"I call it being
dragged here in a disgraceful manner!"
"Compose yourself, Sitta Nefysseh; let us converse calmly. I have
grave reproaches to make."
"Against me?" asked she, in astonishment.
"Yes, serious, grave reproaches! You are of the opinion, are you
not, that every mistress is responsible for the actions of her
servants?"
"I am, because, if one has bad and faithless servants, he should
discharge them. Yes, it seems to me a master is responsible for his
servants' actions."
"And therefore, have I summoned you to this audience. Do you know
what your kachef Youssouf has done?"
Sitta Nefysseh trembled. It was fortunate that her veil concealed
her features, and that Cousrouf could not see the deathly pallor
that overspread her cheeks.
"My kachef?" said she, with forced composure. "Of what is he
accused?"
"He is accused of attempting to bribe my soldiers, and incite them
to revolt and treason."
"That is not true!" exclaimed she, passionately. "That is a
falsehood, and I tell you so to your face! My words are true. My
kachef has never done such things; he is incapable of inciting any
one to a breach of faith or to treason. He is the truest and best of
my servants."
"And yet it is true. Your kachef has incited my soldiers to treason.
The viceroy says it is true!" cried Cousrouf. "Youssouf attempted to
corrupt one of my own soldiers, an Armenian, urging him to go over
to Osman Bardissi.
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