"What dost thou say, my son?" he then condescended to ask.
"The people of Stambul have risen in revolt."
"The people of Stambul, eh? What sort of people? Do you mean the
cobblers, the hucksters, the fishermen, and the bakers?"
"Yes, sir, they have all risen in revolt."
"Very well, I'll be there directly and tell them to be quiet."
"Oh, sir, you speak as if you could extinguish the burning city with
this watering-can. The will of Allah be done!"
But the Kapudan Pasha, with a merry heart, kept on watering the
transplanted tulips till he had done it thoroughly, and entrusted them
to four bostanjis, bidding them carry the flowers through the canal to
the Sultan's palace at Scutari, while he had his horse saddled and
without the slightest escort trotted quite alone into Stambul, where at
that very moment they were crying loudly for his head.
On the way thither, he came face to face with the Kiaja coming in a
wretched, two-wheeled kibitka, with a Russian coachman sitting in front
of him to hide him as much as possible from the public view. He bellowed
to the Kapudan Pasha not to go to Stambul as death awaited him there. At
this the Kapudan Pasha simply shrugged his shoulders. What an idea! To
be frightened of an army of bakers and cobblers indeed! It was sheer
nonsense, so he tried to persuade the Kiaja to turn back again with him
and restore order by showing themselves to the rioters, whereupon the
latter vehemently declared that not for all the joys of Paradise would
he do so, and begged his Russian coachman to hasten on towards Scutari
as rapidly as possible.
Pages:
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117