may be one who shall even
presume some day to mount the throne when Hamet Dey is tired of it--in
which case I know of a bully whose head shall grace the highest spike on
Bab-Azoun!"

The quiet smile with which the latter part of this speech was delivered,
and the determined air of the youth, combined to make the soldiers
laugh, so that the bully felt himself under the necessity of retiring.

Sheathing his sword with a business-like air, and rudely pushing his
prisoner into the house, whither Bacri had already retired, the young
soldier entered and shut the door.

"Lucien!" exclaimed Bacri in surprise, as he grasped the hand of the
young janissary, "thou hast managed this business well, considering that
thou art no Turk. How didst thou come to think of it?"

"I should never have thought of it, had not my worthy father suggested
the idea," replied Lucien, with a smile, as he removed the rope from the
neck of his sire.--"Forgive me, father, if I have played my part too
roughly--"

"Too roughly!" echoed the bluff merchant, with a laugh; "why, boy, dost
think that thine old father has lost all his youthful vigour? I trow
not.--You see, Signor Bacri, we have had information of what was
impending for some days past, and although we could do nothing to avert
the catastrophe, we thought it possible that we might manage to avoid
the massacre at the palace. Knowing from report that the janissaries
ran riot at such times, and being aware that my son Lucien--who is a
noted linguist, Signor Bacri--spoke their language almost as well as a
native, I suggested that he should procure a uniform and personate a
janissary, while I should act the part of a runaway slave. Being a
favourite with poor Achmet, as you know, Lucien had much influence among
the domestics, and easily procured the disguise. The moment the
insurrection took place we fled from the palace, and, as you see, here
we are!"

"But why came you hither?" asked Bacri, with a troubled look.

"To whom else could we flee for shelter?" returned Lucien. "You are the
only friend we have in the city--except, indeed, the Padre Giovanni, who
has no power to save us."

"Alas!" returned the Jew, leading his friends into the skiffa, and
seating himself on the edge of the fountain that played there, "you lean
on a broken reed. My power is not sufficient to protect myself. Even
now the soldiers might have taken my life, and robbed my house with
impunity, had it not been fo