e camp of Pacho
Bey, the fear of being for ever separated from his sons, the thought of
his grandson in the enemy's hands, all threw him into the deepest
melancholy, and his sleepless eyes were constantly drowned in tears. He
refused his food, and sat for seven days with untrimmed beard, clad in
mourning, on a mat at the door of his antechamber, extending his hands to
his soldiers, and imploring them to slay him rather than abandon him.
His wives, seeing him in this state, and concluding all was lost, filled
the air with their lamentations. All began to think that grief would
bring Ali to the grave; but his soldiers, to whose protestations he at
first refused any credit, represented to him that their fate was
indissolubly linked with his. Pacho Bey having proclaimed that all taken
in arms for Ali would be shot as sharers in rebellion, it was therefore
their interest to support his resistance with all their power. They also
pointed out that the campaign was already advanced, and that the Turkish
army, which had forgotten its siege artillery at Constantinople, could
not possibly procure any before the end of October, by which time the
rains would begin, and the enemy would probably be short of food.
Moreover, in any case, it being impossible to winter in a ruined town,
the foe would be driven to seek shelter at a distance.

These representations, made with warmth conviction, and supported by
evidence, began to soothe the restless fever which was wasting Ali, and
the gentle caresses and persuasions of Basillisa, the beautiful Christian
captive, who had now been his wife for some time, completed the cure.

At the same time his sister Chainitza gave him an astonishing example of
courage. She had persisted, in spite of all that could be said, in
residing in her castle of Libokovo. The population, whom she had cruelly
oppressed, demanded her death, but no one dared attack her. Superstition
declared that the spirit of her mother, with whom she kept up a
mysterious communication even beyond the portals of the grave, watched
over her safety. The menacing form of Kamco had, it was said, appeared
to several inhabitants of Tepelen, brandishing bones of the wretched
Kardikiotes, and demanding fresh victims with loud cries. The desire of
vengeance had urged some to brave these unknown dangers, and twice, a
warrior, clothed in black, had warned them back, forbidding them to lay
hands on a sacrilegious woman; whose punishment Hea