Cousrouf Pacha has stood there, composedly gazing at this fearful, horrible burial. Now he steps to the side of the poor, bound man, and takes leave of him in cruel, mocking words. Does he hear them? His widely-opened eyes stare out fixedly upon the waters. He is motionless, no quivering muscle indicates that he has understood the pacha's words of triumph and mockery. Cousrouf turns and beckons to the slaves. "Leave him lying there! He will be found in the morning, for he will be looked for. Nothing has been done to him, and I have kept my word. Now let us go; the ship is ready to sail, is it not?" "Yes, gracious master, all is in readiness," replied the eunuchs. He turns and walks off toward Cavalla. An hour later, Cousrouf Pacha leaves the governor's house, and leaves it to return no more. His harem had been conveyed to the ship before the morning dawned; and all his treasure and baggage had been packed, and taken on board the day before. All is in readiness to weigh the anchor and sail as soon as the pacha shall have come on board. Cousrouf Pacha walks proudly down toward the harbor, at his side the governor, who insists on accompanying his honored guest to the shore. The servants in gold-embroidered liveries, and the slaves, follow his excellency. And, gayly smiling, Cousrouf chats with the governor all the way down to the shore, grasps his hand in parting, and thanks him for his hospitality. He then enters the boat covered with costly carpets that is to convey him to the ship. The tschorbadji stands on the shore gazing after him, vainly endeavoring to display a sorrowful, countenance, and repress all evidence of gladness that fills his heart at the thought that, after long years, the haughty pacha, who entered his house as master, has at last departed. Ah, it will be delightful to be able to walk in the park and garden, with his Osman, without the fear of meeting his proud guest. Hastily the tschorbadji returns to Cavalla, to his son who is still reclining in the garden house, and relates that Cousrouf has departed, and that he has sent his dear Osman the kindest greetings, and the best wishes for his welfare. Osman listens with an air of indifference and anxiety, and his father regards him with dismay. "Osman, what is the matter, what is it that grieves you?" "Father, I must say it. Something fearful has taken place this night!" "What can have happened, Osman? Tranquillize yourself! You are trembling! What has occurred?" "Father; I do not know as yet; I have been listening for the shot Mohammed was to fire. I have not yet heard it, and yet I feel that some misfortune has happened to him, and that something dreadful has taken place." "But what can have happened to Mohammed?"