"But then it depends on what your heart prompts," said the pacha, casting a long, searching glance at the pale countenance of the young bim bashi. "The tone in which you say this has a strange ring, and sounds almost like a threat! Yet, deal with his highness, Cousrouf Pacha, as you think proper, and serve him as your heart prompts. I will recommend you to him. We are good friends, the viceroy and I, very good friends, and I have no doubt it will sadden him to see me escape out of this confusion, which will require bold and fearless management at his hands. I go to Stamboul, you go to Cousrouf Pacha to serve him--to serve him as your heart prompts, you say?" "Yes, excellency, as my heart prompts, in humility and devotion." "Now you may go; I will furnish you with a written testimonial, and warmly recommend you to the viceroy, as I have promised." He dismissed the young bim bashi with a gracious inclination of the head, and the latter returned to his ship to see that the prisoners were conveyed to the shore. He walked beside Osman Bey Bardissi as he was being carried down on a stretcher to a boat, by four soldiers, speaking kind, consoling words to the wounded man, and expressing the hope that Allah, in his mercy, would soon restore him to health, as his injuries were light. Bardissi gazed at him fixedly with his dark, glittering eyes. "And is it then really true, Mohammed Ali--are we to be conveyed to the shore, and set at liberty? Are we not to die?" "It is true. Lord Hutchinson demands that you be set at liberty. The capitan has consented, and you are now to be conveyed to the shore." "Is it not a new trap set for us? Will the bottom of our boats not open, and let us sink down into the sea?" "You are to be delivered up to the Englishman," replied Mohammed Ali, quietly. "I do not trust the word of the capitan pacha," said Bardissi, shaking his head. "Give me your word, Mohammed Ali, that we shall be safely conveyed to the shore--I will believe you. Tell me, truly, shall we not be cast into the sea, or assassinated before we reach the land?" "No, Osman Bey Bardissi, no! You will land safely, and if it be Allah's will, a day will come when Mohammed Ali will extend his hand to you and call you his friend. Who knows? Allah's sun shines everywhere. Men call themselves friends to-day, who but yesterday were enemies; and the friends of to-day may to-morrow be enemies. Allah's will alone decides our destiny!" "To-day you call yourself my enemy," said Bardissi, "but I already call you my friend! You have preserved my life, and, by Allah, Bardissi swears that you are henceforth his friend! If you should ever need a friend, call Bardissi, the Mameluke bey, and he will hear your call wherever he may be, if not above with Allah. And now, farewell!"