The hand of the Padishah that had been raised to curse sank slowly down again, his eyes half closed, his lips were pressed tightly together, he thrust his hands into the girdle of his mantle, looked down for a long time upon the Ulemas, and then quietly descended the steps of the throne.  On reaching the pavement he remained standing by the side of the throne, and cried in a hollow tremulous voice: 

“I have ceased to reign, let a better than I take my place.  I demand but one thing, let those who are at this moment the lords of the dominion of Osman swear that they will do no harm to my children.  Let them swear it to me on the Alkoran.  Take two from amongst you and let them convey my desire to Halil.”

Again a deep silence followed upon Achmed’s words.  The Ulemas fixed their gaze upon the ground, not one of them moved or made even a show of conveying the message.

“Perhaps, then, ye wish the death of my children also?  Or is there not one of you with courage enough to go and speak to them?”

A very aged, tremulous, half paralyzed Ulema was there among them, the dervish Mohammed, and he it was who at length ventured to speak.

“Oh, my master! who is valiant enough to speak with a raging lion, who hath wit enough to come to terms with the burning tempest of the Samum, or who would venture to go on an embassy to the tempest-tost sea and bandy words therewith?”

Achmed gazed darkly, doubtfully upon the Ulema, and his face wore an expression of repressed despair.

Sulali had compassion on the Sultan.

“I will go to them,” he said reassuringly; “remain here, oh, my master, till I return.  Of a truth I tell thee that I will not come back till they have sworn to do what thou desirest.”

And now Ispirizade said that he also would go with Sulali.  He had not sufficient strength of mind to endure the gaze of the Sultan till Sulali should return.  Far rather would he go with him also to the rebels.  Besides they already understood each other very well.

The envoys found Halil sitting under his tent in the Etmeidan.

Sulali drew near to him and delivered the message of the Sultan.

But he did not deliver it in the words of Achmed.  He neither begged nor implored, nor mingled his request with bitter lamentations as Achmed had done, but he spoke boldly and sternly, without picking his words, as Achmed ought to have done.

“The Padishah would have his own life and the lives of his children guaranteed by oath,” said he to the assembled leaders of the people.  “Swear, therefore, on the Alkoran that you will respect them, and swear it in the names of your comrades likewise.  The Padishah is resolved that if you refuse to take this oath he will blow up the Seraglio and every living soul within it into the air with gunpowder.”

The rebels were impressed by this message, only Halil Patrona smiled.  He knew very well that such a threat as this never arose in the breast of Achmed.  His gentle soul was incapable of such a thing.  So he folded his arms across his breast and smiled.