"Be merciful," she prayed, but there was a change in her voice also, it was no longer so humble, but trembled with inward emotion.
He turned from her.
"Return to your home," he said, in a commanding voice. "First, however, tell your father that he must submit himself, and prevail upon these rebels to become obedient. If he succeeds, I swear, in the name of Allah, that he shall return with you to his home. Speak to him, and prove the power of your words."
"Return, Masa," said the sheik, in an unfaltering voice. "It was most improper for you to come here. You did it from love to me, therefore it must be pardoned. Now, however, I order you to go home, and remain there, as it becomes a woman. I, however, praise Allah; he alone must decide my fate, and the fate of all."
"No, father, I cannot leave you," cried Masa, breathlessly, pressing her father's hands to her lips. "Remember, you are the Lord of my life, the light of my eyes! Remember that I have no one but you in all the world, and that your Masa is as solitary as in a wilderness when you are not beside her. Remember that, O my father!"
"Enough!" interrupted Mohammed, in a harsh voice. "Enough words.— You there, you men of Praousta, will you pay the tax, the double tax, as the tschorbadji has ordered?"
The men, who had pressed close against the high porch outside the mosque, remained silent for a moment and looked hesitatingly before them.
"Will you pay it?" repeated Mohammed. "You will, I am sure."
"No!" cried the sheik, aloud. "You will not, you shall not, pay this tax!"
"No," repeated the three ulemas. "No, you will not, you shall not, pay this tax!"