“But me no buts, knave,” roared the Pasha. “Darest thou say the boy is deformed,—blind,—deaf,—lame? Speak, or by the beard of the Prophet”—
“Mercy, O gracious lord! I meant nothing,” cried the sage, falling on his knees, “only this—the child”—
“Well, go on, and quickly. The child”—
“Is a girl, O great and mighty”—
But Muley Mustapha had leaped to his feet, spurning the old man from his way, and was shouting to his chief eunuch:—
“Ho, there, slave! Send me straightway the Vizier and the Soothsayer and—hark ye, slave, send me the Headsman. By Allah! there is work here for all three.”
The Pasha had a rich command of language, and he made free use of it while awaiting the summoned functionaries. Soon they were ushered into his presence, the swart Nubian, Al Choppah, bringing up the rear of the procession. The Soothsayer prostrated himself at the feet of the Pasha, who thus addressed him:—
Al Choppah, the Headsman
“O triple-tongued liar and silverhaired son of Gehenna, what hast thou to say for thyself? Dost remember that but six months ago thou didst issue a prophecy, standing before us as proud and confident as Bhilibidam, the haughty prince of Eblis, and didst say that I was to be the father of a son, and didst warrant the prediction with thy head? What should be done, O Shacabac, with such a defaulter on his sacred pledge?”