With that he opened the window and let the dove go, and she, rising swiftly into the air, remained poised on high for a time with fluttering pinions, and then, with the swiftness and directness of a well-aimed dart, she flew straight towards the mountains. "Poor Irene!" sighed Janaki, buckling on his sword with which he certainly was not very likely to kill anybody--and he accompanied the insurgents to the Etmeidan. In Stambul things were all topsy-turvy once more. The seventh Janissary regiment, when the two-and-thirty Janissaries returned to them with bloody swords boasting of their deed, rushed upon them and cut them to pieces. The new Janissary Aga was shot dead within his own gates. Kabakulak retired within a mosque. Halil Pelivan, who had been appointed Kulkiaja, hid himself in a drain pipe for three whole days, and never emerged therefrom so long as the uproar lasted. Three days later all was quiet again. A new name came to the front which quelled the risen tempest--the last scion of the famous Kueprili family, every member of which was a hero. Achmed Kueprilizade collected together the ten thousand shebejis, bostanjis, and baltajis who dwelt round the Seraglio, and when everyone was in despair attacked the rebels in the open streets, routed them in the piazzas, and in three days seven thousand of the people fell beneath his blows--and so the realm had peace once more. Janaki also fell. They chopped off his head and he offered not the slightest resistance. As for Pelivan and Kabakulak they were banished for their cowardice. So Achmed Kueprilizade became Grand Vizier. As for Achmed III. he lived nine years longer in the Seven Towers, and tradition says he died by poison. FOOTNOTES: [17] Tiger. [18] Mouse. CHAPTER XIII. THE EMPTY PLACE. Everything was now calm and quiet, and the world pursued its ordinary course; but far away among the Blue Mountains dwells a woman who knows nothing of all that is going on around her, and who every evening ascends the highest summit of the hills surrounding her little hut and gazes eagerly, longingly, in the direction of Stambul, following with her eyes the long zig-zag path which vanishes in the dim distance--will he come to-day whom she has so long awaited in vain? Every evening she returns mournfully to her little dwelling, and whenever she sits down to supper she places opposite to her a platter and a mug--and so she waits for him who comes not. At night she lays Halil's pillow beside her, and puts _their_ child between the pillow and herself that he may find it there when he comes. And so day follows day. One day there came a tapping at her window. With joy she leaps from her bed to open it. It is not Halil but a pigeon--a carrier-pigeon bringing a letter. Guel-Bejaze opens the letter and reads it through--and a second time she reads it through, and then she reads it through a third time, and then she begins to smile and whispers to herself: "He will be here directly."