The tachorbadji knows this very well, and therefore is he sorrowful
and dejected. Should the young man persist, he must therefore
unwillingly allow him to carry out his purpose. He sits there on the
divan, tortured with doubt and apprehension. Will Mohammed relent?
Will Osman succeed in softening his heart?
At this moment the door opens, and a veiled woman enters the room.
She advances with light and noiseless footstep, and kneels down
before the tschorbadji.
"O master, be merciful to your servant! Sheik Alepp's daughter
kneels before you ! Incline your heart to mercy, and give back to me
my father!"
"Gladly would I do so, were it in my power," sighed he. I swear it
by Allah! But I have pledged my word to the young man to whom I gave
authority to act in the name of the law, that he should have
unlimited power to do as he should deem proper in the matter. I can
therefore do nothing, though I would gladly liberate your father and
abandon the collection of the tax."
"O master, I do not ask you to give up the tax! You shall have all
you have commanded us to pay."
"You are prepared to pay it?" exclaimed the tschorbadji, joyously.
"Then our trouble is at an end. But pray why are you, the daughter
of the noble, worthy sheik, here?"
"I have come, O master, because I have an act of mercy to implore at
your hands. The men of Praousta are really not able to pay two
hundred sequins, but what they lack in money I have in money's
worth.
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