ere unable to
rush out and save them; not even one could be rescued. One more shriek
of woe, and then the boats sank. For a few moments the surface of the
water was covered with bright gauze veils and shiny turbans and white
limbs and dishevelled tresses, and then a few solitary turbans floated
on the water.

Sulaiman, sobbing in despair, fell down in a heap close by the window,
while Mukhtar fell madly on the door and kicked it with all his might,
as if he would drown in the din the cries for help of the perishing
damsels. Only Vely Bey looked in bitter silence upon the detestable
waves, which within a minute had swallowed three heavens.

Far, far away on the crest of the rising waves a black object appeared
to be swimming. What was it? Perhaps one of the damsels. One moment it
vanished in the wave-valleys, the next it appeared again on the top of
a high ridge of water. What could it be? But farther and farther it
receded. Perchance some one had escaped, after all. Greek girls are
good swimmers.

And now Ali Pasha arose from his place and said, with a smile, to his
sons:

"Methinks that neither the storms of ocean, nor the swollen waters,
nor the breath of the simoon will now appear so terrible to you as
they did a few hours ago. Depart now with all speed. When you return
you will find new harems here, which will make you forget the old
ones." And with that he quitted them.

Sulaiman and Mukhtar immediately went their way. Woe to whomsoever
shall now give them a pretext for wreaking their vengeance upon him!

But Vely Bey remained there looking out upon the water, and as the
evening grew darker he thought upon Ali Pasha. His brothers had loaded
their father with curses; he had not said a word. They will soon make
their peace with their father--he never will.[8]

[Footnote 8: It is a fact that Ali drowned the harems of his
sons in the lake of Acheruz because he feared their excessive
influence.--JOKAI.]

CHAPTER IV

GASKHO BEY

The lightning strikes to the earth the man that flies from it. Ill
luck is a venomous dog, which runs after him who would escape it.

Ali Pasha's band of Albanians, on arriving at Stambul, began to make
inquiries about Gaskho Bey.

He turned out to be a good honest man, by profession an inspector of
the ichoglanler of the Seraglio, and a particularly mild and peaceful
Mussulman to boot. In temperament he was somewhat phlegmatic, with a
leaning to melancholy. A palmist wou