"
"They may kill me," cried Halil, striking his bosom with both hands and
boldly stepping forward--"they may kill me it is true, but they shall
never be able to say that I was afraid of them. They may tear my limbs
to pieces, but when it comes to be recorded in the Chronicles that the
rabble of Constantinople were cowards, it shall be recorded at the same
time that, nevertheless, there was one man among them who could not only
talk about death but could look it fairly between the eyes when it
appeared before him."
"Listen, Halil! I and many more like me are capable of looking into the
very throat of loaded cannons. Many is the time, too, that I have seen
sharp swords drawn against me, and no lance that ever hath left the
smith's hand can boast that I have so much as winked an eye before its
glittering point. But what is the use of valour in a place where you
know that the very ground beneath your feet has Hell beneath it, and it
only needs a spark no bigger than that which flashes from a man's eye
when he has received a buffet, and we shall all fly into the air. Why,
even if both our hands were full of swords and pistols, not one of them
could protect us--so who would wish to be brave there?"
"Have I invited thee to come? Did I not say that I would go alone?"
"But we won't let thee go. What art thou thinking about? If they destroy
thee there we shall be without a leader, and we shall fall to pieces and
perish like the rush-roof of a cottage when the joists are suddenly
pulled from beneath it.
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