CHAPTER TEN. · Part 1

CHAPTER TEN.

SHOWS WHAT LESSONS WERE TAUGHT IN THE BAGNIO, AND DESCRIBES A BRAVE DASH FOR FREEDOM.

Bacri, the chief of the Jews, proved as good as his word.

By means of a golden lever he moved some one, who moved some one else, who moved the Dey to make certain inquiries about the slaves in the Bagnio, which resulted in his making the discovery that Lucien Rimini was a first-rate linguist and an excellent scribe.

Immediately he was commanded to fill the office of scrivano to the Dey-- that post being vacant in consequence of the previous secretary having given his master some offence, for which he had had his head cut off.

But Lucien's elevation did not necessarily improve the condition of his father and brother. The Dey cared only for those slaves who made themselves useful to him; their relations he utterly ignored, unless they succeeded in gaining his regard. The Sicilians had too much common-sense to expect any great immediate advantage from the change, nevertheless, the slight hope which had been aroused by this event enabled the two who were left in the Bagnio to endure their lot with greater fortitude and resignation. As for Lucien, he resolved to win the Dey's esteem in order to be able to influence him in favour of his father and brother.

"We must learn to submit, my son," said Francisco, one evening, while he and Mariano were finishing the last crumbs of the black bread which constituted their morning and evening meals.

"I admit it, father," said Mariano, with a long-drawn sigh. "Bacri was right; but it's not easy to bear. For myself, I think I could stand their insults and their lash better if they would only spare you, but when I see the villains strike you as they did to-day--oh, father!"-- Mariano flushed and clenched his hands--"it makes me so wild that I feel as though the blood would burst my veins. You cannot wonder that I find it impossible to submit."

"God bless you, boy," said Francisco, laying his hand on the youth's shoulder; "I understand your feelings--nevertheless it were well that you learned to restrain them, for rebellion only works evil. You saw what was the consequence of your attacking the man who struck me to-day--you got knocked down and bastinadoed, and I--"

Francisco paused.

"Yes, go on, father, I know what you mean."

"Well, I would not hurt your feelings by mentioning it--as you say, you know what I mean."

"You mean," said Mariano, "that in consequence of my violence they gave you an additional flogging. True, father, true; and _that_ is the one thing that will now enable me to suffer in silence."

At this point in the conversation they were interrupted by a deep groan from a young man in the cell opposite, which was prolonged into an appalling cry.

Most of the slaves in the foul den had finished their meagre meal and lain down on the hard floors to seek, in heavy slumber, the repose which was essential to fit them for the toils of the coming day.

Some of them awoke and raised themselves on their elbows, but sank back again on seeing that nothing particular had occurred. A few who had been rendered callous by their sufferings did not take the trouble to move, but Francisco and Mariano rose and hastened to the man, supposing him to have fallen into a fit. Mariano moved with difficulty owing to the chains, upwards of sixty pounds weight, which he wore as a punishment for his recent violence.

"Go--go back to your rest," said the man, who lay with clenched teeth and hands, as Francisco kneeled beside him, "there is nothing the matter with me."

"Nay, friend, you are mistaken," said Francisco, taking his hand kindly; "your look, and that perspiration on your brow, tell me that something is the matter with you. Let me call our jailer, and--"

"Call our jailer!" exclaimed the young man, with a fierce laugh; "d'you think that he'd take any notice of a sick slave? No, when we get sick we are driven out to work till we get well. If we don't get well, we are left to die."

"Surely, surely not!" said Francisco.

"Surely not!" repeated the young man. "Look; look there!"

He pointed as he spoke to the old man who lay on his back at full length in the recess next to his own.

"See. He is a free man now! I knew he was to be released to-night. I have seen many and many a one set free thus since I came here."

Francisco was horrified, on going to the place where the old man lay, to find that he was dead. He had observed him tottering and looking very feeble at his work in the stone-quarries that day, but in his own misery had forgotten him since returning to the Bagnio.

"Too true!" he said, returning to the young man; "his troubles are indeed ended; but tell me what is it that ails thyself."

"'Tis memory," said the young man, raising himself on his elbow, and gazing sadly into Francisco's face. "Your conversation to-night for a moment aroused memories which I have long sought to stifle.--Lad," he said, laying a hand impressively on Mariano's arm, "take the advice that Bacri gave you. I was once as you are. I came here--years ago--with a father like thine; but he was an older and a feebler man. Like you, I fought against our fate with the ferocity of a wild beast, and they tortured me until my life hung by a thread, for I could not endure to see the old man beaten. As you said just now, `you cannot wonder that I found it impossible to submit,' but they taught me to submit. Oh! they are clever devils in their cruelty. They saw that I cared not for my life, but they also saw that I suffered through my father, and at last when _I_ became rebellious they beat _him_. _That_ tamed me, and taught me submission. The old one who lies there was a friend and comrade in sorrow of the dear father who was set free a year ago. I lay thinking of them both to-night, and when I saw you two taking the first steps on the weary path which I have trod so long--and have now, methinks, well-nigh finished--I could not restrain myself. But go--get all the rest you can. We cannot afford to waste the hours in talk. Only be sure, lad, that you take the Jew's advice--submit."

Without replying, the father and son crept back to their hard couch. Had they been in more comfortable circumstances their thoughts might have caused them to toss in feverish restlessness, but sheer muscular exhaustion, acting on healthy frames, caused them to fall at once into a deep slumber, from which they were rudely aroused next morning at four o'clock to proceed to the Marina, where they were to be engaged that day on certain repairs connected with the bulwarks of the harbour.

On the way down they were joined by an old man in a semi-clerical costume, whose gentle demeanour appeared to modify even the cruel nature of their savage guards, for they ceased to crack their whips at his approach, and treated him with marked respect.

Some of the slaves appeared to brighten into new creatures on beholding him, and spoke to him in earnest tones, addressing him as Padre Giovanni.

The padre had a consoling word for all, and appeared to be well acquainted with the various languages in which they spoke.

Approaching Francisco and his son he walked beside them.

"Thou hast arrived but recently, methinks?" he said in a tone of commiseration, "and hast suffered much already."

"Ay, we have suffered somewhat," replied Francisco in an off-hand tone, not feeling much inclined to be communicative just then.

In a few minutes, however, Giovanni had ingratiated himself with the Sicilians to such an extent that they had related all their sad history to him, and already began to feel as if he were an old friend, before they had traversed the half-mile that lay between their nightly prison and the harbour.

Arrived at their place of toil--the artificial neck connecting the little light-house island with the mainland,--Mariano was ordered to convey large masses of stone for the supply of a gang of slaves who were building a new face to the breakwater, while his father was harnessed, with another gang, to the cart that conveyed the stones to their destination along a temporary tramway.

The severity of the labour consisted chiefly in the intense heat under which it was performed, and in the unremitting nature of it. It must not be imagined, however, that there was not a single touch of humanity in the breasts of the cruel slave-drivers. Hard task-masters though they undoubtedly were, some of them were wont to turn aside and look another way when any of the poor slaves sat down for a few minutes, overcome with exhaustion.

There was little opportunity allowed, however, for intercourse among the unfortunates. One or two who, judging from their faces, showed sympathetic leanings towards each other, were immediately observed and separated. This had the effect of hardening some, while it drove others to despair.

One of those whose spirit seemed to vacillate between despair and ferocity was the young man already referred to as being an inhabitant of Francisco's part of the Bagnio. He was a Portuguese, named Castello. In carrying the stones to and fro, he and Mariano had to pass each other regularly every three or four minutes. The latter observed, after a time, that Castello glanced at him with peculiar intelligence. At first he was puzzled, but on next passing him he determined to give him a similar look. He did so. Next time that Castello passed he said, in a low tone, without looking up, and without in the least checking his pace--

"Better to die than this!"

Mariano was taken by surprise, and at first made no reply, for he recalled the man's advice of the previous night, but, on passing the Portuguese again, he said, in the same low tone--

"Yes, much better!"

Curious to know what was meant by this--for the tones and glances of Castello were emphatic--Mariano kept on the alert as he repassed his comrade, expecting more. He was not disappointed, though the nature of the communication tended to increase his surprise.

"Fall and hurt yourself," whispered Castello, and passed on.

Much perplexed, Mariano tried to conceive some reason for such a strange order, but failed. He was, however, one of those rare spirits who have the capacity, in certain circumstances, to sink themselves--not blindly, but intelligently--and place implicit confidence in others. Hastily reviewing the _pros_ and _cons_ while laying his stone on the breakwater, and feeling assured that no great harm could possibly come of compliance, he gave a nod to his comrade in passing.

"I want to speak to you," muttered Castello briefly.

At once the reason flashed on Mariano's mind. The delay consequent on the fall would afford opportunity for a few more sentences than it was possible to utter in passing.

On returning, therefore, with a huge stone on his shoulder, just as he passed his friend he fell with an admirable crash, and lay stunned on the ground.

Castello instantly kneeled by his side and raised his head.

"Ten of us," he said quickly, "intend to make a dash for the Bab-el-Oued gate on the way back to-night: join us. It's neck or nothing."

"I will, if my father agrees," said Mariano, still lying with closed eyes--unconscious!

"If he does, pull your hat on one side of your head as you--" A tremendous lash from a whip cut short the sentence, and caused Castello to spring up. "Rise, you dog!" cried the Turk who had bestowed it; "are Christians so delicate that they need to be nursed for every fall?"

Castello hurried back to his work without a word of reply, and Mariano, opportunely recovering, with a view to avoid a similar cut, staggered on with his stone; but the Turk quickened his movements by a sharp flip on the shoulder, which cut a hole in his shirt, and left a bright mark on his skin.

For one moment the gush of the old fierce spirit almost overcame the poor youth, but sudden reflection and certain tender sensations about the soles of his feet came to his aid, in time to prevent a catastrophe.

When the slaves were collecting together that evening on the breakwater, Mariano managed to get alongside of his father, who at first was very unwilling to run the risk proposed.

"It's not that I'm afraid o' my neck, lad," said the bluff merchant, "but I fear there is no chance for us, and they might visit their wrath on poor Lucien."

"No fear, father; I am convinced that the Dey has already found out his value. Besides, if we escape we shall be able to raise funds to ransom him."

Francisco shook his head.

"And what," said he, "are we to do when we get clear out of the Bab-el-Oued gate, supposing we are so far lucky?"

"Scatter, and make for the head of Frais Vallon," whispered Castello as he passed. "A boat waits at Barbarossa's Tower. Our signal is--"

Here the Portuguese gave a peculiar whistle, which was too low to be heard by the guards, who were busy marshalling the gang.

"You'll agree, father?" urged Mariano, entreatingly.

The merchant replied by a stern "Yes" as the gang was ordered to move on.

Mariano instantly gave his straw hat a tremendous pull to one side, and walked along with a glow of enthusiasm in his countenance. One of the guards, noting this, stepped forward and walked beside him.

"So much the better," thought Mariano; "there will be no time lost when we grapple."

Traversing the passages of the mole, the gang passed into the town, and commenced to thread those narrow streets which, to the present day, spread in a labyrinth between the port and Bab-el-Oued.

As they passed through one of those streets which, being less frequented than most of the others, was unusually quiet, a low hiss was heard.

At the moment Mariano chanced to be passing an open doorway which led, by a flight of stairs, into a dark cellar. Without an instant's hesitation he tripped up his guard and hurled him headlong into the cellar, where, to judge from the sounds, he fell among crockery and tin pans. At the same moment, Francisco hit a guard beside him such a blow on the chest with his fist, as laid him quite helpless on the ground.

The other ten, who had been selected and let into the intended plot by Castello on account of their superior physical powers, succeeded in knocking down the guards in their immediate neighbourhood, and then all of them dashed with headlong speed along the winding street.

There were one or two passengers and a few small shops in the street, but the thing had been done so suddenly and with so little noise, that the passengers and owners of the shops were not aware of what had occurred until they beheld the twelve captives rush past them like a torrent--each seizing, as he passed, a broom-handle, or any piece of timber that might form a handy weapon.

Of course the other guards, and such of the maltreated ones as retained consciousness, shouted loudly, but they did not dare to give chase, lest the other slaves should take it into their heads to follow their comrades. Poor creatures! most of them were incapable of making such an effort, and the few who might have joined had they known of the plot, saw that it was too late, and remained still.

Thus it happened that the fugitives reached the northern gate of the city before the alarm had been conveyed thither.

The sun had just set, and the warders were about to close the gates for the night, when the desperadoes, bursting suddenly round the corner of a neighbouring lane, bounded in perfect silence through the archway.

The sentinel on duty was for a few moments bereft of the power of action. Recovering himself, he discharged his musket, and gave the alarm. The whole guard turned out at once and gave chase, but the few moments lost by them had been well used by the fugitives; besides, Despair, Terror, and Hope are powerful stimulators. After running a short time together up the steep ascent of the Frais Vallon, or Fresh Valley, they scattered, according to arrangement, and each man shifted for himself--with the single exception of Mariano, who would not leave his father.

Seeing this, the Turks also scattered, but in this condition they began to waver--all the more that the short twilight of those regions was rapidly deepening into night. They reflected that the guarding of their gate was a prior duty to the hunting down of runaway slaves, and, one by one, dropped off, each supposing that the others would, no doubt, go on, so that the officer of the guard soon found himself alone with only one of his men.

Having observed that two of the fugitives kept together, these Turks resolved to keep them in view. This was not difficult, for they were both young and active, while Francisco was middle-aged and rather heavy.

"Stay a moment, boy," cried the bluff padrone, as they tolled up the rather steep ascent of the valley.

Mariano stopped.

"Come on, father; they are overhauling us."

"I know it, boy," said Francisco, taking Mariano by the shoulders and kissing his forehead. "Go thou; run! It is all over with me. God bless thee, my son."

"Father," said the youth impressively, grasping a mass of timber which he had wrenched from a shop front in passing, "if you love me, keep moving on, I will stop these two, or--Farewell!"

Without waiting for a reply, the youth rushed impetuously down the hill, and was soon engaged in combat with the two Turks.

"Foolish boy!" muttered Francisco, hastening after him.

Mariano made short work of the soldier, hitting him such a blow on the turban that he fell as if he had been struck by a sledge-hammer. Unfortunately the blow also split up the piece of timber, and broke it short off at his hands. He was therefore at the mercy of the young officer, who, seeing the approach of Francisco, rushed swiftly at his foe, whirling a keen scimitar over his head.

Mariano's great activity enabled him to avoid the first cut, and he was about to make a desperate attempt to close, when a large stone whizzed past his ear and hit his adversary full on the chest, sending him over on his back.

"Well aimed, father!" exclaimed Mariano, as the two turned and continued the ascent of the valley.

At its head Frais Vallon narrows into a rugged gorge, and is finally lost in the summit of the hills lying to the northward of Algiers. Here the panting pair arrived in half-an-hour, and here they found that all their comrades had arrived before them.

"Friends," said Castello, who was tacitly regarded as the leader of the party, "we have got thus far in safety, thank God! We must now make haste to Pointe Pescade. It lies about three or four miles along the shore. There a negro friend of mine has a boat in readiness. He told me of it only an hour before I spoke to you to-night. If we reach it and get off to sea, we may escape; if not, we can but die! Follow me."

Without waiting for a reply, Castello ran swiftly along a foot-path that crossed over the hills, and soon led his party down towards that wild and rocky part of the coast on which stand the ruins of a fort, said to have been the stronghold of the famous pirate Barbarossa in days of old.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

IS DIPLOMATIC AND OTHERWISE.

Just after the escape of the slaves, as already narrated, the British consul demanded a private audience of the Dey. His request was granted, and one morning early he set off on horseback to the city. Arriving there too soon, he put up his horse, and, threading his way through the streets of the old town, soon found himself in front of the small and unpretending, though massive, portal of Bacri the Jew.

He found the master of the house seated in the central court, or skiffa, drinking coffee with his wife and children.

"Bacri," said the Colonel, "may I venture to interrupt your present agreeable occupation? I wish to have a talk with you in private."

"With pleasure," replied the Jew, rising and ushering his visitor into a small apartment, the peculiar arrangement and contents of which betokened it the wealthy merchant's study or office,--indeed, it might have been styled either with equal propriety, for Bacri, besides being an able man of business, was learned in Arabic literature--of which the town possessed, and still possesses, a valuable library,--and was a diligent student of the Hebrew Scriptures.

"You are aware," said the Colonel, "that I am, at your request, about to use my influence with the Dey in behalf of certain friends of yours. Now, there is an old saying--and I have great respect for many old sayings,--that `one good turn deserves another.' May I, then, ask you to do me a favour?"

"Certainly," said the Jew. "Name it."

"You must know, then, that the Dey has been pleased to send me a pretty Portuguese girl as a slave, along with her infant child."

"I know it," said Bacri.

"You do? Well, this poor girl turns out to be a very sweet creature, and my wife, although somewhat annoyed at first by the unexpected gift, and puzzled what to do with her, is now so fond of her, and finds her so gentle as well as useful, that she has set her heart on having Paulina Ruffini--that is her name--freed and sent home. This, however, is not the point. Paulina has a sister named--"

"Angela Diego," interrupted the Jew.

"Oh! you know that too?" said the Colonel, with some surprise. "You seem to know everything that goes on in this curious city! Indeed, it is a belief in this general knowledge of yours that brings me here. Well, poor Paulina is naturally in great anxiety about her sister's fate, not having heard of her since the day they were cruelly separated by Sidi Hassan. The latter is now my janissary, and tells me that he sold Angela to a Jew in the public market, and does not know where she is. Believing that you can find this out for me, I have come hither this morning on my way to the palace. Do you think you can?"

"I think I can," said the Jew, opening a door and beckoning to some one without. "Come hither, Angela. A gentleman wishes to see you."

"What! is this Paulina's sister?" said the consul in surprise, as a pretty bright-eyed girl obeyed the summons.

"Speak, fair one," said the Jew. "Dost know of one Paulina Ruffini, and her infant Angelina?"

We need scarcely add that Angela admitted, with a look of surprise, that she did, and was overwhelmed with joy on finding that her sister was a happy inmate of the consul's villa, and that in a short time she would be permitted to see her.

Leaving the Jew's house, well satisfied with his unlooked-for success in this matter, the consul proceeded to the palace, and was at once admitted into the audience-chamber.

According to custom, the Dey was seated on a sort of throne, with the huge lion-pup serving as a footstool. We have said before that this lion had a decided antipathy to the British consul. Not being able to speak, it could not give the reason why! Perhaps, although unable to speak, it might have been able to understand what was said, and, possibly, had taken offence at the straightforward manner in which the consul had more than once remonstrated with the Dey for allowing so old a pup to be at large. Be this as it may, certain it is that, on the present occasion, the lion raised its head when the consul was announced. On seeing his hated scarlet uniform, it uttered a savage growl, sprang up, and ran out of the room by another door, with its tail between its legs. In springing up, the brute had forgotten its temporary character of footstool. The result was that the Dey was tilted violently backwards, and fell off his throne in a confused and most undignified heap!

Fortunately for the lion--perchance also for the consul--Achmet possessed too much native dignity and common-sense to allow such an accident to ruffle his temper. He rose and resumed his seat with a hearty laugh, as he said--

"You see, Monsieur le Consul, that even lions are afraid of the English uniform!"

"Your highness is pleased to be complimentary," replied the consul, with a bow; "and that emboldens me to observe that a Dey should not retain the services of one who is capable of showing fear."

"Perhaps you are right," returned Achmet, with a smile; "especially one who has had the audacity to dethrone me.--And now, what demand have you to make of me to-day? Not, I trust, that old one--the liberation of slaves!"

"No, not exactly that," replied the consul. "Nevertheless," he added earnestly, "I do come to make an appeal in behalf of slaves."

The Dey's countenance became grave.

"I refer," continued the consul, "to those unfortunate slaves who recently attempted to escape, and are now lying in chains condemned to be bastinadoed, thrown on the hooks, and otherwise tortured to death."

"How!" exclaimed the Dey, frowning darkly, while a flush of anger covered his face, "can you plead for slaves who have not only rebelled and fled, but who have disabled two of my janissaries, and some of whom--especially their leader Castello and the young Sicilian Mariano-- are so turbulent as to be an absolute nuisance to their guards?"

"Your highness is aware," answered the consul respectfully, "that British ideas in regard to slavery and all connected with it are widely different from those entertained by Algerines, and I do not presume to pass an opinion on the sentences pronounced on men who are held guilty of having violated your laws. I merely plead that you will extend to them the royal prerogative of mercy--especially to two of their number, Francisco and Mariano."

"On what ground do you ask mercy for these?" demanded Achmet sternly.

"On the ground that courageous and worthy men, although tempted to rebel in order to regain their liberty, are not deserving of death; that the Portuguese girl your Highness was so generous as to send me, and who was captured along with them, has interested me deeply in their history, and also on the ground that one is the father and the other the brother of your scrivano Lucien Rimini."

"Indeed!" exclaimed the Dey in surprise, "Lucien never told me that, although his own hand made out the order for their execution!"

"That," answered the consul, with a smile, "is because I advised him to leave the pleading of their cause to me."

"Believing, no doubt," returned the Dey, with a laugh, "that your powers of persuasion are superior to his. Well, Monsieur le Consul, you may be right; nevertheless, let me tell you that short though the time be in which Lucien has been my scrivano, there is that in his modest air and ready will, as well as his talent, which constitutes a sufficient plea to induce me to pardon his relations."

"It rejoices me," said the consul, "to find that, as I expected, your highness's--"

"Yes, yes; say no more on that head," interrupted the Dey. "Here! Lucien," he added, calling aloud to his secretary, who, clad in superb Oriental costume, appeared at the door which led into his office, "make out an order to cancel the sentence against your father and brother, and let them be sent to the palace immediately. I will speak with thee again on the matter.--Meanwhile, will Monsieur le Consul come and behold the present which I am preparing for my royal master the Sublime Porte?"

There was a touch of sarcasm in the tone in which he used the words "royal master," which the consul understood well enough, for he was aware that although nominally subject to Turkey, Algiers was to all intents and purposes an independent power, and that the present referred to was almost all the benefit derived by the Sultan from his piratical vassal.

It was costly enough, no doubt, viewed simply in the light of a gift, and afforded a subject of great interest to the consul when permitted to survey it--an honour, by the way, which the Dey would not have conferred on the consul of any of the other nations represented at the Algerine court, for the British consul at that time was, as we have said, a special favourite. It consisted of two magnificent milk-white Arab horses, richly caparisoned; their saddles and bridles being profusely ornamented with diamonds and other gems, and their shoes being made of pure gold; several boxes of rare and costly jewels; six women-slaves with skins of the most beautiful ebony tint; a number of black-maned lions, several parrots, and a few monkeys.

"Your highness is resolved to please the Sultan by means of variety," observed the consul, with a smile, after commenting on the gift in detail.

"That," replied Achmet, "would have little power to please if the jewels were not numerous and costly. But happily our treasury can afford it, although we have not been very successful in war of late."

He looked at the consul with a sly smile as he spoke, but the latter deemed it wise to be lost in admiration of some of the jewels in question.

After examining the "present," the consul retired, and Achmet went to his private apartments to enjoy a cup of coffee and a pipe.

The room in which he sat was similar to that already described as being the reception-room of the bridal party, only the decorations were if possible more elaborate and sumptuous. Here, seated on rich cushions, with, not his most beautiful, but his wisest wife beside him, Achmet-- once a petty officer of janissaries--gave himself up to the enjoyment of the hour. Christian slaves--once the happy butterflies of European and other lands--attended on him, filled his pipe, brought him hot coffee, and watched his every movement. They were richly dressed, more richly and gaily, perchance, than they had ever been in the days of freedom, when they had been wont to chat and laugh with careless hilarity. But they were mute enough now. A few of them had tasted the bastinado and been tamed; most of them had been wise enough to tame themselves. If Shakespeare had been a Turk he would probably have written a very different version of the Taming of the Shrew!

When coffee was finished, the Dey ordered the attendants to withdraw, and then settling himself comfortably on the cushions, and puffing two white streams of smoke slowly through his nose, in order to gather the fullest enjoyment therefrom, he thus addressed himself to his better-proportion--we had almost said "half," but forgot for the moment that there were several Sultanas!

"Ashweesha, thou art a wise woman. I might almost style thee my guardian angel, for not only hast thou often guided me on the right road, but sometimes thou hast prevented me from straying into the wrong."

Ashweesha, who was a sweet and passably good-looking woman of about thirty, raised her large dark eyes to the face of Achmet with a look of gratitude, but did not reply. Indeed, her husband did not seem to expect an answer, for he continued to smoke for some time in silence, with his eyes fixed abstractedly on a tame gazelle--the kitten of the harem--which tried to attract his attention.

"Thou art sad, or anxious, to-night," said Ashweesha, at length breaking silence.

"Both sad and anxious," replied the Dey slowly. "My position is indeed one of power, but not of comfort or safety."

A shade rested for a moment like a flitting cloud on the face of Ashweesha. Gladly would she have exchanged her high estate, with all its costly and gorgeous array, for a life of humble toil accompanied with peace and security--for she was of gentle nature--but this was denied her.

"Listen," said the Dey, laying aside his pipe and talking earnestly; "it may well chance, as it has happened before, that thy counsel may lighten my care. I am sad because two of my chief officers are snakes in the grass. They are venomous too, and their bite will prove deadly if it be not avoided. Canst thou guess their names, Ashweesha?"

"Sidi Omar and Sidi Hassan," said Ashweesha.

Achmet looked surprised.

"Thou art partly right, though I did not expect thy swift reply. Is it a guess, or hast thou obtained information?"

"I have heard of it from one who is our friend."

"Indeed. Well, thou art right as to Omar, and it is that which makes me sad. Thou art right also in regard to Sidi Hassan, but I care little for him. He is but a tool in the hands of one whose power is great-- Hamet, our Aga of cavalry. Omar I had hoped better things of; but fear him not. The Aga, however, is a dangerous foe, and unscrupulous. I do not clearly see my way to guard against his wiles. My chief safeguard is that he and Omar are bitter enemies. I know not what to do."

"The bow-string," suggested Ashweesha.

The reader must not think this suggestion inconsistent with the character of one whom we have described as gentle and sweet. The Sultana had been trained in a peculiar school, and was as much accustomed to hear of disagreeable and troublesome people being strangled as Europeans are to the drowning of inconvenient kittens.

The Dey laughed.

"Alas! my gentle one," he said, "all powerful and despotic though I be, there are a few officers around me whom I dare not get rid of in this way--at least not just now. But it amuses me to hear thee recommend such strong measures, thou who art always on the side of mercy."

"Truly," said Ashweesha, with a flash in her dark eyes that proved the presence of other elements besides sweetness in her disposition, "my leanings are always towards mercy, save when you have to deal with those who possess no mercy. If you do not apply the bow-string to Hamet in good time, rest assured that he will apply it to you."

The Dey became more serious at this, yet still smiled as he gazed in the flushed countenance of his spouse and adviser.

"Thou art right, Ashweesha," said he, in a meditative tone, "and it is for the purpose of finding out, if possible, when it is the right time to strike that I now take counsel with thee. What wouldst thou advise?"

"Sidi Hassan, you say, has been sent to be the British consul's janissary?"

"Yes."

"For what purpose?" asked the Sultana.

"Partly to keep him out of the way of the mischief which is always brewing more or less in this warlike city; partly to flatter his vanity by placing him in the service of one for whom he knows that I entertain great respect, personally, as well as on account of the powerful nation which he represents; and partly to remind him gently of my power to order him on any service that I please, and to cut off his insolent head if so disposed."

"That is so far well," said Ashweesha, letting her delicate henna-stained fingers play idly with the gorgeous pearls which fell like a lustrous fountain from her neck, "but it is possible that he may reflect on the propriety of trying to secure, at no distant date, a master who will reward him more liberally without conveying covert threats. But much good," she hastened to add, observing that her lord did not much relish her last remark, "much good may result from his being placed under the British consul's roof; for the consul's wife is a wise woman, and may help us to discover some of his plots; for plotting he is certain to be, whether in the city or out of it, and you may be sure that a clever woman like Madame Langley will have her eyes open to all that goes on in her own palace."

"Nay, then, Ashweesha," returned the Dey, laughing, "thou hast studied the lady to small profit if thou dost believe her capable of acting the part of a spy on her own domestics."

"And thou hast studied thy wife to small profit," retorted Ashweesha playfully, "if you think I could make such a mistake as to ask her to become a spy. Does not all the city know that Madame Langley has over and over again refused the most costly bribes offered to induce her to use her influence with her husband? and is it not also well-known that if her influence is to be gained at all, it must be by touching her heart? She is so open, too, in her conduct, that her domestics know all she does. Did I not tell you, the other night, how the chief from Marocco offered her a splendid diamond ring to induce her to intreat her husband's favour in something--I know not what,--and how she flushed with indignation as she refused it, and told the chief that all the diamonds in the world could not move her to attempt the leading of her husband from the path of duty? No, I will not ask her to become a spy, but I will lead her, in conversation, to tell me all she knows, or at least is willing to communicate, about Sidi Hassan; and perchance some good may come of it."

"It may be so," said the Dey; "and where and when dost thou propose to meet with her?"

"Here, and to-morrow."

"How! in the palace?"

"Yes. Ask her and her little girl to come and dine with me," said Ashweesha.

"That would be a high compliment," returned the Dey dubiously; "such as has never been paid before, methinks, by a Dey of Algiers to any consul's wife."

"No matter," returned the Sultana; "you have a high regard for Colonel Langley, and have often paid him unusual compliments,--why not compliment his wife?"

"Well, it shall be done. To-morrow afternoon prepare to receive her."

CHAPTER TWELVE.

MRS. LANGLEY AND AGNES GO OUT TO DINNER.

An agreeable surprise is something like sunshine in November; it warms up the constitution, mentally and physically.

Such a surprise did Mrs Langley receive the morning that followed the evening on which Achmet Dey and his Sultana held their private conversation on the affairs of state. "Agnes!" she exclaimed, reading a note with elevated eyebrows, "just fancy! here is an invitation for you and me to dine with the Dey's wife or wives!"

"Oh! _won't_ that be delightful?" cried Agnes, coming from the court into the room where her mother sat, with such a bound, that she filled with sympathetic excitement the heart of the small negro girl from beyond the Zahara, and caused her to rock the cradle too violently.

"There, you've bumped it again; I knew you would!" said Mrs Langley, in tones of despair.

Poor Zubby's first awful glance of mingled deprecation and self-reproach was so touching that no one but a hardened monster could have withstood it; but the look, with the feelings which it implied, was short-lived. It passed like a summer cloud, and was replaced by an expression of supreme contentment and self-satisfaction when it became apparent that Master Jim was _not_ going to awake, and that Mrs Langley's despair was vanishing. Indeed, that lady's despair was at all times remarkably short-lived. She had been trained in a school of dire adversity ever since the arrival of the coal-black one from beyond the Zahara, and had learned to hope against hope in an extraordinary degree in a case which was absolutely hopeless, for, whatever others might think or hope, Zubby knew herself to be incurable! Not that she was unwilling; on the contrary, there never was a more obliging or amiable creature among the sable daughters of Ham, but she had a tendency to forget herself, (as well as her charge), in moments of sudden emotion or delight, and gave way to burstlets of action, which, if slight, were always inopportune, and sometimes, though not often, disastrous.

"We must get ready immediately," continued Mrs Langley, with a cautioning shake of the head at Zubby, as she turned to Agnes; "because, you know, we may as well take the opportunity to do a little shopping before dinner."

"What! `shopping' in the pirate city?" we hear you exclaim, reader.

Yes, there _was_ shopping there in those days, though it did not bear much resemblance to shopping in more civilised lands. There were no wide fronts or plate-glass windows in those days. Indeed, then, as now, a shop in the Moorish town might be fitly described as a hole in the wall. It was, as it were, a deep window without an interior to speak of. A square hole, six feet by six, and from four to ten feet deep, without glazing or protection of any kind from the weather, except, in some cases, an awning, was a fair average shop; one of eight feet frontage was rather a "grand shop," and one of twelve feet was quite a "bazaar."

Of course such shops were stuffed, like eggs, to an excess of fulness. They gave one the impression that the goods had been packed into smaller space than was possible, and that the introduction of another pin would infallibly explode the whole affair. A passage among the goods in each shop, just big enough to admit an ordinary man, was the scene of action in which the owner disported. This passage did not begin at the street: so much valuable space could not be afforded. A counter laden with small wares had to be leapt in order to gain it, and a rope depending from the ceiling rendered possible the acrobatic feat which was necessary to do so. Purchasers had to stand in the streets and transact business, the said streets being so narrow that there was no room for lobbies or paved foot-paths. While engaged in traffic, buyers were compelled more or less to block the way, and had their garments scraped successively by Turks and Moors and veiled Mohammedan females, by Cabyles from the mountains, negroes from Timbuctoo, white slaves from almost every country in Europe, and donkeys of the most debased and abject type,--these latter, by the way, being quite as capable as the human--though not humane--beings who drove them of going up and down stairs. No slope short of a perpendicular dead wall appeared to be able to stop them, and no wonder, poor wretches! for no torture short of total destruction was spared them.

Ah! ye members of the "Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals" in Algiers, forgive us if we interject here the observation that there is earnest need for your activities at the present day!

Followed by the faithful though uncontrollable Zubby, with a huge triangular grass basket, Mrs Langley entered the tortuous streets of the city, and proceeded to "shop."

Fear not, reader! It is not our purpose to drag you through the details of the too well-known process. We pass onward to matters more important.

Having traversed several streets in which Moors sat cross-legged, embroidering purses and slippers with gold, in holes in the wall so small that a good-sized bust might have objected to occupy them; where cobblers, in similar niches, made and repaired round-toed shoes of morocco leather, and the makers of horn rings for fingers, wrists, arms and ankles wrought as deftly with their toes as with their fingers; where working silversmiths plied their trade in precious metals and gems in a free-and-easy open-air fashion that would have made the mouth of a London thief water; and where idle Arabs sipped coffee and smoked the live-long day, as though coffee and tobacco were the aim and end of life--which latter they proved indeed to many of them,--Mrs Langley with Agnes, followed by Zubby, paused before a niche in which were displayed for sale a variety of curious old trinkets of a nondescript and utterly useless character. In short, it appeared to be an Algerine curiosity-shop. Here, while bargaining with the owner for some small articles, she was surprised to hear a voice at her ear say in French--

"Madame, good morning; I have great pleasure in this unexpected meeting."

She turned hastily, and found the Danish consul standing by her side.

"Ah, monsieur," she said, returning his salutation, "it is indeed seldom that I wander alone through this labyrinth, but necessity compels me. An English friend wishes me to send her a few characteristic articles, and I can trust no one to choose them for me. But, you look anxious."

"Yes, excuse me," replied the Danish consul in haste, glancing round. "I am followed, persecuted I may say. I had intended to call for your husband to-day to beg him to use his influence with the Dey in my behalf, but I cannot--circumstances--in short, will you kindly mention to him that I am in trouble because of the non-payment of the tribute due by our Government, and--"

Breaking off suddenly, the Danish consul bowed low and hurried away. Mrs Langley observed that, immediately after, a chaouse, or executioner of the palace, passed her.

This incident induced her to conclude her shopping rather quickly, and furnished her with food for thought which entirely engrossed her mind until Agnes exclaimed--

"Oh mamma, look! look! they're going to shave a little boy!"

Mrs Langley, directed by Agnes's finger, looked and found that this was indeed true. A little boy, between eight and nine years of age, was seated in a barber's shop near them, with a towel about his neck, glancing timidly, yet confidently, in the face of an elderly man who advanced towards him with an open razor, as though about to cut his throat. As it turned out, however, neither throat nor chin were in danger of violation. It was the head that the barber attacked, and this he scraped quite bare, without the aid of soap, leaving only a tuft of hair on the top. This tuft, we have been informed, is meant as a handle by means of which the owner may, after death, be dragged up into heaven! but we rather incline to the belief that it is left for the purpose of keeping the red fez or skull-cap on the head.

Be this as it may, no sooner did the urchin behold Mrs Langley, than, casting aside the towel and ignoring the barber, he rushed out and exclaimed--in a compound of French, Arabic, and Lingua Franca, of which we give a free translation--

"Oh, missus, me massr, console Dansh, vants see ver moch your hosbund!"

"Thank you; I know it," replied Mrs Langley, giving the boy a small coin and a bright smile.

Quite satisfied that he had fulfilled his duty, the urchin returned to the barber and the lady proceeded to the palace.

Here she was received ceremoniously by the father of Ashweesha, Sidi Cadua, a mild, gentle-spirited, little old Turk, who would have made a very fine old English gentleman, but who was about as well fitted to be father-in-law to an Algerine Dey, and a man of position in the pirate city, as he was to be Prime Minister to the man in the moon.

Sidi Cadua conducted her to the seraglio, where she was heartily welcomed by the ladies, who expressed their delight at meeting her with girlish glee. Ashweesha laughingly said that she was glad to see Agnes had become a Mohammedan, on which Mrs Langley related what circumstances had caused the change, and the Sultana listened to the recital with tears of laughter running down her cheeks.

The English lady had naturally expected something gorgeous in the palace, but she was not prepared for the lavish display of wealth that met her eyes everywhere.

She found the Sultana and her six beautiful children in a room which, though not imposing in size, glittered with decoration. The ceiling and walls were rich with tessellated and arabesque work. The floor was covered with a carpet of cut velvet, with a pattern of the richest and most brightly-coloured flowers; and this carpet was strewn with costly jewels, which shone in the variegated light of the stained-glass windows above like glowing fire-flies. Around the walls were several recesses or niches, arched in the Moorish horse-shoe style. In one of these was a glass cabinet, on the shelves of which were some splendid articles of jewellery. In another recess hung a variety of swords and pistols, chiefly of Eastern manufacture, their handles and scabbards blazing with diamonds. Opposite to these stood a gilt four-post European bedstead, with four mattresses of gold brocade, and curtains of blue tiffany embroidered with gold sprigs. In fact, the apartment and its occupants were adorned with so much magnificence that the genie of Aladdin's famous lamp would not have improved it, for, although that remarkable personage might have brought unlimited treasure to its decoration, he would not have found a spare inch anywhere on which to bestow it!

The Sultana and her children were alone, with the exception of half-a-dozen beautiful Georgian slaves, and one or two negresses, who attended on them. Of course no gentlemen were present!

"My husband is very fond of yours," said Ashweesha, with a pleasant smile, leading her guests to a large cushion on the floor, and squatting them down beside her.

"It gratifies me much to hear you say so," replied Mrs Langley.

They spoke in a jargon of languages, and made up their deficiencies by signs, of which we dare not attempt a characteristic translation.

"He sent you a new slave-girl lately, I believe?" said the Sultana, beginning to feel her way.

"Yes," exclaimed the guest with animation, "it was _very_ kind of him; and I find her _so_ sweet and amiable, and useful too. She assists me with my dear baby so admirably, as well as with the household, that I begin already to feel as if I could not get on without her. Do you know I have set my heart on raising sufficient money to ransom her and set her free?"

"Then you will only lose her, for she will certainly go home to her husband," observed Ashweesha, with a look of simplicity.

"Of course; I count on that," returned Mrs Langley. "You know that we Christians differ from Mohammedans widely on the point of slavery; and I am sure," she added playfully, "you will not think me rude when I say that I mean to take advantage of your laws, and procure the ransom of as many slaves as possible during my residence here."

"If you had the wealth of a king," said Ashweesha, with a smile, "you could not ransom the half of them, they are so numerous."

"I am too well aware of that," rejoined the other sadly; "nevertheless, that does not exempt me from my duty. In the laws of my heavenly King and Saviour Jesus Christ it is written--`Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.'"

The Sultana bent a keen look of interest on her guest, and was about to reply, but seemed to change her mind, and said:--

"It was Sidi Hassan, I am told, who brought in this slave-girl; and, by the way, I hear that he has become your janissary. Do you like him?"

"I have seen so little of him that I can hardly tell.--You have walked with him in the garden, Agnes, several times; what do _you_ think of him?"

"I don't like him at _all_!" answered Agnes, with powerful emphasis.

Both ladies laughed, and so did the six little daughters of the Sultana, who had maintained a dignified silence while their elders were conversing.

"My little girl is rather given to take hasty prejudices," said Mrs Langley apologetically.

"Does your husband find him useful?" continued the Sultana, returning to the charge.

"No doubt he does, but I really cannot say, for my husband has only mentioned him casually, and I never venture to speak of his business affairs unless called on to do so. The fact that Sidi Hassan has been much oftener in town than at our residence since he was sent to us, may account for my slight knowledge about him."

"Oh! he has been very often in town, has he?" exclaimed Ashweesha.

Before Mrs Langley could reply, an attendant announced that dinner was served in the adjoining room, whereupon the Georgian slaves were ordered to pick up the jewels that strewed the carpet. This they did, and, having locked them in the glass cabinet before mentioned, followed the party into the dining-room.

It was a somewhat peculiar dinner in many respects. There was great variety. Meat, poultry, pastry, and sweatmeats of strange kinds and forms, succeeded each other, and were done full justice to by all present. It was like a glimpse of paradise to little Agnes; for, having been brought up in the simplest of styles, and forbidden pastry and sweatmeats altogether since the day of her birth, she absolutely revelled in new sensations.

It must not be supposed that she violently broke through all restraints on this occasion; but her mother saw that if old rules were enforced, the child would be confused by the conflicting entreaties of her hostesses and the denials of her mother, while the Sultana might be offended. Mrs Langley, therefore, gave her _carte-blanche_ to eat what she pleased.

The party all sat on embroidered cushions on the floor, round a small low table made of silver and mother-of-pearl. On this, each dish was placed separately; and all ate out of the same dish, after the Moorish fashion. The spoons were made of rosewood, tipped with amber, and the napkins were richly embroidered in gold, silver, and variously coloured silk on a curiously-wrought linen ground. All the vessels used were of the most elaborate and costly description, and we need scarcely add that the viands were good. Among other things there was fish, which was served and eaten with honey! but the chief among the dishes was kooskoos. This was the _piece de resistance_ of the Moorish dinner-table, the substance on which the ladies chiefly fed and flourished. To be fat was, in those days, the most desirable attribute of a wife in the eyes of an Algerine husband, therefore kooskoos was eaten in quantity. It was made largely of flour, rolled, in some mystical manner, into the form of little pellets, like small sago; this, boiled with butter and other fatty substances, with bits of meat and chicken, and other viands mixed through it,--the whole being slightly seasoned and spiced,--was deemed food fit for a Sultana.

During the meal they became very chatty, and the young people paid much attention to Agnes, who, being a sensitively good girl, felt, every time that she experienced a new taste, as though she were breaking all the Ten Commandments, notwithstanding the permission of her mother!

Several times Ashweesha turned the conversation on the home affairs of her guests, and attempted to gain further information about Sidi Hassan's doings, but found, much to her annoyance, that Mrs Langley knew little more than she had already communicated. Her good-humour was, however, restored by that lady's unaffected admiration of the numerous lovely things by which she was surrounded. She specially praised the splendid napkins and the spoons before referred to, and when they rose from table, the Sultana presented her and Agnes with those that they had used.

After giving them coffee and making another vain attempt to extract information, Ashweesha dismissed her guests, who returned home charmed with the novelty of their reception and entertainment.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

RELATES SOMETHING ABOUT IMPROVEMENTS, SURPRISES, AND CHANGES IN THE STATE OF AFFAIRS.

In consequence of the opportune interference of the British consul, and of the good-will which Lucien had inspired in the breast of the Dey, a ray of light stole into the gloomy Bagnio, and tended to cheer at least two of the slaves.

This ray was conveyed by means of the Padre Giovanni, whom we have elsewhere mentioned as being the friend and benefactor of the slaves.

Previous to his visit a cloud had overshadowed the prison. Several chaouses had entered, and, after loading Castello and the other runaways with chains, had led them forth to death. It would be painful as well as unnecessary to detail the terrible tortures under which these wretched men perished. The remaining slaves knew well the nature of the fate that awaited them, and the blank caused by the disappearance for ever of their well-known faces, was fitted to restrain all thoughts of rebellion, had such existed. Some surprise was felt at first by all the slaves at the delay of punishment in the case of Francisco and Mariano, but after the first hour or two had passed, they ceased to give the matter a thought.

When, therefore, the old man Giovanni entered the Bagnio and informed these two that the Dey had reprieved them, and commanded their attendance at the palace, their surprise was re-awakened, and speculation as to the cause of such unusual proceedings was revived.

"I am the bearer of still further tidings," said the old man, taking a letter from a sort of wallet that hung from his shoulder, and handing it to Francisco.

"From Juliet!" exclaimed Francisco, tearing it open and reading aloud eagerly:--

"`Dearest Father,--It is not possible to express to you the agony that we endured on hearing that you had been taken captive by the Algerines. Oh, why are such monsters allowed to live? ("Why, indeed!" interjected Francisco, bitterly.) But take comfort. God watches over us all. Some of your old friends here have begun to collect money for your ransom, and I work hard to increase the sum-- but oh! how slowly it grows! Even darling grandmamma has got some light sewing work which brings in a little. But our hearts mourn because of you. We earnestly hope that the pirates treat you well, ("Thank God they do not know anything about _that_," muttered Francisco), and we feel almost sure that they do, because we have been told that they are careful of the slaves who, they hope, will be ransomed. I have therefore written to the Dey--how I hated him while I wrote the humble letter!--telling him that we hoped to raise the sum in a short time. Every one here is very kind and sympathises with us, besides giving a contribution to the fund.

"`This letter goes by a French vessel which is to touch at Algiers, and which conveys a priest who has a large sum of money with him to ransom Sicilian and other slaves. I entreated him to ransom you with part of it, but he smiled pitifully, and said the money had been raised by the friends of particular slaves, some of whom had been many years in captivity, and that it could not be diverted from its proper objects. How my heart sank when he spoke of some being in slavery for many years! But it was cheered again when I reflected how hard we are all working to raise the money for you and Lucien and Mariano. We send you all our dear love.--Your affectionate daughter.

"Shall I have an opportunity of answering this?" asked Francisco, eagerly.

"Yes; I am about to conduct you to the palace, where your son Lucien-- who, I may mention, is a favourite--awaits you."

"You mustn't let them know the truth, father," said Mariano earnestly.

"Would you have him tell them what is false?" asked the Padre gravely.

"No, no," replied the youth, with a laugh, "but there is no occasion to mention all that we have suffered, you know; and there is a good deal--I mean a little--that is agreeable to communicate. For instance, this very summons to the palace, and Lucien's good luck."

"Trust me, lad," said Francisco; "I won't fail to cheer them if I can, and you may be sure I won't exaggerate our misfortunes.--But lead on, old man; I am anxious to get out of this foul den as quickly as--"

"Forgive me, comrades," he added, checking himself, and turning to the slaves near him; "I am grieved more than I can tell to leave you behind. If by remaining I could lighten your sorrows, I would gladly do so. It may seem presumptuous in one who is himself a slave to say so, yet I can't help assuring you that if the Almighty is pleased to give me any power in this city, I won't forget you."

This speech was received with a kindly nod by some, and a laugh of scorn by others.

Probably the latter had heard similar sentiments before from somewhat kindred and hearty spirits, and had learned from sad experience that nothing ever came of their good-will.

Following the old man, the father and son were soon in the presence of Lucien, who received them, as may well be believed, with a full heart.

"God bless you, my son," said Francisco, "for well assured am I that it is through your influence that we are here."

"It is through the influence of the British consul," replied Lucien.

"Well, I pray for a blessing on you both, for it is useless to tell me that _you_ have had no hand in it."

"I do not say that I had no hand in it. On the contrary, I wrote out the order for your acquittal; and," added Lucien, with a peculiar smile, "I also had previously written out your and Mariano's death-warrant!"

"You are jesting, lad," said Francisco.

"Indeed, I am not," returned Lucien, relating the circumstances of the whole matter to his astonished and somewhat horrified auditors.

"And now," he continued, "I must let you know your destination. Don't be disappointed. You must remember that we are slaves, and have just been delivered from the Bagnio. The Dey seems to have taken a fancy for me--"

"I don't wonder," interrupted Mariano enthusiastically, seizing and squeezing his brother's hand.

"And," continued Lucien, "he has permitted me to select situations for you. I have arranged that you, father, shall be my assistant in the secretary's office, and that you, Mariano, shall be shopman to Bacri the Jew."

Lucien looked awkwardly at his father and brother as he spoke, feeling uncertain, no doubt, as to the manner in which they would receive this information. He was therefore rather relieved than otherwise by a smile on the face of Mariano.

"Why, Lucien," he said, "I always thought you a great original, and this last display of your powers confirms me in my opinion. Not that I deem it strange your having appointed father your clerk--for, in the circumstances, it would have been charity to have appointed him even to the office of shoe-black--anything being better than the Bagnio,--but what wild fancy induced you to make _me_ shop-boy to a Jew?"

"That," replied Lucien, "you shall find out in good time--only, pray, remember that I am not the Dey's Grand Vizier, and have not many places to offer."

"Well, well, be it so," returned the other; "I am well content with what your wisdom provides."

"And so am I," said Francisco, cheerfully. "I suppose you will feed us better than we have been fed of late?"

"That will I, father, but there is no pay attached to your offices, for slaves, you know, get no wages."

"They get splendid habiliments, it would seem," observed Francisco, regarding his son with twinkling eyes. "But come, Lucien, I am all impatience to begin the work of under-secretary of state! You bear in remembrance, I trust, that I can read and write nothing save my mother tongue?"

"Yes; Italian will suffice, father; such of the duties as you fail to perform I can easily fulfil.--Now, Mariano," he said, taking his brother aside, and speaking in a low earnest tone, "see that you act wisely in the situation I have selected for you. The Jew is a kind, good man, despite what is said about his worship of Mammon. I would that all in this city were like him, for in that case we should have no slavery. During the short period I have held my office, my eyes have been opened to much that I may not mention. There, the very walls of this palace have ears! I have said enough. You remember Angela?"

"Remember her!" exclaimed Mariano, with a deep flush and a look of intense surprise, "how can you ask me, Lucien?"

"Well, you will hear of her from Bacri. Good bye--go!"

He rang a bell as he spoke, and ordered the slave who answered the summons to lead Mariano to the abode of Bacri; at the same time he took his father's hand and conducted him to his office or bureau.

Amazed at all that had happened, particularly at his summary dismissal by his brother, the youth followed his conductor in silence, and in a short time reached the iron-bolted door of the chief of the Jews.

"This is Bacri's house," said his guide in Italian, and, having discharged this duty, he turned on his heel, and abruptly left him.

Pausing a moment to think, and finding that the more he thought the less he seemed to be capable of thinking to any purpose, Mariano applied his knuckles to the door.

For a youth of his character it was a timid knock, and produced no result.

Mariano was one who--in peculiar circumstances, like those in which at that time he found himself--might once in a way act with timidity, but he was not the man to act so twice. Finding that the first knock was useless, he hit the door a blow that caused the old house to resound. In a few seconds it was opened slightly, and the face of a beautiful girl in Jewish costume appeared.

If Mariano had been suddenly petrified he could not have stood more rigidly motionless; amazement sat enthroned on his countenance.

"Angela!"

"Signor Mariano!"

The words in each case were followed by a deep flush, and Angela retreated.

Of course Mariano advanced.

"Excuse--forgive me, signorina," he exclaimed, taking her hand respectfully. "I did not know--of course I could not--how was it possible that--the fact is, I came to see a Jew, and--and--"

"I've found a jewel," he _might_ have said, but that didn't seem to occur to him!

"Bacri--that's his name!" continued Mariano. "Is Bacri within? I came to see him, but--"

"Yes--Signor Bacri is at home," said Angela, much confused by the youth's confusion, as well as by the sudden and unexpected nature of the meeting. "But your father--and brother Lucien--Oh, I hope they are well; that they have not been treated cruelly; that they are not in that dreadful Bagnio, of which I have heard so much," said Angela, at last finding the use of her tongue.

They were interrupted at this point by the appearance of Bacri himself, who welcomed the youth to his house, said that he had been told by Lucien to expect him, and introduced him to his wife and the other members of his family.

Thereafter the Jew took his new shopman into his private apartment, and made many strange revelations to him in regard to the affairs of the piratical city, as well as about the details of his new appointment, in regard to which we shall say nothing here; but it may be well to add that Mariano finally retired for the night well satisfied with the wisdom of his elder brother.

For some time after this, things went well with those actors in our tale in whose welfare we are chiefly interested.

Francisco proved himself to be an able clerk--when assisted by his superior!--and Mariano became a most willing and useful shopman--with the prospect before him of returning each night to bask in the sunshine of Angela's countenance!

At the consul's residence Paulina was as happy as was possible in her sad circumstances, for she became very fond of Mrs Langley, and was a perfect treasure in the house,--not only taking a large part of the management thereof, but keeping watchful guard over the dangerous Zubby, so that that Zaharan specimen of humanity inflicted a perceptibly smaller percentage of bumps on the head of Master Jim than in former times. Paulina's baby, too, began to indicate signs of intelligence by crowing, knocking over whatever it came within reach of, and endeavouring to dig the eyes out of every one who permitted familiarities, especially the eyes of Master Jim, who, it is but fair to add, soon displayed superior capacity in the same line, so that the parents agreed mutually that they would soon be sweet playmates to each other, and that they were the most delicious babes that ever were or could be born. Ted Flaggan also remained a happy inmate of the consul's abode, awaiting the arrival of a British vessel which might enable him to depart, but not at all anxious for that consummation, and, in the meantime, making himself generally useful.

Down at the Marina, too, the state of things was a little, though not much, improved. Another guardian of the slaves had been appointed,--the former one having been strangled on account of some wickedness reported by enemies to have been done by him, and of which he was afterwards found to be entirely innocent.

His successor was a man of better nature, who, although he kept the slaves hard at their toil, and did not abate the lash or bastinado, nevertheless supplied them with occasional comforts, such as an extra roll of bread when extra work had to be done, or even a glass of spirits when, as was often the case, they were called up at nights, in drenching rain and cold, to protect the shipping in the harbour, and prevent wreck, when sudden gales arose.

Thus the aspect of things in the pirate city, bad though it was, became a little brighter, and continued so for some time, until an event occurred which flung a darker cloud than usual over the ever changing scene.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE PLOT THICKENS, AND MARIANO'S FORBEARANCE AND COURAGE ARE TESTED.

When the commander-in-chief of cavalry condescended to pay a visit to a Jew, it was a sign that events of considerable importance were hovering in the air. The approach, therefore, of Sidi Hamet to the residence of Bacri one night, under cover of the darkness, was regarded by the Jew with feelings of misgiving, which caused his face to become suddenly very grave, as he looked through the little iron-bound hole, or window, which commanded a view of his court.

The Aga carried no light, although the laws ordained that all who moved about after night-fall should do so; but Bacri knew him as well by his outline and gait as if he had seen his face in the sunshine.

Descending the stair at once, the Jew opened the door and let him in.

"Thou art surprised, Bacri?" said Hamet, swaggering into the skiffa, where Angela chanced to be at work at the time.--"Ha! thou hast a pretty daughter," he added, with a gaze of insolent admiration.