第81章

Yes, she had taken her own life--of that, no one now entertained a doubt. She had assuredly thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea. Some boys, who were engaged at night in setting out nets, had seen a white figure alone on the Ear of Bucephalus.

That white figure was certainly Masa. She had thrown herself into the sea in order that she, the free daughter of the sheik, might not be compelled to become a slave and enter the harem of the stranger.

They had sought for the body of the poor girl on the shore and among the cliffs. The sea had, however, been stormy throughout the entire day, and the surging waves must have borne her away into the depths, where she had become a welcome prey to the greedy shark. Nowhere a trace of her; she is surely dead.

The complaints and lamentations of the sheik are also silenced--he reclines motionless on his cushions. Grief and anxiety have made him helpless, and chained him to his couch. He suffers in silence, and his friends hope that death will soon release him from his misery.

And this overbearing stranger, Cousrouf Pacha, is to blame for all this!

He gave himself the appearance of graciously making the fishermen a present of the money to pay the double tax. But he had deceived them. Oh, had they but known that Masa had sold herself for this money, they never would have accepted it! They therefore hate this haughty stranger, and are glad that he is about to leave their coast forever.

The ship still lies quietly at anchor, her streamers flutter gayly in the air, her sides are hung with bright-colored carpets, and garlands of flowers are entwined with her rigging. The ship presents a brilliant spectacle, and it may well be that the pacha is to embark this very evening. But no! Night sinks down, and all remains dark on board the ship, which casts a huge shadow across the waves.

No, Cousrouf Pacha will certainly not embark this evening. The night is dark, and all is still in Praousta and on the sea-shore.

And who would care to be up and abroad at this late hour! Whoever has a hut and a bed, remains at home and does not go out into the night. No, no one is abroad.

But is not that the sound of footsteps that now breaks in upon the stillness of the night?

A dark shadow is gliding along among the cliffs on the shore. Who can say that it is a human being! No star sheds its light on his path--the moon is obscured behind dark clouds. It is perhaps an eagle that has been cast down by the storm, and is now wearily winging its flight across the cliffs. Who can say that it is a man that is gliding among the cliffs? No one sees him; no one can betray him. The shadow now stands still for a moment, and for a single moment the moon breaks forth from behind the dark clouds. It sees the figure, it sees the man who stands there on a rock, his large, luminous eyes gazing anxiously, suspiciously about him, as though he feared betrayal.

The kindly moon has permitted him to take a look at the landscape round about him, and to assure him there is no one in the vicinity to betray him. All is at rest, he alone is awake and abroad. The moon has done enough; it glides behind a dark cloud and conceals itself again.

The waves murmur at the feet of him who has been standing there listening, and he now glides down from the cliff to the opening in the rock. He creeps in at this opening, and on through the narrow passage to the cave, until he can stand upright. He now utters a cry, and his cry is answered in the distance. He stands still and leans against the wall of the cave, overwhelmed either with anxiety or happiness. It is with happiness, for he will find her: she has answered him.