet. in short, he had gone to the palace warned of what would happen. it was not an easy thing for him to fold up his grand design preparatory to putting it away forever; still there was no choice left him; and now he would move for vengeance. away with hesitation. descending the heights of blacherne, he had felt pity for constantine who, though severely tried in the day's affair, had borne himself with dignity throughout; but it was mahommed's hour. welcome mahommed! between the two, the prince's predilections were all for the turk, and they had been from the meeting at the white castle. besides personal accomplishments and military prestige, besides youth, itself a mighty preponderant, there was the other argument--separating mahommed from the strongest power in the world, there stood only an ancient whose death was a daily expectation. "what opportunities the young man will have to offer me! i have but to make the most of his ambition--to loan myself to it--to direct it." thus the seer reasoned, returning from blacherne to his house. at the door, however, he made a discovery. there the first time during the day he thought of her in all things the image of the lael whom he had buried under the great stone in front of the golden gate at jerusalem. we drop a grain in the ground, and asking nothing of us but to be let alone, it grows, and flowers, and at length amazes us with fruit. such had been the outcome of his adoption of the daughter of the son of jahdai. the prince called syama. "make ready the chair and table on the roof," he said. while waiting, he ate some bread dipped in wine: then walked the room rubbing his hands as if washing them. he sighed frequently. even the servants could see he was in trouble. at length he went to the roof. evening was approaching. on the table were the lamp, the clock, the customary writing materials, a fresh map of the heavens, and a perfect diagram of a nativity to be cast. he took the map in his hand, and smiled--it was lael's work. "how she has improved!--and how rapidly!" he said aloud, ending a retrospect which began with the hour uel consented to her becoming his daughter. she was unlettered then, but how helpful now. he felt an artist's pride in her growth in knowledge. there were tedious calculations which she took off his hands; his geometrical drawings of the planets in their houses were frequently done in haste; she perfected them next day. she had numberless daughterly ways which none but those unused to them like him would have observed. what delight she took in watching the sky for the first appearance of the stars. in this work she lent him her young eyes, and there was such enthusiasm in the exclamations with which she greeted the earliest wink of splendor from the far-off orbs. and he had ailing days; then she would open the great eusebian scriptures at the page he asked for, and read--sometimes from job, sometimes from isaiah, but generally from exodus, for in his view there was never man like moses. the contest with pharaoh--how prodigious! the battles in magic--what glory in the triumphs won! the luring the haughty king into the red sea, and bringing him under the walls of water suddenly let loose! what majestic vengeance! of the idle dreams of aged persons the possibility of attaching the young to them in sentimental bonds of strength to insure resistance to every other attachment is the idlest. positive, practical, experienced though he was, the childless man had permitted this fantasy to get possession of him. he actually brought himself to believe lael's love of him was of that enduring kind. with no impure purpose, yet selfishly, and to bring her under his influence until of preference she could devote her life to him, with its riches of affection, admiration, and dutiful service, he had surrendered himself to her; therefore the boundless pains taken by him personally in her education, the surrounding her with priceless luxuries which he alone could afford--in brief, the attempt to fasten himself upon her youthful fancy as a titled sage and master of many mysteries. so at length it came to pass, while he was happy in his affection for her, he was even happier in her affection for himself; indeed he cultivated the latter sentiment and encouraged it in winding about his being until, in utter unconsciousness, he belonged to it, and, in repetition of experiences common to others, instead of lael's sacrificing herself for him, he was ready to sacrifice everything for her. this was the discovery he made at the door of his house. the reader should try to fancy him in the chair by the table on the roof. evening has passed into night. the city gives out no sound, and the stars have the heavens to themselves. he is lost in thought--or rather, accepting the poetic fancy of a division of the heart into chambers, in that apartment of the palpitating organ of the prince of india supposed to be the abode of the passions, a very noisy parliament was in full session. the speaker--that is, the prince himself--submitted the question: shall i remain here, or go to mahommed? awhile he listened to revenge, whose speech in favor of the latter alternative may be imagined; and not often had its appeals been more effective. ambition spoke on the same side. it pointed out the opportunities offered, and dwelt upon them until the chairman nodded like one both convinced and determined. these had an assistant not exactly a passion but a kinsman collaterally--love of mischief--and when the others ceased, it insisted upon being heard. on the other side, lael led the opposition. she stood by the president's chair while her opponents were arguing, her arms round his neck; when they were most urgent, she would nurse his hand, and make use of some trifling endearment; upon their conclusion, she would gaze at him mutely, and with tears. not once did she say anything. in the midst of this debate, lael herself appeared, and kissed him on the forehead. "thou here!" he said. "why not?" she asked. "nothing--only"-- she did not give him time to finish, but caught up the map, and seeing it fresh and unmarked, exclaimed: "you did so greatly to-day, you ought to rest." he was surprised. "did so greatly?" "at the palace." "put the paper down. now, o my gul bahar"--and he took her hand, and carried it to his cheek, and pressed it softly there--"deal me no riddle. what is it you say? one may do well, yet come out badly." "i was at the market in my father uel's this afternoon," she began, "when sergius came in." a face wonderfully like the face of the man he helped lead out to golgotha flashed before the prince, a briefest passing gleam. "he heard you discourse before the emperor. how wickedly that disgusting gennadius behaved!" "yes," the prince responded darkly, "a sovereign beset with such spirits is to be pitied. but what did the young man think of my proposal to the emperor?" "but for one verse in the testament of christ"-- "nay, dear, say jesus of nazareth." "well, of jesus--but for one verse he could have accepted your argument of many sons of god in the spirit." "what is the verse?" "it is where a disciple speaks of jesus as the only begotten. son." the wanderer smiled. "the young man is too literal. he forgets that the only begotten son may have had many incarnations." "the princess irene was also present," lael went on. "sergius said she too could accept your argument did you alter it"-- "alter it!"--a bitter look wrung the prince's countenance--"sergius, a monk not yet come to orders, and irene, a princess without a husband. oh, a small return for my surrender! ... i am tired--very tired," he said impatiently--"and i have so much, so much to think of. come, good night." "can i do nothing for you?" "yes, tell syama to bring me some water." "and wine?" "yes, some wine." "very well. good night." he drew her to his breast. "good night. o my gul bahar!" she went lightly away, never dreaming of the parliament to which she left him. when she was gone, he sat motionless for near an hour, seeing nothing in the time, although syama set water and wine on the table. and it may be questioned if he heard anything, except the fierce debate going on in his heart. finally he aroused, looked at the sky, arose, and walked around the table; and his expression of face, his actions, were those of a man who had been treading difficult ground, but was safely come out of it. filling a small crystal cup, and holding the red liquor, rich with garnet sparkles, between his eyes and the lamp, he said: "it is over. she has won. if there were for me but the years of one life, the threescore and ten of the psalmist, it had been different. the centuries will bring me a mahommed gallant as this one, and opportunities great as he offers; but never another lael. farewell ambition! farewell revenge! the world may take care of itself. i will turn looker-on, and be amused, and sleep.... to hold her, i will live for her, but in redoubled state. so will i hurry her from splendor to splendor, and so fill her days with moving incidents, she shall not have leisure to think of another love. i will be powerful and famous for her sake. here in this old centre of civilization there shall be two themes for constant talk, constantine and myself. against his rank and patronage, i will set my wealth. ay, for her sake! and i will begin to-morrow." the next day he spent in making drawings and specifications for a palace. the second day he traversed the city looking for a building site. the third day he bought the site most to his fancy. the fourth day he completed a design for a galley of a hundred oars, that it might be sea-going far as the pillars of hercules. nothing ever launched from the imperial docks should surpass it in magnificence. when he went sailing on the bosphorus, byzantium should assemble to witness his going, and with equal eagerness wait the day through to behold him return. and for the four days, lael was present and consulted in every particular. they talked like two children. the schemes filled him with a delight which would have been remarkable in a boy. he packed his books and put away his whole paraphernalia of study--through lael's days he would be an actor in the social world, not a student. of course he recurred frequently to the engagements with mahommed. they did not disturb him. the turk might clamor--no matter, there was the ever ready answer about the unready stars. the veteran intriguer even laughed, thinking how cunningly he had provided against contingencies. but there was a present practical requirement begotten of these schemes--he must have money--soldans by the bag full. very early in the morning of the fifth day, having studied the weather signs from his housetop, he went with nilo to the harbor gate of blacherne, seeking a galley suitable for an outing of a few days on the marmora. he found one, and by noon she was fitted out, and with him and nilo aboard, flying swiftly around point serail. under an awning over the rudder-deck, he sat observing the brown-faced wall of the city, and the pillars and cornices of the noble structures towering above it. as the vessel was about passing the seven towers, now a ruin with a most melancholy history, but in that day a well-garrisoned fortress, he conversed with the master of the galley. "i have no business in the strict meaning of the term," he said, in good humor. "the city has become tiresome to me, and i have fancied a run on the water would be bracing to body and restful to mind. so keep on down the sea. when i desire a change of direction, i will tell you." the mariner was retiring. "stay," the prince continued, his attention apparently caught by two immense gray rocks rising bluffly out of the blue rippling in which the isles of the princes seemed afloat--"what are those yonder? islands, of course, but their names?" "oxia and plati--the one nearest us is oxia." "are they inhabited?" "yes and no," the captain replied, smiling. "oxia used to have a convent, but it is abandoned now. there may be some hermits in the caves on the other side, but i doubt if the poor wretches have noumias to keep their altars in candles. it was so hard to coax visitors into believing god had ever anything to do with the dreary place that patrons concluded to give it over to the bad. plati is a trifle more cheerful. three or four monks keep what used to be the prison there; but they are strays from unknown orders, and live by herding a few starving goats and cultivating snails for the market." "have you been on either of them recently?" "yes, on plati." "when?" "within the year." "well, you excite my curiosity. it is incredible that there can be two such desolations in such close vicinity to yon famous capital. turn and row me around them." the captain was pleased to gratify his passenger, and stood by him while the galley encircled oxia, telling legends, and pointing out the caves to which celebrated anchorites had lent their names. he gave in full the story of basil and prusien, who quarrelled, and fought a duel to the scandal of the church; whereupon constantine viii., then emperor, exiled them, the former to oxia, the latter to plati, where their sole consolation the remainder of their lives was gazing at each other from the mouths of their respective caverns. for some reason, plati, to which he next crossed, was of more interest to the prince than its sister isle. what a cruel exterior the prison at the north end had! wolves and bats might live in it, but men--impossible! he drew back horrified when told circumstantially of the underground cells. while yet on the eastern side, the passenger said he would like to go up to the summit. "there," he exclaimed, pointing to a part of the bluff which appeared to offer a climb, "put me on that shelving rock. i think i can go up by it." the small boat was lowered, and directly he set foot on the identical spot which received him when, in the night fifty-six years before, he made the ascent with the treasures of hiram king of tyre. almost any other man would have given at least a thought to that adventure; the slice out of some lives would have justified a tear; but he was too intent thinking about the jewels and the sword of solomon. his affected awkwardness in climbing amused the captain, watching him from the deck, but at last he gained the top of the bluff. the plain there was the same field of sickly weeds and perishing vines, with here and there a shrub, and yonder a stunted olive tree, covered trunk and branches with edible snails. if it brought anything in the market, the crop, singular only to the western mind, was plenteous enough to be profitable to its farmers. there too was the debris of the tower. with some anxiety he went to the stone which the reader will probably remember as having to be rolled away from the mouth of the hiding-place. it had not been disturbed. these observations taken, he descended the bluff, and was received aboard the galley. a very cautious man was the prince of india. in commercial parlance, he was out to cash a draft on the plati branch of his quadruple bank. he was not down to assist the captain of the galley to partnership with him in the business. so, after completing the circuit of plati, the vessel bore away for prinkipo and halki, which greek wealth and taste had converted into dreamful paradises. there it lay the night and next day, while the easy-going passenger, out for air and rest, amused himself making excursions to the convents and neighboring hills. the second night, a perfect calm prevailing, he took the small boat, and went out on the sea drifting, having provided himself with wine and water, the latter in a new gurglet bought for the trip. the captain need not be uneasy if he were late returning, he said on departing. nilo was an excellent sailor, and had muscle and spirit to contend against a blow. the tranquil environments of prinkipo were enlivened by other parties also drifting. their singing was borne far along the starlit sea. once beyond sight and hearing, nilo plied the oars diligently, bringing up an hour or two after midnight at the shelving rock under the eastern bluff of plati. the way to the ruined tower was then clear. precisely as at the first visit when burial was the object, the concealing stone was pushed aside; after which the prince entered the narrow passage crawling on his hands and knees. he was anxious. if the precious stones had been discovered and carried away, he would have to extend the voyage to jaffa in order to draw from the jerusalem branch of his bank. but the sword of solomon--that was not in the power of man to duplicate--its loss would be irreparable. the stones were mouldy, the passage dark, the progress slow. he had literally to feel every inch in front of him, using his hands as a caterpillar uses its antennae; but he did not complain--the difficulties were the inducements which led him to choose the hiding-place in the first instance. at length he went down a broken step, and, rising to his knees, slipped his left hand along the face of the wall until his fingers dropped into a crack between rocks. it was the spot he sought; he knew it, and breathed easily. in murky lamplight, with mallet and chisel--ah, how long ago!--he had worked a shelf there, finishing it with an oblong pocket in the bottom. to mask the hole was simple. three or four easy-fitting blocks were removed, and thrusting a hand in, he drew forth the sheepskin mantle of the elder nilo. in spite of the darkness, he could not refrain from unrolling the mildewed cover. the sword was safe! he drew the blade and shot it sharply back into the scabbard, then kissed the ruby handle, thinking again of the purchasing power there was in the relic which was yet more than a relic. the leather of the water-gurglet, stiff as wood, responded to a touch. the jewels were also safe, the great emerald with the rest. he touched the bags, counting from one to nine inclusively. then remembering the ten times he had crawled into the passage to put the treasures away, he began their removal, and kept at it until every article was safely deposited in the boat. on the way back to the galley he made new packages, using his mantle as a wrap for the sword, and the new gurglet for the bags of jewels. "i have had enough," he exclaimed to the captain, dropping wearily on the deck about noon. "take me to the city." after a moment of reflection, he added: "land me after nightfall." "we will reach the harbor before sundown." "oh, well! there is the bosphorus--go to buyukdere, and come back." "but, my lord, the captain of the gate may decline to allow you to pass." the prince smiled, and rejoined, with a thought of the bags in the gurglet thrown carelessly down by him: "up with the anchor." the sailor's surmise was groundless. disembarking about midnight, he whispered his name to the captain at the gate of blacherne, and, leaving a soldan in the official palm, was admitted without examination. on the street there was nothing curious in an old man carrying a mantle under his arm, followed by a porter with a half-filled gurglet on his shoulder. finally, the adventure safely accomplished, the prince of india was home again, and in excellent humor. one doubt assailed him--one only. he had just seen the height of candilli, an aerial wonder in a burst of moonlight, and straightway his fancy had crowned it with a structure indian in style, and of material to shine afar delicate as snow against the black bosomed mountain behind it. he was not a greek to fear the turks. nay, in turkish protection there was for him a guaranty of peaceable ownership which he could not see under constantine. and as he was bringing now the wherewith to realize his latest dream, he gave his imagination a loosened rein. he built the house; he heard the tinkling of fountains in its courts, and the echoes in the pillared recession of its halls; free of care, happy once more, with lael he walked in gardens where roses of persia exchanged perfumes with roses of araby, and the daylong singing of birds extended into noon of night; yet, after all, to the worn, weary, droughted heart nothing was so soothing as the fancy which had been his chief attendant from the gate of blacherne--that he heard strangers speaking to each other: "have you seen the palace of lael?" "no, where is it?" "on the crest of candilli." the palace of lael! the name confirmed itself sweeter and sweeter by repetition. and the doubt grew. should he build in the city or amidst the grove of judas trees on the crest of candilli? just as he arrived before his door, he glanced casually across the street, and was surprised by observing light in uel's house. it was very unusual. he would put the treasure away, and go over and inquire into the matter. hardly was he past his own lintel when syama met him. the face of the faithful servant showed unwonted excitement, and, casting himself at his master's feet, he embraced his knees, uttering the hoarse unintelligible cries with which the dumb are wont to make their suffering known. the master felt a chill of fear--something had happened--something terrible--but to whom? he pushed the poor man's head back until he caught the eyes. "what is it?" he asked. syama arose, took the prince's hand, and led him out of the door, across the street, and into uel's house. the merchant, at sight of them, rushed forward and hid his face in the master's breast, crying: "she is gone--lost!--the god of our fathers be with her!" "who is gone? who lost?" "lael, lael--our child--our gul bahar." the blood of the elder jew flew to his heart, leaving him pale as a dead man; yet such was his acquired control of himself, he asked steadily: "gone!--where?" "we do not know. she has been snatched from us--that is all we know." "tell me of it--and quickly." the tone was imperious, and he pushed uel from him. "oh! my friend--and my father's friend--i will tell you all. you are powerful, and love her, and may help where i am helpless." then by piecemeal he dealt out the explanation. "this afternoon she took her chair and went to the wall in front of the bucoleon--sunset, and she was not back. i saw syama--she was not in your house. he and i set out in search of her. she was seen on the wall--later she was seen to descend the steps as if starting home--she was seen in the garden going about on the terrace--she was seen coming out of the front gate of the old palace. we traced her down the street--then she returned to the garden, through the hippodrome, and there she was last seen. i called my friends in the market to my aid--hundreds are now looking for her." "she went out in her chair, did you say?" the steady voice of the prince was in singular contrast with his bloodless face. "yes." "who carried it?" "the men we have long had." "where are they?" "we sought for them--they cannot be found." the prince kept his eyes on uel's face. they were intensely, fiercely bright. he was not in a rage, but thinking, if a man can be said to think when his mind projects itself in a shower. lael's disappearance was not voluntary; she was in detention somewhere in the city. if the purpose of the abduction were money, she would be held in scrupulous safety, and a day or two would bring the demand; but if--he did not finish the idea--it overpowered him. pure steel in utmost flexion breaks into pieces without warning; so with this man now. he threw both hands up, and cried hoarsely: "lend me, o god, of thy vengeance!" and staggering blindly, he would have fallen but for syama. chapter xviii the festival of flowers the academy of epicurus was by no means a trifle spun for vainglory in the fertile fancy of demedes; but a fact just as the brotherhoods of the city were facts, and much more notorious than many of them. wiseacres are generally pessimistic. academy of epicurus indeed! for once there was a great deal in a name. the class mentioned repeated it sneeringly; it spoke to them, and loudly, of some philosophical wickedness. stories of the miraculous growth of the society were at first amusing; then the announcement of its housing excited loud laughter; but when its votaries attached the high sounding term _temple_ to their place of meeting, the clergy and all the devoutly inclined looked sober. in their view the word savored of outright paganism. temple of the academy of epicurus! church had been better--church was at least christian. at length, in ease of the increasing interest, notice was authoritatively issued of a festival of flowers by the academicians, their first public appearance, and great were the anticipations aroused by the further advertisement that they would march from their temple to the hippodrome. the festival took place the afternoon of the third day of the prince of india's voyage to plati. more particularly, while that distinguished foreigner on the deck of the galley was quietly sleeping off the fatigue and wear of body and spirit consequent on the visit to the desolate island, the philosophers were on parade with an immense quota of byzantines of both sexes in observation. about three thousand were in the procession, and from head to foot it was a mass of flowers. the extravaganza deserved the applause it drew. some of its features nevertheless were doubtfully regarded. between the sections into which the column was divided there marched small groups, apparently officers, clad in gowns and vestments, carrying insignia and smoking tripods well known to have belonged to various priesthoods of mythologic fame. when the cortege reached the hippodrome every one in the galleries was reminded of the glory the first constantine gained from his merciless forays upon those identical properties. in the next place, the motto of the society--patience, courage, judgment--was too frequently and ostentatiously exhibited not to attract attention. the words, it was observed, were not merely on banners lettered in gold, but illustrated by portable tableaux of exquisite appositeness and beauty. they troubled the wiseacres; for while they might mean a world of good, they might also stand for several worlds of bad. withal, however, the youthfulness of the academicians wrought the profoundest sensation upon the multitude of spectators. the march was three times round the interior, affording excellent opportunity to study the appearances; and the sober thinking, whom the rarity and tastefulness of the display did not hoodwink, when they discovered that much the greater number participating were beardless lads, shook their heads while saying to each other, at the rate these are going what is to become of the empire? as if the decadence were not already in progress, and they, the croakers, responsible for it! at the end of the first round, upon the arrival of the sections in front of the triple-headed bronze serpent, one of the wonders of the hippodrome then as now, the bearers of the tripods turned out, and set them down, until at length the impious relic was partially veiled in perfumed smoke, as was the wont in its better delphian days. nothing more shocking to the religionists could have been invented; they united in denouncing the defiant indecency. hundreds of persons, not all of them venerable and frocked, were seen to rise and depart, shaking the dust from their feet. in course of tile third circuit, the tripods were coolly picked up and returned to their several places in the procession. from a seat directly over the course, sergius beheld the gay spectacle from its earliest appearance through the portal of the blues to its exit by the portal of the greens. [footnote: the blues and the greens--two celebrated factions of constantinople. see gibbon, vii. pp. - . four gates, each flanked with towers, gave entrance to the hippodrome from the city. the northwestern was called the gate of the blues; the northeastern of the greens; the southeastern gate bore the sullen title, "gate of the dead."--prof. edwin a. grosvenor.] his interest, the reader will bear reminding, was peculiar. he had been honored by a special invitation to become a member of the academy--in fact, there was a seat in the temple at the moment reserved for him. he had the great advantage, moreover, of exact knowledge of the objects of the order. godless itself, it had been organized to promote godlessness. he had given much thought to it since demedes unfolded the scheme to him, and found it impossible to believe persons of sound sense could undertake a sin so elaborate. if for any reason the state and church were unmindful of it, heaven certainly could not be. aside from the desire to satisfy himself of the strength of the academy, sergius was drawn to the hippodrome to learn, if possible, the position demedes held in it. his sympathy with the venerable hegumen, with whom mourning for the boy astray was incessant, and sometimes pathetic as the jewish king's, gradually became a grief for the prodigal himself, and he revolved plans for his reformation. what happiness could he one day lead the son to the father, and say: "your prayers and lamentations have been heard; see--god's kiss of peace on his forehead!" and then in what he had seen of demedes--what courage, dash, and audacity--what efficiency--what store of resources! the last play of his--attending the fete of the princess irene as a bear tender--who but demedes would have thought of such a role? who else could have made himself the hero of the occasion, with none to divide honors with him except joqard? and what a bold ready transition from bear tender to captain in the boat race! demedes writhing in the grip of nilo over the edge of the wall, death in the swish of waves beneath, had been an object of pity tinged with contempt--demedes winner of the prize at therapia was a very different person. this feeling for the greek, it is to be said next, was dashed with a lurking dread of him. if he had a design against lael, what was there to prevent him from attempting it? that he had such a design, sergius could not deny. how often he repeated the close of the note left on the stool after the fisherman's fete. "thou mayst find the fan of the princess of india useful; with me it is embalmed in sentiment." he shall write with a pen wondrous fine who makes the difference between love and sentiment clear. behind the fete, moreover, there was the confession heard on the wall, illustrated by the story of the plague of crime. instead of fading out in the russian's mind it had become better understood--a consequence of the brightening process of residence in the city. twice the procession rounded the great curriculum. twice sergius had opportunity to look for the greek, but without avail. so were the celebrants literally clothed in flowers that recognition of individuals was almost impossible. the first time, he sought him in the body of each passing section; the second time, he scanned the bearers of the standards and symbols; the third time, he was successful. at the head of the parade, six or eight persons were moving on horseback. it was singular sergius had not looked for demedes amongst them, since the idea of him would have entitled the greek to a chief seat in the temple and a leading place when in the eye of the public. as it was, he could not repress an exclamation on making the discovery. like his associates, demedes was in armor _cap-a-pie_. he also carried an unshod lance, a shield on arm, and a bow and quiver at his back; but helmet, breastplate, shield, lance and bow were masked in flowers, and only now and then a glint betrayed the underdress of polished steel. the steed he bestrode was housed in cloth which dragged the ground; but of the color of the cloth or its material not a word can be said, so entirely was it covered with floral embroidery of diverse hues and figures. the decoration contributed little of grace to man or beast; nevertheless its richness was undeniable. to the spendthrifts in the galleries the effect was indescribably attractive. they studied its elaboration, conjecturing how many gardens along the bosphorus, and out in the isles of the princes, had been laid under contribution for the accomplishment of the splendor. thus in the saddle, demedes could not have been accused of diminutiveness; he appeared tall, even burly; indeed, sergius would never have recognized him had he not been going with raised visor, and at the instant of passing turned his face up, permitting it to be distinctly seen. the exclamation wrung from the monk was not merely because of his finding the man; in sober truth, it was an unconventional expression provoked by finding him in the place he occupied, and a quick jump to the logical conclusion that the foremost person in the march was also the chief priest--if such were the title--in the academy. thenceforward sergius beheld little else of the show than demedes. he forgot the impiety of the honors to the bronze serpent. there is no enigma to us like him who is broadly our antipodes in moral being, and whether ours is the good or the bad nature does not affect the saying. his feelings the while were strangely diverse. the election of the evil genius to the first place in the insidious movement was well done for the academy; there would be no failure with him in control; but the poor hegumen! and now, the last circuit completed, the head of the bright array approached the gate of the greens. there the horsemen drew out and formed line on the right hand to permit the brethren to march past them. the afternoon was going rapidly. the shadow of the building on the west crept more noticeably across the carefully kept field. still sergius retained his seat watchful of demedes. he saw him signal the riders to turn out--he saw the line form, and the sections begin to march past it--then an incident occurred of no appreciable importance at the moment, but replete with significancy a little later. a man appeared on the cornice above the gate--the grate on the interior having a face resembling a very tall but shallow portico resting on slender pillars--and commenced lowering himself as if he meant to descend. the danger of the attempt drew all eyes to him. demedes looked up, and hastily rode through the column toward the spot where the adventurer must alight. the spectators credited the young chief with a generous intent to be of assistance; but agile as a cat, and master of every nerve and muscle, the man gained one of the pillars and slid to the ground. the galleries of the hippodrome found voice immediately. while the acrobat hung from the cornice striving to get hold of the pillar with his feet and legs, sergius was wrestling with the question, what could impel a fellow being to tempt providence so rashly? if a messenger with intelligence for some one in the procession, why not wait for him outside? in short, the monk was a trifle vexed; but doubly observant now, he saw the man hasten to demedes, and demedes bend low in the saddle to receive a communication from him. the courier then hurried away through the gate, while the chief returned to his place; but, instructed probably by some power of divination proceeding from sympathy and often from suspicion, one of the many psychological mysteries about which we keep promising ourselves a day of enlightenment, sergius observed a change in the latter. he was restless, impatient, and somewhat too imperative in hastening the retirement of the brethren. the message had obviously excited him. now sergius would have freely given the best of his earthly possessions to have known at that moment the subject of the communication delivered by a route so extraordinary; but leaving him to his conjectures, there is no reason why the reader should not be more confidentially treated. "sir," the messenger had whispered to demedes, "she has left her father's, and is coming this way." "how is she coming?" "in her sedan." "who is with her?" "she is alone." "and her porters?" "the bulgarians." "thank you. go now--out by the gate--to the keeper of the imperial cistern. tell him to await me under the wall in the bucoleon garden with my chair. he will understand. come to the temple tomorrow for your salary." chapter xix the prince builds castles for his gul bahar the words between demedes and his courier may have the effect of additionally exciting the reader's curiosity; for better understanding, therefore, we will take the liberty of carrying him from the hippodrome to the house of uel the merchant. much has been said about the prince of india's affection for lael; so much indeed that there is danger of its being thought one sided. a greater mistake could scarcely be. she returned his love as became a daughter attentive, tender and obedient. without knowing anything of his past life except as it was indistinctly connected with her family, she regarded him a hero and a sage whose devotion to her, multiform and unwearied, was both a delight and an honor. she was very sympathetic, and in everything of interest to him responded with interest. his word in request or direction was law to her. such in brief was the charming mutuality between them. the night before he started for plati, lael sat with him on the roof. he was happy of his resolution to stay with her. the moonlight was ample for them. looking up into his face, her chin in a palm, an elbow on his knee, she listened while he talked of his plans, and was the more interested because he made her understand she was the inspiration of them all. "the time for my return home is up," he said, forgetting to specify where the home was, "and i should have been off before this but for my little girl--my gul bahar"--and he patted her head fondly. "i cannot go and leave her; neither can i take her with me, for what would then become of father uel? when she was a child it might not have been so hard for me to lose sight of her, but now--ah, have i not seen you grow day by day taller, stronger, wiser, fairer of person, sweeter of soul, until you are all i fancied you would be--until you are my ideal of a young woman of our dear old israel, the loveliness of judah in your eyes and on your cheek, and of a spirit to sit in the presence of the lord like one invited and welcome? oh, i am very happy!" he kept silence awhile, indulging in retrospect. if she could have followed him! better probably that she could not. "it is a day of ease to me, dear, and i cannot see any unlawfulness in extending the day into months, or a year, or years indefinitely, and in making the most of it. can you?" he asked, smiling at her. "i am but a handmaiden, and my master's eyes are mine," she replied. "that was well said--ever so well said," he returned. "the words would have become ruth speaking to her lord who was of the kindred of elimelech... yes, i will stay with my gul bahar, my most precious one. i am resolved. she loves me now, but can i not make her love me still more--oh, doubt not, doubt not! her happiness shall be the measure of her love for me. that is the right way, is it not?" "my father is never wrong," lael answered, laughing. "flatterer!" he exclaimed, pressing her cheeks between his hands.... "oh, i have it marked out already! in the dry lands of my country, i have seen a farmer, wanting to lead water to a perishing field, go digging along the ground, while the stream bubbled and leaped behind him, tame and glad as a petted lamb. my heart is the field to be watered--your love, o my pretty, pretty gul bahar, is the refreshing stream, and i will lead it after me--never fear!... listen, and i will tell you how i will lead it. i will make you a princess. these greeks are a proud race, but they shall bow to you; for we will live amongst them, and you shall have things richer than their richest--trinkets of gold and jewels, a palace, and a train of women equal to that of the queen who went visiting solomon. they praise themselves when they look at their buildings, but i tell you they know nothing of the art which turns dreams into stones. the crags and stones have helped them to their models. i will teach them better--to look higher--to find vastness with grace and color in the sky. the dome of sancta sophia--what is it in comparison with the hindoo masterpieces copied from the domes of god on the low-lying clouds in the distance opposite the sun?" then he told her of his palace in detail--of the fronts, no two of them alike--the pillars, those of red granite, those of porphyry, and the others of marble--windows which could not be glutted with light--arches such as the western kaliphs transplanted from damascus and bagdad, in form first seen in a print of the hoof of borak. then he described the interior, courts, halls; passages, fountains: and when he had thus set the structure before her, he said, softly smoothing her hair: "there now--you have it all--and verily, as hiram, king of tyre, helped solomon in his building, he shall help me also." "how can he help you?" she asked, shaking her finger at him. "he has been dead this thousand years, and more." "yes, dear, to everybody but me," he answered, lightly, and asked in turn: "how do you like the palace?" "it will be wonderful!" "i have named it. would you like to hear the name?" "it is something pretty, i know." "the palace of lael." her cry of delighted surprise, given with clasped hands and wide-open eyes, would have been tenfold payment were he putting her in possession of the finished house. the sensation over, he told her of his design for a galley. "we know how tiresome the town becomes. in winter, it is cheerless and damp; in summer, it is hot, dusty and in every way trying. weariness will invade our palace--yes, dear, though we hide from it in the shady heart of our hall of fountains. we can provide against everything but the craving for change. not being birds to fly, and unable to compel the eagles to lend us their wings, the best resort is a galley; then the sea is ours--the sea, wide, mysterious, crowded with marvels. i am never so near the stars as there. when a wave is bearing me up, they seem descending to meet me. times have been when i thought the pleiades were about to drop into my palm.... here is my galley. you see, child, the palace is to be yours, the galley mine." thereupon he described a trireme of a hundred and twenty oars, sixty on a side, and ended, saying: "yes, the peerless ship will be mine, but every morning it shall be yours to say take it here or there, until we have seen every city by the sea; and there are enough of them, i promise, to keep us going and going forever were it not that the weariness which drove us from our palace will afterwhile drive us back to it. how think you i have named my galley?" "lael," she answered. "no, try again." "the world is too full of names for me. tell me." "gul bahar," he returned. again she clasped her hands, and gave the little cry in his ears so pleasant. certainly the prince was pleading with effect, and laying up happiness in great store to cheer him through unnumbered sterile years inevitably before him after time had resolved this lael into a faint and fading memory, like the other lael gone to dust under the stone at jerusalem. the first half of the night was nearly spent when he arose to conduct her across the street to uel's house. the last words at the head of the steps were these: "now, dear, to-morrow i must go a journey on business which will keep me three days and nights--possibly three weeks. tell father uel what i say. tell him also that i have ordered you to stay indoors while i am absent, unless he can accompany you. do you hear me?" "three weeks!" she cried, protestingly. "oh, it will be so lonesome! why may i not go with syama?" "syama would be a wisp of straw in the hands of a ruffian. he could not even call for help." "then why not with nilo?" "nilo is to attend me." "oh, i see," she said, with a merry laugh. "it is the greek, the greek, my persecutor! why, he has not recovered from his fright yet; he has deserted me." he answered gravely: "do you remember a bear tender, one of the amusements at the fisherman's fete?" "oh, yes." "he was the greek." "he!" she cried, astonished. "yes. i have it from sergius the monk; and further, my child, he was there in pursuit of you." "oh, the monster! i threw him my fan!" the prince knew by the tremulous voice she was wounded, and hastened to say: "it was nothing. he deceived everybody but sergius. i spoke of the pestilent fellow because you wanted a reason for my keeping you close at home. perhaps i exacted too much of you. if i only knew certainly how long i shall be detained! the three weeks will be hard--and it may be uel cannot go with you--his business is confining. so if you do venture out, take your sedan--everybody knows to whom it belongs--and the old bulgarian porters. i have paid them enough to be faithful to us. are you listening, child?" "yes, yes--and i am so glad!" he walked down the stairs half repenting the withdrawal of his prohibition. "be it so," he said, crossing the street. "the confinement might be hurtful. only go seldom as you can; then be sure you return before sunset, and that you take and keep the most public streets. that is all now." "you are so good to me!" she said, putting her arm round his neck, and kissing him. "i will try and stay in the house. come back early. farewell." next day about noon the prince of india took the galley, and set out for plati. the day succeeding his departure was long with lael. she occupied herself with her governess, however, and did a number of little tasks such as women always have in reserve for a more convenient season. the second day was much more tedious. the forenoon was her usual time for recitations to the prince; she also read with him then, and practised talking some of the many languages of which he was master. that part of the day she accordingly whiled through struggling with her books. she was earnest in the attempt at study; but naturally, the circumstances considered, she dropped into thinking of the palace and galley. what a delightful glorious existence they prefigured! and it was not a dream! her father, the prince of india, as she proudly and affectionately called him, did not deal in idle promises, but did what he said. and besides being a master of design in many branches of art, he had an amazing faculty of describing the things he designed. that is saying he had the mind's eye to see his conceptions precisely as they would appear in finished state. so in talking his subjects always seemed before him for portraiture. one can readily perceive the capacity he must have had for making the unreal appear real to a listener, and also how he could lead lael, her hand in his, through a house more princely than anything of the kind in constantinople, and on board a ship such as never sailed unless on a painted ocean--a house like the taj mahal, a vessel like that which burned on the cydnus. she decided what notable city by the sea she wanted most to look at next, and in naming them over, smiled at her own indecision. the giving herself to such fancies was exactly what the prince intended; only he was to be the central figure throughout. whether in the palace or on the ship, she was to think of him alone, and always as the author of the splendor and the happiness. of almost any other person we would speak compassionately; but he had lived long enough to know better than dream so childishly--long enough at least to know there is a law for everything except the vagaries of a girl scarcely sixteen. after all, however, if his scheme was purely selfish, perhaps it may be pleasing to the philosophers who insist that relations cannot exist without carrying along with them their own balance of compensations, to hear how lael filled the regal prospect set before her with visions in which sergius, young, fair, tall and beautiful, was the hero, and the prince only a paternal contributor. if the latter led her by the hand here and there, sergius went with them so close behind she could hear his feet along the marble, and in the voyages she took, he was always a passenger. the trial of the third day proved too much for the prisoner. the weather was delightfully clear and warm, and in the afternoon she fell to thinking of the promenade on the wall by the bucoleon, and of the waftures over the sea from the asian olympus. they were sweet in her remembrance, and the longing for them was stronger of a hope the presence of which she scarcely admitted to herself--a hope of meeting sergius. she wanted to ask him if the bear-tender at the fete could have been the greek. often as she thought of that odious creature with her fan, she blushed, and feared sergius might seriously misunderstand her. about three o'clock she ordered her chair brought to father uel's door at exactly four, having first dutifully run over the conditions the prince had imposed upon her. uel was too busy to be her escort. syama, if he went, would be no protection; but she would return early. to be certain, she made a calculation. it would take about half an hour to get to the wall; the sun would set soon after seven; by starting home at six she could have fully an hour and a half for the airing, which meant a possible hour and a half with sergius. at four o'clock the sedan was set down before the merchant's house, and, for a reason presently apparent, the reader to whom vehicles of the kind are unfamiliar is advised to acquaint himself somewhat thoroughly with them. in idea, as heretofore observed, this one was a box constructed with a seat for a single passenger; a door in front allowed exit and entrance; besides the window in the door, there was a smaller opening on each side. for portage, it was affixed centrally and in an upright position to two long poles; these, a porter in front and another behind grasped at the ends, easing the burden by straps passed over the shoulders. the box was high enough for the passenger to stand in it. lest this plain description should impose an erroneous idea of the appearance of the carriage, we again advert to its upholstery in silk-velvet orange-tinted; to the cushions covering the seat; to the lace curtaining the windows in a manner to permit view from within while screening the occupant from obtrusive eyes without; and to the elaborate decoration of the exterior, literally a mosaic of vari-colored woods, mother-of-pearl and gold, the latter in lines and flourishes. in fine, to such a pitch of gorgeousness had the prince designed the chair, intending the public should receive it as an attestation of his love for the child to whom it was specially set apart, that it became a notoriety and avouched its ownership everywhere in the city. the reader would do well in the next place to give a glance at the men who brought the chair to the door--two burly fellows, broad-faced, shock-headed, small-eyed, sandalled, clad in semi-turbans, gray shirts, and gray trousers immensely bagged behind--professional porters; for the service demanded skill. a look by one accustomed to the compound of races hived in constantinople would have determined them bulgarians in extraction, and subjects of the sultan by right of recent conquest. they had settled upon the prince of india in a kind of retainership. as the chair belonged to lael, from long employment as carriers they belonged to the chair. their patron dealt very liberally with them, and for that reason had confidence in their honesty and faithfulness. that they should have pride in the service, he dressed them in a livery. on this occasion, however, they presented themselves in every-day costume--a circumstance which would not have escaped the prince, or uel, or syama. the only witness of the departure was the governess, who came out and affectionately settled her charge in the chair, and heard her name the streets which the bulgarians were to pursue, all of them amongst the most frequented of the city. gazing at her through the window the moment the chair was raised, she thought lael never appeared lovelier and was herself pleased and lulled with the words she received at parting: "i will be home before sunset." the carriers in going followed instructions, except that upon arrival at the hippodrome, observing it already in possession of a concourse of people waiting for the epicureans, they passed around the enormous pile, and entered the imperial gardens by a gate north of sancta sophia. lael found the promenade thronged with habitues, and falling into the current moving toward point serail, she permitted her chair to become part of it; after which she was borne backward and forward from the serail to the port of julian, stopping occasionally to gaze at the isles of the princes seemingly afloat and drifting through the purple haze of the distance. where, she persisted in asking herself, is sergius? lest he might pass unobserved, she kept the curtains of all the windows aside, and every long gown and tall hat she beheld set her heart to fluttering. her eagerness to meet the monk at length absorbed her. the sun marked five o'clock--then half after five--then, in more rapid declension, six, and still she went pendulously to and fro along the wall--six o'clock, the hour for starting home; but she had not seen sergius. on land the shadows were lengthening rapidly; over the sea, the brightness was dulling, and the air perceptibly freshening. she awoke finally to the passage of time, and giving up the hope which had been holding her to the promenade, reluctantly bade the carriers take her home. "shall we go by the streets we came?" the forward man asked, respectfully. "yes," she returned. then, as he closed the door, she was startled by noticing the promenade almost deserted; the going and coming were no longer in two decided currents; groups had given place to individual loiterers. these things she noticed, but not the glance the porters threw to each other telegraphic of some understanding between them. at the foot of the stairs descending the wall she rapped on the front window. "make haste," she said, to the leading man; "make haste, and take the nearest way." this, it will be perceived, left him to choose the route in return, and he halted long enough to again telegraph his companion by look and nod. between the eastern front of the bucoleon and the sea-wall the entire space was a garden. from the wall the ascent to the considerable plateau crowned by the famous buildings was made easy by four graceful terraces, irregular in width, and provided with zigzag roads securely paved. roses and lilies were not the only products of the terraces; vines and trees of delicate leafage and limited growth flourished upon them in artistic arrangement. here and there were statues and lofty pillars, and fountains in the open, and fountains under tasteful pavilions, planted advantageously at the angles. except where the trees and shrubbery formed groups dense enough to serve as obstructions, the wall commanded the whole slope. time was when all this loveliness was jealously guarded for the lords and ladies of the court; but when blacherne became the very high residence the bucoleon lapsed to the public. his majesty maintained it; the people enjoyed it. following the zigzags, the carriers mounted two of the terraces without meeting a soul. the garden was deserted. hastening on, they turned the y at the beginning of the third terrace. a hundred or more yards along the latter there was a copse of oleander and luxuriant filbert bushes over-ridden by fig trees. as the sedan drew near this obstruction, its bearers flung quick glances above and below them, and along the wall, and descrying another sedan off a little distance but descending toward them, they quickened their pace as if to pass the copse first. in the midst of it, at the exact point where the view from every direction was cut off, the man in the rear stumbled, struggled to recover himself, then fell flat. his ends of the poles struck the pavement with a crash--the chair toppled backward--lael screamed. the leader slipped the strap from his shoulder, and righted the carriage by letting it go to the ground, floor down. he then opened the door. "do not be scared," he said to lael, whose impulse was to scramble out. "keep your seat--my comrade has had a fall--that is nothing--keep your seat. i will get him up, and we will be going on in a minute." lael became calm. the man walked briskly around, and assisted his partner to his feet. there was a hurried consultation between them, of which the passenger heard only the voices. presently they both came to the door, looking much mortified. "the accident is more than i thought," the leader said, humbly. by this time the chill of the first fear was over with lael, and she asked: "can we go on?" "if the princess can walk--yes." she turned pale. "what is it? why must i walk?" "our right-hand pole is broken, and we have nothing to tie it with." and the other man added: "if we only had a rope!" now the mishap was not uncommon, and remembering the fact, lael grew cooler, and bethought herself of the silken scarf about her waist. to take it off was the work of a moment. "here," she said, rather pleased at her presence of mind; "you can make a rope of this." they took the scarf, and busied themselves, she thought, trying to bandage the fractured shaft. again they stood before the door. "we have done the best we can. the pole will hold the chair, but not with the princess. she must walk--there is nothing else for her." thereupon the assistant interposed a suggestion: "one of us can go for another chair, and overtake the princess before she reaches the gate." this was plausible, and lael stepped forth. she sought the sun first; the palace hid it, yet she was cheered by its last rays redly enlivening the heights of scutari across the bosphorus, and felicitated herself thinking it still possible to get home before the night was completely fallen. "yes, one of you may seek another"-- that instant the sedan her porters had descried before they entered the copse caught her eyes. doubt, fear, suspicion vanished; her face brightened: "a chair! a chair!--and no one in it!" she cried, with the vivacity of a child. "bring it here, and let us be gone." the carriage so heartily welcomed was of the ordinary class, and the carriers were poorly clad, hard-featured men, but stout and well trained. they came at call. "where are you going?" "to the wall." "are you engaged?" "no, we hoped to find some one belated there." "do you know uel the merchant?" "we have heard of him. he has a stall in the market, and deals in diamonds." "do you know where his house is?" "on the street from st. peter's gate, under the church by the old cistern." "we have a passenger here, his daughter, and want you to carry her home. one of our poles is broken." "will she pay us our price?" "how much do you want?" here lael interposed: "stand not on the price. my father will pay whatever they demand." the bulgarians seemed to consider a moment. "it is the best we can do," the leader said. "yes, the very best," the other returned. thereupon the first one went to the new sedan, and opened the door. "if the princess will take seat," he said, respectfully, "we will pick up, and follow close after her." lael stepped in, saying as the door closed upon her: "make haste, for the night is near." the strangers without further ado faced about, and started up the road. "wait, wait," she heard her old leader call out. there was a silence during which she imagined the bulgarians were adjusting the straps upon their shoulders; then there came a quick: "now go, and hurry, or we will pass you." these were the last words she heard from them, for the new men put themselves in motion. she missed the cushions of her own carriage, but was content--she was returning home, and going fast. this latter she judged by the slide and shuffle of the loose-sandalled feet under her, and the responsive springing of the poles. the reaction of spirit which overtook her was simply the swing of nature back to its normal lightness. she ceased thinking of the accident, except as an excuse for the delay to which she had been subjected. she was glad the prince's old retainer had escaped without injury. there was no window back through which she could look, yet she fancied she heard the feet of the faithful bulgarians; they said nothing, therefore everything was proceeding well. now and then she peered out through the side windows to notice the deepening of the shades of evening. once a temporary darkness filled the narrow box, but it gave her no uneasiness--the men were passing out of the garden through a covered gate. now they were in a street, and the travelling plain. thus assured and tranquil, maiden-like, she again fell to thinking of sergius. where could he have been? what kept him from the promenade? he might have known she would be there. was the hegumen so exacting? old people are always forgetting they cannot make young people old like themselves; and it was so inconvenient, especially now she wanted to hear of the bear tender. then she adverted to the monk more directly. how tall he was! how noble and good of face! and his religion--she wished ever so quietly that he could be brought over to the judean faith--she wished it, but did not ask herself why. to say truth, there was a great deal more feeling in undertone, as it were, touching these points than thought; and while she kept it going, the carriers forgot not to be swift, nor did the night tarry. suddenly there was an awakening. from twilight deeply shaded, she passed into utter darkness. while, with her face to a window, she tried to see where she was and make out what had happened, the chair stopped, and next moment was let drop to the ground. the jar and the blank blackness about renewed her fears, and she called out: "what is the matter? where are we? this is not my father uel's." and what time an answer should have been forthcoming had there been good faith and honesty in the situation, she heard a rush of feet which had every likeness to a precipitate flight, and then a banging noise, like the slamming to of a ponderous door. she had time to think of the wisdom of her father, the prince of india, and of her own wilfulness--time to think of the greek--time to call once on sergius--then a flutter of consciousness--an agony of fright--and it was as if she died. chapter xx the silhouette of a crime a genius thoroughly wicked--such was demedes. quick to see the disgust the young men of constantinople had fallen into for the disputes their elders were indulging about the churches, he proposed that they should discard religion, and reinstate philosophy; and at their request he formulated the following: "nature is the lawgiver; the happiness of man is the primary object of nature: hence for youth, pleasure; for old age, repentance and piety, the life hereafter being a respectable conjecture." the principles thus tersely stated were eagerly adopted, and going forward with his scheme, it may be said the academy was his design, and its organization his work. in recognition of his superior abilities, the grateful academicians elected him their high priest. we have seen how the public received the motto of the society. patience, courage, judgment looked fair and disclosed nothing wrong; but there was an important reservation to it really the only secret observed. this was the motto in full, known only to the initiated--patience, courage, judgment _in the pursuit of pleasure_. from the hour of his installation as high priest, demedes was consumed by an ambition to illustrate the motto in its entirety, by doing something which should develop the three virtues in connection with unheard of daring and originality. it is to be added here that to his own fortune, he had now the treasury of the academy to draw upon, and it was full. in other words, he had ample means to carry out any project his _judgment_ might approve. he pondered the matter long. one day lael chanced to fall under his observation. she was beautiful and the town talk. here, he thought, was a subject worth studying, and speedily two mysteries presented themselves to him: who was the prince of india? and what was her true relationship to the prince? we pass over his resorts in unravelling the mysteries; they were many and cunning, and thoroughly tried the first virtue of the academical motto; still the sum of his finding with respect to the prince was a mere theory--he was a jew and rich--beyond this demedes took nothing for his pains. he proceeded next to investigate lael. she too was of jewish origin, but unlike other jewesses, wonderful to say, she had two fathers, the diamond merchant and the prince of india. nothing better could be asked--so his judgment, the third virtue of the motto, decreed. in byzantine opinion, jews were socially outside decent regard. in brief, if he should pursue the girl to her ruin, there was little to fear from an appeal by either of her fathers to the authorities. exile might be the extremest penalty of discovery. he began operations by putting into circulation the calumny, too infamous for repetition, with which we have seen him attempt to poison sergius. robbing the victim of character would deprive her of sympathy, and that, in the event of failure, would be a half defence for himself with the public. he gave himself next to finding what to do with the little princess, as he termed her. all his schemes respecting her fell short in that they lacked originality. at last the story of the plague of crime, stumbled on in the library of the st. james', furnished a suggestion novel, if not original, and he accepted it. proceeding systematically, he first examined the cistern, paddling through it in a boat with a flambeau at the bow. he sounded the depth of the water, counted the pillars, and measured the spaces between them; he tested the purity of the air; and when the reconnoissance was through, he laughed at the simplicity of the idea, and embodied his decision in a saying eminently becoming his philosophic character--the best of every new thing is that it was once old. next he reduced the affair to its elements. he must steal her--such was the deed in simplest term--and he must have assistants, but prudence whispered just as few of them as possible. he commenced a list, heading it with the keeper of the cistern, whom he found poor, necessitous, and anxious to better his condition. upon a payment received, that worthy became warmly interested, and surprised his employer with suggestions of practical utility. coming then to the abduction, he undertook a study of her daily life, hoping it would disclose something available. a second name was thereupon entered in his list of accomplices. one day a beggar with sore eyes and a foot swollen with elephantiasis--an awful object to sight--set a stool in an angle of the street a few doors from uel's house; and thenceforward the girl's every appearance was communicated to demedes, who never forgot the great jump of heart with which he heard of the gorgeous chair presented her by the prince, and of the visit she forthwith made to the wall of the bucoleon. soon as he satisfied himself that the bulgarians were in the prince's pay, he sounded them. they too were willing to permit him to make them comfortable the remainder of their days, especially as, after the betrayal asked of them, they had only to take boat to the turkish side of the bosphorus, beyond pursuit and demand. his list of assistants was then increased to four. now indeed the game seemed secure, and he prepared for the hour which was to bring the jewess to him. the keeper of the cistern was the solitary occupant of a house built round a small court from which a flight of stone steps admitted to the darkened water. he had a felicitous turn for mechanics, and undertook the building of a raft with commodious rooms on it. demedes went with him to select a place of anchorage, and afterward planned the structure to fit between four of the pillars in form thus: [illustration] seeing the design on paper, demedes smiled--it was so like a cross; the part in lines being the landing, and the rest a room divisible at pleasure into three rooms. a boat was provided for communication, and to keep it hid from visitors, a cord was fixed to a pillar off in the darkness beyond ken, helped though it might be by torches; so standing on the stone steps, one could draw the vessel to and fro, exactly as a flag is hoisted or lowered on a staff. the work took a long time, but was at last finished. the high priest of the epicureans came meantime to have something akin to tender feeling for his intended victim. he indulged many florid dreams of when she should grace his bower in the imperial cistern; and as the time of her detention might peradventure extend into months, he vowed to enrich the bower until the most wilful spirit would settle into contentment. neither the money nor the time spent in this part of the preparation was begrudged; on the contrary, demedes took delight in the occupation; it was exercise for ingenuity, taste, and judgment, always a pleasure to such as possess the qualities. in fact, the whole way through he likened himself to a bird building a nest for its mate. after all, however, the part of the project most troublesome of arrangement by the schemer, was getting the princess into the cistern keeper's house--that is, without noise, scuffle, witnesses, or a clew left behind. to this he gave more hours of reflection than to the rest altogether. the method we have seen executed was decided upon when he arrived at two conclusions; that the attempt was most likely to succeed in the garden of the bucoleon, and that the princess must be lured from her chair into another less conspicuous and not so well known. greatly to his regret, but of necessity, he then saw himself compelled to increase his list of accessories to six. yet he derived peace remembering none of them, with exception of the keeper, knew aught of the affair beyond their immediate connection with it. the porters, for instance, who dropped the unfortunate and fled, leaving her in the sedan to intents dead, had not the slightest idea of what was to become of her afterwards. the conjunctions needful to success in the enterprise were numerous; yet the greek accepted the waiting they put him to as a trial of the patience to which the motto pledged him. he believed in being ready. when the house was built and furnished, he drilled the bulgarians with such particularity that the scene in the garden may be said to have been literally to order. probably the nearest approach to the mythical sixth sense is the power of casting one's mind forward to a coming event, and arranging its occurrence; and whether some have it a gift of nature, while others derive it from cultivation, this much is certain--without it, no man will ever create anything originally. now, if the reader pleases, demedes was too liberally endowed with the faculty, trait or sense of which we have just spoken to permit the sedan to be broken; such an accident would have been very inconvenient at the critical moment succeeding the exchange of chairs. the prompter ever at the elbow of a bad man instructed him that, aside from what the prince of india could not do, it was in his power to arouse the city, and set it going hue and cry; and then the carriage, rich, glittering, and known to so many, would draw pursuit, like a flaming torch at night. so it occurred to demedes, the main object being to conceal the going to the cistern keeper's, why not use the sedan to deceive the pursuers? he scored the idea with an exultant laugh. returning now to the narrative of the enactment, directly the strange porters moved out of the copse with their unsuspecting passenger, the bulgarians slung the poles to their shoulders, and followed up the zigzag to the y of the fourth terrace; there they turned, and retraced their steps to the promenade; whence, after reaching point serail, they doubled on their track, descended the wall, traversed the garden, and, passing the gate by which they came, paraded their empty burden around the hippodrome and down a thronged street. and again doubling, they returned to the wall, and finding it forsaken, and the night having fallen, they abandoned the chair at a spot where the water on the seaward side was deep and favorable for whatever violence theory might require. in the course of this progress they were met by numberless people, many of whom stopped to observe the gay turnout, doubting not that the little princess was within directing its movements. finally, their task thoroughly done, the bulgarians hurried to where a boat was in readiness, and crossing to scutari, lost themselves in the growing dominions of their rightful lord, the sultan. one casually reading this silhouette of a crime in act is likely to rest here, thinking there was nothing more possible of doing either to forward the deed or facilitate the escape of those engaged in it; yet demedes was not content. there were who had heard him talk of the girl--who knew she had been much in his thought--to whom he had furnished ground for suspecting him of following her with evil intent--sergius amongst others. in a word, he saw a necessity for averting attention from himself in the connection. here also his wit was willing and helpful. the moment the myrmidon dropped from the portico with news that the princess was out in her chair unattended, he decided she was proceeding to the wall. "the gods are mindful of me!" he said, his blood leaping quick. "now is the time ripe, and the opportunity come!" looking at the sun, he fixed the hour, and reflected: "five o'clock--she is on the wall. six o'clock--she is still there. half after six--making up her mind to go home. oh, but the air will be sweet, and the sea lovely! seven o'clock--she gives order, and the bulgarians signal my men on the fourth terrace. pray heaven the russian keep to his prayers or stay hearkening for my father's bell!... here am i seen of these thousands. later on--about the time she forsakes the wall--my presence shall be notorious along the streets from the temple to blacherne. then what if the monk talks? may the fiend pave his path with stumbling-blocks and breaknecks! the city will not discredit its own eyes." the epicureans, returning from the hippodrome, reached their temple about half after five o'clock. the dispersal occupied another hour; shortly after, the regalia having been put away, and the tripods and banners stored, demedes called to his mounted assistants: "my brothers, we have worked hard, but the sowing has been bounteous and well done. philosophy in flowers, religion in sackcloth--that is the comparison we have given the city. there will be no end to our harvest. to-morrow our doors open to stay open. to-day i have one further service for you. to your horses and ride with me to the gate of blacherne. we may meet the emperor." they answered him shouting: "live the emperor!" "yes," cried demedes, when the cheering was over, "by this time he should be tired of the priests; and what is that but the change of heart needful to an epicurean?" laughing and joking, they mounted, eight of them, in flowers as when in the hippodrome. the sun was going down, but the streets were yet bright with day. it was the hour when balconies overhanging the narrow thoroughfares were crowded with women and children, and the doors beset with servants--the hour byzantine gossips were abroad filling and unfilling their budgets. how the wooden houses trembled while the cavalcade went galloping by! what thousands of bright eyes peered down upon the cavaliers, attracted by the shouting and laughter! now and then some person would be a little late in attempting to cross before him; then with what grace demedes would spur after him, his bow and bowstring for whip! and how the spectators shrieked with delight when he overtook the culprit, and wore the flowers out flogging him! and when a balcony was low, and illuminated with a face fairer than common, how the gallant young riders plucked roses from their helms and shields, and tossed them in shouting: "largesse, lady--largesse of thy smiles!" "look again! another rose for another look!" "from the brave to the fair!" thus to the gate of blacherne. there they drew up, and saluted the officer of the guard, and cheered: "live constantine! to the good emperor, long life!" all the way demedes rode with lifted visor. returning through the twilight, earlier in the close streets than in the open, he led his company by the houses of uel and the prince of india. something might be learned of what was going on with the little princess by what was going on there; and the many persons he saw in the street signified alarm and commotion. "ho, here!" he shouted, drawing rein. "what does this mean? somebody dead or dying?" "uel, the master of the house, is afraid for his child. she should have been home before sundown. he is sending friends out to look for her." there was a whole story in the answer, and the conspirator repressed a cry of triumph, and rode on. chapter xxi sergius learns a new lesson syama, always thoughtful, took care of the treasure brought from plati, and standing by the door watched his master through the night, wondering what the outcome of his agitation would be. it were useless attempting to describe how the gloomy soul of the jew exercised itself. his now ungovernable passions ran riot within him. he who had seen so much of life, who had made history as the loomsmen of bokhara make carpets, who dealt with kings and kingdoms, and the superlatives of every kind canonized in the human imagination--he to be so demeaned! yet it was not the disrespect to himself personally that did the keenest stinging, nor even the enmity of heaven denying him the love permitted every other creature, bird, beast, crawling reptile, monster of the sea--these were as the ruffling of the weather feathers of a fighting eagle, compared with the torture he endured from consciousness of impotency to punish the wrongdoers as he would like to punish them. that lael was immured somewhere in the city, he doubted not; and he would find her, for what door could stand shut against knocking by a hand with money in it? but might it not be too late? the flower he could recover, but the fragrance and purity of bloom--what of them? how his breast enlarged and shrank under the electric touch of that idea! the devil who did the deed might escape him, for hell was vast and deep; yet the city remained, even the byzantium ancient of days like himself, and he would hold it a hostage for the safe return of his gul bahar. all the night long he walked without pause; it seemed unending to him; at length the faintest rosy tint, a reflection from morning's palette of splendor, lodged on the glass of his eastern window, and woke him from his misery. at the door he found syama. "syama," he said, kindly, "bring me the little case which has in it my choicest drugs." it was brought him, an oblong gold box encrusted with brilliants. opening it, he found a spatula of fine silver on a crystal lid, and under the lid, in compartments, pellets differently colored, one of which he selected, and dropped in his throat. "there, put it back," he said, returning the box to syama, who went out with it. looking then at the brightness brighter growing through the window, "welcome," he continued, speaking to the day as it were a person: "thou wert slow coming, yet welcome. i am ready for this new labor imposed on me, and shall not rest, or sleep, or hunger, or thirst until it is done. thou shalt see i have not lived fourteen centuries for nothing; that in a hunt for vengeance i have not lost my cunning. i will give them till thou hast twice run thy course; then, if they bring her not, they will find the god they worship once more the lord god of israel." syama returned. "thou art a faithful man, syama, and i love thee. get me a cup of the cipango leaves--no bread, the cup alone." while waiting, the prince continued his silent walk; but when the tea was brought, he said: "good! it shall go after the meat of the poppies"--adding to syama--"while i drink, do thou seek uel, and bring him to me." when the son of jahdai entered, the prince looked at him a moment, and asked: "hast thou word of her?" "not a word, not one word," and with the reply the merchant's face sunk until the chin rested on his breast. the hopelessness observable in the voice, joined to the signs of suffering apparent in the manner, was irresistibly touching. another instant, then the elder advanced to him, and took his hand. "we are brothers," he said, with exceeding gentleness. "she was our child--ours--thine, yet mine. she loved us both. we loved her, thou not more, i not less. she went not willingly from us; we know that much, because we know she loved us, me not less, thee not more. a pitfall was digged for her. let us find it. she is calling for us from the bottom--i hear her--now thy name, now mine--and there is no time to be lost. wilt thou do as i say?" "you are strong, and i weak; be it entirely as you say," uel answered, without looking up, for there were tears in his eyes, and a great groan growing in his throat. "well, see thou now. we will find the child, be the pit ever so deep; but--it is well bethinking--we may not find her the undefiled she was, or we may find her dead. i believe she had a spirit to prefer death to dishonor--but dead or dishonored, wilt thou merge thy interest in her into mine?" "yes." "i alone am to decide then what best becomes us to do. is it agreed?" "yes--such faith have i in you." "oh, but understand thee, son of jahdai! i speak not merely as a father, but as an israelite." uel looked at the speaker's face, and was startled. the calm voice, low and evenly toned, to which he had been listening, had not prepared him for the livid pursing he saw under the eyes, and the pupils lurid and unnaturally dilated--effects we know, good reader, of the meat of the poppies assisted by the friendly cipango leaves. yet the merchant replied, strong in the other's strength: "am not i, too, an israelite?--only do not take her from me." "fear not. now, son of jahdai, let us to work. let us first find our pretty child." again uel was astonished. the countenance was bright and beaming with confidence. a world of energy seemed to have taken possession of the man. he looked inspired--looked as if a tap of his finger could fetch the extremities of the continent rolling like a carpet to his feet. "go now, my brother uel, and bring hither all the clerks in the market." "all of them--all? consider the expense." "nay, son of jahdai, be thou a true israelite. in trade, this for that, consider the profits and stand on them closely, getting all thou canst. but here is no trade--here is honor--our honor--thine, mine. shall a christian beat us, and wear the virtue of our daughter as it were a leman's favor? no, by abraham--by the mother of israel"--a returning surge of passion blackened his face again, and quickened his speech--"by rachael and sarah, and all the god-loving asleep in hebron, in this cause our money shall flow like water--even as the euphrates in swollen tide goes bellowing to the sea, it shall flow. i will fill the mouths and eyes as well as the pockets of this byzantium with it, until there shall not be a dune on the beach, a cranny in the wall, a rathole in its accursed seven hills unexamined. yes, the say is mine--so thou didst agree--deny it not! bid the clerks come, and quickly--only see to it that each brings his writing material, and a piece of paper large as his two hands. this house for their assemblage. haste. time flies--and from the pit, out of the shadows in the bottom of the pit, i hear the voice of lael calling now to thee, now to me." uel was not deficient in strength of purpose, nor for that matter in judgment; he went and in haste; and the clerks flocked to the prince, and wrote at his dictation. before half the breakfasts in the city were eaten, vacant places at the church doors, the cheeks of all the gates, and the fronts of houses blazed with handbills, each with a reader before it proclaiming to listening groups: "byzantines! "fathers and mothers of byzantium! "last evening the daughter of uel the merchant, a child of sixteen, small in stature, with dark hair and eyes, and fair to see, was set upon in the garden of the bucoleon, and stolen out of her sedan chair. neither she, nor the bulgarians carrying her have been heard of since. "rewards. "out of love of the child, whose name was lael, i will pay him who returns her to me living or dead " , bezants in gold. "and to him who brings me the abductor, or the name of any one engaged in the crime, with proof to convict him, " , bezants in gold. "inquire of me at uel's stall in the market. "prince of india." thus the jew began his campaign of discovery, meaning to follow it up with punishment first, and then vengeance, the latter in conditional mood. let us not stop to ask about motives. this much is certain, the city arose with one mind. such a running here and there had never been known, except possibly the times enemies in force sat down before the gates. the walls landwardly by the sea and harbor, and the towers of the walls above and below; old houses whose solitariness and decay were suspicious; new houses and their cellars; churches from crypt to pulpit and gallery; barracks and magazines, even the baker's ovens attached to them; the wharves and vessels tied up and the ships at anchor--all underwent a search. hunting parties invaded the woods. scorpions were unnested, and bats and owls made unhappy by daylight where daylight had never been before. convents and monasteries were not exempt. the sea was dragged, and the great moat from the golden gate to the cynegion raked for traces of a new-made grave. nor less were the cemeteries overhauled, and tombs and sarcophagi opened, and saints' rests dug into and profaned. in short, but one property in byzantium was respected--that of the emperor. by noon the excitement had crossed to galata, and was at high tide in the isles of the princes. such power was there in the offer of bezants in gold--six thousand for the girl, five thousand for one of her captors--singly, a fortune to stir the cupidity of a duke--together, enough to enlist a king in the work. and everywhere the two questions--has she been found? and who is the prince of india? poor uel had not space to think of his loss or yield to sorrow; the questions kept him so busy. it must not be supposed now in this all but universal search, nobody thought of the public cisterns. they were visited. frequently through the day parties followed each other to the imperial reservoir; but the keeper was always in his place, cool, wary, and prepared for them. he kept open door and offered no hindrance to inspection of his house. to interrogators he gave ready replies: "i was at home last night from sunset to sunrise. at dark i closed up, and no one could have come in afterwards without my seeing him.... i know the chair of the merchant's daughter. it is the finest in the city. the bulgarians have carried it past my house, but they never stopped.... oh, yes, you are welcome to do with the cistern what you please. there is the doorway to the court, and in the court is the descent to the water." sometimes he would treat the subject facetiously: "if the girl were here, i should know it, and if i knew it--ha, ha, ha!--are bezants in gold by the thousand more precious to you than to me? do you think i too would not like to be rich?--i who live doggedly on three noumias, helped now and then by scanty palm-salves from travellers?" this treatment was successful. one party did insist on going beyond the court. they descended the steps about half way, looked at the great gray pillars in ghostly rows receding off into a blackness of silence thick with damps and cellar smells, each a reminder of contagion; then at the motionless opaque water, into which the pillars sank to an unknown depth: and they shivered, and cried: "ugh! how cold and ugly!" and hastened to get out. undoubtedly appearances helped save the ancient cistern from examination; yet there were other influences to the same end. its vastness was a deterrent. a thorough survey required organization and expensive means, such as torches, boats, fishing tongs and drag-nets; and why scour it at all, if not thoroughly and over every inch? well, well--such was the decision--the trouble is great, and the uncertainty greater. another class was restrained by a sentiment possibly the oldest and most general amongst men; that which casts a spell of sanctity around wells and springs, and stays the hand about to toss an impurity into a running stream; which impels the north american indian to replace the gourd, and the bedouin to spare the bucket for the next comer, though an enemy. in other words, the cistern was in daily use. one can imagine the scene at the prince's through the day. to bring a familiar term into service, his house was headquarters. about eight o'clock the sedan was brought home empty, and without a sign of defacement inside or out. it told no tale. noon, and still no clew. in the afternoon there was an observable cessation of vigor in the quest. thousands broke off, and went about their ordinary business, giving the reason. "which way now?" would be asked them. "home." "what! has she been found?" "not that we know." "ah, you have given up." "yes." "why?" "we are satisfied the bulgarians stole the girl. the turks have her; and now for a third part of either of the rewards he offers, the prince of india, whoever he is, can ransom her. he will have plenty of time. there is no such thing as haste in a harem." by lamplighting in the evening, the capital resumed its customary quiet, and of the turmoil of the day, the rush and eager halloo, the promiscuous delving into secret places, and upturning of things strange and suspicious, there remained nothing but a vast regret--vast in the collective sense--for the rewards lost. quiet crept into headquarters. to the prince's insistence that the hunt go on, he was advised to prosecute the inquest on the other side of the bosphorus. the argument presented him was plausible; either--thus it ran--the bulgarians carried the child away with them or she was taken from them. they were stout men, yet there is no sign of a struggle. if they were killed, we should find their bodies; if they are alive and innocent, why are they not here? they would be entitled to the rewards along with the best of us. seeing the drift, the prince refrained from debate. he only looked more grim and determined. when the house was cleared, he took the floor again fiercely restless as before. later on uel came in, tired, spirit-worn, and apparently in the last stage of despondency. "well, son of jahdai, my poor brother," said the prince, much moved, and speaking tenderly. "it is night, and what bringest thou?" "alas! nothing, except the people say the bulgarians did it." "the bulgarians! would it were so; for look thee, in their hands she would be safe. their worst of villany would be a ransom wrung from us. ah, no! they might have been drawn into the conspiracy; but take her, they did not. how could they have passed the gates unseen? the night was against them. and besides, they have not the soul to devise or dare the deed. this is no common criminal, my brother. when he is found--and he will be, or hell hath entered into partnership with him--thou wilt see a greek of title, bold from breeding and association, behind him an influence to guarantee him against the law and the emperor. of the classes in byzantium to-day, who are the kings? who but the monks? and here is a morsel of wisdom, true, else my experience is a delusion: in decaying and half-organized states, the boldest in defying public opinion are they who have the most to do in making it." "i do not understand you," uel interposed. "thou art right, my brother. i know not why i am arguing; yet i ought not to leave thee in the dark now; therefore i will go a step further. thou art a jew--not a hebrew, or an israelite, mark thee--but in the contemptuous gentile sense, a jew. she, our gentle gul-bahar, hath her beating of heart from blood thou gavest her. i also am a jew. now, of the classes in byzantium, which is it by whom hate of jews is the article of religion most faithfully practised? think if it be not the same from whose shops proceed the right and wrong of the time--the same i myself scarce three days gone saw insult and mortify the man they chose emperor, and not privately, in the depths of a monastery or chapel, but publicly, his court present.... ah, now thou seest my meaning! in plainest speech, my brother, when he who invented this crime is set down before us, look not for a soldier, or a sailor, or one of thy occupation--look not for a beggar, or a laborer, or an islamite--look rather for a greek, with a right from relationship near or remote to summon the whole priestly craft to hold up his hands against us, jews that we are. but i am not discouraged. i shall find her, and the titled outlaw who stole her. or--but threats now are idle. they shall have tomorrow to bring her home. i pray pardon for keeping thee from rest and sleep. go now. in the morning betimes see thou that the clerks come back to me here. i will have need of them again, for"--he mused a moment--"yes, if that i purpose must be, then, the worst betiding us, they shall not say i was hard and merciless, and cut their chances scant." uel was at the door going, when the prince called him back. "wait--i do not need rest. thou dost. is syama there?" "yes." "send him to me." when the slave was come, "go," the master said, "and bring me the golden case." and when it was brought, he took out a pellet, and gave it to uel. "there--take it, and thou shalt sleep sound as the dead, and have never a dream--sound, yet healthfully. to-morrow we must work. to-morrow," he repeated when uel was gone--"to-morrow! till then, eternity." let us now shift the scene to the monastery of the st. james'. it is eight o'clock in the morning--about the time the empty sedan was being brought to the prince's house. sergius had been hearkening for the hegumen's bell, and at the moment we look in upon him, he is with the venerable superior, helping him to breakfast, if a meal so frugal deserves the name. the young russian, it is to be said, retired to his cell immediately upon the conclusion of the festival of flowers the evening before. awaking early, he made personal preparation for the day, and with the brotherhood in the chapel, performed the matinal breviary services, consisting of lauds, psalms, lections and prayers. then he took seat by his superior's door. by and by the bell called him in, and thenceforward he was occupied in the kitchen or at the elder's elbow. in brief, he knew nothing of the occurrence which had so overwhelmed the merchant and the prince of india. the hegumen sat on a broad armless chair, very pale and weak--so poorly, indeed, that the brethren had excused him from chapel duties. having filled a flagon with water, sergius was offering it to him, when the door opened without knock, or other warning, and demedes entered. moving silently to his father, he stooped, and kissed his hand with an unction which brought a smile to the sunken face. "god's benison on you, my boy. i was thinking of the airs of prinkipo or halki, and that they might help me somewhat; but now you are here, i will put them off. bring the bench to my right hand, and partake with me, if but to break a crust." "the crust has the appearance of leaven in it, and you know the party to which i belong. i am not an _azymite_." there was scarcely an attempt to conceal the sneer with which the young man glanced at the brown loaf gracing the platter on the hegumen's knees. seeing then a look of pain on the paternal countenance, he continued: "no, i have had breakfast, and came to see how you are, and to apprise you that the city is being stirred from the foam on top to the dregs at the bottom, all because of an occurrence last evening, so incredible, so strange, so audacious, and so wicked it weakens confidence in society, and almost forces one to look up and wonder if god does not sometimes sleep." the hegumen and his attendant were aroused. both gazed at demedes looking the same question. "i hesitate to tell you, my dear father, of the affair, it is so shocking. the chill of the first hearing has not left me. i am excited body and mind, and you know how faithfully i have tried to school myself against excitement--it is unbecoming--only the weak suffer it. rather than trust myself to the narrative--though as yet there are no details--i plucked a notice from a wall while coming, and as it was the first i had of the news, and contains all i know, i brought it along; and if you care to hear, perhaps our friend sergius will kindly give you the contents. his voice is better than mine, and he is perfectly calm." "yes, sergius will read. give him the paper." thereupon demedes passed to sergius one of the handbills with which the prince of india had sown the city. after the first line, the monk began stammering and stumbling; at the close of the first sentence, he stopped. then he threw a glance at the greek, and from the gaze with which he was met, he drew understanding and self-control. "i ask thy grace, father," he said, raising the paper, and looking at the signature. "i am acquainted with uel the merchant, and with the child said to be stolen. i also know the man whose title is here attached. he calls himself prince of india, but by what right i cannot say. the circumstance is a great surprise to me; so, with thy pardon, i will try the reading again." sergius finished the paper, and returned it to demedes. the hegumen folded his hands, and said: "oh, the flow of mercy cannot endure forever!" then the young men looked at each other. to be surprised when off guard, is to give our enemy his best opportunity. this was the advantage the greek then had. he was satisfied with the working of his scheme; yet one dread had disturbed him through the night. what would the russian do? and when he read the prince's proclamation, and saw the rewards offered, in amounts undreamt of, he shivered; not, as he told the hegumen, from horror at the crime; still less from fear that the multitude might blunder on discovery; and least of all from apprehension of betrayal from his assistants, for, with exception of the cistern-keeper, they were all in flight, and a night's journey gone. be the mass of enemies ever so great, there is always one to inspire us with liveliest concern. here it was sergius. he had come so recently into the world--descent from a monastery in the far north was to the metropolitan much like being born again--there was no telling what he might do. thus moved and uncertain, the conspirator resolved to seek his adversary, if such he were, and boldly try him. in what spirit would he receive the news? that was the thought behind the gaze demedes now bent on the unsophisticated pupil of the saintly father hilarion. sergius returned the look without an effort to hide the pain he really felt. his utmost endeavor was to control his feelings. with no idea of simulation, he wanted time to think. altogether it would have been impossible for him to have chosen a course more perplexing to demedes, who found himself driven to his next play. "you know now," he said to his father, "why i decline to break a crust with you. i must go and help uncover this wicked deed. the rewards are great"--he smiled blandly--"and i should like to win one of them at least--the first one, for i have seen the girl called lael. she interested me, and i was in danger from her. on one occasion"--he paused to throw a glance to sergius--"i even made advances to become acquainted with her, but she repulsed me. as the prince of india says, she was fair to see. i am sure i have your permission to engage in the hunt." "go, and god speed you," the hegumen responded. "thank you; yet another request." he turned to the russian. "now is sergius here tall, and, if his gown belie him not, stout, and there may be need of muscle as well as spirit; for who can tell where our feet will take us in a game like this, or what or whom we may confront? i ask you to permit him to go with me." "nay," said the hegumen, "i will urge him to go." sergius answered simply: "not now. i am under penance, and to-day bound to the third breviary prayers. when they are finished, i will gladly go." "i am disappointed," demedes rejoined. "but i must make haste." he kissed the hegumen's hand and retired; after which, the meal speedily concluded, sergius gathered the few articles of service on the platter, and raised it, but stopped to say: "after prayers, with your consent, reverend father, i will take part in this affair." "thou hast my consent." "it may take several days." "give thyself all the time required. the errand is of mercy." and the holy man extended his hand, and sergius saluted it reverently, and went out. if the young monastic kept not fast hold of the holy forms prescribed immemorially for the third hour's service, there is little doubt he was forgiven in the higher court before which he was supposed present, for never had he been more nearly shaken out of his better self than by the prince's proclamation. he had managed to appear composed while under demedes' observation. in the language of the time, some protecting saint prompted him to beware of the greek, and keeping the admonition, he had come well out of the interview; but hardly did the hegumen's door close behind him before lael's untoward fate struck him with effect. he hurried to his cell, thinking to recover himself; but it was as if he were pursued by a voice calling him, and directly the voice seemed hers, sharp and piercing from terror. a little later he took to answering the appeal--i hear, but where art thou? his agitation grew until the bell summoned him to the chapel, and the sound was gladdening on account of the companionship it promised. surely the voice would be lost in the full-toned responses of the brethren. not so. he heard it even more clearly. then, to place himself certainly beyond it, he begged an ancient worshipper at his side to loan him his triptych. for once, however, the sorrowful figure of the christ on the central tablet was of no avail, hold it close as he might; strange to say, the face of the graven image assumed her likeness; so he was worse off than before, for now her suffering look was added to her sorrowful cry. at last the service was over. rushing back to his cell he exchanged his black gown for the coarse gray garment with which he had sallied from bielo-osero. folding the veil, and putting it carefully away in his hat, he went forth, a hunter as the multitude were hunters; only, as we shall presently see, his zeal was more lasting than theirs, and he was owner of an invaluable secret. on the street he heard everywhere of the rewards, and everywhere the question, has she been found? the population, women and children included, appeared to have been turned out of their houses. the corners were possessed by them, and it will be easy for readers who have once listened to greeks in hot debate to fancy how on this occasion they were heard afar. yet sergius went his way unobservant of the remarks drawn by the elephantine ears of his outlandish hood, his tall form, and impeded step. had one stopped him to ask, where are you going? it is doubtful if he could have told. he had no plan; he was being pulled along by a pain of heart rather than a purpose--moving somnolently through a light which was also a revelation, for now he knew he loved the lost girl--knew it, not by something past, such as recollections of her sweetness and beauty, but by a sense of present bereavement, an agonizing impulsion, a fierce desire to find the robber, a murderous longing the like of which had never assailed him. the going was nearest an answer he could make to the voice calling him, equivalent to, i am coming. he sped through the hippodrome outwalking everybody; then through the enclosure of sancta sophia; then down the garden terraces--oh, that the copse could have told him the chapter it had witnessed!--then up the broad stairway to the promenade, and along it toward port st. julian, never pausing until he was at the bench in the angle of the wall from which he had overheard demedes' story of the plague of crime. now the bench was not in his mind when he started from the monastery; neither had he thought of it on the way, or of the dark history it had helped him to; in a freak, he took the seat he had formerly occupied, placed his arm along the coping of the parapet, and closed his eyes. and strange to say, the conversation of that day repeated itself almost word for word. stranger still, it had now a significancy not then observed; and as he listened, he interpreted, and the fever of spirit left him. about an hour before noon, he arose from the bench like one refreshed by sleep, cool, thoughtful, capable. in the interval he had put off boyishness, and taken on manhood replete with a faculty for worldly thinking that would have alarmed father hilarion. in other words, he was seeing things as they were; that bad and good, for instance, were coexistent, one as much a part of the plan of creation as the other; that religion could only regulate and reform; that the end of days would find good men striving with bad men--in brief, that demedes was performing the role to which his nature and aptitude assigned him, just as the venerable hegumen, his father, was feebly essaying a counterpart. nor was that all. the new ideas to which he had been converted facilitated reflection along the lines of wickedness. in the plague of crime, told the second time, he believed he had found what had befallen lael. demedes, he remembered, gave the historic episode to convince his protesting friend how easy it would be to steal and dispose of her. the argument pointed to the imperial cistern as the hiding-place. sergius' first prompting was to enlist the aid of the prince of india, and go straight to the deliverance; but he had arisen from the bench a person very different from a blind lover. not that his love had cooled--ah, no! but there were things to be done before exposing his secret. thus, his curiosity had never been strong enough to induce him to look into the cistern. was it not worth while to assure himself of the possibility of its conversion to the use suspected? he turned, and walked back rapidly--down the stairway, up the terraces, and through the hippodrome. suddenly he was struck with the impolicy of presenting himself to the cistern-keeper in his present costume--it would be such a help to identification by demedes. so he continued on to the monastery, and resumed the black gown and tall hat. the hegumen's door, which he had to pass in going out again, served him with another admonition. if demedes were exposed through his endeavor, what of the father? if, in the conflict certain of precipitation, the latter sided with his son--and what could be more natural?--would not the brotherhood follow him? how then could he, sergius, a foreigner, young, and without influence, combat a fraternity powerful in the city and most powerful up at blacherne? at this, it must be confessed, the young man's step lost its elasticity; his head sunk visibly, and the love just found was driven to divide its dominion with a well-grounded practical apprehension. yet he walked on, out of the gate, and thence in the direction of the cistern. arrived there, he surveyed the wooden structure doubtfully. the door was open, and just inside of it the keeper sat stick in hand drumming upon the brick pavement, a man of medium height and rather pleasant demeanor. "i am a stranger here," sergius said to him. "the cistern is public, i believe; may i see it?" "it is public, and you may look at it all you want. the door there at the end of the passage will let you into the court. if you have trouble in finding the stairway down, call me." sergius dropped some small coin into the keeper's hand. the court was paved with yellow roman brick, and moderately spacious. an oblong curbing in the centre without rails marked the place of descent to the water. overhead there was nothing to interfere with the fall of light from the blue sky, except that in one corner a shed had been constructed barely sufficient to protect a sedan chair deposited there, its poles on end leant against the wall. sergius noticed the chair and the poles, then looked down over the curbing into a doorway, and saw four stone steps leading to a platform three or four feet square. observing a further descent, he went down to the landing, where he paused long enough to be satisfied that the whole stairway was built into the eastern wall of the cistern. the light was already dim. proceeding carefully, for the stones were slippery, he counted fourteen steps to another landing, the width of the first but quite ten feet long, and slightly submerged with water. here, as he could go no further, he stopped to look about him. it is true there was not much to be seen, yet he was at once impressed with a sense of vastness and durability. a dark and waveless sheet lay stretched before him, merging speedily into general blackness. about four yards away and as many apart, two gigantic pillars arose out of the motionless flood stark and ghostly gray. behind them, suggestive of rows with an aisle between, other pillars were seen, mere upright streaks of uncertain hue fainter growing in the shadowy perspective. below there was nothing to arrest a glance. raising his eyes to the roof above him, out of the semi-obscurity, he presently defined a brick vault springing boldly from the corinthian capitals of the nearest pillars, and he knew straightway the roof was supported by a system of vaults susceptible of indefinite extension. but how was he, standing on a platform at the eastern edge of the reservoir, mighty in so many senses, to determine its shape, width, length? stooping he looked down the vista straining his vision, but there was no opposite wall--only darkness and impenetrability. he filled his lungs trying the air, and it was damp but sweet. he stamped with force--there was a rumble in the vault overhead--that was all. he called: "lael, lael"--there was no answer, though he listened, his soul in his ears. therewith he gave over trying to sound the great handmade cavern, and lingered awhile muttering: "it is possible, it is possible! at the end of this row of pillars"--he made a last vain effort to discover the end--"there may be a house afloat, and she"--he clinched his hands, and shook with a return of murderous passion--"god help her! nay, god help me! if she is here, as i believe, i will find her." in the court he again noticed the sedan in the corner. "i am obliged to you," he said to the keeper by the door. "how old is the cistern?" "constantine begun it, and justinian finished it, they say." "is it in use now?" "they let buckets down through traps in the roof." "do you know how large it is?" [footnote: yere batan serai, or the underground palace, the ancient royal cistern, or cistern of constantine, is in rank, as well as in interest and beauty, the chief byzantine cistern. it is on the right-hand side of the tramway street, west of st. sophia. the entrance is in the yard of a large ottoman house in last street on the right of tramway street before the tramway turns abruptly west (to right) after passing st. sophia. this cistern was built by constantine the great, and deepened and enlarged by justinian the great in , the first year of his reign. it has been in constant use ever since. the water is supplied from unknown and subterranean sources, sometimes rising nearly to the capitals of the columns. it is still in admirable preservation: all its columns are in position, and almost the entire roof is intact. the columns are arranged in twelve rows of twenty-eight, there being in all three hundred and thirty-six, which are twelve feet distant from each other or from the wall. some of the capitals are corinthian; others plain, hardly more than truncated pyramids. the roof consists of a succession of brick vaults. on left side in yard of the large ottoman house already mentioned is a trap-door. one is let down over a rickety ladder about four feet to the top of four high stone steps, which descend on the left to a platform about three and one-half feet square which projects without railing over the water. thence fourteen steps, also without railing, conduct to another platform below, about three and one-half feet wide and ten feet long. sometimes this lower platform and the nearer steps are covered with water, though seldom in summer and early fall. these steps are uneven--in places are broken and almost wanting; and they as well as both platforms are exceedingly slippery. the place is absolutely dark save for the feeble rays which glimmer from the lantern of the guide. one should remember there is no railing or barrier of any sort, and not advance an inch without seeing where he puts his foot. then there is no danger. moreover, the platform below is less slippery than the steps or the platform above. visitors will do well to each bring his own candle or small lantern, not for illumination but for safety. when the visitors have arrived on the lower platform, which is near the middle of the eastern side against the wall, the guide, who has not descended the steps, lights a basket of shavings or other quick combustible on the platform above. the effect is instantaneous and magical. suddenly from an obscurity so profound that only the outline of the nearest columns can be faintly discerned by the flicker of a candle, the entire maze of columns flashes into being resplendent and white. the roof and the water send the light back to each other. not a sound is heard save distant splashes here and there as a bucket descends to supply the necessities of some house above. nowhere can be beheld a scene more weird and enchanting. it will remain printed on the memory when many another experience of stamboul is dim or forgotten. professor grosvenor. constantinople.] the keeper laughed, and pommelled the pavement vigorously: "i was never through it--haven't the courage--nor do i know anybody who has been. they say it has a thousand pillars, and that it is supplied by a river. they tell too how people have gone into it with boats, and never come out, and that it is alive with ghosts; but of these stories i say nothing, because i know nothing." sergius thereupon departed. chapter xxii the prince of india seeks mahommed all the next night, syama, his ear against his master's door, felt the jar of the machine-like tread in the study. at intervals it would slow, but not once did it stop. the poor slave was himself nearly worn out. sympathy has a fashion of burdening us without in the least lightening the burden which occasions it. to-morrows may be long coming, but they keep coming. time is a mill, and to-morrows are but the dust of its grinding. uel arose early. he had slept soundly. his first move was to send the prince all the clerks he could find in the market, and shortly afterwards the city was re-blazoned with bills. "byzantines! "fathers and mothers of byzantium! "lael, the daughter of uel the merchant, has not been found. wherefore i now offer , bezants in gold for her dead or alive, and , bezants in gold for evidence which will lead to the discovery and conviction of her abductors. "the offers will conclude with to-day. "prince of india." there was a sensation when the new placards had been generally read; yet the hunt of the day before was not resumed. it was considered exhausted. men and women poured into the streets and talked and talked--about the prince of india. by ten o'clock all known of him and a great deal more had gone through numberless discussions; and could he have heard the conclusions reached he had never smiled again. by a consensus singularly unanimous, he was an indian, vastly rich, but not a prince, and his interest in the stolen girl was owing to forbidden relations. this latter part of the judgment, by far the most cruel, might have been traced to demedes. in all the city there had not been a more tireless hunter than demedes. he seemed everywhere present--on the ships, on the walls, in the gardens and churches--nay, it were easier telling where he had not been. and by whomsoever met, he was in good spirits, fertile in suggestions, and sure of success. he in fact distinguished himself in the search, and gave proof of a knowledge of the capital amazing to the oldest inhabitants. of course his role was to waste the energy of the mass. in every pack of beagles it is said there is one particularly gifted in the discovery of false scents. such was demedes that first day, until about two o'clock. the results of the quest were then in, and of the theories to which he listened, nothing pleased him like the absence of a suggestion of the second sedan. there were witnesses to tell of the gorgeous chair, and its flitting here and yonder through the twilight; none saw the other. this seems to have sufficed him, and he suddenly gave up the chase; appearing in the garden of the bucoleon, he declared the uselessness of further effort. the jewess, he said, was not in byzantium; she had been carried off by the bulgarians, and was then on the road to some turkish harem. from that moment the search began to fall off, and by evening it was entirely discontinued. upon appearance of the placards the second day, demedes was again equal to the emergency. he collected his brethren in the temple, organized them into parties, and sent them everywhere--to galata, to the towns along the bosphorus, down the western shore of the marmora, over to the islands, and up to the forest of belgrade--to every place, in short, except the right one. and this conduct, apparently sincere, certainly energetic, bore its expected fruit; by noon he was the hero of the occasion, the admiration of the city. when very early in the second day the disinclination of the people to renew the search was reported to the prince of india, he looked incredulous, and broke out: "what! not for ten thousand bezants!--more gold than they have had in their treasury at one time in ten years!--enough to set up three empires of such dwindle! to what is the world coming?" an hour or so later, he was told of the total failure of his second proclamation. the information drove him with increased speed across the floor. "i have an adversary somewhere," he was saying to himself--"an adversary more powerful than gold in quantity. are there two such in byzantium?" an account of demedes' action gave him some comfort. about the third hour, sergius asked to see him, and was admitted. after a simple expression of sympathy, the heartiness of which was attested by his sad voice and dejected countenance, the monk said: "prince of india, i cannot tell you the reasons of my opinion; yet i believe the young woman is a prisoner here in this city. i will also beg you not to ask me where i think she is held, or by whom. it may turn out that i am mistaken; i will then feel better of having had no confidant. with this statement--submitted with acknowledged uncertainty--can you trust me?" "you are sergius, the monk?" "so they call me; though here i have not been raised to the priesthood." "i have heard the poor child speak of you. you were a favorite with her." the prince spoke with trouble. "i am greatly pleased to hear it." the trouble of the prince was contagious, but sergius presently recovered. "probably the best certificate of my sincerity, prince--the best i can furnish you--is that your gold is no incentive to the trial at finding her which i have a mind to make. if i succeed, a semblance of pay or reward would spoil my happiness." the jew surveyed him curiously. "almost i doubt you," he said. "yes, i can understand. avarice is so common, and disinterestedness, friendship, and love so uncommon." "verily, a great truth has struck you early." "well, hear what i have to ask." "speak." "you have in your service an african"-- "nilo?" "that is his name. he is strong, faithful, and brave, qualities i may need more than gold. will you allow him to go with me?" the prince's look and manner changed, and he took the monk's hand. "forgive me," he said warmly--"forgive me, if i spoke doubtfully--forgive me, if i misunderstood you." then, with his usual promptitude, he went to the door, and bade syama bring nilo. "you know my method of speech with him?" the prince asked. "yes," sergius replied. "if you have instructions for him, see they are given in a good light, for in the dark he cannot comprehend." nilo came, and kissed his master's hand. he understood the trouble which had befallen. "this," the prince said to him, "is sergius, the monk. he believes he knows where the little princess is, and has asked that you may go with him. are you willing?" the king looked assent. "it is arranged," the master added to sergius. "have you other suggestion?" "it were better he put off his african costume." "for the greek?" "the greek will excite less attention." "very well." in a short time nilo presented himself in byzantine dress, with exception of a bright blue handkerchief on his head. "now, i pray you, prince, give me a room. i wish to talk with the man privately." the request was granted, the instructions given, and sergius reappeared to take leave. "nilo and i are good friends, prince. he understands me." "he may be too eager. remember i found him a savage." with these words, the prince and the young russian parted. after this nobody came to the house. the excitement had been a flash. now it seemed entirely dead, and dead without a clew. when time goes afoot his feet are of lead; and in this instance his walk was over the prince's heart. by noon he was dreadfully wrought up. "let them look to it, let them look to it!" he kept repeating, sometimes shaking a clinched hand. occasionally the idea to which he thus darkly referred had power to bring him to a halt. "i have an adversary. who is he?" ere long the question possessed him entirely. it was then as if he despaired of recovering lael, and had but one earthly object--vengeance. "ah, my god, my god! am i to lose her, and never know my enemy? action, action, or i will go mad!" uel came with his usual report: "alas! i have nothing." the prince scarcely heard or saw him. "there are but two places where this enemy can harbor," he was repeating to himself--"but two; the palace and"--he brought his hands together vehemently--"the church. where else are they who have power to arrest a whole people in earnest movement? whom else have i offended? ay, there it is! i preached god; therefore the child must perish. so much for christian pity!" all the forces in his nature became active. "go," he said to uel, "order two men for my chair. syama will attend me." the merchant left him on the floor patting one hand with another. "yes, yes, i will try it--i will see if there is such thing as christian pity--i will see. it may have swarmed, and gone to hive at blacherne." in going to the palace, he continually exhorted the porters: "faster, faster, my men!" the officer at the gate received him kindly, and came back with the answer, "his majesty will see you." again the audience chamber, constantine on the dais, his courtiers each in place; again the dean in his role of grand chamberlain; again the prostrations. ceremony at blacherne was never remitted. there is a poverty which makes kings miserable. "draw nearer, prince," said constantine, benignly. "i am very busy. a courier arrived this morning from adrianople with report that my august friend, the sultan amurath, is sick, and his physicians think him sick unto death. i was not prepared for the responsibilities which are rising; but i have heard of thy great misfortune, and out of sympathy bade my officer bring thee hither. by accounts the child was rarely intelligent and lovely, and i did not believe there was in my capital a man to do her such inhuman wrong. the progress of the search thou didst institute so wisely i have watched with solicitude little less than thine own. my officials everywhere have orders to spare no effort or expense to discover the guilty parties; for if the conspiracy succeed once, it will derive courage and try again, thus menacing every family in my empire. if thou knowest aught else in my power to do, i will gladly hear it." the emperor, intent upon his expressions, failed to observe the gleam which shone in the wanderer's eyes, excited by mention of the condition of the sultan. "i will not try your majesty's patience, since i know the responsibilities to which you have referred concern the welfare of an empire, while i am troubled not knowing if one poor soul be dead or alive; yet she was the world to me"--thus the prince began, and the knightly soul of the emperor was touched, for his look softened, and with his hand he gently tapped the golden cone of the right arm of his throne. "that which brought me to your feet," the prince continued, "is partly answered. the orders to your officers exhaust your personal endeavor, unless--unless"-- "speak, prince." "your majesty, i shrink from giving offence, and yet i have in this terrible affair an enemy who is my master. yesterday byzantium adopted my cause, and lent me her eyes and hands; before the sun went down her ardor cooled; to-day she will not go a rood. what are we to think, what do, my lord, when gold and pity alike lose their influence? ... i will not stop to say what he must be who is so much my enemy as to lay an icy finger on the warm pulse of the people. when we who have grown old cast about for a hidden foe, where do we habitually look? where, except among those whom we have offended? whom have i offended? here in the audience you honored me with, i ventured to argue in favor of universal brotherhood in faith, and god the principle of agreement; and there were present some who dealt me insult, and menaced me, until your majesty sent armed men to protect me from their violence. they have the ear of the public--they are my adversaries. shall i call them the church?" constantine replied calmly: "the head of the church sat here at my right hand that day, prince, and he did not interrupt you; neither did he menace you. but say you are right--that they of whom you speak are the church--what can i do?" "the church has thunders to terrify and subdue the wicked, and your majesty is the head of the church." "nay, prince, i fear thou hast studied us unfairly. i am a member--a follower--a subscriber to the faith--its thunders are not mine." a despairing look overcast the countenance of the visitor, and he trembled. "oh, my god! there is no hope further--she is lost--lost!" but recovering directly, he said: "i crave pardon for interrupting your majesty. give me permission to retire. i have much work to do." constantine bowed, and on raising his head, declared with feeling to his officers: "the wrong to this man is great." the wanderer moved backward slowly, his eyes emitting uncertain light; pausing, he pointed to the emperor, and said, solemnly: "my lord, thou hadst thy power to do justice from god; it hath slipped from thee. the choice was thine, to rule the church or be ruled by it; thou hast chosen, and art lost, and thy empire with thee." he was at the door before any one present could arouse from surprise; then while they were looking at each other, and making ready to cry out, he came back clear to the dais, and knelt. there was in his manner and countenance so much of utter hopelessness, that the whole court stood still, each man in the attitude the return found him. "my lord," he said, "thou mightest have saved me--i forgive thee that thou didst not. see--here"--he thrust a hand in the bosom of his gown, and from a pocket drew the great emerald--"i will leave thee this talisman--it belonged to king solomon, the son of david--i found it in the tomb of hiram, king of tyre--it is thine, my lord, so thou fitly punish the robber of the lost daughter of my soul, my gul bahar. farewell." he laid the jewel on the edge of the dais, and rising, betook himself to the door again, and disappeared before the dean was sufficiently mindful of his duty. "the man is mad," the emperor exclaimed. "take up the stone"--he spoke to the dean--"and return it to him to-morrow." [footnote: this identical stone, or one very like it, may be seen in the "treasury" which is part of the old serail in stamboul. it is in the first room of entrance, on the second shelf of the great case of curios, right-hand side.] for a time then the emerald was kept passing from hand to hand by the courtiers, none of whom had ever seen its peer for size and brilliance; more than one of them touched it with awe, for despite a disposition to be incredulous in the matter of traditions incident to precious stones, the legend here, left behind him by the mysterious old man, was accepted--this was a talisman--it had belonged to solomon--it had been found by the prince of india--and he was a prince--nobody but indian princes had such emeralds to give away. but while they bandied the talisman about, the emperor sat, his chin in the palm of his right hand, the elbow on the golden cone, not seeing as much as thinking, nor thinking as much as silently repeating the strange words of the stranger: "thou hadst thy power to do justice from god; it hath slipped from thee. the choice was thine to rule the church or be ruled by it. thou hast chosen, and art lost, and thy empire with thee." was this prophetic? what did it mean? and by and by he found a meaning. the first constantine made the church; now the church will unmake the last constantine. how many there are who spend their youth yearning and fighting to write their names in history, then spend their old age shuddering to read them there! the prince of india was scarcely in his study, certainly he was not yet calmed down from the passion into which he had been thrown at blacherne, when syama informed him there was a man below waiting to see him. "who is he?" the servant shook his head. "well, bring him here." presently a gypsy, at least in right of his mother, and tent-born in the valley of buyukdere, slender, dark-skinned, and by occupation a fisherman, presented himself. from the strength of the odor he brought with him, the yield of his net during the night must have been unusually large. "am i in presence of the prince of india?" the man asked, in excellent arabic, and a manner impossible of acquisition except in the daily life of a court of the period. the prince bowed. "the prince of india who is the friend of the sultan mahommed?" the other inquired, with greater particularity. "sultan mahommed? prince mahommed, you mean." "no--mahommed the sultan." a flash of joy leaped from the prince's eyes--the first of the kind in two days. the stranger addressed himself to explanation. "forgive my bringing the smell of mullet and mackerel into your house. i am obeying instructions which require me to communicate with you in disguise. i have a despatch to tell who i am, and more of my business than i know myself." the messenger took from his head the dirty cloth covering it, and from its folds produced a slip of paper; with a salute of hand to breast and forehead, declarative of a turk to the habit born, he delivered the slip, and walked apart to give opportunity for its reading. this was the writing in free translation: "mahommed, son of amurath, sultan of sultans, to the prince of india. "i am about returning to magnesia. my father--may the prayers of the prophet, almighty with god, preserve him from long suffering!--is fast falling into weakness of body and mind. ali, son of abed-din the faithful, is charged instantly the great soul is departed on its way to paradise to ride as the north wind flies, and give thee a record which abed-din is to make on peril of his soul, abating not the fraction of a second. thou wilt understand it, and the purpose of the sending." the prince of india, with the slip in his hand, walked the floor once from west to east to regain the mastery of himself. "ali, son of abed-din the faithful," he then said, "has a record for me." now the thongs of ali's sandals were united just below the instep with brass buttons; stooping he took off that of the left sandal, and gave it a sharp twist; whereupon the top came off, disclosing a cavity, and a ribbon of the finest satin snugly folded in it. he gave the ribbon to the prince, saying: "the button of the plane tree planted has not in promise any great thing like this i take from the button of my sandal. now is my mission done. praised be allah!" and while the prince read, he recapped the button, and restored it in place. the bit of yellow satin, when unfolded, presented a diagram which the prince at first thought a nativity; upon closer inspection, he asked the courier: "son of abed-din, did thy father draw this?" "no, it is the handiwork of my lord, the sultan mahommed." "but it is a record of death, not of birth." "insomuch is my lord, the sultan mahommed, wiser in his youth than many men in their age"--ali paused to formally salute the opinion. "he selected the ribbon, and drew the figure--did all you behold, indeed, except the writing in the square; that he intrusted to my father, saying at the time: 'the prince of india, when he sees the minute in the square, will say it is not a nativity; have one there to tell him i, mahommed, avouch, 'twice in his life i had the throne from my august father; now has he given it to me again, this third time with death to certify it mine in perpetuity; wherefore it is but righteous holding that the instant of his final secession must be counted the beginning of my reign; for often as a man has back the property he parted from as a loan, is it not his? what ceremony is then needed to perfect his title?" "if one have wisdom, o son of abed-din, whence is it except from allah? let not thy opinion of thy young master escape thee. were he to die to-morrow"-- "allah forbid!" exclaimed ali. "fear it not," returned the prince, smiling at the young man's earnestness: "for is it not written, 'a soul cannot die unless by permission of god, according to a writing definite as to time'? [footnote: koran, iii. .]--i was about to say, there is not in his generation another to lie as close in the bosom of the prophet. where is he now?" "he rides doubtless to adrianople. the moment i set out hither, which was next minute after the great decease, a despatch was started for him by khalil the grand vizier." "knowest thou the road he will take?" "by gallipoli." "behold, ali!"--from his finger the prince took a ring. "this for thy good news. now to the road again, the white castle first. tell the governor there to keep ward to-night with unlocked gates, for i may seek them in haste. then put thyself in the lord mahommed's way coming from gallipoli, and when thou hast kissed his sandals for me, and given him my love and duty, tell him i have perfect understanding of the nativity, and will meet him in adrianople. hast thou eaten and drunk?" "eaten, not drunk, my lord." "come then, and i will put thee in the way to some red wine; for art thou not a traveller?" the son of abed-din saluted, saying simply: "_meshallah!_" and was presently in care of syama; after which the prince took the ribbon to the table, spread it out carefully, and stood over it in the strong light, studying the symbols and writing in the square of [illustration: the diagram.] "it is the nativity of an empire, [footnote: since the conquest of constantinople by mahommed, turkey has been historically counted an empire.] not a man," the prince said, his gaze still on the figure--"an empire which i will make great for the punishment of these robbers of children." he stood up at the last word, and continued, excitedly: "it is the word of god, else it had not come to me now nigh overcome and perishing in bitter waters; and it calls me to do his will. give over the child, it says--she is lost to thee. go up now, and be thou my instrument this once again--i am the i am whom moses knew, the lord god of israel who covenanted with abraham, and with whom there is no forgetting--no, not though the world follow the leaf blown into the mouth of a roaring furnace. i hear, o god! i hear--i am going!" this, it will be observed, is the second of the two days of grace the prince appears to have given the city for the return of lael; and as it is rapidly going without a token of performance, our curiosity increases to know the terrible thing in reserve of which some of his outbursts have vaguely apprised us. a few turns across the floor brought him back to apparent calmness; indeed, but for the fitful light in his eyes and the swollen veins about his temples, it might be supposed he had been successful in putting his distresses by. he brought syama in, and, for the first time in two days, took a seat. "listen, and closely," he said; "for i would be sure you comprehend me. have you laid the sacred books in the boxes?" syama, in his way, answered, yes. "are the boxes secure? they may have to go a long journey." "yes." "did you place the jewels in new bags? the old ones were well nigh gone." "yes." "are they in the gurglet now?" "yes." "you know we will have to keep it filled with water." "yes." "my medicines--are they ready for packing?" "yes." "return them to their cases carefully. i cannot afford to leave or lose them. and the sword--is it with the books?" "yes." "very well. attend again. on my return from the voyage i made the other day for the treasure you have in care"--he paused for a sign of comprehension--"i retained the vessel in my service, and directed the captain to be at anchor in the harbor before st. peter's gate"--another pause--"i also charged him to keep lookout for a signal to bring the galley to the landing; in the day, the signal would be a blue handkerchief waved; at night, a lantern swung four times thus"--he gave the illustration. "now to the purpose of all this. give heed. i may wish to go aboard to-night, but at what hour i cannot tell. in preparation, however, you will get the porters who took me to the palace to-day, and have them take the boxes and gurglet of which i have been speaking to st. peter's gate. you will go with them, make the signal to the captain, and see they are safely shipped. the other servants will accompany you. you understand?" syama nodded. "attend further. when the goods are on the galley, you will stay and guard them. all the other property you will leave in the house here just as it is. you are certain you comprehend?" "yes." "then set about the work at once. everything must be on the ship before dark." the master offered his hand, and the slave kissed it, and went softly out. immediately that he was alone, the prince ascended to the roof. he stood by the table a moment, giving a thought to the many times his gul bahar had kept watch on the stars for him. they would come and go regularly as of old, but she?--he shook with sudden passion, and walked around taking what might have answered for last looks at familiar landmarks in the wide environment--at the old church near by and the small section of blacherne in the west, the heights of galata and the shapely tower northwardly, the fainter glimpses of scutari in the east. then he looked to the southwest where, under a vast expanse of sky, he knew the marmora was lying asleep; and at once his face brightened. in that quarter a bank of lead-colored clouds stretched far along the horizon, sending rifts lighter hued upward like a fan opening toward the zenith. he raised his hand, and held it palm thitherward, and smiled at feeling a breath of air. somehow the cloud associated itself with the purpose of which he was dreaming, for he said audibly, his eyes fiercely lighted: "o god, the proud are risen against me, and the assemblies of violent men have sought after my soul, and have not set thee before them. but now hast thou thy hand under my head; now the wind cometh, and their punishment; and it is for me to scourge them." he lingered on the roof, walking sometimes, but for the most part seated. the cloud in the southwest seemed the great attraction. assured it was still coming, he would drop awhile into deep thought. if there were calls at the street door, he did not hear them. at length the sun, going down, was met and covered out of sight by the curtain beyond the marmora. about the same time a wave of cold february air rolled into the city, and to escape it he went below. the silence there was observable; for now syama had finished, and the house was deserted. through the rooms upper and lower he stalked gloomy and restless, pausing now and then to listen to a sufflation noisier and more portentous than its predecessors; and the moans with which the intermittent blast turned the corners and occasionally surged through the windows he received smilingly, much as hospitable men welcome friends, or as conspirators greet each other; and often as they recurred, he replied to them in the sonorous words of the psalm, and the refrain, "now the wind cometh, and the punishment." when night was fallen, he crossed the street to uel's. after the first greeting, the conversation between the two was remarkable chiefly for its lapses. it is always so with persons who have a sorrow in common--the pleasure is in their society, not in exchange of words. in one thing the brethren were agreed--lael was lost. by and by the prince concluded it time for him to depart. there was a lamp burning above the table; he went to it, and called uel; and when he was come, the elder drew out a sealed purse, saying: "our pretty gul bahar may yet be found. the methods of the lord we believe in are past finding out. if it should be that i am not in the city when she is brought home, i would not she should have cause to say i ceased thinking of her with a love equal to yours--a father's love. wherefore, o son of jahdai, i give you this. it is full of jewels, each a fortune in itself. if she comes, they are hers; if a year passes, and she is not found, they are yours to keep, give or sell, as you please. you have furnished me happiness which this sorrow is not strong enough to efface. i will not pay you, for acceptance in such kind were shameful to you as the offer would be to me; yet if she comes not in the year, break the seal. we sometimes wear rings in help of pleasant memories." "is your going so certain?" uel asked. "o my youngest brother, i am a traveller even as you are a merchant, with the difference, i have no home. so the lord be with you. farewell." then they kissed each other tenderly. "will i not hear from you?" uel inquired. "ah, thank you," and the wanderer returned to him and said, as if to show who was first in his very farewell thought: "thank you for the reminder. if peradventure you too should be gone when she is found, she will then be in want of a home. provide against that; for she is such a sweet stranger to the world." "tell me how, and i will keep your wish as it were part of the law." "there is a woman in byzantium worthy to have good follow her name whenever it is spoken or written." "give me her name, my lord." "the princess irene." "but she is a christian!" uel spoke in surprise. "yes, son of jahdai, she is a christian. nevertheless send lael to her. again i leave you where i rest myself--with god--our god." thereupon he went out finally, and between gusts of wind regained his own house. he stopped on entering, and barred the door behind him; then he groped his way to the kitchen, and taking a lamp from its place, raked together the embers smothering in a brazier habitually kept for retention of fire, and lighted the lamp. he next broke up some stools and small tables, and with the pieces made a pile under the grand stairway to the second floor, muttering as he worked: "the proud are risen against me; and now the wind cometh, and punishment." once more he walked through the rooms, and ascended to the roof. there, just as he cleared the door, as if it were saluting him, and determined to give him a trial of its force, a blast leaped upon him, like an embodiment out of the cloud in full possession of both world and sky, and started his gown astream, and twisting his hair and beard into lashes whipped his eyes and ears with them, and howled, and snatched his breath nearly out of his mouth. wind it was, and darkness somewhat like that egypt knew what time the deliverer, with god behind him, was trying strength with the king's sorcerers--wind and darkness, but not a drop of rain. he grasped the door-post, and listened to the crashing of heavy things on the neighboring roofs, and the rattle of light things for the finding of which loose here and there the gust of a storm may be trusted where eyes are useless. and noticing that obstructions served merely to break the flying forces into eddies, he laughed and shouted by turns so the inmates of the houses near might have heard had they been out as he was instead of cowering in their beds: "the proud are risen against me, and the assembly of violent men have sought after my soul; and now--ha, ha, ha!--the wind cometh and the punishment!" availing himself of a respite in the blowing, he ran across the roof and looked over into the street, and seeing nothing, neither light nor living thing, he repeated the refrain with a slight variation: "and the wind--ha, ha!--the wind _is_ come, and the punishment!"--then he fled back, and down from the roof. and now the purpose in reserve must have revelation. the grand staircase sprang from the floor open beneath like a bridge. passing under it, he set the lamp against the heap of kindling there, and the smell of scorching wood spread abroad, followed by smoke and the crackle and snap of wood beginning to burn. it was not long until the flames, gathering life and strength, were beyond him to stay or extinguish them, had he been taken with sudden repentance. from step to step they leaped, the room meantime filling fast with suffocating gases. when he knew they were beyond the efforts of any and all whom they might attract, and must burst into conflagration the instant they reached the lightest of the gusts playing havoc outside, he went down on his hands and knees, for else it had been difficult for him to breathe, and crawled to the door. drawing himself up there, he undid the bar, and edged through into the street; nor was there a soul to see the puff of smoke and murky gleam which passed out with him. his spirit was too drunken with glee to trouble itself with precautions now; yet he stopped long enough to repeat the refrain, with a hideous spasm of laughter: "and now--ha, ha!--the wind _is_ come, and the fire, and the punishment." then he wrapped his gown closer about his form bending to meet the gale, and went leisurely down the street, intending to make st. peter's gate. where the intersections left openings, the jew, now a fugitive rather than a wanderer--a fugitive nevertheless who knew perfectly where he was going, and that welcome awaited him there--halted to scan the cloudy floor of the sky above the site of the house he had just abandoned. a redness flickering and unsteady over in that quarter was the first assurance he had of the growth of the flame of small beginning under the grand staircase. "now the meeting of wind and fire!--now speedily these hypocrites and tongue-servers, bastards of byzantium, shall know israel has a god in whom they have no lot, and in what regard he holds conniving at the rape of his daughters. blow, wind, blow harder! rise, fire, and spread--be a thousand lions in roaring till these tremble like hunted curs! the few innocent are not more in the account than moths burrowed in woven wool and feeding on its fineness. already the guilty begin to pray--but to whom? blow, o wind! spread and spare not, o fire!" thus he exulted; and as if it heard him and were making answer to his imprecations, a column, pinked by the liberated fire below it, a burst of sparks in its core, shot up in sudden vastness like a titan rushing to seizure of the world; but presently the gale struck and toppled it over toward blacherne in the northwest. "that way points the punishment? i remember i offered him god and peace and good-will to men, and he rejected them. blow, winds! now are ye but breezes from the south, spice-laden to me, but in his ears be as chariots descending. and thou, o fire! forget not the justice to be done, and whose servant thou art. leave heaven to say which is guiltier; they who work at the deflowerment of the innocent, or he who answers no to the everlasting offering him love. unto him be thou as banners above the chariots!" now a noise began--at first faint and uncertain, then, as the red column sprang up, it strengthened, and ere long defined itself--fire, fire! it seemed the city awoke with that cry. and there was peering from windows, opening of doors, rushing from houses, and hurrying to where the angry spot on the floor of the cloud which shut heaven off was widening and deepening. in a space incredibly quick, the streets--those leading to the corner occupied by the jew as well--became rivulets flowing with people, and then blatant rivers. "my god, what a night for a fire!" "there will be nothing left of us by morning, not even ashes." "and the women and children--think of them!" "fire--fire--fire!" exchanges like these dinned the jew until, finding himself an obstruction, he moved on. not a phase of the awful excitement escaped him--the racing of men--half-clad women assembling--children staring wild-eyed at the smoke extending luridly across the fifth and sixth hills to the seventh--white faces, exclamations, and not seldom resort to crucifixes and prayers to the blessed lady of blacherne--he heard and saw them all--yet kept on toward st. peter's gate, now an easy thing, since the thoroughfares were so aglow he could neither stumble nor miss the right one. a company of soldiers running nearly knocked him down; but finally he reached the portal, and passed out without challenge. a brief search then for his galley; and going aboard, after replying to a few questions about the fire, he bade the captain cast off, and run for the bosphorus. "it looks as if the city would all go," he said; and the mariner, thinking him afraid, summoned his oarsmen, and to please him made haste, as he too well might, for the light of the burning projected over the wall, and, flung back from the cloud overhead far as the eye could penetrate, illuminated the harbor as it did the streets, bringing the ships to view, their crews on deck, and galata, wall, housetops and tower, crowded with people awestruck by the immensity of the calamity. when the galley outgoing cleared point serail, the wind and the long swells beating in from the marmora white with foam struck it with such force that keeping firm grip of their oars was hard for the rowers, and they began to cry out; whereupon the captain sought his passenger. "my lord," he said, "i have plied these waters from boyhood, and never saw them in a night like this. let me return to the harbor." "what, is it not light enough?" the sailor crossed himself, and replied: "there is light enough--such as it is!" and he shuddered. "but the wind, and the running sea, my lord"-- "oh! for them, keep on. under the mountain height of scutari the sailing will be plain." and with much wonder how one so afraid of fire could be so indifferent to danger from flood and gale, the captain addressed himself to manoeuvring his vessel. "now," said the jew, when at last they were well in under the asiatic shore--"now bear away up the bosphorus." the light kept following him the hour and more required to make the sweet waters and the white castle; and even there the reflection from the cloud above the ill-fated city was strong enough to cast half the stream in shadow from the sycamores lining its left bank. the governor of the castle received the friend of his master, the new sultan, at the landing; and from the wall just before retiring, the latter took a last look at the signs down where the ancient capital was struggling against annihilation. glutted with imaginings of all that was transpiring there, he clapped his hands, and repeated the refrain in its past form: "now have the winds come, and the fire, and the punishment. so be it ever unto all who encourage violence to children, and reject god." an hour afterwards, he was asleep peacefully as if there were no such thing as conscience, or a misery like remorse. * * * * * shortly after midnight an officer of the guard ventured to approach the couch of the emperor constantine; in his great excitement he even shook the sacred person. "awake, your majesty, awake, and save the city. it is a sea of fire." constantine was quickly attired, and went first to the top of the tower of isaac. he was filled with horror by what he beheld; but he had soldierly qualities--amongst others the faculty of keeping a clear head in crises. he saw the conflagration was taking direction with the wind and coming straight toward blacherne, where, for want of aliment, it needs must stop. everything in its line of progress was doomed; but he decided it possible to prevent extension right and left of that line, and acting promptly, he brought the entire military force from the barracks to cooperate with the people. the strategy was successful. gazing from the pinnacle as the sun rose, he easily traced a blackened swath cut from the fifth hill up to the eastward wall of the imperial grounds; and, in proof of the fury of the gale, the terraces of the garden were covered inches deep with ashes and scoriac-looking flakes of what at sunset had been happy homes. and the dead? ascertainment of the many who perished was never had; neither did closest inquiry discover the origin of the fire. the volume of iniquities awaiting exposure judgment day must be immeasurable, if it is of the book material in favor among mortals. the prince of india was supposed to have been one of the victims of the fire, and not a little sympathy was expended for the mysterious foreigner. but in refuge at the white castle, that worthy greedily devoured the intelligence he had the governor send for next day. one piece of news, however, did more than dash the satisfaction he secretly indulged--uel, the son of jahdai, was dead--and dead of injuries suffered the night of the catastrophe. a horrible foreboding struck the grim incendiary. was the old destiny still pursuing him? was it still a part of the judgment that every human being who had to do with him in love, friendship or business, every one on whom he looked in favor, must be overtaken soon or late with a doom of some kind? from that moment, moved by an inscrutable prompting of spirit, he began a list of those thus unfortunate--lael first, then uel. who next? the reader will remember the merchant's house was opposite the prince's, with a street between them. unfortunately the street was narrow; the heat from one building beat across it and attacked the other. uel managed to get out safely; but recollecting the jewels intrusted to him for lael, he rushed back to recover them. staggering out again blind and roasting, he fell on the pave, and was carried off, but with the purse intact. next day he succumbed to the injuries. in his last hour, he dictated a letter to the princess irene, begging her to accept the guardianship of his daughter, if god willed her return. such, he said, was his wish, and the prince of india's; and with the missive, he forwarded the jewels, and a statement of the property he was leaving in the market. they and all his were for the child--so the disposition ran, concluding with a paragraph remarkable for the confidence it manifested in the christian trustee. "but if she is not returned alive within a year from this date, then, o excellent princess, i pray you to be my heir, holding everything of mine yours unconditionally. and may god keep you!" chapter xxiii sergius and nilo take up the hunt we have seen the result of sergius' interview with the prince of india, and remember that it was yet early in the morning after lael's disappearance when, in company with nilo, he bade the eccentric stranger adieu, and set forth to try his theory respecting the lost girl. about noon he appeared southwest of the hippodrome in the street leading past the cistern-keeper's abode. nilo, by arrangement, followed at a distance, keeping him in sight. by his side there was a fruit peddler, one of the every-day class whose successors are banes of life to all with whom in the modern byzantium a morning nap is the sweetest preparation for the day. the peddler carried a huge basket strapped to his forehead. he was also equipped with a wooden platter for the display of samples of his stock; and it must be said the medlars, oranges, figs of smyrna, and the luscious green grapes in enormous clusters freshly plucked in the vineyards on the asiatic shore over against the isles of the princes, were very tempting; especially so as the hour was when the whole world acknowledges the utility of lunching as a stay for dinner. it is not necessary to give the conversation between the man of fruits and the young russian. the former was endeavoring to sell. presently they reached a point from which the cistern-keeper was visible, seated, as usual, just within the door pommelling the pavement. sergius stopped there, and affected to examine his companion's stock; then, as if of a mind, he said: "oh, well! let us cross the street, and if the man yonder will give me a room in which i can eat to my content, i will buy of you. let us try him." the two made their way to the door. "good day, my friend," sergius said, to the keeper, who recognized him, and rising, returned the salutation pleasantly enough. "you were here yesterday," he said, "i am glad to see you again. come in." "thank you," sergius returned. "i am hungry, and should like some of this man's store; but it is uncomfortable eating in the street; so i thought you might not be offended if i asked a room for the purpose; particularly as i give you a hearty invitation to share the repast with me." in support of the request the peddler held the platter to the keeper. the argument was good, and straightway, assuming the air of a connoisseur, the master of the house squeezed a medlar, and raising an orange to his nose smelt it, calculated its weight, and answered: "why, yes--come right along to my sitting-room. i will get some knives; and when we are through, we will have a bowl of water, and a napkin. things are not inviting out here as they might be." "and the peddler?" sergius inquired. "bring him along. we will make him show us the bottom of his basket. i believe you said you are a stranger?" sergius nodded. "well, i am not," the keeper continued, complacently. "i know these fellows. they all have tricks. bring him in. i have no family. i live alone." the monk acknowledged the invitation, but pausing to allow the peddler to enter first, he at the same time lifted his hat as if to readjust it; then a moment was taken to make a roll of the long fair hair, and tuck it securely under the hat. that finished, he stepped into the passage, and pursued after his host through a door on the left hand; whereupon the passage to the court was clear. now the play with the hat was a signal to nilo. rendered into words, it would have run thus: "the keeper is employed, and the way open. come!" and the king, on the lookout, answered by sauntering slowly down, mindful if he hurried he might be followed, there being a number of persons in the vicinity. at the door, he took time to examine the front of the house; then he, too, stepped into the passage and through it, and out into the court, where, with a glance, he took everything in--paved area, the curbing about the stairway to the water, the faces of the three sides of the square opposite that of the entrance, all unbroken by door, window, or panel, the sedan in the corner, the two poles lashed together and on end by the sedan. he looked behind him--the passage was yet clear--if seen coming in, he was not pursued. there was a smile on his shining black face; and his teeth, serrated along the edges after the military fashion in kash-cush, displayed themselves white as dressed coral. evidently he was pleased and confident. next he went to the curb, shot a quick look down the steps far as could be seen; thence he crossed to the sedan, surveyed its exterior, and opened the door. the interior appearing in good order, he entered and sat down, and closing the door, arranged the curtain in front, drew it slightly aside and peeped out, now to the door admitting from the passage, then to the curbing. both were perfectly under view. when the king issued from the chair, his smile was broader than before, and his teeth seemed to have received a fresh enamelling. without pausing again, he proceeded to the opening of the cistern, and with his hands on the curbing right and left, let himself lightly down on the four stones of the first landing; a moment, and he began descent of the steps, taking time to inspect everything discernible in the shadowy space. at length he stood on the lower platform. he was now in serious mood. the white pillars were wondrous vast, and the darkness--it may be doubted if night in its natural aspects is more impressive to the savage than the enlightened man; yet it is certain the former will take alarm quicker when shut in by walls of artful contrivance. his imagination then peoples the darkness with spirits, and what is most strange, the spirits are always unfriendly. to say now that nilo, standing on the lower platform, was wholly unmoved, would be to deny him the sensibilities without which there can be none of the effects usually incident to courage and cowardice. the vastness of the receptacle stupefied him. the silence was a curtain he could feel; the water, deep and dark, looked so suggestive of death that the superstitious soul required a little time to be itself again. but relief came, and he watched intently to see if there was a current in the black pool; he could discover none; then, having gained all the information he could, he ascended the steps and lifted himself out into the court. a glance through the passage--another at the sky--and he entered the sedan, and shut himself in. the discussion of the fruit in the keeper's sitting-room meantime was interesting to the parties engaged in it. with excellent understanding of nilo's occupation in the court, sergius exerted himself to detain his host--if the term be acceptable--long as possible. fortunately no visitors came. settling the score, and leaving a profusion of thanks behind him, he at length made his farewell, and spent the remainder of the afternoon on a bench in the hippodrome. occasionally he went back to the street conducting to the cistern, and walked down it far enough to get a view of the keeper still at the door. in the evening he ate at a confectionery near by, prolonging the meal till near dusk, and thence, business being suspended, he idled along the same thoroughfare in a manner to avoid attracting attention. still later, he found a seat in the recess of an unused doorway nearly in front of the house of such interest to him. the manoeuvres thus detailed advise the reader somewhat of the particulars of the programme in execution by the monk and nilo; nor that only--they notify him of the arrival of a very interesting part of the arrangement. in short, it is time to say that, one in the recess of the door, the other shut up in the sedan, they are both on the lookout for demedes. would he come? and when? anticipating a little, we may remark, if he comes, and goes into the cistern, nilo is to open the street door and admit sergius, who is then to take control of the after operations. a little before sunset the keeper shut his front door. sergius heard the iron bolt shoot into the mortice. he believed demedes had not seen lael since the abduction, and that he would not try to see her while the excitement was up and the hunt going forward. but now the city was settled back into quiet--now, if she were indeed in the cistern, he would come, the night being in his favor. and further, if he merely appeared at the house, the circumstance would be strongly corroborative of the monk's theory; if he did more--if he actually entered the cistern, there would be an end of doubt, and nilo could keep him there, while sergius was bringing the authorities to the scene. such was the scheme; and he who looks at it with proper understanding must perceive it did not contemplate unnecessary violence. on this score, indeed, the prince of india's significant reminder that he had found nilo a savage, had led sergius to redoubled care in his instructions. the first development in the affair took place under the king's eye. waiting in ambush was by no means new to him. he was not in the least troubled by impatience. to be sure, he would have felt more comfortable with a piece of bread and a cup of water; yet deprivations of the kind were within the expectations; and while there was a hope of good issue for the enterprise, he could endure them indefinitely. the charge given him pertained particularly to demedes. no fear of his not recognizing the greek. had he not enjoyed the delight of holding him out over the wall to be dropped to death? he was eager, but not impatient. his chief dependence was in the sense of feeling, which had been cultivated so the slightest vibration along the ground served him in lieu of hearing. the closing of the front door by the keeper--felt, not heard--apprised him the day was over. not long afterward the pavement was again jarred, bringing a return of the sensations he used to have when, stalking lions in kash-cush, he felt the earth thrill under the galloping of the camelopards stampeded. he drew the curtain aside slightly, just as a man stepped into the court from the passage. the person carried a lighted lamp, and was not demedes. the cistern-keeper--for he it was--went to the curbing slowly, for the advance airs of the gale were threatening his lamp, and dropped dextrously through the aperture to the upper landing. in ambush the king never admitted anything like curiosity. presently he felt the pavement again jar. nobody appeared at the passage. another tremor more decided--then the king stepped softly from the sedan, and stealing barefooted to the curbing looked down the yawning hole. the lamp on the platform enabled him to see a boat drawn up to the lower step, and the stranger in the act of stepping into it. then the lamp was shifted to the bow of the boat--oars taken in hand--a push off, and swift evanishment. we, with our better information of the devices employed, know what a simple trick it was on the keeper's part to bring the vessel to him--he had but to pull the right string in the right direction--but nilo was left to his astonishment. stealing back to his cover, he drew the door to, and struggled with the mystery. afterwhile, the mist dissipated, and a fact arose plainer to him than the mighty hand on his knee. the cistern was inhabited--some person was down there to be communicated with. what should the king do now? the quandary was trying. finally he concluded to stay where he was. the stranger might bring somebody back with him--possibly the lost child--such lael was in his thoughts of her. afterwhile--he had no idea of time--he felt a shake run along the pavement, and saw the stranger appear coming up the steps, lamp in hand. next instant the person crawled out of the curbing, and went into the house through the passage doorway. the king never took eye from the curbing--nobody followed after--the secret of the old reservatory was yet a secret. again nilo debated whether to bring sergius in, and again he decided to stay where he was. meantime the cloud which the prince of india had descried from the roof of his house arrived on the wings of the gale. ere long sergius was shivering in the recess of the door. for relief he counted the beads of his rosary, and there was scarcely a saint in the calendar omitted from his recitals. if there was potency in prayers the angels were in the cistern ministering to lael. the street became deserted. everything living which had a refuge sought it; yet the gale increased: it howled and sang dirges; it started the innumerable loose trifles in its way to waltzing over the bowlders; every hinged fixture on the exposed house-fronts creaked and banged. only a lover would voluntarily endure the outdoors of such a night--a lover or a villain unusually bold. near midnight--so sergius judged--a dull redness began to tinge the cloud overhead, and brightening rapidly, it ere long cast a strong reflection downward. at first he was grateful for the light; afterwhile, however, he detected an uproar distinguishable from the wind; it had no rest or lulls, and in its rise became more and more a human tone. when shortly people rushed past his cover crying fire, he comprehended what it was. the illumination intensified. the whole city seemed in danger. there were women and children exposed; yet here he was waiting on a mere hope; there he could do something. why not go? while he debated, down the street from the direction of the hippodrome he beheld a man coming fast despite the strength of the gusts. a cloak wrapped him from head to foot, somewhat after the fashion of a toga, and the face was buried in its folds; yet the air and manner suggested demedes. instantly the watcher quit arguing; and forgetful of the fire, and of the city in danger, he shrank closer into the recess. the thoroughfare was wider than common, and the person approaching on the side opposite sergius; when nearer, his low stature was observable. would he stop at the cistern-keeper's? now he was at the door! the russian's heart was in his mouth. right in front of the door the man halted and knocked. the sound was so sharp a stone must have been used. immediately the bolt inside was drawn, and the visitor passed in. was it demedes? the monk breathed again--he believed it was--anyhow the king would determine the question, and there was nothing to do meantime but bide the event. the sedan, it hardly requires saying, was a much more comfortable ambush than the recess of the door. nilo merely felt the shaking the gale now and then gave the house. so, too, he bade welcome to the glare in the sky for the flushing it transmitted to the court. only a wraith could have come from or gone into the cistern unseen by him. the clapping to of the front door on the street was not lost to the king. presently the person he had seen in the boat at the foot of the steps again issued from the passage, lamp in hand as before; but as he kept looking back deferentially, a gust leaped down, and extinguished the flame, compelling him to return; whereupon another man stepped out into the court, halting immediately. nilo opened a little wider the gap in the curtain through which he was peeping. it may be well to say here that the newcomer thus unwittingly exposing himself to observation was the same individual sergius had seen admitted into the house. the keeper had taken him to a room for the rearrangement of his attire. standing forth in the light now filling the court, he was still wrapped in the cloak, all except the head, which was jauntily covered with a white cap, in style not unlike a scotch bonnet, garnished with two long red ostrich feathers held in place by a brooch that shot forth gleams of precious stones in artful arrangement. once the man opened the cloak, exposing a vest of fine-linked mail, white with silver washing, and furnished with epaulettes or triangular plates, fitted gracefully to the shoulders. a ruff, which was but the complement of a cape of heavy lace, clothed the neck. to call the feeling which now shot through the king's every fibre a sudden pleasure would scarcely be a sufficient description; it was rather the delight with which soldiers old in war acknowledge the presence of their foemen. in other words, the brave black recognized demedes, and was strong minded enough to understand and appreciate the circumstances under which the discovery was made. if the savage arose in him, it should be remembered he was there to revenge a master's wrongs quite as much as to rescue a stolen girl. moreover, the education he had received from his master was not in the direction of mercy to enemies. the two--demedes and the keeper--lost no time in entering the cistern, the latter going first. when the king thought they had reached the lower platform, he issued from the chair barefooted, and bending over the curbing beheld what went on below. the greek was holding the lamp. the occupation of his assistant was beyond comprehension until the boat moved slowly into view. demedes then set the lamp down, divested himself of his heavy wrap, and taking the rower's seat, unshipped the oars. there was a brief conference; at the conclusion the subordinate joined his chief; whereupon the boat pushed off. thus far the affair was singularly in the line of sergius' anticipations; and now to call him in! there is little room for doubt that nilo was in perfect recollection of the instructions he had received, and that his first intention was to obey them; for, standing by the curbing long enough to be assured the greek was indeed in the gloomy cavern, whence escape was impossible except by some unknown exit, he walked slowly away, and was in the passage door when, looking back, he saw the keeper leaping out into the court. to say truth, the king had witnessed the departure of the boat with misgivings. catching the robbers was then easy; yet rescue of the girl was a different thing. what might they not do with her in the meantime? as he understood his master, her safety was even more in purpose than their seizure; wherefore his impulse was to keep them in sight without reference to sergius. he could swim--yes, but the water was cold, and the darkness terrible to his imagination. it might be hours before he found the hiding-place of the thieves--indeed, he might never overtake them. his regret when he stepped into the passage was mighty; it enables us, however, to comprehend the rush of impetuous joy which now took possession of him. a step to the right, and he was behind the cheek of the door. all unsuspicious of danger, the keeper came on; a few minutes, and he would be in bed and asleep, so easy was he in conscience. the ancient cistern had many secrets. what did another one matter? his foot was on the lintel--he heard a rustle close at his side--before he could dart back--ere he could look or scream, two powerful hands were around his throat. he was not devoid of courage or strength, and resisted, struggling for breath. he merely succeeded in drawing his assailant out into the light far enough to get a glimpse of a giant and a face black and horrible to behold. a goblin from the cistern! and with this idea, he quit fighting, and sank to the floor. nilo kept his grip needlessly--the fellow was dead of terror. here was a contingency not provided for in the arrangement sergius had laid out with such care. and what now? it was for the king to answer. he dragged the victim out in the court, and set a foot on his throat. all the savage in him was awake, and his thoughts pursued demedes. hungering for that life more than this one, he forgot the monk utterly. had he a plank--anything in the least serviceable as a float--he would go after the master. he looked the enclosure over, and the sedan caught his eye, its door ajar. the door would suffice. he took hold of the limp body of the keeper, drew it after him, set it on the seat, and was about wrenching the door away, when he saw the poles. they were twelve or fourteen feet long and lashed together. on rafts not half so good he had in kash-cush crossed swollen streams, paddling with his hands. to take them to the cistern--to descend the steps with them--to launch himself on them--to push out into the darkness, were as one act, so swiftly were they accomplished. and going he knew not whither, but scorning the thought of another man betaking himself where he dared not, sustained by a feeling that he was in pursuit, and would have the advantage of a surprise when at last he overtook the enemy, we must leave the king awhile in order to bring up a dropped thread of our story. chapter xxiv the imperial cistern gives up its secret the reader will return--not unwillingly, it is hoped--to lael. the keeper, on watch for her, made haste to bar the door behind the carriers of the sedan, who, on their part, made greater haste to take boat and fly the city. from his sitting-room he brought a lamp, and opening the chair found the passenger in a corner to appearance dead. the head was hanging low; through the dishevelled hair the slightest margin of forehead shone marble white; a scarce perceptible rise and fall of the girlish bosom testified of the life still there. a woman at mercy, though dumb, is always eloquent. "here she is at last!" the keeper thought, while making a profane survey of the victim.... "well, if beauty was his object--beauty without love--he may be satisfied. that's as the man is. i would rather have the bezants she has cost him. the market's full of just such beauty in health and strength--beauty matured and alive, not wilted like this! ... but every fish to its net, every man to his fate, as the infidels on the other shore say. to the cistern she must go, and i must put her there. oh, how lucky! her wits are out--prayers, tears, resistance would be uncomfortable. may the saints keep her!" closing the door of the sedan, he hurried out into the court, and thence down the cistern stairs to the lower platform, where he drew the boat in, and fixed it stationary by laying the oars across the gunwale from a step. the going and return were quick. "the blood of doves, or the tears of women--i am not yet decided which is hardest on a soul.... come along!... there is a palace at the further end of the road."... he lifted her from the chair. in the dead faint she was more an inconvenient burden than a heavy one. at the curbing he sat her down while he returned for the lamp. the steps within were slippery, and he dared take no risks. to get her into the boat was trying: yet he was gentle as possible--that, however, was from regard for the patron he was serving. he laid her head against a seat, and arranged her garments respectfully. "o sweet mother of blacherne!" he then said, looking at the face for the first time fully exposed. "that pin on the shoulder--heavens, how the stone flashes! it invites me." unfastening the trinket, he secured it under his jacket, then ran on: "she is so white! i must hurry--or drop her overboard. if she dies"--his countenance showed concern, but brightened immediately. "oh, of course she jumped overboard to escape!" there was no further delay. with the lamp at the bow, he pushed off, and rowed vigorously. through the pillared space he went, with many quick turns. it were vain saying exactly which direction he took, or how long he was going; after a time, the more considerable on account of the obstructions to be avoided, he reached the raft heretofore described as in the form of a cross and anchored securely between four of the immense columns by which the roof of the cistern was upheld. still lael slept the merciful sleep. next the keeper carried the unresisting body to a door of what in the feeble light seemed a low, one-storied house--possibly hut were a better word--thence into an interior where the blackness may be likened to a blindfold many times multiplied. yet he went to a couch, and laid her upon it. "there--my part is done!" he muttered, with a long-drawn breath.... "now to illuminate the palace! if she were to awake in this pitch-black"--something like a laugh interrupted the speech--"it would strangle her--oil from the press is not thicker." he brought in the light--in such essential midnight it was indispensable, and must needs be always thought of--and amongst the things which began to sparkle was a circlet of furbished metal suspended from the centre of the ceiling. it proved to be a chandelier, provided with a number of lamps ready for lighting; and when they were all lit, the revelation which ensued while a lesson in extravagance was not less a tribute to the good taste of the reckless genius by which it was conceived. it were long reading the inventory of articles he had brought together there for the edification and amusement of such as might become his idols. they were everywhere apparently--books, pictures, musical instruments--on the floor, a carpet to delight a sultana mother--over the walls, arras of silk and gold in alternate threads--the ceiling an elaboration of wooden panels. by referring to the diagram of the raft, it will be seen one quarter was reserved for a landing, while the others supported what may be termed pavilions, leaving an interior susceptible of division into three rooms. standing under the circlet of light, an inmate could see into the three open quarters, each designed and furnished for a special use; this at the right hand, for eating and drinking; that at the left, for sleeping; the third, opposite the door, for lounging and reading. in the first one, a table already set glittered with ware in glass and precious metals; in the second, a mass of pink plush and fairy-like lace bespoke a bed; in the third were chairs, a lounge, and footrests which had the appearance of having been brought from a ptolemaic palace only yesterday; and on these, strewn with an eye to artistic effect, lay fans and shawls for which the harem-queens of persia and hindostan might have contended. the "crown-jewel" of this latter apartment, however, was undoubtedly a sheet of copper burnished to answer the purpose of a looking-glass with a full-length view. on stands next the mirror, was a collection of toilet necessaries. elsewhere we have heard of a palace of love lying as yet in the high intent of mahommed; here we have a palace of pleasure illustrative of epicureanism according to demedes. the expense and care required to make it an actuality beget the inference that the float, rough outside, splendid within, was not for lael alone. a princess of india might inaugurate it, but others as fair and highborn were to come after her, recipients of the same worship. whosoever the favorite of the hour might be, the three pavilions were certainly the assigned limits of her being; while the getting rid of her would be never so easy--the water flowing, no one knew whence or whither, was horribly suggestive. once installed there, it was supposed that longings for the upper world would go gradually out. the mistress, with nothing to wish for not at hand, was to be a queen, with demedes and his chosen of the philosophic circle for her ministers. in other words, the academic temple in the upper world was but a place of meeting; this was the temple in fact. there the gentle priests talked business; here they worshipped; and of their psalter and litany, their faith and ceremonial practices, enough that the new substitute for religion was only a reembodiment of an old philosophy with the narrowest psychical idea for creed; namely, that the principle of present life was all there was in man worth culture and gratification. the keeper cared little for the furnishments and curios. he was much more concerned in the restoration of his charge, being curious to see how she would behave on waking. he sprinkled her face with water, and fanned her energetically, using an ostrich wing of the whiteness of snow, overlaid about the handle with scarab-gems. nor did he forget to pray. "o holy mother! o sweet madonna of blacherne! do not let her die. darkness is nothing to thee. thou art clothed in brightness. oh, as thou lovest all thy children, descend hither, and open her eyes, and give her speech!" the man was in earnest. greatly to his delight, he beheld the blood at length redden the pretty mouth, and the eyelids begin to tremble. then a long, deep inhalation, and an uncertain fearful looking about; first at the circlet of the lamps, and next at the keeper, who, as became a pious byzantine, burst into exclamation: "oh holy mother! i owe you a candle!" directly, having risen to a sitting posture, lael found her tongue: "you are not my father uel, or my father the prince of india?" "no," he returned, plying the fan. "where are they? where is sergius?" "i do not know." "who are you?" "i am appointed to see that no harm comes to you." this was intended kindly enough; it had, however, the opposite effect. she arose, and with both hands holding the hair from her eyes, stared wildly at objects in the three rooms, and fell to the couch again insensible. and again the water, the ostrich-wing, and the prayer to the lady of blacherne--again an awakening. "where am i?" she asked. "in the palace of"-- he had not time to finish; with tears, and moans, and wringing of hands she sat up: "oh, my father! oh, that i had heeded him! ... you will take me to him, will you not? he is rich, and loves me, and he will give you gold and jewels until you are rich. only take me to him.... see--i am praying to you!"--and she cast herself at his feet. now the keeper was not used to so much loveliness in great distress, and he moved away; but she tried to follow him on her knees, crying: "oh, as you hope mercy for yourself, take me home!" and beginning to doubt his strength, he affected harshness. "it is useless praying to me. i could not take you out if your father rained gold on me for a month--i could not if i wished to.... be sensible, and listen to me." "then you did not bring me here." "listen to me, i say.... you will get hungry and thirsty--there are bread, fruit, and water and wine--and when you are sleepy, yonder is the bed. use your eyes, and you are certain to find in one room or the other everything you can need; and whatever you put hand on is yours. only be sensible, and quit taking on so. quit praying to me. prayer is for the madonna and the blessed saints. hush and hear. no? well, i am going now." "going?--and without telling me where i am? or why i was brought here? or by whom? oh, my god!" she flung herself on the floor distracted; and he, apparently not minding, went on: "i am going now, but will come back for your orders in the morning, and again in the evening. do not be afraid; it is not intended to hurt you; and if you get tired of yourself, there are books; or if you do not read, maybe you sing--there are musical instruments, and you can choose amongst them. now i grant you i am not a waiting-maid, having had no education in that line; still, if i may advise, wash your face, and dress your hair, and be beautiful as you can, for by and by he will come"-- "who will come?" she asked, rising to her knees, and clasping her hands. the sight was more than enough for him. he fled incontinently, saying: "i will be back in the morning." as he went he snatched up the indispensable lamp; outside, he locked the door; then rowed away, repeating, "oh, the blood of doves and the tears of women!" left thus alone, the unfortunate girl lay on the floor a long time, sobbing, and gradually finding the virtue there is in tears--especially tears of repentance. afterwhile, with the return of reason--meaning power to think--the silence of the place became noticeable. listening closely, she could detect no sign of life--nothing indicative of a street, or a house adjoining, or a neighbor, or that there was any outdoors about her at all. the noise of an insect, the note of a bird, a sough of wind, the gurgle of water, would have relieved her from the sense of having in some way fallen off the earth, and been caught by a far away uninhabited planet. that would certainly have been hard; but worse--the idea of being doomed to stay there took possession of her, and becoming intolerable, she walked from room to room, and even tried to take interest in the things around. will it ever be that a woman can pass a mirror without being arrested by it? before the tall copper plate she finally stopped. at first, the figure she saw startled her. the air of general discomfiture--hair loose, features tear-stained, eyes red and swollen, garments disarranged--made it look like a stranger. the notion exaggerated itself, and further on she found a positive comfort in the society of the image, which not only looked somebody else, but more and more somebody else who was lost like herself, and, being in the same miserable condition, would be happy to exchange sympathy for sympathy. now the spectacle of a person in distress is never pleasant; wherefore permission is begged to dismiss the passage of that night in the cistern briefly as possible. from the couch to the mirror; fearing now, then despairing; one moment calling for help, listening next, her distracted fancy caught by an imaginary sound; too much fevered to care for refreshments; so overwhelmed by the awful sense of being hopelessly and forever lost, she could neither sleep nor control herself mentally. thus tortured, there were no minutes or hours to her, only a time, that being a peculiarity of the strange planet her habitat. to be sure, she explored her prison intent upon escape, but was as often beaten back by walls without window, loophole or skylight--walls in which there was but one door, fastened outside. the day following was to the captive in nothing different from the night--a time divisionless, and filled with fear, suspense, and horrible imaginings--a monotony unbroken by a sound. if she could have heard a bell, though ever so faint, or a voice, to whomsoever addressed, it would yet prove her in an inhabited world--nay, could she but have heard a cricket singing! in the morning the keeper kept his appointment. he came alone and without business except to renew the oil in the lamps. after a careful survey of the palace, as he called it, probably in sarcasm, and as he was about to leave, he offered, if she wanted anything, to bring it upon his return. was there ever prisoner not in want of liberty? the proposal did but reopen the scene of the evening previous; and he fled from it, repeating as before, "oh, the blood of doves and the tears of women!" in the evening he found her more tractable; so at least he thought; and she was in fact quieter from exhaustion. none the less he again fled to escape the entreaties with which she beset him. she took to the couch the second night. the need of nature was too strong for both grief and fear, and she slept. of course she knew not of the hunt going on, or of the difficulties in the way of finding her; and in this ignorance the sensation of being lost gradually yielded to the more poignant idea of desertion. where was sergius? would there ever be a fitter opportunity for display of the superhuman intelligence with which, up to this time, she had invested her father, the prince of india? the stars could tell him everything; so, if now they were silent respecting her, it could only be because he had not consulted them. situations such as she was in are right quarters of the moon for unreasonable fantasies; and she fell asleep oppressed by a conviction that all the friendly planets, even jupiter, for whose appearance she had so often watched with the delight of a lover, were hastening to their houses to tell him where she was, but for some reason he ignored them. still later, she fell into a defiant sullenness, one of the many aspects of despair. in this mood, while lying on the couch, she heard the sound of oars, and almost immediately after felt the floor jar. she sat up, wondering what had brought the keeper back so soon. steps then approached the door; but the lock there proving troublesome, suggested one unaccustomed to it; whereupon she remembered the rude advice to wash her face and dress her hair, for by and by somebody was coming. "now," she thought, "i shall learn who brought me here, and why." a hope returned to her. "oh, it may be my father has at last found me!" she arose--a volume of joy gathered in her heart ready to burst into expression--when the door was pushed open, and demedes entered. we know the figure he thus introduced to her. with averted face he reinserted the key in the lock. she saw the key, heavy enough in emergency for an aggressive weapon--she saw a gloved hand turn it, and heard the bolt plunge obediently into its socket--and the flicker of hope went out. she sunk upon the couch again, sullenly observant. the visitor--at first unrecognized by her--behaved as if at home, and confident of an agreeable reception. having made the door safe on the outside, he next secured it inside, by taking the key out. still averting his face, he went to the mirror, shook the great cloak from his shoulders, and coolly surveyed himself, turning this way and that. he rearranged his cape, took off the cap, and, putting the plumes in better relation, restored it to his head--thrust his gloves on one side under a swordless belt, and the ponderous key under the same belt but on the other side, where it had for company a straight dagger of threatening proportions. lael kept watch on these movements, doubtful if the stranger were aware of her presence. uncertainty on that score was presently removed. turning from the mirror, he advanced slowly toward her. when under the circlet, just at the point where the light was most favorable for an exhibition of himself, he stopped, doffed the cap, and said to her: "the daughter of the prince of india cannot have forgotten me." now if, from something said in this chronicle, the reader has been led to exalt the little jewess into a bradamante, it were just to undeceive him. she was a woman in promise, of fair intellect subordinate to a pure heart. any great thing said or done by her would be certain to have its origin in her affections. the circumstances in which she would be other than simple and unaffected are inconceivable. in the beautiful armor, demedes was handsome, particularly as there was no other man near to force a comparison of stature; yet she did not see any of his braveries--she saw his face alone, and with what feeling may be inferred from the fact that she now knew who brought her where she was, and the purpose of the bringing. instead of replying, she shrank visibly further and further from him, until she was an apt reminder of a hare cornered by a hound, or a dove at last overtaken by a hawk. the suffering she had undergone was discernible in her appearance, for she had not taken the advice of the keeper; in a word, she was at the moment shockingly unlike the lissome, happy, radiant creature whom we saw set out for a promenade two days before. her posture was crouching; the hair was falling all ways; both hands pressed hard upon her bosom; and the eyes were in fixed gaze, staring at him as at death. she was in the last extremity of fear, and he could not but see it. "do not be afraid," he said, hurriedly, and in a tone of pity. "you were never safer than you are here--i swear it, o princess!" observing no change in her or indication of reply, he continued: "i see your fear, and it may be i am its object. let me come and sit by you, and i will explain everything--where you are--why you were brought here--and by whom.... or give me a place at your feet.... i will not speak for myself, except as i love you--nay, i will speak for love." still not a word from her--only a sullenness in which he fancied there was a threat.... a threat? what could she do? to him, nothing; he was in shirt of steel; but to herself much.... and he thought of suicide, and then of--madness. "tell me, o princess, if you have received any disrespect since you entered this palace? there is but one person from whom it could have proceeded. i know him; and if, against his solemn oath, he has dared an unseemly look or word--if he has touched you profanely--you may choose the dog's death he shall die, and i will give it him. for that i wear this dagger. see!" in this he was sincere; yet he shall be a student very recently come to lessons in human nature who fails to perceive the reason of his sincerity; possibly she saw it; we speak with uncertainty, for she still kept silent. again he cast about to make her speak. reproach, abuse, rage, tears in torrents, fury in any form were preferable to that look, so like an animal's conscious of its last moment. "must i talk to you from this distance? i can, as you see, but it is cruel; and if you fear me"--he smiled, as if the idea were amusing. "oh! if you still fear me, what is there to prevent my compelling the favors i beg?" the menace was of no more effect than entreaty. paralysis of spirit from fright was new to him; yet the resources of his wit were without end. going to the table, he looked it over carefully. "what!" he cried, turning to her with well-dissembled astonishment. "hast thou eaten nothing? two days, and not a crumb of bread in thy pretty throat?--not a drop of wine? this shall not go on--no, by all the goodness there is in heaven!" on a plate he then placed a biscuit and a goblet filled with red wine of the clearest sparkle, and taking them to her, knelt at her feet. "i will tell you truly, princess--i built this palace for you, and brought you here under urgency of love. god deny me forever, if i once dreamed of starving you! eat and drink, if only to give me ease of conscience." he offered the plate to her. she arose, her face, if possible, whiter than before. "do not come near me--keep off!" her voice was sharp and high. "keep off!... or take me to my father's house. this palace is yours--you have the key. oh, be merciful!" madness was very near her. "i will obey you in all things but one," he said, and returned the plate to the table, content with having brought her to speech. "in all things but one," he repeated peremptorily, standing under the circlet. "i will not take you to your father's house. i brought you here to teach you what i would never have a chance to teach you there--that you are the idol for whom i have dared every earthly risk, and imperilled my soul.... sit down and rest yourself. i will not come near you to-night, nor ever without your consent.... yes, that is well. and now you are seated, and have shown a little faith in my word--for which i thank you and kiss your hand--hear me further and be reasonable.... you shall love me." into this declaration he flung all the passion of his nature. "no, no! draw not away believing yourself in peril. you shall love me, but not as a scourged victim. i am not a brute. i may be won too lightly, by a voice, by bright eyes, by graces of person, by faithfulness where faithfulness is owing, by a soul created for love and aglow with it as a star with light; but i am not of those who kill the beloved, and justify the deed, pleading coldness, scorn, preference for another. be reasonable, i say, o princess, and hear how i will conquer you.... are not the better years of life ours? why should i struggle or make haste, or be impatient? are you not where i have chosen to put you?--where i can visit you day and night to assure myself of your health and spirits?--all in the world, yet out of its sight?... you may not know what a physician time is. i do. he has a medicine for almost every ailment of the mind, every distemper of the soul. he may not set my lady's broken finger, but he will knit it so, when sound again, the hurt shall be forgotten. he drops a month--in extreme cases, a year or years--on a grief, or a bereavement, and it becomes as if it had never been. so he lets the sun in on prejudices and hates, and they wither, and where they were, we go and gather the fruits and flowers of admiration, respect--ay, princess, of love. now, in this cause, i have chosen time for my best friend; he and i will come together, and stay"-- the conclusion of the speech must be left to the reader, for with the last word some weighty solid crashed against the raft until it trembled throughout. demedes stopped. involuntarily his hand sought the dagger; and the action was a confession of surprise. an interval of quiet ensued; then came a trial of the lock--at first, gentle--another, with energy--a third one rattled the strong leaf in its frame. "the villain! i will teach him--no, it cannot be--he would not dare--and besides i have the boat." as demedes thus acquitted the keeper, he cast a serious glance around him, evidently in thought of defence. again the raft was shaken, as if by feet moving rapidly under a heavy burden. crash!--and the door was splintered. once more--crash!--and door and framework shot in--a thunderbolt had not wrought the wreck more completely. justice now to the greek. though a genius all bad, he was manly. retiring to a position in front of lael, he waited, dagger in hand. and he had not breathed twice, before nilo thrust his magnificent person through the breach, and advanced under the circlet. returning now. had the king been in toils, and hard pressed, he would not have committed himself to the flood and darkness of the cistern in the manner narrated; at least the probabilities are he would have preferred battle in the court, and light, though of the city on fire, by which to conquer or die. but his blood was up, and he was in pursuit, not at bay; to the genuine fighting man, moreover, a taste of victory is as a taste of blood to tigers. he was not in humor to bother himself with practical considerations such as--if i come upon the hiding-place of the greek, how, being deaf and dumb, am i to know it? of what use are eyes in a hollow rayless as this? whether he considered the obvious personal dangers of the adventure--drowning, for instance--is another matter. the water was cold, and his teeth chattered; for it will be recollected he was astride the poles of the sedan, lashed together. that his body was half submerged was a circumstance he little heeded, since it was rather helpful than otherwise to the hand strokes with which he propelled himself. nor need it be supposed he moved slowly. the speed attainable by such primitive means in still water is wonderful. going straight from the lower platform of the stair, he was presently in total darkness. with a row of columns on either hand, he managed to keep direction; and how constantly and eagerly he employed the one available sense left him may be imagined. his project was to push on until stayed by a boundary wall--then he would take another course, and so on to the end. the enemy, by his theory, was in a boat or floating house. hopeful, determined, inspirited by the prospect of combat, he made haste as best he could. at last, looking over his left shoulder, he beheld a ruddy illumination, and changed direction thither. presently he swept into the radius of a stationary light, broken, of course, by intervening pillars and the shadows they cast; then, at his right, a hand lamp in front of what had the appearance of a house rising out of the water, startled him. was it a signal? the king approached warily, until satisfied no ambush was intended--until, in short, the palace of the greek was before him. it was his then to surprise; so he drove the ends of the poles against the landing with force sufficient, as we have seen, to interrupt demedes explaining how he meant to compel the love of lael. with all his nicety of contrivance, the greek had at the last moment forgotten to extinguish the lamp or take it into the house with him. the king recognized it and the boat, yet circumspectly drew his humble craft up out of the water. he next tried the lock, and then the door; finally he used the poles as a ram. taking stand under the circlet, there was scant room between it and the blue handkerchief on his head; while the figure he presented, nude to the waist, his black skin glistening with water, his trousers clinging to his limbs, his nostrils dilating, his eyes jets of flame, his cruel white teeth exposed--this figure the dullest fancy can evoke--and it must have appeared to the guilty greek a very genius of vengeance. withal, however, the armor and the dagger brought demedes up to a certain equality; and, as he showed no flinching, the promise of combat was excellent. it happened, however, that while the two silently regarded each other, lael recognized the king, and unable to control herself, gave a cry of joy, and started to him. instinctively demedes extended a hand to hold her back; the giant saw the opening; two steps so nearly simultaneous the movement was like a leap--and he had the wrist of the other's armed hand in his grip. words can convey no idea of the outburst attending the assault--it was the hoarse inarticulate falsetto of a dumb man signalizing a triumph. if the reader can think of a tiger standing over him, its breath on his cheek, its roar in his ears, something approximate to the effect is possible. the greek's cap fell off, and the dagger rattled to the floor. his countenance knit with sudden pain--the terrible grip was crushing the bones--yet he did not submit. with the free hand, he snatched the key from his belt, and swung it to strike--the blow was intercepted--the key wrenched away. then demedes' spirit forsook him--mortal terror showed in his face turned gray as ashes, and in his eyes, enlarged yet ready to burst from their sockets. he had not the gladiator's resignation under judgment of death. "save me, o princess, save me!... he is killing me.... my god--see--hear--he is crushing my bones!... save me!" lael was then behind the king, on her knees, thanking heaven for rescue. she heard the imploration, and, woman-like, sight of the awful agony extinguished the memory of her wrongs. "spare him, nilo, for my sake, spare him!" she cried. it was not alone her wrongs that were forgotten--she forgot that the avenger could not hear. had he heard, it is doubtful if he had obeyed; for we again remark he was fighting less for her than for his master--or rather for her in his master's interest. and besides, it was the moment of victory, when, of all moments, the difference between the man born and reared under christian influences and the savage is most impressible. while she was entreating him, he repeated the indescribable howl, and catching demedes bore him to the door and out of it. at the edge of the landing, he twisted his fingers in the long locks of the screaming wretch, whose boasted philosophy was of so little worth to him now that he never thought of it--then he plunged him in the water, and held him under until--enough, dear reader! lael did not go out. the inevitable was in the negro's face. retreating to the couch, she there covered her ears with her hands, trying to escape the prayers the doomed man persisted to the last in addressing her. by and by nilo returned alone. he took the cloak from the floor, wrapped her in it, and signed her to go with him; but the distresses she had endured, together with the horrors of the scene just finished, left her half fainting. in his arms she was a child. almost before she knew it, he had placed her in the boat. with a cord found in the house, he tied the poles behind the vessel, and set out to find the stairs, the tell-tale lamp twinkling at the bow. safely arrived there, the good fellow carried his fair charge up the steps to the court--descending again, he brought the poles--going back once more, he drew the boat on the lower platform. then to hasten to the street door, unbar it, and admit sergius were scarce a minute's work. the monk's amazement and delight at beholding lael, and hers at sight of him, require no labored telling. at that meeting, conventionalities were not observed. he carried her into the passage, and gave her the keeper's chair; after which, reminded of the programme so carefully laid out by him, he returned with nilo to the court, where the illumination in the sky still dropped its relucent flush. turning the king face to him he asked: "where is the keeper?" the king walked to the sedan, opened the door, and dragging the dead man forth, flung him sprawling on the pavement. sergius stood speechless, seeing what the victor had not--arrests, official inquests, and the dread machinery of the law started, with results not in foresight except by heaven. before he had fairly recovered, nilo had the sedan out and the poles fixed to it, and in the most cheerful, matter-of-fact manner signed him to take up the forward ends. "where is the greek?" the monk asked. that also the king managed to answer. "in the cistern--drowned!" exclaimed sergius, converting the reply into words. the king drew himself up proudly. "o heavens! what will become of us?" the exclamation signified a curtain rising upon a scene of prosecution against which the christian covered his face with his hands.... again nilo brought him back to present duty.... in a short time lael was in the chair, and they bearing her off. sergius set out first for uel's house. the time was near morning; but for the conflagration the indications of dawn might have been seen in the east. he was not long in getting to understand the awfulness of the calamity the city had suffered, and that, with thousands of others, the dwellings of uel and the prince of india were heaps of ashes on which the gale was expending its undiminished strength. what was to be done with lael? this sergius answered by leading the way to the town residence of the princess irene. there the little jewess was received, while he took boat and hurried to therapia. the princess came down, and under her roof, lael found sympathy, rest, and safety. in due time also uel's last testament reached her, with the purse of jewels left by the prince of india, and she then assumed guardianship of the bereaved girl. book v mirza chapter i a cold wind from adrianople it is now the middle of february, . constantine has been emperor a trifle over three years, and proven himself a just man and a conscientious ruler. how great he is remains for demonstration, since nothing has occurred to him--nothing properly a trial of his higher qualities. in one respect the situation of the emperor was peculiar. the highway from gallipoli to adrianople, passing the ancient capital on the south, belonged to the turks, and they used it for every purpose--military, commercial, governmental--used it as undisputedly within their domain, leaving constantine territorially surrounded, and with but one neighbor, the sultan amurath. age had transformed the great moslem; from dreams of conquest, he had descended to dreams of peace in shaded halls and rose-sprent gardens, with singers, story-tellers, and philosophers for companions, and women, cousins of the houris, to carpet the way to paradise; but for george castriot, [footnote: iskander-beg--scanderbeg. _vide_ gibbon's _roman empire._] he had abandoned the cimeter. keeping terms of amity with such a neighbor was easy--the emperor had merely to be himself peaceful. moreover, when john palaeologus died, the succession was disputed by demetrius, a brother to constantine. amurath was chosen arbitrator, and he decided in favor of the latter, placing him under a bond of gratitude. thus secure in his foreign relations, the emperor, on taking the throne, addressed himself to finding a consort; of his efforts in that quest the reader is already informed, leaving it to be remarked that the georgian princess at last selected for him by phranza died while journeying to constantinople. this, however, was business of the emperor's own inauguration, and in point of seriousness could not stand comparison with another affair imposed upon him by inheritance--keeping the religious factions domiciled in the capital from tearing each other to pieces. the latter called for qualities he does not seem to have possessed. he permitted the sectaries to bombard each other with sermons, bulletins and excommunications which, on the ground of scandal to religion, he should have promptly suppressed; his failure to do so led to its inevitable result--the sectaries presently dominated him. now, however, the easy administration of the hitherto fortunate emperor is to vanish; two additional matters of the gravest import are thrust upon him simultaneously, one domestic, the other foreign; and as both of them become turning points in our story, it is advisable to attend to them here. when the reins of government fell from the hands of amurath, they were caught up by mahommed; in other words, mahommed is sultan, and the old regime, with its friendly policies and stately courtesies, is at an end, imposing the necessity for a recast of the relations between the empires. what shall they be? such is the foreign question. obviously, the subject being of vital interest to the greek, it was for him to take the initiative in bringing about the definitions desired. with keen appreciation of the danger of the situation he addressed himself to the task. replying to a request presented through the ambassador resident at adrianople, mahommed gave him solemn assurances of his disposition to observe every existing treaty. the response seems to have made him over-confident. into the gilded council chamber at blacherne he drew his personal friends and official advisers, and heard them with patience and dignity. at the close of a series of deliberative sessions which had almost the continuity of one session, two measures met his approval. of these, the first was so extraordinary it is impossible not to attribute its suggestion to phranza, who, to the immeasurable grief and disgust of our friend the venerable dean, was now returned, and in the exercise of his high office of grand chamberlain. allusion has been already made to the religious faith of the mother of mahommed. [footnote: "for it was thought that his (amurath's) eldest son mahomet, after the death of his father, would have embraced the christian religion, being in his childhood instructed therein, as was supposed, by his mother, the daughter of the prince of servia, a christian."--knolles' _turk. hist._, , vol. i. "he (mahommed) also entered into league with constantinus palaeologus, the emperor of constantinople, and the other princes of grecia; as also with the despot of servia, his grandfather by the mother's side, as some will have it; howbeit some others write that the despot his daughter, amurath his wife (the despot's daughter, amurath's wife) was but his mother-in-law, whom he, under colour of friendship, sent back again unto her father, after the death of amurath, still allowing her a princely dowery."--_ibid_. . on this very interesting point both von hammer and gibbon are somewhat obscure; the final argument, however, is from phranza: "after the taking of constantinople, she (the princess) fled to mahomet ii." (gibbon's _rom. emp._, note , .) the action is significant of a mother. mothers-in-law are not usually so doting.] the daughter of a servian prince, she is supposed to have been a christian. after the interment of amurath, she had been returned to her native land. her age was about fifty. clothed with full powers, the grand chamberlain was despatched to adrianople to propose a marriage between his majesty, the emperor, and the sultana mother. the fears and uncertainties besetting the greek must have been overwhelming. the veteran diplomat was at the same time entrusted with another affair which one would naturally think called for much less delicacy in negotiation. there was in constantinople then a refugee named orchan, of whose history little is known beyond the fact that he was a grandson of sultan solyman. sometime presumably in the reign of john palaeologus, the prince appeared in the greek capital as a pretender to the sultanate; and his claim must have had color of right, at least, since he became the subject of a treaty between amurath and his byzantine contemporary, the former binding himself to pay the latter an annual stipend in aspers in consideration of the detention of the fugitive. with respect to this mysterious person, the time was favorable, in the opinion of the council, for demanding an increase of the stipend. instructions concerning the project were accordingly delivered to lord phranza. the high commissioner was received with flattering distinction at adrianople. he of course presented himself first to the grand vizier, kalil pacha, of whom the reader may take note, since, aside from his reappearances in these pages, he is a genuine historic character. to further acquaintance with him, it may be added that he was truly a veteran in public affairs, a member of the great family to which the vizierat descended almost in birthright, and a friend to the greeks, most likely from long association with amurath, although he has suffered severe aspersion on their account. kalil advised phranza to drop the stipend. his master, he said, was not afraid of orchan, if the latter took the field as an open claimant, short work would be made of him. the warning was disregarded. phranza submitted his proposals to mahommed directly, and was surprised by his gentleness and suavity. there was no scene whatever. on the contrary, the marriage overture was forwarded to the sultana with every indication of approval, nor was the demand touching the stipend rejected; it was simply deferred. phranza lingered at the turkish capital, pleased with the attentions shown him, and still more with the character of the sultan. in the judgment of the envoy the youthful monarch was the incarnation of peace. what time he was not mourning the loss of his royal father, he was studying designs for a palace, probably the watch tower of the world (_jehan numa_), which he subsequently built in adrianople. well for the trusting master in blacherne, well for christianity in the east, could the credulous phranza have looked in upon the amiable young potentate during one of the nights of his residence in the moslem capital! he would have found him in a chamber of impenetrable privacy, listening while the prince of india proved the calculations of a horoscope decisive of the favorable time for beginning war with the byzantines. "now, my lord," he could have heard the prince say, when the last of the many tables had been refooted for the tenth time--"now we are ready for the ultimate. we are agreed, if i mistake not"--this was not merely a complimentary form of speech, for mahommed, it should be borne in mind, was himself deeply versed in the intricate and subtle science of planetary prediction--"we are agreed that as thou art to essay the war as its beginner, we should have the most favorable ascendant, determinable by the lord, and the planet or planets therein or in conjunction or aspect with the lord; we are also agreed that the lord of the seventh house is the emperor of constantinople; we are also agreed that to have thee overcome thy adversary, the emperor, it is better to have the ascendant in the house of one of the superior planets, saturn, jupiter or mars"-- "jupiter would be good, o prince," said mahommed, intensely interested, "yet i prefer mars." "my lord is right again." the seer hesitated slightly, then explained with a deferential nod and smile: "i was near saying my lord is always right. though some of the adepts have preferred scorpio for the ascendant, because it is a fixed sign, mars pleases me best; wherefore toward him have i directed all my observations, seeking a time when he shall certainly be better fortified than the lord of the seventh house, as well as elevated above him in our figure of the heavens." mahommed leaned far over toward the prince, and said imperiously, his eyes singularly bright: "and the ultimate--the time, the time, o prince! hast thou found it? allah forbid it be too soon!--there is so much to be done--so much of preparation." the prince smiled while answering: "my lord is seeing a field of glory--his by reservation of destiny--and i do not wonder at his impatience to go reaping in it; but" (he became serious) "it is never to be forgotten--no, not even by the most exalted of men--that the planets march by order of allah alone." ... then taking the last of the calculations from the table at his right hand, he continued: "the ascendant permits my lord to begin the war next year." mahommed heard with hands clinched till the nails seemed burrowing in the flesh of the palms. "the day, o prince!--the day--the hour!" he exclaimed. looking at the calculation, the prince appeared to reply from it: "at four o'clock, march twenty-sixth"-- "and the year?" "fourteen hundred and fifty-two." "_four o'clock, march twenty-sixth, fourteen hundred and fifty-two_," mahommed repeated slowly, as if writing and verifying each word. then he cried with fervor: "there is no god but god!" twice he crossed the floor; after which, unwilling probably to submit himself at that moment to observation by any man, he returned to the prince: "thou hast leave to retire; but keep within call. in this mighty business who is worthier to be the first help of my hands than the messenger of the stars?" the prince saluted and withdrew. at length phranza wearied of waiting, and being summoned home left the two affairs in charge of an ambassador instructed to forego no opportunity which might offer to press them to conclusions. afterwhile mahommed went into asia to suppress an insurrection in caramania. the greek followed him from town to camp, until, tiring of the importunity, the sultan one day summoned him to his tent. "tell my excellent friend, the lord of constantinople, thy master, that the sultana maria declines his offer of marriage." "well, my lord," said the ambassador, touched by the brevity of the communication, "did not the great lady deign an explanation?" "she declined--that is all." the ambassador hurried a courier to constantinople with the answer. for the first time he ventured to express a doubt of the turk's sincerity. he would have been a wiser man and infinitely more useful to his sovereign, could he have heard mahommed again in colloquy with the prince of india. "how long am i to endure this dog of a _gabour?_" [footnote: mahommed always wrote and spoke of byzantines as _romans_, except when in passion; then he called them _gabours_.] asked the sultan, angrily. "it was not enough to waylay me in my palace; he pursued me into the field; now he imbitters my bread, now at my bedside he drives sleep from me, now he begrudges me time for prayer. how long, i say?" the prince answered quietly: "until march twenty-sixth, fourteen hundred and fifty-two." "but if i put him to sleep, o prince?" "his master will send another in his place." "ah, but the interval! will it not be so many days of rest?--so many nights of unbroken sleep?" "has my lord finished his census yet? are his arsenals full? has he his ships, and sailors, and soldiers? has he money according to the estimate?" "no." "my lord has said he must have cannon. has he found an artificer to his mind?" mahommed frowned. "i will give my lord a suggestion. does it suit him to reply now to the proposal of marriage, keeping the matter of the stipend open, he may give half relief and still hold the emperor, who stands more in need of bezants than of a consort." "prince," said mahommed, quickly, "as you go out send my secretary in." "despatch a messenger for the ambassador of my brother of constantinople. i will see him immediately." this to the secretary. and presently the ambassador had the matter for report above recited. in the report he might have said with truth--a person styling himself _prince of india_ has risen to be grand vizier in fact, leaving the title to kalil. these negotiations, lamentably barren of good results, were stretched through half the year. but it is necessary to leave them for the time, that we may return and see if the emperor had better success in the management of the domestic problem referred to as an inheritance. chapter ii a fire from the hegumen's tomb the great fire burned its way broadly over two hills of the city, stopping at the wall of the garden on the eastern front of blacherne. how it originated, how many houses were destroyed, how many of the people perished in the flames and in the battle waged to extinguish them, were subjects of unavailing inquiry through many days. for relief of the homeless, constantine opened his private coffers. he also assumed personal direction of the removal of the debris cumbering the unsightly blackened districts, and, animated by his example, the whole population engaged zealously in the melancholy work. when galata, laying her jealousies aside, contributed money and sent companies of laborers over to the assistance of her neighbor, it actually seemed as if the long-forgotten age of christian brotherhood was to be renewed. but, alas! this unity, bred of so much suffering, so delightful as a rest from factious alarms, so suggestive of angelic society and heavenly conditions in general, disappeared--not slowly, but almost in a twinkling. it was afternoon of the second day after the fire. having been on horseback since early morning, the emperor, in need of repose, had returned to his palace; but met at the portal by an urgent request for audience from the princess irene, he received her forthwith. the reader can surmise the business she brought for consideration, and also the amazement with which her royal kinsman heard of the discovery and rescue of lael. for a spell his self-possession forsook him. in anticipation of the popular excitement likely to be aroused by the news, he summoned his councillors, and after consultation, appointed a commission to investigate the incident, first sending a guard to take possession of the cistern. like their master, the commissioners had never heard of the first profanation of the ancient reservoir; as a crime, consequently, this repetition was to them original in all its aspects, and they addressed themselves to the inquiry incredulously; but after listening to sergius, and to the details the little jewess was able to give them, the occurrence forced itself on their comprehension as more than a crime at law--it took on the proportions and color of a conspiracy against society and religion. then its relative consequences presented themselves. who were concerned in it? the name of demedes startled them by suddenly opening a wide horizon of conjecture. some were primarily disposed to welcome the intelligence for the opportunity it offered his majesty to crush the academy of epicurus, but a second thought cooled their ardor; insomuch that they began drawing back in alarm. the brotherhood of the st. james' was powerful, and it would certainly resent any humiliation their venerable hegumen might sustain through the ignominious exposure of his son. in great uncertainty, and not a little confusion, the commissionate body hied from the princess irene to the cistern. while careful to hide it from his associates, each of them went with a scarce admitted hope that there would be a failure of the confirmations at least with respect to the misguided demedes; and not to lose sight of nilo, in whom they already discerned a serviceable scapegoat, they required him to go with them. the revelations call for a passing notice. in the court the body of the keeper was found upon the pavement. the countenance looked the terror of which the man died, and as a spectacle grimly prepared the beholders for the disclosures which were to follow. there was need of resolution to make the dismal ferriage from the lower platform in the cistern, but it was done, nilo at the oars. when the visitors stepped on the landing of the "palace," their wonder was unbounded. when they passed through the battered doorway, and standing under the circlet, in which the lights were dead, gazed about them, they knew not which was most astonishing, the courage of the majestic black or the audacity of the projector of the villanous scheme. but where was he? we may be sure there was no delay in the demand for him. while the fishing tongs were being brought, the apartments were inspected, and a list of their contents made. then the party collected at the edge of the landing. the secret hope was faint within them, for the confirmations so far were positive, and the terrible negro, not in the least abashed, was showing them where his enemy went down. they gave him the tongs, and at the first plunge he grappled the body, and commenced raising it. they crowded closer around him, awe-struck yet silently praying: holy mother, grant it be any but the hegumen's son! a white hand, the fingers gay with rings, appeared above the water. the fisherman took hold of it, and with a triumphant smile, drew the corpse out, and laid it face up for better viewing. the garments were still bright, the gilded mail sparkled bravely. one stooped with the light, and said immediately: "it is he--demedes!" then the commissioners looked at each other--there was no need of speech--a fortunate thing, for at that instant there was nothing of which they were more afraid. avoidance of the dreaded complications was now impossible--so at least it seemed to them. up in the keeper's room, whither they hurriedly adjourned, it was resolved to despatch a messenger to his majesty with an informal statement of the discoveries, and a request for orders. the unwillingness to assume responsibility was natural. constantine acted promptly, and with sharp discernment of the opportunity afforded the mischief-makers. the offence was to the city, and it should see the contempt in which the conspirators held it, the danger escaped, and the provocation to the most righteous; if then there were seditions, his conscience was acquit. he sent phranza to break the news to the hegumen, and went in person to the monastery, arriving barely in time to receive the blessings of his reverend friend, who, overcome by the shock, died in his arms. returning sadly to blacherne, he ordered the corpses of the guilty men to be exposed for two days before the door of the keeper's house, and the cistern thrown open for visitation by all who desired to inspect the palace of darkness, as he appropriately termed the floating tenement constructed with such wicked intents. he also issued a proclamation for the suppression of the epicurean academy, and appointed a day of thanksgiving to god for the early exposure of the conspiracy. nilo he sent to a cell in the cynegion, ostensibly for future trial, but really to secure him from danger; in his heart he admired the king's spirit, and hoped a day would come when he could safely and suitably reward him. on the part of the people the commotion which ensued was extraordinary. they left the fire to its smouldering, and in steady currents marched past the ghastly exhibits prepared for them in the street, looked at them, shuddered, crossed themselves, and went their ways apparently thankful for the swiftness of the judgment which had befallen; nor was there one heard to criticise the emperor's course. the malefactors were dropped, like unclean clods, into the earth at night, without ceremony or a mourner in attendance. thus far all well. at length the day of thanksgiving arrived. by general agreement, there was not a sign of dissatisfaction to be seen. the most timorous of the commissioners rested easy. sancta sophia was the place appointed for the services, and constantine had published his intention to be present. he had donned the basilean robes; his litter was at the door of the palace; his guard of horse and foot was formed, when the officer on duty at the gate down by the port of blacherne arrived with a startling report. "your majesty," he said, unusually regardless of the ancient salutation, "there is a great tumult in the city." the imperial countenance became stern. "this is a day of thanks to god for a great mercy; who dares profane it by tumult?" "i must speak from hearsay," the officer answered.... "the funeral of the hegumen of the st. james took place at daylight this morning"-- "yes," said constantine, sighing at the sad reminder, "i had intended to assist the brotherhood. but proceed." "the brothers, with large delegations from the other monasteries, were assembled at the tomb, when gennadius appeared, and began to preach, and he wrought upon his hearers until they pushed the coffin into the vault, and dispersed through the streets, stirring up the people." at this the emperor yielded to his indignation. "now, by the trials and sufferings of the most christian mother, are we beasts insensible to destruction? or idiots exempt from the penalties of sin and impiety? and he--that genius of unrest--that master of foment--god o' mercy, what has he laid hold of to lead so many better men to betray their vows and the beads at their belts? tell me--speak--my patience is nearly gone." for an instant, be it said, the much tried sovereign beheld a strong hand move within reach, as offering itself for acceptance. no doubt he saw it as it was intended, the symbol and suggestion of a policy. pity he did not take it! for then how much of mischance had been averted from himself--constantinople might not have been lost to the christian world--the greek church had saved its integrity by recognizing the union with the latins consummated at the council of florence--christianity had not been flung back for centuries in the east, its birthplace. "your majesty," the officer returned, "i can report what i heard, leaving its truth to investigation.... in his speech by the tomb gennadius admitted the awfulness of the crime attempted by demedes, and the justice of the punishment the young man suffered, its swiftness proving it to have been directed by heaven; but he declared its conception was due to the academy of epicurus, and that there remained nothing deserving study and penance except the continued toleration without which the ungodly institution had passed quickly, as plagues fly over cities purified against them. the crime, he said, was ended. let the dead bury the dead. but who were they responsible for grace to the academy? and he answered himself, my lord, by naming the church and the state." "ah! he attacked the church then?" "no, my lord, he excused it by saying it had been debauched by an _azymite_ patriarch, and while that servant of prostitution and heresy controlled it, wickedness would be protected and go on increasing." "and the state--how dealt he with the state?" "the church he described as samson; the patriarch, as an uncomely delilah who had speciously shorn it of its strength and beauty; the state, as a political prompter and coadjutor of the delilah; and rome, a false god seeking to promote worship unto itself through the debased church and state." "god o' mercy!" constantine exclaimed, involuntarily signing to the sword-bearer at his back; but recovering himself, he asked with forced moderation: "to the purpose of it all--the object. what did he propose to the brothers?" "he called them lovers of god in the livery of christ, and implored them to gird up their loins, and stand for the religion of the fathers, lest it perish entirely." "did he tell them what to do?" "yes, my lord." a wistful, eager look appeared on the royal face, and behind it an expectation that now there would be something to justify arrest and exile at least--something politically treasonable. "he referred next to the thanksgiving services appointed to-day in sancta sophia, and declared it an opportunity from heaven, sent them and all the faithful in the city, to begin a crusade for reform; not by resort to sword and spear, for they were weapons of hell, but by refusing to assist the patriarch with their presence. a vision had come to him in the night, he said--an angel of the lord with the madonna of blacherne--advising him of the divine will. under his further urgency--and my lord knows his power of speech--the brothers listening, the st. james' and all present from the other orders, broke up and took to the streets, where they are now, exhorting the people not to go to the church, and there is reason to believe they will"-- "enough," said the emperor, with sudden resolution. "the good gregory shall not pray god singly and alone." turning to phranza, he ordered him to summon the court for the occasion. "let not one stay away," he continued; "and they shall put on their best robes and whole regalia; for, going in state myself, i have need of their utmost splendor. it is my will, further, that the army be drawn from their quarters to the church, men, music, and flags, and the navies from their ships. and give greeting to the patriarch, and notify him, lest he make haste. aside from these preparations, i desire the grumblers be left to pursue their course unmolested. the sincere and holy amongst them will presently have return of clear light." this counter project was entered upon energetically. shortly after noon the military bore down to the old church, braying the streets with horns, drums and cymbals, and when they were at order in the immense auditorium, their banners hanging unfurled from the galleries, the emperor entered, with his court; in a word, the brave, honest, white-haired patriarch had company multitudinous and noble as he could desire. none the less, however, gennadius had his way also--_the people took no part in the ceremony_. after the celebration, constantine, in his chambers up in blacherne, meditated upon the day and its outcome. phranza was his sole attendant. "my dear friend," the emperor began, breaking a long silence, and much disquieted, "was not my predecessor, the first constantine, beset with religious dissensions?" "if we may credit history, my lord, he certainly was." "how did he manage them?" "he called a council." "a council truly--was that all?" "i do not recollect anything more." "it was this way, i think. he first settled the faith, and then provided against dispute." "how, my lord?" "well, there was one arius, a libyan, presbyter of a little church in alexandria called baucalis, preacher of the unity of god"-- "i remember him now." "of the unity of god as opposed to the trinity. him the first constantine sent to prison for life, did he not?" thereupon phranza understood the subject of his master's meditation; but being of a timid soul, emasculated by much practice of diplomacy, usually a tedious, waiting occupation, he hastened to reply: "even so, my lord. yet he could afford to be heroic. he had consolidated the church, and was holding the world in the hollow of his hand." constantine allowed a sigh to escape him, and lapsed into silence; when next he spoke, it was to say slowly: "alas, my dear friend! the people were not there"--meaning at sancta sophia. "i fear, i fear"-- "what, my lord?" another sigh deeper than the first one: "i fear i am not a statesman, but only a soldier, with nothing to give god and my empire except a sword and one poor life." these details will help the reader to a fair understanding of the domestic involvements which overtook the emperor about the time mahommed ascended the turkish throne, and they are to be considered in addition to the negotiations in progress with the sultan. and as it is important to give an idea of their speeding, we remark further, that from the afternoon of the solemnity in sancta sophia the discussion then forced upon him went from bad to worse, until he was seriously deprived both of popular sympathy and the support of the organized religious orders. the success of the solemnity in point of display, and the measures resorted to, were not merely offensive to gennadius and his ally, the duke notaras; they construed them as a challenge to a trial of strength, and so vigorously did they avail themselves of their advantages that, before the emperor was aware of it, there were two distinct parties in the city, one headed by gennadius, the other by himself and gregory the patriarch. month by month the bitterness intensified; month by month the imperial party fell away until there was little of it left outside the court and the army and navy, and even they were subjected to incessant inroads--until, finally, it came to pass that the emperor was doubtful whom to trust. thereupon, of course, the season for energetic repressive measures vanished, never to return. personalities, abuse, denunciation, lying, and sometimes downright blows took the place of debate in the struggle. one day religion was an exciting cause; next day, politics. throughout it all, however, gennadius was obviously the master-spirit. his methods were consummately adapted to the genius of the byzantines. by confining himself strictly to the church wrangle, he avoided furnishing the emperor pretexts for legal prosecution; at the same time he wrought with such cunning that in the monasteries the very high residence of blacherne was spoken of as a den of _azymites_, while sancta sophia was abandoned to the patriarch. to be seen in the purlieus of the latter was a signal for vulgar anathemas and social ostracism. his habits meantime were of a sort to make him a popular idol. he grew, if possible, more severely penitential; he fasted and flagellated himself; he slept on the stony floor before his crucifix; he seldom issued from his cell, and when visited there, was always surprised at prayers, the burden of which was forgiveness for signing the detested articles of union with the latins. the physical suffering he endured was not without solace; he had heavenly visions and was attended by angels. if in his solitude he fainted, the holy virgin of blacherne ministered to him, and brought him back to life and labor. first an ascetic, then a prophet--such was his progression. and constantine was a witness to the imposture, and smarted under it; still he held there was nothing for him but to temporize, for if he ordered the seizure and banishment of the all-powerful hypocrite, he could trust no one with the order. the time was dark as a starless night to the high-spirited but too amiable monarch, and he watched and waited, or rather watched and drifted, extending confidence to but two counsellors, phranza and the princess irene. even in their company he was not always comfortable, for, strange to say, the advice of the woman was invariably heroic, and that of the man invariably weak and accommodating. from this sketch the tendencies of the government can be right plainly estimated, leaving the suspicion of a difference between the first constantine and the last to grow as the evils grew. chapter iii mirza does an errand for mahommed vegetation along the bosphorus was just issuing from what may be called its budded state. in the gardens and protected spots on the european side white and yellow winged butterflies now and then appeared without lighting, for as yet there was nothing attractive enough to keep them. like some great men of whom we occasionally hear, they were in the world before their time. in other words the month of may was about a week old, and there was a bright day to recommend it--bright, only a little too much tinctured with march and april to be all enjoyable. the earth was still spongy, the water cold, the air crisp, and the sun deceitful. about ten o'clock in the morning constantinopolitans lounging on the sea-wall were surprised by explosive sounds from down the marmora. afterwhile they located them, so to speak, on a galley off st. stephano. at stated intervals, pale blue smoke would burst from the vessel, followed by a hurry-skurry of gulls in the vicinity, and then the roar, muffled by distance. the age of artillery had not yet arrived; nevertheless, cannon were quite well known to fame. enterprising traders from the west had sailed into the golden horn with samples of the new arm on their decks; they were of such rude construction as to be unfit for service other than saluting. [footnote: cannon were first made of hooped iron, widest at the mouth. the process of casting them was just coming in.] so, now, while the idlers on the wall were not alarmed, they were curious to make out who the extravagant fellows were, and waited for the flag to tell them. the stranger passed swiftly, firing as it went; and as the canvas was new and the hull freshly painted in white, it rode the waves to appearances a very beautiful "thing of life;" but the flag told nothing of its nationality. there were stripes on it diagonally set, green, yellow, and red, the yellow in the middle. "the owners are not genoese"--such was the judgment on the wall. "no, nor venetian, for that is not a lion in the yellow." "what, then, is it?" pursued thus, the galley, at length rounding point serail (demetrius), turned into the harbor. when opposite the tower of galata, a last salute was fired from her deck; then the two cities caught up the interest, and being able to make out decisively that the sign in the yellow field of the flag was but a coat-of-arms, they said emphatically: "it is not a national ship--only a great lord;" and thereupon the question became self-inciting: "who is he?" hardly had the anchor taken hold in the muddy bed of the harbor in front of the port of blacherne, before a small boat put off from the strange ship, manned by sailors clad in flowing white trousers, short sleeveless jackets, and red turbans of a style remarkable for amplitude. an officer, probably the sailing-master, went with them, and he, too, was heavily turbaned. a gaping crowd on the landing received the visitor when he stepped ashore and asked to see the captain of the guard. to that dignitary he delivered a despatch handsomely enveloped in yellow silk, saying, in imperfect greek: "my lord, just arrived, prays you to read the enclosure, and send it forward by suitable hand. he trusts to your knowledge of what the proprieties require. he will await the reply on his galley." the sailing-master saluted profoundly, resumed seat in his boat, and started back to the ship, leaving the captain of the guard to open the envelope and read the communication, which was substantially as follows: "from the galley, st. agostino, may , year of our blessed saviour, . "the undersigned is a christian noble of italy, more particularly from his strong castle corti on the eastern coast of italy, near the ancient city of brindisi. he offers lealty to his most christian majesty, the emperor of constantinople, defender of the faith according to the crucified son of god (to whom be honor and praise forevermore), and humbly represents that he is a well-knighted soldier by profession, having won his spurs in battle, and taken the accolade from the hand of calixtus the third, bishop of rome, and, yet more worthily, his holiness the pope: that the time being peaceful in his country, except as it was rent by baronial feuds and forays not to his taste, he left it in search of employment and honors abroad; that he made the pilgrimage to the holy sepulchre first, and secured there a number of precious relics, which he is solicitous of presenting to his imperial majesty; that from long association with the moslems, whom heaven, in its wisdom impenetrable to the understanding of men, permits to profane the holy land with their presence and wicked guardianship, he acquired a speaking knowledge of the arabic and turkish languages; that he engaged in warfare against those enemies of god, having the powerful sanction therefor of his holiness aforesaid, by whose direction he occupied himself chiefly with chastising the berber pirates of tripoli, from whom he took prisoners, putting them at his oars, where some of them now are. with the august city of byzantium he has been acquainted many years through report, and, if its fame be truly published, he desires to reside in it, possibly to the end of his days. wherefore he presumes to address this his respectful petition, praying its submission to his most christian majesty, that he may be assured if the proposal be agreeable to the royal pleasure, and in the meantime have quiet anchorage for his galley. ugo, count corti." in the eyes of the captain of the guard the paper was singular, but explicit; moreover, the request seemed superfluous, considering the laxity prevalent with respect to the coming and going of persons of all nativities and callings. to be sure, trade was not as it used to be, and, thanks to the enterprise and cunning of the galatanese across the harbor, the revenues from importations were sadly curtailed; still the old city had its markets, and the world was welcome to them. the argument, however, which silenced the custodian's doubt was, that of the few who rode to the gates in their own galleys and kept them there ready to depart if their reception were in the least chilling, how many signed themselves as did this one? italian counts were famous fighters, and generally had audiences wherever they knocked. so he concluded to send the enclosure up to the palace without the intermediation of the high admiral, a course which would at least save time. while the affair is thus pending, we may return to count corti, and say an essential word or two of him. the cannon, it is to be remarked, was not the only novelty of the galley. over the stern, where the aplustre cast its shadow in ordinary crafts, there was a pavilion-like structure, high-raised, flat-roofed, and with small round windows in the sides. quite likely the progressive ship-builders at palos and genoa would have termed the new feature a cabin. it was beyond cavil an improvement; and on this occasion the proprietor utilized it as he well might. since the first gun off st. stephano, he had held the roof, finding it the best position to get and enjoy a view of the capital, or rather of the walls and crowned eminences they had so long and all-sufficiently defended. a chair had been considerately brought up and put at his service, but in witness of the charm the spectacle had for him from the beginning, he did not once resort to it. if only to save ourselves description of the man, and rescue him from a charge of intrusion into the body of our story, we think it better to take the reader into confidence at once, and inform him that count corti is in fact our former acquaintance mirza, the emir of the hajj. the difference between his situation now, and when we first had sight of him on his horse under the yellow flag in the valley of zaribah is remarkable; yet he is the same in one particular at least--he was in armor then, and he is still in armor--that is, he affects the same visorless casque, with its cape of fine rings buckled under the chin, the same shirt and overalls of pliable mail, the same shoes of transverse iron scales working into each other telescopically when the feet are in movement, the same golden spurs, and a surcoat in every particular like the emir's, except it is brick-dust red instead of green. and this constancy in armor should not be accounted a vanity; it was a habit acquired in the school of arms which graduated him, and which he persisted in partly for the inurement, and partly as a mark of respect for mahommed, with whom the gleam and clink of steel well fashioned and gracefully worn was a passion, out of which he evolved a suite rivalling those kinsmen of the buccleuch who-- "--quitted not their harness bright, neither by day nor yet by night." returning once again. it was hoped when mirza was first introduced that every one who might chance to spend an evening over these pages would perceive the possibilities he prefigured, and adopt him as a favorite; wherefore the interest may be more pressing to know what he, an islamite supposably without guile, a janissary of rank, lately so high in his master's confidence, is doing here, offering lealty to the most christian emperor, and denouncing the followers of the prophet as enemies of god. the appearances are certainly against him. the explanation due, if only for coherence in our narrative, would be clearer did the reader review the part of the last conversation in the white castle between the prince of india and mahommed, in which the latter is paternally advised to study the greek capital, and keep himself informed of events within its walls. yet, inasmuch as there is a current in reading which one once fairly into is loath to be pushed out of, we may be forgiven for quoting a material passage or two.... "there is much for my lord to do"--the prince says, speaking to his noble eleve. "it is for him to think and act as if constantinople were his capital temporarily in possession of another.... it is for him to learn the city within and without; its streets and edifices; its hills and walls; its strong and weak places; its inhabitants, commerce, foreign relations; the character of its ruler, his resources and policies; its daily events; its cliques, clubs, and religious factions; especially is it for him to foment the differences latin and greek already a fire which has long been eating out to air in an inflammable house."... mahommed, it will be recollected, acceded to the counsel, and in discussing the selection of a person suitable for the secret agency, the prince said: ... "he who undertakes it should enter constantinople and live there above suspicion. he must be crafty, intelligent, courtly in manner, accomplished in arms, of high rank, and with means to carry his state bravely; for not only ought he to be conspicuous in the hippodrome; he should be welcome in the salons and palaces; along with other facilities, he must be provided to buy service in the emperor's bedroom and council chamber--nay, at his elbow. mature of judgment, it is of prime importance that he possess my lord's confidence unalterably."... and when the ambitious turk demanded: "the man, prince, the man!"--the wily tutor responded: "my lord has already named him."--"i?"--"only to-night my lord spoke of him as a marvel."--"mirza?"... the jew then proceeded: "despatch him to italy; let him appear in constantinople, embarked from a galley, habited like an italian, and with a suitable italian title. he speaks italian already, is fixed in his religion, and in knightly honor. not all the gifts at the despot's disposal, nor the blandishments of society can shake his allegiance--he worships my lord."... mahommed demurred to the proposal, saying: "so has mirza become a part of me, i am scarcely myself without him." now he who has allowed himself to become interested in the bright young emir, and pauses to digest these excerpts, will be aware of a grave concern for him. he foresees the outcome of the devotion to mahommed dwelt upon so strongly by the prince of india. an order to undertake the secret service will be accepted certainly as it is given. the very assurance that it will be accepted begets solicitude in the affair. did mahommed decide affirmatively? what were the instructions given? having thus settled the coherences, we move on with the narrative. it will be remembered, further, that close after the departure of the princess irene from the old castle, mahommed followed her to therapia, and, as an arab story-teller, was favored with an extended private audience in which he extolled himself to her at great length, and actually assumed the role of a lover. what is yet more romantic, he came away a lover in fact. the circumstance is not to be lightly dismissed, for it was of immeasurable effect upon the fortunes of the emir, and--if we can be excused for connecting an interest so stupendous with one so comparatively trifling--the fate of constantinople. theretofore the turk's ambition had been the sole motive of his designs against that city, and, though vigorous, driving, and possibly enough of itself to have pushed him on, there might yet have been some delay in the achievement. ambition derived from genius is cautious in its first movements, counts the cost, ponders the marches to be made and the means to be employed, and is at times paralyzed by the simple contemplation of failure; in other words, dread of loss of glory is not seldom more powerful than the hope of glory. after the visit to therapia, however, love reenforced ambition; or rather the two passions possessed mahommed, and together they murdered his sleep. he became impatient and irritable; the days were too short, the months too long. constantinople absorbed him. he thought of nothing else waking, and dreamed of nothing else. well for him his faith in astrology, for by it the prince of india was able to hold him to methodic preparation. there were times when he was tempted to seize the princess, and carry her off. her palace was undefended, and he had but to raid it at night. why not? there were two reasons, either of them sufficient: first, the stern old sultan, his father, was a just man, and friendly to the emperor constantine; but still stronger, and probably the deterrent in fact, he actually loved the princess with a genuine romantic sentiment, her happiness an equal motive--loved her for herself--a thing perfectly consistent, for in the oriental idea there is always one the highest. now, it was very lover-like in mahommed, his giving himself up to thought of the princess while gliding down the bosphorus, after leaving his safeguard on her gate. he closed his eyes against the mellow light on the water, and, silently admitting her the perfection of womanhood, held her image before him until it was indelible in memory--face, figure, manner, even her dress and ornaments--until his longing for her became a positive hunger of soul. as if to give us an illustration of the mal-apropos in coincidence, his august father had selected a bride for him, and he was on the road to adrianople to celebrate the nuptials when he stopped at the white castle. the maiden chosen was of a noble turkish family, but harem born and bred. she might be charming, a very queen in the seraglio; but, alas! the kinswoman of the christian emperor had furnished a glimpse of attractions which the fiancee to whom he was going could never attain--attractions of mind and manner more lasting than those of mere person; and as he finished the comparison, he beat his breast, and cried out: "ah, the partiality of the most merciful! to clothe this greek with all the perfections, and deny her to me!" withal, there was a method in mahommed's passion. setting his face sternly against violating his own safeguard by abducting the princess, he fell into revision of her conversation; and then a light broke in upon him--a light and a road to his object. he recalled with particularity her reply to the message delivered to her, supposably from himself, containing his avowal that he loved her the more because she was a christian, and singled out of it these words: ... "a wife i might become, not from temptation of gain or power, or in surrender to love--i speak not in derision of the passion, since, like the admitted virtues, it is from god--nay, sheik, in illustration of what may otherwise be of uncertain meaning to him, tell prince mahommed i might become his wife could i, by so doing, save or help the religion i profess." this he took to pieces.... "'she might become a wife.' good!... 'she might become my wife'--on condition.... what condition?" ... he beat his breast again, this time with a laugh. the rowers looked at him in wonder. what cared he for them? he had discovered a way to make her his.... "constantinople is the greek church," he muttered, with flashing eyes. "i will take the city for my own glory--to her then the glory of saving the church! on to constantinople!" and from that moment the fate of the venerable metropolis may be said to have been finally sealed. within an hour after his return to the white castle, he summoned mirza, and surprised him by the exuberance of his joy. he threw his arm over the emir's shoulder, and walked with him, laughing and talking, like a man in wine. his nature was of the kind which, for the escape of feeling, required action as well as words. at length he sobered down. "here, mirza," he said. "stand here before me.... thou lovest me, i believe?" mirza answered upon his knee: "my lord has said it." "i believe thee.... rise and take pen and paper, and write, standing here before me." [footnote: a turkish calligraphist works on his feet as frequently as on a chair, using a pen made of reed and india ink reduced to fluid.] from a table near by the materials were brought, and the emir, again upon his knees, wrote as his master dictated. the paper need not be given in full. enough that it covered with uncommon literalness--for the conqueror's memory was prodigious--the suggestions of the prince of india already quoted respecting the duties of the agent in constantinople. while writing, the emir was variously moved; one instant, his countenance was deeply flushed, and in the next very pale; sometimes his hand trembled. mahommed meantime kept close watch upon him, and now he asked: "what ails thee?" "my lord's will is my will," was the answer--"yet"-- "out--speak out." "my lord is sending me from him, and i dread losing my place at his right hand." mahommed laughed heartily. "lay the fear betime," he then said, gravely. "where thou goest, though out of reach of my right hand, there will my thought be. hear--nay, at my knee." he laid the hand spoken of on mirza's shoulder, and stooped towards him. "ah, my saladin, thou wert never in love, i take it? well--i am. look not up now, lest--lest thou think my bearded cheek hath changed to a girl's." mirza did not look up, yet he knew his master was blushing. "where thou goest, i would give everything but the sword of othman to be every hour of the day, for she abideth there.... i see a ring on thy hand--the ruby ring i gave thee the day thou didst unhorse the uncircumcised deputy of hunyades. give it back to me. 'tis well. see, i place it on the third finger of my left hand. they say whoever looketh at her is thenceforth her lover. i caution thee, and so long as this ruby keepeth color unchanged, i shall know thou art keeping honor bright with me--that thou lovest her, because thou canst not help it, yet for my sake, and because i love her.... look up now, my falcon--look up, and pledge me." "i pledge my lord," mirza answered. "now i will tell thee. she is that kinswoman of the _gabour_ emperor constantine whom we saw here the day of our arrival. or didst thou see her? i have forgotten." "i did not, my lord." "well, thou wilt know her at sight; for in grace and beauty i think she must be a daughter of the houri this moment giving immortal drink to the beloved of allah, even the prophet." mahommed changed his tone. "the paper and the pen." and taking them he signed the instructions, and the signature was the same as that on the safeguard on the gate at therapia. "there--keep it well; for when thou gettest to constantinople, thou wilt become a christian." he laughed again. "mirza--the mirza mahommed swore by, and appointed keeper of his heart's secret--he a christian! this will shift the sin of the apostasy to me." mirza took the paper. "i have not chosen to write of the other matter. in what should it be written, if at all, except in my blood--so close is it to me?... these are the things i expect of thee. art thou listening? she shall be to thee as thine eye. advise me of her health, and where she goes; with whom she consorts; what she does and says; save her from harm: does one speak ill of her, kill him, only do it in my name--and forget not, o my saladin!--as thou hopest a garden and a couch in paradise--forget not that in constantinople, when i come, i am to receive her from thy hand peerless in all things as i left her to-day.... thou hast my will all told. i will send money to thy room to-night, and thou wilt leave to-night, lest, being seen making ready in the morning, some idiot pursue thee with his wonder.... as thou art to be my other self, be it royally. kings never account to themselves.... thou wantest now nothing but this signet." from his breast he drew a large ring, its emerald setting graven with the signature at the bottom of the instructions, and gave it to him. "is there a pacha or a begler-bey, governor of a city or a province, property of my father, who refuseth thy demand after showing him this, report him, and _shintan_ will be more tolerable unto him than i, when i have my own. it is all said. go now.... we will speak of rewards when next we meet.... or stay! thou art to communicate by way of this castle, and for that i will despatch a man to thee in constantinople. remember--for every word thou sendest me of the city, i look for two of her.... here is my hand." mirza kissed it, and departed. chapter iv the emir in italy we know now who count corti is, and the objects of his coming to constantinople--that he is a secret agent of mahommed--that, summed up in the fewest words, his business is to keep the city in observation, and furnish reports which will be useful to his master in the preparation the latter is making for its conquest. we also know he is charged with very peculiar duties respecting the princess irene. the most casual consideration of these revelations will make it apparent, in the next place, that hereafter the emir must be designated by his italian appellative in full or abbreviated. before forsaking the old name, there is lively need of information, whether as he now stands on the deck of his galley, waiting the permissions prayed by him of the emperor constantine, he is, aside from title, the same mirza lately so honored by mahommed. from the time the ship hove in sight of the city, he had kept his place on the cabin. the sailors, looking up to him occasionally, supposed him bound by the view, so motionless he stood, so steadfastly he gazed. yet in fact his countenance was not expressive of admiration or rapture. a man with sound vision may have a mountain just before him and not see it; he may be in the vortex of a battle deaf to its voices; a thought or a feeling can occupy him in the crisis of his life to the exclusion of every sense. if perchance it be so with the emir now, he must have undergone a change which only a powerful cause could have brought about. he had been so content with his condition, so proud of his fame already won, so happy in keeping prepared for the opportunities plainly in his sight, so satisfied with his place in his master's confidence, so delighted when that master laid a hand upon his shoulder and called him familiarly, now his saladin, and now his falcon. faithfully, as bidden, mirza sallied from the white castle the night of his appointment to the agency in constantinople. he spoke to no one of his intention, for he well knew secrecy was the soul of the enterprise. for the same reason, he bought of a dervish travelling with the lord mahommed's suite a complete outfit, including the man's donkey and donkey furniture. at break of day he was beyond the hills of the bosphorus, resolved to skirt the eastern shore of the marmora and hellespont, from which the greek population had been almost entirely driven by the turks, and at the dardanelles take ship for italy direct as possible--a long route and trying--yet there was in it the total disappearance from the eyes of acquaintances needful to success in his venture. his disguise insured him from interruption on the road, dervishes being sacred characters in the estimation of the faithful, and generally too poor to excite cupidity. a gray-frocked man, hooded, coarsely sandalled, and with a blackened gourd at his girdle for the alms he might receive from the devout, no islamite meeting him would ever suspect a large treasure in the ragged bundle on the back of the patient animal plodding behind him like a tired dog. the dardanelles was a great stopping-place for merchants and tradesmen, greek, venetian, genoese. there mirza provided himself with an italian suit, adopted the italian tongue, and became italian. he borrowed a chart of the coast of italy from a sailor, to determine the port at which it would be advisable for him to land. while settling this point, the conversation had with the prince of india in the latter's tent at zaribah arose to mind, and he recalled with particularity all that singular person said with reference to the accent observable in his speech. he also went over the description he himself had given the prince of the house or castle from which he had been taken in childhood. a woman had borne him outdoors, under a blue sky, along a margin of white sand, an orchard on one hand, the sea on the other. he remembered the report of the waves breaking on the shore, the olive-green color of the trees in the orchard, and the battlemented gate of the castle; whereupon the prince said the description reminded him of the eastern shore of italy in the region of brindisi. it was a vague remark certainly; but now it made a deeper impression on the emir than at the moment of its utterance and pointed his attention to brindisi. the going to italy, he argued, was really to get a warrant for the character he was to assume in constantinople; that is, to obtain some knowledge of the country, its geography, political divisions, cities, rulers, and present conditions generally, without which the slightest cross-examination by any of the well-informed personages about the emperor would shatter his pretensions in an instant. then it was he fell into a most unusual mood. since the hour the turbaned rovers captured him he had not been assailed by a desire to see or seek his country and family. who was his father? was his mother living? probably nothing could better define the profundity of the system underlying the organization of the janissaries than that he had never asked those questions with a genuine care to have them solved. what a suppression of the most ordinary instincts of nature! how could it have been accomplished so completely? as a circumstance, its tendency is to confirm the theory that men are creatures of education and association.... was his mother living? did she remember him? had she wept for him? what sort of being was she? if living, how old would she be? and he actually attempted a calculation. calling himself twenty-six she might not be over forty-five. that was not enough to dim her eyes or more than slightly silver her hair; and as respects her heart, are not the affections of a mother flowers for culling by death alone? such reflections never fail effect. a tenderness of spirit is the first token of their presence; then memory and imagination begin striving; the latter to bring the beloved object back, and the former to surround it with sweetest circumstances. they wrought with mirza as with everybody else. the yearning they excited in him was a surprise; presently he determined to act on the prince of india's suggestion, and betake himself to the eastern coast of italy. the story of the sack of a castle was of a kind to have wide circulation; at the same time this one was recent enough to be still in the memory of persons living. finding the place of its occurrence was the difficulty. if in the vicinity of brindisi--well, he would go and ask. the yearning spoken of did not come alone; it had for companion, conscience, as yet in the background. there were vessels bound for venice. one was taking in water, after which it would sail for otranto. it seemed a fleet craft, with a fair crew, and a complement of stout rowers. otranto was south of brindisi a little way, and the castle he wanted to hear of might have been situated between those cities. who could tell? besides, as an italian nobleman, to answer inquiry in constantinople, he would have to locate himself somewhere, and possibly the coast in question might accommodate him with both a location and a title. the result was he took passage to otranto. while there he kept his role of traveller, but was studious, and picked up a great fund of information bearing upon the part awaiting him. he lived and dressed well, and affected religious circles. it was the day when italy was given over to the nobles--the day of robbers, fighting, intrigues and usurpations--of free lances and bold banditti--of government by the strong hand, of right determinable by might, of ensanguined guelphs and ghibellines. of these the emir kept clear. by chance he fell in with an old man of secondary rank in the city much given to learning, an habitue of a library belonging to one of the monasteries. it came out ere long that the venerable person was familiar with the coast from otranto to brindisi, and beyond far as polignano. "it was in my sturdier days," the veteran said, with a dismal glance at his shrunken hands. "the people along the shore were much harried by moslem pirates. landing from their galleys, the depredators burned habitations, slew the men, and carried off such women as they thought would fetch a price. they even assaulted castles. at last we were driven to the employment of a defensive guard cooperative on land and water. i was a captain. our fights with the rovers were frequent and fierce. neither side showed quarter." the reminiscence stimulated mirza to inquiry. he asked the old man if he could mention a castle thus attacked. "yes, there was one belonging to count corti, a few leagues beyond brindisi. the count defended himself, but was slain." "had he a family?" "a wife and a boy child." "what became of them?" "by good chance the countess was in brindisi attending a fete; she escaped, of course. the boy, two or three years of age, was made prisoner, and never heard of afterwards." a premonition seized mirza. "is the countess living?" "yes. she never entirely recovered from the shock, but built a house near the site of the castle, and clearing a room in the ruins, turned it into a chapel. every morning and evening she goes there, and prays for the soul of her husband, and the return of her lost boy." "how long is it since the poor lady was so bereft?" the narrator reflected, and replied: "twenty-two or three years." "may the castle be found?" "yes." "have you been to it?" "many times." "how was it named?" "after the count--_il castillo di corti_." "tell me something of its site." "it is down close by the sea. a stone wall separates its front enclosure from the beach. sometimes the foam of the waves is dashed upon the wall. through a covered gate one looks out, and all is water. standing on the tower, all landward is orchard and orchard--olive and almond trees intermixed. a great estate it was and is. the countess, it is understood, has a will executed; if the boy does not return before her death, the church is to be her legatee." there was more of the conversation, covering a history of the corti family, honorable as it was old--the men famous warriors, the women famous beauties. mirza dreamed through the night of the countess, and awoke with a vague consciousness that the wife of the pacha, the grace of whose care had been about him in childhood--a good woman, gentle and tender--was after all but a representative of the mother who had given him birth, just as on her part every mother is mercifully representative of god. under strong feeling he took boat for brindisi. there he had no trouble in confirming the statements of his otranto acquaintance. the countess was still living, and the coast road northwardly would bring him to the ruins of her castle. the journey did not exceed five leagues. what he might find at the castle, how long he would stay, what do, were so uncertain--indeed everything in the connection was so dependent upon conditions impossible of foresight, that he resolved to set out on foot. to this course he was the more inclined by the mildness of the weather, and the reputation of the region for freshness and beauty. about noon he was fairly on the road. persons whom he met--and they were not all of the peasant class--seeing a traveller jaunty in plumed cap, light blue camail, pointed buskins, and close-fitting hose the color of the camail, sword at his side, and javelin in hand, stayed to observe him long as he was in sight, never dreaming they were permitted to behold a favorite of one of the bloody mahounds of the east. over hill and down shallow vales: through stone-fenced lanes; now in the shade of old trees; now along a seashore partially overflowed by languid waves, he went, lighter in step than heart, for he was in the mood by no means uncommon, when the spirit is prophesying evil unto itself. he was sensible of the feeling, and for shame would catch the javelin in the middle and whirl it about him defensively until it sung like a spinning-wheel; at times he stopped and, with his fingers in his mouth, whistled to a small bird as if it were a hunting hawk high in air. once, seeing a herd of goats around a house thatched and half-hidden in vines, he asked for milk. a woman brought it to him, with a slice of brown bread; and while he ate and drank, she stared at him in respectful admiration; and when he paid her in gold, she said, courtesying low: "a glad life to my lord! i will pray the madonna to make the wish good." poor creature! she had no idea she was blessing one in whose faith the prophet was nearer god than god's own son. at length the road made an abrupt turn to the right, bringing him to a long stretch of sandy beach. nearly as he could judge, it was time for the castle to appear, and he was anxious to make it before sundown. yet in the angle of the wood he saw a wayside box of stone sheltering an image of the virgin, with the holy child in its arms. besides being sculptured better than usual, the figures were covered with flowers in wreath and bouquet. a dressed slab in front of the structure, evidently for the accommodation of worshippers, invited him to rest, and he took the seat, and looking up at the mother, she appeared to be looking at him. he continued his gaze, and presently the face lost its stony appearance--stranger still, it smiled. it was illusion, of course, but he arose startled, and moved on with quickened step. the impression went with him. why the smile? he did not believe in images: much less did he believe in the virgin, except as she was the subject of a goodly story. and absorbed in the thought, he plodded on, leaving the sun to go down unnoticed. thereupon the shadows thickened in the woods at his left hand, while the sound of the incoming waves at his right increased as silence laid its velvet finger with a stronger compress on all other pulsations. here and there a star peeped timidly through the purpling sky--now it was dusk--a little later, it would be night--and yet no castle! he pushed on more vigorously; not that he was afraid--fear and the falcon of mahommed had never made acquaintance--but he began to think of a bed in the woods, and worse yet, he wanted the fast-going daylight to help him decide if the castle when he came to it were indeed the castle of his fathers. he had believed all along, if he could see the pile once, his memory would revive and help him to recognition. at last night fell, and there was darkness trebled on the land, and on the sea darkness, except where ghostly lines of light stretched themselves along the restless water. should he go on?... then he heard a bell--one soft tone near by and silvery clear. he halted. was it of the earth? a hush deeper of the sound--and he was wondering if another illusion were not upon him, when again the bell! "oh!" he muttered, "a trick of the monks in otranto! some soul is passing." he pressed forward, guided by the tolling. suddenly the trees fell away, and the road brought him to a stone wall heavily coped. on further, a blackened mass arose in dim relief against the sky, with heavy merlons on its top. "it is the embattled gate!" he exclaimed, to himself--"the embattled gate!--and here the beach!--and, o allah! the waves there are making the reports they used to!" the bell now tolled with awful distinctness, filling him with unwonted chills--tolled, as if to discourage his memory in its struggle to lift itself out of a lapse apparently intended to be final as the grave--tolled solemnly, as if his were the soul being rung into the next life. a rush of forebodings threatened him with paralysis of will, and it was only by a strong exertion he overcame it, and brought himself back to the situation, and the question, what next? now mirza was not a man to forego a purpose lightly. emotional, but not superstitious, he tried the sword, if it were loose in the scabbard, and then, advancing the point of his javelin, entered the darkened gallery of the gate. just as he emerged from it on the inner side, the bell tolled. "a moslem doth not well," he thought, silently repeating a saying of the _jadis_, "to accept a christian call to prayer; but," he answered in self-excuse, "i am not going to prayer--i am seeking"--he stopped, for very oddly, the face of the virgin in the stone box back in the angle of the road presented itself to him, and still more oddly, he felt firmer of purpose seeing again the smile on the face. then he finished the sentence aloud--"my mother _who is a christian._" there was a jar in the conclusion, and he went back to find it, and having found it, he was surprised. up to that moment, he had not thought of his mother a christian. how came the words in his mouth now? who prompted them? and while he was hastily pondering the effect upon her of the discovery that he himself was an islamite, the image in the box reoccurred to him, this time with the child in its arms; and thereupon the mystery seemed to clear itself at once. "mother and mother!" he said. "what if my coming were the answer of one of them to the other's prayer?" the idea affected him; his spirit softened; the heat of tears sprang to his eyelids; and the effort he made to rise above the unmanliness engaged him so he failed to see the other severer and more lasting struggle inevitable if the countess were indeed the being to whom he owed the highest earthly obligations--the struggle between natural affection and honor, as the latter lay coiled up in the ties binding him to mahommed. the condition, be it remarked, is ours; for from that last appearance of the image by the wayside--from that instant, marking a new era in his life--often as the night and its incidents recurred to him, he had never a doubt of his relationship to the countess. indeed, not only was she thenceforward his mother, but all the ground within the gate was his by natal right, and the castle was the very castle from which he had been carried away, over the body of his heroic father--_he was the count corti_! these observations will bring the reader to see more distinctly the emir's state after passing the gate. of the surroundings, he beheld nothing but shadows more or less dense and voluminous; the mournful murmuring of the wind told him they belonged to trees and shrubbery in clumps. the road he was on, although blurred, was serviceable as a guide, and he pursued it until brought to a building so masked by night the details were invisible. following its upper line, relieved against the gray sky, he made out a broken front and one tower massively battlemented. a pavement split the road in two; crossing it, he came to an opening, choked with timbers and bars of iron; surmisably the front portal at present in disuse. he needed no explanation of its condition. fire and battle were familiars of his. the bell tolled on. the sound, so passing sweet elsewhere, seemed to issue from the yawning portal, leaving him to fancy the interior a lumber of floors, galleries, and roofs in charred tumble down. mirza turned away presently, and took the left branch of the road; since he could not get into the castle, he would go around it; and in doing so, he borrowed from the distance traversed a conception of its immensity, as well as of the importance the countship must have enjoyed in its palmy days. at length he gained the rear of the great pile. the wood there was more open, and he was pleased with the sight of lights apparently gleaming through windows, from which he inferred a hamlet pitched on a broken site. then he heard singing; and listening, never had human voices seemed to him so impressively solemn. were they coming or going? ere long a number of candles, very tall, and screened from the wind by small lanterns of transparent paper, appeared on the summit of an ascent; next moment the bearers of the candles were in view--boys bareheaded and white frocked. as they began to descend the height, a bevy of friars succeeded them, their round faces and tonsured crowns glistening in ruddy contrast with their black habits. a choir of four singers, three men and one woman, followed the monks. then a linkman in half armor strode across the summit, lighting the way for a figure, also in black, which at once claimed mirza's gaze. as he stared at the figure, the account given him by the old captain in otranto flashed upon his memory. the widow of the murdered count had cleared a room in the castle, and fitted it up as a chapel, and every morning and evening she went thither to pray for the soul of her husband and the return of her lost boy. the words were alive with suggestions; but suggestions imply uncertainty; wherefore they are not a reason for the absolute conviction with which the emir now said to himself: "it is she--the countess--my mother!" there must be in every heart a store of prevision of which we are not aware--occasions bring it out with such sudden and bewildering effect. everything--hymn, tolling bell, lights, boys, friars, procession--was accessory to that veiled, slow-marching figure. and in habiliment, movement, air, with what telling force it impersonated sorrow! on the other hand, how deep and consuming the sorrow itself must be! she--he beheld only her--descended the height without looking up or around--a little stooped, yet tall and of dignified carriage--not old nor yet young--a noble woman worthy reverence. while he was making these comments, the procession reached the foot of the ascent; then the boys and friars came between, and hid her from his view. "o allah! and thou his prophet!" he exclaimed. "am i not to see her face? is she not to know me?" curiously the question had not presented itself before; neither when he resolved to come, nor while on the way. to say truth, he had been all the while intent on the one partial object--to see her. he had not anticipated the awakening the sight might have upon his feelings. "am i not to discover myself to her? is she never to know me?" he repeated. the lights in the hands of the boys were beginning to gleam along a beaten road a short distance in front of the agitated emir conducting to the castle. he divined at once that the countess was coming to the chapel for the usual evening service, and that, by advancing to the side of the road, he could get a near view of her as she passed. he started forward impulsively, but after a few steps stopped, trembling like a child imagining a ghost. now our conception of the man forbids us thinking him overcome by a trifle, whether of the air or in the flesh. a change so extreme must have been the work of a revelation of quick and powerful consequence--and it was, although the first mention may excite a smile. in the gleam of mental lightning--we venture on the term for want of another more descriptive--he had been reminded of the business which brought him to italy. let us pause here, and see what the reminder means; if only because the debonair mirza, with whom we have been well pleased, is now to become another person in name and character, commanding our sympathies as before, but for a very different reason. this was what the lightning gave him to see, and not darkly: if he discovered himself to the countess, he must expose his history from the night the rovers carried him away. true, the tale might be given generally, leaving its romance to thrill the motherly heart, and exalt him the more; for to whom are heroes always the greatest heroes? unhappily steps in confession are like links in a chain, one leads to another.... could he, a christian born, tell her he was an apostate? or if he told her, would it not be one more grief to the many she was already breaking under--one, the most unendurable? and as to himself, how could he more certainly provoke a forfeiture of her love?... she would ask--if but to thank god for mercies--to what joyful accident his return was owing? and then? alas! with her kiss on his brow, could he stand silent? more grievous yet, could he deceive her? if nothing is so murderous of self-respect as falsehood, a new life begun with a lie needs no prophet to predict its end. no, he must answer the truth. this conviction was the ghost which set him trembling. an admission that he was a moslem would wound her, yet the hope of his conversion would remain--nay, the labor in making the hope good might even renew her interest in life; but to tell her he was in italy to assist in the overthrow of a christian emperor for the exaltation of an infidel--god help him! was ever such a monster as he would then become in her eyes?... the consequences of that disclosure, moreover, were not to the countess and himself merely. with a sweep of wing one's fancy is alone capable of, he was borne back to the white castle, and beheld mahommed. when before did a prince, contemplating an achievement which was to ring the world, give trust with such absoluteness of faith? poor mirza! the sea rolled indefinitely wide between the white castle and this one of his fathers; across it, nevertheless, he again heard the words: "as thou art to be my other self, be it royally. kings never account to themselves." if they made betrayal horrible in thought, what would the fact be?... finally, last but not least of the reflections the lightning laid bare, the emir had been bred a soldier, and he loved war for itself and for the glory it offered unlike every other glory. was he to bid them both a long farewell? poor mirza! a few paragraphs back allusion was made to a struggle before him between natural affection on one hand and honor on the other. perhaps it was obscurely stated; if so, here it is amended, and stripped of conditions. he has found his mother. she is coming down the road--there, behind the dancing lights, behind the friars, she is coming to pray for him. should he fly her recognition or betray his confiding master? room there may be to say the alternatives were a judgment upon him, but who will deny him pity? ... there is often a suffering, sometimes an agony, in indecision more wearing than disease, deadlier than sword-cuts. the mournful pageant was now where its lights brought out parts of the face of the smoke-stained building. with a loud clang a door was thrown open, and a friar, in the black vestments usual in masses for the dead, came out to receive the countess. the interior behind him was dully illuminated. a few minutes more, and the opportunity to see her face would be lost. still the emir stood irresolute. judge the fierceness of the conflict in his breast! at last he moved forward. the acolytes, with their great candles of yellow wax, were going by as he gained the edge of the road. they looked at him wonderingly. the friars, in dominican cassocks, stared at him also. then the choir took its turn. the linkman at sight of him stopped an instant, then marched on. the emir really beheld none of them; his eyes and thoughts were in waiting; and now--how his heart beat!--how wistfully he gazed!--the countess was before him, not three yards away. her garments, as said, were all black. a thick veil enveloped her head; upon her breast her crossed hands shone ivory white. two or three times the right hand, in signing the cross, uncovered a ring upon the left--the wedding ring probably. her bearing was of a person not so old as persecuted by an engrossing anguish. she did not once raise her face. the emir's heart was full of prayer. "o allah! it is my mother! if i may not speak to her, or kiss her feet--if i may not call her mother--if i may not say, mother, mother, behold, i am thy son come back--still, as thou art the most merciful! let me see her face, and suffer her to see mine--once, o allah! once, if nevermore!" but the face remained covered--and so she passed, but in passing she prayed. though the voice was low, lie heard these words: "oh, sweet mother! by the blessed son of thy love and passion, remember mine, i beseech thee. be with him, and bring him to me quickly. miserable woman that i am!" the world, and she with it, swam in the tears he no longer tried to stay. stretching his arms toward her, he fell upon his knees, then upon his face; and that the face was in the dust, he never minded. when he looked up, she was gone on, the last of the procession. and he knew she had not seen him. he followed after. everybody stood aside to let her enter the door first. the friar received her; she went in, and directly the linkman stood alone outside. "stay!" said the linkman, peremptorily. "who art thou?" thus rudely challenged, the emir awoke from his daze--awoke with all his faculties clear. "a gentleman of otranto," he replied. "what is thy pleasure?" "admit me to the chapel." "thou art a stranger, and the service is private. or hast thou been invited?" "no." "thou canst not enter." again the world dropped into darkness before mirza; but this time it was from anger. the linkman never suspected his peril. fortunately for him, the voice of the female chorister issued from the doorway in tremulous melody. mirza listened, and became tranquillized. the voice sank next into a sweet unearthly pleading, and completely subdued, he began arguing with himself.... she had not seen him while he was in the dust at her side, and now this repulse at the door--how were they to be taken except as expressions of the will of heaven?... there was plenty of time--better go away, and return--perhaps to-morrow. he was not prepared to prove his identity, if it were questioned.... there would be a scene, and he shrank from it.... yes, better retire now.... and he turned to go. not six steps away, the countess reappeared to his excited mind, exactly as she had passed praying for him--reappeared-- ... "like the painting of a sorrow." a revulsion of feeling seized him--he halted. oh, the years she had mourned for him! her love was deep as the sea! tears again--and without thought of what he did--all aimlessly--he returned to the door. "this castle was sacked and burned by pirates, was it not?" he asked the linkman. "yes." "they slew the count corti?" "yes." "and carried off his son?" "yes." "had he other children?" "no." "what was the name of the boy?" "ugo." "well--in thy ear now--thou didst not well in shutting me out--_i am that ugo._" thereupon the emir walked resolutely away. a cry, shrill and broken, overtook him, issuing apparently from the door of the chapel--a second time he heard it, more a moan than a shriek--and thinking the linkman had given the alarm, he quickened his pace to a run, and was soon out on the beach. the breath of the sea was pleasant and assuring, and falling into a walk, he turned his face toward brindisi. but the cry pursued him. he imagined the scene in the chapel--the distress of the countess--the breaking up of the service--the hurry of question--a consultation, and possibly search for him. every person in the procession but the countess had seen him; so the only open point in the affair was the one of directest interest to her: was it her son? undoubtedly the suffering lady would not rest until investigation was exhausted. failing to find the stranger about the castle, horsemen might be sent out on the road. there is terrible energy in mother-love. these reflections stimulated the emir to haste. sometimes he even ran; only at the shrine of the virgin and child in the angle of the road did he halt. there he cast himself upon the friendly slab to recover breath. all this of course indicated a preference for mahommed. and now he came to a decision. he would proceed with the duty assigned him by the young master; then, at the end, he would come back, and assert himself in his native land. he sat on the slab an hour or more. at intervals the outcry, which he doubted not was his mother's, rang in his ears, and every time he heard it, conscience attacked him with its whip of countless stings. why subject her to more misery? for what other outcome could there be to the ceaseless contention of fears and hopes now hers? oh, if she had only seen him when he was so near her in the road! that she did not, was the will of allah, and the fatalistic mohammedan teaching brought him a measure of comfort. in further sooth, he had found a location and a title. thenceforward, and not fictitiously, he was the _count corti_; and so entitling himself, he determined to make brindisi, and take ship for genoa or venice in the morning before a messenger could arrive from the castle. as he arose from the slab, a bird in housel for the night flew out of the box. its small cheep reminded him of the smile he had fancied on the face of the madonna, and how, a little later, the smile had, with such timely suggestion of approval, woven itself into his thought of the countess. he looked up at the face again; but the night was over it like a veil, and he went nearer, and laid his hand softly on the child. that which followed was not a miracle; only a consequence of the wisdom which permits the enshrinement of a saintly woman and holy child as witnesses of the divine goodness to humanity. he raised himself higher in the box, and pushing aside a heap of faded floral offerings, kissed the foot of the taller image, saying: "thus would i have done to my mother." and when he had climbed down, and was in the road, it seemed some one answered him: "go thy way! god and allah are the same." we may now urge the narrative. from brindisi the emir sailed to venice. two weeks in "the glorious city in the sea" informed him of it thoroughly. while there, he found, on the "ways" of an adriatic builder, the galley in which we have seen him at anchor in the golden horn. leaving an order for the employment of a sailing-master and crew when the vessel was complete, he departed next for rome. at padua he procured the harness of a man-at-arms of the period, and recruited a company of _condottieri_--mercenary soldiers of every nationality. with all his sacerdotal authority, nicholas v., the holy father, was sorely tried in keeping his states. the freebooters who unctuously kissed his hand to-day, did not scruple, if opportunity favored, to plunder one of his towns tomorrow. it befell that count corti--so the emir styled himself--found a papal castle beleaguered by marauders, whom he dispersed, slaying their chief with his own hand. nicholas, in public audience, asked him to name the reward he preferred. "knighthood at thy hands, first of all things," was the reply. the holy father took a sword from one of his officers, and gave him the _accolade_. "what next, my son?" "i am tired fighting men who ought to be christians. give me, i pray, thy commission to make war upon the barbary pirates who infest the seas." this was granted him. "what next?" "nothing, holy father, but thy blessing, and a certificate in good form, and under seal, of these favors thou hast done me." the certificate and the blessing were also granted. the count then dismissed his lances, and, hastening to naples, embarked for venice. there he supplied himself with suits of the finest milanese armor he could obtain, and a wardrobe consisting of costumes such as were in vogue with the gay gallants along the grand canal. crossing to tripoli, he boarded a moorish merchantman, and made prisoners of the crew and rowers. the prize he gave to his christian sailors, and sent them home. summoning his prisoners on deck, he addressed them in arabic, offering them high pay if they would serve him, and they gratefully accepted his terms. the count then directed his prow to what is now aleppo, with the purpose of procuring arab horses; and having purchased five of the purest blood, he made sail for constantinople. we shall now, for a time, permit the title _emir_ to lapse. the knight we have seen on the deck of the new arrival in the golden horn viewing with melancholy interest the cities on either side of the fairest harbor on earth, is in easy english speech, _count corti_, the italian. thus far the count had been successful in his extraordinary mission, yet he was not happy. he had made three discoveries during his journey--his mother, his country, his religion. ordinarily these relations--if we may so call them--furnish men their greatest sum of contentment; sadly for him, however, he had made a fourth finding, of itself sufficient to dash all the others--in briefest term, he was not in condition to acknowledge either of them. unable to still the cry heard while retiring from his father's ruined castle, he surrendered himself more and more to the wisdom brought away from the box of the madonna and child in the angle of the road to brindisi--_god and allah are the same._ conscience and a growing sense of misappropriated life were making count corti a very different person from the light-hearted emir of mahommed. chapter v the princess irene in town an oblong room divided in the middle crosswise by two fluted pillars of pink-stained marble, light, delicately capped, and very graceful--between the pillars a segmental arch--between the walls and the pillars square ties;--the wall above the pillars elaborately scrolled;--three curtains of woollen stuff uniformly tyrian dyed filling the open places--the central curtain drawn to the pillars, and held there by silken ropes richly tasselled--the side curtains dropped;--a skylight for each division of the room, and under each skylight an ample brazier dispensing a comfortable degree of warmth;--floor laid in pink and saffron tiles;--chairs with and without arms, some upholstered, all quaintly carved--to each chair a rug harmoniously colored;--massive tables of carven wood, the tops of burnished copper inlaid with blocks of jasper, mostly red and yellow--on the tables murrhine pitchers vase-shaped, with crystal drinking goblets about them;--the skylights conical and of clear glass;--the walls panelled, a picture in every panel, and the raised margins and the whole space outside done in arabesque of studied involution;--doors opposite each other and bare;--such was the reception-room in the town-house of the princess irene arranged for the winter. on an armless chair in one of the divisions of the beautiful room, the princess sat, slightly bending over a piece of embroidery stretched upon a frame. what with the accessories about her--the chair, a small table at her right covered with the bright materials in use, the slanted frame, and a flexible lion's skin under her feet--she was a picture once seen never forgotten. the wonderful setting of the head and neck upon the phidian shoulders was admirably complemented by the long arms, bare, round, and of the whiteness of an almond kernel freshly broken, the hands, blue-veined and dimpled, and the fingers, tapering, pliant, nimble, rapid, each seemingly possessed of a separate intelligence. to the left of the princess, a little removed, lael half reclined against a heap of cushions, pale, languid, and not wholly recovered from the effects of the abduction by demedes, the terrible doom which had overtaken her father, and the disappearance of the prince of india, the latter unaccountable except upon the hypothesis of death in the great fire. the dying prayer of the son of jahdai had not failed with the princess irene. receiving the unfortunate girl from sergius the day after the rescue from the cistern, she accepted the guardianship, and from that hour watched and tended her with maternal solicitude. the other division of the room was occupied by attendants. they were visible through the opening left by the drawn curtain; yet it is not to be supposed they were under surveillance; on the contrary, their presence in the house was purely voluntary. they read, sang, accepted tasks in embroidery from their mistress, accompanied her abroad, loved her--in a word, their service was in every respect compatible with high rank, and in return they derived a certain education from her. for by universal acknowledgment she was queen and arbiter in the social world of byzantium; in manner the mirror, in taste and fashion its very form. indeed, she was the subject of but one objection--her persistent protest against the encumbrance of a veil. with all her grave meditation, she never lectured her attendants, knowing probably that sermons in example are more impressive than sermons in words. in illustration of the freedom they enjoyed in her presence and hearing, one of them, behind the curtain, touched a stringed instrument--a cithern--and followed the prelude with a song of anacreontic vein. the golden noon. if my life were but a day-- one morn, one night, with a golden noon for play, and i, of right, could say what i would do with it--what would i do? penance to me--e'en the stake, and late or soon!-- yet would love remain to make that golden noon delightful--i would do-- ah, love, what would i do? and when the singer ceased there was a merry round of applause. the ripple thus awakened had scarcely subsided, when the ancient lysander opened one of the doors, and, after ringing the tiled floor with the butt of his javelin, and bowing statelywise, announced sergius. taking a nod from the princess, he withdrew to give the visitor place. sergius went first to irene, and silently kissed her hand; then, leaving her to resume work, he drew a chair to lael's side. under his respectful manner there was an ease which only an assurance of welcome could have brought him. this is not to be taken in the sense of familiarity; if he ever indulged that vulgarism--something quite out of character with him--it was not in his intercourse with the princess. she did not require formality; she simply received courtesy from everybody, even the emperor, as a natural tribute. at the same time, sergius was nearer in her regard than any other person, for special reasons. we have seen the sympathetic understanding between the two in the matter of religion. we have seen, also, why she viewed him as a protege. never had one presented himself to her so gentle and unconventional never one knowing so little of the world. with life all before him, with its ways to learn, she saw he required an adviser through a period of tutelage, and assumed the relation partly through a sense of duty, partly from reverent recollection of father hilarion. these were arguments sound in themselves; but two others had recently offered. in the first place she was aware of the love which had arisen between the monk and lael. she had not striven to spy it out. like children, they had affected no disguise of their feeling; and while disallowing the passion a place in her own breast, she did not deprecate or seek to smother it in others. far from that, in these, her wards, so to speak, it was with her an affair of permissive interest. they were so lovable, it seemed an order of nature they should love each other. next, the world was dealing harshly with sergius; and though he strove manfully to hide the fact, she saw he was suffering. he deserved well, she thought, for his rescue of lael, and for the opportunity given the emperor to break up the impiety founded by demedes. unhappily her opinion was not subscribed in certain quarters. the powerful brotherhood of the st. james' amongst others was in an extreme state of exasperation with him. they insisted he could have achieved the rescue without the death of the greek. they went so far as to accuse him of a double murder--of the son first, then of the father. a terrible indictment! and they were bold and open-mouthed. out of respect for the emperor, who was equally outspoken in commendation of sergius, they had not proceeded to the point of expulsion. the young man was still of the brotherhood; nevertheless he did not venture to exercise any of the privileges of a member. his cell was vacant. the five services of the day were held in the chapel without him. in short, the brotherhood were in wait for an opportunity to visit him with their vengeance. in hope of a favorable turn in the situation, he wore the habit of the order, but it was his only outward sign of fraternity. without employment, miserable, he found lodgment in the residence of the patriarch, and what time he was not studying, he haunted the old churches of the city, sancta sophia in especial, and spent many hours a dreaming voyager on the bosphorus. the glad look which shone in the eyes of the invalid when sergius took seat by her was very noticeable; and when she reached him her hand, the kiss he left upon it was of itself a declaration of tender feeling. "i hope my little friend is better, to-day," he said, gravely. "yes, much better. the princess says i may go out soon--the first real spring day." "that is good news. i wish i could hurry the spring. i have everything ready to take you on the water--a perfect boat, and two master rowers. yesterday they carried me to the black sea and back, stopping for a lunch of bread and figs at the foot of the giants' mountain. they boast they can repeat the trip often as there are days in the week." "did you stop at the white castle?" she asked, with a smile. "no. our noble princess was not with me; and in her absence, i feared the governor might forget to be polite as formerly." the gracious lady, listening, bent lower over the frame before her. she knew so much more of the governor than lael did! but lael then inquired: "where have you been to-day?" "well, my little friend, let me see if i can interest you.... this morning i awoke betimes, and set myself to study. oh, those chapters of john--the fourteenth, fifteenth and sixteenth. there is no need of religious knowledge beyond them. of the many things they make clear, this is the clearest--the joys of eternal life lie in the saying of the lord, 'i am the way, and the truth, and the life; no man cometh unto the father but by me.' ... after my hours of study, i went to see an old church over in the low garden grounds beyond the aqueduct. before i could get through the doorway, a flock of goats had to pass out. i will tell his serenity what i beheld. better the wreck be cleaned from the face of the earth than desecrated. holy ground once, holy ground forever." "where is the church?" the princess inquired. "in the low grounds between the aqueduct, and the gates of st. romain and adrianople." "it belongs to one of the brotherhoods. they have farming right in the soil." "i am sorry to hear it." as she turned to her work again, he went on with his account of himself. "i had then two hours and more till noon, and was at loss what to do. finally i decided to go to the port of blacherne--a long walk, but not too long, considering my motive.... princess, have you heard of the italian newly arrived?" "what of him, pray?" "he is the talk of the city, and if the half told of him be true, we must needs wonder. he travels in his own ship. merchants have that habit, but he is not a merchant. kings do so, but he is not a king. he came in saluting with a gun, in style becoming a great admiral; but if he is an admiral, his nationality is a secret. he also flies an unknown flag. they report him further as standing much on his deck in a suit of armor glistening like silver. and what is he? mouth speaketh unto mouth, with no one to answer. they go then to his ship, pronouncing it the most perfect thing of the kind ever seen in the harbor. those who have rowed around it say the sailors are not white men, but dark-faced creatures in turbans and black beards, un-christian and ugly-looking. fishermen and fruiterers have been permitted on deck--nobody else--and they, returning alive, say the rowers, of whom they caught glimpses, are blacker than the sailors. they also overheard strange noises below--voices not human." the countenance of the princess during this recital gradually changed; she seemed disposed to laugh at the exaggerations of the populace. "so much for town-talk," sergius continued. "to get sight of the ship, and of the mysterious magnate, i walked across the city to the port of blacherne, and was well rewarded. i found the ship drawn in to the quay, and the work of unloading her in progress. parties of porters were attacking heaps of the cargo already on the landing. where they were taking the goods i could not learn. i saw five horses lifted out of the hold, and led ashore over a bridge dropped from the vessel's side. such horses i never before beheld. two were grays, two bays, and one chestnut-colored. they looked at the sun with wide-open unwinking eyes; they inhaled the air as it were something to drink; their coats shone like silk; their manes were soft like the hair of children; their tails flared out in the breeze like flags; and everybody exclaimed: 'arabs, arabs!' there was a groom for each horse--tall men, lean, dust-hued, turbaned, and in black gowns. at sight of the animals, an old persian who, from his appearance, might have been grandfather of the grooms, begged permission--i could not understand the tongue he used--put his arms around the necks of the animals, and kissed them between the eyes, his own full of tears the while. i suppose they reminded him of his own country.... then two officers from the palace, representatives doubtless of the emperor, rode out of the gate in armor, and immediately the stranger issued from his cabin, and came ashore. i confess i lost interest in the horses, although he went to them and scanned them over, lifting their feet and tapping their hoofs with the handle of a dagger. by that time the two officers were dismounted; and approaching with great ceremony, they notified him they had been sent by his majesty to receive and conduct him to assigned quarters. he replied to them in excellent greek, acknowledging his majesty's graciousness, and the pleasure he would have in their escort. from the cabin, two of his men brought a complete equipment, and placed it on the chestnut steed. the furniture was all sheen of satin and gold. another attendant brought his sword and shield; and after the sword was buckled around him, and the shield at his back, he took hold of the saddle with both hands, and swung himself into the seat with an ease remarkably in contrast with the action of his greek conductors, who, in mounting, were compelled to make use of their stirrups. the cavalcade then passed the gate into the city." "you saw him closely?" lael asked. "to get to his horse, he passed near me as i am to you, my little friend." "what did he wear?" "oh, he was in armor. a cap of blue steel, with a silver spike on the crown--neck and shoulders covered with a hood of mail--body in a shirt of mail, a bead of silver in each link--limbs to the knees in mail. from the knees down there were splints of steel inlaid with silver; his shoes were of steel, and on the heels long golden spurs. the hood was clasped under the chin, leaving the face exposed--a handsome face, eyes black and bright, complexion olive, though slightly bloodless, expression pleasant." "how old is he?" "twenty-six or seven. altogether he reminded me of what i have heard of the warriors who used to go crusading." "what following had he?" this was from the princess. "i can only speak of what i saw--of the keepers of the horses, and of the other men, whom, in my unfamiliarity with military fashions, i will call equerry, armorer, and squire or page. what accounting is to be made of the ship's company, i leave, o princess, to your better knowledge." "my inquiry was of his personal suite." "then i cannot give you a better answer; but if i may say so much, the most unusual thing observable in his followers was, they were all orientals--not one of them had a christian appearance." "well"--and the princess laid her needle down for the first time--"i see how easily a misunderstanding of the stranger may get abroad. let me tell what i know of him.... directly he arrived, he despatched a letter to his majesty, giving an account of himself. he is a soldier by profession, and a christian; has spent much time in the holy land, where he acquired several eastern languages; obtained permission from the pontiff nicholas to make war on the african pirates; manned his galley with captives; and, not wishing to return to his native land and engage in the baronial wars which prevail there at present, he offered his services to his majesty. he is an italian nobleman, entitled _count corti,_ and submitted to his majesty a certificate, under the hand and seal of the holy father, showing that the holy father knighted him, and authorized his crusade against the infidels. the preference for a following composed of orientals is singular; but after all, it is only a matter of taste. the day may come, dear sergius, when the christian world will disapprove his method of getting title to servants; but it is not here now.... if further discussion of the count takes place in your presence, you are at liberty to tell what i tell you. at blacherne yesterday i had the particulars, together with the other circumstance, that the emperor gladly accepted the italian's overture, and assigned him quarters in the palace of julian, with leave to moor his galley in the port there. few noble foreigners have sought our empire bringing better recommendations." the fair lady then took up her needle, and was resuming work, when lysander entered, and, after thumping the floor, announced: "three o'clock." the princess silently arose, and passed out of the room; at the same time there was a commotion behind the curtain, and presently the other apartment was vacated. sergius lingered a moment. "tell me now of yourself," lael said, giving him her hand. he kissed the hand fondly, and replied: "the clouds still hang low and dark over me; but my faith is not shaken; they will blow away; and in the meantime, dear little friend, the world is not all cheerless--you love me." "yes, i love you," she said, with childish simplicity. "the brotherhood has elected a new hegumen," he continued. "a good man, i hope." "the violence with which he denounced me was the chief argument in his favor. but god is good. the emperor, the patriarch, and the princess irene remain steadfast. against them the hegumen will be slow in proceeding to my expulsion. i am not afraid. i will go on doing what i think right. time and patience are good angels to the unjustly accused. but that any one should hold it a crime to have rescued you--o little friend, dear soul! see the live coal which does not cease burning!" "and nilo?" "he wants nothing in the way of comforts." "i will go see the poor man the first thing when i get out." "his cell in the cynegion is well furnished. the officer in charge has orders direct from the emperor to see that he suffers no harm. i saw him day before yesterday. he does not know why he is a prisoner, but behaves quietly. i took him a supply of tools, and he passes the time making things in use in his country, mostly implements of war and hunting. the walls of his cell are hung with bows, arrows and lances of such curious form that there is always quite a throng to see them. he actually divides honor with tamerlane, the king of the lions." "it should be a very noble lion, for that." sergius, seeing her humor, went on: "you say truly, little friend. he has in hand a net of strong thread and thousands of meshes already. 'what is it for?' i asked. in his pantomimic way he gave me to understand: 'in my country we hunt lions with it.' 'how?' said i. and he showed me two balls of lead, one in each corner of the net. taking the balls in his hands: 'now we are in front of the game--now it springs at us--up they go this way.' he gave the balls a peculiar toss which sent them up and forward on separating lines. the woven threads spread out in the air like a yellow mist, and i could see the result--the brute caught in the meshes, and entangled. then the brave fellow proceeded with his pantomime. he threw himself to one side out of the way of the leap--drew a sword, and stabbed and stabbed--and the triumph in his face told me plainly enough. 'there--he is dead!' just now he is engaged on another work scarcely less interesting to him. a dealer in ivory sent him an elephant's tusk, and he is covering it with the story of a campaign. you see the warriors setting out on the march--in another picture they are in battle--a cloud of arrows in flight--shields on arm--bows bent--and a forest of spears. from the large end he is working down toward the point. the finish will be a victory, and a return with captives and plunder immeasurable.... he is well cared for; yet he keeps asking me about his master the prince of india. where is he? when will he come? when he turns to that subject i do not need words from him. his soul gets into his eyes. i tell him the prince is dead. he shakes his head: 'no, no!' and sweeping a circle in the air, he brings his hands to his breast, as to say: 'no, he is travelling--he will come back for me.'" sergius had become so intent upon the description that he lost sight of his hearer; but now a sob recalled him. bending lower over the hand, he caressed it more assiduously than ever, afraid to look into her face. when at length the sobbing ceased, he arose and said, shamefacedly: "o dear little friend, you forgive me, do you not?" from his manner one would have thought he had committed an offence far out of the pale of condonement. "poor sergius," she said. "it is for me to think of you, not you of me." he tried to look cheerful. "it was stupid in me. i will be more careful. your pardon is a sweet gift to take away.... the princess is going to sancta sophia, and she may want me. to-morrow--until to-morrow--good-by." this time he stooped, and kissed her on the forehead; next moment she was alone. chapter vi count corti in sancta sophia the palace of julian arose the chief embellishment of a large square enclosure on the sea front southeast of the landmark at present called the burnt column, and, like other imperial properties of the kind, it was an aggregation of buildings irregular in form and style, and more or less ornate and imposing. a garden stretched around it. the founder, wanting private harborage for his galleys and swarm of lesser boats, dug a basin just inside the city wall, and flooded it with pure marmoran water; then, for ingress and egress at his sovereign will, he slashed the wall, and of the breach made the _port of julian_. [footnote: only a shallow depression in the ground, faintly perpetuating the outlines of the harbor, now marks the site of this royal residence.] count corti found the palace well preserved in and out. he had not purposed hiding himself, yet it was desirable to keep his followers apart much as possible; and for that a situation more to his wish could scarcely have been chosen in the capital. issuing from the front door, a minute's walk through a section of the garden brought him to a stairway defended on both sides with massive balustrading. the flight ended in a spacious paved landing; whence, looking back and up, he could see two immense columnar pedestals surmounted by statues, while forward extended the basin, a sheet of water on which, white and light as a gull, his galley rested. he had but to call the watchman on its deck, and a small boat would come to him in a trice. he congratulated himself upon the lodgement. the portion of the palace assigned him was in the south end; and, although he enlisted a number of skilful upholsterers, a week and more was industriously taken with interior arrangements for himself, and in providing for the comfort and well-being of his horses; for it is to be said in passing, he had caught enough of the spirit of the nomadic turk to rate the courser which was to bear him possibly through foughten fields amongst the first in his affections. in this preparation, keeping the scheme to which his master had devoted him ever present, he required no teaching to point out the policy of giving his establishment an air of permanence as well as splendor. occupied as he was, he had nevertheless snatched time to look in upon the hippodrome, and walk once around the bucoleon and sancta sophia. from a high pavilion overhanging his quarters, he had surveyed the stretches of city in the west and southwest, sensible of a lively desire to become intimately acquainted with the bizarre panorama of hills behind hills, so wonderfully house and church crowned. to say truth, however, the count was anxious to hear from the sultan before beginning a career. the man who was to be sent to him might appear any hour, making it advisable to keep close home. he had a report of the journey to italy, and of succeeding events, including his arrival at constantinople, ready draughted, and was impatient to forward it. a word of approval from mahommed would be to him like a new spirit given. he counted upon it as a cure for his melancholia. viewing the galley one day, he looked across the basin to where the guard of the port was being changed, and was struck with the foreign air of the officer of the relief. this, it happened, was singularly pertinent to a problem which had been disturbing his active mind--how he could most safely keep in communication with mahommed, or, more particularly, how the sultan's messenger could come with the most freedom and go with the least hindrance. a solution now presented itself. if the emperor intrusted the guardianship of the gate to one foreigner, why not to another? in other words, why not have the duty committed to himself and his people? not improbably the charge might be proposed to him; he would wait awhile, and see; if, however, he had to formally request it, could anything be more plausibly suggestive than the relation between the captaincy of that port and residence in the palace of julian? the idea was too natural to be refused; if granted, he was master of the situation. it would be like holding the keys of the city. he could send out and admit as need demanded; and then, if flight became imperative, behold a line of retreat! here was his galley--yonder the way out. while he pondered the matter, a servant brought him notice of an officer from blacherne in waiting. responding immediately, he found our ancient friend the dean in the reception room, bringing the announcement that his majesty the emperor had appointed audience for him next day at noon; or, if the hour was not entirely convenient, would the count be pleased to designate another? his majesty was aware of the attention needful to a satisfactory settlement in strange quarters, and had not interrupted him earlier; for which he prayed pardon. the count accepted the time set; after which he conducted his visitor through his apartments, omitting none of them; from the kitchen he even carried him to the stable, whence he had the horses brought one by one. hospitality and confidence could go no further, and he was amply rewarded. the important functionary was pleased with all he saw, and with nothing more than corti himself. there could not be a doubt of the friendliness of the report he would take back to blacherne. in short, the count's training in a court dominated by suspicion to a greater degree even than the court in constantinople was drawn upon most successfully. a glass of wine at parting redolent with the perfume of the richest italian vintage fixed the new-comer's standing in the dean's heart. if there had been the least insufficiency in the emblazoned certificate of the holy father, here was a swift witness in confirmation. the day was destined to be eventful to the count. while he was entertaining the dean, the men on the deck of the galley, unused to byzantine customs, were startled by a cry, long, swelling, then mournfully decadent. glancing in the direction from which it came, they saw a black boat sweeping through the water-way of the port. a man of dubious complexion, tall and lithe, his scant garments originally white, now stiff with dirt of many hues, a ragged red head-cloth illy confining his coarse black hair, stood in the bow shouting, and holding up a wooden tray covered with fish. the sentinel to whom he thus offered the stock shook his head, but allowed him to pass. at the galley's side there was an interchange of stares between the sailors and the fishermen--such the tenants of the black craft were--leaving it doubtful which side was most astonished. straightway the fellow in the bow opened conversation, trying several tongues, till finally he essayed the arabic. "who are you?" "sailors." "where from?" "tripoli." "children of the prophet?" "we believe in allah and the last day, and observe prayer, and pay the appointed alms, and dread none but allah; we are among the rightly guided." [footnote: koran, ix. .] "blessed be allah! may his name be exalted here and everywhere!" the fisherman returned; adding immediately: "whom serve you?" "a _scherif_ from italy." "how is he called?" "the count." "where is he?" "in the palace yonder." "a christian?" "a christian with an eastern tongue; and he knows the hours of prayer, and observes them." "does he reside here?" "he is lord of the palace." "when did he arrive?" "since the moon fulled." "does he want fish?" the men on the ship laughed. "go ask him." "that is his landing there?" "yes." "all men who live down by the sea eat fish--when they can get them," the dealer said, solemnly. turning then to his rowers, he bade them: "forward to the landing." there he stepped out, dextrously balanced the tray on his head, ascended the stairs, and in front of the great house went persistently from door to door until he came to that of the count. "fish?" he asked the man who answered his knock. "i will see." the doorkeeper returned shortly, and said, "no." "are you a moslem?" the fisherman inquired. "yes. blessed be allah for the right understanding!" "so am i. now let me see the master. i want to furnish him with fish for the season." "he is engaged." "i will wait for him. tell him my catch is this morning's--red mullets and choice cuts from a royal sword-fish that leaped ten feet in the air with the spear in his back." thereupon he deposited the tray, and took seat by it, much as to say, time is of no consequence to me. ere long the count appeared with the dean. he glanced at the tray, then at the fisherman--to the latter he gave a second look. "what beautiful fish!" he said, to the dean. "yes, yes--there are no fish pastures like those of our bosphorus." "how do you call this kind?" "mullets--red mullets. the old romans used to fatten them in tanks." "i thought i had seen their like on our italian coasts. how do you prepare them for the table?" "we fry them, count, in olive oil--pure oil." all this time corti was studying the fisherman. "what meal, pray, will fashion allow them to me dished?" he went on. "for breakfast especially; though when you come to dine with his majesty do not be surprised to see them early in course." "pardon the detention, my lord--i will make trial of these in the morning." then to the fisherman the count said, carelessly: "keep thy place until i return." corti saw the dean out of the eastern gate of the enclosure, and returned. "what, still here!" he said, to the dealer. "well, go with the doorkeeper to the kitchen. the cook will take what he needs for to-morrow." speaking to the doorkeeper then: "bring the man to me. i am fond of fishing, and should like to talk with him about his methods. sometime he may be willing to take me with him." by and by the monger was shown into the count's room, where there was a table, with books and writing material--a corner room full lighted by windows in the south and east. when they were alone, the two gazed at each other. "ali, son of abed-din!" said the count. "is it thou?" "o emir! all of me that is not fish is the ali thou hast named." "god is great!" the first exclaimed. "blessed be god!" the other answered. they were acquaintances of long standing. then ali took the red rag from his head, and from its folds produced a strip of fine parchment with writing on it impervious to water. "behold, emir! it is for thee." the count received the scrip and read: "this is he i promised to send. he has money for thee. thou mayst trust him. tell me this time of thyself first; then of her; but always after of her first. my soul is scorching with impatience." there was no date to the screed nor was it signed; yet the count put it to his forehead and lips. he knew the writing as he knew his own hand. "o ali!" he said, his eyes aglow. "hereafter thou shalt be ali the faithful, son of abed-din the faithful." ali replied with a rueful look: "it is well. what a time i have had waiting for you! much i fear my bones will never void the damps blown into them by the winter winds, and i perched on the cross-sticks of a floating _dallyan_.... i have money for you, o emir! and the keeping it has given me care more than enough to turn another man older than his mother. i will bring it to-morrow; after which i shall say twenty prayers to the prophet--blessed be his name!--where now i say one." "no, not to-morrow, ali, but the day after when thou bringest me another supply of fish. there is danger in coming too often--and for that, thou must go now. staying too long is dangerous as coming too often.... but tell me of our master. is he indeed the sultan of sultans he promised to be? is he well? where is he? what is he doing?" "not so fast, o emir, not so fast, i pray you! better a double mouthful of stale porpoise fat, with a fin bone in it, than so many questions at once." "oh, but i have been so long in the slow-moving christian world without news!" "verily, o emir, padishah mahommed will be greatest of the _gabour_ eaters since padishah othman--that to your first. he is well. his bones have reached their utmost limit, but his soul keeps growing--that to your second. he holds himself at adrianople. men say he is building mosques. i say he is building cannon to shoot bullets big as his father's tomb; when they are fired, the faithful at medina will hear the noise, and think it thunder--that to your third. and as to his doing--getting ready for war, meaning business for everybody, from the shiek-ul-islam to the thieving tax-farmers of bagdad--to the kislar-jinn of abad-on with them. he has the census finished, and now the pachas go listing the able-bodied, of whom they have half a million, with as many more behind. they say the young master means to make a _sandjak_ of unbelieving europe." "enough, ali!--the rest next time." the count went to the table, and from a secret drawer brought a package wrapped in leather, and sealed carefully. "this for our lord--exalted be his name! how wilt thou take it?" ali laughed. "in my tray to the boat, but the fish are fresh, and there are flowers of worse odor in cashmere. so, o emir, for this once. next time, and thereafter, i will have a hiding-place ready." "now, ali, farewell. thy name shall be sweet in our master's ears as a girl-song to the moon of ramazan. i will see to it." ali took the package, and hid it in the bosom of his dirty shirt. when he passed out of the front door, it lay undistinguishable under the fish and fish meat; and he whispered to the count in going: "i have an order from the governor of the white castle for my unsold stock. god is great!" corti, left alone, flung himself on a chair. he had word from mahommed--that upon which he counted so certainly as a charm in counteraction of the depression taking possession of his spirit. there it was in his hand, a declaration of confidence unheard of in an oriental despot. yet the effect was wanting. even as he sat thinking the despondency deepened. he groped for the reason in vain. he strove for cheer in the big war of which ali had spoken--in the roar of cannon, like thunder in medina--in europe a sultanic _sandjak_. he could only smile at the exaggeration. in fact, his trouble was the one common to every fine nature in a false position. his business was to deceive and betray--whom? the degradation was casting its shadow before. heaven help when the eclipse should be full! for relief he read the screed again: "tell me this time of thyself first; then of _her_." ... ah, yes, the kinswoman of the emperor! he must devise a way to her acquaintance, and speedily. and casting about for it, he became restless, and finally resolved to go out into the city. he sent for the chestnut arab, and putting on the steel cap and golden spurs had from the holy father was soon in the saddle. it was about three o'clock afternoon, with a wind tempered to mildness by a bright sun. the streets were thronged, while the balconies and overhanging windows had their groups on the lookout for entertainment and gossip. as may be fancied the knightly rider and gallant barb, followed by a dark-skinned, turbaned servant in moorish costume, attracted attention. neither master nor man appeared to give heed to the eager looks and sometimes over-loud questions with which they were pursued. turning northward presently, the count caught sight of the dome of sancta sophia. it seemed to him a vast, upturned silver bowl glistening in the sky, and he drew rein involuntarily, wondering how it could be upheld; then he was taken with a wish to go in, and study the problem. having heard from mahommed, he was lord of his time, and here was noble diversion. in front of the venerable edifice, he gave his horse to the dark-faced servant, and entered the outer court unattended. a company, mixed apparently of every variety of persons, soldiers, civilians, monks, and women, held the pavement in scattered groups; and while he halted a moment to survey the exterior of the building, cold and grimly plain from cornice to base, he became himself an object of remark to them. about the same time a train of monastics, bareheaded, and in long gray gowns, turned in from the street, chanting monotonously, and in most intensely nasal tones. the count, attracted by their pale faces, hollow eyes and unkept beards, waited for them to cross the court. unkept their beards certainly were, but not white. this was the beginning of the observation he afterward despatched to mahommed: only the walls of byzantium remain for her defence; the church has absorbed her young men; the sword is discarded for the rosary. nor could he help remarking that whereas the _frati_ of italy were fat, rubicund, and jolly, these seemed in search of death through the severest penitential methods. his thought recurring to the house again, he remembered having heard how every hour of every day from five o'clock in the morning to midnight was filled with religious service of some kind in sancta sophia. a few stone steps the full length of the court led up to five great doors of bronze standing wide open; and as the train took one of the latter and began to disappear, he chose another, and walked fast in order to witness the entry. brought thus into the immense vestibule, he stopped, and at once forgot the gray brethren. look where he might, at the walls, and now up to the ceiling, every inch of space wore the mellowed brightness of mosaic wrought in cubes of glass exquisitely graduated in color. what could he do but stand and gaze at the christ in the act of judging the world? such a cartoon had never entered his imagination. the train was gone when he awoke ready to proceed. there were then nine doors also of bronze conducting from the vestibule. the central and larger one was nearest him. pushed lightly, it swung open on noiseless hinges; a step or two, and he stood in the nave or auditorium of the holy house. the reader will doubtless remember how duke vlodomir, the grandson of olga, the russian, coming to constantinople to receive a bride, entered sancta sophia the first time, and from being transfixed by what he saw and heard, fell down a convert to christianity. not unlike was the effect upon corti. in a sense he, too, was an unbeliever semi-barbaric in education. many were the hours he had spent with mahommed while the latter, indulging his taste, built palaces and mosques on paper, striving for vastness and original splendor. but what was the prince's utmost achievement in comparison with this interior? had it been an ocean grotto, another caprian cave, bursting with all imaginable revelations of light and color, he could not have been more deeply impressed. without architectural knowledge; acquainted with few of the devices employed in edificial construction, and still less with the mysterious power of combination peculiar to genius groping for effects in form, dimensions, and arrangement of stone on stone with beautiful and sublime intent; yet he had a soul to be intensely moved by such effects when actually set before his eyes. he walked forward slowly four or five steps from the door, looking with excited vision--not at details or to detect the composition of any of the world of objects constituting the view, or with a thought of height, breadth, depth, or value--the marbles of the floor rich in multiformity and hues, and reflective as motionless water, the historic pillars, the varied arches, the extending galleries, the cornices, friezes, balustrades, crosses of gold, mosaics, the windows and interlacing rays of light, brilliance here, shadows yonder--the apse in the east, and the altar built up in it starry with burning candles and glittering with prismatic gleams shot from precious stones and metals in every conceivable form of grace--lamps, cups, vases, candlesticks, cloths, banners, crucifixes, canopies, chairs, madonnas, child christs and christs crucified--and over all, over lesser domes, over arches apparently swinging in the air, broad, high, near yet far away, the dome of sancta sophia, defiant of imitation, like unto itself alone, a younger sky within the elder--these, while he took those few steps, merged and ran together in a unity which set his senses to reeling, and made question and thought alike impossible. how long the count stood thus lost to himself in the glory and greatness of the place, he never knew. the awakening was brought about by a strain of choral music, which, pouring from the vicinity of the altar somewhere, flooded the nave, vast as it was, from floor to dome. no voice more fitting could be imagined; and it seemed addressing itself to him especially. he trembled, and began to think. first there came to him a comparison in which the kaaba was a relative. he recalled the day he fell dying at the corner under the black stone. he saw the draped heap funereally dismal in the midst of the cloisters. how bare and poor it seemed to him now! he remembered the visages and howling of the demoniac wretches struggling to kiss the stone, though with his own kiss he had just planted it with death. how different the worship here! ... this, he thought next, was his mother's religion. and what more natural than that he should see that mother descending to the chapel in her widow's weeds to pray for him? tears filled his eyes. his heart arose chokingly in his throat. why should not her religion be his? it was the first time he had put the question to himself directly; and he went further with it. what though allah of the islamite and jehovah of the hebrew were the same?--what though the koran and the bible proceeded from the same inspiration?--what though mahomet and christ were alike sons of god? there were differences in the worship, differences in the personality of the worshippers. why, except to allow every man a choice according to his ideas of the proper and best in form and companionship? and the spirit swelled within him as he asked, who are my brethren? they who stole me from my father's house, who slew my father, who robbed my mother of the lights of life, and left her to the darkness of mourning and the bitterness of ungratified hope--were not they the brethren of my brethren? at that moment an old man appeared before the altar with assistants in rich canonicals. one placed on the elder's head what seemed a crown all a mass of flaming jewels; another laid upon him a cloak of cloth of gold; a third slipped a ring over one of his fingers; whereupon the venerable celebrant drew nearer the altar, and, after a prayer, took up a chalice and raised it as if in honor to an image of christ on a cross in the agonies of crucifixion. then suddenly the choir poured its triumphal thunder abroad until the floor, and galleries, and pendant lamps seemed to vibrate. the assistants and worshippers sank upon their knees, and ere he was aware the count was in the same attitude of devotion. the posture consisted perfectly with policy, his mission considered. soon or late he would have to adopt every form and observance of christian worship. in this performance, however, there was no premeditation, no calculation. in his exaltation of soul he fancied he heard a voice passing with the tempestuous jubilation of the singers: "on thy knees, o apostate! on thy knees! god is here!" but his was a combative nature; and coming to himself, and not understanding clearly the cause of his prostration, he presently arose. of the worshippers in sight, he alone was then standing, and the sonorous music ringing on, he was beginning to doubt the propriety of his action, when a number of women, unobserved before, issued from a shaded corner at the right of the apse, fell into processional order, and advanced slowly toward him. one moved by herself in front. a reflection of her form upon the polished floor lent uncertainty to her stature, and gave her an appearance of walking on water. those following were plainly her attendants. they were all veiled; while a white mantle fell from her left shoulder, its ends lost in the folds of the train of her gown, leaving the head, face, and neck bare. her manner, noticeable in the distance even, was dignified without hauteur, simple, serious, free of affectation. she was not thinking of herself.... nearer--he heard no foot-fall. now and then she glided through slanting rays of soft, white light cast from upper windows, and they seemed to derive ethereality from her.... nearer--and he could see the marvellous pose of the head, and the action of the figure, never incarnation more graceful.... yet nearer--he beheld her face, in complexion a child's, in expression a woman's. the eyes were downcast, the lips moved. she might have been the theme of the music sweeping around her in acclamatory waves, drowning the part she was carrying in suppressed murmur. he gazed steadfastly at the countenance. the light upon the forehead was an increasing radiance, like a star's refined by passage through the atmospheres of infinite space. a man insensitive to beauty in woman never was, never will be. vows cannot alter nature; neither can monkish garbs nor years; and it is knowledge of this which makes every woman willing to last sacrifices for the gift; it is power to her, vulgarizing accessories like wealth, coronets and thrones. with this confession in mind, words are not needed to inform the reader of the thrills which assailed the count while the marvel approached. the service was over as to her, and she was evidently seeking to retire by the main door; but as he stood in front of it, she came within two or three steps before noticing him. then she stopped suddenly, astonished by the figure in shining armor. a flush overspread her face; smiling at her alarm, she spoke: "i pray pardon, sir knight, for disturbing thy devotions." "and i, fair lady, am grateful to heaven that it placed me in thy way to the door unintentionally." he stepped aside, and she passed on and out. the interior of the church, but a minute before so overwhelmingly magnificent and impressive, became commonplace and dull. the singing rolled on unheard. his eyes fixed on the door through which she went; his sensations were as if awakening from a dream in which he had seen a heavenly visitant, and been permitted to speak to it. the spell ceased with the music; then, with swift returning sense, he remembered mahommed's saying: "thou wilt know her at sight." and he knew her--the _her_ of the screed brought only that day by ali. nor less distinctly did he recall every incident of the parting with mahommed, every word, every injunction--the return of the ruby ring, even then doubtless upon the imperious master's third finger, a subject of hourly study--the further speech, "they say whoever looketh at her is thenceforward her lover"--and the final charge, with its particulars, concluding: "forget not that in constantinople, when i come, i am to receive her from thy hand peerless in all things as i left her." his shoes of steel were strangely heavy when he regained his horse at the edge of the court. for the first time in years, he climbed into the saddle using the stirrup like a man reft of youth. he would love the woman--he could not help it. did not every man love her at sight? the idea colored everything as he rode slowly back to his quarters. dismounting at the door, it plied him with the repetition, _every man loves her at sight_. he thought of training himself to hate her, but none the less through the hours of the night he heard the refrain, _every man loves her at sight_. in a clearer condition, his very inability to shut her out of mind, despite his thousand efforts of will, would have taught him that another judgment was upon him. he loved her. chapter vii count corti to mahommed at noon the days are a little more yellow, and the shadows a trifle longer, while at evening the snows on the far mountains give the air a coolness gently admonitory of the changing season; with these exceptions there is scarcely a difference between the september to which we now come and the closing stages of june. count corti is fully settled in his position. withal, however, he is very miserable. a new light has been let in upon his being. he finds it a severe trial to serve a mahommedan, knowing himself a christian born, and still more difficult trying to be a turk, knowing himself an italian. the stings grow sharper as experience makes it plainer that he is nefariously helping those whom he ought to regard enemies destroy an emperor and people who never gave him offence. worst of all, most crushing to spirit, is his passion for the princess irene while under obligations to mahommed prohibitory of every hope, dream, and self-promise ordinarily the sweetest incidents of love. the person with a mental ailment curable by prompt decision, who yet goes about debating what to do, will ere long find his will power so weakened as to leave him a confirmed wreck. count corti seemed likely to become an instance in point. the months since his visit to the paternal castle in italy, really the beginning of the conflicts tossing him now here, now there, were full of warnings he could but hear; still he continued his course. his reports to mahommed were frequent, and as they are of importance to our story, we think it advisable to quote from some of them. the following is from his first communication after the visit to sancta sophia: "i cast myself at your feet, o my lord, praying allah to keep you in health, and strengthen the wise designs which occupy you incessantly.... you bade me always speak first of the kinswoman of the emperor. yesterday i rode to the church supreme in the veneration of the greeks, erected, it is said, by the emperor justinian. its vastness amazed me, and, knowing my lord's love for such creations, i declare, were there no other incentive to the conquest of this unbelieving city than the reduction of sancta sophia to the religious usages of islam, its possession would alone justify my lord's best effort, regardless of life and treasure. the riches accumulated in it through the ages are incalculable; nevertheless its splendors, dazzling as the sun, varied as a rainbow, sunk out of sight when the princess irene passed me so near that i had a perfect view of her. her face is composed of the light of unnumbered stars. the union of all the graces in her person is so far above words that hafiz, my lord's prince of poets, would have been dumb before her, or, if he had spoken, it would have been to say, she is the song of songs impossible to verse. she spoke to me as she moved by, and her voice was the voice of love. yet she had the dignity of a queen governing the world through a conqueror such as my lord is to be. then, the door having closed upon her, i was ready to declare, as i now do, were there no other incentive to the conquest of this unbelieving city than the possession of the womanly perfections belonging to her, she would justify war to the exhaustion of the universe. o my lord, thou only art worthy of her! and how infinite will be my happiness, if the prophet through his powerful intercessions with the most merciful, permits me to be the servant instrumental in bringing her safely to thy arms!" this report concluded: "by appointment of his majesty, the emperor, i had audience with him yesterday at his high residence, the palace of blacherne. the court was in full attendance, and, after my presentation to his majesty, i was introduced to its members. the ceremony was in charge of the grand chamberlain, that phranza with whom my lord is acquainted. much i feared lest he should recognize me. fortunately he is dull and philosophical, and too much given to study of things abstract and far away to be mindful of those close under his nose. duke notaras was there also. he conversed with me about italy. fortunately i knew more about the _gabour_ country than he--its nobles, cities, manners, and present conditions. he thanked me for information, and when he had my account of the affair which brought me the invaluable certificate of the bishop of rome he gave over sounding me. i have more reason to be watchful of him than all the rest of the court; _so has the emperor_. phranza is a man to be spared. notaras is a man to be bowstrung.... i flatter myself the emperor is my friend. in another month i shall be intrenched in his confidence. he is brave, but weak. an excellent general without lieutenants, without soldiers, and too generous and trustful for a politician, too religious for a statesman. his time is occupied entirely with priests and priestly ceremonies. my lord will appreciate the resort which enabled me to encamp myself in his trust. of the five arab horses i brought with me from aleppo, i gave him one--a gray, superior to the best he has in his stables. he and his courtiers descended in a body to look at the barb and admire it." from the third report: "a dinner at the high residence. there were present officers of the army and navy, members of the court, the patriarch, a number of the clergy--hegumen, as they are called--and the princess irene, with a large suite of highborn ladies married and unmarried. his majesty was the sun of the occasion, the princess was the moon. he sat on a raised seat at one side of the table; she opposite him; the company according to rank, on their right and left. i had eyes for the moon only, thinking how soon my lord would be her source of light, and that her loveliness, made up of every loveliness else in the world, would then be the fitting complement of my lord's glory.... his majesty did me the honor to lead me to her, and she did me the higher honor of permitting me to kiss her hand. in further thought of what she was to my lord, i was about making her a salaam, but remembered myself--italians are not given to that mode of salutation, while the greeks reserve it for the emperor, or basileus as he is sometimes called.... she condescended to talk with me. her graces of mind are like those of her person--adorable.... i was very deferent, and yielded the choice of topics. she chose two--religion and arms. had she been a man, she would have been a soldier; being a woman, she is a religious devotee. there is nothing of which she is more desirous than the restoration of the holy sepulchre to the christian powers. she asked me if it were true the holy father commissioned me to make war on the tripolitan pirates, and when i said yes, she replied with a fervor truly engaging: 'the practice of arms would be the noblest of occupations if it were given solely to crusading.' ... she then adverted to the holy father. i infer from her speaking of the bishop of rome as the holy father that she inclines to the party which believes the bishop rightfully the head of the church. how did he look? was he a learned man? did he set a becoming example to his clergy? was he liberal and tolerant? if great calamity were to threaten christianity in the east, would he lend it material help?... my lord will have a time winning the princess over to the right understanding; but in the fields of love who ever repented him of his labor? when my lord was a boy, he once amused himself training a raven and a bird of paradise to talk. the raven at length came to say, 'o allah, allah!' the other bird was beyond teaching, yet my lord loved it the best, and excused his partiality: 'oh, its feathers are so brilliant!'" again: "a few days ago, i rode out of the golden gate, and turning to the right, pursued along the great moat to the gate st. romain. the wall, or rather the walls, of the city were on my right hand, and it is an imposing work. the moat is in places so cumbered i doubt if it can be everywhere flooded.... i bought some snow-water of a peddler, and examined the gate in and out. its central position makes it a key of first importance. thence i journeyed on surveying the road and adjacent country up far as the adrianople gate.... i hope my lord will find the enclosed map of my reconnoissance satisfactory. it is at least reliable." again: "his majesty indulged us with a hawking party. we rode to the belgrade forest from which constantinople is chiefly though not entirely supplied with water.... my lord's flower of flowers, the princess, was of the company. i offered her my chestnut courser, but she preferred a jennet. remembering your instructions, o my lord, i kept close to her bridle. she rides wonderfully well; yet if she had fallen, how many prayers to the prophet, what amount of alms to the poor, would have availed me with my lord?... riding is a lost art with the greeks, if the ever possessed it. the falcon killed a heron beyond a hill which none of them, except the emperor, dared cross in their saddles. some day i will show them how we of my lord's loving ride.... the princess came safely home." again: "o my lord in duty always!... i paid the usual daily visit to the princess, and kissed her hand upon my admission and departing. she has this quality above other women--she is always the same. the planets differ from her in that they are sometimes overcast by clouds.... from her house, i rode to the imperial arsenal, situated in the ground story of the hippodrome, northern side. [footnote: professor e a grosvenor.] it is well stored with implements of offence and defence--mangonels, balistas, arbalists, rams--cranes for repairing breaches--lances, javelins, swords, axes, shields, scutums, pavises, armor--timber for ships--cressets for night work--ironmonger machines--arquebuses, but of antique patterns--quarrels and arrows in countless sheaves--bows of every style. in brief, as my lord's soul is dauntless, as he is an eagle, which does not abandon the firmament scared by the gleam of a huntsman's helmet in the valley, he can bear to hear that the emperor keeps prepared for the emergencies of war. indeed, were his majesty as watchful in other respects, he would be dangerous. who are to serve all these stores? his native soldiers are not enough to make a bodyguard for my lord. only the walls of byzantium remain for her defence. the church has swallowed the young men; the sword is discarded for the rosary. unless the warriors of the west succor her, she will be an easy prey." again: "my lord enjoined me to be royal.... i have just returned from a sail up the bosphorus to the black sea in my galley. the decks were crowded with guests. under a silken pavilion pitched on the roof of my cabin, there was a throne for the princess irene, and she shone as the central jewel in a kingly crown.... we cast anchor in the bay of therapia, and went ashore to her palace and gardens. on the outside face of one of the gate-columns, she showed me a brass plate. i recognized my lord's signature and safeguard, and came near saluting them with a _rik'rath_, but restraining myself, asked her innocently, 'what it was?' o my lord, verily i congratulate you! she blushed, and cast down her eyes, and her voice trembled while she answered: 'they say the prince mahommed nailed it there.' 'what prince mahommed?' 'he who is now sultan of the turks.' 'he has been here, then? did you see him?' 'i saw an arab story-teller.' her face was the hue of a scarlet poppy, and i feared to go further than ask concerning the plate: 'what does it mean?' and she returned: 'the turks never go by without prostrating themselves before it. they say it is notice to them that i, and my house and grounds, are sacred from their intrusion.' and then i said: 'amongst peoples of the east and the desert, down far as the barbary coast, the sultan mahommed has high fame for chivalry. his bounties to those once fortunate enough to excite his regard are inexhaustible.' she would have had me speak further of you, but out of caution, i was driven to declare i knew nothing beyond the hearsay of the islamites among whom i had been here and there cast.... my lord will not require me to describe the palace by therapia. he has seen it.... the princess remained there. i was at sore loss, not knowing how i could continue to make report of her to my lord, until, to my relief she invited me to visit her." again: "i am glad to say, for my lord's sake, that the october winds, sweeping down from the black sea, have compelled his princess to return to her house in the city, where she will abide till the summer comes again. i saw her to-day. the country life has retouched her cheeks with a just-sufficient stain of red roses; her lips are scarlet, as if she had been mincing fresh-blown bloom of pomegranates; her eyes are clear as a crooning baby's; her neck is downy--round as a white dove's; in her movements afoot, she reminds me of the swaying of a lily-stalk brushed softly by butterflies and humming-birds, attracted to its open cup of paradisean wax. oh, if i could but tell her of my lord!"... this report was lengthy, and included the account of an episode more personal to the sultanic emissary than any before given his master. it was dated october. the subjoined extracts may prove interesting. ... "everybody in the east has heard of the hippodrome, whither i went one day last week, and again yesterday. it was the mighty edifice in which byzantine vanity aired itself through hundreds of years. but little of it is now left standing. at the north end of an area probably seventy paces wide, and four hundred long, is a defaced structure with a ground floor containing the arsenal, and on that, boxes filled with seats. a lesser building rises above the boxes which is said to have been a palace called the _kathisma_, from which the emperor looked down upon the various amusements of the people, such as chariot racing, and battles between the blue and green factions. around the area from the _kathisma_ lie hills of brick and marble--enough to build the palace as yet hid in my lord's dreams, and a mosque to becomingly house our mohammedan religion. in the midst, marking a line central of the race-course, are three relics--a square pillar quite a hundred feet high, bare now, but covered once with plates of brass--an obelisk from egypt--and a twisted bronze column, representing three writhing serpents, their heads in air. [footnote: the hippodrome was the popular pleasure resort in constantinople. besides accommodating one hundred thousand spectators, it was the most complete building for the purposes of its erection ever known. the world--including old rome--had been robbed of statuary for the adornment of this extravaganza. its enormous level posed in great part upon a substructure of arches on arches, which still exist. the opinion is quite general that it was destroyed by the turks, and that much of its material went to construct the mosque sulymanie. the latter averment is doubtless correct; but it is only justice to say that the crusaders, so called christians, who encamped in constantinople in were the real vandals. for pastime, merely, they plied their battle-axes on the carvings, inscriptions, and vast collection of statuary in marble and bronze found by them on the spinet, and elsewhere in the edifice. when they departed, the hippodrome was an irreparable ruin--a convenient and lawful quarry.]... the present emperor does not honor the ruin with his presence; but the people come, and sitting in the boxes under the kathisma, and standing on the heaps near by, find diversion watching the officers and soldiers exercising their horses along the area.... my lord must know, in the next place, that there is in the city a son of the orchan who terms himself lawful heir of solyman of blessed memory--the orchan pretender to my lord's throne, whom the greeks have been keeping in mock confinement--the orchan who is the subject of the present emperor's demand on my lord for an increase of the stipend heretofore paid for the impostor's support. the son of the pretender, being a turk, affects the martial practices prevalent with us, and enjoys notoriety for accomplishments as a horseman, and in the tourney play djerid. he is even accredited with an intention of one day taking the field against my lord--this when his father, the old orchan, dies.... when i entered the hippodrome one day last week, orchan the younger occupied the arena before the kathisma. the boxes were well filled with spectators. some officers of my acquaintance were present, mounted like myself, and they accosted me politely, and eulogized the performance. afterwhile i joined in their commendation, but ventured to say i had seen better exercise during my sojourn among the infidels in the holy land. they asked me if i had any skill. 'i cannot call it skill,' i said; 'but my instruction was from a noble master, the sheik of the jordan.' nothing would rest them then but a trial. at length i assented on condition that the turk would engage me in a tourney or a combat without quarter--bow, cimeter, spear--on horseback and in moslem armor. they were astonished, but agreed to carry the challenge.... now, o my lord, do not condemn me. my residence here has extended into months, without an incident to break the peace. your pleasure is still my rule. i keep the custom of going about on horseback and in armor. once only--at his majesty's dinner--i appeared in a venetian suit--a red mantle and hose, one leg black, the other yellow--red-feathered cap, shoes with the long points chained to my knees. was there not danger of being mistaken for a strutting bird of show? if my hand is cunning with weapons, should not the greeks be taught it? how better recommend myself to his majesty of blacherne? then, what an opportunity to rid my lord of future annoyance! old orchan cannot live much longer, while this cheeping chicken is young.... the son of the pretender, being told i was an italian, replied he would try a tourney with me; if i proved worthy, he would consider the combat.... yesterday was the time for the meeting. there was a multitude out as witnesses, the emperor amongst others. he did not resort to the _kathisma,_ but kept his saddle, with a bodyguard of horsemen at his back. his mount was my gray arab.... we began with volting, demi-volting, jumping, wheeling in retreat, throwing the horse. orchan was a fumbler.... we took to bows next, twelve arrows each. at full speed he put two bolts in the target, and i twelve, all in the white ring.... then spear against cimeter. i offered him choice, and he took the spear. in the first career, the blunted head of his weapon fell to the ground shorn off close behind the ferrule. the spectators cheered and laughed, and growing angry, orchan shouted it was an accident, and challenged me to combat. i accepted, but his majesty interposed--we might conclude with the spear and sword in tourney again.... my antagonist, charged with malicious intent, resolved to kill me. i avoided his shaft, and as his horse bolted past on my left, i pushed him with my shield, and knocked him from the saddle. they picked him up bleeding nose and ears. his majesty invited me to accompany him to blacherne.... i left the hippodrome sorry not to have been permitted to fight the vain fool; yet my repute in constantinople is now undoubtedly good--i am a soldier to be cultivated." again: "his majesty has placed me formally in charge of the gate in front of my quarters. communication with my lord is now at all times easy. _the keys of the city are in effect mine._ nevertheless i shall continue to patronize ali. his fish are the freshest brought to market." again: "o my lord, the princess irene is well and keeps the morning colors in her cheeks for you. yet i found her quite distraught. there was unwelcome news at the palace from his majesty's ambassador at adrianople. the sultan had at last answered the demand for increase of the orchan stipend--not only was the increase refused, but the stipend itself was withdrawn, and a peremptory order to that effect sent to the province whence the fund has been all along collected.... i made a calculation, with conclusion that my report of the tourney with young orchan reached my lord's hand, and i now am patting myself on the back, happy to believe it had something to do with my lord's decision. the imposition deserved to have its head blown off. orchan is a dotard. his son's ears are still impaired. in the fall the ground caught him crown first. he will never ride again. the pretension is over.... i rode from the princess' house directly to blacherne. the grand council was in session: yet the prefect of the palace admitted me.... o my lord, this constantine is a man, a warrior, an emperor, surrounded by old women afraid of their shadows. the subject of discussion when i went in was the news from adrianople. his majesty was of opinion that your decision, coupled with the order discontinuing the stipend, was sign of a hostile intent. he was in favor of preparing for war. phranza thought diplomacy not yet spent. notaras asked what preparations his majesty had in mind. his majesty replied, buying cannon and powder, stocking the magazines with provisions for a siege, increasing the navy, repairing the walls, clearing out the moat. he would also send an embassy to the bishop of rome, and through him appeal to the christian powers of europe for assistance in men and money. notaras rejoined instantly: 'rather than a papal legate in constantinople, he would prefer a turbaned turk.' the council broke up in confusion.... verily, o my lord, i pitied the emperor. so much courage, so much weakness! his capital and the slender remnant of his empire are lost unless the _gabours_ of venice and italy come to his aid. will they? the holy father, using the opportunity, will try once more to bring the eastern church to its knees, and failing, will leave it to its fate. if my lord knocked at these gates to-morrow, notaras would open one of them, and i another.... yet the emperor will fight. he has the soul of a hero." again: "the princess irene is inconsolable. intensely greek, and patriotic, and not a little versed in politics, she sees nothing cheering in the situation of the empire. the vigils of night in her oratory are leaving their traces on her face. her eyes are worn with weeping. i find it impossible not to sympathize with so much beauty tempered by so many virtues. when the worst has befallen, perhaps my lord will know how to comfort her." finally: "it is a week since i last wrote my lord. ali has been sick but keeps in good humor, and says he will be well when christian winds cease blowing from constantinople. he prays you to come and stop them.... the diplomatic mishaps of the emperor have quickened the religious feuds of his subjects. the latins everywhere quote the speech of notaras in the council: 'rather than a papal legate in constantinople, i prefer a turbaned turk'--and denounce it as treason to god and the state. it certainly represents the true feeling of the greek clergy; yet they are chary in defending the duke.... the princess is somewhat recovered, although perceptibly paler than is her wont. she is longing for the return of spring, and promises herself health and happiness in the palace at therapia.... to-morrow, she informs me, there is to be a special grand service in sancta sophia. the brotherhoods here and elsewhere will be present. i will be there also. she hopes peace and rest from doctrinal disputes will follow. we will see." the extracts above given will help the reader to an idea of life in constantinople; more especially they portray the peculiar service rendered by corti during the months they cover. there are two points in them deserving special notice: the warmth of description indulged with respect to the princess irene and the betrayal of the emperor. it must not be supposed the count was unaware of his perfidy. he did his writing after night, when the city and his own household were asleep; and the time was chosen, not merely for greater security from discovery, but that no eye might see the remorse he suffered. how often he broke off in the composition to pray for strength to rescue his honor, and save himself from the inflictions of conscience! there were caverns in the mountains and islands off in the mid-seas: why not fly to them? alas! he was now in a bondage which made him weak as water. it was possible to desert mahommed, but not the princess. the dangers thickening around the city were to her as well. telling her of them were useless; she would never abandon the old capital; and it was the perpetually recurring comparison of her strength with his own weakness which wrought him his sharpest pangs. writing of her in poetic strain was easy, for he loved her above every earthly consideration: but when he thought of the intent with which he wrote--that he was serving the love of another, and basely scheming to deliver her to him--there was no refuge in flight; recollection would go with him to the ends of the earth--better death. not yet--not yet--he would argue. heaven might send him a happy chance. so the weeks melted into months, and he kept the weary way hoping against reason, conspiring, betraying, demoralizing, sinking into despair. chapter viii our lord's creed proceeding now to the special service mentioned in the extract from the last report of count corti to mahommed. the nave of sancta sophia was in possession of a multitude composed of all the brotherhoods of the city, interspersed with visiting delegations from the monasteries of the islands and many of the hermitic colonies settled in the mountains along the asiatic shore of the marmora. in the galleries were many women; amongst them, on the right-hand side, the princess irene. her chair rested on a carpeted box a little removed from the immense pilaster, and raised thus nearly to a level with the top of the balustrade directly before her, she could easily overlook the floor below, including the apse. from her position everybody appeared dwarfed; yet she could see each figure quite well in the light of the forty arched windows above the galleries. on the floor the chancel, or space devoted to the altar, was separated from the body of the nave by a railing of corinthian brass, inside which, at the left, she beheld the emperor, in basilean regalia, seated on a throne--a very stately and imposing figure. opposite him was the chair of the patriarch. between the altar and the railing arose a baldacchino, the canopy of white silk, the four supporting columns of shining silver. under the canopy, suspended by a cord, hung the vessel of gold containing the blessed sacraments; and to the initiated it was a sufficient publication of the object of the assemblage. outside the railing, facing the altar, stood the multitude. to get an idea of its appearance, the reader has merely to remember the description of the bands marching into the garden of blacherne the night of the _pannychides_. there were the same gowns black and gray; the same tonsured heads, and heads shock-haired; the same hoods and glistening rosaries; the same gloomy, bearded faces; the same banners, oriflammes, and ecclesiastical gonfalons, each with its community under it in a distinctive group. back further towards the entrances from the vestibule was a promiscuous host of soldiers and civilians; having no part in the service, they were there as spectators. the ceremony was under the personal conduct of the patriarch. silence being complete, the choir, invisible from the body of the nave, began its magnificent rendition of the _sanctus_--"holy, holy, holy, lord god of sabaoth. blessed is he who cometh in the name of the lord. hosanna in the highest"--and during the singing, his serenity was clothed for the rite. over his cassock, the deacons placed the surplice of white linen, and over that again a stole stiff with gold embroidery. he then walked slowly to the altar, and prayed; and when he had himself communicated, he was led to the baldacchino, where he blessed the body and the blood, and mixed them together in chalices, ready for delivery to the company of servers kneeling about him. the emperor, who, in common with the communicants within and without the railing, had been on his knees, arose now and took position before the altar in a prayerful attitude; whereupon the patriarch brought him a chalice on a small paten, and he put it to his lips, while the choir rang the dome with triumphal symphony. his serenity next returned to the baldacchino, and commenced giving the cups to the servers; at the same time the gate leading from the chancel to the nave was thrown open. nor rustle of garment, nor stir of foot was heard. then a black-gowned figure arose amidst a group not far from the gate, and said, in a hoarse voice, muffled by the flaps of the hood covering his head and face: "we are here, o serenity, by thy invitation--here to partake of the holy eucharist--and i see thou art about sending it to us. now not a few present believe there is no grace in leavened bread, and others hold it impiety to partake thereof. wherefore tell us"-- the patriarch looked once at the speaker; then, delivering the chalice, signed the servers to follow him; next instant, he stood in the open gateway, and with raised hands, cried out: "holy things to the holy!" repeating the ancient formula, he stepped aside to allow the cup-bearers to pass into the nave; but they stood still, for there came a skurry of sound not possible of location, so did it at the same moment seem to be from the dome descending and from the floor going up to the dome. it was the multitude rising from their knees. now the patriarch, though feeble in body, was stout of soul and ready-witted, as they usually are whose lives pass in combat and fierce debate. regarding the risen audience calmly, he betook himself to his chair, and spoke to his assistants, who brought a plain chasuble, and put it on him, covering the golden stole completely. when he again appeared in the spaceway of the open gate, as he presently did, every cleric and every layman in the church to whom he was visible understood he took the interruption as a sacrilege from which he sought by the change of attire to save himself. "whoso disturbs the sacrament in celebration has need of cause for that he does; for great is his offence whatever the cause." the patriarch's look and manner were void of provocation, except as one, himself rudely disposed, might discover it in the humility somewhat too studied. "i heard my brother--it would be an untruth to say i did not--and to go acquit of deceit, i will answer him, god helping me. let me say first, while we have some differences in our faith, there are many things about which we are agreed, the things in agreement outnumbering those in difference; and of them not the least is the real presence once the sacraments are consecrated. take heed, o brethren! do any of you deny the real presence in the bread and wine of communion?" no man made answer. "it is as i said--not one. look you, then, if i or you--if any of us be tempted to anger or passionate speech, and this house, long dedicated to the worship of god, and its traditions of holiness too numerous for memory, and therefore of record only in the books of heaven, fail the restraints due them, lo, christ is here--christ in real presence--christ our lord in body and blood!" the old man stood aside, pointing to the vessel under the baldacchino, and there were sighs and sobs. some shouted: "blessed be the son of god!" the sensation over, the patriarch continued: "o my brother, take thou answer now. the bread is leavened. is it therefore less grace-giving?" "no, no!" but the response was drowned by an affirmative yell so strong there could be no doubt of the majority. the minority, however, was obstinate, and ere long the groups disrupted, and it seemed every man became a disputant. now nothing serves anger like vain striving to be heard. the patriarch in deep concern stood in the gateway, exclaiming: "have a care, o brethren, have a care! for now is christ here!" and as the babble kept increasing, the emperor came to him. "they are like to carry it to blows, o serenity." "fear not, my son, god is here, and he is separating the wheat from the chaff." "but the blood shed will be on my conscience, and the _panagia_"-- the aged prelate was inflexible. "nay, nay, not yet! they are greeks. let them have it out. the day is young; and how often is shame the miraculous parent of repentance." constantine returned to his throne, and remained there standing. meantime the tumult went on until, with shouting and gesticulating, and running about, it seemed the assemblage was getting mad with drink. whether the contention was of one or many things, who may say? well as could be ascertained, one party, taking cue from the patriarch, denounced the interruption of the most sacred rite; the other anathematized the attempt to impose leavened bread upon orthodox communicants as a scheme of the devil and his arch-legate, the bishop of rome. men of the same opinions argued blindly with each other; while genuine opposition was conducted with glaring eyes, swollen veins, clinched hands, and voices high up in the leger lines of hate and defiance. the timorous and disinclined were caught and held forcibly. in a word, the scene was purely byzantine, incredible of any other people. the excitement afterwhile extended to the galleries, where, but that the women were almost universally of the greek faction, the same passion would have prevailed; as it was, the gentle creatures screamed _azymite, azymite_ in amazing disregard of the proprieties. the princess irene, at first pained and mortified, kept her seat until appearances became threatening; then she scanned the vast pit long and anxiously; finally her wandering eyes fell upon the tall figure of sergius drawn out of the mass, but facing it from a position near the gate of the brazen railing. immediately she settled back in her chair. to justify the emotion now possessing her, the reader must return to the day the monk first presented himself at her palace near therapia. he must read again the confession, extorted from her by the second perusal of father hilarion's letter, and be reminded of her education in the venerated father's religious ideas, by which her whole soul was adherent to his conceptions of the primitive church of the apostles. nor less must the reader suffer himself to be reminded of the consequences to her--of the judgment of heresy upon her by both latins and greeks--of her disposition to protest against the very madness now enacting before her--of her longing, oh, that i were a man!--of the fantasy that heaven had sent sergius to her with the voice, learning, zeal, courage, and passion of truth to enable her to challenge a hearing anywhere-of the persistence with which she had since cared for and defended him, and watched him in his studies, and shared them with him. nor must the later incident, the giving him a copy of the creed she had formulated--the creed of nine words--be omitted in the consideration. now indeed the reader can comprehend the princess, and the emotions with which she beheld the scene at her feet. the patriarch's dramatic warning of the real presence found in her a ready second; for keeping strictly to father hilarion's distinction between a right creed and a form or ceremony for pious observance, the former essential to salvation, the latter merely helpful to continence in the creed, it was with her as if christ in glorified person stood there under the baldacchino. what wonder if, from indignation at the madness of the assembly, the insensate howling, the blasphemous rage, she passed to exaltation of spirit, and fancied the time good for a reproclamation of the primitive church? suddenly a sharper, fiercer explosion of rage arose from the floor, and a rush ensued--the factions had come to blows! then the patriarch yielded, and at a sign from the emperor the choir sang the _sanctus_ anew. high and long sustained, the sublime anthem rolled above the battle and its brutalism. the thousands heard it, and halting, faced toward the apse, wondering what could be coming. it even reached into the vortex of combat, and turned all the unengaged there into peacemakers. another surprise still more effective succeeded. boys with lighted candles, followed by bearers of smoking censers, bareheaded and in white, marched slowly from behind the altar toward the open gate, outside which they parted right and left, and stopped fronting the multitude. a broad banner hung to a cross-stick of gold, heavy with fringing of gold, the top of the staff overhung with fresh flowers in wreaths and garlands, the lower corners stayed by many streaming white ribbons in the hands of as many holy men in white woollen chasubles extending to the bare feet, appeared from the same retreat, carried by two brethren known to every one as janitors of the sacred chapel on the hill-front of blacherne. the emperor, the patriarch, the servers of the chalices, the whole body of assistants inside the railing, fell upon their knees while the banner was borne through the gate, and planted on the floor there. its face was frayed and dim with age, yet the figure of the woman upon it was plain to sight, except as the faint gray smoke from the censers veiled it in a vanishing cloud. then there was an outburst of many voices: "the _panagia!_ the _panagia!_" the feeling this time was reactionary. "o blessed madonna!--guardian of constantinople!--mother of god!--christ is here!--hosannas to the son and to the immaculate mother!" with these, and other like exclamations, the mass precipitated itself forward, and, crowding near the historic symbol, flung themselves on the floor before it, grovelling and contrite, if not conquered. the movement of the candle and censer bearers outside the gate forced sergius nearer it; so when the _panagia_ was brought to a rest, he, being much taller than its guardians, became an object of general observation, and wishing to escape it if possible, he took off his high hat; whereupon his hair, parted in the middle, dropped down his neck and back fair and shining in the down-beating light. this drew attention the more. did any of the prostrate raise their eyes to the madonna on the banner, they must needs turn to him next; and presently the superstitious souls, in the mood for miracles, began whispering to each other: "see--it is the son--it is the lord himself!" and of a truth the likeness was startling; although in saying this, the reader must remember the difference heretofore remarked between the greek and latin ideals. about that time sergius looked up to the princess, whose face shone out of the shadows of the gallery with a positive radiance, and he was electrified seeing her rise from her chair, and wave a hand to him. he understood her. the hour long talked of, long prepared for, was at last come--the hour of speech. the blood surged to his heart, leaving him pallid as a dead man. he stooped lower, covered his eyes with his hands, and prayed the wordless prayer of one who hastily commits himself to god; and in the darkness behind his hands there was an illumination, and in the midst of it a sentence in letters each a lambent flame--the creed of father hilarion and the princess irene--our lord's creed: "i believe in god, and jesus christ, his son." this was his theme! with no thought of self, no consciousness but of duty to be done, trusting in god, he stood up, pushed gently through the kneeling boys and guardians of the _panagia_, and took position where all eyes could look at the blessed mother slightly above him, and then to himself, in such seeming the very son. it might have been awe, it might have been astonishment, it might have been presentiment; at all events, the moaning, sobbing, praying, tossing of arms, beating of breasts, with the other outward signs of remorse, grief and contrition grotesque and pitiful alike subsided, and the church, apse, nave and gallery, grew silent--as if a wave had rushed in, and washed the life out of it. "men and brethren," he began, "i know not whence this courage to do comes, unless it be from heaven, nor at whose word i speak, if not that jesus of nazareth, worker of miracles which god did by him anciently, yet now here in real presence of body and blood, hearing what we say, seeing what we do." "art thou not he?" asked a hermit, half risen in front of him, his wrap of undressed goatskin fallen away from his naked shoulders. "no; his servant only am i, even as thou art--his servant who would not have forsaken him at gethsemane, who would have given him drink on the cross, who would have watched at the door of his tomb until laid to sleep by the delivering angel--his servant not afraid of death, which, being also his servant, will not pass me by for the work i now do, if the work be not by his word." the voice in this delivery was tremulous, and the manner so humble as to take from the answer every trace of boastfulness. his face, when he raised it, and looked out over the audience, was beautiful. the spectacle offered him in return was thousands of people on their knees, gazing at him undetermined whether to resent an intrusion or welcome a messenger with glad tidings. "men and brethren," he continued, more firmly, casting the old scriptural address to the farthest auditor, "now are you in the anguish of remorse; but who told you that you had offended to such a degree? see you not the spirit, sometimes called the comforter, in you? be at ease, for unto us are repentance and pardon. there were who beat our dear lord, and spit upon him, and tore his beard; who laid him on a cross, and nailed him to it with nails in his hands and feet; one wounded him in the side with a spear; yet what did he, the holy one and the just? oh! if he forgave them glorying in their offences, will he be less merciful to us repentant?" raising his head a little higher, the preacher proceeded, with increased assurance: "let me speak freely unto you; for how can a man repent wholly, if the cause of his sin be not laid bare that he may see and hate it? "now before our dear lord departed out of the world, he left sayings, simple even to children, instructing such as would be saved unto everlasting life what they must do to be saved. those sayings i call our lord's creed, by him delivered unto his disciples, from whom we have them: 'verily, verily, i say unto you, he that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life.' so we have the first article--belief in god. again: 'verily, verily, i say unto you, he that believeth on me hath everlasting life.' behold the second article--belief in christ. "now, for that the son, and he who sent him, are at least in purpose one, belief in either of them is declared sufficient; nevertheless it may be simpler, if not safer, for us to cast the two articles together in a single phrase; we have then a creed which we may affirm was made and left behind him by our lord himself: i believe in god, and jesus christ, his son. and when we sound it, lo! two conditions in all; and he who embraces them, more is not required of him; he is already passed from death unto life--everlasting life. "this, brethren, is the citadel of our christian faith; wherefore, to strengthen it. what was the mission of jesus christ our lord to the world? hear every one! what was the mission of our lord jesus christ? why was he sent of god, and born into the world? hearing the question, take heed of the answer: he was sent of god for the salvation of men. you have ears, hear; minds, think; nor shall one of you, the richest in understanding of the scriptures, in walk nearest the sinless example, ever find another mission for him which is not an arraignment of the love of his father. "then, if it be true, as we all say, not one denying it, that our lord brought to his mission the perfected wisdom of his father, how could he have departed from the world leaving the way of salvation unmarked and unlighted? or, sent expressly to show us the way, himself the appointed guide, what welcome can we suppose he would have had from his father in heaven, if he had given the duty over to the angels? or, knowing the deceitfulness of the human heart, and its weakness and liability to temptation, whence the necessity for his coming to us, what if he had given the duty over to men, so much lower than the angels, and then gone away? rather than such a thought of him, let us believe, if the way had been along the land, he would have planted it with inscribed hills; if over the seas, he would have sown the seas with pillars of direction above the waves; if through the air, he would have made it a path effulgent with suns numerous as the stars. 'i am the way,' he said--meaning the way lies through me; and you may come to me in the place i go to prepare for you, if only you believe in god and me. men and brethren, our lord was true to his mission, and wise in the wisdom of his father." at this the hermit in front of the preacher, uttering a shill cry, spread his arms abroad, and quivered from head to foot. many of those near sprang forward to catch him. "no, leave him alone," cried sergius, "leave him alone. the cross he took was heavy of itself; but upon the cross you heaped conditions without sanction, making a burden of which he was like to die. at last he sees how easy it is to go to his master; that he has only to believe in god and the master. leave him with the truth; it was sent to save, not to kill." the excitement over, sergius resumed: "i come now, brethren, to the cause of your affliction. i will show it to you; that is to say, i will show you why you are divided amongst yourselves, and resort to cruelty one unto another; as if murder would help either side of the quarrel. i will show your disputes do not come from anything said or done by our lord, whose almost last prayer was that all who believed in him might be made perfect in one. "it is well known to you that our lord did not found a church during his life on earth, but gave authority for it to his apostles. it is known to you also that what his apostles founded was but a community: for such is the description: 'and all that believed were together, and had all things common; and sold their possessions and goods, and parted them to all men, as every man had need.' [footnote: acts ii. , .] and again: 'and the multitude of them that believed were of one heart and of one soul: neither said any of them that ought of the things which he possessed was his own; but they had all things common.' 'neither was there any among them that lacked: for as many as were possessors of lands or houses sold them, and brought the prices of the things that were sold, and laid them down at the apostles' feet: and distribution was made unto every man according as he had need.' [footnote: acts iv. , , .] but in time this community became known as the church; and there was nothing of it except our lord's creed, in definition of the faith, and two ordinances for the church--baptism for the remission of sins, that the baptized might receive the comforter, and the sacraments, that believers, often as they partook of the body and blood of christ, might be reminded of him. "lo, now! in the space of three generations this church, based upon this simple creed, became a power from alexandria to lodinum; and though kings banded to tread it out; though day and night the smell of the blood of the righteous spilt by them was an offence to god; though there was no ingenuity more amongst men except to devise methods for the torture of the steadfast--still the church grew; and if you dig deep enough for the reasons of its triumphant resistance, these are they: there was divine life in the creed, and the community was perfect in one; insomuch that the brethren quarrelled not among themselves; neither was there jealousy, envy or rivalry among them; neither did they dispute about immaterial things, such as which was the right mode of baptism, or whether the bread should be leavened or unleavened, or whence the holy ghost proceeded, whether from the father or from the father and son together; neither did the elders preach for a price, nor forsake a poor flock for a rich one that their salaries might be increased, nor engage in building costly tabernacles for the sweets of vanity in tall spires; neither did any study the scriptures seeking a text, or a form, or an observance, on which to go out and draw from the life of the old community that they might set up a new one; and in their houses of god there were never places for the men and yet other separate places for the women of the congregation; neither did a supplicant for the mercy of god look first at the garments of the neighbor next him lest the mercy might lose a virtue because of a patch or a tatter. the creed was too plain for quibble or dispute; and there was no ambition in the church except who should best glorify christ by living most obedient to his commands. thence came the perfection of unity in faith and works; and all went well with the primitive church of the apostles; and the creed was like unto the white horse seen by the seer of the final visions, and the church was like him who sat upon the horse, with a bow in his hand, unto whom a crown was given; and he went forth conquering and to conquer." here the audience was stirred uncontrollably; many fell forward upon their faces; others wept, and the nave resounded with rejoicing. in one quarter alone there was a hasty drawing together of men with frowning brows, and that was where the gonfalon of the brotherhood of the st. james' was planted. the hegumen, in the midst of the group, talked excitedly, though in a low tone. "i will not ask, brethren," sergius said, in continuance, "if this account of the primitive church be true; you all do know it true; yet i will ask if one of you holds that the offending of which you would repent--the anger, and bitter words, and the blows--was moved by anything in our lord's creed, let him arise, before the presence is withdrawn, and say that he thinks. these, lending their ears, will hear him, and so will god. what, will not one arise? "it is not necessary that i remind you to what your silence commits you. rather suffer me to ask next, which of you will arise and declare, our lord his witness, that the church of his present adherence is the same church the apostles founded? you have minds, think; tongues, speak." there was not so much as a rustle on the floor. "it was well, brethren, that you kept silence; for, if one had said his church was the same church the apostles founded, how could he have absolved himself of the fact that there are nowhere two parties each claiming to be of the only true church? or did he assert both claimants to be of the same church, and it the only true one, then why the refusal to partake of the sacraments? why a division amongst them at all? have you not heard the aforetime saying, 'every kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation'? "men and brethren, let no man go hence thinking his church, whichever it be, is the church of the apostles. if he look for the community which was the law of the old brotherhood, his search will be vain. if he look for the unity, offspring of our lord's last prayer, lo! jealousies, hates, revilements, blows instead. no, your creed is of men, not christ, and the semblance of christ in it is a delusion and a snare." at this the gonfalon of the st. james' was suddenly lifted up, and borne forward to within a few feet of the gate, and the hegumen, standing in front of it, cried out: "serenity, the preacher is a heretic! i denounce"-- he could get no further; the multitude sprang to foot howling. the princess irene, and the women in the galleries, also arose, she pale and trembling. peril to sergius had not occurred to her when she gave him the signal to speak. the calmness and resignation with which he looked at his accuser reminded her of his master before pilate, and taking seat again, she prayed for him, and the cause he was pleading. at length, the patriarch, waving his hand, said: "brethren, it may be sergius, to whom we have been listening, has his impulse of speech from the spirit, even as he has declared. let us be patient and hear him." turning to sergius, he bade him proceed. "the three hundred bishops and presbyters from whom you have your creeds, [footnote: _encyclopedia brit.,_ vi. .] o men and brethren"--so the preacher continued--"took the two articles from our lord's creed, and then they added others. thus, which of you can find a text of our lord treating of his procession from the substance of god? again, in what passage has our lord required belief in the personage of the holy ghost as an article of faith essential to salvation? [footnote: four creeds are at present used in the roman catholic church; viz., the apostles' creed, the nicene, the athanasian, that of pius iv--add. and ar., _catholic dictionary,_ .] 'i am the way,' said our lord. 'no,' say the three hundred, 'we are the way; and would you be saved, you must believe in us not less than in god and his son.'" the auditors a moment before so fierce, even the hegumen, gazed at the preacher in a kind of awe; and there was no lessening of effect when his manner underwent a change, his head slightly drooping and his voice plaintive. "the spirit by whose support and urgency i have dared address you, brethren, admonishes me that my task is nearly finished." he took hold of the corner of the _panagia;_ so all in view were more than ever impressed with his likeness to their ideal of the blessed master. "the urgency seemed to me on account of your offence to the real presence so graciously in our midst; for truly when we are in the depths of penitence it is our nature to listen more kindly to what is imparted for our good; wherefore, as you have minds, i beg you to think. if our lord did indeed leave a creed containing the all in all for our salvation, what meant he if not that it should stand in saving purity until he came again in the glory of his going? and if he so intended, and yet uninspired men have added other articles to the simple faith he asked of us, making it so much the harder for us to go to him in the place he has prepared for us, are they not usurpers? and are not the articles which they have imposed to be passed by us as stratagems dangerous to our souls? "again. the excellence of our lord's creed by which it may be always known when in question, its wisdom superior to the devices of men, is that it permits us to differ about matters outside of the faith without weakening our relations to the blessed master or imperilling our lot in his promises. such matters, for example, as works, which are but evidences of faith and forms of worship, and the administration of the two ordinances of the church, and god and his origin, and whether heaven be here or there, or like unto this or that. for truly our lord knew us, and that it was our nature to deal in subtleties and speculate of things not intended we should know during this life; the thought of our minds being restless and always running, like the waters of a river on their way to the sea. "again, brethren. if the church of the apostles brought peace to its members, so that they dwelt together, no one of them lacking or in need, do not your experiences of to-day teach you wherein your churches, being those built upon the creed of the three hundred bishops, are unlike it? moreover, see you not if now you have several churches, some amongst you, the carping and ambitious, will go out and in turn set up new confessions of faith, and at length so fill the earth with rival churches that religion will become a burden to the poor and a byword with fools who delight in saying there is no god? in a village, how much better one house of god, with one elder for its service, and always open, than five or ten, each with a preacher for a price, and closed from sabbath to sabbath? for that there must be discipline to keep the faithful together, and to carry on the holy war against sin and its strongholds and captains, how much better one church in the strength of unity than a hundred diversely named and divided against themselves? "the revelator, even that john who while in the spirit was bidden. 'write the things which thou hast seen, and the things which are, and the things which shall be hereafter,' wrote, and at the end of his book set a warning: 'if any man shall add unto these things, god shall add unto him the plagues that are written in this book.' i cannot see, brethren, wherein that crime is greater than the addition of articles to our lord's creed; nor do i know any who have more reason to be afraid of those threatened plagues than the priest or preacher who from pride or ambition, or dread of losing his place or living, shall wilfully stand in the way of a return to the church of the apostles and its unity. forasmuch as i also know what penitential life is, and how your minds engage themselves in the solitude of your cells, i give you whereof to think. men and brethren, peace unto you all!" the hermit knelt to the preacher, and kissed his hand, sobbing the while; the auditors stared at each other doubtfully; but the hegumen's time was come. advancing to the gate, he said: "this man, o serenity, is ours by right of fraternity. in thy hearing he hath defamed the creed which is the rock the fathers chose for the foundation of our most holy church. he hath even essayed to make a creed of his own, and present it for our acceptance--thy acceptance, o serenity, and that of his majesty, the only christian emperor, as well as ours. and for those things, and because never before in the history of our ancient and most notable brotherhood hath there been an instance of heresy so much as in thought, we demand the custody of this apostate for trial and judgment. give him to us to do with." the patriarch clasped his hands, and, shaking like a man struck with palsy, turned his eyes upward as if asking counsel of heaven. his doubt and hesitation were obvious; and neighbor heard his neighbor's heart beat; so did silence once more possess itself of the great auditorium. the princess irene arose white with fear, and strove to catch the emperor's attention; but he, too, was in the bonds waiting on the patriarch. then from his place behind the hegumen, sergius spoke: "let not your heart be troubled, o serenity. give me to my brotherhood. if i am wrong, i deserve to die; but if i have spoken as the spirit directed me, god is powerful to save. i am not afraid of the trial." the patriarch gazed at him, his withered cheeks glistening with tears; still he hesitated. "suffer me, o serenity!"--thus sergius again--"i would that thy conscience may never be disquieted on my account; and now i ask not that thou give me to my brotherhood--i will go with them freely and of my own accord." speaking then to the hegumen, he said: "no more, i pray. see, i am ready to be taken as thou wilt." the hegumen gave him in charge of the brethren; and at his signal, the gonfalon was raised and carried through the concourse, and out of one of the doors, followed closely by the brotherhood. at the moment of starting, sergius lifted his hands, and shouted so as to be heard above the confusion: "bear witness, o serenity--and thou, o emperor! that no man may judge me an apostate, hear my confession: i believe in god, and jesus christ, his son." many of those present remained and partook of the sacraments; far the greater number hurried away, and it was not long until the house was vacated. chapter ix count corti to mahommed extract: "god is god, and mahomet is his prophet! may they keep my lord in health, and help him to all his heart's desires! ... it is now three days since my eyes were gladdened by the presence of the princess irene; yet i have been duteously regular in my calls at her house. to my inquiries, her domestic has returned the same answer: 'the princess is in her chapel praying. she is sadly disturbed in mind, and excuses herself to every one.' knowing this information will excite my lord's apprehension, i beg him to accept the explanation of her ailments which i think most probable.... my lord will gratify me by graciously referring to the account of the special meeting in sancta sophia which i had the honor to forward the evening of the day of its occurrence. the conjecture there advanced that the celebration of the sacrament in highest form was a stratagem of the patriarch's looking to a reconciliation of the factions, has been confirmed; and more--it has proved a failure. its effect has inflamed the fanaticism of the greek party as never before. notaras, moved doubtless by gennadius, induced them to suspect his majesty and the patriarch of conniving at the wonderful sermon of the monk sergius; and, as the best rebuke in their power, the brotherhood of the st. james' erected a tribunal of judgment in their monastery last night, and placed the preacher on trial. he defended himself, and drove them to admit his points; that their church is not the primitive church of the apostles, and that their creed is an unwarranted enlargement of the two articles of faith left by jesus christ for the salvation of the world. yet they pronounced him an apostate and a heretic of incendiary purpose, and condemned him to the old lion in the cynegion, tamerlane, famous these many years as a man-eater.... my lord should also know of the rumor in the city which attributes the creed of nine words--'i believe in god, and jesus christ, his son'--to the princess irene; and her action would seem to justify the story. directly the meeting in sancta sophia was over, she hastened to the palace, and entreated his majesty to save the monk from his brethren. my lord may well think the emperor disposed to grant her prayer; his feeling for her is warmer than friendship. the gossips say he at one time proposed marriage to her. at all events, being a tender-hearted man--too tender indeed for his high position--it is easy imagining how such unparalleled beauty in tearful distress must have moved him. unhappily the political situation holds him as in a vice. the church is almost solidly against him; while of the brotherhoods this one of the st. james' has been his only stanch adherent. what shall the poor man do? if he saves the preacher, he is himself lost. it appears now she has been brought to understand he cannot interfere. thrown thus upon the mercy of heaven, she has buried herself in her oratory. oh, the full moon of full moons! and alas! that she should ever be overcast by a cloud, though it be not heavier than the just-risen morning mist. my lord--or allah must come quickly! * * * * * "o my lord! in duty again and always!... ali did not come yesterday. i suppose the high winds were too unfriendly. so the despatch of that date remained on my hands; and i now open it, and include a supplement.... this morning as usual i rode to the princess' door. the servant gave me the same report--his mistress was not receiving. it befalls therefore that my lord must take refuge in his work or in dreams of her--and may i lay a suggestion at his feet, i advise the latter, for truly, if the world is a garden, she is its queen of roses.... for the sake of the love my lord bears the princess, and the love i bear my lord, i did not sleep last night, being haunted with thinking how i could be of service to her. what is the use of strength and skill in arms if i cannot turn them to account in her behalf as my lord would have me?... on my way to the princess', i was told that the monk, who is the occasion of her sorrow, his sentence being on her conscience, is to be turned in with the lion to-morrow. as i rode away from her house in desperate strait, not having it in power to tell my lord anything of her, it occurred to me to go see the cynegion, where the judgment is to be publicly executed. what if the most merciful should offer me an opportunity to do the unhappy princess something helpful? if i shrank from the lion, when killing it would save her a grief, my lord would never forgive me ... . here is a description of the cynegion: the northwest wall of the city drops from the height of blacherne into a valley next the harbor or golden horn, near which it meets the wall coming from the east. right in the angle formed by the intersection of the walls there is a gate, low, very strong, and always closely guarded. passing the gate, i found myself in an enclosed field, the city wall on the east, wooded hills south, and the harbor north. how far the enclosure extends up the shore of the harbor, i cannot say exactly--possibly a half or three quarters of a mile. the surface is level and grassy. roads wind in and out of clumps of selected shrubbery, with here and there an oak tree. kiosk-looking houses, generally red painted, are frequent, some with roofs, some without. upon examination i discovered the houses were for the keeping of animals and birds. in one there was an exhibition of fish and reptiles. but much the largest structure, called the gallery, is situated nearly in the centre of the enclosure; and it astonished me with an interior in general arrangement like a greek theatre, except it is entirely circular and without a stage division. there is an arena, like a sanded floor, apparently fifty paces in diameter, bounded by a brick wall eighteen or twenty feet in height, and from the top of the wall seats rise one above another for the accommodation of common people; while for the emperor i noticed a covered stand over on the eastern side. the wall of the arena is broken at regular intervals by doors heavily barred, leading into chambers anciently dens for ferocious animals, but at present prisons for criminals of desperate character. there are also a number of gates, one under the grand stand, the others forming northern, southern and eastern entrances. from this, i am sure my lord can, if he cares to, draught the cynegion, literally the menagerie, comprehending the whole enclosure, and the arena in the middle of it, where the monk will to-morrow expiate his heresy. formerly combats in the nature of wagers of battle were appointed for the place, and beasts were pitted against each other; but now the only bloody amusement permitted in it is when a criminal or an offender against god is given to the lion. on such occasions, they tell me, the open seats and grand stands are crowded to their utmost capacities.... if the description is tedious, i hope my lord's pardon, for besides wishing to give him an idea of the scene of the execution to-morrow, i thought to serve him in the day he is looking forward to with so much interest, when the locality will have to be considered with a view to military approach. in furtherance of the latter object, i beg to put my lord in possession of the accompanying diagram of the cynegion, observing particularly its relation to the city; by attaching it to the drawings heretofore sent him, he will be enabled to make a complete map of the country adjacent to the landward wall.... ali has just come in. as i supposed, he was detained by the high winds. his mullets are perfection. with them he brings a young sword-fish yet alive. i look at the mess, and grieve that i cannot send a portion to my lord for his breakfast. however, a few days now, and he will come to his own; the sea with its fish, and the land and all that belongs to it. the child of destiny can afford to wait." chapter x sergius to the lion about ten o'clock the day after the date of count corti's last despatch--ten of the morning--a woman appeared on the landing in front of port st. peter, and applied to a boatman for passage to the cynegion. she was thickly veiled, and wore an every-day overcloak of brown stuff closely buttoned from her throat down. her hands were gloved, and her feet coarsely shod. in a word, her appearance was that of a female of the middle class, poor but respectable. the landing was thronged at the time. it seemed everybody wanted to get to the menagerie at once. boatmen were not lacking. their craft, of all known models, lay in solid block yards out, waiting turns to get in; and while they waited, the lusty, half-naked fellows flirted their oars, quarrelled with each other in good nature, greek-like, and yelled volleys at the slow bargain makers whose turns had arrived. twice the woman asked if she could have a seat. "how many of you are there?" she was asked in reply. "i am alone." "you want the boat alone?" "yes." "well, that can't be. i have seats for several--and wife and four babies at home told me to make the most i could out of them. it has been some time since one has tried to look old tamerlane in the eye, thinking to scare him out of his dinner. the game used to be common; it's not so now." "but i will pay you for all the seats." "full five?" "yes." "in advance?" "yes." "jump in, then--and get out your money--fifty-five noumias--while i push through these howling water-dogs." by the time the boat was clear of the pack, truly enough the passenger was with the fare in hand. "look," she said, "here is a bezant." at sight of the gold piece, the man's countenance darkened, and he stopped rowing. "i can't change that. you might as well have no money at all." "friend," she returned, "row me swiftly to the first gate of the cynegion, and the piece is yours." "by my blessed patron! i'll make you think you are on a bird, and that these oars are wings. sit in the middle--that will do. now!" the fellow was stout, skilful, and in earnest. in a trice he was under headway, going at racing speed. the boats in the harbor were moving in two currents, one up, the other down; and it was noticeable those in the first were laden with passengers, those of the latter empty. evidently the interest was at the further end of the line, and the day a holiday to the two cities, byzantium and galata. yet of the attractions on the water and the shores, the woman took no heed; she said never a word after the start; but sat with head bowed, and her face buried in her hands. occasionally, if the boatman had not been so intent on earning the gold piece, he might have heard her sob. for some reason, the day was not a holiday to her. "we are nearly there," he at length said. without lifting the veil, she glanced at a low wall on the left-hand shore, then at a landing, shaky from age and neglect, in front of a gate in the wall; and seeing it densely blockaded, she spoke: "please put me ashore here. i have no time to lose." the bank was soft and steep. "you cannot make it." "i can if you will give me your oar for a step." "i will." in a few minutes she was on land. pausing then to toss the gold piece to the boatman, she heard his thanks, and started hastily for the gate. within the cynegion, she fell in with some persons walking rapidly, and talking of the coming event as if it were a comedy. "he is a russian, you say?" "yes, and what is strange, he is the very man who got the prince of india's negro"-- "the giant?" "yes--who got him to drown that fine young fellow demedes." "where is the negro now?" "in a cell here." "why didn't they give him to the lion?" "oh, he had a friend--the princess irene." "what is to be done with him?" "afterwhile, when the affair of the cistern is forgotten, he will be given a purse, and set free." "pity! for what sport to have seen him in front of the old tartar!" "yes, he's a fighter." in the midst of this conversation, the party came in sight of the central building, externally a series of arches supporting a deep cornice handsomely balustraded, and called the gallery. "here we are!--but see the people on the top! i was afraid we would be too late. let us hurry." "which gate?" "the western--it's the nearest." "can't we get in under the grand stand?" "no, it's guarded." these loquacious persons turned off to make the western gate; but the woman in brown kept on, and ere long was brought to the grand stand on the north. an arched tunnel, amply wide, ran under it, with a gate at the further end admitting directly to the arena. a soldier of the foreign legion held the mouth of the tunnel. "good friend," she began, in a low, beseeching tone, "is the heretic who is to suffer here yet?" "he was brought out last night." "poor man! i am a friend of his"--her voice trembled--"may i see him?" "my orders are to admit no one--and i do not know which cell he is in." the supplicant, sobbing and wringing her hands, stood awhile silent. then a roar, very deep and hoarse, apparently from the arena, startled her and she trembled. "tamerlane!" said the soldier. "o god!" she exclaimed. "is the lion turned in already?" "not yet. he is in his den. they have not fed him for three days." she stayed her agitation, and asked: "what are your orders?" "not to admit any one." "to the cells?" "the cells, and the arena also." "oh, i see! you can let me stand at the gate yonder?" "well--yes. but if you are the monk's friend, why do you want to see him die?" she made no reply, but took from a pocket a bezant, and contrived to throw its yellow gleam in the sentinel's eyes. "is the gate locked?" "no, it is barred on this side." "does it open into the arena?" "yes." "i do not ask you to violate your orders," she continued, calmly; "only let me go to the gate, and see the man when he is brought out." she offered him the money, and he took it, saying: "very well. i can see no harm in that. go." the gate in question was open barred, and permitted a view of nearly the whole circular interior. the spectacle presented was so startling she caught one of the bars for support. throwing back the veil, she looked, breathing sighs which were almost gasps. the arena was clear, and thickly strewn with wet sand. there were the walls shutting it in, like a pit, and on top of them, on the ascending seats back to the last one--was it a cloud she beheld? a second glance, and she recognized the body of spectators, men, women and children, compacted against the sky. how many of them there were! thousands and thousands! she clasped her hands, and prayed. twelve o'clock was the hour for the expiation. waiting so wearily there at the gate--praying, sighing, weeping by turns--the woman was soon forgotten by the sentinel. she had bought his pity. in his eyes she was only a lover of the doomed monk. an hour passed thus. if the soldier's theory were correct, if she were indeed a poor love-lorn creature come to steal a last look at the unfortunate, she eked small comfort from her study of the cloud of humanity on the benches. their jollity, their frequent laughter and hand-clapping reached her in her retreat. "merciful god!" she kept crying. "are these beings indeed in thy likeness?" in a moment of wandering thought, she gave attention to the fastenings of the gate, and observed the ends of the bar across it rested in double iron sockets on the side toward her; to pass it, she had only to raise the bar clear of the socket and push. afterwhile the door of a chamber nearly opposite her opened, and a man stood in the aperture. he was very tall, gigantic even; and apparently surprised by what he beheld, he stepped out to look at the benches, whereat the light fell upon him and she saw he was black. his appearance called for a roar of groans, and he retired, closing the door behind him. then there was an answering roar from a cell near by at her left. the occupants of the benches applauded long and merrily, crying, "tamerlane! tamerlane!" the woman shrank back terrified. a little later another man entered the arena, from the western gate. going to the centre he looked carefully around him; as if content with the inspection, he went next to a cell and knocked. two persons responded by coming out of the door; one an armed guardsman, the other a monk. the latter wore a hat of clerical style, and a black gown dropping to his bare feet, its sleeves of immoderate length completely muffling his hands. instantly the concourse on the benches arose. there was no shouting--one might have supposed them all suddenly seized with shuddering sympathy. but directly a word began passing from mouth to mouth; at first, it was scarcely more than a murmur; soon it was a byname on every tongue: "the heretic! the heretic!" the monk was sergius. his guard conducted him to the centre of the field, and, taking off his hat, left him there. in going he let his gauntlet fall. sergius picked it up, and gave it to him; then calm, resigned, fearless, he turned to the east, rested his hands on his breast palm to palm, closed his eyes, and raised his face. he may have had a hope of rescue in reserve; certain it is, they who saw him, taller of his long gown, his hair on his shoulders and down his back, his head upturned, the sunlight a radiant imprint on his forehead, and wanting only a nimbus to be the christ in apparition, ceased jeering him; it seemed to them that in a moment, without effort, he had withdrawn his thoughts from this world, and surrendered himself. they could see his lips move; but what they supposed his last prayer was only a quiet recitation: "i believe in god, and jesus christ, his son." the guard withdrawn, three sharp mots of a trumpet rang out from the stand. a door at the left of the tunnel gate was then slowly raised; whereupon a lion stalked out of the darkened depths, and stopped on the edge of the den thus exposed, winking to accustom his eyes to the day-splendor. he lingered there very leisurely, turning his ponderous head from right to left and up and down, like a prisoner questioning if he were indeed at liberty. having viewed the sky and the benches, and filled his deep chest with ample draughts of fresh air, suddenly tamerlane noticed the monk. the head rose higher, the ears erected, and, snuffing like a hound, he fretted his shaggy mane; his yellow eyes changed to coals alive, and he growled and lashed his sides with his tail. a majestic figure was he now. "what is it?" he appeared asking himself. "prey or combat?" still in a maze, he stepped out into the arena, and shrinking close to the sand, inched forward creeping toward the object of his wonder. the spectators had opportunity to measure him, and drink their fill of terror. the monk was a goodly specimen of manhood, young, tall, strong; but a fig for his chances once this enemy struck him or set its teeth in his flesh! an ox could not stand the momentum of that bulk of bone and brawn. it were vain telling how many--not all of them women and children--furtively studied the height of the wall enclosing the pit to make sure of their own safety upon the seats. sergius meantime remained in prayer and recitation; he was prepared for the attack, but as a non-resistant; if indeed he thought of battle, he was not merely unarmed--the sleeves of his gown deprived him of the use of his hands. from the man to the lion, from the lion to the man, the multitude turned shivering, unable nevertheless to look away. presently the lion stopped, whined, and behaved uneasily. was he afraid? such was the appearance when he began trotting around at the base of the wall, halting before the gates, and seeking an escape. under the urgency, whatever it was, from the trot he broke into a gallop, without so much as a glance at the monk. a murmur descended from the benches. it was the people recovering from their horror, and impatient. ere long they became positive in expression; in dread doubtless of losing the catastrophe of the show, they yelled at the cowardly beast. in the height of this tempest, the gate of the tunnel under the grand stand opened quickly, and was as quickly shut. death brings no deeper hush than fell upon the assemblage then. a woman was crossing the sand toward the monk! round sped the lion, forward she went! two victims! well worth the monster's hunger through the three days to be so banqueted on the fourth! there are no laws of behavior for such situations. impulse and instinct rush in and take possession. while the thousands held their breath, they were all quickened to know who the intruder was. she was robed in white, was bareheaded and barefooted. the dress, the action, the seraphic face were not infrequent on the water, and especially in the churches; recognition was instantaneous, and through the eager crowded ranks the whisper flew: "god o' mercy! it is the princess--the princess irene!" strong men covered their eyes, women fainted. the grand stand had been given up to the st. james', and they and their intimates filled it from the top seat to the bottom; and now directly the identity became assured, toward them, or rather to the hegumen conspicuous in their midst, innumerable arms were outstretched, seconding the cry: "save her! save her! let the lion be killed!" easier said than done. crediting the brotherhood with lingering sparks of humanity, the game was beyond their interference. the brute was lord. who dared go in and confront him? about this time, the black man, of whom we have spoken, looked out of his cell again. to him the pleading arms were turned. he saw the monk, the princess, and the lion making its furious circuit--saw them and retreated, but a moment after reappeared, attired in the savageries which were his delight. in the waist-belt he had a short sword, and over his left shoulder a roll like a fisherman's net. and now he did not retreat. the princess reached sergius safely, and placing a hand on his arm, brought him back, as it were, to life and the situation. "fly, little mother--by the way you came--fly!" he cried, in mighty anguish. "o god! it is too late--too late." wringing his hands, he gave way to tears. "no, i will not fly. did i not bring you to this? let death come to us both. better the quick work of the lion than the slow torture of conscience. i will not fly! we will die together. i too believe in god and jesus christ his son." she reached up, and rested her hand upon his shoulder. the repetition of the creed, and her companionship restored his courage, and smiling, despite the tears on his cheeks, he said: "very well, little mother. the army of the martyrs will receive us, and the dear lord is at his mansion door to let us in." the lion now ceased galloping. stopping over in the west quarter of the field, he turned his big burning eyes on the two thus resigning themselves, and crouching, put himself in motion toward them; his mane all on end; his jaws agape, their white armature whiter of the crimson tongue lolling adrip below the lips. he had given up escape, and, his curiosity sated, was bent upon his prey. the charge of cowardice had been premature. the near thunder of his roaring was exultant and awful. there was great ease of heart to the people when nilo--for he it was--taking position between the devoted pair and their enemy, shook the net from his shoulder, and proceeded to give an example of his practice with lions in the jungles of kash-cush. keeping the brute steadily eye to eye, he managed so that while retaining the leaden balls tied to its disengaged corners one in each hand, the net was presently in an extended roll on the ground before him. leaning forward then, his hands bent inwardly knuckle to knuckle at his breast, his right foot advanced, the left behind the right ready to carry him by a step left aside, he waited the attack--to the beholders, a figure in shining ebony, giantesque in proportions, phidian in grace. tamerlane stopped. what new wonder was this? and while making the study, he settled flat on the sand, and sunk his roaring into uneasy whines and growls. by this time every one looking on understood nilo's intent--that he meant to bide the lion's leap, and catch and entangle him in the net. what nerve and nicety of calculation--what certainty of eye--what knowledge of the savage nature dealt with--what mastery of self, limb and soul were required for the feat! just at this crisis there was a tumult in the grand stand. those who turned that way saw a man in glistening armor pushing through the brethren there in most unceremonious sort. in haste to reach the front, he stepped from bench to bench, knocking the gowned churchmen right and left as if they were but so many lay figures. on the edge of the wall, he tossed his sword and shield into the arena, and next instant leaped after them. before astonishment was spent, before the dull of faculties could comprehend the intruder, before minds could be made up to so much as yell, he had fitted the shield to his arm, snatched up the sword, and run to the point of danger. there, with quick understanding of the negro's strategy, he took place behind him, but in front of the princess and the monk. his agility, cumbered though he was, his amazing spirit, together with the thought that the fair woman had yet another champion over whom the lion must go ere reaching her, wrought the whole multitude into ecstasy. they sprang upon the benches, and their shouting was impossible of interpretation except as an indication of a complete revulsion of feeling. in fact, many who but a little before had cheered the lion or cursed him for cowardice now prayed aloud for his victims. the noise was not without effect on the veteran tamerlane. he surveyed the benches haughtily once, then set forward again, intent on nilo. the movement, in its sinuous, flexile gliding, resembled somewhat a serpent's crawl. and now he neither roared nor growled. the lolling tongue dragged the sand; the beating of the tail was like pounding with a flail; the mane all erect trebly enlarged the head; and the eyes were like live coals in a burning bush. the people hushed. nilo stood firm; thunder could as easily have diverted a statue; and behind him, not less steadfast and watchful, count corti kept guard. thirty feet away--twenty-five--twenty--then the great beast stopped, collected himself, and with an indescribable roar launched clear of the ground. up, at the same instant, and forward on divergent lines, went the leaden balls; the netting they dragged after them had the appearance of yellow spray blown suddenly in the air. when the monster touched the sand again, he was completely enveloped. the struggle which ensued--the gnashing of teeth, the bellowing, the rolling and blind tossing and pitching, the labor with the mighty limbs, the snapping of the net, the burrowing into the sand, the further and more inextricable entanglement of the enraged brute may be left to imagination. almost before the spectators realized the altered condition, nilo was stabbing him with the short sword. the well-directed steel at length accomplished the work, and the pride of the cynegion lay still in the bloody tangle--then the benches found voice. amidst the uproar count corti went to nilo. "who art thou?" he asked, in admiration. the king smiled, and signified his inability to hear or speak. whereupon the count led him to the princess. "take heart, fair saint," he said. "the lion is dead, and thou art safe." she scarcely heard him. he dropped upon his knee. "the lion is dead, o princess, and here is the hand which slew him--here thy rescuer." she looked her gratitude to nilo--speak she could not. "and thou, too," the count continued, to the monk, "must have thanks for him." sergius replied: "i give thee thanks, nilo--and thou, noble italian--i am only a little less obliged to thee--thou wast ready with thy sword." he paused, glanced at the grand stand, and went on: "it is plain to me, count corti, that thou thinkest my trial happily ended. the beast is dead truly; but yonder are some not less thirsty for blood. it is for them to say what i must further endure. i am still the heretic they adjudged me. do thou therefore banish me from thy generous mind; then thou canst give it entirely to her who is most in need of it. remove the princess--find a chair for her, and leave me to god." "what further can they do?" asked the count. "heaven hath decided the trial in thy favor. have they another lion?" the propriety of the monk's suggestion was obvious; it was not becoming for the princess to remain in the public eye; besides, under reaction of spirit, she was suffering. "have they another lion?" the count repeated. anxious as he was to assist the princess, he was not less anxious, if there was further combat, to take part in it. the count was essentially a fighting man. the open door of nilo's cell speedily attracted his attention. "help me, sir monk. yonder is a refuge for the princess. let us place her in safety. i will return, and stay with thee. if the reverend christians, thy brethren in the grand stand, are not content, by allah"--he checked himself--"their cruelty would turn the stomach of a mohammedan." a few minutes, and she was comfortably housed in the cell. "now, go to thy place; i will send for a chair, and rejoin thee." at the tunnel gate, the count was met by a number of the st. james', and he forgot his errand. "we have come," said one of them to sergius, "to renew thy arrest." "be it so," sergius replied; "lead on." but count corti strode forward. "by whose authority is this arrest renewed?" he demanded. "our hegumen hath so ordered." "it shall not be--no, by the mother of your christ, it shall not be unless you bring me the written word of his majesty making it lawful." "the hegumen"-- "i have said it, and i carry a sword"--the count struck the hilt of the weapon with his mailed hand, so the clang was heard on the benches. "i have said it, and my sword says it. go, tell thy hegumen." then sergius spoke: "i pray you interfere not. the heavenly father who saved me this once is powerful to save me often." "have done, sir monk," the count returned, with increasing earnestness. "did i not hear thee say the same in thy holy sancta sophia, in such wise that these deserved to cast themselves at thy feet? instead, lo! the lion there. and for the truth, which is the soul of the world as god is its maker--the truth and the maker being the same--it is not interest in thee alone which moves me. she, thy patroness yonder, is my motive as well. there are who will say she followed thee hither being thy lover; but thou knowest better, and so do i. she came bidden by conscience, and except thou live, there will be no ease of conscience for her--never. wherefore, sir monk, hold thy peace. thou shalt no more go hence of thine own will than these shall take thee against it.... return, ye men of blood--return to him who sent you, and tell him my sword vouches my word, being so accustomed all these years i have been a man. bring they the written word of his majesty, i will give way. let them send to him." the brethren stared at the count. had he not been willing to meet old tamerlane with that same sword? they turned about, and were near the tunnel gate going to report, when it was thrown open with great force, and the emperor constantine appeared on horseback, the horse bloody with spurring and necked with foam. riding to the count he drew rein. "sir count, where is my kinswoman?" corti kissed his hand. "she is safe, your majesty--she is in the cell yonder." the emperor's eye fell upon the carcass of the lion. "thou didst it, count?" "no--this man did it." the emperor gazed at nilo, thus designated, and taking a golden chain of fine workmanship from his neck, he threw it over the black king's. at the door of the cell, he dismounted; within, he kissed the princess on the forehead. "a chair will be here directly." "and sergius?" she asked. "the brotherhood must forego their claim now. heaven has signified its will." he thereupon entered into explanation. the necessity upon him was sore and trying, else he had never surrendered sergius to the brotherhood. he expected the hegumen would subject him to discipline--imprisonment or penance. he had even signed the order placing the lion at service, supposing they meant merely a trial of the monk's constancy. withal the proceeding was so offensive he had refused to witness it. an officer came to the palace with intelligence which led him to believe the worst was really intended. to stop it summarily, he had ordered a horse and a guard. another officer reported the princess in the arena with sergius and the lion. with that his majesty had come at speed. and he was grateful to god for the issue. in a short time the sedan was brought, and the princess borne to her house. summoning the brotherhood from the grand stand, the emperor forbade their pursuing sergius further; the punishment had already been too severe. the hegumen protested. constantine arose in genuine majesty, and denouncing all clerical usurpations, he declared that for the future he would be governed by his own judgment in whatever concerned the lives of his subjects and the welfare of his empire. the declaration was heard by the people on the benches. by his order, sergius was conducted to blacherne, and next day installed a janitor of the imperial chapel; thus ending his connection with the brotherhood of the st. james'. "your majesty," said count corti, at the conclusion of the scene in the arena, "i pray a favor." constantine, by this time apprised of the count's gallantry, bade him speak. "give me the keeping of this negro." "if you mean his release from prison, sir count, take him. he can have no more suitable guardian. but it is to be remembered he came to the city with one calling himself the prince of india, and if at any time that mysterious person reappears, the man is to be given back to his master." the count regarded nilo curiously--he was merely recalling the prince. "your majesty is most gracious. i accept the condition." the captain of the guard, coming to the tunnel under the grand stand, was addressed by the sentinel there. "see--here are a dress, a pair of shoes, and a veil. i found them by the gate there." "how came they there?" "a woman asked me to let her stand by the gate, and see the heretic when they brought him out, and i gave her permission. she wore these things." "the princess irene!" exclaimed the officer. "very well. send them to me, and i will have her pleasure taken concerning them." the cynegion speedily returned to its customary state. but the expiation remained in the public mind a date to which all manner of events in city life was referred; none of them, however, of such consequence as the loss to the emperor of the allegiance of the st. james'. thenceforth the brotherhoods were united against him. book vi constantine chapter i the sword of solomon the current of our story takes us once more to the white castle at the mouth of the sweet waters of asia. it is the twenty-fifth of march, . the weather, for some days cloudy and tending to the tempestuous, changed at noon, permitting the sun to show himself in a field of spotless blue. at the edge of the mountainous steep above roumeli hissar, the day-giver lingered in his going down, as loath to leave the life concentrated in the famous narrows in front of the old castle. on the land, there was an army in waiting; therefore the city of tents and brushwood booths extending from the shore back to the hills, and the smoke pervading the perspective in every direction. on the water, swinging to each other, crowding all the shallows of the delta of the little river, reaching out into the sweep of the bosphorus, boats open and boats roofed--scows, barges, galleys oared and galleys with masts--ships--a vast conglomerate raft. about the camp, and to and fro on the raft, men went and came, like ants in storing time. two things, besides the locality, identified them--their turbans, and the crescent and star in the red field of the flags they displayed. history, it would appear, takes pleasure in repetition. full a thousand years before this, a greater army had encamped on the banks of the same sweet waters. then it was of persians; now it is of turks; and curiously there are no soldiers to be seen, but only working men, while the flotilla is composed of carrying vessels; here boats laden with stone; there boats with lime; yonder boats piled high with timber. at length the sun, drawing the last ravelling of light after it, disappeared. about that time, the sea gate in front of the palace of julian down at constantinople opened, and a boat passed out into the marmora. five men plied the oars. two sat near the stern. these latter were count corti and ali, son of abed-din the faithful. two hours prior, ali, with a fresh catch of fish, entered the gate, and finding no purchaser in the galley, pushed on to the landing, and thence to the palace. "o emir," he said, when admitted to the count, "the light of the world, our lord mahommed is arrived." the intelligence seemed to strike the count with a sudden ague. "where is he?" he asked, his voice hollow as from a closed helmet. ere the other could answer, he added a saving clause: "may the love of allah be to him a staff of life!" "he is at the white castle with mollahs, pachas, and engineers a host.... what a way they were in, rushing here and there, like squealing swine, and hunting quarters, if but a crib to lie in and blow! shintan take them, beards, boots, and turbans! so have they lived on fat things, slept on divans of down under hangings of silk, breathed perfumed airs in crowded harems, heaven knows if now they are even fit to stop an arrow. they thought the old castle of bajazet-ilderim another jehan-numa. by the delights of paradise, o emir--ha, ha, ha!--it was good to see how little the light of the world cared for them! at the castle, he took in with him for household the ancient _gabour_ ortachi-khalil and a prince of india, whom he calls his messenger of the stars; the rest were left to shift for themselves till their tents arrive. halting the incomparables, [footnote: janissaries.] out beyond roumeli-hissar, he summoned the three tails, [footnote: pachas.] nearly dead from fatigue, having been in the saddle since morning, and rode off with them fast as his arab could gallop across the country, and down the long hill behind therapia, drawing rein at the gate before the palace of the princess irene." "the palace of the princess irene," the count repeated. "what did he there?" "he dismounted, looked at the brass plate on the gate-post, went in, and asked if she were at home. being told she was yet in the city, he said: 'a message for her to be delivered to-night. here is a purse to pay for going. tell her aboo-obeidah, the singing sheik'--only the prophet knows of such a sheik--'has been here, bidden by sultan mahommed to see if her house had been respected, and inquire if she has yet her health and happiness.' with that, he called for his horse, and went through the garden and up to the top of the promontory; then he returned to hissar faster than he went to therapia; and when, to take boat for the white castle, he walked down the height, two of the three tails had to be lifted from their saddles, so nearly dead were they." here ali stopped to laugh. "pardon me, o emir," he resumed, "if i say last what i should have said first, it being the marrow of the bone i bring you.... before sitting to his pilaf, our lord mahommed sent me here. 'thou knowest to get in and out of the unbelieving city,' he said. 'go privily to the emir mirza, and bid him come to me to-night.'" "what now, ali?" "my lord was too wise to tell me." "it is a great honor, ali. i shall get ready immediately." when the night was deep enough to veil the departure, the count seated himself in the fisher's boat, a great cloak covering his armor. half a mile below the sweet waters the party was halted. "what is this, ali?" "the lord mahommed's galleys of war are down from the black sea. these are their outlyers." at the side of one of the vessels, the count showed the sultan's signet, and there was no further interruption. a few words now with respect to corti. he had become a christian. next, the bewilderment into which the first sight of the princess irene had thrown him instead of passing off had deepened into hopeless love. and farther--constantine, a genuine knight himself; in fact more knight than statesman; delighting in arms, armor, hounds, horses, and martial exercises, including tournaments, hawking, and hunting, found one abiding regret on his throne--he could have a favorite but never a comrade. the denial only stimulated the desire, until finally he concluded to bring the italian to court for observation and trial, his advancement to depend upon the fitness, tact, and capacity he might develop. one day an order was placed in the count's hand, directing him to find quarters at blacherne. the count saw the honor intended, and discerned that acceptance would place him in better position to get information for mahommed, but what would the advantage avail if he were hindered in forwarding his budget promptly? no, the mastership of the gate was of most importance; besides which the seclusion of the julian residence was so favorable to the part he was playing; literally he had no one there to make him afraid. upon receipt of the order he called for his horse, and rode to blacherne, where his argument of the necessity of keeping the moslem crew of his galley apart brought about a compromise. his majesty would require the count's presence during the day, but permit him the nights at julian. he was also allowed to retain command of the gate. a few months then found him in constantine's confidence, the imperial favorite. yet more surprising as a coincidence, he actually became to the emperor what he had been to mahommed. he fenced and jousted with him, instructed him in riding, trained him to sword and bow. every day during certain hours he had his new master's life at mercy. with a thrust of sword, stroke of battle-axe, or flash of an arrow, it was in his power to rid mahommed of an opponent concerning whom he wrote: "o my lord, i think you are his better, yet if ever you meet him in personal encounter, have a care." but the unexpected now happened to the count. he came to have an affection for this second lord which seriously interfered with his obligations to the first one. its coming about was simple. association with the greek forced a comparison with the turk. the latter's passion was a tide before which the better gifts of god to rulers--mercy, justice, discrimination, recognition of truth, loyalty, services--were as willows in the sweep of a wave. constantine, on the other hand, was thoughtful, just, merciful, tender-hearted, indisposed to offend or to fancy provocation intended. the difference between a man with and a man without conscience--between a king all whose actuations are dominated by religion and a king void of both conscience and religion--slowly but surely, we say, the difference became apparent to the count, and had its inevitable consequences. such was the count's new footing in blacherne. the changes wrought in his feeling were forwarded more than he was aware by the standing accorded him in the reception-room of the princess irene. after the affair at the cynegion he had the delicacy not to push himself upon the attention of the noble lady. in preference he sent a servant every morning to inquire after her health. ere long he was the recipient of an invitation to come in person; after which his visits increased in frequency. going to blacherne, and coming from it, he stopped at her house, and with every interview it seemed his passion for her intensified. now it were not creditable to the young princess' discernment to say she was blind to his feeling; yet she was careful to conceal the discovery from him, and still more careful not to encourage his hope. she placed the favor shown him to the account of gratitude; at the same time she admired him, and was deeply interested in the religious sentiment he was beginning to manifest. in the count's first audience after the rescue from the lion, she explained how she came to be drawn to the cynegion. this led to detail of her relations with sergius, concluding with the declaration: "i gave him the signal to speak in sancta sophia, and felt i could not live if he died the death, sent to it by me." "princess," the count replied, "i heard the monk's sermon in sancta sophia, but did not know of your giving the signal. has any one impugned your motive in going to the cynegion? give me his name. my sword says you did well." "count corti, the lord has taken care of his own." "as you say, princess irene. hear me before addressing yourself to something else.... i remember the words of the creed--or if i have them wrong correct me: 'i believe in god, and jesus christ, his son.'" "it is word for word." "am i to understand you gave him the form?" "the idea is father hilarion's." "and the two articles. are they indeed sayings of jesus christ?" "even so." "give me the book containing them." taking a new testament from the table, she gave it to him. "you will find the sayings easily. on the margins opposite them there are markings illuminated in gold." "thanks, o princess, most humbly. i will return the book." "no, count, it is yours." an expression she did not understand darkened his face. "are you a christian?" she asked. he flushed deeply, and bowed while answering: "my mother is a christian." that night count corti searched the book, and found that the strength of faith underlying his mother's prayers for his return to her, and the princess' determination to die with the monk, were but christian lights. "princess irene," he said one day, "i have studied the book you gave me; and knowing now who christ is, i am ready to accept your creed. tell me how i may know myself a believer?" a lamp in the hollow of an alabaster vase glows through the transparency; so her countenance responded to the joy behind it. "render obedience to his commands--do his will, o count--then wilt thou be a believer in christ, and know it." the darkness she had observed fall once before on his face obscured it again, and he arose and went out in silence. brave he certainly was, and strong. who could strike like him? he loved opposition for the delight there was in overcoming it; yet in his chamber that night he was never so weak. he resorted to the book, but could not read. it seemed to accuse him. "thou islamite--thou son of mahomet, though born of a christian, whom servest thou? judas, what dost thou in this city? hypocrite--traitor--which is thy master, mahomet or christ?" he fell upon his knees, tore at his beard, buried his head in his arms. he essayed prayer to christ. "jesus--mother of jesus--o my mother!" he cried in agony. the hour he was accustomed to give to mahommed came round. he drew out the writing materials. "the princess"--thus he began a sentence, but stopped--something caught hold of his heart--the speaking face of the beloved woman appeared to him--her eyes were reproachful--her lips moved--she spoke: "count corti, i am she whom thou lovest; but what dost thou? is it not enough to betray my kinsman? thy courage--what makest thou of it but wickedness? ... write of me to thy master. come every day, and contrive that i speak, then tell him of it. am i sick? tell him of it. do i hold to this or that? tell him. am i shaken by visions of ruin to my country? tell him of them. what is thy love if not the servant for hire of his love? traitor--panderer!" the count pushed the table from him, and sprang to foot writhing. to shut out the word abhorrent above all other words, he clapped his hands tight over his ears--in vain. "panderer!"--he heard with his soul--"panderer! when thou hast delivered me to mahommed, what is he to give thee? how much?" thus shame, like a wild dog, bayed at him. for relief he ran out into the garden. and it was only the beginning of misery. such the introduction or first chapter, what of the catastrophe? he could not sleep for shame. in the morning he ordered his horse, but had not courage to go to blacherne. how could he look at the kindly face of the master he was betraying? he thought of the princess. could he endure her salutation? she whom he was under compact to deliver to mahommed? a paroxysm of despair seized him. he rode to the gate st. romain, and out of it into the country. gallop, gallop--the steed was good--his best arab, fleet and tireless. noon overtook him--few things else could--still he galloped. the earth turned into a green ribbon under the flying hoofs, and there was relief in the speed. the air, whisked through, was soothing. at length he came to a wood, wild and interminable, belgrade, though he knew it not, and dismounting by a stream, he spent the day there. if now and then the steed turned its eyes upon him, attracted by his sighs, groans and prayer, there was at least no accusation in them. the solitude was restful; and returning after nightfall, he entered the city through the sortie under the palace of blacherne known as the cercoporta. it is well pain of spirit has its intermissions; otherwise long life could not be; and if sleep bring them, so much the better. next day betimes, the count was at blacherne. "i pray grace, o my lord!" he said, speaking to the question in the emperor's look. "yesterday i had to ride. this confinement in the city deadens me. i rode all day." the good, easy master sighed: "would i had been with you, count." thus he dismissed the truancy. but with the princess it was a lengthy chapter. if the emperor was never so gracious, she seemed never so charming. he wrote to mahommed in the evening, and walked the garden the residue of the night. so weeks and months passed, and march came--even the night of the twenty-fifth, with its order from the sultan to the white castle--an interval of indecision, shame, and self-indictment. how many plans of relief he formed who can say? suicide he put by, a very last resort. there was also a temptation to cut loose from mahommed, and go boldly over to the emperor. that would be a truly christian enlistment for the approaching war; and aside from conformity to his present sympathies, it would give him a right to wear the princess' favor on his helmet. but a fear shook the resort out of mind. mahommed, whether successful or defeated, would demand an explanation of him, possibly an accounting. he knew the sultan. of all the schemes presented, the most plausible was flight. there was the gate, and he its keeper, and beyond the gate, the sunny italian shore, and his father's castle. the seas and sailing between were as green landscapes to a weary prisoner, and he saw in them only the joy of going and freedom to do. welcome, and to god the praise! more than once he locked his portables of greatest value in the cabin of the galley. but alas! he was in bonds. life in constantinople now comprehended two of the ultimate excellencies to him, princess irene and christ--and their joinder in the argument he took to be no offence. from one to another of these projects he passed, and they but served to hide the flight of time. he was drifting--ahead, and not far, he heard the thunder of coming events--yet he drifted. in this condition, the most envied man in constantinople and the most wretched, the sultan's order was delivered to him by ali. the time for decision was come. tired--ashamed--angry with himself, he determined to force the end. the count arrived at the castle, was immediately admitted to the sultan; indeed, had he been less resolute, his master's promptitude would have been a circumstance of disturbing significance. observation satisfied him mahommed was in the field; for with all his epicureanism in times of peace, when a campaign was in progress the conqueror resolved himself into a soldierly example of indifference to luxury. in other words, with respect to furnishment, the interior of the old castle presented its every day ruggedness. one lamp fixed to the wall near the door of the audience chamber struggled with the murk of a narrow passage, giving to view an assistant chamberlain, an armed sentinel, and two jauntily attired pages in waiting. surrendering his sword to the chamberlain, the count halted before the door, while being announced; at the same time, he noticed a man come out of a neighboring apartment clad in black velvet from head to foot, followed closely by a servant. it was the prince of india. the mysterious person advanced slowly, his eyes fixed on the floor, his velvet-shod feet giving out no sound. his air indicated deep reflection. in previous encounters with him, the count had been pleased; now his sensations were of repugnance mixed with doubt and suspicion. he had not time to account for the change. it may have had origin in the higher prescience sometimes an endowment of the spirit by which we stand advised of a friend or an enemy; most likely, however, it was a consequence of the curious tales abroad in constantinople; for at the recognition up sprang the history of the prince's connection with lael, and her abandonment by him, the more extraordinary from the evidences of his attachment to her. up sprang also the opinion of universal prevalence in the city that he had perished in the great fire. what did it all mean? what kind of man was he? the servant carried a package wrapped in gold-embroidered green silk. coming near, the prince raised his eyes--stopped--smiled--and said: "count corti--or mirza the emir--which have i the honor of meeting?" in spite of the offence he felt, corti blushed, such a flood of light did the salutation let in upon the falsity of his position. far from losing presence of mind, he perceived at once how intimately the prince stood in the councils of the sultan. "the lord mahommed must be heard before i can answer," he returned, calmly. in an instant the prince became cordial. "that was well answered," he said. "i am pleased to have my judgment of you confirmed. your mission has been a trying one, but you have conducted it like a master. the lord mahommed has thanked me many times that i suggested you for it. he is impatient to see you. we will go in together." mahommed, in armor, was standing by a table on which were a bare cimeter, a lamp brightly burning, and two large unrolled maps. in one of the latter, the count recognized constantinople and its environs cast together from his own surveys. retired a few steps were the two viziers, kalil pacha and his rival, saganos pacha, the mollah kourani, and the sheik akschem-sed-din. the preaching of the mollah had powerfully contributed to arousing the fanatical spirit of the sultan's mohammedan subjects. the four were standing in the attitude usual to turkish officials in presence of a superior, their heads bowed, their hands upon their stomachs. in speaking, if they raised their eyes from the floor it was to shoot a furtive glance, then drop them again. "this is the grand design of the work by which you will be governed," mahommed said to the counsellors, laying the finger points of his right hand upon the map unknown to the count, and speaking earnestly. "you will take it, and make copies tonight; for if the stars fail not, i will send the masons and their workmen to the other shore in the morning." the advisers saluted--it would be difficult to say which of them with the greatest unction. looking sharply at kalil, the master asked: "you say you superintended the running of the lines in person?" kalil saluted separately, and returned: "my lord may depend upon the survey." "very well. i wait now only the indication of heaven that the time is ripe for the movement. is the prince of india coming?" "i am here, my lord." mahommed turned as the prince spoke, and let his eyes rest a moment upon count corti, without a sign of recognition. "come forward, prince," he said. "what is the message you bring me?" "my lord," the prince replied, after prostration, "in the hebrew scriptures there is a saying in proof of the influence the planets have in the affairs of men: 'then fought the kings of canaan in taanach by the waters of megiddo; they fought from heaven; the stars in their courses fought against sisera.' now art thou truly sultan of sultans. to-morrow--the twenty-sixth of march--will be memorable amongst days, for then thou mayst begin the war with the perfidious greek. from four o'clock in the morning the stars which fought against sisera will fight for mahommed. let those who love him salute and rejoice." the counsellors, dropping on their knees, fell forward, their faces on their hands. the prince of india did the same. count corti alone remained standing, and mahommed again observed him. "hear you," the latter said, to his officers. "go assemble the masons and their workmen, the masters of boats, and the chiefs charged with duties. at four o'clock in the morning i will move against europe. the stars have said it, and their permission is my law. rise!" as his associates were moving backward with repeated genuflections, the prince of india spoke: "o most favored of men! let them stay a moment." at a sign from the sultan they halted; thereupon the prince of india beckoned syama to come, and taking the package from his hands, he laid it on the table. "for my lord mahommed," he said. "what is it?" mahommed demanded. "a sign of conquest.... my lord knows king solomon ruled the world in his day, its soul of wisdom. at his death dominion did not depart from him. the secret ministers in the earth, the air and the waters, obedient to allah, became his slaves. my lord knows of whom i speak. who can resist them? ... in the tomb of hiram, king of tyre, the friend of king solomon, i found a sarcophagus. it was covered with a model in marble of the temple of the hebrew almighty god. removing the lid, lo! the mummy of hiram, a crown upon its head, and at its feet the sword of solomon, a present without price. i brought it away, resolved to give it to him whom the stars should elect for the overthrow of the superstitions devised by jesus, the bastard son of joseph the carpenter of nazareth.... undo the wrappings, lord mahommed." the sultan obeyed, and laying the last fold of the cloth aside, drew back staring, and with uplifted hands. "kalil--kourani--akschem-sed-din--all of you, come look. tell me what it is--it blinds me." the sword of solomon lay before them; its curved blade a gleam of splendor, its scabbard a mass of brilliants, its hilt a ruby so pure we may say it retained in its heart the life of a flame. "take it in hand, lord mahommed," said the prince of india. the young sultan lifted the sword, and as he did so down a groove in its back a stream of pearls started and ran, ringing musically, and would not rest while he kept the blade in motion. he was speechless from wonder. "now may my lord march upon constantinople, for the stars and every secret minister of solomon will fight for him." so saying, the prince knelt before the sultan, and laid his lips on the instep of his foot, adding: "oh, my lord! with that symbol in hand, march, and surely as tabor is among the mountains and carmel by the sea, so surely christ will give place to mahomet in sancta sophia. march at four o'clock." and the counsellors left kisses on the same instep, and departed. thence through the night the noises of preparation kept the space between the hills of the narrows alive with echoes. at the hour permitted by the stars--four o'clock--a cloud of boats cast loose from the asiatic shore, and with six thousand laborers, handmen to a thousand master masons, crossed at racing speed to europe. "god is god, and mahomet is his prophet," they shouted. the vessels of burden, those with lime, those with stone, those with wood, followed as they were called, and unloading, hauled out, to give place to others. before sun up the lines of the triangular fort whose walls near roumeli-hissar are yet intact, prospectively a landmark enduring as the pyramids, were defined and swarming with laborers. the three pachas, kalil, sarudje, and saganos, superintended each a side of the work, and over them all, active and fiercely zealous, moved mahommed, the sword of solomon in his hand. and there was no lack of material for the structure extensive as it was. asia furnished its quota, and christian towns and churches on the bosphorus were remorselessly levelled for the stones in them; wherefore the outer faces of the curtains and towers are yet speckled with marbles in block, capital and column. thus mahommed, taking his first step in the war so long a fervid dream, made sure of his base of operations. on the twenty-eighth of august, the work completed, from his camp on the old asometon promontory he reconnoitred the country up to the ditch of constantinople, and on the first of september betook himself to adrianople. chapter ii mahommed and count corti make a wager upon the retirement of the prince of india and the counsellors, mahommed took seat by the table, and played with the sword of solomon, making the pearls travel up and down the groove in the blade, listening to their low ringing, and searching for inscriptions. this went on until count corti began to think himself forgotten. at length the sultan, looking under the guard, uttered an exclamation--looked again--and cried out: "o allah! it is true!--may i be forgiven for doubting him!--come, mirza, come see if my eyes deceive me. here at my side!" the count mastered his surprise, and was presently leaning over the sultan's shoulder. "you remember, mirza, we set out together studying hebrew. against your will i carried you along with me until you knew the alphabet, and could read a little. you preferred italian, and when i brought the learned men, and submitted to them that hebrew was one of a family of tongues more or less alike, and would have sent you with them to the sidonian coast for inscriptions, you refused. do you remember?" "my lord, those were the happiest days of my life." mahommed laughed. "i kept you three days on bread and water, and let you off then because i could not do without you.... but for the matter now. under this guard--look--are not the brilliants set in the form of letters?" corti examined closely. "yes, yes; there are letters--i see them plainly--a name." "spell it." "s-o-l-o-m-o-n." "then i have not deceived myself," mahommed exclaimed. "nor less has the prince of india deceived me." he grew more serious. "a marvellous man! i cannot make him out. the more i do with him the more incomprehensible he becomes. the long past is familiar to him as the present to me. he is continually digging up things ages old, and amazing me with them. several times i have asked him when he was born, and he has always made the same reply: 'i will tell when you are lord of constantinople.' ... how he hates christ and the christians! ... this is indeed the sword of solomon--and he found it in the tomb of hiram, and gives it to me as the elect of the stars now. ponder it, o mirza! now at the mid of the night in which i whistle up my dogs of war to loose them on the _gabour_--how, mirza--what ails you? why that change of countenance? is he not a dog of an unbeliever? on your knees before me--i have more to tell you than to ask. no, spurs are troublesome. to the door and bid the keeper there bring a stool--and look lest the lock have an ear hanging to it. old kalil, going out, though bowing, and lip-handing me, never took his eyes off you." the stool brought, corti was about to sit. "take off your cap"--mahommed spoke sternly--"for as you are not the mirza i sent away, i want to see your face while we talk. sit here, in the full of the light." the count seated, placed his hooded cap on the floor. he was perfectly collected. mahommed fingered the ruby hilt while searching the eyes which as calmly searched his. "how brave you are!" the sultan began, but stopped. "poor mirza!" he began again, his countenance softened. one would have said some tender recollection was melting the shell of his heart. "poor mirza! i loved you better than i loved my father, better than i loved my brothers, well as i loved my mother--with a love surpassing all i ever knew but one, and of that we will presently speak. if honor has a soul, it lives in you, and the breath you draw is its wine, purer than the first expressage of grapes from the prophet's garden down by medina. your eyes look truth, your tongue drips it as a broken honey-comb drips honey. you are truth as god is god." he was speaking sincerely. "fool--fool--that i let you go!--and i would not--no, by the rose-door of paradise and the golden stairs to the house of allah, i would not had i loved my full moon of full moons less. she was parted from me; and with whose eyes could i see her so well as with yours, o my falcon? who else would report to me so truly her words? love makes men and lions mad; it possessed me; and i should have died of it but for your ministering. wherefore, o mirza"-- the count had been growing restive; now he spoke. "my lord is about committing himself to some pledge. he were wise, did he hear me first." "perhaps so," the sultan rejoined, uncertainly, but added immediately: "i will hear you." "it is true, as my lord said, i am not the mirza he despatched to italy. the changes i have undergone are material; and in recounting them i anticipate his anger. he sees before him the most wretched of men to whom death would be mercy." "is it so bad? you were happy when you went away. was not the mission to your content?" "my lord's memory is a crystal cup from which nothing escapes--a cup without a leak. he must recall how i prayed to stay with him." "yes, yes." "my dread was prophetic." "tell me of the changes." "i will--and truly as there is but one god, and he the father of life and maker of things. first, then, the affection which at my going was my lord's, and which gave me to see him as the light of the world, and the perfection of glory in promise, is now divided." "you mean there is another light of the world? be it so, and still you leave me flattered. how far you had to travel before finding the other! who is he?" "the emperor of the greeks." "constantine? are his gifts so many and rich? the next." "i am a christian." "indeed? perhaps you can tell me the difference between god and allah. yesterday kourani said they were the same." "nay, my lord, the difference is between christ and mahomet." "the mother of the one was a jewess, the mother of the other an arab--i see. go on." the count did not flinch. "my lord, great as is your love of the princess irene"--mahommed half raised his hands, his brows knit, his eyes filled with fire, but the count continued composedly--"mine is greater." the sultan recovered himself. "the proof, the proof!" he said, his voice a little raised. "my love of her is consuming me, but i see you alive." "my lord's demand is reasonable. i came here to make the avowal, and die. would my lord so much?" "you would die for the princess?" "my lord has said it." "is there not something else in the urgency?" "yes--honor." the count's astonishment was unspeakable. he expected an outburst of wrath unappeasable, a summons for an executioner; instead, mahommed's eyes became humid, and resting his elbow on the table, and his face on the thumb and forefinger, he said, gazing sorrowfully: "ahmed was my little brother. his mother published before my father's death, that my mother was a slave. she was working for her child already, and i had him smothered in a bath. cruel? god forgive me! it was my duty to provide for the peace of my people. i had a right to take care of myself; yet will i never be forgiven. kismet!... i have had many men slain since. i travel, going to mighty events beckoned by destiny. the ordinary cheap soul cannot understand how necessary it is that my path should be smooth and clear; for sometime i may want to run; and he will amuse or avenge himself by stamping me in history a monster without a soul. kismet! ... but you, my poor mirza, you should know me better. you are my brother without guile. i am not afraid to love you. i do love you. let us see.... your letters from constantinople--i have them all--told me so much more than you intended, i could not suspect your fidelity. they prepared me for everything you have confessed. hear how in my mind i disposed of them point by point.... 'mirza,' i said, 'pities the _gabour_ emperor; in the end he will love him. loving a hundred men is less miraculous in a man than loving one. he will make comparisons. why not? the _gabour_ appeals to him through his weakness, i through my strength. i would rather be feared than pitied. moreover, the _gabour's_ day runs to its close, and as it closes, mine opens. pity never justified treason.' ... and i said, too, on reading the despatch detailing your adventures in italy: 'poor mirza! now has he discovered he is an italian, stolen when a child, and having found his father's castle and his mother, a noble woman, he will become a christian, for so would i in his place.' did i stop there? the wife of the pacha who received you from your abductors is in broussa. i sent to her asking if she had a keepsake or memento which would help prove your family and country. see what she returned to me." from under a cloth at the further end of the table, mahommed drew a box, and opening it, produced a collar of lace fastened with a cameo pin. on the pin there was a graven figure. "tell me, mirza, if you recognize the engraving." the count took the cameo, looked at it, and replied, with a shaking voice: "the arms of the corti! god be praised!" "and here--what are these, and what the name on them?" mahommed gave him a pair of red morocco half-boots for a child, on which, near the tops, a name was worked in silk. "it is mine, my lord--my name--'ugo.'" he cast himself before the sultan, and embraced his knees, saying, in snatches as best he could: "i do not know what my lord intends--whether he means i am to die or live--if it be death, i pray him to complete his mercy by sending these proofs to my mother"-- "poor mirza, arise! i prefer to have your face before me." directly the count was reseated, mahommed continued: "and you, too, love the princess irene? you say you love her more than i? and you thought i could not endure hearing you tell it? that i would summon black hassan with his bowstring? with all your opportunities, your seeing and hearing her, as the days multiplied from tens to hundreds, is it for me to teach you she will come to no man except as a sacrifice? what great thing have you to offer her? while i--well, by this sword of solomon, to-morrow morning i set out to say to her: 'for thy love, o my full moon of full moons, for thy love thou shalt have the redemption of thy church.'... and besides, did i not foresee your passion? courtiers stoop low and take pains to win favor; but no courtier, not even a professional, intending merely to please me, could have written of her as you did; and by that sign, o mirza, i knew you were in the extremity of passion. offended? not so, not so! i sent you to take care of her--fight for her--die, if her need were so great. of whom might i expect such service but a lover? did i not, the night of our parting, foretell what would happen?" he paused gazing at the ruby of the ring on his finger. "see, mirza! there has not been a waking hour since you left me but i have looked at this jewel; and it has kept color faithfully. often as i beheld it, i said: 'mirza loves her because he cannot help it; yet he is keeping honor with me. mirza is truth, as god is god. from his hand will i receive her in constantinople'"-- "o my lord"-- "peace, peace! the night wanes, and you have to return. of what was i speaking? oh, yes"-- "but hear me, my lord. at the risk of your displeasure i must speak." "what is it?" "in her presence my heart is always like to burst, yet, as i am to be judged in the last great day, i have kept faith with my lord. once she thanked me--it was after i offered myself to the lion--o heaven! how nearly i lost my honor! oh, the agony of that silence! the anguish of that remembrance! i have kept the faith, my lord. but day by day now the will to keep it grows weaker. all that holds me steadfast is my position in constantinople. what am i there?" the count buried his face in his hands, and through the links in his surcoat the tremor which shook his body was apparent. mahommed waited. "what am i there? having come to see the goodness of the emperor, i must run daily to betray him. i am a christian; yet as judas sold his master, i am under compact to sell my religion. i love a noble woman, yet am pledged to keep her safely, and deliver her to another. o my lord, my lord! this cannot go on. shame is a vulture, and it is tearing me--my heart bleeds in its beak. release me, or give me to death. if you love me, release me." "poor mirza!" "my lord, i am not afraid." mahommed struck the table violently, and his eyes glittered. "that ever one should think i loved a coward! yet more intolerable, that he whom i have called brother should know me so little! can it be, o mirza, can it be, you tell me these things imagining them new to me? ... let me have done. what we are saying would have become us ten years ago, not now. it is unmanly. i had a purpose in sending for you.... your mission in constantinople ends in the morning at four o'clock. in other words, o mirza, the condition passes from preparation for war with the _gabour_ to war. observe now. you are a fighting man--a knight of skill and courage. in the rencounters to which i am going--the sorties, the assaults, the duels single and in force, the exchanges with all arms, bow, arbalist, guns small and great, the mines and countermines--you cannot stay out. you must fight. is it not so?" corti's head arose, his countenance brightened. "my lord, i fear i run forward of your words--forgive me." "yes, give ear.... the question now is, whom will you fight--me or the _gabour?_" "o my lord"-- "be quiet, i say. the issue is not whether you love me less. i prefer you give him your best service." "how, my lord?" "i am not speaking in contempt, but with full knowledge of your superiority with weapons--of the many of mine who must go down before you. and that you may not be under restraint of conscience or arm-tied in the melee, i not only conclude your mission, but release you from every obligation to me." "every obligation!" "i know my words, emir, yet i will leave nothing uncertain.... you will go back to the city free of every obligation to me--arm-free, mind-free. be a christian, if you like. send me no more despatches advisory of the emperor"-- "and the princess irene, my lord?" mahommed smiled at the count's eagerness. "have patience, mirza.... of the moneys had from me, and the properties heretofore mine in trust, goods, horses, arms, armor, the galley and its crew, i give them to you without an accounting. you cannot deliver them to me or dispose of them, except with an explanation which would weaken your standing in blacherne, if not undo you utterly. you have earned them." corti's face reddened. "with all my lord's generosity, i cannot accept this favor. honor"-- "silence, emir, and hear me. i have never been careless of your honor. when you set out for italy, preparatory to the mission at constantinople, you owed me duty, and there was no shame in the performance; but now--so have the changes wrought--that which was honorable to mirza the emir is scandalous to count corti. after four o'clock you will owe me no duty; neither will you be in my service. from that hour mirza, my falcon, will cease to be. he will have vanished. or if ever i know him more, it will be as count corti, christian, stranger, and enemy." "enemy--my lord's enemy? never!" the count protested with extended arms. "yes, circumstances will govern. and now the princess irene." mahommed paused; then, summoning his might of will, and giving it expression in a look, he laid a forcible hand on the listener's shoulder. "of her now.... i have devised a promotion for you, emir. after to-night we will be rivals." corti was speechless--he could only stare. "by the rose-door of paradise--the only oath fit for a lover--or, as more becoming a knight, by this sword of solomon, emir, i mean the rivalry to be becoming and just. i have an advantage of you. with women rank and riches are as candles to moths. on the other side your advantage is double; you are a christian, and may be in her eyes day after day. and not to leave you in mean condition, i give you the moneys and property now in your possession; not as a payment--god forbid!--but for pride's sake--my pride. mahommed the sultan may not dispute with a knight who has only a sword." "i have estates in italy." "they might as well be in the moon. i shall enclose constantinople before you could arrange with the jews, and have money enough to buy a feather for your cap. if this were less true, comes then the argument: how can you dispose of the properties in hand, and quiet the gossips in the _gabour's_ palace? 'where are your horses?' they will ask. what answer have you? 'where your galley?' answer. 'where your mohammedan crew?' answer." the count yielded the debate, saying: "i cannot comprehend my lord. such thing was never heard of before." "must men be restrained because the thing they wish to do was never heard of before? shall i not build a mosque with five minarets because other builders stopped with three? ... to the sum of it all now. christian or moslem, are you willing to refer our rivalry for the young woman to god?" "my wonder grows with listening to my lord." "nay, this surprises you because it is new. i have had it in mind for months. it did not come to me easily. it demanded self-denial--something i am unused to.... here it is--i am willing to call heaven in, and let it decide whether she shall be mine or yours--this lily of paradise whom all men love at sight. dare you as much?" the soldier spirit arose in the count. "now or then, here or there, as my lord may appoint. i am ready. he has but to name his champion." "i protest. the duel would be unequal. as well match a heron and a hawk. there is a better way of making our appeal. listen.... the walls of constantinople have never succumbed to attack. hosts have dashed against them, and fled or been lost. it may be so with me; but i will march, and in my turn assault them, and thou defending with thy best might. if i am beaten, if i retire, be the cause of failure this or that, we--you and i, o mirza--will call it a judgment of heaven, and the princess shall be yours; but if i success and enter the city, it shall be a judgment no less, and then"--mahommed's eyes were full of fire--"then"-- "what then, my lord?" "thou shalt see to her safety in the last struggle, and conduct her to sancta sophia, and there deliver her to me as ordered by god." corti was never so agitated. he turned pale and red--he trembled visibly. mahommed asked mockingly: "is it mirza i am treating with, or count corti? are christians so unwilling to trust god?" "but, my lord, it is a wager you offer me." "call it so." "and its conditions imply slavery for the princess. change them, my lord--allow her to be consulted and have her will, be the judgment this or that." mahommed clinched his hands. "am i a brute? did ever woman lay her head on my breast perforce?" the count replied, firmly: "such a condition would be against us both alike." the sultan struggled with himself a moment. "be it so," he rejoined. "the wager is my proposal, and i will go through with it. take the condition, emir. if i win, she shall come to me of her free will or not at all." "a wife, my lord?" "in my love first, and in my household first--my sultana." the animation which then came to the count was wonderful. he kissed mahommed's hand. "now has my lord outdone himself in generosity. i accept. in no other mode could the issue be made so absolutely a determination of heaven." mahommed arose. "we are agreed.--the interview is finished.--ali is waiting for you." he replaced the cover on the box containing the collar and the half-boots. "i will send these to the countess your mother; for hereafter you are to be to me ugo, count corti.... my falcon hath cast its jess and hood. mirza is no more. farewell mirza." corti was deeply moved. prostrating himself, he arose, and replied: "i go hence more my lord's lover than ever. death to the stranger who in my presence takes his name in vain." as he was retiring, mahommed spoke again: "a word, count.... in what we are going to, the comfort and safety of the princess irene may require you to communicate with me. you have ready wit for such emergencies. leave me a suggestion." corti reflected an instant. "the signal must proceed from me," he said. "my lord will pitch his tent in sight"-- "by solomon, and this his sword, yes! every _gabour_ who dares look over the wall shall see it while there is a hill abiding." the count bowed. "i know my lord, and give him this--god helping me, i will make myself notorious to the besiegers as he will be to the besieged. if at any time he sees my banderole, or if it be reported to him, let him look if my shield be black; if so, he shall come himself with a shield the color of mine, and place himself in my view. my lord knows i make my own arrows. if i shoot one black feathered, he must pick it up. the ferrule will be of hollow lead covering a bit of scrip." "once more, count corti, the issue is with god. good night." traversing the passage outside the door, the count met the prince of india. "an hour ago i would have entitled you emir: but now"--the prince smiled while speaking--"i have stayed to thank count corti for his kindness to my black friend nilo." "your servant?" "my friend and ally--nilo the king.... if the count desires to add to the obligation, he will send the royal person to me with ali when he returns to-night." "i will send him." "thanks, count corti." the latter lingered, gazing into the large eyes and ruddy face, expecting at least an inquiry after lael. he received merely a bow, and the words: "we will meet again." night was yet over the city, when ali, having landed the count, drew out of the gate with nilo. the gladness of the king at being restored to his master can be easily fancied. chapter iii the bloody harvest in june, a few days after the completion of the enormous work begun by mahommed on the asometon promontory, out of a gate attached to the high residence of blacherne, familiarly known as the caligaria, there issued a small troop of horsemen of the imperial military establishment. the leader of this party--ten in all--was count corti. quite a body of spectators witnessed the exit, and in their eyes he was the most gallant knight they had ever seen. they cheered him as, turning to the right after issuance from the gate, he plunged at a lively trot into the ravine at the foot of the wall, practically an immense natural fosse. "god and our lady of blacherne," they shouted, and continued shouting while he was in sight, notwithstanding he did not so much as shake the banderole on his lance in reply. of the count's appearance this morning it is unnecessary to say more than that he was in the suit of light armor habitual to him, and as an indication of serious intent, bore, besides the lance, a hammer or battle-axe fixed to his saddle-bow, a curved sword considerably longer, though not so broad as a cimeter, a bow and quiver of arrows at his back, and a small shield or buckler over the quiver. the favorite chestnut arab served him for mount, its head and neck clothed in flexible mail. the nine men following were equipped like himself in every particular, except that their heads were protected by close-fitting conical caps, and instead of armor on their legs, they wore flowing red trousers. of them it may be further remarked, their mode of riding, due to their short stirrups, was indicative of folk akin to the bedouin of the desert. upon returning from the last interview with mahommed in the white castle, the count had subjected the crew of his galley to rigorous trial of fitness for land service. nine of them he found excellent riders after their fashion, and selecting them as the most promising, he proceeded to instruct them in the use of the arms they were now bearing. his object in this small organization was a support to rush in after him rather than a battle front. that is, in a charge he was to be the lance's point, and they the broadening of the lance's blade; while he was engaged, intent on the foe before him, eight of them were to guard him right and left, and, as the exigencies of combat might demand, open and close in fan-like movement. the ninth man was a fighter in their rear. in the simple manoeuvring of this order of battle he had practised them diligently through the months. the skill attained was remarkable; and the drilling having been in the hippodrome, open to the public, the concourse to see it had been encouraging. in truth, the wager with mahommed had supplied the count with energy of body and mind. he studied the chances of the contest, knowing how swiftly it was coming, and believed it possible to defend the city successfully. at all events, he would do his best, and if the judgment were adverse, it should not be through default on his part. the danger--and he discerned it with painful clearness--was in the religious dissensions of the greeks; still he fancied the first serious blow struck by the turks, the first bloodshed, would bring the factions together, if only for the common safety. it is well worth while here to ascertain the views and feelings of the people whom count corti was thus making ready to defend. this may be said of them generally: it seemed impossible to bring them to believe the sultan really intended war against the city. "what if he does?" they argued. "who but a young fool would think of such a thing? if he comes, we will show him the banner of the blessed lady from the walls." if in the argument there was allusion to the tower on the asometon heights, so tall one could stand on its lead-covered roof, and looking over the intermediate hills, almost see into constantinople, the careless populace hooted at the exaggeration: "there be royal idiots as well as every-day idiots. staring at us is one thing, shooting at us is another. towers with walls thirty feet thick are not movable." one day a report was wafted through the gates that a gun in the water battery of the new turkish fort had sunk a passing ship. "what flag was the ship flying?" "the venetian." "ah, that settles it," the public cried. "the sultan wants to keep the venetians out of the black sea. the turks and the venetians have always been at war." a trifle later intelligence came that the sultan, lingering at basch-kegan, supposably because the air along the bosphorus was better than the air at adrianople, had effected a treaty by which the podesta of galata bound his city to neutrality; still the complacency of the byzantines was in no wise disturbed. "score one for the genoese. it is good to hear of their beating the venetians." occasionally a wanderer--possibly a merchant, more likely a spy--passing the bazaars of byzantium, entertained the booth-keepers with stories of cannon being cast for the sultan so big that six men tied together might be fired from them at once. the greeks only jeered. some said: "oh, the mahound must be intending a salute for the man in the moon of ramazan!" others decided: "well, he is crazier than we thought him. there are many hills on the road to adrianople, and at the foot of every hill there is a bridge. to get here he must invent wings for his guns, and even then it will be long before they can be taught to fly." at times, too, the old city was set agog with rumors from the asiatic provinces opposite that the sultan was levying unheard-of armies; he had half a million recruits already, but wanted a million. "oh, he means to put a lasting quietus on huniades and his hungarians. he is sensible in taking so many men." in compliment to the intelligence of the public, this obliviousness to danger had one fostering circumstance--the gates of the city on land and water stood open day and night. "see," it was everywhere said, "the emperor is not alarmed. who has more at stake than he? he is a soldier, if he is an _azymite_. he keeps ambassadors with the sultan--what for, if not to be advised?" and there was a great deal in the argument. at length the greek ambassadors were expelled by mahommed. it was while he lay at basch-kegan. they themselves brought the news. this was ominous, yet the public kept its spirits. the churches, notably sancta sophia, were more than usually crowded with women; that was all, for the gates not only remained open, but traffic went in and out of them unhindered--out even to the turkish camp, the byzantines actually competing with their neighbors of galata in the furnishment of supplies. nay, at this very period every morning a troop of the imperial guard convoyed a wagon from blacherne out to basch-kegan laden with the choicest food and wines; and to the officer receiving them the captain of the convoy invariably delivered himself: "from his majesty, the emperor of the romans and greeks, to the lord mahommed, sultan of the turks. prosperity and long life to the sultan." if these were empty compliments, if the relations between the potentates were slippery, if war were hatching, what was the emperor about? six months before the fort opposite the white castle was begun, constantine had been warned of mahommed's projected movement against his capital. the warning was from kalil pacha; and whether kalil was moved by pity, friendship, or avarice is of no moment; certain it is the emperor acted upon the advice. he summoned a council, and proposed war; but was advised to send a protesting embassy to the enemy. a scornful answer was returned. seeing the timidity of his cabinet, cast upon himself, he resolved to effect a policy, and accordingly expostulated, prayed, sent presents, offered tribute, and by such means managed to satisfy his advisers; yet all the time he was straining his resources in preparation. in the outset, he forced himself to face two facts of the gravest import: first, of his people, those of age and thews for fighting were in frocks, burrowing in monasteries; next, the clergy and their affiliates were his enemies, many openly preferring a turk to an _azymite_. a more discouraging prospect it is difficult to imagine. there was but one hope left him. europe was full of professional soldiers. perhaps the pope had influence to send him a sufficient contingent. would his holiness interest himself so far? the brave emperor despatched an embassy to rome, promising submission to the papacy, and praying help in christ's name. meantime his agents dispersed themselves through the aegean, buying provisions and arms, enginery, and war material of all kinds. this business kept his remnant of a navy occupied. every few days a vessel would arrive with stores for the magazine under the hippodrome. by the time the fort at roumeli hissar was finished, one of his anxieties was in a measure relieved. the other was more serious. then the frequency with which he climbed the tower of isaac, the hours he passed there gazing wistfully southward down the mirror of the marmora, became observable. the valorous, knightly heart, groaning under the humiliations of the haughty turk, weary not less of the incapacity of his own people to perceive their peril, and arise heroically to meet it, found opportunity to meditate while he was pacing the lofty lookout, and struggling to descry the advance of the expected succor. in this apology the reader who has wondered at the inaction of the emperor what time the sultan was perfecting his asiatic communications is answered. there was nothing for him but a siege. to that alternative the last of the romans was reduced. he could not promise himself enough of his own subjects to keep the gates, much less take the field. the country around constantinople was given to agriculture. during the planting season, and the growing, the greek husbandmen received neither offence nor alarm from the turks. but in june, when the emerald of the cornfields was turning to gold, herds of mules and cavalry horses began to ravage the fields, and the watchmen, hastening from their little huts on the hills to drive them out, were set upon by the soldiers and beaten. they complained to the emperor, and he sent an embassy to the sultan praying him to save the crops from ruin. in reply, mahommed ordered the son of isfendiar, a relative, to destroy the harvest. the peasants resisted, and not unsuccessfully. in the south, and in the fields near hissar on the north, there were deaths on both sides. intelligence of the affair coming to constantine, he summoned count corti. "the long expected has arrived," he said. "blood has been shed. my people have been attacked and slain in their fields; their bodies lie out unburied. the war cannot be longer deferred. it is true the succors from the holy father have not arrived; but they are on the way, and until they come we must defend ourselves. cold and indifferent my people have certainly been. now i will make a last effort to arouse them. go out toward hissar, and recover the dead. have the bodies brought in just as they are. i will expose them in the hippodrome. perhaps their bruises and blood may have an effect; if not, god help this christian city. i will give you a force." "your majesty," the count replied, "such an expedition might provoke an advance upon the city before you are entirely prepared. permit me to select a party from my own men." "as you choose. a guide will accompany you." to get to the uplands, so to speak, over which, north of galata, the road to hissar stretched, corti was conducted past the cynegion and through the districts of eyoub to the sweet waters of europe, which he crossed by a bridge below the site of the present neglected country palace of the sultan. up on the heights he turned left of pera, and after half an hour's rapid movement was trending northward parallel with the bosphorus, reaches of which were occasionally visible through cleftings of the mountainous shore. straw-thatched farmhouses dotted the hills and slopes, and the harvest spread right and left in cheerful prospect. the adventurer had ample time to think; but did little of it, being too full of self-gratulation at having before him an opportunity to recommend himself to the emperor, with a possibility of earning distinction creditable in the opinion of the princess irene. at length an exclamation of his guide aroused him to action. "the turks, the turks!" "where?" "see that smoke." over a hilltop in his front, the count beheld the sign of alarm crawling slowly into the sky. "here is a village--to our left, but"-- "have done," said corti, "and get me to the fire. is there a nearer way than this?" "yes, under the hill yonder." "is it broken?" "it narrows to a path, but is clear." the count spoke in arabic to his followers, and taking the gallop, pushed the guide forward. shortly a party of terror-stricken peasants ran down toward him. "why do you run? what is the matter?" he asked. "oh, the turks, the turks!" "what of them? stand, and tell me." "we went to work this morning cutting corn, for it is now ripe enough. the mahounds broke in on us. we were a dozen to their fifty or more. we only escaped, and they set fire to the field. o christ, and the most holy mother! let us pass, or we too will be slain!" "are they mounted?" "some have horses, some are afoot." "where are they now?" "in the field on the hill." "well, go to the village fast as you can, and tell the men there to come and pick up their dead. tell them not to fear, for the emperor has sent me to take care of them." with that the count rode on. this was the sight presented him when he made the ascent: a wheat field sloping gradually to the northeast; fire creeping across it crackling, smoking, momentarily widening; through the cloud a company of turkish soldiers halted, mostly horsemen, their arms glinting brightly in the noon sun; blackened objects, unmistakably dead men, lying here and there. thus the tale of the survivors of the massacre was confirmed. corti gave his lance with the banderole on it to the guide. by direction his berbers drove their lances into the earth that they might leave them standing, drew their swords, and brought their bucklers forward. then he led them into the field. a few words more, directions probably, and he started toward the enemy, his followers close behind two and two, with a rear-guardsman. he allowed no outcry, but gradually increased the pace. there were two hundred and more yards to be crossed, level, except the slope, and with only the moving line of fire as an impediment. the crop, short and thin, was no obstacle under the hoofs. the turks watched the movement herded, like astonished sheep. they may not have comprehended that they were being charged, or they may have despised the assailants on account of their inferiority in numbers, or they may have relied on the fire as a defensive wall; whatever the reason, they stood passively waiting. when the count came to the fire, he gave his horse the spur, and plunging into the smoke and through the flame full speed, appeared on the other side, shouting: "christ and our lady of blacherne!" his long sword flashed seemingly brighter of the passage just made. fleckings of flame clung to the horses. what the battle-cry of the berbers we may not tell. they screamed something un-christian, echoes of the desert. then the enemy stirred; some drew their blades, some strung their bows; the footmen amongst them caught their javelins or half-spears in the middle, and facing to the rear, fled, and kept flying, without once looking over their shoulders. one man mounted, and in brighter armor than the others, his steel cap surmounted with an immense white turban, a sparkling aigrette pinned to the turban, cimeter in hand, strove to form his companions--but it was too late. "christ and our lady of blacherne!"--and with that corti was in their midst; and after him, into the lane he opened, his berbers drove pell-mell, knocking turks from their saddles, and overthrowing horses--and there was cutting and thrusting, and wounds given, and souls rendered up through darkened eyes. the killing was all on one side; then as a bowl splinters under a stroke, the turkish mass flew apart, and went helter-skelter off, each man striving to take care of himself. the berbers spared none of the overtaken. spying the man with the showy armor, the count made a dash to get to him, and succeeded, for to say truth, he was not an unwilling foeman. a brief combat took place, scarcely more than a blow, and the turk was disarmed and at mercy. "son of isfendiar," said corti, "the slaying these poor people with only their harvest knives for weapons was murder. why should i spare your life?" "i was ordered to punish them." "by whom?" "my lord the sultan." "do your master no shame. i know and honor him." "yesterday they slew our moslems." "they but defended their own.... you deserve death, but i have a message for the lord mahommed. swear by the bones of the prophet to deliver it, and i will spare you." "if you know my master, as you say, he is quick and fierce of temper, and if i must die, the stroke may be preferable at your hand. give me the message first." "well, come with me." the two remained together until the flight and pursuit were ended; then, the fire reduced to patches for want of stalks to feed it, the count led the way back to the point at which he entered the field. taking his lance from the guide, he passed it to the prisoner. "this is what i would have you do," he said. "the lance is mine. carry it to your master, the lord mahommed, and say to him, ugo, count corti, salute him, and prays him to look at the banderole, and fix it in his memory. he will understand the message, and be grateful for it. now will you swear?" the banderole was a small flag of yellow silk, with a red moon in the centre, and on the face of the moon a white cross. glancing at it, the son of isfendiar replied: "take off the cross, and you show me a miniature standard of the _silihdars_, my lord's guard of the palace." then looking the count full in the face, he added: "under other conditions i should salute you mirza, emir of the hajj." "i have given you my name and title. answer." "i will deliver the lance and message to my lord--i swear it by the bones of the prophet." scarcely had the turk disappeared in the direction of hissar, when a crowd of peasants, men and women, were seen coming timorously from the direction of the village. the count rode to meet them, and as they were provided with all manner of litters, by his direction the dead greeks were collected, and soon, with piteous lamentations, a funeral cortege was on the road moving slowly to constantinople. anticipating a speedy reappearance of the turks, hostilities being now unavoidable, count corti despatched messengers everywhere along the bosphorus, warning the farmers and villagers to let their fields go, and seek refuge in the city. so it came about that the escort of the murdered peasants momentarily increased until at the bridge over the sweet waters of europe it became a column composed for the most part of women, children, and old men. many of the women carried babies. the old men staggered under such goods as they could lay their hands on in haste. the able-bodied straggled far in the rear with herds of goats, sheep, and cattle; the air above the road rang with cries and prayers, and the road itself was sprinkled with tears. in a word, the movement was a flight. corti, with his berbers, lingered in the vicinity of the field of fight watchful of the enemy. in the evening, having forwarded a messenger to the emperor, he took stand at the bridge; and well enough, for about dusk a horde of turkish militia swept down from the heights in search of plunder and belated victims. at the first bite of his sword, they took to their heels, and were not again seen. by midnight the settlements and farmhouses of the up-country were abandoned; almost the entire district from galata to fanar on the black sea was reduced to ashes. the greek emperor had no longer a frontier or a province--all that remained to him was his capital. many of the fugitives, under quickening of the demonstration at the bridge, threw their burdens away; so the greater part of them at an early hour after nightfall appeared at the adrianople gate objects of harrowing appeal, empty-handed, broken down, miserable. constantine had the funeral escort met at the gate by torch-bearers, and the sextons of the blacherne chapel. intelligence of the massacre, and that the corpses of the harvesters would be conveyed to the hippodrome for public exposure, having been proclaimed generally through the city, a vast multitude was also assembled at the gate. the sensation was prodigious. there were twenty litters, each with a body upon it unwashed and in bloody garments, exactly as brought in. on the right and left of the litters the torchmen took their places. the sextons lit their long candles, and formed in front. behind trudged the worn, dust-covered, wretched fugitives; and as they failed to realize their rescue, and that they were at last in safety, they did not abate their lamentations. when the innumerable procession passed the gate, and commenced its laborious progress along the narrow streets, seldom, if ever, has anything of the kind more pathetic and funereally impressive been witnessed. let be said what may, after all nothing shall stir the human heart like the faces of fellowmen done to death by a common enemy. there was no misjudgment of the power of the appeal in this instance. it is no exaggeration to say byzantium was out assisting--so did the people throng the thoroughfares, block the street intersections, and look down from the windows and balconies. afar they heard the chanting of the sextons, monotonous, yet solemnly effective; afar they saw the swaying candles and torches; and an awful silence signalized the approach of the pageant; but when it was up, and the bodies were borne past, especially when the ghastly countenances of the sufferers were under eye plainly visible in the red torchlight, the outburst of grief and rage in every form, groans, curses, prayers, was terrible, and the amazing voice, such by unity of utterance, went with the dead, and followed after them until at last the hippodrome was reached. there the emperor, on horseback, and with his court and guards, was waiting, and his presence lent nationality to the mournful spectacle. conducting the bearers of the litters to the middle of the oblong area, he bade them lay their burdens down, and summoned the city to the view. "let there be no haste," he said, "for, in want of their souls, the bruised bodies of our poor countrymen shall lie here all tomorrow, every gaping wound crying for vengeance. then on the next day it will be for us to say what we will do--fight, fly, or surrender." through the remainder of the night the work of closing the gates and making them secure continued without cessation. the guards were strengthened at each of them, and no one permitted to pass out. singular to say, a number of eunuchs belonging to the sultan were caught and held. some of the enraged greeks insisted on their death; but the good heart of the emperor prevailed, and the prisoners were escorted to their master. the embassy which went with them announced the closing of the gates. "since neither oaths, nor treaty, nor submission can secure peace, pursue your impious warfare"--thus constantine despatched to mahommed. "my trust is in god; if it shall please him to mollify your heart, i shall rejoice in the change; if he delivers the city in your hands, i submit without a murmur to his holy will. but until he shall pronounce between us, it is my duty to live and die in defence of my people." [footnote: gibbon] mahommed answered with a formal declaration of war. it remains to say that the bodies of the harvesters were viewed as promised. they lay in a row near the twisted serpent, and the people passed them tearfully; in the night they were taken away and buried. sadder still, the result did not answer the emperor's hope. the feeling, mixed of sorrow and rage, was loudly manifested; but it was succeeded by fear, and when the organization of companies was attempted, the exodus was shameful. thousands fled, leaving about one hundred thousand behind, not to fight, but firm in the faith that heaven would take care of the city. after weeks of effort, five thousand greeks took the arms offered them, and were enrolled. chapter iv europe answers the cry for help a man in love, though the hero of many battles, shall be afraid in the presence of his beloved, and it shall be easier for him to challenge an enemy than to ask her love in return. count corti's eagerness to face the lion in the gallery of the cynegion had established his reputation in constantinople for courage; his recent defence of the harvesters raised it yet higher; now his name was on every tongue. his habit of going about in armor had in the first days of his coming subjected him to criticism; for the eyes before which he passed belonged for the most part to a generation more given to prospecting for bezants in fields of peace than the pursuit of glory in the ruggeder fields of war. but the custom was now accepted, and at sight of him, mounted and in glistening armor, even the critics smiled, and showered his head with silent good wishes, or if they spoke it was to say to each other: "oh, that the blessed mother would send us more like him!" and the count knew he had the general favor. we somehow learn such things without their being told us. up in the empyrean courtly circles his relations were quite as gratifying. the emperor made no concealment of his partiality, and again insisted on bringing him to blacherne. "your majesty," the count said one day, "i have no further need of my galley and its crew. i beg you to do with them as you think best." constantine received the offer gratefully. "the galley is a godsend. i will order payment for it. duke notaras, the grand admiral, will agree with you about the price." "if your majesty will permit me to have my way," the count rejoined, "you will order the vessel into the harbor with the fleet, and if the result of the war is with your majesty, the grand admiral can arrange for the payment; if otherwise"--he smiled at the alternative--"i think neither your majesty nor myself will have occasion for a ship." the galley was transferred from the bay of julian to anchorage in the golden horn. that night, speaking of the tender, the emperor said to phranza: "count corti has cast his lot with us. as i interpret him, he does not mean to survive our defeat. see that he be charged to select a bodyguard to accompany me in action." "is he to be captain of the guard?" "yes." the duty brought the count to blacherne. in a few days he had fifty men, including his nine berbers. these circumstances made him happy. he found peace of mind also in his release from mahommed. not an hour of the day passed without his silently thanking the sultan for his magnanimity. but no matter for rejoicing came to him like the privilege of freely attending the princess irene. not only was her reception-room open to him; whether she went to blacherne or sancta sophia, he appeared in her train. often when the hour of prayer arrived, she invited him as one of her household to accompany her to the apartment she had set apart for chapel exercises; and at such times he strove to be devout, but in taking her for his pattern of conduct--as yet he hardly knew when to arise or kneel, or cross himself--if his thoughts wandered from the madonna and child to her, if sometimes he fell to making comparisons in which the madonna suffered as lacking beauty--nay, if not infrequently he caught himself worshipping the living woman at the foot of the altar rather than the divinity above it, few there were who would have been in haste to condemn him even in that day. there is nothing modern in the world's love of a lover. by the treaty with mahommed he was free to tell the princess of his passion; and there were moments in which it seemed he must cast himself at her feet and speak; but then he would be seized with a trembling, his tongue would unaccountably refuse its office, and he would quiet himself with the weakling's plea--another time--to-morrow, to-morrow. and always upon the passing of the opportunity, the impulse being laid with so many of its predecessors in the graveyard of broken resolutions--every swain afraid keeps such a graveyard--always he sallied from her door eager for an enemy on whom to vent his vexation. "ah," he would say, with prolonged emphasis upon the exclamation--"if mahommed were only at the gate! is he never coming?" one day he dismounted at the princess' door, and was ushered into the reception-room by lysander. "i bring you good news," he said, in course of the conversation. "what now?" she asked. "every sword counts. i am just from the port of blacherne, whither i accompanied the grand equerry to assist in receiving one john grant, who has arrived with a following of free lances, mostly my own countrymen." "who is john grant?" "a german old in eastern service; more particularly an expert in making and throwing hollow iron balls filled with inflammable liquid. on striking, the balls burst, after which the fire is unquenchable with water." "oh! our greek fire rediscovered!" "so he declares. his majesty has ordered him the materials he asks, and that he go to work to-morrow getting a store of his missiles ready. the man declares also, if his holiness would only proclaim a crusade against the turks. constantinople has not space on her walls to hold the volunteers who would hasten to her defence. he says genoa, venice, all italy, is aroused and waiting." "john grant is welcome," the princess returned; "the more so that his holiness is slow." afterward, about the first of december, the count again dismounted at her door with news. "what is it now?" she inquired. "noble princess, his holiness has been heard from." "at last?" "a legate will arrive to-morrow." "only a legate! what is his name?" "isidore, grand metropolitan of russia." "brings he a following?" "no soldiers; only a suite of priests high and low." "i see. he comes to negotiate. alas!" "why alas?" "oh, the factions, the factions!" she exclaimed, disconsolately; then, seeing the count still in wonder, she added: "know you not that isidore, familiarly called the cardinal, was appointed metropolitan of the russian greek church by the pope, and, rejected by it, was driven to refuge in poland? what welcome can we suppose he will receive here?" "is he not a greek?" "yes, truly; but being a latin churchman, the brotherhoods hold him an apostate. his first demand will be to celebrate mass in sancta sophia. if the world were about shaking itself to pieces, the commotion would be but little greater than the breaking of things we will then hear. oh, it is an ill wind which blows him to our gates!" meantime the hippodrome had been converted into a campus martius, where at all hours of the day the newly enlisted men were being drilled in the arms to which they were assigned; now as archers, now as slingers; now with balistas and catapults and arquebuses; now to the small artillery especially constructed for service on the walls. and as trade was at an end in the city, as in fact martial preparation occupied attention to the exclusion of business in the commercial sense, the ancient site was a centre of resort. thither the count hastened to work off the disheartenment into which the comments of the princess had thrown him. that same week, however, he and the loyal population of constantinople in general, were cheered by a coming of real importance. early one morning some vessels of war hove in sight down the marmora. their flags proclaimed them christian. simultaneously the lookouts at point demetrius reported a number of turkish galleys plying to and fro up the bosphorus. it was concluded that a naval battle was imminent. the walls in the vicinity of the point were speedily crowded with spectators. in fact, the anxiety was great enough to draw the emperor from his high residence. not doubting the galleys were bringing him stores, possibly reinforcements, he directed his small fleet in the golden horn to be ready to go to their assistance. his conjecture was right; yet more happily the turks made no attempt upon them. turning into the harbor, the strangers ran up the flags of venice and genoa, and never did they appear so beautiful, seen by byzantines--never were they more welcome. the decks were crowded with helmed men who responded vigorously to the cheering with which they were saluted. constantine in person received the newcomers at the port of blacherne. from the wall over the gate the princess irene, with an escort of noble ladies, witnessed the landing. a knight of excellent presence stepped from a boat, and announced himself. "i am john justiniani of genoa," he said, "come with two thousand companions in arms to the succor of the most christian emperor constantine. guide me to him, i pray." "the emperor is here--i am he." justiniani kissed the hand extended to him, and returned with fervor: "christ and the mother be praised! much have i been disquieted lest we should be too late. your majesty, command me." "duke notaras," said the emperor, "assist this noble gentleman and his companions. when they are disembarked, conduct them to me. for the present i will lodge them in my residence." then he addressed the genoese: "duke notaras, high admiral of the empire, will answer your every demand. in god's name, and for the imperilled religion of our redeeming lord, i bid you welcome." it seemed the waving of scarfs and white hands on the wall, and the noisy salutations of the people present, were not agreeable to the duke; although coldly polite, he impressed justiniani as an ill second to the stately but courteous emperor. at night there was an audience in the very high residence, and justiniani assisted phranza in the presentation of his companions; and though the banquet which shortly succeeded the audience may not, in the courses served or in its table splendors, have vied with those alexis resorted to for the dazzlement of the chiefs of the first crusade, it was not entirely wanting in such particulars; for it has often happened, if the chronicles may be trusted, that the expiring light of great countries has lingered longest in their festive halls, just as old families have been known to nurture their pride in sparkling heirlooms, all else having been swept away. the failings on this occasion, if any there were, constantine more than amended by his engaging demeanor. soldier not less than emperor, he knew to win the sympathy and devotion of soldiers. of his foreign guests that evening many afterwards died hardly distinguishing between him and the holy cause which led them to their fate. the table was long, and without head or foot. on one side, in the middle, the emperor presided; opposite him sat the princess irene; and on their right and left, in gallant interspersion, other ladies, the wives and daughters of senators, nobles, and officials of the court, helped charm the western chivalry. and of the guests, the names of a few have been preserved by history, together with the commands to which they were assigned in the siege. there was andrew dinia, under duke notaras, a captain of galleys. there was the venetian contarino, intrusted with the defence of the golden grate. there was maurice cataneo, a soldier of genoa, commandant of the walls on the landward side between the golden gate and the gate selimbria. there were two brothers, gentlemen of genoa, paul bochiardi and antonin troilus bochiardi, defendants of the adrianople gate. there was jerome minotte, bayle of venice, charged with safe keeping the walls between the adrianople gate and the cerco portas. there was the artillerist, german john grant, who, with theodore carystos, made sure of the gate charsias. there was leonardo de langasco, another genoese, keeper of the wood gate. there was gabriel travisan; with four hundred other venetians, he maintained the stretch of wall on the harbor front between point demetrius and the port st. peter. there was pedro guiliani, the spanish consul, assigned to the guardianship of the wall on the sea side from point demetrius to the port of julian. there also was stout nicholas gudelli; with the emperor's brother, he commanded the force in reserve. now these, or the major part of them, may have been free lances; yet they did not await the motion of nicholas, the dilatory pope, and were faithful, and to-day exemplify the saying: "that men may rise on stepping-stones of their dead selves to higher things." chapter v count corti receives a favor "gracious princess, the italian, count corti, is at the door. he prays you to hear a request from him." "return, lysander, and bring the count." it was early morning, with february in its last days. the visitor's iron shoes clanked sharply on the marble floor of the reception room, and the absence of everything like ornament in his equipment bespoke preparation for immediate hard service. "i hope the mother is keeping you well," she said, presenting her hand to him. with a fervor somewhat more marked than common, he kissed the white offering, and awaited her bidding. "my attendants are gone to the chapel, but i will hear you--or will you lend us your presence at the service, and have the audience afterwards?" "i am in armor, and my steed is at the door, and my men biding at the adrianople gate; wherefore, fair princess, if it be your pleasure, i will present my petition now." in grave mistrust, she returned: "god help us, count! i doubt you have something ill to relate. since the good gregory fled into exile to escape his persecutors, but more especially since cardinal isidore attempted latin mass in sancta sophia, and the madman gennadius so frightened the people with his senseless anathemas, [footnote: the scene here alluded to by the princess irene is doubtless the one so vividly described by gibbon as having taken place in sancta sophia, the th of december, , being the mass celebrated by cardinal isidore in an attempt to reconcile the latin and greek factions. enumerating the consequences of the same futile effort at compromise, von hammer says: "instead of uniting for the common defence, the greeks and latins fled, leaving the churches empty; the priests refused the sacrament to the dying who were not of their faith; the monks and nuns repudiated confessors who acknowledged the _henoticon_ (decree ordaining the reunion of the two churches); a spirit of frenzy took possession of the convents; one _religieuse_, to the great scandal of all the faithful, adopted the faith and costume of the mussulmans, eating meat and adoring the prophet. thus lent passed." (vol. ii., p. .) to the same effect we read in the universal history of the catholic church (vol. xxii., p. ): "the religious who affected to surpass others in sanctity of life and purity of faith, following the advice of gennadius and their spiritual advisers, as well as that of the preachers and laity of their party, condemned the decree of union, and anathematized those who approved or might approve it. the common people, sallying from the monasteries, betook themselves to the taverns; there flourishing glasses of wine, they reviled all who had consented to the union, and drinking in honor of an image of the mother of god, prayed her to protect and defend the city against mahomet, as she had formerly defended it against chosroes and the kagan. we will have nothing to do with assistance from the latins or a union with them. far from us be the worship of the _azymites_."] i have been beset with forebodings until i startle at my own thoughts. it were gentle, did you go to your request at once." she permitted him to lead her to an armless chair, and, standing before her, he spoke with decision: "princess irene, now that you have resolved finally to remain in the city, and abide the issue of the siege, rightly judging it an affair determinable by god, it is but saying the truth as i see it, that no one is more interested in what betides us from day to day than you; for if heaven frowns upon our efforts at defence, and there comes an assault, and we are taken, the conqueror, by a cruel law of war, has at disposal the property both public and private he gains, and every living thing as well. we who fight may die the death he pleases; you--alas, most noble and virtuous lady, my tongue refuses the words that rise to it for utterance!" the rose tints in her cheeks faded, yet she answered: "i know what you would say, and confess it has appalled me. sometimes it tempts me to fly while yet i can; then i remember i am a palaeologus. i remember also my kinsman the emperor is to be sustained in the trial confronting him. i remember too the other women, high and low, who will stay and share the fortunes of their fighting husbands and brothers. if i have less at stake than they, count corti, the demands of honor are more rigorous upon me." the count's eyes glowed with admiration, but next moment the light in them went out. "noble lady," he began, "i hope it will not be judged too great a familiarity to say i have some days been troubled on your account. i have feared you might be too confident of our ability to beat the enemy. it seems my duty to warn you of the real outlook that you may permit us to provide for your safety while opportunities favor." "for my flight, count corti?" "nay, princess irene, your retirement from the city." she smiled at the distinction he made, but replied: "i will hear you, count." "it is for you to consider, o princess--if reports of the sultan's preparation are true--this assault in one feature at least will be unparalleled. the great guns for which he has been delaying are said to be larger than ever before used against walls. they may destroy our defences at once; they may command all the space within those defences; they may search every hiding-place; the uncertainties they bring with them are not to be disregarded by the bravest soldier, much less the unresisting classes.... in the next place, i think it warrantable from the mass of rumors which has filled the month to believe the city will be assailed by a force much greater than was ever drawn together under her walls. suffer me to refer to them, o princess... the sultan is yet at adrianople assembling his army. large bodies of footmen are crossing the hellespont at gallipolis and the bosphorus at hissar; in the region of adrianople the country is covered with hordes of horsemen speaking all known tongues and armed with every known weapon--cossacks from the north, arabs from the south, koords and tartars from the east, roumanians and slavs from beyond the balkans. the roads from the northwest are lined with trains bringing supplies and siege-machinery. the cities along the shores of the black sea have yielded to mahommed; those which defied him are in ruins. an army is devastating morea. the brother whom his majesty the emperor installed ruler there is dead or a wanderer, no man can say in what parts. assistance cannot be expected from him. above us, far as the sea, the bays are crowded with ships of all classes; four hundred hostile sail have been counted from the hill-tops. and now that there is no longer a hope of further aid from the christians of europe, the effect of the news upon our garrison is dispiriting. our garrison! alas, princess, with the foreigners come to our aid, it is not sufficient to man the walls on the landward side alone." "the picture is gloomy, count, but if you have drawn it to shake my purpose, it is not enough. i have put myself in the hands of the blessed mother. i shall stay, and be done with as god orders." again the count's face glowed with admiration. "i thought as much, o princess," he said warmly; "yet it seemed to me a duty to advise you of the odds against us; and now, the duty done, i pray you hear me as graciously upon another matter.... last night, seeing the need of information of the enemy, i besought his majesty to allow me to ride toward adrianople. he consented, and i set out immediately; but before going, before bidding you adieu, noble princess and dear lady, i have a prayer to offer you." he hesitated; then plucking courage from the embarrassment of silence, went on: "dear lady, your resolution to stay and face the dangers of the siege and assault fills me with alarm for your safety." he cast himself upon his knees, and stretched his hands to her. "give me permission to protect you. i devote my sword to you, and the skill of my hands--my life, my soul. let me be your knight." she arose, but he continued: "some day, deeds done for your country and religion may give me courage to speak more boldly of what i feel and hope; but now i dare go no further than ask what you have just heard. let me be your protector and knight through the perils of the siege at least." the princess was pleased with the turn his speech had taken. she thought rapidly. a knight in battle, foremost in the press, her name a conquering cry on his lips were but the constituents of a right womanly ambition. she answered: "count corti, i accept thy offer." taking the hand she extended, he kissed it reverently, and said: "i am happy above other men. now, o princess, give me a favor--a glove, a scarf--something i may wear, to prove me thy knight." she took from her neck a net of knitted silk, pinkish in hue, and large enough for a kerchief or waist sash. "if i go about this gift," she said, her face deeply suffused, "in a way to provoke a smile hereafter; if in placing it around thy neck with my own hands"--with the words, she bent over him, and dropped the net outside the hood so the ends hung loosely down his breast--"i overstep any rule of modesty, i pray you will not misunderstand me. i am thinking of my country, my kinsman, of religion and god, and the service even unto noble deeds thou mayst do them. rise, count corti. in the ride before thee now, in the perils to come, thou shalt have my prayers." the count arose, but afraid to trust himself in further speech, he carried her hand to his lips again, and with a simple farewell, hurried out, and mounting his horse rode at speed for the adrianople gate. four days after, he reentered the gate, bringing a prisoner, and passing straight to the very high residence, made report to the emperor, justiniani and duke notaras in council. "i have been greatly concerned for you, count," said constantine; "and not merely because a good sword can be poorly spared just now." the imperial pleasure was unfeigned. "your majesty's grace is full reward for my performance," the count replied, and rising from the salutation, he began his recital. "stay," said the emperor, "i will have a seat brought that you may be at ease." corti declined: "the arabs have a saying, your majesty--'a nest for a setting bird, a saddle for a warrior.' the jaunt has but rested me, and there was barely enough danger in it.... the turk is an old acquaintance. i have lived with him, and been his guest in house and tent, and as a comrade tempted providence at his side under countless conditions, until i know his speech and usages, himself scarcely better. my african berbers are all mohammedans who have performed the pilgrimage. one of them is a muezzin by profession; and if he can but catch sight of the sun, he will never miss the five hours of prayer. none of them requires telling the direction to mecca.... i issued from your majesty's great gate about the third hour, and taking the road to adrianople, journeyed till near midday before meeting a human being. there were farms and farmhouses on my right and left, and the fields had been planted in good season; but the growing grain was wasted; and when i sought the houses to have speech with their tenants they were forsaken. twice we were driven off by the stench of bodies rotting before the doors." "greeks?" "greeks, your majesty.... there were wild hogs in the thickets which fled at sight of us, and vultures devouring the corpses." "were there no other animals, no horses or oxen?" asked justiniani. "none, noble genoese--none seen by us, and the swine were spared, i apprehend, because their meat is prohibited to the children of islam.... at length hadifah, whom i have raised to be a sheik--your majesty permitting--and whose eyes discover the small things with which space is crowded as he were a falcon making circles up near the sun--hadifah saw a man in the reeds hiding; and we pursued the wretch, and caught him, and he too was a greek; and when his fright allowed him to talk, he told us a band of strange people, the like of whom he had never seen, attacked his hut, burned it, carried off his goats and she buffaloes; and since that hour, five weeks gone, he had been hunting for his wife and three girl-children. god be merciful to them! of the turks he could tell nothing except that now, everything of value gone, they too had disappeared. i gave the poor man a measure of oaten cakes, and left him to his misery. god be merciful to him also!" "did you not advise him to come to me?" "your majesty, he was a husband and father seeking his family; with all humility, what else is there for him to do?" "i give your judgment credit, count. there is nothing else." "i rode on till night, meeting nobody, friend or foe--on through a wide district, lately inhabited, now a wilderness. the creatures of the sultan had passed through it, and there was fire in their breath. we discovered a dried-up stream, and by sinking in its bed obtained water for our horses. there, in a hollow, we spent the night.... next morning, after an hour's ride, we met a train of carts drawn by oxen. the groaning and creaking of the distraught wheels warned me of the encounter before the advance guard of mounted men, quite a thousand strong, were in view. i did not draw rein"-- "what!" cried justiniani, astonished. "with but a company of nine?" the count smiled. "i crave your pardon, gallant captain. in my camp the night before, i prepared my berbers for the meeting." "by the bones of the saints, count corti, thou dost confuse me the more! with such odds against thee, what preparations were at thy command?" "'there was never amulet like a grain of wit in a purse under thy cap.' good captain, the saying is not worse of having proceeded from a persian. i told my followers we were likely at any moment to be overtaken by a force too strong for us to fight; but instead of running away, we must meet them heartily, as friends enlisted in the same cause; and if they asked whence we were, we must be sure of agreement in our reply. i was to be a turk; they, egyptians from west of the nile. we had come in by the new fortress opposite the white castle, and were going to the mighty lord mahommed in adrianople. beyond that, i bade them be silent, leaving the entertainment of words to me." the emperor and justiniani laughed, but notaras asked: "if thy berbers are mohammedans, as thou sayest, count corti, how canst thou rely on them against mohammedans?" "my lord the high admiral may not have heard of the law by which, if one arab kills another, the relatives of the dead man are bound to kill him, unless there be composition. so i had merely to remind hadifah and his companions of the turks we slew in the field near basch-kegan." corti continued: "after parley with the captain of the advance guard, i was allowed to ride on; and coming to the train, i found the carts freighted with military engines and tools for digging trenches and fortifying camps. there were hundreds of them, and the drivers were a multitude. indeed, your majesty, from head to foot the caravan was miles in reach, its flanks well guarded by groups of horsemen at convenient intervals." this statement excited the three counsellors. "after passing the train," the count was at length permitted to resume, "my way was through bodies of troops continuously--all irregulars. it must have been about three o'clock in the afternoon when i came upon the most surprising sight. much i doubt if ever the noble captain justiniani, with all his experience, can recall anything like it. "first there was a great company of pioneers with tools for grading the hills and levelling the road; then on a four-wheeled carriage two men stood beating a drum; their sticks looked like the enlarged end of a galley oar. the drum responded to their blows in rumbles like dull thunder from distant clouds. while i sat wondering why they beat it, there came up next sixty oxen yoked in pairs. your majesty can in fancy measure the space they covered. on the right and left of each yoke strode drivers with sharpened goads, and their yelling harmonized curiously with the thunder of the drum. the straining of the brutes was pitiful to behold. and while i wondered yet more, a log of bronze was drawn toward me big at one end as the trunk of a great plane tree, and so long that thirty carts chained together as one wagon, were required to support it laid lengthwise; and to steady the piece on its rolling bed, two hundred and fifty stout laborers kept pace with it unremittingly watchful. the movement was tedious, but at last i saw"-- "a cannon!" exclaimed the genoese. "yes, noble captain, the gun said to be the largest ever cast." "didst thou see any of the balls?" "other carts followed directly loaded with gray limestones chiselled round; and to my inquiry what the stones were for, i was told they were bullets twelve spans in circumference, and that the charge of powder used would cast them a mile." the inquisitors gazed at each other mutely, and their thoughts may be gathered from the action of the emperor. he touched a bell on a table, and to phranza, who answered the call, he said: "lord chamberlain, have two men well skilled in the construction of walls report to me in the morning. there is work for them which they must set about at once. i will furnish the money." [footnote: before the siege by the turks, two monks, manuel giagari and neophytus of rhodes, were charged with repairing the walls, but they buried the sums intrusted to them for these works; and in the pillage of the city seventy thousand pieces of gold thus advanced by the emperor were unearthed.--von hammer, vol. ii., p. .] "i have but little more of importance to engage your majesty's attention.... behind the monster cannon, two others somewhat smaller were brought up in the same careful manner. i counted seventeen pieces all brass, the least of them exceeding in workmanship and power the best in the hippodrome." "were there more?" justiniani asked. "many more, brave captain, but ancient, and unworthy mention.... the day was done when, by sharp riding, i gained the rear of the train. at sunrise on the third day, i set out in return.... i have a prisoner whom this august council may examine with profit. he will, at least, confirm my report." "who is he?" "the captain of the advance guard." "how came you by him?" "your majesty, i induced him to ride a little way with me, and at a convenient time gave his bridle rein to hadifah. in his boyhood the sheik was trained to leading camels, and he assures me it is much easier to lead a horse." the sally served to lighten the sombre character of the count's report, and in the midst of the merriment, he was dismissed. the prisoner was then brought in, and put to question; next day the final preparation for the reception of mahommed was begun. with a care equal to the importance of the business, constantine divided the walls into sections, beginning on the landward side of the golden gate or seven towers, and ending at the cynegion. of the harbor front he made one division, with the grand gate of blacherne and the acropolis or point serail for termini; from point serail to the seven towers he stationed patrols and lookouts, thinking the sea and rocks sufficient to discourage assault in that quarter. his next care was the designation of commandants of the several divisions. the individuals thus honored have been already mentioned; though it may be well to add how the papal legate, cardinal isidore, doffing his frock and donning armor, voluntarily accepted chief direction along the harbor--an example of martial gallantry which ought to have shamed the lukewarm greeks morosely skulking in their cells. shrewdly anticipating a concentration of effort against the gate st. romain, and its two auxiliary towers, bagdad and st. romain, the former on the right hand and the latter on the left, he assigned justiniani to its defence. upon the walls, and in the towers numerously garnishing them, the gallant emperor next brought up his guns and machines, with profuse supplies of missiles. then, after flooding the immense ditch, he held a review in the hippodrome, whence the several detachments marched to their stations. riding with his captains, and viewing the walls, now gay with banners and warlike tricking, constantine took heart, and told how amurath, the peerless warrior, had dashed his janissaries against them, and rued the day. "is this boy mahommed greater than his father?" he asked. "god knows," isidore responded, crossing himself breast and forehead. and well content, the cavalcade repassed the ponderous gate st. romain. all that could be done had been done. there was nothing more but to wait. chapter vi mahommed at the gate st. romain in the city april seemed to have borrowed from the delays of mahommed; never month so slow in coming. at last, however, its first day, dulled by a sky all clouds, and with winds from the balkans. the inertness of the young sultan was not from want of will or zeal. it took two months to drag his guns from adrianople; but with them the army moved, and as it moved it took possession, or rather covered the land. at length, he too arrived, bringing, as it were, the month with him; and then he lost no more time. about five miles from the walls on the south or landward side, he drew his hordes together in the likeness of a line of battle, and at a trumpet call they advanced in three bodies simultaneously. so a tidal wave, far extending, broken, noisy, terrible, rises out of the deep, and rolls upon a shore of stony cliffs. near ten o'clock in the forenoon of the sixth of april the emperor mounted the roof of the tower of st. romain, mentioned as at the left of the gate bearing the same name. there were with him justiniani, the cardinal isidore, john grant, phranza, theophilus palaeologus, duke notaras, and a number of inferior persons native and foreign. he had come to see all there was to be seen of the turks going into position. the day was spring-like, with just enough breeze to blow the mists away. the reader must think of the roof as an immense platform accessible by means of a wooden stairway in the interior of the tower, and battlemented on the four sides, the merlons of stone in massive blocks, and of a height to protect a tall man, the embrasures requiring banquettes to make them serviceable. in arrangement somewhat like a ship's battery, there are stoutly framed arbalists and mangonels on the platform, and behind them, with convenient spaces between, arquebuses on tripods, cumbrous catapults, and small cannon on high axles ready for wheeling into position between the merlons. near each machine its munitions lie in order. leaning against the walls there are also spears, javelins, and long and cross bows; while over the corner next the gate floats an imperial standard, its white field emblazoned with the immemorial greek cross in gold. the defenders of the tower are present; and as they are mostly byzantines, their attitudes betray much more than cold military respect, for they are receiving the emperor, whom they have been taught to regard worshipfully. they study him, and take not a little pride in observing that, clad in steel cap-a-pie, he in no wise suffers by comparison with the best of his attendants, not excepting justiniani, the renowned genoese captain. not more to see than be seen, the visor of his helmet is raised; and stealing furtive glances at his countenance, noble by nature, but just now more than ordinarily inspiring, they are better and stronger for what they read in it. on the right and left the nearest towers obstruct the view of the walls in prolongation; but southward the country spreads before the party a campania rolling and fertile, dotted with trees scattered and in thin groves, and here and there an abandoned house. the tender green of vegetation upon the slopes reminds those long familiar with them that grass is already invading what were lately gardens and cultivated fields. constantine makes the survey in silence, for he knows how soon even the grass must disappear. just beyond the flooded ditch at the foot of the first or outward wall is a road, and next beyond the road a cemetery crowded with tombs and tombstones, and brown and white mausolean edifices; indeed, the chronicles run not back to a time when that marginal space was unallotted to the dead. from the far skyline the eyes of the fated emperor drop to the cemetery, and linger there. presently one of his suite calls out: "hark! what sound is that?" they all give attention. "it is thunder." "no--thunder rolls. this is a beat." constantine and justiniani remembered count corti's description of the great drum hauled before the artillery train of the turks, and the former said calmly: "they are coming." almost as he spoke the sunlight mildly tinting the land in the farness seemed to be troubled, and on the tops of the remote hillocks there appeared to be giants rolling them up, as children roll snow-balls--and the movement was toward the city. the drum ceased not its beating or coming. justiniani by virtue of his greater experience, was at length able to say: "your majesty, it is here in front of us; and as this gate st. romain marks the centre of your defences, so that drum marks the centre of an advancing line, and regulates the movement from wing to wing." "it must be so, captain; for see--there to the left--those are bodies of men." "and now, your majesty, i hear trumpets." a little later some one cried out: "now i hear shouting." and another: "i see gleams of metal." ere long footmen and horsemen were in view, and the byzantines, brought to the wall by thousands, gazed and listened in nervous wonder; for look where they might over the campania, they saw the enemy closing in upon them, and heard his shouting, and the neighing of horses, the blaring of horns, and the palpitant beating of drums. "by our lady of blacherne," said the emperor, after a long study of the spectacle, "it is a great multitude, reaching to the sea here on our left, and, from the noise, to the golden horn on our right; none the less i am disappointed. i imagined much splendor of harness and shields and banners, but see only blackness and dust. i cannot make out amongst them one sultanic flag. tell me, most worthy john grant--it being reported that thou hast great experience combating with and against these hordes--tell me if this poverty of appearance is usual with them." the sturdy german, in a jargon difficult to follow, answered: "these at our left are the scum of asia. they are here because they have nothing; their hope is to better their condition, to return rich, to exchange ragged turbans for crowns, and goatskin jackets for robes of silk. look, your majesty, the tombs in front of us are well kept; to-morrow if there be one left standing, it will have been rifled. of the lately buried there will not be a ring on a finger or a coin under a tongue. oh, yes, the ghouls will look better next week! only give them time to convert the clothes they will strip from the dead into fresh turbans. but when the janissaries come your majesty will not be disappointed. see--their advance guard now--there on the rising ground in front of the gate." there was a swell of ground to the right of the gate rather than in front of it, and as the party looked thither, a company of horsemen were seen riding slowly but in excellent order, and the sheen of their arms and armor silvered the air about them. immediately other companies deployed on the right and left of the first one; then the thunderous drum ceased; whereat, from the hordes out on the campania, brought to a sudden standstill, detachments dashed forward at full speed, and dismounting, began digging a trench. "be this sultan like or unlike his father, he is a soldier. he means to cover his army, and at the same time enclose us from sea to harbor. to-morrow, my lord, only high-flying hawks can communicate with us from the outside." this, from justiniani to the emperor, was scarcely noticed, for behind the deploying janissaries, there arose an outburst of music in deep volume, the combination of clarions and cymbals so delightful to warriors of the east; at the same instant a yellow flag was displayed. then old john grant exclaimed: "the colors of the _silihdars!_ mahommed is not far away. nay, your majesty, look--the sultan himself!" through an interval of the guard, a man in chain mail shooting golden sparkles, helmed, and with spear in hand and shield at his back, trotted forth, his steed covered with flowing cloths. behind him appeared a suite mixed of soldiers and civilians, the former in warlike panoply, the latter in robes and enormous turbans. down the slope the foremost rider led as if to knock at the gate. on the tower the cannon were loaded, and run into the embrasures. "mahommed, saidst thou, john grant?" "mahommed, your majesty." "then i call him rash; but as we are not ashamed of our gates and walls, let him have his look in peace.... hear you, men, let him look, and go in peace." the repetition was in restraint of the eager gunners. further remark was cut short by a trumpet sounded at the foot of the tower. an officer peered over the wall, and reported: "your majesty, a knight just issued from the gate is riding forth. i take him to be the italian, count corti." constantine became a spectator of what ensued. ordinarily the roadway from the country was carried over the deep moat in front of the gate st. romain by a floor of stout timbers well balustraded at the sides, and resting on brick piers. of the bridge nothing now remained but a few loose planks side by side ready to be hastily snatched from their places. to pass them afoot was a venture; yet count corti, when the emperor looked at him from the height, was making the crossing mounted, and blowing a trumpet as he went. "is the man mad?" asked the emperor, in deep concern. "mad? no, he is challenging the mahounds to single combat; and, my lords and gentlemen, if he be skilful as he is bold, then, by the three kings of cologne, we will see some pretty work in pattern for the rest of us." thus grant replied. corti made the passage safely, and in the road beyond the moat halted, and drove the staff of his banderole firmly in the ground. a broad opening through the cemetery permitted him to see and be seen by the turks, scarcely a hundred yards away. standing in his stirrups, he sounded the trumpet again--a clear call ringing with defiance. mahommed gave over studying the tower and deep-sunken gate, and presently beckoned to his suite. "what is the device on yon pennon?" he asked. "a moon with a cross on its face." "say you so?" twice the defiance was repeated, and so long the young sultan, sat still, his countenance unusually grave. he recognized the count; only he thought of him by the dearer oriental name, mirza. he knew also how much more than common ambition there was in the blatant challenge--that it was a reminder of the treaty between them, and, truly interpreted, said, in effect: "lo, my lord! she is well, and for fear thou judge me unworthy of her, send thy bravest to try me." and he hesitated--an accident might quench the high soul. alas, then, for the princess irene in the day of final assault! who would deliver her to him? the hordes, and the machinery, all the mighty preparation, were, in fact, less for conquest and glory than love. sore the test had there been one in authority to say to him: "she is thine, lord mahommed; thine, so thou take her, and leave the city." a third time the challenge was delivered, and from the walls a taunting cheer descended. then the son of isfendiar, recognizing the banderole, and not yet done with chafing over his former defeat, pushed through the throng about mahommed, and prayed: "o my lord, suffer me to punish yon braggart." mahommed replied: "thou hast felt his hand already, but go--i commend thee to thy houris." he settled in his saddle smiling. the danger was not to the count. the arms, armor, weapons, and horse-furniture of the moslem were identical with the italian's; and it being for the challenged party to determine with what the duel should be fought, whether with axe, sword, lance or bow, the son of isfendiar chose the latter, and made ready while advancing. the count was not slow in imitating him. each held his weapon--short for saddle service--in the left hand, the arrow in place, and the shield on the left forearm. no sooner had they reached the open ground in the cemetery than they commenced moving in circles, careful to keep the enemy on the shield side at a distance of probably twenty paces. the spectators became silent. besides the skill which masters in such affrays should possess, they were looking for portents of the result. three times the foemen encircled each other with shield guard so well kept that neither saw an opening to attack; then the turk discharged his arrow, intending to lodge it in the shoulder of the other's horse, the buckling attachments of the neck mail being always more or less imperfect. the count interposed his shield, and shouted in osmanli: "out on thee, son of isfendiar! i am thy antagonist, not my horse. thou shalt pay for the cowardice." he then narrowed the circle of his movement, and spurring full speed, compelled the turk to turn on a pivot so reduced it was almost a halt. the exposure while taking a second shaft from the quiver behind the right shoulder was dangerously increased. "beware!" the count cried again, launching his arrow through the face opening of the hood. the son of isfendiar might never attain his father's pachalik. there was not voice left him for a groan. he reeled in his saddle, clutching the empty air, then tumbled to the earth. the property of the dead man, his steed, arms, and armor, were lawful spoils; but without heeding them, the count retired to his banderole, and, amidst the shouts of the greeks on the walls and towers, renewed the challenge. a score of chiefs beset the sultan for permission to engage the insolent _gabour_. to an arab sheik, loudest in importunity, he said: "what has happened since yesterday to dissatisfy thee with life?" the sheik raised a lance with a flexible shaft twenty feet in length, made of a cane peculiar to the valley of the jordan, and shaking it stoutly, replied: "allah, and the honor of my tribe!" perceiving the man's reliance in his weapon, mahommed returned: "how many times didst thou pray yesterday?" "five times, my lord." "and to-day?" "twice." "go, then; but as yon champion hath not a lance to put him on equality with thee, he will be justified in taking to the sword." the sheik's steed was of the most precious strain of el-hejaz; and sitting high in the saddle, a turban of many folds on his head, a striped robe drawn close to the waist, his face thin, coffee-colored, hawk-nosed, and lightning-eyed, he looked a king of the desert. galloping down on the christian, he twirled the formidable lance dextrously, until it seemed not more than a stalk of dried papyrus. the count beheld in the performance a trick of the _djerid_ he had often practised with mahommed. uncertain if the man's robe covered armor, he met him with an arrow, and seeing it fall off harmless, tossed the bow on his back, drew sword, and put his horse in forward movement, caracoling right and left to disturb the enemy's aim. nothing could be more graceful than this action. suddenly the sheik stopped playing, and balancing the lance overhead, point to the foe, rushed with a shrill cry upon him. corti's friends on the tower held their breath; even the emperor said: "it is too unequal. god help him!" at the last moment, however--the moment of the thrust--changing his horse to the right, the count laid himself flat upon its side, under cover of his shield. the thrust, only a little less quick, passed him in the air, and before the sheik could recover or shorten his weapon, the trained foeman was within its sweep. in a word, the arab was at mercy. riding with him side by side, hand on his shoulder, the count shouted: "yield thee!" "dog of a christian, never! do thy worst." the sword twirled once--a flash--then it descended, severing the lance in front of the owner's grip. the fragment fell to the earth. "now yield thee!" the sheik drew rein. "why dost thou not kill me?" "i have a message for thy master yonder, the lord mahommed." "speak it then." "tell him he is in range of the cannon on the towers, and only the emperor's presence there restrains the gunners. there is much need for thee to haste." "who art thou?" "i am an italian knight who, though thy lord's enemy, hath reason to love him. wilt thou go?" "i will do as thou sayest." "alight, then. thy horse is mine." "for ransom?" "no." the sheik dismounted grumblingly, and was walking off when the cheering of the greeks stung him to the soul. "a chance--o christian, another chance--to-day--to-morrow!" "deliver the message; it shall be as thy lord may then appoint. bestir thyself." the count led the prize to the banderole, and flinging the reins over it, faced the gleaming line of janissaries once more, trumpet at mouth. he saw the sheik salute mahommed; then the attendants closed around them. "a courteous dog, by the prophet!" said the sultan. "in what tongue did he speak?" "my lord, he might have been bred under my own tent." the sultan's countenance changed. "was there not more of his message?" he was thinking of the princess irene. "yes, my lord." "repeat it." "he will fight me again to-day or to-morrow, as my lord may appoint--and i want my horse. without him, el-hejaz will be a widow." a red spot appeared on mahommed's forehead. "begone!" he cried angrily. "seest thou not, o fool, that when we take the city we will recover thy horse? fight thou shalt not, for in that day i shall have need of thee." thereupon he bade them open for him, and rode slowly back up the eminence, and when he disappeared corti was vainly sounding his trumpet. the two horses were led across the dismantled bridge, and into the gate. "heaven hath sent me a good soldier," said the emperor to the count, upon descending from the tower. then justiniani asked: "why didst thou spare thy last antagonist?" corti answered truthfully. "it was well done," the genoese returned, offering his hand. "ay," said constantine, cordially, "well done. but mount now, and ride with us." "your majesty, a favor first.... a man is in the road dead. let his body be placed on a bier, and carried to his friends." "a most christian request! my lord chamberlain, attend to it." the cavalcade betook itself then to other parts, the better to see the disposition of the turks; and everywhere on the landward side it was the same--troops in masses, and intrenchments in progress. closing the inspection at set of sun, the emperor beheld the sea and the bosphorus in front of the golden horn covered with hundreds of sails. "the leaguer is perfected," said the genoese. "and the issue with god," constantine replied. "let us to hagia st. sophia." chapter vii the great gun speaks the first sufficient gleam of light next morning revealed to the watchmen on the towers an ominous spectacle. through the night they had heard a medley of noises peculiar to a multitude at work with all their might; now, just out of range of their own guns, they beheld a continuous rampart of fresh earth grotesquely spotted with marbles from the cemetery. in no previous siege of the byzantine capital was there reference to such a preliminary step. to the newly enlisted, viewing for the first time an enemy bodily present, it seemed like the world being pared down to the smallest dimensions; while their associate veterans, to whom they naturally turned for comfort, admitted an appreciable respect for the sultan. either he had a wise adviser, they said, or he was himself a genius. noon--and still the workmen seemed inexhaustible--still the rampart grew in height--still the hordes out on the campania multiplied, and the horizon line west of the gate st. romain was lost in the increasing smoke of a vast bivouac. nightfall--and still the labor. about midnight, judging by the sounds, the sentinels fancied the enemy approached nearer the walls; and they were not mistaken. with the advent of the second morning, here and there at intervals, ill-defined mounds of earth were seen so much in advance of the intrenched line that, by a general order, a fire of stones and darts was opened upon them; and straightway bodies of bowmen and slingers rushed forward, and returned the fire, seeking to cover the mound builders. this was battle. noon again--and battle. in the evening--battle. the advantage of course was with the besieged. the work on the mounds meanwhile continued, while the campania behind the intrenchment was alive with a creaking of wheels burdened by machinery, and a shouting of ox-drivers; and the veterans on the walls said the enemy was bringing up his balistas and mangonels. the third morning showed the mounds finished, and crowned with mantelets, behind which, in working order and well manned, every sort of engine known in sieges from alexander to the crusaders was in operation. thenceforward, it is to be observed, the battle was by no means one-sided. in this opening there was no heat or furore of combat; it was rather the action of novices trying their machines, or, in modern artillery parlance, finding the range. many minutes often intervened between shots, and as the preliminary object on the part of the besiegers was to destroy the merlons sheltering the warders, did a stone strike either wall near the top, the crash was saluted by cheers. now the foreigners defending were professionals who had graduated in all the arts of town and castle taking. these met the successes of their antagonists with derision. "apprentices," they would say, "nothing but apprentices."... "see those fellows by the big springal there turning the winch the wrong way!" ... "the turbaned sons of satan! have they no eyes? i'll give them a lesson. look!" and if the bolt fell truly, there was loud laughter on the walls. the captains, moreover, were incessantly encouraging the raw men under them. "two walls, and a hundred feet of flooded ditch! there will be merry christmas in the next century before the mahounds get to us at the rate they are coming. shoot leisurely, men--leisurely. an infidel for every bolt!" now on the outer wall, which was the lower of the two, and naturally first to draw the enemy's ire, and then along the inner, the emperor went, indifferent to danger or fatigue, and always with words of cheer. "the stones under our feet are honest," he would say. "the persian came thinking to batter them down, but after many days he fled; and search as we will, no man can lay a finger on the face of one of them, and say, 'here chosroes left a scar.' so amurath, sometimes called murad, this young man's father, wasted months, and the souls of his subjects without count; but when he fled not a coping block had been disturbed in its bed. what has been will be again. god is with us." when the three days were spent, the greeks under arms began to be accustomed to the usage, and make merry of it, like the veterans. the fourth day about noon the emperor, returning from a round of the walls, ascended the bagdad tower mentioned as overlooking the gate st. romain on the right hand; and finding justiniani on the roof, he said to him: "this fighting, if it may be so called, captain, is without heart. but two of our people have been killed; not a stone is shaken. to me it seems the sultan is amusing us while preparing something more serious." "your majesty," the genoese returned, soberly, "now has heaven given you the spirit of a soldier and the eyes as well. old john grant told me within an hour that the yellow flag on the rising ground before us denotes the sultan's quarters in the field, and is not to be confounded with his battle flag. it follows, i think, could we get behind the janissaries dismounted on the further slope of the rise, yet in position to meet a sally, we would discover the royal tent not unwisely pitched, if, as i surmise, this gate is indeed his point of main attack. and besides here are none of the old-time machines as elsewhere along our front; not a catapult, or bricole, or bible--as some, with wicked facetiousness, have named a certain invention for casting huge stones; nor have we yet heard the report of a cannon, or arquebus, or bombard, although we know the enemy has them in numbers. wherefore, keeping in mind the circumstance of his presence here, the omissions satisfy me the sultan relies on his great guns, and that, while amusing us, as your majesty has said, he is mounting them. to-morrow, or perhaps next day, he will open with them, and then"-- "what then?" constantine asked. "the world will have a new lesson in warfare." the emperor's countenance, visible under his raised visor, knit hard. "dear, dear god!" he said, half to himself. "if this old christian empire should be lost through folly of mine, who will there be to forgive me if not thou?" then, seeing the genoese observing him with surprise, he continued: "it is a simple tale, captain.... a dacian, calling himself urban, asked audience of me one day, and being admitted, said he was an artificer of cannon; that he had plied his art in the foundries of germany, and from study of powder was convinced of the practicality of applying it to guns of heavier calibre than any in use. he had discovered a composition of metals, he said, which was his secret, and capable, when properly cast, of an immeasurable strain. would i furnish him the materials, and a place, with appliances for the work such as he would name, i might collect the machines in my arsenal, and burn them or throw them into the sea. i might even level my walls, and in their stead throw up ramparts of common earth, and by mounting his guns upon them secure my capital against the combined powers of the world. he refused to give me details of his processes. i asked him what reward he wanted, and he set it so high i laughed. thinking to sound him further, i kept him in my service a few days; but becoming weary of his importunities, i dismissed him. i next heard of him at adrianople. the sultan mahommed entertained his propositions, built him a foundry, and tried one of his guns, with results the fame of which is a wonder to the whole east. it was the log of bronze count corti saw on the road--now it is here--and heaven sent it to me first." "your majesty," returned the genoese, impressed by the circumstance, and the evident remorse of the emperor, "heaven does not hold us accountable for errors of judgment. there is not a monarch in europe who would have accepted the man's terms, and it remains to be seen if mahommed, as yet but a callow youth, has not been cheated. but look yonder!" as he spoke, the janissaries in front of the gate mounted and rode forward, probably a hundred yards, pursued by a riotous shouting and cracking of whips. presently a train of buffaloes, yoked and tugging laboriously at something almost too heavy for them, appeared on the swell of earth; and there was a driver for every yoke, and every driver whirled a long stick with a longer lash fixed to it, and howled lustily. "it is the great gun," said constantine. "they are putting it in position." justiniani spoke to the men standing by the machines: "make ready bolt and stone." the balistiers took to their wheels eagerly, and discharged a shower of missiles at the janissaries and ox-drivers. "too short, my men--more range." the elevation was increased; still the bolts fell short. "bring forward the guns!" shouted justiniani. the guns were small bell-mouthed barrels of hooped iron, muzzle loading, mounted on high wheels, and each shooting half a dozen balls of lead large as walnuts. they were carefully aimed. the shot whistled and sang viciously. "higher, men!" shouted the genoese, from a merlon. "give the pieces their utmost range." the janissaries replied with a yell. the second volley also failed. then justiniani descended from his perch. "your majesty," he said, "to stop the planting of the gun there is nothing for us but a sally." "we are few, they are many," was the thoughtful reply. "one of us on the wall is worth a score of them in the field. their gun is an experiment. let them try it first." the genoese replied: "your majesty is right." the turks toiled on, backing and shifting their belabored trains, until the monster at last threatened the city with its great black cyclopean eye. "the dacian is not a bad engineer," said the emperor. "see, he is planting other pieces." thus justiniani; for oxen in trains similar to the first one came up tugging mightily, until by mid-afternoon on each flank of the first monster three other glistening yellow logs lay on their carriages in a like dubious quiet, leaving no doubt that st. romain was to be overwhelmed, if the new agencies answered expectations. if there was anxiety here, over the way there was impatience too fierce for control. urban, the dacian, in superintendency of the preparation, was naturally disposed to be careful, so much, in his view, depended on the right placement of the guns; but mahommed, on foot, and whip in hand, was intolerant, and, not scrupling to mix with the workmen, urged them vehemently, now with threats, now with promises of reward. "thy beasts are snails! give me the goad," he cried, snatching one from a driver. then to urban: "bring the powder, and a bullet, for when the sun goes down thou shalt fire the great gun. demur not. by the sword of solomon, there shall be no sleep this night in yon _gabour_ city, least of all in the palace they call blacherne." the dacian brought his experts together. the powder in a bag was rammed home; with the help of a stout slab, a stone ball was next rolled into the muzzle, then pushed nakedly down on the bag. of a truth there was need of measureless strength in the composition of the piece. finally the vent was primed, and a slow-match applied, after which urban reported: "the gun is ready, my lord." "then watch the sun, and--_bismillah!_--at its going down, fire.... aim at the gate--this one before us--and if thou hit it or a tower on either hand, i will make thee a _begler-bey_." the gun-planting continued. finally the sun paused in cloudy splendor ready to carry the day down with it. the sultan, from his tent of many annexes bedouin fashion, walked to where urban and his assistants stood by the carriage of the larger piece. "fire!" he said. urban knelt before him. "will my lord please retire?" "why should i retire?" "there is danger." mahommed smiled haughtily. "is the piece trained on the gate?" "it is; but i pray"-- "now if thou wilt not have me believe thee a dog not less than an unbeliever, rise, and do my bidding." the dacian, without more ado, put the loose end of the slow-match into a pot of live coals near by, and when it began to spit and sputter, he cast it off. his experts fled. only mahommed remained with him; and no feat of daring in battle could have won the young padishah a name for courage comparable to that the thousands looking on from a safe distance now gave him. "will my lord walk with me a little aside? he can then see the ball going." mahommed accepted the suggestion. "look now in a line with the gate, my lord." the match was at last spent. a flash at the vent--a spreading white cloud--a rending of the air--the rattle of wheels obedient to the recoil of the gun--a sound thunder in volume, but with a crackle sharper than any thunder--and we may almost say that, with a new voice, and an additional terror, war underwent a second birth. mahommed's ears endured a wrench, and for a time he heard nothing; but he was too intent following the flight of the ball to mind whether the report of the gun died on the heights of galata or across the bosphorus at scutari. he saw the blackened sphere pass between the towers flanking the gate, and speed on into the city--how far, or with what effect, he could not tell, nor did he care. urban fell on his knees. "mercy, my lord, mercy!" "for what? that thou didst not hit the gate? rise, man, and see if the gun is safe." and when it was so reported, he called to kalil, the vizier, now come up: "give the man a purse, and not a lean one, for, by allah! he is bringing constantinople to me." and despite the ringing in his ears, he went to his tent confident and happy. on the tower meantime constantine and the genoese beheld the smoke leap forth and curtain the gun, and right afterward they heard the huge ball go tearing past them, like an invisible meteor. their eyes pursued the sound--where the missile fell they could not say--they heard a crash, as if a house midway the city had been struck--then they gazed at each other, and crossed themselves. "there is nothing for us now but the sally," said the emperor. "nothing," replied justiniani. "we must disable the guns." "let us go and arrange it." there being no indication of further firing, the two descended from the tower. the plan of sortie agreed upon was not without ingenuity. the gate under the palace of blacherne called _cercoporta_ was to be opened in the night. [footnote: in the basement of the palace of blacherne there was an underground exit, cercoporta or gate of the circus; but isaac comnenus had walled it up in order to avoid the accomplishment of a prediction which announced that the emperor frederick would enter constantinople through it.... but before the siege by mahommed the exit was restored, and it was through it the turks passed into the city.--von hammer, _hist. de l'empire ottoman._] count corti, with the body-guard mounted, was to pass out by it, and surprise the janissaries defending the battery. simultaneously justiniani should sally by the gate st. romain, cross the moat temporarily bridged for the purpose, and, with the footmen composing the force in reserve, throw himself upon the guns. the scheme was faithfully attempted. the count, stealing out of the ancient exit in the uncertain light preceding the dawn, gained a position unobserved, and charged the careless turks. by this time it had become a general report that the net about his neck was a favor of the princess irene, and his battle cry confirmed it--_for god and irene!_ bursting through the half-formed opposition, he passed to the rear of the guns, and planted his banderole at the door of mahommed's tent. had his men held together, he might have returned with a royal prisoner. while attention was thus wholly given the count, justiniani overthrew the guns by demolishing the carriages. a better acquaintance with the operation known to moderns as "spiking a piece," would have enabled him to make the blow irreparable. the loss of janissaries was severe; that of the besieged trifling. the latter, foot and horse, returned by the gate st. romain unpursued. mahommed, aroused by the tumult, threw on his light armor, and rushed out in time to hear the cry of his assailant, and pluck the banderole from its place. at sight of the moon with the cross on its face, his wrath was uncontrollable. the aga in command and all his assistants were relentlessly impaled. there were other sorties in course of the siege, but never another surprise. chapter viii mahommed tries his guns again hardly had the bodies making the sortie retired within the gate when the janissaries on the eminence were trebly strengthened, and the noises in that quarter, the cracking of whips, the shouting of ox-drivers, the hammering betokened a prodigious activity. the besieged, under delusion that the guns had been destroyed, could not understand the enemy. not until the second ensuing morning was the mystery solved. the watchmen on the towers, straining to pierce the early light, then beheld the great bronze monster remounted and gaping at them through an embrasure, and other monsters of a like kind on either side of it, fourteen in all, similarly mounted and defended. the warders on the towers, in high excitement, sent for justiniani, and he in turn despatched a messenger to the emperor. together on the bagdad tower the two discussed the outlook. "your majesty," said the genoese, much chagrined, "the apostate dacian must be master of his art. he has restored the cannon i overthrew." after a time constantine replied: "i fear we have underrated the new sultan. great as a father may be, it is possible for a son to be greater." perceiving the emperor was again repenting the dismissal of urban, the captain held his peace until asked: "what shall we now do?" "your majesty," he returned, "it is apparent our sally was a failure. we slew a number of the infidels, and put their master--may god confound him!--to inconvenience, and nothing more. now he is on guard, we may not repeat our attempt. my judgment is that we let him try his armament upon our walls. they may withstand his utmost effort." the patience this required was not put to a long test. there was a sudden clamor of trumpets, and the janissaries, taking to their saddles, and breaking right and left into divisions, cleared the battery front. immediately a vast volume of smoke hid the whole ground, followed by a series of explosions. some balls passing over the defences ploughed into the city; and as definitions of force, the sounds they made in going were awful; yet they were the least of the terrors. both the towers were hit, and they shook as if an earthquake were wrestling with them. the air whitened with dust and fragments of crushed stone. the men at the machines and culverins cowered to the floor. constantine and the genoese gazed at each other until the latter bethought him, and ordered the fire returned. and it was well done, for there is nothing which shall bring men round from fright like action. then, before there could be an exchange of opinion between the high parties on the tower, a man in half armor issued from the slowly rising cloud, and walked leisurely forward. instead of weapons, he carried an armful of stakes, and something which had the appearance of a heavy gavel. after a careful examination of the ground to the gate, he halted and drove a stake, and from that point commenced zigzagging down the slope, marking each angle. justiniani drew nearer the emperor, and said, in a low voice: "with new agencies come new methods. the assault is deferred." "nay, captain, our enemy must attack; otherwise he cannot make the moat passable." "that, your majesty, was the practice. now he will gain the ditch by a trench." "with what object?" "under cover of the trench, he will fill the ditch." constantine viewed the operation with increased gravity. he could see how feasible it was to dig a covered way under fire of the guns, making the approach and the bombardment simultaneous; and he would have replied, but that instant a mob of laborers--so the spades and picks they bore bespoke them--poured from the embrasure of the larger gun, and, distributing themselves at easy working intervals along the staked line, began throwing up the earth on the side next the city. officers with whips accompanied and stood over them. the engineer--if we may apply the modern term--was at length under fire of the besieged; still he kept on; only when he exhausted his supply of stakes did he retire, leaving it inferrible that the trench was to run through the opening in the cemetery to the bridge way before the gate. at noon, the laborers being well sunk in the ground, the cannon again vomited fire and smoke, and with thunderous reports launched their heavy bullets at the towers. again the ancient piles shook from top to base. some of the balistiers were thrown down. the emperor staggered under the shock. one ball struck a few feet below a merlon of the bagdad, and when the dust blew away, an ugly crack was seen in the exposed face of the wall, extending below the roof. while the inspection of damages immediately ordered is in progress, we take the liberty of transporting the reader elsewhere, that he may see the effect of this amazing warfare on other parties of interest in the tragedy. count corti was with his guard at the foot of the tower when the first discharge of artillery took place. he heard the loud reports and the blows of the shot which failed not their aim; he heard also the sound of the bullets flying on into the city, and being of a quick imagination, shuddered to think of the havoc they might inflict should they fall in a thickly inhabited district. then it came to him that the residence of the princess irene must be exposed to the danger. like a christian and a lover, he, sought to allay the chill he felt by signing the cross repeatedly, and with unction, on brow and breast. the pious performance brought no relief. his dread increased. finally he sent a man with a message informing the emperor that he was gone to see what damage the guns had done in the city. he had not ridden far when he was made aware of the prevalence of an extraordinary excitement. it seemed the entire population had been brought from their houses by the strange thunder, and the appalling flight of meteoric bodies over their roofs. men and women were running about asking each other what had happened. at the corners he was appealed to: "oh, for christ's sake, stop, and tell us if the world is coming to an end!" arid in pity lie answered: "do not be so afraid, good people. it is the turks. they are trying to scare us by making a great noise. go back into your houses." "but the bullets which passed over us. what of them?" "where did they strike?" "on further. god help the sufferers!" one cry he heard so often it made an impression upon him: "the _panagia!_ tell his majesty, as he is a christian, to bring the blessed madonna from the chapel." with each leap of his horse he was now nearing the alighting places of the missiles, and naturally the multiplying signs of terror he observed, together with a growing assurance that the abode of the princess was in the range of danger, quickened his alarm for her. the white faces of the women he met and passed without a word reminded him the more that she was subject to the same peril, and in thought of her he forgot to sympathize with them. in byzantium one might be near a given point yet far away; so did the streets run up and down, and here and there, their eccentricities in width and direction proving how much more accident and whim had to do with them originally than art or science. knowing this, the count was not sparing of his horse, and as his blood heated so did his fancy. if the fair princess were unhurt, it was scarcely possible she had escaped the universal terror. he imagined her the object of tearful attention from her attendants. or perhaps they had run away, and left her in keeping of the tender madonna of blacherne. at last he reached a quarter where the throng of people compelled him to slacken his gait, then halt and dismount. it was but a few doors from the princess'. one house--a frame, two stories--appeared the object of interest. "what has happened?" he asked, addressing a tall man, who stood trembling and praying to a crucifix in his hand. "god protect us, sir knight! see how clear the sky is, but a great stone--some say it was a meteor--struck this house. there is the hole it made. others say it was a bullet from the turks.--save us, o son of mary!" and he fell to kissing the crucifix. "was anybody hurt?" the count asked, shaking the devotee. "yes--two women and a child were killed.--save us, o son of god! thou hast the power from the father." the count picked his way toward the house till he could get no further, so was it blocked by a mass of women on their knees, crying, praying, and in agony of fright. there, sure enough, was a front beaten in, exposing the wrecked interior. but who was the young woman at the door calmly directing some men bringing out the body of one apparently dead? her back was to him, but the sunlight was tangled in her uncovered hair, making gold of it. her figure was tall and slender, and there was a marvellous grace in her action. who was she? the count's heart was prophetic. he gave the bridle rein to a man near by, and holding his sword up, pushed through the kneeling mass. he might have been more considerate in going; but he was in haste, and never paused until at the woman's side. "god's mercy, princess irene!" he cried, "what dost thou here? are there not men to take this charge upon them?" and in his joy at finding her safe, he fell upon his knees, and, without waiting for her to offer the favor, took one of her hands, and carried it to his lips. "nay, count corti, is it not for me to ask what thou dost here?" her face was solemn, and he could hardly determine if the eyes she turned to him were not chiding; yet they were full of humid violet light, and she permitted him to keep the hand while he replied: "the turk is for the time having his own way. we cannot get to him.... i came in haste to--to see what his guns have done--or--why should i not say it? princess, i galloped here fearing thou wert in need of protection and help. i remembered that i was thy accepted knight." she understood him perfectly, and, withdrawing her hand, returned: "rise, count corti, thou art in the way of these bearing the dead." he stood aside, and the men passed him with their burden--a woman drenched in blood. "is this the last one?" she asked them. "we could find no other." "poor creature! ... yet god's will be done! ... bear her to my house, and lay her with the others." then to the count she said: "come with me." the princess set out after the men. immediately the women about raised a loud lamentation; such as were nearest her cried out: "blessings on you!" and they kissed the hem of her gown, and followed her moaning and weeping. the body was borne into the house, and to the chapel, and all who wished went in. before the altar, two others were lying lifeless on improvised biers, an elderly woman and a half-grown girl. the lady in picture above the altar looked down on them, as did the holy child in her arms; and there was much comfort to the spectators in the look. then, when the third victim was decently laid out, sergius began the service for the dead. the count stood by the princess, her attendants in group a little removed from them. in the midst of the holy ministration, a sound like distant rolling thunder penetrated the chapel. every one present knew what it was by this time--knew at least it was not thunder--and they cried out, and clasped each other--from their knees many fell grovelling on the floor. sergius' voice never wavered. corti would have extended his arms to give the princess support; but she did not so much as change color; her hands holding a silver triptych remained firm. the deadly bullets were in the air and might alight on the house; yet her mind was too steadfast, her soul too high, her faith too exalted for alarm; and if the count had been prone to love her for her graces of person, now he was prompted to adore her for her courage. outside near by, there was a crash as of a flying solid smiting another dwelling, and, without perceptible interval, an outcry so shrill and unintermitted it required no explanation. the princess was the first to speak. "proceed, sergius," she said; nor might one familiar with her voice have perceived any alteration in it from the ordinary; then to the count again: "let us go out; there may be others needing my care." at the door corti said: "stay, o princess--a word, i pray." she had only to look at his face to discover he was the subject of a fierce conflict of spirit. "have pity on me, i conjure you. honor and duty call me to the gate; the emperor may be calling me; but how can i go, leaving you in the midst of such peril and horrors?" "what would you have me do?" "fly to a place of safety." "where?" "i will find a place; if not within these walls, then"-- he stopped, and his eyes, bright with passion, fell before hers; for the idea he was about giving his tongue would be a doubly dishonorable coinage, since it included desertion of the beleaguered city, and violation of his compact with mahommed. "and then?" she asked. and love got the better of honor. "i have a ship in the harbor, o princess irene, and a crew devoted to me, and i will place you on its deck, and fly with you. doubt not my making the sea; there are not christians and mohammedans enough to stay me once my anchor is lifted, and my oars out; and on the sea freedom lives, and we will follow the stars to italy, and find a home." again he stopped, his face this time wrung with sudden anguish; then he continued: "god forgive, and deal with me mercifully! i am mad! ... and thou, o princess--do thou forgive me also, and my words and weakness. oh, if not for my sake, then for that which carried me away! or if thou canst not forget, pity me, pity me, and think of the wretchedness now my portion. i had thy respect, if not thy love; now both are lost--gone after my honor. oh! i am most miserable--miserable!" and wringing his hands, he turned his face from her. "count corti," she replied gently, "thou hast saved thyself. let the affair rest here. i forgive the proposal, and shall never remind thee of it. love is madness. return to duty; and for me"--she hesitated--"i hold myself ready for the sacrifice to which i was born. god is fashioning it; in his own time, and in the form he chooses, he will send it to me.... i am not afraid, and be thou not afraid for me. my father was a hero, and he left me his spirit. i too have my duty born within the hour--it is to share the danger of my kinsman's people, to give them my presence, to comfort them all i can. i will show thee what thou seemest not to have credited--that a woman can be brave as any man. i will attend the sick, the wounded, and suffering. to the dying i will carry such consolation as i possess--all of them i can reach--and the dead shall have ministration. my goods and values have long been held for the poor and unfortunate; now to the same service i consecrate myself, my house, my chapel, and altar.... there is my hand in sign of forgiveness, and that i believe thee a true knight. i will go with thee to thy horse." he bowed his head, and silently struggling for composure, carried the hand to his lips. "let us go now," she said. they went out together. another dwelling had been struck; fortunately it was unoccupied. in the saddle, he stayed to say: "thy soul, o princess irene, is angelic as thy face. thou hast devoted thyself to the suffering. am i left out? what word wilt thou give me?" "be the true knight thou art, count corti, and come to me as before." he rode away with a revelation; that in womanly purity and goodness there is a power and inspiration beyond the claims of beauty. the firing continued. seven times that day the turks assailed the gate st. romain with their guns; and while a few of the stones discharged flew amiss into the city, there were enough to still further terrorize the inhabitants. by night all who could had retreated to vaults, cellars, and such hiding-places as were safe, and took up their abodes in them. in the city but one woman went abroad without fear, and she bore bread and medicines, and dressed wounds, and assuaged sorrows, and as a madonna in fact divided worship with the madonna in the chapel up by the high residence. whereat count corti's love grew apace, though the recollection of the near fall he had kept him humble and circumspect. the same day, but after the second discharge of the guns, mahommed entered the part of his tent which, with some freedom, may be termed his office and reception-room, since it was furnished with seats and a large table, the latter set upon a heavily tufted rug, and littered over with maps and writing and drawing materials. notable amongst the litter was the sword of solomon. near it lay a pair of steel gauntlets elegantly gilt. one stout centre-tree, the main support of the roof of camel's hair, appeared gayly dressed with lances, shields, arms, and armor; and against it, strange to say, the companion of a bright red battle-flag, leant the banderole count corti had planted before the door the morning of the sally. a sliding flap overhead, managed by cords in the interior, was drawn up, admitting light and air. the office, it may be added, communicated by gay portieres with four other apartments, each having its separate centre-tree; one occupied by kalil, the vizier; one, a bed-chamber, so to speak; one, a stable for the imperial stud; the fourth belonged to no less a person than our ancient and mysterious acquaintance, the prince of india. mahommed was in half-armor; that is, his neck, arms, and body were in chain mail, the lightest and most flexible of the east, exquisitely gold-washed, and as respects fashion exactly like the suit habitually affected by count corti. his nether limbs were clad in wide trousers of yellow silk, drawn close at the ankles. pointed shoes of red leather completed his equipment, unless we may include a whip with heavy handle and long lash. could constantine have seen him at the moment, he would have recognized the engineer whose performance in tracing the trench he had witnessed with so much interest in the morning. the grand chamberlain received him with the usual prostration, and in that posture waited his pleasure. "bring me water. i am thirsty." the water was brought. "the prince of india now." presently the prince appeared in the costume peculiar to him--a cap and gown of black velvet, loose trousers, and slippers. his hair and beard were longer than when we knew him a denizen of constantinople, making his figure seem more spare and old; otherwise he was unchanged. he too prostrated himself; yet as he sank upon his knees, he gave the sultan a quick glance, intended doubtless to discover his temper more than his purpose. "you may retire." this to the chamberlain. upon the disappearance of the official, mahommed addressed the prince, his countenance flushed, his eyes actually sparkling. "god is great. all things are possible to him. who shall say no when he says yes? who resist when he bids strike? salute me, and rejoice with me, o prince. he is on my side. it was he who spoke in the thunder of my guns. salute me, and rejoice. constantinople is mine! the towers which have outlasted the ages, the walls which have mocked so many conquerors--behold them tottering to their fall! i will make dust of them. the city which has been a stumbling-block to the true faith shall be converted in a night. of the churches i will make mosques. salute me and rejoice! how may a soul contain itself knowing god has chosen it for such mighty things? rise, o prince and rejoice with me!" he caught up the sword of solomon, and in a kind of ecstasy strode about flourishing it. the prince, arisen, replied simply: "i rejoice with my lord;" and folding his arms across his breast, he waited, knowing he had been summoned for something more serious than to witness an outburst so wild--that directly this froth would disappear, as bubbles vanish from wine just poured. the most absolute of men have their ways--this was one of mahommed's. and behind his composed countenance the jew smiled, for, as he read it, the byplay was an acknowledgment of his influence over the chosen of god. and he was right. suddenly mahommed replaced the sword, and standing before him, asked abruptly: "tell me, have the stars fixed the day when i may assault the gabours?" "they have, my lord." "give it to me." the prince returned to his apartment, and came back with a horoscope. "this is their decision, my lord." in his character of messenger of the stars, the prince of india dispensed with every observance implying inferiority. without looking at the signs, or at the planets in their houses; without noticing the calculations accompanying the chart; glancing merely at the date in the central place, mahommed frowned, and said: "the twenty-ninth of may! fifty-three days! by allah and mahomet arid christ--all in one--if by the compound the oath will derive an extra virtue--what is there to consume so much time? in three days i will have the towers lording this gate they call st. romain in the ditch, and the ditch filled. in three days, i say." "perhaps my lord is too sanguine--perhaps he does not sufficiently credit the skill and resources of the enemy behind the gate--perhaps there is more to do than he has admitted into his anticipations." mahommed darted a look at the speaker. "perhaps the stars have been confidential with their messenger, and told him some of the things wanting to be done." "yes, my lord." the calmness of the prince astonished mahommed. "and art thou permitted to be confidential with me?" he asked. "my lord must break up this collection of his guns, and plant some of them against the other gates; say two at the golden gate, one at the caligaria, and before the selimbria and the adrianople two each. he will have seven left.... nor must my lord confine his attack to the landward side; the weakest front of the city is the harbor front, and it must be subjected. he should carry there at least two of his guns." "sword of solomon!" cried mahommed. "will the stars show me a road to possession of the harbor? will they break the chain which defends its entrance? will they sink or burn the enemy's fleet?" "no; those are heroisms left for my lord's endeavor." "thou dost taunt me with the impossible." the prince smiled. "is my lord less able than the crusaders? i know he is not too proud to be taught by them. once, marching upon the holy city, they laid siege to nicea, and after a time discovered they could not master it without first mastering lake ascanius. thereupon they hauled their ships three leagues overland, and launched them in the lake." [footnote: von hammer, _hist. de l'emp. ottoman._] mahommed became thoughtful. "if my lord does not distribute the guns; if he confines his attack to st. romain, the enemy, in the day of assault, can meet him at the breach with his whole garrison. more serious, if the harbor is left to the greeks, how can he prevent the genoese in galata from succoring them? my lord derives information from those treacherous people in the day; does he know of the intercourse between the towns by boats in the night? if they betray one side, will they be true to the other? my lord, they are christians; so are these with whom we are at war." the sultan sank into a seat; and satisfied with the impression he had made, the prince wisely allowed him his thoughts. "it is enough!" said the former, rising. then fixing his eye on his confederate, he asked: "what stars told thee these things, o prince?" "my lord, the firmament above is god's, and the sun and planets there are his mercifully to our common use. but we have each of us a firmament of our own. in mine, reason is the sun, and of its stars i mention two--experience and faith. by the light of the three, i succeed; when i refuse them, one or all, i surrender to chance." mahommed caught up the sword, and played with its ruby handle, turning it at angles to catch its radiations; at length he said: "prince of india, thou hast spoken like a prophet. go call kalil and saganos." chapter ix the madonna to the rescue we have given the opening of the siege of byzantium by mahommed with dangerous minuteness, the danger of course being from the critic. we have posted the warders on their walls, and over against them set the enemy in an intrenched line covering the whole landward side of the city. we have planted mahommed's guns, and exhibited their power, making it a certainty that a breach in the wall must be sooner or later accomplished. we have shown the effect of the fire of the guns, not only on the towers abutting the gate which was the main object of attack, but on the non-combatants, the women and children, in their terror seeking safety in cellars, vaults, and accessible underground retreats. we have carefully assembled and grouped those of our characters who have survived to this trying time; and the reader is informed where they are, the side with which their fortunes are cast, their present relations to each other, and the conditions which environ them. in a word, the reader knows their several fates are upon them, and the favors we now most earnestly pray are to be permitted to pass the daily occurrences of the siege, and advance quickly to the end. even battles can become monotonous in narrative. the sultan, we remark, adopted the suggestions of the prince of india. he distributed his guns, planting some of them in front of the several gates of the city. to control the harbor, he, in modern parlance, erected a battery on a hill by galata; then in a night, he drew a part of his fleet, including a number of his largest vessels, from besich-tasch on the bosphorus over the heights and hollows of pera, a distance of about two leagues, and dropped them in the golden horn. these constantine attacked. justiniani led the enterprise, but was repulsed. a stone bullet sunk his ship, and he barely escaped with his life. most of his companions were drowned; those taken were pitilessly hung. mahommed next collected great earthen jars--their like may yet be seen in the east--and, after making them air-tight, laid a bridge upon them out toward the single wall defending the harbor front. at the further end of this unique approach he placed a large gun; and so destructive was the bombardment thus opened that fire-ships were sent against the bridge and battery. but the genoese of galata betrayed the scheme, and it was baffled. the prisoners captured were hanged in view of the greeks, and in retaliation constantine exposed the heads of a hundred and sixty turks from the wall. on the landward side mahommed was not less fortunate. the zigzag trench was completed, and a footing obtained for his men in the moat, whence they strove to undermine the walls. of the lives lost during these operations no account was taken, since the hordes were the victims. their bodies were left as debris in the roadway so expensively constructed. day after day the towers bagdad and st. romain were more and more reduced. immense sections of them tumbling into the ditch were there utilized. day after day the exchange of bullets, bolts, stones, and arrows was incessant. the shouting in many tongues, heating of drums, and blowing of horns not seldom continued far into the night. the greeks on their side bore up bravely. old john grant plied the assailants with his inextinguishable fire. constantine, in seeming always cheerful, never shirking, visited the walls; at night, he seconded justiniani in hastening needful repairs. finally the steady drain upon the stores in magazine began to tell. provisions became scarce, and the diminution of powder threatened to silence the culverins and arquebuses. then the emperor divided his time between the defences and sancta sophia--between duty as a military commander, and prayer as a christian trustful in god. and it was noticeable that the services at which he assisted in the ancient church were according to latin rites; whereat the malcontents in the monasteries fell into deeper sullenness, and refused the dying the consolation of their presence. gennadius assumed the authority of the absent patriarch, and was influential as a prophet. the powerful brotherhood of the st. james', composed of able-bodied gentry and nobles who should have been militant at the gates, regarded the emperor as under ban. notaras and justiniani quarrelled, and the feud spread to their respective followers. one day, about the time the turkish ships dropped, as it were, from the sky into the harbor, when the store of powder was almost exhausted, and famine menaced the city, five galleys were reported in the offing down the marmora. about the same time the turkish flotilla was observed making ready for action. the hungry people crowded the wall from the seven towers to point serail. the emperor rode thither in haste, while mahommed betook himself to the shore of the sea. a naval battle ensued under the eyes of the two. [footnote: the following is a translation of von hammer's spirited account of this battle: "the th of april, , the turkish fleet, of more than four hundred sails, issued from the bay of phidalia, and directing itself toward the mouth of the bosphorus on the western side, cast anchor near the two villages to-day besich-tasch. a few days afterward five vessels appeared in the marmora, one belonging to the emperor, and four to the genoese. during the month of march they had been unable to issue from scio; but a favorable wind arising, they arrived before constantinople, all their sails unfurled. a division of the turkish fleet, more than a hundred and fifty in number, advanced to bar the passage of the christian squadron and guard the entrance to the harbor. the sky was clear, the sea tranquil, the walls crowded with spectators. the sultan himself was on the shore to enjoy the spectacle of a combat in which the superiority of his fleet seemed to promise him a certain victory. but the eighteen galleys at the head of the division, manned by inexperienced soldiers, and too low at the sides, were instantly covered with arrows, pots of greek fire, and a rain of stones launched by the enemy. they were twice repulsed. the greeks and the genoese emulated each other in zeal. flectanelli, captain of the imperial galley, fought like a lion; cataneo, novarro, balaneri, commanding the genoese, imitated his example. the turkish ships could not row under the arrows with which the water was covered; they fouled each other, and two took fire. at this sight mahommed could not contain himself; as if he would arrest the victory of the greeks, he spurred his horse in the midst of the ships. his officers followed him trying to reach the vessels combating only a stone's throw away. the soldiers, excited by shame or by fear, renewed the attack, but without success, and the five vessels, favored by a rising wind, forced a passage through the opposition, and happily entered the harbor."] the christian squadron made the golden horn, and passed triumphantly behind the chain defending it. they brought supplies of corn and powder. the relief had the appearance of a merciful providence, and forthwith the fighting was renewed with increased ardor. kalil the vizier exhorted mahommed to abandon the siege. "what, retire now? now that the gate st. romain is in ruins and the ditch filled?" the sultan cried in rage. "no, my bones to eyoub, my soul to eblis first. allah sent me here to conquer." those around attributed his firmness, some to religious zeal, some to ambition; none of them suspected how much the compact with count corti had to do with his decision. to the lasting shame of christian europe, the arrival of the five galleys, and the victory they achieved, were all of succor and cheer permitted the heroic emperor. but the unequal struggle wore on, and with each set of sun mahommed's hopes replumed themselves. from much fondling and kissing the sword of solomon, and swearing by it, the steel communicated itself to his will; while on the side of the besieged, failures, dissensions, watching and labor, disparity in numbers, inferiority in arms, the ravages of death, and the neglect of christendom, slowly but surely invited despair. weeks passed thus. april went out; and now it is the twenty-third of may. on the twenty-ninth--six days off--the stars, so we have seen, will permit an assault. and on this day the time is verging midnight. between the sky and the beleaguered town a pall of clouds is hanging thick. at intervals light showers filter through the pall, and the drops fall perpendicularly, for there is no wind. and the earth has its wrap of darkness, only over the seven hills of the old capital it appears to be in double folds oppressively close. darkness and silence and vacancy, which do not require permission to enter by a gate, have possession of the streets and houses; except that now and then a solitary figure, gliding swiftly, turns a corner, pauses to hear, moves on again, and disappears as if it dropped a curtain behind it. desertion is the rule. the hush is awful. where are the people? to find each other friends go from cellar to cellar. there are vaults and arched passages, crypts under churches and lordly habitations, deep, damp, mouldy, and smelling of rotten air, sheltering families. in many districts all life is underground. sociality, because it cannot exist under such conditions save amongst rats and reptiles, ceased some time ago. yet love is not dead--thanks, o heaven, for the divine impulse!--it has merely taken on new modes of expression; it shows itself in tears, never in laughter; it has quit singing, it moans; and what moments mothers are not on their knees praying, they sit crouched, and clasping their little ones, and listen pale with fear and want. listening is the universal habit; and the start and exclamation with which in the day the poor creatures recognize the explosive thunder of mahommed's guns explain the origin of the habit. at this particular hour of the twenty-third of may there are two notable exceptions to the statement that darkness, silence and vacancy have possession of the streets and houses. by a combination of streets most favorable for the purpose, a thoroughfare had come into use along which traffic preferably drove its bulky commodities from st. peter's on the harbor to the gates st. romain and adrianople; its greater distance between terminal points being offset by advantages such as solidity, width and gentler grades. in one of the turns of this very crooked way there is now a murky flush cast by flambeaux sputtering and borne in hand. on either side one may see the fronts of houses without tenants, and in the way itself long lines of men tugging with united effort at some cumbrous body behind them. there is no clamor. the labor is heavy, and the laborers in earnest. some of them wear round steel caps, but the majority are civilians with here and there a monk, the latter by the latin cross at his girdle an _azymite_. now and then the light flashes back from a naked torso streaming with perspiration. one man in armor rides up and down the lines on horseback. he too is in earnest. he speaks low when he has occasion to stop and give a direction, but his face seen in flashes of the light is serious, and knit with purpose. the movement of the lines is slow; at times they come to a dead stand-still. if the halt appears too long the horseman rides back and comes presently to the black hull of a dismantled galley on rollers. the stoppages are to shift the rollers forward. when the shifting is done, he calls out: "make ready, men!" whereupon every one in the lines catches hold of a rope, and at his "now--for love of christ!" there follows a pull with might, and the hull drags on. in these later days of the siege there are two persons actively engaged in the defence who are more wrought upon by the untowardness of the situation than any or all their associates--they are the emperor and count corti. there should be no difficulty in divining the cause of the former's distress. it was too apparent to him that his empire was in desperate straits; that as st. romain underwent its daily reduction so his remnant of state and power declined. and beholding the dissolution was very like being an enforced witness of his own dying. but count corti with the deepening of the danger only exerted himself the more. he seemed everywhere present--now on the ruins of the towers, now in the moat, now foremost in a countermine, and daily his recklessness increased. his feats with bow and sword amazed his friends. he became a terror to the enemy. he never tired. no one knew when he slept. and as note was taken of him, the question was continually on the lip, what possesses the man? he is a foreigner--this is not his home--he has no kindred here--what can be his motive? and there were who said it was christian zeal; others surmised it was soldier habit; others again, that for some reason he was disgusted with life; yet others, themselves of sordid natures, said the emperor affected him, and that he was striving for a great reward in promise. as in the camps of the besiegers none knew the actual reason of mahommed's persistence, so here the secret of the activity which left the count without a peer in performance and daring went without explanation. a few--amongst them the emperor--were aware of the meaning of the red net about the italian's neck--it shone so frequently through the smoke and dust of hourly conflict as to have become a subject of general observation--yet in the common opinion he was only the lady's knight; and his battle cry, _for christ and irene--now!_ did but confirm the opinion. time and time again, mahommed beheld the doughty deeds of his rival, heard his shout, saw the flash of his blade, sometimes near, sometimes afar, but always where the press was thickest. strange was it that of the two hosts he alone understood the other's inspiration? he had only to look into his own heart, and measure the force of the passion there. the horseman we see in charge of the removal of the galley-hulk this night of the twenty-third of may is count corti. it is wanted at st. romain. the gate is a hill of stone and mortar, without form; the moat almost level from side to side; and justiniani has decided upon a barricade behind a new ditch. he will fill the hull with stones, and defend from its deck; and it must be on the ground by break of day. precisely as count corti was bringing the galley around the turn of the thoroughfare, constantine was at the altar in sancta sophia where preparations for mass were making; that is, the priests were changing their vestments, and the acolytes lighting the tall candles. the emperor sat in his chair of state just inside the brass railing, unattended except by his sword-bearer. his hands were on his knees, his head bowed low. he was acknowledging a positive need of prayer. the ruin at the gate was palpable; but god reigned, and might be reserving his power for a miraculous demonstration. the preparation was about finished when, from the entrances of the church opposite the nave, a shuffling of many feet was heard. the light in that quarter was weak, and some moments passed before the emperor perceived a small procession advancing, and arose. the garbs were of orthodox brotherhoods which had been most bitter in their denunciation. none of them had approached the door of the holy house for weeks. the imperial mind was greatly agitated by the sight. were the brethren recanting their unpatriotic resolutions? had heaven at last given them an understanding of the peril of the city? had it brought to them a realization of the consequences if it fell under the yoke of the turk?--that the whole east would then be lost to christendom, with no date for its return? a miracle!--and to god the glory! and without a thought of himself the devoted man walked to the gate of the railing, and opening it, waited to receive the penitents. before him in front of the gate they knelt--in so far they yielded to custom. "brethren," he said, "this high altar has not been honored with your presence for many days. as basileus, i bid you welcome back, and dare urge the welcome in god's holy name. reason instructs me that your return is for a purpose in some manner connected with the unhappy condition in which our city and empire, not to mention our religion, are plunged. rise, one of you, and tell me to what your appearance at this solemn hour is due." a brother in gray, old and stooped, arose, and replied: "your majesty, it cannot be that you are unacquainted with the traditions of ancient origin concerning constantinople and hagia sophia; forgive us, however, if we fear you are not equally well informed of a more recent prophecy, creditably derived, we think, and presume to speak of its terms. 'the infidels'--so the prediction runs--'will enter the city; but the instant they arrive at the column of constantine the great, an angel will descend from heaven, and put a sword in the hands of a man of low estate seated at the foot of the column, and order him to avenge the people of god with it. overcome by sudden terror, the turks will then take to flight, and be driven, not only from the city, but to the frontier of persia.' [footnote: von hammer.] this prediction relieves us, and all who believe in it, from fear of mahommed and his impious hordes, and we are grateful to heaven for the divine intervention. but, your majesty, we think to be forgiven, if we desire the honor of the deliverance to be accounted to the holy mother who has had our fathers in care for so many ages, and redeemed them miraculously in instances within your majesty's knowledge. wherefore to our purpose.... we have been deputed by the brotherhoods in constantinople, united in devotion to the most blessed madonna of blacherne, to pray your permission to take the _panagia_ from the church of the virgin of hodegetria, where it has been since the week of the passover, and intrust it to the pious women of the city. to-morrow at noon, your majesty consenting, they will assemble at the acropolis, and with the banner at their head, go in procession along the walls and to every threatened gate, never doubting that at the sight of it the sultan and his unbaptized hordes will be reft of breath of body or take to flight.... this we pray of your majesty, that the mother of god may in these degenerate days have back the honor and worship accorded her by the emperors and greeks of former times." the old man ceased, and again fell upon his knees, while his associate deputies rang the space with loud _amens_. it was well the light was dim, and the emperor's face in shadow; it was well the posture of the petitioners helped hide him from close study; a feeling mixed of pity, contempt, and unutterable indignation seized him, distorting his features, and shaking his whole person. recantation and repentance!--pledge of loyalty!--offer of service at the gates and on the shattered walls!--heaven help him! there was no word of apology for their errors and remissness--not a syllable in acknowledgment of his labors and services--and he about to pray god for strength to die if the need were, as became the emperor of a brave and noble people! an instant he stood gazing at them--an instant of grief, shame, mortification, indignation, all heightened by a burning sense of personal wrong. ay, god help him! "bear with me a little," he said quietly, and passing the waiting priests, went and knelt upon a step of the altar in position to lay his head upon the upper step. minutes passed thus. the deputies supposed him praying for the success of the morrow's display; he was in fact praying for self-possession to answer them as his judgment of policy demanded. at length he arose, and returned to them, and had calmness to say: "arise, brethren, and go in peace. the keeper of the church will deliver the sacred banner to the pious women. only i insist upon a condition; if any of them are slain by the enemy, whom you and they know to have been bred in denial of womanly virtue, scorning their own mothers and wives, and making merchandise of their daughters--if any of them be slain, i say, then you shall bear witness to those who sent you to me that i am innocent of the blood-guilt. arise, and go in peace." they marched out of the church as they had come in, and he proceeded with the service. next day about ten o'clock in the morning there was a lull in the fighting at the gate st. romain. it were probably better to say the turks for some reason rested from their work of bringing stones, tree-trunks, earth in hand carts, and timbers wrenched from houses--everything, in fact, which would serve to substantially fill the moat in that quarter. then upon the highest heap of what had been the tower of bagdad count corti appeared, a black shield on his arm, his bow in one hand, his banderole in the other. "have a care, have a care!" his friends halloed. "they are about firing the great gun." corti seemed not to hear, but deliberately planted the banderole, and blowing his trumpet three times, drew an arrow from the quiver at his back. the gun was discharged, the bullet striking below him. when the dust cleared away, he replied with his trumpet. then the turks, keeping their distance, set up a cry. most of the arrows shot at him fell short. seeing their indisposition to accept his challenge, he took seat upon a stone. not long then until a horseman rode out from the line of janissaries still guarding the eminence, and advanced down the left of the zigzag galloping. he was in chain mail glistening like gold, but wore flowing yellow trousers, while his feet were buried in shoe-stirrups of the royal metal. looking over the small round black shield on his left arm, and holding a bow in the right hand, easy in the saddle, calm, confident, the champion slackened speed when within arrow flight, but commenced caracoling immediately. a prolonged hoarse cry arose behind him. of the christians, the count alone recognized the salute of the janissaries, still an utterance amongst turkish soldiers, in literal translation: _the padishah! live the padishah!_ the warrior was mahommed himself! arising, the count placed an arrow at the string, and shouted, "_for christ and irene--now!_" with the last word, he loosed the shaft. catching the missile lightly on his shield, mahommed shouted back: "_allah-il-allah!_" and sent a shaft in return. the exchange continued some minutes. in truth, the count was not a little proud of the enemy's performance. if there was any weakness on his part, if his clutch of the notch at the instant of drawing the string was a trifle light, the fault was chargeable to a passing memory. this antagonist had been his pupil. how often in the school field, practising with blunted arrows, the two had joyously mimicked the encounter they were now holding. at last a bolt, clanging dully, dropped from the sultan's shield, and observing that it was black feathered, he swung from his seat to the ground, and, shifting the horse between him and the foe, secured the missile, and remounted. _"allah-il-allah!"_ he cried, slowly backing the charger out of range. the count repeated the challenge through his trumpet, and sat upon the stone again; but no other antagonist showing himself, he at length descended from the heap. in his tent mahommed examined the bolt; and finding the head was of lead, he cut it open, and extracted a scrip inscribed thus: "to-day at noon a procession of women will appear on the walls. you may know it by the white banner a monk will bear, with a picture of the madonna painted on it. _the princess irene marches next after the banner._" mahommed asked for the time. it was half after ten o'clock. in a few minutes the door was thronged by mounted officers, who, upon receiving a verbal message from him, sped away fast as they could go. thereupon the conflict was reopened. indeed, it raged more fiercely than at any previous time, the slingers and bowmen being pushed up to the outer edge of the moat, and the machines of every kind plied over their heads. in his ignorance of the miracle expected of the lady of the banner, mahommed had a hope of deterring the extraordinary march. nevertheless at the appointed hour, ten o'clock, the church of the virgin of hodegetria was surrounded by nuns and monks; and presently the choir of sancta sophia issued from the house, executing a solemn chant; the emperor followed in basilean vestments; then the _panagia_ appeared. at sight of the picture of the very holy virgin painted front view, the eyes upraised, the hands in posture of prayer, the breast covered by a portrait of the child, the heads encircled by the usual nimbus, the mass knelt, uttering cries of adoration. the princess irene, lightly veiled and attired in black, advanced, and, kissing the fringed corners of the hallowed relic, gathered the white staying ribbons in her hands; thereupon the monk appointed to carry it moved after the choir, and the nuns took places. and there were tears and sighs, but not of fear. the mother of god would now assume the deliverance of her beloved capital. as it had been to the avars, and later to the russians under askold and dir, it would be now to mahommed and his ferocious hordes--all heaven would arm to punish them. they would not dare look at the picture twice, or if they did--well, there are many modes of death, and it will be for the dear mother to choose. thus the women argued. possibly a perception of the failure in the defence, sharpened by a consciousness of the horrors in store for them if the city fell by assault, turned them to this. there is no relief from despair like faith. from the little church, the devotees of the very holy virgin took their way on foot to the southeast, chanting as they went, and as they went their number grew. whence the accessions, none inquired. they first reached a flight of steps leading to the banquette or footway along the wall near the golden gate. the noise of the conflict, the shouting and roar of an uncounted multitude of men in the heat and fury of combat, not to more than mention the evidences of the conflict--arrows, bolts, and stones in overflight and falling in remittent showers--would have dispersed them in ordinary mood; but they were under protection--the madonna was leading them--to be afraid was to deny her saving grace. and then there was no shrinking on the part of the princess irene. even as she took time and song from the choir, they borrowed of her trust. at the foot of the steps the singers turned aside to allow the _panagia_ to go first. the moment of miracle was come! what form would the manifestation take? perhaps the doors and windows of heaven would open for a rain of fire--perhaps the fighting angels who keep the throne of the father would appear with swords of lightning--perhaps the mother and son would show themselves. had they not spared and converted the khagan of the avars? whatever the form, it were not becoming to stand between the _panagia_ and the enemy. the holy man carrying the ensign was trustful as the women, and he ascended the steps without faltering. gathering the ribbons a little more firmly in her hands, the princess kept her place. up--up they were borne--mother and son. then the white banner was on the height--seen first by the greeks keeping the wall, and in the places it discovered them, they fell upon their faces, next by the hordes. and they--oh, a miracle, a miracle truly!--they stood still. the bowman drawing his bow, the slinger whirling his sling, the arquebusers taking aim matches in hand, the strong men at the winches of the mangonels, all stopped--an arresting hand fell on them--they might have been changed to pillars of stone, so motionlessly did they stand and look at the white apparition. _kyrie eleison_, thrice repeated, then _christie eleison_, also thrice repeated, descended to them in the voices of women, shrilled by excitement. and the banner moved along the wall, not swiftly as if terror had to do with its passing, but slowly, the image turned outwardly, the princess next it, the ribbons in her hands; after her the choir in full chant; and then the long array of women in ecstasy of faith and triumph; for before they were all ascended, the hordes at the edge of the moat, and those at a distance--or rather such of them as death or wounds would permit--were retreating to their entrenchment. nor that merely--the arrest which had fallen at the golden gate extended along the front of leaguerment from the sea to blacherne, from blacherne to the acropolis. so it happened that in advance of the display of the picture, without waiting for the _kyrie eleison_ of the glad procession, the turks took to their defences; and through the city, from cellar, and vault, and crypt, and darkened passage, the wonderful story flew; and there being none to gainsay or explain it, the miracle was accepted, and the streets actually showed signs of a quick return to their old life. even the very timid took heart, and went about thanking god and the _panagia blachernitissa_. and here and there the monks passed, sleek and blithe, and complacently twirling the greek crosses at the whip-ends of their rosaries of polished horn buttons large as walnuts, saying: "the danger is gone. see what it is to have faith! had we kept on trusting the _azymites_, whether roman cardinal or apostate emperor, a muezzin would ere long, perhaps to-morrow, be calling to prayer from the dome of hagia sophia. blessed be the _panagia!_ to-night let us sleep; and then--then we will dismiss the mercenaries with their latin tongues." but there will be skeptics to the last hour of the last day; so is the world made of kinds of men. constantine and justiniani did not disarm or lay aside their care. in unpatriotic distrust, they kept post behind the ruins of st. romain, and saw to it that the labor of planting the hull of the galley for a new wall, strengthened with another ditch of dangerous depth and width, was continued. and they were wise; for about four o'clock in the afternoon, there was a blowing of horns on the parapet by the monster gun, and five heralds in tunics stiff with gold embroidery, and trousers to correspond--splendid fellows, under turbans like balloons, each with a trumpet of shining silver--set out for the gate, preceding a stately unarmed official. the heralds halted now and then to execute a flourish. constantine, recognizing an envoy, sent justiniani and count corti to meet him beyond the moat, and they returned with the sultan's formal demand for the surrender of the city. the message was threatening and imperious. the emperor replied offering to pay tribute. mahommed rejected the proposal, and announced an assault. the retirement of the hordes at sight of the _panagia_ on the wall was by mahommed's order. his wilfulness extended to his love--he did not intend the princess irene should suffer harm. chapter x the night before the assault the artillery of mahommed had been effective, though not to the same degree, elsewhere than at st. romain. jerome the italian and leonardo di langasco the genoese, defending the port of blacherne in the lowland, had not been able to save the xiloporta or wood gate on the harbor front harmless; under pounding of the floating battery it lay in the dust, like a battered helmet. john grant and theodore de carystos looked at the green hills of eyoub in front of the gate caligaria or charsias, assigned to them, through fissures and tumbles-down which made their hearts sore. the bochiardi brothers, paul and antonin, had fared no better in their defence of the gate adrianople. at the gate selimbria, theophilus palaeologus kept the imperial flag flying, but the outer faces of the towers there were in the ditch serving the uses of the enemy. contarino the venetian, on the roof of the golden gate, was separated from the wall reaching northward to selimbria by a breach wide enough to admit a chariot. gabriel trevisan, with his noble four hundred venetians, kept good his grip on the harbor wall from the acropolis to the gate of st. peter's. through the incapacity or treason of duke notaras, the upper portion of the golden horn was entirely lost to the christians. from the seven towers to galata the ottoman fleet held the wall facing the marmora as a net of close meshes holds the space of water it is to drag. in a word, the hour for assault had arrived, and from the twenty-fourth to evening of the twenty-eighth of may mahommed diligently prepared for the event. the attack he reduced to a bombardment barely sufficient to deter the besiegers from systematic repairs. the reports of his guns were but occasionally heard. at no time, however, was the energy of the man more conspicuous. previously his orders to chief officers in command along the line had been despatched to them; now he bade them to personal attendance; and, as may be fancied, the scene at his tent was orientally picturesque from sunrise to sunset. such an abounding of moslem princes and princes not moslem, of pachas, and beys, and governors of castles, of sheiks, and captains of hordes without titles; such a medley of costumes, and armor, and strange ensigns; such a forest of tall shafts flying red horse-tails; such a herding of caparisoned steeds; such a company of trumpeters and heralds--had seldom if ever been seen. it seemed the east from the euphrates and red sea to the caspian, and the west far as the iron gates of the danube, were there in warlike presence. yet for the most part these selected lions of tribes kept in separate groups and regarded each other askance, having feuds and jealousies amongst themselves; and there was reason for their good behavior--around them, under arms, were fifteen thousand watchful janissaries, the flower of the sultan's host, of whom an old chronicler has said, each one is a giant in stature, and the equal of ten ordinary men. throughout those four days but one man had place always at mahommed's back, his confidant and adviser--not kalil, it is to be remarked, or saganos, or the mollah kourani, or akschem-sed-din the dervish. "my lord," the prince of india had argued when the sultan resolved to summon his vassal chiefs to personal conference, "all men love splendor; pleasing the eye is an inducement to the intelligent; exciting the astonishment of the vulgar disposes them to submit to superiority in another without wounding their vanity. the rajahs in my country practise this philosophy with a thorough understanding. having frequently to hold council with their officials, into the tent or hall of ceremony they bring their utmost riches. the lesson is open to my lord." so when his leaders of men were ushered into the audience, the interior of mahommed's tent was extravagantly furnished, and their prostrations were at the step of a throne. nevertheless in consenting to the suggestion, the sultan had insisted upon a condition. "they shall not mistake me for something else than a warrior--a politician or a diplomatist, for instance--or think the heaviest blow i can deal is with the tongue or a pen. art thou hearing, prince?" "i hear, my lord." "so, by the tomb of the prophet--may his name be exalted!--my household, viziers and all, shall stand at my left; but here on my right i will have my horse in panoply; and he shall bear my mace and champ his golden bit, and be ready to tread on such of the beggars as behave unseemly." and over the blue and yellow silken rugs of khorassan, with which the space at the right of the throne was spread, the horse, bitted and house led, had free range, an impressive reminder of the master's business of life. as they were christians or moslems, mahommed addressed the vassals honored by his summons, and admitted separately to his presence; for the same arguments might not be pleasing to both. "i give you trust," he would say to the christian, "and look for brave and loyal service from you.... i shall be present with you, and as an eyewitness judge of your valor, and never had men such incentives. the wealth of ages is in the walls before us, and it shall be yours--money, jewels, goods and people--all yours as you can lay hands on it. i reserve only the houses and churches. are you poor, you may go away rich; if rich, you may be richer; for what you get will be honorable earnings of your right hand of which none shall dispossess you--and to that treaty i swear.... rise now, and put your men in readiness. the stars have promised me this city, and their promises are as the breath of the god we both adore." very different in style and matter were his utterances to a moslem. "what is that hanging from thy belt?" "it is a sword, my lord." "god is god, and there is no other god--_amin!_ and he it was who planted iron in the earth, and showed the miner where it was hid, and taught the armorer to give it form, and harden it, even the blade at thy belt; for god had need of an instrument for the punishment of those who say 'god hath partners.' ... and who are they that say 'god hath partners--a son and his mother'? here have they their stronghold; and here have we been brought to make roads through its walls, and turn their palaces of unbelief into harems. for that thou hast thy sword, and i mine--_amin!_... it is the will of god that we despoil these _gabours_ of their wealth and their women; for are they not of those of whom it is said: 'in their hearts is a disease, and god hath increased their disease, and for them is ordained a painful punishment, because they have charged the prophet of god with falsehood'? that they who escape the sharpness of our swords shall be as beggars, and slaves, and homeless wanderers--such is the punishment, and it is the judgment of god--_amin!_ ... that they shall leave all they have behind them--so also hath god willed, and i say it shall be. i swear it. and that they leave behind them is for us who were appointed from the beginning of the world to take it; that also god wills, and i say it shall be. i swear it. _amin!_ ... what if the way be perilous, as i grant it is? is it not written: 'a soul cannot die except by permission of god, according to a writing of god, definite as to time'? and if a man die, is it not also written: 'repute not those slain in god's cause to be dead; nay, alive with god, they are provided for'? they are people of the 'right hand,' of whom it is written: 'they shall be brought nigh god in the gardens of delight, upon inwrought couches reclining face to face. youths ever young shall go unto them round about with goblets and ewers, and a cup of flowing wine; and fruits of the sort which they shall choose, and the flesh of birds of the kind which they shall desire, and damsels with eyes like pearls laid up, we will give them as a reward for that which they have done.' ... but the appointed time is not yet for all of us--nay, it is for the fewest--_amin!_ ... and when the will of god is done, then for such as live, lo! over the walls yonder are gold refined and coined, and gold in vessels, and damsels on silken couches, their cheeks like roses of damascus, their arms whiter and cooler than lilies, and as pearls laid up are their eyes, and their bodies sweeter than musk on the wings of the south wind in a grove of palms. with the gold we can make gardens of delight; and the damsels set down in the gardens, ours the fault if the promise be not made good as it was spoken by the prophet--'paradise shall be brought near unto the pious, to a place not distant from them, so they shall see it!' ... being of those who shall 'receive their books in the right hand,' more need not be said unto you. i only reserve for myself the houses when you have despoiled them, and the churches. make ready yourself and your people, and tell them faithfully what i say, and swear to. i will come to you with final orders. arise!" [footnote: for the quotations in this speech, see _selections from the koran_, by edward william lane.] from sunrise to sunset of the twenty-seventh mahommed was in the saddle going with the retinue of a conqueror from chief to chief. from each he drew a detachment to be held in reserve. one hundred thousand men were thus detached. "see to it," he said finally, "that you direct your main effort against the gate in front of you.... put the wild men in the advance. the dead will be useful in the ditch.... have the ladders at hand.... at the sound of my trumpets, charge.... proclaim for me that he who is first upon the walls shall have choice of a province. i will make him governor. god is god. i am his servant, ordering as he has ordered." on the twenty-eighth, he sent all the dervishes in camp to preach to the moslems in arms; and of such effect were their promises of pillage and paradise that after the hour of the fifth prayer, the multitude, in all quite two hundred and fifty thousand, abandoned themselves to transports of fanaticism. of their huts and booths they made heaps, and at night set fire to them; and the tents of the pachas and great officers being illuminated, and the ships perfecting the blockade dressed in lights, the entrenchment from blacherne to the seven towers, and the sea thence to the acropolis, were in a continued brilliance reaching up to the sky. even the campania was invaded by the dazzlement of countless bonfires. and from the walls the besieged, if they looked, beheld the antics of the hordes; if they listened, they heard the noise, in the distance, a prolonged, inarticulate, irregular clamor of voices, near by, a confusion of songs and cries. at times the bray of trumpets and the roll of drums great and small shook the air, and smothered every rival sound. and where the dervishes came, in their passage from group to group, the excitement arose out of bounds, while their dancing lent diablerie to the scene. assuredly there was enough in what they beheld to sink the spirit of the besieged, even the boldest of them. the cry _allah-il-allah_ shouted from the moat was trifling in comparison with what they might have overheard around the bonfires. "why do you burn your huts?" asked a prudent officer of his men. "because we will not need them more. the city is for us to-morrow. the padishah has promised and sworn." "did he swear it?" "ay, by the bones of the three in the tomb of the prophet." at another fire, the following: "yes, i have chosen my palace already. it is on the hill over there in the west." and again: "tell us, o son of mousa, when we are in the town what will you look for?" "the things i most want." "well, what things?" "may the jinn fill thy stomach with green figs for such a question of my mother's son! what things? two horses out of the emperor's stable. and thou--what wilt thou put thy hand to first?" "oh, i have not made up my mind! i am thinking of a load of gold for my camel--enough to take my father and his three wives to mecca, and buy water for them from the zem-zem. praised be allah!" "bah! gold will be cheap." "yes, as bezants; but i have heard of a bucket the unbelieving greeks use at times for mixing wine and bread in. it is when they eat the body of their god. they say the bucket is so big it takes six fat priests to lift it." "it is too big. i'll gather the bezants." "well," said a third, with a loud moslem oath, "keep to your gold, whether in pots or coin. for me--for me"-- "ha, ha!--he don't know." "don't i? thou grinning son of a hindoo ape." "what is it, then?" "the thing which is first in thy mind." "name it." "a string of women." "old or young?" "an _hoo-rey-yeh_ is never old." "what judgment!" sneered the other. "i will take some of the old ones as well." "what for?" "for slaves to wait on the young. was it not said by a wise man, 'sweet water in the jar is not more precious than peace in the family'?" undoubtedly the evil genius of byzantium in this peril was the prince of india. "my lord," he had said, cynically, "of a truth a man brave in the day can be turned into a quaking coward at night; you have but to present him a danger substantial enough to quicken his imagination. these greeks have withstood you stoutly; try them now with your power a vision of darkness." "how, prince?" "in view and hearing from the walls let the hordes kindle fires to-night. multiply the fires, if need be, and keep the thousands in motion about them, making a spectacle such as this generation has not seen; then"-- the singular man stopped to laugh. mahommed gazed at him in silent wonder. "then," he continued, "so will distorted fancy do its work, that by midnight the city will be on its knees praying to the mother of god, and every armed man on the walls who has a wife or daughter will think he hears himself called to for protection. try it, my lord, and thou mayst whack my flesh into ribbons if by dawn the general fear have not left but a half task for thy sword." it was as the jew said. attracted by the illumination in the sky, suggestive of something vast and terrible going on outside the walls, and still full of faith in a miraculous deliverance, thousands hastened to see the mercy. what an awakening was in store for them! enemies seemed to have arisen out of the earth--devils, not men. the world to the horizon's rim appeared oppressed with them. nor was it possible to misapprehend the meaning of what they beheld. "to-morrow--to-morrow"--they whispered to each other--"god keep us!" and pouring back into the streets, they became each a preacher of despair. yet--marvelous to say--the monks sallied from their cells with words of cheer. "have faith," they said. "see, we are not afraid. the blessed mother has not deserted her children. believe in her. she is resolved to allow the _azymite_ emperor to exhaust his vanity that in the last hour he and his latin myrmidons may not deny her the merit of the salvation. compose yourselves, and fear not. the angel will find the poor man at the column of constantine." the ordinary soul beset with fears, and sinking into hopelessness, is always ready to accept a promise of rest. the people listened to the priestly soothsayers. nay, the too comforting assurance made its way to the defenders at the gates, and hundreds of them deserted their posts; leaving the enemy to creep in from the moat, and, with hooks on long poles, actually pull down some of the new defences. it scarcely requires telling how these complications added weight to the cares with which the emperor was already overladen. through the afternoon he sat by the open window of a room above the cercoporta, or sunken gate under the southern face of his high residence, [footnote: this room is still to be seen. the writer once visited it. arriving near, his turkish _cavass_ requested him to wait a moment. the man then advanced alone and cautiously, and knocked at the door. there was a conference, and a little delay; after which the _cavass_ announced it was safe to go in. the mystery was revealed upon entering. a half dozen steaming tubs were scattered over the paved floor, and by each of them stood a scantily attired woman with a dirty _yashmak_ covering her face. the chamber which should have been very sacred if only because there the last of the byzantine emperors composedly resigned himself to the inevitable, had become a filthy den devoted to one of the most ignoble of uses. the shame is, of course, to the greeks of constantinople.] watching the movements of the turks. the subtle prophet which sometimes mercifully goes before death had discharged its office with him. he had dismissed his last hope. beyond peradventure the hardest task to one pondering his fate uprisen and standing before him with all its attending circumstances, is to make peace with himself; which is simply viewing the attractions of this life as birds of plumage in a golden cage, and deliberately opening the door, and letting them loose, knowing they can never return. this the purest and noblest of the imperial greeks--the evil times in which his race as a ruler was run prevent us from terming him the greatest--had done. he was in armor, and his sword rested against the cheek of a window. his faithful attendants came in occasionally, and spoke to him in low tones; but for the most part he was alone. the view of the enemy was fair. he could see their intrenchment, and the tents and ruder quarters behind it. he could see the standards, many of them without meaning to him, the detachments on duty and watchful, the horsemen coming and going, and now and then a column in movement. he could hear the shouting, and he knew the meaning of it all--the final tempest was gathering. about four o'clock in the afternoon, phranza entered the room, and going to his master's right hand, was in the act of prostrating himself. "no, my lord," said the emperor, reaching out to stay him, and smiling pleasantly, "let us have done with ceremony. thou hast been true servant to me--i testify it, god hearing--and now i promote thee. be as my other self. speak to me standing. to-morrow is my end of days. in death no man is greater than another. tell me what thou bringest." on his knees, the grand chamberlain took the steel-gloved hand nearest him, and carried it to his lips. "your majesty, no servant had ever a more considerate and loving master." an oppressive silence followed. they were both thinking the same thought, and it was too sad for speech. "the duty your majesty charged me with this morning "--thus phranza upon recovery of his composure--"i attended to." "and you found it?" "even as your majesty had warning. the hegumens of the brotherhoods"-- "all of them, o phranza?" "all of them, your majesty--assembled in a cloister of the pantocrator." "gennadius again!" the emperor's hands closed, and there was an impatient twitching of his lips. "though why should i be astonished? hark, my friend! i will tell thee what i have as yet spoken to no man else. thou knowest kalil the vizier has been these many years my tributary, and that he hath done me many kindly acts, not always in his master's interest. the night of the day our christian ships beat the turks the grand vizier sent me an account of a stormy scene in mahommed's tent, and advised me to beware of gennadius. ah, i had fancied myself prepared to drink the cup heaven hath in store for me, lees and all, without a murmur, but men will be men until their second birth. it is nature! ... oh, my phranza, what thinkest thou the false monk is carrying under his hood?" "some egg of treason, i doubt not." "having driven his serenity, the pious and venerable gregory, into exile, he aspires to succeed him." "the hypocrite!--the impostor!--the perjured!--he, patriarch!" cried phranza, with upraised eyes. "and from whose hands thinkest thou he dreams of deriving the honor?" "not your majesty's." the emperor smiled faintly. "no--he regards mahommed the sultan a better patron, if not a better christian." "forbid it heaven!" and phranza crossed himself repeatedly. "nay, good friend, hear his scheme, then thou mayst call the forbidding powers with undeniable reason....he undertook--so kalil privily declared--if mahommed would invest him with the patriarchate, to deliver constantinople to him." "by what means? he has no gate in keeping--he is not even a soldier." "my poor phranza! hast thou yet to learn that perfidy is not a trait of any class? this gowned traitor hath a key to all the gates. hear him--i will ply the superstition of the greeks, and draw them from the walls with a prophecy." phranza was able to cry out: "oh! that so brave a prince, so good a master should be at the mercy of--of such a"-- "with all thy learning, i see thou lackest a word. let it pass, let it pass--i understand thee....but what further hast thou from the meeting?" phranza caught the hand again, and laid his forehead upon it while he replied: "to-night the brotherhoods are to go out, and renew the story of the angel, and the man at the foot of the column of constantine." the calmness of the emperor was wonderful. he gazed at the turks through the window, and, after reflection, said tranquilly: "i would have saved it--this old empire of our fathers; but my utmost now is to die for it--ay, as if i were blind to its unworthiness. god's will be done, not mine!" "talk not of dying--o beloved lord and master, talk not so! it is not too late for composition. give me your terms, and i will go with them to"-- "nay, friend, i have done better--i have made peace with myself.... i shall be no man's slave. there is nothing more for me--nothing except an honorable death. how sweet a grace it is that we can put so much glory in dying! a day of greek regeneration may come--then there may be some to do me honor--some to find worthy lessons in my life--perchance another emperor of byzantium to remember how the last of the palaeologae accepted the will of god revealed to him in treachery and treason.... but there is one at the door knocking as he were in haste. let him enter." an officer of the guard was admitted. "your majesty," he said, after salutation, "the captain justiniani, and the genoese, his friends, are preparing to abandon the gates." constantine seized his sword, and arose. "tell me about it," he said, simply. "justiniani has the new ditch at st. romain nearly completed, and wanting some cannon, he made request for them of the high admiral, who refused, saying, 'the foreign cowards must take care of themselves.'" "ride, sir, to the noble captain, and tell him i am at thy heels." "is the duke mad?" constantine continued, the messenger having departed. "what can he want? he is rich, and hath a family--boys verging on manhood, and of excellent promise. ah, my dear friend in need, what canst thou see of gain for him from mahommed?" "life, your majesty--life, and greater riches." "how? i did not suppose thou thoughtest so ill of men." "of some--of some--not all." then phranza raised his head, and asked, bitterly: "if five galleys won the harbor, every moslem sail opposing, why could not twelve or more do better? does not mahommed draw his supplies by sea?" the emperor looked out of the window again, but not at the turks. "lord phranza," he said, presently, "thou mayst survive to-morrow's calamity; if so, being as thou art skilful with the pen, write of me in thy day of leisure two things; first, i dared not break with duke notaras while mahommed was striving for my gates--he could and would have seized my throne--the church, the brotherhoods, and the people are with him--i am an _azymite._ say of me next that i have always held the decree of union proclaimed by the council of florence binding upon greek conscience, and had i lived, god helping me roll back this flood of islam, it should have been enforced.... hither--look hither, lord phranza"--he pointed out of the window--"and thou wilt see an argument of as many divisions as there are infidels beleaguering us why the church of christ should have one head; and as to whether the head should be patriarch or bishop, is it not enough that we are perishing for want of western swords?"--he would have fallen into silence again, but roused himself: "so much for the place i would have in the world's memory.... but to the present affair. reparation is due justiniani and his associates. do thou prepare a repast in the great dining hall. our resources are so reduced i may not speak of it as a banquet; but as thou lovest me do thy best with what we have. for my part, i will ride and summon every noble greek in arms for church and state, and the foreign captains. in such cheer, perhaps, we can heal the wounds inflicted by notaras. we can at least make ready to die with grace." he went out, and taking horse, rode at speed to the gate st. romain, and succeeded in soothing the offended genoese. at ten o'clock the banquet was held. the chroniclers say of it that there were speeches, embraces, and a fresh resolution to fight, and endure the worst or conquer. and they chose a battle-cry--_christ and holy church._ at separating, the emperor, with infinite tenderness, but never more knightly, prayed forgiveness of any he might have wronged or affronted; and the guests came one by one to bid him adieu, and he commended them to god, and the gratitude of christians in the ages to come, and his hands were drenched with their tears. from the very high residence he visited the gates, and was partially successful in arresting the desertions actually in progress. finally, all other duties done, his mind turning once more to god, he rode to sancta sophia, heard mass, partook of the communion, and received absolution according to latin rite; after which the morrow could hold no surprise for him. and he found comfort repeating his own word: how sweet a grace it is that we can put so much glory in dying. chapter xi count corti in dilemma from the repast at blacherne--festive it was in no sense--count corti escorted the emperor to the door of sancta sophia; whence, by permission, and taking with him his nine berbers, he rode slowly to the residence of the princess irene. slowly, we say, for nowhere in the pent area of byzantium was there a soul more oppressed. if he looked up, it was to fancy all the fortunate planets seated in their houses helping mahommed's star to a fullest flood of splendor; if he looked down, it was to see the wager--and his soul cried out, lost! lost! though one be rich, or great, or superior in his calling, wherein is the profit of it if he have lost his love? besides the anguish of a perception of his rival's better fortune, the count was bowed by the necessity of deciding certain consequences unforeseen at the time the wager was made. the place of the surrender of the princess was fixed. thinking forward now, he could anticipate the scene in the great church--the pack of fugitives, their terror and despair, the hordes raging amongst them. how was he single-handed to save her unharmed in the scramble of the hour? thoughts of her youth, beauty, and rank, theretofore inspirations out of heaven, set him to shivering with an ague more like fear than any he had ever known. nor was this all. the surrender was by the terms to be to mahommed himself. the sultan was to demand her of him. he groaned aloud: "oh, dear god and holy mother, be merciful, and let me die!" for the first time it was given him to see, not alone that he might lose the woman to his soul all the sun is to the world, but her respect as well. by what management was he to make the surrender without exposing the understanding between the conqueror and himself? she would be present--she would see what took place--she would hear what was said. and she would not be frightened. the image of the madonna above the altar in the nave would not be more calm. the vaguest suspicion of a compact, and she the subject, would put her upon inquiry; then--"oh, fool--idiot--insensate as my sword-grip!" thus, between groans, he scourged himself. it was late, but her home was now a hospital filled with wounded men, and she its sleepless angel. old lysander admitted him. "the princess irene is in the chapel." thus directed, the count went thither well knowing the way. a soldier just dead was the theme of a solemn recital by sergius. the room was crowded with women in the deepest excitement of fear. corti understood the cause. poor creatures! they had need of religious comfort. a thousand ghosts in one view could not have overcome them as did the approach of the morrow. at the right of the altar, he discovered the princess in the midst of her attendants, who kept close to her, like young birds to the mother in alarm. she was quiet and self-contained. apparently she alone heard the words of the reader; and whereas the count came in a penitent--doubtful--in a maze--unknowing what to do or where to turn, one glance at her face restored him. he resolved to tell her his history, omitting only the character in which he entered her kinsman's service, and the odious compact with mahommed. her consent to accompany him to sancta sophia must be obtained; for that he was come. his presence in the chapel awakened a suppressed excitement, and directly the princess came to him. "what has happened, count corti? why are you here?" "to speak with you, o princess irene' "go with me, then." she conducted him into a passage, and closed the door behind them. "the floor of my reception room is overlaid with the sick and suffering--my whole house is given up to them. speak here; and if the news be bad, dear count, it were mercy not to permit the unfortunates to hear you." she was not thinking of herself. he took the hand extended to him, and kissed it--to him it was the hand of more than the most beautiful woman in the world--it was the hand of a saint in white transfigurement. "thy imperial kinsman, o princess, is at the church partaking of the holy communion, and receiving absolution." "at this hour? why is he there, count?" corti told her of the repast at the palace, and recounted the scene at parting. "it looks like despair. can it be the emperor is making ready to die? answer, and fear not for me. my life has been a long preparation. he believes the defence is lost--the captains believe so--and thou?" "o princess, it is terrible saying, but i too expect the judgment of god in the morning." the hall was so dimly lighted he could not see her face; but the nerve of sympathy is fine--he felt she trembled. only a moment--scarcely longer than taking a breath--then she answered: "judgment is for us all. it will find me here." she moved as if to return to the chapel; but he stepped before her, and drawing out a chair standing by the door, said, firmly, yet tenderly: "you are weary. the labor of helping the unfortunate these many days--the watching and anxiety--have been trying upon you. sit, i pray, and hear me." she yielded with a sigh. "the judgment which would find you here, o princes, would not be death, but something more terrible, so terrible words burn in thinking of it. i have sworn to defend you: and the oath, and the will to keep it, give me the right to determine where and how the defence shall be made. if there are advantages, i want them, for your sweet sake." he stopped to master his feeling. "you have never stood on the deck of a ship in wreck, and seen the sea rush in to overwhelm it," he went on presently: "i have; and i declare to you, o beloved lady, nothing can be so like to-morrow when the hordes break into the city, as that triumph of waters; and as on the deck there was no place of safety for the perishing crew, neither will there be place of safety for man, woman, or child in byzantium then--least of all for the kinswoman of the emperor--for her--permit me to say it--whose loveliness and virtue are themes for story-tellers throughout the east. as a prize--whether for ransom or dishonor--richer than the churches and the palaces, and their belongings, be they jewels or gold, or anointed crown, or bone of saint, or splinter of the true cross, or shred from the shirt of christ--to him who loves her, a prize of such excellence that glory, even the glory mahommed is now dreaming of when he shall have wrenched the keys of the gates from their rightful owner dead in the bloody breach, would pale if set beside it for comparison, and sink out of sight--think you she will not be hunted? or that the painted mother above the altar, though it spoke through a miraculous halo, could save her when found? no, no, princess, not here, not here!... you know i love you; in an unreasoning moment i dared tell you so; and you may think me passion-blind, and that i hung the vow to defend you upon my soul's neck, thinking it light as this favor you were pleased to give me; that love being a braggart, therefore i am a braggart. let me set myself right in your opinion--your good opinion, o princess, for it is to me a world of such fair shining i dream of it as of a garden in paradise.... if you do not know how hardly i have striven in this war, send, i pray, and ask any of the captains, or the most christian sovereign i have just left making his peace with god. some of them called me mad, but i pardoned them--they did not know the meaning of my battle-cry--'for christ and irene'--that i was venturing life less for constantinople, less for religion--i almost said, less for christ--than for you, who are all things in one to me, the fairest on earth, the best in heaven.... at last, at last i am driven to admit we may fail--that to-morrow, whether i am here or there, at your side or under the trampling, you may be a prisoner at mercy." at these words, of infinite anguish in utterance, the princess shuddered, and looked up in silent appeal. "attend me now. you have courage above the courage of women; therefore i may speak with plainness.... what will become of you--i give the conclusion of many wrangles with myself--what will become of you depends upon the hands which happen to be laid on you first. o princess, are you giving me heed? do you comprehend me?" "the words concern me more than life, count." "i may go on then.... i have hope of saving your life and honor. you have but to do what i advise. if you cannot trust me, further speech were idleness, and i might as well take leave of you. death in many forms will be abroad to-morrow--nothing so easily found." "count corti," she returned, "if i hesitate pledging myself, it is not because of distrust. i will hear you." "it is well said, dear lady." he stopped--a pleasant warmth was in his heart--a perception, like dim light, began breaking through the obscurities in his mind. to this moment, in fact, he had trouble gaining his own consent to the proposal on his tongue; it seemed so like treachery to the noble woman--so like a cunning inveiglement to deliver her to mahommed under the hated compact. now suddenly the proposal assumed another appearance--it was the best course--the best had there been no wager, no compact, no obligation but knightly duty to her. as he proceeded, this conviction grew clearer, bringing him ease of conscience and the subtle influence of a master arguing right. he told her his history then, holding nothing back but the two points mentioned. twice only she interrupted him. "your mother, count corti--poor lady--how she has suffered! but what happiness there is in store for her!" and again: "how wonderful the escape from the falsehoods of the prophet! there is no love like christ's love unless--unless it be a mother's." at the conclusion, her chin rested in the soft palm of her hand, and the hand, unjewelled, was white as marble just carven, and, like the arm, a wonder of grace. of what was she thinking?--of him? had he at last made an impression upon her? what trifles serve the hope of lovers! at length she asked: "then, o count, thou wert his playmate in childhood?" a bitter pang struck him--that pensiveness was for mahommed--yet he answered: "i was nearest him until he took up his father's sword." "is he the monster they call him?" "to his enemies, yes--and to all in the road to his desires, yes--but to his friends there was never such a friend." "has he heart to"-- the omission, rather than the question, hurt him--still he returned: "yes, once he really loves." then she appeared to awake. "to the narrative now--forgive my wandering." the opportunity to return was a relief to him, and he hastened to improve it. "i thank you for grace, o princess, and am reminded of the pressure of time. i must to the gate again with the emperor.... this is my proposal. instead of biding here to be taken by some rapacious hordesman, go with me to sancta sophia, and when the sultan comes thither--as he certainly will--deliver yourself to him. if, before his arrival, the plunderers force the doors of the holy house, i will stand with you, not, princess, as count corti the italian, but mirza the emir and janissary, appointed by the sultan to guard you. my berbers will help the assumption." he had spoken clearly, yet she hesitated. "ah," he said, "you doubt mahommed. he will be upon honor. the glory-winners, princess, are those always most in awe of the judgment of the world." yet she sat silent. "or is it i who am in your doubt?" "no, count. but my household--my attendants--the poor creatures are trembling now--some of them, i was about saying, are of the noblest families in byzantium, daughters of senators and lords of the court. i cannot desert them--no, count corti, not to save myself. the baseness would be on my soul forever. they must share my fortune, or i their fate." still she was thinking of others! more as a worshipper than lover, the count replied: "i will include them in my attempt to save you. surely heaven will help me, for your sake, o princess." "and i can plead for them with him. count corti, i will go with you." the animation with which she spoke faded in an instant. "but thou--o my friend, if thou shouldst fall?" "nay, let us be confident. if heaven does not intend your escape, it would be merciful, o beloved lady, did it place me where no report of your mischance and sorrows can reach me. looking at the darkest side, should i not come for you, go nevertheless to the church. doubt not hearing of the entry of the turks. seek mahommed, if possible, and demand his protection. tell him, i, mirza the emir, counselled you. on the other side, be ready to accompany me. make preparation to-night--have a chair at hand, and your household assembled--for when i come, time will be scant.... and now, god be with you! i will not say be brave--be trustful." she extended her hand, and he knelt, and kissed it. "i will pray for you, count corti." "heaven will hear you." he went out, and rejoining the emperor, rode with him from the church to blacherne. chapter xii the assault the bonfires of the hordes were extinguished about the time the christian company said their farewells after the last supper in the very high residence, and the hordes themselves appeared to be at rest, leaving night to reset her stars serenely bright over the city, the sea, and the campania. to the everlasting honor of that company, be it now said, they could under cover of the darkness have betaken themselves to the ships and escaped; yet they went to their several posts. having laid their heads upon the breast of the fated emperor, and pledged him their lives, there is no account of one in craven refuge at the break of day. the emperor's devotion seems to have been a communicable flame. this is the more remarkable when it is remembered that in the beginning the walls were relied upon to offset the superiority of the enemy in numbers, while now each knight and man-at-arms knew the vanity of that reliance--knew himself, in other words, one of scant five thousand men--to such diminished roll had the besieged been reduced by wounds, death and desertion--who were to muster on the ruins of the outer wall, or in the breaches of the inner, and strive against two hundred and fifty thousand goaded by influences justly considered the most powerful over ferocious natures--religious fanaticism and the assurance of booty without limit. the silence into which the turkish host was sunk did not continue a great while. the greeks on the landward walls became aware of a general murmur, followed shortly by a rumble at times vibrant--so the earth complains of the beating it receives from vast bodies of men and animals in hurried passage. "the enemy is forming," said john grant to his associate carystos, the archer. minotle, the venetian bayle, listening from the shattered gate of adrianople, gave order: "arouse the men. the turks are coming." justiniani, putting the finishing touches upon his masked repairs behind what had been the alley or passage between the towers bagdad and st. romain, was called to by his lookout: "come up, captain--the infidels are stirring--they seem disposed to attack." "no," the captain returned, after a brief observation, "they will not attack to-night--they are getting ready." none the less, without relieving his working parties, he placed his command in station. at selimbria and the golden gate the christians stood to arms. so also between the gates. then a deep hush descended upon the mighty works--mighty despite the slugging they had endured--and the silence was loaded with anxiety. for such of my readers as have held a night-watch expectant of battle at disadvantage in the morning it will be easy putting themselves in the place of these warders at bay; they can think their thoughts, and hear the heavy beating of their hearts; they will remember how long the hours were, and how the monotony of the waiting gnawed at their spirits until they prayed for action, action. on the other hand, those without the experience will wonder how men can bear up bravely in such conditions--and that is a wonder. in furtherance of his plan, mahommed drew in his irregulars, and massed them in the space between the intrenchment and the ditch; and by bringing his machines and small guns nearer the walls, he menaced the whole front of defence with a line amply provided with scaling ladders and mantelets. behind the line he stationed bodies of horsemen to arrest fugitives, and turn them back to the fight. his reserves occupied the intrenchments. the janissaries were retained at his quarters opposite st. romain. the hordes were clever enough to see what the arrangement portended for them, and they at first complained. "what, grumble, do they?" mahommed answered. "ride, and tell them i say the first choice in the capture belongs to the first over the walls. theirs the fault if the city be not an empty nest to all who come after them." the earth in its forward movement overtook the moon just before daybreak; then in the deep hush of expectancy and readiness, the light being sufficient to reveal to the besieged the assault couchant below them, a long-blown flourish was sounded by the turkish heralds from the embrasure of the great gun. other trumpeters took up the signal, and in a space incredibly short it was repeated everywhere along the line of attack. a thunder of drums broke in upon the music. up rose the hordes, the archers and slingers, and the ladder bearers, and forward, like a bristling wave, they rushed, shouting every man as he pleased. in the same instant the machines and light guns were set in operation. never had the old walls been assailed by such a tempest of bolts, arrows, stones and bullets--never had their echoes been awakened by an equal explosion of human voices, instruments of martial music, and cannon. the warders were not surprised by the assault so much as by its din and fury; and when directly the missiles struck them, thickening into an uninterrupted pouring rain, they cowered behind the merlons, and such other shelters as they could find. this did not last long--it was like the shiver and gasp of one plunged suddenly into icy water. the fugitives were rallied, and brought back to their weapons, and to replying in kind; and having no longer to shoot with care, the rabble fusing into a compact target, especially on the outer edge of the ditch, not a shaft, or bolt, or stone, or ball from culverin went amiss. afterwhile, their blood warming with the work, and the dawn breaking, they could see their advantage of position, and the awful havoc they were playing; then they too knew the delight in killing which more than anything else proves man the most ferocious of brutes. the movement of the hordes was not a dash wholly without system--such an inference would be a great mistake. there was no pretence of alignment or order--there never is in such attacks--forlorn hopes, receiving the signal, rush on, each individual to his own endeavor; here, nevertheless, the pachas and beys directed the assault, permitting no blind waste of effort. they hurled their mobs at none but the weak places--here a breach, there a dismantled gate. thousands were pushed headlong into the moat. the ladders then passed down to such of them as had footing were heavy, but they were caught willingly; if too short, were spliced; once planted so as to bring the coping of the wall in reach, they swarmed with eager adventurers, who, holding their shields and pikes overhead, climbed as best they could. those below cheered their comrades above, and even pushed them up. "the spoils--think of the spoils--the gold, the women!... _allah-il-allah!_... up, up--it is the way to paradise!" darts and javelins literally cast the climbers in a thickened shade. sometimes a ponderous stone plunging down cleaned a ladder from top to bottom; sometimes, waiting until the rounds were filled, the besieged applied levers, and swung a score and more off helpless and shrieking. no matter--_allah-il-allah!_ the living were swift to restore and attempt the fatal ascents. every one dead and every one wounded became a serviceable clod; rapidly as the dump and cumber of humanity filled the moat the ladders extended their upward reach; while drum-beat, battle-cry, trumpet's blare, and the roar of cannon answering cannon blent into one steady all-smothering sound. in the stretches of space between gates, where the walls and towers were intact, the strife of the archers and slingers was to keep the greeks occupied, lest they should reenforce the defenders hard pressed elsewhere. during the night the blockading vessels had been warped close into the shore, and, the wall of the seafront being lower than those on the land side, the crews, by means of platforms erected on the decks, engaged the besieged from a better level. there also, though attempts at escalade were frequent, the object was chiefly to hold the garrison in place. in the harbor, particularly at the wood gate, already mentioned as battered out of semblance to itself by the large gun on the floating battery, the turks exerted themselves to effect a landing; but the christian fleet interposed, and there was a naval battle of varying fortune. so, speaking generally, the city was wrapped in assault; and when the sun at last rode up into the clear sky above the asiatic heights, streets, houses, palaces, churches--the hills, in fact, from the sea to the tower of isaac--were shrouded in ominous vapor, through which such of the people as dared go abroad flitted pale and trembling; or if they spoke to each other, it was to ask in husky voices, what have you from the gates? passing now to the leading actors in this terrible tragedy. mahommed retired to his couch early the night previous. he knew his orders were in course of execution by chiefs who, on their part, knew the consequences of failure. the example made of the admiral in command of the fleet the day the five relieving christian galleys won the port was fresh in memory. [footnote: he was stretched on the ground and whipped like a common malefactor.] "to-morrow, to-morrow," he kept repeating, while his pages took off his armor, and laid the pieces aside. "to-morrow, to-morrow," lingered in his thoughts, when, his limbs stretched out comfortably on the broad bronze cot which served him for couch, sleep crept in as to a tired child, and laid its finger of forgetfulness upon his eyelids. the repetition was as when we run through the verse of a cheerful song, thinking it out silently, and then recite the chorus aloud. once he awoke, and, sitting up, listened. the mighty host which had its life by his permission was quiet--even the horses in their apartment seemed mindful that the hour was sacred to their master. falling to sleep again, he muttered: "to-morrow, to-morrow--irene and glory. i have the promise of the stars." to mahommed the morrow was obviously but a holiday which was bringing him the kingly part in a joyous game--a holiday too slow in coming. about the third hour after midnight he was again awakened. a man stood by his cot imperfectly shading the light of a lamp with his hand. "prince of india!" exclaimed mahommed, rising to a sitting posture. "it is i, my lord." "what time is it?" the prince gave him the hour. "is it so near the break of day?" mahommed yawned. "tell me"--he fixed his eyes darkly on the visitor--"tell me first why thou art here?" "i will, my lord, and truly. i wished to see if you could sleep. a common soul could not. it is well the world has no premonitory sense." "why so?" "my lord has all the qualities of a conqueror." mahommed was pleased. "yes, i will make a great day of to-morrow. but, prince of india, what shadows are disturbing thee? why art thou not asleep?" "i too have a part in the day, my lord." "what part?" "i will fight, and"-- mahommed interrupted him with a laugh. "thou!" and he looked the stooped figure over from head to foot. "my lord has two hands--i have four--i will show them." returning to his apartment, the prince reappeared with nilo. "behold, my lord!" the black was in the martial attire of a king of kash-cush--feathered coronet, robe of blue and red hanging from shoulder to heel, body under the robe naked to the waist, assegai in the oft-wrapped white sash, skirt to the knees glittering with crescents and buttons of silver, sandals beaded with pearls. on his left arm depended a shield rimmed and embossed with brass; in his right hand he bore a club knotted, and of weight to fell a bull at a blow. without the slightest abashment, but rather as a superior, the king looked down at the young sultan. "i see--i understand--i welcome the four hands of the prince of india," mahommed said, vivaciously; then, giving a few moments of admiration to the negro, he turned, and asked: "prince, i have a motive for to-morrow--nay, by the cool waters of paradise, i have many motives. tell me thine. in thy speech and action i have observed a hate for these greeks deep as the shintan's for god. why? what have they done to thee?" "they are christians," the jew returned, sullenly. "that is good, prince, very good--even the prophet judged it a justification for cleaning the earth of the detestable sect--yet it is not enough. i am not old as thou"--mahommed lost the curious gleam which shone in the visitor's eyes--"i am not old as thou art; still i know hate like thine must be from a private grievance." "my lord is right. to-morrow i will leave the herd to the herd. in the currents of the fight i will hunt but one enemy--constantine. judge thou my cause." then he told of lael--of his love for her--of her abduction by demedes--his supplication for the emperor's assistance--the refusal. "she was the child of my soul," he continued, passionately. "my interest in life was going out; she reinspired it. she was the promise of a future for me, as the morning star is of a gladsome day. i dreamed dreams of her, and upon her love builded hopes, like shining castles on high hills. yet it was not enough that the greek refused me his power to discover and restore her. she is now in restraint, and set apart to become the wife of a christian--a christian priest--may the fiends juggle for his ghost!--to-morrow i will punish the tyrant--i will give him a dog's death, and then seek her. oh! i will find her--i will find her--and by the light there is in love, i will show him what all of hell there can be in one man's hate!" for once the cunning of the prince overreached itself. in the rush of passion he forgot the exquisite sensory gifts of the potentate with whom he was dealing; and mahommed, observant even while shrinking from the malignant fire in the large eyes, discerned incoherencies in the tale, and that it was but half told; and while he was resolving to push his messenger of the stars to a full confession, a distant rumble invaded the tent, accompanied by a trample of feet outside. "it is here, prince of india--the day of destiny. let us get ready, thou for thy revenge, i for glory and"--irene was on his tongue, but he suppressed the name. "call my chamberlain and equerry.... on the table there thou mayst see my arms--a mace my ancestor ilderim [footnote: bajazet.] bore at nicopolis, and thy sword of solomon.... god is great, and the jinn and the stars on my side, what have we to fear?" within half an hour he rode out of the tent. "blows the wind to the city or from it?" he asked his chief aga of janissaries. "toward the city, my lord." "exalted be the name of the prophet! set the flower of the faithful in order--a column of front wide as the breach in the gate--and bring the heralds. i shall be by the great gun." pushing his horse on the parapet, he beheld the space before him, down quite to the moat--every trace of the cemetery had disappeared--dark with hordes assembled and awaiting the signal. satisfied, happy, he looked then toward the east. none better than he knew the stars appointed to go before the sun--their names were familiar to him--now they were his friends. at last a violet corona infinitely soft glimmered along the hill tops beyond scutari. "stand out now," he cried to the five in their tabards of gold--"stand out now, and as ye hope couches in paradise, blow--blow the stones out of their beds yonder--god was never so great!" then ensued the general advance which has been described, except that here, in front of st. romain, there was no covering the assailants with slingers and archers. the fill in the ditch was nearly level with the outer bank, from which it may be described as an ascending causeway. this advantage encouraged the idea of pouring the hordesmen _en masse_ over the hill composed of the ruins of what had been the towers of the gate. there was an impulsive dash under incitement of a mighty drumming and trumpeting--a race, every man of the thousands engaged in it making for the causeway--a jam--a mob paralyzed by its numbers. they trampled on each other--they fought, and in the rebound were pitched in heaps down the perpendicular revetment on the right and left of the fill. of those thus unfortunate the most remained where they fell, alive, perhaps, but none the less an increasing dump of pikes, shields, and crushed bodies; and in the roar above them, cries for help, groans, and prayers were alike unheard and unnoticed. all this justiniani had foreseen. behind loose stones on top of the hill, he had collected culverins, making, in modern phrase, a masked battery, and trained the pieces to sweep the causeway; with them, as a support, he mixed archers and pikemen. on either flank, moreover, he stationed companies similarly armed, extending them to the unbroken wall, so there was not a space in the breach undefended. the captain, on watch and expectant, heard the signal. "to the emperor at blacherne," he bade; "and say the storm is about to break. make haste." then to his men: "light the matches, and be ready to throw the stones down." the hordesmen reached the edge of the ditch; that moment the guns were unmasked, and the genoese leader shouted: "fire, my men!--_christ and holy church!_" then from the christian works it was bullet, bolt, stone, and shaft, making light of flimsy shield and surcoat of hide; still the hordesmen pushed on, a river breasting an obstruction. now they were on the causeway. useless facing about--behind them an advancing wall--on both sides the ditch. useless lying down--that was to be smothered in bloody mire. forward, forward, or die. what though the causeway was packed with dead and wounded?--though there was no foothold not slippery?--though the smell of hot blood filled every nostril?--though hands thrice strengthened by despair grappled the feet making stepping blocks of face and breast? the living pressed on leaping, stumbling, staggering; their howl, "gold--spoils--women--slaves," answered from the smoking hill, "_christ and holy church._" and now, the causeway crossed, the leading assailants gain the foot of the rough ascent. no time to catch breath--none to look for advantage--none to profit by a glance at the preparation to receive them--up they must go, and up they went. arrows and javelins pierce them; stones crush them; the culverins spout fire in their faces, and, lifting them off their uncertain footing, hurl them bodily back upon the heads and shields of their comrades. along the brow of the rocky hill a mound of bodies arises wondrous quick, an obstacle to the warders of the pass who would shoot, and to the hordesmen a barrier. slowly the corona on the scutarian hills deepened into dawn. the emperor joined justiniani. count corti came with him. there was an affectionate greeting. "your majesty, the day is scarcely full born, yet see how islam is rueing it." constantine, following justiniani's pointing, peered once through the smoke; then the necessity of the moment caught him, and, taking post between guns, he plied his long lance upon the wretches climbing the rising mound, some without shields, some weaponless, most of them incapable of combat. with the brightening of day the mound grew in height and width, until at length the christians sallied out upon it to meet the enemy still pouring on. an hour thus. suddenly, seized with a comprehension of the futility of their effort, the hordesmen turned, and rushed from the hill and the causeway. the christians suffered but few casualties; yet they would have gladly rested. then, from the wall above the breach, whence he had used his bow, count corti descended hastily. "your majesty," he said, his countenance kindled with enthusiasm, "the janissaries are making ready." justiniani was prompt. "come!" he shouted. "come every one! we must have clear range for the guns. down with these dead! down with the living. no time for pity!" setting the example, presently the defenders were tossing the bodies of their enemies down the face of the hill. on his horse, by the great gun, mahommed had observed the assault, listening while the night yet lingered. occasionally a courier rode to him with news from this pacha or that one. he heard without excitement, and returned invariably the same reply: "tell him to pour the hordes in." at last an officer came at speed. "oh, my lord, i salute you. the city is won." it was clear day then, yet a light not of the morning sparkled in mahommed's eyes. stooping in his saddle, he asked: "what sayest thou? tell me of it, but beware--if thou speakest falsely, neither god nor prophet shall save thee from impalement to the roots of thy tongue." "as i have to tell my lord what i saw with my own eyes, i am not afraid.... my lord knows that where the palace of blacherne begins on the south there is an angle in the wall. there, while our people were feigning an assault to amuse the greeks, they came upon a sunken gate"-- "the cercoporta--i have heard of it." "my lord has the name. trying it, they found it unfastened and unguarded, and, pushing through a darkened passage, discovered they were in the palace. mounting to the upper floor, they attacked the unbelievers. the fighting goes on. from room to room the christians resist. they are now cut off, and in a little time the quarter will be in our possession." mahommed spoke to kalil: "take this man, and keep him safely. if he has spoken truly, great shall be his reward; if falsely, better he were not his mother's son." then to one of his household: "come hither.... go to the sunken gate cercoporta, pass in, and find the chief now fighting in the palace of blacherne. tell him i, mahommed, require that he leave the palace to such as may follow him, and march and attack the defenders of this gate, st. romain, in the rear. he shall not stop to plunder. i give him one hour in which to do my bidding. ride thou now as if a falcon led thee. for allah and life!" next he called his aga of janissaries. "have the hordes before this gate retired. they have served their turn; they have made the ditch passable, and the _gabours_ are faint with killing them. observe, and when the road is cleared let go with the flower of the faithful. a province to the first through; and this the battle-cry: _allah-il-allah!_ they will fight under my eye. minutes are worth kingdoms. go thou, and let go." always in reserve, always the last resort in doubtful battle, always the arm with which the sultans struck the finishing blow, the janissaries thus summoned to take up the assault were in discipline, spirit, and splendor of appearance the _elite_ corps of the martial world. riding to the front, the aga halted to communicate mahommed's orders. down the columns the speech was passed. the flower of the faithful were in three divisions dismounted. throwing off their clumsy gowns, they stood forth in glittering mail, and shaking their brassy shields in air, shouted the old salute: "_live the padishah! live the padishah!_" the road to the gate was cleared; then the aga galloped back, and when abreast of the yellow flag of the first division, he cried: "_allah-il-allah!_ forward!" and drum and trumpet breaking forth, a division moved down in column of fifties. slowly at first, but solidly, and with a vast stateliness it moved. so at pharsalia marched the legion caesar loved--so in decision of heady fights strode the old guard of the world's last conqueror. approaching the ditch, the fresh assailants set up the appointed battle-cry, and quickening the step to double time rushed over the terrible causeway. mahommed then descended to the ditch, and remained there mounted, the sword of solomon in his hand, the mace of ilderim at his saddle bow; and though hearing him was impossible, the faithful took fire from his fire--enough that they were under his eye. the feat attempted by the hordes was then repeated, except now there was order in disorder. the machine, though shaken and disarranged, kept working on, working up. somehow its weight endured. slowly, with all its drench and cumber, the hill was surmounted. again a mound arose in front of the battery--again the sally, and the deadly ply of pikes from the top of the mound. the emperor's lance splintered; he fought with a pole-axe; still even he became sensible of a whelming pressure. in the gorge, the smoke, loaded with lime-dust, dragged rather than lifted; no man saw down it to the causeway; yet the ascending din and clamor, possessed of the smiting power of a gust of wind, told of an endless array coming. there was not time to take account of time; but at last a turkish shield appeared over the ghastly rampart, glimmering as the moon glimmers through thick vapor. thrusts in scores were made at it, yet it arose; then a janissary sprang up on the heap, singing like a muezzin, and shearing off the heads of pikes as reapers shear green rye. he was a giant in stature and strength. both genoese and greeks were disposed to give him way. the emperor rallied them. still the turk held his footing, and other turks were climbing to his support. now it looked as if the crisis were come, now as if the breach were lost. in the last second a cry _for christ and irene_ rang through the melee, and count corti, leaping from a gun, confronted the turk. "ho, son of ouloubad! hassan, hassan!" [footnote: one of the janissaries, hassan d'ouloubad, of gigantic stature and prodigious strength, mounted to the assault under cover of his shield, his cimeter in the right hand. he reached the rampart with thirty of his companions. nineteen of them were cast down, and hassan himself fell struck by a stone.--von hammer.] he shouted, in the familiar tongue. "who calls me?" the giant asked, lowering his shield, and gazing about in surprise. "i call you--i, mirza the emir. thy time has come. _christ and irene. now!_" with the word the count struck the janissary fairly on the flat cap with his axe, bringing him to his knees. almost simultaneously a heavy stone descended upon the dazed man from a higher part of the wall, and he rolled backward down the steep. constantine and justiniani, with others, joined the count, but too late. of the fifty comrades composing hassan's file, thirty mounted the rampart. eighteen of them were slain in the bout. corti raged like a lion; but up rushed the survivors of the next file--and the next--and the vantage-point was lost. the genoese, seeing it, said: "your majesty, let us retire." "is it time?" "we must get a ditch between us and this new horde, or we are all dead men." then the emperor shouted: "back, every one! for love of christ and holy church, back to the galley!" the guns, machines, store of missiles, and space occupied by the battery were at once abandoned. constantine and corti went last, facing the foe, who warily paused to see what they had next to encounter. the secondary defence to which the greeks resorted consisted of the hulk brought up, as we have seen, by count corti, planted on its keel squarely in rear of the breach, and filled with stones. from the hulk, on right and left, wings of uncemented masonry extended to the main wall in form thus: [illustration] a ditch fronted the line fifteen feet in width and twelve in depth, provided with movable planks for hasty passage. culverins were on the hulk, with ammunition in store. greatly to the relief of the jaded christians, who, it is easy believing, stood not on the order of going, they beheld the reserves, under demetrius palaeologus and nicholas giudalli, in readiness behind the refuge. the emperor, on the deck, raised the visor of his helmet, and looked up at an imperial flag drooping in the stagnant air from a stump of the mast. whatever his thought or feeling, no one could discern on his countenance an unbecoming expression. the fact, of which he must have been aware, that this stand taken ended his empire forever, had not shaken his resolution or confidence. to demetrius palaeologus, who had lent a hand helping him up the galley's side, he said: "thank you, kinsman. god may still be trusted. open fire." the janissaries, astonished at the new and strange defence, would have retreated, but could not; the files ascending behind drove them forward. at the edge of the ditch the foremost of them made a despairing effort to resist the pressure rushing them to their fate--down they went in mass, in their last service no better than the hordesmen--clods they became--clods in bright harness instead of bull-hide and shaggy astrakhan. from the wings, bolts and stones; from the height of the wall, bolts and stones; from the hulk, grapeshot; and the rattle upon the shields of the faithful was as the passing of empty chariots over a pompeiian street. imprecations, prayers, yells, groans, shrieks, had lodgement only in the ear of the most merciful. the open maw of a ravenous monster swallowing the column fast as mahommed down by the great moat drove it on--such was the new ditch. yet another, the final horror. when the ditch was partially filled, the christians brought jugs of the inflammable liquid contributed to the defence by john grant; and cast them down on the writhing heap. straightway the trench became a pocket of flame, or rather an oven from which the smell of roasting human flesh issued along with a choking cloud! the besieged were exultant, as they well might be--they were more than holding the redoubtable flower of the faithful at bay--there was even a merry tone in their battle-cry. about that time a man dismounted from a foaming horse, climbed the rough steps to the deck of the galley, and delivered a message to the emperor. "your majesty. john grant, minotle the bayle, carystos, langasco, and jerome the italian are slain. blacherne is in possession of the turks, and they are marching this way. the hordes are in the streets. i saw them, and heard the bursting of doors, and the screams of women." constantine crossed himself three times, and bowed his head. justiniani turned the color of ashes, and exclaimed: "we are undone--undone! all is lost!" and that his voice was hoarse did not prevent the words being overheard. the fire slackened--ceased. men fighting jubilantly dropped their arms, and took up the cry--"all is lost! the hordes are in, the hordes are in!" doubtless count corti's thought sped to the fair woman waiting for him in the chapel, yet he kept clear head. "your majesty," he said, "my berbers are without. i will take them, and hold the turks in check while you draw assistance from the walls. or"--he hesitated, "or i will defend your person to the ships. it is not too late." indeed, there was ample time for the emperor's escape. the berbers were keeping his horse with corti's. he had but to mount, and ride away. no doubt he was tempted. there is always some sweetness in life, especially to the blameless. he raised his head, and said to justiniani: "captain, my guard will remain here. to keep the galley they have only to keep the fire alive in the ditch. you and i will go out to meet the enemy." ... then he addressed himself to corti: "to horse, count, and bring theophilus palaeologus. he is on the wall between this gate and the gate selimbria.... ho, christian gentlemen," he continued, to the soldiers closing around him, "all is not lost. the bochiardi at the adrianople gate have not been heard from. to fly from an unseen foe were shameful, we are still hundreds strong. let us descend, and form. god cannot"-- that instant justiniani uttered a loud cry, and dropped the axe he was holding. an arrow had pierced the scales of his gauntlet, and disabled his hand. the pain, doubtless, was great, and he started hastily as if to descend from the deck. constantine called out: "captain, captain!" "give me leave, your majesty, to go and have this wound dressed." "where, captain?" "to my ship." the emperor threw his visor up--his face was flushed--in his soul indignation contended with astonishment. "no, captain, the wound cannot be serious; and besides, how canst thou get to thy ships?" justiniani looked over the bulwark of the vessel. the alley from the gate ran on between houses abutting the towers. a ball from one of mahommed's largest guns had passed through the right-hand building, leaving a ragged fissure. thither the captain now pointed. "god opened that breach to let the turks in. i will go out by it." he stayed no longer, but went down the steps, and in haste little short of a run disappeared through the fissure so like a breach. the desertion was in view of his genoese, of whom a few followed him, but not all. many who had been serving the guns took swords and pikes, and gathering about the emperor, cried out: "give orders, your majesty. we will bide with you." he returned them a look full of gratitude. "i thank you, gentlemen. let us go down, and join our shields across the street. to my guard i commit defence of the galley." unfastening the purple half-cloak at his back, and taking off his helmet, he called to his sword-bearer: "here, take thou these, and give me my sword.... now, gallant gentlemen--now, my brave countrymen--we will put ourselves in the keeping of heaven. come!" they had not all gained the ground, however, when there arose a clamor in their front, and the hordesmen appeared, and blocking up the passage, opened upon them with arrows and stones, while such as had javelins and swords attacked them hand to hand. the christians behaved well, but none better than constantine. he fought with strength, and in good countenance; his blade quickly reddened to the hilt. "strike, my countrymen, for city and home. strike, every one, for _christ and holy church!_" and answering him: "_christ and holy church!_" they all fought as they had strength, and their swords were also reddened to the hilt. quarter was not asked; neither was it given. theirs to hold the ground, and they held it. they laid the hordesmen out over it in scattered heaps which grew, and presently became one long heap the width of the alley; and they too fell, but, as we are willing to believe, unconscious of pain because lapped in the delirium of battle-fever. five minutes--ten--fifteen--then through the breach by which justiniani ingloriously fled theophilus palaeologus came with bared brand to vindicate his imperial blood by nobly dying; and with him came count corti, francesco de toledo, john the dalmatian, and a score and more christian gentlemen who well knew the difference between an honorable death and a dishonored life. steadily the sun arose. half the street was in its light, the other half in its shade; yet the struggle endured; nor could any man have said god was not with the christians. suddenly a louder shouting arose behind them. they who could, looked to see what it meant, and the bravest stood stone still at sight of the janissaries swarming on the galley. over the roasting bodies of their comrades, undeterred by the inextinguishable fire, they had crossed the ditch, and were slaying the imperial body-guard. a moment, and they would be in the alley, and then-- up rose a wail: "the janissaries, the janissaries! _kyrie eleison!_" through the knot of christians it passed--it reached constantine in the forefront, and he gave way to the antagonist with whom he was engaged. "god receive my soul!" he exclaimed; and dropping his sword, he turned about, and rushed back with wide extended arms. "friends--countrymen!--is there no christian to kill me?" then they understood why he had left his helmet off. while those nearest stared at him, their hearts too full of pity to do him the last favor one can ask of another, from the midst of the hordesmen there came a man of singular unfitness for such a scene--indeed a delicate woman had not been more out of place--for he was small, stooped, withered, very white haired, very pale, and much bearded--a black velvet cap on his head, and a gown of the like about his body, unarmed, and in every respect unmartial. he seemed to glide in amongst the christians as he had glided through the close press of the turks; and as the latter had given him way, so now the sword points of the christians went down--men in the heat of action forgot themselves, and became bystanders--such power was there in the unearthly eyes of the apparition. "is there no christian to kill me?" cried the emperor again. the man in velvet stood before him. "prince of india!" "you know me? it is well; for now i know you are not beyond remembering." the voice was shrill and cutting, yet it shrilled and cut the sharper. "remember the day i called on you to acknowledge god, and give him his due of worship. remember the day i prayed you on my knees to lend me your power to save my child, stolen for a purpose by all peoples held unholy. behold your executioner!" he stepped back, and raised a hand; and ere one of those standing by could so much as cry to god, nilo, who, in the absorption of interest in his master, had followed him unnoticed--nilo, gorgeous in his barbarisms of kash-cush, sprang into the master's place. he did not strike; but with infinite cruel cunning of hand--no measurable lapse of time ensuing--drew the assegai across the face of the astonished emperor. constantine--never great till that moment of death, but then great forever--fell forward upon his shield, calling in strangled utterance: "god receive my soul!" the savage set his foot upon the mutilated countenance, crushing it into a pool of blood. an instant, then through the petrified throng, knocking them right and left, count corti appeared. "_for christ and irene!_" he shouted, dashing the spiked boss of his shield into nilo's eyes--down upon the feathered coronal he brought his sword--and the negro fell sprawling upon the emperor. oblivious to the surroundings, count corti, on his knees, raised the emperor's head, slightly turning the face--one look was enough. "his soul is sped!" he said; and while he was tenderly replacing the head, a hand grasped his cap. he sprang to his feet. woe to the intruder, if an enemy! the sword which had known no failure was drawn back to thrust--above the advanced foot the shield hung in ready poise--between him and the challenger there was only a margin of air and the briefest interval of time--his breath was drawn, and his eyes gleamed with vengeful murder--but--some power invisible stayed his arm, and into his memory flashed the lightning of recognition. "prince of india," he shouted, "never wert thou nearer death!" "thou--liest! death--and--i"-- the words were long drawn between gasps, and the speech was never finished. the tongue thickened, then paralyzed. the features, already distorted with passion, swelled, and blackened horribly. the eyes rolled back--the hands flew up, the fingers apart and rigid--the body rocked--stiffened--then fell, sliding from the count's shield across the dead emperor. the combat meantime had gone on. corti, with a vague feeling that the prince's flight of soul was a mystery in keeping with his life, took a second to observe him, and muttered: "peace to him also!" looking about him then, he was made aware that the christians, attacked in front and rear, were drawing together around the body of constantine--that their resistance was become the last effort of brave men hopeless except of the fullest possible payment for their lives. this was succeeded by a conviction of duty done on his part, and of every requirement of honor fulfilled; thereupon with a great throb of heart, his mind reverted to the princess irene waiting for him in the chapel. he must go to her. but how? and was it not too late? there are men whose wits are supernaturally quickened by danger. the count, pushing through the intervening throng, boldly presented himself to the janissaries, shouting while warding the blows they aimed at him: "have done, o madmen! see you not i am your comrade, mirza the emir? have done, i say, and let me pass. i have a message for the padishah!" he spoke turkish, and having been an idol in the barracks--their best swordsman--envied, and at the same time beloved--they knew him, and with acclamations opened their files, and let him pass. by the fissure which had served justiniani, he escaped from the terrible alley, and finding his berbers and his horse, rode with speed for the residence of the princess irene. not a christian survived the combat. greek, genoese, italian lay in ghastly composite with hordesmen and mailed moslems around the emperor. in dying they had made good their battle-cry--_for christ and holy church!_ let us believe they will yet have their guerdon. about an hour after the last of them had fallen, when the narrow passage was deserted by the living--the conquerors having moved on in search of their hire--the prince of india aroused, and shook himself free of the corpses cumbering him. upon his knees he gazed at the dead--then at the place--then at the sky. he rubbed his hands--made sure he was sound of person--he seemed uncertain, not of life, but of himself. in fact, he was asking, who am i? and the question had reference to the novel sensations of which he was conscious. what was it coursing through his veins? wine?--elixir?--some new principle which, hidden away amongst the stores of nature, had suddenly evolved for him? the weights of age were gone. in his body--bones, arms, limbs, muscles--he recognized once more the glorious impulses of youth; but his mind--he started--the ideas which had dominated him were beginning to return--and memory! it surged back upon him, and into its wonted chambers, like a wave which, under pressure of a violent wind, has been momentarily driven from a familiar shore. he saw, somewhat faintly at first, the events which had been promontories and lofty peaks cast up out of the level of his long existence. then that day and that event! how distinctly they reappeared to him! they must be the same--must be--for he beheld the multitude on its way to calvary, and the victim tottering under the cross; he heard the tribune ask, "ho, is this the street to golgotha?" he heard his own answer, "i will guide you;" and he spit upon the fainting man of sorrows, and struck him. and then the words--"tarry thou till i come!" identified him to himself. he looked at his hands--they were black with what had been some other man's life-blood, but under the stain the skin was smooth--a little water would make them white. and what was that upon his breast? beard--beard black as a raven's wing! he plucked a lock of hair from his head. it, too, was thick with blood, but it was black. youth--youth--joyous, bounding, eager, hopeful youth was his once more! he stood up, and there was no creak of rust in the hinges of his joints; he knew he was standing inches higher in the sunlit air; and a cry burst from him--"o god, i give thanks!" the hymn stopped there, for between him and the sky, as if it were ascending transfigured, he beheld the victim of the crucifixion; and the eyes, no longer sad, but full of accusing majesty, were looking downward at him, and the lips were in speech: "tarry thou till i come!" he covered his face with his hands. yes, yes, he had his youth back again, but it was with the old mind and nature--youth, that the curse upon him might, in the mortal sense, be eternal! and pulling his black hair with his young hands, wrenching at his black beard, it was given him to see he had undergone his fourteenth transformation, and that between this one and the last there was no lapse of connection. old age had passed, leaving the conditions and circumstances of its going to the youth which succeeded. the new life in starting picked up and loaded itself with every burden and all the misery of the old. so now while burrowing, as it were, amongst dead men, his head upon the breast of the emperor whom, treating nilo as an instrument in his grip, he had slain, he thought most humanly of the effects of the transformation. first of all, his personal identity was lost, and he was once more a wanderer without an acquaintance, a friend, or a sympathizer on the earth. to whom could he now address himself with a hope of recognition? his heart went out primarily to lael--he loved her. suppose he found her, and offered to take her in his arms; she would repulse him. "thou art not my father. he was old--thou art young." and syama, whose bereavements of sense had recommended him for confidant in the event of his witnessing the dreaded circumstance just befallen--if he addressed himself to syama, the faithful creature would deny him. "no; my master was old--his hair and beard were white--thou art a youth. go hence." and then mahommed, to whom he had been so useful in bringing additional empire, and a glory which time would make its own forever--did he seek mahommed again--"thou art not the prince of india, my peerless messenger of the stars. he was old--his hair and beard were white--thou art a boy. ho, guards, take this impostor, and do with him as ye did with balta-ogli stretch him on the ground, and beat the breath out of him." there is nothing comes to us, whether in childhood or age, so crushing as a sense of isolation. who will deny it had to do with the marshalling of worlds, and the peopling them--with creation? these reflections did but wait upon the impulse which still further identified him to himself--the impulse to go and keep going--and he cast about for solaces. "it is the judgment," he said, with a grim smile; "but my stores remain, and hiram of tyre is yet my friend. i have my experience of more than a thousand years, and with it youth again. i cannot make men better, and god refuses my services. nevertheless i will devise new opportunities. the earth is round, and upon its other side there must be another world. perhaps i can find some daring spirit equal to the voyage and discovery--some one heaven may be more willing to favor. but this meeting place of the old continents"--he looked around him, and then to the sky--"with my farewell, i leave it the curse of the most accursed. the desired of nations, it shall be a trouble to them forever." then he saw nilo under a load of corpses, and touched by remembrance of the poor savage's devotion, he uncovered him to get at his heart, which was still beating. next he threw away his cap and gown, replaced them with a bloody tarbousche and a shaggy angora mantle, selected a javelin, and sauntered leisurely on into the city. having seen constantinople pillaged by christians, he was curious to see it now sacked by moslems--there might be a further solace in the comparison. [footnote: according to the earliest legends, the wandering jew was about thirty years old when he stood in the road to golgotha, and struck the saviour, and ordered him to go forward. at the end of every hundred years, the undying man falls into a trance, during which his body returns to the age it was when the curse was pronounced. in all other respects he remains unchanged.] chapter xiii mahommed in sancta sophia count corti, we may well believe, did not spare his own steed, or those of his berbers; and there was a need of haste of which he was not aware upon setting out from st. romain. the turks had broken through the resistance of the christian fleet in the harbor, and were surging into the city by the gate st. peter (phanar), which was perilously near the residence of the princess irene. already the spoil-seekers were making sure of their hire. more than once he dashed by groups of them hurrying along the streets in search of houses most likely to repay plundering. there were instances when he overtook hordesmen already happy in the possession of "strings of slaves;" that is to say, of greeks, mostly women and children, tied by their hands to ropes, and driven mercilessly on. the wailing and prayers of the unfortunate smote the count to the heart; he longed to deliver them; but he had given his best efforts to save them in the struggle to save the city, and had failed; now it would be a providence of heaven could he rescue the woman waiting for him in such faith as was due his word and honor specially plighted to her. as the pillagers showed no disposition to interfere with him, he closed his eyes and ears to their brutalities, and sped forward. the district in which the princess dwelt was being overrun when he at last drew rein at her door. with a horrible dread, he alighted, and pushed in unceremoniously. the reception-room was empty. was he too late? or was she then in sancta sophia? he flew to the chapel, and blessed god and christ and the mother, all in a breath. she was before the altar in the midst of her attendants. sergius stood at her side, and of the company they alone were perfectly self-possessed. a white veil lay fallen over her shoulders; save that, she was in unrelieved black. the pallor of her countenance, caused, doubtless, by weeks of care and unrest, detracted slightly from the marvelous beauty which was hers by nature; but it seemed sorrow and danger only increased the gentle dignity always observable in her speech and manner. "princess irene," he said, hastening forward, and reverently saluting her hand, "if you are still of the mind to seek refuge in sancta sophia, i pray you, let us go thither." "we are ready," she returned. "but tell me of the emperor." the count bent very low. "your kinsman is beyond insult and further humiliation. his soul is with god." her eyes glistened with tears, and partly to conceal her emotion she turned to the picture above the altar, and said, in a low voice, and brokenly: "o holy mother, have thou his soul in thy tender care, and be with me now, going to what fate i know not." the young women surrounded her, and on their knees filled the chapel with sobbing and suppressed wails. striving for composure himself, the count observed them, and was at once assailed by an embarrassment. they were twenty and more. each had a veil over her head; yet from the delicacy of their hands he could imagine their faces, while their rank was all too plainly certified by the elegance of their garments. as a temptation to the savages, their like was not within the walls. how was he to get them safely to the church, and defend them there? he was used to military problems, and decision was a habit with him; still he was sorely tried--indeed, he was never so perplexed. the princess finished her invocation to the holy mother. "count corti," she said, "i now place myself and these, my sisters in misfortune, under thy knightly care. only suffer me to send for one other.--go, sergius, and bring lael." one other! "now god help me!" he cried, involuntarily; and it seemed he was heard. "princess," he returned, "the turks have possession of the streets. on my way i passed them with prisoners whom they were driving, and they appeared to respect a right of property acquired. perhaps they will be not less observant to me; wherefore bring other veils here--enough to bind these ladies two and two." as she seemed hesitant, he added: "pardon me, but in the streets you must all go afoot, to appearances captives just taken." the veils were speedily produced, and the princess bound her trembling companions in couples hand to hand; submitting finally to be herself tied to lael. then when sergius was more substantially joined to the ancient lysander, the household sallied forth. a keener realization of the situation seized the gentler portion of the procession once they were in the street, and they there gave way to tears, sobs, and loud appeals to the saints and angels of mercy. the count rode in front; four of his berbers moved on each side; sheik hadifah guarded the rear; and altogether a more disconsolate company of captives it were hard imagining. a rope passing from the first couple to the last was the only want required to perfect the resemblance to the actual slave droves at the moment on nearly every thoroughfare in constantinople. the weeping cortege passed bands of pillagers repeatedly. once what may be termed a string in fact was met going in the opposite direction; women and children, and men and women were lashed together, like animals, and their lamentations were piteous. if they fell or faltered, they were beaten. it seemed barbarity could go no further. once the count was halted. a man of rank, with a following at his heels, congratulated him in turkish: "o friend, thou hast a goodly capture." the stranger came nearer. "i will give you twenty gold pieces for this one," pointing to the princess irene, who, fortunately, could not understand him--"and fifteen for this one." "go thy way, and quickly," said corti, sternly. "dost thou threaten me?" "by the prophet, yes--with my sword, and the padishah." "the padishah! oh, ho!" and the man turned pale. "god is great--i give him praise." at last the count alighted before the main entrance of the church. by friendly chance, also--probably because the site was far down toward the sea, in a district not yet reached by the hordesmen--the space in front of the vestibule was clear of all but incoming fugitives; and he had but to knock at the door, and give the name of the princess irene to gain admission. in the vestibule the party were relieved of their bonds; after which they passed into the body of the building, where they embraced each other, and gave praise aloud for what they considered a final deliverance from death and danger; in their transports, they kissed the marbles of the floor again and again. while this affecting scene was going on, corti surveyed the interior. the freest pen cannot do more than give the view with a clearness to barely stimulate the reader's imagination. it was about eleven o'clock. the smoke of battle which had overlain the hills of the city was dissipated; so the sun, nearing high noon, poured its full of splendor across the vast nave in rays slanted from south to north, and a fine, almost impalpable dust hanging from the dome in the still air, each ray shone through it in vivid, half-prismatic relief against the shadowy parts of the structure. such pillars in the galleries as stood in the paths of the sunbeams seemed effulgent, like emeralds and rubies. his eyes, however, refused everything except the congregation of people. "o heaven!" he exclaimed. "what is to become of these poor souls!" byzantium, it must be recalled, had had its triumphal days, when greeks drew together, like jews on certain of their holy occasions; undoubtedly the assemblages then were more numerous, but never had there been one so marked by circumstances. this was the funeral day of the empire! let the reader try to recompose the congregation the count beheld--civilians--soldiers--nuns--monks--monks bearded, monks shaven, monks tonsured--monks in high hats and loose veils, monks in gowns scarce distinguishable from gowns of women--monks by the thousand. ah, had they but dared a manly part on the walls, the cause of the christ for whom they affected such devotion would not have suffered the humiliation to which it was now going! as to the mass in general, let the reader think of the rich jostled by the poor--fine ladies careless if their robes took taint from the lazarus' next them--servants for once at least on a plane with haughty masters--senators and slaves--grandsires--mothers with their infants--old and young, high and low, all in promiscuous presence--society at an end--sancta sophia a universal last refuge. and by no means least strange, let the reader fancy the refugees on their knees, silent as ghosts in a tomb, except that now and then the wail of a child broke the awful hush, and gazing over their shoulders, not at the altar, but toward the doors of entrance; then let him understand that every one in the smother of assemblage--every one capable of thought--was in momentary expectation of a miracle. here and there moved priestly figures, holding crucifixes aloft, and halting at times to exhort in low voices: "be not troubled, o dearly beloved of christ! the angel will appear by the old column. if the powers of hell are not to prevail against the church, what may men do against the sword of god?" the congregation was waiting for the promised angel to rescue them from the barbarians. of opinion that the chancel, or space within the railing of the apse opposite him, was a better position for his charge than the crowded auditorium, partly because he could more easily defend them there, and partly because mahommed when he arrived would naturally look for the princess near the altar, the count, with some trouble, secured a place within it behind the brazen balustrade at the right of the gate. the invasion of the holy reserve by the berbers was viewed askance, but submitted to; thereupon the princess and her suite took to waiting and praying. afterwhile the doors in the east were barred by the janitor. still later there was knocking at them loud enough to be by authority. the janitor had become deaf. later still a yelling as of a mob out in the vestibule penetrated to the interior, and a shiver struck the expectant throng, less from a presentiment of evil at hand than a horrible doubt. an angel of the lord would hardly adopt such an incongruous method of proclaiming the miracle done. a murmur of invocation began with those nearest the entrances, and ran from the floor to the galleries. as it spread, the shouting increased in volume and temper. ere long the doors were assailed. the noise of a blow given with determination rang dreadful warning through the whole building, and the concourse arose. the women shrieked: "the turks! the turks!" even the nuns who had been practising faith for years joined their lay sisters in crying: "the turks! the turks!" the great, gowned, cowardly monks dropped their crucifixes, and, like the commoner sons of the church, howled: "the turks! the turks!" finally the doors were battered in, and sure enough--there stood the hordesmen, armed and panoplied each according to his tribe or personal preference--each a most unlikely delivering angel. this completed the panic. in the vicinity of the ruined doors everybody, overcome by terror, threw himself upon those behind, and the impulsion thus started gained force while sweeping on. as ever in such cases, the weak were the sufferers. children were overrun--infants dashed from the arms of mothers--men had need of their utmost strength--and the wisdom of the count in seeking the chancel was proved. the massive brazen railing hardly endured the pressure when the surge reached it; but it stood, and the princess and her household--all, in fact, within the chancel--escaped the crushing, but not the horror. the spoilsmen were in strength, but they were prudently slow in persuading themselves that the greeks were unarmed, and incapable of defending the church. ere long they streamed in, and for the first time in the history of the edifice the colossal christ on the ceiling above the altar was affronted by the slogan of islam--_allah-il-allah_. strange now as it may appear to the reader, there is no mention in the chronicles of a life lost that day within the walls of sancta sophia. the victors were there for plunder, not vengeance, and believing there was more profit in slaves than any other kind of property, their effort was to save rather than kill. the scene was beyond peradventure one of the cruelest in history, but the cruelty was altogether in taking possession of captives. tossing their arms of whatever kind upon their backs, the savages pushed into the pack of christians to select whom they would have. we may be sure the old, sick, weakly, crippled, and very young were discarded, and the strong and vigorous chosen. remembering also how almost universally the hordes were from the east, we may be sure a woman was preferred to a man, and a pretty woman to an ugly one. the hand shrinks from trying to depict the agonies of separation which ensued--mothers torn from their children, wives from husbands--their shrieks, entreaties, despair--the mirthful brutality with which their pitiful attempts at resistance were met--the binding and dragging away--the last clutch of love--the final disappearance. it is only needful to add that the rapine involved the galleries no less than the floor. all things considered, the marvel is that the cry--there was but one, just as the sounds of many waters are but one to the ear--which then tore the habitual silence of the august temple should have ever ceased--and it would not if, in its duration, human sympathy were less like a flitting echo. next to women, the monks were preferred, and the treatment they received was not without its touches of grim humor. their cowls were snatched off, and bandied about, their hats crushed over their ears, their veils stuffed in their mouths to stifle their outcries, their rosaries converted into scourges; and the laughter when a string of them passed to the doors was long and loud. they had pulled their monasteries down upon themselves. if the emperor, then lying in the bloody alley of st. romain, dead through their bigotry, superstition, and cowardice, had been vengeful in the slightest degree, a knowledge of the judgment come upon them so soon would have been at least restful to his spirit. it must not be supposed count corti was indifferent while this appalling scene was in progress. the chancel, he foresaw, could not escape the foray. there was the altar, loaded with donatives in gold and precious stones, a blazing pyramidal invitation. when the doors were burst in, he paused a moment to see if mahommed were coming. "the hordes are here, o princess, but not the sultan." she raised her veil, and regarded him silently. "i see now but one resort. as mirza the emir, i must meet the pillagers by claiming the sultan sent me in advance to capture and guard you for him." "we are at mercy, count corti," she replied. "heaven deal with you as you deal with us." "if the ruse fails, princess, i can die for you. now tie yourselves as before--two and two, hand to hand. it may be they will call on me to distinguish such as are my charge." she cast a glance of pity about her. "and these, count--these poor women not of my house, and the children--can you not save them also?" "alas, dear lady! the blessed mother must be their shield." while the veils were being applied, the surge against the railing took place, leaving a number of dead and fainting across it. "hadifah," the count called out, "clear the way to yon chair against the wall." the sheik set about removing the persons blockading the space, and greatly affected by their condition, the princess interceded for them. "nay, count, disturb them not. add not to their terror, i pray." but the count was a soldier; in case of an affray, he wanted the advantage of a wall at his back. "dear lady, it was the throne of your fathers, now yours. i will seat you there. from it you can best treat with the lord mahommed." ere long some of the hordes--half a dozen or more--came to the chancel gate. they were of the rudest class of anatolian shepherds, clad principally in half-cloaks of shaggy goat skin. each bore at his back a round buckler, a bow, and a clumsy quiver of feathered arrows. awed by the splendor of the altar and its surroundings, they stopped; then, with shouts, they rushed at the tempting display, unmindful of the living spoils crouched on the floor dumb with terror. others of a like kind reenforced them, and there was a fierce scramble. the latest comers turned to the women, and presently discovered the princess irene sitting upon the throne. one, more eager than the rest, was indisposed to respect the berbers. "here are slaves worth having. get your ropes," he shouted to his companions. the count interposed. "art thou a believer?" he asked in turkish. they surveyed him doubtfully, and then turned to hadifah and his men, tall, imperturbable looking, their dark faces visible through their open hoods of steel. they looked at their shields also, and at their bare cimeters resting points to the floor. "why do you ask?" the man returned. "because, as thou mayst see, we also are of the faithful, and do not wish harm to any whose mothers have taught them to begin the day with the fah-hat." the fellow was impressed. "who art thou?" "i am the emir mirza, of the household of our lord the padishah--to whom be all the promises of the koran! these are slaves i selected for him--all these thou seest in bonds. i am keeping them till he arrives. he will be here directly. he is now coming." a man wearing a bloody tarbousche joined the pillagers, during this colloquy, and pressing in, heard the emir's name passing from mouth to mouth. "the emir mirza! i knew him, brethren. he commanded the caravan, and kept the _mahmals,_ the year i made the pilgrimage.... stand off, and let me see." after a short inspection, he continued: "truly as there is no god but god, this is he. i was next him at the most holy corner of the kaaba when he fell down struck by the plague. i saw him kiss the black stone, and by virtue of the kiss he lived.... ay, stand back--or if you touch him, or one of these in his charge, and escape his hand, ye shall not escape the padishah, whose first sword he is, even as khalid was first sword for the prophet--exalted be his name!... give me thy hand, o valiant emir." he kissed the count's hand. "arise, o son of thy father," said corti; "and when our master, the lord mahommed, hath set up his court and harem, seek me for reward." the man stayed awhile, although there was no further show of interference; and he looked past the princess to lael cowering near her. he took no interest in what was going on around him--lael alone attracted him. at last he shifted his sheepskin covering higher upon his shoulders, and left these words with the count: "the women are not for the harem. i understand thee, o mirza. when the lord mahommed hath set up his court, do thou tell the little jewess yonder that her father the prince of india charged thee to give her his undying love." count corti was wonder struck--he could not speak--and so the wandering jew vanished from his sight as he now vanishes from our story. the selection among the other refugees in the chancel proceeded until there was left of them only such as were considered not worth the having. a long time passed, during which the princess irene sat with veil drawn close, trying to shut out the horror of the scene. her attendants, clinging to the throne and to each other, seemed a heap of dead women. at last a crash of music was heard in the vestibule--drums, cymbals, and trumpets in blatant flourish. four runners, slender lads, in short, sleeveless jackets over white shirts, and wide trousers of yellow silk, barefooted and bareheaded, stepped lightly through the central doorway, and, waving wands tipped with silver balls, cried, in long-toned shrill iteration: "the lord mahommed--mahommed, sultan of sultans." the spoilsmen suspended their hideous labor--the victims, moved doubtless by a hope of rescue, gave over their lamentations and struggling--only the young children, and the wounded, and suffering persisted in vexing the floor and galleries. next to enter were the five official heralds. halting, they blew a triumphant refrain, at which the thousands of eyes not too blinded by misery turned to them. and mahommed appeared! he too had escaped the angel of the false monks! when the fighting ceased in the harbor, and report assured him of the city at mercy, mahommed gave order to make the gate st. romain passable for horsemen, and with clever diplomacy summoned the pachas and other military chiefs to his tent; it was his pleasure that they should assist him in taking possession of the prize to which he had been helped by their valor. with a rout so constituted at his back, and an escort of _silihdars_ mounted, the runners and musicians preceding him, he made his triumphal entry into constantinople, traversing the ruins of the towers bagdad and st. romain. he was impatient and restless. in their ignorance of his passion for the grecian princess, his ministers excused his behavior on account of his youth [footnote: he was in his twenty-third year.] and the greatness of his achievement. passing st. romain, it was also observed he took no interest in the relics of combat still there. he gave his guides but one order: "take me to the house the _gabours_ call the glory of god." "sancta sophia, my lord?" "sancta sophia--and bid the runners run." his sheik-ul-islam was pleased. "hear!" he said to the dervishes with him. "the lord mahommed will make mosques of the houses of christ before sitting down in one of the palaces. his first honors are to god and the prophet." and they dutifully responded: "great are god and his prophet! great is mahommed, who conquers in their names!" the public edifices by which he was guided--churches, palaces, and especially the high aqueduct, excited his admiration; but he did not slacken the fast trot in which he carried his loud cavalcade past them until at the hippodrome. "what thing of devilish craft is here?" he exclaimed, stopping in front of the twisted serpents. "thus the prophet bids me!" and with a blow of his mace, he struck off the lower jaw of one of the pythons. again the dervishes shouted: "great is mahommed, the servant of god!" it was his preference to be taken to the eastern front of sancta sophia, and in going the guides led him by the corner of the bucoleon. at sight of the vast buildings, their incomparable colonnades and cornices, their domeless stretches of marble and porphyry, he halted the second time, and in thought of the vanity of human glory, recited: "the spider hath woven his web in the imperial palace; and the owl hath sung her watch-song on the towers of afrasiab." in the space before the church, as elsewhere along the route he had come, the hordes were busy carrying off their wretched captives; but he affected not to see them. they had bought the license of him, many of them with their blood. at the door the suite dismounted. mahommed however, kept his saddle while surveying the gloomy exterior. presently he bade: "let the runners and the heralds enter." hardly were they gone in, when he spoke to one of his pages: "here, take thou this, and give me my cimeter." and then, receiving the ruby-hilted sword of solomon in exchange for the mace of ilderim, without more ado he spurred his horse up the few broad stone steps, and into the vestibule. thence, the contemptuous impulse yet possessing him, he said loudly: "the house is defiled with idolatrous images. islam is in the saddle." in such manner--mounted, sword in hand, shield behind him--clad in beautiful gold-washed chain mail, the very ideal of the immortal emir who won jerusalem from the crusaders, and restored it to allah and the prophet--mahommed made his first appearance in sancta sophia. astonishment seized him. he checked his horse. slowly his gaze ranged over the floor--up to the galleries--up--up to the swinging dome--in all architecture nothing so nearly a self-depending sky. "here, take the sword--give me back my mace," he said. and in a fit of enthusiasm, not seeing, not caring for the screaming wretches under hoof, he rode forward, and, standing at full height in his stirrups, shouted: "idolatry be done! down with the trinity. let christ give way for the last and greatest of the prophets! to god the one god, i dedicate this house!" therewith he dashed the mace against a pillar; and as the steel rebounded, the pillar trembled. [footnote: the guides, if good moslems, take great pleasure in showing tourists the considerable dent left by this blow in the face of the pillar.] "now give me the sword again, and call achmet, my muezzin--achmet with the flute in his throat." the moods of mahommed were swift going and coming. riding out a few steps, he again halted to give the floor a look. this time evidently the house was not in his mind. the expression on his face became anxious. he was searching for some one, and moved forward so slowly the people could get out of his way, and his suite overtake him. at length he observed the half-stripped altar in the apse, and went to it. the colossal christ on the ceiling peered down on him through the shades beginning to faintly fill the whole west end. now he neared the brazen railing of the chancel--now he was at the gate--his countenance changed--his eyes brightened--he had discovered count corti. swinging lightly from his saddle, he passed with steps of glad impatience through the gateway. then to count corti came the most consuming trial of his adventurous life. the light was still strong enough to enable him to see across the church. comprehending the flourish of the heralds, he saw the man on horseback enter; and the mien, the pose in the saddle, the rider's whole outward expose of spirit, informed him with such certainty as follows long and familiar association, that mahommed was come--mahommed, his ideal of romantic orientalism in arms. a tremor shook him--his cheek whitened. to that moment anxiety for the princess had held him so entirely he had not once thought of the consequences of the wager lost; now they were let loose upon him. having saved her from the hordes, now he must surrender her to a rival--now she was to go from him forever. verily it had been easier parting with his soul. he held to his cimeter as men instantly slain sometimes keep grip on their weapons; yet his head sunk upon his breast, and he saw nothing more of mahommed until he stood before him inside the chancel. "count corti, where is"-- mahommed caught sight of the count's face. "oh, my poor mirza!" a volume of words could not have so delicately expressed sympathy as did that altered tone. taking off his steel glove, the fitful conqueror extended the bare hand, and the count, partially recalled to the situation by the gracious offer, sunk to his knees, and carried the hand to his lips. "i have kept the faith, my lord," he said in turkish, his voice scarcely audible. "this is she behind me--upon the throne of her fathers. receive her from me, and let me depart." "my poor mirza! we left the decision to god, and he has decided. arise, and hear me now." to the notables closing around, he said, imperiously: "stand not back. come up, and hear me." stepping past the count, then, he stood before the princess. she arose without removing her veil, and would have knelt; but mahommed moved nearer, and prevented her. the training of the politest court in europe was in her action, and the suite looking on, used to slavishness in captives, and tearful humility in women, he held her with amazement; nor could one of them have said which most attracted him, her queenly composure or her simple grace. "suffer me, my lord," she said to him; then to her attendants: "this is mahommed the sultan. let us pray him for honorable treatment." presently they were kneeling, and she would have joined them, but mahommed again interfered. "your hand, o princess irene! i wish to salute it." sometimes a wind blows out of the sky, and swinging the bell in the cupola, starts it to ringing itself; so now, at sight of the only woman he ever really loved overtaken by so many misfortunes, and actually threatened by a rabble of howling slave-hunters, mahommed's better nature thrilled with pity and remorse, and it was only by an effort of will he refrained from kneeling to her, and giving his passion tongue. nevertheless a kiss, though on the hand, can be made tell a tale of love, and that was what the youthful conqueror did. "i pray next that you resume your seat," he continued. "it has pleased god, o daughter of a palaeologus, to leave you the head of the greek people; and as i have the terms of a treaty to submit of great concern to them and you, it were more becoming did you hear me from a throne.... and first, in this presence, i declare you a free woman--free to go or stay, to reject or to accept--for a treaty is impossible except to sovereigns. if it be your pleasure to go, i pledge conveyance, whether by sea or land, to you and yours--attendants, slaves, and property; nor shall there be in any event a failure of moneys to keep you in the state to which you have been used." "for your grace, lord mahommed, i shall beseech heaven to reward you." "as the god of your faith is the god of mine, o princess irene, i shall be grateful for your prayers.... in the next place, i entreat you to abide here; and to this i am moved by regard for your happiness. the conditions will be strange to you, and in your going about there will be much to excite comparisons of the old with the new; but the arabs had once a wise man, el hatim by name--you may have heard of him"--he cast a quick look at the eyes behind the veil--"el hatim, a poet, a warrior, a physician, and he left a saying: 'herbs for fevers, amulets for mischances, and occupation for distempers of memory.' if it should be that time proves powerless over your sorrows, i would bring employment to its aid.... heed me now right well. it pains me to think of constantinople without inhabitants or commerce, its splendors decaying, its palaces given over to owls, its harbor void of ships, its churches vacant except of spiders, its hills desolations to eyes afar on the sea. if it become not once more the capital city of europe and asia, some one shall have defeated the will of god; and i cannot endure that guilt or the thought of it. 'sins are many in kind and degree, differing as the leaves and grasses differ,' says a dervish of my people; 'but for him who stands wilfully in the eyes of the most merciful--for him only shall there be no mercy in the great day.'... yes, heed me right well--i am not the enemy of the greeks, o princess irene. their power could not agree with mine, and i made war upon it; but now that heaven has decided the issue, i wish to recall them. they will not listen to me. though i call loudly and often, they will remember the violence inflicted on them in my name. their restoration is a noble work in promise. is there a greek of trust, and so truly a lover of his race, to help me make the promise a deed done? the man is not; but thou, o princess--thou art. behold the employment i offer you! i will commission you to bring them home--even these sorrowful creatures going hence in bonds. or do you not love them so much?... religion shall not hinder you. in the presence of these, my ministers of state, i swear to divide houses of god with you; half of them shall be christian, the other half moslem; arid neither sect shall interfere with the other's worship. this i will seal, reserving only this house, and that the patriarch be chosen subject to my approval. or do you not love your religion so much?".... during the discourse the princess listened intently; now she would have spoken, but he lifted his hand. "not yet, not yet! it is not well for you to answer now. i desire that you have time to consider--and besides, i come to terms of more immediate concern to you.... here, in the presence of these witnesses, o princess irene, i offer you honorable marriage." mahommed bowed very low at the conclusion of this proposal. "and wishing the union in conscience agreeable to you, i undertake to celebrate it according to christian rite and moslem. so shall you become queen of the greeks--their intercessor--the restorer and protector of their church and worship--so shall you be placed in a way to serve god purely and unselfishly; and if a thirst for glory has ever moved you, o princess, i present it to you a cupful larger than woman ever drank.... you may reside here or in therapia, and keep your private chapel and altar, and choose whom you will to serve them. and these things i will also swear to and seal." again she would have interrupted him. "no--bear with me for the once. i invoke your patience," he said. "in the making of treaties, o princess, one of the parties must first propose terms; then it is for the other to accept or reject, and in turn propose. and this"--he glanced hurriedly around--"this is no time nor place for argument. be content rather to return to your home in the city or your country-house at therapia. in three days, with your permission, i will come for your answer; and whatever it be, i swear by him who is god of the world, it shall be respected.... when i come, will you receive me?" "the lord mahommed will be welcome." "where may i wait on you?" "at therapia," she answered. mahommed turned about then. "count corti, go thou with the princess irene to therapia. i know thou wilt keep her safely.--and thou, kalil, have a galley suitable for a queen of the greeks made ready on the instant, and let there be no lack of guards despatched with it, subject to the orders of count corti, for the time once more mirza the emir.... o princess, if i have been peremptory, forgive me, and lend me thy hand again. i wish to salute it." again she silently yielded to his request. kalil, seeing only politics in the scene, marched before the princess clearing the way, and directly she was out of the church. at the suggestion of the count, sedan chairs were brought, and she and her half-stupefied companions carried to a galley, arriving at therapia about the fourth hour after sunset. mahommed had indeed been imperious in the interview; but, as he afterward explained to her, with many humble protestations, he had a part to play before his ministers. no sooner was she removed than he gave orders to clear the building of people and idolatrous symbols; and while the work was in progress, he made a tour of inspection going from the floor to the galleries. his wonder and admiration were unbounded. passing along the right-hand gallery, he overtook a pilferer with a tarbousche full of glass cubes picked from one of the mosaic pictures. "thou despicable!" he cried, in rage. "knowest thou not that i have devoted this house to allah? profane a mosque, wilt thou?" and he struck the wretch with the flat of his sword. hastening then to the chancel, he summoned achmet, the muezzin. "what is the hour?" he asked. "it is the hour of the fourth prayer, my lord." "ascend thou then to the highest turret of the house, and call the faithful to pious acknowledgment of the favors of god and his prophet--may their names be forever exalted." thus sancta sophia passed from christ to mahomet; and from that hour to this islam has had sway within its walls. not once since have its echoes been permitted to respond to a christian prayer or a hymn to the virgin. nor was this the first instance when, to adequately punish a people for the debasement and perversions of his revelations, god, in righteous anger, tolerated their destruction. to-day there are two cities, lights once of the whole earth, under curses so deeply graven in their remains--sites, walls, ruins--that every man and woman visiting them should be brought to know why they fell. alas, for jerusalem! alas, for constantinople! postscripts. in the morning of the third day after the fall of the city, a common carrier galley drew alongside the marble quay in front of the princess' garden at therapia, and landed a passenger--an old, decrepit man, cowled and gowned like a monk. with tottering steps he passed the gate, and on to the portico of the classic palace. of lysander, he asked: "is the princess irene here or in the city?" "she is here." "i am a greek, tired and hungry. will she see me?" the ancient doorkeeper disappeared, but soon returned. "she will see you. this way." the stranger was ushered into the reception room. standing before the princess, he threw back his cowl. she gazed at him a moment, then went to him and, taking his hands, cried, her eyes streaming with tears: "father hilarion! now praised be god for sending you to me in this hour of uncertainty and affliction!" needless saying the poor man's trials ended there, and that he never again went cold, or hungry, or in want of a place to lay his head. but this morning, after breaking fast, he was taken into council, and the proposal of marriage being submitted to him, he asked first: "what are thy inclinations, daughter?" and she made unreserved confession. the aged priest spread his hands paternally over her head, and, looking upward, said solemnly: "i think i see the great designer's purpose. he gave thee, o daughter, thy beauties of person and spirit, and raised thee up out of unspeakable sorrows, that the religion of christ should not perish utterly in the east. go forward in the way he has opened unto thee. only insist that mahommed present himself at thy altar, and there swear honorable dealing with thee as his wife, and to keep the treaty proposed by him in spirit and letter. doth he those things without reservation, then fear not. the old greek church is not all we would have it, but how much better it is than irreligion; and who can now say what will happen once our people are returned to the city?" * * * * * in the afternoon, a boat with one rower touched at the same marble quay, and disembarked an arab. his face was a dusty brown, and he wore an _abba_ such as children of the desert affect. his dark eyes were wonderfully bright, and his bearing was high, as might be expected in the sheik of a tribe whose camels were thousands to the man, and who dwelt in dowars with streets after the style of cities. on his right forearm he carried a crescent-shaped harp of five strings, inlaid with colored woods and mother of pearl. "does not the princess irene dwell here?" he asked. lysander, viewing him suspiciously, answered: "the princess irene dwells here." "wilt thou tell her one aboo-obeidah is at the door with a blessing and a story for her?" the doorkeeper again disappeared, and, returning, answered, with evident misgivings, "the princess irene prays you to come in." aboo-obeidah tarried at the therapian palace till night fell; and his story was an old one then, but he contrived to make it new; even as at this day, though four hundred and fifty years older than when he told it to the princess, women of white souls, like hers, still listen to it with downcast eyes and flushing cheeks--the only story which time has kept and will forever keep fresh and persuasive as in the beginning'. they were married in her chapel at therapia, father hilarion officiating. thence, when the city was cleansed of its stains of war, she went thither with mahommed, and he proclaimed her his sultana at a feast lasting through many days. and in due time he built for her the palace behind point demetrius, yet known as the seraglio. in other words, mahommed the sultan abided faithfully by the vows aboo-obeidah made for him. [footnote: the throne of mahommed was guarded by the numbers and fidelity of his moslem subjects; but his national policy aspired to collect the remnant of the greeks; and they returned in crowds as soon as they were assured of their lives, their liberties, and the free exercise of their religion.... the churches of constantinople were shared between the two religions. gibbon. ] and so, with ampler means, and encouraged by mahommed, the princess irene spent her life doing good, and earned the title by which she became known amongst her countrymen--the most gracious queen of the greeks. sergius never took orders formally. with the sultana irene and father hilarion, he preferred the enjoyment and practice of the simple creed preached by him in sancta sophia, though as between the latins and the orthodox greeks he leaned to the former. the active agent dispensing the charities of his imperial benefactress, he endeared himself to the people of both religions. ere long, he married lael, and they lived happily to old age. * * * * * nilo was found alive, and recovering, joined count corti. * * * * * count corti retained the fraternal affection of mahommed to the last. the conqueror strove to keep him. he first offered to send him ambassador to john sobieski; that being declined, he proposed promoting him chief aga of janissaries, but the count declared it his duty to hasten to italy, and devote himself to his mother. the sultan finally assenting, he took leave of the princess irene the day before her marriage. an officer of the court representing mahommed conducted the count to the galley built in venice. upon mounting the deck he was met by the tripolitans, her crew, and sheik hadifah, with his fighting berbers. he was then informed that the vessel and all it contained belonged to him. the passage was safely made. from brindisi he rode to castle corti. to his amazement, it was completely restored. not so much as a trace of the fire and pillage it had suffered was to be seen. his reception by the countess can be imagined. the proofs he brought were sufficient with her, and she welcomed him with a joy heightened by recollections of the years he had been lost to her, and the manifest goodness of the blessed madonna in at last restoring him--the joy one can suppose a christian mother would show for a son returned to her, as it were, from the grave. the first transports of the meeting over, he reverted to the night he saw her enter the chapel: "the castle was then in ruins; how is it i now find it rebuilt?" "did you not order the rebuilding?" "i knew nothing of it." then the countess told him a man had presented himself some months prior, with a letter purporting to be from him, containing directions to repair the castle, and spare no expense in the work. "fortunately," she said, "the man is yet in brindisi." the count lost no time in sending for the stranger, who presented him a package sealed and enveloped in oriental style, only on the upper side there was a _tughra_, or imperial seal, which he at once recognized as mahommed's. with eager fingers he took off the silken wraps, and found a note in translation as follows: "mahommed the sultan to ugo, count corti, formerly mirza the emir. "the wager we made, o my friend, who should have been the son of my mother, is not yet decided, and as it is not given a mortal to know the will of the most compassionate until he is pleased to expose it, i cannot say what the end will be. yet i love you, and have faith in you; and wishing you to be so assured whether i win or lose, i send mustapha to your country in advance with proofs of your heirship, and to notify the noble lady, your mother, that you are alive, and about returning to her. also, forasmuch as a turk destroyed it, he is ordered to rebuild your father's castle, and add to the estate all the adjacent lands he can buy; for verily no countship can be too rich for the mirza who was my brother. and these things he will do in your name, not mine. and when it is done, if to your satisfaction, o count, give him a statement that he may come to me with evidence of his mission discharged. "i commend you to the favor of the compassionate. mahommed." when the missive was read, mustapha knelt to the count, and saluted him. then he conducted him into the chapel of the castle, and going to the altar, showed him an iron door, and said: "my master, the lord mahommed, instructed me to deposit here certain treasure with which he graciously intrusted me. receive the key, i pray, and search the vault, and view the contents, and, if it please you, give me a certificate which will enable me to go back to my country, and live there a faithful servant of my master, the lord mahommed--may he be exalted as the faithful are!" now when the count came to inspect the contents of the vault he was displeased; and seeing it, mustapha proceeded: "my master, the lord mahommed, anticipated that you might protest against receiving the treasure; if so, i was to tell you it was to make good in some measure the sums the noble lady your mother has paid in searching for you, and in masses said for the repose of your father's soul." corti could not do else than accept. finally, to complete the narrative, he never married. the reasonable inference is, he never met a woman with graces sufficient to drive the princess irene from his memory. after the death of the countess, his mother, he went up to rome, and crowned a long service as chief of the papal guard by dying of a wound received in a moment of victory. hadifah, the berbers, and nilo chose to stay with him throughout. the tripolitans were returned to their country; after which the galley was presented to the holy father. once every year there came to the count a special messenger from constantinople with souvenirs; sometimes a sword royally enriched, sometimes a suit of rare armor, sometimes horses of el hajez--these were from mahommed. sometimes the gifts were precious relics, or illuminated scriptures, or rosaries, or crosses, or triptychs wonderfully executed--so irene the sultana chose to remind him of her gratitude. syama wandered around constantinople a few days after the fall of the city, looking for his master, whom he refused to believe dead. lael offered him asylum for life. suddenly he disappeared, and was never seen or heard of more. it may be presumed, we think, that the prince of india succeeded in convincing him of his identity, and took him to other parts of the world--possibly back to cipango. the end. transcriber's note: inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have been preserved. obvious typographical errors have been corrected. italic text is denoted by _underscores_. - the book uses both palæologus and palælogus. - the book uses both destreeses and de streeses. in both cases, both spellings have been retained as printed. page : ramedan should possibly be ramadan. "_your swarthy hero scanderbeg, gauntlet on hand and boot on leg, and skilled in every warlike art, riding through his albanian lands, and following the auspicious star that shone for him o'er ak-hissar._" longfellow the captain of the janizaries _a story of the times of scanderbeg and the fall of constantinople_ by james m. ludlow, d.d. litt.d eleventh edition new york and london harper & brothers publishers copyright, , by dodd, mead & co. copyright, , by james m. ludlow. _electrotyped by dodd, mead & co._ preface. the story of the captain of the janizaries originated, not in the author's desire to write a book, but in the fascinating interest of the times and characters he has attempted to depict. it seems strange that the world should have so generally forgotten george castriot, or scanderbeg, as the turks named him, whose career was as romantic as it was significant in the history of the eastern mediterranean. gibbon assigns to him but a few brief pages, just enough to make us wonder that he did not write more of the man who, he confessed, "with unequal arms resisted twenty-three years the powers of the ottoman empire." creasy, in his history of the turks, devotes less than a page to the exploits of one who "possessed strength and activity such as rarely fall to the lot of man," "humbled the pride of amurath and baffled the skill and power of his successor mahomet." history, as we make it in events, is an ever-widening river, but, as remembered, it is like a stream bursting eastward from the lebanons, growing less as it flows until it is drained away in the desert. though our story is in the form of romance, it is more than "founded upon fact." the details are drawn from historical records, such as the chronicles of the monk barletius--a contemporary, though perhaps a prejudiced admirer, of scanderbeg--the later byzantine annals, the customs of the albanian people, and scenes observed while travelling in the east. the author takes the occasion of the publication of a new edition to gratefully acknowledge many letters from scholars, as well as notices from the press, which have expressed appreciation of this attempt to revive popular interest in lands and peoples that are to reappear in the drama of the ottoman expulsion from europe, upon which the curtain is now rising. the captain of the janizaries. chapter i from the centre of the old town of brousa, in asia minor--old even at the time of our story, about the middle of the fifteenth century--rises an immense plateau of rock, crowned with the fortress whose battlements and towers cut their clear outlines high against the sky. an officer of noble rank in the ottoman service stood leaning upon the parapet, apparently regaling himself with the marvellous panorama of natural beauty and historic interest which lay before him. the vast plain, undulating down to the distant sea of marmora, was mottled with fields of grain, gardens enclosed in hedges of cactus, orchards in which the light green of the fig-trees blended with the duskier hues of the olive, and dense forests of oak plumed with the light yellow blooms of the chestnut. here and there writhed the heavy vapors of the hot sulphurous streams springing out of the base of the phrygian olympus, which reared its snow-clad peak seven thousand feet above. the lower stones of the fortress of brousa were the mementoes of twenty centuries which had drifted by them since they were laid by the old phrygian kings. the flags of many empires had floated from those walls, not the least significant of which was that of the ottoman, who, a hundred years before, had consecrated brousa as his capital by burying in yonder mausoleum the body of othman, the founder of the ottoman dynasty of the sultans. but the turkish officer was thinking of neither the beauty of the scene nor the historic impressiveness of the place. his face, shaded by the folds of his enormous turban, wore deeper shadows which were flung upon it from within. he was talking to himself. "the padishah[ ] has a nobler capital now than this,--across the sea there in christian europe. but by whose hands was it conquered? by christian hands! by janizaries! renegades! ay, this hand!"--he stripped his arm bare to the shoulder and looked upon its gnarled muscles as he hissed the words through his teeth--"this hand has cut a wider swathe through the enemies of the ottoman than any other man's; a swathe down which the padishah can walk without tripping his feet. and this was a christian's hand once! well may i believe the story my old nurse so often told me,--that, when the priest was dropping the water of baptism upon my baby brow, this hand seized the sacred vessel, and it fell shattered upon the pavement. ah, well have i fulfilled that omen!" the man walked to and fro on the platform with quick and jarring step, as if to shake off the grip of unwelcome thoughts. there was a majesty in his mien which did not need the play of his partially suppressed fury to fascinate the attention of any who might have beheld him at the moment. he was tall of stature, immensely broad at the shoulders, deep lunged, comparatively light and trim in the loins, as the close drawn sash beneath the embroidered jacket revealed: arms long; hands large. he looked as if he might wrestle with a bear without a weapon. his features were not less notable than his form. his forehead was high and square, with such fulness at the corners as to leave two cross valleys in the middle. deep-set eyes gleamed from beneath broad and heavy brows. the lips were firm, as if they had grown rigid from the habit of concealing, rather than expressing, thought, except in the briefest words of authority,--cæsar-lips to summarize a campaign in a sentence. the chin was heavy, and would have unduly protruded were it not that there were needed bulk and strength to stand as the base of such prominent upper features. altogether his face would have been pronounced hard and forbidding, had it not been relieved as remarkably by that strange radiance with which strong intelligence and greatness of soul sometimes transfigure the coarsest features. these peculiarities of the man were observed and commented upon by two officers who were sitting in the embrasure of the parapet at the farther end of the battlement. the elder of the two, who had grown gray in the service, addressed his comrade, a young man, though wearing the insignia of rank equal to that of the other. "yes, bashaw,[ ] he is not only the right hand of the padishah, but the army has not seen an abler soldier since the ottoman entered europe. you know his history?" "only as every one knows it, for in recent years he has written it with his cimeter flashing through battle dust as the lightning through clouds," replied the young officer. the veteran warmed with enthusiasm as he narrated, "i well remember him as a lad when he was brought from the arnaout's[ ] country. he was not over nine years of age when sultan mahomet conquered the lands of epirus, where our general's father, john castriot, was duke. as a hostage young george castriot was brought with his three brothers to adrianople." "are his brothers of the same metal?" asked the listener. "allah only knows what they would have been had not state necessity----" the narrator completed the sentence by a significant gesture, imitating the swirl of the executioner's sword as he takes off the head of an offender. "but george castriot was a favorite of the sultan, who fondled him as the roman hadrian did his beautiful page, antinous. and well he might, for a lad more lithe of limb and of wit never walked the ground since allah bade the angels worship the goodly form of adam.[ ] once when a prize was offered for the best display of armor, and the provinces were represented by their different champions in novel helmets and corselets and shields, none of which pleased the imperial taste, it was the whim of the padishah to have young castriot parade before the judges panoplied only in his naked muscle, and to order that the prize should be given to him, together with the title iscanderbeg.[ ] and well he won it. in the after wrestling matches he put upon his hip the best of them, turcomans from asia, and moors from africa, and giaours[ ] from the west. and he was as skilful on a horse's legs as he was on his own. his namesake, alexander, could not have managed bucephalus better than he. i well remember his game with the two scythians. they came from far to have a joust with the best of the padishah's court. they were to fight singly: if one were overthrown, the other, after the victor had breathed himself, was to redeem the honor of his comrade. scanderbeg sent his spear-head into the throat of his antagonist at the first encounter, when the second barbarian villain treacherously set upon him from the rear. the young champion wheeled his horse as quickly as a dervish twists his body, and with one blow of his sword, clove him in twain from skull to saddle." "bravo!" cried the listener, "i believe it, for look at the arm that he has uncovered now." "it is a custom he has," continued the narrator. "he always fights with his sword-arm bared to the shoulder. when he was scarce nineteen years old he was at the siege of constantinople, in of the hegira,[ ] with sultan amurath. his skill there won him a sanjak.[ ] since that time you know his career." "ay! his squadrons have shaken the world." "he has changed of late, however; grown heavy at the brows. but he comes this way." as the general approached, the two bashaws bowed low to the ground, and then stood in the attitude of profound obeisance until he addressed them. his face gleamed with frank and genial familiarity as he exchanged with them a few words; but it was again masked in sombre thoughtfulness as he passed on. near the gate by which the fortress was entered from the lower town was gathered a group of soldiers who were bantering a strange looking creature with hands tied behind him--evidently some captive. "what have you here?" said scanderbeg, approaching them. "that we cannot tell. it is a secret," replied the subaltern officer in charge of the squad, making a low salâm, and with a twinkle in his eyes which took from his reply all semblance of disrespect. "but i must have your secret," said the general good-naturedly. "it is not our secret, sire," replied the man, "but his. he will not tell us who he is." "where does he belong? what tongue has he, aladdin? you who were once interpreter to the bey of anatolia should know any man by his tongue." "he has no tongue, sire. he is dumb as a toad. his beard has gone untrimmed so long that it has sewed fast his jaws. he has not performed his ablutions since the last shower washed him, and his ears are so filled with dirt plugs that he could not hear a thunder clap." the face of the captive seemed to strangely interest the general, who said as he turned away, "send him to our quarters. the padishah has taken a fancy to deaf mutes of late. they overhear no secrets and tell no tales. we will scrape him deep enough to find if he has a soul. if he knows his foot from his buttocks he will be as valued a present to his majesty as a fifth wife.[ ] send him to our quarters." the general soon returned to the fortress. a room dimly lighted through two narrow windows that opened into a small inner court, and contained a divan or couch, a table, and a motley collection of arms, was the residence of the commandant. a soldier stood by the entrance guarding the unfortunate captive. "you may leave him with me," said scanderbeg approaching. the man was thrust into the apartment, and stood with head bowed until the guard withdrew. the general turned quickly upon him as soon as they were alone. "if i mistake not, man, though your tongue be tied, your eye spake to me by the gate." "it was heaven's blessing upon my errand reflected there," replied the man in the albanian language. "i bear thee a message from moses goleme, of lower dibria, and from all the provinces of albania, from every valley and every heart." "let me hear it, for i love the very flints on the mountains and every pebble on the shore of old albania," replied scanderbeg eagerly. "heaven be praised! were my ears dull as the stones they would open to hear such words," said the man with suppressed emotion. "for since the death of thy noble father--" "my father's death! i had not heard it. when?" exclaimed the general. "it is four moons since we buried him beneath the holy stones of the church at croia, and the sultan sent us general sebaly to govern in his stead." "do you speak true?" cried scanderbeg, laying his hand upon the man's shoulder and glaring into his face. "my father dead? and a stranger appointed in his stead? and sultan amurath has not even told me! beware, man, lest you mistake." "i cannot mistake, sire, for these hands closed the eyes of john castriot after he had breathed a prayer for his land and for his son--one prayer for both. moses goleme was with us, for you know he was thy father's dearest friend and wisest counsellor, and to him thy father gave charge that word should be sent thee that to thee he bequeathed his lands." "stop! stop!" said scanderbeg, pacing the little room like a caged lion. "let me think. but go on. he did not curse me, then? swear to me,"--and he turned facing the man--"swear to me that my father did not curse me with his dying breath! swear it!" "i swear it," said the man, "and that all albania prays to-day for george castriot. these are the tidings which the noble moses bade me bring thee, though i found thee at the indus or under the throne of the sultan himself. i have no other message. that i might tell thee this in the free speech of albania i have kept dumb to all others. if it be treason to the sultan for thee to hear it, let my head pay the penalty. but know, sire, that our land will rest under no other rule than that of a castriot." "a castriot!" soliloquized the general. "well, it is a better name than scanderbeg. ho, guard! take this fellow! let him share your mess!" when alone the general threw himself upon the divan for a moment, then paced again the apartment, and muttered to himself---- "and for what has a castriot given himself to the turk! yet i did not betray my land and myself. they stole me. they seduced my judgment as a child. they flattered my conceit as a man. like a leopard i have fought in the padishah's arena, and for a leopard's pay--the meat that makes him strong, and the gilded cage that sets off his spots. i have led his armies, for what? for glory. but whose glory? the padishah cries in every emergency, 'where is _my_ scanderbeg? scanderbeg to the rescue!' but it means, 'slave, do my bidding!' and i, the tinselled slave, bow my head to the neck of my steed, and the empire rings with the tramp of my squadrons, and the praise of scanderbeg's loyalty! pshaw! he calls me his lightning, but he is honored as the invisible jove who hurls it. and i am a castriot! a christian! ay, a christian dog,[ ] indeed, to fawn and lick the hands of one who would despise me were he not afraid of my teeth. he takes my father's lands and gives them to another; and i--i am of too little account to be even told 'thy father is dead.'" scanderbeg paused in the light that streamed through the western window. it was near sunset, and a ruddy gleam shot across the room. "this light comes from the direction of albania, and so there comes a red gleam--blood red--from albania into my soul." he drew the sleeve of the left arm and gazed at a small round spot tattooed just above the elbow--the indelible mark of the janizary. "they that put it there said that by it i should remember my vow to the padishah. and, since i cannot get thee out, my little talisman, i swear by thee that i shall never forget my vow; no, nor them that made my child-lips take it, and taught me to abjure my father's name, my country's faith, and broke my will to the bit and rein of their caprice. it may be that some day i shall wash thee out in damned moslem blood. but hold! that would be treason. scanderbeg a traitor? how they will hiss it from brousa to adrianople; from the lips of vizier and pot-carrier! but is it treason to betray treason? but patience! bide thy time, castriot!" a slight commotion in the court drew the attention of scanderbeg. in a moment the sentry announced: "a courier from his majesty!" the message told that the ottoman forces had been defeated in europe--the noted bashaw, schehadeddin, having been utterly routed by hunyades. the missive called the sultan's "always liege and invincible servant, scanderbeg, to the rescue!" within an hour a splendid suite of officers, mounted on swift and gaily caparisoned steeds, gathered about the great general, and at the raising of the horse-tail upon the spear-head, dashed along the road to the coast of marmora where vessels were in waiting to convey them across to the european side. scanderbeg had but a moment's interview with the dumb captive, sufficient to whisper, "return our salutation to the noble moses goleme; and say that george castriot will honor his confidence better in deeds than he could in words. i know not the future, my brave fellow, and might not tell it if i did, even to ears as deaf as yours. but say to goleme that castriot swears by his beard--by the beard of moses--that brighter days shall come for albania even if they must be flashed from our swords. farewell!" the man fell at the general's feet and embraced them. then rising he raised his hand, "by the beard of moses! let that be the watchword between our people and our rightful prince. brave men scattered from adria to hæmus will listen for that watchword. farewell, sire. by the beard of moses!" scanderbeg summoned a soldier and said sternly, "take this fellow away. he is daft as well as dumb and deaf. yet treat him well. such creatures are the special care of allah. take him to the bosphorus that he may cross over to his kin, the greeks, at constantinople." footnotes: [ ] a title of the sultan. [ ] bashaw; an old name for pasha. [ ] arnaout; turkish for albanian, a corruption of the old byzantine word arvanitæ. [ ] koran, chap. ii. [ ] iscander-beg; or the lord alexander. [ ] giaours; a term of reproach by which the turks designate the unbelievers in mahomet, especially christians. [ ] of the hegira; of the christian era. [ ] sanjak; a military and administrative authority giving the possessor command of , horse. [ ] the moslems are allowed four wives. beyond this number their women can be only concubines. [ ] the moslems call christians dogs. chapter ii. a little hamlet lay, like an eagle's nest, high on the southern slope of the balkan mountains. the half dozen huts of which it consisted were made of rough stones, daubed within and without thick with clay. the roofs were of logs, overlaid with mats of brushwood woven together by flexible withes, and plastered heavily. the inhabitants were goatherds. their lives were simple. if they were denied indulgence in luxuries, they were also removed from that contact with them which excites desire, and so were contented. they seldom saw the faces of any from the great world, upon so large a portion of which they looked down. their absorbing occupation was in summer to watch the flocks which strolled far away among the cliffs, and in winter to keep them close to the hamlet, for then terrific storms swept the mountains and filled the ravines with impassable snow. milosch and his good wife, helena--maika helena, good mother helena, all the hamlet called her--were blessed with two boys. their faces were as bright as the sky in which, from their lofty lodgings, they might be said to have made their morning ablutions for the eleven and twelve years of their respective lives. yet they were not children of the cherubic type; rather tough little knots of humanity, with big bullet-heads thatched over with heavy growths of hair, which would have been red, had it not been bleached to a light yellow by sunshine and cloud-mists. instead of the toys and indolent pastimes of the nursery they had only the steep rocks, the thick copse, the gnarled trees, and the wild game of the mountains for their play-things. they thus developed compactly knit muscles, depth of lung and thickness of frame, which gave agility and endurance. at the same time, the associations of their daily lives, the precipitous cliff, the trembling edge of the avalanche, the caves of strange beasts, the wild roaring of the winds, the awful grandeur of the storms, the impressive solitude which filled the intervals of their play like untranslatable but mighty whispers from the unknown world taking the place of the prattle of this,--these fostered intrepidity, self-reliance, and balance of disposition, if not of character. for religious discipline they had the occasional ministrations of a greek priest or missionary monk from the rilo monastir, many leagues to the west of them. they knew the creed of nicæa, the names of some of the saints; but of truly divine things they had only such impressions as they caught from the great vault of the universal temple above them, and from the suggestions of living nature at their feet. by the side of milosch's house ran--or rather climbed and tumbled, so steep was it--that road over the balkans, through the pass of slatiza, by which alexander the great, nearly two thousand years before, had burst upon the moesians. again, within their father's memory, bajazet, the "turkish lightning" as he was called because of the celerity of his movements, had flashed his arms through this pass, and sent the bolts of death down upon wallachia, and poured terror even to the distant gates of vienna. often had milosch rehearsed the story of the terrible days when he himself had been a soldier in the army of the wallachian prince myrtche; and showed the scar of the cut he had received from the cimeter of a turkish janizary, whom he slew not far from the site of their home. their neighbor, kabilovitsch, a man well weighted with years, not only listened to these tales, but added marvellous ones of his own; sometimes relating to the wars of king sigismund of hungary, who, after prince myrtche, had tried to regain this country from the cruel rule of the moslems; more frequently, however, his stories were of exploits of anonymous heroes. these were told with so much enthusiasm as to create the belief that the narrator had himself been the actor in most of them. for kabilovitsch was a strange character in the little settlement; though not the less confided in because of the mystery of his previous life. he had come to this out-of-the-way place, as he said, to escape with his little daughter the incessant raids and counter-raids of turks and christians, which kept the adjacent country in alarm. good uncle kabilovitsch--as all the children of the hamlet called him--named his daughter, a lass of ten summers, morsinia, after the famous peasant beauty, elizabeth morsiney, who had so fascinated king sigismund. morsinia often braided her hair, and sat beneath her canopy of blossoming laurel, while constantine, the younger of milosch's boys, dismounted from the back of his trained goat at the mimic threshold, and wooed her on bended knee, as the good king wooed the beautiful peasant. michael, the elder boy, was not less ardent, though less poetic, in the display of his passion for morsinia. a necklace of bear's claws cut with his own hand from a monster beast his father had killed; a crown made of porcupine quills which he had picked up among the rocks; anklets of striped snake skin--these were the pledges of his love, which he declared he would one day redeem with those made of gems and gold--that is, when he should have become a princely warrior. to constantine, however, the little maiden was most gracious. it was a custom in the balkan villages for the young people, on the monday after easter, to twist together bunches of evergreens, and for each young swain to kiss through the loops the maid he loved the best. with adults this was regarded as a probationary agreement to marry. if the affection were mutually as full flamed the following easter, the kiss through the loop was the formal betrothal. constantine's impatience wreathed the evergreens almost daily, and, as every kiss stood for a year, there was awaiting them--if the good fairies would only make it true--some centuries of nuptial bliss. the little lover had built for himself a booth against the steep rocks. into this morsinia would enter with bread and water, and placing them upon the stone which answered for a table, say, in imitation of older maidens assuming the care of husbands, "so will i always and faithfully provide for thee." then she would touch the sides of the miniature house with a twig, which she called her distaff, saying, "i will weave for thee, my lord, goodly garments and gay." she would also sit down and undress and redress her doll, which constantine had carved from wood, and which they said would do for the real baby that the bride was expected to array, in the ceremony by which she acknowledged the obligations of wifehood.[ ] but michael was not at all disconsolate at this preference shown his brother; for he knew that morsinia would prefer him to all the world when she heard what a great soldier he had become. indeed, on some days michael was lord of the little booth; and more than once the fair enchantress put the evergreen loop around both the boys in as sincere indecision as has sometimes vexed older hearts than hers. footnote: [ ] these are still servian customs. chapter iii. in the winter of --a few months subsequent to the events with which our story begins--the pass of slatiza echoed other sounds than the cry of the eagle, the bleating of the flocks, and the songs and halloos of the mountaineers. distant bugle calls floated between the cliffs. at night a fire would flash from a peak, and be suddenly extinguished, as another gleamed from a peak beyond. strange men had gone up and down the road. with one of these uncle kabilovitsch had wandered off, and been absent several days. great was the excitement of the little folks when milosch told them that a real army was not far off, coming from the christian country to the north of them, and that its general was no other than the great hunyades, the white knight of wallachia--called so because he wore white armor--the son of that same king sigismund and the fair elizabeth morsiney. how little morsinia's cheeks paled, while those of the boys burned, and their eyes flashed, as their father told them, by the fire-light in the centre of their cabin, that the white knight had already conquered the turks at hermanstadt and at vasag and on the banks of the morava, and was--if the story which milosch had heard from some scouts were true--preparing to burst through the balkan mountains, and descend upon the homes of the turk on the southern plains. little did they sleep at night, in the excitement of the belief that, at any day, they might see the soldiers--real soldiers, just like those of alexander, and those of bajazet--tramping through the pass. the tremor of the earth, occasioned by some distant landslide, in their excited imagination was thought to be due to the tramp of a myriad feet. the hoot of the owl became the trumpet call for the onset: and the sharp whistle of the wind, between leafless trees and along the ice-covered rocks, seemed like the whizzing flight of the souls of the slain. once, just as the gray dawn appeared, kabilovitsch, who had been absent for several days, came hurriedly with the alarming news that the turks, steadily retiring before the christians, would soon occupy the pass. they were already coming up the defiles, as the mists rise along the sides of the mountains, in dense masses, hoping to gain such vantage ground that they could hurl the troops of hunyades down the almost perpendicular slopes before they could effect a secure lodgment on the summit. the children and women must leave herds and homes, and fly instantly. the only safe retreat was the great cave, which the mountaineers knew of, lying off towards the other pass, that of soulourderbend. the fugitives were scarcely gone when the mountain swarmed with moslems. the mighty mass of humanity crowded the cliffs like bees preparing to swarm. they fringed the breastworks of native rock with abattis made of huge trunks of trees. during the day the turks had diverted a mountain stream, so that, leaving its bed, it poured a thin sheet of water over the steepest part of the road the christians were to ascend. this, freezing during the night, made a wall of ice. the christians were thus forced to leave the highway and attempt to scale the crags far and near; a movement which the turks met by spreading themselves everywhere above them. upon ledges and into crevices which had never before felt the pressure of human feet clambered the contestants. every rock was empurpled with gore. turkish turban and hungarian helmet were caught upon the same thorny bush; while the heads which had worn them rolled together in the same gully, and stared their deathless hatred from their dead eyes. the turks in falling back discovered the mouth of the cave in which the peasants had taken refuge. as the moslem bugles sounded the retreat, lest they should be cut off by the christians who had scaled the heights on their flanks, they seized the women and children, who soon were lost to each other's sight in the skurry of the retiring host. the hands of constantine were tied about the neck, and his legs about the loins, of a huge moslem, to whose keeping he had been committed. an arrow pierced the soldier to the heart. it seemed as if more than keenness of eye--some inspiration of his fatherly instinct--led kabilovitsch on through the vast confusion, far down the slope, outrunning the fugitives and their pursuers, avoiding contact with any one by leaping from rock to rock and darting like a serpent through secret by-paths, until he reached the horsemen of the turks, who had not been able to follow the foot-soldiers up the steep ascent. he knew that his little girl would be given in charge to some one of these. he, therefore, concealed himself in the growing darkness behind a clump of evergreen trees, close to which one must pass in order to reach the horses. a moment later, with the stealth and the strength of a panther, he leaped upon a turk. the man let go the tiny form of the girl he was carrying; but, before he could assume an attitude of defence, the iron grip of kabilovitsch was upon his throat, and the steel of the infuriated old man in his heart. under the sheltering darkness, carrying his rescued child, kabilovitsch threaded his way along ledges and balconies of rock projecting so slightly from the precipitous mountain that they would have been discerned, even in daylight, by no eye less expert than his own. at one place his way was blocked by a dead body which had fallen from the ledge above, and been caught by the tangled limbs of the mountain laurel. without relinquishing his load, he pushed with his foot the lifeless mass down through the entanglement, and listened to the snapping of the bushes and the crashing of loosened stones, until the heavy thud announced that it had found a resting place. "so god rest his soul, be he christian or paynim!" muttered the old man. "and now, my child, are you frighted?" "no, father, not when you are with me," said morsinia. "could you stand close to the rock, and hold very tight to the bush, if i leave you a moment?" "yes, father, i will hold to the bush as tight as it holds to the rock." kabilovitsch grasped a root of laurel, and, testing it with main strength, swung clear of the ledge, until his foot rested upon another ledge nearly the length of his body below. bracing himself so that he spanned the interval with the strength of a granite pillar, he bade the child crawl cautiously in the direction of his voice. as she touched his hands, he lifted her with perfect poise, and placed her feet beside his own on a broad table rock. "now, blessed be jesu, we are safe! did i not tell you i would some day take you to a cavern which no one but milosch and i had ever seen? here it is. unless sultan amurath hires the eagles to be his spies--as they say he does--no eye but god's will see us here even when the sun rises. you did not know, my little princess, what a coward your old father had become, to run away from a battle. did you, my darling?" said he kissing her. "never did i dream that ar----, that kabilovitsch would fly like a frightened partridge through the bushes. but my girl's heart has taken the place of my own to-night." as he spoke he slipped from his shoulders the rough cape, or armless jacket, of bear-skin, and wrapped the girl closely in it. he then carried her beneath the roof of a little cave, where he enfolded her in his arms, making his own back a barrier against the cutting night wind and the whirling snow. the cold was intense. thinking only of the danger to the already half-benumbed and wearied body of the child, he took off his conical cap, and unwound the many folds of coarse woollen cloth of which it was made, and with it wrapped her limbs and feet. thus the night was passed. with the first streak of the dawn kabilovitsch crept cautiously from the ledge, and soon returned with the news that the turks had vanished, swept away by the tide of christian soldiers which was still pouring over and down the mountain in pursuit. horrible was the scene which everywhere greeted them as they clambered back toward the road. the dead were piled upon the dying in every ravine. red streaks seamed the white snow--channels in which the current of many a life had drained away. the road was choked with the hurrying victors. but the old man's familiarity with the ground found paths which the nimble feet of the maid could climb; so that the day was not far advanced when they stood on the site of their home. scarcely a trace of the little hamlet remained. whatever could be burned had fed the camp-fires of the preceding night. the houses had been thrown down by the soldiers in rifling the grain bins which were built between their outer and inner walls. the old man sat down upon the door-stone of what had been his home. his head dropped upon his bosom. morsinia stood by his side, her arm about his neck, and her cheek pressed close to his, so that her bright golden hair mingled with his gray beard--as in certain mediæval pictures the artist expresses a pleasing fancy in hammered work of silver and gold. they scarcely noticed that a group of horsemen, more gaily uniformed than the ordinary soldiers, had halted and were looking at them. "by the eleven thousand virgins of coln! i never saw a more unique picture than that," said one who wore a skull cap of scarlet, while an attendant carried his heavy helmet. "if masaccio were with us i would have him paint that scene for our new cathedral at milano, as an allegory of the captivity in babylon." "rather of the captivity in avignon. it would be a capital representation of the holy father and his daughter the church," replied a companion laughing. "only i would have the painter insert the portrait of your eminence, cardinal julian, as delivering them both." "that would not be altogether unhistoric; for the deliverance was not wholly wrought until our time," replied the cardinal, evidently gratified with the flattering addition which his comrade, king vladislaus, had made to his pleasing conceit. "but if to-day's victory be as thorough as it now looks, and we drive the turks out of europe, it would serve as a picture of the captivity in which the haughty, half-infidel emperor of the greeks and his daughter, byzantium, will soon be to rome." "but, by my crown," said vladislaus, "and with due reverence for the great cardinal under whose cap is all the brain that rome can now boast of--i think the greeks will find as much spiritual desolation in mother church as these worthy people have about them here." "i can pardon that speech to the newly baptized king of half-barbarian hungary, when i would not shrive another for it," replied julian petulantly. "the son of a pagan may be allowed much ignorance regarding the mystery of the holy see. but a truce to our badgering! let us speak to this old fellow. good man, is this your house? by saint catherine! the girl is beautiful, your highness." "it was my home, sire, yesterday, but now it is his that wants it," replied kabilovitsch. "and where do you go now?" asked the cardinal. "towards god's gate, sire; and i wish i might see it soon, but for this little one," said the old man, rising. "holy peter let you in when you get there," rejoined his eminence, turning his horse away. "hold! cardinal," replied the king. "i am surprised at that speech from you. you have tried to teach me by lectures for a fortnight past that rome has temporal as well as spiritual authority, all power on earth as well as in heaven. now, by our lady! you ought to help this good man over his earthly way towards god's gate, as well as wish him luck when he gets there. but the priest preaches, and leaves the laity to do the duties of religion. credit me with a good christian deed to balance the many bad ones you remember against me, cardinal, and i will help the man. the golden hair of the child against the old man's head were as good an aureole as ever a saint wore. and that holy peter knows, if the cardinal does not. ho, olgard! take the lass on the saddle with you. and, old man, if you will keep close with your daughter, you will find as good provision behind the gate of philippopolis as that in heaven, if report be true. and, by saint michael! if we go dashing down the mountain at this rate we will vault the walls of that rich moslem town as easily as the devil jumped the gate of paradise." kabilovitsch trudged by the side of olgard, who held morsinia before him. it was hard for the old man to keep from under the hoofs of the horses as the attendant knights crowded together down the narrow and tortuous descent. suddenly the girl uttered a cry, and, clapping her hands, called, "constantine, constantine!" the missing lad, emerging from a copse, stood for an instant in amazement at the apparition of his little playmate; then dashed among the crowd toward her. "drat the witch!" said a knight--between the legs of whose horse the boy had gone--aiming at him a blow with his iron mace. constantine would have been trampled by the crowding cavalcade, had not the strong hand of a trooper seized him by his ragged jacket and lifted him to the horse's crupper. "so may somebody save my own lad in the mountains of carpathia!" said the rough, but kindly soldier. "ay, the angels will bear him up in their hands, lest he even dash his foot against a stone, for thy good deed," exclaimed a monk, who, with hood thrown back, and almost breathless with the effort to rescue the lad himself, had reached him at the same moment. "good father, pray for me!" said the trooper, crossing himself. "ay, with grace," replied the monk, extricating himself from the crowd, and hasting back to the side of a wounded man, whom his comrades were carrying on a stretcher which had been extemporized with an old cloak tied securely between two stout saplings. as night darkened down, the plain at the base of the mountain burst into weird magnificence with a thousand campfires. the turks were in full retreat toward adrianople, and joy reigned among the christians. it was the eve of christmas. the stars shone with rare brilliancy through the cold clear atmosphere. "the very heavens return the salutation of our beacons," said king vladislaus. a trumpet sounded its shrill and jubilant note, which was caught up by others, until the woods and fields and the mountain sides were flooded with the inarticulate song, as quickly as the first note of a bird awakens the whole matin chorus of the summer time. cardinal julian, reining his horse at the entrance to the camp, listened as he gazed-- "'and with the angel there was a multitude of the heavenly host praising god!' let us accept the joy of this eve of the birth of our lord as an omen of the birth of christian power to these lands, which have so long lain in the shadow of moslem infidelity and greek heresy. our camps yonder flash as the sparks which flew from the apron of the infant jesu and terrified the devil.[ ] sultan amurath has been scorched this day, though the infernal fiend lodge in his skin, as i verily believe he does." "amurath was not in personal command to-day. at least so i am told," replied vladislaus. "he is occupied with a rebellion of the caramanians in asia. carambey, the sultan's sister's husband, led the forces at the beginning of the fight. he was captured in the bog, and is now in safe custody with the servian despot, george brankovich. hunyades and the despot have been bargaining for his possession. but the real commandant, as i have learned from prisoners--at least he was present at the beginning of the fight--was scanderbeg." "scanderbeg?" exclaimed julian with great alarm. "what! the albanian traitor, castriot?--iscariot, rather, should be his name--this then, your majesty, is no night for revelry; but for watching. the flight of the enemy, if scanderbeg leads them, is only to draw us into a net. what if before morning, with the balkans behind us, we should be assaulted with fresh corps of turks on the front? there is no fathoming the devices of scanderbeg's wily brain. and never yet has he been defeated, except to wrest the better victory out of seeming disaster. does general hunyades know the antagonist he is dealing with? that it is not some bey or pasha, nor even the sultan himself, but scanderbeg? i have heard hunyades say that since the days of saladin, the moslems have not had a leader so skilful as that albanian renegade: that a glance of his eye has more sagacity in it than the deliberations of a divan:[ ] and that not a score of knights could stand against his bare arm. we must see hunyades." "i confess," replied king vladislaus, "that i liked not the easy victory we have had. i would have sworn to prevent a myriad foes climbing the ice road we travelled yesterday, if i had but a company of pikemen; yet ten thousand turkish veterans kept us not back; and they were led by scanderbeg! there is mystery here. jesu prevent it should be the mystery of death to us all! let's to hunyades! if only your wisdom or prayers, cardinal, could reclaim scanderbeg to his christian allegiance, i would not fear sultan amurath, though he were the devil's pope, with the keys of death and hell in his girdle." hunyades was found with the advance corps of the christians. but for his white armor he could scarcely be distinguished from some subaltern officer, as he moved among the men, inspecting the details of their encampment. the contrast of the commander-in-chief with the kingly and the ecclesiastical soldier was striking. he listened quietly to their surmises and fears, and replied with as little of their excitement as if he spoke of a new armor-cleaner: "yes! we shall probably have a raid from scanderbeg before morning. but we are ready for him. do you look well to the rear, king vladislaus! and do you, cardinal, marshal a host of fresh latin prayers for the dying; for, if scanderbeg gets among your italians, their saffron skins will bleach into ghosts for fright of him." the cardinal's face grew as red as his cap, as he replied: "but for loyalty to our common christian cause, and the example of subordination to our chief, i would answer that taunt as it deserves." footnotes: [ ] vide apochryphal gospels. [ ] divan; the turkish council of state. chapter iv. the company which kabilovitsch and the children had joined was halted at the edge of the great camp. other peasants and non-combatants crowded in from their desolated homes; but neither milosch's face, nor helena's, nor yet little michael's, were among those they anxiously scanned. the command of king vladislaus secured for the three favored refugees every comfort which the rude soldiers could furnish. the boy and girl were soon asleep by a fire, while the old man lay close beside them, that no one could approach without arousing him. he, however, could not sleep. on the one side was the noisy revelry of the victors; on the other, the darkness of the plain. here and there were groups of soldiers, and beyond them an occasional gleam of the spear-head of some sentinel, who, saluting his comrade, turned at the end of his beat. the dusky form of a huge man attracted kabilovitsch's eye. as the stranger drew near, his long bear-skin cape terminating above in a rough and ungraceful hood, and his long pointed shoes with blocks of wood for their soles, indicated that he was some peasant. he seemed to be wandering about with no other aim than to keep himself warm. yet kabilovitsch noted that he lingered as he passed by the various groups, as if to scan the faces of his fellow-sufferers. "heaven grant that all his kids be safe to-night!" muttered the old man. as the walking figure passed across the line of a fagot fire, he revealed a splendid form; too straight for one accustomed to bend at his daily toil. "a mountaineer? a hunter?" thought kabilovitsch, "for the field-tillers are all round of shoulder, and bow-backed. but no! his tread is too firm and heavy for that sort of life. one's limbs are springy, agile, who climbs the crags. a hunter will use the toes more in stepping." kabilovitsch's curiosity could not keep his eyes from growing heavy with the cold and the flicker of the fire light, when they were forced wide open again by the approach of the stranger. the old man felt, rather than saw, that he was being closely studied from behind the folds of the hood which the wanderer drew close over his face, to keep out the cutting wind which swept in gusts down from the mountains. he passed very near, and was talking to himself, as is apt to be the custom of men who lead lonely lives. "it is bitter cold," he said, with chattering teeth, "bitter cold, by the beard of moses!" the last words startled kabilovitsch so that he gave a sudden motion. the stranger noticed it and paused. gazing intently upon the old man, who had now assumed a sitting posture, he addressed him-- "by the beard of moses! it's an awful night, neighbor." "ay, by the beard of moses! it is; and one could wear the beard of aaron, too, with comfort--aaron's beard was longer than moses' beard; is not that what the priest says?" said kabilovitsch, veiling his excitement under forced indifference of manner, at the same time making room for the visitor, who, without ceremony stretched himself by his side, bringing his face close to that of the old man, and glaring into it. kabilovitsch returned his gaze with equal sharpness. "what know you of the beard of moses?" said the stranger. "was it gray or black?" "black," said kabilovitsch, studying the other's face with suspicion and surprise. "black as an albanian thunder cloud, and his eye was as undimmed by age as that of the eagle that flies over the lake of ochrida."[ ] "you speak well," replied the stranger, pushing back his hood. his face was massive and strong. no peasant was he, but one born to command and accustomed to it. "you are----drakul?" asked the man. "no." "harion?" "no." "kabilovitsch?" "ay, and you?" "castriot." kabilovitsch sprang to his feet. "lie down! lie down! let me share your blanket," said the visitor. "this air is too crisp and resonant for us to speak aloud in it; and waking ears at night-time are over quick to hear what does not concern them. we can muffle our speech beneath the blanket." kabilovitsch felt the hesitation of reverence in assuming a proximity of such intimacy with his guest; but also felt the authority of the command and the wisdom of the precaution. he obeyed. "i feared that i should find no one who recognized our password. i must see general hunyades to-night; yet must not approach his quarters. can you get to his tent?" "readily," said kabilovitsch. "during the day my little lass yonder won the attention of king vladislaus, and he gave me the password of the camp to-night for her safety. '_christus natus est_'." "you must go to him at once, and say that i would see him here. you will trust me to keep guard over these two kids while you are away? i will not wolf them." "heaven grant that you may shepherd all albania,"--and the old man was off. "i knew that the prodigal prince george would come back some day," said he to himself. "many a year have i kept my watch in the pass, and among the mountains of albania. and many a service have i rendered as a simple goatherd which i could not have done had i worn my country's colors anywhere except in my heart. and, 'by the beard of moses!' during some weeks now i have carried many a message, had some fighting and hard scratching which i did not understand, except that it was 'by the beard of moses!' and now moses has come; refused at last to be called the son of pharaoh's daughter, and will free his people. god will it! and george castriot has lain under my blanket! i will hang that blanket in the church at croia as an offering to the holy virgin.--but no, it belongs to the trooper. heaven keep me discreet, or, for the joy of it, i cannot do my errand safely. i'll draw my hood close, lest the moon yonder should guess my secret." kabilovitsch was challenged at every turn as he wound between the hundreds of camp-fires and tents; but the magic words, "christus natus est," opened the way. a circle of splendid tents told him he drew near to headquarters. in the midst of them blazed an immense fire. camp-tables, gleaming with tankards and goblets of silver, were ranged beneath gorgeous canopies of flaxen canvas, which were lined with blue and purple tapestries. a multitude of gaily dressed servitors thronged into and out of them. here was the royal splendor of hungary and poland; there the pavilion of the despot of servia; there the glittering cross of rome; and, at the extreme end of this extemporized array of palatial and courtly pride, the more modest, but still rich, banner of the white knight. kabilovitsch approached the latter. "your errand, man?" said the guard, holding his spear across the flapping doorway of the tent. "christus natus est!" was the response. "that will do elsewhere, but not here," rejoined the guard. "my business is solely with general hunyades," said kabilovitsch. "it cannot be," said the spearman. "he has no business with any one but himself. if you are a shepherd of bethlehem come to adore the infant jesu--as you look to be--you must wait until the morning." "my message is as important to him as that of the angels on that blessed night," said the goatherd, making a deep obeisance and looking up to heaven as if in prayer, as he spoke. "then proclaim your message, old crook-staff! we have had glad tidings to-day, but can endure to hear more," said the guard, pushing him away. "no ear on earth shall hear mine but the general's," cried the old man, raising his voice: "no! by the beard of moses! it shall not." "a strange swear that, old leather-skin! did you keep your sheep in midian, where moses did, that you know he had a beard. your cloak is ragged enough to have belonged to father jethro; and i warrant it is as full of vermin as were those of the egyptians after the plague that moses sent on them. but the ten plagues take you! get away!" "no, by the beard of moses!" shouted kabilovitsch. "let him pass!" said a voice from deep within the tent. "let him pass!" said another nearer. "let him pass!" repeated one just inside the outer curtain. the goatherd passed between a line of sentinels, closely watched by each. the tent was a double one, composing a room or pavilion, enclosed by the great tent; so that there was a large space around the private apartment of the general, allowing the sentinels to patrol entirely about it without passing into the outer air. at the entrance of the inner tent hunyades appeared. he was of light build but compactly knit, with ample forehead and generous, but scarred face; which, however, was more significantly seamed with the lines that denote thought and courage. he was wrapped in a loose robe of costly furs. he waved his hand for kabilovitsch to enter, and bade the guards retire. throwing himself on a plain soldier's couch, he drew close to it a camp seat, and motioned his visitor to sit. "you have news from the albanians, by the beard of moses?" said hunyades inquiringly. a moment or two sufficed for the delivery of kabilovitsch's message. "ho, guard! when this old man goes, let no one enter until he comes back; then admit him without the pass, instantly," said hunyades, springing from the couch. "now, old man, give me your bear skin--now your shoes--your cap. here, wrap yourself in mine. you need not shrink from occupying hunyades' skin for a while, since you have had to-night a more princely soldier under your blanket. did you say to the north? on the edge of the camp? a boy and a girl by the fire; and he?" the disguised general passed out. footnote: [ ] a lake in albania. chapter v. "by the beard of moses! i'll break your head with my stick if you come stumbling over me in that way," growled scanderbeg from beneath his blanket, as a peasant-clad man tripped against his huge form extended by the camp fire. "then let the cold shrink your hulk to its proper size," replied the stranger. "but you should thank me, instead of cursing me, for waking you up; for your fire is dying out, and you would perish, sleeping in the blanket that exposes your feet that it may cover your nose. but i'll stir your fire and put some sticks on it, if i may sit by it and melt the frost from my beard and the aches from my toes. but whom have you here?" the man stooped down and eagerly removed the blanket from the partially covered faces of the children. "constantine!" he exclaimed, "god be praised! and kabilovitsch's girl,--or the starlight mocks me!" "father!" cried the boy, waking and throwing his arms about the neck of the man who stooped to embrace him. "and michael? is he here, too?" asked milosch. "no, father," said the child. "we were parted at the cave, and i have not seen him except in my dream." "in your dream, my child? in your dream? jesu grant he be not killed, that his angel spirit came to you in your dream! did he seem bright and beautiful--more beautiful than you ever saw him before--as if he had come to you from paradise? no? then he is living yet on the earth; and by all the devils in hell and adrianople! i shall find him, though i tear him from the dead arms of the traitor castriot himself, as i was near to taking you, my boy, from the grip of the turk whose heart i pierced with an arrow the day of the fight;--but i was set upon and nigh killed myself by a score of the infidels." "and our mother dear?" asked constantine. "she is safe?" "ay! ay! safe in heaven, i fear, but we will not give up hope until we have searched our camps to-morrow; nor then, until we have burned every seraglio of the turks from the mountains to the sea. but who brought you and the lass here?" asked milosch, eyeing the form of the surly man beside him. "why, good uncle kabilovitsch did," said the boy, staring in amazement at the spot now usurped by the strange figure of scanderbeg. "kabilovitsch went to fetch some fire-peat from the gully i told him of," muttered scanderbeg. "yes, he is coming yonder," said milosch, as kabilovitsch's well-known hood and cape were outlined against the white background of a snow-covered fir tree a short distance off. "but he has found no fuel. wrap close, my hearties: you will have no more blaze to-night. ha! kabilovitsch!" said he, raising his voice, as the familiar form seemed about to pass by. "has the fire in your eye been put out by the cold, that you cannot find your own place, neighbor? i would have sworn that, if kabilovitsch were blind, he could find a lost kid on the mountains; and now he hardly knows his own nest." the assumed kabilovitsch came near, and gave an awkward salute, which, while intended to be familiar, was not sufficiently unlimbered of the habit of authority to avoid giving the impression that its familiarity was only assumed. "by the beard of moses! i had almost mistook my own camp, now the fires are smouldering," said he, approaching. "he is not kabilovitsch," said milosch, half to himself and half aloud. "no," replied scanderbeg. "but i'll go and find kabilovitsch. perhaps he has more peat than he can carry. and, stranger, i'll help you find what you are seeking--for you seem daft with the cold--if you will help me find him i am to look for. by the beard of moses! that's a fair agreement; is it not?" "a strange swear, that!" said milosch, looking after the two forms vanishing among the fir trees. "it is some watchword, and i like it not among these camp prowlers. i fear for kabilovitsch. the newcomer wore his clothes, which i would know if i saw them on the back of the cardinal; for good helena cut the hood for our neighbor as she cut the skirt for his motherless child, little morsinia there. some mischief is brewing. i shall watch and not sleep a wink." had one been lurking in the copse of evergreens to which the men withdrew, he would have overheard conversation of which these sentences are parts. "yes, general hunyades, the time has come. i can endure the service of the sultan no longer. but for what i am about to do i alone am responsible, and must decline to share that responsibility with any other, either moslem or christian. i believe, sire, that i am in this directed by some higher power than my own caprice. i am compelled to it by invisible forces, as really as the stars are dragged by them through the sky yonder." "no star," replied hunyades, "has purer lustre than that of your noble purpose, and none are led by the invisible forces to a brighter destiny than is scanderbeg." "let not your christian lips call me scanderbeg, but castriot," said his companion. "yes, i believe that my new purpose comes from the inbreathing of some celestial spirit, from some mysterious hearing the soul has of the inarticulate voice of god. else why should the thought of it so strangely satisfy me? i cast myself down from the highest pinnacle of honor and power and riches with which the moslem service can reward one;--for i am at the head of the army, and even the vizier has not more respect at adrianople than have i wherever the soldiers of the sultan spread themselves throughout the world. to leave the padishah will be to leave every thing for an uncertain future. yet i am more than content to do it." "not for an uncertain future, noble castriot," replied hunyades warmly, grasping his hand. "the highest position in the armies of christian europe is yours. my own chieftaincy i could demit without regret, knowing that it would fall into your hands. the army of italy you can take command of to-morrow if you will; for that scarlet-knobbed coxcomb of an ecclesiastic, julian, is not fitted for it. or brankovitch, the servian despot, will hail you as chief voivode.[ ] you have but to choose from our armies, and put yourself at the head of whatever nation you will: for the legions will follow the pointing of your invincible sword as bravely as if it were the sword of michael, the archangel." "no! no! these things tempt me not," said scanderbeg. "i must live only for albania. that strange spirit which counsels me comes into my soul like a pure blast from off my albanian hills. the voices that call me are like the dying voice of my father, the sainted duke john, who prayed then for his land and for his son--for both in the one breath that floated his soul to god. let me look again upon the rocky fastnesses of the vitzi, the waters of little ochrida and skidar, and call them mine; i shall then not envy even the plume on your helmet, generous hunyades; nor regret what i forsake among the moslems, though my estate were that of the entire empire which the padishah sees in his dreams, when, not the city of adrian, but the city of constantine shall have become his capital." "christendom will hardly forgive the slight you put upon it, noble castriot, by declining some general command, and will soon grow jealous of your exclusive devotion to little albania," said hunyades, with evident candor. "christendom will not lose, but gain, thereby," replied scanderbeg. "for is not albania, after all, a key point in the mighty battle which is still to be waged with the turk over these eastern countries of europe, from adria to the euxine?" "how so?" asked hunyades. "have we not this day broken the power of the turk in europe? and is he not now in headlong haste to the sea of marmora?" scanderbeg replied with slow, but ominous, words: "general hunyades, the moslem power was not this day broken. trust not the semblance. my arm could have hurled your soldiers down the northern declivities of yonder mountains with as much ease as yours shattered the turkish ranks at vasag and hermannstadt. the armies still in front of you wait but the word to assail your camp with dire vengeance for their mysterious defeat--ay, mysterious to them. and the padishah is hasting with the hordes released by his victories over the caramanians, to join them. no, sire, the battle for empire on these plains, and in macedonia, and along the danube, has not ended: it has but just begun. and albania will be the key spot for a generation to come. no ottoman wave can strike central europe but over the albanian hills. a christian power entrenched there will be a counter menace to every invasion from the side of the moslem, and a tremendous auxiliary in any movement from the side of christendom. my military judgment concurs with the voice of that spirit which speaks within me, and bids me as a christian to live for albania." "i see in your plan," replied hunyades, "a gleam of that far wisdom that won for you the title of 'the eye of the ottoman,' as your valor made you the 'right hand of the sultan.' while my view of the relative power of the two civilizations now fronting each other on our battle-lines might be different from yours, and i should place the key point in the great field rather on the lower danube than so far to the west, i yet submit my judgment to yours. assign to me my part in the affair you would execute, and, my word as a soldier and a christian, you shall have my help." "nay," replied scanderbeg. "as i said, i can share the responsibility of my action with no one. grave charges will ring against my name. my old comrades will scorn my deed as treacherous. even history will fail to understand me. let me act alone; obeying that strange voice which will justify me, if not before men, at least at the last day of the world's judgment. the moslem has wronged me; outraged my humanity; slit the tongue of my conscience that it should not speak to me of my duty; and tried to put out the eyes of my faith. the divinity bids me avenge myself. but the vengeance is only mine, and god's. no other hand must be stained with the blood of it, least of all thine, noble hunyades. my plan must be all my own. i only ask that, when i have extricated myself from moslem ties, i may have the friendship of hunyades. especially that the way may be left open for my passing through the places now held by your troops, without challenge and delay. all else has been arranged by a handful of faithful albanian patriots." "it shall be as you desire, general castriot. choose your password, and it shall open the way for you though it were through the back door of the vatican." "let then the 'beard of moses' be respected. my trusty albanians are accustomed to it." "good!" replied hunyades. "and i will seal our compact by taking adrianople in honor of the departure of its only defender." "nay," said scanderbeg. "it will not be wise to press upon the capital. every approach is guarded more securely than were those at vienna by the christians. the padishah's engineers are more skilful than any in the land of the frank or german. the new compound of saltpetre and sulphur, of which you hardly know the use, is buried beneath every gate; and a spark will burst it as Ætna or vesuvius.[ ] even the valor of the white knight cannot conquer the soulless element. the black grains never blanch with fear. no panic can divert a stone ball hurled from cannon so that it shall not find the heart of the bravest. i advise that your armies pause awhile with the prestige of having scaled the balkans. in a few months opportunities may have ripened. once i am in albania, sultan amurath shall know that the name of scanderbeg--the lord alexander--was not his, but fate's entitling; for, unless my destiny is misread, the macedonian legions of the great alexander were not swifter than my new macedonian braves shall be. this will encourage the venetians and genoese; and with their navies on the hellespont, the timid palælogus pressing out from his covert of constantinople, and insurrection everywhere from the crimea to peloponnesus, there will not, a generation hence, be left a turban in europe. believe me, general, the turk's grip of nearly a century, since he pinched the continent at gallipoli, cannot be loosened in a day." "to no other than castriot would i yield my judgment; and not to him, but that his words are as convincing as his sword. then so let it be," was the reply of the christian leader. the albanian disappeared. footnotes: [ ] voivode; a servian and albanian term for general. [ ] gunpowder was at this time coming into general use. chapter vi. hunyades, closely muffled in his bear-skin disguise, returned to the camp. "a desperate adventure that of castriot," thought he. "it is well that he permits no voice but his own to speak his plans, and no ear but mine to hear them. "hist! "no; it is but the ice crackling from the balsams. yet who knows what interlopers there may have been? and if the brave scanderbeg may not be hamstrung before he reaches his own camp? the ride will be long and rattling after he enters the turkish lines. will it excite no suspicion? nor his absence? heaven guard the brave heart, for the very mole holes in the ground are the sultan's ears, into which he drinks the secrets of his soldiers. by the way, i must lift the dirty cap from the fellow who called me kabilovitsch at the herdsman's fire; for the messenger who brought me word surely said that only castriot and the two children were there. who may this other one be? i must discover; and if he knows aught he should not, he shall know no more this side of hell-gate, or my dagger's point has grown so honest that it has forgotten the way to a knave's heart." approaching the little group, hunyades went behind them, that, if possible, he might overhear some words before any persons there knew of his presence. milosch had been ill at ease through the continued absence of his friend kabilovitsch, the peculiar action of the strange man who had taken his place beneath the blanket, and the apparition of the one who wore the cap and cape which he thought he could not mistake. there had always been a mystery about kabilovitsch's early life, which their long and close neighborly relations upon the mountain had not enabled him to solve. the girl, he often thought, was of too light a build and too fair featured to be the child of the mountaineer. the story kabilovitsch often told about the early death of the child's mother, milosch's wife never heard without impatience and a shrug of the shoulders. who was the child? could there be any plot to carry her away among persons who knew the secret of her birth? milosch could reach one definite conclusion about the matter, and that was that he ought to guard the child just now. so, with senses made alert by suspicion, he heard the soft footfall of hunyades through the crust-broken snow; and though with head averted, noted his stealthy approach. the caution observed by the stranger made milosch feel certain of the intended treachery. loosening the short sheath-knife, which hung by the ring in its bone handle from his girdle, he grasped it tightly, and with a sudden bound faced the intruder. "your business, man?" said he, eyeing him as a hunter eyes a wolf to anticipate the spring of the brute, that the knife may enter his throat before the fangs strike. "a rude greeting to a neighbor, that," was the quiet reply. "a fair enough greeting to one who wears a neighbor's fleece, and prowls by night about his flock. stop! not a step nearer! or, by the soul of kabilovitsch, whom, for aught i know, you have murdered, i will send you to meet him!" a motion of the stranger toward his weapon was anticipated by the mountaineer, who gripped the intruder with the strength of a bear, pinioning his arms by his sides, and falling with him to the ground. in an instant more, however, the dagger point of his antagonist began to penetrate milosch's thigh. clenching tighter to prevent a more deadly thrust, he felt beneath his opponent's rough outer robe the hard corselet woven with links of iron--not the coarse fabric such as was worn by common soldiers, but the lighter steel-tempered underwear of knights and nobles. "you have murdered another better than yourself, damned villain, and have stolen his shirt. but it shall not save you this time." as he let out these words one by one and breath by breath, milosch worked the knife into such a hold that he could press it into the back of his antagonist. slowly but surely the stout point made its way between the hard links until the man's flesh quivered with the pain. then milosch hissed through his clenched teeth:-- "who are you? if you speak not, you die. if you lie, let the devil shrive your black soul! for i'll send you to him on the knife point. speak!" "i am general hunyades," replied the almost breathless man. the words relieved him from the pressure of the knife, but not from the crunching hug of his captor. "prove it!" hissed milosch. "i have heard that hunyades has a scar on the left side of the neck. uncover your neck!" milosch released hunyades' left hand sufficiently to allow him to reach upward. in an instant the leathern string which bound the bear-skin cape about his neck was broken, the lacings of a velvet jacket loosened, and the fingers of milosch led over the roughened surface of the scarred skin. the herdsman rose to his knees, and kissed the hand of the general. "strike thy dagger into me! for i have raised my hand against the lord's anointed," cried he in shame and fear. "nay, friend," said the chief; "the fault was mine, and yours shall be the reward of the only man who ever conquered hunyades. your name, my good fellow?" "milosch!" "milosch, the goatherd of the pass? i have heard tell of your strength; how you could out-crunch a bear; i believe it. you have been faithful to your absent friend, as you have been severe with me." "but what of my friend kabilovitsch? you surely wear his gear," said milosch. "yes, i borrowed these of a passing stranger--i know not that he be kabilovitsch--with which i might pass disguised among the guards. the owner of this cape and hood is keeping warm in a tent hard by until i return. but whom have you here?" "the lad is mine. the lass is my neighbor's. he calls her morsinia, in honor of your fair mother," replied milosch. "then i must see her face. she should be fair with such a name." as he raised the coarse-knit hood which closely wrapped her, a flicker of the dying fire-light illumined for an instant the features of the child. the uncombed mass of golden hair made a natural pillow in which lay a face unsurpassed in balance of proportion and delicacy of detail by any sculptor's art. her forehead was high and full, but apparently diminished by the wealth of curling locks that nestled upon brow and temples; her nose straight and thin, typically greek; her lips firm, but arched, as with some abiding and happy dream; her skin, purest white, tinged with the glow of youthful health, as the snow on the balkans under the first roseate gleam of the morning sun. "a peasant's child?" asked the general. but without waiting for reply, continued, "no, by the cheek of venus! it took more than one generation of noble culture, high thoughts and purest blood, to mould such a face as that. she was not born in your neighbor's cot on the mountains? will you swear that she was? no? then i will swear that she was not. and the boy? ah!" said he, scanning constantine's face. "i know his stock. he is a sprig of the same rough thorn-tree that came near to tearing me to pieces just now. but his face is gentler than yours. yet, it is a strong one; very bold; broad-thoughted; deep-souled; a sprig that may bear even better fruit than the old one." "heaven grant it may!" said milosch, fervently. "yes, if you will let me transplant it from these barren mountains to the gardens of buda and the banks of the drave, it will get better shelter than you can give it. the boy shall be my protégé for to-night's adventure, if his father will enter my personal service. you see, you gave me so warm a welcome that i am loath to part company with you, my good fellow." "heaven bless you, sire!" replied milosch; "but my heart will cling to these cliffs until i know that my faithful wife and other boy are no longer among them." "i shall give orders that the camp be searched," promised hunyades. "if they live, and have not been carried away by the turks, they must have sought refuge somewhere in the host. farewell! when you will, hunyades shall stand the friend of milosch." the apparent old herdsman returned through the heart of the camp to headquarters. "methinks, comrade, that you bandied words with a greater than you knew, when you teased the old goatherd awhile ago," said a sentinel, thrusting his thumb into the side of the spearman at the entrance to the general's hut. "do you note his mien as he comes yonder? that crumpled old bear skin cannot hide his straight back; nor those shoes, as big as spanish galleons, break the firmness of his tread. if the gust of wind should lift his cape you would see at least a golden cross on his shoulders. you cannot hide a true soldier." the bear-skin passed between the fluttering canvas without challenge. hunyades made a playful salute to kabilovitsch, who rose to meet him. "i found your camp. i have looked into the face of your little daughter." "mary save her!" said the old man with gratified look. "i say i saw your daughter, your _daughter_, you know," said the general again, quizzing kabilovitsch with his eyes. "ay, my daughter! and the virgin mother never sent a fairer child, save jesu himself, to prince or peasant." "come, now," said the general, "tell me, did the holy virgin send this child to prince _or_ peasant?" "why?" said kabilovitsch, "these horny hands should tell thee, sire, that i was not royal born." "but the girl may be, if you were not. is she your child?" "yes, my child, if heaven ever sent one to man." "but, tell me," probed the general, "how did heaven send you the maiden? did the mother bring her, or did the angels drop her at your door? for, if that girl be your child, heaven did not know you even by sight; since it put not a freckle of your dark skin upon her fair face, nor one of your bristles into her hair. the stars are not begotten of storm-clouds; nor do i think she is your daughter." to this the old man replied, more to himself than to his interrogator, "if she is not mine by gift of nature, she is mine by gift of him who is above nature." "i will not steal your secret," said hunyades. "her name has excited my interest in her and her heaven-given or heaven-lent father. she needs better protection than you can give her in the camp. i will send her to headquarters." "i would gratefully put her under your protection for a few days," said kabilovitsch. "my duty takes me away from her for a while; dangerous duty, sire, and if i should fall--" "if kabilovitsch falls, hunyades will be as true father to the lass. have you any special desire regarding her or yourself, my brave man? you have but to name it." "but one, sire," replied kabilovitsch. "that i may see her safely conditioned at once. for it may be that before the day dawns i shall be summoned. i serve a cause as mysterious as the providence which watches over it." "an albanian mystery? they are generally as inscrutable as a thunder cloud; but are revealed when its lightning strikes!" replied hunyades, dismissing the old man, accompanied by two guards, who were commissioned to obey implicitly any orders the herdsman might give regarding the party of refugees by his camp-fire. chapter vii. the christian host prolonged the festival of the nativity from day to day, until the mustering forces of the ottomans summoned them from dangerous inactivity again to the march and the battle. the latter they found at mount cunobizza, where the enemy had massed an enormous force. the christian army, with its splendid corps of hungary, poland, bosnia, servia, wallachia, italy and germany, was not a more magnificent array than that of their moslem opponents. for the most part of the day the field was equally held, but in the afternoon the turkish left seemed to have become inspired with a strange fury. the janizaries, at the time renowned as the best disciplined and most desperate foot-soldiers in the world, were rivalled in celerity and intrepidity, in skilful manoeuvring and the tremendous momentum with which they struck the foe, by other moslem corps; such as the squadrons of cavalry collected from distant military provinces, each under its spahi or fief-holder; and the irregular bashi-bazouks, who seemed to have sprung from the ground in orderly array. their diverse accoutrements, complexions, and movements suggested the hundred arms of some martial briareus, all animated by a single brain. the war cry of "the prophet!" was mingled with that of "iscanderbeg!" in the thickest of the fight appeared the gigantic form of the circumcised albanian, his gaudy armor flashing with jewels,[ ] his right arm bared to the shoulder, his cimeter glancing as the lightning. the italian legions opposite him, upon the christian left, were hurled back again and again from their onslaught, and were pressed mile after mile from the original battle site. hunyades inflicted a compensatory punishment upon the moslem left, shattering its depleted ranks as a battering ram crashes through the tottering walls of a citadel. the chief of the christians saw clearly scanderbeg's plan[ ] to leave the victory in his hands, and at the opportune moment he wheeled his squadrons to the assistance of king vladislaus, thus combining in overwhelming odds against the enemy's centre, which scanderbeg had effectually drained of its proper strength. as soon, however, as it was evident that the christians were the victors, scanderbeg, by superb generalship, interposed the janizaries between the enemy and the turbaned heads that, but for this, were being whirled in full flight from the field. the rout was changed into orderly retreat. hunyades found it impossible to press the pursuit, and muttered, "scanderbeg commands both our armies to-day. we can only take what he is minded to give." at length night looked down upon the camps. few tents were erected. hunyades sat for hours beneath a tree, waiting for he knew not what developments. on the turkish side even the beyler beys, the highest commanders, were content to stretch their limbs with no other canopy than the three horse-tails at the spear-head, the symbol of their rank and authority. far in the rear were the few pavilions of the suite of the grand vizier, who represented the absent sultan amurath. late into the night the vizier sat in counsel with the sultan's reis effendi or chief secretary, to whom was entrusted the seal of the empire. he was enstamping the many despatches which fleetest horsemen carried to distant spahis, summoning them with their reserves to rally for the defence of adrianople. just before the dawn the secretary was left alone. even he, and, in his person, the empire, must catch an hour's sleep before the exciting and exacting duties of the new day. he reclined among his papers. but a summons awakened him: the messenger announcing scanderbeg. the guards withdrew to a respectful distance from the outside of the tent. "do not rise," said the general, gently pressing the secretary back to his reclining posture. "i only need the imperial seal to this order." the secretary scanned the paper with incredulous eyes. it was a firman, or decree of the sultan, passing the government of albania from general sebaly to scanderbeg, with absolute powers, and ordering the commandant of the strong fortress of croia to place all its armament and that of adjacent strongholds in scanderbeg's hand as the viceroy of the sultan. as the secretary lifted his face to utter an inquiry for the relief of his amazement, knowing that the sultan, then absent in asia, could not have ordered such a document, the strong hand of scanderbeg gripped his throat, and his poniard threatened his heart. "the mark!" whispered the assailant. the terrified man tremblingly reached the seal, and pressed it against the wax. the weapon then did its work, and so suddenly that the secretary had no time for even an outcry. then silently, so that the guards, who were but a few paces distant, heard no commotion, he laid the lifeless form on the divan, and covered it with the embroidered cloak it had worn when living.[ ] passing out, scanderbeg gave orders that the tent should not be entered by the guards until morning, that the secretary might rest. he gave the password, "the kaaba," as sharply as if his lips would take vengeance on the once sacred, but now hated sound. his military staff joined him at a little distance. vaulting into the saddle he led the way toward the north. at the edge of the camp by a rude bridge he halted, and said to his attendants, "i meet at this point the beyler bey of anatolia, whose staff will be my escort to his camp. the padishah's cause needs closest conference of all the commanders; for treason is abroad. ah! i hear the escort. return to quarters, gentlemen!" riding forward alone in the direction of the noise, he cried, "who comes?" "the kaaba at mecca," was the response. "well, if the kaaba takes the trouble to come to me it is a good omen, by the beard of moses!" "by the beard of moses!" murmured a group of horsemen, bowing their turbaned heads in the first gray light of the approaching day. the cavalcade closed around the fugitive chieftain, and moved along in silence, except to respond to the sentinels. as they passed the extreme picket of the turks they halted. a wardrobe had been secreted in a cave beyond a copse near the road. dismounting, the men exchanged their turbans for caps of wolf or beaver skin. their gaily trimmed jackets, such as were worn by the turkish foot-soldiers, gave place to short fur sacks. their flowing, bag-bottomed trousers were kicked off, leaving abbreviated breeches of leather. in a few moments the splendidly uniformed suite of a moslem bey was transformed into a rough, but exceedingly unique-looking, band of albanian guerillas. scanderbeg assumed a helmet, the summit of which carried as a device the head and shoulders of a goat--since the times of alexander the great the symbol of the powers in, or bordering upon, macedonia. the turkish uniforms were bundled upon the cruppers for future use. the men stood for a moment, each by the side of his horse. at a motion of the officer in charge they gave the salute; touching their bared foreheads, and bowing to the ground. the officer then approached scanderbeg, and, presenting his sword, said: "sire! to thee, as the son of our duke john, we give our swords together with our hearts and our lives." instantly every sword was laid upon the ground; and the crisp air rattled with the cry, "long live duke george! a castriot forever!" scanderbeg gazed silently for a moment upon the faithful group. there was no doubt of their loyalty: for they had proved it by an adventure of rare daring in penetrating the turkish camp. the face of the great general, usually masking so completely his strongest feelings, lost now its rigidity. his eyes were moist; his lips trembled; every lineament was eloquent with the emotion he could neither conceal nor tell in words. after a few moments' impressive silence, he returned the sword to the officer, and, pointing westward, cried, "forward to albania!" footnotes: [ ] the old chronicles admit, as one weakness of scanderbeg, a fondness for personal decoration. [ ] the author adds these lines to the meagre details of this battle as known, for the purpose of accounting for its immediate issue, and for the subsequent events. [ ] some historians represent scanderbeg as having had albanian accomplices in this murder. chapter viii. "thank heaven! the plan did not fail," said the chief officer, riding by the side of the fugitive general. "in no particular has it failed, colonel," replied scanderbeg. "and for this every praise is due your wise precautions. i have never known better work of brain or nerve. with such grand soldiers as you and your men, i fear nothing for albania. but your name, colonel?" "moses goleme," replied the officer courteously. scanderbeg reined his horse, and gave him his hand heartily. "a man as grand as he is brave! and do i really look into the face of him whom i was to have sought out in dibria, that i might tell him his words had been to me like a voice from heaven? heaven reward you, good moses! but you must vow to stand by me yet as patiently as you have done hitherto--during my apostasy. i shall need your charity still; for i am but a returning prodigal; a half-christian; a man of strange ways; of a temper which i understand not myself, and which will disappoint you. pledge me that you will be my good angel. counsel me frankly, fearlessly, as a man should always counsel a man. rebuke me freely: but bear with me in your heart, as you would with a child." "i may not advise the most capable general in the world," replied moses goleme. "i vow to obey. let that be my part. as i have already imperilled my estates by open opposition to the turkish rule, and given my life to the liberty of my country, so i offer all to thee, sire, the sovereign of my heart, until you shall be acknowledged the sovereign of albania, and a new empire be founded on the east of the adriatic which shall take the place of the decaying powers of italy on the west." "the task your patriotism proposes is vast," replied scanderbeg; "too vast for one man and one lifetime." "too great for any but the great castriot!" was the answer, evidently as honest as it was reverent. "but you do me too much honor, general, in praising my plan of meeting you. i was ably seconded by my men, and especially by two of them. one of them was wounded." "i trust you speak not of a brave fellow who brought me the time and place of the rendezvous: for i never saw such strength and daring in my life." "the same, i fear," said moses. "a servian, whom i had not known before yesterday. but he was boiling over with rage for the slaughter of his family, and commended to me by our most trusted scout." "did he tell you how he found me out, and communicated your plan to me?" "no, for he was too severely hurt to speak much." "i will tell that part for him, then," said scanderbeg. "it was in the hottest of the fight. my own body-guard was thrown into confusion. a fellow, clad like one of my own staff, crowded close to my side. his horse actually rested against my own, and i would have severed his head from his shoulders for his impudent valor, had not his oath at his beast been 'by the beard of moses!' seeing that i observed it he grunted, 'at the brook to the north!' as he dodged the circles of the cimeters; and 'near the roman road!' he hissed as he pared the cap from a christian's head with his sword; and 'at the ninth hour to-night!' he shouted as he parried a thrust. before i had breathing space--for i was closely beset at the time--he had gone; borne back by a spahi,[ ] who envied him his place and emulated his valor. but he was not skilful in using his weapon or managing his horse. i am grieved, but not surprised, at his receiving hurt. i thought he must have fallen. but who was the other?" "yonder old fellow with a huge green turban on the saddle before him. if his brain were as big as his head-piece, he could not have planned better. he has dwelt about here lately." "i must thank him in person," said scanderbeg, riding back toward him. "what!" he exclaimed as the full daylight fell upon the man's features, "kabilovitsch?" the old man diverted scanderbeg's compliments by an expression of solicitude for milosch, whom he had permitted to undertake the desperate venture already narrated, although until a few days before he, being a servian, had no knowledge of the project of the albanians. "we must haste, sire," said moses. "it is advised that you cross to the north of the pass in the balkans, and take thence the valley way between caratova and the egrisu. a message from general hunyades informs me that relays can be provided along the road, and that every facility shall be given us." "kabilovitsch will accompany us?" asked scanderbeg. "on one condition, sire," replied the old man. "my little daughter must go with me: a lass of ten spring tides--" "impossible! for our ride must be night and day." "then i may follow, but cannot accompany you," said kabilovitsch. "i need such men as you with me. no true albanian will delay for a child. country must be child and mother to us all," said the general. the cheeks of kabilovitsch whitened; his eyes flashed. looking scanderbeg squarely in the face, he said quietly, but putting intention into every word, "george castriot may lead, but may not rebuke the patriots who have watched for albania with sacrifices he knows not of, while he has been among our country's enemies. an old man, thy father's friend before thou wast born, may say that, sire." scanderbeg grew pale in turn. he had been unaccustomed to brook insubordination, however righteous. who had dared to question him? who to fling the taunt into his face? the hot words were upon his lips. but he paused, at first from the mere habit of self-restraint. then, because he was a wise man, and realized that he was no longer the tyrant, with power of life and death over his soldiers--men who had been hired, stolen, impressed into the service, and transformed into mere machinery of flesh and blood--but was to be the public liberator of a people every man of whom was already as free as he. then, he had become a just man. strange and sanguinary as had been the events accompanying his desertion of the turks, he had taken this step only after a deep moral struggle. he had revolted from his own past life; and felt an inward disgrace for what had been his outward glory--the service of the moslem; he despised himself more than any other person could. it was this sense of the justice of kabilovitsch's rebuke that checked the rage which had blanched his face, and sent the flush to his temples, as he slowly, replied, "i bow to the merited chastisement of your words. your years and your better life give you license to utter them. my future shall atone for the past. but cannot your child be left safely where she is?" "she is safe where she is; but i may not leave her without providing for her future. milosch is lying in a cottage but a little before us. if his wounds are not fatal--as i believe they are not, though the leech thought otherwise--i may bring the girl to him, and still overtake you before you come in sight of the black mountains. i can cross this country by paths through which i could not direct you. during many years, for justice's sake and our country's, i have wandered over these mountains where only the eagle's shadow has fallen." "i will stop with you at the cottage," said scanderbeg, "for, though the moments are precious, i would bless the brave fellow for his work yesterday." there were several wounded christian soldiers at the little hovel. a greek monk was administering both spiritual and physical comfort; for rilo monastir had sent its inmates along the track of the christian army in spite of the insults of the latin soldiers, who, though in sight of the common enemy of their faith, could not repress the meanness of their sectarian jealousy and hatred. milosch was doing well. his wounds were, one in the fleshy part of the shoulder, the other a contusion on the head, from a blow which had stunned him. a few weeks would put him again upon his feet, though perhaps his fighting days were over; for the flesh wound lay across an important muscle, and would permanently destroy the strength of the right arm. milosch fell in with the proposition of kabilovitsch regarding morsinia. though a servian, he had lost interest in his own country because of the vacillating course of the despot, george brankovitch, who was half christian and half moslem, according to the policy of the moment. milosch would identify himself with the cause of albania, for which he had already done and suffered so much. the two men entered into what is known among the servians and albanians as "brotherhood in god," covenanting in the name of god and st. john to devote their lives, each to the other, and both to their common cause. the compact was sealed by each putting the left hand upon the other's heart, and holding up the right hand in invocation of the divine witness. kabilovitsch said: "my brother, i commit to thy keeping our daughter, morsinia, thine and mine, from henceforth. she is all i have but life to share with thee, which also i freely give." to this milosch replied: "my brother, i commit to thy keeping our boy, constantine, thine and mine from henceforth. he is all i have that i wot of to share with thee, but my life which--god spare it--i freely give." "bismallah!"[ ] said scanderbeg. "and if the girl and the boy were the ones i saw asleep in each other's arms by the fire the other night, the compact is good for two generations at least." it was agreed that, upon his sufficient recovery, milosch should bring the children from the camp of hunyades to albania. the ride by the vitosh and rilo mountains where the mighty ranges of the balkans, the upper moesian, and the rhodope are thrown close together, was sufficiently grand to engross the eye and mind of the dashing riders. thus most of the day was passed in silence, broken only by the clatter of the horses' hoofs against the rocks; the roar of cascades making their awful plunge hundreds of feet from the precipices; the complaint of rivers far down at the bottom of ravines, fretting beneath the prison roof of ice and snow; and glorious pines, pluming the brow of crag and ledge, through which the everlasting winds breathed the dirge over fallen empires of men. as they forced their way up a long and tedious ascent, scanderbeg joined kabilovitsch and said: "to relieve the tedium of this slow part of the journey you must tell me about that lass you would not leave for the love of albania. a sweet face as i saw it. i could have run off with it myself, had i not other business on hand. and i can pardon a father's heart for clinging very closely to such a child. you will forget my rude speech a while ago. i played with a little lass like that when i was a boy. the face of your child, that night i watched for you, carried me back to those happy days. i could see my little sweet-heart in her; though thirty years have thrown their shadows of dark events across my memory." kabilovitsch turned familiarly to scanderbeg with the query, "may i read your thoughts, sire?" "yes, he is welcome to do so who can find my soul beneath this battered face." "that child was the fair mara, the daughter of the noble george cernoviche, whose castle ruins lie now by the shore of ochrida. am i not right?" "right! but i knew not of the fall of her father's house. can you tell me aught of the history of my little maiden. if she lives, she must be a goodly matron now." "yes, i can tell her story and more. she married the noble musache de streeses, whose castle once stood near the skadar."[ ] "ah! i have heard of his sad fate," replied the general. "oh, for vengeance on these villains who have despoiled the land! musache de streeses was the richest of all the land-owners on the coast of adria, the soul of honor, a genuine patriot, with whom my father held confidential intercourse. his purse and sword were freely offered for service against the turk. it was a favorite scheme of my father to some day unite our families. i hear that my nephew, amesa, has become possessed of those estates, being also nephew to de streeses, who was slain by the turks. but my fairy, mara, you said was married to de streeses. it was she, then, who, with her infant child, was killed by the turks during the raid?" "noble castriot! de streeses and the lady mara were murdered, foully, treacherously," said the old man, reining his horse, and speaking with terrible passion. "oh, to take vengeance!" exclaimed scanderbeg. "by the fair face of mara! this, with the thousand other murders of these years, shall be washed out, if my sword drains a myriad veins of turkish blood to make sure of his who struck so brutal a blow!" "your sword need not search so wide as that," said kabilovitsch. "the family of de streeses were murdered by hands we both know but too well." "how know you, kabilovitsch?" the man removed his cap as if inviting the inspection of his face, and, lowering his voice, replied, "i am not kabilovitsch, i am arnaud." "arnaud, the forester of de streeses? arnaud, whose shoulders i bestrode before i ever mounted a steed?" exclaimed scanderbeg, turning his horse and stopping, but at his companion's motion indicating caution, lowering his tone, and moving close beside him. "the same, sire. and the turks who murdered the nobleman and his beautiful wife were not such turks as you have been accustomed to command. too white of skin and too black of heart were they. i would not say this, but that i give you also my reasons for so grave an accusation. turks in raiding do not discriminate in their depredations; but these harmed not a leaf beyond the castle of de streeses. nor do turks swear by st. john, as i heard one of them do as he cursed a fellow villain for some slip in the plan. nor again would turks, seeking only for plunder, have shown as much eagerness to kill the little babe as they did to slay its father; and this they did, searching even among the ashes for evidence that the tiny bones had been sufficiently charred to prevent their recognition. but the child was not in the castle at the time. my good wife was suckling it--the lady mara being of delicate condition--and that night the babe was at the lodge. as soon as the commotion was heard at the castle the child was hidden in the copse." "but where is this child now?" asked scanderbeg eagerly. "you have gazed upon her by my camp-fire, sire; and your soul saw in her face that of the sainted mara, though your eyes detected her not." "and you know the perpetrator of this damnable deed?" asked scanderbeg. "i may not say i know, since your noble father refused to believe that any other than turkish hands did it. but he who possesses the estate now knows too much of this affair to thank god in his prayers for his inheritance. i saved the child; yet lord amesa has sworn that once a turk who fell beneath his sword in a private brawl confessed to him that his hands had strangled the infant on the night of the raid. some one interested had suspicion of where the truth lay, for my own cot was raided, and my wife slain one night during my absence. but the child was safe elsewhere. since then, knowing that her life was secure only through her being secreted, i have been a wanderer. a price was secretly set upon my head by amesa. in the mountains of macedonia, in the pass of the balkans, have i kept watch over my sacred charge. i want not to see albania, but as i can see justice done in albania. therefore i said i would go only if the lass might go with me, and under the strong protection of a castriot who knows the truth, whose very soul recognized the child of mara." "the child's life shall be as sacred to me as if mara had become my wife as she vowed in her play, and the child were my own," said scanderbeg. "but this perplexes our cause. amesa is one of our bravest, wiliest voivodes. to antagonize him with this old charge would imperil my reception with the people and the liberty of our land. but i pledge you, my good arnaud, that though vengeance waits, it shall not sleep. in the time when it shall be most severe upon the offender, and most honorable to the name of albanian justice, the bolt shall fall." it was readily foreseen by both that only at the peril of her life could morsinia be allowed to accompany her foster father, arnaud or kabilovitsch, to the camp of castriot. the former forester would be recognized and suspicion at once excited as to the person of his ward. it was, therefore, determined that she should be domiciled safely in a little hamlet on the borders of albania, where her history was unknown; and that, to elude suspicion, milosch and the boy, constantine, should accompany her, as her father and brother, neither of whom knew her true history. the "brotherhood in god" between kabilovitsch and his old neighbor gave sufficient warrant for milosch's claim to paternity. footnotes: [ ] spahi: master of cavalry. [ ] bismallah; "please god," a turkish common exclamation. [ ] lake scutari. chapter ix. but while these refugees from the little hamlet on the mountains were so favored of good providence, what of the others? our story must return to the day of the battle in the pass of slatiza. mother helena fell beneath the sword of a turk while defending herself from his insults. the boy, michael, with arms bound above the elbows and drawn back so that, while retaining the use of his hands, he could not free himself, was driven along with others under guard of several soldiers. as they descended the mountains the band of captives was steadily increased by contributions from the cottages and hiding places along the way. they were mostly boys and girls, the old men and women having been slain or left to perish in the utter desolation which marked the track of the army. some of the captives were children too young to endure the tramp, and were carried upon the horses of the mounted soldiers. no one was treated unkindly. after the first day their bands were untied so that they moved without weariness. they shared the best of the soldiers' rations--sometimes feasting while their captors fasted--and were snugly wrapped in the blankets by the camp-fires at night. the daily march, after the christian army had abandoned the pursuit, was of but a few miles, with long intervals for rest. indeed, michael thought that the troopers were more anxious about his being kept in good condition, even in fresh and comely appearance, than mother helena would have been. as they approached philippopolis they were all made to wash at a stream. their matted locks were combed:--a hard job with the mass of rebellious red bristles which stood about michael's head, like a nimbus on the wooden image of some romish saint. in some instances the captors went into the city and returned with pretty skirts of bright colored wool or silk, and caps made of shells and beads for the girls. fantastic enough were the costumes and toilets which the rough old troopers forced upon the little maidens; but if they were pleasing to the captors they would prove, perhaps, as pleasing to the rough slave buyers in the market square of philippopolis, who purchased the girls for disposal again at the harems of the capital. an officer of excise presided over these sales, and, before the property was delivered to the purchaser, retained one-fifth the price as the share of the sultan. if any of the girls were, in the judgment of the officer, of peculiar beauty or promise, they were reserved for the royal harem; the value of them being paid to their captors out of the tax levied upon the others. this gave occasion for the extravagant and often ludicrous costumes in which the diverse tastes of the soldiers arrayed their captives for the contest of beauty. the boys, however, were not sold. they were the special property of the sultan, to be trained as janizaries for military service, or employed in menial positions about the royal seraglio. the captors received rewards according to the number and goodly condition of the lads they brought in. the band of boys to which michael was attached was marched at once to adrianople. several hundreds were gathered in a great square court, which was surrounded by barracks on three sides, and on the fourth faced the river marissa. a great soup kettle, the emblem of the janizary corps, was mounted upon a pole in the centre of the square, and seemed to challenge the honors of the gilt star and crescent, the emblem of royalty, that gleamed from the tall staff in an adjacent court of the seraglio. there were scattered about utensils for domestic use; the tools of carpenters, blacksmiths, armorers, harness-makers and horse-shoers; old swords, battered helmets, broken wagons, bow-guns, the figure heads of veteran battering rams; indeed all the used and disused evidences that within these walls lived a self-sustaining community, able to provide for themselves in war or in peace. for several days the new boys were fed with delicious milk and meats, prepared by skilful hands of old soldiers, who knew the art of nursing the sick almost as well as they knew that of making wounds. for a few nights the lads slept upon soft divans, until every trace of weariness from the journey had disappeared. they were then stripped naked and examined carefully by the surgeons. if one were deformed, or ill-proportioned, or failed to give promise of a strong constitution, he was taken away to be trained as a woinak or drudge of the camps. perhaps three-fourths of the entire number in michael's company were thus branded for life with an adverse destiny. the more favored lads were graded into ojaks, or messes; and among them were daily contests in running and wrestling, according to the results of which the ojaks were constantly changing their members; the strongest and most agile living together in honorary distinction from their fellows. the officers in charge of these janizary schools were old or crippled men, whom years or wounds had rendered unfit for service in the field, and who were assigned to the easier task in compensation for past fidelity. the spirit of the veterans was thus infused into the young recruits by constant contact and familiarity with them; and the rigid habits of the after service were acquired almost insensibly through the daily drill and discipline. michael's rugged health and mountain training enabled him to advance rapidly through the various grades. though almost the youngest in his company, he was the first in the race, and no one could take him from his feet in the wrestling match. "a sturdy little giaour," said old selim, a fat and gouty janizary, the creases of whose double chin were good companions to the sabre-scar across his cheek. "ay, tough and handy!" responded mustapha, an old captain of the corps, ogling michael with his widowed eye, and stroking his beard with his equally bereaved hand, as he watched the boy wriggling from beneath to the top of a companion nearly double his size. "if the little fellow is as agile in wit as he is in limb he will not long be among the agiamoglans.[ ] a splendid build! broad in the shoulders; deep-chested, but not flat; narrow loins; compact hips--just the make of a lion. as lithe a lad as you were once, my now elephantine selim, when bajazet stole you from your hungarian home. ah! you have changed somewhat since the old padishah had you for his page. i remember when your waist was as trim as a squirrel's--but now--from the look of your paunch i would think you were the soldier who drank up the poor woman's supper of goat's milk, and had his belly ripped open by the padishah to discover his guilt.[ ] only goat's milk swells like that. let us see if some of the butter sticks not yet to your ribs," said the old soldier, making a pass at his comrade's middle. "that's not a true soldier's pass, to strike so low," said selim, laughing. "but you, mustapha, were once a better runner than yon lad will ever be." "i was as good with my legs as with my arms," replied the veteran, pleased with the compliment, and fondling his bare calves with his hand. "but at what match did you see me run?" "i only saw you run once," said selim, "and that was at angora, when timour the lame[ ] was after you to get your ugly head for the pyramid of skulls he left there as a monument. but see the lad! he tosses the big one as a panther topples an ox. we have not had his match in the school since scanderbeg was a boy." "poor scanderbeg!" said mustapha. "how now!" inquired selim, "is there any news from him?" "yes. he has met his first defeat. he was in command at the last battle under the balkans. carambey got fast in a bog, in the first battle, and scanderbeg was unable to redeem the defeat in the second. but he lived not to know it. he sent a host of gibbering giaour ghosts to hell while on his way to heaven. 'in the crossing of the cimeters there is the gate of paradise,' says the koran; and, though his body could not be found, he went through the gate, beyond a doubt." "that is a loss, comrade, the padishah can never make good with any man in the service. but have you not noted, mustapha, that scanderbeg never fought so well against christians as against the caramanians, the kermians and rebellious turks. in anatolia i have seen his lips burst with blood,[ ] through sheer rage of fight; but in servia he seemed listless and without heart for the fray. the grand vizier has noted it, and twitted him with remembering too well that he was christian born." "and how did he take that?" "why, the color came to his face; his lips swelled; his whole body shook;--just as i have seen him when compelled to restrain himself from heading a charge, because the best moment for it had not arrived." "did the vizier take note of his manner?" "yes, and spoke of it to the padishah. amurath looked troubled, and i overheard him say, 'i must not believe it, for i need him. no other general can match hunyades.' and the padishah said well; and he had done well if he had taken the vizier's head from his shoulders for such an insinuation. for scanderbeg only half loyal were better than all the rest of the generals licking the padishah's feet. but, mustapha, we must train the little devil yonder to forget that he ever heard the name of jesu, son of mary, except from the koran." "let us see if he has as much courage as he has cartilage," said mustapha. "the day is one fit for the water test. let us have the squad on the river's bank. if you will bring them, i will go and arrange the test." "it is too cold, and besides i do not like it," said selim. "i have known some of the best and hottest blood that ever boiled in a child's veins to be chilled forever by it. it is too severe, except for trout." "but it is commanded. and to-day is as mild as we shall have for a whole moon yet," was the reply, as mustapha moved toward the water. the river marissa was covered with thin ice, not strong enough to bear the weight of a person. a young woinak had attached a small red flag to a block of wood, and whirled it out over the slippery surface some three rods from the shore. the boys gathered naked and shivering at the barrack doors, and, at a signal were to dash after the flag. all hesitated at the strange and cruel command, until a whip, snapping close to their bare backs, started them. some slipped and fell upon the rough and icy stones of the paving in the court. others halted at the river's edge. only a few ventured upon the brittle ice; and they, as it broke beneath them, scrambled back to the shore. one or two fainted in the shock of the cold plunge, and were drawn in by the woinaks. but three pressed on, breaking the ice before them with their arms, or with the whole weight of their bodies, as they climbed upon its brittle edge. soon they were beyond their depth; one dared to go no further, and, blue and bleeding, gave up the chase. the prize lay between michael and his companion. this boy was larger and older than he; and finding that the ice would sustain his weight, stretched himself on it, and crawled forward until he grasped the flag. but the momentary pause, as he detached it from the wooden block and put it between his teeth, was sufficient to allow the crackling bridge to break beneath him; and he sunk out of sight. at the same instant michael disappeared. though several yards from his companion, he plunged beneath the ice, and reappeared carrying the flag in his teeth and holding his comrade's head above the water until the woinaks could reach and rescue them both. "bravo!" shouted the attendants. the boys were hurried into the barracks, and given a hot drink made from a decoction of strong mints; while the woinaks smeared their bodies with the same, and rubbed them until the shock of their exposure was counteracted by the generous return of the natural heat. "i thought," said old mustapha, "that we would have drowned some to-day. it is a cruel custom; but it is worth months of other practices to find out a lad's clear grit and power of endurance. the two boys who got the flag will some day become as valiant as ourselves, eh, selim?" and the living eye of the veteran nodded to the empty socket across his nose--the nearest approach to a wink he was capable of. "as the boys were floundering in the water," said selim, "i thought of a scene which i saw about at the same spot--now three score years have gone since it--for it was just after i was brought into the janizary's school. our padishah's great grandfather, the first amurath, had erected a high seat or throne on the river's bank yonder. you know that saoudji, the padishah's son, had joined the greeks; but the young traitor was captured. well! old amurath bade the executioner pass the red hot iron before his son's eyes until the sight was dried up in them. then, while the blind prince was groping about and begging for mercy, the padishah, his father, commanded a circle of swordsmen to be formed about him, swinging their cimeters, so that his head would fall by the hand of him whom he chanced to approach. thus it might be said, that since he was a king's son, he had used the princely privilege of selecting his own executioner. and having thus set them an example of paternal duty, amurath commanded the fathers of the greek youths, whom he had captured, to cut off the heads each of his own son. those whose fathers were not known or could not be found, were tied together in groups and thrown into the stream; the padishah betting heavily with the grand vizier upon those who should float the longest. so, cruel though our customs are, you see, mustapha, we are not so barbaric as our ancestors." "nor so abominably vicious as the greeks," said mustapha. "with them the loving mothers put out the eyes of their children.[ ] no, we are quite gentle nurses of the lads committed to our charge, though sometimes our tiger claws will prick through the velvet." "come, help me up! good mustapha," said selim, trying to rise from a bench in the sunshine of the court where they were sitting. "the cold stiffens my bones." "bah! comrade, you have no bones, only flesh and belly. how will you balance your fat hulk on the bridge that is finer than a hair and sharper than the edge of a sword that takes you over hell into paradise? i fear me, selim, that i shall have to content myself with the company of the prophet and the houris in heaven, for you will never get there, unless i give you a lift across al sirat,"[ ] said mustapha, giving his comrade a jerk which sent him far out into the court, where with difficulty he kept his feet upon the slippery stones. the old fellow took the rough play good-naturedly, and replied, "you will never see paradise, mustapha. the houris will have nought to do with so ugly a face as yours. it will turn them all squint-eyed to look at you." "do you think i know not the art of love-making?" said mustapha, striking the attitude of a fashionable young man of the day. selim roared with laughter. "mustapha making love? the thing is impossible; since, if the houri be in the sunshine of your good eye, you have no arm on that side to embrace her; and if you embrace her with the arm you have got, you have no eye on that side to look upon her beauty. trust me, you old moulted peacock, that i shall get over al sirat before mustapha has found a houri----" "hist!" said mustapha, pointing to the entrance of the square from the seraglio court adjoining, and assuming an attitude of the gravest dignity. in a moment more the two officers knelt, and resting their foreheads on the ground, remained in that position until a lad of some twelve years approached them and touched the head of each with his foot, bidding them rise. "i have come, good selim, to see what new hounds you have for me," said the young prince mahomet.[ ] "ah! my little hoonkeawr![ ] the prophet, your namesake, has sent you a fine one; as lithe as a greyhound and as strong as a mastiff; and, if i mistake not, already trained for the game; for he came from the balkans, where foxes run wild when and where they will." "that is capital. i shall like him," cried the prince, with delight. "i must see him." "not to-day, your highness; for the boys are under the leech's charge. they have been put to the water-test, and are all packed snugly in their beds." "the water-test, selim, and you called me not?" said the boy, looking furious in his rage. "you knew i wanted to see it; and you told me not for spite. you will pay for this one day, you fat villain! and i want the hunt now. i came for it; did i not, yusef?" addressing a eunuch, an old man with ashen face and decrepit body, but gorgeously arrayed, who accompanied the prince as his constant attendant. "we must wait, i suppose," said the man, with a supercilious tone and toss of his head, as if to even speak in the presence of the soldiers were a degradation to his dignity. "to-morrow we will have the hunt in better style than we could arrange it now were the boys able," said selim, endeavoring to appease the young tyrant. the prince and his escort moved away without deigning a reply "it is best not to insist," said the eunuch. "a wise maxim i will give thee, my prince:--beware of demanding the impossible--check back even the desire of it. the rule of the janizary school is that the boys have rest after the water-test, and the padishah would not allow even his own son to break it. i would train thee to self-command; for the time may come when thou shalt command the empire. your brother, aladdin, is mortal." "so you always interfere with me. you hate me, yusef; i know you do. i wish the boys had all been drowned in the river, and old selim, and you too," cried the royal lad, giving way to an outburst of childish rage. "wait until thou canst get the bit between thy teeth before attempting to run thine own gait," coolly replied the old eunuch. footnotes: [ ] the inexpert, or lower grade of janizaries. [ ] an incident narrated in turkish history. [ ] timour-lenk or timourlane; timour the lame. [ ] see old annals. [ ] vide, the greek empress irene and her son constantine. [ ] the bridge over hell mentioned above. [ ] afterward sultan mahomet ii. [ ] literally, man of blood, a title of the sultan. chapter x. beyond the walls of the seraglio lay the royal hunting grounds. many acres of the city were enclosed within high walls of clayey earth, packed into huge square blocks and dried in the sun; on the top and outside of which bristled a miniature abattis of prickly vines. some parts of this park were adorned with every elegance that the art of landscape gardening could devise. in the summer season these portions were covered with floral beauties, interspersed with water-jets, which tossed the light silver balls like fairy jugglers; broad basins sparkling with gold fish; and walks leading to little kiosks and arbors. even its winter shroud could not conceal from the imagination what must have been its living beauty in summer. the greater part of this reserve was, however, left in its natural state. gnarled old olive trees twisted themselves like huge serpents above the dense copses of elder and hazel bushes. dusky balsams rose in pyramids, overtopped by the pines, which spread their branches like umbrellas. here and there were open fields, encumbered with stinted underbrush, and either broken with out-cropping rocks, or smooth with strips of meadow land now white and glistening under the snow. this section of the park presented a fascinating appearance on the day of the fox-hunt. scores of lads from the janizary school were there, dressed in all shades of bright-colored jackets, and short trousers bagged at the knees; the lower part of the limbs being protected with close-fitting stockings of leather, terminating in light, but strong, sandals. each wore a skull cap or fez of red flannel, from the top of which and down the back hung a tassel, that, by its length and richness, indicated some prize won by its wearer in previous games. old soldiers gathered here and there in groups; some, the janizaries, wearing tall sugar-loaf-shaped hats of gray; others, white turbans, or green ones, indicating that their possessors had made a holy pilgrimage to mecca. elegant burnooses, or sleeveless cloaks, of white, black, orange and yellow silks, fluttered in the wind or were gathered at the waist by rich sashes, from which hung great cimeters. near an open spot was a stand, or running gallery, enclosed in lattice-work, from behind which the ladies of the harem could witness the sports, themselves unseen. the presence of these invisible beauties was indicated by the stiff, straight forms of the black eunuchs, whose faces appeared above their white cloaks like heads of ebony on statues of alabaster. prince mahomet rode a horse, small but compactly built, with head and mane suggestive of the power of his well-rounded muscles; slim ankles, seemingly better adapted to carry the lighter form of a deer; jet black, in strongest contrast with the white tunic and gaily embroidered jacket of the little prince, as well as with the saddle-cloth of purple silk, in which the star and crescent were wrought with threads of gold. with merry shout the young tyrant chased the boys, who, carrying wands decorated with ribbons, ran ahead of him to clear the way. "so it will be if he ever comes to the throne," said selim to a comrade. "mahomet ii. would follow no one. there would be no use of viziers and generals, and he would even attempt to drive the janizaries like his sheep. it is well that aladdin is the elder." "but woe to aladdin if mahomet lives after his brother comes to the throne," said the man addressed. "with such fire-boxes about him one could justify the practice of a sovereign inaugurating his reign by the slaughter of his next of kin."[ ] the woinaks brought in several crates, with latticed sides, containing the foxes, which, one by one, were to be let loose for the chase; the boys to act the part of hounds, and drive the game from the thickets, in which they would naturally take refuge, out into the open space, and within arrow range of the prince. mahomet, by constant practice, had acquired great dexterity in managing his steed, and almost unerring aim in using the bow from the horse's back. a splendid red fox was thrust out of the crate. for a moment he remained crouching and trembling in his fright at the crowd; then darted suddenly for the underbrush. the boys, imitating the sharp cry or prolonged baying of a pack of hounds, scattered in different directions; some disappearing in the copse; others stationing themselves at the openings or run-ways where they thought the animal would appear. the bugle of the white eunuch, who was constantly near the prince, kept all informed of his position, so that reynard might be driven toward him. in a few moments the arrow of mahomet laid him low. a second fox was liberated--like many of the sultan's nobler creatures--only to fly to his speedy execution. the third animal was an old one, who persisted in taking the direction opposite to that in which the chasers would drive him. again and again, as the boys closed about him, he dashed through the thickest of their legs, leaving them tumbled together in a heap. at one time he sprang through the opening at which michael, studying the tricks of the quick-witted brute, had stationed himself. sudden as were his movements, the young mountaineer's were not less so; for, like a veritable hound, he threw himself bodily upon the prey. passing his right hand beneath the entire length of the animal's body from the rear, he grasped his front leg and bent it back beneath him; at the same time using his whole weight to keep the animal's head close to the ground, so as to escape his fangs. he had taken more than one beast in a similar way from the holes in the old mountain pass. in the excitement of the sport he now forgot that he was merely to enable another to get the game without effort or danger. prince mahomet rode to the spot toward which the fox had turned, and, in a sudden outburst of anger at this interference with his shot, drove the arrow at the two as they were struggling on the ground. the whirring barb cut the arm of michael before it entered the heart of the prey. the sharp cry of pain uttered by the lad recalled mahomet from his insane rage. the rushing attendants showed pity for michael, but no one ventured a remonstrance against this act of imperial cowardice and cruelty. a moment's examination showed that the lad's wound was not serious, being only a cut through the flesh. but as the pallor of his fright died away from his face, it was followed by a deep flush of anger. tears of vexation filled his eyes. his glance of scorn was hardly swifter than his leap: for, with a bound, his arms were around the prince's body, while his weight dragged him from the saddle to the ground. mahomet, rising, drew a jeweled dagger, and made several hasty passes at his assailant, who, however, dextrously avoided them. the posing of the lads would have done justice to the fame of professional gladiators. the prince pressed upon his antagonist with incessant thrusts, which, by skilful retreating and parries with his bare arm, michael avoided; until, with a ringing blow upon mahomet's wrist, he sent the weapon from his hand, and closed with him; the prince falling to the ground beneath the greater strength of michael. the spectators at this point interfered. as they rose the eunuch grasped the little victor, and shaking him, cried: "i will cut the throat of the giaour cub of hell." but the one hand of old mustapha was upon the eunuch's throat, and his one eye flashed like a discharging culverin, as he cried, "had i another hand to do it with, i would cut yours, you white-faced imbecile! don't you know that the boy belongs to the janizaries? and woe to him who is not a janizary that lays a hand on him!" "the prince's honor must be avenged," wheezed out the eunuch between the finger grips of the old soldier. "i care not for the janizary, though you were the aga[ ] himself, instead of a mutilated slave." the eunuch had drawn his dagger, and was working his hand into a position whence he could strike, when old selim's hand grasped his. "none of that treachery, or we will let out of your leprous skin what manhood is left in you, you blotch on your race! touch one hair of black khalil's[ ] children and you die like the dog you are. let him go, mustapha! his coward throat is no place for you to soil a brave hand. we will get a snake to strangle him; a buzzard to pick his grain of a soul out of his vile carcass;[ ] an ass to kick him to death. we must observe the proprieties." "pardon my heat!" said the eunuch. "my zeal for my prince has led me too far." "not at all!" said selim. "it is pleasant to see that you have some heat in your cold blooded toad nature." "it is better for us to retire," said the eunuch to mahomet. "i shall sound the signal for the close of the games." mahomet stood stubbornly for awhile; then turning to michael said in a tone which was strangely without a shade of anger or petulance in it: "say, young giaour, you and i must have this out some day." michael could not help a half-smiling recognition of the boyish challenge, and replied: "i have seen more foxes than you have, and know some tricks i didn't show you to-day." as they moved out of the park, yusef delivered a brief lecture to his princely pupil. "hark thee, my master. i warn thee, that thou have an eye always open and a hand always closed to the janizaries. they have grown from being the heel to think that they are the head of the state. they dictate to thy father, the padishah, and snub the very vizier. i would have killed both those old imbeciles, but that it would not have been politic. i am glad, too, that thou didst not let thy dagger find the heart of the balkan boy. that would not have been politic. for, allah grant! thou mayest one day be padishah. then this day would be remembered against us." "but, yusef, i did not spare the boy. i think he spared me; and if i ever get to be padishah, i will make him my vizier, for his cleverness. it would be a pity that so brave a man were elsewhere than at my right hand. though he angered me awfully at the moment, i shall like that fellow. did you see how he gripped the fox with his bare arms? he must teach me how to do that. was it between the hind legs he thrust his hand, or across the beast's body? i could not see for my being so mad because he spoiled for me a fine running shot." "thou art a strange child, mahomet. thou seemest to have forgotten that the boy leaped at thy throat, and would have torn out thine eyes, but that thou wast more valiant than he." "well, i should despise him as white-livered and milk-galled if he had not sprung at me," said mahomet. "has not every noble fellow quick blood, as well as a prince, yusef? that boy shall be mine. he shall teach me his tricks, and i shall give him all my sweetmeats; for they get none of such things in the school." "ah! my little prince, thy head is as full of wit as a fig is of seeds. thou art gifted to know and use men. one that is born to rule must make his passion bend to policy. he must not allow himself the pleasure of hating those whom he can use. but take heed of this:--whom he cannot use he must not love." "but i was not born to rule, yusef. if so, i would have been born earlier, before my brother aladdin cried in his nurse's arms, and would not be comforted until they had covered the soft spot on his bare head with a paper crown. do you believe in omens, yusef?" "not in such; only in dreams," said the eunuch. "well; i dreamed that our two heads--yours and mine, yusef--were together on a pike-staff, grinning at aladdin's coronation." "nonsense, child!" said the eunuch, his white face bleaching a shade whiter under the thought, as they passed through the gateway into the seraglio grounds. footnotes: [ ] the custom also in other oriental nations than the turkish. [ ] aga; commander. [ ] kara khalil tschendereli, the founder of the janizaries in the time of sultan orchan. [ ] according to a moslem tradition the beautiful birds of paradise hold in their crops the souls of holy martyrs until the resurrection. chapter xi. the physical training of the young janizaries consisted in such daily exercises as would develop strength and tirelessness of muscle, steadiness of nerve, keenness and accuracy of eye, as well as grace of mien. they were also taught by expert workmen all the arts of daily need; to make as well as to use the bow; to trim and balance the arrow; to forge, temper, and sharpen the sword; to shoe the horse; to make and mend their clothing and the entire trappings of their steeds; to build and manage the keelless kaiks[ ] which darted like fishes through the surface of the river; to bind rafts into pontoons for the crossing of streams; to reap and grind the grain, and cook their food. any special talent or adaptability was noted by the instructors, and the janizaries encouraged to attain to rare expertness in single arts. the training in arms was especially severe, and under masters in fencing, archery, riding, swimming, marching, deploying--the ablest tacticians, whose wounds or age permitted their absence from active campaigns, being found always at the head of the various departments. the janizary, while a mere lad in years, was often more than a match in single combat for the most stalwart men in other corps, such as the piadé and azabs among footmen, the ouloufedji and akindji among troopers. but, notwithstanding this individual prowess and ambition were stimulated to the highest degree, they were disciplined to abject obedience within the corps. each one was as a part of some intricate mechanism, all moved by one spring, which was the will of the chief aga. at a moment's notice they must start, in companies or alone; on military expeditions, or secret service as spies and scouts; it might be to the recesses of asia or the upper danube; to assail forts or to conduct intrigues; having always but one incentive, that of the common service and the common glory. to develop in the same person these two seemingly antagonistic qualities--of intensest individuality and abject subserviency to their order--required the shrewdest manipulation of the mind and will of the cadet from his earliest enrollment in childhood. as certain expert horse-trainers control the spirit of noble steeds, without extinguishing any of their fiery ardor, and tell the secret of their power to those who come after them in the guild, so from the days of black khalil this marvellous system of discipline had been perpetuated among the corps, producing but rarely a weakling and as rarely a rebel. michael learned his first lesson in subordination upon the return from the hunt. while the janizary officers were not displeased with the prowess the little fellow had shown, even against the prince, it was foreseen that such an impetuous nature needed the curb. for three days he was confined to a room in solitude and silence. no one spoke or listened to him. his only attendant was an old man, both deaf and dumb, who evidently knew nothing and cared nothing for michael's offence or its punishment. during this time the lad's suspense was terrible. was he to be killed for having assaulted the prince? would they take him to the torture? perhaps this old man had been guilty of some such offence, and they had cut his tongue and bored out his ears! he had heard of the searing iron passed before the eyes, and then the life-long darkness. when he slept his overwrought imagination fabricated horrid dreams in which he was the victim of every species of cruelty. he fancied that he was being eaten by a kennel of foxes, to whom he is given every day until their hunger shall be satisfied; then taken away and reserved for their next meal. he tried to compute how many days he would last. sometimes he imagined that he was exposed naked in the cold, and made to stand day and night on the ice of the marissa, until he should be frozen: but his heart is so hot with his rebel spirit that it will not freeze. once he thought that prince mahomet came each day and stabbed him with that pearl-set dagger he drew on him at the hunt. his dreams were too frightful to allow him to sleep long at a time; yet, when awake, his fears were such that he longed to get back again among the terrible creatures of his fancy. oh, that some one would speak to him, and tell him his fate! he would welcome the worst torture, if only he could be allowed to talk to the torturer. after a while rage took the place of, or at least began to alternate with, fear. he regretted that he had not killed the impudent prince. "there stands his horse," he would say to himself--marking a line on the wall--"now i leap; seize his dagger; strike him to the heart; and, before they can stop me, plunge it into my own heart, so! ah! when i am out of this place i will kill him! i will! and go down to hell with him!" and the little frame would swell, and the eyes gleam with demoniacal light through the dusky chamber. there are deep places even in a child's soul--ay, bottomless depths--which, when unfretted by temptation, are so tranquil and clear that the kindliness and joy of heaven are reflected in them, warranting the saying of the old jewish rabbis, "every child is a prophet of the pure and loving god." but when disturbed by a sense of wrong and injury, these depths in a child's heart may rage as a caldron hot with the fires of hell; as a geyser pouring out the wrath and hatred which we conceive to be born only in the nether world. after a time michael's fury died away. another feeling took its place--the crushing sense of his impotence. his will seemed to be broken by the violence of its own spasm. he was stunned by his realization of weakness. he fell with his face to the cold stones of the floor, moaning at first, but soon passing into a waking stupor in which only consciousness remained: hopeless, purposeless, without energy to strive, and without strength to cry--a perfectly passive spirit. the centipede that crawled from the dusty crevice of the walls, and raised half his body to look at the strange figure lying there, might have commanded him. the spider might have captured him, and spun about his soul a web of destiny, if only he could have conveyed a thought of it from his tiny eyes. for, as the body faints, so also does the spirit under the pressure of woe. the old mute brought in the meal on the third day, placed it beside him, and retired. an hour later he returned and found the bread untasted; the child in the same attitude, but not asleep. he touched him with his foot, but evoked no sign that his presence was recognized. he gazed for a few moments; then shook his head like an artisan who, upon inspecting some piece of work he has been making, is not satisfied with it. he summoned selim. the old soldier, finding that his entrance did not arouse the lad, crossed his legs upon the floor beside him, and waited. the light from the high window of the room fell upon selim's wrinkled face. but it seemed as if another light, one from within, blended with it. his harsh features were permeated by a glow and softness, as he gazed upon the exhausted child. his eyes filled with tears; but they were speedily dried by the stare with which he turned and looked first at the blank walls, and then, following back the ray of light, to the window and beyond; his soul transported far away over lands, through years, to a cottage on the banks of the grau. he saw there a face so beautiful! was it really of one he once called "mother?" or a dim and hazy recollection of a painting of the christian madonna he had seen in his childhood? happy groups of village children were playing down among the lilies by the water's edge, and over the hills gently sloping back from the river's bank. their faces were as clear cut there against the blue sky beyond the window, as once--sixty years ago--they were against the green grass of the meadow. he heard again the sweet ring of the chapel bell echoing back from the ragged rocks of the opposite shore. and now the midnight alarm! a fight with strange looking turbaned men! flames bursting from the houses of the hamlet! men shrieking with wounds, and women struggling in the arms of captors! and a little child, ah, so lonely and tired with a long march! and that child--himself!--his eyes rested as fondly upon michael as did ever a father's upon his boy. but as the wind extinguishes a candle, a movement of michael sent all the gleams gathered out of former days from old selim's features. severity, almost savageness, took the place of kindliness among the wrinkles of his countenance, as naturally as the waters of a rivulet, held back for a moment by a child's hand, fill again their channels. the boy raised his head. his face was pale; the eyes sunken; their natural brilliance deepened, but as that of the flashing waters is deepened when it is frozen into the glistening icicle. or shall we say that the dancing flames of the child's eyes had become the steady glow of embered coals;--their life gone out, but the hot core left there, not to cheer, only to burn. those three days of silence, with their successive dramas of mystery, terror, rage and depression, had wrought more changes in him than many years of merely external discipline would have done. the close searching glance of selim detected all this; and also that the child was in a critical condition. the will was broken, but it was not certain that this had not been accomplished by the breaking of the entire spirit; instead of curbing, destroying it: not taming the tiger's daring, but converting it into the sluggishness and timidity of the cat. "michael!" cried he. there was no response except the slight inclination of the head indicating that the word had been heard. "follow me!" the lad rose mechanically, showing no interest or attention beyond that required for bodily obedience. pausing at the door-way the old man put his hand upon the boy's shoulder and said sternly, yet with a caution ready to change his tone-- "do you know that we have power to more severely punish you?" the words made no impression upon the child. "the bastinado? the cage?" the boy raised his face, but upon it was no evidence of fear; perhaps of scorn. he had suffered so much that threats had no power over him. selim was alarmed at these symptoms. his experience with such cases taught him that this lethargic spell must be broken at whatever cost. feeling must be excited; and if an appeal to the child's imagination failed, physical pain must be inflicted. something must rouse him, or insanity might ensue. a peculiar instrument of torture was a frame set with needles pointing inwards. into this sometimes a culprit was placed, and the frame screwed so close about the person that he could not move from a fixed position without forcing the needles into his flesh. this frame was put about the boy. he stared stupidly at the approaching points, but did not shrink. selim pressed one of the needles quickly. instantly the boy uttered a cry of pain. his face blanched with fright. the tears sprang to his eyes, and through them came an agonizing look of entreaty. selim's whole manner changed as suddenly. schooled as he was to harshness; to strike one's head from his shoulders at the command of the aga without an instant's hesitation; to superintend the slow process of a "discipline" by torture, without a remorseful thought;--yet this was not his nature. and now that better, deeper, truer nature, hitherto unexercised for years, asserted itself. his heart went out to michael the instant there was no further necessity for its restraint. "bravo! my little hero," cried he, catching him to his arms. "you are of the metal of the invincibles, and henceforth only valiant deeds, bright honors and endless pleasures are to be yours. you shall lodge with me to-night." footnote: [ ] kaiks or caiques; light row-boats. chapter xii. selim's apartment was off from the common barracks of the janizaries. it was luxuriantly furnished in its way. elegant rugs lay upon the marble floor. a divan, with silken covering, filled one end of the room. the walls were hung with a variety of richly wrought weapons and armor:--short swords, long crescent-shaped cimeters, spears of polished wood headed with glistening steel, helmets, breastplates, greaves. badges and honorary decorations shone among costly robes which had accumulated since the days when he had been a page to the sultan amurath i. upon a low table, reaching to the edge of the divan, had been placed salvers holding cups and open dishes of silver. a woinak entered with basins of scented water in which to wash the hands and bathe the face. selim placed his little guest by his side upon the divan. mustapha also appeared, and, removing his shoes, made a profound and dignified salâm--quite in contrast with his usual rough and badgering manner when with selim--then placed himself beside his comrade upon the cushions. an excellent repast was served. there was hare's flesh chopped and rolled with rice into balls, made more savory with curry sauce. sweet cakes, pastry of figs and candied orange blossoms excited a thirst for the sweetened water, which was so strongly flavored with the juices of fruits that the more scrupulous moslems refused to drink it, lest they should disobey the command of the koran prohibiting the use of wine. the two old men vied with each other in telling thrilling stories of adventure in battle and on secret service; of the romance of castles and courts; of how they won their honors and got their scars; of the favors of princes and princesses; and of exploits in which, though the rules of their order forbade their marrying, they retaliated the captivity of the maiden's eye by capturing her person. the burden of every story was the praise of the janizary organization, which alone enabled them to attain such glories and joys. the close brotherhood, which gave to each the help of all the ten thousand, was commended by incidents illustrating it. they told of their aga or chief, who was more powerful than the grand vizier--for sultans made these latter by a word, and unmade them with equal caprice, often with the stroke of the sword; but to touch a hair of the aga would be for the sultan to lose the favor of the entire band, whom he regarded as the main support of his throne, as their hands had won it for his fathers. did not the word of mustapha and selim, at the fox-hunt, cow the pride of yusef, who was next to the capee aga or chief of the white eunuchs? yet selim and mustapha were but captains in the janizaries. no general in any other arm of the service would have dared to antagonize the eunuch as they did. as michael listened, his cheeks flushed and chilled by turns with the excitement of his martial ambition. the dreams he used to have in his mountain home, of being a soldier and coming back covered with badges of honor to claim morsinia as his bride, seemed to be dissolving into the reality. nor was his ardor damped when he learned from selim that the first step toward all this was the total surrender of himself to the service of the brotherhood, in pledging and keeping obedience to its rules; as a part of the body, like the hand, must never be severed from the rest, but keep the contact perfect in every muscle and nerve, in order to have the strength which only the health of the whole body can give to it. selim explained to him how wrong it had been for him to seize the fox, no matter how excited he was, or how much daring it showed to do so, since he had not been ordered to seize, but only to turn the beast toward the prince. besides, to raise a hand against the prince was treason--unless it were ordered by the chief of the janizaries. therefore he had been punished according to the janizary discipline; though they would not have allowed any one else to touch him--no not even the padishah himself. michael's spirit was fully healed with such words. his depression gave way to a hotter ambition and pride of expectation than he had ever felt before, when selim put upon his head the whitish gray cap, like that worn by the dervishes, and differing from it only in having upon the back a strip of wool which the old man thus explained, as he told the story of the organization of the janizary corps. "the death angel, azrael, has reaped the earth more than five times since the mighty othman,[ ] who founded our empire, entered paradise. his queen, malkhatoon, the most beautiful of women, had given him two sons. never since khalif omar followed the prophet was nobler successor than would have been either alaeddin or orchan to othman. the stars shone not with deeper lustre than did the wisdom of alaeddin. the storm never burst more resistlessly on your balkan mountains than did the bravery and strength of orchan beat down the foe. to orchan the empire came by will of allah and othman. but to alaeddin the new king said, 'thou art wise, my brother, above all men. be thou the eyes of the throne, and i will be its arm!' so alaeddin was the great minister of the mighty orchan. to prince alaeddin we owe our best laws, our system of drilling and marching in all the ottoman armies. "but two lights are better known than one. and in a dream the angel gabriel, who knows the secrets of allah regarding men, said to alaeddin, 'go look into the eyes of kara khalil tschendereli. we have given him a thought for thee and thy people.' and kara khalil said, 'know, o wise and virtuous prince alaeddin, i have been permitted in my dreams to stand upon the wall al araf, that runs between paradise and hell. in the third story of the seven which divide perdition i saw the ghosts of the giaours. but while i watched their torments the spirit of othman, the blessed, came to me, and, pointing to a gate in the wall, said, in a voice so sweet that all the birds in paradise echoed it, but so strong that it shook the mighty wall al araf as if it would fall, "i charge thee, as thou art a true believer in mahomet, open that gate that some of the believers in jesu, son of mary, may escape into paradise." "'"what power have i for such a miracle, o othman," i cried. but othman said: "'"thou shalt save the souls of the boys among the captives allah gives thee in battle. is it not written in the koran that all the children are at their birth gifted with the true faith. believe this, and teach the captive boys to trust the prophet, to breathe the holy islam of father abraham, and to draw the sword for allah. so shalt thou be a saviour of many souls. and such valor will allah send these rescued ones, and such blessings shall follow them, that the giaour children shall conquer for thee the giaour nations."' "and so, michael," added selim, "the wisdom of earth and heaven appointed our order. we are still the yeni tscheri,[ ] though a century has gone by since we were founded; for the vigor of perpetual youth is ours. "when orchan, at such advice of alaeddin and kara khalil enrolled the first of the new troop--bright christian boys like yourself, michael--they were led to the old dervish, hadji beytarch, whose sanctity was as the fragrance of paradise itself. the face of the holy man caught the lustre of the prophecy from heaven. as he drew the sleeve of his mantle over each bowed head--and the strip of wool on our cap is the sign of his sleeve--he uttered this benediction: 'thy face shall be white and shining; thy right arm shall be strong; thy sabre shall be keen; and thine arrows sharp. thou shalt be fortunate in fight, and thou shalt never leave the battle-field save as a conqueror.'" "and have they never been conquered?" asked michael with incredulity. "never!" cried selim. "except," added mustapha, "that they might prepare themselves for some greater victory. allah sometimes makes known to us his will that we should retreat; then we take up our kismet as joyfully as we would shout the advance. that we may make sure of allah's will, before retreating we always assault the enemy thrice. if at that sacred number we cannot conquer we know that the victory has been reserved, still held for us, but in the closed hand of fate." "but what of those who were killed? i certainly saw many janizaries lying dead in the snows of the balkans the day of the fight. are they not conquered?" asked the boy. "nay, more than conquerors," said mustapha. "if one falls in battle paradise flings wide its gates, and troops of angels and houris come to lead his soul in a triumphal procession into that beautiful land where the earth is like purest musk, and where the great tuba tree grows--a branch of which shades the kiosk of every believer, and bends down to place its luscious fruit into his hand, if he so much as desires it; where are grapes and pomegranates, and such as for spicy sweetness have never been tasted on earth; where are streams of water and milk and wine and honey, whose bottoms are pebbled with pearls and emeralds and rubies; where the houris, the fairest of maidens, dwell close beside the believer in pavilions of hollow pearls, and serve every wish of the faithful even before he can utter it."[ ] but michael's eyes were heavy; and as the old veterans diverted the conversation to some matter of business between them, his excited imagination reproduced the description of paradise in his dreams. only, the pavilion of pearl was shaped like good uncle kabilovitsch's cot on the mountains, and the houris were all fair-haired morsinias. footnotes: [ ] whence the word ottoman. also written osman, whence the osmanlis. [ ] yeni tscheri; new troop; corrupted in janizary. [ ] _vide_ koran. chapter xiii. weeks and months passed away, during which the physical exercises of the lads in the janizary school were varied with lessons in the turkish language; and, in the case of a select number, in the arabic, mastering it at least sufficiently to read the koran, large sections of which they were compelled to commit to memory. the teachers in the janizary schools were far from ordinary men. they were highly learned, and, like most orientals of education, gifted with great eloquence. after the daily tasks had been accomplished the boys were gathered in a semicircle upon the floor about the instructor, who sat cross-legged among them, and narrated in glowing language the history of the prophet and his successors in the khalifate; inflaming their young minds with the most heroic and romantic legends of arabia and egypt, algiers and granada, where the koran had conquered the faith of the people whom the swords of the true moslems had subdued. wild stories of the early days of the turks, before ertoghral,[ ] "the right-hearted man," led the tribes from the banks of the euphrates; and earlier still when seljuk[ ] led his people from north of the caspian; of the settlement of their remote ancestors in afghanistan, where the great chief was first called sultan;[ ] of how they had once held the religious faith of zoroaster. indeed, myths from the very dawn of known history, when the turkius did all sorts of valiant deeds in far-off china.[ ] the christian books were made to appear to the young proselyte as but imperfect suggestions of the completed teaching of the book of mahomet; while the peculiar dogmas of the christians were restated with such shrewd perversion that to the child's judgment they seemed puerile or untrue. "behold the sky!" one would exclaim. "is it not one dome, like the canopy of one mighty throne? behold the light! does it not pour from one sun and fill all space with one flood? breathe the air! is it not the same over all lands and in all lungs? do not all birds fly with one mechanism of wings? and all men live by the same beating of the heart? how then can there be three gods, allah, and jesu and mary, as the christians teach?[ ] what does reason say? what does the universe testify? what says the true and wise believer?" "there is one god and mahomet is his prophet," would be the response of the pupils, bowing their heads to the floor. "can the less contain or give out the greater? can a stone bring forth the orange tree? can a stick give birth to the eagle? a worm be the father of a man? how, then, can we say with the christians, that mary of bethlehem is the mother of god? what says the faithful and wise believer?" "there is one god, and mahomet is his prophet," would be the choral response. "is god weak? can men thwart his plans? shall we then believe that the infidel jews crucified the son of god?" "god is great, and mahomet is his prophet," would roll up from the lips of the scholars. "shall we, then, kiss the toe of the pope because he calls himself the grand vizier of allah, when our janizaries can cut the throats of his soldiers, as our brethren of arabia destroyed the crusaders? or shall we kiss the hand of the patriarch of the greeks, who claims supremacy in the name of allah, when already our arms have shut up the whole greek empire within the walls of constantinople? what says the faithful and wise believer?" "god is great, and mahomet is his prophet," is the reply. "who would cringe and beg forgiveness at the feet of a dirty priest, when the sword of every janizary may open for him who holds it the gate of paradise?" not only such arguments, but every event of the day that could emphasize or illustrate the superiority of the moslem faith, was skilfully brought to bear upon the susceptible minds of the youths. and within the first year of michael's cadetship one such significant event occurred. in the year of the hegira ,[ ] six months after the flight of scanderbeg, it was solemnly agreed between christian and moslem that the sword should have rest for ten years. a stately ceremony was made to seal the compact. vladislaus of hungary represented in his person the pledge of kingly honor. hunyades gave the sanction of a soldier's word. and cardinal julian was supposed to have added to the treaty the confirmation of all that was sacred in the religion of which he was so exalted a representative. on behalf of the christians, the concord was signalized by an oath upon the gospels. on the other side, sultan amurath, in the presence of his generals and the holiest of the moslem dervishes, swore upon the koran. this compact, guarded by all that men hold to be honorable on earth and sacred in heaven, lulled the suspicions of the turks. the rigid drill, the alert espionage, the raids along the border gave way to the indolence of the barracks and the pastimes of the camp. thousands of horses and their riders were returned to till the fields in the timars, ziamets and beyliks[ ] scattered throughout distant provinces. the sultan retired to meditate religion, or devise the things belonging to permanent peace, in his secluded palace at magnesia in asia minor. the death of his eldest son, prince aladdin, led him to put the crown of associate padishah upon the brow of the young mahomet that in these quiet times the prince might learn the minor lessons of the art of ruling. but this sense of security among the turks offered too strong a temptation to the cupidity of the christian leaders. king vladislaus opposed conscientious objections to any breach of the compact. hunyades maintained his personal honor by at first refusing to draw his sword. but cardinal julian stood sponsor to a breach of faith, and announced that principle which has, in the estimate of history, made his scarlet robe the symbol of his scarlet sin--that no faith need be kept with infidels; and, in the name of the holy father, granted absolution to the chief actors for what they were about to do. without warning, the tide of christian conquest poured from servia eastward until it was checked in that direction by the black sea. the hordes of europe then turned southward, seized upon varna, and pitched their camps amid the pennants of their ill-gotten victory near to its walls. to human sight no power could avert irrevocable disaster to the arms, if not the subversion of the entire empire of the ottomans in europe. in their extremity the lands of the moslem made their solemn appeal to allah. every mosque resounded with reiterated prayers. the camps echoed the pious invocations with loud curses and the rattle of the preparation of armor. scurrying messengers flew from the centre to the circumference of the ottoman domain, and hastily gathered legions concentrated for one supreme blow in retaliation for the grossness of the insult, and in vindication of what they believed to be the cause of honor and truth, which, in their minds, was one with that of allah and the prophet. the sultan hurried from his retreat, and with marvellous celerity marshalled the faithful against the invaders at varna. riding at the head of the janizaries, he caused the document of the violated treaty to be held aloft on a lance-head in the gaze of the two armies, and with a loud voice uttered this prayer--a strange one for a moslem's lips-- "o, thou insulted jesu, revenge the wrong done unto thy good name, and show thy power upon thy perjured people!" victory hovered long between the contending hosts, but at last rested with the moslems. to make the intervention of allah more apparent, it was told everywhere, how, when amurath believed that he was defeated, and had given the order for retreat, a soldier seized the bridle of the sultan's horse and turned him back again toward the enemy. the very beast felt the inspiration of heaven, and led the assault upon the breaking columns of the christians, until the victors returned, bearing upon spear-points the heads of cardinal julian and king vladislaus; while hunyades fled in disgrace from the field. it is not to be wondered at that such an event, which led many whole communities to renounce their alliance with the christian powers, and many of the chiefs of bosnia and servia to accept the moslem faith, should have rooted that faith more deeply in the hearts of those who already held it. a flame of fanaticism ran throughout the mohammedan world. the most rabid sects increased in the number and fury of their devotees. many who were engaged in useful occupations left them to became moslem monks, spending their lives in meditation, if perchance they might receive more fully the blessings which heaven seemed ready to pour upon every true believer; or to become preachers of the jehad--the holy war against the infidels. in the schools of the janizaries the fanaticism was fed and fanned to a flame of utmost intensity. the square court within their barracks was transformed into a great prayer place of the dervishes. here the howlers formed their circles, and swaying backward and forward with flying hair and glaring eyes, grunted their talismanic words from the koran, until they fell in convulsions on the pavement. and the wheelers spun round and round in their mystic motions until, full of the spirit they sought, they dropped in the dizzying dance. learned sheiks preached the gospel of the sword, and the imams watered the seed thus sown with fervent prayers, until the ardent souls of the youth seemed to have lost their human identity, and to be transformed into sparks and flashes of some celestial fire which was to destroy the lands of the christians. michael's mind was not altogether unimpressed by the religious fanaticism that raged around him. while in quiet moments he was troubled with what he heard against the christian faith which he had been taught in his mountain home, at other times he was caught in the tide of the general enthusiasm and felt himself borne along with it, swirled around in the rings of the mad maelstrom; not unwilling to yield himself to the excitement, and yet by no definite purpose committing himself to it. if it requires all the strength of an adult mind, with convictions long held and character well formed, to maintain its faith and principles against the attrition of daily temptation in a christian land, we must not be surprised if the child gave way to the incessant appeal of the moslem belief, accompanied as it was by extravagant promises of secular pleasure, and counteracted by no word of christian counsel. but the spiritual impulse in michael was less active than the martial instinct; and this latter was stimulated to the utmost by the associations of every day and hour. the battles which were fought on the great fields were all refought in the vivid descriptions of the janizary teachers, and sometimes in the mimic rencounters of the playground. michael rebelled against his childish years which prevented his joining some of the great expeditions that were fitted out;--against the greeks of the peloponnesus, the giaour lands to the north, and the albanians on the west, who, under scanderbeg, had become the chief menace against the ottoman power. footnotes: [ ] about a. d. [ ] about the end of the tenth century. [ ] between and a. d. [ ] tribes of turkius were mentioned by pliny. [ ] this perversion of the christian dogma of the trinity was taught by heretical sects in the time of the prophet mahomet, and is embodied in the koran. [ ] a. d., . [ ] fiefs or portions of conquered lands given to soldiers. chapter xiv. the career of scanderbeg, or castriot, as the albanians love to call their great national hero, makes one of the most illustrious pages in history, whether we look for the display of personal courage, astute generalship, or loftiest patriotism. his military renown, already so wide-spread as the commander of the turks, became universal through the almost incredible skill with which, for many years, his handful of patriots held the mountains of albania against the countless armies of the sultan. his superlative devotion to his country, was maintained with such sacrifices as few men have ever rendered to the holiest cause. he resisted the bribes of riches, power and splendor with which the sultan, baffled by his arms, attempted to seduce his honor. these things went far to atone for the treachery of his defection from the turkish service. upon his arrival in albania, the citadel of croia was given into his hands by the commandant, who was either unsuspicious of the false order that was sealed by the now dead hand of the sultan's secretary, or who had found that the wily albanians had already access to its gates. sfetigrade and other prominent fortresses fell rapidly, won by strategy or by the valorous assault of the patriots. the albanians had been almost instantaneously transformed into an invincible army by the electric thrill which the coming of castriot had sent everywhere, from the borders of macedonia to the western sea; and by the skill with which that great captain organized his bands of epirots and dibrians. an army of forty thousand turks was at one time divided by his masterly movements, and slain in detail. a second army met a similar fate. the great sultan himself attempted the capture of this arnaout "wild beast," as he had learned to call him. one hundred and fifty thousand men, supplied from the far-reaches of asia where the ottoman made most of his levies, swarmed like a plague of locusts through the valleys of epirus. by sheer momentum of numbers they pressed their way up to the fortress of sfetigrade. the defence of this place is one of the most heroic in the annals of war or patriotism. as the glacier melts at the touch of the warm earth in the alpine valleys so the mighty army of amurath dissolved in blood as it touched the beleaguered walls. at the same time scanderbeg, adopting some new expedient in every attack, made his almost nightly raids through the centre of the turkish host, like a panther through the folds of the sheep, until amurath cried in sheer vexation among the generals, "will none of you save us from the fury of that wild beast?" the incessant slaughter that broke the bewildered silence of the generals was the only response. thus passed some six years since the time when our story opens; years which, had they stood by themselves, and not been followed by fifteen years more of equal prowess, would have won for scanderbeg the unstinted praise of that distinguished writer who enrolls him among the seven greatest uncrowned men of the world's history.[ ] during these years castriot had studied with closest scrutiny the character of his nephew, amesa. his natural discernment, aided by his long observation of human duplicity while among the turks--and, indeed by his own experience, as for many years he had masked his own discontent and ultimate purpose--gave him a power of estimating men which may be called a moral clairvoyance. he discovered that in his nephew which led him to credit the story of kabilovitsch--as the forester arnaud was still called, although some more than suspected his identity. the chief saw clearly that amesa's loyalty would be limited by his selfish interests. those interests now led him to most faithful and apparently patriotic devotion. besides, the loss or alienation of so influential a young voivode, involving a schism in the house of the castriots, might be fatal to the albanian cause. the general, therefore, fed the ambition of his relative, giving him honorable command, for which he was well fitted by reason of both courage and genius. nor did amesa disappoint this confidence. his sword was among the sharpest and his deeds most daring. the peasant soldiers often said that amesa was not unworthy the blood of the castriots. to sultan amurath's proposal of peace on condition of scanderbeg's simple recognition of the ottoman's nominal suzerainty, allowing him to retain the full actual possession of all his ancestral holdings, amesa's voice joined with that of moses goleme and the other allied nobles in commending the refusal of their chief. amesa's courage and zeal seemed at times to pass the control of his judgment. thus, in a sharp battle with the turks, during the temporary absence of castriot, who was resisting an encroachment of the venetians on the neighboring country of montenegro, the fiery young voivode was seized with such blind ferocity that he knew not where he was. he had engaged a group of his own countrymen, apparently not discerning his mistake until he had unhorsed one of them, whom he was on the point of sabering, when his arm was caught by a comrade. the endangered man was kabilovitsch, who saw that there was a method in amesa's madness which it behoved him to note. it was evident to kabilovitsch not only that he was recognized by amesa, but also that the young voivode was more than suspicious of the former forester's knowledge of the affair by which the magnificent estate of de streeses had passed into his hands. the good man's solicitude was intense through fear that amesa had become aware of the escape of the child heir, and might discover some clue to her whereabouts. several times milosch had visited the camp inquiring for kabilovitsch; and constantine had made frequent journeys carrying tidings of morsinia's welfare. had neither of these been spied upon? did no one ever pass the little hamlet where she was in covert who recognized in the now daily developing womanly features the likeness of her mother, mara de streeses? a little after this assault of amesa upon kabilovitsch, came news which startled the latter. to understand this the reader must penetrate a wild mountainous district a double score of miles from the camp of castriot. footnote: [ ] sir william temple. chapter xv. out of a broad valley, through which lies the chief highway leading to the north-west of albania, there opens a narrow ravine which seems to end abruptly against the precipitous front of a mountain range. but, turning into this ravine, one is surprised to find that it winds sharply, following a swift stream, and climbing for many miles through the mountain, until it suddenly debouches into a picturesque valley, which affords grazing space for sheep and enough arable land to sustain the peasants who once dwelt there. a hamlet nestled in this secluded vale. no road led beyond it, and it was approached only by the narrow and tortuous path we have described. a rude mill sentineled a line of three houses. these dwellings, though simple in their construction, were quite commodious. a room of ample dimensions was enclosed with walls of stone and loam, supporting a conical roof of thatch. on three sides of this room and opening into it were smaller chambers, having detached roofs of their own. the central apartment was the common gathering place for quite an extensive community, consisting of a family in three or four generations; for each son upon marrying brought his wife to the paternal homestead, and built a new chamber connecting with the central one. the three houses contained altogether nearly a hundred souls. the last of these dwellings was of ampler proportions than the others, and was occupied by a branch of an ancient family to which the inhabitants of the other houses were all of kin. by reason of its antiquity as well as the comparative wealth of its occupants, it was regarded as the konak, or village mansion; and the senior member of its little community was recognized as the stargeshina, or chief of the village. it was the latter part of april; the day before that upon which from time immemorial the peasants among these mountains had observed the festival of saint george, which they devoted to ceremonies commemorative of the awakening summer life of the world. it was still early in the afternoon, though the high mountain wall on the west had shut out the sun, whose bright rays, however, still burning far overhead, dropped their benediction of roseate shadows into the valley they were not permitted to enter; loading the atmosphere with as many tints as there were in buddha's bowl when the poor man threw in the bud of genuine charity, and it burst into a thousand flowers. a group of maidens gathered at the little mill, each holding an earthen bowl to catch the glistening spray drops which danced from the edge of the clumsy water-wheel. when these were filled they cast into the "witching waters" the early spring flowers, anemones and violets and white coral arbutus, which they had picked during the day. it was a pleasing superstition that the water, having been beaten into spray, received life from the flowers which the renewed vitality of the awakening spring spirit had pressed up through the earth; and that, if one should bathe in this on st. george's day, health and happiness would attend him during the year. "what is it?" cried one as a crackling in the bushes far above their heads on a steep crag was followed in a moment by the beat of a pebble, as it glanced from ledge to ledge almost to their feet. "the sheep are not up there!" said another. "perhaps the vili!"[ ] suggested a third, "for i am sure that i have seen one this very day." "what was he like?" exclaimed several at once, while all kept their eyes upon the cliff above. "there! there! did you see it?" several avowed that they saw it stealing along the very brow of the hill; but all agreed that it passed so swiftly that they could not tell just what they saw. "it was just so with the one i saw to-day," said the former speaker. "i was on the ledge by the old eagle's nest, gathering my flowers. a tall being passed below me on the path, dressed so beautifully that i know it was none of us, and had dealings with none of us. it seemed anxious not to be seen; for my little cry of surprise caused it to vanish as if it melted into the foam of the stream as it plunges into the pool." "that was just like the vili," interposed one. "they live under the river's bank. they talk in the murmur of the streams. old mirko, who used to work much in the mill, learned to understand what they said. did this one you saw have long hair? the vili, mirko said, always did." "i cannot say," replied the girl, "for its head was hidden in a blossoming laurel bush between it and me." "it was one," cried another, "for there are no blossoming laurels yet. it was its long white hair waving in the wind, that you saw." "let us go down to the pool!" proposed one, "maybe we can see it again." "no! no!" cried the others, in a chorus of tremulous voices. "no, indeed," said one of the larger girls, "for it might be they are eating, or they are dancing the kolo--which they always do as the sun goes down, and if any body sees them then they get angry, and will come to your house and look at you with the evil eye." hasting home with their bowls of water crowned with flowers, they told their story to the stargeshina. the old man laughed at their credulity:-- "girls always see strange things on the eve of saint george." at the evening meal in the great room of the first house, the patriarch, taking his cue from the story the girls belonging to that household had told of their imagined vision, repeated legend after legend about those strange beings that people the unknown caverns in the mountains, and rise from the brooks, leaving the water-spiders to mark the spot where they emerged so that they may find their way back again, and of the wjeshtiges, who throw off their bodies as easily as others lay aside their clothes, flit through the fire, ride upon the sparks as horses, float on the threads of white smoke--all the time watching the persons gathered about the blazing logs, that they may mark the one who is first to die. "this doomed person," the old man said, "they visit when he has gone to sleep, and, with a magic rod, open his breast; utter in mystic words the day of his death; take out his heart and feast upon it. then they carefully close up the side, and, though the victim lives on, having no heart, no spring of life in him, sickens and droops until the fatal day; as the streams vanish when cut off from the fountains whence they start." these stories were followed by songs, the music of which was within a narrow range of notes, and sung to the accompaniment of the gusle--a rude sort of guitar with a single string. the subjects of these songs and the ideas they contained were as limited in their range as the notes by which they were rendered; such as the impossible exploits of heroes, and improbable romances of love. the merit of the singing generally consisted in the additions or variations with which the genius of the performer enabled him to adorn the hackneyed music or original narrative. "let constantine take the gusle, and sing us the song about the peasant maid who conquered the heart of the king," said the stargeshina. "constantine is not here," replied a clear and sweet, but commanding sort of voice. "he went out as it began to darken, and has not returned." the speaker rose as she said it, and went toward the large door of the room to look out. she was a young woman of slender, but superb form, which the costume of the country did not altogether conceal. she was tall and straight, but moved with the graceful freedom of a child, for her straightness was not that of an arrow--rather of the unstrung bow, whose beauty is revealed by its flexibility. her limbs were rounded perfectly to the feminine model, but were evidently possessed of muscular strength developed by daily exercise incident to her mountain life. a glance at her would disprove that western theory which associates the ideal of female beauty only with softness of fleshly texture and lack of sinew. her face was commanding, brow high, eyes rather deep-set and blue, mouth small--perhaps too straight for the best expression of amiability--chin full, and suggestive of firmness and courage. as she gazed through the doorway into the night a troubled look knit her features--just enough, however, to make one notice rather the strong, steady and heroic purpose which conquered it. when she turned again to the company the firelight revealed only a girlish sweetness and gentleness of face and manner. she took the gusle and sang a pretty song about the dancing of the witches; her merry voice starting a score of other voices in the simple chorus. then followed a war song, in which the daughter of a murdered chieftain calls upon the clan to avenge her father, and save their land from an insulting foe. it was largely recitative, and rendered with so much of the realistic in her tones and manner as to draw even the old men to their feet, while, with waving hands and marching stamp, they started the company in the refrain. milosch set the example of retiring when the evening was well advanced. though constantine was still absent, it gave his father no anxiety, for the boy was accustomed to have his own private business with coons in the forest, and the eels in the pool, and, indeed, with the stars too--for often he would lie for hours looking at them, only morsinia being allowed to interrupt his conference with the bright-eyed watchers above. footnote: [ ] still a servian and albanian superstition. chapter xvi. constantine, who was now a manly fellow of nearly eighteen years, had left the house when it grew dark. the night was thick, for heavy clouds had spread their pall over the sky. a little space from the house was the kennel. a deep growl greeted his approach to it. "still, balk!" muttered he, as he loosed an enormous mastiff, and led the brute toward the side of the house on which the clijet, or chamber, occupied by morsinia was located. "down, balk!" he said, as again and again the huge beast rose and placed his paws upon his master's shoulders. balk was tied within a clump of elder-bushes a little way from the house, and at the opening of a foot-path ascending the mountain. the young man lay down with his head upon the mastiff. nearly an hour passed; the silence unbroken except by a querulous whine of the dog as his comrade refused to indulge his playful spirit. suddenly balk threw up his head and sniffed the air nervously. yet no sound was heard, but the soughing of the winds through the budding trees, and the murmur of the brook. the animal became restless and would not lie down except at the sternly whispered command. leaving him, constantine opened the shutter of the clijet occupied by his father and himself, and quietly entered. though in the dark, he strung a strong bow, balanced several arrows in his hand to determine the best, saying to himself as he did so, "i can send these straight in the direction of a sound, thanks to my night hunting!" a dagger was thrust into the top of his leather hose. he wound his head in the strooka--the cloth which answers for both cap and pillow to those who are journeying among those mountains and liable to exposure without bed or roof at night. the noise though slight awakened milosch, who had fallen into a light sleep. "where now, my boy? no coon will come to you such a night as this." "father, i did not tell you, because you laugh at my fears," said constantine in a low tone. "but the anxiety of uncle kabilovitsch and the great captain, too, when i went to camp last week, makes me more cautious about morsinia. the vili are about, as the girls said." "nonsense, you child! it's a shame that a boy of your years should believe such stuff. besides what have the vili to do with our daughter?" "look here, father; when i was searching for a rabbit's burrow this afternoon i saw the footprint of one of them, and it wore a soldier's shoe too. that is the sort of vili i believe in." "why, boy!" said milosch, "your head is so full of soldiering that rabbits' burrows look like soldiers' feet. or your head is so turned with love for our girl, that you must imitate the latin knights, and go watch beneath the shutter of your lady's castle. go, along, then, and let the night dews take the folly out of you. foolish boy!" added he, as he turned toward the wall. constantine went back to the dog. the huge beast had thrust himself as far as the cord would allow him in the direction away from the house, and stood trembling with excitement as he peered into the black shadows which lay against the mountain. constantine could detect no unusual sound save the creaking of the gigantic limbs of the trees as they rubbed against each other in the rising wind, the sharpening whistle of the breeze, and the crackle of the dead brushwood. yet the mastiff's excitement increased. he strained the rope with his utmost strength, but the hand of his master upon his neck checked the whining growl. a branch snapped on the hillside in the direction of the path. "no wind did that," muttered he. a stone rolled down the declivity. "no foot familiar with that path did that. you are right, balk!" and by main strength he pressed the mastiff's head to the ground, and, with his arm about his neck, kept him crouching and silent. stealthy steps were heard. "one! two!" counted the boy. "you and i are enough for them, eh, balk?" the dog licked the face of his master in token that he understood, and would take his man if constantine would do equally well. "three! four! five! a large band! too many for us, balk! we must rouse the village----" but at the moment he would have started, his attention was arrested by low voices almost at his side. "the clijet nearest. when she is taken i will sound the bugle call--the turkish call, so that your dash through the village will be thought to be one of their dashes. do as little real damage as you can, keeping the appearance of a genuine raid; but no matter if you have to cut the throats of a half-dozen or more; especially the red-headed fellow you have seen in camp, and the old devil with the paralyzed arm. i and waldy will carry the girl, and wait for you by the horses on the open road. let's inspect!" two dusky outlines moved toward the house. constantine cut the rope, and, at a push of his hand the dog crawled a few feet until he was clear of the copse; then sprang into the air. there was a hardly audible exclamation of surprise and terror; a low growl of satisfied rage, as when a tiger seizes the food thrown to him in his cage. one man is down in death grapple with his strange assailant whose teeth are at his throat. a sharp whiz and a cry of pain tell that the arrow of constantine has not missed its mark. a second whiz, and the form topples! the boy stood stupefied with the reaction of the moment. but the multiplying footfalls along the ledge aroused him. he darted into the house, swinging the great bar that turned on a peg in the door post across the entrance, and thus securing it behind him. to arouse the household was the work of a moment. a word explained all. arms were seized, not only by the men, but also by the women: for even to this day a marauder will meet no more skilful and brave defenders of the villages of albania than the wives and daughters who encourage the men by their example as well as by their words. their hands are trained to use the sword, the axe, the dagger; and the cry of danger transforms the most domestic scene into an exhibition of amazons. the expected attack was delayed. fears were excited lest the raiders were about to set fire to the house. if such were the case, the policy of the inmates was to sally forth and cut their way through the assailants, at whatever cost. some one must go out. it might be to meet death at the door. standing in a circle they hastily repeated the pater noster, each one giving a word in turn; the one to whom the "amen" came accepting the appointment as directly from god. with drawn weapons they gathered at the door, which was opened suddenly. no enemy appearing, it was closed, leaving the new sentinel without. after going a few paces the guard stumbled over the dead body of the dog, by the side of which a man was vainly struggling to rise. drawing his dagger he would have completed the work of the mastiff's fangs,--when he checked the impulse by better judgment-- "no, it's better to have him along with us. he'll come handy before we get through this job!" so, grasping the two arms of the wounded man in such a way as to prevent his using a weapon, if strength enough should remain, he swung the helpless hulk upon his back, as he had often carried the carcass of a wolf down the mountain; and, giving the preconcerted signal at the door, was instantly re-admitted. the wounded man wore the turkish uniform, and was evidently the officer in charge of the raiding party. this fact sufficiently explained the delay in following up the attack, for doubtless his men were still waiting for the order which he would never give. "we must rouse our neighbors," said the old man, who was recognized as the commandant of the dwelling, and obeyed as such with that reverence for seniority which is to this day a beautiful characteristic of the albanian people. constantine held a hurried, but confidential talk with milosch, who proposed that constantine and his sister should undertake the hazardous venture of alarming the next house. all remonstrated against morsinia's venturing, the patriarch refusing to allow it. milosch persuaded him with these words, which were not overheard by the others-- "she is the chief object of attack; this i have discovered. if she remains in the house she will be captured. her only safety is to leave it, and disappear in the darkness. once out there she can hide near by, or can thread her way up among the crags, where no stranger's foot will ever come. she knows every stone and tree in the dark as well as a mole knows the twists and turns of his burrow." morsinia caught at once the spirit of the adventure, and in her eagerness preceded constantine to the doorway. the thrill of fear on her account gave way to a thrill of applause for her as she stood in readiness. she had donned a helmet of thick half-tanned hides, and a corsage of light iron links, looped together and tied with leathern thongs, about her person. her arms were left free for the use of the bow and stock which swung from her shoulder, and the klaptigan, or short dagger, which hung in the plaits of her kilt. "the holy virgin protect her!" was the prayer which came from all sides as she flung her arms about the neck of milosch, and as she afterward bowed her head to receive the kiss of the patriarch upon her forehead. the light in the room was extinguished that their exit might not be noted by any without when the door should open. for a moment constantine and morsinia stood close to the door which had closed behind them. their keen hearing detected the fact that the house was surrounded, though by persons stationed at a distance, chiefly upon the higher slopes of the hills. the road to the next house was evidently guarded. constantine insisted upon morsinia's concealing herself rather than attempting to go with him to the neighbors; but only after remonstrance with him did she consent to his plan. silently crossing the road, and without so much as breaking a stick or rustling a dead leaf beneath her feet--a dexterity acquired in approaching the timid game with which the mountains abounded, and which she had often hunted--she disappeared in the dense copse. constantine moved cautiously by the wayside, easily eluding the notice of the men whose dark outlines were discerned by him as they stood on guard at intervals along the road. he had nearly approached the neighboring house when the still night air was rent with the shrill note of a turkish bugle call from the direction of the dwelling they had left. "could it be that the captured officer had recovered sufficient reason and strength to break from his captors and give the signal?" thought constantine. the call sounded again--it was evidently from a distance, beyond the village. a score or more dim forms at the sound gathered in the road; some emerging from the bushes near, others descending from points high up the slopes on either side--their hurried but muffled conversation showed that they were about to make the appointed dash upon the doomed dwelling. but a second blare of trumpets sounded far down toward the entrance of the valley, followed by a clanging of armor and clatter of horses' feet. torches glared far away. a party was evidently just winding out of the defile into the open space where the hamlet stood. rescuers doubtless! for the first party of raiders scattered to right and left, and were heard climbing again up the wooded slopes. morsinia hastened to constantine, and together they hurried to meet the new comers. but they were not rescuers. they attacked the house with shouts of "allah! allah!" they fired it with their torches. some poured along the road toward the next house. they were genuine turks. unable to conquer scanderbeg in battle, the great army had spread everywhere to lay waste the country. in fertile meadows, along every stream, wherever a castle or chalet was known to be, raged the numberless soldiers, who, beaten in nobler fight, sought vengeance by becoming murderers of the more helpless, and kidnappers of women and children to fill their harems. with flying feet constantine and morsinia outstripped the riders, alarmed the second house, and ran to the third. behind them the crackling flames told that it was too late to return. all who could escape gathered at the great konak. since a similar raid, some years before, this building had been converted into a rude fortification. the wall which surrounded it, as an enclosure for sheep and cattle, had been built up high and strong enough to prevent any approach to the main structure by an anticipated foe, except as the scalers of the wall should be exposed to the missiles of those within. the konak proper was pierced with loop-holes, through which a shower of arrows could be poured by unseen archers. the court was already filled with the fugitives, while some had entered the building, when it was surrounded by the turks. constantine had gained from morsinia a promise to avoid exposure; and had agreed upon a place of meeting on the mountain, in the event of their both surviving the conflict. but the eagerness of constantine overcame his discretion, and, heading a group of peasants who had not been able to enter the konak, he mingled in a hand-to-hand fight with the assailants. morsinia's interest led her to closely watch the fray from the bordering thicket, changing her position from time to time that she might not lose sight of the well-known form of her foster-brother. seeing him endangered, she could not resist the vain impulse to fly to his assistance; as if her arms could stay those of the stout troopers who surrounded him; or as if a turk could have respect for a woman's presence. scarcely had she moved from her covert when strong hands seized her, and, by a quick movement, pinioned her arms behind her back. "ho! man, guard this girl! if my houri escapes, your head shall be forfeit," cried her captor, an officer, to a common soldier who was holding his horse. in a moment he was lost to sight in the struggling throng. the wall was carried, and, though many a turban had rolled from the lifeless head of its wearer, the building was finally fired--life being promised to the women who should surrender. some of these, who were young, were thrust from the door by their kindred, who preferred for them the chances of miserable existence as turkish prey, to seeing them perish with themselves. most, however, fought to the last by the side of their husbands and fathers, and were slain in the desperate attempt to make their way from the flames which drove them out. constantine, by strange strength and skill, extricated himself from the mêlée. a sharp flesh wound cooled his blind rage; and, realizing that another's life, as dear to him as his own, was involved in his safety, he withdrew from the danger, and sought morsinia. not finding her during the night, he returned in the earliest dawn to the konak. the building was in ruins; the ground strewn with dead and wounded. with broken hearts the few who had escaped were bewailing their loved ones killed or missing. but there was no tidings of morsinia. in vain the woods were searched; every old trysting place sacred to some happy memory of the years they had spent together--the eagle's crag, the cave in the ravine, the dense copse. but only memories were there. imagination supplied the rest--a horrid imagination! the poor boy was maddened and crushed; at one moment a fiend; at the next almost lifeless with grief. an examination at the lower house discovered the body of his father, milosch. he had been killed outside the house; for his body, though terribly gashed, was not burned, as were those found within the walls of the building. constantine had, up to this time, regarded himself as a boy; now he felt that he was a man, with more of life in its desirableness behind than ahead of him: a desperate man, with but a single object to live for, vengeance upon the turk, and upon those who, worse than turks, of albanian blood, had first attempted morsinia's capture. yet there was another thing to live for. perhaps she might be recaptured. improbable, but not impossible! that, then, should be his waking dream. such a hope--hope against hope--was all that could make life endurable, except it were to drain the blood of her captors. he was driven by the poignancy of his grief and the hot fury of his rage, to make this double object an immediate pursuit. he felt that he could not sleep again until he had tasted some of the vengeance for which he thirsted. but how could he accomplish it? he must lay his plan, for it were worse than useless to start single-handed without one. he must plot his tragedy before he began to execute it. he sat down amid the ruins of the hamlet--amid the ruins of his happiness and hopes--to plot. but he could devise nothing. his attempts were like writing on the air. he sat in half stupor; his power to think crushed by the dead weight of mingled grief and the sense of impotency. but suddenly he started---- "fool! fool, that i am, to waste the moments! this very night it may be done." he hastily stripped the body of a dead turkish soldier, and, rolling the uniform into a compact bundle, plunged with it through the thicket and up the steep mountain side. chapter xvii. the valley in which the little hamlet lay, as well as the ravine by which it was approached, was exceedingly tortuous. the stream which seemed to have made these in its ceaseless windings, sometimes almost doubled upon itself, as if the spirit of the waters were the prey of the spirit of the hills that closed in upon its path, and thus it sought to elude its pursuer. though it was fully twenty miles from the demolished konak to where the narrow valley debouched into the open plain, it was not more than a quarter of this distance in a straight line between those points. the interjacent space was, however, impassable to any except those familiar with its trackless rocks. from a distance the mountain lying between seemed a sheer precipice. but constantine knew every crevice up which a man could climb; the various ledges that were connected, if not by balconies broad enough for the foot, at least by contiguous trunks of trees, balustrades of tough mountain laurel, or ropes of wild vine. he could cross this wall of rock in an hour or two, but the turkish raiders would occupy the bulk of the day in making the circuit of the road. indeed they would in all probability not leave the security of the great ravine, and strike the highway, until night-fall; for the terror of scanderbeg's ubiquity was always before the turks. it was this thought that had prompted constantine's sudden action when he started up from his despairing reverie amid the embers of his home. it was still early in the afternoon when, having passed with the celerity of a goat among the crags, he looked down from the further side of the great barrier upon the turkish company. he stood upon a ledge almost above their heads; and never did an eagle's eye take in a brood upon which he was about to swoop, more sharply than did constantine's observe the details of the camp below him. there were the horses tethered. yonder was a group of officers playing at dice. in a circle of guards beyond, a few women and children; and among them--could he mistake that form? the soldiers were preparing their mess. some were picking the feathers from fowls; others building fires. then his surmise had been correct, that they would not leave the valley until night. constantine donned the turkish uniform he had brought with him, and climbed down the mountain. sentinels were posted here and there upon bold points from which they might get a view of the great plain beyond. toward this they kept a constant watch, as one of them remarked to his comrade upon a neighboring pinnacle of rock: "lest some of scanderbeg's lightning might be lying about loose." posing like a sentinel whenever he was likely to be observed, constantine passed through their lines, the guards being too far apart to detect one another's faces. hailed by a sentinel, he gave back the playful salute with a wave of his hand. emboldened by the success of his disguise, he descended to a ledge so near the group of officers that he could easily hear their conversation. they did not use the pure turkish speech, but sometimes interspersed it with servian, for many of the officers, as well as the men, in the sultan's armies were from the provinces where the turkish tongue was hardly known. the common soldiers in this group constantine observed used the servian altogether. "good!" said he to himself, "point number one in my plot." "the highest throw wins the choice of the captives," cried one of the officers. "what say you, oski?" "agreed," replied the one addressed, "but she will never be your houri in paradise, lovitsch?" "why not?" "because the koran forbids casting lots?" "well," replied his comrade. "i will take my beauty now, in this world, rather than wait for the next. so here goes!" "by khalif omar's big toe! you have won, oski. which will you take?" "the little one with the bright black eyes," replied oski; "unless you can prevail upon captain ballaban to give me his. the man who owns that girl will never have any houris in paradise. they would all die for jealousy." "captain ballaban is his name," murmured constantine to himself. "good! point number two in my plot." "i would not have her for a gift," said lovitsch, "for she has a strange eye--the evil eye perhaps--at least there is something in it i cannot fathom. she looks straight through a man. i touched her under the chin, when those gentle blue orbs burst with fire. there was as much of a change in her as there is in one of our new-fashioned cannon when it is touched off; quiet one moment, and sending a bullet through you the next. she's the daughter of the devil, sure." "you are a bold soldier, lovitsch, to be afraid of a girl," laughed his comrade. "i would like the chance of owning that beauty. if i could not manage her i could sell her. she would bring a bag of gold at adrianople. captain ballaban will probably give her as a present to prince mahomet. he can afford to do so, for the prince has shown him wonderful favors. think of a young janizary, who has not seen nineteen summers, with a captain's rank, and commanding such greybeards as we!" "no doubt the prince favors him," replied lovitsch, "but that will not account for his advance in the janizary's corps. nothing but real grit and genius gets ahead among those fellows. the prince can give his jewels and gold, but he could not secure a janizary's promotion to a soldier any more than he could bring him to disgrace without the consent of the aga. no, comrade, ballaban was born a soldier, and has won every thread in his captain's badge by some exploit or sage counsel. but i wish he was back with us. i like not being left in charge of such a motley troop as this. if scanderbeg should close up the mouth of this ravine with a few score of his spavined cavalry, we would be like so many eggs in a bag, to be smashed together, without ballaban's wit to get us out." "i think the captain has returned, for, if i mistake not, i saw his red head a little while ago glowing like a sunset on the crag yonder," replied oski, looking up toward the spot where constantine was sitting. ----"good! said constantine, holding his council of war with his own thoughts. "the captain looks like me before sunset. perhaps i can look like him after sunset. one advantage of having a head tiled in red! but i will not show it again. point number three in my plot."---- "quite likely the captain has returned, and is prowling about, inspecting everything, from the horses'-tails to our very faces, that he may read our thoughts. that is his way," said lovitsch, glancing around. "which way did he go?" "you might as well ask which track the prophet's horse took through the air when he carried his rider on the night journey to heaven. a messenger from the chief aga met him just as we were finishing the fight last night, and, with a word turning over the command to me, he mounted his horse and was off. perhaps he heads some other raid to-night; or, for aught i know, may be conferring with scanderbeg in the disguise of a frankish general; for that ballaban's brain is as prolific of schemes and tricks as this ant's nest is full of eggs"--turning over a stone as he spoke. the afternoon waned, and, as the night fell, preparations were made for the march. when it was dark a light bugle note called in the sentinels, and the company moved forward. chapter xviii. in the gathering gloom constantine approached the extreme edge of the camp, where those who were to bring up the rear had just mounted. a soldier, somewhat separated from the others, was leading several horses; either a relay in case of accident to the others, or those animals whose saddles had been emptied during the fight at the konak. constantine's appearance was evidently a surprise to the soldier, who eyed him closely, but made no movement indicating suspicion beyond that of a rather pleased curiosity. the man made a low salâm, bowing his turban to the saddle bow, and addressed him-- "will you not mount, sire?" without responding constantine leaped into a saddle. "you will pardon me, captain," continued the soldier. "you are welcome back, for we are in better heart when you are with us." "thanks, good fellow," said constantine, "but i have not returned yet--at least my return must not be known to the troops until the morning. we will take your tongue out if you tell any one i am back without bidding." the man gave a quick glance as if perplexed. constantine's hand was upon his dagger. but the soldier's doubt was relieved as he seemed to be confident of the familiar form of his captain; and he explained his apparent suspicion by quickly adding-- "you speak the servian excellent well, captain." "one must get used to it, and every other tongue, in commanding such a mixed crew as the sultan gathers into his army," said constantine. "you janizaries are wonderful men," replied the soldier. "you know all languages. there was the little aga i once"-- "no matter about that now," said constantine, interrupting him. "i want you for a special duty. can i trust you to do me an errand? if you do it well you will be glad of it hereafter." "ay, ay, sire! with my life; and my lips as mute as the horse's." "i captured a girl last night. she knows something i would find out by close questioning. i must have her brought to the rear." "ay! the girl koremi holds?" "yes, tell koremi to loiter a little with her until i come up. we must not go far from this defile before i find out what she knows, if i have to discover it with my dagger in her heart; for there are traitors among us. last night there were arnaouts dressed as moslems in the fight." "that i know," said the soldier, "for i tripped over a fellow myself, hiding in the bushes, who swore at me in as good round arnaout tongue as they speak in hell. i ran him through and found a giaour corslet under his jacket. if there are traitors among us we will broil them over our first camp-fire, that they may scent hell before they get there." "you see then why i must find out what i can at once," said the assumed captain. "some of our men are in league with the arnaouts. i can find out from that girl every one of them. impress this upon koremi; and if he hesitates to let the girl drift to the rear, you can tell him that he will be suspected of being in league with the rascals." constantine took the ropes which held the horses the man was leading; and, bidding him to haste, but be cautious that no one but koremi should know the message, followed slowly behind. it was nearly an hour later when the form of the soldier appeared in the road just before him. "right!" said constantine. "right!" was the response, first to the assumed captain, then repeated to some one behind him. two other forms appeared; one of them a woman. anticipating his orders, the second trooper untied a rope from about his own waist, and handed it, together with the rein of the horse the woman rode, to constantine. then, making a low obeisance, the two troopers withdrew a little distance to the rear. the other end of the rope which constantine held was about the waist of the captive. drawing the led horse close to his own, and dropping his turban more over his face, constantine closely scrutinized the features of the woman. she was morsinia. it was difficult for him to repress the excitement and delay the revelation of his true person, but the hazard of the least cry of surprise or recognition on her part nerved him to coolness. "where are you taking me? if you have the courage, kill me," said the girl. constantine replied only by whistling a snatch of an albanian air. "are you an albanian renegade?" continued the girl. "could you not be content to sell yourself to fight for the turk against other enemies, but must be a double traitor, and kill and kidnap your own kind?" the whistling continued. but as the soldiers were a little removed, he said in a low voice, disguising his natural tones: "i am an albanian, and if you will not speak, but only obey, i can save you." "jesu grant you are true!" was the tremulous response. "this will prove it," muttered he, reaching toward her, and with his knife cutting a broad strap which bound her limbs to the saddle. "if tied elsewhere, here is the knife." the way, which had been narrowed by the projection of the mountains on either side, now widened a little. constantine knew the spot well. there had once been a mill and peasant's hut there, and now quite a plat of grass was growing from the soft soil. the eye could not discern it, for the darkness was rayless. but constantine remembered the grassy stretch was just round the point of rock they were passing. the horses were walking slowly, being allowed by their riders to pick their way along the stony road. as they turned the rock a strong wind rushed through the ravine, wailing a requiem over the now deserted settlement and the dead leaves of last year, which it whirled in eddies; and singing a lullaby through the trees to the new-born leaves of the spring time, which were rocked on the cradling branches. this, together with the clatter of the horses' feet before and behind them, enabled constantine to draw the captive's horse and his own upon the soft turf without being heard. halting them at a few yards' distance, they allowed the men who had followed them to pass by, and sat in silence until the lessening sound told them that the soldiers had made another turn in the road. then, wheeling the horses, constantine gave loose rein back over the track they had come. after a short ride he dismounted, and closely examining the way, led the horses to one side, up a path, and down again to a little plateau, perhaps a furlong from the main road, where a grazing patch would keep them from being betrayed by the neighing. he dreaded the fatigue of further journey to his comrade; for even his own ordinarily tireless frame was beginning to feel the drain of the terrible night and day they had passed through. constantine threw off his turban and stretched his strong arms to lift the captive from her horse, exclaiming with delight in his own familiar tones,-- "i am no albanian, dear morsinia, but--" "constantine!" she cried. he laid an almost lifeless form upon the turf, for the shock of the revelation had been too much for her jaded nerves and excited brain. unrolling the cloth of his turban he spread it over her person, while his own breast was her pillow. slowly she recovered strength and self-command. in a few words the mutual stories of the hours of their separation were told. morsinia had been treated with exceeding kindness and respect, as the captive of the chief officer of the expedition, who seemed to be a person of some distinction, though she had not seen him. constantine insisted upon his companion's seeking sleep, but by his inquiries, did as much as her own thoughts to keep her awake; so that at the dawn they confessed that the eyes of neither had been closed. the necessity of procuring food led them to start at daybreak for the nearest settlement. they descended to the road and retraced the course of the preceding night; for it was useless to return to the wrecked hamlet. they had gone but a short distance when they heard the sound of a body of cavalry directly in front of them, riding rapidly up the valley. there was no time to avoid the approaching riders either by flight or concealment. constantine said hastily, "remember, if they are turks, i too am a turk, and you are my captive. if they are friends, all is well. stay where you are, and i will ride forward to meet them." chapter xix. the newcomers proved to be a detachment of albanians. constantine was instantly captured notwithstanding his declaration that his dress was only assumed. "aha! you are a christian now in a turk's skin, are you? but yesterday you were a turk in a christian's feathers," was the taunt with which he was greeted by one of the foremost riders, who continued his bantering. "your face is honest, if your heart is not, you moslem devil; for your ugly features will not lie though your tongue does. i would know that square jaw and red head equally well now, were it under the tiara of the pope instead of under the turban; and i would cut your throat if you carried st. peter's key in your girdle; you change-skinned lizard!" "who is he?" cried the horsemen, gathering about. "why! the very knave who escaped us about sundown yesterday, after spying our camp; and he has the impudence to ask us to take him prisoner that he may spy us again." "let us hamstring him!" cried another, "and, unless st. christopher has turned moslem in paradise and helps the rascal, he will find no legs to run away with again." "set him up for a mark when we halt," proposed a third. "a ducat to him whose arrow can split his ear without tearing the cheek at forty paces!" constantine was helpless as they adjusted a halter about his neck, with which to lead him at the side of a horseman, the butt of the scurrilous wit and sharper spear-points of his half mad and half merry captors. they had gone but a few paces when the colonel commanding the detachment made his way through the troopers to the front. he was a venerable man with long flowing white beard. his bodily strength seemed to come solely from the vitality of nerve and the dominance of his spirit; for he was well worn with years. "what is this noise about?" he asked sternly. before any could reply he stared with a moment's incredulity and wonder at constantine, who relieved his doubts by recognizing him. "colonel kabilovitsch!" cried he, doffing his turban as if it had been a christian cap.[ ] "your men are playful fellows, as frolicksome as a cat with a mole." "but why are you here, my boy? and why this disguise?" interrupted kabilovitsch. the explanation was given in a few words;--on the one side the story of the slaughter at the village, and the adventures of morsinia and constantine; on the other of how the news of the turkish raid reached the camp at sfetigrade about noon, and the rescuing party had started at once under kabilovitsch's command, and ridden at breakneck speed during the entire night in the hope of meeting the turks before they emerged from the narrow valley. learning now that they were too late for this, kabilovitsch halted his command, and with constantine sought the place where morsinia was in waiting. when the old man heard that the first assailants of the hamlet had been albanians in disguise his rage was furious; and through his incautious words morsinia learned more of her relation to the voivode amesa than her reputed father had ever told her; for the mystery of her family had never been fully explained in her hearing. it had heretofore been deemed best that the girl should not be made the custodian of her own secret, lest her childish prattle might reveal it to others. yet she had guessed the greater part of the problem of her identity. but kabilovitsch was now led by the new curiosity which his inadvertent expressions had awakened in her, as well as by the remarkably discreet and cautious judgment she had displayed, to tell her the entire story of her own life. this was not, however, until orders had been passed through the troop for rest, and the fires hastily kindled along the roadside had prepared their refreshing breakfasts. removed from the hearing of all others, kabilovitsch rehearsed to morsinia and constantine what the reader already knows of her extraction and early residence in albania. he advised her to extreme caution against the slightest reference to herself as the young mara de streeses, and that she should insist upon her identity as the daughter of the servian peasant milosch and the sister of constantine. morsinia buried her fair face in the gray beard of the old man, as years ago she had done when they sat upon the door-stone of their balkan home, and sobbed as if his words had orphaned her. in a few moments she looked up into his fine but wrinkled face, and drawing it down to hers, kissed him as she used to do, and said lovingly, "i must believe your words; but my heart holds you as my father: for father you have been to me, and child i shall be to you so long as god gives us to one another." the old man pressed her temples between his rough hands, and looked long into her deep blue eyes, as he said slowly, "ay, father and mother both was i to thee, my child, from that terrible night, sixteen years ago. my rough arms have often cradled thee. but now you have a nobler and stronger protector in our country's father, the great castriot. to him you must go; for it is no longer safe in these lonely valleys. under his strong arm and all-watchful eye you will be amply protected. there are nameless enemies of the old house of de streeses whom we must avoid as vigilantly as we avoid the turks." it was determined that constantine should make a detour with her, and approach sfetigrade from the south, giving out that they were fugitives from the lower country, which the enemy had also been raiding. the colonel stated to his under officers, in hearing of the men, that the young turk was really one of castriot's scouts, and that the young woman was an accomplice. borrowing from one and another sufficient albanian costumes to substitute for constantine's disguise, kabilovitsch dismissed the couple. there was no end to the badgering the officious soldier who had first arrested the scout received at the hands of his comrades. they jeered at his double mistake in taking the fellow yesterday as a turkish spy in albanian uniform, because he had slipped away so shrewdly, and now again being duped by him a real albanian in turkish disguise. some threw the halter over the fellow's neck; others made mimic preparation for hamstringing him; while one presented him with an immense scroll of bark purporting to be his commission as chief of the department of secret service, finishing the mock presentation by shivering the bark over the fellow's head. the unhappy man contented himself philosophically:-- "no wonder general castriot baffles the enemy when his own men cannot understand him. you were all as badly twisted by that fellow's tricks as i was. but i will never interfere with that red head again, though he wears a turban and is cutting the throat of the general himself." two days later a beautiful girl accompanied by her brother--who was as unlike her as the thorn bush is unlike the graceful flowering clematis that festoons its limbs, both of them in apparent destitution, refugees from near the greek border--entered the town of sfetigrade. by order of the general, to whom their piteous story was told by kabilovitsch--for he had chanced, so he said, to come upon them as they were inquiring their way to the town--they were quartered with a family whose house was not far from the citadel. for some weeks the girl was an invalid. a raging fever had been induced by over excitement and the subsequent fatigue of the long journey. colonel kabilovitsch could not refrain from expressing his interest in the young woman by almost daily calls at the cottage where she lay. one day, when it was supposed by the surgeon that she might not live, the old man was observed to stand long at the cot upon which the sick girl was lying. a look of agony overspread his features when the surgeon, who had been feeling her pulse, laid her almost nerveless hand beneath the blanket. "dear, good old man," said the housewife. "i warrant he has laid some pretty one of his own in the ground. maybe a child, or a lover, sometime back in the years. these things do come to us over and over again." the brother of the sick girl scarcely noticed the visits of colonel kabilovitsch, except to respond to his questions when no one but himself could give the exact information about the patient's condition; for none watched with her so incessantly. but her marvellous natural vitality enabled the sufferer to outlive the fever; and, as she became convalescent, the old colonel seemed to forget her. his interest was apparently in her suffering rather than in herself. footnote: [ ] moslems do not remove the hat in making salutation. chapter xx. the battlements of sfetigrade lay, like a ruffled collar, upon enormous shoulders of rock rising high above the surrounding country. over them rose, like a massive head, the citadel with its bartizans projecting as a crown about the brow. the rock upon which the fortification stood was scarped toward the valley, so that it could be climbed only with the help of ladders, even though the assailants were unresisted by its defenders. the few spots which nature had left unguarded were now choked with abattis, or overlooked by bastions so skilfully constructed as to need far less courage and strength for their defence than were possessed by the bands of dibrian and epirot patriots who fought from behind them. the assaults which sultan amurath launched against the place had been as frequent as the early summer showers, and his armies were beaten to pieces as the rain rebounded in spray and ran in streams from the rocks. the chagrin of the baffled sultan reflected itself in the discouragement of his generals and the demoralization of their men. the presence of his majesty could not silence the mutual recriminations, the loud and rancorous strife with which brave officers sought to lay upon one another the responsibility for their defeat, rather than confess that the daily disasters were due to the superior genius commanding among their foes. especially was the envy of the leaders of the other corps and branches of the service excited against the janizaries, to whose unrivalled training and daring were due whatever minor victories had been won, and whatever exploits worthy of mention had been performed. a lofty tent, whose projecting centre-pole bore the glittering brass crescent and star, and before the entrance to which a single horse-tail hung from the long spear, denoted the headquarters of a sanjak bey. in front of the tent walked two men in eager, and not altogether amiable, conversation. the one was the bey, whose huge turban of white, inwound with green, indicated that his martial zeal was supplemented by equal enthusiasm for his faith; and that he had added to the fatigue of many campaigns against the infidels the toil of a more monotonous, though more satisfactory, pilgrimage to mecca. his companion was an aga of the janizaries, second only in rank to the chief aga. the latter was speaking with a wrath which his courteous words but ill concealed-- "i do not impugn your honor or the sincerity of your motives, caraza-bey, in making your accusation against our captain ballaban; but the well-known jealousy which is everywhere manifested against our corps compels me to believe not a single word to the discredit of him or any of the yeni-tscheri without indubitable proof. i would allow the word of captain ballaban--knowing him so well as i do--to outweigh the oaths on the koran of a score of those who, like yourself, have reason to be jealous of his superior courage." "but your upstart captain's guilt can be proved, if not to your personal satisfaction, at least before those who will not care to ask your assent to their judgment," replied the other, not attempting to veil his hatred of the aga, any more than his purpose of crushing the one of whom they were speaking. "what will the lies of a whole sanjak of your hirelings avail against the honor of a janizary?" replied the aga. "if two horse-tails[ ] hung from the standard yonder, i would not publicly disgrace captain ballaban by so much as ordering an inquiry at your demand. the janizaries will take no suggestion from any but the padishah." "a curse on the brag of the janizaries! the arrogancy of the christian renegades needs better warrant than ballaban can give it," sneered the bey. "if you like, let the matter rest as it is. the whole army believes that one of your dervish-capped heroes--the best of the brood, i imagine--deserted his comrades in battle, and all for the sake of a captive girl." "it is a lie!" shouted the aga, drawing his sword upon him. the attitude of the two officers drew a crowd, who rushed from all sides to witness the duel. both were masters of sword play, so that neither obtained any sanguinary advantage before they were separated by the arrival of the chief aga, who forbade his subaltern to continue the conflict. upon hearing the occasion of the affray, the chief said: "the trial of captain ballaban shall be had, with the publication of the fact that caraza-bey has assumed the position of his accuser; and, in the event of his charge proving false, he shall atone for his malice by submitting to any punishment the captain may indicate; and the force of the janizaries shall execute it, though they cut the throats of his entire command in order to do it. we must first vindicate the honor of the corps, and then take vengeance upon its detractors. i demand that caraza-bey make good his charge to-morrow at the sixth hour, or accept the judgment of coward and vilifier, which our court shall then proclaim to the army." at the appointed time on the day following, the tent of the chief aga was the gathering place of the notable officers of the corps. without, it differed from hundreds of other tents only in its size, and in the pennant indicating the rank of its occupant. within, it was lined with a canopy of finest silk and woollen tapestries, on the blue background of which crescents and stars, cimeters and lance-heads, battle-axes, shields, turbans and dervish caps were artistically grouped with texts from the koran, and skilfully wrought in braids and threads of gold. the canvas sides of the tent were now removed, making it an open pavilion, and inviting inspection and audience from any who desired to approach. a divan was at one side, and made a semicircle of about half the tent. upon this sat the chief aga, his cushion slightly raised above those at his side, which were occupied by the agas of lower rank. a group of officers filled the space beneath the tent; and soldiers of all grades made a dense crowd for several rods beyond into the open air. the chief aga waved his hand to an attendant, and the military court was formally opened. several cases were disposed of before that of captain ballaban was called. there was led in a stalwart soldier of middle age. two witnesses deposed that, in a recent assault upon the enemy's works at sfetigrade, when there was poured upon the assailants a shower of arrows and stones from the battlements above, this man, without orders from his officer, had cried, "give way! give way!" and that to this cry and his example were due the confusion of ranks and the retreat which followed. the chief aga turned and looked silently upon the man, awaiting his reply to the accusation. the accused was speechless. the chief then turned to the aga to whose division the culprit belonged, that he might hear any plea that he should be pleased to offer for the soldier; but the aga's face was stolid with indifference. the chief, without raising his head, sat in silence for a moment, as in solemn act of weighing the case. he then muttered an invocation of allah as the supreme judge. he paused. a gleam of light circled above the man; a hissing sound of the cimeter and a thud were heard. the culprit's head rolled to the ground. his trunk swayed for an instant and fell. this scene was apparently of little interest to the spectators. a second case only tested their patience. one was charged with having failed to deliver an order from the colonel of his orta, or regiment, to a captain of one of the odas, or companies. both these officers testified, the one to having sent the order, the other to not having received it, and on this account to have failed to occupy a certain position with his men in a recent engagement with the enemy. the culprit alleged that it was impossible to deliver the order because of the enemy's movements at the time. the aga of the division, being appealed to by the silent gaze of the judge, simply said: "the man is brave;" when, by a motion of the hand, the judge dismissed the soldier together with the case. the expectation not only of common soldiers, but also of officials, led them to crane their necks to look at the next comer. even the ordinarily immobile features of the chief relaxed into an expression of anxiety as a young man walked down the aisle made by the reverent receding of the crowd to either side. he was not graceful in form. his body was beyond the proportion of his legs; though his arms compensated for any lack in the length of his lower limbs. his neck was thick, the head round, with full development of forehead, though that portion of his face was somewhat concealed by the short, bushy masses of red hair which protruded beneath his rimless janizary cap. his face was homely, but strongly marked, evincing force of character as clearly as the convolutions of his muscles evinced animal strength and endurance. the brightness of his eye atoned for any lack of beauty in his features; as did his free and manly bearing make ample amends for deficiency in grace of form. altogether he was a man to attract one's attention and hold it pleasantly. though he bent low to the earth in his obeisance to the chief officer of his troop, it was without the suggestion of obsequiousness, with that dignity which betokens real reverence and crowns itself with the honor it would give to another. the chief aga announced that, although the witnesses in this case were not of the order of the yeni-tscheri, and, therefore, had no claim to the consideration of the court, yet it pleased him in this peculiar case to waive the right to try the matter exclusively among themselves, that the good name of the yeni-tscheri might suffer no reproach. "caraza-bey," added the chief, "for some reason best known to himself does not accept the privilege we have extended him, to speak in our official presence what he has freely spoken elsewhere. we shall, therefore, hear any witnesses he may have sent." one lovitsch, belonging to the irregular auxiliary troops, testified that captain ballaban had organized a raid upon an albanian village, and engaged himself and company for the venture; but had left them in the heat of the fight, not rejoining them until the second day. a common soldier deposed that the captain returned to the company early in the second evening, and induced him, the witness, and koremi, to whom the captain had entrusted a beautiful captive, to bring the girl to the rear, under plea of getting from her information regarding the enemy; and had then mysteriously disappeared with her. koremi corroborated this testimony. captain ballaban gave a look of puzzled curiosity as he heard this; but otherwise evinced not the slightest emotion. the crowd gazed upon the young captain with disappointment while testimony was being given. the agas present being unable to conceal the deep anxiety depicted upon their countenances, as they leaned forward with impatience to hear from his lips some exonerating statement, which, however, they feared could not be given. a few faces wore a look of contemptuous triumph. but two persons maintained composure. it might be expected that the chief aga, from his familiarity with such scenes, if not from the propriety of his being the formal embodiment of the rigid and remorseless court of the janizaries, whose decrees he was to announce, would show no emotion, however strong his sympathy with the prisoner. the endangered man answered his gaze with equal stolidity when the judge turned to him for his defence; but he remained speechless. a shudder of horror ran through the crowd. the executioner stepped forward to the side of the apparently convicted person. a slight ringing sound, as the long curve of the well-tempered blade grazed the ground, sent to every heart the chilling announcement of his readiness. the chief aga turned to the others, but sought in vain any palliatory suggestion or appeal for mercy, except in the mute agony of their looks. the chief then raised his eyes as if for the invocation of allah's confirmation of the sentence as just. but his prayer was a strange one:--"oh, allah! thou hast given a wondrous spirit to this man; a courage worthy of the soul of othman himself!" then rising with excitement he addressed the throng in rapid speech. "look upon this man, my brothers of the shining face![ ] "did he quail at the ring of the executioner's sword? did he even change color when he heard the damning testimony? a true son of kara khalif is he. a word from his lips would have exonerated him, yet he would not speak it lest it should reveal the secrets of our service, which he would keep with dead lips rather than live to tell them. but i shall be his witness; and you, my brothers, shall be his judges. captain ballaban was recalled from the raid by our brother sinam, aga of the division to which the captain belongs. but, alas! the sword of scanderbeg has loosed sinam's soul for flight to paradise, and he could not testify to this man's fidelity. but i know the order of sinam; in this very tent it was written. and though the faithful messenger who carried it was slain in after conflict, the order was executed by captain ballaban to every letter: every moment of his absence from the raid is accounted for on my tablets"--tapping his forehead as he spoke. a loud shout burst from the crowd which made the tent shake as if filled with a rising wind. "ballaban! ballaban!" cried the multitude, lifting the brave fellow upon their shoulders. "take that for your grin when you thought he was guilty!" shouted one, as he delivered a tremendous blow upon the face of another. "death to caraza-bey! down with the lying villain!" rose the cry, the crowd beginning to move, as if animated by a common spirit, to seek the envious commandant of the neighboring corps. but they halted at the tent side waiting for the sign of permission from their chief, who, by the motion of his hand forbade the assault which would have brought on a terrific battle between the janizaries and their rivals throughout the army. "we shall deal with caraza-bey hereafter, if his shame does not send him skulking from the camps," said the chief, resuming his sitting posture, and restoring order about him. "summon the witnesses again," he proceeded. "you lovitsch testified truly as to captain ballaban's absence, and may go. but you twin rascals who swore to his escape with the girl, your heads shall go to caraza-bey, and your black souls to the seventh hell.[ ] executioner, do your office!" "hold!" cried ballaban, as the man drew his cimeter. "upon my return to the company i found my fair captive gone, and under such strange circumstances that i can see that these good fellows may be honest in what they have stated. i bespeak thy mercy, sire, for them." "captain ballaban's will shall be ours," replied the chief, with a wave of his hand dismissing the assemblage. as the crowd withdrew, he said, "my brothers, the agas, will remain, and captain ballaban." the sides of the tent were put up. the guard patrolled without at a distance of sixty paces, that no one might overhear the conversation in the council. footnotes: [ ] two horse-tails; the symbol of a beyler bey, a chief bey of europe or asia. [ ] a title of janizaries given them by the dervish who blessed the order at its institution in the days of orchan. [ ] according to the moslems, hell is divided into seven stories or cellars, the lowest being reserved for hypocrites. chapter xxi. "has captain ballaban any explanation of this conspiracy against him?" asked one. "none!" was the laconic reply. but after a moment's pause he added: "perhaps there was no conspiracy, except as our jealous neighbors are willing to take advantage of every unseemly circumstance that can be twisted to point against any of the yeni-tscheri. this may explain something. the girl that i captured at the giaour village was no common peasant, by the cheek of ayesha! her face, as lit by the blazing konak, was of such beauty as i have never seen except in some dreams of my childhood. her voice and manner in commanding me to liberate her were those of one well-born or used to authority. it was well that i bethought me to give her into the keeping of that dull-headed koremi, or she might have bewitched me into obeying her and letting her go. my belief is that the girl was rescued. it may be that our men were heavily bribed to give her up, or that some one personated myself and demanded her, and that the story of my return may be thus accounted for, but i cannot see any treachery in koremi's manner. if she was of any special value to scanderbeg he would find some way of running her off, though he had to make a league with the devil and assume my shape to do it. the arnaouts, you know, believe that the vili are in collusion with scanderbeg, and that one of them, a he-vili, radisha, or some such sprite, is his body servant. that will account for it all," added he, laughing at the conceit. "but," said the second aga, "caraza-bey's insult was none the less, if your surmise be true. we must wash it out in the blood of a hundred or so of his hirelings to-morrow." the chief shook his head. "but," continued the second aga, "the jealousy of our corps must be punished. you see how near it came to losing for us the life of one of our bravest. caraza-bey must fight me to-morrow." "bravo!" cried all; while one added, "and let the challenge be public, that the entire force of the yeni-tscheri be on hand and all the troops of the beyler bey of anatolia, and--" lowering his voice-- "we can manage it so that the fight become general, and teach these reptiles of asiatics that the yeni-tscheri are the right hand and the brain of the empire." "ay, _are_ the empire!" said another. "let us have a scrimmage that will be interesting. the war with scanderbeg is getting monotonous. one day he comes into our camp, like a butcher into a slaughter pen, and the next day we are marched out to him, to be slaughtered elsewhere. it requires one to be full of islam, the holy resignation, to stand this sort of life. yes! let's do a little fighting in our own way and get rid of some of this soldier spawn which the padishah has brought with him from across the bosphorus!" "but you forget, my brothers," said ballaban, "that this fight with the sanjak bey does not belong to any one beside myself. his lie was about me. i then am the man to take off his head; and i think i can do it with as good grace as the executioner was nigh to taking off mine just now." "no, captain!" said the chief. "your rank is as yet below the bey's, and he would make that an excuse for declining the gage. besides," said he, lowering his voice, "i have special service for you elsewhere, which cannot be delayed." when the agas, making the low courtesy, retired, the chief walked with ballaban. "captain, i have heard no report of the errand upon which you were sent." "no, sire, i was arrested the moment i returned to camp." "you succeeded, i know, from the movements of the enemy: although the slowness of the padishah in ordering an advance, when scanderbeg was diverted by your ruse, prevented our taking advantage of it." "yes," said ballaban, "i succeeded as well as any one could, not being seconded from headquarters. but i did some service incidentally, and picked up some helpful information. the night after leaving the hamlet we fired, i fell in with a company of arnaouts who were coming to the rescue. they would have got into the narrow valley before our men got out, had i not managed to trick them. i was in disguise and readily passed for an arnaout lout, giving them false information about the direction our party had taken, and so lost them an hour or two, and saved the throats of lovitsch's fellows, a mere rabble, good enough for a raid, but not to be depended upon for a square fight. but we must have no more raids. scanderbeg has means of communication as quick and subtle as if the clouds were his signals and the stars were his beacons. "i then came upon a dibrian settlement, pretending to be a fugitive from the valleys to the north; and entertained the villagers with bug-a-boo stories about the hosts of men with turbans on their heads and little devils on their shoulders who had destroyed all that country, and were now pouring down toward the south. "by the way," continued ballaban laughing, "there was an old fellow there, very lame, with a patch over one eye, who could hardly stand leaning on his staff, he was so palsied with age. but the one eye that was open was altogether too bright for his years; and his legs didn't shake enough for one who rattled his staff so much. so i put him down as one of scanderbeg's lynxes--they are everywhere. i described to him the moslem movements in such a way as to let a trained soldier believe that we had entirely changed front, with the prospective raising of the siege of sfetigrade and alliance with the venetians for carrying the war farther to the north. the old codger took the bait, and asked fifty questions in the tone of a fellow whose head had been used for a mush-pot instead of a brain-holder; but every question was in its meaning as keen as a dagger-thrust into the very ribs of the military situation. well! i helped him to all the information he wanted; when with a twinkle in his eye, he hobbled away, as wise as an owl when a fresh streak of day-light has struck him: and before night the whole country to the borders of sternogovia was alive with scanderbeg's scouts; and every cross-path was a rendezvous of his broken-winded cavalry. "i saw one thing which gave me a hint i may use some day. at a village the women were carrying water from a spring far down in a ravine, though there was a fine flowing fountain quite near them. it seems that a dog had got into the fountain about a month before, and was drowned. these dibrians believe that, if any one should drink the water of such a spring before as many days have passed as the dog has hairs on his tail, the water will make his bowels rot, and his soul go into a dog's body when he dies. "the next night i spent inside the walls of sfetigrade." "no!" cried the chief. "why, man, you must fly the air with the witches!" "not at all, i have some acquaintances in that snug little place; and when they go to bed they hang the key of the town on a moonbeam for me. if it is not there, i have only to vault over the walls, or sail over them on the clouds, or burrow under them with the moles, or hold my breath until i turn into a sprite, like the wizards on the ganges, and lo! i am in. well! that night i lodged with a worthy family of sfetigrade, pretending that i was a poor fugitive from the very town we had raided a few nights before. and, by the hair of the beautiful malkhatoon![ ] i saw there the very captive i had taken. she lay asleep on a cot just within a doorway--unless i was asleep myself and dreaming, as i half believe i was." "yes, it was a dream of yours, no doubt, captain," said the chief, "for when a young fellow like you once gets a fair woman in his arms, as you say you had her in yours the night of the raid, she never gets out of the embrace of his imagination. he will see her everywhere, and go about trying to hug her shadow. beware illusions, captain! they use up a fellow's thoughts, make him too meek-eyed to see things as a soldier should. the love passion will take the energy out of the best of us, as quickly as the fire takes the temper out of the best damascene blade." "i thank you for your counsel, aga," replied ballaban, his face coloring as deep as his hair. "but there was one thing i saw with a waking eye." "and what was that?" "that there was but one well of water in the town of sfetigrade; the one in the citadel court. but another thing i didn't see, though i searched the place for it;--and that was a dog to throw into the well; or i would have thirsted the superstitious garrison out. they have eaten up the last cur." "then the surrender must come soon," said the aga. "no," replied ballaban, "for the voivode moses goleme came into the town as i was leaving, driving a flock of sheep which he had stolen from us; for he had cut off an entire train of provisions which had been sent to our camp from adrianople." "then i must have you off at once on another errand, captain. you see yonder line of mountains off to the northwest. it may be necessary to shift the war to that region for a while. ivan beg,[ ] the brother-in-law of scanderbeg, has raised a pack of wild fiends among those hills of his, and is driving out all our friends. nothing can stand against him unless it be the breasts of the yeni-tscheri. scanderbeg may compel us to raise the siege of sfetigrade, for he bleeds us daily like a leech. a diversion after ivan beg will at least be more honorable than a return to adrianople. now i would know exactly the passes and best places for fortification in ivan's country; and you, captain, are the man to find them out. you should be off at once. take your time and spy thoroughly, making a map and transmitting to me your notes. and while there feel the people. it is rumored that the young voivode, amesa, is restless under the leadership of scanderbeg. if a dissension could be created among these arnaouts, it would be well. amesa has a large personal following in that north country; for his castle is just on the border of it." "but," replied ballaban, "i must first pluck the beard of that cowardly caraza-bey!" "no! i forbid it. your blood is worth more in your own veins than anywhere else. i should not consent to your risking a drop of it in personal combat with any one except scanderbeg himself." the fight between the second aga and caraza-bey did not take place. that worthy was conveniently sent by sultan amurath, who had learned of the feud, to look after certain turbulent caramanians; and leaving behind him a wake of curses upon all janizaries from the chief to the pot-scourers, he took his departure for the asiatic provinces. had he remained, the turks would have had enough to occupy them without this gratuitous mêlée. for during the night scouts brought word that scanderbeg had massed all his forces, that were not behind the walls of sfetigrade, at a point to the right of the turkish lines. hardly had the army been faced to meet this attack, when scouts came from the left, reporting serious depredations on that flank. amurath, in the uncertainty of the enemy's movement, divided his host. the asiatics were given the northern and the janizaries the southern defence; either of them outnumbering any force scanderbeg could send against them. but, as a tornado cuts its broad swath through a forest, uprooting or snapping the gigantic trees, showing its direction only by the after track of desolation, which it cuts in almost unvarying width, while beyond its well defined lines scarcely a branch is broken or a nest overturned among the swaying foliage--so scanderbeg swooped from east to west through the very centre of the turkish encampment, gathering up arms and provisions, and strewing his track with the bodies of the slain. by the time that the moslems were sufficiently concentrated to offer effective resistance the assailants were gone. at the head of the victorious band scanderbeg rode a small and ungainly, but tough and tireless animal--like most of the albanian horses, which were better adapted to threading their way down the pathless mountain sides, than to curveting in military parade--their lack of natural ballast being made up by the enormous burdens they were trained to carry. the figure and bearing of scanderbeg, however, amply compensated the lack of martial picturesqueness in his steed. he was in full armor, except that his sword arm was bared. his beard of commingled yellow and gray fell far down upon the steel plates of his corselet. a helmet stuck far back upon his head, showed the massive brow which seemed of ampler height, from the albanian custom of clipping short, or shaving the hair off from the upper forehead. wheeling his horse, he engaged in conversation with a stout, but awkward soldier. "you and your beast are well matched, constantine. you both need better training before you are fit to parade as prisoners of amurath. you sit your horse as a cat rides a dog, though you do hold on as well with your heel as she with her claws. your short legs would do better to clamp the belly of a crocodile." "yes, we are both accustomed to marching and fighting in our own way, rather than in company," replied constantine. "but the beast has not failed me by a false step; not when we leaped the fallen oak and landed in the gulch back yonder. the beast came down as safely and softly as on the training lawn." "and you have done as well yourself," replied the general. "that was a bad play though you had with the turk as we cut our way through the last knot of them. but for a side thrust which i had time to give at your antagonist, while waiting for the slow motions of my own, i fear that your animal would be lighter now by just your weight. you strike powerfully, but you do not recover yourself skilfully. a good swordsman would get a response into your ribs before you could deal him a second. here, i will show you! now thrust! strike! no, not so; but hard, villainously, at me, as if i were the turk who stole your girl! so! again! again!--now learn this movement"--pressing his own sword steadily against his companion's, and bending him back until he was almost off his horse. "and this," dealing so tremendous a slash with the back of the sword that constantine's arm was almost numbed by the effort to resist it.--"and this!" transmitting a twisting motion from his own to his opponent's weapon, so that for one instant they seemed like two serpents writhing together; but at the next constantine's sword was twirled out his hand. "you will make a capital swordsman with practice, my boy. and the girl? keep a sharpened eye for her; and tell me if so much as a new spider's web be woven at her door." a peasant woman stood by the path as they proceeded, holding out her hand for alms, as she ran beside the general's horse. he leaned toward her to give something; but, as his hand touched hers, she slipped a bit of white rag into it: "the map of the roads, sire, twixt this and monastir!" "and your son, my good woman?" inquired the general kindly. "ah! the virgin pity me, sire, for he died. we could not stop the bleeding, for the lance's point had cut a vein. but i have a daughter who can take his place. she knows the signals--for he taught them to her--and can make the beacon as well as he; and is as nimble of foot to climb the crag. but please, sire, the child did not remember if the enemy going west was to be signalled by lighting the beacon before or after the bright star's setting." "just after, good mother. if they go to the east and cross the mountain, fire the beacon just before the star sets. and the brightest of all stars be for your own hope and comfort!" "and for dear albania's and thine own!" replied the woman, disappearing in the crowd, as a man dashed close to scanderbeg on a well-jaded steed. "the turkish auxiliaries will be at the entrance to the defile in thirty hours." "your estimate of their number, neighbor stephen?" "from three to five thousand." "not more?" "not more in the first detachment. a second of equal size follows, but a day in the rear." "good! take with you our nephew, musache de angeline, and five hundred epirots each. this will be sufficient to prevent the first detachment getting out of the pass. i will strike the second from the rear as soon as they enter the pass. they can not manoeuvre in that crooked and narrow defile, and we will destroy them at our leisure. strike promptly. farewell!" "miserable sheep!" he muttered, "why will these turks so tempt me to slaughter them?" footnotes: [ ] bride of othman. [ ] ivo, the black, or tsernoi, from whom the mountain country to the north of albania was called tsernogorki, or, in its latinized form, montenegro. chapter xxii. upon the southern slope of the black mountain--that is, on the rising uplands which lead from albania to montenegro--lay the ancient and princely estates of the de streeses. a dense forest of pines spread for miles, like a myriad gigantic pillars in some vast temple. they seemed to support, as it were, some titanic dome surrounded with pinnacles and turrets, a huge cluster of jagged rocks, which was called by those who gazed upon it from leagues away "the eyrie." in the midst of these great monoliths, and hardly distinguishable from them, rose the walls of the new castle which the voivode amesa had built upon the ruins of that destroyed at the time of the massacre of its former possessor. the horse of the voivode stood within the court, his head drooping, and the white sweat-foam drying upon his heated flanks. his master paced up and down the enclosure, engaged in low but excited conversation with a soldier. the voivode was of princely mien; tall, but compactly built; face full in its lower development, and somewhat sensual; eyes gray and restless, which gave one at first a sharp, penetrating glance, and then seemed to hide behind the half-closed lids, like some wild animal that inspects the hunter hastily, then takes to covert. "you are sure, drakul, that the party which drove you from the hamlet were turks, and not arnaouts in disguise, like yourselves?" "i could not mistake," said drakul, a hard-faced man, one of whose eyebrows was arched higher than the other, and whose entire countenance was distorted from the symmetrical balance of its two sides, giving an expression of duplicity and cruelty. "i could not mistake, noble amesa, for i have too often eyed those rascals over the point of my sword not to know a turk in the dark. but all the fiends combined against us that night. we left our two best men dead, and the two we wanted, the boy and the girl, escaped us. the she-witch did not come back to the village the next day; but the red-headed imp did, and raved like a hyena when he found the girl missing. i watched him as he suddenly went off, doubtless, to some spot they both knew of. the young thief stole the clothes off a dead turk. the next day we spied him again; this time with that arnaud-kabilovitsch, albanian-servian, forester-colonel, or whatever he may be, who came back when castriot did. the fellow escaped us a second time." "track him! track him!" cried amesa spitefully. "i will make you rich, drakul, the day you bring me that fox's brush of red hair from his head." "i have tracked him and could take you to the very spot where he and the girl are to-day," said the man. "come this way, my noble amesa,"--leading him to the side of the court commanding a far stretch of country to the north-west. "now let your eye follow skadar[ ] along the left shore: then up the great river.[ ] not two leagues from the mountain spur that bends the stream out of your sight, at the hamlet just off the road into your uncle ivan's country--" "the stargeshina has a red goitre like a turkey cock? i know every hut in the hamlet," interrupted amesa. "but why think you she is there?" "why? i have seen her, and him with her. i followed the fellow day after day. once i saw him yonder on the spur. he clipped the bark of a tree, and in the smoothed spot cut a line. a little beyond he did the same thing again. he spied this way and that way with all the pains one would take to pick a way for an army. then he took a roll of paper from his bosom, and marked down something for every mark he had made upon the trees. and when he was out of sight i took the range of his marks, and by st. theckla! they pointed straight to a path which led down the mountain to the ford in the great river that is opposite the old turkey cock's konak." "but you may have mistaken the man," suggested amesa. "not i, sire. i know his head as well as a bull knows a red rag; and his duck legs, and his walk like an ambling horse." "it is he," submitted amesa. "but how know you that the girl was there in the hamlet?" "did i not see her, my noble amesa? and could i not know her from the look of her father? if i could forget him living, i have never passed a night without seeing his face as it was dead, when we dragged him to the burning beams of the old house that stood on this----" "silence!" cried amesa in a sudden burst of rage. "how dare you allude to my uncle's death without my bidding?" there was a pause for a few moments, during which amesa stamped heavily upon the stone pavement of the court as he walked, like one endeavoring to shake off from his person some noisome thing that troubled him. the man resumed-- "besides, the children of the village said she was a stray kid there, and not of kin to anybody. and while i was there the same stump-headed fellow who marked the direction came to the hamlet." "be ready to accompany me to-morrow, drakul. you can say that we are scouting." footnotes: [ ] lake scadar or scutari. [ ] the tsernoyevitcha, the great river of montenegro which empties into lake scutari. chapter xxiii. the lake of skadar lay like an immense _lapis lazuli_ within its setting of mountains, which, on the east, were golden with the rays of the declining sun, and on the west, enameled in emerald with the dense shadows their summits dropped upon them. the surface of the water was unbroken, save here and there by black spots where a pair of loons shrieked their marital unhappiness, or a flock of wild ducks floated, like a miniature fleet, about the reed-fringed shores of some little island. had there been watchers on the fortress of obod, which lay on the cliff just above where the tsernoyevitcha enters skadar, they would have espied a light shallop gliding along the eastern bank of the lake. this contained the voivode amesa and his attendant. just at night-fall they reached the cavern, whose hidden recesses begot a hundred legends which the weird shadows of the cave clothed in forms as fantastic as their own, and which still flit among the hamlets of montenegro. it was said that whoever should sleep within the cave would rest his head on the bosoms of the nymphs:--only let him take care that their love does not prevent his ever waking. amesa and his companion were courageous, but discretion led them to wind the strooka about their heads, and seek without a couch of pine needles between the enormous roots of the trees which had dropped them. the dawn had just silvered the east, and the coming sun transformed the cold blue tints of skadar into amber, when they entered the river. the great stream wound through the broad lowlands of tsetinie, girdled with rocky hills. then it dashed in impetuous floods between more straightened banks, or lingered, as if the river spirit would bathe himself in the deep pools that were cooled by the springs at their bottoms. though familiar with the phenomenon, they loitered that they might watch the schools of fish which were so dense in places as to impede the stroke of the oar blade, and tint the entire stream with their dull silvery gleam.[ ] emerging from a tortuous channel, through which the river twisted itself like a vast shining serpent, they came to a cluster of houses that nestled in a gorge. these houses were made of stone, and so covered with vines as to be hardly distinguishable from the dense shrubbery that clambered over the rocks about them. amesa was warmly greeted by the stargeshina who occupied the konak, or principal house. the older people remembered the visitor as the comely lad who, before the return of george castriot, was almost the only male representative of that noble family left in the land. the voivode was honored with every evidence that the villagers felt themselves complimented by the visit of their guest, whatever business or caprice might have brought him thither. a simple repast was provided, in which the courtesy of the service on the part of the stargeshina more than compensated any poverty in the display of viands;--though there were set forth meats dried in strips in the smoke of an open fire; eggs; sweet, though black bread; and wine pressed from various mountain berries, and allowed to ferment in skins. as they sat beside a low table at the doorway of the konak, the stargeshina offered a formal salâm, the zdravitsa, which was half a toast and half a prayer, and extended his hand to amesa in the protestation of personal friendship. at the meal the glories of castriot and ivan beg--or ivo, as the peasants called him--were duly recited. "but why," said the old man, rising to his feet with the enthusiasm of the sentiment--"why should the country sing the praises of george castriot, who for thirty years was willing to be a turk and fight for an alien faith? your shoulders, noble amesa--prince amesa, my loyal heart would call you--could as well have borne the burden of the people's defence. your arm could strike as good a blow as his for albania. your blood is that of the castriots, and untainted by moslem touch. your estates, since you have become heir to the lands of de streeses, make you our richest and most influential voivode." these words made the eyes of amesa flash, not with any novel pleasure, rather with an ambition to which he was no stranger. but the flash was smothered at once by the half-closed eyelids, and he responded-- "i ought not to hear such words, my good friend. my uncle george is the hero of the hour. the people need a hero in whom they believe; and the very mystery of his life for the thirty years among the turks, and the romance of his return, make him a convenient hero." "but sire, my noble--my prince amesa--do you not daily hear such words as i speak? the thought is as common as the pater noster, and echoes from skadar to ochrida. it was but a week since a young albanian passed through this border country, whispering everywhere that the land was ready to cry amesa's name rather than the reformed renegade, george castriot's; that scanderbeg, the lord alexander, the strutting title the turks gave him, was an offence to the free hearts of the people." "ah! and what sort of a man for look was this albanian?" asked amesa in surprise. "a sturdy youth of, say, twenty summers, with hair like a turban which had been worn by a dozen slaughtered turks, so blood red is it." amesa gave a puzzled look toward drakul, who was eating his meal at a little distance, but whose ears seemed to prick up like those of a horse at this description. "it is likely that he may be again in the village this very night. our neighbor next lodged him. i will ask him if he will return," said the stargeshina, leaving the konak for a little. "it is he; it's that constantine," said drakul, coming nearer to amesa. "the wily young devil is ready to betray your uncle george. that will make the matter easier." "the way is clear, then," replied amesa. "i am glad that the raid was not successful. it might have led to further blood. with this fellow in league with us, it is straight work and honorable." the stargeshina reported the man would probably be in again that very night, and added: "i would you could see him; for though he is fair spoken, there is some mystery in his going day after day among these mountains, like a hound who is looking for a lost scent." "perhaps he is attracted here by some of the fair maidens of the hamlets," suggested amesa, looking at drakul, who was tearing a bit of jerked meat in his teeth, apparently intent only upon that selfish occupation. "it may well be, for our neighbor here has harbored a bit of stray womanhood which might tempt a monk to lodge there rather than in his cell," said the old man. a shout from above them attracted their attention to a merry company which was coming down the mountain. it was the procession of the dodola. drought threatened to destroy the scanty grain growing in the narrow valleys, and the vines on the terraces cut out of the steep hills. according to an ancient custom, a young maiden had been taken by her companions into the woods, stripped of her usual garments, and reclothed in the leaves and flowers of the endangered vegetation. long grasses and stalks of grain were matted in many folds about her person, and served as a base for artistic decoration with every variety of floral beauty. her feet were buskined in clover blossoms. a kilt of broad-leaved ferns hung from her waist, which was belted with a broad zone of wild roses. white and pink laurel blossoms made her bodice. an ivy wreath upon her brows was starred with white daisies, and plumed with the stems and hanging bells of the columbine. the dodola thus appeared as the impersonation of floral nature athirst for the vivifying rains. her attendants, who led her in a leash of roses, chanted a hymn, the refrain of which was a prayer to elijah, who, since he brought the rain at carmel, is supposed by the peasants of albania to be that saint to whom providence has committed the shepherding of the clouds. as the procession wound down the terraced paths between the houses, the dodola was welcomed by the matrons of the hamlet, who stood each in her own doorway, with hair gathered beneath a cap of coins, teeth enameled in black, fingers tipped brownish-red with henna. the maidens sung a verse of their hymn at each cottage; and, at the refrain, the housewife poured upon the head of the leaf-clad dodola a cup of water; repeating the last line of the chorus, "good saint elias, so send the rain!" as the dodola paused before the konak, amesa said, quite enthusiastically, and designing to be overheard by the fair girl who took the part of thirsting nature, "if elias can refuse the prayer of so much womanly beauty, i swear, by jezebel, that i shall hereafter believe, with the turks, that the austere old prophet has become bewitched with the houris in paradise, and so does not care to look into the faces of earthly damsels." "you may still keep your christian faith, for the dodola has won the favor of the thunderer,"[ ] replied the stargeshina. "listen to his love-making in response to the witchery of that wild dove! do you hear it?" the distant murmur of a coming shower confirmed the credulity of the peasants. "yes, soon the holy virgin will turn her bright glances upon us,"[ ] said he looking at the sky. "who is that wild dove who acts the dodola?" inquired amesa. "the one i told you of, who has come into our neighbor's cot," replied the old man. "but only the sharp eyes of the crows saw where she came from. did she not speak our tongue and know our ways as well as any of us, i should say she was one of the tsigani who were driven out of the morning land by timour.[ ] yet it may be that her own story is true. she says she had two lovers in her village; and these two were brothers in god, who had taken the vow before heaven and st. john to help and never to hinder each other in whatever adventure of love or brigandage, at cost of limb or life. but as the hot blood of neither of these lovers could endure to see this nymph in the arms of the other, it was determined that she should be slain by the hand of both, rather than that the sacred brotherhood should be broken. by her own father's hearth the two daggers were struck together at her heart. but the strong arms of the slayers collided, and both blows glanced. she escaped and fled, and came hither." "and you believe this story?" asked amesa, with a look of incredulity mingled with triumph, as of one who knew more than the narrator. "i believe her story, noble amesa, because--because no one has told me any other. but--" he shook his head. "does not the young stranger you spoke of know something of her, that he prowls about this neighborhood?" asked the guest. "it may be. i had not thought it, but it may well be! hist--!" the dodola passed by, returning to her own cottage. as she did so her bright black eyes glanced coquettishly at the stranger from beneath her disarranged chaplet of flowers and dishevelled hair. she soon returned, having assumed her garments as a peasant maid, but with evident effort to make this simple attire set off the great natural beauty of face and form, of which she was fully conscious. her forehead was too low; but pygmalion could not have chiselled a brow and temples upon which glossy black ringlets clustered more bewitchingly. her eyes flashed too cold a fire light to give one the impression of great amiability in their possessor; but the long lashes which drooped before them, partially veiled their stare so as to give the illusion of coyness, if not of maidenly modesty. her mouth was perhaps sensuously curved; but was one of those marvellously plastic ones which can tell by the slightest arching or compressing of the lips as much of purpose or feeling as most people can tell in words:--dangerous lips to the possessor, if she be guileless and unsuspicious, for they reveal too much of her soul to others who have no right to know its secrets; dangerous lips to others if she would deceive, for they can lie, consummately, wickedly, without uttering a word. her complexion was scarcely brunette; rather that indescribable fairness in which the whiteness of alabaster is tinged with the blood of perfect health, slightly bronzed by constant exposure to the sunshine and air--a complexion seldom seen except in syria, the greek islands, or wales. her form was faultless,--just at that stage of development when the grace and litheness of childhood are beginning to be lost in the statelier mysteries of womanly beauty; that transition state between two ideals of loveliness, which, from the days of phidias, has lured, but always eluded, the artist's skill to reproduce. the girl's face flushed with the consciousness of being gazed at approvingly by the courtly stranger. but the pretty toss of her head showed that the blush was due as much to the conceit of her beauty as to bashfulness. as she talked with the other maidens, she glanced furtively toward the door of the konak, where amesa sat. the young voivode foresaw that it would not be difficult to entice the girl herself to be the chief agent in any plan he might have for her abduction. he needed, however, to make more certain of her identity with the object of his search. he could discern no trace of mara de streeses in her face; much less in her manner. since drakul had suggested it, he imagined a resemblance to de streeses himself, whose bearing was haughty and his temperament fiery. the evening brought the young man of whom the stargeshina had spoken. his resemblance to the description given him of constantine left no doubt in amesa's mind of his being the mysterious custodian of the heiress to his estates. the young servian he supposed would at once recognize him as amesa; for, as a prominent officer in the army, his face would be well known to all who had been in castriot's camps, even if the gossip of the villagers did not at once inform him of his presence. it were best then, thought amesa, to boldly confront him; win him, if possible, to his service; if not, destroy him. the young stranger was at once on frolicksome terms with the village girls and lads; and amesa thought he observed that through it all the fellow kept a sharp, if not a suspicious, eye upon him. lest he should escape, the voivode invited him to walk beyond the houses of the village. when out of sight and hearing he suddenly turned upon the young man, and, laying a hand upon his shoulder, exclaimed, "you are known, man!" upon the instant the stranger was transformed from the sauntering peasant into a gladiator, with feet firmly planted, the left hand raised as a shield, and the right grasping a yataghan which had been concealed upon his person. amesa, though the aggressor, was thrown upon the defensive, and was compelled to retreat in order to gain time for the grip of his weapon. the two men stood glaring into each other's eyes as there each to read his antagonist's movement before his hand began to execute it. "i did not know that a servian peasant was so trained," said amesa, still retreating before the advance of his opponent, who gave him no opportunity to assume the offensive. "for whom do you take me that you dare to lay a rough hand on me?" said the man, half in menace, and yet apparently willing to discover if his assailant were right in his surmise. "arnaud's man and i need not be enemies," said amesa, seeing no chance of relieving himself from the advantage the other had gained in the sword play. "i can reward you better than he or castriot." a smile passed over the man's face, which amesa might have detected the meaning of had his mind been less occupied with thoughts about his personal safety from the yataghan, whose point was seeking his throat according to the most approved rules of single combat. "and what if i am arnaud's man?" as he said this the yataghan made a thorough reconnoissance of all the vulnerable parts of amesa's body from the fifth rib upwards, followed by amesa's dagger in ward. "you do not deny it?" said the albanian between breaths. "i deny nothing. nor need i confess anything, since you say i am known." "shall we be friends?" asked amesa, cautiously lowering his arm. "you made war, and can withdraw its declaration, or take the consequences," was the reply. the two men put up their weapons. "so good a soldier as you are should not be here guarding a girl," said amesa. "guarding a girl?" said the man in amazement, but, recollecting himself, added, "and why not guard a girl?" "come," replied amesa, "you and i can serve each other. you can do that for me which no other man can; and i can give to you more gold than any other albanian can." "and when you are king of albania, prince amesa, you can reward me with high appointment," said the stranger with a slight sneer, which, however, amesa did not notice, at the moment thinking of what the stargeshina had said of the man's interest in the movement against his uncle's leadership. "you have but to ask your reward when that event comes," he replied. "i will swear to serve amesa against scanderbeg to the death," said the man offering his hand. "you know the girl's true story?" asked amesa. "of course," was the cautious reply. "but of that i may not speak a word. i can leave his service whose man you say i am, but i cannot betray anything he may have told me. as you know the girl's story it is needless to tempt me to divulge it," added he, with shrewd non-committal of himself to any information that the other might recognize as erroneous. "you speak nobly for a servian," said the voivode. "how do you know i am a servian?" asked the stranger. "partly from your accent. you have not got our pure albanian tongue, though it is now six years you have been talking it. and then arnaud--colonel kabilovitsch--came back as a servian. is it not so?" asked amesa, noticing the surprised look which the mention of kabilovitsch's name brought to the man's face. for a while the stranger was lost in thought; but with an effort throwing off a sort of reverie, he said: "pardon my silence. i have been thinking of your proposal. may i follow you to the village after a little? i would think over how best i can meet your proposition, my prince amesa." "i will await you at the konak. but first let us swear friendship!" said the voivode. "heartily!" was the response. "with amesa as against scanderbeg." "you will induce the girl to go with me to my castle. she will fare better there than here, playing dodola to these ignorant peasants." "it is agreed." as amesa disappeared, the man sat down upon a huge root of a tree, which for lack of earth had twined itself over the rock. he buried his face in his hands-- "strange! strange! is all this. kabilovitsch? the girl? not my little playmate on the balkans--sweet faced morsinia. the dodola here is not she. if uncle kabilovitsch is colonel kabilovitsch, or this arnaud he speaks of, then this treacherous amesa is on the wrong track. can it be that constantine--dear little constantine--is in albania, and that i am mistaken for him? no, this is impossible. but still i must be wary, and not do that which would harm a golden hair of morsinia's head, if she be living, or constantine's, or uncle kabilovitsch's. there's some mystery here. only one thing is certain--amesa mistakes this pretty impudent dodola girl for somebody else. to get her off with him may serve that somebody else: for the voivode is a villain: that much is sure. the cursed giaour serpent! i will help him to get this saucy belle of the hamlet, and so save somebody else, whoever she may be who is the game for which he lays his snares." an hour later the dodola, whose name was elissa, passed amesa and blushed deeply. the family at whose house the girl was living made no objection to amesa's request that she should be transferred to the protection of the voivode. the elders of the village acquiesced; for, said one, "we do not know who she is, and may get into difficulty through harboring her." another averred his belief that she was possessed of the evil eye; for he had observed her staring at the olive tree the day before it was struck by lightning; and he declared that half the young men of the hamlet were bewitched with her. a sharp-tongued dame remarked that some of the older men would rather listen to the merry tattle of the sprite than to the most serious and wholesome counsel of their own wives. footnotes: [ ] still noted by travellers on this river. [ ] an albanian title of elijah. [ ] the albanians regard mary as the sender of lightning. [ ] tsigani; a word by which slavic people designate the gypsies, who are supposed by them to have come from india in the time of tamerlane. chapter xxiv. "do you know the mind of gauton who commands at the citadel in sfetigrade?" asked amesa of his new confederate, as they parted. "i have talked with him," replied the man. "he is very cautious." "discover his opinion on the matter of my advancement," said amesa. "send him some gift," suggested the man, "i will take it to him. he is very fond of dogs, and i learn that he has just lost a valuable mastiff. could you replace it from your kennels at the castle?" "no, but i have a greyhound, of straight breed since his ancestors came out of the ark. his jaws are as slender as a heron's beak: chest deep as a lion's: belly thin as a weasel's: a double span of my arms from tip to tail. to-morrow night meet me at the castle. should i not have arrived, this will give you admission," presenting him with a small knife, on the bone handle of which was a rude carving of the crest of amesa. "give it to the warden. he will recognize it." long before the arrival of amesa and drakul at the castle in company with elissa, the stranger, whom the reader will recognize as captain ballaban dressed as an albanian peasant, had been admitted. he had wandered about the court, mounted the parapet, inspected the draw-bridge and portcullis, clambered down and up again the almost precipitous scarp of the rock, and asked a hundred questions of the servants regarding the paths by which the castle was approached. the old warden entertained him with stories of amesa's early life, his acquisition of the estate, and his prowess in battle; in all of which, while the warden intended only the praise of his master, he discovered to the attentive listener all the weaknesses of the voivode's character. upon amesa's arrival late in the day, ballaban avoided much intercourse with him, except in relation to the selection of the dog. to elissa he gave a few words of advice, to the effect that she was now the object of the young lord's adoration; and that, in order to secure her advantage, she should make as much as possible a mystery of her previous life. with this council--which was as much as he dared to venture upon in his own ignorance of the exact part he was playing--ballaban departed, leading a magnificent hound in leash. a little way from the castle he sat down, and drawing from his breast a roll of paper, added certain lines and comments, as he muttered to himself,-- "i have made neater drawings than this for old bestorf in the school of the yeni-tscheri, but none that will please the aga more. there is not a goat path on the borders that i have not got. a sudden movement of our armies, occupying ground here and here and here, where i have blazed the trees, would hold this country against ivan beg and scanderbeg. and with this black-hearted traitor, amesa, in my fingers!--well! let's see! i will force him into open rebellion against scanderbeg, unless he is deeper witted than he seems. but which plan would be best in the long run?--to stir up a feud between him and scanderbeg, and let them cut each other's throats? or, inveigle him to open alliance with our side, under promise of being made king of albania? that last would settle all the moslem trouble with these giaours. and it could be done. the padishah offered scanderbeg the country on condition of paying a nominal tribute, and would offer the same to amesa. and amesa would take it, though he had to become moslem. i will leave these propositions with the aga," said he, folding up the papers, and putting them back into his bosom. "in either case i shall keep my vow with amesa to help him against scanderbeg. but the devil help them both!" whistling a snatch of a rude tune, part of which belonged to an albanian religious hymn he had heard in his rambles, and part to a turkish love song--swinging his long arms, and striding as far at each step as his short legs would allow him, he went down the mountain. chapter xxv. "who comes here?" cried the sentinel at the bottom of the steep road which led up to the gate at the rear of the town of sfetigrade. the man thus challenged made no reply except to speak sharply to a large hound he was leading, and which was struggling to break away from him. in his engrossment with the brute he did not seem to have heard the challenge. as he came nearer the sentinel eyed him with a puzzled, but half-comical look, as he soliloquized,-- "ah, by the devil in the serpent's skin, i know him this time. he is the albanian turk we were nigh to hamstringing. if i mistake that red head again it will be when my own head has less brain in it than will balance it on a pike-staff, where colonel kabilovitsch would put it if i molested this fellow again. i'll give him the pass word, instead of taking it from him; that will make up for past mistakes." the sentinel saluted the new comer with a most profound courtesy, and, shouldering his spear, marched hastily past him, ogling him with a sidelong knowing look. "tako mi marie!"[ ] "tako mi marie!" responded the man, adding to himself, "but this is fortunate; the fellow must be crazy. i thought i should have had to brain him at least." as he passed by, the sentinel stood still, watching him, and muttered, "how should i know but castriot himself is in that dog's hide." the dog turned and, attracted by the soldier's attitude, uttered a low growl. "tako mi marie! and all the other saints in heaven too, but i believe it is the general in disguise," said the sentinel. "tako mi marie!" said the stranger saluting the various guards, whom he passed without further challenge, through the town gates and up to the main street. the great well, from which the beleaguered inhabitants of sfetigrade drew the only water now accessible, since the turks had so closely invested the town, was not far from the citadel. it was very deep, having been cut through the great layers of rock upon which the upper town stood. above it was a great wheel, over the outer edge of which ran an endless band of leather; the lower end dipping into the water that gleamed faintly far below. leathern sockets attached to this belt answered for buckets, which, as the wheel was turned, lifted the water to the top, whence it ran into a great stone trough. the well was guarded by a curb of stones which had originally been laid compactly together; but many of them had been removed, and used to hurl down from the walls of the citadel upon the heads of the turks when they tried to scale them. the dog, panting with the heat, mounted one of the remaining stones, and stretched his long neck far down to sniff the cool water which glistened a hundred feet below him. the man shouted angrily to the beast, and so clumsily attempted to drag him away that both dog and stone were precipitated together into the well. "a grapple! a rope!" shouted the man to a crowd who had seen the accident from a distance. "will no one bring one?" he cried with apparent anger at their slow movements--"then i must get one myself." the crowd rushed toward the well. the man disappeared in the opposite direction. it was several hours before the dead dog was taken from the polluted water. the dibrian soldiers refused to drink from it. the superstition communicated itself like an epidemic, to the other inhabitants. for a day or two bands sallied from sfetigrade, and brought water from the plain: but it was paid for in blood, for the turkish armies, aware of the incident almost as soon as it occurred, drew closer their lines, and stationed heavy detachments of janizaries at the springs and streams for miles around. the horrors of a water-famine were upon the garrison. in vain did the officers rebuke the insane delusion. the common soldiers, not only would not touch the water, but regarded the accident as a direct admonition from heaven that the town must be surrendered. appeals to heroism, patriotism, honor, were less potent than a silly notion which had grown about the minds of an otherwise noble people--as certain tropical vines grow so tough and in such gradually lessening spirals about a stalwart tree that they choke the ascending sap and kill it. they who would have drunk were prevented by the others who covered the well with heavy pieces of timber, and stood guard about it. footnote: [ ] help me, mary! chapter xxvi. in vain did castriot assault the turks who were intrenched about the wells and springs in the neighborhood. now and then a victory over them would be followed by a long procession from the town, rolling casks, carrying buckets, pitchers, leather bottles and dug-out troughs. the amount of water thus procured but scarcely sufficed to keep life in the veins of the defenders: it did not suffice to nourish heart and courage. it was foreseen that sfetigrade must fall. constantine was in the madness of despair about morsinia. her fate in the event of capture was simply horrible to contemplate. yet she could hardly hope to make her way through the turkish lines. constantine was at the camp with castriot when it was announced that the enemy had at length got possession of every approach to the town, so that there was no communication between the albanians within and those without, except by signaling over the heads of the turks. castriot determined upon a final attack, during which, if he should succeed in uncovering any of the gates of the town, the people might find egress. constantine begged to be allowed the hazardous duty of entering, by passing in disguise through the turkish army, and giving the endangered people the exact information of castriot's purpose. taking advantage of his former experience, he donned the uniform of a janizary, easily learned the enemy's password, and at the moment designated to the besieged by castriot's signal--just as the lower star of the great dipper disappeared behind the cliff--he emerged from the dense shadows of an angle of the wall. he was scarcely opposite the gate when the drawbridge lowered and rose quickly. the portcullis was raised and dropped an instant later, and he was within the town. throwing off his disguise, he went at once toward the commandant's quarters to deliver despatches from castriot. but a shout preceded him-- "the destroyer! the destroyer! death to the destroyer!" multitudes, awakened by the shouting, came from the houses and soldiers' quarters. constantine was seized by the crowd, who yelled: "to the well with him! let the dog's soul come into him!" he was borne along as helplessly as a leaf in the foaming cataract. "to the well! to the well with the poisoner!" the cry grew louder and shriller; the multitude maddening under the intense fury of their mutual rage, as each coal is hotter when many glow with it in the fire. women mingled with soldiers, shrieking their insane vengeance, until the crowd surged with the victim around the well. the planks were torn off by strong hands. the horror of the deed they were about to commit made them pause. each waited for his neighbor to assume the desperate office of actually perpetrating what was in all their hearts to do. at length three of the more resolute stepped forward as executioners of the popular will. the struggling form of constantine was held erect that all might see him. torches waved above his head. one stood upon the well curb, and, dropping a torch into the dark abyss, cried with a loud voice-- "so let his life be put out who destroys us all!" "so let it be!" moaned the crowd; the wildness of their wrath somewhat subdued by the impressiveness of the tragedy they were enacting. the well hissed back its curse as the burning brand sunk into the water. but a new apparition burst upon the scene. suddenly, as if it had risen from the well, a form draped in white stood upon the curb. her long golden hair floated in the strong wind. her face, from sickness white as her robe, had an unearthly pallor from the excitement, and seemed to be lit with the white heat of her soul. her sunken eyes gave back the flare of the torches, as if they gleamed with celestial reprobation. "the holy virgin!" cried some. "one of the vili!" cried others. the crowd surged back in ghostly fear. "neither saint nor sprite am i," cried morsinia. "your own wicked hearts make you fear me. it is your consciences that make you imagine a simple girl to be a vengeful spirit, and shrink from this horrid murder, to the very brink of which your ignorance and wretched superstition have led you. blessed mary need not come from heaven to tell you that a man--a man for whom her son jesu died--should not be made to die for the sake of a dead dog. i, a child, can tell you that." "but the well is accursed and the people die," said a monk, throwing back his cowl, and reaching out his hand to seize her. "and such words from you, a priest of jesu!" answered the woman, warding him off by the scathing scorn of her tones. "did not jesu say, 'come unto me and drink, drink out of my veins as ye do in holy sacrament?' will he curse and kill, then, for drinking the water which you need, because a dog has fallen into it?" these words, following the awe awakened by her unexpected appearance, stayed the rage of the crowd for a moment. but soon the murmur rose again-- "to the well!" "he is a murderer!" "it is just to take vengeance on a murderer!" the woman raised her hand as if invoking the witness of heaven to her cause, and exclaimed-- "but _i_ am not a murderer. a curse on him who slays the innocent. i will be the sacrifice. i fear not to drink of this well with my dying gasp. unhand the man, or, as sure as heaven sees me, i shall die for him!" a shudder of horror ran through the crowd as the light form of the young woman raised itself to the very brink of the well. it seemed as if a movement, or a cry, would precipitate her into the black abyss. the crowd was paralyzed. the silence of the dead fell upon them, as she leaned forward for the awful plunge. those holding constantine let go their grip. at this moment the commandant appeared. he had, indeed, been a silent witness of the scene, and was not unwilling that the superstition of the soldiers should thus have a vent, thinking that with the sacrifice of the supposed offender they might be satisfied, and led to believe that the spirit of the well was appeased. he hoped that thus they might be induced to drink the water. but he recoiled from permitting the sacrifice of this innocent person, lest it should blacken the curse already impending. "i will judge this case," he cried. "man, who are you?" "i bear you orders from general castriot," replied constantine, handing him a document. by the light of a torch the officer read, "in the event of being unable to hold out, signal and make a sally according to directions to be given verbally by the bearer. castriot." turning to the crowd, the commandant addressed them. "brave men! epirots and dibrians! we are being led into some mistake. my message makes it evident that on this man's life depends the life of every one of us----" his voice was drowned by wild cries that came from a distant part of the town. the cries were familiar enough to all their ears; but they had heretofore heard them only from beneath the walls without. they were the turkish cries of assault. "allah! allah! allah! allah!" rolled like a hurricane along the streets of sfetigrade. the gates had been thrown open by some dibrian, whom superstition and a thirst-fevered brain had transformed into a traitor. "quick!" cried constantine. "fire three powder flashes from the bastion, and follow me." "brave girl!" said he to morsinia, grasping her hand and drawing her toward the citadel. "it is too late!" replied the commandant. "all the ports are occupied by the enemy. we can but die in the streets." "to the north gate, then! burst it open, and cut your way to the east. castriot will meet you there. i will to the bastion." "we must go with them," said morsinia. "better die in the streets than be taken here." "no, you shall not die, my good angel. i have prepared for this. first, i will fire the signal." in a few seconds three flashes illumined the old battlements. returning to morsinia, he said quietly, "i have prepared for this," and unwound from about his body a strong cord, looped at intervals so that it could be used for a ladder. fastening this securely, he dropped the end over the wall. descending part way himself, he opened the loops one by one for the feet of his companion; and thus they reached a narrow ledge some twenty feet below the parapet. from this to the next projection broad enough to stand upon, the rock was steep but slanting; so that, while one could not rest upon it, it would largely overcome the momentum of the descent. fastening a cord securely beneath the arms of morsinia, he let her down the slope to the lower ledge. then, tying the rope to that above, he descended himself to her side. from this point the path was not dangerous to one possessed of perfect presence of mind, and accustomed to balance the body on one foot at a time. thanks to her mountain life, and the strong stimulus to brain and nerve acquired by her familiarity with danger, morsinia was undizzied by the elevation. thus they wound their way toward the east side of the wall; and, as they neared the base of the cliff, sat down to reconnoitre. above them frowned the walls of the citadel. just beneath them were many forms, moving like spectres in the darkness which was fast dissolving into the gray morning twilight. the voices which came up to their ears proved that they were turks. for morsinia to pass through them without detection would be impossible. to remain long where they were would be equally fatal. but their anxiety was relieved by a well known bugle-call. at first it sounded far away to the north. "iscanderbeg! iscanderbeg!" cried the turks, as they were deployed to face the threatening assault. but scarcely had they formed in their new lines when the sound, as of a storm bursting through a forest, indicated that the attack was from the south. taking the turks who were still outside the walls at a disadvantage, castriot's force made terrible havoc among them, sweeping them back pell-mell past the eastern front and around the northern, so as to leave the north gate clear for the escape of any who might emerge from it. but, alas, for the valor of the commandant and the noble men who followed him! few succeeded in cutting their way through the swarm of enemies that had already occupied the streets of sfetigrade. this movement, however, enabled constantine and morsinia to descend from their dangerous eyrie. the apparition of their approach from that direction was a surprise to the general. "why, man, do you ride upon bats and night-hawks, that you have flown from yonder crag? i shall henceforth believe in radisha and his beautiful demon. and may i pray thy care for myself in battle, my fair lady?" chapter xxvii. the fall of sfetigrade, while a material loss to the albanian cause, served rather to exalt than to diminish the prestige of their great general. the fame of scanderbeg brightened as the gloomy tidings of the fate of the stronghold spread; for that event, due to a circumstance which no human being could control, gave his enemies their first success, after nearly seven years of incessant effort, with measureless armaments, innumerable soldiery and exhaustless treasure. the adversity also developed in scanderbeg new qualities of greatness, both military and moral. as the effort to drain a natural spring only evokes its fuller and freer flow, so disappointment augmented his courage, impoverishment in resources enlarged the scheme of his projects, and the defeat of one plan by circumstances suggested other plans more novel and shrewd. the sight of the turkish ensign floating from the citadel of sfetigrade disheartened the patriots. the tramp of fresh legions from almost all parts of the moslem world was not so ominous of further disaster as were the whispers of discontent from more than one who, like amesa, had ambitions of their own, or, like brave moses goleme, were discouraged regarding ultimate success. but the great heart of castriot sustained the courage of his people, and his genius devised plans for the defence of his land which, for sixteen years yet, were to baffle the skill and weary the energies of the foe. the chief gave orders that morsinia, having eluded capture, should occupy for the day his own tent; for the albanian soldiers, as a rule, were destitute of the luxury of a canvas covering. returning toward the middle of the morning, and having need to enter, he bade constantine call her. no response being given, castriot raised the curtain of the tent. upon a rude matting, which was raised by rough boards a few inches from the earth, her limbs covered with an exquisitely embroidered turkish saddle cloth, morsinia lay asleep. her neck and shoulders were veiled with her hair, which, rich and abundant, fell in cascades of golden beauty upon the ground. the great man stood for a moment gazing upon the sleeping girl. his ordinarily immobile features relaxed. his face, generally passionless, unreadable as that of the sphinx, and impressive only for the mystery of the thoughts it concealed, now became suffused with kindly interest. his smile, as if he had been surprised by the fairness of the vision, was followed by a look of fatherly tenderness. the tears shot into his eyes; but with a deep breath he dropped the curtain, and turned away. of what was he thinking? of little mara cernoviche, his playmate far back in the years? or of himself during those years? strange that career among the turks! and equally strange all the years since he had looked upon the little child asleep by the camp fire at the foot of the balkans! one who gazed into his face at that moment would have discovered that the rough warrior spirit was an outer environment about a gentle and loving nature. he was interrupted by officers crowding about him, bringing intelligence of the enemy, or asking questions relative to the immediate movements of their own commands. these were answered in laconic sentences, each one a flash of strategic wisdom. in the first leisure he put his hand fondly upon constantine's head, and said quietly as he seated himself upon a rock near the tent door-- "tell me of last night." as constantine narrated what the reader is already familiar with, dwelling especially upon morsinia's part in the scene at the well, and her courage in the descent from the wall, scanderbeg exclaimed eagerly-- "a true daughter of musache de streeses and mara cernoviche! the very impersonation of our albania! her spirit is that of our heroic people, fair as our lakes and as noble as our mountains! but these scenes are too rough for her. her soul is strong enough to endure; but so is the diamond strong enough to keep its shape and lustre amid the stones which the freshet washes together. but it is not well that it should be left to do so. besides, the diamond's strength and inviolable purity will not prevent a robber from stealing it. there are envious eyes upon our treasure. we had better have our diamond cut and set and put away in a casket for a while. we will send her to constantinople. there she will have opportunity to gain in knowledge of the world, and in the courtly graces which fit her princely nature." "would not italy be better?" suggested constantine. "no," said scanderbeg. "the italians are uncertain allies. i know not whom to trust across the adriatic. but phranza, the chamberlain at constantinople, is a noble man. i knew him years ago when i was stationed across the bosphorus, and had committed to me nearly all the ottoman affairs, so far as they affected the greek capital. he is one of the few greeks we may implicitly trust. and, moreover, he agrees with me in seeking a closer alliance between our two peoples. if the christian power at constantinople could be roused against the turk on the east, while we are striking him on the west, we could make the moslem wish he were well out of europe. but italy will do nothing." "the holy father can help, can he not?" asked constantine. "the holy father does not to-day own himself. he is the mere foot-ball of the secular powers, who kick him against one another in their strife. no, our hope is in putting some life into the old greek empire at constantinople. the dolt of an emperor, john, is dead, thanks to azrael[ ]! in constantine, who has come to the throne, christendom has hope of something better than to see the heir of the empire of the cæsars dancing attendance upon italian dukes; seeking agreement with the pope upon words of a creed which no one can understand; and demoralizing, with his uncurtained harem, the very turk. if the new emperor has the sense of a flea he will see that the moslem power will have constantinople within a decade, unless the nations can be united in its defence. i would send letters to phranza, and you must be my envoy. with morsinia there, we shall be free from anxiety regarding her; for no danger threatens her except here in her own land--to our shame i say it. a venetian galley touches weekly at durazzo, and sails through the corinthian gulf. you will embark upon that to-morrow night." "but colonel kabilovitsch?" inquired constantine. "he has already started for durazzo, and will make all arrangements. nothing is needed here but a comely garment for morsinia, who left sfetigrade with a briefer toilet than most handsome women are willing to make. colonel kabilovitsch will see that you are provided with money and detailed instructions for the journey." a soldier appeared with a bundle. "a rough lady's maid!" said the general, "but a useful one i will warrant." unrolling the bundle, it proved to be a rich, but plain, dress, donated from a neighboring castle. an hour later scanderbeg held morsinia by both hands, looking down into her eyes. it was a picture which should have become historic. the giant form of the grim old warrior contrasted fully with that of the maiden, as some gnarled oak with the flower that grows at its base. "keep good heart, my daughter," said the general, imprinting a kiss upon her fair brow. she replied with loving reverence in her tone and look, "i thank you, sire, for that title; for the father of his country has the keeping of the hearts of all the daughters of albania." it were difficult to say whether the sweet loveliness in the lines of her face, or the majesty of character and superb heroism that shone through them, gave her the greater fascination as she added, "if jesu wills that among strangers i can best serve my country, there shall be my home." "but you will not long be among strangers. your goodness will make them all friends. beside, god will keep such as you, for he loves the pure and beautiful." morsinia blushed as she answered, "and does god not love the true and the noble? so he will keep thee and albania. does not the sun send down her[ ] beams as straight over constantinople as over croia? and does she not draw the mists by as short a cord of her twisted rays from the marmora as from the adriatic? then god can be as near us there as here; and our prayers for thee and our land will go as speedily to the great heart over all. the blessed mary keep you, sire!" "ay, the blessed mary spake the blessing through your lips, my child," responded scanderbeg as he lifted her to her horse. constantine released himself from the general's hearty embrace, and sprang into the saddle at her side. preceded and followed by a score of troopers they disappeared in the deep shadows of a mountain path. footnotes: [ ] the death angel. [ ] in albanian speech the sun is feminine. chapter xxviii. durazzo lies upon a promontory stretching out into the adriatic. the walls which surrounded it at the time of our story, told, by the weather-wear of their stones, the different ages during which they had guarded the little bay that lies at the promontory's base. a young monk,[ ] barletius, to whom colonel kabilovitsch introduced the voyagers, as a travelling companion for a part of their journey, pointed out the great and rudely squared boulders in the lower course of masonry, as the work of the ancient corcyreans, centuries before the coming of christ. the upper courses, he said, were stained with the blood of the greek soldiers of alexius, when the norman robert guiscard assaulted the place, hundreds and hundreds of years ago. indeed, to the monk's historic imagination, the world seemed still wrapped in the mists of the older ages; and, just as the low lying haze, with its mirage effect, contorted the rocks along the shore into domes and pinnacles, so did his fancy invest every object with the greatness of the history with which the old manuscripts had made him familiar. while morsinia listened with a strange entertainment to his rhapsodic narrations, constantine was busy studying the graceful lines of the venetian half-galley that lay at the base of the cliff, and upon which they were to embark; her low deck, cut down in the centre nearly to the water's edge; her sharp, swan-necked prow raised high in air, and balanced by the broad elevation at the stern; the lateen sail that, furled on its boom, hung diagonally against the slender mast; the rows of holes at the side, through which in calm weather the oars were worked; the gay pennant from the mast-head, and the broad banner at the stern, which spread to the light breeze the lion of st. mark. they were soon gliding out of the harbor of durazzo, at first under the regularly timed stroke of a score of oarsmen. rounding the promontory, the west wind filled the sail; and, careening to the leeward, the galley danced toward the south through the light spray of the billows which sung beneath the prow like the strings of a zither. perhaps it was this music of the waves--or it may have been that the wind was blowing straight across from italy; or, possibly, it was the beauty of the maiden reclining upon the cushioned dais of the stern deck--that led the weather-beaten sailing master to take the zither, and sing one after another of petrarch's love songs to laura. though his voice was as hoarse as the wind that crooned through the cordage, and his language scarcely intelligible, the flow of the melody told the sentiment. constantine's eyes sought the face of his companion, as if for the first time he had detected that she was beautiful. and perhaps for the first time in her life morsinia felt conscious that constantine was looking at her;--for she generally withstood his gaze with as little thought of it as she did that of the sky, or of kabilovitsch. even the monk turned his eyes from the magnificent shores of albania, with their beetling headlands and receding bays, to cast furtive glances upon the maiden. the monk's face was a striking one. he was pale, if not from holy vigil, from pouring over musty secular tomes. he had caught the spirit of the revival of learning which, notwithstanding all the superstition of ecclesiastics, was first felt in the cloisters of the church. his forehead was high, but narrow; his eyes mild, yet lustrous; his lower features almost feminine. one familiar with men would have said, "here is a man of patient enthusiasm for things intellectual, a devotee to the ideal. he may be a philosopher, a poet, an artist; but he could never make a soldier, a diplomat, or even a lover, except of the most platonic sort. just the man for a monk. if all monks were like him, the church would be enriched indeed; but, if all like him were monks, the world would be the poorer." among other passengers was a greek monk, gennadius. this man's full beard and long curly forelocks hanging in front of his ears, were in odd contrast with the smooth face and shaven head of the latin monk. though strangers, they courteously saluted each other. however sharp might be the differences in their religious notions, they soon felt the fraternity such as cultured minds and great souls realize in the presence of the sublimities of nature. they studied each other's faces with agreeable surprise as the glories about them drew from their lips vivid outbursts of descriptive eloquence, in which, speaking the latin or greek with almost equal facility, they quoted from the classic poets with which they were equally familiar. as the galley turned eastward into the corinthian gulf there burst upon them a panorama of natural splendor combined with classic enchantment, such as no other spot on the earth presents. the mountainous shores lay about the long and narrow sea, like sleeping giants guarding the outflow of some sacred fountain. back of the northern coast rose, like waking sentinels, the helicon and parnassus, towering thousands of feet into the air; their tops helmeted in ice and plumed with fleecy clouds. the western sun poured upon the track of the voyagers floods of golden lustre which lingered on the still waters, flashed in rainbows from the splashing oars, gilded with glory the hither slope of every projection on either shore, and filled the great gorges beyond with dark purple shadows. as morsinia reclined with her head resting on constantine's shoulder, and drank in the gorgeous, yet quieting, scene, the two monks stood with uncovered heads and, half embracing, chanted together in greek one of the oldest known evening hymns of the christian church. in free translation, it ran thus:-- "o jesu, the christ! glad light of the holy! the brightness of god, the father in heaven! at setting of sun, with hearts that are lowly, we praise thee for life this day thou hast given." "i love that hymn," said gennadius, "because it was written long before the schism which rent the holy church into latin and greek." "we will rejoice, then, that by the inspiration of the holy father, eugenius, and the assent of your patriarch, the wound in the body of christ has, after six centuries, at last been healed," replied barletius. "i fear that the healing is but seeming," said the greek. "i was a member of the council of florence, and know the motives of the men who composed it, and the exact meaning of the agreement--which means nothing. your pope cares not a scrap of tinsel from his back for the true christian dogma; and while his ambition led him to desire to become the uniter of christendom, his own bishops, who know him well, were gathered in synod at basil, and pronounced him heretic, perjurer and debauchee." "but you greeks were doubtless more honest," said barletius, with a tone and look of sarcasm. "humph!" grunted gennadius, walking away; but turning about quickly he added, "how could we be honest when, for the sake of the union, we assented to a denial of our most sacred dogmas by allowing the _filioque_?[ ] it is not in the power of men living to change the truth as expressed through all past ages in the creed of the true church. our emperor yielded the points to the latins; but holy mark of ephesus and prince demetrius, our emperor's brother, did not. they retired in disgust from italy. why, the very dog of the emperor, that lay on his foot-cloth, scented the heresy to which his master was about to subscribe, and protested against the sacrilege by baying throughout the reading of the act of union. and i learn that the clergy and populace at byzantium are foaming with rage at this impiety of our latinizing emperor. i am hasting thither that i may utter my voice, too, in my cell in prayer, and from the pulpit of st. sophia, against the unholy alliance." "yet," said barletius, with scorn, "your emperor and church authorities subscribed. what sort of a divine spirit do you greeks possess, that prompts you to confess what you do not believe?" "i feel your taunt," replied gennadius. "it is both just and unjust. have not some of your own prelates lately taught that the end justifies the means? the union, though wrong in itself, was justified--according to latin ethics--by the result to be secured, the safety of both greek and latin churches from being conquered by the turks. our eastern empire, the glory of the later cæsars, has already become reduced to the suburbs of byzantium. the empire of justinian and theodosius has not to-day ten thousand soldiers to withstand the myriads of the sultan. there must be union. we must have soldiers, even if we buy them with the price of an article of the creed--nay the loan of the article--for the union will not stand when danger has passed. conscience alone is one thing: conscience under necessity--i speak the ethics of you latins--is another thing. but i abhor the deceit. your bishop, whom you call pope, has no reverence from our hearts, though we were to kiss his toe. you are idolaters with your images of mary and the saints. _filioque_ is a lie!" cried the greek, giving vent to his prejudice and spite. barletius in the meantime had felt other emotions than the holiest being kindled within him by these hot words of his companion; and when the greek had flashed his unseemly denunciation at _filioque_, the latin's soul burst in responsive rage. but he was not accustomed to harsh debate. words were consumed upon his hot lips, or choked in his fury-dried throat. his frame trembled with the pent wrath. his hands clenched until the nails cut into the flesh. but alas for the best saintship, if temptation comes before canonization! the thin hand was raised, and it fell upon the holy brother's face. the blow was returned. but neither of them had been trained to carnal strife, nor had they the skill and strength to do justice to their noble rage. constantine, who leaped forward to act as peace-maker, stopped to laugh at the strange pose of the antagonists; for the greek had valiantly seized the cowl of the latin, and drawn it down over his face; while barletius' thin fingers were wriggling through gennadius' beard, and both were prancing as awkwardly as one-day-old calves about the narrow deck, with the imminent prospect of cooling their spirits by immersion in the water. the presence of this danger led constantine to separate the scufflers; although his laughter at the contestants had made his limbs almost as limp as theirs. the ecclesiastical champions stood glaring their celestial resentment, the one white, the other red, like two statues of burlesque gladiators carved respectively in marble and porphyry. the conflict might have been renewed had not morsinia risen from her cushion, and approached them. but no sooner did gennadius realize the danger of having so much as his gown touched by a woman, than he bolted to the other end of the galley, and sat down, with fright and shame, upon a coil of ropes. the greek had been trained at the monastery on mount athos. from that masculine paradise the fair daughters of eve were as carefully excluded as if they were still the agents of satan, and sent by the devil to work the ruin of those who, by lofty meditation and unnatural asceticism, would return to the pre-marital adamic state of innocence. during the long twilight, and when the night left only the outlines of the mountains sharply defined high up against the star-lit sky, gennadius still sat motionless; his legs crossed beneath him; his head dropped upon his bosom. he gave no response to the salutation of the attendant who brought him the evening meal: nor would he touch it. when the sailors sung the songs whose melody floated over the sea, keeping time to the cadences of the light waves which bent but did not break the surface, the monk put his fingers into his ears. he tried to drive out worldly thoughts by recalling those precepts of an ancient saint which, for four hundred years, had been prescribed at mount athos for those who would quiet their perturbed souls and rise into the upper light of god. they were such as these. "seat thyself in a corner; raise thy mind above all things vain and transitory; recline thy beard and chin upon thy breast; turn thy eyes and thoughts toward the middle of thy belly, the region of the navel; and search the place of the heart, the seat of the soul, which when discovered will be involved in a mystic and ethereal light." barletius, equally chagrined by his display of temper before the laity, sought relief by inflicting upon himself a task of pater nosters, which he tallied off on his beads, made of olive-wood and sent him by a learned monk at bethlehem. when his punishment seemed accomplished, morsinia asked him, "good father, why did you quarrel with the stranger?" barletius entered into a long explanation of the faith of the roman church at the point challenged by the greek. "i understand your words," said morsinia, "but i do not understand their meaning." "it is not necessary that you should, my child. if holy church understands, it is enough. a child may not understand all that the mother knows; yet believes the mother's word. so should you believe what mother church says." "i would believe every word that mother church speaks, even though i do not understand why she speaks it," said morsinia reverently. "but how can one believe another's words when one does not know what they mean; when they give no thought? now what you say about the 'procession of the spirit,' and the 'begetting of the son,' i do not get any clear thought about; and how then can i believe it in my heart." the monk cast a troubled look upon the fair inquirer, and replied-- "then you must simply believe in holy church which believes the truth." "and say i believe the creed, when i only believe that the church believes the creed?" queried the girl. "it is enough. happy are you if you seek to know no more. beware of an inquisitive mind. it leads one astray from truth, as a wayward disposition soon departs from virtue. credo! credo! credo! help thou mine unbelief! should be your prayer. restrain your thoughts as the helmsman yonder keeps our prow on the narrow way we are going. how soon you would perish if you should attempt to find your way alone out there on the deep! woe to those who, like these wretched greeks, depart from truth, and teach men so. anathema, maranatha!" "but, tell me, good father, can that be necessary to be believed, about which whole nations, like the greeks, differ from other nations, like the latins? i have seen greeks at their worship, and bowed with them, and felt that god was near and blessing us all. and i have heard them say, when they were dying, that they saw heaven open; and they reached out their arms to be taken by the angels. does not jesu save them, though they may err about that which we trust to be the truth?" "my child, you must not think of these things," said barletius kindly. "it is better that you sleep now. the air is growing chill. wrap your cloak closely even beneath the deck." he walked away, repeating a line from virgil as he scanned the star-gemmed heavens. "suadentque cadentia sidera somnos." wrapping his hood close over his face, he lay down upon the deck. footnotes: [ ] marinus barletius, a latin monk of the time, has given us in his chronicles, the most extended account of scanderbeg. [ ] filioque; "and the son." the latin church holds that the holy spirit proceeds from the father _and the son_. the greeks deny the latter part of the proposition. chapter xxix. two new comers joined the party at corinth, where, crossing the isthmus on horses, they re-embarked. one was giustiniani, a genoese, of commanding form and noble features, the very type of chivalric gentility, bronzed by journeyings under various skies, and scarred with the memorials of heroic soldiership on many fields. the other was a dacian, short of stature, with broad and square forehead, and a crooked neck which added to the sinister effect of his squinting eyes. "well, urban," said the genoese, "you still have confidence in your new ordnance, and think that saltpetre and charcoal are to take the place of the sword, and that every lout who can strike a fire will soon be a match for a band of archers:--eh!" "yes, sire, and if the emperor would only allow me a few hundred ducats, i would cast him a gun which, from yonder knoll, would heave a stone of five talents'[ ] weight, and crash through any galley ever floated from the docks of genoa or venice. four such guns on either side would protect this isthmus from a fleet. but, i tell you, noble giustiniani, that without taking advantage of our new science, the emperor cannot hold out long against the turk. the turk is using gunpowder. he is willing to learn, and has already learned, what the emperor will find out to his cost, that the walls of constantinople itself cannot long endure the battering of heavy cannon." "you are right, urban," replied the genoese. "the turk is also ahead of us in the art of approaching citadels. i have no doubt that his zigzag trenches[ ] give the assailant almost equality with the besieged in point of safety. i will gladly use my influence at the court of byzantium in behalf of your scheme for founding large cannon, urban; if, perchance, the defence of the empire may receive a tithe of the treasure now squandered in princely parades and useless embassages." the galley glided smoothly through the little gulf of Ægina, with its historic bays of eleusis and salamis. giustiniani and urban discussed the disposition of the greek and persian fleets during the ancient fight at salamis, as they moved under the steep rocky hill on which xerxes sat to witness the battle. they soon rounded the headland, opposite the tomb of themistocles, and anchored in the harbor of the piræus. this port of athens was crowded with shipping. there were spanish galleasses like floating castles, with huge turrets at stem and stern, rowed by hundreds of galley slaves. other vessels of smaller size floated the standard of france. those of the maritime cities of italy vied with one another in the exquisite carving of their prows and the gaiety of their banners. the chief attention was centred upon a splendid galley of byzantium, whose deck was covered with silken awnings, beneath which a band of music floated sweet strains over the waters. this was the vessel of the imperial chamberlain, phranza, who, having been entertained in athens with honors befitting his dignity, was now about to return to constantinople. giustiniani ordered his galley alongside of that of the chamberlain, by whom he was received with distinguishing favors. constantine took this opportunity to deliver, through the genoese, scanderbeg's letters to phranza. they were read with evident gratification by the chamberlain. with a hearty welcome, not devoid of some curiosity on his part, as he scrutinized the appearance of the strangers, he invited constantine and his companion to complete their journey in his galley. morsinia was at first as much dazed by the splendor, as she was mortified by her ignorance of the formalities, with which she was received. but the natural dignity of her bearing stood her in good stead of more courtly graces: for these modern greeks emulated those of ancient times in the reverence they paid to womanly beauty. the chamberlain was somewhat past middle life. he was a man whose studious habits, as the great historian of his times, did not dull his brilliancy as the master of etiquette. nor had his astuteness as a statesman been acquired by any sacrifice of his taste for social intrigues. the diversions from the cares of state, which other great men have found at the gaming-table or in their cups, phranza sought in studying the mysteries of female character; admiring its virtues, and yet not averse to finding entertainment in its foibles. a true greek, he believed that physical beauty was the index of the rarer qualities of mind and heart. he would have been a consenting judge at the trial of that beautiful woman in the classic story, the perfection of whose unrobed form disproved the charge of her crime. he was such an ardent advocate of the absolute authority of the emperor that, though of decided aristocratic tendencies, he held that no marriage alliance, however high the rank of the bride, could add to the dignity of the throne: indeed, that beauty alone could grace the couch of a king; that the first of men should wed the fairest of women, and thus combine the aristocracy of rank with the aristocracy of nature. he had frequent opportunities to express his peculiar views on this subject; for, among the problems which then perplexed his statecraft, was that of the marriage of the emperor--that the succession might not be left to the hazard of strife among the families of the blood of the palæologi. had the choice of the royal spouse been left entirely in his hands, he would have made the selection on no other principle than that adopted by the purveyor of plumage for the court, who seeks the rarest colors without regard to the nesting-place of the bird. the genuine politeness of the courtier, together with morsinia's womanly tact in adapting herself to her new environment, soon relieved her from the feeling of restraint, and the hours of the voyage passed pleasantly. her conversation, which was free from the conventionalities of the day, was, for this very reason, as refreshing to phranza as the simple forms of nature--the mountain stream, the tangles of vines and wild flowers--are to the habitués of cities. there was a native poetry in her diction, an artlessness in her questions, and a transparent honesty in her responses. indeed, her very manner unveiled the features of so exalted and healthy a mind, of a disposition so frank and ingenuous, of a character so delicately pure and exquisitely beautiful, that they compensated many fold any lack of artificial culture. the great critic of woman forgot to study her face: he only gazed upon it. he ceased to analyze her character: he simply felt her worth. but no fairness of a maiden, be she albanian or greek, can long monopolize the attention of an elderly man whose swift vessel bears him through the clustering glories of the Ægean. nor could any awe for his rank, or interest in his learned conversation, absorb morsinia from these splendors which glowed around her. they gazed in silence upon the smooth and scarcely bending sea, which, like a celestial mirror, reflected all the hues of the sky--steely blue dissolving into softest purple; white mists transfused by sunset's glow into billows of fire; monolithic islands flashing with the colors of mighty agates in the prismatic air; clouds white as snow and clear cut as diamonds, lifting themselves from the horizon like the "great white throne" that st. john saw from the cliffs of patmos yonder. crossing the Ægean, the voyagers hugged the old trojan coast until off the straits of the hellespont. they lay during a day under the lee of yeni sheyr shoals, and at night ran the gauntlet of the new turkish forts, khanak-kalesi and khalid-bahar, at the entrance to the sea of marmora. two days later there broke upon the view that most queenly of cities, byzantium, reclining upon the tufted couch of her seven hills, by the most lovely of seas, like a nymph beside her favorite fountain. the galley glided swiftly by the "seven towers," which guard on marmora the southern end of the enormous triple wall. the bastions and towers of this famous line of defenses cut their bold profile against the sky for a distance of five or six miles in a straight line, until the wall met the extremity of the golden horn on the north; thus making the city in shape like a triangle--the base of gigantic masonry; the sides of protecting seas. gay barges and kaiks shot out from the shore to form a welcoming pageant to the returning chamberlain. with easy oars they drifted almost in the shadows of the cypress trees which lined the bank and hid the residences of wealthy greek merchants and the pavilions of princes. the lofty dome of st. sophia flashed its benediction upon the travelers, and its challenge of a better faith far across the bosphorus to the asiatic moslem, whose minarets gleamed like spear-heads from beside their mosques. from the point where the golden horn meets the strait of the bosphorus and the sea of marmora, rose the palace of the emperor, embowered in trees, and surrounded with gardens which loaded the air with the perfume of rarest flowers and the song of birds. rounding the point into the golden horn, the grim old genoese tower of galata, on the opposite bank, saluted them with its drooping banner. they dropped anchor in the lovely harbor. strong arms with a few strokes sent the tipsy kaiks from the galley through the rippling water to the landing. an elegant palanquin brought the wife of phranza to meet her lord. another, which was designed for the chamberlain, he courteously assigned to morsinia; while constantine and the gentlemen of the suite mounted the gaily caparisoned horses that were in readiness. the chamberlain insisted upon morsinia and constantine becoming his guests, at least until their familiarity with the city should make it convenient for them to reside elsewhere. footnotes: [ ] a modern greek talent weighs english pounds. [ ] the present art of "slow approach" was an invention of the turks. chapter xxx. the house of phranza was rather a series of houses built about a square court, in which were parterres of rarest plants, divided from each other by walks of variegated marble, and moistened by the spray of fountains. morsinia's palanquin was let down just within the gateway. a young woman assisted her to alight, and conducted her to apartments elegantly furnished with all that could please a woman's eye, though she were the reigning beauty of a court, instead of one brought up as a peasant in a distant province, and largely ignorant of the arts of the toilet. she was bewildered with the strangeness of her surroundings, and sat down speechless upon the cushion to gaze about her. was she herself? it required the remembrance that constantine was somewhere near her to enable her to realize her own identity, and that she had not been changed by some fairy's wand into a real princess. "will my lady rest?" said the attendant, in softest greek. morsinia was familiar with this language, which was used more or less everywhere in servia and albania; but she had never heard it spoken with such sweetness. the words would have been restful to hear, though she had not understood their meaning. without hesitation she resigned herself to the hands of the servant, who relieved her of her outer apparel. another maiden brought a tray of delicate wafers of wheat, and flasks of light wine, with figs and dates. a curtain in the wall, being drawn, exposed the bath; a great basin of mottled marble, and a little fountain scattering a spray scented with roses. morsinia began to fear that she had been mistaken for some great lady, whose wardrobe was expected to be brought in massive chests, and whose personal ornaments would rival the toilet treasures of the queen of sheba. there entered opportunely several tire-women, laden with silks and linens, laces and shawls, every portion of female attire, in every variety of color and shape--from the strong buskin to the gauze veil so light that it will hide from the eye less than it reveals to the imagination. the guest was about to question her attendants, when one gave her a note, hastily written by constantine, and simply saying-- "be surprised at nothing." phranza had expressed to constantine the deep interest of the emperor in the career of scanderbeg, and his plans for morsinia. "scanderbeg," said he, "is the one hero of our degenerate age; the only arm not beaten nerveless by the blows of the turk. i have asked nothing concerning yourself, my young man; nor need i know more than that such a chieftain is interested in you and your charge. your great captain informs me (reading from a letter), that any service we may render you here will be counted as service to albania; and that any favor we may bestow upon the lady will be as if shown to his own child. is she of any kin to him?" "i may not speak of that," replied the youth, "except to tell that her blood is noble, and that general castriot has made her safety his care. an albanian needs but to know that this is the will of our loving and wise chieftain, to defend morsinia with his life." "you speak her name with familiarity," said phranza. "it is the custom of our people," replied constantine, coloring. "the trials of our country have thrown nobles and peasants into more intimate relations than would perhaps be allowed in a settled condition. this, too, may have influenced general castriot in sending her here, where her life may be more suitable to her gentle blood." "it is enough!" exclaimed phranza. "if our distance from albania, and our own pressing difficulties and dangers do not allow us to send aid to your hero, we can show him our respect and gratitude by treating her, whom he would have as his child, as if she were our own. and now for yourself--well! you shall have what, if i mistake you not, your discreet mind and lusty muscles most crave--an opportunity 'to win your spurs,' as the western knights would say. events are thickening into a crash, the out-come of which no one can foresee, except that the moslem or the christian shall hold all from the euxine to the adriatic. this double empire cannot long exist. scanderbeg's arms alone are keeping the sultan from trying again the strength of our walls. a disaster there; an assault here! you serve the one cause whether here or there." "i give my fealty to the emperor as i would to my general," replied the young man warmly. constantine found himself arrayed before night in the costume of a subaltern officer of the imperial guard, and assigned to quarters at the barracks in the section of the city near to the house of the chamberlain. his brief training under the eye of castriot, and his hazardous service, had developed his great natural talent for soldiership into marvellous acquirements for one of his years. with the foils, in the saddle, in mastery of tactics, in engineering ability displayed at the walls--which were being constantly strengthened--he soon took rank with the most promising. by courtesy of the chamberlain he was allowed the freest communication with morsinia, and was often the guest of her host; especially upon excursions of pleasure up the golden horn to the "sweet waters," along the western shore of the bosphorus, to the princess island, and such other spots on the sea of marmora as were uninfested by piratical turks. morsinia became the favorite not only of the wife of phranza, but of the ladies of the court, and the object of especial devotion on the part of the nobles and officers of the emperor's suite. but it would have required more saintliness of female disposition than was ever found in the court of a byzantine emperor, to have smothered the fires of jealousy, when, at a banquet given at the palace, morsinia was placed at the emperor's right hand. it might not be just to phranza to say that to his suggestion was due the praise of morsinia's beauty and queenly bearing, which the emperor overheard from many of the courtiers' lips. perhaps the charms of her person forced this spontaneous commendation from them: as it was asserted by some of the more elderly of the ladies--whom long study had made proficient in the art of reading kings' hearts from their faces, that the monarch found an esther in the albanian. the reigning beauty at the court of constantine palælogus at this time was the daughter of a genoese admiral. though not reputed for amiability, she won the friendship of morsinia by many delicate attentions. gifts of articles of dress, ornaments and such souvenirs as only one woman can select for another, seemed to mark her increasing attachment. a box of ebony, richly inlaid with mother of pearl, and filled with delicious confections, was one day the offering upon the shrine of her sisterly regard. the wife of phranza, in whose presence the box was opened, on learning the name of the donor, besought morsinia not to taste the contents; and giving a candied fig to a pet ape, the brute sickened and died before the night. an event contributed to the rumors which associated the name of the fair albanian with the special favors of the emperor. an embassage from the doge of venice had brightened the harbor with their galleys. a gondola sheathed in silver, floated upon the waters of the golden horn, like a white swan, and was moored at the foot of the palace garden--the gift of the doge. another, its counterpart, was in the harbor of venice--the possession of the daughter of the doge; but waiting to join its companion, if the imperial heart could be persuaded to accept with it the person of its princely owner. better than the ideal marriage of venice with the sea--the ceremony of which was annually observed--would be the marriage of the two seas, the adriatic and the Ægean; and the reunion of their families of confluent waters under the double banner of st. mark and byzantium. but the grand duke lucas notaris, who was also grand admiral of the empire, declared openly that he would sooner hold alliance with the turk than with a power representing that schismatic latin church. the hereditary nobles protested against such a menace to social order as, in their estimate, a recognition of a republic like venice would be. but it was believed that more potent in its influence over the emperor than these outcries, was the whisper of phranza that the silver gondola of venice was fairer than its possessor; and that queenly beauty awaited elsewhere the imperial embrace. no habitué of the court knew less of this gossip than morsinia herself; nor did she suspect any unusual attention paid her by the emperor to be other than an expression of regard for castriot, whose ward she was known to be. or if, when they were alone, his manner betrayed a fondness, she attributed it to his natural kindliness of disposition, or to that desire for recreation which persons in middle life, burdened with cares, find in the society of the young and beautiful; for no purpose of modesty could hide from morsinia the knowledge which her mirror revealed. she had, too, the highest respect for the piety of the emperor; the deepest sympathy with him in his distress for the evils which were swarming about his realm; and a true admiration for the courage of heart with which he bore up against them. it was therefore with a commingling of religious, patriotic, and personal interest that she gave herself up to his entertainment whenever he sought her society. that she might understand him the better, and be able to converse with him, she learned from phranza much of the history of recent movements, both without and within the empire. so expert had she become in these matters that the chamberlain playfully called her his prime minister. chapter xxxi. one evening the lower bosphorus and the golden horn were alive with barges and skiffs, which cut the glowing water with their spray-plumed prows and flashing blades. thus the tired day toilers were accustomed to seek rest, and the idlers of fashion endeavored to quicken their blood in the cool wind which, from the heights of the phrygian olympus, poured across the sea of marmora. the emperor, attended by one of his favorite pages, appeared upon the rocky slope which is now known as seraglio point. a number of boats, containing the ladies and gentlemen of the court, drew near to the shore. it was the custom of his majesty to accept the brief hospitality of one and another of these parties, and for the others to keep company with him; so that the evening sail was not unlike a saloon reception upon the water. the dais of phranza's boat was, on the evening to which we refer, occupied by morsinia alone; and, as the rowers raised the oars in salute of his majesty, he waved his hand playfully to the others, saying: "the chamberlain is so occupied to-day that he has no time to attend to his own household. i will take his place, with the permission of the dove of albania." "your majesty needs rest," said morsinia, making place for him at her side on the dais, which filled the stern of the barge, and over which hung a silken awning. "your face, sire, betokens too much thought to-day." throwing himself down, he replied lazily: "i would that our boat were seized by some sea sprite, and borne swift as the lightnings to where the sun yonder is making his rest, beyond the hellespont, beyond the pillars of hercules, beyond the world! but you shall be my sprite for the hour. your conversation, so different to that of the court, your charming arnaout accent, and thoughts as natural as your mountain flowers, always lead me away from myself." "i thank heaven, sire, if jesu gives to me that holy ministry," replied she blushing deeply and diverting the conversation. "but why are you so sad when everything is so beautiful about us? is it right to carry always the burden of empire upon your heart?" "alas!" replied he, "i must carry the burden while i can, for the time may not be far distant when i shall have no empire to burden me. events are untoward. while sultan amurath lives our treaty will prevent any attack upon the city. but if another should direct the moslem affairs, our walls yonder would soon shake with the assault of the enemy of christendom. nothing but the union of the christian powers can save us." "and you have the union with rome?" suggested morsinia. "a union of shadows to withstand an avalanche," replied the emperor. "the pope is impotent. he can only promise a score of galleys and his good offices with the powers. at the same time our monks have almost raised an insurrection against the throne for listening to the proposition of alliance to which my lamented brother subscribed during the last days of his reign." "but god," replied morsinia, "is wiser than we, and will not allow the throne of the righteous to be shaken. i have looked to-day at the marvellous dome of st. sophia. as i gazed into its mighty vault, and thought of the great weight of the stones which made it, i looked about to see upon what it rested. the light columns and walls, far spread, seemed all insufficient to support it. as i stood looking, i was at first so filled with fear that i dared not linger. but then i remembered that a great architect had made it; and that so it had stood for many centuries, and had trembled with songs of praise from millions upon millions of worshippers who in all these generations have gathered under it. then i stood as quietly beneath it as i am now under the great vault of the sky. and surely, sire, this christian empire was founded in deeper wisdom than that of the architect. are not the pillars of god's promises its sure support? have not holy men said that so long as the face of jesu[ ] looks down from above the great altar, the sceptre shall not depart from him who worships before it?" "but," said palælogus, "god rejects his people for their sins. the empire's misfortunes have not been greater than its crimes. as the rising mists return in rain, so the sins of constantinople, rising for centuries, will return with storms of righteous retribution. and i fear it will be in our day; for the clouds hang low, and mutter ominously, and there is no bright spot within the horizon." "say not so, my emperor!" cried morsinia earnestly. "a breath of wind is now scattering yonder cloud over olympus; and the lightest moving of god's will can do more. do you not remember the words of a holy father, which i have often heard one of our latin priests repeat to those fearful because of their past lives;--'beware lest thou carry compunctions for the past after thou hast repented and prayed. that is to doubt god's grace.' but i am a child, sire, and should not speak thus to the emperor." "a child?" said his majesty, gazing upon her superb form and strong womanly features. "well! a child can see as far into the sky as the most learned and venerable; and your faith, my child, rests me more than all the earth-drawn assurances of my counsellors. where have you learned so to trust? i would willingly spend my days in the convent of athos or monastir to learn it! but i fear me the holy monks have it not of so strong and serene a sort as yours." "i have learned it, sire, as my heart has read it from my own life. my years are scarcely more numerous than my rescues have been, when to human sight there was no escape from death, or what i dreaded worse than death. i have learned to hold a hand that i see not; and it has never failed. nor will it fail the anointed of the lord; for such thou art. but see! yonder comes my brother constantine. i know him from his rowing. they who learn the oars on mountain lakes never get the stroke they have who learn it at the sea." the emperor turning in the direction indicated, frowned, and said angrily, "your brother has forgotten the regulations, and is in danger of discipline for rowing within the lines allowed only to the court." the boat came nearer; not steadily, but turning to right and left, stopping and starting as if directed by something at a distance which the rower was watching. the emperor's attention was turned almost at the same instant to a light boat shooting toward them from an opposite direction. the occupant of this was a monk. his black locks, mingled with his black beard, gave a wildness to his appearance, which was increased by the excited and rapid manner of his propelling the craft. "something unusual has occurred, or they would wait the finding of another messenger than he," said the emperor. the monk's boat glided swiftly. when within a few yards of the barge in which the emperor was the man stood up, his eyes flashing, and his whole attitude that of some vengeful fiend. "hold!" shouted the rowers of the royal barge, endeavoring to turn the craft so as to avoid a collision. "the man is crazed!" said morsinia. but at the instant when the two boats would have come together, another, that of constantine, shot between them and received the blow. its thin sides were broken by the shock. the monk who had come to the very prow, and drawn a knife from his bosom, cried out, "to the devil with the prince of the azymites."[ ] he leaped upon constantine's boat in order to reach that containing the emperor: but was caught in the strong arms of constantine who fell with him into the water. the monk gripped with his antagonist so that they sank together. in a few seconds, however, constantine emerged. a thin streamer of blood floated from him. he was drawn upon the barge. morsinia's hand tore off the loose gold-laced jacket, and found the wound to be a deep, but not dangerous flesh cut across the shoulder. it was several moments before the monk appeared. he gasped and sank again forever. constantine stated that the day before, while aiding in the erection of a platform for some small culverin that urban had cast, the latter spoke to him of the marvellous mosaic ornamentation in the vestibule of the little church just beyond the walls, and took him thither. the monk was there, and passed in and out, evidently demented, and muttering to himself curses upon the latinizers. constantine thought little of this at the time; for a mad monk was not an uncommon sight in the city. but observing the same man at the quay hiring a boat, he determined to watch him. hence the sequel. footnotes: [ ] a face of christ was wrought in mosaic in the wall above the chancel of st. sophia. the turks still have a traditional saying that the christian shall not again possess constantinople until the face of jesus appears visibly in st. sophia. at the time of its capture by the moslems this picture of christ was painted over. it is now again dimly discerned through the fading and scaling paint. [ ] the "azymites" were those who used unleavened bread in the sacrament, and at the time of which we are writing the word was used among the greeks as a term of reproach to the latinizers, that is, those who favored union with the latin church. chapter xxxii. the members of phranza's family were dining, as was their custom on pleasant days, under the great fig tree in the garden; a favorite spot with the chamberlain when allowed that privacy of life and domestic retirement which were seldom enjoyed by one whose duty it was to show the courtesies of the empire to ambassadors and distinguished visitors from the ends of the earth. "i would willingly exchange conditions with old guerko, the gate keeper, to-day," said phranza, pushing from him the untasted viands. "the gate-keeper of an empire has less liberty and rest." "what new burden has the council put upon you, my lord?" said his wife. "remember that your little prime minister will help you," interposed morsinia playfully. phranza glanced with a kindly but troubled look at her---- "the wheels of the public good grind up the hearts of individuals remorselessly," continued the good man. "here am i with a spouse as fair as juno; yet i must leave her for months, and maybe years, that i may seek a spouse for the emperor. i am to make a tour of all christian courts; sampling delicate bits of female loveliness, and weighing paternal purses. but sacred policy takes the place of holy matrimony among the great. an emperor and empress are not to be man and wife, but only the welding points of two kingdoms, though their hearts are burned and crushed in the nuptials. i had hoped that his majesty would assert his sovereignty sufficiently to declare that, in this matter, he would exercise the liberty which the commonest boor possesses, and choose who should share his couch, and be the mother of his children. but the very day after his escape from the mad monk, he put the keeping of his royal heart into the hands of his ministers. the shock of the attempt upon his life, or something else (glancing at morsinia), seems to have turned his head with fear for the succession. so, to-morrow i sail to the euxine to inspect the circassian beauties, who are said to bloom along its eastern shore. but my dear wife will be consoled for my absence by the return of our nephew alexis, who, i learn from my letters, is already at athens, having wearied of his sojourn among the italians, and will be with you before many days. heaven grant that he has not become tainted with the vices of the italians, which are even worse than those of the byzantines. i trust he will find his aunt's care, and the sisterly offices of our albanian daughter, more potently helpful than my counsel would have been." the magnificent retinue, the splendid galleys, the untold treasures scraped from the bottom of the imperial coffers, with which, on the following day, the chamberlain sailed away through the bosphorus to the euxine, were but poor compensation to his loving household for his prolonged absence. nor was his place adequately filled by alexis with his fine form and western elegance of manners. in one respect phranza's wish was met; for if the care of his aunt was not appreciated by the young man, the sisterly offices of the fair albanian were. morsinia's respect for the absent phranza led her to allow more attention from alexis than her heart, or even her judgment, would have suggested. the young nobleman soon entangled himself in the web of her unconscious fascination. it was not until with passionate ardor he told his love, that morsinia realized her fatal power over him. but with a true woman's frankness and firmness, she endeavored to dispel the illusion his ardent fancy had created. "if i have not yet won you," cried the impetuous youth, "do not tell me that my suit is hopeless. it was folly in me to dream that you would see in me anything worthy of your love, so soon as your transcendent beauty of face and soul made me feel that you were all worthy of mine. let me prove myself by months or years of devotion, if you will. if i do not now merit your esteem, surely the charm of daily looking upon you will make me better; the sweetness of your spirit will change mine; then as you see in me some impression of your own goodness, you will not scorn and repel me. i beg that you will make of me what you will, and love me as you can. i am not harder than the marble of which pygmalion made the statue he loved. mould me, morsinia!" "it is not that you are not worthy of me, alexis. the nephew of phranza need not humiliate himself at the feet of any king's daughter. but--but--it may not be! it cannot be!" and, gently releasing the hand she had allowed him to seize, she withdrew to her own chamber. alexis stood for a moment as if stupefied with his disappointment. this feeling was followed by a chagrin, which showed itself in the deep color mounting his haughty face. then rage ensued, and he stamped upon the ground as if crushing some helpless thing beneath his feet, and muttered to himself: "if not i, no man shall have her and live. can it be that albanian constantine? who is that vagrant? that menial? that hell-headed hireling who follows her? angels and toads do not brood together; and he is of no kin to her." chapter xxxiii. through a narrow street, lighted by the lanterns which hung before the doors of the few wine shops that were still open--for the hour was late--a man, wrapped in a hooded cloak, went stumbling over the dogs that were asleep in the middle of the way, and not unfrequently over the watchmen lying upon the mats before the closed entrances to the bazaars they were guarding. he entered one wine shop after another, muttering an oath of disappointment as he withdrew from each. at length he turned into an alley, which seemed like a mere crevice in the compact mass of houses, and threaded his way between windowless and doorless walls, until the passage widened into a small and filthy court. at the extreme rear of this a lamp was just flickering with its exhausted oil, and only sufficed to show him a doorway. rapping gently he called in italian: "pedro! giovan!" the door was opened by a short, stout man with bullet head, who spread himself across the entrance and peered into the face of the late comer. two villainous looking men stared through the lurid glare of a rush light on a low table, at which, squatted on the ground, they were playing dice. a purse or pouch of gold thread, decorated with some device wrought with pearls and various precious stones, lay beside them. "ah, the gentleman from genoa!" exclaimed one. "you are quite welcome to our castle. ricardo, where is the stool? well! if you can't find it, lie down, and let the gentleman sit on your head." "you appear to be in luck, pedro, if i am to judge from the purse yonder," said the visitor. "your lady has taken you back to her affection, and given you this as a love token, i suppose." "i'll tell you the secrets of my lady's chamber, signior, when you tell me those of yours," replied pedro. "perhaps," interposed giovan, "the gentleman would have us help him in to the secrets of his lady's chamber. how now, signior alexis, have you trapped a new beauty so soon in byzantium?" "let's throw for this before we talk," interposed ricardo, holding the purse in one hand and a dice cup in the other. "one business at a time." the three men threw. the stake fell to ricardo, who thrust the rich prize into his dirty pocket, where a third of the contents of the purse had previously been deposited. "may i see the little bag?" asked alexis. "no!" was the surly response. "you see, signior," interposed giovan, in an attempt to mitigate the rudeness of his comrade, "you see it was a trust from--from a dead man, who was afraid to take it with him to purgatory, lest the fire might tarnish it. so we keep it for him until he comes back. and we are still in the trust business, signior! our credit is without a stain. you know it was just a suspicion of our integrity--we would not have our honor even suspected by the police--that led us to leave genoa. will you trust us with any little business?" "do you know the albanian officer in the emperor's guards?" asked alexis. "no, and want to know nothing about officers of any sort," growled giovan. "ay!" interposed ricardo, "the red-topped fellow, with a body like giovan's, and the neck the right height to come under my sword arm?" making the gesture of cutting off one's head with a sabre. "does he disturb you?" "yes!" "it will be worth a hundred ducats," said giovan. "a hundred and fifty," said ricardo; and, lowering his voice to the others, added, "i need fifty, and i would take only my even share." "you shall have it," said alexis, counting out the gold. "if you deceive me, you know that one word from me here in byzantium will cost you your heads. good night!" when he had gone, giovan said in low voice: "i say, pedro, we will divide a thousand ducats out of this." "how?" exclaimed the two. "the young officer is brother to the lady at the grand chamberlain's. she will pay heavy ransom if we deliver him instead of--" drawing his finger across his throat. "of course we should have to leave byzantium. but ricardo and i have concluded that it were best to be gone anyhow; for the people here are so poor that our business does not thrive. this purse once held ducats, but when we took it, it had only silver bits. we pocket-bankers need better constituency." "yes, we had better get out of this," said pedro. "general giustiniani has come to live in galata.[ ] he got his weasel-eyes on me yesterday as i was doing a little business by the old wharf. that man knows too much, he does. but he'll never get me on the galley benches again. i'd crawl like a mud turtle on the bottom of marmora before i'd go under the hatches a second time. i like freedom and fresh air, i do--" blowing out of his face the thick smoke emitted by the wick floating on the surface of a saucer of oil. "right!" said giovan. "let's get out of this if we can do so with enough gold to pay our royal travelling expenses. but if we spare the neck of that fellow who is in signior alexis' way, where will we keep him that alexis will not know it?" "our mansion here is hardly commodious enough for so distinguished and lively a guest as the young officer will be likely to be," said ricardo, scraping the spiders' webs from the low ceiling of the room with his cap. "try the old water vault," suggested pedro. "good!" said ricardo, "when the albanian goes to the walls, as he does every day, he will pass near to the opening." footnote: [ ] a suburb of constantinople, occupied by the genoese. chapter xxxiv. the day following the three ruffians lingered about the site of the old hippodrome--through the open space of which the citizens passed in going from one part of the city to another. toward evening a stone was thrown against the bronze-sheathed column, or walled pyramid, which still held some of the great plates that in the palmy days of byzantium made it one of the wonders of the city. it was the signal for alertness. a short-bodied, long-armed, red-haired man, dressed in the white kilt and gold-embroidered jacket of a citizen, sauntered leisurely through the hippodrome. he measured with his eye the space which once blazed with the splendor of fashion, when, beneath the imperial eye of a justinian or theodosius, the horses of araby and thracia ran, and the factions of "the blues" and "the greens" shouted, and the whirling wheels of the golden chariots sprinkled the dust upon the multitudes. the man paused to gaze at the bronze column of three intertwined serpents, with silver-crested heads, which was believed to have been brought from the temple at delphi to his new city by the great constantine. he stood reverently before the tall egyptian obelisk of rose-granite, whose light red glowed with deeper hue in the eastern flush of the twilight sky; puzzled over its vertical lines of hieroglyphs which thirty centuries had not obliterated, and studied the figures on its marble base, representing the machines used by the engineers of theodosius in hoisting the great monolith to its place, a thousand years ago. broken statues--the spoil of conquered cities in generations of greek prowess which shamed the supineness of the present, stood or lay about the grand pillar of porphyry, which was once surmounted by the statue of apollo wrought by phidias. "shame for such neglect!" muttered the man. "a people that cannot keep its art from cracking to pieces with age, cannot long keep the old empire of the cæsars." the narrow street to the north of the hippodrome square shut out the remnant of daylight as the man turned into it. his attention was drawn by the groaning of some poor outcast crouching in the dark shadow of an angle in the wall. as he stooped to inspect this object a stunning blow fell upon his head. two stalwart men instantly pinioned his arms. they rolled his helpless body a few yards, and carried or slid it down a flight of steps into a dark cavern, whose sides echoed their footfalls and whispers, as if it were the place of the last judgment where the secrets of life are all to be proclaimed. reaching the bottom, one of the men produced a light. the glare seemed to excavate a hollow sphere out of the thick darkness, but revealed nothing, except the spectral flash of the bats flitting around the heads of the intruders, and the damp earthen floor upon which the men had thrown their victim. at length great forms rose through the gloom, like the trunks of a forest. the water of a subterranean lake gleamed from near their feet, but its smooth black sheen was soon lost in the darkness. a small boat, or raft, was near, into which the man was lifted; one of the ruffians sitting on his feet, the other by his head, while the third propelled the craft by pushing against great granite pillars between which they passed. after going some distance the boat ground its bottom against a mass of fallen masonry and dirt, which made a sort of island, perhaps twenty feet across. here they landed, and dragged their victim. "what would you have with me?" said the prostrate man. "it is enough that we have you," said pedro, in broken greek. "we want nothing more; not even to keep your miserable carcass, since we have already got our pay for burying it. i'll be your father-confessor and shrive you. if you like the latin--absolvo te! and away go your sins as easily as i can strip this gold-laced jacket off your back. or if you prefer the greek--by the horns of nebuchadnezzar, i've forgotten the priestly words! but i'll shrive you all the same without the holy mumble. and if you want to pray a bit yourself, why fold your feet in front of your nose and kneel on your back." "why do you kill me?" said the man. "i am nothing to you." "nothing to us, but something to him who has hired us. as honest men we must do what we were paid to do." "unless i can pay you more," said the man, instantly taking a hopeful hint. "do you wear the belt of phranza, that you think you can pay so much?" replied one of the ruffians, feeling about the person of the helpless man. "what i have i give--a hundred ducats." "a hundred! are you love-crossed that you value life so little? you'll skin well, my gentle lambkin; and as you are half tanned already, we will sell your hide to the buskin maker for almost that sum; and your fat (feeling his ribs) will grease a hundred galley masts. a thousand ducats is your value, you albanian imp!" "i do not possess so much," said the victim. "but your sister does," said the ruffian; and not noting the surprised look of the man, continued: "we have arranged for that. your life is worth to us just one thousand ducats of gold. sign this!" producing a bit of paper on which was something written. "i cannot read it in this light. you read it. i may trust such honest fellows as you are." the man read--"to my sister, the albanian, at the house of phranza. i am in danger from which i can escape only if you will give the bearer one thousand ducats. speak not to any one of it, or my life is forfeit. that you may know this is genuine the bearer will show you my ring and a clip of my hair." "give me your ring; and, comrade, warm the wax to seal the letter," said giovan. "but i am not the man you seek," said the victim. "and who in the devil's name are you then?" "a mere stranger." "prove it!" "take the ring, and the lady will not recognize it." "we shall see," said the ruffian, "but we will take the hundred ducats now to pay for any trouble you have put us to." his belt was stripped off, and its golden contents ripped out. the victim was untied, first having been completely disarmed. the three men entering the boat, pushed off in the direction from which they had entered. the island prisoner watched the receding light as it flashed its long rays on the water, illumined the arches of the roof, and lit the crouching figures in the boat. the multiplying pillars became like a solid wall as the light receded, until at length the darkness was complete. the sound of the boat as it scratched against the stone at the landing, gave place to the most oppressive silence. to attempt escape in the direction of the entrance would be folly. if he could find his way his captors would doubtless be on guard and easily overpower him, as he would have to wade or swim. but to remain where he was would be as hazardous, for the wretches would not risk exposure for the sake of the hundred ducats they had secured; but would probably return and put him out of the way of witnessing against them. as he meditated, a low rumble like distant thunder, ran along the arches. "some passing vehicle in the city above," he concluded. a light drip, as of a bat's wing touching the water! another! and another! "strange that they should be so regular!" thought the man. "there must be some inlet: i will explore." he walked cautiously into the water in the direction of the sound. soon he was beyond his depth; but, being an expert swimmer, kept on; his outstretched arms answering as antennæ of some huge water-spider, and guarding him from collision with the pillars. the dripping sound became louder. now it was just above his head. he felt his way with his hands until it became evident that he was at the end or side of the subterranean lake. but the shore was steep; indeed, a wall. fixing his fingers into the crevices between the stones, he was able to raise himself half out of the water. reaching up with one hand he felt the curved edge of a viaduct, by which the dark lake was evidently fed, or had been in earlier days. but, bah! the water now trickling through it was foul. the spring had been stopped, and the viaduct become a sewer; fed doubtless through its rents with the soakage of the city. but might there not be an opening into the upper air? if not, a great human mole--especially if, to blind scratching power, he adds the skill of one trained in the art of engineering--can possibly make an opening. the prisoner climbed into the viaduct. it was large enough to allow him to crawl a short distance. a faint glimmer of light proved the correctness of his surmise that it was connected with the surface. but fallen stones blocked his way. as he lay planning with fingers and brain for his further progress, voices sounded from the reservoir. they were those of two of the cut-throats returning. he pushed himself back to the opening. his captors had missed him at the island. if they knew of this sluice, or chanced to come upon it in their search, he was lost in his present position; for a pair of bare heels was the only weapon he could show against their sharp daggers. he let himself down into the water, and swam silently away. the light, however, from his captors' lamp came nearer. "hist!" said one. "he is yonder; perhaps by the devil's window." the boat pushed directly toward the viaduct he had left. while they explored the opening, which might well be called the window into the blackness of darkness of the nether world, their victim swam rapidly, keeping always in the shadow of the great pillars. but the boat was upon his track again. the fugitive now made a fortunate discovery. several feet below the surface of the water the base of each pillar projected far enough for standing room. this base had probably marked the height to which the water was originally allowed to rise. by standing upon one of these projections, he was able to move round the pillar, so as to keep its huge block between himself and his pursuers. thus they passed him. by the light in the boat he could discern the ground or shore near which was the entrance. returning to coast the other side of the cavern, they had passed close by him, when, his foot slipping, he was projected into the water. the wretches hailed with grim joy the splash, and turned the boat in the direction of the noise. but, dropping beneath the surface, the man swam to a pillar near by, from which he watched their baffled circuit of his former retreat. this chase could not be kept up endlessly. plunging again under the water, he swam directly to the boat. rising suddenly, he grasped its side with main weight and overturned it. the cries of the men and the splashing of the boat echoed a hundred times among the arches; while the hissing oil of the open lamp, which, poured on the surface of the water, blazed for a moment, made as near a representation of pandemonium as this world ever affords, except in the brain of the demented. though the captive had endeavored to keep his bearings, and had not lost for an instant his presence of mind, the swirling of the boat had destroyed all impression of the direction he should take. he remembered that on one of the pillars the projecting base was broken. it was that on which he had stood when he caught a glimpse of the ground near the entrance. if he could find that pillar again he could take his bearings as readily as if a star guided him. several pillars were tried before the talismanic one was discovered. feeling the broken place, and recalling the way in which he stood upon the narrow ledge when he saw the entrance, he took his course accordingly, and swam on. one of his pursuers had evidently found a lodgment somewhere, and was calling lustily to his comrade for help. but there came back no answer to his call. on went the swimmer until the light of the outer world gleamed through the crevice of the door, twenty or thirty feet above him, and he crawled upon the ground. squeezing the water from his garments, he climbed the stairway, and, opening the heavy and worm-eaten doors, peered out. the street was crowded with passers; for another day had come since his entrance to the old reservoir. in his half naked and bedrabbled condition he hesitated to make his exit, and returned to the bottom of the stairs. a hand on the door above made him leap to one side. giovan entered. peering intensely into the shadows, he descended the steps. pausing a moment he whistled through his teeth. there was no response. he whistled louder on his fingers. a shout came back. "help! giovan--help!" giovan's dagger protruded from his belt. another's hand suddenly drew it, and, before he had recovered from his surprise, it entered his neck to the haft. the italian's short breeches, velveteen jacket and skull cap were made to take the place of the remnant of the prisoner's once most reputable wardrobe, and he sallied forth. chapter xxxv. later in the day the gate keeper at phranza's mansion put into morsinia's hand a letter left with him by an italian laboring man. it was addressed--"to the albanian lady," and read thus: "your brother's life is threatened by some secret enemy. let him exercise an albanian's caution! this is the advice of a stranger." a little before this, as the "poor italian" was moving away from the gate of phranza, a gorgeous palanquin, with silken canopy and sides latticed with silver rods, was borne in by four stout and well-formed men, with bare legs and arms, purple short trousers, embroidered jackets, and jaunty red caps, whose long tassels hung far down their backs. the "italian" stepped into an angle that the palanquin might pass; and stood gazing a long time after it had disappeared. at length, turning away, he said to himself: "strange! it must be that my imagination has been disturbed by the scenes of last night. but the lady in yonder palanquin is my dream made real. the pretty face of the child with whom i once played on the mountains must have cut its outlines somewhere on my brain, for i seem to see it everywhere. my captive in the mountains of albania had the same features--though i saw them only under the flash of a torch. imagination that, surely! the girl at sfetigrade was similar. and now this one! the aga's advice to beware female illusions was good. but she may be the albanian lady after all. impossible! stupidity! perhaps my chosen houri in paradise is only flashing her beauty upon my soul from these fair earthly faces, and so training me first to love her as an ideal, that the joy of the realization may be perfect. but, tut! tut! silly boy that i am!" whistling monotonously he turned down a street. a short, crooked-necked officer passed along. his face at the moment was the picture of dissatisfaction. the "italian" stopped him, and, with a courtesy which belied his common apparel, addressed him:-- "captain urban of the engineers, is it not?" "and who are you?" was the surly, yet half respectful, reply, as the one addressed glanced into the other's face. "one who knows that the cannon you are casting are not heavy enough to lodge a ball against the old tower of galata yonder across the golden horn, much less breach a fortification; and further, that all you can cast at this rate from now until the turks take byzantium would not enable you to throw ten shot an hour." "by the brass toe of st. peter! man, i was just saying the same thing to myself," replied urban. "and the emperor's treasury, when he has bought himself a wife, will not have enough left to buy saltpetre with which to fire the guns, if he should allow you brass enough for the casting," added the stranger. "true again, my man; and the emperor's service in the meantime does not yield stipend enough for an officer to live upon decently. if you were better dressed, my prince of lazaroni, i couldn't afford to ask you to drink with me; but this cheap shop will shame neither your looks nor my purse. come in." "who are you, my good fellow?" asked urban, as he drained a cup of mastic-flavored wine. "were not your voice different, and your pronunciation of greek rather provincial, with a slight servian brogue, i would take you for one of our young engineers. you are not an italian, spite of your garb." "no," was the reply, "i was once in the employ of the despot of servia, engineer and artillery-man; but i think of entering the service of the sultan. he pays finely, and gives one who loves the science of war a chance to use his genius." "for such a chance and good pay i would serve the devil," said urban. "the greek emperor here is no saint, and yet i have served him for a crust. i am not bound to him by any tie. if you find good quarters with the turks, give me a hint, and i will join you." the stranger eyed him closely as he said this, and replied in low tones--"captain urban, i am a moslem; captain ballaban of the janizary corps. and i bear you a commission from the padishah. to seek you is a part of my business in constantinople. i do not ask you to take my word for this, but if you will accompany me, i will give you proof of my authority. a thousand ducats i will put into your hand within an hour, with which you may taste the padishah's liberality and imagine what it shall be when you accompany me to adrianople." the two men left the wine shop together and entered a bazaar. the stranger whispered to the merchant who was nearly buried amid huge piles of goods of every antique description; strange patterned tapestries, rugs of all hues and sizes, ebony boxes inlaid with silver and ivory, shields bossed and graven, spear-heads, cimeters and daggers. the salesman made as low a salâm as his crowding wares would permit, and, opening a way through the heaps of merchandise, conducted the visitors into an inner room. chapter xxxvi. to better understand the events just recited, we must trace some scenes which had been enacted elsewhere. during the sojourn of constantine and morsinia in constantinople, the turks had made no progress toward the conquest of albania. the walls of croia, upon which they turned their thousands of men, and exhaustless resources of siege apparatus, served only to display the valor and skill of the assailants, the superior genius of castriot, and the endurance of his bands of patriots. the haughty sultan amurath, broken in health, more by the chagrin of his ill success than by exposures or casual disease, retired to adrianople, in company with his son, prince mahomet, who was satisfied with a few lessons in the science of military manoeuvering as taught by the dripping sword of castriot; and preferred to practice his acquirements upon other and less dangerous antagonists. prince mahomet had scarcely withdrawn to magnesia in asia minor, and celebrated his nuptials with the daughter of the turkoman emir, when news was brought of the death of his father. the prince was hardly twenty-one years of age; but his first act was ominous of the promptitude, self-assertion and diligence of the whole subsequent career of this man, whose success on the field and in the divan made him the foremost monarch of his age. on hearing the news he turned to captain ballaban, for whom the young padishah entertained the fondest affection, and who had accompanied him to magnesia in the capacity of kavass.-- "i shall leave to you, captain, the duty of representing me at the burial of my royal father at brusa, after which meet me at adrianople." leaping into the saddle, he cried to the company about him, "let those who love me, follow me!" and spurred his arab steed to the hellespont. the magnificent cortege of the dead sultan moved rapidly from the european capital of the turks to their ancient one in asia minor. the thoughts of the attendants were more toward the new hand which would distribute the favors or terrors of empire, than toward the hand which was now cold. captain ballaban was in time to join the reverent circle which committed the royal body to its ancestral resting place. they buried it with simple sepulchral rites, in the open field, unshadowed by minaret or costly mosque or memorial column; that, as the dying padishah had said, "the mercy and blessing of god might come unto him by the shining of the sun and moon, and the falling of the rain and dew of heaven upon his grave." sultan mahomet ii. was scarcely within the seraglio at adrianople when captain ballaban reported for duty. passing through the outer or common court, he entered by the second gate into the square surrounded by the barracks of the janizaries, who, as the body guard of the monarch, occupied quarters abutting on those of the sultan. near the third gate was gathered a crowd of janizaries, in angry debate; for as soon as they realized that the firm and experienced hand of amurath was no longer on the helm, the pride and audacity of this corps inaugurated rebellion. "the janizaries have saved the empire, let them enjoy it," cried one. "our swords extended the moslem power, so will we have extension of privilege," cried another. "why should kalil pasha be grand vizier instead of our chief aga? kalil is one of the giaour ortachi.[ ] "down with the vizier!" rang among the barracks. "a mere child is padishah! one of no judgment the hunkiar!" "my brothers," said captain ballaban. "you know not the new padishah. well might amurath have said to him what othman said to orchan: 'my son, i am dying: and i die without regret, because i leave such a successor as thou art.' believe me, my brothers, if mahomet is young, he is strong. if he is inexperienced in the methods of government, it is because heaven wills that he shall invent better ones." "your head is turned by the padishah's favors," muttered an old guardsman. "but am i not a janizary?" cried the captain, "and it is as a janizary that the padishah loves me, as he loves us all. i once heard him say that the white wool on a janizary's cap was more honorable than the horse tail on the tent spear of another. old selim here can tell you that, as a child, mahomet was fonder of the janizary's mess than of the feast in the harem." "yes," said old selim, with voice trembling through age, but loud with the enthusiasm excited by the captain's appeal. "my hands taught mahomet his first parries and thrusts; and he would sit by our fire to listen to the stories of the valor of our corps, and clap his hands, and cry 'good selim, i would rather be a janizary than be a prince.'" the old man's eyes filled with tears as he added, "and all the four thousand prophets bless the padishah!" while this scene was being enacted without, the young sultan was reclining, with the full sense of his new dignity, upon the sofa which had never been pressed except by the person of royalty. it was covered with a cloth of gold and crimson velvet, relieved by fringes of pearls. before it was spread a carpet of silk, an inch thick, whose softness, both of texture and tints, made a luxuriant contrast with its border, which was crocheted with cords of silver and gold. the walls of his chamber were enriched with tiles of alabaster, agate, and turquoise. the ceiling was plated with beaten silver, hatched at intervals with mouldings of gold; near to which were windows of stained glass made of hundreds of pieces closely joined to form transparent mosaic pictures, through which the variegated light flooded the apartment. mahomet was himself in striking contrast with his surroundings. he was dressed in négligé, with loose gown, large slippers, and white skull cap. before the sultan stood the grand vizier, kalil, bedizened in the costume of his office:--an enormous turban in whose twisted folds was a band of gold; a bournous of brocade, enlivened by flowers wrought upon it in green and red; and a cashmere sash gleaming with the jewelled handle of his yataghan. "they are even now in revolt, your majesty," said the vizier. "your safety will be best served by severe measures. they say the iron has not grown into your nerves yet." the sultan colored. after a moment's pause he replied. "when captain ballaban comes we will think of that matter." "the captain had just arrived as i entered, sire." "then announce to the janizaries that the seven thousand falconers and game keepers which my father allowed to eat up our revenue, as the bugs infest the trees, are abolished; and their income appropriated to the better equipment of the janizaries." "but, sire, would you sharpen the fangs of----" "silence! i have said it," said mahomet, striking his hand on his knee. "but what is this demand from constantinople?" "that the pay for the detention of your cousin orkran at constantinople shall be doubled, or the greeks will let him loose to contest the throne with your majesty." "assent to the demand," said the sultan. "the time will the sooner come to avenge the insult, if we seem not to see it." the vizier continued looking at his tablets. "maria sultana[ ] asks, through the kislar aga, that she may be allowed, since the death of her lord, to return to her kindred." "let her go! she is a giaour whose cursed blood was not bettered by six and twenty years' habitation with my father. she is fair enough in her wrinkles for some christian prince, and george brankovitch needs to make new alliances." "hunyades"--said the vizier. "ay, make peace with him, and with scanderbeg, too, if that wild beast can be tamed, which i much doubt." the sultan rose from his cushion, his form animated with strong excitement, and, putting his hand upon the shoulders of the vizier--who drew back at the strange familiarity--and looking him fixedly in the face, he whispered: "everything must wait,"--and the words hissed in the hot eagerness with which he said them--"until--i have constantinople." turning upon his heel, he withdrew toward his private chamber. the sultan threw himself upon his bed. the capee aga, or chief of the white eunuchs, whose duty it was to act as valet-de-chambre, as well as to stand at the right hand of the sultan on state occasions, began to draw the curtains around the silver posts upon which the bed rested. "you may leave me," said his majesty. "nay, hold! send captain ballaban of the janizaries." as the young officer entered, the face of the sultan relaxed. "you make me a man again, comrade," said he, grasping his hand. "these few days playing sultan make me feel as old as the empire. i hate this parade of boring viziers and mincing eunuchs; and to be shut up here with these palace proprieties is as irksome to me as timour's iron cage was to my grandfather bajazet. i think i shall put my harem on horse-back, and take to the fields. scudding out of albania with scanderbeg at one's heels were preferable to this busy idleness. you have had a rapid ride to get from brusa so soon, and look winded. roll yourself on that wolf's skin. i killed that fellow in caramania. by the turban of abraham! your red head looks well against the black hide. but why don't you laugh? have they made a padishah of you, too, that you must mask your face with care?" "i have a care, sire," said the soldier. "tell me it," said the sultan, "and i'll make it fly away as fast as the prophet's horse took him to the seventh heaven." "the janizaries are restless, sire." "does not the donative i have announced pacify them?" "i have not heard of it," said the officer. "listen! is not that their shout?" shout after shout rent the air from the court without. the janizary turned pale; but in a moment said, "your donative has been announced. they are cheering your majesty." "long live the padishah!" "long life to mahomet!" rang again and again. "i thank you, sire," eagerly cried the young man, kissing the hand of the sultan. "what else would they have?" asked he. "nothing but chance to show their gratitude by valiant service," was the reply. "this they shall have, with you to lead them," putting his hand on the young officer's shoulder. "nay, sire, i may not supplant those who are my superiors by virtue of service already rendered." "but i command it. the corps shall to-morrow be put under your orders as their chief aga." "i beg your majesty to desist from this purpose," said ballaban. "the spirit of the corps, its efficiency, depends upon the strictest observance of the ancient rules of orchan and aladdin. by them we have been made what we are." "but," cried mahomet angrily, "there shall be no other will than mine throughout the army." "i would have no other will than thine, sire," was the response; "but it were well if your will should be to leave the janizaries' rule untouched." "you young rebel!" cried mahomet, half vexed yet half pleased as, bursting into a laugh, he dashed over the face of his friend a jar of iced sherbet which was upon a lacquered stand at his side. "you may thank the devil that it wasn't the arrow i once shot you with," said the playful tyrant, as ballaban jumped to his feet. "if you were not the sultan now, i would pull you from the bed, as i pulled you from your horse that day," replied the good-natured favorite, making a motion as if to execute the threat. "you are right," said mahomet rising. "i am sultan! sultan? pshaw! yet sultan, surely." he paced the floor in deep agitation, and at length said, "i have a duty to perform, than which i would rather cut off my arms." "let me do the deed, though it takes my arm and my life," said ballaban eagerly. "you know not what it is, my old comrade." "but i pledge before i know," was the response which came from stiffened lips and bowed head, as the captain made his obeisance. the sultan looked him in the face long and earnestly, and then, turning away, said: "no! no! there are hands less noble than yours." "but try me, sire." "you know the custom of our ancestors, approved by the wisdom of divans, as an expedient essential to the peace and safety of the empire, that--but i can not speak it: nor will i ask it of you. leave me, captain. come to-morrow at this hour. i shall need the relief of your company then, even more than to-day." footnotes: [ ] brothers of the infidels. [ ] one of the sultanas of amurath ii. and daughter of george brankovitch, despot of servia. chapter xxxvii. an hour later the kislar aga, chief of the black eunuchs in charge of the royal harem, was announced. "well, sinam, have any of your herd of gazelles escaped?" asked the sultan. "none. but mira sultana would pay her homage at your majesty's feet." "mira, the greek?" said mahomet, the deep color rising to his temples. lowering his tone to a whisper, he conversed for a few moments with the eunuch, who prostrated himself upon the ground, and with harsh, yet thin voice, said: "your majesty is wise, very wise. your will is that of allah, the great hunkiar. it shall be done." mira was a beautiful woman. the light texture of her robe revealed a perfect form; and the thin veil lent a charm to her face, such as shadows send across the landscape. mahomet shuddered, as the kneeling woman embraced his feet. the words of her congratulation to the young monarch, her protestation of devotion to him as to his father, though uttered with the sweetest voice he had ever heard, and with evident honesty, sent a visible tremor through the frame of her listener. and when she added, "my child, ahmed, the image of his noble father and thine, will serve thee with his life, and"-- "it is well! it is well," interrupted the sultan. "be gone now!" the morning following was one in which the hearts of the citizens of adrianople stood almost throbless with horror. mothers clasped their babes with a shudder to their breasts; and fathers stroked the fair hair of their boys, and thanked allah that no tide of royal blood ran in their veins. a story afterward floated over the lands of moslem and christian, as terrible as a cloud of blood, dropping its shadow into palace and cottage, and dyeing that page of history on which mahomet's name is written with a damning blot. while mira sultana was bowing at the feet of the new monarch, congratulating him upon his accession to the throne, her infant son, ahmed, half brother to mahomet, was being strangled in the bath by his orders. another son of amurath, calapin, had, through his mother's timely suspicion, escaped to the land of the christians. it was late in the day when captain ballaban appeared for audience with the sultan. his majesty was apparently in the gayest of moods. "come, toss me the dice! we have not played since i laid aside my manhood and put on the padishah's cloak. come! what? have you no stake to put up? then i will stake for both. a turkoman, the father of my own bride, has sent me a bevy of women, georgians, with faces as fair as the shell of an ostrich's egg,[ ] and voices as sweet as of the birds which sang to the harp of david.[ ] the choice to him who wins! what! does not that tempt the cloud to drift off your face? then have your choice without the toss. what! still brooding?" added he, growing angry. "by the holy house at mecca! i'll make you laugh if i tickle your ribs with my dagger's point." "you made me promise that i would be true to you, my padishah, and if i should laugh to-day i would not be true," replied ballaban quietly. "my face wears the shadows which the people have thrown into it." "the people?" said mahomet growing pale. "ay, the people have heard the wailing of the sultana." "for what? tell me for what?" asked the sultan with feigned surprise. ballaban narrated the story which was on every one's lips. "it is treason against me," cried the monarch. summoning the capee aga he bade him call the divan. the great personages of the empire were speedily gathered in the audience room. at the right of the sultan stood the grand vizier and three subordinate viziers. on his left was the kadiasker, the chief of the judges, with other members of the ulema or guild of lawyers, constituting the high court. the reis-effendi, or clerk, stood with his tablets before the seat of the sultan. the rear of the room was filled with various princes and high officials. turning to the kadiasker, the sultan asked: "what is the denomination of the crime, and the penalty of him who, unbidden by the padishah, shall put to death a child of royal blood?" the kadiasker, after a moment's evident surprise at the question, pronounced slowly the following decision: "it were a double crime, sire, being both murder and treason. and if perchance the child were fatherless, let a triple curse come upon the slayer. for what saith the book of the prophet?[ ] 'they who devour the possessions of orphans unjustly, shall swallow down nothing but fire into their bellies, and shall broil in raging flames.' if such be the curse of allah upon him who shall despoil the child of his rightful goods, much more does allah bid us visit with vengeance one who despoils the child of that chiefest possession--his life. such is the law, o zil ullah."[ ] turning to the kislar aga, mahomet commanded him to give testimony. the nubian trembled as he looked into the blanched face of the sultan; but soon recovered his self possession sufficiently to read his master's thoughts, and said, "the child of mira sultana was found dead at the bath while in the hands of sayid." "was sayid the child's appointed attendant?" asked the kadiasker. "he was not," was the response. "let him die!" said the judge slowly. "let him die!" repeated the grand vizier. the sultan bowed in assent and withdrew. the swift vengeance of the padishah was hailed with applause by the officials, as if it had erased the blood guilt from the robe of royal honor; but the people shook their heads, and kept shadows on their faces for many days. "i tire of this life in the barracks," said captain ballaban to the sultan, shortly after this event. "speak honestly, man," was the reply. "you tire of me; my heart is not large enough to entertain one of such ambition." "nay, sire, but i would get nearer to the innermost core of your heart, into that which is your deepest desire." "and where, think you, is that spot?" said the sultan smiling. "constantinople," was the laconic response. "ah! true lover of mine art thou, if you would be there. until i put the mihrab[ ] in the walls of st. sophia, i shall not sleep without the dream that i have done it. know you not the dream of othman? how the leaves of the tree which sprang from his bosom when the fair malkhatoon, the mother of all the padishahs, sank upon it, were shaped like cimeters, and every wind turned their points toward constantinople? my waking and sleeping thoughts are the leaves. the spirit of othman breathes through my soul and turns them thither. go! and prepare my coming. the walls withstood my father amurath. discover why? i hear that urban, the cannon founder, is in the pay of the greeks. he who discovered a way to turn the dibrians against sfetigrade can find a way to turn a foreigner's eyes from the battered crown of the cæsars to something brighter--go, and allah give you wisdom!" the reader is acquainted with the immediate sequel of captain ballaban's departure, his adventure with the italian desperadoes at the old reservoir, and his success with urban. footnotes: [ ] the type of a beautiful complexion according to the koran, chap. xxxvii. [ ] koran, chap. xxxiv. [ ] koran, chap. iv. [ ] shadow of god, one of the titles of the sultan. [ ] the niche in mosques, on the side toward mecca, in the direction of which the moslems turn their faces to pray. chapter xxxviii. the siege and capture of constantinople by the turks in , was, with the exception of the discovery of america, the most significant event of the fifteenth century. the eastern roman empire then perished, after eleven centuries of glory and shame; of heroic conquests, and pusillanimous compromises with other powers for the privilege of existence; exhibiting on its throne the virtues and wisdom of theodosius and justinian, and the vices and follies of emperors and empresses whose names it were well that the world should forget. but the historic importance of the siege was matched by the thrilling interest which attaches to its scenes. the last of the constantines, from whose hands the queenly city was wrested, was worthy the name borne by its great founder, not, perhaps, for his display of genius in government and command, but for the pious devotion and sacrificial courage with which he defended his trust. a band of less than ten thousand christians, mostly greeks, and a few latins whose love for the essential truth of their religion was stronger than their bigotry for sect, withstood for many weeks the horrors which were poured upon them by a quarter of a million moslems. these foes were made presumptuous by nearly a century of unchecked conquest; their hot blood boiled with fury and daring excited by the promises of their religion, which opened paradise to those that perished with the sword; and they were led by the first flashings of the startling genius and audacity of mahomet ii. the bosphorus was blockaded six miles above the city by the new fortress, rumili-hissar, the castle of europe; answering across the narrow strait to anadolu-hissari--the castles of asia. a fleet of three hundred moslem vessels crowded the entrance to the bosphorus, to resist any western ally of the christians that might have run the gauntlet of forts which guarded the lower entrance to marmora. at the same time this naval force threatened the long water front of the city with overwhelming assault. the wall which lay between the sea of marmora and the golden horn, and made the city a triangle, looked down upon armies gathered from the many lands between the euphrates and danube;--the feudal chivalry from their ziamets under magnificently accoutred beys; the terrible akindji, the mounted scourge of the borders of christendom; the motley hordes of azabs, light irregular foot-soldiers,--these filling the plains for miles away:--while about the tents of the sultan were the royal horse guards, the spahis, salihdars, ouloufedji and ghoureba, rivals for the applause of the nations, as the most daring of riders and most skilful of swordsmen: and the janizaries, who boasted that their tread was as resistless as the waves of an earthquake. miners from servia were ready to burrow beneath the walls. a great cannon cast by urban, the dacian, who had deserted from the christian to the moslem camp, gaped ready to hurl its stone balls of six hundred pounds weight. it was flanked by two almost equally enormous fire-vomiting dragons, as the new artillery was called: while fourteen other batteries of lesser ordnance were waiting to pour their still novel destruction upon the works. ancient art blended with modern science in the attack; for battering rams supplemented cannon, and trenches breast-deep completed the lines of shields. moving forts of wood antagonized, across the deep moat, the old stone towers, which during the centuries had hurled back their assailants in more than twenty sieges. the various hosts of besiegers in their daily movements were like the folds of an enormous serpent, writhing in ever contracting circles about the body of some helpless prey. from dawn to dark the walls crumbled beneath the pounding of the artillery; but from dark to dawn they rose again under the toil of the sleepless defenders. thousands, impelled by the commands of the sultan, and more, perhaps, by the prospect of reward in this world, and in another, out of which bright-eyed houris were watching their prospective lords, mounted the scaling ladders only to fill with their bodies the moat beneath. at the point of greatest danger the besieged were inspired with the courage of their emperor, and by the aid of the bands of italians whom the purse and the appeals of john giustiniani had brought as the last offering of the common faith of christendom upon the great altar already dripping with a nation's blood. sometimes when the christians, whose fewness compared with the assailants compelled them to serve both day and night, were discouraged by incessant danger and fatigue, a light form in helmet and breastplate moved among them, regardless of arrows and bullets of lead: now stooping to staunch the wounds of the fallen; now mounting the parapet, where scores of stout soldiers shielded her with their bodies, and hailed her presence with the shout of "the albanian! the albanian!" the reverence which the soldiers gave to the devoted nuns, who were incessant in their ministry of mercy, was surpassed by that with which they regarded morsinia. she had become in their eyes the impersonation of the cause for which they were struggling. the interruption by the war of the negotiations with the emir of trebizond, whose daughter had been selected as the imperial spouse, revived the rumors which had once associated the fair albanian's name with that of his majesty; and gave rise to a nick-name, "the little empress," which, among the soldiers, came to be spoken with almost as much loyalty of personal devotion, as if it had received the imperial sanction. constantine's solicitude led him to remonstrate with morsinia for the exposure of her person to the dangers of the wall: but she replied-- "have you not said, my dear brother, that the defence is hopeless? that the city must fall? what fate then awaits me? the turks have service for men whom they capture, which, though hard, is not damning to body and soul. what if they send you to the mines, to the galleys? what if they slay you? you can endure that. yet i know that you yourself would perish in the fight before you would submit to even such a fate. but what is the destiny of a woman who shall fall into their hands? it is better to die than to be taken captive. and is not yonder breach where the men of the true god are giving their lives for their faith, as sacred as was ever an altar on earth? is not the crown of martyrdom better than a living death in the harem of the infidel? the arrow that finds me there on the wall shall be to me as an angel from heaven; and a death-wound received there will be as painless to my soul as the kiss of god." "but this must not be!" cried constantine. "our valor, if it does not save the city, may lead to surrender upon terms which shall save all the lives of the people." "it is impossible," replied she. "his majesty informed me yesterday that mahomet had pledged to his soldiers the spoil of the city, with unlimited license to pillage." constantine was silent, but at length added. "if worst comes, it will then be time enough to expose your life." "but the end is near, dear constantine. the city is badly provisioned. the poor are already starving. the garrison is on allowance which can sustain it but a few days. besides, as you have told me, the italians are at feud with the greeks, and ready to open the gates if famine presses upon them." "yes, curses on the head of that monk gennadius, who sends insult to our allies every day from his cell!" muttered constantine. "but i cannot see you in danger, morsinia. promise me--for your life is dearer to me than my own--that you will not go upon the walls. i need not the solemn oath to our brave castriot, and that to our father kabilovitsch, that i will guard you. but, if not for my sake, then for their sake, take my counsel. i know that you are under the special care of the blessed jesu. has he not shielded us both--me for your sake--many times before?" "your words are wise, my brother. you need not urge the will of castriot and father kabilovitsch, for your own wish is to me as sacred as that of any one on earth," said she, looking him in the eyes with the reverence of affection, and yielding to his embrace as he kissed her forehead. "but," added she, "i must exact of you one promise." "any thing, my darling, that is consistent with your safety," was the quick reply. "it is this. promise me, by the virgin mother of god, that you will not allow me to become a living captive to the turk." "not if my life can shield you. this you know!" "yes, i would not ask that, but something harder than that you should die for me." a pallor spread over the face of constantine, for he suspected her meaning, yet asked, "and what--what may that be?" "take my life with your own hand, rather than that a turk should touch me," said morsinia, without the slightest tremor in her voice. constantine stood aghast. morsinia continued, taking his strong right hand in hers, and raising it to her lips-- "that were joy, indeed, if the hand of him who loves me, the hand which has saved me from danger so often--could redeem me from this which i fear more than a thousand deaths! promise me for love's sake!" "i may not promise such a thing," said the young lover, with a voice which showed that her request had cut him to the heart. "then you love me not," said the girl, turning away. but the look upon constantine's face showed the terrible tragedy which was in his soul, and that such an accusation brought it too near its culmination. instantly she threw herself into his arms. "forgive me! forgive me!" cried she. "i will not impugn that love which has proved itself too often. but let us speak calmly of it. why should you shrink from this?" she asked, leading him to a seat beside her. "because i love you. my hand would become paralyzed sooner than touch rudely a hair of your head." "nay, in that you do not know yourself," said morsinia. "would you not pluck a mole from my face if i was marred by it in your eyes!" "but that would be to perfect, not to harm you," said constantine. "and did you not hold the hand of the poor soldier to-day, while the leech was cutting him, lest the gangrene should infect his whole body with poison? and would you not have done so had he been your long lost brother, michael, whom you loved? and would you not have done it more willingly because you loved him?" "yes," said constantine, "but that would be to save life, not to destroy it." "but what, my brother dear, is the fairness of a face compared with the fairness of honor? what the breath of the body, when both the body and the soul in it are threatened with contamination of such an existence as every woman receives from the turk?" "i cannot argue with you, morsinia. my nature rebels against the deed you propose." "but," replied she, "is not love nobler, and should it not be stronger, than nature? if nature should rebel against love, let love crush the rebellion, and show its sovereignty. if my hand should tremble to do aught that your true service required, i would accuse my hand of lack of devotion. but i think that men do not know the fulness of love as women do." "let me ask the question of you, morsinia," replied the young lover after a pause. "could you take my life as i lie here? will your hand mix the poison to put to my lips in the event of the turk entering the city? my life will be worse than death in its bitterness if you are lost to me." morsinia pondered the question, growing pale with the fearfulness of the thought. for a while she was speechless. the imagination started by constantine's question seemed to stun her. she stared at the vague distance. at length she burst into tears, and laying her head upon her companion's shoulder, said: "i love you too dearly, constantine, to ask that of you which you shrink from doing. there is another who can render me the service." "who would dare?" said constantine, rising and gazing wildly at her. "who would dare to touch you, even at your own bidding?" "i would," said morsinia quietly. "and this i shall save for the moment when i need the last friend on earth," she added, drawing from her dress the bright blade of an italian stiletto. "perhaps, my heart would tremble, and my flesh shrink from the sharp point, though i love not myself as i love you." "let us talk no more of this," said constantine, "but leave it for the hour of necessity, which happily i think will not soon come. i must tell you now for what i sought you. i have been ordered this very night to aid in a venture which, heaven grant! shall re-provision the city. several large galleys, laden with corn and oil, are now coming up the sea from genoa. if they see the cordon of the enemy's ships drawn across the harbor, not knowing the extremity to which the city is reduced, they may return without venturing an encounter. i am to reach them, and, if possible, induce them to cut their way through. the great chain at the entrance to the golden horn will be lowered at the opportune moment, and all the shipping in the harbor will make an attack upon the enemy's fleet. of this our allies must be informed. as soon as it is dark i shall drift in a swift little skiff between these turkish boats; and before the dawn i shall be far down on marmora. to-morrow night, if your prayers are offered, jesu will grant us success." with a kiss he released himself from her embrace and was gone. chapter xxxix. constantine eluded the heavy boats of the turks, which were anchored to prevent their drifting away upon the swift current with which the black sea discharges itself through the bosphorus into marmora. upon meeting the befriending galleys, it was with little difficulty that he persuaded the genoese captains to risk the encounter with the turkish fleet. as constantine pointed out to the italian captains, the enormous navy of the blockaders, formed in the shape of a crescent, and stretched from the wall of the city across to the asiatic shore, presented a more formidable obstacle to the eye than to the swift and skilfully manned genoese galleys. the turkish boats were generally but small craft, and laden down to the water's edge with men. the genoese had four galleys, together with one which belonged to byzantium. these were vessels of the largest size, constructed by men who had learned to assert their prowess as lords of the sea. they were armed with cannon adapted to sweep the deck of an adversary at short range:--a weapon which the turks had not yet floated, though they were in advance of the christians in using such artillery on land. the high sides of the christian galleys, moreover, prevented their being boarded except with dangerous climbing, while the defenders stood ready to pour the famous liquid called "greek fire" upon the heads of those who should attempt it. besides, heaven favored the christians; for a strong gale was blowing, which, while it tossed the boats of their adversaries beyond their easy control, filled the sails of the genoese, and sent them bounding over the waves: the oarsmen sitting ready to catch deftly into the bending billows with their blades. each of the five vessels chose for a target a large one of the turks, and clove it with its iron prow: while the cannon swept the turkish soldiers by hundreds from other boats near to them. passing through the thin crescent, the christian galleys skilfully tacked, and, careening upon their sides, again assailed the turks before they could evade their swift and resistless momentum. again and again the galleys passed, like shuttles on a loom, through the line of the enemy, sinking the unwieldy hulks and drowning the crowded crews. from the walls and house tops of the city went up huzzas for the victors and praises to heaven. from the shores of asia, and from below the city wall, thousands of moslems groaned their imprecations. the sultan raged upon the beach, as he saw one after another of his pennants sink beneath the waves. dashing far into the sea upon his horse, he vented his impotent fury in beating the water with his mace, shrieking maledictions into the laughing winds, and invoking upon the christians curses from all the pagan gods and moslem saints. at one moment the byzantine galley was nearly overcome, having been caught in a group of turkish boats, whose occupants climbed her sides, and did murderous work among the crew. though ultimately rescued by the genoese, it was only after severe loss. but above all other casualties the christians mourned the fate of young constantine. with almost superhuman strength he had cut down several assailants; but was finally set upon by such odds that he was pressed over the low bulwarks, and fell into the sea. the galley with its consorts made way to the chain at the entrance to the golden horn, where the rich stores, a thousand times richer now in the necessity which they relieved, were received amid the acclamations of the grateful greeks. but woe,--oh, so heavy! crushed one solitary heart. her eyes stared wildly at the messenger who brought the fatal tidings; and stared, hour by hour, in their stony grief, upon the wall of her apartment. kind attendants spoke to her, but she heard them not. her soul seemed to have gone seeking in other worlds the soul of her lover. the servants, awed by the majesty of her sorrow, sat down in the court without, and waited: but she called them not. daylight faded into darkness. the lamp which was brought she waved with her hand to have taken away. the maidens who came to disrobe her for the night found her bowed with her face upon the couch; and, receiving no response to their proffered offices, retired again to wait. the morning came; and the cheer of the sunlight which, quickening the outer world, poured through the windows high in the walls of her apartment, seemed to awaken her from her trance. but how changed in appearance! the ruddy hue of health, and the bronzing of daily exposure to the open air, seemed alike to have been blanched by that which had taken hope from her soul. her eyes were sunken, and the lustre in them, though not lessened, now seemed to come from an infinite depth--from some distant, inner world which had lost all relation to this, as a passing star. morsinia rose, weak at first; but her limbs grew strong with the imparted strength of her will. she ate; and speaking aloud--but more in addressing herself than her attendants--said: "i will away to the walls!" through the masses of debris, and among the groups of men who were resting and waiting to take the places of their wearied comrades on the ramparts, she went straight to the gate of st. romanus, where the assaults were most incessant. the cry of "the little empress!" gave way to that of "the panurgia! the panurgia!"[ ] as some, though familiar with her form, were startled by the almost unearthly change of her countenance. she returned no salutation as was usual with her, but, as if impelled by some superhuman purpose, her beauty lit as with a halo by the majesty of a celestial passion, she climbed the steps into the tottering tower above the gate. a strong, but gentle hand was put upon her arm. it was that of the emperor. "my daughter, you must not be here. come away!" she looked at him for an instant in hesitation; and then, bowing her head, responded in scarcely audible voice: "i will obey you, sire," and added, speaking to herself-- "it is _his_ will too." "i know your grief," said his majesty kindly, "and now, as your emperor, i must protect you against yourself." "i want no protection," cried the broken-hearted girl. "oh, let me die! for what should i live?" "my dear child," said the emperor with trembling voice, while the tears filled his eyes. "in other days your holy faith taught me how to be strong. now, in your necessity, let me repeat to you the lesson. for what shall _you_ live? for what should _i_ live? i am emperor, but my empire is doomed. i live no longer for earthly hope, but solely to do duty; nothing but duty, stern duty, painful every instant, crushing always, but a burden heaven imposed on a breaking heart. that heaven appoints it--that, and that alone--makes me willing to live and do it. when the time comes i shall seek death where the slain lie the thickest. but not to-day; for to-day i can serve. live for duty! live for god! the days may not be many before we shall clasp hands with those who, now invisible, are looking upon us. let us go and cheer the living before we seek the companionship of the dead." as the emperor spoke, his face glowed with a majesty of soul which made the symbol of earthly majesty that adorned his brow seem poor indeed. gazing a moment with reverent amazement at the man who had already received the divine anointing for the sacrifice of martyrdom he was so soon to offer, morsinia responded: "your words, sire, come to me as from the lips of god. i will go and pray, and then--then i shall live for duty." footnotes: [ ] the panurgia, a name given to the holy virgin, who at a former siege of constantinople, in , was imagined to have appeared upon the wall for its defense. chapter xl. mahomet had not expended all his petulant rage upon feelingless waves and distant christians. he summoned to his presence the admiral of his defeated fleet, baltaoghli, and ordered that he should be impaled. the admiral had shown as much naval skill as could, perhaps, have been exhibited with the unwieldy boats at his command; and, moreover, had brought from the fight an eyeless socket to attest his bravery and devotion. the penalty, therefore, which mahomet attached to his misfortune, brought cries of entreaty in his behalf from other brave officers, especially from the leading janizaries. this opposition at first confirmed the determination of the irate despot. but soon the petition of the honored corps swelled into a murmur, which the more experienced of his advisers persuaded mahomet to heed. the sultan had schooled himself to obey the precept which yusef, the eunuch, who instructed his childhood, had imparted, viz, "make passion bend to policy." he therefore apparently yielded, so far at least as to compromise with those whom he feared to offend, and commuted the admiral's sentence to a flogging. the brave man was stretched upon the ground by four slaves. turning to captain ballaban, the sultan bade him lay on the lash. ballaban hesitated. drawing near to mahomet, he said respectfully, but firmly, "the janizaries are soldiers, not executioners, sire." mahomet's rage burst as suddenly as powder under the spark. "away with the rebel!" cried he. "we will find the executioner for him, too, who dares to disobey our orders." seizing his golden mace, the sultan himself beat the prostrate form of the admiral until it was senseless. wearying of his bloody work, mahomet glared like a half satiated beast upon those about him. "where is the damned rebel who dares dispute my will? did no one arrest him?" "the order was not so understood," said an aga who was near. "you understand it now," growled the infuriated, yet half-ashamed, monarch. "arrest him!--but no! let these slaves go search for the runaway. it shall be their office to deal with one who dares to break with my will." the janizaries returned to their places near the walls. mahomet was ill at ease when his better judgment displaced his unwise passion. his love for ballaban, the manliness of the captain's reply to the unreasonable order, and the danger of injuring one who stood so high in the estimate of the entire janizary corps, were not outweighed even by the sense of the indignity which the act of disobedience had put upon the royal authority. the slaves, not daring to venture among the janizaries in their search for captain ballaban, easily persuaded themselves that he must have fled; and that, perhaps, he might be lurking somewhere on the shore, as this was the only way of escape. their search was rewarded. though in the disguise of scant garments, utterly exhausted so that he could make no resistance, their victim was readily recognized by his form and features, which were too peculiar to be mistaken. the captain had apparently attempted to escape by water; perhaps, had ventured upon some chance kaik or raft, and been wrecked in the caldron which the strong south wind made with the current pouring from the north. his wet garments, such as he had not stripped off, and his exhausted look confirmed their theory. one of their number brought the report to the grand vizier, kalil, who repeated it to the sultan. "i will deal with him in person. let no one know of the capture until i have seen him," said mahomet, seeking an opportunity to revoke the threat against his friend, which he had uttered in insane rage; and, at the same time, to cover his imperial dignity by the semblance of a trial. the culprit was brought in the early evening to the sultan's tent. a large lantern of various colored crystals hung from the ridge-pole, and threw its beautiful, but partly obscured, light over the arraigned man. his captors had clothed him in the uniform of the janizaries. "his face has a strange look, as if another's soul had taken lodging behind the familiar lineaments," the sultan remarked to kalil as he scanned the culprit closely. "do you know, knave, in whose presence you are?" said mahomet, sternly. "i know not, sire, except that the excellent adornment of your person and pavilion suggest that i am in the presence of his majesty the--" "silence, villain! do you mock me?" cried the padishah, in surprise at the man's assumed ignorance. "i mock thee not, sire," said the victim, bowing with courtly reverence, and speaking in a sort of patois of greek and turkish. "but i was about to say that i know thee not, except that from the excellence of thy person and estate thou art none less"---- "silence, you dog! this is no time for your familiar jesting, ballaban. speak pure tongue, or i'll cut thine from thy head!" interrupted the padishah. "i speak as best i can," replied the man, "for i was not brought up to the turkish tongue. i presume that i address the king of the turks." "miserable wretch!" hissed his majesty, drawing his jewelled sword. "dare you call me king of the _turks_? turks! thou circumcised christian dog! thou pup of nazarene parentage! thou damned infidel, beplastered with moslem favors!"[ ] "it would seem that i needed moslem favors, which in my destitute condition and imminent danger, i most humbly crave," replied the object of this contumely. "are you mad?" shrieked the sultan, rising and glaring into the other's face. "you _are_ mad, man. poor soul! ay! ay! i see it now. some demon has possessed you. some witch has blown on the knots against you."[ ] "i am not mad, sire," said the culprit, "but a poor castaway on your coast." "hear him, poor fellow! so mad that he knows not himself. well! well! i must forgive you then for not knowing me," said mahomet, with genuine pity. "did you love me so, old comrade, that my harsh words knocked over your reason? or did your reason, toppling over, lead you to challenge me as you did? we must cure this malady, though it takes the treasure of the empire to do it." lowering his voice he addressed the vizier: "i could not believe that my faithful comrade would have rebelled. it was not he, but the demon who has possessed him. think you not so, good kalil?" the vizier bowed in assent to the sultan's theory, and whispered, "it provides a wise escape from antagonizing the janizaries. but you should summon a physician." clapping his hands, an attendant appeared, who was dispatched for the court physician; a man of fame in his profession, whose duty it was to be always within call of the sultan. the physician entering, examined the culprit, looking into his eyes, balancing his head between his hands to determine if there were any sudden disturbance of the proportionate avoirdupois; noting if his tongue lay in the middle of his mouth, and feeling his pulse. at length he said in low voice to the sultan and vizier: "there is, sire, no outward evidences of lacking wit. i would have him speak." "he is the janizary, captain ballaban," whispered the vizier. "you will observe that the wit is clean gone from him. tell us your story, ballaban, or whoever you are." "i beg the favor of your excellency, your lordship, sire; for, since you deny that you are the king of the turks, i know not what title to give to your authority. i am your prisoner. i fought on the byzantine galley as jesu gave me strength, but was unfortunate enough to fall overboard, and fortunate enough to avoid capture by the turkish boats, as i dived beneath them, or rested myself below their sterns until i reached the shore. but as heaven willed it, i landed below the walls of the city. i was altogether weaponless, having shuffled off my armor that i might swim--and altogether blown by my effort--or, by the bones of abraham! i had never been captured by the cowardly slaves you sent. i ask only the treatment of an honorable enemy." "by the beard of the prophet!" exclaimed mahomet, "if he were a christian i would give him liberty for the valor of his speech. some of the spirit of our gallant ballaban is still left in him. the witches could not take the great heart out of him, though they stole away his wits. what say you, sage murta?" the physician replied, knitting his brows and stroking his chin-- "the padishah is wise. the man is mad. but since his heart is not touched by the demon, but only his memory erased and his imagination distorted, my science tells me there is hope of his cure." "what medicament have you for a diseased mind?" asked the sultan. with reverent pomposity, but in low voice not overheard by the patient, the physician uttered the prescription: "first, we have the religious cure--if so be that the man is under the charm of the evil spirits--find thee a cord with eleven knots tied on it:--for such was the number on the cord with which the daughters of lobeid, the jew, bewitched the prophet. as thou untiest the knots repeat the last two chapters of the koran, which the angel gabriel revealed as the talisman, saying-- "'i fly for refuge unto the lord of the daybreak, that he may deliver me from the mischief of the night, when it cometh on; and from the mischief of women, blowing on the knots; and from the mischief of the envious; and from the mischief of the whisperer, the devil, who slyly withdraweth, who whispereth evil suggestions into the breasts of men: and from genii and men.' "if this should fail--as i have known it to fail in the case of those who were not born in the sacred family of islâm--we should try the virtues of the heritage bowl, which is much esteemed among the giaours. i have possessed myself of one, once the property of an ancient family. it is made of silver, and engraved with forty-one padlocks. a decoction mixed in this bowl, and poured on the head of the patient any time within seven weeks after the day on which they celebrate the imagined rising of jesu, son of mary, from the dead, will often break the most malignant spell. the christian paska[ ] is just past; so that it will be opportune." "but should this likewise fail?" asked mahomet, impatient with the sage's prolixity. "ah! we shall then have to try our strictly human remedies. this ailment is called by the latin disciples of galen, _dementia_, which signifieth that the man's mind, his natural thoughts, have gone away from him. we must recall them. for this we must have some strong appeal to that which was his hottest passion or interest before his mind flew away from him. do you know the absorbing humor of this man? was he a lover? if so, we must find the fair one who has robbed him of his better part, and, restoring her to him, we shall restore him to himself." "nay," said mahomet. "captain ballaban was never enamored of woman. the maid who lured the prophet from the charms of ayesha and hafsa,[ ] would not have turned ballaban's head. i once offered him the choice of a bevy of georgians; but he would not even look at them. he is a soldier; from tassel to shoe-thong a soldier." "ah! then we have the remedy at hand," said murta, rolling his eyes as if reading the prescription in the air. "give him command; military excitement; honors of the field. when the cimeters gleam then will reason flash again. and my science is at fault if the simple summons to some high duty work not a counter charm to break the spell that is on him, though it were woven by the mystic dance of all the genii and devils." "we will try this last remedy first," said mahomet. "dismiss him. let him go as he will, without hindrance or seeming to follow, until my orders be brought him by his aga. in the meantime search the shore for the knotted cord the witches may have blown upon. and, good murta, send for the silver bowl; for my brain is that hot that i fear me the giaour ghosts we have sent gibbering to hell during the last few days have left the spell of their evil eyes upon me too." the following day was not far advanced when captain ballaban was summoned to the sultan's tent, the rumor of his restoration to royal favor having been made to precede the summons. in fact, after the affair of the preceding afternoon, ballaban had not gone to the sea shore, but retired to his own quarters, where he loyally awaited either his death summons, or an invitation for some wild frolic with the padishah; he knew not which, so thought about neither; but busied himself over a plan for a new gun-carriage he was going to submit to urban. with assumed stolidity he entered the royal tent. as he rose from his obeisance upon the earth, his majesty embraced him with boyish delight. "your old self again: i see your soul in your face. i'd give half the horse-tails in the empire rather than lose that shock of hair from my sight, or the glowing brain that is under it from my councils, my red-headed angel!" "there is no need to lose it, except by cutting it off at my shoulders," said ballaban, falling in with the humor of the sultan, yet watchful not to be taken unawares, if, in its fitfulness, that humor should turn. "i have a grand service for you, if you have skill and courage enough to execute it," said mahomet, watching the effect on his friend. the captain's eyes flashed with the prospect, as he said: "i wait your plan, sire; only let it be bold." "i have no plan, you must make one. i would see if your brain is as square as the pot you keep it in," said the sultan, tapping him on the head with a jewelled whip staff, and adding, "it is evident, captain, that we must get possession of the golden horn; for so long as the enemy hold that for their harbor, we cannot prevent their reprovisioning the city as they did yesterday; and a few more such auxiliaries as they brought, indeed, another such leader as the genoese giustiniani, would compel us to raise the siege. how can we take the harbor? our boats can never raise the chain at the mouth." "that has been my problem since the siege began," said ballaban. "i remember while in albania, as i lodged one night in a village, i met with some italian officers, who had come to offer their swords to castriot. they told how they moved their fleet overland, several miles on a roadway of timbers.[ ] we can use that device. the thing is not impracticable; for there is a depression to the north of galata, through which from the bosphorus to the inland extremity of the golden horn is but five or six miles. our vessels are not large; could be transported with the multitudes of our troops, and on the still water of the harbor would soon, by superior numbers, capture those of the christians." "a good conception!" said mahomet, "and if my reading has not been at fault, the roman augustus did something similar.[ ] it shall be done. let it not be said that the ottoman was surpassed in daring or difficulty of enterprise by pagan or christian. you shall perform it, ballaban. the woods above galata will serve for planking, and the engineers can be spared from before the walls until it is accomplished." a few days later a large fleet of the moslems was conveyed overland, by means of a roadway of greased timbers. to the amazement of the christians their adversary's navy no longer lay idly upon the bosphorus, but was transformed into a line of floating batteries within the harbor of the golden horn, and from their rear soon destroyed the fleet of the defenders. footnotes: [ ] the ottomans regard the appellation of "king of the turks" as an insult, since the turks are comparatively few of the many subjects of the sultan in europe. some of the most distinguished servants of the empire are of christian parentage, and either have been conquered or have voluntarily submitted to the domination of the moslem. [ ] the moslem superstition led them to believe that witches, by tying knots in a cord and blowing on them, brought evil to the person they had in mind. [ ] easter. [ ] the coptic mary with whom the prophet was said to have been enamored. [ ] in the venetians carried many large ships across the country from the river adige to the lake of garda. [ ] at actium. chapter xli. the city was now completely invested. menaced from all sides, the defenders were not sufficient in numbers to guard the many approaches. yet the daily fighting was desperate, for the moslems were inspired by the certainty of success, while the christians were nerved with the energy of despair. to end the siege mahomet designated a time for a combined assault from sea and land. as the fatal day dawned, numberless hordes moved towards the walls. the great ditches were soon filled with the dead bodies of thousands of the least serviceable soldiers, who had been driven from behind by the lances of the trained bands, that they might thus worry the patience and exhaust the resources of the brave defenders, without taxing the best of the moslem troops. the carcasses of the slain made a highway for the living, over which they poured against the gate of st. romanus. the four grim towers toppled beneath the pounding of great stone balls hurled from the cannon of urban. the defenders were driven off the adjacent walls by the storms of bullets and arrows that swept them. at the critical moment the janizaries, unwearied as yet by watching or fighting, twelve thousand strong, as compact a mass beneath the eye of the sultan as the weapon he held in his hand, moved to where the breach was widest. "the spoil to all! a province to him who first enters!" cried the sultan, waving his iron battle mace. hassan, the giant, first mounted the rampart, and fell pierced with arrows and crushed with stones. but through the gap his dying valor had made in the ranks of the foe first rushed the company of ballaban. in vain did the people crowd beneath the dome of st. sophia, grasping with hopeless hope an ancient prophecy that at the extreme moment an angel would descend to rescue the city. alas! only the angel of death came that day; and to none brought he more welcome news than to the emperor,--"thy prayer is answered; for thou hast fallen where the dead lie thickest!" near the gateway of st. romanus, where he had met the first of the invaders, under the piles of the dead, gashed by sabre strokes and crushed beneath the feet of the victors, lay the body of constantine palæologus, the noblest of the cæsars of the eastern empire! the turks placed his ghastly head between the feet of the bronze horse, a part of the equestrian statue of justinian, where it was reverently saluted even by the moslems, who paused in the rage of the sack to think upon the virtue and courage of the unfortunate monarch. captain ballaban had pressed rapidly through the city to the doors of st. sophia. the oaken gates flew back under the axes of the moslems. monks and matrons, children and nuns, lords and beggars were crowded together, not knowing whether the grand dome would melt away and a legion of angels descend for their relief, or the vast enclosure would become a pen of indiscriminate slaughter. the motley and helpless misery excited the pity of the captors. ballaban's voice rang through the arches, proclaiming safely to those who should submit. that he might the better command the scene, he made his way to the chancel in front of the grand altar. it was filled with the nuns, repeating their prayers. among them was the fair albanian. her face was but partly toward him, yet he could never mistake that queenly head. she was addressing the sisters. holding aloft the bright shaft of a stiletto, she cried,-- "let us give ourselves to heaven, but never to the harem!" ballaban paused an instant. but that instant seemed to him many minutes. as, under the lightning's flash, the whole moving panorama of the wide landscape seems to stand still, and paints vividly its prominent objects, however scattered, upon the startled eye of the beholders; so his mind marvellously quickened by the excitement, took in at once the long track of his own life. he saw a little child's hand wreathing him with flowers plucked beside a cottage on the balkans; a lovely captive whose face was lit by the blazing home in a hamlet of albania; a form of one at sfetigrade lying still and faint with sickness, but radiant as with the beginning of transfiguration for the spirit life; and the queenly being who was borne in the palanquin through the gate of phranza. but how changed! how much more glorious now! earthly beauty had become haloed with the heavenly. he never had conceived of such majesty, such glory of personality, such splendor of character, as were revealed by her attitude, her eye, her voice, her purpose. "but now," thought he, "the descending blade will change this utmost sublimity of being into a little heap of gory dust!" all this flashed through his mind. in another instant his strong hand had caught the arm of the voluntary sacrifice. the stiletto, falling, caught in the folds of her garments, and then rang upon the marble floor of the chancel. morsinia uttered a shriek and fell, apparently as lifeless as if the blade had entered her heart. the janizary stood astounded. a tide of feeling strange to him poured through his soul. for the first time in his life he felt a horror of war. not thousands writhing on the battle field could blanch his cheek with pity for their pangs: but that one voice rang through and through him, and rent his heart with sympathetic agony. her cry had become a cry of his own soul too. for the first time he realized the dignity of woman's character. this woman was not even wounded. she had fallen beneath the stroke of a thought, a sentiment, a woman's notion of her honor! the women he had known had no such fatal scruples. other captive beauties soon became accustomed to their new surroundings. many even offered to buy with their charms an exchange of poverty for the luxuries of the harem of pashas and wealthy moslems. was this a solitary woman's tragedy of virtue? or was it some peculiar teaching of the christian's faith that inspired her to such heroism? however it came, the man knew that with her it was a mighty reality; this instinct of virtue; this sanctity of person. and this woman was his dream made real! a celestial ideal which he had touched! the man's brain reeled with the shock of these tenderer and deeper feelings, coming after the wildness of the battle rage. he grasped the altar for support. the blood seemed to have ceased to bound in his veins, the temples to be pulseless; a band to have been drawn tightly about his brain so as to paralyze its action. he felt himself falling. a deathly sickness spread through his frame. he was sure he had fainted. he thought he must have been unconscious for a while. yet when he opened his eyes, the soldier near him was in the same attitude of dragging a nun by her wrists as when he last saw him. time had stood still with his pulses. he shuddered at the cruelty on every side, as the shrieks from the high galleries were answered by those in distant alcoves and from the deep crypt. he watched the groups of old men and children, monks and senators, nuns and courtesans, tied together and dragged away, some for slaughter, some for princely ransom, some for shame. the building was well emptied when the sultan entered. he at once advanced to the altar and proclaimed: "god is god; there is but one god, and mahomet is the apostle of god!" "but whom have we here, captain ballaban?" "your majesty, i am guarding a beautiful captive whom i would not have fall into the hands of the common soldiers; i take it, of high estate," replied the janizary, knowing that such an introduction to the royal attention alone could save her from the fate which awaited the unhappy maidens, most of whom were liable to be sold to brutal masters and transported to distant provinces. the sultan gazed upon the partly conscious woman, and commanded,---- "let her be veiled! seek out a goodly house. find the eunuch tamlich." ballaban shuddered at this command, and was about to reply, when his judgment suggested that he was impotent to dispute the royal will except by endangering the life or the welfare of his captive. the safest place for her was, after all, with the maidens who were known to be the choice of the sultan, and thus beyond insult by any except the imperial debauchee. mahomet ii. gave orders for the immediate transformation of the christian temple of st. sophia into a mosque. in a few hours desolation reigned in those "courts of the lord's house," which, when first completed, ages ago, drew from the imperial founder, the remark: "oh, solomon! i have surpassed thee!" and which, though the poverty of later monarchs had allowed it to become sadly impaired, was yet regarded by the greek christians as worthy of being the vestibule of heaven. the command of the sultan: "take away every trace of the idolatry of the infidel!" was obeyed in demolishing the rarest gems of christian art to which attached the least symbolism of the now abolished worship. the arms were chiseled off the marble crosses which stood out in relief from the side walls, and from the bases of the gigantic pillars. the rare mosaics which lined the church as if it were a vast casket--the fitting gift of the princes of the earth to the king of kings--were plastered or painted over. the altar, that marvellous combination of gold and silver and bronze, conglomerate with a thousand precious stones, was torn away, that the red slab of the mihrab might point the prayers of the new devotees toward mecca. the furniture, from that upon the grand altar to the banners and mementoes of a thousand years, the donations of greek emperors and sovereigns of other lands, was broken or torn into pieces. there remained only the grand proportions of the building--its chief glory--enriched by polished surfaces of marble and porphyry slabs; the superb pillars brought by the reverent cupidity of earlier ages from the ruined temple of diana at ephesus, the temple of the sun at palmyra, the temple on the acro-corinthus, and the mythologic urn from pergamus, which latter, having been used as a baptismal font by the followers of jesus, was now devoted to the ablutions of the moslems. from st. sophia the sultan passed to the palace of the greek cæsars. "truly! truly!" said he "the spider's web is the royal curtain; the owl sounds the watch cry on the towers of afrasiab," quoting from the persian poet firdusi, as he gazed about the deserted halls. he issued his mandate which should summon architects and decorators, not only from his dominions, but from christian nations, to adorn the splendid headland with the palatial motley of walls and kiosks which were to constitute his new seraglio. the considerateness of ballaban led him to select the house of phranza as the place to which morsinia was taken. the noble site and substantial structure of the mansion of the late chamberlain commended it to the sultan for the temporary haremlik; and the familiar rooms alleviated, like the faces of mute friends, the wildness of the grief of their only familiar captive. chapter xlii. constantine, after his escape from the sultan's tent, where he had been taken for the demented ballaban, was unable to enter constantinople before it fell. his heart was torn with agonizing solicitude for the fate of morsinia. he knew too well the determination of the dauntless girl in the event of her falling into the hands of the turks. filling his dreams at night, and rising before him as a terrible apparition by day, was that loved form, a suicide empurpled with its own gore. yet love and duty led him to seek her, or at least to seek the certainty of her fate. he therefore disguised himself as a moslem and mingled with the throng of soldiers and adventurers who entered the city under its new possessors. he wandered for hours about the familiar streets, that, perchance, he might come upon some memorial of her. the secrets of the royal harem he could not explore, even if suspicion led his thought thither. the proximity of the residence of phranza was guarded by the immediate servants of the sultan, so that he was deprived of even the fond misery of visiting the scenes so associated with his former joy. in passing through one of the narrowest and foulest streets--the only ones that had been left undisturbed by the vandalism of the conquerors--he came upon an old woman, hideous in face and decrepit, whom he remembered as a beggar at the gate of phranza. from her he learned many stories of the last hours of the siege. according to her story she had gone among the first to st. sophia. when the moslems entered they tied her by a silken girdle to the person of the grand chamberlain, and, amid the jeers of the soldiers, marched them together to the hippodrome. she remembered the sultan as he rode on his horse,--how he struck with his battle hammer one of the silver heads of the bronze serpents, and cried: "so i smite the heads of the kingdoms!" just as he did so he turned, and saw her in her rags tied to the courtly-robed lord, and in an angry voice commanded that the princely man be loosed from contact with the filthy hag. phranza was taken away: but nobody cared to take her away. she was trampled by the crowd, but lived. and nobody thought of turning her out of her hovel home. she was as safe as is a rat when the robbers have killed the nobler inmates of a house. the woman said that she had heard that the daughter of phranza was sent away somewhere to an island home. but the albanian princess,--yes, she knew her well; for no hand used to drop so bountifully the alms she asked, or said so kindly "jesu pity you, my good woman!" as did that beautiful lady. the beggar declared that she stood near her by the altar in st. sophia. "she looked so saintly there! there was a real aureole about her head as she prayed, so she was a saint indeed. then she raised her dagger!" but the wretched watcher could watch no longer, though she heard her cry, so wild that she would never cease to hear it. the beggar ceased her story; all her words had cut through her listener's heart as if they had been daggers. "it is well!" he said, "i will go to albania. among those who loved her i will worship her memory; and, under castriot, i will seek my revenge." chapter xliii. morsinia's fears, and her horror at the anticipated life in the harem, were not confirmed by its actual scenes. except for the constant surveillance of the nubian eunuchs and female attendants, there was no restriction upon her liberty. she passed through the familiar corridors, and rested upon the divan in what had been her own chamber in better days. other female captives became her companions; but among them were none of those belonging to constantinople. suburban villages were represented; but most of the odalisks[ ] were circassian beauties, whose conduct did not indicate that they felt any shame in their condition. they indulged in jealous rivalry, estimating their own worth by the sums which the agents of the sultan had paid their parents for their possession; or bantering one another as to who of their number would first meet the fancy of their royal master. there were several greeks, who, with more modesty of speech, spared none of the arts of the toilet to prepare themselves to better their condition in the only way that was now open to them. a coptic girl had been sent by eenal, the borghite khalif of egypt, as a present to the sultan. her form was slight, and without the fullness of development which other races associate with female beauty, but of wonderful grace of pose and motion; her face was broad; eyes wide and expressionless; mouth straight. yet her features had that symmetry and balance which gave to them a strange fascination. the turcoman emir who had already given his daughter to mahomet--the nuptials with whom he was celebrating when called to the throne--exercised still further his fatherly office in presenting to his son-in-law as fine a pair of black eyes as ever flashed their cruel commands to an amative heart. to study this physiognomical museum afforded morsinia an entertaining relief from the otherwise constant torture of her thoughts. to her further diversion one was introduced into the harem who spoke her own albanian tongue. this new comer was of undoubted beauty, so far as that quality could be the product of merely physical elements. it was of the kind that might bind a god on earth, but could never help a soul to heaven. her lower face, with full red lips arching the pearliest teeth, and complexion ruddy with the glow of health, shading into the snowy bosom, might perhaps serve to make a venus; but her upper features, the low forehead and dilated nostrils, could never have been made to bespeak the thoughtful minerva in this retreat of those, who, to the moslem imagination, are the types of heavenly perfection. her eyes were bright, but only with surface lustre. her nature evidently contained no depths which could hold either noble resentment or self sacrificing love; either grand earthly passion or heavenly faith. this woman's vanity did not long keep back the story of her life. she told of her conquest of the village swains who fought for the possession of her charms; of the devotion of an albanian prince who took her dowerless in preference to the ladies of great family and fortune, and would have bestowed upon her the heirship to his estates: of how she was stolen away from the great castle by a company of turkish officers, who afterward fought among themselves for the privilege of presenting her to the validé sultana;[ ] for it was about the time of the ramedan feast when the sultan's mother made an annual gift to her son of the most beautiful woman she could secure. the vain captive declared that the jealousy of the odalisks at adrianople had led the kislar aga to send her here to constantinople. "and who was the albanian nobleman whose bride you had become?" asked morsinia. "oh, one who is to be king of albania one day, the voivode amesa." "ah!" said morsinia, "this is news from my country. when was it determined that amesa should be king?" "oh! every one speaks of it at the castle as if it were well understood. and when he becomes king then he will claim me again from mahomet, though he must ransom me with half his kingdom. yes, i am to be a queen; and indeed i may be one already, for perhaps lord amesa is now on the throne. and that is the reason i wear the cord of gold in my hair; for one day my royal lover will put the crown here." the bedizened beauty rose and paced to and fro through the great salôn. the pride which gave the majestic toss to her head, however it would have marred that ethereal form which the inner eye of the moralist or the christian always sees, and which is called character, only gave an additional charm to her;--as the delicate yet stately comb of the peacock adds to the fascination of that bird. her carriage combined the gracefulness of perfect anatomy and health with the dignity which conceit, thoroughly diffused in muscle and nerve, lent to all her movements. with that step upon it no carpet beneath a throne would have been dishonored. her dress was in exquisite keeping with her person. the close fitting zone or girdle about her waist left the bust uncontorted; a model which needed no device to supplement the perfection of nature. a robe of purple velvet trailed luxuriantly behind; but in front was looped so as to display the loose trousers of white silk which were gathered below the knee and fell in full ruffles about the unstockinged ankles, but not so low as to conceal the rings of silver which clasped them, and the slippers of yellow satin, ending in long and curved points, which protruded from beneath. as the other women gazed at this self-assumed queen of the harem the green fire of jealousy flashed alike from black eyes and blue. the straight thin noses of the greeks for the moment forgot their classic models, and dilated as if in rivalry of that flattened feature of the egyptian; while the straight mouth of the daughter of the nile writhed in indescribable curves, indicative of commingled wrath, hatred, pique and scorn. this parade would have produced in morsinia the feeling of contempt, were it not for that sisterly interest which was awakened by the fact that she was her own country-woman. morsinia's face, usually calm in its great dignity and reserve, now flushed with the struggle between indignation and pity for the girl. at this moment the purple hangings which separated the salôn from the open court were held aside by the silver staff of the eunuch in charge; and the young padishah stood as a spectator of the scene. "ah! tamlich," cried he, addressing the black eunuch, "you were right in saying that the great haremlik at adrianople, with its thousand goddesses, could not rival this temporary one for the fairness of the birds you have caged in it." the women made the temineh--a salutation with the right hand just sweeping the floor, and then pressed consecutively to the heart, the lips and the forehead; a movement denoting reverence, and, at the same time, giving field for the display of the utmost grace of motion. the padishah passed among these his slaves with the license which betokened his absolute ownership; stroking their hair and toying with their persons according to his amiable or insolent caprice. morsinia, however, was spared this familiarity. the sultan himself colored slightly as he addressed her a few words in greek, of which language, in common with several others, he knew enough to act as his own interpreter. his questions were respectful, all limited to her comfort in her new home. with elissa, the queenly albanian, he was at once on terms of intimacy. her manner betokened that she gave to him only too willingly whatever he might be disposed to take. as the sultan withdrew, the eunuch tamlich remarked to him: "my surmise of your excellency's judgment was verified. said i not that the two arnaouts were the fairest? and did i not behold your majesty gaze longest upon them?" "i commend your taste, tamlich," replied mahomet. "but those two are as unlike as a ruby and a pearl." "but as fair as either, are they not? the chief hamamjina[ ] declares that the blue-eyed one has the most perfect form she ever saw; and that it is a form which will improve with years. morsinia hanoum[ ] will be more fit for paradise, while elissa hanoum may lose the grace of the maiden as a matron. but the cherry is ripe for the plucking now." "i like the ruby better than the pearl," said the sultan. "i cannot quite fathom the deep eye of the latter. she thinks too much. i would not have women think. they are to make us stop thinking. the problems of state are sufficiently perplexing: i want no human problem in my arms." "but one who thinks may have some skill in affording amusement. have i not heard thee say, sire, 'blessed is the one who can invent a new recreation?' that requires thinking." "right, tamlich! can she sing?" "ay! your majesty, to the greek cythera; and such songs that, though they know not a word of them--for the songs are in her own arnaout tongue--the odalisks all fall to weeping." "i like not such singing," said mahomet. "to make people think with her thoughtful eyes is bad enough in a woman. to make them weep with her voice is wicked, is christian. i will give her away to some one who wants a wife that thinks. there is hamed bey, one of the muderris[ ] who is to be put at the head of my new chain of ulemas.[ ] he will want a wife who thinks; and his eyes are that blind with dry study that it will do him good to weep. but who is the woman? i think i saw her face in st. sophia the day of our entry." "she belonged to the house-hold of phranza, the chamberlain, who possessed this very house," replied the eunuch. "and i think, from its goodly size and decoration, he must have used the treasury of the empire freely." "to phranza! why, i have a daughter of his in the nursery at adrianople. his wife i have given to the master of the horse.[ ] his son i have this day sent to hell for his insolence. but she is an arnaout; therefore not of kin to phranza. search out her story, tamlich! for a member of the family of phranza, and not of his blood, may be of some political consequence. i will keep her. but get her story, tamlich, get her story!" "i have it already, sire," replied the eunuch. "ah!" "she is a ward of scanderbeg, the arnaout traitor, sent to constantinople to escape the danger of capture by thine all-conquering arms. but the bird fled from the fowler into the snare." "perhaps a child of scanderbeg! eh, tamlich? one at least whose life is of great value to him, and was to the greek empire. i will inform scanderbeg that she is in my possession. by the dread of what may happen to her i shall the easier force that ravening brute to make terms; for i am tired of battering my sword against his rocks, trying to prick his skin. keep her close, tamlich, keep her close!" footnotes: [ ] odalisk; the title of a childless inmate of the harem. [ ] mother of the sultan. [ ] hamamjina; bath attendant. [ ] hanoum; a title given to matrons. [ ] muderris; professors in the high schools. [ ] chain of ulemas; a renowned system of colleges. [ ] gibbon; chapter lxviii. chapter xliv. late in the day the sultan retired to a neighboring mansion, once possessed by the greek grand duke, lucas notaras, and there sought relaxation from the incessant cares of the empire. the day had been wearisome. architects had submitted plans for the detailed ornamentation of the new seraglio which was rising on the byzantine point. one of the plans led to dispute between the padishah and the chief mufti, the expounder of the moslem law. it was occasioned thus. the porphyry column[ ] which stood hard by the palace of the greek emperors, had once served to hold aloft the bronze statue of apollo, a precious relic of ancient greek mythology. this was afterward reverenced by the people as the figure of the emperor constantine the great, or worshipped by them as that of christ. an architect proposed that the time-glorious shaft should now be surmounted by the colossal statue of mahomet ii. the mufti declared the project to be impious, as tempting to idolatry, against which the koran was so clear and denunciatory, and also the sounna or traditional sayings of the prophet. the sultan's pride rebelled against this assumption of an authority above his own. but the sultan's superstitious regard for the faith among the people, which led him to wash his hands and face openly whenever he spoke with the architect, who was a christian engaged at great cost from italy, also led him to fear to break with the prescriptions and customs of his religion in this matter. he contented himself with an oath that he had sooner lost the honor of a campaign than the privilege of seeing himself represented as the conqueror of both constantine and christ. generals, too, had been in council with him that day regarding the conduct of intrigues for the possession of the peloponnesus, and about the wars in servia, boznia and trebizond. ill tidings had come from albania, where scanderbeg was consuming the turkish armies, as a great spider entraps in his webs and at his leisure devours a swarm of hornets, which, could they have free access to him, would instantly sting him to death. the messenger who brought this news was rewarded by having hurled at his head an immense vase of malachite, in the exertion of lifting which the imperial wrath was sufficiently eased to allow of his turning to other business. a plan for the reception of the inmates of the grand harem at adrianople, when they should be transported to the spacious buildings being constructed for them in the seraglio, was also a pleasing diversion, and led the sultan to make the brief visit to the fair ones at the house of phranza, which has been described. but the nettled spirit of the padishah was far from subdued. he had during the day given an order, the sequel to which we must relate, and which, while it disturbed his conscience and flooded him at moments with the sense of self-contempt, also inflamed his natural passion for cruelty. he determined to drown the noble, and to satiate the the vicious, craving by an hour or two of unrestrained debauch. in the court of the house of the grand duke notaras was spread the royal banquet. rarest viands were flanked by flagons of costliest wines. upon the momentary surprise of the steward when he received the order to provide the wines, the monarch cried in a contemptuous tone: "ah! i know your thoughts. it is not according to the koran that wine should be drunk. but by the staff of moses,[ ] which they found in the palace of the cæsars yonder, i swear that mahomet the emperor shall not yield to mahomet the prophet in everything. the prophet made laws to suit his own taste, so will i[ ]. he can have mecca and medina and jerusalem; but i shall reign without him in my own palace in stamboul, which i have captured with my own hand. bring the wine, or i'll spill your black blood as a beverage to those in hell! it will be sweet enough for your kin who are black with roasting. i will have wine to-day! cool it in all the snows from mount olympus yonder; for my blood is as hot as if i were shod with fire; and my skull boils like a pot."[ ] about the table were divans cushioned with down and covered with yellow silk. the padishah took his seat upon the highest cushion. by his side stood the chief of the black eunuchs, splendidly[ ] attired in the waistcoat of flower embroidered brocade, tunic of scarlet, flowing trousers, red turban, and half boots of bronzed leather. he held a wand of silver covered with elegant tracery and topped in filagree. as he waved this symbol of his office, there came from the various doors opening into the court groups of the harem women. they were draped in gauze, in the folds of which sparkled diamonds and glowed the hues of precious stones selected by the taste of the chief eunuch to set off the complexion and hair of their various wearers, and at the same time to facilitate their grouping into sets of dancers. the court was made radiant with these beautiful forms, which moved in circles or in spirals about the fountains and under the orange trees, whose white blossoms and golden fruit in simultaneous fulness completed the picture for the eye, while their fragrance loaded the air with its delicate delight. the kislar aga had arranged a scene which especially pleased the monarch, whose head was already swimming with the combined effect of the mazy dance and the fumes of the wine. an attendant led into the court, held partly by a strong leash and partly by the voice of his trainer, a magnificent leopard. with utmost grace the beast leaped over the ribboned wand, falling so softly to the ground that, though of enormous weight, he would not seemingly have broken a twig had it lain beneath his feet. in imitation of this, a eunuch led into the court by a leash of roses a circassian dancer, the gift of a caramanian prince. her form was as free from the hindrances of dress as that of her spotted competitor; except that a bright gem burned upon her forehead, in the node which gathered a part of her hair; while the abundance of her tresses was either held out on her snowy arms, or fell about her as a veil almost to her feet. with a hundred variations the girl repeated the motions of the leopard, leaping the wands with equal grace as she came to them in the measures of the dance. the great brute had laid his head in the lap of his trainer, and was watching his beautiful rival with apparent enjoyment; only now and then uttering a low growl as if in jealousy, when the bravo! of the sultan rewarded some especially fascinating movement. the girl came to the side of the magnificent monster and dropped her long hair over his head. the brute closed his eyes as if soothed by the wooing of the maiden. cautiously, but encouraged by the low voice of the trainer, she placed her head upon the mottled and living pillow. a great paw was thrown about her shoulder. the sultan was in ecstasy of applause, and shouted: "a collar of gold for each of them!" the girl attempted to rise, but her splendid lover seemed to have become really enamored of the beautiful form he held. her slightest motion was answered by a growl; while the swaying of his tail indicated that, as among human kind, so with the brutes, the softest sentiments were to be guarded by those of a severer nature; that baffled love must meet the avenging of cruel wrath. like the affection of some men, that of the leopard was limited to its own gratification, and utterly regardless of the comfort of its object; for the fondness of the brute was not such as to prevent his long nails protruding through their velvet covering, and entering the bare flesh of the girl. she quivered with pain, yet, at the quick warning of the trainer, she made no outcry. the man drew from his pocket a small bit of raw flesh, and diverted the eyes of the brute from the blood streaming at each claw-puncture on the neck and bosom of his victim. the leopard savagely snapped at the morsel, and, at the same instant struck it with his paw, and leaped to seize it as it was hurled many feet away. the girl as quickly darted to a safe distance. attendants instantly appeared and surrounded the beast with their spear points. he crouched at the feet of the trainer, and whined in fear until he was led out. the girls then encircled the seat of the sultan, and vied with one another in the simulated attempt to throw over him a spell. nor was the attempt merely simulated, as each one displayed the utmost art of beauty and manner to win from the half-drunken tyrant some token of his favor. when elissa came near the sultan, he bade her play with him as the circassian did with the leopard. he held her and exclaimed to the others: "beware your leopard when he growls! but where is the other arnaout? i will have the pearl with the ruby of the harem! where is she, i say? did i not order you to bring all the odalisks to my feast?" "from your majesty's orders but lately, sire, i supposed--" began the eunuch. "supposed? you are to obey, not to suppose," cried the demented man, slashing at him with the cimeter that lay at his feet. "but she is not robed for the feast." "bring her as she is, and robe her here. you said that she was fairer than this one. if she is not fairer than this one, the leopard's claws will grip her, and the beast shall have your black body for his next supper. bring her!" the eunuch soon returned with morsinia. she wore a sombre feridjé, or cloak completely enveloping the person. this she had on at the moment she was summoned, and the eunuch obeyed literally the mandate of the monarch to bring her as she was. as she stood before the sultan she appeared, in contrast with her half naked and bejeweled sisters, like a prophetess; some female elijah before ahab surrounded by his household of jezebels. throwing back the yashmak, or long veil--the one moslem costume she had very willingly assumed after her captivity--she gazed upon the tyrant with a look of amazed inquiry of his meaning in summoning her to such a place. the sovereignty of her soul asserted and expressed itself in her noble brow, her clear and steady eye, her dauntless bearing. "sire, i have obeyed," said she, making the obeisance which in form was obsequious, but which she executed with such dignity that even the dull wit of the reveller felt that she had not really humbled herself before him by so much as the shadow of a thought. "disrobe her!" cried the monarch. the woman stepped back, as if to avoid the contact of her person with the black eunuch; but as suddenly threw off the feridjé herself. if she had seemed a gloomy prophetess before, her appearance now would have suggested to an ancient greek the apparition of pudicitia, the goddess of modesty. her gown of rich pearl-tinted cloth covered her shoulders; and, though opened upon the bosom, it was to show only the thick folds of white lace which embraced the throat in a ruffle, and was clasped with a single gem--a cameo presented to her by the greek emperor. the bearing of the woman gave a temporary check to the abominable rage of the royal wretch, and recalled him to his better judgment. for it was a peculiarity of mahomet that no passion or debauch could completely divert him from carrying out any plan he had devised pertaining to his imperial ambition. as certain musicians perform without the sacrifice of a note the most difficult pieces, when too drunk to hold a goblet steadily to their lips, and as certain noted generals have staggered through the battle without the slightest strategic mistake, so mahomet never lost sight of a political or military purpose he had formed. while sleeping and waking, in the wildest revelry and in the privacy of his unspeakable sensuality, that project blazed before him like a strong fire-light through the haze. "take her away! take her away!" said he to the eunuch, recollecting his purpose of using her in his negotiations with scanderbeg; and covering his retreat from his original command by the remark, "she is the woman who thinks, i want none such to put her head against my heart. she might discover my thoughts; and by the secrets of allah! if a hair of my beard knew one of my thoughts i would pluck it out and burn it."[ ] as morsinia withdrew, a eunuch approached and whispered to the sultan. "ah! it is good! good!" cried the monarch. "my lord, the grand duke notaras, will revisit his mansion. for him we have provided a feast such as his master palæologus never gave him. ah! my lovely arnaout shall sit at my right hand--for the queen of beauty has precedence to-day," said he, addressing elissa. "and the egyptian shall make me merry with the music of her voice, which i doubt not is sweeter than the strains of her native memnon. and, tamlich, you shall do me the honor of representing the king of nubia, and lie there opposite." the eunuch stood bewildered; for never before had a moslem proposed to introduce into his harem the person of any man, as now the duke of notaras was to look upon the beauties who should be reserved solely for the feasting of the padishah's eyes. mahomet, knowing his thoughts, bade him obey, and cried, "let the fair houris veil their faces with their blushes. bring in notaras!" three blacks entered, each bearing a great salver, on which was a covered dish of gold. "to tamlich i demit the honors of the board," said he, waving the foremost waiter toward the eunuch, whose face almost blanched at the strange turn affairs were taking, or perhaps with the suspicion that to-morrow his head would fall from his shoulders as the penalty of having witnessed the padishah disgrace himself. the attendants placed the dishes before the eunuch and the two favored beauties. the covers removed revealed the ghastly sight of three human heads, their unclosed eyes staring upward from their distorted faces and gory locks. the eunuch leaped from the divan. the women fell back shrieking and fainting. they were the heads of the grand duke notaras and his two children. well did the sultan need the strong diversion of the drunken revelry to drown the thoughts of what he knew to be transpiring at the hour. in spite of his royal word to the distinguished captive who had made his submission absolute, except to the extent of seeing his children dishonored to the vilest purposes, mahomet had ordered that notaras should be beheaded at the hippodrome, having been first compelled to witness the decapitation of his family. even mahomet was sobered by the horrid ghoulism he had devised, and dismissed the terror-stricken revelers with a volley of curses. footnotes: [ ] porphyry column; now the famous burnt column. [ ] staff of moses; one of the relics held sacred by the greeks at the time. [ ] gibbon's statement of mahomet ii's. opinion. [ ] punishment of those in hell, according to koran. [ ] see effigy in the museum of the elbicei-atika at constantinople. [ ] a similar remark was made afterward by mahomet ii. to a chief officer who asked him his plans for a certain campaign. chapter xlv. the courage of morsinia when she appeared before mahomet had been stimulated by an event which occurred a little before her summons. she was sitting by the latticed window in the house of phranza. it overlooked the wall surrounding the garden, which on that side was a narrow enclosure. this had been her favorite resort in brighter days. from it she could see what passed in the broad highway beyond, while the close latticed woodwork prevented her being seen by those without. while musing there she was strangely attracted by an officer who frequently passed. his shape and stature reminded her strongly of constantine. as he turned his face toward the mansion the features seemed identical with those of her foster brother. recovering from the stroke of surprise this apparition gave her, morsinia rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming, and looked again. he was in conversation with another. it could not be constantine, for, aside from the general belief in constantine's death before the termination of the siege, this person was saluted with great reverence by the soldiers who passed by, and approached with familiarity by other officers of rank. the sight brought into vivid conviction what had long been her day dream, namely, that michael, her childhood playmate, might be living, and if so, would probably be among the turkish soldiers; for his goodly physique and talent, displayed as a lad, would certainly have been cultivated by his captors. she now felt certain of her theory. so strong was the impression, and so active and exciting her thoughts as she endeavored to devise a way by which the discovery might be utilized to the advantage of both, that even the loathsome splendor of the sultan's garden party, had not impressed her as it otherwise would have done. for several days after she was almost oblivious to the monotony of the harem life; so busy was she with her new problem. she determined that, at any cost, she would bring herself into communication with the officer, and, if her theory should be confirmed, declare herself, and boldly propose that he should rescue her. for she could not conceive that, however much he had become accustomed to turkish life, he had lost all yearning for his liberty and all impression of his christian faith. but how could she convey any intelligence to him? except through the eunuchs, the inmates of the harem had little communication with the outer world. the customs of life there were as inflexible as the walls. to her natural ingenuity, now so quickened by necessity and hope, there at length appeared an end thread of the tangle. the women of the harem relieved the tedium of their existence by making various articles, the construction of which might not mar the delicacy of their fingers; such as needlework upon their own clothing, coverings for cushions, curtains, tapestried hangings, spreads for couches, cases in which the koran could be kept so that even when being read it need not be touched by the fingers, bags of scented powders, and the like. many of these articles were disposed of at the bazaars of the city, and the proceeds spent by the odalisks at their own caprice; generally for confections and gew-gaws. at the time there was quite a demand for articles made in the harem. many thousands of moslems had been imported from asia minor to take the place of the rapidly disappearing greek population. large stores of articles were sent from the great harem at adrianople, and sold for fabulous prices in the bazaars of stamboul, as the new capital was called by the turks. the agents for the sale of these things were generally the female attendants at the harem, who had free association with the bazaar keepers. sometimes these women sold directly to the individual purchasers without going to the trade places. an officer or young citizen was often inveigled into buying, and paying exorbitant prices too, on hearing that some odalisk had set longing eyes upon him, and wrought the purse or belt, the dagger-sheath or embroidered jacket, as a special evidence of her favor. many were the stories which the gallants of the city and garrison were accustomed to tell, as they displayed their purchases, about nocturnal adventures, in which they were guided only by a pair of bright eyes, and of favors received from beauties whose names, of course, prudence forbade them to mention. all the traditions of lovers, romances of moon-shadowed grottoes, and all the stories of castles with the thread at the window, that have been told from the beginning of the world, had their counterpart in those the swains of stamboul told about the sultan's earthly paradise at adrianople, or those which, in their amatory bantering, they had made to cluster about the villa of the late phranza at the new capital. an old woman, who, formerly a servant in the harem, had been given by the validé sultana, the mother of amurath, to a subaltern officer as wife, but had long been a widow, was permitted freely to enter the haremlik, and engaged as a convenient broker between those within and those without. one day morsinia, in giving her some of her handiwork for sale, held up an elegant case of silk containing several little crystals, or phials, of atar of roses. "kala-hanoum, do you know the young captain ballaban?" "ay, the knight of the golden horn?" asked the woman. "and why do they call him that?" "because," she replied, "his head glows like one, i suppose." "yes, he is the man--well! find him--tell him any story you please about my beauty." "i need not invent one; i must only tell the truth to bewitch him," replied the old dame, with real fondness and admiration. "but that will be difficult. i can invent a lie better than describe the truth, unless you help me." "well," said morsinia, "tell him as much truth about my appearance as you can, and invent the rest. tell him--let me see--that my eyes are as bright as the stars that shine above the balkans." "do they shine there more brilliantly than here where they make their toilet in the bosphorus?" asked the woman. "oh! yes," said morsinia, "for the air is clearest there of any place on the earth. tell him, too, that my teeth are as white as the snows that lie in the pass of slatiza." "where is that?" queried the messenger. "oh! it is a grotto i have heard of, that lies very high up toward the sky, where the snows are unsoiled by passing through the clouds, which, you know, always tints them. and then tell him that altogether i am as queenly as--as--well! as the wonderful elizabeth morsiney, the bride of the christian king sigismund." "elizabeth morsiney? yes, i will remember that name, if some day you will tell me her story." "that i will," said morsinia. "and tell the young officer that the odalisk who made this lovely case has dreamed of him ever since she was a child." "he cannot resist that," said the woman. "but you must sell it to no one else. and see this elegant sash of cashmere! i will give it to you to sell on your own account, hanoum, if you bring me some sure evidence that he has bought the case of perfume. and be sure to tell him that just when the sun is setting he must go somewhere alone, and look at the sun through each of the little phials, and he may see the face of her who sent them; for you know that a true lover can always see the one who sends a phial of atar of roses in the sun glints from its sides. and when you bring me evidence that he has bought it, then, good kala, you shall have the sash of cashmere." the old woman's cupidity hastened her feet upon her errand. chapter xlvi. "peace be with thee!" said the old woman, dropping a low courtesy to the officer, as he walked near the new buildings of the seraglio. "peace be unto _thee_, and the mercy of god and his blessing,[ ] good woman!" replied the soldier; but waving his hand, added kindly, "i have no need of your harem trumpery." "but see this!" said she, showing the elegant case of perfumery. "this holds the essence of the flowers of paradise." "go along, old mother! i would have no taste for it if it contained the sweat of the houris."[ ] "but this case was made especially for you, captain ballaban." "or for any other man whose purse will buy it," replied he, moving away. the woman followed closely, chattering into his deaf ears. "but, could you see her that made it, you would not decline to buy, though you gave for it half the gold you found in the coffers of the rich greeks the day your valor won the city, brave captain; and the cost of it is but a lira;[ ] and the maiden is dying of love for you." "then why does she not give it to me as a present? love asks no price," said he, just turning his head. "that she would, but for fear of offending your honor by slighting your purse," said the quick-witted woman. "well said, mother! i warrant that the beyler bey, or the noble kaikji,[ ] who made love to you never got you for nothing." "indeed, no! he paid the validé sultana ten provinces, and a brass buckle besides, to prevent her giving me to timour; who took it so hard that he would have broken his heart, but that the grief went the wrong way and cracked his legs, and so they call him timour-lenk. that was the reason he made war on the ottomans. it was all out of jealousy for me," said she, making a low and mock courtesy. "but if you could see the beautiful odalisk who made this! her form is as stately as the dome of st. sophia." "she's too big and squatty, if she's like that," laughed the officer. "her face glows in complexion like the mother of pearl," went on the enthusiastic saleswoman. "too hard of cheek!" sneered the other. "even yours, hanoum, is not so hard as mother of pearl." "a neck like alabaster----" "cold! too cold! i would as soon think of making love to a gravestone," was the officer's comment. "and such melting lips----" "yes, with blisters! i tell you, old hanoum, i'm woman proof. go away!" "and her eyes shine through her long lashes like the stars through the fir trees on the balkans." "tut! woman, you never saw the stars shine on the balkans. they do shine there, though, like the very eyes of allah. a woman with such eyes would frighten the padishah himself." kala hanoum took courage at this first evidence of interest on the part of the officer, and plied her advantage. "and her teeth are as white as the snows in the grotto of slatiza--" "the grotto of slatiza? you mean some bear's cave. but the snows are white there, whiter and purer than anywhere else on earth, except as i once saw them, so red with blood, there in the pass of slatiza. but how know you of slatiza, my good woman?" "and altogether she is as fair as the bride of sigismund of hungary," said kala, without regarding his question. "and who was she, hanoum?" asked the man, with curiosity fully aroused. "why, elizabeth morsiney, of course." the officer turned fully toward the woman, and scanned closely her features as if to discover something familiar. was there not some hint to be picked from these words? "hanoum, who told you to say that?" the woman in turn studied his face before she replied. she would learn whether the allusions had excited a pleasant interest, or roused antagonism in him. it required but a moment for her to discover that morsinia had given her some clue that the man would willingly follow, so she boldly replied: "the odalisk herself has talked to me of these things." "the odalisk! what is she like?" said he eagerly. "describe her to me." "why, i have been describing her for this half-hour; but you would not listen. so i will go off and do my next errand." the woman turned away, but, as she intended it should be, the officer was now in the attitude of the beggar. "hold, hanoum, i will buy your perfume--but tell me what she is like in plain words. is she of light hair?" "ay, as if she washed it in the sunshine and dried it in the moonlight, and as glossy as the beams of both." "think you she belonged to stamboul before the siege?" "ay, and to the great scanderbeg before that." the officer was bewildered and stood thinking, until kala interrupted him. "but you said you would buy it, captain." "did i? well, take your lira." as the woman took the piece of money she added: "and don't forget that the odalisk said she had dreamed of you since she was a child, and that at sunset if you looked through the phials you would see her face." "nonsense, woman!" "but try it, sire, and maybe the noble captain would send something to the beautiful odalisk?" "yes, when i see her in the phial i will send her myself as her slave." the man thrust the silken case into the deep pocket of his flowing vest and went away. then began a struggle in captain ballaban. since the capture of the fair girl by the altar of st. sophia, he had been unable to efface the remembrance of her. she stood before him in his dreams: sometimes just falling beneath the dagger; sometimes in the splendor which he imagined to surround her in the harem; often in mute appeal to him to save her from the nameless horrors which her cry indicated that she dreaded. when waking, his mind was often distracted by thoughts of her. the presence of the sultan lost its charm, for he had come to look upon him as her owner, and to feel himself in some way despoiled. he was losing his ambition for distant service, and found himself often loitering in the vicinity of the phranza palace. this feeling which, perhaps, is experienced by most men, at least once in life, as the spell of a fair face is thrown over them, was associated with a deeper and more serious one in captain ballaban. from the day of her capture until now he had felt almost confident of her identity with his little playmate in the mountain home. she thus linked together his earliest and later life; and, as he thought of her, he thought of the contrast in himself then and now. the things he used to muse about when a child, his feelings then, his purposes, his religious faith, all came back to him, and with a strange strength and fascination. he began to realize that, though he was an enthusiast for both the moslem belief and the service of the ottoman, yet he had become such, not in his own free choice, but by the overpowering will of others. at heart he rebelled, while he could not say that he had come to disbelieve a word of the koran, and was not willing to harbor a purpose against the sovereignty of the padishah. still he was compelled to confess to himself that, if the fair woman were indeed his old play-mate, and there was open a way by which he could release her from her captivity, he would risk so much of disloyalty to the sultan as the attempt should require. indeed, he argued to himself that, except in the mere form of it, it would not be disloyalty; for what did mahomet care for one woman more or less in his harem? and was this woman not, after all, more his property than she was that of the padishah? he had captured her; perhaps twice; and had saved her life in st. sophia, for only his hand caught her dagger. she was his! then he became fond of indulging a day dream. the sultan sometimes gave the odalisks to his favorite pashas and servants. what if this one should be given to him? he had gone so far as once to say in response to the sultan, who twitted him for being in love, that he imagined such to be the case, and only needed the choice of his majesty to locate the passion. but he did not dare to be more specific, lest he might run across some caprice of the sultan; for he felt sure that so beautiful an odalisk as his captive would not long be without the royal attention. old kala hanoum's information regarding the fair odalisk allayed the turmoil in ballaban's breast, in that it gave certainty to his former suspicions. for her words about the stars above the balkans, the snows of slatiza, and elizabeth morsiney, were not accidental. he had no doubt that the albanian odalisk was the little lady to whom he once made love in the bowers of blackberry bushes, and vowed to defend like a true knight, waving his wooden sword over the head of the goat he rode as a steed. in the midst of such thoughts and emotions, captain ballaban awoke to full self-consciousness, and said to himself---- "i am in love! but i am a fool! for a man with ambition must never be in love, except with himself. besides, this woman i love is perhaps half in my imagination; for i never yet caught a full view of her face. as for her being my little morsinia--illusion! no! this is no illusion! but what if she be the same! captain ballaban, are you going to be a soldier, or a lover? take your choice; for you can't be both, at least not an ottoman soldier and a lover of a christian girl." rubbing his hand through his red hair, as if to pull out these fantasies, he strode down to the water's edge, and, tossing a kaikji a few piasters, was in a moment darting like an arrow across the harbor;--a customary way the captain had of getting rid of any vexation. the cool evening breeze wooed the over-thoughtfulness from his brain, or he spurted it out through his muscles into the oar blades, which dropped it into the water of oblivion. he was scarcely aware that he was becoming more tranquil, when a quick cry of a boat keeper showed that he had almost run down the old tower of white marble which rises from a rocky islet, just away from the mainland on the asiatic side of the bosphorus. "kiss-koulessi, the maiden's tower, this," he muttered. "well, i have fled from the fortress of one maiden to run against that of another. fate is against me. perhaps i had better submit. why not? wasn't charis a valiant general of the old greeks, who sent him here, once on a time, to help the byzantines? well! he had a wife, the fair boiidion, the 'heifer-eyed maiden.' and here she lies beneath this tower. the world would have forgotten general charis, but for his wife damalis, whom they have remembered these two thousand years. a wife _may_ be the making of a man's fame. if the sultan would give me my pick of the odalisks i think i would venture." these thoughts were not interrupted, only supplemented, by the sun's rays, now nearly horizontal, as striking the water far up the harbor of stamboul, they poured over it and made it seem indeed a golden horn, the open end of which extended into the bosphorus. the ruddy glow tipped the dome of st. sophia as with fire; transformed the gray walls of the genoese tower at galata into a huge porphyry column, sparkling with a million crystals; and made the white marble of the maiden's tower blush like the neck of a living maiden, when kissed for the first time by the hot lips of her lover. so the captain thought: and was reminded to inspect the silken treasure he had purchased. he would look through the phials, as--who knows--he might see the face of her who sent them. if looking at the red orb of the sun, just for an instant, made his eyes see a hundred sombre suns dancing along the sky, it would not be strange if his long meditation upon a certain radiant maiden should enable him to see her, at least in one shadowy reproduction of his inner vision. he drew the silken case from his pocket. it was wrought with real skill, and worth the lira, even if it had contained nothing, and meant nothing. the little phials were held up one by one, and divided the sun's beams into prismatic hues as they passed through the twisted glass. in each was a drop or two of sweet essence, like an imprisoned soul, waiting to be released, that it might fly far and wide and distill its perfume as a secret blessing. "but this one is imperfect," muttered the captain, as he held up a phial that was nearly opaque. it was larger than the others, and contained a tightly wrapped piece of paper. "the clue!" said he, and, after a moment's hesitation, broke the phial. unwinding the paper, he read: "you are michael, son of milosch. i am morsinia, child of kabilovitsch. for the love of jesu! save me from this hell. we can communicate by this means." it was a long row that captain ballaban took that night upon the bosphorus. yet he went not far, but back and forth around the new seraglio point, scarcely out of sight of the clear-cut outline of the phranza palace, as it stood out against the sky above the ordinary dwellings of the city. the dawn began to peer over the hills back of chalcedon, and to send its scouts of ruddy light down the side of mt. olympus, when he landed. but the length of the night to him could not be measured by hours. he had lived over again ten years. he had gone through a battle which tired his soul as it had never been tired under the flashing of steel and the roar of culverin. only once before, when, as a mere child he was conquered by the terrors of the janizaries' discipline, had he suffered so intensely. yet the battle was an undecided one. he staggered up the hill from the landing to the barracks with the cry of conflict ringing through his soul. "what shall i do?" on the one side were the habit of loyalty, his oath of devotion to the padishah, all his earthly ambition which blazed with splendors just before him--for he was the favorite of both the sultan and the soldiers--and all that the education of his riper years had led him to hope for in another world. on the other side were this new passion of love which he could no longer laugh down, and the appeal of a helpless fellow creature for rescue from what he knew was injustice, cruelty and degradation;--the first personal appeal a human being had ever made to him, and he the only human being to whom she could appeal. to heed this cry of morsinia he knew would be treason to his outward and sworn loyalty. to refuse to heed it he felt would be treason to his manhood. what could he do? neither force was preponderating. the battle wavered. what did he do? what most people do in such circumstances--he temporized: said, "i will do nothing to-day." like a genuine turk he grunted to himself, "bacaloum!" "we shall see!" but though he arranged and ordered an armistice between his contending thoughts, there was no real cessation of hostilities. arguments battered against arguments. feelings of the gentler sort mined incessantly beneath those which he would have called the braver and more manly. and the latter counter-mined: loyalty against love: ambition against pity. but all the time the gentler ones were gaining strength. on their side was the advantage of a definite picture--a lovely face; of an immediate and tangible project--the rescue of an individual. the danger of the enterprise weighed nothing with him, or, at least, it was counter-balanced by the inspiriting anticipation of an adventure, an exploit:--the very hazard rather fascinating than repelling. yet he had not decided. footnotes: [ ] koran, chapter iv. "when you are saluted with a salutation, salute the person with a better salutation, or at least return the same." [ ] according to the koran the houris perspire musk. [ ] about an english pound sterling. [ ] kaikji; a common boatman. chapter xlvii. captain ballaban was summoned by the sultan. "well, comrade," said mahomet, familiarly throwing his arm about his friend, much to the disgust of the capee aga, the master of ceremonies, through whom alone it was the custom of the sultans to be approached. "well! comrade, i gave a necklace worth a thousand liras to a girl who pleased me in the harem." "happy girl, to have pleased your majesty. that was better than the necklace," replied ballaban. "think you so? let me look you through and through. think you there is nothing better in this world than to please the padishah? ah! it is worth a kingdom to hear that from a man like you, ballaban. women say it; but they can do nothing for me. they dissipate my thoughts with their pleasuring me. they make me weak. i have a mind to abolish the whole harem. but to have a man, a strong man, a man with a head to plot for empire and to marshal armies, a man with an arm like thine to make love to me! ah, that is glorious, comrade. but let me make no mistake about it. you love me? do you really think no gold, no honors, could give you so much pleasure as pleasing me? swear it! and by the throne of allah! i will swear that you shall share my empire. but to business!" dropping his voice, and in the instant becoming apparently forgetful of his enthusiasm for his friend. "we make a campaign against belgrade. i must go in person. yet scanderbeg holds out in albania. it is useless meeting him in his stronghold. you cannot fight a lion by crawling into his den. he must be trapped. work out a plan." "i have one which may be fruitful," instantly replied captain ballaban. "ah! so quick?" "no, of long hatching, sire. i made it in my first campaign in albania with your royal father. the young voivode amesa is nephew to scanderbeg. he is restless under the authority of the great general: has committed some crime which, if known, would bring him to ruin: is popular with the people of the north." "capital!" said mahomet eagerly. "i see it all. work it out! work it out! he may have anything, if only scanderbeg can be put out of the way, and the country be under our suzerainty. work it out! and the suzerain revenues shall all be yours; for by the bones of othman! there is not a province too great for you if only you can settle affairs among the arnaouts. "and now a gift! i will send you the very queen of the harem." "my thanks, padishah, but i----" began ballaban, when he was cut short by the sultan. "not a word! not a word! i know you decline to practice the softer virtues, and prefer to live like a greek monk. but you must take her. if you like her not, drown her. but you shall like her. by the dimple in the chin of ayesha! she is the most perfect woman in the empire." "but," interposed ballaban, "i am a janizary, and it is not permitted a janizary to marry." "a fig for what is permitted! when the padishah gives, he grants permission to enjoy his gifts. besides, you need not marry. you can own her; sell her if you don't like her. but you must take her." "of what nation is she? perhaps i could not understand her tongue," objected ballaban. "so much the better," said mahomet. "women are not made to talk. but this woman is an arnaout, from scanderbeg's country." captain ballaban could scarcely believe his ears. this then is morsinia! to have her, to save her without breach of loyalty! this was too much. with strangely fluttering heart he acquiesced, and his thanks were drawn from the bottom of his soul. the next day he sought kala hanoum, and sent by her to morsinia a gem enclosed in a pretty casket, with which was a note, reading,-- "it shall be so. patience for a few days, and our hearts shall be made glad." how strangely fate had planned for him! it must have been fate; for only powers supernal could have made the gift of the padishah so fitting to his heart. no chance this! his secret passion, unbreathed to any ear on earth, had been a prayer heard in heaven! ballaban was now an undoubting moslem that he found kismet on the side of his inclinations. he belonged to islâm, the holy resignation; resigned to the will of providence, since providence seemed just now to have resigned itself to his will. he was surprised at the ecstatic character his piety was taking on. he could have become a dervish: indeed his head was already whirling with the intoxication of his prospects. captain ballaban, like a good moslem, went to the mosque. he made his prayer toward the mihrab; but his eyes and thoughts wandered to the spot at the side of it, where he had saved the life of morsinia; and he thanked allah with full soul that he had been allowed to save her for himself. the padishah, the following day, bade ballaban repair to a house in the city, and be in readiness to receive the gift of heaven and of his own imperial grace. on reaching the place an elderly woman--the koulavous, an inevitable attendant upon marriages--conducted him through the selamlik and mabeyn to the haremlik of the house. the bride or slave, as he pleased to take her, rose from the divan to meet him. though her thick veil completely enveloped her person, it could not conceal her superb form and marvellous grace. his hand trembled with the agitation of his delight as he exercised the authority of a husband or master, and reverently raised the veil. he stood as one paralyzed in amazement. she was not morsinia. she was elissa! he dropped the veil. strange spirits seemed to breathe themselves in succession through his frame. first came the demon of disappointment, checking his blood, stifling him. not that any other mortal knew of his shattered hopes; but it was enough that he knew them. and with the consciousness of defeat, a horrible chagrin bit and tore his heart, as if it had been some dragon with teeth and claws. then came the demon of rage; wild rage; wanting to howl out its fury. he might have smitten the veiled form, had not the latter, overcome by her bewilderment and the scorn of him she supposed to have been a lover, already fallen fainting at his feet. then rose in ballaban's breast the demon of vengeance against the sultan. had mahomet been present he surely had felt the steel of the outraged man. only the habit of self-control and quiet review of his own passions prevented his seeking the padishah, and taking instant vengeance in his blood. then there came into him a great demon of impiety, and breathed a curse against allah himself through his lips. but finally a new spirit hissed into his ears. it was nemesis. he felt that this was the moment when a just retribution had returned upon himself. for he well knew the face that lay weeping beneath the heap of bejewelled lace and silk. it was that of the dodola, whom he had flung into the arms of the albanian voivode amesa when he was awaiting the embrace of some more princely maiden. and now the sarcasm of fate had thrown her into his arms. "allah! thou wast even with me this time," he confessed back of his clenched teeth. "but doubtless," he thought, "it was through the information i gave to the aga that this girl has been stolen away from amesa." "would that heaven rid me of her so easily!" he muttered. "yet that is easy; thanks to our moslem law, which says, 'thou mayest either retain thy wife with humanity or dismiss her with kindness.'[ ] yet i cannot dismiss her with kindness. she can not go back to the royal harem. if i dismiss her i harm her, and allah's curse will be fatal if i wrong this creature again--to say nothing of the padishah's if i throw away his gift. i must keep her. well! bacaloum! bacaloum! it is not so bad a thing after all to have a woman like that for one's slave; for a wife without one's heart is but a slave. well!" he raised the veil again from the now sitting woman. the mutually stupid gaze carried them both through several years which had passed since they had parted at amesa's castle. elissa was easily induced to tell her story. assuming that it might be already known to her new lord, she gave it correctly; and therefore it differed substantially from that she had told to morsinia. she had been but a few days in amesa's home when he discovered that she was not the person he had presumed her to be. in an outburst of rage he would have taken her life, but was led by an old priest to adopt a more merciful method of ridding himself of her. to have returned her to the village above the skadar would have filled the country with the scandal, and made amesa the laughing stock of all. she was therefore sent within the turkish lines, with the certainty of finding her way to some far-distant country. her beauty saved her from a common fate, and she was sent as a gift to the young padishah by an old general, into whose hands she had fallen. ballaban assured the woman of his protection, and also that the time would come when he would compensate her for any grief she had endured through his fault. in the meantime she was retained in the luxurious comfort of her new abode. footnote: [ ] koran, chap. ii. chapter xlviii. captain ballaban was almost constantly engaged at the new seraglio. it was being constructed not only with an eye to its imposing appearance from without and its beauty within, such as befitted both its splendid site between the waters and the splendor of the monarch whose palace it was to be; but also with a view to its easy defence in case of assault. upon the young officer devolved the duty of scrutinizing every line and layer that went into the various structures. he was especially interested in the side entrances, and communications between the various departments of the seraglio. he gave orders for a change to be made in the line of a partition and corridor, and also for a slight variation in the position of a gateway in the walls dividing the mabeyn[ ] court from that of the haremlik. just why these changes were made, perhaps the architects themselves could not have told; nor were they interested to enquire, supposing that they were made at the royal will. ballaban was disposed to indulge a little his own fancy. if there was to be a broad entrance for public display, and then a narrow passage for the sultan only, why not have a way through which he could imagine a fair odalisk fleeing from insult and torture into the arms of--himself? but ballaban's face grew pale as he watched the completion of a sluice way leading from a little chamber, down through the sea wall, to meet the rapid current of the bosphorus. he remembered the declaration of the padishah, that, if ever an odalisk were unfaithful to him, she should be sewn into a bag, together with a cat and a snake, and drowned in marmora.[ ] in the meantime old kala hanoum was amazed at the number of articles of morsinia's handiwork she was able to induce the young captain to purchase. indeed, he never refused. and quite frequently she was the bearer of gifts, generally confections, sometimes little rolls of silk suitable for embroidery with colored threads or beads, accompanied by the name of some fellow officer of the janizaries from whom apparently an order for work was given; the captain acting as an agent in a sort of co-partnership with kala. of course this was only secret mail service between ballaban and the odalisk. if kala suspected it, her commissions were so largely remunerative that she silenced the thought of any thing but legitimate business. ballaban devised plans for her escape which morsinia found it impracticable to execute from her side of the harem wall; and her shrewdest suggestions were pronounced equally unsafe by the strategist without. ballaban had caught glimpses of morsinia while loitering among the trees at the upper end of the golden horn, by the sweet waters, where the ladies of the harem were taken by the eunuchs on almost weekly excursions. he had proposed to have in readiness two horses, that, if she should break from the attendants, they might flee together. but before this could be accomplished, the excursions were discontinued, as the attention of all was turned to a new pleasure. the grand haremlik was at length completed. perhaps no place on earth was so suggestive of indolent and sensual pleasure as this. there were luxurious divans, multiplying mirrors, baths of tempered water, fountains in which perfumes could be scattered with the spray, broad spaces for the dance, half hidden alcoves for the indulgence in that which shamed the more public eye, and gardens in which araby competed with africa in the display of exotic fruits and flowers. a day was set for the reception of the grand harem from adrianople--which contained nearly a thousand of the most beautiful women in the world--into this new paradise. the kislar aga had arranged a pageant of especial magnificence, which could be witnessed by the people at a distance. two score barges, elegantly decorated, rowed by eunuchs, their decks covered with divans, were to receive the odalisks from adrianople at the extreme inner point of the seraglio water front on the golden horn. the validé sultana's barge was to lead the procession, which should float to the cadences of music far out into the harbor. at the same time, the sultan in his kaik, and the women of the temporary haremlik, each propelling a light skiff decorated with flags and streamers, were to move from the extreme outer point of the seraglio grounds, until the two fleets should meet, when, amid salvos of artillery from the shores, the odalisks with the sultan were to turn about and lead their sisters to the water gate of the haremlik. orders were given forbidding the people to appear upon the water, or upon the shores within distance to see distinctly the faces of the ladies of the harem. every evening at sundown a patrol of eunuchs made a cordon of boats a few hundred yards from the shore, within which, screened by distance from the eyes of common men, the odalisks went into training for the great regatta. the padishah, sitting in his barge, encouraged their rivalry by gifts for dexterity in managing the little boats, for picturesqueness of dress and for grace of movement, as with bared arms and streaming tresses, they propelled the kaiks. morsinia found herself one of the most dexterous in handling the oars. the free life of her childhood on the balkans and among the peasants of upper albania, had developed muscle which this new exercise soon brought into unusual efficiency. she observed that the attendant eunuchs were deficient in this kind of strength, and had no doubt that, with her own light weight, she could drive the almost imponderable kaik swifter than any of them. the young egyptian woman was her only competitor for the honor of leading the fleet on the day of the regatta. to add to the interest of the training, mahomet ordered that the two should race for the honor of being high admiral of the harem fleet; and one evening announced that the competitive trial should take place the next afternoon. the course was fixed for a half mile, just inside of seraglio point, where the waters of the harbor are still, unvexed by the rapid current which pours along the channel of the bosphorus. the flag-boat was to be anchored almost at the meeting of the inner and outer waters. that night morsinia wrote a note containing these words-- "about dusk just below the seven towers watch for kaik. morsinia." kala hanoum was commissioned early the following morning to deliver a pretty little sash, wrought with stars and crescents, to captain ballaban. morsinia was careful to show kala the scarf, and dilate upon the peculiar beauty of the work until the woman's curiosity should be fully satisfied; thus making sure that she would not be tempted to inspect it for herself. she then wrapped the note carefully within the scarf, and tied it strongly with a silken cord. old kala had a busy day before her, with a dozen other commissions to discharge. but fortune favored her in the early discovery of the well known shape of the captain in ordinary citizen's dress, as he was engaged in eager conversation with the greek monk, gennadius, whom the sultan had allowed to superintend the worship of the christians still resident in the city. indeed mahomet was wise enough to even pension some of the greek clergy to keep up the establishment of their faith; for he feared to antagonize the millions in the provinces of greece who could not be persuaded to embrace islam; and was content to exact from them only the recognition of his secular supremacy. kala hanoum had too much reverence in her nature to interrupt a couple of such worthies; so she followed a little way behind them. they came to the gate-way--a mere hole in the wall--which led to what was known as the hermit's cell, the abode of gennadius during the siege. the spiritual pride of the monk had prevented his exchanging this for a more commodious residence into which the sultan would have put him. he said he only wanted a place large enough to weep in, now that the people of the lord were in captivity. the monk had entered the little gateway, and his companion was following, when kala's instinct for business got the better of her reverence; and, darting forward, she thrust the little roll into his hand just as he was stooping to enter the gate, not even glancing at his face. she said in low voice, not caring to be overheard by the monk: "a part of your purchase yesterday, sire, which you have forgotten." she waited for no reply, but trotted off, muttering to herself: "that's done, now for old ibrahim the jew." the contrast between morsinia and the egyptian as they presented themselves for the contest, afforded a capital study in racial physique. the latter was rather under size, with scarcely more of womanly development than a boy. her face was almost copper colored; her hair jet and short. the former was tall, with femininity stamped upon the contour of bust and limb; her face pale, even beneath the mass of her light locks. the kaiks were of thinnest wood that could be held together by the web-like cross bracing, and seemed scarcely to break the surface of the water when the odalisks stepped into them. morsinia had brought a feridjé of common sort; saying to the eunuch, whose attention it attracted, that yesterday she was quite chilled after rowing, and to day had taken this with her by way of precaution. she might have found something more beautiful had she thought in time; but it would be dark when they returned. besides, it would be a capital brace for her feet; the crossbar arranged for that purpose being rather too far away from the seat. so saying she tossed it into the bottom of the kaik before the officious eunuch could provide a better substitute. the padishah's bugle sounded the call. it rang over the waters, evoking echoes from the triple shore of stamboul, galata and skutari, which died away in the distant billows of marmora. as it was to be the last evening before the pageant of the grand reception, the time was occupied in making final arrangements for the order in which the boats should move; so that it was growing dark when the padishah reminded the chief marshal that they must have the race for the admiral's badge. katub, a fat and indolent eunuch, was ordered to moor his kaik, for the stake boat, as far out toward the swift current as safety would permit. the two competitors darted to the side of mahomet's barge. from a long staff, just high enough above the water to be reached by the hand, hung a tiny streamer of silk, the broad field of which was dotted with pearls. this was to be the possession of the fair rower who, rounding the stake boat first, could return and seize it. the sultan threw a kiss to the fair nymphs as a signal for the start. myriads of liquid pearls, surpassing in beauty those upon the streamer, dropped from the oar blades, and strewed the smooth surface; or were transformed into diamonds as they sunk swirling into the broken water. the spray rose from the sharp prows in sheafs, golden as those of grain, in the ruddy reflection of the western sky. each graceful kaik, and the more graceful form that moved it, almost created the illusion of a single creature; some happy denizen of another world disporting itself for the luring of mortals in this. the boats kept close company. the egyptian was expending her full strength, but her companion, with longer and fewer strokes, was apparently reserving hers. they neared the stake. the egyptian, having the inside, began to round it; but the albanian kept on, now with rapid and strong strokes. the spectators were amazed at her tactics. "she is making too wide a sweep," said the sultan. "she does not seem inclined to turn at all," observed the kislar aga. "she will strike the current if she turn not soon," rejoined mahomet excitedly. the prow of her kaik turned off westward. "she is in the stream!" cried several. "she will be overturned!" but on sped the kaik, heading full down the current, which, catching it like some friendly sprite from beneath, bore it quickly out of sight around the seraglio point; and on--on into a thick mist which was rolling up, as if sent of heaven to meet it, from the broad expanse of the sea. "an escape!" cried the sultan. "after her every one of you black devils!" the eunuchs wasted several precious moments in getting the command through their heads, and, even when they started, it was evident that their muscles were too flaccid, their spines too limp, and their wind not full enough to overhaul the flying skiff of the albanian. "to shore! to horse!" cried the raging monarch. a quarter of an hour later, horsemen were clattering down the stony street along the water front of marmora, pausing now and then to stare out into the sea mist, dashing on, stopping and staring, and on again. the foremost to reach the castle of the seven towers left orders to scour the shore, and to set patrol to prevent any one landing. some were ordered to dart across to the islands. within an hour from the escape every inch of shore, and the great water course opposite the city, were under complete surveillance. just before this was accomplished a man arrived at the water's edge, close to the south side of the great wall of which the castle of seven towers was the northern flank. he held two horses, saddled and bagged, as if for a distant journey. a second man appeared a moment later, who came up from a clump of bushes a little way below. "in good time, marcus!" said the new comer, who stooped close to the water and listened, putting his hand to his ear so as to exclude all sounds except such as should come from the sea above. "listen! an oar stroke! yes! keep everything tight, marcus." darting into the copse, in a moment more the man was gliding in a kaik, with a noiseless stroke, out in the direction of the oar splash of the approaching boat. nearer and nearer it came. the night and the mist prevented its being seen. the man moved close to its line. it was a light kaik, he knew from the almost noiseless ripple of the water as the sharp prow cut it. the man gave a slight whistle, when the stroke of the invisible boat ceased, and the ripple at its prow died away. "morsinia!" "ay, thank heaven!" came the response. "speak not now, but follow!" and he led the way cautiously toward the little beach where the horses were heard stamping. they were several rods off, piloting themselves by the sound. "hark!" said the man, stopping the boats. hoofs were heard approaching, and voices-- "she might have put across to the princess island," said one. "nonsense!" was the reply. "she would only imprison herself by that--more likely she has gone clean across to chalcedon. but i hold that she has played fox, and turned on her trail. ten liras to one that she is by this time in galata with some of the genoese giaours. if so, she will try to escape in a galley; but that can be prevented: for the padishah will overhaul every craft that sails out until he finds her. but hoot, man! what have we here? two horses! a woman's baggage! she has an accomplice! an elopement! the horses are tied. the runaway couple haven't arrived yet. dismount, men! we will lie in wait along the shore here. yes, let their two horses stand there to draw them to the spot by their stamping. send ours out of hearing. now every man to his place! silence!" "back! back! we are pursued on land," said the man in the boat to morsinia, and both boats pushed noiselessly out again from the shore. "i had prepared for this, morsinia. you must come into my boat; we will row below for a mile, where we can arrange it at the shore." quietly they shot down in the lessening current, until they turned into a little cove made by a projecting rock. as lightly as a fawn the girl leaped to the beach. her companion was by her side in an instant. she drew back, and gave no return to his warm embrace, but said heartily: "thank heaven, and you, michael!" "michael?" exclaimed the man. "indeed i do not wonder that you think me a spirit, and call me by the name of my dead brother. but this shall assure you that i am constantine, and in the flesh," cried he, as he pressed a kiss upon her lips. morsinia was dazed. she tried to scan his face. she fell as one lifeless into his arms. he seated himself on the rock and held her to his heart. for a while neither could speak. "is it real?" said she at length, raising her head and feeling his face with her hand. "but how"---- voices were heard shouting over the water. "we must be gone," said constantine. the excitement of her discovery that her lover was still living, and her bewilderment at his appearance instead of michael, were too much for morsinia. constantine carried the exhausted girl into his boat, which was larger than hers. towing her little kaik out some distance he tipped it bottom upwards, and let it drift away. "that will stop the hounds," muttered he. "they will think you have been overturned." with tremendous, but scarcely audible, strokes he ploughed away westward. it was not until far from all noise of the pursuers that he paused. footnotes: [ ] the mabeyn lies between the selamlik (general reception room for men) and the haremlik; and is the living apartment for men. [ ] the sluice which was supposed to have been used for this purpose is still seen at old seraglio point. chapter xlix. imminent as was the danger still, the curiosity of both at the strangeness of the providence which had brought them back to each other, as from the dead, was such that they must talk; and the freshness of the newly-kindled love stole many a moment for endearing embrace. indeed an hour passed, and the night might have flown while they loitered, were it not that the rising wind brought a distant sound which awakened them to the remembrance that they were still fugitives. constantine at length insisted that his companion should lie upon the bottom of the boat, and take needed rest. "if i had now my feridjé!" said she. "i have provided for that," replied constantine. "yours would be recognized. i have one belonging to the common women, which will be better." in addition to the feridjé, the foresight of constantine had laid in warm wraps and a store of provisions. these were packed in bundles that they might be carried conveniently on horses, in the hand, or in the boat, as necessity should compel. "i cannot rest," said morsinia, "when there is so much to say and hear." "but you must lie down. i will tell you my story; then you can tell me yours." "but can we not stop?" "no. it will not be safe to do so yet." "i have learned to trust your guidance as well as your love," said she, and reclined in the stern of the boat. the moon rose near to midnight. the fog illumined by it made them clearly visible to each other, while it shut out the possibility of their being seen by any from a distance. "it is the blessing of jesu upon us," said morsinia. "the same as when he stood upon the little lake in galilee, like a form of light, and said, 'be not afraid.'" constantine gave his story in hasty sentences and detached portions, breaking it by pauses in which he listened for pursuers, or gave his whole strength to the oars, or, more frequently, did nothing but gaze at his companion: more than once reaching out his hand to touch her, and see if she were not an apparition. he told of his escape from the turks, his arrest as a lunatic and the scene before the sultan, his return to constantinople after its capture, and the apparent evidence he there had from the old beggar, of morsinia's death: with all of which the reader is familiar. he also related how he had gone to albania. the report of morsinia's death had caused the greatest grief to kabilovitsch, and thrown general castriot into such a rage that he found easement for it in a special raid upon the turkish camp; which raid was remembered, and was still spoken of by the soldiers, as the "call of the maiden." for as castriot returned from fearful slaughter, in which he had completely riddled the enemy's quarters, captured their commander and compelled them to break up the campaign, the general was overheard to say, "the maiden's spirit called us and we have answered." without knowing the meaning of these words the soldiers probably assumed that they were a reference to the holy virgin mary, whose blessing castriot had invoked upon the enterprise. after that sultan mahomet sent a special embassage and proposal of peace to albania. in the royal letter he stated, "she whom the emperor of the greeks was unable to keep for scanderbeg is now in the custody of the royal harem, safe and inviolate; to be delivered into scanderbeg's hand as a pledge of a treaty by which scanderbeg shall agree to cease from further depredations and invasion of macedonia, and to submit to hold his kingdom in fief to the ottoman throne." the letter ended with a boastful reference to the sultan's conquest of constantinople, caramania and other countries, and the threat of invading albania with a host so great as to cover all its territory with the shadow of the camps. castriot's reply, when known, filled the dibrians and epirots with greatest enthusiasm. it closed with the words,-- "what if you have subjugated greece, and put into servitude them of asia! these are no examples for the free hearts of albania!"[ ] the news contained in mahomet's missive led castriot to allow constantine to go to constantinople, that he might discover, if possible, whether morsinia was really living, and was the person referred to by the sultan. on reaching the city, constantine had sought out the monk gennadius, with whom he had been often thrown before and during the siege. from him he learned nothing of morsinia except the old story of her self-sacrifice by the side of the altar;--which story had become so adorned with many additions in passing from mouth to mouth, that the "fair saint of albania" was likely to be enrolled upon the calendar of the holy martyrs. constantine was returning with the monk from the church of baloukli, where they had gone to see the perpetuated miracle of the fishes which leaped from the pan on hearing of the capture of the city, and which are still, with one side black with the frying, swimming in the tank of holy water. he had just reached the little gate of the monk's lodging when morsinia's message was put into his hand by a little old woman. "but how did you know of my arrival in constantinople?" constantine asked, as he concluded his account. the question led to morsinia's story, and the revelation that his brother michael was still living, an officer of the sultan, as like to constantine as one eye to the other; their mistaken identity by kala hanoum having led to the present happy denouement. the mutual narratives of the past grew into plans for the future, the chief part of which related to the restoration of michael from the service of the moslem. while they talked, the day broke over the asiatic coast. the faint glow of light rapidly changed into bars of gold, which were transformed into those of silver, and melted again into a broad sheen of orange and purple tints. but for the shadowed slopes of the eastern shore that lay between the water and the sky, this would have made marmora like an infinite sea of glory. but there was a fairer sight before the eyes of constantine; one more suggestive of the heavenly. it was the face of his beloved, now first clearly seen. it seemed to him that she could not have been more enchanting if he had discovered her by the "river of the water of life" in the golden city, where only he had hoped ever again to gaze upon her. footnote: [ ] according to knowles, this was a part of scanderbeg's reply to amurath ii. chapter l. the fugitives landed a good score of miles from stamboul, on the northern shore of marmora, and struck the highway which runs westward, following the coast line to salonika, where it divides, bending south into greece, and branching north through macedonia. the fugitives followed the latter highway. the country through which they passed was at the time conquered by the moslem, but was dotted over with the settlements of the adherents to the old faith, who kept the watchfires of hope still burning in their hearts, though they were extinguished on the mountains. it was by this route that constantine had gone to stamboul. he was therefore familiar, not only with the way, but with the people; and easily secured from them concealment when necessary, and help along the journey. his belt had been well filled with gold by castriot, so that two fleet horses and all provisions were readily supplied. their journey was saddened by their solicitude for the fate of albania. before constantine had left that country, moses goleme, wearied with the incessant sacrifices he was compelled to make, and discouraged by what he deemed the impossibility of longer holding out against the turks, had quarreled with castriot, and thrown off his allegiance. he had even been induced by mahomet's pledge of liberty to albania--if only castriot were overthrown--to enter the service of the enemy. the wily sultan had placed him in command of an invading army, with which, however, he had returned to his country only to meet an overwhelming defeat at the hands of the great captain, and to flee in disgrace to constantinople. this swift vengeance administered by the patriots did not entirely crush the dissatisfaction among the people. their fields were wasted by the long war; for half a generation had passed since it began. only the personal magnetism of their chief held the factions to their doubtful loyalty. after several weeks' journeying, our fugitives reached the camp of castriot. it little resembled the gorgeous canvas cities of the turks they had passed. the overspreading trees were, in many instances, the only shelter of voivodes and princely leaders, the story of whose exploits floated as an enchantment to the lovers of the heroic in all lands. but the simple welcome they received from the true hearts of their countrymen was more to morsinia and constantine than any stately reception could have been. kabilovitsch's joy was boundless. the venerable man had greatly failed, worn by outward toil, and more by his inward grief. castriot had grown prematurely old. his hair was whitened; his eyes more deeply sunken beneath the massive brows; his shoulders a little bowed. yet there was no sign of decrepitude in face or limb. his aspect was sterner, and even stronger, as if knit with the iron threads of desperation. as kabilovitsch, whom the wanderers had first sought upon their arrival, led them to castriot, the general gazed upon them silently for a little. years, with their strange memories, seemed to flit, one after another, across his scarred face. taking morsinia's hands in his, he stood looking down into her blue eyes, just as he had done when years ago, he bade her farewell. then he kissed her forehead as he said: "thank heaven! there is not yet a wrinkle on that fair brow. but i wronged you, my child, in sending you among strangers. can you forgive the blunder of my judgment? it was my heart that led me wrong." "i have nothing to forgive thee," replied morsinia. "though i have suffered, to gaze again into thy face, sire, takes away even the memory of it all. i shall be fully blessed if now i can remove some of those care marks from thy brow." "your return takes away from me twice as many years as those you have been absent, and i shall be young again now--as young almost as kabilovitsch," added he, with a kindly glance at the old veteran, whose battered dignity had given place to an almost childish delight. the scene within the tent was interrupted by a noise without. a crowd of soldiers had gathered, and were gazing from a respectful distance at a strange-looking man: "a man of heaviness and eaten up with cares." he was clad in the coarsest garments; his beard untrimmed; hatless; a rope about his neck. as scanderbeg came out of the tent, the man threw himself at his feet, and cried, as he bowed his head upon the ground: "strike, sire! i have sold my country. i have returned to die under the sword of my true chief, rather than live with the blessing of his enemies. the curse on my soul is greater than i could bear, with all the splendid rewards of my treason. take out the curse with my blood! strike, sire! strike!" he was moses goleme. castriot stood with folded arms and looked upon the prostrate man. his lips trembled, and then were swollen, as was noted of them when his soul was fired with the battle rage. then every muscle of his face quivered as if touched by some sharp pain. then came a look of sorrow and pity. his broad bosom heaved with the deep-drawn breath as he spoke. "moses goleme, rise! your place is at no man's feet. for twenty years you watched by albania, while i forgot my fatherland. your name has been the rallying cry of the patriot; your words the wisdom of our council; your arm my strength. brave man! take castriot's sword, and wear it again until your own heart tells you that your honor has been redeemed. rise!" untying the rope from the miserable man's neck, he flung it far off, and cried,-- "so, away with whatever disgraces the noble goleme! my curse on him who taunts thee for the past! let that be as a hideous dream to be forgotten. for well i know, brave comrade, that thy heart slept when thou wast away. but it wakes again. thou art thy true self once more!" the broken-hearted man replied, scarcely raising his eyes as he spoke: "my hands are not worthy to touch the sword of castriot. let me cleanse them with patriot service. tell me, sire, some desperate adventure, where, since thou wilt not slay me, i may give my wretched life for my country." "no, moses, you shall keep your life for albania. i know well the strength of your temptation. my service is too much for any man. were it not that i am sustained by some strange invisible spirit, i too would have yielded long ago. but enough! the old command awaits thee, moses." the man looked upon castriot with grateful amazement. but he could not speak, and turned away. at first he was received sullenly by the soldiers; but when the story of castriot's magnanimity was repeated, the camps rang with the cry, "welcome, goleme!" that his restoration might be honored, a grand raid through the turkish lines was arranged for the next night. the watch cry was, "by the beard of moses!" and many a veteran then wielded his sword with a courage and strength he had not felt for years. even old kabilovitsch, whose failing vigor had long excused him from such expeditions, insisted upon joining in this. constantine then rewhetted his steel for valiant deeds to come. and, as the day after the fight dawned, moses goleme led back the band of victors, laden with spoil. as he appeared, to make his report to the chief, his face was flushed with the old look; and, grasping the hand of castriot, he raised it to his lips and simply said: "i thank thee, sire!" and retired. chapter li. captain ballaban was among the first to learn of the personality of the odalisk who had escaped at the time of the race. his first thought was to aid her in eluding pursuit, presuming that she had gone alone and without accomplice. but when the horses were discovered at the seven towers, he gave way to a fit of jealousy. in his mind he accused morsinia of having made him her dupe; for, notwithstanding his assurances of aid, she had evidently made a confidant of another. his better disposition, however, soon led him to believe that she had been spirited away through some plan devised in the brain of scanderbeg. while he rejoiced for her, he was disconsolate for himself; and determined that, upon his return to the war in albania, to which field he knew it was the purpose of the padishah to transfer him, he would discover the truth regarding her. he had learned from her secret missives, which kala hanoum had brought him before the flight, of the death of his father milosch and his mother helena, and the supposed death of his brother constantine. there were, then, no ties of kinship, and but this one tie of affection to morsinia, to divide his allegiance to the padishah. and morsinia had faded again from reality, if not into his mere dream, at least into the vaguest hope. his ardent soul found relief only by plunging into the excitement of the military service. mahomet had not exhausted his favors to ballaban by the gift of the albanian venus, elissa. summoning him one day he repeated his purpose of designating him as the chief aga of the janizaries, the old chief having been slain in a recent engagement. ballaban remonstrated, as once before, against this interference with the order of the corps, in which the choice of chief aga was left to the vote of the soldiers themselves. mahomet replied angrily--"i tell you, ballaban, my will shall now be supreme over every branch of my service. my fathers felt the independence of the janizaries to be a menace to their thrones. their power shall be curbed to my hand, or the whole order shall be abolished." "beware!" replied ballaban. "you know not the alertness of the lion whose lair you would invade. i will serve my padishah with my life in all other ways, but my vows forbid my treachery to my corps. strike off my head, if you will, but i cannot be aga, except by the sovereign consent of my brothers." "i shall not take off your head, comrade," replied mahomet. "i need what is in it too much, though it belongs to a young rebel. but begone! i shall work my plans without asking your advice in the matter." a firman was issued by which the padishah claimed the supreme power of appointing to command in all grades of the military service. within an hour after its proclamation, the janizaries were in open defiance of the sovereign. before their movements could be anticipated, the great court in front of the selamlik in the seraglio was filled with the enraged soldiery. that sign of terror which had blanched the faces of former padishahs--the inverted soup-kettle--was planted before the very doors of the palace, and the sultan was a prisoner within. "recall the firman! long live the yeni-tscheri!" rang among the seraglio walls, and was echoed over the city. the sultan not appearing, there rose another cry, at first only a murmur, but at length pouring from thousands of hoarse throats,-- "down with mahomet! live the yeni-tscheri!" still the sultan made no response. there was a hurried consultation among the leaders of the insurgents. then a rapid movement throughout the crowd. for a moment it seemed as if they had turned every man against his fellow. but mahomet's experienced eye, as he watched from the latticed window, saw that the swarm of men was only taking shape. the mob was transformed into companies. between the ranks passed men, as if they rose out of the ground; some dragging cannon; some bearing scaling ladders. mahomet appeared upon the platform, dressed in full armor. he raised his sword, when silence fell upon the multitude. "i am your padishah." "long live mahomet!" was the cry. "do i not command every faithful ottoman? who will follow where mahomet leads?" "all! all!" rang the response. "then reverse the kettle!" commanded he, his face lit with the assumption of victory. "reverse the firman!" was the answer. "never!" cried the monarch, infuriated with this unexpected challenge of his authority. the janizaries retreated a few steps from the platform. the padishah assumed that they were awed by his determination, and smiled in his triumph. but his face was as quickly shaded with astonishment; for the movement of the insurgents was only to allow the cannon to be advanced. the sagacity of the monarch never forsook him. not even the wildness of passion could long lead him beyond the suggestion of policy. raising his hand for silence, he again spoke. "we are misunderstanding each other, my brave yeni-tscheri. if you have grievance let your agas present it, for the padishah shall be the father of his people, and the yeni-tscheri are the eldest born of his children." the sultan withdrew. eight agas held a hurried consultation, and presented themselves to the sovereign to offer him absolute and unquestioning obedience upon the condition of their retaining as absolute and unquestioned self-government within the corps. while they were in consultation, captain ballaban appeared among the troops. he waved his hand to address them. "he is bought by the padishah. we must not hear him," cried one and another. "my brothers!" said the captain, having after a few moments gained their attention. "i love the padishah. but i adore that royal hand chiefly because, beyond that of any of the heirs of othman, it has already bestowed favor upon our corps. but our order is sacred. he may command to the field, and in the field, but it must be from without. we must choose our own aga as of old." "long live ballaban!" rose from every side. the speaker broke into a rhapsodic narration of the glories of the corps, interwoven with the recital of the exploits of the padishah, during which he was interrupted by cheer after cheer, mingled with the cry of "ballaban! ballaban forever!" the sultan, hearing the shout, shrewdly seized upon the opportunity it suggested, and leaving the agas, rushed to the platform. he shouted-- "allah be praised! allah has given one mind to the padishah and to his faithful yeni-tscheri. ballaban forever! yes, take him! take him for your aga! the will of the corps and the will of the sovereign are one, for it is the will of allah that sways us all!" the soldiers, caught by the enthusiasm of the instant, repeated the shout, drowning the voices of the few who were clear-headed enough to remember that the firman had not been withdrawn. "ballaban! long live ballaban aga! long live mahomet padishah!" the agas appeared, but were impotent to assert their dissent. as well might they have attempted to howl down a hurricane as to make themselves heard in the confusion. indeed, their presence upon the platform was regarded by the corps as their endorsement of the padishah's desire, and served to stimulate the enthusiasm that broke out in redoubled applause. mahomet followed up his advantage, and formally confirmed the apparent election by announcing-- "a donative! a double pay to every one of the yeni-tscheri! and the padishah's fifth of the spoil shall be divided to the host!" the multitude were wild with delight. the inverted soup-kettle was turned over, and swung by its handle from the top of the staff; following which, the crowd poured out from the court.[ ] within a few days ballaban, as chief aga, led his corps toward albania. chapter lii. after the defeat of moses as a turkish leader, and his return to his patriotic allegiance, there was a lull in active hostilities between the two powers. amesa, like other of the prominent voivodes in scanderbeg's army, took the occasion offered to look after his own estates. he had added somewhat to his local importance by marrying the daughter of a neighboring land-owner. but neither conjugal delights, nor the additional acres his marriage brought him, covered his ambition. his envy of castriot had deepened into inveterate hatred. the voivode sat alone in the great dining hall of his castle. it was late in the night. as the blazing logs at one end of the room cast alternately their glare and shadows around, the rude furniture seemed to be thrown into a witching dance. helmets and corselets gleamed bravely from their pegs, suggesting that they were animated by heroic souls. the great bear-skin, with its enormous head, lying at the voivode's feet, crouched in readiness to receive the lunge of the boar's tusks which threatened it from the corner. pikes, spears, bows and broad-mouthed arquebuses were ranged about, as if to defend their owner, should any demon inspire these lifeless forms for sudden assault upon him. amesa had been sitting upon a low seat between the fire and a half-drained tankard of home-brewed liquor, his brows knit with the concentration of his thoughts. a slight sound without arrested his attention. "drakul is late, but is coming at last. if only he has brought me the red forelock of that fellow who used to be always crossing my track, and has now come back to albania!" he said, in a tone of musing, but intended to be heard by the delinquent as the great oaken door creaked behind him. raising his eyes, but not turning his head to look, amesa changed his soliloquy into a volley of oaths at the comer. "i thought your name-sake, drakul, had run off with you, you lazy imp.[ ] what kept you?" "a long journey," was the reply. amesa started to his feet, for the voice was not that of drakul. he faced one whose appearance was not the less startling because it was familiar. "i have brought the red forelock myself," said the visitor. amesa stared stupidly an instant, then reached toward his weapon lying upon the table near. "stop!" said the man, laying the flat side of his sword across the voivode's arm before he could grasp his yataghan. "how dare you intrude yourself unbidden here!" cried the enraged amesa. "it required no daring," was the cool reply, "for i am the stronger." "help! help!" shouted the voivode, as he realized that he would not be permitted to reach his weapon. the door swung, and a band of strange men stood in the opening. "i feared, noble amesa," said the intruder, "that i should not be a welcome guest, and so brought with me a party of friends to help me to good cheer while under your roof. you need not disturb your servants to help you, for, if they should hear, they could not obey, as they are all safely guarded in their quarters. if they should come out they might be harmed. let them rest. retire, men! you recognize me, lord amesa?" "ay. you are arnaud's whelp," sneered the entrapped man. "more gentle words would befit the courtesy of my host," was the quiet reply. "but you are as much mistaken as when you took the simple witted elissa on my commendation. do not respond, sire! in your heat you might say that which pride would prevent your recalling. i am a moslem soldier, and you are my prisoner; as secure as if you were in constantinople." the visitor threw off the albanian cape, and revealed the elegantly wrought jacket of the janizary aga. "and what would you have of me? is there nothing that can satisfy you less than my life?" asked amesa. "my noble amesa," said ballaban aga, taking a seat and motioning the voivode to another. "years ago i gave you my word in honor that i would serve you against scanderbeg. i have come to redeem that pledge, and you must help me." "how can that be, if you are an officer of the moslems?" asked amesa, taking the seat, and adopting the low tone of the other; for these words had excited in him all his cupidity, and stirred his natural secretiveness and habit of sinister dealing. his eyes ceased to glare like a tiger's when at bay; they shone now like a snake's. "amesa must enter the service of the padishah." "impossible!" cried he; but in a tone that indicated, not indignant rejection of the proposition; rather doubt of its practicability. "but first you must raise here in albania the standard of revolt against scanderbeg, claiming the title of king of epirus and the dibrias for yourself. scanderbeg's sword will, of course, compel the next step--your safety in the turkish camp. the padishah will then become your patron, offering to withdraw his armies and restore the ancient liberties of the country, with the solitary limitation that you shall acknowledge the suzerainty of the sultan. the revenues you may collect shall remain in your possession for the strengthening of your local power. the defection of moses goleme well nigh destroyed the leadership of scanderbeg--yours will complete the work. yet it will not be defection; rather, as moses goleme regarded it, the truest service of your country, because the only service that is practicable." "but i cannot thus break with the patriot leaders," said amesa, apparently having felt a real touch of honor. "it must be," replied the aga. "you cannot longer remain as you are, even if you would. you, sire, have been guilty of some great crime. nay, do not deny it! nor need you take time to give expression to any wrath you may feel on being plainly accused of it," continued ballaban, silencing amesa more effectively by the straight look into his eyes than by his words. "my moments here are too few to talk about the matter, and you should have exhausted any feeling you may have had in private penitence heretofore, rather than reserve it until another person lays it to your charge. but the point is this:--scanderbeg is aware of your crime, and awaits only the opportune moment to punish you as it deserves." "how do you know that?" said amesa, the bright gleam of his eye changing to a stony stare, as the color failed from his face, and he leaned back in ghastly consternation. "it is enough that i know it. the janizaries have not roamed these albanian hills for twelve years without finding out the secrets of the country. the holes in the ground are our ears, and the very owls spy for us through the dark. but enough of words. sign this, and set to it your seal!" ballaban presented a parchment, offering formally, in the name of the sultan, the government of albania to amesa, on the condition set forth above. "i would consider the"--began amesa; but he was cut short by ballaban-- "no! sign instantly! i have done for you all the considering that is necessary, and must be gone." "but," began amesa again, "so important a matter--" "sign instantly!" repeated ballaban; and, pointing to the door where the soldiers stood waiting their orders--"or neither amesa nor his castle will exist until the day breaks." the baffled man took from a niche in the wall a horn of thickened ink, and, with the wooden pen, made his signature, and pressed the ancient seal of the de streeses against the ball of softened wax attached to it. "this will serve to keep you true: for if by the next fulness of the moon amesa's standard be not raised against scanderbeg's, this, as evidence of your treason, shall be read in all your albanian camps," said ballaban, placing the document in his bosom. "and should you need to confer with your new friends, your faithful drakul may inquire at our lines for ballaban badera, aga of the janizaries." with a low salâm he withdrew. a few muffled orders, a shuffling of feet, and the castle was as quiet as the stars that looked down upon it. footnotes: [ ] the firman of sultan mahomet was never revoked, and from his time until the extinction of the order of janizaries by sultan mahmoud, in , the padishah always appointed the chief aga. [ ] the word drakul signifies in servian "the devil." chapter liii. the martial pride of the ottoman never made a more imposing demonstration than when his armies deployed upon the plain of pharsalia[ ] in thessaly, and threatened the southern frontier of albania. nor had jove, who, according to the mythologic conception, held his court upon the summit of the not distant olympus--looked down upon such a display of earthly power since, fifteen centuries before, the armies of pompey and cæsar there contended for the domination of the roman world. for mahomet ii. had sworn his mightiest oath, that, by one blow, he would now sweep all the arnaout rebels into the sea; and that the waves of the adriatic over against italy, and those of the mediterranean which washed the greek peninsula, and the euxine that stayed the steps of the muscovite, should sing with their confluent waves the glories of the european empire of the ottoman which lay between them. the menace to scanderbeg's domain was not chiefly in the numbers of men whom the redoubtable isaac pasha now commanded in the name of the sultan; but in the fact that the mighty host was accompanied by amesa, the new "king of albania." the defection of the voivode had sent consternation through the hearts of the patriots. their leaders looked with suspicion into one another's faces as they gathered in council; for no one knew but that his comrade was in secret league with the enemy. wearied with trials, the soldiers whispered in the camps that amesa was a castriot as well as scanderbeg. italians of rank, who had loaned their swords to the great chieftain, were returning to their homes, saying that it was not worth while to risk their lives and fortunes in defending a people who were no longer agreed in defending themselves. scanderbeg, apparently unwilling or unable to cope with this double danger,--the power of the ottoman without, and a civil war within his land--retired to lyssa,[ ] far away to the north. the turks determined to inaugurate their final conquest, by the formal coronation of their ally, so that, heralded by king amesa's proclamations, they might advance more readily to the occupation of the land. the day was set for the ceremony of the royal investiture. as their scouts, ranging far and wide, reported no enemy to be near, the attention of the army was given to preparation for the splendid pageants, the very story of which should awe the simple peasant population into submission, or seduce their hearts with the hope of having so magnificent a patron. the day before that appointed for this glorious dawn of the new royalty, was one of intense heat, in the middle of july. the snows had melted even from the summit of the thessalian olympus, though its bare pinnacle yonder pierced the sky nearly ten thousand feet above the sea. armor was heaped in the tents. horses unsaddled were gathered in stockades, or tethered far out on the glassy plain. soldiers stretched themselves under the shadow of the trees, or wandered in groups through the deserted gardens and orchards of the neighboring country, feasting upon the early ripened fruits. only the eagles that circled the air high above the vast encampment, or perched upon the crags of distant hills, seemed to have any alarm; for now and then they darted off with a shrill cry. but an eye, like that of a mysterious retributive providence, was peering through the thicket that crested a high hill. scanderbeg, presumed to be far away, had studied the plain long and intently; when, turning to constantine, who was at his side, he said: "now plan me a raid through that flock of silly sheep. where would you strike, my boy?" constantine replied, "there is but one point at which we could enter the plain,--through yonder depression. the hills on either side would conceal the advance until well upon them. besides, the narrowness of the valley, and the growth of trees would prevent their meeting us with more than man for man." scanderbeg shook his head. "the turks know that place invites attack as well as we do, and have ranged so as to prevent surprise there. but yonder line of trees and copse leads almost to the centre of their camp." "but it is exposed to view on either side," replied constantine. "so much the better," said castriot, "and therefore it is not guarded even in isaac pasha's thought. it would take longer after the alarm to range against us there than in the ravine. their cavalry is all on this side the trees. they could not cut through the bushes before we were by the horse-tails yonder, there by the pasha's tent." "but is it not too open?" said constantine, almost incredulous. "yes, at any other time than this, when the turks are not dreaming of our being within a dozen leagues of them. the very boldness of such an attack as this at high noon-tide will be better for us than any scheming. and, if i mistake not, and our beasts are not too jaded by the long march, we shall have the souls out of a thousand or so of the turks before they can get their bodies into armor. and i give to you, my boy, the care of our nephew, amesa. be diverted by no side play, but cut your way straight to him. if possible, spare his life, but he must never get a crown upon his head." as silently as the summer's fleecy clouds gather into the storm, the band of patriots, summoned from their various quarters, gathered behind the spur of the hill. the turks were startled as with a sudden rising tempest. beys and pashas and agas had scarcely emerged from their tents, when five thousand albanian cavalrymen were already turning the line of the woods. on they came with the celerity of a flock of birds just skimming the ground. the sentry flew as the leaves before the wind. the very multitude of the turks, driven toward the centre, but fed the dripping swords of the assailants. among the tents wound the compact array of albanian riders, like a huge serpent. on and on it rolled, scarcely pausing to repel attack. dividing, one part crushed the headquarters of isaac, while the other wrapped in its crunching folds the splendid camp of amesa. bravely did this young absalom defend his unfledged royalty. surrounded by a group of albanian renegades like himself, he fought desperately, well knowing the dire vengeance which should follow his capture. but one by one they fell. amesa remained almost alone, as yet unharmed. the captain of the albanian troops commanded a halt, and, dismounting, he demanded amesa's surrender. "to none but a castriot will a castriot surrender!" cried the infuriate man, making a lunge at the challenger. the thrust was avoided. "you shall surrender to another," cried the albanian officer. "stand back, men, he shall yield to me alone." "who are you?" growled the challenged man. "one who has the right to avenge the wrong done to mara de streeses," was the reply. quick as a panther amesa leaped upon him. but the tremendous blow he aimed, might as well have been delivered against a rock, as against the sword of constantine. the effort threw him off his balance; and before he could recover himself, the tremendous slash of his opponent, though warded, brought him to the ground. in an instant constantine's knee was upon his breast, and his sword at his throat. "do you surrender?" "yes!" groaned the helpless man. he was instantly disarmed, and bound by the girth to a horse. footnotes: [ ] vide knowles, history of the turks, and albanian chronicles. [ ] modern alessio. chapter liv. the corps of janizaries had been quartered at some distance from the main body of the turks. their new aga comprehended at once the significance of the turmoil in the camp, and hastened to the defence. though he moved rapidly, and with a well conceived plan of confronting the enemy, yet, most of his troops being foot-soldiers, he was unable to confront the swift-riding squadrons of scanderbeg. these assailants withdrew from the field, but only to return again and again upon the panic stricken turks, whose fears had magnified the numbers of their foes into scores of thousands. so rapidly did assault follow assault, and from such diverse quarters, that the moslem fright imagined one attack was headed by the terrible ivan beg with his savage montenegrins, and another by hunyades, a report of whose alliance with scanderbeg had reached the camps before the battle. indeed the rumble of a coming thunder storm was interpreted into the clamor and tread of unknown myriads ready to burst through the mountains. never did a more insane panic steal away the courage of soldiers and the judgment of generals. late in the day the plain of pharsalia was the scene of one vast wreck. overturned tents displayed immense stores of burnished arms and vestments, provisions of need and luxury, standards for the field and banners for the pageant; and everywhere strewn amid this debris of pomp and pride the half-armored bodies of the slaughtered turks. in narrow mountain valleys the freshet following the sudden tempest, never changed the bloom of the summer gardens more completely, than this panic, following scanderbeg's raid, changed the splendid camp of the morning into the desolation upon which the setting sun cast, as a fitting omen, its red rays. indeed, we can conceive no similitude by which to express the contrast better than that of amesa himself, in the morning adorned in the splendor of his royal expectation, and at night lying bound with ropes at the feet of scanderbeg. the grand old chieftain looked at the renegade for a moment with pity and scorn; then turned away, saying,-- "let him lie there until captain constantine, to whom he belongs, shall come." but constantine came not. though the main body of the turks had taken to precipitate flight, the janizaries had managed, by their unbroken and orderly retreat, to cover the rear, and prevent pursuit by scanderbeg. ballaban had reached the group engaged in the capture of amesa, and almost rescued him. this would have been accomplished had not constantine and a handful of his company made a living wall between the janizaries and those who were leading away the miserable man. ballaban, feeling the responsibility of saving him whom he had led into this shameful misfortune, pressed to the very front. "by the sword of the prophet! the fellow fights bravely," he exclaimed, as he watched constantine, baffling a half dozen janizaries who were pressing upon him. "back, men! i would measure my arm against his," he cried, as he laid his sword against that of his unknown antagonist. both were in complete armor, their faces concealed by the closed helmets. the soldiers stood as eager spectators of the masterly sword play. the two men seemed evenly matched,--the same in stature and build. there was, too, a surprising similarity in movement--the very tactics of the janizary in thrust and parry being repeated by the albanian; their swords now flashing like interlacing flames; the sharp ring as the albanian smote upon the polished metal of his antagonist's armor, answered by the duller thud as the janizary's blow fell upon the thick leather which encased the panoply of his opponent. then both stood as if posing for the sculptor; their sword points crossing; their eyes glaring beneath the visors; the slightest movement of a muscle anticipated by either--then again the crash. but constantine was exhausted by his previous engagement with amesa. in an unlucky moment the sword turned in his hand. the steadiness of the grip was lost. he managed to ward the blow which the aga delivered; but, foreseeing that he could not recover his grasp soon enough to return it, and that his opponent was thrown slightly off his perfect poise by his exertion, he dropped his sword, and closed with him. they fell to the ground; but the aga, more alert at the instant, was uppermost, and his dagger first in position for the fatal cut. "i can not slay so valiant a man as you," said ballaban. "you surrender?" "i must," was the response. as they rose, ballaban looked a moment upon the vanquished, and said, "i would know the name of my worthy antagonist, for worthier i never found. scanderbeg himself could not have done better. but i had the advantage of being in better wind at the start, or, allah knows, i had fared hard." "it is enough that i am your prisoner," said constantine, "and that i have detained my conqueror long enough to prevent the recapture of that albanian traitor, amesa. you can have me willingly, now that you cannot have him." the albanian threw up his visor. ballaban stared at the face. it was as familiar as his own which he saw daily in the polished brass mirror. the janizaries stared with almost equal amazement. "no wonder he fought so well, aga!" said one, "for he is thy other self." "let him be brought to our headquarters when we halt," said ballaban, remounting his horse, and dashing away to another part of the field. chapter lv. night brought little sleep to the turkish host. though danger was past, a sense of humiliation and chagrin was shared by officers and men, as they realized that their defeat was due to their own folly more than to the strength of their foe. in every tentless group the men disturbed the quiet of the night with their ceaseless quarrels. members of the different commands, hopelessly confused in the general flight, rivalled one another in the rancor and contempt of their mutual recriminations as much as they ever emulated one another in the courage and prowess of a well fought field. among those of highest rank bitter and insulting words were followed by blows, as if the general disgrace could be washed out by a gratuitous spilling of their own blood. but a different interest kept ballaban waking. beneath the great tree, which had been designated as the headquarters of the janizaries, and from a limb of which was suspended the symbolic kettle, his prisoner had been awaiting the chief aga. the glimpse of his face at the time of the capture had awakened in the janizary more than a suspicion of the personality of the captive; while the name of ballaban, which he had heard from the soldiers, revealed to the albanian that of his captor. with impatience the aga conversed with the various commanders who thronged him, and as soon as possible dismissed them. when they were alone constantine rose, and, without completing his salâm, exclaimed, "you play more roughly, michael, than when last we wrestled together among the rocks of slatiza." "ah, my brother constantine, i thought of you when you gripped me in the fight to-day; for it was the same old hug with which we rolled together long ago. i would have known you, had you only given me time to think, without your raising the visor." the brothers stood for a moment in half embrace, scanning each other's face and form. an onlooker would have noted that their mutual resemblance was not in the details of their features, so much as in certain marked peculiarities; such as the red and bristling hair, square face, prominent nose and chin. constantine's forehead was higher than michael's, which had more breadth and massiveness across the brows. in speaking, constantine's eye kindled, and his plastic lips gave expression to every play of sentiment: while michael's face was as inflexible as a mask; the deep light of his glance as thoroughly under control of his will as if it were the flash of a dark lantern; his appearance revealing not the shadow of a thought, not the flicker of an emotion, beyond that he chose to put into words. this physiognomical difference was doubtless largely due to the training of years. the janizary's habit of caution and secretiveness evolved, as it were, this invisible, but impenetrable, visor. the custom of unquestioning obedience to another, and that of the remorseless prosecution of whatever he regarded as politic for the service, gave rigidity to the facial muscles; set them with the prevalent purpose; stereotyped in them the expression of determination. a short beard added to the immobile cast of his countenance. thus, though when separated the two men might readily be taken the one for the other, when together their resemblance served to suggest as wide contrasts. the entire night was spent by the brothers in mutual narrations of their eventful lives. though their careers had been so distinct, in different lands, under rival civilizations, in the service of contending nations, and inflamed by the incentives of antagonistic religions, yet their roads had crossed at the most important points in each. they learned to their astonishment that the most significant events, those awakening the deepest experience in the one life, had been due to the presence of the other. as michael told of his raid upon the albanian village, constantine supplied the key to the mystery of the escape of his fair captive, and the arrest of michael for having at that time deserted his command. then michael in turn supplied the key to constantine's arrest by colonel kabilovitsch's men as a turkish spy. constantine solved the enigma of amesa's overtures to michael in reference to the dodola elissa; and michael solved that of constantine's rough handling by the garrison of sfetigrade for having dropped the dog into the well. constantine unravelled the diabolical plot which had nearly been tragic for michael in the old reservoir at constantinople; and michael as readily unravelled that of the serio-comic drama in the tent of mahomet, when constantine's life was saved through the assumption that he was his lunatic brother. constantine supplied to michael the missing link in the story of morsinia's escape from constantinople; and michael supplied that which was wanting of constantine's knowledge of the story of her escape from death in the horrors of the scene in st. sophia after the capture of the city. they had, under the strange leadings of what both their christian and moslem faith recognized as a divine providence, been more to each other than they could have been had their lives drifted in the same channel during all these years. in the old boyhood confidence, which their strange meeting had revived, michael did not withhold the confession of morsinia's influence upon him, though she had been to him more of an ideal than a real person, a beautiful development to his imagination out of his childhood memory of his little playmate in the balkans. nor did constantine hesitate to declare the love and betrothal by which he held the charming reality as his own. he told, too, of her real personality as the ward of scanderbeg, and the true heir of the splendid estates until recently held by amesa. the dawn brought duties to the aga which precluded further conference with constantine. "we must part, my dear brother," said michael. "our armies will probably return through macedonia, and abandon the campaign: for such is the unwise determination of our commander isaac. you must escape into your own lines. that can be easily arranged. we may not meet again soon; but i swear to you, by the memory of our childhood, that your personal interest shall be mine. aside from the necessities of the military service, we can be brothers still. and morsinia, that angel of our better natures; you must let me share with you, if not her affection, surely her confidence. i could not woo her from you if i would; but assure her that, though wearing the uniform of an enemy, i shall be as true in my thoughts of her as when we played by the old cot on the mountains; and as when i pledged my life to serve her while she was in the harem at stamboul." "but why must this war against castriot continue? i would that our compact were that of the armies to which we belong," said constantine. "it is impossible for a janizary to sheath the sword while scanderbeg lives," replied the aga. "our oath forbids it. he once was held by the vow of the prophet's service, and deserted it. i know his temptation was strong. in my heart i might find charity for him." the speaker hesitated as if haunted by some troublesome memory, then continued--"but a janizary may show no charity to a renegade. besides, he is the curse of albania. but for his ambition, these twelve years of blood would have been those of peace and happiness through all these valleys, under the sway of our munificent and wise padishah." "your own best thoughts, michael, should correct you. what are peace and its happy indolence compared with the cause of a holy faith?" "you speak sublimely, my brother," replied michael, "but your faith gains nothing by this war. under our padishah's beneficence the giaours are protected. the greeks hold sufficient churches, even in stamboul, for the worship of all who remain in that faith. indeed, i have heard gennadius the monk of whom you were speaking awhile ago--say that he would trust his flock to the keeping of the moslem stranger sooner than to the pope of rome. i have known our padishah defend the greek giaours from the tyranny of their own bishops. he asks only the loyalty of his people to his throne, and awaits the will of allah to turn them to his faith; for the book of the prophet says truly, allah will lead into error whom he pleaseth and whom he pleaseth he will put in the right way.[ ] believe me, my brother, albania's safety is only in submission. the fate that directs all affairs has indubitably decreed that all this vast peninsula between adria and Ægea shall lie beneath the shadow of the padishah's sceptre; for he is zil-ullah, the shadow of god. who can resist the conqueror of the capital of your eastern christian empire; the conqueror of athens, and of the islands of the sea?" "let us then speak no more of this," said constantine. "our training has been so different, that we can not hope to agree. but we can be one in the kindliness of our thoughts, as we are of one blood. jesu bless you, my brother!" "allah bless you, constantine!" was the hearty response, as the two grasped hands. eyes which would not have shown bodily pain by so much as the tremor of their lids, were moist with the outflow of those springs in our nature that are deeper than courage--springs of brotherly affection, fed by hallowed memories of the long ago. two janizaries accompanied constantine beyond the turkish lines. "what new scheme has the aga hatched in his brain now?" said one of them, as they returned. "he has twisted that fellow's brain so that he will never serve scanderbeg truly again," was the knowing reply. "the aga is the very devil to throw a spell over a man. they say that when he captured the fellow yesterday, he had only to squint into his face a moment, when, as quick as a turn of a foil, the man changed his looks, and was as much like the aga as two thumbs." footnote: [ ] koran, chapter vi. chapter lvi. the splendor of the victory, and the inestimable spoil which fell into the hands of the albanians, elated the patriot braves; and the good news flew as if the eagles that watched the battles from afar were its couriers. castriot, however, seemed to be oblivious to the general rejoicing. the wrath he had displayed during the time of amesa's menace from the ranks of the enemy, was displaced by pity as he looked upon the contemptible and impotent man. he touched him with his foot, and said, in half soliloquy-- "and in this body is some of the blood of the castriots! humph!" turning away he paced the tent-- "and why not castriot's blood in amesa! it is not too immaculate to flow in his veins, since it has filled my own. i was a turk, too, once. but----" looking at the wrinkles upon his hand--"growing old in a better service may atone somewhat for the shame of earlier days. and these hands never murdered a peaceful neighbor and his innocent wife, and robbed a child of her inheritance--though they did murder that poor reis-effendi. but god knows it could not be helped. but what is one man that he shall condemn another!" an officer approached for orders. "what, sire, shall be done with the prisoner?" "let him lie until constantine comes!" was the response. late in the night the general sat gazing upon the miserable heap of humanity that crouched by the tent side. amesa raised himself as far as his bonds would permit, and began to speak. "silence!" demanded castriot, but without taking his eyes from the prisoner. a subaltern, anxious to induce the general to take needed rest, again suggested some disposition of the prisoner for the night. "let him lie until constantine comes!" "captain constantine has been captured, sire," replied the officer; "men who were with him have returned, and so report." "by whom captured?" asked the general in alarm. "by janizaries." castriot smiled, and asked, "it is certain he was not slain?" "certain, sire, for ino saw him being taken away." "let the prisoner lie there until captain constantine returns." the morning found amesa still bound. no one had been allowed to speak to him, nor he to utter a word. during castriot's absence from the tent not one approached it; only the guard patrolled at the distance of a couple of rods. "the torture of such a villain's thoughts will be more cruel than our taunts or swords. let him lie there, and tear himself with his own devil claws!" had been castriot's order. toward noon the camp rang with cheers. scouts reported that constantine had escaped, and was returning. castriot alone seemed unsurprised, though gratified with the news. he went to the edge of the camp to meet him. "well, my boy, your brother was not so well pleased with your looks, and let you go sooner than i thought he would. i expected you not until to-night." "my brother? how knew you, sire, that i had seen him? for i have told it to none." "then tell it to none. to warn you of that i came to meet you, lest your tongue might be unwise. did you not tell me yourself that ballaban was the moslem name of your brother?" "but how knew you that he was in this service?" asked constantine. "as i know every officer in the enemy's service in albania above an ojak's command. and the aga of the janizaries is to my mind as the commander of the expedition. and i will tell you more, my boy;--unless the padishah has gone daft with his chagrin over this defeat, ballaban aga will command the next campaign against us: for none save he kept his wits in the fight yesterday. his plan was masterful, and saved the whole moslem army. he held his janizaries so well in hand, and so well placed, that i could not follow up our advantage, nor even strike to rescue you. ballaban evidently has been much in the albanian wars, and has learned my methods better than any of our own officers. should he succeed to the horse-tails, the war hereafter will not be so one-sided as it has been. mark that, my dear fellow. but we must look to our royal prisoner, after i have heard your story." late in the day castriot summoned moses goleme, kabilovitsch, and constantine. amesa was unbound, and was bidden to speak what he could in extenuation of his treason. the voivode protested his innocence of any designs against the liberties of his country; and declared that he had despaired of obtaining her independence under castriot's leadership. better was it to take the virtual freedom of albania under the sultan's nominal suzerainty, than to longer wage a hopeless war. in this he was seconded, he said, by the noblest generals and patriots. he was about to mention them; but was forbidden to utter so much as a suspicion against any one. "i would not know them," said the magnanimous chief. "i will not have a shadow of distrust in my mind toward any who have not drawn sword against us. let them keep their thoughts in their own breasts. noble moses, your lips shall pronounce the sentence due amesa's treason." the dibrian general was silent. "then, if moses speaks no condemnation, no other lips shall," said castriot. amesa threw himself at the feet of the chief, and began to pour forth his gratitude. "the life thou hast spared, sire, shall ever be thine. my sword shall be given to thee as sovereign of my heart, as well as of my country." "hold!" said castriot. "what says arnaud, the forester?" amesa raised his face, blanched as suddenly with horror as it had been flushed with elation. the venerable kabilovitsch sat in silence for a time, lost in the vividness of his recollections. at length, with slow speech and tremulous voice, he portrayed the scenes of that terrible night when the castle of the gallant de streeses was destroyed, its owner slain, the fair mara driven back into the flames from which she would have fled. "it is a lie," shouted amesa. "the deed was wrought by turks!"---- "thy words condemn thee!" said castriot. "the crime was not laid to thy charge, amesa. but now it shall be. let drakul be brought." soldiers led in the man. the villain, whose hand had stayed at no deed of daring or cruelty, was now seized with such cowardly fright that he could scarce keep his legs. he was dragged before the extemporized court. in answer to questions, he admitted his part, not only in the original murders, but also in the raid upon the hamlet where amesa had suspected the heiress of de streeses to be concealed. amesa's rage at this betrayal burst forth in savage oaths, mingled with such contradictory denials of his story as clearly confirmed its truth. "for his treason against my authority, i refuse to take vengeance," said castriot. "but albania, appealing for god's aid in establishing its liberties, must, in god's name, do justice. what says colonel kabilovitsch?" the old man spoke as if the solemnity of the last judgment had fallen upon him,-- "as soon i must go before him whose mercy i shall so sadly need for the sins of my own life, i forgive amesa the cruelty with which he has followed me. god is my witness, that my personal grievance colors not a thought of my heart. but, as i shall soon stand before the judge, together with the noble de streeses, who was robbed of life in its meridian, and that bright spirit whose cry for amesa's mercy i heard from out the flames, i say, let justice be done! and let the soul of the murderer be sent to confront his victims there before their god!" "amen!" said constantine. moses goleme was silent. amesa had lost all his bravado. he trembled as would the meanest of men who should bow his neck to the sword. he confessed his crime, and piteously begged for his life; or, at least, that time should be given him to make preparation for what he dreaded worse than death. a spirit already damned seemed to have taken possession of his quivering frame. "your life, amesa," said the chief, "is forfeit for your crimes. on the citadel walls of croia, when we shall have returned there, as the sun sets, so shall your life! jesu grant that, through your repentance and the prayers of mother church, your soul may rise again in a better world!" "amen!" responded all. the army returned from the thessalian border through the country northward, everywhere received with ovations by the people. the fate of amesa, though commiserated, was as generally commended. no one, however attached by association to the once popular voivode, raised a voice in dissent from the sentence, or in pity for the culprit. chapter lvii. the news reached morsinia at croia long before the return of the army. she took little joy in the hearty and generous acclaim that welcomed her to her inheritance. she had no vanity to be stimulated by the popular stories which associated her beauty with her wealth. her thoughts seemed to be palled with heaviness, rather than canopied by the bright prospects which fortune had spread for her. when castriot officially announced to her the restoration of the destreeses' property, she refused to enter upon her estates, which were to come to her through the ceremony of blood in the execution of her enemy. "no! let them be confiscate to the state. i cheerfully surrender their revenues for albania. i ask nothing more than to be the instrument of so aiding our noble cause and its noble leader," said she. "albania will insist that you shall obtain your right. from voivode to lowest peasant, the people will be content only as the daughter of destreeses graces his ancient castle." "but," responded she, "i shall never enter its doors over the body of my enemy. may not some other fate be his?" "law should be sacred," said castriot. "but is it not a law of albania that even a murderer need not be executed if all the family of his victim unite in his behalf, and he pay the krwnina?[ ] am i not all the family of destreeses? let then the estates be the krwnina." "that cannot be," replied castriot. "the law requires the price of blood to be paid by the murderer, and the estates belong not to amesa. besides, albania will be better served by your occupation of the castle, reviving its ancient prestige, and proclaiming thus that the reign of justice has been restored in our land." "but let justice be mingled with mercy," said morsinia. "nay, the mercy would dilute the quality of the justice." "can there be no mitigation of our cousin amesa's fate, which shall not prejudice the right?" asked the fair intercessor. "if jesu prayed to his father that his murderers might be forgiven, may not i plead that my father, the father of his country, shall be gracious to him who has wronged me?" castriot was absorbed in deep thought. at length he replied: "ah, how little we men, schooled to revenge and bloodshed, know what justice is, and what mercy is, as these sentiments move in the heart of the eternal! your pure soul, my child, has closer kinship with heaven than ours. i fear to deny your request, lest i should offend that mysterious spirit which has seemed to counsel me since, in the land of the moslems, i swore to return to my christian faith; and which, in my prayers and dreams, has been strangely associated with you. in all that is right and good your conscience shall still inspire mine: for you are my good angel. amesa's life shall be spared. but no breath of his must so much as taint the air of albania. i am summoned by my old ally, ferdinand of naples, to assist in driving the french from his domains. amesa shall go with me, and be kept in custody among strangers. but it must be proclaimed from the citadel of croia that his life is restored him by the daughter of musache de streeses. "and yet, my dear child," continued he, "in these rude times you cannot dwell alone in the castle. you need a protector who is not only wise and brave, and loyal to albania, but loyal to you. my duties elsewhere will prevent my rendering that service. colonel kabilovitsch's age is stealing the alertness from his energies. our constantine--ah! does the blush tell that i am right?" he took her hand, as he asked: "may i exercise the father's privilege, according to our albanian custom, and put this hand into constantine's, to keep and to defend?" morsinia replied frankly. "since, sire, i may not give my estates to my country, bestow them upon whom you will; and my hand must go to him, who, since we were children, has held my heart." the following day, as the sun gilded the walls of croia with his setting rays, an immense concourse of soldiers and peasants gathered within the citadel court. the executioner led the traitor, followed by a priest, out upon the bastion. a trumpet sounded, and the silence which followed its dying note was broken by the voice of the crier, who announced that, in the name of god and the sovereign people, and by the ordaining of george, duke of albania, the decree of justice should be executed upon the voivode amesa. then followed the record of his crimes, together with the declaration that his appearance in arms among the enemy, having been, according to his declaration, not treason against his country, but rebellion against the military chieftaincy of duke george, was by the grace of that high official forgiven; and further that the sentence of death for his foul murder of musache de streeses and his wife mara cernoviche, was, through the intercession of mara, sole survivor of that ancient house, and by the authority of duke george, commuted to perpetual banishment from the realm, in such place and condition as seemed best to the duke for the security of the land. the people stood in amazement as they listened. the relief from the horror of the anticipated spectacle, when the head of the former favorite should be held up by the executioner, led them to accept complacently this turn in affairs, even though their judgment did not commend it. in a few moments the cry rose, "live duke george! a castriot forever!" soon it changed to wilder enthusiasm, "long live mara de streeses!" this storm of applause could not be stilled until morsinia permitted herself to be led by castriot to the edge of the battlement. as the sun was setting, the huge mass of the citadel rose like a mighty altar from the bosom of the gloom which had already settled about its base. slowly the shadow had climbed its side, crowding the last bright ray until it vanished from the top of the parapet. it was at this instant that morsinia appeared. the citadel beneath her was sombre as the coming night which enwrapped it, but her form was radiant in the lingering splendor of the departing day. as she raised her hand in response to the grateful clamor of the people, she seemed the impersonation of a heavenly benediction. the multitude gazed in reverent silence for a moment. then, as the sun dropped behind the western hill, veiling the glory of this apparition, they made the very sky resound with their shouts; and in the quick gathering darkness went their ways. a few weeks later, the castle of de streeses was decked with banners, whose bright colors rivalled the late autumnal hues of the forest from the midst of which it rose. multitudes of people all day long thronged the paths leading up to it from the valleys around. gorgeously arrayed voivodes, accompanied by their suites, made the ravines resound with their rattling armor; and bands of peasants, in cheap but gaudy finery, threaded through the by paths. those who possessed tents brought them. others, upon their arrival in the proximity of the castle, erected booths and festooned them with vines, which the advancing season had painted fiery red or burst into gray feathery plumes. from cleared places near the castle walls rose huge spirals of smoke, as oxen and sheep, quartered or entire, were being roasted, to feed the multitude of guests; while great casks of foaming beer and ruddy sparkling wine excited and slaked their thirst. the recent defeat of the turks had led to the withdrawal of their armies, at least until winter should have passed; and the people of the northern country gave themselves up to the double celebration of the well-won peace and the nuptials of mara de streeses. within the castle the great and the dignified of the land abandoned themselves to equal freedom with the peasants, in the enjoyment of games, and the observance of simple and fantastic national customs. morsinia and constantine kissed again through the ivy wreath, as in the days of childhood. the new matron's distaff touched the oaken walls of the great dining hall; and her hand spread the table with bread and wine and water, in formal assumption of her office as housewife. when she undressed and dressed again the babe, borrowed from a neighboring cottage, she received sundry scoldings and many saws of nursery advice from a group of peasant mothers. the happy couple were almost buried beneath the buckets of grain, which some of the guests poured over them, as they wished them all the blessings of the soil. when they approached the fire place they were showered with sparks, as some one struck the huge glowing log and invoked for them the possession of herds and flocks and friends as many as the fireflecks that flew. gifts were offered: those of the poor and rich being received with equal grace;--a rare breed of domestic fowls following a case of cutlery from toledo in spain; and a necklace of pearls preceding a hound trained by some skillful hunter. on opening the casket which castriot presented, as he kissed the golden cluster upon the forehead of the bride, there was found within a cap of sparkling gems, such as is worn by oriental brides, a parchment commissioning constantine as a voivode in the albanian service, with governor's command of the skadar country. the blessing of the priest was supplemented by those of the old men, which were put in form of prophecies. kabilovitsch inclosed the happy couple in outstretched arms, and gazing long into their faces, said: "as on that night at the foot of the balkans i wrapped you, my children, in my blanket, and, in my absence, another greater than we knew, our generous castriot, took my place to watch over you; so now, as soon i must leave you forever, one greater than man knows, even our covenant god, shall be your guardian!" a man, apparently decrepit with the weight of years, assumed the privilege of a venerable stranger upon such occasions, and came to utter his prophecy. his head was covered with a close fitting fur cap, which concealed his brow to the eyes. straggling gray locks hung partly over his face and down his neck. as he spoke, constantine started with evident amazement, which was, however, instantly checked. the bride seemed strangely fascinated. kabilovitsch, who had been too much absorbed with his own thoughts to notice the stranger's approach, lifted his head quickly, and put his hand to his ear, as if catching some faint and distant sound. this was the old prophet's blessing-- "allah ordains that these walls, consecrated to justice, and inhabited by love, shall from this day be guarded by peace. even the moslem's sword shall be stayed from hence!" he bowed to the floor, touching with his lips the spot where morsinia had stood. before the guests could fully comprehend this scene, he was gone. but lying on the floor where he had bowed was a silken case, elegantly wrought. morsinia uttered a subdued, yet startled, cry as she seized it. the gift seemed to have thrown a spell about her; for, with paled cheeks, she asked that she might retire to rest awhile in her chamber. "a wjeshtize!" cried several, looking out from the door through which the man had passed. "heaven grant he has left no curse!" exclaimed others. the silken case contained several crystals of atar of roses. in one of these, which was larger than the others, gleamed, instead of the perfumed drop, a splendid diamond. upon a piece of parchment, as fine as the silk of which the case was made, morsinia read-- "my pledge to give my life for thine shall be kept when need requires--meanwhile know that the padishah, the rightful lord of albania, has bestowed this castle upon ballaban badera, aga of the janizaries, who in turn bestows it upon mara de streeses-- "signed, "michael." * * * * * our story has covered a period of thirteen years. for eleven years more the genius of scanderbeg, which his perhaps too partial countrymen used to compare to that of alexander and pyrrhus, withstood the whole power of the ottoman empire, directed against him by the most skilful generals of the age. sinam and assem, jusem and caraza, seremet and the puissant sultan mahomet himself successively appeared in the field; but retreated, leaving their thousands of slain to attest the invincibility of the albanian chief. only one ottoman commander ventured to return for a second campaign. the old latin chronicles of the monk marinus barletius--who records the deeds of castriot in thirteen volumes--assign this honorable distinction to the janizary, ballaban badera. in six campaigns this redoubtable warrior desolated albania. from thessaly, northward over the land, poured the moslem tide, but it stayed itself at the waters of skadar; and, as if fate had approved the prophecy of the aged stranger at the nuptials of constantine and morsinia, the castle of de streeses during all these terrible years, looked down upon bloodless fields. though his lands were ravaged, the courage of castriot was not wearied, nor was his genius baffled, until, in the year , there came upon him a mightier than ballaban, a mightier than mahomet. in the presence of the last enemy he commended his country to the valor of his voivodes, his family to the protection of friends,[ ] and his soul to the grace of jesu, his saviour. they buried him in the old church at lyssa. years after, no scanderbeg succeeding scanderbeg, the turks possessed the land. they dug up his bones, and, inclosing their fragments in silver and gold, wore them as amulets. pashas and viziers esteemed themselves happy, even in subsequent centuries, if they might so much as touch a bone of scanderbeg; "for perchance," they said, "there may thus be imparted to us some of that valor and skill which in him were invincible by the might of men." footnotes: [ ] the price of blood, generally piastres among the poorer classes, which was paid by the culprit to the village where the crime was committed, and by it paid to the general government. [ ] castriot married late in life. the end. this ebook was produced by david widger orrected and updated text and html pg editions of the complete volume set may be found at: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / .txt http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm leila or, the siege of granada by edward bulwer lytton book i. chapter i. the enchanter and the warrior. it was the summer of the year , and the armies of ferdinand and isabel invested the city of granada. the night was not far advanced; and the moon, which broke through the transparent air of andalusia, shone calmly over the immense and murmuring encampment of the spanish foe, and touched with a hazy light the snow- capped summits of the sierra nevada, contrasting the verdure and luxuriance which no devastation of man could utterly sweep from the beautiful vale below. in the streets of the moorish city many a group still lingered. some, as if unconscious of the beleaguering war without, were listening in quiet indolence to the strings of the moorish lute, or the lively tale of an arabian improrvisatore; others were conversing with such eager and animated gestures, as no ordinary excitement could wring from the stately calm habitual to every oriental people. but the more public places in which gathered these different groups, only the more impressively heightened the desolate and solemn repose that brooded over the rest of the city. at this time, a man, with downcast eyes, and arms folded within the sweeping gown which descended to his feet, was seen passing through the streets, alone, and apparently unobservent of all around him. yet this indifference was by no means shared by the struggling crowds through which, from time to time, he musingly swept. "god is great!" said one man; "it is the enchanter almamen." "he hath locked up the manhood of boabdil el chico with the key of his spells," quoth another, stroking his beard; "i would curse him, if i dared." "but they say that he hath promised that when man fails, the genii will fight for granada," observed a third, doubtingly. "allah akbar! what is, is! what shall be, shall be!" said a fourth, with all the solemn sagacity of a prophet. whatever their feelings, whether of awe or execration, terror or hope, each group gave way as almamen passed, and hushed the murmurs not intended for his ear. passing through the zacatin (the street which traversed the great bazaar), the reputed enchanter ascended a narrow and winding street, and arrived at last before the walls that encircled the palace and fortress of the alhambra. the sentry at the gate saluted and admitted him in silence; and in a few moments his form was lost in the solitude of groves, amidst which, at frequent openings, the spray of arabian fountains glittered in the moonlight; while, above, rose the castled heights of the alhambra; and on the right those vermilion towers, whose origin veils itself in the furthest ages of phoenician enterprise. almamen paused, and surveyed the scene. "was aden more lovely?" he muttered; "and shall so fair a spot be trodden by the victor nazerene? what matters? creed chases creed--race, race--until time comes back to its starting-place, and beholds the reign restored to the eldest faith and the eldest tribe. the horn of our strength shall be exalted." at these thoughts the seer relapsed into silence, and gazed long and intently upon the stars, as, more numerous and brilliant with every step of the advancing night, their rays broke on the playful waters, and tinged with silver the various and breathless foliage. so earnest was his gaze, and so absorbed his thoughts, that he did not perceive the approach of a moor, whose glittering weapons and snow-white turban, rich with emeralds, cast a gleam through the wood. the new comer was above the common size of his race, generally small and spare--but without attaining the lofty stature and large proportions of the more redoubted of the warriors of spain. but in his presence and mien there was something, which, in the haughtiest conclave of christian chivalry, would have seemed to tower and command. he walked with a step at once light and stately, as if it spurned the earth; and in the carriage of the small erect head and stag-like throat, there was that undefinable and imposing dignity, which accords so well with our conception of a heroic lineage, and a noble though imperious spirit. the stranger approached almamen, and paused abruptly when within a few steps of the enchanter. he gazed upon him in silence for some moments; and when at length he spoke it was with a cold and sarcastic tone. "pretender to the dark secrets," said he, "is it in the stars that thou art reading those destinies of men and nations, which the prophet wrought by the chieftain's brain and the soldier's arm?" "prince," replied almamen, turning slowly, and recognising the intruder on his meditations, "i was but considering how many revolutions, which have shaken earth to its centre, those orbs have witnessed, unsympathising and unchanged." "unsympathising!" repeated the moor--"yet thou believest in their effect upon the earth?" "you wrong me," answered almamen, with a slight smile, "you confound your servant with that vain race, the astrologers." "i deemed astrology a part of the science of the two angels, harut and marut." [the science of magic. it was taught by the angels named in the text; for which offence they are still supposed to be confined to the ancient babel. there they may yet be consulted, though they are rarely seen.--yallal'odir yahya. --sale's koran.] "possibly; but i know not that science, though i have wandered at midnight by the ancient babel." "fame lies to us, then," answered the moor, with some surprise. "fame never made pretence to truth," said almamen, calmly, and proceeding on his way. "allah be with you, prince! i seek the king." "stay! i have just quitted his presence, and left him, i trust, with thoughts worthy of the sovereign of granada, which i would not have disturbed by a stranger, a man whose arms are not spear nor shield." "noble muza," returned almamen, "fear not that my voice will weaken the inspirations which thine hath breathed into the breast of boabdil. alas! if my counsel were heeded, thou wouldst hear the warriors of granada talk less of muza, and more of the king. but fate, or allah, hath placed upon the throne of a tottering dynasty, one who, though brave, is weak-- though, wise, a dreamer; and you suspect the adviser, when you find the influence of nature on the advised. is this just?" muza gazed long and sternly on the face of almamen; then, putting his hand gently on the enchanter's shoulder, he said-- "stranger, if thou playest us false, think that this arm hath cloven the casque of many a foe, and will not spare the turban of a traitor!" "and think thou, proud prince!" returned almamen, unquailing, "that i answer alone to allah for my motives, and that against man my deeds i can defend!" with these words, the enchanter drew his long robe round him, and disappeared amidst the foliage. chapter ii. the king within his palace. in one of those apartments, the luxury of which is known only to the inhabitants of a genial climate (half chamber and half grotto), reclined a young moor, in a thoughtful and musing attitude. the ceiling of cedar-wood, glowing with gold and azure, was supported by slender shafts, of the whitest alabaster, between which were open arcades, light and graceful as the arched vineyards of italy, and wrought in that delicate filagree-work common to the arabian architecture: through these arcades was seen at intervals the lapsing fall of waters, lighted by alabaster lamps; and their tinkling music sounded with a fresh and regular murmur upon the ear. the whole of one side of this apartment was open to a broad and extensive balcony, which overhung the banks of the winding and moonlit darro; and in the clearness of the soft night might be distinctly seen the undulating hills, the woods, and orange- groves, which still form the unrivalled landscapes of granada. the pavement was spread with ottomans and couches of the richest azure, prodigally enriched with quaint designs in broideries of gold and silver; and over that on which the moor reclined, facing the open balcony, were suspended on a pillar the round shield, the light javelin, and the curving cimiter, of moorish warfare. so studded were these arms with jewels of rare cost, that they might alone have sufficed to indicate the rank of the evident owner, even if his own gorgeous vestments had not betrayed it. an open manuscript, on a silver table, lay unread before the moor: as, leaning his face upon his hand, he looked with abstracted eyes along the mountain summits dimly distinguished from the cloudless and far horizon. no one could have gazed without a vague emotion of interest, mixed with melancholy, upon the countenance of the inmate of that luxurious chamber. its beauty was singularly stamped with a grave and stately sadness, which was made still more impressive by its air of youth and the unwonted fairness of the complexion: unlike the attributes of the moorish race, the hair and curling beard were of a deep golden colour; and on the broad forehead and in the large eyes, was that settled and contemplative mildness which rarely softens the swart lineaments of the fiery children of the sun. such was the personal appearance of boabdil el chico, the last of the moorish dynasty in spain. "these scrolls of arabian learning," said boabdil to himself, "what do they teach? to despise wealth and power, to hold the heart to be the true empire. this, then, is wisdom. yet, if i follow these maxims, am i wise? alas! the whole world would call me a driveller and a madman. thus is it ever; the wisdom of the intellect fills us with precepts which it is the wisdom of action to despise. o holy prophet! what fools men would be, if their knavery did not eclipse their folly!" the young king listlessly threw himself back on his cushions as he uttered these words, too philosophical for a king whose crown sate so loosely on his brow. after a few moments of thought that appeared to dissatisfy and disquiet him, boabdil again turned impatiently round "my soul wants the bath of music," said he; "these journeys into a pathless realm have wearied it, and the streams of sound supple and relax the travailed pilgrim." he clapped his hands, and from one of the arcades a boy, hitherto invisible, started into sight; at a slight and scarce perceptible sign from the king the boy again vanished, and in a few moments afterwards, glancing through the fairy pillars, and by the glittering waterfalls, came the small and twinkling feet of the maids of araby. as, with their transparent tunics and white arms, they gleamed, without an echo, through that cool and voluptuous chamber, they might well have seemed the peris of the eastern magic, summoned to beguile the sated leisure of a youthful solomon. with them came a maiden of more exquisite beauty, though smaller stature, than the rest, bearing the light moorish lute; and a faint and languid smile broke over the beautiful face of boabdil, as his eyes rested upon her graceful form and the dark yet glowing lustre of her oriental countenance. she alone approached the king, timidly kissed his hand, and then, joining her comrades, commenced the following song, to the air and very words of which the feet of the dancing-girls kept time, while with the chorus rang the silver bells of the musical instrument which each of the dancers carried. amine's song. i. softly, oh, softly glide, gentle music, thou silver tide, bearing, the lulled air along, this leaf from the rose of song! to its port in his soul let it float, the frail, but the fragrant boat, bear it, soft air, along! ii. with the burthen of sound we are laden, like the bells on the trees of aden,* when they thrill with a tinkling tone at the wind from the holy throne, hark, as we move around, we shake off the buds of sound; thy presence, beloved, is aden. iii. sweet chime that i hear and wake i would, for my lov'd one's sake, that i were a sound like thee, to the depths of his heart to flee. if my breath had his senses blest; if my voice in his heart could rest; what pleasure to die like thee! *[the mohammedans believe that musical bells hang on the trees of paradise, and are put in motion by a wind from the throne of god.] the music ceased; the dancers remained motionless in their graceful postures, as if arrested into statues of alabaster; and the young songstress cast herself on a cushion at the feet of the monarch, and looked up fondly, but silently, into his yet melancholy eyes,--when a man, whose entrance had not been noticed, was seen to stand within the chamber. he was about the middle stature,--lean, muscular, and strongly though sparely built. a plain black robe, something in the fashion of the armenian gown, hung long and loosely over a tunic of bright scarlet, girdled by a broad belt, from the centre of which was suspended a small golden key, while at the left side appeared the jewelled hilt of a crooked dagger. his features were cast in a larger and grander mould than was common among the moors of spain; the forehead was broad, massive, and singularly high, and the dark eyes of unusual size and brilliancy; his beard, short, black, and glossy, curled upward, and concealed all the lower part of the face, save a firm, compressed, and resolute expression in the lips, which were large and full; the nose was high, aquiline, and well-shaped; and the whole character of the head (which was, for symmetry, on too large and gigantic a scale as proportioned to the form) was indicative of extraordinary energy and power. at the first glance, the stranger might have seemed scarce on the borders of middle age; but, on a more careful examination, the deep lines and wrinkles, marked on the forehead and round the eyes, betrayed a more advanced period of life. with arms folded on his breast, he stood by the side of the king, waiting in silence the moment when his presence should be perceived. he did not wait long; the eyes and gesture of the girl nestled at the feet of boabdil drew the king's attention to the spot where the stranger stood: his eye brightened when it fell upon him. "almamen," cried boabdil, eagerly, "you are welcome." as he spoke, he motioned to the dancing-girls to withdraw. "may i not rest? o core of my heart, thy bird is in its home," murmured the songstress at the king's feet. "sweet amine," answered boabdil, tenderly smoothing down her ringlets as he bent to kiss her brow, "you should witness only my hours of delight. toil and business have nought with thee; i will join thee ere yet the nightingale hymns his last music to the moon." amine sighed, rose, and vanished with her companions. "my friend," said the king, when alone with almamen, "your counsels often soothe me into quiet, yet in such hours quiet is a crime. but what do?-- how struggle?--how act? alas! at the hour of his birth, rightly did they affix to the name of boabdil, the epithet of _el zogoybi_. [the unlucky]. misfortune set upon my brow her dark and fated stamp ere yet my lips could shape a prayer against her power. my fierce father, whose frown was as the frown of azrael, hated me in my cradle; in my youth my name was invoked by rebels against my will; imprisoned by my father, with the poison-bowl or the dagger hourly before my eyes, i was saved only by the artifice of my mother. when age and infirmity broke the iron sceptre of the king, my claims to the throne were set aside, and my uncle, el zagal, usurped my birthright. amidst open war and secret treason i wrestled for my crown; and now, the sole sovereign of granada, when, as i fondly imagined, my uncle had lost all claim on the affections of my people by succumbing to the christian king, and accepting a fief under his dominion, i find that the very crime of el zagal is fixed upon me by my unhappy subjects--that they deem he would not have yielded but for my supineness. at the moment of my delivery from my rival, i am received with execration by my subjects, and, driven into this my fortress of the alhambra, dare not venture to head my armies, or to face my people; yet am i called weak and irresolute, when strength and courage are forbid me. and as the water glides from yonder rock, that hath no power to retain it, i see the tide of empire welling from my hands." the young king spoke warmly and bitterly; and, in the irritation of his thoughts, strode, while he spoke, with rapid and irregular strides along the chamber. almamen marked his emotion with an eye and lip of rigid composure. "light of the faithful," said he, when boabdil had concluded, "the powers above never doom man to perpetual sorrow, nor perpetual joy: the cloud and the sunshine are alike essential to the heaven of our destinies; and if thou hast suffered in thy youth, thou hast exhausted the calamities of fate, and thy manhood will be glorious, and thine age serene." "thou speakest as if the armies of ferdinand were not already around my walls," said boabdil, impatiently. "the armies of sennacherib were as mighty," answered almamen. "wise seer," returned the king, in a tone half sarcastic and half solemn, "we, the mussulmans of spain, are not the blind fanatics of the eastern world. on us have fallen the lights of philosophy and science; and if the more clear-sighted among us yet outwardly reverence the forms and fables worshipped by the multitude, it is from the wisdom of policy, not the folly of belief. talk not to me, then, of thine examples of the ancient and elder creeds: the agents of god for this world are now, at least, in men, not angels; and if i wait till ferdinand share the destiny of sennacherib, i wait only till the standard of the cross wave above the vermilion towers." "yet," said almamen, "while my lord the king rejects the fanaticism of belief, doth he reject the fanaticism of persecution? you disbelieve the stories of the hebrews; yet you suffer the hebrews themselves, that ancient and kindred arabian race, to be ground to the dust, condemned and tortured by your judges, your informers, your soldiers, and your subjects." "the base misers! they deserve their fate," answered boabdil, loftily. "gold is their god, and the market-place their country; amidst the tears and groans of nations, they sympathise only with the rise and fall of trade; and, the thieves of the universe! while their hand is against every man's coffer, why wonder that they provoke the hand of every man against their throats? worse than the tribe of hanifa, who eat their god only in time of famine;--[the tribe of hanifa worshipped a lump of dough]--the race of moisa--[moses]--would sell the seven heavens for the dent on the back of the date-stone."--[a proverb used in the koran, signifying the smallest possible trifle]. "your laws leave them no ambition but that of avarice," replied almamen; "and as the plant will crook and distort its trunk, to raise its head through every obstacle to the sun, so the mind of man twists and perverts itself, if legitimate openings are denied it, to find its natural element in the gale of power, or the sunshine of esteem. these hebrews were not traffickers and misers in their own sacred land when they routed your ancestors, the arab armies of old; and gnawed the flesh from their bones in famine, rather than yield a weaker city than granada to a mightier force than the holiday lords of spain. let this pass. my lord rejects the belief in the agencies of the angels; doth he still retain belief in the wisdom of mortal men?" "yes!" returned boabdil, quickly; "for of the one i know nought; of the other, mine own senses can be the judge. almamen, my fiery kinsman, muza, hath this evening been with me. he hath urged me to reject the fears of my people, which chain my panting spirit within these walls; he hath urged me to gird on yonder shield and cimiter, and to appear in the vivarrambla, at the head of the nobles of granada. my heart leaps high at the thought! and if i cannot live, at least i will die--a king!" "it is nobly spoken," said almamen, coldly. "you approve, then, my design?" "the friends of the king cannot approve the ambition of the king to die." "ha!" said boabdil, in an altered voice, "thou thinkest, then, that i am doomed to perish in this struggle?" "as the hour shall be chosen, wilt thou fall or triumph." "and that hour?" "is not yet come." "dost thou read the hour in the stars?" "let moorish seers cultivate that frantic credulity: thy servant sees but in the stars worlds mightier than this little earth, whose light would neither wane nor wink, if earth itself were swept from the infinities of space." "mysterious man!" said boabdil; "whence, then, is thy power?--whence thy knowledge of the future?" almamen approached the king, as he now stood by the open balcony. "behold!" said he, pointing to the waters of the darro--"yonder stream is of an element in which man cannot live nor breathe: above, in the thin and impalpable air, our steps cannot find a footing, the armies of all earth cannot build an empire. and yet, by the exercise of a little art, the fishes and the birds, the inhabitants of the air and the water, minister to our most humble wants, the most common of our enjoyments; so it is with the true science of enchantment. thinkest thou that, while the petty surface of the world is crowded with living things, there is no life in the vast centre within the earth, and the immense ether that surrounds it? as the fisherman snares his prey, as the fowler entraps the bird, so, by the art and genius of our human mind, we may thrall and command the subtler beings of realms and elements which our material bodies cannot enter--our gross senses cannot survey. this, then, is my lore. of other worlds know i nought; but of the things of this world, whether men, or, as your legends term them, ghouls and genii, i have learned something. to the future, i myself am blind; but i can invoke and conjure up those whose eyes are more piercing, whose natures are more gifted." "prove to me thy power," said boabdil, awed less by the words than by the thrilling voice and the impressive aspect of the enchanter. "is not the king's will my law?" answered almamen; "be his will obeyed. to-morrow night i await thee." "where?" almamen paused a moment, and then whispered a sentence in the king's ear: boabdil started, and turned pale. "a fearful spot!" "so is the alhambra itself, great boabdil; while ferdinand is without the walls and muza within the city." "muza! darest thou mistrust my bravest warrior?" "what wise king will trust the idol of the king's army? did boabdil fall to-morrow by a chance javelin, in the field, whom would the nobles and the warriors place upon his throne? doth it require an enchanter's lore to whisper to thy heart the answer in the name of 'muza'?" "oh, wretched state! oh, miserable king!" exclaimed boabdil, in a tone of great anguish. "i never had a father. i have now no people; a little while, and i shall have no country. am i never to have a friend?" "a friend! what king ever had?" returned almamen, drily. "away, man--away!" cried boabdil, as the impatient spirit of his rank and race shot dangerous fire from his eyes; "your cold and bloodless wisdom freezes up all the veins of my manhood! glory, confidence, human sympathy, and feeling--your counsels annihilate them all. leave me! i would be alone." "we meet to-morrow, at midnight, mighty boabdil," said almamen, with his usual unmoved and passionless tones. "may the king live for ever." the king turned; but his monitor had already disappeared. he went as he came--noiseless and sudden as a ghost. chapter iii. the lovers. when muza parted from almamen, he bent his steps towards the hill that rises opposite the ascent crowned with the towers of the alhambra; the sides and summit of which eminence were tenanted by the luxurious population of the city. he selected the more private and secluded paths; and, half way up the hill, arrived, at last, before a low wall of considerable extent, which girded the gardens of some wealthier inhabitant of the city. he looked long and anxiously round; all was solitary; nor was the stillness broken, save as an occasional breeze, from the snowy heights of the sierra nevada, rustled the fragrant leaves of the citron and pomegranate; or as the silver tinkling of waterfalls chimed melodiously within the gardens. the moor's heart beat high: a moment more, and he had scaled the wall; and found himself upon a green sward, variegated by the rich colours of many a sleeping flower, and shaded by groves and alleys of luxuriant foliage and golden fruits. it was not long before he stood beside a house that seemed of a construction anterior to the moorish dynasty. it was built over low cloisters formed by heavy and timeworn pillars, concealed, for the most part by a profusion of roses and creeping shrubs: the lattices above the cloisters opened upon large gilded balconies, the super-addition of moriscan taste. in one only of the casements a lamp was visible; the rest of the mansion was dark, as if, save in that chamber, sleep kept watch over the inmates. it was to this window that the moor stole; and, after a moment's pause, he murmured rather than sang, so low and whispered was his voice, the following simple verses, slightly varied from an old arabian poet:-- light of my soul, arise, arise! thy sister lights are in the skies; we want thine eyes, thy joyous eyes; the night is mourning for thine eyes! the sacred verse is on my sword, but on my heart thy name the words on each alike adored; the truth of each the same, the same!--alas! too well i feel the heart is truer than the steel! light of my soul! upon me shine; night wakes her stars to envy mine. those eyes of thine, wild eyes of thine, what stars are like those eyes of thine? as he concluded, the lattice softly opened; and a female form appeared on the balcony. "ah, leila!" said the moor, "i see thee, and i am blessed!" "hush!" answered leila; "speak low, nor tarry long i fear that our interviews are suspected; and this," she added in a trembling voice, "may perhaps be the last time we shall meet." "holy prophet!" exclaimed muza, passionately, "what do i hear? why this mystery? why cannot i learn thine origin, thy rank, thy parents? think you, beautiful leila, that granada holds a rouse lofty enough to disdain the alliance with muza ben abil gazan? and oh!" he added (sinking the haughty tones of his voice into accents of the softest tenderness), "if not too high to scorn me, what should war against our loves and our bridals? for worn equally on my heart were the flower of thy sweet self, whether the mountain top or the valley gave birth to the odour and the bloom." "alas!" answered leila, weeping, "the mystery thou complainest of is as dark to myself as thee. how often have i told thee that i know nothing of my birth or childish fortunes, save a dim memory of a more distant and burning clime; where, amidst sands and wastes, springs the everlasting cedar, and the camel grazes on stunted herbage withering in the fiery air? then, it seemed to me that i had a mother: fond eyes looked on me, and soft songs hushed me into sleep." "thy mother's soul has passed into mine," said the moor, tenderly. leila continued:--"borne hither, i passed from childhood into youth within these walls. slaves ministered to my slightest wish; and those who have seen both state and poverty, which i have not, tell me that treasures and splendour, that might glad a monarch, are prodigalised around me: but of ties and kindred know i little: my father, a stern and silent man, visits me but rarely--sometimes months pass, and i see him not; but i feel he loves me; and, till i knew thee, muza, my brightest hours were in listening to the footsteps and flying to the arms of that solitary friend." "know you not his name?" "nor, i nor any one of the household; save perhaps ximen, the chief of the slaves, an old and withered man, whose very eye chills me into fear and silence." "strange!" said the moor, musingly; "yet why think you our love is discovered, or can be thwarted?" "hush! ximen sought me this day: 'maiden,' said he, 'men's footsteps have been tracked within the gardens; if your sire know this, you will have looked your last on granada. learn,' he added, in a softer voice, as he saw me tremble, 'that permission were easier given to thee to wed the wild tiger than to mate with the loftiest noble of morisca! beware!' he spoke, and left me. o muza!" she continued, passionately wringing her hands, "my heart sinks within me, and omen and doom rise dark before my sight!" "by my father's head, these obstacles but fire my love, and i would scale to thy possession, though every step in the ladder were the corpses of a hundred foes!" scarcely had the fiery and high-souled moor uttered his boast, than, from some unseen hand amidst the groves, a javelin whirred past him, and as the air it raised came sharp upon his cheek, half buried its quivering shaft in the trunk of a tree behind him. "fly, fly, and save thyself! o god, protect him!" cried leila; and she vanished within the chamber. the moor did not wait the result of a deadlier aim; he turned; yet, in the instinct of his fierce nature, not from, but against, the foe; his drawn scimitar in his hand, the half-suppressed cry of wrath trembling on his lips, he sprang forward in the direction the javelin had sped. with eyes accustomed to the ambuscades of moorish warfare, he searched eagerly, yet warily through the dark and sighing foliage. no sign of life met his gaze; and at length, grimly and reluctantly, he retraced his steps, and quitted the demesnes; but just as he had cleared the wall, a voice--low, but sharp and shrill--came from the gardens. "thou art spared," it said, "but, haply, for a more miserable doom!" chapter iv. the father and daughter. the chamber into which leila retreated bore out the character she had given of the interior of her home. the fashion of its ornament and decoration was foreign to that adopted by the moors of granada. it had a more massive and, if we may use the term, egyptian gorgeousness. the walls were covered with the stuffs of the east, stiff with gold, embroidered upon ground of the deepest purple; strange characters, apparently in some foreign tongue, were wrought in the tesselated cornices and on the heavy ceiling, which was supported by square pillars, round which were twisted serpents of gold and enamel, with eyes to which enormous emeralds gave a green and lifelike glare: various scrolls and musical instruments lay scattered upon marble tables: and a solitary lamp of burnished silver cast a dim and subdued light around the chamber. the effect of the whole, though splendid, was gloomy, strange, and oppressive, and rather suited to the thick and cave-like architecture which of old protected the inhabitants of thebes and memphis from the rays of the african sun, than to the transparent heaven and light pavilions of the graceful orientals of granada. leila stood within this chamber, pale and breathless, with her lips apart, her hands clasped, her very soul in her ears; nor was it possible to conceive a more perfect ideal of some delicate and brilliant peri, captured in the palace of a hostile and gloomy genius. her form was of the lightest shape consistent with the roundness of womanly beauty; and there was something in it of that elastic and fawnlike grace which a sculptor seeks to embody in his dreams of a being more aerial than those of earth. her luxuriant hair was dark indeed, but a purple and glossy hue redeemed it from that heaviness of shade too common in the tresses of the asiatics; and her complexion, naturally pale but clear and lustrous, would have been deemed fair even in the north. her features, slightly aquiline, were formed in the rarest mould of symmetry, and her full rich lips disclosed teeth that might have shamed the pearl. but the chief charm of that exquisite countenance was in an expression of softness and purity, and intellectual sentiment, that seldom accompanies that cast of loveliness, and was wholly foreign to the voluptuous and dreamy languor of moorish maidens; leila had been educated, and the statue had received a soul. after a few minutes of intense suspense, she again stole to the lattice, gently unclosed it, and looked forth. far, through an opening amidst the trees, she descried for a single moment the erect and stately figure of her lover, darkening the moonshine on the sward, as now, quitting his fruitless search, he turned his lingering gaze towards the lattice of his beloved: the thick and interlacing foliage quickly hid him from her eyes; but leila had seen enough--she turned within, and said, as grateful tears trickled clown her cheeks, and she sank on her knees upon the piled cushions of the chamber: "god of my fathers! i bless thee--he is safe!" "and yet (she added, as a painful thought crossed her), how may i pray for him? we kneel not to the same divinity; and i have been taught to loathe and shudder at his creed! alas! how will this end? fatal was the hour when he first beheld me in yonder gardens; more fatal still the hour in which he crossed the barrier, and told leila that she was beloved by the hero whose arm was the shelter, whose name is the blessing, of granada. ah, me! ah, me!" the young maiden covered her face with her hands, and sank into a passionate reverie, broken only by her sobs. some time had passed in this undisturbed indulgence of her grief, when the arras was gently put aside, and a man, of remarkable garb and mien, advanced into the chamber, pausing as he beheld her dejected attitude, and gazing on her with a look on which pity and tenderness seemed to struggle against habitual severity and sternness. "leila!" said the intruder. leila started, and and a deep blush suffused her countenance; she dashed the tears from her eyes, and came forward with a vain attempt to smile. "my father, welcome!" the stranger seated himself on the cushions, and motioned leila to his side. "these tears are fresh upon thy cheek," said he, gravely; "they are the witness of thy race! our daughters are born to weep, and our sons to groan! ashes are on the head of the mighty, and the fountains of the beautiful run with gall! oh that we could but struggle--that we could but dare--that we could raise up, our heads, and unite against the bondage of the evil doer! it may not be--but one man shall avenge a nation!" the dark face of leila's father, well fitted to express powerful emotion, became terrible in its wrath and passion; his brow and lip worked convulsively; but the paroxsym was brief; and scarce could she shudder at its intensity ere it had subsided into calm. "enough of these thoughts, which thou, a woman and a child, art not formed to witness. leila, thou hast been nurtured with tenderness, and schooled with care. harsh and unloving may i have seemed to thee, but i would have shed the best drops of my heart to have saved thy young years from a single pang. nay, listen to me silently. that thou mightest one day be worthy of thy race, and that thine hours might not pass in indolent and weary lassitude, thou hast been taught lessons of a knowledge rarely to thy sex. not thine the lascivious arts of the moorish maidens; not thine their harlot songs, and their dances of lewd delight; thy delicate limbs were but taught the attitude that nature dedicates to the worship of a god, and the music of thy voice was tuned to the songs of thy fallen country, sad with the memory of her wrongs, animated with the names of her heroes, with the solemnity of her prayers. these scrolls, and the lessons of our seers, have imparted to thee such of our science and our history as may fit thy mind to aspire, and thy heart to feel for a sacred cause. thou listenest to me, leila?" perplexed and wondering, for never before had her father addressed her in such a strain, the maiden answered with an earnestness of manner that seemed to content the questioner; and he resumed, with an altered, hollow, solemn voice: "then curse the persecutors. daughter of the great hebrew race, arise and curse the moorish taskmaster and spoiler!" as he spoke, the adjuror himself rose, lifting his right hand on high; while his left touched the shoulder of the maiden. but she, after gazing a moment in wild and terrified amazement upon his face, fell cowering at his knees; and, clasping them imploringly, exclaimed in scarce articulate murmurs: "oh, spare me! spare me!" the hebrew, for such he was, surveyed her, as she thus quailed at his feet, with a look of rage and scorn: his hand wandered to his poniard, he half unsheathed it, thrust it back with a muttered curse, and then, deliberately drawing it forth, cast it on the ground beside her. "degenerate girl!" he said, in accents that vainly struggled for calm, "if thou hast admitted to thy heart one unworthy thought towards a moorish infidel, dig deep and root it out, even with the knife, and to the death--so wilt thou save this hand from that degrading task." he drew himself hastily from her grasp, and left the unfortunate girl alone and senseless. chapter v. ambition distorted into vice by law. on descending a broad flight of stairs from the apartment, the hebrew encountered an old man, habited in loose garments of silk and fur, upon whose withered and wrinkled face life seemed scarcely to struggle against the advance of death--so haggard, wan, and corpse-like was its aspect. "ximen," said the israelite, "trusty and beloved servant, follow me to the cavern." he did not tarry for an answer, but continued his way with rapid strides through various courts and alleys, till he came at length into a narrow, dark, and damp gallery, that seemed cut from the living rock. at its entrance was a strong grate, which gave way to the hebrew's touch upon the spring, though the united strength of a hundred men could not have moved it from its hinge. taking up a brazen lamp that burnt in a niche within it, the hebrew paused impatiently till the feeble steps of the old man reached the spot; and then, reclosing the grate, pursued his winding way for a considerable distance, till he stopped suddenly by a part of the rock which seemed in no respect different from the rest: and so artfully contrived and concealed was the door which he now opened, and so suddenly did it yield to his hand, that it appeared literally the effect of enchantment, when the rock yawned, and discovered a circular cavern, lighted with brazen lamps, and spread with hangings and cushions of thick furs. upon rude and seemingly natural pillars of rock, various antique and rusty arms were suspended; in large niches were deposited scrolls, clasped and bound with iron; and a profusion of strange and uncouth instruments and machines (in which modern science might, perhaps, discover the tools of chemical invention) gave a magical and ominous aspect to the wild abode. the hebrew cast himself on a couch of furs; and, as the old man entered and closed the door, "ximen," said he, "fill out wine--it is a soothing counsellor, and i need it." extracting from one of the recesses of the cavern a flask and goblet, ximen offered to his lord a copious draught of the sparkling vintage of the vega, which seemed to invigorate and restore him. "old man," said he, concluding the potation with a deep-drawn sigh, "fill to thyself-drink till thy veins feel young." ximen obeyed the mandate but imperfectly; the wine just touched his lips, and the goblet was put aside. "ximen," resumed the israelite, "how many of our race have been butchered by the avarice of the moorish kings since first thou didst set foot within the city?" "three thousand--the number was completed last winter, by the order of jusef the vizier; and their goods and coffers are transformed into shafts and cimiters against the dogs of galilee." "three thousand--no more! three thousand only! i would the number had been tripled, for the interest is becoming due!" "my brother, and my son, and my grandson, are among the number," said the old man, and his face grew yet more deathlike. "their monuments shall be in hecatombs of their tyrants. they shall not, at least, call the jews niggards in revenge." "but pardon me, noble chief of a fallen people; thinkest thou we shall be less despoiled and trodden under foot by yon haughty and stiff-necked nazarenes, than by the arabian misbelievers?" "accursed, in truth, are both," returned the hebrew; "but the one promise more fairly than the other. i have seen this ferdinand, and his proud queen; they are pledged to accord us rights and immunities we have never known before in europe." "and they will not touch our traffic, our gains, our gold?" "out on thee!" cried the fiery israelite, stamping on the ground. "i would all the gold of earth were sunk into the everlasting pit! it is this mean, and miserable, and loathsome leprosy of avarice, that gnaws away from our whole race the heart, the soul, nay--the very form, of man! many a time, when i have seen the lordly features of the descendants of solomon and joshua (features that stamp the nobility of the eastern world born to mastery and command) sharpened and furrowed by petty cares,--when i have looked upon the frame of the strong man bowed, like a crawling reptile, to some huckstering bargainer of silks and unguents,--and heard the voice, that should be raising the battle-cry, smoothed into fawning accents of base fear, or yet baser hope,--i have asked myself, if i am indeed of the blood of israel! and thanked the great jehovah that he hath spared me at least the curse that hath blasted my brotherhood into usurers and slaves" ximen prudently forbore an answer to enthusiasm which he neither shared nor understood; but, after a brief silence, turned back the stream of the conversation. "you resolve, then, upon prosecuting vengeance on the moors, at whatsoever hazard of the broken faith of these nazarenes?" "ay, the vapour of human blood hath risen unto heaven, and, collected into thunder-clouds, hangs over the doomed and guilty city. and now, ximen, i have a new cause for hatred to the moors: the flower that i have reared and watched, the spoiler hath sought to pluck it from my hearth. leila--thou hast guarded her ill, ximen; and, wert thou not endeared to me by thy very malice and vices, the rising sun should have seen thy trunk on the waters of the darro." "my lord," replied ximen, "if thou, the wisest of our people, canst not guard a maiden from love, how canst thou see crime in the dull eyes and numbed senses of a miserable old man?" the israelite did not answer, nor seem to hear this deprecatory remonstrance. he appeared rather occupied with his own thoughts; and, speaking to himself, he muttered, "it must be so: the sacrifice is hard-- the danger great; but here, at least, it is more immediate. it shall be done. ximen," he continued, speaking aloud; "dost thou feel assured that even mine own countrymen, mine own tribe, know me not as one of them? were my despised birth and religion published, my limbs would be torn asunder as an impostor; and all the arts of the cabala could not save me." "doubt not, great master; none in granada, save thy faithful ximen, know thy secret." "so let me dream and hope. and now to my work; for this night must be spent in toil." the hebrew drew before him some of the strange instruments we have described; and took from the recesses in the rock several scrolls. the old man lay at his feet, ready to obey his behests; but, to all appearance, rigid and motionless as the dead, whom his blanched hues and shrivelled form resembled. it was, indeed, as the picture of the enchanter at his work, and the corpse of some man of old, revived from the grave to minister to his spells, and execute his commands. enough in the preceding conversation has transpired to convince the reader, that the hebrew, in whom he has already detected the almamen of the alhambra, was of no character common to his tribe. of a lineage that shrouded itself in the darkness of his mysterious people, in their day of power, and possessed of immense wealth, which threw into poverty the resources of gothic princes,--the youth of that remarkable man had been spent, not in traffic and merchandise but travel and study. as a child, his home had been in granada. he had seen his father butchered by the late king, muley abul hassan, without other crime than his reputed riches; and his body literally cut open, to search for the jewels it was supposed he had swallowed. he saw, and, boy as he was he vowed revenge. a distant kinsman bore the orphan to lands more secure from persecution; and the art with which the jews concealed their wealth, scattering it over various cities, had secured to almamen the treasures the tyrant of granada had failed to grasp. he had visited the greater part of the world then known; and resided for many years at the court of the sultan of that hoary egypt, which still retained its fame for abstruse science and magic lore. he had not in vain applied himself to such tempting and wild researches; and had acquired many of those secrets now perhaps lost for ever to the world. we do not mean to intimate that he attained to what legend and superstition impose upon our faith as the art of sorcery. he could neither command the elements nor pierce the veil of the future-scatter armies with a word, nor pass from spot to spot by the utterance of a charmed formula. but men who, for ages, had passed their lives in attempting all the effects that can astonish and awe the vulgar, could not but learn some secrets which all the more sober wisdom of modern times would search ineffectually to solve or to revive. and many of such arts, acquired mechanically (their invention often the work of a chemical accident), those who attained to them could not always explain, not account for the phenomena they created, so that the mightiness of their own deceptions deceived themselves; and they often believed they were the masters of the nature to which they were, in reality, but erratic and wild disciples. of such was the student in that grim cavern. he was, in some measure, the dupe, partly of his own bewildered wisdom, partly of the fervour of an imagination exceedingly high-wrought and enthusiastic. his own gorgeous vanity intoxicated him: and, if it be an historical truth that the kings of the ancient world, blinded by their own power, had moments in which they believed themselves more than men, it is not incredible that sages, elevated even above kings, should conceive a frenzy as weak, or, it may be, as sublime: and imagine that they did not claim in vain the awful dignity with which the faith of the multitude invested their faculties and gifts. but, though the accident of birth, which excluded him from all field for energy and ambition, had thus directed the powerful mind of almamen to contemplation and study, nature had never intended passions so fierce for the calm, though visionary, pursuits to which he was addicted. amidst scrolls and seers, he had pined for action and glory; and, baffled in all wholesome egress, by the universal exclusion which, in every land, and from every faith, met the religion he belonged to, the faculties within him ran riot, producing gigantic but baseless schemes, which, as one after the other crumbled away, left behind feelings of dark misanthropy and intense revenge. perhaps, had his religion been prosperous and powerful, he might have been a sceptic; persecution and affliction made him a fanatic. yet, true to that prominent characteristic of the old hebrew race, which made them look to a messiah only as a warrior and a prince, and which taught them to associate all their hopes and schemes with worldly victories and power, almamen desired rather to advance, than to obey, his religion. he cared little for its precepts, he thought little of its doctrines; but, night and day, he revolved his schemes for its earthly restoration and triumph. at that time, the moors in spain were far more deadly persecutors of the jews than the christians were. amidst the spanish cities on the coast, that merchant tribe had formed commercial connections with the christians, sufficiently beneficial, both to individuals and to communities, to obtain for them, not only toleration, but something of personal friendship, wherever men bought and sold in the market-place. and the gloomy fanaticism which afterwards stained the fame of the great ferdinand, and introduced the horrors of the inquisition, had not yet made it self more than fitfully visible. but the moors had treated this unhappy people with a wholesale and relentless barbarity. at granada, under the reign of the fierce father of boabdil,--"that king with the tiger heart,"--the jews had been literally placed without the pale of humanity; and even under the mild and contemplative boabdil himself, they had been plundered without mercy, and, if suspected of secreting their treasures, massacred without scruple; the wants of the state continued their unrelenting accusers,--their wealth, their inexpiable crime. it was in the midst of these barbarities that almamen, for the first time since the day when the death-shriek of his agonised father rang in his ears, suddenly returned to granada. he saw the unmitigated miseries of his brethern, and he remembered and repeated his vow. his name changed, his kindred dead, none remembered, in the mature almamen, the beardless child of issachar, the jew. he had long, indeed, deemed it advisable to disguise his faith; and was known, throughout the african kingdoms, but as the potent santon, or the wise magician. this fame soon lifted him, in granada, high in the councils of the court. admitted to the intimacy of muley hassan, with boabdil, and the queen mother, he had conspired against that monarch; and had lived, at least, to avenge his father upon the royal murderer. he was no less intimate with boabdil; but steeled against fellowship or affection for all men out of the pale of his faith, he saw in the confidence of the king only the blindness of a victim. serpent as he was, he cared not through what mire of treachery and fraud he trailed his baleful folds, so that, at last, he could spring upon his prey. nature had given him sagacity and strength. the curse of circumstance had humbled, but reconciled him to the dust. he had the crawl of the reptile,--he had, also, its poison and its fangs. chapter vi. the lion in the net it was the next night, not long before daybreak, that the king of granada abruptly summoned to his council jusef, his vizier. the old man found boabdil in great disorder and excitement; but he almost deemed his sovereign mad, when he received from him the order to seize upon the person of muza ben abil gazan, and to lodge him in the strongest dungeon of the vermilion tower. presuming upon boabdil's natural mildness, the vizier ventured to remonstrate,--to suggest the danger of laying violent hands upon a chief so beloved,--and to inquire what cause should be assigned for the outrage. the veins swelled like cords upon boabdil's brow, as he listened to the vizier; and his answer was short and peremptory. "am i yet a king, that i should fear a subject, or excuse my will? thou hast my orders; there are my signet and the firman: obedience or the bow-string!" never before had boabdil so resembled his dread father in speech and air; the vizier trembled to the soles of his feet, and withdrew in silence. boabdil watched him depart; and then, clasping his hands in great emotion, exclaimed, "o lips of the dead! ye have warned me; and to you i sacrifice the friend of my youth." on quitting boabdil the vizier, taking with him some of those foreign slaves of a seraglio, who know no sympathy with human passion outside its walls, bent his way to the palace of muza, sorely puzzled and perplexed. he did not, however, like to venture upon the hazard of the alarm it might occasion throughout the neighbourhood, if he endeavoured, at so unseasonable an hour, to force an entrance. he resolved, rather, with his train to wait at a little distance, till, with the growing dawn, the gates should be unclosed, and the inmates of the palace astir. accordingly, cursing his stars, and wondering at his mission, jusef, and his silent and ominous attendants, concealed themselves in a small copse adjoining the palace, until the daylight fairly broke over the awakened city. he then passed into the palace; and was conducted to a hall, where he found the renowned moslem already astir, and conferring with some zegri captains upon the tactics of a sortie designed for that day. it was with so evident a reluctance and apprehension that jusef approached the prince, that the fierce and quick-sighted zegris instantly suspected some evil intention in his visit; and when muza, in surprise, yielded to the prayer of the vizier for a private audience, it was with scowling brows and sparkling eyes that the moorish warriors left the darling of the nobles alone with the messenger of their king. "by the tomb of the prophet!" said one of the zegris, as he quitted the hall, "the timid boabdil suspects our ben abil gazan. i learned of this before." "hush!" said another of the band; "let us watch. if the king touch a hair of muza's head, allah have mercy on his sins!" meanwhile, the vizier, in silence, showed to muza the firman and the signet; and then, without venturing to announce the place to which he was commissioned to conduct the prince, besought him to follow at once. muza changed colour, but not with fear. "alas!" said he, in a tone of deep sorrow, "can it be that i have fallen under my royal kinsman's suspicion or displeasure? but no matter; proud to set to granada an example of valour in her defence, be it mine to set, also, an example of obedience to her king. go on--i will follow thee. yet stay, you will have no need of guards; let us depart by a private egress: the zegris might misgive, did they see me leave the palace with you at the very time the army are assembling in the vivarrambla, and awaiting my presence. this way." thus saying, muza, who, fierce as he was, obeyed every impulse that the oriental loyalty dictated from a subject to a king, passed from the hall to a small door that admitted into the garden, and in thoughtful silence accompanied the vizier towards the alhambra. as they passed the copse in which muza, two nights before, had met with almamen, the moor, lifting his head suddenly, beheld fixed upon him the dark eyes of the magician, as he emerged from the trees. muza thought there was in those eyes a malign and hostile exultation; but almamen, gravely saluting him, passed on through the grove: the prince did not deign to look back, or he might once more have encountered that withering gaze. "proud heathen!" muttered almamen to himself, "thy father filled his treasuries from the gold of many a tortured hebrew; and even thou, too haughty to be the miser, hast been savage enough to play the bigot. thy name is a curse in israel; yet dost thou lust after the daughter of our despised race, and, could defeated passion sting thee, i were avenged. ay, sweep on, with thy stately step and lofty crest-thou goest to chains, perhaps to death." as almamen thus vented his bitter spirit, the last gleam of the white robes of muza vanished from his gaze. he paused a moment, turned away abruptly, and said, half aloud, "vengeance, not on one man only, but a whole race! now for the nazarene." the lily of leyden, by w.h.g. kingston. ________________________________________________________________________ ________________________________________________________________________ the lily of leyden, by w.h.g. kingston. chapter one. the warm sun of a bright spring day, in the year of grace , shone down on the beautiful city of leyden, on its spacious squares and streets and its elegant mansions, its imposing churches, and on the smooth canals which meandered among them, fed by the waters of the sluggish rhine. the busy citizens were engaged in their various occupations, active and industrious as ever; barges and boats lay at the quays loading or unloading, some having come from rotterdam, delft, amsterdam, and other places on the zuyder zee, with which her watery roads gave her easy communication. the streets were thronged with citizens of all ranks, some in gay, most in sombre attire, moving hurriedly along, bent rather on business than on pleasure, while scattered here and there were a few soldiers--freebooters as they were called, though steady and reliable--and men of the burgher guard, forming part of the garrison of the town. conspicuous among them might have been seen their dignified and brave burgomaster, adrian van der werf, as he walked with stately pace, his daughter jaqueline, appropriately called the lily of leyden, leaning on his arm. she was fair and graceful as the flower from which she derived her name, her features chiselled in the most delicate mould, her countenance intelligent and animated, though at present graver than usual. after leaving their house in the broedestrat, the principal street of leyden, they proceeded towards an elevation in the centre of the city, on the summit of which rose the ancient tower of hengist, generally so called from the belief that the anglo-saxon conquerors of britain crossed over from holland. mynheer van der werf and jaqueline reaching the foot of the mound, slowly ascended by a flight of winding steps, till they gained the battlements on the top of the ancient tower, the highest spot for many miles around. here they stood for some minutes gazing over the level country, of which they commanded a perfect panoramic view. below them lay the city, surrounded by a moat of considerable width and stout walls, which had already been proved capable of resisting the attack of foes eager to gain an entrance. here and there bridges led over the moat, protected by forts of no mean strength. in all directions were silvery threads glittering in the sun, marking the course of the canals which led to haarlem and amsterdam on the north, and delft, rotterdam, gouda, and many other towns on the banks of the yessel and the meuse on the south, while occasionally wide shining expanses showed the existence of meers or lakes of more or less extent, while westward the blue ocean could be seen, and to the south-west gravenhague, or the hague, as the place is more generally called. on every side were smiling villages, blooming gardens, corn-fields, and orchards, betokening the industry and consequent prosperity of the inhabitants. the city at this time bore but few traces of the protracted siege it had endured for a whole year, and which had been raised only three months before, when the spanish force under valdez, a lieutenant of the ferocious alva, had been summoned to the frontier, in consequence of the rumoured approach of a patriot army under prince louis of nassau. at the period when our story commences, the heroic prince william of orange, loyally aided by his brothers, louis, henry, and john, and by other noble patriots, had struggled for seven long years to emancipate holland from the cruel yoke imposed upon her by the bigot philip of spain and the sanguinary duke of alva. their success had been varied; though frequently defeated, they had again rallied to carry on the desperate struggle. several of their most flourishing cities had been besieged by the hated foe, some had fallen, and the inhabitants had been mercilessly slaughtered; others had successfully resisted, and the spaniards had been compelled to retire from their walls. count louis had been defeated in a campaign in friesland, but had escaped into germany, where he had lost no time in endeavouring to raise another army. the prince of orange himself was then in possession of rotterdam, delft, and the intermediate country. between those two cities was the important fortress of polderwaert, which secured him in the control of the quadrangle watered on two sides by the yessel and maas or meuse. the spaniards meantime occupied the coast from the hague to vlaardingen, on the bank of the maas. it should be understood that the country extending northward from the rivers which have been mentioned towards leyden was generally level, and considerably lower than the ocean, which was kept out by enormous banks or dykes, and that it had been, by the industry of the inhabitants, brought under a perfect state of cultivation. there were certain spots, however, raised slightly above the surrounding flat, on all of which villages had been built. enormous sluices existed at rotterdam, schiedam, and other places, by which the supply of water in the canals could be regulated; over these, as well as the dykes along the banks of the river, the prince of orange held perfect control. besides the small force which enabled him to hold rotterdam and delft, he possessed a fleet of broad, flat-bottomed vessels, well suited for the navigation of the shallow waters of zealand, where, under the brave and able admiral boisot, they were able to bid defiance to the ships sent against them by the spaniards. their crews consisted of those hardy sons of the ocean who, under the name of "the beggars of the sea," had already rendered such good service in the cause of freedom by the capture of brill, the first place in holland where the prince of orange was proclaimed stadtholder, and in many other enterprises, when, according to their rule, no quarter was given to their hated foe. besides rotterdam, delft, and leyden, many other towns in various parts of holland were garrisoned by the partisans of the prince of orange, and had either, with some exceptions, not been attacked by the spaniards, or had successfully resisted the forces sent against them. two, unhappily, had fallen; the fearful cruelties to which their inhabitants had been subjected by their conquerors showed the others what they must expect should they be unable to hold out. of these, in naarden, a small city on the coast of the zuyder zee, scarcely a man had been left alive, the whole population having been given over to indiscriminate slaughter. haarlem, after an heroic defence of seven months, had been compelled to capitulate, when, notwithstanding the promises of don frederic, alva's son, a large number of the principal citizens, as well as others of all ranks, and every man who had borne arms, were cruelly put to death, the survivors being treated with the greatest cruelty. the mind shrinks from contemplating such horrors, and the hollanders might well desire to emancipate themselves from the rule of a sovereign capable of allowing them. the burgomaster and his daughter had stood for some minutes without speaking, their eyes gazing down on the smiling landscape which has been described, yet the minds of neither of them had been engaged in admiring its beauties. "would that i had been more determined in endeavouring to induce our citizens to level those forts and redoubts left by the spaniards, and had also taken steps to re-victual the city and to strengthen our garrison. i have just received a letter from our noble stadtholder, urging me to see to these matters, and i must do so without delay." the burgomaster, as he spoke, pointed to several redoubts and forts which in different directions had been thrown up by the spaniards during their former investment of the place. to the south-east and east were two of especial strength--zoeterwoude and lammen, the first about yards from the walls, the latter not more than half that distance. from these forts a bank or causeway ran westward towards the hague. "i ought to have exerted all the influence i possessed to get the task accomplished," continued the burgomaster. "by god's merciful providence we were before preserved, but he helps those who, trusting to him, labour as he would have them. the spaniards may not return, but it is our duty to be prepared for them, though i trust that we shall soon hear of a glorious victory gained over them by the noble count louis." "heaven defend him and his brave troops," murmured jaqueline; and she thought of one who had accompanied the count to the field and who had from his earliest days engaged in the desperate struggle both at sea and on shore. again the burgomaster was silent, and jaqueline's thoughts wandered far away to the army of count louis. the chief magistrate had come up, as was his wont, to consider the measures which it might be necessary to take for the benefit of the city over which he presided. here, under ordinary circumstances, he was not likely to be interrupted by visitors. jaqueline's thoughts were recalled to the present moment by hearing a light footstep ascending the stairs of the tower. a young boy appeared, whose dress showed that he belonged to the upper orders, his countenance animated and intelligent. "why, albert van der does, what has brought you here in so great a hurry?" asked jaqueline, as she cast a glance at the boy's handsome face glowing with the exertion he had made. "i had gone to your house, and finding that you had come up here, i thought you would give me leave to follow you," he answered. "you have taken the leave, at all events," she said, smiling; "but what object had you in coming here this morning?" "a very important one; i want you to accept the remainder of my pigeons; those i before gave you have become so tame and look so happy that i am unwilling to deprive the others of the privilege of belonging to you." "is it only affection for your feathered friends that induces you to make me the offer?" she asked, archly. "i confess that i have another reason," he answered. "i shall no longer have time to attend to my pets; i heard my father say that we shall soon be engaged in more stirring work than we have had since the spaniards marched to the eastward. as soon as count louis forms a junction with the prince, every person capable of bearing arms should be prepared to engage in the struggle, and i want, therefore, to practice the use of weapons and to learn to be a soldier." "you will make a brave one, i am sure," said jaqueline. "and will you accept my birds?" asked albert. "i cannot refuse what you so freely offer, though, if you repent, you shall have them again," said jaqueline. "then may i bring them to you this evening?" asked albert. "thank you, albert; we are always glad to see you; and if you bring your pigeons, i promise to train and pet them as i have those you before gave me," she answered. "then i will come this very evening, with your cousin berthold, whom i left at his books in my father's study. fond as he is of his books, he says that he must lay them aside to learn the use of arms with me; for as soon as count louis appears, we intend to go out and join him. we have but a short time to prepare, as, before many days are over, the count and his army will have fought their way to delft, and we must commence the work of driving the spaniards out of our country or into the rivers and meers, where they have sent so many of our brave hollanders." jaqueline smiled approvingly, admiring, as she did, the enthusiasm of the gallant boy, so consonant with her own feelings. "i am much obliged to you for your readiness to accept my birds, and now i must deliver a message i have brought from my father to the burgomaster. my father desires to see him about the fortifications, and as he bade me say that the matter is of importance, i ought to have given it first." the burgomaster had been so pre-occupied with his own thoughts that he had not observed young albert van der does, and now started as the boy addressed him with that deference due to his age and rank. "tell your father that i will at once visit him. although a man of letters and devoted to study, i know that he possesses, among his other talents, a military genius, which makes me value his opinion; say also that it is the very subject which has been occupying my thoughts." "my father is more out of spirits than i have ever seen him," said albert. "it is owing to a letter he lately received from a friend at utrecht, detailing an extraordinary circumstance which occurred in that city some time ago. it is said that five soldiers of the burgher guard were on their midnight watch, when, the rest of the sky being as dark as pitch, they observed, directly over their heads, a clear space, equal in extent to the length of the city, and of several yards in width. suddenly two armies, in battle array were seen advancing upon each other; one moved rapidly up from the north-west, with banners waving, spears flashing, trumpets sounding, accompanied by heavy artillery and squadrons of cavalry; the other came slowly from the south-east. they at length met and joined in a desperate conflict for a few moments; the shouts of the combatants, the heavy discharge of cannon, the rattle of musketry, the tramp of foot soldiers, the rush of cavalry, were distinctly heard. the very firmament trembled with the shock of the contending hosts, and was lurid with the fire of their artillery. then the north-western army was beaten back in disorder, but, rallying again, formed into solid column, and once more advanced towards the south-eastern army, which was formed into a closely-serried square, with spears and muskets. once more the fight raged, and the sounds were heard as distinctly as before; the struggle was but short, the lances of the south-eastern army snapped like hemp-sticks, and their firm columns went down together in mass beneath the onset of their foes. the overthrow was complete. scarcely had the victors and vanquished vanished, than the clear blue space where they had stood appeared suddenly streaked with broad crimson streams flowing athwart the sky. the five soldiers reported the next day what they had witnessed to the magistrates of utrecht, who examined them separately, and each swore to what he had seen. my father said that he should not have been inclined to believe the account had not the evidence been so strong in favour of its truth." "this is strange," observed the burgomaster. "your father will assuredly show me the letter, and i shall then the better be able to judge how far i can give the account credence. we know that strange portents have appeared in the sky before great events, at the same time these men of the burgher guard may have allowed their imaginations to run riot. they knew that a battle was likely ere long to take place should the spaniards attempt to impede the march of count louis, and some passing clouds may have appeared to them to represent the scene they have described. grant that they beheld something extraordinary, yet they may have been mistaken, and the south-eastern army--for from that direction the count must be advancing--may prove victorious." "my father would fain hope as you do, mynheer van der werf, but his friend, one of the magistrates of utrecht, fully believes in the apparition, and has imbued him with his own desponding spirit." "bear to him my regards, and beg him to cheer up," said the burgomaster. "he must not allow his brave spirit to be agitated by a tale which may after all have originated in the heated imaginations of a few ignorant men. had the whole city witnessed the spectacle it might have been different." while the burgomaster and jaqueline were looking out from the summit of hengist's tower, two gentlemen approached it from opposite directions; the one was of good figure, handsomely dressed in silken doublet and cloak, with a feather in his cap, and a rapier, apparently more for ornament than use, by his side. he walked with no laggard step, looking up ever and anon towards the top of the tower. the other came on at still greater speed, his appearance contrasting greatly with that of the first; a heavy sword hung by his side, and over his shoulders was an orange sash, which partly covered a breastplate showing many a deep dent, while his dress was travel-stained and bespattered with dark red marks, while his frank and open countenance wore an expression of grief and anxiety. the two as they met exchanged salutes, the manner of the latter being hurried, as if he desired not to be stopped. "why, what has happened, captain van der elst?" exclaimed the young gallant who has just been introduced. "i am in search of the burgomaster, and have been told that he was seen going to the tower of hengist," said the other, without answering the question. "i am also bound there, and will gladly accompany you," was the reply. "pardon me, van arenberg, but the business i am on is of too great importance to brook delay." and karl van der elst sprang on up the ascent at a rate which baron van arenberg, without lowering his dignity, could not venture to imitate. a blush rose for a moment on the lily's fair cheek as she saw him coming; her countenance, however, the next moment assumed an expression of alarm when she remarked his appearance. he bowed as he approached, gazing at her with a look of sorrow in his dark eyes which did not tend to reassure her, and without offering any other greeting, much as he might have desired it, he addressed himself to the burgomaster, who inquired in an anxious tone, "what news do you bring, captain van der elst? has count louis defeated the spaniards? has he yet formed a junction with the prince?" the young officer, his feelings almost mastering him, could with difficulty reply, "count louis with his brother, count henry, the brave duke christopher, and the whole army have been annihilated. we met the foe near the village of mookie, where we were hemmed in; in vain we tried to cut our way through the ranks of the spaniards. count louis, his brother, and duke christopher, with four thousand gallant men, fell in the attempt. i had just before been despatched to make a circuit in order to get upon the enemy's flank, which i was ordered to attack. before i could reach it the day was lost; the victorious cavalry of the spaniards charged over the field, butchering all they met. many of our men were suffocated in the marshes or in the river, and others were burnt in the farmhouses where they had taken refuge. finding that success was hopeless, and that i could do nothing to retrieve the day, i drew off my shattered troop, and i have deemed it my duty to hasten on to warn the inhabitants of leyden that the enemy are rapidly advancing again to lay siege to their walls." at first the burgomaster seemed inclined to discredit the intelligence. "surely all could not have been destroyed, some of the soldiers may have cut their way through, and escaped as you have done?" karl shook his head. "i obtained too distinct a view of the fatal field to allow me to indulge in such a hope," he answered. "i would gladly have sought for an honourable death myself among my friends had i not reflected that the safety of my brave band depended on me, and that we might yet render service to our country." while he was speaking, baron van arenberg joined the party, and, after saluting jaqueline in a self-confident manner, stood listening with a supercilious air to the young soldier. "that you have escaped from the field, captain van der elst, is evident; but i fain would doubt that so many brave men would have yielded to the spaniards," he observed. "they yielded not to the spaniards, but to death," answered captain van der elst. "i myself visited the field of slaughter at night, when the spaniards had withdrawn, in search of my beloved leader. his body, if it was there, lay among the heaps of slain, most of whom had been stripped by rapacious plunderers, and disfigured by the hoofs of the enemy's horses." "i believe your report, captain," said the burgomaster, stretching out his hand and pressing that of van der elst. "our duty is clear, not a moment is to be lost in preparing for the defence of our city, and the burghers of leyden must resist to the last. you will remain and aid us with your advice?" "would that i could," answered karl, glancing for a moment at jaqueline; "but i must hasten to the prince of orange, to give him a full account of the events which have taken place, and to receive his orders. bereaved as he is of his brothers, it is the duty of every true-hearted man to rally round him." "you are right," said the burgomaster; "but i must beg you to bear a message from me to the prince, requesting that he will allow you to return, and, if possible, to bring some men-at-arms with you. lay before him the weak state of our garrison; say that we have but five companies of the burgher guard and a small corps of freebooters; but that our walls are strong, the hearts of our citizens staunch, and that they will, i feel assured, fly to arms the instant they receive the summons. assure him that we will endeavour to imitate the example of the brave citizens of alkmaar, and hold out till he can send us succour." "i will faithfully deliver your message, mynheer, and you may rest assured that if it depends on my freedom of action i will gladly return to render you such assistance as i can give," answered captain van der elst, his countenance brightening as he spoke, his eyes once more turning towards jaqueline, who, with baron van der arenberg and albert, stood a little distance apart. "the citizens of leyden can well dispense with the service of one who, by his own showing, seems to have fled from the scene of battle," whispered van arenberg to jaqueline in too low a tone for captain van der elst to hear him. on hearing this, without replying, she turned away, and moved closer to her father. "he is as brave a soldier as ever lived," exclaimed albert, who had overheard the remark, his countenance flushing as he spoke. "my father knows and admires him, and was only the other day speaking of the many gallant deeds he has performed. he was with de la marck on board the fleet of the `beggars of the sea,' when they captured brill, he was at flushing when the standard of liberty was raised there, he assisted in the defence of alkmaar, and i scarcely know how many sea battles he has been engaged in, while he served with prince louis during his campaign in friesland; and i am very sure that it was his good fortune, or rather his courage and discretion, enabled him to escape from the battle of mookerheyde." the lily's bright eyes sparkled, and she gave albert an approving look as he was speaking. "you would make out this young captain a very amadis," said van arenberg, in a sarcastic tone. "your father must have obtained the report of his heroic deeds from himself i suspect, for i never heard him spoken of in the same laudatory manner." "why, baron, one would suppose, from the way you speak, that you were jealous of him," said albert, with the boldness of a brave boy who felt that he was defending a maligned friend. "you insinuate that he ran away from mookerheyde, and i am very sure that he did nothing of the sort. he went back to the field to look for the dead bodies of the count and his brother, and he could not have done that without running a great risk of being killed or taken prisoner, and it was not till he had assured himself of the sad fact that count louis and the rest were dead that he led off his men, and came here to give us warning that we might prepare for the enemy." the baron, whose features were flushed with annoyance, for jaqueline overheard all that was said, was about to make an angry reply, when the burgomaster called albert. "hasten to your father, my good albert, break the sad news you have heard, and say that i shall esteem it a favour if he will come forthwith to meet me at the council hall, as i would desire to have some time to speak with him on these matters before the rest of the councillors arrive. i will, on my way, send round to summon them, as we must lose no time in preparing to defend our city." albert, with the activity of youth, leaped down the steps, while the burgomaster prepared to descend with greater caution. "baron van arenberg," he said, "i must request you to escort my daughter to her home, while captain van der elst accompanies me to the stadhuis, as we have matters of importance to discuss on our way. i hope that you will afterwards join us there, and will offer your services to aid in the defence of the place." baron van arenberg expressed the honour and pleasure he felt at the charge committed to him, although jaqueline, while bowing her head in acquiescence, showed by her manner that the arrangement afforded her no especial satisfaction. the lily, as may be conjectured, had many admirers, for not only was she fair and graceful, with a sweet disposition, but it was supposed that she would inherit the wealth of the burgomaster; hitherto, however, as far as was known, her heart was untouched, and she had favoured no one. chapter two. on reaching the foot of the mound the burgomaster and captain van der elst proceeded to the stadhuis, while baron van arenberg accompanied jaqueline in the direction of her own house. she walked on, though with graceful step, far more rapidly than her companion wished, looking directly before her without turning her head, unless it was absolutely necessary to do so. "i am still not altogether satisfied as to the entire truth of the report brought by this young captain regarding the destruction of count louis and his army. the spanish troops are undoubtedly brave and disciplined, but it seems incredible to me that they should have cut to pieces in so short a time the large number of levies the count is reported to have had with him. if they allowed themselves to be so easily defeated all i can say is, that they deserved their fate. in my opinion it is a pity that we hollanders should so persistently hold out against the troops of our lawful sovereign; far better by yielding with a good grace to bring the fighting to an end." "and share the fate of the unhappy inhabitants of haarlem," answered jaqueline, for the first time turning her head and glancing at him with a look which betokened as much contempt as her features were capable of exhibiting. "think of the thousands of our countrymen who have been cruelly butchered because they were determined to hold fast to our protestant faith rather than confess that of our foreign tyrants. i should say, let every man and woman perish bravely, fighting to the last rather than basely give up their birthrights." "i will not venture to argue with you on that point, fair jaqueline," answered van arenberg. "i wish as much as any hollander can do to preserve our birthrights, as well as my castle and broad estates, but i assure you that you underrate the power of the spaniards. our cause, the patriot cause, is desperate; it is on account of the deep admiration i feel for you, if i may use no warmer term, that i would save you from the horrors to which others have been exposed." "i speak the sentiments held by my father and every right-minded man in our city--ay! and woman too," answered jaqueline, in a firm tone. "we would imitate our sisters in haarlem and alkmaar and join the citizens in defending our walls." "but should the city be again besieged--and it assuredly will be should the report of the total defeat of count louis prove correct--how can leyden hope to hold out against the disciplined and experienced troops of the king? the prince of orange has no force sufficient to relieve the city, and be assured that the fate which overtook haarlem will be that of leyden, though the inhabitants are not likely to be treated with that measure of forbearance which those of haarlem received." "if you speak of the measure of forbearance awarded to haarlem, that was small indeed," said jaqueline. "you seem to forget that every citizen of wealth was massacred, that every hollander who had borne arms in the siege was put to death, while many hundreds of other citizens were afterwards murdered by the savage spaniards who desired to strike terror into the hearts of the survivors. i should say, rather than submit to so terrible a fate, let us struggle to the last, and then perish amid the ruins of the town." "you are indeed, lovely jaqueline, worthy of being a heroine of romance, and already you inspire me with some of the enthusiasm which you feel, though i cannot pretend to believe that the efforts which the citizens of leyden may make will be crowned with success; yet believe me that i was prompted entirely by my earnest desire to preserve one i prize so highly and her family from impending destruction to give the advice i venture to offer." "i am well aware of the admiration in which you hold me, baron van arenberg," answered jaqueline, "but whatever are your motives, even were i certain that our cause is desperate, and i do not believe that it is (for i feel assured that god will prosper the right in the end), i would not by word or act counsel my father and the citizens of leyden to yield while a single man remains alive to strike a blow for freedom." gentle as jaqueline looked while she spoke, her voice and manner were firm and determined, while she showed that she was anxious to bring the discussion to an end. it might have afforded more encouragement to the baron had she endeavoured to win him over to the opinions she held, but beyond expressing them she made no attempt to do so. the baron, however, fancied that he was too well acquainted with the female heart to despair of success; he was young, good-looking, and wealthy, and as far as was known his moral character was irreproachable. the burgomaster, deceived by his plausible manners, trusted him fully, and considering from his rank and wealth that he would be a suitable husband for his fair daughter, invited him frequently to the house, and had always received him in a cordial manner. the baron had therefore good reason to believe that his suit would be successful. on reaching her father's house, jaqueline politely, though somewhat stiffly, thanked him for the service he had rendered in escorting her home, and the door opening, she entered without expressing the slightest wish that he would remain. he lingered, expecting that she would at last remember what he looked upon as her neglect, but she ascended the steps without further notice of him. he stamped impatiently as he walked away, muttering, "it is clear that i have a rival, or the fair lily would not treat my advances so coldly, supported, as she knows i am, by her father. instead of feeling honoured, as she ought, at being sought in marriage by a noble, she seems utterly regardless of my rank and personal qualifications. i am very sure that i can make myself as agreeable to women as can most men, and from her beauty alone, independent of her fortune, she is well worth winning, so i must not despair. still it will never do to have her cooped up in this hapless town should it be again invested by the spaniards; i have no fancy indeed to stay in it myself, and i must bend all my efforts towards finding the means of carrying her away before the siege commences. there is not a day, however, to be lost. she appears to have no fear herself, but i may work upon the feelings of her father, and induce him, for the sake of preserving her from the horrors of the siege, to entrust her to my care. i must venture upon some warmer expressions of love and devotion than i have hitherto exhibited, and by describing the horrible fate which may be hers should she remain, and the happiness which awaits her if she will consent to accompany me, as my wife, out of the country, i may induce her to yield more willingly than she at present seems inclined to do." such were the thoughts which occupied the mind of the baron as he proceeded with leisurely step towards the stadhuis, where he had no great desire to make his appearance, although having been expressly invited by the burgomaster he could not avoid going. he found the chief magistrates, most influential citizens, assembled. the burgomaster had informed them of the sad intelligence he had just received, and captain van der elst, at his desire, had described the battle and its disastrous termination. one circumstance alone afforded satisfaction, it was that count john, now the prince's only surviving brother, who had already done so much for the cause, although expecting to participate in the battle, had, at the urgent request of the other leaders, left the army two days before the action, in order to obtain at cologne money to pay the troops. the young captain had just finished his account. the first point to be settled was the selection of a military chief whom all would be ready to obey. the burgomaster rose. after expressing his readiness to devote his fortune, his life, and everything he possessed to the cause, he acknowledged that he had no military experience or talents, and urged upon his fellow-citizens the importance of selecting a man who possessed the talents in which he was wanting. "there is one," he said. "john van der does, seigneur of nordwyck, a gentleman of distinguished family, but still more distinguished for his learning, his poetical genius, his valour and military accomplishments; if we select him, the prince i am sure will sanction our appointment." without a dissentient voice the seigneur of nordwyck was elected military commandant. the burgomaster did not conceal from them the dangers and the sufferings which perchance they would have to undergo, but he added, "remember naarden, my friends, we cannot too often reflect on the fate of naarden; although the inhabitants offered no resistance, they were indiscriminately slaughtered, and such may be our lot even if we go humbly forth to sue for pardon from the conquerors of mookerheyde. remember haarlem, which, although defended with the heroism which ought to have inspired respect and consideration in the hearts of the conquerors, was treated with cruelties from the bare contemplation of which the mind shrinks back with horror; then let us think of alkmaar which so bravely and successfully resisted, and imitate the example of its citizens with the hope and confidence that we shall be equally successful in driving back the hated foe." other patriotic magistrates spoke in the same strain, and all were unanimous in their resolution to defend their city to the last, while it was agreed that steps should instantly be taken for that object. unhappily much precious time had already been lost; the forts and redoubts thrown up by the spaniards still remained, and at present the defenders of the city had too much to do within the walls to attempt levelling them. the new commandant urged them to strengthen the fortifications, and in the meantime to obtain such stores of provisions from the immediate neighbourhood as could be collected. there were a _few_, however, who, although they did not vote in opposition to the opinions of the majority, yet spoke of the hopelessness of the undertaking in which they were about to engage. among these was baron van arenberg, although he expressed himself carefully he did his best to persuade the citizens that their wisest course would be to yield before proceeding to extremities. "i say not that such is what i advise," he observed. "but conciliatory measures might prove successful; if they fail let us by all means endeavour to keep out the enemy as long as we can." "the spaniards have already shown us the uselessness of conciliatory measures as well as the utter worthlessness of their guarantees for the safety of those who submit," said the burgomaster. "it would be suicidal madness to trust them; let us put faith in god, who defends the right, in our own resolute courage and power of endurance, in our strong walls, and in the assistance which the prince of orange will afford us at our need." the baron was silent; he was especially anxious not to say anything which might offend the burgomaster by openly differing from him; but his remarks encouraged others connected with certain persons, their relations or friends, recreant hollanders, who had sided with the spaniards and professed to have returned to the faith of rome. these men were familiarly called glippers; their object was to induce their countrymen to follow their example. a few holding their opinions remained in the city, either kept there by business or with the intention of creating dissension among the patriots. although baron van arenberg openly professed to be a patriot, yet from the expressions he let fall many already began to suspect his designs. when those who followed him spoke, their opinions were received with loud expressions of disapprobation. he saw that in the present state of the public mind it would be prudent for the future more carefully to conceal his sentiments than he had hitherto done. "i must bide my time," he said to himself. numerous matters of importance were discussed, and the persons supposed best suited for certain duties were selected to superintend the various tasks which had to be performed to prepare the city for the expected siege. one undertook to procure cattle, another fodder, a third corn; others to collect arms and ammunition. the strengthening of the fortifications was allotted to several who had some experience in such matters. the guns and their carriages had to be looked to, such buildings as were suited for storehouses were to be prepared, and hospitals fitted up to receive the sick or wounded; indeed, no point was neglected. all these arrangements having been made, the brave john van der does, the newly-elected commandant, rose. "we have not concealed from ourselves the difficulties and dangers of the task we have undertaken," he said. "but, my friends and fellow-citizens, on god, on your stout arms, and on the energy of our prince we will rely to defend our city against all the foes who may appear before our walls," he exclaimed, as he drew his sword; and raising it above his head, he added, "never will i again sheathe this weapon till the hated spaniard has been driven from our country, and we may henceforth repose in peace." chapter three. not a moment was lost after the council broke up in commencing the all-important tasks which each member had undertaken. the burgomaster, however, did not forget the duties of hospitality; taking the arm of captain van der elst, he said-- "come with me, my friend, and partake of some refreshment, which you must sadly need. you have ridden hard all this morning, and have still a long journey to perform before you can reach rotterdam, with the risk of encountering marauding parties of spaniards, who may have ventured forth from gravenhague. i will give orders in the meantime that you may be provided with the best horse the city affords, for your own steed has scarcely had sufficient time to rest to carry you as rapidly as you desire on your journey." karl acknowledged that his horse was wellnigh knocked up, and thankfully accepted the burgomaster's invitation, though he was anxious not to delay a moment longer than was necessary before proceeding on his journey. directly the burgomaster, accompanied by van der elst, arrived at his house, the repast, which had long been ready, was placed on the table, and jaqueline appeared to preside at it. she received the young captain with less frankness than she might generally have bestowed on her father's friends. there was a slight timidity in her manner, which, in spite of herself, she could not help exhibiting, and a blush rose for a moment to her cheek as she replied to his greeting. "and are you able to remain and assist us in preparing for the defence of our town?" she asked. "would that i were able to remain," he answered. "but i must hurry on as fast as my steed can go to see the prince and to receive his directions for my future guidance; but i will not fail to suggest to him that i may be of service in assisting in the defence of leyden, and unless he should require me for important work elsewhere, i hope that he will allow me to return." "i trust so," murmured jaqueline, raising her eyes and casting a momentary glance at him. the meal was soon concluded, for captain van der elst was unwilling to spend a moment longer than was necessary at the table, though he would fain probably have enjoyed a longer conversation with jaqueline. he had to wait a short time for the arrival of his horse, which enabled him to exchange a few more words with jaqueline. while they were speaking berthold and albert arrived, each laden with a cage containing some beautiful white pigeons, which might easily, from the gracefulness of their form, have been mistaken for doves. "you see, vrouw jaqueline, that i have not forgotten my promise, and i am sure that you will take better care of them than i could do," said albert. "they each have got their names, and will come when you summon them, besides which, if they are carried to any distance, however great, they will always fly back as fast as their wings can bear them. i have trained them carefully to perform this duty; see here is one i call the lily, because it is the fairest and most beautiful of all. see how smooth and glossy are its feathers, every one of the most snowy white." jaqueline thanked albert for the birds, and promised to tend them carefully. "they will be content, however, at present to remain in their cage, so you need not trouble yourself about them," he observed. captain van der elst did not fail to admire the pigeons. "should the city be beleaguered they may be of the greatest possible use some day, if you can send them to the head-quarters of the prince, as beneath their wings they can carry the messages far more securely and rapidly than the fastest runner," he remarked. "at present the country is open, and i shall have to ride hard. i will not ask your permission to carry any of the birds with me, but perhaps in a few days before the spaniards gather round the city you will allow four of them to be taken to delft or rotterdam that they may return with such messages as the prince may desire to send." "it did not occur to me when i undertook to tend the pretty birds that they might prove of the service you suggest," said jaqueline. "you are indeed most welcome to take as many as you can employ. i shall prize them more than ever when they have thus assisted our glorious cause." suddenly berthold, on hearing that captain van der elst was about to set out for rotterdam, started up. "if my uncle will give me leave may i accompany you?" he exclaimed. "i know all the crossways and cross cuts better probably than you do, or indeed than anybody you can find, and i might be useful in guiding you." "will you have my nephew as your companion?" asked the burgomaster. "i would gladly have his society, but i am unwilling to expose him to the risks i may incur," answered captain van der elst. "the spaniards are likely to be more vigilant than ever, and their light horse will probably be scouring the country either to forage or to interrupt the communication between the cities." "that is the very reason why i wish to go with you," said berthold. "i know the roads thoroughly, for as soon as the spaniards had retired, feeling like a bird set free i scoured over the whole country, and amused myself in making a plan of them." "as berthold knows the country so well, surely it will lessen the risk you would have to run alone if you will take him with you," observed jaqueline. "i am sure that he will feel it an honour to accompany you, and he can return speedily with any message the prince may have to send." captain van der elst's scruples being overcome by these arguments, he no longer hesitated to accept the offer made by berthold, who hurried out as soon as he had snatched some food to see that his horse was got ready. "i quite envy you," said albert to him. "i should like to go also, but i know that my father will require my services, and i must even now hurry back to him." in a short time, the two steeds being brought to the door, captain van der elst and his young companion, having bid farewell to the burgomaster and jaqueline, proceeded towards the cowgate, the southern entrance to the town, leading towards rotterdam. jaqueline watched them eagerly as they rode off, undoubtedly a prayer ascended from her heart for their safe arrival. the country was green with the bright grass of early spring, the fruit trees in numerous orchards were covered with bloom, giving fragrance to the air. for the first part of the distance there was but little risk of their encountering enemies, and by the time they had got further on the sun would already be setting, and they would have the advantage of being concealed by the shades of evening. the village of zoeterwoude, standing on a slight elevation above the surrounding plain, was soon passed, and that of zuidbrunt, close to a large and shallow meer, was next reached, but they neither of them entered lest a party of spaniards might have ventured thus far from their head-quarters. they had already passed three enormous dykes running across their road, one beyond the other, built for the purpose of protecting the city from the inroads of the sea. roads, of course, ran along the top of these, some towards the hague, others towards delft, gouda, and numerous towns and villages to the right and left. although hitherto not a spanish soldier had been seen, at any moment some might be encountered. there were no heights or even tall trees from the top of which a view could be obtained of the surrounding country, so that they might know how to avoid their foes. their anxiety was much relieved when they saw the sun sinking into the not distant ocean. the prince frequently visited delft, but captain van der elst believed that he was now to be found at rotterdam, and although the former city was but slightly out of their course, he proposed avoiding it and riding directly for rotterdam. more than half the distance had been performed. a short way to the left lay the village of zoetermeer, raised, like others, slightly above the plain, and they already perceived the green trees and red roofs of the houses peeping up among them, lighted up by the last rays of the setting sun. "too much haste the less speed," observed the captain. "it is a true saying, and we must therefore bait our horses and give them a short breathing time, or they may break down before we reach our journey's end." "might we not push on without stopping, and trust to the animals to keep up their strength to the last?" asked berthold. "they are both good nags and sound in wind, and can manage a pretty broad ditch when pressed at it." "we may have to try their mettle even yet," said the captain. "and they will the better do their work after a feed of corn; besides, we may have to ride back, and we shall probably find no horses to exchange for them in rotterdam." "as you think best," said berthold. and they rode along a causeway which seemed to lead directly for the village. on reaching it they pulled up at the door of a small inn, the only one the place afforded. the landlady hurried out to meet them, and desired to know whether they intended to stop there the night. "no, friend, we wish only to bait our horses, and must be in the saddle again as soon as they are rested. it may be more prudent than remaining, for we cannot tell at what moment we might receive a visit from those savage hounds the spaniards." "reports have been brought in of several foraging parties being out, who take what they can find without paying a styver in return, besides which they ill-treat the people on all occasions," observed the landlord. "it would be a satisfaction if some of our young fellows were to break their heads, but if they were to make the attempt our village would to a certainty be burnt down, so we must humbly submit to save our skins." "i cannot advise you for the present to do otherwise," answered captain van der elst. "but the time may shortly arrive when we shall drive our hated foes into the sea." "would that it may come soon before they have, like a flock of locusts, eaten up every green thing in the land," exclaimed the landlord. "the information you give shows me the importance of our being on the road again without delay," said captain van der elst, as he and berthold accompanied the landlord to the stable, where room was at once made for their horses by turning out a couple of others. the landlord then pressed them to come in and take some refreshment, but they both declined. "not even a glass of rhenish wine? i have some of the best," said mine host. but they refused, considering that their time would be better occupied in rubbing down their steeds, and moistening their lips from a bucket of water, after they had finished their corn. "you can still render us a service, friend, by sending out to learn if any spaniards are yet in the neighbourhood," said the captain, "surely that i will do," answered the landlord, and he summoned a couple of active-looking lads and directed them to run out as far as their legs could carry them in ten minutes, and to try and discover if any cavalry were near at hand. "foot soldiers are not likely to venture thus far, so we need have no fear of them," he observed. the lads clearly understood what was required of them, and started together in opposite directions. they had not been gone the allotted time when one of them came hurrying back, covering the ground with long, rapid strides. "if the mynheers do not wish to be made prisoners, they had better be out of the village as soon as they can saddle up," he said. "i caught sight of a party of horsemen just passing the border of the meer where the willows grow; there must have been a dozen of them or more; but i only stopped to count thus far and then took to my heels, expecting every moment to have a shot whistle by my ears." "you have done well, hans," said the landlord. "and here is a reward for your service," added berthold, giving the youth a coin. "i did it of my own free will," answered hans. "it is not the first time i have been set to watch the spaniards, or that they have tried to catch me, and found that they had a will-o'-the-wisp to deal with; but this was an easy task, and nothing to boast of." hans was saying this while he was assisting berthold to replace the bit in the horse's mouth, and to tighten the girth of his saddle, the landlord rendering the same service to captain van der elst. the next moment they were in the saddle and pushing full speed through the village to the southward. should they be discovered, they would not only run the risk of being shot at, but would expose the landlord to punishment for having entertained them. looking back, they could see no one following, and hoped, therefore, that they had escaped observation, while their horses, refreshed, made up for the short delay by getting on at full speed. they soon passed the village of bleiswijk, between which and the next place ran a broad causeway forming the high road to rotterdam. though the gloom of evening was increasing, there was still sufficient light to enable them to see objects at some distance. berthold, who knew the road best, was leading, when suddenly he reined in his horse, and made a sign with his right hand for his companion to do the same. "see, just coming from the right, are a score of horsemen; they may be hollanders, or free lances, though from the height of their helmets they look more like spaniards," he exclaimed. "we had better avoid them." "how is that to be done?" asked captain van der elst. "we passed just now on the left a narrow dyke, which runs, i know, in a south-westerly direction; at the farther end is a bridge which leads across the rotte. if we are pursued, we must leave the road and ride across the country. we can without difficulty swim the river, when the spaniards, with the heavy trappings of their horses, would not be able to follow." scarcely had berthold said this when they could see against the sky the figures of a large number of horsemen moving along a road to the right. "we might even now, by dismounting, lead our horses down into the plain, and perhaps escape observation," said berthold. "no, no, as we can see them they must have discovered us," said the captain. "lead the way across the dyke you spoke of; i will follow closely at your heels." as there was no time for further deliberation, berthold, turning his horse's head and passing the captain, galloped along the way they had come for a few minutes and then turned off along the top of the dyke he had described. the moment they turned they heard shouts, evidently coming from the horsemen they wished to avoid. "those are spanish voices," said the captain. "i know them well. push on, berthold!" but the road along the top of the dyke was much rougher than the one they had left, and it made it necessary for them to keep a careful hand on their reins to prevent their horses from falling. from the way the dyke ran it formed an angle with the high road, and they were soon again brought within sight of the spanish horsemen, who shouting out to them to stop, fired several shots in rapid succession. "the fellows are not bad marksmen," said berthold, "for i heard two or more bullets whistle close to my ears." captain van der elst continued shouting out, "ride on! ride on!" more to show that he himself was unhurt than that there was any necessity to urge on berthold. the spaniards were evidently unwilling to trust themselves to the low ground for fear of finding that it was a morass, into which their steeds might plunge with little hope of extricating themselves. on seeing that the fugitives had a good chance of escaping, although some of the spaniards galloped after them along the road, the others continued firing their carbines, though fortunately they missed their aim. the two fugitives were soon beyond the range of the spanish musketeers, but captain van der elst still cried out to his companion, "go on! go on!" for, glancing behind him, he saw indistinctly through the gloom the heads of several horsemen following them. "we shall soon be at the bridge," cried berthold. "i do not think the spaniards will attempt to cross it." just as he had announced that they were close upon it they saw a body of horse who had evidently galloped round to take possession of the post. this discovery was made, however, in time to enable berthold to ride his horse down the side of the dyke, the captain following his example. "come along," he cried out, "the ground is somewhat soft, but these horses are accustomed to it, and we may get over it much faster than our pursuers." having proceeded some distance, they had good reason to hope that they had not been seen. "we must now make for the river, and a few minutes will carry us safe across it," said berthold. the horses as they reached the bank, without hesitation plunged in, and bravely breasted the smooth water. they had got more than halfway across when again they heard the shouts of a number of spaniards ordering them to return. "you may shout yourselves hoarse, my men," cried berthold. "we have no intention of obeying you." finding that their shouts produced no effect, they fired several bullets from their fire-arms, and the bullets came spattering into the water like a shower of hail, but the gallant steeds bore their riders to the opposite bank unhurt, and soon scrambling up, the captain and berthold continued their course over the fields. "will not the spaniards cross the bridge and attempt to overtake us?" asked the captain. "we must be prepared for the contingency." "i think not," answered berthold. "they might encounter some of the prince's cavalry, and are not likely to venture further south." they at length gained another dyke, on the summit of which the road ran directly for rotterdam. they now galloped forward with less apprehension of meeting an enemy, and at length, about two hours after dark, entered rotterdam. they immediately inquired the way to the house where the prince was residing. from the remarks they heard made, they discovered that the news of the disaster at mookerheyde had already reached the city, for which the captain was thankful, as it would save him from the painful necessity of announcing it to the prince. they found guards before the door, and several grooms and other servants, to one of whom they committed their horses. captain van der elst at once delivered to a gentleman-in-waiting his name and the object of his visit, and they had no time even to shake off the water which still clung to the lower part of their garments, when they were informed that the prince desired to see them. they followed their guide into an apartment plainly furnished, with several writing-tables; at one of these sat a tall, dignified man with brown hair, moustachios and beard, a forehead broad and lofty, and eyes bright and full of expression. the captain advancing, bowed, and introduced his young companion as the nephew of the burgomaster of leyden. the prince, who had risen, received them gravely, but at the same time in a cordial manner. "you bring further intelligence, captain van der elst, from the field of mookerheyde?" he said. "of the main particulars i have already been informed by some few who escaped and made their way here." captain van der elst briefly explained how he himself had escaped, and being well assured that leyden would again be attacked that he had considered it his duty to ride round to that city in order to prepare the inhabitants for what was likely to occur. he then gave an account of the meeting of the council, stating that john van der does had been elected military commandant, subject to his approval. "they could not have made a better choice," remarked the prince. "it shall be confirmed." in a few brief sentences he questioned the captain regarding the battle of mookerheyde. a tone of melancholy pervaded all he said, but he in no other way showed the deep grief which weighed him down. the prince sat silently listening, his countenance unmoved, while the captain made his report, and berthold began to fear that his friend might be blamed for his conduct. he was, therefore, greatly relieved when the prince remarked, "you have exhibited courage and discretion, captain van der elst, qualities we greatly need in the present emergency. i must send you back with a message to the citizens of leyden to urge them to maintain the town against the foes of our country to the last gasp. they ought to have destroyed the forts the spaniards left, to have amply provisioned the city, and to have secured an efficient garrison; but i will not now speak of what is passed. remind them from me that they are about to contend not for themselves alone, but that the fate of our country of unborn generations may, in all human probability, depend on the issue about to be tried. eternal glory will be their reward if they manifest the courage worthy of their race, and of the sacred cause of religion and liberty. say that i implore them to hold out at least three months, and i pledge my word that i will within that time devise the means of delivering them. advise them immediately to take an account of their provisions of all kinds, including the live stock, and let the strictest economy be employed in their consumption. stay, i will sign the commission appointing the seigneur of nordwyck as commandant, and write what i deem necessary to confirm the message i verbally send by you. when can you again set out?" the captain acknowledged that he and his young companion had had no refreshment or rest since they left leyden, but that he himself was willing to start immediately could a fresh horse be found for him. he, however, considered that he ought to mention having encountered several parties of spaniards, and that there would be some risk of being captured on the return journey. when he also explained the energetic measures the burgomaster and commandant were already taking, the prince replied, "wait, then, till to-morrow, when you may get over the most hazardous part of the distance during the night." the prince having spoken a few words of encouragement to berthold, which he was never likely to forget, signified to them that they might retire, and gave orders to one of the officers to attend to their wants. chapter four. the brave commandant, attended by young albert, set an example of enduring energy to his fellow-citizens. from morning till night he was to be seen going round and round the fortifications, showing were points might be strengthened with advantage, and to encourage the labourers, often himself taking a spade or pick in hand. where fresh batteries had to be thrown up, the work was one which greatly taxed the strength of the citizens, but they all knew that their lives depended on their repairing and strengthening their defences before their foes should again attack them. not only the citizens of all ranks, but their wives and children assisted, many who had never before engaged in manual labour offering their services to carry baskets of earth to the ramparts, and otherwise aiding in the work going forward. in this task the commandant was ably supported by the burgomaster and other magistrates. jaqueline often accompanied the burgomaster, and set an example to the citizens' wives and daughters by carrying baskets of earth, nor did her father, tenderly cherished though she had always been, attempt to prevent her from performing the task which she considered right. he felt the importance of the example she set to others, for when they saw the fair lily, the admired of all, engaged in manual labour for the common good, no one, not even the most delicate, could venture to hold back. it would have been well for the citizens if they could have obtained provisions as easily as they could repair their walls, but the country had already been drained by the spaniards, mounted parties of whom were even now ranging as near as they could venture, to prevent supplies from being sent into leyden. barges laden with corn, and carts, however, were constantly arriving at the city, and occasionally a few oxen, while horsemen rode out in various directions to induce the peasantry to send in all the provisions they could spare, reminding them that they would before long fall into the hands of their foes, who would take them without payment. still the amount of food collected fell far short of what was required. the citizens did not labour with the dull apathy of despair, but with warm enthusiasm, they all being resolved to rival their countrymen at alkmaar. the men sang at their work, and the girls chatted as if they were engaged in some holiday task. the only person who appeared not in any way to partake of the general enthusiasm was the baron von arenberg, who excused himself on the plea that he was out of health, and that any exertion would be exceedingly injurious to him, though he had no objection to standing still and watching others at work, which he declared ought to afford the labourers ample encouragement. he did not, however, make his appearance in public as often as he had been accustomed to do. he was greatly put out from the circumstance that when calling at the house of the burgomaster he had seldom found him at home, and that jaqueline had invariably excused herself from seeing him during the absence of her father. he had therefore not known how she was employed. curiosity had, however, prompted him one bright morning to take a walk round the ramparts, and he arrived at a spot where a new battery was being thrown up. on a high mound stood the burgomaster, and near him a number of men were engaged in the more severe labour of the undertaking, while troops of women, some with full baskets, were bringing up earth from the trench which was being dug, while others were returning with the empty ones. the baron started with astonishment, for at the head of one of the parties appeared the lily of leyden carrying with a companion a basket of earth; her dress, though not ungraceful, was suited to her occupation. me gazed as if at first unable to believe his senses, a flush mantled on his brow. "can her father thus allow her to degrade herself?" he exclaimed to one of the eldest and chief citizens who was standing by, whose daughters and grand-daughters were similarly employed, though the baron was not aware of the fact. "the task too is utterly useless; should the spaniards again lay siege to the town, they will, before two weeks are over, have gained an entrance, and they have already shown the penalties they intend to exact from those who resist their authority." "baron van arenberg, such i am bound to believe is your honest opinion, but understand that we trust in god, in the true courage which animates the breasts of patriots, and in that aid which our noble prince will most assuredly send us," answered the old man, in a stern tone. "the task in which the fair jaqueline is engaged raises her higher than her beauty, her position, or her wealth can do in the eyes of her countrymen. look at my daughters and grand-children, they feel proud of imitating her; when you communicate with your friends, the `glippers,' tell them how the matrons and maidens of leyden are employed, and let them warn the spaniards of the death which awaits them should they assail our ramparts." the baron again started, but with a different feeling than before, and declared that he was no "glipper," though he was not inspired, he confessed, with the same enthusiasm which at present animated the citizens of leyden. "it may be that you are not a `glipper,' but your remarks savour much of the principles which animate them," observed the old citizen, in a dry tone. "speak them not aloud to others, or you may chance to be looked upon as a traitor and be treated as such." by a strong effort the baron quelled his rising anger; he could gain no credit by a dispute with the aged and highly esteemed citizen who had thus spoken to him, and turning aside he directed his steps homeward. he fancied that it would be derogatory to his rank to engage in manual labour, and yet he could not stand by and see the fair jaqueline and other young ladies of position thus employed without offering to assist them, unless he was prepared to be regarded as destitute alike of all chivalric and patriotic feelings. on reaching the handsome mansion he inhabited, after pacing several times across the room, he threw himself into a chair to consider what course he should pursue. the old citizen's remarks had warned him of the danger he would incur should he be supposed to advocate a surrender to the spaniards, and he would be in still greater danger should it be discovered that he was carrying on a secret correspondence with valdez through his "glipper" friends; he was also mortified and annoyed at seeing jaqueline so degrading herself, as he considered, by labouring like any peasant girl at the fortifications. "how can her father, who dotes on her as the apple of his eye, allow her thus to demean herself?" he exclaimed, "to exhaust her health and strength, to soil her fair hands with the moist and black earth; the very thought is unbearable!" he again rose and paced across the room, half inclined to order his servants to prepare for an instant journey. "if i remain i shall have to share the sufferings these obstinate citizens are preparing to bring down on themselves, or indeed i may lose my life. i would rather sacrifice my property than do that. i may by joining general valdez at once gain better terms for them, little as they deserve it at my hands, at all events i shall secure my own possessions." he rang a bell to summon an attendant, but no one answered to the call. at length he inquired of the old one-legged porter who had admitted him, when, to his disgust, he found that the whole of his establishment had gone out to labour at the fortifications. "they will soon get tired of the work and return," he said to himself, but the delay gave him further time for reflection. "if i go i must abandon all hope of winning the lily of leyden, unless the city is speedily captured and i am able to save her from the terrible danger she would incur during the assault. for her sake i must not allow her to run that risk; no, the only safe course, as far as she is concerned, for me to follow is to remain either to gain her father's consent to our immediate union, or to persuade her to fly with me, while there is yet time, to a place of safety. she might be unwilling to go to the hague, but i might take her to delft or rotterdam, where she would be equally safe; and although she might at first regret having left her father and other friends in this city, a very few weeks will show her what a merciful escape she has had. it may yet be some days before valdez and his army can reach the neighbourhood, i will remain and employ the time in endeavouring to persuade her to take the only step which can secure her safety. i cannot bear the thought that one so lovely should be doomed to the fearful fate in which she will be involved when the spaniards capture the city." fortunately there were few in leyden who entertained the baron's opinions. while he remained at home, his mind agitated by conflicting doubts and fears, the rest of the inhabitants were engaged as has been described. the commandant, accompanied by his son albert, remained chiefly on the ramparts; he had to inspect the firearms as they were repaired or manufactured by the armourers, ceaselessly working day and night, and he had likewise to examine the few recruits who could be collected from the country round to assist in the defence, and especial attention had to be given to the exercising of the men at the great guns placed in the various forts. the burgomaster, among his many other duties, daily visited the storehouses to see the progress made in collecting food, both for man and beast, and he also inspected the pens and sheds in which the cattle were placed as they were driven in, while he made preparation for all the various contingencies which might occur. and, although he desired his daughter to set the example to the women and girls of leyden, remembering that she was utterly unused to manual work, he, after a time, summoned her home to take the rest and refreshment she required. "go, my sweet jaqueline," said vrouw margaret de munto, the wife of one of the chief magistrates. "you have shown us how the most delicate can work, and we will not be idle during your absence." jaqueline, whose arms and shoulders were aching with the unwonted labour, was, it must be confessed, thankful to obey her father's summons to return home. she was rewarded with the consciousness that she had performed her duty, and she hoped to have strength to continue it, but she was more out of spirits than was usual with her. some days had passed since her young cousin berthold had accompanied captain van der elst to rotterdam and they had not again made their appearance. the burgomaster could not account for the delay, but felt sure that the prince would immediately send them back with despatches confirming john van der does in his appointment as commandant, and stating what plans he proposed for their relief. the lily cast many a glance over the plain in the hopes of seeing the two horsemen approaching; but though occasionally trains of carts and baggage-horses laden with sacks of corn, and small herds of cattle were seen on the roads, the two absent ones whose safe return would have relieved her anxiety failed to appear. as the foragers brought in word that parties of spaniards who had come from the direction of the hague had been met with, some fears were entertained that captain van der elst and berthold might have fallen into their hands. "berthold is too well acquainted with the country to allow himself and his companion easily to be caught," observed the burgomaster. "perhaps the prince is waiting to decide on the plan he proposes to adopt for our relief. we shall see them in a day or two; though it is but natural that you should feel as anxious about your cousin berthold as i do. they will arrive, i feel sure, before the spaniards approach our walls, as the prince, who keeps himself well acquainted with the enemy's movements, will not detain them too long, so as to prevent them getting in with safety." the lily sighed, for she feared there might be some miscalculation as day after day notice had been brought of the rapid approach of the hated foe, and at any hour it seemed that their advanced guard might appear before the walls. the burgomaster had thrown himself into an armchair the first rest he had sought that day since early dawn, having especially desired his daughter to retire. scarcely, however, had he taken his pen in hand to sign certain documents which had been brought to him, than the bells of the nearest church struck a peculiar note, which was taken up by the others in different parts of the city in rapid succession. it was the tocsin peal, announcing the approach of an enemy, and summoning the citizens to the ramparts. the burgomaster immediately rose, and sending word to jaqueline on no account to leave the house, set forth to the stadhuis, where he knew that the principal magistrates would quickly assemble. as he was leaving the door of his house he was met by young albert van der does. "the commandant has sent me, burgomaster, to request your presence on the north-western rampart, where he, with several officers, is waiting your arrival. a body of troops has been seen approaching along the causeway from the direction of the castle of valkenburg." the burgomaster, notwithstanding his fatigue, accompanied young albert at a rapid pace. from every direction people of all ranks were hastening through the streets, some girding on their swords as they left their doors, while their wives or daughters handed to them their firearms. many an eye was turned in the direction of the approaching troops. "they march more quickly than the spaniards are wont to do," observed the commandant to the burgomaster. "can they be troops sent by the prince to assist in the defence of the city?" asked the latter. "they would not be coming from that direction," said the commandant. "by their pennons, and the sombre appearance which pervades their ranks, i suspect that they are english." the foreign troops drew nearer, and no doubt longer remained that they were english, and as far as could be calculated numbered between five and six hundred men. "they will be a welcome addition to our garrison," observed one of the magistrates. "for those islanders are brave fellows and fight well on all occasions." "notwithstanding, unless they bring a written order to me from the prince to admit them, i will dispense with their services wherever they come from," said the commandant. "the english are trustworthy enough, and fight well if they are well fed and are satisfied with their quarters, but i would not trust them should a famine get within our walls; and should they begin to feel the pinchings of hunger, they would then cry out that we must surrender, and would induce others to follow their evil example. they well know that it is the policy of the spaniards just now to behave courteously to the english, and these mercenaries would hope that their lives would be spared, though every other man in the place were put to death. no, no; even though our numbers be few let us rather trust to the stubborn hearts of our hollanders than to such men as those probably are." the burgomaster and the other magistrates, after a short consideration, fully agreed with the sentiments expressed by the commandant. in a short time the english commander, galloping ahead of his men, rode up to the walls and in the name of william, prince of orange, demanded instant admittance. "whence do you come, colonel chester?" inquired the commandant, who recognised the officer as the commander of a body of english troops in the service of the prince. "from valkenburg," was the answer. "i have been obliged to abandon that fortress, from being assured that it would be hopeless to attempt holding out against the spaniards, who i hear are advancing with an overwhelming force, and i had neither provisions nor sufficient ammunition to stand a lengthened siege, i therefore judged it prudent to march here to assist you in the defence of your city." "i regret that i cannot admit you or your men, colonel chester," said the commandant. "our garrison is already of sufficient strength, and we have as many mouths to feed as we can find provisions for." "but my men and i shall be cut to pieces by the spaniards, who, if they overtake us in the open country, and we cannot hope to reach any other fortress in which we can defend ourselves, have threatened vengeance against all who side with the prince of orange." "there was one fortress you might have defended, and that you thought fit to abandon, regardless of the interests of the noble prince whom you engaged to serve," answered the commandant, sternly. in vain the english colonel pleaded that the lives of his whole band would be sacrificed if they were not admitted within, the city. the commandant was firm in his resolution and declined their services, and they at length finding that they pleaded in vain, forming themselves into compact order moved on till they reached the causeway leading to the hague. at length they were lost to sight in the distance; some few regretted that the commandant had refused the assistance of so many sturdy men-at-arms, but the act inspired the citizens with fresh courage, each man now feeling that on his own bravery and resolution the safety of the city depended. chapter five. active and intelligent scouts had been sent out to watch the movements of the enemy, and to bring back due notice of their approach to leyden. the citizens meantime were labouring as before at their fortifications; they well knew that there was no time to spare to complete their work. van arenberg, who had still managed to retain the confidence of the burgomaster, was a constant visitor at his house during the short time in the evening that he was at home. the baron, however, was convinced that there was no longer a hope of persuading the stout-hearted magistrate to submit, and yet anxious as he was to get outside and avoid the miseries he saw impending, he could not bring himself to abandon the prospects of winning the fair lily. he still, therefore, endeavoured to work on her feminine nature by pointing out to her the horrors and sufferings in which she must share with the other inhabitants of the place should she remain. "you have often spoken to me on this subject, baron van arenberg," she answered, regarding him calmly; "but know that i would rather trust to the pikes and swords of the citizens of leyden to defend our poor women and children from the clutches of the spanish soldiery than i would to the tender mercies of their general. it is useless again to speak to me on the subject; but since you fancy that you see so clearly the dreadful doom prepared for those who remain, i advise you to quit the city while there is time." the baron could say no more, but he muttered as he walked homeward that evening, "i must take other means of carrying out my object." the next morning jaqueline had repaired with her father to the ramparts on the south side of the town. they were soon joined by albert. "i met arenberg just now," he said to jaqueline, "looking as sulky as a bear. he asked where you were gone, as he had not found you at home. i could not tell him, as i did not know, and would not have told him if i had known; but i saw him start off to the north side of the town, so there is no fear of your being troubled by his presence." "but how do you know his presence troubled me?" asked jaqueline. "because i am very sure you cannot like a man who is a `glipper' at heart, whatever he may seem to be to people openly; and i have observed the way you always speak to him, and very glad i have been to see it." jaqueline was inclined to smile, and she could not chide albert for his frankness. "hulloa! look up there!" he exclaimed, pointing along the road. "i see two men on horseback and another on foot. what if they should prove to be the captain and berthold with a guide? perhaps they will bring us good news." "they do not come on as fast as i should have expected," said jaqueline, watching them intently. "yet they seem to be cavaliers, not common horse soldiers. perhaps they have to wait for their guide." the two horsemen and their attendant on foot drew near. "it is captain van der elst and my cousin berthold!" exclaimed jaqueline, in a more joyous tone than she had spoken for many a day. "the message they bring from the prince will, i trust, encourage our citizens." "encouragement they will certainly bring if they come from william the silent, who is very sure to inspire all whom he addresses with the spirit which animates his own dauntless mind. we will go down to the gate to meet them," said the burgomaster. the captain and berthold, with their companion, having answered the challenge of the sentries, were forthwith admitted. perceiving the burgomaster and jaqueline, they leaped from their steeds, and giving the reins to their companion, advanced towards them. "we have been a much longer time in reaching the city than the prince or we ourselves expected," said the captain, after the usual greetings. "we were pursued by a party of spaniards, and had to take refuge in the fortress of polderwaert, from which for several days we were unable to make our escape; but the message we bring will, i trust, encourage the citizens and garrison of leyden to defend the city until the spaniards are compelled to retire." "there is little doubt about that," said berthold. "he has not told you how, after we had taken refuge in the fortress, through his vigilance and courage, the spaniards, who attempted to surprise it, were driven off, and had he not been charged with the message from the prince, he would have been detained to assist in its defence should it again be attacked." "and who is that lanky fellow you brought with you, who is leading on the horses after us?" asked albert of his friend, as they followed the burgomaster with jaqueline and the captain. "a first rate fellow, hans bosch, he has done us good service twice already, besides piloting us along last night by paths which i could not have found by myself, though i know the country pretty well; he volunteered to come in order to carry messages from the city, and very useful we are likely to find him." as it was important at once to communicate the message brought by captain van der elst, the burgomaster summoned the chief inhabitants forthwith to the stadhuis. the captain having delivered his written despatches, spoke as he had been directed, employing the very words the prince himself had used, and advancing the most powerful arguments to induce the citizens not to yield to their foes. "he implores you," he continued, "to hold out for at least three months, and he pledges his word that he will within that time devise the means of delivering you from the spaniards." "for six months, if necessary, even if we have to eat the grass in our squares, the shoes on our feet, the rats and dogs to be found in the streets," was the reply. "i will announce your resolution to the prince, and it will, i am sure, encourage him to continue the efforts he is making for your relief," answered the captain. "had prince louis lived and joined him he would have had an army at his disposal, but the forces he can at present muster are only sufficient for the protection of rotterdam and delft." the address of the prince was printed and circulated throughout the city. after the meeting broke up, the burgomaster invited the young captain to accompany berthold to his house. "and who's your attendant, he appears to be a strange being?" "there are not many like hans bosch," remarked berthold. "he has twice saved us from falling into the hands of the spaniards, and, if i mistake not, will still render us good service, he can run like a deer and leap like a young calf. there are few who can dodge the spaniards as he can, and if we get shut up in the city, he will manage to get out again and slip through their ranks so as to let the prince know what we are about." "berthold does not over-praise hans bosch," observed the captain. "i commend him to your care, burgomaster, while he remains in the city, and he will be ready to make himself useful when his services are required." it was the first evening since preparations for the defence were commenced, that any of the inhabitants were able to take rest. though labourers were still employed on the works, they were nearly completed, and jaqueline felt that she might, without neglecting her self-imposed duty, return home and resume her ordinary attire, so that she could preside at her father's table. there were no guests besides captain van der elst and albert--berthold always resided with his uncle. "can you now remain with us?" asked the burgomaster of captain van der elst. "would that i could," answered karl, his eyes turning for a moment towards jaqueline. "but our prince requires my services and directed me to return without delay, he has, as you know, but few officers. his great object is forthwith to raise a force of sufficient strength to drive the spaniards from your gates; he did not inform me how it was to be done, but it will be no easy task, for he has to garrison rotterdam and delft, and to guard the immediate country. were he to leave those places unprotected, all might be lost." "we will trust to his sleepless energy and determination, both to devise and carry out a project for our relief," observed the burgomaster. "an idea has occurred to me, captain van der elst!" exclaimed albert. "i lately gave four beautiful carrier pigeons to the vrouw jaqueline, and if she will consent to make them over to you, you can carry them with you, and by their means inform us what progress the prince is making in his plans for our relief. do you consent to give up your pets, vrouw jaqueline?" "most willingly," she answered, "if captain van der elst will undertake the charge of the birds." "i will tend them carefully, and trust that they may become the messengers of happy news," he said, a smile for a moment lighting up his countenance. albert proposed that they should at once visit the pigeons with captain van der elst, and instruct him how they were to be fed and treated, as it was possible that he might have to depart at an early hour the next morning. as jaqueline expressed her readiness to do as albert proposed, the whole party, with the exception of the burgomaster, accompanied her to the tower of the house in which they were kept. in the same tower was situated her boudoir, and hence she could enjoy a wider view over the country than from any other part of the house. "we must put them into two small cages, so that they may be carried easily on horseback, or by a man on foot, if necessary," said albert. "come, berthold, if your cousin will allow us, we will go and procure such cages. i know where they are to be found, and we will be back in a few minutes." as jaqueline did not forbid them, they set off. it was the first time that jaqueline and karl van der elst had been together. they had never spoken of love, and the present moment seemed most inappropriate. karl did not conceal from himself the dangers to which he must be exposed in carrying out the projects of the prince, nor could he shut his eyes to the fearful risk all the inhabitants of leyden must run, even though relief might soon be brought to them. he, almost against his intentions, spoke a few words to jaqueline, the meaning of which she could not fail to understand. "it may be weeks--months--before we meet again, but my feelings, when i have learned once to esteem, are not given to change," she said. the young captain had reason to be content with the look which accompanied her words, even more than with the words themselves. the two lads soon returned with the cages, which were so small that two pigeons could only be pressed into each. "they will be hurt, poor things," cried jaqueline. "oh, no, no," said albert, "they will support each other, and travel far more comfortably than if they had more space, and were allowed to tumble about." as the captain had to start the following morning, arthur and berthold undertook to carry the birds to his lodgings that evening. captain van der elst, accompanied by hans bosch, for whom a horse had been provided, and who carried the two cages, set off at an early hour the following morning. secretly as his departure had been arranged, it was discovered by baron van arenberg, who had that morning risen at an earlier hour than usual and gone out to the ramparts. the baron recognised him, and muttered, as he observed him leaving the gate, "it will be many a long day before he is again within the walls of leyden, for ere long the spaniards, if i mistake not, will be in possession of them." in the evening the burgomaster, accompanied by his daughter and nephew and albert, had ascended to the top of the tower of hengist, when albert, whose eyes were of the sharpest, exclaimed, pointing over the city to the eastward, "see, see, there come a large body of men; they must be either the troops the prince has promised to send to our assistance, or the spaniards." the rest of the party gazed in the same direction. "they form the advance guard of our foes," said the burgomaster. "albert and berthold, hasten and give the information to the commandant; he will take good care that the walls are forthwith manned, though the spaniards, after a day's march, will be in no mood to make an attack when they know full well that we shall give them as warm a reception as did our friends at alkmaar." in a few minutes the bells of all the churches were ringing forth the well-known call to arms, and the citizens, with their weapons in hand, were seen hurrying to man the forts and ramparts. the burgomaster, with jaqueline, remained some time longer on the top of the tower that he might judge what positions the spanish general was likely to take. the head of the leading column advanced till it reached a spot just beyond range of the guns in the batteries, then it halted to wait for the arrival of other troops; these quickly followed, the whole force numbering not less than eight thousand men, walloons and germans. some immediately took possession of leyderdorp, and of the other forts which ought to have been destroyed, while others, armed with pickaxes and spades, without a moment's loss of time began throwing up fresh lines and forts, a third party being employed in pitching the tents and forming a camp just beyond them. all night long a vigilant watch was kept, as it was very possible that the spaniards might attempt to surprise the city in the hopes of capturing it at once, and saving themselves from the annoyance and sufferings of a protracted siege. young albert and berthold together went the rounds to see that the sentries were at their posts and wide awake, and that no post was left without a sufficient guard. no experienced officers could have been more on the alert. more than once they met the commandant, who, entrusting nothing of importance to others, was himself going the rounds. he gave the lads some words of approval. "while the young ones show such zeal i feel confident that we shall keep the foe in check till they are compelled ignominiously to retreat," he observed. for several days the citizens beheld the foreign troops gathering round them, bringing their batteries closer to the walls, till leyden was invested by no less than sixty-two redoubts, while fresh troops were seen coming in to swell the ranks of the besiegers. the city was now placed on a strict allowance of food, all the provisions having been purchased by the authorities, with an allowance of half a pound of meat, half a pound of bread allotted to each full-grown man, and to the rest in due proportion. at length the soldiers, and even some of the burghers began to murmur at their own inactivity; to give them confidence the commandant allowed a sortie to be made, promising a reward to each man who brought in the head of a spaniard. the men of leyden waited till nightfall, having previously carefully surveyed the point it was proposed to attack. all was still in the city, the spaniards might have supposed that the besieged were sleeping, when suddenly the gate at which the sortie was to be made was thrown open, three hundred men eager for the fray noiselessly rushed out, not a word was spoken, not a shout raised till they were upon their foe. the spaniards, the work of the day over, had piled their arms, and had scarcely time to fall into their ranks before their enemies were upon them; though a score or more fell yet they were too well disciplined to remain long in a state of confusion, and the officer leading the sortie deemed it prudent to call back his men. they returned without the loss of one of their number, bringing back at least a dozen spanish heads, such was the savage commencement of the struggle. night after night similar enterprises were undertaken, not always with the same result, though the hollanders were invariably successful, so silently and well executed were all their sorties, but several brave men fell, and the commandant, from fear of losing too many of his troops, deemed it necessary to prohibit any from leaving the gates without his express order. chapter six. the inhabitants of leyden were already fearfully hard pressed for food. their bread was entirely consumed; they had but a small supply of malt cake, with a few cows--kept as long as possible for their milk--besides these an equal number of horses and sheep; but every day these provisions were becoming more and more scanty, and unless they could speedily be relieved, starvation threatened them. the burgomaster and council were assembled when a letter which had been sent in from valdez, with a flag of truce, was received. the burgomaster read it aloud. it offered an amnesty to all hollanders, except a few mentioned by name, provided they would return to their allegiance; it promised forgiveness, fortified by a papal bull which had been issued by gregory the thirteenth to those netherland sinners who duly repented and sought absolution for their sins, even though they sinned more than seven times seven. besides this public letter were received epistles despatched by the "glippers" from the camp to their rebellious acquaintances in the city, exhorting them to submission, and imploring them to take pity upon their poor old fathers, their daughters, and their wives. "what say you, my friends?" exclaimed the burgomaster, who read these letters aloud. "the spanish general offers us free pardon for defending our hearths and homes as we have hitherto done, and by god's grace we will continue to do. the same plausible offers don frederic made to the citizens of haarlem. and what happened? the slaughter which overtook old and young alike, their city plundered, their homes ruined, can testify as to the value of such offers. shall we share their fate, or shall we hold out like men until the relief, which assuredly will come, arrives, although we have only malt cake to live upon, and but little of that, and a few cows, horses, goats, and dogs; and as to the remark of these `glippers,' the best pity we can show our poor old fathers, daughters, and wives is to keep them from the clutches of the spanish soldiery." "we will fight to the last! we will fight to the last!" was the unanimous response taken up by all the citizens in the streets. it was agreed that no answer should be sent to the spanish general; indeed some proposed hanging the herald, who was glad to make his escape with a single line in latin, on a sheet of paper, handed to him-- "when the trapper seeks to lure his bird, he softly plays his pipe." good care was taken that the herald should see nothing going on within the walls, or be able to report a word about the haggard countenances of the defenders. from their frowning looks and taunting expressions he was probably glad to escape with his life. meantime the condition of the inhabitants became worse and worse. jaqueline, with other maidens and matrons of rank, had formed themselves into a band to carry such relief as they could obtain for the sufferers. day after day they nobly prosecuted their self-imposed duties, and many by their means were aided who might otherwise have perished. returning one evening to her tower to attend her remaining pigeons, which as yet she had not allowed to be killed in the hopes that they might serve some useful purpose, after feeding them as was her wont, she was seated at the window, inhaling the pure air which the lower part of the city had failed to afford, when she observed a white spot in the sky glittering in the rays of the setting sun. nearer and nearer it came till she perceived that it was a bird. it soon flew in at the window and alighted in her arms. it was one of her own pigeons; beneath its wing she discovered, securely fastened by a silken thread, a small folded paper. quickly untieing and releasing her bird, which she placed with its companions, she hurried down with the document to her father. it was, as she hoped, from captain van der elst, written by the directions of the prince. he assured the citizens that he was already preparing the promised aid, and that he hoped all difficulties would soon be overcome. he again reminded the garrison of leyden that the fate of their country depended on their holding out. the captain did not say, what was really the case, that the prince himself was lying ill of a fever at rotterdam, and that unforeseen delays had occurred. as may be supposed he added a few words of his own to be read only by jaqueline, who would, he trusted, receive the epistle. the burgomaster lost no time in communicating the contents of the letter to the brave commandant. the despatch served to revive the drooping spirits of the garrison; still there was a further delay. again the spaniards attacked the walls and were once more repulsed, but the numbers of the garrison were slowly though surely decreasing, yet neither the burgomaster nor john van der does entertained a thought of submission. as only one of the pigeons had returned, jaqueline hoped that another might soon appear bringing more certain news of relief. she paid, as may be supposed, frequent visits to her tower, gazing in the direction when she hoped her winged messenger would appear. her numerous duties compelled her frequently to be absent, but each time she returned home she hurried there, as often to be disappointed. she had risen one morning rather later than usual from her couch, when going to the tower she perceived that the number of her pigeons was increased, quickly searching out the new arrival she discovered, as she had expected, a letter below its wing, it was longer than the previous one. as the burgomaster, to whom she carried it, read the news it contained his eyes brightened. it was from the prince himself; it said that the sluices at rotterdam and schiedam had been opened, that the dykes were all pierced, that the water was rising upon the land-scheiding, the great outer barrier which separated the city from the sea; that he had a fleet of two-hundred vessels in readiness stored with provisions, under the command of admiral boisot, and that as soon as there was sufficient depth of water, the fleet would fight its way to the walls of leyden and bring the citizens relief. "this is indeed joyous news!" exclaimed the burgomaster. he at once directed berthold to summon the city musicians to meet him, with their instruments, in the market-place, to which, accompanied by jaqueline, he immediately repaired. he knew that many of the chief citizens would soon collect there. taking the letter, he read it publicly, when the bands of music striking up, marched through the streets playing lively melodies and martial airs. the bells rang out merry tunes, and salvos of cannon were fired not at the foe but at brief intervals, to give indubitable signs that the city was rejoicing. "these scenes will astonish our enemies, who will at first be unable to comprehend their import, but i've an idea they will soon find out, and may deem it wise to decamp," exclaimed berthold. albert proposed making a sortie to attack the spaniards before they had recovered from their astonishment at hearing the joyful sounds from the city, and seeing the waters flowing over the land. "no! no!" answered the commandant. "many valuable lives might be sacrificed, and the ocean will ere long fight for us far more effectually than our swords." the burgomaster, generally accompanied by jaqueline, paid frequent visits to hengist tower. already from its summit the waters could be seen covering spaces which had hitherto been dry land, the canals having in many places risen ten inches and were overflowing their banks, though the great dyke five miles off still prevented the flood from reaching the spanish camp. the had one evening gone there with berthold and albert, who were especially eager in watching the rise of the flood. already in the far distance the rays of the sun glittered on the rising waters, where hitherto only green fields and orchards had been seen, but between that shining expanse and the city lay about five miles off the land-scheiding, a strong dyke which had been spoken of, and within it were also several circumvallations thrown up to defend the city from the encroachments of the ocean. these all had to be passed before the fleet could reach the walls. though there were canals navigable at all times by vessels of small burden, the land-scheiding was still a foot and a half above the water, forming an impassable barrier, besides which in the intermediate space were numerous villages held by the king's troops. while the two lads were standing somewhat apart from the burgomaster and jaqueline they observed a person approaching the tower. "it is that fellow van arenberg," whispered albert. "i wonder he has ventured to remain so long in the city, he might all this time have been with the spaniards, whom he is so constantly praising and advising the people to confide in. when the fighting is going on he is never to be seen on the ramparts, and though he receives his rations i suspect that it is only a make-believe, and that he has a secret store of provisions in his own house." "it would not do to say that to the burgomaster," observed berthold. "he still believes him to be honest, though wanting in spirit, and would, i suspect, even now let jaqueline marry him if he were to press his suit and she were to consent." "that is not very likely to happen," said albert. "she would be more ready to marry captain van der elst." "i do not know," answered berthold. "during our journey he never, that i recollect, once spoke to me about her; but here comes the baron, we had better keep out of his way, for if i meet him i shall be inclined to say something he won't like." the baron, who certainly seemed to have suffered less than most of the inhabitants of leyden from scanty food and constant watching, now reaching the top of the tower approached the burgomaster and jaqueline. having in his usual courteous and polished manner paid his respects to the lily and her father, he pointed southward. "you are looking out there, i conclude, for the appearance of admiral boisot and his sea beggars, but i fear that we shall look in vain; his flotilla may reach the land-scheiding, but beyond that no mortal power can enable his ships to advance; even should they pierce it, as the prince expects, it is impossible that they can pass all those other barriers with the victorious troops of valdez opposing them and garrisoning every village and fort." "god can make a way if man cannot," answered the burgomaster. "but he may not think fit to make one for those daring outlaws to reach leyden," said the baron. "would that i could hope that relief was likely to come, but i have long despaired, as you know, of obtaining it, and i have sought you, burgomaster, to entreat you that even should you consider it your duty to remain you will allow me to escort your fair daughter to some place where she may escape the unspeakable miseries which are gathering round the inhabitants of this unhappy city. i can, through some influential friends, obtain a safe pass from valdez, and can also through their means arrange for her secret departure from the city, so that whatever happens she will at all events be preserved." "even should she wish it, my duty to my fellow-citizens will prevent me from permitting her to go," answered the burgomaster. "her departure would tend to dishearten those who have already sufficient to try them; but you may ask her." jaqueline had, while the baron was speaking to her father, withdrawn from his side, and was about to join her cousin and albert when the young noble approached her. in carefully measured words he spoke of his love and devotion, and offering his hand and heart, entreated her at once to become his wife that he might be able to rescue her from the dangers by which she was surrounded. "i have your father's permission," he added, "and whatever opinion he may consider it his duty to express publicly i cannot but believe that his mind will be greatly relieved when he knows that you are beyond the reach of harm." "it may be that you have my father's permission to speak to me," she answered, "but he would never counsel me to play a dastard's part and dishearten my fellow-citizens, whom i am bound to encourage. understand, ernst van arenberg, sooner would i remain among those who are stricken down every day by famine and pestilence, and share their fate, if god so wills it, than wed one who traitorously counsels submission to the foe." as she spoke she fixed her clear blue eyes on him with a look the meaning of which he could not misinterpret, for it showed the scorn his proposal had inspired. he might have seen that his cause was hopeless, yet he could not even now abandon her, and was again about to speak when berthold and albert came up with an independent air, the former exclaiming-- "look out there, jaqueline! look out, your eyes are keen enough to see the sun shining on some score of white sails far away to the southward; they form, i doubt not, the vanguard of a relieving fleet, and before long the spaniards, the `glippers,' and their friends will be scampering off to escape being overwhelmed by the rising tide." "it is high time for you, baron, to go and give the spaniards warning if you wish to serve them a good turn," said albert. the baron frowned at the lad, who looked so unconscious of having said anything disagreeable that he did not venture to reply. at length the burgomaster, addressing jaqueline, proposed to return home, and desired his nephew and albert to follow him, but a word from jaqueline prevented him from inviting the baron, as he might otherwise have done, to his house. van arenberg descended the steps close behind them, but receiving no intimation that he might accompany them from jaqueline or her father, he was compelled to lift his beaver, which he did with a somewhat haughty air, and without taking the slightest notice of the lads, walked away in an opposite direction. the burgomaster, who had overheard some of the boy's remarks, chided them for speaking so rudely to the baron. "though the opinion you have formed of him is, i fear, right, it becomes you not thus to address a person so much your senior in age as well as in rank," he said. jaqueline, however, interfered, and told her father that she was thankful to them for coming so opportunely to her assistance, and preventing her from uttering expressions which the baron might have deemed far more severe than anything her cousin and albert could say. chapter seven. jaqueline had welcomed a third of her white-winged birds to her tower. the pigeon bore a letter dictated by admiral boisot, though she recognised the handwriting of captain van der elst. it stated that the fleet led by an enormous vessel, the "ark of delft," with shot-proof bulwarks, and moved by paddle-wheels turned by a crank, had reached the land-scheiding, and that he hoped, ere long, the large dyke would be broken through and that the way would be opened to the very walls of the city. the prince also sent a message urging the citizens yet longer to hold out, reminding them that with leyden all holland must also perish. this letter for a time greatly encouraged the suffering garrison; those who understood the nature of the undertaking were aware that much depended on the direction of the wind. an easterly gale was calculated to blow back the waters and prevent their rising, while one from the south or west would force them on towards the city. the wind was now blowing from the cast and the tides were at their lowest, so that the waters were making but slow progress. still the loyal-hearted among the population, trusting to their prince's promises, were assured that if it was in the power of human help they would in time be relieved. the "glippers," however, who professed to know the country well, ridiculed the desperate project. those in the town taunted their fellow-citizens, frequently crying out, "go up to the tower and tell us if you can see the ocean coming over the dry land to our relief." day after day they did go up, hoping, praying, fearing, and at last almost despairing of relief from god or man. letters were also daily received from those with valdez urging the inhabitants to spare themselves further suffering. young albert and berthold had made themselves especially useful by going round the ramparts, not once or twice a day, but many times during the day and night, at all hours, so that they might not only see that the sentinels were keeping a vigilant watch, but that they might be able to discover treachery should any have been attempted. they had one evening gone to the top of hengist's tower, a spot they were especially fond of visiting at all hours of the day and night, when they saw the hitherto dark sky to the southward suddenly illumined by bright flashes of light following one another in rapid succession. "hark, i can hear the roar of guns," exclaimed berthold. they listened, there was no doubt about it. the flashes continued, now fires blazed up in various directions. there was more firing, not always in the same place, the tide of battle was evidently moving on. the lads were at length joined by several citizens. "the sea beggars are coming!" shouted albert, unwittingly, "they are fighting their way towards us." "we must not be too sanguine," observed one of the citizens. "there may be fighting taking place, but we cannot tell who is gaining the victory. it may be that the spaniards are driving back our friends." "i am very sure that they are not," cried albert. "admiral boisot and his gallant followers are victorious--of that i am certain." "count louis and his whole army were cut to pieces not long ago," remarked this citizen, in a melancholy tone. the mystery was not solved that night, and the whole of the next day went by without any information having been received of what had taken place. the following night the two lads were passing along the top of the wall in the neighbourhood of the cowgate, looking southward, when they caught sight of the figure of a person close below them who had suddenly come into view. "send me down a rope and be quick about it, or i may be caught by the spaniards, for they are close upon me," he exclaimed. "they will scarcely venture within range of our guns," said berthold. "but we will haul you up as soon as we can get a rope." "i know where to find one not far off," said albert, and he hurried away, while berthold summoned two or three of the guard to the assistance of the stranger. albert quickly returned with a rope of sufficient length and strength. scarcely was it lowered when the stranger hauled himself up with the agility of a monkey. "don't you remember me?" he said, looking at berthold. "i am hans bosch, you know that you can trust me; i have accompanied captain van der elst, and he will be up here before long. i have led the spanish guard a pretty dance to draw off their attention, that he might the more easily pass by them. i don't think they are likely to have caught him, though if he does not appear soon i must go back again. i know part of his message, which i may give if he does not appear, but i hope that he will deliver it himself." this news so greatly excited berthold and albert that they were much inclined to set out with hans to look for their friend, but he advised them to do nothing of the sort. "they might as well try to catch a will-o'-the-wisp as me," he said, "but they would trap you in a moment. no, no; if i go, i go alone." at length, to their great joy, another figure was seen. "quick! quick! that's him!" exclaimed hans. "that's the captain. quick! quick! the chances are he has a dozen spaniards at his heels!" the rope was lowered, and the captain was quickly hauled up to to the top of the wall. he shook albert and berthold warmly by the hand. "i must lose no time," he said, "in reporting to the burgomaster and commandant the steps the prince has taken for the relief of the city. you are undoubtedly eager to hear, but i must reserve my report for your ciders." the two lads hastened on with their friend, and fortunately found the burgomaster in consultation with the commandant. the boys stood eagerly listening while the captain delivered his message. "you heard that the admiral had received directions from the prince to take possession of the land-scheiding. this was done two nights ago. but a few spaniards were found stationed on the dyke, and they were quickly driven off when we fortified ourselves upon it. in the morning the enemy endeavoured to recover the lost ground, and attacked us in considerable force, but we drove them back, they leaving hundreds of dead on the field. no time was lost in breaking through the dyke in several places. the water rushing on, the fleet sailed through the gaps; but, to our disappointment, we found another dyke, that of the greenway, three quarters of a mile further on, rising at least a foot above the waters. this had also been left ill-protected, and our admiral promptly attacking it, took possession, and levelling it in many places, brought the flotilla over its ruins. soon afterwards, however, the further progress of the fleet was arrested by the shallowness of the water; but our admiral, knowing the anxiety you must be feeling, dispatched me to inform you of this, and to assure you that he waits but the rising of the tide and a favourable wind to bring you succour." the news was thus far satisfactory, and the captain was warmly thanked for bringing it, but that he received his reward when at the burgomaster's invitation he accompanied him home, there could be little doubt. the wind, however, still blew from the east, and the inhabitants well knew that as long as it came from that quarter they must look in vain for the wished-for ocean to reach their walls. day after day the siege continued; the inhabitants were suffering not only from famine, but from pestilence, produced by the scantiness of their food. hapless infants were starved to death, mothers dropped dead in the streets with their dead children in their arms, and in many a house the watchmen in their rounds found whole families of corpses, father, mother, and children, lying side by side, struck down by pestilence. bread, malt cake, and horse-flesh had entirely disappeared. a small number of cows had been kept as long as possible for their milk, but a few of these were killed from day to day, and distributed in minute proportions, scarcely, however, sufficient to support life among the famishing population, while their hides chopped and boiled were greedily devoured. green leaves were stripped from the trees, every living herb was converted into human food; dogs and rats were caught and eaten. still, although papers offering a free pardon were sent into the city, the inhabitants spurned them, and refused to listen to treacherous promises of the foe. the commandant was anxious to send a trusty messenger to the prince, and while pointing out the urgent necessity for relief, promising to resist to the last. "will you return, captain van der elst?" he asked of karl, who was in attendance on him. "i dare not order any man on so desperate an undertaking, for the spaniards keep a vigilant watch, and will have no mercy on any one whom they capture." "if it were to certain death, i would go," answered karl. "and i place my services at your disposal. at the same time the danger is not so great as you suppose. several of the forts in the lower ground have been flooded, and the trenches filled with water, so that the spaniards have been compelled to evacuate them, and thus to those who are acquainted with their position the way is far more open than it has been heretofore, while numerous sentries at the outposts have been withdrawn." "to-night be prepared to set out; a skiff shall be in readiness having served at sea, you know well how to manage her," answered the commandant. karl took his leave, and repaired to the house of the burgomaster to receive any message he might desire to send. he might have had another motive. he found the chief magistrate and his daughter seated alone. though suffering from the severe privation she had undergone in common with the rest of the population, if possible the lily looked more lovely than ever. she smiled as the young soldier entered, but her lip trembled on hearing of the duty he had undertaken, yet not a word did she utter to dissuade him from it. "my prayers will be offered that heaven protect you," she murmured, in a low voice as he approached her, while the burgomaster was writing some brief notes. "i trust that i may return, perhaps ere many hours are over, on board the fleet to bring you succour," he answered. "you will know of our approach, for our guns will thunder against the fortresses of the enemy when the waters rise sufficiently to enable us to advance." "the wind still blows from the cast and keeps back the fleet," she observed. "but the wind may ere long change, and depend upon it our brave admiral and his `sea beggars' will not linger the moment there is sufficient water to float their ships," said karl, in an encouraging tone. when her eyes were lifted towards his countenance, their expression was very different to that with which she had regarded the baron. with natural reluctance karl, having received his dispatches, at length rose to take leave and prepare for his enterprise. as there were traitors within the gates he kept all his arrangements secret. they were known only to his two young friends and hans bosch, who undertook to accompany him. not till late on the following day was it even known that he had set out when the burgomaster announced that he had despatched another messenger to entreat their friends to hasten to their relief. desperate as had been the state of matters in the besieged city, they hourly became worse. leyden, indeed, appeared to be at its last gasp. the noble burgomaster maintained his heroic bearing, ever moving about to encourage the wavering and to revive the drooping spirits of the loyal; but a trial greater than any he had yet had to endure was in store for him. jaqueline had from the first employed herself in going among the sick and suffering, and carrying such relief as she was able to afford, and consoling the afflicted ones from that book in which true comfort alone can be found. in these active duties she found her chief solace. not only was she enduring physical suffering! but no certain tidings had been received of captain van der elst, and reports were current that he had been captured by the spaniards, it being well known that if such was the case a cruel death must have been his fate. one evening the lily was returning to her home from one of her expeditions of mercy, attended by margaret, an old and faithful servant, who was her constant companion. as darkness was already overspreading the city, she hurried on, unwilling to be out so late at night, when she was accosted by a poor woman, who, with a piteous tale, too likely to be true, entreated that she would visit her perishing family. without hesitation she desired margaret to return home and obtain such scanty provisions as remained, while she accompanied the suppliant. margaret, having collected a small amount of food, hurried back to rejoin her mistress at the address given by the woman who had spoken to her, but no living beings were in the house; three corpses alone lay on the floor. margaret, without a moment's loss of time, went to all the neighbouring houses, inquiring for the vrouw jaqueline, but no one had seen her. almost frantic she hurried through the streets of the city, but her search was fruitless. at last she went back with the overwhelming intelligence, which she entreated berthold to break to his uncle. the burgomaster, who had hitherto held out so bravely, for a moment seemed stunned, but quickly recovering himself he directed berthold to send all the servants of the house to him, but no one was able to afford the slightest information to account for jaqueline's disappearance. "i would lay my life that the baron van arenberg has had something to do with it," exclaimed berthold. "if you will let me i will get albert and we will go to his house. we shall soon judge by the way he receives the intelligence whether he knows anything about the matter." berthold received the leave he requested, while the burgomaster himself forthwith sent a band of watchmen round in all directions through the town in search of jaqueline, while he called at numerous houses and visited all the friends on whom he could rely to obtain their assistance in the search. the first to make their appearance at his house were albert and berthold. "we were right," they exclaimed. "the baron's servants know nothing of him; he left home at an early hour this afternoon, and has not since returned. most of his domestics, who were `glippers,' have long ago made their escape. the watchmen in the course of the night came in with equally unsatisfactory reports--not a trace of the vrouw jaqueline had been discovered." "may god protect my child," exclaimed the burgomaster, bowing his head. "she is beyond human aid." no one would have believed from his appearance the next morning, when he left his home to attend to his magisterial duties, that a deep domestic sorrow had overtaken him. he started as he quitted his door, for there, on the very threshold, lay a dead body, thus placed as if to reproach him for his stern determination in holding out. "we shall all soon be like him who lies there," cried many voices. "it were better to have yielded than have been compelled to endure such suffering," shouted others. unheeding them, the burgomaster proceeded to a triangular space in the centre of the town, into which many of the principal streets opened, and in which stood the church of saint pancras, two ancient lime trees growing on either side of the entrance now stripped bare of leaves by the famishing people. ascending the steps, adrian van der werf stopped while he regarded the numberless angry faces turned towards him. for a moment he stood there, his figure tall and imposing, his visage dark and haggard, his eye yet tranquil and commanding, and then waving his broad-brimmed hat for silence, he exclaimed, "what would you, my friends? why do you murmur that we do not break our vows and surrender our city to the spaniards, a fate more horrible than the agony which she now endures? i tell you i have made a vow to hold the city, and may god give me strength to keep it. i can die but once, whether by your hands, by the enemy's, or by the hand of god. my own fate is indifferent to me, not so that of the city entrusted to our care. i know that we shall soon starve, but starvation is preferable to the dishonoured death which is the only alternative. your menaces move me not. my life is at your disposal. here is my sword, plunge it into my breast and divide my flesh among you, take my body to appease your hunger, but expect no surrender as long as i remain alive." the words of the brave burgomaster inspired a new courage in the hearts of those who heard him. shouts of applause and defiance rose from the famishing, but enthusiastic crowd, they hurried to the ramparts to hurl renewed defiance at the enemy. "ye call us rat-eaters and dog-eaters," they cried; "so long as ye hear a dog bark or a cat mew within the walls ye may know that the city holds out; when the last hour has come, we will with our own hands set fire to the houses and perish in the flames rather than suffer our homes to be polluted and our liberties to be crushed." chapter eight. truly it has been said that leyden was sublime in its despair. day after day went by and yet no relief came, but the wind, which had long blown steadily from the cast, suddenly changed to the westward. at length albert and berthold, who had regularly visited jaqueline's tower, discovered the fourth pigeon. they eagerly examined its wing, beneath it was a letter which came from the admiral. the fleet had reached north aa, and in a few days at furthest he expected to reach the gates of the city. the burgomaster read the letter as before in the market-place, and the bells rang out a joyous peal. once more, however, the wind shifted, and the hopes of the garrison of leyden sank to the lowest ebb. we must now return to the evening when jaqueline, having sent her attendant margaret to obtain provisions for the suffering family, accompanied the woman who had supplicated her. suddenly, as she was passing close to a canal, she found herself lifted from her feet, while a thick cloak was thrown over her. in vain she attempted to shriek for help, in another instant she heard the splash of oars. "do not fear, you are in the safe keeping of one who desires to save you from horrible suffering and death," whispered a voice in her ear. notwithstanding these assurances, jaqueline entreated that she might be placed on shore, and endeavoured by her cries to attract the attention of any who might be passing. vain were her efforts, the thick folds of the cloak prevented her voice being heard, while a heavy mist, together with the shades of night, shrouded the canal as the boat glided forward. jaqueline knew that the canal extended out beneath the city walls, and she hoped that the boat would be challenged as it passed under them and be compelled to put to shore. keeping silent, she resolved to take the opportunity of making another effort to escape from her captors; as the spot was approached, however, she felt a hand pressed on her mouth. in vain she struggled to free herself, she heard the sign and counter-sign given, and the boat impelled by four sturdy rowers soon left the city walls behind. strange as it might seem, thinking more of the safety of her townsmen than of herself, the idea occurred to her that if persons could thus, undiscovered, leave the city, an armed force might be introduced by the gates, and disastrous might be the consequences. she was, she had reason to fear, being carried to the spanish camp, but who could have been guilty of so treacherous an act? she was not left long in doubt, the person who had before addressed her in a subdued tone now raised his voice, and she recognised it as that of van arenberg. for some time she could not sufficiently command herself to speak, at length, however, she said in a calm tone, "i will not pretend to be ignorant that it is you who have committed this unwarrantable act of violence, and i insist that you carry me back to the city and restore me to my father, his mental anxiety already so overwhelming, when he finds that i am lost, may bring him to the grave." "i have but acted, my beloved jaqueline, as you would secretly wish, to save you from that destruction which must, ere many days have passed, descend on the city. my object is to carry you to a place of safety, all i ask being your hand and love." "the former i will not give, the other i cannot bestow," answered jaqueline, firmly. "had i before been willing in obedience to my father's wishes to try and love you, the outrage you have committed would have changed my sentiments, and i again insist that you return with me to the city." "to do so is utterly impossible," answered van arenberg. "the sentries, as we passed beneath the fortress of zoeterwoude, nearly detected the boat, and we should certainly be captured were we to make the attempt. we will now, therefore, proceed towards delft, where you will be among friends, and safe from the foes you dread." jaqueline greatly doubted that the baron spoke the truth. again and again she insisted, notwithstanding all the risks they might run, that they should return to the city. she saw at length that all expostulation was useless, the darkness of night prevented her from observing the direction they were taking. suddenly the sound of heavy guns broke on her ear, followed by the rattle of musketry. looking southward she saw bright flashes glancing over the water in rapid succession; she thought, too, that she could even hear the shouts of the combatants, the clashing of swords and battle-axes. it was evident that a fierce fight was raging in that direction. the rowers, who had hitherto been exerting themselves to the utmost, paused, and exchanged a few hurried words. it appeared to her that they had lost their way, for many new channels, deepened by the inflowing waters, branched off on every hand. van arenberg ordered them to row on. "in what direction shall we go?" asked one of the men. "we may chance to run our noses into the lion's den. see, fires are blazing on all sides, and friends and foes are likely to treat us in the same fashion." van arenberg, anxious for jaqueline's safety, and perhaps for his own, urged his crew to row away from the point where the engagement appeared to be raging most furiously. already round shot and bullets came flying across the water, and a stray one might chance to hit the boat. the men appeared undecided which way to go, when one of them cried out, "there's a boat astern! she may, perchance, be that of an enemy, and if so we shall to a certainty be knocked on the head." "row then for your lives!" cried van arenberg, for he had equally to fear the hollanders and spaniards; the latter, not aware of his treachery, might, before he could show his pass, shoot him down or run him through with their pikes, while his own countrymen would treat him as a hated renegade. the crew, needing no second bidding, bent to their oars with all the strength they possessed. their flight was, however, discovered by the boat they had seen, which immediately gave chase. jaqueline believed that their pursuers were spaniards, and was as eager to escape as the baron, but sturdily as the crew of the villagers whom he had hired plied their oars, the others came on faster. the night was so dark that it was impossible to distinguish objects ahead. at any moment they might find themselves stranded on the shore, or stopped by some impassable shallow. the baron now urged the men to be cautious, now to row with might and main. ever and anon the glare from the burning villages, and from fires on the dykes, showed that the boat in chase was gaining on them. "it were far better to stop and fight," cried the chief man of the crew. "as to escaping, there is no chance of that in the end, for the fellows astern have a much lighter boat than ours." "fifty guilders if you beat them off," cried the baron. "lady, you must lie down at the bottom of the boat, or you may chance to be struck by a shot, or injured by the pikes of our pursuers, should they overtake us." "i fear less the weapons of our foes than i do your designs," answered jaqueline, with a tone of scorn, retaining her seat. there was little time to hold parley on the subject. in another moment the boat was alongside, and a voice in dutch shouted, "yield! inform us whither you are bound." "treachery! treachery!" cried the baron. "they are spaniards; we may yet escape them." but jaqueline recognised the voice. "karl," she exclaimed, "save me, save me!" and she sprang towards the boat. van arenberg would have prevented her reaching it, but his sword whirled from his hand, the next instant he was driven overboard by a thrust from a pike through his breast. a despairing cry was heard, and before the people could clutch his clothes he was swept away by the current. in a few words jaqueline told of the outrage to which she had been subjected. captain van der elst accounted for the circumstance of his having so providentially rescued her by saying that he had been sent to reconnoitre the enemy's position, and supposing that the boat was manned by spaniards he had given chase. she entreated that he would proceed in his duty. "no harm can come to me while i am by your side," she said, scarcely thinking of the interpretation which might be put upon the words she uttered. he pressed her hand. having ordered the villagers' boat to follow at a distance, warning them of the punishment they would receive should they attempt to escape, he continued on till he had performed the duty on which he had been despatched. morning was approaching when he returned to the fleet, which had just broken through the second great dyke and destroyed the villages of zoetermeer and benthuyzen, and now borne on by the rising waters was advancing towards leyden. karl conveyed jaqueline on board the admiral's ship, manned by a savage-looking crew, the wild beggars of the sea. ferocious, however, as they were to their foes, to her they were civil and courteous. eight hundred of them, mostly zealanders, manned the fleet. the greater number were scarred, hacked, and even maimed in the unceasing conflicts in which their lives had been passed, while they were renowned far and wide as much for their nautical skill as their ferocity. their appearance was both eccentric and terrific; they wore crescents in their caps with the inscription, "rather turkish than popish." they were known never to give nor take quarter; they went to mortal combat only. they had sworn to spare neither noble nor simple, neither king, kaiser, nor pope, should they fall into their power. each ship carried ten guns, and was propelled, the smaller by ten, the larger by eighteen oars, the whole fleet having on board , veterans, experienced both on land and water. jaqueline was conducted to the admiral's cabin; it boasted neither of magnificence nor elegance; indeed, very little of comfort, for the vessels had been fitted out for rough work, and no ladies had been expected on board. the stout old admiral welcomed his guest. "you may rest here in security, my pretty maiden," he said; "and i trust ere many days are over to restore you to the arms of your brave father." not long afterwards the order was issued for the fleet once more to advance, and jaqueline's heart beat high with hope, for the second dyke was attacked. the spaniards, scarcely stopping to encounter the enemy, flung away their arms as they saw the dreaded sea rovers approaching. the barrier was quickly broken, and again the fleet pushed forward over the submerged country till it reached north aa. scarcely, however, had the ships arrived there than once more the easterly wind began to blow, driving the waters away from the city. lower and lower they sank, until the ships grounded, and further progress became impossible. the delay sorely tried the patience of the eager crews, and many leaping into the water, attempted to lift their ships over the shallows, but their strength was unequal to the task. there they lay stranded, with scarcely nine inches of water round them. jaqueline's anguish of mind was increased from knowing too well the consequences of the delay to the starving inhabitants of the beleaguered city. though confident of the resolution of her father and the commandant, she was aware of the direful effect which starvation had already produced among the inhabitants. would they continue to hold out? ten thousand spaniards still surrounded the walls, and at any moment might break in, and massacre and rapine would sweep over her native city. night and day she prayed that the dreaded catastrophe might be averted, yet day after day passed, and the fleet lay in sight of the walls, but too far distant for their cannon to reach the enemy. even admiral boisot was in despair. he despatched a letter to the prince, stating his belief that if the spring tides, soon to be expected, should not, together with the strong south-westerly wind, come immediately to their relief, he should be compelled to abandon the expedition. not many hours after the letter had been despatched a large boat was seen rowing swiftly towards the fleet from the southward. she soon came alongside the admiral's ship. a cry, "it is the prince! our noble prince," burst from the throats of the sea rovers as they welcomed him on board, though they observed with sorrow that his commanding figure was fearfully emaciated, his noble face pale as death. he had, indeed, only just risen from a bed of sickness, and few knew how near to death's door he had been, his disease aggravated by a report which had reached him that leyden had fallen, yet all the time he had been directing the plans for bringing the fleet across the land. his countenance assumed a cheerful aspect as he spoke to the almost despairing admiral and his officers. "i know the people of leyden," he said, "they will hold out till you can reach them. ere long the sea will rise. already the water is deeper than when i came on board." the prince was right, he had observed clouds gathering in the south-western horizon, and ere long a strong wind from that quarter began to blow, the tide flowed in, the water swept over the dykes, cheers rose from the throats of the seamen. once more their ships were afloat, sails were spread, the oars run out, and now they went gliding on led by the "ark of delft," until zoetermeer was reached. here a desperate effort was made by the spaniards to stop their progress, but that village and others in the neighbourhood were attacked, the enemy driven out, and they were set on fire. the blaze lighted up the midnight sky, announcing to the fainting garrison that relief was approaching. barrier after barrier was passed, and for many an hour in the midst of the howling storm and pitchy darkness a fierce battle raged. the victorious hollanders pushed further on, but still two forts of great strength, those of zoeterwoude and lammen, lay between them and the city, garrisoned by the enemy's best troops and armed with heavy artillery. they must be captured before the city could be gained. stout as were the rovers' hearts, their vessels, though large, were slightly built, and, except the "ark of delft," were incapable of standing the heavy shot which would be hurled against them. the spanish vessels, hitherto kept in reserve, advanced to the fight, but were quickly sunk, their crews miserably perishing, and ere a shot was fired against zoeterwoude the spaniards were seen in full flight along the top of the dyke leading towards the hague. the rovers followed, leaping from their vessels and slaying all whom they could overtake, many of the fugitives perishing in the fast advancing waves as the dykes crumbled beneath their feet. but yet another fort, that of lammen, the strongest of all, remained, held by the main body of the enemy. the fleet approached, but the admiral dared not expose his ships to the storms of shot hurled towards them, and therefore waited for the return of night, resolving either to make a desperate assault--though he almost despaired of success--or, should the waters rise, to carry his ships round by a circuitous way to the opposite side; but this as yet the depth of water would not allow. that day was one of the deepest anxiety, although the rain and wind which came from the south-west were undoubtedly causing the waters to rise. as evening drew on the storm increased, the night became darker and darker. loud crashes were heard, lights were seen flitting across the black face of the waters proceeding from the direction of the fort, but no one could account for the cause of these sounds and appearances. at length a fearful report ran through the fleet that the enemy had burst into the city, and thus that all the efforts they had made were in vain. still the strange lights appeared and vanished in the darkness; what they portended no one could say. at dawn the admiral issued the order to assault the fortress; the eager crews sprang into their boats fully expecting a desperate encounter, but no shot saluted them, all was silent within. had the spaniards really then, at the last moment, captured the city? the fleet pushed on, though it was believed that some fearful treachery was intended and that they might suddenly be attacked by an overwhelming force. as soon as the ships got near enough, captain van der elst, who had undertaken to lead the assault, plunging into the waters waded towards the fort. as he was striding on a voice from the summit hailed him and he saw young albert van der does who, having crossed from the city and climbed to the top of the embankment, was waving his cap and loudly cheering. karl soon joined him, and they were in time to see the rearguard of the spaniards escaping towards the hague. albert's shouts quickly attracted the attention of the inhabitants of leyden and gave them the first intimation that the enemy had fled. in a few minutes, led by albert, karl was in the presence of the burgomaster, and had assured him both of the success of their enterprise and of his daughter's safety. "god be praised, for he has fought for us," exclaimed the burgomaster. "had not the spaniards fled when they did, what earthly powers could have prevented them from entering our city?" and he pointed to a large portion of the wall which had fallen during the night and left a breach through which the foe might have poured into the streets. the fleet now sailed up through the canals, the famishing people who lined the quays stretching out their hands to receive the food bestowed on them by the rough sea beggars, many of whom dashed aside their tears as they beheld the emaciated forms of the citizens, the corpse-like look of the women and children, and heard their plaintive cries for food. the first act of the brave admiral and his crew was to repair to the great church, accompanied by the commandant, the chief magistrate, and other citizens, to return thanks for their success, then a hymn arose which was abruptly terminated by the sounds of weeping though the tears were those of joy and gratitude. among the first to land, escorted by the brave captain van der elst, who had returned on board for the purpose of conducting her to the shore, was the lily of leyden; he had the happiness of restoring her to her father's arms. the burgomaster, who had hitherto sternly refused to yield to the foe, melted into tears as he embraced his daughter, then turning to captain van der elst, he said-- "you have proved yourself worthy of the fairest in the land; i can no longer refuse to bestow my daughter's hand on one who will, i am sure, in these times of danger protect her with his life." thus was leyden saved after enduring a siege of five months, having experienced sufferings never surpassed by any recorded on the page of history. the prince was the first to acknowledge the deep debt of gratitude holland owed to the heroic fortitude of the noble burgomaster and his fellow-citizens. the people of holland and zealand, to show how much they were indebted to the citizens, established that university which, thus founded at the darkest period of their country's struggle, was in after times to become so celebrated. imposing as were the ceremonies which took place on its establishment, the following winter they were, in the opinion of many, surpassed by the magnificence of the entertainment given on the occasion of the marriage of captain van der elst and the fair lily of leyden. the end. this ebook was produced by david widger corrected and updated text and html pg editions of the complete volume set may be found at: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / .txt http://www.gutenberg.org/files/ / -h/ -h.htm leila or, the siege of granada by edward bulwer lytton book ii. chapter i. the royal tent of spain.--the king and the dominican--the visitor and the hostage. our narrative now summons us to the christian army, and to the tent in which the spanish king held nocturnal counsel with some of his more confidential warriors and advisers. ferdinand had taken the field with all the pomp and circumstance of a tournament rather than of a campaign; and his pavilion literally blazed with purple and cloth of gold. the king sat at the head of a table on which were scattered maps and papers; nor in countenance and mien did that great and politic monarch seem unworthy of the brilliant chivalry by which he was surrounded. his black hair, richly perfumed and anointed, fell in long locks on either side of a high imperial brow, upon whose calm, though not unfurrowed surface, the physiognomist would in vain have sought to read the inscrutable heart of kings. his features were regular and majestic: and his mantle, clasped with a single jewel of rare price and lustre, and wrought at the breast with a silver cross, waved over a vigorous and manly frame, which derived from the composed and tranquil dignity of habitual command that imposing effect which many of the renowned knights and heroes in his presence took from loftier stature and ampler proportions. at his right hand sat prince juan, his son, in the first bloom of youth; at his left, the celebrated rodrigo ponce de leon, marquess of cadiz; along the table, in the order of their military rank, were seen the splendid duke of medina sidonia, equally noble in aspect and in name; the worn and thoughtful countenance of the marquess de villena (the bayard of spain); the melancholy brow of the heroic alonzo de aguilar; and the gigantic frame, the animated features, and sparkling eyes, of that fiery hernando del pulgar, surnamed "the knight of the exploits." "you see, senores," said the king, continuing an address, to which his chiefs seemed to listen with reverential attention, "our best hope of speedily gaining the city is rather in the dissensions of the moors than our own sacred arms. the walls are strong, the population still numerous; and under muza ben abil gazan, the tactics of the hostile army are, it must be owned, administered with such skill as to threaten very formidable delays to the period of our conquest. avoiding the hazard of a fixed battle, the infidel cavalry harass our camp by perpetual skirmishes; and in the mountain defiles our detachments cannot cope with their light horse and treacherous ambuscades. it is true, that by dint of time, by the complete devastation of the vega, and by vigilant prevention of convoys from the seatowns, we might starve the city into yielding. but, alas! my lords, our enemies are scattered and numerous, and granada is not the only place before which the standard of spain should be unfurled. thus situated, the lion does not disdain to serve himself of the fox; and, fortunately, we have now in granada an ally that fights for us. i have actual knowledge of all that passes within the alhambra: the king yet remains in his palace, irresolute and dreaming; and i trust that an intrigue by which his jealousies are aroused against his general, muza, may end either in the loss of that able leader, or in the commotion of open rebellion or civil war. treason within granada will open its gates to us." "sire," said ponce de leon, after a pause, "under your counsels, i no more doubt of seeing our banner float above the vermilion towers, than i doubt the rising of the sun over yonder hills; it matters little whether we win by stratagem or force. but i need not say to your highness, that we should carefully beware lest we be amused by inventions of the enemy, and trust to conspiracies which may be but lying tales to blunt our sabres, and paralyse our action." "bravely spoken, wise de leon!" exclaimed hernando del pulgar, hotly: "and against these infidels, aided by the cunning of the evil one, methinks our best wisdom lies in the sword-arm. well says our old castilian proverb: 'curse them devoutly, hammer them stoutly.'" the king smiled slightly at the ardour of the favourite of his army, but looked round for more deliberate counsel. "sire," said villena, "far be it from us to inquire the grounds upon which your majesty builds your hope of dissension among the foe; but, placing the most sanguine confidence in a wisdom never to be deceived, it is clear that we should relax no energy within our means, but fight while we plot, and seek to conquer, while we do not neglect to undermine." "you speak well, my lord," said ferdinand, thoughtfully; "and you yourself shall head a strong detachment to-morrow, to lay waste the vega. seek me two hours hence; the council for the present is dissolved." the knights rose, and withdrew with the usual grave and stately ceremonies of respect, which ferdinand observed to, and exacted from, his court: the young prince remained. "son," said ferdinand, when they were alone, "early and betimes should the infants of spain be lessoned in the science of kingcraft. these nobles are among the brightest jewels of the crown; but still it is in the crown, and for the crown, that their light should sparkle. thou seest how hot, and fierce, and warlike, are the chiefs of spain-- excellent virtues when manifested against our foes: but had we no foes, juan, such virtues might cause us exceeding trouble. by st. jago, i have founded a mighty monarchy! observe how it should be maintained--by science, juan, by science! and science is as far removed from brute force as this sword from a crowbar. thou seemest bewildered and amazed, my son: thou hast heard that i seek to conquer granada by dissensions among the moors; when granada is conquered, remember that the nobles themselves are at granada. ave maria! blessed be the holy mother, under whose eyes are the hearts of kings!" ferdinand crossed himself devoutly; and then, rising, drew aside a part of the drapery of the pavilion, and called; in a low voice, the name of perez. a grave spaniard, somewhat past the verge of middle age, appeared. "perez," said the king, reseating himself, "has the person we expected from granada yet arrived?" "sire, yes; accompanied by a maiden." "he hath kept his word; admit them. ha! holy father, thy visits are always as balsam to the heart." "save you, my son!" returned a man in the robes of a dominican friar, who had entered suddenly and without ceremony by another part of the tent, and who now seated himself with smileless composure at a little distance from the king. there was a dead silence for some moments; and perez still lingered within the tent, as if in doubt whether the entrance of the friar would not prevent or delay obedience to the king's command. on the calm face of ferdinand himself appeared a slight shade of discomposure and irresolution, when the monk thus resumed: "my presence, my son, will not, i trust, disturb your conference with the infidel--since you deem that worldly policy demands your parley with the men of belial." "doubtless not--doubtless not," returned the king, quickly: then, muttering to himself, "how wondrously doth this holy man penetrate into all our movements and designs!" he added, aloud, "let the messenger enter." perez bowed, and withdrew. during this time, the young prince reclined in listless silence on his seat; and on his delicate features was an expression of weariness which augured but ill of his fitness for the stern business to which the lessons of his wise father were intended to educate his mind. his, indeed, was the age, and his the soul, for pleasure; the tumult of the camp was to him but a holiday exhibition--the march of an army, the exhilaration of a spectacle; the court as a banquet--the throne, the best seat at the entertainment. the life of the heir-apparent, to the life of the king possessive, is as the distinction between enchanting hope and tiresome satiety. the small grey eyes of the friar wandered over each of his royal companions with a keen and penetrating glance, and then settled in the aspect of humility on the rich carpets that bespread the floor; nor did he again lift them till perez, reappearing, admitted to the tent the israelite, almamen, accompanied by a female figure, whose long veil, extending from head to foot, could conceal neither the beautiful proportions nor the trembling agitation, of her frame. "when last, great king, i was admitted to thy presence," said almamen, "thou didst make question of the sincerity and faith of thy servant; thou didst ask me for a surety of my faith; thou didst demand a hostage; and didst refuse further parley without such pledge were yielded to thee. lo! i place under thy kingly care this maiden--the sole child of my house--as surety of my truth; i intrust to thee a life dearer than my own." "you have kept faith with us, stranger," said the king, in that soft and musical voice which well disguised his deep craft and his unrelenting will; "and the maiden whom you intrust to our charge shall be ranked with the ladies of our royal consort." "sire," replied almamen, with touching earnestness, you now hold the power of life and death over all for whom this heart can breathe a prayer or cherish a hope, save for my countrymen and my religion. this solemn pledge between thee and me i render up without scruple, without fear. to thee i give a hostage, from thee i have but a promise." "but it is the promise of a king, a christian, and a knight," said the king, with dignity rather mild than arrogant; "among monarchs, what hostage can be more sacred? let this pass: how proceed affairs in the rebel city?" "may this maiden withdraw, ere i answer my lord the king?" said almamen. the young prince started to his feet. "shall i conduct this new charge to my mother?" he asked, in a low voice, addressing ferdinand. the king half smiled: "the holy father were a better guide," he returned, in the same tone. but, though the dominican heard the hint, he retained his motionless posture; and ferdinand, after a momentary gaze on the friar, turned away. "be it so, juan," said he, with a look meant to convey caution to the prince; "perez shall accompany you to the queen: return the moment your mission is fulfilled--we want your presence." while this conversation was carried on between the father and son, the hebrew was whispering, in his sacred tongue, words of comfort and remonstrance to the maiden; but they appeared to have but little of the desired effect; and, suddenly falling on his breast, she wound her arms around the hebrew, whose breast shook with strong emotions, and exclaimed passionately, in the same language, "oh, my father! what have i done?-- why send me from thee?--why intrust thy child to the stranger? spare me, spare me!" "child of my heart!" returned the hebrew, with solemn but tender accents, "even as abraham offered up his son, must i offer thee, upon the altars of our faith; but, o leila! even as the angel of the lord forbade the offering, so shall thy youth be spared, and thy years reserved for the glory of generations yet unborn. king of spain!" he continued in the spanish tongue, suddenly and eagerly, "you are a father, forgive my weakness, and speed this parting." juan approached; and with respectful courtesy attempted to take the hand of the maiden. "you?" said the israelite, with a dark frown. "o king! the prince is young." "honour knoweth no distinction of age," answered the king. "what ho, perez! accompany this maiden and the prince to the queen's pavilion." the sight of the sober years and grave countenance of the attendant seemed to re-assure the hebrew. he strained leila in his arms; printed a kiss upon her forehead without removing her veil; and then, placing her almost in the arms of perez, turned away to the further end of the tent, and concealed his face with his hands. the king appeared touched; but the dominican gazed upon the whole scene with a sour scowl. leila still paused for a moment; and then, as if recovering her self- possession, said, aloud and distinctly,--"man deserts me; but i will not forget that god is over all." shaking off the hand of the spaniard, she continued, "lead on; i follow thee!" and left the tent with a steady and even majestic step. "and now," said the king, when alone with the dominican and almamen, "how proceed our hopes?" "boabdil," replied the israelite, "is aroused against both his army and their leader, muza; the king will not quit the alhambra; and this morning, ere i left the city, muza himself was in the prisons of the palace." "how!" cried the king, starting from his seat. "this is my work," pursued the hebrew. coldly. "it is these hands that are shaping for ferdinand of spain the keys of granada." "and right kingly shall be your guerdon," said the spanish monarch: "meanwhile, accept this earnest of our favour." so saying, he took from his breast a chain of massive gold, the links of which were curiously inwrought with gems, and extended it to the israelite. almamen moved not. a dark flush upon his countenance bespoke the feelings he with difficulty restrained. "i sell not my foes for gold, great king," said he, with a stern smile: "i sell my foes to buy the ransom of my friends." "churlish!" said ferdinand, offended: "but speak on, man, speak on!" "if i place granada, ere two weeks are past, within thy power, what shall be my reward?" "thou didst talk to me, when last we met, of immunities to the jews." the calm dominican looked up as the king spoke, crossed himself, and resumed his attitude of humility. "i demand for the people of israel," returned almamen, "free leave to trade and abide within the city, and follow their callings, subjected only to the same laws and the same imposts as the christian population." "the same laws, and the same imposts! humph! there are difficulties in the concession. if we refuse?" "our treaty is ended. give me back the maiden--you will have no further need of the hostage you demanded: i return to the city, and renew our interviews no more." politic and cold-blooded as was the temperament of the great ferdinand, he had yet the imperious and haughty nature of a prosperous and long- descended king; and he bit his lip in deep displeasure at the tone of the dictatorial and stately stranger. "thou usest plain language, my friend," said he; "my words can be as rudely spoken. thou art in my power, and canst return not, save at my permission." "i have your royal word, sire, for free entrance and safe egress," answered almamen. "break it, and granada is with the moors till the darro runs red with the blood of her heroes, and her people strew the vales as the leaves in autumn." "art thou then thyself of the jewish faith?" asked the king. "if thou art not, wherefore are the outcasts of the world so dear to thee?" "my fathers were of that creed, royal ferdinand; and if i myself desert their creed, i do not desert their cause. o king! are my terms scorned or accepted?" "i accept them: provided, first, that thou obtainest the exile or death of muza; secondly, that within two weeks of this date thou bringest me, along with the chief councillors of granada, the written treaty of the capitulation, and the keys of the city. do this: and though the sole king in christendom who dares the hazard, i offer to the israelites throughout andalusia the common laws and rights of citizens of spain; and to thee i will accord such dignity as may content thy ambition." the hebrew bowed reverently, and drew from his breast a scroll, which he placed on the table before the king. "this writing, mighty ferdinand, contains the articles of our compact." "how, knave! wouldst thou have us commit our royal signature to conditions with such as thou art, to the chance of the public eye? the king's word is the king's bond!" the hebrew took up the scroll with imperturbable composure, "my child!" said he; "will your majesty summon back my child? we would depart." "a sturdy mendicant this, by the virgin!" muttered the king; and then, speaking aloud, "give me the paper, i will scan it." running his eyes hastily over the words, ferdinand paused a moment, and then drew towards him the implements of writing, signed the scroll, and returned it to almamen. the israelite kissed it thrice with oriental veneration, and replaced it in his breast. ferdinand looked at him hard and curiously. he was a profound reader of men's characters; but that of his guest baffled and perplexed him. "and how, stranger," said he, gravely,--"how can i trust that man who thus distrusts one king and sells another?" "o king!" replied almamen (accustomed from his youth to commune with and command the possessors of thrones yet more absolute),--"o king! if thou believest me actuated by personal and selfish interests in this our compact, thou has but to make, my service minister to my interest, and the lore of human nature will tell thee that thou hast won a ready and submissive slave. but if thou thinkest i have avowed sentiments less abject, and developed qualities higher than those of the mere bargainer for sordid power, oughtest thou not to rejoice that chance has thrown into thy way one whose intellect and faculties may be made thy tool? if i betray another, that other is my deadly foe. dost not thou, the lord of armies, betray thine enemy? the moor is an enemy bitterer to myself than to thee. because i betray an enemy, am i unworthy to serve a friend? if i, a single man, and a stranger to the moor, can yet command the secrets of palaces, and render vain the counsels of armed men, have i not in that attested that i am one of whom a wise king can make an able servant?" "thou art a subtle reasoner, my friend," said ferdinand, smiling gently. "peace go with thee! our conference for the time is ended. what ho, perez!" the attendant appeared. "thou hast left the maiden with the queen?" "sire, you have been obeyed." "conduct this stranger to the guard who led him through the camp. he quits us under the same protection. farewell! yet stay--thou art assured that muza ben abil gazan is in the prisons of the moor?" "yes." "blessed be the virgin!" "thou hast heard our conference, father tomas?" said the king, anxiously, when the hebrew had withdrawn. "i have, son." "did thy veins freeze with horror?" "only when my son signed the scroll. it seemed to me then that i saw the cloven foot of the tempter." "tush, father, the tempter would have been more wise than to reckon upon a faith which no ink and no parchment can render valid, if the church absolve the compact. thou understandest me, father?" "i do. i know your pious heart and well-judging mind." "thou wert right," resumed the king, musingly, "when thou didst tell us that these caitiff jews were waxing strong in the fatness of their substance. they would have equal laws--the insolent blasphemers!" "son!" said the dominican, with earnest adjuration, "god, who has prospered your arms and councils, will require at your hands an account of the power intrusted to you. shall there be no difference between his friends and his foes--his disciples and his crucifiers?" "priest," said the king, laying his hand on the monk's shoulder, and with a saturnine smile upon his countenance, "were religion silent in this matter, policy has a voice loud enough to make itself heard. the jews demand equal rights; when men demand equality with their masters, treason is at work, and justice sharpens her sword. equality! these wealthy usurers! sacred virgin! they would be soon buying up our kingdoms." the dominican gazed hard on the king. "son, i trust thee," he said, in a low voice, and glided from the tent. chapter ii. the ambush, the strife, and the capture. the dawn was slowly breaking over the wide valley of granada, as almamen pursued his circuitous and solitary path back to the city. he was now in a dark and entangled hollow, covered with brakes and bushes, from amidst which tall forest trees rose in frequent intervals, gloomy and breathless in the still morning air. as, emerging from this jungle, if so it may be called, the towers of granada gleamed upon him, a human countenance peered from the shade; and almamen started to see two dark eyes fixed upon his own. he halted abruptly, and put his hand on his dagger, when a low sharp whistle from the apparition before him was answered around--behind; and, ere he could draw breath, the israelite was begirt by a group of moors, in the garb of peasants. "well, my masters," said almamen, calmly, as he encountered the wild savage countenances that glared upon him, "think you there is aught to fear from the solitary santon?" "it is the magician," whispered one man to his neighbour--"let him pass." "nay," was the answer, "take him before the captain; we have orders to seize upon all we meet." this counsel prevailed; and gnashing his teeth with secret rage, almamen found himself hurried along by the peasants through the thickest part of the copse. at length, the procession stopped in a semicircular patch of rank sward, in which several head of cattle were quietly grazing, and a yet more numerous troop of peasants reclined around upon the grass. "whom have we here?" asked a voice which startled back the dark blood from almamen's cheek; and a moor of commanding presence rose from the midst of his brethren. "by the beard of the prophet, it is the false santon! what dost thou from granada at this hour?" "noble muza," returned almamen--who, though indeed amazed that one whom he had imagined his victim was thus unaccountably become his judge, retained, at least, the semblance of composure--"my answer is to be given only to my lord the king; it is his commands that i obey." "thou art aware," said muza, frowning, "that thy life is forfeited without appeal? whatsoever inmate of granada is found without the walls between sunrise and sunset, dies the death of a traitor and deserter." "the servants of the alhambra are excepted," answered the israelite, without changing countenance. "ah!" muttered muza, as a painful and sudden thought seemed to cross him, "can it be possible that the rumour of the city has truth, and that the monarch of granada is in treaty with the foe?" he mused a little; and then, motioning the moors to withdraw, he continued aloud, "almamen, answer me truly: hast thou sought the christian camp with any message from the king?" "i have not." "art thou without the walls on the mission of the king?" "if i be so, i am a traitor to the king should i reveal his secret." "i doubt thee much, santon," said muza, after a pause; "i know thee for my enemy, and i do believe thy counsels have poisoned the king's ear against me, his people and his duties. but no matter, thy life is spared a while; thou remainest with us, and with us shalt thou return to the king." "but, noble muza----" "i have said! guard the santon; mount him upon one of our chargers; he shall abide with us in our ambush." while almamen chafed in vain at his arrest, all in the christian camp was yet still. at length, as the sun began to lift himself above the mountains, first a murmur, and then a din, betokened warlike preparations. several parties of horse, under gallant and experienced leaders, formed themselves in different quarters, and departed in different ways, on expeditions of forage, or in the hope of skirmish with the straggling detachments of the enemy. of these, the best equipped, was conducted by the marquess de villena, and his gallant brother don alonzo de pacheco. in this troop, too, rode many of the best blood of spain; for in that chivalric army, the officers vied with each other who should most eclipse the meaner soldiery in feats of personal valour; and the name of villena drew around him the eager and ardent spirits that pined at the general inactivity of ferdinand's politic campaign. the sun, now high in heaven, glittered on the splendid arms and gorgeous pennons of villena's company, as, leaving the camp behind, it entered a rich and wooded district that skirts the mountain barrier of the vega. the brilliancy of the day, the beauty of the scene, the hope and excitement of enterprise, animated the spirits of the whole party. in these expeditions strict discipline was often abandoned, from the certainty that it could be resumed at need. conversation, gay and loud, interspersed at times with snatches of song, was heard amongst the soldiery; and in the nobler group that rode with villena, there was even less of the proverbial gravity of spaniards. "now, marquess," said don estevon de suzon, "what wager shall be between us as to which lance this day robs moorish beauty of the greatest number of its worshippers?" "my falchion against your jennet," said don alonzo de pacheco, taking up the challenge. "agreed. but, talking of beauty, were you in the queen's pavilion last night, noble marquess? it was enriched by a new maiden, whose strange and sudden apparition none can account for. her eyes would have eclipsed the fatal glance of cava; and had i been rodrigo, i might have lost a crown for her smile." "ay," said villena, "i heard of her beauty; some hostage from one of the traitor moors, with whom the king (the saints bless him!) bargains for the city. they tell me the prince incurred the queen's grave rebuke for his attentions to the maiden." "and this morning i saw that fearful father tomas steal into the prince's tent. i wish don juan well through the lecture. the monk's advice is like the algarroba;--[the algarroba is a sort of leguminous plant common in spain]--when it is laid up to dry it may be reasonably wholesome, but it is harsh and bitter enough when taken fresh." at this moment one of the subaltern officers rode up to the marquess, and whispered in his ear. "ha!" said villena, "the virgin be praised! sir knights, booty is at hand. silence! close the ranks." with that, mounting a little eminence, and shading his eyes with his hand, the marquess surveyed the plain below; and, at some distance, he beheld a horde of moorish peasants driving some cattle into a thick copse. the word was hastily given, the troop dashed on, every voice was hushed, and the clatter of mail, and the sound of hoofs, alone broke the delicious silence of the noon-day landscape. ere they reached the copse, the peasants had disappeared within it. the marquess marshalled his men in a semicircle round the trees, and sent on a detachment to the rear, to cut off every egress from the wood. this done the troop dashed within. for the first few yards the space was more open than they had anticipated: but the ground soon grew uneven, rugged, and almost precipitous, and the soil, and the interlaced trees, alike forbade any rapid motion to the horse. don alonzo de pacheco, mounted on a charger whose agile and docile limbs had been tutored to every description of warfare, and himself of light weight and incomparable horsemanship--dashed on before the rest. the trees hid him for a moment; when suddenly, a wild yell was heard, and as it ceased uprose the solitary voice of the spaniard, shouting, "_santiago, y cierra_, espana; st. jago, and charge, spain!" each cavalier spurred forward; when suddenly, a shower of darts and arrows rattled on their armour; and upsprung from bush and reeds, and rocky clift, a number of moors, and with wild shouts swarmed around the spaniards. "back for your lives!" cried villena; "we are beset--make for the level ground!" he turned-spurred from the thicket, and saw the paynim foe emerging through the glen, line after line of man and horse; each moor leading his slight and fiery steed by the bridle, and leaping on it as he issued from the wood into the plain. cased in complete mail, his visor down, his lance in its rest, villena (accompanied by such of his knights as could disentangle themselves from the moorish foot) charged upon the foe. a moment of fierce shock passed: on the ground lay many a moor, pierced through by the christian lance; and on the other side of the foe was heard the voice of villena--"st. jago to the rescue!" but the brave marquess stood almost alone, save his faithful chamberlain, solier. several of his knights were dismounted, and swarms of moors, with lifted knives, gathered round them as they lay, searching for the joints of the armour, which might admit a mortal wound. gradually, one by one, many of villena's comrades joined their leader, and now the green mantle of don alonzo de pacheco was seen waving without the copse, and villena congratulated himself on the safety of his brother. just at that moment, a moorish cavalier spurred from his troop, and met pacheco in full career. the moor was not clad, as was the common custom of the paynim nobles, in the heavy christian armour. he wore the light flexile mail of the ancient heroes of araby or fez. his turban, which was protected by chains of the finest steel interwoven with the folds, was of the most dazzling white--white, also, were his tunic and short mantle; on his left arm hung a short circular shield, in his right hand was poised a long and slender lance. as this moor, mounted on a charger in whose raven hue not a white hair could be detected, dashed forward against pacheco, both christian and moor breathed hard, and remained passive. either nation felt it as a sacrilege to thwart the encounter of champions so renowned. "god save my brave brother!" muttered villena, anxiously. "amen," said those around him; for all who had ever witnessed the wildest valour in that war, trembled as they recognised the dazzling robe and coal-black charger of muza ben abil gazan. nor was that renowned infidel mated with an unworthy foe. "pride of the tournament, and terror of the war," was the favourite title which the knights and ladies of castile had bestowed on don alonzo de pacheco. when the spaniard saw the redoubted moor approach, he halted abruptly for a moment, and then, wheeling his horse around, took a wider circuit, to give additional impetus to his charge. the moor, aware of his purpose, halted also, and awaited the moment of his rush; when once more he darted forward, and the combatants met with a skill which called forth a cry of involuntary applause from the christians themselves. muza received on the small surface of his shield the ponderous spear of alonzo, while his own light lance struck upon the helmet of the christian, and by the exactness of the aim rather than the weight of the blow, made alonzo reel in his saddle. the lances were thrown aside--the long broad falchion of the christian, the curved damascus cimiter of the moor, gleamed in the air. they reined their chargers opposite each other in grave and deliberate silence. "yield thee, sir knight!" at length cried the fierce moor, "for the motto on my cimiter declares that if thou meetest its stroke, thy days are numbered. the sword of the believer is the key of heaven and hell." --[such, says sale, is the poetical phrase of the mohammedan divines.] "false paynim," answered alonzo, in a voice that rung hollow through his helmet, "a christian knight is the equal of a moorish army!" muza made no reply, but left the rein of his charger on his neck; the noble animal understood the signal, and with a short impatient cry rushed forward at full speed. alonzo met the charge with his falchion upraised, and his whole body covered with his shield; the moor bent--the spaniards raised a shout--muza seemed stricken from his horse. but the blow of the heavy falchion had not touched him: and, seemingly without an effort, the curved blade of his own cimiter, gliding by that part of his antagonist's throat where the helmet joins the cuirass, passed unresistingly and silently through the joints; and alonzo fell at once, and without a groan, from his horse--his armour, to all appearance, unpenetrated, while the blood oozed slow and gurgling from a mortal wound. "allah il allah!" shouted muza, as he joined his friends; "lelilies! lelilies!" echoed the moors; and ere the christians recovered their dismay, they were engaged hand to hand with their ferocious and swarming foes. it was, indeed, fearful odds; and it was a marvel to the spaniards how the moors had been enabled to harbour and conceal their numbers in so small a space. horse and foot alike beset the company of villena, already sadly reduced; and while the infantry, with desperate and savage fierceness, thrust themselves under the very bellies of the chargers, encountering both the hoofs of the steed and the deadly lance of the rider, in the hope of finding a vulnerable place for the sharp moorish knife,--the horsemen, avoiding the stern grapple of the spaniard warriors, harrassed them by the shaft and lance,--now advancing, now retreating, and performing, with incredible rapidity, the evolutions of oriental cavalry. but the life and soul of his party was the indomitable muza. with a rashness which seemed to the superstitious spaniards like the safety of a man protected by magic, he spurred his ominous black barb into the very midst of the serried phalanx which villena endeavoured to form around him, breaking the order by his single charge, and from time to time bringing to the dust some champion of the troop by the noiseless and scarce-seen edge of his fatal cimiter. villena, in despair alike of fame and life, and gnawed with grief for his brother's loss, at length resolved to put the last hope of the battle on his single arm. he gave the signal for retreat; and to protect his troop, remained himself, alone and motionless, on his horse, like a statue of iron. though not of large frame, he was esteemed the best swordsman, next only to hernando del pulgar and gonsalvo de cordova, in the army; practised alike in the heavy assault of the christian warfare, and the rapid and dexterous exercise of the moorish cavalry. there he remained, alone and grim--a lion at bay--while his troops slowly retreated down the vega, and their trumpets sounded loud signals of distress, and demands for succour, to such of their companions as might be within bearing. villena's armour defied the shafts of the moors; and as one after one darted towards him, with whirling cimiter and momentary assault, few escaped with impunity from an eye equally quick and a weapon more than equally formidable. suddenly, a cloud of dust swept towards him; and muza, a moment before at the further end of the field, came glittering through that cloud, with his white robe waving and his right arm bare. villena recognised him, set his teeth hard, and putting spurs to his charger, met the rush. muza swerved aside, just as the heavy falchion swung over his head, and by a back stroke of his own cimiter, shore through the cuirass just above the hip-joint, and the blood followed the blade. the brave cavaliers saw the danger of their chief; three of their number darted forward, and came in time to separate the combatants. muza stayed not to encounter the new reinforcement; but speeding across the plain, was soon seen rallying his own scattered cavalry, and pouring them down, in one general body, upon the scanty remnant of the spaniards. "our day is come!" said the good knight villena, with bitter resignation. "nothing is left for us, my friends, but to give up our lives--an example how spanish warriors should live and die. may god and the holy mother forgive our sins and shorten our purgatory!" just as he spoke, a clarion was heard at a distance and the sharpened senses of the knights caught the ring of advancing hoofs. "we are saved!" cried estevon de suzon, rising on his stirrups. while he spoke, the dashing stream of the moorish horse broke over the little band; and estevon beheld bent upon himself the dark eyes and quivering lip of muza ben abil gazan. that noble knight had never, perhaps, till then known fear; but he felt his heart stand still, as he now stood opposed to that irresistible foe. "the dark fiend guides his blade!" thought de suzon; "but i was shriven but yestermorn." the thought restored his wonted courage; and he spurred on to meet the cimiter of the moor. his assault took muza by surprise. the moor's horse stumbled over the ground, cumbered with the dead and slippery with blood, and his uplifted cimiter could not do more than break the force of the gigantic arm of de suzon; as the knight's falchion bearing down the cimiter, and alighting on the turban of the mohammedan, clove midway through its folds, arrested only by the admirable temper of the links of steel which protected it. the shock hurled the moor to the ground. he rolled under the saddle- girths of his antagonist. "victory and st. jago!" cried the knight, "muza is--" the sentence was left eternally unfinished. the blade of the fallen moor had already pierced de suzoii's horse through a mortal but undefended part. it fell, bearing his rider with him. a moment, and the two champions lay together grappling in the dust; in the next, the short knife which the moor wore in his girdle had penetrated the christian's visor, passing through the brain. to remount his steed, that remained at band, humbled and motionless, to appear again amongst the thickest of the fray, was a work no less rapidly accomplished than had been the slaughter of the unhappy estevon de suzon. but now the fortune of the day was stopped in a progress hitherto so triumphant to the moors. pricking fast over the plain were seen the glittering horsemen of the christian reinforcements; and, at the remoter distance, the royal banner of spain, indistinctly descried through volumes of dust, denoted that ferdinand himself was advancing to the support of his cavaliers. the moors, however, who had themselves received many and mysterious reinforcements, which seemed to spring up like magic from the bosom of the earth--so suddenly and unexpectedly had they emerged from copse and cleft in that mountainous and entangled neighbourhood--were not unprepared for a fresh foe. at the command of the vigilant muza, they drew off, fell into order, and, seizing, while yet there was time, the vantage-ground which inequalities of the soil and the shelter of the trees gave to their darts and agile horse, they presented an array which ponce de leon himself, who now arrived, deemed it more prudent not to assault. while villena, in accents almost inarticulate with rage, was urging the marquess of cadiz to advance, ferdinand, surrounded by the flower of his court, arrived at the rear of the troops and after a few words interchanged with ponce de leon, gave the signal to retreat. when the moors beheld that noble soldiery slowly breaking ground, and retiring towards the camp, even muza could not control their ardour. they rushed forward, harassing the retreat of the christians, and delaying the battle by various skirmishes. it was at this time that the headlong valour of hernando del pulgar, who had arrived with ponce de leon, distinguished itself in feats which yet live in the songs of spain. mounted upon an immense steed, and himself of colossal strength, he was seen charging alone upon the assailants, and scattering numbers to the ground with the sweep of his enormous two- handed falchion. with a loud voice, he called on muza to oppose him; but the moor, fatigued with slaughter, and scarcely recovered from the shock of his encounter with de suzon, reserved so formidable a foe for a future contest. it was at this juncture, while the field was covered with straggling skirmishers, that a small party of spaniards, in cutting their way to the main body of their countrymen through one of the numerous copses held by the enemy, fell in at the outskirt with an equal number of moors, and engaged them in a desperate conflict, hand to hand. amidst the infidels was one man who took no part in the affray: at a little distance, he gazed for a few moments upon the fierce and relentless slaughter of moor and christian with a smile of stern and complacent delight; and then taking advantage of the general confusion, rode gently, and, as he hoped, unobserved, away from the scene. but he was not destined so quietly to escape. a spaniard perceived him, and, from something strange and unusual in his garb, judged him one of the moorish leaders; and presently almamen, for it was he, beheld before him the uplifted falchion of a foe neither disposed to give quarter nor to hear parley. brave though the israelite was, many reasons concurred to prevent his taking a personal part against the soldier of spain; and seeing he should have no chance of explanation, he fairly puts spurs to his horse, and galloped across the plain. the spaniard followed, gained upon him, and almamen at length turned, in despair and the wrath of his haughty nature. "have thy will, fool!" said he, between his grinded teeth, as he griped his dagger and prepared for the conflict. it was long and obstinate, for the spaniard was skilful; and the hebrew wearing no mail, and without any weapon more formidable than a sharp and well-tempered dagger, was forced to act cautiously on the defensive. at length the combatants grappled, and, by a dexterous thrust, the short blade of almamen pierced the throat of his antagonist, who fell prostrate to the ground. "i am safe," he thought, as he wheeled round his horse; when lo! the spaniards he had just left behind, and who had now routed their antagonists, were upon him. "yield, or die!" cried the leader of the troop. almamen glared round; no succour was at hand. "i am not your enemy," said he, sullenly, throwing down his weapon--"bear me to your camp." a trooper seized his rein, and, scouring along, the spaniards soon reached the retreating army. meanwhile the evening darkened, the shout and the roar grew gradually less loud and loud---the battle had ceased--the stragglers had joined their several standards and, by the light of the first star, the moorish force, bearing their wounded brethren, and elated with success, re-entered the gates of granada, as the black charger of the hero of the day, closing the rear of the cavalry, disappeared within the gloomy portals. chapter iii. the hero in the power of the dreamer. it was in the same chamber, and nearly at the same hour, in which we first presented to the reader boabdil el chico, that we are again admitted to the presence of that ill-starred monarch. he was not alone. his favourite slave, amine, reclined upon the ottomans, gazing with anxious love upon his thoughtful countenance, as he leant against the glittering wall by the side of the casement, gazing abstractedly on the scene below. from afar he heard the shouts of the populace at the return of muza, and bursts of artillery confirmed the tidings of triumph which had already been borne to his ear. "may the king live for ever!" said amine, timidly; "his armies have gone forth to conquer." "but without their king," replied boabdil, bitterly, and headed by a traitor and a foe. i am meshed in the nets of an inextricable fate!" "oh!" said the slave, with sudden energy, as, clasping her hands, she rose from her couch,--"oh, my lord, would that these humble lips dared utter other words than those of love!" "and what wise counsel would they give me?" asked boabdil with a faint smile. "speak on." "i will obey thee, then, even if it displease," cried amine; and she rose, her cheek glowing, her eyes spark ling, her beautiful form dilated. "i am a daughter of granada; i am the beloved of a king; i will be true to my birth and to my fortunes. boabdil el chico, the last of a line of heroes, shake off these gloomy fantasies--these doubts and dreams that smother the fire of a great nature and a kingly soul! awake--arise--rob granada of her muza--be thyself her muza! trustest thou to magic and to spells? then grave them on they breastplate, write them on thy sword, and live no longer the dreamer of the alhambra; become the saviour of thy people!" boabdil turned, and gazed on the inspired and beautiful form before him with mingled emotions of surprise and shame. "out of the mouth of woman cometh my rebuke!" said he sadly. "it is well!" "pardon me, pardon me!" said the slave, falling humbly at his knees; "but blame me not that i would have thee worthy of thyself. wert thou not happier, was not thy heart more light and thy hope more strong when, at the head of thine armies, thine own cimiter slew thine own foes, and the terror of the hero-king spread, in flame and slaughter, from the mountains to the seas. boabdil! dear as thou art to me-equally as i would have loved thee hadst thou been born a lowly fisherman of the darro, since thou art a king, i would have thee die a king; even if my own heart broke as i armed thee for thy latest battle!" "thou knowest not what thou sayest, amine," said boabdil, "nor canst thou tell what spirits that are not of earth dictate to the actions and watch over the destinies, of the rulers of nations. if i delay, if i linger, it is not from terror, but from wisdom. the cloud must gather on, dark and slow, ere the moment for the thunderbolt arrives." "on thine own house will the thunderbolt fall, since over thine own house thou sufferest the cloud to gather," said a calm and stern voice. boabdil started; and in the chamber stood a third person, in the shape of a woman, past middle age, and of commanding port and stature. upon her long-descending robes of embroidered purple were thickly woven jewels of royal price, and her dark hair, slightly tinged with grey, parted over a majestic brow while a small diadem surmounted the folds of the turban. "my mother!" said boabdil, with some haughty reserve in his tone; "your presence is unexpected." "ay," answered ayxa la horra, for it was indeed that celebrated, and haughty, and high-souled queen, "and unwelcome; so is ever that of your true friends. but not thus unwelcome was the presence of your mother, when her brain and her hand delivered you from the dungeon in which your stern father had cast your youth, and the dagger and the bowl seemed the only keys that would unlock the cell." "and better hadst thou left the ill-omened son that thy womb conceived, to die thus in youth, honoured and lamented, than to live to manhood, wrestling against an evil star and a relentless fate." "son," said the queen, gazing upon him with lofty and half disdainful compassion, "men's conduct shapes out their own fortunes, and the unlucky are never the valiant and the wise." "madam," said boabdil, colouring with passion, "i am still a king, nor will i be thus bearded--withdraw!" ere the queen could reply, a eunuch entered, and whispered boabdil. "ha!" said he, joyfully, stamping his foot, "comes he then to brave the lion in his den? let the rebel look to it. is he alone?" "alone, great king." "bid my guards wait without; let the slightest signal summon them. amine, retire! madam--" "son!" interrupted ayxa la horra in visible agitation, "do i guess aright? is the brave muza--the sole bulwark and hope of granada--whom unjustly thou wouldst last night have placed in chains--(chains! great prophet! is it thus a king should reward his heroes)--is, i say, muza here? and wilt thou make him the victim of his own generous trust?" "retire, woman?" said boabdil, sullenly. "i will not, save by force! i resisted a fiercer soul than thine when i saved thee from thy father." "remain, then, if thou wilt, and learn how kings can punish traitors. mesnour, admit the hero of granada." amine had vanished. boabdil seated himself on the cushions his face calm but pale. the queen stood erect at a little distance, her arms folded on her breast, and her aspect knit and resolute. in a few moments muza entered alone. he approached the king with the profound salutation of oriental obeisance; and then stood before him with downcast eyes, in an attitude from which respect could not divorce a natural dignity and pride of mien. "prince," said boabdil, after a moment's pause, "yestermorn, when i sent for thee thou didst brave my orders. even in mine own alhambra thy minions broke out in mutiny; they surrounded the fortress in which thou wert to wait my pleasure; they intercepted, they insulted, they drove back my guards; they stormed the towers protected by the banner of thy king. the governor, a coward or a traitor, rendered thee to the rebellious crowd. was this all? no, by the prophet! thou, by right my captive, didst leave thy prison but to head mine armies. and this day, the traitor subject--the secret foe--was the leader of a people who defy a king. this night thou comest to me unsought. thou feelest secure from my just wrath, even in my palace. thine insolence blinds and betrays thee. man, thou art in my power! ho, there!" as the king spoke, he rose; and, presently, the arcades at the back of the pavilion were darkened by long lines of the ethiopian guard, each of height which, beside the slight moorish race, appeared gigantic; stolid and passionless machines, to execute, without thought, the bloodiest or the slightest caprice of despotism. there they stood; their silver breastplates and long earrings contrasting their dusky skins; and bearing, over their shoulders, immense clubs studded with brazen nails. a little advanced from the rest, stood the captain, with the fatal bowstring hanging carelessly on his arm, and his eyes intent to catch the slightest gesture of the king. "behold!" said boabdil to his prisoner. "i do; and am prepared for what i have foreseen." the queen grew pale, but continued silent. muza resumed-- "lord of the faithful!" said he, "if yestermorn i had acted otherwise, it would have been to the ruin of thy throne and our common race. the fierce zegris suspected and learned my capture. they summoned the troops they delivered me, it is true. at that time had i reasoned with them, it would have been as drops upon a flame. they were bent on besieging thy palace, perhaps upon demanding thy abdication. i could not stifle their fury, but i could direct it. in the moment of passion, i led them from rebellion against our common king to victory against our common foe. that duty done, i come unscathed from the sword of the christian to bare my neck to the bowstring of my friend. alone, untracked, unsuspected, i have entered thy palace to prove to the sovereign of granada, that the defendant of his throne is not a rebel to his will. now summon the guards--i have done." "muza!" said boabdil, in a softened voice, while he shaded his face with his hand, "we played together as children, and i have loved thee well: my kingdom even now, perchance, is passing from me, but i could almost be reconciled to that loss, if i thought thy loyalty had not left me." "dost thou, in truth, suspect the faith of muza ben abil gazan?" said the moorish prince, in a tone of surprise and sorrow. "unhappy king! i deemed that my services, and not my defection, made my crime." "why do my people hate me? why do my armies menace?" said boabdil, evasively; "why should a subject possess that allegiance which a king cannot obtain?" "because," replied muza, boldly, "the king has delegated to a subject the command he should himself assume. oh, boabdil!" he continued, passionately--"friend of my boyhood, ere the evil days came upon us,-- gladly would i sink to rest beneath the dark waves of yonder river, if thy arm and brain would fill up my place amongst the warriors of granada. and think not i say this only from our boyish love; think not i have placed my life in thy hands only from that servile loyalty to a single man, which the false chivalry of christendom imposes as a sacred creed upon its knights and nobles. but i speak and act but from one principle --to save the religion of, my father and the land of my birth: for this i have risked my life against the foe; for this i surrender my life to the sovereign of my country. granada may yet survive, if monarch and people unite together. granada is lost for ever, if her children, at this fatal hour, are divided against themselves. if, then, i, o boabdil! am the true obstacle to thy league with thine own subjects, give me at once to the bowstring, and my sole prayer shall be for the last remnant of the moorish name, and the last monarch of the moorish dynasty." "my son, my son! art thou convinced at last?" cried the queen, struggling with her tears; for she was one who wept easily at heroic sentiments, but never at the softer sorrows, or from the more womanly emotions. boabdil lifted his head with a vain and momentary attempt at pride; his eye glanced from his mother to his friend, and his better feelings gushed upon him with irresistible force; he threw himself into muza's arms. "forgive me," he said, in broken accents, "forgive me! how could i have wronged thee thus? yes," he continued, as he started from the noble breast on which for a moment he indulged no ungenerous weakness,--"yes, prince, your example shames, but it fires me. granada henceforth shall have two chieftains; and if i be jealous of thee, it shall be from an emulation thou canst not blame. guards, retire. mesnour! ho, mesnour! proclaim at daybreak that i myself will review the troops in the vivarrambla. yet"--and, as he spoke his voice faltered, and his brow became overcast, "yet stay, seek me thyself at daybreak, and i will give thee my commands." "oh, my son! why hesitate?" cried the queen, "why waver? prosecute thine own kingly designs, and--" "hush, madam," said boabdil, regaining his customary cold composure; "and since you are now satisfied with your son, leave me alone with muza." the queen sighed heavily; but there was something in the calm of boabdil which chilled and awed her more than his bursts of passion. she drew her veil around her, and passed slowly and reluctantly from the chamber. "muza," said boabdil, when alone with the prince, and fixing his large and thoughtful eyes upon the dark orbs of his companion,--"when, in our younger days, we conversed together, do you remember how often that converse turned upon those solemn and mysterious themes to which the sages of our ancestral land directed their deepest lore; the enigmas of the stars--the science of fate--the wild searches into the clouded future, which hides the destines of nations and of men? thou rememberest, muza, that to such studies mine own vicissitudes and sorrows, even in childhood--the strange fortunes which gave me in my cradle the epithet of el zogoybi--the ominous predictions of santons and astrologers as to the trials of my earthly fate,--all contributed to incline my soul. thou didst not despise those earnest musings, nor our ancestral lore, though, unlike me, ever more inclined to action than to contemplation, that which thou mightest believe had little influence upon what thou didst design. with me it hath been otherwise; every event of life hath conspired to feed my early prepossessions; and, in this awful crisis of my fate, i have placed myself and my throne rather under the guardianship of spirits than of men. this alone has reconciled me to inaction--to the torpor of the alhambra--to the mutinies of my people. i have smiled, when foes surround and friends deserted me, secure of the aid at last--if i bided but the fortunate hour--of the charms of protecting spirits, and the swords of the invisible creation. thou wonderest what this should lead to. listen! two nights since (and the king shuddered) i was with the dead! my father appeared before me--not as i knew him in life--gaunt and terrible, full of the vigour of health, and the strength of kingly empire, and of fierce passion--but wan, calm, shadowy. from lips on which azrael had set his livid seal, he bade me beware of thee!" the king ceased suddenly; and sought to read on the face of muza the effect his words produced. but the proud and swarthy features of the moor evinced no pang of conscience; a slight smile of pity might have crossed his lip for a moment, but it vanished ere the king could detect it. boabdil continued: "under the influence of this warning, i issued the order for thy arrest. let this pass--i resume my tale. i attempted to throw myself at the spectre's feet--it glided from me, motionless and impalpable. i asked the dead one if he forgave his unhappy son the sin of rebellion alas! too well requited even upon earth. and the voice again came forth, and bade me keep the crown that i had gained, as the sole atonement for the past. then again i asked, whether the hour for action had arrived! and the spectre, while it faded gradually into air, answered, 'no!' 'oh!' i exclaimed, 'ere thou leavest me, be one sign accorded me, that i have not dreamt this vision; and give me, i pray thee, note and warning, when the evil star of boabdil shall withhold its influence, and he may strike, without resistance from the powers above, for his glory and his throne.' 'the sign and the warning are bequeathed thee,' answered the ghostly image. it vanished,--thick darkness fell around; and, when once more the light of the lamps we bore became visible, behold there stood before me a skeleton, in the regal robe of the kings of granada, and on its grisly head was the imperial diadem. with one hand raised, it pointed to the opposite wall, wherein burned, like an orb of gloomy fire, a broad dial- plate, on which were graven these words, beware--fear not--arm! the finger of the dial moved rapidly round, and rested at the word beware. from that hour to the one in which i last beheld it, it hath not moved. muza, the tale is done; wilt thou visit with me this enchanted chamber, and see if the hour be come?" "commander of the faithful," said muza, "the story is dread and awful. but pardon thy friend--wert thou alone, or was the santon almamen thy companion?" "why the question?" said boabdil, evasively, and slightly colouring. "i fear his truth," answered muza; "the christian king conquers more foes by craft than force; and his spies are more deadly than his warriors. wherefore this caution against me, but (pardon me) for thine own undoing? were i a traitor, could ferdinand himself have endangered thy crown so imminently as the revenge of the leader of thine own armies? why, too, this desire to keep thee inactive? for the brave every hour hath its chances; but, for us, every hour increases our peril. if we seize not the present time,--our supplies are cut off,--and famine is a foe all our valour cannot resist. this dervise--who is he? a stranger, not of our race and blood. but this morning i found him without the walls, not far from the spaniard's camp." "ha!" cried the king, quickly, "and what said he?" "little, but in hints; sheltering himself, by loose hints, under thy name." "he! what dared he own?--muza, what were those hints?" the moor here recounted the interview with almamen, his detention, his inactivity in the battle, and his subsequent capture by the spaniards. the king listened attentively, and regained his composure. "it is a strange and awful man," said he after a pause. "guards and chains will not detain him. ere long he will return. but thou, at least, muza, are henceforth free, alike from the suspicion of the living and the warnings of the dead. no, my friend," continued boabdil, with generous warmth, "it is better to lose a crown, to lose life itself, than confidence in a heart like thine. come, let us inspect this magic tablet; perchance--and how my heart bounds as i utter the hope!--the hour may have arrived." chapter iv. a fuller view of the character of boabdil.--muza in the gardens of his beloved. muza ben abil gazan returned from his visit to boabdil with a thoughtful and depressed spirit. his arguments had failed to induce the king to disdain the command of the magic dial, which still forbade him to arm against the invaders; and although the royal favour was no longer withdrawn from himself, the moor felt that such favour hung upon a capricious and uncertain tenure so long as his sovereign was the slave of superstition or imposture. but that noble warrior, whose character the adversity of his country had singularly exalted and refined, even while increasing its natural fierceness, thought little of himself in comparison with the evils and misfortunes which the king's continued irresolution must bring upon granada. "so brave, and yet so weak," thought he; "so weak, and yet so obstinate; so wise a reasoner, yet so credulous a dupe! unhappy boabdil! the stars, indeed, seem to fight against thee, and their influences at thy birth marred all thy gifts and virtues with counteracting infirmity and error." muza,--more perhaps than any subject in granada,--did justice to the real character of the king; but even he was unable to penetrate all its complicated and latent mysteries. boabdil el chico was no ordinary man; his affections were warm and generous, his nature calm and gentle; and, though early power, and the painful experience of a mutinous people and ungrateful court, had imparted to that nature an irascibility of temper and a quickness of suspicion foreign to its earlier soil, he was easily led back to generosity and justice; and, if warm in resentment, was magnanimous in forgiveness. deeply accomplished in all the learning of his race and time, he was--in books, at least--a philosopher; and, indeed, his attachment to the abstruser studies was one of the main causes which unfitted him for his present station. but it was the circumstances attendant on his birth and childhood that had perverted his keen and graceful intellect to morbid indulgence in mystic reveries, and all the doubt, fear, and irresolution of a man who pushes metaphysics into the supernatural world. dark prophecies accumulated omens over his head; men united in considering him born to disastrous destinies. whenever he had sought to wrestle against hostile circumstances, some seemingly accidental cause, sudden and unforeseen, had blasted the labours of his most vigorous energy,--the fruit of his most deliberate wisdom. thus, by degrees a gloomy and despairing cloud settled over his mind; but, secretly sceptical of the mohammedan creed, and too proud and sanguine to resign himself wholly and passively to the doctrine of inevitable predestination, he sought to contend against the machinations of hostile demons and boding stars, not by human but spiritual agencies. collecting around him the seers and magicians of orient-fanaticism, he lived in the visions of another world; and, flattered by the promises of impostors or dreamers, and deceived by his own subtle and brooding tendencies of mind, it was amongst spells and cabala that he thought to draw forth the mighty secret which was to free him from the meshes of the preternatural enemies of his fortune, and leave him the freedom of other men to wrestle, with equal chances, against peril and adversities. it was thus, that almamen had won the mastery over his mind; and, though upon matters of common and earthly import, or solid learning, boabdil could contend with sages, upon those of superstition he could be fooled by a child. he was, in this, a kind of hamlet: formed, under prosperous and serene fortunes, to render blessings and reap renown; but over whom the chilling shadow of another world had fallen--whose soul curdled back into itself--whose life had been separated from that of the herd--whom doubts and awe drew back, while circumstances impelled onward--whom a supernatural doom invested with a peculiar philosophy, not of human effect and cause--and who, with every gift that could ennoble and adorn, was suddenly palsied into that mortal imbecility, which is almost ever the result of mortal visitings into the haunted regions of the ghostly and unknown. the gloomier colourings of his mind had been deepened, too, by secret remorse. for the preservation of his own life, constantly threatened by his unnatural predecessor, he had been early driven into rebellion against his father. in age, infirmity, and blindness, that fierce king had been made a prisoner at salobrena by his brother, el zagal, boabdil's partner in rebellion; and dying suddenly, el zagal was suspected of his murder. though boabdil was innocent of such a crime, he felt himself guilty of the causes which led to it; and a dark memory, resting upon his conscience, served to augment his superstition and enervate the vigour of his resolves; for, of all things that make men dreamers, none is so effectual as remorse operating upon a thoughtful temperament. revolving the character of his sovereign, and sadly foreboding the ruin of his country, the young hero of granada pursued his way, until his steps, almost unconsciously, led him towards the abode of leila. he scaled the walls of the garden as before--he neared the house. all was silent and deserted; his signal was unanswered--his murmured song brought no grateful light to the lattice, no fairy footstep to the balcony. dejected, and sad of heart, he retired from the spot; and, returning home, sought a couch, to which even all the fatigue and excitement he had undergone, could not win the forgetfulness of slumber. the mystery that wrapt the maiden of his homage, the rareness of their interviews, and the wild and poetical romance that made a very principle of the chivalry of the spanish moors, had imparted to muza's love for leila a passionate depth, which, at this day, and in more enervated climes, is unknown to the mohammedan lover. his keenest inquiries had been unable to pierce the secret of her birth and station. little of the inmates of that guarded and lonely house was known in the neighbourhood; the only one ever seen without its walls was an old man of the jewish faith, supposed to be a superintendent of the foreign slaves (for no mohammedan slave would have been subjected to the insult of submission to a jew); and though there were rumours of the vast wealth and gorgeous luxury within the mansion, it was supposed the abode of some moorish emir absent from the city--and the interest of the gossips was at this time absorbed in more weighty matters than the affairs of a neighbour. but when, the next eve, and the next, muza returned to the spot equally in vain, his impatience and alarm could no longer be restrained; he resolved to lie in watch by the portals of the house night and day, until, at least, he could discover some one of the inmates, whom he could question of his love, and perhaps bribe to his service. as with this resolution he was hovering round the mansion, he beheld, stealing from a small door in one of the low wings of the house, a bended and decrepit form: it supported its steps upon a staff; and, as now entering the garden, it stooped by the side of a fountain to cull flowers and herbs by the light of the moon, the moor almost started to behold a countenance which resembled that of some ghoul or vampire haunting the places of the dead. he smiled at his own fear; and, with a quick and stealthy pace, hastened through the trees, and, gaining the spot where the old man bent, placed his hand on his shoulder ere his presence was perceived. ximen--for it was he--looked round eagerly, and a faint cry of terror broke from his lips. "hush!" said the moor; "fear me not, i am a friend. thou art old, man-- gold is ever welcome to the aged." as he spoke, he dropped several broad pieces into the breast of the jew, whose ghastly features gave forth a yet more ghastly smile, as he received the gift, and mumbled forth, "charitable young man! generous, benevolent, excellent young man!" "now then," said muza, "tell me--you belong to this house--leila, the maiden within--tell me of her--is she well?" "i trust so," returned the jew; "i trust so, noble master." "trust so! know you not of her state?" "not i; for many nights i have not seen her, excellent sir," answered ximen; "she hath left granada, she hath gone. you waste your time and mar your precious health amidst these nightly dews: they are unwholesome, very unwholesome at the time of the new moon." "gone!" echoed the moor; "left granada!--woe is me!--and whither?--there, there, more gold for you,--old man, tell me whither?" "alas! i know not, most magnanimous young man; i am but a servant--i know nothing." "when will she return?" "i cannot tell thee." "who is thy master? who owns yon mansion?" ximen's countenance fell; he looked round in doubt and fear, and then, after a short pause, answered,--"a wealthy man, good sir--a moor of africa; but he hath also gone; he but seldom visits us; granada is not so peaceful a residence as it was,--i would go too, if i could." muza released his hold of ximen, who gazed at the moor's working countenance with a malignant smile--for ximen hated all men. "thou hast done with me, young warrior? pleasant dreams to thee under the new moon--thou hadst best retire to thy bed. farewell! bless thy charity to the poor old man!" muza heard him not; he remained motionless for some moments; and then with a heavy sigh as that of one who has gained the mastery of himself after a bitter struggle, the said half aloud, "allah be with thee, leila! granada now is my only mistress." chapter v. boabdil's reconciliation with his people. several days had elapsed without any encounter between moor and christian; for ferdinand's cold and sober policy, warned by the loss he had sustained in the ambush of muza, was now bent on preserving rigorous restraint upon the fiery spirits he commanded. he forbade all parties of skirmish, in which the moors, indeed, had usually gained the advantage, and contented himself with occupying all the passes through which provisions could arrive at the besieged city. he commenced strong fortifications around his camp; and, forbidding assault on the moors, defied it against himself. meanwhile, almamen had not returned to granada. no tidings of his fate reached the king; and his prolonged disappearance began to produce visible and salutary effect upon the long-dormant energies of boabdil. the counsels of muza, the exhortations of the queen-mother, the enthusiasm of his mistress, amine, uncounteracted by the arts of the magician, aroused the torpid lion of his nature. but still his army and his subjects murmured against him; and his appearance in the vivarrambla might possibly be the signal of revolt. it was at this time that a most fortunate circumstance at once restored to him the confidence and affections of his people. his stern uncle, el zagal--once a rival for his crown, and whose daring valour, mature age, and military sagacity had won him a powerful party within the city--had been, some months since, conquered by ferdinand; and, in yielding the possessions he held, had been rewarded with a barren and dependent principality. his defeat, far from benefiting boabdil, had exasperated the moors against their king. "for," said they, almost with one voice, "the brave el zagal never would have succumbed had boabdil properly supported his arms." and it was the popular discontent and rage at el zagal's defeat which had indeed served boabdil with a reasonable excuse for shutting himself in the strong fortress of the alhambra. it now happened that el zagal, whose dominant passion was hatred of his nephew, and whose fierce nature chafed at its present cage, resolved in his old age to blast all his former fame by a signal treason to his country. forgetting everything but revenge against his nephew, who he was resolved should share his own ruin, he armed his subjects, crossed the country, and appeared at the head of a gallant troop in the spanish camp, an ally with ferdinand against granada. when this was heard by the moors, it is impossible to conceive their indignant wrath: the crime of el zagal produced an instantaneous reaction in favour of boabdil; the crowd surrounded the alhambra and with prayers and tears entreated the forgiveness of the king. this event completed the conquest of boabdil over his own irresolution. he ordained an assembly of the whole army in the broad space of the vivarrambla: and when at break of day he appeared in full armour in the square, with muza at his right hand, himself in the flower of youthful beauty, and proud to feel once more a hero and a king, the joy of the people knew no limit; the air was rent with cries of "long live boabdil el chico!" and the young monarch, turning to muza, with his soul upon his brow exclaimed, "the hour has come--i am no longer el zogoybi!" chapter v. leila.--her new lover.--portrait of the first inquisitor of spain.--the chalice returned to the lips of almamen. while thus the state of events within granada, the course of our story transports us back to the christian camp. it was in one of a long line of tents that skirted the pavilion of isabel, and was appropriated to the ladies attendant on the royal presence, that a young female sat alone. the dusk of evening already gathered around, and only the outline of her form and features was visible. but even that, imperfectly seen,--the dejected attitude of the form, the drooping head, the hands clasped upon the knees,--might have sufficed to denote the melancholy nature of the reverie which the maid indulged. "ah," thought she, "to what danger am i exposed! if my father, if my lover dreamed of the persecution to which their poor leila is abandoned!" a few tears, large and bitter, broke from her eyes, and stole unheeded down her cheek. at that moment, the deep and musical chime of a bell was heard summoning the chiefs of the army to prayer; for ferdinand invested all his worldly schemes with a religious covering, and to his politic war he sought to give the imposing character of a sacred crusade. "that sound," thought she, sinking on her knees, "summons the nazarenes to the presence of their god. it reminds me, a captive by the waters of babylon, that god is ever with the friendless. oh! succour and defend me, thou who didst look of old upon ruth standing amidst the corn, and didst watch over thy chosen people in the hungry wilderness, and in the stranger's land." wrapt in her mute and passionate devotions, leila remained long in her touching posture. the bell had ceased; all without was hushed and still --when the drapery, stretched across the opening of the tent, was lifted, and a young spaniard, cloaked, from head to foot, in a long mantle, stood within the space. he gazed in silence, upon the kneeling maiden; nor was it until she rose that he made his presence audible. "ah, fairest!" said he, then, as he attempted to take her hand, "thou wilt not answer my letters--see me, then, at thy feet. it is thou who teachest me to kneel." "you, prince." said leila, agitated, and in great and evident fear. "why harass and insult me thus? am i not sacred as a hostage and a charge? and are name, honour, peace, and all that woman is taught to hold most dear, to be thus robbed from me under the pretext of a love dishonouring to thee and an insult to myself?" "sweet one," answered don juan, with a slight laugh, "thou hast learned, within yonder walls, a creed of morals little known to moorish maidens, if fame belies them not. suffer me to teach thee easier morality and sounder logic. it is no dishonour to a christian prince to adore beauty like thine; it is no insult to a maiden hostage if the infant of spain proffer her the homage of his heart. but we waste time. spies, and envious tongues, and vigilant eyes, are around us; and it is not often that i can baffle them as i have done now. fairest, hear me!" and this time he succeeded in seizing the hand which vainly struggled against his clasp. "nay, why so coy? what can female heart desire that my love cannot shower upon thine? speak but the word, enchanting maiden, and i will bear thee from these scenes unseemly to thy gentle eyes. amidst the pavilions of princes shalt thou repose; and, amidst gardens of the orange and the rose, shalt thou listen to the vows of thine adorer. surely, in these arms thou wilt not pine for a barbarous home and a fated city. and if thy pride, sweet maiden, deafen thee to the voice of nature, learn that the haughtiest dames of spain would bend, in envious court, to the beloved of their future king. this night--listen to me--i say, listen-- this night i will bear thee hence! be but mine, and no matter, whether heretic or infidel, or whatever the priests style thee, neither church nor king shall tear thee from the bosom of thy lover." "it is well spoken, son of the most christian monarch!" said a deep voice; and the dominican, tomas de torquemada, stood before the prince. juan, as if struck by a thunderbolt, released his hold, and, staggering back a few paces, seemed to cower, abashed and humbled, before the eye of the priest, as it glared upon him through the gathering darkness. "prince," said the friar, after a pause, "not to thee will our holy church attribute this crime; thy pious heart hath been betrayed by sorcery. retire!" "father," said the prince,--in a tone into which, despite his awe of that terrible man, the first grand inquisitor of spain, his libertine spirit involuntarily forced itself, in a half latent raillery,--"sorcery of eyes like those bewitched the wise son of a more pious sire than even ferdinand of arragon." "he blasphemes!" muttered the monk. "prince, beware! you know not what you do." the prince lingered, and then, as if aware that he must yield, gathered his cloak round him, and left the tent without reply. pale and trembling,--with fears no less felt, perhaps, though more vague and perplexed, than those from which she had just been delivered,--leila stood before the monk. "be seated, daughter of the faithless," said torquemada, "we would converse with thee: and, as thou valuest--i say not thy soul, for, alas! of that precious treasure thou art not conscious--but mark me, woman! as thou prizest the safety of those delicate limbs, and that wanton beauty, answer truly what i shall ask thee. the man who brought thee hither--is he, in truth, thy father?" "alas!" answered leila, almost fainting with terror at this rude and menacing address, "he is, in truth, mine only parent." "and his faith--his religion?" "i have never beheld him pray." "hem! he never prays--a noticeable fact. but of what sect, what creed, does he profess himself?" "i cannot answer thee." "nay, there be means that may wring from thee an answer. maiden, be not so stubborn; speak! thinkest thou he serves the temple of the mohammedan?" "no! oh, no!" answered poor leila, eagerly, deeming that her reply, in this, at least, would be acceptable. "he disowns, he scorns, he abhors, the moorish faith,--even," she added, "with too fierce a zeal." "thou dost not share that zeal, then? well, worships he in secret after the christian rites?" leila hung her head and answered not. "i understand thy silence. and in what belief, maiden, wert thou reared beneath his roof?" "i know not what it is called among men," answered leila, with firmness, "but it is the faith of the one god, who protects his chosen, and shall avenge their wrongs--the god who made earth and heaven; and who, in an idolatrous and benighted world, transmitted the knowledge of himself and his holy laws, from age to age, through the channel of one solitary people, in the plains of palestine, and by the waters of the hebron." "and in that faith thou wert trained, maiden, by thy father?" said the dominican, calmly. "i am satisfied. rest here, in peace: we may meet again, soon." the last words were spoken with a soft and tranquil smile--a smile in which glazing eyes and agonising hearts had often beheld the ghastly omen of the torture and the stake. on quitting the unfortunate leila, the monk took his way towards the neighbouring tent of ferdinand. but, ere he reached it, a new thought seemed to strike the holy man; he altered the direction of his steps, and gained one of those little shrines common in catholic countries, and which had been hastily built of wood, in the centre of a small copse, and by the side of a brawling rivulet, towards the back of the king's pavilion. but one solitary sentry, at the entrance of the copse, guarded the consecrated place; and its exceeding loneliness and quiet were a grateful contrast to the animated world of the surrounding camp. the monk entered the shrine, and fell down on his knees before an image of the virgin, rudely sculptured, indeed, but richly decorated. "ah, holy mother!" groaned this singular man, "support me in the trial to which i am appointed. thou knowest that the glory of thy blessed son is the sole object for which i live, and move, and have my being; but at times, alas! the spirit is infected with the weakness of the flesh. ora pro nobis, o mother of mercy! verily, oftentimes my heart sinks within me when it is mine to vindicate the honour of thy holy cause against the young and the tender, the aged and the decrepit. but what are beauty and youth, grey hairs and trembling knees, in the eye of the creator? miserable worms are we all; nor is there anything acceptable in the divine sight but the hearts of the faithful. youth without faith, age without belief, purity without grace, virtue without holiness, are only more hideous by their seeming beauty--whited sepulchres, glittering rottenness. i know this--i know it; but the human man is strong within me. strengthen me, that i pluck it out; so that, by diligent and constant struggle with the feeble adam, thy servant may be reduced into a mere machine, to punish the godless and advance the church." here sobs and tears choked the speech of the dominican; he grovelled in the dust, he tore his hair, he howled aloud: the agony was fierce upon him. at length, he drew from his robe a whip, composed of several thongs, studded with small and sharp nails; and, stripping his gown, and the shirt of hair worn underneath, over his shoulders, applied the scourge to the naked flesh with a fury that soon covered the green sward with the thick and clotted blood. the exhaustion which followed this terrible penance seemed to restore the senses of the stern fanatic. a smile broke over the features, that bodily pain only released from the anguished expression of mental and visionary struggles; and, when he rose, and drew the hair-cloth shirt over the lacerated and quivering flesh, he said--"now hast thou deigned to comfort and visit me, o pitying mother; and, even as by these austerities against this miserable body, is the spirit relieved and soothed, so dost thou typify and betoken that men's bodies are not to be spared by those who seek to save souls and bring the nations of the earth into thy fold." with that thought the countenance of torquemada reassumed its wonted rigid and passionless composure; and, replacing the scourge, yet clotted with blood, in his bosom, he pursued his way to the royal tent. he found ferdinand poring over the accounts of the vast expenses of his military preparations, which he had just received from his treasurer; and the brow of the thrifty, though ostentatious monarch, was greatly overcast by the examination. "by the bulls of guisando!" said the king, gravely, "i purchase the salvation of my army in this holy war at a marvellous heavy price; and if the infidels hold out much longer, we shalt have to pawn our very patrimony of arragon." "son," answered the dominican, "to purposes like thine fear not that providence itself will supply the worldly means. but why doubtest thou? are not the means within thy reach? it is just that thou alone shouldst not support the wars by which christendom is glorified. are there not others?" "i know what thou wouldst say, father," interrupted the king, quickly-- "thou wouldst observe that my brother monarchs should assist me with arms and treasure. most just. but they are avaricious and envious, tomas; and mammon hath corrupted them." "nay, not to kings pointed my thought." "well, then," resumed the king, impatiently, "thou wouldst imply that mine own knights and nobles should yield up their coffers, and mortgage their possessions. and so they ought; but they murmur already at what they have yielded to our necessities." "and in truth," rejoined the friar, "these noble warriors should not be shorn of a splendour that well becomes the valiant champions of the church. nay, listen to me, son, and i may suggest a means whereby, not the friends, but enemies, of the catholic faith shall contribute to the down fall of the paynim. in thy dominions, especially those newly won, throughout andalusia, in the kingdom of cordova, are men of enormous wealth; the very caverns of the earth are sown with the impious treasure they have plundered from christian hands, and consume in the furtherance of their iniquity. sire, i speak of the race that crucified the lord." "the jews--ay, but the excuse--" "is before thee. this traitor, with whom thou boldest intercourse, who vowed to thee to render up granada, and who was found the very next morning, fighting with the moors, with the blood of a spanish martyr red upon his hands, did he not confess that his fathers were of that hateful race? did he not bargain with thee to elevate his brethren to the rank of christians? and has be not left with thee, upon false pretences, a harlot of his faith, who, by sorcery and the help of the evil one, hath seduced into frantic passion the heart of the heir of the most christian king?" "ha! thus does that libertine boy ever scandalise us!" said the king, bitterly. "well," pursued the dominican, not heeding the interruption, "have you not here excuse enough to wring from the whole race the purchase of their existence? note the glaring proof of this conspiracy of hell. the outcasts of the earth employed this crafty agent to contract with thee for power; and, to consummate their guilty designs, the arts that seduced solomon are employed against thy son. the beauty of the strange woman captivates his senses; so that, through the future sovereign of spain the counsels of jewish craft may establish the domination of jewish ambition. how knowest thou," he added as he observed that ferdinand listened to him with earnest attention--"how knowest thou but what the next step might have been thy secret assassination, so that the victim of witchcraft, the minion of the jewess, might reign in the stead of the mighty and unconquerable ferdinand?" "go on, father," said the king, thoughtfully; "i see, at least, enough to justify an impost upon these servitors of mammon." "but, though common sense suggests to us," continued torquemada, "that this disguised israelite could not have acted on so vast a design without the instigation of his brethren, not only in granada, but throughout all andalusia,--would it not be right to obtain from him his confession, and that of the maiden, within the camp, so that we may have broad and undeniable evidence, whereon to act, and to still all cavil, that may come not only from the godless, but even from the too tender scruples of the righteous? even the queen--whom the saints ever guard!--hath ever too soft a heart for these infidels; and--" "right!" cried the king, again breaking upon torquemada; "isabel, the queen of castile, must be satisfied of the justice of all our actions." "and, should it be proved that thy throne or life were endangered, and that magic was exercised to entrap her royal son into a passion for a jewish maiden, which the church holds a crime worthy of excommunication itself, surely, instead of counteracting, she would assist our schemes." "holy friend," said ferdinand, with energy, "ever a comforter, both for this world and the next, to thee, and to the new powers intrusted to thee, we commit this charge; see to it at once; time presses--granada is obstinate--the treasury waxes low." "son, thou hast said enough," replied the dominican, closing his eyes, and muttering a short thanksgiving. "now then to my task." "yet stay," said the king, with an altered visage; "follow me to my oratory within: my heart is heavy, and i would fain seek the solace of the confessional." the monk obeyed: and while ferdinand, whose wonderful abilities were mingled with the weakest superstition, who persecuted from policy, yet believed, in his own heart, that he punished but from piety,--confessed with penitent tears the grave offences of aves forgotten, and beads untold; and while the dominican admonished, rebuked, or soothed,--neither prince nor monk ever dreamt that there was an error to confess in, or a penance to be adjudged to, the cruelty that tortured a fellow-being, or the avarice that sought pretences for the extortion of a whole people. chapter vii. the tribunal and the miracle it was the dead of night--the army was hushed in sleep--when four soldiers belonging to the holy brotherhood, bearing with them one whose manacles proclaimed him a prisoner, passed in steady silence to a huge tent in the neighbourhood of the royal pavilion. a deep dyke, formidable barricadoes, and sentries stationed at frequent intervals, testified the estimation in which the safety of this segment of the camp was held. the tent to which the soldiers approached was, in extent, larger than even the king's pavilion itself--a mansion of canvas, surrounded by a wide wall of massive stones; and from its summit gloomed, in the clear and shining starlight, a small black pennant, on which was wrought a white broad-pointed cross. the soldiers halted at the gate in the wall, resigned their charge, with a whispered watchword, to two gaunt sentries; and then (relieving the sentries who proceeded on with the prisoner) remained, mute and motionless, at the post: for stern silence and spartan discipline were the attributes of the brotherhood of st. hermandad. the prisoner, as he now neared the tent, halted a moment, looked round steadily, as if to fix the spot in his remembrance, and then, with an impatient though stately gesture, followed his guards. he passed two divisions of the tent, dimly lighted, and apparently deserted. a man, clad in long black robes, with a white cross on his breast, now appeared; there was an interchange of signals in dumb-show-and in another moment almamen, the hebrew, stood within a large chamber (if so that division of the tent might be called) hung with black serge. at the upper part of the space was an estrado, or platform, on which, by a long table, sat three men; while at the head of the board was seen the calm and rigid countenance of tomas de torquemada. the threshold of the tent was guarded by two men, in garments similar in hue and fashion to those of the figure who had ushered almamen into the presence of the inquisitor, each bearing a long lance, and with a long two-edged sword by his side. this made all the inhabitants of that melancholy and ominous apartment. the israelite looked round with a pale brow, but a flashing and scornful eye; and, when he met the gaze of the dominican, it almost seemed as if those two men, each so raised above his fellows, by the sternness of his nature and the energy of his passions, sought by a look alone to assert his own supremacy and crush his foe. yet, in truth, neither did justice to the other; and the indignant disdain of almamen was retorted by the cold and icy contempt of the dominican. "prisoner," said torquemada (the first to withdraw his gaze), "a less haughty and stubborn demeanour might have better suited thy condition: but no matter; our church is meek and humble. we have sent for thee in a charitable and paternal hope; for although, as spy and traitor, thy life is already forfeited, yet would we fain redeem and spare it to repentance. that hope mayst thou not forego, for the nature of all of us is weak and clings to life--that straw of the drowning seaman." "priest, if such thou art," replied the hebrew, "i have already, when first brought to this camp, explained the causes of my detention amongst the troops of the moor. it was my zeal for the king of spain that brought me into that peril. escaping from that peril, incurred in his behalf, is the king of spain to be my accuser and my judge? if, however, my life now be sought as the grateful return for the proffer of inestimable service, i stand here to yield it. do thy worst; and tell thy master, that he loses more by my death than he can win by the lives of thirty thousand warriors." "cease this idle babble," said the monk-inquisitor, contemptuously, "nor think thou couldst ever deceive, with thy empty words, the mighty intellect of ferdinand of spain. thou hast now to defend thyself against still graver charges than those of treachery to the king whom thou didst profess to serve. yea, misbeliever as thou art, it is thine to vindicate thyself from blasphemy against the god thou shouldst adore. confess the truth: thou art of the tribe and faith of israel?" the hebrew frowned darkly. "man," said he, solemnly, "is a judge of the deeds of men, but not of their opinions. i will not answer thee." "pause! we have means at hand that the strongest nerves and the stoutest hearts have failed to encounter. pause--confess!" "thy threat awes me not," said the hebrew; "but i am human; and since thou wouldst know the truth, thou mayst learn it without the torture. i am of the same race as the apostles of thy church--i am a jew." "he confesses--write down the words. prisoner, thou hast done wisely; and we pray the lord that, acting thus, thou mayst escape both the torture and the death. and in that faith thy daughter was reared? answer." "my daughter! there is no charge against her! by the god of sinai and horeb, you dare not touch a hair of that innocent head!" "answer," repeated the inquisitor, coldly. "i do answer. she was brought up no renegade to her father's faith." "write down the confession. prisoner," resumed the dominican, after a pause, "but few more questions remain; answer them truly, and thy life is saved. in thy conspiracy to raise thy brotherhood of andalusia to power and influence--or, as thou didst craftily term it, to equal laws with the followers of our blessed lord; in thy conspiracy (by what dark arts i seek not now to know _protege nos, beate domine_!) to entangle in wanton affections to thy daughter the heart of the infant of spain-silence, i say--be still! in this conspiracy, thou wert aided, abetted, or instigated by certain jews of andalusia--" "hold, priest!" cried almamen, impetuously, "thou didst name my child. do i hear aright? placed under the sacred charge of a king, and a belted knight, has she--oh! answer me, i implore thee--been insulted by the licentious addresses of one of that king's own lineage? answer! i am a jew--but i am a father and a man." "this pretended passion deceives us not," said the dominican, who, himself cut off from the ties of life, knew nothing of their power. "reply to the question put to thee: name thy accomplices." "i have told thee all. thou hast refused to answer one. i scorn and defy thee: my lips are closed." the grand inquisitor glanced to his brethren, and raised his hand. his assistants whispered each other; one of them rose, and disappeared behind the canvas at the back of the tent. presently the hangings were withdrawn; and the prisoner beheld an, interior chamber, hung with various instruments the nature of which was betrayed by their very shape; while by the rack, placed in the centre of that dreary chamber, stood a tall and grisly figure, his arms bare, his eyes bent, as by an instinct, on the prisoner. almamen gazed at these dread preparations with an unflinching aspect. the guards at the entrance of the tent approached: they struck off the fetters from his feet and hands; they led him towards the appointed place of torture. suddenly the israelite paused. "priest," said he, in a more humble accent than he had yet assumed, "the tidings that thou didst communicate to me respecting the sole daughter of my house and love bewildered and confused me for the moment. suffer me but for a single moment to recollect my senses, and i will answer without compulsion all thou mayst ask. permit thy questions to be repeated." the dominican, whose cruelty to others seemed to himself sanctioned by his own insensibility to fear, and contempt for bodily pain, smiled with bitter scorn at the apparent vacillation and weakness of the prisoner: but, as he delighted not in torture merely for torture's sake, he motioned to the guards to release the israelite; and replied in a voice unnaturally mild and kindly, considering the circumstances of the scene, "prisoner, could we save thee from pain, even by the anguish of our own flesh and sinews, heaven is our judge that we would willingly undergo the torture which, with grief and sorrow, we ordained to thee. pause--take breath--collect thyself. three minutes shalt thou have to consider what course to adopt ere we repeat the question. but then beware how thou triflest with our indulgence." "it suffices--i thank thee," said the hebrew, with a touch of gratitude in his voice. as he spoke he bent his face within his bosom, which he covered, as in profound meditation, with the folds of his long robe. scarcely half the brief time allowed him had expired, when he again lifted his countenance and, as he did so, flung back his garment. the dominican uttered a loud cry; the guards started back in awe. a wonderful change had come over the intended victim; he seemed to stand amongst them literally--wrapt in fire; flames burst from his lip, and played with his long locks, as, catching the glowing hue, they curled over his shoulders like serpents of burning light: blood-red were his breast and limbs, his haughty crest, and his outstretched arm; and as for a single moment, he met the shuddering eyes of his judges, he seemed, indeed, to verify all the superstitions of the time--no longer the trembling captive but the mighty demon or the terrible magician. the dominican was the first to recover his self-possession. "seize the enchanter!" he exclaimed; but no man stirred. ere yet the exclamation had died on his lip, almamen took from his breast a phial, and dashed it on the ground--it broke into a thousand shivers: a mist rose over the apartment--it spread, thickened, darkened, as a sudden night; the lamps could not pierce it. the luminous form of the hebrew grew dull and dim, until it vanished in the shade. on every eye blindness seemed to fall. there was a dead silence, broken by a cry and a groan; and when, after some minutes, the darkness gradually dispersed, almamen was gone. one, of the guards lay bathed in blood upon the ground; they raised him: he had attempted to seize the prisoner, and had been stricken with a mortal wound. he died as he faltered forth the explanation. in the confusion and dismay of the scene none noticed, till long afterwards, that the prisoner had paused long enough to strip the dying guard of his long mantle; a proof that he feared his more secret arts might not suffice to bear him safe through the camp, without the aid of worldly stratagem. "the fiend hath been amongst us!" said the dominican, solemnly falling on his knees,--"let us pray!" inez a tale of the alamo by augusta j. evans _author of "beulah," "st. elmo," "infelice," "macaria," etc._ new york the federal book company publishers to the texan patriots, who triumphantly unfurled and waved aloft the "banner of the lone star!" who wrenched asunder the iron bands of despotic mexico! and wreathed the brow of the "queen state" with the glorious chaplet of "civil and religious liberty!" this work is respectfully dedicated by the author. inez: a tale of the alamo. chapter i. "but o, th' important budget! who can say what are its tidings?" cowper. "there is the bell for prayers, florry; are you ready?" said mary irving, hastily entering her cousin's room at the large boarding-school of madame ----. "yes; i rose earlier than usual this morning, have solved two problems, and translated nearly half a page of telemaque." "i congratulate you on your increased industry and application, though you were always more studious than myself. i wish, dear florry, you could imbue me with some of your fondness for metaphysics and mathematics," mary replied, with a low sigh. a momentary flush passed over the face of her companion, and they descended the stairs in silence. the room in which the pupils were accustomed to assemble for devotion was not so spacious as the class-room, yet sufficiently so to look gloomy enough in the gray light of a drizzling morn. the floor was covered with a faded carpet, in which the indistinct vine seemed struggling to reach the wall, but failed by several feet on either side. as if to conceal this deficiency, a wide seat was affixed the entire length of the room, so high "that the feet hung dangling down, anxious in vain to find the distant floor." there were no curtains to the windows, and the rain pattered drearily down the panes. the teacher who officiated as chaplain was seated before a large desk, on which lay an open bible. he seemed about twenty-four, his countenance noble rather than handsome, if i may make so delicate a distinction. intelligence of the first order was stamped upon it, yet the characteristic expression was pride which sat enthroned on his prominent brow; still, hours of care had left their impress, and the face was very grave, though by no means stern. his eye was fixed on the door as the pupils came in, one by one, for prayers, and when florence and mary entered, it sunk upon his book, in a few moments he rose, and, standing with one arm folded across his bosom, read in a deep, distinct tone, that beautiful psalm, "the lord is my shepherd." he had only reached the fourth verse, when he was interrupted by two girls of twelve or fourteen, who had been conversing from the moment of their entrance. the tones grew louder and louder, and now the words were very audible: "my father did not send me here to come to prayers, and madame has no right to make us get up before day to hear him read his bible!" many who coincided with them tittered, others stared in silence, while florence's lip curled, and mary looked sorrowingly, pityingly upon them--hers was the expression with which the angel multitudes of heaven regard their erring brethren here. the chaplain turned toward them, and said, in a grave yet gentle voice, "my little friends, i am afraid you did not kneel beside your bed this morning, and ask god to keep your hearts from sinful thoughts, and enable you to perform all your duties in a humble, gentle spirit. in your present temper, were i to read the entire book instead of one psalm, i fear you would receive no benefit." the girls were awed more by the tone than words, and sat silent and abashed. the reading was concluded, and then he offered up a prayer earnest and heartfelt. instead of leaving the room immediately, the pupils waited as for something, and taking a bundle of letters from the desk, their tutor distributed them as the direction indicated. "my budget is not so large as usual, and i regret it for your sakes, as i fear some are disappointed. miss hamilton, here are two for you;" and he handed them to her without looking up. "two for florry, and none for me?" asked mary, while her voice slightly trembled. he was leaving the room, but turned toward her. "i am very sorry, miss mary, but hope you will find a comforting message in your cousin's." gently he spoke, yet his eyes rested on florence the while, and, with a suppressed sigh, he passed on. "come to my room, mary; it is strange the letters are postmarked the same day." and while she solves the mystery, let us glance at her former history. chapter ii. "calm on the bosom of thy god, fair spirit! rest thee now! ev'n while with us thy footsteps trod, his seal was on thy brow." hemans. florence hamilton had but attained her fourth year when she was left the only solace of her widowed father. even after the lapse of long years, faint, yet sweet recollections of her lost parent stole, in saddened hours, over her spirit, and often, in dreams, a face of angelic beauty hovered around, and smiled upon her. unfortunately, florence proved totally unlike her sainted mother, both in personal appearance and cast of character. mr. hamilton was a cold, proud man of the world; one who, having lived from his birth in affluence, regarded with a haughty eye all who, without the advantages of rank or wealth, strove to attain a position equal to his own. intelligence, nobility of soul, unsullied character, weighed not an atom against the counterpoise of birth and family. he enjoyed in youth advantages rare for the unsettled times in which he lived; he tasted all that france and italy could offer; and returned _blasé_ at twenty-seven to his home in one of the southern states. attracted by the brilliant fortune of an orphan heiress, he won and married her; but love, such as her pure, gentle spirit sought, dwelt not in his stern, selfish heart. all of affection he had to bestow was lavished on his only sister, who had married during his absence. his angel wife drooped in the sterile soil to which she was transplanted, and, when florence was about four years old, sunk into a quiet grave. perhaps when he stood with his infant daughter beside the newly-raised mound, and missed the gentle being who had endeavored so strenuously to make his home happy, and to win for herself a place in his heart, one tear might have moistened the cold, searching eyes that for years had known no such softening tendency. "perhaps," i say; but to conjecture of thee, oh man! is fruitless indeed. as well as such a nature could, he loved his child, and considered himself extremely magnanimous in casting aside all thought of a second marriage, and devoting his leisure moments to the formation of her character, and direction of her education. florence inherited her father's haughty temperament without his sordid selfishness, and what may seem incompatible with the former, a glowing imagination in connection with fine mental powers. to all but mr. hamilton she appeared as cold and impenetrable as himself; but the flashing eye and curling lip with which she listened to a tale of injustice, or viewed a dishonorable act, indicated a nature truly noble. two master passions ruled her heart--love for her parent, and fondness for books. idolized by the household, it was not strange that she soon learned to consider herself the most important member of it. mr. hamilton found that it was essential for the proper regulation of his establishment that some lady should preside over its various departments, and accordingly invited the maiden sister of his late wife to make his house her home, and take charge of his numerous domestics. of his daughter he said nothing. aunt lizzy, as she was called, was an amiable, good woman, but not sufficiently intellectual to superintend florry's education. that little individual looked at first with distrustful eyes on one who, she supposed, might abridge her numerous privileges; but the affectionate manner of the kind-hearted aunt removed all fear, and she soon spoke and moved with the freedom which had characterized her solitude. one day, when florence was about nine years old, her father entered the library, where she sat intently reading, and said, "florence, come here, i have something to tell you." "something to tell me! i hope it is pleasant;" and she laid her hand on his knee, and looked inquiringly in his face. "you remember the cousin mary, whose father died not long ago? well, she has lost her mother too, and is coming to live with us." as he spoke, his voice faltered, and his proud curling lip quivered, yet he gave no other evidence of the deepest grief he had known for many years. "she will be here this evening, and i hope you will try to make her contented." with these words he was leaving the room, but florence said, "father, is she to stay with us always, and will she sleep in my room, with me?" "she will live with us as long as she likes, and, if you prefer it, can occupy the same room." the day wore on, and evening found her on the steps, looking earnestly down the avenue for the approach of the little stranger. at length a heavy carriage drove to the door, and florry leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the inmate's face. a slight form, clad in deep mourning, was placed on the piazza by the coachman. mr. hamilton shook her hand kindly, and, after a few words of welcome, said, "here is your cousin florence, mary. i hope you will love each other, and be happy, good little girls." mary looked almost fearfully at her proud young cousin, but the sight of her own pale, tearful face touched florry's heart, and she threw her arms round her neck and kissed her. the embrace was unexpected, and mary wept bitterly. "florence, why don't you take mary to her room?" "would you like to go up-stairs, cousin?" "oh yes! if you please, i had much rather." and taking her basket from her hand, florry led the way. mary took off her bonnet, and turned to look again at her cousin. their eyes met; but, as if overcome by some sudden recollection, she buried her face in her hands and burst again into tears. florence stood for some time in silence, at length she said gently, "it is almost tea-time, and father will be angry if he sees you have been crying." "oh! i can't help it, indeed i can't," sobbed the little mourner, "he is so much like my dear, darling mother;" and she stifled a cry of agony. "is my father like your mother, cousin mary?" "oh yes! when he spoke to me just now, i almost thought it was mother." a tear rolled over florry's cheek, and she slowly replied, "i wish i knew somebody that looked like my mother." in that hour was forged the chain which bound them through life, and made them one in interest. years rolled on, and found mary happy in her adopted home. if her uncle failed to caress her as her loving heart desired, she did not complain, for she was treated like her cousin, and found in the strong love of florence an antidote for every care. mary was about sixteen, and florence a few months younger, at the time our story opens, and had been placed in new orleans to acquire french and music, as good masters could not be obtained nearer home. we have seen them there, and, hoping the reader will pardon this digression, return to florry's letter. chapter iii. "philosophy can hold an easy triumph over past and future misfortunes; but those which are present, triumph over her." rochefoucault. a striking difference in personal appearance was presented by the cousins, as they stood together. florence, though somewhat younger, was taller by several inches, and her noble and erect carriage, in connection with the haughty manner in which her head was thrown back, added in effect to her height. her hair and eyes were brilliant black, the latter particularly thoughtful in their expression. the forehead was not remarkable for height, but was unusually prominent and white, and almost overhung the eyes. the mouth was perfect, the lips delicately chiseled, and curving beautifully toward the full dimpled chin. the face, though intellectual, and artistically beautiful, was not prepossessing. the expression was cold and haughty; and for this reason she had received the appellations of "minerva" and "juno," such being considered by her fellow-pupils as singularly appropriate. mary, on the contrary, was slight and drooping, and her sweet, earnest countenance, elicited the love of the beholder, even before an intimate acquaintance had brought to view the beautiful traits of her truly amiable character. and yet these girls, diametrically opposed in disposition, clung to each other with a strength of affection only to be explained by that strongest of all ties, early association. florence broke the seal of her letter, and mary walked to the window. it looked out on a narrow street, through which drays rattled noisily, and occasional passengers picked their way along its muddy crossings. mary stood watching the maneuvers of a little girl, who was endeavoring to pass dry-shod, when a low groan startled her; and turning quickly, she perceived florence standing in the center of the room, the letter crumpled in one hand: her face had grown very pale, and the large eyes gleamed strangely. "oh! florry, what is the matter? is your father ill--dead--tell me quick?" and imploringly she clasped her hands. florence made a powerful effort, and spoke, in her usual tone: "i was foolish to give way to my feelings, even for a moment--my father is well." she paused, and then added, as if painfully, "but, oh! he is almost penniless!" "penniless!" echoed mary, as though she could not comprehend her cousin's meaning. "yes, mary, he has been very unfortunate in his speculations, obliged to sell our plantation and negroes, and now, he says, 'a few paltry thousands only remain;' but, oh! that is not the worst; i wish it were, he has sold out everything, broken every tie, and will be here this evening on his way to texas. he writes that i must be ready to accompany him to-morrow night." she paused, as if unwilling to add something which must be told, and looked sadly at her cousin. mary understood the glance. "florry, there is something in the letter relating to myself, which you withhold for fear of giving me pain: the sooner i learn it the better." "mary, here is a letter inclosed for you; but first hear what my father says," and hurriedly she read as follows: ... "with regard to mary, it cannot be expected that she should wish to accompany us on our rugged path, and bitterly, bitterly do i regret our separation. her paternal uncle, now in affluence, has often expressed a desire to have her with him, and, since my misfortunes, has written me, offering her a home in his family. every luxury and advantage afforded by wealth can still be hers. did i not feel that she would be benefited by this separation, nothing could induce me to part with her, but, under existing circumstances, i can consent to give her up." florence flung the letter from her as she concluded, and approaching her cousin, clasped her arms fondly about her. mary had covered her face with her hands, and the tears glistened on her slender fingers. "oh, florry, you don't know how pained and hurt i am, that uncle should think i could be so ungrateful as to forget, in the moment of adversity, his unvaried kindness for six long years. oh! it is cruel in him to judge me so harshly," and she sobbed aloud. "i will not be left, i will go with him, that is if--if--florry, tell me candidly, do you think he has any other reason for not taking me, except my fancied dislike to leaving this place--tell me?" "no, dear mary; if he thought you preferred going with us, no power on earth could induce him to leave you." mary placed her hand in her cousin's, and murmured, "florry, i will go with you; your home shall be my home, and your sorrows my sorrows." a flash of joy irradiated florence's pale face as she returned her cousin's warm embrace. "with you, mary, to comfort and assist me, i fear nothing; but you have not yet read your uncle's letter, perhaps its contents may influence your decision." mary perused it in silence, and then put it in her cousin's hand, while the tears rolled over her cheeks. "mary, think well ere you reject this kind offer. remember how earnestly he entreats that you will come and share his love, his home, and his fortune. many privations will be ours, in the land to which we go, and numberless trials assail the poverty-stricken. all these you can avoid, by accepting this very affectionate invitation. think well, mary, lest in after-years you repent your hasty decision." there came a long pause, and hurriedly florence paced to and fro. mary lifted her bowed head, and pushing back her clustering hair, calmly replied, "my heart swells with gratitude toward my noble, generous uncle. oh, how fervently i can thank him for his proffered home! yet, separated from you, dear florry, i could not be happy; my heart would ache for you, and your warm, trusting love. i fear neither poverty nor hardships. oh, let me go with you, and cheer and assist my dear uncle!" "you shall go with us, my pure-hearted cousin. when i thought a moment since, of parting with you, my future seemed gloomy indeed, but now i know that you will be near, i am content." a short silence ensued, broken by a mournful exclamation from florence. "ah! mary, it is not for myself that i regret this change of fortune, but for my proud, haughty father, who will suffer so keenly. oh, my heart aches when i think of him!" "florry, we must cheer him by those thousand little attentions, which will lead him to forget his pecuniary troubles." florence shook her head. "you do not know my father as i do. he will have no comforters, broods over difficulties in secret, and shrinks from sympathy as from a 'scorching brand.'" "still, i think we can do much to lighten his cares, and i pray god i may not be mistaken," replied mary. florence lifted her head from her palm and gazed vacantly at her cousin, then started from her seat. "mary, we must not sit here idly, when there is so much to do, madame ---- should know we leave to-morrow, and it will take us all day to prepare for our journey." "do let me go and speak to madame----; it will be less unpleasant to me?" "no, no; i will go myself; they shall not think i feel it so sensibly, and their condolence to-morrow would irritate me beyond measure. i scorn such petty trials as loss of fortune, and they shall know it." "who shall know it, florry?" her cheek flushed, but without a reply she left the room, and descended the steps which led to madame ----'s parlor. reaching the door, she drew herself proudly up, then knocked. "come in," was the response. she did so. in the center of the apartment, with an open book on the table before him, sat the teacher who officiated at prayers. he rose and bowed coldly in answer to her salutation. "pardon my intrusion, mr. stewart. i expected to find madame here." "she has gone to spend the morning with an invalid sister, and requested me to take charge of her classes, in addition to my own. if i can render you any assistance, miss hamilton, i am at your service." "thank you, i am in need of no assistance, and merely wished to say to madame that i should leave new orleans to-morrow, having heard from my father that he will be here in the evening boat." "i will inform her of your intended departure as early as possible." "you will oblige me by doing so," replied florence, turning to go. "miss hamilton, may i ask you if your cousin accompanies you?" "she does," was the laconic answer, and slowly she retraced her steps, and stood at her own door. the cheeks had become colorless, and the delicate lips writhed with pain. she paused a moment, then entered. "did you see her, florry?" "no, she is absent, but i left word for her." her tone was hard, dry, as though she had been striving long for some goal, which, when nearly attained, her failing strength was scarce able to grasp. it was the echo of a fearful struggle that had raged in her proud bosom. the knell it seemed of expiring exertion, of sinking resistance. mary gazed sadly on her cousin, who stood mechanically smoothing her glossy black hair. the haughty features seemed chiseled in marble, so cold, stony was the expression. "dear florry! you look harassed and weary already. why, why will you overtask your strength, merely to be called a disciple of zeno? surely you cannot seriously desire so insignificant an honor, if it merits that title?" "can, you, then, see no glory in crushing long-cherished hopes--nay, when your heart is yearning toward some 'bright particular' path, to turn without one symptom of regret, and calmly tread one just the opposite! tell me, can you perceive nothing elevating in this stoical command?" the cold, vacant look had passed away; her dark eyes gleamed, glittered as with anticipated triumph. "florry, i do not understand you exactly; but i do know that command of the heart is impossible, from the source whence you draw. it may seem perfect control now, but it will fail you in the dark hour of your need, if many trials should assail. oh! my cousin, do not be angry if i say 'you have forsaken the fountain of living water, and hewn out for yourself broken cisterns, which hold no water.' oh! florry, before you take another step, return to him, 'who has a balm for every wound.'" florence's face softened; an expression of relief began to steal over her countenance; but as mary ceased speaking, she turned her face, beautiful in its angelic purity, full upon her. a bitter smile curled florence's lip, and muttering hoarsely, "a few more hours and the struggle will be over," she turned to her bureau, and arranged her clothes for packing. the day passed in preparation, and twilight found the cousins watching intently at the casement. the great clock in the hall chimed out seven, the last stroke died away, and then the sharp clang of the door-bell again broke silence. they started to their feet, heard the street door open and close--then steps along the stairs, nearer and nearer--then came a knock at the door. mary opened it; the servant handed in a card and withdrew. "mr. j.a. hamilton." florence passed out, mary remained behind. "come, why do you linger?" "i thought, florry, you might wish to see him alone; perhaps he would prefer it." "mary, you have identified yourself with us. to my father we must be as one." she extended her hand, and the next moment they stood in the reception-room. the father and uncle were standing with folded arms, looking down into the muddy street below. he advanced to meet them, holding out a hand to each. florence pressed her lips to the one she held, and exclaimed, "my dear father, how glad i am to see you!" "glad to see me! you did not receive my letters then?" "yes, i did, but are their contents and pleasure at meeting you incompatible?" he made no reply, and then mary said, in a low, tremulous tone, "uncle, you have done me a great injury, and you must make me all the reparation in your power. you said, in your letter to florry, that you did not think i would wish to go with you. oh, uncle! you do not, cannot believe me so ungrateful, so devoid of love as to wish, under any circumstances, to be separated from you. now ease my heart, and say i may share your new home. i should be very miserable away from you." an expression of pleasure passed over his face, but again the brow darkened. "mary! florence is my child--my destiny hers, my misfortunes hers; but i have no right to drag you with me in my fall; to deprive you of the many advantages that will be afforded, by your uncle's wealth, of the social position you may one day attain." "uncle! uncle! am i not your child by adoption? have you not loved and cared for me during long years? oh! what do i care for wealth--for what you call a high position in the world? you and florry are my world." she threw her arms about his neck, and sobbed, "take me! oh, take me with you!" "if you so earnestly desire it, you shall indeed go with us, my mary." and, for the first time in her life, he imprinted a kiss on her brow. when he departed, it was with a promise to call for them the next morning, that they might make, with their aunt, some necessary purchases, and remove to a hotel near the river. everything was packed the ensuing day, when mary suddenly remembered that her books were still in the recitation-room, and would have gone for them, but florence said, "i will bring up the books, mary; you are tired and pale with bending so long over that trunk." and accordingly she went. mary threw herself on the couch to rest a moment, and fell into a reverie of some length, unheeding the flying minutes, when she recollected that florence had been absent a long time, and rising, was about to seek her; just then her cousin entered. a change had come over her countenance--peace, quiet, happiness reigned supreme. one hour later, and they had gone from madame ----'s, never to return again. chapter iv "time the supreme! time is eternity, pregnant with all eternity can give; with all that makes archangels smile who murders time, he crushes in the birth a power ethereal." young. a year had passed away. "how paradoxical is the signification of the term!" how vast, when we consider that each hour hastens the end of our pilgrimage! how insignificant in comparison with futurity! a single drop in the boundless deep of eternity! oh time! thou greatest of all anomalies! friend yet foe, "preserver and yet destroyer!" whence art thou, great immemorial? when shall thy wondrous mechanism be dissolved? when shall the "pall of obscurity" descend on thy herculean net-work? voices of the past echo through thy deserted temples, and shriek along thy bulwarks--never, no never! season had followed season in rapid succession, and the last rays of an august sun illumined a scene so beautiful, that i long for the pencil of a claude lorraine. it was a far-off town, in a far-off state, yet who has gazed on thy loveliness, oh, san antonio, can e'er forget thee! thine was the sweetness of nature; no munificent hand had arranged, with artistic skill, a statue here, a fountain there. the river wound like an azure girdle round the town; not confined by precipitous banks, but gliding along the surface, as it were, and reflecting, in its deep blue waters, the rustling tule which fringed the margin. an occasional pecan or live-oak flung a majestic shadow athwart its azure bosom, and now and then a clump of willows sighed low in the evening breeze. far away to the north stretched a mountain range, blue in the distance; to the south, the luxuriant valley of the stream. the streets were narrow, and wound with a total disregard of the points of the compass. could a stranger have been placed blindfold in one of them, and then allowed to look about him, the flat roofs and light appearance of most of the houses would have forced him to declare that he had entered a tropical town of the far east. many of the buildings were of musquit pickets, set upright in the ground, lashed together with strips of hide, and thatched with the tule before mentioned. there were scarce three plank-floors in the town; by far the greater number being composed of layers of pebbles, lime, and sand, rolled with a heavy piece of timber till quite compact; daily sprinkling was found necessary, however, to keep down the dust, produced by constant friction. the wealthy inhabitants built of sun-dried bricks, overcast with a kind of stucco. yet, unfortunately, the plastering art died with the montezumas, for the most vivid imagination failed to convert this rough coating into the "silver sheen" which so dazzled cortes's little band. the reader will exclaim, "i can fancy no beauty from so prosy a description. thatched roofs and dirt floors, how absurd!" although a strict analysis might prove detrimental, i assure you the _tout ensemble_ was picturesque indeed. "italia! oh italia! thou who hast the fatal gift of beauty." art rivaled here. thy gorgeous skies have floated hither, and hover like a halo round the town. the sun had set; the glowing tints faded fast, till of the brilliant spectacle naught remained save the soft roseate hue which melted insensibly into the deep azure of the zenith. quiet seemed settling o'er mountain and river, when, with a solemn sweetness, the vesper bells chimed out on the evening air. even as the moslem kneels at sunset toward the "holy city," so punctiliously does the devout papist bend for vesper prayers. will you traverse with me the crooked streets, and stand beneath the belfry whence issued the holy tones? this ancient edifice was constructed in . it fronted the plaza, and was a long, narrow building, flanked, as it were, by wings lower than the main apartment, and surmounted by a dome, in which were five or six bells. this dome or belfry was supported by pillars, and in the intervening openings were placed the bells. the roof was flat, and the dark green and gray moss clung along the sides. the interior presented a singular combination of art and rudeness; the seats were of unpainted pine, and the cement floor between was worn irregularly by the knees of devout attendants. the railing of the altar was of carved mahogany, rich and beautiful. over this division of the long room hung a silken curtain, concealing three niches, which contained an image of the "virgin," the "child," and in the center one, a tall gilt cross. heavy silver candlesticks were placed in front of each niche, and a dozen candles were now burning dimly. a variety of relics, too numerous to mention, were scattered on the altar, and in addition, several silver goblets, and a massive bowl for holding "holy water." a few tin sconces, placed against the wall, were the only provision for lighting that dark, gloomy church, and dreary enough it looked in the twilight hour. about a dozen devotees were present, all kneeling on the damp, hard floor. the silk curtain which concealed the altar was drawn aside, with due solemnity, by two boys habited in red flannel petticoats, over which hung a loose white slip. the officiating priest was seen kneeling before the altar, with his lips pressed to the foot of the cross. he retained his position for several moments, then rising, conducted the ceremonies in a calm, imposing manner. when these were concluded, and all had departed save the two boys, who still knelt before the virgin, he beckoned them to him, and speaking a few words in spanish, ended by pointing to the door and uttering, emphatically, "go." crossing themselves as they passed the images, they disappeared through a side door, and the priest was left alone. chapter v. * * * "he was a man who stole the livery of the court of heaven to serve the devil in; in virtue's guise, devoured the widow's house and orphan's bread; in holy phrase, transacted villanies that common sinners durst not meddle with." pollok. in years, he could not have exceeded twenty-five, yet the countenance was that of one well versed in intrigue. the cast was italian--the crisp black hair, swarthy complexion, and never-to-be-mistaken eyes. a large amount of jesuit determination was expressed in his iris, blended with cunning, malignity, and fierceness. the features were prominent particularly the nose; the lips finely cut, but thin; the teeth beautiful and regular. in stature he was low, and habited in the dress of his order, a long black coat or gown, buttoned to the throat, and reaching nearly to the feet. glancing at his watch as the sound of the last step died away, he paced round and round the altar, neglecting now the many genuflections, bows, and crossings with which he had honored the images in the presence of his flock. his brows were knit, as if in deep thought, and doubtless he revolved the result of some deep-laid plan, when the door was hurriedly opened, and a man, bowing low before the images, approached him. the dress of the stranger declared him a ranchero: he wore no jacket but his pantaloons were of buckskin, and his broad sombrero was tucked beneath his arm. "benedicit, juan!" "bueño noche, padre." "what tidings do you bring me?" said father mazzolin. the mexican handed him a letter, and then, as if much fatigued, leaned heavily against the wall, and wiped his brow with a large blue cotton handkerchief. as the priest turned away and perused his letter, a smile of triumphant joy irradiated his face, and a momentary flush tinged his dark cheek. again he read it, then thrusting it into his bosom, addressed the bearer: "may the blessing of the church rest upon you, who have so faithfully served your padre;" and he extended his hand. warmly it was grasped by juan, with a look of grateful surprise. "este bueño?" inquired juan. "si mui bueño. juan, do you read american writing?" "chiquito," was answered, with a slight shrug. "what is the news in the el-grand ciudad?" "they have a strong ox to pull the ropes, now santa anna is at the head. bravura!" and the ranchero tossed his hat, regardless of the place. it was, however, no part of mazzolin's policy to allow him for one moment to forget the reverence due the marble images that looked so calmly down from their niches, and with a stern glance he pointed to them, crossing himself as he did so. juan went down on his knees, and with an "ave maria," and a mexican dollar (which he laid on the altar), quieted his conscience. "señor austin is in the calaboose," he said, after a pause. mazzolin started, and looked keenly at him, as if striving to read his inmost thoughts. "you must be mistaken. juan; there is no mention of it in my letter?" he said, in a tone of one fearing to believe good news. "not at all, padre. we started together--there were fifteen of us--and after we had come a long way, so far as saltillo, some of santa anna's cavaleros overtook us, and carried señor americano back with them, and said they had orders to do it, for he was no friend to our nation. i know, for i heard for myself." "do you know the particular reason of his arrest?" juan shook his head, and replied, "that the officers did not say." "did you mention to any one your having a letter for me?" "no, padre; i tell no man what does not concern him." "a wise plan, juan, i would advise you always to follow; and be very careful that you say nothing to any one about my letter: i particularly desire it." "intiendo," said juan, turning toward the door. "i go to my ranche to-morrow, but come back before many sunsets, and if you want me again, padre, you know where to find me." "the blessing of the holy virgin rest upon you, my son, and reward you for your services in behalf of the church." "adios!" and they parted. father mazzolin drew forth the letter, and read it attentively for the third time, then held it over one of the twelve candles, and deliberately burnt it, muttering the while, "ashes tell no tales." extinguishing the candles and locking the door of the church, he said to himself: "all is as i foresaw; a breach is made which can only be closed by the bodies of hundreds of these cursed heretics; and santa anna is bloodthirsty enough to drain the last drop. alphonso mazzolin, canst thou not carve thy fortune in the coming storm? yea, and i will. i am no unworthy follower of loyola, of gavier, and of bobadillo. patience! a cardinal's cap shall crown my labors;" and with a chuckling laugh he entered the narrow street which led to his dwelling. "there is but one obstacle here," he continued; "that protestant girl's work is hard to undo," and his step became quicker. "but for her, i should have been confessor to the whole family, and will be yet, despite her warning efforts, though i had rather deal with any three men. she is as untiring as myself." he reached his door, and entered. chapter vi. "and ruder words will soon rush in to spread the breach that words begin; and eyes forget the gentle ray they wore in courtship's smiling day; and voices lose the tone that shed a tenderness round all they said." moore. inez de garcia was an only child, and in san antonio considered quite an heiress. her wealth consisted in broad lands, large flocks, and numerous herds, and these valuable possessions, combined with her beautiful face, rendered her the object of considerable attention. inez was endowed with quick perceptions, and a most indomitable will, which she never surrendered, except to accomplish some latent design; and none who looked into her beautiful eyes could suppose that beauty predominated over intellect. she was subtile, and consciousness of her powers was seen in the haughty glance and contemptuous smile. her hand had been promised from infancy to her orphan cousin, mañuel nevarro, whose possessions were nearly as extensive as her own. inez looked with indifference on her handsome cousin, but never objected till within a few weeks of her seventeenth birthday (the period appointed for her marriage), when she urged her father to break the engagement. this he positively refused to do, but promising, at father mazzolin's suggestion, that she should have a few more months of freedom, she apparently acquiesced. among the peculiar customs of mexicans, was a singular method of celebrating st. ----'s day. instead of repairing to their church and engaging in some rational service, they mounted their half wild ponies, and rode furiously up and down the streets till their jaded steeds refused to stir another step, when they were graciously allowed to finish the day on the common. the celebration of the festival was not confined to the masculine portion of the community; silver-haired señoras mingled in the cavalcade and many a bright-eyed señorita looked forward to st. ----'s day with feelings nearly akin to those with which a new york belle regards the most fashionable ball of the season. on the evening preceding the day of that canonized lady, mañuel entered the room where inez sat, her needle work on the floor at some distance, as though flung impatiently from her, her head resting on one hand, while the other held a gentleman's glove. light as was his step, she detected it and thrusting the glove into her bosom, turned her fine face full upon him. "what in the name of wonder brings you here this time of day, mañuel? i thought every one but myself was taking a siesta this warm evening." "i have been trying a new horse, inez, and came to know at what hour you would ride to-morrow." he stood fanning himself with his broad sombrero as he spoke. "excuse me, señor, i do not intend to ride at all." "you never refused before, inez; what is the meaning of this?" and his spanish brow darkened ominously. "that i do not feel inclined to do so, is sufficient reason." "and why don't you choose to ride, pray? you have done it all your life." "i'll be cross-questioned by no one!" replied inez, springing to her feet, with flashing eyes, and passionately clinching her small, jeweled hand. mañuel was of a fiery temperament, and one of the many who never pause to weigh the effect of their words or actions. seizing her arm in no gentle manner, he angrily exclaimed, "a few more weeks, and i'll see whether you indulge every whim, and play the queen so royally!" inez disengaged her arm, every feature quivering with scorn. "to whom do you speak, señor nevarro? you have certainly mistaken me for one of the miserable peons over whom you claim jurisdiction. allow me to undeceive you! i am inez de garcia, to whom you shall never dictate, for i solemnly declare, that from this day the link which has bound us from childhood is at an end. mine be the hand to sever it. from this hour we meet only as cousins! go seek a more congenial bride!" "hold, inez! are you mad?" "no, mañuel, but candid; for eight years i have known that i was destined to be your wife, but i never loved you, mañuel. i do not, and never can, otherwise than as a cousin." in a tone of ill-suppressed range, nevarro retorted: "my uncle's authority shall compel you to fulfil the engagement! you shall not thus escape me!" "as you please, señor. yet let me tell you, compulsion will not answer. the combined efforts of san antonio will not avail--they may crush, but cannot conquer me." she bowed low, and left the room. every feature inflamed with wrath, nevarro snatched his hat, and hurried down the street. he had not proceeded far, when a hand was laid upon his arm, and turning, with somewhat pugnacious intentions, encountered father mazzolin's piercing black eyes. "bueño tarde, padre." the black eyes rested on nevarro with an expression which seemed to demand an explanation of his choler. mañuel moved uneasily; the hot blood glowed in his swarthy cheek, and swelled like cords on the darkened brow. "did you wish to speak with me, padre?" "even so, my son. thou art troubled, come unto one who can give thee comfort." they were standing before the door of the harkell occupied by the priest: he opened it and drew mañuel in. an hour later they emerged from the house. all trace of anger was removed from nevarro's brow, and father mazzolin's countenance wore the impenetrable cast he ever assumed in public. it was his business expression, the mask behind which he secretly drew the strings, and lured his dupes into believing him a disinterested and self-denying pastor, whose only aim in life was to promote the welfare and happiness of his flock. when don garcia sat that night, _à la turk_, on a buffalo-robe before his door, puffing his cigarrita, and keeping time to the violin, which sent forth its merry tones at a neighboring fandango, inez drew near, and related the result of her interview with mañuel, concluding by declaring her intention to abide by her decision, and consult her own wishes in the selection of a husband. his astonishment was great. first he tried reasoning, but she refuted every argument advanced with the adroitness of an abelard: the small stock of patience with which "dame nature" had endowed the don gave way, and at last, stamping with rage, he swore she should comply, or end her life in a gloomy cell of san jose. inez laughed contemptuously. she felt the whirlwind she had raised gathering about her, yet sought not to allay it: she knew it was the precursor of a fierce struggle, yet quailed not. like the heroine of saragossa, or the martyr of rouen, she knew not fear; and her restless nature rather joyed in the strife. a low growl from the dog who shared the robe, announced an intruder, and the next moment the padre joined them. he was joyfully hailed by de garcia as an ally; but a dark look of hatred gleamed from inez's eyes, as they rested on his form: it vanished instantly, and she welcomed him with a smile. she was cognizant of his interview with nevarro, for her window overlooked the street in which it took place. she knew, too, his powers of intrigue; that they were enlisted against her; and a glance sufficed to show the path to be pursued. long ago her penetrating eye had probed the mask of dissimulation which concealed, like the "silver veil" of mokanna, a great deformity: how much greater because, alas! a moral one. father mazzolin inquired, with apparent interest, the cause of contention. the don gave a detailed account, and wound up by applying to him for support, in favor of nevarro. the look of sorrowful astonishment with which he listened, compelled inez to fix her large spanish eyes on the ground, lest he should perceive the smile which lurked in their corners, and half played round her lip. he rebuked her gently, and spoke briefly of the evils which would result, if she persisted in her wilful and ungrateful course. inez listened with a meekness which surprised both parent and padre; and when the latter rose to go, approached, and, in a low tone, requested him to meet her, that day week, in the confessional. woman's heart is everywhere the same, and in the solitude of her own apartment, inez's softer feelings found full vent. she sat with her face in her hands, one long deep; sigh, which struggled up, telling of the secret pain that was withering her joys and clouding her future. suddenly she started up, and passionately exclaimed, "it is hard that _his_ love should be wasted, on one whose heart is as cold and stony as this wall;" and she struck it impatiently. then drawing forth the glove, which on mañuel's entrance had been so hastily secreted, she pressed it repeatedly to her lips, returned it to its hiding-place, and sought her couch. chapter vii. "what cause have we to build on length of life: temptations seize when fear is laid asleep; and ill-foreboded is our strongest guard." young. st. ----'s dawn was welcomed by joyous peals from the church-bells, and the occasional firing of a few muskets, by way of accompaniment. the sun rose with a brilliance which would have awakened deep tones in memnon's statue, and gilded mountain and valley. beautiful beyond description the city looked in his golden light, and "all nature seemed rejoicing." half hid by a majestic live-oak which shaded the front, and within a few yards of the river, stood a small white house. it was built of adoles, and contained only three rooms. instead of reaching these by a broad flight, one step from the threshold placed you on the ground. the floor was uncovered, and, as usual, of cement. in one corner of the front apartment stood a sideboard, covered with glass of various kinds, and a few handsome pieces of plate. its _vis-à-vis_ was a range of shelves, filled with books; and on the plain deal mantelpiece stood a pair of neat china vases, decked with brilliant prairie flowers. before the open window was placed the table, arranged for the morning meal. how pure the cloth looked, how clear the glass; and then the bouquet of fragrant roses which adorned the center, how homelike, fresh, and beautiful it seemed! an air of comfort--american, southern comfort--pervaded the whole. the breakfast was brought in by a middle-aged negress, whose tidy appearance, and honest, happy, smiling face presented the best refutation of the gross slanders of our northern brethren. i would that her daguerreotype, as she stood arranging the dishes, could be contrasted with those of the miserable, half-starved seamstresses of boston and new york, who toil from dawn till dark, with aching head and throbbing heart, over some weary article, for which they receive the mighty recompense of a shilling. when she had arranged every dish with great exactness, a small bell was rung; and, waiter in hand, she stood ready to attend the family. a bright, young face appeared at the open window. "i hope, aunt fanny, you have a nice breakfast. you have no idea what an appetite my walk has given me." "now, miss mary, ain't my cooking always nice?" "indeed, it is. your coffee would not disgrace a pasha's table; and your rolls are 'the whitest, the lightest, that ever were seen.'" she disappeared from the window, and entered the room just as mr. hamilton came in, followed by florence. "my dear uncle, have you forgotten the old adage of 'early to bed, and early to rise?'" "i am not sure that i ever learned it, mary;" he dryly replied, seating himself at the table. "one would suppose you had taken a draught from the 'elixir of life;'" said florence, glancing affectionately at her beaming face. "i have discovered the fountain of perpetual youth, so vainly sought in south america!" "indeed! is it located in this vicinity?" "yes; and if you will rise to-morrow with aurora, when 'she sprinkles with rosy light the dewy lawn,' i will promise to conduct you to it." "thank you; but, mary, what induced you to ramble so early?" "i have been nearly two miles for some roots mrs. carlton expressed a wish for. see, florry, how i have dyed my hands pulling them up!" "were you alone, mary?" asked mr. hamilton. "i was, most of the time. as i came back, dr. bryant overtook me. he spent the night at san jose mission, with a sick mexican, and was returning. but where is aunt lizzy?" continued mary, with an inquiring glance round the room. "she went to mass this morning," replied her cousin. "oh, yes! it is st. ----'s day. i heard the bells at daybreak." "it is a savage, heathenish custom they have adopted here, of tearing up and down the streets from morning till night. i wish, by jove! they would ride over their canting padre! i think he would find some other mode of celebrating the festival!" "he would lay claim to saintship on the strength of it," replied mary. "you had better keep out of the street to-day, girls," rejoined mr. hamilton, pushing his cup away, and rising from the table. at this moment aunt lizzy entered; and after the morning salutation, turned toward the door. "you are later than usual this morning, aunt. do sit down and eat your breakfast, or it will be so cold you cannot touch it," said mary. "no really devout catholic tastes food on this holy day," she answered, motioning it from her. "it must be quite a penance to abstain, after your long walk," said mr. hamilton with a smile. "father mazzolin said, this morning, that all who kept this holy day would add a bright jewel to their crown, and obtain the eternal intercession of the blessed saint;" and she left the room. "that falsehood adds another stone to the many that will sink him in the lake of perdition, if there be one!" muttered mr. hamilton, as he departed for the counting-room. the last few sentences had fallen unheeded on florence's ear, for she sat looking out the window, her thoughts evidently far away. but every trace of merriment vanished from mary's face, and instead of her bright smile, a look of painful anxiety settled there. a long silence ensued; mary stood by the table, wiping the cups as aunt fanny rinsed them, and occasionally glancing at her cousin. at length she said, "florry, will you walk over to mrs. carlton's with me? i promised to go, and the walk will do you good, for indeed your cheeks are paler than i like to see them." "certainly, mary, but do you remember what father said about our remaining at home, to-day?" "there is no danger, florry, if we only look about us, and i really must go." "well then, let us start at once." in a few moments they set out, equipped in large straw hats, and equally large gloves; in addition, mary carried in her hand a basket, filled with herbs and flowers. "if we walk briskly, we shall get there before any of the riders set forth. ah! i am mistaken, there they come. florry, don't go so near the street: that horseman in blue, looks as though he were riding on ice--see how his horse slides about!" a party of twenty or thirty thundered past, and the girls quickened their pace. a few minutes' walk brought them to mrs. carlton's door, which closed after them. that lady was reading, as they entered, but threw aside her book, and advanced joyously to greet them. she kissed mary affectionately, and cordially shook florence's hand. "i am glad you came, mary. i feared you would not, and really i want you very much." "what can i do, mrs. carlton?" "you can take off your hat and gloves, and prepare yourselves to spend the day with me." they laughingly complied, protesting, however, that they could only remain a short time. "mary, my poor blind proselyte died yesterday, and bequeathed her orphan child to me: i feel almost obliged to accept the charge, for her fear lest it should fall into the padre's hands was painful to behold, and i promised to protect it if possible. the poor little fellow is nearly destitute of clothes; i have cut some for him, and knew you would assist me in making them." "with pleasure, dear mrs. carlton, and so will florry; fill my basket with work, and we will soon have him a suit. oh! how glad i am that he has such kind friends as yourself and husband." "the padre came last night to demand the child, but we refused to give him up: he said he intended clothing and educating the boy free of charge; yet i knew better, for he refused to baptize madame berara's orphan-niece without the customary fee, though he well knew she could ill afford it, and was compelled to sell her last cow to make up the requisite sum. i feel assured he will do all in his power to entice erasmo from me; but hope, by constant watchfulness, to counteract his influence. oh! mary, how much we need a protestant minister here: one who could effectually stem the tide of superstition and degradation that now flows unimpeded through this community. oh! my dear friend, let us take courage, and go boldly forth in the cause of truth, and strive to awaken all from the lethargy into which they have fallen--a lethargy for which their priests are alone responsible, for they administered the deadly drug." "i feel as deeply as yourself, dear mrs. carlton, the evil tendency and deplorable consequences of the institutions by which we are surrounded, and the little that i can do will be gladly, oh, how gladly! contributed to the work of reformation you have so nobly begun." "you forget, mary, in your proselyting enthusiasm, that aunt lizzy belongs to the despised sect; surely you can not intend, by attacks on her religion, to render her home unpleasant?" said florence. mary's eyes filled with tears, as she glanced reproachfully at her cousin, and replied, "nothing is further from my wishes, florry, than to make her home other than happy. aunt lizzy has every opportunity of informing herself on this important question. yet she prefers the easier method, of committing her conscience to the care of the priest; she has chosen her path in life, and determinately closes her eyes to every other. the state of the mexicans around us is by no means analogous. they were allowed no choice: bred from infancy in the romish faith, they are totally unacquainted with the tenets of other creeds. implicit obedience to the padre is their primary law, the grand ruling principle of life, instilled from their birth. to lay before them the truths of our own 'pure and undefiled religion,' is both a privilege and duty." "you spoke just now, miss florence, of the 'despised sect;' allow me, in all modesty, to say, that to the true and earnest christian there is no such class. believe me, when i say, that though deeply commiserating their unhappy condition, and resolved to do all in my power to alleviate it, still i would as cheerfully assist the conscientious papist, and tender him the hospitalities of my home, as one of my own belief." "you have expressed my feelings exactly, mrs. carlton, and there are times when i wish myself a missionary, that i might carry light to this benighted race," exclaimed mary, enthusiastically. "we are very apt, my dear child, to consider ourselves equal to emergencies, and capable of great actions, when a strict examination would declare that the minor deeds and petty trials which test the temper and the strength too often destroy our equanimity, and show our inability to cope with difficulties. woman's warfare is with little things, yet we are assured by the greatest of all female writers, that 'trifles make the sum of human things;' therefore, let us strive more and more earnestly to obtain perfect control of ourselves; then shall we be enabled to assist others." "i often think," replied mary, thoughtfully, "that we make great sacrifices with comparative ease, because we feel our own insufficiency, and rely more on god for assistance; while in lesser troubles we are so confident of success, that we neglect to ask his blessing, and consequently fail in our unaided attempts." "you are right, mary, and it should teach us to distrust our powers, and lead us to lean upon 'him, who is a very precious help in time of need.'" a long silence ensued, broken at length by the entrance of mrs. carlton's two children, who carried a large basket between them. hastily they set it down, on seeing mary, and sprung to her side: the little girl clung around her neck, and kissed her repeatedly. "maria, you are too boisterous, my little girl; miss mary will have no cause to doubt your affection. elliot, why do you not speak to miss florence, my son?" blushing at his oversight, the boy obeyed, and, joined by his sister, stood at his mother's side. maria whispered something in his ear, but he only shook his head and replied, "not now, sister, let us wait." she hesitated a moment, then laid her little hand on mrs. carlton's shoulder. "mother, i know you said it was rude to whisper in company, but i want to tell you something very much." mrs. carlton smiled. "i am sure the young ladies will excuse you, my daughter, if it is important." she bent her head, and a prolonged whispering followed. a flush rose to the mother's cheek and a tear to her eyes, as she clasped her to her heart, and said, "i wish you, my children, to speak out, and tell all you know of this affair." elliot was spokesman. "we went into the garden as you desired us, mother, and erasmo and i picked the peas, while sister held the basket; presently we heard a noise in the brush fence like something coming through, and sister got frightened (here he laughed), and wanted to run to the house, but we told her it was only a sheep or dog outside; but it turned out to be the padre, and he came and helped us to pick. mother, he told us such pretty stories; i can't think of the names; they must have been dutch, they were so long and hard. but i remember one of the tales; he said there was once a good man who lived in asia, and one day he lost his crucifix; he looked everywhere for it, but could not find it; and a long time afterward, he happened to be walking by the sea-shore and looked out on the water, and oh, what do you think! he saw his crucifix moving on the water, and a great crab paddled out to land and laid his crucifix down before him, and then paddled right back into the sea again. now wasn't that funny. i can't think of the good man's name, saint--somebody--saint--saint--" "brother, i reckon it was saint crab!" "no, no! it was the crab that found the crucifix, and i think he was smarter than the saint." "now, florry, should i repeat this legend to aunt lizzy, it would be impossible to convince her that it proceeded from the padre's lips. yet even prelates of rome scruple not to narrate as miracles tales equally absurd, where their auditory is sufficiently ignorant to credit them. pardon my interruption, elliot, and finish your story," continued mary. "mother, the padre talked to erasmo in spanish. i could not understand all he said, but it was about coming to live with him, and going to mexico, to see the sights there. when he came to the rows you left for seed, i told him we must come to the house, and asked him to come in; but he would not, and offered us all some money, and said we must not tell a soul we had seen him, for he happened to see us through the fence, and just came in to speak to us, and you and father might think he ought not to come into our garden. but oh, mother, would you believe it! he told erasmo, as he went off, that he must ask you to let him go to bathe to-morrow; and instead of going to the river, he must come to the church: he wanted to give him something. he told him in spanish, but i understood what he said. now, wasn't that teaching him to tell a lie? and he a padre too! mother, don't you think he ought to be ashamed?" "elliot, if you would gladden the hearts of your father and mother, be ever truthful. remember the story of 'pedro and francisco' you read not long ago, and put dishonesty and dissimulation far from you: 'honesty is the best policy,' and if you adhere to it through life, it will prove of 'far more worth than gold.' be sure you keep nothing from me, particularly what the padre may say." "shall we take the peas out under the hackberry and shell them," said maria. "yes, my dear, but first tell me where erasmo is." "sitting on the steps, mother. i know he will help us to shell them, for he said it was mere fun, picking peas." "say nothing to him of the padre or his conversation, but interest him about other things." they left the room swinging the basket between them. mrs. carlton's eyes filled as she looked after her children. "a mother's care can do a great deal, yet how little did i imagine that temptation would assail them at such a time, and in such a garb." "oh, guard them carefully; for, surrounded by these influences, it will be difficult to prevent contamination," said mary, earnestly. just then a long, loud shout from the street attracted their attention, and hastening to the door, they perceived a crowd gathered on the plaza. in the center was a body of mexican cavalry, headed by their commanding officer, who, hat in hand, was haranguing them. the ladies looked at each other in dismay. "to what does this tend?" asked mary, anxiously. "my husband told me several days since that austin was imprisoned in mexico, and said he feared difficulties would ensue, but knew not the cause of his confinement." "there is dr. bryant coming toward us; i dare say he can tell us the meaning of this commotion." that gentleman, bowing low in the saddle, reined his steed as near the step as possible. "how do you do, miss hamilton, and you, my dear sister? i had the pleasure of meeting miss mary in her morning rambles; she is a most remarkable young lady. assures me she actually loves early rising." his dark eyes were fixed laughingly upon her. "do stop your nonsense, frank, and tell us the cause of that crowd," said mrs. carlton, laying her hand on his arm. "my dear sister, that tall, cadaverous-looking cavalier is the brother-in-law of santa anna, and no less a personage than general cos, sent hither to fortify this and every other susceptible place." "against whom or what?" "it is a long story, ladies. you know that coahuila has pursued an oppressive policy toward us for some time, and refused to hear reason: austin remonstrated again and again, and at last went to mexico, hoping that the authorities would allow us (here he bit his lip, and his cheek flushed)--it galls my spirit to utter the word--allow us to form a separate state. the congress there took no notice of his petition, for, in truth they were too much engaged just then about their own affairs to heed him, and he wrote to several persons in austin, advising them at all hazards to proceed. some cowardly wretch, or spy in disguise, secretly despatched one of his letters to the ministers; consequently, as austin was returning, they made him prisoner, and carried him back to mexico. santa anna is at the head of affairs. he has subverted the too liberal constitution of , but is opposed by a few brave hearts, who scorn the servitude in store for them. santa anna knows full well that we will not submit to his crushing yoke, and therefore sends general cos to fortify the alamo. this is the only definite information i have been able to glean from several sources." "do you think there is probability of a war?" "it will most inevitably ensue, for total submission will be exacted by santa anna, and the texans are not a people to comply with any such conditions." "you think general cos is here to fortify the alamo?" "yes; the work commences to-morrow, i hear, and the fort will be garrisoned by spanish troops." "how many has he with him?" inquired his sister. "only fifty or sixty; this is merely the advanced guard, the main body will probably arrive in a few days." "i suppose they are joyously welcomed by the mexicans here, who have ever regarded with jealous eyes protestant settlers." "oh, yes, that shout testified the hearty welcome they received." at this moment mr. hamilton joined the group. "have you heard the news?" he inquired. "yes, and sad enough it is," said mary, with a sigh. "it will be a bloody conflict." "i am afraid so," replied dr. bryant. "come, girls, i am going home, will you go now?" mary took her basket, which mrs. carlton had filled with work, and they descended the steps. "i declare, miss irving, i have a great desire to know what that basket contains; it is as inseparably your companion as was the tub of diogenes. i often see it round a corner before you are visible, and at the glimpse of it, invariably sit more erect in saddle, and assume my most amiable expression." he raised himself, and peeped inquiringly over the edge; mary swung it playfully behind her. "i never gratify idle curiosity, dr. bryant." "indeed, how very remarkable; but i assure you i know full well the use to which those same herbs you had this morning are to be applied; you are amalgamating nauseous drugs, and certain pills, to be administered to my patients. i am grieved to think you would alienate what few friends i have here, by raising yourself up as a competitor. pray, where did you receive your diploma? and are you thomsonian, allopathic, homeopathic, or hydropathic?" mary looked at mrs. carlton: both smiled. "ah! i see ellen is associated with you. do admit me to partnership; i should be a most valuable acquisition, take my word for it. a more humble-minded, good-hearted, deeply-read, and experienced disciple of esculapius never felt pulse, or administered a potion." they laughed outright. "mary, shall we tell frank what we intend those herbs for?" "by no means, he does not deserve to know." "ah! i see terence was right after all, in his opinion of woman's nature--'when you request, they refuse; when you forbid, they are sure to do it.'" "come, girls, come! i have business at home;" said mr. hamilton, and they set out homeward. they had not proceeded far, when mary exclaimed, pointing behind her, "oh, uncle, that woman will be killed! can nobody help her?" "she will certainly be thrown from her horse!" a party of five or six mexicans were riding with their usual rapidity toward them. an elderly woman in the rear had evidently lost control of her fiery horse, which was plunging violently. the other members of the company seemed unable to render any assistance, as their own could scarcely be restrained. the unfortunate señora was almost paralyzed with fright; for instead of checking him by the reins, they had fallen over his head, become entangled in his feet, and, now grasping the mane, she was shrieking fearfully. "oh, can't we do something for her!" cried mary, clasping her hands. "i do not see how we can assist her," said mr. hamilton. "at least, let us try;" and they hastened to the spot where the infuriated animal was struggling. "stand back, girls! you can do nothing." he made several ineffectual attempts to catch the bridle, as the forefeet rose in air, and at last succeeded in getting one end. he bade the woman let go the mane, and slide off. she did so, but some portion of her dress was caught in the saddle, and she hung suspended. the horse feeling the movement, again plunged, despite mr. hamilton's efforts to hold him down. the scene was distressing indeed, as she was raised and then, flung down again. mary saw the danger, and rushing round the enraged horse, fearlessly pushed off the piece which was attached to the pommel of the saddle, and freed the unfortunate matron. the horse, feeling relieved of his burden, gave a desperate bound, and rushed off down the street. florence shrieked, and sprung to her father's side. mary was bending over the moaning woman, but turned suddenly, and saw her uncle stretched at florence's feet. he was insensible, and a stream of blood oozed from his lips. they raised his head, and motioned to the mexicans, that now gathered round, for water; some was hastily procured, and then mary entreated one of them to go for dr. bryant: as she spoke, the tramp of hoofs caused her to look up, and she perceived him urging his horse toward them. he flung the reins to a man who stood near, and bent over the prostrate form. "there is some internal injury, i see no outward wound; how did this happen?" florence briefly explained the manner in which her father received a kick on the chest. happily, they were near their own home, and, with the assistance of two men, dr. bryant carefully bore him in, and laid him on a couch near the open window. a restorative was administered, and soon the sufferer opened his eyes. the flow of blood had ceased, but he lay quite exhausted. the physician examined the wounded place, and assured florence there was no fracture. "i am afraid some blood-vessel is ruptured?" said she, anxiously. "it is only a small one, i hope, but cannot tell certainly for several days. he must be perfectly quiet; the least excitement might prove fatal, by causing a fresh hemorrhage." nearly a week passed, and one evening mary followed the physician as he left the house: he heard her step, and turned. his usually laughing countenance was grave and anxious; but he strove to seem cheerful. "doctor, i wish to know what you think of my uncle's case; we are afraid it is more serious than you at first pronounced it?" "it is better that you should know the worst. i am pained to grieve you, but candor compels me to say, that a fatal injury has been inflicted. i hoped for the best, but an examination this evening confirmed my fears." mary sobbed bitterly and long. dr. bryant sought not to comfort her by exciting false hopes, but paced up and down the gravel-walk beside her. "you do not fear a rapid termination of the disorder?" she said at last, in a low, trembling tone. "he may linger some days, but i do not think it probable that he will." "florry, florry! what is to become of us?" cried the weeping girl, in a voice of agony. "oh, god! spare him to us!" "do you think your cousin comprehends her father's danger?" "she fears the worst, and requested me this evening to ask your opinion. oh, how can i tell her that he must die!" "do not crush all hope (though i have none); let her believe that he may recover. she is not of a temperament to bear prolonged agony. the shock will be less painful, rest assured. believe me, i deeply sympathize with you both." and pressing her hand, he withdrew. chapter viii. "see! the dappled gray coursers of the morn beat up the light with their bright silver hoofs, and chase it through the sky!" marston. inez left her father's door as the last notes of the matin bell died away on the cool, clear morning air. she held in her hand a silken scarf, which, according to the custom of her country, was thrown lightly across the head, and confined at the chin. beautiful she looked, with the feverish glow on her cheek, and her large spanish eyes, restless and piercing, flashing out at times the thoughts of her inmost soul. she threw the mantilla round her head, and turned toward the church. the step was firm yet hasty. she seemed endeavoring to escape from herself. the streets were silent and the plaza deserted, and naught seemed stirring save the swallows that twittered and circled round and round the belfry of the church. there was something soothing in the deep stillness that reigned on that balmy morning, and inez felt its influence. she paused at the entrance of the gray old church, and stretched forth her arms to the rosy east. "peace, peace!" she murmured, in a weary tone, and sunk her head upon her bosom. the door opened behind her, and raising herself proudly, she drew the scarf closer about her, and entered. a basin of holy water was placed near, and hastily she signed the figure of the cross and proceeded down the aisle to a side door leading to one of the wings. she pushed it noiselessly ajar and passed in. a solitary tin sconce dimly lighted the small confessional, dark and gloomy as night, at that early hour. a wooden cross suspended from the wall, a stone bench, and table, on which lay a rosary and crucifix, and a small vessel of holy water, formed the entire furniture. before this table sat father mazzolin, his face buried in his hands. her step, light as it was, startled him; yet without rising, he murmured, "benedicit." "bueño dios, padre." he motioned to her to kneel, and she did so, on the damp floor at his feet, drawing the scarf over her face, so as to conceal the features. "bless me, my father, because i have sinned." he laid his hands on her bowed head, and muttered indistinctly a latin phrase. "i confess to almighty god, to blessed mary, ever virgin, to blessed michael the archangel, to blessed john the baptist, to the holy apostles peter and paul, and to all the saints, that i have sinned exceedingly in thought, word, and deed, through my most grievous fault. therefore i beseech the blessed mary, ever virgin, the blessed michael the archangel, the blessed john the baptist, the holy apostles peter and paul, and all the saints, to pray to the lord our god for me. "since my last confession, i accuse myself of many sins. i have missed mass, vespers and many holy ordinances of our most holy church. have borne hatred, and given most provoking language. "i have broken the engagement thou did'st command me to keep; have angered mañuel, and enraged my father greatly. i neglected fasting on the day of our most holy saint ----. "i have entered this church, this holy sanctuary, without crossing myself; and passed the image of the blessed virgin without kneeling." she paused, and bent her head lower. 'the padre then said, "my daughter, thy sins are grievous; my heart bleeds over thy manifold transgressions." "even so, my father; even so." "dost thou still bear enmity to mañuel nevarro, who loves thee truly, and is thy promised husband?" "no, my father; i desire to be speedily reconciled to him whom i have offended." "wilt thou promise to offer no objection, but become his wife?" "my father, i do not wish to be his wife; yet thy will, not mine." a smile of triumph glittered in the padre's eye at this confession; yet his low tone was unchanged. "inez, i will not force thee to marry mañuel, yet thou shalt never be another's wife. in infancy thou wast promised, and thy hand can never be joined to another. choose you, my daughter, and choose quickly." "padre, give me time. may one so guilty as i speak out?" "yes, speak; for i would have thine inmost thoughts." "father, let me spend a month of quiet and peace among the holy sisters at san jose; there will i determine either to be mañuel's wife, or dedicate the remainder of my life to the service of god and our most holy lady." "you have spoken well: even so shall it be; but, inez, i would question you further and see you answer me truly, as you desire the intercession of the blessed virgin." inez lifted her head, and fixing her eyes full on his swarthy face, replied with energy: "my father, even as i desire the intercession of our blessed virgin, so will i answer." the head was bent again on her bosom. he had sought to read her countenance during that brief glance, but there was a something in its dark depths he could not quite understand. "my daughter, hast thou been of late with that protestant girl, by name mary irving?" "i have seen her twice since last confession." "where did you meet her?" "once at señora perraras, and once she came for me, to walk with her." "answer truly. upon what subjects did you converse?" inez seemed striving to recall some portion of what had past. at last she said, "indeed, padre, i cannot remember much she said. it was mostly of birds, and trees, and flowers, and something, i believe, about this beautiful town, as she called it." "think again. did she not speak lightly of the blessed church, and most holy faith? did she not strive to turn you to her own cursed doctrines, and, above all, did she not speak of me, your padre, with scorn?" "no, my father, most truly she did not." again she raised her eyes to his face. piercing was the glance he tent upon her. yet hers fell not beneath it: calm and immovable she seemed. he lifted his hand menacingly. "i bid you now beware of her, and her friend, the trader's wife. they are infernal heretics, sent hither by the evil one to turn good catholics from their duty. i say again, beware of them!" and he struck his hand heavily on the table beside him. "and now, my daughter, have you relieved your conscience of its burden? remember, one sin withheld at confession will curse you on your death-bed, and send you, unshriven, to perdition!" a sort of shudder ran through the bowed form of inez, and in a low tone, she replied, "i also accuse myself of all the sins that may have escaped my memory, and by which, as well as those i have confessed, i have offended almighty god, through my most grievous fault." "i enjoin upon you, as penance for the omission of the holy ordinances of our most holy church, five credos when you hear the matin bell, twelve paters when noon comes round, and five aves at vespers. these shall you repeat, kneeling upon the hard floor, with the crucifix before you, and your rosary in your hand. in addition, you must repair to a cell of san jose, and there remain one month. moreover, you shall see and speak to none, save the holy sisters. and now, my daughter, i would absolve you." inez bent low, while he spread his hands above her head and pronounced the latin text to that effect, then bade her rise, and dismissed her with a blessing. the sun was just visible over the eastern hills, as inez stepped upon the plaza. her face was deadly pale, and the black eyes glittered strangely. "i have knelt to thee for the last time, father mazzolin. long enough you have crushed me to the earth; one short month of seeming servitude, and i am free. think you i too cannot see the gathering tempest? for long i have watched it rise. it may be that happiness is denied me; but yonder gurgling waters shall receive my body ere i become a lasting inmate of your gloomy cell. my plan works well; even my wily padre thinks me penitent for the past! but dearly have i bought my safety. i have played false! lied! where is my conscience? have i one? no, no! 'tis dead. dead from the hour i listened to the padre's teachings! if there be a hereafter, and, oh! if there is a god, what will become of me?" and the girl shuddered convulsively. "yet i have heard him lie. i know that even he heeds not the laws of his pretended god! he bade me follow his teachings, and i did, and i deceived him! hal he thinks the game all at his fingers' ends. but i will neither marry mañuel, nor be a holy sister of jose. there will come a time for me. now i must work, keep him in the dark, spend the month in seclusion; by that time the troubles here will begin, and who may tell the issue?" a quick step behind her caused inez to turn in the midst of her soliloquy. dr. bryant was hastening by, but paused at sight of her face. "ah, señorita! how do you do this beautiful morning?" he looked at her earnestly, and added, "you are too pale, inez--much too pale. your midnight vigils do not agree with you; believe me, i speak seriously, you will undermine your health." her eyes were fixed earnestly on his noble face, beaming with benevolence, and a slight flush tinged her cheek, as she replied, "dr. bryant, i am not the devout catholic you suppose me. the padre thinks me remiss in many of my duties, and i am going for a short time to san jose. you need not look at me so strangely, i have no idea of becoming a nun, i assure you." "inez, one of your faith can never be sure of anything; let me entreat you not to go to the convent. you need recreation, and had much better mount your pony, and canter a couple of miles every morning; it would insure a more healthful state of both body and mind." "i must go, dr. bryant." "well then, good-by, if you must, yet i fear you will not return looking any better." "adios," and they parted. inez's eye followed the retreating form till an adjoining corner intervened. then pressing her hand on her heart, as if to still some exquisite pain, she murmured in saddened tones--"oh! i would lay down my life for your love, yet it is lavished on one who has no heart to give in return. oh, that i may one day be able to serve you!" at the moment she perceived mañuel nevarro crossing the plaza, and drawing closer the mantilla, she hastened homeward. chapter ix. "a perfect woman, nobly planned; to warn, to counsel, to command, the reason firm, the temperate will, prudence, foresight, strength, and skill." wordsworth. the beautiful ideal of wordsworth seemed realized in mrs. carlton. she was by nature impetuous, and even irritable; but the careful training of her deeply pious mother early eradicated these seeds of discord and future misery. she reared her "in the way she should go," and taught her to "remember her creator in the days of her youth." crushing vanity, which soon rose hydra-headed in her path, she implanted in her daughter's heart a sense of her own unworthiness, and led her to the "fountain of light and strength." under her judicious care, ellen's character was molded into perfect beauty. she became a christian, in the purest sense of the term. hers were not the gloomy tenets of the anchorite, which, with a sort of spartan stoicism, severs every tie enjoined by his great creator, bids adieu to all of joy that earth can give, and becomes a devotee at the shrine of some canonized son of earth, as full of imperfections as himself. neither did she hold the lighter and equally dangerous creed of the latitudinarian. her views were of a happy medium; liberal, yet perfectly orthodox. ellen married early in life, and many were the trials which rose up to test her fortitude, and even her reliance on almighty god. of six beautiful children that blessed her union, four went down to an early tomb. though bowed to the earth by the weight of her affliction, she murmured not against the hand that chastened her; but as one by one was snatched from her warm embrace, she poured out the depth of a mother's love on the remaining two. one stroke of fortune reduced her, in a day, from affluence to comparative penury; and leaving his luxurious home, mr. carlton resolved to seek his fortune in the western world. hither she had accompanied him, encountering, without a murmur, the numerous hardships, which those who have not endured can never fully realize. they had preceded mr. hamilton but a few months, and joyfully welcomed him as an agreeable acquisition to their little circle. mrs. carlton found in mary a real friend; one who sympathized with, and assisted her in her many benevolent plans for ameliorating the condition of the destitute mexicans around them. with florence, the former had little affinity, and, consequently, little intercourse. their tastes were directly opposite, and though they often met, there was no interchange of the deep and holier feelings of the heart. frank bryant was the orphan-brother of mrs. carlton, and almost as dearly loved by her as her own darling elliot. a few months before st. ----'s day, he reached san antonio, on a visit to the sister, from whom he had been separated several years. soon after his arrival, an epidemic made its appearance among the lower order of mexicans; and as there was no resident physician at that early time, his services were speedily in requisition. the padre, who numbered among his many acquirements a tolerable knowledge of medicine, viewed with indifference the suffering around him; and was only roused from his lethargy by discovering the flattering estimation in which frank was held. fearing so formidable a rival in the affections of his people, he left no means untried to undermine the popularity so deservedly acquired. but gratitude is a distinguishing trait of indian character; and though apparently obeying the injunctions of their padre, to follow no directions save his own, they reverenced dr. bryant as a being of superior order. it was beside the bed of a dying friend that inez first met him. one long weary night they watched together, and when at last death freed the sufferer, with mingled emotions of admiration and gratitude she thanked him for the attentions conferred with such disinterested benevolence. she could not avoid contrasting the conduct of the cold and calculating jesuit with the warm-hearted kindness of the noble stranger. in a few days it became evident that she had herself imbibed the disease, and her terrified father brought the young physician to restore her. with unwearied patience he watched over the beautiful señorita, whom mrs. carlton and mary most carefully nursed, and was rewarded by the glow of returning health. the idols of her youth were neglected and forgotten; one image filled inez's heart, and before it she poured out all the passionate love of her ardent nature; hence her aversion to a union with mañuel nevarro. dr. bryant early perceived her attachment; and knowing full well that he could never return it, avoided her society with a delicacy peculiarly his own. when thrown accidentally into her presence, his manner was frank, kind, and brotherly. inez did not deceive herself for a moment by supposing that he would ever return her love. she knew too well the nature of the barrier which intervened. to remain unfettered, to see, to love, and one day to serve him, was her dearest wish; and for its gratification she dared the rage of her father, and the hatred of her padre. she fancied he loved another, and with the characteristic jealousy of her nation, an aversion to that object settled on her heart. dr. bryant had nursed the last patient into convalescence: still he lingered, and at the close of st. ----'s day, announced his intention of remaining until the difficulties with mexico were either amicably arranged, or war declared. mary and florence he often met, for he was a constant visitor at mr. hamilton's. his manner toward them was very different; with mary he ever assumed the light bantering tone of brotherly freedom; with florence he was always grave and earnest. their conversation was generally upon literary topics, of which she was fond. many were their discussions for and against their favorite authors and philosophers. in these arguments mary seldom took part, though fully qualified to do so. occasionally her cousin asked her opinion on various topics; at such times she gave them clearly, yet modestly, and with a gentle dignity peculiar to herself. the earnest attention with which frank listened to her views, and his happy smile, when they coincided with his own, somewhat puzzled mary; yet she welcomed his repartees with the same bright smile, and allowed distrust and jealousy no room in her heart. chapter x. "he swore that love of souls alone had drawn him to the church; yet strewed the path that led to hell with tempting flowers, and in the ear of sinners, as they took the way of death, he whispered peace." pollok. how wearily pass the hours to the anxious watcher beside the couch of pain. to her, it seems as though the current of time had forgotten to run on and join the mighty past, and that its swift waters were gathering glassily around her. with unmitigated care, florence had attended the bedside of her suffering parent; occasionally slumbering on his pillow, but more frequently watching through the long nights, and often stealing to the casement, to look out upon surrounding gloom, and wonder if the light of day would ever fall again on earth. ah! in the midnight hour, when all nature is hushed when universal darkness reigns, when the "still small voice" will no longer be silenced, then we are wont to commune with our own hearts. all barriers melt away, and the saddened past, the troubled present, and the shadowy future rise successively before us, and refuse to be put by. in vain we tightly close the aching lids; strange lurid lights flare around us, and mysterious forms glide to and fro. to the guilty, how fearful must the season of darkness prove, when, unable longer to escape from themselves, they yield to the pangs of remorse, and toss in unutterable anguish! "by night, an atheist half believes a god." and thousands, who in the sunny light of day rush madly on to ruin, pause, shudderingly, in the midnight hour, and look yearningly toward the narrow path where virtue's lamp, flashing into the deepest recesses of surrounding gloom, dispels all shadow; and, in imagination, view the christian peacefully descending the hill of life, fearlessly crossing the "valley of the shadow of death," and resting at last on that blest shore, where night and darkness are unknown, "swallowed up in endless day." it was very evident that mr. hamilton could survive but a few days; and to every entreaty that she would take some rest, florence but shook her head, and replied, that she would not leave him when he must die so soon. one evening dr. bryant, having administered a soothing potion, turned to her and said, "my dear miss hamilton, you will seriously injure your health by such constant watching. your father needs nothing now but quiet. let me entreat you to go out for a short time; the air will refresh you, and your aunt will remain with mr. hamilton." he drew her reluctantly from her seat as he spoke, and whispered mary to accompany her. drawing her arm round florence, mary turned in the direction of their accustomed rambles, but her cousin said, "i am too weary to walk far, let us go to our old seat by the river." the stream was only a few yards distant, and they seated themselves on a broad, flat stone, beneath a cluster of pomegranate and figs. the evening was beautifully clear, the soft light which still lingered in the west mellowing every object, and the balmy southern breeze, fresh from "old ocean's bosom," rustling musically amidst the branches above. as if to enhance the sweetness of the hour, and win the mourners from their sad thoughts, the soothing tones of the vesper bells floated afar on the evening air; distance had softened them, and now they sounded clear and eolian-like. the river eddied and curled rapidly along at their feet; and ever and anon, the stillness that seemed settling around was broken by the plunging fish, that gambled in hundreds amidst its blue waters. "how calm and holy this stillness seems! florry, does it not cause you to lift your heart in gratitude to the 'almighty giver' of so many blessings?" "all things are dark to sorrow;" replied florence, and folding her arms across her bosom, she dropped her head wearily upon them. "oh, florry, do not give up so! i cannot bear to hear your despairing tone. still hope; your dear father may be spared to us;" and she put her arms caressingly around her. "hope!" echoed florence; "i have ceased to hope that he will recover. i know that he cannot; and in a few hours i shall be alone in the world. alone, alone!" she repeated the words, as if fully to realize the misery in store for her. "o god! why hast thou not taken me before? take me now; oh, in mercy, take me with him!" in vain mary strove to soothe and console her; she remained perfectly still, her face hid in her arms, and replied not to her anxious questionings. a long silence ensued, and mary wept. a feeling of desolation began to creep over her; a second time she was to be thrown on the wide, cold world. she thought of her uncle's generosity and unvaried kindness during the many years she had dwelt under his roof, and scarcely felt that it was not her own. and then there stole up the image of her lost mother; the wan, but saint-like face, and the heavenly smile with which she pointed upward, and bade her child prepare for the glorious union, in that mansion which jehovah assigned to those who are faithful on earth. poor mary's heart was sad indeed; yet there was no bitterness in her soul, no rebellious feelings toward almighty god, who had thus afflicted her so sorely. she wiped away her tears, and calming herself as much as possible, repeated, in a faltering voice, the beautiful hymn commencing "i would not live always." she paused at the conclusion of the second verse; but florence did not lift her head, and hoping to cheer her, she finished the hymn. twilight had fallen on the earth, and the blue vault of heaven was studded with its myriad lamps. the new moon glittered like a golden thread--low in the west--and seemed almost to rest upon the bosom of the stream, as it curved in the distance to meet the horizon. "come, florry, you must not stay out so late; i am afraid you will take cold!" florence rose mechanically and accompanied her. "oh, florry, do try and trust in god, and believe that in every trial and affliction he will comfort and assist us." her cousin sighed heavily, but made no reply. as they reached the gate it was quickly opened, and the padre met them: he bowed coldly to mary, but shook hands with florence, and promised to come again the ensuing day. it was so late that mary could not distinguish his features; but just as he turned to go, aunt fanny threw open the kitchen door, and the light streamed full on his face; their eyes met, and she started at the smile of triumph that irradiated his dark countenance: he bowed, and passed on. mary hastened down the walk, and entered the sick room, fearing she scarcely knew what. the invalid was tossing restlessly from side to side, and on the pillow lay a rosary and crucifix. for an instant she stood motionless; then sprang forward, and clasped his burning hand in hers. "uncle! dear uncle! tell me who has been with you! aunt lizzy promised she would not leave you till we came back you have been excited: your hands are burning with fever!" "i was not alone, mary; the padre sat and talked with me;" as the sufferer spoke, he shuddered and closed his eyes. "and did he leave these here!" said she, taking up the crucifix and rosary. "no, no! they are mine!" and he snatched them from her. mary turned pale, and leaned against the bed for support. florence, now bending over her father, motioned to her cousin to be silent; without effect, however; for, passing round the bed, she knelt beside him. "uncle, was it by your desire that the padre came here this evening?" he did not seem to hear her question; she repeated it. "yes; that is, this is not his first visit." "uncle, why do you evade me? tell me, i entreat you, if he did not force himself here in my absence!" "mary, will you drive my father delirious with your interference with his wishes?" "no, florry, not when i am convinced that such are his wishes. i know that in health he is no more a papist than you or i; yet, now i see him clinging to that rosary and crucifix, what am i to think? if you can explain this mystery, do so, florry." "the day that you were at mrs. carlton's, learning to make that custard my father likes so well, the padre came, and kindly sat with him some time. he came the next night, and the next; and read and prayed with him. i hope you are satisfied now that there is no intrusion." all this was whispered so low as not to reach the ears of the invalid. "were you present at any of these interviews, florry?" "no; they always preferred being alone," "oh! why did you not tell me this before?" "i am sure i can't see what you are so excited about! if my father chooses to become a catholic, i should think it would relieve you to know that he realizes his situation." she turned resolutely away as she finished speaking, and seated herself beside the bed. mary left the room almost stunned by the discovery she had made; and scarce knowing what to do, wrapped her shawl about her, and walked quickly to mrs. carlton's. to her she related all she had just learned, and begged her advice and assistance. mrs. carlton was sorely puzzled and much distressed. "i fear, mary, it is too late to remedy the evil." "oh, do not say so! i cannot bear that he should die in that faith; he is too feeble to oppose anything they offer, and is scarcely conscious of his own actions. in health, they dared not approach him; for they knew full well that he scorned their creed, and disliked their padre. yet now that he is so weak, in both body and mind, they hope to influence him. oh, how could florence be so blind! dear mrs. carlton, come and reason with him. i know he esteems you very highly, and your opinion might weigh with him." "indeed, my dear child, i will do all in my power to dissuade him from the unfortunate course he has taken, but not to-night; he must be wearied very much already. i will come in the morning." early the ensuing day she fulfilled her promise, and in florence's presence strove to elicit his views and belief. to her surprise he refused to hold any conversation on the subject; declaring that his mind was made up, and that he was determined to die a member of the holy catholic church. before she could frame a reply, they were startled by the sound of a struggle at the door, and the next moment it was flung wide open, and father mazzolin, livid with rage, rushed in. mrs. carlton rose with gentle dignity, and inquired his business. he heeded not her question, but strode to the bed, and whispered in mr. hamilton's ear. the invalid, in a voice so feeble that it was scarce audible, requested them to leave him with the padre for an hour, as he wished to converse with him alone. mrs. carlton perfectly well understood that he but repeated the priest's orders, and perceiving that nothing could now be effected, left the room accompanied by florence. but mary clung to the bed, and refused to go. "you have taken advantage of my uncle's weakness to force yourself where your presence is unwelcome, and i will not leave him when he is too weak to oppose your orders." he strove to force her out, but she clung firmly to the bed; and muttering an oath between his teeth, he turned to the sufferer, and spoke in an unknown tongue; a feeble response in the same language seemed to satisfy him, and darting a triumphant glance at the kneeling girl, he seated himself, and conversed for nearly an hour. then offering up a latin prayer, departed, promising to come again. mrs. carlton had not left the house; she waited anxiously for mary. and when florence re-entered the sick room, the former hastened to her friend. "oh, i did all i could to prevent it!" cried mary, in despair. "all is over, i am afraid. i was sitting on the doorstep, preparing some arrowroot, when i saw aunt lizzy go out the gate. i thought it strange at the time of day, but never suspected the truth. presently i saw her coming back with the priest, and knew in an instant she had gone for him. i was determined to prevent his seeing my uncle, if possible, and fastened the front door. before i could lock my uncle's, he wrenched open the window, and sprang in. i tried to put the key in my pocket, and told him he could not go in then; but he made aunt lizzy hold one of my hands, while he forced open my fingers and took the key. oh! that dr. bryant had been here." she showed mrs. carlton the marks of his grasp on her wrist. "tell, oh, tell me what i can do to save him!" "alas! nothing, mary. he is completely under the control of the padre, and no reasoning will avail him now." with a sad heart mrs. carlton took leave, advising mary "to offer no further resistance, as it was now impossible to convince her uncle of his error." chapter xi. "he's gone--his soul hath ta'en its earthless flight, whither? i dread to think--but he is gone!" byron. mr. hamilton, though perfectly conscious that his end was rapidly approaching, had scrupulously avoided the subject in the presence of the girls. one morning, after a night of more than ordinary suffering, he lay quite exhausted. death was at hand, and feeling intuitively that the appointed hour had arrived, he requested all to withdraw, save florence. when they were alone, he laid his hand on her head, and said, in a low, feeble tone--"florence, i am going. i cannot survive this day, and i wish to give you my last advice. i am afraid your lot will be a hard one, when i am gone; trials without number are in store for you. oh! my proudhearted, beautiful florence, what will become of you now?" he covered his face with his hands a moment, then continued--"i do not wish you to return to your native place. my child must be dependent on no one, yet to leave you here so unprotected, is hard indeed. dr. bryant has promised to watch over you, and the carltons are kind friends. florence you must depend upon yourself. thank god, you are strong-minded, and mary, our kind, good mary, will be near, to comfort and assist you. i am growing weaker, but there is one more thing i wish to say." he paused, and for the first time florence spoke. "my father, tell me every wish; fear nothing for me, there is nothing i cannot bear now." "for my sake, florence, if not for your own, will you promise to be guided by father mazzolin?" "do you mean in matters of religion, my father?" "i mean in all things: matters of interest, as well as matters of faith. he will assist you much, if you will but follow his advice and directions." there was a pause, and then florence said slowly, as if weighing every word--"rest assured your wishes shall be my law. i will consult the padre as you desire." with a look of relief the dying man sank back on his pillow, and closed his eyes. florence quickly summoned the physician, and her aunt and cousin. a little while after, as mr. hamilton's eye fell on the weeping mary, he extended his hand, and when she bent over him, drew her face down, and imprinted a long kiss on her pale cheek. even as he did so, a dark form glided to the bedside. another moment, the uncle and niece were separated; none knew how, yet the padre stood between, whispering low in the sufferer's ear. almost gasping for breath, the latter intimated his desire to confess for the last time. and they were left alone. nearly an hour after, the priest entered the apartment where florence and mary sat. he trembled visibly, yet, in his usual tone, said that he wished the family to be present at the last rites about to be performed for the dying papist. they immediately repaired to the sick room, and the spectacle there presented made mary quiver in every limb. the sufferer had been placed for convenience on a low couch, and was supported by pillows in an upright position. a dozen candles burnt around him, and a cloud of incense wreathed slowly along the wall. the room had been profusely sprinkled with holy water, and a chalice containing the consecrated wafer, sat near. gasping for breath, mr. hamilton clasped a crucifix to his lips, though unable from weakness to secure it there; for twice it fell from his fingers, and rolled to the floor. father mazzolin, attired in a surplice ornamented with the insignia of his order, stood beside the bed, holding in one hand a superbly-bound volume--in the other, a silver cup containing oil. after a moment's pause he opened the book, and hurriedly read in a low, muttering tone, a latin service of several pages. at the conclusion he carefully poured out a few drops of the oil, and just touched the palms of the sufferer's hands and the soles of his feet, bidding him at the same time cross himself. perceiving that he was utterly unable to do so, he hastily signed the figure and resumed his reading. how long he would have gabbled on it is impossible to say, but a gasping sound from the dying man declared that dissolution was at hand, and, snatching the chalice, he hastily administered the wafer, which was swallowed with difficulty. for the third time, father mazzolin strove to replace the crucifix in his hand and bend it to his lips. the cold fingers refused to clasp the consecrated wood, and sank, stiffened and powerless, by his side. mary had gazed mournfully on as this mummery was enacted. a death-bed for a theater, weeping relatives an audience, and father mazzolin an amateur performer. aunt lizzy was kneeling beside the padre, ever and anon invoking the virgin; while florence sat with her face in her hands, almost as unconscious of what passed as her dying parent she bent over him now, and in heartrending accents conjured him not to leave her. he struggled in vain to utter words of comfort; they died away in whispers, and, with a slight moan, the spirit returned to the god that gave it. the padre snatched his hat and hastily left the house, while mary gave vent to an uncontrollable burst of sorrow. florence seemed suddenly frozen, so rigid was her countenance, as she gazed on the cold form before her. she neither wept nor moaned, but closed the eyes with a long, long kiss, and drawing a sheet over the marble features, turned, with a slow, unfaltering step, away. chapter xii. "for now that hope's last ray is gone, sure lethe's dream would bless: in grief to think of bliss tha'ts flown, adds pangs to wretchedness." anonymous. a fortnight had passed, and again it was evening. in the small dining-room of florence hamilton's humble home assembled the now diminished family circle. florence sat sadly apart, leaning her head, with closed eyes, against the window. the tea bell rang; she lifted her head, glanced round the room, and wearily dropped her brow again on its resting-place. mary approached, and taking her hand, said, in a gentle, winning tone, "come, florry dear." "eat your supper, mary; i do not wish any." "but you have not eaten anything to-day, and need something; do try, for my sake." "i cannot. if you knew how both head and heart ache, you would not urge me." mary turned away, and ate the usually joyous meal with a heavy heart. florence had left her seat, and was standing in the door: as her cousin rose from the table she beckoned to her, and passed hurriedly out. mary strove to catch her arm but she hastened on, as if trying to escape from herself. suddenly she paused by the river side, and clasped her hands convulsively over her head. "mary! mary! you know not what i suffer." "florry, sit down, and lean your weary head on my shoulder." she dipped her hand in the water, and dashed the cold, sparkling drops on her cousin's burning brow, speaking the while in a low, soothing tone. florence rested a few moments in her cousin's arms, then threw herself on a grassy bank, and covered her face; one long, deep groan alone attesting her mental anguish. mary wept more bitterly than she had yet done; still, she was so quiet, none would have known her grief, save from the tears that fell over her hand and arms. can it be, that the spirits of departed friends hover near us while on earth, and draw closer in hours of woe? if so, why is it denied to the suffering one to hear again the dear accents of the "loved and lost?" why may not their silver pinions fan the burning brow of sorrowing mortality, and the echo of heaven's own melody murmur gently, "peace, peace and joy for evermore?" florence stood up before her cousin; all trace of emotion had passed away, and left her calm. the bright moon shone full on her face. oh! how changed since the morning she stood in madame ----'s schoolroom. the large dark eyes were sunken; the broad brow marked with lines of mental anguish; the cheeks colorless, and her long raven hair tossed back, and hanging like a veil below her slender waist. there was a hollow, wasted look in every feature; the expression was one of hopeless misery, and a something there was which made the heart ache, yet the haughty glance of other days might still be seen. "mary, look at me!" "well, florry, i have looked at you, and sad enough it makes me feel." "i am changed mary, strangely changed, am i not? answer me truly." "yes, you look weary and ill; but why do you ask me such a question? you have had cause to look pale." "ah! you say truly; but, mary, have you never suspected that a secret grief was freezing the life-blood in my cheeks?" "florry, what do you mean? i am afraid you are feverish!" and mary laid her hand anxiously on her cousin's. it was flung contemptuously off. "mary, listen to what i have to say. i am in a strange mood to-night, and you must not contradict me. where shall i begin? when my mother died i was four years old, they say, and a very delicate child. my mother! how strange it sounds. yet i can at times faintly remember her beautiful face. very faintly, as in a dream, i have seen an angel visitant. my mother, why did you leave your hapless babe? oh! why? my mother! i was left much to myself, and followed unrestrained my own inclinations. you know my fondness for books; that fondness was imbibed in girlhood, as i wandered in my own sunny home--my lost home. my father taught me to conceal my emotions--to keep down the rising sob, to force back the glittering tear; and when i smiled over some childish grief, applauded my stoicism. i became unnatural, cold, haughty, but not unfeeling. i remember well how your pale face and mourning dress touched my heart, and waked my sympathies. from that hour i lavished my love on my father and yourself. years passed and we went to new orleans--" here florence paused, and closed her eyes for a moment, but quickly resumed--"you know how i studied. mary, was it merely from love of metaphysics and philosophy, think you? no. no! mr. stewart's look of surprise and pleasure as, one by one, i mastered various intricacies, was the meed for which i toiled. mary, from the first day we met, i loved him, for his was a master spirit i worshiped him in my inmost soul, and he loved me in return. i know--i feel that he did. yet he was even prouder than myself, and would have scorned to speak of love to one who never smiled in his presence. oh! often when, he stood beside my desk giving instruction, my heart has sprung to him. i have longed to hear the words of tenderness that welled up from his heart, but scorned to tremble on his lips. no look of love ever fell on me. his glance was cold and haughty. oh, how inconsistent is woman! i yearned for his love; yet, had he tendered it, under my haughtiness would have dropped my idol--have shivered it at my feet. weeks passed, and while near him i knew no sorrow; but the morning of my life was destined to be short. the cloud that had lowered on the horizon suddenly darkened around. that never-to-be-forgotten letter came, and i saw a great gulf open at my feet. an invisible hand placed dudley stewart on one brink, and i was left upon the other; and an unknown messenger thundered the decree of separation--'forget the past and live again in the future!' i started as from a frightful dream. the cold reality forced itself upon me. mary, a suspicion stole into my heart, and stung me. i thought for a brief time that mr. stewart loved you, and whose hand may register the darkened thoughts that crowded bitterly up? the morning we left new orleans, i went into the schoolroom for our books. ah! who may know the agony of that hour! i sat down in his chair, and laid my head on his desk, and groaned in mine anguish of spirit. oh! mary, that was the blackest, bitterest hour of my life. i had fancied he loved me: i feared i was deceived; i hated--despised myself for my weakness. yet i could not reproach him; he had never sought my love. "i had just risen from his desk when mr. stewart came in. he did not seem to see me, but took a seat near the door. i was well-nigh exhausted, but strove to appear as cold and indifferent as ever. i gathered up my books and turned to go, then he laid down his pen, and came to me. "'i believe you and your cousin leave to-day?' "'yes. in this evening's boat,' i answered, much as usual. "'i wish you a safe and pleasant voyage. my kindest adieux to your cousin. good-by, miss hamilton.' "he held out his hand. i said 'good-by' as clearly and coldly as himself. our hands met but an instant: there was no pressure--no warmth, and then he opened the door for me to pass. as he did so our eyes met; his glance was calm and cold, but his lips were firmly compressed. had he looked sad, mournful, or tender, i should have passed out and triumphed; but my overtasked strength gave way; a cold shudder crept through my frame, and consciousness forsook me. i never fainted before or since. when i revived, i raised my head and looked about me, i was reclining on a couch; he kneeling beside me, calmly, as he would have stood in class. he held my hand, and pressed it warmly. "'are you better now, florence?' "'oh, yes, thank you,' i said, and rose to my feet. "he still held my hand. i withdrew it, and turned to the door. he placed himself before it, and said--'florence, it was well done; you are an admirable dissembler, but i am not deceived. you love me, and have for long, yet i freely acknowledge your love can never exceed my own. i love you better than my life, though perfectly aware that we are now parted forever. i am a poor tutor, dependent on my daily exertions for subsistence; you the cherished daughter of a wealthy and ambitious parent.' "he drew me to him, and imprinted a long kiss on my lips; then put me gently back, and left the room. "i never saw him again, but did i doubt his love? no, no! i would sooner doubt my own existence. we embarked, as you know, in the evening. that night was beautiful--just such a one as this--serene and heavenly. i stole out on deck when others slumbered, and for a long weary hour paced to and fro. there was a wild tumult in my soul which would not be stilled, and every restraining effort but fanned the flame that raged within. a never-to-be-forgotten contest was waged that night, and my heart was the arena. my guardian angel whispered low, 'forget the past as a feverish dream; it is not well for thee; forget, forget!' but the heaven-born accents were suddenly drowned by the wild shriek of my dark destiny--'of lethe's waters thou shall never taste! i have shattered the goblet at thy feet, and scattered the draught to the winds of heaven! behold the apotheosis of thine idol! at this shrine shalt thou bow evermore--evermore!' "a new impulse was implanted within me; and, impotent to resist, i was impelled onward, and onward, till a chasm yawned at my feet. yet a moment i trembled on the brink, then plunged desperately forward. mary, listen. i knelt on the damp, glistening deck, and implored almighty god to register my words in heaven. in his awful name and presence, i solemnly swore to love dudley stewart alone--to be his wife, or go down to the tomb as florence hamilton. i rose up calm--the fierce warring was stilled. yet it was not inward peace that succeeded. my fate was sealed--the last page of destiny transcribed. "time passed on, oblivious of the darkened hours it bore on its broad bosom. mary, i have watched for one loved form, and listened for that calm, proud step. i have loved, and trusted, and believed that we should meet again. deluded florence! a period is put to thy hopes and fears! mary, he is married! all is over for me. the dull, heavy weight resting upon my heart will soon crush out the life spark, and lay low my proud head. ah! i my cousin, you weep. i wish that i could; but tears have been _too_ often scornfully repulsed; they come not now at my call. oh, mary, i am weary, weary! i long for rest, even the rest of the dark, still tomb! i have no hope--no wish. i am passive now. at last nature has broken the bonds so long forced upon her, and the reaction is strong indeed. you ask how i received my information: ah! you need not doubt its authenticity. aunt lizzy and his mother were old friends, and she received a letter the day before my father died, announcing _his_ approaching union with a beautiful cousin! i am deservedly punished: i worshiped the creature and forgot the god. i needed a desperate remedy, and it is administered." as florence concluded she leaned heavily against a tree, and raised her eyes to the jeweled vault above. just then a dense black cloud, which had floated up from the west, passed directly over the moon, obscuring the silvery rays. she pointed to it, and said, in a low, mournful voice--"how typical of my life and heart; shut out from joy and hope in one brief hour, unlike it ever to be brightened again." "oh! florry, dear florry! turn to god for comfort and succor in this hour of need. he will enable you to bear this trial, and go steadily on in the path of duty." "mary, i have no incitement to exertion; nothing to anticipate. my future is blank and dreary. i know my lot in life; i have nothing to hope for." "not so, florry. your future life will be an active one. are we not dependent on our exertions for subsistence? and does not our little school open to-morrow? cheer up, darling all may yet be bright. bury the painful remembrances of the past; believe me, peace, if not joyousness, will surely follow the discharge of your duties." "i cannot forget the past. had he sought my love, i could scorn him for his baseness; but it is not so, i almost wish it were. yet i know and feel that he loves me; and oblivion of the past is as impossible for him as, myself. i know not what strange impulse has induced me to tell you all this. i did it half unconsciously, hoping for relief by revealing that which has pressed so heavily on my heart. mary, never speak to me of it again; and, above all, do not mention his name. it has passed my lips for the last time, and all shall be locked again within my own heart. we will open the school to-morrow; and may god help me, mary, pray, oh, pray for me! i had no mother to teach me, and prayer is a stranger to my lips." she walked hurriedly to the house, and shut herself within her own apartment. chapter xiii. "freedom calls you! quick! be ready: think of what your sires have been: onward! onward! strong and steady, drive the tyrant to his den." percival. how intoxicating is the love of power; and how madly the votaries of ambition whirl to the vortex of that moral corbrechtan, which has ingulfed so many hapless victims. our own noble washington stands forth a bright beacon to warn every ruler, civil or military, of the thundering whirlpool. father of your country! you stand alone on the pedestal of greatness; and slowly rolling years shall pour their waters into the boundless deep of eternity ere another shall be placed beside you. when iturbide attempted to free his oppressed countrymen from the crushing yoke of spanish thraldom, liberty was the watchword. success crowned his efforts--sovereign power lay before him. he grasped it, and made himself a despot. ambition hurled him from the throne of the montezumas, and laid his proud head low. a new star rose on the stormy horizon of the west; pure and softly fell the rays on the troubled thousands round. the voice of the new-comer said "peace," and the wild tumult subsided. ten years passed; santa anna culminated. the gentle tones of the arch-deceiver were metamorphosed into the tiger's growl, the constitution of subverted in a day, and he ruled in the room of the lost iturbide. * * * * * the alamo was garrisoned. dark bodies of mexican troops moved heavily to and fro, and cannon bristled from the embrasures. the usually quiet town was metamorphosed into a scene of riot and clamor, and fandangos, at which bacchus rather than terpsichore presided, often welcomed the new-born day. the few americans[a] in san antonio viewed with darkened brows the insolent cavaliers. the gauntlet was flung down--there was no retraction, no retreat. they knew that it was so, and girded themselves for a desperate conflict. [footnote [a]: it doubtless appears absurd to confine the title of "americans" to the few citizens of the united states who emigrated to texas, when all who inhabit the continent are equally entitled to the appellation. yet the distinction is mexican; "los americanos" being the name applied to all who are not of spanish descent.] the declaration of independence was enthusiastically hailed by the brave-hearted texans, as they sprang with one impulse to support the new-born banner, that floated so majestically over the sunny prairies of their western home. mechanic, statesman, plowboy, poet, pressed forward to the ranks, emulous of priority alone. a small, but intrepid band, they defied the tyrant who had subverted the liberties of his country; defied santa anna and his fierce legions, and spurned the iron yoke which the priests of mexico vainly strove to plant upon their necks. liberty, civil and religious, was the watchword, and desperately they must struggle in the coming strife. mañuel nevarro had eagerly enlisted in the mexican ranks, and in a few weeks after general cos's arrival, donned his uniform. thus accoutered, he presented himself, for the first time since their disagreement, before inez, who had but recently returned from san jose, doubting not that her admiration of his new dress would extend to him who filled it. in truth, his was a fine form and handsome face; yet sordid selfishness, and, in common parlance, "a determination to have his own way," were indelibly stamped upon his countenance. inez was busily preparing the evening meal when he entered; and though perfectly aware of his presence, gave no indication of it. he stood aside and watched her movements, as she shaped and turned the tortillas. presently she began to sing "he quits his mule, and mounts his horse, and through the streets directs his course-- through the streets of gacatin, to the alhambra spurring in, wo is me, alhama. "and when the hollow drums of war beat the loud alarm afar, that the moors of town and plain might answer to the martial strain, wo is me, alhama. as the mournful cadence died away, she turned, and started with well-feigned surprise on meeting the piercing glance fixed upon her. "ah, mañuel!" she held out both hands, with a most amicable expression of countenance. he grasped them, and would have kissed her beautiful lips, but she slipped adroitly to one side--"no, no! mañuel. i'll not permit that till i am señora nevarro." "and when will that be, señorita?" "not till the war is over." "but it has not begun yet; and it will be many moons before we whip these cursed americanos." "how many, think you, mañuel?" "i can't tell, inez; therefore we will not wait till the war is over. the padre is ready any time, and why not marry at once?" "sacra dios! i'll do no such thing." "and why not, inez?" "because they might kill you, mañuel, and then what would become of me?" "you would be as well off then as now; there would be no difference, only you would be married. you will mourn, any how, if i am killed." "how do you know i would?" her spanish eyes twinkled as she spoke; but for fear of going too far, she laid her hand on his shoulder. mañuel turned sharply round. "you deserve to be shot, mañuel, for joining in a miff. why didn't you tell me you were going to be a soldier?" he grasped her hand tighter, but made no reply. "i say, why did not you tell me first?" "and if i had told you, what then?" "why, i should not have let you do it, you savage. if you had only asked me, i might be willing to marry you next week. but as it is, i am not going to be left a widow, i can tell you." "inez, i don't believe you care whether i am killed of not. i do not understand you at all." the girl's eyes filled, and her lip quivered with emotion. "mañuel do you think me a brute? there is nobody to love inez but her father and you. i am not cold-hearted." "you speak truth, inez; and my uncle will not live very long, for he has seen many years. when he is gone, there will be nobody to take care of you but me; so the sooner we are married the better." "not so. you must come and see us as often as you can till the war is over; but i will marry no one now." "will you promise it shall be as soon as the war is over?" inez coquettishly tossed her beautiful head, and advancing to the fire, gaily exclaimed--"while we talked the tortillas burned. come, eat some supper. i know they are as good as those you get at the alamo." mañuel seated himself on a buffalo-robe, and while partaking of the evening meal, inez chatted away on indifferent subjects, asking, during the conversation, what news had been received from the texan army. "we got news to-day that they are marching down to gonzales, but i am thinking they will find hot work." "how many men may we number, mañuel, and think you the chances are for us?" "by the blessed virgin, if we were not ten to five mañuel nevarro would not eat his tortilla in peace. the captain says we will scatter them like pecans in a high wind." "what bone is there to fight for at gonzales?" "cannon, inez, cannon. don't you know we sent a thousand men to bring it here, and the white rascal sent five hundred to keep it there. by the virgin, we will see who gets it!" "holy mother protect us! mañuel, take care of yourself, man, and rush not into danger. it will profit you little that we have many men, if some strong arm tells your length on the sward." "never fear, inez--never fear. we must not stop till every american turns his back on the alamo, and his face to the east." "but you will not harm those that live here in peace with all men?" "the padre told our general, yesterday, that we must fight till all submitted, or the last american child was driven to the far bank of the sabine." inez laid her hand on his arm, and looking him full in the face, asked, in a low tone--"mañuel, would you help to drive mary from her home among us? she who nursed me in sickness, and bound the white bread to your bleeding arm, and made the tea for my dying mother, when none other came to help? mañuel! mañuel! she is alone in the world, with only her cousin. spare mary in her little home; she hurts none, but makes many to die in peace." mañuel's face softened somewhat, but he replied in the same determined tone--"the padre says she is an accursed heretic, and he will not rest till she is far away. but i tell you now, inez, she will not be harmed; for he said he would see that she was protected, and would himself take her to a place of safety. he said she had been kind to our people, and none should molest her or her cousin; but leave all to him." "if the padre promised, he will place them in safety; he never forgets to do what he says. i am satisfied, mañuel; and for the rest of the americans, the sooner they are driven out the better." "you say truly, inez, the sooner the better: all, all shall go, even their doctor, that carries himself with such a lordly air, and sits in saddle as though never man had horse before. but the moon is up; i must return, for i watch to-night, and must be back in time." he put on his hat as he spoke. "mañuel, come as often as you can, and let me know what is going on. you are the only one whose word i believe; there are so many strange tales nowadays, i put little faith in any. and before you go, put this crucifix about your neck: 'twill save you in time of danger, and think of inez when you see it." she undid the fastening which held it round her own throat, and pressing it to her lips, laid it in his hand. astonished at a proof of tenderness so unexpected, mañuel caught her in his arms, but disengaging herself, she shook her finger threateningly at him, and pointed to the door. he lighted his cigarrita, and promising to come often, returned to the alamo. left alone, the spanish maiden sought her own apartment, muttering as she ascended the steps--"the padre protect you, mary! yes, even as the hawk the new chicken. take thee to a place of safety! even as the eagle bears the young lamb to his eyrie. yes, mañuel, i have bound the handkerchief about your eyes, you think i love you, and trust both padre and crucifix! trust on, i too have been deceived." chapter xiv. more like somnambulism than waking reality was now the life of florence hamilton. no duty was unperformed, so exertion spared to conduce to the comfort of the now diminished family circle. no words of repining or regret were uttered--no tear dimmed the large dark eyes. she moved and lived as it were mechanically, without the agency of feeling or sympathy; yet though she obtruded her grief on none, it was equally true that no gleam of returning cheerfulness ever lightened the gloom which enveloped her. a something there was in the hopeless, joyless expression of her beautiful face, which made the heart ache; yet none offered sympathy, or strove to console her, for she seemed unapproachable, with the cold, haughty glance of other days. painfully perceptible was the difference between christian fortitude and perfect hopelessness--gentle, humble resignation and despair. there was no peace in her soul, for her future was shrouded in gloom: she had no joys in anticipation. the sun of hope had set forever to her vision, and she lived and bore her grief like one who had counted the cost, and knew that for a little while longer she must struggle on; and that oblivion of the past was dispensed only by the angel of death. she acquiesced in mary's plan of opening a small school, and unfalteringly performed her allotted task as assistant teacher. unexpected success had crowned their efforts, and fifteen pupils daily assembled in the room set apart for the purpose. mary had feared opposition on the part of the padre, and was agreeably surprised at the number of catholic children committed to her care. one morning early in october, having finished her household duties, she repaired to the schoolroom for the day. florence was already at her post, though suffering from violent nervous headache. mary seated herself with her back to the door, and called one of her classes. arithmetic it proved; and if the spirits of the departed were ever allowed to return in vindication of their works, the ghost of pythagoras would certainly have disturbed the equanimity of the "muchachos," who so obstinately refused the assistance and co-operation of his rules and tables. in vain she strove to impress on one that from left . like the little girl that wordsworth met, he persisted "it was seven." despairing at last, she remanded the class to their seats. anxious to facilitate the progress of her pupils, mary spared no pains to make perspicuous what to them appeared obscure. the little savages could not, or would net understand that the earth was like a ball, and not only turned upon its own axis, but made the entire circumference of the sun. a pair of globes could not be procured, and she taxed her ingenuity for a substitute. selecting two apples, one enormous, the other medium size, she carefully introduced a reed through the center of the smaller apple, thus causing it to revolve on its axis. calling up the tyros in geography, she took the smallest, or "earth," as she designated it, and while causing it to perform the diurnal motion, she carried it slowly round the larger, or "sun," as she termed it; thus illustrating the combined movements of our globe. even the dullest could not fail to comprehend; and well satisfied with the result of her experiment, she carefully put her planets by in one corner of the schoolroom, and proceeded with her questions. the imperfect recitation finished, mary glanced across the room, hoping her cousin's patience was not so tried, and some brilliant coruscations in that direction fixed her attention. florence had dropped her aching head on the desk in front, shading her eyes with her hand; before her, in dark array, stood some half dozen small boys just beginning to spell. each held a book containing illustrations of various well-known articles and animals, having the name beneath. "u-r-n--teapot." elliot carlton, whose seat was near, gave a suppressed giggle. florence looked around inquiringly, then dropt her head again on her hand, bidding the boy "spell on." "s-t-a-g--goat." elliot crammed his handkerchief into his mouth, and mary smiled. "w-i-g--curly head." florence was effectually roused this time by a shout of laughter from elliot, in which he was joined by mary, and dr. bryant, who had just entered and was standing in such a position that no one had perceived him. "really, miss hamilton, i must congratulate you on the extraordinary progress your pupils make; i was not aware that you cultivated their powers of comparison in connection with the rudiments of orthoepy," "to what do you allude, doctor; i am scarcely conscious of what passes around me this morning," said florence, wearily pressing her hand across her aching brow. "i am not surprised that you are somewhat stunned, though, after all," he continued, pointing to the picture of a ringleted pate, "the little fellow was not far wrong, for this wig is incontestibly a curly head," with a faint smile which passed as quickly as it came, she dismissed the class with an additional lesson. "i am sorry to see you suffering so much this morning," said frank, seating himself beside her: "and should certainly not recommend this schoolroom as an antidote to nervous attacks. miss mary, why do you allow your cousin to overtax her strength? however, i bring you good news. we have had an engagement at gonzales, and, thank heaven, are victorious. the brave five hundred sent to preserve the field-piece there, encountered double their number of the enemy, and not only saved the cannon, but scattered the mexicans in all directions. our brave band are marching to coliad, where they expect to supply themselves and comrades with ammunition; they have probably taken the magazine before this, and are returning." "thank heaven we have triumphed!" cried mary, fervently clasping her hands; "but oh! if the tide should turn this way, what will become of us? the mexicans are numerous here, and the alamo strongly fortified and in their possession." she turned her eyes inquiringly on frank, and started as she met the earnest, searching expression of his, bent full upon her face. "how pale you have grown of late," he murmured as to himself, and replied to her questioning glance--"i think, myself, there is much danger incurred by remaining here; but rest assured you shall not be harmed. i am watching the signs of the times, and will warn you should peril approach." he took florence's hand, and pressed it as he spoke; then turning to mary, who had walked away, he said--"i must insist on your cousin having rest; she is weary and too much excited, and you, who are a good nurse, must take better care of her." "indeed, doctor, i did my best to prevent her teaching to-day, but she would not listen to my entreaties," replied mary, with averted head. "if i might venture to advise yourself and cousin, miss hamilton, i should suggest the discontinuance of your school, at least for the present; for in these stormy times one scarce knows what a day may bring forth: and, indeed, your pupils are dropping off within the last few days, and you had better disband voluntarily." "i believe you are right, doctor; and if mary concurs with us, i think we will follow your advice." "do as you think best, florry; i suppose we would have no pupils soon, even if we continued our efforts; yet i dislike very much to give up the school so very soon." her voice faltered slightly, and her cheek grew paler. "your reluctance to dismiss these children, i am not surprised at; and if it will relieve you in the least, allow me to see their parents, and arrange all pecuniary matters. you certainly feel no hesitation in confiding this to me." "thank you, dr. bryant, you are very kind; but we will not burden you with an additional trouble. i prefer taking these children home to their parents, who committed them to my care; and as you and florry think it advisable, we will close our school this evening. believe me, however, that in refusing your kind offer, i am not insensible to, but appreciate fully the motives which dictated it." "feel no hesitation in calling on me to perform any of the many services a gentleman friend may so often render. if you knew how gladly i would serve you, i am sure you would not fail to do so." shaking hands with florence who stood near, he turned to go, but paused at the threshold. at this moment a slight disturbance in a distant corner of the room attracted their attention, and springing forward, little maria carlton exclaimed--"oh, miss mary, what do you think? somebody has eat up the world, and bit a great big piece out of the sun!" when the merriment this excited had in some degree subsided, dr. bryant laughingly said--"i am much afraid you have a polyphemus among your pupils. miss mary, do discover the incipient monster and eject him forthwith. heavens, what powers of digestion he must possess! good morning, ladies--good morning." and with a bow he left the house. "florry, dear, do try and sleep some; i will do all that is necessary about the children. true, there is not enough to occupy me long, and meanwhile you must impart the news of this victory to aunt lizzy." chapter xv. "----i might not this believe without the sensible and true avouch of mine own eyes." shakspeare. twilight had fallen slowly, for the evening was heavy and wet, and dark masses of cloud driven by the northern blasts sailed gloomily overhead. nature wore a dreary aspect, and one involuntarily turned inward for amusement. a bright light gleamed from the window of florence hamilton's humble home, and her little dining-room seemed by contrast extremely cheerful; yet the hearts of its inmates were more in accordance with the gloom which reigned without. aunt lizzy, growing somewhat infirm of late, had retired earlier than usual. florence had been sewing all the afternoon, but now lay with closed eyes on the couch, her hands clasped over her head. mary sat near the table holding an open volume, but her thoughts had evidently wandered far away; for her gaze was fixed abstractedly on the fire which blazed and crackled at her feet. the girl's countenance was an interesting study, as she sat rapt in her saddened thoughts. a careworn expression rested upon her face, as though some weighty responsibility too soon had fallen on one so frail. the cheeks were very pale, and now and then across the lips there came a quiver, as though she struggled inwardly, and fain would give no outward show of grief. in truth, an almost spiritual expression had come over her features; the impress of some deep and hidden sorrow, nobly borne, though chasing the rosy hue from her cheeks. sadder grew the look, and some acute pain wrinkled her brow as she threw aside the book, and covered her face with her hands; while a heavy, yet smothered sigh, struggled forth, as if striving to relieve the aching heart. the door opened noiselessly, and a dark shrouded form glided with soft steps to the chair, and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. mary raised her head, and starting up, gazed inquiringly at the muffled face, while the intruder pointed to the motionless form of florence, and laid a finger on her lip. then beckoning mary to follow, she receded, with stealthy tread, to the door, which was softly closed, and walked hurriedly on till she reached a large rose-tree, which shaded the window. mary shivered as the piercing wind swept over her, and strove in vain to suppress a fit of coughing. there was a moment's silence. "you did not know me?" mary started. "i did not, till you spoke; but, inez, what brings you out on such a night?" inez took off the mantilla which had so effectually concealed her features, and threw it round the frail, drooping form before her. "no, no, inez, you will take cold;" and mary tendered it back. it was tossed off contemptuously, and mingled with a bitter laugh came the reply--"i am not cold, mariñita, nor ever shall be but once again. i am burning with an inward fire that will not be quenched" "you are ill, inez, and want some medicine; tell me where and how you suffer?" "no, no. i want nothing from you or yours: i come to help, not to ask. mary, why is it you have made me love you so, when i hate yonder dark-eyed girl? but i am losing time. i come to warn you of danger, and even now i am watched; but no matter, listen to what i have to say. the padre hates you, even as--as i hate him, and has sworn your ruin. i tell you now you must fly from san antonio, and fly quickly, for danger is at hand. my countrymen are many here, and he is stronger than all. you and i have thwarted him, and the walls of a far off convent are our destination--you, and your cousin, and myself. i am at heart no catholic; i have seen the devil, if there be one, in my confessor. i have heard him lie, and seen him take the widow's and the orphan's portion. mary, if there was a god, would he suffer such as my padre to minister in his holy place, and touch the consecrated vessels? no, no; there is none, or he would be cut off from the face of the earth." "inez! inez! stop and hear me." "no, no! time waits for none, and i have little more to say, mary, you are deceived; your cousin is not what you think. she is a catholic; for mine own eyes have seen her in the confessional, and mine own ears have listened to her aves and paters." mary uttered a deep groan, and clasped inez's arm, murmuring--"you are--you must be delirious or mad: florry deceive me! impossible!" "ah! poor deluded mary: do you trust any on earth? yet i would trust you, with your white face and soft blue eyes; and there is one other i would trust--but no more. you will not believe that florence has turned from the faith of her fathers? go to her as she sleeps yonder, and feel with your own hand the crucifix around her neck. ha! you hold tight to my arm: i tell you your cousin florence is as black-hearted as the padre, for he told me she had promised her dying father to follow his advice in all things, yet she tells you not of this: and again, has she not won the love of a good, a noble man, and does she not scorn his love; else why is his cheek pale, and his proud step slow? mariñita, i have read you long ago. you love your doctor, but he loves that florence, whose heart is black and cold as this night you are moaning in your agony; but all must suffer. i have suffered more than you; i shall always suffer. my stream of bitterness is inexhaustible; daily i am forced to quaff the black, burning waters. ha! i know my lot--i swallow and murmur not. mary, i am sorry to make you drink so much that is bitter to-night; but you must, for your own good; better a friend should hold the cup and let you taste, than have it rudely forced upon you." "why have you told me this, inez? i never did you harm, or gave you pain." "poor pale face! i want to save you from worse than death--yea, from a living death. go from this place; for if you are here a month hence, you will be lost. your people here will be defeated, and then the mexicans will hand you all over to the padre, who says he means to put you where you will be protected. mark me: you will be sent where no cry for succor will ever be heard. you will be imprisoned for life, where none can come back to tell the tale. mary, go to your friends in the states; or if you cannot get there, go where your people are many, and take your doctor with you, for blood will yet run down these streets, and i would not that his swelled the stream. he has promised to watch over you; tell him to take you from here--from this cursed place. i have crept from home this dark night to tell you of your danger; i am watched, for the padre suspects me, but you were always good; you nursed me and my dying mother, and were kind to mañuel, and i would risk more than i have to help you. i have done all i can; i charge you, wait not till the last moment." inez stretched out her hand for her mantilla, which she folded closely about her face, and then clasped mary's hand in hers. "inez! oh, inez!" "well, mariñita, i may not linger here. i will see you again if i can; but if we meet no more, forget not inez de garcia, or the love she bears you; and as the greatest blessing now for you, i hope you may soon find peace in the quiet grave. i shall never find rest till i sleep that last, unbroken sleep!" "inez, my heart is wrung by what i have heard to-night; but i beg of you, as a last favor, do not, oh, do not turn away from god! inez, there is a god; and death is not an everlasting sleep. hereafter is an awful tribunal; and if not again on earth, you and i shall assuredly meet before god. oh i believe that he will yet bless you; that he will enable you to bear all earthly trials; and, if faithful, he will receive you at last into the kingdom of eternal rest. try to forget the past, and in this book you will find the path of duty so clearly marked out, that you cannot mistake it. 'tis all i have about me, yet i pray god it may be the greatest treasure you possess." she drew a small bible from her pocket as she spoke, and pressed it within inez's fingers, adding--"i cannot sufficiently thank you for your kindness in warning me of my danger; i shall leave this place as soon as possible, and shall constantly pray that you may be spared and blessed." she held out her hands. inez clasped them tightly for a moment, and then glided down the walk as noiselessly as she came. chapter xvi. be sure that you teach nothing to the people but what is certainly to be found in scripture." bishop taylor. mary irving sought her chamber, and sinking on her knees, fervently implored the blessing and guidance of him who is very precious help in time of need. she prayed for strength to meet with christian fortitude the trials which awaited her, and in all the vicissitudes of her checkered life to pursue unfalteringly the path of duty. she strove to collect her scattered thoughts, and with what composure she could assume, returned to the dining-room. the fire was burning low on the hearth, and the single candle gave but a faint, unsteady light. florence was slowly pacing up and down the floor; she raised her head as mary entered, then sunk it wearily on her bosom, and resumed her walk. "florry, come sit here by me--i want to consult you." "is it very important, mary? i feel to-night as though i could comprehend nothing; let me wear off this dull pain in my heart and head by walking, if possible." "my dear florry, it is important; and therefore you will forgive me if i claim your attention." florence seated herself, and as she did so, leaned her head on mary's shoulder, while the latter wound her arm fondly about her, and gently stroked back the raven hair from her aching brow. "since we broke up our school, i have been warned that we are in danger, and advised to leave san antonio as speedily as possible; for strife is evidently at hand, and a battleground is no place for those so unprotected as you and i." "dr. bryant has promised to watch over us: and surely you have implicit confidence in both his judgment and honor. what do you fear, mary?" "everything. we may remain here too long--till escape will be impossible; and then who may predict with any degree of certainty the chances of war? that dr. bryant will do all that a friend or brother would, i doubt not; but he may be powerless to help when danger assails; and even if he should not, to travel from here in stormy times would not be so easy as you imagine." "who has been filling your head with such ideas? it could be none other than that dark-browed inez." "if she has, could aught but disinterested friendship actuate her to such a course?" "really, mary, i should not have given you credit for so much credulity. do you place any confidence in what that girl may tell you?" "i do rely on what she confides to me. has she ever given you cause to doubt her sincerity? indeed, florry, you do her injustice. i would willingly--god only knows how willingly--doubt some portions of what i have heard from her lips, but i dare not." "mary, can you not perceive that she is jealous of us, and hopes, by operating on your fears, to drive us from this place? the padre hinted as much to me not long since." "florry, it is for you to say whether inez speaks truth. from her lips i had the words--your cousin florence is a papist, wears a crucifix about her neck, and kneels in the confessional. oh, florry! will you--can you--do you deny the charge?" the cousins stood up, and each gazed full upon the other. mary's face was colorless as marble, and her hands were tightly clasped as she bent forward with a longing, searching, eager look. a crimson glow rushed to florence's very temples; then receded, leaving an ashy paleness. "i am a member of the church of rome." mary groaned and sank back into her chair, at this confirmation of her fears. florence leaned against the chimney, and continued in a low, but clear voice--"i have little to say in defense of what you may consider a deception. i deny the right of any on earth to question my motives of actions; yet i would not that you, mary, who have loved me so long and truly, should be alienated, without hearing the reasons which i have to allege in favor of my conduct. mary, think well when i ask you what prospect of happiness there was for me a month since? alone in the wide world, with ruined hopes, and a long, long, joyless future stretching gloomily before me. i was weary of life. i longed for death, not as a passport to the joys of heaven (for i had never sought or deserved them), but as bringing rest, peace, and oblivion of the past i viewed it only as a long, last, dreamless sleep. mary, i was groping my way in what seemed endless night, when suddenly there came a glimmer of light, faint as the first trembling rays of the evening star, and just pierced the darkness in which i wandered. the padre came to me, and pointed to the long-forgotten god, and bade me seek him who hath said, come unto me all ye who are weary, and i will give you rest. mary, do you wonder that i clasped the hand outstretched to save me, and besought him to lead me to the outraged and insulted god? my eyes were opened, and looking down the long, dark vista of the past. i saw how, worshiping a creature, i built a great barrier between myself and heaven. i saw my danger, and resolved, ere it was too late, to dedicate the remainder of my life to him who gave it. the door of the church was opened, and father mazzolin pointed out the way by which i might be saved. the paths seem flowery, and he tells me the ways are those of pleasantness and peace, and i have resolved to try them. once, and once only, i met him at confession, hoping, by unveiling my sufferings to a man of god, to receive comfort of a higher order than i might otherwise expect. he has granted me absolution for the past, and i doubt not that in future the intercession of the blessed saints in heaven will avail with my offended maker." "florry, my own dear florry! hear me, for none on earth love you as i do. do you not believe the bible--god's written word? has he not said, 'there is _one mediator_ between god and man--the man christ jesus?' has not christ made propitiation for our sin, and assured us there is but one way whereby we may be saved, repentance for our past sins and faith in the sufficiency of his atonement? do you doubt the efficacy of christ's suffering and death? tell me, florry, by what authority you invoke your saints? surely you do so in opposition to the express declaration of the bible already quoted--'there is _one mediator_ between god and man.'" "the holy fathers of our church have been in the habit of praying for the intercession of saints from the earliest periods, and none have questioned their fervent piety, or doubted the orthodoxy of their faith," replied florence. "in the first place," said mary, "it would be ridiculous in the extreme to advocate all the opinions and tenets advanced by those same fathers. st. augustine doubted the existence of the antipodes; tertullian emphatically pronounced second marriages adultery; origen denied the sin of david in causing the death of uriah, and has often been accused of favoring arianism, and the doctrine of transmigration of soul; while it is a well-known fact, that jerome, to vindicate peter from the charge of dissimulation, actually accused st. paul of lying, and thereby favoring deceit. in the second place, are you quite sure that they were in the habit of invoking saints?" "certainly, mary; for it is undeniable that st. augustine in his meditations calls on the blessed virgin, and all the angels and apostles in heaven, to intercede with god in his behalf. father mazzolin pointed out the passage no later than last week, to remove the doubts which i confess i entertained, as to whether it was proper and in accordance with the practise of the fathers to implore such intercession." "and does your conviction rest on so frail a basis? hear what the rev. dr. milner says on this subject, in the first volume of his ecclesiastical history;" and taking it from the shelf, mary read: 'the book of meditations, though more known to english readers than any other of the works ascribed to augustine, on account of the translation of it into our language by stanhope, seems not to be his, both on account of its style, which is sententious, concise, abrupt, and void of any of those classical elegancies which now and then appear in our author's genuine writings; and also, on account of the prayers to deceased saints which it contains. this last circumstance peculiarly marks it to have been of a later date than the age of augustine. frauds of this, kind were commonly practised on the works of the fathers in the monastic times.' "and why, florry, does it peculiarly mark it as spurious? because, had he entertained these views on so vital a point, the expression of them would most certainly have occurred in his other very voluminous works. i have searched his confessions for instances of this invocation, either from himself or anxious mother, and had he believed, as the catholic prelates assert, in this intercession of the dead, it would most assuredly have been sought in the hour of his suffering and fear, lest he should be given over. but i find none. on the contrary, these two passages occur in his confessions: 'i now sought the way of obtaining strength to enjoy thee, and found it not, till i embraced the mediator between god and man, jesus christ, who is above all, god, blessed forever, calling and saying i am the way, the truth, and the life.' and here, florry, is another extract from the same book still more conclusive--'whom shall i look to as my mediator? shall i go to angels? many have tried this, and have been fond of visions, and have deserved to be the sport of the illusions which they loved. the true mediator, whom in thy secret mercy thou hast shown to the humble, and hast sent that by his example they might also learn humility, the man christ jesus, hath appealed a mediator between mortal sinners and the immortal holy one, that he might justify the ungodly, and deliver them from death.' yet in your manuals you are directed to say 'mother of god command thy son;' and one of your prayers, florry, is as follows: 'hail, holy queen! mother of mercy--our life, our sweetness, and our hope! to thee do we cry, poor banished sons of eve, to thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in the valley of tears. turn thee, most gracious advocate, thy eyes of mercy toward us.' and at vespers you say, 'hail, mary! queen of heavenly spheres, hail! whom the angelic host reveres!' florry, in all candor, let us investigate this subject; we will consult both the bible and the fathers, or, if you prefer it, by the words of the latter only we will decide; for truth we are searching." "mary, let me read a second time those passages from st. augustine. strange i should have been so deceived," she continued, as, having perused them, she returned the book to her cousin. "florry, can you perceive any encouragement there given to the practise of invocation? does not st. augustine expressly denounce it?" "there can be no doubt of his sentiments on this point; but, mary, this is only one decision, when i have been assured that the united voices of many fathers established it without a doubt, even supposing there was no authority in holy writ for such a custom--which, however, we have, for did not jacob wrestle with an angel and did not his blessing descend upon him?" "but christ had not then died; neither had the christian dispensation succeeded to the old jewish rites and customs. if you will turn to jeremiah, you will also read how the curse of god was pronounced against the idolaters who offered incense to the queen of heaven: yet you do the same. still, by the tradition of the elders, we will judge. hear the words of paulinus on this subject--'paul is not a mediator; he is an ambassador for christ. john intercedes not, but declares that this mediator is the propitiation for our sin. the son of almighty god, because he redeemed us with the price of his blood, is justly called the true redeemer,' again, the great and good ambrose--'we follow thee, lord jesus, but draw us up that we may follow. no one rises without thee. let us seek him, and embrace his feet, and worship him, that he may say to us, fear not. i am the remission of sin, i am the light, i am the life. he that cometh to me shall not see death; because he is the fulness of divinity.' one more, florry--'come to yourselves again, ye wretched transgressors! return ye blind to your light! shall we not believe god, when he swears that neither noah, nor daniel, or job, shall deliver one son or daughter by their righteousness. for this end he makes the declaration, that none might put confidence in the intercession of saints. ye fools! who run to rome to seek there for the intercession of an apostle. when will ye be wise? what would st. augustine say of you, whom ye have so often quoted?' such, florry, are the words of the celebrated claud of turin; but as he is regarded by your church somewhat as a reformer, i will just read one passage from anselm, whose orthodoxy no papist ever questioned. speaking of the intercession of christ--'if the people sin a thousand times, they need no other saviour; because this suffices for all things, and cleanses from all sin.' florry, we have jointly admired the character of one of the earliest martyrs, st. cyprian. will you hear him on this subject?--'christ, if it be possible, let us all follow. let us be baptized in his name. he opens to us the way of life. he brings us back to paradise. he leads us to the heavenly kingdom. redeemed by his blood, we shall be the blessed of god the father,' yet you say in your prayers, 'we fly to thy patronage, oh! holy mother of god!' and again-- 'hail sacred gate.' florence, you have cited the fathers: by their own words are you not convinced as to intercession?" "mary, i was asking myself if vital christianity could exist in any church which allows such a system of deceit on the part of its clergy: for deceived i assuredly have been." "you should remember, florry, that the promulgation of papal doctrines, and the aggrandizement of the romish church, is the only aim of its priesthood; consequently, all means which conduce to this great object are unscrupulously employed. even crime is sanctioned where the good of the church can be promoted." "surely, mary, you cannot mean what you say? crime sanctioned by the romish clergy! impossible! how dare you make such an assertion!" "it doubtless strikes you, florry, as strangely uncharitable and unchristian; yet, if you will consult the records of the past, i venture to say you will think very differently. what memorable event occurred on one of your saints' days--the th of august, ? at dead of night the signal was given, and the papal ministers of france perpetrated the foulest deed that stains the page of history. thirty thousand huguenots were butchered in their beds. and what distinguished the murderer from the doomed victim? a white cross on the hat of the former. how did imperial rome receive the tidings of this massacre? the cannons were discharged, the pope ordered a jubilee and grand procession, and caused a _te deum_ to be chanted. i ask you, florry, was not this sanctioning crime? again, how died the great henry iv? the celebrated edict of nantes sealed his doom, and the infamous ravaillac, for the good of the romish church, conveniently forgot the commandment of jehovah, and meritoriously assassinated him. florry, i have myself heard a papist say, 'that whatever her priest commanded, she would unhesitatingly perform.' shocked at the broad assertion, i replied: 'you surely do not know what you are saying. obey the priest in all things! why, you would not commit murder at his command?' 'certainly i would, if my priest bid me; for if i obey him, i cannot do wrong.' i know this to be true; and i ask you what is the inference? you admit that you have been deceived. pious frauds were committed in the time of ambrose and chrysostom; yet hear what st. augustine says: 'lying is the saying of one thing, and thinking of another;' and in all cases, even for most pious purposes, he excludes lying as unchristian and anti-scriptural." florence was leaning with clasped hands on the table gazing intently at her cousin; while mary knelt on the other side, her hand resting on the large family bible. the light fell full on her pale face as she knelt; her chestnut curls half veiling the pure white cheek, and the dark-blue eyes, earnest, and yet almost angelic, in their gentle, loving expression. "oh, florry! need i implore you in future to look to christ alone as the author of our salvation?" "one more question, mary. is there not a passage in revelations substantiating the doctrine of intercession? father mazzolin assured me the testimony was conclusive in favor of that practise." "the passages to which you allude are these: 'and another angel came and stood at the altar, having a golden censor; and there was given unto him much incense, that he should offer it, with the prayers of all saints, upon the golden altar which was before the throne. and the smoke of the incense which came with the prayers of the saints, ascended up before god out of the angel's hand.' no word of intercession occurs here; and are we not as free to suppose that the prayers so offered were in their own behalf as that of their friends? had it been as the padre tells you, would not st. john have said intercession or prayers in behalf of others?" "mary, can you have mistaken the passage? this cannot be his boasted testimony." "i know that these two verses are highly prized by papists, as establishing the doctrine in question; yet i cannot see them in that light--can you?" "no, no; and if these are the strongest arguments they can adduce in the defense of invocation, i reject it as a remnant of the dark ages, during which period it certainly crept into the church." "if you do this, florry, you cause the whole fabric to totter, for on this doctrine, as a foundation, rests the arch, of which confession is the keystone." "'confess ye your sins, one to another,' is very strong in our favor, mary?" "florry, we are searching for truth, and let us in all humility and candor investigate this particularly important point. it seems to me that st. james's meaning is this--when we have offended or harmed our fellow-men or brethren, we should make all the amends in our power; confess our faults unto them; implore their pardon, and abstain from offensive conduct in future. do you not think that if he had intended us to interpret it differently, he would have said--'confess your faults unto your priest, and he will give you absolution.' setting aside all bias, do you not think this reasonable; the more so, when we call to mind those words of our saviour in his sermon on the mount: 'therefore, if thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath aught against thee, leave there thy gift before the altar, and go thy way; first be reconciled to thy brother, and then come and offer thy gift.' if our lord had intended the ordinance of confession, would he not have said on this occasion, 'first confess thy sins unto thy priest, and when he has absolved thee, then come with clean hands and offer thy gift.' mark the difference, and ask your own heart if there is any encouragement here for confessing to your padre?" "if this passage of james were all we could adduce in favor of confession, i should think with you, mary; yet it is not so. when about to dismiss his apostles on their errands of mercy, christ said to them--'peace be with you; as my father hath sent me, even so i send you;' and when he had breathed upon them, he said unto them--'receive ye the holy ghost; whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them, and whosesoever sins ye retain, they are retained.' now, mary, do you not plainly perceive that the power of forgiving sin was conferred upon the apostles?" "most assuredly i do; and avow my belief that they were enabled to forgive sin, and at the same time other miraculous powers were conferred on the 'twelve.' 'then he called his twelve disciples together, and gave them power and authority over all devils, and to cure diseases.' we know that they cast out devils, restored the blind, and raised the dead. power to forgive sin was one among many wonderful gifts conferred upon them. yet you do not believe that the power of raising the dead was transmitted to posterity. how, then, can you say the gift of absolution was?" "but, mary, christ says in another place--'thou art peter: and upon this rock i will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. and i will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.'" "i perfectly agree with you, florry, in believing that st. peter had miraculous powers bestowed on him by our saviour; but it seems absurd to suppose that these powers were perpetuated in the ministers of the roman catholic church. our saviour said, what 'peter loosed, should be loosed in heaven,' and not what peter's successors loosed should be observed and loosed in heaven. we should not judge of christ's views by isolated passages, but rather from all his teachings; for if we did, what would you say to the verse just below those already quoted, 'and he said unto peter, get thee behind me, satan: thou art an offense unto me: for thou savorest not the things which be of god, but those that be of men.' but this is wandering from the subject. in st. augustine's confessions, though i admit somewhat abridged, i find nothing relating to confessing to priests. this passage alone appears: 'o lord, thou knowest!--have i not confessed my sins to thee? and hast thou not pardoned the iniquity of my heart?' speaking of a sudden illness during his boyhood, he says he eagerly desired baptism, fearing to die, and his mother was about to comply with his request, when he quickly recovered. now, had he considered confession necessary, would he not have urged it upon all who read his confessions, which you will mark, florry, were not made to a priest, but obviously to god himself," there followed a long pause, while florence dropped her face in her hands and sighed heavily. "florry, it is very late; our candle has burnt low--see, it is flickering in the socket; we have not heeded the lapse of time." she rose and replaced the books she had been consulting. "mary, mary! why have you shaken my faith? i had thought to find comfort in future, but you have torn my hope from me, and peace flies with the foundations which you have removed!" "florry, you have been blinded, deceived. they have cried unto you, peace! peace! when there was no peace. but oh! there is a source of rest, and strength, and comfort, which is to be attained not by confession, or the intercession of the dead or living, but by repentance for the past, and an active, trusting faith in the mediation of our blessed lord jesus christ" chapter xvii. "the purple clouds are putting on their gold and violet, to look the meeter for the sun's bright coming. how hallowed is the hour of morning! meet-- ay! beautifully meet--for the pure prayer." willis. morn broke in the east; or, in the beautiful language of the son of fingal, "sol's yellow hair streamed on the eastern gale." awakened by the first chirping of the feathered tribe, florence rose as the gray morning light stole into her chamber, and seating herself at the window, looked out on the town before her. quiet reigned as yet, broken only by the murmuring and gurgling of the river, which roiled swiftly on, just below their little gate. how delightful to her seemed "the cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour to meditation due." calmly she now weighed the conversation of the preceding night, and, engrossed in earnest thought, sat gazing out till the orient shone resplendent, and an october sun poured his rays gloriously around her. then she knelt, and prayed as she had never done before. she sought the "pure fountain of light," and implored strength and guidance in her search after truth. rising, her glance fell on her sleeping cousin, and she was struck with the change which within the last month had taken place in her appearance. approaching the bed, she lifted the masses of chestnut hair that clung to the damp brow. as she looked on the pure, pale face, there came a gush of tenderness into her soul, and bending, she imprinted a long, warm kiss. mary stirred, and opened her eyes. "ah, florry, you are up earlier than usual." she closed them again, murmuring slowly, "i feel as though i had no strength remaining; i can scarcely lift my head." "sleep, mary, if you can. i will shut out the light, and call you again after a while." "no, florry, i must not give way to such feelings; indeed they are getting quite too common of late; i can't think what makes me so weak and feverish." an hour later, as they stood together at the door of their little dining-room, a body of mexican cavalry dashed furiously past their gate. the cousins looked full at each other. then florence said in a low, calm tone: "you are right, mary; we will go from this place; i feel now that it is for the best." she averted her face; but mary saw an expression of keen agony resting there. "florry, let us consult mrs. carlton. she will advise us what would be best to do in this emergency." "go and see her yourself; i cannot. whatever you decide upon i will agree to. oh! mary, how desolate and unprotected we are." "no, not while there is an almighty one to watch over us. but, florry, i am much troubled about aunt lizzy. i mentioned our wish to leave here, and she opposed it strenuously, on the grounds that the padre had promised his protection. now what are we to do?" "go to mrs. carlton's, mary, and i will convince aunt that it is best we should remove from here immediately. you need apprehend no difficulty on her part. as you return from mrs. carlton's, meet me in the churchyard." "florry, do not go till i come home; or, if you prefer it, let us go there at once." "no, mary, i wish to be there alone." "but i am afraid it is not quite safe for you to venture out so far from home." "i fear nothing: who would harm a daughter beside her father's grave?" mary sighed heavily, but offered no further opposition. her walk to mrs. carlton's was a sad one, for her heart clung to the scenes she had learned to love so well, and the prospect of departure, and the uncertainty of the future, weighed heavily on her heart, and made her step unwontedly slow. she found her friend alone, and much depressed. mrs. carlton clasped her tenderly in her arms, while the tears rolled silently down her cheeks. "i hope nothing has happened to distress you?" said mary, anxiously. "you are the very one i wished to see. mr. carlton said, this morning, that he was unwilling for me to remain here any longer, as our troops are marching to attack the alamo. he says he will take us to washington, and i could not bear the idea of leaving you here." "i have come to consult you on this subject; for some of my mexican friends have advised us to leave san antonio; and not knowing where or how to go, concluded to come and see you. but washington is far, very far from here. how will we ever reach it in these unsettled times?" "mr. carlton and frank have gone to make all necessary preparation for our immediate departure. we will have two tents, and carry such cooking utensils and provisions as are needful for a tedious journey: one wagon is all we hope to obtain for conveying these. i suppose we shall all ride horseback; for you know there is not a carriage in the town. frank does not wish us to leave this place, for he suggested your coming to remain with us till these stormy times were over. but this is not a suitable home for you. surely your cousin and aunt will consent to accompany us?" "yes, i think so; for florry left it entirely with me, and certainly we should go now." "i am very glad to hear you say so, mary; not only upon your own account, but also for frank. he will consider himself bound to accompany you; for he promised your dying uncle to watch over you both with a brother's care, and otherwise he could not be induced to leave san antonio at this crisis. he seems completely rapt in the issue of the contest; and would you believe it, mary, he is anxious to enlist; but my entreaties have as yet prevented him." "dear mrs. carlton, there is no obligation resting on him to go with us. he has been very kind and careful, and though deeply grateful, we could not consent to his leaving against his own inclinations. oh, no! we could not allow this. yet should he remain, what may be the result? oh! mrs. carlton, this is terrible." mary's cheek was very pale, and her lips quivered convulsively, while the small hands, clasped each other tightly. "mary, for my sake, use your influence with him in favor of going to washington. i can't go in peace, and feel that he is here exposed to such imminent danger, for when i am gone, what will restrain him? mary, mary! do not deter him, if he feels it incumbent on him to see you to a place of of safety." "mrs. carlton, you can appreciate the peculiar position in which i am placed. florry and i would shrink from drawing him away, in opposition to his wishes, particularly when there is no danger attendant on our traveling; for with you and mr. carlton we would feel no apprehension; and even if we did, we could not consent to such a sacrifice on his part. yet i sympathize with you, most sincerely, and will willingly do all that in propriety i can to alleviate your sorrow; but knowing his sentiments, how could i advise, or even acquiesce in his going?" "my pure-hearted girl, forgive a request made so thoughtlessly. i had not considered, as i should have done; yet you can appreciate the anxious feelings which dictated it." as she spoke, mrs. carlton clasped her friend to her heart, and wept on her shoulder. no tear dimmed mary's eye; yet that she suffered, none who looked on her pale brow and writhing lips could doubt. as she raised her head to reply, dr. bryant entered, and started visibly on seeing her, mrs. carlton endeavored to regain her composure; and, with a slightly faltering voice, asked how he succeeded in procuring horses? "better than i had hoped," was the rejoinder; and he held out his hand to mary. she gave him hers, now cold as ice. he held it a moment, and pressed it gently, saying: "you see my sister is going to run away on the first intimation of danger. i hope she has not infected you with her fears; though, to judge from your looks, i should almost predict a stampede in another direction." "indeed you are quite right. florry and i are going with her; though we had decided on leaving before we knew she intended doing so." "ah! you did not seem to apprehend any immediate danger when we conversed on this subject a few days since. what has changed your views?" "i have been warned not to risk the dangers attendant on the approaching conflict by a mexican friend, whose attachment i have every reason to believe is sincere; and besides, it needed but little to augment my fears: and florry and i concluded, if practicable, to remove to a place of greater safety." "can you be ready within two days, think you, miss mary? for, if we leave at all, it is advisable that we do so immediately." "oh, yes! i know we can be ready by that time." "let me see--how many additional horses shall we need? yourself, your cousin, and aunt, and myself." mary looked eagerly at mrs. carlton; but she had averted her head; and for a moment a terrible struggle within kept the gentle girl silent. "dr. bryant, i know you do not wish to leave here at this juncture, intensely interested as you are in the event, and i fear you are sacrificing your own wishes for our benefit. let me beg you to consult your inclinations, and do not feel it in the least incumbent on you to attend us, particularly when we are in the kind care of mr. carlton; and you have already done so much toward contributing to our comfort." "thank you for your consideration. nevertheless, i shall not rest satisfied till i place you in safety on the banks of the brazos. one of my greatest pleasures has been to render you service, and you would not abridge them, i hope, by refusing my company on your journey?" mary's eyes were fixed earnestly on his face while he spoke, and though there was no change in his kind, gentle tone, there came an undefinable expression over his noble countenance--an expression in which coldness and sorrow predominated. she could not understand him; yet a shudder crept though her frame, and a sensation of acute pain stole into her heart. she felt as through a barrier had suddenly risen between them, yet could not analyze the cause. "your servants will take all possible care of the house and furniture during your absence, which, i hope, will be but temporary. they will not be molested; and i am afraid we could not conveniently carry two additional persons. what think you of this arrangement?" "i think with you, that under existing circumstances the servants could not well accompany us; and though they will incur no danger, i regret the necessity of leaving them, particularly should they object." "i hope you will find no difficulty in arranging everything to your entire satisfaction, previous to our departure. you and my sister must consult as to all minor points, and i must look to our preparations. my respects to your cousin. i will see you again to-morrow;" and bidding her good morning, he turned away. "oh, such a weight is lifted from my heart!" exclaimed mrs. carlton. "i can now exert myself as i am called on to do." "florry will be waiting for me, and we have much to do at home; so good-by," and mary lifted her pale face for a farewell kiss. mrs. carlton affectionately embraced her, and bidding her "make all speed," they parted. chapter xviii. "'there is a soul just delivered from purgatory!' it was found to be a frog dressed in red flannel." kirwan. florence having succeeded, as she imagined, in convincing her aunt that it was advisable to remove from san antonio, slowly proceeded to the churchyard, little dreaming that the door had scarce closed behind her ere aunt lizzy, with swift steps, directed her way to the house of the padre, he was writing, but gave his attention, and heard, with ill-disguised chagrin, that florence distrusted his promised protection. "does she doubt in matters of faith, think you?" he eagerly inquired. "indeed, padre, i cannot say. all i know is, that she and mary sat till midnight, reading and talking, and she has not seemed like herself since." "where shall i find florence?" said he, taking his hat. "in the churchyard, i think, beside her father's grave." "say nothing to her, but apparently acquiesce in her plans; and, above all, do not let her dream that you have told me these things." ah, florence! who may presume to analyze the anguish of your tortured heart as you throw yourself, in such abandonment of grief, on the tomb of your lost parent? the luxuriant grass, swaying to and fro in the chill october blast, well-nigh concealed the bent and drooping form, as she knelt and laid her head on the cold granite. "my father! oh, my father!" and tears, which she had not shed before, fell fast, and somewhat eased the desolate, aching heart. florence had not wept before in many years; and now that the fountain was unsealed, she strove not to repress the tears which seemed to lift and bear away the heavy weight which had so long crushed her spirits. what a blessing it is to be able to weep; and happy are they who can readily give vent to tears, and thus exhaust their grief! such can never realize the intensity of anguish which other natures suffer--natures to whom this great relief is denied, and who must keep the withering, scorching agony pent up within the secret chambers of their desolate, aching hearts. sobs and tears are not for these. no, no; alone and in darkness they must wrestle with their grief, crush it down into their inmost soul, and with a calm exterior go forth to meet the world. but ah! the flitting, wintry smile, the short, constrained laugh, the pale brow marked with lines of mental anguish, will ofttimes, tell of the smoldering ruin.... "my daughter, god has appointed me in place of the parent he has taken hence; turn to me, and our most holy church, and you will find comfort such as naught else can afford." florence sprung to her feet, and shuddered at the sound of his low, soft voice. the padre marked the shudder, and the uneasy look which accompanied it: "padre, i have confessed, and i have prayed to almost every saint in the calendar, and i have had your prayers in addition to my own; yet i find no comfort. no joy has stolen to my heart, as you promised it inevitably would." "my daughter, if peace has not descended on thy spirit, i fear you have not been devout. tell me truly if you have not doubted in matters of faith, for our most holy mother ever grants the prayers of her faithful and loving children?" "i have searched the bible, and i nowhere find authority for invoking saints or the virgin." "i can convince you, without doubt, that there is such authority--nay, command." "'tis useless, you may save yourself the trouble; for my mind is clearly made up that we have not even the sanction of the fathers." "holy mary, pardon her unbelief, and send down light into her darkened soul!" florence fixed her eyes full upon him, and replied--"christ expressly declares 'i am the light, i am the life.'" "daughter, your heretic cousin has done you a great injury. may god protect you, and forgive her blasphemy." "she needs no forgiveness, for she is pure in heart before god, and truthful in all things." the swarthy cheek of the italian flushed--"florence, you and your aunt must come and stay at my house till it is safe here; and, i doubt not when you are at leisure to hear me, you will duly repent your hasty speeches. i shall pray god and our lady to give you a more trusting, believing heart, and intercede with the blessed saints for your entire conversion." "not so, father mazzolin; we shall leave this place in a very few days, and i have come to bid adieu to the grave of my father: leave me, for i wish to be alone and in peace." "do you doubt my will or ability to protect you, my daughter? beneath my roof no danger can assail." "we have fully decided to go from here, and further reasoning or entreaty would be vain; accept, however, my thanks for your proffered kindness." "girl, you have gone too far! hear me while i am placable, for i tell you now, without my consent, you cannot--shall not leave here." "you have neither right nor power to detain me." "have i not? i swear, if you do not hear and abide by what i say, your father's soul will remain forever in purgatory, where it justly belongs." "how dare you make so miserable a threat?" said the calm, clear voice of mary, who had approached unobserved. "cursed believer in a cursed creed, what do you here? begone, or dread the vengeance i shall surely inflict on so blasphemous and damnable a heretic!" winding her arm tightly about florence's waist, she replied--"'vengeance is mine, saith the lord. i will repay;' and though i have never injured you, padre--even if i had, it ill becomes a consecrated priest to utter such language, or so madly to give vent to passion." "silence!" thundered the padre, livid with rage; "i will compass heaven and earth rather than you shall escape me." "come, florry, this is no place for us now; even the churchyard is not sacred. come home." "florence, dare you curse your own father?" the girl's lips quivered, but no sound came forth--she seemed stunned. "you would usurp the prerogatives of jehovah, father mazzolin; but your threat is vain. you cannot bless or damn my uncle at will. how dare you, guilty as you are, hold such impious language?" for a moment he quailed before the calm, unflinching girl, then seizing florence's arm, hoarsely exclaimed: "one more chance i give you. florence, i am your brother--your father, my father. on his death-bed he confessed his sins and discovered his son." a deep groan burst from florence's lips, and her slender frame quivered like a reed in a wintry blast. the padre laid his head on the granite slab which covered the remains of mr. hamilton, and continued: "i call god in heaven, and all the saints to witness the truth of what i say, and if i prove it not, may i sink into perdition. when your father was yet young, he made the tour of europe. traveling in italy, he met at florence a poor but beautiful girl; and she, struck, in turn, by the handsome face of the stranger, left her humble home, and listened to the voice of seduction. he remained five months at florence, and then suddenly left italy for his native country, without apprising the unfortunate woman of his intentions. hatred succeeded to love, and she vowed vengeance. that woman was my mother; and when ten years had passed, she told me my parentage, and made me swear on the altar of her patron saint that i would fulfil her vow of vengeance. she died, and i became a priest of rome, and in time was sent by my order to mexico, and thence here to assist my aged and infirm predecessor. i had in my possession a miniature of my father, and no sooner had i met him here than i recognized the base being who had deserted my mother. i kept my peace; but ere he died, he confessed that one sin--heavier than everything beside--weighed on his conscience. in the agony and remorse of that hour my mother was revenged. i told my parentage, and he discovered his child. feeling that i was your brother, he bade you remain here, claim my protection, and follow my advice. but, florence, hear me--your misery touched my heart; a kindred feeling for you made me desire to serve you; but i swear now that if you hear not my voice, and return to the bosom of our church, your father's soul shall linger in damnation, and my vengeance shall follow you. you know not my power, and wo to you if you defy me!" had the specter-form of the deceased, leaving the shadowy band of the spirit-world, risen on the granite slab before them the two girls could not have been more startled. tightly they clung one to another, their eyes riveted on the face of the padre. there was a long pause; then florence lifted herself proudly up, and cold and haughty was her tone: "it is not for me to deny your statement. if my father sinned, peace to his memory, and may god forgive him. one so sinful and malignant as yourself cannot be invested with divine prerogatives. i have known your intentions with regard to myself since the hour i knelt in confession. i was destined for a convent, and i tacitly acquiesced in your plans, hoping that so secluded from the world i should be comparatively happy; but my feelings are changed on many points, and any further interference from you will be received with the scorn it merits. no love for me actuates your movements, else you would have spared me the suffering of this hour." "you defy me, then?" florence had turned away, and heeded not his question; but mary, clasping her hands, looked appealingly in his face; "oh, padre, by the tie which you declare exists between yourself and florry--for the sake of your lost parent--do not put your threat in execution. spare an unprotected orphan. you will not harm your sister!" "know you not, girl, that when a jesuit priest takes the oath of his order, he tears his heart from his breast and lays it at the feet of his superior? appeal not to ties of relationship: we repudiate them, and pity is unknown among us." with a shudder mary joined her cousin, and rapidly and in perfect silence they retraced their steps homeward. when they reached their gate, mary would have opened it, but her cousin, taking her hand, led the way to their old seat beside the river. florence seated herself as near the water as possible, and then tightly clasping the hand she held, asked in a voice of suppressed emotion; "tell me, mary, is there a purgatory?" "no, florry; i think there is less foundation for that doctrine than any advanced by your church." "mary, you speak truth, and all that you say i can implicitly believe. tell me what grounds support the theory?" "you remember the words of our saviour. 'all sin shall be forgiven, save blasphemy of the holy ghost; that shall not be forgiven, either in this world or the next.' now papists argue in this way: then other sins can be forgiven in another world; there is no sin in heaven, in hell no forgiveness, consequently, there must exist a middle place, or, in other words, a purgatory. florry, you smile, yet i assure you i have seen this advanced as unanswerable. in the book of maccabees is a very remarkable passage authorizing prayers for the dead, and on this passage they build their theory and sanction their practise. yet you know full well it is one of the apocryphal books rejected by the jews, because not originally written in their language. it was never quoted by our saviour, nor even received as inspired by your own church till the council of trent, when it was admitted to substantiate the doctrine of purgatory, and sanction prayers for the dead. i admit that on this point st. augustine's practise was in favor of it; though it was only near the close of his long life that he speaks of the soul of his mother. yet already history informs us that the practise of praying for the dead was gaining ground in the church, along with image worship. st. cyprian, who lived long before him, and during a purer state of the church, leaves no doubt on our minds as to his sentiments on this subject; his words are these: 'when ye depart hence, there will be no room for repentance--no method of being reconciled to god. here eternal life is either lost or won. here, by the worship of god, and the fruit of faith, provision is made for eternal salvation. and let no man be retarded, either by his sins or years, from coming to obtain it. no repentance is too late while a man remains in this world.' our saviour nowhere gives any encouragement for such a doctrine. on the contrary, he said to the dying thief: 'this day shalt thou be with me in paradise.' i know of no other argument which papists advance in favor of their darling theory, save the practise of the latter fathers of their church." "mary, i cannot believe this doctrine, without further proof of divine sanction." "indeed, florry, i know of no other reason in its favor, and have long supposed it a system of extortion in connection with indulgences, now used, only as a means of gain by the dissolute clergy of the romish faith. i need scarcely say, that the abuse of this latter doctrine drove luther to reformation. it is a well-known fact, that in the th century, tetzel, a dominican monk high in his order, drove through germany in a wagon, containing two boxes--one holding indulgences, the other the money received for them. you will smile, florry, when i repeat a translation of the german lines written on the outside of the latter box: "'when in this chest the money rings, the soul straight up to heaven springs.'" yet the boldness and audacity of his general language was quite in accordance: 'indulgences,' said he, 'are the most precious of god's gifts. i would not exchange my privileges for those of st. peter in heaven; for i have saved more souls with my indulgences than he with all his sermons. there is no sin so great that the indulgence will not remit it. even repentance is not necessary. indulgences save the dead; for the very moment the money chinks against the bottom of this chest, the soul escapes from purgatory, and flies to heaven,' "yet this inquisitor was high in favor with pope leo x. you will say, florry, that the abuse of a doctrine should be no test of its soundness; and i admit that had he received the punishment he so richly merited it would not; yet this is only one instance among many. we have conversed on the doctrines of the romish faith merely as theories, should we not now look at the practise? we need not go very far. when aunt fanny expressed surprise on seeing our mexican shepherd eat meat last friday, did he not reply in extenuation, 'i have paid the priest and can eat meat'? now if it was necessary for him to abstain previously, could the small sum paid to the padre exempt him from the duty? again we see the working of the system: was not herrara scrupulously exact on the same point? yet he rose from the table and told a most positive lie. with regard to indulgences, there is not a papist who will admit that they are a license to sin. the voice of history declares that 'a regular scale for absolution was graded,' and the fact is authenticated by a recent traveler, who asserts that in the chancel of santa croce, at rome, is hung a catalogue of the indulgences granted to all who worship in that church. yet your priests will tell you they are the remission of sins already committed. did not herrara say, 'i have paid the padre and can eat meat'? now i ask you if this is not a license to commit what would otherwise be considered a heinous offense by all devout papists?" "relying implicitly on what the padre asserted, mary, i have never investigated these subjects as i should have done, before giving my credence and support; but of the doctrine in question i can henceforth entertain but one opinion--a detestable and infamous method of filling the papal coffers; for since you have led me to think on this subject, i clearly remember that a large portion of the enormous expense incurred by the building, ornamenting, and repairing of st. peter's, was defrayed by money obtained through the sale of indulgences. oh, mary, how could i have been so deluded--allowed myself to be so deceived!" she took from her pocket the rosary and crucifix which had been given to her father, and threw them impatiently into the river gurgling at her feet. "the perfect harmony with which the entire system works is unparalleled in the civil, religious, or political annals of the world. a complete espionage is exercised in papal countries, from the adriatic to the californian gulf. and the greater portion of this is accomplished by means of the confessional. the superior at rome can become, at pleasure, as perfectly conversant with your domestic arrangements, and the thousand incidents which daily occur, as you or i, who are cognizant of them. to what is all this tending? ah, florry, look at the blood-stained records of the past. the voices of slaughtered thousands, borne to us across the waste of centuries, bid us remember the duke of alva, the albigensian crusade, the massacre of st. bartholomew, and the blazes of smithfield. ignatius loyola! happy would it have been for millions lost, and millions yet to be, hadst thou perished at the siege of pampeluna. florry, contrast italy and germany, spain and scotland, and look at portugal, and south america, and mexico, and oh, look at this benighted town! a fairer spot by nature the face of earth cannot boast; yet mark the sloth, the penury, the degradation of its people, the misery that prevails. and why? because they languish under the iron rule of the papal see--iron, because it admits of no modification. entire supremacy over both body and soul, or total annihilation of their power. may the time speedily come when they shall spurn their oppressors, and trample their yoke in the dust, as their transatlantic brethren will ultimately do. oh, florry, does not your heart yearn toward benighted italy? italy, once so beautiful and noble--once the acknowledged mistress of the world, as she sat in royal magnificence enthroned on her seven hills; now a miserable waste, divided between petty sovereigns, and a by-word for guilt and degradation! the glorious image lies a ruin at our feet: for the spirit that gave beauty and strength, and shed a halo of splendor round its immortal name, has fled afar, perhaps forever; banished by the perfidious system of papacy--that sworn foe to liberty, ecclesiastical or political. "how incomprehensible the apathy with which the english regard the promulgation of puseyism in their church! it is stealing silently but swiftly to the very heart of their ecclesiastical institutions, and total subversion will ultimately ensue. that americans should contemplate without apprehension the gradual increase of papal power is not so astonishing, for this happy land has never groaned beneath its iron sway. but that the descendants of latimer and of ridley, of hooper and of cranmer, should tamely view the encroachments of this monster hydra, is strange indeed. do not imagine, florry, that i doubt the sincerity of all who belong to the church of rome. i know and believe that there are many earnest and conscientious members--of this there cannot be a doubt; yet it is equally true, that the most devoted papists are to be found among the most ignorant, bigoted, and superstitious of men. the masses of your church are deceived with pretended miracles and wondrous legends, such as the one currently reported respecting the holy house of loretto, which seems so migratory, and flies hundreds of miles in a night. these marvelous tales are credited by the uneducated; yet no enlightened man or woman of the present age, who has fully investigated this subject, can say with truth that they conscientiously believe the doctrines of the romish church to be those taught by our saviour, or its practises in accordance with the general tenor of the bible. this may seem a broad assertion, yet none who calmly consider the subject in all its bearings, and consult the page of history, will pronounce it a hasty one." "yet remember, mary, that the sect in question is proverbial for charitable institutions. one vital principle is preserved. surely this is a redeeming virtue. catholics are untiring in schemes of benevolence and philanthropy." "you will start, and perhaps condemn me, when i reply, that their boasted charity is but the mask behind which they disseminate the doctrines of the romish church. i may appear very uncharitable in the expression of this opinion; yet hear me, florry; facts are incontrovertible. if you will think a moment, you cannot fail to remember patrick, the porter at our friend mrs. d----'s. having received a dangerous wound in his foot, he was sent to the hospital, where several of the nurses were sisters of charity. he remained nearly a month, and on his return related to mrs. d----, in my presence, some of the circumstances of his long illness. his words made a lasting impression on my mind: "'indeed, and i am glad enough to come home, ma'am; for never was i treated worse in my life. the first week sister agnes, who nursed in my room, was kind and tender as could be, and thought i, if ever angels come to earth, this good woman is one; but i can tell ye i did not think so long: she read some saints' lives to us, and asked me if i was a catholic. i said no, i was no catholic. then she tried every way to make me one, and told me if i refused i would surely die and go to purgatory. faith! the more she talked that way the more i wouldn't be a catholic; and then she just let me alone, and not another thing would she do for me. i might call from then till now, and never a step would she come, or nurse me a bit. it is no good care of hers that has brought me back alive and well: i tell you, sister agnes won't do for any but catholics.' "florry, is such charity akin to that taught by the bible? catholics boast of their asylums; and by means of fairs and suppers, large amounts are annually collected for the support of these numerous institutions. i have been told by a directress of a protestant orphan asylum, that on one occasion a squalid woman, accompanied by two boys, presented herself and entreated that her children might be received into the asylum. the unhappy mother informed the directress that she was a roman catholic, and had claimed the protection of her own sect; but, said she, tearfully, 'indeed i had no money to pay for their entrance, and they refused to take my children.' "such, florry, is their boasted charity; and i might add, their lives are little in accordance with the spirit inculcated by our saviour, who said, 'when ye do your alms, let not your left hand know what your right hand doeth.' there are thousands who daily dispense charities of various kinds; yet they do not term themselves sisters of charity; neither promenade the streets in a garb so antiquated and peculiar as to excite attention, or elicit encomiums on their marvelously holy lives and charitable deeds. do not suppose, florry, because i speak thus, that i doubt the sincerity of all who enroll themselves as sisters. i do believe that there are many pious and conscientious women thus engaged; yet they are but tools of the priests, and by them placed in these institutions for the purpose of making proselytes." a pause ensued, and florence paced slowly along the bank. somewhat abruptly she replied: "yet you will admit, mary, that we owe much to the monks, by whose efforts light and knowledge were preserved during the dark ages? but for them every vestige of literature, every record of the past, would inevitably have been lost." "tell me, florry, what caused the dark ages? was it not the gradual withdrawal of light and knowledge--the crushing, withering influence exerted on the minds of men? and tell me if this influence was not wielded by the priests of rome--corrupted, fallen rome? during the dark period in question, papal power was at its height; the thunders of the vatican were echoed from the adriatic to the atlantic--from the mediterranean to the north sea. an interdict of its profligate pope clothed cities, and kingdoms, and empires in mourning; the churches were closed, the dead unburied, and no rite, save that of baptism, performed. ignorance and superstition reigned throughout the world; and it is said, that in the ninth century scarce a person was to be found in rome itself who knew even the alphabet. yet monasteries crowned every eminence, and dotted the vales of southern europe. the power of the priesthood was supreme. florry, i do admit that what remained of light and learning was hid in the cell of the anchorite; not disseminated, but effectually concealed. they forgot our saviour's injunction--'let your light shine before men.' oh! florry, did not the teachers of the dark ages put their light under a bushel? dark ages will ever follow the increase of papal power. it is part of their system to keep the masses in ignorance. how truly it has been said that rome asked but one thing, and that luther denied her--'a fulcrum of ignorance on which to rest that lever by which she can balance the world.' they dare not allow their people light and knowledge; and what to others was indeed a dark age, is regarded by the priests of rome as a golden season. can you point to a single papal country which is not enveloped in the black cloud of superstition and crime? to italy, and spain, and portugal, the dark ages have not passed away; neither will they, till liberty of conscience is allowed, and the bible permitted in the hands of the laity. under papal rule, those unfortunate nations will never rise from their degradation; for their masters and teachers 'love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil.' it has often been said by those who fail properly to consider this subject, that the roman catholic schools and colleges which abound in the united states are far superior to similar protestant institutions. why do not these very superior teachers disseminate knowledge at home? why do they not first enlighten the spaniards ere they cross the atlantic to instruct american pupils? the ignorance of neapolitans is proverbial; yet naples is the peculiarly favored city of romanism. tell me why these learned professors do not teach their own people? florry, papal institutions in america are but branches of the propaganda. they but come to proselyte. i have heard it repeatedly averred of a certain nunnery, 'that no efforts were made to affect the religious views of the pupils.' yet i know that such is not the case. they are far too politic openly to attack the religion; yet secretly it is undermined. i will tell you how, florry, for you look wonderingly at me. prizes are awarded for diligence, and application; and these prizes are books, setting forth in winning language the doctrines of their church. i have seen one of these which was given to m---- k----, and i also read it most carefully. it was titled 'alethea; or, a defense of catholic doctrines.' yet most indignantly they deny any attempts toward proselyting the pupils intrusted to their care." "who will deny the truth of your statements, mary! yet, if such are the facts, how can the world be so utterly ignorant of, or indifferent to them? strange that they can thus regard a subject so fraught with interest to every lover of liberty--to every patriot." "florry, papists are unacquainted with these things; for, begirt with darkening, crushing influence, they are effectually secluded from even a wandering ray of light on this subject. the avenue through which all information is conveyed at the present day is barred to them. books are denied to the catholic laity. you may ask how this is effected in this enlightened and liberal age. the prelates of rome, who long ago resorted to ignorance as their bulwark, are ever on the alert. no sooner is a new publication announced, than it is most carefully perused by them; and if calculated to point out the fallacy of their doctrines, or depict their abuse of power, a papal bull is forthwith issued, prohibiting all catholics from reading the heretical book. the writings of the prince of novelists, walter scott, which are universally read by other sects, are peremptorily refused to all papists. and why? because many of his darts are aimed at their profligate priesthood. now if, as they tell their people, these are but slanderous attacks on their religion, surely the shafts would fall harmless on the armor of truth. why then so strenuously oppose their reading such works? florry, the trite adage, 'truth is the hardest of all to bear,' is applicable to these prelates of papacy; who, knowing their danger, are fully resolved to guard the avenues of light and knowledge. the pope of imperial rome, surrounded as he is with luxury, magnificence, and hosts of scarlet-liveried cardinals, who stand in readiness to convey his mandates to the remotest corners of the earth, has been made to tremble on his throne by the pen of feeble woman. the truthful delineations of charlotte elizabeth startled his holiness of the vatican, and the assistant conclave of learned cardinals are trembling lest their laity of the green isle should catch a glimpse of light. a bull was quickly fulminated against her heretical productions. alas! when, when will the romish church burst the iron bands which begirt her? "the world at large--i mean the world as composed of protestants, latitudinarians, politicians, statesmen, and fashionable dunces, are in a great measure acquainted with these facts; but knowing the rapidly increasing power of papal rome, and the vast influence already wielded in this happy land by its priesthood, they prefer to float along with the tide, rather than vigorously resist this blasting system of ignorance, superstition, and crime which, stealthily approaching from the east and from the west, will unite and crush the liberties of our glorious republic. as patriots, they are called on to oppose strenuously its every encroachment--yet they dare not; for should they venture to declaim against its errors, they endanger their popularity and incur the risk of defeat at an ensuing election. florry, i was once conversing on this subject with a lady who had recently visited europe, and inquired of her if she had not marked the evils and abuses which existed in the papal dominions through which she traveled. she whisperingly replied--'certainly, my dear, i could not fail to mark the ignorance and degradation which prevailed, but i never speak of it, because, you know, it makes one very unpopular,' here, florry, you have the clew to the mystery. americans quietly contemplate this momentous subject, and silently view the abuses which are creeping into our communities, because if they expose them, it is at the hazard of becoming unpopular," "mary, can i ever, ever forget that hour in the churchyard?" florence sadly said, as they rose and proceeded to the house. "oh! it seems branded on my brain; yet i must cast this new grief from me, for enough of anguish was mine before. still i feel that there is a path just ahead, and it seems lighted up. but a slight barrier intervenes, and when that is passed all will be well. pray for me, mary, that i may be enabled to lead the life of a christian, and at last die the death of the righteous." clasping tightly the hand which rested in her own, mary replied: "while life remains, it shall indeed be my prayer that you may be blessed on earth, and rewarded in heaven. oh, florry, i thank god that the scales have fallen from your eyes, and that truth shines brightly before you." she stopped suddenly, and pressed her hand to her side, while the pale brow wrinkled with pain. "i have been talking too much, there is a suffocating sensation here." "it is only momentary, i hope." mary shook her head, and smiled sadly: "i don't know, florry; i have felt strangely of late." that evening as the household were busily preparing for their intended departure, dr. bryant abruptly entered, and informed them, with a clouded brow, that removal was impossible, as he could not procure a pair of horses for any price. "it is perfectly unaccountable what has possessed the mexican from whom i purchased as many as i thought necessary. we agreed as to price, and they were to be sent this afternoon; but about two hours ago, he came to me, and declared that he had changed his mind, and would not part with them. i offered double the original amount, but he said money was no inducement. i strove to borrow or hire for any given time, but every proposal was peremptorily declined, and as it is impossible to leave here, i came over to entreat you to remain with my sister, at least for a few days, till we can determine what is advisable to do." his proposal was accepted, and the ensuing day saw them inmates of mrs. carlton's. chapter xix. "we're the sons of sires that baffled crowned and mitered tyranny: they defied the field and scaffold for their birth-rights--so will we!" campbell. the issue of the engagement of the th october placed goliad, with valuable munitions, in the hands of the texans. many and joyous acclamations rose from their camp, hope beamed on every face, and sanguine expectations were entertained of a speedy termination of the conflict. slowly the little band proceeded toward bexar, receiving daily accessions from headquarters, and girding themselves for a desperate struggle. general cos, fully appreciating the importance of the post he held, made active preparation for its defense, never doubting, however, that the strong fortifications of the alamo would prove impregnable to assailants so feeble numerically. under the direction of the cautious spaniard, the town already assumed a beleaguered aspect, and in addition to the watchman stationed on the observatory of the fortress, a sentinel paced to and fro on the flat roof of the gray old church, having orders to give instant alarm in case of danger by the ringing of the several bells. silver-haired men, bending beneath the weight of years, alone passed along the deserted streets, and augured of the future in the now silent plaza. the stores were closed, and anxiously the few americans awaited the result; rising at dawn with the belief that ere twilight closed again their suspense would be terminated. on the morning of the th the booming of distant artillery was borne on the southern breeze. with throbbing hearts the inhabitants gathered about their doors, and strained their eyes toward the south. a large body of mexicans, availing themselves of the cover of night, sallied from the alamo, hoping to cut off a squad of ninety-two men, who, leaving the main body of the texan army, had advanced for the purpose of reconnoitering, and were posted at the old mission of conception, some two miles below the town; and here the contest was waged. the watchman on the church listened intently as each report reached his ear, and kept his fingers firmly on the bell-rope. an hour passed on, and the sun rode high in heaven; gradually the thundering died away. quicker grew the breathing, and tighter the cold fingers clasped each other. the last sound ceased: a deathlike silence reigned throughout the town, and many a cheek grew colorless as marble. there came a confused sound of shouts--the mingling of many voices--the distant tramp of cavalry; and then there fell on the aching ears the deep, thrilling tones of the church bells. an intervening bend in the river was quickly passed, and a body of mexican cavalry dashed at full gallop across the plain, nor slackened their pace till secure behind the somber walls of the alamo. at intervals of every few moments, small squads pushed in, then a running band of infantry, and lastly a solitary horseman, reeling in his saddle, dripping with gore. madly his wounded horse sprung on, when just as the fort was gained, his luckless rider rolled senseless at the entrance. one deep groan was echoed from church to fortress. victory, which had hovered doubtful o'er the bloody field, settled at last on the banner of the "lone star." against what fearful odds is victory ofttimes won! the intrepid texans, assaulted by forces which trebled their own, fought as only texans can. with unerring precision they lifted their rifles, and artillerymen and officers rolled together in the dust. the brave little band conquered, and the flying mexicans left them sole masters of the field of the "horseshoe." on the hill which rose just beyond the town stood, in bold relief against the eastern sky, a tall square building, to which the sobriquet of "powder-house" was applied. here, as a means of increased vigilance, was placed a body of horse, for the purpose of watching the plain which stretched along the river. fearing every moment to see the victorious texans at the heels of their retreating infantry, they had orders to dash in, at the first glimpse of the advance-guard of the enemy. but night closed and none appeared, and, dreading the morning light, many lay down to sleep at the close of that eventful day. several hours elapsed, and then the texan forces, under general burleson, wound across the valley, and settled along the verge of the town. the alamo was beleaguered. forced, as it were, to remain a witness of the horrors of the then approaching conflict, the cousins strove to cast from them the gloomy forebodings which crept into their hearts, darkening the present and investing the future with phantoms of terror. mrs. carlton and mary were far more hopeful than the remainder of the little circle, and kept up the semblance of cheerfulness, which ever flies at the approach of danger. the girls saw but little of the gentlemen, for mr. carlton was ever out in search of tidings from the camp, and frank, in opposition to his sister's tearful entreaties, had enlisted immediately after general burleson's arrival. his manner, during his brief visits, was considerate and kind; yet mary fancied at times that he avoided her, though, marking her declining health, he had prescribed some simple remedy, and never failed to inquire if she were not improving. still there was a certain something, indescribable, yet fully felt, which made her shrink from meeting him, and as week after week passed, her cheek grew paler, and her step more feeble. with an anxious heart, mrs. carlton watched her failing strength; but to all inquiries and fears mary replied that she did not suffer, save from her cough, and for a time dispelled her apprehensions. one evening mary stood leaning against the window, looking earnestly, wistfully upon the beautiful tints which ever linger in the western sky. she stretched her arms toward the dim outline, murmuring slowly: "oh! that my life may fade away as gently as those tints, and that i may at last rest on the bosom of my god." darkness closed around--the soft hues melted into the deep blue of the zenith as she stood communing with her own heart, and she started when a shawl was wrapped about her, and the window closed. "as ministering physician, i cannot allow such neglect of injunctions. how dare you expose yourself after my express direction to keep close?" "i have kept very closely all day, and did not know that star-gazing was interdicted." as she spoke, a violent fit of coughing succeeded; he watched her anxiously. "do you suffer any acute pain?" "occasionally i do; but nothing troubles me so much as an unpleasant fluttering about my heart, which i often have." "you must be very careful, or your cough will increase as winter comes on." mary repressed a sigh which struggled up from her heart, and inquired if there was any news. "we cannot learn exactly what is transpiring within the alamo, but feel assured the crisis is at hand; some excitement has prevailed in the garrison all day, and it is confidently expected in our camp that the assault will soon be made." "oh! may god help you in the coming strife, and adjudge victory to the side of justice and liberty." "apparently the chances are against us, miss irving; yet i regard the future without apprehension, for the texans are fearless, and general burleson in every respect worthy the confidence reposed in him. allow gloomy forebodings no room in your heart, but, like myself anticipate a speedy termination of the war." "yet your situation is perilous in the extreme; hourly you incur danger, and each day may be your last. oh! why will you hazard your life, and cause your sister such bitter anguish?" mary replied, with quivering lips, while the tone faltered, despite her efforts to seem calm. "at least, i could not die in a better cause; and, as the price of independence, i would willingly yield up my life. yet ellen's tears are difficult to bear; i bade her adieu a few moments since, and must not meet her again till all is decided. so good-by, miss irving." he held her hand in his, pressing it warmly, then lifted the cold fingers to his lips, and quietly turned away. chapter xx. "it rains--what lady loves a rainy day? she loves a rainy day who sweeps the hearth, and threads the busy needle, or applies the scissors to the torn or threadbare sleeve; and blesses god that she has friends and home." anon. "mary, where is your cousin? i have not seen her since breakfast," inquired mrs. carlton, as the two friends sat conversing in the chamber of the latter. "she laid aside her book just now, declaring it was so dark she could scarcely read. this gloomy day has infected her spirits; she is probably in the dining-room. i will seek her." and rising, mary left the apartment. for two days the rain had fallen in torrents, and now on the third morning, the heavens were still overcast, and at intervals of every few moments the heavy clouds discharged themselves in copious showers. the despondency induced by the unsettled times was enhanced by the gloomy weather, and many an earnest wish was expressed that sunshine would soon smile again upon the town. weary with pacing up and down the dining-room, florence had stationed herself at the window, and stood with her cheek pressed against the panes, gazing dreamily out upon the deluged streets. she was roused from her reverie by mary's entrance. "florry, i have come in quest of you. pray, how are you amusing yourself here, all alone?" "communing with my own thoughts, as usual. here, mary, stand beside me. as you came in i was puzzling myself to discover how those mexican women across the street are employing themselves. they seem distressed, yet every now and then chatter with most perfect unconcern. there, they are both on their knees, with something like a picture hanging on the fence before them. they dart in and out of the house in a strange, excited manner. perhaps you can enlighten me?" mary looked earnestly in the direction indicated by her cousin, and at length replied: "you will scarcely credit my explanation: yet i assure you i perfectly understand the pantomime. florry, look more particularly at the picture suspended in the rain. what does it most resemble, think you?" "ah, i see now--it is an image of the virgin! but i should suppose they considered it sacrilegious to expose it to the inclemencies of the weather." "look closely, florry, there are praying to the virgin, and imploring a cessation of the rain. i once happened at señor gonzale's during a thunder-storm, and, to my astonishment, the family immediately hung out all the paintings of saints they possessed. i inquired the meaning, and was told in answer, that the shower would soon pass over, as they had petitioned the images to that effect. those women have repeated a certain number of aves, and withdrawn into the house, but ere long you will see them return, and go through the same formula." "it is almost incredible that they should ascribe such miraculous power to these little bits of painted canvas," replied florence, gazing curiously upon the picture which was suspended with the face toward her. "no, not incredible, when you remember the quantity of relics annually exported from rome, such as 'chips of the cross,' 'bones of the apostles,' and 'fragments of the virgin's apparel,' which papists conscientiously believe are endowed with magical powers sufficient to relieve various infirmities. i doubt not that those women confidently expect a favorable response to their petition; and if such intercession could avail, it was certainly never more needed. absurd as the practise appears to us, a doubt of the efficacy of their prayers never crossed their minds. they are both devout and conscientious." "but, mary, such superstitious ignorance is entirely confined to the degraded and uneducated classes. no really intelligent mind could rely on yonder picture to dispel these clouds, and win a ray of sunshine. i think you are too hasty in supposing that the enlightened portion of the catholic church place such implicit confidence in images and relics." "what do you term the enlightened portion of the church? would not its prelates be considered as belonging to that class?" "most certainly they would, mary: for doubtless many of the greatest minds europe has produced, were and are still to be found among the roman catholic clergy. yet you would not insinuate that these rely on the efficacy of such mummery as that we have just witnessed?" replied florence, fixing her eyes inquiringly upon her cousin's face. "allow me to ask one question ere i reply. florry, do you believe the days of miracles have passed away, or do you suppose that the laws of nature are still constantly infringed, the harmony of cause and effect destroyed, and wonderful phenomena still vouchsafed to favored europeans?" "of course i do not advocate the theory that miracles occur at the present day. it is too preposterous to advance in this enlightened age. there are perhaps natural phenomena, only to be explained by scientific research; yet in the common acceptation of the term miracle, i unhesitatingly declared that i believe none have occurred since the days of christ and the apostles." "then, florry, your position is untenable, for romish prelates of the present day do most unquestionably defend the theory of the annual occurrence of miracles. bishop ----, whose intellectual endowments are the constant theme of encomiums, has recently visited italy. on his return to america, he brought with him a valuable collection of relics, which he distributed among the members of his church. florry, i can vouch for the truth of what i now say. he declared himself extremely fortunate in having happened at naples during the anniversary of the death of st. janarius. said he, 'i repaired to the place of his martyrdom, and took into my own hand the vial containing the blood of the blessed saint, now decomposed. as the hour rolled around i watched the holy dust in breathless anxiety; at the appointed moment i perceived a change in its appearance, and while i held the vial in my hand the ashes liquefied and became veritable blood; while the dark spots on a neighboring stone turned of a deep crimson.' now the bishop related this miracle far and wide and priests ministering at the altar repeated his words to their listening flocks. sanctioned by the example of their prelates, do you wonder that the ignorant masses of the romish church should implicitly rely upon the intercession of saints, and place unbounded confidence in the miraculous powers imputed to relics? again, the manuals placed in the hands of the laity, are compiled under the special supervision of these ecclesiastical professors, who necessarily indorse all we see there advanced. in the ursuline manual i find this assertion: 'the hail mary was composed in heaven, dictated by the holy ghost, and delivered to the faithful by the angel gabriel!' now, florry, does not this seem blasphemy, bordering on the absurd? what conscientious, honest, enlightened christian would unblushingly defend such a declaration?" "but, mary, admitting as you do, that you believe there exist many truly conscientious members of this sect, why indulge your apprehension at the promulgation of its tenets?" replied florence. "i might answer you, florry, in the words of henry iv., who inquired of a celebrated protestant divine, 'if a man might be saved by the roman catholic religion?' 'undoubtedly,' replied the clergyman, 'if his life and heart be holy.' 'then,' said the king, 'according to both catholics and protestants, i may be saved by the catholic religion; but if i embrace your religion, i shall not be saved according to the catholics.' thus henry most unquestionably adjudged protestants the more tolerant of the two sects. here, florry, you have the clew to my anti-romanism. i fear the extension of papal doctrines, because liberty of conscience was never yet allowed where sufficient power was vested in the roman catholic clergy to compel submission. to preserve the balance of power in ecclesiastical affairs is the only aim of protestants. we but contend for the privilege of placing the bible in the hands of the masses--of flashing the glorious flambeau of truth into the dark recesses of ignorance and superstition--into the abysmal depths of papal iniquity. unscrupulously employing every method conducive to the grand end of disseminating romish dogmas, the fagot, the wheel, and all the secret horrors of the inquisition, were speedily brought to bear upon all who dared to assume the privilege of worshiping god according to the dictates of an unfettered conscience. if the bloody tragedies of the middle ages are no longer enacted upon the theater of a more enlightened world, it is because the power so awfully abused has been wrested from the scarlet-robed tenants of the vatican, the same fierce, intolerable tyranny is still exercised where their jurisdiction is unquestioned. from the administration of the pontifical states of italy to the regulation of convent discipline, we trace the workings of the same iron rule. no barriers are too mighty to be overborne, no distinctions too delicate to to be thrust rudely aside. even the sweet sacredness of the home circle is not exempt from the crushing, withering influence. ah! how many fair young members of the household band have been decoyed from the hearthstone and immured in gloomy cells. ah! how many a widowed parent has mourned over the wreck of all that was beautiful in a cherished daughter, snatched by the hand of bigotry from her warm embrace, and forever incarcerated in monastic gloom. oh! tell me, florry, if compulsory service is acceptable to all-seeing god? if the warm young heart, beating behind many a convent grate, yearns to burst asunder the iron bands which enthrall her, and, mingling again upon the stage of life to perform the duties for which she was created, oh! where in holy writ is sanction found for the tyrannical decree which binds her there forever--a living sacrifice?" chapter xxi. "'tis the light that tells the dawning of the bright millennial day, heralding its blessed morning, with its peace-restoring ray. * * * * * "man no more shall seek dominion through a sea of human gore; war shall spread its gloomy pinion o'er the peaceful earth no more." burleigh. it was a dark, tempestuous night in december, and the keen piercing blasts whistled around the corners and swept moaningly across the plaza. silence reigned over the town. no sound of life was heard--the shout of laughter, the shriek of pain, or wail of grief was stilled. the voices of many who had ofttimes hurried along the now silent and deserted streets were hushed in death. the eventful day had dawned and set, the records of its deeds borne on to god by the many that had fallen. oh! when shall the millennium come? when shall peace and good-will reign throughout the world? when shall hatred, revenge, and malice die? when shall the fierce, bitter strife of man with fellow-man be ended? and oh! when shall desolating war forever cease, and the bloody records of the past be viewed as monster distortions of a maddened brain? these things shall be when the polity of the world is changed. when statesmen cease their political, and prelates their ecclesiastical intrigues; when monarch, and noble, and peasant, alike cast selfishness and dissimulation far from them; when the bible is the text-book of the world, and the golden rule observed from pole to pole. the th of december is marked with a white stone in the calendar of the texans. during the fortnight which elapsed from the engagement of conception, the alamo had been closely invested by general burleson, and brief though bloody struggles almost daily occurred. the besiegers numbered only eight hundred, while the fortress was garrisoned by twenty-five hundred mexican troops. yet well-directed valor has ever proved more than a match for numerical superiority. on the morning of the th a desperate assault was made, a violent struggle ensued, and ere long victory declared for the "lone star." with unutterable chagrin general cos was forced to dispatch a messenger bearing the white banner of submission to the texan commander, and night saw the alamo again in texan hands, and general cos and his disheartened band prisoners of war. dr. bryant had received, during the engagement, a wound in the arm, which he caused to be dressed, and, placing the injured member in a sling, strove to soothe the dying and relieve the wounded. early he dispatched tidings of his safety to his anxious sister, and now devoted himself to the suffering soldiery. midnight found him beside the couch of pain, and even as he bent to administer a sedative, a hand was lightly laid on his shoulder. looking up, frank perceived the muffled form of a female, though unable to determine who stood beside him, for the face was entirely concealed by the mantilla. "can i do anything for you, señora?" "dr. bryant, will you leave your people here to see a dying mexican--one who fell fighting against you?" "most assuredly, if i can render relief; but, inez, you should not have ventured here on such an errand; could no messenger be found? it was imprudent in you to come at this hour." "no matter; i felt no fear of your people, and mine would not molest me. but i have little time to wait. mañuel is sorely wounded: we bore him from the alamo, and he lies at my father's. can you do nothing for him?" "i hope it is not too late to render assistance; we will go immediately." and drawing his cloak over the wounded arm, he followed her to don garcia's. neither spoke till they reached the threshold; then frank said: "inez, does mañuel know you came for me?" "yes; he objected at first, but as the pain grew more acute, he begged us to do something for him. i told him there was none to help save you. he frowned a little, but nodded his head, and then i lost no time." they entered the apartment of the sufferer, and inez started at the change which had taken place during her temporary absence. mañuel feebly turned his head as the door opened, and his eyes brightened as they rested on inez. he motioned her to sit beside him, and she complied, lifting his head and carefully leaning it upon her bosom. dr. bryant examined the wound, felt the pulse, and stooping over him, asked: "nevarro, do you suffer much?" mañuel laid his hand on the bleeding side, and feebly inclined his head. "inez, i can only use one hand, will you assist me in binding this wound?" she attempted to rise, but nevarro clutched her hand and gasped--"too late--too late!" resolved to do something, if possible, for his relief, frank beckoned to the don, who stood near, and with some difficulty they succeeded in passing a bandage round the mouth of the wound. the groans of the dying man caused even the cheek of the fearless inez to blanch. she who scorned danger, and knew not fear, could not witness with out a pang the sufferings of another. she moaned in very sympathy, and stroked gently back the straight raven hair, now clotted with blood. the exertion necessarily made proved fatal; the breathing grew short and painful, the pulse slow and feeble. appealing was the look which the wounded one bent on inez: he strove to utter his wishes, but, alas, it was indeed too late. the blood gushed anew from his side, crimsoning bandage and couch, and dyeing inez's dress. dr. bryant took one of the cold hands and pressed it kindly. mañuel opened his eyes, and looked gratefully on one who had at least endeavored to relieve him. convulsively the fingers closed over his physician's hand; again he turned his face to inez, and with a groan expired. frank took the lifeless form from her arms, and laying it gently back upon the pillow, closed the eyes forever, and covered the face. no words, save "holy mary!" escaped the don's lips, as he quitted the room of death. inez's lips quivered, and the convulsive twitching of her features plainly indicated her grief at this mournful parting with the playmate of her youth--with her affianced husband. yet the large dark eyes were undimmed: and her tone calm, as though the "king of terrors" were not there in all his gloom. "inez, i sympathize with you in this affliction, and sincerely regret that the fatal wound was inflicted by one of my nation. yet the past is irretrievable, though painful, and many are, like you, bereft of friends and relatives. inez, in your hours of gloom and sadness can you not think of your reunion with mañuel, where death and parting are unknown!" she had averted her head, and a look of unutterable bitterness rested on the pale, stern face. "i thank you for coming; though you could not give mañuel relief. it was good and kind in you to try, and none but frank bryant would have done it: again i thank you. i shall not forget this night, and you, señor, shall be requited. i trust you are not suffering with your arm; why is it bound up?" and she laid her hand softly on it. "i received a slight though rather painful wound during the engagement, and placed it in a sling for convenience and relief; but, inez, it is well-nigh day, see how the stars are waning. you need rest, so good night, or rather morning; i will see you again to-morrow." and frank sought his sister, knowing full well her anxiety, and wishing speedily to allay it. chapter xxii. "where is the place of meeting? at what hour rises the moon? i repair to what? to hold a council in the dark with common ruffians leagued to ruin states!" byron. the fierce storm of war had swept over the town, and quiet seemed succeeding. no sound of strife disturbed the stillness which settled around. many had fallen, and the grass began to bud on the grave of mañuel; no tear moistened the sod beneath which he rested. inez often stood beside the newly-raised mound with folded arms, and a desolate, weary look on her beautiful features, which too plainly indicated a longing to sleep near him. yet she never wept; for her love for nevarro had been that of a cousin, perhaps not so fervent. still, now that his steps no longer echoed at their door, and his deep voice sounded not again on her ear, a lonely feeling stole into her heart, and often she crept from her dreary home and sought the churchyard. christmas had come and gone; a joyless season to many saddened hearts accustomed to hail it with delight. the cousins had returned to their home, and were busily arranging their yard, and making some alterations for the new year. florence had begun of late to grow cheerful again, and mary watched, with silent joy, the delicate tinge come back to her marble cheek. she seemed very calm, and almost hopeful; and the spirit of peace descended and rested on their hearth. only one cause of sorrow remained--mary's declining health: yet she faded so gently, and almost painlessly, that their fears were ofttimes lulled. dr. bryant was still engaged in nursing the wounded, and only came occasionally, regretting often that it was not in his power to see them more frequently. a change had come over him of late; the buoyancy of his spirits seemed broken, and his gay tone of raillery was hushed; the bright, happy look of former days was gone, and a tinge of sadness was sometimes perceptible on his handsome face. mrs. carlton had spoken on her last visit of frank's departure. she said she hoped he would return soon, as his business required attention at home. he would not leave, however, as long as his services were in requisition. one sabbath morning inez attended mass--something unusual for her of late, for since nevarro's death she had secluded herself as much as possible. she knelt in her accustomed place, with covered head, seemingly rapt in devotion, but the eyes rested with an abstracted expression on the wall beside her: her thoughts were evidently wandering from her rosary, and now and then the black brows met as her forehead wrinkled; still the fingers slid with mechanical precision up and down the string of beads. the services were brief and the few who had assembled quietly departed. as inez rose to go, the padre, who was hastening down the aisle, was stopped by a mexican in the garb of a trader. they stood quite near, and the hoarse whisper of the latter fell on her listening ear. "meet me at the far end of the alameda, when the moon rises to-night." "i will be there before you: is there any good news?" a finger was laid on the lip, and a significant nod and wink were not lost upon the maiden, who, bowing low before the padre, walked slowly away. the day wore on, much as sabbaths ordinarily do, yet to her it seemed as though darkness would never fall again, and many times she looked out on the shadows cast by the neighboring houses athwart the street. twilight closed at last, and having placed her father's evening meal before him, she cautiously gazed down the narrow alley, and perceiving no one stirring, sallied forth. the stars gave a faint light, and she hurried on toward the bridge: swift was her step, yet noiseless, and she glided on like a being from another world, so stealthy were her movements. the bridge was gained at length and almost passed, when she descried in the surrounding gloom a dark figure approaching from the opposite direction. closer she drew the mantle about her form, and slackened her rapid pace. they met, and the stranger paused and bent eagerly forward: "who goes there?" the voice was well known. inez's heart gave a quick bound, and she answered: "inez de garcia!" "why, where are you roaming to this dark night, inez? are you not afraid to venture out alone and so far from home?" "no, doctor, i have no fears; i was never a coward you know; and besides, who would harm me, an unoffending woman? surely your people will not molest me?" "no, certainly not. but, inez, i hope you are not bending your steps toward the alamo?" "i am a friend to the americans, though they have taken the last of my family there was to give. yet i will be true to mary and to you. fear nothing for me, and let me pass on my errand." he stood aside. "bueño noche, señorita." "bueño noche;" and she glided on. "i fear i have lost time;" and hastily glancing toward the east, she saw a faint light stealing up from the horizon. redoubling her speed she pushed on, but, despite her efforts, the moon rose with uncommon brilliance as she approached the place of rendezvous, and soon every object was bathed in a flood of light. the alameda, which she had just entered, was a long double row of majestic cotton-woods, which, stretching out in the direction of the powder-house, was the favorite promenade with the inhabitants of the town. previous to the breaking out of the war numbers were to be seen here every afternoon, some walking, others playing games, another group dancing, and the graver portion of the company resting on the rude seats supplied for the purpose. but their favorite resort was blood-stained, for the alameda was the battle-field in the late desperate conflict, and the smooth surface was torn and trampled by the stamp of prancing cavalry. dark spots were still visible, that were yet damp with gore. just to the west rose the grim walls of the fort, distinctly seen through the opening between the trees. beyond where the avenue ceased, stood a low, irregular building of stone, thatched with tule. inez stood at the threshold and listened intently. the place bore a desolate air, and neither sound nor light betokened the presence of a human being. it had long been uninhabited, and some declared it was haunted, so that the padre had some time before sprinkled holy water profusely about, in order to drive away the evil one. cautiously inez tried the fastening; it swerved not beneath her firm, strong grasp. she shook it slightly: a hollow echo answered back. entrance was impossible; and even as she lingered irresolute, the sound of approaching steps was borne to her listening ears by the night wind. what should she do? without a moment's hesitation she glided swiftly to a cluster of chapperal, and crouched low among its thorny branches. inez had scarcely secreted herself, when the figure of a man, directing his steps to the house she had just left, warned her to keep quiet. he stood still a moment, then knocked. drearily the knock resounded through the empty building. again was the signal for admission given, but no response greeted the anxious tympanums. "why in the name of twenty devils don't you open the door?" and he shook it violently: still no answer. "i swear i'll batter it down, and stretch you on it to boot, if you don't let me in. why do you keep me waiting? i am too late already." "nay, nay; restrain your impatience," said a voice behind him. "by the saints, you are come in good time, padre. i had well-nigh made a soldier's entrance." "no need of violence, señor. why could not you wait in christian patience?" "look here, my good friend. i came not all the way from mexico to listen to a lecture; and you will do well to save your canting for a better time and a worse man. so, mazzolin, just open the door of this cursed den." roused by the bold language of the stranger, the padre, though anxious to learn his errand, was still true to his policy, and could in no measure compromise the dignity of his person. "there is no obligation resting on me to do so against my will, and no man shall bully or threaten me, a priest of our holy church." he had partially opened the door, but closed it again. enraged beyond degree, the soldier grasped what little collar was afforded by the habit he wore. "you infernal, canting hypocrite! i swear by cortes i'll kick you to a jelly--i'll bastinade you till you won't know the virgin from the devil, if you don't instantly let me in, and keep your lying tongue in your jesuit head. think you to gull me with your holy talk? i know you all: you are a blessed, holy brotherhood, truly. have i not seen your letters to mexico, you canting scoundrel?" he shook the padre violently as he delivered this benediction. now father mazzolin, like many of his sex, was fond of supporting his dignity, and reverence for his sacred person was especially inculcated by his teachings. yet when firmly met his threats melted away, and, to all appearances, his choler too, for he knew full well when to succumb and when to oppose belligerent demonstrations. the expression of rage that darkened the face of the soldier, left no doubt that he would execute his threat if further opposed. and father mazzolin, fully satisfied that the organ of reverence was altogether omitted in his cranium, thought it best to comply. "ha! you can understand irish logic as well as the next brave one." and he entered, followed by the padre, who ground his teeth with mortification. an hour later they stood again on the threshold in earnest converse, not perceiving the dark form which fled, on the reopening of the door, to the old hiding-place. they turned to go in different directions; the stranger stopped, and calling to the padre, desired him to keep well the secret, and in no way divulge a breath of their conference. "it could not be in safer hands," was answered back, and they parted. a low, bitter laugh escaped inez's lips as, waiting till it was safe to venture forth, she rose from the chapperal and hastened homeward. "padre, cunning though you are, we are well mated; there are few like unto you and me." chapter xxiii. "i simply tell thee peril is at hand, and would preserve thee!" byron. two days later the cousins sat in their front room, florence intently reading, mary watching beside the couch of pain, bathing her aunt's brow, and chafing the hands. aunt lizzy was suffering from violent nervous headache: all day she had tossed restlessly about, and now, soothed by the gentle touches on her brow, had fallen asleep. her fingers had tightly clasped mary's small, thin hands, but gradually relaxing their hold, sunk beside her. softly smoothing back the disordered hair, the young nurse failed to perceive the entrance of dr. bryant, and only looked up when a beautiful bouquet of flowers was laid upon her lap. the feverish glow deepened on her cheek as she warmly thanked him. "i am glad you like them, miss irving." "how could i do otherwise?" "my bunch is equally beautiful," cried florence, holding it up for inspection. "pray, doctor, how came you so thoroughly acquainted with our different tastes? you have selected admirably." "i am gratified at succeeding so happily in my arrangement of them. but i hope your aunt is not seriously indisposed?" "no, merely a bad nervous attack, to which she is subject." "miss mary, as you are free from apprehension on her account, can you take a short ride this evening? i have a gentle horse at the gate, and if you will trust yourself with me, i think a good canter will benefit you exceedingly: will you go?" mary sought florence's eye; it brightened with pleasure. "certainly, mary; why do you hesitate? i am very glad dr. bryant suggested it; i will take good care of aunt, and the ride will doubtless benefit you." "you are very kind, doctor; i will only detain you while i change my dress." and she withdrew. "don't you think she looks much better to-day?" asked florence, anxiously, as her cousin left the room. "she has certainly more color, but i am afraid it is only a feverish glow. let me entreat you, miss hamilton, to watch over her with the greatest care: the slightest exposure might cause a return of that terrible cough, and in her feeble state i fear for the consequences." "she has grown very, very thin, within the last month; but then, when warm weather comes again, i doubt not she will grow rosy and strong once more." they both sighed heavily, as though against conviction each had striven to cheer the other. mary re-entered the room equipped for her ride, and now, for the first time, florence thought her cousin beautiful. beneath her straw hat floated back from her fair face a luxuriant mass of brown curls; a bright blush mantled the delicate cheek, and the gentle blue eyes seemed unusually large and brilliant. a smile dimpled round her lip as she met the fond glance bent upon her. florence tenderly clasped her hand a moment, then kissed her warmly, and bade dr. bryant take all care of her. he promised to do so, and soon they had passed beyond her sight. they rode slowly, lest mary should be too much fatigued; and often the eyes of her companion rested on the frail but lovely being by his side. "which way shall we ride?" "if you have no preference, suppose we go to san pedro?" "you could not have selected more in accordance with my own wishes." a long silence ensued, broken only by the clatter of their horses' hoofs along the gravel path. "the prospect of leaving forever these beautiful environs, which i have so often admired, fills me with inexpressible regret. my heart clings to san antonio, though my residence here has been very brief;" said dr. bryant sadly. "do you go to return no more?" asked mary, with averted head. "yes, most probably i shall never see this place again; for i wish to visit europe so soon as my business affairs are arranged at home, and on my return, shall devote myself to my profession." he fixed his eyes earnestly on her face as he spoke. slowly the head drooped, till the hat concealed her features. "we shall miss you very much when you are gone. florry and i feel deeply grateful for your continued kindness, and never--no, never shall we forget your care of my uncle." "take care--take care; you are dropping your reins." he gathered them up and replaced them in her hand. "thank you; i had quite forgotten them." "do you not think it would be best for you and florence to return to your friends in louisiana? this is an unpleasant home for you." "it was my uncle's wish that we should remain here, and i know florry would not consent to leave, unless some danger threatened. we have learned to love san antonio more dearly than any other place, except our old home;" replied mary, earnestly. "by the bye, i had almost forgotten to mention that i have had a letter from an old friend, who inquired very particularly after you--dudley stewart; you knew him, i think, in new orleans. his letter is dated six months ago; but i am happy to receive it at all during these unsettled times." "we heard of his marriage," said mary, in a low tone, as the image of florence rose before her. "his marriage! oh, no! you must be mistaken. he would most certainly have mentioned it, for we are old and intimate friends." "it was reported that he had married his cousin." "ah! is that all? i am not much surprised that you should have heard that, for before i left home it was quite current. his widowed mother was very anxious to make the match; but stewart assured me he would never comply with her wishes, as he had fully resolved never to wed a woman he did not tenderly love; and though quite pretty, ellen is not sufficiently intellectual to attract such a man." "are you quite sure of this, dr. bryant?" said mary, in a quick, eager tone. "certainly; i had it from his own lips." "oh! i"--she stopped short, and her cheek crimsoned, as she met the piercing glance of his dark eye bent upon her face. her small hands trembled so that the reins quivered, and she closed her eyes for a moment, while the glow fled from her cheeks, leaving them pale as marble. he caught her hand, and steadied her in her saddle. "forgive my inattention, miss irving, you are not strong enough to extend your ride. your face is very pale, and you look fatigued." "yes, let us go home--home." her voice was low and faltering, and she with difficulty restrained the tears which sprung to her eyes. they turned their horses' heads, and neither attempted to remove the restraint which both experienced. they entered the town, and then seeing her hand glide quickly to her side, he gently said: "i am afraid we are riding too fast for you." her lips writhed for a moment with acute pain; but with a faint smile, which touched him with its sadness, she replied: "i am better now--the pain has almost left me, i am very sorry to trouble you so much, dr. bryant," "trouble!" he murmured, as if communing with his own heart. "i see you do not know me, nor ever will; for none have truly read my soul or sympathized." a look of bitterness passed over his face, and a sterner expression rested there than mary had ever marked before. she knew not what to reply, for she could not comprehend the change, and even as she pondered, he pointed to the western sky, and, much in his usual tone, asked: "don't you think the sunsets here exceed any you ever beheld elsewhere?" "in brilliancy they certainly do. yet i love still better the soft tints which often linger till the stars come out. i think they blend and harmonize more beautifully with the deep blue of the zenith than any i have seen before, and i have watched sunsets from my childhood." "you are right; i have noticed in more northern latitudes a very perceptible difference in the appearance of the firmament. the moon, for instance, on cold, clear nights, presents a silvery, glittering disk, but the soft mellow light of a southern clime is wanting." while he spoke, the figure of a woman emerged from a house near by, and, softly approaching mary's horse, laid her finger on her lips, and, pressing a piece of paper into her hand, returned as silently as she came. dr. bryant turned his head toward mary as he finished speaking, and, catching a glimpse of the retreating form, looked inquiringly at her. "i believe it was inez, though the face was entirely concealed. she did not speak, but gave me this paper," and mary unrolled the note: "marinita, "santa anna has crossed the rio grande with eight thousand men. i warn you of your danger. you can get horses now, for the padre cannot control your people. there are brave men in the alamo, tell them of their danger. again i say, fly quickly from san antonio. "inez." with a groan, mary handed him the paper. in silence he perused and returned it to her. "tell me, was it inez who warned you before?" "yes, she told me we incurred unknown dangers by remaining here." he mused for several moments. "ah! i can understand it all now. several nights ago, returning from the alamo, i met her on the bridge alone; she seemed excited, i thought, and impatient at meeting me, for i questioned her rambling so late." "inez is a warm friend, and what she advises i feel almost bound to do, for she is not timid, and only real danger rouses her apprehension." "eight thousand men! and not two hundred to man the alamo. inez is right; this is not a proper place for you. we will go, as we once decided, to washington; and when you are in safety, i will return and lend my efforts to the feeble garrison." they reached the gate, and he gently lifted the frail form from the saddle; and, drawing her arm through his, led her to the house. as they entered, he bent his head and said, in, a low tone: "tell me candidly, are you able to undergo the fatigue incident to this journey? i fear you are not." "yes, i shall perhaps grow stronger; at any rate, if you do not change your mind, let no fears for me influence you." when leaving, he said it was probable that all would be in readiness for their departure within a couple of days, as he wished to see them secure, and then return. "mrs. carlton will accompany us when she learns this terrible news?" said mary, inquiringly. "oh yes; i cannot consent for her to remain, and besides mr. carlton has been anxious for some time regarding his family." florence, having read the note, fully approved their promptly removing, and all necessary preparations were made for immediate departure. mary longed inexpressibly to impart to her cousin what she had learned respecting mr. stewart, but shrank instinctively from reviving hopes which might never be realized--hopes which florence had long since crushed and cast out of her heart as dead. with an earnest prayer that her cousin might yet be blessed and happy, mary determined not to broach the subject at least for a time. dr, bryant without delay apprised the garrison of the rumor which had reached him, and a courier was immediately despatched to headquarters for reinforcements sufficient to defend this important fortress--this key of the state--from the powerful force now advancing to assault it. horses were supplied with alacrity, for he had made many and warm friends, and two large tents, together with a baggage-wagon, were readily granted to one who so nobly contributed to the relief of the sick, wounded, and dying. at length every arrangement was completed, and the next morning appointed for their departure. aunt lizzy had objected at first, but speedily became reconciled when dr. bryant painted, in a graphic manner, the horrors which were about to ensue. as the shades of evening came gently on, the girls set out for mrs. carlton's, as from her dwelling they commenced their journey. aunt lizzy remained to give some final direction, and then came a sorrowful parting with their servants, one of whom took mary in her arms and bade god bless her, while the tears rolled over her wrinkled face. mary could not repress her own, and she sobbed convulsively. dr. bryant, who had come over for them, laid his hand on the shoulder of the true-hearted negress, and said: "why, aunt fanny, you must not excite miss irving; she is not strong, you know, and has a long ride before her to-morrow." "oh yes, doctor, it will do well enough for you to tell me not to cry, but i can't help it, for i love her as if she was my own child, and if i thought to see her again i should not grieve so much; but i saw her mother before her, and i know how she grew pale and thin, and then took to the sofa, and never rose up till she was carried to her grave; and can't i see that blessed child going just like her? oh i it's no use talking to me; she ain't long for this world, and it's hard--yes, it's hard for her to die away from old fanny!" and she covered her face with her apron, and sobbed aloud. mary wiped her own tears quickly away, and taking the hand of her old friend, led her back to the kitchen. for several moments her companions waited anxiously for her; and soon she advanced slowly to meet them. frank drew her arm through his, and sadly they walked away. passing the gate, mary paused and looked out on the river, where she had so often sat at this hour; and sad though sweet associations, infinite in number, crowded upon her mind. how calm and beautiful all nature seemed, as though arrayed in its loveliest garb to chain her affection, that, in after years, the memory of that western home might steal gently up amidst surrounding gloom, to charm away the anguish of some bitter hour, and soothe the saddened spirit. her heart was inexpressibly touched, and she averted her head to conceal the expression of keen sorrow which rested on her face. "this view of the san antonio has often struck me as particularly fine," said dr. bryant, turning to florence, whose pale cheek alone attested regret at leaving her home. "yes, i know none superior; and our favorite ramble was along this bank, and down the river side." "its windings are multitudinous, yet how graceful every curve: and then, the deep blue of its waters adds not a little to the beauty of the whole. but we have not leisure to admire it now, for your cousin must not be chilled, and the wind blows freshly from the north." he stepped on as he spoke, but feeling the small hands clasped over his arm, looked earnestly down into the pale face at his side. mary was bending a last, long look on house and tree and river; as they walked on, the different objects passed beyond her view, and then a faint moan escaped her lips. she met the anxious gaze of her friend, and replied to its silent questioning: "forgive what doubtless seems a great weakness. you and florry can not sympathize with me now. you will both return ere long, but my eyes have rested for the last time on each loved object. i have dreaded this parting from the home that has grown so dear to me--but the pang is over." her deep blue eyes rested on his face, and touchingly sad was the expression, as she swept back the clustering hair from her brow. the lips quivered, as of late they often did when she was excited. florence did not hear her words, for she had crossed the street; but frank's heart throbbed violently as he listened to her low, sad tone. laying his hand on hers, that were tightly clasped, he pressed them gently, and said, in a slightly faltering voice: "for florence's sake--for mine--for your own, do not give way to such gloomy forebodings! your depressed spirits will act injuriously on your health. let me beg you to place no confidence in aunt fanny's words at parting; she was herself scarce conscious of their import." "i have no gloomy forebodings, no apprehension of the future, and generally no depressed spirits; but i know full well that my life is gradually wasting away, slowly, gently, and almost without pain, i am sinking to an early tomb. yet i would not have it otherwise if i could. death has long lost all terrors for me; i have no fear--all is peace and quiet. i am paining you. forgive me, dr. bryant; but knowing that you and florry were anxious about me, i thought it best to tell you that i am fully aware of my danger, if so i can term what i would not avert." a shudder crept over the strong man as he looked down at the calm, colorless face of her who spoke so quietly of death, and of quitting forever the scenes she loved so truly. "i cannot--will not believe you are so ill. you will grow stronger when we leave this place, and a year hence, when quite well again, you will beg pardon for the pain you have given me." a faint smile played round the thin lips, and in silence they proceeded to mrs. carlton's. chapter xxiv. "who's here besides foul weather?" shakespeare. far away stretched the prairie, bounded, ocean-like, only by the horizon; the monotony occasionally relieved by clumps of aged live oaks, which tossed their branches to and fro in summer breezes and in wintry blasts, and lent a mournful cadence to the howlings of the tempest. now and then a herd of deer, lifting proudly their antlered heads, seemed to scorn danger from the hand of man, as they roamed so freely over the wide, desolate waste which possessed no visible limits. and groups of cattle, starting at the slightest sound, tossed their horns in defiance, and browsed along the mosquit, in many places so luxuriant as well-nigh to conceal their forms. the day had been unusually warm for january, and the sun beamed down with a sickening intensity which made the blood tingle in the veins. toward noon the sky assumed a dull, leaden cast, and light flakes of cloud, like harbingers of evil, scudded ominously overhead. the sun passed the zenith, and a low sighing breeze swept moaningly across the wide waste, even as the wail of lost spirits floats out on the midnight air, and then is hushed forever. the cattle that stood leisurely cropping about, and now and then moving a few paces, lifted their heads, snuffed the air, and, with a simultaneous lowing, started at full speed to the timbered tracts, where they were wont to resort for shelter from the winds of winter. on, on they rushed, till in the distance one might fancy them a quantity of beetles, or other insects, dotting the surface before them. soon not a vestige remained of the flying herd, and happy it was for them they made good their retreat, and gained a place of refuge ere the "norther" burst in all its keenness on the unprotected plain. wildly the piercing blasts whistled through the trees, and rushed furiously on, unimpeded by the forests, which in more eastern lands present a formidable barrier to the progress. the rain began to fall heavily, when a small cavalcade sought the protection of a clump of oaks, by placing the leafy boughs between themselves and the beating, driving torrents. the party consisted of several ladies and gentlemen, two children, and as many servants; the latter in a wagon, the remainder on horseback. with all possible speed the gentlemen dismounted, and, tightly buttoning their great-coats about them, proceeded to stretch two tents, by means of poles and pins, carried in the wagon. night closed in, and finding a sheltered spot beneath the trees, a large fire was kindled, which threw its ruddy light into the surrounding tents, and illumined the entire grove. the horses were picketed out, almost within reach from the tents, and the wagon containing their stores drawn so near as, in some degree, to shelter them. the servants prepared the evening meal--simple, it is true, yet enjoyed far more than a sumptuous repast of indian delicacies, and untold ragouts, eaten without the sauce of hunger produced by their long ride. more than a week had elapsed since leaving san antonio, and mary had borne better than they dared to hope the fatigue of the journey. to-night, however, she lay exhausted on her pallet, the thin cheek bright with fever: gently she declined all that was proffered, and her hollow cough chased the smile from the lips of her friends. dr. bryant knelt beside her, and taking one hot hand in his own, asked, in a low anxious voice, if she suffered. turning away her face, she said--"oh no, not much. there is, however, such a painful throbbing about my heart i can scarcely breathe. and i not feverish?" she continued. "yes;" and he placed his fingers on the pulse, beating violently. "i am afraid you have taken severe cold--the day has been so inclement." and, with a somewhat unsteady hand, he administered a potion. "don't feel uneasy about me, doctor, i shall be better when i sleep." and she turned away, and wearily closed her eyes. when the camp-fire burned low, and all slumbered save mary, who could not calm her feverish excitement, and lay wide awake, she fancied she heard steps around the tent. all was silent; then again came the sound; and raising herself, she thought she perceived some one standing near the entrance. the figure disappeared, and then followed a rumbling, stamping, kicking, as though the horses were verily bewitched. "the indians!" thought mary; and quickly rising, she threw a black mantle round her, and creeping to the door of the tent, peeped cautiously out. the horses still seemed restless, stamping and snorting, and she thought she could softly reach the adjoining tent and rouse the gentlemen, knowing that their arms were in readiness. she had just stepped out of her own tent, and stood out of doors, when she caught a glimpse of a dark, muffled figure walking toward her. the rain had ceased, but it was very dark, and only by the aid of the firelight, now grown dim, she perceived it. a cold shudder crept over her, as, raising her eyes to the blackened sky but an instant, she sprung forward toward the place where she fancied the gentlemen were sleeping. a hand was laid on her arm, and a deep voice sounded in her ear: "be not alarmed, miss mary, i am here!" she trembled so that she could scarcely stand. he supported her a moment, ere she replied in a whisper-- "what causes the disturbance to-night?" "i feel assured there are indians about, though you need fear nothing, for they are not in sufficient numbers to attack us. there are four men in our party--nearly a dozen muskets, besides my pistols, and plenty of ammunition. were you one of the timid sort, i should not venture to tell you my apprehensions: but i know that you are not. i have not slept, or even lain down; and a while ago, i heard the sound of hoofs approaching. taking my pistols, i went round to the horses, and had not waited many moments before i saw two figures, evidently reconnoitering and planning the abduction of our horses, who seemed much alarmed. i suppose the intruders must have seen me, for they suddenly wheeled off and galloped away." "perhaps there is a party not far distant, for whose assistance they have gone." "possibly, though i think not; but you must not stand on this wet ground." he led her to the tent, and seating himself near the door, continued: "i shall not sleep to-night, and rest assured you will be most carefully guarded. you were imprudent to venture out on such a night." "what! when i thought there was danger, and none, save myself, aware of it?" "did you think i could rest, knowing, as i do, how you are suffering?" "i never imagined you were up, or watching, for i heard no sound near me." "well, no matter; sleep, if you can, and dream of peace, and quiet, and perfect happiness." he sighed heavily as he spoke, and rising, renewed the fire. mary lay watching him as he paced to and fro in front of the burning logs--his arms folded across his chest, and his cap drawn over the brow: gradually a sense of utter weariness stole over her, and she slept. at dawn a bustle commenced in the camp, and preparation made--first for breakfast, then for moving. when mary came out, her pale face and wearied look attracted mrs. carlton's attention. "my dear child, i am afraid you are scarcely able to travel to-day; did you not sleep well?" "not so soundly as i could have wished," she said, passing her hand over her brow, as if to remove some painful thought. dr. bryant acquainted them with the adventures of the night suggesting, that in future some of the party should watch, as security for their horses; and all agreed that it was advisable. "how readily one might suppose this a gipsy encampment. miss hamilton and myself are quite dark enough to favor the illusion, and ellen and mr. carlton would pass as of gipsy descent; but what would they think of miss mary? she is decidedly anti-gipsy in her appearance." "i can tell you, uncle frank," cried elliot, clapping his hands; "they would take miss mary for an angel that came to our tent, like the one that came down to see abraham." "unfortunately, angels never appear in the form of a lady, elliot; so you must tax your ingenuity to dispose of me in a different manner," said mary, smiling gently on the noble boy beside her. "indeed, i would sooner think you ought to be an angel than any gentleman i know, or lady either; don't you think so too, uncle frank?" "certainly i do; but, elliot, you should not have made me say so in miss florence's presence. you forget that she is also a young lady." "no, i don't, uncle, and i ask her pardon if i was rude; but i heard you say miss mary was an angel, and though i like miss florence very much indeed, i can't help thinking so too." dr. bryant's cheek flushed, and he glanced quickly at mary. mr. and mrs. carlton and florence laughed good-naturedly; and laying his hand on the boy's head, frank said: "my very promising nephew, you will never be accused of want of candor if you grow up in your present spirit." mary drew the child to her, and whispered in his ear: "your uncle meant that i should soon be in heaven, elliot; and i hope it will not be very long before i am an angel. don't you see how thin and pale i am?" elliot's eyes filled, as he looked earnestly at the gentle girl, so wasted of late, and throwing his arms about her neck, he hid his face on her shoulder, and murmured: "oh! you must not go from us--we can't spare you even to god! why does he want to take you? he has plenty of angels already around him! mother and uncle and i had almost as soon die ourselves as see you go away forever." none heard what passed between them; but mrs. carlton saw a look of pain on mary's pure white brow, and gently drawing her son away, changed the conversation by asking if it would not be better for mary to ride awhile in the wagon. "i am afraid she would find the jolting rather too much for her. however, it will answer as a change, and by driving myself, i can avoid many inequalities. so, miss irving, make up your mind to relinquish your babicca at least for to-day." "you are very kind, dr. bryant, but i greatly prefer your riding as usual. indeed you need not look so incredulous. i won't allow you to make such a sacrifice." "i was not aware that i was making any sacrifice," he coldly answered, and turned away. mary's lip quivered with internal pain, but she offered no further opposition. all was in readiness for moving on. dr. bryant stood arranging florence's bridle, and bantering her on her inattention to the reins. she laughed in her turn. "indeed, doctor, don't you think me a capital horse-woman? you will certainly admit it, after being vanquished in a race?" "really, miss florence, i rather think the credit due to your fine horse than to your skill as a rider. "ah, incorrigible as usual, i see, doctor!" and she rode off to join mr. carlton. mr. carlton had placed mary in the wagon, and carefully arranged her shawls that she might rest easily. frank quietly seated himself, and drove on. "i shall not exert myself in the least to entertain you, so you need not expect it; for having very politely told me you did not desire my company, i shall not disturb you with my chatter, i promise you, and take this opportunity to inform you that my tympanums are at your service the remainder of the day." he glanced over his shoulder at the frail form nearly buried beneath the weight of shawls and cloaks wrapt about her. she smiled, and laid her head on her arm: as she did so, he, looking at her, failed to perceive a large stone in the track, and the wheels passing directly over it caused the wagon to jolt most unmercifully. florence was just in the rear, and, unable to control her mirth, laughed outright as frank and mary bounced up and down; and, riding up to them, merrily asked "if mary duly appreciated her good fortune in having so careful and scientific a driver?" not a little amused, yet scarce able to laugh, the latter replied that "she did indeed congratulate herself on the change of drivers, as she would not have survived the day had it been otherwise." frank joined heartily in their merriment. "miss hamilton," said he, "if you only knew what caused me to overlook that unfortunate stone, you would be more lenient in your criticisms." "i am very sure you will adduce every possible reason in your own favor, sir, and therefore feel no sympathy for your carelessness," she retorted. "really you make me out as incorrigible a self-excuser as the heroine of miss edgeworth's juvenile tales; though even she chanced upon a good excuse occasionally. come, try me, and see what i can urge in my own defense." "well, then, i ask you, _à la godfrey_, what you were thinking of when you, who had an ailing lady in your cart, drove directly over the largest rock you have seen in a week?" "in the first place, i did not see it. you need not look quite so incredulous; i assure you i did not." "that is very evident, but no excuse at all. pray, where were your eyes?" "where nature intended them to be, i suppose." "nonsense! why didn't you use them?" "because i have not the faculty of looking two ways at once, like brahma; and my optics were irresistibly drawn in an opposite direction." "a truce to all such excuses!" "patience, miss florence, hear me only once more. the reason is, that i was looking at your cousin over there, and calculating the chances of her surviving suffocation." "there is certainly some danger. pray, mary, why wrap up so closely? Æolus has closed the mouth of his cave, and the warring winds are securely pent in their prison." "are you not very much edified miss mary? i should beg pardon for such a waste of time and talk, if i were not aware that "'a little nonsense now and then, is relished by the wisest men.'" as mary made no reply, he turned around and regarded her earnestly, her hat had fallen back from the face, which rested on his black cloak. every vestige of mirth fled from his countenance as they gazed on the sleeping girl. the feverish flush had left the cheek, now perfectly wan; the dark brown hair clung on the pure, beautiful brow, and beneath the closed eyes were dark circles, traced by mental suffering. the expression of the face was perfectly calm, yet a wearied look, as though longing to be at rest, lingered there. so motionless she lay, that frank hastily placed his hand on hers to feel if warmth and vitality remained. slowly and faint came the pulsations, and, as he watched her deathlike slumber, his cheek grew pale, a look of unutterable anguish settled on his noble brow, and the finely cut lips were tightly compressed, as with some acute though hidden pain. florence slowly returned to mr. and mrs. carlton--no smile passed her lips the remainder of the day; she seemed now, for the first time, to realize her cousin's danger, and naught could divert her mind from this new grief. dr. bryant bent his head upon his breast, and murmured in saddened tones: "oh, mary! mary! how gladly would i give all i possess on earth to see you strong and well again." chapter xxv. "and therefore my heart is heavy with a sense of unquiet pain, for but heaven can tell if the parted shall meet in the earth again. "with him be the time and the season of our meeting again with thee: whether here, on these earthly borders, or the shore of the world to be." carey. one day our party had traveled further than on any previous occasion: long and tedious was the ride, still they pushed on, hoping to reach some stream ere the tents were pitched for the night, as an abundant supply of pure fresh water was essential to the comfort of their camp. in the metaphorical strain of a certain writer--"phoebus drove his steeds to be foddered in their western stables." slowly twilight fell upon the earth, and, one by one, the lamps of heaven were lit. the wagon in which dr. bryant and mary rode was rather in the rear of the party, as the riders pressed anxiously forward. the cool night-wind blew fresh upon the fevered brow of the invalid, and gently lifted and bore back the clustering curls. "i am very much afraid you will take cold:" and dr. bryant wrapped his coat carefully about her. "thank you:" and she sank back in its heavy folds, and looked up to the brilliant firmament, where the stars glittered, like diamonds on a ground of black velvet, in the clear, frosty air. "orion has culminated; and how splendidly it glows to-night, i think i never saw it so brilliant." "perhaps it appears so from the peculiar position whence you view it. you never observed it before from a wagon, in a broad prairie, with naught intervening between the constellation and yourself save illimitable space, though i agree with you in thinking it particularly splendid. i have ever regarded it as the most beautiful among the many constellations which girt the heavens." "i have often wondered if cygnus was not the favorite of papists, dr. bryant." "ah i it never occurred to me before, but, since you mention it, i doubt not they are partial to it. how many superstitious horrors are infused into childish brains by nurses and nursery traditions! i well remember with what terror i regarded the dolphin, or, in common parlance, 'job's coffin,' having been told that, when that wrathful cluster was on the meridian, some dreadful evil would most inevitably befall all who ventured to look upon it; and often, in my boyhood, i have covered my face with my hands, and asked its whereabouts. indeed i regarded it much as Æneas did orion, when he says: "'to that blest shore we steered our destined way, when sudden dire orion roused the sea! all charged with tempests rose the baleful star, and on our navy poured his watery war.' the contemplation of the starry heavens has ever exerted an elevating influence on my mind. in viewing its glories, i am borne far from the puerilities of earth, and my soul seeks a purer and more noble sphere." "your quotation from virgil recalled a passage in job--'seek him that maketh the seven stars and orion, and turneth the shadow of death into morning.' oh! how inimitably sublime is inspired language--and 'turneth the shadow of death into morning.' and how comforting the promise conveyed," said mary, earnestly. "miss irving, don't you admire cassiopeia very much?" said dr. bryant, wishing to turn the current of her thoughts. "i think it very beautiful, particularly when it occupies its present position, and, as it were, offers to weary travelers so inviting a seat. yet often i am strangely awed, in gazing on the group so enveloped in unfathomable mystery. who may say when another of its jewels shall flicker and go out? and when may not our own world to other planets be a 'lost star?' how childish associations cling to one in after years. i never looked up at cassiopeia, without recalling the time when my tutor gave me as a parsing lesson, the first lines of the 'task'--literally a task to me (mind i do not claim the last as original, for it is a plagiarism on somebody, i forget now who). my teacher first read the passage carefully over, explaining each idea intended to be conveyed, and at the conclusion turned to an assistant, and remarked that 'with cassiopeia for a model, he wondered chairs were not earlier constructed.' i wondered in silence what that hard word could signify, and at length summoned courage to ask an explanation. a few nights afterward, visiting at my father's, he took me out, pointed to the constellation, and gave the origin of the name, while, to my great joy, i discovered the resemblance to a chair. ah! that hour is as fresh in my memory as though i stood but last night by his side and listened to his teachings. "yes, who will deny the magic influence of association? after all, dr. bryant, it is not the intrinsic beauty of an object that affords us such delight, but ofttimes the memory of the happy past, so blended with the beauty viewed as scarcely to be analyzed in the soothing emotions which steal into the heart. such a night as this ever reminds me of the beautiful words of willis, in his 'contemplations;' and, like alethe, i often ask, 'when shall i gather my wings, and, like a rushing thought, stretch onward, star by star, up into heaven?'" a silence ensued for several moments, and then the cry of "water!" "water!" fell refreshingly on the ears of the wearied travelers, and the neighboring stream was hailed as joyfully as was in olden time the well of gem-gem. soon the tents were pitched, and a bright crackling fire kindled. florence, declaring she was too much fatigued for supper, threw herself on her pallet. aunt lizzy and mrs. carlton were busily unpacking some of their utensils, and mary, closely wrapt up, stood by the blazing logs, thinking how cheerful its ruddy light made every object seem, and wondering if, after all, the ghebers were so much to blame, mr. carlton joined her; and after inquiring how she bore their very fatiguing ride, remarked that in a few more days their journeyings would be over. "i shall almost regret its termination. this mode of traveling seems very pleasant to me, and you, who are strong and well, must enjoy it much more." just then the sound of approaching hoofs caused her to look toward their wagon; and she perceived two men mounted, one in the act of descending, while dr. bryant advanced quickly to meet him. mr. carlton left her. silently she looked on, wondering who the strangers could possibly be, when the words fell with startling distinctness on her listening ear: "dudley stewart! do my eyes deceive me?" "frank bryant is it possible i meet you here?" the tones of the last speaker were too familiar to be mistaken. she trembled from head to foot as the past rose before her. her first thought was of florence. "oh, if he is married, this meeting will be terrible!" and her heart throbbed violently as the gentlemen approached her. scarce conscious of her movements, she advanced to meet dr. bryant, whose arm was linked in that of the new comer. they met: the fire-light glowed on the face of both. "mr. stewart!" and the wasted hand was extended. "mary irving! or is this an illusion?" tightly the hand was clasped. "it is i----your old pupil, though so altered, i wonder not that you fail to recognize me." she lifted her eyes and met dr. bryant's gaze, deep and piercing, as though he were reading her inmost soul. mr. stewart looked long at the face turned toward him. "frank, you did not tell me she was with you! oh, how changed--how wasted you are! but what means this black dress?" and his fingers clutched her mourning gown, while his deep tone faltered. mary drew closer to his side, and murmured: "florry is well: but my uncle has been taken from us." her head sunk on her bosom as she spoke. "where is florence?" and he tightly clasped her hand between his own. a shudder crept over dr. bryant, who had not heard their words, and he walked quickly away. "florry is in the tent. mr. stewart, we heard that you were married; can this be true?" "no, no! did your cousin credit the report?" "yes; and ere you make yourself known, let me in some degree prepare her for the meeting." so saying, she sought florence, and asked if she were sleeping. "no, mary; can i do anything for you?" and she raised her head. "yes, florry, come with me--i want to speak to you." her cousin accompanied her to the door, and standing so that the tent intervened between them and mr. stewart, mary laid her hand on florence's shoulder, and said: "i have just learned, florry, that mr. stewart is not married." "mary, mary! why touch a chord which ever vibrates with the keenest agony? there is no happiness for me on earth--i have known that for long, and now i am striving to fix my thoughts, and all of hope that remains, on heaven." mary linked her arm in florence's, and gently drawing her forward, replied: "god has not promised heaven as the price of every earthly joy and comfort. can you not still hope for happiness?" "mary, i am parted forever from him whom i have loved so devotedly; yet i cease to repine. i know my lot, and i will pass through life alone, yes, alone, without a murmur." "not so, florence--my own treasured florence!" she turned quickly, and was clasped to the heart of him she had sworn to love alone. "am i dreaming?" said florence, gazing eagerly up into the noble face before her. he lifted his cap from his brow, and bent his head that the light might fall full upon it. a gleam of perfect joy irradiated her beautiful face, and, leaning her head on his shoulder, she whispered: "forgive me--for i doubted you." he bent, and sealed her pardon with a long kiss. mary stole away to mrs. carlton to impart the good news; dr. bryant had already communicated it. warmly she sympathized with them in again meeting an old friend; but mary heeded not her words, for her eyes were riveted on frank's stern brow and slightly curling lip. a mist rose before her, and catching for support at the tent, she would have fallen, had not his strong arm encircled her; and soon she lay motionless in her tent. he stood and looked on her a moment, then knelt and clasped the cold hands. mary had not swooned, though well-nigh insensible, and a low moan of anguish escaped her lips, colorless, and writhing with pain. "can i do nothing for you?" "no, thank you; only do not tell florry and mr. stewart i am ill. it would only damp the joy of their meeting." he left her, and met the lovers as they sought the remainder of the party. he understood at a glance the position of affairs, and with the sad conviction that mary loved mr. stewart, and loved him in vain, he strove to repress his emotion and appear as usual. florence withdrew her hand from mr. stewart's clasp, and, with a deep blush, passed frank in order to reach the tent. he placed himself before it. "miss hamilton, i can't allow any one to disturb your cousin; she is almost exhausted by our long ride, and i forbid all company, as she needs rest and quiet." "i will not disturb her in the least, i assure you, doctor." but he persisted, and she was forced to form one of the circle that now gathered round the fire. mr. stewart, in answer to dr. bryant's inquiries, replied that he had long felt anxious to visit san antonio, but had been detained at home by important business till within a few weeks, when he set out for austin, and obtaining there a sort of guide and companion, was hastening on, hoping to reach the former place ere the arrival of the mexican forces. "having heard," continued he, "that mr. hamilton's death left his family somewhat unprotected, i felt particularly anxious on their account. seeing your camp-fire, attracted us in this direction, and happy am i to meet so many old friends." to florence he had been far more explicit, detailing the causes which produced a most fortunate change in his circumstances, and his immediate determination to seek her in her western home. "you will return with us to washington then, stewart, as we possess the treasure you are in search of?" "yes, if none of the party offer any objection," replied he. "i don't know that any feel disposed to act so ungratefully: suppose we inquire however. miss hamilton, have you any objection to receiving, as an escort and protector, this amiable cavalier, who has wandered so far from home to offer his services?" "frank, it is hardly fair to make her speak for the party; some may differ with her, on so important a point." "you seem quite certain as to her sentiments on this subject. upon my word, miss florence, if i were you, i should most assuredly take this occasion to teach him a little humility; for instance, just tell him it makes no difference with you--that it is perfectly immaterial." "in following your advice, doctor, the responsibility will be inevitably transferred to yourself; and i must thank you for so politely relieving me." "i see no reason, stewart, why you should not join our party, and lend your assistance toward enlivening the tedious hours yet in store for us; though only a few more days of travel remain, thank heaven." "one would suppose, from the fear of ennui which seems to cloud your future, that mary and i had not succeeded so happily as we imagined, in our efforts to entertain you." "pardon me, miss florence, if i have failed duly to appreciate your kind efforts; though candor compels the avowal, that i was not aware any extraordinary exertion was made in my behalf." "really, frank, i should say you have made considerable progress in raising yourself in your own estimation since last i heard you converse. mrs. carlton, i am afraid this climate is unfavorable for the growth of at least two of the cardinal virtues." "your insinuation is contemptible, because utterly without grounds. miss florence, i appeal to you, as worthy the privilege of acting as umpire in this important discussion. have you ever observed aught in my conduct indicating a want of humility?" "unfortunately, doctor, should i return an answer in your favor, it would be at the expense of a virtue equally entitled to pre-eminence." "to the very candid miss hamilton, i must return thanks for her disinterested and very flattering decision." here the conversation was interrupted by a call to the evening meal, and gladly they obeyed the welcome summons. florence glancing round perceived the absence of her cousin, and inquired the cause. "i dare say she is asleep, poor child," said aunt lizzy. "she is trying to rest, miss hamilton, and i would not advise any interruption. she needs quiet, for she was sorely tried by this day's fatigues," observed dr. bryant. "i am afraid so," replied florence, an anxious look again settling on her face. "oh, i wish on her account we could reach a place of rest and safety. i fear she has failed in strength since leaving san antonio." "how sadly changed she has become: had she not spoken in her old, familiar tones, i should not have known her. i earnestly hope there is nothing serious in her attack, and that she will soon regain her former bloom; it pains me to see her so altered," said mr. stewart. "she cannot possibly improve while subjected to the fatigues of this journey. i feared she was scarce able to endure it," answered frank. the conversation turned on more agreeable topics, and soon--by all but frank, who could not forget her look of anguish--she was for a time forgotten. mary heard from her couch of suffering the cheerful blending of voices, though nothing distinct reached her ear; and as none approached to soothe her by affectionate inquiries, a sense of neglect stole over her. but too habitually accustomed to judge gently of others and forget herself, it passed quickly away. she knelt on her pallet, and clasping her thin hands, raised her heart to god, in the low, feeble tone of one well-nigh spent: "my god, thou readest my heart! thou knowest how, day by day, i have striven to love thee more and serve thee better. yet, oh, father of mercies! my soul is tortured with unutterable agony! oh! on the verge of the tomb, my heart still clings to earth and its joys. look down in thy mercy upon me, and help me to fix my thoughts on heaven and thee. for long i have known the vanity of my hope, and the deceitfulness of human things; yet i could not tear away the pleasing image, and turn to thee alone for comfort. oh, may peace be my portion the few days i have to live, and when death comes, be thou with me, my god, to comfort and take me soon to my home above." she sank back in very weariness. "oh, frank, how could you so mistake me?--you whom i have loved so long, how could you believe i loved another?" * * * * * in the clear sunny light of morning, how cheerful all things looked; and to a heart at peace with god, nature seemed rejoicing. the deep blue vault arching inimitably above--the musical murmuring of the creek, as it rushed along its rocky bed--the mosquit, bent and glittering with its frosty mantle, blended with the blazing camp-fire and the busy hum of preparation for the day, stole pleasingly into the heart. all the party, save mary, stood about the fire, warming their fingers and chatting on the various occurrences of their long journey. all paused to welcome the invalid, as she joined them with a slow, feeble step; yet she looked better than she had done since leaving her home. restlessly she had tossed on her hard couch, and now the hectic flush mantled the thin cheek and brightened the deep blue eyes. the warm congratulations of her friends on her improved appearance brought a sad smile to her lip, and the expression of dr. bryant's countenance told her that he at least realized her danger. never had florence looked more beautiful, as the clear cold air brought the glow to her cheek, added to the effect of her mourning dress and the expression of quiet happiness, imparting an indescribable charm to her lovely features. "as you now stand, miss florence, looking so earnestly toward the east, you seem to me a perfect realization of willis's jephtha's daughter: "'she stood before her father's gorgeous tent, to listen for his coming. her loose hair was resting on her shoulder, like a cloud floating around a statue, and the wind just swaying her light robe, revealed a shape praxiteles might worship: her countenance was radiant with love: she looked to die for it--a being whose whole existence was the pouring out of rich and deep affections.'" as he looked upon her these lines were uttered half unconsciously; and then turning to mary, he gently asked if he might speak what was passing in his mind. "certainly, frank--continue your quotation; the lines never seemed so beautiful before;" said mr. stewart, glancing at florence as he spoke. "doubtless not, stewart, because never so applied. miss hamilton, your cousin looks more as did the jewish maiden at close of evening: "'her face was pale, but very beautiful; her lip had a more delicate outline, and the tint was deeper. but her countenance was like the majesty of angels.'" "dr. bryant, is it possible you so far forget yourself and previously expressed opinions, as to make quotations? i thought you a sworn foe to the practise." "on ordinary occasions, i am: and you may rest assured it is the last time i commit such an absurdity by a camp fire. i think you once asked me my objection--will you hear it now? when i was quite young, i one day read an anecdote of the celebrated greek professor, dr. porson, which gave me a strong bias against quotations, particularly locating them, which necessarily follows. porson was once traveling in a stage-coach, when a young oxonian, fresh from college, was amusing some ladies with quite a variety of small talk, among other things a quotation from sophocles, as he said. a greek quotation in a stage-coach roused porson, who half slumbered in a quiet corner. 'young gentleman,' said he, 'i think you indulged us, just now, with a quotation from sophocles; i don't happen to remember it there.'--'oh, sir,' rejoined the tyro, 'the quotation is word for word, and in sophocles too.' the professor handed him a small edition of sophocles, and requested him to point out the passage. after rummaging about for some time, he replied: 'upon second thought the passage is in euripides.' 'then,' said porson, handing him a similar edition of euripides, 'perhaps you will be so kind as to find it for me in this little book.' our young gentleman returned unsuccessfully to the search, with the very pleasant cogitation of 'curse me, if ever i quote greek again in a stage-coach,' the tittering of the ladies increased his confusion, and desperate at last, he exclaimed--'bless me, how dull i am; i remember now perfectly that the passage is in Æschylus. the incorrigible professor dived again into his apparently bottomless pocket, and produced an edition of Æschylus; but the astounded oxonian exclaimed, 'stop the coach! halloa! coachman, let me out instantly; there is a fellow inside here that has got the whole bodleian library in his pocket. let me out, i say--it must be porson or the devil!' now previous to reading this anecdote, i must confess to quite a _penchant_ for quotations, but i assure you a full year elapsed ere i ventured on another; and for a long time the ghost of our gentleman appeared, specter-like, before me, whenever i attempted one." when the merriment subsided, mr. stewart asked if it was not of this same professor that a phrenologist remarked, on examining his skull, that "the most important question was, how the ideas found access to the brain--once inside, and there are very solid reasons to prevent their getting out again." "yes, the same. craniologists admit, i believe, that his was the thickest skull ever examined; and it is related that when he could no longer articulate english, he spoke greek with fluency." in a few moments the camp was broken up, and they proceeded on their way. mary cast a longing glance toward her horse, now mounted by one of the servants, and was taking her seat in the wagon, when dr. bryant said: "would you like to try your horse a little while this morning? if it proves too fatiguing, you can return to the wagon." "i should like it very much, if i felt strong enough, but i could not sit upright so long. doctor, will you be so kind as to ride my horse for me to-day, and let william drive?" "certainly, if you prefer it; but may i venture to ask your reason?" "you have long been separated from your friend, and naturally wish to be with him. do not, on my account, remain behind the party, as you are forced to do in driving the wagon, but join florence and mr. stewart, who seem in such fine spirits this beautiful morning. i feel too weary and feeble to talk, and william will take good care of me." he fixed his dark eyes mournfully on her face; she could not meet his gaze, and her head sunk upon her bosom. "believe me, miss irving, every other pleasure is second to that of watching over and being with you. if, in the proposed change, my feelings alone are to be consulted, allow me to remain with you." "thank you, dr. bryant, you are very kind to remember me so constantly; my only object was to promote your enjoyment of the day." they rode for some distance in silence. "this is my birthday; and how little i fancied, on the last anniversary, that i should be so situated," said dr. bryant, as though speaking unconsciously. "how one's feelings change with maturer years. i remember well that, in my childhood, the lapse of time seemed provokingly slow, and i wondered why, from year to year, it seemed so very long. the last three years of my life, though somewhat checkered, have flown too quickly away. a month ago, i would willingly have recalled them, but they are lost in the ocean of eternity, only to be remembered now as a changing, feverish dream," mary replied. "miss irving, without the benign and elevating influence of hope, that great actuating principle from the opening to the close of life, what a dreary blank our existence would prove. in childhood it gorgeously gilds the future; the tints fade as maturity gains that future, and then it gently brightens the evening of life, while memory flings her mantle of witchery over the past, recalling, in hours of sadness, all of joy to cheer the heart, and banishing forever the phantoms of terror--the seasons of gloom that once haunted us." "yes, how appropriately has the great bard of time, termed hope 'silver-tongued.' and then, its soothing accents are felt and acknowledged in the darkest hour of human trial. when about to sever every earthly tie--when on the eve of parting with every object rendered dear by nature and association--when the gloomy portals of the silent tomb open to receive us, then comes hope to paint the joys of heaven. our reunion with those we have loved and lost--perfect freedom from sin--the society of angels, and the spirits of the just made perfect; the presence of our saviour, and an everlasting home in the bosom of our god." a look of unutterable peace and joy settled on the face of mary as she finished speaking and sank back, her hands clasped, and her eyes raised as though in communion with the spirits above. dr. bryant's eyes rested with a sort of fascination on her countenance. "you have this hope; yes, already your soul turns from earth and its vanities to the pure, unfailing fount of heavenly joy. oh! that i, like you, could soon find peace and perfect happiness? i have striven against the bitter feelings which of late have crept into my heart; still, despite my efforts, they gather rapidly about me. i look forward, and feel sick at heart. turbid are all the streams of earthly pleasures, and fully now i realize those lines, which once seemed the essence of misanthropy-- 'i thought upon this hollow world, and all its hollow crew.' for a time i found delight in intellectual pursuits, but soon wearied of what failed to bring real comfort in hours of trial." "you need some employment to draw forth every faculty: in a life of active benevolence and usefulness, this will be supplied. do not give vent to feelings of satiety or ennui; your future should be bright--no dangers threaten, and many and important duties await you in life. god has so constituted us, that happiness alone springs from the faithful discharge of these. every earthly resource fails to bring contentment, unless accompanied by an active, trusting faith in god, and hope of blessedness in heaven. wealth, beauty, genius are as naught; and fame, that hollow, gilded bauble, brings not the promised delight, and an aching void remains in the embittered heart. one of our most talented authors, now seated on the pinnacle of fame, assures us that 'the sea of ambition is tempest tost, and your hopes may vanish like foam.' * * * * * 'the sun of fame but gilds the name, the heart ne'er felt its ray.' pardon me if i have ventured too far, or wounded your feelings: it was not my intention, and i have spoken half unconsciously." "thank you, miss irving, for your kind words of comfort and advice. fear not that ambition will lure me: i know its hollow, bitter wages, and cannot be deceived. yet there is a lonely feeling in my heart which i cannot dispel at will. still my plans for the future are sufficiently active to interest me; and i doubt not that a year hence i shall feel quite differently. if i could always have your counsel and sympathy, i should fear nothing." "in seasons of trial--in the hours of gloom and despondency--appeal to your sister for comfort. oh! she is far more capable of advising and cheering than i, who only echo her sentiments." mary pressed her hand to her side, and leaning back, closed her eyes, as if longing for rest. "i have drawn you on to converse more than was proper--forgive my thoughtlessness; and, if it would not be impossible, sleep, and be at rest." he carefully arranged her shawls, and as she lay a long while with closed eyes, he thought her sleeping, but turning, after a time, was surprised to perceive her gazing earnestly out on the beautiful country through which they now rode. chapter xxvi. "alas! how light a cause may move dissensions between hearts that love! hearts that the world in vain had tried, and sorrow but more closely tied; that stood the storm when waves were rough, yet in the sunny hour, fall off, like ships that have gone down at sea, when heaven was all tranquillity!" moore. "peace and quiet and rest for you at last!" cried dr. bryant, as they drove into the village of washington, and, by dint of much trouble and exertion, procured a small and comfortless house. but a bright fire soon blazed in the broad, deep, old-fashioned chimney--the windows and doors closed--their small stock of furniture and provisions unpacked, and a couch prepared for mary, now far too feeble to sit up. the members of the safe and happy party gathered about the hearth, and discussed hopefully their future prospects. dr. bryant raised his eyes to the somewhat insecure roof, through which the light of day occasionally stole in, and exclaimed: "'and doth a roof above me close?'" "not such a one as greeted mazeppa on regaining his senses, frank; rather insecure, 'tis true, yet somewhat better than the canvas covering for which we have been so grateful of late." dr. bryant leaned his elbow on the mantel-piece, and fell into a fit of musing, not unusual to him since leaving san antonio. the servant disturbed his reverie by requesting room for her cooking utensils. he raised his head as she spoke, and then, as if utterly unconscious, dropped it again, without reply. "a cigar for your thoughts, bryant!" said mr. stewart, and linking his arm in that of his friend they turned away. florence approached her cousin, and bending over the wasted form, asked if she were not already better. mary lifted her arms to her cousin's neck, and for a moment strove to press her to her heart, but strength had failed rapidly of late, and they sank wearily by her side. florence sat down and took both hands between hers. "tell me, dear, if you are in pain?" "no, florry, i do not suffer much now; i am at present free from all pain. i have not had an opportunity of talking with you for some time. florry, tell me, are you very happy?" "yes, mary, i am very happy--happier than i ever was before; and far more so than i deserve. oh! mary, how miserable i have been; and it is by contrast that the transition is so delightful. i doubted the goodness and mercy of god; and, in the bitterness of my heart, i asked why i had been created for so much suffering. oh, mary! my pure-hearted, angel cousin, how much of my present happiness i owe to you. suppose you had suffered me to wander on in the maze of darkness. at this moment i should have been a desolate, deluded, miserable nun; clinging to a religion which, instead of bible truths, filled the anxious, aching heart with monkish legends of unattested miracles, and in place of the pure worship of god, gives us mummeries nearer akin to pagan rites! i thank god that i am released from my thraldom. i see now the tissue of falsehood so plausible in which all things were wrapped. blackness and deceit in the garb of truth and purity! and it is horrible, to think that he who so led me astray claims to be my brother! mary, mary, how can i tell mr. stewart this?--tell him that i have wandered from the true faith--that i have knelt in confession to him who cursed our common father! he will despise me for my weakness: for only yesterday he said he first loved me for my clear insight into right and wrong, and my scorn of deceit and hypocrisy! yet i deceived you; at least, tacitly--you who have ever loved me so truly, you who have saved me at last, and pointed out the road to heaven. mary, forgive me! i never asked pardon of any on earth before, but i wronged you, good and gentle though you always were. forgive me, oh, my cousin!" mary clasped florence's hands in hers, and though too feeble to speak very audibly, replied: "florry, think not of the past; it has been very painful to us both, yet i thank god that you are right at last. you know how i love you: i would give every treasure of earth to contribute to your happiness; and now that you are so blest, listen to my counsel. florry, there is a cloud no bigger than a man's hand resting low on the horizon of your happiness--be warned in time. you know mr. stewart's firm, unwavering principals of protestantism; you know, too the aversion with which he regards the priests of rome; it may be a hard task now, but it will be tenfold more difficult a year hence. go to him at once, tell him you were misguided and deceived, and reveal every circumstance connected with that unhappy period. he will love you more for your candor. florry, you turn pale, as though unequal to the task. oh, my cousin, you prize his love more than truth; but the time will come when he will prize truth more than your love! florry, let me beg you tell him all, and at once." she sank back, as if exhausted by her effort in speaking so long, yet firmly retained florence's hand. "mary, if i do this, it is at the risk of losing his esteem, which i prize even more than his love. and after all, _i_ cannot see that truth or duty requires this humiliating confession. should he ever question me, i should scorn to deceive him, and at once should tell him all. but he does not suspect it, and _i_, being no longer in danger or blinded, need not reveal the past." mournfully mary regarded her beautiful cousin. "florry, if you conceal nothing now, he will esteem you more than ever for hazarding his love in the cause of truth. if, in after years, he discovers the past, he will tell you that, silently at least, you deceived him, and reproach you with want of candor and firmness. oh! there is a fearful risk to run; he will never place confidence in you again--be warned in time." the entrance of aunt lizzy and mrs. carlton prevented further conversation, and unclasping mary's fingers, florence disengaged her hand and left the room. two days passed in furnishing and arranging their new home, and mary saw but little of her cousin. as evening closed in again, the invalid watched from her couch the countenance of mr. stewart, as he sat earnestly conversing with her aunt. florence and mr. and mrs. carlton were out making some necessary purchases, and dr. bryant had been absent on business of his own since morning. "florence is too young to marry, or even dream of it, at present, mr. stewart; and besides, if i must be candid, i have always entertained different views for her." "pardon me, but i believe i scarcely comprehend your meaning. you speak of other views for her; may i venture to ask the nature of these?" "i have never expected her to marry at all, mr. stewart." "and why not, pray? what can you urge in favor of your wishes?" "i had her own words to that effect, scarce a month ago." a proud, happy smile played round his lips, and he replied: "she may have thought so then, but i think her views have changed." "but for mary, she would have been the same;" and a bitter look passed over her wrinkled face. "excuse me, if i ask an explanation of your enigmatical language; there is some hidden meaning, i well know." "mr. stewart, your mother and i are old friends, and i wish you well; but all good catholics love their church above every earthly thing. i should like to see florence happy, but her eternal good should first be secured; you are a protestant, and bitterly opposed to our holy church, and i cannot consent to see her marry a heretic, for such you are: she is too far astray already." "if your niece were herself a papist, your reason would indeed be a cogent one; but, under existing circumstances, i am puzzled to understand you." "were it not for mary's influence, florence would even now rest in the bosom of our holy church. she has done her cousin a grievous wrong; may god and the blessed virgin forgive her!" mary groaned in spirit, as she marked the stern glance of his eagle eye, and feebly raising herself, she said: "mr. stewart, will you take this seat beside the sofa? i wish to speak with you." aunt lizzy left the room hurriedly, as though she had already said too much, and silently he complied with mary's request. "you are pained and perplexed at what my aunt has just said; allow me to explain what may seem a great mystery. you are not aware that my uncle died a papist. weakened in body and mind by disease, he was sought and influenced in secret, when i little dreamed of such a change. on his death-bed he embraced the romish faith, and, as i have since learned, exacted from florry a promise to abide by the advice of his priest, in spiritual as well as temporal matters. he expired in the act of taking the sacrament, and our desolation of heart can be better imagined than described--left so utterly alone and unprotected, far from our relatives and the friends of our youth. i now marked a change in florry, though at a loss to account for it. an influence, secret as that exerted on her lost parent, was likewise successful and, to my grief and astonishment, i found that she too had embraced papacy." the door opened and florence entered. she started on seeing her lover, but advanced to them much as usual. he raised his head, and cold and stern was the glance he bent on her beautiful face. she stood beside him, and rising, he placed a chair for her in perfect silence. mary's heart ached, as she noted the marble paleness which overspread her cousin's cheek. mr. stewart folded his arms across his chest, and said in a low, stern, yet mournful tone: "florence, i could not have believed that you would have deceived me, as you have silently done." mournfully florence looked for a moment on mary's face, yet there was no reproach in her glance; it seemed but to say--"you have wakened me from my dream of happiness." she lifted proudly her head, and fixed her dark eye full on her lover. "explain yourself, mr. stewart; i have a right to know with what i am charged, though i almost scorn to refute that of deceit." "not a week since, florence, you heard me avow my dislike of the tenets and practises of the romish church. i said then, as now, that no strong-minded, intelligent woman of the present age could consult the page of history and then say that she conscientiously believed its doctrines to be pure and scriptural, or its practises in accordance with the teachings of our saviour. you tacitly concurred in my opinions. florence, did you tell me you had once held those doctrines in reverence? nay, that even now you lean to papacy?" stern was his tone, and cold and slightly contemptuous his glance. a bitter, scornful smile wreathed the lips of his betrothed. "i acknowledge neither the authority of questioning, nor allow the privilege of any on earth to impugn my motives or my actions. had i felt it incumbent on me to acquaint you with every circumstance of my past life, i should undoubtedly have done so, when you offered me your hand. i felt no obligation to that effect, and consequently consulted my own inclinations. if, for a moment, you had doubted me, or asked an explanation of the past, i should have scorned to dissemble with you; and now that the subject is broached you shall have the particulars, which, i assure you, have kept well, though, as you suppose, sometime withheld. i have been a member of the church of rome: i have prayed to saints and the virgin, counted beads and used holy water, and have knelt in confession to a priest of papal rome. i did all this, thinking, for a time, my salvation dependent on it. you know all now." mr. stewart regarded her sadly as she uttered these words, and his stern tone softened as he noticed her bloodless cheek and quivering lip. "florence, it is not your former belief or practise that gives me this pain, and saddens our future. if you were at this moment a professor of the romish faith, i would still cherish and trust you: i should strive to convince you of your error--to point out the fallacy of your hopes. when i recall the circumstances by which you were surrounded, and the influences exerted, i scarcely wonder that, for a time, you lent your credence and support. but, florence, full well you know that this is not what pains me. it is the consciousness that you have kept me in ignorance of what your own heart told you would show your momentary weakness, and led me to suppose you entertained a belief at variance with your practise. you have feared my displeasure more than the disregard of truth and candor. florence, florence! knowing how well i loved you, and what implicit confidence i reposed in you, how could you do this?" "again, mr. stewart, i repeat that i perceive no culpability in my conduct. had i felt it my duty, your love or indifference would not have weighed an atom in my decision to act according to my sense of right and wrong." he turned from her, and paced to and fro before the fire. florence would have left the room, but mary clasped her dress, and detained her. "mr. stewart, you have been too harsh and hasty in your decision, and too severe in your remarks. florry has not forfeited your love, though she acted imprudently. ask your own heart whether you would be willing to expose to her eye your every foible and weakness. for you, like all god's creatures, have faults of your own. is there nothing you have left untold relative to your past? oh! if you knew how deep and unutterable has been her love, even when she never again expected to meet you, you would forget this momentary weakness--a fault committed from the very intensity of her love, and fear lest she should sink in your estimation." "mary, if she had said, dudley, i have not always felt as now, and my mind was darkened for a time, i should have loved her, if possible, more than before, for her noble candor. my own heart would have told me, this is one in whom you may eternally trust, for she risked the forfeiture of your love in order that truth might be unsullied. how can i confide in one who values the esteem of man more than the approval of her own conscience? you have said her love was a palliation. no, you are wrong; it is an aggravation of her fault. she should have loved me too well to suffer me to discover by chance what should have been disclosed in confidence. mary, her love is not greater than mine. none know how i have cherished her memory--how i have kept her loved image in my heart during our long separation. i would give every earthly joy or possession to retain her affection, for it is dearer to me than everything beside, save truth, candor, and honesty. i have nothing to conceal from her; i would willingly bare my secret soul to her scrutiny. there is nothing i should wish to keep back, unless it be the pain of this hour." he paused by her side, and looked tenderly on the pale, yet lovely face of florence. "mr. stewart, shall one fault forever destroy your confidence in florry, when she has declared that had she thought it incumbent on her to speak of these things--if she had felt as you do, she asserts that nothing could have prevented her revealing every circumstance." "mary, i fear her code of morality is somewhat too lax; and the fact that she acknowledges no fault is far more painful than any other circumstance." "mary, i have omitted one thing which i wish him to know. i neglected to inform you, that the priest to whom i confessed is my half-brother! i have now told you all; and thinking as you do, it is better that in future we forget the past and be as strangers to each other. that i have loved you fervently, i can never forget--neither your assertion that i am unworthy of your confidence." she disengaged her dress from mary's clasp, and turned toward the door. mr. stewart caught her hand, and firmly held it. she struggled not to release herself, but lifted her dark eyes to his, and calmly met his earnest glance. "florence!" there was a mournful tenderness in the deep tone. her lip quivered, still her eyes fell not beneath his, piercing as an eagle's. "mr stewart, you have wronged her; you have been too severe." and mary clasped his hand tightly, and looked up appealingly. he withdrew his hand. "florence, this is a bitter, bitter hour to me. yet i may have judged too harshly: we will forget the past, and, in future, let no such cloud come between us." "not so, mr. stewart: if i am unworthy, how can you expect confidence from me? think you i will change the code which you just now pronounced too lax? oh! you know not what you have done. it is no light thing to tell a woman of my nature she is unworthy of the love she prized above every earthly thing!" her voice, despite her efforts, faltered. "florence, i have been too severe in my language, and you too proud and haughty. full well we know that without the love of each other life would be joyless to both. ours is not a common love; and again i say, let us forget the past, while, in future, need i ask you to keep nothing from me?" he drew her to him as he spoke, and passing his arm round her, pressed her to his heart. a long time florence hid her head on his shoulder, as if struggling with her emotion, and then a heavy sob relieved her troubled heart. closer he clasped her to him, and, laying his cheek on hers, murmured: "my own darling florence, forgive me, if i misjudged you; tell me that you will not remember my words--that this hour shall be to us a painful dream," she withdrew from his embrace, and, lifting her head, replied: "i was wrong to doubt your love, or believe that you would think long of my weakness; but i am innocent of the charge of dissimulation, and never let us recur to the past" she held out her hand, and clasping it in his, mr. stewart led her away. an hour later mary lay with closed eyes, too weary, from overexcitement, even to look about her. all had left the room, and a dim light from the hearth just faintly lighted the large, comfortless apartment. with noiseless step dr. bryant entered, and seating himself in the vacant chair, near mary's sofa, bent forward that he might look on the wan face of the sufferer. his heart ached as he noted the painful alteration of the last week, and gently and softly he took one of the thin white hands between his own. it was cold and damp, and, while he pressed it, the dark blue eyes rested earnestly on his face. "i hoped you were sleeping, did i wake you?" and he laid the hand back, as she strove to withdraw it. "no, i have not slept since morning." "oh! i am troubled at your constant suffering; is there anything i can do for you?" "no, thank you, doctor, i wish nothing." "all my arrangements are completed, and to-morrow i return to your home. can i deliver any message, or execute any commission?" for a moment, mary closed her eyes, then replied in a low voice: "if you should see inez, tell her to remember my gift at parting, and thank her, in my name, for her many, many kindnesses." she paused, as if gathering courage to say something more. "and tell her, too, that ere many hours i shall be at rest. tell her i have no fear, nay more, that i have great hope, and that heaven is opening for me. let her prepare to join me, where there is no sorrow nor parting." there was a silence, as if each were communing with their own hearts. "you go to-morrow, dr. bryant? then you will not stay to see me die? i am failing fast, and when you return, i shall have gone to that bourne whence no traveler comes back to tell the tale. let me thank you now, for your unvarying kindness; many have been your services, and a brother's care has ever followed me. thank you; i appreciate your kindness, and earnest and heartfelt is my prayer that you may be very happy and blest on earth; and when you, too, come to die, may your end be like mine--free from all fear, and may hope and joy attend your last moments!" her breathing grew short, and large drops stood on her pure beautiful brow. he had bent his head upon his bosom while she spoke, but now he raised it, and, taking her hand, clasped it warmly. "mary, mary, if you knew what torture you inflicted, you would spare me this!" it was the first time he had called her mary, and her pale lip quivered. "forgive me, if i cause you pain!" bending forward, he continued, in a tone of touching sadness--"i had determined, mary, to keep my grief locked in my own heart, and never to let words of love pass my lips. but the thought of parting with you forever is more than i can bear. oh! mary, have you not seen for weeks and months how i have loved you? long ago, when first we met, a deep, unutterable love stole into my heart. i fancied for a time that you returned it, till the evening we met at my sister's, and you spoke with such indifference of leaving me behind. i saw then i had flattered myself falsely; that you entertained none save friendly feelings toward me. still, i thought in time you might learn to regard me with warmer sentiments. so i hoped on till the evening of our last ride, when your agitation led me to suppose you loved another. i saw you meet mr. stewart, and was confirmed in my supposition. i gave up all hope of ever winning your affection in return. now i see my error in believing for a moment that you felt otherwise to him than as a brother, as the betrothed of your cousin. i know that you have never loved him, and pardon my error. when i sought you just now, it was to say good-by, and in absence and varied and exciting pursuits to shut out from my heart the memory of my hopes and fears. mary, your words fill me with inexpressible anguish! oh, you cannot know how blank and dreary earth will seem when you are gone! i shall have no hope, no incitement, no joy!" as she listened to this confession, which a month before would have brought the glow to her cheek and sparkle to her eye, she felt that it came too late; still a perfect joy stole into her heart. she turned her face toward him, and gently said: "i am dying; and, feeling as i do, that few hours are allotted me, i shall not hesitate to speak freely and candidly. some might think me deviating from the delicacy of my sex; but, under the circumstances, i feel that i am not. i have loved you long, and to know that my love is returned, is a source of deep and unutterable joy to me. you were indeed wrong to suppose i ever regarded mr. stewart otherwise than as florry's future husband. i have never loved but one." "mary, can it be possible that you have loved me, when i fancied, of late, that indifference, and even dislike, nestled in your heart? we shall yet be happy! i thank god that we shall be so blest!" and he pressed the thin hand to his lips. "do not deceive yourself. your confession has come too late. i can never be yours, for the hand of death is already laid upon me, and my spirit will wing its way, ere long, home to god. now that we understand each other, and while i yet live, let us be as calm, as happy as the circumstances allow. it may seem hard that i should be taken when the future appears so bright, but i do not repine, neither must you. god, ever good and merciful, sees that it is best i should go, and we will not embitter the few hours left us by vain regrets." too feeble to speak more, she closed her eyes, while her breathing grew painfully short. dr bryant bent forward, and gently lifting her head, supported her with his strong arm, and stroked off from her beautiful brow the clustering hair. a long time she lay motionless, with closed eyes, and bending his head, he pressed a long kiss on the delicately-chiseled lips. "o god! spare me my gentle angel mary," he murmured, as looking on the wan, yet lovely face, he felt that to yield her up was more than he could bear. at this moment mrs. carlton entered: he held out his hand, and drawing her to his side, said, in a deep, tender tone: "she is mine now, sister; thank god, that at last i have won her, and pray with me that she may be spared to us both." fervently she pressed his hand, and a tear rolled down and dropped upon it, as she bent down to kiss the sufferer. gently he put her back. "she is wearied, and just fallen asleep; do not wake her." he carefully depressed his arm that she might rest more easily. mrs. carlton seated herself beside her brother, and whispered: "you will not go to-morrow, frank?" "no, no; i will not leave her a moment. ellen, does she seem very much thinner since leaving home? i know she is very pale." "yes, frank; she is fearfully changed within the last week." "oh, ellen! if she should be taken from me;" and closer he drew his arm, as though fearing some unseen danger. "we must look to heaven for her restoration, and god is good," answered his sister, turning away to conceal her tears. chapter xxvii. "ah! whence yon glare that fires the arch of heaven?--that dark red smoke blotting the silver moon?... hark to that roar whose swift and deafening peals, in countless echoes, through the mountains ring, startling pale midnight on her starry throne! * * * * * loud and more loud, the discord grows, till pale death shuts the scene, and o'er the conqueror and the conquered draws his cold and bloody shroud." shelley. the th of march rose dark and lowering, and all nature wore an aspect meet for the horrors which that day chronicled in the page of history. toward noon the dense leaden cloud floated off, as though the uncertainty which veiled the future had suddenly been lifted--the crisis had come. santa anna and his bloodthirsty horde, rendered more savage by the recollection of the th december, poured out the vial of their wrath on the doomed town. oh! san antonio, thou art too beautiful for strife and discord to mar thy quiet loveliness. yet the fiery breath of desolating war swept rudely o'er thee, and, alas! thou wast sorely scathed. a second time the ill-fated fortress was fiercely charged. long it withstood the terrible shock, and the overwhelming thousands that so madly pressed its gray, moldering walls. the sun went down as it were in a sea of blood, its lurid light, gleaming ominously on the pale, damp brows of the doomed garrison. black clouds rolled up and veiled the heavens in gloom. night closed prematurely in with fitful gusts, mingling the moans and strife of nature with the roar of artillery. still the fury of the onset abated not: the alamo shook to its firm basis. despairingly the noble band raised their eyes to the blackened sky. "god help us!" a howling blast swept by, lost in the deep muttering of the cannonade. then a deep voice rung clearly out, high above the surrounding din: "comrades, we are lost! let us die like brave men!" the shriek of departing hope was echoed back by the sullen groan of despair. travis fell, fighting at the entrance. as the hero sank upon the glory floor, there was a pause; friend and foe gazed upon the noble form! his spirit sprung up to meet his god. "on, comrades! travis has fallen! dearly will we die!" one hundred and fifty brave hearts poured out their life-blood by his motionless form, struck down like sheep in the slaughter-pen. but seven remained: in despair they gazed on the ruin around, reeling from exhaustion and slipping in gore. there was borne on the midnight air a faint, feeble cry: "quarter! quarter!" alas! brave hearts, the appeal was lost, for an incarnate demon led the thirsty band. with a fiendish yell it was answered back, "no quarter!" and ye seven were stretched beside your fearless, noble travis. not a living texan remained. the stiffening forms, grim in death, returned not even a groan to the wild shout of triumph that rung so mockingly though the deserted chambers of the slaughter-house. victory declared for the wily tyrant--the black-hearted santa anna. complete was the desolation which reigned around: there was none to oppose--no not one; and the alamo was his again! oh, death! thou art insatiate! hundreds had yielded to thy call, and followed the beckoning of thy relentless hand: and still another must swell thy specter host, and join the shadowy band of the spirit world! for three days don garcia lay motionless on his couch of pain; even utterance was denied him, for paralysis had stretched forth her numb, stiffening finger, and touched him, even while he stood in the busy haunts of men. all day the din of battle had sounded in his ear; inez from time to time stole from his side, and looked out toward the fortress, dimly seen through the sulphurous cloud of smoke and the blaze of artillery. in the silent watches of the night, the shout of "victory!" was borne on by the blast. "my father, the alamo is taken--santa anna has conquered!" he struggled fearfully, a gurgling sound alone passed his lips, and he fell back lifeless on his pillow. calmly the girl bent down and closed the eyes, covered decently the convulsed features, and then, shrouding her face with the mantilla, stept forth for assistance. the next day saw the don borne to his last resting-place. in accordance with the custom of the nation, no female followed the bier. it was borne by two men, and followed by some dozen children, and perhaps as many aged mexicans. while just in advance strode the padre, repeating the latin service for the dead, and attended by four boys--two bearing censers, one a cross, and the other holy water. with indecent haste they pressed forward, passing through the church, and resting the bier for a moment on the altar, while an ave maria was repeated. at a sign from the padre, the procession moved on to the churchyard, and, without further ceremony, the body deposited in consecrated ground. holy water was sprinkled profusedly around, and then all departed, leaving him to sleep undisturbed the last dreamless sleep. night found inez sitting alone by her dreary, deserted hearth. father, mother, sister, cousin, all had passed on before her; and the last of her house, she mused in her lonely home. a faint fire flickering on the hearth just revealed the form and face of the mexican maiden. her mantilla lay on the floor beside her, the black hair, thick and straight, hung to the waist, her brilliant, piercing eyes were bent vacantly on the fire, her dark cheek perfectly colorless as clay. "who is there to care for inez now? who will smooth my pillow, and close my eyes, and lay me to rest?" her desolation of heart conquered; her head sunk upon her bosom, and a deep, bitter groan burst from her lips. slowly she rocked herself to and fro in the loneliness of her spirit. she had not loved her father warmly; there was little congeniality between them, and her hasty rejection of mañuel's suit mutually embittered their intercourse. for nevarro, a sort of sisterly feeling was entertained, no warmer affection. yet she could love intensely. a little sister had waked her tenderness--her heart clung to the gentle child, so unlike herself. she sickened, and in a day went down to the tomb: bitter was the grief of inez, who felt little for her mother, and soon she too took her place in the churchyard. dr. bryant came, and again inez loved--again she was disappointed; and now she sat alone in the wide world, without one remaining tie to bind the future. the hour of bitterness had come. she looked upon that dreary future and her utter desolation, and no gleam of hope stole to her darkened soul. an almost vacant expression settled on the dark countenance of the once beautiful maiden. softly the door was pushed ajar, and the form of the padre stood within. by instinct she seemed aware of his entrance, for raising her bowed head, the black sparkling eyes flashed, and the broad brow wrinkled into a frown dark as night. he approached her, and they stood face to face upon the hearth. "what do you here, in the house of death, mio padre?" "inez, my queen of beauty, i have come to take the prize for which i toiled. there are none now between us, no, not one. you need not draw back so proudly." a bitter, contemptuous laugh rung out on the night air, and inez folded her arms upon her bosom. "truly, padre, we are well mated! you have opposed me, and i thwarted you! i am your equal: think you to intimidate me with threats? you should know better!" "inez, listen! i leave this place before many days. my work is finished here; there are none to oppose, and i go elsewhere. to mexico first, and then to italy. you must go with me, my proud beauty! i cannot leave you here!" again inez laughed her mocking laugh. "go with you, mio padre! no, no; i must decline the honor. the hour of settlement has come! alphonso mazzolin, for long you have plotted my destruction; and one by one removed every obstacle in your way, and smoothed my path to ruin! i have known this--silently i have watched you maneuver. you counseled mañuel; you flattered him, encouraged his hasty course and overbearing manner, and caused the rupture between us. you knew my nature, and foresaw the result. you thought to secure me within the walls of yonder gloomy convent, and hoped that in time my broad lands would bless and enrich your holy church! but, padre, i did not fancy the home prepared for me in san jose. i promised to comply with my father's wish, and fulfil the engagement, much to your surprise and chagrin. padre, i would have married mañuel, sooner than second your plans. i, too, foresaw the tempest that even now howls over us. it was my only hope, and i said, who may predict the chances of war? the americans may yet number the most here, and then your power will be at an end. seemingly i was passive, but you are thwarted. we stand face to face, and i scorn you, incarnate devil as you are. how dared you do as you have done? mine eyes are opened--you can no longer deceive me with your lying legends and the marvelous traditions of your country. i tell you, i hate you with an everlasting hate. you have led me far from god, if there be a god, and may my curse follow you, even to your grave!" fiercely the glowing face was bent upon him. hate, scorn, bitterness of heart, and utter desolation mingled strangely in the withering glance. the padre seized her arm, and hoarsely exclaimed: "we know each other now: no matter, you cannot escape me: if force be necessary to take you hence, i can command it at any moment. you know full well my word is law; resist not, nor further rouse me--there is no help for you save in submission. i will not leave you." "ere i follow you hence, yonder river shall close over my body. i tell you now i will not accompany you." he stepped to the door and whistled faintly. the next moment a black-browed soldier stood before them. "herrara, she has broken her promise--she refuses to enter a convent, and she defies me, and scorns our holy church. i somehow expected this; and i charge you now, suffer her not to pass the threshold of her own room; guard well the door, there is no window. see you, inez, you cannot escape me?" he whispered in the intruder's ear, and, promising to come again the ensuing day, left the house, carefully closing the door after him. lighting his cigarrita, herrara requested inez to seek her own apartment, that he might secure the door outside, and then return to the fire. without a word she ascended the stairs to her own room. a chain was passed about the door, and then the retreating steps of the soldier died away. what should she do? inez sat down to collect her thoughts, and looked round the apartment. the walls were of solid rock, and in one corner was a small grating of four iron bars, which admitted light and air, but precluded all hope of escape in that quarter. the door was secured, and no means of egress presented itself. her eye rested on her lamp, and a smile lit up the dark countenance of the prisoner. she threw herself on her bed: slowly the hours rolled--midnight came at last. she rose and listened--no stir, no sound of life reached her: she glanced at her lamp, now dim--the light was waning, and softly stepping across the room, she drew from a basket several bundles of paper. these she tore in pieces, and placing them beside the door, drew the lamp near. inez carefully twisted up her long black hair, and placed on her head a broad sombrero, which the don had worn of late; then taking his mexican blanket, she slipped her head through the opening, and suffered it to fall to her feet. something seemed forgotten, and after some little search, she found a small cotton bag, into which she dropped a polonce, then secured it beneath the blanket. queerly enough she looked, thus accoutered; but apparently the oddity of her appearance never once crossed her mind, for, stepping across the floor, she held the pieces of paper over the lamp till ignited, then quickly thrust them one by one between the small crack or chink in the center of the door. it was of wood, old and dry, and caught like tinder. she watched it burn; the door was narrow, and the devouring element soon consumed all save the top and bottom pieces which extended across. these quivered as their support crumbled beneath them, and soon would fall with a crash. she watched her time, and gathering dress and blanket closely about her, sprang through, and though almost suffocated with smoke, hurried down to a small door at the rear of the house. she stood without and listened: inez fancied she heard the crackling of the fire, yet there was no time to lose. just before her sat a large stone vessel, containing the soaking corn for the morning tortillos; drawing forth her bag, she filled it with the swollen grain, and hastened on to where a small black horse was lassoed, having his hay scattered on the ground beside him. it was but the work of a moment to throw on and fasten her father's saddle, which hung on a neighboring tree, and loosing the hair lariat, she patted the pony she had often ridden on st. ----'s day, and sprang into the seat. slowly she passed through the narrow yard, and entered the street; pausing, she glanced up at her window, and perceived through the grating the blaze and smoke now filling the vacant room. distinctly the clank of the chain fell on her ear, and turning into an alley, she galloped away. inez knew it would be impossible to pass over the bridge, and down the alameda without detection, for seven hundred mexican troops were stationed on the outskirts of the town; and, with the celerity of thought, she directed her way in the opposite direction, toward a shallow portion of the river, occasionally used as a ford. happily the distance was short; and urging her somewhat unwilling horse, she plunged in. the moon rose full and bright as she reached the opposite bank; and pausing a moment, she looked back upon the sleeping town. no sound of life fell on her ear; and avoiding the beaten track, she turned her horse out on the grass, and hastened on toward the east, directing her course so as to pass beyond the powder-house, which was dimly seen in the distance. at a quick canter it was soon passed, and she pressed on to the salado, some three miles distant. full well she knew she would be sought for when morning dawned; and with such speed she almost flew on, that sunrise found her many miles from her home, inez was fearless, or she would never have dared to undertake what lay before her. alone, unprotected, in the guise of a man, without possessing his ordinary means of defense, there was much to risk; for indian depredations were frequent, and she must traverse a wide waste of almost interminable length ere reaching any settlement. when the sunbeams played joyously about her inez stopped to rest, and eating a few grains of her treasured corn, she allowed her horse to graze a short time along the margin of a stream, where the grass was tender and abundant; and then remounting, rode on somewhat more leisurely than she had previously done. chapter xxviii. "to die, is landing on some silent shore, where billows never beat nor tempests roar!" garth. since morning, mary had lain in the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion: and now the leafless boughs, which waved to and fro before her window, threw long shadows athwart the wall and across the deserted yard. evening was creeping slowly on. over the wan, yet lovely face of the sleeper had come a gradual change--agonizing, yet indescribable. it ever appears when death approaches to claim his victim, and it seems as though the shadow cast by his black pinions. mary opened her eyes and looked silently on the sad group which clustered around her couch. mr. stewart, alone able to command his voice, asked if she was not better, as she had slept so gently. "all is well, mr. stewart--i have no pain;" and her eye again rested on florence. long was the look, and full of deep, unutterable tenderness. feebly she extended her hand. "florry!" her cousin knelt beside her, and buried her face in her hands. mary laid hers on the bowed head. "dear florry, i have little time to stay. do not sadden this last hour with vain regrets. ah! my cousin, i thank god that you will be so happy. when you miss me from your side you will feel lonely enough, and your heart will ache for me again. yet, though bodily absent, i shall not be far away, florry. my spirit will hover round the loved ones i leave on earth. your dead, forming an angel-guard, will ever linger about your earthly path, and in the hour like this will bear up your spirit to god. think not of me as resting in the silent grave. i shall not be there, but ever near you. i do not say, try to forget me, and fix your thoughts on other things. oh! i beg you to think of me often, and of our glorious reunion in heaven! florry, there is one thing which will stand between you and me. my dear cousin, conquer your pride, cast away your haughtiness, and learn to lean on god, and walk in accordance with his law. oh! who would exchange the hope of a christian for all that worlds could offer? one may pass through life, and do without it; but in the hour of death its claim is imperatively urged, and none can go down to the tomb in peace without it. florry, you said last night it was hard that i should die. i am not merely reconciled, but i am happy! earth looks very bright and joyous, and if i might stay, my future is attractive indeed. yet i know that for some good end i am taken, and what seems to you so hard, is but a blessing in disguise. oh! then, when you are summoned away, may you feel, as i now do, that the arms of your god are outstretched to receive you." she held out her hand to mr. stewart, who stood beside her: he clasped it in his. "cherish florry, and let no shadow come between you. it gives me inexpressible joy to know that when i am gone you will be near to love and to guide her." "we will comfort and guide each other, dear mary, and oh! i pray god that we may be enabled to join you in that land of rest to which you are hastening." he fervently kissed the thin white hand he held, and then gently raised florence. mary lifted her arms feebly, and they clasped each other in a long, last embrace. "mary, my angel cousin, i cannot give you up. oh! i have never prized you as i ought. who will love me as you have done?" "hush, florry!" whispered the sinking voice of the sufferer. "i am very, very happy--kiss me, and say good-by." gently dr. bryant took florence from her cousin, and then each in turn, mrs. carlton and aunt lizzy, bent over her; as the latter turned away, mary took her hand, and drawing her down, murmured: "my dear aunt, forgive what may have pained you in my past life. we have differed on many points, but we both know there is one god. ah! aunt, in his kingdom may we soon meet again: think of me often, dear aunt. when i am gone you will be very lonely, but only for a short period are we separated." dr. bryant elevated her pillow that she might rest more easily. she lifted her eyes to his pale face. "frank, will you turn the sofa that i may see the sun set once more?" he moved it to the west window, and drew aside the curtain that the golden beams might enter: she could not look out, for the sofa was low, and sitting down beside her, he passed his arm around her, and lifted her head to his bosom. for a time she looked out on the brilliant hues of the setting sun, now just visible above the tree tops. slowly it sank, then disappeared forever to her vision. once dr. bryant had seen her lips move, as in prayer; now the deep blue eyes were again raised to the loved face bending over her. "long ago, i prayed to god that i might fade away gently, and die a painless death. he has granted my petition. all things seem very calm and beautiful--earth ne'er looked so like heaven before; yet how insignificant in comparison with the glories which await me. frank, if aught could draw me back, and make me loth to leave this world, it would be my love for you. life would be so bright passed by your side. you know the depth of my love, yet i may not remain. frank, tell me that you can give me up for a little while. oh! can you not say, 'god's will-be done?'" "mary, it is a terrible trial to yield you up, when i looked forward so joyously to the future. it is hard to think of the long, long dreary years that are to come, and know that you will not be near me; that i cannot see your face, or hear your loved tones. oh, mary, you know not the bitterness of this hour; yet i can say god's will be done, for i have conquered my own heart, but every earthly joy and hope has passed away. to our reunion i must ever look as my only comfort, and i pray god that it may be speedy." he bent his head till his lips rested on the white brow, now damp in death. wearily she turned her face toward his; he clasped the wasted form tightly to his heart, and kissed the pale lips; her fingers clasped his hand gently, and she whispered, "good-by!" "good-by, my darling mary!--my own angel one, good-by!" again he pressed his lips to hers, and then rested her head more easily upon his arm. the eyes closed, and those who stood watching her low, irregular breathing, fancied she slept again. one arm was around her, while the other supported the drooping head. her beautiful brown hair fell over his arm, and left exposed the colorless face. she was wasted, yet beautiful in its perfect peace and joy was the expression which rested on her features. dr. bryant, leaning his noble brow on hers, felt her spirit pass away in the last sigh which escaped her lips. yet he did not lift his head. cold as marble grew the white fingers which lingered in his, still he clasped her tightly. he sat with closed eyes, communing with his own saddened heart; he was stilling the agony which welled up, and casting forth the bitterness which mingled darkly with his grief, and he said unto his tortured soul: "be still! my treasure is laid up in heaven." he lifted the hair from his arm, and gently drew his hand from hers; yet, save for the icy coldness of her brow, none would have known that the soul which lent such gentle loveliness to the countenance had flown home to god. dr. bryant pressed a last kiss on the closed eyes and marble brow, softly laid her on her pillow, and left the room. chapter xxix. "all things are dark to sorrow," and the very repose and beauty of nature seem to the aching heart a mockery. no violent bursts of grief had followed mary's death, for so peaceful and painless was her end, it was scarce allowable. yet now that she had been consigned to the quiet grave, a dreary sense of loneliness and desolation crept to the hearts of the saddened group. they stood assembled at the door of their new home, to bid adieu to dr. bryant. in vain had been his sister's tears and entreaties, and mr. carlton's expostulations. florence had clasped his hand, and asked in trembling accents, why he left them in their sorrow, and mr. stewart implored him not to seek death on the battlefield. firm in his purpose, naught availed. he stood upon the step ready to depart; his noble face was very pale, and grief had touched with saddening finger every lineament. yet his tone and mien were calm as usual. "my dear sister," said he, "in times like these a man should first regard duty--the laws and precepts of his god! then the claims of his suffering country; and lastly, the ties of nature and the tenderer feelings of his heart. ellen, think how many have torn themselves from weeping wives and clinging children, and cast their warm love far from them. the call to patriots is imperative. i have now nothing to detain me here: it is my duty to lend my arm toward supporting our common liberty. do not fear for me, ellen, my dear sister; remember that the strong arm of all-seeing god is ever around us, to guard in time of danger!" he clasped her tenderly to his heart, then placed her in her husband's arms. "florence, if not again in texas, i hope we shall soon meet, in more peaceful hours, in louisiana; if not, i pray god that you and stewart may be as happy as i once hoped to be." he pressed her hand warmly, and returning the long, tight clasp of mr. stewart, mounted his horse and rode slowly away. "mother," said elliot, "uncle frank has not taken the right road toward home." "hush, elliot!" she sadly answered, while her tears gushed anew; "he has gone by his mary's grave." on that hour, spent at the early tomb of the "loved and lost" mary, we will not intrude: it is rendered sacred by its deep, unutterable anguish. nearly a week passed, and dr. bryant had hurried on, riding through the long, long nights, and only pausing at times to recruit his jaded steed. he had arrived at within two days' ride of san antonio, and too wearied to proceed, stopped as night closed in, and picketing his horse wrapped his cloak about him, and threw himself under a large spreading oak to rest, and, if possible, to sleep. an hour passed on: still he lay looking up to the brilliant sky above. perfect quiet reigned around, and he felt soothed inexpressibly. overcome with fatigue, sleep stole on, and momentary oblivion of the past was granted. he was startled from his slumber by the neighing of his horse; and rising lightly, drew forth his pistols, cocked one, and turned in the direction whence came the sound of approaching hoofs. the neighing was answered by the advancing steed, and soon the figure of both rider and horse was dimly seen; for the moon was not yet risen, and the pale light of the stars but faintly assisted the vision. "who comes there?" asked dr. bryant, throwing off his cloak, and stepping up to the stranger. "a peaceful mexican, in search of cows, and some twenty sheep which strayed away. i think, from your voice, you are an americano. i am friendly to your people--you will not molest me, and i will not harm you." "my friend, i rather doubt your word. these are stormy times for a man to venture out in search of cattle, so far from san antonio.". "i could tell you a piece of news that would satisfy you that i run less risk than yourself. but, stranger, it's not civil to doubt a man's word, and make him an enemy whether he will or not." "i am willing to receive your proffered proof of sincerity, and hope to find you unlike your fickle nation. come, tell the news which sanctions this long ramble of yours. these are dark days, and it becomes every man to look well to his own safety, and likewise watch his neighbor's movements." "i will do you a kindness, stranger; turn your horse's head, and let moonrise find you where you drank water at noon. san antonio is no place for americans now. santa anna has taken the alamo; and every one of your people lie low. not one was spared to carry the tale to austin--no, not one!" dr. bryant groaned in spirit, and his extended arm sunk to his side. "oh god! hast thou forsaken us? surely thou wilt yet listen to the voice of justice and liberty," he murmured to himself, and there was a pause. "how long since the ill-fated alamo fell?" he inquired. "five days ago. hintzilopotchli came down and held his bloody feast, and cut off many brave men." "by what force was the fortress assaulted?" "seven thousand men, led by the great and victorious santa anna. not long lasted the strife: we were too many for your people, and the fight was short." "and was our noble travis slaughtered with his brave band?" "he was too brave to live. think you he would survive his comrades? no! he fell first, and then all followed." "will santa anna march to austin, think you; or, content with victory, remain in your town?" "truly you give me credit for few brains and a woman's tongue. i have told you one true tale, can you expect another from a fickle mexican? i tell you now, stranger, push me not too closely, if you would hear what is good for you." "your voice sounds strangely familiar; yet i cannot recognize it sufficiently to know with whom i am speaking. if, as you declare, friendly to our people, you will not object to giving your name. perhaps i have known you in san antonio." "we mexicans can tell a friend across the prairie--but no matter. i am thinking we be strangers, yet i am not ashamed of my name. they call me antoine amedo--did you ever hear of such an 'hombre?' my ranche is just below the mission san jose, and i have large flocks of sheep and cattle." "antoine amedo," repeated dr. bryant, musingly, and striving, through the gloom, to scan his features. "you are right; i do not know you, though your voice is familiar." "if you have no objection, señor americano, i will let my horse picket awhile, and rest myself; for i have ridden many miles since sunrise, and not a blessed 'barego' have i smelled." "you are at liberty to rest as long as you please: consult your own inclinations." and he turned away to his own horse, yet marked that the newcomer dismounted with some difficulty. he changed his own picket, that fresh grass might not be wanting; and returning to the tree, leaned against its huge body, and watched the movements of the intruder. they were very slow, as if he were well-nigh spent with overexertion. he took off his broad hat, smoothed his hair, then replaced it; adjusted his heavy blanket more comfortably, and drawing forth a sort of wallet, proceeded to satisfy the cravings of hunger. he ate but little, and returning the bag or sack to its hiding-place in the broad girdle which was passed about his waist beneath the blanket, stretched himself on the ground, with not even a straggling bough between him and the deep blue vault of heaven. no sound broke the silence, save the cropping of the horses as they grazed near; and, seeking again his grassy couch, dr. bryant closed his eyes, and communed with his own heart. sleep was now impossible, and he lay so rapt in thought, that time flew on unheeded. the moon was shining brightly now, and every object was distinctly seen. he heard the rustling of leaves and the crush of grass. a moment he opened his eyes, then closed them, and feigned sleep. the mexican had risen, and softly approaching the motionless form, knelt on the ground beside him, and listened to his breathing. it was low and regular, as one in quiet slumber. he bent and gazed into the upturned face--not a muscle quivered or a feature moved. stealthily a hand crept round the collar of the cloak, and lifted a heavy lock of the raven hair. smoothing it out on the grass, he drew forth a crooked blade, which, in accordance with the custom of his countrymen, ever hung in the girdle passed about the waist. it glittered in the moonlight; and with dexterous hand he cut the lock of hair: then, returning the knife to its resting-place, rose, and noiselessly retreating to his former position, some yards distant, threw himself down to sleep. dr. bryant, fully conscious of every movement, determined, if possible, to solve this mystery. his pistols were in readiness, and, had violence been attempted, he would have sprung to his feet and defended himself. he waited awhile, then turned, stretched, yawned, and finally rose up. he drew out his watch, the hand pointed to two. he wound it up, and drawing his cap closer about his ears, for the night was cold, approached his companion and stirred him with his foot. no sound or movement indicated consciousness; he stooped and shook him. "antoine, antoine, get up my friend: you don't intend to spend the night here, do you?" ameda sat upright, and rubbed his eyes with well-feigned sleepiness: "well, señor americano, what is it--indians smelling about?" dr. bryant could not repress a smile at the drowsy tone of the ranchero, who scarce five moments before had crept from his side. "upon my word, you seem a match for the seven sleepers of old. why, man, if indians had stumbled on you by chance, they had slung your scalp on yonder bough. in times like these men should slumber lightly." "very true, señor; yet mine eyes are heavy, for two moons have seen me riding on. but you are up! wherefore?" "i proceed on my journey, and wakened you to ask advice and direction, and request your company, if it be that we take the same route." "jesu maria! one might think the man had choice! why, turn your horse's head, and rest for naught but grass and water." the mexican had risen, and in adjusting his blanket, a sudden gust of wind lifted his hat, and it fell to the ground at his feet; he clutched at it convulsively, but it was too late. dr. bryant started back in astonishment: "inez!" the head sunk on her bosom, and the hair which had been confined at the back of her head, fell in luxuriant masses to her waist. "fearless, yet unfortunate girl! what has led you to this freak?" a singular group they presented, standing on the broad and seemingly boundless prairie--the march wind moaning through the old oaks, and rustling the brown grass. the moon shone full upon them; dr. bryant, with his large cloak wrapped closely about him, and the black cap drawn over his brow--surprise, reproach, pity, and chagrin strangely blended in his gaze. one arm was folded over the broad chest, the other hung by his side. inez stood just before him, her beautiful head bent so that the black locks well-nigh concealed her features. her father's large variegated blanket hanging loosely about the tall, slender form. at her feet lay the hat, crushed by the extended foot, and quivering in the night wind, her hands tightly clasped. "inez, you crouch like a guilty being before me! surely you have done nothing to blush for. yet stranger step was never taken by a reasonable being. inez, raise your head, and tell me what induced you to venture in this desolate region, alone, unprotected, and in disguise?" inez lifted slowly the once beautiful face, now haggard and pale. anguish of spirit had left its impress on her dark brow, wrinkled by early care. mournful was the expression of the large dark eyes raised to his face: "dr. bryant, i am alone in the wide, wide world--there are none to protect--none to care for me now! my father sleeps by mañuel's side, in the churchyard, and i am the last of my house. the name of de garcia, once so proud and honored, will become a byword for desolation and misery! i have said cursed was the hour of my birth! and i now say blessed is the hour of my last sleep! you see me here from necessity, not choice, for all places would be alike to me now; but i have been driven from my lonely hearth--i dared not stay, i flew to this dreary waste for peace--for protection! there is no rest, no peace for me, not one is left to whom i can say, guard and keep me from harm! alone, friendless, in this wide, bitter world!" "your language is strangely ambiguous, inez! can you not explicitly declare what danger threatens, and believe that all i can do to avert evil will gladly be done?" "dr. bryant, the padre is my most inveterate enemy! is not this sufficient to account for my presence here?" "unfortunate girl! how have you incurred that man's hatred?" "it is a long tale, and needless to repeat: enough, that he plotted my ruin--that the strong, silent walls of a far-off convent was my destination. and why?--that my flocks and lands might enrich his precious church. you look wonderingly upon me; strange language, this, i think you say, for a lamb of his flock. how dare you speak so irreverently of the holy man, consecrated priest of rome as he is? dr. bryant, i am no catholic, nor have i been since you have known me. it was my policy to appear passive. i attended mass, and sought the confessional, and all the while cursed him in my heart. i watched him, and saved your people from destruction. would you know how? i heard whispered promises to meet at dead of night. i followed; i saw the meeting between an emissary of santa anna and my godly padre. at imminent risk i listened to their plot. you were to be kept in ignorance of the powerful force hurrying on to destroy you. santa anna was to burst suddenly upon the town, and, ere you could receive reinforcements, capture the alamo at a blow. once in his possession, more than one of your people were to be handed over to the tender mercies of my holy confessor. i warned you of your danger, and happily you heeded the signs of the time; else you, too, would now molder beneath the walls of the alamo. his prey escaped him, and with redoubled eagerness he sought to consummate my destruction. i was made a prisoner in my own home, ere the sod settled on my father's grave! i fled in the midnight hour, and you see me here! dr. bryant, i well-nigh cut short the knotted thread of my life; but one thing saved me, else my body would even now whirl along the channel of the river. when i parted from the blue-eyed, sainted mary, she gave me this book, and asked me not only to read but follow its teachings. she clasped my hand, and told me to remember god, and the eternity which awaited me, and the judgment of that other, final world. oh! if there be a heaven and a purgatory! a god and a judge! if i sink to perdition, one alone is to blame. he told me he had power to forgive my sins; that the more completely i obeyed him on earth, the more blessed i should be in heaven. yet i have heard him lie, and seen him set aside the rules of humanity and the laws of god! mary's bible tells me 'to keep holy the sabbath day.' yet, from my childhood, i have seen our priests at mass on sabbath morning, and at monte and cock-fights on the evening of the same day! and i have seen them take from the widow, as the burial-fee of her husband, the last cow she possessed. i saw these things, and i said, there is no god, or he would not suffer such as these to minister as his chosen servants upon the earth. i said in my heart, purgatory is but a lie made to keep pace with their marvelous legends and frequent miracles! there is not a purgatory, or they would fear the retribution in store for them. i had none to teach me aright. i mocked at the thought of religion. i said there is none on the earth--it is merely a system of gain, and all that constitutes the difference is, that some are by nature more of devils, and others gifted with milder hearts. but i saw mary--pure angel that she is--i saw her with the sick and the dying: she railed not at our priest, as he at her. she carried her bible to the bed of death, and told them to look to god for themselves. she bade them leave off saint-worship, and cling to jesus as their only mediator. peace followed her steps, and much good she would have done, but my padre interfered, peremptorily ordered all good papists to shun her as they would an incarnate demon, and frightened many into submission with his marvelous tales and threats of purgatory. i said to myself, if there be truth in god and religion, this mary walketh in the right path, for like an angel of mercy and light she ever seems. she was the hope, the joy, the blessing of all who knew her. oh! i will come to you, mary, and learn of you, and die near, that you may be with me in the hour of rest." inez sank on the ground, and burying her face in her arms, rocked herself to and fro. dr. bryant had listened to her rambling, incoherent language, like one in a dream, till the name of mary passed her lips, and then his head sank upon his chest, and he groaned in the anguish of his tortured spirit. inez held in one hand the small bible given at parting; his eye fell upon it, and he stepped nearer to her: "inez, the mary you have loved rests no longer on earth. she has passed away, and dwells in heaven. she was true to god, and his holy law, and great is her reward. scarce a week since i laid her in her quiet grave, yet not there either, but yielded her up to the arms of god!" he paused, for his deep tone faltered. inez rose quickly to her feet as he spoke, and gazed vacantly on his face. "mary gone forever! mary in heaven! shall i never again see her, sweet angel of truth and purity, with her soft blue eyes, so full of holy love and gentleness? oh, mary, thou art blessed! thou art at rest! when shall i, too, find eternal rest? ere long, mary, i, too, will sleep the last, unbroken, dreamless sleep!" dr. bryant laid his hand on the sacred volume, and would have drawn it from her clasp; but tightening her hold, she shook her head, and mournfully exclaimed: "no, no; it is mine! when i die, it shall be my pillow; while i live, it rests near my heart, and in the churchyard i will not let it go. you have no right to claim it: you have not loved her as i have done. she loved you, yet you heeded not the jewel that might have, even now, been your own!" "inez, i have loved--i do love her, as none other can! too late i found my love returned. had god spared her to me, she would have been my wife. oh, mary, mary! my own cherished one! may thy spirit hover round me now, as in life thou wert my guardian angel! inez, i, too, have suffered, and severely. i have little to anticipate in life, yet i am not desponding as you; my faith in god and his unchanging goodness is unshaken. let us both so live that we may join my mary in glory." inez answered not, but passed her hand wearily across her brow. "inez, which will you do? retain your disguise, and go with me, or return to your old home? i am not going to austin, but to goliad, to join the texans there; will you accompany me, and claim the protection of our banner? all that a brother could, i will gladly do; with me you are safe, at least for a time; and when the storm of war has passed, i doubt not your home will again be happy." "i know you, dr. bryant, and i know that you are true to god, and keep his law. i will go with you to goliad, and there we will decide what i must do. oh! i am weary and sick at heart, and not long will i burden you." she stooped, and picking up the hat, replaced it on her head, and turned toward her horse. frank kindly took her hand. "inez, do not despond. i trust all may yet be well with you, and rest assured it gives me heartfelt pleasure to be enabled to render you a service, and take you to a place of safety. but your hand is hot--burning: it is feverish excitement from which you suffer. when we have reached goliad, and you can rest, i doubt not your strength and spirits will return; meantime take one of my pistols, it is loaded, and, in case of danger, will render good service." she took the proffered weapon, and having secured it in the girdle, turned to mount her horse. frank assisted in arranging the accouterments, and, springing upon his own recruited steed, they turned their faces southward. chapter xxx. "our bosoms we'll bare to the glorious strife, and our oath is recorded on high, to prevail in the cause that is dearer than life, or crushed in its ruins to die. * * * * * and leaving in battle no blot on his name, look proudly to heaven, from the death-bed of fame." campbell. a bloody seal was set upon thee, oh! goliad. a gory banner bound around thy name; and centuries shall slowly roll ere thou art blotted from the memory of man. the annals of the dim and darkened past afford no parallel for the inhuman deed, so calmly, so deliberately committed within thy precincts; and the demon perpetrator escaped unpunished! a perfect appreciation of the spirit of the text--"vengeance is mine, saith the lord; i will repay," alone can sanction the apathy manifested by one to whom the world looked as the avenger of his murdered countrymen. rumors of the fall of the alamo, the overwhelming force of santa anna, and his own imminent danger, had reached colonel fanning. in vain he entreated reinforcements, in vain urged the risk hourly incurred. the texan councils bade him save himself by flight. "retreat, fly from the post committed to my keeping!" the words sounded like a knell on the ear of the noble man to whom they were addressed. he groaned in the anguish of his spirit, "i will not leave this fortress--travis fell defending with his latest breath the alamo! oh, crocket! bowie! can i do better than follow thy example, and give my life in this true cause?" an untimely death--the separation and misery of his darling family, weighed not an atom! "patria infelici fidelis!" was ever his motto, and unfaltering was his own step. there came a messenger from headquarters--"abandon goliad, and retreat!" "colonel, you will not sound a retreat?" and dr. bryant laid his hand upon his commander's arm. "my god! it is a fearful thing to decide the destinies of four hundred brave men! bryant, if we remain it is certain death--the tragedy of san antonio will be reacted in our case!" "colonel, you must remember the old saw--'he that fights and runs away, lives to fight another day,'" said a timeworn ranger, settling his collar with perfect nonchalance. "why, furgeson, do you counsel flight? my brave comrade, bethink yourself!" "well, colonel, it is something strange for me to say run; but when i do say it, i am in earnest. the most hot-headed fellow in our company dare not say i lack courage: you know as well as i do what they call me--'bulldog furgeson,' but who feels like fighting the grand devil himself, and his legion of imps to boot? i am a lone man and have nothing in particular to live for, it's true; but it is some object with me to do the most service i can for our lone blessed star! i should like a game with old 'santy' in a clear ring, and fair play; but i am thinking we had best take french leave of this place, and join the main body where we can fight with some chance ahead. now that's my opinion, but if you don't believe that doctrine, and want to take the 'old bull right by the horns,' i say let's at him." a smile passed over the face of his commander. "thank you, furgeson, and rest assured i shall not doubt your stanch support in time of need." again the broad brow contracted, and, linking his arm in that of dr. bryant, he paced to and fro, engrossed in earnest, anxious thought. pausing at length, he pointed to his troops, awaiting in silence his commands. "bryant, at least half those brave fellows have wives and children, and bright homes, beckoning them away, yet see them calmly trust to me in this trying hour. should my order go forth to man the fort, and meet the worst, i know full well not a murmur would be heard. still it is equally certain that, if we brave the conflict, not one of us shall survive to tell the tale. what am i to do? make this a second thermopylæ?" "peculiarly painful, i know full well, is the situation in which you are placed. yet one strong argument remains to be urged. colonel, if we desert goliad, and sound a retreat, we cannot escape. the force of the enemy is too powerful, their movements too rapid, to allow us to retire to a place of safety without a desperate encounter. is it not better policy to remain here, and meet the shock?" "if we fight at all it must be at fearful odds; four hundred to six thousand! yet, should i follow the dictates of my own heart, i would not give one inch!--no, not one! dearly they should buy the ground on which i stand!" "colonel, shall we not meet them on this spot and lay down our lives, as did our brethren of the alamo?" "no, by jove! i shall have to leave, whether i will or not!" and crumpling the note of orders, he tossed it to the ground, and pressed it with his heel. he stepped forth, and drawing his military cap about his eyes, folded his arms upon his broad chest, and addressed his troops: "comrades! retreat is no test of an army's bravery, neither the courage of its commander. in every age and nation, circumstances have occurred in which the cause of liberty, or the general welfare of the state, has been promoted by timely flight rather than desperate engagements. 'the swamp fox' often retired to his island of refuge, safe from invading bands--the daring sumter was forced at times to retreat; and even our great washington fled from superior forces, and waited till a more convenient season. fellow-soldiers: there is one of two steps to be immediately taken. we will stand to our post, and fall to a man, like travis and his noble band, and our names will go down to posterity as did the spartans of old, 'wreathed with honor, and immortal fame;' or else we set out at once for headquarters, consolidate our forces, and march united to oppose santa anna. "comrades, which will ye do?" no sound was heard along the ranks, each bent his head and communed with his own spirit; and the image of their distant, yet cherished homes, rose up and murmured--"remember thy weeping wife and thy fair-browed boy; who will guard them when thou art gone?" the eagle eye of their brave leader was piercingly bent on the mute assemblage; the momentary gleam of hope that lighted his noble countenance faded away. there came a faint sound of rising voices--it swelled louder, and louder still: "god bless our noble colonel! our brave fanning! with him is the issue. say but the word, and we will follow!" "bryant, i cannot sign their death-warrant!" he said in a low, subdued tone, sinking his head upon his breast. he lifted himself up, and raising his voice, calmly replied: "had i not received orders to retreat, and if i were not fully aware that lingering here insured our total destruction, i should scorn to turn my back upon goliad! oh! gladly i would die in its defense; but your fate is too entirely in my hands to admit of following my individual wishes! none know the pang it causes me to sound a 'retreat,' yet it may be, that the success of our cause demands it at my hands, and therefore i say, 'retreat, comrades!'--at dawn to-morrow, we move from goliad." the decree went forth, and the ensuing day saw the doomed band moving eastward toward headquarters they were destined never to reach. on arriving at goliad, dr. bryant had immediately enlisted, after placing inez in safety at the house of an aged señora of her nation; and no sooner was it decided to leave the town the following day than he sought his spanish friend. she was sitting alone when he entered, and quickly rising, placed a seat for him. "thank you, inez, i have only a moment to remain--i come to say good-by." "which way do your people go now?" she hoarsely asked. "santa anna is marching with overwhelming forces toward us, and colonel fanning thinks it advisable to retire to headquarters. we set out at dawn to-morrow." "you cannot escape by flight: it were better to remain here. i tell you now, if you leave goliad, you will be cut off to a man." "inez, my own feelings would strongly incline me to follow your advice, but it has been decided otherwise!' "then, if you must go, i go with you!" "impossible, inez, impossible! you know not what you say! for you to venture from this place under existing circumstances, beset as we are on every hand with dangers seen and unseen,--would be the height of madness." "i know not fear! of that you must have been convinced long ere this. danger cannot intimidate me; what you meet and suffer, that will i encounter." "bethink yourself, inez! what can you hope to accomplish by this strange step? you have nothing to fear here from your own nation: what can you gain by seeking a home among my people? strange, mysterious being! i wish for your own sake you were timid--that fear might strengthen your sense of prudence!" inez had bent her head while he spoke, as in humiliation, now she lifted herself and said, in a low, determined tone: "i am alone in the wide world, and i have but one hope, but one pleasure; to be with you while life remains, and to die near, that you may close my eyes and lay me down to rest." she paused a moment, and then clasping her hands, approached him, and continued in a more passionate tone: "oh, if you knew how i have loved you, you could not look down so coldly, so calmly upon me! you could not refuse the favor i ask! oh, dr. bryant, do not scorn me for my love!--'tis not a common love; for it i have lost every earthly comfort and blessing; for this struggled and toiled, and braved numberless dangers. i have loved you better than everything beside! turn not from me, and think contemptuously of the worship given unsought! if you cannot love me, do not, oh, do not despise me! let me a little while longer be with you, and see you; i will not trouble or incommode any one--do not leave me. oh, dr. bryant, do not leave me!" the large black eyes were raised entreatingly to his, and an expression of the keenest anguish rested on her colorless, yet beautiful face. sadly he regarded her as she hurried on: no glance of scorn rested even for a moment upon her. yet a stern sorrow settled on his broad brow, and around the firmly compressed lips. "inez, i do not, cannot love you, other than as the kind friend of other days. i have never loved but one--i never shall. mary, my own angel mary, ever rests in my heart. i cannot forget her--i can never love another. i do not even thank you for your love, for your avowal gives me inexpressible pain! i have suspected this, inez, for long, and your own heart will tell you i gave no ground to hope that i could return your affection. i have striven to treat you like a sister of late, yet this painful hour has not been averted. equally painful to both. inez, your own words make it more than ever necessary that we should part forever. i cannot return your love--i will not encourage it. you must, as soon as safety allows, return to your old home. inez, do not cherish your affection for me, it can only bring pain and remorse; forget me, and remember that you have imperative duties of your own to perform. this is your darkest hour, and believe me, in time you will be happy, and a blessing to your people. remember mary's words, and her parting gift, and i pray god that we may so live that we shall all meet in a happier home." "then i shall never see you again?" she said, in a calm and unfaltering voice. "for your sake, inez, it is best that we should not meet again. if i survive this war i go to europe, and you will probably never see me more. inez, i pain you--forgive me. your own good requires this candor on my part." an ashy paleness overspread the cheek and brow of his companion as he spoke, and the small hands clutched each other tightly, yet no words passed the quivering lips. "good-by, inez! my kind and valued friend, good-by!" he held out his hand. she raised her head, and gazed into the sad yet noble face of the man she had loved so long. she clasped his hand between both hers, and a moan of bitter anguish escaped the lips. "my love will follow you forever! a woman of my nature cannot forget. i shall sink to eternal rest with your name on my lips--your image in my heart. yet i would not keep you here--go, and may your god ever bless you, and--and--may you at last meet your mary, if there be a heaven! we part now, for you have said it; good-by, and sometimes, when all is joy and gladness to you, think a moment on inez! the cursed, the miserable inez! sitting in bitter darkness by her lonely hearth! good-by!" she pressed her lips to his hand, and without a tear, shrouded her face in her mantilla and turned away. "god bless you, inez, and keep you from all harm!" and dr. bryant left the house, and returned to his commander. * * * * * colonel fanning had led his troops but a few miles when the vanguard halted, and some excitement was manifested. spurring forward, he inquired the cause of delay. "why, colonel, if we ain't 'out of the frying-pan into the fire,' my name is not will furgeson. look yonder, colonel, it takes older and weaker eyes than mine to say them ain't santy anna's imps marching down upon us thick as bees just swarmed, too!" "you are right, furgeson; it is the entire mexican force! let us form at once and meet them!" quick and clearly his orders rung out, and his little band, compact and firm, waited in silence the result. with an exulting shout the mexicans charged. desperately the doomed texans fought, heaping up the slain at every step. the wily santa anna changed his tactics. there came a momentary cessation as the crowding thousands were furiously driven back. and, seizing the opportunity, he spurred forward, offered honorable terms, and besought fanning to surrender and save the lives of his brave followers. "we will only surrender on condition that every privilege of prisoners of war be guaranteed to us," replied colonel fanning. "i, santa anna, commander-in-chief of the mexican forces, do most solemnly pledge my word, that all the privileges consistent with your situation as prisoners of war, shall be extended to yourself and men. and hereby swear, that on these conditions you may lay down your arms in safety, without further molestation on our part." is there one of my readers who for a moment would attach blame to the noble fanning? the lives of his men were of far more importance to him than the renown of perishing, like travis, in a desperate struggle. with the latter there was no alternative, for the cry of even seven exhausted men for "quarter" was disregarded, and the garrison fell to a man. but honorable terms were offered fanning: he remembered his men, and surrendered. santa anna! can there be pardon for such a hardened wretch as you? does not sleep fly your pillow? in the silent watches of the night, do not the specter forms of your victims cluster about your couch, and the shambles of goliad rise before you? can you find rest from the echoing shrieks of murdered thousands, or shut your eyes and fail to perceive the mangled forms stiffening in death, and weltering in gore? if you are human, which i much doubt, your blackened soul will be tortured with unavailing remorse, till death closes your career on earth, and you are borne to the tribunal of almighty god, there to receive your reward.... night found the texans again in goliad, and they sought sleep secure from evil; for had not santa anna's word been given that further molestation would not be allowed? and they believed! soundly they slept, and dreamed of far-off homes and fireside joys. "that bright dream was their last!" sunrise came, and they were drawn out upon the plaza. their leader was retained in custody, and, unsuspicious of harm, they each maintained their position. dr. bryant raised his eyes--they rested but a moment on santa anna's face. turning quickly, he shouted aloud, "turn, comrades, let us not be shot in the back!" another moment the signal was given, and a deadly fire poured upon four hundred unresisting prisoners of war, to whom honorable conditions had been granted by the brave and noble generalissimo of the mexican forces. not one of many noble forms was spared. dr. bryant sank without a struggle to the earth; and his spirit, released from sorrowing mortality, sprung up to meet his mary and his god! the deed was done; and santa anna, the mighty chief who mowed down four hundred unarmed men, was immortalized! fear not, brave heart, that posterity will forget thee! rest assured that the lapse of time cannot obliterate the memory of thy mighty deeds! fanning survived but a few hours, and then a well-aimed ball laid low forever his noble head. who among us can calmly remember that his body was denied a burial? oh, thou martyr leader of a martyr band, we cherish thy memory! dear to the heart of every texan, every american, every soldier, and every patriot. peace to thee, noble fanning! and may the purest joys of heaven be yours in that eternity to which we all are hastening. * * * * * it was noon! still and cold lay the four hundred forms upon the plaza. even as they sank, so they slept. no disturbing hand had misplaced one stiffened member. the silence of death reigned around the murdered band. a muffled figure swiftly stole down the now deserted streets, and hurrying to the plaza, paused and gazed on the ruin and wreck that surrounded her. pools of blood were yet standing, and the earth was damp with gore. one by one inez turned the motionless forms, still the face she sought was not to be found. she had almost concluded her search, when her eye fell on a prostrate form, closely wrapt in a long black cloak; she knelt and gazed into the upturned face, and a low cry of bitter anguish welled up and passed her colorless lips. gently she lifted the cloak, clasped by one icy hand: the ball had pierced his side, and entered the heart. so instantaneous had been his death that not a feature was convulsed. the dark clustering hair was borne back from the broad white brow, the eyes closed as in deep sleep, the finely-cut lips just parted. pallid was the cheek, yet calm and noble beyond degree was the marble face on which inez gazed. she caught the cold hand to her lips, and laid her cheek near his mouth, that she might know and realize that his spirit had indeed joined mary's in the "land of rest." the icy touch extinguished every gleam of hope, and calmly she drew the cloak over the loved face, concealing every feature, then dropped her handkerchief upon the covered head, and drawing her mantilla like a shroud about her, went her way to wait for night and darkness. stretched on a couch in the home of the kind-hearted señora who had received her, inez noted the moments and hours as they passed. an eternity seemed comprised in the time which elapsed from noon till dusk. again and again she raised her bowed head, and looked out on the slowly sinking sun. it passed at length beyond her vision. she rose and sought her friend, an aged dame, whom god had gifted with a gentle heart, keenly alive to the grief and sufferings of another. "well, señorita inez, what will you have?" "i have a great favor to ask, yet it is one i doubt not will be granted. señora, among yonder slain is one who in life was ever kind to me and to our people. since morning he has lain in his own blood! to-morrow will see them thrown into heaps, and left with scarce sod enough to cover! i cannot, will not see him buried so! i myself will lay him down to rest, if santa anna claims my life for it to-morrow! i have caused a grave to be dug in a quiet spot, but i cannot bear him to it unassisted. my strength is gone--i am well-nigh spent: will you help me to-night? they will not miss him to-morrow, and none will know till all is at rest! señora, will you come with me?" "tell me first, inez, if it is he who brought you here; who acted so nobly to me, and bade adieu to you but two days since?" "yes, the same! will you refuse to assist me now?" "no, by our blessed virgin! i will do all an old woman like me can do; yet united, inez, we shall be strong." wrapping their mantillas about them, they noiselessly proceeded to the plaza. darkness had closed in, and happily they met not even a straggling soldier, for all, with instinctive dread, shunned the horrid scene. they paused as señora berara stumbled over a dead body, and well-nigh slipped in blood: "jesu maria! my very bones ache with horror! this is no place for me. señorita, how will you know the body? oh! let us make haste to leave here!" "hush! do you see a white spot gleaming yonder? nay, don't clutch my arm, it is only my handerchief. i laid it there to mark the place. come on, step lightly, or you will press the dead." with some difficulty they made their way along the damp, slippery ground, now and then catching at each other for support. inez paused on reaching her mark, and bent down for several moments; then raising herself she whispered: "señora, i have wrapped his cloak tightly about him, lift the corners near his feet, while i carry his head. be careful, lift gently, and do not let the cloak slip." slowly they lifted the motionless form, and steadily bore it away: inez taking the lead, and stepping cautiously. she left the plaza and principal streets, and turned toward a broad desolate waste, stretching away from the town, and bare, save a few gnarled oaks that moaned in the march wind. the moon rose when they had proceeded some distance beyond the last house, and inez paused suddenly, and looked anxiously about her. "sacra dio! i trust you have not lost your way! holy mother, preserve us if we have gone wrong." "i knew we must be near the place: it is under yonder tree; fear nothing señora, come on:" and a few more steps brought them to the designated spot. a shallow excavation had been made, sufficient to admit with ease the body of a full-grown man; and on its margin they softly laid their burden down. every object shone in the clear moonlight, and stranger scene never moon shone upon. a dreary waste stretched away in the distance, and sighingly the wind swept over it. inez knelt beside the grave, her wan yet still beautiful features convulsed with the secret agony of her tortured soul; the long raven hair floating like a black veil around the wasted form. just before her stood the old woman, weird-like, her wrinkled, swarthy face exposed to full view, while the silver hair, unbound by her exertion, streamed in the night breeze. loosely her clothes hung about her, and the thin, bony hands were clasped tightly as she bent forward and gazed on the marble face of the dead. wonder, awe, fear, pity, all strangely blended in her dark countenance. inez groaned, and rocked herself to and fro, as if crushed in body and spirit. she could not lay him to rest forever without the bitterest anguish, for in life she had worshiped him, and in death her heart clung to the loved form. again and again she kissed the cold hand she held. "señorita, we must make haste to lay him in, and cover him closely. don't waste time weeping now; you cannot give him life again. have done, señorita inez, and let us finish our work." "i am not weeping, señora! i have not shed a single tear; yet be patient: surely there is yet time." inez straightened the cloak in which frank bryant was shrouded, placed the hands calmly by his side, and softly smoothed the dark hair on his high and noble brow. she passionately kissed the cold lips once, then covered forever the loved, loved features, and they carefully lowered the still form into its last resting-place. they stood up, and the old dame pointed to the earth piled on either side. inez shuddered and closed her eyes a moment, as if unequal to the task. her companion stooped, and was in the act of tossing forward a mass of earth; but inez interposed: "señora, softly! i will do this: remember there is no coffin." fearfully calm was her tone as she slowly pushed in the earth. there was no hollow echo, such as ofttimes rends the heart of the mourner, but a heavy, dull sound of earth crushing earth. gradually she filled the opening even with the surface, then carefully scattered the remaining sod. "i will not raise a mound, for they would tear him up, should they know where i have laid him." inez walked away, and gathering a quantity of brown, shriveled leaves, and also as much grass as she could draw from the short bunches, sprinkled them on the grave and along the fresh earth. "think you, señora, they will find him here?" "no, no, señorita! none will know that we have buried him. but the night is already far gone, why do you linger?" for a moment longer inez gazed down upon the new-made grave: "but a few more hours, and i shall sleep here by your side; farewell till then." she turned away, and silently they retraced their steps to the town, reaching without inquiry or molestation their own home. chapter xxxi. "so live, that when thy summons comes to join the innumerable caravan, that moves to the pale realms of shade, where each shall take his chamber in the silent halls of death, thou go not, like the quarry slave, at night scourged to his dungeon; but sustained and soothed by an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave, like one who wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams." bryant. a bright day in april drew near its close, and the golden rays of the spring sun poured joyously through the open casement into the chamber of death. yes, the "king of terrors" drew nigh, and the cold damp, which his black pinions swept on, settled upon the brow of inez. a few days after the massacre at goliad, a raging fever crimsoned her cheeks, and lent unwonted brilliance to the large black eyes. delirium ensued, and wildly the unfortunate girl raved of the past--of her former love, her hopelessness, her utter desolation. the dreamless sleep of exhaustion followed this temporary madness: long she lay in the stupor so near akin to death, and now, consciousness restored, she awaited in silence her hour! in vain the kind-hearted señora entreated her to see a priest--steadfastly she refused. at length madame berara assumed the responsibility of calling in her own confessor, and silently quitting the room, went in quest of him. inez suspected the cause of her usual absence, and too feeble to concentrate her thoughts, turned her face to the wall, and wearily closed her eyes. yet one hand felt along the cover and beneath the pillow. for what was she searching on the bed of death? the thin fingers rested on a small and well-worn bible, and a tiny package, wrapped in paper and carefully tied. the sacred volume was feebly pushed beneath her head, and mechanically she undid the knot, and drew forth a glossy lock of black hair. wearily she pressed it to her lips several times, and again folding it away, her hands sank powerless upon her bosom. inez, inez! are there none near to clasp thy cold hand and tenderly lift thy weary head? alas, thou desolate one, thou art left alone in the bitter hour of thy trial! when all things seem shrouded in impenetrable gloom, and thy darkened soul turns from the tortured past to the dim, uncertain future, no loved one is nigh to dash away the gathering mists, and point to that celestial home "of which it hath not entered into the heart of man to conceive." oh, inez! thy short life has been dark and tempestuous; it is hard that a calm and peaceful end is denied to thee, thou suffering one, longing for rest, oblivion of the past, utter unconsciousness! struggle on, proud maiden! but a few moments, and thy tones will vibrate no longer, thy firm step cease forever, and thy memory pass away like the shadows of night! señora berara re-entered the silent chamber, accompanied by a priest, clad in the vestments of his order. they approached the bed, and the aged dame, bending over inez, whispered audibly: "i could not find my own padre, but i bring one who will confess and absolve thee? make haste to prepare for heaven." "i want neither confession nor absolution! begone! and let me die in peace," she answered, without unclosing the lids, which lay so heavily upon the sunken eyes. "leave us together! i will call thee when thou art wanted," whispered he of the order of jesus. the matron immediately withdrew, repeating an ave maria; and they were left alone. "inez!" a shudder crept through the wasted form, and, with a start, she looked upon the face of the intruder. even in death, hatred was strong; the dim eye flashed, and the cold, damp lips wreathed into a smile of utter scorn: "well, padre! you have tracked me at last. it is a pity, though, you had not set out one day later; you would have altogether missed your prey! but i am content, for i am far beyond your reach!" she gasped for breath, yet ghastly was the mocking smile which lit up the face. "not so, inez! you escaped me once; i have you now! you have defied me in health; but in death i conquer. you cannot die in peace without my blessing. remember, remember, one sin unconfessed will sink you into everlasting perdition! think you i will absolve you! never! never!" "what brings you here? think you the approach of death will terrify me?--that i shall claim your intercession and absolution? have you come hoping to make a bargain, and receive my order for a hundred sheep, or as many cattle, on condition that you pray me out of purgatory? i tell you now, if there be such a place, you will surely follow me ere long. we shall not be separated long, my godly padre!" large drops rolled from her brow, and, gasping, she continued more indistinctly: "there is one to stand between us now, even blackbrowed death! and now, as i speak, i see his shadow flung over me. i am dying, and if i am lost, you are to blame! you, and you only! you a man of god! you forgive my sins, and give me a passport to heaven! padre, i know you, in all your hypocrisy, and i know that, if there be a god, you have outraged his every law! you have led me astray! you have brought me to this! padre, i am sinful, full well i know it; for this is an hour when the barrier which hides the secret soul is thrown down, and every deed and thought stands up boldly for itself. i have not served god! but oh! i would not change places with you, leader, teacher, guide, consecrated priest, as you are--for you have mocked him! yes, mocked him! set aside his written word, and instead of bible truths you told me of saints, and relics, and miracles! you bade me worship the cross, and never once mentioned him who consecrated it with his agony and blood! in my childhood i believed your legends and miracles, and trusted to such as you to save me. a dreadful curse will rest upon your head, for you came in sheep's clothing, and devoured many precious souls! padre, i--i--" in vain she strove to articulate, further utterance was denied her. the ghastly hue of death settled upon her face. she lifted her eyes to heaven as in prayer; vacantly they wandered to the face of the padre, now well-nigh as pale as her own; then slowly closed forever. a slight quiver passed over the lips, a faint moan, and inez was at rest. for long her wearied spirit had cried "peace! peace!" and now she laid herself down and slept the long, unbroken sleep of death. "oh! you have yearned for rest, may you find it in the regions of the blest." as she had died without the pale of the church, they refused the lifeless form a narrow bed in consecrated ground. even the ordinary service for the dead was entirely omitted; and, without a prayer, they committed her to the silent tomb. the kind old dame, remembering her grief at the secret burial of her noble friend, obtained permission to lay her by his side, and, with the fierce howlings of the tempest for her funereal dirge, they consigned inez--the proud, beautiful, gifted, yet unfortunate inez--to rest. peace, inez, to thy memory, and may the sod lie lightly on thy early grave! chapter xxxii. "there's a bliss beyond all that the minstrel has told, when two, that are linked in one heavenly tie, with heart never changing, and brow never cold, love on through all ills, and love on till they die!" moore. "come, florence, put on your bonnet; we land in a few moments," said mr. stewart, entering the splendidly furnished saloon of a mississippi steamer, where she sat, book in hand. quietly the young wife, for such she now was, complied with his request, and taking her husband's arm, they advanced to the bow of the boat. it was a bright, sunny morning in early may, and the balmy breath of the opening summer wafted gladness to many a weary, aching heart. the margin of the river was fringed with willow, poplar, cotton-wood, and cypress, the delicate fresh green foliage contrasting beautifully with the deep azure sky, and the dark whirling waters of the turbid stream. it was such a day as all of us may have known, when nature wore the garb of perfect beauty, and the soothing influence is felt and acknowledged gratefully--joyfully acknowledged by every one accustomed from childhood duly to appreciate, admire, and love the fair and numberless works of god, who, --"not content with every food of life to nourish man. makes all nature beauty to his eye and music to his ear." florence was gazing intently, as each object receded from her view. they turned an angle in the stream, and drew near a landing, with only a solitary warehouse visible. she started, and her clasped hands, resting on her husband's arm, pressed heavily. he looked down into the flushed face, and said with a smile: "well, florence, what is it? why do you tremble so?" "mr. stewart, i cannot be mistaken: this is my father's old landing! why do you look so strangely? oh! if you knew what painful memories crowd upon my mind, you could not smile so calmly!" and her voice faltered. laying his hand tenderly on hers, he replied: "you once asked me whereabouts on the river my plantation was situated. i evaded your question. you are aware that i inherited it from a bachelor uncle. he purchased it from your father, and to your old home, my dear florence, we have come at last. it is yours again, and i should have told you long ago, but feared you might be impatient of the journey; and then it is pleasant to surprise you." ere florence could speak the mingled emotions of her heart, the boat stopped, and the jangling bells warned them to lose no time. mr. stewart placed her on the bank, and beckoning to a coachman mounted on a large heavy carriage, opened the door, assisted her in, and then cordially shaking the outstretched hand of the servant, inquired if all were well at home?" "oh yes, sir! all well except your mother. she has had the asthma, but is better. but ain't you going to let me look at your wife? you put her in as if i wan't to see my new mistress." mr. stewart laughed, and opening the door, bade florence look out; she threw back her long mourning veil, and bent forward; their eyes met, and both started with surprise: "isaac!" "miss florry! sure as i am alive!" and he grasped the white hand heartily. "i cannot understand this at all! isaac, how came you here?" "why you see, when the plantation was sold, we were sold with it; that's how i come to be here." "my dear florence, it is strange, very strange, that i never once thought of your recognizing the servants, though i should have known you could not forget them. in what capacity did isaac formerly serve?" "he was always our coachman; and many a ride in childhood i owe to his kindness and wish to make me happy. isaac, i am very glad to see you again." and her smile confirmed her words. mr. stewart took the seat by her side, and was closing the door, when the old man interfered. "miss florry, i know old master is dead--we heard that sometime ago; but where is miss mary? that blessed good child, that never gave a cross word to one on the plantation. why didn't she come home with you?" florence could not reply, and the tears rolled silently over her cheeks. "isaac," said mr. stewart, in a low, saddened tone, "mary has gone to a brighter home in heaven! she is happier far than she could be even here with us! she died about a month ago." there was a pause, and then, wiping his rough sleeve across his eyes, isaac slowly said--"and miss mary is dead! well, she has gone to heaven, if ever anybody did! for she was never like common children. many's the time when my poor little hannah was burnt, and like to die, that child has come by herself of dark nights to bring her a cake, or something sweet and good! god bless her little soul! she always was an angel!" and again wiping his eyes he mounted the box and drove homeward. ah! gentle mary! no sculptured monument marks thy resting-place! no eulogistic sermon, no high-flown panegyric was ever delivered, on thy life and death! yet that silent tear of old isaac's outspoke a thousand eulogies! it told of all thy kindness, charity, love, angelic purity of heart, and called thee "guardian angel" of the house of hamilton. night found florence sitting alone in the parlor of her old and dearly loved home. the apartment was much as she had left it five years before, and old familiar articles of furniture greeted her on every side. she sat down to the piano, on which in girlhood she had practised, and gently touched the keys. the soft tones, waking the "slumbering chord of memory," brought most vividly back the scenes of other days. again she stood there an only cherished daughter, and her father's image, as he used to stand leaning against the mantel-piece, rose with startling distinctness before her. and there, too, stood her cousin, with the soft blue eyes and golden curls of her girlhood; and she fancied she heard, once again, the clear, sweet voice, and felt the fond twining of her arms about her. long forgotten circumstances in primitive freshness rushed upon her mind, and unable to bear the sad associations which crowded up, florence turned away from the instrument, and seating herself on the sofa, gave vent to an uncontrollable burst of sorrow-- "oh! what a luxury it is to weep, and find in tears a sad relief!" and calmly florence wept, not bitterly, for she had had much of sorrow to bear, and schooled her heart to meet grief and sadness. yet it was hard to come back to her cherished home and miss from her side the gentle playmate of her youth, the parent she had almost idolized, and feel that she had left them in far distant resting-places. she heard her husband's step along the hall, and saw him enter--she strove to repress her tears and seem happy, but the quivering lips refused to smile. he sat down, and drawing his arm around her, pressed her face to his bosom, and tenderly said: "my mother had much to say, after my long absence, and i could not leave her till this moment my own heart told me that you suffered, and i longed to come to you and sympathize and cheer." "do not think me weak, mr. stewart, because you find me weeping. it is seldom i give vent to my feelings, but to-night i am overwhelmed with recollections of the past. oh! now, for the first time, i realize that mary has indeed gone forever. mary! mary! my heart aches already for you, and your warm unchanging love! oh! how can i look forward to the long coming years, and feel that i shall never see her again?" "florence, my own florence, i would not have you repress a single tear. i know how sadly altered all things are, and what a dreary look your home must bear. all i ask is, that when you feel lonely and unhappy, instead of hiding your grief, come to me, lay your weary head upon my shoulder, and i will strive to cheer you my precious wife! let nothing induce you to keep aught from me--let perfect confidence reign between us: and do not, for a moment, doubt that i wish you other than you are. the past is very painful both to you and to me, and the memory of frank and mary constantly saddens my spirit. yet we will look forward to a happier future, and strive to guide and cheer each other." he kissed the broad brow as he spoke, and drew tighter the arm which encircled his wife, as though no danger could assail while he was near. "of late, mr. stewart, i have wondered much how you ever learned to love me; for i am much changed, and in my girlhood i was cold, proud, and often contemptuous in my manner. ah, mary, how different from you! if i have higher aims in life, and purer joys, i owe it all to her, for she led me to love the law of god, and exemplified in her daily life the teachings of christ! but for her, i shudder to think what i should now have been! o god, i thank thee that i am saved even as a burning brand from the fire! i have hope of happiness on earth, and at last a joyful reunion with the loved ones that have gone on home before me. and you, my husband, help me to conquer myself to break down my pride, and to be more like mary. oh, forgive my weaknesses, and ever love me as you now do!" he clasped her to his heart, and whispered--"fear not, florence, that i will ever love you less! i, too, have faults which you may be called on to excuse, yet all is bright for us, and i trust no common share of happiness will be our portion through life!" "oh, sweet reward of danger past! how lovely, through the tears that speak her heart's o'erflowing joy, the young wife's smile appears. the fount of love for her hath gushed, life's shadows all have flown, joy, florence! thou a heart hast found responding to thine own!" the end. by al haines. the prince of india or why constantinople fell by lew. wallace vol. i. _rise, too, ye shapes and shadows of the past rise from your long forgotten grazes at last let us behold your faces, let us hear the words you uttered in those days of fear revisit your familiar haunts again the scenes of triumph and the scenes of pain and leave the footprints of your bleeding feet once more upon the pavement of the street_ longfellow contents book i the earth and the sea are always giving up their secrets i. the nameless bay ii. the midnight landing iii. the hidden treasure book ii the prince of india i. a messenger from cipango ii. the pilgrim at el katif iii. the yellow air iv. el zaribah v. the passing of the caravan vi. the prince and the emir vii. at the kaaba viii. the arrival in constantinople ix. the prince at home x. the rose of spring book iii the princess irene i. morning on the bosphorus ii. the princess irene iii. the homeric palace iv. the russian monk v. a voice from the cloister vi. what do the stars say? vii. the prince of india meets constantine viii. racing with a storm ix. in the white castle x. the arabian story-teller xi. the turquoise ring xii. the ring returns xiii. mahommed hears from the stars xiv. dreams and visions xv. departure from the white castle xvi. an embassy to the princess irene xvii. the emperor's wooing xviii. the singing sheik xix. two turkish tales xx. mahommed dreams book iv the palace of blacherne i. the palace of blacherne ii. the audience iii. the new faith proclaimed iv. the pannychides v. a plague of crime vi. a byzantine gentleman of the period vii. a byzantine heretic viii. the academy of epicurus ix. a fisherman's fete x. the hamari book i the earth and the sea are always giving up their secrets the prince of india chapter i. the nameless bay in the noon of a september day in the year of our dear lord , a merchant vessel nodded sleepily upon the gentle swells of warm water flowing in upon the syrian coast. a modern seafarer, looking from the deck of one of the messagerie steamers now plying the same line of trade, would regard her curiously, thankful to the calm which held her while he slaked his wonder, yet more thankful that he was not of her passage. she could not have exceeded a hundred tons burthen. at the bow and stern she was decked, and those quarters were fairly raised. amidship she was low and open, and pierced for twenty oars, ten to a side, all swaying listlessly from the narrow ports in which they were hung. sometimes they knocked against each other. one sail, square and of a dingy white, drooped from a broad yard-arm, which was itself tilted, and now and then creaked against the yellow mast complainingly, unmindful of the simple tackle designed to keep it in control. a watchman crouched in the meagre shade of a fan-like structure overhanging the bow deck. the roofing and the floor, where exposed, were clean, even bright; in all other parts subject to the weather and the wash there was only the blackness of pitch. the steersman sat on a bench at the stern. occasionally, from force of habit, he rested a hand upon the rudder-oar to be sure it was yet in reach. with exception of the two, the lookout and the steersman, all on board, officers, oarsmen, and sailors, were asleep--such confidence could a mediterranean calm inspire in those accustomed to life on the beautiful sea. as if neptune never became angry there, and blowing his conch, and smiting with his trident, splashed the sky with the yeast of waves! however, in neptune had disappeared; like the great god pan, he was dead. the next remarkable thing about the ship was the absence of the signs of business usual with merchantmen. there were no barrels, boxes, bales, or packages visible. nothing indicated a cargo. in her deepest undulations the water-line was not once submerged. the leather shields of the oar-ports were high and dry. possibly she had passengers aboard. ah, yes! there under the awning, stretched halfway across the deck dominated by the steersman, was a group of persons all unlike seamen. pausing to note them, we may find the motive of the voyage. four men composed the group. one was lying upon a pallet, asleep yet restless. a black velvet cap had slipped from his head, giving freedom to thick black hair tinged with white. starting from the temples, a beard with scarce a suggestion of gray swept in dark waves upon the neck and throat, and even invaded the pillow. between the hair and beard there was a narrow margin of sallow flesh for features somewhat crowded by knots of wrinkle. his body was wrapped in a loose woollen gown of brownish-black. a hand, apparently all bone, rested upon the breast, clutching a fold of the gown. the feet twitched nervously in the loosened thongs of old-fashioned sandals. glancing at the others of the group, it was plain this sleeper was master and they his slaves. two of them were stretched on the bare boards at the lower end of the pallet, and they were white. the third was a son of ethiopia of unmixed blood and gigantic frame. he sat at the left of the couch, cross-legged, and, like the rest, was in a doze; now and then, however, he raised his head, and, without fully opening his eyes, shook a fan of peacock feathers from head to foot over the recumbent figure. the two whites were clad in gowns of coarse linen belted to their waists; while, saving a cincture around his loins, the negro was naked. there is often much personal revelation to be gleaned from the properties a man carries with him from home. applying the rule here, by the pallet there was a walking-stick of unusual length, and severely hand-worn a little above the middle. in emergency it might have been used as a weapon. three bundles loosely wrapped had been cast against a timber of the ship; presumably they contained the plunder of the slaves reduced to the minimum allowance of travel. but the most noticeable item was a leather roll of very ancient appearance, held by a number of broad straps deeply stamped and secured by buckles of a metal blackened like neglected silver. the attention of a close observer would have been attracted to this parcel, not so much by its antique showing, as by the grip with which its owner clung to it with his right hand. even in sleep he held it of infinite consequence. it could not have contained coin or any bulky matter. possibly the man was on some special commission, with his credentials in the old roll. ay, who was he? thus started, the observer would have bent himself to study of the face; and immediately something would have suggested that while the stranger was of this period of the world he did not belong to it. such were the magicians of the story-loving al-raschid. or he was of the type rabbinical that sat with caiphas in judgment upon the gentle nazarene. only the centuries could have evolved the apparition. who was he? in the course of half an hour the man stirred, raised his head, looked hurriedly at his attendants, then at the parts of the ship in view, then at the steersman still dozing by the rudder; then he sat up, and brought the roll to his lap, whereat the rigor of his expression relaxed. the parcel was safe! and the conditions about him were as they should be! he next set about undoing the buckles of his treasure. the long fingers were expert; but just when the roll was ready to open he lifted his face, and fixed his eyes upon the section of blue expanse outside the edge of the awning, and dropped into thought. and straightway it was settled that he was not a diplomatist or a statesman or a man of business of any kind. the reflection which occupied him had nothing to do with intrigues or statecraft; its centre was in his heart as the look proved. so, in tender moods, a father gazes upon his child, a husband at the beloved wife, restfully, lovingly. and that moment the observer, continuing his study, would have forgotten the parcel, the white slaves, the gigantic negro, the self-willed hair and beard of pride--the face alone would have held him. the countenance of the sphinx has no beauty now; and standing before it, we feel no stir of the admiration always a certificate that what we are beholding is charming out of the common lines; yet we are drawn to it irresistibly, and by a wish vague, foolish--so foolish we would hesitate long before putting it in words to be heard by our best lover--a wish that the monster would tell us all about itself. the feeling awakened by the face of the traveller would have been similar, for it was distinctly israelitish, with exaggerated eyes set deeply in cavernous hollows--a mobile mask, in fact, concealing a life in some way unlike other lives. unlike? that was the very attraction. if the man would only speak, what a tale he could unfold! but he did not speak. indeed, he seemed to have regarded speech a weakness to be fortified against. putting the pleasant thought aside, he opened the roll, and with exceeding tenderness of touch brought forth a sheet of vellum dry to brittleness, and yellow as a faded sycamore leaf. there were lines upon it as of a geometrical drawing, and an inscription in strange characters. he bent over the chart, if such it may be called, eagerly, and read it through; then, with a satisfied expression, he folded it back into the cover, rebuckled the straps, and placed the parcel under the pillow. evidently the business drawing him was proceeding as he would have had it. next he woke the negro with a touch. the black in salute bent his body forward, and raised his hands palm out, the thumbs at the forehead. attention singularly intense settled upon his countenance; he appeared to listen with his soul. it was time for speech, yet the master merely pointed to one of the sleepers. the watchful negro caught the idea, and going to the man, aroused him, then resumed his place and posture by the pallet. the action revealed his proportions. he looked as if he could have lifted the gates of gaza, and borne them easily away; and to the strength there were superadded the grace, suppleness, and softness of motion of a cat. one could not have helped thinking the slave might have all the elements to make him a superior agent in fields of bad as well as good. the second slave arose, and waited respectfully. it would have been difficult to determine his nationality. he had the lean face, the high nose, sallow complexion, and low stature of an armenian. his countenance was pleasant and intelligent. in addressing him, the master made signs with hand and finger; and they appeared sufficient, for the servant walked away quickly as if on an errand. a short time, and he came back bringing a companion of the genus sailor, very red-faced, heavily built, stupid, his rolling gait unrelieved by a suggestion of good manners. taking position before the black-gowned personage, his feet wide apart, the mariner said: "you sent for me?" the question was couched in byzantine greek. "yes," the passenger replied, in the same tongue, though with better accent. "where are we?" "but for this calm we should be at sidon. the lookout reports the mountains in view." the passenger reflected a moment, then asked, "resorting to the oars, when can we reach the city?" "by midnight." "very well. listen now." the speaker's manner changed; fixing his big eyes upon the sailor's lesser orbs, he continued: "a few stadia north of sidon there is what may be called a bay. it is about four miles across. two little rivers empty into it, one on each side. near the middle of the bend of the shore there is a well of sweet water, with flow enough to support a few villagers and their camels. do you know the bay?" the skipper would have become familiar. "you are well acquainted with this coast," he said. "do you know of such a bay?" the passenger repeated. "i have heard of it." "could you find it at night?" "i believe so." "that is enough. take me into the bay, and land me at midnight. i will not go to the city. get out all the oars now. at the proper time i will tell you what further i wish. remember i am to be set ashore at midnight at a place which i will show you." the directions though few were clear. having given them, the passenger signed the negro to fan him, and stretched himself upon the pallet; and thenceforth there was no longer a question who was in control. it became the more interesting, however, to know the object of the landing at midnight on the shore of a lonesome unnamed bay. chapter ii the midnight landing the skipper predicted like a prophet. the ship was in the bay, and it was midnight or nearly so; for certain stars had climbed into certain quarters of the sky, and after their fashion were striking the hour. the passenger was pleased. "you have done well," he said to the mariner. "be silent now, and get close in shore. there are no breakers. have the small boat ready, and do not let the anchors go." the calm still prevailed, and the swells of the sea were scarce perceptible. under the gentlest impulse of the oars the little vessel drifted broadside on until the keel touched the sands. at the same instant the small boat appeared. the skipper reported to the passenger. going to each of the slaves, the latter signed them to descend. the negro swung himself down like a monkey, and received the baggage, which, besides the bundles already mentioned, consisted of some tools, notably a pick, a shovel, and a stout crowbar. an empty water-skin was also sent down, followed by a basket suggestive of food. then the passenger, with a foot over the side of the vessel, gave his final directions. "you will run now," he said to the skipper, who, to his credit, had thus far asked no questions, "down to the city, and lie there to-morrow, and to-morrow night. attract little notice as possible. it is not necessary to pass the gate. put out in time to be here at sunrise. i will be waiting for you. day after to-morrow at sunrise--remember." "but if you should not be here?" asked the sailor, thinking of extreme probabilities. "then wait for me," was the answer. the passenger, in turn, descended to the boat, and was caught in the arms of the black, and seated carefully as he had been a child. in brief time the party was ashore, and the boat returning to the ship; a little later, the ship withdrew to where the night effectually curtained the deep. the stay on the shore was long enough to apportion the baggage amongst the slaves. the master then led the way. crossing the road running from sidon along the coast to the up-country, they came to the foothills of the mountain, all without habitation. later they came upon signs of ancient life in splendor--broken columns, and here and there corinthian capitals in marble discolored and sunk deeply in sand and mould. the patches of white on them had a ghastly glimmer in the starlight. they were approaching the site of an old city, a suburb probably of palae-tyre when she was one of the spectacles of the world, sitting by the sea to rule it regally far and wide. on further a small stream, one of those emptying into the bay, had ploughed a ravine for itself across the route the party was pursuing. descending to the water, a halt was made to drink, and fill the water-skin, which the negro took on his shoulder. on further there was another ancient site strewn with fragments indicative of a cemetery. hewn stones were frequent, and mixed with them were occasional entablatures and vases from which the ages had not yet entirely worn the fine chiselling. at length an immense uncovered sarcophagus barred the way. the master stopped by it to study the heavens; when he found the north star, he gave the signal to his followers, and moved under the trail of the steadfast beacon. they came to a rising ground more definitely marked by sarcophagi hewn from the solid rock, and covered by lids of such weight and solidity that a number of them had never been disturbed. doubtless the dead within were lying as they had been left--but when, and by whom? what disclosures there will be when at last the end is trumpeted in! on further, but still connected with the once magnificent funeral site, they encountered a wall many feet thick, and short way beyond it, on the mountain's side, there were two arches of a bridge of which all else had been broken down; and these two had never spanned anything more substantial than the air. strange structure for such a locality! obviously the highway which once ran over it had begun in the city the better to communicate with the cemetery through which the party had just passed. so much was of easy understanding; but where was the other terminus? at sight of the arches the master drew a long breath of relief. they were the friends for whom he had been searching. nevertheless, without stopping, he led down into a hollow on all sides sheltered from view; and there the unloading took place. the tools and bundles were thrown down by a rock, and preparations made for the remainder of the night. the pallet was spread for the master. the basket gave up its contents, and the party refreshed themselves and slept the sleep of the weary. the secluded bivouac was kept the next day. only the master went forth in the afternoon. climbing the mountain, he found the line in continuation of the bridge; a task the two arches serving as a base made comparatively easy. he stood then upon a bench or terrace cumbered with rocks, and so broad that few persons casually looking would have suspected it artificial. facing fully about from the piers, he walked forward following the terrace which at places was out of line, and piled with debris tumbled from the mountain on the right hand side; in a few minutes that silent guide turned with an easy curve and disappeared in what had yet the appearance hardly distinguishable of an area wrenched with enormous labor from a low cliff of solid brown limestone. the visitor scanned the place again and again; then he said aloud: "no one has been here since"-- the sentence was left unfinished. that he could thus identify the spot, and with such certainty pass upon it in relation to a former period, proved he had been there before. rocks, earth, and bushes filled the space. picking footway through, he examined the face of the cliff then in front of him, lingering longest on the heap of breakage forming a bank over the meeting line of area and hill. "yes," he repeated, this time with undisguised satisfaction, "no one has been here since"-- again the sentence was unfinished. he ascended the bank next, and removed some of the stones at the top. a carved line in low relief on the face of the rock was directly exposed; seeing it he smiled, and replaced the stones, and descending, went back to the terrace, and thence to the slaves in bivouac. from one of the packages he had two iron lamps of old roman style brought out, and supplied with oil and wicks; then, as if everything necessary to his project was done, he took to the pallet. some goats had come to the place in his absence, but no living creature else. after nightfall the master woke the slaves, and made final preparation for the venture upon which he had come. the tools he gave to one man, the lamps to another, and the water-skin to the negro. then he led out of the hollow, and up the mountain to the terrace visited in the afternoon; nor did he pause in the area mentioned as the abrupt terminus of the highway over the skeleton piers. he climbed the bank of stones covering the foot of the cliff up to the precise spot at which his reconnoissance had ended. directly the slaves were removing the bank at the top; not a difficult task since they had only to roll the loose stones down a convenient grade. they worked industriously. at length--in half an hour probably--an opening into the cliff was discovered. the cavity, small at first, rapidly enlarged, until it gave assurance of a doorway of immense proportions. when the enlargement sufficed for his admission, the master stayed the work, and passed in. the slaves followed. the interior descent offered a grade corresponding with that of the bank outside--another bank, in fact, of like composition, but more difficult to pass on account of the darkness. with his foot the leading adventurer felt the way down to a floor; and when his assistants came to him, he took from a pocket in his gown a small case filled with a chemical powder which he poured at his feet; then he produced a flint and steel, and struck them together. some sparks dropped upon the powder. instantly a flame arose and filled the place with a ruddy illumination. lighting the lamps by the flame, the party looked around them, the slaves with simple wonder. they were in a vault--a burial vault of great antiquity. either it was an imitation of like chambers in egypt, or they were imitations of it. the excavation had been done with chisels. the walls were niched, giving them an appearance of panelling, and over each of the niches there had been an inscription in raised letters, now mostly defaced. the floor was a confusion of fragments knocked from sarcophagi, which, massive as they were, had been tilted, overturned, uncovered, mutilated, and robbed. useless to inquire whose the vandalism. it may have been of chaldeans of the time of almanezor, or of the greeks who marched with alexander, or of egyptians who were seldom regardful of the dead of the peoples they overthrew as they were of their own, or of saracens, thrice conquerors along the syrian coast, or of christians. few of the crusaders were like st. louis. but of all this the master took no notice. with him it was right that the vault should look the wreck it was. careless of inscriptions, indifferent to carving, his eyes ran rapidly along the foot of the northern wall until they came to a sarcophagus of green marble. thither he proceeded. he laid his hand upon the half-turned lid, and observing that the back of the great box--if such it may be termed--was against the wall, he said again: "no one has been here since"-- and again the sentence was left unfinished. forthwith he became all energy. the negro brought the crowbar, and, by direction, set it under the edge of the sarcophagus, which he held raised while the master blocked it at the bottom with a stone chip. another bite, and a larger chip was inserted. good hold being thus had, a vase was placed for fulcrum; after which, at every downward pressure of the iron, the ponderous coffin swung round a little to the left. slowly and with labor the movement was continued until the space behind was uncovered. by this time the lamps had become the dependencies for light. with his in hand, the master stooped and inspected the exposed wall. involuntarily the slaves bent forward and looked, but saw nothing different from the general surface in that quarter. the master beckoned the negro, and touching a stone not wider than his three fingers, but reddish in hue, and looking like mere chinking lodged in an accidental crevice, signed him to strike it with the end of the bar. once--twice--the stone refused to stir; with the third blow it was driven in out of sight, and, being followed vigorously, was heard to drop on the other side. the wall thereupon, to the height of the sarcophagus and the width of a broad door, broke, and appeared about to tumble down. when the dust cleared away, there was a crevice unseen before, and wide enough to admit a hand. the reader must remember there were masons in the old time who amused themselves applying their mathematics to such puzzles. here obviously the intention had been to screen an entrance to an adjoining chamber, and the key to the design had been the sliver of red granite first displaced. a little patient use then of hand and bar enabled the workman to take out the first large block of the combination. that the master numbered with chalk, and had carefully set aside. a second block was taken out, numbered, and set aside; finally the screen was demolished, and the way stood open. chapter iii the hidden treasure the slaves looked dubiously at the dusty aperture, which held out no invitation to them; the master, however, drew his robe closer about him, and stooping went in, lamp in hand. they then followed. an ascending passage, low but of ample width, received them. it too had been chiselled from the solid rock. the wheel marks of the cars used in the work were still on the floor. the walls were bare but smoothly dressed. altogether the interest here lay in expectation of what was to come; and possibly it was that which made the countenance of the master look so grave and absorbed. he certainly was not listening to the discordant echoes roused as he advanced. the ascent was easy. twenty-five or thirty steps brought them to the end of the passage. they then entered a spacious chamber circular and domed. the light of the lamps was not enough to redeem the ceiling from obscurity; yet the master led without pause to a sarcophagus standing under the centre of the dome, and when he was come there everything else was forgotten by him. the receptacle of the dead thus discovered had been hewn from the rock, and was of unusual proportions. standing broadside to the entrance, it was the height of an ordinary man, and twice as long as high. the exterior had been polished smoothly as the material would allow; otherwise it was of absolute plainness, looking not unlike a dark brown box. the lid was a slab of the finest white marble carven into a perfect model of solomon's temple. while the master surveyed the lid he was visibly affected. he passed the lamp over it slowly, letting the light fall into the courts of the famous building; in like manner he illuminated the corridors, and the tabernacle; and, as he did so, his features trembled and his eyes were suffused. he walked around the exquisite representation several times, pausing now and then to blow away the dust that had in places accumulated upon it. he noticed the effect of the transparent whiteness in the chamber; so in its day the original had lit up the surrounding world. undoubtedly the model had peculiar hold upon his feelings. but shaking the weakness off he after a while addressed himself to work. he had the negro thrust the edge of the bar under the lid, and raise it gently. having thoughtfully provided himself in the antechamber with pieces of stone for the purpose, he placed one of them so as to hold the vantage gained. slowly, then, by working at the ends alternately, the immense slab was turned upon its centre; slowly the hollow of the coffin was flooded with light; slowly, and with seeming reluctance, it gave up its secrets. in strong contrast to the plainness of the exterior, the interior of the sarcophagus was lined with plates and panels of gold, on which there were cartoons chased and beaten in, representing ships, and tall trees, doubtless cedars of lebanon, and masons at work, and two men armed and in royal robes greeting each other with clasped hands; and so beautiful were the cartoons that the eccentric medalleur, cellini, would have studied them long, if not enviously. yet he who now peered into the receptacle scarcely glanced at them. on a stone chair seated was the mummy of a man with a crown upon its head, and over its body, for the most part covering--the linen wrappings, was a robe of threads of gold in ample arrangement. the hands rested on the lap; in one was a sceptre; the other held an inscribed silver tablet. there were rings plain, and rings with jewels in setting, circling the fingers and thumbs; the ears, ankles, even the great toes, were ornamented in like manner. at the feet a sword of the fashion of a cimeter had been laid. the blade was in its scabbard, but the scabbard was a mass of jewels, and the handle a flaming ruby. the belt was webbed with pearls and glistening brilliants. under the sword were the instruments sacred then and ever since to master masons--a square, a gavel, a plummet, and an inscribing compass. the man had been a king--so much the first glance proclaimed. with him, as with his royal brethren from the tombs along the nile, death had asserted itself triumphantly over the embalmer. the cheeks were shrivelled and mouldy; across the forehead the skin was drawn tight; the temples were hollows rimmed abruptly with the frontal bones; the eyes, pits partially filled with dried ointments of a bituminous color. the monarch had yielded his life in its full ripeness, for the white hair and beard still adhered in stiffened plaits to the skull, cheeks, and chin. the nose alone was natural; it stood up thin and hooked, like the beak of an eagle. at sight of the figure thus caparisoned and maintaining its seat in an attitude of calm composure the slaves drew back startled. the negro dropped his iron bar, making the chamber ring with a dissonant clangor. around the mummy in careful arrangement were vessels heaped with coins and pearls and precious stones, cut and ready for the goldsmith. indeed, the whole inner space of the sarcophagus was set with basins and urns, each in itself a work of high art; and if their contents were to be judged by what appeared overflowing them, they all held precious stones of every variety. the corners had been draped with cloths of gold and cloths embroidered with pearls, some of which were now falling to pieces of their own weight. we know that kings and queens are but men and women subject to the same passions of common people; that they are generous or sordid according to their natures; that there have been misers amongst them; but this one--did he imagine he could carry his amassments with him out of the world? had he so loved the gems in his life as to dream he could illumine his tomb with them? if so, o royal idiot! the master, when an opening had been made sufficiently wide by turning the lid upon the edge of the sarcophagus, took off his sandals, gave a foot to one of his slaves, and swung himself into the interior. the lamp was then given him, and he surveyed the wealth and splendor as the king might never again. and as the king in his day had said with exultation, lo! it is all mine, the intruder now asserted title. unable, had he so wished, to carry the whole collection off, he looked around upon this and upon that, determining where to begin. conscious he had nothing to fear, and least of all from the owner in the chair, he was slow and deliberate. from his robe he drew a number of bags of coarse hempen cloth, and a broad white napkin. the latter he spread upon the floor, first removing several of the urns to obtain space; then he emptied one of the vessels upon it, and from the sparkling and varicolored heap before him proceeded to make selection. his judgment was excellent, sure and swift. not seldom he put the large stones aside, giving preference to color and lustre. those chosen he dropped into a bag. when the lot was gone through, he returned the rejected to the vessel, placing it back exactly in its place. then he betook himself to another of the vessels, and then another, until, in course of a couple of hours, he had made choice from the collection, and filled nine bags, and tied them securely. greatly relieved, he arose, rubbed the benumbed joints of his limbs awhile, then passed the packages out to the slaves. the occupation had been wearisome and tensive; but it was finished, and he would now retire. he lingered to give a last look at the interior, muttering the sentence again, and leaving it unfinished as before: "no one has been here since"-- from the face of the king, his eyes fell to the silver tablet in the nerveless hand. moving close, and holding the lamp in convenient position, he knelt and read the inscription. i. "there is but one god, and he was from the beginning, and will be without end. ii. "in my lifetime, i prepared this vault and tomb to receive my body, and keep it safely; yet it may be visited, for the earth and sea are always giving up their secrets. iii. "therefore, o stranger, first to find me, know thou! "that in all my days i kept intercourse with solomon, king of the jews, wisest of men, and the richest and greatest. as is known, he set about building a house to his lord god, resolved that there should be nothing like it in the world, nothing so spacious, so enriched, so perfect in proportions, so in all things becoming the glory of his god. in sympathy with him i gave him of the skill of my people, workers in brass, and silver, and gold, and products of the quarries: and in their ships my sailors brought him the yield of mines from the ends of the earth. at last the house was finished; then he sent me the model of the house, and the coins, and cloths of gold and pearl, and the precious stones, and the vessels holding them, and the other things of value here. ad if, o stranger, thou dost wonder at the greatness of the gift, know thou that it was but a small part of what remained unto him of like kind, for he was master of the earth, and of everything belonging to it which might be of service to him, even the elements and their subtleties. iv. "nor think, o stranger, that i have taken the wealth into the tomb with me, imagining it can serve me in the next life. i store it here because i love him who gave it to me, and am jealous of his love; and that is all. v. "so thou wilt use the wealth in ways pleasing in the sight of the lord god of solomon, my royal friend, take thou of it in welcome. there is no god but his god! "thus say i--hiram, king of tyre." "rest thou thy soul, o wisest of pagan kings," said the master, rising. "being the first to find thee here, and basing my title to thy wealth on that circumstance, i will use it in a way pleasing in the sight of the lord god of solomon. verily, verily, there is no god but his god!" this, then, was the business that brought the man to the tomb of the king whose glory was to have been the friend of solomon. pondering the idea, we begin to realize how vast the latter's fame was; and it ceases to be matter of wonder that his contemporaries, even the most royal, could have been jealous of his love. not only have we the man's business, but it is finished; and judging from the satisfaction discernible on his face as he raised the lamp and turned to depart, the result must have been according to his best hope. he took off his robe, and tossed it to his slaves; then he laid a hand upon the edge of the sarcophagus preparatory to climbing out. at the moment, while giving a last look about him, an emerald, smoothly cut, and of great size, larger indeed than a full-grown pomegranate, caught his eyes in its place loose upon the floor. he turned back, and taking it up, examined it carefully; while thus engaged his glance dropped to the sword almost at his feet. the sparkle of the brilliants, and the fire-flame of the great ruby in the grip, drew him irresistibly, and he stood considering. directly he spoke in a low voice: "no one has been here since"-- he hesitated--glanced hurriedly around to again assure himself it was not possible to be overheard--then finished the sentence: "no one has been here _since i came a thousand years ago_." at the words so strange, so inexplicable upon any theory of nature and common experience, the lamp shook in his hand. involuntarily he shrank from the admission, though to himself. but recovering, he repeated: "since i came a thousand years ago." then he added more firmly: "but the earth and the sea are always giving up their secrets. so saith the good king hiram; and since i am a witness proving the wisdom of the speech, i at least must believe him. wherefore it is for me to govern myself as if another will shortly follow me. the saying of the king is an injunction." with that, he turned the glittering sword over and over admiringly. loath to let it go, he drew the blade partly from the scabbard, and its clearness had the depth peculiar to the sky between stars at night. "is there anything it will not buy," he continued, reflectively. "what king could refuse a sword once solomon's? i will take it." thereupon he passed both the emerald and the sword out to the slaves, whom he presently joined. the conviction, but a moment before expressed, that another would follow him to the tomb of the venerated tyrian, was not strong enough to hinder the master from attempting to hide every sign which might aid in the discovery. the negro, under his direction, returned the lid exactly to its former fitting place on the sarcophagus; the emerald and the sword he wrapped in his gown; the bags and the tools were counted and distributed among the slaves for easy carriage. lamp in hand, he then walked around to see that nothing was left behind. incidentally he even surveyed the brown walls and the dim dome overhead. having reached the certainty that everything was in its former state, he waved his hand, and with one long look backward at the model, ghostly beautiful in its shining white transparency, he led the way to the passage of entrance, leaving the king to his solitude and stately sleep, unmindful of the visitation and the despoilment. out in the large reception room, he paused again to restore the wall. beginning with the insignificant key, one by one the stones, each of which, as we have seen, had been numbered by him, were raised and reset. then handfuls of dust were collected and blown into the slight crevices till they were invisible. the final step was the restoration of the sarcophagus; this done, the gallery leading to the real vault of the king was once more effectually concealed. "he who follows, come he soon or late, must have more than sharp eyes if he would have audience with hiram, my royal friend of tyre," the adventurer said, in his meditative way, feeling at the same time in the folds of his gown for the chart so the object of solicitude on the ship. the roll, the emerald, and the sword were also safe. signing the slaves to remain where they were, he moved slowly across the chamber, and by aid of his lamp surveyed an aperture there so broad and lofty it was suggestive of a gate rather than a door. "it is well," he said, smiling. "the hunter of spoils, hereafter as heretofore, will pass this way instead of the other." the remark was shrewd. probably nothing had so contributed to the long concealment of the gallery just reclosed the second time in a thousand years as the high doorway, with its invitation to rooms beyond it, all now in iconoclastic confusion. rejoining his workmen, he took a knife from the girdle of one of them, and cut a slit in the gurglet large enough to admit the bags of precious stones. the skin was roomy, and received them, though with the loss of much of the water. having thus disposed of that portion of the plunder to the best advantage both for portage and concealment, he helped swing it securely upon the negro's shoulder, and without other delay led from the chamber to the great outdoors, where the lamps were extinguished. the pure sweet air, as may be imagined, was welcome to every one. while the slaves stood breathing it in wholesome volumes, the master studied the stars, and saw the night was not so far gone but that, with industry, the sea-shore could be made in time for the ship. still pursuing the policy of hiding the road to the tomb much as possible, he waited while the men covered the entrance as before with stones brought up from the bank. a last survey of the face of the rock, minute as the starlight allowed, reassured him that, as to the rest of the world, the treasure might remain with its ancient owner undisturbed for yet another thousand years, if not forever; after which, in a congratulatory mood, he descended the mountain side to the place of bivouac, and thence in good time, and without adventure, arrived at the landing by the sea. there the negro, wading far out, flung the tools into the water. in the appointed time the galley came down from the city, and, under impulsion of the oars, disappeared with the party up the coast northward. the negro unrolled the pallet upon the deck, and brought some bread, smyrna figs, and wine of prinkipo, and the four ate and drank heartily. the skipper was then summoned. "you have done well, my friend," said the master. "spare not sail or oar now, but make byzantium without looking into any wayside port. i will increase your pay in proportion as you shorten the time we are out. look to it--go--and speed you." afterward the slaves in turn kept watch while he slept. and though the coming and going of sailors was frequent, not one of them noticed the oil-stained water-skin cast carelessly near the master's pillow, or the negro's shaggy half-cloak, serving as a wrap for the roll, the emerald, and the sword once solomon's. the run of the galley from the nameless bay near sidon was without stop or so much as a headwind. always the blue sky above the deck, and the blue sea below. in daytime the master passenger would occasionally pause in his walk along the white planks, and, his hand on the gunwale, give a look at some of the landmarks studding the ancient cycladean sea, an island here, or a tall promontory of the continent yonder, possibly an olympian height faintly gray in the vaster distance. his manner at such moments did not indicate a traveller new to the highway. a glance at the points such as business men closely pressed give the hands on the face of a clock to determine the minute of the hour, and he would resume walking. at night he slept right soundly. from the dardanelles into the hellespont; then the marmora. the captain would have coasted, but the passenger bade him keep in the open. "there is nothing to fear from the weather," he said, "but there is time to be saved." in an afternoon they sighted the great stones oxia and plati; the first, arid and bare as a gray egg, and conical like an irregular pyramid; the other, a plane on top, with verdure and scattering trees. a glance at the map shows them the most westerly group of the isles of the princes. now nature is sometimes stupid, sometimes whimsical, doing unaccountable things. one gazing at the other isles of the group from a softly rocking caique out a little way on the sea divines instantly that she meant them for summer retreats, but these two, oxia and plati, off by themselves, bleak in winter, apparently always ready for spontaneous combustion in the heated months, for what were they designed? no matter--uses were found for them--fitting uses. eremites in search of the hardest, grimmest places, selected oxia, and pecking holes and caves in its sides, shared the abodes thus laboriously won with cormorants, the most gluttonous of birds. in time a rude convent was built near the summit. on the other hand, plati was converted into a gehenna for criminals, and in the vats and dungeons with which it was provided, lives were spent weeping for liberty. on this isle, tears and curses; on that, tears and prayers. at sundown the galley was plying its oars between oxia and the european shore about where st. stephano is now situated. the dome of sta. sophia was in sight; behind it, in a line to the northwest, arose the tower of galata. "home by lamplighting--blessed be the virgin!" the mariners said to each other piously. but no! the master passenger sent for the captain. "i do not care to get into harbor before morning. the night is delicious, and i will try it in the small boat. i was once a rower, and yet have a fancy for the oars. do thou lay off and on hereabouts. put two lamps at the masthead that i may know thy vessel when i desire to return. now get out the boat." the captain thought his voyager queer of taste; nevertheless he did as told. in a short time the skiff--if the familiar word can be pardoned--put off with the negro and his master, the latter at the oars. in preparation for the excursion the gurglet half full of water and the sheepskin mantle of the black man were lowered into the little vessel. the boat moved away in the direction of prinkipo, the mother isle of the group; and as the night deepened, it passed from view. when out of sight from the galley's deck, the master gave the rowing to the negro, and taking seat by the rudder, changed direction to the southeast; after which he kept on and on, until plati lay directly in his course. the southern extremity of plati makes quite a bold bluff. in a period long gone a stone tower had been constructed there, a lookout and shelter for guardsmen on duty; and there being no earthly chance of escape for prisoners, so securely were they immured, the duty must have been against robbers from the mainland on the east, and from pirates generally. under the tower there was a climb difficult for most persons in daylight, and from the manoeuvring of the boat, the climb was obviously the object drawing the master. he at length found it, and stepped out on a shelving stone. the gurglet and mantle were passed to him, and soon he and his follower were feeling their way upward. on the summit, the chief walked once around the tower, now the merest ruin, a tumbledown without form, in places overgrown with sickly vines. rejoining his attendant, and staying a moment to thoroughly empty the gurglet of water, on his hands and knees he crawled into a passage much obstructed by debris. the negro waited outside. the master made two trips; the first one, he took the gurglet in; the second, he took the mantle wrapping the sword. at the end, he rubbed his hands in self-congratulation. "they are safe--the precious stones of hiram, and the sword of solomon! three other stores have i like this one--in india, in egypt, in jerusalem--and there is the tomb by sidon. oh, i shall not come to want!" and he laughed well pleased. the descent to the small boat was effected without accident. next morning toward sunrise the passengers disembarked at port st. peter on the south side of the golden horn. a little later the master was resting at home in byzantium. within three days the mysterious person whom we, wanting his proper name and title, have termed the master, had sold his house and household effects. in the night of the seventh day, with his servants, singular in that all of them were deaf and dumb, he went aboard ship, and vanished down the marmora, going no one but himself knew whither. the visit to the tomb of the royal friend of solomon had evidently been to provide for the journey; and that he took precious stones in preference to gold and silver signified a journey indefinite as to time and place. book ii the prince of india chapter i a messenger from cipango just fifty-three years after the journey to the tomb of the syrian king--more particularly on the fifteenth day of may, fourteen hundred and forty-eight--a man entered one of the stalls of a market in constantinople--to-day the market would be called a bazaar--and presented a letter to the proprietor. the israelite thus honored delayed opening the linen envelope while he surveyed the messenger. the liberty, it must be remarked, was not a usual preliminary in the great city, the cosmopolitanism of which had been long established; that is to say, a face, a figure, or a mode, to gain a second look from one of its denizens, had then, as it has now, to be grossly outlandish. in this instance the owner of the stall indulged a positive stare. he had seen, he thought, representatives of all known nationalities, but never one like the present visitor--never one so pinkish in complexion, and so very bias-eyed--never one who wrapped and re-wrapped himself in a single shawl so entirely, making it answer all the other vestments habitual to men. the latter peculiarity was more conspicuous in consequence of a sack of brown silk hanging loosely from the shoulder, with leaves and flowers done in dazzling embroidery down the front and around the edges. and then the slippers were of silk not less rich with embroidery, while over the bare head a sunshade of bamboo and paper brilliantly painted was carried. too well bred to persist in the stare or attempt to satisfy his curiosity by a direct question, the proprietor opened the letter, and began reading it. his neighbors less considerate ran together, and formed a crowd around the stranger, who nevertheless bore the inspection composedly, apparently unconscious of anything to make him such a cynosure. the paper which the removal of the envelope gave to the stall-keeper's hand excited him the more. the delicacy of its texture, its softness to the touch, its semi-transparency, were unlike anything he had ever seen; it was not only foreign, but very foreign. the lettering, however, was in greek plainly done. he noticed first the date; then, his curiosity becoming uncontrollable, and the missive being of but one sheet, his eyes dropped to the place of signature. there was no name there--only a seal--an impression on a surface of yellow wax of the drooping figure of a man bound to a cross. [illustration] at sight of the seal his eyes opened wider. he drew a long breath to quiet a rising feeling, half astonishment, half awe. retreating to a bench near by, he seated himself, and presently became unmindful of the messenger, of the crowd, of everything, indeed, except the letter and the matters of which it treated. the demand of the reader for a sight of the paper which could produce such an effect upon a person who was not more than an ordinary dealer in an eastern market may by this time have become imperious; wherefore it is at once submitted in free translation. only the date is modernized. "island in the over-sea. far east. _may_ , a.d. . "uel, son of jahdai. "peace to thee and all thine! "if thou hast kept faithfully the heirlooms of thy progenitors, somewhere in thy house there is now a duplication of the seal which thou wilt find hereto attached; only that one is done in gold. the reference is to prove to thee a matter i am pleased to assert, knowing it will at least put thee upon inquiry--i knew thy father, thy grandfather, and his father, and others of thy family further back than it is wise for me to declare; and i loved them, for they were a virtuous and goodly race, studious to do the will of the lord god of israel, and acknowledging no other; therein manifesting the chiefest of human excellences. to which, as more directly personal to thyself, i will add that qualities of men, like qualities in plants, are transmissible, and go they unmixed through many generations, they make a kind. therefore, at this great distance, and though i have never looked into thy face, or touched thy hand, or heard thy voice, i know thee, and give thee trust confidently. the son of thy father cannot tell the world what he has of me here, or that there is a creature like unto me living, or that he has to do with me in the least; and as the father would gladly undertake my requests, even those i now reveal unto thee, not less willingly will his son undertake them. refusal would be the first step toward betrayal. "with this preface, o son of jahdai, i write without fear, and freely; imparting, first, that it is now fifty years since i set foot upon the shores of this island, which, for want of a name likely to be known to thee, i have located and described as 'in the over-sea. far east.' its people are by nature kindly disposed to strangers, and live simply and affectionately. though they never heard of the nazarene whom the world persists in calling the christ, it is truth to say they better illustrate his teachings, especially in their dealings with each other, than the so-called christians amongst whom thy lot is cast. withal, however, i have become weary, the fault being more in myself than in them. desire for change is the universal law. only god is the same yesterday, to-day, and to-morrow eternally. so i am resolved to seek once more the land of our fathers and jerusalem, for which i yet have tears. in her perfection, she was more than beautiful; in her ruin, she is more than sacred. "in the execution of my design, know thou next, o son of jahdai, that i despatch my servant, syama, intrusting him to deliver this letter. when it is put into thy hand, note the day, and see if it be not exactly one year from this may, the time i have given him to make the journey, which is more by sea than land. thou mayst then know i am following him, though with stoppages of uncertain duration; it being necessary for me to cross from india to mecca; thence to kash-cush, and down the nile to cairo. nevertheless i hope to greet thee in person within six months after syama hath given thee this report. "the sending a courier thus in advance is with a design of which i think it of next importance to inform thee. "it is my purpose to resume residence in constantinople; for that, i must have a house. syama, amongst other duties in my behalf, is charged to purchase and furnish one, and have it ready to receive me when i arrive. the day is long passed since a khan had attractions for me. much more agreeable is it to think my own door will open instantly at my knock. in this affair thou canst be of service which shall be both remembered and gratefully recompensed. he hath no experience in the matter of property in thy city; thou hast; it is but natural, therefore, if i pray thou bring it into practice by assisting him in the selection, in perfecting the title, and in all else the project may require doing; remembering only that the tenement be plain and comfortable, not rich; for, alas! the time is not yet when the children of israel may live conspicuously in the eye of the christian world. "thou wilt find syama shrewd and of good judgment, older than he seemeth, and quick to render loyalty for my sake. be advised also that he is deaf and dumb; yet, if in speaking thou turn thy face to him, and use the greek tongue, he will understand thee by the motion of thy lips, and make answer by signs. "finally, be not afraid to accept this commission on account of pecuniary involvement. syama hath means of procuring all the money he may require, even to extravagance; at the same time he is forbidden to contract a debt, except it be to thee for kindness done, all which he will report to me so i may pay them fitly. "in all essential things syama hath full instructions; besides, he is acquainted with my habits and tastes; wherefore i conclude this writing by saying i hope thou wilt render him aid as indicated, and that when i come thou wilt allow me to relate myself to thee as father to son, in all things a help, in nothing a burden. "again, o son of jahdai, to thee and thine--peace!" [seal.] the son of jahdai, at the conclusion of the reading, let his hands fall heavily in his lap, while he plunged into a study which the messenger with his foreign airs could not distract. very great distance is one of the sublimities most powerful over the imagination. the letter had come from an island he had never heard named. an island in the over-sea which doubtless washed the eastern end of the earth, wherever that might be. and the writer! how did he get there? and what impelled him to go? a chill shot the thinker's nerves. he suddenly remembered that in his house there was a cupboard in a wall, with two shelves devoted to storage of heirlooms; on the upper shelf lay the _torah_ of immemorial usage in his family; the second contained cups of horn and metal, old phylacteries, amulets, and things of vertu in general, and of such addition and multiplication through the ages that he himself could not have made a list of them; in fact, now his attention was aroused, he recalled them a mass of colorless and formless objects which had ceased to have history or value. amongst them, however, a seal in the form of a medallion in gold recurred to him; but whether the impression upon it was raised or sunken he could not have certainly said; nor could he have told what the device was. his father and grandfather had esteemed it highly, and the story they told him about it divers times when he was a child upon their knees he could repeat quite substantially. a man committed an indignity to jesus the pretended _christ_, who, in punishment, condemned him to linger on the earth until in the fulness of time he should come again; and the man had gone on living through the centuries. both the father and grandfather affirmed the tale to be true; they had known the unfortunate personally; yet more, they declared he had been an intimate of the family, and had done its members through generations friendlinesses without number; in consequence they had come to consider him one of them in love. they had also said that to their knowledge it was his custom to pray for death regularly as the days came and went. he had repeatedly put himself in its way; yet curiously it passed him by, until he at last reached a conviction he could not die. many years had gone since the stall-keeper last heard the tale, and still more might have been counted since the man disappeared, going no one knew whither. but he was not dead! he was coming again! it was too strange to believe! it could not be! yet one thing was clear--whatever the messenger might be, or presuming him a villain, whatever the lie he thought to make profitable, appeal could be safely and cheaply made to the seal in the cupboard. as a witness it, too, was deaf and dumb; on its face nevertheless there was revelation and the truth. through the momentary numbness of his faculties so much the son of jahdai saw, and he did not wait. signing the messenger to follow, he passed into a closet forming part of the stall, and the two being alone, he spoke in greek. "be thou seated here," he said, "and wait till i return." the messenger smiled and bowed, and took seat; thereupon uel drew his turban down to his ears, and, letter in hand, started home. his going was rapid; sometimes he almost ran. acquaintances met him on the street, but he did not see them; if they spoke to him, he did not hear. arrived at his own door, he plunged into the house as if a mob were at his heels. now he was before the cupboard! little mercy the phylacteries and amulets, the bridle-spanglery of donkeys, the trinketry of women, his ancestresses once famous for beauty or many children--little mercy the motley collection on the second shelf received from his hands. he tossed them here and there, and here and there again, but the search was vain. ah, good lord! was the medalet lost? and of all times, then? the failure made him the more anxious; his hands shook while he essayed the search once more; and he reproached himself. the medal was valuable for its gold, and besides it was a sacred souvenir. conscience stung him. over and over he shifted and turned the various properties on the shelf, the last time systematically and with fixed attention. when he stopped to rest, the perspiration stood on his forehead in large drops, and he fairly wrung his hands, crying, "it is not here--it is lost! my god, how shall i know the truth now!" at this pause it is to be said that the son of jahdai was wifeless. the young woman whom he had taken as helpmeet in dying had left him a girl baby who, at the time of our writing, was about thirteen years old. under the necessity thus imposed, he found a venerable daughter of jerusalem to serve him as housekeeper, and charge herself with care of the child. now he thought of that person; possibly she knew where the seal was. he turned to seek her, and as he did so, the door of an adjoining room opened, and the child appeared. he held her very dear, because she had the clear olive complexion of her mother, and the same soft black eyes with which the latter used to smile upon him in such manner that words were never required to assure him of her love. and the little one was bright and affectionate, and had prettinesses in speech, and sang low and contentedly the day long. often as he took her on his lap and studied her fondly, he was conscious she promised to be gentle and beautiful as the departed one; beyond which it never occurred to him there could be superior excellences. distressed as the poor man was, he took the child in his arms, and kissed her on the round cheek, and was putting her down when he saw the medal at her throat, hanging from a string. she told him the housekeeper had given it to her as a plaything. untied at last--for his impatience was nigh uncontrollable--he hurried with the recovered treasure to a window, to look at the device raised upon it; then, his heart beating rapidly, he made comparison with the impression sunk in the yellow wax at the foot of the letter; he put them side by side--there could be no mistake--the impression on the wax might have been made by the medallion! let it not be supposed now that the son of jahdai did not appreciate the circumstance which had befallen. the idea of a man suffering a doom so strange affected him, while the doom itself, considered as a judgment, was simply awful; but his thought did not stop there--it carried him behind both the man and the doom. who was he with power by a word, not merely to change the most fixed of the decrees of nature, but, by suspending it entirely, hold an offending wretch alive for a period already encroaching upon the eternal? one less firmly rooted in the faith of his fathers would have stood aghast at the conclusion to which the answer as an argument led--a conclusion admitting no escape once it was reached. the affair in hand, however, despite its speculative side, was real and urgent; and the keeper of the stall, remembering the messenger in half imprisonment, fell to thinking of the practical questions before him; first of which was the treatment he should accord his correspondent's requests. this did not occupy him long. his father, he reflected, would have received the stranger cordially, and as became one of such close intimacy; so should he. the requests were easy, and carried no pecuniary liability with them; he was merely to aid an inexperienced servant in the purchase of a dwelling-house, the servant having plenty of funds. true, when the master presented himself in person, it would be necessary to determine exactly the footing to be accorded him; but for the present that might be deferred. if, in the connection, the son of jahdai dwelt briefly upon possible advantages to himself, the person being presumably rich and powerful, it was human, and he is to be excused for it. the return to the market was less hurried than the going from it. there uel acted promptly. he took syama to his house, and put him into the guest-chamber, assuring him it was a pleasure. yet when night came he slept poorly. the incidents of the day were mixed with much that was unaccountable, breaking the even tenor of his tradesman's life by unwonted perplexities. he had not the will to control his thoughts; they would go back to the excitement of the moment when he believed the medallion lost; and as points run together in the half-awake state on very slender threads, he had a vision of a mysterious old man coming into his house, and in some way taking up and absorbing the life of his child. when the world at last fell away and left him asleep, it was with a dread tapping heavily at his heart. the purchase which uel was requested to assist in making proved a light affair. after diligent search through the city, syama decided to take a two-story house situated in a street running along the foot of the hill to-day crowned by the mosque sultan selim, although it was then the site of an unpretentious christian church. besides a direct eastern frontage, it was in the divisional margin between the quarters of the greeks, which were always clean, and those of the jews, which were always filthy. it was also observed that neither the hill nor the church obstructed the western view from the roof; that is to say, it was so far around the upper curve of the hill that a thistle-down would be carried by a south-east wind over many of the proudest greek residences and dropped by the church of the holy virgin on blacherne, or in the imperial garden behind the church. in addition to these advantages, the son of jahdai was not unmindful that his own dwelling, a small but comfortable structure also of wood, was just opposite across the street. everything considered, the probabilities were that syama's selection would prove satisfactory to his master. the furnishment was a secondary matter. it is to be added that in course of the business there were two things from which uel extracted great pleasure; syama always had money to pay promptly for everything he bought; in the next place, communication with him was astonishingly easy. his eyes made up for the deficiency in hearing; while his signs, gestures, and looks were the perfection of pantomime. of evenings the child never tired watching him in conversation. while we go now to bring the wanderer up, it should not be forgotten that the house, completely furnished, is awaiting him, and he has only to knock at the door, enter, and be at home. chapter ii the pilgrim at el katif the bay of bahrein indents the western shore of the persian gulf. hard by the point on the north at which it begins its inland bend rise the whitewashed, one-story mud-houses of the town el katif. belonging to the arabs, the most unchangeable of peoples, both the town and the bay were known in the period of our story by their present names. the old town in the old time derived importance chiefly from the road which, leading thence westwardly through hejr yemameh, brought up, after many devious stretches across waterless wastes of sand, at el derayeh, a tented capital of the bedouins, and there forked, one branch going to medina, the other to mecca. in other words, el katif was to mecca on the east the gate jeddo was to it on the west. when, in annual recurrence, the time for the indispensable hajj, or pilgrimage, came, the name of the town was on the lips of men and women beyond the green sea, and southwardly along the coast of oman, and in the villages and dowars back of the coast under the peaks of akdar, only a little less often than those of the holy cities. then about the first of july the same peoples as pilgrims from irak, afghanistan, india, and beyond those countries even, there being an east and a far east, and pilgrims from arabia, crowded together, noisy, quarrelsome, squalid, accordant in but one thing--a determination to make the hajj lest they might die as jews or christians. the law required the pilgrim to be at mecca in the month of ramazan, the time the prophet himself had become a pilgrim. from el katif the direct journey might be made in sixty days, allowing an average march of twelve miles. by way of medina, it could be made to permit the votary to be present and participate in the observances usual on the day of the mysterious night of destiny. the journey moreover was attended with dangers. winds, drouth, sand storms beset the way; and there were beasts always hungry, and robbers always watchful. the sun beat upon the hills, curtained the levels with mirage, and in the _fiumuras_ kindled invisible fires; so in what the unacclimated breathed and in what they drank of the waters of the land there were diseases and death. the prophet having fixed the month of ramazan for the hajj, pilgrims accustomed themselves to assemblage at constantinople, damascus, cairo and bagdad. if they could not avoid the trials of the road, they could lessen them. borrowing the term caravan as descriptive of the march, they established markets at all convenient places. this is the accounting for one of the notable features of el katif from the incoming of june till the caravan extended itself on the road, and finally disappeared in the yellow farness of the desert. one could not go amiss for purveyors in general. dealers in horses, donkeys, camels, and dromedaries abounded. the country for miles around appeared like a great stock farm. herds overran the lean earth. makers of harness, saddles, box-houdahs, and swinging litters of every variety and price, and contractors of camels, horses, and trains complete did not wait to be solicited; the competition between them was too lively for dignity. hither and thither shepherds drove fatted sheep in flocks, selling them on the hoof. in shady places sandal merchants and clothiers were established; while sample tents spotted the whole landscape. hucksters went about with figs, dates, dried meats and bread. in short, pilgrims could be accommodated with every conceivable necessary. they had only to cry out, and the commodity was at hand. amongst the thousands who arrived at el katif in the last of june, , was a man whose presence made him instantly an object of general interest. he came from the south in a galley of eight oars manned by indian seamen, and lay at anchor three days before landing. his ship bore nothing indicative of nationality except the sailors. she was trim-looking and freshly painted; otherwise there was nothing uncommon in her appearance. she was not for war--that was plain. she floated too lightly to be laden; wherefore those who came to look at her said she could not be in commercial service. almost before furling sail, an awning was stretched over her from bow to stern--an awning which from the shore appeared one great shawl of variegated colors. thereupon the wise in such matters decided the owner was an indian prince vastly rich, come, like a good mohammedan, to approve his faith by pilgrimage. this opinion the stranger's conduct confirmed. while he did not himself appear ashore, he kept up a busy communication by means of his small boat. for three days, it carried contractors of camels and supplies aboard, and brought them back. they described him of uncertain age; he might be sixty, he might be seventy-five. while rather under medium height, he was active and perfectly his own master. he sat in the shade of the awning cross-legged. his rug was a marvel of sheeny silk. he talked arabic, but with an indian accent. his dress was indian--a silken shirt, a short jacket, large trousers, and a tremendous white turban on a red tarbousche, held by an aigrette in front that was a dazzle of precious stones such as only a rajah could own. his attendants were few, but they were gorgeously attired, wore _shintyan_ swung in rich belts from their shoulders, and waited before him speechless and in servile posture. one at his back upheld an umbrella of immense spread. he indulged few words, and they were strictly business. he wanted a full outfit for the hajj; could the contractor furnish him twenty camels of burden, and four swift dromedaries? two of the latter were to carry a litter for himself; the other two were for his personal attendants, whom he desired furnished with well-shaded _shugdufs_. the camels he would load with provisions. while speaking, he would keep his eyes upon the person addressed with an expression uncomfortably searching. most extraordinary, however, he did not once ask about prices. one of the shaykhs ventured an inquiry. "how great will his highness' suite be?" "four." the shaykh threw up his hands. "o allah! four dromedaries and twenty camels for four men!" "abuser of the salt," said the stranger calmly, "hast thou not heard of the paschal charity, and of the fine to the poor? shall i go empty handed to the most sacred of cities?" finally an agent was found who, in concert with associates, undertook to furnish the high votary with all he asked complete. the morning of the fourth day after his arrival the indian was pulled ashore, and conducted out of town a short distance to where, on a rising ground, a camp had been set up provisionally for his inspection. there were tents, one for storage of goods and provisions; one for the suite; one for the chief shaykh, the armed guards, the tent pitchers, and the camel drivers; and a fourth one, larger than the others, for the prince himself. with the dromedaries, camels, and horses, the camp was accepted; then, as was the custom, the earnest money was paid. by set of sun the baggage was removed from the ship, and its partition into cargoes begun. the prince of india had no difficulty in hiring all the help he required. of the thirty persons who constituted the train ten were armed horsemen, whose appearance was such that, if it were answered by a commensurate performance, the prince might at his leisure march irrespective of the caravan. nor was he unmindful in the selection of stores for the journey. long before the sharp bargainers with whom he dealt were through with him, he had won their best opinion, not less by his liberality than for his sound judgment. they ceased speaking of him sneeringly as the _miyan_. [footnote: barbarous indian] soon as the bargain was bound, the stranger's attendants set about the furnishment of the master's tent. outside they painted it green. the interior they divided into two equal compartments; one for reception, the other for a _maglis_ or drawing-room; and besides giving the latter divans and carpets, they draped the ceiling in the most tasteful manner with the shawls which on the ship had served for awning. at length, everything in the catalogue of preparation having been attended to, it remained only to wait the day of general departure; and for that, as became his greatness, the prince kept his own quarters, paying no attention to what went on around him. he appeared a man who loved solitude, and was averse to thinking in public. chapter iii the yellow air [footnote: the plague is known amongst arabs as "the yellow air."] one evening the reputed indian sat by the door of his tent alone. the red afterglow of the day hung in the western sky. overhead the stars were venturing timidly out. the camels were at rest, some chewing their cuds, others asleep, their necks stretched full length upon the warm earth. the watchmen in a group talked in low voices. presently the cry of a muezzin, calling to prayer, flew in long, quavering, swelling notes through the hushed air. others took up the call, clearer or fainter according to the distance; and so was it attuned to the feeling invoked by the conditions of the moment that no effort was required of a listener to think it a refrain from the sky. the watchmen ceased debating, drew a little apart from each other, spread their _abbas_ on the ground, and stepping upon them barefooted, their faces turned to where mecca lay, began the old unchangeable prayer of islam--_god is god, and mahomet is his prophet_. the pilgrim at the tent door arose, and when his rude employes were absorbed in their devotions, like them, he too prayed, but very differently. "god of israel--my god!" he said, in a tone hardly more than speaking to himself. "these about me, my fellow creatures, pray thee in the hope of life, i pray thee in the hope of death. i have come up from the sea, and the end was not there; now i will go into the desert in search of it. or if i must live, lord, give me the happiness there is in serving thee. thou hast need of instruments of good; let me henceforth be one of them, that by working for thy honor, i may at last enjoy the peace of the blessed--amen." timing his movements with those of the watchmen, he sank to his knees, and repeated the prayer; when they fell forward, their faces to the earth in the _rik'raths_ so essential by the mohammedan code, he did the same. when they were through the service, he went on with it that they might see him. a careful adherence to this conduct gained him in a short time great repute for sanctity, making the pilgrimage enjoyable as well as possible to him. the evening afterglow faded out, giving the world to night and the quiet it affects; still the melancholy indian walked before his tent, his hands clasped behind him, his chin in the beard on his breast. let us presume to follow his reflections. "fifty years! a lifetime to all but me. lord, how heavy is thy hand when thou art in anger!" he drew a long breath, and groaned. "fifty years! that they are gone, let those mourn to whom time is measured in scanty dole." he became retrospective. "the going to cipango was like leaving the world. war had yielded to contentions about religion. i wearied of them also. my curse is to weary of everything. i wonder if the happiness found in the affection of women is more lasting?" he pursued the thought awhile, finishing with a resolution. "if the opportunity comes my way, i will try it. i remember yet the mother of my lael, though i did not understand the measure of the happiness she brought me until she died." he returned then to the first subject. "when will men learn that faith is a natural impulse, and pure religion but faith refined of doubt?" the question was succeeded by a wordless lapse in his mind, the better apparently to prolong the pleasure he found in the idea. "god help me," he presently resumed, "to bring about an agreement in that definition of religion! there can be no reform or refinement of faith except god be its exclusive subject; and so certainly it leads to lopping off all parasitical worships such as are given to christ and mahomet.... fifty years ago the sects would have tortured me had i mentioned god as a principle broad and holy enough for them to stand upon in compromise of their disputes; they may not be better disposed now, yet i will try them. if i succeed i will not be a vulgar monument builder like alexander; neither will i divide a doubtful fame with caesar. my glory will be unique. i will have restored mankind to their true relations with god. i will be their arbiter in religion. then surely"--he lifted his face appealingly as to a person enthroned amidst the stars--"surely thou wilt release me from this too long life.... if i fail"--he clinched his hands--"if i fail, they may exile me, they may imprison me, they may stretch me on the rack, but they cannot kill me." then he walked rapidly, his head down, like a man driven. when he stopped it was to say to himself uncertainly: "i feel weak at heart. misgivings beset me. lord, lord, how long am i to go on thus cheating myself? if thou wilt not pardon me, how can i hope honor from my fellow men? why should i struggle to serve them?" again he clinched his hands. "oh, the fools, the fools! will they never be done? when i went away they were debating, was mahomet a prophet? was christ the messiah? and they are debating yet. what miseries i have seen come of the dispute!" from this to the end, the monologue was an incoherent discursive medley, now plaintive, now passionate, at times prayerful, then exultant. as he proceeded, he seemed to lose sight of his present aim at doing good in the hope of release from termless life, and become the jew he was born. "the orators called in the sword, and they plied each other with it through two hundred years and more. there were highways across europe blazoned with corpses.... but they were great days. i remember them. remember manuel's appeal to gregory. i was present at the council of clermont. i heard urban's speech. i saw walter, the beggar of burgundy, a fugitive in constantinople; but his followers, those who went out with him--where were they? i saw peter, the eremite and coward, dragged back, a deserter, to the plague-smitten camps of antioch. i helped vote godfrey king of jerusalem, and carried a candle at his coronation. i saw the hosts of louis vii and conrad, a million and more, swallowed up in iconia and the pisidian mountains. then, that the persecutors of my race might not have rest, i marched with saladin to the re-conquest of the holy city, and heard philip and richard answer his challenge. the brave kurd, pitying the sorrows of men, at last agreed to tolerate christians in jerusalem as pilgrims; and there the strife might have ended, but i played upon the ambition of baldwin, and set europe in motion again. no fault of mine that the knight stopped at constantinople as king of the east. then the second frederick presumed to make a christian city of jerusalem. i resorted to the turks, and they burned and pillaged it, and captured st. louis, the purest and best of the crusaders. he died in my arms. never before had i a tear for man or woman of his faith! then came edward i., and with him the struggle as a contest of armies terminated. by decision of the sword, mahomet _was_ the prophet of god, and christ but the carpenter's son.... by permission of the kaliphs, the christians might visit jerusalem as pilgrims. a palmer's staff in place of a sword! for shield, a beggar's scrip! but the bishops accepted, and then ushered in an age of fraud, christian against christian.... the knoll on which the byzantine built his church of the holy sepulchre is not the calvary. that the cowled liars call the sepulchre never held the body of christ. the tears of the millions of penitents have but watered a monkish deceit.... fools and blasphemers! the via dolorosa led out of the damascus gate on the north. the skull-shaped hill beyond that gate is the golgotha. who should know it better than i? the centurion asked for a guide; i walked with him. hyssop was the only green thing growing upon the mount; nothing but hyssop has grown there since. at the base on the west was a garden, and the sepulchre was in the garden. from the foot of the cross i looked toward the city, and there was a sea of men extending down to the gate.... i know!--i know!--i and misery know!... when i went out fifty years ago there was an agreement between the ancient combatants; each vied with the other in hating and persecuting the jew, and there was no limit to the afflictions he endured from them.... speak thou, o hebron, city of the patriarchs! by him who sits afar, and by him near unto thee, by the stars this peaceful night, and by the everlasting who is above the stars, be thou heard a witness testifying! there was a day when thou didst stand open to the children of israel; for the cave and the dead within it belonged to them. then herod built over it, and shut it up, though without excluding the tribes. the christian followed herod; yet the hebrew might pay his way in. after the christian, the moslem; and now nor david the king, nor son of his, though they alighted at the doors from chariots, and beat upon them with their crowns and sceptres, could pass in and live.... kings have come and gone, and generations, and there is a new map from which old names have been dropped. as respects religion, alas! the divisions remain--here a mohammedan, there a christian, yonder a judean.... from my door i study these men, the children of those in life at my going into exile. their ardor is not diminished. to kiss a stone in which tradition has planted a saying of god, they will defy the terrors of the desert, heat, thirst, famine, disease, death. i bring them an old idea in a new relation--god, giver of life and power to son and prophet--god, alone entitled to worship--god, a principle of supreme holiness to which believers can bring their creeds and doctrines for mergence in a treaty of universal brotherhood. will they accept it? ... yesterday i saw a schiah and a sunite meet, and the old hate darkened their faces as they looked at each other. between them there is only a feud of islamites; how much greater is their feud with christians? how immeasurably greater the feud between christian and jew? ... my heart misgives me! lord! can it be i am but cherishing a dream?" at sight of a man approaching through the dusk, he calmed himself. "peace to thee, hadji," said the visitor, halting. "is it thou, shaykh?" "it is i, my father's son. i have a report to make." "i was thinking of certain holy things of priceless worth, sayings of the prophet. tell me what thou hast?" the shaykh saluted him, and returned, "the caravan will depart to-morrow at sunrise." "be it so. we are ready. i will designate our place in the movement. thou art dismissed." "o prince! i have more to report." "more?" "a vessel came in to-day from hormuz on the eastern shore, bringing a horde of beggars." "bismillah! it was well i hired of thee a herd of camels, and loaded them with food. i shall pay my fine to the poor early." the shaykh shook his head. "that they are beggars is nothing," he said. "allah is good to all his creatures. the jackals are his, and must be fed. for this perhaps the unfortunates were blown here by the angel that rides the yellow air. four corpses were landed, and their clothes sold in the camp." "thou wouldst say," the prince rejoined, "that the plague will go with us to the kaaba. content thee, shaykh. allah will have his way." "but my men are afraid." "i will place a drop of sweetened water on their lips, and bring them safe through, though they are dying. tell them as much." the shaykh was departing when the prince, shrewdly suspecting it was he who feared, called him back. "how call ye the afternoon prayer, o shaykh?" "el asr." "what didst thou when it was called?" "am i not a believer? i prayed." "and thou hast heard the arafat sermon?" "even so, o prince." "then, as thou art a believer, and a hadji, o shaykh, thou and all with thee shalt see the khatib on his dromedary, and hear him again. only promise me to stay till his last _amin_." "i promise," said the shaykh, solemnly. "go--but remember prayer is the bread of faith." the shaykh was comforted, and withdrew. with the rising of the sun next day the caravan, numbering about three thousand souls, defiled confusedly out of the town. the prince, who might have been first, of choice fell in behind the rest. "why dost thou take this place, o prince?" asked the shaykh, who was proud of his company, and their comparative good order. he received for answer, "the blessings of allah are with the dying whom the well-to-do and selfish in front have passed unnoticed." the shaykh repeated the saying to his men, and they replied: "ebn-hanife was a dervish: so is this prince--exalted be his name!" eulogy could go no further. chapter iv el zaribah "i will be their arbiter in religion," said the indian mystic in his monologue. this is to be accepted as the motive of the scheme the singular man was pursuing in the wastes of arabia. it must be taken of course with his other declaration--"there can be no reform or refinement of faith except god be its exclusive subject; and so certainly it leads to lopping off all parasitical worships such as are given to christ and mahomet." fifty years prior, disgusted with the endless and inconsequential debates and wars between islam and christianity, he had betaken himself to cipango, [footnote: supposably japan.] wherever that might be. there, in a repentant hour, he had conceived the idea of a universal religious brotherhood, with god for its accordant principle; and he was now returned to present and urge the compromise. in more distinct statement, he was making the pilgrimage to ascertain from personal observation if the mohammedan portion of the world was in a consenting mood. it was not his first visit to mecca; but the purpose in mind gave the journey a new zest; and, as can be imagined, nothing in the least indicative of the prevalent spirit of the hajj escaped him. readers following the narrative should keep this explanation before them. from el derayah the noble pilgrim had taken the longer route by way of medina, where he scrupulously performed the observances decreed for the faithful at the mosque of the prophet. thence he descended with the caravan from damascus. dawn of the sixth of september broke over the rolling plain known as the valley of el zaribah, disclosing four tents pitched on an eminence to the right of a road running thence south-west. these tents, connected by ropes, helped perfect an enclosure occupied by horses, donkeys, camels and dromedaries, and their cumbrous equipments. several armed men kept watch over the camp. the valley out to the pink granite hills rimming it round wore a fresh green tint in charming contrast with the tawny-black complexion of the region through which the day's journey had stretched. water at a shallow depth nourished camel grass in patches, and theban palms, the latter much scattered and too small to be termed trees. the water, and the nearness of the holy city--only one day distant--had, in a time long gone, won for el zaribah its double appointment of meeting place for the caravans and place of the final ceremony of assumption of the costume and vows _el ihram_. the prophet himself had prescribed the ceremony; so the pilgrims in the camp on the eminence, the better to observe it and at the same time get a needful rest, had come up during the night in advance of the caravans. in other words, the prince of india--the title by which he was now generally known--might, at the opening hour of the day, have been found asleep in the larger of the four tents; the one with the minaret in miniature so handsomely gilded and of such happy effect over the centre pole. along the roadsides and on the high grounds of the valley other tints were visible, while faint columns of smoke arising out of the hollows told of preparations for breakfast. these signified the presence of hucksters, barbers, costume dealers, and traders generally, who, in anticipation of the arrival of the caravans, had come from the city to exercise their callings. amongst them, worthy of special attention, was a multitude of professional guides, [footnote: _mutawif_.] ready for a trifling hire to take charge of uninitiated pilgrims, and lead them regardfully through the numerous ceremonies to which they were going. shortly after noon the prince called in a guide, and several barbers, men with long gowns, green turbans, brass basins, sharp knives, and bright bladed scissors. the assumption of the real pilgrimage by his people was then begun. each man submitted his head, mustaches, and nails to the experts, and bathed and perfumed himself, and was dusted with musk. next the whole party put off their old garments, and attired themselves in the two white vestments _el ihram_.[footnote: a mantle and skirt of white cloth unsewn.] the change of apparel was for the better. finally the votaries put on sandals peculiar in that nothing pertaining to them might cover the instep; then they stood up in a row faced toward mecca, and repeated the ancient formula of dedication of the _ihram_ to the almighty slowly intoned for them by the guide. the solemn demeanor of the men during the ceremony, which was tedious and interspersed with prayers and curious recitals, deeply impressed the prince, who at the end of the scene retired into his tent, with his three mute attendants, and there performed the vows for himself and them. there also they all assumed the indispensable costume. then, as he well might do, the law permitting him to seek the shade of a house or a tent, he had a rug spread before his door, where, in the fresh white attire, he seated himself, and with a jar of expressed juice of pomegranates at his side made ready to witness the passing of the caravans, the dust of which was reported visible in the east. afterwhile the cloud of dust momentarily deepening over in that direction was enlivened by a clash of cymbals and drums, blent with peals of horns, the fine, high music yet cherished by warriors of the orient. presently a body of horsemen appeared, their spear points glistening in the sunlight. a glance at them, then his gaze fixed upon a chief in leading. the sun had been hot all day; the profiles of the low hills were dim with tremulous haze lying scorchingly upon them; the furred hulks of the camels in the enclosure looked as if they were smoking; the sky held nothing living except two kites which sailed the upper air slowly, their broad wings at widest extension; yet the chief persisted in wearing his arms and armor, like the soldiers behind him. ere long he rode up and halted in front of the prince, and near by. his head was covered with a visorless casque, slightly conical, from the edge of which, beginning about the temples, a cape of fine steel rings, buckled under the chin, enveloped the neck and throat, and fell loosely over the neck and shoulders, and part way down the back. a shirt of linked mail, pliable as wool, defended the body and the arms to the elbows; overalls of like material, save that the parts next the saddle were leather, clothed the thighs and legs. as the casque and every other link of the mail were plated with gold, the general effect at a distance was as if the whole suit were gold. a surcoat of light green cloth hung at the back half hiding a small round shield of burnished brass; at the left side there was a cimeter, and in the right hand a lance. the saddle was of the high-seated style yet affected by horsemen of circassia; at the pommel a bow and well-filled quiver were suspended, and as the stirrups were in fact steel slippers the feet were amply protected by them. at sight of the martial figure, the indian, in admiration, arose to a sitting posture. such, he thought, were the warriors who followed saladin! and when the stranger, reaching the summit of the eminence, turned out of the road coming apparently to the door of the tent, he involuntarily sprang to his feet ready to do him honor. the face, then plainly seen, though strong of feature, and thoroughly bronzed, was that of a young man not more than twenty-two or three, dark-eyed, mustached and bearded, and of a serious though pleasant expression. he kept his seat with ease and grace; if he and the broad-chested dark-bay horse were not really one, they were one in spirit; together they wrought the impression which was the origin of _majesty_, a title for kings. while the prince was turning this in his mind, the soldier pulled rein, and stopped long enough to glance at him and at the camp; then, turning the horse, he looked the other way, making it apparent he had taken position on the rise to overlook the plain, and observe the coming and dispersion of the caravans. another mounted man ascended the hill, armed and armored like the first one, though not so richly, and bearing a standard of dulled yellow silk hanging from a gilded staff. the ground of the standard was filled with inscriptions in red lettering, leaving the golden crescent and star on the point of the staff to speak of nationality. the bearer of the flag dismounted, and at a sign planted it in the ground. seeing his shaykh, the prince called him: "who is the warrior yonder?--he in the golden armor?" "the emir el hajj, [footnote: chief officer of the pilgrimage. the appointment was considered the highest favor in the sultan's gift.] o prince." "he the emir el hajj!--and so young?--oh! a hero of the serail. the kislar aga extolled him one day." "thy remark and common report, o excellent prince, could not journey together on the same camel," said the shaykh. "in the khan at medina i heard his story. there is a famous enemy of the turks, iskander bey, in strength a jinn, whose sword two men can scarcely lift. he appeared before the army of the sultan one day with a challenge. he whom thou seest yonder alone dared go forth to meet him. the fought from morning till noon; then they rested. 'who art thou?' asked iskander. 'i am a slave of amurath, the commander of the faithful, who hath commissioned me to take thee to him dead or alive.' iskander laughed, and said, 'i know by thy tongue now thou art not a turk; and to see if the commander of the faithful, as thou callest him, hath it in soul to make much of thy merit as a warrior, i will leave thee the honors of the combat, and to go thy way.' whereat they say he lifted his ponderous blade as not heavier than the leaf of a dead palm, and strode from the field." the prince listened, and at the end said, like a man in haste: "thou knowest nilo, my black man. bring him hither." the shaykh saluted gravely, and hurried away, leaving his patron with eyes fixed on the emir, and muttering: "so young!--and in such favor with the old amurath! i will know him. if i fail, he may be useful to me. who knows? who knows?" he looked upward as if speaking to some one there. meantime the emir was questioning the ensign. "this pilgrim," he said, "appears well provided." and the ensign answered: "he is the indian prince of whom i have been hearing since we left medina." "what hast thou heard?" "that being rich, he is open-handed, making free with his aspers as sowers with their seed." "what more?" "he is devout and learned as an imam. his people call him malik. of the prayers he knows everything. as the hours arrive, he lifts the curtains of his litter, and calls them with a voice like belal's. the students in the mosque would expire of envy could they see him bend his back in the benedictions." "_bismillah!_" "they say also that in the journey from el katif to medina he travelled behind the caravan when he might have been first." "i see not the virtue in that. the hill-men love best to attack the van." "tell me, o emir, which wouldst thou rather face, a hill-man or the yellow air?" "the hill-man," said the other decidedly. "and thou knowest when those in front abandon a man struck with the disease?" "yes." "and then?" "the vultures and the jackals have their rights." "true, o emir, but listen. the caravan left el katif three thousand strong. three hundred and more were struck with the plague, and left to die; of those, over one hundred were brought in by the indian. they say it was for this he preferred to march in the rear. he himself teaches a saying of the _hadis_, that allah leaves his choicest blessings to be gathered from amidst the poor and the dying." "if he thou describest be not a prince of india as he claims, he is a"-- "a _mashaikh_." [footnote: holier than a dervish.] "ay, by the most merciful! but how did he save the castaways?" "by a specific known only to kings and lords in his country. can he but reach the plague-struck before death, a drop on the tongue will work a cure. thou heardst what he did at medina?" "no." "the masjid el nabawi [footnote: tomb of the prophet.] as thou knowest, o emir, hath many poor who somehow live in its holy shade." "i know it," said the emir, with a laugh. "i went in the house rich, and come out of it poorer than the poorest of the many who fell upon me at the doors." "well," the ensign continued, not heeding the interruption, "he called them in, and fed them; not with rice, and leeks, and bread ten days sour, but with dishes to rejoice a kaliph; and they went away swearing the soul of the prophet was returned to the world." at this juncture a troop of horsemen ascending the hill brought the conversation to a stop. the uniformity of arms and armor, the furniture of the steeds, the order and regularity of the general movement, identified the body as some favorite corps of the turkish army; while the music, the bristling lances, the many-folded turbans, and the half-petticoated trousers threw about it a glamor of purest orientalism. in the midst of the troop, a vanguard in front, a rearguard behind them, central objects of care and reverence, moved the sacred camels, tall, powerful brutes, more gigantic in appearance because of their caparisoning and the extraordinary burdens they bore. they too were in full regalia, their faces visored in silk and gold, their heads resplendent with coronets of drooping feathers, their ample neck cloths heavy with tasselled metallic fringing falling to the knees. each one was covered with a mantle of brocaded silk arranged upon a crinoline form to give the effect somewhat of the curved expansion on the rim of a bell. on the humps rose pavilions of silk in flowing draperies, on some of which the entire _fatihah_ was superbly embroidered. over the pavilions arose enormous aigrettes of green and black feathers. such were the _mahmals_, containing, among other things of splendor and fabulous value, the _kiswah_ which the sultan was forwarding to the scherif of mecca to take the place of the worn curtains then draping the tabernacle or house of god. the plumed heads of the camels, and the yet more richly plumed pavilions, exalted high above the horsemen, moved like things afloat. one may not tell what calamities to body and soul would overtake the emir el hajj did he fail to deliver the _mahmals_ according to consignment. while the cavalry came up the hill the musicians exerted themselves; at the top, the column turned and formed line left of the emir, followed by strings of camels loaded with military properties, and a horde of camp-followers known as _farrash_. presently another camp was reared upon the eminence, its white roofs shining afar over the plain, and in their midst one of unusual dimensions for the sultan's gifts. the caravans in the meantime began to emerge from the dun cloud of their own raising, and spread at large over the land; and when the young emir was most absorbed in the spectacle the prince's shaykh approached him. "o emir!" the arab said, after a salaam. a wild fanfare of clarions, cymbals, and drums drowning his voice, he drew nearer, almost to the stirrup. "o emir!" he said again. this time he was heard. "what wouldst thou?" there was the slightest irritation in the tone, and on the countenance of the speaker as he looked down; but the feeling behind it vanished at sight of a negro whose native blackness was intensified by the spotless white of the ihram in which he was clad. perhaps the bright platter of beaten copper the black man bore, and the earthen bottle upon it, flanked by two cups, one of silver, the other of crystal, had something to do with the emir's change of manner and mind. "what wouldst thou?" he asked, slightly bending towards them. the shaykh answered: "the most excellent hadji, my patron, whom thou mayst see reclining at the door of his tent, sends thee greeting such as is lawful from one true believer to another travelling for the good of their souls to the most holy of cities; and he prays thou wilt accept from him a draught of this water of pomegranates, which he vouches cooling to the tongue and healthful to the spirit, since he bought it at the door of the house of the prophet--to whom be prayer and praise forever." during the speech, the negro, with a not unpractised hand, and conscious doubtless of the persuasion there was in the sound and sparkle of the beverage, especially to one not yet dismounted from a long ride on the desert, filled the cups, and held them up for acceptance. stripping the left hand of its steel-backed gauntlet, the emir lifted the glass, and, with a bow to the pilgrim then arisen and standing by the tent-door, drank it at a draught; whereupon, leaving the ensign to pay like honor to the offered hospitality, he wheeled his horse, and rode to make acknowledgment in person. "the favor thou hast done me, o hadji," he said, dismounted, "is in keeping with the acts of mercy to thy fellow-men with which i hear thou hast paved the road from el katif as with mother-of-pearl." "speak not of them, i pray," the wanderer answered, returning the bow he received. "who shall refuse obedience to the law?" "i see plainly thou art a good man," the emir said, bowing again. "it would not become me to say so. turning to something better, this tent in the wilderness is mine, and as the sun is not declined to its evening quarter, perhaps, o gallant emir, it would be more to thy comfort were we to go within. i, and all i have, are at thy command." "i am grateful for the offer, most excellent hadji--if the address be lower than thy true entitlement, thou shouldst bring the shaykh yonder to account for misleading a stranger--but the sun and i have become unmindful of each other, and duty is always the same in its demands at least. here, because the valley is the _micath_, [footnote: meeting place.] the caravans are apt to run wild, and need a restraining hand. i plead the circumstance in excuse for presuming to request that thou wilt allow me to amend thy offer of courtesy." the emir paused, waiting for the permission. "so thou dost accept the offer, amend it as thou wilt," and the prince smiled. then the other returned, with evident satisfaction: "when our brethren of the caravans are settled, and the plain is quiet, and i too have taken the required vows, i will return to thee. my quarters are so close to thine it would please me to be allowed to come alone." "granted, o emir, granted--if, on thy side, thou wilt consent to permit me to give thee of the fare i may yet have at disposal. i can promise thou shalt not go away hungry." "be it so." thereupon the emir remounted, and went back to his stand overlooking the plain, and the coming of the multitude. chapter v the passing of the caravans from his position the wanderer could see the advancing caravans; but as the spectacle would consume the afternoon, he called his three attendants, and issued directions for the entertainment of the emir in the evening; this done, he cast himself upon the rug, and gave rein to his curiosity, thinking, not unreasonably, to find in what would pass before him something bearing on the subject ever present in his mind. the sky could not be called blue of any tint; it seemed rather to be filled with common dust mixed with powder of crushed brick. the effect was of a semi-transparent ceiling flushed with heat from the direct down-beating action of the sun, itself a disk of flame. low mountains, purplish black in hue, made a horizon on which the ceiling appeared set, like the crystal in the upper valve of a watch. thus shut in, but still fair to view east and south of the position the spectator occupied, lay el zaribah, whither, as the appointed meeting place, so many pilgrims had for days and weeks ever wearier growing been "walking with their eyes." in their thought the valley was not so much a garden or landscape of beauty as an ante-chamber of the house of allah. as they neared it now, journeying since the break of day, impatience seized them; so when the cry sped down the irregular column--"it is here! it is here!" they answered with a universal _labbayaki_, signifying, "thou hast called us--here we are, here we are!" then breaking into a rabble, they rushed multitudinously forward. to give the reader an idea of the pageant advancing to possess itself of the valley, it will be well to refresh his memory with a few details. he should remember, in the first place, that it was not merely the caravan which left el katif over on the western shore of the green sea, but two great caravans merged into one--_el shemi_, from damascus, and _misri_, from cairo. to comprehend these, the region they drained of pilgrims should be next considered. for example, at cairo there was a concentration from the two egypts, upper and lower, from the mysterious deserts of africa, and from the cities and countries along the southern shore of the mediterranean far as gibraltar; while the whole east, using the term in its most comprehensive sense, emptied contingents of the devout into damascus. in forwarding the myriads thus poured down upon them the arabs were common carriers, like the venetians to the hordes of western europe in some of the later crusades; so to their thousands of votaries proper, the other thousands of them engaged in the business are also to be computed. el medina was the great secondary rendezvous. hardly could he be accounted of the faithful who in making the pilgrimage would turn his back upon the bones of the prophet; of such merit was the saying, "one prayer in this thy mosque is of more virtue than a thousand in other places, save only the masjid el haram." once at medina, how could the pilgrim refuse his presence, if not his tears, at el kuba, forever sacred to the mohammedan heart as the first place of public prayer in islam? finally, it should not be forgotten that the year we write of belonged to a cycle when readers of the koran and worshippers at mecca were more numerous than now, if not more zealous and believing. and it was to witness the passing of this procession, so numerous, so motley, so strangely furnished, so uncontrolled except as it pleased, the prince of india was seated at the door of his tent upon the hill. long before the spectacle was sighted in the distance, its approach was announced by an overhanging pillar of cloud, not unlike that which went before the israelites in their exodus through similar wastes. shortly after the interview with the emir, the prince, looking under the pillar, saw a darkening line appear, not more at first than a thread stretched across a section of the east. the apparition was without a break; nor might he have said it was in motion or of any depth. a sound came from the direction not unlike that of a sibilant wind. presently out of the perspective, which reduced the many to one and all sizes to a level, the line developed into unequal divisions, with intervals between them; about the same time the noise became recognizable as the voices fiercely strained and inarticulate of an innumerable host of men. then the divisions broke into groups, some larger than others; a little later individuals became discernible; finally what had appeared a line resolved itself into a convulsing mass, without front, without wings, but of a depth immeasurable. the pilgrims did not attempt to keep the road; having converted their march into a race, they spread right and left over the country, each seeking a near way; sometimes the object was attained, sometimes not; the end was a confusion beyond description. the very inequalities of the ground helped the confusion. a group was one moment visible on a height; then it vanished in a hollow. now there were thousands on a level; then, as if sinking, they went down, down, and presently where they were there was only dust or a single individual. afterwhile, so wide was the inrolling tide, the field of vision overflowed, and the eye was driven to ranging from point to point, object to object. then it was discernible that the mass was mixed of animals and men--here horses, there camels--some with riders, some without--all, the burdened as well as unburdened, straining forward under urgency of shriek and stick--forward for life--forward as if of the two "comforts," success beckoned them in front, and despair behind plied them with spears. [footnote: in the philosophy of the arabs success and despair are treated as comforts.] at length the eastern boundary of the valley was reached. there one would suppose the foremost of the racers, the happy victors, would rest or, at their leisure, take of the many sites those they preferred; but no--the penalty attaching to the triumph was the danger of being run down by the thousands behind. in going on there was safety--and on they went. to this time the spectacle had been a kind of panoramic generality; now the details came to view, and accustomed as he was to marvels of pageantry, the prince exclaimed: "these are not men, but devils fleeing from the wrath of god!" and involuntarily he went nearer, down to the brink of the height. it seemed the land was being inundated with camels; not the patient brutes we are used to thinking of by that name, with which domestication means ill-treatment and suffering--the slow-going burden-bearers, always appealing to our sympathy because always apparently tired, hungry, sleepy, worn-out--always reeling on as if looking for quiet places in which to slip their loads of whatever kind, and lie down and die; but the camel aroused, enraged, frightened, panic-struck, rebellious, sending forth strange cries, and running with all its might--an army of camels hurling their gigantic hulks along at a rate little less than blind impetus. and they went, singly, and in strings, and yonder a mass. the slower, and those turned to the right or left of the direct course, and all such as had hesitated upon coming to a descent, were speedily distanced or lost to sight; so the ensemble was constantly shifting. and then the rolling and tossing of the cargoes and packages on the backs of the animals, and the streaming out of curtains, scarfs, shawls, and loose draperies of every shape and color, lent touches of drollery and bright contrasts to the scene. one instant the spectator on the hill was disposed to laugh, then to admire, then to shiver at the immensity of a danger; over and over again amidst his quick variation of feeling, he repeated the exclamation: "these are not men, but devils fleeing from the wrath of god!" such was the spectacle in what may be called the second act; presently it reached a third; and then the fury of the movement, so inconsistent with the habits and patient nature of the camel, was explained. in the midst of the hurly-burly, governing and directing it, were horsemen, an army of themselves. some rode in front, and the leading straps on which they pulled with the combined strength of man and horse identified them as drivers; others rode as assistants of the drivers, and they were armed with goads which they used skilfully and without mercy. there were many collisions, upsets, and entanglements; yet the danger did not deter the riders from sharing the excitement, and helping it forward to their utmost. they too used knotted ropes, and stabbed with sharpened sticks; they also contributed to the unearthly tumult of sounds which travelled with the mob, a compound of prayers, imprecations, and senseless screams--the medley that may be occasionally heard from a modern mad-house. in the height of the rush the shaykh came up. "how long," said the prince--"in the prophet's name, how long will this endure?" "till night, o most excellent hadji--if the caravans be so long in coming." "is it usual?" "it has been so from the beginning." thereupon the curiosity of the prince took another turn. a band of horsemen galloped into view--free riders, with long lances carried upright, their caftans flying, and altogether noble looking. "these are arabs. i know by their horses and their bearing," said he, with admiration; "but possibly thou canst give me the name of their tribe." the shaykh answered with pride: "their horses are gray, and by the sign, o lover of the prophet, they are the beni-yarb. every other one of them is a poet; in the face of an enemy, they are all warriors." the camps on the hill, with the yellow flag giving notice of the emir's station, had effect upon others besides the yarbis; all who wished to draw out of the _melange_ turned towards them, bringing the spectacle in part to the very feet of the wanderer; whereas he thought with a quicker beating of the heart, "the followers of the prophet are coming to show me of what they are this day composed." then he said to the shaykh, "stand thou here, and tell me as i shall ask." the conversation between them may be thus summarized: the current which poured past then, its details in perfect view, carried along with it all the conditions and nationalities of the pilgrimage. natives of the desert on bare-backed camels, clinging to the humps with one hand, while they pounded with the other--natives on beautiful horses, not needing whip or spur--natives on dromedaries so swift, sure-footed, and strong there was no occasion for fear. men, and often women and children, on ragged saddle-cloths, others in pretentious boxes, and now and then a person whose wealth and rank were published by the magnificence of the litter in which he was borne, swinging luxuriously between long-stepping dromedaries from el sbark. "by allah!" the prince exclaimed. "here hath barbarism its limit! behold!" they of whom he spoke came up in irregular array mounted on dromedaries without housing. at their head rode one with a white lettered green flag, and beating an immense drum. they were armed with long spears of indian bamboo, garnished below the slender points with swinging tufts of ostrich feathers. each carried a woman behind him disdainful of a veil. the feminine screams of exultation rose high above the yells of the men, helping not a little to the recklessness with which the latter bore onward. woe to such in their way as were poorly mounted. in a twinkling they were ridden down. nor did those fare better who were overtaken struggling with a string of camels. the crash of bursting boxes, the sharp report of rending ropes, the warning cry, the maddening cheer; a battle of men, another of beasts--and when the collision had passed, the earth was strewn with its wreck. "they are wahabbas, o hadji," said the shaykh. "thou seest the tufts on their spears. under them they carry _jehannum_." "and these now coming?" asked the prince. "their long white hats remind me of persia." "persians they are," replied the shaykh, his lip curling, his eyes gleaming. "they will tear their clothes, and cut their shaven crowns, and wail, 'woe's me, o ali!' then kiss the kaaba with defilement on their beards. the curse of the _shaykaim_ is on them--may it stay there!" then the prince knew it was a sunite speaking of schiahs. yet others of the cafila of bagdad passed with the despised sons of iran; notably deccanese, hindoos, afghans, and people from the himalayas, and beyond them far as kathay, and china, and siam, all better known to the prince than to his shaykh, who spoke of them, saying, "thou shouldst know thine own, o hadji! thou art their father!" next, in a blending that permitted no choice of associates, along swept the chief constituents of the caravans--moors and blackamoors, egyptians, syrians, turks, kurds, caucasians, and arabs of every tribe, each a multitude of themselves, and their passing filled up the afternoon. towards sundown the hurry and rush of the movement perceptibly slackened. over in the west there were signs of a halt; tents were rising, and the smoke of multiplying fires began to deepen the blue of the distance. it actually appeared as if settlement for the night would creep back upon the east, whence the irruption had burst. at a moment when the prince's interest in the scene was commencing to flag, and he was thinking of returning to his tent, the rearmost divisions of the pilgrims entered the valley. they were composed of footmen and donkey-riders, for whom the speed of the advance bodies had been too great. high-capped persians, and turks whose turbans were reduced to faded fezes, marched in the van, followed closely by a rabble of takruris, ragged, moneyless, living upon meat of abandoned animals. last of all were the sick and dying, who yet persisted in dragging their fainting limbs along as best they could. might they but reach the holy city! then if they died it would be as martyrs for whom the doors of paradise are always open. with them, expectants of easy prey, like the _rakham_ [footnote: vultures.] sailing in slow circles overhead, flocked the beggars, thieves, outcasts and assassins; but night came quickly, and covered them, and all the things they did, for evil and night have been partners from the beginning. at last the prince returned to his tent. he had seen the sun set over el zaribah; he had seen the passing of the caravans. out there in the valley they lay. they--to him, and for his purposes, the mohammedan world unchanged--the same in composition, in practice, in creed--only he felt now a consciousness of understanding them as never before. mahomet, in his re-introduction of god to man, had imposed himself upon their faith, its master idea, its central figure, the superior in sanctity, the essential condition--the one! knowingly or unknowingly, he left a standard of religious excellence behind him--himself. and by that standard the thief in the wake of the mighty caravans robbing the dead, the thug strangling a victim because he was too slow in dying, were worthy paradise, and would attain it, for they believed in him. faith in the prophet of god was more essential than faith in god. such was the inspiration of islam. a sinking of spirit fell upon the unhappy man. he felt a twinge of the bitterness always waiting on failure, where the undertaking, whatever it be, has enlisted the whole heart. at such times instinctively we turn here and there for help, and in its absence, for comfort and consolation; what should he do now but advert to christianity? what would christians say of his idea? was god lost in christ as he was here in mahomet? chapter vi the prince and the emir in the reception room of the prince's tent the lamps are lighted; one fastened to the stout centre pole, and five others on as many palings planted in the ground, all burning brightly. the illumination is enriched by the admirable blending of colors in the canopy of shawls. within the space defined by the five lamps, on a tufted rug, the mystic and the emir are seated, both in _ihram_, and looking cool and comfortable, though the night outside still testifies to the heat of the day. a wooden trencher, scoured white as ivory, separates the friends, leaving them face to face. in supping they have reached what we call the dessert. on the trencher are slender baskets containing grapes, figs, and dates, the choicest of the gardens of medina. a jar of honey, an assortment of dry biscuits, and two jugs, one of water, the other of juice of pomegranates, with drinking cups, complete the board. at this age, orientals lingering at table have the cheer of coffee and tobacco; unhappily for the two of whom we are writing, neither of the great narcotics was discovered. nevertheless it should not be supposed the fruits, the honey, and the waters failed to content them. behind the host is the negro we already know as nilo. he is very watchful of his master's every motion. as guest and host appear now the formalism of acquaintanceship just made has somewhat disappeared, and they are talking easily and with freedom. occasionally a movement of one or the other brings his head to a favorable angle, whereat the light, dropping on the freshly shaven crown, is sharply glinted back. the emir has been speaking of the plague. "at medina i was told it had run its course," the host remarked. "true, o hadji, but it has returned, and with greater violence. the stragglers were its victims; now it attacks indiscriminately. yesterday the guard i keep in the rear came to a pilgrim of rank. his litter was deserted, and he was lying in it dead." "the man may have been murdered." "nay," said the emir, "gold in large amount was found on his person." "but he had other property doubtless?" "of great value." "what disposition was made of it?" "it was brought to me, and is now with other stores in my tent; a law of ancient institution vesting it in the emir el hajj." the countenance of the jew became serious. "the ownership was not in my thought," he said, waving his hand. "i knew the law; but this scourge of allah has its laws also, and by one of them we are enjoined to burn or bury whatever is found with the body." the emir, seeing the kindly concern of his host, smiled as he answered: "but there is a higher law, o hadji." "i spoke without thinking danger of any kind could disturb thee." the host drew forward the date basket, and the emir, fancying he discerned something on his mind besides the fruit, waited his further speech. "i am reminded of another matter, o brave emir; but as it also is personal i hesitate. indeed i will not speak of it except with permission." "as you will," the other replied, "i will answer--may the prophet help me!" "blessed be the prophet!" said the prince, reverently. "thy confidence doeth me honor, and i thank thee; at the same time i would not presume upon it if thy tongue were less suggestive of a land whose name is music--italy. it is in my knowledge, o emir, that the sultan, thy master--may allah keep him in countenance!--hath in his service many excellent soldiers by birth of other countries than his own, broad as it is--christians, who are none the less of the true faith. wherefore, wilt thou tell me of thyself?" the question did not embarrass the emir. "the answer must be brief," he answered, without hesitation, "because there is little to tell. i do not know my native country. the peculiarity of accent you have mentioned has been observed by others; and as they agreed with you in assigning it to italy, i am nothing loath to account myself an italian. the few shreds of circumstance which came to me in course of time confirmed the opinion, and i availed myself of a favorable opportunity to acquire the tongue. in our further speech, o hadji, you may prefer its use." "at thy pleasure," the host replied; "though there is no danger of our being overheard. nilo, the slave behind me, has been a mute from birth." then, without the slightest interruption, the emir changed his speech from greek to italian. "my earliest remembrance is of being borne in a woman's arms out of doors, under a blue sky, along a margin of white sand, an orchard on one hand, the sea on the other. the report of the waves breaking upon the shore lives distinctly in my memory; so does the color of the trees in the orchard which has since become familiar to me as the green of olives. equally clear is the recollection that, returning in-doors, i was carried into a house of stone so large it must have been a castle. i speak of it, as of the orchard, and the sea, and the roar of the breakers, quite as much by reference to what i have subsequently seen as from trust in my memory." here the host interrupted him to remark: "though an eastern, i have been a traveller in the west, and the description reminds me of the eastern shore of italy in the region of brindisi." "my next recollection," the emir resumed, "is a child's fright, occasioned by furious flames, and thick smoke, and noises familiar now as of battle. there was then a voyage on the sea during which i saw none but bearded men. the period of perfect knowledge so far as my history is concerned began when i found myself an object of the love and care of the wife of a renowned pacha, governor of the city of brousa. she called me _mirza_. my childhood was spent in a harem, and i passed from it into a school to enter upon my training as a soldier. in good time i became a janissary. an opportunity presented itself one day, and i distinguished myself. my master, the sultan, rewarded me by promotion and transfer to the _silihdars_, [footnote: d'oheson.] the most ancient and favored corps of the imperial army, it being the body-guard of the padisha, and garrison of his palace. the yellow flag my ensign carries belongs to that corps. as a further token of his confidence, the sultan appointed me emir el hajj. in these few words, o hadji, you have my history." the listener was impressed with the simplicity of the narrative, and the speaker's freedom from regret, sorrow, or passion of any kind. "it is a sad story, o emir," he said, sympathetically, "and i cannot think it ended. knowest thou not more?" "nothing of incident," was the reply. "all that remains is inferential. the castle was attacked at night by turks landed from their galleys." "and thy father and mother?" "i never knew them." "there is another inference," said the prince, suggestively--"they were christians." "yes, but unbelievers." the suppression of natural affection betrayed by the remark still more astonished the host. "but they believed in god," he said. "they should have believed mahomet was his prophet." "i fear i am giving you pain, o emir." "dismiss the fear, o hadji." again the jew sought the choicest date in the basket. the indifference of his guest was quick fuel to the misgivings which we have already noticed as taking form about his purpose, and sapping and weakening it. to be arbiter in the religious disputes of men, the unique consummation called for by his scheme, the disputants must concede him room and hearing. were all mohammedans, from whom he hoped most, like this one born of christians, then the two conditions would be sternly refused him. by the testimony of this witness, there was nothing in the heredity of faith; and it went to his soul incisively that, in stimulating the passions which made the crusades a recurrence of the centuries, he himself had contributed to the defeat now threatening his latest ambition. the sting went to his soul; yet, by force of will, always at command in the presence of strangers, he repressed his feeling, and said: "everything is as allah wills. let us rejoice that he is our keeper. the determination of our fate, in the sense of what shall happen to us, and what we shall be, and when and where the end shall overtake us, is no more to him than deciding the tint of the rose before the bud is formed. o emir, i congratulate you on the resignation with which you accept his judgment. i congratulate you upon the age in which he has cast your life. he who in a moment of uncertainty would inform himself of his future should not heed his intentions and hopes; by studying his present conditions, he will find himself an oracle unto himself. he should address his best mind to the question, 'i am now in a road; if i keep it, where will i arrive?' and wisdom will answer, 'what are thy desires? for what art thou fitted? what are the opportunities of the time?' most fortunate, o emir, if there be correspondence between the desire, the fitness, and the opportunity!" the emir did not comprehend, and seeing it, the host added with a directness approaching the abrupt: "and now to make the reason of my congratulations clear, it is necessary that thou consent to my putting a seal upon your lips. what sayest thou?" "if i engage my silence, o hadji, it is because i believe you are a good man." the dignity of the emir's answer did not entirely hide the effect of the prince's manner. "know thou then," the latter continued, with a steady, penetrating gaze--"know thou then, there is a brahman of my acquaintance who is a magus. i use the word to distinguish him from the necromancers whom the koran has set in everlasting prohibition. he keeps school in a chapel hid away in the heart of jungles overgrowing a bank of the bermapootra, not far from the mountain gates of the river. he has many scholars, and his intelligence has compassed all knowledge. he is familiar with the supernatural as with the natural. on my way, i visited him.... know thou next, o emir, i too have had occasion to make inquiries of the future. the vulgar would call me an astrologer--not a professional practising for profit, but an adept seeking information because it lifts me so much nearer allah and his sublimest mysteries. very lately i found a celestial horoscope announcing a change in the status of the world. the masterful waves, as you may know, have for many ages flowed from the west; but now, the old roman impetus having at last spent itself, a refluence is to set in, and the east in its turn pour a dominating flood upon the west. the determining stars have slipped their influences. they are in motion. _constantinople is doomed!_" the guest drew a quick breath. understanding was flooding him with light. "and now, o emir, say, if the revelation had stopped there--stopped, i mean, with the overthrow of the christian capital--wouldst thou have been satisfied with it?" "no, by allah, no!" "further, emir. the stars being communicable yet, what wouldst thou have asked them next?" "i would not have rested until i had from them the name of him who is to be leader in the movement." the mystic smiled at the young man's fervor. "thou hast saved me telling what i did, and affirmed the logic of our human nature," he said. "thy imperial master is old, and much worn by wars and cares of government, is he not?" "old in greatness," answered the emir, diplomatically. "hath he not a son?" "a son with all the royal qualities of the father." "but young--not more than eighteen." "not more." "and the prophet hath lent him his name?" "even so." the host released the eager face of the emir from his gaze, while he sought a date in the basket. "another horoscope--the second"--he then said, quietly, "revealed everything but the hero's name. he is to be of kingly birth, and a turk. though a lad, he is already used to arms and armor." "oh! by allah, hadji," cried the guest, his face flushed, his words quick, his voice mandatory. "release me from my pledge of silence. tell me who thou art, that i may report thee, and the things thou sayest. there was never such news to warm a heroic heart." the prince pursued his explanation without apparently noticing the interruption noticing the interruption. "to verify the confidences of the stars, i sought the magus in his chapel by the sacred river. together we consulted them, and made the calculations. he embraced me; but it was agreed between us that absolute verity of the finding could only be had by re-casting the horoscopes at constantinople. thou must know, o emir, there is an astral alphabet which has its origin in the inter-relations of the heavenly bodies, represented by lines impalpable to the common eye; know also that the most favored adept cannot read the mystic letters with the assurance best comporting with verity, except he be at the place of the destined event or revolution. to possess myself of the advantage, i shall ere long visit the ancient capital. more plainly, i am on the way thither now." instead of allaying the eagerness of the emir, the words excited it the more. "release me from my pledge," he repeated, entreatingly, "and tell me who thou art. mahommed is my pupil; he rides, carries shield, lays lance, draws arrow, and strikes with sword and axe as i have taught him. thou canst not name a quality characteristic of heroes he does not possess. doth allah permit me safe return from the hajj, he will be first to meet me at his father's gate. think what happiness i should have in saluting him there with the title--hail mahommed, conqueror of constantinople!" the jew answered: "i would gladly help thee, o emir, to happiness and promotion; for i see what afterwhile, if not presently, they would follow such a salutation of thy pupil, if coupled with a sufficient explanation; but his interests are paramount; at the same time it becomes me to be allegiant to the divinatory stars. what rivalries the story might awaken! it is not uncommon in history, as thou mayst know, that sons of promise have been cut off by jealous fathers. i am not accusing the great amurath; nevertheless precautions are always proper." the speaker then became dramatic. "nay, brave emir, the will to help thee has been already seconded by the deed. i spoke but now of lines of correspondence between the shining lights that are the life of the sky at night. let me illustrate my meaning. observe the lamps about us. the five on the uprights. between them, in the air, two stars of interwoven form are drawn. take the lamps as determining points, and use thy fancy a moment." the emir turned to the lamps; and the host, swift to understand the impulse, gave him time to gratify it; then he resumed: "so the fields of heaven between the stars, where the vulgar see only darkness, are filled with traceries infinite in form yet separable as the letters of the alphabet. they are the ciphers in which allah writes his reasons for every creation, and his will concerning it. there the sands are numbered, and the plants and trees, and their leaves, and the birds, and everything animate; there is thy history, and mine, and all of little and great and good and bad that shall befall us in this life. death does not blot out the records. everlastingly writ, they shall be everlastingly read--for the shame of some, for the delight of others." "allah is good," said the emir, bending his head. "and now," the mystic continued, "thou hast eaten and drunk with me in the pentagram of the magii. such is the astral drawing between the five lamps. henceforth in conflicts of interest, fortune against fortune, influences undreamt of will come to thy assistance. so much have i already done for thee." the emir bowed lower than before. "nor that alone," the jew continued. "henceforth our lives will run together on lines never divergent, never crossing. be not astonished, if, within a week, i furnish, to thy full satisfaction, proof of what i am saying." the expression could not be viewed except as of more than friendly interest. "should it so happen," the emir said, with warmth, "consider how unfortunate my situation would be, not knowing the name or country of my benefactor." the host answered simply, though evasively: "there are reasons of state, o emir, requiring me to make this pilgrimage unknown to any one." the emir apologized. "it is enough," the host added, "that thou remember me as the prince of india, whose greatest happiness is to believe in allah and mahomet his prophet; at the same time i concede we should have the means of certainly knowing each other should communication become desirable hereafter." he made a sign with his right hand which the negro in waiting responded to by passing around in front of him. "nilo," the master said in greek, "bring me the two malachite rings--those with the turquoise eyes." the slave disappeared. "touching the request to be released from the promise of secrecy, pardon me, o emir, if i decline to grant it. the verification to be made in constantinople should advise thee that the revolution to which i referred is not ripe for publication to the world. a son might be excused for dishonoring his parents; but the magus who would subject the divine science to danger of ridicule or contempt by premature disclosure is fallen past hope--he would betray allah himself." the emir bowed, but with evident discontent. at length the slave returned with the rings. "observe, o emir," the jew said, passing them both to his guest, "they are rare, curious, and exactly alike." the circlets were of gold, with raised settings of deep green stone, cut so as to leave a drop of pure turquoise on the top of each, suggestive of birds' eyes. "they are exactly the same, o prince," said the emir, tendering them back. the jew waved his hand. "select one of them," he said, "and i will retain the other. borne by messengers, they will always identify us each to the other." the two grew more cordial, and there was much further conversation across the board, interspersed with attentions to the fruit basket and pomegranate water. about midnight the emir took his departure. when he was gone, the host walked to and fro a long time; once he halted, and said aloud--"i hear his salute, 'hail mahommed, conqueror of constantinople!' it is always well to have a store of strings for one's bow." and to himself he laughed heartily. next day at dawn the great caravan was afoot, every man, woman, and child clad in _ihram_, and whitening the pale green valley. chapter vii at the kaaba the day before the pilgrimage. a cloud had hung over the valley where mecca lies like drift in the bed of a winding gorge. about ten o'clock in the morning the cloud disappeared over the summit of abu kubays in the east. the promise of rain was followed by a simoom so stifling that it plunged every breathing thing into a struggle for air. the dogs burrowed in the shade of old walls; birds flew about with open beaks; the herbage wilted, and the leaves on the stunted shrubs ruffled, then rolled up, like drying cinnamon. if the denizens of the city found no comfort in their houses of stone and mud, what suffering was there for the multitude not yet fully settled in the blistering plain beyond the bluffs of arafat? the zealous pilgrim, obedient to the law, always makes haste to celebrate his arrival at the holy city by an immediate visit to the haram. if perchance he is to see the enclosure for the first time, his curiosity, in itself pardonable, derives a tinge of piety from duty. the prince of india but illustrated the rule. he left his tents pitched close to those of the emir el hajj and the scherif of mecca, under the mountain of mercy, as arafat was practically translated by the very faithful. having thus assured the safety of his property, for conveniency and greater personal comfort he took a house with windows looking into the mosque. by so doing, he maintained the dignity of his character as a prince of india. the beggars thronging his door furnished lively evidence of the expectations his title and greatness had already excited. with a guide, his suite, and nilo shading his head with an umbrella of light green paper, the prince appeared in front of the chief entrance to the sacred square from the north. [footnote: the bab el vzyadeh.] the heads of the party were bare; their countenances becomingly solemn; their _ihram_ fresh and spotlessly white. passing slowly on, they were conducted under several outside arches, and down a stairway into a hall, where they left the umbrella and their shoes. the visitor found himself then in a cloister of the mosque with which the area around the kaaba is completely enclosed. there was a pavement of undressed flags, and to the right and left a wilderness of tall pillars tied together by arches, which in turn supported domes. numbers of people, bareheaded and barefooted, to whom the heat outside was insupportable, were in refuge there; some, seated upon the stones, revolved their rosaries; others walked slowly about. none spoke. the silence was a tribute to the ineffable sanctity of the place. the refreshing shade, the solemn hush, the whiteness of the garments were suggestive of sepulchres and their spectral tenantry. in the square whither the prince next passed, the first object to challenge his attention was the kaaba itself. at sight of it he involuntarily stopped. the cloisters, seen from the square, were open colonnades. seven minarets, belted in red, blue and yellow, arose in columnar relief against the sky and the mountains in the south. a gravelled plot received from the cloisters; next that, toward the centre, was a narrow pavement of rough stone in transverse extension down a shallow step to another gravelled plot; then another pavement wider than the first, and ending, like it, in a downward step; after which there was a third sanded plot, and then a third pavement defined by gilded posts upholding a continuous row of lamps, ready for lighting at the going down of the sun. the last pavement was of gray granite polished mirror-like by the friction of millions of bare feet; and upon it, like the pedestal of a monument upon a plinth, rested the base of the holy house, a structure of glassy white marble about two feet in height, with a bench of sharp inclination from the top. at intervals it was studded with massive brass rings. upon the base the kaaba rose, an oblong cube forty feet tall, eighteen paces lengthwise, and fourteen in breadth, shrouded all in black silk wholly unrelieved, except by one broad band of the appearance of gold, and inscriptions from the koran, of a like appearance, wrought in boldest lettering. the freshness of the great gloomy curtain told how quickly the gift of the sultan had been made available, and that whatever else might betide him, the young emir was already happily discharged of his trust. of the details, the only one the jew actually coupled with a thought was the kaaba. a hundred millions of human beings pray five times every day, their faces turned to this funereal object! the idea, though commonplace, called up that other always in waiting with him. in a space too brief for the formulation of words, he felt the arbitership of his dreams blow away. the work of the founder of islam was too well done and now too far gone to be disturbed, except with the sanction of god. had he the sanction? a writhing of the soul, accompanied with a glare, like lightning, and followed, like lightning, by an engulfing darkness, wrung his features, and instinctively he covered them with his hands. the guide saw the action, and misjudged it. "let us not be in haste," he said. "others before you have found the house at first sight blinding. blessed be allah!" the commiseration affected the prince strangely. the darkness, under pressure of his hands upon the eyeballs, gave place to an atmosphere of roseate light, in the fulness of which he saw the house of god projected by solomon and rebuilt by herod. the realism of the apparition was absolute, and comparison unavoidable. that he, familiar with the glory of the conception of the israelite, should be thought blinded by this _beit allah_ of the arab, so without grace of form or lines, so primitive and expressionless, so palpably uninspired by taste, or genius, or the deity it was designed to honor, restored him at once: indeed, in the succeeding reaction, he found it difficult to keep down resentment. dropping his hands, he took another survey of the shrouded pile, and swept all the square under eye. he beheld a crowd of devotees at the northeast corner of the house, and over their heads two small open structures which, from descriptions often heard, he recognized as praying places. a stream of worshippers was circling around the marble base of the most holy, some walking, others trotting; these, arriving at the northeast corner, halted--the black stone was there! a babel of voices kept the echoes of the enclosure in unremitting exercise. the view taken, the jew said, calmly: "blessed be allah! i will go forward." in his heart he longed to be in constantinople--islam, it was clear, would lend him no ear; christendom might be more amenable. he was carried next through the gate of the sons of the old woman; thence to the space in front of the well zem-zem; mindful of the prayers and prostrations required at each place, and of the dumb servants who went with him. the famous well was surrounded by a throng apparently impassable. "room for the royal hadji--for the prince of india!" the guide yelled. "there are no poor where he is--make way!" a thousand eyes sought the noble pilgrim; and as a path opened for him, a score of _zem-zemis_ refilled their earthen cups with the bitter water afresh. a prince of hind did not come to them every day. he tasted from a cup--his followers drank--and when the party turned away there were jars paid for to help all the blind in the caravan back to healthful vision. "there is no god but allah! be merciful to him, o allah," the crowd shouted, in approval of the charity. the press of pilgrims around the northeastern corner of the kaaba, to which the guide would have conducted the prince next, was greater than at the well. each was waiting his turn to kiss the black stone before beginning the seven circuits of the house. never had the new-comer seen a concourse so wrought upon by fanaticism; never had he seen a concourse so peculiarly constituted. all complexions, even that of the interior african, were a reddish desert tan. eyes fiercely bright appeared unnaturally swollen from the colirium with which they were generally stained. the diversities the penitential costume would have masked were effectually exposed whenever mouths opened for utterance. many sang, regardless of time or melody, the _tilbiye_ they had hideously vocalized in their advance toward the city. for the most part, however, the effort at expression spent itself in a long cry, literally rendered--"thou hast called me--i am here! i am here!" the deliverance was in the vernacular of the devotee, and low or loud, shrill or hoarse, according to the intensity of the passion possessing him. to realize the discordancy, the reader must recall the multiplicity of the tribes and nations represented; then will he fancy the agitation of the mass, the swaying of the white-clad bodies, the tossing of bare arms and distended hands, the working of tearful faces turned up to the black-curtained pile regardless of the smiting of the sun--here men on their knees, there men grovelling on the pavement--yonder one beating his breast till it resounds like an empty cask--some comprehension of the living obstruction in front of the jew can be had. then the guide, calling him, tried the throng. "the prince of india!" he shouted, at the top of his voice. "room for the beloved of the prophet! stand not in his way--room, room!" after much persistence the object was achieved. a pilgrim, the last one in front of the prince, with arms extended along the two sides of the angle of the wall where the curtain was looped up, seemed struggling to embrace the house; suddenly, as in despair he beat his head frantically against the sharp corner--a second thrust more desperate than the first--then a groan, and he dropped blindly to the pavement. the guide rejoicing made haste to push the prince into the vacant place. without the enthusiasm of a traveller, calmly as a philosopher, the jew, himself again, looked at the stone which more nearly than any other material thing commanded idolatrous regard from the mohammedan world. he had known personally most of the great men of that world--its poets, lawmakers, warriors, ascetics, kings--even the prophet. and now they came one by one, as one by one they had come in their several days, and kissed the insensate thing; and between the coming and going time was scarcely perceptible. the mind has the faculty of compressing, by one mighty effort, the incidents of a life, even of centuries, into a flash-like reenactment. as all the way from the first view of the sanctuary to arrival at the gate, and thence to this point, the jew had promptly followed his guide, especially in recitation of the prescribed prayers, he was about to do so now; already his hands were raised. "great god! o my god! i believe in thee--i believe in thy book--i believe in thy word--i believe in thy promise," the zealous prompter said, and waited. for the first time the votary was slow to respond. how could he, at such a juncture, refuse a thought to the innumerables whose ghosts had been rendered up in vain struggles to obey the law which required them to come and make proof of faith before this stone! the innumerables, lost at sea, lost in the desert--lost body and soul, as in their dying they themselves had imagined! symbolism! an invention of men--a necessity of necromancers! god had his ministers and priests, the living media of his will, but of symbols--nothing! "great god! o my god!" the guide began again. a paroxysm of disgust seized the votary. the phariseeism in which he was born and bred, and which he could no more outlive than he could outlive his body asserted itself. in the crisis of the effort at self-control, he heard a groan, and, looking down, saw the mad devotee at his feet. in sliding from the shelf of the base, the man had been turned upon his back, so that he was lying face upward. on the forehead there were two cruel wounds; and the blood, yet flowing, had partially filled the hollows of the eyes, making the countenance unrecognizable. "the wretch is dying," the prince exclaimed. "allah is merciful--let us attend to the prayers," the guide returned, intent on business. "but he will die, if not helped." "when we have finished, the porters will come for him." the sufferer stirred, then raised a hand. "o hadji--o prince of india!" he said faintly, in italian. the wanderer bent down to get a nearer view. "it is the yellow air--save me!" though hardly articulate, the words were full of light to the listener. "the virtues of the pentagram endure," he said, with absolute self-possession. "the week is not ended, and, lo!--i save him." rising to his full stature, he glanced here and there over the throng, as if commanding attention, and proclaimed: "a mercy of the most merciful! it is the emir el hajj." there was a general silence. every man had seen the martial figure of the young chief in his arms and armor, and on horseback; many of them had spoken to him. "the emir el hajj--dying," passed rapidly from mouth to mouth. "o allah!" burst forth in general refrain; after which the ejaculations were all excerpted from prayers. "'o allah! this is the place of him who flies to thee from fire!--shadow him, o allah, in thy shadow!--give him drink from the cup of thy prophet!'" a bedouin, tall, almost black, and with a tremendous mouth open until the red lining was exposed between the white teeth down to the larynx, shouted shrilly the inscription on the marble over the breast of the prophet--"in the name of allah! allah have mercy upon him!"--and every man repeated the words, but not one so much as reached a hand in help. the prince waited--still the _amins_, and prayerful ejaculations. then his wonder ceased. not a pilgrim but envied the emir--that he should die so young was a pity--that he should die at the base of the sanctuary, in the crowning act of the hajj, was a grace of god. each felt paradise stooping low to receive a martyr, and that its beatitude was near. they trembled with ecstasy at hearing the gates opening on their crystal hinges, and seeing light as from the robe of the prophet glimmering through them. o happy emir! the jew drew within himself. compromise with such fanaticism was impossible. then, with crushing distinctness, he saw what had not before occurred to him. in the estimation of the mohammedan world, the role of arbiter was already filled; that which he thought of being, mahomet was. too late, too late! in bitterness of soul he flung his arms up and shouted: "the emir is dying of the plague!" he would have found satisfaction in seeing the blatant crowd take to its heels, and hie away into the cloisters and the world outside; not one moved! "by allah!" he shouted, more vehemently than before. "the yellow air hath blown upon the emir--is blowing upon you--fly!" "_amin! amin!_--peace be with thee, o prince of martyrs! o prince of the happy! peace be with thee, o lion of allah! o lion of the prophet!" such the answers returned him. the general voice became a howl. surely here was something more than fanaticism. then it entered his understanding. what he beheld was faith exulting above the horrors of disease, above the fear of death--faith bidding death welcome! his arms fell down. the crowd, the sanctuary, the hopes he had built on islam, were no more to him. he signed to his three attendants, and they advanced and raised the emir from the pavement. "to-morrow i will return with thee, and complete my vows;" he said to his guide. "for the present, lead out of the square to my house." the exit was effected without opposition. next day the emir, under treatment of the prince, was strong enough to tell his story. the plague had struck him about noon of the day following the interview in the tent at el zaribah. determined to deliver the gifts he had in keeping, and discharge his trust to the satisfaction of his sovereign, he struggled resolutely with the disease. after securing the scherif's receipt he bore up long enough to superintend the pitching his camp. believing death inevitable, he was carried into his tent, where he issued his final orders and bade his attendants farewell. in the morning, though weak, half-delirious, his faith the strongest surviving impulse, he called for his horse, and being lifted into the saddle, rode to the city, resolved to assure himself of the blessings of allah by dying in the shadow of the sanctuary. the prince, listening to the explanation, was more than ever impressed with the futility of attempting a compromise with people so devoted to their religion. there was nothing for him but to make haste to constantinople, the centre of christian sentiment and movement. there he might meet encouragement and ultimate success. in the ensuing week, having performed the two pilgrimages, and seen the emir convalescent, he took the road again, and in good time reached jedda, where he found his ship waiting to convey him across the red sea to the african coast. the embarkation was without incident, and he departed, leaving a reputation odorous for sanctity, with numberless witnesses to carry it into every quarter of islam. chapter viii the arrival in constantinople uel, the son of jahdai, was in the habit of carrying the letter received from the mysterious stranger about with him in a breast pocket. how many times a day he took it out for reexamination would be difficult to say. observing the appearance of signs of usage, he at length wrapped it in an envelope of yellow silk. if he had thought less of it, he would have resorted to plain linen. there were certain points in the missive which seemed of greater interest to him than others. for example, the place whence it had been addressed was an ever recurring puzzle; he also dwelt long upon the sentence which referred so delicately to a paternal relationship. the most exigent passages, however, were those relative to the time he might look for the man's coming. as specially directed, he had taken note of the day of the delivery of the letter, and was greatly surprised to find the messenger had arrived the last day of the year permitted him. the punctuality of the servant might be in imitation of a like virtue of the master. if so, at the uttermost, the latter might be expected six months after receipt of the letter. or he might appear within the six months. the journeys laid out were of vast distances, and through wild and dangerous countries, and by sea as well. only a good traveller could survive them at all; to execute them in such brief space seemed something superhuman. so it befell that the son of jahdai was at first but little concerned. the months--three, four, five--rolled away, and the sixth was close at hand; then every day brought him an increase of interest. in fact, he found himself looking for the arrival each morning, and at noon promising it an event of the evening. november was the sixth and last month of the time fixed. the first of that month passed without the stranger. uel became anxious. the fifteenth he turned the keeping of his shop over to a friend; and knowing the passage from alexandria must be by sea, he betook himself, with syama, to the port on the golden horn known as the gate of st. peter, at the time most frequented by egyptian sailing masters. in waiting there, he saw the sun rise over the heights of scutari, and it was the morning of the very last day. syama, meantime, occupied himself in final preparation of the house for the reception. he was not excited, like uel, because he had no doubt of the arrival within the period set. he was also positively certain of finding his master, when at length he did appear, exactly as when he separated from him in cipango. he was used to seeing time waste itself upon the changeless man; he had even caught from him a kind of contempt for what other men shrank from as dangers and difficulties. the site of the house has been described; it remains to give the reader an idea of its interior. there were four rooms on the ground floor furnished comfortably for servants, of whom the arrangement indicated three besides syama. the first floor was of three apartments communicable by doorways with portieres of camel's hair. the furniture was roman, greek, and egyptian mixed. of the three the middle chamber was largest, and as its fittings were in a style of luxury supposed to be peculiar to princes, the conclusion was fair that it was designed for the proprietor's occupancy during his waking hours. a dark blue rug clothed the floor. in the centre, upon a shield of clear copper, arose a silver brazier. the arms and legs of the stools here and there on the rug were carven in grotesque imitation of reptiles and animals of the ultra dragonish mode. the divans against the walls were of striped silk. in each corner stood a tall post of silvered bronze, holding at the end of a graceful crook several lamps of pompeiian model. a wide window in the east end, filled with plants in bloom, admitted ample light, which, glancing through the flowers, fell on a table dressed in elegant cloth, and bearing a lacquered waiter garnished with cups of metal and glass, and one hand-painted porcelain decanter for drinking water. an enormous tiger-skin, the head intact and finished with extraordinary realism, was spread on the floor in front of the table. the walls were brilliant with fresh byzantine frescoing. the air of the room was faintly pervaded with a sweet incense of intoxicating effect upon one just admitted to it. indeed the whole interior partook of this sweetness. the care of the faithful servant had not been confined to the rooms; he had constructed a summer house upon the roof, knowing that when the weather permitted his master would pass the nights there in preference to the chambers below. this structure looked not unlike a modern belfry, except that the pillars and shallow dome of the top were of moorish lightness. thence, to a familiar, the heavens in the absence of the sun would be an unrolled map. when the last touch of the preparation had been given, and syama said to himself, "he may come now," one point was especially noticeable--nowhere in the house was there provision for a woman. the morning of the last day syama accompanied uel to the port reluctantly. feeling sure his master had not arrived in the night, he left his friend on the watch, and returned home early. the noise and stir of business at the ancient landing were engaging. with a great outcry, a vessel would be drawn up, and made fast, and the unloading begun. a drove of donkeys, or a string of camels, or a mob of porters would issue from the gate, receive the cargo and disappear with it. now and then a ship rounded the classic point, its square sail bent and all the oars at work: sweeping past galata on the north side of the horn, then past the fish market gate on the south, up it would come gracefully as a flying bird; if there was place for it at the quay, well; if not, after hovering around awhile, it would push out to a berth in the open water. such incidents were crises to uel. to this one and to that he would run with the question: "where is she from?" if from the upper sea, he subsided; but if from the marmora, he kept eager lookout upon her, hoping to recognize in every disembarkee the man he was expecting. that he had never seen the person was of little consequence. he had thought of him so much awake, and seen him so repeatedly in dreams, he was confident of knowing him at sight. imagining a stranger's appearance is for the most part a gentle tribute of respect; the mistakes we make are for the most part ludicrous. no one answering the preconception came. noon, and still no one; then, cast down and disappointed, uel went home, ate something, held the usual childish dialogue with his little girl, and about mid afternoon crossed the street to the new residence. great was his astonishment at finding a pyramid of coals glowing in the silver brazier, and the chill already driven from the sitting-room. here--there--upstairs, downstairs--the signs were of present occupancy. for a moment he thought the master had slipped by him or landed at some other port of the city. "is he here? has he come?" he asked, excitedly, and syama answered with a shake of the head. "then why the fire?" syama, briefly waving his hand as if following the great marmorean lake, turned the finger ends into the other palm, saying plainly and emphatically: "he is coming--he will be here directly." uel smiled--faith could not be better illustrated--and it was so in contrast with his own incredulity! he lingered awhile. restlessness getting the mastery, he returned home, reflecting on the folly of counting so implicitly upon the conclusion to a day of a tour so vast. more likely, he thought, the traveller's bones were somewhere whitening the desert, or the savages of kash-cush had eaten him. he had heard of their cannibalism. want of faith, however, did not prevent the shopkeeper from going to his friend's house after supper. it was night, and dark, and the chilling moisture of a winter wind blowing steadily from the black sea charged the world outside with discomfort. the brazier with its heap of living coals had astonished him before; now the house was all alight! he hastened upstairs. in the sitting-room the lamps were burning, and the illumination was brilliant. syama was there, calm and smiling as usual. "what--he is here?" uel said, looking from door to door. the servant shook his head, and waved his hand negatively, as to say: "not yet--be patient--observe me." to indulge his wonder, uel took seat. later on he tried to get from syama an explanation of his amazing confidence, but the latter's substitute for speech was too limited and uncertain to be satisfactory. about ten o'clock syama went below, and presently returned with food and drink on a large waiter. "ah, good lord!" uel thought. "he is making a meal ready. what a man! what a master!" then he gave attention to the fare, which was of wheaten wafers, cold fowl, preserved fruits, and wine in a stoneware bottle. these syama set on a circular table not higher than the divan in front of which it was drawn. a white napkin and a bowl for laving the fingers completed the preparation, as uel supposed. but no. syama went below again, and reappeared with a metal pot and a small wooden box. the pot he placed on the coals in the brazier, and soon a delicate volume of steam was pouring from the spout; after handling the box daintily as if the contents were vastly precious, he deposited it unopened by the napkin and bowl. then, with an expression of content upon his face, he too took seat, and surrendered himself to expectancy. the lisping of the steam escaping from the pot on the fire was the only sound in the room. the assurance of the servant was contagious. uel began to believe the master would come. he was congratulating himself upon the precaution he had taken in leaving a man at the port to conduct him rightly when he heard a shuffling of feet below stairs. he listened startled. there were several men in the company. steps shook the floor. uel and syama arose. the latter's countenance flushed with pleasure; giving one triumphal glance at his friend, much as to say, there--did i not tell you so? he walked forward quickly, and reached the head of the steps just as a stranger finished their ascent. in a moment syama was on his knees, kissing the hand held out to him. uel needed no prompter--it was the master! if only on account of the mutuality of affection shown between the two, the meeting was a pleasant sight. that feature, however, was lost to the shopkeeper, who had no thought except of the master's appearance. he had imagined him modelled after the popular conceptions of kings and warriors--tall, majestic, awe-inspiring. he saw instead a figure rather undersized, slightly stoop-shouldered, thin; at least it seemed so then, hid as it was under a dark brown burnoose of the amplitude affected by arab sheiks. the head was covered by a woollen handkerchief of reddish tint, held by a scarlet cord. the edge of the handkerchief projected over the forehead enough to cast the entire face in shade, leaving to view only a mass of white beard overflowing the breast. the master ended the reception at the head of the stairs by gently raising syama to his feet. then he subjected the room to a swift inspection, and, in proof of satisfaction, he patted the happy retainer on the shoulder. invited by the fire, and the assurance of comfort in its glow, he advanced to the brazier, and while extending his hands over it, observed uel. without surprise or hesitation he walked to him. "son of jahdai!" he said, offering his hand. the voice was of exceeding kindness. as an overture to peace and goodwill, it was reenforced by very large eyes, the intense blackness of which was softened by a perceptible glow of pleasure. uel was won on the instant. a recollection of the one supreme singularity of the new acquaintance--his immunity from death--recurred to him, and he could not have escaped its effect had he wished. he was conscious also that the eyes were impressing him. without distinct thought, certainly without the slightest courtierly design, he obeyed the impulse of the moment, and stooped and touched the extended hand with his lips. and before rising he heard the beginning of further speech: "i see the truth of my judgment. the family of my ancient friends has trodden the ways of righteousness under the commandments of the lord until it has become a kind unto itself. i see too my trust has been verified. o son of jahdai, you did assist my servant, as i requested, and to your kindness, doubtless, i am indebted for this home full of comforts after a long absence among strangers. i hold you my creditor." the tendency of the speech was to relieve uel of embarrassment. "do not thank me," he answered. "the business was ordinary, and strictly within syama's capacity. indeed, the good man could have finished it without my help." the master, rich in experience, noticed the deferential manner of the reply, and was agreeably assured on his side. "very well. there will be no harm in reserving an opinion," he said. "the good man, as you call him, is making ready a drink with which he has preceded me from his country, and which you must stay and share, as it is something unknown in the west." "let me first welcome you here," uel returned. "oh, i saw the welcome in your face. but let us get nearer the fire. the night is chilling. if i were owner of a garden under whatever hill along the bosphorus, verily i should tremble for my roses." thus briefly, and in such simple manner, the wise mystic put the shopkeeper perfectly at ease. at the brazier they watched syama in the operation since become of universal knowledge under title of "drawing tea." the fragrance of the decoction presently filled the room to the suppression of the incense, and they drank, ate, and were sociable. the host outlined his travels. uel, in return, gave him information of the city. when the latter departed, it was with a light heart, and an elastic step; the white beard and patriarchal manner of the man had laid his fears, and the future was to him like a cloudless sky. afterwhile the master signified a wish to retire; whereupon his household came, as was their wont, to bid him good-night. of these there were two white men. at sight of syama, they rushed to embrace him as became brethren of old acquaintance long in the same service. a third one remained at the door. syama looked at him, and then at the master; for the man was a stranger. then the jew, with quick intuition of the requirement of the time, went, and took him by the hand, and led him to the others. addressing syama, he said gravely: "this is nilo, son of the nilo whom you knew. as you held the father in love, so you shall hold the son." the man was young, very black, and gigantic in stature. syama embraced him as he had the others. in the great city there was not a more united household under roof than that of the shopkeeper's friend. chapter ix the prince at home a wise man wishing to know another always attends him when he is in narrative. the reader may be familiar with the principle, and a believer in it; for his better satisfaction, therefore, a portion of the prince's conversation with uel over the tea-table the night of his arrival in constantinople shall be reported nearly as possible in his own words. it will be found helpful to the story as well as an expose of character. "i said in my letter, as thou mayst remember, o son of jahdai"--the voice of the speaker was low, but earnest, and admirably in harmony with the sentiment, "that i hoped thou wouldst allow me to relate myself to thee as father to son. thou hast not forgotten it, i am sure." "i recall it distinctly," uel answered, respectfully. "thou wilt remember not less clearly then that i added the words, 'in all things a help, in nothing a burden.'" uel assented. "the addition i thought of great importance," the prince continued; "for it was very desirable that thou shouldst not imagine me coming to sit down upon thee, and in idleness fatten upon the fruits of thy industry. as something of even greater importance, thou shouldst know now, at this earliest moment of our intercourse, that i am abundantly able from what i have of goods and treasure to keep any condition i may choose to assume. indeed thou shouldst not be too much astonished did i practise the style and manner of the nobles who are privileged in the palaces of thy caesar. at home i shall be as thou seest me now, thy friend of simplest habits, because my tastes really incline to them; when i go abroad, the officials of the church and state whom i chance to encounter shall be challenged to comparison of appearance, and be piqued to inquire about me. then when the city observes thou art intimate with me, the demand for thy wares will increase; thou mayst even be put to stress to keep apace with it. in speaking thus, i trust thy natural shrewdness, sharpened as it must have become by much dealing as a merchant." he paused here to give his cup to syama for replenishment; whereupon uel said: "i have followed thy discourse with interest, and i hope with understanding; yet i am conscious of a disadvantage. i do not know thy name, nor if thou hast a title." "yes, and thou mightest have set down in the table of defaults," the wanderer began pleasantly in reply, but broke off to receive the cup smoking hot from the servant, and say--"thanks, syama. i see thy hand hath not lost its deftness; neither has the green leaf suffered from its long journey over the sea." uel noticed with what intentness syama watched the master's lips while he was speaking, and the gratification that beamed from his face in answer to the compliment; and he thought, "verily this must be a good man to be so beloved by his dependents." "i was saying, o son of jahdai, that thou mightest have set down the other points of information equally necessary to our intercourse--whence i come? and why? and i will not leave thee in the dark respecting them. only let me caution thee--it is not required that the public should be taken into our confidence. i have seen a flower good to look upon, but viscous, and with a scent irresistible to insects. that flower represents the world; and what is the folly of its victims but the madness of men who yield themselves with too easy faith to the seductions of the world? nay, my son--observe thou the term--i use it to begin the relationship i seek--observe also i begin the relationship by confidences which were unwisely given without the injunction that they are intended to be put away in thy inner-conscience. tell me if i am understood." the question was emphasized by a look whose magnetism thrilled uel's every nerve. "i believe i understand you," he replied. then, as if the prince knew the effect he had wrought, and that it relieved him from danger of betrayal, he returned to his former easy manner. "and yet, as thou shalt see, my son, the confidences are not crimes--but thy cup is empty, and syama waiting for it." "the drink is new to me," uel replied, yielding to the invitation. "new? and wilt thou not also say it is better than wine? the world of which we are talking, will one day take up the admission, and be happier of it." turning then to serious matter: "afterwhile," he said, "thou wilt be importuned by the curious to know who i am, and thou shouldst be able to answer according to the fact--he is a prince of india. the vulgar will be satisfied with the reply. others will come demanding more. refer them to me. as to thyself, o son of jahdai, call me as i have instructed thee to speak of me--call me prince. at the same time i would have thee know that on my eighth day i was carried into a temple and registered a son of a son of jerusalem. the title i give thee for my designation did not ennoble me. the birthright of a circumcised heritor under the covenant with israel is superior to every purely human dignity whatever its derivation." "in other words, o prince, thou art"--uel hesitated. "a jew!" the other answered promptly--"a jew, as thy father was--as thou art." the look of pleasure that appeared on the shopkeeper's face was swiftly interpreted by the prince, who felt he had indeed evoked a tie of blood, and bound the man with it. "so much is despatched," he said, with evident satisfaction; then, after a draught from the tea-cup, and a re-delivery to syania for more, he continued: "possibly thou wilt also remember my letter mentions a necessity for my crossing from india to mecca on the way to kash-cush, and that, despite the stoppage, i hoped to greet thee in person within six months after syama reported himself. how stands the time?" "this is the last day of the six months," uel answered. "yes, there was never man"--the prince paused, as if the thought were attended with a painful recollection--"never a man," he presently resumed, "who kept account of time more exactly than myself." a copious draught of tea assuaged the passing regret. "i wrote the letter while in cipango, an island of the great eastern sea. thirty years after i set foot upon its shore, theretofore unvisited by a white man, a countryman of ours from this city, the sole survivor of a shipwreck, joined me. from him i heard of thy father's death. he also gave me thy name.... my life on the island was comparatively untroubled. indeed, for thy perfect comprehension, my son, it is best to make an explanation now; then thou wilt have a key to many things in my conduct to come as well as conduct gone which would otherwise keep thee in doubtful reflection. the study of greatest interest is religion. i have travelled the world over--i mean the inhabited parts--and in its broad extent there is not a people without worship of some kind. wherefore my assertion, that beyond the arts, above the sciences, above commerce, above any or all other human concernments, religion is the superlative interest. it alone is divine. the study of it is worship. knowledge of it is knowledge of god. can as much be said of any other subject?" uel did not answer; he was following the speech too intently, and the prince, seeing it, drank again, and proceeded: "the divine study took me to cipango. fifty years thou mayst say to thyself was a long term in such a country. not so, my son. i found there two faiths; the one sin-siu, which i turned my back upon as mythologic, without the poetry of the greek and roman; the other--well, a life given to the laws of buddha were well spent. to say truth, there is such similitude between them and the teachings of him we are in the habit of calling the carpenter's son that, if i did not know better, it were easy to believe the latter spent the years of his disappearance in some buddhistic temple.... leaving explanation to another time, the same study carried me to mecca. the binding of men, the putting yokes about their necks, trampling them in the dust, are the events supposed most important and therefore most noticeable in history; but they are as nothing in comparison with winning belief in matters indeterminable by familiar tests. the process there is so mysterious, the achievement so miraculous that where the operator is vastly successful one may well look under them for the permission of god. the day was when islamism did but stir contemptuous laughter; now it is the faith acceptable to more men than any other. is it not worthy the vigils of a student? and then it happens, my son, that in the depths of their delusion, people sometimes presume to make their own gods, and reform them or cast them out. deities have been set up or thrown down by their makers in the changes of a moon. i wanted to see if such calamity had befallen the allah of mahomet.... my going to kash-cush was on what thou wouldst call business, and of it i will also tell thee. at jedda, whither i betook myself after making the pilgrimages at mecca, i regained my ship, and descended the red sea, landing at a village on the extreme inland shore of the bay of tajurrah, below the straits of bab-el-mandel. i was then in kash-cush. from the village on the coast, i passed into the interior, travelling in a litter on the shoulders of native porters, and, after many days, reached my destination--a collection of bungalows pitched on the bank of a tributary of the blue nile called the dedhesa. the journey would have been difficult and tedious but that one of my attendants--a black man--had been king of the tribe i sought. his name was nilo, and his tribe paramount throughout the uncivilized parts of kash-cush. more than fifty years before,--prior, in fact, to my setting out for cipango,--i made the same tour, and found the king. he gave me welcome; and so well did he please me that i invited him to share my wanderings. he accepted the proposal upon condition that in his old age he should be returned home, and exchanged for a younger man of his blood. i agreed, provided one younger could be found who, besides the requisite physique and the virtues of intellect and courage, was also deaf and dumb, like himself. a treaty was thus perfected. i call it a treaty as distinct from a purchase, for nilo was my friend and attendant--my ally, if you please--never my slave. there was a reception for us the like of which for feasting and merriment was without mention in the traditions of the tribe. a grandson filled my friend's throne; but he gave it back to him, and voluntarily took his place with me. thou shalt see him to-morrow. i call him nilo, and spend the morning hours teaching him to talk; for while he keeps me reminded of a greek demi-god--so tall, strong and brave is he--he is yet deaf and dumb, and has to be taught as syama was. when thou hast to do with him be gentle and courteous. i wish it kept in mind he is my friend and ally, bound to me by treaty as his grandfather was.... the only part of the tour given thee in my letter which i omitted was the descent of the nile. having performed it before, my curiosity was sated, and i allowed my impatience to be in thy city here to determine my course. i made way back to the village on the bay of tajurrah where, in anticipation of such a change, my vessel was held in detention. thence, up the sea and across the isthmus, i proceeded to alexandria, and to-night happily find myself at home, in hope of rest for my body and renewal of my spirit." with this, the explanation appeared concluded; for the prince notified syama that he did not desire more tea, and lapsed into a thoughtful silence. presently uel arose, saying: "you must be weary. with permission i will take my leave now. i confess you have given me much to think over, and made me happy by taking me into your confidence. if it be agreeable, i will call at noon to-morrow." the prince went with him to the head of the stairs, and there bade him peace and good-night. chapter x the rose of spring the prince, as the jew preferred to be called, kept his house closely quite a month, resting, not hibernating. he took exercise daily on the flat roof; and walking to and fro there, found three objects of attraction: the hill to the southwest with the church upon it, the palace of blacherne off further in the west, and the tower of galata. the latter, across the golden horn in the north, arose boldly, like a light-house on a cliff; yet, for a reason--probably because it had connection with the subject of his incessant meditations--he paused oftenest to gaze at the palace. he was in his study one day deeply absorbed. the sun, nearing meridian, poured a stream of white light through the south window, flooding the table at which he sat. that the reader may know something of the paths the mystic most frequented when in meditation, we will make free with one of the privileges belonging to us as a chronicler. the volume directly in front of him on the table, done in olive wood strengthened at the corners with silver, was near two feet in length, and one and a half in width; when closed, it would be about one foot thick. now he had many wonderful rare and rich _antiques_, but none so the apple of his eye as this; for it was one of the fifty holy bibles of greek transcription ordered by constantine the great. at his right, held flat by weights, were the _sacred books_ of china, in form a roll of broad-leafed vellum. at his left, a roll somewhat similar in form and at the moment open, lay the _rig-veda_ of the aryans in sanscrit. the fourth book was the _avesta_ of zoroaster--a collection of mss. stitched together, and exquisitely rendered by parse devas into the zend language. a fifth book was the _koran_. the arrangement of the volumes around the judean bible was silently expressive of the student's superior respect; and as from time to time, after reading a paragraph from one of the others, he returned to the great central treasure, it was apparent he was making a close comparison of texts with reference to a particular theme, using the scriptures as a standard. most of the time he kept the forefinger of his left hand on what is now known as the fourteenth verse of the third chapter of exodus--"and god said unto moses, i am that i am: and he said, thus shalt thou say unto the children of israel, i am hath sent me unto you." if, as the prince himself had declared, religion were indeed the study of most interest to the greatest number of men, he was logically consistent in comparing the definitions of _god_ in the bibles of theistic nations. so had he occupied himself since morning. the shrewd reader will at once discern the theme of his comparative study. at length he grew weary of bending over the books, and of the persistent fixedness of attention required for the pursuit of fine shades of meaning in many different languages. he threw his arms up in aid of a yawn, and turned partly around, his eyes outrunning the movement of his body. the half-introverted glance brightened with a gleam, and remained fixed, while the arms dropped down. he could only look in wonder at what he saw--eyes black and almost large as his own gazing at him in timid surprise. beholding nothing but the eyes, he had the awesome feeling which attends imagining a spirit suddenly risen; then he saw a forehead low, round, and white, half shaded by fluffs of dark hair; then a face of cherubic color and regularity, to which the eyes gave an indefinable innocency of expression. every one knows the effect of trifles on the memory. a verse or a word, the smell of a flower, a lock of hair, a turn in music, will not merely bring the past back, but invest it with a miraculous recurrency of events. the prince's gaze endured. he stretched his hand out as if fearful lest what he saw might vanish. the gesture was at once an impulse and an expression. there was a time--tradition says it was the year in which he provoked the curse--when he had wife and child. to one of them, possibly both, the eyes then looking into his might have belonged. the likeness unmanned him. the hand he stretched forth fell lightly upon the head of the intruder. "what are you?" he said. the vagueness of the expression will serve excellently as a definition of his condition; at the same time it plunged the child addressed into doubt. presently she answered: "i am a little girl." accepting the simplicity of the reply as evidence of innocency too extreme for fear, he took the visitor in his arms, and sat her on his knee. "i did not mean to ask what you are, but who?" he said. "uel is my father." "uel? well, he is my friend, and i am his; therefore you and i should be friends. what is your name?" "he calls me gul bahar." "oh! that is turkish, and means rose of spring. how came you by it?" "my mother was from iconium." "yes--where the sultans used to live." "and she could speak turkish." "i see! gul bahar is an endearment, not a real name." "my real name is lael." the prince paled from cheek to brow; his lips trembled; the arm encircling her shook; and looking into his eyes, she saw tears dim them. after a long breath, he said, with inexpressible tenderness, and as if speaking to one standing just behind her--"lael!" then, the tears full formed, he laid his forehead on her shoulder so his white hair blent freely with her chestnut locks; and sitting passively, but wondering, she heard him sob and sob again and again, like another child. soon, from pure sympathy, unknowing why, she too began sobbing. several minutes passed thus; then, raising his face, and observing her responsive sorrow, he felt the need of explanation. "forgive me," he said, kissing her, "and do not wonder at me. i am old--very old--older than thy father, and there have been so many things to distress me which other men know nothing of, and never can. i had once"-- he stopped, repeated the long breath, and gazed as at a far object. "i too had once a little girl." pausing, he dropped his eyes to hers. "how old are you?" "next spring i shall be fourteen," she answered. "and she was just your age, and so like you--so small, and with such hair and eyes and face; and she was named lael. i wanted to call her _rimah_, for she seemed a song to me; but her mother said, as she was a gift from the lord, she wanted in the fulness of days to give her back to him, and that the wish might become a covenant, she insisted on calling her lael, which, in hebrew--thy father's tongue and mine--means to god." the child, listening with all her soul, was now not in the least afraid of him; without waiting, she made the application. "you loved her, i know," she said "how much--oh, how much!" "where is she now?" "at jerusalem there was a gate called the golden gate. it looked to the east. the sun, rising over the top of mount olivet, struck the plates of gold and corinthian brass more precious than gold, so it seemed one rosy flame. the dust at its rocky sill, and the ground about it are holy. there, deep down, my lael lies. a stone that tasked many oxen to move it covers her; yet, in the last day, she will be among the first to rise--of such excellence is it to be buried before that golden gate." "oh! she is dead!" the child exclaimed. "she is dead;" and seeing her much affected, he hastened to say, "i shed many tears thinking of her. ah, how gentle and truthful she was! and how beautiful! i cannot forget her. i would not if i could; but you who look so like her will take her place in my heart now, and love me as she did; and i will love you even as i loved her. i will take you into my life, believing she has come again. in the morning i will ask first, where is my lael? at noon, i will demand if the day has been kind to her; and the night shall not be half set in except i know it has brought her the sweetness of sleep. will you be my lael?" the question perplexed the child, and she was silent. again he asked, "will you be my lael?" the earnestness with which he put the question was that of a hunger less for love than an object to love. the latter is not often accounted a passion, yet it creates necessities which are peremptory as those of any passion. one of the incidents of the curse he was suffering was that he knew the certainty of the coming of a day when he must be a mourner for whomsoever he should take into his heart, and in this way expiate whatever happiness the indulgence might bring him. nevertheless the craving endured, at times a positive hunger. in other words, his was still a human nature. the simplicity and beauty of the girl were enough to win him of themselves; but when she reminded him of the other asleep under a great rock before the gate of the holy city, when the name of the lost one was brought to him so unexpectedly, it seemed there had been a resurrection, making it possible for him to go about once more as he was accustomed to in his first household. a third time he asked, "you will be my lael?" "can i have two fathers?" she returned. "oh, yes!" he answered quickly. "one in fact, the other by adoption; and they can both love you the same." immediately her face became a picture of childish trust. "then i will be your lael too." he clasped her close to his breast, and kissed her, crying: "my lael has come back to me! god of my fathers, i thank thee!" she respected his emotion, but at length, with her hand upon his shoulder, said: "you and my father are friends, and thinking he came here, i came too." "is he at home?" "i think so." "then we will go to him. you cannot be my lael without his consent." presently, hand in hand, they descended the stairs, crossed the street, and were in the shopkeeper's presence. the room was plainly but comfortably furnished as became the proprietor's fortune and occupation. closer acquaintance, it is to be said, had dissipated the latent dread, which, as has been seen, marked uel's first thought of intimacy between the stranger and the child. seeing him old, and rich, and given to study, not to say careless of ordinary things, the father was beginning to entertain the idea that it might in some way be of advantage to the child could she become an object of interest to him. wherefore, as they entered now, he received them with a smile. traces of the emotion he had undergone were in the prince's face, and when he spoke his voice was tremulous. "son of jahdai," he said, standing, "i had once a wife and child. they perished-how and when, i cannot trust myself to tell. i have been faithful to their memory. from the day i lost them, i have gone up and down the world hunting for many things which i imagined might renew the happiness i had from them. i have been prodigal of gratitude, admiration, friendship, and goodwill, and bestowed them singly and together, and often; but never have i been without consciousness of something else demanding to be given. happiness is not all in receiving. i passed on a long time before it came to me that we are rich in affections not intended for hoarding, and that no one can be truly content without at least one object on which to lavish them. here"--and he laid his hand on the child's head--"here is mine, found at last." "lael is a good girl," uel said with pride. "yes, and as thou lovest her let me love her," the prince responded. then, seeing uel become serious, he added, "to help thee to my meaning, lael was my child's name, and she was the image of this one; and as she died when fourteen, thy lael's age, it is to me as if the tomb had miraculously rendered its victim back to me." "prince," said uel, "had i thought she would not be agreeable to you, i should have been sorry." "understand, son of jahdai," the other interposed, "i seek more of thee than thy permission to love her. i want to do by her as though she were mine naturally." "you would not take her from me?" "no. that would leave thee bereft as i have been. like me, thou wouldst then go up and down looking for some one to take her place in thy heart. be thou her father still; only let me help thee fashion her future." "her birthrights are humble," the shopkeeper answered, doubtfully; for while in his secret heart he was flattered, his paternal feeling started a scruple hard to distinguish from fear. a light shone brightly in the eyes of the elder jew, and his head arose. "humble!" he said. "she is a daughter of israel, an inheritor of the favor of the lord god, to whom all things are possible. he keeps the destinies of his people. he--not thou or i--knows to what this little one may come. as we love her, let us hope the happiest and the highest, and prepare her for it. to this end it were best you allow her to come to me as to another father. i who teach the deaf and dumb to speak--syama and nilo the elder--will make her a scholar such as does not often grace a palace. she shall speak the mediterranean tongues. there shall be no mysteries of india unknown to her. mathematics shall bring the heavens to her feet. especially shall she become wise in the chronicles of god. at the same time, lest she be educated into unfitness for the present conditions of life, and be unsexed, thou shalt find a woman familiar with society, and instal her in thy house as governess and example. if the woman be also of israel, so much the better; for then we may expect faithfulness without jealousy. and further, son of jahdai, be niggardly in nothing concerning our lael. clothe her as she were the king's daughter. at going abroad, which she shall do with me in the street and on the water, i would have her sparkle with jewels, the observed of everybody, even the emperor. and ask not doubtingly, 'whence the money for all this?' i will find it. what sayest thou now?" uel did not hesitate. "o prince, as thou dost these things for her--so far beyond the best i can dream of--take her for thine, not less than mine." with a beaming countenance, the elder raised the child, and kissed her on the forehead. "dost hear?" he said to her. "now art thou my daughter." she put her arms about his neck, then held them out to uel, who took her, and kissed her, saying: "oh my gul bahar!" "good!" cried the prince. "i accept the name. to distinguish the living from the dead, i too will call her my gul bahar." thereupon the men sat, and arranged the new relation, omitting nothing possible of anticipation. next day the prince's house was opened with every privilege to the child. a little later on a woman of courtly accomplishment was found and established under uel's roof as governess. thereupon the mystic entered upon a season during which he forgot the judgment upon him, and all else save gul bahar, and the scheme he brought from cipango. he was for the time as other men. in the lavishment of his love, richer of its long accumulation, he was faithful to his duty of teacher, and was amply rewarded by her progress in study. book iii the princess irene chapter i morning on the bosphorus our narrative proceeds now from a day in the third year after lael, the daughter of the son of jahdai, dropped into the life of the prince of india--a day in the vernal freshness of june. from a low perch above the mountain behind becos, the sun is delivering the opposite european shore of the bosphorus from the lingering shades of night. out on the bosom of the classic channel vessels are swinging lazily at their anchorages. the masthead of each displays a flag bespeaking the nationality of the owner; here a venetian, there a genoese, yonder a byzantine. tremulous flares of mist, rising around the dark hulls, become entangled in the cordage, and as if there were no other escape, resolve themselves into air. fisher boats are bringing their owners home from night-work over in the shallows of indjerkeui. gulls and cormorants in contentious flocks, drive hither and thither, turning and tacking as the schools of small fish they are following turn and tack down in the warm blue-green depths to which they are native. the many wings, in quick eccentric motion, give sparkling life to the empurpled distance. the bay of therapia, on the same european shore over against becos, was not omitted from rescue by the sun. within its lines this morning the ships were in greater number than out in the channel--ships of all grades, from the sea going commercial galley to the pleasure shallop which, if not the modern _caique_, was at least its ante-type in lightness and grace. and as to the town, one had but to look at it to be sure it had undergone no recent change--that in the day of constantine dragases it was the same summer resort it had been in the day of medea the sorceress--the same it yet is under sway of the benignant abdul-hamid. from the lower point northwardly jutting finger-like into the current of the channel, the beach swept in a graceful curve around to the base of the promontory on the south. then as now children amused themselves gathering the white and black pebbles with which it was strewn, and danced in and out with the friendly foam-capped waves. then as now the houses seemed tied to the face of the hill one above another in streetless disarrangement; insomuch that the stranger viewing them from his boat below shuddered thinking of the wild play which would ensue did an earthquake shake the hill ever so lightly. and then as now the promontory south served the bay as a partial land-lock. then as now it arose boldly a half mountain densely verdurous, leaving barely space enough for a roadway around its base. then as now a descending terrace of easy grade and lined with rock pine trees of broadest umbrella tops, slashed its whole townward front. sometime in the post-medean period a sharp-eyed greek discerned the advantages it offered for aesthetic purposes, and availed himself of them; so that in the age of our story its summit was tastefully embellished with water basins, white-roofed pavilions, and tessellated pavements roman style. alas, for the perishability of things human! and twice alas, that the beautiful should ever be the most perishable! but it is now to be said we have spoken thus of the bosphorus, and the bay and town of therapia, and the high promontory, as accessories merely to a plot of ground under the promontory and linked to it by the descending terrace. there is no word fitly descriptive of the place. ravine implies narrowness; gorge signifies depth; valley means width; dell is too toylike. a summer retreat more delicious could not be imagined. except at noon the sun did but barely glance into it. extending hundreds of yards back from the bay toward the highlands west of the town, it was a perfected garden of roses and flowering vines and shrubs, with avenues of boxwood and acacias leading up to ample reservoirs hidden away in a grove of beeches. the water flowing thence became brooks or was diverted to enliven fountains. one pipe carried it in generous flow to the summit of the promontory. in this leafy eden the birds of the climate made their home the year round. there the migratory nightingale came earliest and lingered longest, singing in the day as well as in the night. there one went regaled with the breath of roses commingled with that of the jasmine. there the bloom of the pomegranate flashed through the ordered thicket like red stars; there the luscious fig, ripening in its "beggar's jacket," offered itself for the plucking; there the murmur of the brooks was always in the listening ear. along the whole front of the garden, so perfectly a poet's ideal, stretched a landing defended from the incessant swash of the bay by a stone revetment. there was then a pavement of smoothly laid flags, and then a higher wall of dark rubble-work, coped with bevelled slabs. an open pavilion, with a bell-fashioned dome on slender pillars, all of wood red painted, gave admission to the garden. then a roadway of gray pebbles and flesh-tinted shells invited a visitor, whether afoot or on horseback, through clumps of acacias undergrown with carefully tended rosebushes, to a palace, which was to the garden what the central jewel is to the cluster of stones on "my lady's" ring. standing on a tumulus, a little removed from the foot of the promontory, the palace could be seen from cornice to base by voyagers on the bay, a quadrangular pile of dressed marble one story in height, its front relieved by a portico of many pillars finished in the purest corinthian style. a stranger needed only to look at it once, glittering in the sun, creamy white in the shade, to decide that its owner was of high rank--possibly a noble--possibly the emperor himself. it was the country palace of the princess irene, of whom we will now speak.[footnote: during the crimean war a military hospital was built over the basement vaults and cisterns of the palace here described. the hospital was destroyed by fire. for years it was then known as the "khedive's garden," being a favorite resort for festive parties from the capital. at present the promontory and the retreat it shelters pertain to the german embassy, a munificent gift from his majesty, sultan abdul-hamid.] chapter ii the princess irene [footnote: this name is of three syllables, and is pronounced as if spelled e-ren-ay; the last syllable to rhyme with day, say, may.] during the reign of the last manuel, in , as a writer has placed the incident--that is to say, about thirty-nine years prior to the epoch occupying us--a naval battle occurred between the turks and christians off plati, one of the isles of the princes. the issue was of interest to all the peoples who were in the habit of commercial resort in the region, to the venetians and genoese as well as the byzantines. to the latter it was of most vital moment, since defeat would have brought them a serious interruption of communication with the islands which still remained to the emperor and the powers in the west upon which their dependency grew as year after year their capacity for self-defence diminished. the turkish ships had been visible in the offing several days. at last the emperor concluded to allow his mariners to go out and engage them. his indecision had been from a difficulty in naming a commander. the admiral proper was old and inexperienced, and his fighting impulses, admitting they had ever really existed, had been lost in the habitudes of courtierly life. he had become little more than a ceremonial marker. the need of the hour was a genuine sailor who could manoeuvre a squadron. on that score there was but one voice among the seamen and with the public-- "manuel--give us manuel!" the cry, passing from the ships to the multitude in the city, assailed the palace. the reader should understand the manuel wanted was not the emperor, but one of his brothers who could lay no claim to birth in the purple. his mother had not been a lawful spouse; yet the manuel thus on the tongues of the many had made a hero of himself. he proved his temper and abilities in many successful affairs on the sea, and at length became a popular idol; insomuch that the imperial jealousy descended upon him like a cloud, and hid him away. nor could his admirers say he lived; he had a palace and a family, and it was not known that any of the monasteries in the city or on the isles of the princes had opened to receive him. on these shreds of evidence, affirmative and negative, slender as they may appear, it was believed he was yet alive. hence the clamor; and sooth to say it sufficed to produce the favorite; so at least the commonalty were pleased to think, though a sharper speculation would have scored the advent quite as much to the emergency then holding the empire in its tightening grip. restored to active life, manuel the sailor was given a reception in the hippodrome; then after a moment of gladness with his family, and another in which he was informed of the situation and trial before him, he hurried to assume the command. next morning, with the rising of the sun, the squadron under oar and sail issued gallantly from its retreat in the golden horn, and in order of battle sought the boastful enemy of plati. the struggle was long and desperate. its circumstances were dimly under view from the seaward wall in the vicinity of the seven towers. a cry of rejoicing from the anxious people at last rose strong enough to shake the turrets massive as they were--"kyrie eleison! kyrie eleison!" christ had made his cause victorious. his cross was in the ascendant. the turks drew out of the defeat as best they could, and made haste to beach the galleys remaining to them on the asiatic shore behind the low-lying islands. manuel the sailor became more than a hero; to the vulgar he was a savior. all byzantium and all galata assembled on the walls and water along the famous harbor to welcome him when, with many prizes and a horde of prisoners, he sailed back under the sun newly risen over the redeemed propontis. trumpets answered trumpets in brazen cheer as he landed. a procession which was a reminder of the triumphs of the ancient and better times of the empire escorted him to the hippodrome. the overhanging gallery reserved for the emperor there was crowded with the dignitaries of the court; the factions were out with their symbols of blue and green; the scene was gorgeous; yet the public looked in vain for manuel the emperor; he alone was absent; and when the dispersion took place, the byzantine spectators sought their homes shaking their heads and muttering of things in store for their idol worse than had yet befallen him. wherefore there was little or no surprise when the unfortunate again disappeared, this time with his whole family. the victory, the ensuing triumph, and the too evident popularity were more than the jealous emperor could overlook. there was then a long lapse of years. john palaeologus succeeded manuel on the throne, and was in turn succeeded by constantine, the last of the byzantine monarchs. constantine signalized his advent, the great greek event of , by numerous acts of clemency, for he was a just man. he opened many prison doors long hopelessly shut. he conferred honors and rewards that had been remorselessly erased from account. he condoned offences against his predecessors, mercifully holding them wanting in evil against himself. so it came to pass that manuel, the hero of the sea fight off plati, attained a second release, or, in better speech, a second resurrection. he had been all the years practically buried in certain cells of the convent of st. irene on the island of prinkipo, and now he came forth an old man, blind and too enfeebled to walk. borne into private audience, he was regarded by constantine with tender sympathy. "and thou art that manuel who made the good fight at plati?" "say rather i am he who was that manuel," the ancient replied. "death despises me now because he could not call my decease a victory." the inquisitor, visibly affected, next spoke in an uncertain voice. "is what i have heard true, that at thy going into the monastery thou hadst a family?" the eyes of the unfortunate were not too far gone for tears; some rolled down his cheeks; others apparently dropped into his throat. "i had a wife and three children. it is creditable to the feeling called love that they chose to share my fate. one only survives, and"--he paused as if feebly aware of the incoherency--"and she was born a prisoner." "born a prisoner!" exclaimed constantine. "where is she now?" "she ought to be here." the old man turned as he spoke, and called out anxiously: "irene--irene, where art thou, child?" an attendant, moved like his master, explained. "your majesty, his daughter is in the ante-room." "bring her here." there was a painful hush in the chamber during the waiting. when the daughter appeared, all eyes were directed to her--all but the father's, and even he was instantly aware of her presence; for which, doubtless, the sensibility known only to the long-time blind was sufficiently alive. "where hast thou been?" he asked, with a show of petulance. "calm thee, father, i am here." she took his hand to assure him, and then returned the look of the emperor; only his was of open astonishment, while hers was self-possessed. two points were afterwards remembered against her by the courtiers present; first, contrary to the custom of byzantine women, she wore no veil or other covering for the face; in the next place, she tendered no salutation to the emperor. far from prostrating herself, as immemorial etiquette required, she did not so much as kneel or bow her head. they, however, excused her, saying truly her days had been passed in the monastery without opportunity to acquire courtly manners. in fact they did not at the time notice the omissions. she was so beautiful, and her beauty reposed so naturally in an air of grace, modesty, intelligence, and purity that they saw nothing else. constantine recovered himself, and rising from his seat, advanced to the edge of the dais, which in such audiences, almost wholly without state, raised him slightly above his guests and attendants, and spoke to the father: "i know thy history, most noble greek--noble in blood, noble in loyalty, noble by virtue of what thou hast done for the empire--and i honor thee. i grieve for the suffering thou hast endured, and wish myself surrounded with many more spirits like thine, for then, from my exalted place, i could view the future and its portents with greater calmness of expectation, if not with more of hope. perhaps thou hast heard how sadly my inheritance has been weakened by enemies without and within; how, like limbs lopped from a stately tree, the themes [footnote: provinces.] richest in their yield of revenue have been wrested from the body of our state, until scarce more than the capital remains. i make the allusion in apology and excuse for the meagreness of what i have to bestow for thy many heroic services. wert thou in the prime of manhood, i would bring thee into the palace. that being impossible, i must confine myself to amends within my power. first, take thou liberty." the sailor sunk to his knees; then he fell upon his hands, and touched the floor with his forehead. in that posture, he waited the further speech. such was the prostration practised by the greeks in formally saluting their basileus. constantine proceeded. "take next the house here in the city which was thine when the judgment fell upon thee. it has been tenantless since, and may be in need of repairs; if so, report the cost they put thee to, and i will charge the amount to my civil list." looking then at the daughter, he added: "on our roumelian shore, up by therapia, there is a summer house which once belonged to a learned greek who was the happy possessor of a homer written masterfully on stainless parchment. he had a saying that the book should be opened only in a palace specially built for it; and, being rich, he indulged the fancy. he brought the marble from the pentelic quarries; nothing grosser was permitted in the construction. in the shade of a portico of many columns of corinthian model he passed his days reading to chosen friends, and living as the athenians were wont to live in the days of pericles. in my youth i dwelt much with him, and he so loved me that at dying he gave me the house, and the gardens and groves around it. they will help me now to make partial amends for injustice done; and when will a claimant appear with better right than the daughter of this brave man? in speaking but now, did he not call thee irene?" a flush overspread her neck and face, but she answered without other sign of feeling: "irene." "the house--it may be called a palace--and all that pertains to it, are thine," he continued. "go thither at will, and begin thy life anew." she took one step forward, but stopped as suddenly, her color coming and going. never had constantine seen wife or maid more beautiful. he almost dreaded lest the spell she cast over him would be broken by the speech trembling upon her lips. she moved quickly to the dais then, and taking his hand, kissed it fervently, saying: "almost i believe we have a christian emperor." she paused, retaining the hand, and looking up into his face. the spectators, mostly dignitaries of high degree, with their attendants, were surprised. some of them were shocked; for it should be remembered the court was the most rigidly ceremonial in the world. the rules governing it were the excerpt of an idea that the basileus or emperor was the incarnation of power and majesty. when spoken to by him, the proudest of his officials dropped their eyes to his embroidered slippers; when required to speak to him, they fell to their knees, and kept the posture till he was pleased to bid them rise. not one of them had ever touched his fingers, except when he deigned to hold them out to be most humbly saluted. their manner at such times was more than servility; in appearance, at least, it was worship. this explanation will enable the reader to understand the feeling with which they beheld the young woman keep the royal hand a prisoner in hers. some of them shuddered and turned their faces not to witness a familiarity so closely resembling profanation. constantine, on his part, looked down into the eyes of his fair kinswoman, knowing her speech was not finished. the slight inclination of his person toward her was intended for encouragement. indeed, he made no attempt to conceal the interest possessing him. "the empire may be shorn, even as thou hast said," she resumed presently, in a voice slightly raised. "but is not this city of our fathers by site and many advantages as much the capital of the world as ever? a christian emperor founded it, and his name was constantine; may it not be its perfect restoration is reserved for another constantine, also a christian emperor? search thy heart, o my lord! i have heard how noble impulses are often prophets without voices." constantine was impressed. from a young person, bred in what were really prison walls, the speech was amazing. he was pleased with the opinion she was evidently forming of himself; he was pleased with the hope she admitted touching the empire; he was pleased with the christian faith, the strength of mind, the character manifested. her loyalty to the old greek regime was unquestionable. the courtiers thought she might at least have made some acknowledgment of his princely kindness; but if he thought of the want of form, he passed it; enough for him that she was a lovely enthusiast. in the uncertainty of the moment, he hesitated; then, descending from the dais, he kissed her hand gracefully, courteously, reverently, and said simply: "may thy hope be god's will." turning from her, he helped the blind man to his feet, and declared the audience dismissed. alone with his secretary, the grand _logothete_, he sat awhile musing. "give ear," he at length said. "write it, a decree. fifty thousand gold pieces annually for the maintenance of manuel and irene, his daughter." the secretary at the first word became absorbed in studying his master's purple slippers; then, having a reply, he knelt. "speak," said constantine. "your majesty," the secretary responded, "there are not one thousand pieces in the treasury unappropriated." "are we indeed so poor?" the emperor sighed, but plucking spirit, went on bravely: "it may be god has reserved for me the restoration, not only of this city, but of the empire. i shall try to deserve the glory. and it may be that noble impulses _are_ speechless prophets. let the decree stand. heaven willing, we will find a way to make it good." chapter iii the homeric palace the reader is now informed of the history of irene, which is to he remembered as of an important personage in the succeeding pages. knowing also how she became possessed of the palace we have been at some pains to describe, he is prepared to see her at home. the night has retreated from the european shore of the bosphorus, although the morning is yet very young. the sun in the cloudless sky beyond becos, where it appears standing as if to rest from the fatigue of climbing the hills, is lifting therapia bodily out of its sparkling waters. in the bay moreover there are many calls of mariner to mariner, and much creaking of windlasses, and clashing of oars cast loose in their leather slings. to make the scene perfectly realistic there is a smell of breakfast cooking, not unpleasant to those within its waftage who are yet to have their appetites appeased. these sights, these sounds, these smells, none of them reach the palace in the garden under the promontory opposite the town. there the birds are singing their matin songs, the flowers loading the air with perfume, and vine and tree drinking the moisture borne down to them from the unresting sea so near in the north. [footnote: the black sea.] under the marble portico the mistress is sitting exactly in the place we can imagine the old greek loved most what time he read from his masterful copy of homer. between columns she saw the bosphorean expanse clear to the wooded asiatic shore. below was a portion of the garden through which the walk ran, with a graceful curve, to the red kiosk by the front gate. just beyond it the landing lay. around her were palm and rose trees in painted tubs, and in their midst, springing from a tall vase carven over with mythologic figures, a jasmine vine affected all the graces of its most delicate nature. within reach of her right hand there were platters of burnished brass on a table of ebony, its thin, spider legs inlaid with silver in lines. one of the platters bore a heap of white biscuits such as at this day are called crackers; the others supported pitchers, and some drinking cups, all of silver. the mistress sat in an arm-chair very smooth in finish despite the lineations sunk into its surfaces, and so roomy as to permit her to drop easily into a half-reclining posture. a footstool dressed in dark stamped leather was ready to lend its aid to gracefulness and comfort. we will presume now to introduce the reader to the princess irene, though, as the introduction must be in the way of description, our inability to render the subject adequately is admitted in advance. at the moment of first sight, she is sitting erect, her head turned slightly to the left shoulder, and both hands resting on the dog's head garnishing the right arm of the chair. she is gazing abstractedly out at the landing, as if waiting for some one overdue. the face is uncovered; and it is to be said here that, abhorring the custom which bound her byzantine sisterhood to veils, except when in the retiracy of their chambers, she was at all times brave enough to emphasize the abhorrence by discarding the encumbrance. she was never afraid of the effects of the sun on her complexion, and had the art of moving modestly and with composure among men, who, on their side, were used in meeting her to conceal their admiration and wonder under cover of grave respect. her figure, tall, slender, perfectly rounded, is clad in drapery of the purest classic mode. outwardly it consists of but two garments--a robe of fine white woollen stuff, and over it a mantle of the same texture and hue, hanging from a yoke of close-fitting flesh-colored silk richly embroidered with tyrian floss. a red rope loosely twisted girdles her body close under the breasts, from which, when she is standing, the gown in front falls to the feet, leaving a decided train. the mantle begins at a point just in front of the arm, under which, and along the sides, it hangs, like a long open sleeve, being cut away behind about half down the figure. the contrivance of the yoke enabled the artist, by gathering the drapery, to determine the lines in which it should drop, and they were few but positive. in movement, the train was to draw the gown to the form so its outlines could be easily followed from the girdle. the hair, of the tint of old gold, is dressed in the grecian style; and its abundance making the knot unusually ample, there was necessity for the two fillets of pink silk to keep it securely in place. the real difficulty in the description is now reached. to a reader of sharp imagination it might be sufficient to say the face of the princess irene, seen the morning in question, was perfectly regular, the brows like pencilling, the nose delicate, the eyes of violet shading into blackness, the mouth small with deep corners and lips threads of scarlet, the cheeks and brow precisely as the received law of beauty would have them. this would authorize a conception of surpassing loveliness; and perhaps it were better did we stop with the suggestions given, since the fancy would then be left to do its own painting. but patience is besought, for vastly more than a face of unrivalled perfection, the conjuration is a woman who yet lives in history as such a combination of intellect, spirit, character, and personal charm that men, themselves rulers and conquerors, fell before her at sight. under necessity therefore of going on with the description, what words are at command to convey an idea of the complexion--a property so wholly unartificial with her that the veins at the temples were as transparent shadows on snow, and the coloring of the cheeks like a wash of roses? what more is there than to point to the eyes of the healthful freshness peculiar to children of tender nurture; the teeth exquisitely regular and of the whiteness of milk and the lustre of pearls; the ears small, critically set, and tinted pink and white, like certain shells washed ashore last night? what more? ah, yes! there are the arms bare from the shoulder, long and round as a woman's should be, and terminating in flexile wrists, and hands so gracefully modelled we shrink from thought of their doing more than making wreaths of flowers and playing with harp strings. there too is the pose of the head expressive of breeding and delicacy of thought and feeling, of pride and courage--the pose unattainable by effort or affectation, and impossible except where the head, itself faultless, is complemented by a neck long, slender, yet round, pliant, always graceful, and set upon shoulders the despair of every one but the master who found perfection of form and finish in the lilies of the madonna. finally there is the correspondence, in action as well as repose, of body, limbs, head, and face, to which, under inspiration of the soul, the air and manner of lovely women are always referable. the princess was yet intensely observing the stretch of water before her, and the rapid changes of the light upon its face, when a boat, driven by a single oarsman, drew up to the landing, and disembarked a passenger. that he was not the person she was expecting became instantly apparent. she glanced at him once, and then, satisfied he was a stranger in whom she had no interest, resumed study of the bay. he, however, after dropping something in the boatman's hand, turned, and walked to the gateway, and through it towards the palace. ere long a servant, whose very venerable appearance belied the steel-pointed javelin he carried, hobbled slowly along the floor of the portico marshalling a visitor. she touched the golden knot at the back of her head to be assured of its arrangement, arose, shook out the folds of her gown and mantle, and was prepared for the interruption. the costume of the stranger was new to the princess. a cassock of mixed white and brown wool that had gone through a primitive loom with little of any curative process except washing, hung from his neck to his heels. aside from the coarseness of warp and woof, it fitted so closely that but for a slit on each side of the skirt walking would have been seriously impeded. the sleeves were long and loose, and covered the hands. from the girdle of untanned skin a double string of black horn beads, each large as a walnut, dropped to his knees. the buckle of the girdle, which might have been silver deeply oxidized, was conspicuously large, and of the rudest workmanship. but withal much the most curious part of the garb was the cowl, if such it may be called. projecting over the face so far as to cast the features in shadow, it carried on the sides of the head broad flaps, not unlike the ears of an elephant. this envelope was hideous, yet it served to exalt the man within to giantesque proportions. the princess surveyed the visitor with astonishment hardly concealed. what part of the world could produce a creature so utterly barbarous? what business could he have with her? was he young or old? twice she scanned him from head to foot. he was a monk; so much the costume certified; and while he stopped before her with one foot advanced from the edge of the skirt, and resting lightly in the clasp of the thongs of a very old-fashioned sandal, she saw it was white, and blue veined, and at the edges pink, like a child's, and she said to herself, "he is young--a young monastic." the stranger drew from his girdle a linen package carefully folded, kissed it reverently, and said: "would the princess irene be pleased if i open the favor for her?" the voice was manly, the manner deferential. "is it a letter?" she asked. "a letter from the holy father, the archimandrite of the greatest of the northern lavras." [footnote: monasteries.] "its name?" "bielo-osero." "the bielo-osero? where is it?" "in the country of the great prince." [footnote: russia.] "i knew not that i had an acquaintance in so distant a region as the north of russia. you may open the letter." unmindful of the indifferent air of the princess, the monk removed the cloth, leaving its folds hanging loosely from his hand. a sheet of vellum was exposed lying on the covered palm. "the holy father bade me when i delivered the writing, o princess, to deliver his blessing also; which--the saying is mine, not his--is of more worth to the soul than a coffer of gold for the wants of the body." the pious comment was not lost; but without a word, she took the vellum, and resuming her seat, addressed herself to the reading. first, her eyes dropped to the signature. there was a look of surprise--another of uncertainty--then an exclamation: "hilarion! not my father hilarion! he is but a sacred memory! he went away and died--and yet this is his hand. i know it as i know my own." the monk essayed to remove the doubt. "permit me," he said, then asked, "is there not an island hereabouts called prinkipo?" she gave him instant attention. "and on the side of the island over against the asiatic coast, under a hill named kamares, is there not a convent built centuries ago by an empress?" "irene," she interposed. "yes, irene--and was not father hilarion for many years abbot of the convent? then, on account of his fame for learning and piety, did not the patriarch exalt him to attendance on his own person as doctor of the gospels? still later, was he not summoned to serve the emperor in the capacity of warden of the purple ink?" "from whom have you all these things?" she asked. "excellent princess, from whom could i have them save the good father himself?" "thou art then his messenger?" "it becomes me better to refer you to what he has there written." so saying, the monk stepped backward, and stood a little way off in a respectful attitude. she raised the missive, and kissed the signature several times, exclaiming: "now hath god taken care of his own!" then she said to the monk, "thou art indeed a messenger with good tidings." and he, accepting the welcome, uncovered his head, by raising the hideous _klobouk_, [footnote: cowl.] and letting it fall back pendant from his shoulders. the violet eyes of the princess opened wider, brightening as with a sudden influx of light. she could not remember a finer head or a face more perfect in manly beauty, and at the same time so refined and gentle. and he was so young--young even as herself--certainly not more than twenty. such was her first general impression of him. for the pleasure there was in the surprise, she would not allow it to be observed, but said: "the father in his letter, no doubt, tells me thy name, but since i wish to reserve the reading, i hope thou wilt not be offended if i ask it directly." "the name my mother gave me is andre; but when i came to be a deacon in our bielo-osero, father hilarion, who presided at the raising, asked me how i wished to be known in the priesthood, and i answered him, sergius. andre was a good christening, and serves well to remind me of my dear mother; but sergius is better, because at hearing it i am always reminded that by vows and solemn rites of ordination i am a servant of god." "i will endeavor to remember thy preference," the princess said; "but just now, good sergius, it is of next importance to know if thou hast yet had breakfast?" a smile helped his face to even more of pleasantness. "no," he answered, "but i am used to fasting, and the great city is not more than two hours away." she looked concerned. "thy patron saint hath not deserted thee. here is a table already set. he for whom i held it is long on the road; thou shalt take his place, and be not less welcome." to the old servant she added: "we have a guest, not an enemy, lysander. put up thy javelin, and bring a seat for him; then stand behind him, lest it happen one service of the cups be not enough." directly the two were at the table opposite each other. chapter iv the russian monk sergius took a glass of red wine from the old attendant, and said: "i should like your permission, o princess, to make a confession." his manner was that of one unused to the society of women. he was conscious she was studying him, and spoke to divert her. as she was slow answering, he added: "that you may not think me disposed to abuse the acquaintance you honor me with, especially as you have not yet read the letter of the good father hilarion upon which i rely for your better regard, i ask the permission rather to show the degree of your kindness to me. it may interest you also to learn of the confirmation of a certain faith you are perhaps unwittingly lending a novice in the ways of the world." she had been studying him, and her first impression was now confirmed. his head in shape and pose was a poet's; the long, wavy, flaxen hair, parted in the middle, left small space for the forehead, which was nevertheless broad and white, with high-arched, well-defined brows for base. the eyes were gray. in repose they had a dreamy introspectional expression. the mustache and beard, the first growth of youth spent entirely indoors, were as yet too light to shade any part of the face. the nose was not enough _retrousse_ to be irregular. in brief, the monk was of the type now well known as russian. aside from height and apparent muscularity, he very nearly realized the byzantine ideal of christ as seen in the cartoons excellently preserved in a mosque of stamboul not far from the gate anciently san romain now _top kapoussi_. the appearance of the young monk, so strikingly suggestive of the being most sacred in the estimation of the princess, was at the moment less curious to her than a certain habit observable in him. the look of brightness attendant upon the thought he was putting into form would, when the utterance was through, suffer a lapse which, for want of strictly definite words, may be described as a sombering of the eyes when they were widest open, a gazing beyond at something else than the opposite speaker; implying that the soul was become mysteriously occupied apart from the mind. the effect was as if she had before her two widely different characters making themselves present at the same time in one person. unquestionably, though rarely, there is a duality of nature in men, by which, to put it extremely, a seeming incapable may be vastly capable, outward gentleness a mask for a spirit of neronian violence, dulness a low-lying cloud surcharged with genius. what shall be done with such a nature? when may it be relied upon? who shall ever come to really know it? occupied with the idea, the princess heard but the conclusion of the monk's somewhat awkward apology, and she answered: "the confession must be of something lighter than a sin. i will listen." "a sin!" he exclaimed, with a blush. "pardon me, o princess. it was a trifle of which i spoke too seriously. i promise thou shalt take from it nothing worse than a laugh at my simplicity. see thou these things?" he gave her a glance full of boyish humor, and from a breast pocket of his cassock drew a bag of coarse yellow silk; thrusting a hand into its mouth, he then brought out a number of square leathern chips stamped with sunken letters, and laid them on the table before her. "this you must know is our money." the princess examined the pieces, and said: "i doubt if our tradesmen would accept them." "they will not. i am a witness to the fact. nevertheless they will carry a traveller, go he either way, from one end of our great prince's realm to the other. when i left the lavra, setting out on my journey, father hilarion gave me the bag, saying, as he put it into my hand, 'now upon coming to the port where the ship awaits thee, be sure to exchange the money with the merchants there for byzantine gold; else, unless god come to thy aid, thou wilt be turned into a mendicant.' and so i fully meant to do; but when i reached the port, i found it a city large, and full of people and sights wonderful to me, demanding to be seen. i forgot the injunction. indeed i never thought of it until this morning." here he laughed at himself, proving he was not yet seriously alive to the consequences of his negligence. presently he resumed: "i landed only last night, and sick from the tossing of the sea, put up at an inn in the town yonder. i ordered breakfast, and, according to a custom of my people, offered to pay before tasting. the master of the house looked at my money, and told me to show him coin of gold; if not that, then copper or brass, or even iron, in pieces bearing the name of the emperor. being told i had only this, he bade me look elsewhere for breakfast. now i had designed going to the great city to kiss the hand of the patriarch, of whom i have always heard as the wisest of men, before coming to thee; but the strait i was in was hard. could i expect better of the innkeepers there? i had a button of gold--a memorial of my entry into the lavra. that day father hilarion blessed it three times; and it bore a cross upon its face which i thought might make it acceptable as if it were lettered with the name of constantine. a boatman consented to take it for rowing me to thy landing. behold! thou hast my confession!" his speech to this time had been in greek singularly pure and fluent; now he hesitated, while his eyes, open to the full, sombered, as if from a field in the brain back of them a shadow was being cast through his face. when next he spoke it was in his native tongue. the princess observed her guest with increasing interest; for she was wholly unused to such artlessness in men. how could father hilarion have intrusted business of importance to an envoy so negligent? his confession, as he termed it, was an admission, neither more nor less, that he had no money of the country into which he was come. and further, how could the habit of lapsing in thought, or more simply, of passing abruptly from the present subject, be explained except on the theory of something to which he had so given himself it had become overmastering and all absorbent? this, she saw intuitively, would prove the key to the man; and she set about finding it out. "your greek, good sergius, is excellent; yet i did not understand the words with which you concluded." "i beg pardon," he replied, with a change of countenance. "in my mother's tongue i repeated a saying of the psalmist, which you shall have voice and look as father hilarion has given it to me oftener than i am days old." then his voice lowered into a sweet intensity fitting the text: "'the lord is my shepherd; i shall not want.' those were the words, princess; and who shall say they do not comprehend all there is of religion?" the answer was unexpected, the manner affecting; never had she heard conviction and faith more perfectly affirmed. more than a monk, the young man might be a preacher! and father hilarion might have grown wiser of his years! perhaps he knew, though at a vast distance, that the need of the hour in constantinople was not a new notable--a bishop or a legate--so much as a voice with power of persuasion to still the contentions with which her seven hills were then resounding. the idea, though a surmise, was strong enough to excite a desire to read the holy man's letter. she even reproached herself for not having done so. "the worthy priest gave me the same saying in the same words," she said, rising, "and they lose nothing of their meaning by thy repetition. we may speak of them hereafter. for the present, to keep thee from breakfast were cruel. i will go and make terms with my conscience by reading what thou hast brought me from the father. help thyself freely as if thou wert the most favored of guests; or rather "--she paused to emphasize the meaning--"as though i had been bidden to prepare for thy coining. should there be failure in anything before thee, scruple not to ask for more. lysander will be at thy service. i may return presently." the monk arose respectfully, and stood until she disappeared behind the vases and flowers, leaving in his memory a fadeless recollection of graciousness and beauty, which did not prevent him from immediately addressing himself as became a hungry traveller. chapter v a voice from the cloister while the princess irene traversed the portico, she repeated the words, the lord is my shepherd; i shall not want; and she could see how the negligent, moneyless monk, turned away at the inn, was provided for in his moment of need, and also that she was the chosen purveyor; if so, by whom chosen? the young man had intended calling on the patriarch first; who brought him to her? the breakfast was set for an invited guest; what held him back, if not the power that led the stranger to her gate? in saying now that one of the consequences of the religious passion characteristic of the day in the east--particularly in constantinople--a passion so extreme as to induce the strongest minds to believe god, and the son, and even the holy mother discernible in the most commonplace affairs--our hope is to save the princess from misjudgment. really the most independent and fearless of spirits, if now and then she fell into the habit of translating the natural into the supernatural, she is entitled to mercy, since few things are harder to escape than those of universal practice. through a doorway, chiselled top and jambs, she entered a spacious hall nude of furniture, though richly frescoed, and thence passed into a plain open, court coolly shaded, having in the centre a jet of water which arose and fell into a bowl of alabaster. the water overflowing the bowl was caught again in a circular basin which, besides the ornamental carving on the edge and outside, furnished an ample pool for the gold fish disporting in it. in the court there were also a number of women, mostly young greeks, sewing, knitting, and embroidering vestments. upon her entrance they arose, let their work drop on the spotless white marble at their feet, and received her in respectful silence. signing them to resume their labor, she took a reserved chair by the fountain. the letter was in her hand, but a thought had the precedence. admitting she had been chosen to fulfil the saying quoted, was the call for the once only? when the monk went up to the city, was her ministry to end? would not that be a half-performance? how much farther should she go? she felt a little pang of trouble, due to the uncertainty that beset her, but quieted it by an appeal to the letter. crossing herself, and again kissing the signature, she began the reading, which, as the hand was familiar to her, and the composition in the most faultless greek of the period, was in nowise a perplexity. "bielo-osero, _d june_, . "from hilarion, the hegumen, to irene, his well-beloved daughter. "thou hast thought of me this longtime as at rest forever--at rest with the redeemer. while there is nothing so the equivalent of death as silence, there is no happiness so sweet as that which springs upon us unexpectedly. in the same sense the resurrection was the perfect complement of the crucifixion. more than all else, more than the sermon on the mount, more than his miracles, more than his unexampled life, it lifted our lord above the repute of a mere philosopher like socrates. we have tears for his much suffering; but we sing as miriam sang when we think of his victory over the grave. i would not compare myself to him; yet it pleases me believing these lines, so unexpected, will give thee a taste of the feeling the marys had, when, with their spices in hand, they sought the sepulchre and found only the angels there. "let me tell thee first of my disappearance from constantinople. i repented greatly my taking from the old convent by the patriarch; partly because it separated me from thee at a time when thy mind was opening to receive the truth and understand it. yet the call had a sound as if from god. i feared to disobey it. "then came the summons of the emperor. he had heard of my life, and, as a counteraction of vice, he wanted its example in the palace. i held back. but the patriarch prevailed on me, and i went up and suffered myself to be installed keeper of the purple ink. then indeed i became miserable. to such as i, what is sitting near the throne? what is power when not an instrument of mercy, justice and charity? what is easy life, except walking in danger of habits enervating to the hope of salvation? oh, the miseries i witnessed! and how wretched the sight of them, knowing they were beyond my help! i saw moreover the wickedness of the court. did i speak, who listened except to revile me? went i to celebrations in this or that church, i beheld only hypocrisy in scarlet. how often, knowing the sin-stains upon the hands of the celebrants at the altar in sta. sophia, the house in holiness next to the temple of solomon--how often, seeing those hands raise the blood of christ in the cup before the altar, have i trembled, and looked for the dome above to let consuming vengeance in upon us, the innocent with the guilty! "at last fear filled all my thoughts, and forbade sleep or any comfort. i felt i must go, and quickly, or be lost for denial of covenants made with him, the ultimate judge, in whose approval there is the peace that passeth understanding. i was like one pursued by a spirit making its presence known to me in sobs and plaints, stinging as conscience stings. "consent to my departure was not to be expected; for great men dislike to have their favors slighted. it was not less clear that formal resignation of the official honor i was supposed to be enjoying would be serviceable to the courtiers who were not so much my enemies personally as they were enemies of religion and contemners of all holy observances. and there were so many of them! alas, for the admission! what then was left but flight? "whither? i thought first of jerusalem; but who without abasement can inhabit with infidels? then hagion oras, the holy hill, occurred to me; the same argument applied against it as against return to the convent of irene-i would be in reach of the emperor's displeasure. one can study his own heart. holding mine off, and looking at it alive with desires holy and unholy, i detected in it a yearning for hermitage. how beautiful solitude appears! in what condition can one wishing to change his nature for the better more certainly attain the end than without companionship except of god always present? the spirit of prayer is a delicate minister; where can we find purer nourishment for it than in the silence which at noon is deep as at midnight? "in this mood the story of the russian st. sergius reverted to me. he was born at rostoff. filled with pious impulses more than dissatisfied with the world, of which he knew nothing, with a brother, he left his father's house when yet a youth and betook himself to a great woods in the region radenego; there he dwelt among savage beasts and wild men, fasting and praying and dependent like elijah of old. his life became a notoriety. others drew to him. with his own hands he built a wooden church for his disciples, giving it the name of troitza or thrice holy trinity. thither i wandered in thought. a call might be there for me, so weary of the egotism, envy, detraction, greed, grind and battle of the soulless artificiality called society. "i left blacherne in the night, and crossing the sea in the north--no wonder it is so terrible to the poor mariner who has to hunt his daily bread upon its treacherous waves--i indulged no wait until, in the stone church of the holy trinity, i knelt before the remains of the revered russian hermit, and thanked god for deliverance and freedom. "the troitza was no longer the simple wooden church of its founder. i found it a collection of monasteries. the solitude of my dreams was to be sought northward further. some years before, a disciple of sergius--cyrill by name, since canonized--unterrified by winters which dragged through three quarters of the year, wandered off to a secluded place on the shore of the white lake, where he dwelt until, in old age, a holy house was required to accommodate his following. he called it bielo-osero. there i installed myself, won by the warmth of my welcome. "now when i departed from blacherne, i took with me, besides the raiment i wore, two pieces of property; a copy of the rule of the studium monastery, and a _panagia_ given me by the patriarch--a medallion portrait of the blessed mother of our lord the saviour, framed in gold, and set in brilliants. i carry it hanging from my neck. even in sleep it is always lying just above my heart. the day is not far now when my need of it will be over; then i will send it to thee in notice that i am indeed at rest, and that in dying i wished to lend thee a preservative against ills of the soul and fear of death. "the rule was acceptable to the brotherhood. they adopted it, and its letter and spirit prevailing, the house came in time to be odorous for sanctity. eventually, though against my will, they raised me their hegumen. and so my story reaches its end. may it find thee enjoying the delight of the soul's rest i have been enjoying without interruption since i began life anew in this retreat, where the days are days of prayer, and the nights illuminated by visions of paradise and heaven. "in the next place, i pray thou wilt take the young brother by whom this will be delivered into friendly care. i myself raised him to a deaconship of our monastery. his priestly name is sergius. he was scarcely out of boyhood when i came here; it was not long, however, before i discovered in him the qualities which drew me to thee during thy prison life at the old convent of irene--a receptive mind, and a native proneness to love god. i made his way easy. i became his teacher, as i had been thine; and as the years flew by he reminded me more and more of thee, not merely with respect to mental capacity, but purity of soul and aspiration as well. need i say how natural it was for me to love him? had i not just come from loving thee? "the brethren are good men, though unmannerly, and for the most part the word reaches them from some other's tongue. filling the lad's mind was like filling a lamp with oil. how precious the light it would one day shed abroad! and how much darkness there was for it to dispel! and in the darkness--mercy, mercy! how many are in danger of perishing! "never did i think myself so clearly a servant of god as in the time sergius was under my instruction. thou, alas! being a woman, wert like a strong-winged bird doomed at best to a narrow cage. the whole world was before him. "of the many notes i have been compelled to take of the wants of religion in this our age, none so amazes me as the lack of preachers. we have priests and monks. their name is legion. who of them can be said to have been touched with the fire that fell upon the faithful of the original twelve? where among them is an athanasius? or a chrysostom? or an augustine? slowly, yet apace with his growth, i became ambitious for the young man. he showed quickness and astonishing courage. no task appalled him. he mastered the tongues of the nationalities represented around him as if he were born to them. he took in memory the gospels, the psalms, and the prophetic books of the bible. he replies to me in greek undistinguishable from mine. i began to dream of him a preacher like st. paul. i have heard him talking in the stone chapel, when the sleet-ridden winds without had filled it with numbing frost, and seen the brotherhood rise from their knees, and shout, and sing, and wrestle like madmen. it is not merely words, and ideas, and oratorical manner, but all of them, and more--when aroused, he has the faculty of pouring out his spirit, so that what he says takes hold of a hearer, making him calm if in a passion, and excited if in a calm. the willing listen to him from delight, the unwilling and opposite minded because he enchains them. "the pearl seemed to me of great price. i tried to keep it free of the dust of the world. with such skill as i possess, i have worn its stains and roughnesses away, and added to its lustre. now it goes from me. "you must not think because i fled to this corner of the earth, there is any abatement of my affection for constantinople; on the contrary, absence has redoubled the love for it with which i was born. is it not still the capital of our holy religion? occasionally a traveller comes this way with news of the changes it has endured. thus one came and reported the death of the emperor john, and the succession of constantine; another told of justice finally done thy heroic father, and of thy prosperity; more lately a wandering monk, seeking solitude for his soul's sake, joined our community, and from him i hear that the old controversy with the latins has broken out anew, and more hotly than ever; that the new emperor is an _azymite_, and disposed to adhere to the compact of union of the churches east and west made with the pope of rome by his predecessor, leaving heart-blisters burning as those which divided the jews. indeed, i much fear the likeness may prove absolute. it certainly will when the turk appears before our holy city as titus before jerusalem. "this latest intelligence induced me at last to yield to sergius' entreaties to go down to constantinople, and finish there the courses begun here. it is true he who would move the world must go into the world; at the same time i confess my own great desire to be kept informed of the progress of the discussion between the churches had much to do with my consent to his departure. he has instructions to that effect, and will obey them. therefore i pray thee receive him kindly for his own sake, for mine, and the promise of good in him to the cause of jesus, our beloved master. "in conclusion, allow me, daughter--for such thou wert to thy father, to thy mother, and to me--allow me to recur to circumstances which, after calm review, i pronounce the most interesting, the most delightful, the most cherished of my life. "the house under the kameses hill at prinkipo was a convent or refuge for women rather than men; yet i was ordered thither when thy father was consigned to it after his victory over the turks. i was then comparatively young, but still recollect the day he passed the gate going in with his family. thenceforward, until the patriarch took me away, i was his confessor. "death is always shocking. i remember its visits to the convent while i was of its people; but when it came and took thy sisters we were doubly grieved. as if the ungrateful emperor could not be sufficiently cruel, it seemed heaven must needs help him. the cloud of those sad events overhung the community a long time; at length there was a burst of sunshine. one came to my cell and said, 'come, rejoice with us--a baby is born in the house.' thou wert the baby; and thy appearance was the first of the great gladnesses to which i have referred. "and not less distinctly i live over the hour we met in the chapel to christen thee. the bishop was the chief celebrant; but not even the splendor of his canonicals--the cope with the little bells sewn down the sides and along the sleeves, the ompharium, the _panagia_, the cross, the crozier--were enough to draw my eyes from the dimpled pink face half-hidden in the pillow of down on which they held thee up before the font. and now the bishop dipped his fingers in the holy water--'by what name is this daughter to be known?' and i answered, 'irene.' thy parents had been casting about for a name. 'why not call her after the convent?' i asked. they accepted the suggestion; and when i gave it out that great day--to the convent it was holiday--it seemed a door in my heart of which i was unknowing opened of itself, and took thee into a love-lined chamber to be sweet lady at home forever. such was the second of my greatest happinesses. "and then afterwhile thy father gave thee over to me to be educated. i made thy first alphabet, illuminating each letter with my own hand. dost thou remember the earliest sentence i heard thee read? or, if ever thou dost think of it now, be reminded it was thy first lesson in writing and thy first in religion--'the lord is my shepherd; i shall not want.' and thence what delight i found in helping thee each day a little further on in knowledge until at length we came to where thou couldst do independent thinking. "it was in sta. sophia--in my memory not more than an occurrence of yesterday. thou and i had gone from the island up to the holy house, where we were spectators of a service at which the emperor, as basileus, and the patriarch were celebrants. the gold on cope and ompharium cast the space about the altar into a splendor rich as sunshine. then thou asked me, 'did christ and his disciples worship in a house like this? and were they dressed as these are?' i was afraid of those around us, and told thee to use eye and ear, but the time for questions and answers would be when we were back safely in the old convent. "when we were there, thou didst renew the questions, and i did not withhold the truth. i told thee of the lowliness and simple ways of jesus--how he was clothed--how the out-doors was temple sufficient for him. i told thee of his preaching to the multitude on the shore of the galilean sea--i told of his praying in the garden of gethsemane--i told of the attempt to make a king of him whether he would or not, and how he escaped from the people--of how he set no store by money or property, titles, or worldly honors. "then thou didst ask, 'who made worship so formal?' and again i answered truthfully, there was no church until after the death of our lord; that in course of two hundred years kings, governors, nobles and the great of the earth were converted to the faith, and took it under their protection; that then, to conform it to their tastes and dignity, they borrowed altars from pagans, and recast the worship so sumptuously in purple and gold the apostles would not have recognized it. then, in brief, i began telling thee of the primitive church of christ, now disowned, forgotten or lost in the humanism of religious pride. "oh, the satisfaction and happiness in that teaching! at each lesson it seemed i was taking thee closer to the dear christ from whom the world is every year making new roads to get further away--the dear christ in search of whom i plunged into this solitude. "how is it with thee now, my daughter? dost thou still adhere to the primitive church? do not fear to speak thy mind to sergius. he too is in the secret of our faith, believing it best to love our lord from what our lord hath himself said. "now i bring this letter to a close. let me have reply by sergius, who, when he has seen constantinople, will come back to me, unless he who holds every man's future in keeping discovers for him a special use. "do not forget me in thy prayers. "blessings on thee! hilarion." the princess read the letter a second time. when she came to the passage referring to the primitive church, her hands dropped into her lap, and she thought: "the father planted right well--better than he was aware, as he himself would say did he know my standing now." a glow which might have been variously taken for half-serious, half-mocking defiance shone in her eyes as the thought ran on: "ay, dear man! did he know that for asserting the primitive church as he taught it to me in the old convent, the greeks and the latins have alike adjudged me a heretic; that nothing saves me from the lions of the cynegion, except my being a woman--a woman forever offending by going when and where i wist with my face bare, and therefore harmless except to myself. if he knew this, would he send me his blessing? he little imagined--he who kept his opinion to himself because he could see no good possible from its proclamation--that i, the prison-bred girl he so loved, and whom he helped make extreme in courage as in conviction, would one day forget my sex and condition, and protest with the vehemence of a man against the religious madness into which the christian world is being swept. oh, that i were a man!" folding the letter hastily, she arose to return to her guest. there was fixedness of purpose in her face. "oh, that i were a man!" she repeated, while passing the frescoed hall on the way out. in the portico, with the white light of the marble whitening her whole person, and just as the monk, tall, strong, noble looking, despite the grotesqueness of his attire, was rising from the table, she stopped, and clasped her hands. "i have been heard!" she thought, trembling. "that which it refused to make me, heaven has sent me. here is a man! and he is certified as of my faith, and has the voice, the learning, the zeal and courage, the passion of truth to challenge a hearing anywhere. welcome sergius! in want thou camest; in want thou didst find me. the lord _is_ shepherd unto us both." she went to him confidently, and offered her hand. her manner was irresistible; he had no choice but to yield to it. "thou art not a stranger, but sergius, my brother. father hilarion has explained everything." he kissed her hand, and replied: "i was overbold, princess; but i knew the father would report me kindly; and i was hungry." "it is my part now to see the affliction comes not back again. so much has the shepherd already determined. but, speaking as thy sister, sergius, thy garments appear strange. doubtless they were well enough in the bielo-osero, where the rule of the studium is law instead of fashion; but here we must consult customs or be laughed at, which would be fatal to the role i have in mind for thee." then with a smile, she added, "observe the dominion i have already assumed." he answered with a contented laugh: whereupon she went on, but more gravely: "we have the world to talk over; but lysander will now take you to your room, and you will rest until about mid-afternoon, when my boat will come to the landing to carry us to the city. the cowl you must exchange for a hat and veil, the sandals for shoes, the coarse cassock for a black gown; and, if we have time, i will go with you to the patriarch." sergius followed lysander submissively as a child. chapter vi what do the stars say? the sun which relieved the bay of therapia from the thraldom of night did the same service for the golden horn; only, with a more potential voice, it seemed to say to the cities which were the pride of the latter, awake! arise! and presently they were astir indoor and out. of all the souls who, obedient to the early summons, poured into the street, and by the south window of the study of the prince of india, some going this direction, some that, yet each intent upon a particular purpose, not one gave a thought to the prince, or so much as wondered if he were awake. and the indifference of the many was well for him; it gave him immunity to pursue his specialty. but as we, the writer and the reader, are not of the many, and have an interest in the man from knowing more about him than they, what would have been intrusion in them may be excused in us. exactly at midnight the prince, aroused by syama, had gone to the roof, where there was a table, with a lamp upon it which he could shade at pleasure, an hour-glass, and writing materials. an easy chair was also set for him. the view of the city offered for his inspection was circumscribed by the night. the famous places conspicuous in daytime might as well have been folded up and put away in a closet; he could not see so much as a glimmer of light from any of them. pleased thereby, and arguing that even the wicked are good when asleep, he swept the heavens with a glance so long and searching there could be no doubt of the purpose which had brought him forth. next, according to the habit of astrologers, he proceeded to divide the firmament into angles and houses, and taking seat by the table, arranged the lamp to suit him, started the hour-glass running, and drew a diagram familiar to every adept in divinatory science--a diagram of the heavens with the houses numbered from one to twelve inclusive. in the houses he then set the mystic symbols of the visible planets as they were at the moment in position, mindful not merely of the parallels, but of the degrees as well. verifying the correctness of the diagram by a second survey of the mighty overarch more careful even than the first, he settled himself in the chair, saying complacently: "now, o saturn, thou, the coldest and highest! thy houses are ready--come, and at least behold them. i wait the configurations." thereupon, perfectly at ease, he watched the stellar hosts while, to their own music, they marched past the thrones of the most high planets unchallenged except by him. occasionally he sat up to reverse the hour-glass, though more frequently he made new diagrams, showing the changes in position of the several influential bodies relatively to each other and to the benefic or malific signs upon which so much of result depended; nor did his eyes once weary or his zeal flag. finally when the sun, yet under the horizon behind the heights of scutari, began to flood the sky with a brilliance exceeding that of the bravest of the stars, he collected the drawings, extinguished the lamp, and descended to his study, but not to rest. immediately that the daylight was sufficient, he addressed himself to mathematical calculations which appeared exhaustive of every rule and branch of the disciplinary science. hours flew by, and still he worked. he received syama's call to breakfast; returning from the meal, always the simplest of the day with him, he resumed the problem. either he was prodigiously intent on a scheme in mind, or he was occupying himself diligently in order to forget himself. about noon he was interrupted. "my father." recognizing the voice, he pushed the proofs of labor from him almost to the other side of the table, turned in his seat, and replied, his face suffused with pleasure: "thou enemy to labor! did not some one tell thee of what i have on hand, and how i am working to finish it in time to take the water with thee this afternoon? answer, o my gul-bahar, more beautiful growing as the days multiply!" the lael of the son of jahdai, the gul-bahar of the mysterious prince, was much grown, and otherwise greatly changed since we saw her last. each intervening year had in passing left her a benediction. she was now about sixteen, slight, and jewish in eyes, hair, and complexion. the blood enriched her olive cheeks; the lips took a double freshness from health; the smile resting habitually on the oval face had a tale it was always telling of a nature confiding, happy, satisfied with its conditions, hopeful of the future, and unaware from any sad experience that life ever admitted of changes. her beauty bore the marks of intelligence; her manner was not enough self-contained to be called courtly; yet it was easy, and carried its own certificate of culture; it yielded too much to natural affection to deserve the term dignified. one listening to her, and noticing the variableness of her mood, which in almost the same instant could pass from gay to serious without ever reaching an extreme, would pronounce her too timid for achievement outside the purely domestic; at the same time he would think she appeared lovable to the last degree, and might be capable of loving in equal measure. she was dressed in byzantine fashion. in crossing the street from her father's house, she had thrown a veil over her head, but it was now lying carelessly about her neck. the wooden sandals with blocks under them, like those yet worn by women in levantine countries to raise them out of the dust and mud when abroad, had been shaken lightly from her feet at the top of the stairs. perfectly at home, she advanced to the table, and put one of her bare arms around the old man's neck, regardless of the white locks it crushed close down, and replied: "thou flatterer! do i not know beauty is altogether in the eye of the beholder, and that all persons do not see alike? tell me why, knowing the work was to be done, you did not send for me to help you? was it for nothing you made me acquainted with figures until--i have your authority for the saying--i might have stood for professor of mathematics in the best of the alexandrian schools? do not shake your head at me--or"-- with the new idea all alight in her face, she ran around the table, and caught up one of the diagrams. "ah, it is as i thought, father! the work i love best, and can do best! whose is the nativity? not mine, i know; for i was born in the glad time when venus ruled the year. anael, her angel, held his wings over me against this very wry-faced, snow-chilled saturn, whom i am so glad to see in the seventh house, which is the house of woe. whose the nativity, i say?" "nay, child--pretty child, and wilful--you have a trick of getting my secrets from me. i sometimes think i am in thy hands no more than tawdry lace just washed and being wrung preparatory to hanging in the air from thy lattice. it is well for you to know there are some things out of your reach--for the time at least." "that is saying you will tell me." "yes--some day." "then i will be patient." seeing him become thoughtful, and look abstractedly out of the window, she laid the diagram down, went back, and again put her arm around his neck. "i did not come to interrupt you, father, but to learn two things, and run away." "you begin like a rhetorician. what subdivisions lie under those two things? speak!" "thank you," she replied, quickly. "first, syama told me you were at some particular task, and i wanted to know if i could help you." "dear heart!" he said, tenderly. "next--and this is all--i did not want you to forget we are to go up the bosphorus this afternoon--up to therapia, and possibly to the sea." "you wish to go?" he asked. "i dreamt of it all night." "then we will; and to prove i did not forget, the boatmen have their orders already. we go to the landing directly after noon." "not too soon," she answered, laughing. "i have to dress, and make myself gorgeous as an empress. the day is soft and kind, and there will be many people on the water, where i am already known quite as well as here in the city as the daughter of the prince of india." he replied with an air of pride: "thou art good enough for an emperor." "then i may go and get ready." she withdrew her arm, kissed him, and started to the door, but returned, with a troubled look. "one thing more, father." he was recovering his work, but stopped, and gave her ear. "what is it?" "you have said, good father, that as my studies were too confining, it would be well if i took the air every day in my sedan. so, sometimes with syama, sometimes with nilo, i had the men carry me along the wall in front of the bucoleon. the view over the sea toward mt. ida is there very beautiful; and if i look to the landward side, right at my feet are the terraced gardens of the palace. nowhere do the winds seem sweeter to me. for their more perfect enjoyment i have at moments alighted from the chair, and walked; always avoiding acquaintances new and old. the people appear to understand my preference, and respect it. of late, however, one person--hardly a man--has followed me, and stopped near by when i stopped; he has even persisted in attempts to speak to me. to avoid him, i went to the hippodrome yesterday, and taking seat in front of the small obelisks in that quarter, was delighted with the exhibition of the horsemen. just when the entertainment was at its height, and most interesting, the person of whom i am speaking came and sat on the same bench with me. i arose at once. it is very annoying, father. what shall i do?" the prince did not answer immediately, and when he did, it was to ask, suggestively: "you say he is young?" "yes." "his dress?" "he seems to be fond of high colors." "you asked no question concerning him?" "no. whom could i ask?" again the prince reflected. outwardly he was unconcerned; yet his blood was more than warm--the blood of pride which, as every one knows, is easily started, and can go hissing hot. he did not wish her to think of the affair too much; therefore his air of indifference; nevertheless it awoke a new train of thought in him. if one were to insult this second lael of his love, what could he do? the idea of appeal to a magistrate was irritating. were he to assume punishment of the insolence, from whom could he hope justice or sympathy--he, a stranger living a mysterious life? he ran hastily over the resorts at first sight open to him. nilo was an instrument always ready. a word would arouse the forces in that loyal but savage nature, and they were forces subject to cunning which never slept, never wearied, and was never in a hurry--a passionless cunning, like that of the fedavies of the old man of the mountain. it may be thought the prince was magnifying a fancied trouble; but the certainty that sorrow _must_ overtake him for every indulgence of affection was a haunting shadow always attending the most trifling circumstance to set his imagination conjuring calamities. that at such times his first impulse was toward revenge is explicable; the old law, an eye for an eye, was part of his religion; and coupling it with personal pride which a thought could turn into consuming heat, how natural if, while the anticipation was doing its work, his study should be to make the revenge memorable! feeling he was not entirely helpless in the affair, he thought best to be patient awhile, and learn who was the offender; a conclusion followed by a resolution to send uel with the girl next time she went to take the air. "the young men of the city are uncontrolled by respect or veneration," he said, quietly. "the follies they commit are sometimes ludicrous. better things are not to be looked for in a generation given to dress as a chief ambition. and then it may be, o my gul-bahar"--he kissed her as he uttered the endearment--"it may be he of whom you complain does not know who you are. a word may cure him of his bad manners. do not appear to notice him. have eyes for everything in the world but him; that is the virtuous woman's defence against vulgarity and insult under every circumstance. go now, and make ready for the boat. put on your gayest; forget not the last necklace i gave you--and the bracelets--and the girdle with the rubies. the water from the flying oars shall not outflash my little girl. there now--of course we will go to the landing in our chairs." when she disappeared down the stairs, he went back to his work. chapter vii the prince of india meets constantine it is to be remembered now, as very material to our story, that the day the prince of india resolved on the excursion up the bosphorus with lael the exquisite stretch of water separated the territorial possessions of the greek emperor and the sultan of the turks. in the utmost of the once vast roman dominions was "a corner of thrace between the propontis (marmora) and the black sea, about fifty miles in length and thirty in breadth." [footnote: gibbon.] when constantine dragases--he of whom we are writing--ascended the throne, the realm was even more diminished. galata, just across the golden horn, had become a genoese stronghold. scutari, on the asiatic shore almost _vis-a-vis_ with constantinople, was held by a turkish garrison. with small trouble the sultan could have converted the pitiful margin between galata and the cyanean rocks on the black sea. once indeed he set siege to constantinople, but was beaten off, it was said, by the mother of god, who appeared upon the walls of the city, and in person took part in the combat. thereafter he contented himself with a tribute from the emperors manuel and john palaeologus. the relations of the christian and moslem potentates being thus friendly, it can be seen how the princess irene could keep to her palace by therapia and the prince of india plan jaunts along the bosphorus. still there is a point to be borne in mind. ships under christian flags seldom touched at a landing upon the asiatic shore. their captains preferred anchoring in the bays and close under the ivy-covered heights of europe. this was not from detestation or religious intolerance; at bottom there was a doubt of the common honesty of the strong-handed turk amounting to fear. the air was rife with stories of his treachery. the fishermen in the markets harrowed the feelings of their timid customers with tales of surprises, captures, and abductions. occasionally couriers rushed through the gates of constantinople to report red banners in motion, and the sound of clarions and drums, signifying armies of moslems gathering for mysterious purposes. the moslems, on their part, it is but fair to say, were possessed of the same doubts of the christians, and had answers to accusations always ready. the surprises, captures, and abductions were the unlicensed savageries of brigands, of whom they never knew one not a greek; while the music and flags belonged to the militia. six or seven miles above scutari a small river, born in the adjacent highlands, runs merrily down to meet and mingle with the tideless bosphorus. the water it yields is clear and fresh; whence the name of the stream, the sweet waters of asia. on its south side there is a prairie-like stretch, narrow, but green and besprent with an orchard of sycamores old and gnarled, and now much frequented on mohammedan sundays by ladies of the harems, who contrive to make it very gay. no doubt the modest river, and the grass and great trees were just as attractive ages before the first amurath, with an army at his heels, halted there for a night. from that time, however, it was banned by the greeks; and for a reason. on the north bank of the little river there was a fortress known as the white castle. an irregular, many-angled pile of undressed stone heavily merloned on top, its remarkable feature was a tall donjon which a dingy white complexion made visible a great distance, despite its freckling of loopholes and apertures for machine artillery. seeing its military importance, the sultan left a garrison to hold it. he was also pleased to change its name to acce-chisar. the blood-red flag on this donjon was, at the era engaging us, the disenchanter of the greeks; insomuch that in passing the sweet waters of asia they hugged the opposite shore of the bosphorus, crossing themselves and muttering prayers often of irreligious compound. a stork has a nest on the donjon now. as an apparition it is not nearly so suggestive as the turbaned sentinel who used to occupy its outlook. the popular imagination located dungeons under the grim old castle, whence, of the many christian men and women immured there, it was said none ever came forth alive. but for these things, whether true or false, the prince of india cared little. he was not afraid of the turks. if the asiatic shore had been festooned with red flags from the city of the blind down by the isles of the princes to the last of the gray fortresses overlooking the symplegades, it would not have altered a plan of his jot or tittle. enough that lael wanted and needed an outing on the glorious bosphorus. accordingly, shortly after noon two chairs were brought and set down in his house. that is to say, two upright boxes fixed centrally on poles, and differing in nowise from the sedans still the mode of carriage affected by ladies of constantinople unless it might be in their richer appointments. inside, all was silk, lace and cushions; outside, the inlaying of mother of pearl and vari-colored woods was suggestive of modern papier-mache. the entrance was by a door in the front. a window in the door, and lesser ones on the sides, afforded the inmate air and opportunity for speech. not wanting to be seen, she had only to draw the curtains together. in this instance it must be said the decoration of the carriages had been carried to an extreme. soon as the chairs were set down in the house, the prince and lael descended the stairs. the latter was attired in a semi-greek costume, very rich and becoming; to embroidery of gold, she added bracelets, and a necklace of large pearls strung between spheres of gold equally large. a coronet graced her head, and it was so bejewelled that in bright light it seemed some one was sprinkling her with an incessant shower of sparkles. the two took their seats. the carriers, two to each litter, stalwart men, uniformly clad in loose white garments, raised the poles on their shoulders. syama threw the door of the house open, and at a signal from the prince the procession sallied into the street. the crowd, in expectant waiting there, received it in silent wonder. it is due the truth to say now that the common eye was attracted by the appearance of nilo as much as by the rarities wrought in the panelling of the carriages. he strode ten or twelve feet in advance of lael who, in the place of honor, was completely under the prince's observation. the negro's costume was of a king of kash-cush. the hair stood on end in stiff cues, sharply pointed, and held by a chain of silver medals; an immense ring of silver hung from the cartilage of his nose. the neck was defended by a gorget of leather bristling with the fangs and claws of tigers in alternating rows. a robe of scarlet cloth large enough to envelop the man was thrown behind the massive shoulders. the body, black as polished ebony, was naked to the waist, whence a white skirt fell to the knees. the arms and legs were adorned with bracelets and anklets of ivory, while the straps of the heavy sandals were bordered with snail-shells. on the left arm he bore a round shield of rhinoceros hide embossed in brass; in the right hand, a pointless lance. towering high above the heads of the crowd which opened before him with alacrity, the admiration received by the prince's ally and friend was but a well-deserved tribute. "a tiger-hunter!" said one, to a friend at his elbow. "i should call him king of the tiger-hunters," the friend replied. "only a prince of india would carry such a pensioner with him," another remarked. "what a man!" said a woman, half afraid. "an infidel, no doubt," was the answer. "it is not a christian wish, i know," the first added; "still i should like to see him face a lion in the cynegion." "ay, him they call tamerlane, because he is shorn of two toes." the prince, casting a glance of scarce concealed contempt over the throng, sighed, as he muttered, "if now i could meet the emperor!" the exclamation was from his heart. we have seen the idea which lured him to mecca, and brought him to constantinople. in the years since flown, it was held subordinate to his love of lael--subordinate merely. latterly it had revived with much of its original force, and he was now for the first time seriously scheming for an interview with the emperor. no doubt a formal request would have secured the honor; but it was in his view better policy to be sought than seek, and with all his wealth, there was nothing he could so well afford to pay for success as time. in his study, he was continually saying to himself: "it cannot be that the extravagances to which i am going will fail. he will hear of me, or we may meet--then the invitation!--and then i will propose the brotherhood--god help me! but it is for him to invite me. patience, o my soul!" extravagances! the exclamation helps us to an understanding of the style he was carrying before the public--the silvering on his own black velvet robe, the jewels in lael's coronet bursting with light, the gorgeous finish of the sedans, the barbaric costuming of nilo. they were not significant of his taste. except for what they might bring him, he did not care for jewels. and as for lael, he would have loved her for her name's sake, and her honest, untarnished jewish blood. let us believe so at least until we find otherwise. nilo, by this time familiar with every quarter of the city, was told the boat was in readiness for the party at a landing near the grand gate of blacherne; to make which, it being on the golden horn well up in the northwest, he must turn the hill back of the prince's residence, and pursue one of the streets running parallel with the wall. thither he accordingly bent his steps, followed by the porters of the sedans, and an increasing but respectful assemblage of curious citizens. scarcely had the progress begun before the prince, watching through his front window, saw a man approach the side of lael's chair, and peer into it. his wit served him well and instantly. "'tis he--the insolent!--close up!" he cried, to his porters. the intruder at the sound of his voice looked at him once, then disappeared in the throng. he was young, handsome, showily dressed, and beyond question the person of whom lael had complained. though smarting under the insult, and a suspicion, suddenly engendered, of a watch kept over his house, the prince concluded the stranger was of noble connection, and that the warrant for his boldness was referable to family influence. while his subtle mind was pothering with schemes of detection, the affair presented itself in another light, and he laughed at his own dulness. "'tis nothing," he reflected--"nothing! the boy is in love, and allowing his passion to make a fool of him. i have only to see my pretty gul-bahar does not return the madness." deciding then to make inquiry and satisfy himself who the young admirer was, he dismissed the subject. presently nilo turned into a street of some width compared with the generality of thoroughfares in the city. on the left hand were shops and pretentious houses; on the right, towered the harbor wall. the people attending the procession increased instead of dispersing; but as they continued in good nature, they gave him no concern. their comments amongst themselves were about equally divided between nilo and lael. "beautiful, beautiful!" one said, catching sight of the latter through the windows of the chair. "who is she?" "a daughter of a prince of india." "and the prince--who is he?" "ask some one who knows. there he is in the second chair." once a woman went close to lael, snatched a look, and stepped back, with clasped hands, crying: "'tis the sweet mother herself!" without other incident, the procession passed the gate of st. peter, and was nearing that of blacherne, when a flourish of trumpets announced a counter pageant coming down the street from the opposite direction. a man near by shouted: "the emperor! the emperor!" another seconded him. "long live the good constantine!" the words were hardly uttered before they were answered: "the _azymite_! the _azymite_! down with the betrayer of christ!" in less than a minute the prince was being borne along in the midst of two howling factions. scarcely knowing whether to take lael into a house or go on, he tried to communicate with nilo; but in unconsciousness of the tempest so suddenly risen, that grandson of a king marched on in unremitted stateliness, until directly a band of trumpeters in magnificent livery confronted him. the astonishment was mutual. nilo halted, dropping his headless lance in defence; the trumpeters quit blowing, and, opening order, filed hastily by him, their faces saying with a distinctness words could not have helped: "a son of satan! beware!" the chairs were also brought to a halt. thereupon the people, now a mob apparently ready to tear each other into bloody ribbons, refused to give way to the trumpeters. nilo finally comprehending the situation returned to lael just as the prince on foot came up to her. she was pale and trembling with fear. the deadlock between the musicians and the mob was brought to an end by the appearance of a detachment of the imperial guard. a mounted officer, javelin in hand, rode up and shouted: "the emperor! make way for the emperor!" while he was speaking, the horsemen behind him came on steadily. there was irresistible persuasion in the glitter of their spears; besides it was matter of universal knowledge that the steel panoply of each rider concealed a mercenary foreigner who was never so happy as when riding over a greek. one yell louder and more defiant than any yet uttered--"the azymite, the azymite!"--and the mob broke and fled. at a signal from the officer, the guards, as they came on, opened right and left of the chairs, and passed them with scarce notice. a few words from the prince to lael dispelled her fears. "it is an every-day affair," he said, lightly; "an amusement of the people, the roman factionists against the greek. nobody is ever hurt, except in howling he opens his jaws too wide." the levity was affected, but mastering the irritation he really felt, the prince was about to make acknowledgment to the officer for his timely intervention, when another personage appeared, claiming his attention. indeed his heart began beating unusually fast, and in spite of himself his face flushed--he knew he had his wish--the meeting with constantine was come! the last emperor of the byzantines sat in an open chair borne upon the shoulders of eight carriers in striking livery--a handsome man in his forty-sixth year, though apparently not more than thirty-eight or forty. his costume was that of basileus, which was a religious dignity. a close-fitting cap of red velvet covered his head, with a knot of purple silk triply divided on the top; while a pliable circlet of golden scales, clearing the brows, held the cap securely in place. on each scale a ruby of great size sparkled in solitaire setting. the circlet was further provided with four strings of pearls, two by each ear, dangling well down below in front of the shoulders. a loose drab robe or gown, drawn close at the waist, clothed him, neck, arms, body and nether limbs, answering excellently as ground for a cope the color of the cap, divided before and behind into embroidered squares defined by rows of pearls. boots of purple leather, also embroidered, gave finish to the costume. instead of sword or truncheon, he carried a plain ivory crucifix. the people staring at him from the doors and windows knew he was going to sancta sophia intent on some religious service. while the emperor was thus borne down upon the prince, his dark eyes, kindly looking, glanced from nilo to lael, and finally came to rest full upon the face of the master. the officer returned to him. a few paces off, the imperial chair stopped, and a conversation ensued, during which a number of high officials who were of the sovereign's suite on foot closed up in position to separate their lord from a mounted rear guard. the prince of india kept his mind perfectly. having exchanged glances with the emperor, he was satisfied an impression was made strong enough to pique curiosity, and at the same time fix him in the royal memory. with a quick sense of the proprieties, he thereupon addressed himself to moving his carriages to the left, that when the conference with the officers was concluded the emperor might have the right of way with the least possible obstruction. presently the acolyte--such the officer proved to be--approached the prince. "his imperial majesty," he said, courteously, "would be pleased could i inform him the name and title of the stranger whose progress he has been so unfortunate as to interrupt." the prince answered with dignity: "i thank you, noble sir, for the fair terms in which you couch the inquiry, not less than the rescue i and my daughter owe you from the mob." the acolyte bowed. "and not to keep his imperial majesty waiting," the prince continued, "return him the compliments of a prince of india, at present a resident of this royal and ancient capital. say also it will give me happiness far beyond the power of words when i am permitted to salute him, and render the veneration and court to which his character and place amongst the rulers of the earth entitle him." at the conclusion of the complex, though courtierly reply, the speaker walked two steps forward, faced the emperor, and touched the ground with his palms, and rising, carried them to his forehead. the answer duly delivered, the emperor responded to the salaam with a bow and another message. "his imperial majesty," the acolyte said, "is pleased at meeting the prince of india. he was not aware he had a guest of such distinction in his capital. he desires to know the place of residence of his noble friend, that he may communicate with him, and make amends for the hindrance which has overtaken him to-day." the prince gave his address, and the interview ended. it is of course the reader's privilege to pass judgment upon the incidents of this rencounter; at least one of the parties to it was greatly pleased, for he knew the coveted invitation would speedily follow. while the emperor was borne past, lael received his notice more especially than her guardian; when they were out of hearing, he called the acolyte to his side. "didst thou observe the young person yonder?" he asked. "the coronet she wears certifies the prince of india to be vastly rich," the other answered. "yes, the princes of india, if we may judge by common report, are all rich; wherefore i thought not of that, but rather of the beauty of his daughter. she reminded me of the madonna on the panagia in the transept of our church at blacherne." chapter viii racing with a storm one who has seen the boats in which fishermen now work the eddies and still waters of the bosphorus will not require a description of the vessel the prince and lael stepped into when they arrived at the grand gate of blacherne. he need only be told that instead of being pitch-black outside and in, it was white, except the gunwale which was freshly gilt. the untravelled reader, however, must imagine a long narrow craft, upturned at both ends, graceful in every line, and constructed for speed and beauty. well aft there was a box without cover, luxuriously cushioned, lined with chocolate velvet, and wide enough to seat two persons comfortably; behind it, a decked space for a servant, pilot or guard. this arrangement left all forward for the rowers, each handling two oars. ten rowers, trained, stout, and clad in white headkerchiefs, shirts and trousers of the same hue, and greek jackets of brilliant scarlet, profusely figured over with yellow braid, sat stolidly, blades in hand and ready dipped, when the passengers took their places, the prince and lael in the box, and nilo behind them as guard. the vessel was too light to permit a ceremonious reception. in front of the party, on the northern shore of the famous harbor, were the heights of pera. the ravines and grass-green benches into which they were broken, with here and there a garden hut enclosed in a patch of filbert bushes--for pera was not then the city it now is--were of no interest to the prince; dropping his eyes to the water, they took in a medley of shipping, then involuntarily turned to the cold gray face of the wall he was leaving. and while seeing in vivid recollection the benignant countenance of constantine bent upon him from the chair in the street, he thought of the horoscope he had spent the night in taking and the forenoon in calculating. with a darkened brow, he gave the word, and the boat was pushed off and presently seeking the broader channel of the bosphorus. the day was delightful. a breeze danced merrily over the surface of the water. soft white summer clouds hung so sleepily in the southwest they scarce suggested motion. seeing the color deepen in lael's cheeks, and listening to her questions, he surrendered himself to the pleasures of the situation, not the least being the admiration she attracted. by ships at anchor, and through lesser craft of every variety they sped, followed by exclamations frequently outspoken: "who is she? who can she be?" thus pursued, they flew past the gate of st. peter, turned the point of galata, and left the fish market port behind; proceeding then in parallelism with the north shore, they glided under the great round tower so tall and up so far overhead it seemed a part of the sky. off tophane, they were in the bosphorus, with scutari at their right, and point serail at their backs. viewed from the harbor on the sea, the old historic point leaves upon the well informed an impression that in a day long gone, yielding to a spasm of justice, asia cast it off into the waves. its beauty is circean. almost from the beginning it has been the chosen place in which men ran rounds gay and grave, virtuous and wanton, foolish and philosophic, brave and cowardly--where love, hate, jealousy, avarice, ambition and envy have delighted to burn their lights before heaven--where, possibly with one exception, providence has more frequently come nearer lifting its veil than in any other spot of earth. again and again, the prince, loth to quit the view, turned and refilled his eyes with sancta sophia, of which, from his position, the wall at the water's edge, the lesser churches of the virgin hodegetria and st. irene, and the topmost sections far extending of the palaces of bucoleon seemed but foundations. the edifice, as he saw it then, depended on itself for effect, the turk having not yet, in sign of mohammedan conversion, broken the line of its marvellous dome with minarets. at length he set about telling stories of the point. off the site of the present palace of dolma-batchi he told of euphrosyne, the daughter of the empress irene; and seeing how the sorrowful fortune of the beautiful child engaged lael's sympathies, he became interested as a narrator, and failed to notice the unusual warmth tempering the air about tchiragan. neither did he observe that the northern sky, before so clear and blue, was whitening with haze. to avoid the current running past arnoot-kouy, the rowers crossed to the asiatic side under the promontory of candilli. other boats thronged the charming expanse; but as most of them were of a humbler class sporting one rower, the prince's, with its liveried ten, was a surpassing attraction. sometimes the strangers, to gratify their curiosity, drew quite near, but always without affronting him; knowing the homage was to lael, he was happy when it was effusively rendered. his progress was most satisfactory until he rounded candilli. then a flock of small boats came down upon him pell-mell, the rowers pulling their uttermost, the passengers in panic. the urgency impelling them was equally recognized by the ships and larger vessels out in the channel. anchors were going down, sails furling, and oars drawing in. above them, moreover, much beyond their usual levels of flight troops of gulls were circling on rapid wings screaming excitedly. the prince had reached the part of greatest interest in the story he was telling--how the cruel and remorseless emperor michel, determined to wed the innocent and helpless euphrosyne, shamelessly cheated the church and cajoled the senate--when nilo touched his shoulder, and awoke him to the situation. a glance over the water--another at the sky--and he comprehended danger of some kind was impending. at the same moment lael commenced shivering and complaining of cold. the air had undergone a sudden change. presently nilo's red cloak was sheltering her. the boat was in position to bring everything into view, and he spoke to the rowers: "a storm is rising." they ceased work, and looked over their shoulders, each for himself. "a blow from the sea, and it comes fast. what we shall do is for my lord to say," one of them returned. the prince grew anxious for lael. what was done must be for her--he had no thought else. a cloud was forming over the whole northeastern quarter of the sky, along the horizon black, overhead a vast gray wave, in its heart copper-hued, seething, interworking, now a distended sail, now a sail bursted; and the wind could be heard whipping the shreds into fleece, and whirling them a confusion of vaporous banners. yet glassy, the water reflected the tint of the cloud. the hush holding it was like the drawn breath of a victim waiting the first turn of the torturous wheel. the asiatic shore offered the prince a long stretch, and he persisted in coasting it until the donjon of the white castle--that terror to christians--arrested his eye. there were houses much nearer, some of them actually overhanging the water; but the donjon seemed specially inviting; at all events, he coolly reflected, if the governor of the castle denied him refuge, the little river near by known as the sweet waters of asia would receive him, and getting under its bank, he might hope to escape the fury of the wind and waves. he shouted resolutely: "to the white castle! make it before the wind strikes, my men, and i will double your hire." "we may make it," the rower answered, somewhat sullenly, "but"-- "what?" asked the prince. "the devil has his lodgings there. many men have gone into its accursed gates on errands of peace, and never been heard of again." the prince laughed. "we lose time--forward! if there be a fiend in the castle, i promise you he is not waiting for us." the twenty oars fell as one, and the boat jumped like a steed under a stab of the spur. thus boldly the race with the storm was begun. the judgment of the challenger, assuming the prince to be such, may be questioned. the river was the goal. could he reach it before the wind descended in dangerous force?--that was the very point of contest. the chances, it is to be remembered next, were not of a kind to admit weighing with any approach to certainty; it was difficult even to marshal them for consideration. the distance was somewhat less than three-quarters of a mile; on the other part, the competing cloud was wrestling with the mountain height of alem daghy, about four miles away. the dead calm was an advantage; unfortunately it was more than offset by the velocity of the current which, though not so strong by the littoral of candilli as under the opposite bluffs of roumeli-hissar, was still a serious opposing force. the boatmen were skilful, and could be relied upon to pull loyally; for, passing the reward offered in the event of their winning, the dangers of failure were to them alike. treating the contest as a race, with the storm and the boat as competitors, the prince was not without chances of success. but whatever the outcome of the venture, lael would be put to discomfort. his care of her was so habitually marked by tender solicitude one cannot avoid wondering at him now. after all he may have judged the affair more closely than at first appears. the sides of the boat were low, but danger from that cause might be obviated by the skill of the rowers; and then alem daghy was not a trifling obstacle in the path of the gale. it might be trusted to hold the cloud awhile; after which a time would be required by the wind to travel the miles intervening. certainly it had been more prudent to make the shore, and seek refuge in one of the houses there. but the retort of the spirited jew of that day, as in this, was a contemptuous refusal of assistance, and the degree to which this son of israel was governed by the eternal resentment can be best appreciated by recalling the number of his days on earth. at the first response to the vigorous pull of the oarsmen, lael drew the red cloak over her face, and laid her head against the prince. he put his arm around her, and seeing nothing and saying nothing, she trusted in him. the rowers, pulling with strength from the start, gradually quickened the stroke, and were presently in perfect harmony of action. a short sough accompanied each dip of the blades; an expiration, like that of the woodman striking a blow with his axe, announced the movement completed. the cords of their brawny necks played fast and free; the perspiration ran down their faces like rain upon glass. their teeth clinched. they turned neither right nor left; but with their straining eyes fixed upon him, by his looks they judged both their own well-doing and the progress of their competitor. seeing the boat pointed directly toward the castle, the prince watched the cloud. occasionally he commended the rowers. "well done, my men!--hold to that, and we will win!" the unusual brightness of his eyes alone betrayed excitement. once he looked over the yet quiet upper field of water. his was the only vessel in motion. even the great ships were lying to. no--there was another small boat like his own coming down along the asiatic shore as if to meet him. its position appeared about as far above the mouth of the river as his was below it; and its three or five rowers were plainly doing their best. with grim pleasure, he accepted the stranger as another competitor in the race. the friendly heights of alem, seen from the bosphorus, are one great forest always beautifully green. even as the prince looked at them, they lost color, as if a hand out of the cloud had suddenly dropped a curtain of white gauze over them. he glanced back over the course, then forward. the donjon was showing the loopholes that pitted its southern face. excellent as the speed had been, more was required. half the distance remained to be overcome--and the enemy not four miles away. "faster, men!" he called out. "the gust has broken from the mountain. i hear its roaring." they turned involuntarily, and with a look measured the space yet to be covered, the distance of the foe, and the rate at which he was coming. nor less did they measure the danger. they too heard its warning, the muffled roar as of rocks and trees snatched up and grinding to atoms in the inner coils of the cloud. "it is not a blow," one said, speaking quick, "but a"-- "storm." the word was the prince's. "yes, my lord." just then the water by the boat was rippled by a breath, purring, timorous, but icy. the effect on the oarsmen was stronger than any word from the master could have been. they finished a pull long and united; then while the oars swung forward taking reach for another, they all arose to their feet, paused a moment, dipped the blades deeper, gave vent to a cry so continuous it sounded like a wail, and at the same time sunk back into their seats, pulling as they fell. this was their ultimate exertion. a jet of water spurted from the foot of the sharp bow, and the bubbles and oar eddies flew behind indistinguishably. "well done!" said the prince, his eyes glowing. thenceforward the men continued to rise at the end of a stroke, and fall as they commenced delivery of another. their action was quick, steady, machine-like; they gripped the water deep, and made no slips; with a thought of the exhilaration an eagle must feel when swooping from his eyrie, the prince looked at the cloud defiantly as a challenger might. each moment the donjon loomed up more plainly. he saw now, not merely the windows and loopholes, but the joinery of the stones in their courses. suddenly he beheld another wonder--an army of men mounted and galloping along the river bank toward the castle. the array stretched back into the woods. in its van were two flags borne side by side, one green, the other red. both were surrounded by a troop in bright armor. no need for him to ask to whom they belonged. they told him of mecca and mahomet--on the red, he doubted not seeing the old ottomanic symbols, in their meaning poetic, in their simplicity beautiful as any ever appropriated for martial purposes. the riders were turks. but why the green flag? where it went somebody more than the chief of a sanjak, more than the governor of a castle, or even a province, led the way. the number trailing after the flags was scarcely less mysterious. they were too many to be of the garrison; and then the battlements of the castle were lined with men also under arms. not daring to speak of this new apparition lest his oarsmen might take alarm, the prince smiled, thinking of another party to the race--a fourth competitor. he sought the opposing boat next. it had made good time. there were five oarsmen in it; and, like his own, they were rising and falling with each stroke. in the passengers' place, he could make out two persons whom he took to be women. a roll of thunder from the cloud startled the crew. clear, angry, majestic, it filled the mighty gorge of the bosphorus. under the sound the water seemed to shrink away. lael looked out from her hiding, but as quickly drew back, crowding closer to the prince. to calm her he said, lightly, "fear nothing, o my gul bahar! a pretty race we are having with the cloud yonder; we are winning, and it is not pleased. there is no danger." she answered by doubling the folds of the gown about her head. steadily, lithely, and with never an error the rowers drove through the waves--steadily, and in exact time, their cry arose cadencing each stroke. they did their part truly. well might the master cry them, "good, good." but all the while the wind was tugging mightily at its cloudy car; every instant the rattle of its wheels sounded nearer. the trees on the hills behind the castle were bending and bowing; and not merely around the boat, but far as could be seen the surface of the ancient channel was a-shirr and a-shatter under beating of advance gusts. and now the mouth of the sweet waters, shallowed by a wide extended osier bank, came into view; and the castle was visible from base to upper merlon, the donjon, in relief against the blackened sky, rising more ghostly than ever. and right at hand were the flags, and the riders galloping with them. and there, coming bravely in, was the competing boat. over toward roumeli-hissar the sea birds congregated in noisy flocks, alarmed at the long line of foam the wind was whisking down the current. behind the foam, the world seemed dissolving into spray. then the boats were seen from the castle, and a company of soldiers ran out and down the bank. a noise like the rushing of a river sounded directly overhead. the wind struck the castle, and in the thick of the mists and flying leaves hurled at it, the donjon disappeared. "we win, we win, my men!" the prince shouted. "courage--good spirit--brave work--treble wages! wine and wassail to-morrow!" the boat, with the last word, shot into the little river, and up to the landing of the castle just as the baffled wind burst over the refuge. and simultaneously the van of the army galloped under the walls and the competing boat arrived. chapter ix in the white castle the landing was in possession of dark-faced, heavily bearded men, with white turbans, baggy trousers, gray and gathered at the ankles, and arms of every kind, bows, javelins, and cimeters. the prince, stepping from his boat, recognized them as turkish soldiers. he had hardly time to make the inspection, brief as it was, before an officer, distinguished by a turban, kettle-shaped and elaborately infolded, approached him. "you will go with me to the castle," he said. the official's tone and manner were imperative. suppressing his displeasure, the prince replied, with dignity: "the governor is courteous. return to him with my thanks, and say that when i decided to come on in the face of the storm, i made no doubt of his giving me shelter until it would be safe to resume my journey. i fear, however, his accommodations will be overtaxed; and since the river is protected from the wind, it would be more agreeable if he would permit me to remain here." the response betrayed no improvement in manner: "my order is to bring you to the castle." some of the boatmen at this raised their eyes and hands toward heaven; others crossed themselves, and, like men taking leave of hope, cried out, "o holy mother of god!" yet the prince restrained himself. he saw contention would be useless, and said, to quiet the rowers: "i will go with you. the governor will be reasonable. we are unfortunates blown to his hands by a tempest, and to make us prisoners under such circumstances would be an abuse of one of the first and most sacred laws of the prophet. the order did not comprehend my men; they may remain here." lael heard all this, her face white with fear. the conversation was in the greek tongue. at mention of the law, the turk cast a contemptuous look at the prince, much as to say, dog of an unbeliever, what dost thou with a saying of the prophet? then dropping his eyes to lael and the boatmen, he answered in disdain of argument or explanation: "you--they--all must go." with that, he turned to the occupants of the other boat, and raising his voice the better to be heard, for the howling of the wind was very great, he called to them: "come out." they were a woman in rich attire, but closely veiled, and a companion at whom he gazed with astonishment. the costume of the latter perplexed him; indeed, not until that person, in obedience to the order, erected himself to his full stature upon the landing, was he assured of his sex. they were the princess irene and sergius the monk. the conversation between them in the homeric palace has only to be recalled to account for their presence. departing from therapia at noon, according to the custom of boatmen wishing to pass from the upper bosphorus, they had been carried obliquely across toward the asiatic shore where the current, because of its greater regularity, is supposed to facilitate descent. when the storm began to fill the space above alem daghy, they were in the usual course; and then the question that had been put to the prince of india was presented to the princess irene. would she land in asia or recross to europe? the general greek distrust of the turks belonged to her. from infancy she had been horrified with stories of women prisoners in their hands. she preferred making roumeli-hissar; but the boatmen protested it was too late; they said the little river by the white castle was open, and they could reach it before the storm; and trusting in their better judgment, she submitted to them. sergius, on the landing, pushed the cowl back, and was about to speak, but the wind caught his hair, tossing the long locks into tangle. seeing him thus in a manner blinded, the princess took up the speech. drawing the veil aside, she addressed the officer: "art thou the governor of the castle?" "no." "are we to be held guests or prisoners?" "that is not for me to say." "carry thou then a message to him who may be the governor. tell him i am the princess irene, by birth near akin to constantine, emperor of the greeks and romans; that, admitting this soil is lawfully the property of his master the sultan, i have not invaded it, but am here in search of temporary refuge. tell him if i go to his castle a prisoner, he must answer for the trespass to my royal kinsman, who will not fail to demand reparation; on the other hand, if i become his guest, it must be upon condition that i shall be free to depart as i came, with my friend and my people, the instant the wind and waves subside. yes, and the further condition, that he wait upon me as becomes my station, and personally offer such hospitality as his castle affords. i shall receive his reply here." the officer, uncouth though he was, listened with astonishment not in the least disguised; and it was not merely the speech which impressed him, nor yet the spirit with which it was given; the spell was in the unveiled face. never in his best dream of the perfected moslem paradise had he seen loveliness to compare with it. he stood staring at her. "go," she repeated. "there will be rain presently." "who am i to say thou art?" he asked. "the princess irene, kinswoman of the emperor constantine." the officer made a low salaam to her, and walked hurriedly off to the castle. his soldiers stood in respectful remove from the prisoners--such the refugees must for the present be considered--leaving them grouped in close vicinity, the prince and the monk ashore, the princess and lael seated in their boats. calamity is a rough master of ceremonies; it does not take its victims by the hand, and name them in words, but bids them look to each other for help. and that was precisely what the two parties now did. unsophisticated, and backward through inexperience, sergius was nevertheless conscious of the embarrassing plight of the princess. he had also a man's quick sense of the uselessness of resistance, except in the way of protest. to measure the stranger's probable influence with the turks, he looked first at the prince, and was not, it must be said, rewarded with a return on which to found hope or encouragement. the small, stoop-shouldered old man, with a great white beard, appeared respectable and well-to-do in his black velvet cap and pelisse; his eyes were very bright, and his cheeks hectic with resentment at the annoyance he was undergoing; but that he could help out of the difficulty appeared absurd. having by this time rescued his hair from the wind, and secured it under his cowl, he looked next at lael. his first thought was of the unfitness of her costume for an outing in a boat under the quietest of skies. a glance at the princess, however, allayed the criticism; while the display of jewelry was less conspicuous, her habit was quite as rich and unsubstantial. it dawned upon him then that custom had something to do with the attire of greek women thus upon the water. that moment lael glanced up at him, and he saw how childlike her face was, and lovely despite the anxiety and fear with which it was overcast. he became interested in her at once. the monk's judgment of the little old man was unjust. that master of subtlety had in mind run forward of the situation, and was already providing for its consequences. he shared the surprise of the turk when the princess raised her veil. overhearing then her message to the governor, delivered in a manner calm, self-possessed, courageous, dignified, and withal adroit, he resolved to place lael under her protection. "princess," he said, doffing his cap unmindful of the wind, and advancing to the side of her boat, "i crave audience of you, and in excuse for my unceremoniousness, plead community in misfortune, and a desire to make my daughter here safe as can be." she surveyed him from head to foot; then turned her eyes toward lael, sight of whom speedily exorcised the suspicion which for the instant held her hesitant. "i acknowledge the obligation imposed by the situation." she replied; "and being a christian as well as a woman, i cannot without reason justifiable in sight of heaven deny the help you ask. but, good sir, first tell me your name and country." "i am a prince of india exercising a traveller's privilege of sojourning in the imperial city." "the answer is well given; and if hereafter you return to this interview, o prince, i beg you will not lay my inquiry to common curiosity." "fear not," the prince answered; "for i learned long ago that in the laws prescribed for right doing prudence is a primary virtue; and making present application of the principle, i suggest, if it please you to continue a discourse which must be necessarily brief, that we do so in some other tongue than greek." "be it in latin then," she said, with a quick glance at the soldiers, and observing his bow of acquiescence, continued, "thy reverend beard, o prince, and respectable appearance, are warranties of a wisdom greater than i can ever attain; wherefore pray tell me how i, a feeble woman, who may not be able to release herself from these robbers, remorseless from religious prejudice, can be of assistance to thy daughter, now my younger sister in affliction." she accompanied the speech with a look at lael so kind and tender it could not be misinterpreted. "most fair and gentle princess, i will straight to the matter. out on the water, midway this and the point yonder, when too late for me to change direction or stay my rowers, i saw a body of horsemen, whom i judged to be soldiers, moving hurriedly down the river bank toward the castle. a band richly caparisoned, carrying two flags, one green, the other red, moved at their head. the former, you may know, has a religious signification, and is seldom seen in the field except a person of high rank be present. it is my opinion, therefore, that our arrest has some reference to the arrival of such a personage. in confirmation you may yet hear the musical flourish in his honor." "i hear drums and trumpets," she replied, "and admit the surmise an ingenious accounting for an act otherwise unaccountable." "nay, princess, with respect to thyself at least, call it a deed intolerable, and loud with provocation." "from your speech, o prince, i infer familiarity with these faithless barbarians. perhaps you can make your knowledge of them so far serviceable as to tell me the great man's name." "yes, i have had somewhat to do with turks; yet i cannot venture the name, rank or purpose of the newcomer. pursuing the argument, however, if my conjecture be true, then the message borne the governor, though spirited, and most happily accordant with your high degree, will not accomplish your release, simply because the reason of the capture in the first place must remain a reason for detaining you in the next. in brief, you may anticipate rejection of the protest." "what, think you they will hold me prisoner?" "they are crafty." "they dare not!" and the princess' cheek reddened with indignation. "my kinsman is not powerless--and even the great amurath"-- "forgive me, i pray; but there was never mantle to cover so many crimes as the conveniences kings call 'reasons of state.'" she looked vaguely up the river which the tempest was covering with promiscuous air-blown drifting; but recovering, she said: "it is for me to pray pardon, prince. i detain you." "not at all," he answered. "i have to remark next, if my conjecture prove correct, a lady of imperial rank might find herself ill at ease and solitary in a hold like this castle, which, speaking by report, is now kept to serve some design of war to come more particularly than domestic or social life." the imagination of the princess caught the idea eagerly, and, becoming active, presented a picture of a moslem lair without women or apartments for women. her mind filled with alarm. "oh, that i could recall the message!" she exclaimed. "i should not have tempted the governor by offering to become his guest upon any condition." "nay, do not accuse yourself. the decision was brave and excellent in every view," he said, perceiving his purpose in such fair way. "for see--the storm increases in strength; yonder"--he pointed toward alem daghy--"the rain comes. not by thy choice, o princess, but the will of god, thou art here!" he spoke impressively, and she bent her head, and crossed herself twice. "a sad plight truly," he continued. "fortunately it may be in a measure relieved. here is my daughter, lael by name. the years have scarcely outrun her childhood. more at mercy than thyself, because without rank to make the oppressor careful, or an imperial kinsman to revenge a wrong done her, she is subject to whatever threatens you--a cell in this infidel stronghold, ruffians for attendants, discomforts to cast her into fever, separation from me to keep her afraid. why not suffer her to go with you? she can serve as tirewoman or companion. in villany the boldest often hesitate when two are to be overcome." the speech was effective. "o prince, i have not words to express my gratitude. i am thy debtor. heaven may have brought this crisis, but it has not altogether deserted me--and in good time! see--my messenger, with a following! let thy daughter come, and sit with me now--and do thou stand by to lend me of thy wisdom in case appeal to it become necessary. quick! nay, prince, sergius is young and strong. permit him to bring the child to me." the monk made haste. drawing the boat close to the shore, he gave lael his strong hand. directly she was delivered to the princess, and seated beside her. "now they may come!" thus the princess acknowledged the strength derivable from companionship. the result was perceptible in her voice once more clear, and her face actually sparkling with confidence and courage. then, drawn together in one group, the refugees awaited the officer. "the governor is coming," that worthy said, saluting the princess. looking toward the castle, the expectants beheld a score or more men issuing from the gate on foot. they were all in armor, and each complemented the buckler on his arm with a lance from which a colored pennon blew out straight and stiff as a panel. one walked in front singly, and immediately the prince and princess fixed upon him as the governor, and kept him in eye curiously and anxiously. that instant rain in large drops began to fall. the governor appeared to notice the premonition, for looking at the angry sky he halted, and beckoned to his followers, several of whom ran to him, received an order, and then hastily returned to the castle. he came on in quickened gait. here the prince, with his greater experience, noticed a point which escaped his associates; and that was the extraordinary homage paid the stranger. at the landing the officer and soldiers would have prostrated themselves, but with an imperious gesture, he declined the salutation. the observers, it may be well believed, viewed the man afar with interest; when near, they scanned him as persons under arraignment study the judge, that from his appearance they may glean something of his disposition. he was above the average height of men, slender, and in armor--the armor of the east, adapted in every point to climate and light service. a cope or hood, intricately woven of delicate steel wire, and close enough to refuse an arrow or the point of a dagger, defended head, throat, neck, and shoulders, while open at the face; a coat, of the same artistic mail, beginning under the hood, followed closely the contour of the body, terminating just above the knees as a skirt. amongst teutonic and english knights, on account of its comparative lightness, it would have been distinguished from an old-fashioned hauberk, and called _haubergeon_. a sleeveless _surcoat_ of velvet, plain green in color, overlaid the mail without a crease or wrinkle, except at the edge of the skirt. _chausses_, or leggins, also of steel, clothed the nether limbs, ending in shoes of thin lateral scales sharply pointed at the toes. a slight convexity on top, and the bright gold-gilt band by which, with regular interlacement, the cope was attached, gave the cap surmounting the head a likeness to a crown. in style this armor was common. the preference eastern cavaliers showed it may have been due in part at least to the fact that when turned out by a master armorer, after years of painstaking, it left the wearer his natural graces of person. such certainly was the case here. the further equipment of the man admits easy imagining. there were the gauntlets of steel, articulated for the fingers and thumbs; a broad flexible belt of burnished gold scales, intended for the cimeter, fell from the waist diagonally to the left hip; light spurs graced the heels; a dagger, sparkling with jewels, was his sole weapon, and it served principally to denote the peacefulness of his errand. as there was nothing about him to rattle or clank his steps were noiseless, and his movements agile and easy. these martial points were naturally of chief attraction to the prince of india, whose vast acquaintanceship with heroes and famous warriors made comparison a habit. on her side, the princess, to whom accoutrement and manner were mere accessories, pleasing or otherwise, and subordinate, sought the stranger's face. she saw brown eyes, not very large, but exceedingly bright, quick, sharp, flying from object to object with flashes of bold inquiry, and quitting them as instantly; a round forehead on brows high-arched; a nose with the curvature of a roman's; mouth deep-cornered, full-lipped, and somewhat imperfectly mustached and bearded; clear, though sunburned complexion--in brief, a countenance haughty, handsome, refined, imperious, telling in every line of exceptional birth, royal usages, ambition, courage, passion, and confidence. most amazing, however, the stranger appeared yet a youth. surprised, hardly knowing whether to be pleased or alarmed, yet attracted, she kept the face in steady gaze. halting when a few steps from the group, the stranger looked at them as if seeking one in especial. "have a care, o princess! this is not the governor, but he of whom i spoke--the great man." the warning was from the prince of india and in latin. as if to thank him for a service done--possibly for identifying the person he sought--the subject of the warning slightly bowed to him, then dropped his eyes to the princess. a light blown out does not vanish more instantly than his expression changed. wonder--incredulity--astonishment--admiration chased each other over his face in succession. calling them emotions, each declared itself with absolute distinctness, and the one last to come was most decided and enduring. thus he met her gaze, and so ardent, intense and continuous was his, that she reddened cheek and forehead, and drew down the veil; but not, it should be understood, resentfully. the disappearance of the countenance, in effect like the sudden extinguishment of a splendor, aroused him. advancing a step, he said to her, with lowered head and perceptible embarrassment: "i come to offer hospitality to the kinswoman of the emperor constantine. the storm shows no sign of abatement, and until it does, my castle yonder is at her order. while not sumptuous in appointment as her own palace, fortunately there are comfortable apartments in it where she can rest securely and with reserve. the invitation i presume to make in the name of my most exalted master sultan amurath, who takes delight in the amity existing between him and the lord of byzantium. to lay all fear, to dispel hesitation, in his name again, together with such earnest of good faith as lies in an appeal to the most holy prophet of god, i swear the princess irene shall be safe from interruption while in the castle, and free to depart from it at her pleasure. if she chooses, this tender of courtesy may, by agreement, here in the presence of these witnesses, be taken as an affair of state. i await her answer." the prince of india heard the speech more astonished by the unexceptional latin in which it was couched than the propriety of the matter or the grace of its delivery, though, he was constrained to admit, both were very great. he also understood the meaning of the look the stranger had given him at the conclusion of his warning to the princess, and to conceal his vexation, he turned to her. that moment two covered chairs, brought from the castle, were set down near by, and the rain began to fall in earnest. "see," said the governor, "the evidence of my care for the comfort of the kinswoman of the most noble emperor constantine. i feared it would rain before i could present myself to her; nor that alone, fair princess--the chair must convict me of a wholesome dread of accusation in constantinople; for what worse could be said than that i, a faithful moslem, to whom hospitality is an ordination of religion, refused to open my gates to women in distress because they were christians. most noble and fair lady, behold how much i should esteem acceptance of my invitation!" irene looked at the prince of india, and seeing assent in his face, answered: "i will ask leave to report this courtesy as an affair of state that my royal kinsman may acknowledge it becomingly." the governor bowed very low while saying: "i myself should have suggested the course." "also that my friends"--she pointed to the prince of india, and the monk--"and all the boatmen, be included in the safeguard." this was also agreed to; whereupon she arose, and for assistance offered her hand to sergius. lael was next helped from the boat. then, taking to the chairs, the two were carried into the castle, followed by the prince and the monk afoot. chapter x the arabian story-teller the reader will doubtless refer the circumstance to the jealousy which is supposed to prompt the faithful where women are required to pass before men; yet the best evidence of the governor's thoughtfulness for his female guests met them at their approach to the castle. there was not a man visible except a sentinel on the battlement above the gate, and he stood faced inwardly, making it impossible for him to see them when they drew near. "where are the horsemen of whom you spoke? and the garrison, where are they?" sergius asked the prince. the latter shrugged his shoulders, as he answered: "they will return presently." further proof of the same thoughtfulness was presented when the two chairs were set down in the broad stone-paved passage receiving from the front door. the sole occupant there was a man, tall as the monk, but unnaturally slender; indeed, his legs resembled those of a lay figure, so thin were they, while the residue of his person, although clad in a burnoose gorgeously embroidered, would have reminded a modern of the skeletons surgeons keep for office furniture. besides blackness deep as the unlighted corner of a cellar, he had no beard. the prince of india recognized him as one of the indispensables of an eastern harem, and made ready to obey him without dissent--only the extravagance of the broidery on the burnoose confirmed him in the opinion that the chief just arrived outranked the governor. "this is the kislar aga of a prince," he said to himself. the eunuch, like one accustomed to the duty, superintended the placement of the chairs; then, resting the point of a very bright crescent-shaped sword on the floor, he said, in a voice more incisive than the ordinary feminine tenor: "i will now conduct the ladies, and guard them. no one will presume to follow." the prince replied: "it is well; but they will be comforted if permitted to abide together." he spoke with deference, and the black responded: "this is a fort, not a palace. there is but one chamber for the two." "and if i wish to communicate with them or they with me?" "_bismillah!_" the eunuch replied. "they are not prisoners. i will deliver what thou hast for them or they for thee." thereupon the princess and lael stepped from the chairs, and went with their guide. when they were gone, word sped through the castle, and with clamor and clangor, doors opened, and men poured forth in companies. and again the prince reflected: "such discipline pertains to princes only." now the office of eunuch was by no means an exclusive pagan institution; time out of mind it had been a feature of byzantine courts; and constantine dragases, the last, and probably the most christian of greek emperors, not only tolerated, but recognized it as honorable. with this explanation the reader ought not to be surprised if the princess irene accepted the guidance offered her without fear or even hesitation. doubtless she had been in similar keeping many times. climbing a number of stairways, the eunuch brought his fair charges into a part of the castle where there were signs of refinement. the floors were swept; the doors garnished with rugs; a delicate incense lingered in the air; and to rescue the tenants, whoever they might be, from darkness, lighted lamps swung from the ceiling, and were affixed to the walls. stopping finally before a portiere, he held it aside while saying: "enter here, and be at home. upon the table yonder there is a little bell; ring, and i will answer." and seeing lael clinging closely to the princess, he added: "be not afraid. know ye rather that my master, when a child, heard the story of hatim, a warrior and poet of the arabs, and ever since he has lived believing hospitality a virtue without which there can be no godliness. do not forget the bell." they entered and were alone. to their amazement the room was more than comfortably furnished. what may be termed a chandelier swung from the ceiling with many lamps ready for lighting; under it there was a circular divan; then along the four sides a divan extended continuously, with pillows at the corners in heaps. matting covered the floor, and here and there rugs of gay dyes offered noticeable degrees of warmth and coloring. large trays filled the deep recesses of the windows, and though the smell of musk overpowered the sweet outgivings of the roses blooming in them, they sufficed to rouge the daylight somewhat scantily admitted. the roughness and chill of the walls were provided against by woollen drapery answering for arras. they went first to one of the windows, and peered out. below them the world was being deluged with fiercely driven rain. there was the bosphorus lashed into waves already whitened with foam. the european shore was utterly curtained from sight. gust after gust raved around the castle, whistling and moaning; and as she beheld the danger escaped, the princess thought of the saying of the prince of india and repeated it in a spirit of thanksgiving: "by the will of god thou art here." the reflection reconciled her to the situation, and led on till presently the face and martial figure of the governor reproduced themselves to her fancy. how handsome he appeared--how courteous--how young!--scarcely older than herself! how readily she had yielded to his invitation! she blushed at the thought. lael interrupted the revery, which was not without charm, and for that reason would likely return, by bringing her a child's slipper found near the central divan; and while examining the embroidery of many-colored beads adorning it, she divined the truth. isolated as the castle was on a frontier of the islamic world, and crowded with men and material of war, yet the governor was permitted his harem, and this was its room in common. here his wives, many or few, for the time banished to some other quarters, were in the habit of meeting for the enjoyment of the scant pleasantries afforded by life like theirs. again she was interrupted. the arras over one of the walls was pushed aside, and two women came in with refreshments. a third followed with a small table of turkish pattern which she placed on the floor. the viands, very light and simple, were set upon the table; then a fourth one came bringing an armful of shawls and wraps. the last was a greek, and she explained that the lord of the castle, her master, was pleased to make his guests comfortable. in the evening later a more substantial repast would be served. meantime she was appointed to wait on them. the guests, assured by the presence of other women in the castle, partook of the refection; after which the table was removed, and the attendants for the present dismissed. wrapping themselves then in shawls, for they had not altogether escaped the rain, and were beginning to feel the mists stealing into the chamber through the unglazed windows, they took to the divan, piling the cushions about them defensively. in this condition, comfortable, cosey, perfectly at rest, and with the full enjoyment of the sensations common to every one in the midst of a novel adventure, the princess proceeded to draw from lael an account of herself; and the ingenuousness of the girl proved very charming, coupled as it was with a most unexpected intelligence. the case was the not unusual one of education wholly unsupported by experience. the real marvel to the inquisitor was that she should have made discovery of two such instances the same day, and been thrown into curious relation with them. and as women always run parallels between persons who interest them, the princess was struck with the similarities between sergius and lael. they were both young, both handsome, both unusually well informed and at the same time singularly unsophisticated. in the old pagan style, what did fate mean by thus bringing them together? she determined to keep watch of the event. and when, in course of her account, lael spoke of the prince of india, irene awoke at once to a mystery connected with him. lacking the full story, the narrator could give just enough of it to stimulate wonder. who was he? where was cipango? he was rich--learned--knew all the sciences, all the languages--he had visited countries everywhere, even the inhabited islands. to be sure, he had not appeared remarkable; indeed, she gave him small attention when he was before her; she recalled him chiefly by his eyes and velvet pelisse. while she was mentally resolving to make better study of him, the eunuch appeared under the portiere, and, coming forward, said, with a half salaam to the princess: "my master does not wish his guests to think themselves forgotten. the kinswoman of the most august emperor constantine, he remembers, is without employment to lighten the passage of a time which must be irksome to her. he humbly prays her to accept his sympathy, and sends me to say that a famous story-teller, going to the court of the sultan at adrianople, arrived at the castle to-day. would the princess be pleased to hear him?" "in what tongue does he recite?" she asked. "arabic, turkish, greek, latin, hebrew," was the reply. "oh, a most wise man!" irene consulted lael, and thinking to offer her amusement, assented to the suggestion, with thanks to the governor. "have the veils ready," the eunuch said, as he retreated backward to the door. "the story-teller is a man, and he will come directly." the story-teller was ushered in. he walked to the divan where his auditors sat, slowly, as if he knew himself under close observation, and courted it. now caravans were daily shows in constantinople. the little bell of the donkey leading its string of laden camels through the narrow streets might be heard any hour, and the shaykh in charge was almost invariably an arab. so the princess had seen many of the desert-born, and was familiar with their peculiarities; never, however, had chance brought a nobler specimen of the race before her. as he approached, stepping as modern stage heroes are wont, she saw the red slippers, the white shirt falling to the ankles and girdled at the waist, its bosom a capacious pocket, the white and red striped cloak over the shoulders. she marked the material of which they were made, the shirt of selected angora wool, the cloak of camel's hair, in its fineness iridescent and soft as velvet. she saw in the girdle an empty scabbard for a yatagan elaborately covered with brilliants. she saw on the head a kerchief of mixed silk and cotton, tasselled, heavily striated red and yellow, and secured by the usual cord; but she scarcely more than noticed them--the air of the man, high, stately, king-like, was a superior attraction, and she gazed at his face unconscious that her own was uncovered. the features were regular, the complexion sunburned to the hue of reddish copper, the beard thin, the nose sharp, the cheeks hollow, the eyes, through the double shade of brows and kerchief, glittered like balls of polished black amber. his hands were crossed above the girdle after the manner of eastern servants before acknowledged superiors; his salutation was expressive of most abject homage; yet when he raised himself, and met the glance of the princess, his eyes lingered, and brightened, and directly he cast off or forgot his humility, and looked lordlier than an emir boasting of his thousand tents, with ten spears to each, and a score of camels to the spear. she endured the gaze awhile; for it seemed she had seen the face before--where, she could not tell; and when, as presently happened, she began to feel the brightness of the eyes intenser growing, the sensation reminded her of the governor at the landing. could this be he? no, the countenance here was of a man already advanced in life. and why should the governor resort to disguise? the end, nevertheless, was the same as on the landing--she drew down the veil. then he became humble again, and spoke, his eyes downcast, his hands crossed: "this faithful servant"--he pointed to the eunuch "my friend"--the eunuch crossed his hands, and assumed an attitude of pleased attention--"brought me from his master--may the most merciful and compassionate continue a pillow to the good man here and to his soul hereafter!--how a kinswoman of the emperor whose capital is to the earth a star, and he as the brightness thereof, had taken refuge with him from the storm, and was now his guest, and languishing for want of amusement. would i tell her a story? i have a horde of parables, tales, and traditions, and many nations have contributed to it; but, alas, o princess! they are simple, and such as beguile tentmen and tentwomen shut in by the desert, their fancies tender as children's. i fear your laughter. but here i am; and as the night bird sings when the moon is risen, because the moon is beautiful and must be saluted, even so i am obedient. command me." the speech was in greek, with the slightest imperfection of accent; at the conclusion the princess was silent. "knowest thou"--she at length said--"knowest thou of one hatim, renowned as a warrior and poet of the arabs?" the eunuch saw the reference, and smiled. asking of hatim now was only another form of inquiry after his master; not merely had the latter been in her mind; she wished to know more about him. on his part, the story-teller arose from his servile posture, and asked with the animation of one to whom a favorite theme is presented: "noble lady, know you aught of the desert?" "i have never been there," the princess answered. "though not beautiful, it is the home of mysteries," he said, with growing enthusiasm. "when he whom in the same breath you worship as god and the son of god--an opposition beyond the depth of our simple faith--made ready to proclaim himself, he went for a time into the wilderness, and dwelt there. so likewise our prophet, seeing the dawn of his day, betook himself to hiva, a rock, bleak, barren, waterless. why, o princess, if not for purification, and because god of preference has founded his dwelling there, wasting it indeed the better to nurse his goodness in a perfected solitude? granting this, why may i not assert without shocking you that the sons of the desert are the noblest of men?-- "such was hatim! "in the hijaz and the nejd, they tell of him thus: "in the day the compassionate set about world-making, which is but a pastime with him, nor nearly so much as nest-building to a mother-dove, he rested. the mountains and rivers and seas were in their beds, and the land was variegated to please him, here a forest, there a grassy plain; nothing remained unfinished except the sand oceans, and they only wanted water. he rested. "now, if, with their sky, a sun-field in the day, a gallery of stars at night, and their winds, flying from sea to sea, but gathering no taint, the deserts are treeless, and unknowing the sweetness of gardens and the glory of grass, it was not by accident or forgetfulness; for with him, the compassionate, the merciful, there are no accidents or lapses of any kind. he is all attention and ever present. thus the throne verse--'drowsiness overcomes him not nor sleep.... his firmament spans the heaven and the earth, and the care of them does not distress him.' "why then the yellowness and the burning, the sameness and solitude, and the earth intolerant of rain and running stream, and of roads and paths--why, if there was neither accident nor forgetfulness? "he is the high and the great! accuse him not! "in that moment of rest, not from weariness or overburden, but to approve the work done, and record the approval as a judgment, he said, speaking to his almightiness as to a familiar: 'as it is it shall stay. a time will come when with men i, and the very name of me, shall go out utterly like the green of last year's leaf. he who walks in a garden thinks of it only; but he who abides in a desert, wanting to see the beautiful, must look into the sky, and looking there he shall be reminded of me, and say aloud and as a lover, 'there is no god but him, the compassionate, the merciful.... the eyes see him not, but he seeth the eyes; and he is the gracious, the knowing'.... so also comes a time when religion shall be without heart, dead, and the quickening of worship lost in idolatry; when men shall cry, god, my god, to stones and graven images, and sing to hear their singing, and the loud music it goes with. and that time shall be first in lands of growth and freshness, in cities where comforts and luxuries are as honey in hives after the flowering of palms. wherefore--lo, the need of deserts. there i shall never be forgotten. and out of them, out of their hardness and heat, out of their yellow distances and drouth, religion shall arise again, and go forth purified unto universality; for i shall be always present there, a life-giver. and against those days of evil, i shall keep men there, the best of their kind, and their good qualities shall not rust; they shall be brave, for i may want swords; they shall keep the given word, for as i am the truth, so shall my chosen be; there shall be no end to charity among them, for in such lands charity is life, and must take every form, friendship, love of one another, love of giving, and hospitality, unto which are riches and plenty. and in their worship, i shall be first, and honor next. and as truth is the soul of the world, it being but another of my names, for its salvation they shall speak with tongues of fire, this one an orator, that one a poet; and living in the midst of death, they shall fear me not at all, but dishonor more. mine are the sons of the desert--the word-keepers!--the unconquered and conquerless! for my name's sake, i nominate them mine, and i alone am the high and the great.... and there shall be amongst them exemplars of this virtue and that one singly; and at intervals through the centuries standards for emulation among the many, a few, in whom all the excellences shall be blent in indivisible comeliness.' "so came hatim, of the bene-tayyi, lustrous as the moon of ramazan to eager watchers on high hilltops, and better than other men, even as all the virtues together are better than any one of them, excepting charity and love of god. "now hatim's mother was a widow, poor, and without relations, but beloved by the compassionate, and always in his care, because she was wise beyond the men of her time, and kept his laws, as they were known, and taught them to her son. one day a great cry arose in the village. everybody rushed to see the cause, and then joined in the clamor. "up in the north there was an appearance the like of which had never been beheld, nor were there any to tell what it was from hearsay. some pooh-poohed, saying, contemptuously: "'tis only a cloud.' "others, observing how rapidly it came, in movement like a bird sailing on outspread motionless wings, said: "'a roc! a roc!' "when the object was nearer, a few of the villagers, in alarm, ran to their houses, shrieking: "'israfil, israfil! he is bringing the end of time!' "soon the sight was nearly overhead; then it was going by, its edge overhead, the rest of it extending eastwardly; and it was long and broad as a pasture for ten thousand camels, and horses ten thousand. it had no likeness earthly except a carpet of green silk; nor could those standing under describe what bore it along. they thought they heard the sound of a strong wind, but as the air above far and near was full of birds great and small, birds of the water as well as the land, all flying evenly with the carpet, and making a canopy of their wings, and shade deeper than a cloud's, the beholders were uncertain whether the birds or the wind served it. in passing, it dipped gently, giving them a view of what it carried--a throne of pearl and rainbow, and a crowned king sitting in majesty; at his left hand, an army of spirits, at his right, an army of men in martial sheen. "while the prodigy was before them, the spectators stirred not; nor was there one brave enough to speak; most of them with their eyes devoured it all, king and throne, birds, men and spirits; though afterwards there was asking: "'did you see the birds?' "'no.' "'the spirits?' "'no.' "'the men?' "'i saw only the king upon his throne.' "in the passing, also, a man, in splendor of apparel, stood on the carpet's edge and shouted: "'god is great! i bear witness there is no god but god.' "the same instant something fell from his hand. when the marvel was out of sight in the south, some bethought them, and went to see what it was which fell. they came back laughing, 'it was only a gourd, and as we have much better on our camel-saddles, we threw it away.' "but the mother of hatim, listening to the report, was not content. in her childhood she heard what was tradition then; how solomon, at the completion of his temple in jerusalem, journeyed to mecca upon a carpet of silk wafted by the wind, with men, spirits, and birds. wherefore, saying to herself, 'it was solomon going to mecca. not for nothing threw he the gourd,' she went alone, and brought it in, and opened it, finding three seeds--one red, like a ruby; a second blue, like a sapphire; the third green, like an emerald. "now she might have sold the seeds, for they were beautiful as gems cut for a crown, and enriched herself; but hatim was all the world to her. they were for him, she said, and getting a brown nut such as washes up from vines in the sea, she cut it, put the treasures into it, sealed them there, and tied them around the boy's neck. "'thanks, o solomon,' she said. 'there is no god but god; and i shall teach the lesson to my hatim in the morning, when _al hudhud_ flies for water; at noon, when it whistles to itself in the shade; and at night, when it draws a wing over its head to darken the darkness, and sleep.' "and from that day through all his days hatim wore the brown nut with the three seeds in it; nor was there ever such an amulet before or since; for, besides being defended by the genii who are solomon's servants, he grew one of the exemplars promised by god, having in himself every virtue. no one braver than he; none so charitable; none so generous and merciful; none so eloquent; none on whose lips poetry was such sweet speech for the exalting of souls; above all, never had there been such a keeper of his word of promise. "and of this judge you by some of the many things they tell of him. "a famine fell upon the land. it was when hatim had become sheik of his tribe. the women and children were perishing. the men could no more than witness their suffering. they knew not whom to accuse; they knew no one to receive a prayer. the time predicted was come--the name of god had gone out utterly, like the green of last year's leaf. in the sheik's tent even, as with the poorest, hunger could not be allayed--there was nothing to eat. the last camel had been devoured--one horse remained. more than once the good man went out to kill him, but the animal was so beautiful--so affectionate--so fleet! and the desert was not wide enough to hold his fame! how much easier to say, 'another day--to-morrow it may rain.' "he sat in his tent telling his wife and children stories, for he was not merely the best warrior of his day; he was the most renowned poet and storyteller. riding into battle, his men would say, 'sing to us, o hatim--sing, and we will fight.' and they he loved best, listening to him, had nigh forgot their misery, when the curtain of the tent was raised. "'who is there?' he asked. "'thy neighbor,' and the voice was a woman's. 'my children are anhungred and crying, and i have nothing for them. help, o sheik, help or they die.' "'bring them here,' he said, rising. "'she is not worse off than we,' said his wife, 'nor are her children more hungry than ours. what will you do?' "'the appeal was to me,' he answered. "and passing out, he slew the horse, and kindled a fire; then, while the stranger and her children were sharing piece by piece with his own, 'shame, shame!' he said, 'that ye alone should eat;' and going through the dowar, he brought the neighbors together, and he only went hungry. there was no more of the meat left. was ever one merciful like hatim? in combat, he gave lives, but took none. once an antagonist under his foot, called to him: 'give me thy spear, hatim,' and he gave it. "'foolish man!' his brethren exclaimed. "'what else was there?' he answered. 'did not the poor man ask a gift of me?' "never a captive besought his help vainly. on a journey once, a prisoner begged him to buy his liberty; but he was without the money required, and on that account he was sorely distressed. to his entreaties, the strangers listened hard-heartedly; at last he said to them: "am not i--hatim--good as he? let him go, and take me.' "and knocking the chains from the unfortunate, he had them put on himself, and wore them until the ransom came. "in his eyes a poet was greater than a king, and than singing a song well the only thing better was being the subject of a song. perpetuation by tombs he thought vulgar; so the glory unremembered in verse deserved oblivion. was it wonderful he gave and kept giving to story-tellers, careless often if what he thus disposed of was another's? "once in his youth--and at hearing this, o princess, the brown-faced sons of the desert, old and young, laugh, and clap their hands--he gave of his grandfather's store until the prudent old man, intending to cure him of his extravagance, sent him to tend his herds in the country. alas! "across the plain hatim one day beheld a caravan, and finding it escorting three poets to the court of the king of el-herah, he invited them to stop with him, and while he killed a camel for each of them, they recited songs in his praise, and that of his kin. when they wished to resume the journey, he detained them. "'there is no gift like the gift of song,' he said. 'i will do better by you than will he, the king to whom you are going. stay with me, and for every verse you write i will give you a camel. behold the herd!' "and at departing, they had each a hundred camels, and he three hundred verses. "'where is the herd?' the grandfather asked, when next he came to the pasture. "'see thou. here are songs in honor of our house,' hatim answered, proudly--'songs by great poets; and they will be repeated until all arabia is filled with our glory.' "'alas! thou hast ruined me!' the elder cried, beating his breast. "'what!' said hatim, indignantly. 'carest thou more for the dirty brutes than for the crown of honor i bought with them?'" here the arab paused. the recitation, it is to be remarked, had been without action, or facial assistance--a wholly unornate delivery; and now he kept stately silence. his eyes, intensely bright in the shadow of the _kufiyeh,_ may have produced the spell which held the princess throughout; or it may have been the eyes and voice; or, quite as likely, the character of hatim touched a responsive chord in her breast. "i thank you," she said, adding presently: "in saying i regret the story ended so soon, i pray you receive my opinion of its telling. i doubt if hatim himself could have rendered it better." the arab recognized the compliment with the faintest of bows, but made no reply in words. irene then raised her veil, and spoke again. "thy hatim, o eloquent arab, was warrior and poet, and, as thou hast shown him to me, he was also a philosopher. in what age did he live?" "he was a shining light in the darkness preceding the appearance of the prophet. that period is dateless with us." "it is of little consequence," she continued. "had he lived in our day, he would have been more than poet, warrior and philosopher--he would be a christian. his charity and love of others, his denial of self, sound like the christ. doubtless he could have died for his fellow-men. hast thou not more of him? surely he lived long and happily." "yes," said the arab, with a flash of the eyes to denote his appreciation of the circumstance. "he is reported to have been the most wretched of men. his wife--i pray you will observe i am speaking by the tradition--his wife had the power, so dreadful to husbands, of raising iblis at pleasure. it delighted her to beat him and chase him from his tent; at last she abandoned him." "ah!" the princess exclaimed. "his charities were not admirable in her eyes." "the better explanation, princess, may be found in a saying we have in the desert--'a tall man may wed a small woman, but a great soul shall not enter into bonds with a common one.'" there was silence then, and as the gaze of the story-teller was again finding a fascination in her face, irene took refuge behind her veil, but said, presently: "with permission, i will take the story of hatim for mine; but here is my friend--what hast thou for her?" the story-teller turned to lael. "her pleasure shall be mine," he said. "i should like something indian," the girl answered, timidly, for the eyes oppressed her also. "alas! india has no tales of love. her poetry is about gods and abstract religions. wherefore, if i may choose, i will a tale from persia next. in that country there was a verse-maker called firdousi, and he wrote a great poem, _the shah nameh_, with a warrior for hero. this is how rustem, in single combat, killed sohrab, not knowing the youth was his son until after the awful deed was done." the tale was full of melancholy interest, and told with singular grace; but it continued until after nightfall; of which the party was admonished by the attendants coming to light the lamps. at the conclusion, the arab courteously apologized for the time he had wrested from them. "in dealing with us, o princess," he said, "patience is full as lovely as charity." lifting the veil again, she extended her hand to him, saying, "the obligation is with us. i thank you for making light and pleasant an afternoon which else had been tedious." he kissed her hand, and followed the eunuch to the door. then the supper was announced. chapter xi the turquoise ring the prince of india, left in the passage of the castle with sergius, was not displeased with the course the adventure appeared to be taking. in the first place, he felt no alarm for lael; she might be uncomfortable in the quarter to which she had been conducted, but that was all, and it would not last long. the guardianship of the eunuch was in his view a guaranty of her personal safety. in the next place, acquaintance with the princess might prove serviceable in the future. he believed lael fitted for the highest rank; she was already educated beyond the requirements of the age for women; her beauty was indisputable; as a consequence, he had thought of her a light in the court; and not unpleasantly it occurred to him now that the fair princess might carry keys for both the inner and outer doors of the royal residence. generally the affair which was of concern to lael was an affair of absorbing interest to the prince; in this instance, however, another theme offered itself for the moment a superior attraction. the impression left by the young master of ceremonies in the reception at the landing was of a kind to arouse curiosity. his appearance, manner, speech and the homage paid him denoted exalted rank; while the confidence with which he spoke for sultan amurath was most remarkable. his acceptance of the terms presented by the princess irene was little short of downright treaty-making; and what common official dared carry assumption to such a height? finally the prince fell to thinking if there was any person the actual governor of the castle would quietly permit to go masquerading in his authority and title. then everything pointed him to prince mahommed. the correspondence in age was perfect; the martial array seen galloping down the bank was a fitting escort for the heir-apparent of the gray sultan; and he alone might with propriety speak for his father in a matter of state. "a mistake cannot be serious," said the prince to himself, at the end of the review. "i will proceed upon the theory that the young man is prince mahommed." this was no sooner determined than the restless mind flew forward to an audience. the time and place--midnight in the lonesome old castle--were propitious, and he was prepared for it. indeed it was the very purpose he had in view the night of the repast in his tent at el zaribah where he so mysteriously intrusted the emir mirza with revelations concerning the doom of constantinople. once more he ran over the scheme which had brought him from cipango. if islam could not be brought to lead in the project, christendom might be more amenable to reason. the moslem world was to be reached through the kaliph whom he expected to find in egypt; wherefore his contemplated trip down the nile from kash-cush. if driven to the christian, constantine was to be his operator. such in broadest generality was the plan of execution he had resolved upon. but to these possibilities he had appended another of which it is now necessary to speak. enough has been given to apprise the reader of the things to which the prince preferably devoted himself. these were international affairs, and transcendently war. if indeed the latter were not the object he had always specially in mind, it was the end to which his management usually conducted. for mere enjoyment in the sight of men facing the death which strangely passed him by, he delighted in hovering on the edge of battle until there was a crisis, and then plunging into its heated heart. he had also a peculiar method of bringing war about. this consisted in providing for punishments in case his enterprises miscarried. invariably somebody suffered for such failures. in that way he soothed the pangs of wounded vanity. when he was inventing the means for executing his plots, and forming the relations essential to them, it was his habit to select instruments of punishment in advance. probably no better illustration of this feature of his dealings can be given than is furnished by the affair now engaging him. if he failed to move the kaliph to lead the reform, he would resort to constantine; if the emperor also declined, he would make him pay the penalty; then came the reservation. so soon after his arrival from cipango as he could inform himself of the political conditions of the world to which he was returning, he fixed upon mahommed to avenge him upon the offending greek. the meeting with mirza at el zaribah was a favorable opportunity to begin operating upon the young turk. the tale the emir received that night under solemn injunctions of secrecy was really intended for his master. how well it was devised for the end in view the reader will be able to judge from what is now to follow. the audience with mahommed determined upon by the prince of india, our first point of interest is in observing how he set about accomplishing it. his promptness was characteristic. directly the ladies had disappeared with the eunuch, the soldiers poured from their hiding places in the castle, and seeing one whom he judged an officer, the prince called to him in turkish: "ho, my friend!" the man was obliging. "present my salutations to the governor of the castle, and say the prince of india desires speech with him." the soldier hesitated. "understand," said the prince, quickly, "my message is not to the great lord who received me at the landing. but the governor in fact. bring him here." the confident manner prevailed. presently the messenger returned with a burly, middle-aged person in guidance. a green turban above a round face, large black eyes in muffling of fleshy lids, pallid cheeks lost in dense beard, a drab gown lined with yellow fur, a naked cimeter in a silk-embroidered sash, bespoke the turk; but how unlike the handsome, fateful-looking masquerader at the river side! "the prince of india has the honor of speech with the governor of the castle?" "god be praised," the governor replied. "i was seeking your highness. besides wishing to join in your thanks for happy deliverance from the storm, i thought to discharge my duty as a moslem host by conducting you to refreshments and repose. follow me, i pray." a few steps on the way, the governor stopped: "was there not a companion--a younger man--a dervish?" "a monk," said the prince; "and the question reminds me of my attendant, a negro. send for him--or better, bring them both to me. i wish them to share my apartment." in a short time the three were in quarters, if one small room may be so dignified. the walls were cold gray stone; one oblong narrow port-hole admitted scanty light; a rough bench, an immense kettle-drum shaped like the half of an egg-shell, and propped broadside up, some piles of loose straw, each with folded sheepskins on it, constituted the furnishment. sergius made no sign of surprise or disappointment. possibly the chamber and its contents were reproductions of his cell up in bielo-osero. nilo gave himself to study of the drum, reminded, doubtless, of similar warlike devices in kash-cush. the prince alone expostulated. taking a stand between the governor and the door, he said: "a question before thou goest hence." the turk gazed at him silently. "to what accommodations have the princess irene and her attendant been taken? are they vile as these?" "the reception room of my harem is the most comfortable the castle affords," the governor answered. "and they?" "they are occupying it." "not by courtesy of thine. he who could put the hospitality of the prince mahommed to shame by maltreating one of his guests." he paused, and grimly surveyed the room. "such a servant would be as evil-minded to another guest; and that the other is a woman, would not affect his imbruited soul." "the prince mahommed!" the governor exclaimed. "yes. what brings him here, matters not; his wish to keep the romans in ignorance of his near presence, i know as well as thou; none the less, it was his royal word we accepted. as for thee--thou mightest have promised faith and hospitality with thy hand on the prophet's beard, yet would i have bidden the princess trust herself to the tempest sooner." sergius was now standing by, but the conversation being in turkish, he listened without understanding. "thou ass!" the prince continued. "not to know that the kinswoman of the roman emperor, under this roof by treaty with the mighty amurath, his son the negotiator, is our guardian! when the storm shall have spent itself, and the waters quieted down, she will resume her journey. then--it may be in the morning--she will first ask for us, and then thy master will require to know how we have passed the night. ah, thou beginnest to see!" the governor's head was drooping; his hands crossed themselves upon his stomach; and when he raised his eyes, they were full of deprecation and entreaty. "your highness--most noble lord--condescend to hear me." "speak. i am awake to hear the falsehood thou hast invented in excuse of thy perfidy to us, and thy treason to him, the most generous of masters, the most chivalrous of knights." "your highness has greatly misconceived me. in the first place you have forgotten the crowded state of the castle. every room and passage is filled with the suite and escort of"-- he hesitated, and turned pale, like a man dropped suddenly into a great danger. the shrewd guest caught at the broken sentence and finished it: "of prince mahommed!" "with the suite and escort," the governor repeated.... "in the next place, it was not my intention to leave you unprovided. from my own apartments, light, beds and seats were ordered to be brought here, with meats for refreshment, and water for cleansing and draught. the order is in course of execution now. indeed, your highness, i swear by the first chapter of the koran"-- "take something less holy to swear by," cried the prince. "then, by the bones of the faithful, i swear i meant to make you comfortable, even to my own deprivation." "by thy young master's bidding?" the governor bent forward very low. "well," said the prince, softening his manner--"the misconception was natural." "yes--yes." "and now thou hast only to prove thy intention by making it good." "trust me, your highness." "trust thee? ay, on proof. i have a commission"-- the prince then drew a ring from his finger. "take this," he said, "and deliver it to the emir mirza." the assurance of the speech was irresistible; so the turk held out his hand to receive the token. "and say to the emir, that i desire him to thank the most compassionate and merciful for the salvation of which we were witnesses at the southwest corner of the kaaba." "what!" exclaimed the governor. "art thou a moslem?" "i am not a christian." the governor, accepting the ring, kissed the hand offering it, and took his departure, moving backward, and with downcast eyes, his manner declarative of the most abject humility. hardly was the door closed behind the outgoing official, when the prince began to laugh quietly and rub his hands together--quietly, we say, for the feeling was not merriment so much as self-gratulation. there was cleverness in having doubted the personality of the individual who received the refugees at the landing; there was greater cleverness in the belief which converted the governor into the prince mahommed; but the play by which the fact was uncovered--if not a stroke of genius, how may it be better described? the prince of india thought as he laughed: "not long now until amurath joins his fathers, and then--mahommed." presently he stopped, a step half taken, his gaze upon the floor, his hands clasped behind him. he stood so still it would not have been amiss to believe a thought was all the life there was in him. he certainly did believe in astrology. had not men been always ruled by what they imagined heavenly signs? how distinctly he remembered the age of the oracle and the augur! upon their going out he became a believer in the stars as prophets, and then an adept; afterwhile he reached a stage when he habitually mistook the commonest natural results, even coincidences, for confirmations of planetary forecasts. and now this halting and breathlessness was from sudden recollection that the horoscope lying on his table in constantinople had relation to mahommed in his capacity of conqueror. how marvellous also that from the meeting with constantine in the street of the city, he should have been blown by a tempest to a meeting with mahommed in the white castle! these circumstances, trifling to the reader, were of deep influence to the prince of india. while he stands there rigid as a figure marbleized in mid action, he is saying to himself: "the audience will take place--heaven has ordered it. would i knew what manner of man this mahommed is!" he had seen a handsome youth, graceful in bearing, quick and subtle in speech, cultivated and evidently used to governing. very good, but what an advantage there would be in knowing the bents and inclinations of the royal lad beforehand. presently the schemer's head arose. the boyish prince was going about in armor when soft raiment would be excusable--and that meant ambition, dreams of conquest, dedication to martial glory. very good indeed! and then his manner under the eyes of the girlish princess--how quickly her high-born grace had captivated him! something impossible were he not of a romantic turn, a poet, sentimentalist, knight errant. the prince clapped his hands. he knew the appeals effective with such natures. let the audience come.... ah, but-- again he sunk into thought. youths like mahommed were apt to be wilful. how was he to be controlled? one expedient after another was swiftly considered and as swiftly rejected. at last the right one! like his ancestors from ertoghrul down, the young turk was a believer in the stars. not unlikely he was then in the castle by permission of his astrologer. indeed, if mirza had repeated the conversation and predictions at el zaribah, the prince of india was being waited for with an impatience due a master of the astral craft. again the wanderer cried, "let the audience come!" and peace and confidence were possessing him when a loud report and continuous rumble in the room set the solid floor to quaking. he looked around in time to see the big drum quivering under a blow from nilo. from the negro his gaze wandered to sergius standing before the one loophole by which light and air were let into the dismal chamber; and recalling the monk as the sole attendant of the princess irene, he thought it best to speak to him. drawing near, he observed the cowl thrown back, and that the face was raised, the eyes closed, the hands palm to palm upon the breast. involuntarily he stopped, not because he was one of those who always presume the most holy presence when prayer is being offered--he stopped, wondering where he had seen that countenance. the delicate features, the pallid complexion, the immature beard, the fair hair parted in the middle, and falling in wavy locks over the shoulders, the aspect manly yet womanly in its refinement, were strangely familiar to him. it was his first view of the monk's face. where had he seen it? his memory went back, far back of the recent. a chill struck his heart. the features, look, air, portrait, the expression indefinable except as a light of outcoming spirit, were those of the man he had helped crucify before the damascus gate in the holy city, and whom he could no more cast out of mind than he could the bones from his body. his feet seemed rooting into the flinty flags beneath them. he heard the centurion call to him: "ho, there! if thou knowest the golgotha, come show it." he felt the sorrowful eyes of the condemned upon him. he struck the bloody cheek, and cried as to a beast: "go faster, jesus!" and then the words, wrung from infinite patience at last broken: "i am going, but do thou tarry till i come." for relief, he spoke: "what dost thou, my friend?" sergius opened his eyes and answered simply, "i am praying." "to whom?" "to god." "art thou a christian?" "yes." "god is for the jew and the moslem." "nay," said sergius, looking at the prince without taking down his hands, "all who believe in god find happiness and salvation in him--the christian as well as the jew and the moslem." the questions had been put with abrupt intensity; now the inquisitor drew back astonished. he heard the very postulate of the scheme to which he was devoting himself--and from a boy so like the dead christ he was working to blot out of worship he seemed the christ arisen! the amazement passed slowly, and with its going the habitual shrewdness and capacity to make servants of circumstances apparently the most untoward returned. the youth had intellect, impressiveness, aptitude in words, and a sublime idea. but what of his spirit--his courage--his endurance in the faith? "how came this doctrine to thee?" the prince spoke deferentially. "from the good father hilarion." "who is he?" "the archimandrite of bielo-osero." "a monastery?" "yes." "how did he receive it?" "from the spirit of god, whence christ had his wisdom--whence all good men have their goodness--by virtue of which they, like him, become sons of god." "what is thy name?" "sergius." "sergius"--the prince, now fully recovered, exerted his power of will--"sergius, thou art a heretic." at this accusation, so terrible in those days, the monk raised the rosary of large beads dangling from his girdle, kissed the cross, and stood surveying the accuser with pity. "that is," the prince continued with greater severity, "speak thou thus to the patriarch yonder"--he waved a hand toward constantinople--"dare repeat the saying to a commission appointed to try thee for heresy, and thou wilt thyself taste the pangs of crucifixion or be cast to the beasts." the monk arose to his great height, and replied, fervently: "knowest thou when death hath the sweetness of sleep? i will tell thee"--a light certainly not from the narrow aperture in the wall collected upon his countenance, and shone visibly--"it is when a martyr dies knowing both of god's hands are a pillow under his head." the prince dropped his eyes, for he was asking himself, was such sweetness of sleep appointed for him? resuming his natural manner, he said: "i understand thee, sergius. probably no man in the world, go thou east or west, will ever understand thee better. god's hands under my head, welcome death!--let us be friends." sergius took his offered hand. just then there was a noise at the door, and a troop of servants entered with lighted lamps, rugs, a table, stools, and beds and bedding, and it was not long until the apartment was made habitable. the prince, otherwise well satisfied, wanted nothing then but a reply from mirza; and in the midst of his wonder at the latter's delay, a page in brilliant costume appeared, and called out: "the emir mirza!" chapter xii the ring returns the prince, at the announcement of mirza, took position near the centre of the room where the light was ample. his black velvet pelisse contrasting strongly with his white hair and beard, he looked a mysterious indian potentate to whom occult nature was a familiar, and the stars oracular friends. mirza's cheeks were scarcely so sun and sand stained as when we first beheld him in conduct of the caravan to mecca; in other respects he was unchanged. his attire, like the lord mahommed's at the reception on the landing, was of chain mail very light and flexible. he carried a dagger in his belt, and to further signify confidence in the prince, the flat steel cap forming his headgear was swinging loosely from his left arm; or he might have intended to help his friend to a more ready recognition by presenting himself bareheaded. he met his survey with unaffected pleasure, took the hand extended in greeting, and kissed it reverentially. "forgive me, o prince, if my first greeting have the appearance of a reproach," mirza said, as he gave up the hand. "why have you kept us waiting so long?" the prince's countenance assumed a severe expression. "emir, i gave you confidence under seal." the emir flushed deeply. "was it knightly to betray me? to whom have you told the secret? how many have been waiting for my coming?" "be merciful, i pray." "but the stars. you have made me culprit with them. i may pardon you; can you assure me of their pardon?" the emir raised his head, and with an expostulatory gesture, was about to reply, when the prince continued, "put thy words in the tongue coinage of italy, for to be overheard now were to make me an offender like unto thyself." mirza glanced hastily at sergius, still praying before the loophole, and at nilo; then he surveyed the cell critically, and said, in italian, "this is the prison of the castle--and thou--can it be i see thee a prisoner?" the prince smiled. "the governor led me here with my friends; and what you behold of accommodations he sent in afterwards, saying the better rooms were filled with soldiery." "he will rue the deed. my lord is swift at righting a wrong, and trust me, o prince, to make report. but to return"--mirza paused, and looked into the prince's eyes earnestly--"is your accusation just? hear me; then by the motive judge. when i stood before my master, prince mahommed, a returned pilgrim, if not taller in fact, his bearing was more majestic. i kissed his hand wondering if some servant of the compassionate, some angel or travelling jinn, had not arrived before me, and whispered him of what you told me, speaking for the stars. and when we were alone, he would have account of the countries journeyed through, of the people met, of medina and mecca, and the other holy places; nor would he rest until he had from me the sayings i had heard on the way, everything from calls to prayer to the khatib's sermon. when i told him i had not heard the sermon, nor seen the preacher or his camel, he demanded why, and--what else was there to do, o prince?--i related how we had been pursued by the terrible yellow air; how it had overtaken me; how i fell down dying at the corner of the kaaba, and by whom i was saved even as the life was departing. this last directed him to you. my efforts to put him off but whetted his desire. he would not be diverted or denied. he insisted--urged--threatened. at last i told him all--of your joining us with the hajj from el khatif--your rank and train--your marches in the rear--the hundreds of miserables you saved from the plague--of our meeting at zaribah, your hospitality, your learning in all that pertains to the greatest of the prophets, your wisdom above the wisdom of other men. and you grew upon him as i proceeded. 'oh, a good man truly!' 'what courage!' 'what charity!' 'the prophet himself!' 'oh, that i had been you!' 'o foolish mirza, to suffer such a man to escape!' with such exclamations he kept breaking up my story. it was not long until he fastened upon our meeting in the tent. he plied me to know of what we talked--what you said, and all you said. o prince, if you did but know him; if you knew the soul possessing him, the intellectual things he has mastered, his sagacity, his art, his will, his day-dreams pursuing him in sleep, the deeds he is prepared to do, the depth and strength of his passions, his admiration for heroes, his resolve to ring the world with the greatness of his name--oh, knew you the man as i do, were you his lover as i am, his confidant--had you, for teaching him to ride and strike with sword and spear, his promise of a share in the glory beckoning him on, making his mighty expectations a part of you even as they are of him, would you--ah, prince, could you have withheld the secret? think of the revelation! the old east to awake, and march against the west! constantinople doomed! and he the leader for whom the opportunity is waiting! and to call my weakness betrayal! unsay it, unsay it, prince!" the face of the auditor as mirza proceeded with his defence would have been a profitable study. he saw himself succeeding in the purpose of his affected severity; he was drawing from mahommed's intimate the information he most desired; and thus advised in advance, his role in the interview coming would be of easy foresight and performance. not to appear too lightly satisfied, however, he said gravely, "i see the strain you underwent, my gallant friend. i see also the earnestness of your affection for your most noble pupil. he is to be congratulated upon the possession of a servant capable of such discernment and devotion. but i recall my question--how many are there waiting for me?" "your revelations, o prince, were imparted to my master alone; and with such certainty as you know yourself, you may believe them at rest in his bosom. no one better than he appreciates the importance of keeping them there under triple lock. more than one defeat--i think he would permit the confession--has taught him that secrecy is the life of every enterprise." "say you so, emir? i feel warmth returning to my hope. nay, listening to you, and not believing in improvised heroes, i see how your course may have been for the best. the years gone since you yielded to his importunities, wisely used, have doubtless served him providentially." the prince extended his hand again, and it was ardently taken; then, on his part, more than pleased, mirza said, "i bring you a message from my lord mahommed. i was with him when the governor came and delivered your ring to me--and, lest i forget a duty, prince, here it is--take it at some future time it may be serviceable as today." "yes, well thought!" the jew exclaimed, replacing the signet on his finger, and immediately, while looking at the turquoise eye, he dropped his tone into the solemn, "ay, the obligations of the pentagram endure--they are like a decree of god." the words and manner greatly impressed mirza. "my lord mahommed," he said, "observed the delivery of the ring to me by the governor; and when we were alone, and i had recounted the story of the jewels, 'what!' my lord cried, quite as transported as myself. 'that wonderful man--he here--here in this castle! he shall not escape me. send for him at once. i brook no delay.' he stamped his foot. 'lest he vanish in the storm--go!' when i was at the door, he bade me come back. 'the elder man with the white beard and black eyes, said you? it were well for me to begin by consulting his comfort. he may be tired, and in want of repose; his accommodations may be insufficient; wherefore go see him first, and ascertain his state and wishes.' and as i was going, he summoned me to return again. 'a moment--stay!' he said.'the circumstance enlarges with thought. thou knowest, mirza, i did not come here with a special object; i was drawn involuntarily; now i see it was to meet him. it is a doing of the stars. i shall hear from them!' o prince"--mirza's eyes sparkled, arid he threw up both his hands--"if ever man believed what he said, my master did." "a wise master truly," said the jew, struggling with his exultation. "what said he next?" "'while i am honoring their messenger'--thus my lord continued--'why not honor the stars? their hour is midnight, for then they are all out, from this horizon and that calling unto each other, and merging their influences into the harmony the preachers call the will of the most merciful. a good hour for the meeting. hear, mirza--at midnight--in this room. go now.' and so it is appointed." "and well appointed, emir." "shall i so report?" "with my most dutiful protestations." "look for me then at midnight." "i shall be awake, and ready." "meantime, prince, i will seek an apartment more in correspondence with the degree of my lord's most honored guest." "nay, good mirza, suffer me to advise in that matter. the bringing me into this place was a mistake of the governor's. he could not divine the merit i have in your master's eyes. he took me for a christian. i forgive him, and pray he may not be disturbed. he may be useful to me. upon the springing of a mischance--there is one such this instant in my mind's eye--i may be driven to come back to this castle. in such an event, i prefer him my servant rather than my enemy." "o prince!" "nay, emir, the idea is only a suggestion of one of the prophets whom allah stations at the turns in every man's career." "but every man cannot see the prophets." the jew finished gravely: "rather than disturb the governor further, soothe him for me; and when the lord mahommed goes hence, do thou see an instruction is left putting the castle and its chief at my order. also, as thou art a grateful friend, mirza, serve me by looking into the kettles out of which we are to have our refreshment, and order concerning them as for thyself. i feel a stir of appetite." the emir backed from the apartment, leaving a low salaam just outside the door. if the reader thinks the prince content now, he is not mistaken. true he paced the floor long and rapidly; but, feeling himself close upon a turn in his course, he was making ready for it perfectly as possible by consulting the prophet whom he saw waiting there. and as the lord mahommed failed not to remember them what time he betook himself to supper, the three guests up in the prison fared well, nor cared for the howling of the wind, and the bursting and beating of the rain still rioting without the walls. chapter xiii mahommed hears from the stars the second recall of the emir mirza departing with the appointment for the prince of india was remarkable, considering mahommed's usual quickness of conclusion and steadiness of purpose; and the accounting for it is noteworthy. so completely had the young turk been taken up by study and military service that leisure for love had been denied him; else he either despised the passion or had never met a woman to catch his fancy and hold it seriously. we have seen him make the white castle by hard galloping before the bursting of the storm. while at the gate, and in the midst of his reception there, the boats were reported making all speed to the river landing; and not wishing his presence at the castle to be known in constantinople, he despatched an under officer to seize the voyagers, and detain them until he had crossed the bosphorus _en route_ to adrianople. however, directly the officer brought back the spirited message of the princess irene to the governor of the castle, his mind underwent a change. "what," he asked, "sayst thou the woman is akin to the emperor constantine?" "such is her claim, my lord, and she looks it." "is she old?" "young, my lord--not more than twenty." mahommed addressed the governor: "stay thou here. i will take thy office, and wait upon this princess." dismounting, then, in the capacity of governor of the castle, he hastened to the landing, curious as well as desirous of offering refuge to the noble lady. he saw her first a short way off, and was struck with her composed demeanor. during the discussion of his tender of hospitality, her face was in fair view, and it astonished him. when finally she stepped from the boat, her form, delicately observable under the rich and graceful drapery, and so exquisitely in correspondence with her face, still further charmed him. before the chairs were raised, he sent a messenger to the castle with orders to place everybody in hiding, and for his kislar-aga, or chief eunuch, to be in the passage of entrance to receive and take charge of the kinswoman of the emperor and her attendant. by a further order the governor proper was directed to vacate his harem apartments for her accommodation. in the castle, after the princess had been thus disposed of, the impression she made upon him increased. "she is so high-born!--so beautiful!--she has such spirit and mind!--she is so calm under trial--so courageous--so decorous--so used to courtly life!" such exclamations attested the unwonted ferment going on in his mind. gradually, as tints under the brush of a skilful painter lose themselves in one effect, his undefined ideas took form. "o allah! what a sultana for a hero!" and by repetition this ran on into what may be termed the chorus of a love song--the very first of the kind his soul had ever sung. such was mahommed's state when mirza received the turquoise ring, and, announcing the prince of india, asked for orders. was it strange he changed his mind? indeed he was at the moment determining to see again the woman who had risen upon him like a moon above a lake; so, directly he had despatched the emir to the prince of india with the appointment for midnight, he sent for an arab sheik of his suite, arrayed himself in the latter's best habit, and stained his hands, neck, and face-turned himself, in brief, into the story-teller whom we have seen admitted to amuse the princess irene. at midnight, sharply as the hour could be determined by the uncertain appliances resorted to by the inmates of the castle, mirza appeared at his master's door with the mystical indian, and, passing the sentinel there, knocked like one knowing himself impatiently awaited. a voice bade them enter. the young turk, upon their entrance, arose from a couch of many cushions prepared for him under a canopy in the centre of the room. "this, my lord, is the prince of india" said mirza; then, almost without pause, he turned to the supposed indian, and added more ceremoniously: "be thou happy, o prince! the east hath not borne a son so worthy to take the flower from the tomb of saladin, and wear it, as my master here--the lord mahommed." then, his duty done, the emir retired. mahommed was in the garb used indoors immemorially by his race--sharply pointed slippers, immense trousers gathered at the ankles, a yellow quilted gown dropping below the knees, and a turban of balloon shape, its interfolding stayed by an aigrette of gold and diamonds. his head was shaven up to the edge of the turban, so that, the light falling from a cluster of lamps in suspension from the ceiling, every feature was in plain exposure. looking into the black eyes scarcely shaded by the upraised arching brows, the prince of india saw them sparkle with invitation and pleasure, and was himself satisfied. he advanced, and saluted by falling upon his knees, and kissing the back of his hands laid palm downward on the floor. mahommed raised him to his feet. "rise, o prince!" he said--"rise, and come sit with me." from behind the couch, the turk dragged a chair of ample seat, railed around except at the front, and provided with a cushion of camel's hair--a chair such as teachers in the mosques use when expounding to their classes. this he placed so while he sat on the couch the visitor would be directly before him, and but little removed. soon the two were sitting cross-legged face to face. "a man devout as the prince of india is reported to me," mahommed began, in a voice admirably seconding the respectful look he fixed upon the other, "must be of the rightly guided, who believe in god and the last day, and observe prayer, and pay the alms, and dread none but god--who therefore of right frequent the temples." "your words, my lord, are those of the veritable messenger of the most high heaven," the wanderer responded, bending forward as if about to perform a prostration. "i recognize them, and they give me the sensation of being in a garden of perpetual abode, with a river running beneath it." mahommed, perceiving the quotation from the koran, bent low in turn, saying: "it is good to hear you, for as i listen i say to myself, this one is of the servants of the merciful who are to walk upon the earth softly. i accost you in advance, welcome and peace." after a short silence, he continued: "a frequenter of mosques, you will see, o prince, i have put you in the teacher's place. i am the student. yours to open the book and read; mine to catch the pearls of your saying, lest they fall in the dust, and be lost." "i fear my lord does me honor overmuch; yet there is a beauty in willingness even where one cannot meet expectation. of what am i to speak?" mahommed knit his brows, and asked imperiously, "who art thou? of that tell me first." happily for the prince, he had anticipated this demand, and, being intensely watchful, was ready for it, and able to reply without blenching: "the emir introduced me rightly. i am a prince of india." "now of thy life something." "my lord's request is general--perhaps he framed it with design. left thus to my own judgment, i will be brief, and choose from the mass of my life." there was not the slightest sign of discomposure discernible in the look or tone of the speaker; his air was more than obliging--he seemed to be responding to a compliment. "i began walk as a priest--a disciple of siddhartha, whom my lord, of his great intelligence, will remember as born in central india. very early, on account of my skill in translation, i was called to china, and there put to rendering the thirty-five discourses of the father of the budhisattwa into chinese and thibettan. i also published a version of the lotus of the good law, and another of the nirvana. these brought me a great honor. to an ancestor of mine, maha kashiapa, buddha happened to have intrusted his innermost mysteries--that is, he made him keeper of the pure secret of the eye of right doctrine. behold the symbol of that doctrine." the prince drew a leaf of ivory, worn and yellow, from a pocket under his pelisse, and passed it to mahommed, saying, "will my lord look?" mahommed took the leaf, and in the silver sunk into it saw this sign: [illustration] "i see," he said, gravely. "give me its meaning." "nay, my lord, did i that, the doctrine of which, as successor of kashiapa, though far removed, they made me keeper--the very highest of buddhistic honors--would then be no longer a secret. the symbol is of vast sanctity. there is never a genuine image of buddha without it over his heart. it is the monogram of vishnu and siva; but as to its meaning, i can only say every brahman of learning views it worshipfully, knowing it the compression of the whole mind of buddha." mahommed respected the narrator's compunction, and returned the symbol, saying simply, "i have heard of such things." "to pursue," the prince then said, confident of the impression he was producing: "at length i returned to my own country enriched beyond every hope. a disposition to travel seized me. one day, passing the desert to baalbec, some bedouin made me prisoner, and carrying me to mecca, sold me to the scherif there; a good man who respected my misfortune and learning--may the youths ever going in paradise forget not his cup of flowing wine!--and wrought with me over the book of the one god until i became a believer like himself. then, as i had exchanged the hope of nirvana for the better and surer hope of islam, he set me free.... again in my native land, i betook myself to astrologic studies, being the more inclined thereto by reason of the years i had spent in contemplating the abstrusities of siddhartha. i became an adept--something, as my lord may already know, impossible to such as go about unknowing the whole earth and heavens, and the powers superior, those of the sky, and those lesser, meaning kings, emperors, and sultans." "how!" exclaimed mahommed. "is not every astrologer an adept?" the prince answered softly, seeing the drift was toward the professor in the young turk's service. "there is always a better until we reach the best. even the stars differ from each other in degree." "but how may a man know the superior powers?" "the sum of the observations kept by the wise through the ages, and recorded by them, is a legacy for the benefit of the chosen few. had my lord the taste, and were he not already devoted by destiny, i could take him to a college where what is now so curious to him is simple reading." the hard and doubting expression on mahommed's face began to soften, yet he persisted: "knowing the superior, why is it needful to know the inferior powers?" "my lord trenches now upon the forbidden, yet i will answer as his shrewdness deserves. never man heard from the stars in direct speech--that were almost like words with god. but as they are servants, they also have servants. moreover what we have from them is always in answer. they love to be sought after by the diligent. some ages ago an adept seeking this and that of them conjecturally, had reply, 'lo! a tribe of poor wanderers in the east. heed them, for they shall house their dominion in palaces now the glory of the west, and they shall dig the pit to compass the fall of the proud.' is it this tribe? is it that? but the seeker never knew. the children of ertoghrul were yet following their herds up and down the pastures they had from ala-ed-din, the iconian. not knowing their name, he could not ask of them from the decree-makers?" the mystic beheld the blood redden mahommed's open countenance, and the brightening of his eyes; and as he was speaking to his pride, he knew he was not amiss. "the saying of the stars," he went on, "descended to succeeding adepts. time came to their aid. when at length your fathers seated themselves in broussa, the mystery was in part revealed. anybody, even the low-browed herdsman shivering in the currents blowing from the trojan heights, could then have named the fortunate tribe. still the exposure was not complete; a part remained for finding out. we knew the diggers of the pit; but for whom was it? to this i devoted myself. hear me closely now--my lord, i have traversed the earth, not once, but many times--so often, you cannot name a people unknown to me, nor a land whither i have not been--no, nor an island. as the grandson of abd-el-muttalib was a messenger of god, i am a messenger of the predicting stars--not their prophet, only their interpreter and messenger. the business of the stars is my business." mahommed's lips moved, and it was with an effort he kept silent. the prince proceeded, apparently unconscious of the interest he was exciting: "here and there while i travelled, i kept communication with the planets; and though i had many of their predictions to solve, i asked them oftenest after the unnamed proud one for whom thy ottomanites were charged to dig a pit. i presented names without number--names of persons, names of peoples, and lest one should be overlooked, i kept a record of royal and notable families. was a man-child horn to any of them, i wrote down the minute of the hour of his birth, and how he was called. by visitations, i kept informed of the various countries, their conditions, and their relations with each other; for as the state of the earth points favorably or unfavorably to its vegetation, so do the conditions of nations indicate the approach of changes, and give encouragement to those predestined to bring the changes about. again i say, my lord, as the stars are the servants of god, they have their servants, whom you shall never know except as you are able to read the signs their times offer you for reading. moreover the servants are sometimes priests, sometimes soldiers, sometimes kings; among them have been women, and men of common origin; for the seed of genius falls directly from god's hand, and he chooses the time and field for the sowing; but whether high or low, white or black, good or bad, how shall a messenger interpret truly for the stars except by going before their elect, and introducing them, and making their paths smooth? must he not know them first?" a mighty impulsion here struck mahommed. recurring rather to what he had heard from mirza of the revelation dropped by the strange person met by him during the pilgrimage, he felt himself about to be declared of the elect, and unable to control his eagerness, he asked abruptly: "knowest thou me, o prince?" the manner of the mystic underwent a change. he had been deferential, even submissive; seldom a teacher so amiable and unmasterful; now he concentrated his power of spirit, and shot it a continuing flash from his large eyes. "know thee, lord mahommed?" he answered, in a low voice, but clear and searching, and best suited to the conflict he was ushering in--the conflict of spirit and spirit. "thou knowest not thyself as well." mahommed shrank perceptibly--he was astonished. "i mean not reference to thy father--nor to the christian princess, thy mother,--nor to thy history, which is of an obedient son and brave soldier,--nor to thy education, unusual in those born inheritors of royal power--i mean none of these, for they are in mouths everywhere, even of the beggars nursing their sores by the waysides.... in thy father's palace there was a commotion one night--thou wert about to be born. a gold-faced clock stood in the birth chamber, the gift of a german king, and from the door of the chamber eunuchs were stationed. exactly as the clock proclaimed midnight, mouth and mouth carried the cry to a man on the roof--'a prince is born! a prince is born! praised be allah!' he on the roof was seated at a table studying a paper with the signs of the zodiac in the usual formulary of a nativity. at the coming of the cry, he arose, and observed the heavens intently; then he shouted, 'there is no god but god! lo, mars, lord of the ascendant--mars, with his friends, saturn, venus, and jupiter in happy configuration, and the moon nowhere visible. hail the prince!' and while his answer was passing below, the man on the roof marked the planets in their houses exactly as they were that midnight between monday and tuesday in the year . have i in aught erred, my lord?" "in nothing, o prince." "then i proceed.... the nativity came to me, and i cast and recast it for the aspects, familiarities, parallels and triplicities of the hour, and always with the same result. i found the sun, the angles and the quality of the ambient signs favorable to a career which, when run, is to leave the east radiant with the glory of an unsetting sun." here the jew paused, and bowed--"now doth my lord doubt if i know him best?" chapter xiv dreams and visions mahommed sat awhile in deep abstraction, his face flushed, his hands working nervously in their own clasp. the subject possessing him was very pleasurable. how could it be else? on his side the prince waited deferentially, but very observant. he was confident of the impression made; he even thought he could follow the young turk's reflections point by point; still it was wisest to let him alone, for the cooling time of the sober second thought would come, and then how much better if there were room for him to believe the decision his own. "it is very well, prince," mahommed said, finally, struggling to keep down every sign of excitement. "i had accounts of you from mirza the emir, and it is the truth, which neither of us will be the worse of knowing, that i see nothing of disagreement in what he told me, and in what you now tell me of yourself. the conceptions i formed of you are justified: you are learned and of great experience; you are a good man given to charity as the prophet has ordered, and a believer in god. at various times in the world's history, if we may trust the writers, great men have had their greatness foretold them; now if i think myself in the way of addition to the list of those so fortunate, it is because i put faith in you as in a friendly prophet." at this the prince threw up both hands. "friendly am i, my lord, more than friendly, but not a prophet. i am only a messenger, an interpreter of the superior powers." much he feared the demands upon him if he permitted the impression that he was a prophet to go uncontradicted; as an astrologer, he could in need thrust the stars between him and the unreasonable. and his judgment was quickly affirmed. "as you will, o prince," said mahommed. "messenger, interpreter, prophet, whichever pleases you, the burden of what you bring me is nevertheless of chiefest account. comes a herald, we survey him, and ask voucher for his pretensions; are we satisfied with them, why then he gives place in our interest, and becomes secondary to the matter he bears. is it not so?" "it is righteously said, my lord." "and when i take up this which you have brought me"--mahommed laid a hand upon his throat as if in aid of the effort he was making to keep calm and talk with dignity--"i cannot deny its power; for when was there an imaginative young man who first permitted ambition and love of glory to build golden palaces for their abiding in his heart, with self-control to stop his ears to promises apparently from heaven? o prince, if you are indeed my friend, you will not laugh at me when you are alone!... moreover i would not you should believe your tidings received carelessly or as a morsel sweet on my tongue; but as wine warms to the blood coursing to the brain, it has started inquiries and anxieties you alone can allay. and first, the great glory whose running is to fill the east, like an unsetting sun, tell me of it; for, as we all know, glory is of various kinds; there is one kind reserved for poets, orators, and professors cunning in the arts, and another for cheer of such as find delight in swords and bossy shields, and armor well bedight, and in horses, and who exult in battle, and in setting armies afield, in changing boundary lines, and in taking rest and giving respite in the citadels of towns happily assaulted. and as of these the regard is various, tell me the kind mine is to be." "the stars speak not doubtfully, my lord. when mars rises ascendant in either of his houses, they that moment born are devoted to war, and, have they their bent, they shall be soldiers; nor soldiers merely, but as the conjunctions are good, conquerors, and fortunate, and samael, his angel, becomes their angel. has my lord ever seen his nativity?" "yes." "then he knows whereof i speak." mahommed nodded affirmatively, and said, "the fame is to my taste, doubt not; but, prince, were thy words duly weighed, then my glory is to be surpassing. now, i am of a line of heroes. othman, the founder; orchan, father of the janissaries; solyman, who accepted the crescent moon seen in a dream by the sea at cyzicus as allah's bidding to pass the hellespont to tzympe in europe; amurath, conqueror of adrianople; bajazet, who put an end to christian crusading in the field of nicopolis--these filled the east with their separate renowns; and my father amurath, did he not subdue hunyades? yet, prince, you tell me my glory is to transcend theirs. now--because i am ready to believe you--say if it is to burst upon me suddenly or to signalize a long career. the enjoyment of immortality won in youth must be a pleasant thing." "i cannot answer, my lord" "cannot?" and mahommed's eagerness came near getting the better of his will. "i have nothing from the stars by which to speak, and i dare not assume to reply for myself." then mahommed's eyes became severely bright, and the bones of his hands shone white through the skin, so hard did he compress them. "how long am i to wait before the glory you promise me ripens ready for gathering? if it requires long campaigns, shall i summon the armies now?" a tone, a stress of voice in the question sent a shiver through the prince despite his self-command. his gaze upon mahommed's countenance, already settled, intensified, and almost before the last word passed he saw the idea he was expected to satisfy, and that it was the point to which his interrogator had been really tending from the commencement of the interview. to gain a moment, he affected not to clearly understand; after a repetition, he in turn asked, with a meaning look: "is not thy father, o prince, now in his eighty-fifth year?" mahommed leaned further forward. "and is it not eight and twenty years since he began reigning wisely and well?" mahommed nodded assent. "suffer me to answer now. besides his age which pleads for him, your father has not allowed greatness and power to shade the love he gave you heartily the hour he first took you in his arms. nature protests against his cutting off, and in this instance, o prince, the voice of nature is the voice of allah. so say i speaking for myself." mahommed's face relaxed its hardness, and he moved and breathed freely while replying: "i do not know what the influences require of me." "speak you of the stars, my lord," the other returned, "hear me, and with distinctness. as yet they have intrusted me with the one prediction, and that you have. in other words, they are committed to a horoscope based upon your nativity, and from it your glory has been rightly delivered. so much is permitted us by the astrologic law we practise. but this now asked me, a circumstance in especial, appertains to you as chief of forces not yet yours. wherefore--heed well, my lord--i advise you to make note of the minute of the hour of the day you gird yourself with the sword of sovereignty which, at this speaking, is your great father's by sanction of heaven; then will i cast a horoscope for mahommed the sultan, not mahommed, son of amurath merely--then, by virtue of my office of interpreter of the stars, having the proper writing in my hand, i will tell you this you now seek, together with all else pertaining to your sovereignty intrusted me for communication. i will tell you when the glory is open to you, and the time for setting forward to make it yours--even the dawning of the term of preparation necessarily precedent to the movement itself. now am i understood? will my lord tell me i am understood?" an observation here may not be amiss. the reader will of course notice the clever obtrusion of the stars in the speech; yet its real craft was in the reservations covered. presuming it possible for the prince to have fixed a time to mahommed's satisfaction, telling it would have been like giving away the meat of an apple, and retaining the rind. the wise man who sets out to make himself a need to another will carefully husband his capital. moreover it is of importance to keep in mind through this period of our story that with the prince of india everything was subsidiary to his scheme of unity in god. to which end it was not enough to be a need to mahommed; he must also bring the young potentate to wait upon him for the signal to begin the movement against constantinople; for such in simplicity was the design scarcely concealed under the glozing of "the east against the west." that is to say, until he knew constantine's disposition with respect to the superlative project, his policy was delay. what, in illustration, if the emperor proved a friend? in falconry the hawk is carried into the field hooded, and cast off only when the game is flushed. so the prince of india thought as he concluded his speech, and looked at the handsome face of the lord mahommed. the latter was disappointed, and showed it. he averted his eyes, knit his brows, and took a little time before answering; then a flash of passion seized him. "with all thy wisdom, prince, thou knowest not how hard waiting will be. there is nothing in nature sweeter than glory, and on the other hand nothing so intolerably bitter as hungering for it when it is in open prospect. what irony in the providence which permits us to harvest greatness in the days of our decline! i dream of it for my youth, for then most can be made of it. there was a greek--not of the byzantine breed in the imperial kennel yonder"--he emphasized the negative with a contemptuous glance in the direction of constantinople--"a greek of the old time of real heroes, he who has the first place in history as a conqueror. think you he was happy because he owned the world? delight in property merely, a horse, a palace, a ship, a kingdom, is vulgar: any man can be owner of something; the beggar polishes his crutch for the same reason the king gilds his throne--it belongs to him. possession means satiety. but achieve thou immortality in thy first manhood, and it shall remain to thee as the ring to a bride or as his bride to the bridegroom.--let it be as you say. i bow to the stars. between me and the sovereignty my father stands, a good man to whom i give love for love; and he shall not be disturbed by me or any of mine. in so far i will honor your advice; and in the other matter also, there shall be one ready to note the minute of the hour the succession falls to me. but what if then you are absent?" "a word from my lord will bring me to him; and his majesty is liable to go after his fathers at any moment"-- "ay, and alas!" mahommed interposed, with unaffected sorrow, "a king may keep his boundaries clean, and even extend them thitherward from the centre, and be a fear unto men; yet shall death oblige him at last. all is from god." the prince was courtier enough to respect the feeling evinced. "but i interrupted you," mahommed presently added. "i pray pardon." "i was about to say, my lord, if i am not with you when his majesty, your father, bows to the final call--for the entertainment of such was paradise set upon its high hill!--let a messenger seek me in constantinople; and it may even serve well if the governor of this castle be instructed to keep his gates always open to me, and himself obedient to my requests." "a good suggestion! i will attend to it. but"-- again he lapsed into abstraction, and the prince held his peace watchfully. "prince," mahommed said at length, "it is not often i put myself at another's bidding, for freedom to go where one pleases is not more to a common man than is freedom to do what pleases him to a sovereign; yet so will i with you in this matter; and as is the custom of moslems setting out on a voyage i say of our venture, 'in the name of god be its courses and its moorings.' that settled, hearken further. what you have given me is not all comprehensible. as i understand you, i am to find the surpassing glory in a field of war. tell me, lies the field far or near? where is it? and who is he i am to challenge? there will be room and occasion for combat around me everywhere, or, if the occasion exist not, my spahis in a day's ride can make one. there is nothing stranger than how small a cause suffices us to set man against man, life or death. but--and now i come to the very difficulty--looking here and there i cannot see a war new in any respect, either of parties, or objects, or pretence, out of which such a prodigious fame is to be plucked. you discern the darkness in which i am groping. light, o prince--give me light!" for an instant the mind of the jew, sown with subtlety as a mine with fine ore, was stirred with admiration of the quality so strikingly manifested in this demand; but collecting himself, he said, calmly, for the question had been foreseen: "my lord was pleased to say a short while ago that the emir mirza, on his return from the hajj, told him of me. did mirza tell also of my forbidding him to say anything of the predictions i then intrusted him?" "yes," mahommed answered, smiling, "and i have loved him for the disobedience. he satisfied me to whom he thought his duty was first owing." "well, if evil ensue from the disclosure, it may be justly charged to my indiscretion. let it pass--only, in reporting me, did not mirza say, lord mahommed, that the prohibition i laid upon him proceeded from a prudent regard for your interests?" "yes." "and in speaking of the change in the status of the world i then announced, and of the refluent wave the east was to pour upon the west"-- "and of the doom of constantinople!" mahommed cried, in a sudden transport of excitement. "ay, and of the hero thou wert to be, my lord! said he nothing of the other caution i gave him, how absolute verity could only be had by a recast of the horoscope at the city itself? and how i was even then on my way thither?" "truly, o prince. mirza is a marvel!" "thanks, my lord. the assurance prepares me to answer your last demand." then, lowering his voice, the prince returned to his ordinary manner. "the glory you are to look for will not depend upon conditions such as parties to the war, or its immediate cause, or the place of its wagement." mahommed listened with open mouth. "my lord knows of the dispute long in progress between the pope of rome and the patriarch of constantinople; one claiming to be the head of the church of christ, the other insisting on his equality. the dispute, my lord also knows, has been carried from east to west, and back and back again, prelate replying to prelate, until the whole church is falling to pieces, and on every christian tongue the 'church east' and the 'church west' are common as morning salutations." mahommed nodded. "now, my lord," the prince continued, the magnetic eyes intensely bright, "you and i know the capital of christianity is yonder "--he pointed toward constantinople--"and that conquering it is taking from christ and giving to mahomet. what more of definition of thy glory wilt thou require? thus early i salute thee a sword of god." mahommed sprang from his couch, and strode the floor, frequently clapping his hands. upon the passing of the ecstasy, he stopped in front of the prince. "i see it now--the feat of arms impossible to my father reserved for me." again he walked, clapping his hands. "i pray your pardon," he said, when the fit was over. "in my great joy i interrupted you." "i regret to try my lord's patience further," the prince answered, with admirable diplomacy. "it were better, however, to take another step in the explanation now. a few months after separating from mirza in mecca, i arrived in constantinople, and every night since, the heavens being clear, i have questioned the stars early and late. i cannot repeat to my lord all the inquiries i made of them, so many were they, and so varied in form, nor the bases i laid hold of for horoscopes, each having, as i hoped, to do with the date of the founding of the city. what calculations i have made--tables of figures to cover the sky with a tapestry of algebraic and geometrical symbols: the walks of astrology are well known--i mean those legitimate--nevertheless in my great anxiety, i have even ventured into the arcana of magic forbidden to the faithful. the seven good angels, and the seven bad, beginning with jubanladace, first of the good, a celestial messenger, helmeted, sworded with flame, and otherwise beautiful to behold, and ending with barman, the lowest of the bad, the consort and ally of witches--i besought them all for what they could tell me. is the time of the running of the city now, to-morrow, next week--when? such the burden of my inquiry. as yet, my lord, no answer has been given. i am merely bid keep watch on the schism of the church. in some way the end we hope has connection with that rancor, if, indeed, it be not the grand result. with clear discernment of the tendencies, the roman pontiff is striving to lay the quarrel; but he speaks to a rising tide. we cannot hasten the event; neither can he delay it. our role is patience--patience. at last europe will fall away, and leave the greek to care of himself; then, my lord, you have but to be ready. the end is in the throes of its beginning now." "still you leave me in the dark," mahommed cried, with a frown. "nay, my lord, there is a chance for us to make the stars speak." the beguiler appeared to hesitate. "a chance?" mahommed asked. "it is dependent, my lord." "upon what?" "the life of the sultan, thy father." "speak not in riddles, o prince." "upon his death, thou wilt enter on the sovereignty." "still i see not clearly." "with the horoscope of mahommed the sultan in my hand, then certainly as the stars perform their circuits, being set thereunto from the first morning, they must respond to me; and then, find i mars in the ascendant, well dignified essentially and accidentally, i can lead my lord out of the darkness." "then, prince?" "he may see the christian capital at his mercy." "but if mars be not in the ascendant?" "my lord must wait." mahommed sprang to his feet, gnashing his teeth. "my lord," said the prince, calmly, "a man's destiny is never unalterable; it is like a pitcher filled with wine which he is carrying to his lips--it may be broken on the way, and its contents spilled. such has often happened through impatience and pride. what is waiting but the wise man's hour of preparation?" the quiet manner helped the sound philosophy. mahommed took seat, remarking, "you remind me, prince, of the saying of the koran, 'whatsoever good betideth thee, o man, it is from god, and whatsoever evil betideth, from thyself is it.' i am satisfied. only"-- the prince summoned all his faculties again. "only i see two periods of waiting before me; one from this until i take up the sovereignty; the other thence till thou bringest me the mandate of the stars. i fear not the second period, for, as thou sayest, i can then lose myself in making ready; but the first, the meantime--ah, prince, speak of it. tell me how i can find surcease of the chafing of my spirit." the comprehension of the wily hebrew did not fail him. his heart beat violently. he was master! once more he was in position to change the world. a word though not more than "now," and he could marshal the east, which he so loved, against the west, which he so hated. if constantinople failed him, christianity must yield its seat to islam. he saw it all flash-like; yet at no time in the interview did his face betoken such placidity of feeling. the _meantime_ was his, not mahommed's--his to lengthen or shorten--his for preparation. he could afford to be placid. "there is much for my lord to do," he said. "when, o prince--now?" "it is for him to think and act as if constantinople were his capital temporarily in possession of another." the words caught attention, and it is hard saying what mahommed's countenance betokened. the reader must think of him as of a listener just awakened to a new idea of infinite personal concern. "it is for him now to learn the city within and without," the jew proceeded; "its streets and edifices; its halls and walls; its strong and weak places; its inhabitants, commerce, foreign relations; the character of its ruler, his resources and policies; its daily events; its cliques and clubs, and religious factions; especially is it for him to foment the differences latin and greek." it is questionable if any of the things imparted had been so effective upon mahommed as this one. not only did his last doubt of the man talking disappear; it excited a boundless admiration for him, and the freshest novitiate in human nature knows how almost impossible it is to refuse trust when once we have been brought to admire. "oh!" mahommed cried. "a pastime, a pastime, if i could be there!" "nay, my lord," said the insidious counsellor, with a smile, "how do kings manage to be everywhere at the same time?" "they have their ambassadors. but i am not a king." "not yet a king"--the speaker laid stress upon the adverb--"nevertheless public representation is one thing; secret agency another." mahommed's voice sank almost to a whisper. "wilt thou accept this agency?" "it is for me to observe the heavens at night, while calculations will take my days. i trust my lord in his wisdom will excuse me." "where is one for the service? name him, prince--one as good." "there is one better. bethink you, my lord, the business is of a long time; it may run through years." mahommed's brow knit darkly at the reminder. "and he who undertakes it should enter constantinople and live there above suspicion. he must be crafty, intelligent, courtly in manner, accomplished in arms, of high rank, and with means to carry his state bravely, for not only ought he to be conspicuous in the hippodrome; he should be welcome in the palace. along with other facilities, he must be provided to buy service in the emperor's bedroom and council chamber--nay, at his elbow. it is of prime importance that he possesses my lord's confidence unalterably. am i understood?" "the man, prince, the man!" "my lord has already named him." "i?" "only to-night my lord spoke of him as a marvel." "mirza!" exclaimed mahommed, clapping his hands. "mirza," the prince returned, and proceeded without pause: "despatch him to italy; then let him appear in constantinople, embarked from a galley, habited like a roman, and with a suitable italian title. he speaks italian already, is fixed in his religion, and in knightly honor. not all the gifts at the despot's disposal, nor the blandishments of society can shake his allegiance--he worships my lord." "my servant has found much favor with you, o prince?" accepting the remark as a question, the other answered: "did i not spend the night with him at el zaribah? was i not witness of his trial of faith at the holy kaaba? have i not heard from my lord himself how, when put to choice, he ignored my prohibition respecting the stars?" mahommed arose, and again walked to and fro. "there is a trouble in this proposal, prince," he said, halting abruptly. "so has mirza become a part of me, i am scarcely myself without him." another turn across the floor, and he seemed to become reconciled. "let us have done for to-night," he next said. "the game is imperative, but it will not be harmed by a full discussion. stay with me to-morrow, prince." the prince remembered the emperor. not unlikely a message from that high personage was at his house, received in course of the day. "true, very true, and the invitation is a great honor to me," he replied, bowing; "but i am reminded that the gossips in byzantium will feast each other when to-morrow it passes from court to bazaar how the princess irene and the prince of india were driven by the storm to accept hospitality in the white castle. and if it get abroad, that mahommed, son of the great amurath, came also to the castle, who may foretell the suspicions to hatch in the city? no, my lord, i submit it is better for me to depart with the princess at the subsidence of the waters." "be it so," mahommed returned, cordially. "we understand each other. i am to wait and you to communicate with me; and now, morning comes apace, good night." he held his hand to the jew; whereat the latter knelt and kissed the hand, but retained it to say: "my lord, if i know him rightly, will not sleep to-night; thought is an enemy to sleep; and besides the inspiration there is in the destiny promised, its achievement lies all before him. yet i wish to leave behind me one further topic, promising it is as much greater than any other as the heavens are higher than the earth." "rise, prince," said mahommed, helping him to his feet. "such ceremonious salutation whether in reception or at departure may be dispensed with hereafter; thou art not a stranger, but more than a guest. i count thee my friend whom everything shall wait upon--even myself. speak now of what thou callest the greater scheme. i am most curious." there was a silence while one might count ten slowly. the jew in that space concentrated the mysterious force of which he was master in great store, so it shone in his eyes, gave tone to his voice, and was an outgoing of will in overwhelming current. "lord mahommed," he said, "i know you are a believer in god." the young turk was conscious of a strange thrill passing through him from brain to body. "in nature and every quality the god of the jew, the christian, and the moslem is the same. take we their own sayings. christ and mahomet were witnesses sent to testify of him first, highest and alone--him the universal father. yet behold the perversity of man. god has been deposed, and for ages believers in him have been divided amongst themselves; wherefore hate, jealousies, wars, battle and the smoke of slaughter perpetually. but now is he at last minded to be restored. hear, lord mahommed, hear with soul and mortal ear!" the words and manner caught and exalted mahommed's spirit. as michael, with a sweep of his wings, is supposed to pass the nether depths, an impulsion bore the son of amurath up to a higher and clearer plane. he could not but hear. "be it true now that god permits his presence to be known in human affairs only when he has a purpose to justify his interposition; then, as we dare not presume the capital of christendom goes to its fall without his permission, why your designation for the mighty work? that you may be personally glorified, my lord? look higher. see yourself his chosen instrument--and this the deed! from the seat of the caesars, its conquest an argument, he means you to bring men together in his name. titles may remain--jew, moslem, christian, buddhist--but there shall be an end of wars for religion--all mankind are to be brethren in him. this the deed, my lord--unity in god, and from it, a miracle of the ages slow to come but certain, the evolution of peace and goodwill amongst men. i leave the idea with you. good night!" mahommed remained so impressed and confounded that the seer was permitted to walk out as from an empty room. mirza received him outside the door. chapter xv departure from the white castle the storm continued till near daybreak. at sunrise the wind abated, and was rapidly succeeded by a dead calm; about the same time the last cloud disappeared, leaving the sky an azure wonder, and the shores of the bosphorus far and near refreshed and purified. after breakfast, mirza conducted the prince of india to another private audience with mahommed. as the conference had relation to the subjects gone over in the night, the colloquy may be dispensed with, and only the conclusions given. mahommed admitted he had not been able to sleep; in good spirits, however, he agreed, if the prince were accountable for the wakefulness, he was to be forgiven, since he had fairly foretold it, and, like other prophets, was entitled to immunity. the invitation to remain at the castle was renewed, and again declined. mahommed next conceded the expediency of his waiting to hear what further the stars might say with respect to the great business before him, and voluntarily bound himself to passive conduct and silence; in assuagement of the impatience he knew would torment him, he insisted, however, upon establishing a line of couriers between his place of residence, wherever it might be, and the white castle. intelligence could thus be safely transmitted him from constantinople. in furtherance of this object the governor of the castle would be instructed to honor the requests of the prince of india. mahommed condescended next to approve the suggestion of a secret agency in constantinople. respecting a person for the service, the delicacy of which was conceded, he had reached the conclusion that there was no one subject to his control so fitted in every respect as mirza. the selection of the emir might prove troublesome since he was a favorite with the sultan; if investigations consequent on his continued absence were instituted, there was danger of their resulting in disagreeable exposure; nevertheless the venture was worth the while, and as time was important, the emir should be sent off forthwith under instructions in harmony with the prince's advice. or more clearly, he was to betake himself to italy immediately, and thence to the greek capital, a nobleman amply provided with funds for his maintenance there in essential state and condition. his first duty when in the city should be to devise communication with the white castle, where connection with the proposed line of couriers should be made for safe transmission of his own reports, and such intelligence as the prince should from time to time consider it advisable to forward. this of course contemplated recognition and concert between the emir and the prince. in token of his confidence in the latter, mahommed would constitute him the superior in cases of difference of opinion; though from his knowledge of mirza's romantic affection acquired in mecca and on the road thither, he had little apprehension of such a difference. mahommed and the prince were alike well satisfied with the conclusions between them, and their leave-taking at the end of the audience was marked with a degree of affection approaching that of father and son. about mid-afternoon the prince and sergius sallied from the castle to observe the water, and finding it quiet, they determined to embark. the formalities of reception in the castle were not less rigidly observed at the departure. in care of the eunuch the princess and lael descended to the hall of entrance where they were received by the supposed governor, who was in armor thoroughly cleansed of dust and skilfully furbished. his manner was even more gallant and dignified. he offered his hand to assist the princess to seat in the chair, and upon taking it she glanced furtively at his face, but the light was too scant for a distinct view. in the castle and out there were no spectators. passing the gate, the princess bethought her of the story-teller, and looked for him well as she could through the narrow windows. at the landing, when the governor had in silence, though with ease and grace, helped her from the carriage, the porters being withdrawn, she proceeded to acknowledgments. "i am sorry," she said, through her veil, "that i must depart without knowing the name or rank of my host." "had i greater rank. o princess," he returned, gravely. "i should have pleasure in introducing myself; for then there would be a hope that my name supported by a title of dignity, would not be erased from your memory by the gayeties of the city to which you are going. the white castle is a command suitable to one of humble grade, and to be saluted governor, because i am charged with its keeping, satisfies my pride for the present. it is a convenient title, moreover, should you ever again honor me with a thought or a word." "i submit perforce," she said. "yet, sir governor, your name would have saved me from the wonder of my kinsman, if not his open question, when, as i am bound to, i tell him of the fair treatment and high courtesy you have shown me and my friends here while in refuge in your castle walls. he knows it natural for the recipient of bounty to learn who the giver is, with name and history; but how amazed and displeased he will be when i barely describe your entertainment. indeed, i fear he will think me guilty of over description or condemn me for ingratitude." she saw the blood color his face, and noticed the air of sincerity with which he replied. "princess, if payment for what you have received at my hands were worthy a thought, i should say now, and all my days through, down to the very latest, that to have heard you speak so graciously is an overprice out of computation." the veil hid her responsive blush; for there was something in his voice and manner, possibly the earnestness marking them, which lifted the words out of the commonplace and formal. she could not but see how much more he left implied than actually expressed. for relief, she turned to another subject. "if i may allude to a part of your generous attention, sir governor, distinguishing it from the whole, i should like to admit the pleasure had from the recitation of the arabian story-teller. i will not ask his name; still it must be a great happiness to traverse the world with welcome everywhere, and everywhere and all the time accompanied and inspired by a mind stored with themes and examples beautiful as the history of el hatim." a light singularly bright shone in the governor's eyes, significant of a happy idea, and with more haste than he had yet evinced, he replied: "o princess, the name of the arab is aboo-obeidah; in the desert they call him the singing sheik, and among moslems, city bred and tent born alike, he is great and beloved. such is his sanctity that all doors he knocks at open to him, even those of harems zealously guarded. when he arrives at adrianople, in his first day there he will be conducted to the hanoum of the sultan, and at her signal the ladies of the household will flock to hear him. now, would it please you, i will prevail on him to delay his journey that he may visit you at your palace." "the adventure might distress him," she replied. "say not so. in such a matter i dare represent and pledge him. only give me where you would have him come, and the time, o princess, and he will be there, not a star in the sky more constant." "with my promise of good welcome to him then," she said, well pleased, "be my messenger, sir governor, and say in the morning day after to-morrow at my palace by therapia. and now thanks again, and farewell." so saying she held her hand to him, and he kissed it, and assisted her into the boat. the adieux of the others, the prince of india, sergius and lael, were briefer. the governor was polite to each of them; at the same time, his eyes, refusing restraint, wandered to where the princess sat looking at him with unveiled face. in the mouth of the river the boats were brought together, and, while drifting, she expressed the pleasure she had from the fortunate meeting with the prince; his presence, she doubted not, contributed greatly to the good conclusion of what in its beginning seemed so unpromising. "nor can i convey an idea of the confidence and comfortable feeling i derived from the society of thy daughter," she added, speaking to the prince, but looking at lael. "she was courageous and sensible, and i cannot content myself until she is my guest at therapia." "i would be greatly pleased," lael said, modestly. "will the princess appoint a time?" the wanderer asked. "to-morrow--or next week--at your convenience. these warm months are delightful in the country by the water side. at therapia, prince--thou and thine. the blessing of the saints go with you--farewell." then though the boats kept on down toward constantinople, they separated, and in good time the prince of india and lael were at home; while the princess carried sergius to her palace in the city. next day, having provided him with the habit approved by metropolitan greek priests, she accompanied him to the patriarchal residence, introduced him with expressions of interest, and left him in the holy keeping. sergius was accepted and rated a neophyte, the vanity of the byzantine clergy scorning thought of excellence in a russian provincial. he entered upon the life, however, with humility and zeal, governed by a friendly caution from the princess. "remember," she said to him, as they paused on the patriarchal doorsteps for permission to enter, "remember father hilarion is regarded here as a heretic. the stake, imprisonment in darkness for life, the lions in the cynegion, punishment in some form of approved cruelty awaits a follower of his by open avowal. patience then; and when endurance is tried most, and you feel it must break, come to me at therapia. only hold yourself in readiness, by reading and thought, to speak for our christian faith unsullied by human inventions, and bide my signal." and so did he observe everything and venture nothing that presently he was on the road to high favor. chapter xvi an embassy to the princess irene when the princess irene returned to therapia next day, she found awaiting her the dean of the court, an official of great importance to whom the settlement of questions pertinent to rank was confided. the state barge of fifteen oars in which he arrived was moored to the marbles of the quay in front of her palace, a handsomely ornamented vessel scarcely needing its richly liveried rowers to draw about it the curious and idle of the town in staring groups. at sight of it, the princess knew there was a message for her from the emperor. she lost no time in notifying the dean of her readiness to receive him. the interview took place in the reception room. the dean was a venerable man who, having served acceptably through the preceding reign, was immensely discreet, and thoroughly indurate with formalism and ceremony; wherefore, passing his speech and manner, it is better worth the while to give, briefly as may be, the substance of the communication he brought to the princess. he was sure she remembered all the circumstances of the coronation of his majesty, the emperor, and of his majesty's entry into constantinople; he was not so certain, however, of her information touching some matters distinguishable as domestic rather than administrative. or she might know of them, but not reliably. thus she might not have heard authentically that, immediately upon his becoming settled in the imperial seat, his majesty decided it of first importance to proceed to the selection of a spouse. the dean then expatiated on the difficulty of finding in all the world a woman suitable for the incomparable honor. so many points entered into the consideration--age, appearance, rank, education, religion, dowry, politics--upon each of which he dwelt with the gravity of a philosopher, the assurance of a favorite, and the garrulity of age. having at length presented the problem, and, he thought, sufficiently impressed the princess with its unexampled intricacies and perils, he next unfolded the several things resolved upon and attempted in the way of solution. every royal house in the west had been searched for its marriageable females. at one time a daughter of the doge of venice was nearly chosen. unfortunately there were influential greeks of greater pride than judgment to object to the doge. he was merely an elective chief. he might die the very day after celebrating the espousals, and then--not even the ducal robes were inheritable. no, the flower to deck the byzantine throne was not in the west. thereupon the east was explored. for a time the election trembled between a princess of trebizond and a princess of georgia. as usual the court divided on the question, when, to quiet the factions, his majesty ordered phranza, the grand chamberlain, a courtier of learning and diplomatic experience, who held the emperor's confidence in greater degree than any other court official, unless it might be the dean himself, to go see the rivals personally, and report with recommendation. the ambassador had been gone two years. from georgia he had travelled to trebizond; still nothing definite. the embassy, having been outfitted in a style to adequately impress the semi-barbarians, was proving vastly expensive. his majesty, with characteristic wisdom, had determined to take the business in his own keeping. there were many noble families in constantinople. why not seek a consort among them? the scheme had advantages; not least, if a byzantine could be found, the emperor would have the happiness of making the discovery and conducting the negotiations himself--in common parlance, of doing his own courting. there might be persons, the dean facetiously remarked, who preferred trusting the great affair of wife-choosing to ambassadors, but he had never seen one of them. the ground covered by the ancient in his statement is poorly represented by these paragraphs, ample as they may seem to the reader. indeed, the sun was falling swiftly into the lap of night when he thought of concluding. meantime the princess listened silently, her patience sustained by wonder at what it all meant. the enlightenment at last came. "now, my dear princess," he said, lowering his voice, "you must know "--he arose, and, as became one so endued with palace habits, peered cautiously around. "be seated, my lord," she said; "there are no eyes in my doors nor ears in my walls." "oh, the matter is of importance--a state secret!" he drew the stool nearer her. "you must know, dear princess, that the grand chamberlain, phranza, has been negligent and remiss in the time he has consumed, saying nothing of his lavishment of treasure so badly needed at home. notaras, the admiral, and the grand domestic, are both pursuing his majesty vigorously for funds and supplies; worse still, the patriarch lets slip no opportunity to bid him look at the furniture of the churches going to ruin. the imperial conscience being tender in whatever pertains to god and religion, he has little peace left for prayers. wherefore, there are of us who think it would be loyalty to help secure a bride for his majesty at home, and thus make an end to the wasteful and inconclusive touring of phranza." the dean drew yet nearer the princess, and reduced his voice to a tone slightly above a whisper. "now you must know further--i am the author and suggestor of the idea of his majesty's choosing an empress from the many noble and beautiful dames and maidens of this our ancient city of byzantium, in every respect the equals, and in many points mentionable the superiors of the best foreigner possible of finding." the dean pursed his white-bearded mouth, and posed himself proudly; but his auditor still holding her peace, he leaned forward further, and whispered, "my dear princess, i did more. i mentioned you to his majesty"-- the princess started to her feet, whiter than whitest marble in the pentelic panelling of the room; yet in total misapprehension of her feeling, the venerable intriguant went on without pause: "yes, i mentioned you to his majesty, and to-morrow, princess--to-morrow--he will come here in person to see you, and urge his suit." he dropped on his knees, and catching her hand, kissed it. "o princess, fairest and most worthy, suffer me first of all the court to congratulate you on the superlative honor to which you will he invited. and when you are in the exalted position, may i hope to be remembered"-- he was not permitted to finish the petition. withdrawing her hand with decisive action, she bade him be silent or speak to her questions. and he was silent through surprise. in such manner she gained an interval for thought. the predicament, as she saw it, was troublesome and unfortunate. honor was intended her, the highest in the imperial gift, and the offer was coming with never a doubt of its instantaneous and grateful acceptance. remembering her obligations to the emperor, her eyes filled with tears. she respected and venerated him, yet could not be his empress. the great title was not a sufficient inducement. but how manage the rejection? she called on the virgin for help. directly there was a way exposed. first, she must save her benefactor from rejection; second, the dean and the court must never know of the course of the affair or its conclusion. "rise, my lord," she said, kindly though with firmness. "the receiver of great news, i thank you, and promise, if ever i attain the throne to hold you in recollection. but now, so am i overwhelmed by the prospect, i am not myself. indeed, my lord, would you increase my indebtedness to its utmost limit, take every acknowledgment as said, and leave me--leave me for preparation for the morrow's event. god, his son and angels only know the awfulness of my need of right direction and good judgment." he had the wit to see her agitation, and that it was wisest for him to depart. "i will go, princess," he said, "and may the holy mother give you of her wisdom also." she detained him at the door to ask: "only tell me, my lord, did his majesty send you with this notice?" "his majesty honored me with the message." "at what hour will he come?" "in the forenoon." "report, i pray you then, that my house will be at his service." chapter xvii the emperor's wooing about ten o'clock the day following the extraordinary announcement given, a galley of three banks of oars, classed a _trireme_, rounded the seaward jut of the promontory overhanging the property of the princess irene at therapia. the hull of the vessel was highly ornate with gilding and carving. at the how, for figure-head, there was an image of the madonna of the _panagia_, or holy banner of constantinople. the broad square sail was of cherry-red color, and in excellent correspondence, the oars, sixty to a side, were painted a flaming scarlet. when filled, the sail displayed a greek cross in golden filament. the deck aft was covered with a purple awning, in the shade of which, around a throne, sat a grave and decorous company in gorgeous garments; and among them moved a number of boys, white-shirted and bare of head, dispensing perfume from swinging censers. forward, a body guard, chosen from the household troops and full armed, were standing at ease, and they, with a corps of trumpeters and heralds in such splendor of golden horns and tabards of gold as to pour enrichment over the whole ship, filled the space from bulwark to bulwark. the emperor occupied the throne. this galley, to which the harmonious movement of the oars gave a semblance of life, in the distance reminding one of a great bird fantastically feathered and in slow majestic motion, was no sooner hove in sight than the townspeople were thrown into ferment. a flotilla of small boats, hastily launched, put out in racing order to meet and escort it into the bay, and before anchorage was found, the whole shore was astir and in excited babblement. a detachment of the guard was first landed on the quay in front of the princess' gate. accepting the indication, thither rushed the populace; for in truth, since the occupation of the asiatic shore of the bosphorus by the turks, the emperor seldom extended his voyages far as therapia. then, descending the sides by carpeted stairs, the suite disembarked, and after them, amidst a tremendous flourish from the trumpet corps, constantine followed. the emperor, in his light boat, remained standing during the passage to the shore that he might be seen by the people; and as he then appeared, helmed and in close-fitting cuirass, his arms in puffed sleeves of red silk, his legs, below a heavily embroidered narrow skirt, clothed in pliant chain mail intricately linked, his feet steel-shod, a purple cloak hanging lightly at the back from neck to heel, and spurred and magnificently sworded, and all agleam with jewels and gold, it must be conceded he justified his entitlement. at sight of his noble countenance, visible under the raised visor, the spectators lifted their voices in hearty acclamations--"god and constantine! live the emperor!" it really seemed as if the deadly factiousness of the capital had not reached therapia. in the lifted head, the brightened eyes, the gracious though stately bows cast right and left, constantine published the pleasure the reception was giving him. a long flourish timed his march through the kiosk of the gate, and along the shell-strewn, winding road, to the broad steps leading to the portico of the palace; there, ascending first, he was received by the princess. amid a group of maids in attendance, all young, fair, high-born, she stood, never more tastefully attired, never more graceful and self-possessed, never more lovely, not even in childhood before the flitting of its virginal bloom; and though the portico was garden-like in decoration, vines, roses and flowering shrubs everywhere, the sovereign had eyes for her alone. just within the line of fluted pillars he halted, and drew himself up, smiling as became a suitor, yet majestic as became a king. then she stepped forward, and knelt, and kissed his hand, and when he helped her to her feet, and before the flush on her forehead was gone, she said: "thou art my sovereign and benefactor; nor less for the goodnesses thou hast done to thy people, and art constantly doing, welcome, o my lord, to the house thou didst give me." "speak not so," he replied. "or if it please thee to give me credit, be it for the things which in some way tried me, not those i did for reward." "reward!" "ay, for such are pleasure and peace of mind." then one by one, she naming them as they advanced, her attendants knelt, and kissed the floor in front of him, and had each a pleasant word, for he permitted none to excel him in decorous gallantry to good women. in return, he called the officers of his company according to their rank; his brother, who had afterward the grace to die with him; the grand domestic, general of the army; the grand duke notaras, admiral of the navy; the grand equerry (_protostrator_); the grand chancellor of the empire (_logothete_); the superintendent of finance; the governor of the palace (_curopalate_); the keeper of the purple ink; the keeper of the secret seal; the first valet; the chief of the night guard (_grand drumgaire_); the chief of the huntsmen (_protocynege_); the commander of the body guard of foreigners (_acolyte_); the professor of philosophy; the professor of elocution and rhetoric; the attorney general (_nornophylex_); the chief falconer (_protojeracaire_) and others--these he called one by one, and formally presented to the princess, not minding that with many of them she was already acquainted. they were for the most part men advanced in years, and right well skilled in the arts of courtiership. the _empressement_ of manner with which they saluted her was not lost upon her woman's instinct; infinitely quick and receptive, she knew without a word spoken, that each left his salute on her hand believing it the hand of his future empress. last of those presented was the dean of the court. he was noticeably formal and distant; besides being under the eye of his master, the wily diplomat was more doubtful of the outcome of the day's visit than most of his colleagues. "now," the princess said, when the presentation was finished, "will my most noble sovereign suffer me to conduct him to the reception room?" the emperor stepped to her side, and offered his hand. "pardon, sire," she added, taking the hand. "it is necessary that i speak to the dean." and when the worthy came to her, she said to him: "beyond this, under the portico, are refreshments for his majesty's suite. serve me, i pray, by leading thy colleagues thither, and representing me at the tables. command the servants whom thou wilt find there." now the reader must not suppose he is having in the foregoing descriptions examples of the style of ceremonials most in fashion at the greek court. had formality been intended, the affair would have been the subject of painstaking consideration at a meeting of officials in the imperial residence, and every point within foresight arranged; after which the revolution of the earth might have quickened, and darkness been unnaturally precipitated, without inducing the slightest deviation from the programme. when resolving upon the visit, constantine considerately thought of the princess' abhorrence of formality, and not to surprise her, despatched the dean with notice of the honor intended. whereupon she arranged the reception to suit herself; that is, so as to remain directress of the occasion. hence the tables under the portico for the entertainment of the great lords, with the garden open to them afterward. this management, it will be perceived, left constantine in her separate charge. so, while the other guests went with the dean, she conducted the emperor to the reception room, where there were no flowers, and but one armless chair. when he was seated, the two alone, she knelt before him, and without giving him time to speak, said, her hands crossed upon her bosom: "i thank my lord for sending me notice of his coming, and of his purpose to invite me to share his throne. all night i have kept the honor he intended me in mind, believing the blessed mother would listen to my prayers for wisdom and right direction; and the peace and confidence i feel, now that i am at my lord's feet, must be from her.... oh, my lord, the trial has not been what i should do with the honor, but how to defend you from humiliation in the eyes of your court. i wish to be at the same time womanly and allegiant. how gentle and merciful you have been to me! how like a benignant god to my poor father! if i am in error, may heaven forgive me; but i have led you here to say, without waiting for the formal proposal, that while you have my love as a kinswoman and subject, i cannot give you the love you should have from a wife." constantine was astonished. "what!" he said. before he could get further, she continued, sinking lower at his feet: "ah me, my lord, if now thou art thinking me bold and forward, and outcast from natural pride, what can i but plead the greater love i bear you as my benefactor and sovereign? ... it may be immodest to thus forestall my lord's honorable intent, and decline being his wife before he has himself proposed it; yet i pray him to consider that with this avowal from me, he may go hence and affirm, god approving the truth, that he thought better of his design, and did not make me any overture of marriage, and there will be no one to suffer but me.... the evil-minded will talk, and judge me punished for my presumption. against them i shall always have a pure conscience, and the knowledge of having rescued my lord from an associate on his throne who does not love him with wifely devotion." pausing there, the princess looked into his face, her own suffused. his head drooped; insomuch that the tall helmet with its glitter, and the cuirass, and fine mail reenforced by the golden spurs and jewelled sword and sword-harness, but deepened the impression of pain bewrayed on his countenance. "then it is as i have heard," he said, dejectedly. "the rustic hind may have the mate of his choice, and there is preference allowed the bird and wild wolf. the eye of faith beholds marriages of love in meeting waters and in clouds brought together from diverse parts. only kings are forbidden to select mates as their hearts declare. i, a master of life and death, cannot woo, like other men." the princess moved nearer him. "my lord," she said, earnestly, "is it not better to be denied choice than to be denied after choosing?" "speakest thou from experience?" he asked. "no," she answered, "i have never known love except of all god's creatures alike." "whence thy wisdom then?" "perhaps it is only a whisper of pride." "perhaps, perhaps! i only know the pain it was intended to relieve goes on." then, regarding her moodily, not angrily, nor even impatiently, he continued: "did i not know thee true as thou art fair, o princess, and good and sincere as thou art brave, i might suspect thee." "of what, my lord?" "of an intent to compass my misery. thou dost stop my mouth. i may not declare the purpose with which i came--i to whom it was of most interest--or if i do, i am forestopped saying, 'i thought better of it, and told her nothing.' yet it was an honorable purpose nursed by sweet dreams, and by hopes such as souls feed upon, strengthening themselves for trials of life; i must carry it back with me, not for burial in my own breast, but for gossips to rend and tear, and make laughter of--the wonder and amusement of an unfeeling city. how many modes of punishment god keeps in store for the chastening of those who love him!" "it is beggarly saying i sympathize"-- "no, no--wait!" he cried, passionately. "now it breaks upon me. i may not offer thee a seat on my throne, or give a hand to help thee up to it; for the present i will not declare i love thee; yet harm cannot come of telling thee what has been. thou hadst my love at our first meeting. i loved thee then. as a man i loved thee, nor less as an emperor because a man. thou wast lovely with the loveliness of the angels. i saw thee in a light not of earth, and thou wert transparent as the light. i descended from the throne to thee thinking thou hadst collected all the radiance of the sun wasting in the void between stars, and clothed thyself in it." "oh, my lord"-- "not yet, not yet"-- "blasphemy and madness!" "be it so!" he answered, with greater intensity. "this once i speak as a lover who was--a lover making last memories of the holy passion, to be henceforth accounted dead. dead? ah, yes!--to me--dead to me!" she timidly took the hand he dropped upon his knee at the close of a long sigh. "it may rest my lord to hear me," she said, tearfully. "i never doubted his fitness to be emperor, or if ever i had such a doubt, it is no more. he has conquered himself! indeed, indeed, it is sweet to hear him tell his love, for i am woman; and if i cannot give it back measure for measure, this much may be accepted by him--i have never loved a man, and if the future holds such a condition in store for me, i will think of my lord, and his strength and triumph, and in my humbler lot do as he has so nobly done. he has his empire to engage him, and fill his hours with duties; i have god to serve and obey with singleness. out of the prison where my mother died, and in which my father grew old counting his years as they slowly wore away, a shadow issued, and is always at hand to ask me, 'who art thou? what right hast thou to happiness?' and if ever i fall into the thought so pleasant to woman, of loving and being loved, and of marriage, the shadow intervenes, and abides with me until i behold myself again bounden to religion, a servant vowed to my fellow creatures sick, suffering, or in sorrow." then the gentle emperor fell to pitying her, and asked, forgetful of himself, and thinking of things to lighten her lot, "wilt thou never marry?" "i will not say no, my lord," she answered. "who can foresee the turns of life? take thou this in reply--never will i surrender myself to wedlock under urgency of love alone. but comes there some great emergency, when, by such sacrifice, i may save my country, or my countrymen in multitude, or restore our holy religion overthrown or in danger, then, for the direct god-service there may be in it, i could give myself in contract, and would." "without love?" he asked. "yes, without loving or being loved. this body is not mine, but god's, and he may demand it of me for the good of my fellow-men; and, so there be no tarnishment of the spirit, my lord, why haggle about the husk in which the spirit is hidden?" she spoke with enthusiasm. doubt of her sincerity would have been blasphemous. that such fate should be for her, so bright, pure and heroic! not while he had authority! and in the instant he vowed himself to care of her by resolution strong as an oath. in thought of the uncertainties lowering over his own future, he saw it was better she should remain vowed to heaven than to himself; thereupon he arose, and standing at her side, laid a hand lightly upon her head, and said solemnly: "thou hast chosen wisely. may the blessed mother, and all the ministering angels, in most holy company, keep guard lest thou be overtaken by calamity, sorrow and disappointment. and, for me, o irene!"--his voice shook with emotion--"i shall be content if now thou wilt accept me for thy father." she raised her eyes, as to heaven, and said, smiling: "dear god! how thou dost multiply goodnesses, and shower them upon me!" he stooped, and kissed her forehead. "amen, sweet daughter!" then he helped her to her feet. "now, while thou wert speaking, irene, it was given me to see how the betrothal i was determined upon would have been a crime aside from wresting thee from the service of thy choice. phranza is a true and faithful servant. how know i but, within his powers, and as he lawfully might, he has contracted me by treaty to acceptance of the georgian? thou hast saved me, and my ancient chamberlain. those under the portico are conspirators. but come, let us join them." chapter xviii the singing sheik it was about ten o'clock when the emperor and princess irene appeared on the portico, and, moving toward the northern side, wended slowly through the labyrinth of flowers, palms, and shrubs. the courtiers and dignitaries, upon their approach, received them in respectful silence, standing in groups about the tables. a chair, with arms, high back, and a canopy, looking not unlike a sedilium, had been set in an open space. the reservation was further marked by a table in front of the chair, and two broad-branched palm trees, one on each side. thither the princess conducted the sovereign; and when he was seated, at a signal from her, some chosen attendants came bearing refreshments, cold meats, bread, fruits, and wines in crystal flagons, which they placed on the table, and retiring a little way, remained in waiting, while their mistress, on a stool at the left of the board, did the honors. the introduction of a queen into a palace is usually the signal for a change of the existing domestic regime. old placeholders go out; new favorites come in; and not seldom the revolution reaches the highest official circles of the government. the veterans of the suite, to some of whom this bit of knowledge had come severely home, were very watchful of the two superior personages. had his majesty really exposed his intent to the princess? had he declared himself to her? had she accepted? the effect was to trebly sharpen the eyes past which the two were required to go on their way to the reserved table. mention has been made of phranza, the grand chamberlain, at the moment absent on a diplomatic search for an imperial consort. of all attaches of the court, he was first in his master's regard; and the distinction, it is but just to say, was due to his higher qualities and superior character. the term _favorite_, as a definition of relationship between a despot and a dependent, is historically cloudy; wherefore it is in this instance of unfair application. intimate or confidante is much more exactly descriptive. but be that as it may, the good understanding between the emperor and his grand chamberlain was amply sufficient to provoke the jealousy of many of the latter's colleagues, of whom duke notaras, grand admiral, and the most powerful noble of the empire, was head and front. the scheme for the elevation of the princess to the throne originated with him, and was aimed malevolently at phranza, of whom he was envious, and constantine, whom he hated on religious grounds. interest in the plot brought him to therapia; yet he held himself aloof, preferring the attitude of a spectator coldly polite to that of an active partisan in the affair. he declined sitting at a table, but took position between two of the columns whence the view of the bay was best. there were numbers of the suite, however, who discredited the motive with which he chose the place. "see notaras," said one of a group, whispering to friends drinking wine a little way off. "the scene before him is charming, but is he charmed with it as he appears?" "there was an old demi-god with an eye in his forehead. notaras' best orb just now is in the back of his head. he may be looking at the bay; he is really watching the portico"--such was the reply. "out! he cares nothing for us." "very true--we are not the emperor." "my lord duke is not happy to-day," was remarked in another coterie. "wait, my dear friend. the day is young." "if this match should not be made after all"-- "he will know it first." "yes, nothing from the lovers, neither smile nor sigh, can escape him." the professor of philosophy and his brother the professor of rhetoric ate and drank together, illustrating the affinity of learning. "our phranza is in danger," said the latter, nervously. "as thou art a subscriber to the doctrine of the _phaedon_, i wish we could disembody our souls, if only for an hour." "oh, a singular wish! what wouldst thou?" "tell it not; but"--the voice dropped into a whisper--"i would despatch mine in search of the wise chamberlain to warn him of what is here in practice." "ah, my brother, thou didst me the honor to read and approve my treatise on the philosophy of conspiracy. dost thou remember the confounding elements given in the thesis?" "yes--goodness is one." "under condition; that is, when the result is dependent upon a party of virtuous disposition." "i remember now." "well, we have the condition here." "the princess!" "and therefore the duke, not our phranza, is in danger. she will discomfit him." "may heaven dispose so!" and the rhetorician almost immediately added, "observe thou. notaras has established himself within easy hearing of the two. he has actually invaded the space reserved for them." "as if to confirm my forecast!" then the philosopher raised a cup. "to phranza!" "to phranza!" the rhetorician responded. this episode hardly concluded when the emperor's brother sauntered to the duke's side; and on the appearance of the emperor and the princess, he exclaimed, enthusiastically: "come of it what may, my lord, the damsel is comely, and i fear not to compare her with the best of trebizond or georgia." the duke did not answer. indeed, the lords were all intent upon exactly the same subject. whether there had been an overture and an acceptance, or an overture and a declination, they believed the principals could not conceal the result; a look, a gesture, or something in the manner of one or both of them, would tell the tale to eyes of such practical discernment. by the greater number the information would be treated as news for discussion merely; a few had hopes or fears at stake; none of them was so perilously involved as notaras; in his view, failure meant the promotion of phranza, of all consequences, not excepting his own loss of favor and prestige, the most intolerable. on the other part, constantine was not less concerned in misleading his court. at the proper time he would give out that he had changed his mind at the last moment; before engaging himself to the princess, he had concluded it best to wait and hear from phranza. accordingly, in passing along the portico, he endeavored to look and behave like a guest; he conversed in an ordinary tone; he suffered his hostess to precede him; and, well seconded by her, he was installed in the state chair, without an argument yes or no for the sharp reviewers. at the table he appeared chiefly solicitous to appease an unusual hunger, which he charged to the early morning air on the bosphorus. notaras, whom nothing of incident, demeanor or remark escaped, began very early to be apprehensive. upon beholding his master's unlover-like concession to appetite, he remarked sullenly, "verily, either his courage failed, and he did not submit a proposal, or she has rejected him." "my lord duke," the emperor's brother replied, somewhat stung, "dost thou believe it in woman to refuse such an honor?" "sir," the duke retorted, "women who go about unveiled are above or below judgment." the princess, in her place at the table, began there to recount her adventure at the white castle, but when far enough in the recital to indicate its course the emperor interrupted her. "stay, daughter," he said, gently. "the incident may prove of international interest. if not objectionable to you, i should be pleased to have some of my friends hear it." then raising his voice, he called out: "notaras, and thou, my brother, come, stand here. our fair hostess had yesterday an astonishing experience with the turks on the other shore, and i have prevailed on her to narrate it." the two responded to the invitation by drawing nearer the emperor at his right hand. "proceed now, daughter," the latter said. "daughter, daughter, indeed!" the duke repeated to himself, and so bitterly it may be doubted if his master's diplomacy availed to put him at rest. the paternalism of the address was decisive--phranza had won. then, presently overcoming her confusion, the princess succeeded in giving a simple but clear account of how she was driven to the castle, and of what befell her while there. when she finished, the entire suite were standing about the table listening. twice she had been interrupted by the emperor. "a moment!" he said to her, while she was speaking of the turkish soldiery whose arrival at the ancient stronghold had been so nearly simultaneous with her own. then he addressed himself to the grand domestic and the admiral. "my lords, in passing the castle, on our way up, you remember i bade the pilot take our ship near the shore there. it seemed to me the garrison was showing unusually large, while the flags on the donjon were strange, and the tents and horses around the walls implied an army present. you remember?" "and we have now, sire, the justification of your superior wisdom," the grand domestic replied, rising from a low salutation. "i recall the circumstance, my lords, to enjoin you not to suffer the affair to slip attention when next we meet in council--i pray pardon, daughter, for breaking the thread of your most interesting and important narrative. i am prepared to listen further." then, after description of the governor, and his reception of the fugitives on the landing, his majesty, with apologies, asked permission to offer another inquiry. "of a truth, daughter, the picture thou hast given us under the title of governor beareth no likeness to him who hath heretofore responded to that dignity. at various times i have had occasion to despatch messengers to the commandant, and returning, they have reported him a coarse, unrefined, brutish-looking person, of middle age and low rank; and much i marvel to hear the freedom with which this person doth pledge my august friend and ally, sultan amurath. my lords, this will furnish us an additional point of investigation. obviously the castle is of military importance, requiring an old head full of experience to keep it regardful of peace and clear understanding between the powers plying the bosphorus. we are always to be apprehensive of the fire there is in young blood." "with humility, your majesty," said the grand domestic, "i should like to hear from the princess, whose loveliness is now not more remarkable than her courage and discretion, the evidence she has for the opinion that the young man is really the governor." she was about to reply when lysander, the old servant, elbowed himself through the brilliant circle, and dropped his javelin noisily by her chair. "a stranger calling himself an arab is at the gate," he said to her, with the semblance of a salutation. the simplicity of the ancient, his zeal in the performance of his office, his obliviousness to the imperial presence, caused a ripple of amusement. "an arab!" the princess exclaimed, in momentary forgetfulness. "how does the man appear?" lysander was in turn distraught; after a short delay, however, he managed to answer: "his face is dark, almost black; his head is covered with a great cloth of silk and gold; a gown hides him from neck to heels; in his girdle there is a dagger. he has a lordly air, and does not seem in the least afraid. in brief, my mistress, he looks as if he might be king of all the camel drivers in the world." the description was unexpectedly graphic; even the emperor smiled, while many of the train, presuming license from his amusement, laughed aloud. in the midst of the merriment, the princess, calmly, and with scarce a change from her ordinary tone, proceeded to an explanation. "your majesty," she said, "i am reminded of an invitation left with the person whose identity was in discussion the instant of this announcement. in the afternoon, while i was sojourning in the white castle, an arab story-teller was presented to me under recommendation of my courteous host. he was said to be of great professional renown in the east, a sheik travelling to adrianople for the divertisement of the hanoum of the sultan. in the desert they call him endearingly the _singing sheik_. i was glad to have the hours assisted in their going, and he did not disappoint me. so charmed was i by his tales and manner of telling them, by his genius, that in taking my departure from what proved a most agreeable retreat, and in acknowledging the hospitable entertainment given me, i referred to the singer, and requested the governor to prevail on him to extend his journey here, in order to favor me with another opportunity to hear him. had i then known it was in my lord's purposes to visit me with such a company of most noble gentlemen, or could i have even anticipated the honor, i should not have appointed to-day for the audience with him. but he is in attendance; and now, with full understanding of the circumstances, it is for your majesty to pronounce upon his admission. perhaps"--she paused with a look of deprecation fairly divisible share and share alike between the emperor and the lords around her--"perhaps time may hang heavy with my guests this morning; if so, i shall hold myself obliged to the singing sheik if he can help me entertain them." now, was there one present to attach a criticism to the favor extended the arab, he dismissed it summarily, wondering at her easy grace. the emperor no doubt shared the admiration with his suite; but concealing it, he said, with an air of uncertainty, "thy recommendation, daughter, is high; and if i remain, verily, it will be with expectation wrought up to a dangerous degree; yet having often heard of the power of the strolling poets of whom this one is in probability an excellent example, i confess i should be pleased to have thee admit him." of the admiral, he then asked, "we were to set out in return about noon, were we not?" "about noon, your majesty." "well, the hour is hardly upon us. let the man appear, daughter; only, as thou lovest us, contrive that he keep to short recitals, which, without holding us unwillingly, will yet suffice to give an idea of his mind and methods. and keep thyself prepared for an announcement of our departure, and when received, mistake it not for discontent with thyself. admit the arab." chapter xix two turkish tales the situation now offered the reader is worth a pause, if only to fix it in mind. constantine and mahommed, soon to be contestants in war, are coming face to face, lovers both of the same woman. the romance is obvious; yet it is heightened by another circumstance. one of them is in danger. we of course know aboo-obeidah, the singing sheik, is prince mahommed in disguise; we know the prince also as heir of amurath the sultan, a very old man liable to vacate place and life at any moment. suppose now the rash adventurer--the term fits the youth truly as if he were without rank--should be discovered and denounced to the emperor. the consequences can only be treated conjecturally. in the first place, to what extremities the prince would be put in explaining his presence there. he could plead the invitation of the princess irene. but his rival would be his judge, and the judge might find it convenient to laugh at the truth, and rest his decision on the prisoner's disguise, in connection with his own presence--two facts sufficiently important to serve the most extreme accusation. constantine, next, was a knightly monarch who knew to live nobly, and dared die as he lived; yet, thinking of what he might do with mahommed fallen into his hands under circumstances so peculiar, there was never a caesar not the slave of policy. in the audience to manuel the sailor, we have seen how keenly sensitive he was to the contraction the empire had suffered. since that day, to be sure, he had managed to keep the territory he came to; none the less, he felt the turk to whom the stolen provinces invariably fell was his enemy, and that truce or treaty with him did not avail to loosen the compression steadily growing around his capital. over and over, daytime and night, the unhappy emperor pondered the story of the daughter of tantalus; and often, starting from dreams in which the ottoman power was a serpent slowly crawling to its victim, he would cry in real agony--"o constantinople--niobe! who can save thee but god? and if he will not--alas, alas!" the feeling thus engendered was not of a kind to yield readily to generosity. mahommed once securely his, everything might be let go--truth, honor, glory--everything but the terms of advantage purchasable with such an hostage. the invitation to the imaginary sheik had been a last act of grace by irene, about to embark for the city. mahommed, when he accepted, knew therapia by report a village very ancient historically, but decaying, and now little more than a summer resort and depot of supplies for fishermen. that its proverbial quietude would be disturbed, and the sleepy blood of its inhabitants aroused, by a royal galley anchoring in the bay to discharge the personnel of the empire itself, could have had no place in his anticipations. so when he stepped into a boat, the aboo-obeidah of his eulogy, and suffered himself, without an attendant, to be ferried across to roumeli-hissar; when he there took an humble wherry of two oars, and bade the unliveried greeks who served them pull for therapia, it was to see again the woman who was taking his fancy into possession, not constantine and his court bizarre in splendor and habitude. in other words, mahommed on setting out had no idea of danger. love, or something very like it, was his sole inspiration. the trireme, with the white cross on its red sail, its deck a martial and courtly spectacle, had been reported to him as the hundred and twenty flashing scarlet blades, in their operation a miracle of unity, whisked it by the old castle, and he had come forth to see it. where are they going? he asked those around him; and they, familiar with the bosphorus, its shipping and navigation, answered unanimously, to exercise her crew up in the black sea; and thinking of the breadth of the dark blue fields there, the reply commended itself, and he dismissed the subject. the course chosen by his boatmen when they put off from roumeli-hissar kept him close to the european shore, which he had leisure to study. then, as now, it was more favored than its asiatic opposite. the winds from the sea, southward blowing, unloaded their mists to vivify its ivy and myrtle. the sunlight, tarrying longest over its pine-clad summits, coaxed habitations along the shore; here, a palace; there, under an overhanging cliff, a hamlet; yonder, a long extended village complaisantly adapting itself to the curvatures of the brief margin left it for occupancy. wherever along the front of the heights and on the top there was room for a field the advantage had been seized. so the prince had offered him the sight of all others most significant of peace among men--sight of farmers tilling the soil. with the lucid sky above him summer-laden, the water under and about him a liquid atmosphere, the broken mountain-face changing from lovely to lovelier, and occasionally awakening him with a superlative splendor, the abodes so near, and the orchards and strawberry and melon patches overhead, symbolizing goodwill and fraternity and happiness amongst the poor and humble--with these, and the rhythmic beating of the oars to soothe his spirit, fierce and mandatory even in youth, he went, the time divided between views fair enough for the most rapturous dreams, and the greek, of whom, with all their brightness, they were but dim suggestions. past the stream-riven gorge of balta-liman he went; past emirghian; past the haven of stenia, and the long shore-town of yenikeui; then, half turning the keuibachi bend, lo! therapia, draggling down the stony steep, like a heap of bangles on a brown-red cheek. and there, in the soft embracement of the bay, a bird with folded wings asleep--the _trireme_! the sight startled the prince. he spoke to the rowers, and they ceased fighting the current, and with their chins over their shoulders, looked whither he pointed. from ship to shore he looked; then, pursuing the curve inland to the bridge at the upper end; thence down what may be called the western side, he beheld people crowding between a quay and a red kiosk over which pended a wooded promontory. "there is a princess living in this vicinity," said he to one of the rowers, slightly lifting the handkerchief from his face. "where is her palace?" "in the garden yonder. you see the gate over the heads of the men and women." "what is her name?" "princess irene. she is known on this shore as the good princess." "irene--a sound pleasant to the ear"--mahommed muttered. "why is she called good?" "because she is an angel of mercy to the poor." "that is not usual with the great and rich," he said next, yielding to a charm in the encomiums. "yes," the boatman responded, "she is great, being akin to the emperor, and rich, too, though"-- here the man broke off to assist in bringing the boat back from its recession with the current, at this point boisterously swift. "you were saying the princess is rich," mahommed said, when the oars were again at rest. "oh, yes! but i cannot tell you, my friend, how many are partners in her wealth. every widow and orphan who can get to her comes away with a portion. isn't it so?" his companion grunted affirmatively, adding: "down yonder a man with a crooked back lives in an arched cell opening on the water. perhaps the stranger saw it as he came up." "yes," mahommed answered. "well, in the back part of the cell he has an altar with a crucifix and a picture of the blessed mother on it, and he keeps a candle burning before them day and night--something he could not do if we did not help him, for candles of wax are costly. he has named the altar after the princess, sta. irene. we often stop and go in there to pray; and i have heard the blessings in the light of that candle are rich and many as the patriarch has for sale in sta. sophia." these praises touched mahommed; for, exalted as he was in station, he was aware of the proneness of the poor to berate the rich and grumble at the great, and that such had been a habit with them from the commencement of the world. again the boat slipped down the current; when it was brought back, he asked: "when did the ship yonder come up?" "this morning." "oh, yes! i saw it then, but thought the crew were being taken to the sea for practice." "no," the boatman replied, "it is the state galley of his majesty the emperor. did you not see him? he sat on the throne with all his ministers and court around him." mahommed was startled. "where is the emperor now?" he inquired. "i should say, seeing the crowd yonder, that his majesty is in the palace with the princess." "yes," said the second rower, "they are waiting to see him come out." "row out into the bay. i should like to have the view from that quarter." while making the detour, mahommed reflected. naturally he remembered himself the son of amurath; after which it was easy to marshal the consequences of exposure, if he persisted in his venture. he saw distinctly how his capture would be a basis of vast bargaining with his father, or, if the sturdy old warrior preferred revenge to payment of a ruinous ransom, how the succession and throne might slip to another, leaving him a prisoner for life. yet another matter presented itself to him which the reader may decide worthy a separate paragraph. its mention has been waiting this opportunity. the prince from magnesia, his seat of government, was on the way to adrianople, called thither by his father, who had chosen a bride for him, daughter of a renowned emir. regularly he would have crossed the hellespont at gallipoli; a whim, however, took him to the white castle--whim or destiny, one being about as satisfactory as the other. pondering silently whether it were not best to return, he thought, apropos the princess irene, of the nuptials to be celebrated, and of his bride expectant; and a christian, pausing over the suggestion, may be disposed to condemn him for inconstancy. in countries where many wives are allowed the same husband he is not required to love any of them. indeed, his fourth spouse may be the first to command him; hers the eyes for his enslavement; hers the voice of the charmer charming both wisely and forever. mahommed did now think of the emir's daughter, but not with compunction, nor even in comparison. he had never seen her face, and would not until after the wedding days. he thought of her but to put her aside; she could not be as this christian was, neither so accomplished nor courtly; besides which, it was dawning upon him that there were graces of mind and soul as well as of person, while perfection was a combination of all the graces in equal degree. gleams of the latter had visited him while gazing into the radiant face of the emperor's kinswoman; and how, at such favoring times, his fancy had gone out to her and come back warmed, enlivened, glorified! there is a passion of the mind and a passion of the blood; and though one and one make two, two is still a multiple of one. looking thus at the galley, mahommed thought of the tales in the east not less common than in the west, and believed in them faithfully, for chivalry was merely on the wane--tales of beauteous damsels shut up in caves or adamantine castles, with guardian lions couchant at the gates, and of well-sworded heroes who marched boldly up to the brutes, and slew them, and delivered the captives always with reward. of course, in making the application, the princess was the prisoner, the ship the lion, and himself--well, in want of a sword, he laid hand upon his dagger, precisely as a liberating knight up to the ideal would do. nor was this all. the revelations of the prince of india were still fresh to him. he wished to see his competitor. how did he look? was there enough of him to make battle? he smiled thinking of the pleasure there would be in slyly studying the princess and the emperor at the same time. he drew the handkerchief down, looked at his brown-stained hands, and adjusted the folds of his burnoose. the disguise was perfect. "take me to the landing--there before the gate of the good princess," he said, with the air of a traveller above suspicion. his resolution was taken. challenging all chances, he would respond to the invitation of the princess. and so completely were doubt and hesitation dismissed with our adventurer, that it was not mahommed who stepped from the boat where the populace was in densest assemblage, but aboo-obeidah, the singing sheik, and as such we will speak of him. the guard at the gate, viewing him askance, detained him until he could be reported. a fair conception of the scene presented when the sheik stood on the floor of the portico is probably in the reader's mind; yet a glance at it may be pardoned. it was at first like a sudden introduction to an oriental garden. there were the vines, flowering shrubs, fruiting trees, many-fronded palms, and the effect of outdoors derived from the shadows of the pillars, and the sunshine streaming brilliantly through the open intervals. the tables bore proofs of the collation served upon them. overhead was the soft creaminess of pure marble in protected state mellowed by friendly touches of time. at the end of the vista, the company was indistinctly visible through the verdure of obtruding branches. voices came to him from that part, and gleams of bright garments; and to get to them it seemed he must pass through a viridescent atmosphere flecked with blooms, and faintly sweet with odors. for in losing the masculinity of their race the greeks devoted themselves more and more to refined effeminacies. moving slowly forward under the guidance of lysander, whose javelin beating the floor accentuated the rasping shuffle of his sandals, the sheik came presently to a full view of the concourse. he stopped, partly in obedience to a fine instinct of propriety teaching him he was now subject to the pleasure of his hostess, and partly to single out the royal enemy against whom he believed he was about to be pitted by destiny. constantine was sitting at ease, his left elbow resting on an arm of the sedilium, his forefinger supporting his cheek, his cloak across his lap. the attitude was reflective; the countenance exposed under the lifted visor of the helmet, was calm and benignant; except there was no suggestion of an evil revery holding the current of his thought, or casting a shade of uncertainty over his soul, he looked not unlike the famous il penseroso familiar to art-seekers in the medici chapel of florence. then the eyes of the rivals met. the greek was in no wise moved. how it would have been with him could he have seen through the disguise of the sheik may never be said. on the other part, the sheik lifted his head, and seemed taking on increase of stature. a projecting fold of the head-kerchief overhung his face, permitting nothing to be seen but red-hued cheeks, a thin beard, and eyes black and glittering. the review he felt himself undergoing did not daunt him; it only sent his pride mounting, like a leap of flame. "by the virgin!" said one of the courtiers to another, in a louder tone than the occasion demanded. "we may indeed congratulate ourselves upon having seen the king of camel drivers." there was a disposition to laugh amongst the lighter-minded of the guests, but the princess checked it by rising. "bid the sheik approach," she said, to the old domestic; and, at a sign from her, the waiting-women drew closer about her chair. the figure of the princess clad all in white, a bracelet of plain gold upon her left arm, fillets in her hair, one red, the other blue, a double strand of pearls about her neck--this figure, with the small head, perfect in turn, set matchlessly upon the sloping shoulders, the humid eyes full of violet light, the cheeks flushed with feeling--this figure so bright in its surroundings, admitted no rivalry in attention, none in admiration; the courtiers, old and young, turned from the sheik, and the sheik from the emperor. in a word, every eye centred upon the princess, every tongue bade hush lest what she said might be lost. etiquette required the sheik's presentation to the emperor first, but seeing her about to comply with the rule, he prostrated himself at her feet. as he arose, she said: "when i invited you to come and give me more of the cheer there is in your art, o sheik, i did not know my gracious kinsman, to whom every greek is proud and happy to be allegiant, designed visiting me to-day. i pray you will not suffer too much from his presence, but regard him a royal auditor who delights in a tale well told, and in verses when the theme and measure go lovingly together. his majesty, the emperor!" "hist! didst hear?" whispered the professor of philosophy to the professor of rhetoric. "thyself couldst not have spoken better." "ay, truly," the other answered. "save a trifle of stiffness, the speech might have served longinus." with her last word, the princess stepped aside, leaving mahommed and constantine front to front. had the sheik been observant of the monarch's dues, he would have promptly prostrated himself; but the moment for the salutation passed, and he remained standing, answering the look he received calmly as it was given. the reader and the writer know the reason governing him; the suite, however, were not so well informed, and they began to murmur. the princess herself appeared embarrassed. "lord of constantinople," the sheik said, seeing speech was his, "were i a greek, or a roman, or an ottoman, i should make haste to kiss the floor before you, happy of the privilege; for--be the concession well noted"--he glanced deferentially around him as he spoke--"the report which the world has of you is of a kind to make it your lover. after a few days--allah willing--i shall stand before amurath the sultan. though in reverencing him i yield not to any one simply his friend, he will waive prostration from me, knowing what your majesty may not. in my country we cleanse the ground with our beards before no one but god. not that we are unwilling to conform to the rules of the courts in which we find ourselves; with us it is a law--to kiss a man's hand maketh him the master; prostrate thyself to him, and without other act, thou becomest his subject. i am an arab!" the sheik was not in the least defiant; on the contrary, his manner was straightforward, simple, sincere, as became one interposing conscience against an observance in itself rightful enough. only in the last exclamation was there a perceptible emphasis, a little marked by a lift of the head and a kindling of the eyes. "i see your majesty comprehends me," he said, continuing; "yet to further persuade your court, and especially the fair and high-born lady, whose guest, with all my unworthiness, i am, from believing me moved in this matter by disrespect for their sovereign, i say next, if by prostration i made myself a roman, the act would be binding on the tribe whose sheik i am by lawful election. and did i that, o thou whose bounties serve thy people in lieu of rain! though my hand were white, like the first prophet's, when, to assure the egyptian, he drew it from his bosom, it would char blacker than dust of burned willow--then, o thou, lovelier than the queen the lost lapwing reported to solomon! though my breath were as the odor of musk, it would poison, like an exhalation from a leper's grave--then, o my lords! like karoon in his wickedness, i should hear allah say of me, o earth, swallow him! for as there are crimes and crimes, verily the chief who betrays his brethren born to the practice of freedom, shall wander between tents all his days, crying, oh, alas! oh, alas! who now will defend me against god?" when the sheik paused, as if for judgment, he was not only acquitted of intentional disrespect; the last grumbler was anxious to hear him further. "what astonishing figures!" the philosopher whispered to the rhetorician. "i begin to think it true that the east hath a style of its own." "i commend thy sagacity, my brother," the other replied. "his peroration was redolent of the koran--a wonderful fellow nevertheless!" presently the whole concourse was looking at the emperor, with whom it rested whether the sheik should be dismissed or called on for entertainment. "daughter," said constantine to the princess, "i know not enough of the tribal law of thy guest to have an opinion of the effect upon him and his of the observance of our ancient ceremony; wherefore we are bound to accept his statement. moreover it does not become our dignity to acquire subjects and dominion, were they ever so desirable, in a method justly liable to impeachment for treachery and coercion. besides which--and quite as important, situated as we are--thy hospitality is to be defended." here the sheik, who had been listening to the emperor, and closely observing him, thrice lightly clapped his hands. "it remains for us, therefore, to waive the salutation in this instance." a ripple of assent proceeded from the suite. "and now, daughter," constantine pursued, "thy guest being present to give thee of his lore, it may be he will be pleased to have us of his audience as well. having heard much of such performances, and remembering their popularity when we were in our childhood, we will esteem ourselves fortunate if now favored by one highly commended as a master in his guild." the sheik's eyes sparkled brighter as he answered, "it is written for us in our holiest, the very word of the compassionate,--'if ye are greeted with a greeting, then greet ye with a better greeting, or at least return it.' verily my lord dispenseth honor with so light a hand as not to appear aware of the doing. when my brethren under the black tents are told of my having won the willing ear of their majesties of byzantium and adrianople, they will think of me as one who has been permitted to walk in the light of two suns simultaneous in shining." so saying, he bowed very low. "my only unhappiness now is in not knowing the direction in which my lord's preferences run; for as a stream goes here and there, but all the time keeps one general course, seeking the sea, so with taste; though it yield a nod now, and then a smile, it hath always a deeper delight for the singer's finding. i have the gay and serious--history, traditions--the heroics of men and nations, their heart-throbs in verse and prose--all or any for the lord of constantinople and his kinswoman, my hostess,--may her life never end until the song of the dove ceases to be heard in the land!" "what say you, my friends?" asked constantine, glancing graciously at those around him. then they looked from him to the princess, and in thought of the betrothal, replied, "love--something of love!" "no," he returned, unflinchingly. "we are youths no longer. there is enlightenment in the traditions of nations. our neighbors, the turks--what hast thou of them, sheik?" "didst thou hear?" said notaras to one at his elbow. "he hath recanted; the empress will not be a greek." there was no answer; for the sheik, baring his head, hung the kerchief and cord upon his arm, preliminaries which gave him perfectly to view. a swarthy face; hair black, profuse, closely cut along the temples; features delicate but manly--these the bystanders saw in a general way, being more attracted by the repressed fire in the man's eyes, and his air high and severely noble. when the princess caught sight of the countenance, she fell into a confusion. she had seen it, but where and when? the instant he was beginning he gazed at her, and in the exchange of glances she was reminded of the governor bidding her adieu on the shore of the sweet waters. but he was youthful, while this one--could it be he was old? the feeling was a repetition of that she had in the castle when the storyteller appeared the first time. "i will tell how the turks became a nation." then, in greek but a little broken, the sheik began a recital. alaeddin and ertoghrul i a tale of ertoghrul!-- how when the chief lay one day nooning with his stolen herds, a sound of drumming smote him from the east, and while he stood to see what came of it, the west with like notes fainter, echo-like, made answer; then two armies rode in view, horses and men in steel, the sheen of war about them and above, and wheeling quick from column into line, drew all their blades, shook all their flags, and charged and lost themselves in depths of dusty clouds, which yet they tore with blinding gleams of light, and yells of rage, and cheers so high and hoarse they well might seem the rolling thunder of a mountain storm. long time the hosts contended; but at last the lesser one began to yield the ground, oppressed in front, and on its flanks o'erwhelmed: and hasted then the end, a piteous sight, most piteous to the very brave who know from lessons of their lives, how seldom 'tis despair can save where valor fails to win. then ertoghrul aroused him, touched to heart. "my children, mount, and out with cimeter! i know not who these are, nor whence they come; nor need we care. 'twas allah led them here, and we will honor him--and this our law; what though the weak may not be always right, we'll make it always right to help the weak. deep take the stirrups now, and ride with me, _allah-il-allah!"_ thus spake ertoghrul; and at the words, with flying reins, and all his eager tribe, four hundred sworded men, headlong he rode against the winning host. ii beneath the captured flags, the spoils in heaps around him laid, the rescued warrior stood, a man of kingly mien, while to him strode his unexpected friend. "now who art thou?" the first was first to ask. "sheik ertoghrul am i." "the herds i see--who calls them his?" laughed ertoghrul, and showed his cimeter. "the sword obeys my hand, the hand my will, and given will and hand and sword, i pray thee tell me, why should any man be poor?" "and whose the plain?" "comes this way one a friend of mine, and leaves his slippers at my door, why then, 'tis his." "and whose the hills that look upon the plain?" "my flocks go there at morn, and thence they come at night--i take my right of allah." "no," the stranger mildly said, "'twas allah made them mine." frowned ertoghrul, while darkened all the air; but from his side full pleasantly the stranger took a sword, its carven hilt one royal emerald, its blade both sides with legends overwrought, some from the koran, some from solomon, all by the cunning eastern maker burned into the azure steel-his sword he took, and held it, belt, and scabbard too, in sign of gift. "the herds, the plain, the hills were mine; but take thou them, and with them this in proof of title." lifted ertoghrul his brows, and opened wide his eyes. "now who art thou?" he asked in turn. "oh, i am alaeddin-- sometimes they call me alaeddin the great." "i take thy gifts--the herds, the plain, the hills," said ertoghrul; "and so i take the sword; but none the less, if comes a need, 'tis thine. let others call thee alaeddin the great; to me and mine thou'rt alaeddin the good and great." with that, he kissed the good king's hand; and making merry, to the sheik's dowar they rode. and thus from nothing came the small; and now the lonely vale which erst ye knew, and scorned, because it nursed the mountain's feet, doth cradle mornings on the mountain's top. _mishallah!_ the quiet which held the company through the recitation endured a space afterwards, and--if the expression be allowed--was in itself a commentary upon the performance. "where is our worthy professor of rhetoric?" asked constantine. "here, your majesty," answered the man of learning, rising. "canst thou not give us a lecture upon the story with which thy arabian brother hath favored us?" "nay, sire, criticism, to deal justly, waiteth until the blood is cool. if the sheik will honor me with a copy of his lines, i will scan and measure them by the rules descended to us from homer, and his attic successors." the eyes of the emperor fell next upon the moody, discontented face of duke notaras. "my lord admiral, what sayest thou of the tale?" "of the tale, nothing; of the story-teller--i think him an insolent, and had i my way, your majesty, he should have a plunge in the bosphorus." presuming the sheik unfamiliar with latin, the duke couched his reply in that tongue; yet the former raised his head, and looked at the speaker, his eyes glittering with intelligence--and the day came, and soon, when the utterance was relentlessly punished. "i do not agree with you, my lord," constantine said, in a melancholy tone. "our fathers, whether we look for them on the roman or the greek side, might have played the part of ertoghrul. his was the spirit of conquest. would we had enough of it left to get back our own!--sheik," he added, "what else hast thou in the same strain? i have yet a little time to spare--though it shall be as our hostess saith." "nay," she answered, with deference, "there is but one will here." and taking assent from her, the sheik began anew. el jann and his parable _bismillah!_ ertoghrul pursued a wolf, and slew it on the range's tallest peak, above the plain so high there was nor grass nor even mosses more. and there he sat him down awhile to rest; when from the sky, or the blue ambiency cold and pure, or maybe from the caverns of the earth where solomon the king is wont to keep the monster genii hearkening his call, el jann, vast as a cloud, and thrice as black, appeared and spoke-- "art thou sheik ertoghrul?" and he undaunted answered: "even so." "well, i would like to come and sit with thee." "thou seest there is not room for both of us." "then rise, i say, and get thee part way down the peak." "'twere easier," laughed ertoghrul, "madest thou thyself like me as thin and small; and i am tired." a rushing sound ran round and up and down the height, most like the whir of wings through tangled trees of forests old and dim. a moment thus--the time a crisped leaf, held, armlength overhead, will take to fall-- and then a man was sitting face to face with ertoghrul. "this is the realm of snow," he said, and smiled--"a place from men secure, where only eagles fearless come to nest, and summer with their young." the sheik replied, "it was a wolf--a gaunt gray wolf, which long had fattened on my flocks--that lured me here. i killed it." "on thy spear i see no blood; and where, o sheik, the carcass of the slain? i see it not." around looked ertoghrul-- there was no wolf; and at his spear-- upon its blade no blood. then rose his wrath, a mighty pulse. "the spear hath failed its trust-- i'll try the cimeter." a gleam of light-- a flitting, wind-borne spark in murk of night-- then fell the sword, the gift of alaeddin; edge-first it smote the man upon his crown-- between his eyes it shore, nor staying there, it cut his smile in two--and not yet spent, but rather gaining force, through chin and chine, and to the very stone on which he sat it clove, and finished with a bell-like clang of silvern steel 'gainst steel. "aha! aha!"-- but brief the shout; for lo! there was no stain upon the blade withdrawn, nor moved the man, nor changed he look or smile. "i was the wolf that ran before thee up the mountain side; 'twas i received thy spear as now thy sword; and know thou further, sheik, nor wolf nor man am i, nor mortal thing of any kind; only a thought of allah's. canst thou kill a thought divine? not solomon himself could that, except with thought yet more divine. yield thee thy rage; and when thou think'st of me hereafter, be it as of one, a friend, who brought a parable, and made display before thee, saying-- "lo! what allah wills." therewith he dropped a seed scarce visible into a little heap of sand and loam between them drawn. "lo! allah wills." and straight the dust began to stir as holding life. again el jann-- "behold what allah wills!" a tiny shoot appeared; a waxen point close shawled in many folds of wax as white, it might have been a vine to humbly creep-- a lily soon to sunward flare its stars-- a shrub to briefly coquette with the winds. again the cabalism-- "lo! allah's will." the apparition budded, leafed, and branched, and with a flame of living green lit all the barrenness about. and still it grew-- until it touched the pillars of the earth, and lapped its boundaries, the far and near, and under it, as brethren in a tent, the nations made their home, and dwelt in peace forever. "lo!"-- and ertoghrul awoke. _mishallah!_ this recitation commanded closer attention than the first one. each listener had a feeling that the parable at the end, like all true parables, was of continuous application, while its moral was in some way aimed at him. the looks the sheik received were by no means loving. the spell was becoming unpleasant. then the emperor arose, as did the princess, to whom, as hostess, the privilege of sitting had been alone conceded. "our playtime is up--indeed, i fear, it has been exceeded," he said, glancing at the dean, who was acting master of ceremonies. the dean responded with a bow low as his surroundings admitted; whereupon the emperor went to the princess, and said, "we will take leave now, daughter, and for myself and my lords of the court, i acknowledge a most agreeable visit, and thank you for it." she respectfully saluted the hand he extended to her. "our gate and doors at blacherne are always open to you." the adieu was specially observed by the courtiers, and they subsequently pronounced it decorous for a sovereign, cordial as became a relative, but most un-loverlike. indeed, it was a strong point in the decision subsequently of general acceptance, by which his majesty was relieved of the proposal of marriage to the princess. the latter took his offered arm, and accompanied him to the steps of the portico, where, when he had descended, the lords one by one left a kiss on her hand. nor should it be forgotten, that as constantine was passing the sheik, he paused to say to him in his habitually kind and princely manner: "the tree sheik ertoghrul saw in his dream has spread, and is yet spreading, but its shadow has not compassed all the nations; and while god keeps me, it will not. had not i myself invited the parable, it might have been offensive. for the instruction and entertainment given me, accept thou this--and go in peace." the sheik took the ring offered him, and the gaze with which he followed the imperial giver was suggestive of respect and pity. chapter xx mahommed dreams it was a trifle after noon. the trireme and the assemblage of admiring townspeople had disappeared, leaving the bay and its shores to their wonted quiet. the palace, however, nestling in the garden under the promontory, must be permitted to hold our interest longer. aboo-obeidah had eaten and drunk, for being on a journey, he was within the license of the law as respects wine; and now he sat with the princess alone at the end of the portico lately occupied by the emperor and his suite. a number of her attendants amused themselves out of hearing of the two, though still within call. she occupied the sedilium; he a seat by the table near her. save a fine white veil on an arm and a fan which she seldom used, her appearance was as in the morning. it is to be admitted now that the princess was finding a pleasure in the society of the sheik. if aware of the fact, which was doubtful, it is still more doubtful if she could have explained it. we are inclined to think the mystery attaching to the man had as much to do with the circumstance as the man himself. he was polite, engaging, and handsome; the objection to his complexion, if such there were, was at least offset by a very positive faculty of entertaining; besides which, the unspeakable something in manner, always baffling disguises, always whispering of other conditions, always exciting suggestions and expectations, was present here. if she thought him the bedouin he assumed to be, directly a word changed the opinion; did she see the governor of the old castle in his face, an allusion or a bit of information dropped by him unaware spoke of association far beyond such a subordinate; most perplexing, however, where got the man his intelligence? did learning like his, avoiding cloisters, academies, and teachers of classical taste, comport with camel-driving and tent-life in deserts harried by winds and sand? the mystery, together with the effort to disentangle it, resolved the princess into an attentive auditor. the advantages in the conversation were consequently with the sheik; and he availed himself of them to lead as he chose. "you have heard, o princess, of the sacred fig-tree of the hindus?" "no." "in one of their poems--the bhagavad gita, i think--it is described as having its roots above and its branches downward; thus drawing life from the sky and offering its fruit most conveniently, it is to me the symbol of a good and just king. it rose to my mind when thy kinsman--may allah be thrice merciful to him!--passed me with his speech of forgiveness, and this gift "--he raised his hand, and looked at the ring on one of the fingers-"in place of which i was more deserving burial in the bosphorus, as the black-browed admiral said." a frown dark as the admiral's roughened his smooth brow. "why so?" she inquired. "the tales i told were of a kind to be spared a greek, even one who may not cover his instep with the embroidered buskin of an emperor." "nay, sheik, they did not ruffle him. on the tongue of a turk, i admit, the traditions had been boastful, but you are not a turk." the remark might have been interrogative; wherefore with admirable address, he replied: "an ottoman would see in me an arab wholly unrelated to him, except as i am a moslem. let it pass, o princess--he forgave me. the really great are always generous. when i took the ring, i thought, now would the young mahommed have so lightly pardoned the provocation?" "mahommed!" she said. "not the prophet," he answered; "but the son of amurath." "ah, you know him?" "i have sat with him, o princess, and at table often helped him to meat and bread. i have been his cupbearer and taster, and as frequently shared his outdoor sports; now hunting with hawk, and now with hound. oh, it were worth a year of common days to gallop at his right hand, and exult with him when the falcon, from its poise right under the sun, drops itself like an arrow upon its enemy! i have discoursed with him also on themes holy and profane, and given and taken views, and telling him tales in prose and verse, have seen the day go out, then come again. in knightly practice i have tilted with him, and more than once, by his side in battle, loosened rein at the same cry and charged. his sultana mother knows him well; but, by the lions and the eagles who served solomon, i know him, beginning where her knowledge left off--that is, where the horizon of manhood stretched itself to make room for his enlarging soul." the awakening curiosity of his listener was not lost upon the sheik. "you are surprised to hear a kindly speech of the son of amurath," he said. she flushed slightly. "i am not a person, sheik, whose opinions are dangerous to the peace of states, and of whom diplomacy is required; yet it would grieve me to give offence to you or your friend, the prince mahommed. if now i concede a wish to have some further knowledge of one who is shortly to inherit the most powerful of the eastern kingdoms, the circumstance ought not to subject me to harsh judgment." "princess," the sheik said, "nothing so becomes a woman as care where words may be the occasion of mischief. as a flower in a garden, such a woman would rank as the sovereign rose; as a bird, she would be the bulbul, the sweetest of singers, and in beauty, a heron with throat of snow, and wings of pink and scarlet; as a star, she would be the first of the evening, and the last to pale in the morning--nay, she would be a perpetual morning. of all fates what more nearly justifies reproach of allah than to have one's name and glory at the mercy of a rival or an enemy? i am indeed mahommed's friend--i know him--i will defend him, where sacred truth permits defence. and then"--his glance fell, and he hesitated. "and what then?" she asked. he gave her a grateful look, and answered: "i am going to adrianople. the prince will be there, and can i tell him of this audience, and that the princess irene regrets the evil reported of him in constantinople, and is not his enemy, straightway he will number himself of those the most happy and divinely remembered, whose books are to be given them in their right hands." the princess looked at the singer, her countenance clear, serene, fair as a child's, and said: "i am the enemy of no one living. report me so to him. the master i follow left a law by which all men and women are neighbors whom i am to love and pray for as i love and pray for myself. deliver him the very words, o sheik, and he will not misunderstand me." a moment after she asked: "but tell me more of him. he is making the world very anxious." "princess," the sheik began, "ebn hanife was a father amongst dervishes, and he had a saying, 'ye shall know a plant by its flower, a vine by its fruit, and a man by his acts; what he does being to the man as the flower to the plant, and the fruit to the vine; if he have done nothing, prove him by his tastes and preferences, for what he likes best that he will do when left to himself.' by these tests let us presume to try the prince mahommed.... there is nothing which enthralls us like the exercise of power--nothing we so nearly carry with us into the tomb to be a motive there; for who shall say it has not a part in the promise of resurrection? if so, o princess, what praise is too great for him who, a young man placed upon a throne by his father, comes down from it at his father's call?" "did mahommed that?" "not once, o princess, but twice." "in so much at least his balance should be fair." "to whom is the pleasant life in a lofty garden, its clusters always near at hand--to whom, if not to the just judges of their fellow-men?" the sheik saluted her twice by carrying his right hand to his beard, then to his forehead. "attend again, o princess," he continued, more warmly than in the outset. "mahommed is devoted to learning. at night in the field when the watches are set, the story-tellers, poets, philosophers, lawyers, preachers, experts in foreign tongues, and especially the inventors of devices, a class by themselves, supposed generally to live on dreams as others on bread--all these, finding welcome in his tent, congregate there. his palace in the city is a college, with recitations and lectures and instructive conversations. the objection his father recognized the times he requested him to vacate the throne was that he was a student. his ancestors having been verse makers, poetry is his delight; and if he does not rival them in the gentle art, he surpasses them in the number of his acquirements. the arab, the hebrew, the greek, the latin address him and have answers each in his mother's tongue. knew you ever a scholar, o princess, whose soul had utterly escaped the softening influence of thought and study? it is not learning which tames the barbarian so much as the diversion of mind from barbaric modes required of him while in the pursuit of learning." she interrupted him, saying pleasantly: "i see, o sheik, if to be at the mercy of an enemy is sad, how fortunate where one's picture is intended if the artist be a friend. where had the prince his instructors?" there was a lurking smile in the sheik's eyes, as he replied: "the sands in my country drink the clouds dry, and leave few fountains except of knowledge. the arab professors in cordova, whom the moorish kaliphs deemed themselves honored in honoring, were not despised by the bishops of rome. amurath, wanting teachers for mahommed, invited the best of them to his court. ah--if i had the time!" observing his sigh had not failed its mark, he continued: "i would speak of some of the books i have seen on the prince's table; for as a licensed friend, i have been in his study. indeed, but for fear of too greatly recommending myself, i would have told you earlier, o princess, how he favoured me as one of his teachers." "of poetry and story-telling, i suppose?" "why not?" he asked. "our history is kept and taught in such forms. have we a hero not himself a poet, he keeps one.... upon the prince's table, in the central place, objects of his reverence, the sources to which he most frequently addresses himself when in need of words and happy turns of expression, his standards of comparison for things beautiful in writing and speech, mirrors of the most merciful, whispering galleries wherein the voice of the most compassionate is never silent, are the koran, with illustrations in gold, and the bible in hebrew, copied from _torahs_ of daily use in the synagogues." "the bible in hebrew! does he read it?" "like a jewish elder." "and the gospels?" the sheik's face became reproachful. "art thou--even thou, o princess--of those who believe a moslem must reject christ because the prophet of islam succeeded him with later teachings?" dropping then into the passionless manner, he continued: "the koran does not deny christ or his gospels. hear what it says of itself: 'and this koran is not a forgery of one who is no god, but it hath been sent down as a confirmation of those books which have been before it, and an explanation of the scriptures from the lord of the worlds.' [footnote: the koran] ... that verse, o princess, transcribed by the prince mahommed himself, lies between the bible and the koran; the two being, as i have said, always together upon his table." "what then is his faith?" she asked, undisguisedly interested. "would he were here to declare it himself!" this was said disconsolately; then the sheik broke out: "the truth now of the son of amurath! listen!--he believes in god. he believes in the scriptures and the koran, holding them separate wings of the divine truth by which the world is to attain righteousness. he believes there have been three prophets specially in the confidence of god: moses, the first one; jesus, who was greater than moses; mahomet, the very greatest--not for speaking better or sublimer things, but because he was last in their order of coming. above all, o princess, he believes worship due to the most high alone; therefore he prays the prayer of islam, god is god, and mahomet is his prophet--meaning that the prophet is not to be mistaken for god." the sheik raised his dark eyes, and upon meeting them the princess looked out over the bay. that she was not displeased was the most he could read in her face, the youthful light of which was a little shaded by thinking. he waited for her to speak. "there were other books upon the prince's table?" she presently asked. "there were others, o princess." "canst thou name some of them?" the sheik bowed profoundly. "i see the pearls of ebn hanife's saying were not wasted. mahommed is now to be tried by his tastes and preferences. let it be so.... i saw there, besides dictionaries greek, latin, and hebrew, the encyclopaedia of sciences, a rare and wonderful volume by a granadian moor, ibn abdallah. i saw there the astronomy and astronomical tables of ibn junis, and with them a silver globe perfected from the calculations of almamon the kaliph, which helps us to the geographical principle not yet acknowledged in rome, that the earth is round. i saw there the book of the balance of wisdom by alhazan, who delved into the laws of nature until there is nothing phenomenal left. i saw there the philosophy of azazzali the arab, for which both christian and moslem should be grateful, since it has given philosophy its true place by exalting it into a handmaiden of religion. i saw there books treating of trade and commerce, of arms and armor, and machines for the assault and defence of cities, of military engineering, and the conduct of armies in grand campaigns, of engineering not military, dealing with surveying, and the construction of highways, aqueducts, and bridges, and the laying out of towns. there, also, because the soul of the student must have rest and diversion, i saw volumes of songs and music loved by lovers in every land, and drawings of mosques, churches and palaces, masterpieces of indian and saracenic genius; and of gardens there was the zebra, created by abderrahman for the best loved of his sultanas. of poetry, o princess, i saw many books, the lord of them a copy of homer in arabic, executed on ivory from the translation ordered by haroun al-raschid." during this recital the princess scarcely moved. she was hearing a new version of mahommed; and the sheik, like a master satisfied with his premises, proceeded to conclusions. "my lord has a habit of dreaming, and he does not deny it--he believes in it. in his student days, he called it his rest. he used to say, when his brain reeled in overtask dreaming was a pillow of down and lavender; that in moments of despair, dreaming took his spirit in its hands softer than air, and, nurse-like, whispered and sung to it, and presently it was strong again. not many mornings ago he awoke to find that in a deep sleep some ministrant had come to him, and opened the doors of his heart, and let out its flock of boyish fantasies. he has since known but three visions. would it please you, o princess, to hear of them? they may be useful as threads on which to hang the dervish father's pearls of saying." she re-settled herself, resting her cheek on her hand, and her elbow on the arm of the chair, and replied: "i will hear of them." "the visions have all of them reference to the throne he is soon to ascend, without which they would be the mere jingling of a jester's rattle. "first vision.... he will be a hero. if his soul turned from war, he were not his father's son. but unlike his father, he holds war the servant of peace, and peace the condition essential to his other visions. "second vision.... he believes his people have the genius of the moors, and he will cultivate it in rivalry of that marvellous race." "of the moors, o sheik?" the princess said, interrupting him. "of the moors? i have always heard of them as pillagers of sacred cities--infidels sunk in ignorance, who stole the name of god to excuse invasions and the spilling of rivers of blood." the sheik lifted his head haughtily. "i am an arab, and the moors are arabs translated from the east to the west." "i crave thy pardon," she said, gently. and calming himself, he rejoined: "if i weary you, o princess, there are other subjects to which i can turn. my memory is like the box of sandal-wood a lady keeps for her jewelry. i can open it at will, and always find something to please--better probably because i have it from another." "no," she returned, artlessly, "a hero in actual life transcends the best of fancies--and besides, sheik, you spoke of a third vision of your friend, the prince mahommed." he dropped his eyes lest she should see the brightness with which they filled. "war, my lord says, is a necessity which, as sultan, he cannot avoid. were he disposed to content himself with the empire descending from his great father, envious neighbors would challenge him to the field. he must prove his capacity in defence. that done, he vows to tread the path made white and smooth by abderrahman, the noblest and best of the western kaliphs. he will set out by founding a capital somewhere on the bosphorus. such, o princess, is my lord mahommed's third vision." "nay, sheik--on the marmora--at broussa, perhaps." "i am giving the vision as he gave it to me, princess. for where else, he asks, has the spreading earth diviner features than on the bosphorus? where bends a softer sky above a friendlier channel by nature moulded for nobler uses? where are there seas so bridled and reduced? does not the rose bloom here all the year? yonder the east, here the west--must they be strangers and enemies forever? his capital, he declares, shall be for their entertainment as elder and younger brother. within its walls, which he will build strong as a mountain's base, with gates of brass invulnerable, and towers to descry the clouds below the horizon, he will collect unselfishly whatever is good and beautiful, remembering he serves allah best who serves his fellow-men." "all his fellow-men, sheik?" "all of them." then she glanced over the bay, and said very softly: "it is well; for 'if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others?'" the sheik smiled, saying: "and thus the latest prophet, o princess. 'turn away evil by that which is better; and lo, he between whom and thyself was enmity, shall become as though he were a warm friend.'" [footnote: koran] she answered, "a goodly echo." "shall i proceed?" he then asked. "yes." "i was speaking of the third vision.... to make his capital the centre of the earth, he will have a harbor where ships from every country, and all at once, can come and lie, oars slung and sails furled: and near by for trade, a bazaar with streets of marble, and roofed with glass, and broad and long enough for a city unto itself; and in the midst a khan for lodging the merchants and travellers who have not other houses. and as did abderrahman, he will build a university of vast enclosure; here temples, there groves; nor may a study be named without its teacher, and he the most famous; so the votaries of music and poetry, philosophy, science, and the arts, and the hundred-handed mechanics shall dwell together like soldiers in a holy league. and comes that way one religious, of him but a question, believest thou in god? and if he answer yes, then for him a ready welcome. for of what moment is it, my lord asks, whether god bear this name or that? or be worshipped with or without form? or on foot or knee? or whether the devout be called together by voice or bell? is not faith everything?" the picture wrought upon the princess. her countenance was radiant, and she said half to herself, but so the sheik heard her: "it is a noble vision." then the sheik lowered his voice: "if, with such schemes, excluding races and religions--hear me again, o princess!--if with such schemes or visions, as thou wilt, the lord mahommed allows himself one selfish dream, wouldst thou condemn him?" "what is the selfish dream?" she asked. "he has an open saying, princess, 'light is the life of the world, while love is the light of life.' didst thou ever hear how othman wooed and won his malkatoon?" "no." "it is a turkish tale of love. mahommed had it from his mother when he was a lad, and he has been haunted ever since with a belief which, to his dreaming, is like the high window in the eastern front of a palace, outwardly the expression-giver, within the principal source of light. the idea is strongest what times the moon is in the full; and then he mounts a horse, and hies him, as did othman, to some solitary place where, with imagination for cup-bearer, he drinks himself into happy drunkenness." the sheik, bending forward, caught her eyes with his, and held them so not a glance escaped him. "he thinks--and not all the genii, the winged and the unwinged, of the wisest of kings could win him from the thought--that he will sometime meet a woman who will have the mind, the soul of souls, and the beauty of the most beautiful. when she will cross his vision is one of the undelivered scriptories which time is bringing him; yet he is looking for her, and the more constantly because the first sight of her will be his first lesson in the mystery called love. he will know her, for at seeing her a lamp will light itself in his heart, and by it, not the glare of the sun, his spirit will make sure of her spirit. therefore in his absoluteness of faith, o princess, there is a place already provided for her in his promised capital, and even now he calls it this house of love. ah, what hours he has spent planning that abode! he will seat it in the garden of perfection, for the glorifying which, trees, birds, flowers, summer-houses, water, hill-tops and shaded vales shall be conquered. has he not studied the zehra of abderrahman? and divided it as it was into halls, courts and chambers, and formed and proportioned each, and set and reset its thousand and more columns, and restored the pearls and gold on its walls, and over the wide alhambran arches hung silken doors sheened like paradisean birds? and all that when he shall have found her, his queen, his malkatoon, his spirit of song, his breath of flowers, his lily of summer, his pearl of oman, his moon of radjeb, monotony shall never come where she dwells nor shall she sigh except for him absent. such, o princess irene, is the one dream the prince has builded with the world shut out. does it seem to you a vanity of wickedness?" "no," she returned, and covered her face, for the sheik's look was eager and burning bright. he knelt then, and kissed the marble at her feet. "i am prince mahommed's ambassador, o princess," he said, rising to his knees. "forgive me, if i have dared delay the announcement." "his ambassador! to what end?" "i am afraid and trembling." he kissed the floor again. "assure me of pardon--if only to win me back my courage. it is miserable to be shaken with fear." "thou hast done nothing, sheik, unless drawing thy master's portrait too partially be an offence. speak out." "it is not three days, princess, since you were mahommed's guest." "i his guest--mahommed's!" she arose from her chair. "he received you at the white castle." "and the governor?" "he was the governor." she sunk back overcome with astonishment. the sheik recalled her directly. "prince mahommed," he said, "arrived at the castle when the boats were discovered, and hastened to the landing to render assistance if the peril required it.... and now, o princess, my tongue falters. how can i without offending tell of the excitement into which seeing you plunged him? suffer me to be direct. his first impression was supported by the coincidences--your coming and his, so nearly at the same instant--the place of the meeting so out of the way and strange--the storm seemingly an urgency of heaven. beholding and hearing you, 'this is she! this is she! my queen, my malkatoon!' he cried in his heart. and yesterday"-- "nay, sheik, allow the explanation to wait. bearest thou a message from him to me?" "he bade me salute thee, princess irene, as if thou wert now the lady of his house of love in his garden of perfection, and to pray if he might come and in person kiss thy hand, and tell thee his hopes, and pour out at thy feet his love in heartfuls larger than ever woman had from man." while speaking, the sheik would have given his birthright to have seen her face. then, in a low voice, she asked: "does he doubt i am a christian?" the tone was not of anger; with beatings of heart trebly quickened, he hastened to reply: "'that she is a christian'--may god abandon my mouth, if i quote him unfaithfully!--'that she is a christian, i love her the more. for see you, sheik'--by the faith of an arab, princess, i quote him yet, word for word--'my mother was a christian.'" in the morning of this very day we have seen her put to like question by constantine, and she did not hesitate; now the reply took a time. "say to prince mahommed," she at length returned, "that his message presents itself honorably, for which it is deserving a soft answer. his fancy has played him false. i cannot be the woman of his dream. she is young; i am old, though not with years. she is gay; i am serious. she is in love with life, hopeful, joyous; i was born to sorrow, and in sorrow brought up, and the religion which absorbed my youth is now life's hold on me. she will be delighted with the splendors he has in store for her; so might i, had not the wise man long since caught my ear and judgment by the awful text, vanity of vanities, all is vanity. while her charms endure she will keep him charmed with the world; i could not so much, for the world to come has possession of me, and the days here are but so many of a journey thither. tell him, o sheik, while he has been dreaming of palaces and gardens in rivalry of abderrahman the kaliph, i have been dreaming of a house in splendor beyond the conception of architects; and asks he more about it, tell him i know it only as a house not made with hands. tell him i speak not in denial of possibilities; for by the love i have never failed to accord the good and noble, i might bend my soul to his; to this hour, however, god and his son the christ, and the holy mother, and the angels and deserving men and women have taken up my heart and imagination, and in serving them i have not aspired to other happiness. a wife i might become, not from temptation of gain or power, or in surrender to love--i speak not in derision of the passion, since, like the admitted virtues, it is from god--nay, sheik, in illustration of what may otherwise be of uncertain meaning to him, tell prince mahommed i might become his wife could i by so doing save or help the religion i profess. then, if i brought him love, the sacrifice would rescue it from every taint. canst thou remember all this? and wilt thou deliver it truly?" the sheik's demeanor when she ended was greatly changed; his head was quite upon his breast; his attitude and whole appearance were disconsolate to the last degree. "alas, princess! how can i carry such speech to him, whose soul is consuming with hunger and thirst for thy favor?" "sheik," she said in pity, "no master, i think, had ever a more faithful servant than thou hast proved thyself. thy delivery of his message, could it be preserved, would be a model for heralds in the future." thereupon she arose, extended her hand to him, and he kissed it; and as she remained standing, he arose also. "be seated," she then said, and immediately that they were both in their chairs again, she took direction of the interview. "you asked me, sheik, if i had heard how othman wooed and won his malkatoon, and said it was a turkish romance. the othman, i take it, was founder of prince mahommed's house. now, if thou art not too weary, tell me the story." as the recital afforded him the opportunities to give poetic expression to his present feeling, he accepted the suggestion gladly, and, being in the right mood, was singularly effective. half the time listening she was in tears. it was past three o'clock when he finished. the audience then terminated. in no part of it had her manner been more gracious than when she conducted him along the portico, or her loveliness so overwhelming as when she bade him adieu at the head of the steps. standing between columns near the sedilium, she saw him gain his boat, take something from the sitting-box, step ashore again, and return to her gate, where he remained awhile pounding with a stone. the action was curious, and when he was out of sight rounding the water front of the promontory, she sent lysander to investigate. "the infidel has fixed a brass plate to the right-hand post of the kiosk," the ancient reported, in bad humor. "it may be a curse." the princess then called her attendants, and went with them to see the brass plate. there it was, an arm's reach overhead, and affixed firmly to the post, the corners turned down to serve the tacking. graven on its polished surface was the following: [illustration] wholly unable to decipher it, she sent for a dervish, long resident in the town, and returned to the portico. "princess," the old man said, having viewed the mysterious plate, "he who did the posting was a turk; and if he were aged, i should say thou hast entertained unaware the great amurath, sultan of sultans." "but the man was young." "then was he the son of amurath, prince mahommed." the princess turned pale. "how canst thou speak so positively?" she asked. "it is a _teukra_; in the whole world, o princess, there are but two persons with authority to make use of it." "and who are they?" "the sultan, and mahommed, next him in the succession." in the silence which ensued, lysander officiously proposed to remove the sign. the dervish interposed. "wilt thou hear me, o princess," he said, with a low reverence, "whether the plate proceeded from amurath or mahommed, or by the order of either of them, the leaving it behind signifies more than friendship or favor--it is a safeguard--a proclamation that thou and thy people and property here are under protection of the master of all the turks. were war to break out to-morrow, thou mightest continue in thy palace and garden with none to make thee afraid save thine own countrymen. wherefore consider well before acceding to the rancor of this ancient madman." thus the truth came to the princess irene. the singing sheik was prince mahommed! twice he had appeared before her; in the white castle once, and now in her palace; and having announced himself her lover, and proposed marriage, he intended her to know him, and also that he was not departing in despair. hence the plate on the gate! the circumstance was novel and surprising. her present feelings were too vague and uncertain for definition: but she was not angry. meantime mahommed, returning to the old castle, debated with himself. he loved the princess irene with the passion of a soul unused to denial or disappointment, and before he reached the roumelian hissar he swore a moslem oath to conquer constantinople, less for islam and glory, than for her. and from that hour the great accomplishment took hold of him to the exclusion of all else. at hissar he ascended the mountain, and, standing on the terreplein of the precipice in front of what is now robert college, he marked the narrowness of the bosphorus below, and thinking of the military necessity for a crossing defended on both shores, he selected a site for a castle on the european side opposite the white castle in asia. in due time we will have occasion to notice the creation of the walls and towers of the stupendous fortification yet standing between bebek and hissar, a monument to his energy and sagacity more imposing than anything left by him in constantinople. book iv the palace of blacherne chapter i the palace of blacherne the prince of india was not given to idle expectations. he might deceive others, but he seldom deceived himself. his experience served him prophetically in matters largely dependent on motives ordinarily influential with men. he was confident the emperor would communicate with him, and soon. the third day after the adventure at the white castle, a stranger, mounted, armed, and showily caparisoned, appeared at the prince's door under guidance of uel. in the study, to which he was hidden, he announced himself the bearer of a complimentary message from his majesty, concluding with an invitation to the palace of blacherne. if agreeable, his majesty would be pleased to receive the indian dignitary in the afternoon at three o'clock. an officer of the guard would be at the grand gate for his escort. the honor, needless to say, was accepted in becoming terms. when the prince descended to the hall of entry on the ground floor to take the sedan there, the unusual care given his attire was apparent. his beard was immaculately white. his turban of white silk, balloon in shape, and with a dazzle of precious stones in front, was a study. over a shirt of finest linen, with ruffles of lace at the throat and breast, there was a plain gown of heavy black velvet, buttoned at the neck, but open down to a yellow sash around the waist. the sash was complemented by a belt which was a mass of pearls in relief on a ground of gold embroidery. the belt-plate and crescented sword scabbard were aflame with brilliants on blue enamelling. his trousers, ample as a skirt, were of white satin overflowing at the ankles. pointed red slippers, sparkling with embroidery of small golden beads, completed the costume. the procession in the street was most striking. first nilo, as became a king of kash-cush, barbarously magnificent; the sedan next, on the shoulders of four carriers in white livery; at the rear, two domestics arrayed _a la cipango_, their strange blue garments fitting them so close as to impede their walking; yet as one of them bore his master's paper sunshade and ample cloak, and the other a cushion bloated into the proportions of a huge pillow, they were by no means wanting in self-importance. syama, similarly attired, though in richer material, walked at the side of the sedan, ready to open the door or answer such signal as he might receive from within. the appearance of this retinue in the streets was a show to the idle and curious, who came together as if rendered out of the earth, and in such numbers that before fairly reaching the thoroughfare by which the grand gate of blacherne was usually approached from the city side, the gilded box on the shoulders of its bearers looked, off a little way, not unlike a boat rocking in waves. fortunately the people started in good humor, and meeting nothing to break the mood, they permitted the prince to accomplish his journey without interruption. the companionship of the crowd was really agreeable to him; he hardly knew whether it were pleasanter to be able to excite such respectful curiosity than to gratify it successfully. it might have been otherwise had lael been with him. the very high residence, as the palace of blacherne was generally spoken of by greeks, was well known to the prince of india. the exclamation with which he settled himself in the sedan at setting out from his house--"again, again, o blacherne!"--disclosed a previous personal acquaintance with the royal property. and over and over again on the way he kept repeating, "o blacherne! beautiful blacherne! bloom the roses as of old in thy gardens? do the rivulets in thy alabaster courts still run singing to the mosaic angels on the walls?" as to the date of these recollections, if, as the poets tell us, time is like a flowing river, and memory a bridge for the conveniency of the soul returning to its experiences, how far had this man to travel the structure before reaching the blacherne he formerly knew? over what tremendous spaces between piers did it carry him! the street traversed by the prince carried him first to the grate of st. peter on the golden horn, and thence, almost parallel with the city wall, to balat, a private landing belonging to the emperor, at present known as the gate of blacherne. at the edge of an area marble paved, the people stopped, it being the limit of their privilege. crossing the pavement, the visitor was set down in front of the grand gate of the very high residence. history, always abominating lapses, is yet more tender of some places than others. there, between flanking towers, an iron-plated valve strong enough to defy attack by any of the ancient methods was swung wide open, ready nevertheless to be rolled to at set of sun. the guard halted the prince, and an officer took his name, and apologizing for a brief delay, disappeared with it. alighting from his sedan, the worthy proceeded to take observation and muse while waiting. the paved area on which he stood was really the bottom of a well-defined valley which ran off and up irregularly toward the southeast, leaving an ascent on its right memorable as the seventh hill of constantinople. a stone wall marked here and there by sentinel boxes, each with a red pennon on its top, straggled down along the foot of the ascent to the grand gate. there between octangular towers loopholed and finished battlement style was a covered passage suggestive of egypt. two victories in high relief blew trumpets at each other across the entrance front. ponderous benches of porphyry, polished smooth by ages of usage, sat one on each side for the guards; fellows in helmets of shining brass, cuirasses of the same material inlaid with silver, greaves, and shoes stoutly buckled. those of them sitting sprawled their bulky limbs broadly over the benches. the few standing seemed like selected giants, with blond beards and blue eyes, and axes at least three spans in length along their whetted edges. the prince recognized the imperial guards--danes, saxons, germans, and swiss--their nationalities merged into the corps entitled _varangians_. conscious, but unmindful of their stare, he kept his stand, and swept the hill from bottom to top, giving free rein to memory. in a. d.--he remembered the year and the circumstance well--an earthquake threw down the wall then enclosing the city. theodosius restored it, leaving the whole height outside of this northwestern part a preserve wooded, rocky, but with one possession which had become so infinitely sanctified in byzantine estimation as to impart the quality to all its appurtenances, that was the primitive but very holy church of blacherne, dedicated to the virgin. near the church there was a pleasure house to which the emperors, vainly struggling to escape the ceremonies the clergy had fastened upon them to the imbitterment of life, occasionally resorted, and down on the shore of the golden horn a zoological garden termed the cynegion had been established. the latter afterwhile came to have a gallery in which the public was sometimes treated to games and combats between lions, tigers, and elephants. there also criminals and heretics were frequently carried and flung to the beasts. nor did the prince fail to recall that in those cycles the sovereigns resided preferably in the bucoleon, eastwardly by the sea of marmora. he remembered some of them as acquaintances with whom he had been on close terms--justinian, heraclius, irene, and the porphyrogentes. the iconoclastic masters of that cluster of magnificent tenements, the bucoleon, had especial claims upon his recollection. had he not incited them to many of their savageries? they were incidents, it is true, sadly out of harmony with his present dream; still their return now was with a certain fluttering of the spirit akin to satisfaction, for the victims in nearly every case had been christians, and his business of life then was vengeance for the indignities and sufferings inflicted on his countrymen. with a more decided flutter, he remembered a scheme he put into effect just twenty years after the restoration of the wall by theodosius. in the character of a pious christianized israelite resident in jerusalem, he pretended to have found the vestments of the holy mother of christ. the discovery was of course miraculous, and he reported it circumstantially to the patriarchs galvius and candidus. for the glory of god and the exaltation of the faith, they brought the relics to constantinople. there, amidst most solemn pomp, the emperor assisting, they were deposited in the church of saints peter and mark, to be transferred a little later to their final resting-place in the holier church of the virgin of blacherne. there was a world of pious propriety in the idea that as the vestments belonged to the mother of god they would better become her own house. the _himation_ or _maphorion_, as the robe of the virgin was called, brought the primitive edifice in the woods above the cynegion a boundless increase of sanctity, while the discoverer received the freedom of the city, the reverence of the clergy, and the confidence of the basileus. nor did the prodigious memory stay there. the hill facing the city was of three terraces. on the second one, half hidden among cypress and plane trees, he beheld a building, low, strong, and, from his direction, showing but one window. some sixteen years previous, during his absence in cipango, a fire had destroyed the church of the virgin, and owing to the poverty of the people and empire, the edifice had not been rebuilt. this lesser unpretentious structure was the chapel of blacherne which the flames had considerately spared. he recognized it instantly, and remembered it as full of inestimable relics--amongst them the _himation_, considered indestructible; the holy cross which heraclius, in the year , had brought from jerusalem, and delivered to sergius; and the _panagia blachernitissa_, or all holy banner of the image of the virgin. then rose another reminiscence, and though to reach him it had to fly across a chasm of hundreds of years, it presented itself with the distinctness of an affair of yesterday. in , heraclius being emperor, a legion of avars and persians sacked scutari, on the asiatic side of the bosphorus, and laid siege to constantinople. the byzantines were in awful panic; and they would have yielded themselves had not sergius the patriarch been in control. with a presence of mind equal to the occasion, he brought the _panagia_ forth, and supported by an army of clerics and monks, traversed the walls, waving the all holy banner. a volley of arrows from invisible archers fell upon the audacious infidels, and the havoc was dreadful; they fled, and their prince, the khagan, fled with them, declaring he had seen a woman in shining garments but of awful presence on the walls. the woman was the holy mother; and with a conceit easily mistaken for gratitude, the byzantines declared their capital thenceforward guarded by god. when they went out to the church in the woods and found it unharmed by the enemy, they were persuaded the mother had adopted them; in return, what could they else than adopt her? pisides, the poet, composed a hymn, to glorify her. the church consecrated the day of the miraculous deliverance a fete day observable by greeks forever. the emperor removed the old building, and on its site raised another of a beauty more expressive of devotion. to secure it from ravage and profanation, he threw a strong wall around the whole venerated hill, and by demolishing the ancient work of theodosius, made blacherne a part of the city. by and by the church required enlargement, and it was then cruci-formed by the addition of transepts right and left. still later, a chapel was erected specially for the relics and the all holy banner. this was contiguous to the church, and besides being fireproof, it covered a spring of pure water, afterwards essential in many splendid ceremonies civil as well as religious. the chamber of relics was prohibited to all but the basileus. he alone could enter it. by great favor, the prince of india was once permitted to look into the room, and he remembered it large and dimly lighted, its shadows alive, however, with the glitter of silver and gold in every conceivable form, offered there as the wise men laid their gifts before the child in the cave of the nativity. again and again the church was burned, yet the chapel escaped. it seemed an object of divine protection. the sea might deliver tempests against the seven hills, earthquakes shake the walls down and crack the hanging dome of st. sophia, cinders whiten paths from the porphyry column over by the hippodrome to the upper terrace of blacherne; yet the chapel escaped--yet the holy fountain in its crypt flowed on purer growing as the centuries passed. the prince, whose memories we are but weaving into words, did not wonder at the increase of veneration attaching to the chapel and its precious deposits--manuscripts, books, bones, flags, things personal to the apostles, the saints, the son and his mother, parings of their nails, locks of their hair, spikes and splinters of the cross itself--he did not wonder at it, or smile, for he knew there is a devotional side to every man which wickedness may blur but cannot obliterate. he himself was going about the world convinced that the temple of solomon was the house of god. the guards sprawling on the benches kept staring at him; one of them let his axe fall without so much as attracting the prince's attention. his memory, with a hold on him too firm to be disturbed by such trifles, insisted on its resurrectionary work, and returned him to the year . constantinople was again besieged, this time by a horde from the russian wilderness under the chiefs dir and askold. they had passed the upper sea in hundreds of boats, and disembarking on the european shore, marched down the bosphorus, leaving all behind them desolate. photius was then patriarch. when the fleet was descried from the walls, he prevailed on the emperor to ask the intervention of the virgin. the _maphorion_ or sacred robe was brought out, and in presence of the people on their knees, the clergy singing the hymn of pisides, the holy man plunged it into the waves. a wind arose under which the water in its rocky trough was as water in a shaken bowl. the ships of the invaders sunk each other. not one survived. of the men, those who lived came up out of the vortexes praying to be taken to the church of blacherne for baptism. this was two hundred years and more after the first deliverance of the city, and yet the mother was faithful to her chosen!--constantinople was still the guarded of god!--the _penagia_ was still the all holy! having repulsed the muscovite invasion, what excuse for his blasphemy would there be left the next to challenge its terrors? the prince of india saw the blackened walls of the burned church, an appealing spectacle which the surrounding trees tried to cover with their foliage, but could not; then he lifted his eyes to the palace upon the third terrace. to the hour decay sets in the touches of time are usually those of an artist who loves his subject, and wishes merely to soften or ennoble its expression. so had he dealt with the very high residence. it began in the low ground down by the cynegion, and arose with the city wall, which was in fact its southwestern front. though always spoken of in the singular, like the bucoleon, it was a collection of palaces, vast, irregular, and declarative of the taste of the different eras they severally memorialized. the spaces between them formed courts and _places_ under cover; yet as the architects had adhered to the idea of a main front toward the northeast, there appeared a certain unity of design in the structures. this main front, now under the prince's view, was frequently broken, advancing here, retreating there; one section severely plain and sombre; another relieved by porticos with figured friezes resting on tall columns. the irregularities were pleasing; some of them were stately; and they were all helped not a little by domes and pavilions without which the roof lines would have been monotonous. lifting his gaze up the ascent from the low ground, it rested presently on a tower built boldly upon the heraclian wall. this was the highest pinnacle of the palace, first to attract the observer, longest to hold his attention. no courier was required to tell its history to him through whose eyes we are now looking--it was the tower of isaac angelus. how clearly its outlines cut the cloudless sky! how strong it seemed up there, as if built by giants! yet with windows behind balconies, how airy and graceful withal! the other hills of the city, and the populated valleys between the hills, spread out below it, like an unrolled map. the warders of the bucoleon, or what is now point serail, the home-returning mariner shipping oars off scutari, the captain of the helmeted column entering the golden gate down by the seven towers, the insolent genoese on the wharves of galata, had only to look up, and lo! the perch of isaac. and when, as often must have happened, the privileged lord himself sat midafternoons on the uppermost balcony of the tower, how the prospect soothed the fever of his spirit! if he were weary of the city, there was the marmora, always ready to reiterate the hues of the sky, and in it the isles of the princes, their verdurous shades permeated with dreamful welcome to the pleasure-seeker as well as the monk; or if he longed for a further flight, old asia made haste with enticing invitation to some of the villas strewing its littoral behind the isles; and yonder, to the eye fainting in the distance, scarce more than a pale blue boundary cloud, the mountain beloved by the gods, whither they were wont to assemble at such times as they wished to learn how it fared with ilium and the sons of priam, or to enliven their immortality with loud symposia. a prospect so composed would seem sufficient, if once seen, to make a blind man's darkness perpetually luminous. sometimes, however, the superlative magnate preferred the balcony on the western side of the tower. there he could sit in the shade, cooled by waftures from a wide campania southward, or, peering over the balustrade, watch the peasantry flitting through the breaks of the kosmidion, now the purlieus of eyoub. again the prince was carried back through centuries. it had been determined to build at blacherne; but the hill was steep. how could spaces be gained for foundations, for courts and gardens? the architects pondered the problem. at last one of bolder genius came forward. we will accept the city wall for a western front, he said, and build from it; and for levels, allow us to commence at the foot of the height, and rear arches upon arches. the proposal was accepted; and thereafter for years the quarter was cumbered with brick and skeleton frames, and workingmen were numerous and incessantly busy as colonized ants. thus the ancient pleasure house disappeared, and the first formal high residence took its place; at the same time the bucoleon, for so many ages the glory of constantinople, was abandoned by its masters. who was the first permanent occupant of the palace of blacherne? the memory, theretofore so prompt, had now no reply. no matter--the prince recalled sessions had with angelus on the upper balcony yonder. he remembered them on account of his host one day saying: "here i am safe." the next heard of him he was a captive and blind. passing on rapidly, he remembered the appearance of peter the hermit in the gorgeous reception room of the palace in . quite as distinctly, he also remembered the audience alexis i. tendered godfrey of bouillon and his barons in the same high residence. what a contrast the host and his guests presented that day! the latter were steel clad from head to foot and armed for battle, while alexis was a spectacle of splendor unheard of in the barbarous west. how the preachers and eunuchs in the silk-gowned train of the one trembled as the redoubtables of the west mangled the velvet carpets with their cruel spurs! how peculiarly the same redoubtables studied the pearls on the yellow stole of the wily comnene and the big jewels in his basilean mitre--as if they were counting and weighing them mentally, preliminary to casting up at leisure a total of value! and the table ware--this plate and yon bowl--were they really gold or some cunning deception? the greeks were so treacherous! and when the guests were gone, the greeks, on their part, were not in the least surprised at the list of spoons and cups subtly disappeared--gifts, they supposed, intended by the noble "crosses" for the most holy altar in jerusalem! still other remembrances of the prince revived at sight of the palace--many others--amongst them, how the varangians beat the boastful montferrat and the burly count of flanders in the assault of , specially famous for the gallantry of old dandolo, operating with his galleys on the side of the golden horn. brave fellows, those varangians! was the corps well composed now as then? he glanced at the lusty examples before him on the stone benches, thinking they might shortly have to answer the question. these reminiscences, it must not be forgotten, were of brief passage with the prince, much briefer than the time taken in writing them. they were interrupted by the appearance of a military official whose uniform and easy manner bespoke palace life. he begged to be informed if he had the honor of addressing the prince of india; and being affirmatively assured, he announced himself sent to conduct him to his majesty. the hill was steep, and the way somewhat circuitous; did the prince need assistance? the detention, he added, was owing to delay in getting intelligence of the prince's arrival to his majesty, who had been closely engaged, arranging for certain ceremonies which were to occur in the evening. perhaps his majesty had appointed the audience imagining the ceremonies might prove entertaining to the prince. these civilities, and others, were properly responded to, and presently the cortege was in motion. the lower terrace was a garden of singular perfection. on the second terrace, the party came to the ruined church where, during a halt, the officer told of the fire. his majesty had registered a vow, he said, at the end of the story, to rebuild the edifice in a style superior to any former restoration. the prince, while listening, observed the place. excepting the church, it was as of old. there the grove of cypresses, very ancient, and tall and dark. there, too, the chapel of purplish stone, and at one side of it the sentry box and bench, and what seemed the identical detail of varangians on duty. there the enclosed space between the edifices, and the road across the pavement to the next terrace only a little deeper worn. there the arched gateway of massive masonry through which the road conducted, the carving about it handsome as ever; and there, finally, from the base of the chapel, the brook, undiminished in volume and song, ran off out of sight into the grove, an old acquaintance of the prince's. moving on through the arched way, the guide led up to the third and last terrace. near the top there was a cut, and on its right embankment a party of workmen spreading and securing a canopy of red cloth. "observe, o prince," the officer said. "from this position, if i mistake not, you will witness the ceremony i mentioned as in preparation." the guest had time to express his gratification, when the palace of blacherne, the very high residence, burst upon him in long extended view, a marvel of imperial prodigality and byzantine genius. chapter ii the audience the sedan was set down before a marble gate on the third terrace. "my duty is hardly complete. suffer me to conduct you farther," the officer said, politely, as the prince stepped from the box. "and my servants?" "they will await you." the speakers were near the left corner of a building which projected considerably from the general front line of the palace. the wall, the gateway, and the building were of white marble smoothly dressed. after a few words with syama, the prince followed his guide into a narrow enclosure on the right of which there was a flight of steps, and on the left a guard house. ascending the steps, the two traversed a passage until they came to a door. "the waiting-room. enter," said the conductor. four heavily curtained windows lighted the apartment. in the centre there were a massive table, and, slightly removed from it, a burnished copper brazier. bright-hued rugs covered the floor, and here and there stools carven and upholstered were drawn against the painted walls. the officer, having seen his charge comfortably seated, excused himself and disappeared. hardly was he gone when two servants handsomely attired came in with refreshments--fruits in natural state, fruits candied, sweetened bread, sherbet, wine and water. a chief followed them, and, with much humility of manner, led the prince to a seat at the table, and invited him to help himself. the guest was then left alone; and while he ate and drank he wondered at the stillness prevalent; the very house seemed in awe. ere long another official entered, and after apologizing for introducing himself, said: "i am dean of the court. in the absence of my lord phranza, it has fallen to me to discharge, well as i can, the duties of grand chamberlain." the prince, observant of the scrutinizing glance the dean gave his person, acknowledged the honor done him, and the pleasure he derived from the acquaintance. the dean ought to be happy; he had great fame in the city and abroad as a most courteous, intelligent, and faithful servant; there was no doubt he deserved preeminently the confidence his royal master reposed in him. "i am come, o prince," the old functionary said, after thanks for the friendly words, "to ascertain if you are refreshed, and ready for the audience." "i am ready." "let us to his majesty then. if i precede you, i pray pardon." drawing the portiere aside, the dean held it for the other's passage. they entered an extensive inner court, surrounded on three sides by a gallery resting on pillars. on the fourth side, a magnificent staircase ascended to a main landing, whence, parting right and left, it terminated in the gallery. floor, stairs, balustrading, pillars, everything here was red marble flooded with light from a circular aperture in the roof open to the sky. along the stairs, at intervals, officers armed and in armor were stationed, and keeping their positions faced inwardly, they seemed like statues. other armed men were in the galleries. the silence was impressive. coming presently to an arched door, the prince glanced into a deep chamber, and at the further end of it beheld the emperor seated in a chair of state on a dais curtained and canopied with purple velvet. "take heed now, o prince," said the dean, in a low voice. "yonder is his majesty. do thou imitate me in all things. come." with this kindly caution the dean led into the chamber of public audience. just within the door, he halter, crossed hands upon his breast, and dropped to his knees, his eyes downcast; rising, he kept on about halfway to the dais, and again knelt; when near his person's length from the dais, he knelt and fully prostrated himself. the prince punctiliously executed every motion, except that at the instant of halting the last time he threw both hands up after the manner of orientals. a velvet carpet of the accepted imperial color stretched from door to dais greatly facilitated the observances. a statuesque soldier, with lance and shield, stood at the left of the dais, a guard against treachery; by the chair, bare-headed, bare-legged, otherwise a figure in a yellow tunic lightly breastplated, appeared the sword-bearer, his slippers stayed with bands of gold, a blade clasped to his body by the left forearm, the hilt above his shoulder; and spacious as the chamber was, a row of dignitaries civil, military, and ecclesiastical lined the walls each in prescribed regalia. the hush already noticed was observable here, indicative of rigid decorum and awful reverence. "rise, prince of india," the emperor said, without movement. the visitor obeyed. the last of the palaeologae was in basilean costume; a golden circlet on his head brilliantly jewelled and holding a purple velvet cap in place; an overgown of the material of the cap but darker in tint, and belted at the waist; a mantle stiff with embroidery of pearls hanging by narrow bands so as to drop from the shoulder over the breast and back, leaving the neck bare; an ample lap-robe of dark purple cloth sparkling with precious stones covering his nether limbs. the chair was square in form without back or arms; its front posts twined and intricately inlaid with ivory and silver, and topped each with a golden cone for hand-rest. the bareness of the neck was relieved by four strings of pearls dropped from the circlet two on a side, and drawn from behind the ears forward so as to lightly tip the upper edge of the mantle. the right hand rested at the moment on the right cone of the chair; the left was free. the attitude of the figure thus presented was easy and unconstrained, the countenance high and noble, and altogether the guest admitted to himself that he had seldom been introduced to royalty more really imposing. there was hardly an instant allowed for these observations. to set his guest at ease, constantine continued: "the way to our door is devious and upward. i hope it has not too severely tried you." "your majesty, were the road many times more trying i would willingly brave it to be the recipient of honors and attentions which have made the emperor of constantinople famous in many far countries, and not least in mine." the courtierly turn of the reply did not escape the emperor. it had been strange if he had not put the character of his guest to question; indeed, an investigation had proceeded by his order, with the invitation to audience as a result; and now the self-possession of the stranger, together with his answer, swept the last doubt from, the imperial mind. an attendant, responding to a sign, came forward. "bring me wine," and as the servant disappeared with the order, constantine again addressed his visitor. "you maybe a brahman or an islamite," he said, with a pleasant look to cover any possible mistake: "in either case, o prince, i take it for granted that the offer of a draught of chian will not be resented." "i am neither a mohammedan, nor a devotee of the gentle son of maya. i am not even a hindoo in religion. my faith leads me to be thankful for all god's gifts to his creatures. i will take the cup your majesty deigns to propose." the words were spoken with childlike simplicity of manner; yet nowhere in these pages have we had a finer example of the subtlety which, characteristic of the speaker, seemed inspiration rather than study. he knew from general report how religion dominated his host, and on the spur of the moment, thought to pique curiosity with respect to his own faith; seeing, as he fancied, a clear path to another audience, with ampler opportunity to submit and discuss the idea of universal brotherhood in god. the glance with which he accompanied assent to the cup was taken as a mere accentuation of gratitude; it was, however, for discovery. had the emperor noticed the declaration of what he was not? did his intelligence suggest how unusual it was for an indian to be neither a mohammedan, nor a brahman, nor even a buddhist in religion? he saw a sudden lifting of the brows, generally the preliminary of a question; he even made an answer ready; but the other's impulse seemed to spend itself in an inquiring look, which, lingering slightly, might mean much or nothing. the prince resolved to wait. constantine, as will be seen presently, did observe the negations, and was moved to make them the subject of remark at the moment; but inordinately sensitive respecting his own religious convictions, he imagined others like himself in that respect, and upon the scruple, for which the reader will not fail to duly credit him, deferred inquiry until the visitor was somewhat better understood. just then the cupbearer appeared with the wine; a girlish lad he was, with long blond curls. kneeling before the dais, he rested a silver platter and the liquor sparkling on it in a crystal decanter upon his right knee, waiting the imperial pleasure. taking the sign given him, the dean stepped forward and filled the two cups of chased gold also on the platter, and delivered them. then the emperor held his cup up while he said in a voice sufficiently raised for general hearing: "prince of india, i desired your presence to-day the rather to discharge myself of obligations for important assistance rendered my kinswoman, the princess irene of therapia, during her detention at the white castle; a circumstance of such late occurrence it must be still fresh in your memory. by her account the governor was most courteous and hospitable, and exerted himself to make her stay in his stronghold agreeable as possible. something truly extraordinary, considering the forbidding exterior of the house, and the limited means of entertainment it must have to offer, she declared he succeeded in converting what threatened to be a serious situation into an adventure replete with pleasant surprises. a delegate is now at the castle assuring the governor of my appreciation of his friendly conduct. by her account, also, i am bounden to you, prince, scarcely less than to him." the gravity of the visitor at hearing this was severely attacked. great as was his self-control, he smiled at thought of the dilemma the governor was in, listening to a speech of royal thanks and receiving rich presents in lieu of his young master mahommed. when the envoy returned and reported, if perchance he should describe the turk whom he found in actual keeping of the castle, the discrepancy between his picture of the man and that of the princess would be both mysterious and remarkable. "your majesty," the prince returned, with a deprecating gesture, "the storm menaced me quite as much as the princess, and calls for confession of my inability to see wherein i rendered her service free of regard for myself. indeed, it is my duty to inform your majesty, all these noble witnesses hearing me, that i am more beholden to your noble kinswoman for help and deliverance in the affair than she can be to me. but for the courage and address, not to mention the dignity and force with which she availed herself of her royal relationship, resolving what was at first a simple invitation to refuge into a high treaty between the heads of two great powers, i and my daughter"-- "daughter, said you?" "yes, your majesty--heaven has so favored me--i, my daughter, and my frightened boatmen would have been committed to the river near the castle, without recourse except in prayer to heaven. nay, your majesty, have i permission to say on, charity had never a sweeter flowering than when the princess remembered to take the stranger under her protection. i am past the age of enthusiasm and extravagance--my beard and dimming eyes prove the admission--yet i declare, weighing each word, she has the wit, the spirit, the goodness, the loveliness to be the noblest of queens to the best of kings; and fails she such choice, it will be because destiny has been struck by some unaccountable forgetfulness." by this time the courtiers, drawn in from the walls, composed a very brilliant circle around the throne, each one curious to hear the stranger as he had been to see him; and they were quick to point his last sentence; for most of them had been with the emperor in the voyage to therapia, which was still a theme of wager and wrangle scarcely less interesting than in its first hour. by one impulse they ventured a glance at the royal face, seeking a revelation; but the countenance was steady as a mask. "the encomium is well bestowed, and approves thy experience, prince, as a reader of women," constantine said, with just enough fervor. "henceforth i shall know the degree of trust to repose in thy judgment, other problems as difficult being in controversy. nevertheless, is the lady to be believed, then, o prince, i repeat my acknowledgment of indebtedness. it pleases me to greatly estimate thy influence and good judgment happily exerted. mayst thou live long, prince of india, and always find thyself as now among friends who charge themselves to be watchful for opportunities to befriend thee." he raised the cup. "it is your majesty's pleasure," the guest replied, and they drank together. "a seat for the prince of india," the emperor next directed. the chair, when brought, was declined. "in my palace--for at home i exercise the functions of a king--it often falls to me to give audiences; if public, we call them _durbars;_ and then an inferior may not sit in my presence. the rule, like all governing the session, is of my own enactment. i see plainly how greatly your majesty designs to heap me with honors; and if i dare decline this one, it is not from disposition to do a teacher's part, but from habit which has the sanction of heredity, and the argument self addressed: shall i despise my own ordinances? god forbid!" a murmur from the concourse was distinctly audible, which the dean interpreted by repeated affirmative nods. in other words, by this stroke the able visitor won the court as he had already won its head; insomuch that the most doubting of the doubters would not have refused to certify him on belief the very prince of india he claimed to be. the emperor, on his part, could not but defer to scruples so cogently and solemnly put; at the same time, out of his very certainty respecting the guest, he passed to a question which in probability the reader has been for some time entertaining. "the makers of a law should be first to observe it; for having done so, they then have god's license to exert themselves in its enforcement; and when one is found observant of a principle which has root so perceptibly in conscience, to deny him his pleasure were inexcusable. have thy will, prince." the applause which greeted the decision of his majesty was hardly out of ear when he proceeded: "again i pray you, sir guest--i greatly misapprehend the travellers who tell of india, if the people of that venerable country are not given to ceremonials religious as well as secular. many of our own observances of a sacred nature are traceable to study and discernment of the good effects of form in worship, and since some of them are unquestionably borrowed from temples of the pagan gods, yet others may be of hindoo origin. who shall say? wherefore, speaking generally, i should fear to ask you to any of our church mysteries which i did not know were purely greek. one such we have this evening. we call it _pannychides_. its principal feature is a procession of monastic brethren from the holy houses of the city and islands--all within the jurisdiction of our eastern church, which, please god, is of broader lines than our state. the fathers have been assembling for the celebration several days. they will form in the city at set of sun, throwing the march into the night. here, within our grounds, more particularly at the door of the chapel of our holy virgin of blacherne, i will meet them. they will pass the night in prayer, an army on bended knees, sorrowing for the pains of our saviour in gethsemane. i was uncertain what faith you profess; yet, prince, i thought--forgive me, if it was an error--a sight of the spirit of our churchmen as it will be manifested on this occasion might prove interesting to you; so i have taken the liberty of ordering a stand erected for your accommodation at a position favorable to witnessing the procession in movement up the terraces. no one has seen the spectacle without realizing as never before the firmness of the hold christ has taken upon the souls of men." the last words startled the prince. christ's hold upon the souls of men! the very thing he wanted to learn, and, if possible, measure. a cloud of thoughts fell about him; yet he kept clear head, and answered quietly: "your majesty has done me great kindness. i am already interested in the mystery. since we cannot hope ever to behold god with these mortal eyes, the nearest amend for the deprivation is the privilege of seeing men in multitudes demonstrating their love of him." constantine's eyes lingered on the prince's face. the utterances attracted him. the manner was so artfully reverential as not to leave a suspicion of the guile behind it. going down great galleries, every one has had his attention suddenly arrested; he pauses, looks, and looks again, then wakes to find the attraction was not a picture, but only a flash within his own mind. so, with the guest before him, the emperor was thinking of the man rather than seeing him--thinking of him with curiosity fully awakened, and a desire to know him better. and had he followed up the desire, he would have found its source in the idea that india was a region in which reflection and psychological experiment had been exhausted--where if one appeared with a thought it turned old ere it could be explained--where wisdom had fructified until there was no knowledge more--where the teaching capacity was all there was remaining. that is to say, in the day of the last byzantine emperor, centuries ago, humanity in india was, as now, a clock stopped, but stopped in the act of striking, leaving a glory in the air imaginable like the continuing sound of hushed cathedral bells. "prince," he at length said, "you will remain here until the procession is announced at the grand gate. i will then give you a guide and a guard. our steward has orders to look after your comfort." turning then to the acting chamberlain, he added: "good dean, have we not a little time in which to hear our guest further?" "your majesty, an hour at least." "you hear, o prince? provided always that it be not to your displeasure, tell me what i am to understand by the disclaimer which, broadly interpreted, leaves you either a jew or a christian?" chapter iii the new faith proclaimed the question came earlier than the prince expected, and in different form. those in position to observe his face saw it turn a trifle pale, and he hesitated, and glanced around uneasily, as though not altogether assured of his footing. this might have been by-play; if so, it was successful; every countenance not sympathetic was serious. "your majesty's inquiry must be for information. i am too humble for an unfriendly design on the part of one so exalted as the emperor of constantinople. it might be otherwise if i represented a church, a denomination, or a recognized religion; as it is, my faith is my own." "but bethink thee, prince, thou mayst have the truth--the very god's truth," constantine interposed, with kindly intent. "we all know thy country hath been the cradle of divine ideas. so, speak, and fear not." the glance the emperor received was winsomely grateful. "indeed, your majesty, indeed i have need of good countenance. the question put me has lured more men to bloody graves than fire, sword and wave together. and then why i believe as i believe demands time in excess of what we have; and i am the bolder in this because in limiting me your majesty limits yourself. so i will now no more than define my faith. but first, it does not follow from my disclaimer that i can only be a jew or a christian; for as air is a vehicle for a multitude of subtleties in light, faith in like manner accommodates a multitude of opinions." while speaking, the prince's voice gradually gained strength; his color returned, and his eyes enlarged and shone with strange light. now his right hand arose, the fingers all closed except the first one, and it was long and thin, and he waved it overhead, like a conjuring wand. if the concourse had been unwilling to hear him, they could not have turned away. "i am not a hindoo, my lord; because i cannot believe men can make their own gods." the father confessor to the emperor, at the left of the dais in a stole of gold and crimson cloth, smiled broadly. "i am not a buddhist," the prince continued; "because i cannot believe the soul goes to nothingness after death." the father confessor clapped his hands. "i am not a confucian; because i cannot reduce religion to philosophy or elevate philosophy into religion." the blood of the audience began to warm. "i am not a jew; because i believe god loves all peoples alike, or if he makes distinctions, it is for righteousness' sake." here the chamber rang with clapping. "i am not an islamite; because when i raise my eyes to heaven, i cannot tolerate sight of a man standing between me and god--no, my lord, not though he be a prophet." the hit was palpable, and from hate of the old enemy, the whole assemblage broke into an uproar of acclamation. only the emperor kept his gravity. leaning heavily on the golden cone at the right of his chair, his chin depressed, his eyes staring, scarcely breathing, he waited, knowing, that having gone so far, there was before the speaker an unavoidable climax; and seeing it in his face, and coming, he presently aroused, and motioned for silence. "i am not"-- the prince stopped, but when the hush was deepest went on--"i am not a christian; because--because i believe--god is god." the father confessor's hands were ready to clap, but they stayed so; the same spell took hold of the bystanders, except that they looked at the emperor, and he alone seemed to comprehend the concluding phrase. he settled back easily in his seat, saying, "thy faith then is--" "god!" the monosyllable was the prince's. and with clear sight of the many things reprobated--images, saints, the canonized, even the worship of christ and the holy mother--with clear sight also of the wisdom which in that presence bade the guest stop with the mighty name--at the same time more curious than ever to hear in full discourse the man who could reduce religion to a single word and leave it comprehensible, constantine drew a breath of relief, and said, smiling, "of a surety, o prince, there was never a faith which, with such appearance of simplicity in definition, is capable of such infinity of meaning. i am full of questions; and these listening, my lords of the court, are doubtless in a similar mood. what sayest thou, o my most orthodox confessor?" the father bowed until the hem of his blazing stole overlaid the floor. "your majesty, we too are believers in god; but we also believe in much beside; so, if but for comparison of creeds, which is never unprofitable while in good nature, i should like to hear the noble and fair speaking guest further." "and you, my lords?" the throng around answered, "yes, yes!" "we will have it so then. look, good logothete, for the nearest day unoccupied." a handsome man of middle age approached the dais, and opening a broad-backed book, evidently the record of the royal appointments, turned a number of leaves, and replied: "your majesty, two weeks from tomorrow." "note the same set aside for the prince of india.-dost hear, prince?" the latter lowered his face the better to conceal his pleasure. "all days are alike to me," he answered. "in this our palace, then--two weeks from to-morrow at the hour of noon. and now"--the rustle and general movement of the courtiers was instantly stayed--"and now, prince, didst thou not speak of exercising the functions of a king at home? thy capital must be in india, but where, pray? and how callest thou thyself? and why is this city so fortunate as to have attracted thy wandering feet? it is not every king so his own master as to turn traveller, and go about making study of the world; although, i admit, it would be better could every king do so." these questions were rapidly put, but as the prince was prepared for them, he responded pleasantly: "in answering the questions your majesty now honors me with. i am aware how serious the mistake would be did i think of your curiosity alone. a most excellent quality in a great man is patience. alas, that it should be one of the most abused! ... among the oldest of hindoo titles is _rajah_. it means king rather than prince, and i was born to it. your majesty may have heard of oodeypoor, the bosom jewel of rajpootana, the white rose just bloomed of indian cities. at the foot of a spur of the arawalli mountains, a river rises, and on its right bank reposes the city; from which, southeast a little way, a lake lies outspread, like a mirror fallen face upward. and around the lake are hills, tall and broken as these of the bosphorus; and seen from the water the hills are masses of ivy and emerald woods thickly sprinkled with old fortresses and temples, and seven-roofed red pagodas, each the home of a great gold-decked buddha, with lesser buddhas in family. and in the lake are islands all palaces springing from the water line in open arches, and sculptured walls, and towered gates; and of still days their wondrous cunning in the air is renewed afresh in the waveless depths below them. if they are glorious then, what are they when reconstructed for festal nights in shining lamps? for be it said, my lord, if a stranger in the walls of this centre of empire may speak a word which has the faintest savor of criticism, the indian genius analyzed beauty before there was a west, and taking suggestions from spark and dewdrop, applied them to architecture. smile not, i pray, for you may see the one in the lamp multiplied for outline traceries, and the other in the fountain, the cascade, and the limpid margin at the base of walls. or if still you think me exaggerating, is not the offence one to be lightly forgiven where the offender is telling of his birthplace? in one of the palaces of that lake of palaces i was born, the oldest son of the rajah of meywar, oodeypoor his capital. in these words, which i hope may be kindly judged, your majesty will find answers to one, if not two of the questions you were pleased to ask me--why i am here? and why making study of the world? will your majesty pardon my boldness, if i suggest that a reply to those inquiries would be better at the audience set for me next? i fear it is too long for telling now." "be it so," said constantine, "yet a hint of it may not be amiss. it may set us to thinking; and, prince, a mind prepared for an idea is like ground broken and harrowed for seed." the prince hesitated. "your majesty--my lord"--he then said firmly, "the most sorrowful of men are those with conceptions too great for them, and which they must carry about with nothing better to sustain their sinking spirits than a poor hope of having them one day adopted; for until that day they are like a porter overladen and going from house to house unknowing the name of the owner of his burden or where to look for him. i am such an unfortunate.... oodeypoor, you must understand, is more than comely to the eye of a native; it is a city where all religions are tolerated. the taing, the brahman, the hindoo, the mohammedan, the buddhist live together there, protected and in peace, with their worship and houses of worship; nor is there any shutting of mouths, because controversy long since attained finality amongst them; or perhaps it were better saying, because opinions there have now their recognized grooves, and run in them from generation to generation--opinions to which men are born as to their property, only without right of change or modification; neither can they break away from them. there is no excuse if an intelligent man in such a situation does not comprehend all the religions thus in daily practice; or if one does comprehend them he should not flatter himself possessed of any superior intellect.... the rajah, my father, died, and i mounted his silver throne, and for ten years administered justice in the hall of durbars to which he had been used, he and his father's father, children of the sun, most pure of blood. by that time i was of mature mind, and having given myself up to study, came to believe there is but one doctrine--principle--call it what you will, my lord--but one of heavenly origin--one primarily comprehensible by all--too simple indeed to satisfy the egotism of men; wherefore, without rejecting, they converted it into a foundation, and built upon it each according to his vanity, until, in course of ages, the foundation was overlaid with systems of belief, childish, unnatural, ridiculous, indecent, or else too complicated for common understanding"-- "this principle--what is it, prince?" constantine asked nervously. "your majesty, i have already once named it." "mean you god?" "and now, my lord, thou hast pronounced it." the stillness in the chamber was very deep. every man seemed to be asking, what next? "one day, your majesty--it was in my tenth year of government--a function was held in a tent erected for the purpose--a _shamiana_ vastly larger than any hall. i went up to it in state, passing through lines of elephants, an hundred on either hand, covered with cloth of gold and with houdahs of yellow silk roofed with the glory of peacocks. behind the mighty brutes soldiery blotted out the landscape, and the air between them and the sky was a tawny cloud of flaunting yak-tails; nor had one use for ears, so was he deafened by beat of drums and blowing of brazen horns twice a tall man's height. i sat on a throne of silver and gold, all my ministers present. my brother entered, he the next entitled. halfway down the aisle of chiefs i met him, and then led him to my seat, and saluted him rajah of meywar. your majesty, so i parted with crown and title--laid them down voluntarily to search the world for men in power in love with god enough to accept him as their sum of faith. behold why i travel making the earth a study! behold why i am in constantinople!" constantine was impressed. "where hast thou been?" he at length asked--"where before coming here?" "it were easier did your majesty ask where i have not been. for then i could answer, everywhere, except rome." "dost thou impugn our devotion to god?" "not so, not so, my lord! i am seeking to know the degree of your love of him." "how, prince?" "by a test." "what test?" no man listening could have said what mood the emperor was in; yet the guest replied with an appearance of rising courage: "a trial, to find all the other things entering into faith which your majesty and your majesty's lords and subjects are willing to lay down for god's sake." with a peremptory gesture constantine silenced the stir and rustle in the chamber. "it is right boldly put," he said. "but none the less respectfully. my lord, i am striving to be understood." "you speak of a trial. to what end?" "one article of faith, the all-essential of universal brotherhood in religion." "a magnificent conception! but is it practicable?" fortunately or unfortunately for the prince, an officer that moment made way through the courtiers, and whispered to the dean, who at once addressed himself to the emperor. "i pray pardon, but it pleased your majesty to bid me notify you when it is time to make ready for the mystery to-night. the hour is come; besides which a messenger from scholarius waits for an interview." constantine arose. "thanks, worthy dean," he said; "we will not detain the messenger. the audience is dismissed." then descending from the dais, he gave his hand to the prince. "i see the idea you have in mind, and it is worthy the bravest effort. i shall look forward to the next audience with concern. forget not that the guestship continues. my steward will take you in charge. farewell." the prince, sinking to his knees, kissed the offered hand, whereupon the emperor said as if just reminded: "was not your daughter with my kinswoman in the white castle?" "your majesty, the princess on that occasion most graciously consented to accept my daughter as her attendant." "were she to continue in the same attendance, prince, we might hope to have her at court some day." "i lay many thanks at your majesty's feet. she is most honored by the suggestion." constantine in lead of his officers then passed out, while, in care of the steward, the prince was conducted to the reception room, and served with refreshments. afterwhile through the windows he beheld the day expiring, and the first audience finished, and the second appointed, he was free to think of the approaching mystery. be it said now he was easy in feeling--satisfied with the management of his cause--satisfied with the impression he had made on the emperor and the court as well. had not the latter applauded and voted to hear him again? when taken with the care habitually observed by leading personages in audiences formal as that just passed, how broadly sympathetic the expressions of the monarch had been. in great cheerfulness the prince ate and drank, and even occupied the wine-colored leisure conning an argument for the occasion in prospect--noon, next day two weeks! and more clearly than ever his scheme seemed good. could he carry it through--could he succeed--the good would be recognized--never a doubt of that. if men were sometimes blind, god was always just. in thought he sped forward of the coming appointment, and saw himself not only the apostle of the reform, but the chosen agent, the accredited go-between of constantine and the young mahommed. he remembered the points of negotiation between them. he would not require the turk to yield the prophetic character of mahomet; neither should the byzantine's faith in christ suffer curtailment; he would ask them, however, to agree to a new relation between mahomet and christ on the one side and god on the other--that, namely, long conceded, as having existed between god and elijah. and then, an article of the utmost materiality, the very soul of the recast religion, he would insist that they obligate themselves to worship god alone, worship being his exclusive prerogative, and that this condition of exclusive worship be prescribed the only test of fraternity in religion; all other worship to be punishable as heresy. nor stopped he with mahommed and constantine; he doubted not bringing the rabbis to such a treaty. how almost identical it was with the judaism of moses. the bishop of rome might protest. what matter? romanism segregated must die. and so the isms of the brahman and the hindoo, so the buddhist, the confucian, the mencian--they would all perish under the hammering of the union. then, too, time would make the work perfect, and gradually wear christ and mahomet out of mind--he and time together. what if the task did take ages? he had an advantage over other reformers--he could keep his reform in motion--he could guide and direct it--he could promise himself life to see it in full acceptance. in the exuberance of triumphant feeling, he actually rejoiced in his doom, and for the moment imagined it more than a divine mercy. chapter iv the pannychides an invitation from the emperor to remain and view the procession marching up the heights of blacherne had been of itself a compliment; but the erection of a stand for the prince turned the compliment into a personal honor. to say truth, however, he really desired to see the pannychides, or in plain parlance, the vigils. he had often heard of them as of prodigious effect upon the participants. latterly they had fallen into neglect; and knowing how difficult it is to revive a dying custom, he imagined the spectacle would be poor and soon over. while reflecting on it, he looked out of the window and was surprised to see the night falling. he yielded then to restlessness, until suddenly an idea arose and absorbed him. suppose the emperor won to his scheme; was its success assured? so used was he to thinking of the power of kings and emperors as the sole essential to the things he proposed that in this instance he had failed to concede importance to the church; and probably he would have gone on in the delusion but for the mysteries which were now to pass before him. they forced him to think of the power religious organizations exercise over men. and this church--this old byzantine church! ay, truly! the byzantine conscience was under its direction; it was the father confessor of the empire; its voice in the common ear was the voice of god. to cast christ out of its system would be like wrenching a man's heart out of his body. it was here and there--everywhere in fact--in signs, trophies, monuments--in crosses and images--in monasteries, convents, houses to the saints, houses to the mother. what could the emperor do, if it were obstinate and defiant? the night beheld through the window crept into the wanderer's heart, and threatened to put out the light kindled there by the new-born hope with which he had come from the audience. "the church, the church! it is the enemy i have to fear," he kept muttering in dismal repetition, realizing, for the first time, the magnitude of the campaign before him. with a wisdom in wickedness which none of his successors in design have shown, he saw the christian idea in the bosom of the church unassailable except a substitute satisfactory to its professors could be found. was god a sufficient substitute? perhaps--and he turned cold with the reflection--the pannychides were bringing him an answer. it was an ecclesiastical affair, literally a meeting of churchmen _en masse_. where--when--how could the church present itself to any man more an actuality in the flesh? perhaps--and a chill set his very crown to crawling--perhaps the opportunity to study the spectacle was more a mercy of god than a favor of constantine. to his great relief, at length the officer who had escorted him from the grand gate came into the room. "i am to have the honor," he said, cheerfully, "of conducting you to the stand his majesty has prepared that you may at ease behold the mysteries appointed for the night. the head of the procession is reported appearing. if it please you, prince of india, we will set out." "i am ready." the position chosen for the prince was on the right bank of a cut through which the road passed on its ascent from the arched gateway by the chapel to the third terrace, and he was borne thither in his sedan. upon alighting, he found himself on a platform covered by a canopy, carpeted and furnished with one chair comfortably cushioned. at the right of the chair there was a pyramid of coals glowing in a brazier, and lest that might not be a sufficient provision against the damps of the hours, a great cloak was near at hand. in front of the platform he observed a pole securely planted and bearing a basket of inflammables ready for conversion into a torch. in short, everything needful to his well-being, including wine and water on a small tripod, was within reach. before finally seating himself the prince stepped out to the brow of the terrace, whence he noticed the chapel below him in the denser darkness of the trees about it like a pool. the gleam of armor on the area by the grand gate struck him with sinister effect. flowers saluted him with perfume, albeit he could not see them. not less welcome was the low music with which the brook cheered itself while dancing down to the harbor. besides a cresset burning on the landing outside the port entrance, two other lights were visible; one on the pharos, the other on the great galata tower, looking in the distance like large stars. with these exceptions, the valley and the hill opposite blacherne, and the wide-reaching metropolis beyond them, were to appearances a blacker cloud dropped from the clouded sky. a curious sound now came to him from the direction of the city. was it a rising wind? or a muffled roll from the sea? while wondering, some one behind him said: "they are coming." the voice was sepulchral and harsh, and the prince turned quickly to the speaker. "ah, father theophilus!" "they are coming," the father repeated. the prince shivered slightly. the noise beyond the valley arose more distinctly. "are they singing?" he asked. "chanting," the other answered. "why do they chant?" "knowest thou our scriptures?" the wanderer quieted a disdainful impulse, and answered: "i have read them." the father continued: "presently thou wilt hear the words of job: 'oh, that thou wouldst hide me in the grave, that thou wouldst keep me in secret, until thy wrath be past, that thou wouldst appoint me a set time and remember me.'" the prince was startled. why was one in speech so like a ghost selected his companion? and that verse, of all to him most afflicting, and which in hours of despair he had repeated until his very spirit had become colored with its reproachful plaint--who put it in the man's mouth? the chant came nearer. of melody it had nothing; nor did those engaged in it appear in the slightest attentive to time. yet it brought relief to the prince, willing as he was to admit he had never heard anything similar--anything so sorrowful, so like the wail of the damned in multitude. and rueful as the strain was, it helped him assign the pageant a near distance, a middle distance, and then interminability. "there appear to be a great many of them," he remarked to the father. "more than ever before in the observance," was the reply. "is there a reason for it?" "our dissensions." the father did not see the pleased expression of his auditor's face, but proceeded: "yes, our dissensions. they multiply. at first the jar was between the church and the throne; now it is the church against the church--a roman party and a greek party. one man among us has concentrated in himself the learning and devotion of the christian east. you will see him directly, george scholarius. by visions, like those in which the old prophets received the counsel of god, he was instructed to revive the _pannychides._ his messengers have gone hither and thither, to the monasteries, the convents, and the eremitic colonies wherever accessible. the greater the presence, he says, the greater the influence." "scholarius is a wise man," the prince said, diplomatically. "his is the wisdom of the prophets," the father answered. "is he the patriarch?" "no, the patriarch is of the roman party--scholarius of the greek." "and constantine?" "a good king, truly, but, alas; he is cumbered with care of the state." "yes, yes," said the prince. "and the care leads to neglect of his soul. kings are sometimes to be pitied. but there is then a special object in the vigils?" "the vigils to-night are for the restoration of the unities once more, that the church may find peace and the state its power and glory again. god is in the habit of taking care of his own." "thank you, father, i see the difference. scholarius would intrust the state to the holy virgin; but constantine, with a worldlier inspiration, adheres to the craft held by kings immemorially. the object of the vigils is to bring the emperor to abandon his policy and defer to scholarius?" "the emperor assists in the mystery," the father answered, vaguely. the procession meantime came on, and when its head appeared in front of the grand gate three trumpeters blew a flourish which called the guards into line. a monk advanced and held parley with an officer; after which he was given a lighted torch, and passed under the portal in lead of the multitude. the trumpeters continued plying their horns, marking the slow ascent. "were this an army," said father theophilus, "it would not be so laborious; but, alas! the going of youth is nowhere so rapid as in a cloister; nor is age anywhere so feeble. ten years kneeling on a stony floor in a damp cell brings the anchorite to forget he ever walked with ease." the prince scarcely heard him; he was interested in the little to be seen crossing the area below--a column four abreast, broken into unequal divisions, each division with a leader, who, at the gate, received a torch. occasionally a square banner on a cross-stick appeared--occasionally a section in light-colored garments; more frequently a succession of heads without covering of any kind; otherwise the train was monotonously rueful, and in its slow movement out of the darkness reminded the spectator on the height of a serpent crawling endlessly from an underground den. afterwhile the dim white of the pavement was obscured by masses stationary on the right and left of the column; these were the people stopping there because for them there was no further pursuit of the spectral parade. the horns gave sonorous notice of the progress during the ascent. now they were passing along the first terrace; still the divisions were incessant down by the gate--still the chanting continued, a dismal dissonance in the distance, a horrible discord near by. if it be true that the human voice is music's aptest instrument, it is also true that nothing vocalized in nature can excel it in the expression of diabolism. suddenly the first torch gleamed on the second terrace scarce an hundred yards from the chapel. "see him now there, behind the trumpeters--scholarius!" said father theophilus, with a semblance of animation. "he with the torch?" "ay!--and he might throw the torch away, and still be the light of the church." the remark did not escape the prince. the man who could so impress himself upon a member of the court must be a power with his brethren of the gown generally. reflecting thus, the discerning visitor watched the figure stalking on under the torch. there are men who are causes in great events, sometimes by superiority of nature, sometimes by circumstances. what if this were one of them? and forthwith the observer ceased fancying the mystical looking monk drawing the interminable train after him by the invisible bonds of a will mightier than theirs in combination--the fancy became a fact. "the procession will not stop at the chapel," the father said; "but keep on to the palace, where the emperor will join it. if my lord cares to see the passage distinctly, i will fire the basket here." "do so," the prince replied. the flambeau was fired. it shed light over the lower terraces right and left, and brought the palace in the upper space into view from the base of the forward building to the tower of isaac; and here, close by, the chapel with all its appurtenances, paved enclosure, speeding brook, solemn cypresses, and the wall and arched gateway at the hither side stood out in almost daytime clearness. the road in the cut underfoot must bring the frocked host near enough to expose its spirit. the bellowing of the horns frightened the birds at roost in the melancholy grove, and taking wing, they flew blindly about. then ensued the invasion of the enclosure in front of the chapel--scholarius next the musicians. the prince saw him plainly; a tall man, stoop-shouldered, angular as a skeleton; his hood thrown back; head tonsured; the whiteness of the scalp conspicuous on account of the band of black hair at the base; the features high and thin, cheeks hollow, temples pinched. the dark brown cassock, leaving an attenuated neck completely exposed, hung from his frame apparently much too large for it. his feet disdained sandals. at the brook he halted, and letting the crucifix fall from his right hand, he stooped and dipped the member thus freed into the water, and rising flung the drops in air. resuming the crucifix, he marched on. it cannot be said there was admiration in the steady gaze with which the prince kept the monk in eye; the attraction was stronger--he was looking for a sign from him. he saw the tall, nervous figure cross the brook with a faltering, uncertain step, pass the remainder of the pavement, the torch in one hand, the holy symbol in the other; then it disappeared under the arch of the gate; and when it had come through, the sharp espial was beforehand with it, and waiting. it commenced ascending the acute grade--now it was in the cut--and now, just below the prince, it had but to look up, and its face would be on a level with his feet. at exactly the right moment, scholarius did look up, and--stop. the interchange of glances between the men was brief, and can be likened to nothing so aptly as sword blades crossing in a red light. possibly the monk, trudging on, his mind intent upon something which was part of a scene elsewhere, or on the objects and results of the solemnities in celebration, as yet purely speculative, might have been disagreeably surprised at discovering himself the subject of study by a stranger whose dress proclaimed him a foreigner; possibly the prince's stare, which we have already seen was at times powerfully magnetic, filled him with aversion and resentment; certain it is he raised his head, showing a face full of abhorrence, and at the same time waved the crucifix as if in exorcism. the prince had time to see the image thus presented was of silver on a cross of ivory wrought to wonderful realism. the face was dying, not dead; there were the spikes in the hands and feet, the rent in the side, the crown of thorns, and overhead the initials of the inscription: this is the king of the jews. there was the worn, buffeted, bloodspent body, and the lips were parted so it was easy to think the sufferer in mid-utterance of one of the exclamations which have placed his divinity forever beyond successful denial. the swift reversion of memory excited in the beholder might have been succeeded by remorse, but for the cry: "thou enemy of jesus christ--avaunt!" it was the voice of scholarius, shrill and high; and before the prince could recover from the shock, before he could make answer, or think of answering, the visionary was moving on; nor did he again look back. "what ails thee, prince?" the sepulchral tone of father theophilus was powerful over the benumbed faculties of his majesty's guest; and he answered with a question: "is not thy friend scholarius a great preacher?" "on his lips the truth is most unctuous." "it must be so--it must be so! for"--the prince's manner was as if he were settling a grave altercation in his own mind--"for never did a man offer me the presence so vitalized in an image. i am not yet sure but he gave me to see the holy son of the immaculate mother in flesh and blood exactly as when they put him so cruelly to death. or can it be, father, that the effect upon me was in greater measure due to the night, the celebration, the cloud of ministrants, the serious objects of the vigils?" the answer made father theophilus happy as a man of his turn could be--he was furnished additional evidence of the spiritual force of scholarius, his ideal. "no," he answered, "it was god in the man." all this time the chanting had been coming nearer, and now the grove rang with it. a moment, and the head of the first division must present itself in front of the chapel. could the wanderer have elected then whether to depart or stay, the _pannychides_ would have had no further assistance from him--so badly had the rencounter with scholarius shaken him. not that he was afraid in the vulgar sense of the term. before a man can habitually pray for death, he must be long lost to fear. if we can imagine conscience gone, pride of achievement, without which there can be no mortification or shame in defeat, may yet remain with him, a source of dread and weakness. the chill which shook brutus in his tent the evening before philippi was not in the least akin to terror. so with the prince at this juncture. there to measure the hold of the christian idea upon the church, it seemed scholarius had brought him an answer which finished his interest in the passing vigils. in brief, the reformer's interest in the mystery was past, and he wished with his whole soul to retreat to the sedan, but a fascination held him fast. "i think it would be pleasanter sitting," he said, and returned to the platform. "if i presume to take the chair, father," he added, "it is because i am older than thou." hardly was he thus at ease when a precentor, fat, and clad in a long gown, stepped out of the grove to the clear lighted pavement in front of the chapel. his shaven head was thrown back, his mouth open to its fullest stretch, and tossing a white stick energetically up and down in the air, he intoned with awful distinctness: "the waters wear the stones. thou washest away the things which grow out of the dust of the earth, and thou destroyest the hopes of man." the prince covered his ears with his hands. "thou likest not the singing?" father theophilus asked, and continued: "i admit the graces have little to do with musical practice in the holy houses of the fathers." but he for whom the comfort was meant made no reply. he was repeating to himself: "thou prevailest forever against him, and he passeth." and to these words the head of the first division strode forward into the light. the prince dropped his hands in time to hear the last verse: "but his flesh upon him shall have pain, and his soul within him shall mourn." for whom was this? did the singers know the significancy of the text to him? the answer was from god, and they were merely messengers bringing it. he rose to his feet; in his rebellious passion the world seemed to melt and swim about him. he felt a longing to burn, break, destroy--to strike out and kill. when he came to himself, father theophilus, who thought him merely wonder struck by the mass of monks in march, was saying in his most rueful tone: "good order required a careful arrangement of the procession; for though the participants are pledged to godly life, yet they sometimes put their vows aside temporarily. the holiest of them have pride in their establishments, and are often too ready to resort to arms of the flesh to assert their privileges. the fathers of the islands have long been jealous of the fathers of the city, and to put them together would be a signal for riot. accordingly there are three grand divisions here--the monks of constantinople, those of the islands, the shores of the bosphorus and the three seas, and finally the recluses and hermits from whatever quarter. lo! first the fathers of the studium--saintly men as thou wilt see anywhere." the speech was unusually long for the father; a fortunate circumstance of which the prince availed himself to recover his self-possession. by the time the brethren eulogized were moving up the rift at his feet, he was able to observe them calmly. they were in long gowns of heavy gray woollen stuff, with sleeves widening from the shoulders; their cowls, besides covering head and visage, fell down like capes. cleanly, decent-looking men, they marched slowly and in order, their hands united palm to palm below their chins. the precentor failed to inspire them with his fury of song. "these now coming," father theophilus said of the second fraternity, "are conventuals of petrion, who have their house looking out on the harbor here. and these," he said of the third, "are of the monastery of anargyres--a very ancient society. the emperor michael, surnamed the paphlegonian, died in one of their cells in . brotherhood with them is equivalent to saintship." afterwhile a somewhat tumultuous flock appeared in white skirts and loose yellow cloaks, their hair and beard uncut and flying. the historian apologized. "bear with them," he said; "they are mendicants from the retreats of periblepte, in the quarter of psammatica. you may see them on the street corners and quays, and in all public places, sick, blind, lame and covered with sores. they have st. lazarus for patron. at night an angel visits them with healing. they refuse to believe the age of miracles is past." the city monastics were a great host carrying banners with the name of their brotherhoods inscribed in golden letters; and in every instance the hegumen, or abbot, preceded his fraternity torch in hand. a company in unrelieved black marched across the brook, and their chanting was lugubrious as their garb. "petra sends us these fathers," said theophilus--"petra over on the south side. they sleep all day and watch at night. the second coming they say will happen in the night, because they think that time most favorable for the trumpeting herald and the splendor of the manifestations." half an hour of marching--men in gray and black and yellow, a few in white--men cowled--men shorn and unshorn--barefooted men and men in sandals--a river of men in all moods, except jovial and happy, toiling by the observing stand, seldom an upturned face, spectral, morose, laden body and mind--young and old looking as if just awakened after ages of entombment;--a half hour of dismal chanting the one chapter from the book of the man in the land of uz, of all utterances the most dismal;--a half hour of waiting by the prince for one kindly sign, without discovering it--a half hour, in which, if the comparison be not too strong, he was like a soul keeping watch over its own abandoned body. then father theophilus said: "from the cloisters of st. james of manganese! the richest of the monasteries of constantinople, and the most powerful. it furnishes sancta sophia with renowned preachers. its brethren cultivate learning. their library is unexcelled, and they boast that in the hundreds of years of their society life, they had never an heretic. before their altars the candles are kept burning and trimmed forever. their numbers are recruited from the noblest families. young men to whom the army is open prefer god-service in the elegant retirement of st. james of manganese. they will interest you, prince; and after them we will have the second grand division." "brethren of the islands?" "yes, of the islands and the sea-shores." upon the pavement then appeared a precentor attired like a greek priest of the present day; a rimless hat black and high, and turned slightly outward at the top; a veil of the same hue; the hair gathered into a roll behind, and secured under the hat; a woollen gown very dark, glossy, and dropping in ample folds unconfined from neck to shoe. the hegumen followed next, and because of his age and infirmities a young man carried the torch for him. the chanting was sweet, pure, and in perfect time. all these evidences of refinement and respectability were noticed by the prince, and looking at the torch-bearer again, he recognized the young monk, his room-mate in the white castle. "knowest thou the youth yonder?" he asked, pointing to sergius. "a russian recently arrived," the father replied. "day before yesterday he was brought to the palace and presented to the emperor by the princess irene. he made a great impression." the two kept their eyes on the young man until he disappeared ascending the hill. "he will be heard from;" and with the prediction the prince gave attention to the body of the brotherhood. "these men have the bearing of soldiers," he said presently. "their vows respecting war are liberal. if the _panagia_ were carried to the walls, they would accompany it in armor." the prince smiled. he had not the faith in the virgin of blacherne which the father's answer implied. the st. james' were long in passing. the prince kept them in sight to the last four. they were the aristocracy of the church, prim, proud; as their opportunities were more frequent, doubtless they were more wicked than their associates of the humbler fraternities; yet he could not promise himself favor from their superior liberality. on the contrary, having a great name for piety to defend, if a test offered, they were the more certain to be hard and vindictive--to send a heretic to the stake, and turn a trifling variation from the creed into heresy. "who is this?" the prince exclaimed, as a noble-looking man in full canonicals stepped out of the cypress shadows, first of the next division. "master of ceremonies for the church," father theophilus replied. "he is the wall between the islanders and the metropolitans." "and he who walks with him singing?" "the _protopsolete_--leader of the patriarch's choir." behind this singer the monks of the isles of the princes! in movement, order, dress, like their predecessors in the march--hegumen with their followers in gray, black and white--hands palm to palm prayerfully--chanting sometimes better, sometimes worse--never a look upward but always down, as if heaven were a hollow in the earth, an abyss at their feet, and they about to step into it. the prince was beginning to tire. suddenly he thought of the meeting of pilgrims at el zaribah. how unlike was the action there and here! that had been a rush, an inundation, as it were, by the sea, fierce, mad, a passion of faith fostered by freedom; this, slow, solemn, sombre, oppressive--what was it like? death in life, and burial by programme so rigid there must not be a groan more or a tear less. he saw law in it all--or was it imposition, force, choice smothered by custom, fashion masquerading in the guise of faith? the hold of christ upon the church began to look possible of measurement. "roti first!" said the father. "rocky and bare, scarce a bush for a bird or grass for a cricket. ah, verily he shall love god dearly or hate the world mortally who of free will chooses a cloister for life at roti!" the brethren of the three convents of the island marched past clad in short brown frocks, bareheaded, barefooted. the comments of the historian were few and brief. "poor they look," he said of the first one, "and poor they are, yet michael rhangabe and romain lacapene were glad to live and die with them." of the second: "when romain diogenes built the house these inhabit, he little dreamed it would shelter him, a refugee from the throne." of the third: "dardanes was a great general. in his fortunate days he built a tower on roti with one cell in it; in an evil hour he aspired to the throne--failed--lost his eyes, retired to his lonesome tower--by his sanctity there drew a fraternity to him, and died. that was hundreds of years ago. the brethren still pray for his soul. be it that evil comes of good; not less does good come of evil--and so god keeps the balances." in the same manner he descanted on the several contingents from antigone as they strode by; then of those from god's houses at halki, the pearl of the marmora; amongst them the monastery of john the precursor, and the convents of st. george, hagia trias, and lastly the very holy house of the all holy mother of god, founded by john viii. palaeologus. after them, in turn, the consecrated from prinkipo, especially those from the kamares of the basilissa, irene, and the convent of the transfiguration. the faithful few from the solitary convent on the island of oxia, and the drab-gowned abstinents of the monastery of plati, miserables given to the abnormity of mixing prayer and penance with the cultivation of snails for the market in constantinople, were the last of the islanders. then in a kind of orderly disorganization the claustral inculpables from holy houses on olympus down by the dardanelles, the bosphorus, and the bithynian shore behind the isles of the princes, and some from retreats in the egean and along the peloponnesus, their walls now dust, their names forgotten. "where is the procession going?" the prince now asked. "look behind you--up along the front of the palace." and casting his eyes thither, the questioner beheld the ground covered with a mass of men not there before. "what are they doing?" "awaiting the emperor. only the third grand division is wanting now; when it is up his majesty will appear." "and descend to the chapel?" "yes." for a time a noise more like the continuous, steady monotone of falling water than a chant had been approaching from the valley, making its darkness vocal. it threatened the gates awhile; now it was at the gates. the prince's wonder was great, and to appease it father theophilus explained: "the last division is at hand." in the dim red light over the area by the gate below, the visitor beheld figures hurriedly issuing from the night--figures in the distance so wild and fantastic they did not at first seem human. they left no doubt, however, whence the sound proceeded. the white sand of the road up the terraces was beaten to dust under the friction and pressure of the thousands of feet gone before; this third division raised it into an attending cloud, and the cloud and the noise were incessant. once more the prince went out to the brink of the terrace. the monotony of the pageant was broken; something new was announcing itself. spectres--devils--gnomes and jinn of the islamitic solomon--rakshakas and hanumen of the eastern iliads--surely this miscellany was a composition of them all. they danced along the way and swung themselves and each other, howling like dervishes in frenzy. again the birds took wing and flew blindly above the cypresses, and the end of things seemed about to burst when a yell articulate yet unintelligible shook the guarded door of the venerable chapel. then the demoniacs--the prince could not make else of them--leaping the brook, crowding the pent enclosure, hasting to the arched exit, were plainly in view. men almost naked, burned to hue of brick-dust; men in untanned sheepskin coats and mantles; men with every kind of headgear, turbans, handkerchiefs, cowls; men with hair and beard matted and flying; now one helped himself to a louder yell by tossing in air the dirty garment he had torn from his body, hirsute as a goat's; now one leaped up agile as a panther; now one turned topsy-turvy; now groups of them swirled together like whimsical eddies in a pool. some went slowly, their arms outspread in silent ecstasy; some stalked on with parted lips and staring eyes, trance-like or in dead drunkenness of soul; nevertheless the great majority of them, too weary and far spent for violent exertion, marched with their faces raised, and clapping their hands or beating their breasts, now barking short and sharp, like old hounds dreaming, then finishing with long-drawn cries not unlike the ending of a sorrowful chorus. through the gate they crowded, and at sight of their faces full of joy unto madness, the prince quit pitying them, and, reminded of the wahabbees at el zaribah, turned to father theophilus. "in god's name," he said, "who are these?" "a son of india thou, and not know them at sight?" there was surprise in the question, and a degree of unwarranted familiarity, yet the father immediately corrected himself, by solemnly adding: "look there at that one whirling his mantle of unshorn skin over his head. he has a cave on mt. olympus furnished with a stool, a crucifix, and a copy of the holy scriptures; he sleeps on the stone; the mantle is his bedding by night, his clothing by day. he raises vegetables, and they and snow-water seeping through a crevice in his cavern subsist him.... and the next him--the large man with the great coat of camel's hair which keeps him scratched as with thorns--he is from the monastery of st. auxentius, the abode of a powerful fraternity of ascetics. a large proportion of this wing of the celebrants is of the same austere house. you will know them by the penitential, dun-colored garment--they wear no other.... yonder is a brother carrying his right arm at a direct angle above his shoulder, stiff and straight as a stick of seasoned oak. he is of a colony of stylites settled on this shore of the upper bosphorus overlooking the black sea. he could not lower the arm if he wished to; but since it is his certificate of devoutness, the treasures of the earth laid at his feet in a heap would be insufficient to induce him to drop it though for an instant. his colony is one of many like it. spare him thy pity. he believes the clinch of that hand holds fast the latch of heaven.... the shouters who have just entered the arch in a body have hermitaries in close grouping around the one failing monastery on plati, and live on lentils and snails; aside from which they commit themselves to christ, and so abound in faith that the basileus in his purple would be very happy were he true master of a tithe of their happiness.... hast thou not enough, o prince? those crossing the brook now?--ah, yes! they are anchorites from anderovithos, the island. pitiable creatures looked at from the curtained windows of a palace--pitiable, and abandoned by men and angels! be not sure. everything is as we happen to see it--a bit of philosophy, which, as they despise the best things secularly considered of this life, steels them to indifference for what you and i, and others not of their caste, may think. they have arrived at a summit above the corrupting atmosphere of the earth, where every one of them has already the mansion promised him by our blessed lord, and where the angels abide and delight to serve him.... for the rest, o prince, call them indifferently recluses, hermits, anticenobites, mystics, martyrs, these from europe, those from isolations deep somewhere in asia. who feeds them? did not ravens feed elijah? offer them white bread and robes of silk, yesterday's wear of a king. 'what!' they will ask. 'shall any man fare better than john the forerunner?' speak to them of comfortable habitations, and they will answer with the famous saying, 'foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests; but the son of man hath not where to lay his head.' what more is there to be said? thou seest them, thou knowest them." yes, the prince knew them. like the horde which stood by the black stone envious of mirza's dying, these were just as ready to die for christ. he smiled grimly, and thought of mahommed, and how easy the church had made the conquest of which he was dreaming. it was with a sense of relief he beheld the tail of the division follow its body up to the palace. then, last of all, came the dignitaries of the church, the cartulaire, least in rank, with many intermediates, up to the cyncelle, who, next to the absent patriarch, represented him. if what had preceded in the procession was poor and unpretentious, this part was splendid to excess. they were not more than eighteen or twenty in number, but they walked singly with considerable intervals between them; while on the right and left of each, a liveried servant carried a torch which gave him to be distinctly seen. and the flashing of gold on their persons was wonderful to the spectator. why not? this rare and anointed body was the church going in solemnity to assist the basileus in a high ceremony. afterwhile the emperor appeared descending to the chapel. to the prince's amazement, he was in a plain, priestly black frock, without crown, sword, sceptre or guard; and so did his guise compare with the magnificence of the ecclesiastics surrounding him, he actually seemed in their midst a prisoner or a penitent. he passed his visitor like one going from the world forgetting and forgot. "an explanation, father," said the prince. "the church is in its robes, but my august friend, the emperor, looks as if he had suffered dethronement." "thou wilt presently see his majesty enter the chapel alone. the legend supposes him there in presence directly of god; if so, what merit would there be in regalia? would his sword or sceptre make his supplication more impressive?" the prince bowed. and while he watched, the gold-clad escort halted before the holy house, the door opened, and constantine went in unattended. then, the door being shut behind him, the clergy knelt, and remained kneeling. the light from the torches was plenteous there, making the scene beautiful. and yet further, while he stood watching, the trumpeting and chanting on the level in front of the palace behind him ceased, and a few minutes afterwards, he was aware of the noise of many feet rushing in a scramble from all directions to the chapel. here and there flambeaux streamed out, with hundreds of dark-gowned excited figures speeding after them as best they could. the bank the prince occupied was overrun, like other contiguous spaces. the object of the invaders was to secure a position near the revered building as possible; for immediately on attaining it they dropped to their knees, and began counting their rosaries and mumbling prayers. at length it befell that the terraces far and near were densely crowded by monks in low recitation. "my lord," said father theophilus, in a tone of reserved depth, "the mystery is begun. there is no more to be seen. good-night!" and without ado, he too knelt where he stood, beads in hand, eyes fixed upon the one point of devotional interest. when the sedan was brought, the prince gave one last glance at the scene, feeling it was to be thenceforward and forever a burden on his memory. he took in and put away the weather-stained chapel, centre of so much travail; the narrow court in front of it brilliantly lighted and covered with priests high and low in glittering vestments; the cypresses looming skyward, stately and stiff, like conical monuments: the torches scattered over the grounds, revealing patches of men kneeling, their faces turned toward the chapel: the mumbling and muttering from parts unlighted telling of other thousands in like engagement. he had seen battle-fields fresh in their horrors; decks of ships still bloody; shores strewn with wreckage and drowned sailors, and the storm not spent; populous cities shaken down by earthquakes, the helpless under the ruins pleading for help; but withal never had he seen anything which affected him as did that royal park at mid of night, given up to that spectral multitude! it seemed he could not get away from the spectacle soon enough; for after issuing from the grand gate, he kept calling to his carriers, impatiently: "faster, my men, faster!" chapter v a plague of crime sergius' life in constantinople had been almost void of incident. his introduction to the patriarch by the princess irene started him well with that reverend official, whose confidence and love she commanded to a singular degree. his personal qualities, however, were very helpful. the gentleness of his nature, his youth, his simplicity, respectfulness, intelligence and obvious piety were all in his favor; at the same time the strongest attraction he possessed with the strangers amongst whom he found himself was his likeness according to the received byzantine ideal to christ. he had a habit, moreover, of walking slowly, and with a quiet tread, his head lowered, his hands clasped before him. coming in this mood suddenly upon persons, he often startled them; at such times, indeed, the disturbed parties were constrained to both observe and forgive him--he reminded them so strikingly of the nazarene as he must have looked while in solitary walks by the sea or along the highways of galilee. whatever the cause, it is very certain his serenity, the patriarch, from mere attention to the young russian, passed speedily to interest in him, and manifested it in modes pleasant and noticeable. by his advice, sergius attached himself to the brotherhood of the monastery of st. james of manganese. this was the first incident in his city life out of the usual. the second was his presentation at court, where he was not less successful with the emperor than he had been with the patriarch. yet sergius was not happy. his was the old case of a spirit willing, even anxious, to do, but held in restraint. he saw about him such strong need of saving action; and the christian plan, as he understood it, was so simple and efficacious. there was no difference in the value of souls. taking christ's own words, everything was from the father, and he held the gates of heaven open for the beggar and the emperor alike. why not return to the plan devised, practised, and exemplified by the saviour himself? the idea bore heavily upon his mind, and accounted for the bent head and slow step fast becoming habitudes. at times the insurgent impulses seemed beyond control. this was particularly when he walked in crowded places; for then the people appeared an audience summoned and ready to hear him; he had only to go into their midst, call to them, and begin speaking; but often as he beheld the calm, patient, pleading face of the princess irene, and heard her say ever so gently: "wait, wait! i know the situation--you do not. our object is the most good. god will send the opportunity. then martyrdom, if it come, is going to heaven. wait--i will give you the signal. you are to speak for me as well as yourself. you are to be my voice"--so often he grew reconciled. there was another trouble more difficult of comprehension and description. under its influence the sky did not look so blue as formerly; the breeze was less refreshing; the sun where it scattered its golden largesse over the sea failed to relieve it of dulness; and in all things, himself included, there was something wanting--exactly what he could not tell. however, as he had been indulging comparisons of life in constantinople with life in bielo-osero, and longing for the holy quiet of the latter, he concluded he was homesick, and was ashamed. it was childishness! the great example had no home! and with that thought he struggled manfully to be a man forever done with such weaknesses. it became his wont of afternoons when the weather was tolerable to seek the city wall opposite the old chalcedonian point. in going thither, he sometimes passed through the hippodrome and sta. sophia, both in such contact to the collection of palaces known as the bucoleon that each might have been fairly considered an appurtenance of the other. the exercises in the spacious palaestrae had small interest for him; there was always such evident rancor between the factions blue and green. the dome of the great church he regarded man's best effort at construction, beyond which there was nothing more attainable; but how it dwindled and faded when from the wall he looked at the sky, the sea, and the land, the handiworks of god! on the wall, at a point marked by a shallow angle, there was a cracked stone bench, offering seawardly a view of the isles of the princes, and the asian domain beyond broussa to the olympian heights; westwardly, the bucoleon and its terraced gardens were near by, and above them in the distance the tower of isaac angelus arose over blacherne, like a sentinel on guard against the opposing summits of galata and pera. from the bench, the walk, besides being wide and smooth, extended, with a slight curvature northward to the acropolis, now point serail, and on the south to the port of julian. the airy promenade thus formed was reached by several stairs intermediate the landmarks mentioned; yet the main ascent was near the imperial stables, and it consisted of a flight of stone steps built against the inner face of the wall, like a broad buttress. this latter was for the public, and of sunny days it was used incessantly. everybody in the category of invalids affected it in especial, since litters and sedans were not inhibited there. in short, the popularity of this mural saunter can be easily imagined. the afternoon of the day the prince of india was in audience by the emperor's invitation, sergius was the sole occupant of the stone bench. the hour was pleasant; the distant effects were perfect; birds and boats enlivened the air and water; and in listening to the swish of waves amongst the rocks and pebbles below, so like whisperings, he forgot where he was, and his impatience and melancholy, and the people strolling negligently past. one of his arms lay along the edge of the bulwark before him, and he was not thinking so much as simply enjoying existence. to such as noticed him he appeared a man in the drowsy stage next to sleep. afterwhile a voice aroused him, and, without moving, he became aware of two men stopped and talking. he could not avoid hearing them. "she is coming," said one. "how do you know?" the other asked. "have i not told you i keep a spy on the old prince's house? a messenger from him has just reported the chair arrived for her; and this being her favorite stroll, she will be here presently." "have you considered the risks of your project?" "risks? pah!" the exclamation was with a contemptuous laugh. "but they have grown since last night," the other persisted. "the indian is now at the palace, his majesty's guest." "yes, i had report of that also; but i have studied the game, and if you fear to join me, i will see it through alone. as an offence against law, it is abduction, not murder; and the penalty, imprisonment, can be easily changed to banishment, which with me means at the utmost a short absence to give friends an opportunity to prepare for my return. consider, moreover, the subject of the offence will be a woman. can you name an instance in which the kidnapper of a woman has been punished?--i mean in our time?" "true, women are the cheapest commodity in the market; therefore"-- "i understand," the first speaker interposed, a little impatiently, "but princes of india are not common in constantinople, while their daughters are less so. see the temptation! besides, in the decadence of our byzantine empire, the criminal laws fail worse and worse of execution. only last night my father, delivering a lecture, said neglect in this respect was one of the reasons of the empire's going. only the poor and degraded suffer penalties now. and i--pah! what have i to fear? or thou? and from whom? when the girl's loss is discovered--you observe i am viewing the affair in its most malignant aspect--i know the course the prince will take. he will run to the palace; there he will fall at the emperor's feet, tell his tale of woe, and"-- "and if thou art denounced?" the conspirator laughed again. "the worse for the prince," he at length replied. "the hegumen, my honored father, will follow him to the palace, and--but let the details go! the relations between the basileus and the church are strained to breaking; and the condition is not sanable while the quarrel between the patriarch and scholarius waxes hotter." "the patriarch and scholarius quarrelling? i had not heard of that." "openly, openly! his majesty and the patriarch are tenderly sympathetic. what more is wanting to set the prophet scolding? the patriarch, it is now known, will not be at the _pannychides_ to-night. his health began failing when, over his objection, it was decided to hold the mystery, and last week he betook himself to the holy mountain. this morning the prophet"-- "thou meanest scholarius?" "scholarius denounced him as an _azymite_, which is bad, if true; as unfaithful to god and the church, which is worse; and as trying to convert the emperor into an adherent of the bishop of rome, which, considering the bishop is satan unchained, will not admit of a further descent in sin. the mystery tonight is scholarius' scheme in contravention of his serenity's efforts. oh, it is a quarrel, and a big one, involving church and state, and the infallibility of our newly risen jeremiah. thus full-handed, thinkest thou in a suit the prince of india against the venerable hegumen of all the st. james', his majesty will hesitate? is thy opinion of him as a politician so uncomplimentary? think again, i say--think again!" "thy father's brotherhood are his majesty's friends!" "ah, the very point! they despise scholarius now, and what an ado, what a political display, to drive them into his arms! the princes of india, though they were numerous as the spectre caravan, could not carry influence that far." here there was a rest in the conversation. "well, since thou wilt not be persuaded to let the enterprise go," the protesting friend next said, "at least agree with me that it is indiscreet to speak of it in a place public as this." the laugh of the conspirator was heartier than before. "ah, hadst thou warned me not to speak of it to the"-- "enough of that! the prince of india is nothing to me--thou art my friend." "agree with me then that thou hast ears, while the public"-- "have not, thou wouldst say. still there are things which may not be whispered in a desert without being overheard." "the pagans who went before us had a god of wisdom, and they called him hermes. i should say thou hast been to school to him. 'twas he, doubtless, who taught outlaws to seek safety in crowded cities. by the same philosophy, where can one talk treason more securely than on this wall? afraid of discovery! not i, unless thou mumblest in thy sleep. we go about our good intents--the improvement of our fortune for instance--with awful care, and step by step, fortifying. the practice is applicable to wickedness. i am no bungler. i will tell thee a tale.... thou knowest the brotherhood of the monastery of st. james of manganese is very ancient, and that the house in which it is quartered is about as old as the brotherhood. their archives are the richest in the empire. they have a special chamber and a librarian. were he of the mind, he might write a history of constantinople by original data without leaving his library. fortunately the mere keepers of books seldom write books.... my father's office is in the monastery, and i frequently find myself in his company there. he never fails to improve the opportunity to lecture me, for he is a good man. one day, by invitation, i accompanied the librarian to his place of keeping, and saw it, and wondered how he could be willing to give his days--he is now an old man--to such a mass of rot and smells. i spare you mention of the many things he showed me; for there was but one of real ado with what we are considering, an old document illuminated with an untarnished chrysobula. 'here,' said he, 'is something curious.' the text was short--writers in those days knew the tricks of condensation, and they practised them virtuously. i asked him to give it to me--he refused--he would sooner have given me the last lock on his head, which is a great deal, seeing that hair grows precious exactly as it grows scantier. so i made him hold the lamp while i read.... the document was dated about a.d. --a century and a half gone, and proved to be a formal report by the patriarch to a council of bishops and hegumen.... thou knowest, i am sure, the great cistern; not the philoxenus, but the larger one, with an entrance west of sta. sophia, sometimes called the imperial, because built by the first constantine and enlarged by justinian." "i know it." "well, there was a great ceremony there one day; the same with which the report was concerned. the clergy attended in force and panoply led by his serenity in person--monks, nuns, deacons and deaconesses--in a word, the church was present. the cistern had been profaned. a son of satan, moved by a most diabolical ingenuity, had converted it into a den of wickedness surpassing sinful belief; and the procession and awful conclave were to assist his serenity in restoring the water to wholesomeness, impossible, in the belief of consumers, except by solemn exorcism.... heed now, my friend--i am about to tap the heart of my story. a plague struck the city--a plague of crime. a woman disappeared. there was search for her, but without success. the affair would have been dismissed within the three days usually allotted wonders of the kind, had not another like it occurred--and then another. the victims, it was noticed, were young and beautiful, and as the last one was of noble family the sensation was universal. the whole capital organized for rescue. while the hunt was at its height, a fourth unfortunate went the way of the others. sympathy and curiosity had been succeeded by anxiety; now the public was aroused to anger, and the parents of handsome girls were sore with fear. schemes for discovery multiplied; ingenuity was exhausted; the government took part in the chase--all in vain. and there being then a remission in the disappearance, the theory of suicide was generally accepted. quiet and confidence were returning, when, lo! the plague broke out afresh! five times in five weeks sta. sophia was given to funeral services. the ugly women, and the halt, and those long hopeless of husbands shared the common terror. the theory of suicide was discarded. it was the doing of the turks, everybody said. the turks were systematically foraging constantinople to supply their harems with christian beauty; or if the turks were innocent, the devil was the guilty party. on the latter presumption, the church authorities invented a prayer of special application. could anything better signify the despair of the community? a year passed--two years--three--and though every one resolved himself into a watchman and hunter; though heralds cried rewards in the emperor's name three times each day on the street corners, and in every place of common resort; though the fame of the havoc, rapine, spoliation, or whatsoever it may please thee to call the visitation, was carried abroad until everybody here and there knew every particular come to light concerning it, with the pursuit, and the dragging and fishing in the sea, never a clew was found. one--two--three years, during which at intervals, some long, some short, the ancient christian centre kept on sealing its doors, and praying. finally the disappearances were about to be accepted as incidents liable to happen at any time to any young and pretty woman. they were placed in the category with death. there was mourning by friends--that was about all. how much longer the mystery would have continued may not be said.... now accidents may not have brought the world about, yet the world could not get along without accidents. to illustrate. a woman one day, wanting water for her household, let a bucket down one of the wells of the cistern, and drew up a sandal slippery and decaying. a sliver buckle adhered to it. upon inspecting the prize, a name was observed graven on its underside. the curious came to see--there was discussion--at length an examiner blessed with a good memory coupled the inscription with one of the lost women. it was indeed her name! a clew to the great mystery was at last obtained. the city was thrown into tumult, and an exploration of the cistern demanded. the authorities at first laughed. 'what!' they said. 'the royal reservoir turned into a den of murder and crime unutterable by christians!' but they yielded. a boat was launched on the darkened waters--but hold!" the voice of the speaker changed. something was occurring to stop the story. sergius had succumbed to interest in it; he was listening with excited sense, yet kept his semblance of sleep. "hold!" the narrator repeated, in an emphatic undertone. "see what there is in knowing to choose faithful allies! my watchman was right. she comes--she is here!" "who is here?" "she--the daughter of the old indian. in the sedan to my left--look!" sergius, catching the reply, longed to take the direction to himself, and look, for he was comprehending vaguely. a blindfolded man can understand quite well, if he is first informed of the business in progress, or if it be something with which he is familiar; imagination seems then to take the place of eyes. a detective, having overheard the conversation between the two men, had not required sight of them; but the young monk was too recently from the cloisters of bielo-osero to be quick in the discernment of villanies. he knew the world abounded in crime, but he had never dealt with it personally; as yet it was a destroying wolf howling in the distance. he yearned to see if what he dimly surmised were true--if the object at the moment so attractive to his dangerous neighbors were indeed the daughter of the strange indian he had met at the white castle. his recollection of her was wonderfully distinct. her face and demeanor when he assisted her from the boat had often reverted to his thought. they spoke to him so plainly of simplicity and dependence, and she seemed so pure and beautiful! and making the acknowledgment to himself, his heart took to beating quick and drum-like. he heard the shuffle and slide of the chairmen going; when they ceased a new and strange feeling came and possessed itself of his spirit, and led it out after her. still he managed to keep his head upon his arm. "by the saintly patron of thy father's brotherhood, she is more than lovely! i am almost persuaded." "ah, i am not so mad as i was!" the conspirator replied, laughing; then he changed to seriousness, and added, like one speaking between clinched teeth--"i am resolved to go on. i will have her--come what may, i will have her! i am neither a coward nor a bungler. thou mayst stay behind, but i have gone too far to retreat. let us follow, and see her again--my pretty princess!" "stay--a moment." perception was breaking in on sergius. he scarcely breathed. "well?" was the answer. "you were saying that a boat was launched in the cistern. then what?" "of discovery? oh, yes--the very point of my argument! a raft was found moored between four of the great pillars in the cistern, and there was a structure on it with furnished rooms. a small boat was used for going and coming." "wonderful!" "come--or we will lose the sight of her." "but what else?" "hooks, such as fishermen use in hunting lobsters were brought, and by dragging and fishing the missing women were brought to light--that is, their bones were brought to light. more i will tell as we go. i will not stay longer." sergius heard them depart, and presently he raised his head. his blood was cold with horror. he was having the awful revelation which sooner or later bursts upon every man who pursues a walk far in life. chapter vi a byzantine gentleman of the period sergius kept his seat on the bench; but the charm of the glorious prospect spread out before it was gone. two points were swimming in his consciousness, like motes in a mist: first, there was a conspiracy afoot; next, the conspiracy was against the daughter of the prince of india. when at the door of the old lavra upon the snow-bound shore of the white lake, he bade father hilarion farewell and received his blessing, and the commission of an evangel, the idea furthest from him was to signalize his arrival in constantinople by dropping first thing into love. and to be just, the idea was now as distant from him as ever; yet he had a vision of the child-faced girl he met on the landing at the white castle in the hands of enemies, and to almost any other person the shrinking it occasioned would have been strange, if not suspicious. his most definite feeling was that something ought to be done in her behalf. besides this the young monk had another incentive to action. in the colloquy overheard by him the chief speaker described himself a son of the hegumen of the st. james'. the st. james'! his own brotherhood! his own hegumen! could a wicked son have been born to that excellent man? much easier to disbelieve the conspirator; still there were traditions of the appearance of monsters permitted for reasons clear at least to providence. this might be an instance of the kind. doubtless the creature carried on its countenance or person evidences of a miracle of evil. in any event there could be no harm in looking at him. sergius accordingly arose, and set out in pursuit of the conspirators. could he overtake the sedan, they were quite certain to be in the vicinity, and he doubted not discovering them. the steps of the sedan-carriers, peculiarly quick and sliding, seemed in passing the bench to have been going northwardly toward point demetrius. thither he first betook himself. in the distance, over the heads of persons going and coming, he shortly beheld the top of a chair in motion, and he followed it rapidly, fearing its occupant might quit the wall by the stairs near the stables of the bucoleon. but when it was borne past that descent he went more leisurely, knowing it must meet him on the return. without making the point, however, the chair was put about toward him. unable to discover any one so much as suggestive of the plotters, and fearing a mistake, he peered into the front window of the painted box. a woman past the noon of life gave him back in no amiable mood the stare with which he saluted her. there was but one explanation: he should have gone down the wall southwardly. what was to be done? give up the chase? no, that would be to desert his little friend. and besides he had not put himself within hearing of the design against her--it was a doing of providence. he started back on his trace. the error but deepened his solicitude. what if the victim was then being hurried away? at the head of the stairway by the stables he paused; as it was deserted, he continued on almost running--on past the cracked bench--past the cleft gate. now, in front, he beheld the towers of the imperial residence bearing the name julian, and he was upbraiding himself for indecision, and loading his conscience with whatever grief might happen the poor girl, when he beheld a sedan coming toward him. it was very ornate, and in the distance shone with burnishments--it was the chair--hers. by it, on the right hand, strode the gigantic negro who had so astonished him at the white castle. he drew a long breath, and stopped. they would be bold who in daylight assailed that king of men! and he was taking note of the fellow's barbaric finery, the solemn stateliness of his air, and the superb indifference he manifested to the stare of passers-by, when a man approached the chair on the opposite side. the curtain of the front window was raised, and through it, sergius observed the inmate draw hastily away from the stranger, and drop a veil over her face. here was one of the parties for whom he was looking. where was the other? then the man by the left window looked back over his shoulder as if speaking, and out of the train of persons following the sedan, one stepped briskly forward, joined the intruder, and walked with him long enough to be spoken to, and reply briefly; after which he fell back and disappeared. this answered the inquiry. assured now of one of the conspirators in sight, the monk resolved to await the coming up. through the front window of the carriage, which was truly a marvel of polish and glitter, the girl might recognize him; perhaps she would speak; or possibly the negro might recall him; in either event he would have an excuse for intervention. meantime, calmly as he could--for he was young, and warm blooded, and in all respects a good instrument to be carried away by righteous indignation--he took careful note of the stranger, who kept his place as if by warrant, occasionally addressing the shrinking maiden. sergius was now more curious than angry; and he cared less to know who the conspirator was than how he looked. his surprise may be imagined when, the subject of investigation having approached near enough to be perfectly observed, instead of a monster marked, like cain, he appeared a graceful, though undersized person, with an agreeable countenance. the most unfavorable criticism he provoked was the loudness--if the word can be excused--of his dress. a bright red cloak, hanging in ample folds from an exaggerated buckle of purple enamel on his left shoulder, draped his left side; falling open on the right, it was caught by another buckle just outside the right knee. the arrangement loosed the right arm, but was a serious hamper to walking, and made it inconvenient to get out the rapier, the handle of which was protrusively suggested through the cloak. a tunic of bright orange color, short in sleeve and skirt, covered his body. where undraped, tight-fitting hose terminating in red shoes, flashed their elongated black and yellow stripes with stunning effect. a red cap, pointed at top, and rolled up behind, but with a long visor-like peak shading the eyes, and a white heron feather slanted in the band, brought the head into negligent harmony with the rest of the costume. the throat and left arm were bare, the latter from halfway above the elbow. this was the monk's first view of a byzantine gentleman of the period abroad in full dress to dazzle such of the gentler sex as he might chance to meet. if sergius' anticipation had been fulfilled; if, in place of the elegant, rakish-looking chevalier in florid garb, he had been confronted by an individual awry in body or hideous in feature, he would not have been confused, or stood repeating to himself, "my god, can this be a son of the hegumen?" that one so holy could have offspring so vicious stupefied him. the young man's sins would find him out--thus it was written--and then, what humiliation, what shame, what misery for the poor father! speeding his sympathy thus in advance, sergius waited until the foremost of the sedan carriers gave him the customary cry of warning. as he stepped aside, two things occurred. the occupant of the box lifted her veil and held out a hand to him. he had barely time to observe the gesture and the countenance more childlike because of the distress it was showing, when the negro appeared on the left side of the carriage. staying a moment to swing the javelin with which he was armed across the top of the buckler at his back, he leaped forward with the cry of an animal, and caught the gallant, one hand at the shoulder, the other at the knee. the cry and the seizure were parts of the same act. resistance had been useless had there been no surprise. the greek had the briefest instant to see the assailant--an instant to look up into the face blacker of the transport of rage back of it, and to cry for help. the mighty hands raised him bodily, and bore him swiftly toward the sea-front of the wall. there were spectators near by; amongst them some men; but they were held fast by terror. no one moved but sergius. having seen the provocation, he alone comprehended the punishment intended. the few steps to the wall were taken almost on the run. there, in keeping with his savage nature, the negro wished to see his victim fall, but a puff of wind blew the red cloak over his eyes, and he stopped to shake it aside. the greek in the interval seeing the jagged rocks below, and the waves rolling in and churning themselves into foam, caught at his enemy's head, and the teeth of the gold-gilt iron crown cut his palms, bringing the blood. he writhed, and into nilo's ears--pitiless if they had not been dead--poured screams for mercy. then sergius reached out, and caught him. nilo made no resistance. when he could free his eyes from the cloak he looked at the rescuer, who, unaware of his infirmity, was imploring him: "as thou lovest god, and hopest mercy for thyself, do no murder!" now, if not so powerful as nilo, sergius was quite as tall; and while they stood looking at each other, their faces a little apart, the contrast between them was many sided. and one might have seen the ferocity of the black visage change first with pleased wonder; then brighten with recognition. the byzantine gained his feet quickly, and in his turn taken with a murderous impulse, drew his sword. nilo, however, was quickest; the point of his javelin was magically promotive of sergius' renewed efforts to terminate the affair. a great many persons were now present. to bring a multitude in hot assemblage, strife is generally more potential than peace, assume what voice the latter may. these rallied to sergius' assistance; one brought the defeated youth his hat, fallen in the struggle; others helped him rearrange his dress; and congratulating him that he was alive, they took him in their midst, and carried him away. to have drawn upon such a giant! what a brave spirit the lad must possess! it pleased sergius to think he had saved the byzantine. his next duty was to go to the relief of the little princess. a dull fancy would have taught how trying the situation must have been to her; but with him the case was of a quick understanding quickened by solicitude. taking nilo with him, he made haste to the sedan. if we pause here, venturing on the briefest break in the narrative, it is for the reader's sake exclusively. he will be sure to see how fair the conditions are for a romantic passage between lael and sergius, and we fear lest he fly his imagination too high. it is true the period was still roseate with knighterrantry; men wore armor, and did battle behind shields; women were objects of devotion; conversation between lovers was in the style of high-flown courtesy, chary on one side, energized on the other by calls on the saints to witness vows and declarations which no saint, however dubious his reputation, could have listened to, much less excused; yet it were not well to overlook one or two qualifications. the usages referred to were by no means prevalent amongst christians in the east; in constantinople they had no footing at all. the two comneni, isaac and alexis, approached more nearly the western ideal of chivalry than any of the byzantine warriors; if not the only genuine knights of byzantium, they were certainly the last of them; yet even they stood aghast at the fantastic manners of the frankish armigerents who camped before their gates en route to the holy land. as a consequence, the language of ordinary address and intercourse amongst natives in the orient was simple and less discolored by what may be called pious profanity. their discourse was often dull and prolix, but never a composite of sacrilege and exaggeration. only in their writings were they pedantic. from this the reader can anticipate somewhat of the meeting between sergius and lael. it is to be borne in mind additionally that they were both young; she a child in years; he a child in lack of worldly experience. children cannot be other than natural. approaching the sedan anxiously, he found the occupant pale and faint. nilo being close at his side, she saw them both in the same glance, and reached her hand impulsively through the window. it was a question to which the member was offered. sergius hesitated. then she brought her face up unveiled. "i know you, i know you," she said, to sergius. "oh, i am so glad you are come! i was so scared--so scared--i will never go from home again. you will stay with me--say you will--it will be so kind of you.... i did not want nilo to kill the man. i only wanted him driven off and made let me alone. he has followed and persecuted me day after day, often as i came out. i could not set foot in the street without his appearing. my father would have me bring nilo along. he did not kill him, did he?" the hand remained held out during the speech, as if asking to be taken. meanwhile the words flowed like a torrent. the eyes were full of beseechment, and irresistibly lovely. if her speech was innocent, so was her appearance; and just as innocently, he took the hand, and held it while answering: "he was not hurt. friends have taken him away. do not be afraid." "you saved him. i saw you--my heart was standing still in my throat. oh, i am glad he is safe! i am no longer afraid. my father will be grateful; and he is generous--he loves me nearly as much as i love him. i will go home now. is not that best for me?" sergius had grown the tall man he was without having been so entreated--nay, without an adventure in the least akin to this. the hand lay in his folded lightly. he remembered once a dove flew into his cell. the window was so small it no doubt suggested to the poor creature a door to a nesting place. he remembered how he thought it a messenger from the heaven which he never gave over thinking of and longing for, and he wanted to keep it, for afterwhile he was sure it would find a way to tell him wherewith it was charged. and he took the gentle stray in his hand, and nursed it with exceeding tenderness. there are times when it seems such a blessing that memories lie shallow and easy to stir; and now he recalled how the winged nuncio felt like the hand he was holding--it was almost as soft, and had the same magnetism of life--ay, and the same scarce perceptible tremble. to be sure it was merely for the bird's sake he kept hold of the hand, while he answered: "yes, i think it best, and i will go with you to your father's door." to the carriers he said: "you will quit the wall at the grand stairs. the princess wishes to be taken home." the sensation of manliness incident to caring for the weak was refreshingly delightful. while the chair was passing he took place at the window. the fingers of the little hand still rested on the silken lining, like pinkish pearls. he beheld them longingly, but a restraint fell upon him. the pinkish pearls became sacred. he would have had them covered from the dust which the whisking breezes now blew up. the breezes were insolent. the sun, sinking in gold over the marmora, ought to temper the rays it let fall on them. long as the orb had shone, how curious that it never acquired art enough to know the things which too much of its splendor might spoil. then too he desired to speak with lael--to ask if she was any longer afraid--he could not. where had his courage gone? when he caught the young greek from nilo, the shortest while ago, he was wholly unconscious of timidity. the change was wonderful. nor was the awkwardness beginning to hamper his hands and feet less incomprehensible. and why the embarrassment when people paused to observe him? thus the party pursued on until the descent from the wall; he on the right side of the chair, and nilo on the left. down in the garden where they were following a walk across the terrace toward sta. sophia, lael put her face to the window, and spoke to him. his eagerness lest a word were lost was remarkable. he did not mind the stooping--and from his height that was a great deal--nor care much if it subjected him to remark. "have you seen the princess lately--she who lives at therapia?" lael asked. "oh, yes," he answered. "she is my little mother. i go up there often. she advises me in everything." "it must be sweet to have such a mother," lael said, with a smile. "it is sweet," he returned. "and how lovely she is, and brave and assuring," lael added. "why, i forgot when with her to be afraid. i forgot we were in the hands of those dreadful turks. i kept thinking of her, and not of myself." sergius waited for what more she had to say. "this afternoon a messenger came from her to my father, asking him to let me visit her." the heart of the monk gave a jump of pleasure. "and you will go?" a little older and wiser, and she would have detected a certain urgency there was in the tone with which he directed the inquiry. "i cannot say yet. i have not seen my father since the invitation was received; he has been with the emperor; but i know how greatly he admires the princess. i think he will consent; if so, i will go up to therapia to-morrow." sergius, silently resolving to betake himself thither early next morning, replied with enthusiasm: "have you seen the garden behind her palace?" "no." "well, of course i do not know what paradise is, but if it be according to my fancy, i should believe that garden is a piece of it." "oh, i know i shall be pleased with the princess, her garden--with everything hers." thereupon lael settled back in her chair, and nothing more was said till the sedan halted in front of the prince's door. appearing at the window there, she extended a hand to her escort. the pinkish pearls did not seem so far away as before, and they were now offered directly. he could not resist taking them. "i want you to know how very, very grateful i am to you," she said, allowing the hand to stay in his. "my father will speak to you about the day's adventure. he will make the opportunity and early.--but--but"-- she hesitated, and a blush overspread her face. "but what?" he said, encouragingly. "i do not know your name, or where you reside." "sergius is my name." "sergius?" "yes. and being a monk, i have a cell in the monastery of st. james of manganese. i belong to that brotherhood, and humbly pray god to keep me in good standing. now having told you who i am, may i ask"-- he failed to finish the sentence. happily she divined his wish. "oh," she said, "i am called gul-bahar by those who love me dearest, though my real name is lael." "by which am i to call you?" "good-by," she continued, passing his question, and the look of doubt which accompanied it. "good-by--the princess will send for me to-morrow." when the chair was borne into the house, it seemed to sergius the sun had rushed suddenly down, leaving a twilight over the sky. he turned homeward with more worldly matter to think of than ever before. for the first time in his life the cloister whither he was wending seemed lonesome and uncomfortable. he was accustomed to imagine it lighted and warmed by a presence out of heaven--that presence was in danger of supersession. occasionally, however, the girlish princess whom he was thus taking home with him gave place to wonder if the greek he had saved from nilo could be a son of the saintly hegumen; and the reflection often as it returned brought a misgiving with it; for he saw to what intrigues he might be subjected, if the claim were true, and the claimant malicious in disposition. when at last he fell asleep on his pillow of straw the vision which tarried with him was of walking with gul-bahar in the garden behind the homeric palace at therapia, and it was exceedingly pleasant. chapter vii a byzantine heretic while the venerable chapel on the way up the heights of blacherne was surrounded by the host of kneeling monastics, and the murmur of their prayers swept it round about like the sound of moaning breezes, a messenger found the hegumen of the st. james' with the compliments of the basileus, and a request that he come forward to a place in front of the door of the holy house. the good man obeyed; so the night long, maugre his age and infirmities, he stayed there stooped and bent, invoking blessings upon the emperor and empire; for he loved them both; and by his side sergius lingered dutifully torch in hand. twelve hours before he had engaged in the service worshipfully as his superior, nor would his thoughts have once flown from the mystery enacting; but now--alas, for the inconstancy of youth!--now there were intervals when his mind wandered. the round white face of the princess came again and again looking at him plainly as when in the window of the sedan on the promenade between the bucoleon and the sea. he tried to shut it out; but often as he opened the book of prayers which he carried in common with his brethren, trying to read them away; often as he shook the torch thinking to hide them in the resinous smoke, the pretty, melting, importunate eyes reappeared, their fascination renewed and unavoidable. they seemed actually to take his efforts to get away for encouragement to return. never on any holy occasion had he been so negligent--never had negligence on his part been so obstinate and nearly like sin. fortunately the night came to an end. a timid thing when first it peeped over the hills of scutari, the day emboldened, and at length filled the east, and left of the torches alive on the opposing face of blacherne only the sticks, the cups, and the streaming smoke. then the great host stirred, arose, and in a time incredibly brief, silently gave itself back to the city; while the basileus issued from his solitary vigils in the chapel, and, in a chastened spirit doubtless, sought his couch in one of the gilded interiors up somewhere under the tower of isaac. the hegumen of the st. james', overcome by the unwonted draughts upon his scanty store of strength, not to mention the exhaustion of spirit he had undergone, was carried home in a chair. sergius was faithful throughout. at the gate of the monastery he asked the elder's blessing. "depart not, my son; stay with me a little longer. thy presence is comforting to me." the adjuration prevailed. truth was, sergius wished to set out for therapia; but banishing the face of the little princess once more, he helped the holy man out of the chair, through the dark-stained gate, down along the passages, to his apartment, bare and penitential as that of the humblest neophyte of the brotherhood. having divested the superior of his robes, and, gently as he could, assisted him to lay his spent body on the narrow cot serving for couch, he then received the blessing. "thou art a good son, sergius," the hegumen said, with some cheer. "thou dost strengthen me. i feel thou art wholly given up to the master and his religion--nay, so dost thou look like the master that when thou art by i fancy it is he caring for me. thou art at liberty now. i give thee the blessing." sergius knelt, received the trembling hands on his bowed head, and kissed them with undissembled veneration. "father," he said, "i beg permission to be gone a few days." "whither?" "thou knowest i regard the princess irene as my little mother. i wish to go and see her." "at therapia?" "yes, father." the hegumen averted his eyes, and by the twitching of the fingers clasped upon his breast exposed a trouble at work in the depths of his mind. "my son," he at length said, "i knew the father of the princess irene, and was his sympathizer. i led the whole brotherhood in the final demand for his liberation from prison. when he was delivered, i rejoiced with a satisfied soul, and took credit for a large part of the good done him and his. it is not to magnify myself, or unduly publish my influence that the occurrence is recalled, but to show you how unnatural it would be were i unfriendly to his only child. so if now i say anything in the least doubtful of her, set it down to conscience, and a sense of duty to you whom i have received into the fraternity as one sent me specially by god.... the life the princess leads and her manners are outside the sanctions of society. there is no positive wrong in a woman of her degree going about in public places unveiled, and it must be admitted she does it most modestly; yet the example is pernicious in its effect upon women who are without the high qualities which distinguish her; at the same time the habit, even as she illustrates it, wears an appearance of defiant boldness, making her a subject of indelicate remark--making her, in brief, a topic for discussion. the objection, i grant, is light, being at worst an offence against taste and custom; much more serious is her persistence in keeping up the establishment at therapia. a husband might furnish her an excuse; but the turk is too near a neighbor--or rather she, a single woman widely renowned for beauty, is too tempting to the brutalized unbelievers infesting the other shore of the bosphorus. feminine timidity is always becoming; especially is it so when honor is more concerned than life or liberty. unmarried and unprotected, her place is in a holy house on the islands, or here in the city, where, aside from personal safety, she can have the benefit of holy offices. now rumor is free to accuse her of this and that, which charity in multitude and without stint is an insufficient mantle to save her from. they say she prefers guilty freedom to marriage; but no one, himself of account, believes it--the constitution of her household forbids the taint. they say she avails herself of seclusion to indulge uncanonized worship. in plain terms, my son, it is said she is a heretic." sergius started and threw up his hands. not that he was surprised at the charge, for the princess herself had repeatedly admitted it was in the air against her; but coming from the venerated chief of his brotherhood, the statement, though a hearsay, sounded so dreadfully he was altogether unprepared for it. knowing the consequences of heresy, he was also alarmed for her, and came near betraying himself. how interesting it would be to learn precisely and from the excellent authority before him, in what the heresy of the princess consisted. if there was criminality in her faith, what was to be said of his own? "father," he remarked, calmly as possible, "i mind not the other sayings, the reports which go to the princess' honor--they are the tarnishments which malice is always blowing on things white because they are white--but if it be not too trying to your strength, tell me more. wherein is she a heretic?" again, the gaunt fingers of the hegumen worked nervously, while his eyes averted themselves. "how can i satisfy your laudable question, my son, and be brief?" and with the words he brought his look back, resting it on the young man's face. "give attention, however, and i will try.... i take it you know the creed is the test of orthodoxy, and"--he paused and searched the eyes above his wistfully--"and that it has your unfaltering belief. you know its history, i am sure--at least you know it had issue from the council of nicaea over which constantine, the greatest of ail emperors, condescended to preside in person. never was proceeding more perfect; its perfection proved the divine mind in its composition; yet, sad to say, the centuries since the august council have been fruitful of disputes more or less related to those blessed canons, and sadder still, some of the disputes continue to this day. would to god there was no more to be said of them!" the good man covered his face with his hands, like one who would shut out a disagreeable sight. "but it is well to inform you, my son, of the questions whose agitation has at last brought the church down till only heaven can save it from rupture and ruin. oh, that i should live to make the acknowledgment--i who in my youth thought it founded on a rock eternal as nature itself!... a plain presentation of the subject in contention may help you to a more lively understanding of the gravity and untimeliness of the princess' departure.... first, let me ask if you know our parties by name. verily i came near calling them _factions_, and that i would not willingly, since it is an opprobrious term, resort to which would be denunciatory of myself--i being one of them." "i have heard of a roman party and of a greek party; but further, i am so recently come to constantinople, it would be safer did i take information of you." "a prudent answer, by our most excellent and holy patron!" exclaimed the hegumen, his countenance relaxing into the semblance of a smile. "be always as wise, and the st. james' will bless themselves that thou wert brought to us.... attend now. the parties are greek and roman; though most frequently its enemies speak of the latter as _azymites_, which you will understand is but a nickname. i am a romanist; the brotherhood is all roman; and we mind not when scholarius, and his arch-supporter, duke notaras, howl _azymite_ at us. a disputant never takes to contemptuous speeches except when he is worsted in the argument." the moderation of the hegumen had been thus far singularly becoming and impressive; now a fierce light gleamed in his eyes, and he cried, with a spasmodic clutch of the hands: "we are not of the forsworn! the curse of the perjured is not on our souls!" the intensity of his superior astonished sergius; yet he was shrewd enough to see and appreciate the disclosures of the outburst; and from that moment he was possessed of a feeling that the quarrel between the parties was hopelessly past settlement. if the man before him, worn with years, and actually laboring for the breath of life, could be so moved by contempt for the enemy, what of his co-partisans? age is ordinarily a tamer of the passions. here was an instance in which much contention long continued had counteracted the benign effect. as a teacher and example, how unlike this hegumen was to hilarion. the young man's heart warmed with a sudden yearning for the exile of the dear old lavra whose unfailing sweetness of soul could keep the frigid wilderness upon the white lake in summer purple the year round. never did love of man for man look so lovely; never did it seem so comprehensive and all sufficient! the nearest passion opposition could excite in that pure and chastened nature was pity. but here! quick as the reflection came, it was shut out. there was more to be learned. god help the heretic in the hands of this judge at this time! and with the mental exclamation sergius waited, his interest in the definition of heresy sharpened by personal concern. "there are five questions dividing the two parties," the hegumen continued, when the paroxysm of hate was passed. "listen and i will give them to you in naked form, trusting time for an opportunity to deal with them at large.... first then the procession of the holy ghost. that is, does the holy ghost proceed from the son, or from the father and the son? the greeks say from the son; the romans say the father and the son being one, the procession must needs be from both of them conjunctively.... next the nicene creed, as originally published, did undoubtedly make the holy ghost proceed from the father alone. the intent was to defend the unity of the godhead. subsequently the latins, designing to cast the assertion of the identity of the spirit of the father and the spirit of the son in a form which they thought more explicit, planted in the body of the creed the word _filioque_, meaning _from the son._ this the greeks declare an unwarranted addition. the latins, on their part, deny it an addition in any proper sense; they say it is but an explanation of the principle proclaimed, and in justification trace the usage from the fathers, greek and latin, and from councils subsequent to the nicene.... when we consider to what depths of wrangle the two themes have carried the children of god who should be brethren united in love, knowing rivalry only in zeal for the welfare of the church, that other subjects should creep in to help widen the already dangerous breach has an appearance like a judgment of god; yet it would be dealing unfairly with you, my son, to deny the pendency of three others in particular. of these we have first, shall the bread in the eucharist be leavened or unleavened? about six hundred years ago the latins began the use of unleavened bread. the greeks protested against the innovation, and through the centuries arguments have been bandied to and fro in good-natured freedom; but lately, within fifty years, the debate has degenerated into quarrel, and now--ah, in what terms suitable to a god-fearing servant can i speak of the temper signalizing the discussion now? let it pass, let it pass!... we have next a schism respecting purgatory. the greeks deny the existence of such a state, saying there are but two places awaiting the soul after death--heaven and hell." again the hegumen paused, arrested, as it were, by a return of vindictive passion. "oh, the schismatics!" he exclaimed. "not to see in the latin idea of a third place a mercy of god unto them especially! if only the righteous are admitted to the all holy father immediately upon the final separation of body and spirit; if there is no intermediate state for the purgation of such of the baptized as die sodden in their sins, what shall become of them?" sergius shuddered, but held his peace. "yet another point," the superior continued, ere the ruffle in his voice subsided--"another of which the wranglers have made the most; for as you know, my son, the greeks, thinking themselves teachers of all things intellectual, philosophy, science, poetry, art, and especially religion, and that at a period when the latins were in the nakedness of barbarism, are filled with pride, like empty bottles with air; and because in the light of history their pride is not unreasonable, they drop the more readily into the designs of the conspirators against the unity of the church--i speak now of the primacy. as if power and final judgment were things for distribution amongst a number of equals! as if one body were better of a hundred heads! who does not know that two wills equally authorized mean the absence of all will! of the foundations of god chaos alone is unorganized; and to such likeness scholarius would reduce christendom! god forbid! say so, my son--let me hear you repeat it after me--god forbid:" with an unction scarcely less fervid than his chief's, sergius echoed the exclamation; whereupon the elder looked at him, and said, with a flush on his face, "i fear i have given rein too freely to disgust and abhorrence. passion is never becoming in old men. lest you misjudge me, my son, i shall take one further step in explanation; it will be for you to then justify or condemn the feeling you have witnessed in me. a deeper wound to conscience, a grosser provocation to the divine vengeance, a perfidy more impious and inexcusable you shall never overtake in this life, though you walk in it thrice the years of noah.... there have been repeated attempts to settle the doctrinal differences to which i have referred. a little more than a hundred years ago--it was in the reign of andronicus iii.--one barlaam, a hegumen, like myself, was sent to italy by the emperor with a proposal of union; but benedict the pope resolutely refused to entertain the proposition, for the reason that it did not contemplate a final arrangement of the question at issue between the churches. was he not right?" sergius assented. "in , john v. palaeologus, under heavy pressure of the turks, renewed overtures of reconciliation, and to effectuate his purpose, he even became a catholic. then john vi., the late emperor, more necessitous than his predecessor, submitted such a presentation to the papal court that nicolos of cusa was despatched to constantinople to study and report upon the possibilities of a doctrinal settlement and union. in november, , the emperor, accompanied by joseph, the patriarch, besserion, archbishop of nicaea, and deputies empowered to represent the other patriarchs, together with a train of learned assistants and secretaries, seven hundred in all, set out for italy in response to the invitation of eugenius iv, the pope. landing at venice, the basileus was escorted to ferrara, where eugenius received him with suitable pomp. the council of basle, having been adjourned to ferrara for the better accommodation of the imperial guest, was opened there in april, . but the plague broke out, and the sessions were transferred to florence where the council sat for three years. dost thou follow me, my son?" "with all my mind, father, and thankful for thy painstaking." "nay, good sergius, thy attention more than repays me.... observe now the essentials of all the dogmatic questions i named to you as to-day serving the conspiracy against the unity of our beloved church were settled and accepted at the council of florence. the primacy of the roman bishop was the last to be disposed of, because distinguishable from the other differences by a certain political permeation; finally it too was reconciled in these words--bear them in memory, i pray, that you may comprehend their full import--'the holy apostolic see and roman pontiff hold the primacy over all the world; the roman pontiff is the successor of peter, prince of apostles, and he is the true vicar of christ, the head of the whole church, the father and teacher of all christians.' [footnote: addis and arnold's catholic die. .] in italy, --mark you, son sergius, but a trifle over eleven years ago--the members of the council from the east and west, the greeks with the latins--emperor, patriarchs, metropolitans, deacons, and lesser dignitaries of whatever title--signed a decree of union which we call the _hepnoticon_, and into which the above acceptances had been incorporated. i said all signed the decree--there were two who did not, mark of ephesus and the bishop stauropolis. the patriarch of constantinople, joseph, died during the council; yet the signatures of his colleagues collectively and of the emperor perfected the decree as to constantinople. what sayest thou, my son? as a student of holy canons, what sayest thou?" "i am but a student," sergius replied; "still to my imperfect perception the unity of the church was certainly accomplished." "in law, yes," said the hegumen, with difficulty rising to a sitting posture--"yes, but it remained to make the accomplishment binding on the consciences of the signatories. hear now what was done. a form of oath was draughted invoking the most awful maledictions on the parties who should violate the decree, and it was sworn to." "sworn to?" "ay, son sergius--sworn to by each and all of those attendant upon the council--from basileus down to the humblest catechumen inclusive, they took the oath, and by the taking bound their consciences under penalty of the eternal wrath of god. i spoke of certain ones forsworn, did i not?" sergius bowed. "and worse--i spoke of some whose souls were enduring the curse of the perjured. that was extreme--it was passion--i saw thee shudder at it, and i did not blame thee. hear me now, and thou wilt not blame me.... they came home, the basileus and his seven hundred followers. scarcely were they disembarked before they were called to account. the city, assembled on the quay, demanded of them: 'what have you done with us? what of our faith? have you brought us the victory?' the emperor hurried to his palace; the prelates hung their heads, and trembling and in fear answered: 'we have sold our faith--we have betrayed the pure sacrifice--we have become azymites.' [footnote: _hist. de l'eglise_ (l'abbe rohrbacher), d ed. vol. . . michel ducas.] thus spake bessarion; thus balsamon, archdeacon and guardian of the archives; thus gemiste of lacedaemon; thus antoine of heraclius; thus spake they all, the high and the low alike, even george scholarius, whom thou didst see marching last night first penitent of the vigils. 'why did you sign the decree?' and they answered, 'we were afraid of the franks.' perjury to impiety--cowardice to perjury!... and now, son sergius, it is said--all said--with one exception. some of the metropolitans, when they were summoned to sign the decree, demurred, 'without you pay us to our satisfaction we shall not sign.' the silver was counted down to them. nay, son, look not so incredulous--i was there--i speak of what i saw. what could be expected other than that the venals would repudiate everything? and so they did, all save metrophanes, the syncelle, and gregory, by grace of god the present patriarch. if i speak with heat, dost thou blame me? if i called the recusants forsworn and perjured, thinkest thou the pure in heaven charged my soul with a sin? answer as thou lovest the right?" "my father," sergius replied, "the denunciation of impiety cannot be sinful, else i have to unlearn all i have ever been taught; and being the chief shepherd of an honorable brotherhood, is it not thy duty to cry out at every appearance of wrong? that his serenity, the patriarch, receives thy acquittal and is notably an exception to a recusancy so universal, is comforting to me; to have to cast him out of my admiration would be grievous. but pardon me, if from fear thou wilt overlook it, i again ask thee to speak further of the heresy of the princess irene." sergius, besides standing with his back to the door of the cell, was listening to the hegumen with an absorption of sense so entire that he was unaware of the quiet entrance of a third party, who halted after a step or two but within easy hearing. "the request is timely--most timely," the hegumen replied, without regarding the presence of the newcomer. "i had indeed almost forgotten the princess.... with controversies such as i have recounted raging in the church, like wolves in a sheepfold, comes one with new doctrines to increase the bewilderment of the flock, how is he to be met? this is what the princess has done, and is doing." "still, father, you leave me in the dark." the hegumen faltered, but finally said: "apart from her religious views and novel habits, the princess irene is the noblest nature in byzantium. were we overtaken by some great calamity, i should look for her to rise by personal sacrifice into heroism. in acknowledgment of my fatherly interest in her, she has often entertained me at her palace, and spoken her mind with fearless freedom, leaving me to think her pursued by presentiments of a fatality which is to try her with terrible demands, and that she is already prepared to submit to them." "yes," said sergius, with an emphatic gesture, "there are who live martyrs all their days, reserving nothing for death but to bring them their crowns." the manner of the utterance, and the thought compelled the hegumen's notice. "my son," he said, presently, "thou hast a preacher's power. i wish i foreknew thy future. but i must haste or"-- "nay, father, permit me to help you recline again." and with the words, sergius helped the feeble body down. "thanks, my son," he received, in return, "i know thy soul is gentle." after a rest the speech was resumed. "of the princess--she is given to the scriptures; in the reading, which else would be a praiseworthy usage, she refuses light except it proceed from her own understanding. we are accustomed when in doubt--thou knowest it to be so--to take the interpretations of the fathers; but she insists the son of god knew what he meant better than any whose good intentions are lacking in the inspirations of the holy ghost." a gleam of pleasure flitted over the listener's countenance. "so," the hegumen continued, "she hath gone the length of fabricating a creed for herself, and substituting it for that which is the foundation of the church--i mean the creed transmitted to us from the council of nicaea." "is the substitute in writing, father?" "i have read it." "then thou canst tell me whence she drew it." "from the gospels word and word.... there now--i am too weak to enter into discussion--i can only allude to effects." "forgive another request"--sergius spoke hastily--"have i thy permission, to look at what she hath written?" "thou mayst try her with a request; but remember, my son"--the hegumen accompanied the warning with a menacious glance--"remember proselyting is the tangible overt act in heresy which the church cannot overlook.... to proceed. the princess' doctrines are damnatory of the nicene; if allowed, they would convert the church into a stumbling-block in the way of salvation. they cannot be tolerated.... i can no more--the night was too much for me. go, i pray, and order wine and food. to-morrow--or when thou comest again--and delay not, for i love thee greatly--we will return to the subject." sergius saw the dew gathering on the hegumen's pallid forehead, and observed his failing voice. he stooped, took the wan hand from the laboring breast, and kissed it; then turning about quickly to go for the needed restoration, he found himself face to face with the young greek whom he rescued from nilo in the encounter on the wall. chapter viii the academy of epicurus "i would have a word with you," the greek said, in a low tone, as sergius was proceeding to the door. "but thy father is suffering, and i must make haste." "i will accompany thee." sergius stopped while the young man went to the cot, removed his hat and knelt, saying, "thy blessing, father." the hegumen laid a hand on the petitioner's head. "my son, i have not seen thee for many days," he said; "yet in hope that thou hast heard me, and abandoned the associates who have been endangering thy soul and my good name, and because i love thee--god knows how well--and remember thy mother, who lived illustrating every beatitude, and died in grace, praying for thee, take thou my blessing." with tears starting in his own eyes, sergius doubted not the effect of the reproof upon the son; and he pitied him, and even regretted remaining to witness the outburst of penitence and grief he imagined forthcoming. the object of his sympathy took down the hand, kissed it in a matter-of-fact way, arose, and said, carelessly: "this lamentation should cease. why can i not get you to understand, father, that there is a new byzantium? that even in the hippodrome nothing is as it used to be except the colors? how often have i explained to you the latest social discovery admitted now by everybody outside the religious orders, and by many within them--i mean the curative element in sin." "curative element in sin!" exclaimed the father. "ay--pleasure." "o god!" sighed the old man, turning his face hopelessly to the wall, "whither are we drifting?" he hardly heard the prodigal's farewell. "if you wish to speak with me, stay here until i return." this sergius said when the two passed out of the cell. going down the darkened passage, he glanced behind him, and saw the greek outside the door; and when he came back with the hegumen's breakfast, and reentered the apartment, he brushed by him still on the outside. at the cot, sergius offered the refreshment on his knees, and in that posture waited while his superior partook of it; for he discerned how the aged heart was doubly stricken--once for the church, deserted by so many of its children, and again for himself, forsaken by his own son. "what happiness to me, o sergius, wert thou of my flesh and blood!" the expression covered every feeling evoked by the situation. afterwhile another of the brotherhood appeared, permitting sergius to retire. "i am ready to hear you now," he said, to the greek at the door. "let us to your cell then." in the cell, sergius drew forth the one stool permitted him by the rules of the brotherhood. "be seated," he said. "no," the visitor returned, "i shall be brief. you do not know my father. the st. james' should relieve him of active duty. his years are sadly enfeebling him." "but that would be ungrateful in them." "heaven knows," the prodigal continued, complainingly, "how i have labored to bring him up abreast of the time; he lives entirely in the past. but pardon me; if i heard aright, my father called you sergius." "that is my monastic name." "you are not a greek?" "the great prince is my political sovereign." "well, i am demedes. my father christened me metrophanes, after the late patriarch; but it did not please me, and i have entitled myself. and now we know each other, let us be friends." sergius' veil had fallen over his face, and while replacing it under the hat, he replied, "i shall strive, demedes, to love you as i love myself." the greek, it should be remembered, was good featured, and of a pleasant manner; so much so, indeed, as to partially recompense him for his failure in stature; wherefore the overture was by no means repulsive. "you may wonder at my plucking you from my father's side; you may wonder still more at my presumption in seeking to attach myself to you; but i think my reasons good.... in the first place, it is my duty to acknowledge that but for your interference yesterday the gigantic energumen by whom i was unexpectedly beset would have slain me. in fact, i had given myself up for lost. the rocks at the foot of the wall seemed springing out of the water to catch me, and break every bone in my body. you will accept my thanks, will you not?" "the saving two fellow beings, one from murder, the other from being murdered, is not, in my opinion, an act for thanks; still, to ease you of a sense of obligation, i consent to the acknowledgment." "it does relieve me," demedes said, with a taking air; "and i am encouraged to go on." he paused, and surveyed sergius deliberately from head to foot, and the admiration he permitted to be seen, taken as a second to his continuing words, could not have been improved by a professed actor. "are not flesh and blood of the same significance in all of us? with youth and health superadded to a glorious physical structure, may we not always conclude a man rich in spirit and lusty impulses? is it possible a gown and priestly hat can entirely suppress his human nature? i have heard of anthony the anchorite." the idea excited his humor, and he laughed. "i mean no irreverence," he resumed; "but you know, dear sergius, it is with laughter as with tears, we cannot always control it.... anthony resolved to be a saint, but was troubled by visions of beautiful women. to escape them, he followed some children of islam into the desert. alas! the visions went with him. he burrowed then in a tomb--still the visions. he hid next in the cellar of an old castle--in vain--the visions found him out. he flagellated himself for eighty and nine years, every day and night of which was a battle with the visions. he left two sheepskins to as many bishops, and one haircloth shirt to two favorite disciples--they had been his armor against the visions. finally, lest the seductive goblins should assail him in death, he bade the disciples lose him by burial in an unknown place. sergius, my good friend"--here the greek drew nearer, and laid a hand lightly on the monk's flowing sleeve--"i heard some of your replies to my father, and respect your genius too much to do more than ask why you should waste your youth"-- "forbear! go not further--no, not a word!" sergius exclaimed. "dost thou account the crown the saint at last won nothing?" demedes did not seem in the least put out by the demonstration; possibly he expected it, and was satisfied with the hearing continued him. "i yield to you," he said, with a smile, "and willingly since you convince me i was not mistaken in your perception.... my father is a good man. his goodness, however, but serves to make him more sensitive to opposition. the divisions of the church give him downright suffering. i have heard him go on about them hours at a time. probably his proneness to lamentation should be endured with respectful patience; but there is a peculiarity in it--he is blind to everything save the loss of power and influence the schisms are fated to entail upon the church. he fights valorously in season and out for the old orthodoxies, believing that with the lapse of religion as at present organized the respectability and dominion of the holy orders will also lapse. nay, sergius, to say it plainly, he and the brotherhood are fast keying themselves up to a point in fanaticism when dissent appears blackest heresy. to you, a straightforward seeker after information, it has never occurred, i suspect, to inquire how far--or rather how close--beyond that attainment lie punishments of summary infliction and most terrible in kind? torture--the stake--holocausts in the hippodrome--spectacles in the cynegion--what are they to the enthused churchmen but righteous judgments mercifully executed on wayward heretics? i tell you, monk--and as thou lovest her, heed me--i tell you the princess irene is in danger." this was unexpected, and forcibly put; and thinking of the princess, sergius lost the calmness he had up to this time successfully kept. "the princess--tortured--god forbid!" "recollect," the greek continued--"for you will reflect upon this--recollect i overheard the close of your interview with my father. to-morrow, or upon your return from therapia, be it when it may, he will interrogate you with respect to whatever she may confide to you in the least relative to the creed, which, as he states, she has prepared for herself. you stand warned. consider also that now i have in part acquitted myself of the obligation i am under to you for my life." the simple-mindedness of the monk, to whom the book of the world was just beginning to open, was an immense advantage to the greek. it should not be surprising, therefore, if the former relaxed his air, and leaned a little forward to hear what was further submitted to him. "have you breakfasted?" the prodigal asked, in his easy manner. "i have not." "ah! in concern for my father, you have neglected yourself. well, i must not be inconsiderate. a hungry man is seldom a patient listener. shall i break off now?" "you have interested me, and i may be gone several days." "very well. i will make haste. it is but justice to the belligerents in the spiritual war to admit the zeal they have shown; gregory the patriarch, and his latins, on the one side, and scholarius and his greeks on the other. they have occupied the pulpits alternately, each refusing presence to the other. they decline association in the sacramental rites. in sta. sophia, it is the papal mass to-day; to-morrow, it will be the greek mass. it requires a sharp sense to detect the opposition in smell between the incense with which the parties respectively fumigate the altars of the ancient house. i suppose there is a difference. yesterday the parabaloni came to blows over a body they were out burying, and in the struggle the bier was knocked down, and the dead spilled out. the greeks, being the most numerous, captured the labarum of the latins, and washed it in the mud; yet the monogram on it was identical with that on their own. still i suppose there was a difference." demedes laughed. "but seriously, sergius, there is much more of the world outside of the church--or churches, as you prefer--than on the inside. in the tearing each other to pieces, the militants have lost sight of the major part, and, as normally bound, it has engaged in thinking for itself. that is, the shepherd is asleep, the dogs are fighting, and the sheep, left to their individual conduct, are scattered in a hunt for fresher water and greener pasturage. have you heard of the academy of epicurus?" "no." "i will tell you about it. but do you take the seat there. it is not within my purpose to exhaust you in this first conference." "i am not tired." "well"--and the greek smiled pleasantly--"i was regardful of myself somewhat in the suggestion. my neck is the worse of having to look up so constantly.... the youth of byzantium, you must know, are not complaining of neglect; far from it--they esteem it a great privilege to be permitted to think in freedom. let me give you of their conclusions. there is no god, they say, since a self-respecting god would not tolerate the strife and babble carried on in his name to the discredit of his laws. religion, if not a deceit, is but the tinkling of brazen cymbals. a priest is a professor eking out an allowance of fine clothes and bread and wine; with respect to the multitude, he is a belled donkey leading a string of submissive camels. of what account are creeds except to set fools by the ears? which--not what--_which_ is the true christian faith? the patriarch tells us, 'verily it is this,' and scholarius replies, 'verily the patriarch is a liar and a traitor to god for his false teaching'--he then tells us it is that other thing just as unintelligible. left thus to ourselves--i acknowledge myself one of the wandering flock--flung on our own resources--we resorted to counselling each other, and agreed that a substitute for religion was a social necessity. our first thought was to revive paganism; worshipping many gods, we might peradventure stumble upon one really existent: whether good or bad ought not to trouble us, provided he took intelligent concern in the drift of things. to quarrel about his qualities would be a useless repetition of the folly of our elders--the folly of swimming awhile in a roaring swirl. some one suggested how much easier and more satisfactory it is to believe in one god than in many; besides which paganism is a fixed system intolerant of freedom. who, it was argued, would voluntarily forego making his own gods? the privilege was too delightful. then it was proposed that we resolve ourselves each into a god unto himself. the idea was plausible; it would at least put an end to wrangling, by giving us all an agreeable object to worship, while for mental demands and social purposes generally we could fall back on philosophy. had not our fathers tried philosophy? when had society a better well being than in the halcyon ages of plato and pythagoras? yet there was a term of indecision with us--or rather incubation. to what school should we attach ourselves? a copy of the enchiridion of epictetus fell into our hands, and after studying it faithfully, we rejected stoicism. the cynics were proposed; we rejected them--there was nothing admirable in diogenes as a patron. we next passed upon socratus. _sons of sophroniscus_ had a lofty sound; still his system of moral philosophy was not acceptable, and as he believed in a creative god, his doctrine was too like a religion. though the delphian oracle pronounced him the wisest of mankind, we concluded to look further, and in so doing, came to epicurus. there we stopped. his promulgations, we determined, had no application except to this life; and as they offered choice between the gratification of the senses and the practice of virtue, leaving us free to adopt either as a rule of conduct, we formally enrolled ourselves epicureans. then, for protection against the church, we organized. the departure might send us to the stake, or to tamerlane, king of the cynegion, or, infinitely worse, to the cloisters, if we were few; but what if we took in the youths of byzantium as an entirety? the policy was clear. we founded an academy--the academy of epicurus--and lodged it handsomely in a temple; and three times every week we have a session and lectures. our membership is already up in the thousands, selected from the best blood of the empire; for we do not confine our proselyting to the city." here sergius lifted his hand. he had heard the prodigal in silence, and it had been difficult the while to say which dominated his feeling--disgust, amazement, or pity. he was scarcely in condition to think; yet he comprehended the despairing cry of the hegumen, oh, my god! whither are we drifting? the possibilities of the scheme flew about him darkly, like birds in a ghastly twilight. he had studied the oppositions to religion enough to appreciate the attractive power there was for youth in the pursuit of pleasure. he knew also something of the race epicureanism had run in the old competitions of philosophy--that it had been embraced by more of the cultivated pagan world than the other contemporary systems together. it had been amongst the last, if not in fact the very last, of the conquests of christianity. but here it was again; nor that merely--here it was once more a subject of organized effort. who was responsible for the resurrection? the church? how wicked its divisions seemed to him! bishop fighting bishop--the clergy distracted--altars discredited--sacred ceremonies neglected--what did it all mean, if not an interregnum of the word? men cannot fight satan and each other at the same time. with such self-collection as he could command, he asked: "what have you in substitution of god and christ?" "a principle," was the reply. "what principle?" "pleasure, the purpose of this life, and its pursuit, an ennobled occupation." "pleasure to one is not pleasure to another--it is of kinds." "well said, o sergius! our kind is gratification of the senses. few of us think of the practice of virtue, which would be dreaming in the midst of action." "and you make the pursuit an occupation?" "in our regard the heroic qualities of human nature are patience, courage and judgment; hence our motto--patience, courage, judgment. the pursuit calls them all into exercise, ennobling the occupation." the greek was evidently serious. sergius ran him over from the pointed shoes to the red feather in the conical red hat, and said in accents of pity: "oh, alas! thou didst wrong in re-entitling thyself. depravity had been better than demedes." the greek lifted his brows, and shrugged his shoulders. "in the academy we are used to taking as well as giving," he said, wholly unembarrassed. "but, my dear sergius, it remains for me to discharge an agreeable commission. last night, in full session, i told of the affair on the wall. could you have heard my description of your intervention, and the eulogium with which i accompanied it, you would not have accused me of ingratitude. the brethren were carried away; there was a tempest of applause; they voted you a hero; and, without a dissent, they directed me to inform you that the doors of the academy were open"-- "stop," said sergius, with both hands up as if to avert a blow. after looking at the commissioner a moment, his eyes fiercely bright, he walked the floor of the cell twice. "demedes," he said, halting in front of the greek, a reactionary pallor on his countenance, "the effort thou art making to get away from god proves how greatly he is a terror to thee. the academy is only a multitude thou hast called together to help hide thee from christ. thou art an organizer of sin--a disciple of satan"--he was speaking not loud or threateningly, but with a force before which the other shrank visibly--"i cannot say i thank thee for the invitation on thy tongue unfinished, but i am better of not hearing it. get thee behind me." he turned abruptly, and started for the door. the greek sprang after him, and took hold of his gown. "sergius, dear sergius," he said, "i did not intend to offend you. there is another thing i have to speak about. stay!" "is it something different?" sergius asked. "ay--as light and darkness are different." "be quick then." sergius was standing under the lintel of the door. demedes slipped past him, and on the outside stopped. "you are going to therapia?" he asked. "yes." "the princess of india will be there. she has already set out." "how knowest thou?" "she is always under my eyes." the mockery in the answer reminded sergius of the academy. the prodigal was designing to impress him with an illustration of the principle it had adopted in lieu of god. the motto, he was having it thus early understood, was not an empty formula, but an inspiring symbol, like the cross on the flag. this votary, the advertisement as much as said, was in pursuit of the little princess--he had chosen her for his next offering to the principle which, like another god, was insatiable of gifts, sacrifices, and honors. such the thoughts of the monk. "you know her?" demedes asked. "yes." "you believe her the daughter of the prince of india?" "yes." "then you do not know her." the greek laughed insolently. "the best of us, and the oldest can be at times as much obliged by information as by a present of bezants. the academy sends you its compliments. the girl is the daughter of a booth-keeper in the bazaar--a jew, who has no princely blood to spare a descendant--a dog of a jew, who makes profit by lending his child to an impostor." "whence hadst thou this--this--" the greek paid no attention to the interruption. "the princess irene gives a fete this afternoon. the fishermen of the bosphorus will be there in a body. i will be there. a pleasant time to you, and a quick awakening, o sergius!" demedes proceeded up the passage, but turned about, and said: "patience, courage, judgment. when thou art witness to all there is in the motto. o sergius, it may be thou wilt be more placable. i shall see to it that the doors of the academy are kept open for thee." the monk stood awhile under the lintel bewildered; for the introduction to wickedness is always stunning--a circumstance proving goodness to be the natural order. chapter ix a fisherman's fete the breakfast to which sergius addressed himself was in strict observance of the rules of the brotherhood; and being plain, it was quickly despatched. returning to his cell, he let his hair loose, and combed it with care; then rolling it into a glistening mass, he tucked it under his hat. selecting a fresher veil next, he arranged that to fall down his back and over the left shoulder. he also swept the dark gown free of dust, and cleansing the crucifix and large black horn beads of his rosary, lingered a moment while contemplating the five sublime mysteries allotted to the third chaplet, beginning with the resurrection of christ and ending with the coronation of the blessed virgin. in a calmness of spirit such as follows absolution, he finally sallied from the monastery, and ere long arrived at the landing outside the fish market gate on the golden horn. the detentions had been long; so for speed he selected a two-oared boat. "to therapia--by noon," he said to the rower, and, dropping into the passenger's box, surrendered himself to reflection. the waterway by which the monk proceeded is not unfamiliar to the reader, a general idea of it having been given in the chapter devoted to the adventures of the prince of india in his outing up the bosphorus to the sweet waters of asia. the impression there sought to be conveyed--how feebly is again regretfully admitted--was of a panorama remarkable as a composition of all the elements of scenic beauty blent together in incomparable perfection. now, however, it failed the tribute customary from such as had happily to traverse it. the restfulness of the swift going; the shrinking of the flood under the beating of the oars; the sky and the wooded heights, and the stretches of shore, town and palace lined; the tearing through the blue veil hanging over the retiring distances; the birds, the breezes, the ships hither coming and yonder going, and the sparkles shooting up in myriad recurrence on the breaking waves--all these pleasures of the most delicate of the receiving senses were tyrannically forbidden him. the box in which he sat half reclining was wide enough for another passenger side by side with him, and it seemed he imagined the vacant place occupied now by demedes, and now by lael, and that he was speaking to them; when to the former, it was with dislike, and a disposition to avoid the touch of his red cloak, though on the sleeve ever so lightly; when to the latter, his voice would lower, his eyes soften, and the angry spots on his brow and cheeks go out--not more completely could they have disappeared had she actually exorcised them with some of the sweet confessions lovers keep for emergencies, and a touch of finger besides. "so," he would say, demedes for the time on the seat, "thou deniest god, and hast a plot against christ. shameful in the son of a good father!... what is thy academy but defiance of the eternal majesty? as well curse the holy ghost at once, for why should he who of preference seeketh a bed with the damned he disappointed? or is thy audacity a blasphemous trial of the endurance of forgiveness?".... exit demedes, enter lael.... "the child--she is a child! by such proof as there is in innocence, and in the loveliness of blushing cheeks, and eyes which answer the heavenly light they let in by light as heavenly let out, she is a child! what does evil see in her to set it hungering after her? or is there in virtue a signal to its enemies--lo, here! a light to be blown out, lest it disperse our darkness!".... reenter demedes.... "abduct her!--how?--when? to that end is it thou keepest her always under eye? the princess irene gives a fisherman's fete--the child will be there--thou wilt be there. is this the day of the attempt? bravos as fishermen, to seize her--boats to carry her off--the bosphorus wide and deep, and the hills beyond a hiding-place, and in the sky over them the awful name turk. the crime and the opportunity hand in hand! let them prosper now, and i who have from the cradle's side despatched my soul faith in hand to lay it at heaven's gate may never again deny a merit in the invocation of sin virtuous as prayer".... to lael in the seat.... "but be not afraid. i will be there also. i"... a sudden fear fell upon him. if the abduction were indeed arranged for the afternoon, to what might he not be led by an open attempt to defeat it? bloodshed--violence! he whose every dream had been of a life in which his fellow-men might find encouragement to endure their burdens, and of walking before them an example of love and forbearance, submissive and meek that he might with the more unanswerable grace preach obedience and fraternity to them--merciful heaven! and he shuddered and drew the veil hastily over his face, as if, in a bloody tumult, the ideal life, so the ultimate happiness, were vanishing before his eyes. taking the confessions of such as have been greatly tried, few men, few even of those renowned for courage and fine achievement, ever pass their critical moments of decision unassailed by alternative suggestions due to fear. sergius heard them now. "return to thy cell, and to thy beads, and prayer," they seemed to say. "what canst thou, a stranger in a strange land, if once the academy of which thou wert this morning informed, becomes thy enemy? ay, return to thy cell! who is she for whom thou art putting thyself in the way of temptation? the daughter of a booth-keeper in the bazaar--a jew, who hath no princely blood to spare a descendant--a dog of a jew, who maketh profit by lending his child to an impostor." the suggestion was powerful. in the heat of the debate, however, an almost forgotten voice reached him, reciting one of the consolations of father hilarion: "temptations are for all of us; nor shall any man be free of them. the most we can hope is to be delivered from them. what vanity to think we can travel threescore and ten years from our cradles, if so long we live, without an overture of some kind from the common enemy! on the other side, what a triumph to put his blandishments by! the great exemplar did not fly from satan; he stayed, and overcame him." "be not afraid," sergius said, as if to lael, and firmly, like one resolved of fear and hesitation. "i will be there also." then looking about him, at his left hand he beheld the village of emirghian, bent round a mountain's base, in places actually invading the water. in face of such a view a susceptible nature must needs be very sick of soul to go blindly on. the brightly painted houses cast tremulous reflections to a vast depth in the limpid flood, and where they ceased, down immeasurably, the vivid green of the verdure on the mountain's breast suggested the beginning of the next of the seven mohammedan earths. above this borrowed glory he seemed afloat; and to help the impression, the sound of many voices singing joyously was borne to him. he waved his hand, and the rowers, resting from their labor, joined him in listening. the little gulf of stenia lies there landlocked, and out of it a boat appeared, skimming around the intervening promontory. in a mass of flowers, in a shade of garlands hanging from a low mast, its arms and shrouds wreathed with roses, the singers sat timing their song with their oars. the refrain was supported by zitheras, flutes and horns. the vessel turned northwardly when fairly out in the strait; and then another boat came round the point--and another--and another--and many others, all decorated, and filled with men, women and children making music. sergius' boatmen recognized the craft, deep in the water, black and long, and with graceful upturned ends. "fishermen!" they said. and he rejoined: "yes. the princess irene gives them a fete. make haste. i will go with them. fall in behind." "yes, yes--a good woman! of such are the saints!" they said, signing the cross on breast arid brow. the singing and the gala air of the party put sergius in his wonted spirits; and as here and there other boats fell into the line, similarly decorated, their occupants adding to the volume of the singing, by the time therapia was sighted the good-natured, happy fishermen had given him of their floral abundance, and adopted him. what a scene the therapian bay presented! boats, boats, boats--hundreds of them in motion, hundreds lining the shore, the water faithfully repeating every detail of ornature, and apparently a-quiver with pleasure. the town was gay with colors; while on the summit and sides of the opposite promontory every available point answered flaunt with flaunt. and there were song and shouting, gladsome cries of children, responses of mothers, and merriment of youth and maiden. byzantium might be in decadence, her provinces falling away, her glory wasting; the follies of the court and emperors, the best manhood of the empire lost in cloisters and hermitages, the preference of the nobility for intrigue and diplomacy might be all working their deplorable results--nay, the results might be at hand! still the passion of the people for fetes and holidays remained. tastes are things of heredity. in nothing is a byzantine of this day so nearly a classic greek as in his delicacy and appreciation where permitted to indulge in the beautiful. the boatmen passed through the gay entanglement of the bay slowly and skilfully, and finally discharged their passengers on the marble quay a little below the regular landing in front of the red pavilion over the entrance to the princess' grounds. the people went in and out of the gate without hindrance; nor was there guard or policeman visible. their amiability attested their happiness. the men were mostly black-bearded, sunburned, large-handed, brawny fellows in breeches black and amply bagged, with red sashes and light blue jackets heavily embroidered. the legs below the knees were exposed, and the feet in sandals. white cloths covered their heads. their eyes were bright, their movements agile, their air animated. many of them sported amulets of shell or silver suspended by ribbons or silken cords around their bare necks. the women wore little veils secured by combs, but rather as a headdress, and for appearances. they also affected the sleeveless short jacket over a snowy chemise; and what with bright skirts bordered with worsted chenille, and sandal straps carried artfully above the ankles, they were not wanting in picturesqueness. some of the very young amongst them justified the loveliness traditionally ascribed to the nymphs of hellas and the fair cycladean isles. much the greater number, however, were in outward seeming prematurely old, and by their looks, their voices ungovernably shrill, and the haste and energy with which they flung themselves into the amusement of the hour unconsciously affirmed that fishermen's wives are the same everywhere. one need not go far to find the frontiers of society--too frequently they are close under the favorite balcony of the king. something on the right cheek of the gate under the pavilion furnished an attraction to the visitors. when sergius came up, he was detained by a press of men and women in eager discussion; and following their eyes and the pointing of their fingers, he observed a brazen plate overhead curiously inscribed. the writing was unintelligible to him as to his neighbors. it looked turkish--or it might have been arabic--or it might not have been writing at all. he stayed awhile listening to the conjectures advanced. presently a gypsy approached leading a bear, which, in its turn, was drawing a lot of noisy boys. he stopped, careless of the unfriendly glances with which he was received, and at sight of the plate saluted it with a low salaam several times unctuously repeated. "look at the hamari there. he can tell what the thing means." "then ask him." "i will. see here, thou without a religion, consort of brutes! canst thou tell what this"--pointing to the plate--"is for? come and look at it!" "it is not needful for me to go nearer. i see it well enough. neither am i without a religion. i do not merely profess belief in god--i believe in him," the bear-keeper replied. the fisherman took the retort and the laugh it occasioned good-humoredly, and answered: "very well, we are even; and now perhaps thou canst tell me what i asked." "willingly, since thou canst be decent to a stranger.... the young mahommed, son of amurath, sultan of sultans"--the gypsy paused to salute the title--"the young mahommed, i say, is my friend." the bystanders laughed derisively, but the man proceeded. "he has resided this long time at magnesia, the capital of a prosperous province assigned to his governorship. there never was one of such station so civil to his people, and much learning has had a good effect upon his judgment; it has taught him that the real virtue of amusement lies in its variety. did he listen exclusively to his doctors discoursing of philosophy, or to his professor of mathematics, or to his poets and historians, he would go mad even as they are mad; wherefore, along with his studies, he hunts with hawk and hound; he tilts and tourneys; he plays the wandering minstrel; and not seldom joqard and i--hey, fellow, is it not so?" he gave the bear a tremendous jerk--"joqard and i have been to audience with him in his palace." "a wonderful prince no doubt; but i asked not of him. the plate, man--what of this plate? if nothing, then give way to joqard." "there are fools and fools--that is, there are plain fools and wise fools. the wise fool answering the plain fool, is always more particular with his premises than his argument." the laugh was with the hamari again; after which he continued: "so, having done with explanation, now to satisfy you." from the breast of his gown, he brought forth a piece of bronze considerably less than the plate on the gate, but in every other respect its counterpart. "see you this?" he said, holding the bronze up to view. there was quick turning from plate to plate, and the conclusion was as quick. "they are the same, but what of it?" "this--joqard and i went up one day and danced for the prince, and at the end he dismissed us, giving me a red silk purse fat with gold pieces, and to joqard this passport. mark you now. the evil minded used to beat us with cudgels and stones--i mean among the turk--but coming to a town now, i tie this to joqard's collar, and we have welcome. we eat and drink, and are given good quarters, and sped from morning to morning without charge." "there is some magic in the plate, then?" "no," said the hamari, "unless there is magic in the love of a people for the prince to be their ruler. it certifies joqard and i are of prince mahommed's friends, and that is enough for turks; and the same yonder. by the sign, i know this gate, these grounds, and the owner of them are in his protection. but," said the bear-keeper, changing his tone, "seeing one civil answer deserves another, when was prince mahommed here?" "in person? never." "oh, he must have been." "why do you say so?" "because of the brass plate yonder." "what does it prove?" "ah, yes!" the man answered laughingly. "joqard and i pick up many odd things, and meet a world of people--don't we, fellow?" another furious jerk of the leading strap brought a whine from the bear, "but it is good for us. we teach school as we go; and you know, my friend, for every _solidus_ its equivalent in _noumia_ is somewhere." "i will give you a _noumia_, if you will give me an answer." "a bargain--a bargain, with witnesses!" then after a glance into the faces around, as if summoning attention to the offer, the hamari proceeded. "listen. i say the brass up there proves prince mahommed was here in person. wishing to notify his people that he had taken in his care everything belonging to this property, the owner included, the prince put his signature to the proclamation." "proclamation?" "yes--you may call it plain brass, if you prefer; none the less the writing on it is _mahommed:_ and because such favors must bear his name on them, they are reserved for his giving. no other man, except the great sultan, his father, would bestow one of them. joqard had his from the prince's hand directly; wherefore--i hope, friend, you have the _noumia_ ready--the brass on this post must have been fixed there by the prince with his own hand." the fishermen were satisfied; and it was wonderful how interesting the safeguard then became to them. by report they knew mahommed the prospective successor of the terrible amurath; they knew him a soldier conspicuous in many battles; and from the familiar principle by which we admire or dread those possessed of qualities unlike and superior to our own, their ideas and speculations concerning him were wild and generally harsh. making no doubt now that he had really been to the gate, they asked themselves, what could have been his object? to look at the plate was next thing to looking at the man. even sergius partook of the feeling. to get a better view, he shifted his position, and was beset by inquietudes not in the understanding of the fishermen. the princess irene, her property and dependents, were subjects of protection by the moslem; that much was clear; but did she know the fact? had she seen the prince? then the hegumen's criticism upon the persistence with which she kept her residence here, a temptation to the brutalized unbeliever on the other shore, derived a point altogether new. sergius turned away, and passed into the well-tended grounds. while too loyal to the little mother, as he tenderly called the princess, to admit a suspicion against her, with painful clearness, he perceived the opportunity the affair offered her enemies for the most extreme accusations; and he resolved to speak to her, and, if necessary, to remonstrate. traversing the shelled roadway up to the portico of the palace, he looked back through the red pavilion, and caught a glimpse of joqard performing before a merry group of boys and elders male and female. chapter x the hamari the love of all things living which was so positively a trait of character with the princess irene was never stinted in her dealings with her own country folk. on this occasion her whole establishment at therapia was accorded her guests; yet, while they wandered at will merry-making through the gardens, and flashed their gay colors along the side and from the summit of the promontory, they seemed to have united in holding the palace in respectful reserve. none of them, without a special request, presumed to pass the first of the steps leading up into the building. when sergius, approaching from the outer gate, drew nigh the front of the palace, he was brought to a stop by a throng of men and women packed around a platform the purpose of which was declared by its use. it was low, but of generous length and breadth, and covered with fresh sail-cloth; at each corner a mast had been raised, with yard-arms well squared, and dressed profusely in roses, ferns, and acacia fronds. on a gallery swung to the base of the over-pending portico, a troupe of musicians were making the most of flute, cithara, horn, and kettle-drum, and not vainly, to judge from the flying feet of the dancers in possession of the boards. lifting his eyes above the joyous exhibition, he beheld the carven capitals of the columns, tied together with festoonery of evergreens, and relieved by garlands of shining flowers, and above the musicians, under a canopy shading her from the meridian sun, the princess irene herself. a bright carpet hanging down the wall enriched the position chosen by her, and in the pleasant shade, surrounded by young women, she sat with uncovered head and face, delighted with the music and the dancing--delighted that it was in her power to bring together so many souls to forget, though so briefly, the fretting of hard conditions daily harder growing. none knew better than she the rapidity of the national decadence. it was not long until the young hostess noticed sergius, taller of his high hat and long black gown; and careless as usual of the conventionalities, she arose, and beckoned to him with her fan; and the people, seeing whom she thus honored, opened right and left, and with good-will made way for him. upon his coming her attendants drew aside--all but one, to whom for the moment he gave but a passing look. the princess received him seated. the youthful loveliness of her countenance seemed refined by the happiness she was deriving from the spectacle before her. he took the hand she extended him, kissed it respectfully, with only a glance at the simple but perfected greek of her costume, and immediately the doubts, and fears, and questions, and lectures in outline he had brought with him from the city dropped out of mind. suspicion could not look at her and live. "welcome, sergius," she said, with dignity. "i was afraid you would not come to-day." "why not? if my little mother's lightest suggestions are laws with me, what are her invitations?" for the first time he had addressed her by the affectionate term, and the sound was startling. the faintest flush spread over her cheek, admonishing him that the familiarity had not escaped attention. greatly to his relief, she quietly passed the matter. "you were at the _pannychides?_" she asked. "yes, till daybreak." "i thought so, and concluded you would be too weary to see us to-day. the mystery is tedious." "it might become so if too frequently celebrated. as it was, i shall not forget the hillside, and the multitude of frocked and cowled figures kneeling in the dim red light of the torches. the scene was awful." "did you see the emperor?" she put the question in a low tone. "no," he returned. "his majesty sent for our hegumen to come to the chapel. the good man took me with him, his book and torch bearer; but when we arrived, the emperor had passed in and closed the door, and i could only imagine him on his knees alone in the room, except as the relics about him were company." "how unspeakably dismal!" she said with a shudder, adding in sorrowful reflection, "i wish i could help him, for he is a prince with a tender conscience; but there is no way--at least heaven does not permit me to see anything for him in my gift but prayer." sergius followed her sympathetically, and was surprised when she continued, the violet gray of her eyes changing into subtle fire. "a sky all cloud; the air void of hope; enemies mustering everywhere on land; the city, the court, the church rent by contending factions--behold how a christian king, the first one in generations, is plagued! ah, who can interpret for providence? and what a miracle is prophecy!" thereupon the princess bethought herself, and cast a hurried glance out over the garden. "no, no! if these poor souls can forget their condition and be happy, why not we? tell me good news, sergius, if you have any--only the good. but see! who is he making way through the throng yonder? and what is it he is leading?" the transition of feeling, though sudden and somewhat forced, was successful; the princess' countenance again brightened; and turning to follow her direction, sergius observed lael, who had not fallen back with the other attendants. the girl had been a modest listener; now there was a timid half smile on her face, and a glistening welcome in her eyes. his gaze stopped short of the object which had inspired his hostess with such interest, and dropped to the figured carpet at the guest's feet; for the feeling the recognition awakened was clouded with the taunt demedes had flung at him in the hall of the monastery, and he questioned the rightfulness of this appearance. if she were not the daughter of the prince of india, she was an--impostor was the word in his mind. "i was expecting you," she said to him, artlessly. sergius raised his face, and was about to speak, when the princess started from her seat, and moved to the low balustrade of the portico. "come," she called, "come, and tell me what this is." sergius left a friendly glance with lael. where the roadway from the gate led up to the platform an opening had been made in the close wall of spectators attracted by the music and dancing. in the opening, the hamari was slowly coming forward, his turban awry, his brown face overrun and shining with perspiration, his sharp gypsy eyes full of merriment. with the leading strap over a shoulder, he tugged at joqard. sergius laughed to see the surprise of the men and women, and at the peculiar yells and screams with which they struggled to escape. but everybody appearing in good nature, he said to the princess: "do not be concerned. a turk or persian with a trained bear. i passed him at the gate." he saw the opportunity of speaking about the brass plate on the post, and while debating whether to avail himself of it, the hamari caught sight of the party at the edge of the portico, stopped, surveyed them, then prostrated himself in the abjectest eastern manner. the homage was of course to the princess--so at least the assemblage concluded; and jumping to the idea that the bear-keeper had been employed by her for their divertisement, each man in the company resolved himself into an ally and proceeded to assist him. the musicians were induced to suspend their performance, and the dancers to vacate the platform; then, any number of hands helping them up, joqard and his master were promoted to the boards, sole claimants of attention and favor. the fellow was not in the least embarrassed. he took position on the platform in front of the princess, and again saluted her orientally, and with the greatest deliberation, omitting no point of the prostration. bringing the bear to a sitting posture with folded paws, he bowed right and left to the spectators, and made a speech in laudation of joqard. his grimaces and gesticulation kept the crowd in a roar; when addressing the princess, his manner was respectful, even courtierly. joqard and he had travelled the world over; they had been through the far east, and through the lands of the frank and gaul; they had crossed europe from paris to the black sea, and up to the crimea; they had appeared before the great everywhere--indian rajahs, tartar khans, persian shahs, turkish sultans; there was no language they did not understand. the bear, he insisted, was the wisest of animals, the most susceptible of education, the most capable and willing in service. this the ancients understood better than the moderns, for in recognition of his superiority they had twice exalted him to the heavens, and in both instances near the star that knew no deviation. the hamari was a master of amplification, and his anecdotes never failed their purpose. "now," he said, "i do not care what the subject of discourse may be; one thing is true--my audience is always composed of believers and unbelievers; and as between them"--here he addressed himself to the princess--"as between them, o most illustrious of women, my difficulty has been to determine which class is most to be feared. every philosopher must admit there is quite as much danger in the man who withholds his faith when it ought to be given, as in his opposite who hurries to yield it without reason. my rule as an auditor is to wait for demonstration. so"--turning to the assemblage--"if here any man or woman doubts that the bear is the wisest of animals, and joqard the most learned and accomplished of bears, i will prove it." then joqard was called on. "for attend, o illustrious princess!--and look ye, o men and women, pliers of net and boat!--look ye all! now shall joqard himself speak for joqard." the hamari began talking to the bear in a jargon utterly unintelligible to his hearers, though they fell to listening with might and main, and were silent that they might hear. nothing could have been more earnest than his communications, whatever they were; at times he put an arm about the brute's neck; at times he whispered in its ear; and in return it bowed and grunted assent, or growled and shook its head in refusal, always in the most knowing manner. in this style, to appearance, he was telling what he wanted done. then retaining the leading strap, the master stepped aside, and joqard, left to himself, proceeded to prove his intelligence and training by facing the palace, bringing his arms overhead, and falling forward. everybody understood the honor intended for the princess; the bystanders shouted; the attendants on the portico clapped their hands, for indeed never in their remembrance had the prostration been more profoundly executed. arising nimbly the performer wheeled about, reared on his hind feet, clasped his paws on his head, and acknowledged the favor of the commonalty by resolving himself into a great fur ball, and rolling a somersault. the acclamation became tumultuous. one admirer ran off and returned with an armful of wreaths and garlands, and presently joqard was wearing them royally. with excellent judgment the hamari proceeded next to hurry the exhibition, passing from one trick to another almost without pause until the wrestling match was reached. this has been immemorially the reliable point in performances of the kind he was giving, but he introduced it in a manner of his own. standing by the edge of the platform, as the friend and herald of joqard, he first loudly challenged the men before him, every one ambitious of honor and renown, to come up and try a fall; and upon their hanging back, he berated them. wherever a tall man stood observable above the level of heads, he singled him out. failing to secure a champion, he finally undertook the contest himself. "ho, joqard," he cried, while tying the leading strap around the brute's neck, "thou fearest nothing. thy dam up in the old caucasian cave was great of heart, and, like her, thou wouldst not quail before hercules, were he living. but thou shalt not lick thy paws and laugh, thinking hercules hath no descendant." retiring a few steps he tightened the belt about his waist, and drew his leathern jacket closer. "get ready!" he cried. joqard answered promptly and intelligently by standing up and facing him, and in sign of satisfaction with the prospect of an encounter so to his taste, he lolled the long red tongue out of his jaws. was he licking his chops in anticipation of a feast or merely laughing? the beholders became quiet; and sergius for the first time observed how very low in stature the hamari seemed. "look out, look out! o thou with the north star in the tip of thy tail! i am coming--for the honor of mankind, i am coming." they danced around each other watching for an opening. "aha! now thou thinkest to get the advantage. thou art proud of thy fame, and cunning, but i am a man. i have been in many schools. look out!" the hamari leaped in and with both hands caught the strap looped around joqard's neck; at the same time he was himself caught in joqard's ready arms. the growl with which the latter received the attack was angry, and lent the struggle much more than a mere semblance of danger. round and about they were borne; now forward, then back; sometimes they were likely to tumble from the boards. the hamari's effort was to choke joqard into submission; joqard's was to squeeze the breath out of the hamari's body; and they both did their parts well. after some minutes the man's exertions became intermittent. a little further on the certainty of triumph inspired joqard to fierce utterances; his growls were really terrible, and he hugged so mercilessly his opponent grew livid in the face. the women and children began to cry and scream, and many of the men shouted in genuine alarm: "see, see! the poor fellow is choking to death!" the excitement and fear extended to the portico; some of the attendants there, unable to endure the sight, fled from it. lael implored sergius to save the hamari. even the princess was undecided whether the acting was real or affected. finally the crisis came. the man could hold out no longer; he let go his grip on the strap, and, struggling feebly to loose his body from the great black arms, shouted hoarsely: "help, help!" as if he had not strength to continue the cry, he threw his hands up, and his head back gasping. the princess irene covered her eyes. sergius stepped over the balustrade; but before he could get further, a number of men were on the stage making to the rescue. and seeing them come, the hamari laid one hand on the strap, and with the other caught the tongue protruding from joqard's open jaws; as a further point in the offensive so suddenly resumed, he planted a foot heavily on one of his antagonist's. immediately the son of the proud caucasian dam was flat on the boards simulating death. then everybody understood the play, and the merriment was heightened by the speech the hamari found opportunity to make his rescuers before they could recover from their astonishment and break up the tableau they formed. the princess, laughing through her tears, flung the victor some gold pieces, and lael tossed her fan to him. the prostrations with which he acknowledged the favors were marvels to behold. by and by, quiet being restored, joqard was roused from his trance, and the hamari, calling the musicians to strike up, concluded the performance with a dance. saragossa _when the other events of the spanish war shall be lost in the obscurity of time, or only traced by disconnected fragments, the story of zaragoza, like some ancient triumphal pillar standing amidst ruins, will tell a tale of past glory, and already men point to the heroic city and call her spain._ napier's "_peninsular war_" saragossa a story of spanish valor authorized translation from the original of b. pÉrez galdÓs by minna caroline smith boston little, brown, and company _copyright, _, by little, brown, and company _all rights reserved_ university press john wilson and son, cambridge, u.s.a. translator's introduction "saragossa" is the sixth volume in the brilliant series of historical novels by b. pérez galdós, which begins with "trafalgar" and closes with "the battle of the arapiles," embracing "the court of carlos iv," "gerona," and "napoleon in chamartin." b. pérez galdós, possibly known best in the united states as the author of "doña perfecta," may be called the walter scott of spain. he is, however, truer to history than scott, and the characters he creates move in an atmosphere of reality rather than romance. "saragossa" is one of the most powerful, impressive, and popular of the twenty novels wherein he tells the gallant story of his native land. this tale of the second siege of the ancient aragon city by the generals of napoleon is a work of art, one that stirs the blood with admiration of the indomitable valor of the spaniards; yet is it not also a document of special pleading for the world's peace? "saragossa" ranks with tolstoi's "war and peace," and zola's "la débâcle," among great dramatic war novels. herein also are at least three of the best drawn characters in international literature,--the masterly miser candiola, his beautiful daughter mariquilla, and that valiant and lovable citizen, don josé de montoria. manuela sancho appears as a minor character, the "maid of saragossa" whose bravery is honored in a street named for her in her native city. she is a type of the daughters of saragossa, for more than one of them, in the exaltation of the terrific struggle against the french, extended their patriotic services beyond those gentle ones usual to women in besieged cities, rallying soldiers and serving guns. the events leading up to the siege of saragossa are a part of the history of spain in her struggle for continued national existence against the encroachments of napoleon. although it was national warfare, each province and strong provincial city made its own individual stand. therefore words like those quoted on a preceding page from napier's "peninsular war" have an especial significance. the english general's words are doubly striking when read in connection with these of galdós, "men of little sense--without any on occasion--the spanish to-day, as ever, make a thousand blunders, stumbling and rising in the struggle of their inborn vices with the eminent qualities which they still preserve. providence holds in store for this people great advancings and abasements, great terrors and surprises, apparent deaths and mighty resurrections." the threatened loss of her nationality was the terror which hung above spain in the dark days of . her court was rent with factions; her royal house was divided against itself. three parties had made dissension in the palace and among the people. one was the party of the king carlos iv; one was that of his son, prince ferdinand; the third, of a most insidious power, was that of don manuel godoy, whose ambitions and pretensions were supported by the queen. a corrupt court and an intriguing priesthood had promoted the troubles of spain, causing king, prince, and favorite, each and separately, to make application to napoleon for protection, and for the support of their various plans. the imbecility of the spanish bourbons at such an hour in european history was inevitable in its influence upon the emperor of the french. his ambition grew with this new opportunity. under the mask of operating with spain against portugal, napoleon filled the peninsula with french troops under generals like junot and moncey and lannes. the spanish king and prince were already in france, and practically in durance there, before the people realized the danger which was close upon their very existence as a nation. popular insurrections at toledo and madrid followed immediately upon the appointment of murat to a place in the government. the abdication at bayonne of carlos iv in favor of napoleon, and the appointment of joseph bonaparte as king of spain, with the consent of ninety-one spanish nobles, roused the peninsula into a spontaneous and determined revolt. war against the french invaders was already raging in every province when king joseph was crowned at madrid on july . thus in the virtue of her people began the long struggle of spain for independence as a nation,--a struggle which was destined not to end until england came to her aid, and the duke of wellington delivered her from the power of france. saragossa, although situated in an admirably strong strategic position between the french border and the spanish capital, was not occupied by the french in force at first, because the character of the saragossans made it unwise to attempt to place a small body of foreign troops among them, and saragossa--zaragoza in spanish--had no citadel. napoleon himself could not foresee what a tremendous defence would be made, nor that fifty thousand dead would yet speak from this city of aragon to arouse the courage of spain. the first siege lasted from mid-june to mid-august, and was raised not only because the defence was fierce, desperate, and unflinchingly prolonged, and because the besieging army under verdier was greatly weakened, but also because disasters to the french arms elsewhere made its abandonment imperative. after the invaders had been victorious at tudela, aragon was open to them. forty thousand french troops--general napier says thirty-five thousand--besieged the capital of the province whither a large part of the army of castaños and many other fugitives had fled after their defeat. the second and successful siege, with whose events this novel is occupied, continued for two long and fatal months, from the twentieth of december of that same dark year until the twenty-first of the following february. during this time of horror and of bravery, there were also laughter and song, dancing and love-making in saragossa, and such an idyl of tenderness and passion as this story of augustine and mariquilla which is now offered to readers of english. m. c. s. saragossa a story of spanish valor chapter i it was, i believe, the evening of the eighteenth when we saw saragossa in the distance. as we entered by the puerta de sancho we heard the clock in the torre nueva strike ten. we were in an extremely pitiful condition as to food and clothing. the long journey we had made from lerma through salas de los infantes, cervera, agreda, tarazona, and borja, climbing mountains, fording rivers, making short cuts until we arrived at the high road of gallur and alagon, had left us quite used up, worn out, and ill with fatigue. in spite of all, the joy of being free sweetened our pain. we were four who had succeeded in escaping between lerma and cogollos by freeing our innocent hands from the rope that bound together so many patriots. on the day of the escape, we could count among the four of us a total capital of eleven reales; but after three days of marching, when we entered the metropolis of aragon and balanced our mutual cash, our common wealth was found to be a sum total of thirty-one cuartos. we bought some bread at a little place next the orphanage, and divided it among us. don roque, who was one of the members of our expedition, had good connections in saragossa, but this was not an hour to present ourselves to any one. we postponed until the next day this matter of looking up friends; and as we could not go to an inn, we wandered about the city, looking for a shelter where we could pass the night. the market scarcely seemed to offer exactly the comfort and quiet which our tired bodies needed. we visited the leaning tower, and although one of my companions suggested that we should take refuge in the plaza, i thought that we should be quite the same as if altogether in the open country. the place served us, none the less, for temporary refuge and rest, and also as a refectory, where we despatched happily our supper of dry bread, glancing now and then at the great upright mass of the tower, whose inclination made it seem like a giant leaning to see who was running about his feet. by the light of the moon that brick sentinel projected against the sky its huddled and shapeless form, unable to hold itself erect. the clouds were drifting across its top, and the spectator looking from below trembled with dread, imagining that the clouds were quiet and that the tower was moving down upon him. this grotesque structure, under whose feet the overburdened soil has settled, seems to be forever falling, yet never falls. we passed through the avenue of the coso again from this house of giants as far as the seminary. we went through two streets, the calle quemada and the calle del rincon, both in ruins, as far as the little plaza of san miguel. from here, passing from alley to alley, and blindly crossing narrow and irregular streets, we found ourselves beside the ruins of the monastery of santa engracia, which was blown up by the french at the raising of the first siege. the four of us exclaimed at once in a way to show that we all thought the same thing. here we had found a shelter, and in some cosy corner under this roof we would pass the night! the front wall was still standing with its arch of marble, decorated with innumerable figures of saints which seemed undisturbed and tranquil as if they knew nothing of the catastrophe. in the interior we saw broken arches and enormous columns struggling erect from the debris, presenting themselves, darkling and deformed, against the clear light flooding the enclosure, looking like fantastic creatures generated by a delirious imagination. we could see decorations, cornices, spaces, labyrinths, caverns, and a thousand other fanciful architectural designs produced by the ruins in their falling. there were even small rooms opened in the spaces of the walls with an art like that of nature in forming grottos. the fragments of the altar-piece that had rotted because of the humidity showed through the remains of the vaulting where still hung the chains which had suspended the lamps. early grasses grew between the cracks of the wood and stone. among all this destruction there were certain things wholly intact, as some of the pipes of the organ and the grating of the confessional. the roof was one with the floor, and the tower mingled its fragments with those of the tombs below. when we looked upon such a conglomeration of tombs, such a myriad of fragments that had fallen without losing entirely their original form, and such masses of bricks and plaster crumbled like things made of sugar, we could almost believe that the ruins of the building had not yet settled into their final position. the shapeless structure appeared to be palpitating yet from the shock of the explosion. don roque told us that beneath this church there was another one where they worshipped the relics of the holy martyrs of saragossa; but the entrance to this subterranean sanctuary was closed up. profound silence reigned, but, penetrating further, we heard human voices proceeding from those mysterious deeps. the first impression produced upon us by hearing these voices was as if the spirits of the famous chroniclers who wrote of the christian martyrs, and of the patriots sleeping in dust below, were crying out upon us for disturbing their slumbers. on the instant, in the glare of a flame which illuminated part of the scene, we distinguished a group of persons sheltering themselves, huddling together in a space between two of the fallen columns. they were saragossa beggars, who had made a palatial shelter for themselves in that place, seeking protection from the rain with beams of wood and with their rags. we also made ourselves as comfortable as might be in another place, and covering ourselves with a blanket and a half, prepared to go to sleep. don roque said to me, "i know don josé de montoria, one of the richest citizens of saragossa. we were both born in mequinenza. we went to school together, and we played our games together on the hills of corregidor. it is thirty years since i have seen him, but i believe that he will receive us well. like every good aragonese, he is all heart. we will find him, fellows; we will see don josé de montoria. i am of his blood on the maternal side. we will present ourselves to him. we will say--" but don roque was asleep, and i also slept. chapter ii the place where we lay down did not by any blandishments invite us to sleep luxuriously until morning, and certainly a mattress of broken stones is conducive to early rising. we wakened with the dawn; and as we had to spend no time in making a toilet before a dressing-table, we were soon ready to go out and pay our visits. the idea came to all four of us at once that it would be a good thing to have some breakfast, but at the same time we agreed unanimously that it was impossible, as we had not the wherewithal to carry out such a high purpose. "don't be discouraged, boys," said don roque; "because very soon i will take you all to the house of my friend, who will take good care of us." while he was saying this, we saw emerging from our inn two men and a woman, of those who had been our companions there. they looked as if they were accustomed to sleep in the place. one of them was a cripple, a poor unfortunate who ended at his knees, and put himself in motion by the aid of crutches, swinging himself forward on them as if by oars. he was an old man, with a jovial face well burned by the sun. as he saluted us very pleasantly in passing, wishing us a good-morning, don roque asked him in what part of the city was the house of don josé de montoria. the cripple replied:-- "don josé de montoria? i know him as if he were the apple of my eye. it is twenty years since he used to live in the calle de la albarderia. afterwards he moved to another street, the calle de la parra, then,--but you are strangers, i see." "yes, my good friend, we are strangers; and we have come to enlist with the troops of this brave city." "then you were not here on the fourth of august?" "no, my friend," i answered him; "we were not present at that great feat of arms." "you did not see the battle of eras?" asked the beggar, sitting down in front of us. "we did not have that felicity either." "well, don josé montoria was there. he was one of those who pulled the cannon into place for firing. well, well, i see that you haven't seen a thing. from what part of the world do you come?" "from madrid," said don roque. "so you are not able to tell me where my dear friend don josé lives?" "well, i should think i can, man, well, i should think i can!" answered the cripple, taking from his pocket a crust of dry bread for his breakfast. "from the calle de la parra he moved to the calle de enmedio. you know that all those houses were blown up. there was stephen lopez, a soldier of the tenth company of the first regiment of aragon volunteers, and he alone, with forty men, himself forced the french to retire." "that must have been a fine thing to see!" said don roque. "oh, if you did not see the fourth of august you have seen nothing," continued the beggar. "i myself also saw the fourth of june, because i was crawling along the calle de la paja, and i saw the woman who fired off the big cannon." "we have already heard of the heroism of that noble woman," said don roque; "but if you could make up your mind to tell us--" "oh, of course. don josé de montoria is a great friend of the merchant don andrés guspide, who on the fourth of august was firing from near the narrow street of the torre del pino. hand-grenades and bullets were raining all about him, and my don andrés stood like a rock. more than a hundred dead lay about him, and he alone killed fifty of the french." "great man, this one! and he is a friend of my friend?" "yes, señor," replied the cripple; "and they are two of the best gentlemen in all saragossa, and they give me a little something every saturday. for you must know that i am pepe pallejas, and they call me sursum corda, as twenty-four years ago i was sacristan of the church of jesus, and i used to sing----but this is not coming to the point, and i was going on to say i am sursum corda, and perhaps you have heard about me in madrid?" "yes," said don roque, yielding to his generous impulses; "it seems to me that i have heard the señor sursum corda mentioned there, haven't we, boys?" "well, it's likely, and you must know that before the siege i used to beg at the door of this monastery of santa engracia, which was blown up by the bandits on the thirteenth of august. i beg now at the puerta de jerusalem, at the jerusalem gate--where you will be able to find me whenever you like. well, as i was saying, on the fourth of august i was here, and i saw francisco quilez come out of the church, first sergeant of the first company of fusileers, who, you must already know, with thirty-five men, cast out the bandits from the convent of the incarnation. i see that you look surprised--yes! well, in the orchard of the convent at the back is where the lieutenant don miguel gila died. there are at the least two hundred bodies in that orchard; and there don felipe san clement, a merchant of saragossa, broke both his legs. indeed, if don miguel salamero had not been present--don't you know anything about that?" "no, sir, my friend," said don roque; "we don't know anything about it, and although we have the greatest pleasure in your telling us of so many wonders, what most concerns us now is to find out where we are going to find my old friend don josé. we four are suffering from a disease called hunger, which cannot be cured by listening to the recounting of sublimities." "well, now, in a minute i will take you where you want to go," replied sursum corda, offering us a part of his crust; "but first i will tell you something, and that is that if don mariano cereso had not defended the castle aljaferia as he did defend it, nothing would have been done in the portillo quarter. and this man, by the grace of god, this man was don mariano cereso! during the attack of the fourth of august, he used to walk in the streets with his sword in its antique sheath. it would terrify you to see him! this santa engracia quarter seemed like a furnace, señors. the bombs and the hand-grenades rained down; but the patriots did not mind them any more than so many drops of water. a good part of the convent fell down; the houses trembled, and all this that we see seemed no more than a barrier of playing cards, by the way it caught fire and crumbled away. fire in the windows, fire at the top, fire at the base! the french fell like flies, fell like flies, gentlemen. and as for the saragossans, life and death were all the same to them. don antonio quadros went through there, and when he looked at the french batteries, he was in a state to swallow them whole. the bandits had sixty cannon vomiting fire against the walls. you did not see it? well, i saw it, and the pieces of brick of the wall and the earth of the parapets scattered like crumbs of a loaf. but the dead served as a barricade,--the dead on top, the dead below, a perfect mountain of the dead. don antonio's eyes shot flame. the boys fired without stopping. their souls were all made of bullets! didn't you see it? well, i did, and the french batteries were all cleaned out of gunners. when he saw one of the enemy's cannon was without men, the commander shouted, 'an epaulet to the man who spikes that cannon!' pepillo ruiz started and walked up to it as if he was promenading in a garden among butterflies and may flowers, only here the butterflies were bullets, and the flowers were bombs. pepillo ruiz spiked the cannon, and came back laughing. and now another part of the convent was falling down. whoever was smashed by it, remained smashed! don antonio quadros said that that did not bother him any, and seeing that the enemy's batteries had opened a large hole in the wall, went to stuff it full of bags of wool. then a bullet struck him in the head. they brought him here; he said that was nothing either, and died." "oh," said don roque, impatiently, "we are sufficiently astonished, señor sursum corda, and the most pure patriotism inflames us to hear you relate such great deeds; but if you could only make up your mind to tell us where--" "good lord!" exclaimed the beggar, "who said i wouldn't tell you? if there is any one thing i know better than another, and have seen most of anything in my life, it is the house of don josé de montoria. it is near the san pablo. oh, you did not see the hospital? well, i saw it. there the bombs fell like hail; the sick, seeing that the roofs were falling down, threw themselves from the windows into the street. others crawled or rolled down the stairs. the partitions burned, and you could hear wailings. the lunatics bellowed in their cages like mad beasts. many of them escaped and went through the cloisters, laughing and dancing with a thousand fantastic gestures that were frightful to see. they came out into the street as on carnival day; and one climbed the cross in the coso, where he began a harangue, saying that he was the river ebro, and he would run over the city and put out the fire. the women ran to care for the sick, who were all carried off to del pilar and to la seo. you could not get through the streets. signals were given from the torre nueva whenever a bomb was coming, but the uproar of the people prevented their hearing the bells. the french advanced by this street of santa engracia. they took possession of the hospital and of the convent of san francisco. the fighting began in the quarter of the coso, and in the streets thereabouts. don santiago sas, don mariano cereso, don lorenzo calvo, don marcos simono, renovales, martin albantos, vicente codé, don vicente marraco, and others fearlessly attacked the french. and behind a barricade made by herself, awaited them, furious, gun in hand, the countess de bureta." "what a woman, a countess, making barricades and firing guns!" cried don roque, enthusiastically. "you did not know it?" he returned. "well, where do you live? the señora maria consolacion azlor y villavicencio, who lives near the ecce homo, also walked through the streets, saying words of good cheer to those who were discouraged. afterwards she made them close the entrance to the street, and herself took the lead of a party of peasants, crying, 'here we will all die before we will let them pass!'" "oh, what sublime heroism!" exclaimed don roque, yawning with hunger. "how much i should enjoy hearing those tales of heroism told on a full stomach! so you say that the house of don josé is to be found--" "it is just around there," said the cripple. "you know already that the french had entangled themselves and stuck fast near the arch of cineja. holy virgin del pilar, but that was where they killed off the french! the rest of the day was nothing beside it. in the calle de la parra and the square of estrevedes, in the calles de los urreas, santa fe, and del azoque, the peasants cut the french to pieces. the cannonading and the roar of that day still ring in my ears. the french burned down the houses that they could not defend, and the saragossans did the same. there was firing on every side. men, women, and children,--it was enough to have two hands to fight against the enemy. and you did not see it? you really have seen nothing at all! well, as i was saying, palafox came out of saragossa towards--" "that's enough, my friend," said don roque, losing patience. "we are charmed with your conversation; but if you can take us this instant to the house of my friend, or direct us so that we can find it, we will go along." "in a minute, gentlemen. don't hurry," replied sursum corda, starting off in advance with all the agility of which his crutches were capable. "let us go there. let us go, with all my heart. do you see this house? well, here lives antonio laste, first sergeant of the fourth company of regulars, and you must know he saved from the treasury sixteen thousand, four hundred pesos, and took from the french the candles that they stole from the church." "go on ahead, go on, friend," i said, seeing that this indefatigable talker intended stopping to give all the details of the heroism of antonio laste. "we shall arrive soon," replied sursum; "on the morning of the first of july i was going past here, when i encountered hilario lafuente, first corporal of fusileers of the parish of sas, and he said to me, 'to-day they are going to attack the portillo;' then i went to see what there was to see and--" "we know all about this, already," said don roque. "let us go on fast. we can talk afterwards." "this house which you see here burned down and in ruins," continued the cripple, going around a corner, "is the one that burned on the fourth, when don francisco ipas, sub-lieutenant of the second company of fusileers of the parish of san pablo, stood here with a cannon, and these--" "we know the rest, my good man," said don roque. "forward, march! and the faster the better." "but much better was what codé did, the farmer of the parish of la magdalena, with the cannon of the calle de la parra," persisted the beggar, stopping once more. "when he was going to fire the gun, the french surrounded him, everybody ran away; but codé got under the cannon, and the french passed by without seeing him. afterwards, helped by an old woman who brought him some rope, he pulled that big piece of artillery as far as the entrance of the street. come, i will show you!" "no, no, we don't want to see a thing. go along ahead." we kept at him, and closed our ears to his tales with so much obstinacy, that at last, although very slowly, he took us through the coso and the market to the calle de la hilarza, the street wherein stood the house of the person whom we were seeking. chapter iii but, alas! don josé de montoria was not in his house, and we found it necessary to go a little way out of the city to look for him. two of my companions, tired of so much going and coming, left us with the idea of trying on their own account for some military or civil situation. don roque and myself therefore started with less embarrassment on our trip to the country house, the "torre," of our friend. (they call country houses torres at saragossa.) this was situated to the westward of the town; the place bordered on the muela road, and was at a short distance from the bernardona road. such a long tramp was not at all the right thing for our tired bodies, but necessity obliged us to take this inopportune exercise. we were very well treated when we at last met the longed-for saragossan and became the objects of his cordial hospitality. montoria was occupied, when we arrived, in cutting down olive-trees on his place, a proceeding demanded by the military exigencies of the plan of defence established by the officers in the field, because of the possibility of a second siege. and it was not our friend alone who destroyed with his own hands this heritage of his hacienda. all the proprietors of the surrounding places occupied themselves with the same task, and they directed the work of devastation with as much coolness as if they were watering or replanting, or busy with the grape harvest. montoria said to us, "in the first siege i cut down my trees on my property on the other side of the huerva; but this second siege that is being prepared for us is going to be much more terrible, to judge by the great number of troops that the french are sending." we told him the story of the surrender of madrid, and as this seemed to depress him very much, we praised the deeds done at saragossa between the fifteenth of june and the fourteenth of august with all sorts of grandiloquent phrases. shrugging his shoulders, don josé said, "all that was possible to be done was done." at this point don roque began to make personal eulogies of me, both military and civil, and he overdrew the picture so much that he made me blush, particularly as some of his announcements were stupendous lies. he said, first, that i belonged to one of the highest families of lower andalusia, and that i was present as one of the marine guards at the glorious battle of trafalgar. he said that the junta had made me a great offer of a concession in peru, and that during the siege of madrid i had performed prodigies of valor at the puerta de los pozos, my courage being so great that the french found it convenient after the capitulation to rid themselves of such a fearful foe, sending me with other spanish patriots to france. he added that my ingenuity had made possible the escape of us four companions who had taken refuge in saragossa, and ended his panegyric by assuring don josé that for my personal qualities also i deserved distinguished consideration. meantime montoria surveyed me from head to foot, and if he observed the bad cut of my clothes and their many rents, he must also have seen that they were of the kind used by a man of quality, revealing his fine, courtly, and aristocratic origin by the multiplicity of their imperfections. after he had looked me over, he said to me, "porra! i shall not be able to enlist you in the third rank of the company of fusileers of don santiago sas, of which i am captain, but you can enter the corps where my son is; and if you don't wish to, you must leave saragossa, because here we have no use for lazy men. and as for you, don roque, my friend, since you are not able to carry a gun, porra! we will make you one of the attendants in the army hospital." when don roque had heard all this, he managed to express, by means of rhetorical circumlocution and graceful ellipses, the great necessity of a piece of meat for each one of us, and a couple of loaves of bread apiece. then we saw the great montoria scowl, looking at us so severely that he made us tremble, fearing that we were to be sent away for daring to ask for something to eat. we murmured timid excuses, and then our protector, very red in the face, spoke as follows,-- "is it possible that you are hungry? porra! go to the devil with a hundred thousand porras! why haven't you said so before? do i look like a man capable of letting my friends go hungry? porra! you must know that i always have a dozen hams hanging from the beams of my storeroom, and i have twenty casks of rioja, yes, sir. and you are hungry, and you did not tell me so to my face without any round-about fuss? that is an offence to a man like me. there, boys, go in and order them to cook four pounds of beef and six dozen eggs, and to kill six pullets, and bring from the wine-cellar seven jugs of wine. i want my breakfast, too. let the neighbors come, the workmen, and my sons too, if they are anywhere about. and you, gentlemen, be prepared to punish it all with my compliments, porra! you will eat what there is without thanking me. we do not use compliments here. you, señor don roque, and you, señor don araceli, are in your own house to-day, porra! to-morrow and always, porra! don josé de montoria is a true friend to his friends. all that he has, all that he owns, belongs to his friends." the brusque hospitality of the worthy man astonished us. as he did not receive our compliments with good grace, we decided to leave aside the artificial formalities of the court, and, assuredly, the most primitive fashions reigned during the breakfast. "why don't you eat more?" don josé asked me. "it seems to me that you are one of these compliment-makers who expect to live on compliments. i don't like that sort of thing, my young gentleman. i find it very trying, and i am going to beat you with a stick to make you eat. there, despatch this glass of wine! did you find any better at court? not by a long way. come now, drink, porra! or we shall come to blows." all this made me eat and drink more than was good for me; but it was necessary to respond to the generous cordiality of montoria, and too it was not worth while to lose his good will for one indigestion more or less. after the breakfast, the work of cutting down trees was continued, and the rich farmer directed it as if it were a festival performance. "we will see," he said, "if this time they will dare to attack the castle. have you not seen the works that we have built? they will find it a very complicated task to take them. i have just given two hundred bales of wool, a mere nothing, and i would give my last crust." when we returned to the town, montoria took us to look over the defensive works that were built in the western part of the city. there was in the portillo gate a large semi-circular battery that joined the walls of the convent de los fecetas with those of the augustine friars' convent. from this building to the convent of the trinitarios extended a straight wall, with battlements along all its length and with a good pathway in the centre. this was protected by a deep moat that reached to the famous field of las eras, scene of the heroic deeds of the fifteenth of june. further north, towards the puerta sancho, which protected the breastworks of the ebro, the fortifications continued, terminated by a tower. all these works, constructed in haste, though intelligently, were not distinguished by their solidity. any one of the enemy's generals, ignorant of the events of the first siege, and of the immense moral force of the saragossans, would have laughed at those piles of earth as fortifications offering material for an easy siege. but god ordains that somebody must escape once in a while the physical laws that rule war. saragossa, compared with amberes, dantzig, metz, sebastopol, cartagena, gibraltar, and other famous strongholds, was like a fortress made of cardboard. and yet--! chapter iv before we left his house, montoria became vexed at don roque and me because we would not take the money that he offered us for our first expenses in the city; then were repeated the blows on the table, and the rains of "porras" and other words that i will not repeat. but at last we arrived at an arrangement honorable for both parties. and now i begin to think i am saying too much about this singular man before i describe his personality. don josé was a man of about sixty years of age, strong, high-colored, of over-flowing health, well placed in the world, contented with himself, fulfilling his destiny with a quiet conscience. his was an excess of patriotic virtues and of exemplary customs, if there can be an excess of such things. he was lacking in education, that is to say, in the finer and more distinguished training which in that time some of the sons of such families as his were beginning to receive. don josé was not acquainted with the superficialities of etiquette, and by character and custom was opposed to the amenities and the white lies which are a part of the foundations of courtesy. as he always wore his heart upon his sleeve, he wished everybody to do the same, and his savage goodness tolerated none of the frequent evasions of polite conversation. in angry moments he was impetuous, and let himself be carried to violent extremes, of which he always repented later. he never dissimulated, and had the great christian virtues in a crude form and without polish, like a massive piece of the most beautiful marble where the chisel has traced no lines. it was necessary to know him to understand him, making allowances for his eccentricities, although to be sure he should scarcely be called eccentric, when he was so much like the majority of the men of his province. his aim was never to hide what he felt; and if this occasionally caused him some trouble in the course of life in regard to questions of little moment, it was a quality which always proved an inestimable treasure in any grave matter, because, with his soul wholly on view, it was impossible to suspect any malice or any double dealing whatever. he readily pardoned offenders, obliged those who sought favors, and gave a large part of his numerous goods to those in need. he dressed neatly, ate abundantly, fasted with much scrupulousness during lent, and loved the virgin del pilar with a fanatical sort of family affection. his language was not, as we have shown, a model of elegance, and he himself confessed, as the greatest of his defects, the habit of saying porra every minute, and again, porra! without the slightest necessity. but more than once i heard him say, knowing his fault, he had not been able to correct it, for the porras came out of his mouth without his knowing it. don josé had a wife and three children. she was doña leocadia sarriera, by birth a navarraise. the eldest son and the daughter were married, and had given grandchildren to the old man. the younger son was called augustine, and was destined for the church, like his uncle of the same name, the archdeacon of la seo. i made the acquaintance of all these on the same day, and found them the best people in the world. i was treated with so much kindness that i was overwhelmed by their generosity. if they had known me since my birth, they could not have been more cordial. their kindness, springing spontaneously from their generous hearts, touched my very soul; and as i have always had a faculty for letting people love me, i responded from the first with a very sincere affection. "señor don roque," i said that night to my friend as we were going to bed in the room which was given us, "i have never seen people like these. is everybody in aragon like this?" "there are all kinds," he answered; "but men made of stuff like don josé and his family are plentiful in this land of aragon." next day we occupied ourselves with my enlistment. the spirit of the men who were enlisting filled me with such enthusiasm that nothing seemed to me so noble as to follow glory, even afar off. everybody knows that in those days saragossa and the saragossans had obtained a fabulous renown, that their heroism stimulated the imagination. everything referring to the famous siege of the immortal city partook on the lips of narrators of the proportions and colors of the heroic age. with distance, the actions of the saragossans acquired great dimensions. in england and germany, where they were considered the numantines of modern times, those half-naked peasants, with rope sandals on their feet and the bright saragossan kerchief on their heads, became like figures of mythology. "surrender, and we will give you clothes," said the french in the first siege, admiring the constancy of a few poor countrymen dressed in rags. "_we do not know how to surrender_," they made answer; "_and our bodies shall be clothed with glory_." the fame of this and other phrases has gone round the world. but let us go back to my enlistment. there was an obstacle in the way, palafox's manifesto of the thirteenth of december, in which he ordered the expulsion of all strangers within a period of twenty-four hours. this measure was taken on account of the numbers of people who made trouble, and stirred up discord and disorder; but just at the time of my arrival another order was given out, calling for all the scattered soldiers of the army of the centre which had been dispersed at tudela, and so i found a chance to enlist. although i did not belong to that army, i had taken a place in the defence of madrid and the battle of bailen. these were reasons which, with the help of my protector montoria, served me in entering the saragossan forces. they gave me a place in the battalion of volunteers of the peñas of san pedro, which had been badly weakened in the first siege, and i received a uniform and a gun. i did not enter the lines, as my protector had said, in the company of the clergyman of santiago sas, because this valiant company was composed exclusively of residents of the parish of san pablo. they did not want any young men in their battalion; for this reason augustine montoria himself, don josé's son, could not serve under the sas banner, and enlisted like myself in the battalion of las peñas de san pedro. good luck bestowed upon me a good companion and an excellent friend. from the day of my arrival i had heard talk of the approach of the french army; but it was not an incontrovertible fact until the twentieth. in the afternoon a division arrived at zuera, on the left bank of the river, to threaten the suburb; another, commanded by suchet, encamped on the right above san lamberto. marshal moncey, who was the general in command, placed himself, with three divisions, near the canal, and on both sides of the huerva. forty thousand men besieged us. it is known that the french, impatient to defeat us, began operations early on the twenty-first, attacking simultaneously and with great vigor monte torrero, and the arrabal, the suburb on the left of the ebro, points without whose possession it was impossible to dream of conquering the valiant city. but if we were obliged to abandon torrero on account of the danger of its defence, saragossa displayed in the suburb such audacious courage that that day is known as one of the most brilliant of all her brilliant history. from four o'clock, from day-dawn, the battalion of las peñas de san pedro guarded the front of the fortifications, from santa engracia to the convent of trinitarios, a line which seemed the least exposed in all the circuit of the city. behind santa engracia was established the battery of los martires; from there ran the battlements of the wall as far as the huerva bridge, defended by a barricade; it deflected afterwards towards the west, making an obtuse angle, and joining another redoubt built in the torre del pino; it continued in a straight line as far as the convent of trinitarios, and enclosed the puerta del carmen. whoever has seen saragossa can well understand my imperfect description, for the ruins of santa engracia still remain, and in the puerta del carmen may still be seen, not far from the glorieta, its ruined architrave and worm-eaten stones. we were, as i have said, occupying the position described, and part of the soldiers had a bivouac in a neighboring orchard, next to the carmen college. augustine montoria and i were inseparable. his serene character, the affection he showed me from the moment we met, and the inexplicable concord in our thoughts, made his company very agreeable. he was a young man of beautiful figure, with large brilliant eyes and open brow, and an expression marked by a melancholy gravity. his heart, like that of his father, was filled by generosity which overflowed at the least impulse; but he was not likely to wound the feelings of a friend, because education had taken from him a great deal of the national brusqueness. augustine entered manhood's estate with the security of a kind heart, firm and uncorrupted judgment, with a vigorous and healthy soul; the wide world only was the limit of his boundless goodness. these qualities were enriched by a brilliant imagination of sure and direct action, not like that of our modern geniuses, who most of the time do not know what they are about. augustine's imagination was lofty and serene, worthy of his education in the great classics. although with a lively inclination to poetry,--for augustine was a poet,--he had learned theology, showing ability in this as in everything. the fathers at the seminary, who were fond of the youth, looked upon him as a prodigy in the sciences, human and divine, and they congratulated themselves on seeing him with one foot at least over the threshold of the church. the montoria family had many a pleasant anticipation of the day when augustine would say his first mass, as a holy event that was fast approaching. yet,--i am obliged to say it,--augustine had no vocation for the church. neither his family nor the good fathers of the seminary understood this, nor would they have understood it, even if the holy spirit had come down in person to tell them. this precocious theologian, this humanist who had horace at the ends of his fingers, this dialectician who in the weekly discussions astonished the fathers with intellectual gymnastics of scholastic science, had no more vocation for the church than mozart for war, raphael for mathematics, or napoleon for dancing! chapter v "gabriel," he said to me one morning, "dost thou not feel like smashing something?" "augustine, dost thou not feel like smashing something?" i responded. it will be seen that we were "thee-ing" and "thou-ing" each other after three days' acquaintance. "not very much," he said, "suppose the first ball strikes us dead!" "we shall die for our country, for saragossa; and although posterity will not remember us, it is always an honor to fall on the field of battle for a cause like this." "you are right," he answered sadly; "but it is a pity to die. we are young. who knows for what we are destined in life?" "life is a trifle, and its importance is not worth thinking of." "that is for the aged to say, but not us who are just beginning to live. frankly, i do not wish to die in this terrible circle which the french have drawn about us. in the other siege, however, all the students of the seminary took arms, and i confess that i was more valiant then than now. a peculiar zeal filled my blood, and i threw myself into places of greatest danger without fear of death. to-day does not find me the same. i am timid and afraid, and when a gun goes off, it makes me tremble." "that is natural. fear does not exist when one does not realize the danger. as far as that is concerned, they say the most valiant soldiers are the raw recruits." "there is nothing in that. indeed, gabriel, i confess that the mere question of dying does not strike me as the greatest evil. but if i die, i am going to entrust you with a commission which i hope you will fulfil carefully like a good friend. listen well to what i tell you. you see that tower that leans this way, as if to see what is passing here, or hear what we are saying?" "the torre nueva? i see it. what charge are you going to give me for that lady?" day was breaking, and between the irregular-tiled roofs of the city, between the spires and minarets, the balconies and the cupolas of the churches, the torre nueva, old and unfinished, stood out distinctly. "listen well!" said augustine. "if i am killed with the first shot on this day which is now dawning, when the battle is ended, and they break ranks, you must go there." "to the torre nueva? behold me! i arrive. i enter!" "no, man, not enter. listen, i will tell you. you arrive at the plaza de san felipe where the tower is. look yonder! do you see there near the great pile there is another tower, a little belfry? it seems like an acolyte before his lord the canon, which is the great tower." "yes, now i see the altar-boy. and if i am not mistaken, it is the belfry of san felipe. and the damned thing is ringing this minute!" "for mass, it is ringing for mass," said augustine, with great emotion. "do you not hear the cracked bell?" "very plainly. let us know what i have to say to this mr. altar-boy who is ringing the cracked bell." "no, no, it is nothing about him. you arrive at the plaza of san felipe. if you look at the belfry, you will see it is on a corner, and from this corner runs a narrow street. you enter there, and at the left you will find at a little distance another street, narrow and retired, called anton trillo. you follow this until you reach the back of the church. there you will see a house. you stop there--" "and then i come back again?" "no; close to the house there is a garden, with a little gateway painted the color of chocolate. you stop there." "there i stop, and there i am!" "no, old man. you will see--" "you're whiter than your shirt, my augustine. what do all these towers and stoppages signify?" "they mean," continued my friend, with increasing embarrassment, "that in a little while you will be there. i desire you to go by night. all right, you arrive there. you stop. you wait a little, then you pass to the opposite sidewalk. you stretch your neck, and you will see a window over the wall of a garden. you pick up a pebble and throw it against the panes of glass lightly, to do little damage." "and in a second she will come!" "no; have patience. how do you know whether she will come or not come?" "well, let us suppose that she comes." "before i tell you another thing, you must understand that it is there the goodman candiola lives. do you know who candiola is? well, he is a citizen of saragossa, a man who, as they say, has in his house a cellar full of money. he is avaricious and a usurer, and when he lends he guts his customers. he knows more about debtors, laws, and foreclosures than the whole court and council of castile. whoever goes to law with him is lost." "from all this, the house with a gate painted chocolate color should be a magnificent palace." "nothing of the sort. you will see a wretched-looking house that seems about to fall down. i tell you that that goodman candiola is a miser. he does not waste a real that he can help. and if you should see him about here you would give him alms. i will tell you another thing; he is never seen in saragossa, and they call him goodman candiola in mockery and contempt. his name is don jeronimo de candiola; he is a native of mallorca, if i am not mistaken." "and this candiola has a daughter?" "wait, man, how impatient you are! how do you know whether or not he has a daughter?" he answered, hiding his agitation by these evasions. "well, as i was just going to tell you, candiola is detested in the city for his great avarice and wicked heart. many poor men has he put in prison after ruining them. worse still, during the other siege he did not give a farthing for the war, nor take up arms, nor receive the wounded into his house, nor could they wring a peseta from him; and, as he said one day it was all one to him whether he gave to john or to peter, he was on the point of being arrested." "well, he is a pretty piece, this man of the house of the garden of the chocolate-colored gate! and what if when the pebble strikes the window, goodman candiola comes out with a cudgel and gives me a good beating for flirting with his daughter?" "don't be an idiot! hush! you must know that as soon as it gets dark, candiola shuts himself in an underground room, and there he stays counting his money until after midnight. bah! he is well occupied now. the neighbors say they hear a muffled sound as if bags of coins were being tumbled out." "very well. i arrive there. i throw the stone. she comes, and i tell her--" "you tell her that i am dead. no, don't be cruel; give her this amulet. no, tell her--no, it will be better to tell her nothing." "then i will give her the amulet?" "by no means. do not take the amulet to her." "now, now i understand. as soon as she comes i am to say good-night and march myself away singing, 'the virgin del pilar says--'" "no, it is enough that she learns of my death. you must do as i tell you." "but if you don't tell me anything." "how hasty you are! wait. perhaps they'll not kill me to-day." "true. and what a bother about nothing!" "there is one thing which i have left out, gabriel, and i shall tell it to you frankly. i have had many, very many great desires to confide to you this secret which weighs upon my breast. to whom could i tell it but to you, my friend? if i did not tell you, my heart would break like a pomegranate. i have been greatly afraid of telling it at night in my dreams. because of this fear i cannot sleep. if my father, my mother, my brother, suspected it, they would kill me." "and the fathers at the seminary?" "don't name the fathers. you shall see. i will tell you what has befallen me. do you know father rincon? well, father rincon loves me very much, and every evening he used to make me come out for a walk by the river or towards torrero or the juslibol road. we would talk of theology and literature. rincon is so enthusiastic about the great poet horace that he used to say, 'it is a pity that that man wasn't a christian so that he could be canonized.' he always carries with him a little elzevir, which he loves more than the apple of his eye. when we were tired walking, he would sit down and read, and between the two of us we would make whatever comments occurred to us. well, now i will tell you that father rincon was a kinsman of doña maria rincon, the deceased wife of candiola, who has a little property in the monzalbarba road, with a wretched little country house, more like a hut than a house, but embowered in leafy trees, and with delightful views of the ebro. one afternoon, after we had been reading the _quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa_, my teacher desired to visit his relative. we went there; we entered the garden, and candiola was not there; but his daughter came to meet us, and rincon said to her, 'mariquilla, get some peaches for this young man, and get me a glass of you know what.'" "and is mariquilla nice?" "don't ask that. what if she is nice? you shall see. father rincon stroked his beard, and turning towards me said, 'augustine, confess that in your lifetime you have never seen a more perfect face than this one. look at those eyes of fire, that angel's mouth, and that bit of heaven for a brow.' i was trembling, and mariquilla laughed, her face all rosy red. then rincon continued, saying, 'to you, who are a future father of the church, an example, a young pattern, without other passion than that for books, this divinity may show herself. jove! admire here the admirable work of the supreme creator. observe the expression of that face, the sweetness of those glances, the grace of that smile, the freshness, the delicacy of that complexion, the fineness of that skin, and confess that if heaven is beautiful, flowers, mountains, light, all the creations of god are nothing beside woman, the most perfect and finished work of the immortal hand.' thus spoke my teacher, and i, mute and astonished, did not cease to contemplate that master work which was certainly better than the Æneid. i cannot tell you what i felt. imagine the ebro, that great river, which descends from its springs to give itself to the sea, all at once changing its channel and trying to run upward, returning to the asturias. the same thing took place in my spirit. i myself was astonished that all my ideas had been changed from their wonted course and turned backward, cutting i know not what new channels. i assure you i was astonished, and i am yet. looking at her without satisfying the longing of my soul or of my eyes, i said to myself, 'i love her in a wonderful way! how is it that until now i have never fallen in love?' i had never seen mariquilla until that moment." "and the peaches?" "mariquilla was as much disturbed before me as i before her. father rincon went to talk with the gardener about the encroachments that the french had made upon the property (that was soon after the first of september, a month after the raising of the first siege), and mariquilla and i remained alone. alone! my first impulse was to cut and run; and she, as she has told me, also felt the same. neither she nor i ran. we stayed there. all at once i felt an extraordinary movement of my intellect. breaking the silence, i began to talk with her. we talked about all sorts of indifferent things at first, but to me came thoughts beyond my usual understanding, surpassing the ordinary, and all, all, all, i uttered. mariquilla answered me little, but her eyes were only more eloquent than when i was talking to her. at last father rincon called, and we marched away. i took leave of her, and in a low voice said that we would soon meet again. we returned to saragossa. yes, the street, the trees, the ebro, the cupola of the pilar, the belfries of saragossa, the passers-by, the houses, the walls of the garden, the pavements, the sound of the wind, the dogs of the street, all seemed different to me, all, heaven and earth had been changed. my good teacher began to read again in horace, and i said that horace wasn't worth anything. he wished me to dine with him, and threatened me with the loss of his friendship. i praised virgil with enthusiasm, and repeated the celebrated lines-- "'_est mollis flamma medullas interea et tacitum vivit sub pectore vulnus._'" "this was about the first of september," said i, "and since then?" "from that day a new life began for me. it commenced with a burning disquiet that robbed me of sleep, making distasteful to me all that was not mariquilla. my own father's house was hateful to me; and wandering about the environs of saragossa without any companion, i sought peace for my spirit in solitude. i hated the college, all books and theology, and when october came, and they wished me to bind myself to live shut up in the holy house, i feigned illness in order to remain in my own. thanks to the war that has made us all soldiers, i have been able to live free, to go at all hours, day and night, and see and talk with her frequently. i go to her house, make the signal agreed upon; she descends, opens her grated window; we talk long hours. people pass by, but i am muffled in my cloak even up to the eyes. with this and the darkness of night, no one recognizes me. as far as that is concerned, the boys in the street ask one another, 'who is this admirer of the candiola?' the other night, fearing discovery, we stopped our talks at the grating. mariquilla came down, opened the garden gate, and i entered. no one could discover us, because don jeronimo, believing her to be in bed, retired to his room to count his money, and the old servant, the only one in the house, took us under her wing. alone in the garden we sat down upon some stone steps and watched the brightness of the moonlight through the boughs of a great black poplar. in that majestic silence our souls contemplated the divine, and we experienced a deep sentiment, beyond words to express. our felicity is so great that at times it is a living torment. if there are moments in which one might desire to be a hundred beings, there are also moments in which one might desire not to exist. we pass long hours there. the night before last we were there until daybreak. my teacher believed me to be with the guards, so i was not obliged to hasten. when morning first began to dawn, we separated. over the top of the wall of the garden appeared the roofs of the neighboring houses and the top of the torre nueva. pointing it out to me, mariquilla said, 'when that tower stands straight, then only shall i cease to love you.'" augustine said no more. a cannon-shot sounded from the side of mount torrero, and we both turned in that direction. chapter vi the french had assaulted with great vigor the fortified positions of the torrero. ten thousand men defended them, commanded by don philip saint march and by o'neill, both generals of great merit. the volunteers of bourbon, castile, campo segorbino, of alicante, and of soria, the sharp-shooters of fernando vii, the murcia regiment, and other bodies that i do not remember, answered the fire. from the redoubt of los martires we saw the beginning of the action, and the french columns which extended the length of the canal and flanked the torrero. the fire of the fusileers continued for some time, but the struggle could not be prolonged very long, for that point could not be held without the occupation and fortification of others close by, like buena vista, casa blanca, and the reservoir of the canal. but none the less our troops did not retire except slowly and in the best order, retreating by the puente de america, and carrying with them all the pieces of artillery except one, which had been dismantled by the enemy's fire. amidst it all we heard a great noise which resounded at a great distance, and as the fire had almost ceased, we supposed that there was another battle outside the town. "there is the brigadier don josé manso," said augustine to me, "with the swiss regiment of aragon, which don mariano walker commands, the volunteers of huesca, of whom don pedro villacampa is leader, the volunteers of catalonia, and other valiant corps. and here are we, hand in hand! along this side it appears to be about finished. the french will content themselves to-day with the conquest of torrero." "either i am greatly deceived," i replied, "or they are now going to attack san josé." we all looked at the spot indicated, an edifice of huge dimensions which arose at our left, separated from the puerta quemada by the valley of the huerva. "there is renovales," said augustine,--"the brave don mariano renovales, who distinguished himself so highly in the other siege, who now commands the troops of orihuela and of valencia." in our position we were all prepared for an energetic defence. in the redoubt del pilar, in the battery of los martires, in the tower of del pino, the same as in the trinitarios, the artillery stood guard with burning matches, and the infantry waited behind the parapets in positions that seemed to us quite secure, ready to fire if any columns should attempt to assault us. it was cold, and most of us were shivering. one might almost have believed that it was from fear; but no, it was cold, and anybody who had said the contrary would have lied. the movement which i had foreseen was not slow in taking place, and the convent of san josé was attacked by a strong column of french infantry. it was an attempt at an attack, or, rather, a surprise. to all appearances, the enemy had a poor memory, and in three months they had forgotten that surprises were impossible in saragossa. none the less they arrived within gunshot, and doubtless the graceless whelps believed that merely at sight of them our warriors would fall dead with fear. the poor men had just arrived from silesia, and did not know what manner of warfare there was in spain. and, furthermore, as they had gained the torrero with so little difficulty, they believed themselves in train to swallow the world. they were advancing thus, as i have said, and san josé was not making any demonstration. when they were nearly within gunshot of the loopholes and embrasures of that edifice, all at once these began vomiting such a terrible fire that my brave frenchmen took to their heels with the utmost precipitation. having had enough doubtless, they remained stretched out at full length; and upon seeing the outcome of their valor, those of us who were watching the onset from the battery of los martires broke out into exclamations, applause, cries, and huzzas. in this ferocious manner the soldier celebrates in battle the death of his fellow-creatures. he who instinctively feels compassion at the slaying of a rabbit on a hunt jumps for joy on seeing hundreds of robust men fall,--young, happy men who have never done harm to anybody. such was the attack upon san josé, a futile attempt quickly punished. by that time, the french should have understood that if torrero was abandoned, it was by calculation and not on account of weakness. alone, embarrassed, deserted, without external defences, without forces or forts, saragossa renewed again her earthworks, her defences of bricks, her bastions of mud heaped up the evening before to be again defended against the first soldiers, the first artillery, and the first engineers of the world. pomp and show of a nation, formidable machines, enormous quantities of power, scientific preparation of materials, force, and intelligence in their greatest splendor, the invaders bring to attack the fortified place which appears to be guarded by boys. it is indeed almost like this: all succumb, all is reduced to powder in front of those walls which might be kicked over. but behind this movable defensive material is the well-tempered steel of aragon souls, which cannot be broken or bent, nor cast into moulds, nor crushed, nor robbed of breath, and which surrounds the whole region like a barrier, indestructible by human means. the whole district about the torre nueva was resounding with clamors and alarms. when to this district comes such mournful sounds, the city is in danger and needs all her sons. what is it? what is passing? what will happen? "matters must be going badly back of the town," said augustine. meanwhile they attacked us yonder to occupy the attention of the crowd on this side of the river. the same thing was done in the first siege. "al arrabal, al arrabal!" was our cry. "to the suburb!" and while we were saying this, the french sent us some balls to show us that we must stay where we were. fortunately saragossa had enough people within her walls, and could readily assist and support all parts. my battalion abandoned the wall near santa engracia, and began to march towards the coso. we did not know where we were being conducted, but it is probable that they were taking us to the suburb. the streets were full of people. old men and women came out, impelled by curiosity, wishing to see at close quarters and near at hand the points of danger, since it was impossible for them to be placed in the same peril. the streets of san gil, san pedro, and la cuchilleria, which lead to the bridge, were almost impassable. a great multitude of women were passing through them, all walking in the direction of the pilar and la seo. the booming of the cannon excited rather than saddened the fervent people, and all were jostling one another to get nearest the front. in the plaza de la seo, i saw the cavalry which, with all these people, obstructed the bridge and obliged my battalion to look for an easier way to the other side. while we were passing before the porch of this sanctuary, we heard the sound of the prayers wherewith all the women of the city were imploring their holy patroness. the few men who wished to come into the temple were expelled by them. we went to the bank of the river near san juan de los panetas, and took up our place on a mound, awaiting orders. in front and on the other side of the river, the field of battle was divided. we saw at the end nearest us the grove of macanaz, over there and close to the bridge the little monastery of altabas, yonder that of san lazarus, and further on the monastery of jesus. behind this scene, reflected in the waters of the great river, could be seen a horrible fire. there was an interminable turmoil, a hoarse clamor of the voices of cannon and of human yells. dense clouds of smoke, renewed unceasingly, mounted confusedly to the heavens. all the breastworks of this position, which were constructed with bricks from neighboring brickyards, formed with the earth of the kilns a reddish mass. one might have believed that the ground had been mixed together with blood. the french held their front towards the barcelona road and the juslibol, where more kilns and gardens lie at the left of the second of those two ways. thence the twelfth had furiously attacked our intrenchments, making their way by the barcelona road, and challenging with impetuous intrepidity the cross-fires of san lazarus and that of the place called el marcelo. their courage lay in striking audacious blows upon the batteries, and their tenacity produced a veritable hecatomb. they fell in great numbers; the ranks were broken, and, being instantly filled by others, they repeated the attack. at times they almost reached the parapets, and a thousand individual contests increased the horror of the scene. they went in advance of their leaders, brandishing their cutlasses, like desperate men who had made it a question of honor to die before a heap of bricks, and in that frightful destruction which wrenched the life from hundreds of men every minute, they disappeared, flung down upon mother earth, soldiers and sergeants, ensigns, captains, and colonels. it was a veritable struggle between two peoples; and while the fires of the first siege were burning in our hearts, the french came on thirsting for vengeance with all the passion of offended manhood, worse even than the passion of the warrior. it was this untimely bloodthirstiness that lost them the day. they should have begun by demolishing our works with their artillery, observing the serenity which a siege demands, and not have engaged in those hand to hand combats before positions defended by a people like the one that they had met on the fifteenth of july, and the fourth of august. they ought to have repressed their feeling of contempt or scorn of the forces of the enemy,--a feeling that has always been the bad star of the french. it was the same in the war with spain, as in the recent conflict with prussia. they ought to have put into execution a calmly considered plan which would have produced in the besieged less of disgust than exaltation. it is certain that if they carried with them the thought of their immortal general who always conquered as much by his admirable logic as by his cannons, they would have employed in the siege of saragossa a little of the knowledge of the human heart, without which the pursuit of war, brutal war--it seems a lie!--is no more than cruel carnage. napoleon, with his extraordinary penetration, would have comprehended the saragossan character, and would have abstained from attacking the unprotected columns, whose boast was of individual personal valor. this is a quality at all times difficult and dangerous to encounter, but above all in the presence of nations who fight for an ideal and not for an idol. i will not go into further details of the dreadful battle of the twenty-first of december, the most glorious of the second siege of aragon. as i did not see it at close quarters, and can only give the story of what was told me, i am moved not to be prolix, because there are so many and such interesting adventures which i must narrate. this makes a certain restraint necessary in the description of these sanguinary encounters. it is enough now to know that the french believed when night came that it was time to desist from their purpose, and they retired, leaving the plain covered with bodies of the dead. it was a good moment to follow them with cavalry; but after a short discussion the generals, i am told, decided not to put themselves in peril in a sally which could only be dangerous. chapter vii night came, and when a part of our troops fell back upon the city, all of the people hastened to the suburb to look at the field of battle from near at hand, and to gladden their imaginations by going over, one by one, the scenes of heroism. the animation, the movement, the clatter of noise in that part of the city were immense. at one side were groups of soldiers singing with feverish joy, on the other bands of merciful people carrying the wounded into their houses. everywhere was hearty satisfaction, which showed itself in lively dialogues, question, joyous exclamations,--tears and laughter mingling with the rejoicings and enthusiasm. it was, possibly, about nine o'clock before my battalion broke ranks; because, lacking quarters, we did not permit ourselves to leave the position, although there was no danger. augustine and i ran to del pilar, where a great crowd was rushing. we entered with difficulty. i was surprised to see how some persons jostled and pushed others in order to approach the chapel of the virgin del pilar. the prayers, the entreaties, and the demonstrations of rejoicing, taken all together, did not seem like the prayers of any class of the faithful. the prayers were like talks mingled with tears, groans, the most tender words, and other phrases of intimate and ingenuous affection, such as the spanish people are wont to use with their saints that are most beloved. they fell upon their knees; they kissed the pavement; they grasped the iron gratings of the chapel; they addressed the holy image, calling it by names the most familiar and the most pathetic of the language. those who could not--because of the crowd of people--come near her were talking to her from afar off, waving their arms wildly about. there were no sacristans to stop these wild ways and seemingly irreverent noises, because they were themselves children of this overflowing delirious devotion. the solemn silence of sacred places was not observed. all there were as if in their own house, as if the house of their cherished virgin, their mother, their beloved, the queen of saragossans, were also the house of her children, her servants and subjects. astonished at such fervor which the familiarity made more interesting, i fought my way to the grating, and saw the celebrated image. who has not seen her, who does not know her, at least by the innumerable sculptures and portraits which have reproduced her endlessly from one end of the peninsula to the other? she was at the left of the little altar which is in the depth of the chapel in a niche adorned with oriental luxury, a little statue, then as now. a great profusion of wax candles illuminated her, and precious stones covered her clothing and crown, darting dazzling reflections. gold and diamonds gleamed in the circlet about her face, in the votive bracelets hung upon her breast, and in the rings on her hands. a living creature would have given way under so great a weight of treasure. her garments, falling without folds, stretched straight from head to feet, and left visible only her hands. the child jesus, sustained on her left side, revealed a bit of his brown little face between the brocade and the jewels. the face of the virgin, burnished by time, is also brown. a gentle serenity possesses her, symbol of her eternal blessedness. she looks outward, her sweet gaze scanning constantly the devoted concourse. there shines in her eyes a ray of the clearest light, and this artificial gleam seems like the intensity and fixedness of the human gaze. it was difficult when i saw her for the first time to remain indifferent in the midst of that religious demonstration, and not to add a word to the concert of enthusiastic tongues talking with distinct voices to the señora. i was watching the statue, when augustine pressed my arm, saying,-- "look, there she is!" "who, the virgin? i am looking at her now." "no, man, mariquilla! there, in front, close to the column." i looked, but i saw only a great many people. we immediately quitted our place, looking about for a way to get through the multitude to the other side. "she is not with candiola," said augustine, joyously. "she has come with the servant." and, saying this, he elbowed his way to one side and the other to make a road, punching backs and breasts, stepping on feet, matting down hats, and rumpling clothing. i followed behind him, causing equal destruction right and left. at last we came to the beautiful young girl, and it was really she, as i could see at once with my own eyes. the enthusiastic passion of my good friend did not deceive me. mariquilla was worth the trouble of being extravagantly, madly loved. her pale brunette skin, her deeply black eyes, her perfect nose, her incomparable mouth, and her beautiful low forehead attracted attention to her at once. there was in her face as in her body a certain light and delicate voluptuousness. when she lowered her eyes, it seemed to me as if a sweet and lovely mist surrounded her. she smiled gravely; and when she approached us, her looks revealed timidity. everything about her showed the reserved and circumspect passion of a woman of character, and she seemed to me little given to talking, lacking in coquetry, and poor in artifices. i afterwards had reason to confirm this, my early judgment. there shone in the face of mariquilla a heavenly calm, and a certain security in herself. different from most women, like few among them, that soul would not readily change, except for just and righteous reasons. other women of quick sensibility pour themselves out like wax before a small fire; but mariquilla was made of the best metal, yielding only to a great fire, and when that came she was of necessity like molten metal that burns when it touches. besides her beauty, the elegance and even luxury of her dress attracted my attention. having heard much of the avarice of candiola, i supposed that he would have reduced his daughter to the utmost extremes of wretchedness in matters of dress. it was not so. as montoria told me afterwards, the stingiest of the stingy not only permitted his daughter some expenses, but now and then made her some little present which he looked upon as the _ne plus ultra_ of mundane splendor. if candiola was capable of letting some of his relations die of hunger, to his daughter he gave a phenomenal, a scandalous amount of pocket-money. although he was a miser, he was a father; he loved his girl very much, finding in his generosity to her perhaps the only pleasure of his arid existence. somewhat more must be said in regard to this, but it will appear little by little in the course of the story. and now i must say that my friend had not yet spoken ten words to his adored mariquilla, when a man approached us abruptly, and after having looked at the two for an instant with flashing eyes, spoke to the young girl, taking her by the arm, and saying, with a show of anger,-- "what is going on here? and you, good guedita, what brought you to the pilar at such an hour? go to the house, go to the house immediately!" and pushing before him mistress and maid, he carried them both off towards the door and the street, and the three disappeared from our sight. it was candiola. i remember him well, and the remembrance makes me tremble with horror. further on you will know why. since the brief scene in the church del pilar, the image of that man has been engraven on my memory, and certainly his face was not one which would let itself be quickly forgotten. old, bent, of miserable and sickly aspect, crooked and disagreeable, lean of face, with sunken cheeks, candiola roused antipathy from the first moment. his nose, sharp and hooked like the beak of a bird, his chin, peaked also, the coarse hair of his grizzled eyebrows, the greenish eyes, the forehead furrowed as if by a ruler with deep parallel wrinkles, the cartilaginous ears, the yellowish skin, the metallic quality of the voice, the slovenly clothes, the insulting grimaces,--all his personality from head to foot, from his bag wig to the sole of his coarse shoe, produced at sight an unconquerable repulsion. it can readily be understood that he had not a single friend. candiola had no beard; his face, according to the fashion, was quite clean shaven, although the razor did not enter the field more than once a week. if don jeronimo had had a beard, it would have made him seem very much like a certain venetian shop-keeper whom i afterwards came to know very well, travelling in the great world of books, and in whom i find certain traits of physiognomy that recalled the man who had so brusquely presented himself to us in the temple del pilar. "did you see that miserable and ridiculous old man?" augustine asked me when we were alone, looking towards the door where the three people had disappeared. "he evidently doesn't like his daughter to have admirers." "but i am sure that he did not see me talking with her. he has suspicions, nothing more. if he should pass from suspicion to certitude, mariquilla and i would be lost. did you see that look he threw us, the damned miser?--he is black from his soul to his satanic hide." "bad sort of father-in-law to have." "bad enough," said montoria, sadly. "he would be dear in exchange for a spoonful of verdigris! i am sure he will abuse her to-night; but fortunately he is not in the habit of ill-treating her." "and would not the señor candiola be pleased to see her married to the son of don josé de montoria?" i asked. "are you mad? i see you talking to him of that! the wretched miser not only watches his daughter as if she were a bag of gold, and is not disposed to give her to anybody; but he has also an ancient and profound resentment against my father, because he freed some unhappy debtors from his fangs. i tell you, that if he discovers that his daughter loves me, he will keep her locked up in an iron chest in that cellar of his where he keeps his hard cash. i don't know what would happen if my father came to know of it. my flesh creeps just to think of it. the worst nightmare which disturbs my slumbers is that which shows me the moment when señor my father and señora my mother learn of my great love for mariquilla. a son of don josé de montoria enamoured of a daughter of candiola, a young man who is formally destined to be a bishop,--a bishop, gabriel! i am going to be a bishop, in the minds of my parents!" saying this, augustine dashed his head against the sacred wall on which we were leaning. "and do you think you will go on loving mariquilla?" "don't ask me that!" he replied with energy. "did you see her? if you saw her, how can you ask me if i will go on loving her? her father and mine would rather see me dead than married to her. a bishop, gabriel, they wish me to be a bishop! think of being a bishop and loving mariquilla for all of my life, here and hereafter, think of that and pity me!" "but god opens unknown ways," i said. "it is true, and sometimes my faith is boundless. who knows what to-morrow will bring forth? god and the virgin shall guide me henceforth." "are you devoted to this virgin?" "yes. my mother places candles before the one we have in our house, that i may not fall in battle; and i say to her 'sovereign lady, may this offering also serve to remind you that i cannot cease from loving the daughter of candiola.'" we were in the nave upon which opened the chapel del pilar. there is here an aperture in the wall, by which the devout, descending two or three steps, approach to kiss the pedestal which sustains the revered image. augustine kissed the red marble. i kissed it also; then we left the church to go to our abode. chapter viii the following day, the twenty-second, palafox said to the messenger who came under a flag of truce from moncey to propose terms of surrender. "_i do not know how to surrender. after death, we will talk about that._" he followed this with a long and eloquent article which was published in the "gazette;" but, according to general opinion, neither that document nor any of the proclamations which appeared with the signature of the commanding general were his own composition, but that of his friend, basilio boggiero, a man of great judgment, who was often seen in situations of danger, in the company of patriots and military leaders. it is excusable to say that the army of the defence was very much inspired by the glorious action of the twenty-first. it was necessary to give expression to this ardor, to arrange a sortie, and so in effect it was done; but it happened that all wished to take part in this at the same time, and it was necessary to bury the dead. the sorties, arranged with prudence, were expedient; because the french, extending their lines around the city, were preparing for a regular siege, and had begun upon their outer works. the district of saragossa contained many people, which seemed to the common mind a great advantage, but which seemed to the intelligent a great danger, because of the immense destruction of human life which hunger would quickly bring,--hunger, that terrible general who is always the conqueror of overcrowded besieged cities. because of this excess of people, the sorties were timely. renovales made one on the twenty-fourth with the troops of the fortress of san josé, and cut down an olive grove which hid the works of the enemy. don john o'neill made a sally from the suburb on the twenty-fifth with the volunteers of aragon and huesca, taking the chance of advantage from the enemy's lack of preparation, and killing many of the enemy's men. on the thirty-first was made the most telling sally of all, striking in two distinct places and with considerable forces. during the early part of the day we had divided to perfection the works of the first french parallel, thrown up about three hundred and twenty yards from the walls. they were working actively, not resting by night, and we could see that they had signals of colored lanterns along the whole line. from time to time we discharged our guns, but we caused very little destruction. if troops were especially needed for a reconnoissance, they were despatched in less than no time. the morning of the thirty-first arrived, and my battalion was charged to be ready to march upon orders from renovales to attack the enemy in their centre, from the torrero to the muela road, while general butron did the same by the bernardona, that is to say, by the french left, sallying with sufficient forces of infantry and cavalry by the gates of sancho and portillo. in order to distract the attention of the french, the general commanded that a battalion should be divided into skirmishing parties by the tenerias, calling the attention of the enemy in that direction. in the mean time, with some of the soldiers of olivenza and part of those of valencia, we advanced by the madrid road straight towards the french lines. the skirmishing parties were on both sides of the road when the enemy became aware of our presence, and now we were quicker than deer in doing up the first troop of french infantry which came to meet us. behind a half-ruined country house some fortifications had been thrown up, and they began firing with good aim and much slaughter. for an instant we remained undecided, then some twenty men of us flanked the country house, while the rest followed the high road, pursuing the fugitives; but renovales dashed forward and led us on, cutting down and bayoneting those who were defending the house. at the moment when we set foot within the first defence i noticed that my rank was thinned out. i saw some of my companions fall, breathing their last sighs. i looked to my right, fearing not to find my beloved friend among the living; but god had preserved him. montoria and i were unharmed. we could not spend much time in communicating to each other the satisfaction that we felt at finding ourselves still alive, because renovales gave orders to follow on, in the direction of the line of intrenchments that the french were raising. we abandoned the high road and made a deflection, turning to the right with the intention of joining the volunteers of huesca, who were attacking by the muela road. it may be understood by what i have related that the french did not expect that sortie, and that, taken completely unawares, they were holding there, besides the scanty force that kept the works, the engineers occupied in digging the trenches of the first parallel. we attacked them vigorously, turning upon them a murderous fire, improving the minutes well before the dreaded reinforcements should arrive. we took prisoners those whom we met without arms; we shot those who had them. we took the picks and spades,--all this with unequalled energy, animating one another with fiery words, exalted above all by the thought that they were watching us from the city. in this attack we were fortunate, for while we were destroying those at work on the intrenchments, the troops who had made the sortie on the left were carrying on a successful struggle with the detachments which the enemy had in the bernardona. while the volunteers of huesca, the grenadiers of palafox, and the walloon guards defeated the french infantry, the squadron of numancia and olivenza cavalry cautiously emerged through the puerta de sancho, and making a wide détour occupied the alagon road on one side, and the muela on the other, exactly when the french drew back from the left to the centre, in need of greater auxiliary forces. finding themselves in their element, our fiery cavalry sprang forward, destroying whatever was encountered in the way, and then the disgraced infantry, who were fleeing towards torrero, fell, and were trampled underfoot. in their dispersion, many fell beneath our bayonets, and if their desire to flee from the horses was great, great also was our anxiety to receive them in manner worthy of our swords. some ran, throwing themselves into the trenches, not being able to jump over them; others surrendered at discretion, throwing down their arms; some defended themselves with heroism, permitting themselves to be slain before giving up; and at the last there failed not a few who, shutting themselves up in the brick kiln filled up with boughs and timber, set fire to it, preferring to die by roasting, rather than be taken prisoners. all this which i have related in detail passed in a very short time, while the french commander, having seen enough in this hour, detached sufficient forces to hold back and punish our too audacious expedition. they beat the drum in monte torrero, and we saw a great force of cavalry coming against us; but we who were with renovales had had our desire, the same as those with butron, and were not obliged to wait for those horsemen who arrived at the end of the action; so we retired, giving them from a distance a "good-day" of the most sharp and pointed phrases in our vocabulary. we still had time to make useless some pieces placed ready for employment on the following day. we took a multitude of tools and spades, and we destroyed in all haste whatever we could of their intrenchments without losing hold upon the dozens of prisoners, of which we had taken up a collection. juan pirli, one of our companions in the battalion, was carrying home to saragossa the steel helmet of an engineer for the admiration of the public, and also a frying-pan in which were still the remnants of a breakfast begun in camp before saragossa and ended in the other world. we had had nine killed and eight wounded in our battalion. when augustine rejoined me near the carmen gate, i noticed that one of his hands was stained with blood. "are you wounded?" i asked, examining the hand. "it is nothing more than a scratch." "it is a scratch," he replied; "but it was not made by ball, lance, nor sabre, but by teeth, because when i gripped that frenchman who lifted up his pick to brain me, the damned fellow set his teeth into my hand like a dog at bay." when we entered the city, some by the puerta del carmen, some by the portillo, all the pieces of the redoubts and forts of mediodia poured a fire against the columns which were coming after us. the two sorties combined had done damage enough to the french. in addition to losing many men, a small part of their intrenchments had been made useless to them, and we had possessed ourselves of a considerable number of their tools. besides this, the official engineers that butron took with him on that daring venture had had time to examine the works of the besiegers, and measure them, and could give descriptions of them to the commanding general. the rampart wall was invaded by the people. they had heard within the city the shooting of the skirmishes, and men and women, old people and children had run out to see what glorious action was bulletined on the plaza. we were received with exclamations of rejoicing, and from san josé all the way to the trinitarios, the long line of men and women, looking towards the battlefield, climbed upon the walls, and clapping their hands at our arrival, waving their handkerchiefs, presented a magnificent sight. after the cannon sounded, the redoubts together poured a fire upon the field that we had just abandoned, and their voices seemed a triumphal salvo, as it mingled with the huzzas and shouts of joy. in the surrounding houses, the windows and balconies were filled with women, and the interest or curiosity of some of those in the streets was such that they went into the hurrying crowd in numbers, and up to the cannons, to congratulate the brave souls and soothe with kind words their nerves, high strung with the noise of artillery, which is unlike anything else in the world. it was necessary to command the multitude to depart from the fortress at the portillo. the crowd in the santa engracia gave that place the aspect of a theatre, of a public festival. the fire of the cannon ceased at last, having no more need to protect our retreat, and the castle aljaferia alone sent an occasional shot against the works of the enemy. in reward for our action on that day it was granted us on the next to wear a red ribbon on the breast by way of decoration; in justice to the hazards of that sortie, father boggiero told us, among other things uttered by the mouth of our general, "yesterday you marked the last day of the year with an action worthy of yourselves. at the sound of the bugle your swords leaped from their scabbards and struck to the ground haughty heads humbled by your valor and patriotism. numantia! olivenza! i have now seen that your light horse will know how to preserve the honor of this army and the enthusiasm of these sacred walls! wear these blood-stained swords that are the sign of your glory and the protection of your country." chapter ix from that day, as memorable in the second siege as eras in the first siege, began the great work in whose frenzy and exaltation both besiegers and besieged lived for the next month and a half. the sorties made during the first days of january were not of much importance. the french, having finished their first parallel, advanced in a zig-zag towards opening their second, and worked on it with so much activity that very soon we saw our two best positions in the mediodia, san josé and the redoubt del pilar, threatened by siege batteries, every one with a dozen cannon. i must be excused for saying that we did not cease to make trouble for them, keeping up an incessant fire, and surprising them with sudden skirmishes, but this was all. junot, who now took the place of moncey, carried forward the work with great diligence. our battalion remained in the redoubt raised at the outer end of the huerva bridge. the radius of our fire was considerable, crossing that of san josé. the batteries of los martires, of the botanical garden, and of the torre del pino further within the city were less important than the two bodies holding the advanced positions, and served as auxiliaries. numbers of saragossan volunteers were with us in the garrison, some of the soldiers of the guard, and various armed peasants who rather elected themselves to our corps than came into it by our choice. eight cannons held the redoubt. don domingo larripa was our leader. the artillery was commanded by don francisco betbezé. as chief of engineers, we had the great simono, high official of that distinguished service, and a man of such quality that he was able to quote himself as a model of all good military men, both in valor and in knowledge. the redoubt was a work sufficiently strong for the purpose, and not lacking in any material requisite for defending itself. over the entrance gate at the extremity of the bridge its constructors had placed a tablet with this inscription,-- _the indestructible redoubt of our lady of the pillar. saragossans! die for the virgin del pilar or conquer!_ we had our lodging within the redoubt, and though the place was not altogether bad, we went on poorly enough. the rations were provided by a committee recommended by the military administration; but this committee, to our sorrow, was not able to attend to us properly. by good fortune, and to the honor of that generous people, food was sent to us from the neighboring houses, the best of their provisions; and we were frequently visited by the charitable women, who since the battle of the thirty-first had taken it upon themselves to nurse and care for our poor wounded heroes. i have not spoken of pirli. pirli was a boy from outside the city, a rustic about twenty years of age, and in such jolly condition that the most dangerous situations only moved him to a nervous and feverish joy. i never saw him sad. he met the french singing; and when the bullets whistled past his head, he capered about, making a thousand grotesque gestures, throwing up his hands and fairly dancing. when the fire was thick as hail, he called the bullets "hailstones." he called the cannon-balls "hot cakes;" he called the hand-grenades, "señoras;" and the powder he called "black flour," using other queer terms which i do not now remember. pirli, although not at all a serious person, was a charming companion. i do not know whether i have spoken of tio garces. he was a man of forty-five years, a native of garrapinillos, very brave, bronzed, sawed-off looking, with limbs of steel; there was no one so active or so imperturbable under fire. he was somewhat talkative, and was a little inclined to be imprudent in his conversation, but with a certain wit in his garrulity. he had a small estate in the environs, and a very modest house; but he had levelled it with his own hands, and cut down his pear-trees, so that the enemy could not use them. i heard of a thousand of his valorous deeds in the first siege, and he wore a decoration on his right sleeve, the embroidered shield of distinction of the sixteenth of august. he dressed badly, and went almost half-naked, not because he lacked clothing, but because he had not time to put it on. he and others like him were without doubt those who inspired the celebrated phrase of which i have already made mention: "their bodies were clothed only in glory." he slept without shelter, and ate less than an anchorite; indeed with two pieces of bread and a couple of bites of dried beef hard as hide, he had rations for the day. he was a man somewhat given to meditation. when he saw the works of the second parallel, he said, looking at the french: "thanks be to god, they are drawing near. cuerno! cuerno! these people are a trial to one's patience!" "what a hurry you are in, uncle garces," we said to him. "i should say so. i want to plant my trees again before winter is over. and next month i want to build my little house again." truly tio garces should have worn a tablet on his brow like that on the bridge, reading, "an unconquerable man." but who comes there, advancing slowly along the valley of the huerva, leaning upon a thick stick and followed by a lively little dog which barked at all the passers-by, merely for mischief, without any intention of biting? it is the friar, father mateo del busto, reader and qualifier of the order of saint francis de paula, chaplain of the second company of saragossa volunteers, an important man, who, in spite of his age, was seen during the first siege in all places of danger, succoring the wounded, helping the dying, carrying ammunition to the well, and cheering all by his gentle accents. entering the redoubt, he showed us a large and heavy basket which he had toiled to bring here, and in which was food better than that of our ordinary table. "these cakes," said he, placing it on the ground, and taking out one by one things which he named as he produced them, "have been given me in the house of that most excellent lady, the countess de bureta, and this in the house of don pedro ric. here you have a couple of slices of ham from my convent, which was for father loshollos, whose stomach is not strong, but he renounced this luxury and gave it to me to take to you. see, how does this bottle of wine look to you? how much would those foreign fellows yonder give for it?" we all looked towards the plain. the little dog, leaping impudently upon the wall, began to bark at the french lines. "i have also brought you a couple of pounds of dried fruit which has been kept in the dispensary at our house. we were going to preserve them in liquor, but you taste them first of any one, my brave boys. i have not forgotten thee at all, my beloved pirli," he continued, turning to the boy of that name; "and as you are half naked, and without a cloak, i have brought you a magnificent covering. do you see this bundle? well, here is an old gown that i have kept to give to a poor man. now, i present it to you as a covering for your body. it is unsuitable clothing for a soldier; but if the gown does not make the monk, neither does the uniform make the soldier. put it on, and you will be very comfortable in it." the friar gave our friend his parcel, and pirli put on the garment, laughing and dancing about; and as he was still carrying on his head the engineer's helmet which he had taken in the enemy's camp on the thirty-first, he presented a figure stranger than can readily be imagined. a little later, several women also arrived with baskets of provisions. the arrival of femininity swiftly transformed the aspect of the redoubt. i do not know from where they produced a guitar; it is certain that they produced one from somewhere. one of those present graciously began to play the measures of that incomparable, divine, immortal dance, the _jota_, and in a moment a great revelry of dancing was going on. pirli, whose grotesque figure began in a french engineer and ended in a spanish friar, was the most carried away of any of the dancers, and could not keep tune with his partner, a most graceful girl in spanish highland dress, who was called manuela, whom i noticed the first moment that i saw her. she was about twenty-two years of age, and was slender, of a pure pale complexion. the excitement of the dance quickly flushed her cheeks, and by degrees her movements grew more lively, unmindful of fatigue. with her eyes half shut, her cheeks rosy, her arms moving to the music of the sweet strains, she shook her skirts with lively grace; taking her steps lightly, and presenting to us now her brow, and now her shoulders, manuela held us enchanted. the ardor of the dancing crowd, the lively music, and the enthusiasm of the rest of the dancers augmented her own, until at last, breathless with fatigue, she dropped her arms and fell to earth like a stone or a pomegranate. pirli stood over her, and surrounded her by a sort of corral formed of himself and the basket of provisions. "let us see what you have brought us, manuelilla," said pirli. "if 'twere not for thee and father busto, we should die of hunger. and if it were not for this little dance with which we get rid of the bad taste of the 'hot cakes' and the 'señoras,' what would become of us poor soldiers?" "i bring you whatever there is," replied manuela, opening the basket of provisions. "wait a little. if the siege lasts, you will be eating bricks." "we shall have bullets mixed with black flour," said pirli. "manuelilla, have you got over being afraid of the bullets yet?" saying this, he seized his gun, and shot it off into the air. the girl gave a sharp scream, and, startled, sprang up as if to escape. "it is nothing, daughter," said the friar; "brave women are not afraid of powder. on the contrary, they should take as much pleasure in it as in the sound of castanets and mandolins." "when i hear a ball," said manuela, coming slowly and timidly back, "there is not a drop of blood left in my veins." at this moment the french, wishing to try the artillery of their second parallel, shot off a cannon, and the ball came against the wall of the redoubt, shattering the loose bricks into a thousand pieces. everybody rose to look at the enemy. the highland girl cried out in terror; and tio garces was moved to scream through a loop-hole at the french, heaping upon them the most insolent words, accompanied by many exclamations. the little dog, running from one end of the place to the other, barked furiously. "manuela, let us dance another jota to the sound of this music, and viva the virgin del pilar," cried pirli, jumping about like one out of his senses. manuela rose on tiptoe, impelled by curiosity, and slowly stretched up her head to look at the camp from the wall. then, casting her glance over the level plain, she seemed to dissipate, little by little, the terrors of her fainting spirit; and at last we saw her surveying the enemy's lines with a certain serenity, and even with a little complacency. "one, two, three cannon!" she said, counting the fiery mouths which were discernible at that distance. "come, little boys, don't be afraid. this is nothing to you!" over near san josé was heard the booming of guns, and on our redoubt sounded the drum calling to arms. from the neighboring stronghold had sallied forth a little column that exchanged distant shots with the french workmen. some of these, running to their left, placed themselves within arm's length of our fire. we all ran to the walls, disposed to send them a few hailstones, and without waiting orders, some of us discharged our guns with loud huzzas. all the women fled by the bridge towards the city except manuela. did fear prevent her from moving? no. her fear was great; she trembled, and her teeth chattered; her face grew pale; but an irresistible curiosity kept her in the redoubt. she fastened her gaze on the sharp-shooters, and on the cannon that was about to be discharged. "manuela, are you not going?" said augustine. "doesn't it frighten you to look at all that?" the girl, with her attention fixed on the spectacle, terrified, trembling, with white lips and palpitating bosom, neither moved nor spoke. "manuelilla," said pirli, running up to her, "take my gun and shoot it off." contrary to what we expected, manuelilla did not show any sign of terror. "take it, please," cried pirli, making her take the gun. "put your thumb here. aim over yonder. fire! viva the second artillery woman! viva manuela sancho and the virgin del pilar!" the girl took the gun, and, to judge by her actions, and the stupor of her looks, it seemed as if she did not know what she was doing. but, raising the gun with a trembling hand, she aimed at the field, pulled the trigger, and fired. a thousand fiery shouts of applause greeted the discharge, and the girl left the gun. she was radiant with satisfaction, and her delight deepened the roses in her cheeks. "do you see? you have already lost your fear?" said the priest. "there is nothing more in these things than taking hold of them. all the saragossan women ought to do the same, and then augustina casta alvarez would not be the one glorious exception to her sex." "bring another gun," exclaimed the girl; "i wish to fire again." "they have already marched off, if you please! aren't you a good one!" said pirli, preparing to make an onslaught on the provision basket. "to-morrow, if you like, you shall be invited for a few 'hot cakes.' well, let us make ourselves comfortable and eat." the friar, calling his little dog, said to him: "that is enough, my son; don't bark so, nor take it so much to heart that you make yourself hoarse. keep your boldness until to-morrow. to-day, we have no wish to employ it, for if i am not mistaken they are hurrying away to get behind their works." in fact the skirmish at san josé had concluded, and for the moment the french were not in sight. a short time afterwards the sound of the guitar was renewed, and the women returning, the sweet undulations of the jota began again with manuela sancho and the great pirli in the first line. chapter x when i woke at daybreak the next morning i saw montoria, who was passing by the wall. "i believe that the bombardment is going to begin," he said to me; "there is a great activity in the enemy's lines." "they will try to demolish this redoubt," i said, getting up lazily. "how gloomy the sky is, augustine! day dawns very sadly." "i believe they will attack on all sides at once, until they have made their second parallel. do you know that napoleon in paris, knowing the resistance shown by this city in the first siege, was furious with lefebre desnouettes because he assaulted the plaza by the portillo and the castle aljaferia. he called for a plan of saragossa, and they gave it to him, and he showed that the city should be attacked by santa engracia." "by this place? a black day is indeed dawning for us if the orders of napoleon are carried out. tell me, have we anything to eat here?" "i did not show it to you before because i wished to surprise you," he said to me, showing me a basket which served as the tomb of two cold roast fowls, some comfits and fine preserves. "you brought these last night? indeed! how could you go out of the redoubt?" "i got leave from the general for an hour, and mariquilla prepared this feast. if candiola knows that two of the hens from his chicken-corral have been killed and roasted to regale two of the defenders of the city, the devil will be to pay. let us eat then, señor araceli, while we await the bombardment. here it comes. one bomb! another, another!" the right batteries opened fire upon san josé and the pilar, and what a fire! the whole army seemed behind the cannon. away with breakfasts, away with the morning meal, away with tidbits!--the men of aragon will have no food but glory! the unconquerable fortress answered the insolent besieger with a tremendous cannonade, and soon the great soul of our fatherland moved within us. the balls, beating upon the brick walls and the earthworks, beat down the redoubt as if it were a toy pelted with stones by a boy. the grenades, falling among us, burst with a great noise, and the bombs, passing with awful majesty over our heads, went on to fall into the streets and upon the roofs of the houses. everybody out! let there be no idle or cowardly people in the city. the men to the walls, the women to the bloody hospitals, the children and priests to carry ammunition! let no notice be taken of these dreadful and burning things which bore through roofs, penetrate dwelling-houses, open gates, pierce floors, descend to the cellars, and, bursting, scatter the flames of hell upon the tranquil hearth, surprising with death the aged invalid on his couch and the child in his cradle. nothing of this sort matters. everybody out into the street, and thus save honor though the city perish, and the churches and convents and hospitals and the estates which are but earthly things! the saragossans, despising material good as they despised life, lived by their spirits in the infinite spaces of the ideal. in the first moments the captain-general and many other distinguished personages visited us,--such as don mariano cereso the priest of sas, general o'neill, san genis, and don pedro ric. there was also there the brave and generous don josé montoria, who embraced his son, saying to him: "to-day is the day to conquer or to die. we will meet each other in heaven." behind montoria, don roque presented himself; he had become a brave fellow, and as he had been employed in the sanitary service, he began to show a feverish activity before there were any wounded, and displayed to us a good sized pile of lint. various friars mingled among the combatants during the early firing, encouraging us with mystic fervor. at the same time, and with equal fury, the french attacked the redoubt del pilar and the fortress of san josé. the latter, although more formidable in aspect, had less power of resistance, perhaps because it presented a broader target for the enemy's fires. but renovales was there with the huesca and the valencia volunteers, the walloon guards, and various members of the militia of soria. the great lack of the fortress was in its having been constructed for the protection of a vast edifice, which the enemy's artillery converted into ruins in a little while; pieces of the thick wall were forced in from time to time, and many of its defenders were crushed. we were better off. over our heads we had only the heavens, and if no roof guarded us from the bombs, neither did masses of masonry fall upon us. they demolished the wall by the front and sides, and it was a pity to see how that fragile mass fell away little by little, placing us in an exposed position. nevertheless, after four hours of incessant fire by powerful artillery, they were not able to open a breach. thus passed the day of the tenth with no advantage for the besiegers from us, even if they had succeeded in getting near san josé and opening a wide breach, which, together with the ruined condition of the building, forced the unhappy necessity of its surrender. yet, in the mean time, the fortress had not been reduced to powder, and, dead or alive, its defenders had hope. fresh troops were sent there, because the battalions working there since morning were decimated; and when night fell, after the opening of the breach and the fruitless attempt at an assault, yet renovales held the blood-soaked ruins, among the heaps of corpses, with only the third part of his artillery. when night interrupted the firing, there had been great carnage on both sides. we ourselves had lost many by death, and more were wounded. the wounded were carried at the time into the city by the friars and the women; but the dead still gave their last service with their cold bodies, for they were stoically thrown into the open breach, which was being stopped up with sacks of wool and earth. during the night we did not rest for one single moment, and the dawn of the eleventh found us inspired by the same frenzy, our pieces already pointed against the enemy's intrenchments, and already piercing with musket shots those who were coming to flank us, without hindering for a moment the work of stopping up the breach, which was widening, hour by hour its dreadful spaces. so we endured all the morning until the moment when they began the assault upon san josé, now converted into a heap of ruins, and with most of its garrison dead. centring the forces upon these two points, they fell upon the convent, and directed an audacious movement upon us; and it was with the object of making our breach practicable that they advanced by the torrero road with two cannons protected by a column of infantry. at that moment we thought ourselves lost. the feeble walls trembled, and the bricks were shattered into thousands of pieces. we ran up to the breach, which was widening every instant, where they poured upon us a horrible fire. seeing that the redoubt was being shattered to pieces, they took courage to come to the very borders of the fosse itself. it was madness to try to fill that terrible space, and to show an uncovered place was to offer victims without number to the fury of the enemy. we protected ourselves as well as we could with sacks of wool and shovels of earth, and many stood as if petrified on the spot. the firing of the cannon ceased because it seemed necessary; there was a moment of indefinable panic; the guns fell from our hands; we saw ourselves routed, destroyed, annihilated by that rain of fire that seemed to fill the air. we forgot honor, the fatherland, the glory of death, the virgin del pilar, whose name adorned the bridge and the "unconquerable" defences. the most dreadful confusion reigned in our ranks. descending suddenly from the high moral level of our souls, all those who had not fallen desired life of one accord, and, leaping over the wounded and trampling the dead under foot, we fled towards the bridge, abandoning that horrible sepulchre before it should shut us in, entombing us all. on the bridge we were swallowed up by insupportable terror and disorder. there is nothing more frenzied than a coward. his abject meannesses are as great as the sublimities of his valor. our leaders kept crying out to us, "back, you rabble! the redoubt del pilar has not surrendered!" striking our swords with their sabres. we turned back on the bridge, unable to go further, as reinforcements came, and we stumbled over one another, the fury of our fear mingling with the impetus of their bravery. "back, cowards!" cried our officers, striking us in the faces, "and die in the breach!" the redoubt was vacated. none but the dead and the wounded were there. suddenly we saw advance amid the dense smoke and the blackness of powder, leaping over the lifeless bodies and the heaps of earth and the ruins, and the guns we had thrown down, and the shattered works, a figure, dauntless, pale, splendid, of tragic calmness. it was a woman who had made her way forward and, penetrating the abandoned place, was marching like a queen towards the horrible breach. pirli, who was lying on the ground, wounded in the leg, exclaimed in affright, "manuela sancho, where are you going?" all this passed in much less time than i take to tell it. after manuela sancho, first one, then another, then many hurried, then all, urged on by the leaders whose sabre-cuts had prodded us to the point of duty. this portentous transformation came about by the impulse of every man's heart obeying sentiments which all feel without any one's knowing whence the mysterious force emanates. i do not know why we were cowards, nor why we were brave a few moments later. what i do know is that, moved by an extraordinary power, immense and superhuman, we hurled ourselves into the breach behind the heroic woman, at the point where the french were attempting the assault with ladders. without in the least knowing how to explain it, we felt our strength increased a hundred-fold, and crushed them back, hurling into the ditch those men of cotton who a little while ago had seemed to us men of steel. with shots and sabre-cuts, with shells, with shovels full of earth, by blows, and bayonet-thrusts, we fought. many of our number died to defend others with their dead bodies. we defended the breach, indeed, and the french were obliged to retire, leaving many dead and wounded at the bottom of the wall. the cannons again began firing, and the unconquerable redoubt did not fall on the eleventh into the hands of the french. when the tempest of fire was calmed, we did not know ourselves. we were transfigured, and something new and unknown palpitated in the depths of our souls, giving us an unheard-of fierceness. the following day palafox said, with much eloquence: "nor balls, nor bombs, nor shells shall make our faces change color, nor can all france accomplish that!" chapter xi the fortress of san josé had surrendered, or rather the french had entered it when their artillery had reduced it to powder, and all of its defenders had fallen, one by one, to lie among its fragments. the imperial soldiers, on entering, found heaps of bodies and stones matted together with blood. they could not establish themselves there because they were flanked by the batteries of los martires and the botanical garden, so they continued operations by mining, in order to possess themselves of those two points. the fortifications which we held were so nearly destroyed that a general agreement was urgent, and the terrible orders, calling upon all the inhabitants of saragossa to work in renewing them. the proclamation said that every citizen should carry a gun in one hand and spade in the other. the twelfth and thirteenth were without rest, the fire diminishing a little because the besiegers, warned by sad experience, did not wish to risk any more hand-to-hand conflicts. understanding that theirs was a work of patience and skill, rather than of boldness and bravery, they opened slowly, and with security, roads and mines which should lead to the possession of the redoubt without loss of men. it was almost necessary to build our walls anew, or rather to substitute sacks of earth for them, an operation in which many friars, canons, civil officials, children, and women were occupied. the artillery was almost useless, the fosse about filled up, and it was necessary to continue the defence at short range. and so we wore through the thirteenth, protecting the works as we rebuilt them, suffering much, and seeing ourselves constantly decreasing in numbers, although new men came to take the places of the many that we lost. on the fourteenth the enemy's artillery tried to demolish our new walls, opening breaches for us on the front and at the sides. they did not dare to try a new assault, contenting themselves with opening a mine in such a direction that we could not in any way cover it with our fire, nor with that of any battery near by. our valorous tantalizing earthworks would soon be covered by the fires of the french batteries, which were hurling to the four winds the earth of which they were formed. in this situation, surrender was inevitable sooner or later. indeed we were at the mercy of the french arms as a ship at the mercy of the waves of the ocean. flanked by roads and zig-zags, through which a strong and clever enemy might walk without danger, protected by all the resources of science, our bulwarks of defence were like one man surrounded by an army. we had no serviceable cannons, nor could we bring other new ones, because the walls would not have borne them. our only resource was to keep watch of the redoubt in order to fly from it at the moment when the french should enter and destroy the bridge, in order to prevent them from following us. this was done; and on the night of the fourteenth they worked without rest on the mine, and we placed small mines at the bridge, hoping that the following day the enemy would try to mount by that wall. but this did not happen. not daring to make another assault without all the precautions and security possible, they continued their work of digging very nearly up to our fosse. in this labor our indefatigable fusileers did them little damage. we were desperate, but without power to do anything. our desperation was of no avail; it was a useless force, like the rage of a lunatic in his cage. we drew out the nails from the tablet which proclaimed ours to be the unconquerable redoubt, in order to take away with us that witness of our justifiable arrogance. at nightfall the fortification was abandoned, only forty remaining to keep it until the end, and shoot all they could, as our captain said that no chance might be lost to lose the enemy a couple of men. from the torre del pino we saw the retreat of the forty at about eight o'clock in the evening, after they had met the invaders with bayonet-thrusts; they retreated fighting bravely. the interior mine of the redoubt had had little effect, but the small mines of the bridge acquitted themselves so well that the passage was destroyed and the redoubt isolated from the other bank of the huerva. gaining this position and san josé, the french would have enough protection to open their third parallel and to demolish at their leisure the whole circuit of the city. we were saddened and just a little discouraged; but of what importance is a little depression when on the day following one has a diversion and a feast? after being madly discouraged, a little jollity does not come amiss, especially when time is wanting to bury the dead; nor was there room in the houses for the many who were wounded. it is true that there were hands for all that had to be done, thanks be to god. the reason for the general rejoicing was that glorious rumors were in circulation of spanish armies that were coming to succor us, on the heels of the french, in many parts of the peninsula. the people crowded into the plaza de la seo, and in front of the magdalene arch, waiting until the "gazette" should appear; and at last it came out, cheering everybody's spirits, and making all hearts palpitate with hope. i do not know if such rumors had really reached saragossa, or if they originated in the wits of the chief editor, don ignacio assor. it is certain that they told us in print that reading was coming to succor us with an army of sixty thousand men, that the marquis of lazan, after routing the mob in the north of catalonia, had entered france, spreading terror in every direction, and that also the duke del infantado was coming to our aid, who with blake and la romana had routed napoleon, slaying twenty thousand men, including berthier, ney, and savary, and that at cadiz had arrived several millions in hard cash sent by the english for the expense of war. what did it all mean? could the "gazette" explain all this? in spite of the size of these mouthfuls of rumor, we swallowed them; and there were demonstrations of joy, ringing of church bells, running through the streets, and singing the music of the jota, with many other patriotic excesses, which at least had the advantage of affording us a little of that cooling off of our mental temperature which was necessary. do not believe that in consideration of our joy the rain of bombs had ceased! very far from that! they seemed to jeer at the news of our "gazette," as they repeated their dose. feeling a lively desire to laugh at them to their faces, we went to the walls. the musicians of the regiments played in a tantalizing fashion, and we all sang in an immense chorus the famous words,-- "the virgin del pilar says she wouldn't like to be a frenchwoman!" they were in a mood for answering jests, and in less than two hours a greater number of projectiles were sent into the city than during all the rest of the day. there was now no longer a secure refuge; there was not a hand's breadth of ground or of roof free from that satanic fire. families fled from their homes, or took refuge in the cellars. the wounded, who were numerous in the principal houses, were carried to the churches, seeking shelter in their strong vaults. others went dragging themselves along. some more active ones carried their bedding upon their shoulders. most of them were accommodated in the pilar; and after the floor was all filled, they were stretched out upon the altars and crowded into the chapels. in spite of their misfortunes, they were consoled by looking at the virgin, who seemed to say to them unceasingly with her brilliant eyes that she would not care to be a frenchwoman! chapter xii my battalion did not take part in the sorties of the days of the twenty-second and twenty-fourth, nor in the defence of the molino and the positions situated at the back of san josé, made glorious by the destruction of many of our troops, where they had made the french feel the strength of their hand. it was not because they had not been careful to take precautions, for indeed from the mouth of huerva to the carmen gate they stationed fifty cannon, most of them of heavy calibre, directing them with great skill against our weakest points. in spite of all this, we laughed, or pretended to laugh, at them, as in the vain-glorious response of palafox to marshal lannes (who had placed himself since the twenty-second at the head of the besieging army), in which he said to him, "the conquest of this city will be a great honor to monsieur the marshal if he gains it in open fight, and not with bombs and grenades, which only terrify cowards." of course, after a few days had passed, it was known that the hoped-for forces and the powerful armies that were coming to free us were all mists of our imaginations, and especially of that of the journalist who invented them. there were no such armies of any sort roaming about to help us. i understood very soon that all that which was published in the "gazette" of the sixteenth was a canard, and so i said to don josé de montoria and his wife, who in their optimism attributed my incredulity to a lack of public spirit. i had gone with augustine and others of my friends to the montoria house to help them at a task that was wearying them greatly. a part of their roof had been destroyed by the bombs, and this threatened the walls with destruction also. they were trying to remedy this with all possible speed. the eldest son of montoria, wounded in battle at the molino, had been lodged with his wife and son in the cellar of a house close by, and doña leocadia gave her hands and feet no rest, going and coming between the two houses, carrying things which were necessary. "i can't let anything be done by others," she said to me; "that is my nature. although i have servants, i am not content unless i do everything myself. how has my son augustine borne himself?" "like what he is, señora, a brave boy," i answered; "and his talent for war is so great that i should not be surprised to see him a general in a couple of years." "a general!" she exclaimed in surprise. "my son is going to chant masses as soon as the siege is ended. indeed you know we have educated him for that. god and the virgin del pilar bring him in safety through battle, that the rest of his days may go on in appointed ways! the fathers at the seminary have assured me that i shall see my son with his mitre on his head and his crosier in his hand." "it will be so, señora, i do not doubt it. but seeing how he manages arms, i cannot bring myself to the thought that with the same hand with which he pulls the trigger, he will also scatter benedictions." "it is true, señor de araceli; and i have always said that the trigger is not becoming to churchmen. but you see how it is. here we have great warriors,--don santiago sas, don manuel lasartesa; the incumbent of san pablo, don antonio la casa; the parish priest of san miguel, don josé martinez; and also don vicente casanova, who is famous as the first theologian of saragossa. indeed they all fight, my son also, though i suppose he will be eager to return to the seminary and plunge into his studies. would you believe it? lately he was studying books so large that they weighed two quintals. god's blessing be on the boy! i am quite foolish over him when he recites some grand things all in latin. i suppose they are all about our lord, and his love for his church, because there is a great deal about _amorem_ and _formosa_ and _pulcherrima_, _inflamavit_, and other words like those." "exactly," i replied, imagining that his recitations were from the fourth book of a certain ecclesiastical work called the Æneid, written by a certain friar virgil of the order of predicadores. "it must be as i say," said doña leocadia. "and now, señor de araceli, let us see if you can help me move this table." "with the greatest pleasure, dear lady. i will move it for you myself," i replied, taking charge of it at the moment that don josé de montoria entered, pouring out "porras" and "cuernos" from his blessed mouth. "how is this, porra!" he cried; "men occupied in women's business? it is not for moving tables and chairs that a gun has been placed in your hands! and you, wife? how can you distract in this manner a man needed on the other side? you and the children, porra! can you not move the furniture? are you made of paste or cheese? look! in the street below is the countess de bureta with a bed on her shoulders, and her two maids carrying a wounded soldier on a cot." "very well," said doña leocadia, "there is no need of making such a noise about it. the men may go. everybody out into the street, and leave us alone! away with you, too, augustine my son, and god preserve you in the midst of this inferno." "we must carry twenty sacks of flour from the convent of trinitarios to the headquarters of supplies," said montoria. "come, let us all go." and when we were in the street, he added, "the numbers of people in saragossa will soon make half rations necessary. it is true, my friends, that there is much concealed provision, and although it has been ordered that everybody declare what he has, many do not take any notice of the order, and keep what they have to sell at fabulous prices. it's a bad business. if i discover them, and they fall into my hands, i will make them understand that montoria is president of the junta of supplies." we had reached the parish church of san pablo when we were met by a friar, father mateo del busto, who was coming with much fatigue, forcing his feeble steps, and accompanied by another friar whom they called father luengo. "what news do your reverences bring us?" montoria asked them. "don juan gallart has twenty pounds of inlaid work which he places at the disposal of the committee." "and don pedro pizueta, the shop-keeper of the calle de las moscas, generously offers sixty sacks of wool, and all the salt and wool of his storehouses," added luengo. "but we have just been dealing with the miser candiola," said the friar; "a battle with which not even the eras can compare." "how is that?" asked don josé, with astonishment. "has not that wretched niggard understood that we will pay him for his flour? he is the only citizen of saragossa who has not given a penny for the provisioning of the army." "there is no use in preaching to candiola," said luengo. "he has said decisively that we need not return there unless we bring him one hundred and twenty-four reales for each sack of flour, and he has seventy-eight of them in his storehouse." "is there any infamy equal to his!" exclaimed montoria, letting loose a string of porras, which i do not copy for fear of wearying my reader. "what! a hundred and twenty-four reales are necessary to make that stingy piece of flint understand the duties of a son of saragossa in times like these! the captain-general has given me authority to take whatever provisions are necessary, paying the fixed price for them." "do you hear what i tell you, señor don josé?" said busto; "candiola says that who wants flour must pay for it. he said that if the city is not able to defend itself, it must surrender; that he has no obligation to give anything for the war, because he was not the one who brought it on." "let us go there," said montoria, with anger, which showed itself in his gestures, his altered voice, his darkened visage. "it is not the first time that i have had that dog, that blood-sucker, in my hands." i came behind with augustine, who was pale and downcast. i wished to speak with him, but he made signs to keep silence. we followed to see how this would end. we found ourselves quickly in the calle de anton trillo; and montoria said to us,-- "boys, go on ahead and knock at the door of this insolent jew. force it open, if no one opens it; enter, and tell him to come down to see me. take him by the ear, but be careful he does not bite you, for he is a mad dog and a venomous serpent." when we were walking on, i looked again at augustine, and saw that he was livid and trembling. "gabriel," he said, "i wish to run away. i wish that the earth would open and swallow me. my father will kill me, but i cannot do what he has commanded me." "come, lean on me; then act as if you had twisted your foot, and cannot go on." this was done, and our other companions and i began knocking at the door. the old woman showed herself at the window, and greeted us with a thousand insolent words. a few minutes passed, and then we saw a very beautiful hand raise the curtain, permitting us to see for a moment a face changed and pale, whose great dark eyes cast terrified glances towards the street. at that moment my companions and the boys who were following were crying in hoarse concert,-- "come down, uncle candiola. come down, dog of a caiaphas!" contrary to our expectation, candiola obeyed; but he did it believing that he had to do with the mob of vagabond boys who were in the habit of giving him such serenades, with no suspicion that the president of the junta of supplies, and two others in authority, were there to talk with him on a matter of importance. he soon had occasion to know that this was a serious matter, for at the opening of the door, as he came running out with a cudgel in his hand, and his ugly eyes glowing with wrath, he came face to face with montoria, and drew back in alarm. "ah, it is you, señor de montoria," he said, with very bad grace. "how is it that you, being a member of the committee of public safety, have not been able to disperse this rabble which has come to make this noise before the gate of the house of an honorable citizen?" "i am not a member of the committee of public safety, but of the junta of supplies, so i come in search of the señor candiola, and make him come down; but i will not enter this dark house full of cobwebs and mice." "the poor cannot live in palaces like señor josé de montoria, administrator of the goods of the commune, and for a long time tax-collector," replied candiola. "i made my fortune by work, not by usury," exclaimed montoria. "but let us make an end of this. señor don jeronimo, i have come for that flour. these two good fathers have acquainted you with our need of it already." "yes, i will sell it, i will sell it," answered candiola, with a crafty smile; "but i cannot part with it at the price which these señors indicated. it is too little. i do not part with it for less than one hundred and sixty-two reales for a sack of a hundred pounds." "i do not ask _your_ price," said don josé, restraining his indignation. "the junta may dispose as it likes with its own; but in my house no one sells anything but myself," answered the miser. "and that is all there is to say. each one may do in his own house as i do in mine." "come, look here, you blood-sucker!" exclaimed montoria, catching him by the arm, making him jump, "look here, candiola of a thousand devils, i have said that i have come for the flour, and i will not go without it! the army of defence of saragossa must not die of hunger, porra! and all citizens must contribute to maintain it." "to maintain it! to maintain the army!" cried the miser, venomously. "perhaps i am the author of its being?" "miserable pig, is there not in your black and empty soul one spark of patriotism?" "i do not maintain vagabonds. what need was there that the french should bombard us and destroy the city? you want me to feed the soldiers. i will give them poison." "wretch, worm, blood-sucker of saragossa, disgrace of the spanish people!" exclaimed my protector, threatening with his doubled fist the miser's wrinkled face. "i would rather be damned to hell forever than to be what you are, to be candiola for one minute. you black conscience, you perverse soul, are you not ashamed of being the only one in this city who has refused all his resources to the patriotic army of his country? does not everybody's hatred of you for this vile conduct weigh upon you more heavily than if all the rocks of moncayo had fallen upon you?" "stop your music and leave me in peace," said don jeronimo, starting to the door. "look here, you unclean reptile," cried montoria, detaining him, "i have told you that i am not going without the flour. if you do not produce it with good grace, as every good spaniard does, you shall be made to give it by force. i will pay you forty-eight reales per sack,--its price before the siege." "forty-eight reales," exclaimed candiola, with an expression of rancor, "i will sell my skin at that price before the flour. i would pay more than that for it. the accursed mob! shall they be supported by me, señor de montoria?" "you may thank them, miserable usurer, because they have not put an end to your useless life. does not the generosity of this people surprise you? in the other siege, while we were enduring the greatest privations in order to get money together, your heart of stone remained insensible, and they could not pull out of you one old shirt to cover the nakedness of a poor soldier, or one piece of bread to appease his hunger. saragossa has not forgotten your infamies. do you not remember that after the battle of the fourth of august, when the wounded were distributed throughout the city, and two were assigned to you, and rang at your door, it was not possible for them to get their shadows into this wretched door? on the night of the fourth they arrived at your door, and with their weak hands they rang for you to open to them; but their moans and suffering did not move your heart of brass. you came to the door, and kicked them into the street, saying that your house was not a hospital. unworthy son of saragossa! but you have not the soul of a son of saragossa. you were born a mallorcan, of the blood of a jew!" the eyes of candiola shot fire. his jaw quivered, and his fingers closed convulsively upon the cudgel in his right hand. "yes, you have the blood of a mallorcan jew. you are no son of this noble city. do not the moans of those poor wounded men sound in your bat's ears? one of them, who was bleeding badly, died on this spot where we are standing. the other managed to creep to the market, where he told of what had happened. infamous scarecrow! do you suppose that the people of saragossa are going to forget the morning of the fifth? candiola, candiolilla, give me that flour, and we will close this transaction in peace." "montoria, montorilla," replied the other, "my ground and my work will not go to fatten idle vagabonds. ya! talk to me of charity and generosity and the needs of the poor soldiers! i have heard enough talk about those wretched sponges who are fed at the public cost. the committee of supplies will have no chance to laugh at me. as if we did not understand all this music about 'succor of the army.' montoria, montorilla, you have a little dough in your own house, isn't that true? good dough can be found in the ovens of every patriot, made of the flour given by the foolish blockheads that the committee of supplies knows. forty-eight reales! a pretty price! then, in the accounts which will go to the captain-general it will be set down as if bought at sixty reales, with a snapper of 'the virgin del pilar would not like to be a frenchwoman.'" when he said this, don josé de montoria, who was already choking with wrath, lost his stirrups, as the saying is, and powerless to contain his indignation, went straight up to candiola, apparently to slap his face; but the other had with one strategic glance foreseen the movement, and prepared to repel it. quickly taking the offensive, he threw himself with a catlike spring upon my protector, grasping his neck with both hands and fastening upon him with his strong and bony fingers, at the same time making ready with his teeth, as if he were about to take between them the entire person of his enemy. there was a brief struggle in which montoria strove to free himself from those feline claws which had so suddenly made him their captive; but it could be seen in an instant that the nervous strength of the miser could not hold against the muscular strength of the aragonese patriot. he shook him off violently. candiola fell to the ground like a dead man. we heard the cry of a woman from an upper window, and then the snap of a window-shutter closing. in this dramatic moment i wheeled about anxiously towards augustine, but he had disappeared. don josé de montoria, mad with rage, kicked angrily at the prostrate body, stammering thickly in his wrath. "you dirty pick-pocket, enriched with the blood of the poor, you dare to call me a thief, to call the members of the committee of supplies thieves! by a thousand porras! i will teach you to respect honest people, and you may be thankful that i do not tear out that miserable tongue of yours and throw it to the dogs." all this struck us fairly dumb; but presently we snatched the unlucky candiola from under the feet of his enemy. his first movement was made as if to jump upon him again, but montoria had gone into the house, calling: "come, boys, we will go into the storehouse and get the flour. quickly, let us make haste, quickly!" the great number of people who had congregated in the street prevented old candiola from entering his own house. the gamins, who had come running from all over the neighborhood, took charge of him themselves. some pulled him forward, others pushed him backward, tearing his clothing to shreds. others, taking the offensive from afar, threw great chunks of street mud at him. in the mean time a woman came to meet those of us who had entered the lower floor where the storerooms were. at the first glance i recognized the beautiful mariquilla, altered and trembling, wavering at every step, without power to stand erect or speak, paralyzed with terror. her fear was so great that we all pitied her, even montoria. "you are the daughter of señor candiola," he said, drawing from his pocket a handful of money, and making a brief reckoning on the wall with a bit of charcoal which he picked up from the floor. "sixty-eight sacks of flour at forty-eight reales is three thousand two hundred and sixty-four. they are not worth half that, for they seem to me decidedly musty. take it, child, here is the exact amount." mariquilla candiola made no movement whatever towards taking the money, and montoria put it down upon a box, saying,-- "there it is!" then the girl with a brusque and energetic movement which seemed, as it certainly was, the inspiration of her offended dignity, took the money, gold, silver, and copper, and threw it as if it were so many stones into the face of montoria. the money was scattered all over the floor, and rolled out of the door without much promise of any one's finding it all in the future. immediately afterwards the señorita went without a word into the street. she beheld her father jammed into the crowd; and presently, aided by some young men, unable to see with indifference a woman in distress, she freed him from the infamous captivity in which the boys held him. the father and daughter entered by the garden gate, as we were beginning to remove the flour. chapter xiii when we had finished carrying out the flour, i went and looked for augustine; but i could find him nowhere, neither in his father's house, nor at the headquarters of supplies, nor in the coso, nor in santa engracia. at nightfall i found him in the powder mill near san juan de los panetes. i have forgotten to say that the saragossans had improvised a work shop where were turned out daily nine or ten quintals of powder. i saw augustine helping the workmen put into sacks and barrels the powder made during the day. he was working with feverish activity. "do you see this enormous heap of powder?" he said to me when i approached him. "do you see those sacks and those barrels all full of the same material? well, gabriel, it seems to me very little." "i don't know what you are trying to say." "i say that if this immense quantity of powder were as big as saragossa i should like it still better. yes, and in such a case i should like to be the only inhabitant of this great city. what a pleasure! listen, gabriel! if it were so, i would myself set fire to it, and fly into the clouds, torn to pieces in the horrible explosion like pieces of rock which a volcano throws to a distance of a hundred leagues. i would be hurled to the fifth heaven, and of my members, scattered everywhere, there would be no memory! death, gabriel, death is what i desire! but i desire a death--i do not explain it to you. my desperation is so great that to die of a gunshot or a sabre-thrust would not satisfy me. i long to be rent asunder, and diffused through space in a thousand burning particles. i pant to feel myself in the bosom of a flame-bearing cloud. my spirit yearns, if only for an infinitesimal instant, the delight of seeing this wretched body reduced to powder. gabriel, i am desperate. do you see this powder? imagine within my breast all the flames which this could make. did you see her when she went out to get her father? did you see her when she threw the money? i was in a corner where i could see it all. mariquilla does not know that that man who maltreated her father is my own! did you see how the boys threw mud at poor candiola? i realize that candiola is a wretch. but she, what fault has she? she and i, what fault have we? none, gabriel. my heart is broken, and thirsts for a thousand deaths. i cannot live. i will run into the place of greatest danger and fling myself into the fire of the french. after what i have seen to-day, i and the earth on which i dwell may not be together." i drew him away from the place, taking him to the walls; and we went to work on the fortifications which were being made in las tenerias, the weakest point in the city since the destruction of san josé and santa engracia. i have already said that from the mouth of the huerva to san josé stretched a line of fifty mouths of fire. against this formidable line of attack what avail was our fortified circuit? the quarter of las tenerias extended from the eastern part of the city, between the huerva and the old part of the town, perfectly outlined yet by the wide road which is called the coso. it was at the beginning of this century a village of mean houses, almost all inhabited by laborers and artisans, and the religious houses there had none of the splendor of the monuments of saragossa. the general plan of this district is approximately the segment of a circle whose arc curves out to the open country, and whose chord unites it to the city, from the puerta quemada to the rise at the sepulcro. from that line to the circumference ran several streets, some of them broken, like the calles de la diezma, barrio verde, de los clavos, and de pabostre. some of these were marked not by rows of houses, but by walls, and lacking sometimes one thing and sometimes another. the streets spread out into formless little squares or yards or barren gardens. i describe badly because in the days i refer to the heaps of ruins left by the first siege had been used to mount batteries and raise barricades in points where the houses did not offer a natural defence. near the fortification of the ebro were some remnants of an ancient wall, with various little towers of masonry which some persons supposed to be from the hands of the romans, and others judged to be the work of the moors. in my time--i do not know how it may be now--these pieces of wall seemed to be mortised into the houses, or rather the houses were mortised into them, appearing like props and corners of that ancient work, blackened but not crumbled by the passing of so many centuries. the new had been built in a confused way upon the ruins of the old, as the spanish people had developed and grown upon the spoils of other peoples of mixed bloods, until they became as they are to-day. the general aspect of the district of las tenerias brought to the imagination pleasant fancies of all that had taken place during moorish rule, the abundance of brick, the long gable ends, the irregular fronts, the window lattices with shutters, the complete architectural anarchy, making it impossible to know where one house ended and another began, or of distinguishing whether this had two floors or three, or if that roof served to support the walls of that one over there. the streets at best ended in yards with no ways out. the archways, which gave entrance to a little square, reminded me that here was a vista upon another spanish people, very different from those now here. this amalgamation of houses which i have described to you, this suburb built up by many generations of laborers and peasants and tanners, according to the caprice of each, without order or harmony, had prepared itself for the defence on the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth days of january, at the time when the french began to display their pomp of attack by placing forces on that side. all the families living in the houses of this suburb proceeded to build works according to their own strategic instincts. there were military engineers in petticoats who demonstrated a profound knowledge of war by walling up certain spaces and opening others to the light, and for purposes of firing. the walls of the eastern side were spiked along their length. the turrets of the wall of cæsar augustus, built to resist arrows and sling stones, now upheld cannon. if any one of these pieces were turned upon one of the neighboring roofs, the roof or the entire house, whatever was there, would be immediately blown to pieces. many passages had been obstructed, and two of the religious edifices of the suburb, san augustine and las monicas, were veritable fortresses. the wall had been rebuilt and strengthened; the batteries had been joined together, and our engineers had calculated the positions and the reach of the enemy's guns very well, in order to accommodate our defences to them. our line had two advanced points, the mill of goicoechea and a house which, because it belonged to a certain don victoriano gonzalez, has gone into history by the name of the casa de gonzalez. this line, running from the puerta quemada, met first the battery of palafox, then the molino, the mill, in the city, then the garden of san augustine; it continued to the mill of goicoechea, situated a little out of the district, then to the orchard of las monicas, and on to those of san augustine; further up, a great battery and the house of gonzalez. this is all that i remember of las tenerias. there was over there a place called the sepulcro, because of its nearness to a church of that name. more than one portion of the suburb, indeed, deserved the name of sepulchre. i tell you no more in order not to tire you with these descriptive minutiæ, unnecessary to one who knows those glorious places, and insufficient for one who has been unable to visit them. chapter xiv augustine montoria and i stood guard with our battalion in the molino until after nightfall, the hour when we were relieved by the huesca volunteers; then we permitted ourselves to be all night outside the lines. but it must not be believed that during these hours we strolled about hand in hand; for when our military services were over, there were others no less onerous in the interior of the city, where the wounded had already been carried to la seo and to the pilar,--burning houses to carry things out of, or materials to carry to the friars, the canons, and the civil officials, who were making cartridges in san juan de los panetes. montoria and i went there by way of the calle de pabostre. i walked along munching a crust of bread with good appetite. my companion, taciturn and gloomy, amused himself by throwing his to the dogs that we met as we walked along. although i exerted my imagination in efforts to cheer his sad spirit, he remained dull and insensible to it all, replying but sadly to my merry chatter. as we entered the coso, he said to me,-- "it is ten by the clock of the torre nueva. do you know--i wish to go there to-night." "to-night you will not be able to go. try to stifle the flame of love in its ashes, while we are threatened by those other burning hearts, the flaming bombs which are coming to break in the houses and among the people." it was even so. the bombarding, which had not ceased during all the day, was continued during the night, though with a little less vigor; and from time to time projectiles fell, augmenting the already large number of victims within the city. "i must go there this night," he said. "did not mariquilla see me among all those who crowded in front of the door of her house? will she not think me one of those who abused her father?" "i don't believe so. that young woman would know how to distinguish between individuals. she has already made inquiries, and now is no time for stolen sweets. do you see? from that house coming this way are some poor women in need of help. look, one of them is not able to creep further, and falls to the ground. is it not possible that the señorita doña mariquilla candiola has also gone to care for the wounded at san pablo or the pilar?" "i do not believe so." "or perhaps where they are making cartridges?" "i believe that still less. she would be in her house, and there is where i wish to go, gabriel. you may go and see to the carrying of the wounded, or to the powder, or whatever you please, but i am going there!" as he said this, pirli presented himself to us in his friar's habit, already torn and hanging in a thousand fragments, and on his head the french engineer's helmet, badly battered, but plated and plumed, and making our hero look less like a soldier than a carnival figure. "are you coming to help carry the wounded?" he asked. "they have just killed two more for us that we are carrying to san pablo. they need men there to open the ditch where they are burying our dead of yesterday, but i have worked enough. i am going to the house of manuela sancho to see if i can get a snatch of sleep. but, first, we are going to dance a little. don't you want to come along?" "no, we are going to san pablo," i replied, "to bury the dead. there is enough to do." "they say that so many dead make the air bad, and that is why there are so many ill of the fever. that is finishing them faster than their wounds, over by the other barricade. i would rather have some 'hot cakes' than the epidemic. a 'señora' wouldn't scare me, but a chill and a fever would. so then you are going to bury the dead?" "yes," said augustine, "let us bury the dead." "in san pablo there are no less than forty wounded," answered pirli; "and, at the rate we're going there, we'll soon be more dead than living. don't you want a little diversion? if you are not going to work on the ditch, why not come along to the cartridge factory? all the girls will be there, and from time to time they will give us some singing, or cheer our souls with a little dancing." "we have no fault to find with all that. will manuela sancho be there too?" "no, the girls there are the young ladies of saragossa, the señoritas who have been called into service by the committee of safety. there are a great many of them in the hospitals too. they invite themselves for that service. and it would be a queer one who would use her eyes so little as not to make a match for herself, if not for this year, then for next!" we heard the rushing sound of many footsteps behind us, and, turning, we saw a great number of people, among whose voices we recognized that of don josé de montoria. he was very angry at seeing us there, and exclaimed,-- "what are you doing here, idiots? three strong hearty men standing here with their hands folded, when there is such a lack of men for the work to be done! go along with you! clear out of here! march, you little tin soldiers! do you see those two posts there on the trenque knoll with beams crossed on top from which six ropes are hanging? do you see that gallows set up in that place for traitors? well, it's for loafers, too. get along to work, or i'll show your carcasses how to move with my fists." we followed him until we came quite near the gallows, where the six ropes were swaying commandingly in the wind, ready to strangle traitors or cowards. montoria seized his son by the arm, and pointed to the horrible apparatus with an energetic gesture, saying,-- "here you can see what we have been getting ready this evening. look! there's where those who do not do their duty will be entertained. on with you! i who am old never get tired, but you young healthy men act as if you were made of putty. the invincible men of the first siege have almost all worked themselves to death; and we old men, sirs, are obliged to set an example to these dandies who if they miss dining for a week begin to complain and beg for broth. i would give you broth of powder, and soup of cannon balls, you cowards! go, and see that you help to bury the dead and carry ammunition to the walls." "and assist at the hell which this damned epidemic is spreading," said one of those who had accompanied montoria. "i don't know what to think of this thing which the doctors call the epidemic," answered don josé. "i call it fear, sirs, pure fear. they take a chill; then they have spasms and a fever; then they turn green, and they die. what is all that but the effect of fear? our strong men all seem to be gone, yes, señors. ah, what men those were in the first siege! now when the soldiers have been firing and been fired at for a trifle of ten hours, they begin to fall down with fatigue, and say they can do no more. there's one man who had lost only a leg and a half who began screaming and calling upon all the holy martyrs, begging that they put him to bed. nothing but cowardice, pure cowardice! to-day several soldiers left palafox's battery who had a good sound arm apiece left to fight with. and they began to beg for broth! they had better drink their own blood, which is the best broth in the world. i say the race of men of courage is finished and done with, porra! a thousand porras!" "to-morrow the french will attack las tenerias," said the other. "if, as a result, there are many wounded, i don't see where we are going to put them." "wounded!" exclaimed montoria. "we don't wish to see any wounded here. the dead do not hinder us. we can pile them up in a heap; but the wounded--ugh! our soldiers are no longer fearless, and i'll wager that those who are defending the best positions will not risk seeing themselves decimated; they will abandon them as soon as they see a couple of dozen french heads above each rampart. what feebleness! after all, 'twill be as god wills, and as for the wounded and sick, we will take care of them. why not? have you taken many fowls to-day?" "several dozens, of which more than half were given, and for the rest we paid six reales and a half. a few were not willing to give." "all right. to think that a man like me should occupy himself with fowls in days like these! what's that you say? some were not willing to give? the captain-general authorized me to impose fines upon those who do not contribute to the defence. we will just gently get the law on those milksops and traitors. hark, señors! a bomb fell then in the neighborhood of the torre nueva. did you see it? did you hear it? what a horrible explosion! i'll wager that it is divine providence more than the french batteries that have sent it against the house of that petrified, soulless jew who looks on with indifference and contempt at his neighbors' distress. people are running that way. it seems that the house is on fire, or falling down. no, don't you run, you miserable fellows. let it burn, let it fall to the earth in a thousand pieces. it is the house of the miser candiola, who would not give one peseta to save the whole human race from a new deluge. eh, where are you going? you are going to run there too? no, come along. follow me! we can be of more use elsewhere." we were going in a crowd to the orphanage. augustine, impelled no doubt by the beating of his heart, suddenly started as if to direct his steps towards the plazuela san felipe, following the great crowd hastening towards that place. but detained forcibly by his father he continued, though with bad grace, in our company. something was certainly burning near the torre nueva, and on the tower the precious arabesques and bricks shone redly, because of the nearness of the fire. that graceful leaning column could be distinguished, crimson in the black night, and at the same time from its huge belfry a great lamentation fell upon the air. we reached san pablo. "go on, boys, loungers! help those who are opening the ditch. it must be wide and deep. it is a garment wherein they will enrobe forty bodies." we began upon the work, digging earth from the ditch which was being opened in the court of the church. augustine was digging with me, but at every instant he turned his eyes in the direction of the torre nueva. "it is a terrible fire. it seems as if it is going down a little, gabriel. i long to throw myself into this grave which we are opening." "don't be in a hurry," i answered him. "perhaps to-morrow will throw us into it without our asking. this is no time for foolishness; it is time to work." "do you not see? i believe that the fire is extinguished." "yes, the whole house has probably burned down. candiola was sure to be shut up in his cellar with his money, and the fire couldn't reach him. don't worry." "gabriel, i must go there, if only for a moment. i wish to see if the fire was really in his house. if my father returns, tell him that i will be back in a second." the sudden appearance of don josé de montoria prevented augustine making the flight which he had just planned, and we two continued digging in the great sepulchre. they began to bring out bodies; and the sick and wounded, who were constantly being brought from without, saw, as they were taken into the church, the wide bed which we were preparing for them. at last the ditch was sufficiently deep, and we were ordered to cease digging. the work went on, and corpses were brought, one by one, and cast into the great sepulchre, while clergymen and pious women upon their knees repeated the mournful words of the service. there was room enough for all, and nothing remained to be done for them but to cover them with earth. don josé montoria, with head uncovered, reciting in a low voice a paternoster, threw the first handful. then our shovels and spades began with all speed to cover them. our work ended, we all knelt down, and prayed in hushed tones. augustine montoria said to me when this was done,-- "we will go now. my father will march himself off. go and tell him that we are going to relieve two friends on duty who have a sick one in their family and wish us to see him. tell him, for god's sake! i haven't the courage, then in an instant we can be there." chapter xv we deceived the old man and went. the night was now far advanced, as the interment which i have just described had lasted more than three hours. the light of the fire could no longer be seen. the mass of the tower was lost in the darkness of night, and its great bell did not sound except now and then to announce the coming of a bomb. we arrived soon at the plazuela of san felipe. seeing the roof of a house near the church still smoking, we knew that it was this, and not the house of candiola, which three hours before the flames had attacked. "god has preserved it!" cried augustine, joyously. "if the meanness of her father should bring divine anger upon that roof, the virtues and innocence of mariquilla would preserve it! let us go there." in the plazuela of san felipe there were a few people, but the calle de anton trillo was deserted. we stopped close to the wall of the garden and listened attentively. all was in such deep silence that the house seemed abandoned. could it really be abandoned? although this quarter was one of those least damaged by the bombardment, many families had left it, or were living as refugees in their own cellars. "if i go in," said augustine to me, "you must come in with me. after the scene of to-day, i am afraid that don jeronimo, suspicious and cowardly, like a good miser, will be up all night and about his garden, lest they return and carry off his whole place." "in that case it is better not to go in," i answered, "because besides the danger of falling into the hands of that old scoundrel, there would be a great scandal, and all saragossa will know that the son of don josé montoria, the young man destined for a bishop's mitre, goes by night to see the daughter of the goodman candiola." but this and all that i could say to him was like preaching in the desert. without listening to reason, and insisting that i should follow him, he made the signal of love, waiting and watching with great anxiety for the reply. some time passed, and at last, after long looking and looking again from the pavement in front, we saw a light in a high window. we heard the fastening of the gate drawn back softly, and it was opened without creaking. love had taken precautions, and the ancient hinges had been oiled. we two entered meeting, unexpectedly, not a perfumed and fascinating damsel, but a vinegary countenance which i recognized at once as that of doña guedita. "he lets hours pass before he comes, and then he comes with another," she grumbled. "young men, be so kind as to make no noise. walk on tip-toe, and be careful not to stumble over even a dried leaf, because señor candiola seems to me to be very wide awake." this she said to us in a voice so low that we heard with difficulty; then she went on before, making signs that we should follow her, putting her finger to her lips to enjoin absolute silence. the garden was small. we soon crossed it, and came to the stone staircase which led up to the doorway of the house. here there came to meet us a shapely figure wrapped in a mantle, or cloak. it was mariquilla! her first gesture was to impose silence, indicating with anxiety, as i saw, a window which opened upon the garden. she then showed surprise that augustine had not come unaccompanied. but he knew how to soothe her, saying, "it is gabriel, my best, my only friend, of whom i have spoken so many times." "speak lower," whispered mariquilla; "my father went out of his room a little while ago with a lantern, and made the rounds of the house and the garden. i doubt if he is asleep yet. the night is dark. let us hide in the shadow of the cypress, and talk in a very low voice." the stone stairway led up to a kind of balcony with a wooden railing. the great cypress in the garden cast a deep shadow at the end of the balcony, forming there a refuge against the clear light of the moon. the bare boughs of an elm spread above the other end of the balcony, casting a thousand fantastic shadows upon the floor, upon the walls of the house, and upon ourselves. in the protection of the cypress, mariquilla seated herself upon the only seat that was there, and montoria threw himself upon the floor beside her, resting his hands upon her knees. i seated myself also upon the floor not far from the pair. it was a january night, still, dry, and cold. perhaps the two lovers with hearts aflame did not feel the low temperature; but i, a creature stranger to their fires, wrapped myself in my cloak to keep myself from the chill of the tiles. guedita had disappeared. mariquilla led the conversation, plunging at once into the difficulty. "i saw you in the street this morning. when guedita and i heard the noise of the people crowding about our gate, i went to the window, and i saw you on the sidewalk in front." "it is true, i was there," replied montoria, with emotion, "but i was obliged to go at once. i couldn't stand it." "didn't you see how those barbarians were trampling my father underfoot? when that cruel man struck him, i looked everywhere, hoping that you would come forward in his defence. but i did not see you anywhere." "i tell you, mariquilla of my heart," said augustine, "that i was obliged to go. after they told me that your father had been so ill-treated, i came as soon as i could get a chance." "a pretty time to come! among so many, so many people," said mariquilla, weeping, "not one lifted a hand to help him. i nearly died of fright, seeing him in such danger. i looked anxiously into the street, and there was no one but enemies, no one; not one kind hand or voice among all those men! one of them, more cruel than all, knocked my father down. oh, oh, remembering this, i scarcely know what happened next! when i saw it, my fright paralyzed me for a few moments. until then i never knew what violent anger was, how a sudden impulse, an inward fire, could drive me on. i came to him. my poor father was lying on the ground, and the wretch was trampling upon him as if he were a venomous reptile. when i saw that, i felt my blood boil in my veins. as i have told you, i ran about the house, looking for a weapon, a knife, an axe, anything. when i heard the cries of my father, i flew down. finding myself among so many men, i felt a strange, uncontrollable timidity, and could not stir a step. the same man who had kicked him handed me a fistful of gold. i did not want to take it, but i did; then i threw all the coins into his face, with all my strength. my hand was as if filled with thunderbolts, and i felt as if i were avenging my father, hurling them at that villain. i went out afterwards, looking everywhere for you; but i could not see you. i found my father alone in that inhuman crowd, down in the mud, begging for mercy." "oh, mariquilla, mariquilla of my heart!" cried augustine in anguish, kissing the hands of the unhappy daughter of the miser. "don't talk any more about all that. you tear my soul in two! i could not defend him. i--i had to go. i believed the crowd was after something--else. you are right. but let us talk no more of this which grieves me so, and gives me such bitter pain." "if you had come to the defence of my father, he would have felt gratitude towards you. from gratitude one passes readily to affection. you would have been received openly in the house." "your father is incapable of affection for any one," replied montoria. "do not hope that we can accomplish anything in that way. let us trust that we may arrive at the fulfilment of our desires by hidden ways, perhaps by the help of god when it least seems likely. let us not depend upon aught else, or think of what is before us. we are surrounded by dangers and obstacles that seem unsurmountable. let us hope for help from the unseen, and filled by faith in god and the power of our love, let us wait for the miracle which will unite us. for it will be a miracle, mariquilla, a wonder like those they tell of in olden times, that we refuse to believe." "a miracle!" exclaimed mariquilla, sadly. "it is true. you are a young gentleman of position, the son of parents who would never consent to see you married to the daughter of señor candiola. my father is abhorred all over the city. everybody flees from us. no one visits us. if i go out they point at me, and look at me with insolent contempt. girls of my own age will not associate with me, and the young men of the city who go about singing serenades under the windows of their sweethearts, come to mine to utter insults against my father, calling me also dreadful names to my face. oh, my god, i understand that it would be indeed a miracle for me to be happy! augustine, we have known each other now for nearly four months, and you have not yet told me the name of your parents. it certainly cannot be as odious as mine. why do you hide it? if it were necessary that our love should be made public, you would not dare meet the looks of your friends, you would flee with horror from the daughter of candiola." "oh, no, don't say that!" cried augustine, pressing against mariquilla, and hiding his face in her lap. "don't say that i am ashamed of loving you. in saying that you insult god. it is not true. to-day our love remains a secret, because it is necessary that it should be so. but when it is necessary to make it known, i will make it known, and defy the anger of my father face to face. yes, mariquilla, my parents will curse me, and turn me out of doors. a few nights ago you said to me, looking at that monument which we can see from here, 'when that tower becomes straight, i will leave off loving you.' i swear to you that the strength of my love is more immovable than the equilibrium of yonder tower; for that could fall to the ground, but could never stand upright. the works of man are variable, those of nature are unchangeable and rest evermore upon an everlasting base. you have seen the moncayo, that great rock which is near poniente in the suburb? well, when moncayo gets tired of being in that place, and moves and comes walking towards saragossa, putting one of its feet upon our city and reducing it to powder, then and then only will i cease to love you." by this sort of hyperbole and poetic naturalism my friend expressed his great love, flattering the imagination of the beautiful girl, who responded, leaning forward, moved by an impulse like his own. they were both silent for a moment, then the two, or rather the three of us, exclaimed all together, looking at the tower whose belfry had flung to the winds two signals of alarm. at the same moment a globe of fire ploughed the black space, describing rapid circles. "a bomb! it is a bomb," exclaimed mariquilla, trembling, and throwing herself into the arms of her lover. the dreadful light passed swiftly over our heads, over the garden and the house, illuminating on its way the tower, the neighboring houses, and the nook where we were hidden. then the report was heard. the bell began to ring violently, and was joined by others near and far, loud, heavy, sharp, jangled; and we heard the noise of feet and voices of people in the nearest streets. "that bomb will not kill us," said augustine, soothing his sweetheart. "are you afraid?" "yes, very, very much afraid," she answered. "i spend the nights praying, asking god to keep the fire away from our house. until now no misfortune has come near us, either now or in the other siege. but how many unhappy ones have perished, how many houses of good people who never harmed any one have been destroyed by the flames! i long earnestly to go like other women and take care of the suffering; but my father forbids me, and is angry with me whenever i propose it." as she said this, we heard within the house a distant sound of talking, in which the harsh tones of candiola were mingled with the voice of guedita. we three, obeying one impulse, drew into the shadow and held our breaths, fearing to be surprised. then we heard the voice of the miser coming nearer, and saying,-- "what are you doing up at this hour, señora guedita?" "señor," answered the old woman, showing herself at a window which opened upon the balcony, "who can sleep during this dreadful bombardment? perhaps a bomb may come and meddle with us here. what if the house should take fire, and the neighbors should come to drag out the furniture and put out the fire, and find us in our night-clothes? oh, what a lack of modesty! i do not intend to undress myself while this devilish bombardment lasts." "is my daughter asleep?" asked candiola, appearing at another garden window. "she is upstairs sleeping like a kitten," replied the duenna. "they speak truly when they say that there are no dangers for innocence. a bomb does not frighten the child any more than a sky-rocket." "i wonder if i can see from here where the projectile has fallen," said candiola, stretching his body out of the window, in order to be able to extend his range of vision. "i can see the light of a fire, but i cannot say whether it is near or far." "oh, i don't know anything about bombs," said guedita, who had come out on the balcony. "this one has fallen over there by the market." "so it seems. if only all would fall upon the houses of those who persist in keeping up the defence and causing the destruction! if i am not deceived, señora guedita, the fire is near the calle de la triperia. are not the storehouses of the junta of supplies over there? oh, blessed bomb, why not fall into the calle de la hilarza, upon the house of that cursed, most miserable thief! señora guedita, i am going to the calle de la hilarza, to see if it has fallen on the house of that proud, meddlesome, cowardly thief, don josé de montoria. i have prayed for it to-night to the virgin del pilar with so much fervor, and also at the santas masas and at santo dominguito del val, that at last i believe i have been heard." "señor don jeronimo," said the old woman, "do not go out! the cold of the night is bad for you, and it is not worth risking your lungs to see where the bomb has fallen. it is enough that it has not meddled with this house. if that one which passed did not fall into the house of that barbarian of an official, another will fall to-morrow. the french have a good handful. now, your honor, go to rest. i will stay up and look after the house." candiola changed his mind about going out, it seemed, in accordance with the good counsels of his servant, and, shutting the window, he was heard no more during all the rest of the night. but although he disappeared, the lovers did not break the silence, fearful of being overheard. and not until the old woman came to tell us that the señor was snoring like a peasant was the interrupted dialogue continued. "my father wished that the bombs would fall upon the house of his enemy," said mariquilla. "i should not like to see them fall anywhere; but if at any time one could wish ill-fortune to a neighbor, it would be now, do you not think so?" augustine made no answer. "you went away. you did not see how that man, the most cruel, the most cowardly of all who came, knocked him down in his blind fury, and trampled upon him. the fiends will kick his soul in hell like that, won't they?" "yes," replied the young man, laconically. "to-day, after it all, guedita and i dressed the wounds of my father. he was stretched upon his bed, crazy, desperate. he was twisting about, gnawing his fists and lamenting that he was not stronger than his enemy. we tried to console him, but he told us to be silent. he struck me in the face, he was so angry when he heard that i had thrown away the money for the flour. he was furious with me. he told me that since he could not get any more, the three thousand reales on account should not be despised. he said that i am a spendthrift, and am ruining him. we could not calm him in any way. towards nightfall we heard another noise in the street, and were afraid that the same ones who were here in the middle of the day were returning. my father was raging, and determined to get up. i was greatly frightened; but i took courage, realizing that courage was necessary. thinking of you, i said, 'if he were in the house, no one would dare insult us.' as the noise in the street increased, i plucked up all my courage. i shut and fastened the doors and gates, and, begging my father to keep quiet in his bed, i waited, resolved. while guedita was on her knees, praying to all the saints in heaven, i searched the house for a weapon. at last i found a big knife. the sight of it has always frightened me, but to-day i clutched it fearlessly. oh, i was beside myself! now the very thought of it makes me frightened. i am usually unable to look upon a wounded man, and tremble at the sight of a drop of blood. i almost cry if i see any one beat a dog before me. i have never had the force to kill a mosquito. but this evening, augustine, this evening, when i heard the noise in the street, when i thought those blows upon the gate had come again, when i expected every moment to see those men before me, i swear to you that if that had happened which i feared, if when i was in my father's room, by his bedside, if that same man had come who abused him a few hours before, i swear to you that there i myself would have struck him through the heart." "hush, for god's sake!" cried montoria, horrified. "you frighten me. hearing you, you almost make me feel as if your own hands, these divine hands, struck cold steel through my breast. nobody will maltreat your father again. you see already that your alarm of to-night was nothing but fright. no, you would not have been capable of what you say. you are a woman, and a weak one, sensitive, timid, incapable of killing a man, unless you kill him of love. the knife would have fallen from your hands, and you would not have stained their purity with the blood of a fellow being. these horrible things are only for us men, born for conflict; sometimes we find ourselves in the sad strait of wrenching the life from other men. mariquilla, do not talk any more nonsense. do not think of those who offended you! forgive them, and do not kill any one, even in thought." chapter xvi while they were talking, i observed the face of mariquilla, which seemed in the darkness as if modelled of white wax, and of the soft tone and finish of ivory. from her black eyes, whenever she raised them to the heavens, swift lights flashed; her black pupils seemed to reflect the clearness of the sky; in their depths two points of brightness shone or were hidden, according to the changeful mood expressed in her glance. it was curious to observe the passionate creature telling of that stormy crisis which had moved and exalted her sensibilities to the heights of courage. her languorous attitude, her dove-like cooing, the warm affection which radiated in her atmosphere, did not associate themselves readily with manifestations of heroism in defence of her insulted father. attentive observation easily discovered that both currents flowed from the same source. "i admire your noble filial affection," said augustine. "but you must think of this. i do not exonerate those who maltreated your father. but you must not forget that he is the only one who has not given anything for the war. don jeronimo is an excellent person, but he has not an atom of patriotism in his soul. the misfortunes of the city are of no consequence to him, and he even seems to rejoice when we do not come out victorious." mariquilla sighed, lifting her eyes to heaven. "it is true," she said; "every day and every hour i beseech him to give something for the war. i am able to get nothing; although i exaggerate the necessities of the poor soldiers, and the bad record that he is making in saragossa. he only gets angry with me, and says that the one who brought on the war is the one to pay for it. in the other siege i was delighted at news of a victory. the fourth of august i went out into the street all alone, unable to resist my curiosity. one night i was at the house of the urries, and they were celebrating the battle of that day, which had been very brilliant. i also began to rejoice, and show enthusiasm. an old woman who was present said to me in a high voice, and a very unpleasant tone, 'my child, instead of indulging in these emotions, why do you not carry to the hospital an old sheet to stanch blood? in the house of señor candiola, whose cellars are full of money, is there not some old rag to give to the wounded? your miserable papa is the only one, the only one of all the citizens of saragossa who has not given anything for the war.' everybody laughed on hearing this; but i was dumb with shame, not daring to speak. i remained in a corner of the room until the end of the party, and nobody spoke another word to me. my few girl friends who used to love me so much did not come near me. i could hear people speak from time to time the name of my father, with harsh comments and ugly nicknames. oh, it was heartbreaking! when i started to come home, they hardly told me good-bye. the host and hostess dismissed me very abruptly. i came home and went to bed, and cried all night. the shame of it seemed burning in my blood." "mariquilla," cried augustine, lovingly, "your goodness is so great that because of it god will forget the cruelties of your father." "a few days afterwards," she went on, "on the fourth of august, those two wounded men came that my father's enemy spoke of this morning. when we heard that the committee had assigned two wounded men to our house to be taken care of, guedita and i were delighted, and, wild with pleasure, began to prepare beds, bandages, and lint. we were waiting for them anxiously, running to the window every minute to see if they were coming. at last they came. my father, who had just come in from the street in a very black mood, complaining that many of his debtors had been killed, losing him all hope of collecting from them, received the wounded soldiers very badly. i embraced him, weeping, and begged him to take them in; but he would not listen to me and in his blind anger, he pushed them down into the gutter, barred the door, and went upstairs, saying, 'let their own parents take care of them!' it was night. guedita and i were in perfect despair. we did not know what to do. we could hear the moans of those two poor fellows, dragging themselves along in the street, begging for help. my father shut himself up in his room to make up his accounts, caring nothing for them or for us. we went softly, so that he would not hear us, to the front window, and threw them cloths for bandages; but they could not reach them. we spoke to them, and they held out their hands to us. we fastened a little basket to the end of a cane, and passed them out some food; but one of them was dying, and the other suffering so much that he could not eat. we said what we could to encourage them, and prayed to god for them. at last we resolved to come down and go out to help them, if only for a moment. my father caught us here in the balcony, and was furious. that night, what a night! o holy virgin! one of them died in the street, and the other one dragged himself on to find pity elsewhere." augustine and i were silent, reflecting upon the monstrous contradictions of that house. "mariquilla," my friend said, presently, "how proud i am of loving you! saragossa does not know your heart of gold, and it must be known. i wish to tell the whole world that i love you, and prove to my parents when they know it that i have made a good choice." "i am like any other girl," said mariquilla, with humility; "and your parents will not see in me anything but the daughter of the one whom they call the mallorcan jew. oh, the shame kills me! i wish i could go away from saragossa, somewhere that i could never again see any of these people. my father came from palma, it is true; but he is not a jew. he is descended from the old christians; and my mother was a woman of aragon, of the rincon family. why are we despised? what have we done?" mariquilla's lips quivered in a half disdainful smile. augustine, tormented doubtless by painful feeling, remained silent, his brow leant upon the hands of his sweetheart. gruesome shapes of dread raised themselves threateningly between them. with the eyes of the soul he and she beheld them, filled with fear. after a long pause, augustine lifted his face. "mariquilla, why are you silent? tell me." "why are you silent, augustine?" "what are you thinking about?" "what are you thinking about?" "i am thinking that god will protect us," said the young man. "when the siege is ended, we will marry. if you wish to leave saragossa, i will go with you wherever you wish to go. has your father ever spoken to you of marriage?" "never." "he shall not prevent your marrying me. my parents will oppose it; but my mind is made up. i do not understand life except through you, and if i lost you i could not exist. you are the supreme necessity of my soul. without you i should be like the universe without light. no human power shall separate us as long as you love me. this conviction is so rooted in me that if i should ever think that we must be separated in life, it would be to me as if all nature were overthrown. _i_ without _you!_ that seems to me the wildest of ideas. i without you! what madness, what absurdity! it is like the sea on the top of the mountains, like the snow in the depths of the ocean. it is like rivers running through the sky, and the stars made into fiery powder in the deserts of the earth. it is as if the trees should talk, and man should live among metals and precious stones in the bowels of the earth. i am a coward at times, and i tremble, thinking of the obstacles that seem overwhelming before us; but the confidence that fills my spirit, like faith in holy things, reanimates me. if sometimes for a moment i fear death, afterwards a secret voice tells me that i shall not die as long as you are alive. do you see all the destruction made by the siege which we are enduring? do you see how the bombs and shells shower about us, and how numbers of my companions fall never to rise? yet, except momentarily, none of this causes me any fear. i believe that the virgin del pilar keeps death away from me. your sensitiveness keeps you in constant communion with the angels of heaven. you are an angel of heaven, and loving you and being loved by you gives me a divine power against which the forces of man avail nothing." augustine went on for a long time in this strain, pouring out from his over-flowing fancy the love and the superstitions which held him in thrall. "indeed, i too have unchanging confidence, as you say," said mariquilla. "i am often afraid that you will be killed; but i know not what voices i hear in the depths of my soul telling me that they will not kill you. it may be because i pray so much, pleading with god to preserve your life among all these horrors and in battle. i do not know. at night when i go to rest, thinking of the bombs that have fallen, and those that are falling, and those that will fall, i go to sleep and dream of battle, and never cease hearing the noise of cannon. i am very restless, and guedita, who sleeps near me, says that i talk in my sleep, saying a thousand mad things. i must certainly say something, for i am always dreaming. i see you on the wall. i talk with you, and you answer me. the balls do not touch you; and it seems to me it is because of the prayers i say for you, waking and sleeping. a few nights ago i dreamed that i went with other girls to take care of the wounded, and that we were taking care of a great many, almost bringing them back to life by what we were doing for them. i dreamed that when i came back to the house i found you here with your father, an old man, who was smiling and talking with mine, both seated upon the sofa in the sala. then i dreamed that your father smiled at me, and began to ask me questions. sometimes i dream sad things. when i am awake i listen, and if i do not hear the noise of the bombardment, i ask if it can be that the french have raised the siege. if i hear a cannonading, i look at the image of the virgin del pilar which is in my room, and i question it in thought, and it answers me that you are not dead, without my knowing how the answer is given. i spend the day thinking about the ramparts, and i wait at the window to hear what the soldiers say who pass by in the street. sometimes i feel tempted to ask them if they have seen you. night comes; i see you again, and i am, oh, so contented! the next day guedita and i occupy ourselves in cooking something good, unknown to my father. if it is successful, we save it for you; if it is not quite so nice, that little friar called father busto takes it to the wounded and sick. he comes after dark to get it, on the pretext of visiting doña guedita, of whom he is a kinsman. we ask him how goes the battle, and he tells us all about it, that the troops are performing deeds of great valor, and the french will be obliged to retire in good time. this news that all goes well makes us wild with joy. the noise of the bombs saddens us afterwards, but praying we recover our tranquillity. alone in our room at night, we make lint and bandages which father busto also takes secretly, as if they were stolen goods. if we hear my father's steps, we hide it all quickly, and put out the light, because if he should find out what we are doing he would be very angry." mariquilla smiled almost gayly as she told of her fears and joys with divine simplicity. the peculiar charm of her voice is indescribable. her words, like the vibration of crystal notes, left a harmonious echo in the soul. as she ceased speaking, the first splendors of dawn illuminated her face. "the day is breaking, mariquilla," said augustine, "and we must go. to-day we are going to defend las tenerias. this will be a dreadful day, and many will be killed. but the virgin del pilar will protect us, and we shall live to rejoice in victory. mariquilla, the balls will not touch me." "do not go yet," replied the daughter of candiola. "day is coming, it is true; but they do not need you yet upon the walls." the bell in the tower sounded. "look how those birds cruise about in the heavens, announcing the dawn," said augustine, with bitter irony. one, two, three bombs traversed the sky, as yet faintly illumined. "how frightful!" cried mariquilla, yielding to the embrace of montoria. "will god keep us to-day as he preserved us yesterday?" "we must go to the walls," i cried, rising quickly. "do you not hear all the drums and bells sounding the call to arms?" mariquilla, in indescribable panic, was weeping and trying to detain montoria. i was resolved on going at once, and endeavored to take him away with me. the noise of the drums and the bells in the belfries of the city were sounding the call to arms. and if we did not rush instantly into the lines, we ran the risk of being shot or arrested. "i must go, i must go, mariquilla," said my friend, with profound emotion. "are you afraid? no, this house is sacred because you live in it, and will be respected by the enemy's fire. god will not visit your father's cruelty upon your sacred head." the doña guedita appeared abruptly, saying that her master was up and dressing hastily. then mariquilla herself hurried us to the foot of the garden, ordering us to go at once. augustine was in anguish, and at the gate, hesitated and stepped backward as if to return to the side of the unhappy girl, who, half dead of fright, her hands folded in prayer, was weeping, seeing us go from where she stood in the shade of the cypress which had sheltered us. at the moment when we opened the gate, a cry was heard from the upper part of the house, and we saw candiola, who, half-dressed, was leaning out in a threatening attitude. augustine wished to turn back; but i forced him forward, and we went. "to the lines! to the lines, at once!" i cried. "they will degrade us, augustine! leave your future father-in-law to deal with your future wife for the present." we ran swiftly into the coso, where we saw that innumerable bombs were being hurled upon the unhappy city. everybody ran as fast as possible to the various positions of defence,--some to las tenerias, some to the portillo, some to santa engracia or to the trinitarios. as we arrived at the arch of cineja, we stumbled upon don josé de montoria, who, followed by some of his friends, was running towards the almudi. in the same moment a terrible crash behind us proclaimed that one of the enemy's projectiles had fallen upon a neighboring residence. augustine, hearing this, turned back, longing to return to the place from whence we came. "where are you going, porra!" cried his father, detaining him. "to the tenerias! make haste! to the tenerias!" the people who were coming and going knew the place of the disaster, and we heard them saying,-- "three bombs have fallen close to the house of candiola." "the angels of heaven certainly aimed those guns," laughed don josé de montoria, noisily. "we shall see how the mallorcan jew keeps them off, if he is still alive till he puts his money in a place of safety." "let us run and rescue those unfortunate beings!" cried augustine, with emotion. "to the lines, cowards!" said his father, holding him with an iron hand. "that is the work of women; men must die in the breach." it was necessary to make haste to our places, and we went, or rather we were carried by the impetuous surge of the people running to defend the suburb of las tenerias. chapter xvii while the cannons on the mediodia were throwing bombs into the centre of the city, the cannon on the east side were discharging solid balls upon the weak walls of las monicas, and the fortifications of earth and brick of the oil mill, and the battery of palafox. very soon the french opened three great breaches, and an attack was imminent. they defended themselves in the goicoechea mill, which they had taken the day before, after it had been abandoned and fired by us. certain of victory, the french ran forward over the plain, having received orders to attack. our battalion occupied a house in the calle de pabostre, whose walls had been spiked along their whole length. many peasants and various regiments were keeping watch in the cortina, fiery of courage and with not the least terror before the almost certain likelihood of death, hopeful of being useful in death also, helping to stay the enemy's advance. long hours passed. the french questioned with the artillery to see if they were driving us out of the suburb; the walls were gradually being destroyed; the houses were being shaken down with the dreadful concussion; and the heroic people, few of whom had broken fast even with a bit of bread, were calling from the walls, saying that the enemy was coming. at last, against the right of the breach in the centre advanced strong columns sustained by others in the rear. we saw that the intention of the french was to possess themselves at all hazards of that line of crumbling bricks which some hundreds of madmen were defending, and to take it at any cost. death-dealing masses were hurled forward, the living columns passing over the dead. let it not be said to make our merit less that the french were not fighting under cover. neither were we, for none of us could show his head above the broken wall and keep it on. masses of men dashed against one another, and bayonets were fed with brutal anger upon the bodies of enemies. from the houses came incessant fire. we could see the french fall in heaps, pierced by lead and steel, at the very foot of the ruins they were seeking to conquer. new columns took the places of the first, and in those who came after, brutalities of vengeance were added to prodigies of valor. on our side the number of those who fell was enormous. the dead were left by dozens upon the earth along that line which had been a wall, but was now no more than a shapeless mass of earth, bricks, and corpses. the natural, the human thing would have been to abandon such positions, and not try to hold them against such a combination of force and military skill. but there was nothing of the human or the natural here. instead, the power of defence was extended infinitely, to limits not recognized by scientific calculation, beyond ordinary valor. the aragonese nature stood forth, and it is one which does not know how to be conquered. the living took the places of the dead with a sublime aplomb. death was an accident, a trivial detail, a thing of which no notice should be taken. while this was going on, other columns equally powerful were trying to take the casa de gonzalez, which i have before mentioned. but from the neighboring houses, and the towers of the wall, came such a terrible fire of rifles and cannons that they desisted from their attempt. other attacks took place, with better results for them, at our right, toward the orchard of camporeal and the batteries of los martires. the immense force displayed by the besiegers along one line of short extent could not fail to produce results. from the house in the calle de pabostre, close to the molino of the city, we were, as i have said, firing upon the besiegers, when behold the batteries of san josé, formerly occupied in demolishing the wall, directed their cannons against that ancient edifice. we felt that the walls were trembling; the beams were cracking like the timbers of a ship tossed by a tempest; the wood of the walls was cracking too in a thousand fragments. in short, the place was tumbling down. "cuerno, recuerno!" exclaimed uncle garces, "what if the house falls down upon us!" the smoke of the powder prevented us from seeing what was going on without or within. "to the street! to the street!" cried pirli, throwing himself out of a window. "augustine! augustine! where art thou?" i called to my friend. but augustine did not appear. in that moment of alarm, not finding either doorway or ladder to descend, i ran to a window to throw myself out; and the spectacle which met my eyes obliged me to draw back without strength or breath. while the cannons of san josé were essaying on the right to bury us in the ruins of the house, and seemed to be accomplishing it without effort, in front of and towards the gardens of san augustine, the french infantry had succeeded at last in penetrating the breaches, killing those unhappy creatures scarcely to be called men, and finishing those who were already dying, for indeed their desperate agony could not be called life. from the neighboring alleys came a horrible fire. the cannons of the calle de diezma took the place of those of the conquered battery. but the breach taken, the french were securing themselves on the walls. it was impossible for me to feel in my soul a spark of energy on beholding such stupendous disaster. i fled from the window, terrified,--beside myself. a piece of the wall cracked and fell in enormous fragments, and a square window took the shape of an isosceles triangle; through a corner of the roof i could see the sky. bits of lime and splinters struck me in the face. i ran further in, following others, who were saying, "this way! this way!" "augustine! augustine!" i called again. at last i saw him among those who were running from one room to another, going up a ladder which led to a garret. "are you alive?" i asked him. "i do not know; it is not important," he answered. in the garret we broke through a partition wall, and passing into another room, we found an outside staircase. we descended and came to another house. some soldiers followed, looking for a place to get into the street, and others remained there. the picture of that poor little room is indelibly fixed in my memory, with all its lines and colors, and flooded with plentiful light from a large window, opened upon the street. portraits of the virgin and of the saints covered the uneven walls. two or three old trunks covered with goat-skin stood on one side. on the other side we saw a woman's clothes hanging upon hooks and nails, and a very high but poor-looking bed, although the sheets were fresh. in the window were three large flower-pots with plants in them. sheltered behind them were two women firing furiously upon the french who occupied the breach. they had two guns. one was charging, the other firing. the one who was firing had been stooping to aim from behind the flower-pots. resting the trigger a minute, she lifted her head a little to look at the field of battle. "manuela sancho," i exclaimed, placing my hand upon the head of the heroic girl, "resistance is no longer of any use. the next house is already destroyed by the batteries of san josé, and the balls are already beginning to fall upon the roof of this. let us go." she took no notice, and went on shooting. at last the house, which was even less able than its neighbor to sustain the shock of the projectiles, quivered as if the earth trembled beneath its foundations. manuela sancho threw down her gun. she and the woman who was with her ran into an alcove, where i heard them crying bitterly. entering, we found the two girls embracing an old crippled woman who was trying to get up from her bed. "mother, it is nothing," manuela said soothingly, covering her with whatever came first to her hand; "we are only going into the street because it seems as if the house is going to fall down." the old woman did not speak. she could not speak. the two girls had taken her in their arms; but we took her in ours, charging them to bring our guns and whatever clothing they could save. we passed out into a court which opened into another street where the fire had not yet reached. chapter xviii the french had taken possession also of the battery of los martires. that same afternoon they were masters of the ruins of santa engracia and the convent of trinitarios. is it conceivable that the defence of one plaza continued after all that surrounded it was taken? no, it is not conceivable; nor in all military prevision has it ever been supposed that after the enemy had gained the walls by irresistible superiority of material strength, the houses would offer new lines of defence improvised on the initiative of every citizen. it is not conceivable that one house taken, a veritable siege must necessarily be organized to take the next one, employing the spade, the mine, the bayonet,--devising an ingenious stratagem against a partition wall. it is not conceivable that one part of a pavement being taken, it would be necessary to pass opposite to it to put into execution the theories of vauban, and that to cross a gutter it would be necessary to make trenches, zig-zags, and covered ways. the french generals put their hands to their brows, saying, "this is not like anything that we have ever seen. in the glorious annals of the empire one finds many passages like this: 'we have entered spandau. to-morrow we shall be in berlin.' that which had not yet been written was this: 'after two days and two nights of fighting, we have taken house no. in the calle de pabostre. we do not know when we shall be able to take no. .'" we had no time for rest. the two cannons that raked the calle de pabostre and the angle of the puerta quemada were left entirely without men. some of us ran to serve them, and the rest occupied houses in the calle de palomar. the french stopped firing against the buildings which had been abandoned, repairing them and occupying them as rapidly as they could. they stopped up holes with beams, gravel, and sacks of wool. as they could not traverse without risk the space between their new quarters and the crumbling walls, they commenced to open a ditch and zig-zag from the molino of the city to the house which we had occupied, and of which now only the lowest story offered any lodgment. we knew that when once masters of that house they would try, by tearing down partition walls, to gain possession of the whole block. in order to prevent this, the troops which we could spare were distributed through all the buildings in danger of such attack. at the same time our troops were raising barricades at the entrances of the streets, availing themselves of the rubbish and fragments in their work. we toiled with frenzied ardor in these various tasks. the fighting was least difficult of all. from inside the houses we threw down over the balconies all the furniture and movables. we carried the wounded outside, leaving the dead to the same fate as the buildings. indeed, the only funeral honors that we could pay them was to leave them where they would not be disturbed. the french worked also to gain santa monica, the convent situated in a line with las tenerias, a little to the north of the calle de pabostre; but its walls offered a strong resistance, and it was not as easy to take as the fragile houses which the booming of the cannon caused to tremble. the volunteers of huesca defended it vigorously; and, after repeated attacks, the besiegers left the assault for another day. having gained possession only of a few houses, they remained in them when night came, like rabbits in a warren. woe to the head that appeared at a window! the neighboring walls, the roofs, the skylights were filled with attentive eyes that saw the least carelessness of a french soldier, and guns were ready for him. when night came, we began to make holes in the partition walls in order to open communication between all the houses in the same block. in spite of the incessant noise of the cannon, we could hear within the buildings the picks of the enemy occupied in the same sort of work as ourselves. as the architecture was fragile, and almost all the partition walls were of earth, we had in a short time opened passages between many houses. about ten o'clock at night, we found ourselves in one which we knew must be very near that of manuela sancho, when we heard, through unknown conduits, through cellars and subterranean passages, a sound which we realized must be the voices of the enemy. a terrified woman came up a ladder and told us that the french were opening a gap in the wall of the room below. we descended instantly. we were not yet all in the cold, narrow, dark place, when at its mouth a gun was fired at us, and one of our companions was slightly wounded in the shoulder. by the dim light we perceived several figures that forced their way into the room, and, advancing, fired, while others came behind. at the noise of gunshots, our friends hurried down to us, and we penetrated boldly into the dark place. the enemy did not remain in it, and as swiftly as possible hurried back through the hole they had opened in the wall, seeking refuge in the place whence they had come. we sent some balls after them. we were not completely in darkness, as they had a lantern some of whose feeble rays came through the aperture diffusing a reddish light over the theatre of the struggle. i have never seen anything like it, nor did i ever behold a combat between four black walls by the faint light of a lantern that cast flickering shadows like spectres around us. the light was prejudicial to the french; for we were on the safe, dark side of the hole, and they were good targets for us. we shot at them for a short time, and two of our comrades fell, dead or badly wounded, upon the damp earth. in spite of this disaster, others came to push the advantage, assaulting the hole in the wall and penetrating into the enemy's den. but although fire had ceased there, it seemed as if the enemy were preparing for a better attack. suddenly the lantern went out, and we were left in black darkness. we looked about for the way out, and stumbled against one another. this state of things, together with the fear of being attacked by superior forces, or that they would hurl shells into that sepulchre, made us huddle confusedly into the outer court as soon as we found the way. we took time, nevertheless, to find our two comrades who had fallen during the fray; then we went out and shut up the aperture with stones and rubbish and planks and barrels, whatever came to our hands in the court-yard. on going up, our commander detailed men in different parts of the house, leaving a couple of sentinels in the court to listen to the blows of the hostile pick. he sent me out with others to bring in a little food, of which we were all much in need. in the street it seemed to us that we had come from a tranquil position into a very hell, for now in the dead of night the firing was continued between the houses and the walls. the clearness of the moonlight made it easy to run from one point to another without stumbling, and the streets were constantly traversed by bodies of troops and peasants who were going where, according to the public voice, there was some real danger. many, not in the lines, guided by their own instincts, ran here and there, firing whenever opportunity offered. the bells of all the churches sounded a mournful call, and at each step we encountered groups of women carrying the wounded. in all directions, especially at the extremities of the streets that ended at the walls of las tenerias, bodies were seen stacked up in piles, the wounded mingled with those already corpses. it was not possible to tell from which mouths came the pitiful voices that implored aid. i have never seen such horrible suffering. i was impressed more than by the spectacle of the disasters caused by iron and steel, seeing many who were suffering from the epidemic lying on the doorsteps of the houses, or dragging themselves through the throng in search of a safe place. they were dying every moment without having a sign of a wound upon them. their teeth chattered with the dreadful chill, and they begged for help, holding out their hands because they could not speak. in addition to all this, hunger was demoralizing us. we could scarcely stand. "where shall we ever find something to eat?" augustine asked me. "who is going to see about that?" "this thing must end soon in one way or the other," i answered; "either the city will surrender, or we shall all perish." at last, near the coso, we met some of the commissary who were dealing out rations. we took ours eagerly, taking also all that we could carry for our comrades. they received it with a great racket, and a sort of joviality inappropriate to the circumstances. but the spanish soldier is and always has been like that. while they were eating some crusts of bread as hard as cobble-stones, the unanimous opinion spread through the battalion that saragossa never would surrender, and never should surrender. it was midnight when the firing dwindled down. the french had not conquered a hand's breadth of earth more than the houses they had occupied at sunset, although they were not to be driven out of the quarters they had taken. this was left for the days that followed. when the influential men of the city, the montorias, the ceresos, the sases, the salameros, and the san clementes were returning to las monicas, the scene that night of great prodigies of valor, they showed such tremendous courage and uttered such contempt of the enemy that it roused the spirits of all who saw and heard them. "little has been accomplished to-night," said montoria. "our men have been a bit remiss. it is true that it was not possible to drive them all out, nor ought we to have come out into the open, though the french attacked us with little energy. i have seen a few defeats, nothing of consequence. the nuns have beaten up plenty of oil with wine, and now it is only a question of binding up a few wounds. if there were time, it would be well to bury the dead in this heap, but there will be more presently. the epidemic is getting hold of more men. they need rubbing. plenty of rubbing is what i believe in. for the present, they can very well go without broth. broth is an unpleasant beverage. i would give them a dose of spirits. in a little while they would be able to handle a gun. well, sirs, the fiesta appears to be over for to-night. let us take a nap for half an hour, and to-morrow,--to-morrow, i have a notion that the french will make a formal attack upon us." he turned to his son, who had come up with me, and cried out,-- "oh, my augustine, i have been asking for you, because in such a battle as to-day it happens that some must die. are you wounded? you have nothing the matter? let us see, a little gun-scratch? ah, a trifle! it strikes me that you have scarcely borne yourself like a montoria. and you, araceli, have you lost any legs? not even that! the two of you have just come out from some good shelter, i should say. you have not even turned a hair. it's a bad business. i call you a pair of hens! go, rest awhile, not more than a hand's shake. if you feel yourselves attacked by the epidemic, rubbing and plenty of it is the best thing. well, sirs, we depend upon it that to-morrow these houses will be defended wall by wall, partition by partition. the same thing will go on in every part of the city, and in every alcove there will be a battle. let us go to the captain-general, and see if palafox agrees with us. there is no other way,--either to deliver the city to them, or to dispute each brick as if it were a treasure. we will tire them out. to-day six or eight thousand men have perished. now let us go and see that most excellent señor don josé. good-night, boys, and to-morrow try and manage to shake off your cowardice." "let us go and sleep a little," i said to my friend. "let us come to a house where i have seen some mattresses." "i cannot sleep," said montoria, walking on along the coso. "i know where you are going. we are not permitted to go as far as that, augustine." many men and women were running up and down, back and forth in the broad avenue. all of a sudden a woman came running swiftly to us and embraced augustine, speechless, deep emotion choking her. "mariquilla, mariquilla of my heart!" exclaimed montoria, embracing her joyously. "how is it that you are here? i was just now going in search of you." mariquilla could not speak, and, without the sustaining arm of her lover, her weak and wavering body would have fallen to the ground. "are you ill? what is the matter? is it true that the bombs have destroyed your house?" it was even so, and the young girl's whole aspect showed her great distress. her clothing was that which we saw on her the night before. her hair was loosened, and we could see burns upon her poor bruised arms. "yes," she said, at last, in a stifled voice. "our house is gone. we have nothing. we have lost everything. this morning, soon after you had gone, a bomb destroyed the house, then two others fell." "and your father?" "my father is there, and will not abandon the ruins of the house. i have been looking for you all day, for you to help us. i have been under fire. i have been in all the streets of the suburb. i have entered several houses. i was afraid that you were dead." augustine seated himself in a gateway, and, sheltering mariquilla with his military cloak, he held her in his arms as one holds a child. freed thus from her terror, she could talk; and she told us that she had not been able to save a single thing. they had scarcely had time to get out of the house. the unhappy girl was trembling with cold, and, putting my cloak over augustine's, we tried to take her to the house where we were on duty. "no," she said, "i must go back to my father. he is wild and desperate, and is uttering blasphemies against god and the saints. i have not been able to get him away from that which was our house. we are in need of food. the neighbors were not willing to give us anything. if you are not willing to take me there, i will go alone." "no, mariquilla, no. you shall not go there," said montoria. "we will put you in one of these houses where at least for to-night you will be safe. in the mean time gabriel shall go in search of your father, and take him something to eat, and by persuasion or by force will get him away from there." mariquilla insisted upon returning to the calle de anton trillo. but as she scarcely had strength to move, we took her in our arms to a house in the calle de los clavos, where manuela sancho was. chapter xix the firing of the guns and cannon ceased. a great splendor was illumining the city. it was the burning of the audiencia. the fire, beginning about midnight, was devouring all four sides of that splendid edifice at one time. without heeding anything but my errand, i hurried to the calle de anton trillo. the house of candiola had been burning all day. at last the flame had been stifled by pieces of falling roofs, and between the portions of walls still standing issued black columns of smoke. through the window-frames showed patches of sky, and the bricks, crumbling away, had made a ragged-toothed looking thing of that which had been an architrave. part of the wall which fronted on the garden had fallen down over the balcony, covering the end where the railing and the stone stairway had been, its stones spreading forward to the street wall. in the midst of these ruins the cypress stood unharmed, like the life which remains when the substance is gone. it raised its black head like a memorial. the gate had been destroyed by the axes of those who had rushed up at first to try to put out the fire. when i penetrated into the garden, i saw some people at the right and near the grating of a lower window. it was the part of the house which was best preserved. and, indeed, the lower floor had suffered little, perhaps nothing; the bulging out of the roof of the principal part had not affected this, although it was to be expected that it would give way sooner or later under the great weight. i approached the group to find candiola. he was there, seated close to the grating with his hands crossed, his head upon his breast, his clothing torn and burned. he was surrounded by a little crowd of women and boys, who were buzzing about him like bees, pouring forth the whole gamut of insults and taunts. it cost me no great trouble to put the swarm to flight; and although they did not all go far away, and persisted in hanging about, thinking to get a chance at the gold of the rich candiola, he was at least freed from the annoyance of their immediate presence, and the sneers and cruel jests with which he had been tormented. "señor soldier," he said to me, "i am grateful to you for putting this vile mob to flight. here my house is burned and no one helps me. are there no authorities now in saragossa, señor? what a people! what a people! it is not because we have not paid our taxes." "the civil authorities do not occupy themselves except with the military operations," i answered him; "and so many houses have been destroyed that it is impossible to run to them all." "may he be cursed a thousand times!" he cried, "a thousand curses be on the head of him who has brought all this distress upon us! may he be tormented in hell for a thousand eternities, and then he would not pay the penalty of his crime. but what the devil are you looking for here, señor soldier? are you not willing to leave me in peace?" "i have come in search of señor candiola," i replied, "in order to take him where he can be looked after, have his wounds dressed, and be given a little food." "for me? i will not leave my house," he cried in a sad voice. "the committee will have to rebuild it for me. where do you want to take me? i am in the situation now to be offered alms. my enemies have their will, which was to put me in the position of begging alms. but i shall not beg, no. i will sooner eat my own flesh and drink my own blood than humble myself before those who have brought me to such a state. perhaps they have sold themselves to the french, and prolong the resistance to earn their money. then they will deliver the city, and they will be all right." "do leave all those considerations for another time!" i said. "and follow me now, because it is not the time to think about all that. your daughter has found a place of safety, and we will give you a refuge in the same place." "i do not move from here. where is my daughter?" he asked anxiously. "she must be mad not to stay beside her father in his distress. it is because she is ashamed, that she deserted me. curse her, and the hour when i begat her! lord jesus of nazareth and thou my patron, saint dominguito del val, tell me what have i done to deserve so many misfortunes in the same day? am i not good? do i not do all the good i can? do i not favor my neighbors, lending them money at low interest? suppose i do ask a trifle of three or four reales on the dollar by the month? if i am a good man, exact and careful, why is such distress heaped upon me? i am thankful that i have not lost the little that by hard work i have got together, because it is in a place where the bombs cannot reach it; but the house and the furniture, and the receipts, and that which was left in the storehouse! may i be damned, and may the devils eat me, if when this is all over, and i get together the little that i have here, i do not leave saragossa, never again to return!" "nothing of all this is to the point now, señor candiola," i said impatiently; "come with me!" "no," said he furiously. "no, it would be madness! my daughter has disgraced herself. i do not know why i did not kill her this morning. until now i had supposed mariquilla a model of virtue and honesty. i delighted in her companionship; and out of every good deal i set apart a real to buy her finery,--money badly spent! my god, dost thou punish me for wasting good money on useless things which if placed at interest would have been tripled? i had confidence in my daughter. this morning at daybreak, i began by praying with fervor to the virgin del pilar to free me from the bombardment. i tranquilly opened the window to see what the weather was. put yourself in my place, señor soldier, and you will understand my surprise and pain at seeing two men right over there in that balcony,--two men, sir. i see them now! one of them was embracing my daughter. they were both dressed in uniform. i could not see their faces, for the light of day was yet faint. hurriedly i left my room; but when i descended to the garden, the two were already in the street. my daughter was dumb at seeing her lightness discovered. reading in my face the indignation which such vile conduct roused in me, she threw herself on her knees before me, begging my pardon. 'wretch!' i said in a rage, 'you are not my daughter! you are not the daughter of this honorable man who has never done wrong to anybody. mad child, shameless, you are not my daughter! leave this place! two men, two men in my house at night, with you! have you not been making it easy for those men to rob me? have you not shown them this house where there are a thousand objects of value which can be concealed in a pocket? you deserve death. if,--yes,--i am not deceived, those men carried away something. two men, two sweethearts! and receiving them at night and in my house, dishonoring your father and offending god. and i from my room saw the light in yours, and believed that you were wakeful and working. you wretched little thing, while you were in the garden that light in your room was wasting, burning uselessly. you miserable woman!' oh, señor soldier, i could not contain my indignation. i seized her by the arm and dragged her along to throw her out. in my anger i knew not what i did. the wretched girl begged my pardon, saying, 'i love him, father, i cannot deny that i love him.' my fury was redoubled at this, and i cried, 'cursed be the bread that i have given you for nineteen years, to invite thieves into my house! cursed be the hour when you were born, and the linens in which we wrapped you on the third of february in the year ' ! sooner shall the heavens fall, sooner shall the virgin del pilar let me go from her hand, than i will again be your father, and you be for me the mariquilla that i have so much loved!' "i had scarcely said this, señor, when it seemed as if the very heavens were rent in pieces, falling upon my house. what a terrible noise it was! a bomb fell upon the roof, and within five minutes two others fell. we ran in; the flames were spreading hungrily, and the falling of the roof threatened to bury us where we stood. we tried in great haste to save some few little things; but it was not possible. this house, this house which i bought in the year ' for almost nothing, because the mortgage on it was foreclosed against a debtor who owed me five thousand reales with thirteen thousand reales interest,--this house was fairly crumbling to bits. over there a plank fell; over there a pane of glass leaped out; on the side yonder the walls burst in. the cat yowled, and doña guedita fairly clawed me in the face as we got out of the room. i ventured into my own room to try to get some little receipts, and came near perishing." candiola's distress and moral suffering made it seem as if he had a nervous disorder. it was plain to be seen that terror and grief had completely upset him. his talkativeness was not of the sort that soothes the soul, it was a nervous overflow; and although he appeared to talk with me, he was in reality addressing himself to invisible beings. to judge by his gestures, they talked to him in turn. he went on talking, and answering questions which his imaginary interlocutors were asking him. "i have said already that i shall not leave this place while such a quantity of things which can still be saved is not recovered. indeed, am i going to abandon my estate? are there no authorities in saragossa? if there are, then a hundred or two workmen should be sent here to remove this débris and take out something. but, señor, is there no one who has any charity for, any compassion upon this unhappy old man who has never harmed anybody? shall one sacrifice all one's life for others, and, coming into such a plight as this, find no friendly hand held out to help him? no, no one comes, or if they do, it is to see if they can find any money among the ruins. ha, ha, ha!" he laughed like a madman. "it is a good joke on them. i have always been a cautious man, and since the siege began i have put my frugal savings in a place so secure that i alone can find them. no, thieves! no, swindlers! no, selfish ones!--you would not find a real, though you should lift every fragment and break into bits the ruins of this house, though you make toothpicks of all the wood in it, though you reduce everything to powder and sift it!" "then, señor candiola," i said, taking him resolutely by the arm to lead him away, "if your treasures are safe, what is the good of staying here to watch them? let us go!" "have you not understood me, you meddlesome fellow?" he cried, loosing his arm forcibly; "go to the devil, and leave me in peace! how do you suppose i am going to leave my house when the authorities of saragossa have not sent a detachment of troops to guard it? indeed! do you suppose that my house is not full of valuable things? how can you think that i would go from here without taking them? you can see that this first story is unhurt? by removing this grating, it could be easily entered and everything taken away. if i tear myself from here for a single moment, the thieves will come, the refuse of the neighborhood, and woe to all my work and my savings then, to the furniture and utensils which represent forty years of hard work. look on the table of my room, señor soldier, and you will find a copper dish which weighs no less than three pounds. that must be saved at any cost. if the authorities would send a company of engineers here, as it is their duty to do--there is a table service in the cupboard in the dining-room which must remain intact. by entering carefully, propping up the roof, they could save it. oh, yes, it is absolutely necessary to save that set. it is not merely that, señor. in a tin box are my receipts. i hope to save them. there is also a trunk where i keep two old coats and some shoes and three hats. all these things are down here on this story, and are not likely to be hurt. my daughter's clothing is all irrecoverably lost. her dresses, her jewelry, her handkerchiefs, her bottles of perfume would be worth a good sum of money if they were to be had now. how could it be that all this should be destroyed? my lord, what trouble! it must be true that god wished to punish the sin of my daughter, and the bombs fell upon her bottles of perfume. i left my waistcoat upon the bed, and in the pocket there was a peseta and a half. and there are not even twenty men here yet with picks and spades. just and merciful heaven, what are the authorities of saragossa thinking about! the double-wicked lamp will not be ruined. it is the best olive-oil burner in the world. we might find it over yonder, by lifting carefully the fragments of that corner room. let them send workmen here, and see that they do it quickly. how can any one expect me to leave this place? if i should go, or if i should sleep for a single instant, the thieves would come. yes, they will come, and take away that piece of copper from palma." the obstinacy of the miser was so persistent that i resolved to go without him, leaving him given over to his delirious anxiety. doña guedita now arrived, walking hastily. she brought a pick and spade, and a little basket in which i saw some provisions. "señor," she said, sitting down tired and breathless, "here's the pick and spade my nephew has given me. they will not need them any more, because they are not going to make any more fortifications. here are some half-spoiled raisins and some crusts of bread." the old woman ate hungrily; not so candiola, who, despising the bread, seized the pick. resolutely, as if his body were suddenly filled with new energy, he tried to unhinge the grating; working with eager activity, he said,-- "if the authorities of saragossa are not willing to do their duty by me, doña guedita, between you and me, we will do it all! you take the spade and get ready to move the fragments as i dig. look out for the beams that are still smoking. look out for the nails!" i was trying to interpret the signs of intelligence made me by the housekeeper, when he turned to me, saying,-- "go to the devil! what business have you in my house? get out of here! we understand you,--you have come to see if you can pick up anything. there is nothing here. everything is burned up." there was certainly no hope of taking him with me to las tenerias to set poor mariquilla's mind at rest, and so, not being able to stay any longer, i went. master and servant were working away with great vigor. chapter xx i slept from three o'clock until daybreak, and in the morning we heard mass in the coso. in the large balcony of a house called las monas at the entrance of the calle de las escuelas pias all the priests had set up an altar and celebrated there the divine office. by the situation of the building, it was possible to see the priests from anywhere in the coso. it was a profoundly moving sight, especially at the moment of the elevation of the host; and when all knelt in prayer, the low murmur of the service could be heard from one end of the street to the other. a little while after the mass was ended, i heard a large number of people coming from the direction of the market,--an angry and noisy crowd. in the mob, and striving to quell its violence, were several friars; but it was a mob of men deaf to the voice of reason. they were yelling themselves hoarse, and as they came, they dragged along a victim who was powerless to free himself from their grasp. the maddened people took him to the place near the entrance of the trenque where the gallows was; and in a few moments the convulsed body of a man was hanging from one of its ropes, and was jerked about in the air until it was lifeless. on the wood of the gallows an inscription soon appeared, which read,-- _an assassin of human kind, who kept back twenty thousand beds._ the wretch was one fernando estello, watchman of a storehouse of furniture. when the sick and wounded were breathing their last in the gutters and on the cold tiles of the churches, there was found a great collection of beds whose hiding the watchman estello could not account for. the wrath of the populace was not to be restrained. i have heard that he was innocent. many lamented his death; but when the firing in the trenches began again, no one remembered him more. palafox published that day a proclamation in which he tried to raise the spirits of the soldiers, promising the rank of captain to the man who should bring him a hundred recruits, threatening with the penalty of death and confiscation of property the man who should fail to hasten to the defence, or should leave the lines. all this showed great distress on the part of the commanding officers. that day was memorable for the attack on santa monica, which the volunteers of huesca were defending. during the greater part of the night the french had been bombarding the building. the batteries of the orchard were no longer serviceable, and it was necessary to take away the cannon, an operation performed by our valiant men, exposed without protection to the hostile fire. this opened a breach at last; and, penetrating into the orchard, they tried to gain possession of that also, forgetting that they had twice been repulsed on previous days. but lannes, exasperated by the extraordinary and unprecedented tenacity of the saragossans, had given orders to reduce the convent to powder,--a thing which was easier to accomplish with the cannon and howitzer than to take it by storm. at all events, after six hours of artillery fire, a large part of the eastern wall fell, and then the french showed their exultation, and, without loss of time, rushed forward to seize the position, aided by the cross-fire from the molino in the city. seeing them coming, villacampa, commander of the huesca men, and palafox, who had hurried to the point of danger, tried to close up the breach with sacks of wool and some empty musket-boxes. the french, reaching the spot, made a mad, furious assault, but, after a brief hand-to-hand struggle, they were repulsed. during the night they went on cannonading the convent. the next day they decided to make another attack, certain that no mortal could defend that skeleton of stone and brick which every moment was crumbling to the earth. they assailed it at the door of the reception-room; but during all the morning they did not conquer a hand's breadth of earth in the cloister. the wall of the eastern side of the convent fell flat to the earth during the afternoon. the third floor, which was very much weakened, could not hold the weight, and fell upon the second. the latter, which was even weaker, could not help letting itself go upon the first; and the first, incapable of sustaining by itself the weight of the whole structure above, fairly poured itself out over the cloister, burying hundreds of men. it would have been but natural had the rest been intimidated by such a catastrophe, but they were not. the french gained possession of one part of the convent, but not of all; and, in order to gain the rest, they were obliged to clear a road through the ruins. while they were doing this, the men of huesca who still survived, placed themselves in the stairway, and made holes through the floor, in order to throw hand-grenades against the besiegers. fresh french troops were, however, able to reach the church. they passed over the roof of the convent, and spread themselves in the interior; they descended to the cloisters and attacked the brave volunteers. hearing the noise of this encounter, those below plucked up heart, redoubled their energy, and, with the loss of a great number of men, succeeded in reaching the stairway. the volunteers found themselves between two fires, and although it was still possible for them to get out by one of the two openings in the cloister, almost all of them swore that they would die before they would surrender. they all ran, seeking for a strategic point which would permit them to defend themselves to some advantage; but they were driven the length of the cloisters, and when the last gun-shot was heard, it was the signal that the last man had fallen. a few inside the building were able to get out by an underground door. don pedro villacampa, commander of the huesca volunteers, came out into the city that way, and when he found himself in the street, he turned, looking about mechanically for his boys. during this fight we were in the houses about the calle de palomar, firing upon the french detachment sent to assault the convent. before the battle was over, we learned that defence was no longer possible in las monicas. don josé de montoria himself, who was with us, confessed it. "the volunteers of huesca have not borne themselves badly," he said. "they are known to be good fellows. now we must busy ourselves defending these houses on the right. i do not suppose that one is left. there goes villacampa alone. then are not those mendieta, and paul, benedicto, and oliva? let us go. i see that indeed none are left in that place." in this way the convent of las monicas passed into the hands of the french. chapter xxi on reaching this point in my story, i beg the reader to pardon me if i do not give the dates exactly of that which i relate. in this period of horror, lasting from january to the middle of the next month, the successive events are so confused, so mixed up, so run together in my mind, that i cannot distinguish days and nights, and, in some instances, i do not know whether certain skirmishes of those i recall took place in daylight. it seems to me that all happened during one long day, or in one endless night, and that time was not then marked by its ordinary divisions. many sensations and impressions are linked together in my memory, forming one vast picture where there are no more dividing lines than those that the events themselves offer,--the greater fright of one moment, the unexplained panic or fury of another. for this reason i cannot tell exactly on what day that took place which i am going to relate now; but if i am not mistaken it was on a day after the fight at las monicas, and somewhere, i should say, between the thirtieth of january and the second of february. we were occupying a house in the calle de pabostre. the french were in the one next to it, and were trying to advance through the inside of the block to reach the puerta quemada. nothing can compare with the incessant activity going on there. no kind of warfare, no bloodiest battle on the open field, no sieges of a plaza, nor struggles in a street barricade can compare with the succession of conflicts between the army of an alcove and the army of a drawing-room, between the troops that occupy one floor and those which guard the one above it. hearing the muffled blows of the picks at various points, not knowing from what direction the attack might come, caused us some alarm. we went up into attics; we descended into cellars, and glued our ears to partition walls; we tried to learn the intentions of the enemy according to the direction of the blows. at last we noticed that the partition wall was being violently shaken near the very place where we were standing, and we waited fire in the doorway, after heaping up the furniture as a barricade. the french opened a hole, and presently began leaping over beams and broken fragments, showing an intention of driving us from the place. there were twenty of us, fewer of them, and they evidently did not expect to be received in such fashion, and retreated, returning soon with such reinforcement that we were in great danger, and obliged to retire, leaving five comrades behind the furniture, two of them dead. in the narrow passage we ran against a stairway up which we hurried without knowing where we were going, and presently found ourselves in a garret,--an admirable position for defence. the stairway was narrow, however, and the frenchmen who tried to come up it died inevitably. so we remained for some time, prolonging the resistance, and encouraging one another with huzzas and shouts, when the partition at our backs began to resound with loud blows, and we saw immediately that the french, by opening an entrance through there, would catch us between two fires without means of escape. we were now thirteen, as two had fallen in the garret, severely wounded. tio garces, who was in command, shouted furiously: "by heaven, the dogs shall not catch us! there's a skylight in the roof. let us go up through it to the tiles of the roof. go on firing at whoever comes up to try and cut through it! the rest of you enlarge the hole. away with fear, and viva the virgin del pilar!" it was done as he commanded. this was to be a well-ordered retreat, according to the rules of war; and while part of our army was preventing the onward march of the enemy, the rest were occupied in facilitating the retreat. this able plan was put into execution with feverish activity, and very soon the hole of escape was large enough for three men to pass through at once, without the french gaining a single step during the time that we were employed in this way. we quickly got out on the roof. we were now nine. three had been left in the garret, and another was wounded in trying to get out, falling still alive, into the hands of the enemy. on finding ourselves outside, we leaped for joy. we cast a glance over the roofs of the quarter, and saw at a distance the batteries of the french. we advanced on all fours for a good distance, exploring the lay of the land, leaving two sentinels in the gap to pop off a gun at any one who should seek to slip up by them. we had not gone twenty paces when we heard a great noise of voices and laughter which seemed to us to be french. and so it was; from a broad balcony those rascals were looking at us and laughing. they were not slow in firing upon us, but protected behind the chimneys, the angles and corners which the roof afforded, we answered them shot for shot, and replied to their oaths and exclamations by a thousand other invectives with which the lively imagination of tio garces inspired us. at last we retreated, jumping to the roof of the next house. we believed it to be in the hands of our own men, and we entered by the window of a little upper room, supposing that the descent from there to the street would be easy, and that there we should be reinforced for the conclusion of the adventure that had carried us through passages, up stairways, through garrets, and over roofs. but we had scarcely set foot there, when we heard in the apartment below us the sound of many blows on the wall. "they are beating in there," said tio garces, and in a second the french whom we had left in the house next us had passed to this one, where they met comrades. "cuerno! recuerno! let us get out of this! the whole creation's down below there." we passed on into another garret, and found our way to a ladder leading down to a large interior room, from whose doorway came the lively sound of voices, chiefly those of women. the noise of the fight seemed much further off, and we decided it must be at some distance. so we dropped down the ladder and found ourselves in a large room filled with old men, women, and children who had all sought refuge here. many, lying upon rude mattresses, showed in their faces traces of the terrible epidemic, and one lifeless body lay on the floor, breath evidently having left it but a few moments before. some were wounded, suffering cruelly and groaning unrestrainedly; two or three old women were weeping and praying. occasionally voices were heard begging, "water, water!" from where we entered, i saw candiola at the end of the room, carefully depositing in a corner a quantity of clothes and kitchen utensils and crockery. with an angry gesture he drove away the curious children who wished to look over and handle the poor stuff. anxious, eager only to heap together and guard his treasures without losing a fragment, he was saying,-- "i have already lost two cups. and i have no doubt whatever as to what has become of them. some one of these people has taken them. there is no security anywhere; there are no authorities to guarantee to a citizen the possession of his property. out of here, you unmannerly boys! oh, we are hard pushed! cursed be the bombs and the one who invented them! soldiers, you have come in good time. can you not have two sentinels placed here for me to guard these treasures which i have been able to save only with great trouble?" my comrades laughed at such pretension, as may readily be believed. we were just about to go, when i saw mariquilla. the poor girl was sadly changed from lack of sleep, much weeping, and the constant alarms. but the trouble of her brow, and that which looked forth from her eyes, only added to the sweetness of expression of her beautiful face. she saw me, and immediately came eagerly up to me, showing that she wished to speak with me. "and augustine?" i asked her. "he is down there," she replied in tremulous tones. "they are fighting below. we who took refuge in this house have been apportioned to different rooms. my father came this morning with doña guedita. augustine brought us something to eat, and put us in a room where there was a mattress. suddenly we heard blows on the partition walls. the french were coming. the troops entered, and made us leave, carrying the sick and wounded to an upper room. they shut us all in, and then the walls were broken through. the french met the spaniards then, and began real fighting. yes, augustine is below." she was saying this when manuela sancho came, carrying two pitchers of water for the wounded. the poor wretches threw themselves from their beds, disputing even to blows over the water. "no pushing, no scrambling, señors!" said manuela, laughing. "there is water enough for all. our side is winning. it has cost a little labor to drive the french from the alcove, and now they are disputing half of the hall, having gained one half of it. they do not wish to leave us a kitchen or a staircase. the whole place is filled with the dead." mariquilla turned pale with the horror of it. "i am thirsty," she said to me. i immediately tried to get some water for her from manuela; but as the last glass she had was in use, quenching soldiers' thirst, as she went from mouth to mouth with it, i took, in order to lose no time, one of the cups which candiola had in his pile. "eh, you meddler," he said, shaking his fist at me, "leave that cup here." "i am getting it to give water to the señorita," i answered indignantly. "are these things so valuable, señor candiola?" the miser did not reply, but did not oppose my giving his daughter a drink. after her thirst was quenched, a wounded soldier reached out his hands eagerly for the cup, and, lo! it began to go the rounds also, passing from mouth to mouth. when i went to wait upon my comrades, don jeronimo followed me with his eyes, and watched with bad grace the forced loan that was so slow in returning to his hands. manuela sancho was right in saying that our side was winning. the french, dislodged from the main floor of the house, had retired to the one below, where they continued their defence. when i descended, all the interest of the battle was centred in the kitchen, disputed with much bloodshed, but the rest of the house was in our power. many bodies of french and spanish covered the gory floor. some soldiers and patriots, furious at not being able to conquer that dismal kitchen, whence such a fire was pouring, hurled themselves forward into it, defending themselves with their bayonets; and although a goodly number of them perished, their courageous act decided the matter, for behind them others could come, and then all that the room could hold. the imperial soldiers, panic-stricken with this violent assault, looked quickly for a way out of the house which had been taken room by room. we pursued them through passages and halls whose confused arrangement would craze the best military topographer. we finished them wherever we could find them, and some of them escaped, dashing in desperation out through the court-yards. in this manner, after reconquering one house, we reconquered the next one, obliging the enemy to restrict themselves to their old positions, which were the first two houses of the calle de pabostre. afterwards we removed our dead and wounded, and i had the sorrow of finding augustine montoria among the latter, although the gun-wound in his right arm was not of a serious nature. my battalion was reduced one-half that day. the unfortunates who had sought refuge in the upper room now wished to make themselves a little more comfortable in the lower rooms; but this was not thought practicable, and they were obliged to leave the place and look for an asylum further from danger. every day, every hour, every instant, the increasing difficulties of our military situation were aggravated by the sight of the great number of unburied victims of battle and of the epidemic. happy a thousand times those who were buried in the ruins of the undermined houses, as happened to the valiant defenders of the calle de pomar, close to the santa engracia! the most horrible thing was a great number of the wounded piled up together, so that nobody could get at them to help them. there was no medical aid for a hundredth part of them. the charity of women, the zeal of patriotic citizens, the multiplied activity of the hospitals, really availed nothing. there came a time when a sort of impassibility, a dreadful apathy, began to take possession of the besieged. we became used to the sight of a heap of dead bodies, as if they were so many sacks of wool. we were accustomed to see, without pity, great numbers of the wounded creeping and tottering to the houses, each one caring for himself as best he could. in the keenness of our sufferings, it seemed as if the usual necessities of the flesh had gone, and that we lived only in the spirit. familiarity with danger had transformed our natures, infusing them apparently with a new element,--absolute contempt of the material, and indifference to life. every one expected to die at any moment, without the idea disturbing him in the least. i remember hearing described the attack on the trinitarios convent, made in the hope of snatching it from the french, and the fabulous exploits, the inconceivable rashness of that undertaking seemed to me natural and ordinary. i do not know whether i have said that next to the convent de las monicas was that of san augustine, an edifice of good size, with a large church, spacious cloisters, and vast transepts. it was inevitable that the french, now masters of las monicas, should show great perseverance in the effort to gain possession of this monastery, in order to establish themselves firmly and definitely in that quarter. "since we have not the luck to be in las monicas," said pirli to me, "we will, to-day, give ourselves the pleasure of defending until death the four walls of saint augustine. as the estremadurans are not sufficient to defend it, we are ordered in, too. and how about rank, friend araceli? is it true that we two young gentlemen have been promoted to be sergeants?" "i don't know anything about it, friend pirli," i answered; and it was true that i was ignorant of my elevation to the hierarchical altitude of a sergeant. "yes, indeed, the general says so; señor de araceli is first sergeant, and señor de pirli is second sergeant. we have worked hard enough for it. it's a good thing we have enough of our bodies left to hang the epaulets on. i heard that augustine montoria has been made a lieutenant for his gallantry inside the houses. yesterday, at nightfall, the battalion of las peñas de san pedro was reduced to four sergeants, a lieutenant, a captain, and two hundred men." "let us see, friend pirli, if we cannot earn two more promotions apiece to-day." "all that we have to do is to keep our skins whole," he answered. "the few soldiers of the huesca battalion who survive think that they are all going to be made generals. there is the call! have you anything to eat?" "not much." "manuela sancho gave me four sardines. i will divide them with you. how would you like a dozen of these roasted peas? do you remember how wine tastes? i ask, because it is so many days since they have given us a drop. they will give us a spoonful when the battle of san augustine is over. here you are! it would be too bad if they should finish us off before we know what color the stuff is which they are going to pass around to-night. if they would follow my advice, they would give it to us before the fight, so that those who drop off would get a taste. but the committee of supplies has evidently said, 'there is very little wine; if we give it out now there will scarcely be three drops to a man. we will wait until evening, and as it will be a miracle if a fourth part of those who defend san augustine are alive then, there will be at least one swallow apiece for the rest.'" he followed this criticism with a general discourse upon the scarcity of provisions. we did not have time to indulge ourselves much on that topic, for we had scarcely joined the estremadura men at the monastery, when a loud report warned us to be on our guard; then a friar appeared, shouting,-- "my sons, they have blown up the middle walls on the side towards las monicas, and they are already in the building! run to the church. they must have seized the sacristy; but that makes no difference. if you go in time, you will be masters of the nave, of the chapels and the choir. viva the holy virgin del pilar, and the battalion of the estremadura!" we marched serenely into the church. chapter xxii the good fathers encouraged us with their exhortations, and some of them, mingling with us in the most dangerous places in the ranks, said to us,-- "my sons, do not be discouraged. foreseeing this event we have saved moderate quantities of food, and we have wine also. give this mob plenty of powder! courage, dear boys! do not be afraid of the enemy's lead. you do more damage with one of your glances than they with a discharge of lead. forward, my sons! the holy virgin del pilar is with you. don't wince at danger; face the enemy calmly, and in the cloud of battle you will see the holy form of the mother of god. viva spain and fernando vii!" we reached the church; but the french, who had preceded us by the sacristy, already occupied the high altar. i had never before seen a churrigueresque altar all covered with sculptures and garlands of gold, serving as a breastwork for infantry; nor had i ever seen niches which served as the lodging places of a thousand carved saints vomiting forth fire. i had never seen the rays of gilded wood which shed their changeless light from pasteboard clouds peopled by little angels, confused with gun-flashes; nor behind the feet of christ, and back of the golden halo of the virgin mary, the avenging eyes of soldiers taking death-dealing aim. it is well to say that the high altar of san augustine was an enormous one, filled with gilded wooden sculptures, like others you have seen in any of the churches of spain. it extended from the floor to the arch above, and from wall to wall, and represented in row upon row the celestial hierarchies. above, the blood-stained christ spread his arms upon the cross; below, and on the altar, a little shrine enclosed the symbol of the eucharist. although the whole was supported by the ground and the walls, there were little interior covered ways destined for the special services of that republic of saints, and by them the sacristan could ascend from the sacristy to change the dress of the virgin, to light the candles before the highest crucifix, or to clean the dust of centuries from the antique fabrics and painted wood of the images. well, the french rapidly gained possession of the _camarín_ of the virgin, and the narrow passages i have spoken of. when we arrived, from behind each saint, in every niche, gleamed a gun barrel. established thus behind the altar, and advancing slowly forward, they were preparing to take all of this upper part of the church. we were not entirely unprotected; and in order to defend ourselves from the altar-piece, we occupied the confessionals, the altars of the chapels, and the galleries. those of us who were most exposed were in the central nave; and while the more daring advanced resolutely towards the altar, others of us took positions in the lower choir; and from behind the chorister's desk, from behind chairs and benches which we piled up against the choir-screen, we tried to dislodge the french nation from its possession of the high altar. tio garces, with others as brave, ran to occupy the pulpit, another churrigueresque structure whose sounding board was crowned by a statue of faith which reached almost to the roof. they mounted, occupying the little stair and the great chair, and from there, by a singular chance, they shut up every frenchman who dared to show his head in that direction. they also suffered great loss, for the men in the altar were much annoyed by the pulpit, and tried hard to get that obstacle out of their way. at last some twenty imperials came out, evidently bent upon reducing at all hazards that wooden redoubt without whose possession it was madness to attempt to come out into the broad nave. i have never seen anything more like a great battle, and as in that the attention of both armies is concentrated upon one point, the most eagerly disputed of all, whose loss or conquest decides the outcome of the struggle, so the attention of all was now directed to the pulpit, so well defended and so well attacked. the twenty had to resist a sharp fire from us in the choir, and the hand-grenades which were thrown at them from the galleries. but in spite of great loss, they advanced resolutely, bayonets fixed, upon the pulpit stairway. the ten defenders of the fortress were not intimidated, and defended themselves with empty guns, with the unfailing superiority which they always showed in that kind of conflict. many of our men who were firing from the chapel altars and the confessionals, ran to attack the french with their swords, representing in that way, in miniature, conditions of a rude field battle; the contest was waged, man to man, with bayonet-thrusts, guns, and blows as each one met his adversary. the enemy was reinforced from the sacristy, and our rear-guard also came out of the choir. some who were in the gallery on the right jumped upon the cornice of a great reredos at one side, and not satisfied with firing from there, threw down upon the french three statues of saints that capped its three angles. meantime the pulpit was still held bravely, and in that hell of flame i saw tio garces standing erect, directing the men, and looking like a preacher screaming impudently with a hoarse voice. if i should ever see the devil preaching sin, standing on the great chair in the pulpit of a church invaded by all the other demons of hell in hideous riot, it would not especially attract my attention after that. this could not last long; and tio garces presently fell, screaming hoarsely, pierced by a hundred balls. the french, who had poured up by way of the sacristy, now advanced in a closed column, and in the three steps which separated the presbytery from the rest of the church, offered us a wall-like defence. when this column fired, the question of the pulpit was instantly settled, and having lost one out of every five of our men, leaving a large number of our dead upon the tiles of the floor, we retreated to the chapels. the first defenders of the pulpit, those who had gone to reinforce them, and tio garces also, were picked up on bayonets, pierced through and tossed over the redoubt. so died that great patriot unnamed in history. the captain of our company remained lifeless also upon the pavement. we retired in disorderly fashion to various points separated from one another, not knowing who would command us. indeed, the initiative of each one, or of each group of two or three, was the only organization then possible, and no one thought of companies or of military rank. all were obedient to one common purpose, and showed a marvellous instinctive knowledge of rudimentary strategy which the exigencies of the struggle demanded at every moment. this instinctive insight made us understand that we were lost from the time that we got into the chapels on the right, and it was rashness to persist in the defence of the church before the great numbers of the french who now occupied it. some of our soldiers thought that with the benches, the images, and the wood of an old altar-piece, which could easily be broken to pieces, we ought to raise a barricade in the arch of our chapel, and defend ourselves to the last; but two augustine fathers opposed this useless effort. "my sons, do not trouble yourselves to prolong the resistance which will only destroy you, and give our side no advantage," said one of them. "the french are attacking this moment by the calle de las arcades. hasten there, and see if you can not harass them; but do not imagine that you can defend the church profaned by these savages." these exhortations decided us to leave the church. some of the estremadura men remained in the choir, exchanging shots with the french, who now filled the nave. the friars only half-fulfilled their promise of giving us something for which to sing "_gaudeamus_." as a recompense for having defended their church to the last extreme, they were giving us some bits of jerked beef and dry bread, without our seeing or smelling the wine anywhere, in spite of our straining our eyes and our nostrils. but to explain this, they said that the french, occupying all the upper part, had possession of all the principal storehouse of provisions. lamenting this, they tried to console us with praises of our good behavior. the failure of the wine made me remember the great pirli. i happened to recollect that i had seen him at the beginning of the battle. i asked for him, but nobody could account for his disappearance. the french occupied the church, and also some of the upper part of the convent. in spite of our unfavorable position below, we were resolved to go on resisting; and we bore in mind the heroic conduct of the volunteers of huesca, who defended las monicas until they were buried beneath its ruins. we were maddened, and believed ourselves disgraced if we did not conquer. we were impelled to these desperate struggles by a hidden, irresistible force which i cannot explain except as the strong tension and spiritual exaltation springing from our aspirations towards the ideal. an order from outside stopped us, dictated doubtless by the practical good sense of general saint march. "the convent cannot be held," it was said. "instead of sacrificing men with no advantage to the city, let all go out to defend the points attacked in the calle de pabostre, and the puerta quemada, where the enemy are trying to advance, conquering houses from which they have been repulsed various times." we therefore left san augustine. while we were passing through the street of the same name, parallel with the calle de palomar, we saw that they were throwing hand-grenades among the french established in a little opening near the latter of these two streets. who was throwing those projectiles from the tower? in order to tell it more briefly, and with greatest eloquence, let us open the history and read: "in the tower six or eight peasants had placed themselves, having provided themselves with provisions and ammunition to harass the enemy. they continued to hold it for some days without being willing to surrender." there was the glorious pirli! oh, pirli, more happy than tio garces, thou dost occupy a place in history! chapter xxiii incorporated into the battalion of estremadura, we went along the calle de palomar into the plaza de la magdalena, whence we could hear the roar of battle at the end of the calle de puerta quemada. as we have said, the enemy tried to take the calle de pabostre in order to get possession of puerta quemada, an important point whence they could rake with their artillery the street of the same name towards the plaza de la magdalena. as the possession of san augustine and las monicas permitted them to threaten that central point by the easy way to the calle de palomar, they already considered themselves masters of the suburb. in fact, if those in san augustine managed to advance to the ruins of the seminary, and those of the calle de pabostre to the puerta quemada, it would be impossible to dispute with the french the quarter of las tenerias. after a short time they took us to the calle de pabostre, and as the battle of the outside and inside of the buildings and of the public way was now all combined, we entered the first block by the calle de los viejos. from the windows of the house in which we found ourselves, we could see nothing but smoke, and could tell but little of what was going on there. i saw later that the street was all filled with embrasures and trenches at certain distances made of heaps of earth, furniture, and rubbish. from the windows a tremendous fire was poured forth, and, remembering a phrase of the beggar sursum corda, i can say that our souls were turned into bullets. inside the houses the blood flowed in torrents. the onset of the french was terrible, and that the resistance might not be less terrible the belfries summoned men unceasingly. the general dictated stern orders for the punishment of stragglers. the friars rallied the people of other districts, dragging them forward as in a leash. some heroic women set an example, throwing themselves into danger, guns in hand. a dreadful day, whose frightful roar resounds ever in the ears of him who was present! its remembrance pursues him, an unescaped nightmare, through his whole life. he who did not see these horrors, who did not hear the noise of that shouting, knows not with what expression the depths of the horrible may be uttered to human feeling. do not tell me that you have seen the crater of a volcano in the most violent eruption; or a great tempest in the open ocean when the ship, tossed to heaven on a mountain of waterfalls, descends next to a giddy depth,--do not tell me you have seen these things, for they are nothing at all like the volcanoes and tempests of man when his passions urge him to out-rival the disorders in nature. it was difficult to hold us back, and not being able to do much where we were, we descended to the street without noticing the officers who tried to hold us back. the combat had an irresistible attraction for us, and called us as the deep calls unto a man who looks down upon it from a cliff. i have never considered myself heroic; but it is certain that in those moments i did not fear death, nor did the sight of catastrophes terrify me. it is true that heroism, as a thing of the moment, and the direct child of inspiration, does not belong exclusively to the brave. that is the reason it is often found in women and cowards. i will not go into the details of those struggles in the calle de pabostre. they were much like those which i have described before. if they differed in any respect, it was in their excess of constancy, and energy raised to a height where the human ended and the divine began. within the houses, scenes passed like those i have described elsewhere, but with greater carnage, because victory was believed more certain. the advantage the men of the empire gained in one place they lost in another. the battles, begun in the attics, descended step by step to the cellars, and were finished there with clubbed muskets, with the advantage always on the side of our peasants. the tones of command with which one or another directed the movements within these labyrinths resounded from room to room with fearful echoes. they used their artillery in the street, and we did also. often they tried to get possession of our pieces by sudden hand-to-hand struggles; but they lost many men without ever succeeding. alarmed on seeing that the force used at one time to gain a battle was not now sufficient to gain two yards of a street, they refused to fight, and their officers drove them forward, beating their laziness out of them with cudgels. on our side such measures were not necessary; persuasion was enough. the priests, without neglecting the dying, attended to everything. if they saw a weakening anywhere, they would hasten to tell the officers. in one of the trenches in the street, a woman, bravest of all, manuela sancho, after having fired with a gun, began serving cannon number eight. she remained unhurt all day, encouraging all with brave words,--an example to the men. it was perhaps three o'clock when she fell, wounded in the leg, and during a long time was supposed to be dead, because the hemorrhage made her seem lifeless; she looked like a corpse. later, seeing that she breathed, we carried her to the rear, and she was restored, and had such good health afterwards that many years later i had the pleasure of seeing her still alive. history has not forgotten that brave young maid of saragossa. the calle de pabostre, whose poor houses are more eloquent than the pages of a book, now bears the name of manuela sancho. a little after three o'clock, a tremendous loud explosion shook the houses which the french had disputed with us in such a bloody manner during the morning. amid the dust, and the smoke thicker than dust, we saw walls and roofs falling in a thousand pieces, with a noise of which i can give no idea. the french had begun to employ mines. in order to gain that which they could in no other way wrench from the hands of the sons of aragon. they opened galleries; they charged the mines; then the men folded their arms, waiting for the powder to do it all. when the first house went, we stayed quietly in the next, and in the street. but when the second went with a still louder noise, the retreat began with plenty of disorder. considering that so many unfortunate comrades were hurled into the air or buried beneath the ruins, men who had been unconquerable by force of arms, we felt ourselves too weak to contend with the new element of destruction. it seemed to us that in all the other houses, and in the street, horrible craters were going to burst forth which would send us flying, torn into a thousand bloody fragments. the officers held us back, calling,-- "courage, boys, stand firm! that is done to frighten us. we have plenty of powder, too, and we will open mines. do you think this will give them an advantage? on the contrary, we shall see how they will defend themselves among a lot of fragments." palafox appeared at the entrance of the street, and his presence restrained us for some time. the noise prevented me from hearing what he was saying, but by his gestures i understood that he wished us to go on over the ruins. "you hear, boys! you hear what the captain-general says!" a friar shouted beside us, one of those who had come with palafox. "he says that if you will make a little exertion, not one frenchman will be left alive." "you are right!" cried another friar. "there will not be a woman left in saragossa who will even look at you, if you do not hurl yourselves instantly upon those ruins of the houses, and drive the french out." "forward, sons of the virgin del pilar!" cried out a third friar. "do you see those women over there? do you know what they are saying? they are saying that if you do not go, they will go themselves. are you not ashamed of your cowardice?" with that, we stood up a little more bravely. another house fell on the right. palafox came into the street. without knowing how or why, we followed him when he put himself at our head. now is the time to speak of that high personage whose name and fame are one with that of saragossa. his prestige is due in large measure to his great courage, but also to his noble origin, and the respect in which the family of lazan has always been held in saragossa, and to his handsome and spirited presence. he was young. he had belonged to the guards. he was much praised for having refused the favors of a very highly-placed lady, as famous for her position as for scandals about her. that which endeared the saragossan leader more than anything else to his people was, however, his supreme, his indomitable courage, the youthful ardor with which he attacked the most dangerous and difficult obstacles, simply to reach his ideals of honor and glory. if he lacked intellectual gifts to direct an undertaking so arduous as this, he had the prudence to know his lack, and to surround himself with men distinguished for their judgment and wisdom. these men did everything. palafox was the great figure-head, the chief actor in the scene. over a people so largely ruled by imagination, that young general could scarcely fail to hold an imperious dominion, with his illustrious lineage and splendid figure. he showed himself everywhere, encouraging the weak, and distributing rewards to the brave. the saragossans beheld in him the symbol of their constancy, their virtues, their patriotic ideal with its touch of mysticism, and their warlike zeal. whatever he ordered, everybody found right and just. like those monarchs whom traditional laws have made the personal embodiment of government, palafox could do no wrong. anything wrong was the work of his counsellors. in reality, the illustrious commander did not govern, he reigned. father basilio governed, with o'neill, saint march, and butron, the first, an ecclesiastic, the other three noted generals. in places of danger, palafox always appeared like a human expression of triumph. his voice reanimated the dying; and if the virgin del pilar had spoken, she would have chosen no other mouth. his countenance always expressed a supreme confidence. in his triumphal smile, courage overflowed, as in others it is expressed by a ferocious frown. he was vain-gloriously proud of being the prop of that great hour in history. he understood instinctively that the outcome depended more upon him as an actor than upon him as a general. he always appeared in all the splendors of his uniform, with gold lace, waving plumes, and medals. the thundering music of applause, of huzzas, flattered him extremely. all this was necessary. indeed there must always be something of mutual adulation between the army and the commander-in-chief, in order that the pride of victory may inspire one and all to deeds of heroism. chapter xxiv as i have said, palafox pulled us together; and although we abandoned almost all of the calle de pabostre, we remained strong in the puerta quemada. if the battle was bloody until three, the hour when we centred in the plaza de la magdalena, it was not less bloody there until night. the french began to raise works in the houses ruined by the mines, and it was curious to see how among the masses of rubbish and beams small armed squares and covered ways were made and platforms to connect the artillery. that was a battle which every moment appeared less and less like any other known warfare. from this new phase of contest resulted an advantage for us and a hindrance for the french. the demolition of the houses permitted them to place some new pieces, but the men were unprotected. to our misfortune, we could not avail ourselves of this because of the explosions. fright made us think the danger multiplied a hundredfold, when in reality it was diminished. not wishing to do less than they in that fiery duel, the saragossans began to burn the houses in the calle de pabostre which they could not hold. besiegers and besieged, desirous of coming to an end of this, and not being able to attain it in such intricate burrowing warfare, began to destroy, one side by mining, the other by burning, remaining unprotected like the gladiator who throws away his shield. what an afternoon! what a night! arriving here, i pause, wearied and breathless. my recollections are obscured, dimmed as my thoughts and my feelings were dimmed on that dreadful night. there came indeed a moment when being unable to resist longer, my body, like that of others of my comrades who had the fortune or misfortune to be still alive, dragged itself back across the gutters, stumbling over unburied bodies that seemed less than human among the debris. my feelings had flung me into an extreme of delirium, and i did not clearly know where i was. my idea of living was a confused, vague mixture of unheard-of miseries. it did not seem as if it was day, because in so many places the murk hung low, obscuring everything. nor could i think it night, for flames like those we imagine in hell reddened the city on every side. i only know that i dragged myself, stepping upon bodies, some dead and some still moving, and that farther on, always farther on, i thought i might find a piece of bread and a mouthful of water. what horrible mental dejection! what hunger! what thirst! i saw many running swiftly. i cried out to them. i saw their strange shadows throwing grotesque figures upon the neighboring walls. they were going and coming, i know not whence nor where. i was not the only one who, with body and soul exhausted after so many hours of fighting, had given out completely. many others who had not the steel nerves of the aragonese were dragging themselves along like myself, and we begged one another for a little water. some, more fortunate than the rest, had the strength to look about among the corpses and find crusts of rations not eaten, fragments of meat, cold and dirty on the ground, which they devoured with avidity. somewhat revived, we went on looking, and i took my part of the tidbits of the feast. i did not know if i was wounded. some of those who were talking with me, telling me of their dreadful hunger and thirst, had terrible wounds and burns and contusions. at last we came to some women who gave us water to drink, although it was muddy and warm. we disputed over the jug, and then in the hands of one of the dead we found a kerchief containing two dried sardines and little cakes. encouraged by these repeated finds, we went on pillaging, and at last the little which we were able to eat, and, more than anything else, the dirty water we drank, gave us back a little strength. i now felt myself able to walk a little, although with difficulty. i saw that my clothing was all soaked with blood. feeling a lively smarting in my right arm, i supposed that i was severely wounded; but the hurt turned out to be an insignificant contusion, and the stains on my clothing came from creeping along through the pools of blood and mud. i could now think clearly again. i could see plainly, and could hear distinctly the shouts and the hurried footsteps, the cannon-shots near and afar in dreadful dialogue. their crashings here and yonder seemed like questions and replies. the burning went on. there was a dense cloud over the city formed of dust and smoke, which, with the splendor of the flames, revealed horrible unearthly scenes like those of dreams. the mangled houses, with their windows and openings glaring with the light like hellish eyes, the projecting angles of the smoking ruins, and the burning beams formed a spectacle less sinister than that of those leaping and unwearied figures that did not cease to move about here and there, almost in the centre of the flames. they were the peasants of saragossa, who were still fighting with the french, and disputing with them every hand's breadth of this hell. i found myself in the calle de puerta quemada. that which i have described was seen by looking in two directions from the seminary, and from the entrance of the calle de pabostre. i went on a few steps, but fell again, overcome by fatigue. a priest, seeing me covered with blood, came up to me and began to talk to me of the future life, and of the eternal rewards destined for those who die for their country. he told me that i was not wounded; but that hunger, weariness, and thirst had prostrated me, and that i seemed to have the early symptoms of the epidemic. then the good friar, in whom i recognized at once father mateo del busto, seated himself beside me, sighing deeply. "i can keep up no longer. i believe that i am going to die." "is your reverence wounded?" i asked, seeing a linen cloth bound upon his right arm. "yes, my son. a ball has destroyed my shoulder and arm. i am in the greatest pain, but i must bear it. christ suffered more for us. since daybreak i have been busy, caring for the wounded and pointing the dying to heaven. i have not rested a moment for sixteen hours, nor have i eaten nor drank anything. a woman tied this linen on my right arm, and i went about my work. i believe that i shall not live long. what a death! my god, and all these wounded with no one to take care of them! but, oh, i can no longer stand! i am dying! have you seen that trench which is at the end of the calle de los clavos? over there poor coridon is lying, lifeless, the victim of his own courage. we were passing along there to take care of some of the wounded, when we saw, near the garden of san augustine, a group of frenchmen who were passing from one house to another. coridon, whose impetuous blood impelled him to the most daring acts, threw himself upon them. they bayoneted him, and flung him in the ditch. how many victims in a single day, araceli! indeed, you are fortunate in not being hurt. but you will die of the epidemic, and that is worse. to-day i have given absolution to sixty who were dying of the epidemic. i give it to you also, my friend, because i know you have committed no sins, only peccadilloes, and that you have borne yourself valiantly in these days. how is it? do you feel worse? truly you are yellower than these corpses about us. to die of the epidemic during this horrible siege is to die for one's country. courage, young man! heaven is open to receive you, and the virgin del pilar will welcome you with her mantle of the stars. life is nothing. how much better it is to die honorably, and to gain eternal glory by the suffering of a day! in the name of god, i forgive you your sins!" then after murmuring the prayer appropriate to the occasion, he blessed me, and pronounced the _ego te absolvo_, and then lay down upon the ground. he looked very badly, and although i did not call myself well, i thought myself in a better state of health than the good friar. that was not the only time when the confessor died before the dying one, and the physician before the patient. i spoke to father mateo, and he did not answer me, except with piteous moans. i went a little way to look for some one who might be able to help him. i met several men and women, and told them, "father mateo del busto is over there and cannot move;" but they took no notice of me and went on. many of the wounded called upon me, begging for aid; but i took no notice at all of them. near the coso, i met a child of eight or ten years, who was alone, and weeping in the sorest distress. i stopped him. i asked him where his parents were, and he pointed to a place near where there was a great number of the wounded and dead. afterwards i met the same child in several places, always alone and always crying aloud very bitterly. no one cared for him. i heard no questions, but, "have you seen my brother?" "have you seen my son?" "have you seen my father?" but none of these were to be found in any direction. no one tried to take any of the wounded to the churches, because all or nearly all were crowded. the cellars and lower rooms which at first had been considered good places of refuge, were now infected with a death-dealing atmosphere. there came a time when the best place for the wounded was in the middle of the street. i directed my steps towards the centre of the coso, because they said that there they were giving out something to eat, but i received nothing. i was returning to las tenerias, and at last, in front of almudi, they gave me a little hot food. that which seemed a symptom of the epidemic disappeared, for indeed my malady was only of the sort that can be cured with bread and wine. i remembered father mateo del busto, and with some others went to help him. the unfortunate old man had not moved, and when we came up, and asked him how he found himself, he answered thus,-- "what is it? has the bell sounded for matins? it is early. leave me to rest. i find myself much fatigued, father gonzalez. i have been picking flowers in the garden for sixteen hours, and i am tired." in spite of his entreaty, we four took him up; but we had carried him only a short distance before he was dead in our arms. my comrades ran to the front, and i was preparing to follow them, when i happened to see a man whose looks attracted my attention. it was candiola. he was coming out of a house near by with his clothing scorched, and grasping between his hands a fowl, which cackled at being held captive. i stopped him in the middle of the street, questioning him about his daughter and augustine. he answered me in a very disturbed way,-- "my daughter--i do not know--there she is--somewhere. all, all! i have lost all. the receipts, the receipts were burned. fortunately i got out of the house, and as i fled i came upon this chicken which, like me, was flying from the dreadful flames. yesterday, a hen was worth five duros. but my receipts! holy virgin del pilar, and thou, dear little santo domingo of my soul, why have ye let my receipts be burned? they, at least, might have been saved. do you wish to help me? the tin box which held them is still there pinned down under a great beam. where can you find half a dozen men for me? good god, this junta, these authorities, this captain-general, what are they thinking of?" and he went on, calling out to the passers-by, "eh, peasant, friend, dear man, let us see if we cannot lift the beam which has fallen into the corner. oh, friends, put down that dying man you are carrying to the hospital, and come and help me. oh, pitiless saragossans, how god is chastising you!" seeing that none came to help him, he went into the house, but came out again, crying out in desperation, "already it is too late to save anything! everything is on fire. oh, my virgin del pilar, why dost thou not perform a miracle for me? why not give me such a gift as that bestowed upon the children in the fiery furnace of babylon, so that i could go into the teeth of the fire and save my receipts!" chapter xxv presently he seated himself upon a pile of stones, beating his brow from time to time, and without loosening his hold of the chicken, he laid his hand upon his heart, sighing deeply. i questioned him again about his daughter, desiring to hear news of augustine; and he said to me,-- "i was in that house in the calle de añon, where we moved in yesterday. everybody told me that it was not safe there, and that we had much better be in the middle of the town; but it does not suit me to go where everybody else comes, and the place that i prefer is the one that the rest abandon. this world is filled with thieves and rascals. it is better that i get away from them. we managed with a lower room of that house. my daughter is very much afraid of the cannon, and wished to go elsewhere. when the mines began to burst under the neighboring houses, she and guedita rushed away, terrified. i stayed alone, thinking of the danger my things are in; and pretty soon some soldiers came with flaming torches ready to set fire to the house. those wretched cowards would not give me time to collect my things. far from pitying my condition, they ridiculed me. i hid the box with my receipts for fear that those who think it is stuffed with money would carry it off; but it was impossible to stay inside long. i was surrounded with the bright flames, and choked with the smoke. in spite of everything, i insisted upon trying to save my box; but it was an impossible thing. i had to run. i could not take anything. great god! i saved nothing but this poor creature, forgotten by its owners in the hen-house. it cost me a good deal of trouble to catch it. i burned one hand almost all over. oh, cursed be he who invented fire! why should one lose one's fortune to amuse these heroes! i had two houses in saragossa besides the one i lived in. one of them, the one in the calle de la sombra, is preserved to me still, although it is without tenants. the other, which was called casa de los duendes, back of the san francisco is occupied by the troops, and everything there has been torn to pieces for me. ruin, nothing but ruin! is it a right thing to burn houses merely to retard the conquest by the french?" "war makes it necessary to do these things," i answered him. "and this heroic city desires to carry her defence to the last extreme." "and what induces saragossa to wish to carry her defence to the last extreme? what good does it do to the dead? you may talk to them of glory, of heroism,--of all those notions. before i ever come back to live in an heroic city, i would go to a desert. i concede that there should be a certain resistance, but not to such a barbarous extreme as this. it is true the burned buildings are worth little, perhaps less than the great mass of charcoal which will result. don't let them come to me with their foolish talk. those fat sharpers are already planning to make a good business out of the carbon." this made me laugh. my readers must not think that i exaggerate, since he said all this to me very nearly as i repeat it; and those who have the misfortune to know him would most readily have faith in my veracity. if candiola had lived in numantia, it would have been said that the numantines were merchants of charcoal mixed with heroes. "i am lost! i am ruined forever!" he went on, crossing his hands forlornly. "those receipts were part of my fortune. how am i going to claim the amounts without any documents to show, and when almost all my debtors are dead, and lying rotting about the streets! i said, and i repeat it, those who have made me all this trouble are disobedient to god. it is a mortal sin; it is an unforgivable offence to let themselves be killed when they owe money on such old accounts that their creditor will not be able to collect easily. paying up is very hard work; so some of these people say, 'let us wall ourselves in and burn with the money.' but god is inexorable with this heroic rabble, and to chastise them he will resurrect them, so that they will yet have to meet the constable and the notary. my god, resurrect them! holy virgin del pilar, santo domingo del val, resurrect them, i pray!" "and your daughter?" i asked with interest. "did she come out of the fire unharmed?" "do not speak of her to me as my daughter!" he replied sternly. "god has punished me for her faults. i know now who her infamous admirer is. who can it possibly be, but that damned son of don josé montoria who studied to be a priest! mariquilla has confessed it to me. yesterday she was dressing a wound he has on his arm, and this was done before me. did you ever hear of anything so shameless?" as he said this. doña guedita, who was looking anxiously for her master, came up with a cup containing some sort of nourishment. he took it hungrily; and then, by force of entreaty, we succeeded in getting him away from there, taking him to the organo alley, where his daughter had taken refuge, in a porch, with other shelterless ones. after growling at her a moment, candiola went on into the house, followed by his housekeeper. "where is augustine?" i asked mariquilla. "he was here a moment ago; but some one came to tell him of the death of his brother, and he has gone. i heard it said that the family is in the calle de las rufas." "his brother is dead! don josé's eldest son!" "so they said, and he started in haste and in great distress." without waiting to hear more, i also ran to the calle de las rufas to do everything i could to help in their trouble the generous family to which i owed so much. before arriving there, i met don roque, who, with tears in his eyes, came up to speak to me. "gabriel," he said, "god has laid his hand heavily to-day upon our good friend." "is it the eldest son who is dead, manuel montoria?" "yes, and that is not the only trouble of the family. manuel was married, as you know, and had a son four years of age. you see that group of women? well, the wife of montoria's poor eldest son is there with her boy in her arms. he is dying of the epidemic, and is already in his agony. is it not a horrible state of things? there is one of the first families of saragossa reduced to this sad condition, without a roof to cover them, in want of the most necessary things. that unfortunate young mother was in the street all night, exposed to the weather with her sick child in her arms, expecting every instant that he would breathe his last. after all it is better to be here than in one of those pestilent cellars where no one can breathe. i am thankful that i and other friends have been able to help her a little; but what can one do when there is scarcely any bread to be had? the wine is all finished, and a bit of beef is not to be found, though i gave her a piece of ours." morning began to come. i went up to the group of women and saw a sorrowful sight. with the anguished effort to save life, the mother and the few women who kept her company were torturing the poor child with remedies which everybody tries at such a time; but it needed only to see the victim of the fever to realize the impossibility of saving that little being whom death had already grasped with his relentless hand. the voice of don josé de montoria obliged me to hasten forward more quickly; and in an outer corner in the calle de las rufas a second group completed the dreadful picture of that unhappy family. stretched upon the ground was the body of manuel, a young man of thirty years, no less amiable and generous in his life than his father and brother. a ball had pierced his head, and from the small external wound, at the spot whence the ball had emerged, a thread of blood still trickled, dropping down the temple, the cheek, and the neck, and falling down upon the skin beneath the shirt. because of this, the body did not seem like that of one dead. when i arrived, nobody had been able to make his mother believe that he was dead, and she held his head upon her knees, hoping to revive him with tender words. montoria, on his knees at the right side, held his son's hand between his own hands and gazed at him, speechless, not taking his eyes from him. as white as the dead, the father did not weep. "wife!" he exclaimed at last, "do not pray god for the impossible. we have lost our son." "no, my son is not dead!" exclaimed the mother, in despair. "it is a lie. why deceive me? how could it be possible for god to take our son from us? what have we done to deserve such a punishment? manuel, my son, why dost thou not answer me? why dost thou not move? why dost thou not speak? in a moment we will carry thee into the house--but where is our house? my son grows cold on this bare ground. see how chill are his hands and his face!" "you must go away from here, wife," said montoria, restraining the flood of his tears; "we will take care of manuel." "o my lord god!" moaned the mother, "what ails my son that he does not speak, nor move, nor wake? he seems to be dead; but he is not, he cannot be dead! holy virgin del pilar, is it not true that my son is not dead?" "leocadia," repeated montoria, wiping away the first tears that had fallen from his eyes, "go away from here a little, go away, for god's sake! be resigned, for god has dealt us a heavy blow, and our son no longer lives. he has died for his country." "why has my son died!" exclaimed the mother, straining the body to her in her arms, as if she would not let it go. "no, no, no! what is the country to me? let my son be given back to me. manuel, my boy, do not let them separate you from me; those who would tear you from my arms must kill me first." "o lord god, holy virgin del pilar," said don josé de montoria, in solemn tones, "never have i knowingly and deliberately offended ye. for the sake of religion and the king i have given my goods and my sons. why, instead of my first-born, why have you not taken my life a hundred times, miserable old man, good for nothing? gentlemen, you who are present, i am not ashamed to weep before you; my heart is utterly broken, but montoria is still the same. we will say to thee, happy art thou a thousand times, my son, who hast died at the post of honor. unhappy those of us who still live, having lost thee. but god wills it thus; and we bow our foreheads before the ruler of all things. wife, god gave us peace, happiness, prosperity, and good sons; now it seems that he desires to strip us of all. let our hearts be filled with humility, and let us not curse our fate. blessed be the hand that leads us, and let us tranquilly hope for the blessing of a death like this." doña leocadia, who had no life left except for weeping, was kissing the cold body of her son. don josé, trying to subdue the manifestations of his own grief, rose and said in a firm voice,-- "leocadia, you must rise now. it is necessary that our son should be buried." "buried!" exclaimed the mother. "buried!" and she could say no more, for she fell forward, lifeless, clasping her son. at the same moment we heard a heart-rending cry not far from there, and a woman came running in anguish towards us. it was the wife of the unfortunate manuel, now widowed and childless. several of us tried to restrain her, so that she might not witness the terrible scene, after what she had just been through; but the unhappy lady struggled with us, begging us to let her see her husband. in the mean time don josé, leaving us, went over to where the body of his grandson was lying, took him in his arms, and carried him and put him down near manuel. the woman needed all of our care; and while doña leocadia continued without consciousness or motion, holding the corpse embraced in her arms, her daughter-in-law, fevered with grief, was running about after imaginary enemies, threatening to tear them to pieces. we tried to hold her, but she escaped from us. at times she laughed with frightful laughter, and presently she knelt before us, praying us to return the two bodies that we had taken away. people passed,--soldiers, friars, peasants,--all seeing this with indifference, because every one had passed through similar scenes. hearts were hardened, and souls seemed to have lost their most beautiful faculties, preserving nothing but a rude heroism. at last the poor woman yielded to fatigue, to the exhaustion of her own pain, lying passive in my arms as if she were dead. we looked about for some cordial or some kind of nourishment to revive her; but we had none, and the people who saw our need had work enough to attend to their own. in the mean time, don josé helped by his son augustine, who also controlled his bitter grief, loosened the body from the arms of doña leocadia. the state of this unhappy lady was such that it seemed almost as if we should have to mourn another death that day. presently montoria repeated, "it is necessary that my son be buried!" he looked about; we all looked about, and saw numbers of unburied bodies. in the calle de las rufas there were many; and the calle de la imprenta (now the calle de flandro) close by had been made into a sort of receiving house. it is not exaggeration, that which i saw and will tell you: innumerable bodies were piled up in the narrow way, forming a broad wall from house to house. it was dreadful to see, and those who saw it were condemned to have before their mind's eyes for all their lives that funeral pyre made of the bodies of their fellow-beings. it may seem that i am inventing, but this thing happened: a man entered the calle de la imprenta and began to shout. at a window appeared another man, who replied to him, saying, "come up!" then the other, thinking to make a shorter cut than by the house door and the staircase, climbed up over the heap of bodies, and reached the second story, one of whose windows served him for a door. in many other streets, the same thing happened. who could think of giving them sepulchre? for every pair of useful arms, and for every spade, there were fifty dead. three hundred to four hundred were perishing daily with the epidemic. every bloody battle had carried off a thousand more; and already saragossa began to seem a great city depopulated of living creatures. montoria, on seeing how things were, said: "my son and my grandson will not have the privilege of sleeping beneath the ground. their souls are in heaven. what matters the rest? we must leave them thus in this gateway of the calle de las rufas. augustine, my son, it is best for you to go back to the lines. the officers are able to spare fewer than ever. i believe that they are in need of men at the magdalena. i have now no son, man, but you. if you die, what would be left me? but duty is first; and, before seeing thee a coward, i prefer to see thee bleeding like thy poor brother with thy temple pierced by the enemy's ball." then placing his hand upon the head of his son, who was kneeling uncovered beside the body of manuel, he continued, lifting his eyes to heaven,-- "lord, if thou hast willed to take my second son, also, take me to my first. when the siege is over, i desire to live no longer; my poor wife and i have had our share of happiness. we have received too many blessings to speak against the hand which has wounded us. hast thou not done enough to prove us? must my second son also perish? come, señors," he said presently, "let us disperse. perhaps we are needed elsewhere." "señor don josé," said don roque, weeping, "will you not retire also, and let your friends fulfil this sad duty?" "no; i am man for all that must be done, and god has given me a soul that does not flinch and will not quail." he lifted the body of manuel, aided by one of the others, while augustine and i lifted his grandchild, to place both at the entrance of the calle de las rufas, where many other families had lain their dead. montoria, as he put down the body, breathed a long sigh, and let his arms fall as if the effort made had exhausted his energies, and said,-- "truly, gentlemen, i am not now able to deny that i am tired. yesterday, i felt young; to-day, i am very old." montoria had indeed aged visibly, and one night had taken ten years of his life. he sat down upon a stone, and, putting his elbows on his knees, hid his face in his hands. he remained in this attitude for a long time, and none of those present interfered with his grief. doña leocadia, her daughter, and her daughter in-law, assisted by two old servants of the family, were in the coso. don roque, who went and came from one place to the other, said,-- "the señora remains very weak. they are praying earnestly now and weeping. they are sadly downcast, the poor ladies. boys, it is very necessary that we look about town, and see if a little something in the way of nourishment cannot be found." montoria rose then, wiped away the tears which coursed freely from his burning eyes, saying,-- "there is no lack of food still in town, according to my belief. don roque, my friend, will you not go and find something to eat, let it cost what it may?" "yesterday i paid five duros for a hen in the market," said one of the old servants of the house. "but to-day there are none," said don roque. "i was there only a moment ago." "friends, look about and find something. i need nothing for myself." he was saying this when we heard the agreeable cackle of a fowl. we all looked joyfully towards the entrance of the street, and we saw candiola, who carried in his left hand the chicken we know of, caressing its black plumage with his right. before they asked him for it, he approached montoria slowly, and said,-- "a doubloon for the chicken." "what a starved thing it is!" exclaimed don roque. "the poor creature is little more than bones." i was not able to restrain my anger at seeing such shining evidence of the repugnant meanness and hard-heartedness of candiola. so i went up to him, and snatched the chicken from his hands, saying violently,-- "this chicken is stolen! come, you miserable miser, one would sell one's own cheaper! this was sold for five duros yesterday in the market. five duros you may have, you coward, you thief, not a fraction more!" candiola began to howl for his chicken, and was on the point of getting a good thrashing, when don josé de montoria intervened, saying,-- "let him have what he wishes. give señor candiola the doubloon that he charges for this fowl." he gave him the extortionate amount, which candiola was not slow to accept; and then our friend went on thus,-- "señor candiola, let us speak together. now, about that wherein i offended you. yes--a few days ago--about that affair of the blows. there are times when one is not master of one's self, when the blood mounts up to the head. it is true that you provoked me, and you charged more for the flour than the captain-general had ordered. it is true, don jeronimo, my friend, that i shook you off, and you see--yet--one could not help that and--i, i believe the--well, i suppose that my hand flew away from me, and i did something." "señor montoria," said candiola, "a day will come when we shall again have authorities in saragossa. then we shall meet again face to face." "are you going to make it a matter of justices and notaries? that's bad. that which is past--it was an access of anger, one of those things which cannot be helped. my mind now is filled with the thought that i am in trouble, very great trouble. one does not wish to offend one's neighbor." "it is not much to offend him, after robbing him," said don jeronimo, looking about at us all, and smiling contemptuously. "it was not exactly robbing," said don josé, patiently; "because i did that which the captain-general commanded. the offence of word and deed was undeniable; and now when i saw you coming with the chicken, i determined at once to own up that i did wrong. my conscience urged it upon me. ah, señor candiola, i am very unhappy! when one is happy, one does not know his faults. but it is true, don jeronimo, that as i saw you coming toward me just now, i felt desirous to ask your pardon for those blows. i hold out the hand that offended. so it is. i don't know what i am doing--yes, i do request you to forgive me, and let us be friends. señor don jeronimo, let us be friends, let us be reconciled, and not make a permanent grudge out of an old resentment. hatred poisons the soul, and the remembrance of not having done right oppresses us with an insupportable weight." "after an act of robbery, you think all can be arranged with hypocritical words," said candiola, turning his back and skulking away from the group, muttering, "señor montoria should talk of refunding the price of the flour. begging forgiveness of me! i have lived to see all there is to see." he moved slowly away. montoria, seeing that several of us were about to pursue the insolent cur, said,-- "let him go in peace. let us have compassion on that unfortunate man." chapter xxvi on the third of february, the french gained possession of the convent of jerusalem,[ ] which was between santa engracia and the hospital. the battle which succeeded the conquest of such an important position was as bloody as those of las tenerias. [ ] to-day the convent of jerusalem still exists in a restored condition. its façade is towards the hall of independence. the hospital occupied the place where the hotel de l'europe stands. the present palace of deputies for the province was constructed on the site of the convent of san francisco. don marcos simono, the distinguished commander of engineers, was one of those who died there. in the suburb, the besiegers had advanced but little; and in six or seven days' effort, they had not gained possession of the calle de puerta quemada. the authorities understood that it would be difficult to prolong the resistance much longer, and with offers of money and honors tried to rouse the patriots anew. in a proclamation of the second of february, asking for means, palafox said, "i am giving my two watches and twenty silver dishes, which are all i have left." in that of the fourth of february, he offered to give especial honors, to make caballeros of the twelve men who should most distinguish themselves; a military order of nobility was created for them, called the infanzones. in the proclamation of the ninth, he mourned the indifference and readiness to yield, exhibited by some citizens at the misfortunes of their country; and after intimating that this loss of heart was brought about by french gold, he threatened dire punishment for those who showed themselves cowards. the battles of the third, fourth, and fifth were not so bloody as the last which i have described. the french and spanish were perishing with fatigue. the street entrances which we were holding in the plazuela de la magdalena were defended with cannon, and repulsed the enemy's two advances from the calle de palomar and the calle de pabostre. the remains of the seminary were also bristling with artillery; and the french, sure of not being able to drive us from there by ordinary means, were working at their mines without ceasing. my battalion was now one with that of the estremadura, and indeed what was left of both was scarcely three companies. augustine montoria was captain, and i was promoted lieutenant on the second. we did not return to service in las tenerias. they sent us to guard san francisco,--a vast edifice which offered good positions for our guns against the french, who were established in the convent of jerusalem. very short rations were now dealt out to us; and those of us who were counted among the officers ate in the same mess with the soldiers. augustine kept his bread to give to mariquilla. after the fourth day, the french began mining towards the hospital and san francisco, in order to take it; for they knew well that it would be impossible in any other way. in order to hinder them we countermined, intending to blow them up before they could blow us up. this toilsome labor in the bowels of the earth can be compared to nothing else in the world. we seemed to ourselves to have left off being men, and to be converted into another kind of creatures, into cold inhabitants of caverns, without feeling, far from the sun and the pure air and the lovely light of day. we built long galleries, working ceaselessly like the worm that builds his house in the darkness of earth, shaping it like his own body. between the blows of our picks, we heard, like a muffled echo, the picks of the french. after having been beaten and destroyed on the surface, we expected momentarily to be exterminated in the dreadful night of those sepulchres. the convent of san francisco had vast subterranean wine-cellars under its choir. the edifices which the french occupied farther down had these also, and it was unusual for a house not to have a deep cellar. in these many of our enemies perished, sometimes by the falling in of floors, sometimes wounded from afar by our balls, which penetrated into the most hidden places. the galleries opened by the spades of both sides met at last in one of these cellars. by the light of our torches, we saw the french, like fantastic goblin figures engendered by the reddish light and the sinuosities of the old moorish dungeon. they did not see us, and we began firing at them; but as we were provided with hand-grenades, we hurled these also, putting them to flight, following them afterwards at arms-length the whole distance through their galleries. all this seemed a nightmare,--one of those dreadful struggles which at times we all wage with the abhorrent figures that people the terrible caverns of our dreams. but it was not a dream, though it repeated itself at many points. in this pursuit, we showed ourselves frequently; and at last emerged in the coso,--the central place of reunion, and at the same time, park, hospital, and general cemetery of the besieged. one afternoon (i believe it was the fifth), we were in the gateway of the convent, with several boys of the battalion of estremadura and san pedro. we were talking about the way the siege dragged along, and all agreed that resistance would very soon be impossible. our group was constantly enlarged. don josé de montoria came up, and, saluting us with a sad face, seated himself upon a wooden bench near the doorway. "do you hear what they are saying here, don josé?" i said to him. "they believe that it is impossible to hold out many days more." "don't get discouraged, boys," he answered. "the captain-general says truly in his proclamation that a good deal of french gold is in circulation in this city." a franciscan who had come to nurse several dozen of the sick took up the word, and said,-- "it is painful to hear them. they do not talk of anything but surrender here. it does not seem as if this is saragossa any longer. who could believe it of a people tried in the fire of the first siege?" "your reverence is right!" exclaimed montoria. "it is shameful; and even those of us who have hearts of bronze feel ourselves attacked by this weakness, which spreads faster than the epidemic. in casting up the accounts, i don't know how to reckon for this novelty of surrender, when we have never done it before, porra! if there is something to come after this world, as our religion teaches us, why should we worry about a day more or less of life?" "the truth is, señor don josé," said the friar, "that the provisions are going fast; and when there is no flour everybody is irritable." "fiddle-de-dee, father luengo," exclaimed montoria. "yet if these people, accustomed to the luxury of other times, cannot get along without bread and meat, there is nothing to say! as if there were not other things to eat! i believe in resisting to the last breath of life, cost what it may. i have experienced terrible misfortunes; the loss of my first-born and of my grandson has filled my heart with sorrow; but at times my regard for national honor fills my soul so that there is no room left for any other sentiment. one son is left to me, the only consolation of my life, the one hope of my house and my name. far from taking him out of danger, i insisted upon his persisting in the defence. if i should lose him, i would die of grief; but in order to save our national honor, i am willing that my only child shall perish." "and according to what i have heard," said father luengo, "the señor augustine has performed prodigies of valor. it is plain that the greenest laurels of this campaign belong to the brilliant fighters of the church." "no; my son no longer belongs only to the church. it is necessary that he should renounce the plan of being a clergyman. i cannot be left without direct succession." "ah, you are talking of succession and of marriages! augustine must have changed since he became a soldier. formerly his conversation was all of theology, and i never heard him talk of love. he is a chap who has saint thomas at his finger-tips, and does not know in what part of their faces girls carry their eyes." "augustine will sacrifice his beloved vocation for my sake. if we come out alive from the siege, and the virgin del pilar grants me life, i intend to marry him quickly to a woman who is his equal in position and fortune." while he was saying this, we saw mariquilla candiola approaching us, sobbing; on coming up to me she asked,-- "señor de araceli, have you seen my father?" "no, señorita doña mariquilla," i answered, "i have not seen him since yesterday. it may be that he is in the ruins of his house, busying himself trying to get something out." "no, he is not," said mariquilla, anxiously; "i have looked for him everywhere." "have you been over back here, near san diego? señor candiola sometimes goes to look at his house los duendes, to see if it has been destroyed." "i am going there instantly!" as she disappeared, montoria said, "she is, i am told, the daughter of the miser candiola. faith, she's very pretty, and does not look like the daughter of such a wolf--god forgive me, i mean good man." "she's not bad looking," said the friar; "but i imagine she's a good one. saints don't come of candiola timber." "one must not speak ill of one's neighbor," said don josé. "candiola is nobody's neighbor. the girl is always in the company of the soldiers since they lost their house." "she goes among them to help take care of the wounded." "it may be; but it looks to me as if she likes best those who are strong and hearty. her charming little face does not show a whiff of shame." "you snake in the grass!" "it is the truth," said the friar. "she's a chip of the old block. do they not say all sorts of things about her mother, pepa rincon?" "perhaps she used to take a little something to make her happy." "it's not a bad kind of happiness. when she was abandoned by her third gallant, señor don jeronimo took charge of her." "enough of scandal," said montoria. "even when we talk of the worst people in the world, we can at least leave them to their own consciences." "i would not give a farthing for the souls of all the candiolas put together," replied the friar. "but there comes the señor don jeronimo, if i am not mistaken. he has seen us, and is coming over here." candiola was indeed coming slowly along the coso, and came up to the convent door. "good-evening to you, señor don jeronimo," said montoria. "i live in hope that our grudge is all gone." "a moment ago your innocent young daughter was here looking for you," said luengo, maliciously. "where is she?" "she has gone to san diego," said a soldier. "maybe some of the french about here have carried her off." "perhaps they respect her, knowing that she is the daughter of señor don jeronimo," said luengo. "is this true, friend candiola, that they are telling about here?" "what?" "that you have been inside the french lines, holding confabs with that mob?" "i? what vile calumny!" exclaimed the miser. "my enemies are saying that to ruin me. is it you, señor de montoria, who have set these stories going?" "not even in thought," said the patriot; "but i have certainly heard others say it. i remember defending you, assuring them that señor candiola is incapable of selling himself to the french." "my enemies, my enemies wish to ruin me! what calumnies they invent against me! they wish to make me lose my honor, since i have lost my estate. gentlemen, my house in the calle de la sombra has lost part of its roof. is there any such trouble as mine! the one that i have here back of san francisco, next to the garden of san diego, is still preserved; but it is occupied by the troops, and they will finish it for me, and it's a beauty." "that house is worth very little, señor don jeronimo," said the friar. "if i have not forgotten, it is ten years since anybody would live in it." "that is because some crazy people gave out that it has ghosts in it. but let us drop that. have you seen my daughter about here?" "that virginal white lily has gone over to san diego in search of her amiable papa." "my daughter has lost all her good sense." "something of that sort." "yet señor de montoria is all to blame for it. my wicked enemies give me no time to breathe." "what do you say?" exclaimed my protector. "how am i to blame for what this child has inherited of the evil ways of her mother? i mean to say (my cursed tongue!) that her mother was an exemplary lady." "the insults and scorn of señor montoria do not affect me," said the miser, with biting contempt. "instead of insulting me, the señor don josé ought to keep his son augustine in order, that libertine who has turned my daughter's head. no, i will not give her to him in marriage, though he begs on his knees. he wants to rob me of her. a pretty fellow, that don augustine! no, no, he shall not have her for a wife. she can do better, much better, my mariquilla!" don josé de montoria turned white on hearing this, and stepped hastily towards candiola, with the intention doubtless of renewing the scene in the calle de anton trillo. but he restrained himself, and said in a mournful voice,-- "my god, give me strength to govern my anger. is it possible to keep my temper and to have humility in the presence of this man? i asked his pardon for the wrong which i did him. i humbled myself before him. i offered him a friendly hand; and now he is here injuring and insulting me in the most disgusting fashion. wretched man! beat me, kill me, drink all my blood, and sell my bones afterwards to make buttons; but let not that vile tongue of yours cast ignominy upon my beloved son. what is this that you say about my augustine?" "the truth." "i do not know how to contain myself! gentlemen, witness my self-control. i do not wish to let myself go. i do not wish to trample on any one. i do not wish to offend god. i forgive this man his calumnies; but on condition that he quit my presence at once, because seeing him i cannot answer for myself." candiola, alarmed at these words, entered the convent gate. father luengo took montoria down the coso. at the same time there began to be heard among the soldiers there an angry murmur which indicated sentiments hostile to the father of mariquilla, who, accustomed to this sort of thing, did not realize that it was anything unusual. he tried to get away, as they pushed him from one to the other; but they held him, and, without knowing exactly how, he was brought swiftly into the cloister by the threatening group. then a voice cried, in angry accents,-- "to the well, throw him into the well!" candiola was seized by many hands, pounded and torn, and pulled about more than ever before. "he is one of those who go about distributing french bribes to the troops," said one. "yes, yes!" cried others. "yesterday they say that he was walking about in the market distributing money." "gentlemen," said the unfortunate man, in a choked voice, "i swear to you that i have never distributed any money." and this was the truth. "last night they say he was seen sneaking over into the french camp." "he did not come back until morning. to the well with him!" one of my comrades and i tried for awhile to save candiola from certain death; but we only succeeded by force of prayers and persuasions, saying,-- "boys, do not commit an outrage. what harm can this ridiculous old wretch do?" "it is true," said candiola, with the calmness of despair; "what harm can i do who am always busy aiding those in need? do not kill me! you are soldiers of the estremadura and las peñas de san pedro; you are all good fellows. you were burning those houses in las tenerias where i found the chicken that i sold for a doubloon. who says that i sell myself to the french? i hate them; i cannot bear to look at them; and i love you as my own life. i have lost everything. leave me my life, at least." these pleadings, and my prayers and those of my friend, softened the soldiers a little; and, when their first outburst of anger was over, it was easy for us to save the wretched old man. the soldiers were presently relieved, and he was in perfect safety; but he never even thanked us when we offered him a bit of bread, after saving his life. a little later, when he recovered his breath enough to walk, he went on out of the street and joined his daughter. chapter xxvii that afternoon almost all the efforts of the french were directed against the suburb from the left of the ebro. they assaulted the monastery of jesus, and bombarded the church of the virgin del pilar, where the greater number of sick and infirm had found refuge, believing that the sanctity of the place offered them greater security than any other spot. in the centre of the city, we did not work much that day. all our attention was concentrated upon the mines, and our efforts directed to giving the enemy evidence that, before consenting to be blown up ourselves, we would discuss blowing them up, or at least flying upwards together. at night both armies seemed given over to peaceful repose. the rough blows of the pick were no longer heard in the subterranean galleries. i sallied forth; and near san diego i found augustine and mariquilla, who were talking quietly together, seated sedately upon the doorstep of the house los duendes. they were very glad to see me; and i joined them, sharing the scraps of bread of which they were making their supper. "we have nowhere to stay," said mariquilla. "we were in a portico in the organo alley; but we were driven out. why is it that so many people detest my poor father? what harm has he done them? we took refuge afterwards in a corner of the calle de las urreas, and were driven out of there too. we sat down afterwards under an arch in the coso, and all those who were there fled away from us. my father was furious." "mariquilla of my heart," said augustine, "let us hope that the siege will soon be finished by some means or other. i hope that god will let us both die, if living we may not be happy. i do not know why, among so many misfortunes, my heart is full of hope; i do not know why i have such happy thoughts, and think constantly of a cheerful future. why not? must everything be dreadful and unfortunate? the troubles of my family have been very great. my mother neither receives nor desires to receive any consolation. nobody is able to get her away from the place where the bodies of my brother and my nephew are; and when by force we take her to ever so great a distance, she immediately begins to drag herself along over the stones of the street to try and return. she and my sister and my sister-in-law are pitiable to see, refusing to take food, and in their prayers deliriously confusing the names of all the saints. this afternoon we have at last contrived to carry them to a sheltered spot where we obliged them to get a little repose, and to take a little food. mariquilla, how sadly god has dealt with my people! have i not reason to hope that at last he will pity us?" "yes," said mariquilla; "my heart tells me that we have passed the hard part of our life, and that now we shall have peaceful days. the siege will soon be finished; because, according to what my father says, this holding out can be only a matter of days. this morning i went to the pilar; when i knelt before the virgin, it seemed to me that our holy lady looked at me and smiled. then i came out of the church, my heart was beating with a keen delight. i looked at the sky, and the bombs seemed to me like toys; i looked at the wounded, and it seemed to me that they were all healed; i looked at the people, and could almost believe that they all felt the same happiness which was overflowing my bosom. i do not know how it is with me to-day, i am so happy. god and the virgin have surely taken pity on us; and this beating of my heart, this joyous restlessness, without care for what may happen, must mean good fortune after so many tears!" "all that you say is true," said augustine, holding mariquilla lovingly to him. "your presentiments are laws; your heart, one with the divine, cannot be deceived. listening to you, it seems to me as if the troubles that crush us melt away in the air, and i breathe with delight the breath of happiness. i hope that your father will not oppose your marrying me." "my father is good," said mariquilla. "i believe that if his neighbors in the city had not worried him so much that he would have been kinder. but they cannot bear the sight of him. this afternoon he was badly maltreated again in the cloister of san francisco, and when he joined me in the coso he was furious, and swore that he would be revenged. i tried to quiet him, but all in vain. they drive us away from everywhere. he doubled up his fists, and angrily threatened those who were there near us. afterwards, he ran away and came here. i thought he was coming to see if they had destroyed this house, which is ours. i followed him. he turned towards me as if frightened at hearing my footsteps, and said to me, 'stupid meddler, who told you to follow me?' i answered nothing; but seeing that he advanced to the french lines, as if he meant to cross over, i tried to detain him, and said to him, 'father, where are you going?' then he answered, 'do you know that my friend who served last year in saragossa, the swiss captain don carlos lindener, is in the french army? i am going to see him. i remember that he owes me a certain amount.' he made me stay here, and went on. i am afraid that if his enemies know that he crossed over into the french lines, they will call him a traitor. i do not know whether it is the great affection that i have for him, but he seems to me incapable of such action. i am afraid though that there is something wrong, and for this reason i long for the end of the siege. is it not true that it will soon be finished, augustine?" "yes, mariquilla, it will soon be finished, and we will be married. my father wishes me to marry." "who is your father? what is his name? is it not time yet to tell me that?" "you shall know it another time. my father is one of the principal personages in saragossa, and much beloved. why wish to know more?" "yesterday i tried to inquire. i was curious. i asked several people i know that i met in the coso, 'do you know what gentleman it is who has lost his eldest son?' but so many are like that, that they only laughed at me." "i will reveal it to you in good time, and when in telling it to you i can give you good news with it." "augustine, if i marry you, i wish that you would take me away from saragossa for several days. i want for a little time to see other houses, other trees, other scenes. i wish to live for some days in places where these things are not, among which i have suffered so much." "yes, mariquilla, my soul," exclaimed montoria, quite carried away; "we will go wherever we please, far away from here, to-morrow even; no, not to-morrow, for the siege will not be raised. day after to-morrow, in short, sometime, when--god wills it." "augustine," added mariquilla, in a sleepy voice, "i wish that, after we return from our journey, that we might rebuild the house where i was born. the cypress-tree is still standing." mariquilla's head drooped forward, showing that she was half overcome with sleep. "do you want to go to sleep, you poor little thing?" my friend said to her, taking her in his arms. "i have not slept at all for several nights," replied the girl, closing her eyes. "anxiety, sorrow, and fear have kept me awake. to-night weariness overcomes me, and i am so peaceful now that it makes me wish to go to sleep." "sleep in my arms, mariquilla," said augustine; "and may the peace that now fills thy soul not leave thee when thou wakest." after a little while, when we thought her sleeping, mariquilla, half asleep and half awake, said,-- "augustine, i do not wish my good doña guedita to leave me; she took such good care of us when we were first engaged. you see now i was right in telling you that my father was in the french camp to collect his bill--" then she spoke no more, and slept profoundly. augustine sat upon the ground, holding her on his knees and in his arms. i covered her feet with my cloak. augustine and i were silent, so that our voices might not disturb the sleep of the young girl. the place was deserted enough. just back of us was the casa los duendes, close by the convent of san francisco, and opposite the college of san diego, with its orchard surrounded by high mud walls which opened upon irregular and narrow alleys. through these marched the sentinels who had been relieved, and the platoons going to the picket lines or coming from there. the truce was complete, and this repose signified a great battle on the following day. suddenly the silence permitted me to hear muffled blows under us, in the depths of the earth. i understood that the french miners had reached this point with their picks, and told augustine what i imagined it must be. he listened attentively; then he said to me,-- "that seems indeed like mining. but how did they come here? the galleries that they made from the jerusalem were all cut off by ourselves. how would they be able to take a step without meeting our men?" "this noise indicates that they are mining from san diego. they have a part of that building. until now they have not been able to reach the wine-cellars of the convent of san francisco. if, by bad luck, they have discovered that the passage from san diego to san francisco is easy by the way under this house, it is probable that this is the passage that is being opened now." "run this instant to the convent," he said to me. "go down into the cellar, and if you hear the noise, tell renovales what is going on. if anything happens, call me, and i will follow." augustine remained alone with mariquilla. i went to the san francisco, and going down into the cellar met, together with other patriots, an official of the engineers, who, when i had expressed my fears, said to me,-- "they would not be able to get here by the galleries under the calle de santa engracia from the jerusalem and the hospital, because our mine has made theirs useless, and a few of our men will be able to keep them back. under this edifice we control the underground chambers of the church, the wine-cellars, and the other cellars which lead towards the cloister at the east. there is a part of the convent which has not been mined, at the west and south; but, there are no cellars there, and we did not believe it worth while to open galleries, because it is not probable that they would approach us from the two sides. we hold the next house; and i have examined it underground, and found that the cellar was almost joined to those of the chapter house. if they controlled the house los duendes, it would be easy to carry explosives and blow up all the southern and western part; but that house is ours, and from it to the french positions opposite san diego and santa rosa is a long distance. it is not probable that they will attack us in that place, and i do not know that there is any existing communication between the house and san diego or santa rosa which would permit them to advance without making it known." we remained talking over this matter until morning. at break of day augustine came, very happy, and saying that he had found a lodging for mariquilla in the same place where his family was established. then we prepared for a strong effort that day, because the french, who already held the hospital, or rather its ruins, threatened to attack the san francisco, not by the underground way, but in the open, and by the light of the sun. chapter xxviii the possession of san francisco would decide the fate of the city. that vast edifice, situated in the middle of the coso, gave an incontestable superiority to the side which occupied it. the french began cannonading it very early, with the intention of opening a breach for the assault; and the saragossans transferred thither the greater part of their forces to defend it. as the number of soldiers was now greatly decreased, a large number of leading citizens, who until then had not served except as aids, took up arms. cereso, sas, la casa, pidrafita, escobar, leiva, don josé de montoria,--all these good patriots hastened to be among them. in the narrow entrance of the calle de san gil, and in the archway of cineja, there were cannon to restrain the enemy's advance. i was sent to serve these pieces, with other soldiers of the estremadura regiment, because there were scarcely any artillerymen left. when i took leave of augustine, who remained in the san francisco in the face of the enemy, we embraced, believing that we should never see each other again. don josé de montoria, finding himself in the barricade of la cruz del coso, got a gunshot in the leg, and had to retire; but leaning against the wall of a house next to the arch of cineja, he kept on fighting for some time, until he brought on a hemorrhage, and at last finding himself very faint, he called me, and said to me,-- "señor de araceli, something is in my eyes. i cannot see anything. curse this blood, how fast it runs out when it is most necessary to keep it. won't you lend me a hand?" "señor," i said, running to him, and holding him up, "it would be better for you to retire to your lodging." "no, here is where i want to be. but, señor de araceli, if i keep on bleeding, where the devil is all this blood going? it seems to me as if my legs are stuffed with cotton. i am falling to the ground like an empty bag." he made tremendous efforts of endurance, but almost lost consciousness, more from the serious nature of his wound, than merely from loss of blood, after being without food and sleep, and in such trouble during these past days. although he begged us to leave him there against the wall, so that he should not miss a single detail of the battle, we carried him to his lodging, which was also in the coso, at the corner of the calle del refugio. the family had been installed in an upper room. the house was all full of wounded, and the numbers of bodies deposited there very nearly obstructed the entrance. it was difficult to get through the narrow doorway and the rooms within, because the men who had gone there to die, crowded the place, and it was not easy to distinguish between the living and the dead. montoria said, when we entered there, "don't carry me upstairs, boys, where my family is. leave me here below. here i see a counter which just suits my purpose." we put him where he said. this lower story was a shop. several of the wounded and victims of the epidemic who had died that day were under the counter, and many of the sick were lying upon the infected ground on pieces of cloth. "let us see," he said, "if there is any charitable soul who will try a little to stop the gap where the blood comes out." a woman came forward to care for the wounded man. it was mariquilla candiola. "god bless you, child," said don josé, seeing that she was bringing lint and linen to bandage him. "enough for now that you patch up this leg a little. i don't believe there are any bones broken." while this was going on, some twenty peasants came into the house to fire from the windows upon the ruins of the hospital. "señor de araceli, are you not going on firing? wait a moment until i get up, for i don't seem able to walk alone. i command you to fire from the window. that's a good shot. don't let them have time to breathe over there at the hospital. look here, lass, make haste! haven't you a knife? it would be a good thing to cut off this piece of flesh that's hanging. how goes it, señor de araceli? are we going to win?" "it's going all right," i answered from the window. "they are falling back at the hospital. san francisco is a bone that is a little hard to pick." mariquilla, meanwhile, was looking fixedly at montoria, and following his instructions in caring for him with much solicitude and deftness. "you are a jewel, child," said my friend. "it seems to me that i can scarcely feel your hands upon my wound. but what makes you look at me so much? does my face look like a monkey's? let's see, is it finished? i will try to get up. but i am not able to sit up. what sort of weak water is this in my veins! porr--i was going to say--i don't seem able to correct that bad habit! señor de araceli, i don't do very well with my soul. how goes the battle?" "señor, a thousand marvels! our valiant peasants are working wonders!" here a wounded officer was brought in for whom a ligature was wanted. "everything goes as we would desire it to go," he said to us. "they will not take san francisco. those in the hospital have been repulsed three times. but the most wonderful thing, señors, took place beside san diego. i saw the french gain the orchard joining the house los duendes, where they were met by the bayonets of those brave soldiers of orihuela commanded by pino-hermoso, who not only dislodged them, but they say killed a lot of them, and took thirty prisoners." "i wish to go there! viva the battalion of orihuela! viva the marquis of pino-hermoso!" exclaimed don josé de montoria, with tremendous fervor. "señor de araceli, let us go there! lift me up. isn't there a pair of crutches there? señors, my legs have given out. but i will go there in spirit. my heart is there. good-bye, child, beautiful little nurse. but what makes you look at me so? do you know me? i think i have seen your face somewhere, but i don't remember where." "i also have seen you once, only once," answered mariquilla, tactfully, "and god grant you do not remember me!" "i shall not forget your kindness," said montoria. "you seem to be a good girl, and very pretty, that's sure. i am very grateful, most grateful. but bring those crutches or a stick, señor de araceli. give me your arm. what is this which goes back and forth before my eyes? let us go over there and drive the french out of the hospital." dissuading him from his rash idea of going out, i started alone, when i heard an explosion so loud that no words have power to describe it. it seemed as if the whole city had been thrown into the air by the eruption of an immense volcano from beneath its foundations. all the houses trembled. the sky was obscured by an immense cloud of smoke and dust, and along the whole length of the street we saw pieces of wall falling, and shattered fragments, and beams, roofs, tiles, showers of earth, and all sorts of things. "holy virgin del pilar, save us!" exclaimed montoria. "it seems as if the whole world has blown up." the sick and the wounded were crying out, believing that their last hour had come. we all commended ourselves to god. "what is it? is saragossa still in existence?" one asked. "are we blown up too?" "this terrible explosion must have been in the convent of san francisco," said i. "let us run over there," cried montoria, trying to make strength of his weakness. "señor de araceli, did they not say that all precautions had been taken to defend san francisco? isn't there a pair of crutches anywhere here?" we went into the coso, where we were immediately assured of the fact that a large part of san francisco had been blown up. "my son was in the convent," said montoria, pale as the dead. "my god, if thou art resolved upon his death also, may he die for his country at the post of honor." the loquacious beggar of whom i made mention in the first pages now approached us, walking laboriously upon his crutches, and seeming in a very bad state of health. "sursum corda," i said to the patriot, "give me your crutches. you are doing no good with them." "do me the kindness to let me keep them to get to that doorway," said the cripple, "and then i will give them to you. i do not wish to die in the middle of the street." "are you dying?" "it seems like it. i am burning with fever. i was wounded in the shoulder yesterday, and nobody has taken out the ball. i feel that i am going. your honor may have the crutches." "have you come from san francisco?" "no, sir, i was in the arch del trenque. there was a cannon there. we had been firing a great deal. but san francisco has been blown into the air when we least expected it. the whole part to the south and the west came to the ground, burying many people. there has been treachery, people say. adios, señor don josé. here i stay. my eyes are getting dim. my tongue thickens. i am going, but the virgin del pilar will protect me. and here your honor has my oars." with them montoria got on slowly towards the scene of the catastrophe. but we had to go around by the calle san gil, because we could not get through directly. the french had ceased firing upon the convent from the hospital; but, assaulting by san diego, they quickly occupied the ruins, which we could not dispute with them. the church and the tower of san francisco remained standing. "eh, father luengo," said montoria, calling to the friar of that name, "what is it? where is the captain-general? has he perished in the ruins?" "no," replied the friar, stopping. "he is with officers in the plazuela de san felipe. i can announce the safety of your son augustine to you, because he was one of those who were occupying the tower." "blessed be god!" said don josé, crossing himself. "all the part at the south and the west has been destroyed," proceeded luengo. "i do not know how they have been able to mine in that place. they must have placed the mines under the chapter house. we had not mined there, believing that it was a safe place." an armed peasant who had come up said: "yes, and we had the next house, and the french, having possession of parts only of santa rosa and san diego, could not readily approach there." "as far as that is concerned," said an armed priest who had joined us, "it is supposed that they have found a secret passage-way between santa rosa and the house los duendes. being in possession of the cellars of that, they could, by digging a short gallery, get under the chapter house, which is quite near." "it is now known," said a captain of the army. "the house los duendes has a large cellar of which we knew nothing. from this cellar there was undoubtedly a communication with santa rosa. the house formerly belonged to the convent, and served it as a storehouse." "well, if this communication exists," said luengo, "i understand perfectly who has discovered it to the french. you know that when the enemy was repulsed in the orchard of san diego some prisoners were taken. among them was candiola, who during these past days has often visited the french camp, and last night went over to the enemy." "it must be so," said montoria; "because the house los duendes belongs to candiola. the damned jew knew very well the passage-ways and hiding places of that building. señors, let us go to see the captain-general. is it believed that the coso can still be defended?" "does it not have to be defended?" said a soldier. "after all, it is only a trifle which has happened, a few more dead. we will try to regain the church of san francisco." we all looked at that man who spoke so serenely of the impossible. the sublime terseness of his expression of perseverance seemed like a jest, and in that epoch of the incredible, similar jests were wont to end in reality. let those who hesitate to give credence to my words open the history, and they will see that some few dozens of men, wasted, famished, barefooted, and half-naked, some of them wounded, held out all that day in the tower. not content with holding it, they went out over the roof of the church, opening here and there many places in the roof, and paying no attention to the fire directed upon them from the hospital, they began to throw hand-grenades upon the french, obliging them to abandon the church when night came. all of the night was passed in attempts by the enemy to regain it; but they could not accomplish it until the following day, when the riflemen on the roof retired, passing to the house of sástago. chapter xxix will saragossa surrender? death to him who says it! saragossa will not surrender. she will be reduced to powder. of her historic houses, let not one brick remain upon another! let her hundred temples fall, the ground beneath her open, pouring out flames; let her foundations be hurled into the air; let her roofs fall into the pits that are opened,--but among the fragments and the dead there will always be one tongue left alive to say that saragossa will never surrender! the moment of supreme despair came. france was not fighting now, but mining. it was necessary to destroy the soil of the nation in order to conquer it. half the coso was hers, but spain retreated only to the opposite pavement. by las tenerias and in the suburb on the left they had obtained some advantages; and their little mines did not rest for an instant. at last--it seems like a lie--we became accustomed to the explosions, as before we had become accustomed to the bombardment. at worst we heard a noise like that of a thousand thunder-claps all at once. what has happened? nothing, the university, the chapel de la sangre, the casa de aranda, such a convent or chapel exists no longer. it was not like living on our peaceful and quiet planet. it was like having the birthplace of thunderbolts for a dwelling-place, like being in a disordered world, where everything was heaving up and unhinging. there was no place to live, because the ground was no longer ground. under every shrub or plant a crater was opening. and yet those men went on defending themselves against the crushing horrors of a never-stilled volcano and a ceaseless tempest. lacking fortresses, they had used the convents; lacking convents, the palaces; when the palaces failed, the humble houses. there were still some partition walls. they did not eat now. of what use, when death was expected from one moment to the next? thousands of men perished in the explosions, and the epidemic had risen to its height of horror. one might go by chance unharmed through the shower of balls, then on turning a street corner, dreadful chills and fever would suddenly take possession of his frame, and in a little while he would be dead. there were no longer kinsfolk or friends; men did not even know one another, their faces blackened by smoke, by earth, by blood, disfigured, cadaverous. meeting one another after a combat they would ask, "who are you?" the belfries no longer sounded the alarm, because there were no bell-ringers. one heard no more the proclamations by criers, because proclamations were no longer published. mass was not said, because there were no more priests. nobody sang the jota now. the voices of the dying people were husky in their throats. from hour to hour a funereal silence was conquering the city. only the cannon spoke. the advance guards of the two nations no longer took the trouble to exchange insults. instead of madness, everybody was full of sadness; and the dying city fought on in silence, so that no atom of strength need be lost in idle words. the necessity of surrender was now the general idea; but none showed it, guarding it in the depths of conscience as he would conceal a crime which he was about to commit. surrender! it seemed an impossibility, a word too difficult. to perish would be easier! one day passed after the explosion of san francisco; it was a horrible day which seemed to have no existence in time, but only in the fanciful realm of the imagination. i had been in the calle de las arcadas a little before the greater number of its houses fell. i ran afterwards to the coso, to fulfil a commission with which i had been charged, and i remember that the heavy infected air choked me so that i could scarcely walk. on the way i saw the same child that i had seen several days before, alone and crying in the quarter of las tenerias. he was still alone and crying, and the poor child had his hands in his mouth as if he were eating his fingers. in spite of that, nobody noticed him. i also passed him by indifferently; but, afterwards a little voice reproached me, and i turned back, and took him with me, giving him some bits of bread. my commission accomplished, i ran to the plazuela de san felipe, where, since the affair of las arcadas, were the few men of my battalion who were still alive. it was now night; and although there had been firing in the coso between one sidewalk and the other, my comrades were held in reserve for the following day, because they were dropping with fatigue. on arriving, i saw a man who wrapped in his military cloak was walking up and down, taking notice of nobody. it was augustine montoria. "augustine, is it thou?" i asked, going up to him. "how pale and changed thou art? have they wounded thee?" "let me alone," he answered bitterly, "i am in no mood for comrades." "are you mad? what has happened to you?" "leave me," he answered, pushing me away, "i tell you that i want to be alone. i do not want to see anybody." "friend!" i cried, understanding that some terrible trouble was on the soul of my companion, "if misfortune is upon you, tell it to me, and let me share your sorrow." "do you not know it, then?" "i know nothing. you know that i was sent with twenty men to the calle de las arcades. since yesterday, since the explosion of san francisco, you and i have not seen each other." "it is true," he replied. "i have sought death in this barricade of the coso, and death has passed me by. numberless comrades fell beside me, and there was not one ball for me. gabriel, my dear friend, put the barrel of one of your pistols to my temple and tear out my life. would you believe it? a little while ago i tried to kill myself. i do not know--but it seemed as if an invisible hand came and took the weapon from my temple, then another hand, soft and warm, passed over my brow." "calm yourself, augustine, and tell me what is the matter." "what the matter is with me? what time is it?" "nine o'clock." "it lacks an hour," he cried, trembling nervously. "sixty minutes. it may be the french have mined this plazuela de san felipe where we are, and perhaps in a moment the earth will leap under our feet and open a horrible gulf in which we shall all be buried,--all, the victim and the executioners." "what victim is that?" "the unfortunate candiola. he is shut up in the torre nueva." in the doorway of the torre nueva there were some soldiers, and a faint light illumined the entrance. "of course," i said, "i know that that infamous old man was taken prisoner with some of the french in the orchard of san diego." "his crime is unquestioned. he showed the enemy the passage, known to him alone, from santa rosa to his house los duendes. besides, there being no lack of proof, the unhappy man has to-night confessed all, in the hope of saving his life." "they have condemned him?" "yes, the council of war did not discuss it long. candiola will be shot within an hour. there he is, and here you are. here am i, gabriel, captain of the battalion of las peñas de san pedro. these cursed epaulets! here am i with an order in my pocket which commands me to execute the sentence at ten o'clock at night here in this very place, in the plazuela de san felipe, at the foot of the tower. do you see it? do you see this order? it is signed by general saint march." i was silent; because i could not think of one word to say to my companion in that terrible hour. "courage, my friend!" i cried at last. "you must obey the order!" augustine did not hear me. he acted like a madman, and tore himself away from me, only to return a second later, uttering words of desperation, then looking at the tower which, splendid and tall, lifted itself above our heads crying with terror,-- "gabriel, do you not see it? don't you see the tower? don't you see that it is straight, gabriel? the tower has been made straight!" i looked at the tower, and, naturally, the tower was still leaning. "gabriel," said augustine, "kill me! i do not want to live. no, i will not take life from that man. you must take the order. i, if i live, must run away. i am sick. i will tear off these epaulets, and throw them in the face of general saint march. no, do not tell me that the torre nueva is still leaning. why, man, do you not see that it is straight? my friend, you deceive me. my heart is pierced as by red-hot steel, and my blood burns within me. i am dying of the pain." i was trying to console him, when a white figure entered the plaza by the calle de torresecas. on seeing her i trembled, for it was mariquilla. augustine did not have time to flee, and the distressed girl embraced him, exclaiming eagerly in her emotion,-- "augustine! augustine! thank god, i have found you here! how much i love you! when they told me that you were the jailer of my father, i was wild with delight, for i know that you will save him. those savages of the council have condemned him to death. he to die who has done harm to no one! but god does not wish the innocent to perish, and he has put him in your hands, so that you may let him escape!" "oh, my heart's mariquilla," said augustine, "leave me, i pray you! i don't wish to see you. to-morrow--to-morrow we will talk. i love you, too. i am mad for you. let saragossa perish, but don't leave off loving me! they expected me to kill your father." "oh, god, do not say that!" cried the girl. "thou!" "no, a thousand times no! let others punish his treachery." "no, it is a lie! my father is not a traitor. do you also accuse him? i never have believed it. augustine, it is night. untie his hands; take off the fetters that hurt his feet. set him at liberty. no one can see. we will flee. we will hide ourselves in the ruins of our house, there by the cypress where so many times we have seen the spire of the torre nueva." "mariquilla, wait a little," said montoria, with great agitation. "this cannot be done so. there are many people in the plaza. the soldiers are greatly incensed against the prisoner. to-morrow--" "to-morrow! what do you say? you are laughing at me. set him at liberty this instant. augustine, if you do not do it, i shall believe that i have loved the most vile, the most cowardly, the most despicable of men." "mariquilla, god hears us. god knows that i adore you. by him i swear that i will not stain my hands with the blood of this unhappy man. i will sooner break my sword. but--in the name of god, i tell you also that i cannot set your father at liberty. mariquilla, heaven is against us." "augustine, you are deceiving me," said the girl, anguished and bewildered. "do you tell me that you will not set him at liberty?" "oh, no, i cannot. if god should come in human form to ask of me the freedom of him who sold our heroic peasants, delivered them up to the french sword, i would not do it. it is a supreme duty, in which one cannot fail. the innumerable victims immolated by his treachery, the city surrendered, the national honor outraged, are things which weigh too strongly upon my conscience." "my father cannot have done this deed of treachery," she said, passing at once from grief to an exalted and nervous anger; "these are calumnies of his enemies. they lie who call him traitor, and you, more cruel and more inhuman than all, you lie also! it is not possible that i have loved you! it causes me shame to think of it. you say you will not free him? then of what good are you? do you hope to gain favor by your bloody cruelty of those inhuman barbarians who have destroyed the city, imagining that they were defending it? to you the life of the innocent is of no consequence, nor the desolation of an orphan. miserable, ambitious egoist, i abhor you more than i have ever loved you! you thought that you would be able to present yourself before me with your hands stained with the blood of my father? no, he is not a traitor. you are traitors, all of you. my god, is there no generous hand to help me? among so many men, is there not even one to prevent this crime? a poor woman runs through all the city looking for a friendly soul, and does not find anything but wild beasts." "mariquilla," said augustine, "you are lacerating my soul. you ask the impossible of me, that which i will not do, and cannot do, although you offer me eternal blessedness for payment. i have sacrificed all, and i knew that you would abhor me. think what it is for a man to tear out his own heart and trample it in the mud. i have done that. i can do no more." the fervent exaltation of mariquilla candiola carried her from intense anger to pathetic sensitiveness of suffering. she had showed her anger with fiery heat, now she burst into bitter tears, expressing herself thus,-- "what mad things i have said! and what madness hast thou said, augustine! how i have loved you, and how i do love you!--from the time i saw you first at our house. you have never been absent from my thoughts for a moment. you have been to me the most loving, the most generous, the most thoughtful, the bravest of all men. i loved you without knowing who you were. i did not know your name, or that of your parents; but i would have loved you if you had been the son of the hangman of saragossa. augustine, you have forgotten me since we have not been together. it is i, mariquilla. i have all this time believed, and i believe now that you will not take away from me my good father whom i love as much as i love you. he is good. he has not hurt anybody. he is a poor old man. he has some faults; but i do not see them. i do not see anything in him but virtues. i never knew my mother, who died when i was very small. i have lived retired from the world. my father has brought me up in solitude. in solitude the great love that i bear you has been nourished. if i had never known you, the whole world would have been nothing to me without him!" i could read clearly montoria's indecision in his face. he was looking with terrified eyes, now at the girl, now at the sentinels at the entrance of the tower. the daughter of candiola, with admirable instinct, knew how to make use of that evidence of weakness. throwing her arms around his neck, she cried,-- "augustine, set him at liberty! we will hide where no one can find us. if they say anything to you, if they accuse you of having failed in duty, do not take any notice of them. come with me. how my father will love you, seeing you have saved his life! then what happiness is before us, augustine. how good you are! i was expecting it, and when i knew that the poor prisoner was in your hands, i felt the gates of heaven were open!" my friend took a few steps, then drew back. there were plenty of soldiers and armed men in the plazuela. suddenly there appeared before us a man on crutches, accompanied by several officials of high rank. "what is going on here?" asked don josé de montoria. "it seemed to me i heard the cries of a woman. augustine, are you weeping? what is the matter?" "señor," said mariquilla, in alarm, turning to montoria. "you will not at all oppose their setting my father at liberty? do you not remember me? you were wounded yesterday, and i cared for you." "it is true, child," said don josé gravely; "i am very grateful. now i see that you are the daughter of señor candiola." "yes, sir. yesterday, when i was attending you, i recognized in you the man who ill-treated my father some time ago." "yes, my daughter, it was a sudden thing--a hasty--i can't help it. i have very quick blood. and you took care of me? that is the way good christians do, returning good for evil, paying back injuries with benefits, and to do good to them that hate us is what god commands." "señor," exclaimed mariquilla, dissolved in tears. "i forgive my enemies. do you also forgive yours? why do they not free my father? he has not done anything." "this thing that you ask is a little difficult. the treachery of señor candiola is unpardonable. the troops are furious." "it is all a mistake. if you would intercede! you must be one of the commanders." "i!" said montoria, "that is a business which does not rest on me. but calm yourself, young woman. you seem to be a good girl; truly, i remember the attention with which you took care of me, and such goodness touches my soul. i did you a great wrong, and from the same person whom i injured i received a great good, perhaps life itself. in such ways god teaches us to be humble and charitable, porr--i was just going to let it go, this cursed tongue of mine!" "señor, how good you are!" cried the girl; "and i thought you were very bad. you will help me to save my father. he does not lay up the outrage he received." "listen," said montoria, taking her by the arm. "not long ago i asked pardon of señor don jeronimo for all that; and far from being reconciled with me, he insulted me in the most gross manner. he and i do not pull together, child. if you tell me that you forgive me that matter of the blows, my conscience will be free of a great weight." "indeed, there is nothing for me to forgive you. oh, señor, how good you are! you command here surely. then cause my father to be set free!" "that is none of my business. señor candiola has committed a terrible crime. it is impossible to pardon him, impossible! i understand your affliction, and truly i feel it, especially in remembering your kindness. i will protect you. we shall see." "i do not wish for anything for myself," said mariquilla, whose voice was now hoarse with her emotion. "i only wish that an unfortunate man who has done nothing should be set at liberty. augustine, are you not in command here? what are you doing?" "this young man will do his duty," said montoria. "this young man," cried mariquilla, angrily, "will do what i bid him, because he loves me. isn't it true that you will free my father? you said you would. señors, what are you here for? do you intend to stop him? augustine, do not pay any attention to them; defend us!" "what is all this?" exclaimed montoria, in amazement. "augustine, have you told this girl that you have any idea of failing in your duty? do you know her?" augustine, overcome by his fear, answered nothing. "yes, he will set him at liberty," said mariquilla, in despair. "go away from here, señors. you have no business here." "what am i to understand?" cried don josé, seizing his son by his arm. "if what this girl says should be true, if i could imagine that my son's honor could fail in this fashion, his loyalty sworn to his flag be trampled underfoot,--if i supposed that my son could make light of the orders with whose fulfilment he has been charged, i myself would tie him and drag him before the council of war that he might get his just reward." "señor, oh, my father," said augustine, pale as death, "i have never thought of failing in my duty." "is that your father?" said mariquilla. "augustine, tell him that you love me, and perhaps he will have compassion on me." "this girl is mad," said don josé. "unhappy child, your trouble touches my heart. i charge myself with protecting you in your orphanhood. yes, i will protect you as long as you reform your habits. poor little one, you have a good heart, an excellent heart. but,--yes--i have heard, a little inclined to be giddy. it is a pity that by being badly brought up a good soul should be lost. but you will be good? i think you will!" "augustine, how can you permit me to be insulted?" said mariquilla, with overwhelming grief. "it is not insult," said the father, "it is good counsel. how could i insult my benefactress? i believe that if you behave yourself well, we shall have a great affection for you. remain under my protection, poor orphan. why do you talk so to my son? it is nothing, nothing; have better sense; and enough for now of all this agitation. the lad perhaps knows you. yes, i have been told that during the siege you have not left the company of the soldiers. now you must reform. i charge myself--i cannot forget the kindness i have received. and besides i know that you are good at heart. that is not a deceitful face. you have a heavenly form. but it is necessary to renounce worldly enjoyments, refrain from vice--then--" "no!" cried augustine, suddenly, with so lively an outburst of anger that all of us trembled at seeing him and hearing him. "no! i will not consent that any one, not even my father, should insult her before me. i love her! and if i have concealed it before, i tell it now, without fear or shame, for all the world to know! sir, you do not know what you are saying, nor how you miss the truth! you have been deceived. you may kill me, if i fail in respect, but do not defame her before me; because if i should hear again what i have heard, not even the fact that you are my own father could restrain me!" montoria, not expecting this, looked about in amazement at his friends. "good, augustine!" cried mariquilla. "do not pay any attention to these people. this man is not your father. do what your heart tells you to do. go away, señors! go away!" "you are mistaken, mariquilla," replied the young man; "i have not intended to free the prisoner, nor shall i do so; but at the same time i tell you that it will not be i who will take his life. there are officers in my battalion who will carry out the order. i am no longer a soldier. although we are in the face of the enemy, i break my sword, and hasten to the captain-general that he may decide my fate." as he said this, he drew his sword, and, doubling the blade across his knee, he broke it, and after throwing the two pieces into the middle of our circle, he went without another word. "i am all alone! there is no one to help me!" cried mariquilla, faintly. "gentlemen, pay no attention to the affairs of my son. i will take that upon myself. perhaps the girl has interested him. that is of little consequence. these inexperienced ecclesiastics are very likely to be taken in. and you, señora doña mariquilla, try to calm yourself. we will look after you. i promise you that, if you behave yourself, you will later enter into repentance. come, let us take her away from here!" "no, no! nobody shall tear me away from here, except in bits," said the girl, with the calmness of despair. "oh, señor don josé de montoria, will you not ask them to pardon my father? if he would not forgive you, i forgive you a thousand times. but--" "i cannot do what you ask of me," said the patriot, sadly. "the crime committed is enormous. you must go away. what terrible grief! it is necessary to resign yourself. god will pardon you all your faults, poor orphan. rely upon me, and all that i can do--we will take care of you. we will help you. i am moved not by gratitude alone but by pity. come, come with me. it lacks only a quarter to ten." "señor montoria," said mariquilla, kneeling before the patriot, and kissing his hands, "you have influence in the city, and can save my father. you are angry with me because augustine said he loved me. no, i will not love him. i will not see him any more. i am an honest girl; but he is above me, and i cannot think of marrying him. señor de montoria, by the soul of your dead son, help me! my father is innocent. no, it is not possible that he could have been a traitor. if the holy spirit should tell me, i would not believe it. they say that he was no patriot. i say it is a lie. they say that he did not give anything for the war; but now everything that we have shall be given. there is a great deal of money buried in the cellar of the house. i will tell you where it is, and they can take it all. they say that he has not taken up arms. i will take arms now. i am not afraid of the balls. the noise of the cannon does not terrify me. i am not afraid of anything. i will run to the places of greatest danger, and there, where the men can do nothing, i will go into the fire. i will dig in the mines with my own hands, and make holes for the powder under all the ground occupied by the french. tell me if there is some castle to take, or some wall to defend; because i fear nothing, and of all living beings in saragossa, i shall be the last to surrender." "unhappy girl!" said the patriot, lifting her from the ground, "let us go, let us go from here!" "señor de araceli," said the head of our forces, who was present, "as captain augustine montoria is not in his place, you are intrusted with the command of this company." "no, assassins of my father!" exclaimed mariquilla, furious as a lion; "you shall not kill the innocent! cowards! executioners! you are the traitors, not he! you cannot conquer your enemies, so you enjoy taking life from an unfortunate old man. soldiers, how can you talk of your honor, when you do not know what honor is? augustine, where art thou! señor don josé de montoria, this is a contemptible vengeance planned by you, a spiteful and heartless man! my father has done wrong to no one, and you tried to rob him. he was right in not wishing to give you his flour, for you who call yourselves patriots are tradesmen who speculate in the misfortunes of the city. i cannot extort from these cruel men one compassionate word. men of brass, barbarians! my father is innocent, and if he were not, he would have done well in selling such a city. they would easily give more than you are worth. but is there not one, one single one, to pity him and me?" "come, let us take her away, let us carry her off, señors," said montoria. "this cannot be prolonged. what has my son done with himself?" they took her away, and for a time i could hear her heart-rending cries. "good-night, señor de araceli," said montoria to me. "i am going to see if i can get a little wine and water for this poor orphan." chapter xxx horrible nightmare, leave me! i do not wish to sleep. but the bad dream which i long to fling from my remembrance returns to distress me. i wish i could blot from my memory the melancholy scene. but one night passes, and then another, and the scene is not blotted out. i, who on so many occasions have faced great dangers without winking an eyelash, i tremble now, and the cold sweat comes on my forehead. the sword bathed in french blood falls from my hand, and i shut my eyes in order not to see what passes before me. in vain i hurl thee away, dreadful vision! i expel thee, and thou dost return. thou art fast rooted in my memory. no, i am not capable of taking the life of a fellow-being in cold blood, though inexorable duty commands it. why did i not tremble in the trenches as i tremble now? i feel a mortal chill. by the light of lanterns i see sinister faces, one above all livid and sullen, that shows a terror greater than all other terrors. how the barrels of the guns gleam! all is ready, and but one word is lacking, my word. i try to pronounce the word, and i bite my tongue. no, that word will never come from my lips! away from me, black nightmare! i shut my eyes. i draw my eyelids closer, better to exclude thee, and the closer they are shut the plainer i see thee, horrible picture! they all wait with anxiety; but nothing is comparable to the state of my soul, rebelling against the law which obliges it to decide the end of another's existence. time passes, then eyes which i wish i had never seen disappear under the bandage. i cannot look at the scene; would that they had put a bandage over my eyes also! the soldiers look at me, and i frown to hide my cowardice. we mortals are stupid and vain even in supreme moments. the by-standers jested at my state, and that gave me a certain energy. i unglued my tongue from my palate, and cried,-- "fire!" the accursed nightmare will not go, and torments me to-night as it did last night, bringing again before me that which i do not wish to see. it is better not to sleep. i prefer wakefulness to this. i shake off the lethargy, and dread my vigil as before i abhorred the dream. always the same humming of the cannon. those insolent brass mouths do not cease to talk. ten days pass, and saragossa has not yet surrendered, because some madmen are still persistent in guarding for spain that heap of dust and ashes. the houses go on falling; and france, after establishing one foot, wastes armies and quintals of powder in gaining ground on which to set the other. spain will not give up as long as she has one paving-stone to serve as a lever for the immense machine of her bravery. i am almost lifeless. i cannot move. those men i see passing before me do not seem to be men. they are languid and emaciated, and their faces would be yellow, if dust and powder had not blackened them. eyes gleam under blackened eyebrows,--eyes that do not yet know how to look without taking aim. men are covered with unclean rags, and cloths are bound about their heads. they are so filthy that they seem like the dead raised from that heap in the calle de la imprenta, to show themselves among the living. from time to time among the smoky columns these dying ones come, and the friars murmur religious consolation to them. neither the dying understand, nor the friar knows what he says. religion itself goes half mad. generals, soldiers, peasants, priests, and women are all overwhelmed. there are no classes or sexes. the city is defended in anarchy. i do not know what happened me. do not ask me to go on with the story, for there is nothing more to tell. that which i see before my memory does not seem real, the true things being confused in my memory with those dreamed. i was stretched out in a gateway of the calle de la albarderia, shaking with cold, my left hand wrapped in a bloody, dirty cloth. the fever burned me, and i longed for strength to hasten to the front. they were not all corpses beside me. i reached out my hand and touched the arm of a friend who was still living. "what is going on, señor sursum corda?" "it seems that the french are on this side of the coso," he answered me, in a feeble voice. "they have blown up half of the city. may be we shall have to surrender. the captain-general has fallen ill with the epidemic, and is in the calle de predicadores. they think he is going to die. the french will enter. i rejoice that i shall die before i see that. how do you find yourself, señor de araceli?" "very bad off. i will see if i can get up." "i am alive yet, it seems. i did not think i should be. the lord be with me, i shall go straight to heaven. señor de araceli, have you died yet?" i got up and took a few steps. leaning against the walls, i advanced a little and came to the orphanage. some military officers of high rank were accompanying a short, slender ecclesiastic to the door, who dismissed them, saying, "we have done our duty, and human strength can compass nothing more." it was father basilio. a friendly arm held me up, and i recognized don roque. "gabriel, my friend," he said to me, in deep affliction, "the city surrenders this very day." "what city?" "this." as he said so, it seemed to me as if nothing remained in its place. men and houses all ran together confusedly. the torre nueva seemed to draw itself up to flee also, and in the distance its leaden casque fell from it. the flames of the city no longer gleamed. columns of black smoke moved from east to west. powder and ashes, raised by the whirling winds, moved in the same direction. the sky was no longer the sky, but a leaden canopy, strangely agitated. "everything is fleeing; everything is going from this place of desolation," i said to don roque. "the french will find nothing." "nothing. to-day they enter by the puerta del angel. they say that the capitulation has been honorable. look, here come the spectres who defend the plaza!" indeed along the coso filed the last combatants, one for every thousand of those who had faced the bullets and the epidemic. there were fathers without sons, brothers without brothers, husbands without wives. he who cannot find his own among the living is not at all sure of finding them among the dead, because there are fifty-two thousand corpses, almost all piled in the streets, the doorways, the cellars, the ditches. the french, on entering, halted affrighted at such a spectacle, and were almost on the point of retreating. tears streamed from their eyes, and they asked whether these were men or shadows, these poor creatures who fled at sight of them. a volunteer on entering his house stumbled over the bodies of his wife and children. a wife ran to the wall, to the trench, to the barricade to look for her husband; but no one knew where he was. the thousands of the dead did not speak; and could not tell whether her fulano was among them. many large families were exterminated, not one member was left. this saves many tears when death strikes with one blow the father and the orphan, the husband and the widow, the victim and the eyes that would have been forced to weep. france had at last set foot within that city built on the banks of the classic river which gives its name to our peninsula. they had conquered it without subduing it. on seeing the desolation of saragossa, the imperial army considered itself the grave-diggers of the heroic inhabitants, instead of their conquerors. fifty-three thousand lives were contributed by this aragonese city to those of the millions of creatures wherewith humanity paid for the military glories of the french empire. this sacrifice will not prove fruitless, for it was a sacrifice for an idea. the french empire,--a vain thing, a thing of circumstance, founded on fickle fortune, in audacity and the military genius that is always a second-rate quality when separated from service of the ideal,--this empire existed merely by its own self-worship. the french empire--i say, that tempest which disturbed the first years of the century, and whose lightnings and thunderbolts held europe in terror--passed, as tempests pass. the normal state in historic life, as in nature, is that of calm. we all saw it pass, and we viewed its death-agony in . we saw its resurrection a few years afterwards, but that also passed, overthrown by its own weight of pride. perhaps this old tree will sprout the third time; but it will not give grateful shade to the world during centuries, and will scarcely serve for mankind to warm itself by its last bits of wood. that which has not passed, nor shall pass, is the idea of nationality which spain defended against the right of conquest and usurpation. when other peoples succumbed, she maintained her right, defended it, and, sacrificing her own life-blood, hallowed it as martyrs hallowed the christian idea in the arena. the result is that spain, depreciated unjustly in the congress of vienna, disprized with reason for her civil wars, her bad governors, her disorders, her bankruptcy more or less declared, her immoral treaties, her extravagances, her bull-fights, and her proclamations, has never since seen the continuation of her nationality placed in any doubt. even to-day, when it seems that we have reached the last degree of abasement, offering more chance than poland for dismemberment, no one dares attempt the conquest of this house of madmen. men of little sense,--without any on occasion,--the spanish will to-day, as ever, die a thousand deaths, stumbling and rising in the struggle of their inborn vices with the great qualities which they still preserve, with those which they acquire slowly, and those which central europe sends them. providence holds in store for this people great advancings and abasements, great terrors and surprises, apparent deaths and mighty resurrections. her destiny is to be able to live in agitation like a salamander in fire; but her national permanency is and ever will be assured. chapter xxxi it was the twenty-first day of february. a man whom i did not know came up to me, and said,-- "come, gabriel, i have need of thee." "who are you?" i asked him. "i do not recognize you." "i am augustine montoria," he answered. "am i so much disfigured? they told me yesterday that you were dead. how i envied you! i see that you are as unfortunate as i, and that you are living still. do you know, my friend, what i have just seen? the body of mariquilla. it is in the calle de anton trillo, at the entrance of the garden. come, and we will bury her." "i am more in a condition to be buried myself than to bury anybody. who does that now? of what did this woman die?" "of nothing, gabriel, of nothing." "that is a singular death. i do not understand it." "mariquilla's body shows no wounds, nor any of the signs which the epidemic leaves in the face. she lies as if she had fallen asleep. her face rests upon the ground, and she holds her hands to her ears as if she were shutting out sounds." "she does well. the noise of the shooting disturbed her. it seems to me as if i could hear it yet." "come with me and help me. i have here a spade." i arrived with difficulty at the place where my friend and two other comrades conducted me. my eyes did not let me see anything very well, and i only saw a shadowy figure stretched out there. augustine and the other two raised the body, phantom or reality, which was there. i believe i made out her face, and on seeing it a great darkness fell upon my soul. "she has not the slightest wound," said augustine, "not one drop of blood is upon her. her eyelids are not swollen like those of the people who died of the epidemic. mariquilla has not died of anything. can you see her, gabriel? it seems as if this figure that i hold in my arms has never been alive. it seems as if she is a beautiful, waxen image that i have loved in my dreams, showing herself to me with life, speech, and action. do you see her? i see that all the inhabitants of this street are dead. if they were alive, i would call them to tell them that i loved her. why did i hide it like a crime? mariquilla, my wife, why didst thou die, without wounds, without sickness? what is the matter? what was it? where are you now? are you thinking? do you remember me? do you know, perhaps, that i am living? mariquilla, mariquilla, why do i still have that which they call life, and you not? where shall i find you, to hear you, to talk with you, and to come to you so that you may see me? everything is dark around me since you have closed your eyes. how long will this night of my soul endure, this solitude in which you have left me? the earth is insupportable to me. despair possesses my soul. in vain i call unto god that he fill it with himself. god does not answer me, and since you have gone, mariquilla, the universe is empty." as he said this, we heard a sound as of many people coming near. "it is the french. they have taken possession of the coso," said one. "friends, dig this grave quickly," said augustine, speaking to his two comrades, who were digging a great hole at the foot of the cypress. "if not, the french will come, and will take her from us." a man advanced along the calle de anton trillo, and, stopping beside the ruined wall, looked in. i saw him, and trembled. he was greatly changed, cadaverous, with sunken eyes and uncertain step. his glance was without brilliancy; his body was bent; and he seemed to have aged twenty years since last i saw him. his clothing was of rags stained with blood and mire. in another place, and at another time, he would have been taken for an octogenarian, come to beg alms. he came nearer to us, and said in a voice so feeble that we could scarcely hear,-- "augustine, my son, what are you doing here?" "señor, my father, i am burying mariquilla," replied augustine, without emotion. "why are you doing that? why such solicitude for a stranger? the body of your poor brother lies even now unburied among the patriots. why have you separated yourself from your mother and your sister?" "my sister is surrounded by kind and affectionate people to take care of her, while this one has nobody but myself." don josé de montoria, more gloomy and thoughtful than i had ever seen him, said nothing, and began to throw earth into the grave where they had placed the body of the beautiful girl. "throw in earth, my son, throw in earth quickly!" he cried, at last. "all is indeed over. they have permitted the french to enter the city, when it might still have been defended a couple of months more. these people have no soul. come with me, and we will talk about yourself." "señor," replied augustine, in firm tones, "the french are in the city. the gates are left free. it is now ten, and at twelve i leave saragossa to go to the monastery de veruela, where i shall stay until i die." the garrison, according to the stipulation, were to leave with military honors by the puerta del portillo. i was so ill, so weakened by a wound lately received, and by hunger and fatigue, my comrades almost had to carry me. i scarcely saw the french as with sadness rather than rejoicing they took possession of that which had been a city. it was a city of terrible ruins, a city of desolation, worthy to be mourned by jeremiah or sung by homer. in the muela, where i stopped to recover myself, don roque appeared. he was leaving the city, and feared being followed as a suspect. "gabriel," he said to me, "i never believed that the french mob would be so vile. i hoped that in view of the heroic defence of the city, they would be more human. some days ago we saw two bodies which the ebro was hurrying along on its current. they were two victims of those murderous soldiers that lannes commands. they were santiago sas, commander of those brave musketeers of the parish of san pablo, and father basilio boggiero, teacher, friend, and counsellor of palafox. they say that they went and called up father basilio at midnight, pretending that they wished to intrust an important commission to him; and then they took him on their treacherous bayonets to the bridge, where they pierced him through, and flung him into the river. and they did the same with sas." "and our protector and friend, don josé de montoria, what of him?" "thanks to the efforts of the chief-justice, he is still alive; but they want to shoot me, if you please. did you ever see such savages? palafox, it seems, is being taken a prisoner to france, although they promised to respect his person. in short, my boy, this is a nation i should not like to meet in heaven. and what do you say to that little barrack-sergeant of a marshal, señor lannes? he does not lack impudence to do what he has done. he has taken the treasures of the virgin del pilar, saying that they were not safe in the church. after he saw such a quantity of precious stones, diamonds, emeralds, and rubies, it seems that they got into his eyes, so that he held on to them. in order to hide his plundering, he pretends that the junta has given them to him. of a truth, i am sorry not to be young like yourself, so as to fight against such a highway robber. and so montoria said also, when i took my leave of him. poor don josé, how sad it is! i give him but few years of life. the death of his elder son, and the resolution of augustine to become a priest, make him very downcast and extremely melancholy." don roque had stopped to keep me company for a little time. and now we separated. after i recovered, i continued in the campaign of , taking part in other battles, becoming acquainted with new people, and establishing new friendships, or renewing the old. later, i shall relate some things about that year, as andresillo marijuan told them to me, when i chanced upon him in castile, as i was returning from talavera and he from gerona. the end new fiction. _the sword of justice._ by sheppard stevens. author of "i am the king." mo. cloth, extra. $ . . this stirring romance deals with the events described by parkman in the first portion of "pioneers of france in the new world," beginning with the killing of the huguenots at fort caroline, florida, and ending with its avenging by dominique de gourgues. the author follows history with absolute accuracy, and has given a valuable and most interesting contribution to the list of romances dealing with the early history of the american continent. _the count's snuff-box,_ a romance of washington and buzzard's bay during the war of . by george r. r. rivers, author of "the governor's garden," "captain shays, a populist of ," etc. illustrated by clyde o. de land. mo. cloth, gilt top. $ . . a well-conceived and well-told story, from which the reader will get an excellent idea of society and manners in the nation's capital nearly a century ago.--_boston transcript._ _invisible links._ by selma lagerlÖf. author of "gösta berling," "the miracles of antichrist," etc. translated from the swedish by pauline bancroft flach. crown vo. cloth, extra, gilt top. $ . . a new volume of remarkable stories by the young swedish writer whose other works have been so favorably received both in america and in england. it includes the following: the spirit of fasting and petter nord; the legend of the bird's nest; the king's grave; the outlaws; reor's saga; valdemar atterdag levies a contribution on visby; mamsell fredrika; the romance of a fisherwife; mother's portrait; a fallen king; a christmas guest; uncle reuben; downy; among the climbing roses. _i am the king._ being the account of some happenings in the life of godfrey de bersac, crusader knight. by sheppard stevens. mo. cloth, extra. $ . . a fresh and invigorating piece of reading.--_nashville american._ characterized by those graceful touches which belong to true and pure romanticism.--_boston herald._ it has the straightforwardness of the old-time story-teller.--_st. louis globe-democrat._ _the kinship of souls._ a narrative. by reuen thomas. mo. cloth, extra. $ . . a delightful story of travel, mingled with interesting discussions on theological and philosophical questions, as well as pertinent observations on other familiar topics.... the work is one of more than ordinary interest.--_green bag, boston._ altogether one of the most satisfactory, most edifying books that has come to our table in many a month.--_buffalo commercial._ _the bronze buddha._ by cora linn daniels. author of "sardia," etc. mo. decorated cloth. $ . . "the bronze buddha" is an oriental and mystical tale, the element of mystery being a strong quality of the book. notwithstanding the character of the story, its period is the present time, and the events occur in new york. _in vain._ by henryk sienkiewicz. translated from the polish by jeremiah curtin. mo. cloth, extra. $ . . a love story of modern poland, by the author of "quo vadis," not before translated. the scene is laid at kieff, and university life there is described. _the man without a country._ a new edition of edward everett hale's famous story, with an introduction giving an account of the circumstances and incidents of its publication, and a new preface by the author, written in the year of the war with spain. mo. cloth. cents. little, brown, and company, publishers, washington street, boston. ================================== transcriber's notes ------------------- spelling and hyphenation have been retained as in the original publication, except as follows: page vi, 'manuela sanchez appears as a minor character' replaced by 'manuela sancho appears as a minor character' page , 'the place bordered on the muella road' replaced by 'the place bordered on the muela road' page , 'such as don mariano, cereso the priest of sas' replaced by 'such as don mariano cereso the priest of sas' page , 'thou my patron, saint domenguito del val' replaced by 'thou my patron, saint dominguito del val' page , 'details of those struggles in the calle de la pabostre' replaced by 'details of those struggles in the calle de pabostre' page , 'not one frenchman will be left alive.' replaced by 'not one frenchman will be left alive."' page 'one of them, the one in the calle de la sombre' replaced by 'one of them, the one in the calle de la sombra' page , 'don marquis simono, the distinguished' replaced by 'don marcos simono, the distinguished' page , '"one must not speak ill of one's neighbor," said don jose."' replaced by '"one must not speak ill of one's neighbor," said don josé.' page , 'and from the the same person whom' replaced by 'and from the same person whom' page , 'but her national permanancy is and ever will' replaced by 'but her national permanency is and ever will' page , 'i continued in the compaign of ' replaced by 'i continued in the campaign of ' jerónimo/jeronimo ("jerónimo" was regularised to "jeronimo" since the former was used times versus the later times)