"So soon? Then it is indeed true? We had heard so, but we could not and would not believe it. We love you so dearly that we shall unwillingly see you depart. Even my son, my poor sick Osman, who cannot walk up a stairway because of his weakness, has requested that he may be permitted to come in person to take leave of you, and to beg that you will remember and be gracious to him in the future also. Will your excellency permit his servants to bring him in?" Cousrouf Pacha made no reply, but arose, walked hastily to the door, opened it himself, and stepped out to Osman, who lay on the couch, beside which stood the slaves who had brought him up. "Osman, I thank you for this proof of your friendly consideration.-- Take hold now, ye dogs, and bear your master into the room!" He walked beside the couch while the slaves bore it into the room, and deposited it, at his command, beside his own cushions. "Now come, too, tschorbadji, and seat yourself at our side, and let us smoke the chibouque together for the last time." "The pipe of peace, Cousrouf Pacha, as the savages do when seated together for the last time in their wigwam," said Osman, smiling. The pacha cast a searching glance at him. "Tschorbadji, you have a very learned son. I know nothing of such things, have never heard of them. Who smoke the pipe of peace?" "The savages in America, when they become reconciled to their enemies, and receive them in their wigwam." "But that has no application to us. In the first place, we are not savages, but very respectable and considerable people; and secondly, I trust I am not receiving enemies here, with whom it is necessary to smoke the pipe of peace." "Certainly not, but very faithful friends and devoted servants, who have come to bid you a last farewell." "You are right, tschorbadji, a last farewell, I trust," said the pacha, laughing. "For (and forgive me for saying so) it is horribly dull here in your city of Cavalla. Your revolutionary fishermen and the rest of the rabble here would make my life intolerable. I admire you, tschorbadji, for having the courage to bear it--and particularly you, my dear Osman. You should endeavor to obtain some position in Stamboul. There you would recover your health; the rude sea air here is assuredly injurious to your weak lungs." "I wish he would do so," said the tscborbadji, with a sigh. "You are certainly right, the keen sea air, and the rough storms that often surge down from the mountains are injurious to my son, but it is different in Stamboul, where one is protected from the surrounding mountains. I wish he would go to Stamboul, and that you would assist him in obtaining a suitable position there." "Father," replied Osman, gently, "I will not separate myself from you. Wherever you are there will I remain, for we two are inseparable." "Then a better place must be found for your father, Osman." "If that could be, excellency, I should be happy indeed!" cried the governor.