"What! a new tax?" said Ahmet, who at once comprehended the situation, and that his uncle had had some discussion in which his obstinacy had refused to give way: hence his departure from Constantinople.
"Yes," exclaimed Kéraban, working himself into a pitch of excitement. "Just as I was about to cross in my caïque to dine at Scutari with my friend Van Mitten, this tax was ordained. Naturally I refused to pay it. The officials refused to let me pass. I said that I knew how to reach Scutari without crossing the Bosphorus. They said I could not: I replied that I could. And so I will, by Allah! I would rather have my hand cut off than pay those ten paras. No, by Mahomet, they do not know Kéraban!"
Evidently they did not know Kéraban. But Selim, Ahmet, Van Mitten, and Amasia knew him; and they perceived that, after what had passed, all their efforts to change his resolution would be in vain. There was no use in attempting to argue the point. Discussion would have only led to complications. They must accept the situation, and without any consultation it was accepted unanimously.
"After all, you are right, uncle," said Ahmet.
"Quite right," added Selim.
"I am always right," replied Kéraban modestly.
"One ought to resist such iniquitous imposts," continued Ahmet, "even though it cost you a fortune."
"Even my life," said Kéraban.
"You have done well to refuse payment, and to show that you can reach Scutari from Constantinople without crossing the Bosphorus."
"And without paying ten paras," added Kéraban; "even though the alternative cost me five hundred thousand!"
"But you are not absolutely compelled to leave here at once, I suppose," said Ahmet persuasively.
"Absolutely compelled, nephew," replied Kéraban. "I suppose you are aware that I must return in less than six weeks."
"Quite so, uncle—so you can give us eight days in Odessa."
