At Buda, while Ha.s.san Pasha was fighting with the army of the German Emperor, Yffim Beg was preparing the triumphal arches through which the victors were to pa.s.s on their return, adorning them with green branches and precious carpets, and leaving room for the standards to be captured from the Germans and Hungarians. The bridge was also repaired and strengthened to support the weight of the heavy gun-carriages and cannon which Montecuculi was to have abandoned, and at the same time a large s.p.a.ce on the Rakas was railed in where all the slaves of all the nations, including women and children, were to be impounded.

And after all these amiable preparations the terrible message reached the worthy Yffim Beg from Ha.s.san Pasha that he was to place all his movable chattels, gold and silver, on a fugitive footing, barricade the fortress, cut away the bridge so that the enemy might not be able to cross it, and follow him with the whole harem, beyond the Raab, for who could tell whether they would ever see the fortress of Buda again.

Yffim Beg was not particularly pleased with this message, but without taking long to think about it, he put the damsels of the harem into carriages, sent them off along the covered way adjoining the water-gate, in order to make as little disturbance as possible, and, as soon as they were on the other side of the bridge, ordered it to be destroyed and the garrison of the fortress to defend themselves as best they could.

He reached the Turkish army to find the opposing hosts drawn up against each other on different sides of the river, across which they bombarded each other from time to time, without doing much damage.

The Pasha's pavilion was well in the rear, out of cannon-shot; he was delighted when he saw Yffim Beg, and could not take his fill of kissing Azrael, who was lovelier and more gracious than ever.

"Remain here," he said to his favourites, embracing the pair of them. "I must retire now to the interior of my pavilion to pray for an hour or so with the dervishes, for a great and grievous duty will devolve upon me in an hour's time--two great Turkish n.o.bles, Kucsuk Pasha and his son, are to be condemned to death."

Azrael started as violently as if a serpent had crept into her bosom.

"How have they offended?" she asked, scarce able to conceal her agitation.

"Against the precepts of the Prophet they engaged in battle on a day of ill-omen; they have cast dirt on the victorious half-moon, and must wash off the stain with their blood."

Ha.s.san withdrew; Azrael remained alone in the tent with the Beg.

"I saw thee shudder," said Yffim, fixing his sharp eyes on the face of Azrael.

"Death chooses the thirteenth; he leaped past me at this very moment."

"And on whom has the fatal thirteen fallen?"

"On someone who stands beside me or behind me."

"Behind thee in the tent outside is Feriz Beg."

"But thou art beside me."

"I am too young to die yet."

"And is not he also?"

"He of whom Ha.s.san saith: 'He hath sinned!' becomes old and withered on the spot."

"And hast thou done nothing for which thou shouldst die?"

"My beard will grow white because of my loyalty; life is long in the shadow of Ha.s.san."

"But how long will Ha.s.san have a shadow?"

"Till his night cometh--but that is still far off."

"Hast thou not heard of the case of Ajas Pasha, Yffim?--of Ajas, who was the mightiest of all the Pashas?"

"He was the Sultan's son-in-law."

"The Grand Seignior gave him his own daughter to wife, and loaded him with every favour. One day Ajas lost a battle against the Zrinyis. It was not a great defeat, but the Sultan was wrath and beheaded Ajas Pasha."

"H'm! I recollect, it was a sad story."

"And dost thou remember the story of the faithful Hia.s.sar? Ajas charged him to bring to him before his death his favourite wife, not his whole harem which thou hast brought to Ha.s.san Pasha, but only his favourite wife, that he might take leave of her; and dost thou know that for doing this thing the Sultan had Hia.s.sar roasted to death in a copper ox? For a disgraced favourite possesses nothing--all he had is the Sultan's, his treasures, his wives and his children; and whoever lays his hand upon them is robbing the Sultan. Who knows, Yffim Beg, but what at this moment I may not be the Sultan's slave-girl? and from slave-girl to favourite is but a step, and thou knowest it would be but a short step for me."

"What accursed things thou art saying."

"The wife of Ajas Beg was the Sultan's favourite at the time when Hia.s.sar was burnt, and a word from her would have saved him. But she said it not, because she was wrath with him; methinks the woman loved him once, and the slave despised her love. Give me my mandoline, Yffim, I would sing a song."

The odalisk lay back upon the bed, while Yffim anxiously paced to and fro like a hyena fallen into a snare. The story just related had a striking resemblance to his own, and it would not take very much to give it a similar termination.

Suddenly he stood before the damsel, who nonchalantly strummed the strings of her instrument.

"What dost thou want?"

"Ask not what thou knowest."

"Thou wouldst save Feriz?"

"I will save him."

"I swear by Allah it is not to be done. Die he must, if only to tame thee; for if he remain alive thou wilt destroy the lot of us sooner or later."

Azrael collapsed at the feet of the Beg. Sobbing, she embraced his knees.

"Oh, be merciful! Say but a word for him to the general. I love the youth as thou canst see and dost very well know. Do not let him perish!"

Like all little souls, Yffim Beg became all the bolder at these supplicating words, and seizing Azrael by the arms, roughly pulled her to her feet, and whispered in her ear with malicious joy:

"I'll make thee a present of his head."

At these words the woman raised her head, her eyes like those of a furious she-wolf seemed to glow with green fire, her tresses curled like serpents round her bosom. She said not a word, but her tightly clenched teeth kept back a whole h.e.l.l of dumb fury.

At that moment the Vizier returned.

Azrael at once put on a smile. Ha.s.san could not see what was seething in her heart.

Yffim approached the Pasha confidentially.

"Does the Sultan know of thy disaster?"

"He has heard it since."

"It would be as well to send me with gifts to the Porte."

"Ask not that honour for thyself, Yffim; learn, rather, that whomsoever I send to Stambul now is as good as sent to Paradise. The Sultan's wrath is kindled, and he can only quench it with blood."