The next evening the old woman made her appearance without raising any difficulty as on the previous day, and took her seat before the pacha, and thus continued:—
As I stated to your highness last evening when I broke off my narrative, I was in the highest favour with the sultan, who made me his confidant. He had often mentioned to me the distinguished services of a young seraskier, whom he had lately appointed capitar pacha, to combat in the north against a barbarous nation called Sclavonians, or Russians. My curiosity was raised to see this rustam of a warrior, for his exploits and unvaried success were constantly the theme of the sultan’s encomiums. A Georgian slave who had been the favourite previous to my arrival, and who had never forgiven my supplanting her, had been sent to him by the sultan as a compliment; and this rare distinction had been conferred upon him on the day when I requested leave to remain behind the screen in the hall of the divan, that I might behold this celebrated and distinguished person. He was indeed a splendid figure, and his face was equally perfect. He formed, in outward appearance, all that I could imagine of a hero. As I looked at him from behind the screen, he turned his head from me, and I beheld to my surprise the red stain on his neck, which told me at once that I had found my long-lost brother. Delighted at the rencontre, I retired as soon as the audience was over, and the sultan came to my apartment. I told him the discovery which I had made. The sultan appeared pleased at the information; and the next day sending for my brother he asked him a few questions relative to his lineage and former life, which corroborated my story, and loading him with fresh honours he dismissed him. I was delighted that in finding my brother I had found one who was not unworthy of the sultan’s regard, and I considered it a most fortunate circumstance; but how blind are mortals! My brother was the cause of my disgrace and eternal separation from the sultan. I mentioned to your highness that the Georgian slave who had preceded me in the sultan’s favour had been sent as a present to my brother. This woman, although she had always appeared fond of me, was in fact my most bitter enemy. She was very beautiful and clever, and soon obtained the most unlimited influence over my brother. Yet she loved him not; she had but one feeling to gratify, which was revenge on me. My brother had so often led the troops to victory, that he had acquired an unbounded sway over them. Stimulated by their suggestions and his own ambition, which like mine was boundless, he was at last induced to plot against his master, with the intention of dethroning him and reigning in his stead. To his new wife, the Georgian, he had entrusted his plans, and she resolved to regain the favour of the sultan and accomplish my ruin by making me a party, and then communicating to him the treason which was in agitation. She proposed to my brother that he should inform me of his intentions, alleging, that in all probability I would assist him, as I cared little for the sultan; and at all events if I did not join, my interest might save him from his wrath. For some time he refused to accede to her suggestions, but as she pointed out that if the plot were discovered, I, as his sister, would certainly share his fate, and that she well knew that I had never forgiven the punishment of the bastinado which I had received, and only waited for an opportunity to revenge myself, he at last consented to make me a party to his intentions. My brother had been allowed to visit me, and he took it opportunity of stating to me his schemes. I started from him with horror, pointed out to him his ingratitude and folly, and intreated him to abandon his purpose. Convinced that I was firmly attached to the sultan, he appeared to acquiesce in the justice of my remarks, confessed that he was wrong, and promised me faithfully to think no more of his treacherous designs. I believed him to be sincere, and I shed tears of joy as I thanked him for having yielded to my intreaties. We separated; and in a short time I thought no more of the subject.
But he had no idea of abandoning his purpose; in fact, he was already too deeply involved to be able to do so. His arrangements went on rapidly; and when all was ripe the Georgian gave information to the sultan, denouncing me as a party as well as my brother.
One morning as I was sitting in my apartment, arranging on a tray a present for my lord and master, I was surprised by the abrupt entrance of the kislar aga, accompanied by guards, who without explanation seized me, and led me into the presence-chamber, where the sultan and all the officers of state were assembled. It immediately rushed into my mind that my brother had deceived me. Pale with anxiety, but at the same time with a feeling of delight that the plot had been discovered, I entered the divan, where I beheld my brother in the custody of the palace guard. He had been seized in the divan, as his popularity was so great that a few minutes’ notice would have enabled him not only to escape, but to have put his treasonable plans into execution; but he bore himself with such a haughty air, with his arms folded across his breast, that I thought he might be innocent; and that he had, as he promised me, abandoned all thoughts of rebellion.
I turned towards the sultan, who fixed his eyes upon me; his brows were knit with anger, and he commenced, “Zara, your brother is accused of treason, which he denies. You, also, are charged with being privy to his designs. Answer me, do you know any thing of these plots?”
I did not know how to answer this question, and I would not tell a lie. I did know something about his intentions; but as he had denied the charge, it was not to be expected that he should be condemned by the mouth of his only sister. Perhaps he had, as he had promised me, abandoned his ideas;—perhaps it could not be proved against him. My answer would have been the signal for his death. I could not give the answer required; and I replied, “If my brother be found guilty of rebelling against his sovereign, let him suffer. I, my lord, have never plotted or rebelled against you.”
“Answer my question, Zara. Do you know any thing about this plot? Yes or no. Say no, and I shall believe you.”
“Your slave has never plotted against her lord,” replied I. “Further I cannot answer your question.”
“Then it is true;—and Zara—even Zara is false!” cried the sultan, clasping his hands in agony. “O! where can a person in my situation find one who is faithful and true, when Zara, even Zara is false?”