"What progress have you made in your search?"

The eunuchs threw themselves on the floor, profound humiliation depicted on their faces.

"Mighty and gracious master! we have been tardy slaves, and humbly acknowledge our fault; we will do all we can to redeem it, and we hope soon to bring better news. Yes, we hope, gracious master, that we shall soon be able to announce what our master desires to know."

"Then you have a trace?" said the pacha, his countenance lighting up with joy.

"Yes, master, as yet only a trace; but we hope soon to have certainty."

"Good, I will inquire no further. But of one thing I must remind you: three days have already passed, within the next four days you will have brought me the runaway slave or your heads fall."

"O gracious master, we hope to do so much sooner!"

"It is well," said the pacha, with a slight inclination of his haughty head. "And now listen further: spread the report of my departure tomorrow morning; say that Cousrouf Pacha will perhaps depart this evening, with his harem and his servants, to return no more."

"It shall be as our gracious master commands," said the two eunuchs.

"You know Mohammed Ali, the new boulouk bashi?"

"Yes, excellency, we know him."

"Let no one dare do him a bodily injury. Look down humbly when you pass him, and, if he insults you with word or look, step nevertheless respectfully aside. Let none of you dare to touch him to injure a hair of his head, or to seek his life with poison, the dagger, or any other weapon. Let the life of Mohammed Ali, the new boulouk bashi, be sacred to you all. Have you heard?"

"We have heard, mighty master."

With an impatient gesture he dismissed them, and he continued to walk to and fro in his room long after they had gone out. His brow is dark, evil thoughts fill his breast.

"I have sworn the triple oath, and I must keep it. I no longer threaten him personally. Woe to him if my suspicion proves true, and Masa has found an asylum and protection with him! I will keep my word! No hair of Mohammed's head shall be injured, but I will punish him through her; for truly, if he loves her, such punishment will be harder than any thing I could do to him personally. The eunuchs say they are on her track, and it must be so, or they would not dare to say it. And these bloodhounds, being once on the track, are sure to catch their prey!"

The eunuchs had faithfully obeyed their master's command, and hardly had an hour elapsed when all Praousta knew that Cousrouf Pacha was on the point of taking his departure from the peninsula, to return no more.

They were also informed that a ship had come to convey him back to Stamboul, where the grand-sultan was to recompense him for his long exile with power, magnificence, and honors. The matter was much discussed, and they whisperingly confessed to each other that they would be well pleased to know that the proud man, who was the cause of so much unhappiness, had taken his departure.

Was it not on his account that the double tax had been imposed on the people? Had not the extra expenditure been incurred on his account? True, the tschorbadji had attempted to deny this, but the additional expense was nevertheless clearly owing to the pacha's presence in Cavalla. Moreover, the sad story of the unhappy Masa, who had chosen to die rather than become a slave, was now known.

Yes, she had taken her own life--of that, no one now entertained a doubt. She had assuredly thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea. Some boys, who were engaged at night in setting out nets, had seen a white figure alone on the Ear of Bucephalus.

That white figure was certainly Masa. She had thrown herself into the sea in order that she, the free daughter of the sheik, might not be compelled to become a slave and enter the harem of the stranger.

They had sought for the body of the poor girl on the shore and among the cliffs. The sea had, however, been stormy throughout the entire day, and the surging waves must have borne her away into the depths, where she had become a welcome prey to the greedy shark. Nowhere a trace of her; she is surely dead.

The complaints and lamentations of the sheik are also silenced--he reclines motionless on his cushions. Grief and anxiety have made him helpless, and chained him to his couch. He suffers in silence, and his friends hope that death will soon release him from his misery.

And this overbearing stranger, Cousrouf Pacha, is to blame for all this!

He gave himself the appearance of graciously making the fishermen a present of the money to pay the double tax. But he had deceived them. Oh, had they but known that Masa had sold herself for this money, they never would have accepted it! They therefore hate this haughty stranger, and are glad that he is about to leave their coast forever.

The ship still lies quietly at anchor, her streamers flutter gayly in the air, her sides are hung with bright-colored carpets, and garlands of flowers are entwined with her rigging. The ship presents a brilliant spectacle, and it may well be that the pacha is to embark this very evening. But no! Night sinks down, and all remains dark on board the ship, which casts a huge shadow across the waves.

No, Cousrouf Pacha will certainly not embark this evening. The night is dark, and all is still in Praousta and on the sea-shore.

And who would care to be up and abroad at this late hour! Whoever has a hut and a bed, remains at home and does not go out into the night. No, no one is abroad.

But is not that the sound of footsteps that now breaks in upon the stillness of the night?

A dark shadow is gliding along among the cliffs on the shore. Who can say that it is a human being! No star sheds its light on his path--the moon is obscured behind dark clouds. It is perhaps an eagle that has been cast down by the storm, and is now wearily winging its flight across the cliffs. Who can say that it is a man that is gliding among the cliffs? No one sees him; no one can betray him. The shadow now stands still for a moment, and for a single moment the moon breaks forth from behind the dark clouds. It sees the figure, it sees the man who stands there on a rock, his large, luminous eyes gazing anxiously, suspiciously about him, as though he feared betrayal.

The kindly moon has permitted him to take a look at the landscape round about him, and to assure him there is no one in the vicinity to betray him. All is at rest, he alone is awake and abroad. The moon has done enough; it glides behind a dark cloud and conceals itself again.

The waves murmur at the feet of him who has been standing there listening, and he now glides down from the cliff to the opening in the rock. He creeps in at this opening, and on through the narrow passage to the cave, until he can stand upright. He now utters a cry, and his cry is answered in the distance. He stands still and leans against the wall of the cave, overwhelmed either with anxiety or happiness. It is with happiness, for he will find her: she has answered him.

CHAPTER XII

THE PARADISE UNDER THE EARTH.

They rest heart to heart for a moment, and then Mohammed sinks down on his knees, and kisses the hem of her dress and her little feet, and she bows down to him and whispers in his ear words which he hardly understands, and yet each of them resounds in his soul like heavenly music.

"O these little feet! They were not created to come in contact with the earth, and to be wounded by thorns. You should tread on flowers only, and flutter from rose to rose as the butterfly from flower to flower. Alas, and yet your home is now a dark cave! Masa, it tortures me to see you here, under the earth and in darkness."

"Is it then dark here?" asked she, in her sweet voice. "I thought we had the light of the stars here! Yes, look there, I am right; look there!" She raised her arm and pointed upward to the opening in the roof of the cave through which the heavens looked down. "See, Mohammed, there are the stars, there are the heavens. Let us seat ourselves on this beautiful spot."

"You are right, Masa. There is starlight in this cave, although clouds obscure the heavens. Yes, here in our paradise we are elevated above all earthly care; here is our heaven, and you are the revelation of Allah. O Masa, let me sink down before you in adoration, kiss the hem of your garment, and entreat your forgiveness!"

"My forgiveness?" said she, nestling her little head on his breast, as they sat side by side on the cushions brought here by Mohammed's care, and covered with Persian carpets. "My forgiveness, and for what?

"Because I thought ill of you, Masa; because, while I lay in anguish up yonder on the rock the other day, I accused you in my senseless anger, and cursed my love for you. I thought you were a woman like all other women, and yet you are beautiful and fair and pure, like a houri of paradise. I wished to tear you from my heart as we tear weeds from a flower-garden, and my heart was to be henceforth accessible only to ambition and glory; and now I know that all this is vain and empty. Mohammed no longer has aspirations after glory and renown; Mohammed no longer knows that wreaths of fame are twined and that laurels bloom without in the world; Mohammed only knows that this is paradise, and that heaven's fairest flower blooms here at his side. I feel your breath, my flower, I inhale fragrance from your lips, and see the starlight in your eyes, though none shines in upon us from the dark world without. I am with you, and you with me.

Oh, let me rest at your side, and forget the world, and may it forget us too!"

"I do not understand your words," murmured she. "You are wise and learned, and I am only a poor girl, who has no words to express her thoughts, and hardly thoughts for that which she feels. I do know, however, that I am in paradise, and Allah forbid that my feet should bear me out into the world again! Oh, I never wish to see it again, Mohammed. And beautiful it would be, it seems to me, to slumber here in sweet tranquillity, never to awake again."

"Oh, it were heavenly, my sweet dove," murmured he, pressing her to his heart, "to fall into a sweet slumber here, and to journey hence, heavenward, to awaken in paradise. I would we had nothing more to do with the world; yet, swear to me, Masa, that when the world holds us in its embrace again, you will love me eternally--say eternally!"

"What does eternally mean?" asked she, softly. "I do not know what eternally means. All life is a single day. At sunrise this morning I felt that I loved you, and now do you suppose that Masa is so forgetful a child that she cannot preserve what she feels in her heart for a single day until the sun sets in the evening?"

"Yes, Masa, you are right!" exclaimed Mohammed, in tones of enthusiasm. "Life is as a single day. When the sun sets, night comes, and we sink down and dream, and in our dream we are conscious only of the love of the blissful day. Yes, life is but a day, and may this day end blissfully for us as it began! It is dark around us, and I cannot see you. But look, Allah is kind; he sends us his light. The moon has broken forth from behind the clouds, and it shines into our grotto and illumines your fair face. The moon and the stars love you, Masa; yet they shall not tear you from me. No, Masa must remain with me, that my life may not end in darkness and misery, that I may be happy. O good moon, messenger of the prophet, with your brilliancy you light up the countenance of my houri.

Journey on in your course, good moon, and tell the houris and the angels above that one of their sisters has remained here in the paradise grotto, and that this houri is mine; mine--in the name of Heaven."

He pressed her to his heart and laid his head in her lap. Both were silent.

Suddenly a loud report resounded through the stillness of the night.

Mohammed released himself from her arms, and sprang in terror to his feet.

"That was the report of a pistol-shot. Alas! it awakens me from my dreams. All bliss is at an end, the earth is again here, and calls me from paradise."

"You will leave me, Mohammed!" cried she, rising from her cushion.

"Mohammed, you intend to leave me tonight?"