“And what is now to be done?” asked Mariano, with a look of perplexity. “Bacri has been kind enough to get me out of that horrible Bagnio just in time to save me from torture of some sort; but here we are in the heart of a city in a state of insurrection, with almost every street-corner guarded, and bands of men, that appear to me to be devils in turbans, going about seeking for subjects on whom to exercise their skill.”
“The insurrection is over—at least this one is over,” said Jacob Mordecai sadly, “though it may well be that another insurrection shall follow close on its heels; but it is probable that there will be some degree of peace now for a time, and the guarded condition of the town will favour your escape.”
“How so, Signor Mordecai?” asked Francisco; “it has hitherto been my belief as well as experience that a town in a state of siege was the reverse of favourable to anything implying freedom of action.”
“Thou art right, friend,” returned Jacob, with a smile, “and that absence of freedom will keep the streets clear of all who might otherwise interrupt thee, while, as to the guarded corners, my brother Bacri knows a variety of passages above and under ground, through which he will guide you past them to the city wall.”
“Then let us be gone without delay,” urged Francisco, “for, good sirs, my neck has for some time past felt sundry twinges, as though the bow-string were already around it.”
“Half an hour must elapse ere we can venture forth with safety,” said Bacri. “’Tis well that you have brought the knotted rope with you. Mariano knows how to use it. He will explain the mode of escape which you must follow, while I hold private converse with my brother.”
So saying the kindly Jew bowed his tall form to his friends with the air of a king, and accompanied Jacob Mordecai into an inner room.
At the end of the time specified—which had appeared an age to the impatient trio—Bacri returned to the skiffa with two coarse burnouses similar to the one worn by Mariano. He directed Francisco and Lucien to put these on, after exchanging their varied habiliments for the jacket, short drawers, and red fez or cap, worn by Moors of the middle class. He then produced some brown ochre, with which he stained their hands and their legs below the knee—these latter parts being usually uncovered in Moors who did not belong to the wealthy classes.
“Why not paint our faces too?” asked Mariano, amused at the figure they cut, despite the dangers which rendered the disguise necessary.
“Because neither the painting of your faces,” replied Bacri, “nor the shaving of your heads—which latter would be essential to the converting of you into genuine Moors—would constitute any disguise were your voices to be heard or your features to be scrutinised. You must be careful to pull the hoods of your burnouses well forward on your faces. All that you can hope to gain by your costume is to avoid attracting the attention of any whom you should chance to meet, or whom you may have to pass at a distance. If any one speaks to you after you reach the open country, refuse to answer. If he should insist on it, you must either run or fight, for which latter purpose I provide you with these short swords, which you will find better suited to your hands than the curved weapons of the Turks.”