“Turan, my love, how good of you to come!”
Turan was leaning over his fiancée to give her a kiss; Doctor Resuhî Bey intercepted him with a swift motion and said:
“No, not yet. Hold her hand; it will comfort her more!” Turan held that dear hand and knelt beside her bed. At that moment Sadan looked as fresh and beautiful as an angel.
However, slowly her eyes closed and she fell asleep. For a brief moment she breathed lightly; her chest rose and fell like a tired child’s. Then there came that strange change in her face which I had noticed on my watch. Her breathing grew stertorous, the mouth opened, and the pale gums, drawn back, made the teeth appear longer and sharper than ever. She opened her eyes, half-awake, half-asleep; those eyes which a moment before shone like an angel’s were now both glassy and hard. With a soft, voluptuous voice that I had never heard from her lips, she said:
“Oh, Turan, my lover, I am glad you have come… Kiss me, kiss me!”
Turan leaned over his lover for a kiss; but at that moment Resuhî Bey swooped upon him like an eagle upon its prey, clutched him by the shoulders with a strength I never thought he could have possessed, and hurled him across the room.
“Do not dare, for your life and the safety of her soul!”
The old professor roared these words and stood before Turan. Turan was so taken aback that for a minute he could not speak. And although a momentary cloud of anger passed over his face, he thought better of it and contained himself. Both Doctor Resuhî Bey and I turned our eyes to Sadan. We saw a spasm as of rage and hatred flit like a shadow over her face; the sharp teeth champed together. Then her eyes began to close and her difficult breathing began again. It was not five minutes later when Sadan reopened her eyes, but this time her face once more had a sweet, angelic glow. The poor girl reached out her thin, weak arm, held Doctor Resuhî Bey’s large, dark hands, and kissed them with respect and gratitude. Then, in a faint voice, but with unspeakable pathos:
“Ah, a true friend to Turan and me!” she said. “Protect and comfort him!”
The old professor knelt beside her, and in a deep and majestic voice said:
“I swear it!” He then turned to Turan: “Come, my son, take her hand and kiss her on the forehead, but only once.”
Turan kissed his lover’s forehead, and Sadan’s eyes closed slowly. Resuhî Bey, who was now watching S
adan, held Turan’s arm and took him outside. When he returned, her breathing became more stertorous. Then, suddenly, it ceased. The old doctor, in a faint voice, said:
“It is all over… She is dead!”
When I opened the door, I saw Turan on his knees, sobbing. I hurried back into the room. Resuhî Bey was examining her face with a stern and grim expression. How strange! Death had returned this poor girl’s beauty. Her face and lips became pink and almost rejuvenated. I stood beside the professor:
“Poor child,” I said. “At least she finally found peace; her suffering has ended.”
The professor shook his head solemnly:
“Not so, not so! We are at the beginning of pain and trouble.”
I asked what he meant, and he only said:
“We can do nothing as yet. Wait and see.”
CHAPTER VIII
FROM DOCTOR AFIF BEY’S DIARY—continued.
A strange thing: Doctor Resuhî Bey’s behavior has taken a mysterious turn. In particular, the look he gave the poor, gentle, innocent Sadan after her death appeared almost spiteful. Of course, I could not expect Resuhî Bey to shed many tears, since he had not loved this precious girl as I had. However, although the old professor behaved strangely from time to time and held some fantastical beliefs, he now became even more peculiar.
After Sadan and her mother’s funerals, Resuhî Bey said in a grave and thoughtful tone:
“We will make ourselves comfortable tonight. Unfortunately there is nothing to be done for now, but tomorrow afternoon you will bring me a set of post-mortem knives. And no one must hear of the things I shall tell you.”
“My dear tutor, what must we do now; will we perform an autopsy?”
“Yes and no! I wish to operate, but not as you think. I shall cut off Sadan’s head and remove her heart!”
I thought Doctor Resuhî had suddenly gone mad. He continued with great conviction and composure:
“Look at that, you are among the bravest surgeons, and yet so shocked, eh? You even tremble. I am sorry, my friend Afif, I had forgotten that you loved this poor girl. However, you shall not perform the operation. I shall, and you must only help. In fact, I would like to do it tonight, but for Turan’s sake I must not. He is busy just now with his father’s funeral. Yet it is also necessary that he not see Sadan. Ah, if only it were possible to open the coffin secretly and perform the operation now.”
I still thought that I was dreaming or that the old professor had gone insane. I said angrily: