This
was a treasure filched from the garden of the Dalai Lama. It was
snow-white, without the slightest nuance of any other colour, and of
such full bloom that the original six petals were obliged to bend
downwards.
The Kapudan Pasha was enraptured by all this splendour.
He had made up his mind to present all these tulips to the Sultan, for
which he would no doubt receive a rich viceroyalty, perhaps even Egypt,
who could tell. He therefore ordered that costly china vases should be
brought to him in which he might transplant the flowers, and he dug with
his hands deep down in the soil lest he should injure the bulbs.
Just as he was kneeling down in the midst of the tulips, with his hands
all covered with mould, a breathless bostanji came rushing towards him
at full speed, quite out of breath, and without waiting to get up to
him, exclaimed while still a good distance off:
"Sir, sir, rise up quickly, for all Stambul is in a commotion."
"Take care!--don't tread upon my tulips, you blockhead; don't you see
that you nearly trampled upon one of them!"
"Oh, my master! tulips bloom every year, but if you trample a man to
death, Mashallah! he will rise no more. Hasten, for the rioters are
already turning the city upside down!"
The Kapudan Pasha very gently, very cautiously, placed the flower, which
he had raised with both hands, in the porcelain vase, and pressed the
earth down on every side of it so that it might keep steady when
carried.
Pages:
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116