“Ma sh’ Allah! O Allah, mercy! Have compassion! In what have I sinned that such woes are stacked upon me? I am robbed, and may not take vengeance; I give judgment, and must reverse my judgment. And all that is not enough. I myself am doomed to ruin by the Grand Wazìr. On one hand, the Grand Wazìr; on the other, the Powers of Europe. What am I to do, whom obey? Some one must die or I am ruined. Yet all these must go free, or I die. What matter in the end? Let me die, since it is so decreed.” “Calm yourself, O my dear Yûsuf,” whispered Abd-ur-Rahman at his ear. “Thy plight is by no means desperate. I see many in this court who are nothing to my uncle—inquisitives of the city who have pushed in somehow. Punish a few of them and all is said.” “But ... O Lord!... is it not the hour of sunset? And the consul enjoined, ‘ere sunset.’” “Take comfort. There is yet half an hour. Let me indicate the men to thee. Those four by the door will do. They serve no purpose in the world. I have seen them often in the streets, and know their kind. Act at once and secretly. Let not my father guess thy purpose. Nay, on second thoughts, what need to act at all in person? I myself will bid the soldiers hale them forth to execution; and do thou meanwhile make thy peace with my father and all these his companions.” “May Allah reward thee, O child of my soul. Thy wit has saved my honor.” In the fullness of his heart the judge embraced Abd-ur-Rahman, and kissed him on both cheeks. “One other favor I must beg of thee: let some one seek out the chancellor of the English consulate, that he may see the corpses. Bid him ask if it is the consul’s desire that their heads be severed and set up in some public place for an example to other malefactors.” No sooner had Abd-ur-Rahman left his side than the Câdi stepped down off the dais. Approaching the Sheykh Shems-ud-dìn, he strove to kiss his hand, craving pardon for the indignities heaped in error on one so illustrious. His urbanity fully restored, he talked and joked lightly with the prisoners, calling them his children, his soul’s dear ones, smiling lovingly upon each and all of them, even upon his two robbers. Loud swelled their praise of his magnanimity, and many were the coins thrust into the hand which he held for convenience’ sake behind his back. The Sheykh Shems-ud-dìn blessed him, and made him a present on account of Zeyd. With pious eyes, Yûsuf Effendi thanked God for his mercies, and repeatedly exclaimed: “O lucky day!” At length Abd-ur-Rahman came back to him and whispered: “It is finished.” “The praise to Allah. You are released, all of you; your arms are restored,” cried the Câdi, with bounteous gestures. “Sin no more, I beseech you; but go your ways in peace.” “In this hour we shall set out for our own place,” said Hassan Agha, when the storm of blessings had subsided. He with Shibli took a penitent leave of the Sheykh Shems-ud-dìn, who would not be prevailed on to accompany them.