By Allah, it is impossible, we cannot do it."
"No, it is impossible; we cannot do it," cried the rest, in a chorus
of lamentation.
"Then you are ready to let my father die--to become the murderers of
our ulemas," cried Masa, falling on her knees, and stretching out
her arms imploringly. "Oh, be merciful to yourselves, for I tell you
the evil spirits will obtain power over you, if you do not abandon
your cruel intention. I tell you, misery will be your portion, if
you allow your noblest men to be murdered for the sake of vile
money."
"And we tell you, Masa, that we cannot pay," cried the men, in
defiant, despairing tones. "We repeat, and call Allah to witness, we
have not the money they demand of us."
"You have not this money? But if you had it, would you then pay?
Would you bend your heads to save the heads of our noblest men?
Would you go to the tschorbadji and say--Here is the double tax. You
do us injustice, yet we humble ourselves in order to save the lives
of our sheik and the ulemas!' Say, would you do this?"
The people made no reply, but cast sorrowful glances at each other,
and whispered among themselves
"The sheik would not forgive us; he gave strict orders that we
should not pay."
"But his life, and the lives of the ulemas are at stake," murmured
one of them.
"Yes, his life is at stake!" cried Masa, who had heard this.
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