the feast by an orgy worthy of himself.  He caused the galleries and halls of his castle by the lake to be decorated with unheard-of splendour, and fifteen hundred guests assembled for a solemn banquet.  The pacha appeared in all his glory, surrounded by his noble attendants and courtiers, and seating himself on a dais raised above this base crowd which trembled at his glance, gave the signal to begin.  At his voice, vice plunged into its most shameless diversions, and the wine-steeped wings of debauchery outspread themselves over the feast.  All tongues were at their freest, all imaginations ran wild, all evil passions were at their height, when suddenly the noise ceased, and the guests clung together in terror.  A man stood at the entrance of the hall, pale, disordered, and wild-eyed, clothed in torn and blood-stained garments.  As everyone made way at his approach, he easily reached the pacha, and prostrating himself at his feet, presented a letter.  Ali opened and rapidly perused it; his lips trembled, his eyebrows met in a terrible frown, the muscles of his forehead contracted alarmingly.  He vainly endeavoured to smile and to look as if nothing had happened, his agitation betrayed him, and he was obliged to retire, after desiring a herald to announce that he wished the banquet to continue.

Now for the subject of the message, and the cause of the dismay it produced.

CHAPTER VI

Ali had long cherished a violent passion for Zobeide, the wife of his son Veli Pacha.  Having vainly attempted to gratify it after his son’s departure, and being indignantly repulsed, he had recourse to drugs, and the unhappy Zobeide remained in ignorance of her misfortune until she found she was pregnant.  Then, half-avowals from her women, compelled to obey the pacha from fear of death, mixed with confused memories of her own, revealed the whole terrible truth.  Not knowing in her despair which way to turn, she wrote to Ali, entreating him to visit the harem.  As head of the family, he had a right to enter, being supposed responsible for the conduct of his sons’ families, no-law-giver having hitherto contemplated the possibility of so disgraceful a crime.  When he appeared, Zobeide flung herself at his feet, speechless with grief.  Ali acknowledged his guilt, pleaded the violence of his passion, wept with his victim, and entreating her to control herself and keep silence, promised that all should be made right.  Neither the prayers nor tears of Zobeide could induce him to give up the intention of effacing the traces of his first crime by a second even more horrible.

But the story was already whispered abroad, and Pacho Bey learnt all its details from the spies he kept in Janina.  Delighted at the prospect of avenging himself on the father, he hastened with his news to the son.  Veli Pacha, furious, vowed vengeance, and demanded Pacho Bey’s help, which was readily promised.  But Ali had been warned, and was not a man to be taken unawares.  Pacho Bey, whom Veli had just promoted to the office of sword-bearer, was attacked in broad daylight by six emissaries sent from Janina.  He obtained timely help, however, and five of the assassins, taken red-handed, were at once hung without ceremony in the market-place.  The sixth was the messenger whose arrival with the news had caused such dismay at Ali’s banquet.