Every hour the guards went the rounds of the building. One of the soldiers, in passing the door of Murad’s chamber, slipped, and fell at full length on the pavement, to the great scandal of his commanding officer. Picking himself up, he beat a retreat to the guard-room, amid the jeers of his brothers-in-arms.
[Original Size] -- [Medium-Size]
The guard-room was dimly lit by a smoky lamp, which, however, gave enough light to enable the soldier, on approaching it, to perceive that his hands were covered with blood. Thinking that he was wounded, he felt himself all over, and found that his clothes were similarly discoloured.
“This is odd,” said he to his officer. “I am not wounded, and yet look at the state of my hands and my uniform!”
The officer seized a lantern, and hastened to retraverse the rounds of the palace. On arriving at the door of Murad’s apartment, he paused in alarm, for he perceived a slender stream of blood, which took its rise within the chamber. He rushed off in haste to inform the commandant in charge for the night.