The weeping cortege passed bands of pillagers repeatedly.
Once what may be termed a string in fact was met going in the opposite direction; women and children, and men and women were lashed together, like animals, and their lamentations were piteous. If they fell or faltered, they were beaten. It seemed barbarity could go no further.
Once the Count was halted. A man of rank, with a following at his heels, congratulated him in Turkish:
"O friend, thou hast a goodly capture."
The stranger came nearer.
"I will give you twenty gold pieces for this one," pointing to the Princess Irene, who, fortunately, could not understand him—"and fifteen for this one."
"Go thy way, and quickly," said Corti, sternly.
"Dost thou threaten me?"
"By the Prophet, yes—with my sword, and the Padishah."
"The Padishah! Oh, ho!" and the man turned pale. "God is great—I give him praise."