d up a
firman to his forehead.

The pacha turned pale, for he knew that his hour was come. "Bismillah!
In the name of the Most High, O officer, whom seekest thou?" exclaimed
the pacha, with emotion.

"The sultan, the Lord of Life, has sent this to you, O pacha! as a proof
of his indulgence and great mercy." And the Capidji Bachi produced a
silken bowstring, and at the same time he handed the fatal scroll to the
pacha.

"Mustapha," whispered the pacha, "while I read this, collect my guards;
I will resist. I fear not the sultan at this distance, and I can soften
him with presents."

But Mustapha had no such fellow-feeling. "O pacha!" replied he, "who can
dispute the will of heaven's vicegerent? There is but one God, and
Mahomet is his Prophet."

"I will dispute it," exclaimed the pacha. "Go out and call my trustiest
guards."

Mustapha left the divan, and returned with the mutes and some of the
guards, who had been suborned by himself.

"Traitor!" exclaimed the pacha.

"La Allah, il Allah! there is but one God," said Mustapha.

The pacha saw that he was sacrificed. 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 be