On his arrival, he was immediately led into the Imperial presence, where his trembling knees instinctively bent under him, as he wildly gasped out his innocence of any and every crime against His Sublime Highness; he wrung his hands, he implored a mercy for which he scarcely dared to hope, he writhed in his agony of spirit, expecting nothing less than the bowstring for some imputed delinquency, and he talked of his wife, and his young and helpless children so soon to be cast upon the world unless his life were spared; while the Sultan laid aside his _fèz_, and prepared his own head for a more simple operation. “Peace, fool!” said His Highness at length, “did you not cut the hair of Halil Pasha?” “I did, your Sublime Highness; and to the best of my poor skill,” faltered out the pale and terrified _artiste_; “have mercy upon my want of knowledge!” “Compose your nerves, and produce your scissors,” returned the Sultan; “you shall have the distinguished honour of cutting mine, also—to your task at once.” No sooner said than done: men of this craft have been gifted with ready wit and self-possession, from the days in which the red-robed ghost of the German barber shaved the adventurous student in the haunted castle; and ere long His Imperial Highness was cropped and curled to his sublime satisfaction; and the hairdresser found himself appointed keeper of the head of the Turkish Empire—a “man of mark”—and returned to his home in triumph, not only _quitte pour la peur_, but with his wildest visions realized! During the short period that the Sultan remained in the mosque, the scene around us was far from unamusing: the horses were paraded to and fro; the troops rested on their arms, and conversed freely with each other; the officers, breaking through the spell that had lately bound them, resumed their stroll and their scrutiny; and many a glance was directed towards our little party, for which we were indebted to the curiosity of their Imperial Master. Then came a rush from the great entrance of the mosque; and, when a host of red-capped and turbaned Turks had issued forth, the Chèïk-Islam slowly descended the steps, and departed in the same state as he had come. The horses were led back into their ranks; the military shouldered their muskets; and once more the Seraskier Pasha with his train of attendants paced slowly along the line.