Part 5 (2/2)
The old man professes, at least he teaches, your religion; but I know not to what sect he belongs. Indeed, I think he belongs to none. This, however, am I sure of, that he holds equally by our Scriptures and your Testament as being the whole Word of G.o.d.”
The three captives listened to this narration with sinking hearts, for it opened up a glimpse of the terrible and hopeless future that lay before themselves, so that for some time they sat gazing in silence at their visitor, and at the miserable beings who were devouring the last crumbs of their black bread around them.
”I came to see you,” continued Bacri, ”partly to a.s.sure you of the comparative safety of the girls who interested us all so much on board the vessel of Sidi Ha.s.san, and partly to say that I will do what lies in my power to alleviate your sad condition. With Lucien's education and knowledge of languages, it may be possible to get him into the immediate service of the Dey, in which case he will be able to aid his father and brother.”
”Have you, then, much influence with the Dey?” asked Francisco.
”None,” replied the Jew, with a sad smile. ”I have already told you that the pirates detest us; that we are tolerated only because of our money-making powers, and the ease with which they can bleed us when they want gold. But I have some influence with others in the city who have power to move the Dey. There is one thing, however,” here the Jew glanced pointedly at Mariano, ”in regard to which I would give you most earnest counsel, namely, that you should at once dismiss all idea of rebellion. It will be utterly unavailing. You may, like the caged lion, if you will, dash yourselves to death against your prison bars, but you cannot break them. Countless thousands of bold and brave spirits have attempted this plan, with no good result, in time past.
The Turks are well acquainted with and quite prepared for it. Your only chance of mitigating the woes of your condition lies in submission.”
”It were better and n.o.bler to die than to submit,” said Mariano gloomily.
”It were better and n.o.bler to bow to the will of the Almighty than to commit suicide,” retorted Bacri, somewhat sternly. ”It is selfishness and pride which induces us to seek deliverance from sorrow and suffering in death. There are men who have thought that truest n.o.bility lay in choosing a life in the midst of suffering and woe for the purpose of alleviating it, and who have acted on their opinion. This lesson, however, is not so frequently learnt by us through precept as in the school of sorrow.”
Mariano felt abashed, yet at the same time rather nettled.
”Truly, then,” he said, with a glance at his blood-stained s.h.i.+rt, ”it seems to me that I have at all events begun my lesson in the right school. However, I believe thou art right, Bacri, and I bear thee no ill-will for the rap thou didst bestow on my skull, which, luckily, is a thick one, else thy ponderous fist had split it from the cranium to the chin.”
”We had misjudged you, Bacri,” said Francisco, extending his hand, as the Jew rose to depart.
”We will lay your advice to heart; and we thank you, meanwhile, for coming to see us in this foul den, which I dislike less because of moisture and dirt--these being familiar to me--than because of the lively reptiles which hold their nightly revels in it.”
There was mingled humour and bitterness in Francisco's tone, as he uttered this sentence, which he concluded with a heavy sigh.
Immediately after, the rusty bolts of their prison-door grated harshly on their ears, and they listened sadly to the retreating footsteps of one whom they now esteemed their only friend, as they died away in the distance.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
SOME NEW CHARACTERS WALK, GLIDE, AND FURIOUSLY GALLOP INTO THE TALE, AND OTHERWISE INTRODUCE THEMSELVES TO NOTICE.
In the interior court of a beautiful Moorish villa not far from the city, sat Mrs Langley, wife of Colonel Langley, British consul at the ”Court” of Algiers.
The lady of whom we write was unusually romantic, for her romance consisted of a deep undercurrent of powerful but quiet enthusiasm, with a pretty strong surface-flow of common-sense. Her husband was a man of n.o.ble mind and commanding presence--a magnificent representative John Bull, with the polish of a courtier and the principles of a Christian; one who had been wisely chosen to fill a very disagreeable post, full of responsibility and danger.
On a stool at the feet of Mrs Langley sat a sunny second edition of herself, about eight years of age, named Agnes. In the cradle which Agnes had formerly occupied reposed a remarkably plump and dimpled representative of the Colonel. When respectfully addressed he was called Jim, but he was more familiarly known as Baby.
A small negress from beyond the Zahara, and blacker than any coal, rocked Jim violently. For this--not the rocking, but the violence--she had been unavailingly rebuked by Mrs Langley, until that lady's heart had nearly lost all hope.
”There--you have done it again, Zubby,” said Mrs Langley, referring to a push that well-nigh rolled Master Jim, (as a sea-captain once said), out at the starboard side of the cradle.
Zubby confessed her guilt, by looking abashed--and what a solemn look an abashed one is in a negress with very large eyes!--as well as by rocking more gently.
Agnes vented a sudden little laugh at the expression of Zubby's face; and, the door opening at that moment, Colonel Langley entered the court, and sat down beside his wife under the giant leaves of a small banana-tree, whose life was drawn from a boxful of earth about three feet square.
”My dear,” said the Colonel, ”I have two rather amusing things to lay before you this evening. One is a gift from the Dey, the other is a letter. Which will you have first?”
”The gift, of course,” replied the lady.
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