alone, as he was no more his servant, but a Mussulman, and required that the chancery should be opened, and themselves allowed to fulfil the will of the pasha. My lord, not being able to do otherwise, sent to the secretary, and asked him secretly whether those things (meaning the original documents) of which he well knew were in security? He, as he sat at cards, bid my lord, in answer, not to be anxious, and also coming himself to my lord, gave him a token that all was secure; and, indeed, it pleased the Lord God for our sins to deprive him of all recollection.
When, therefore, the chiaouses required the chancery to be opened, my lord ordered his secretary so to do, entered with them himself, and continually reproached the knave, teasing him, and saying that he would find important secrets, and would thereby obtain great favour with the pasha, or with the Sultan, asking him, also, to impart some of them to him. He also scornfully advised him to be sure and search well, saying that he trusted the Lord God, and felt sure he would find nothing suspicious, and told him that he (my lord the ambassador) wished to bring him to such a point, that for such lying information, and for the insult which was inflicted upon an ambassador, he should be punished, and hoisted on a hook.
In answer to this the wretched renegade said nothing but, “Only let me look!” And my lord replied to him “Thou findest that thou drankest thy last cup in Silesia.”[1] When the chancery was opened, he
- ↑ I can find no explanation of this, which is evidently a proverbial expression. The German translator seems to have found it as difficult as myself, and has simply omitted it.
I
