Then suddenly, as if inspired by the bold words of the four prisoners, the men held themselves more erect, and, looking threateningly at Mohammed and at the soldiers, repeated what the ulemas had said. "No, we will not, we will not pay the tschorbadji the double tax! We will pay neither the double nor the simple tax!"
"Good! you have spoken," said Mohammed. "Your fate is decided, and that of these men also!—Collectors, lock the door."
Masa uttered a cry, and, rushing to Mohammed, clung wildly to his knees.
"Mercy, lord, have mercy! Think of your own father, think of your mother! If you have a mother that you love, oh, think of her!"
He pushed her roughly and hastily from him. That word pierced his heart like a knife, and still he dared not listen to it.
There was a threatening murmur among the men, and several sought to press forward, but the collectors threatened them with instant death if they came forward a single step.
Two of the soldiers approached the young girl to carry her out.
"Let no one dare touch me, or I will throw myself on your swords!" she cried. "If I must go, I will do so. But on you be the blood of my father if it is shed! I tell you, if you murder him, I will die also; and if you have a father or a mother in heaven, I will accuse you, young man!"
She uttered these words in a ringing voice, then flew toward the door. The soldiers pushed her out, and the collectors threw the iron-bound doors together.
"Now I turn to you," said Mohammed, breathing more freely, and looking toward the sheik and the ulemas.