The fast of Rhamadan at length induced the Bey to return to Milianah; but his presence brought no alleviation to our sufferings. Our jailer made the fast a pretext for depriving us of our daily allowance of boiled barley, and giving us nothing but half a barley cake each. The weather continued bitterly cold, with continual snow and sleet; and our dungeon was so dark that we were unable even to catch the vermin that infested it. We at length grew quite desperate, and most of us felt convinced that the Sultan had sent us to die of cold and hunger in the prisons of Milianah, and that he had never intended to release or exchange us. Fleury, Bourgeois, Crescenso, M. Lanternier, and the German servant, lay on the cold bare earth sick of the fever, and their groans and delirious ravings sounded most horrible in the darkness of our dungeon.
One morning a canopy was raised in front of our prison: magnificent carpets were spread, upon which were laid cushions covered with gorgeous brocade; and before long the Bey came and seated himself upon them, in order to distribute the pay to his soldiers. Some slaves spread a large round skin of morocco leather at his feet, and emptied several bags of money upon it, after which the soldiers were called up by name, and each in succession received his pay.
Mahadin-el-Hadj-el-Schir-ben-Moubarek Bey of Milianah, is a man of about forty. He is taller than Abd-el-Kader; his face is long, his eyes small, his lips thick, and his beard grizzled. He wore a haick, and a bernouse of beautiful crimson and azure cloth, embroidered with silk and gold, and ornamented with gold tassels. A superb yataghan glittered at his side. His officers, who stood in a row on either side of him, were all dressed in red vests and trowsers and white bernouses.
When I perceived that the Bey did not cast a single glance upon our prison, and appeared to have forgotten our very existence, I came before him, with General Rapatel’s letters in my hand, and represented to him the misery we endured, and how opposed his cruel treatment of us was to Abd-el-Kader’s generous intentions. The Bey answered me with plenty of fine promises: he then departed, and we heard no more of him. At length a Hadjute came to announce that we were to start for the place at which the prisoners were to be exchanged, and in less than half an hour the list of names of those selected to leave Milianah that very day was brought to us. It included Madame Laurent, M. Lanternier, Crescenso, Francesco, Benedicto, and myself.
The weather was terrible; a thick snow was continually falling. M. Lanternier was so ill that he was unable even to stand, and must infallibly have dropped dead from his mule in a few hours. We therefore resolved to leave him, and to take M. Pic’s German servant instead, who, though exceedingly ill from the effects of his wound, was able to sit upon his mule. We started amid the groans and lamentations of our fellow-prisoners, and the frantic complaints of Lanternier.
A few days after our departure M. Lanternier sunk under his illness, and was buried outside the gates of Milianah.
We stopped before the palace of the Bey, who was sitting in the court. He called me to him, and desired me to press General Rapatel to hasten the exchange of the other prisoners at the rate of three Arabs for every Christian. “If,” said he, “these terms are complied with, I will leave your outposts alone for a time; if not, my Hadjutes and I will not suffer them to rest in peace a single day.”
Madame Laurent and Benedicto were waiting for us before the Bey’s palace: their condition had been very different from ours. They told us that the Bey had two charming daughters, whose kindness was equal to their beauty, and who had never ceased from paying them every sort of attention. At Madame Laurent’s request these amiable girls had frequently sent us provisions, but the slaves who were ordered to take them to us had eaten them themselves. We all mounted our mules except Crescenso, who was obliged to follow on foot, and we quitted the town amidst the jeers and yells of the populace, who shouted after us “There go the Christian dogs.”
At length we were on our way towards home: the day of our release drew near; but this moment to which we had looked forward with so much impatience failed to excite in us the joy we had expected to feel. Sickness and misery had so completely exhausted our strength and spirits, that we could think of nothing but the sufferings and fatigue of the present moment. We travelled the whole of the day over mountains covered with ilexes, gum trees, and cypresses; the roads were detestable, and it never ceased from snowing. We made no halt until evening, when we arrived at a tribe in the mountains to the west of the plain of the Metidja. The Commander of our escort, one of the officers of the Bey of Milianah, conducted us to a mud hovel. A large fire was lighted, at which we dried our clothes, which were completely wetted by the snow. The Arabs of the surrounding tribes crowded to look at us, and to torment us with blows and abuse. They forced little Benedicto to repeat the Mahomedan prayer to every new comer, and the poor child had to say it at least two hundred times that night: they then commanded us to do the same, and beat us violently when we refused.
The poor German, whose wound was gangrened, suffered most from the inhumanity of these people who kicked and struck him on his wound. We dared not remonstrate against the wanton cruelty of these Arabs, who would have been too glad of a pretext to kill us all on the spot. After torturing us for about four hours they left us, and some detestable kuskussu was brought for our supper. I asked for some butter and honey to dress the poor German’s wounds, but it was refused. We lay down and endeavoured to sleep, but found it impossible; and Francesco and I lay concerting plans of revenge upon the Arab prisoners at Marseilles, and lamenting the hard fate of the companions we had lost.