I now
considered my death as certain--nothing buoyed me up but my observing
that the resentment of the aga was levelled more against my master than
against me; but still I thought that, when the cask was opened, the
recognition of the black slave must immediately take place, and the
evidence of my master would fix the murder upon me.
It was with a trembling hand that I obeyed the orders of the aga--the
head of the pipe was taken out, and, to the horror of all present, the
body was exposed; but instead of being black, it had turned _white_,
from the time which it had been immersed. I rallied a little at this
circumstance, as, so far, suspicion would be removed.
"Holy Abraham!" exclaimed my master, "what is that which I see!--A dead
body, so help me God!--but I know nothing about it--do you, Charis?" I
vowed that I did not, and called the Patriarch to witness the truth of
my assertion. But while we were thus exclaiming, the aga's eyes were
fixed upon my master with an indignant and deadly stare which spoke
volumes; while the remainder of the people who were present, although
they said nothing, seemed as if they were ready to tear him into pieces.
"Cursed unbeliever!" at last uttered the Turk, "is it thus that thou
preparest the wine for the disciples of the Prophet?"
"Holy father Abraham!--I know no more than you do, aga, how that body
came there; but I will change the cask with pleasure, and will send you
another."
"Be it so," replied the aga; "my slave shall fetch it now.
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