CHAPTER XIV
The name of the old man was De Lacey. He was descended from a good family in France,
where he had lived for many years in affluence, respected by his superiors and beloved by his
equals. His son was bred in the service of his country; and Agatha had ranked with ladies of
the highest distinction. A few months before my arrival they had lived in a large and luxurious city
called Paris, surrounded by friends, and possessed of every enjoyment which virtue, refinement
of intellect, or taste, accompanied by a moderate fortune, could afford.
The father of Safie had been the cause of their ruin. He was a Turkish merchant, and had
inhabited Paris for many years,when, for some reason which I could not learn, he became
obnoxious to the government. He was seized and cast into prison the very day that Safie
arrived from Constantinople to join him. He was tried and condemned to death. The injustice of
his sentence was very flagrant; all Paris was indignant; and it was judged that his religion and
wealth, rather than the crime alleged against him, had been the cause of his condemnation.
Felix had accidentally been present at the trial; his horror and indignation were uncontrollable
when he heard the decision of the court. He made, at that moment, a solemn vow to deliver him,
and then looked around for the means. After many fruitless attempts to gain admittance to the
prison, he found a strongly grated window in an unguarded part of the building which lighted the
dungeon of the unfortunate Mahometan; who, loaded with chains, waited in despair the
execution of the barbarous sentence. Felix visited the grate at night, and made known to the
prisoner his intentions in his favour. The Turk, amazed and delighted, endeavoured to kindle the
zeal of his deliverer by promises of reward and wealth. Felix rejected his offers with contempt;
yet when he saw the lovely Safie, who was allowed to visit her father, and who, by her gestures,
expressed her lively gratitude, the youth could not help owning to his own mind that the captive
possessed a treasure which would fully reward his toil and hazard.
The Turk quickly perceived the impression that his daughter had made on the heart of Felix, and
endeavoured to secure him more entirely in his interests by the promise of her hand in marriage,
so soon as he should be conveyed to a place of safety. Felix was too delicate to accept this
offer; yet he looked forward to the probability of the event as to the consummation of his
happiness.
During the ensuing days, while the preparations were going forward for the escape of the
merchant, the zeal of Felix was warmed by several letters that he received from this lovely girl,
who found means to express her thoughts in the language of her lover by the aid of an old man,
a servant of her father, who understood French. She thanked him in the most ardent terms for
his intended services towards her parent; and at the same time deeply deplored her own fate.
I have copies of these letters; for I found means, during my residence in the hovel, to procure the
implements of writing; and the letters were often in the hands of Felix or Agatha. Before I depart,
I will give them to you, they will prove the truth of my tale; but at present, as the sun is already far
declined, I shall only have time to repeat the substance of them to you.
Safie related that her mother was a Christian Arab, seized and made a slave by the Turks;
recommended by her beauty, she had won the heart of the father of Safie, who married her. The
young girl spoke in high and enthusiastic terms of her mother, who, born in freedom, spumed
the bondage to which she was now reduced. She instructed her daughter in the tenets of her
religion, and taught her to aspire to higher powers of intellect, and an independence of spirit,
forbidden to the female followers of Mahomet. This lady died; but her lessons were indelibly
impressed on the mind of Safie, who sickened at the prospect of again returning to Asia and
being immured within the walls of a harem, allowed only to occupy herself with infantile
amusements, ill suited to the temper of her soul, now accustomed to grand ideas and a noble
emulation for virtue. The prospect of marrying a Christian, and remaining in a country where
women were allowed to take a rank in society, was enchanting to her.
The day for the execution of the Turk was fixed; but, on the night previous to it, he quitted his
prison, and before morning was distant many leagues from Paris. Felix had procured passports
in the name of his father, sister, and himself. He had previously communicated his plan to the
former, who aided the deceit by quitting his house, under the pretence of a journey, and
concealed himself, with his daughter, in an obscure part of Paris.
Felix conducted the fugitives through France to Lyons, and across Mont Cenis to Leghorn, where
the merchant had decided to wait a favourable opportunity of passing into some part of the
Turkish dominions.
Safie resolved to remain with her father until the moment of his departure, before which time the
Turk renewed his promise that she should be united to his deliverer; and Felix remained with
them in expectation of that event; and in the meantime he enjoyed the society of the Arabian,
who exhibited towards him the simplest and tenderest affection. They conversed with one
another through the means of an interpreter, and sometimes with the interpretation of looks; and
Safie sang to him the divine airs of her native country.
The Turk allowed this intimacy to take place, and encouraged the hopes of the youthful lovers,
while in his heart he had formed far other plans. He loathed the idea that his daughter should be
united to a Christian; but he feared the resentment of Felix, if he should appear luke-warm; for
he knew that he was still in the power of his deliverer, if he should choose to betray him to the
Italian state which they inhabited. He revolved a thousand plans by which he should be enabled
to prolong the deceit until it might be no longer necessary, and secretly to take his daughter with
him when he departed. His plans were facilitated by the news which arrived from Paris.
The government of France were greatly enraged at the escape of their victim, and spared no
pains to detect and punish his deliverer. The plot of Felix was quickly discovered, and De Lacey
and Agatha were thrown into prison. The news reached Felix, and roused him from his dream of
pleasure. His blind and aged father, and his gentle sister, lay in a noisome dungeon, while he
enjoyed the free air and the society of her whom he loved. This idea was torture to him. He
quickly arranged with the Turks that if the latter should find a favourable opportunity for escape
before Felix could return to Italy, Safie should remain as a boarder at a convent at Leghorn; and
then, quitting the lovely Arabian, he hastened to Paris, and delivered himself up to the
vengeance of the law, hoping to free De Lacey and Agatha by this proceeding.
He did not succeed. They remained confined for five months before the trial took place; the
result of which deprived them of their fortune, and condemned them to a perpetual exile from
their native country.
They found a miserable asylum in the cottage in Germany where I discovered them. Felix soon
learned that the treacherous Turk, for whom he and his family endured such unheard-of
oppression, on discovering that his deliverer was thus reduced to poverty and ruin, became a
traitor to good feeling and honour, and had quitted Italy with his daughter, insultingly sending
Felix a pittance of money, to aid him, as he said, in some plan of future maintenance.
Such were the events that preyed on the heart of Felix, and rendered him, when I first saw him,
the most miserable of his family. He could have endured poverty; and while this distress had
been the meed of his virtue, he gloried in it: but the ingratitude of the Turk, and the loss of his
beloved Safie, were misfortunes more bitter and irreparable. The arrival of the Arabian now
infused new life into his soul.
When the news reached Leghorn that Felix was deprived of his wealth and rank, the merchant
commanded his daughter to think no more of her lover, but to prepare to return to her native
country. The generous nature of Safie was outraged by this command; she attempted to
expostulate with her father, but he left her angrily, reiterating his tyrannical mandate.
A few days after, the Turk entered his daughter's apartment, and told her hastily that he had
reason to believe that his residence at Leghorn had been divulged, and that he should speedily
be delivered up to the French government; he had, consequently, hired a vessel to convey him to
Constantinople, for which city he should sail in a few hours. He intended to leave his daughter
under the care of a confidential servant, to follow at her leisure with the greater part of his
property, which had not yet arrived at Leghorn.
When alone, Safie resolved in her own mind the plan of conduct that it would become her to
pursue in this emergency. A residence in Turkey was abhorrent to her; her religion and her
feelings were alike adverse to it. By some papers of her father, which fell into her hands, she
heard of the exile of her lover, and learnt the name of the spot where he then resided. She
hesitated some time, but at length she formed her determination. Taking with her some jewels
that belonged to her, and a sum of money, she quitted Italy with an attendant, a native of
Leghorn, but who understood the common language of Turkey, and departed for Germany.
She arrived in safety at a town about twenty leagues from the cottage of De Lacey, when her
attendant fell dangerously ill. Safie nursed her with the most devoted affection; but the poor girl
died, and the Arabian was left alone, unacquainted with the language of the country, and utterly
ignorant of the customs of the world. She fell, however, into good hands. The Italian had
mentioned the name of the spot for which they were bound and, after her death, the woman of
the house in which they had lived took care that Safie should arrive in safety at the cottage of her
lover.
Some time elapsed before I learned the history of my friends. It was one which could not fail to
impress itself deeply on my mind, unfolding as it did a number of circumstances, each
interesting and wonderful to one so utterly inexperienced as I was.