strong enough to inspire terror, his ruin is certain. Ali received at
Tepelen, where he had retired to more conveniently weave his perfidious
plots, an order to get rid of the pacha. At the receipt of the firman
of execution he leaped with joy, and flew to Delvino to seize the prey
which was abandoned to him.

The noble Selim, little suspecting that his protege had become his
accuser and was preparing to become his executioner, received him with
more tenderness than ever, and lodged him, as heretofore, in his palace.
Under the shadow of this hospitable roof, Ali skilfully prepared
the consummation of the crime which was for ever to draw him out of
obscurity. He went every morning to pay his court to the pacha, whose
confidence he doubted; then, one day, feigning illness, he sent excuses
for inability to pay his respects to a man whom he was accustomed to
regard as his father, and begged him to come for a moment into his
apartment. The invitation being accepted, he concealed assassins in one
of the cupboards without shelves, so common in the East, which contain
by day the mattresses spread by night on the floor for the slaves to
sleep upon. At the hour fixed, the old man arrived. Ali rose from his
sofa with a depressed air, met him, kissed the hem of his robe, and,
after seating him in his place, himself offered him a pipe-and coffee,
which were accepted. But instead of putting the cup in the hand
stretched to receive it, he let it fall on the floor, where it broke
into a thousand pieces. This was the signal. The assassins sprang from
their retreat and darted upon Selim, who fell, exclaiming, like Caesar,
"And it is thou, my son, who takest my life!"

At the sound of the tumult which followed the assassination, Selim's
bodyguard, running up, found Ali erect, covered with blood, surrounded
by assassins, holding in his hand the firman displayed, and crying with