Later in the day the gate keeper at Phranza's mansion put into
Morsinia's hand a letter left with him by an Italian laboring man. It
was addressed--"To the Albanian lady," and read thus:
"Your brother's life is threatened by some secret enemy. Let him
exercise an Albanian's caution! This is the advice of a stranger."
A little before this, as the "poor Italian" was moving away from the
gate of Phranza, a gorgeous palanquin, with silken canopy and sides
latticed with silver rods, was borne in by four stout and well-formed
men, with bare legs and arms, purple short trousers, embroidered
jackets, and jaunty red caps, whose long tassels hung far down their
backs.
The "Italian" stepped into an angle that the palanquin might pass; and
stood gazing a long time after it had disappeared. At length, turning
away, he said to himself:
"Strange! It must be that my imagination has been disturbed by the
scenes of last night. But the lady in yonder palanquin is my dream
made real. The pretty face of the child with whom I once played on the
mountains must have cut its outlines somewhere on my brain, for I seem
to see it everywhere. My captive in the mountains of Albania had the
same features--though I saw them only under the flash of a torch.
Imagination that, surely! The girl at Sfetigrade was similar. And now
this one! The aga's advice to beware female illusions was good. But
she may be the Albanian lady after all. Impossible! Stupidity! Perhaps
my chosen houri in paradise is only flashing her beauty upon my soul
from these fair earthly faces, and so training me first to love her as
an ideal, that the joy of the realization may be perfect. But, tut!
tut! silly boy that I am!"
Whistling monotonously he turned down a street.
A short, crooked-necked officer passed along. His face at the moment
was the picture of dissatisfaction. The "Italian" stopped him, and,
with a courtesy which belied his common apparel, addressed him:--
"Captain Urban of the engineers, is it not?"
"And who are you?" was the surly, yet half respectful, reply, as the
one addressed glanced into the other's face.
"One who knows that the cannon you are casting are not heavy enough to
lodge a ball against the old tower of Galata yonder across the Golden
Horn, much less breach a fortification; and further, that all you can
cast at this rate from now until the Turks take Byzantium would not
enable you to throw ten shot an hour."
"By the brass toe of St. Peter! man, I was just saying the same thing
to myself," replied Urban.
"And the Emperor's treasury, when he has bought himself a wife, will
not have enough left to buy saltpetre with which to fire the guns, if
he should allow you brass enough for the casting," added the stranger.
"True again, my man; and the Emperor's service in the meantime does
not yield stipend enough for an officer to live upon decently. If you
were better dressed, my prince of lazaroni, I couldn't afford to ask
you to drink with me; but this cheap shop will shame neither your
looks nor my purse. Come in."
"Who are you, my good fellow?" asked Urban, as he drained a cup of
mastic-flavored wine. "Were not your voice different, and your
pronunciation of Greek rather provincial, with a slight Servian
brogue, I would take you for one of our young engineers. You are not
an Italian, spite of your garb."
"No," was the reply, "I was once in the employ of the Despot of
Servia, engineer and artillery-man; but I think of entering the
service of the Sultan. He pays finely, and gives one who loves the
science of war a chance to use his genius."
"For such a chance and good pay I would serve the devil," said Urban.
"The Greek emperor here is no saint, and yet I have served him for a
crust. I am not bound to him by any tie. If you find good quarters
with the Turks, give me a hint, and I will join you."
The stranger eyed him closely as he said this, and replied in low
tones--"Captain Urban, I am a Moslem; Captain Ballaban of the Janizary
corps. And I bear you a commission from the Padishah. To seek you is a
part of my business in Constantinople. I do not ask you to take my
word for this, but if you will accompany me, I will give you proof of
my authority. A thousand ducats I will put into your hand within an
hour, with which you may taste the Padishah's liberality and imagine
what it shall be when you accompany me to Adrianople."
The two men left the wine shop together and entered a bazaar. The
stranger whispered to the merchant who was nearly buried amid huge
piles of goods of every antique description; strange patterned
tapestries, rugs of all hues and sizes, ebony boxes inlaid with silver
and ivory, shields bossed and graven, spear-heads, cimeters and
daggers. The salesman made as low a salâm as his crowding wares would
permit, and, opening a way through the heaps of merchandise, conducted
the visitors into an inner room.