Suddenly the sub-seraskier dashed his glass upon the table and exclaimed, with a furious expression of countenance:
"I'll drink no more! I'll drink no more! Thou art a villain, Ali! Thou hast made me drink wine and hast lied to me, saying it was not wine; but it is wine, a frightful, burning drink, which has made my head whirl."
"Come, come, Mehemet," said Ali, in the coaxing tone one uses to drunken men, "be not so wrathful."
"Speak not to me, thou dog!" thundered the other, striking the table with his fist. "I might have known when I dismounted at thy door with whom I had to do, thou sly, treacherous fox, thou godless renegade!"
Ali leaped from his seat with flashing eyes, and clapped his hand on the hilt of his sword at these words; but Eminah seized his hand, and said to him, in a terrified whisper:
"Draw not thy sword, Ali; show no weapons here! Dost thou not perceive that he only came hither to fasten a quarrel upon thee?"
Ali instantly recovered himself at these words. He saw now the snare that had been laid for him, and calmly sat down in his place again, crossing his legs beneath him, and, quietly taking up his chibook, began to smoke with an air of unconcern.
Meanwhile, Mehemet played his drunken rôle still further.
"I might have known beforehand, when I sat down at table with thee, that I was sitting down with an accursed wretch, thou blood-thirsty dog, who hath lapped up the blood of thy kinsfolk; but I never ventured to imagine that thou wouldst be audacious enough to make me drink that abominable liquid—may its sinfulness fall back again on thine accursed head!"
With these words Mehemet caught up the half full glass and pitched all the wine that was in it straight between Ali's eyes, so that it trickled down the full length of his long white beard.