"Do not ask me, excellency," replied the tschorbadji, with a bow; "one portion of the taxes goes as usual to Stamboul, into the coffers of his highness; the other portion—"
"Ah, I understand," said Cousrouf, with a proud smile; "the other portion is, through an order from Stamboul, destined for me. That is so, is it not, tschorbadji?"
"Yes, excellency, if you wish to know the truth, it is."
"And these dogs refuse to pay for the benefit of Cousrouf Pacha, the grand-vizier of his highness, the friend and comrade of the Admiral Hussein, and you will not shoot them down like mad dogs, tachorbadji; you wish to negotiate with these audacious men, who mock at my greatness in refusing me the tribute! These slaves believe that, because Cousrouf Pacha condescends to live in this desolate place—this miserable nest they can mock and deny me their respect with impunity. But I tell you, tschorbadji, I tell you, and all the men of Praousta and Cavalla, you shall remember this day! If these men do not submit, if they do not pay what they ought to pay, then you may all beware, for a day will come, and, by Allah, it is not far off, when Cousrouf Pacha will leave his exile with new honors! Remember this, tschorbadji, and act accordingly."
"I shall remember it, excellency," said the tschorbadji, respectfully; "I have never failed in reverence and respect to the noble guest whom his highness graciously sent here; I accepted it as a favor, and during my entire life I shall remember the days that it pleased Cousrouf Pacha to become a guest in my house."
The words of the tschorbadji, humbly and respectfully as they were spoken, rankled in the sensitive soul of the proud pacha. He started, and his brow darkened. He had partaken of the tschorbadji's hospitality, and had never thanked him for it, and never returned it. The tax that the men of Praousta were commanded to pay, was by an order from Stamboul, destined for Cousrouf Pacha, and this was a sign to the proud man that his sun was in the ascendant, that he would soon be released from his exile, and therefore he was defiant and haughty toward the tschorbadji.
At the angry words of the pacha, Osman, the usually mild and gentle youth, arose from the divan, and placed himself at his father's side, as if he wished to defend the tschorbadji from the proud and mocking words of the stranger.
The father felt and understood what was passing in the youth's soul; he laid his hand softly upon his shoulder. "Calm yourself, my son; may the rights of a guest be as sacred to you as to me—his excellency has been our esteemed guest for three years, remember this, and forget that he was a little hard just now. Allah be with him! Allah make all our hearts tender and gentle!"
"You must remember, pacha, that here, in our small portion of the great world, we cannot make so great and magnificent a display as you can make in your brilliant career in the great city of Stamboul. We have no soldiers here except my small body-guard of eight men; the rest of our small military force is now stationed elsewhere. It would be very unfortunate if I should incite to violence the men who, even if armed with knives only, would still be able to overpower us all. It will therefore be better to negotiate with them than to proceed to extreme measures."
"Well, what course have you decided upon?" asked Cousrouf, in a milder tone.