And he seized the reluctant hands of both men and absolutely forced them to shake hands with each other.  But he could not prevent their eyes from meeting, and though swords were denied them their glances of mutual hatred were enough to wound to the death.

After the council broke up, Halil’s enemies remained behind with the Grand Vizier.  Kaplan Giraj gnashed his teeth with rage.

“Didn’t I tell you not to let him speak!” he exclaimed, “for when once he opens his mouth he turns every drawn sword against us, and drives wrath from the breasts of men with the glamour of his tongue.”

So they had three days wherein to hatch a fresh plot.

* * * * *

The session of the Divan was fixed for three days later.  Halil Patrona employed the interval like a man who feels that his last hour is at hand.  He would have been very short-sighted not to have perceived that judgment had already been pronounced against him, although his enemies were still doubtful how to carry it into execution.

He resigned himself to his fate as it became a pious Mussulman to do.  He had only one anxiety which he would gladly have been rid of—­what was to become of his wife and child.

On the evening of the last day he led Guel-Bejaze down to the shore of the Bosphorus as if he would take a walk with her.  The woman carried her child in her arms.

Since the woman had had a child she had acquired a much braver aspect.  The gentlest animal will be audacious when it has young ones, even the dove becomes savage when it is hatching its fledgelings.

Halil put his wife into a covered boat, which was soon flying along under the impulse of his muscular arms.  The child rejoiced aloud at the rocking of the boat, he fancied it was the motion of his cradle.  The eyes of the woman were fixed now upon the sky and now upon the unruffled surface of the watery mirror.  A star smiled down upon her wheresoever she gazed.  The evening was very still.

“Knowest thou whither I am taking thee, Guel-Bejaze?” asked her husband.

“If thou wert to ask me whither thou oughtest to send me, I would say take me to some remote and peaceful valley enclosed all around by lofty mountains.  Build me there a little hut by the side of a bubbling spring, and let there be a little garden in front of the little hut.  Let me stroll beneath the leaves of the cedar-trees, where I may hear no other sound but the cooing of the wood-pigeon; let me pluck flowers on the banks of the purling brook, and spy upon the wild deer; let me live there and die there—­live in thine arms and die in the flowering field by the side of the purling brook.  If thou wert to ask me, whither shall I take thee, so would I answer.”

“Thou hast said it,” replied Halil, shipping the oars, for the rising evening breeze had stiffened out the sail and the little boat was flying along of its own accord; then he sat him down beside his wife and continued, “I am indeed sending thee to a remote and hidden valley, where a little hut stands on the banks of a purling stream.  I have prepared it for thee, and there shalt thou dwell with thy child.”