"I am, because, if one has bad and faithless servants, he should discharge them. Yes, it seems to me a master is responsible for his servants' actions."
"And therefore, have I summoned you to this audience. Do you know what your kachef Youssouf has done?"
Sitta Nefysseh trembled. It was fortunate that her veil concealed her features, and that Cousrouf could not see the deathly pallor that overspread her cheeks.
"My kachef?" said she, with forced composure. "Of what is he accused?"
"He is accused of attempting to bribe my soldiers, and incite them to revolt and treason."
"That is not true!" exclaimed she, passionately. "That is a falsehood, and I tell you so to your face! My words are true. My kachef has never done such things; he is incapable of inciting any one to a breach of faith or to treason. He is the truest and best of my servants."
"And yet it is true. Your kachef has incited my soldiers to treason. The viceroy says it is true!" cried Cousrouf. "Youssouf attempted to corrupt one of my own soldiers, an Armenian, urging him to go over to Osman Bardissi. When the soldier refused, he promised to give him the same pay he now receives from me."
"Highness, that is not true, I swear it is not!"
"Here is the proof!" answered Cousrouf, rising to his feet and taking from the table a paper, which he unfolded. "Here is the proof! Here it is, plainly written in his own handwriting! Herein your kachef Youssouf promises my soldier, Sadok Aga, to give him his whole pay, and even double the amount, if he will undertake to ride to Bardissi's camp and convey a letter to the bey. Here it is in his own handwriting, and signed by him."
"Highness, I beg you to let me see the writing," said Nefysseh, extending her hand to take the paper. "Let me see it; I can read."