He shook his head reproachfully.
“Remember you are dead. Your wife also is dead, therefore your fair daughter Mirmah is your only lawful heir. How can you be so base as to seek to deceive the man who has saved your life?”
“Mirmah!” I cried with a start. “What is to become of her?”
The Kislar-Aga, resentful of my ingratitude, nevertheless answered patiently, “Sultana Khurrem is a pious woman and out of compassion for your unprotected daughter will take her into the harem and give her a suitable upbringing. She will also take over the stewardship of her property. The Defterdar’s clerk will shortly appear here to make an inventory and to seal the house with the Sultana’s personal seal. It would be well for you to make haste and bring out your treasure chest, or I may be tempted to follow your good advice.”
I found myself in very great perplexity, for I knew that if I showed him Muley-Hassan’s diamonds I should never see a sign of them again, and he would certainly not allow me to dig up the bag alone.
While we were conversing the little barber had completely altered my appearance and now stood admiring the results of his work. He gave me a set of ragged garments, such as dervishes wear, and an evil-smelling goatskin to throw over my shoulders. He had even provided me with an old staff. I could not recognize myself when I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
I was still anxiously debating with myself how to satisfy the rapacious Kislar-Aga when my own deaf-mute entered the room. With flickering fingers he begged my pardon for entering unsummoned, then signed to me to accompany him to the cellars. The Kislar-Aga would not let me out of his sight for an instant, so we took a lantern and went down together. I seldom went to the cellar save to fetch up a jar of wine, and the deaf-mute led us to a room whose existence I had never suspected, since Giulia alone had instructed Sinan how the house was to be built. Clothes belonging to Alberto lay scattered about, and there was also a richly covered bed where Giulia must often have been when I fancied her at the Seraglio. Remains of food, already moldy, a jar of wine, and a lithe cane showed how diligently they had refreshed and revived themselves. The deaf-mute raised one of the flagstones and from the hole thus exposed came the blaze of gold and precious stones. The Kislar-Aga, forgetful of his dignity, fell on his knees and buried his arms to the elbows in coin, then brought out some magnificent ornaments that he inspected with the air of a connoisseur. Only now did I understand what had become of my wealth during all these years.
“Michael el-Hakim,” said the Kislar-Aga, “your slave is more intelligent than you and deserves recompense. He will be raised to a position undreamed-of for one of his quality, for the mutes have chosen him to be their seventh man, now that his predecessor has disgraced himself by the wounds he inflicted on the Grand Vizier. They have already taught him how to handle the noose and he will soon be entirely competent for his merciful function. It was no doubt to win my favor that he showed us this hidden treasure.”
He glanced with benevolent condescension at the deaf-mute and even patted him on the back. But the slave fell upon his knees to me, kissed my feet, watered my hands with his tears, and looked at me with so intelligent and human an expression that with a flash of insight I realized that he knew more about me than I had ever suspected. My repugnance melted away and with my finger tips I touched his brow, eyes, and cheeks as a sign that I understood him. At the same time I felt greatly relieved not to be burdened with him on my journey to Egypt. The Kislar-Aga grew impatient and said, “Michael, you know me for an honest man. Take ten gold pieces from this heap; that’s a great sum for a poor dervish. You may also give a gold piece to your slave.”
Without further delay he took off his costly kaftan and spread it upon the ground, then with both hands heaped gold and jewels upon it. He had just tied sleeves and hem together to make a bundle when there was a fearful explosion. The floor shook, and plaster poured from the ceiling. The portly Kislar-Aga shook like a jelly and cried, “Allah means to punish the city! This is an earthquake. Let us hurry out before we’re trapped like rats beneath the tumbling walls.”
I too was frightened, but as I listened I could distinguish thunderous shots and understood that a cannon ball had struck the house. The janissaries in the garden were yelling at the tops of their voices and guessing at once what had happened I cursed Andy from the bottom of my heart because he would not even let me die in peace, but at the last moment must come meddling in my affairs. I ran swiftly upstairs and out into the garden, to see flames bursting from the janissaries’ muskets. The din of the shooting deafened me, and it was then that I became aware of a dozen wine- and opium-maddened dervishes howling and whirling and brandishing scimitars all over my flowerbeds. I roared to Andy to call off this nonsense, the Kislar-Aga standing behind me meanwhile, trembling and holding me convulsively by the sleeves. Like most eunuchs he was afraid of noise and shooting. Andy obeyed and staggered forward, yet his eyes passed me by and he said inquiringly, “The voice is Jacob’s, but where is Esau’s hairy breast? I seemed to hear my brother Michael’s bleating voice, though I came only to take charge of his corpse.”
The Kislar-Aga, much to the onbash’s relief, dismissed the janissaries, who had not dared fire directly on the holy men. These now whirled about the garden in their wild dances, calling on the name of Allah, reciting verses from the Koran, and gashing one another with their swords until their blood ran down in streams. To my delight not even the onbash had recognized me after my treatment at the barber’s hands.
It was long before I could persuade Andy of my identity, but at last? we attended the Kislar-Aga to his boat with all honor, and even helped him with his bundle, which was too heavy for a man of his years to carry alone. Then, when Andy and I were by ourselves, we dug up our buried diamonds, left the dervishes to their sacred dances, and slipped away in silence and without regret. That same night a fishing boat took us across the straits to Scutari, whence we were to embark upon our long voyage.
These nine books of my life I have written in the course of two years, at the dervish monastery near Cairo. For when after innumerable difficulties and sufferings I stood at last before Suleiman the eunuch he would not believe my story. He robbed me of my diamonds and locked me up in this cloister. The purpose of these books has been to prove to the noble Suleiman that after Grand Vizier Ibrahim’s death I did not steal his diamonds. Ill-natured persons have even declared that I arranged his funeral solely in order to come at the treasure he had amassed in the course of years, since as his confidential friend I alone knew of their secret hiding place in the palace. Yet it is not my fault if the incompetent Defterdar’s clerks have not been able to find that hiding place, and if they fancy I had time to conceal the treasure before the mutes strangled me in my house.
I wrote these nine books also to bring peace to my heart and to free myself from the oppressive memories of my former existence, for only thus can I begin a new life, having now-at least in my own eyes-matured as a human being. To attain this I have had to undergo many hard trials, of which my wife Giulia with her strange eyes was by no means the least. But now I believe I have found the right path, and I believe also that I am able to lead the life of an ordinary man, if only I may be given the opportunity to do so.
Openly and finally I mean to abstain from good resolutions, having found that where others are concerned they are apt to do more harm than good.
Epilogue
THE Nile had twice overflowed its banks before the unhappy dervish Michael reached the end of his long story. He wrote at night, and each morning presented himself at Suleiman the eunuch’s palace to read aloud to him what he had written. And when at last he made an end, the thin and ragged dervish prostrated himself before Suleiman shedding bitter tears, and raising his hands in supplication he said, “Hear my prayer, noble Suleiman! Release me from these intolerable devotional exercises of the dervishes and above all restore to me my lawful property. Through this long story of mine I have shown conclusively that I came by it in what amounts to an honest manner, and now need it to begin the life of an ordinary man. It would be foolish indeed to start again as a beggar, and I would rather submit to the grim necessity of remaining for the rest of my days in this monastery.”