He read the firman, pressed it to
his forehead, in token of obedience, and prepared for death. The Capidji
Bachi produced another firman, and presented it to Mustapha. It was to
raise him to the pachalik.
"Barik Allah! praise be to God for all things," humbly observed
Mustapha. "What am I but the sultan's slave, and to execute his orders?
On my head be it!"
Mustapha gave the sign, and the mutes seized the unfortunate pacha.
"There is but one God, and Mahomet is his Prophet," said the pacha.
"Mustapha," continued he, turning round to him with a sardonic smile,
"may your shadow never be less--but you have swallowed the coffee."
The mutes tightened the string. In a minute a cloak was thrown over the
body of the pacha.
"The coffee," muttered Mustapha, as he heard the pacha's last words. "I
thought it had a taste. Now he's sent to Jehanum for his treachery." And
all the visions of power and grandeur, which had filled the mind of the
new pacha, were absorbed by fear and dismay.
The Capidji Bachi, having performed his duty, withdrew. "And now,"
exclaimed the renegade, "let me have my promised reward."
"Your reward--true. I had forgotten," replied Mustapha, as the pain
occasioned by the working of the poison distorted his face. "Yes, I had
forgotten," continued Mustapha, who, certain that his own end was
approaching, was furious as a wild beast, with pain and baffled
ambition. "Yes, I had forgotten. Guards, seize the renegade."
"They must be quicker than you think for," replied Huckaback, darting
from the guards and drawing his scimitar, while, with his fingers in his
mouth, he gave a shrill whistle.
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