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an occurrence? Does not the plague rage each year in Stamboul? What wonder,
that this year, when as we are told, its virulence is unexampled in Asia,
that it should have occasioned double havoc in that city? What wonder then,
in time of siege, want, extreme heat, and drought, that it should make
unaccustomed ravages? Less wonder far is it, that the garrison, despairing
of being able to hold out longer, should take advantage of the negligence
of our fleet to escape at once from siege and capture. It is not pestilence
--by the God that lives! it is not either plague or impending danger that
makes us, like birds in harvest-time, terrified by a scarecrow, abstain
from the ready prey--it is base superstition--And thus the aim of the
valiant is made the shuttlecock of fools; the worthy ambition of the
high-souled, the plaything of these tamed hares! But yet Stamboul shall be
ours! By my past labours, by torture and imprisonment suffered for them, by
my victories, by my sword, I swear--by my hopes of fame, by my former
deserts now awaiting their reward, I deeply vow, with these hands to plant
the cross on yonder mosque!"
"
Dearest Raymond!" interrupted Perdita, in a supplicating accent.
He had been walking to and fro in the marble hall of the seraglio; his very
lips were pale with rage, while, quivering, they shaped his angry words--
his eyes shot fire--his gestures seemed restrained by their very
vehemence. "Perdita," he continued, impatiently, "I know what you would
say; I know that you love me, that you are good and gentle; but this is no
woman's work--nor can a female heart guess at the hurricane which tears
me!"
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