"Good. His majesty, the celebrated Ali Pasha, sends you word to enter this carriage without delay and come to my lord in camp at Klein-Selyk, and that without any attendants."
"That's a pretty story," muttered Apafi to himself. "I beg your pardon, worthy Aga," he added aloud, "just at present it is quite impossible for me to carry out this wish, as my wife is in travail, and any moment may decide her life or death. I cannot leave her now."
"Call a doctor if your wife is sick; and remember that you will not restore her to health by bringing down the anger of the Pasha on you."
"Grant me only one day and then it does not matter if it costs me my life."
"I tell you, it won't cost you your life if you only obey, but if you don't you may soon cause yourself trouble; so be reasonable."
Anna from her room heard the conversation outside, and full of anxiety called her husband to her. "What's the matter?" asked the sufferer, anxiously.
"Nothing, nothing, sweetheart, I have just had a summons but I am not going."
But Madame Apafi had seen the spear-points of the Turks through the window curtains and said in despair, "Michael, they want to carry you off!" and she pressed her husband convulsively to her breast; "they shall kill me rather than drag you off into slavery so that I lose you again."
"Keep quiet, my dear child. I am sure I do not know what they want of me. I certainly have not done the good people any harm. At the most they will demand a tax, which I will get together at once."
"I have a presentiment of something dreadful; my heartstrings tighten, harm has come to you," stammered the sick woman, and she broke out into violent sobbing and threw herself on her husband. "Michael, I shall never see you again!"