Ali had long cherished a violent passion for Zobeide, the wife of his
son Veli Pacha. Having vainly attempted to gratify it after his son's
departure, and being indignantly repulsed, he had recourse to drugs, and
the unhappy Zobeide remained in ignorance of her misfortune until she
found she was pregnant. Then, half-avowals from her women, compelled to
obey the pacha from fear of death, mixed with confused memories of her
own, revealed the whole terrible truth. Not knowing in her despair which
way to turn, she wrote to Ali, entreating him to visit the harem. As
head of the family, he had a right to enter, being supposed responsible
for the conduct of his sons' families, no-law-giver having hitherto
contemplated the possibility of so disgraceful a crime. When he
appeared, Zobeide flung herself at his feet, speechless with grief. Ali
acknowledged his guilt, pleaded the violence of his passion, wept with
his victim, and entreating her to control herself and keep silence,
promised that all should be made right. Neither the prayers nor tears of
Zobeide could induce him to give up the intention of effacing the traces
of his first crime by a second even more horrible.

But the story was already whispered abroad, and Pacho Bey learnt all its
details from the spies he kept in Janina. Delighted at the prospect of
avenging himself on the father, he hastened with his news to the son.
Veli Pacha, furious, vowed vengeance, and demanded Pacho Bey's help,
which was readily promised. But Ali had been warned, and was not a man
to be taken unawares. Pacho Bey, whom Veli had just promoted to the
office of sword-bearer, was attacked in broad daylight by six emissaries
sent from Janina. He obtained timely help, however, and five of the
assassins, taken red-handed, were at once hung without ceremony in the
market-place. The sixth was the messenger whose arrival with the news
had caused such dismay at Ali's banquet.