Then the Kizlar-Aga led them down to the gate. A cart drawn by two oxen was standing there, and the top of it was covered with a mat of rushes. He drew aside a corner of this mat, and by the uncertain light of dawn they saw before them three corpses, the Kiaja's, the Kapudan's, and the Grand Vizier's.
Happy Gül-Bejáze sits in Halil's lap and dreamily allows herself to be cradled in his arms. Through the windows of the splendid palace penetrate the shouts of triumph which hail Halil as Lord, for the moment, of the city of Stambul and the whole Ottoman Empire.
Gül-Bejáze tremulously whispers in Halil's ear how much she would prefer to dwell in a simple, lonely little hut in Anatolia instead of there in that splendid palace.
Halil smooths away the luxuriant locks from his wife's forehead, and makes her tell him once more the full tale of all those revolting incidents which befell her in the Seraglio, in the captivity of the Kapudan's house, and in the dungeon for dishonourable women. Why should he keep on arousing hatred and vengeance?
The woman told him everything with a shudder. At her husband's feet, right in front of them, stood three baskets full of flowers. Halil had given them to her as a present.
But at the bottom of the baskets were still more precious gifts.
He draws forward the first basket and sweeps away the flowers. A bloody head is at the bottom of the basket.
"Whose is that?"
Gül-Bejáze, all shuddering, lisped the name of Abdi Pasha.