ng to his
saddle-bow, and in it was the head of Ali.

Kurshid Pasha washed his hand when the head was placed before him.

"I was not the cause of thy death!" he cried. "I guaranteed thee
against the headsman, but not against the sword of warriors. Why didst
thou provoke the lion?"

On the day fixed, beforehand, the Tartar horseman arrived in Stambul
with the head of Ali. The hours of his life had been calculated
exactly. An astronomer who determines the distances between
constellation and constellation is not more accurate in his
calculations than was Kurshid in determining the date of his enemy's
death.

On that day the Sultan held high festival.

The Tsirogan palace, the Seraglio, all the fountains were illuminated,
and Ali's head was carried through the principal streets of the town
in triumphal procession, and finally exhibited on a silver salver in
front of the middle gate of the Seraglio in the sight of all the
people.

So there he stood at last, on a silver pedestal in front of the
Seraglio. And the prophecy was fulfilled which had said, "A time will
come when thou shalt be in two places at once, in Stambul and in
Janina!" So it was.

Ali's dead body was buried at Janina, and his head, at the same time,
was standing in front of the Seraglio. At Janina, a single mourning
woman was weeping over the headless corpse; at Stambul a hundred
thousand inquisitive idlers were shouting around the bodyless head.

At that gate where the head of Ali was exhibited the throng was so
great that many people were crushed to death by the gaping
sight-seers, who had all come hither to stare at the gray-bearded
face, before whose wrathful look a whole realm had trembled.

At last, on the evening of the third day, when the well-feasted mob
had stared their fill and begun to disperse, there drew nigh to the
gate of the Seraglio an old yellow-faced fakir who, from the
appearance of his eyes, was evidently blind. His clothing consisted of
a simple sackcloth mantle, girded lightly round the waist by a cotton
girdle, from which hung a long roll of manuscript; on his head he wore
a high mortar-shaped hat, the distinguishing mark of the Omarites.

All the people standing about respectfully made way for him as, with
downcast eyes and hands stretched forth, he groped his way along, and,
without any one guiding him, made his way straight up to Tepelenti's
head.

There he stood and laid his right hand on the severed head, none
pre