"The more I suffer," said Béldi, in a strangely calm voice, "the more reason I have to rejoice that my country does not suffer instead of me."
The Grand Vizier thereupon said something in Turkish which Maurocordato sadly interpreted: "The Grand Seignior informs thee that because of money thou hast been cast into prison, and only money can release thee; promise, therefore, two hundred and seventy purses, and thou shalt get the Principality to enable thee to pay it."
"I have told you my determination," said Béldi, "and I will not depart from it. I will not promise money to the detriment of my country. I will not lead an army against it, and I will not break my oath. These were and will be my words from which I can never depart."
"Never!" cried Kucsuk Pasha, pressing through the crowd. "Wilt thou not even now?"—and with that he led a pale female figure towards Béldi.
"My wife!" exclaimed the captive, and he gripped fast his chains lest he should collapse for joy, terror, and surprise.
The pale woman in mourning fell upon his bosom, her tears became his fetters.
Paul Béldi burst into tears, he fell back upon his stone bench, his very soul was shattered. He remained clinging upon his wife's neck, speechless, unable to utter a word, and the whining dog licked now the hand of his master and now the lady's hand.
"Let us turn aside," said Kucsuk Pasha; "let us leave them together"—and the Turks withdrew from the dungeon, leaving Paul Béldi alone with his wife.
"I fancied," said Dame Béldi when she was able to utter a word amidst her choking sobs. "I fancied I was suffering instead of you, and oh! you were suffering more than I."
"How did you come here?" asked Béldi, in a low stifled voice.