THE MARGARET ISLAND.
On the Margaret island, in the bosom of the blue Danube, was the
paradise of Hassan Pasha, and to behold its treasures was death. At
every interval of twenty yards stands a eunuch behind the groves of the
island with a long musket, and if any man fares upon the water within
bullet-reach, he certainly will never tell anyone what he saw.
Paradise exhales every intoxicating joy, every transient delight; it is
full of flowers, and no sooner does one flower bloom than another
instantly fades away; and this also is the fate of those flowers which
are called damsels, for some of these likewise fade in a day, whilst
others are culled to adorn the table of the favourite. This, I say, is
the fate of all the flowers, and frequently in those huge porcelain
vases which stand before Azrael's bed, among its wreaths of roses and
pomegranate flowers, one may see the head of an odalisk with drooping
eyes who yesterday was as bright and merry as her comrades, the rose and
pomegranate blossoms.
Oh, that woman is a veritable dream! Since he possessed her Hassan Pasha
is no longer a man, but a piece of wax which receives the impression of
her ideas. He hears nothing but her voice, and sees nothing but her.
Already they are beginning to say that Hassan Pasha no longer recognizes
a man ten feet off, and is no longer able to distinguish between the
sound of the drum and the sound of the trumpet. And it is true, but
whoever said so aloud would be jeopardizing his head, for Hassan would
conceal his failings for fear of being deprived of the command of the
army if they became generally known.
All the better does Yffim Beg see and hear, Yffim Beg who is constantly
about Azrael; if he were not such an old and faithful favourite of
Hassan Pasha he might almost regret that he has such good eyes and ears.
But Azrael's penetrating mind knows well enough that Yffim Beg's head
stands much more firmly on his shoulders than stand the heads of those
whom Hassan Pasha sacrifices to her whims, so she flatters him, and it
is all the worse for him that she does flatter.
Hassan Pasha, scarce waiting for the day to end and dismissing all
serious business, sat him down in his curtained pinnace, known only to
the dwellers on the fairy island, and had himself rowed across to his
hidden paradise, where, amidst two hundred attendant damsels, Azrael,
the loveliest of the living, awaits him in the hall of the fairy kiosk,
round whose golden trellis work twine the blooms of a foreign sky.
Yffim Beg alone accompanies the Pasha thither.
The Governor, after embracing the odalisk, strolled thoughtfully through
the labyrinth of fragrant trees where the paths were covered by coloured
pebbles and a whole army of domesticated birds made their nests in the
trees. Yffim Beg follows them at a little distance, and not a movement
escapes his keen eyes, not so much as a sigh eludes his sharp ears; he
keeps a strict watch on all that Azrael does and says.
In the midst of their walk--they hadn't gone a hundred paces--a falcon
rose before them from among the trees and perched on a poplar close by.
"Look, sir, what a beautiful falcon!" cried Yffim Beg.
Azrael laughed aloud and looked back.
"Oh, my good Beg, how canst thou take a wood-pigeon for a falcon? why it
_was_ a wood-pigeon."
"I took good note of it, Azrael, and there it is sitting on that
poplar."
"Why, that's better still--now he calls a nut-tree a poplar. Eh, eh!
worthy Beg, thou must needs have been drinking a little to see so
badly."
"Well, that was what I fancied," said the Beg, much perplexed, and for
the life of him not perceiving the point of the jest. Why should the
odalisk make a fool of him so?
"But look then, my love," said Azrael, appealing to the Pasha; "thou
didst see that bird fly away from the tree yonder, was it not a
wood-pigeon flying from a nut-tree?"
Hassan saw neither the tree nor the bird, but he pretended he did, and
agreed with the odalisk.
"Of course it was a wood-pigeon and a nut-tree."
Yffim Beg did not understand it at all.
They went on further, and presently Yffim Beg again spoke.
"Shall we not turn, my master, towards that beautiful arcade of
rose-trees?"
Azrael clapped her hands together in amazement.
"What! an arcade of roses! Where is it?"
"Turn in that direction and thou wilt see it."
"These things! Why if he isn't taking some sumach trees full of berries
for an arcade of rose-trees!"
Hassan Pasha laughed. As for Yffim Beg he was lost in amazement--why did
this damsel choose to jest with him in this fashion?
At that moment a cannon shot resounded from the Pesth shore.
"Ah!" said the Pasha, stopping, "a cannon shot!"
"Yes, my master," said Yffim, "from the direction of Pesth."
"From Pesth indeed," said Azrael, "it was from Buda; it was the signal
for closing the gate."
"I heard it plainly."
"Excuse me, my good Beg, but thy hearing is as bad as thy sight. I am
beginning to be anxious about thee. How could it be from the direction
of Pesth when the whole camp has crossed over to Buda?"
"Maybe a fresh host has arrived, which now awaits us."
"Come," cried Azrael, seizing Hassan's hand, "we will find out at once
who is right;" and she hastened with them to the shore of the island.
On the further bank the camp of Feriz Beg was visible; they were just
pitching their tents on the side of the hills. A company of cavalry was
just going down to the water's-edge, at whose head ambled a slim young
man whose features were immediately recognised, even at that distance,
both by the favourite Beg and the favourite damsel.
Only Hassan saw nothing; in the distance everything was to him but a
blur of black and yellow.
"Well, what did I say?" exclaimed Yffim Beg triumphantly; "that is the
camp of Feriz Beg, and there is Feriz himself trotting in front of
them."
The words were scarce out of his mouth when the terrible thought
occurred to him that Azrael had no business to be looking upon this
strange man.
The odalisk, laughing loudly, flung herself on Hassan's neck.
"Ha, ha, ha! the worthy Beg takes the water-carrying girls for an army!"
Then Yffim Beg began to tremble, for he perceived now whither this woman
wanted to carry her joke.
"My master," said he, "forbid thy slave-girl to make a fool of me. The
camp of Feriz Beg is straight in front of us, and thou wilt do well to
prevent thy maid-servant from looking at these men with her face
unveiled."
"Allah! thou dost terrify me, good Beg!" said Azrael, feigning horror so
admirably that Hassan himself felt the contagion of it.
"Say! where dost thou see this camp?"
"There, on the water-side; dost thou not see the tents on the
hillocks?"
"Surely it is the linen which these girls are bleaching."
"And that blare of trumpets?"
"I only hear the merry songs that the girls are singing."
In his fury Yffim Beg plucked at his beard.
"My master, this devilish damsel is only mocking us."
"Thou art suffering from deliriums," said Azrael, with a terrible face,
"or thou art under a spell which makes thee see before thee things which
exist not. Contradict me not, I beg; this hath happened to thee once
before. Dost thou not remember when thou fleddest from Transylvania how,
then also, thou didst maintain that the enemy was everywhere close upon
thy heels! Thou also then wert under the spell of a hideous enchantment,
for thy eunuch horseman who remained behind at Nagyenyed, and is now a
sentinel on this island, hath told me that there was no sign of any
enemy for more than twenty leagues around, and he remained waiting for
thee for ten days and fancied thou wert mad. Most assuredly some evil
sorcery made thee fly before an imaginary enemy without thy turban or
tunic."
Yffim Beg grew pale. He felt that he must surrender unconditionally to
this infernal woman.
"Was it so, Yffim?" cried Hassan angrily.
"Pardon him, my lord," said Azrael soothingly; "he was under a spell
then, as he is now. Thou art bewitched, my good Yffim."
"Really, I believe I am," he stammered involuntarily.
"But I will turn away the enchantment," said the damsel; and tripping
down to the water's-edge she moistened her hand and sprinkled the face
of the Beg, murmuring to herself at the same time some magic spell. "Now
look and see!"
The Beg did all that he was bidden to do.
"Who, then, are these walking on the bank of the Danube?"
"Young girls," stammered the Beg.
"And those things spread out yonder."
"Wet linen."
"Dost thou not hear the songs of the girls?"
"Certainly I do."
"Look now, my master, what wonders there are beneath the sun!" said
Azrael, turning towards Hassan Pasha; "is it not marvellous that Yffim
should see armies when there is nothing but pretty peasant girls?"
"Miracles proceed from Allah, but methinks Yffim Beg must have very bad
sight to mistake maidens for men of war."
Yffim Beg durst not say to Hassan Pasha that he also had bad sight; he
might just as well have pronounced his own death sentence at once.
Hassan wanted to pretend to see all that his favourite damsel pointed
out, and she proceeded to befool the pair of them most audaciously in
the intimate persuasion that Hassan would not betray the fact that he
could not see, while Yffim Beg was afraid to contradict lest he should
be saddled with that plaguy Transylvanian business.
Meanwhile, on the opposite bank, Feriz Beg in a sonorous voice was
distributing his orders and making his tired battalions rest, galloping
the while an Arab steed along the banks of the Danube. The odalisk
followed every movement of the young hero with burning eyes.
"I love to hear the songs of these damsels; dost not thou also, my
master?" she inquired of Hassan.
"Oh, I do," he answered hastily.
"Wilt thou not sit down beside me here on the soft grass of the river
bank?"
The Pasha sat down beside the odalisk, who, lying half in his bosom,
with her arm round his neck, followed continually the movements of Feriz
with sparkling eyes.
"Look, my master!" said she, pointing him out to Hassan; "look at that
slim, gentle damsel, prominent among all the others, walking on the
river's bank. Her eyes sparkle towards us like fire, her figure is
lovelier than a slender flower. Ah! now she turns towards us! What a
splendid, beauteous shape! Never have I seen anything so lovely. Why may
I not embrace her--like a sister--why may I not say to her, as I say to
thee, 'I love thee, I live and die for thee?'"
And with these words the odalisk pressed Hassan to her bosom, covering
his face with kisses at every word; and he, beside himself with rapture,
saw everything which the girl told him of, never suspecting that those
kisses, those embraces, were not for him but for a youth to whom his
favourite damsel openly confessed her love beneath his very eyes!
And Yffim Beg, amazed, confounded, stood behind them, and shaking his
head, bethought him of the words of Haji Baba, "Cast forth that devil,
and beware lest she give you away!"