“The Army,” said he, “has sent this present to the most glorious Padishah.  It is a treasure which is worth nothing so long as it is in our possession; it only becomes precious when we pay our debts with it, but it is downright damaging if we let others pay their debts to us therewith.  Say to the most puissant of Sultans that if he finds this one specimen too little, the Army is ready to send him a lot more, and then it will choose neither me nor thee to be the bearer thereof.”

The Kizlar-Aga, who did not know what was in the box, took it forthwith into the Hall of Delight, and there delivered it to Achmed together with the message.

The Sultan broke open the box in the presence of the Sultana Asseki, and on perceiving therein the heavy cannon-ball at once understood Ibrahim’s message.

He was troubled to the depths of his soul when he understood it.  He was so good, so gentle to everyone, he tried so hard to avoid injuring anybody, and yet everybody seemed to combine to make him miserable!  It seemed as though they envied him his sweet delights, and were determined that he should find no repose even in the very bosom of his family.

He embraced and kissed the fair Sultana again and again, and stammered with tears in his eyes: 

“Die then, my pretty flower! fade away! wither before my very eyes!  Die if thou canst that at least my heart may have nothing to long for!”

The Sultana threw herself in despair at his feet, with her dishevelled tresses waving all about her, and encircling Achmed’s knees with her white arms she besought him, sobbing loudly, not to go to the camp, at any rate, not that day.  Let at least the memory of the evil dreams she had dreamed the night before pass away, she said.

But no, he could remain behind no longer.  In vain were all weeping and wailing, however desperate.  The Sultan had made up his mind that he must go.  One single moment only did he hesitate, for one single moment the thought did occur to him:  Am I a mere tool in the hands of my army, and why do I wear a sword at all if I do not decapitate therewith those who rise in rebellion against me?  But he very soon let that thought escape.  He knew he was not capable of translating it into action.  Many, very many, must needs die if he acted thus; perhaps it were better, much better, for everybody if he submitted.

“There is nought for thee but to die, my pretty flower,” he whispered to the Sultana, who, sobbing and moaning, accompanied him to the very door of the Seraglio, and there he gently removed her arms from his shoulders and hastened to the council-chamber.

Adsalis did not die however, but made her way by the secret staircase to the apartments of the White Prince and found consolation with him.

“The Sultan did not yield to my arguments,” she said to the White Prince, who took her at once to his bosom, “he is off to the camp.  If only I could hold him back for a single day the rebellion would burst forth—­and then his dominion would vanish and his successor would be yourself.”