expedition.

Scarcely had he started before his wives complained to Ali that
Euphrosyne usurped their rights and caused their husband to neglect
them. Ali, who complained greatly of his sons' extravagance, and
regretted the money they squandered, at once struck a blow which was
both to enrich himself and increase the terror of his name.

One night he appeared by torchlight, accompanied by his guards, at
Euphrosyne's house. Knowing his cruelty and avarice, she sought to
disarm one by gratifying the other: she collected her money and jewels
and laid them at Ali's feet with a look of supplication.

"These things are only my own property, which you restore," said he,
taking possession of the rich offering. "Can you give back the heart of
Mouktar, which you have stolen?"

Euphrosyne besought him by his paternal feelings, for the sake of his
son whose love had been her misfortune and was now her only crime, to
spare a mother whose conduct had been otherwise irreproachable. But her
tears and pleadings produced no effect on Ali, who ordered her to be
taken, loaded with fetters and covered with a piece of sackcloth, to the
prison of the seraglio.

If it were certain that there was no hope for the unhappy Euphrosyne,
one trusted that she might at least be the only victim. But Ali,
professing to follow the advice of some severe reformers who wished
to restore decent morality, arrested at the same time fifteen ladies
belonging to the best Christian families in Janina. A Wallachian, named
Nicholas Janco, took the opportunity to denounce his own wife, who was
on the point of becoming a mother, as guilty of adultery, and handed her
also over to the pacha. These unfortunate women were brought before
Ali to undergo a trial of which a sentence of death was the foregone
conclusion. They were then confined in a dungeon, where they spent two
days of misery. The third night, the executioners appeared to conduct
them to the lake where they were to perish. Euphrosyne, too exhausted to
endure to the end, expired by the way, and when she was flung with the
rest into the dark waters, her soul had already escaped from its
earthly tenement. Her body was found the next day, and was buried in the
cemetery of the monastery of Saints-Anargyres, where her tomb, covered
with white iris and sheltered by a wild olive tree, is yet shown.

Mouktar was returning from his expedition when a courier from his
brother Veli brought him a letter informing him