"
"It is well," said the sheik, softly. "Let my child rest, let my
Masa sleep; tread lightly, and be careful that you do not disturb
her. I, too, feel that I need sleep. Let the whole house repose, and
avoid making any noise before tomorrow morning. Then I will come to
her room to see her."
The old man took off his shoes and noiselessly descended the
stairway to his bed-chamber. It was now still in the house. All
Praousta was silent. The people were resting from the pleasures of
today, and the anxiety and care of yesterday.
In Cavalla, also, all was now quiet. The windows of the
tschorbadji's palace were dark, and silence prevailed everywhere.
The governor and his son Osman had retired to rest.
In the apartments occupied by Cousrouf Pacha darkness also prevails,
and in the harem the blinds have been let down behind the latticed
windows. One room alone is dimly lighted. On the table stands a
silver lamp, which sheds a faint light through the spacious room,
upon the gold-embroidered caftan of the pacba, and upon his proud,
gloomy countenance. He rises from his seat, and walks hastily
through the room. He then suddenly stands still. The pacha waits the
arrival of the girl he has purchased with the blood-money given for
her father.
All is quiet in the tschorbadji's palace, and also in the sheik's
house. The windows are dark, the gate is locked.
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