The key to this problem was not to be found.
And another riddle was connected with this one. If Ali's treasure (whether honestly come by or not) only consists of eleven or twelve thousand ducats altogether, why does the Turkish Government institute a pursuit on such a large scale, sending a brigantine with four-and-twenty rowers, and spies and couriers after him? What would be a heap of money for a poor supercargo is for his highness the Padischa only a trifle; and even if it had been possible to lay an embargo on the whole cargo, representing a value of ten or twelve thousand ducats, by the time it had passed through the fingers of all the informers, tax-collectors, and other official cut-purses, there would be hardly enough left for the sultan to fill his pipe with.
Was it not ridiculous to set such great machinery in motion in order to secure so small a prize?
Or was it not so much the money as Timéa that was the object? Timar had enough romance about him to find this a plausible assumption, however little it agreed with a supercargo's one-times-one multiplication table.
One evening the wind dispersed the clouds, and when Timar looked out of his cabin window he saw on the western horizon the crescent moon.
The "red moon!"
The glowing sickle seemed to touch the glassy surface of the Danube. It looked to Timar as if it really had a human face, as it is depicted in the almanacs, and as if it said something to him with its crooked mouth. Only that he could not always understand—it is a strange language.
Moonstruck people perhaps comprehend it, for they follow it; only they, as well as the sleep-walkers, remember nothing of what was said when they awake. It was as if the moon answered Timar's questions. Which? All. And the beating of his heart? or his calculations? All.
Only that he could not put these answers into words.
The red crescent dipped slowly toward the water, and sent its reflected rays along the waves as far as the ship's bows, as if to say, "Don't you understand now?" At last it drew its horns gently below the surface, saying plainly, "I shall return to-morrow, and then you will know."