This noisy rhodomontade did not prevent Ali from being consumed with
grief and anxiety. The sight of his own troops, now in the camp of Pacho
Bey, the fear of being for ever separated from his sons, the thought
of his grandson in the enemy's hands, all threw him into the deepest
melancholy, and his sleepless eyes were constantly drowned in tears. He
refused his food, and sat for seven days with untrimmed beard, clad in
mourning, on a mat at the door of his antechamber, extending his hands
to his soldiers, and imploring them to slay him rather than abandon him.
His wives, seeing him in this state, and concluding all was lost, filled
the air with their lamentations. All began to think that grief would
bring Ali to the grave; but his soldiers, to whose protestations he
at first refused any credit, represented to him that their fate was
indissolubly linked with his. Pacho Bey having proclaimed that all taken
in arms for Ali would be shot as sharers in rebellion, it was therefore
their interest to support his resistance with all their power. They also
pointed out that the campaign was already advanced, and that the Turkish
army, which had forgotten its siege artillery at Constantinople, could
not possibly procure any before the end of October, by which time
the rains would begin, and the enemy would probably be short of food.
Moreover, in any case, it being impossible to winter in a ruined town,
the foe would be driven to seek shelter at a distance.

These representations, made with warm conviction, and supported by
evidence, began to soothe the restless fever which was wasting Ali,
and the gentle caresses and persuasions of Basillisa, the beautiful
Christian captive, who had now been his wife for some time, completed
the cure.

At the same time his sister Chainitza gave him an astonishing example
of courage. She had persisted, in spite of all that could be said, in