THE ELOPEMENT.
The palace of the old Bey, Zillah's father, was one of those gilded,
pagoda-like buildings, which, in any other climate or any other spot
in the wide world, would have looked foolish, from its profusion of
latticed external ornaments, and the filagree work that covered
every angle and point, more after the fashion of a child's toy than
the work most appropriate for a dwelling house. But here, on the
banks of the Bosphorus, in sight of Constantinople, and within the
dominion of that oriental people, it was appropriate in every
belonging, and seemed just what a Turkish palace should be.
The building extended so over the water that its owner could drop at
once into his caique and be pulled to almost any part of the city,
and, like all the people who live along the river's banks, he was
much on its surface. Coiled away, a la Turk, with his pipe well
supplied, a pull either to the Black Sea, or that of Marmora, with a
dozen stout oarsmen, was a delightful way of passing an afternoon,
returning as the twilight hour settled over the scene.
It was perhaps a week subsequent to the time when Selim and Zillah
met at the Bey's house, availing himself of the liberty so fully
extended by her father, Selim, in his disguise as a Jew, again
appeared at the palace gate, where he was received with a request
and consideration that showed to him he was expected, and at his
request he was conducted to the Bey's presence, and by him, again to
the apartment where his daughter was reposing.--The pretended Jew
followed his guide with the most profound sobriety, handling sundry
vials and jars he had brought with him, and upon which the Bey
looked with not a little interest and respect, as he strove to
decipher the cabalistic lines on each.
"Have you found any improvement in the malady that affects your
child?" asked the Jew, pouring a part of the contents of one vial
into another, and holding it up against the light, exhibiting a
phosphorescent action in the vial.
"By the beard of the prophet, yes; a marked and potent change has
your wonderful medicines produced. But what use do you make of that
strange compound that looks like liquid fire?"
"'Tis a strange compound," answered the other, seeming to regard the
mixture with profound interest; "very strange. Perhaps you would
hardly believe it, but the contents of that vial cast into the
Bosphorus, would kill every fish below your latticed windows to the
Dardanelles."
"Allah Akbar!" exclaimed the credulous Turk, holding up both hands.
"And this medicine, so powerful, do you intend for one so delicate
as she?" he asked, pointing to Zillah, who was reclining upon a pile
of cushions.
"I do; but with that judicious, care that forms the art of our
profession. So peculiar is the means that I shall operate with
to-night, that should it harm her, it would equally affect me. But I
have studied her case well, and you will find when yonder fair moon
now rising from behind the hills of Scutari shall sink again to
rest, your daughter will be well."
"Then will I stop and watch the wonderful operation of thy drugs."
"Nay, they must be applied in the open air and beneath the moon's
rays, with none to observe, save the stars."
"Then may the Prophet protect you. I will leave my child in your
care. Shall I do this, Zillah?"
"Father, yes, with thy blessing first," said the fair girl; for well
she knew, that the medicine which was to cure her, would carry her
away from his side and her childhood home, perhaps forever.
The Bey pressed his lips to her forehead, and with a curious glance
at the strange jars and vials, which the pretended Jew had
displayed, he turned away and left them together.
"Ah, dearest Zillah," said Selim, as soon as he found himself alone
with her he loved, "all is prepared as I promised thee, and at
midnight we will leave this palace forever."
"Alas! dear Selim, my heart is ever with thee, but it is very sad to
turn away from these scenes among which I have grown up from
infancy; but full well I know I can never be thine otherwise."
"In time your father will be reconciled to us both, Zillah, and then
we may return again," said the disguised lover, striving to
re-assure the gentle girl, whose heart almost failed her.
"But what a fearful risk you incur even now," she said; "your
disguise once discovered, Selim, and to-morrow's sun would never
shine upon you; your life would be forfeited."
"Fear not for me, dearest. I am well versed in the part I am to
play. But come, it is already time for us to walk forth in the
moonlight. Clothe thyself thoughtfully, Zillah, for your dress must
be such as will suffice you for many days, since we must fly far
away over the sea, beyond the reach of pursuit."
"I will be thoughtful," answered the gentle girl, retiring a few
moments from his side.
They wandered on among the fairy-like scenes of the garden, where
the trees overhung the Bosphorus, repeating once more the story of
their love, and renewing those oft-repeated promises of eternal
fidelity, until nearly midnight, when Selim suddenly started as he
heard the low, muffled sound of oars. He paused but for a moment,
then hastily seizing upon Zillah's arm, he urged her to follow him
quickly to the water's edge. Throwing a heavy, long military cloak
about her, he completely screened her from all eyes, and placing her
in the stern of the boat that came for him, with a wave of the hand
he bade his men give way, while he steered the caique towards a
craft that lay up the river towards the city, and soon disappeared
among the forest of masts and shipping that lay at anchor off
Seraglio Point.
They had made good their escape at least for the present, and were
safe on board the ship commanded by Captain Selim. The very boldness
of his scheme would prevent him from being discovered, and neither
feared that the ship of the Sultan would be searched at any event,
to find the lost daughter of the old Bey.
On the subsequent day the old Bey summoned his royal master to
assist him to find his child. The Armenian doctor, who recommended
the pretended Jew, was called upon to explain matters, but, to the
astonishment of the Turk, he denied in toto any knowledge of what he
referred to, declared before the Sultan that he had neither offered
to send any one to the Bey's house, nor had he done so, nor did he
know a single Jewish leech in the capital.
Confounded at such a flat contradiction, and having not the least
evidence to rebut it, the Turk was obliged to withdraw from the
royal presence discomfited, while the Armenian doctor retired to his
own dwelling, comforting himself, in the first place, if he had
uttered a falsehood it was in a good cause; and next, that he held
it no crime to deceive or to cheat an infidel, and ever one knows
how little love exists between the Turks and Armenians, at
Constantinople.
The truth was that the Armenian had long known Selim, had taught him
his religion, and, had instructed him much at various times in such
matters as it behooved him to know, and which had placed him at an
early age far above many others in the service, who had all sorts of
favoritism to advance their interests. He knew of Selim's love for
the old Bey's daughter, and when chance led the father to consult
him about his child, the idea of sending Selim to his house, as he
succeeded in doing, flashed across his mind, and he proposed it to
the father, as we have seen.
Selim's Armenian friend repaired on board his vessel as soon as he
was released from the presence of the Sultan, upon the inquiry to
which we have alluded. It would have gone hard with him had it not
been that his skill in his profession had long since recommended him
to the Sultan, in whose household he frequently appeared. Selim
greeted him kindly, and told him he was indebted to him for his
future happiness in life.
"We have been so successful in this plan," said the Armenian, "that
I have half a mind to try one of a similar, but far bolder
character, if you will assist me."
"With all my heart. What is it you propose?" asked Captain Selim.
"In my visits to the Sultan's harem, I have more than once been
brought--"
"Is the attempt to be made upon the Sultan's harem?" interrupted
Selim.
"Be patient and hear my story."
"I will, but this must be a bold business."
"I say, in my visits to the Sultan's household, I have often been
brought in contact with one whom I know to be very unhappy, and who
is detained there against her will. She is queen, I think, not only
of the harem, but also of its master's heart, her beauty and bearing
being of surpassing loveliness. Her history, too, as far as I can
learn, is one of romantic interest, and she pines to return to her
home in Circassia, from whence she was violently torn. At first when
she came here, I was called upon to treat her case, for she had
lately recovered from some severe sickness, and I then saw how
tenderly the Sultan regarded her. Well, at that time she was both
deaf and dumb, but--"
"Hold! do you say she was deaf and dumb?" asked Selim, as if he
recalled some memory of the past.
"I did."
"Strange," mused the officer; "it must be the slave that I bid for
in the market."
And so indeed it was the same beautiful being who had so earnestly
attracted him, as the reader will remember, when the Sultan's agent,
Mustapha, overbid him in the bazaar.
"You know her then?" asked the Armenian.
"I think so; but go on."
"Well, I am satisfied that she pines to be released, and from
hearing her story, and tending her in a short illness, I have become
deeply interested in her. You know, Selim, that I hate the Turks in
my heart, and if I can by any means rob the Sultan of this girl, and
restore her to her home, I would risk much to do so."
"The very idea looks to me like an impossibility," answered the
young officer.
"Nothing is impossible where will and energy combine."
"What is your plan?"
"You have resolved to fly from here, you tell me at least, by
to-morrow night."
"Yes. I have purchased that skimmer of the waters, the Petrel, and I
shall sail at that time with Zillah, for the Russian coast, or
Trebizond on the south of the Black Sea."
"Very good; now why not take this gentle slave of the Sultan's along
with you?"
"But how to get possession of her? that's the question," answered
Selim.
"You know I have free access to the palace, and could easily inform
her of any plan for her release."
"One half of the trouble is over then at once, if she will second
your efforts."
"Well, I will visit the harem this very day. I have good excuse for
doing so, and will tell Komel--"
"Komel!" interrupted Selim.
"Yes, that it the slave's name; why, what makes you look so
thoughtful?"
"I do not know," said Selim; "the name sounded familiar to me at
first, but go on."
"Well, I will tell her what is proposed, and get her advice as to
any mode that she may think best to adopt in regard to her
escaping."
"But do you think she would prefer to go with me to an uncertain
home, to the luxury she enjoys?"
"Of course you will take her to her home on the Circassian coast.
That must be the understanding, and I will remunerate you for the
extra trouble and expense."
"Never!" said the officer, honestly. "These Turks have paid me well
for my services, and I have already a purse heavy with gold, after
purchasing the Petrel, and if need be, I can make her pay."
"Have it as you will; it matters not to me, so that she reaches her
home, and the Turk is foiled."
"I am a rover myself, and the Circassian coast would suit me quite
as well as any other for a season. From whence does she come?"
"Anapa."
"Anapa? that shall be my destination," said Selim, at once.
"Hark! what is that?" asked the physician, turning to the back part
of the cabin.
"Nothing, but a young friend of mine; he's asleep, I think."
"Asleep; why he's moving, and must have overheard us, I am sure."
"No fear."
"But what we have said is no more nor less than downright treason."
"That's true."
"And would cost us both our heads if it should be reported."
"He wont report it if he has heard it; he bears the Sultan no
good-will, I can assure you, for it is only a day or two since that
he was sentenced to death by him for some trivial cause."
"What was it?" asked the Armenian.
"Getting a peep at some of his favorites, I believe, or some such
affair."
"Do you remember his name?" asked the Armenian, as the subject of
this conversation came out of one of the state-rooms in the cabin,
and approached them.
"Yes; he is a Circassian, named Aphiz Adegah!"