Yet all this pomp was utterly eclipsed by the splendour which radiated
from the new Padishah; he seemed enveloped in a shower of pearls and
diamonds. Whichever way he turned the roses embroidered on his dress,
the girdle which encircled his loins, the clasp of his turban, and every
weapon about him seemed to scatter rainbow sparks, so that those who
gazed at him were dazzled into blindness before they could catch a
glimpse of his face.
Behind the back of the throne, flashing with carbuncles as large as
nuts, stood a whole army of ministering servants with their heads
plunged deep in their girdles.
It was into this room that Halil entered.
On the threshold his two conductors released his arm, and Halil advanced
alone towards the Padishah.
His face was not a whit the paler than at other times, he stepped forth
as boldly and gazed around him as confidently as ever.
His dress, too, was just the same as hitherto--a simple Janissary
mantle, a blue dolman with divided sleeves, without any ornament, a
short salavari, or jerkin, reaching to the knee, leaving the lower part
of the legs bare, and the familiar roundish kuka on his head.
As he passed through the long apartment he cast a glance upon the
dignitaries sitting around the throne, and there was not one among them
who could withstand the fire of his gaze. With head erect he advanced
in front of the Sultan, and placing his muscular, half-naked foot on the
footstool before the throne stood there, for a moment, like a figure
cast in bronze, a crying contrast to all this tremulous pomp and
obsequious splendour.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161