An ancient intimacy had subsisted between our families, and we were much together. Demetrius had never exhibited any particular marks of affection for me, yet I cannot deny that I had for some time cherished a growing preference for the handsome, high-spirited companion of my youth. It was the superstitious feeling I have before mentioned that induced me to consult the Oracle of the Sweet Waters as to how my young passion for Demetrius would thrive; and I returned from my enquiry disconsolate and overpowered, as all the answers of the oracle turned out unfavourable to my hopes. Under the dominion of a long cherished superstition, handed down from generation to generation, and sanctioned by the examples of all around, I would as soon have thought of counteracting the declared decrees of providence as of cherishing a hope in opposition to the oracle. You may suppose my agitation on being informed by my father that he was going to the governor to request permission for our marriage. With trembling anxiety I waited the result. Our governor was a Bashaw of three tails who, although a native of Stampalier and originally a Latin Christian, had long ago changed the cross for the crescent Ali Ozman was the Turkish name he assumed. It is usual, in asking a favour of our governors, to accompany it with a present. The one my father carried with him in support of his petition did not exactly please Ozman (for, of course, my father was afraid of exciting suspicions of his wealth by being too liberal), and Ozman received it with contemptuous indifference. Though he had turned Turk, he had enough of the Latin Christian in him to hate one of the Greek church mortally. My father prostrated himself three times as he presented his offering. ‘Is thy daughter handsome, Christian dog?' asked Ozman. At this, a French renegade, who had insinuated himself into the confidence of Ozman, whispered to him that I was the fairest virgin in the isle.
Ozman considered a few moments, and said with a smile, ‘I accept thy present, and permit thy daughter to wed the young Greek on condition that thou grant a feast before the marriage, and bid me be a guest.' My father returned home in a melancholy mood, and gave direction for the preparation of the feast and the reception of the cruel Ozman. From a sudden recollection of the disastrous omen of the oracle, darker and more dreary became my thoughts than they had ever been since the hour I became convinced Demetrius loved me. He also all that day seemed labouring under a depression, and departed early in the evening oppressed by vague forebodings he could not define. The feast was, however, prepared, the company bidden and, after waiting a considerable time for the arrival of Ozman, who did not appear, the ceremony proceeded with Demetrius and myself each choosing a godfather to attend us. At the altar we were met by the aged papa, or Greek priest, who, after blessing two crowns of foliage intertwined with ribbons and laces, placed them on our heads. He then in like manner blessed two rings, one of silver, the other of gold, placing the former on my finger, the latter on that of Demetrius. After these rings had been exchanged and we had taken our vows, the old priest was preparing to distribute the bread and wine which was to conclude the ceremony when a light strain of Turkish music at a distance caught our attention. In a little while Ozman was seen advancing at the head of twenty or thirty of his guards. Demetrius earnestly besought the priest to finish the ceremony before the barbarians should arrive to interrupt it, but the old man trembled so that the wine was spilled and the consecrated bread fell from his hands. In a few moments Ozman and his train entered the church with their scimitars drawn and scattered the bridal train, leaving me, my father, Demetrius and the priest alone at the altar.
'Stop, dog!' cried Ozman. ‘I forbid the marriage in the name of the prophet.'
'It is too late,' replied the old priest, meekly.
'Be silent, Christian dog! or I will stop thy howlings,' Ozman cried. ‘But what is this I smell-wine? You have been carousing, you swine! You have been swilling of that accursed beverage abhorred by Allah, and denounced by his Prophet. It is enough; seize the virgin and trample into dust all that oppose us.' During the whole of the fateful proceedings my poor father supported himself against the side of the smouldering altar in speechless horror. I could not speak, but my eyes were fixed on Demetrius, whose inflexible silence I but too well understood. The youth was too indignant to speak, but the clenched hands, quivering lips and blazing eye spoke a prologue to opposition and vengeance.
'Seize the virgin!' repeated Ozman, ‘she will be only too honoured and happy to escape the pollution of this blaspheming wine bibber.'
Ozman advanced as he uttered these insulting words. At that instant Demetrius sprang like lightning upon the foremost of the ravishers, and wrenched the scimitar from his hand before he was aware of his purpose. He rushed on Ozman: the first blow made his scimitar fly ringing into the air, the second was arrested by one of the guards, which saved the life of the tyrant, who exclaimed, almost choking with passion, ‘He has struck a Mussulman; he has outraged the law of the Prophet; he has polluted the person of the representative of the Commander of the Faithful. Hew him to the earth! cut him into atoms! scatter his flesh to the beasts of the field! let the dogs feed on the Christian reptile!' The crisis was come; my poor father took courage from despair, and seizing upon Ozman's scimitar, which still lay upon the ground, placed himself besides Demetrius, determined to share his fate and the with him. Guess my indescribable anguish. I was seized by several of the guards, whilst others attacked my father and lover. A desperate conflict ensued. My father fought bravely, but soon fell dead by the side of Demetrius, who had rushed towards the tyrant thinking he had him within his power, but a scimitar from behind had cleaved open his head. He sank on the ground never more to rise. At this dreadful sight my senses forsook me, and I do not know how long I continued insensible, for when I was brought back to life I was in a state of raving delirium, in which I have been informed I continued for many weeks. When I finally recovered, I found myself the property of a slave merchant on board a Turkish vessel which was sailing for Tunis.
On arriving there I was sold to the Bey. It was at Tunis I learned how I escaped the brutish lust of the villain Ozman. After the slaughter of my father and lover he had me conveyed to his harem, no doubt for the purpose of sacrificing my chastity to his abominable desires; but from the state I was in it became necessary for a doctor to be sent for, and he, after administering such medicines as brought me to myself, instantly declared me to be in a state of complete insanity. By the laws of Mahomet no one, under penalty of death, can abuse or take any liberty with the person of one of unsound mind. Thus for the moment I escaped ravishment. Shortly afterwards, in consequence of some act of peculation the wretch committed, the Sultan caused him to be strangled and his effects to be sold; being found among his slaves I became the property of the slave merchant, who quickly conveyed me from my country, home and friends, well knowing where my person would find a good market.
It appears such as I am I did not exactly strike the taste of the Bey, for he shortly afterwards sent me as a gift to our present master, who it seems it was decreed should enjoy the virgin treasures which the wicked Ozman dared not deprive me of and the Bey of Tunis neglected or did not think worth his time to take from me. After my first interview with the Dey I clearly saw that my chastity was in considerably more danger than it had been while I was in the power of Ozman, and that I was now without the protection I then enjoyed.