Part 12 (2/2)
observed the consul, with a smile, after commenting on the gift in detail.
”That,” replied Achmet, ”would have little power to please if the jewels were not numerous and costly. But happily our treasury can afford it, although we have not been very successful in war of late.”
He looked at the consul with a sly smile as he spoke, but the latter deemed it wise to be lost in admiration of some of the jewels in question.
After examining the ”present,” the consul retired, and Achmet went to his private apartments to enjoy a cup of coffee and a pipe.
The room in which he sat was similar to that already described as being the reception-room of the bridal party, only the decorations were if possible more elaborate and sumptuous. Here, seated on rich cus.h.i.+ons, with, not his most beautiful, but his wisest wife beside him, Achmet-- once a petty officer of janissaries--gave himself up to the enjoyment of the hour. Christian slaves--once the happy b.u.t.terflies of European and other lands--attended on him, filled his pipe, brought him hot coffee, and watched his every movement. They were richly dressed, more richly and gaily, perchance, than they had ever been in the days of freedom, when they had been wont to chat and laugh with careless hilarity. But they were mute enough now. A few of them had tasted the bastinado and been tamed; most of them had been wise enough to tame themselves. If Shakespeare had been a Turk he would probably have written a very different version of the Taming of the Shrew!
When coffee was finished, the Dey ordered the attendants to withdraw, and then settling himself comfortably on the cus.h.i.+ons, and puffing two white streams of smoke slowly through his nose, in order to gather the fullest enjoyment therefrom, he thus addressed himself to his better-proportion--we had almost said ”half,” but forgot for the moment that there were several Sultanas!
”Ashweesha, thou art a wise woman. I might almost style thee my guardian angel, for not only hast thou often guided me on the right road, but sometimes thou hast prevented me from straying into the wrong.”
Ashweesha, who was a sweet and pa.s.sably good-looking woman of about thirty, raised her large dark eyes to the face of Achmet with a look of grat.i.tude, but did not reply. Indeed, her husband did not seem to expect an answer, for he continued to smoke for some time in silence, with his eyes fixed abstractedly on a tame gazelle--the kitten of the harem--which tried to attract his attention.
”Thou art sad, or anxious, to-night,” said Ashweesha, at length breaking silence.
”Both sad and anxious,” replied the Dey slowly. ”My position is indeed one of power, but not of comfort or safety.”
A shade rested for a moment like a flitting cloud on the face of Ashweesha. Gladly would she have exchanged her high estate, with all its costly and gorgeous array, for a life of humble toil accompanied with peace and security--for she was of gentle nature--but this was denied her.
”Listen,” said the Dey, laying aside his pipe and talking earnestly; ”it may well chance, as it has happened before, that thy counsel may lighten my care. I am sad because two of my chief officers are snakes in the gra.s.s. They are venomous too, and their bite will prove deadly if it be not avoided. Canst thou guess their names, Ashweesha?”
”Sidi Omar and Sidi Ha.s.san,” said Ashweesha.
Achmet looked surprised.
”Thou art partly right, though I did not expect thy swift reply. Is it a guess, or hast thou obtained information?”
”I have heard of it from one who is our friend.”
”Indeed. Well, thou art right as to Omar, and it is that which makes me sad. Thou art right also in regard to Sidi Ha.s.san, but I care little for him. He is but a tool in the hands of one whose power is great-- Hamet, our Aga of cavalry. Omar I had hoped better things of; but fear him not. The Aga, however, is a dangerous foe, and unscrupulous. I do not clearly see my way to guard against his wiles. My chief safeguard is that he and Omar are bitter enemies. I know not what to do.”
”The bow-string,” suggested Ashweesha.
The reader must not think this suggestion inconsistent with the character of one whom we have described as gentle and sweet. The Sultana had been trained in a peculiar school, and was as much accustomed to hear of disagreeable and troublesome people being strangled as Europeans are to the drowning of inconvenient kittens.
The Dey laughed.
”Alas! my gentle one,” he said, ”all powerful and despotic though I be, there are a few officers around me whom I dare not get rid of in this way--at least not just now. But it amuses me to hear thee recommend such strong measures, thou who art always on the side of mercy.”
”Truly,” said Ashweesha, with a flash in her dark eyes that proved the presence of other elements besides sweetness in her disposition, ”my leanings are always towards mercy, save when you have to deal with those who possess no mercy. If you do not apply the bow-string to Hamet in good time, rest a.s.sured that he will apply it to you.”
The Dey became more serious at this, yet still smiled as he gazed in the flushed countenance of his spouse and adviser.
”Thou art right, Ashweesha,” said he, in a meditative tone, ”and it is for the purpose of finding out, if possible, when it is the right time to strike that I now take counsel with thee. What wouldst thou advise?”
”Sidi Ha.s.san, you say, has been sent to be the British consul's janissary?”
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