But the one hand of old Mustapha was upon the eunuch's throat, and his one eye flashed like a discharging culverin, as he cried, "Had I another hand to do it with, I would cut yours, you white-faced imbecile! Don't you know that the boy belongs to the Janizaries? and woe to him who is not a Janizary that lays a hand on him!"
"The prince's honor must be avenged," wheezed out the eunuch between the finger grips of the old soldier. "I care not for the Janizary, though you were the Aga[32] himself, instead of a mutilated slave."
The eunuch had drawn his dagger, and was working his hand into a position whence he could strike, when old Selim's hand grasped his.
"None of that treachery, or we will let out of your leprous skin what manhood is left in you, you blotch on your race! Touch one hair of Black Khalil's[33] children and you die like the dog you are. Let him go, Mustapha! His coward throat is no place for you to soil a brave hand. We will get a snake to strangle him; a buzzard to pick his grain of a soul out of his vile carcass;[34] an ass to kick him to death. We must observe the proprieties."
"Pardon my heat!" said the eunuch. "My zeal for my prince has led me too far."
"Not at all!" said Selim. "It is pleasant to see that you have some heat in your cold blooded toad nature."
"It is better for us to retire," said the eunuch to Mahomet. "I shall sound the signal for the close of the games."
Mahomet stood stubbornly for awhile; then turning to Michael said in a tone which was strangely without a shade of anger or petulance in it:
"Say, young Giaour, you and I must have this out some day."