ect, that everything in the
shape of valour oozed out at my fingers' ends. I reflected again, and
the result was that I determined to have nothing more to do with the
business, and that neither the sultan nor the pacha should be the better
for my exertions. That night we made a sally; and as I was considered a
prodigy of valour, I was one of those who were ordered to lead on my
troop. I curled my moustachios, swore I would not leave a janissary
alive, flourished my scimitar, marched out at the head of my troop, and
then took to my heels, and in two days arrived safely at my mother's
house. As soon as I entered, I tore my turban, and threw dust upon my
head, in honour of my father's memory, and then sat down. My mother
embraced me--we were alone.

"And your father? Is it for him that we are to mourn?"

"Yes," replied I, "he was a lion, and he is in Paradise."

My mother commenced a bitter lamentation; but of a sudden recollecting
herself, she said, "But, Hudusi, it's no use tearing one's hair and good
clothes for nothing. Are you sure that your father is dead?"

"Quite sure," replied I. "I saw him down."

"But he may only be wounded," replied my mother.

"Not so, my dearest mother, abandon all hope, for I saw his head off."

"Are you sure it was his body that you saw with the head off?"

"Quite sure, dear mother, for I was a witness to its being cut off."

"If that is the case," replied my mother, "he can never come back again,
that's clear. Allah acbar--God is great. Then must we mourn." And my
mother ran out into the street before the door, shrieking and screaming,
tearing her hair and her garments, so as to draw the attention and
sympathy of all her neighbours, who asked her what was the matter. "Ah!
wahi, the head of my house is no more," cried she, "my heart is all
bitterness--my soul is dried up--my liver is but as water; ah! wahi, ah!
wahi," and she continued to weep and tear her hair, refusing all
consolation. The neighbours came to her assistance; they talked to her,
they reasoned with her, restrained her violence, and soothed her into
quietness. They all declared that it was a heavy loss, but that a true
believer had gone to Paradise; and they all agreed that no woman's
conduct could be more exemplary, that no woman was ever more fond of her
husband. I said nothing, but I must acknowledge that, from her previous
conversation with me, and the quantity of pilau which she devoured that
evening for her sup