"Oh, Allah, Allah!" exclaimed Mr. Mole, who had slipped naturally into a habit of using Turkish interjections; "what a life it is to be a pasha. I used to think it was all glory and happiness, but now I find, to my grief, that—if this sort of thing goes on, I shall bolt."
It being now far advanced in the evening, the pasha, wearied out with the cares and excitements of the day, retired to rest in the Turkish fashion, half-dressed, and upon a kind of sofa.
His cork legs, of course, were carefully taken off first.
In this Jack and Harry assisted him.
Moley Pasha went to sleep and to dream of bowstrings, scimitars, and various painful forms of execution.
The next morning, however, he arose more hopeful, and fully resolved to show himself a vigorous and successful ruler.
In his sumptuous seat in the divan, or hall of audience, Mole began to feel like a monarch on his throne, and signed his decrees with all the triumphant flourish of a Napoleon.
It was in the height of this power and glory that there arose a sudden consternation in court.
Murmurs arose, shouts, mingled with the tramp of many steeds, were heard outside.
"What's the matter?" asked the pasha. "Who dares to make a disturbance and disturb the pasha? Officer, command silence."