"So," said he, "there's a new tax imposed upon all those who cross the Bosphorus?"
"By proclamation of the Muchir," replied the chief of police. "But," he added, "surely the rich Kéraban is not complaining of it?"
"Yes, the rich Kéraban," replied that individual.
"And you are quite well, Seigneur Kéraban, I hope?"
"Quite well; as well as taxes will permit. Now, is this tax already imposed?"
"Certainly. Since the proclamation was issued."
"And if I wish to go across to Scutari this evening in my caïque, as I usually do—"
"You must pay ten paras."
"And as I cross the Bosphorus every morning and evening—"
"That will cost you twenty paras a day," replied the chief of police. "A mere nothing for the rich Seigneur Kéraban."
"Indeed!" was the answer.
"My master will get into some scrape," muttered Nizib to Bruno.
"He must give way though, eventually," said Bruno.
"He—give way? You don't know him yet," replied Nizib.
Meanwhile, Seigneur Kéraban, folding his arms and staring into the very soul of the chief of the police, appeared to be working himself up into a nice little passion. He spoke at length in a voice in which his irritation was very evident.
"Well, there is my boatman, who has come to tell me that my caïque is waiting for me; and as my friend Van Mitten, and my servant and his will accompany me—"
"You will have to pay forty paras," replied the officer; "and, as I said before, you can very easily afford such a trifle."
"That I have the means to pay forty paras, or a hundred, or a thousand, or a hundred thousand is nothing to the purpose," replied Kéraban. "But I will pay nothing, and I will cross just the same."
