She had already guessed what had taken place. She knocked at the door. When all was over, they let her in. There lay her son before her eyes, his body still warm with life, the pulses throbbing, the breath hardly departed from him. But we had better draw a veil over the sad scene. What a mother’s feelings must have been to see her son thus entrapped and murdered, it were easier to imagine than describe. She was then compelled to return to Ghemlik. She came into the city with her hair dishevelled and her robe rent, filling the air with her shrieks and moanings. The women of Ghemlik, high and low, gathered round her; and when they heard of the fearful deed that had been perpetrated, like frenzied Bacchantes they rushed out of the gates. ‘Where’s the eunuch? Where’s the eunuch?’ is their cry. And woe to him had he fallen into their hands. But he, knowing what impended, and fearing to be torn in pieces by the furious women, like a second Orpheus,[116] lost no time in making his escape. But I must now return to my subject. A messenger was despatched to Solyman, with a letter announcing my arrival. During the interval, while we were waiting for his answer, I had an opportunity of seeing Constantinople at my leisure. My chief wish was to visit the Church of St. Sophia; to which, however, I only obtained admission as a special favour, as the Turks think that their temples are profaned by the entrance of a Christian. It is a grand and massive building, well worth visiting. There is a huge central cupola, or dome, lighted only from a circular opening at the top. Almost all the Turkish mosques are built after the pattern of St. Sophia. Some say it was formerly much bigger, and that there were several buildings in connection with it, covering a great extent of ground, which were pulled down many years ago, the shrine in the middle of the church alone being left standing.