With trembling voice—but not from fear—Conrad replied: “We have hitherto considered you an honorable enemy. We do not complain because you securely imprison us, but to treat us as you have threatened to do lowers you to the level of the savage beast.”
The Sultan somewhat regained his composure, and left the room speechless from amazement at their boldness.
The brothers again embraced, unmoved by his horrible threat, and determined with God’s help to remain steadfast and not to deviate a finger’s breadth from the path of right and duty.
Their conversation was now disturbed by a swarthy visaged person looking in at the door and grimacing. He was a gigantic Turk, who signified by gesture rather than by speech that they were to follow him. They were a little alarmed at first, but a glance at each other and a mutual grasp of the hand reassured them, and they courageously followed him. Their apprehensions, however, were not realized. They were simply changing the place of their confinement. A low, dark room with small iron-grated windows and bare walls, and destitute of the customary furniture it was, where they were now to spend their time. The slave left some wretched food, and so slight an allowance of it that it barely sufficed to relieve the pangs of hunger. They realized by his conduct that he was their new keeper.
The change in their situation made little impression upon them. The slave had hardly left the room before they fell upon their knees, thanked God that so far He had kept them from yielding, and fervently prayed that He would continue to aid them and save them from any severer trials.
Several days passed without affording them a sight of their enemies. The miserable food did not allay the cravings of hunger. The moisture trickling down the walls, the damp, sticky atmosphere, and the lack of refreshing rest nearly made them ill. The slave’s face manifested not a sign of pity. On the contrary, the brothers thought they noticed an expression of malicious satisfaction whenever their eyes met his; but they made no complaint.
One day, to their great astonishment, their keeper, who seemed to have forgotten them, entered the room bringing dainty food instead of the usual prison fare. A hot rice soup steamed from a clean dish, regaling the senses and tempting the appetite. The slave’s conduct was also different. A look of sympathy had taken the place of his scornful smile. He invited them to partake of the food, and placed it before them himself, in the most friendly manner, for they were afraid to take it, suspecting that it was only offered to them in malicious mockery. But when he went out and returned with a pair of roasted fowls, they no longer distrusted him or hesitated to accept his repeated invitations.
The slave waited upon the table with as much ceremony as if he were serving distinguished company, now helping one, then the other, and urging both to take more. They ate with gratitude to God for making such a change in their master’s heart, but made no conversation with the servant, though he evidently was expecting them to do so. Indeed, the meal closed without a word from them, though the Turk coughed and hemmed and made every sort of hint to them, hoping they would speak. At last he withdrew, but speedily returned with a tankard. “Here is something to warm Christian hearts,” he said with a smile, as if confident they would at last break their silence.
“Wine?” said Conrad. “I thought the Turks did not drink wine. What does the Sultan mean?”
Though Conrad was only speaking to his brother, the servant answered: “The Sultan? This wine is not from him. It is from Rustan, your servant, young gentlemen.”