One of the Six Hundred: A Novel

Mahommedan rosary, of ninety-nine sandalwood beads. Save that his intensely black eyes had under their impending brows a keen and hawk-like expression, his appearance was neither unpleasing nor undignified. His cheekbones were somewhat prominent; he had the organs of locality largely defined, and his forehead was high, but receding. A Turkish soldier, an onbashi, or corporal of the Hadjee Mehmet's corps, had just preferred some request as we entered; and on learning that we had come to see a trial of his power at the seance, or whatever else he was pleased to call it, he invited us all into an inner apartment which opened off the _divan hanee_. It was lighted by four lamps, suspended from the ceiling, each with a large tassel below it. From these lamps flickered four flames, which emitted a strange mephitic odour. The chamber had been recently whitewashed; the doors and windows were all bordered by arabesques in black and red, and with elaborate sentences from the Koran, which I afterwards learned to be the following:-- "If they accuse thee of imposture, the apostles before thee have also been accounted impostors, who brought evident demonstrations, and the book which enlighteneth the understanding." "They will ask thee concerning the spirit; answer, the spirit was created at the command of my Lord; but ye have no knowledge given unto you, except a little." "This is light added unto light. God will direct His light unto whom He pleaseth."[*] [*] Al Koran, chapters iii., xvii., and xxiv. In the centre was a table covered by a crimson cloth, on which stood a species of altar, formed of brass, about two feet high, supported by four monstrous figures, the description of which is beyond the power of language, and before it lay the Koran, open, and from its leaves depended fifty-four flesh-coloured ribbons, with leaden seals attached to them, being one for every two of the chapters of that remarkable book. Near this lay a rod of strangely-sculptured bronze, which was known to have been found in one of the six great cavern tombs that stand in the pass of Bibou-el-Melek at Thebes, by the side of a mummy, which was alleged to be that of a royal magician, for in those tombs lie the Egyptian kings of the eighteenth and nineteenth dynasties. Several bright green chameleons from Alexandria, which were perpetually crawling about this altar, and turning from their natural colour to red, blue, and white, according to the hue of anything they approached, added to the _diablerie_ of this scene, which soon became rather exciting. My own share in this adventure was so remarkable, that I came away with but a slight recollection of the part borne in it by my companions. Indeed, I was the second person on whom he attempted to impose, if his singular mode of summoning, or spirit rapping, could be termed an imposition. The first to whom he addressed himself was the Turkish soldier with whom we had found him in conversation. The onbashi wished to know if his mother, Ayesha, widow of Abdallah Ebn Said, who dwelt at Adramyt, was well, and gave the hakim his fee--ten piastres--a large sum, no doubt, for the poor Osmanli warrior, who gazed about with considerable uneasiness, though the unabashed bearing of the Frenchmen might have reassured him; and I heard Jolicoeur whispering to Baudeuf that he had a dozen times seen just such a magical tableau at the Mabille and Porte St. Martin--_diable--oui!_--and had hissed it off, that he might have Mogador or Fleur d'Amour on with their dances. "Ayesha, widow of Abdallah Ebn Said," muttered the hakim. "A lucky name--it was borne by one of the four perfect women who are now in Paradise." Opening a gilt door in his little cabinet or altar, the hakim brought forth a large clam-shell and two phials of a dark liquid. He wrote that verse of the Koran which I have quoted from chapter xvii., concerning the spirit, on a strip of parchment; then, pouring pure water over it, he washed it into the hollow of the shell; thus its sentiment and spirit were supposed to become a component part of the charm about to be wrought. He then desired the onbashi to turn to the east, and pray (for religion evidently bore a great part in all his mummery), and next he summoned me to look into the shell, which he held in his left hand, while waving over it his bronze rod seven times--the mystical number. I steadily gazed into the liquid, which a few drops from the phial had turned to a pale purple tint, but saw--nothing. She did not appear. Thrice she was summoned, but in vain. The hakim tugged his beard, frowned, and reddened with vexation, and emptied his shell, pouring the liquid carefully through a hole in the floor. "My poor mother, then, is dead?" said the corporal, sadly, crossing his hands on his breast. "Stafferillah! nay, do not think so," said the hakim, kindly. "Why, effendi?" "Because, in that case, the liquid would become as black as the holy Kaaba." "But she did not appear?" "This is an unlucky day, my son." "Why so for me, if not for others? I never omit to wash and pray; and yesterday, O hakim, you showed strange things to the Franks, filling all their khans and coffee-houses with wonder." "True; but go. Thou art one of the faithful. To the infidels all days are alike," replied the hakim, with a very unmistakable scowl at Jolicoeur and Baudeuf. "Doth not the Prophet say, 'Their works are like unto vapour in a plain, which the traveller thinketh to be water, until when he cometh thereto he findeth it to be nothing?'" "Allah kerim!" said the onbashi, putting his right hand to his forehead, his mouth, and his heart, and stalking solemnly away. Jolicoeur was pressing forward to summon his friend Sophie, no doubt, or perhaps some other gay damsel, when the hakim, who evidently disliked his scoffing smile and general bearing, ignored his presence, and said to me-- "Effendi, in what can I serve you?" I felt the blood rush to my head, and in a whisper I mentioned to him Louisa Loftus. I was loth that my fast companions should hear her name, and make, perhaps, a jest of it. The hakim's fee was, I have said, ten piastres; but as I gave him above a hundred--or equal to a guinea sterling--there were no words to express his thanks in Egyptian or Turkish; he could only mutter, again and again-- "Shookier Allah! May God reward you!" Again he produced his clam-shell, the surface of which I carefully surveyed, while with great alacrity he wrote a verse from the Koran. The shell was clear and pure; no picture, line, or drawing could be detected on its pearly surface. Again he went through his mummery with the phials, and washed off the ink into the shell; again, as before, the liquid grew purple, and again he waved his rod of bronze. "You wish to see her you love?" he whispered, with something of a licentious leer in his keen black eyes; "she who is to be your hanoum (wife or lady)?" "Yes, effendi," said I, blushing like a great schoolboy, in spite of myself, all the more that I saw Jack Studhome's handkerchief at his mouth. Fixing his keen eyes with something of sternness upon Jules Jolicoeur, whom he had suddenly detected in the act of mimicking him, the bearded hakim summoned him forward, and desired him to look into the shell, and tell us what he saw. Abd-el-Rasig then turned to the east, and proceeded to pray and invoke in an inaudible voice. I was four paces from the Zouave lieutenant, whose eyes, as he gazed into the shell, became dilated and fixed with astonishment, while his whole features, which were handsome, expressed something akin to fear. "_Merveilleuse! mon Dieu! merveilleuse!_" he exclaimed. "Do you see anything, monsieur?" I asked, with growing excitement. "Yes--yes--_oui, peste_!" "In heaven's name what do you see?" "A lady!" "A lady?" "Yes; the face of a lady, young, and very gentle. It is pale; her eyes are dark, her hair thick and jetty--it seems almost blue in this purple shell. Her eyebrows and lashes are thick," he continued, speaking very fast. "She has an expression of intense sadness--ban Dieu!--she is like a sorrowing angel." "Her nose is aquiline?" I suggested. "On the contrary, it is neat and small, but not quite _retrousse_. She moves--_merveilleuse!_--tears--she is weeping! On her breast there is a silver crescent; and now--now--the whole thing fades away!" I was springing forward, when the hakim waved me imperiously back with his bronze rod, and instantly poured the contents of the shell on the tiled floor, from which a strange mephitic odour rose. This was not the case on the previous unsuccessful occasion. Jules, who had become quite grave, now turned eagerly, and full of interest, to me. "Is this the lady whose face you saw?" I asked, showing him the miniature of Louisa. "No, monsieur; there is not the least resemblance." "Indeed!" "I am somewhat of an artist, and know." "You are sure?" "Sure as I now address you, monsieur." I began to smile. "I have said that her eyes seemed dark, nearly as these. Her hair was black, thick, and wavy, but her nose and features were all smaller--more (pardon me, monsieur) feminine, perhaps--less decided in character, certainly; and on her breast she had a crescent of silver." "A crescent!" "Yes, monsieur, with a lion above it. The ornament seemed to fasten or adorn the dress, and I saw it distinctly till she placed her hand upon it, and then the water in the shell rippled. It is positively miraculous," he added, turning to Captain Baudeuf, who was twirling his moustache and smiling with obstinate incredulity. The latter details petrified me. Jolicoeur's description was completely that of my cousin, Cora Calderwood. The crescent and lion was a gift I had sent her from India--a double ornament I had picked up in the great pagoda at Rangoon, and which she always wore, preferring it to her father's crest and every other brooch. "Are you satisfied, effendi?" asked the hakim, quietly, for he seemed used to astonishment on such occasions. "I am bewildered, at all events, hakim," said I. "Why so?" "It was not she I asked for or whom I named." "How do you know? You did not see. Another looked with your eyes." "True--but what does the vision portend?" "You asked to see her----" "I loved, hakim," said I, emphatically. "Nay, she who--if Allah and the Muscovite dogs spare you--is to be your wife, your _hanoum_. Do you not remember? Go! _Allah Kerim_! it is _kismet_--your destiny. The destinies of all, and the hour in which we are to die--yea, the very moment--are written by the finger of Azrael on our foreheads at our birth--on yours also, although you believe neither in Azrael[*] nor the Prophet. Go! the mark is there, although we see it not." [*] The Mahommedan Angel of Death. With those rather solemn words ringing in my ears, bewildered and thoroughly startled, I found myself traversing the streets of Varna with Studhome, while the French drummers were beating _la retraite_ as the sun went down beyond those mountains that were then echoing with the cannon of Silistria, and while the shrill voices of the muezzins proclaimed the hour of evening prayer from the minarets of the mosques, into which the Moslems were pouring, with bowed heads and bare feet, to count their beads. *CHAPTER XXXII.* Sleep by evil spirits troubled, Fleeing at the matin bell; Fears that start to eyes scarce waking, Sighs that will not quit her cell. As from a dream I was roused at last by Jack Studhome proffering his cigar-case, and saying, with a smile--