“I am your servant and dog, Effendi,” said the old Tartar.
Azya clapped his hands, whereupon a Tartar orderly came in, and, hearing the command, brought refreshments after a time,—gorailka, dried meat, bread, sweetmeats, and some handfuls of dried water-melon seeds, which, with sunflower seeds, are a tidbit greatly relished by Tartars.
“You are a friend, not a servant,” said Azya, when the orderly retired. “Be well, for you bring good news; sit and eat.”
Halim began to eat, and until he had finished, they said nothing; but he refreshed himself quickly, and began to glance at Azya, waiting till he should speak.
“They know here now who I am,” said Azya, at length.
“And what, Effendi?”
“Nothing. They respect me still more. When it came to work, I had to tell them anyhow. But I delayed, for I was waiting for news from the horde, and I wished the hetman to know first; but Novoveski came, and he recognized me.”
“The young one?” asked Halim, with fear.
“The old, not the young one. Allah has sent them all to me here, for the maiden is here. The Evil Spirit must have entered them. Only let me become hetman, I will play with them. They are giving me the maiden; very well, slaves are needed in the harem.”
“Is the old man giving her?”