Bacri, the chief of the Jews, proved as good as his word.

 

By means of a golden lever he moved some one, who moved some one else, who moved the Dey to make certain inquiries about the slaves in the Bagnio, which resulted in his making the discovery that Lucien Rimini was a first-rate linguist and an excellent scribe.

 

Immediately he was commanded to fill the office of scrivano to the Dey—that post being vacant in consequence of the previous secretary having given his master some offence, for which he had had his head cut off.

 

But Lucien’s elevation did not necessarily improve the condition of his father and brother. The Dey cared only for those slaves who made themselves useful to him; their relations he utterly ignored, unless they succeeded in gaining his regard. The Sicilians had too much common-sense to expect any great immediate advantage from the change, nevertheless, the slight hope which had been aroused by this event enabled the two who were left in the Bagnio to endure their lot with greater fortitude and resignation. As for Lucien, he resolved to win the Dey’s esteem in order to be able to influence him in favour of his father and brother.

 

“We must learn to submit, my son,” said Francisco, one evening, while he and Mariano were finishing the last crumbs of the black bread which constituted their morning and evening meals.

 

“I admit it, father,” said Mariano, with a long-drawn sigh. “Bacri was right; but it’s not easy to bear. For myself, I think I could stand their insults and their lash better if they would only spare you, but when I see the villains strike you as they did to-day—oh, father!”—Mariano flushed and clenched his hands—“it makes me so wild that I feel as though the blood would burst my veins. You cannot wonder that I find it impossible to submit.”

 

“God bless you, boy,” said Francisco, laying his hand on the youth’s shoulder; “I understand your feelings—nevertheless it were well that you learned to restrain them, for rebellion only works evil. You saw what was the consequence of your attacking the man who struck me to-day—you got knocked down and bastinadoed, and I—”

 

Francisco paused.

 

“Yes, go on, father, I know what you mean.”

 

“Well, I would not hurt your feelings by mentioning it—as you say, you know what I mean.”

 

“You mean,” said Mariano, “that in consequence of my violence they gave you an additional flogging. True, father, true; and that is the one thing that will now enable me to suffer in silence.”

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