They now lift up the wounded man who lies beside the dead bey, in the large boat in which they had first seen the capitan standing with the two beys.
"Bring him up the ladder," cries the boulouk bashi.
He is unconscious, and is bleeding from three wounds. But even in this condition he still grasps his dagger so firmly that it cannot be torn from his band, and as the soldiers attempt it he awakens and opens his eyes.
"You are treacherous scoundrels, all of you! Osman Bey Bardissi declares you to be such."
The boulouk bashi starts as he hears this name, steps forward and gazes long and earnestly at the bey, whom he had once seen as a boy.
Must he meet him now in this condition? His gaze is fixed on him, and he tries to recognize in his features the boy of former days.
"You are scoundrels!" cries, for the second time, the proud chieftain. "Ye slaves of bloody tyranny—ye murderous, treacherous villains—shame and disgrace upon you all! Before Allah's throne will I accuse you, ye treacherous, slavish Turks."
With cries of rage they throw themselves upon him to strangle him.
But an arm burls them back with a giant's strength.
"Do you wish to murder those who can no longer defend themselves?
Back! The life of the wounded, of the vanquished enemy, is sacred."