This arrangement made, the lover once more intruded on the seclusion of the Priest, and with all the eloquence inspired by sincere affection, besought him to revoke his resolution, and to give him his daughter. But the haughty Emir only added insult to refusal; and the enraged suitor, casting back the injuries which were addressed to him, sprang towards the door that communicated with the harem, and vowed that he would force his way, and carry off his bride despite every Priest in Stamboul. The affrighted father, shrieking forth sacrilege and murder, clapped his hands, and a couple of stout slaves entered, to whom he issued orders to seize the madman, and put him forth; but the suitor was young and vigorous, and he had already beaten down one of his antagonists, when the soldiers, perceiving from the clamour that was going on above, that the critical moment had arrived, rushed up stairs, and demanded the occasion of the outcry. The Emir, breathless with terror, and trembling with rage, only pointed to the lover, as he exclaimed; “To the Seraskier! To the Seraskier! _Inshallàh!_ I will have justice.” He was instantly obeyed. The soldiers surrounded their commander, and hurried him off, followed by the panting Priest; and in ten minutes more the whole party stood before the Seraskier. The fateful moment had arrived; and the heart of the young man beat high with a thousand conflicting feelings as the Emir told his tale, and implored vengeance on the miscreant who had dared to beard him beneath his own roof, and to attempt a violation of his harem; but he was re-assured by the tone of the Pasha, as he turned towards him, when the angry father had ceased speaking, and bade him explain his motives for such unheard-of violence. “Noble Pasha,” said the lover, “may your days be many!—I will hide nothing from you. I love this old man’s daughter; and I have asked her of him for a wife. I have won her heart, no matter where nor how; but may my hours be numbered if I pollute your ears with falsehood. He has spurned me with insult because I am a soldier—He has declared the uniform of the glorious Sultan (May his shadow ever lie long upon the earth!) to be the brand of obloquy and disgrace; and had I not loved the girl more than perhaps it is altogether seemly for a True Believer to love a woman, I should have given him back scorn for scorn. But I could not do this without regret; and it is through my own agency that I now stand before your Excellency, to plead my cause, and to teach this hoary Priest that the soldier of the Sultan is not to be taunted to his teeth, even by a white-turbaned Emir. I could not force myself into your presence, noble Pasha, to talk to you of a woman; and thus I played the part of a madman in order that I might be dragged hither as a culprit, and learn from your own lips whether the crescent upon my breast is to make me an outcast from society.”