“He who can brave death,” replies the haughty Pulaski, “can support slavery. My daughter shall never be the wife of a traitor.”
“Do you love better that she should be a Tartar’s mistress?---If you do not promise to give her, within the space of eight days, to this brave man, I myself shall espouse her this very night! When I am weary of you and of her, I will sell you to the Turks. Your daughter is handsome enough to find admittance into the haram of a bashaw: and you yourself may perhaps superintend the kitchen of some janissary.”
“My life is in your hands; do with it whatsoever you please. If Pulaski falls beneath the sword of a Tartar, he will be lamented, and even his enemies will agree that he merits a more glorious destiny: but if he were to consent: No! no! I rather choose---I prefer death!”
“I do not desire your death! I wish only that Lovzinski should espouse Lodoiska. What!---Shall my prisoner give the law to me? By my sabre!---this dog of a Christian---but I am in the wrong---he is furious, and is assuredly deprived of his reason.”
I now beheld the Tartar’s eyes sparkle with fury, and therefore recalled to his memory the promise he had made me, that he would not give way to his passion.
“Undoubtedly! but this man wearies out the patience of a favourite of our prophet! I am but a robber!---Yet Pulaski, I repeat it to you again, that it is my command that Lovzinski espouse your daughter. By my sabre, he has fairly gained her; but for him she had been burnt last night.”
“But for him!”
“Yes! Behold those ruins; there stood a tower in that place; it was on fire, and no person dared to ascend it: he, however, mounted the stair-case, attended by Boleslas---and they saved your daughter!”
“Was my daughter in that tower?”