"No," repeated the three ulemas. "No, you will not, you shall not,
pay this tax!"

Then suddenly, as if inspired by the bold words of the four
prisoners, the men held themselves more erect, and, looking
threateningly at Mohammed and at the soldiers, repeated what the
ulemas had said. "No, we will not, we will not pay the tschorbadji
the double tax! We will pay neither the double nor the simple tax!"

"Good! you have spoken," said Mohammed. "Your fate is decided, and
that of these men also!--Collectors, lock the door."

Masa uttered a cry, and, rushing to Mohammed, clung wildly to his
knees.

"Mercy, lord, have mercy! Think of your own father, think of your
mother! If you have a mother that you love, oh, think of her!"

He pushed her roughly and hastily from him. That word pierced his
heart like a knife, and still he dared not listen to it.

There was a threatening murmur among the men, and several sought to
press forward, but the collectors threatened them with instant death
if they came forward a single step.

Two of the soldiers approached the young girl to carry her out.

"Let no one dare touch me, or I will throw myself on your swords!"
she cried. "If I must go, I will do so. But on you be the blood of
my father if it is shed! I tell you, if you murder him, I will die