_ 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Peter Scott
 
 AIUL
 
 MOHAMMED All AND 
 HIS HOUSE 
 
 historical Romance 
 
 BY 
 
 L. MUHLBACH 
 
 AUTHOR Of JOSEPH H. AND HIS COURT, FREDERICK THE GREA1 AND HIS COURT, 
 BERLIN AND SANS-SOUCI, THE MERCHANT OF BERLIN, ETC. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY 
 
 CHAPMAN COLEMAN 
 
 FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY , 
 
 NEW YORK AND LONDON 
 1907
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1871, 189S, 
 BY D. APPLETON AND COA1PANY.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 TEARS OF YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER PASB 
 
 I. The Sea 1 
 
 II. Mother and Son 7 
 
 III. Boyish Dreams 17 
 
 IV. Premonition of Death 28 
 
 V. The Story-teller 37 
 
 VI. The Mamelukes 47 
 
 VII. Dreams of the Future 54 
 
 VIII. The Friends 67 
 
 IX. A Soul in the Agonies of Death 72 
 
 X. Cousrouf Pacha 82 
 
 XI. The Revolt 92 
 
 BOOK II. 
 PARADISE AND HELL. 
 
 I. The Flower of Praousta 108 
 
 II. Masa 115 
 
 III. The First Day of Creation 123 
 
 IV. Masa's Jewelry . 135 
 
 V. The Deliverance 142 
 
 VI. The Flight 152 
 
 VII. The Messenger -60 
 
 VIII. Vanished 167 
 
 IX.- Where is she? 17? 
 
 X. The Departure 187 
 
 XL The Triple Oath 195 
 
 XII. The Paradise under the Earth 305 
 
 ill
 
 iv CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 THE MAMELUKES. 
 
 CHAPTER FIGS 
 
 I. Revenge 211 
 
 II. All Things pass away 225 
 
 III. The Bim Bashi 232 
 
 IV. The Embarkation 244 
 
 V. The Camp at Aboukir . . . . . . .250 
 
 VI. The Massacre . 259 
 
 VII. Restitution 269 
 
 VIII. The Viceroy of Egypt 278 
 
 IX. Sitta Nefysseh 287 
 
 X. L'Elfl Bey 297 
 
 XI. The Council of War . . . . . . .306 
 
 XII. The Abduction . 313 
 
 BOOK IV. 
 
 THE VICEROY. 
 
 I. Butheita 319 
 
 II. In the Desert 326 
 
 III. The Agreement . 335 
 
 IV. The Revolt 353 
 
 V. A Strong Heart 363 
 
 VI. Persecution 370 
 
 VII. Money! Pay! 383 
 
 VIII. The Insurrection 392 
 
 IX. Vengeance at Last 400 
 
 X. The Return to Cairo 408 
 
 XI. Mohammed AH and Bardissi 415 
 
 XII. Against the Mamelukes 416 
 
 XIII Love unto Death 429 
 
 XIV. Courschid Pacha 435 
 
 XV. The Tent 440 
 
 XVI. Retribution 448 
 
 XVII. Conclusion 453
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 FACING 
 PAOI 
 
 Portrait of Mohammed All Frontispiece 
 
 Cousrouf Pacha lifts Masa's VN - 147 
 
 The Attack of the Cavalry 842 
 
 The Citadel of Cairo . 400
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 BOOK I. 
 YEARS OF YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE SEA. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL is the sea when it lies at rest in its sublimity, its 
 murmuring waves gently rippling upon the beach, the sky 
 above reflected with a soft light upon its dark bosom. 
 
 Beautiful is the sea when it bears upon its surface the state- 
 ly ships, as though they were rose-leaves caressingly tossed by 
 one wave to another. Beautiful is the sea when the light 
 barks with their red sails are borne slowly onward by the 
 gentle breeze, the careless fishermen casting nets from the 
 decks of their frail craft into the deep, to draw thence, for the 
 nourishment or pleasure of man, its silent inhabitants. Beau- 
 tiful it is when in the darkness of the night, relieved only by 
 the light of the stars, and the moon just rising above the hori- 
 zon, the pirates venture forth in their boats from their lairs on 
 the coast, and glide stealthily along within the shadow of the 
 overhanging cliffs, awaiting an opportunity to rob the fisher- 
 men of their harvest ; or, united in larger numbers, to suddenly 
 surround the stately merchantman, clamber like cats up its 
 sides, murder the sleeping, unsuspecting crew, and put them- 
 selves in possession of the vessel. 
 
 The sea has witnessed all this for centuries, has silently 
 buried such secrets in its depths ; and yet, after such nights of 
 blood and terror, the sun has again risen in splendor over its 
 bosom, ever presenting the same sublime spectacle. 
 
 (1)
 
 2 MOHAMMED ALT AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Beautiful is the sea when it lies at rest in the azure light of 
 the skies a very heaven on earth. But still more beautiful, 
 more glorious, is it when it surges in its mighty wrath a 
 wrath compared with which the thunder of the heavens is but 
 as the whispering of love, the raging of a storm upon the land 
 a mere murmur. An immeasurable monster, the sea rushes 
 with its mighty waves upon the rock-bound coast, sends clouds 
 of spray high into the air, telling in tones of thunder of the 
 majesty and strength of the ocean that refuses to be fettered 
 or conciliated. 
 
 You may cultivate the arts and sciences on the land, you 
 may bring the earth into subjection, and make it yield up its 
 treasures; the sea has bounded in freedom since the begin- 
 ning, and it will not be conquered, will not be tamed. The 
 mind of man has learned to command all things on the land, 
 knows the secrets of the depths of the earth, and uses them ; 
 but man is weak and powerless when he dares to command, 
 or ventures to combat, the ocean. At its pleasure it carries 
 ships, barks, and boats ; but at its pleasure it also destroys and 
 grinds them to dust, and you can only fold your hands and let 
 it act its will. 
 
 To-day it is surging fiercely ; its waves are black, and their 
 white heads curl over upon the rock Bucephalus, that stretches 
 far out into the bay of Contessa, pictured against the blue sky 
 in the form of a gigantic black steed. Huddled together at 
 the foot of this rock, and leaning against its surface, is a group 
 of men and boys. They are eagerly gazing out upon the 
 water, and are perhaps speaking to each other; but no one 
 hears what another says, for the waves are roaring, and the 
 storm howling in the rocky caves, and the waves and storm, 
 with their mighty chorus, drown the little human voices. The 
 pale faces of the boys are expressive of terror and anxiety, the 
 knit brows of the men indicate that they are expecting a dis- 
 aster, and the trembling lips of the old men forebode that the 
 next hour may bring with it some horrible event. 
 
 They stand upon the beach, waiting anxiously; but the 
 monster the sea regards them not, and hurls one black wave 
 after the other hi upon the cliff behind which they stand, 
 often drenching them with spray.
 
 THE SEA. 3 
 
 But these people pay no attention to this, hardly notice it ; 
 their whole soul is in their eyes, which are gazing fixedly out 
 upon the waters. Thus they stand, these poor, weak human 
 beings, in the presence of the grand, majestic ocean, conscious 
 of their impotence, and waiting till the monster shall gracious- 
 ly allow his anger to abate. For a moment the storm holds 
 its breath ; a strange, solemn stillness follows upon the roar- 
 ing of the elements, and affords these people an opportunity 
 to converse, and impart their terror and anxiety to each other. 
 
 " He will not return," said one of them, with a shake of the 
 head and a sad look. 
 
 " He is lost ! " sighed another. 
 
 " And you boys are to blame for it ! " cries a third, turning 
 to the group who stood near the men, closely wrapped in their 
 brown cloaks, the hoods pulled down over their eyes. 
 
 "Why did you encourage him to undertake so daring a 
 feat ? " cried a fourth, pointing threateningly toward the boys. 
 
 " It is not our fault, Sheik Emir," said one of them, de- 
 fiantly ; " he would do so." 
 
 " Mohammed always was proud and haughty," exclaimed 
 another. " We told him that a storm was coming, and that 
 we would go home. But he wouldn't, sheik." 
 
 " That is to say," said the sheik, angrily " that is to say, 
 you have been ridiculing the poor boy again ? " 
 
 " He is always so proud, and thinks himself something bet- 
 ter than the rest of us," murmured the boy, " though he is 
 something worse, and may some day be a beggar if " 
 
 The storm now began to rage more furiously ; the waves 
 towered higher, and threw their spray far on to the shore and 
 high upon the rock, as though determined to make known its 
 dread majesty to the inhabitants of the city of Cavalla, which 
 stands with its little houses, narrow streets, and splendid 
 mosque, on the plateau of the rock of Bucephalus. On the 
 summit of the rock a woman is kneeling, her hands extended 
 imploringly toward heaven ; she has allowed the white veil to 
 fall from her face, and her agonized features are exposed to 
 view, regardless of the law that permits her to reveal her 
 countenance in the harem only. What are the laws to her ? 
 where is the man to command her to veil her counte-
 
 4 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 nance ? who says to her : " You belong to me, and my heart 
 glows with jealousy when others behold you " ? 
 
 No one is there who could thus address her ; for she is a 
 widow, and calls nothing on earth her own, and loves nothing 
 on earth but her son, her Mohammed Ali. 
 
 She knows that he has gone out to sea in a frail skiff to 
 cross over to the island-rock Imbro. The boys have told her 
 of the daring feat which her son had undertaken with them. 
 Filled with anxiety, they had come up to the widow of Ibra- 
 him to announce that her son had refused to return with them 
 after they had started in their fisher-boats for the island of 
 Imbro. " I have begun it and I'll carry it out," the proud boy 
 had replied to them. ''You have ridiculed me, and think 
 yourselves better oarsmen than I, and now you shall see that 
 I alone shall cross over to Imbro, while you cowardly return 
 when the storm begins to rage." 
 
 This was his reply, and in their anxiety they had repeated 
 it to his mother Khadra, telling her, at the same time, that 
 they were innocent of her son's misdeed, and had begged him 
 in his mother's name to return with them. There she kneels, 
 on the brow of the rock, gazing out upon the water, imploring 
 Allah to restore her son, and conjuring the raging sea to bear 
 back her child to the shore. 
 
 The mother's entreaties are ardent, and strong is her prayer 
 to Allah and to Nature. 
 
 The ghins, the evil spirits themselves, hold their breath 
 and flap their black wings more gently when they rustle past 
 the spot where a mother weeps and prays for her son ! 
 
 But a tear drops from the eyes of the good spirits when 
 they meet such a mother, and this tear is potent to save her 
 child. Perhaps at this moment an agathodcemon has flown 
 by, has seen the agonized mother, and has let fall a tear upon 
 the waters, for at this moment they become more tranquil. 
 Perhaps the ghins have suddenly been swept away by the 
 whirlwind, Zeboah, for the storm is now hushed. 
 
 The storm is stilled, though from time to time its mighty 
 breath is again heard ; and then it is again mute, and the 
 waves roll in upon the shore less furiously. The sky, too, be- 
 gins to grow clear. The sun looks out from between the
 
 THE SEA. 5 
 
 clouds, and throws a long golden streak of light across the 
 waves, as if to conciliate with its smile the foaming sea, and 
 smooth its furrowed brow. 
 
 Now, a single, mighty cry resounds from above, from the 
 place where the mother is kneeling. It seems to find its echo 
 here below on the shore where the men and boys are standing. 
 It is a cry of joy, of ecstasy. And all hands are raised and 
 pointed across the water to the spot where the island-rock, Im- 
 bro, must lie. It is not visible ; the waves have surged over 
 it, as they always do when the storm rages, but they know 
 that it must lie there. And there a black spot ! It dances 
 on the waves, and is lifted above the white spray. The sun 
 throws its rays far out over the waters, and over the black 
 spot. Again a shout and a cry resound on the shore and 
 above on the plateau. 
 
 Yes, it is the boat, dancing like a leaf up through the foam. 
 The mother and the men are waiting on the shore in breath- 
 less suspense, as it approaches nearer and nearer. Yes, it is 
 the boat in which Mohammed Ali went out to sea. 
 
 Yes, it is he ; he is returning ! 
 
 The men and boys are now rejoicing, and the poor woman 
 has fainted away. While the mother's heart was in doubt, it 
 throbbed violently in her breast ; now that she knows her 
 child is returning, it stands still with joy and delight. 
 
 The women, who had vainly endeavored to console her, 
 have now come to recall the mother to consciousness, and to 
 cheer her with joyous words. 
 
 " Your son returns ! Allah has protected him ! The ghins 
 had no power over him, his agathodaemon watched over him ! 
 Allah be praised, Allah is great ! " 
 
 The boat comes on dancing over the water. The boy stands 
 alone, no one to assist him in wielding his oar. He holds it 
 firmly grasped in his hands, using it lustily, and steering in de- 
 fiance of the waves toward the shore. And now the men has- 
 ten forward to his assistance. They throw long ropes to him, 
 and hail their success with a shout of joy, when one of them 
 happily falls into the boy's boat. The latter grasps the end 
 thrown to him, and holds it firmly. The men draw the rope 
 and thus force the boat to the shore, and, as it touches the
 
 6 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 rock, ten arms grasp it and hold it securely. With a single 
 bound the boy leaps ashore. 
 
 His face is perfectly calm ; his eyes, lustrous as stars, show 
 no traces of terror ; they are fixed on the men with a kindly 
 glance, but they darken as he turns to the boys. 
 
 " You see, my boys," said he, with a calm and at the same 
 time threatening expression, " I have won my wager ! Here 
 is the proof that I was over there. The knife that Ibrahim 
 lost there yesterday, I bring back to him. Here it is ! " 
 
 He takes the knife out of his jacket, thoroughly drenched 
 with water, and throws it down before the boys. " I have won 
 my wager ! You men are witnesses of my triumph ! Each 
 boy is bound to pay me tribute from to-day. Each one must 
 furnish me, twice a week, with the best peaches and dates from 
 his garden, and when we go out to the chase they must obey 
 me, and acknowledge me to be their captain." 
 
 What triumph shone in his eyes, what an expression of 
 energy in the bearing of a boy scarcely ten years old ! 
 
 " That was it 1 " exclaimed Toussoun Aga, in a reproachful 
 tone. " For this reason my brother's son risked his life, and 
 caused his mother and all of us so much anxiety. Allah for- 
 give you ! You are a wild, defiant boy." 
 
 " No, uncle," cried the boy ; " no, I am not wild and de- 
 fiant. They ridiculed me, and said I was not as good as they, 
 could do nothing, didn't even know how to steer a boat. And 
 then we laid a wager, and I won my wager ; and they shall 
 pay the tribute, and acknowledge me to be their captain. I 
 call all you men to witness that I am the captain of the boys 
 of Cavalla." 
 
 The men looked at each other, amused and astonished at 
 the same time. He speaks like a child, and yet haughtily, like 
 a monarch. His words are childish, and yet so full of energy. 
 And many of them thought they could read in the book of the 
 future that a great destiny awaited the poor boy Mohammed 
 All. " He is poor, to be sure, and will have much hard fight- 
 ing to do with the storms of life. May the same success he 
 has met with against the storms of the sea to-day also attend 
 him hereafter against the storms of life ! " 
 
 Toussoun Aga stretches out his hand to take that of hig
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 7 
 
 nephew Mohammed, to lead him to the rock above, to his 
 mother, but the boy quickly rejects the proffered assistance. 
 
 " I can ascend the rock to my mother alone ; I am not 
 weak and terrified, uncle. Go on, I will follow." 
 
 And, as he says this, he crosses his hands behind his back. 
 The rest now cry out : 
 
 " Look at his hands ! Look, they are bleeding ! " 
 
 Toussoun now takes the boy's hands in his own, against his 
 will, and opens them. They are covered with blood, that oozes 
 out of the raw flesh. 
 
 " It is nothing," said the boy ; " nothing at all. I had to 
 hold fast to the oar, the skin stuck to it, and that made my 
 hands bleed." 
 
 The men gaze on him admiringly, and whisper to each 
 other : " He is a hero, if he is only ten years old." And they 
 respectfully step back, and allow the boy to pass on up the 
 rocky path that leads to Cavalla. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 
 
 " HEBE he is again, Sitta Khadra. I bring your son," said 
 Toussoun Aga, as he entered, with the boy, the hut into which 
 some kind-hearted women had brought Mohammed's mother. 
 " Scold the naughty youth well, and tell him what anxiety he 
 has caused us all." 
 
 Sitta Khadra, however, did not scold him, but only extend- 
 ed her open arms, drew her son to her bosom with a joyous cry, 
 and kissed him tenderly. Toussoun gazed smilingly at the 
 two, and then noiselessly left the hut. 
 
 " It is best to leave them alone, that Allah only may hear 
 what the mother says to her son," he murmured, as he re- 
 turned to his own hut, where he industriously began to apply 
 himself to making fishing-nets, with which occupation he 
 earned his livelihood. 
 
 Now that Mohammed was left alone with his mother, the
 
 g MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 boy who was always so reserved and timid in the presence of 
 others, knelt down before her, and entreated her tenderly not 
 to be angry with him for having made her anxious. 
 
 " But you see, mother, it had to be done," said he, excitedly 
 and imploringly at the same time, " else they would have ridi- 
 culed me again as they so often do." 
 
 " How can they ridicule you, my beloved son ? " murmured 
 Khadra, regarding him tenderly ; " are you not handsomer 
 and stronger than all of these pale, weak boys ? Can you not 
 steer a boat and use a gun better than they ? Are you not a 
 man among these boys ? " 
 
 " Not yet, Mother Khadra ; but I shall become one," said 
 he, rising from his knees and lifting his head proudly. 
 "Yes, I will become a man among these boys, and they 
 shall all be my subjects. We had laid a wager, and that wager 
 had to be won ; and won for you, Mother Khadra," he added 
 with a glad smile. 
 
 " For me ? " she asked, wonderingly. " How can your vic- 
 tory over these boys be of use to me, except that I rejoice in 
 your greater strength ? " 
 
 " There is something else, mother," he replied, joyously. 
 " They must pay a tribute, and the finest dates and peaches, 
 and the most beautiful flowers in their gardens, are mine, two 
 days in the week, and for three months this was the wager. 
 Now you have fruits and flowers. Do you remember how 
 you complained, while we were sitting on the rock looking at 
 the sea, that we had only this poor little hut, and no garden 
 and no field? I said to myself, ' I'll get them for her.' And, 
 mother, you shall have all the rest besides. Now you have 
 fruits and flowers, but, if Allah is gracious, you shall soon 
 have your own garden and your own house, handsomer than 
 all the houses of Cavalla. I will build my mother a palace ; 
 she shall have slaves and servants ; all shall bow down before 
 her as before their mistress ; none shall rule over her but Al- 
 lah and the prophet." 
 
 The mother gazed in wonder at her son's excited counte- 
 nance ; he seemed to her at this moment not a child, but a man, 
 a hero. 
 
 " Yes," she murmured to herself, " he will make what he
 
 MOTHER AND SON. $ 
 
 says come true : all that the dream announced and the proph- 
 etess foretold." 
 
 " What is that you are saying, mother ? " asked he. " What 
 was that dream, what did the prophetess foretell ? " 
 
 She gently shook her head. " It will not be well to tell 
 you, my son. Your heart is bold and passionate. And yet," 
 she continued, after a moment, "it may be well that you 
 should know it ; for to the daring belongs the world, and Al- 
 lah blesses those who have a passionate and earnest heart. 
 Sit down at my side, my son, and you shall know all." 
 
 "Speak, mother, speak I am listening. How was the 
 dream ? " 
 
 ' It was more than twelve years ago," said the mother,, 
 thoughtfully. u At that time I was a young married woman, 
 and was beautiful so the people said for I was so poor that 
 I could not even buy myself a veil, and Allah and the prophets 
 forgave me for going uncovered before men. Then it was- 
 that your father, the Boulouk Baschi of the police, saw me ;. 
 his eye rested lovingly on the poor girl, and he did me the 
 honor to make me his wife, and he covered my face with a 
 veil, that no other man might henceforth see me. It was a 
 great honor for me that Boulouk Baschi considered me worthy 
 to be his wife, even his only wife. For he made no use of the 
 privilege accorded by the prophet and our religion, which al- 
 lows a man to conduct several women to his harem. He said 
 the one woman of his heart should be the one woman of hi& 
 house. It was a happy year, my son, this first year of our 
 married life. We were not rich, we had nothing but the sal- 
 ary which your father received from the tschorbadji, but it 
 was sufficient ; when we are happy we do not need much. 
 You must know, my son, that my heart is not fixed on splen- 
 dor and show ; it was not my own thoughts that conjured up 
 these proud dreams. We lived, as I have said, in quiet bliss, 
 hoping that our happiness might soon be increased by the birth 
 of a child, by you, my son. One circumstance only dimmed 
 our happiness : this was your father's service. A bad service, 
 my son ! Bands of robbers infested our peninsula, and it was a 
 dangerous calling to lie in wait for them, and follow them up 
 into the mountains. I always trembled when your father
 
 10 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 went out with his men in pursuit of robbers, and I had good 
 cause to tremble. Allah had implanted in my soul a forebod- 
 ing of coming evil. One day, while engaged in preparing our 
 simple repast, I heard heavy footsteps, and a subdued murmur 
 of voices approaching. I knew that some misfortune was im- 
 pending, and there was. Your father was brought in a bleed- 
 ing corpse ! He had followed the robbers far up into the 
 mountains alone, his men refusing to accompany him. The 
 robbers had surrounded and slain him, disfiguring his dear 
 face so that I could scarcely recognize it." 
 
 u What was done with the murderers ? " asked Mohammed, 
 fiercely. " Were they punished, executed ? " 
 
 She shook her head. " There was no one there to witness 
 the deed, and, when your father's successor was appointed, 
 they had probably long since crossed the sea. Their names 
 were not even known, and your father's blood is unavenged 
 to this day." 
 
 " Mother ! " exclaimed the boy, fiercely, " I will avenge my 
 father ! I swear it ! " 
 
 " Poor boy ! You avenge him ? You do not even know 
 who his murderers were," said she, gently. 
 
 " I will have vengeance on the whole world ! " exclaimed 
 the boy. " All my enemies shall suffer for his death ! What 
 did you do, mother, when you beheld my father's body ? You 
 laid your hand on his eyes, and swore to avenge him, did you 
 not ? " 
 
 " No, my son. I sank down by your father's body, kissed 
 his hand, and took leave of him whom alone I had loved. But 
 yet, I did register one oath ! I swore that henceforth I would 
 love nothing but the child I bore under my heart his child. 
 I also swore that the veil with which he had covered my face 
 should never be lifted by another man. Many a one longed 
 to take Ibrahim Aga's widow to wife, for, talkative as love and 
 happiness always are, he had told them of his love and his 
 happiness, and they thought that they, too, might obtain this 
 through me. But I rejected them, though I was poor and 
 possessed nothing but this hut to shelter myself and my child, 
 as yet unborn. For the sake of this child, I rallied my ener- 
 gies and dried my eyes. A mother who has not yet given
 
 MOTHER AND SON. U 
 
 birth should not weep ; her tears would fall on the child and 
 make its heart sick and its eyes dim, and I wished my child to 
 see the world with his father's eyes, to begin life with his 
 father's heart. Therefore I implored Allah to give strength 
 and joyousness to the life that was to be devoted to my child. 
 One night I had a strange, wondrous, and beautiful dream. 
 On a sparkling throne I saw a man in glittering armor, his 
 sword high uplifted, his eyes naming, his countenance lus- 
 trous with beauty. I knew this man, although I had never 
 seen him. His countenance was that of my Ibrahim, and yet 
 it was another it was his son ! In my dream I was distinctly 
 conscious that it was my son I beheld before me. He looked 
 not at me, but out upon the world with an angry eye. At his 
 feet thousands lay extended upon the ground in deep rever- 
 ence. Far behind him I saw a strange landscape, such as I 
 had never before beheld. On a wide, yellow waste of sand, 
 stood towering proud and mighty structures of wondrous form, 
 their summits glittering in the sunshine. And, strange to say, 
 afar off, on a magnificent palace, I saw the same man I had 
 before beheld, his sword again uplifted, and above his head 
 shone the crescent with the three stars. All at once the man 
 became transformed into a child that shone like an angel, and 
 this angel stretched out its arms and flew toward me. In my 
 dream I extended my arms toward this vision, and cried, ' My 
 son my son ! ' This cry awakened me. On the following day 
 you were born. When I saw and greeted you with Allah's bless- 
 ing, I was startled to find the child I held in my arms the same 
 as the angel that had flown to me in my dream ! Oftentimes 
 since I have thought of this dream, and endeavored to inter- 
 pret it, for the agathodaemon that watches over men, and pro- 
 tects them from the ghins and their evil pinions, sometimes 
 sends dreams to the unhappy to announce to them the future. 
 I thought my agathodamon had sent me this dream. 
 
 " One day some gypsies came to Cavalla on a ship that 
 landed here to procure provisions. They remained here sev- 
 eral days, and made a business of fortune-telling. I went to 
 an old woman, said to be the greatest prophetess, held out my 
 hand, and demanded that she should announce the future of 
 myself and my son. The old woman gazed at me with
 
 12 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 a strange look, and said : ' You wish your dream inter- 
 preted ? ' 
 
 " This startled me, for I had rarely spoken of my dream, 
 and the old woman could not have heard of it. She had been 
 in Ca valla but two days, and who should have told her of the 
 poor, obscure woman, Sitta Khadra ? But this question star- 
 tled me to the very soul, and it seemed to me that this woman 
 must tell me the truth. 1 motioned to her to tell me my 
 dream. She related the entire dream with every circumstance, 
 and interpreted it." 
 
 " How did she interpret it ? " asked Mohammed, in breath- 
 less suspense. 
 
 " She said to me : ' Your son will one day become a prince 
 and a hero ; he will see a whole nation bowed down at his 
 feet ; he will wield the sword over this people, and bring them 
 under his yoke. Your son shall be a ruler ; palaces shall be 
 his, and among the mighty he shall be the mightiest. Destiny 
 announced this to you through the man transformed into the 
 angel that flew to you, and who is your son. All hail, Khadra, 
 for you shall be the mother of the mightiest, of the master of 
 the earth ! ' " 
 
 " Is this true ? Am I to be a prince, a mighty ruler ? " 
 asked Mohammed, in ecstasy. "I am to behold nations at 
 my feet ? Repeat it again, what did she say ? " 
 
 " Yes, she said this : k A prince shall he become, nations 
 shall he behold at his feet, and the whole world shall talk of 
 and praise him.' " 
 
 " I swear to you, mother, that she shall have told the truth ! 
 I swear to you, by the spirit of my father, by Allah and by the 
 prophets, I will make the old woman's prophecy the truth ! I 
 shall be a prince, a great ruler, and whole nations shall bow 
 down in the dust before me. I thank you, mother, for having 
 foretold my future, and I only implore that Allah may gra- 
 ciously permit my mother to live to see the fulfilment of the 
 prophecy. Now I know what I have to do, and, when the 
 boys ask me again what is to become of poor Mohammed, I 
 .shall tell them : ' I will make of him a prince, a hero, a king.' 
 Yes, I will speak thus to them, and thus it shall be ! And 
 with them I shall begin ! These cowardly boys shall be my
 
 MOTHER AND SON. jg 
 
 subjects, and woe to them if they do not pay the tribute ! O 
 mother, beautiful days are in store for you ! " 
 
 'My dear, foolish boy," said the mother, regarding him 
 tenderly, " you dream of a brilliant future, but it is impossible 
 to realize this dream. We are poor, and Fortune seldom re- 
 sides with the poor." 
 
 " I will make us rich ! " exclaimed the boy ; " yes, I will 
 make us rich, though as yet I know not how I am to do it. 
 But do you know who shall assist me in doing so ? " 
 
 " I think I do," replied the mother, smiling, '' you will ask 
 your good friend Mr. Lion ? " 
 
 Mohammed nodded assent. " Rightly guessed, mother ! 
 To him I shall go and ask him how to begin to become a rich 
 man. Let me do so at once, my heart is burning to ask this 
 question." 
 
 He seized his red cap, pulled it over his brown hair, took 
 leave of his mother, hurried into the street, and out of the 
 poverty-stricken little suburb, toward the main thoroughfare, 
 where the wealthy lived. He walked on, reflecting profoundly 
 over what his mother had related, and without noticing the 
 boys who were coming toward him. When they perceived 
 him, they stepped aside as if ashamed to meet the boy who 
 had excelled and conquered them, slipped into the next house, 
 closed the door which extended only half-way up the door- 
 way behind them, and looked out over it. 
 
 " Only look at him ! " they cried, derisively. " He is good 
 for nothing. He can do nothing. What is he to become but 
 a beggar ? Who will pity him when his uncle is dead, and his 
 mother sick and bedridden ? Then he will have to serve us, 
 and pay us tribute." 
 
 They continued to laugh at him, but he walked on quietly. 
 Their malicious words had not escaped him, but he took no 
 notice of them. Proudly and composedly he walked on, mur- 
 muring to himself in a low voice : "They shall pay for this 
 some day ! They too are my enemies, on whom I intend to 
 be avenged, fearfully avenged !" 
 
 These thoughts were still expressed in his features as he 
 entered the great store of the merchant Lion. Hastily he 
 threaded his way down the narrow path that lay between the
 
 14: MOHAMMED A LI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 bales and barrels, toward the light that shone at the end. 
 There stood the merchant's office. Now he hears a kindly 
 voice welcoming him. 
 
 "Behold the hero of Imbro, the daring conqueror of the 
 sea ! Welcome my hero, welcome ! " 
 
 He stood still, listening to these tones, a happy smile over- 
 spreading his countenance. How beautiful it is to be thus 
 welcomed ! To be sure, as yet it is only a friendly greeting, 
 and half in mockery, but this greeting shall one day resound 
 from the throats of whole nations, and not in mockery. &hall 
 they hail him, ''Welcome, thou hero ! " This he swear* shall 
 be, as he steps up to Mr. Lion, who extends both hands to him 
 over his counter, and regards him tenderly. 
 
 " Here again, my Mohammed ! They have been speaking 
 of you all day, and three men have already been here to tell 
 of your heroic deed. Let me see your hands. Yes, they are 
 torn and bleeding. Yes, my boy, I have rejoiced with you, 
 and am proud with you for having put those boys to 
 shame." 
 
 " I thank you, sir," said he, earnestly ; " yet it is not enough 
 to conquer boys ; one must also conquer men and nations ! " 
 
 Mr. Lion regarded him with wonder. " What is this yoi 
 are saying ? what are you busying your brain with now ? " 
 
 " With many things, sir ; I desire you to help me provide 
 for my future." 
 
 u I am delighted, Mohammed," said the merchant, regard 
 ing him with a friendly smile, " I am delighted to see you 
 thoughtful of your future. I have often scolded your mother 
 about you ; you are tall and sensible for your age, are almost 
 a young man, and it would become you to be taking care of 
 yourself. But both your mother and your Uncle Toussoun are 
 spoiling you in their anxiety to strew your pathway with rose- 
 leaves, and guard you from every hardship." 
 
 " They would," said the boy, shrugging his shoulders, " if 
 I allowed them, but I will not ! I will bare my face to the 
 storm, and walk on thorns instead of rose-leaves, in order that 
 my feet may become hardened. Therefore, tell me, dear sir, 
 what I am to do to provide for my future." 
 
 "That is hard to tell," replied Lion, with a sigh. "For
 
 MOTHER AND SON. 15 
 
 every thing a certain something is necessary, which you, un- 
 fortunately, do not possess." 
 
 '' And what is this something ? " asked the hoy, hastily. 
 
 " Money," replied the merchant. " It is not enough to pray 
 to Allah, and to receive into one's soul the precepts of the 
 Koran ; one must also use one's hands industriously, and learn 
 the precepts of worldly wisdom, and the very first of these is, 
 ' Have money, and you can obtain all else.' " 
 
 " I will have money, that I may obtain all else ! '' exclaimed 
 Mohammed ; " only tell me how to procure it." 
 
 ''That is just where the difficulty lies, you foolish boy," 
 said the merchant, stroking his brown hair gently. " Those 
 who rob and plunder make it much easier for themselves in 
 the world, and I have known many a one to begin his career 
 as a robber who, subsequently, ruled over men as a grand 
 pacha. Yet I am confident that it is not in this manner you 
 wish to acquire riches, but as an honest man." 
 
 " Yes, as an honest man ! I desire to gain honor, magnifi- 
 cence, and wealth, by the power of my will and my intellect." 
 
 " Honor, magnificence, and wealth ? " repeated Mr. Lion. 
 " These are grand words, my boy ! It will be very difficult to 
 accomplish so much, and I can render you no assistance in do- 
 ing so, yet I will take you into my business and try to make a 
 merchant of you, if you wish it." 
 
 "Merchant!" repeated the boy, thoughtfully. "I have 
 nothing that I could sell." 
 
 " Yet you can sell yourself. Do not look at me so angrily ! 
 I do not mean that you should sell yourself as a slave, but do 
 business with your head, your work, and your good-will. 
 Help me to wait on my customers, to sell goods, and to praise 
 them with pleasing manners, and I will furnish you with food 
 and clothing, and pay you monthly wages besides, which you 
 can give to your mother." 
 
 " I should have to stand behind the counter, and play the 
 amiable to people, as I have seen you do ? " 
 
 " Yes, my son, that you would have to do." 
 
 " I should have to listen quietly to the gossips, spread out 
 before them the carpets, turbans, and Persian shawls ; and, as 
 I have seen you do, cover the spots with my hands and praise
 
 16 MOHAMMED A LI AXD HIS HOUSE. 
 
 the goods, and then hear them scold, and bargain, and 
 cheapen ? " 
 
 " Really, you will make a good merchant ; I see you have 
 learned a great deal already." 
 
 " I should, when the women stroll in and seat themselves 
 at the counter, have to wait on them humbly with coffee, and 
 beg them to do us the honor ? Should have to hear them talk 
 about their domestic affairs, their cats, and their dogs, and ap- 
 pear to be delighted with the sweetness of their voices, and the 
 lustre of their eyes ? " 
 
 " By your prophet, you are a finished merchant, and will 
 make a splendid salesman 1 " 
 
 " No, I shall not ! " cried the boy. " No, sir ! I love you 
 with my whole soul, and have often observed and admired 
 how you understand your art, but, forgive me for saying so, 
 I cannot become a merchant ! Propose something that I 
 can do." 
 
 " Very well ! I will propose something else ; become a 
 writer, learn the art, understood by so few, of putting words 
 spoken by others on paper with signs. - I should be well 
 pleased, as I need a writer. The one I have has grown old 
 and lazy, and, though I can speak your language, I cannot 
 write it. Yes, learn to write, and then you will be provided 
 for permanently, for writers are rare, and " 
 
 " I will not learn it ! " said the boy, interrupting him ; " I 
 will have nothing to do with the pen. I will write my name 
 with the sword on the faces of my enemies ! " 
 
 " That would be a beautiful handwriting ! ' observed Mr. 
 Lion, laughing. " It will, however, be some time before you 
 can do that, and, in the mean while, I would advise you to go 
 to old Scha-er Mehsed, the story-teller. He knows wonderful 
 tales, and the whole history of the great Prophet Mohammed. 
 You know, in the evenings, crowds assemble around him, and 
 it fairly rains pennies. But Scha-er Mehsed has grown old, 
 and hard to understand because he has lost his teeth. Go and 
 listen to him, then take your seat on the stone and tell stories 
 of the olden time yourself." 
 
 " No, Mr. Lion, that does not suit me either. I will first 
 -do great deeds before I tell of them. Not until I have grown
 
 BOYISH DREAMS. 17 
 
 old shall the men and women assemble around me ; then they 
 shall hear of my deeds. But to tell of the deeds of others only, 
 would give me no pleasure. I see nothing is left me but to 
 become a soldier. Yes, a soldier. " 
 
 " I, too, believe that would be the best thing for you," said 
 Mr. Lion, with a kindly nod of the head. "But then you 
 must wait until you are larger and stronger, for they do not 
 make soldiers of boys, and you are still a boy. At ten years 
 of age one is not yet a man, my little hero. But at fifteen you 
 will be a youth, and then you will be accepted as a soldier. 
 And I prophesy for you a great and brilliant career as such. 
 Until then, however, I promise to help your mother to take 
 care of you, and, if I can serve you in any way, come to me, 
 for you know I love you, and will gladly do what I can for 
 you." 
 
 '' Until then I will be the general of the boys of Cavalla, 
 and they shall all bow down to me, and pay me tribute." 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BOYISH DREAMS. 
 
 SINCE that day a great change had taken place in Moham- 
 med Ali. He was graver and more silent, and participated 
 less in the games of the boys. He no longer laughed and 
 jested as he had formerly done, but he was all the more busily 
 occupied with his gun, inherited from his father, exercising 
 himself in shooting, and almost always hitting his mark. He 
 also strengthened his limbs by fencing with his old uncle, who 
 had formerly been a soldier, or by throwing himself into the 
 sea, to struggle with the waves and allow himself to be buf- 
 feted about by them for hours. The boy prepared himself to 
 become a man, and he did so with his whole soul, and with the 
 whole strength of his will. 
 
 He often wandered in solitude among the rocks on the 
 heights, or lingered on the beach below ; and when he would 
 return to his mother, on such occasions, she could see reflected
 
 18 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 in his countenance the great thoughts that agitated her boy's 
 soul. He seemed to her to grow visibly taller each day ; that 
 the boy was transforming himself into a man with wonderful 
 rapidity. She knew that this boy would become a hero ; she 
 had seen it in the expression of his eyes while relating her 
 dream, and she comprehended the longing which filled his 
 soul, for her soul was strong and aspiring like his, and Moham- 
 med had inherited his ambition and strong will from his 
 mother Khadra. 
 
 " He thinks as I should think were I a man," said Khadra 
 to herself, as she sat on the threshold of her door regarding 
 her son. "Neither should I be contented with our present 
 miserable existence if I were a man. I, too, should desire to 
 go out and struggle with the world. Alas ! but I am only a 
 poor widow, living a miserable, solitary life, awaiting the day 
 when death shall call me, and unite me in Paradise with Ibra- 
 him Aga, my master. But let the young eagle brood and 
 think until his wings are grown, and then let him fly into the 
 world out of this miserable, rocky nest. May Allah bless his 
 purpose, and Mohammed the prophet protect him ! Allah il 
 Allah!" 
 
 While the mother was praying, and looking out wistfully 
 into the twilight, Mohammed was sitting in his rocky cave 
 down on the shore. 
 
 This was as yet his only possession, his palace ! No one 
 knew of this cave, discovered by the boy while wandering on 
 the shore. He had crept into a narrow opening in the rock 
 which he had observed among the cliffs, that was hardly large 
 enough to admit of the passage of his slender body. He crept 
 on his hands and knees, and noticed with delight that this 
 opening widened into a cave. He went on, deeper and deeper 
 into the darkness, when suddenly he saw a bright light over- 
 head, and discovered that he was in a wide cave, lighted from 
 above by a round opening as by a window. 
 
 Through this opening he could view the sea, and the sky 
 above. 
 
 This cave was known to no one else, and Mohammed care- 
 fully preserved the secret of its existence. 
 
 This cave was his palace ! Here he could dream of the
 
 BOYISH DREAMS. 19 
 
 future ; here, in impenetrable solitude, he could dwell with his 
 thoughts ; from here he could look up and implore counsel 
 from the heavens above, or look down at the foaming sea be- 
 neath, and refresh his soul with its majesty. 
 
 By degrees he had made this cave habitable. Who knows 
 but it may be necessary to seek it as a refuge from pursuit and 
 danger some day ? Who knows but that he may be compelled 
 to seek safety here some day from his enemies, or even from his 
 friends ? 
 
 Whatever he could spare from the little sums of money 
 which his mother occasionally gave him, or from the presents 
 of Mr. Lion or his old uncle, he devoted to the purchase of 
 bedding, or some other article of furniture of the kind used in 
 the huts of the poor. And then at night, when no one could 
 see him, he would creep with these things into his cave, his 
 palace of the future. Sometimes, while sitting there dreaming, 
 the deep-blue sky looking down upon him, the sun throwing 
 a ray of golden light through the cave, strange visions would 
 appear to him. The cave would transform itself into a glitter- 
 ing palace, and the wretched mat that lay on the ground be- 
 came a luxurious silken couch, on which he reclined, smoking 
 his tschibak, while slaves stood around in reverential attitudes, 
 ready to do his bidding. When seated on his rickety stool 
 a costly possession for it had been bought with the last rem- 
 nant of his money, it seemed to him that, clothed in purple, 
 he had mounted his throne, around which wondrous strains 
 of melody resounded. It did not occur to him that it was the 
 murmur of the waves beating upon the rock-bound shore with- 
 out ; to him they were the triumphant songs of his future 
 greeting him, the ruler. 
 
 " A ruler, a hero, a prince, he is to be," said the prophetess 
 to his mother, and he will do what he can to fulfil this 
 prophecy. 
 
 It was with a great effort only that he could tear himself 
 away from such ecstatic dreams ; quit his hidden paradise, and 
 go out into the world, into reality again. 
 
 One cannot live on dreams ; one must eat, too. But it an- 
 noys him that he is subjected to this wretched necessity of 
 eating.
 
 20 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 44 If I should have nothing to eat ; if I should become so 
 poor and miserable as to have no bread, must I then die be- 
 cause I am in the habit of eating ? " he would ask himself, in 
 angry tones. 
 
 ''I will learn to live without eating 1" he cried, in a loud 
 voice. 
 
 For days he would wander about in the forests and among 
 the rocks, at a distance from all human habitations, taking no 
 food, in order that he might accustom himself to live on little. 
 
 On one occasion he remained absent from his mother's hut 
 two days and nights, and Khadra awaited his return in deathly 
 anxiety. Will he never return ; has she lost him, her only 
 son, the hope of her future, the blessing of her existence ? 
 
 At last, on the third day, she sees him coming ; pale and 
 exhausted, he totters toward her, and yet his bearing is defiant, 
 and his eye sparkles. 
 
 She hurries forward with extended arms to meet him. 
 " Where have you been, my beloved ; where were you tarry- 
 ing in the distance, forgetting that a mother's heart was long- 
 ing for you ? " 
 
 He pressed his mother's hand to his lips, looking stead- 
 fastly into her eyes. " I was with my future, Mother Khadra," 
 said he'in a low voice. u I was with the days that are to come, 
 the days when I shall stand on the palace, a man, a hero, sword 
 in hand, at my feet a people looking up to me imploringly. 
 You see, mother, your dream is fulfilled, the hero who stands 
 up there has again transformed himself into your boy ! He is 
 here and greets you." 
 
 "But why is my boy pale and exhausted?" asked Sitta 
 Khadra, anxiously, as she clasped him in her arms. 
 
 " I don't know ! " said he, wearily. " It seems to me that 
 my feet refuse to bear me longer, that something is drawing 
 me upward. Let us go to the hut, mother." 
 
 He grasped her arm hastily and led her away as though he 
 were quite strong, but Khadra observed that his lips trembled, 
 and that his face was pallid. 
 
 " He looks hungry," she murmured to herself. " Yes, I see 
 he is hungry ! Buried in his thoughts, he has again forgotten 
 to take food."
 
 BOYISH DREAMS. 21 
 
 She said no more, but walked hastily to the hut and led 
 nim in. " Son of my heart, I have been awaiting you," said 
 she, with an innocent air. " I did not wish to partake of our 
 simple supper until my son had come home. Let us sit down 
 and eat. Allah bless our meal ! '* 
 
 It does not escape her that his eye suddenly glitters as he 
 looks at the bread and dates brought yesterday by the boys as 
 his tribute. 
 
 With a quick motion he stretches out his hand toward the 
 fruit, but suddenly withdraws it, as if ashamed of himself : 
 
 "It does not become children to seat themselves before 
 their parents, and eat before they have broken bread. Eat, 
 mother ; seat yourself, and allow your son to wait on you." 
 
 That he might not feel hurt, she seated herself quickly and 
 took part of the fruit offered her. She handed him some, and 
 now human nature conquered the spirit, and he heartily ate of 
 the fruit and bread. 
 
 "Where were you, my boy? Light of my eyes, where 
 were you ? " asked the mother. 
 
 " Up there among the rocks, and below on the shore," re- 
 plied he, smiling. 
 
 " Where did you find food there ? I know that eagles, 
 hawks, and doves, find their food among the rocks, but for 
 mankind there is no food there." 
 
 " And I found none, Mother Khadra ; I must learn to do 
 with little, to conquer hunger, and I fought with it for two 
 days. See how I am rewarded ! my food never tasted so de- 
 liciously before." 
 
 " Eat, my boy ! Allah bless your food and drink ! How 
 fortunate that I have something for your thirst, too ! Uncle 
 Toussoun Aga brought me to-day a bottle of Cyprian wine, a 
 present from Mr. Lion. You must drink of it, my boy." 
 
 He shook his head. '' No, Sitta Khadra, I will not drink of 
 the wine sent you by the noble merchant to restore your 
 strength. Water from the well, from the spring of life, is a 
 better drink for me. For you, the Cyprian wine, for me the 
 spring- wine that bubbles from the rock." 
 
 He took down the gourd cup from the wall, and went out 
 and quenched his thirst with long draughts at the spring, and
 
 22 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 then returned to his mother. He was now restored to strength 
 and vigor ; the color returned to his cheeks, and his knees no 
 longer trembled. 
 
 " My eyes' delight, my Mohammed fresh and full of life 
 again ! " cried Mother Khadra. " Light of my life, I am glad 
 to see you yourself again. But I beg you, my boy, not to 
 make such cruel experiments on yourself. It is wholesome to 
 harden the body, but not to abuse it, and you abuse your own 
 handsome self when you torment yourself with hunger and 
 thirst unnecessarily." 
 
 " Not unnecessarily, Mother Khadra," he replied, shaking 
 his head. "He, only, who knows how to practise self-denial, 
 can enjoy. At first I couldn't understand this, now I do, and 
 have experienced it in myself. I have practised self-denial for 
 two days, and now I have enjoyed ; and thus it shall be in the 
 future, Sitta Khadra. I shall learn to do without, in order 
 that I may enjoy. Do not scold me for this ; do not say, with 
 the rest, that I am an obstinate boy ! I am not, mother, but I 
 must prepare myself for the future which you have announced 
 to me. Your dream must be realized, and therefore must I do 
 what I am doing. Let me have my way, and remember that 
 Allah is with me everywhere. And remember this, too, 
 mother, that wherever I may be, I shall hear your call should 
 you need me. If, at any time when I am not here, you should 
 need me, you have only to step out before the door, and imitate 
 the scream of the eagle when he hovers in the air over his nest, 
 and announces to his brood that he is coming. You recollect 
 hearing it when we were on the cliffs together the other day. 
 I pointed to an eagle hovering in the air, imitated his cry, and 
 begged you to do so too. It was not done without a purpose, 
 mother : I wished you to learn his cry, in order that you, too, 
 might call your brood in case of need." 
 
 The mother smiled. " A strange idea ! What would people 
 think if I should step out before the door, and scream into the 
 air in the tones of an eagle ? " 
 
 " Let people think what they please, mother," said he, with 
 a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders. "What care we? 
 They already laugh at and mock us. But a time shall come, 
 Sitta Khadra, when they shall bow down before you, and I
 
 BOYISH DREAMS. 23 
 
 only implore that Allah may permit you to live to see the time 
 -when your son shall stand on the palace, and wield his sword 
 over humanity. Why do you sigh, mother ? " he asked hastily, 
 and what he had never before observed, suddenly occurred to 
 him ; her cheeks were sunken, and her face pale. "Why do 
 you weep, mother ? " 
 
 " I know not, my son. I only fear the time is yet far dis- 
 tant when Mohammed AH shall stand on the palace with up- 
 lifted sword, the nations bowed down before him ! I am only 
 afraid I shall not live to see this time." 
 
 " Are you ill, mother ; are you ill ? " cried the boy, anx- 
 iously and tenderly. He rushed to her, clasped her in his 
 arms, and fixed his brown eyes on hers with an earnest, anx- 
 ious look. "Tell me I conjure you in the name of the 
 prophet tell me, are you ill, Sitta Khadra ? " 
 
 She forced herself to regard him with a smile. " No, light 
 of my eyes ! beloved of my soul ! When I see you, I am not 
 ill ; when I see and hear you, my heart is in health and at rest, 
 and" 
 
 u You have no disease, no pains ? " asked her son, interrupt- 
 ing her. " Your cheeks are pale, and your lips tremble. Tell 
 me, nothing ails you, you are quite well ? " 
 
 " Quite well, my beloved, and nothing ails me. All that is 
 wanting in my poor life is the moment when you shall have 
 become a great man, honored by men, and blessed by Allah." 
 
 " Honored by men, I will become ; the blessing of Allah 
 you shall implore down upon my head, mother ! You must 
 only remain in health to see me in my grandeur. You will not 
 pain me, mother, by falling ill, and following my father Ibra- 
 him Aga, before you can say to him, ' My dream is realized, 
 and your son Mohammed has become a great and mighty 
 hero,' will you ? Leave me not too soon, mother ; promise to 
 remain with me on earth until the prophecy is fulfilled." 
 
 " Dear boy ! " said she, with a sad smile. " How can the 
 poor child of earth promise what Allah must alone decide ? 
 We must walk as Allah directs, and submit to his will with 
 humility, for thus it is written in the Koran : ' Before the 
 great God who sits enthroned above the stars, bow thy head in 
 humility ; Allah determines, and man shall obey in pious sub-
 
 24: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 mission.' So must we, my boy ! Man is mortal, and passes 
 away ; as the withered leaf is wafted away by the wind and 
 perishes, so the storm wind of life seizes upon man and de- 
 stroys him." 
 
 " But not you, not you, mother ! " cried the boy, fiercely 
 grasping his mother's shoulders in childish anger. " No, I will 
 not believe it, and it shall not be ! The storm sball not destroy 
 you, for you must live to see your son great and mighty, that 
 he may recompense you for your days of sorrow and suffer- 
 ing." 
 
 " You hurt me," said his mother, gently releasing her shoul- 
 ders from his grasp. Mohammed burst into tears that poured 
 down his cheeks in streams. 
 
 The mother kissed them away. " My son, pearl of my ex- 
 istence ! only light in life's night ! my beloved son, what 
 would I be without you ? what should I do in the dark night 
 without the lustre of this star ? I kiss these eyes, son of my 
 heart, and bless you with Allah's blessing ! Be strong and 
 brave, my son, and weep not ! Leave tears to women. You 
 are a man in spite of your thirteen years, therefore weep not ; 
 even though the worst should befall, weep not. " 
 
 " The worst ? What does that mean, mother ? You wish to 
 prepare me, I read it in your look ; you wish to prepare me 
 for your death ! If you die, I will die, too ; if you die, my 
 whole life will I bury in the sea, and " 
 
 He could speak no further, and heart-sick he bowed his 
 head upon his mother's shoulder. 
 
 "You are not yourself, poor boy," said she, gently, as she 
 bathed his forehead with water ; u you see the body still 
 governs the mind, and long fasting has made you weak. Re- 
 member this, my boy. To keep the mind vigorous you must 
 give the body nourishment ; if you had not fasted for two 
 days, you would not weep now. Not because you are alarmed, 
 but because you are weak, do you weep." 
 
 He understood these words of heroism ; he understood that 
 maternal love had given her strength to console him with these 
 quiet, matter-of-fact utterances. He tenderly kissed her hands, 
 murmuring : " Sitta Khadra. you are a heroine, and I will learn 
 from you to be a hero."
 
 BOYISH DREAMS. 25 
 
 They sat in each other's embrace for a long time, silent, 
 and yet they were speaking to each other with their thoughts 
 and souls, and understood what soul said to soul, and heart to 
 heart. Often, after long years, will the son still think of this 
 hour when he sat by his mother's side, in solitude and silence, 
 his head resting on her bosom in his glittering palace will he 
 still think of it ? In the fulness of his magnificence, with the 
 soul's eye, will he look into this poor, dark little chamber 
 will he longingly think of his mother, of his first and holiest 
 love? 
 
 " Promise me, Mohammed," said she, after a long silence, 
 " promise me that you will never fast and torture yourself so 
 long again." 
 
 " I promise you, Sitta Khadra," he replied in a low voice, 
 " you are right ; the body must be strengthened that the soul 
 may be strong. I need a strong body that I may be able to 
 climb the rocky pathway of life to the summit, to the eagle's 
 eyry, far above the lowliness of life. I promise you, mother, 
 that from this day I will no longer torture my body, but it 
 shall be taught to defy want, and to subordinate itself to the 
 mind. Do not scold, Mother Khadra, if I am often away from 
 you. In solitude I learn. I converse with the invisible 
 spirits that hover about me in the air. They teach me won- 
 drous things, which I cannot relate to you to-day, but which 
 help me to prepare for the future. Do not forget, mother, 
 when I am away from you, and you need me, to call me with 
 the eagle's cry." 
 
 A faint smile trembled on her lips. " If, however, son of 
 my heart, I should be unable to utter this cry, if my voice 
 should be too weak to reach you " 
 
 He again regarded her with an anxious, inquiring look. 
 " Can that be, Sitta Khadra ? Do you believe your voice can 
 become so weak ? " 
 
 " Be reassured, my son ; I neither believe nor fear it, but 
 yet it might be." 
 
 " Yes, it might be," said he, passing his trembling hand 
 
 across his brow. " I shall go to Uncle Toussoun Aga and tell 
 
 him how to call me. Only promise me, mother, that, if you 
 
 need me, and are not able to call yourself, you will send for 
 
 3
 
 26 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 uncle and tell him to do so. I could otherwise have no 
 peace ; could not attend to my work and occupation, unless 
 I knew that you would have me called to you when you need 
 me." 
 
 " It shall be so, my son. When I need you, you shall be 
 called, and now do not allow yourself to be disturbed in your 
 occupations. Fly out, young eagle, out into the ah*, out 
 among the rocks, and learn from heaven and earth what to do 
 to prepare for your future." 
 
 She kissed his brow and laid her hand on his head in a 
 blessing. Mohammed kissed this hand, and then sprang to 
 his feet and went to his old uncle Toussoun Aga. With per- 
 fect gravity he begged permission to teach him the eagle's cry, 
 that he might be able to call him when his mother should 
 need him. 
 
 The old man looked up from the fishing-nets, at which he 
 was working, in utter bewilderment. " What possesses you, 
 Mohammed Ali ? What an idea to take into your head, to 
 train the old fellow who is good for nothing but to make nets 
 for the fishermen, in which they catch the red mareles and the 
 blue flyers to train this old fellow to imitate the eagle and 
 scream like the king of the air ! " 
 
 '' And yet you must learn to cry like this same eagle, 
 uncle ! " With resistless force he drew his uncle from his mat, 
 and almost compelled him to go up with him to the verge of 
 the rock. High above where the cliff projects far out into the 
 sea, there, with a serious air, Mohammed taught his uncle the 
 eagle's cry. 
 
 At first his uncle refused to imitate him and utter the cry 
 as directed, but Mohammed regarded him with so wild and 
 angry a look, and then entreated him in such soft and tender 
 tones to do it for his dear mother's sake, whose call would, 
 perhaps, be too weak to reach him, that the old man could at 
 last no longer refuse. 
 
 When he had imitated him in a loud, shrill voice, Moham- 
 med smiled and nodded approvingly. 
 
 " That will do. And if I should be ever so distant and 
 hear this cry, I will come home to mother. But tell me, Uncle 
 Toussoun Aga, tell me, by all that is holy, by the prophet and
 
 BOYISH DREAMS. 27 
 
 by the name of Allah, tell me the truth : is my mother 
 ill?" 
 
 Toussoun Aga's countenance assumed a very grave expres- 
 sion, and he looked down confused. 
 
 '' Answer me ! " cried Mohammed, vehemently. " Is my 
 mother ill ? In the name of the prophet, I command you to 
 tell me the truth ! " 
 
 " Do not demand it, son of my beloved brother, Ibrahim 
 Aga," said the old man, sorrowfully. ' It does not become 
 man to pry into the mysteries of Allah. We are all in Allah's 
 hand, and what he determines must be, and we should not at- 
 tempt to look into the future." 
 
 " Yet tell me and may Allah forgive me for wishing to 
 look into the future is my mother ill ? " 
 
 "She looks pale," murmured the old man. "When she 
 walks her breath is short, and, when she gives me her hands 
 in greeting, I feel them burn as though fire flowed in her 
 veins. But it may pass away, nephew. She may recover ; 
 she is still weak from her former illness ; you recollect the 
 severe fever she had ? But she will recover, and for this pur- 
 pose Mr. Lion sent her the strengthening wine ; it will do 
 her good, and she will get better. " 
 
 "Yes, she will get better," said the boy. " It is impossible 
 she should die, for I should then be entirely alone in the 
 world." 
 
 " Entirely alone ? " asked the old man, regarding him re- 
 proachfully. " As long as Toussoun Aga lives, his nephew, 
 Mohammed Ali, is not entirely alone." 
 
 Mohammed held out his hand. "Thanks, uncle." He 
 nodded to the old man, turned away, and sprang off over the 
 rocks with such rapid bounds that old Toussoun looked after 
 him in amazement. 
 
 " He leaps like a gazelle. Light is his step, and splendid 
 his figure. How long will he still bless his mother's sight ? 
 how long shall my old eyes be gladdened by this young ga- 
 zelle, this young eagle ? " 
 
 The old man bowed his head upon his breast, and two tears 
 trickled slowly down his cheeks.
 
 28 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PREMONITION OF DEATH. 
 
 SINCE the day when Mohammed had first conceived a dark 
 foreboding of his mother's insidious disease, he had become 
 more earnest and gloomy in his disposition. The other boys 
 avoided meeting and coming into collision with him ; they 
 paid the well-earned tribute of fruits from their parents' gar- 
 dens, and assumed an almost humble demeanor in his pres- 
 ence. He sometimes challenged them to race or wrestle with 
 him, but only the strongest and most active would enter into 
 such trials with him, and he always remained the victor. 
 They were in the habit of turning down a side street when 
 they saw him advancing toward them, and, when they ob- 
 served him among the rocks with his little gun on his shoulder, 
 they would hide themselves behind some rocky projection and 
 remain concealed until he had passed. But Mohammed saw 
 them. His eye would glitter when he passed their hiding- 
 places, and a contemptuous smile play about his lips. " The 
 hawks fear the eagle," he would murmur to himself, " but the 
 eagle will some day pluck out their feathers and show them 
 that he is master." 
 
 Striving to earn money to procure little luxuries for his 
 mother, he would more rarely absent himself from home for 
 longer periods than formerly. When the storm raged, and 
 the boldest fishermen feared to venture over to Imbro where 
 their nets were laid, Mohammed would offer to go for them, 
 provided they gave him double wages ; and the fishermen, 
 fearing that the wild waves might bear away their nets filled 
 with the rare fish that only came up from the deep during the 
 storm, would willingly accede to his demands. One day when 
 the sea was roaring and foaming wildly, one of the fishermen 
 stood upon the shore imploring Allah to save the nets he had 
 taken to Imbro the day before, and which, assuredly filled with 
 the rarest fish, had perhaps already become a prey to the waves. 
 
 " Why not go after them ? " said a mocking voice behind 
 him. " Go over and get your nets."
 
 PREMONITION OF DEATH. 29 
 
 The fisherman regarded the intrepid boy Mohammed, who 
 now stood at his side, with severity. " No one would venture 
 out in such a storm. Moreover, this is Thursday, the evil day 
 on which the ghins, who draw men into the deep, are abroad. 
 I must therefore lose my rich catch and the nets besides. 
 Your old uncle, Toussoun Aga, will be well pleased, how- 
 ever, for it will take all I have to purchase new nets from 
 him." 
 
 " My uncle can make no nets at present," said Mohammed. 
 " He has been ill for weeks ; I therefore advise you to save 
 those you have, as you will find it impossible to procure as 
 good ones from anybody else." 
 
 " A good piece of advice ! " cried the fisherman, angrily. 
 " But what am I to do if the storm tears my nets away ? " 
 
 "Try to save your nets," replied Mohammed, laughing. 
 " What will you give me if I go over and get them and the 
 catch of fish besides ? " 
 
 " You wouldn't attempt it ! Look how the waves roar and 
 open their wide jaws as if to devour you even here on the 
 shore ! You will not venture out." 
 
 " I know the waves," replied the boy, " and I know your 
 boat. It glides over the water like a nutshell, and the mon- 
 sters of the deep love me and will safely bear me over to the 
 island on their backs. I will go if you will give me what I 
 ask." 
 
 "What do you ask?" 
 
 " You shall give me half your fish. If I bring them over 
 safely, call four of your friends ; let them fairly estimate the 
 price, and then pay me my share. Will you agree to this, 
 Omar?" 
 
 " No, I will not ! This is unheard of ! " cried the fisher- 
 man, angrily. 
 
 "Just as you please," said Mohammed, quietly. "You 
 would rather lose the whole, than save half, and the nets be- 
 sides. Consider well that Toussoun Aga has perhaps made his 
 last nets, and that yours were quite new, and the finest quality 
 he ever made." 
 
 " Be satisfied with a fourth part of the fish, and the bargain 
 is made," said Omar, as he looked longingly toward the island,
 
 30 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 now, as the waves had subsided somewhat, visible as a dark 
 spot on the horizon. The boy regarded him angrily. 
 
 " I am no tradesman, and will not be cheapened. Half of 
 the fish, or I remain here." 
 
 " Well, if it must be, take half, you usurer ! " cried the en- 
 raged fisherman. 
 
 " Where is your boat ? " asked Mohammed, quietly. 
 
 " Down there in the inlet. And now be quick about it, 
 boy!" 
 
 'Directly! But every thing in its order. You must first 
 acknowledge the bargain before witnesses." 
 
 " Before witnesses ? " cried the enraged fisherman. " Is 
 not Allah the witness of an honest man's promise ? " 
 
 " He is. But who knows but the roaring of the storm has 
 prevented your words from ascending to his ear?" replied 
 Mohammed, with a mocking smile. " I will bring Mr. Lion ; 
 you can repeat your words before him." 
 
 Before Omar could prevent him, the boy bounded away to 
 the merchant, and begged him to come and witness Omar's 
 promise. The merchant willingly followed his favorite in 
 spite of the storm and the spray which the waves tossed up to 
 the spot where the men were standing. When he learned 
 what was in contemplation, and when Omar had repeated his 
 promise, the merchant shook his head resolutelj T . " This can- 
 not and shall not be. You shall not drive the boy out in such 
 weather ; the sea is an open grave, as it were ! " 
 
 " Mr. Lion ! " cried Mohammed, advancing toward him, 
 his arms folded on his breast. " Look at me ! Why do you 
 call me a boy ? Am I not taller than many of the men 
 on our island ; am I not stronger than many boys of eigh- 
 teen?" 
 
 " It is true," said Mr. Lion. "Though only fourteen, you 
 are no longer a boy. I beg your pardon, Mohammed Ali, for 
 considering your years and not your strength. But all the 
 same, whether youth or boy, no one goes to sea in such 
 weather." 
 
 " I will show you that one does go to sea in such weather, 
 when good wages are to be made ! " exclaimed Mohammed, as 
 he, before the merchant could prevent him, quickly ran down
 
 PREMONITION OF DEATH. 31 
 
 to the little inlet, loosened Omar's boat from its fastening, and 
 sprang- into it. 
 
 He was soon out among the waves. They roar and surge 
 around him, but what cares he ? He throws himself down in 
 the boat and holds fast with both hands. The waves alter- 
 nately lift him aloft, and bury him out of sight. It is splendid 
 sport. It is long since Mohammed has felt so well as now, 
 when tossed in his frail skiff on the foaming deep. He shouts 
 in exultation : 
 
 " Thus will I battle my life long ! Thus will I ever van- 
 quish difficulties through life ! And see, the wind is favorable, 
 and I shall get over ! " 
 
 What he had exultingly shouted to the waves, took place ; 
 he got safely over, found the nets in good condition, drew 
 them ashore, and waited on the rock until the storm had some- 
 what subsided. Really it seemed that Sitta Khadra was right : 
 his agathodaemon watched over him, for, sooner than usual, 
 the tempest calmed down, and the sun broke forth from be- 
 hind the clouds. It was now a comparatively easy matter for 
 Mohammed to get back to the opposite shore where Omar was 
 awaiting him with several of his comrades. The fisherman's 
 face was angry and lowering. It annoyed him that he had 
 not waited for the storm to go down, instead of making the 
 bargain with Mohammed, for he must now keep his word and 
 pay the boy what he had earned. This day his rich catch of 
 fish gave Omar no pleasure. His face grew darker and darker, 
 while the men were opening the nets and counting the fish. 
 It was well that the shrewd boy had caused Omar to repeat his 
 promise before a witness, and before so highly esteemed a wit- 
 ness, for the fisherman would have otherwise refused, in all 
 probability, to share the harvest of his nets with Moham- 
 med. 
 
 He was now compelled to yield to the decision of the fisher- 
 men, who declared that the half of the fish caught were worth 
 at least four ducats. The boy's eyes sparkled with delight as 
 Omar reluctantly and hesitatingly drew the money from his 
 long leather purse and handed it to him. 
 
 " It will bring you no blessing ! " growled the fisherman, 
 " You are a greedy, headstrong boy ; you deprive the father
 
 32 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 of a family of half his hard earnings. The ghins will pay you 
 back for what you have swindled me out of." 
 
 " I have swindled you out of nothing. I risked my life for 
 four ducats, have earned them honestly, and it does not be- 
 come you to abuse me for it before these people. Speak your- 
 selves, you men, am I right ? " 
 
 " Certainly you are right," they cried with one voice. 
 
 " No ; no one can abuse you for receiving your well-earned 
 wages," said Mr. Lion, beckoning to the boy to follow him. 
 " You must be exhausted come with me to my home. You 
 shall dine with me and drink a glass of wine. Your clothes 
 are thoroughly drenched ; you shall dry them at the fire." 
 
 Mohammed laughed. " Wet I am, to be sure, but the fire 
 that burns in my veins will soon dry the stuff. I will, how- 
 ever, gladly eat a little and drink a glass of wine with you. 
 It was a hard fight with the sea-monsters, they seemed to roar 
 in my ears, ' We will have you, we will pull you down ! ' 
 And yet it sounded sweetly ! There is no finer music than 
 when the sea-monsters come up from the deep and sing their 
 wild songs." 
 
 " You are a strange being," said Mr. Lion, regarding him 
 lovingly. " I rejoice in you, and, if it were not that people 
 would say of me that I wished to convert a Mussulman to my 
 religion, I would gladly adopt you as my son. Tell me, if I 
 should leave this place, would you go with me to the land of 
 the Franks, accept my religion, and become the heir of my 
 fortune ? " 
 
 " And you ask this ? Say that it was a jest ! For you 
 surely could not desire that the son of his father should be- 
 come a renegade ! No, Mr. Lion, a Mussulman who could al- 
 low himself to be converted into a Christian dog pardon me 
 for having uttered this word, it was not intended for you, 
 but" 
 
 " But only for the Christian dog ! " said Mr. Lion, smiling. 
 "Let us leave it as it is. You have offended me, and I you. 
 Let us be friends again, and empty a glass with each 
 other." 
 
 Mohammed accompanied him to his house and ate with 
 him and drank of the fiery Cyprian wine. After having re-
 
 PREMONITION OF DEATH. 33 
 
 freshed and strengthened himself, he turned to Mr. Lion with 
 a merry countenance : 
 
 " Now to a little business matter that I have to transact 
 with you ; for, if I had not met you below, I should have 
 come up here after you. Look at my four magnificent ducats ; 
 I should like to invest them with you. " 
 
 " You are a shrewd lad, and are disposed to improve your 
 good fortune. That is right, and without so doing, one makes 
 no progress in the world." 
 
 " You shall invest them with me, and they shall bear you 
 good interest." 
 
 " Not in that way," cried Mohammed. " I have no desire 
 to lay a grain of sand on a mountain, with the expectation 
 that it will bear fruit, whereas it is only lost among the others. 
 No, I wish to buy goods. You have always been kind and 
 friendly to me, and from me you will certainly not demand 
 as much as from the rich people of the town, or the governor." 
 
 " You are right, Mohammed. You shall have the goods at 
 the price they cost me. What will you have ? " 
 
 " A magnificent silk dress, and a long white veil, such as 
 the ladies of rank wear. " 
 
 " See, see ! " exclaimed the merchant, regarding the boy, 
 whose eyes fairly sparkled in amazement. " You were right, 
 Mohammed, you are no longer a boy. You are in love, and it 
 is assuredly a bride to whom Mohammed wishes to present 
 this love-offering ? " 
 
 " No, Mr. Lion, no bride, but a love-offering the articles 
 certainly are." 
 
 " Only an amorous intrigue, then ? " asked the merchant, 
 shrugging his shoulders. " You are beginning early with such 
 things, Mohammed. Yet I am glad you are not about to 
 affiance yourself, as is customary here at your age, with a girl 
 ten years old, whose eyes please you, or who has a good 
 dower ; ten years later, after she has been long-veiled, and 
 you no longer know how she looks, you marry her and take 
 a wife to your home, whom to be sure you have often seen 
 veiled, and often spoken to, but of whose present looks you 
 know nothing." 
 
 " If we do not like her, we send her back to her mother.
 
 34: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 There is nothing that binds us to keep the woman we do not 
 like, and our prophet has arranged this very wisely while 
 you Christians must keep the woman, though you sometimes 
 find yourselves very badly deceived. Praise to Allah, and 
 thanks to the prophet ! " 
 
 " Then it is an amorous intrigue ? Well, I will not demand 
 the reason, for the young gentleman certainly knows the 
 first law of love discretion," observed the merchant, with a 
 smile. 
 
 " I have no use for that law," said Mohammed, proudly. 
 " You shall know. This love-offering is for my mother. She 
 is the only woman I love, and she will also be the only one 
 I shall ever love. Give me a beautiful dress, richly embroid- 
 ered, and a veil adorned with golden fringe. She shall go no 
 more to the mosque so poorly dressed. She shall be magnifi- 
 cently arrayed, that she may be envied by all other women. 
 Give me something very handsome." 
 
 " You shall have it, my boy. Excuse me for calling you 
 so again, but this time it is done to show you my love for 
 your childlike heart. Come with me to the hall. You shall 
 select the handsomest dress, regardless of the cost." 
 
 He led him to the hall in which he kept the magnificent 
 goods from which the ladies in the harems of the Turks of 
 rank were accustomed to select their festal dresses, and spread 
 the beautiful goods out before Mohammed. The boy's eyes 
 sparkled with pleasure as he beheld this costly array. He se- 
 lected a magnificent piece of purple satin embroidered with 
 silver, and an Indian veil of the finest make, adorned with 
 fringe of real gold. It was a suit that would have delighted 
 the daughters of the sultan at Stamboul, and it did not occur 
 to Mohammed that it was worth at least ten times as much as 
 he had to give for it. Mr. Lion took the four ducats with a 
 smile, and handed him the beautiful goods wrapped in gilt- 
 edged paper. Mohammed, proud of his bargain, took the pack- 
 age, and ran in breathless haste to his mother. 
 
 " Here, mother, I bring you something you will like ! " he 
 cried. 
 
 " Yourself ? " asked Khadra, with a gentle smile. " I need 
 nothing else."
 
 PREMONITION OF DEATH. 35 
 
 " Yes, Mother Khadra, you do need something else. You 
 need a dress and a veil, such as the other ladies of rank wear. 
 Do not be alarmed, mother, it is honestly acquired. There, 
 take it, and rejoice ! " He spread the costly goods out before 
 her, expecting her to cry out with delight. But she only 
 hecame sad ; on her pale cheeks glowed the roses which 
 Death bestows on those whom he is about to call to himself. 
 
 " My son ! " said she. " This magnificence is not for me ! " 
 
 " Yes, Mother Khadra, it is indeed for you. Ask the mer- 
 chant, Lion ; I paid for it honestly. You think, perhaps, I 
 have not noticed that the dress in which you go to the mosque 
 is torn and faded ? You think, perhaps, I do not know that your 
 head-dress has often been mended ? I well know that it has 
 been. I know, too, that the women laugh and say mocking- 
 ly : 'She has not even a Sahbath dress, and appears before 
 Allah in the garb of a beggar ! ' Therefore, I rejoice at hav- 
 ing been able to procure a new dress for you, mother. Have 
 it made, in order that you may appear before Allah in festive 
 attire." 
 
 " No, my son, it is impossible," said Khadra sadly, as Mo- 
 hammed held out the costly package. 
 
 " Why impossible ? " cried he, excitedly. 
 
 " Because it does not become the widow of Ibrahim, the 
 poor woman, to array herself in garments of purple, gold-em- 
 broidered satin, like the ladies of rank. The women would 
 laugh at and mock me more than ever if I should wear such 
 magnificent garments instead of my faded dress. Neither can 
 I wear the veil. You can preserve all this to give to your 
 bride some day. It does not become old Sitta Khadra to adorn 
 herself thus." 
 
 " You are not old, Mother Khadra," said he, in half -tender, 
 half-angry tones. " You are still young, and when you adorn 
 yourself with these garments, there will be no handsomer 
 woman in all Cavalla than Sitta Khadra. I beg you to put 
 them on ; but, to please me, leave the veil a little open, as 
 the other women do, that people may see how beautiful my 
 mother is." 
 
 " This is folly, and I am glad no one else hears your auda- 
 cious words. No chaste woman opens her veil to permit the
 
 36 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 gaze of disrespectful men to fall on her, and my son Mo- 
 hammed does not wish to blush for his mother. My son, 
 take back this package to Mr. Lion. I cannot wear such 
 clothes." 
 
 " You will not take them ? " said the boy, hastily seizing 
 the package. " What my heart's warmest love offers, you re- 
 ject ? " 
 
 " I reject it," said she, gently. " I have no need of such 
 clothes." 
 
 " Very well," cried he, defiantly. " If you do not need 
 these clothes, I will give them to the mermaids. They, too, 
 like fine clothes, and they will thank me more for that which 
 I have bought with my life. Yes, I will do this ! " 
 
 He rushed to the door with such violence that Khadra 
 could hardly recall him. " Where are you going, Moham- 
 med ? " 
 
 "To the cliffs. What my mother despises I will throw 
 into the sea." 
 
 " Well, if you are about to do that, it shall be as you wish," 
 said the mother, leading him back from the door. " If the 
 mermaids are to have these beautiful things, it is better Mother 
 Khadra should keep them." 
 
 " You promise me to wear these clothes ? " said he, a smile 
 suddenly illuminating his face. 
 
 Khadra seated herself, spread out the beautiful goods, and 
 regarded them with a mournful smile. " It looks like mock- 
 ery." 
 
 u No, not like mockery, but like pure love," said the boy, 
 eagerly. "My love dresses you in pui-ple and gold, and I 
 wish to see Sitta Khadra the most brilliant among women." 
 A blissful smile suffused itself over his features. But suddenly 
 this smile disappeared, and his countenance assumed an ex- 
 pression of care and anxiety. At this moment he saw how 
 pale his mother was. Her pallor contrasted strangely with 
 the purple lustre of the goods she held in her hands. 
 
 " You are not ill, Mother Khadra ; you are not suffering ? '* 
 said he, in the same anxious tone in which he had so often 
 asked. 
 
 " No, my son, I am not ill," said she, regarding him calmly.
 
 THE STORY-TELLER. 37 
 
 *' When I shall some day wear this beautiful dress, and this 
 gold-embroidered veil, you will take delight in me. Thank 
 you, child of my heart, light of my eyes ! Thank you for 
 this splendid present ! I will hold it in honor while life 
 lasts." 
 
 " I thank you for accepting it, and beg you not to be angry 
 with me for having been so violent," said Mohammed, en- 
 treatingly, as he kissed his mother's extended hand. " Tell 
 me once more, mother, are you well ; do you feel no pain ? " 
 
 " I feel well, and am not suffering," said she, regarding 
 Mm lovingly. '' I should gladly see you indulge yourself in 
 one of your walks to the cliffs or mountains. It is long since 
 you have taken one. I feel better than usual. I shall go to 
 your sick uncle to wait on him, and when I return I shall lie 
 <lown. You need not fear that I am waiting for you. Go to 
 the mountains, beloved of my heart ! " 
 
 " I shall do so gladly," he cried, embracing and kissing her 
 heartily. He then walked with hasty steps to the door of the 
 hut., and out into the free air. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE STORY-TELLER. 
 
 " I HAVE done work enough to day," murmured Moham- 
 med to himself, as, after having left his mother, he walked 
 through the dirty suburb to the stairway hewn in the rock 
 that led down to the cliffs. " Yes, I have worked enough, and 
 mother is well ; I will therefore go to my paradise, and rest 
 there awhile." 
 
 He sprang down the stairway and walked hastily toward 
 the cliffs. After looking cautiously around, he crept through 
 the narrow opening in the rocks into the passage. The silence 
 did him good, and a happy smile played about his lips. '* Here 
 I am king," he cried, loudly and joyously. "This is my 
 realm, and I shall soon enter my throne-chamber. How have 
 I longed for this ! how glad am I ! " Suddenly he stood still.
 
 38 MOHAMMED ALT AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 "What were Mother Khadra's words?" he asked himself. 
 " ' Only he who practises self-denial can enjoy.' Have I not 
 always said to myself that I would accustom myself to want, 
 and learn to enjoy by denying myself that which pleases me ? 
 Have I not said that I would not walk on rose-leaves, but learn 
 to tread on thorns, that my feet might become inured to 
 pain ? And now, like a foolish child, I am delighted at the 
 prospect of entering my cave, my throne-chamber ! ' Only 
 he who practises self-denial can enjoy.' Remember that, Mo- 
 hammed, and learn to practise self-denial ; I will learn it ! " 
 he cried so loudly that his voice resounded throughout the 
 entire cave. 
 
 He turned and retraced his steps. " I would gladly have 
 gone into my cave, would gladly have reclined on my mat, 
 have looked up at the blue sky, and down into the beautiful 
 sea, that tells me such wondrous stories. Folly ! I can hear 
 stories elsewhere. Scha-er Mehsed tells stories, too, and on 
 the whole that is more convenient than to tell them to my- 
 self." 
 
 He walks on hastily, without turning once to look back at 
 his beloved grotto, walks on into the world, to men whom he 
 does not love, and who do not love him. 
 
 He will learn to practise self-denial, and joyfully he now 
 says to himself : " I am already learning it, and now I can 
 also enjoy." 
 
 At this moment he observed Tschorbadji Hassan, who had 
 just turned a corner of the street, advancing, followed by his 
 servants. 
 
 When he perceived the boy, he stood still and greeted him 
 with a gracious smile. Mohammed, his arms folded on his 
 breast, inclined his head profoundly before the mighty 
 man. 
 
 " See, Mohammed ! The splendid shot ! You come at the 
 right moment, Mohammed ; I had already sent out a slave 
 after you. Osman, my poor sick son, craves a strange repast. 
 He has seen pigeons whirling through the air, and thinks, 
 probably, because he knows they are not easily to be had, that 
 there can be nothing better in the world than a roasted wild- 
 pigeon. Now, I know, Mohammed Ali, that no one can use a
 
 THE STORY-TELLER. 39 
 
 gun better than yourself, and it would give me great satisfac- 
 tion to have you procure some of these birds for my son." 
 
 " I will do it gladly, because it is for Osman," replied Mo- 
 hammed. " I will bring them myself, within the hour. I beg 
 you, gracious master, to tell your son that I am glad to be able 
 to do something for him. I must be off after my gun." 
 
 Mohammed withdraws himself with a total absence of cere- 
 mony, not waiting until Tschorbadji Hassan Bey dismisses 
 him with a gracious wave of the hand. He flies to his 
 mother's hut, takes down his gun from the wall, and loads it. 
 He then climbs rapidly among the cliffs in search of the wild- 
 pigeons for the poor sick Osman. 
 
 In an hour, Mohammed returned with his game. As he 
 walked along, carrying the four birds in his hand, he said to 
 himself with a smile : *' Was it not well that I learned to deny 
 myself a pleasure ? And here I have the recompense, the en- 
 joyment. For it is a recompense to be able to gratify a wish 
 of dear good Osman ; he was always so kind to me." 
 
 He now entered the court-yard of the palace in which 
 Tschorbadji Hassan Bey resided. An Armenian slave stood 
 at the gate, who seemed to have been awaiting the boys. He 
 bowed profoundly, which he had never done before, and an- 
 nounced that his grace Osman Bey was in the garden, and had 
 ordered that Mohammed Ali should bring the pigeons himself, 
 and that Tschorbadji Hassan was also there awaiting him. 
 
 " Show me the way, I will follow," said Mohammed, whose 
 tranquil countenance gave no indication that he felt flattered 
 at the great honor of being admitted to the garden. 
 
 The Armenian led the way with an air of profound respect. 
 Proudly, his head erect, Mohammed followed him through the 
 wide hall of the palace and into the garden. 
 
 The fragrance arising from the carefully-cultivated flower- 
 beds was delightful ; the kiosks and baldachins were so 
 charming ! " Paradise must be like this," thought Mohammed, 
 and he breathed the fragrant air with delight. But he turned 
 his head neither to the right nor to the left, that no one might 
 observe how wondrously beautiful everything seemed to him, 
 and that he had never before seen any thing so magnificent. 
 
 There, under the beautiful tent with the golden tassels, and
 
 40 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 the gold-glittering star there, on a couch, reclined a pale, 
 thin boy, and at his side, on a chair richly embroidered, sat 
 Tschorbadji Hassan. 
 
 As Mohammed now advanced with elastic step, his head 
 erect, the two looked at him in admiration. 
 
 " How splendid he looks ! " murmured the pale boy. 
 '' That is health, father, and life. He is just my age, and only 
 look at me ! " 
 
 The tschorbadji suppressed a sigh, and smiled gently as he 
 looked at his son. "You are ill, my Osman. Allah will 
 grant you speedy recovery, and then you will become strong 
 and healthy like Mohammed Ali. Well!'' he cried to the 
 boy who had stood still at some distance with his birds in his 
 hand" well, I see you have kept your word, and brought my 
 son the wild-pigeons." 
 
 " I have, and am glad that I was able to do so," replied Mo- 
 hammed, as he now came nearer in obedience to the bey's re- 
 quest, and greeted the pale boy with a joyous smile. 
 
 " Give me your hand, Mohammed," said the young bey, 
 who had partially risen from his cushions, and was supporting 
 himself on his elbow. Timidly, Mohammed took the boy's 
 pale, thin hand in his own. 
 
 " Tell me, Mohammed, why do you not come to see me 
 oftener ? You know how glad I always am to see you." 
 
 " Master, I did not visit you, because it does not become the 
 poor to intrude upon the rich and noble," replied Mohammed, 
 his eyes fixed with an anxious expression on Osnian's pale 
 face. 
 
 " Eich and noble ! " repeated Osman, with a sigh. " You 
 are rich, Mohammed, for you are healthy. You are noble, 
 Mohammed, for the inhabitants of the sea and of the air must 
 obey you. You have power, and that is nobility." 
 
 The tschorbadji was displeased with these humble words of 
 his son, and his brow became clouded. 
 
 " I think you should be content with your riches and no- 
 bility, my son," said he. "Come, hand me the pigeons, Mo- 
 hammed." 
 
 He took the beautifully feathered birds from Mohammed's 
 hand, looked at them, and let their feathers play in the sun-
 
 THE STORY-TELLER. 41 
 
 light. " Yes, they are still warm ; so the world goes. An 
 hour since they disported themselves in life's sunshine. The 
 child of man comes, sends a few shot through their bodies, and 
 their glory is at an end. But, I thank you, Mohammed, for 
 having so quickly complied with our wish. Here is your re- 
 ward." He took two gold -pieces from his purse and handed 
 them to the boy in his outstretched hand. 
 
 Mohammed did not take them. He drew back at the words 
 of the governor, a deep color suffusing itself over his cheeks. 
 
 Osman perceived this, and motioned to him to come nearer 
 to his couch. " Mohammed," said he, " father forgot to add 
 for what purpose he wished to give you the money. Not for 
 yourself. I know that your procuring these pigeons for me 
 was an act of friendship. You have always been friendly to 
 me, and I shall never forget what you did for me the other 
 day." 
 
 " What was it ? " asked the tschorbadji, with surprise. 
 
 " You know nothing of it, father. I did not mention it to 
 you because I feared it might make you angry," replied Osman, 
 gently. " I had had myself carried out on the rock. You 
 know I like to rest there, in the sunlight, under the olive-tree 
 that stretches out its limbs over the water. From that point 
 you can look so far out over the sea. There you can see 
 where heaven and earth unite, and strange dreams and wishes 
 come over me there. The sea murmurs at my feet in such 
 wondrous, mysterious tones, that my heart warms and my 
 breast expands. The physician, too, had said that I should 
 breathe the fresh air of the cliffs very often, and I had been 
 carried out, and lay there at rest in sweet, solitary silence. I 
 did not observe that the sky was darkening, and a storm com- 
 ing on. It also escaped the notice of the two servants who 
 had carried me out in the chair. Now that the rain already 
 began to fall in large drops, they became alarmed, and both ran 
 away rapidly to procure a covered palanquin, as the physician 
 had said I must be carefully guarded against taking cold. 
 They had hardly gone and left me alone when it began to 
 rain harder, and I felt the large drops slowly trickling down 
 upon me through the leaves of the olive-tree. The rain was 
 very cold. The storm raged and tore the protecting foliage of 
 4
 
 42 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 the tree apart. Suddenly I heard footsteps. It was Mohammed 
 All. He was rapidly passing by, but when he saw me lying 
 there under the tree, alone, he came up to me, and understood 
 the situation at a glance. In spite of my resistance, he spread 
 his body over me, and protected me from the rain and dis- 
 comfort. 
 
 " When the servants arrived with the palanquin I had re- 
 mained perfectly dry, while Mohammed was wet to the skin. 
 I begged him to come with me. I begged him to accept a gift. 
 He refused both, and cried, laughing, as he ran away to escape 
 my further thanks : ' For me it was only a welcome bath ! 
 You it would have hurt, Osman. ' " 
 
 '* Good, by Allah ! That was well done," said the tschor- 
 badji, with his aristocratic smile. " You served my son as an 
 umbrella. I thank you for it, Mohammed, and will reward 
 you. A new mantle shall be brought you, for I perceive that 
 your own is torn and old." 
 
 "I thank you, master. It is good enough for me. This 
 mantle is an inheritance from my father. Mother preserved 
 it for ten years, and now I wear it, and wear it with pride, as 
 a souvenir of my father. Thanks for your kind offer." 
 
 "Then take the money," said the tschorbadji. "You see I 
 still hold it in my hand." 
 
 " Thanks, master, I have no need of the money." 
 
 " You must take it, Mohammed," said Osman, gently. " As 
 I told you before, father has forgotten to add for what pur- 
 pose he gives it. You are to go and hear the new scha-er, the 
 story-teller. Do you know him already ? " 
 
 " No, Osman, I do not. What of this scha-er ? " 
 
 "I have heard him much spoken of," replied Osman, 
 gently. " He is a rival of the old scha-er, Mehsed. You know 
 the old one always sits in the middle of the market-place, on 
 a stone, and tells the people stories of the olden time, and of 
 the magnificence of the Turkish Empire. Now a new story- 
 teller has come, from Constantinople it is said, and people say 
 his stories are very beautiful. But he does not seat himself 
 on a stone in the middle of the market, but in the wide hall of 
 a store. There he has hired a corner, and there he sits. 
 Around himself, as far as his voice reaches, he has fastened a
 
 THE STORY-TELLER. 43 
 
 rope to stakes, and whoever wishes to enter the circle thus 
 formed must pay to hear his stories. I should like to do so, 
 too, and have often entreated my father to allow me, but they 
 say it would excite me too much, and that the air of the hall 
 would be too close for me. Therefore, Mohammed, I beg you 
 to go there for me, listen to the stories, and then come and 
 repeat them to me. You see it was for this purpose father 
 gave you the money. Is it not so, father ? " 
 
 " Yes, my boy, it shall be so if you desire it. I give him 
 die money that he may hear the new scha-er, and if it enter- 
 tains and pleases you. Mohammed shall come to you and relate 
 what he has heard." 
 
 " Will you afford me this pleasure, Mohammed ? I am not 
 strong and healthy like you ; I cannot climb the rocks like 
 you ; cannot sit on the cliffs and listen to the voice of the sea 
 and the storm ; cannot, like you, enjoy the delight of taking 
 exercise in the open air ! Here I lie on my bed, and all that 
 is good and beautiful must come to me, if I am to enjoy it. 
 Then come to me, Mohammed Ali ! " 
 
 With a kindly look, he again held out his pale, attenuated 
 hand, and Mohammed felt that warm tears were trickling 
 down his cheeks, and that somehow he could not speak while 
 the pale handsome boy was locking at him s_ entreatingly. 
 He took Osman's hand and pressed heartily in his own. 
 
 "I accept the money from Tschorbadji Hassan," said he, in 
 low, soft tones. " I shall go and listen to the new scha-er, and, 
 if you wish, Osman, I shall come to-morrow, and every day, 
 to relate to you what I have heard ; and it will please me if it 
 gives you pleasure." 
 
 u I thank you, Mohammed, and beg you to come to-morrow 
 ready to relate to me. Give me the money, father," said he, 
 addressing his father, with a gentle smile. " I will give it to 
 Mohammed for the scha-er." 
 
 He took the money, and Mohammed willingly accepted it 
 from him, and thanked him. 
 
 " I will go to the scha-er at once, for this is his hour, I be- 
 lieve." 
 
 He bowed hastily and slightly before the tschorbadji, but 
 profoundly and reverentially before the poor pale boy, and rap-
 
 44 MOHAMMED ALT AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 idly walked back toward the gate, thinking not of the beauti- 
 ful flowers that surrounded him, rejoicing only at being able 
 to do something for Osman Bey, and rejoicing, too, at the 
 prospect of listening to the scha-er. 
 
 It was just the hour at which the new scha-er, the rival of 
 old Mehsed, began to relate his stories in the hall. With an 
 earnest, respectful air, the men and boys sat around in the 
 wide circle on their mats, and listened, slowly moving their 
 bodies to and fro, to what the scha-er was relating. 
 
 Mohammed noiselessly entered the circle, and seating him- 
 self as close as he could in front of the- scha-er, listened in 
 breathless attention to the loud, resonant voice that told of the 
 glories of the past : 
 
 " I have not come to tell you of the fatherland to-day, not 
 of Turkish might and grandeur. Your humble servant has 
 been proclaiming to you their wonders for the last few days," 
 said he. "To-day I have turned my gaze toward distant 
 worlds and kingdoms. I am about to tell you of the prov- 
 inces converted into parts of our realm by the power of the 
 sultan. Have you heard of the land that lies over there be- 
 yond the sea the land of the Egyptians ? Great is the his- 
 tory of this people, and from it we can learn that Allah alone 
 is great, and that, next to him, and next to the prophet, noth- 
 ing is so great as our emperor and master, our Sultan Selim, 
 at Stamboul, on his imperishable throne. I told you yester- 
 day of the origin of the kingdom of Egypt, and of the strug- 
 gles carried on by barbarian hordes against each other. I 
 then went on to tell you of the caliphs of Bagdad, how they 
 had ruled in Egypt, and how they, too, were overthrown in 
 their magnificence. Now listen. Egypt was lost to the 
 caliphs of Bagdad ; after long struggles their rule was at an 
 end forever. A fortunate soldier, named Tokid, possessed 
 himself of the rich and fertile kingdom that lies beyond the 
 ocean. He held the reins of government with a strong hand, 
 and an army of four hundred thousand men spread themselves 
 over the whole land, like a swarm of hornets and grasshoppers, 
 and held the trembling people in subjection. But he died, 
 and a black slave named Kafour, took the sceptre from the 
 hands of the dying man, and said, ' He gave it to me as to his
 
 THE STORY-TELLER. 45 
 
 successor.' And the four hundred thousand hornets and 
 grasshoppers repeated these words, and the nation howed its 
 head and submitted to the rule of this black man. 
 
 " But one man had the courage to defy this slave. He was 
 a descendant of the house of Ali, which could boast of being 
 the house of the great prophet. 
 
 "Mahadi Obeidallah was the name of this grandson of 
 Ali. He was strong and mighty before Allah, and he held in 
 his strong hand the green flag of the prophet, of his ancestor, 
 an heir-loom in his family, as he landed from his ships with 
 his troops, at Alexandria, the great city that lies on the shore 
 of Africa, and belongs to the realm of Egypt. 
 
 "Nothing could resist the descendant of the prophet, and 
 Mahadi Obeidallah erected his throne in Alexandria. The 
 conquest of Egypt, begun by him, was finished by his grand- 
 son, Moez. He brought a hundred thousand men, commanded 
 by his vizier Jauhar, to Alexandria, and marched with them 
 through the desert toward the great city of Fostal, which 
 Caliph Amrou had built. 
 
 " Near this great city, Jauhar founded another with splen- 
 did walls and palaces, and he called it El-Kahera that is, the 
 ' Victorious.' Proudly, victoriously, beside the old city of Fos- 
 tal, arose the new city of El-Kahera, the wondrous city ! Moez 
 sat enthroned there in the midst of his realm, and he founded 
 in El-Kahera, the Victorious, the dynasty of the Fatimite 
 caliphs ; for Fatima, the daughter of the prophet Mohammed, 
 had married Ali, who was the head of the house from which 
 Moez and Jauhar descended. 
 
 "The new city, El-Kahera arose quickly, and soon became 
 the model for all that was beautiful in the arts and sciences in 
 Egypt. The haughty Bagdad, once so mighty, sank into the 
 dust before her. 
 
 " But the Fatimites were neither wiser nor more fortunate 
 than the Abbassites, of whom I told you yesterday, had been. 
 The people could not love them, for the Fatimites ruled 
 tyrannically, and knew nothing of pity and love ; and the re- 
 ligion of the prophet, which teaches that we should love and 
 do good to our fellow-men, they practised with their tongues 
 only, but not in reality. They thought it sufficient to be able
 
 46 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 to call themselves descendants of the great prophet, without 
 imitating him in his good works. 
 
 '' At last one of them even dared to proclaim himself the 
 prophet. His name was Hakem. To him it did not seem 
 enough to be the descendant of Mohammed, of our great proph- 
 et he wished to be king and prophet himself. He desired to 
 found a new religion, and, because the inhabitants of El-Ka- 
 hera would not bow down before him in the dust, and aban- 
 don their prophet, Mohammed, for his sake, he caused the one 
 half of the beautiful city of El-Kahera, the Victorious, to be 
 laid in ashes, and he allowed his wild hordes to plunder and 
 rob the other half. He rejoiced in this, and imagined Allah 
 would be contented. He said, too, that Allah conversed with 
 him each day, and gave him instructidns with his own lips. 
 It was for this purpose that he went daily into the mountains 
 of Mokatan, which rise on the banks of the Nile, near the city ; 
 and there he, a second Moses, communed, as he declared, with 
 Allaii. 
 
 " But one day he did not return from the mountains, and 
 when his janizaries sought him they found him lying dead on 
 the ground, pierced with daggers. 
 
 " The Fatimites had ruled over Egypt for two hundred 
 years. Their glory was now at an end, and Allah sent the 
 unbelievers as a scourge to punish those who had dared to set 
 themselves above the prophet, to punish the sons of Hakem 
 who had declared himself to be the prophet. 
 
 " The unbelievers, who called themselves Christians, came, 
 therefore, with a cross on their arms, and a cross on their ban- 
 ners, conquered El-Kahera, and levied a tribute of many mil- 
 lions of piasters. But the Caliph Addad, a son of Hakem, 
 called to his assistance Noureddin, the ruler of the land 
 of Alep, who sent him a powerful army, and the army 
 of the Christian dogs was scattered like dust before the 
 winds. 
 
 " Yet Addad reaped no blessing from the assistance thus 
 called to his side the son was to be punished for the misdeeds 
 and tyranny of his father Hakem. A strong and mighty man 
 had come with Noureddin's army ; he made himself Addad's 
 vizier, then* commander-in-chief, and Addad died of mortifi-
 
 THE MAMELUKES. 47 
 
 cation. Saladin the son of Ayoub, assumed his place, and 
 became the ruler of Egypt, and founded the dynasty of the 
 
 Ayoubites." 
 
 CHAPTEE VI. 
 
 THE MAMELUKES. 
 
 THE scha-er paused a moment, and directed a glance of his 
 wild black eyes at the audience surrounding him. The men 
 regarded him with profound gravity, and nodded their heads 
 in approval, and requested him to proceed. 
 
 Rejoicing at his success, he continued in a loud voice : 
 " But the rule of the Ayoubites did not last long ; it was even 
 more brief than that of the Fatimites. 
 
 " The reign of the ten sultans distinguished the short and 
 glorious history of their house, which, above all, loved show 
 and splendor. The palaces of these proud rulers of El-Kahera 
 were crowded with servants and slaves. 
 
 '' It was at this time that the Mogul, Genghis Khan, assem- 
 bled all the Tartar hordes of his land under his banner. They 
 followed him to the banks of the Tigris, and nothing but ter- 
 ror and desolation, ashes and bones, were found where they 
 had passed. Burning and destroying, they marched to the 
 banks of the Caspian Sea. Lamentations followed, and 
 numberless corpses encumbered the track of his army. At 
 last, weary of their bloody work, the Mongols stopped to rest 
 in beautiful Circassia. 
 
 " Here they purchased slaves for their masters. One Ayou- 
 bite alone purchased twelve thousand young men : with them 
 he repaired to Asia Minor, where he dressed them in rich, glit- 
 tering garments, and called them his Mamelukes, that is, 
 'those he had acquired and paid for.' And now, listen, ye 
 men of Cavalla, in this manner there arose in history a new 
 tribe, a new race, and it gave itself the name of Mamelukes. 
 Even the sultan formed for his service a corps out of their 
 race ; they became mighty and valiant, increased from genera- 
 tion to generation, and before them rulers trembled. Yes, 
 even the Sultan at Stamboul feared their might.
 
 48 MOHAMMED AL1 AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 "The Mamelukes, however, dethroned the last Ayoubite, 
 the one who had purchased them. The Mamelukes van- 
 quished all the Christian dogs who came to the holy land to 
 fight for what they call the holy grave. They murdered the 
 last sultan. They then placed on the throne one of their own 
 race, a Mameluke. And observe, ye men of Cavalla. with this 
 begins a new era in the history of this land : the Mamelukes 
 mount the throne, and make themselves masters of Egypt. 
 
 " But upon this fearful deed, follow disorder, revolt, terror, 
 blood, and death ! I could tell you much more of the atroci- 
 ties done by the Mamelukes, unheard of as yet by any of you, 
 and such as the history of no other land can exhibit. I could 
 relate to you the histories of all the other nations of the world, 
 but if ye listened, ye men of Cavalla, to the history of the 
 Mamelukes of the last century, the events of all the other 
 lands of the world would sound to you, compared with the 
 deeds that have been done in the land of the Egyptians since 
 the year 620, after the birth of the great prophet Mohammed, 
 like nursery-tales. On the grave of the prophet sat, her fea- 
 tures shrouded in a bloody veil, the holy spirit of the history 
 of the world, sadly recording the atrocious deeds of the cruel, 
 implacable forty-seven tyrants who reigned on the bloody 
 throne of El-Kahera during two hundred and sixty-three years. 
 Seventeen of them were murdered, and eighteen of their suc- 
 cessors dethroned. The rule of each lasting but a few moons. 
 The tyrant was always hurled down by the tyrant. 
 
 " One would have supposed that the Mamelukes would have 
 shown more love and reverence for the princes of their own 
 race than for foreign rulers, but the reverse was the case. 
 The Mamelukes believed that they were under no obligation 
 to respect a prince of their own race more than themselves. 
 They raised their hands threateningly against every one 
 who dared to consider himself something better than they. 
 They considered themselves the advisers of the princes of their 
 own race, and without their approval, these princes could un- 
 dertake nothing whatever. And worse than this ambition, 
 were the machinations and plundering of the intriguing men 
 who surrounded the throne of the Mamelukes. Even Allah's 
 wrath was aroused by this corruption, and the prophet grew
 
 THE MAMELUKES. 49 
 
 angry. Allah punished them for their horrid deeds, and sent 
 down famine, pestilence, and misery, upon the degraded land. 
 The people lay in dust and ashes. In their despair they 
 wrung their hands, and implored Allah to rescue them from 
 this misery and torment. 
 
 u At last, after two and a half centuries, Allah sent them 
 relief through the Ottomans. 
 
 " They could not be worse than the Mamelukes ; for noth- 
 ing on earth could be worse ; the dagger was the only law of 
 these slaves, who called nothing their own, and had neither 
 family ties, fatherland, nor religion. 
 
 " Had they not come from Circassia ? Had they not been 
 purchased as slaves and brought to Egypt ? Had they not 
 been Christians, and were they not of Christian descent ? But 
 they had been forced, the slaves, to assume the holy religion 
 of Mohammed. The prophet, however, does not incline his ear 
 to enforced service. He who does not willingly lay down his 
 faith and fidelity upon the altar can expect no blessing from 
 Allah. The Mamelukes learned 1 ittle, except to read the Koran, 
 to handle the sword, to ride, and to be pitiless against everybody. 
 They also learned to flatter the master who had purchased 
 them, to bow down in the dust before him, and to be nothing 
 for him but a mere tool that has ho honor, no thought, and no 
 sensibility of its own. When the Mamelukes were fully ma- 
 tured, had become expert in using their swords, and managing 
 their steeds, and when their chins became covered with beard, 
 the masters who had bought them made them freemen, and 
 gave them the rank and title of a kachef, an officer who was 
 to Jead and command the others. The kachef was the lieuten- 
 ant of those who had not become free. They gave him a sal- 
 ary, or made him a confidant or assistant. When he got thus 
 far, had become free, and been made a kachef, a career of am- 
 bition, but also of intrigue, trickery, and treason, opened itself 
 before him. His shrewdness was irresistible, his strong arm 
 accomplished all things. 
 
 " The kachef did homage to his first master only, but, if 
 the latter were dead, and the Mameluke had become a freeman, 
 he could attain to the throne through blood and murder. 
 All the vices, with their interminable train, had made their
 
 50 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 entrance into El-Kahera. The new ruler well understood 
 how to acquire riches, power, and respect, by force, and from a 
 kachef he made himself bey. From the proceeds of his booty 
 he purchased a swarm of slaves, who were compelled to follow 
 him. He was only a military power. The Mameluke princes 
 measured his rank and influence by the number of followers 
 in his train when he passed through the streets of Alexandria. 
 There were kachefs who owned a thousand slaves, and beys 
 who possessed two thousand. By this you can judge the 
 wealth of these Mameluke beys, for each of these servants cost 
 them two hundred patras. But this expense was the smallest. 
 There were, besides, the women, the beautiful Arabian horses, 
 the splendid weapons, the Damascene blades, the glittering- 
 jewels, the costly cashmere shawls : all this belonged to the 
 household of a Mameluke bey. The means by which he ac- 
 quired all this were robbery, trickery, blood, and murder. 
 Whatever was bad and vicious, corrupt and shameful, this the 
 Mameluke practised without fear or hesitation. His virtue 
 was that intrepidity, that courage, that boldness, that recoils 
 from nothing, from no danger, from no abyss ; that yields to 
 nothing, and to which nothing is sacred. But the slaves will- 
 ingly submitted to a brave master, and greeted him as a hero. 
 
 " They galloped through the streets on their proud steeds, 
 despising those who walked. When drawn up before the 
 enemy on their war-horses, they bore down upon them boldly, 
 and scattered them to the winds. But if the enemy were able 
 to resist the force of their first fierce attack, they turned their 
 horses and galloped away in wild flight. 
 
 '' Such was the state of things when two hundred years ago 
 the Ottomans marched with large armies into Egypt, to com- 
 bat and vanquish the haughty Mamelukes. 
 
 " And now the time selected by Allah to punish the inso- 
 lent race of the Mamelukes and their rulers who were seated 
 on the throne of Egypt had come. 
 
 " The nations one by one submitted to the rule of these 
 sons of Mohammed. After protracted struggles they had es- 
 tablished a united empire on the banks of the Bosporus, and 
 had built the proud city of Stamboul. The son of Moham- 
 med governed as an illustrious ruler, until at last the Christian
 
 THE MAMELUKES. 51 
 
 dogs came and conquered the magnificent city, and took up 
 their abode in the shining palaces huilt by the last emperors 
 of the house of the Comnenes. In the city of Constanti- 
 nople, as they have named our beautiful Stamboul, they re- 
 sided. A glittering throne was erected there ; but the green 
 flag of the prophet no longer fluttered from the minarets 
 of the mosque, which they called the ' Church of the holy 
 Sophia.' 
 
 " When the great Selim I. heard of the deeds of the Mame- 
 lukes, his zeal and his love for the prophet impelled him to 
 restore his holy kingdom, and he marched with a mighty 
 army into Egypt, to punish the wicked who were in arms 
 against the prophet. He marched through Armenia, Meso- 
 potamia, and Syria, into Egypt. Terror and lamentation were 
 in his train ; before him nations bowed down in the dust. 
 He advanced victoriously, made himself master of Aleppo, 
 and marched on to storm the sacred El-Kahera, which they 
 now call Cairo. The Mamelukes defended themselves long 
 and desperately, until they at last succumbed to superior num- 
 bers. 
 
 " But tranquillity was not yet restored to Egypt ; the Mame- 
 luke prince, Tournan Bey, stole into the city at midnight, and 
 with his Mamelukes murdered the entire Turkish garrison. 
 Filled with wrath the great Selim returned and laid siege to 
 the city. It held out for thirteen days and nights, but after 
 fierce struggles was at last compelled to yield. Selim punished 
 them terribly ; they were all made prisoners, and Tournan was 
 hanged in the midst of the city. Selim entered the city as its 
 conqueror and ruler. 
 
 '' You will suppose that Egypt now at last became tranquil 
 and that the Mamelukes bowed down submissively before the 
 great sultan, before the green flag of the prophet that floated 
 in triumph from the citadel. So it would have been, had not 
 those Mamelukes who had survived the fearful slaughter done 
 among their ranks, brooded on vengeance. But I tell you, so 
 long as there shall be one Mameluke left in the world, so long 
 will he do battle with his sword ; he is not to be vanquished, 
 unless indeed he be trodden under foot as a venomous ser- 
 pent, and destroyed forever.
 
 52 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " The noble Selim had magnanimously omitted to do this. 
 He allowed the Mamelukes to take the oath of fidelity, suppos- 
 ing they would keep it. He then made all Egypt a province 
 of the Turkish Empire, and returned to the banks of the Bos- 
 porus. He came home, a victorious hero, covered with 
 honor, and the whole empire received him with exultation, 
 and peace and happiness returned with him to Stamboul. 
 Over in Egypt, however, things were no longer looking so 
 peaceful, although the noble Selim had been so generous to 
 the Mamelukes that he had not only given them their lives, 
 but also accorded them a portion of their former power. He 
 had desired to have two powers in the government that should 
 watch each other, and therefore the great and wise ruler 
 ordered that twenty-four Mameluke officials should be ap- 
 pointed to share the government with his own Turkish offi- 
 cials. In the same manner as the sultan appoints a pacha, or 
 governor, had the Mamelukes also appointed a chief. This 
 chief was called Sheik-el-Belad, and his power was equal to 
 that of the pacha. He had seven adjutants, the odjaklis, who 
 commanded the seven corps of which the Mameluke army 
 consisted. And, I say to you, the Mamelukes were more pow- 
 erful in El-Kahera than are the pachas in Turkish cities. Their 
 strifes and feuds were such, that those were among the unhap- 
 piest of Egypt's days. 
 
 "And now, hearken to the dreadful conclusion. I will 
 narrate to you what has taken place in Egypt in this century. 
 The Mamelukes overthrew the rule of the Turkish grand- 
 sultan, under the leadership of the bloodthirsty Ali, the new 
 bey who stood at the head of the Mamelukes. He drove out 
 the sultan's pacha, and announced through him to Selim, 
 that the Turkish rule was at an end, and that Egypt was 
 again free, he having driven out the Turks with the edge of 
 the sword.' And Egypt, the rebellious province, was for a 
 time again free ; that is to say, enslaved by the Mameluke 
 Bey Ali, who attempted to extend his power further and fur- 
 ther. He sought to form alliances even with the enemies of 
 Selim, even with those who did not believe in the holy prophet. 
 He even sought, with flattery and entreaties, to prevail on the 
 grandees of the republic of Venice to furnish him with assist-
 
 THE MAMELUKES. 53 
 
 ance against the aggressions of the Turks. He drew his sword 
 and drove our armies even unto Mecca in Arabia, possessed 
 himself of the holy city of Mecca, and even carried his bold- 
 ness so far that he caused himself to be proclaimed Grand- 
 Sultan of Arabia, and ruler of the two seas. 
 
 " Yet the eye of Allah beholds the unjust, and punishes the 
 wicked ; and I will now give you the very latest intelligence 
 I have received from the holy city. May it fill your heart 
 and soul with joyous gratitude for the justice of Allah ! Yes, 
 Allah punishes the insolent. And by the hand of his favorite, 
 of Mohammed Abou-Dahab, in whom the Grand-Sultan Ali 
 confided, was he laid low. This slave Mohammed murdered 
 his master, and seated himself in his place. But him, too, did 
 Allah punish as a wrong-doer and criminal. Allah punished 
 the treason which Mohammed had practised on his master by 
 afflicting him with madness. Day and night he beheld before 
 him Ali's terrible bloody shade ; in horrible dreams he saw 
 the countenance of his murdered master, and at last, amid fear- 
 ful torments, he slew himself. 
 
 " Do you suppose peace had now at last come ? Do you 
 suppose that Egypt now submitted to her rightful ruler, the 
 Grand-Sultan of Stamboul ? Ye men of Cavalla, hardly was 
 Egypt released from the tyrant Ali, when three other Mame- 
 luke beys advanced to seize the vacant throne. 
 
 "Mourad, Ibrahim, and Ismail, competed for the prize. 
 Each of them aspired to be the ruler of Egypt each of them 
 aspired to be called Scheik-el-Belad. 
 
 " Mourad and Ibrahim united themselves to rule together 
 in brotherly love. They united their forces against Ismail, 
 and they prevailed against him he was overthrown and 
 murdered, extinguished like a light that has shone but a brief 
 day. 
 
 " And now, hearken to the end, ye men of Cavalla. The 
 Mameluke beys, Mourad and Ibrahim, have entered the 
 golden city of El-Kahera, and have become great and mighty. 
 They have conquered the grand-sultan, have possessed them- 
 selves of aU the lands, brought all the Mamelukes into sub- 
 jection, and have not rested until all Egypt has been subju- 
 gated.
 
 54 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " And now you know, men of Cavalla, that the sons of the 
 slaves, that Mourad and Ibrahim, rule in the holy city El- 
 Kahera, and in all Egypt. Proudly do these Mameluke princes 
 hold up their heads. From slaves they have become heroes, 
 and from heroes they have become princes." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 DREAMS OF THE FUTURE. 
 
 IN breathless attention, utterly oblivious of all else, Mo- 
 hammed had listened to the words of the scha-er ; and long 
 after he had concluded, and the audience begun to disperse, 
 he still sat, his eyes widely extended, and gazing fixedly at the 
 cushion on which the sha-er had sat, as though he were still 
 there, relating the deeds and wonders of the Mamelukes. 
 Suddenly the silence that surrounded him aroused him from 
 his preoccupation. He arose and walked slowly out, still 
 hearing the voice that related such wondrous stories of dis- 
 tant lands. Thoughtfully he wandered on toward the 
 rocky pathway. He had forgotten all else : the mother on 
 whose account he had been so anxious, the boys whom he was 
 in the habit of regarding so contemptuously when he met 
 them, and whom he now scarcely sees as they pass by ; the 
 cave, too, his paradise, is forgotten. He would no longer de- 
 sire to return to this dark, dreary solitude. 
 
 Upward, upward to the highest point of the rock, to which 
 the name " The Ear of Bucephalus " had been given ! He 
 climbs the rocky ascent like a gazelle. Thither no one will 
 follow him ; there the eye of the prophet alone will see, and 
 the ear of Allah alone hear him. Up there he will be alone 
 with God and his dreams. 
 
 Now he is on the summit, gazing far out into the sea, into 
 the infinite distance where heaven and sea unite and become 
 one. He stretches out his arms and utters a cry of exultation 
 that resounds through the mountains like the scream of the 
 eagle :
 
 DREAMS OF THE FUTURE. 55 
 
 " Thither will I, to the land of promise and of fortune ! to 
 the land where slaves become heroes, and heroes princes ! 
 Mother, your dream shall he realized ! There I shall find 
 palaces on whose summit I shall stand with uplifted sword, 
 nations at my feet. To Egypt will I go. To the land of 
 grandeur and glory, where for thousands of years the great- 
 est and mightiest have made of themselves princes and rulers. 
 I will become mighty ; I will cultivate my mind, that it 
 may help me to rule men. Then I will make of myself 
 a prince before whom all other princes shall fall in the 
 dust!" 
 
 He shouts again exultingly, and the walls of the cliffs echo 
 back his cry. He feels so happy, so free from all earthly care. 
 He seems to float in upper air like the eagle, looking down 
 upon the lowliness of earth beneath. 
 
 As he looks out into the distance, he sees a little dark spot 
 rise on the horizon. His eagle-eye perceives that it is a ship. 
 As it comes nearer, it dances on the waves, and its white sails 
 expand like the wings of a giant swan. It is a beautiful, ma- 
 jestic object. The young Mohammed rejoices at the spectacle, 
 and says, in low tones, to himself ; u Some day I shall possess 
 ships, too. Some day I shall tread the deck of the great ad- 
 miral's ship." 
 
 The ship glides over the glittering mirror of the deep, and 
 comes nearer and nearer, and the curious are now assembled 
 on the shore to gaze at it ; for rarely do vessels seek the rocky 
 promontory of Bucephalus to land in the bay of Contessa. 
 The peninsula is desolate and barren, and there is nothing 
 here for merchant-ships but the tobacco for which this region 
 is celebrated. A Turkish galleon comes semi-annually for the 
 taxes which the governor has levied, to bring them to Stam- 
 boul to the coffers of the grand-sultan. 
 
 But the vessel now approaching is no Turkish galleon, but 
 a magnificent ship ; and one can see on the deck, under the 
 gold-embroidered tent, a Turk reclining on cushions. Slaves 
 in rich attire are on their knees before him, others are be- 
 hind him fanning the flies away with fans made of peacock- 
 feathers. 
 
 " Who can this great man, this stranger be ? " ask the curi-
 
 56 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 ous, who are standing on the beach, gazing fixedly at the ship 
 that has now entered the little bay, and is steering toward the 
 landing. 
 
 Mohammed has also hurried down to the beach. To-day, 
 while his heart and mind are filled with the narrative of the 
 scha-er, to-day every thing seems to him so strange, so wonder- 
 ful ; it seems to him that he is about to receive intelligence 
 from the woi-ld his whole being longs for so intensely, the 
 world that is one day to lie at his feet. 
 
 The ship has entered the bay, and a boat containing three 
 Turkish gentlemen is coming from it to the shore. They 
 haughtily step ashore, and pass by, without saluting the 
 crowd, to the pathway that leads up to Cavalla. But the 
 grand-looking Turk is still on deck, reclining on his cushions ; 
 the slaves are still about, filling and refilling his long chi- 
 bouque, on whose golden mouth-piece brilliants are seen glit- 
 tering. 
 
 Mohammed's keen eyes observe all this, and he follows 
 each movement of the aristocratic Turk with breathless atten- 
 tion. Thus, he thinks, will he also do some day ; thus will he, 
 too, recline on his silken cushions, surrounded by his slaves 
 he, the prince ! 
 
 How would those who were standing around the boy have 
 laughed if they could have divined Mohammed's thoughts, if 
 they had known that he was dreaming of his future magnifi- 
 cence while standing there on the beach in his wide cotton 
 pants, tied at the bottom around his ankles with strings, his 
 feet thrust into a pair of peaked shoes of doubtful color, a 
 faded red shawl bound around his waist, on his body a well- 
 worn brown shirt, the whole crowned with the red tarbush 
 that covered his dark hair, around which was wound a white 
 and not particularly clean Tcuffei ! 
 
 Who could have imagined that this poor Turkish child was 
 dreaming of future glory, and saying to himself, as he regarded 
 the grand gentleman on the deck of the ship : '' I will one day 
 be as you are. and even greater than you ! " 
 
 The governor, accompanied by the strange Turks, and fol- 
 lowed by servants carrying palanquins, was now observed 
 coming down the pathway from Cavalla. Hastily he walks
 
 DREAMS OF THE FUTURE. 57 
 
 to the beach, and, with the Turks, enters the boat and steers 
 for the ship. 
 
 The governor has now reached the ship and climbed to the 
 deck, but the grand gentleman does not stir from his cushions, 
 and only greets him with a gracious nod. The people on the 
 beach observe this with astonishment, and ask each other : 
 " Who can this be ? Tschorbadji Hassan is the greatest man 
 on our peninsula, and every head bows down before him. And 
 this gentleman dares to salute him with a mere nod. Truly 
 he must be a very great man ! " 
 
 Mohammed regards the people who are speaking contemp- 
 tuously, and murmurs to himself : " I shall be a greater man 
 some day. He is no prince, else his ship would show the ad- 
 miral's flag, and the governor would fall on his face before 
 him. The scha-er told me that such is the custom in the pres- 
 ence of princes. But the people shall one day prostrate them- 
 selves on their faces before me !" 
 
 At last the grand gentleman arises slowly from his cush- 
 ions, and lays his arm on the shoulder of the governor, who 
 walks at his side, his head bowed down, and seemingly de- 
 lighted at being permitted to bear this burden on his shoulder. 
 
 They walk to the stairway ; the governor busies himself in 
 helping the stranger to descend, jumps into the boat, and ex- 
 tends his hand to assist him to enter. He tranquilly receives 
 these attentions ; the slaves follow, and lay gold-embroidered 
 cushions on the bottom of the boat, and the grand gentleman 
 reclines on them in an easy attitude. The governor stands 
 before him, addressing him with an air of profound reverence, 
 and the slaves take up their position behind him, and waft re- 
 freshing breezes to him with their fans. As the boat reaches 
 the beach, the governor turns and addresses the people in im- 
 perious tones : 
 
 "Bow down in the dust before the grand-vizier before 
 Cousrouf Pacha ! Salute his excellency ! " 
 
 All fall on their knees, and remain there in mute reverence, 
 while the pacha, accompanied by the governor, and followed 
 by his slaves, ascends the pathway to Cavalla. 
 
 One person only had not fallen down on his knees, and 
 that person was Mohammed Ali. 
 5
 
 58 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 He had secreted himself behind a rock, and there he stands, 
 regarding the pacha with eager eyes, and glancing contemptu- 
 ously at those who, at other times so noisy and arrogant, are 
 now bowed down in the dust, and who have as yet not even 
 ventured to raise their heads. 
 
 But now the scene on the shore becomes an animated one. 
 The governor has ordered that other boats be sent out to the 
 ship, and a peculiar and wondrous sight presents itself on 
 board. 
 
 White female figures, closely enveloped in long white veils, 
 appear on deck. Tall men, with black faces and fat bodies, 
 stand at their side. The sailors have disappeared from the 
 deck ; no one is now visible but the white female figures and 
 the fat black men. 
 
 " That is the harem of the grand- vizier," the people now 
 whisper to each other, '* and those men at their side are the 
 eunuchs." 
 
 Two of these eunuchs now come to the shore, and, in 
 threatening tones, order the men to leave the beach at once, 
 and to go up to Cavalla to announce there that no one shall 
 allow himself to be seen in the streets. 
 
 The men hurriedly ascend the pathway to the city, without 
 even venturing to look back at the pacha's harem. 
 
 Mohammed Ali alone is nowhere to be seen. He has 
 crouched down behind the rocks, and no one sees the fiery 
 eyes that peer out cautiously from his hiding-place. 
 
 The women, looking like white swans, are now rowed to 
 the shore. 
 
 The beach is bare no one sees them. They can venture to 
 open their veils a little, and look about them on this strange 
 shore. 
 
 Oh ! what glowing eyes, what purple lips, are disclosed to 
 the boy's sight ! For the first time, his heart beats stormily ; 
 for the first time, he feels a strange delight in his soul. Yes 
 beautiful are these women, as are the houris in paradise, and 
 enviable is he to whom they belong. 
 
 Two of the eunuchs walk before the women, four walk be- 
 side them, and imperiously command them to draw their veils 
 closer together. They approach several of them with pro-
 
 DREAMS OF THE FUTURE. 59 
 
 found respect, and extend their hands to assist them in enter- 
 ing the palanquins that stand ready to receive them ; the 
 others must go on foot. 
 
 Loudly resounds the cry of the eunuchs who walk in ad- 
 vance : " The harem the harem of his excellency ! Away, ye 
 men ! The harem ! " 
 
 At this cry all flee to their houses in the city above, and 
 none are to be seen in the deserted streets but the ladies of the 
 harem that are being borne along in palanquins, and the train 
 of veiled figures behind them. 
 
 The procession moves on to the governor's house, where a 
 strange scene presents itself. Servants are standing about in 
 g-old-em broidered garments ; all is confusion and motion. 
 His excellency the pacha condescends to take up his abode in 
 the governor's palace, and the upper saloons are being opened 
 and prepared for the distinguished guest. Adjoining the main 
 building, a side building, with barred windows, extends far 
 out into the garden. Until now it had stood empty, for the 
 governor cares not for the society of women ; his heart is cold 
 toward them ; he loves nothing but his son. The harem is 
 empty, and is therefore ready to receive the women and slaves 
 of his excellency Cousrouf Pacha. The shutters of the win- 
 dows have long stood open the eunuchs now come forward 
 and fasten them securely. The vast building has now become 
 quite still. 
 
 Mohammed had watched the procession until the last white 
 swan had disappeared upon the plateau above. He now 
 slipped out of his hiding-place, and walked down to the beach 
 to look at the ship. He had not observed that other boats had 
 put off from the ship to land more passengers. 
 
 " I should like to know the destination of this proud and 
 beautiful ship. I should like to sail with it," murmured the 
 boy. 
 
 "Then do so !" cried a loud voice behind him. "If you 
 wish to, my lad, come with us. One leads a splendid life on 
 such a ship. You are tall and strong, and will be gladly ac- 
 cented." 
 
 His countenance beaming with joy, Mohammed turned and 
 saw at his side a boy of slender figure, in simple Turkish gar-
 
 60 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 ments, but his hair was closely cut, and not covered with the 
 fez and kuffei. Mohammed glanced fiercely at the boy. 
 
 " You are a slave ! " said he. 
 
 The boy nodded and laughed. 
 
 " I am a slave. But I don't expect to remain one long ; I 
 have already heard that the capitano intends to sell me over 
 there, and there one can make his fortune, that I know ! " 
 
 " Over there ? " said Mohammed, eagerly. " What do you 
 call over there ? " 
 
 " Well, the place we are going to ! " exclaimed the boy, 
 laughing. " To Egypt we go, carrying rich goods, and I my- 
 self, so to speak, am a piece of goods for the capitano." 
 
 " You go to Egypt ? " asked Mohammed ; " to the land of 
 wonders, where slaves become heroes, and heroes princes ? " 
 
 " Ah ! you have heard it spoken of, too ! " said the boy, 
 laughing. "Yes, the sha-ers everywhere have something to 
 relate about Egypt. In Stamboul I have often heard them 
 tell of the Mamelukes, too ! " 
 
 " Of the Mamelukes ? Of them, too, you have heard ? " 
 
 " I have not only heard of them, but I intend to make a 
 Mameluke of myself. As you know, these Mamelukes are the 
 slaves of the beys in Egypt. I hope to have the good fortune 
 to be purchased by a bey. I know all that is necessary to be- 
 come the servant of a Mameluke." 
 
 " And what is necessary ? " asked Mohammed, eagerly. 
 " What is it that you know ? " 
 
 "I can ride as well as the best of the horsemen of the 
 grand-vizier. On a bare horse I can fly over the plains with 
 the speed of a bird. I know how to handle the sword and the 
 spear, and in the fastest gallop I can sever the head of a horse 
 from his body. These are arts that are useful over there, and 
 in them I am a master. You may look at me in astonishment 
 if you will ! I am not as tall and stout as you are, but I can 
 tell you I have the strength of a giant, and, in spite of my 
 fourteen years, I am a man. I expect to make my fortune in 
 Egypt." 
 
 " And where have you been until now ? From what place 
 do you come ? " 
 
 " I have been a slave from my youth ; I was well brought
 
 DREAMS OF THE FUTURE. 61 
 
 up and had an education ; I know how to wait on fine gentle- 
 men. I served a nobleman as first valet for three years, but 
 couldn't stand the dull, effeminate life. I longed to be out in 
 the world, and committed all sorts of freaks in order that my 
 master might drive me off. To be sure, I received the basti- 
 nado daily, but I stood it like a man. I determined to continue 
 to annoy my gracious master until he should sell me. Look 
 at my feet ! " 
 
 He took off his shoes and showed Mohammed the scarred 
 soles of his feet. 
 
 u These are the scars with which I have purchased my fu- 
 ture. Yes ; but why do you look at me in such astonishment ? 
 By Allah ! I should not like to live on this rock here, like 
 you ! I must out into the world ; must go to Egypt, and make 
 something great of myself." 
 
 "But how will you begin it?" asked Mohammed. "I 
 should like to do so, too." 
 
 " I don't know yet," replied the boy, carelessly ; " it will de- 
 pend upon how I succeed in recommending myself to a bey 
 with my horsemanship and sword. One thing I can tell you, 
 if I once become a Mameluke, I shall rise. In case you should 
 bear of me some day, in case my celebrity should reach even 
 this desolate rock, I will tell you my name. My name is Os- 
 man, and in mockery, because I served a nobleman, they added 
 bey to it. But I tell you, I will make of the name given me 
 in derision a real title ! If you hear of me some day, I shall be 
 called Osman Bey in earnest." 
 
 " I will tell you my name, too," said Mohammed, proudly, 
 " and if you ever hear of me, you shall know that you once 
 met me here upon the beach. My name is Mohammed Ali, 
 and I am Ibrahim Aga's son. I am a freeman, you must know, 
 and have never bowed my head beneath the yoke of another ! 
 Remember my name, little Osman, and, if Allah wills it, you 
 shall hear of me some day. My name is Mohammed Ali." 
 
 He nodded to the boy contemptuously, and walked off. 
 
 Osman laughed, and cried after him : 
 
 u You will probably hear of me first, you bold boy, you 
 beggar-prince ! I shall probably never hear of the beggar- 
 prince, Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim Aga, but of me you
 
 (J2 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 shall hear, you silly lad ! Don't forget my name : I am called 
 Osman Bey." 
 
 If they both could now have known the future ! If a 
 prophet had permitted the two boys who met here for the first 
 time, in order that they might angrily impress their names on 
 each other's memory, to look into the future, what would they 
 have seen in its mirror ? 
 
 Two heroes opposed to each other in ardent love, and in wild 
 enmity. Both equally great, equally ambitious, and equally 
 greedy of glory. They would have seen blood flowing in 
 streams for their sake. They would have seen how Osman 
 Bey, called by the name of Bardissi, dashed onward, flourish- 
 ing his cimeter at the head of thousands of devoted followers. 
 They would have seen Mohammed Ali in a glittering uniform, 
 mounted on his proud steed, at the head of thousands charg- 
 ing with uplifted sword against Bardissi. 
 
 Here on a rock in the bay of San Marmora, the boys met 
 for the first time, and instinct permitted them to feel the en- 
 mity that existed between them throughout their entire lives, 
 and which caused thousands to fall, and blood to flow in 
 streams. 
 
 They know nothing of this now. Osman whistles a merry 
 air and jumps into the boat that bears him back to the ship. 
 Mohammed Ali ascends the rock to a quiet and solitary spot. 
 There he will rest and meditate on what he has seen and heard 
 to-day. 
 
 The ship sails out to sea. Like a giant swan, proudly, ma- 
 jestically, it glides over the blue waves, until at last it rises up 
 in the distance with its masts and spars against the horizon, 
 faintly, like a mere vision of the air. 
 
 Above, on the Ear of Bucephalus, stands Mohammed Ali. 
 leaning on his gun, his eyes fixed on the ship. He sighs pro- 
 foundly as it now disappears without leaving the slightest 
 trace behind, as though engulfed by the waters. 
 
 '* Gone," he murmured " gone ! What was the name of 
 the boy, the slave who so defiantly charged me to remember 
 his name ? I remember, it was Osman. Yes, Osman Bey, he 
 said. Well, he may depend upon it I shall remember his 
 name, and he may also count on remembering that my name
 
 DREAMS OF THE FUTURE. 53 
 
 is Mohammed AH, if we should ever meet again. Oh, I envy 
 him." said he, in low tones, looking longingly at the horizon. 
 " Oh, I would so gladly have gone with him to the wondrous 
 land the scha-er told of, where slaves become heroes, and 
 heroes princes. He, the slave, goes thither ; and I, who am 
 free, am bound to this rock by my poor mother, and must re- 
 main !" 
 
 The ship sailed on farther and farther on the bright waves. 
 It glided onward over the deep-blue sea two days longer ; on 
 the third day the sailors shouted with joy, for the water had 
 become green, and this announced to the experienced seamen 
 that they should soon see land. 
 
 When the waves of the Mediterranean Sea change from 
 blue to green, the yellow coast of Africa is near. Another 
 day passed, and the ship entered the harbor of Alexandria. 
 The black and brown people came out to the ship, howling 
 and yelling in their little boats, and with them came the slave- 
 dealers to look for human wares, to bargain for the living as 
 well as for the dead freight. 
 
 The captain shows the slave-dealers his fine piece of goods, 
 the boy Osman Bey, and offers him as a good article of mer- 
 chandise. '' He is a splendid servant, and knows how to color 
 the chibouque, and how to wait on his master with soft words." 
 
 " He knows more than that ! " exclaimed the boy Osman 
 Bey, indignantly. " He knows how to scour across the desert 
 on his steed without saddle or bridle, and loves to flourish the 
 cimeter and lay the heads of men and animals at his feet with 
 a single blow. " 
 
 The slave-dealer regards him with favorable glances. That 
 is what he needs. The great Mameluke prince Mourad needs 
 many servants and warriors, and he gave the dealer authority 
 to purchase men for him, young, strong, and healthy men. 
 The ranks of his Mamelukes need recruiting. He will make 
 a fine Mameluke, this slender young man with the keen, glit- 
 tering eyes. 
 
 " What will you have for the boy ? " 
 
 The captain shrugged his shoulders. " He is really beyond 
 all price ; for, as I tell you, he is a splendid servant, and, as 
 he tells you himself, he is a fine horseman, and knows how to
 
 64 MOHAMMED ALI AN! HIS HOUSE. 
 
 wield the cimeter. He is priceless, and I hardly think we 
 shall come to terms." 
 
 They now began to bargain for this human merchandise. 
 They made a great deal of noise, quarrelled, and shook their 
 fists in each other's faces, while young Osman Bey stood at 
 their side, his arms folded on his breast, calmly looking on 
 and smiling at the uproar created on his account. At last they 
 came to terms. The dealer received his living goods, young 
 Osman Bey, and paid the captain the price agreed upon. 
 
 If young Mohammed Ali could see this : if his dark brown 
 eye could send a glance with the speed of an arrow across the 
 waves and through the days and nights ; and if he could hear 
 how the slave, Osman Bey, is traded off for sugar and coffee ; 
 if he could see Osman standing in the slave market awaiting 
 a purchaser ; if he could see Mourad, the Mameluke bey, at 
 last approach, smile approvingly on young Osman, and finally 
 purchase and place him among his followers ; if he could 
 have seen this and the future, he would have felt proud and 
 happy in being a free man, although a poor one. His hands 
 are not fettered, he serves no master, and he cannot be bar- 
 gained for and sold like a bale of goods ! He is a free human 
 being, conscious of his own worth, and also conscious of the 
 great future that awaits him. 
 
 He is thinking of it now as he stands on the rock leaning 
 on his gun, and staring out into the air after the vanished 
 ship. He does not see the future ; he only dreams of it as he 
 looks out into the vacant air, oblivious of the present. Nor 
 does he see the mother, who, while he stands there, is hasten- 
 ing painfully and breathlessly, her head bowed down, from 
 her humble hut to the proud, main street of the city, to the 
 store of the merchant Lion. 
 
 The merchant saw her coming, met her at the door, and 
 held out his hand to her. 
 
 "Is it you, Sitta Khadra?" he cried, as she reached the 
 door. " I must tell you I have expected you, esteemed lady, 
 light of my eyes ! " 
 
 She tottered into the hall and seated herself in the chair 
 which the merchant had hastened to bring her. 
 
 " Why these fine phrases, sir ? Talk to me in short and
 
 DREAMS OF THE FUTURE. 65 
 
 terse language, as you Franks are accustomed to do, and pay 
 no attention to the flowery words which, with us, the men 
 are in the habit of mocking instead of flattering us poor crea- 
 tures." 
 
 " I am not mocking you, Sitta Kbadra," said the merchant, 
 gravely. " I esteem you, for you are a good woman, and 
 therefore I addressed you as I did. I know you well, and ] 
 know what you have there hidden under your veil. " 
 
 " What have I there, sir ? " 
 
 " You have brought me back the gold-embroidered goods, 
 and the veil bordered with golden fringe, which your son Mo- 
 hammed bought for you." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I have brought them back. They do not be- 
 come me. I did not like to tell the boy so, for it pleases him 
 to think I will array myself in them. I therefore accepted 
 them, hoping you would take them back." 
 
 " I expected you, and see, I have the money ready for you. 
 When I saw you coming, I took it quickly from my purse. 
 Here, good Sitta Khadra, are the six ducats which Mohammed 
 gave me." 
 
 She shook her head gently. 
 
 " You are very kind, sir, and I thank you. Yet, I cannot 
 accept them. Mohammed would scold me when he learned it. 
 He told me, himself, that he had given you four ducats and 
 not six. I divined that you had given him the goods at a 
 cheaper price, and that he could not have paid for them at 
 their real value. By this I perceived that the sale was only a 
 pretended one, and have hoped you would take back the goods. 
 But the money I will not receive." 
 
 " To whom shall I give it, then ? " asked the astonished 
 merchant. " I dare not offer it to Mohammed ; I believe it 
 would make him so angry that he would raise his hand 
 against me. You must not tell him, Sitta Khadra, that you 
 have brought me back the goods." 
 
 " You are right, sir ; I should not like to cause him this 
 unhappiness. I shall tell him I have taken the goods to the 
 tailor to have it made into a dress by the next Bairam's fes- 
 tival. But when the festival comes, I shall no longer be here, 
 and he will not see that I have not put on the costly dress."
 
 QQ MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " You will not be here, Sitta Khadra ? Then where will 
 you be ? " asked the merchant. 
 
 She slowly raised her arm, and pointed upward. 
 
 ''Up there, sir, with my beloved master, Ibrahim Aga ; I 
 shall see the glory of Allah, and shall see the prophet, the 
 great prophet to whom my heart-felt prayers so often ascend." 
 
 "What is it you are saying, good Sitta? At the next 
 Bairam's festival, you will surely still be with us on earth." 
 
 She slowly shook her head. 
 
 "I am dying, sir ! I have been dying for the last two days : 
 look at my lips." 
 
 '' They are red and fresh, and show that you are in health, 
 Sitta Khadra." 
 
 " Yes, my lips are red, because I have colored them with 
 henna, that Mohammed may not see how pale they are. For 
 him I have colored my cheeks, too. Good sir, one may de- 
 ceive out of love, and Allah will forgive me for having made 
 my face a lie out of love for my son. I tell you I am dying ; 
 therefore have I come to bring you the goods, and to beg you 
 to take the money and keep it. When he is in want give it to 
 him, and tell him Mother Khadra sends it with her best bless- 
 ing, and that he must accept it as a present from me, and make 
 a good use of it. I know, sir, that you will give it to him, and 
 that you will watch over him that you may know when he 
 needs it. 
 
 " And one thing more I beg of you, whenever you see my 
 beloved son, say to him : ' Mohammed Ali, your mother 
 Khadra, loved you very dearly, and sends you a greeting from 
 Heaven, through me. She dwells, above with your father, 
 Ibrahim Aga, and both are looking down upon you, and ob- 
 serving your actions. Therefore be thoughtful, Mohammed, 
 to walk pure and free in the sight of Allah and your parents.' 
 Promise me, that you will often say this to my son." 
 
 " I promise, Sitta Khadra." said the merchant, solemnly. 
 " I promise you that I will watch over your dear son, and that, 
 if it is in my power, I will at all times be ready to lend him a 
 helping hand. I give you my hand to seal this promise, Sitta 
 Khadra." 
 
 She took his hand, and the merchant knew by the heat of
 
 THE FRIENDS. 67 
 
 her thin, wan fingers that a burning fever was in her blood, 
 and that Death had kissed her lips. 
 
 " Now all is well," said she, as she rose to her feet with a 
 painful effort. " Now I will return home, that my darling, 
 my Mohammed, may find me when he comes. I have but a 
 few more days to live, and I would not lose a moment that 1 
 can spend with him. Farewell ! Allah be with you ! " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE FRIENDS. 
 
 IN the house of the governor every thing was changed 
 since the day on which the grand-vizier had taken up his 
 abode in the upper saloons. Young Osman, the son of the 
 tschorbadji, experienced this change with great displeasure. 
 
 Since the stranger's harem had been installed in the side- 
 building, whose windows open on the garden, the governor's 
 son can no longer walk freely in all parts of the beautiful 
 park and enjoy its solitude without fear of interruption. By 
 far the greater portion of the park has been set apart for the 
 use of the harem, and only a small portion adjoining the court- 
 yard is reserved for him. 
 
 " And yet fresh air and the sunshine are my only enjoy- 
 ments." said he, complainingly, to Mohammed Ali, who had 
 come the next day, according to promise, to repeat to young 
 Osman what the scha-er had spoken, to narrate to him the 
 wondrous stories of the Mamelukes. 
 
 He lay reclining on a mat in front of young Osman 's couch, 
 and in excited words, with glowing eyes, he told the heroic 
 stories of the proudest people of Egypt. 
 
 Osman's large eyes were fixed on his face in an earnest 
 gaze, and a slight color tinged his pale cheeks as he listened. 
 
 " Beautiful, is it not ? " asked Mohammed, as he finished 
 his narrative. " Would not you, too, like to go to the land 
 where, as the scha-er says, slaves become heroes, and heroes 
 princes ? "
 
 68 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Osman shook his head gently. 
 
 "I do not know, Mohammed. I should be contented, I 
 think, to remain here, reclining on my cushions, the sun 
 above me, and you at my side." 
 
 ' But what I have related is beautiful, is it not ? " 
 
 " I do not know," replied Osman, for the second time. '' I 
 regarded you while you were speaking, and I rejoiced in you. 
 It seems to me, Mohammed, as though you were the better 
 part of myself. I feel as you feel, and think as you think, 
 and rejoice when I hear you utter in fresh and glowing words 
 that which my lips can utter with timidity and hesitation 
 only. If I were healthy, Mohammed, I should be, I think, as 
 you are. Therefore, whenever I look at you, it seems to me I 
 see myself as I might be, but am not." 
 
 " You will be yourself, again," said Mohammed, tenderly. 
 " When you have become strong again, no one will be able 
 to compete with you in manly exercises, and like all the 
 other boys I shall have to bow my head humbly before you, 
 and shall have to pay you the tribute as they pay it to me." 
 
 In reply, Osman merely raised his pale, transparent hand 
 and showed it to Mohammed. 
 
 "Look at this pale, colorless hand. A poor, withered 
 flower, good for nothing except to press the hand of a friend, 
 but a hand that can never wield the sword or battle with the 
 unruly waves as yours can. No, Mohammed ! I shall perhaps 
 have health enough to live like the flower or the blade of 
 grass, but not to live like the eagle, like the steed, like Mo- 
 hammed Ali ! But I will not complain. I am contented : 
 every one has his portion of happiness on earth ; mine is, to 
 lie on the purple in the sunshine, and to hear my Mohammed 
 tell stories. But I entreat you to come very often," he con- 
 tinued, with a sigh. "They have now curtailed my little 
 earthly happiness ; since this Turk has come with his harem 
 and his glittering suite, I am very miserable. I know that my 
 father feels it, too, and often wishes his distinguished guest 
 had taken his departure." 
 
 " Will he remain long, Osman ?" 
 
 " That depends on whether his sun shines again in Stam- 
 boul," said young Osman, shrugging his shoulders. " I must
 
 THE FRIENDS. 59 
 
 tell you, Mohammed, there are peculiar circumstances con- 
 nected with this gentleman. He has fallen into disfavor, and 
 is waiting here to see whether his sun will shine again or not. 
 He has been sent into exile, and it was really intended that he 
 should go to Egypt, where the Mamelukes of whom you have 
 just been relating such heroic stories, have again risen in wild 
 insurrection against the Turkish governor, and Cousrouf 
 Pacha is lying in wait here because he has good friends in 
 Stamboul who are working for him, and because he hopes 
 to be able to return to the beautiful capital where he can 
 revel in luxury ; whereas, if he should go to Egypt, he would 
 be compelled to draw the sword and march out to bloody 
 battle." 
 
 " I hate him the coward ! " exclaimed Mohammed. " I 
 despise men who prefer eating sugar with women in the 
 harem, to mounting their steeds and taking the field against 
 the enemy, sword in hand." 
 
 " That will never be your preference," said Osman, regard- 
 ing him tenderly. 
 
 "No, never," protested the boy. "Women are good play- 
 things for hours of leisure, when a man has nothing better to 
 do. But to revel, like Cousrouf, in luxury to hide himself 
 while he might be attempting deeds of heroism to be dallying 
 with women instead of mowing off the heads of his enemies, 
 that I cannot comprehend. It is repulsive to me to think of a 
 man's surrounding himself with women, and taking delight 
 in their caresses and soft words." 
 
 " It suits Cousrouf very well ! " said Osman, smiling. "He 
 spends the greater part of his time in the harem. Singing, 
 music, and rejoicing, are the order of the day there. Black 
 female slaves fan him with fans made of peacock-feathers ; 
 others, on their knees, fill his chibouque, while he reclines on 
 his cushions, smoking and dreamily gazing at the beautifully- 
 attired female slaves who dance before him." 
 
 " And he," said Mohammed, u he, the vain man, imagines 
 that they dance and remain in his harem out of love for 
 him ! " 
 
 " I suppose they make him think so. They say a woman's 
 lips make a lie sweet, and that her face always wears a mask !
 
 70 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 And yet," he continued, looking dreamily toward the harem, 
 " I must tell you, Mohammed, I sometimes think I should be 
 happy, too, and less tormented with ennui, if one of these 
 houris of paradise sat at my side, chastely veiled, regarding me 
 lovingly and I could look through the white veil at the smile 
 on her lips. Ah, Mohammed, we, who are not made to become 
 heroes, feel an irresistible longing after love, and the sweet 
 delight of being loved. You, of course, cannot understand 
 this." 
 
 "No, I cannot," cried Mohammed, with a contemptuous 
 smile. " I shall never bow my head beneath the yoke of fe- 
 male slaves, with their beautiful almond-shaped eyes and pur- 
 ple lips. I shall consider all women as playthings, with the 
 exception of my mother," said he, bowing his head with pro- 
 found reverence. "Allah forgive me for speaking ill of 
 women, for our mothers are women, Osman ! Forgive me 
 my pride and folly. I speak only of the light-footed slaves, 
 with the deceiving smile and the false eyes." 
 
 " And who knows, ' said Osman, smiling, " but that my Mo- 
 hammed, who speaks of these fetters so derisively, may not 
 some day be vanquished ? Do not set your face against it, Mo- 
 hammed. Remember that even the heart of the great prophet 
 glowed with love, and that it was he who peopled paradise 
 with houris, and promised it, as the highest bliss, that beauti- 
 ful women should there kneel down before the blessed spirits, 
 gently stroke their feet, and look at them lovingly with their 
 lustrous, gazelle-like eyes. Therefore, do not say, Mohammed, 
 that your heart shall never be accessible to love ! Yours is a 
 true, manly heart, and a manly heart must love. You see, 
 Mohammed, I am hardly a man, and shall probably never be- 
 come one, and therefore I do not believe that love will ever 
 hold me in its golden net ; I shall love nothing but my best, 
 my only friend." 
 
 " And will you tell me his name, Osman ? " asked Moham- 
 med, bending down closely to him. Passionately, almost 
 threateningly, he repeated : " Will you tell me the name of 
 this, your beloved, your only friend ? " 
 
 Osman, smiled, took from a cushion an oval mirror, 
 framed in mother-of-pearl, with a golden handle, and held it
 
 THE FRIENDS. ft 
 
 before Mohammed. " Look at yourself, and you will know 
 his name." 
 
 Looking, not at the mirrow, but earnestly into his friend's 
 eyes, Mohammed stooped down and kissed Osman's lips. 
 
 " Listen, Osman, to what I say ! I am almost ashamed 
 to confess it, and yet it is true, next to my mother I love you 
 best on earth, and I believe I could sacrifice my life for you." 
 
 " And I mine for you," said Osman, gently. 
 
 " Let us swear to be true friends forever," continued Mo- 
 hammed. " Here is my hand ! Eternal friendship ! If you 
 need me, Osman, call me, and, were I ever so distant, I would 
 ome to you. When in want, or when cast down by sorrow 
 and suffering, I will complain to no one but you. What my 
 lips will confess to no one else, they shall confess to Osman. 
 Shall it be so ? Friendship for life ? " 
 
 " Yes, life-long friendship ! " said Osman. " Men need not 
 know it. We will preserve as our secret the bond of friend- 
 ship we have formed, and I only entreat of Allah that he 
 may some day permit me to prove to you that I am your 
 friend." 
 
 " And this I entreat of Allah, too," said Mohammed, warmly 
 pressing his friend's wan hand. u But now let me go ; the 
 scha-er relates again to-day, and I will go and near him, and 
 come to-morrow to repeat to you what I have heard, if you 
 wish it." 
 
 " I shall await you, Mohammed, and count the hours until 
 you come." 
 
 They shook hands once more, and Mohammed hurried 
 off down the garden- walks. Osman's eyes followed him lov- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I love him, and may Allah enable me to prove it some 
 day 1 " 
 
 Mohammed hurries on, heedless of the direction he has 
 taken, and forgetting that the use of the main avenue was 
 forbidden since the harem had taken possession of the park. 
 He walks on, carelessly, heedlessly. He wishes to pass out at 
 the back gate of the garden, as he often did. Hastening on. 
 with flushed cheeks, he hardly perceives a veiled figure, ac- 
 companied by two eunuchs, that has just stepped out into the
 
 72 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 walk from a side-path. The eunuchs cry out, and imperiously 
 command him to depart instantly. Mohammed stands still, 
 shrugs his shoulders, and regards them derisively. 
 
 '* Are you the masters here in the park of the tschorbadji 
 of Cavalla ? " he asks, proudly. " I shall depart when I 
 choose, and because I choose, and not because the strange 
 servants of the stranger have the insolence to order me to 
 do so." 
 
 He said this in haughty, angry tones, and with sparkling 
 eyes, inclined his head slightly to the veiled female figure, and 
 passed slowly by her without even a curious glance. 
 
 But she stands still, and her black eyes burn like flames as 
 her gaze follows him, and her purple lips murmur, in low 
 tones : '' Beautiful is he, as the young day ; beautiful as the 
 rosy dawn of heaven ! Oh, that it shone over me ! Oh, that 
 this sun were mine ! " 
 
 He heeded her not ; he did not hear the sweet whispering 
 of her lips. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A SOUL IN THE AGONIES OF DEATH. 
 
 THE narratives of the scha-er continued to resound in Mo- 
 hammed's soul, and occupied him day and night. His exist- 
 ence seemed useless and empty, and every thing that sur- 
 rounded him colorless and desolate. What cared he now for 
 cliffs and caves, for the surging sea. for the blue sky ? How 
 little it seemed to him to be the best rifleman and oarsman of 
 the island, to be renowned down in Praousta as the best fisher- 
 man ! 
 
 What does he care for all this ? Who hears of what takes 
 place in Cavalla, or in the miserable village of Praousta ? No- 
 body comes here except the merchants who sometimes land to 
 purchase the celebrated tobacco, and the sultan's collectors 
 who come twice a year for the taxes. 
 
 Who knows of these insignificant places ? Who observes 
 Mohammed AH when he strikes the bird in its flight, or steers
 
 A SOUL IN THE AGONIES OF DEATH. 73 
 
 his boat over the waves in the wildest storm ? All is tame 
 and paltry ! With his mind's eye he sees before him the cities 
 the scha-er had told of. Over there in Egypt, stretched out on 
 the yellow shore of the green sea, lies a great and magnificent 
 city with towers, minarets, and temples, a city such as he has 
 never seen, the city of Alexandria. Before this city, in the 
 spacious harbor that has existed for thousands of years, lie 
 long rows of ships with masts, and fluttering flags, and golden 
 images at their bows. 
 
 Little boats dance about the ship, and all is activity and 
 bustle. In the interior of the land shines El-Kahera, the new 
 city, with the palaces of the caliphs and its hundreds of mina- 
 rets and temples. The streets are alive with men of all na- 
 tions ; there are Turks and Arabians, Egyptians and Euro- 
 peans. The blacks of Nubia and Abyssinia mingle with the 
 white men of France and Germany, and the languages of all 
 nations are heard. 
 
 He lay on the rock, on the Ear of Bucephalus, gazing out 
 into the distance toward the horizon, imagining he could see 
 these wondrous cities. He dreamed of the glories of the 
 world, and his fancy beheld boats and ships, palaces and mina- 
 rets. 
 
 The sea lies beneath like a blue mirror. The waves mur- 
 mur in low tones as they caress the shore. The stillness is pro- 
 found, the solitude of the first day of creation surrounds him. 
 Suddenly a cry resounds, a loud, piercing one, such as the 
 eagle utters when his young are in danger. It aroused Mo- 
 hammed from his meditation. 
 
 " Strange ! I heard the cry, yet I can nowhere see the eagle 
 that uttered it." 
 
 For the second time it resounds, louder and more piercing 
 than before. Mohammed shudders in his whole being. 
 
 The cry is not that of an eagle. It is a human voice. 
 Toussoun has uttered it, and it announces that his mother is 
 in danger. He springs with horror to his feet, and bounds 
 from rock to rock, down the steep he has just heard the cry 
 for the third time. 
 
 " Await me, mother ! O my mother, I am coming ! " 
 
 Like an arrow he speeds through the suburb to his mother's 
 6
 
 74 MOHAMMED A LI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 hut. Pale and terrified, Toussoun meets him at the door. He 
 had risen from his bed of sickness in response to Khadra's 
 call. With weak, trembling lips he had entreated i^er to 
 allow him to call her son, and he did call him, breathing out 
 his last remnant of strength in summoning Mohammed to 
 his mother. Pale, weak, and ill, he now returns to his own 
 hut, supported on the arm of a neighbor, and returns to die. 
 
 Mohammed has not noticed him. He springs to the door, 
 tears it open, and sees the women who have come to Sitta 
 Khadra's assistance. Now that he has come they walk out 
 noiselessly, and wait at the door. 
 
 How long will it be before she is dead, before they can as- 
 sume the role of mourning-women, and begin their lamenta- 
 tions ? True, Sitta Khadra is poor, but then the community 
 will, out of self-respect, pay the mourn ing charges. Consol- 
 ing themselves with this thought, the women crouch down at 
 the door. 
 
 Mohammed kneels beside the mat on which his mother 
 lies, takes her hands now almost cold in his own, bends 
 over her and looks into the widely-distended eyes that stare 
 vacantly up at him, and sobs in loud, heart-rending tones : 
 *' Mother, mother ! Do you hear me ? Here 1 am, your son, 
 Mohammed. You cannot die, for I am with you ! " 
 
 The words of her son reach the mother's soul, that was 
 already on the point of fluttering to heaven. It returns to its 
 poor frail habitation. Life returns to her eyes, and a faint 
 smile plays about her pale lips. The mother heard her 
 child's voice, and her soul returned to the already stiffening 
 body. 
 
 With a faint smile she raised her head a little to kiss his 
 lips. 
 
 " I recognize you, my son, and I awaken once more to bid 
 you farewell." 
 
 " No, mother, it is impossible, you cannot leave me ! " said 
 he, in such loud and piercing tones that the mourning-women 
 at the door heard it and whispered to each other : " That was 
 a good cry ; we could do no better ourselves." 
 
 "Son of my heart," whispered Khadra, and the mother 
 employed her last strength to force her cold lips to speak and
 
 A SOUL IN THE AGONIES OF DEATH. 75 
 
 to recall the thoughts already struggling to take wing " son 
 of my Ibrahim, do not grieve for me ! I have been dying 
 these many days, I have long struggled with Death. He stood 
 at the door ready to take me, but I thrust him back that I 
 might see my son, my darling, once more." 
 
 " O mother, mother ! you are breaking my heart," cried 
 Mohammed, and his head sank heavily upon his mother's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Be brave, my son, I entreat you with my last breath ! Be 
 brave, be a man, and consider my dream with the eye of your 
 soul. Make it reality ! Make of the poor, disconsolate boy 
 who stands here the hero of the future, as I saw you in my 
 visions in the nights before you were born ! I saw a crown 
 on your head and a sword glittered in your hand. And I see 
 the future now. too ; and I will tell you what I see, my son : 
 I see you, your son, and your grandson ! They shall all wear 
 crowns, shall sit on one throne, and the nations shall lie in 
 the dust before them ! My soul has returned to announce this 
 to you." 
 
 " If your soul has returned," said he, in tones of earnest en- 
 treaty, " then command it to remain with you ! Life will be 
 solitary and desolate without you. You are the only woman 
 I love. If you go, take me with you, and tell the prophet, if 
 he be angry, that I could be of no use here on earth without 
 you. Take me to my father and say to ,him, the family shall 
 be united in heaven as it never was on earth." 
 
 " No, you shall not go with me," said she, raising herself 
 with a last effort from the mat. " I command you to live ! I 
 shall go to your father and bear him the greeting of our only 
 son, and say to him, ' We shall not die, we shall live on in 
 our son ; he will make our name great and glorious before the 
 world ! ' But you I command to make true what I shall tell 
 him." 
 
 She sank back. Her head fell heavily on her pillow of dry 
 leaves ; her breathing became short and painful, and her eyes 
 again assumed the vacant expression that had struck such ter- 
 ror to Mohammed's soul. 
 
 " Mother, I entreat you, answer me once more ! Do you 
 hear me ? Do you love me ? "
 
 76 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " I hear you," murmured the stiffening lips. " And do I 
 love you ? Your mother's love struggled with Death for a 
 whole year. He tried to drag me hence, and I struggled with 
 him day after day, and night after night. Love helped me to 
 deceive you, or you would have seen your mother dying day 
 by day. Now, I am going hence, and the agathodaemon will 
 give me new garments, and a new countenance full of youth 
 and beauty, that your father may see me as I looked in the 
 days of our youthful love. O my son, may the woman you 
 are to love be not far distant ; may she soon wing her flight to 
 you, the dove of innocence, with the countenance of love and 
 the fragrance of the rose ? May she open heaven unto you 
 with her star-like eyes ? This is my last blessing, my son. 
 Allah watch over you ! Farewell ! " 
 
 The words were soft and low, like the whispering of a de- 
 parting spirit. Mohammed had listened eagerly, his ear held 
 close to her lips, and he still listened when the light of his 
 mother's eyes was extinguished, and the hand of Death had 
 swept over her countenance, imparting to the white brow a 
 yellow, and to the lips a blue tint. Suddenly he shuddered, 
 raised his head and looked at his mother. He then uttered a 
 shriek, a loud, fearful shriek, that caused the mourning-women 
 outside to bound to their feet, for they knew that it was thus 
 that survivors shriek when Death seizes his prey. 
 
 They now commence their mournings, and farther off other 
 cries and lamentations are heard. The latter are uttered by 
 the friends of Ibrahim Aga. They have placed themselves 
 near the hut to begin, according to a religious custom, the ser- 
 vice of the dead, as soon as the soul shall have left the body. 
 
 They form a circle near the open door. Their arms crossed 
 over their breasts, they stand there, moving their heads con- 
 tinually from one side to the other. " Allah il Allah ! " they 
 cry, and within stand the women shrieking, yelling, and la- 
 menting, over the deceased. They at last arouse Mohammed, 
 who had swooned away beside the body. He springs to his 
 feet, pushes back the women, and bounds into the middle of 
 the circle of men, who whirl around faster and faster ; they 
 suppose he has come to join in their ceremony, but he pushes 
 them aside and rushes forth. He rushes so rapidly up the
 
 A SOUL IN THE AGONIES OF DEATH. 77 
 
 pathway that no one can follow him, and no one attempts to 
 do so. 
 
 " His grief must exhaust itself," they say to each other. 
 " When it has done so, and evening comes, he will return." 
 
 The evening came, but Mohammed had not returned to 
 perform the sacred duty of watching over the dead through, 
 the night, as it became an only son to do. The mourning- 
 women had departed to rest after their exertions. They now 
 returned, the sheik having ordered that they should perform 
 the night-watch in the absence of the son, in order that the 
 ghins might not enter and pronounce their curse over the 
 house, condemning the future generations, descending from 
 the dead, to misery. 
 
 The mourning- women remained the entire night, sometimes 
 interrupting their prayers, to say to each other that Moham- 
 med, the only son, was really a very unnatural child, and re- 
 spected his mother very little, or he would not be wandering 
 about among the rocks, while his mother's body was still un- 
 buried. Then they console themselves with the thought that 
 he will come in the morning, when the tomtom resounds, 
 which calls the people to the funeral. 
 
 The signal is heard on the following morning, and the men 
 come carrying in their crossed arms the Koran. 
 
 The sheik himself condescends to appear at Sitta Khadra's 
 funeral. She was an honest, virtuous woman, and is to be 
 buried with honor beside the grave of her husband, Ibrahim. 
 
 The mourners slowly assemble. The tomtom is still vainly 
 summoning the only son. 
 
 The body has been laid on two boards covered with woollen 
 cloths, and is borne out on the shoulders of four men. The 
 mourning- women yell and shriek, the men murmur prayers, 
 and the drum resounds, while the procession is slowly moving 
 toward the place of burial. 
 
 Mohammed hears nothing of all this. He has fled to the 
 cave, once his paradise, now his hell. There he lies on his 
 mat, looking up through the opening in the rock at the 
 heavens, and cursing the ghins who have robbed him of his 
 mother. But his agathodaemon will intercede with Allah for 
 his forgiveness for the despair which causes his lips to utter
 
 78 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 curses of which his heart knows nothing. The good spirits 
 will intercede for the poor boy. 
 
 " Driven out into the world alone. Poorer than the eagle's 
 brood in their nest overhead, that have tender parents to care 
 for them. No one cares for me." 
 
 The echo mournfully repeats the piercing cry that had re- 
 sounded throughout the cave, and says sadly : " No one, no 
 one ! " He then sinks down on his mat, and lies there motion- 
 less and insensible with grief and horror. 
 
 Without, the sea murmurs gently, as if to sing a song of 
 consolation. He hears it not. All is now so still that the 
 little snakes and green lizards with their sparkling eyes ven- 
 ture forth again from the hiding-places to which they had fled 
 when his despairing voice reverberated through the cave. 
 They creep up to the dark, motionless mass that lies there on 
 the ground. The sun sends its rays through the opening ip 
 the rock, and throws a streak of golden light across the pros- 
 trate body, and the little animals crawl and rustle about to 
 enjoy the sunshine. 
 
 A large rock-serpent has crawled from its lair and coiled 
 itself beside Mohammed ; its eyes glitter in the sunlight like 
 precious stones. 
 
 " I will die die ! " he suddenly cries out, and springs to 
 his feet so quickly that the serpents and lizards barely escape 
 being trodden on as they escape to their holes behind the 
 rocks. " Here I will remain ! How often, in the past, have 1 
 longed to be in my cave my only secret my only possession ! 
 Once, to gratify this longing, I came here, and then turned 
 back, and said to myself : He who cannot practise self-denial, 
 cannot enjoy ! And now I have practised it, and yet I have 
 not enjoyed ! But now I will enjoy will enjoy death, at 
 least ! Yes, I am resolved," said he, with trembling lips u I 
 will remain here and enjoy death ! What does this strug- 
 gling from day to day avail this dreaming of future glory ? 
 Each succeeding day is hi poverty and misery the same. I 
 was a fool to dream of future glory. Now I will die ! Let 
 others be happy ! Let the slave, Osman Bey, attain what the 
 free Mohammed cannot attain. He is welcome to his reward 
 death is at the end of it all, for him, too ! "
 
 A SOUL IN THE AGONIES OF DEATH. 79 
 
 He looks, through the opening in the rock, at the heavens 
 above him, and then rises higher to look down at the sea also, 
 as though he wished to take leave of it in a last glance. He 
 then lies down on his mat again. "Yes, let the slave Osman 
 achieve glory the free Mohammed prefers death ! " 
 
 And yet, against his will, he must still think of the slave 
 who has gone out into the world over the sea to the wondrous 
 land of Egypt, where the caliphs were once enthroned, where 
 their tombs still stand, and where the Mamelukes now rule in 
 their stead. He still dreams of this wondrous land, with its 
 ancient cities, and thinks that these may be the death-dreams 
 that are to lull him to his eternal rest. 
 
 He is suddenly awakened from his dreams by a horrible 
 sensation. It is hunger the hunger that rages within him 
 it is thirst that parches his lips. The soul wishes to die, but 
 the body calls the man back to life, and appeals to him so 
 loudly, so vehemently, that he cannot but listen to its voice. 
 
 He resists with all his might. He will conquer this miser- 
 able hunger, this despicable thirst ; he will not heed the pains 
 that rend his body, he will be strong, and a hero, in death at 
 least. 
 
 Convulsively he clings to the rock as if to a support 
 against the allurements that strive to draw him out into life. 
 But the voice of the world appeals to him, in louder and 
 louder tones, and fearful are the torments he is undergoing. 
 
 The spirit must at last succumb to the demands of Nature. 
 He rises to give to the body what of right belongs to the body : 
 nourishment drink and food. 
 
 He creeps to the entrance, and is so weak that he can 
 hardly pass through the opening, which he had formerly 
 made still narrower, that no one might discover it. He is so 
 weak that he can scarcely stand upright ; his swollen lips are 
 bleeding ; his brain is burning, and he sinks down upon a 
 rock. A kindly voice now calls him. He hears it, but lacks 
 the strength to answer. 
 
 " Mohammed ! Mohammed ! " is heard again, and now the 
 merchant, Lion, approaches from behind a projecting rock. 
 He had seen the boy. but knowing his proud heart, and fear- 
 ing to put him to shame by showing himself, and saying that
 
 80 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 he came to his assistance, he had lingered behind the rock. 
 He now kneels down beside the boy, bends over him, kisses 
 his lips, and whispers loving words in his ear. 
 
 " Poor child ! Your mother, who loved you so tenderly, 
 would weep bitterly if she could see you in this condition. 
 Poor boy, you must strengthen yourself ! I know you have 
 eaten nothing, and I have brought you food ! " 
 
 He drew a bottle from from his pocket, and poured a little 
 wine on his lips. Mohammed tried to resist, but the body 
 was stronger than the will. He greedily swallows the wine, 
 and, without knowing it, asks for more. The merchant smiles 
 approvingly, and pours a little more on his lips, and then 
 gives him a small piece of white bread that he had brought 
 with him, and rejoices when he sees Mohammed breathing 
 with renewed life. 
 
 " What are you doing ? " he murmured ; '' I must die, that 
 I may go to my mother ! " 
 
 The merchant stooped down lower over the boy, and kissed 
 him. "Your mother, who loves you so dearly, sends you this 
 kiss, through me. She confided to me that she must die, and 
 I promised her that I would bring you a kiss from her when- 
 ever I saw you. With this kiss she commands you to be brave 
 and happy throughout life." 
 
 And, as he ceased speaking, he inclined his head and kissed 
 him a second time. 
 
 Now, as he receives this kiss from his mother, the tears 
 suddenly burst from his eyes and pour down his cheeks hot 
 tears and yet they cool and alleviate the burning pains of his 
 soul. 
 
 " You weep," said the merchant, whose own cheeks were 
 wet with grief ; " weep on, pain must have its relief in tears, 
 and even a man need not be ashamed of them." 
 
 He sat down beside Mohammed, drew him close to his side, 
 supporting the boy's head on his bosom, and spoke to him of 
 his dear mother. 
 
 " Nor are you poor, Mohammed. Your mother returned to 
 me your love-offering, together with other sums she had 
 saved. I have fifty gold-pieces for you ! Yes, fifty glittering 
 gold-pieces ! You can now dress better than formerly, until
 
 A SOUL IN THE AGONIES OF DEATH. gl 
 
 provision is made for your future ; and, if you should need 
 advice or assistance, come to me. You know that I am your 
 friend. And now, be happy and courageous ; remember that 
 poor Sitta Khadra has suffered much, and let her be at rest 
 now. Another friend is awaiting you above on the rock ; 
 will you go up to him ? " 
 
 "It is Osman, is it not ? " asked Mohammed, as he dried his 
 eyes. " Am I not right ? " 
 
 The merchant inclined his head. "He could not come 
 down the steep path, or he would be here now." 
 
 " I will go to him ; I know he loves me. He will not laugh 
 when he sees that I have been weeping." 
 
 No, Osman did not laugh. When he saw his friend com- 
 ing, he advanced to meet him with extended arms, and they 
 embraced each other tenderly, tears standing in the eyes of 
 both. 
 
 All was still ; nothing could be heard but the murmur of 
 the sea, and the rustling of the wind. 
 
 The merchant, who had at first stood in silence beside the 
 two, now walked noiselessly away. 
 
 They love each other, and what they have to say, no one 
 else should hear. 
 
 Mohammed stands up and dries his eyes ; he wishes to be 
 composed. Osman holds out his hand : 
 
 '' Your mother is dead, but she survives in your friends, 
 and your mother and your friend now extend the hand to you. 
 Mohammed, come with me to my house, for my house is yours, 
 too. I will not have you remain alone ; you must come with 
 me." 
 
 Mohammed shook his head gravely. " It cannot be I will 
 not become a slave ! " 
 
 " Come, out of love for me. Not as my slave, but as my 
 friend. Oh, I am so lonely, and you are the only one who 
 loves, and can console, poor, sickly Osman." 
 
 " I will come to you ! " exclaimed Mohammed, drawing his 
 friend to his bosom. " Even as a slave would I come, for I 
 should be my friend's slave. I will come to you."
 
 2 MOBAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 COUSROUF PACHA. 
 
 THE days had passed quietly and monotonously for Mo- 
 hammed since the death of his mother. 
 
 To climb among the rocks with his gun in stormy weather, 
 to cross over in his boat to Imbra, after the fishermen's nets 
 and fish, and to tame the young Arabian steeds of the tschor- 
 badji that had as yet known no bridle, these were now Mo- 
 hammed's chief pursuits and pleasures, and in them he engaged 
 with passionate ardor when at leisure, that is, when not with 
 his friend Osman Bey. 
 
 That which they had vowed to each other after the death 
 of Mohammed's mother, they had kept true and firm friend- 
 ship, brotherly and confidential intercourse. With one wish 
 only of young Osman, had Mohammed not complied : he had 
 not gone to live with him in the proud, governmental build- 
 ing had refused to share his friend's luxury and magnifi- 
 cence, and to allow his poverty to be put to shame by the 
 benefits which he would have been compelled to accept. 
 
 The hut, inherited from his parents, he retained as his own 
 dwelling. In it nothing had been changed ; the mat on which 
 his mother had died was now his bed. In the pitcher out of 
 which she had drunk, he each morning brought fresh water 
 from the spring, and all the articles she had used, poor and 
 miserable as they were, now constituted the furniture of 
 his hut. 
 
 In vain had Osman continually renewed his entreaties : 
 " Come to me. Live with me ; not for your own sake, Mo- 
 hammed. I know that you despise luxury, and that the 
 splendor that surrounds us is offensive to you. Not for your 
 own, but for my sake, Mohammed, come to me and live with 
 us. My father is so anxious to have you do so, for he knows 
 that your presence is the best medicine for me. I feel so well 
 and strong when I look at you, Mohammed ; and, when you 
 sometimes yield to my entreaties and spend the night with 
 me in my room, it seems to me I sleep better, for I know
 
 COUSROUF PACHA. 33 
 
 that my friend is watching over me. Stay with me, Moham- 
 med ! " 
 
 These soft entreaties, accompanied by tender looks, touched 
 Mohammed, but they could not shake his resolution. 
 
 " I cannot and dare not accept, Osman. It would make me 
 unhappy ; I should feel myself under too much restraint ; I 
 must, above all, preserve the consciousness of being perfectly 
 free and independent. I must feel that I can leave when I 
 choose, and for this very reason is it so sweet to remain to be 
 with you, unfettered for your sake only, Osman. If I should 
 come and live with you in the palace of the tschorbadji, do 
 you not think I should be an object of dislike to your slaves 
 and servants ; that they would point at me when I passed, and 
 whisper : ' How proud and insolent he is, and yet he is less 
 than I ! We are the slaves of our master, and repay with our 
 work the money he spends on our account. But what is he ? 
 A proud beggar supported by charity, who has the impudence 
 to give himself the airs of a gentleman.' Your slaves would 
 say this of me, and mock me with my beggar pride. But, as 
 it is, I am free, and my clothing is my own. It is certainly 
 not as handsome as yours, the caftan not embroidered, the 
 shawl not of Persian make, and the kuffei around my fez not 
 inworked with gold. But yet it is my own, and it pleases me 
 to be thus plainly dressed, as it becomes the son of Ibrahim 
 Aga. I live as it becomes me ; my hut is dark and poor but 
 it is mine, and in it I am a free man. I do not sleep on soft 
 cushions ; a plain mat is my bed, but on this mat my mother 
 reposed, and on it she died. To me it is sacred. I pray to my 
 mother each night, Osman, and I greet her each morning 
 when I drink out of the wooden cup so often touched by her 
 lips. I should have to give up all this, and come here to re- 
 pose in splendid apartments, sleep on silken mattresses, and 
 allow myself to be waited on by slaves who do not belong to 
 me. No, Osman, do not demand this ; let me come to you 
 each day, of my own free-will and love." 
 
 He extended his hand to his friend, who, as usual, lay re- 
 clining on his couch, and Osman pressed it warmly in his 
 own. 
 
 " You are a proud boy," said he, in low tones, " and though
 
 84 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 your refusal gives me pain, I can still understand that in your 
 sense you are right, Mohammed. In short, you do not wish 
 to be grateful to anybody." 
 
 " And yet I am grateful to you, Osman," said Mohammed, 
 regarding him tenderly ; " all my heart is full of gratitude 
 and love for you ; but how much do I owe to you ! Is it not for 
 your sake that your father, the proud tschorbadji, is so kind 
 and friendly to me ? Does he not allow me, the lowly born, to 
 sit with him at his table, and treat me as his equal ? " 
 
 " Because he well knows that you would otherwise never 
 corne to me again," said Osman, with a sad smile. " He is care- 
 ful not to hurt or offend you in any way, for, as you know, 
 my father loves me very dearly, and it would give him pain 
 to deprive me of the only friend I possess. My father knows 
 that you are my benefactor, and that I live from your life, 
 Mohammed. Look at me wonderingly, if you will ; I am a 
 sick child, and shall remain one, although years have made 
 me a youth. And let me tell you, Mohammed, I shall never 
 become a strong, healthy man. I have very weak lungs, in- 
 herited from my mother, and if it were not for you, if I had 
 not been sustained by your healthy and vigorous mind and 
 disposition, I should have died long since. Therefore, do not 
 say that you have cause to be grateful to me. My father and 
 I both have cause to be grateful to you, for my father loves 
 me and rejoices in my life ; and I, too, am very glad to live. 
 The sun is so beautiful, it is so delightful to look at the deep- 
 blue sky, the flowers are so fragrant, and finally it is such a 
 pleasure to see you and to rejoice in your vigorous mind. I 
 therefore owe every thing to you, Mohammed, and father and 
 I know this, and are very thankful." 
 
 '' Those are sweet words, Osman," said Mohammed, bestow- 
 ing an affectionate look on his friend. " You are so noble and 
 generous, that you wish to make it appear that all the benefits 
 I have received from you were bestowed by me. But Allah 
 knows that I am profoundly grateful, and I am aware, too, 
 that I have cause to be. Only consider, that to you and your 
 father I owe all that I know. Have I not been allowed to 
 share the instruction given you ? Has not the scha-er, whom 
 your father, as his narratives pleased us so much, kept here at
 
 COUSROUF PACHA. 35 
 
 a heavy expense, instructed me, too, and taught us both the his- 
 tory of our own and of all other countries ? Have I not had the 
 same opportunities as yourself of learning of all that is going 
 on out in the world ? Did I not share your instruction in all 
 other branches ? Have not the poems of our land been read 
 to us, and have we not learned to understand the Koran, and 
 receive into our souls the wise teachings of the prophet Ma- 
 hommed ? Have we not also learned the difficult science of 
 algebra, and are we not familiar with the laws of justice ? Do 
 I not owe it entirely to the instruction which I have shared 
 with you that I can also read the Koran and the books of the 
 prophets and poets ? Ah, Osman, I still remember with shame 
 how I was sorrowfully compelled to confess to our teacher in 
 our first lessons, that I knew and understood nothing ; that I 
 could not read, and did not even know the letters and fig- 
 ures." 
 
 " And how rapidly you learned all this ! " said Osman. 
 " It surprised everybody, and I assure you the scha-er is al- 
 ways charmed when he speaks of you, and he listens admir- 
 ingly to what you say after the lessons are over. Yes, the 
 scha-er says, if you only would you could become one of the 
 greatest of scholars, so rapid has been your progress ; but " 
 
 " But one thing I have not learned," said Mohammed, inter- 
 rupting him with a smile. " You were about to begin the old 
 story, were you not, Osman ? ' But you never would learn to 
 write,' you were about to say." 
 
 " Yes, that is what I intended to say, my friend, and this 
 one thing you must still learn : to use the pen and write down 
 your thoughts on paper.'' 
 
 " I cannot," cried Mohammed, impatiently ; " my hands are 
 too rough. The oar and the gun have mad my fingers so 
 stiff that I cannot use the pen." 
 
 "Then let it be so, I will torment you about it no longer," 
 said Osman, with a sigh. " You are my head and I am your 
 hand. You think for me, and I shall write for you. So shall it 
 be throughout our entire lives, for together we two must remain, 
 and nothing can separate us. Is it not so, my friend ? Say it, 
 and say it often, that nothing can separate us. For you must 
 know that if fate should tear you from me it would kill me,
 
 gg MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 and that you cannot intend : therefore, we shall ever remain 
 together, shall we not ? " 
 
 " We shall ever remain together," said Mohammed. u That 
 is Osman, consider well what you are saying, for you are 
 nearly eighteen years old." 
 
 " As you are," responded Osman, smiling. 
 
 " Only with this difference, that your father will give you 
 with your eighteenth year, a beautiful aristocratic lady to 
 wife, and establish a harem for you ; while Mohammed Ali 
 will never have either a sweetheart or a harem, but will al- 
 ways remain alone and un wedded." 
 
 " Who knows ? " replied Osman, laughing. " Those who 
 assure us they will never love, says the poet, are the one's that 
 fall in love soonest. One is easily surprised by the enemy 
 who is not feared, and against whose snares the heart is not 
 on its guard. . . . This will be your fate, Mohammed. Your 
 heart is not on its guard, and does not fear the enemy, love. 
 . . . But my poor heart has no cause to fear and be on its 
 guard ; let me repeat it, Mohammed ; look at me. Can the 
 poor, pale youth, with his wan countenance, his sunken breast, 
 and his weak breath can he think of marrying ? Or do you 
 suppose I would care to become a subject of jest in the harem 
 to the female slaves and servants, who would have to wait on 
 the sick man ? True, the tschorbadji, my father, has some- 
 times spoken of giving me an establishment of my own with 
 my eighteenth year. I remained silent, for fortunately it is at 
 present impossible. My establishment was to have been above 
 in the upper saloons, and fortunately [Cousrouf Pacha with 
 his harem is still in possession of that part of our house. May 
 he long remain there ! I do not wish it on his account, or be- 
 cause I love him, but solely because my father must now de- 
 lay the execution of this plan. May Cousrouf Pacha, there- 
 fore, long remain ! " 
 
 " I do not wish it," said Mohammed, gloomily ; " he is a 
 hard, proud man, better in his own estimation than anybody 
 here in Cavalla, better even than the tschorbadji. I never saw 
 a prouder man. And what right has he to be so ? Has he 
 not fallen into disgrace with the sultan ? Did he not come 
 here because he was banished from Stamboul ? And do you
 
 COUSROUF PACHA. 37 
 
 know why he was banished ? I will tell you : because so 
 have strangers who have come here reported because he 
 sought the death of his benefactor and master, the grand ad- 
 miral, Hussein Pacha, in order that he might put himself in 
 his place. Isn't this horrible, Osman ? The grand-admiral 
 had bought him as a slave, and then, because he loved him, 
 made him free, and a wealthy man ; he had him instructed, 
 and persuaded the sultan to appoint him bey and pacha ; and 
 in return for all this, Cousrouf Pacha attempted to poison his 
 master and benefactor, and calumniated him to the grand sul- 
 tan. Isn't this horrible ? " 
 
 u It certainly would be if it were true," said Osman ; " yet 
 I do not believe it. Much is told and said of the great and 
 mighty, and they are often calumniated and accused of evil 
 deeds which they have not committed. If it were so, do you 
 not suppose the grand-admiral, Hussein Pacha, the mighty 
 man, and the grand-sultan, would have punished him as he 
 deserved ? No, my father says differently, and has received 
 from Stamboul other and more reliable information. Cous- 
 rouf Pacha has fallen into disgrace that is a fixed fact and 
 the sultan has sent him into exile. Yet he did so against the 
 wish of the Grand- Admiral Hussein. Do you know why 
 Cousrouf has fallen into disgrace ? Because he refused to go 
 to Egypt as pacha, declaring that was equivalent to sending 
 him into an open grave, as he should never return home from 
 that land of rebels and Mamelukes. The sultan wished to 
 send him to Egypt because he suspected him of having a secret 
 amorous intrigue with one of the sultanas. The sultan had 
 been told that Cousrouf Pacha was in the habit of being se- 
 cretly conducted to the sultana's chamber at night by a female 
 slave. As the sultan stealthily approached and opened the 
 door of the chamber, he heard a rustling and whispering, but 
 it was so dark in the room that he could see nothing. He 
 called slaves with torches to his assistance. They searched 
 the room, but found nothing. The sultana stood on the bal- 
 cony looking out into the starlit night. She met her husband 
 with a smiling countenance, saying the night was so beauti- 
 ful, she had gone out to gaze at the stars. The sultan, it is 
 said, gnashed his teeth with rage, but kept silence, as it would
 
 S8 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 have been unworthy of his dignity to threaten where he could 
 not also punish. On the following morning he sent Cousrouf 
 Pacha into exile to this place, my father tells me. But it is 
 thought the sultan's anger will soon expend itself, and that his 
 friend the grand-admiral, Hussein Pacha, will succeed in re- 
 storing his favorite to honor. Cousrouf Pacha, my father 
 says, is already heartily tired of his tedious sojourn here, and 
 has written to Hussein Pacha .that he is now ready to go to 
 Egypt as pacha." 
 
 "Ready to revel in the glories of the world ! Truly this 
 great Cousrouf Pacha is very condescending ! " cried Moham- 
 med, in derisive tones. u He acts as though he were confer- 
 ring a favor in accepting that for which another would give 
 his heart's blood." 
 
 " Would you, Mohammed ? " asked Osman, smiling. 
 
 ' I would give my blood, drop by drop, only retaining 
 enough to sustain life. Oh, to live there ! To go to Egypt as 
 the grand-sultan's pacha, to rule in that beautiful land, to 
 make the rebels, the Mamelukes, and the beys, bow down in 
 the dust ! To vanquish them all, Osman, this is my dream of 
 bliss, this is but no, I am still the same foolish boy, dreaming 
 of impossibilities ! See, there come those of whom we have 
 been speaking," raising his hand and pointing to the hall-way. 
 " There comes the tschorbadji with Cousrouf Pacha. Let me 
 go now, Osman ; it is unpleasant to be in the vicinity of this 
 haughty man ; my heart always fiercely resents his insolence ! 
 Let me go ! " 
 
 Osman held him back. " See, they are looking at us, Mo- 
 hammed. If you should go now, it would look as though you 
 desired to avoid my father also, and that you assuredly do not 
 wish. Moreover, the haughty gentleman might think that 
 respect for him made you run away, as the lizard flees before 
 the footstep of man. 'Stay ! " 
 
 " You are right," said Mohammed, " I shall stay." 
 
 He straightened himself up, threw his head back proudly, 
 folded his arms on his breast, and stood beside his friend's 
 couch, gazing composedly at the two gentlemen who were ad- 
 vancing toward them, followed by a number of slaves. 
 
 As they came nearer, the tschorbadji stepped hastily for-
 
 COUSROUF PACHA. 89 
 
 ward to greet his son with loving, tender words. Mohammed 
 inclined his head with profound reverence before the father 
 of his beloved friend. He then raised his head again, and 
 firmly met the glance of the haughty Cousrouf Pacha, with- 
 out any manifestation of deference whatever. The latter 
 stepped forward, and greeted Osinan with friendly words ; he 
 then turned, and fixed his dark-gray eyes on the young man 
 who stood beside him, awaiting his deferential salutation. 
 
 But Mohammed did not salute him. He still stood erect, 
 his arms folded on his breast, beside his friend's couch. 
 
 The pacha slowly turned to the governor. "Tell me, 
 tschorbadji, who is this person ? Your slave, is he not ? " 
 
 " No," cried Osman, rising partially from his couch, and 
 anticipating his father's reply. u No, your excellency, he is 
 not our slave, but my friend, my beloved friend, Mohammed 
 Ali." 
 
 " Your friend ! A great honor for such a lad, too great an 
 honor, I should think," said Cousrouf Pacha, directing a fierce 
 glance at Mohammed, who still stood erect beside him. 
 
 " Why should your excellency think so ? " asked he in 
 sharp, almost threatening tones. " Why is it too great an 
 honor that the son of the tschorbadji calls me his friend ? 
 Has it not occurred that aristocratic gentlemen have elevated 
 to an equality with themselves, and made friends even of. 
 slaves, and purchased boys ? I remember hearing the scha-er 
 tell of a Circassian slave whom the grand-admiral, at Stamboul, 
 purchased, and subsequently called his friend. He was not 
 ashamed of him, although the lad called Cousrouf was. after 
 all, only a slave." 
 
 " In the name of Allah, I pray you, be still ! " cried the 
 tschorbadji, looking anxiously at Mohammed. 
 
 " And why should he be still ? " asked Cousrouf, in cold, 
 cutting tones. " He is merely telling a story learned from 
 the scha-er. You know, tschorbadji, it is customary to pay 
 story-tellers, and give them a piaster. Here, take your pay, 
 you little scha-er." 
 
 The pacha drew from his silken purse, filled with gold- 
 pieces, a ducat, and threw it at the boy's feet. 
 
 Mohammed uttered a cry of rage, and took up the gold- 
 7
 
 90 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 piece as though he intended to throw it in the pacha's face. 
 But Osman held his hand, and begged him in a low voice to 
 be composed. 
 
 Mohammed struggled to compose himself. His face was 
 pale, his lips trembled, and his eyes gleamed with wrath and 
 hatred, as he glanced at the pacha ; then his countenance be- 
 came firm and composed. He beckoned to a slave who stood 
 at a distance, to approach, and threw him the gold-piece. 
 " The slave gives the slave his reward. Take it, thou slave ! " 
 
 A moment of silence and anxious suspense intervened, and 
 then Mohammed's and the pacha's eyes met again in a fierce, 
 piercing glance. The pacha then turned, and addressed the 
 tschorbadji : 
 
 " If he were my servant," said he, " I should have him 
 taken out to the court-yard for his insolence. If he there re- 
 ceived, as he richly deserves, the bastinado, I think he would 
 soon become humble and quiet. The viper bites no longer 
 when its fangs are extracted. I tell you, tschorbadji, if he 
 were my servant, he should now receive the bastinado." 
 
 " And if you were my servant," exclaimed Mohammed, 
 haughtily, " I should treat you in precisely the same manner, 
 sir. The bastinado is very painful, I am told, and you prob- 
 ably know it by personal experience. But this you should 
 know, too, sir, that here on the peninsula of Contessa, slaves 
 only are chastised, and slaves only receive the bastinado. 
 I, however, have never been a slave, but always a free man ; 
 and what I am and shall be, I am, I am proud to say, through 
 myself alone. I have not been bought and bargained for, 
 and I sleep better in nay dark little hut than others who were 
 once slaves, and who, having risen through the favor of their 
 masters, now repose on silken couches." 
 
 " Tschorbadji Hassan ! " cried Cousrouf, pale with anger, 
 and hardly capable of restraining himself from striking the 
 bold youth in the face with his own fist " Tschorbadji Hassan, 
 you shall punish the insolence of this servant who dares to 
 insult me, Cousrouf Pacha. I demand of you punishment for 
 this insolence." 
 
 " I have broken no law, and there is no law that condemns 
 me to punishment," said Mohammed, firmly and composedly.
 
 COUSROUF PACHA. 91 
 
 " Your excellency does me the honor to dispute with me, that 
 is all. With us punishment is meted out according to the 
 law only, and not at the pleasure of every grand gentleman." 
 
 The tschorbadji stepped up to Cousrouf Pacha, and earn- 
 estly conjured him to show mercy to his son's friend, for his 
 sake. 
 
 " Consider that Osman is my only child, and my only hap- 
 piness. Consider that he loves Mohammed as if he were a 
 brother. The physicians say he would die if separated from 
 Mohammed. Be merciful, and forgive the insolence provoked 
 by your own overbearing words. I entreat you to be merci- 
 ful, and to come away with me." 
 
 He took Cousrouf's arm in his own, and drew him away, 
 almost forcibly entreating him, with all the anxiety of a 
 father's heart, to forgive the uncultured youth, who knew 
 nothing of becoming deportment and polished manners. He 
 was an untamed lion, unfamiliar with the gentle ways of the 
 domestic animals. 
 
 " And yet I wish I had this young lion in my power," said 
 Cousrouf, gnashing his teeth with rage, as he followed the 
 governor. " I should extract his teeth, and prove to the mon- 
 ster that he was not a lion, but only a miserable cat, to be 
 trodden under my feet ! " 
 
 The tschorbadji drew him away more rapidly, that Moham- 
 med might not hear him. He had looked back and perceived 
 that Mohammed was standing still, gazing at them with a 
 threatening eye, and, in reality with the bearing of a lion pre- 
 pared for the deadly spring. 
 
 When they had disappeared, Osman rose from his cush- 
 ions, stood up, threw his arms around his friend's neck, and 
 kissed his quivering lips. 
 
 ' ; I thank you, my hero, my king, my lion ! You stood 
 there like David before Goliath, and overthrew him in the 
 dust. You made the insolent giant small, you hero. I thank 
 you, my Mohammed ! "
 
 92 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE REVOLT. 
 
 THE great square which lay in the centre of the village of 
 Praousta resounded with wild outcries and clamorings. All 
 the men of the place had assembled by the sea-shore ; they 
 were generally honest, peaceful sailors, but to-day they were 
 raging rebels roused to revolt against those in authority, and 
 refusing obedience to the tschorbadji. 
 
 Two pale, trembling men stood in the midst of the revolt- 
 ing crowd. They were evidently Turks, by their closely-fitting 
 uniforms, and the scarlet fez on their heads ; the short arms 
 which hung at their sides showed them to be the Jcavassen, or 
 the collectors of the tschorbadji. 
 
 These collectors were always an abomination to the people 
 of Praousta ; they greeted them constantly with murmuring 
 when they came to collect the taxes, and often, before now, 
 the appeasing, tranquillizing words of the sheik had alone se- 
 cured the payment of the sums demanded. To-day, however, 
 their long-restrained indignation had broken forth. To-day, 
 although the sea was so still and peaceful, no one had gone 
 out to fish, for it had been fully determined that on this day 
 they would refuse the demands of the governor's collectors. 
 The collectors had gone to the village, suspecting nothing. 
 The assessment had been brought by one of them several days 
 before to the sheik, who had received it with a very troubled 
 countenance. 
 
 " A double tax ! " he had said ; " that will be most unwel- 
 come to the men of Praousta." 
 
 The messenger of the tschorbadji merely shrugged his 
 shoulders. " They will pay it, nevertheless, as the men in 
 Cavalla and other places have done. The money must be col- 
 lected." Then, with the haughty bearing which the officials 
 of the tschorbadji always assumed, he retired. 
 
 The sheik called together a council of the oldest men of the 
 village and the ulemas. and informed them that the tschor- 
 badji was compelled to lay a double tax on them at this time,
 
 THE REVOLT. 93 
 
 because, although his own expenses had been greater, he was 
 obliged to forward the usual amount to Stamboul. New 
 roads had been built ; besides that, the tobacco-crop had failed,, 
 and new public buildings had been erected. All these ex- 
 penses must be met, as well as the full amount for Stamboul, 
 which must on no account be lessened. 
 
 The men had declared at once, with angry words, that they 
 would never pay the tax. On the morning of the day when 
 the two collectors came from Cavalla, the men of the village 
 assembled in the square as they had determined to do, and 
 greeted them with loud and angry clamorings. 
 
 "We will pay no double tax," cried Abdallah, the leader 
 of the fishermen. " It is quite enough that we are obliged to 
 pay any tax. What do the grand-sultan and his ministers do 
 for us ? Not one of them aids us when our crops fail or when 
 we suffer from other misfortunes. When we have double 
 crops, must we not always pay a double tax ? But this year 
 we have not even good crops. Our tobacco-crops have failed ; 
 our fishing-nets, with all the fish we had taken, have been lost 
 in the storms. Tell us, then, for what reasons we must pay a 
 double tax ? " 
 
 "The reasons, my dear fishermen," said the collectors 
 " the reasons are, that the tschorbadji commands it, and his 
 commands must be obeyed, because the grand-sultan has made 
 him your governor." 
 
 " If those were reasons," shrieked the fishermen, " the tschor- 
 badji could drive us from our huts, and take from us all that is 
 ours. Those are no reasons ; no, we will not pay the tax ! " 
 
 " You must, and you will ! " cried the second officer. 
 
 That was the signal for all the men to draw their knives 
 with lightning-speed from their belts. They brandished them 
 in their fists, pressing from all sides upon the two officers, and 
 swearing to kill them if they did not go at once to Cavalla and 
 announce what had occurred here. 
 
 Some of the men rushed off to the dwelling of the sheik, 
 while others hastened to bring the ulemas to the square. 
 
 " Are we to pay the double tax, sheik ? Speak for us ; 
 tell the officers what answer they must take to the tschor- 
 badji."
 
 94 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 The sheik bowed kindly on every side as he made his way 
 through the circle of armed men. All was profound silence 
 as he came before the two officers, and all present listened in 
 breathless silence to his words. 
 
 " Lo, ye servants of justice ! " exclaimed the sheik in a 
 solemn voice, " I say, go up to the city, and inform the tschor- 
 badji that he has demanded more than is just of the men of 
 Praousta." 
 
 An overwhelming, thundering huzza interrupted the 
 sheik. 
 
 "Speak on," was then the cry. ''Let us hear what the 
 good sheik has to say to us ! " 
 
 Once more there was breathless silence, and the sheik pro- 
 ceeded in solemn tones : 
 
 " State to the tschorbadji that, by the will of Allah, we 
 have been pursued by storms and misfortunes. We submit 
 to the will of Allah, and pray to the prophet, to implore him 
 to be merciful to us. If he hears our prayers, and the next 
 harvest is blessed, and the fish are plentiful in our nets, and if 
 then the purses of the people of Praousta are again filled, they 
 will gladly pay the tschorbadji the accustomed tax, but not a 
 double tax." 
 
 " No, not a double tax ! " shrieked the men. " We must 
 pay, that the tschorbadji may live in pride and splendor with 
 his aristocratic guest, who keeps a harem, and has himself 
 borne about in a palanquin, or rides a splendid horse through 
 the streets, while we have to content ourselves with humbly 
 walking. No, we pay no more for the tschorbadji and his 
 aristocratic guest. Long live our sheik, who stands by us ! 
 Go up, officers, and deliver the message he has given you." 
 
 The officers, frightened and trembling, were well pleased 
 to escape unharmed from the raging crowd. They passed 
 hurriedly through the narrow passage which was opened for 
 them on the way toward Cavalla. 
 
 " Long live our sheik ! Allah be praised for him ! " cried 
 the men, raising him and the three ulemas, in their enthusi- 
 asm, on their shoulders, and carrying them to their dwell- 
 ings. 
 
 " You stood by us, sheik, and we wish to thank you," said
 
 THE REVOLT. 95 
 
 Abdallah, speaking for all, when they had put the sheik down 
 before his house. 
 
 " I stand by you," answered the sheik, giving his hand to 
 all, " but you must stand by each other. We have held a 
 council through the entire night, and we have concluded that 
 the demand is unjust, and have therefore, in the name of the 
 people, declined to meet it. Now, however, you must not be 
 intimidated ; you must be firm. Then no one will dare to 
 molest us." 
 
 " We will be firm in what we have determined, and not 
 give way," cried they all. "Long live the sheik and the 
 ulemas ! " 
 
 " Now return quietly to your houses, and wait to see what 
 the tschorbadji will do," said the sheik. " We shall see if he 
 is content with your refusal." 
 
 The men obeyed the order of the sheik, and went to their 
 huts, to await there the next movement. 
 
 The two officers returned, with rapid steps, to Cavalla. 
 
 The governor was seated in the hall, with his favorite, his 
 Osman, by whose side was Mohammed, who had yielded to 
 the entreaties of his friend, and spent the last few months with 
 him. 
 
 Osman considered it a great kindness that Mohammed had r 
 at last, agreed to his wishes, and had remained with him at 
 night. When the governor looked joyfully at his son, and 
 said he had never seen him so gay and happy, Osman smiled 
 and nodded toward Mohammed. "You should thank Mo- 
 hammed ; as long as he remains in our house, the air seems 
 purer and fresher to me. He alone understands how to make 
 me well, and, if I could always have him with me, I would be 
 the happiest of men." 
 
 The tschorbadji offered his hand to Mohammed, bowing 
 and smiling kindly. " Mohammed, I wish you would, at last, 
 yield to the united prayers of my son and myself, and would 
 consent to live in this house. Let me have two sons, and I 
 shall be doubly rich." 
 
 " In veneration I will be your son," replied Mohammed, 
 pressing the governor's hand to his brow ; " I will obey you 
 in all things ! One thing alone do not demand that I shall
 
 96 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUtiE. 
 
 irrevocably relinquish my freedom. Let me come and go at 
 my pleasure. Love always draws me back to my Osruan, 
 even when, in the restlessness of my heart, I wander on the 
 sea, or in the mountains, or remain solitary in my silent hut. 
 Friendship for you has bound chains about my soul, and I 
 must always return. Leave to me the feeling of independence, 
 or I shall not be happy." 
 
 Osman nodded smilingly to him. " It shall be as you wish, 
 and we will never weary him again, my father, with our 
 prayers. He will return to us, he says, and Mohammed al- 
 ways keeps his word. But look, father ! What can be the 
 matter with these two officers who are hurling toward us ! " 
 
 " They seem to have met with some misfortune ; they look 
 pale and excited, and are coming here without being an- 
 nounced," he said, rising from his cushions, and beckoning to 
 the collectors, who had remained respectfully standing at the 
 entrance, to come forward. " Well, what is the matter ? You 
 look as disturbed as if something dreadful had happened to 
 you!" 
 
 " Yes, governor, something dreadful has happened," they 
 answered, bowing deeply. " We have been down to Praousta, 
 as your excellency ordered, to collect the double tax." 
 
 " And you have brought the gold with you, and given it to 
 my treasurer ? " 
 
 '* No, we have not brought it ! " 
 
 " Not brought it ! " exclaimed the tschorbadji, with the ut- 
 most astonishment ; " I send you to collect the taxes, and you 
 return without the money ! Have thieves fallen upon you, 
 and robbed you ? My collectors have allowed the gold to be 
 taken from them, and now dare to appear, empty-handed, be- 
 fore me ! " 
 
 " O governor, we are innocent," replied the men ; " no 
 thieves took the money from us, but the men of Praousta have 
 revolted ; they have assembled together in the market-place, 
 and have solemnly declared that they will never pay the 
 double tax ! " 
 
 While they were making their report, Mohammed sprung 
 from his seat, and listened breathlessly to them. 
 
 " They refused to pay the tax," said the tschorbadji, in an
 
 THE REVOLT. 97 
 
 angry voice. "And did you not go to the sheik and ule- 
 mas?" 
 
 " The men of Praousta went themselves, and brought out 
 the sheik and the ulemas, that they might speak decisively for 
 all. We were to take their answer to the tschorbadji." 
 
 "And they did this?" cried Mohammed, forgetting all 
 proper reverence, and speaking to the men in the presence of 
 the governor. 
 
 "Yes, they did this," returned the collectors, breathing 
 hard. 
 
 " What did they say ! " demanded the tschorbadji, ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 " The sheik looked at us contemptuously, and ordered us to 
 state to the tschorbadji that Praousta had no thought of pay- 
 ing either the double or the simple tax." 
 
 " And the ulemas ? " asked Osman, rising from his couch, 
 " did they confirm what the sheik said ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, they confirmed what the sheik said," answered 
 the collectors. 
 
 " It is then an open revolt," cried the outraged tschorbadji. 
 " They refuse obedience to my commands ! " 
 
 " Yes, they refuse to obey you ! " repeated the collectors. 
 " Every fisherman has armed himself with sword and knife, 
 and swears to die sooner than pay this unjust tax, as they 
 caU it." 
 
 " And you allowed yourselves to be frightened by such 
 words," cried Mohammed, with naming eyes. " And you did 
 not fall upon them, sword in hand, to force them to their 
 duty ! " 
 
 " We were but two against fifty ! " 
 
 " Two men against fifty cowards ! I should think the men 
 would have carried the day. But you are not men ; you did 
 not even draw your swords and fell this seditious sheik to the 
 earth ! " 
 
 " The people would have torn us to pieces ! " exclaimed the 
 collectors, " if we had attempted it." 
 
 ''You would have perished in the fulfilment of your 
 duty ! " cried Mohammed. " Far better that, than to return 
 home with the knowledge that you had acted as cowards ! "
 
 98 MOHAMMED ALI AAD HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Osman looked wonderingly at his friend, while the tschor- 
 badji stood lost in thought, his countenance growing darker 
 and darker. 
 
 " This is revolt rebellion ! " he said, after a pause. " What 
 shall I do ? The men of Praousta are remarkable for their 
 strength, as well as for their free and independent opinions." 
 
 He ordered the collectors to leave the room, and await his 
 call without ; then paced thoughtfully up and down. The 
 two young men dared not disturb him. 
 
 " I do not know what to do," he said, after a long silence. 
 " I have no military force, and in Praousta dwell more than 
 fifty brave, bold men. You know I have only fifty collectors 
 in my service in all the districts of the peninsula. I do not 
 know where to begin ; even if I had the men, I would very 
 unwillingly use force. I believe the best thing I can do would 
 be to go down, with a few servants, to the village, and seek, 
 by kind words, to quiet the people, and induce them to pay 
 the tax. What do you think, my son, Osman ? " 
 
 Mohammed listened, with flashing eyes, to the tschorbadji ; 
 and breathlessly awaited Osman's answer. But Osman only 
 looked at his friend, and said to his father, " Ask Mohammed 
 what he thinks." 
 
 " Well, then, you speak, Mohammed," said the tschorbadji ; 
 " what do you think of my proposition ? " 
 
 " I think that such a thing should never be permitted. It 
 does not become you to go and beg, when you should com- 
 mand, governor," he cried. " Will you empower me to collect 
 the tax ? " 
 
 " How will you do it ? " asked the tschorbadji, with a doubt- 
 ing smile. 
 
 " That is my secret, governor. Give me authority to treat 
 with the rebels, and give me, in addition, two collectors and 
 six armed soldiers." 
 
 " I will give you my small body-guard. They are eight in 
 number, and I give you full authority to collect the tax." 
 
 " I thank you, governor," cried Mohammed, with a beam- 
 ing face. " You have given me a weighty commission, and 
 you shall see that I will justify the confidence you place in 
 me. I will go at once."
 
 THE REVOLT. 99 
 
 " Do so, and I will order my men to obey you in all 
 things," said the tschorbadji. 
 
 u Farewell, my Osman," cried Mohammed his whole being 
 as full of energy and determination as if he were going to 
 battle. He bowed smilingly to his friend, and passed from 
 the hall with a firm step. 
 
 The collectors received the tschorbadji's order, to return to 
 Praousta with Mohammed, with bowed heads and anxious 
 countenances. 
 
 " They will murder us ! " groaned one of them. " They 
 are all armed with swords and knives, and they will tear our 
 arms from us at once." 
 
 " If they should tear your arms from you, and you do not 
 fall upon them, with tooth and nail," cried Mohammed, with 
 determined look, " you are nothing but cowards, and I will 
 kill you with my own hand ! " 
 
 The tschorbadji had, in the mean time, called his small 
 body-guard together, and commanded them to go down to 
 Praousta with Mohammed, and to obey him in all things. 
 
 " Come, then, my men, let us go," cried Mohammed. 
 
 The tschorbadji detained him a moment. " Will you not 
 take a weapon you are entirely unarmed ? " 
 
 "Yes, I will take a weapon. Not that I fear for myself ; 
 no, I have no fear ; but I will make one more combatant 
 against the rebels. Give me a sword and a pistol." 
 
 The tschorbadji himself brought both to him, and then 
 bade him farewell. 
 
 Mohammed, at the head of the eight soldiers and the two 
 collectors, went down the mountain-path to the village. 
 
 There every thing had become quiet. Obeying the words 
 of the sheik, the men had gone to their huts, and did not see 
 that Mohammed and his followers had entered the great 
 mosque, which stood at the entrance of the village. Then Mo- 
 hammed bowed down within the holy of holies, and, turning 
 his head toward Mecca, prayed in a low voice to the prophet : 
 " Thou seest, my lord and God, that 1 have raised my foot to 
 take the first step on the way to my great future. Uphold my 
 feet let me not fall into the abyss of forgetful ness. Give me 
 strength, that I may go forward without fainting. Be with
 
 100 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 me, Mohammed, thou great prophet. Permit thy stars to he a 
 light unto me, and be merciful to the poorest of thy servants ! " 
 
 Then, raising himself proudly up, he ordered the soldiers 
 to close three of the entrances of the mosque, and to leave only 
 the principal door open. 
 
 " Now draw your swords. Four of you remain with me in 
 the mosque the four others go down to the sheik and the 
 ulemas. Inform them that an ambassador has come from the 
 tschorbadji, to bring them an important message. Each of 
 you three must bring one of the ulemas with you, and the 
 fourth must bring the sheik here to me. Go at once, and re- 
 turn quickly. And you," he said, turning to the four who re- 
 mained behind, " swear to me, in the name of Allah and the 
 prophet, that you will be hewn in pieces sooner than yield to 
 the rebels ! " 
 
 They all swore, placing their hands upon their swords, that 
 they would be hewn in pieces sooner than yield. Mohammed 
 nodded graciously to them. 
 
 l< Good ! When the soldiers bring the men we will sur- 
 round them, and the rest will follow." 
 
 Their hands upon their swords, the soldiers stood waiting 
 beside the door. 
 
 Mohammed remained silent and thoughtful in the middle 
 of the mosque. He felt that a great, an important moment 
 had come for him. He thought of his mother. '' She hovers 
 over me ; she looks down, and sees her son enter on a new 
 life. When I leave the mosque, I will be no longer the poor, 
 despised boy ; I will have proved myself a man. O my 
 mother, look down on me, and pray to Allah to be merciful 
 to me 1 " 
 
 A dark shadow crossed the rays of the sun which fell 
 through the open door. It was one of the soldiers who came 
 in with the sheik. 
 
 Mohammed did not step forward to meet him, as he should 
 have done, out of respect for the old man, with his white 
 beard. To-day he was no longer the poor boy, who must bow 
 down before his superiors. He was himself one of the powers 
 that be. He held his head aloft while the sheik approached. 
 
 " I was summoned in the name of the tschorbadji,'' said the
 
 THE REVOLT. 
 
 sheik, looking with astonishment at Mohammed. " It is very 
 strange that I find here no one hut Mohammed Ali, the son of 
 Ibrahim Aga. Had I known that the tschorbadji had sent a 
 boy to me, I would have required him to bring me the mes- 
 sage." 
 
 " I summoned you in the name of the tschorbadji, and in 
 his name I stand here ! " said Mohammed, proudly. " I am 
 not a boy, as you are pleased to call me, but an acknowledged 
 authority. I have received my authority from the tschorbadji, 
 and I demand submission from you ! " 
 
 " Submission to you ! " exclaimed the sheik, with a con- 
 temptuous glance. 
 
 Mohammed's eyes flashed fiercely, as he placed his hand 
 threateningly on his pistol. 
 
 '' Yes, you the sheik, must yield to me. See ! there are the 
 others who dared to revolt. Guard the sheik well, you men ; 
 the ulemas also ! " 
 
 The latter had now approached, accompanied by the sol- 
 diers, and Mohammed informed them that he, in the name of 
 the tschorbadji, insisted upon their gathering in the taxes. 
 
 " We cannot and will not do it ! " answered the sheik, 
 proudly. " It is an injustice to demand the double tax, and it 
 would be folly to pay it. It is our duty to protect the com- 
 munity, and we will do it ! " 
 
 " Well, do as you will ! " cried Mohammed, with flashing 
 eyes. " Who dares to preach rebellion shall surely die ! 
 Hold fast these rebels, my men, bind their hands behind their 
 backs with their own scarfs, and lead them to the governor's 
 house. There let their heads fall, that all may know how 
 justice punishes the rebellious." 
 
 " Help ! help ! " cried the sheik and the ulemas. " Help ! " 
 
 Their cries resounded far and wide, and, while the soldiers 
 were binding the ulemas and the sheik with their own scarfs, 
 the armed people came pressing forward to the open door of 
 the mosque. 
 
 Mohammed looked toward them with the raging glance of 
 a lion. 
 
 " Who enters here, meets his death ! " he cried, in a voice 
 of thunder. The men without shrunk back before the soldiers'
 
 102 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 gleaming weapons, and hastened to the other doors, but they 
 found them all closed, only the one entrance was open, the one 
 at which the collectors stood. 
 
 Within lay the sheik and the ulemas, all bound, upon their 
 knees, praying the men of Praousta to come to their help. 
 The men sought once more to storm the entrance, and once 
 more they were repulsed. 
 
 " I swear, by Allah and the prophet, that the rebels shall 
 die if they do not submit ! " cried Mohammed, aloud. " Place 
 your daggers at their breasts." 
 
 The soldiers did as they were ordered, and their prisoners 
 lay, with widely-extended eyes, and shrieks on their parted 
 lips which they dared not utter, for fear the sword-points 
 would pierce their breasts. Mohammed stood erect beside 
 them, his hand on his sword. 
 
 Suddenly a piercing, terrific cry arose from the midst of 
 the crowd, and a slender female figure, clad entirely in white, 
 the face concealed by a veil, rushed into the mosque. The 
 soldiers dared not repulse her as they had done the men, as she 
 flew past them toward that dreadful group. 
 
 " My father, my father ! " she cries, in wildly-imploring 
 tones. " If you must die, I will die with you ! " 
 
 A strange tremor seizes on Mohammed ; that wonderful 
 voice thrills him to his very heart. 
 
 The veiled one sinks down at his feet, and raises her arms 
 pleadingly to him. 
 
 " If you kill him, kill me also ! " 
 
 In her passionate gestures she seizes her veil with her 
 clasped hands and tears it from her face. 
 
 Mohammed saw now for the first time the youthful and 
 beautiful face of the fair girl who was called the " Flower of 
 Praousta." Her great black eyes were fastened imploringly 
 on his. Her scarlet lips quivered as she repeated, " Oh, kill him 
 not, but, if you must, then let me die with him ! " 
 
 He looked at her as if he felt some witchcraft at work, then 
 suddenly bent down and drew the veil over her face, as if he 
 dared no longer look on her beauty. 
 
 " Leave this place, I do not fight with women," he said, and 
 his voice sounded almost like that of a man.
 
 THE REVOLT. 103 
 
 " Be merciful," she prayed, but there was a change in her 
 voice also, it was no longer so humble, but trembled with in- 
 ward emotion. 
 
 He turned from her. 
 
 "Return to your home," he said, in a commanding voice. 
 " First, however, tell your father that he must submit himself, 
 and prevail upon these rebels to become obedient. If he suc- 
 ceeds, I swear, in the name of Allah, that he shall return with 
 you to his home. Speak to him, and prove the power of your 
 words." 
 
 "Return, Masa," said the sheik, in an unfaltering voice. 
 '* It was most improper for you to come here. You did it from 
 love to me, therefore it must be pardoned. Now, however, I 
 order you to go home, and remain there, as it becomes a wom- 
 an. I, however, praise Allah ; he alone must decide my 
 fate, and the fate of all." 
 
 " No, father, I cannot leave you," cried Masa, breathlessly, 
 pressing her father's hands to her lips. " Remember, you are 
 the lord of my life, the light of my eyes ! Remember that I 
 have no one but you in all the world, and that your Masa is 
 as solitary as in a wilderness when you are not beside her. 
 Remember that, O my father ! " 
 
 " Enough ! " interrupted Mohammed, in a harsh voice. 
 " Enough words. You there, you men of Praousta, will 
 you pay the tax, the double tax, as the tschorbadji has or- 
 dered ? " 
 
 The men, who had pressed close against the high porch out- 
 side the mosque, remained silent for a moment and looked 
 hesitatingly before them. 
 
 " Will you pay it ? " repeated Mohammed. " You will, I 
 am sure." 
 
 " No ! " cried the sheik, aloud. "You will not, you shall 
 not, pay this tax ! " 
 
 " No," repeated the three ulemas. " No, you will not, you 
 shall not, pay this tax ! " 
 
 Then suddenly, as if inspired by the bold words of the four 
 prisoners, the men held themselves more erect, and, looking 
 threateningly at Mohammed and at the soldiers, repeated what 
 the ulemas had said. " No, we will not, we will not pay the
 
 104 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 tschorbadji the double tax ! We will pay neither the double 
 nor the simple tax ! " 
 
 " Good ! you have spoken," said Mohammed. " Your fate 
 is decided, and that of these men also ! Collectors, lock the 
 door." 
 
 Masa uttered a cry, and, rushing to Mohammed, clung 
 wildly to his knees. 
 
 " Mercy, lord, have mercy ! Think of your own father, 
 think of your mother ! If you have a mother that you love, 
 oh, think of her ! " 
 
 He pushed her roughly and hastily from him. That word 
 pierced his heart like a knife, and still he dared not listen 
 to it. 
 
 There was a threatening murmur among the men, and 
 several sought to press forward, but the collectors threat- 
 ened them with instant death if they came forward a single 
 step. 
 
 Two of the soldiers approached the young girl to carry her 
 out. 
 
 " Let no one dare touch me, or I will throw myself on your 
 swords ! " she cried. " If I must go, I will do so. But on you 
 be the blood of my father if it is shed ! I tell you, if you 
 murder him, I will die also ; and if you have a father or a 
 mother in heaven, I will accuse you, young man ! " 
 
 She uttered these words in a ringing voice, then flew to- 
 ward the door. The soldiers pushed her out, and the collectors 
 threw the iron-bound doors together. 
 
 " Now I turn to you," said Mohammed, breathing more 
 freely, and looking toward the sheik and the ulemas. 
 
 " Will you murder us ? " asked the sheik Alepp, as he 
 looked with calm dignity at the young man. 
 
 "No, if your blood must flow, so be it upon your own 
 head," answered Mohammed, earnestly. You alone shall de- 
 cide your own life or death, and that of your three com- 
 panions. Come, soldiers, open this door ; we go out this 
 way." 
 
 The soldiers obeyed, and opened the door on that side of 
 the mosque which lay nearest the mountain stairway. 
 
 The sheik and the ulemas, soldiers accompanying them,
 
 THE REVOLT. 105 
 
 passed out, Mohammed in front of them, his drawn sword in 
 his hand. Behind them came the collectors, with pikes in 
 their hands. 
 
 Silently they went on their way toward the mountain-path. 
 
 The men who had waited, uncertain what to do, before the 
 door of the mosque, now went round to the side, and with out- 
 cries of rage pointed out to one another the road to the moun- 
 tain-path. 
 
 When Mohammed heard this outcry, he stood still, and 
 motioned to the soldiers to go forward with the prisoners. 
 " Remain at my side, collectors, we will cover the rear. For- 
 ward, now ! go up the mountain." 
 
 And while those went upward, Mohammed remained at the 
 foot of the mountain. On either side the collectors, and in 
 front of him all the fishermen of Praousta, more than fifty 
 men, with threatening looks and burning eyes. But still, al- 
 though they muttered and quarrelled, and even raised their 
 fists, they dared not approach this young man, whose counte- 
 nance was so determined, so full of energy, whose cheeks were 
 so pale, and on whose mouth rested so threatening an expres- 
 sion. He must have appeared to them like the angel of death, 
 and each one feared that if he approached he would sink down 
 and die. 
 
 Mohammed paid no attention to the threatening group of 
 men. His eye looked beyond them there, behind the men, 
 where the veiled white figure stood, supported by two women. 
 
 He looked toward her, and the ringing tones of the young 
 girl's voice sounded in his heart, and he seemed to hear the 
 words : " If you have a mother you love, then think of her ! " 
 
 He thought of her, and a deep sigh escaped his soul. But, 
 still, he must be a man now. He had sworn to bring the reb- 
 els of Praousta back to obedience. He must keep his word, 
 and he will do it. " If she has swooned away, she will awake 
 and forget her grief. Women are readily grieved, but their 
 grief is easily dissipated. She will know how to console her- 
 self ; and as for me, I will forget her, I will never give her 
 another thought." 
 
 He said this defiantly to himself, and looked again at the 
 men of Praousta, who were still standing irresolute and mur- 
 8
 
 106 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 muring near the mosque, not daring to approach the three 
 armed men. " He certainly would not have come alone, he 
 would not dare to remain standing there, if his comrades were 
 not concealed somewhere up there in the mountain." 
 
 " Yes, they are standing there listening, and, if we should 
 charge upon them, they would fire at us, and we should all be 
 lost. No, we will be cautious ; but this is certain, we will not 
 pay the tax ; the sheik has commanded it, and the ulemas have 
 decided ; therefore we will not pay." 
 
 " No, we will not pay, " repeated all the other men. No 
 longer loud and defiant, but in low voices one to another, and 
 their eyes turned suspiciously toward the three figures, and 
 then up the mountain-path, toward the rocks behind which 
 they believed the sharp-shooters were concealed. 
 
 Mohammed looked also toward the mountain-path, and, 
 seeing that the prisoners and their guard had reached the top 
 of the mountain, he turned toward the fishermen : 
 
 " Ismail, Marut, Berutti," he cried, " do you not recognize 
 me, you know Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim ? " 
 
 " Yes, we know you, and we would not have believed that 
 the son of Ibrahim Aga could have become a spy upon his old 
 friends." 
 
 " I am not a spy, I am only a servant of that law and jus- 
 tice which you wish to violate. Step nearer, and listen to 
 what I have to say to you." 
 
 They came cautiously, hesitatingly, a few steps nearer, and 
 again looked anxiously toward the mountain. 
 
 " What have you to say, Mohammed, son of Ibrahim Aga ? 
 but remember that one who" 
 
 " Silence ! " commanded Mohammed ; " I shall remember 
 what is necessary, and 1 do not need the advice of rebels and 
 rioters. I did not call upon you to speak, but to listen to what 
 I have to say. Hearken, men of Praousta, in the name of the 
 tschorbadji ! I give you until early to-morrow morning to de- 
 cide ; if, at the hour of second prayers, you have not sent three 
 men to the palace of the tschorbadji, double the amount that 
 you have formerly paid, the sheik and the three ulemas will 
 lose their heads for your disobedience, and you will be the 
 murderers of four of the first men of Praousta."
 
 THE REVOLT. 107 
 
 He slightly lowered his gleaming sword, and, as a farewell 
 greeting, turned and walked up the mountain-path, not swiftly, 
 not hastily, as if he feared the men would fall upon him, but 
 slowly, step by step, not even glancing back to see if the crowd 
 were following him, quietly, sword in hand, and in front of 
 him the two collectors.
 
 BOOK II. 
 PARADISE AND HELL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE FLOWER OF PRAOUSTA. 
 
 THE tschorbadji was in great uneasiness since Mohammed.' 1 
 liad gone on his expedition to the rebellious village, and his 
 son was profoundly troubled and apprehensive. He could not 
 endure to remain in the broad hall which led to the garden, 
 but followed his father to the great saloon which commanded 
 a view of the court-yard through which Mohammed must 
 come. He laid himself upon the divan, while his father 
 walked up and down with heavy steps, pausing occasionally 
 at the window looking into the court yard, and then rapidly 
 continuing his walk. Suddenly the door opened, and two 
 slaves appeared in magnificent Grecian costume, richly em- 
 broidered, and placed themselves at the open door. Then a 
 third stepped forth, and announced in a loud voice, " His ex- 
 cellency Cousrouf Pacha ! " His excellency entered, splen- 
 didly dressed, in a long velvet mantle, trimmed with rare fur, 
 in his turban a star of the most brilliant diamonds flashed, 
 and in the Persian shawl folded around his waist glittered a 
 dagger, studded with costly gems. 
 
 It was a splendid sight the tall, proud man as he stood in 
 the widely-opened door ; the richly-dressed slaves at his side, 
 and behind him his secretary, in white, gold-embroidered robe, 
 holding the staff aloft. 
 
 The tschorbadji stepped toward him with a respectful air 
 and a forced smile. Osman arose slowly from the divan, and 
 bowed profoundly before his excellency. 
 
 The sharp glance of the pacha read at once, in the face of 
 
 (108)
 
 THE FLOWER OF PRAOUSTA. 109 
 
 father and son, that he was unwelcome, and told them so in a 
 soft, friendly voice. The tschorbadji protested, in flowery 
 words and flattering terms, which he knew would please 
 Cousrouf Pacha, that he was unutterably happy, inexpressibly 
 flattered and delighted, at the presence of his excellency. 
 
 Cousrouf Pacha replied with a gracious inclination of his 
 stately head, and appeared to find it perfectly natural that 
 every one should feel delighted when his excellency ap- 
 proached. 
 
 " Tell me, tschorbadji," he said, taking the place of honor 
 on the divan, and motioning the slave to bring him his gold- 
 and-diamond-studded chibouque " tell me, tschorbadji, is it 
 true that the village of Praousta is in revolt ? *' 
 
 " Unfortunately, your excellency, it is true," sighed the 
 tschorbadji ; *' the men have revolted, they will not pay the 
 double tax." 
 
 " Dogs ! dogs ! that are barking a little," said Cousrouf, 
 with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. " I think, tschor- 
 badji, you would do well to quiet them quickly." 
 
 " I hope my messenger will succeed in repressing the revolt, 
 in quieting the men, and in inducing them to do their duty." 
 
 " What ! " exclaimed Cousrouf, with a contemptuous curl 
 of his lip, " you intend to make terms with the rebels ? " 
 
 " I shall try to induce the men to do their duty." 
 
 " You surely do not consider that rebels are criminals most 
 deserving of death," said Cousrouf, with flashing eyes. 
 " Dogs are shot when they are mad, and rebels are but mad 
 dogs." 
 
 '' I beg your pardon, excellency," said the tschorbadji, his 
 gentle face assuming a severer expression than it had yet worn 
 before his excellency " I beg your pardon, but this small is- 
 land is not so rich in men that we can afford to shoot them 
 like dogs, and, moreover, excepting this, the people are good, 
 industrious, and willing to provide for their families. This 
 year they have had a bad harvest, and but little profit, and 
 were incensed at having to pay double taxes." 
 
 " And why double taxes ? " asked Cousrouf Pacha, with a 
 contemptuous smile. 
 
 " Do not ask me, excellency," replied the tschorbadji, witb
 
 HO MOIIAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 a bow ; " one portion of the taxes goes as usual to Stamboul, 
 into the coffers of his highness ; the other portion " 
 
 *' Ah, I understand," said Cousrouf, with a proud smile ; 
 " the other portion is, through an order from Stamboul, des- 
 tined for me. That is so, is it not, tschorbadji ? " 
 
 "Yes, excellency, if you wish to know the truth, it is." 
 
 " And these dogs refuse to pay for the benefit of Cousrouf 
 Pacha, the grand-vizier of his highness, the friend and com- 
 rade of the Admiral Hussein, and you will not shoot them down 
 like mad dogs, tschorbadji ; you wish to negotiate with these 
 audacious men, who mock at my greatness in refusing me the 
 tribute ! These slaves believe that, because Cousrouf Pacha 
 condescends to live in this desolate place this miserable nest 
 they can mock and deny me their respect with impunity. 
 But I tell you, tschorbadji, I tell you, and all the men of Pra- 
 ousta and Cavalla, you shall remember this day ! If these 
 men do not submit, if they do not pay what they ought to pay, 
 then you may all beware, for a day will come, and, by Allah, 
 it is not far off, when Cousrouf Pacha will leave his exile with 
 new honors ! Remember this, tschorbadji, and act accord- 
 ingly." 
 
 " I shall remember it, excellency," said the tschorbadji, re- 
 spectfully ; " I have never failed in reverence and respect to the 
 noble guest whom his highness graciously sent here ; I accept- 
 ed it as a favor, and during my entire life I shall remember 
 the days that it pleased Cousrouf Pacha to become a guest in 
 my house." 
 
 The words of the tschorbadji, humbly and respectfully 
 as they were spoken, rankled in the sensitive soul of the proud 
 pacha. He started, and his brow darkened. He had partaken 
 of the tschorbadji's hospitality, and had never thanked him 
 for it, and never returned it. The tax that the men of Pra- 
 ousta were commanded to pay, was by an order from Stamboul, 
 destined for Cousrouf Pacha, and this was a sign to the proud 
 man that his sun was in the ascendant, that he would soon be 
 released from his exile, and therefore he was defiant and 
 haughty toward the tschorbadji. 
 
 At the angry words of the pacha, Osman, the usually mild 
 and gentle youth, arose from the divan, and placed himself at
 
 THE FLOWER OF PRAOUSTA. HI 
 
 his father's side, as if he wished to defend the tschorbadji from 
 the proud and mocking words of the stranger. 
 
 The father felt and understood what was passing in the 
 youth's soul ; he laid his hand softly upon his shoulder. 
 " Calm yourself, my son ; may the rights of a guest be as sa- 
 cred to you as to me his excellency has been our esteemed 
 guest for three years, remember this, and forget that he was a 
 little hard just now. Allah be with him ! Allah make all 
 our hearts tender and gentle I " 
 
 " You must remember, pacha, that here, in our small por- 
 tion of the great world, we cannot make so great and magnifi- 
 cent a display as you can make in your brilliant career in the 
 great city of Stamboul. We have no soldiers here except my 
 small body-guard of eight men ; the rest of our small military 
 force is now stationed elsewhere. It would be very unfortu- 
 nate if I should incite to violence the men who, even if armed 
 with knives only, would still be able to overpower us all. It 
 will therefore be better to negotiate with them than to proceed 
 to extreme measures." 
 
 " Well, what course have you decided upon ? " asked Cous- 
 rouf, in a milder tone. 
 
 "Mohammed Ali, the friend of my son, Osman, has 
 pledged himself to bring the rebels to reason ; I have given 
 him my body-guard of eight men, and he has gone down to 
 Praousta." 
 
 "Gone to this seditious village, where more than fifty 
 strong men are in revolt ! " exclaimed Cousrouf . " Truly such 
 daring reflects honor upon the young lad." 
 
 "Upon what young lad?" asked Osman, in seeming 
 surprise ;" of whom does your excellency speak ? " 
 
 ' Of the young lad your father spoke of ; he who volun- 
 teered to settle this difficulty. Is he your slave, or your f reed- 
 man, of whom you make a companion because unfortunately 
 you can find here no better social intercourse ? " 
 
 " He is my friend," said Osman, in a calm, firm voice, " my 
 best friend, and I trust that all who honor my father's house 
 with their visits will observe a proper respect to the friend of 
 his son. I expect this, and, if need be, will require it, for" 
 
 "Here comes Mohammed!" cried the governor, rejoicing
 
 112 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 at any occurrence which interrupted his son's speech. " Here 
 conies Mohammed, and with him four prisoners. By Allah ! 
 it is the sheik and the three ulemas of Praousta ! The soldiers 
 are conducting them ; their hands are bound behind their 
 backs. Mohammed is a bold fellow ; he has made prisoners 
 of four of the richest and most influential men of the village, 
 and is bringing them here. I must speak with him." The 
 governor arose hastily, but Cousrouf Pacha seized his arm and 
 held him back forcibly. " Tschorbadji, it becomes your am- 
 bassador to seek you and give an account of his mission. I 
 myself will hear him." Still holding the tschorbadji's arm, 
 he stepped to the divan, seated himself, and drew the governor 
 down beside him. And now the door was opened, and Mo- 
 hammed, with glowing cheeks and ardent eyes, holding his 
 sword aloft, entered the room. He advanced rapidly across 
 the spacious saloon to the tschorbadji, lowered his sword be- 
 fore him, and bestowed a kindly glance on his friend Osman, 
 who came forward to greet him. With a few hasty words he 
 explained to the tschorbadji the events which had taken 
 place ; only when he spoke of the young girl did his voice fal- 
 ter, but he made slight mention of her, and passed on to nar- 
 rate the conclusion of his bold adventure. 
 
 " So you have really made prisoners of four of the first men 
 of Praousta and brought them here ! " said the tschorbadji, 
 completely taken by surprise. " Tell me what shall be done 
 with them ? It surely cannot be your intention to put these 
 men to death if the tax is not paid ? " 
 
 " Most certainly, sir, that is my intention," said Mohammed, 
 throwing back his head proudly. " They are all rebels, and 
 the ulemas and the sheik were their leaders these, sir, were 
 the men who counselled the people not to pay the taxes. It 
 is according to law that the heads of the leaders of a rebellion 
 should fall, and fall their heads shall, for I have sworn it ; if 
 three men are not sent to-morrow morning from Praousta, at 
 the hour of prayer, with the double tax, the heads of the 
 prisoners shall answer for its payment ! " 
 
 " But this is impossible," said the tschorbadji, whose tender 
 heart was moved by Mohammed's threatening words. " This 
 is impossible ; I cannot allow these men to be executed."
 
 THE FLOWER OF PRAOUSTA. 
 
 " I have sworn it shall be done, and it must be done, unless 
 you wish to see your authority overthrown." 
 
 " But how can it be done ? " exclaimed the tschorbad ji, pale 
 with anxiety and horror. " Who will put these men to death ? 
 I have no executioner." 
 
 " If necessary," said Mohammed, his eyes flashing with re- 
 solve " If necessary, I will behead them myself." 
 
 " Bravely said ! " cried Cousrouf Pacha, rising from his 
 seat. " Truly, Mohammed Ali, I begin to be pleased with 
 you." 
 
 *' That, sir, is more than I desire," said Mohammed, calmly ; 
 he gave one threatening glance at the proud pacha, and then 
 turned quickly to the tschorbadji. 
 
 " Remember, sir, that you gave me absolute authority to 
 act as I thought best. I gave you my word of honor to bring 
 back these rebels to reason and obedience. In return, you 
 promised that I alone should decide the matter. It must 
 therefore be so. I have sworn to the men of Praousta that, 
 unless they submit, the heads of the sheik and the three ulemas 
 shall fall ; and I repeat, so must it be, even if they fall by my 
 hand, if to-morrow, at the hour of prayer, the gold is not pro- 
 duced." 
 
 " Then may Allah mercifully bring the rebels to repent- 
 ance ! " sighed the tschorbadji. " May they submit to your 
 decision, and bring the gold at the appointed tune. Until 
 then we must put the prisoners in some place of safety. Give 
 orders, Mohammed, that they be taken to the prison, and care- 
 fully guarded." 
 
 " And why to the prison, sir ? " asked Mohammed, quietly. 
 " Here in the middle of the court-yard is a space encircled 
 with an iron railing." 
 
 " So there is," replied the tschorbadji, " it was prepared as 
 a cage for my beautiful lion, and he had lived within that rail- 
 ing for four years, when some miserable wretch, who knew I 
 loved the noble animal, poisoned it." 
 
 " Well, I think the cage your lion occupied is large enough 
 to afford lodging for one night to the sheik and the ule- 
 mas." 
 
 " What ! confine them here in the open air ?"
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Yes, sir, that is what I suggest. " Cannot the iron door 
 be locked ? " 
 
 " Yes,' it can be locked ; the key is in the palace." 
 
 " In this way we can spare your body-guard a weary 
 watch," said Mohammed. *' I will conduct them to their 
 prison. It seems to me best that the prisoners be placed where 
 all the world can see them ; all the passers-by can here look 
 upon these men and take warning how the tschorbadji pun- 
 ishes rebels and rebellions. I alone will keep watch over 
 these prisoners, and explain to all who pass why they are 
 here ; they will then go down to Praousta, and announce that 
 the block is prepared upon which the heads of these men will 
 fall early on the morrow, unless the taxes are paid." 
 
 Mohammed, you are terrible ! " murmured Osman, as he 
 gazed with amazement and anxiety into the eyes of his friend. 
 
 " You are right," whispered Cousrouf Pacha, aside ; " this 
 is a bold, brave youth, and something can be made of him. 
 He is ambitious and daring. The time may come when he 
 would be of use ; I will try to win him over to my interests." 
 
 Mohammed heard nothing more ; he had already gone to 
 the court-yard and opened the door of the cage. He now or- 
 dered the soldiers to conduct the prisoners inside the en- 
 closure. 
 
 Calmly and silently they entered. Not one word had been 
 uttered by them since they left Praousta ; with heads erect, 
 and with proud bearing, they entered their prison. 
 
 u Force conquers even the philosopher. He who feels him- 
 self in the right is silent, and utters no complaint," so ex- 
 claimed the sheik in a loud voice, as he was thrust inside the 
 enclosure by the soldiers. The ulemas bowed their heads and 
 followed him. " Allah be praised, and may the prophet look 
 down in mercy upon the most insignificant of his creatures ! " 
 
 The door of their prison closed behind them ; Mohammed 
 took the key and concealed it about his person. " Now," said 
 he, " pray and meditate upon your crimes and their punish- 
 ment. I will myself make known to the men of Praousta that 
 they may find you here, and all who wish can come to see you. 
 It rests with you to tell the people that they must submit to 
 the law, or else bring your heads to the. block. Think well of
 
 MASA. 
 
 this, and rest assured the tschorbadji will confirm what he has 
 declared thi'ough me. To-morrow, at the hour of prayer, 
 must the double tax be paid by the men of Praousta, or your 
 heads shall be placed on the cliffs where everybody can see 
 them, and your bodies thrown upon the rock Bucephalus, that 
 the vultures and ravens may feed upon them." 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MASA. 
 
 THE sea lay like a sleeping lion reposing after a conflict, 
 and curled its waves dreamily upon the mountain-rock Buceph- 
 alus. The sun was burning hot, and no breath of air cooled 
 the atmosphere, and not one cloud or shadow afforded protec- 
 tion from the glowing rays of the sun, which fell full upon the 
 uncovered space within which the sheik and the ulemas had 
 been confined since early in the morning. But they stood 
 firm, and no complaint escaped their lips. With their heads 
 turned to the east, they knelt and prayed, their whole bearing 
 expressing dignity and high resolve. 
 
 At the command of Mohammed, one of the governor's col- 
 lectors was sent to Praousta. He was instructed to place him- 
 self in front of the mosque, call the people together by the 
 sound of the tomtom, and announce to them, in the name of 
 the tschorbadji, that all who would see the victims of their re- 
 bellion should come up the mountain, but without arms, and 
 only three at a time. They should be allowed to enter the 
 court-yard of the palace, where they could see that the prison- 
 ers were still alive, and that their lives and liberty rested 
 solely with the men of Praousta. In conformity with this 
 proclamation, the men of the village came up to the palace in 
 threes. 
 
 Above, upon the rock, knelt a young girl, closely veiled. 
 The men of Praousta knew well that this was Masa, the sheik's 
 daughter. They bowed low before her, and greeted her with 
 the greeting of peace. She raised her trembling hands toward
 
 116 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 them, exclaiming : " Have pity on my unhappy father ! Sub- 
 mit to the law ! Yield to necessity ! O save my father, and 
 do not make me an orphan ! " 
 
 The men of Praousta made no reply ; they bowed their 
 heads silently, and passed on, with clouded countenances, to 
 the iron cage in which the governor's lion had once been con- 
 fined, and where now stood the sheik and the ulemas, thus 
 made wild beasts of ; they, the best and wisest men of Pra- 
 ousta, the representatives of the people, made a public spec- 
 tacle ! 
 
 The sheik and the ulemas beckoned to each man who 
 passed, and besought him to hold fast to his resolution not to 
 pay the new tax. / " If you yield now, and pay twofold, soon 
 they will demand threefold ; they wish to impoverish us and 
 exact our heart's blood, but we will not submit, and we com- 
 mand you to stand firm ! " 
 
 " But you, O fathers of our community, what will be your 
 fate?" 
 
 " That Allah has determined," replied one of the ulemas. 
 " Not a bird falls to the ground, not a worm is crushed, by the 
 careless foot of man, without his knowledge. He who pro- 
 tects the spiders in the trees and in the corners of the rooms, 
 the birds of the air, and the monsters of the deep, will also 
 care for us. Allah be praised ! " 
 
 " Allah be praised ! " echoed the men, as they turned their 
 steps toward Praousta. 
 
 The maiden still knelt upon the rocky stairway and raised 
 her hands in wild entreaty to the passers-by. " Yield, yield, I 
 implore you ! Do not deliver over your wisest and best men 
 to a bloody death ! " 
 
 Mohammed stood in the hall, behind a pillar, listening 
 earnestly to the words spoken by the prisoners to the men of 
 the village. From time to time Osman joined him, and 
 begged him not to act the part of guard over the prisoners, but 
 to come into the saloon and rest upon the divan. "They 
 can not escape ; the railing is high, and the gate securely 
 locked. Come, grant me the pleasure of your company, 
 and let me seek to soften your heart, and incline you to 
 mercy."
 
 MAS A. 
 
 " Impossible," said Mohammed, sternly. '* If we yield now, 
 the tschorbadji's authority is forever lost." 
 
 u But," said the tschorbadji, who joined them at that mo- 
 ment, "what is to come of all this, if the prisoners do not 
 submit ? " 
 
 u Their heads shall fall upon the block to-morrow morning, 
 at the hour of prayer," said Mohammed, in so firm and clear 
 a voice that his words were heard by Cousrouf Pacha, who 
 had just entered the hall. 
 
 " He is right, tschorbadji," said he, bowing his head with 
 great dignity. '* Yes, he is right ! If the rabble are rebellious, 
 let the heads of some of them fall ! Order and law must 
 reign ! Many -headed is the hydra, and it is no great misfor- 
 tune if a few of their brawling heads are hewn off ! " 
 
 " Allah is great ! His will be done," said the tschorbadji. 
 *' I do not wish the court-yard of my dwelling to be stained 
 with blood. I do not wish to rule harshly and unmercifully 
 in the evening of my life, after governing my people so many 
 years by mild and gentle rule." 
 
 " There you are wrong." said Cousrouf Pacha ; " mildness 
 and gentleness do not become a ruler ; only by severity and an 
 unbending will can he exalt himself to power, and, even when 
 he reaches the goal, he must trust to arms, if he is to maintain 
 himself." 
 
 " And if with sword and dagger he reaches the throne," 
 said Osman, looking gently and reproachfully at the proud 
 pacha, " may he then hope to hear music and hymns of praise, 
 or must he not then only expect to hear cries of anguish uttered 
 by those over whose heads he strode to power ? He could not 
 then expect to see a fair and blooming land, but a land full of 
 corpses and blood ! No, no, Cousrouf Pacha ! I desire not to 
 reach that height. I will rather dwell in the valleys in the 
 shadow of the cliffs on the sea shore and gather shells, and 
 revel in the gladness and delight of a modest and quiet ex- 
 istence." 
 
 " And you, Mohammed," said the pacha, smiling scornfully, 
 u what is your ambition ? Will you gather shells upon the 
 sea-shore with Osman, or will you climb the heights with me 
 to a splendid goal ? "
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Mohammed turned his eyes entirely away from the pacha, 
 nodded to his friend Osman, and said : " I will tread my own 
 path alone. Where fate will lead me I know not. I seek no 
 companionship, and will follow no man's lead. From time to 
 tune, I may turn aside from my path, and wander, with joy 
 and gladness, with my only friend, on the sea-shore, and seek 
 for shells, and revel in the delights of a modest and quiet life." 
 
 With a kindly glance, Osman extended his hand, as if in a 
 grateful greeting. 
 
 The men of Praousta continued to pass before the iron cage, 
 and the sheik still appealed to them to be firm, and not to sac- 
 rifice their rights. 
 
 Suddenly the sun disappeared, and night came down upon 
 the earth. The prisoners said their evening prayers in a loud 
 voice, and when, from the minarets of Praousta, the call of the 
 muredin rang out on the air, the prisoners commenced singing, 
 firmly and devoutly : u God is great ! There is no God but 
 our God, and Mohammed is his prophet ! Come to prayer ! 
 Come to be healed ! God is just ! There is no God but our 
 God ! " And from the village of Praousta the solemn hymn 
 was echoed back : " God is just ! There is no God but our 
 God ! " Then all was silent, and the night, like a silver veil, 
 wrapped the earth in its folds. 
 
 In the house of the tschorbadji all was still ; it was the 
 custom to retire early and to rise with the sun. God, in His 
 goodness, created the night for repose. The moon is a sacred 
 lantern, which God hangs over a sleeping world, and the stars 
 are the eyes of the guardian angels watching over the helpless 
 sleepers. Therefore, is it well to go to rest with the setting 
 sun. 
 
 Profound silence reigned in Cavalla, in the palace of the 
 governor, and in the village of Praousta the men were at the 
 mosque, praying that Allah would vouchsafe them wisdom 
 for the duties of the coming day. To the slender female 
 kneeling in the mosque they whispered : " Soften your father's 
 heart, maiden, and beseech him to allow us to obey this hard 
 command." 
 
 Did she understand ? Was there comfort or encourage- 
 ment in these words ? She bowed her head still lower, and
 
 MASA. 
 
 sobbed beneath her veil ; she knew too well her father's im- 
 movable will, and that he preferred death to submission. 
 
 The court-yard was quiet. The tschorbadji had offered to 
 place two sentinels before the gate of the enclosure, but Mo- 
 hammed declined the offer. 4k I alone must complete that 
 which I alone began. I pledged you my honor, tschorbadji, 
 that I would subdue this rebellion, and I alone will guard the 
 prisoners. I will trust no man but myself. Who knows but 
 that the men of Praousta may try to storm the enclosure ? 
 They are crafty and deceitful. I know them well, and will 
 myself guard the prisoners." 
 
 " Allow, at least, some of the soldiers to relieve you during 
 the night in this hard service." 
 
 " No service which honor and duty require is hard," said 
 Mohammed, proudly. "Let the soldiers sleep, I will keep 
 watch." 
 
 Osman gave him a long and searching look, as if he would 
 read the purpose of his soul ; and, strange to say, Mohammed 
 turned his face aside to avoid his friend's keen eye. Was it 
 only from a sense of honor and duty that Mohammed under- 
 took the lonely watch ? Or did he hope the clear moonlight 
 would reveal some other beautiful picture than the golden 
 plateau, and the great shadows thrown upon it by the palace ? 
 When night had fully settled down upon the earth, Moham- 
 med crept forward in the shadow of the palace, to a large rock 
 which stood at the entrance of the court-yard ; there he con- 
 cealed himself, and waited. What was he waiting for? 
 From tbat point he could overlook the court-yard, and, by 
 leaning forward, he could also see the stairway in the rock. 
 Why did he turn his head in that direction so often ? Why 
 did he suddenly shrink back, and why did his heart tremble 
 as he saw a white figure, illuminated by the moon, advancing ? 
 Mohammed cowered still lower behind the rock. 
 
 Probably she did not see him, and supposed the moon and 
 the stars only had seen her glide softly throTjgh the gateway, 
 and into the court-yard. 
 
 The veiled virgin now walks through the court-yard to the 
 iron railing ; kneels down upon the mosaic pavement, and, 
 raising her hands, whispers softly :
 
 120 MOIIAMMED ALI AND HIS HOl'SE. 
 
 " Father, my beloved father, do you hear your daughter's 
 voice ? " Mohammed bows his head, and listens in breathless 
 suspense, his heart throbbing wildly. 
 
 " I hear you, my daughter," replied the sheik, in a quiet 
 tone. " I expected you, for I know my Masa's heart well." 
 
 " Masa," murmured Mohammed ; " what a beautiful, glori- 
 ous name ! It falls like music upon my ear, and makes my 
 heart beat strangely. What does this mean ? Allah, protect 
 thy servant ! " 
 
 Against his will, he still listens to this heavenly voice that 
 now entreats her father to yield, to submit to the inevitable. 
 But the sheik, as she continued her supplications, commanded 
 silence, and forbade her to burden his heart with her tears. 
 
 " Life, my daughter, is but a short span ; but eternity is 
 long, and woe to those who have not done their duty during 
 that short period ! They will suffer for it throughout eternity r 
 for Allah is strong in his wrath, and just in his punishment. 
 I have sworn that I will watch over the welfare of my com- 
 munity while I live, and Sheik Alepp will keep his word to 
 the end of his life." 
 
 " But, father, beloved father ! " urged the maiden, " you 
 have also sworn to be a parent and a guardian to me all the 
 days of your life. Keep this oath, too ; save your life, in or- 
 der to save mine. Then you must know, my father, that 
 Masa will not remain on the earth if you leave it. Your child 
 has naught upon this earth but you ; early was my mother 
 taken, and it has become lonely in Sheik Alepp's harem. My 
 father said : ' I will not take in a strange woman : no second 
 wife shall ever fill the place in my heart that has been wholly 
 consecrated to my dear Masa. My only child shall not have 
 to suffer from the severity and caprice of a strange woman.' 
 This was nobly said and nobly done, my father, to devote your 
 entire life to your child, and to the duties of guardian of your 
 people. But hear me, father : what is to become of your 
 daughter when she is left alone upon the earth ? Sorrow and 
 want will be my portion, and I should wither away unseen, 
 and be trodden under foot upon the wayside, without one 
 sympathizing voice to bemoan my early death." 
 
 Mohammed still crouched within the shadow of the cliff,
 
 MASA. 
 
 his eyes sparkling like the stars in heaven, hut the maiden 
 saw them not, nor could she know the exultation in his heart. 
 
 "You should not wither away unseen and unlameated 
 upon the wayside. I would draw you to my bosom, and there 
 you should bloom in fragrance, my heavenly blossom, and 
 my whole life would lament over you if you should leave the 
 earth." 
 
 In the silence of the night the youth still listened to the 
 conversation between father and daughter to the tender en- 
 treaties of the maiden, to the father's stern and earnest words ; 
 he heard also the whispering voices of the ulemas, who, 
 awakened by the conversation, betook themselves to repeating 
 prayers, in order that they might not hear what passed be- 
 tween father and daughter at this solemn moment. 
 
 Now Masa ceased speaking ; a few stifled sobs, a few trem- 
 bling words only, could be distinguished. But the sheik re- 
 mained firm and unyielding. 
 
 " I cannot, Masa. Right gladly would I remain and live 
 with you, and gladden my eyes with your lovely countenance, 
 gladly would I still continue to hear the voice that call to me 
 in the loved tones of my Aga, and is to my ear the sweetest 
 music, but the claims of duty are paramount, and what duty 
 commands man must perform. Allah so wills it. Allah be 
 praised ! The sheik cannot counsel his people to yield to 
 force ; he must.wait patiently in the path of his duty. The 
 result is in Allah's hand, and Allah is great and mighty. Al- 
 lah il Allah!" 
 
 " Allah il Allah ! " repeated the three ulemas. 
 
 Rising from his knees, the sheik now proceeded to give, 
 with a loud voice, the second call, the ebed, for he saw that 
 rosy streaks were beginning to shoot out over the horizon, and 
 he knew that the sun would rise from out the sea in an hour ; 
 it was therefore time to pronounce the ebed. 
 
 " I praise the perfection of God who endures for ever and 
 ever, the perfection of the living, the only and the highest 
 God. The perfection of the God who, in his great kingdom, 
 takes unto himself neither wife, nor an associate, nor one who 
 resembles him, nor one who is disobedient, nor a substitute, 
 nor an equal, nor a descendant his perfection I praise ; and 
 9
 
 322 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 praised be his name ! He is a God who knew what was to be. 
 before it became what it is, and what has been ; and he is as 
 he was in the beginning. His perfection I praise, and praised 
 be his name ; he is a God without equal. There is no one 
 who is equal to the good God ; there is no one who is equal to 
 the great God ; there is no God beside thee, O God, whom we 
 must adore, praise, desire, and glorify ! I praise the perfection 
 of him who has made all creatures, who preserves and pro- 
 vides them with food, and has determined the end of the lives 
 of his servants. O God, the good, the gracious, the great, for- 
 get not one of them." 
 
 The ulemas now arose, and with powerful voices began the 
 following monotonous chant : 
 
 "I praise the perfection of Him who by his power and great- 
 ness causes pure water to flow from the solid rock ; the 
 perfection of Him who spoke to our master, Moses, on the 
 mountain, whereupon the mountain crumbled to dust out of 
 fear of God, whose name be praised as the one and the only 
 one. There is no God but God, and he is a righteous judge. 
 I praise the justice of the first, peace and comfort be with you ; 
 and you of the friendly countenance, O ambassador of God, 
 peace be with you, and with your family and companions. O 
 you prophet ! God is great, and God favors, and preserves, 
 and glorifies the great prophet Mohammed. And may God. 
 whose name be blessed and praised, be pleased with you, O 
 Mohammed, and with all those favored with the wine of God ! 
 Amen ! " * 
 
 " Amen ! Amen ! Amen ! " repeated the ulemas, and the 
 maiden whispered it after them. And, within the shadow of 
 the cliff, Mohammed Ali, who had reverently repeated the 
 ebed in a low voice, murmured Amen. 
 
 *' And now, my daughter," said the sheik, in a loud voice, 
 " I command you to go down to Praousta, and to conceal your- 
 self within the harem of my house, and there to await in pa- 
 tience and submission, as beseems a woman, the events of the 
 morrow, the day of the Lord and of the judgment. Go, my 
 child, and the blessing of Allah be with you ! " 
 
 Mohammed looked forth from behind the cliff, and beheld 
 * See the Koran.
 
 THE FIRST DAY OF CREATION. J23 
 
 the veiled figure bending down and grasping the old man's 
 hand through the bars of the cage ; he then heard the father's 
 parting blessing, and his daughter's low sobs. 
 
 Now she arose, and, bathed in the full lustre of the moon, 
 glided softly through the court-yard. She seemed to him like 
 one of the welis, or spirits blessed of God, as she swept past 
 the cliff behind which Mohammed stood, and passed with in- 
 audible footsteps toward the rocky stairway. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE FIRST DAY OF CREATION. 
 
 NOISELESSLY, her feet scarcely touching the ground, the 
 veiled figure swept onward. The light of the moon enveloped 
 her as with a silver veil, and the stars gazed at her wonder- 
 ingly, as if to follow with their eyes the lovely being who 
 walks on in solitude through the darkness of night. 
 
 She did not fear the solitude, for the welis guarded the in- 
 nocent maiden, and kept from her the evil spirits and ghins. 
 
 The solitude had no terrors for her, but she shrank back 
 with alarm when the moon suddenly cast a long shadow 
 across her pathway. 
 
 The shadow of a man ! She stood still for a moment in a 
 listening attitude. 
 
 " Allah protect me ! " she murmured, as she drew her veil 
 more closely about her and walked on. 
 
 She had almost reached the stairway when the shadow 
 came close to her side, and a hand was laid on her shoulder. 
 
 " Stay, Masa," whispered a voice. 
 
 She trembled and sought to walk on, but her feet seemed 
 chained to the ground. She thought the ghins were detaining 
 her, and she prayed to Allah from her inmost soul to release 
 her from their dread enchantment. 
 
 " Fear me not, Masa," said a kindly voice ; " listen to me. 
 I am no enemy." 
 
 " I do not fear you," said she, in low, faint tones. " I fear
 
 124 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE 
 
 neither man nor the evil ghins, for the welis guard me, and 
 my mother's eyes watch over me. Allah, too, is always with 
 me wherever I go, by night or day. Yet I know that you are 
 my enemy, because you are my father's enemy.'' 
 
 " Oh, do not say this ! Your words pierce my heart.'' 
 
 "But yet you are my enemy, for you are my father's 
 enemy ; I know you, I recognize the fierce youth who took 
 my father prisoner at the mosque this morning. It was you ! 
 I know you well, and my heart is breaking. You are the au- 
 thor of my father's misery. You do evil, and evil thoughts 
 fill your heart. Let me pass, do not detain me ! Let me re- 
 turn to my father's house. Masa must obey her father and 
 master. Remove your hand from my shoulder. It does not 
 beseem a stranger to touch a chaste maiden with his impure 
 hand. Let me pass." 
 
 " You say I am your enemy, your father's enemy. Be- 
 lieve me, Masa, I am not your enemy, not your father's enemy. 
 An evil destiny has ordained that Mohammed Ali should be 
 the instrument, the sword of justice, that he should grieve and 
 wound her he would so gladly shield. The evil ghins have 
 also ordained that I should carry out the law and assume a 
 threatening attitude toward your father. I must submit to 
 what Allah ordains, and proceed in the line of my duty. But, 
 Masa, you shall know that I am neither yours nor your 
 father's enemy. You must know that I would shed my heart's 
 blood to make undone that which I have commenced. O 
 Masa, had I sooner beheld these eyes, that now look upon me 
 with the brilliancy of the stars in heaven, had I sooner beheld 
 the countenance that now beams upon me with the brightness 
 of the young day, never would my mother's son have assumed 
 a threatening attitude toward your father, never would Mo- 
 hammed have undertaken to enforce the law against him. 
 True, the evil ghins have brought this about, but hearken to 
 me, Masa, and consider well that your father's welfare is at 
 stake." 
 
 " I will not hear you," said she, tremblingly. 
 
 " I swear, by the spirit of my mother, that I have nothing 
 to conceal before Allah and the prophet. Do not wound me, 
 Masa, with your alarm. You seemed to me this morning the
 
 THE FIRST DAY OF CREATION. 125 
 
 loveliest of women ; until then SittaKhadra was her son's only 
 love. You must know that when she had died, Mohammed 
 Aii fled into solitude and intended to take his own life. But 
 in the solitude, Allah said to him : ' The life I have given you, 
 bear with manfully, and take upon yourself the sufferings I 
 see fit to visit upon you.' 
 
 " I howed submissively to his commands ; I left my soli- 
 tude and raised myself by my sorrow as by a pillar. But in 
 you I seemed to see my mother's spirit ; then pain vanished 
 from my heart, and my mother seemed to be regarding me 
 through your eyes. Therefore, Masa, have I followed you. I 
 have come to say that which brings the blush to my inmost 
 soul, that which the ear of no other human being shall ever 
 hear. In the name of my mother, I beseech you, do not let it 
 be here upon this open path where men may pass, and which 
 the foot of man has desecrated. In the name of the mother 
 you love so well as you this morning declared in the mosque, 
 and in the name of my mother whom I have loved as few sons 
 have loved their mothers, in the name of the moon, and in the. 
 name of the golden stars that glitter above us, I entreat you, 
 mount with me to the summit of the rock. There will Mo- 
 hammed speak words to you that his tongue has never ut- 
 tered before. There he will advise you how to save your 
 father, and help the men of Praousta." 
 
 She looked up to the crest of the rock, bathed in the soft 
 moonlight. 
 
 " You would lead me up there ?" murmured she. 
 
 '' I will lead you safely, or follow you, as the slave follows 
 his mistress. The way is steep, but your feet are active as 
 those of the gazelle. I now remember having sometimes ob- 
 served your white figure and your flying footstep. Lightly 
 like the dove have I seen you flit from rock to rock, and I 
 have followed you with reverence. Yes, I have long known 
 you ; I have often seen you, and I know that the white dove 
 need only spread her wings to flutter up to the Ear of 
 Bucephalus. O Masa, I entreat you, spread your wings 
 and fly ! There I will speak with you of your father and 
 of the future, of yours and of mine. Will you grant my 
 request ? "
 
 126 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 She did not reply, but only regarded him with an inquir- 
 ing, doubtful look. 
 
 Was it a mere accident, or had he purposely placed hirnselt 
 so that the light of the now waning moon shone full in his 
 face ? Was it by chance that he was so placed that a shadow 
 was thrown over the place where she stood, which enabled her 
 to gaze at him from out the darkness with her large, lumi- 
 nous eyes ? 
 
 " I entreat you, Masa, go not down to your father's house, 
 but ascend with me to the Ear of Bucephalus. There, where 
 none but Allah and Nature can hear my words, I will speak 
 to you of your father, and of the men of the village." 
 
 She drew her veil more closely about her and bowed her 
 head. "Lead the way, Mohammed Ali, and I will follow." 
 
 And he, overwhelmed with happiness, knelt down and 
 tenderly kissed the little foot that peeped out from beneath 
 her white garments. Then he arose, folded his arms upon his 
 breast, and bowed his head in reverence before his queen. 
 
 " Your slave will lead the way," said he, softly ; k ' be merci- 
 ful, and follow him." 
 
 He then turned and began the ascent of the path that leads 
 up to the crest of the rock. Masa followed, praying to her- 
 self that her mother's spirit might accompany and guard her 
 from all danger. 
 
 Both were silent ; Mohammed hastened on from rock to 
 rock, higher and higher. 
 
 Mohammed was right. Masa fluttered lightly from cliff to 
 cliff like a white dove. 
 
 At times he stood still and looked behind him. 
 
 It perhaps occurred to him that he was walking too rapidly, 
 and should give her time to rest. Or he feared, perhaps, the 
 heavenly form might suddenly vanish like the vision of a 
 dream. 
 
 " See," said he, pointing to the moon now waxing pale in 
 the heavens. " See, the night is drawing to a close, and day 
 is about to break. I wish to see the sun rise with you, O 
 Masa ! " 
 
 " I, too, desire it," was whispered in her heart, but her lips 
 did not utter the words. " Lead the way, I follow you."
 
 THE FIRST DAY OF CREATION. 127 
 
 The whispering of the lips was to him as the command of 
 a sovereign ; he quickly turned and continued the ascent. 
 
 They had now reached the crest. And there, high above 
 all earthly care and sorrow, the two, the youth and maiden 
 stood, alone upon the lofty plateau. 
 
 They stood upon the spot of which Mohammed had said 
 that it was not yet desecrated by the foot of man. Here it was 
 lonely and solemn ; here Allah and holy Nature could alone 
 hear his words. And now, overcome by the wondrous picture 
 that lay spread out before them, and perhaps unconsciously, 
 Mohammed took the girl's hand ; and, without being conscious 
 of it, she allowed him to take it in his own and pass it to his 
 lips. 
 
 The moon had vanished beneath the horizon, and there, 
 where heaven and earth seemed united in sweet harmony, a 
 purple hue, like a messenger from God, gradually overspread 
 the sky. Who could tell where the earth ended and the 
 heavens began ; where the waves ceased to murmur, and were 
 commingled with the skies in Godlike majesty and love? 
 Little purple clouds chased each other across the heavens like 
 flying cupids, and here and there a star still faintly sparkling 
 as if to tell of the Divine mysteries of creation. 
 
 And now the waters of the sea suddenly begin to swell, 
 and the waves roll higher ; they rear their white crests aloft, 
 and a whispering pervades the air, as though the spirits of 
 heaven and earth were pronouncing the morning prayer of 
 the new day. 
 
 Upon the crest of the rock stand these two human beings, 
 regarding the fading stars and the rising sun, hand-in-hand 
 they, too. a part of the holy universe created by Allah in the 
 fulness of his grace. And their souls and hearts are as inno- 
 cent as were those of the first human pair in paradise, before 
 the alluring voice of the serpent had yet been heard. The 
 light of day still shines, as through a veil, but a rosy hue 
 gradually overspreads the heavens, and, at last, the sun rises, 
 in all its splendor from out the sea, as on the first morning of 
 creation, and on each succeeding morning since, comes this 
 holy, ever-renewed mystery of the sunrise, that tells of the 
 surpassing glory of God. A wondrous murmuring rises up
 
 128 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 from the sea, and the birds are all awake, exulting in the 
 brightness of the morning. The palm, the olive, and the 
 myrtle groves, rustle in the breeze. The lark soars heaven- 
 ward, singing its morning greeting. Even the eagle has 
 spread his pinions, and is mounting aloft from his nest in the 
 neighboring rocks, to do homage to the sun. It is as though 
 all Nature were crying, exultingly, " The new day has awak- 
 ened!" 
 
 " The sun has risen, Masa," cried Mohammed " tbe night 
 is past. As often as I have wandered among these rocks, 
 never before has morning seemed so fair never before have 
 the sun's rays so filled my heart with warmth. Heretofore, the 
 sunrise was but the signal for me to go in pursuit of game, or 
 to prepare to cross over to Imbro, to look after the fishermen's 
 nets, set out the day before. But to-day Allah proclaims to 
 me why it is that the sunlight is so glorious, that the eagle 
 soars so proudly aloft, that the waves surge so grandly. O 
 Masa, I will tell you why it is thus : it is because they are all 
 imbued with the spirit of creation, and this spirit is love eter- 
 nal, illimitable love." 
 
 " Speak not thus," said the maiden, tremblingly. " Speak 
 not thus to me. It does not beseem a maiden to listen to a 
 man's words of love without the approval of her father." 
 
 " But will you not accord me this privilege, Masa ? " asked 
 he, gently. " May I not go to your father and entreat him to 
 give me the pure maiden, that she may accompany me through 
 day and night ? " 
 
 " No, do not speak thus," she repeated, tremblingly. " You 
 told me you would speak of my father speak of him, Moham- 
 med Ali." 
 
 " Yes, of your father," murmured he. " I had so much, so 
 very much to say to you, and now it seems to me that all is 
 already said. What remains is as nothing, and is forgot- 
 ten." 
 
 "You are mocking me," said she, gently. "You only 
 wished to see if my father's daughter would be foolish enough 
 to follow you where she should never go except at her father's 
 side, or accompanied by women. You have punished me, 
 Mohammed, for my folly and boldness in following you and
 
 THE FIRST DAY OF CREATION. 129 
 
 confiding in you. If you have nothing to say to me, then let 
 me quickly go and return to my father's house." 
 
 " No, Masa, do not go. I did not intend to mock you ; I 
 really had so much to say to you ! Yet I know not how it is 
 with me ; it seems to me that if I have been transformed, created 
 anew ; that yesterday and its events are forgotten. I am as a 
 new, a different heing." 
 
 He could not hear the voice that whispered in her heart 
 also, that the dawn of a new day had cast its spell over them 
 both. 
 
 "Oh, speak to me of my father," she cried, in anxious 
 tones. 
 
 " Yes, I will ; I will call reason to my aid. Your father is 
 my prisoner, and I have sworn that I would bring the rebels 
 back to submission, and honor requires that I should finish 
 what I have undertaken. I now deplore it in my inmost soul, 
 now that the magic of your eyes has transformed me, and 
 made of the fierce combatant a man who longs to fall at your 
 feet, and pour out his heart's agony and bliss. And yet I can- 
 not undo what I have begun. I registered an oath in the 
 presence of the men of Praousta, and told them : ' If you do 
 not on the morrow comply with what I have commanded, in 
 the name of the tschorbadji, I shall behead the prisoners that 
 Allah has delivered into my hands ! ' ' 
 
 " O my father ! " cried Masa, loudly, in tones of anguish. 
 
 " I cannot do otherwise," said Mohammed, heaving a deep 
 sigh. " I have pledged my honor that it should be so. I can- 
 not recall my oath. But I can die, and die I will ; no other 
 resource is left me. I must choose between your father's death 
 and mine. I cannot live dishonored and perjured. The 
 tschorbadji can then release the prisoners ; and he will do so, 
 for he is kindly disposed, and it was I alone who wished to 
 proceed with severity. And Osman will join you in your en- 
 treaties to his father. Now all is clear ; now I know what it 
 was I wished to say to you here on Bucephalus. Ah, still so 
 much, and there is but an hour left me ! How often have I 
 gazed, from this place, at the heavens above, and the sea be- 
 neath ; how often seen the sun rise in its splendor ! But now 
 that I have gazed in your eyes, Masa, all else is forgotten and
 
 130 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 extinguished, and for me there exists only the present ; no 
 longer a past. Yet I wished to see you once more before my 
 death, and, I entreat you, grant me one request. My mother, Sit- 
 ta Khadra, once told me that when a man was about to die, Al- 
 lah's holy spirit is shed upon him, and the best and purest of 
 all the welis is sent down to the dying, that a heavenly atmos- 
 phere may surround him even here on earth. It seems to me 
 that you are the weli sent by Allah to him who is about to die. 
 Therefore, remove your veil, that I may behold the brightness 
 of your eyes and the crimson of your lips, and refresh my 
 soul in the light of your countenance. Yes, die I must, and 
 die I will, when I shall have seen the brightness of your 
 eyes ! " 
 
 " Look at me," said she, softly, " and hear what I have to 
 say ; I will not have you die ! There must be some other 
 means of saving my father. But you shall not die, for you 
 
 She spoke no further, but gazed dreamily upward at the 
 heavens. 
 
 The sun had risen higher, and now gilded with its rays the 
 crest of the rock. Its golden light illumined the maiden's un- 
 veiled countenance, and Mohammed regarded her in ecstasy. 
 Beautiful was she, and faultless ; the eternal morning of youth 
 shone in the features that were still more gloriously illumined 
 by the lustre of first love. She seemed to Mohammed the very 
 embodiment of loveliness, chastity, and innocence. In his ec- 
 stasy he could find no utterance for that which filled his heart. 
 His whole being, his whole soul, was reflected in his eyes. He 
 lost all control over himself in the presence of this maiden, 
 this heavenly image. 
 
 ' Love is my prayer, and prayer is my love. Look at me, 
 ye starlike eyes, and read in my soul what is written there in 
 characters of living flame. ' I love you, I love you ! ' It is 
 thus my heart speaks to you, and thus will it speak with my 
 last breath. What I now feel is love and death combined, 
 heavenly bliss commingling- with boundless suffering ; I 
 would weep, and yet shout tor joy. 1 ' 
 
 Suddenly, Mohammed bounded to liis feet, clasped the 
 maiden in his arms, and imprinted a kiss on her lips, a kiss 
 that made her tremble in her inmost being. For a moment.
 
 THE FIRST DAY OF CREATION. 
 
 she allowed her head to rest on his shoulder ; she then gently 
 released herself from his embrace, drew her veil down over 
 her face, and turned to go. 
 
 *' Oh, hear me, Masa, and do not be angry ! " he cried, en- 
 treatingly. " Allah has seen us, and now hears my vow of 
 fidelity. You say I shall live. Then say, too, that I may live 
 for you ! I swear to you that I have loved no woman but you, 
 that no other woman shall ever dwell in my harem. Oh, speak, 
 will you be mine, will you love me, and be true to me ? " 
 
 He paused, and awaited an answer, he waited long, but no 
 answer came. It seemed to him that, with him, all Nature 
 was awaiting an answer. The foliage of the trees ceased rus- 
 tling, the songs of the birds were hushed, the eagle folded 
 his pinions in the nest to which he had just returned, and 
 gazed fixedly at the sun. The waves subdued their murmur- 
 ings, and even the wind held its breath ; all Nature was mute, 
 and yet 110 answer came from the maiden's pure lips. 
 
 " O Masa, will you be true to me, will you love me, will you 
 one day come with me to my home ? " urged the youth in 
 tones of passionate entreaty. 
 
 Her lips parted, and, in low, soft tones, like spirit-whisper- 
 ings, she murmured, " Yes, I love you, and will be true to 
 you." 
 
 He hears her, and bows down, and kisses the hem of her 
 veil. 
 
 Sacred is the woman of a man's first love ; sacred is the 
 moment when he avows to her his love ; sacred is the moment 
 when he dares, for the first tune, to approach and touch her. 
 
 But suddenly an emotion of horror thrills his whole being. 
 
 " O Masa, in my ecstasy, I forgot that I have come here to 
 die, because I cannot live unless my honor is vindicated." 
 
 " To die ? " said the maiden, with a gentle smile. " Why 
 die now, when we have only just begun to live ? " 
 
 " I must die that your father may live. I have already 
 told you, Masa, that I have sworn by my honor, that the men 
 of Praousta shall pay the double tax, as they are in duty bound 
 to do. I have pledged my honor, that is, my life. Your 
 father will not pay, and I have sworn by Allah and the proph- 
 ets that the heads of the four prisoners shall fall if the
 
 132 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 double tax is not paid. You see now that I must die, that my 
 honor may not suffer. When I am dead you can all settle the 
 matter as you think best ; the governor may then show mercy, 
 and relieve them of the tax. But I cannot. And yet I can- 
 not allow Masa's father to die, for Masa would weep for him, 
 and her every tear would accuse me." 
 
 "You shall not die, Mohammed," murmured the maiden. 
 " No, you shall not die. O Mohammed, listen to my words. 
 I conjure you, do not be cruel. You say I should weep if you 
 killed my father ; but do you not suppose that Masa's eyes 
 would also shed tears if her father should rob her of your 
 life?" 
 
 *' O Masa ! " exclaimed Mohammed, in tones of ecstasy, as 
 he extended his arms toward her. 
 
 She stepped back, and gently motioned to him not to touch 
 her. 
 
 " Let us demean ourselves as we are commanded, as is be- 
 coming before Allah, the prophets, and the good spirits who 
 hover about us ; as is becoming in the presence of your 
 mother, and of mine, who are looking down upon us ; as a 
 youth and maiden should who have not yet been united in the 
 mosque. Do not touch me, but listen to what Masa has to 
 say : You shall not die for my sake ; you shall not fill my 
 eyes with tears, and my soul with anguish. You shall live r 
 Mohammed, that my whole existence may be yours, and yours 
 mine ! Let us think and dream of this ; let us hope for this, 
 and let us do all we can to make of this dream reality, and of 
 this hope fulfilment. I shall go down to Praousta. I shall 
 speak to them, and conjure them to pay this double tax in 
 spite of my father's opposition. When they shall have done 
 this, Mohammed, your honor will be saved, my father's life 
 preserved, and his daughter's heart freed from anguish. The 
 rest, Mohammed, we must leave to the good spirits, to the welis 
 and the intercession of our mothers." 
 
 " But if the men should still refuse," said Mohammed 
 " and I know they will," he added, gloomily. 
 
 " They will not refuse. My lips will possess a charm to 
 persuade them to do what we wish. They will not refuse. 
 My love and anxiety for my father will give to my words such
 
 T1IE FIRST DAY OF CREATION. 133 
 
 power that they must do, although with reluctance, what the 
 daughter demands of them to save the father's life. I conjure 
 you, Mohammed, wait patiently at least until the hour of sec- 
 ond prayer. Prolong the time until then. Allow me to an- 
 nounce this to them ; to bear a message to them from my 
 father and from you ; allow me to say : ' Mohammed will 
 wait until the hour of second prayer ; you can deliberate until 
 then, and not until then, if it be necessary to pay the tax. 
 Yet if, when the hour arrives, you do not appear, my father's 
 life is lost, and you will be his murderers.' I will speak to 
 them thus, and will entreat them with tears, and believe me, 
 these men are good at heart, and full of tenderness and mercy. 
 They, too, dearly love my father, the sheik, and they also 
 love the ulemas, the wise men of the place, and they will 
 surely yield to my entreaties if you will only wait, Moham- 
 med." 
 
 As she finished speaking, she turned the gaze of her glow- 
 ing eyes full upon him. He looked into the depths of these 
 eyes, and a sweet tremor coursed through his whole soul. 
 
 " See how great is your power over me, Masa. Mohammed 
 lays his honor, his pledged word, at your feet, and does what 
 you request : I will wait until the hour of the second prayer. 
 May Allah give strength to your words, and bless the charm 
 of your crimson lips with success ! I will wait. But one 
 thing, Masa, tell me now, before you go." 
 
 "What is it?" asked she. But she seemed to know al- 
 ready, for she blushingly averted her eyes. 
 
 " Tell me that you love me, then I will wait. Tell me, 
 Masa, do you love me ? " 
 
 " How can I tell you what I do not understand ? " mur- 
 mured she. "I do not know what love is." 
 
 " You do not know what love is ? " said he, gazing at her 
 fixedly and almost threateningly. " Then tell me this, Masa, 
 do you know that I love you ? " 
 
 When he uttered these words his face was so near hers 
 that she felt his breath on her cheeks so near, that his eyes 
 looked into the depths of her own and saw themselves re- 
 flected there. 
 
 " Do you know that I love you ? "
 
 134: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 A slight tremor possessed itself of all her being, and she 
 bowed her head in confusion. 
 
 "Yes, Mohammed, I know that you love me." 
 
 He suddenly raised the white veil from her countenance, 
 and softly and gently kissed her lips, as softly and gently as 
 the bee touches with its wings the crimson rose in search of 
 its sweetness. He then quickly let fall her veil again. 
 " Swear, Masa, that no other man's hand shall ever raise this 
 veil ! " 
 
 " O Mohammed, how can I ? " said she, in soft, pleading 
 tones. " Am I not my father's slave, is not his daughter's life 
 in his hands, must I not do what he commands ? But this I 
 can swear : that I will love you, Mohammed, that I will pray 
 to Allah to bless our love. And now let me tell you, I not 
 only know that you love me, but I also know that Masa's heart 
 is yours, for it beats so loudly, so stormily, and I feel so happy. 
 This I can swear, too, Mohammed, that my heart will remain 
 true to you, and that I will rather die, than of my own free 
 will allow another man to raise my veil." 
 
 " And this I can swear, Masa, that you shall not die," said, 
 he, and his voice sounded almost harsh and threatening. 
 " No, you shall not die, Masa ! You shall live, and live for 
 me, the husband of your future. And now, come, I will con- 
 duct you to the rocky stairway. This you will permit me to 
 do." 
 
 She gently shook her head, raised her hand, and pointed 
 to the landscape that lay spread out below in the bright sun- 
 shine. 
 
 "No, Mohammed ! You called me a white dove. Then 
 let the white dove fly away on its mission. You would not 
 be the huntsman that takes its life ? See, beneath us lies Ca- 
 valla, where people are now beginning to move about. The 
 eyes of gossips might see me, and the sharp tongues of cal- 
 umny defame my father's daughter. That may not be, for 
 the sake of my good name, and for your sake too, Mohammed. 
 Let me go down alone, and you remain until you see me de- 
 scending the stairway. Do not go down until then. Do not 
 give evil tongues occasion to suspect and speak ill of me. Let 
 the white dove that is to wing her flight, when it pleases Al-
 
 MASA'S JEWELRY. 135 
 
 lah, to the nest you have prepared for her, be pure and with- 
 out reproach. Do not speak one more word, and do not look 
 at me only see how weak I am : if you look at me again 1 
 shall stand still and wait till you command me to go. Turn 
 away from me and let me go. Let us both pray to Allah that 
 our wishes may be granted." 
 
 He turns away as she requested, and gazes in the opposite 
 direction, at the blue sky and the foaming sea. He sees her 
 not, but the pain he feels tells him Masa is leaving ; he knows, 
 without hearing her footsteps, that she is walking from him. 
 He remains above as she had requested. After a while he 
 turns around and looks after her. He sees the white dove 
 fluttering downward from rock to rock, and at last disappear 
 on the stairway that leads to Praousta. 
 
 " May Allah bless her mission, that I may live, live for 
 Masa, for her I love so passionately ! All that I do shall 
 henceforth be for her, and Mohammed's life will be bliss and 
 sunshine. " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 MASA'S JEWELRY. 
 
 THE village of Praousta had now assumed a busy look. 
 The men had assembled around the mosque, and were convers- 
 ing in eager, anxious tones. 
 
 When they saw the veiled girl approaching they bowed 
 their heads respectfully, as is becoming in the presence of the 
 unhappy. They knew the beautiful Masa, in spite of her veil. 
 They knew she had gone up to her father to implore him to 
 take pity on himself and on her. They now stepped up to her 
 and asked if her father still lived, and if there was any hope 
 of preserving his life. 
 
 " His life is in your hands," replied Masa. " I come to con- 
 jure you to save the life of my father, and of the noble old 
 men, the ulemas." 
 
 " How can we, daughter of Sheik Alepp ? " cried the men. 
 " How can we save their lives ?"
 
 136 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " You ask me ? Then I will tell you : You must bow your 
 heads beneath the yoke. You must obey the commands of 
 the tschorbadji." 
 
 " Never ! never ! " cried the men. " Has not the sheik 
 himself forbidden us to do so ? Did not the ulemas, as late as 
 yesterday evening at sunset, command us in Allah's name to 
 be firm?" 
 
 " They did command it," cried the girl, passionately, " and 
 they did so because they wished to do their duty and obey the 
 law. But it devolves upon you, ye men, to obey the higher 
 law that dwells in us. Will you, ye men of Praousta, allow 
 your best and noblest men to be murdered for the sake of a 
 paltry sum of money. Do you wish that your children and 
 grandchildren should one day point at you and say : ' Look 
 at them, they are murderers ! They slaughtered them that 
 they might keep their money, that they might keep that which 
 they held dearest ! " 
 
 " No, Masa, it is not on account of the money ! " cried the 
 men. " It is a question of our honor, of law, and of justice. 
 And therefore the sheik has commanded us not to pay. A 
 double tax was imposed on us ; that was unjust. The sheik 
 and the ulemas say that, if we pay this double tax, they will 
 the next time demand a treble, and the third time a quadruple 
 tax. In this way they would consume our substance, and our 
 fate would be poverty and the beggar's staff. Thus spoke the 
 sheik and the ulemas as late as yesterday evening, and there- 
 fore must we remain firm, and, therefore, oh, forgive us, we 
 should not dare to pay even if we could." 
 
 " But we cannot even do it," cried one of the men. " No, 
 Masa, you may believe us, it is not in our power. The tobacco- 
 crop has turned out badly, and the storms have destroyed our 
 nets, and let the fish escape. Really, we could not pay even 
 if we would. It was with the greatest difficulty that we got 
 the simple tax together, and now the tschorbadji sends us 
 word, by his collectors, that we must pay as much more. By 
 Allah, it is impossible, we cannot do it." 
 
 " No, it is impossible ; we cannot do it," cried the rest, in a 
 chorus of lamentation. 
 
 " Then you are ready to let my father die to become the
 
 MASA'S JEWELRY. 
 
 murderers of our ulemas," cried Masa, falling on her knees, 
 and stretching out her arms imploringly. " Oh, be merciful 
 to yourselves, for I tell you the evil spirits will obtain power 
 over you, if you do not abandon your cruel intention. I tell 
 you, misery will be your portion, if you allow your noblest 
 men to be murdered for the sake of vile money." 
 
 " And we tell you, Masa, that we cannot pay," cried the 
 men, in defiant, despairing tones. " We repeat, and call Al- 
 lah to witness, we have not the money they demand of us." 
 
 " You have not this money ? But if you had it, would you 
 then pay ? Would you bend your heads to save the heads of 
 our noblest men ? Would you go to the tschorbadji and say : 
 " Here is the double tax. You do us injustice, yet we humble 
 ourselves in order to save the lives of our sheik and the 
 ulemas ! ' Say, would you do this ? " 
 
 The people made no reply, but cast sorrowful glances at 
 each other, and whispered among themselves : 
 
 " The sheik would not forgive us ; he gave strict orders 
 that we should not pay." 
 
 " But his life, and the lives of the ulemas are at stake," 
 murmured one of them. 
 
 " Yes, his life is at stake ! " cried Masa, who had heard this. 
 " I entreat you to grant my request. Let each of you go 
 after the tax he has laid by, and then come with me, all of you, 
 to the tschorbadji. I will attend to the rest." 
 
 " Masa, what are you about to do ? " asked the men, regard- 
 ing her in astonishment. " It does not become a woman tx> 
 meddle with such affairs." 
 
 " It becomes a daughter to save her father's life. This is 
 ray only purpose, and may Allah assist me in accomplishing 
 it ! " cried she, with enthusiasm. " I pray you, go after the 
 money, and wait at the rocky stairway. I am only going tc- 
 my house, and shall return directly." 
 
 She flew across the square to her father's house. Two fe- 
 male servants, who had been standing in the hall, anxiously 
 awaiting the return of their mistress, cried out with joy, and 
 hastened forward to kiss her hands. 
 
 She rushed past them up the stairway, and into her room, 
 locking the door behind her, that none might follow. She 
 10
 
 138 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 then took hastily from a trunk, inherited from her mother, a 
 casket, adorned with mother-of-pearl and precious stones. 
 She opened it and looked at its contents. 
 
 " Yes, there are the ear-rings ; and there are the tiara and 
 the necklace." 
 
 Her mother had given her, on her death-bed, these, the bri- 
 dal ornaments she had brought with her from her father's 
 house, and the sheik had often remarked that these jewels 
 were worth at least a hundred sequins. 
 
 Until now, their value had been a matter of indifference to 
 her. What cared she how much money could be had for her 
 pearls and necklace ? She loved this jewelry because it came 
 from her mother, but now she thinks differently. 
 
 " The jewelry is worth at least a hundred sequins, and the 
 tax certainly does not amount to more. And, if it were more, 
 I should entreat the governor until he accepted the jewelry as 
 the second tax. Thus it shall be. O dear mother, look down 
 upon your daughter, and do not be angry with her for parting 
 with the costly souvenir given her by you on your death-bed ! 
 Do not be angry, and see in it only love for my father ! " 
 
 She bowed her head, and kissed the pearls which had once 
 adorned her mother ; kissed the necklace and the tiara that 
 had once shone on her dear head. 
 
 " O mother, I had thought, that on my wedding-day, I too 
 should wear tbese costly ornaments. But I know that it will 
 be a matter of indifference to him, the only one for whom I 
 wish this day to come. He would not look at the glittering 
 jewels, but only at me. I therefore willingly part with them ; 
 I do not care, for he whom I love will not be grieved if I come 
 to him unadorned." 
 
 A blissful smile overspread her lovely countenance. 
 
 She closed and locked the casket, and hid it under her veil. 
 She hastily walked down the stairway, out of the house, and 
 toward the mosque, where the men had begun to assemble, each 
 one bringing with him his proportion of the tax. 
 
 "Tell me, ye men," asked Masa, quickly, "what is the 
 amount of the tax you are called on to pay ? " 
 
 *' The simple tax, Masa, amounts to one hundred sequins. 
 Consider how heavy a burden this alone is. There are hardly
 
 MASA'S JEWELRY. 
 
 fifty men of us living here in Praousta, and really it seems to 
 us quite sufficient that each of us has two sequins to pay at the 
 end of each summer. But to pay the double tax is simply im- 
 possible. Your father well knew this, Masa, and he therefore 
 sternly commanded us not to pay, as the demand was con- 
 trary to law and justice." 
 
 "A hundred sequins," cried she, with sparkling eyes. 
 "Then all is well. Come, ye men of Praousta, let us ascend 
 the stairway. The hour of the second prayer has not yet 
 come, and until then, with the tschorbadji's consent, Moham- 
 med Ali has granted us a respite. Wait on the crest of the 
 rock above until I call you. I shall now go to the tschor- 
 badji ; pray ye, in the mean while, to Allah, that my words 
 may prove effectual." 
 
 She ascended the stairway with flying footsteps. With de- 
 jected looks, the men slowly followed. " We are wrong in al- 
 lowing her to persuade us to submit to the tschorbadji. We 
 will, however, pay the just tax, and no more. We would not 
 pay more, even if we could. Here let us stay and await the 
 call of our sheik's daughter." 
 
 "And let us pray, as she requested," murmured others. 
 On bended knees, and with solemn countenances, the men, 
 but now so noisy and fierce, awaited Masa's return in silence. 
 
 The white dove flew up the pathway, through the court- 
 yard, and into the palace, regardless of a number of her 
 father's old friends who were lying on the ground before the 
 gate. She dare not stop to speak to them, for the sheik 
 would seek to learn on what errand his daughter goes alone 
 into the palace. If she should tell him, he would command 
 her to return to her father's harem, there to await in patience 
 the fate Allah should have in store for his children. No, she 
 cannot approach him, cannot brave his questioning ; she 
 would then be compelled to disobey him, for her father's life 
 must and shall be preserved. 
 
 The tschorbadji stood in the lower hall. His heart was 
 troubled, and his countenance sorrowful. He should not have 
 permitted Mohammed Ali to go so far. How terrible it would 
 be if this execution should really take place here in his court- 
 yard, if the heads of the best men of Praousta should really
 
 140 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 fall to the ground ! No, he should not have permitted tfie 
 stern, pitiless young man to pledge his honor for the fulfil- 
 ment of what he had undertaken. He had already asked his 
 son Osman to seek his friend and entreat him to desist from 
 his stern purpose. Osman was now pleading with his friend 
 in soft, persuasive tones. 
 
 " Will he succeed ? " This is now the question that agitates 
 the tschorbadji. He had sworn by all that was holy that Mo- 
 hammed should have his will ; and a Moslem cannot break 
 his oath ; honor forbids it. The tschorbadji knows this very 
 well, and therefore is he sorrowful and dejected. Should the 
 young man persist, he must therefore unwillingly allow him 
 to carry out his purpose. He sits there on the divan, tortured 
 with doubt and apprehension. Will Mohammed relent ? 
 Will Osman succeed in softening his heart ? 
 
 At this moment the door opens, and a veiled woman enters 
 the room. She advances with light and noiseless footstep, and 
 kneels down before the tschorbadji. 
 
 " O master, be merciful to your servant ! Sheik Alepp's 
 daughter kneels before you ! Incline your heart to mercy, 
 and give back to me my father ! " 
 
 '' Gladly would I do so, were it in my power," sighed he. 
 " I swear it by Allah ! But I have pledged my word to the 
 young man to whom I gave authority to act in the name of 
 the law, that he should have unlimited power to do as he 
 should deem proper in the matter. I can therefore do nothing, 
 though I would gladly liberate your father and abandon the 
 collection of the tax." 
 
 " O master, I do not ask you to give up the tax ! You shall 
 have all you have commanded us to pay." 
 
 " You are prepared to pay it ? " exclaimed the tschor- 
 badji, joyously. "Then our trouble is at an end. But 
 pray why are you, the daughter of the noble, worthy sheik, 
 here?" 
 
 " I have come, O master, because I have an act of mercy to 
 implore at your hands. The men of Praousta are really not 
 able to pay two hundred sequins, but what they lack in money 
 I have in money's worth." 
 
 "You speak in enigmas, maiden," said the tschorbadji.
 
 MASA'S JEWELRY. 
 
 141 
 
 " You have the money, and yet you have it not. What does 
 this mean ? " 
 
 " I have not the money in coined sequins," said she, looking 
 toward the door as though she feared Mohammed might enter 
 and be angry when she presented her love-offering. " Look 
 at this, tschorbadji ; these were my mother's jewels, hut they 
 are HOW mine, and no one else has a right to them. Gladly 
 will I part with them for the sake of the men of our village. 
 I have often been told that these jewels are worth more than 
 a hundred sequins. I pVay you, take them of me for that 
 sum." 
 
 Still kneeling, she handed the tschorbadji the casket con- 
 taining the jewelry. He took it and regarded it thought- 
 fully. 
 
 "Did it devolve upon me alone to decide this question, 
 gladly would I take the jewelry, good maiden. But remem- 
 ber, I have sworn to Mohammed Ali that the prisoners should 
 only then be released when the double tax shall have been 
 paid in glittering gold-pieces. And I must keep my word. 
 Gladly would I give you their value, but I must confess to the 
 daughter of my sheik that I have not in my possession so 
 large a sum. But remain here ; a thought occurs to me," said 
 he. "The ambassador who comes from Stamboul for the tax, 
 and who arrived here yesterday, brought with him for Cous- 
 rouf Pacha a large purse filled with sequins. If I show him 
 this jewelry and ask him yes, I will do so. Remain here, 
 maiden, until I return. You might think I would keep your 
 jewels and not return. Take your jewelry and remain here. 
 I am going in quest of one who may be able to assist us. I 
 say us. for I, too, shall be much pleased if the matter can be 
 settled in this peaceful manner. Wait here, daughter of my 
 sheik, while I go in search of one who can settle this matter 
 to the satisfaction of all I "
 
 14:2 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE DELIVERANCE. 
 
 " THIS, dear sir, is the woman of whom I spoke," said the 
 tschorbadji, throwing open the door of the room, and stepping 
 aside respectfully to allow his distinguished guest, Cousrouf 
 Pacha, to pass in. " Salute this gentleman with reverence, 
 daughter of my sheik," said he, tilrning to Masa. "You 
 stand in the presence of a mighty man ; he alone can help 
 you." 
 
 " O master, if it is in your power, I pray you to help me," 
 cried the maiden, falling upon her knees before the pa- 
 cha. " Be merciful ! Deliver my father from his prison ; de- 
 liver us all from fear and danger ! " 
 
 " What does all this mean ? " asked Cousrouf, haughtily, 
 turning to the tschorbadji, who had respectfully stepped aside. 
 *' You bade me come to decide an important question, and I 
 find here only a young woman who is weeping. What does 
 this mean ? " 
 
 " This young maiden is the daughter of Sheik Alepp, who 
 is, as you know, imprisoned in the court-yard. She loves her 
 father dearly, and has continually worked and pleaded for 
 him since his imprisonment. She now comes to say that the 
 men of Praousta are really not able to pay the double tax. 
 You know that, although I would now gladly abandon the 
 collection of the tax, I have sworn to Mohammed Ali that he 
 alone should settle the matter. This tender-hearted maiden 
 has now thought of a means of solving this difficulty. She 
 brings these jewels, inherited from her mother, and asks me 
 to give her their value, a sum sufficient to pay the second tax. 
 I, however, am a poor man, and have not the hundred sequins 
 to give her for her jewelry, in order that she may take them 
 to the people of Praousta, for from them only will Mohammed 
 accept payment of the tax. Therefore, pardon my impor- 
 tunity. You are rich and mighty ; when your purse is empty 
 you can easily refill it. You are noble and generous, and will 
 perhaps be disposed to take the jewelry, and let the loving
 
 THE DELIVERANCE. 
 
 daughter have the money wherewith to obtain the deliverance 
 of her father." 
 
 " Where are the jewels ? " asked the pacha, gazing with 
 impassioned eyes upon the veiled figure of the maiden of 
 whose countenance the eyes alone were visible. But they 
 were so beautiful, and rested upon him with such an expres- 
 sion of tender entreaty, that he was moved to the depths of his 
 soul. " Where are the jewels ? " repeated he, slightly bending 
 down over her. 
 
 She raised her hand and gave him the casket. " Here they 
 are, noble master. May Allah soften your heart, that I may 
 not be deprived of my beloved father ! " He listened attentively 
 to this voice. It seemed to him he had never heard sweeter 
 music than the tender, tremulous tones of this maiden plead- 
 ing for her father. His gaze still fixed upon her, he opened 
 the casket and glanced indifferently at its precious contents. 
 For a moment a strange smile played about his lips, and he 
 then turned with a mocking, contemptuous expression of 
 countenance, and addressed the tschorbadji : 
 
 " Tschorbadji, can you really so poorly distinguish between 
 genuine gold and precious stones and a worthless imitation ? 
 These are playthings for children. These are not pearls, and 
 this is not gold. A well-planned swindle, truly. No Jew 
 would give you two sequins for these things, not to speak of a 
 hundred." 
 
 "Swindle 1" she cried, springing to her feet, and her voice 
 was now clear and threatening. " You accuse me of planning 
 a swindle ! You are wrong, sir ; and if there be any one here 
 who cannot distinguish true gold and pearls from a base imi- 
 tation, you are he ! The gold and pearls are genuine, and 
 were inherited by me from my mother, who was the daughter 
 of a rich jeweler in Stamboul. She bequeathed them to me, 
 and the casket has not been opened before since her death. 
 And you accuse me of attempting to defraud you ! You act 
 ungenerously. " 
 
 "Dear sir, forgive her, forgive her bold words ! " said the 
 tschorbadji, addressing in earnest tones the pacha, whose eager 
 gaze was still fixed on the maiden. It seemed as though her 
 anger had power to excite his sympathy and admiration.
 
 144 MOHAMMED ALT AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " It is of no moment," said he, haughtily. " I pray you, 
 tschorbadji, withdraw into the adjoining room. I wish to 
 converse with her alone, and if in my power I will assist her, 
 notwithstanding her imitation jewelry." 
 
 " O master, you are assuredly wrong," urged the maiden. 
 " The pearls are real, and the gold of the purest. I swear it 
 by Allah ! If you do not intend to purchase my jewelry, and 
 enable me to save my father, tell me so at once, but you must 
 not mock me." 
 
 " I am not mocking you ! Kindly withdraw into the next 
 room, tschorbadji, but leave the door open. You shall see all 
 that passes between us, but I beg that you will close your ear. 
 I wish to deal with the maiden alone, and it concerns no one 
 to hear what we have to say." 
 
 "I shall withdraw to the farther end of the adjoining 
 room, where no word of your conversation can reach me," 
 said the tschorbadji, respectfully. The pacha smiled conde- 
 scendingly on the tschorbadji, who walked into the next room, 
 .and seated himself at its farthest end. 
 
 " Now, daughter of Sheik Alepp, now we will consider this 
 matter," said the pacha. " I am willing to assist you, but you 
 must do your part." 
 
 " Master, what shall I do ? I am anxious to do all I can." 
 
 " Do you love your father ? " 
 
 " Yes, master ! I love him with all my soul ; he is the 
 master given me by Allah, and he is at the same time my 
 friend. He is every thing to me, mother, brother, sister. We 
 two are alone together, and love nothing in the world but each 
 other ! " 
 
 " Then I am sorry for you, poor child ! " said the pacha. 
 " Your father is lost if the tax is not paid. You say yourself 
 that the men of Praousta cannot pay the double tax, and 
 should they fail to do so the heads of the four prisoners must 
 fall." 
 
 " Be merciful ! O master, be merciful," cried Masa. " You 
 are rich and mighty. You can save him. Oh, save him !" 
 
 " You are in error," said the pacha, " in this case I am power- 
 less ; even the tschorbadji can do nothing. He pledged his 
 "word to Mohammed All ; he took the triple oath that he would
 
 THE DELIVERANCE. 145 
 
 allow him to act as he should think hest in this matter. Mo- 
 hammed Ali has sworn that the heads of the prisoners shall 
 fall unless the people of Praousta pay the tax, and that he will 
 behead them himself if no other executioner can be found." 
 
 " Horrible ! and thus was his oath," cried Masa, shudder- 
 ing. '' I pray you, master, tell me, were these his words ; did 
 he swear he would himself execute my father ? " 
 
 " He did. And, believe me, the youth will keep his word. 
 He is blood-thirsty and cruel, and it will gladden his heart to 
 cool his wrath in your father's blood." 
 
 " No ! It is impossible ! " cried Masa, in terror. l " He can- 
 not be so cruel, and he is not 1 " 
 
 " Then you know him ? " said the pacha, his eyes gleaming 
 with hatred. 
 
 " I saw him this morning, and implored him to be merci- 
 ful. I went down on my knees before him, and besought him 
 not to take my father's -life." 
 
 u And yet he will do it ! I tell you this Mohammed is a 
 fierce youth. Mercy is a word of which he knows nothing. 
 You yourself have seen that he is relentless." 
 " Yes," murmured she ; " he is relentless. 1 ' 
 " There is, therefore, nothing to be hoped for from him," 
 said the pacha. "The tax must be paid, or the prisoners' 
 heads fall." 
 
 She sighed profoundly, and covered her face with her 
 hands. She knows it is so ; he told her so himself, in an 
 agony of pain and sorrow. The men must pay the tax, or all 
 is lost ; her father, or he whom she loves, must die. She 
 knows and feels this ; and, therefore, has she come to implore 
 mercy of the stranger, whose gaze fills her with anxiety and 
 terror. She thinks of her father, and of the youth whom she 
 loves, and her tongue is eloquent, for she is pleading for both. 
 " I can help you," said the pacha, tranquilly and haughtily, 
 "and I will do so." 
 
 " You will ? " cried she, joyously ; and her eyes sparkled 
 like the stars of heaven, and filled the pacha, whose gaze was 
 still fixed on her, with delight. 4< You will help me. gracious 
 master, sent by Allah to my assistance, you will deliver my 
 father from prison ? "
 
 146 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 U I will," replied the pacha. "That is, it depends on. 
 whether you will grant a request of mine, and do what I 
 wish." 
 
 " And what is it you desire, master ? " asked the innocent, 
 anxious maiden in tremulous tones. 
 
 He gazed on her passionately, a smile lighting up his 
 countenance. " Lift your veil, and let me look upon your 
 countenance." 
 
 She shuddered, and drew her veil so closely about her face,, 
 that it concealed her eyes also. 
 
 " O master ! " said she, in low tones of entreaty. " As you 
 know, the custom of our land forbids a girl to appear unveiled 
 before a man." 
 
 *' Unless he be the man who takes her into his harem," 
 replied he, smiling. 
 
 " Yes, master, only before him whom she follows into the- 
 harem ; and then only when she has already followed him, 
 may she unveil her face before him. Therefore, be merciful, 
 O master ! Honor the custom of our land, and do not demand, 
 of me what I could never confess to my father ! " 
 
 " Silly girl," answered he. " I do demand it, and, if it i& 
 denied me, your father's head falls. You admit he is the only 
 man you love, and your only shield. When he is dead, you, 
 will be a beggar, and will not even be able to purchase a veil, 
 for the poor are everywhere unveiled, and are, on that account,, 
 no worse than you who mask your faces with veils. There- 
 fore, daughter of the sheik, lift your veil ! " 
 
 " Mercy ! mercy ! " she exclaimed, raising her hands en- 
 treatingly. " I cannot do what you desire. I dare not. I 
 have sworn an oath ! " 
 
 " An oath ? " said he, gazing at her piercingly. " To whom 
 did you swear this oath ? " 
 
 She trembled, and did not reply. She felt that she must 
 not confess the truth, for that would be to invoke destruction 
 upon the head of Mohammed. 
 
 " I swore it to myself," she whispered in low tones. " I 
 swore to remain pure and honest, as beseemed my mother's, 
 daughter, and never to raise my veil in the presence of a. 
 strange man."
 
 THE DELIVERANCE. 
 
 " Then keep your oath ! " said he, stepping close to her. 
 " You shall not raise your veil, but I will ; I will do it. I 
 must see your face before I fulfil my promise, before I deliver 
 your father from prison." 
 
 He raised his arm. She sought to defend herself, and 
 prayed for mercy. In vain ! With a quick movement he 
 lifted her veil, and fastened his gaze on her countenance. At 
 that moment a cry resounded through the apartment, a cry of 
 rage, and at the door of the adjoining room appeared Moham- 
 med Ali, pale and infuriated. He was about to rush into the 
 room, but with a bound the tschorbadji sprang to his side, 
 grasped him with all the strength which his anxiety gave him, 
 drew him back, closed the door, locked it, and drew the key 
 out of the lock. 
 
 " You ought not to enter, and, by Allah, you shall not 1 " 
 
 " I must enter ! " cried Mohammed, gnashing his teeth, and 
 looking like an enraged lion, as he endeavored to wrest the key 
 from the tschorbadji. But the latter grasped the key firmly, 
 and anxiously called his son. 
 
 " What has happened ? " asked Osman in anxious tones, as 
 he entered the room. Mohammed stood still, controlling his 
 wrath with a gigantic effort. 
 
 " You ask, Osman, what has happened. Within is Cous- 
 rouf Pacha with the sheik Alepp's daughter, and he treats 
 with her for her honor and innocence, and she allows him to 
 do so ! " cried he, loudly and fiercely. 
 
 " That is not true," said the governor. " You accuse him 
 wrongly. There is no reason why all the world should not 
 see and hear what is going on within. It is your fault alone 
 that I found it necessary to lock the door. What was your ob- 
 ject in coming ? " 
 
 " I came because the decisive hour has arrived, and I saw, 
 in the adjoining room, Cousrouf Pacha raising the girl's veil." 
 
 " You came and rushed past me like a madman. How do 
 the girl's actions concern you. She came to seek deliverance 
 for her father." 
 
 "How her actions concern me, you ask, tschorbadji?" he 
 cried, clinching his fists. " How Masa's actions concern me. 
 you wish to know ? "
 
 148 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Be still, Mohammed ! " said Osmau, whose keen vision 
 had read the youth's soul, in low, entreating tones. " I pray 
 you do not betray your secret." 
 
 Mohammed shook convulsively, and covered his face with 
 his hands. u It is true," he murmured. " I must and will be 
 silent. She is lost to me. I will think of nothing but revenge, 
 let all else be forgotten. Tschorbadji, you swore that I alone 
 should decide the fate of the prisoners, and you will keep your 
 oath!" 
 
 " I will keep my oath, as beseems an honest man, yet I 
 hope, Mohammed, that you will not be relentless ; if you had 
 heard, as I have, the poor young girl's lamentations, it would 
 have softened your heart, and it would not have become 
 necessary to resort to the pacha. " 
 
 " As if he could assist her," he murmured to himself. " As 
 if all assistance were not now out of the question." 
 
 " Be composed, Mohammed," said Osman, eiitreatingly, as 
 he threw his arms around his friend's neck. " Do not com- 
 plain, do not accuse. Be firm, and prove that you have a 
 strong and noble heart." 
 
 He cried out in piercing tones, as the lion cries when it 
 sees the hyena rending his young, as the eagle cries when the 
 storm-wind sweeps away its nest with its young. Then in 
 wild emotion he threw his arms around his friend's neck, and 
 groaned heavily. Within, in the saloon, nothing could be 
 heard of the loud talking in the adjoining room. The pacha 
 still held the veil high uplifted and gazed at Masa. 
 
 " What is your name ? " asked he, in low, soft tones. She 
 cast down her eyes before his passionate glances, and a deep 
 blush suffused itself over her features, making her still more 
 beautiful. 
 
 " My name is Masa," replied the girl, in a low voice. " But 
 I pray you, sir, let my veil fall over my face again. I am 
 afraid!" 
 
 " Let me gaze on you one short moment longer," whispered 
 he, ardently. " You are beautiful, Masa, as are the stars of 
 heaven, as are the blush-roses in my garden. No, you are still 
 more beautiful, for they soon fade, but you are in the rosy 
 dawn of your loveliness, and your youth is still radiant in the
 
 THE DELIVERANCE. 149 
 
 morning-dew of innocence. Oh, you are surpassingly beauti- 
 ful, and it seems to me the prophet has graciously sent me one 
 of his houris from. Paradise." 
 
 " I entreat you, sir, let go my veil," said she, in dismay, 
 while two great tears trickled through her long black eyelashes 
 and rolled down her cheeks. 
 
 " These are pearls, more beautiful pearls, Masa, than are 
 contained in yonder casket," whispered the pacha. "They 
 will be genuine pearls if you let me kiss them from your 
 cheeks." 
 
 She stepped back proudly, tore the veil from his hand, and 
 drew it down over her face again. " I have given no one the 
 right to insult me, and you insult me ! " 
 
 u How musical this sounds ! How sweet these words of in- 
 dignant innocence ! " 
 
 At this moment Mohammed's voice, in loud, angry tones, 
 was heard in the adjoining room. The pacha smiled, and 
 motioned with his head in that direction. 
 
 " You have seen Mohammed Ali, and you now hear him ; 
 he is a desperado, and will kill your father ! " 
 
 " Yes," she murmured to herself, " he will now be pitiless, 
 he will now kill him." 
 
 " But I," said the pacha, in gentle tones, " I have pity, and 
 I will save your father." 
 
 " You will save him ? " she said, tremblingly. 
 
 " I will," said he. " But hear me, Masa, charming crimson 
 rose, hear me." 
 
 " I am listening," said she, sobbing. 
 
 He did not heed this, but stepped nearer, and bent down 
 over her. " Masa, your jewelry I will not take, I want no 
 such recompense ; you shall even have money, all you may 
 desire, if I can purchase you with it." 
 
 Me, sir ? " she cried, in horror. " You wish to purchase 
 me?" 
 
 " Why are you so terrified ? I have in my harem many 
 women who are as beautiful and young as you are, and of 
 much nobler birth, and they esteem themselves happy in be- 
 longing to me. But I tell you, Masa, I will hold you higher 
 than them all. You shall rule over them all, and they shall
 
 150 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 all bow down before you, for Cousrouf Pacha will set them the 
 example. By Allah ! I swear it to you with the triple oath : 
 not my slave, but my favorite, shall you be. . Cousrouf Pacha 
 will honor you as the first, as the queen of his harem." 
 
 " It is impossible, sir,'' she cried, in terror. " My father's 
 daughter cannot sell herself. She is a free woman, and must 
 remain so." 
 
 "Then remain so, and your father dies," said he, com- 
 posedly. " Plume yourself with your freedom, but say, too, 
 in your proud arrogance, that you are the murderess of your 
 father. For, I say to you, Mohammed swore the oath, and he 
 will keep it. Your father will die, and you will be his 
 murderess." 
 
 " Allah be merciful ! I cannot allow my father to die. 
 No ! " she groaned aloud. 
 
 " He dies if you do not accept what I offer. I repeat it, 
 wealth and honors shall be yours. The daughter of the poor 
 sheik of the wretched village shall become the favorite of the 
 pacha. I shall not remain here long. The message will soon 
 come that calls me to Stamboul ; and you, Masa, shall go with 
 me. At the court of the grand-vizier you shall be the first ; I 
 will honor you above all the rest, and lay at your feet all that 
 I possess, for you are beautiful, and my heart is filled with 
 love for you. I will make you happy at my side. And now 
 decide. Without in the iron cage stands your father awaiting 
 his deliverance, and here stands his daughter, and beside her 
 Cousrouf Pacha, who offers her money, all she may desire, 
 and lays every thing that he possesses at her feet. If you ac- 
 cept this offer, Masa, your father walks out of his prison a free 
 man in spite of the blood-thirsty youth. Take the money and 
 do not think I am purchasing you ; it shall only be an earnest 
 of your future. If you suppose you are to be, as you say, a 
 slave, you are mistaken. You will only become the slave of 
 your love for me." 
 
 " No, sir ! never can I love you," she cried, vehemently. 
 
 " You cannot ? It is thus the heart of the wild-dove speaks ! 
 Masa, you will, because you will be touched by my love. 
 When you see me doing every thing to make you happy it 
 will touch your heart, and you will love me."
 
 THE DELIVERANCE. 
 
 At this moment loud cries and lamentations were heard 
 from without. 
 
 " Those are the men of Praousta, who have come up and are 
 lamenting. Do you not hear the call from the mosque ? The 
 second hour of prayer is at hand, the time has come. Decide, 
 Masa ! '* 
 
 She sank down on her knees, groaning ; and prayed to 
 Allah for mercy. 
 
 " O Masa," said the pacha, raising her from her knees, 
 u Cousrouf prays to you, be merciful to your father ; yield, be 
 mine and save him." 
 
 Loud cries of grief again resounded without. Masa shook 
 with terror. " I cannot allow nay father to die, I cannot ! I 
 yield, I am ready ; give me the money, that I may bring it to 
 these people." 
 
 " I will give it to you, and you shall rescue your father. 
 And now you are mine ; not my slave, but my queen. Go 
 up into my harem while I take the money out to these peo- 
 ple." 
 
 " No, not so," she cried, entreatingly. " Leave me my free- 
 dom for this one day only ; let me remain this one day with 
 my father, and do not let him have a suspicion of the price I 
 have paid for his liberty." 
 
 u Then let it be so," said he, regarding her fixedly. " You 
 swear, by the memory of your mother, that you will volun- 
 tarily return to my harem early to-morrow morning." 
 
 " I swear, by the memory of my mother, that I will return 
 here early to-morrow morning." 
 
 " You will come to the back-gate of my garden, where my 
 servants will await you to conduct you to me. And now I am 
 going after the money. Go into the adjoining room, to the 
 tschorbadji." 
 
 He opened the door, and beckoned to the governor. 
 "" Await me here a moment ; I am going after the money with 
 which to release the prisoners." 
 
 He turned to her once more : " You understand, until early 
 to-morrow morning. You have sworn by all you hold sacred 
 by Allah and by your mother." 
 
 " Yes, I have so sworn," said she, in a low voice.
 
 152 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 "You will keep your word, and henceforth you will belong 
 to me ; for you are now mine : remember this. You are mine 
 wherever you go, my property, my slave. This evening, when 
 the night sinks down, and when your father has retired to 
 rest, then you will come to my garden, where I shall await 
 you with my eunuchs." 
 
 " I shall come, master. Am I not your slave, and have 
 you not paid for me ? " 
 
 He nodded to her, and then turned and left the room. 
 
 Masa drew her veil closer about her face, that none might 
 see that it was wet with her tears. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 THE court-yard without now presents a busy appearance. 
 The fishermen of Praousta, becoming impatient and anxious, 
 had hurried in a body up the stairway in the rock. When the 
 signal for the morning prayer was sounded from the minarets 
 they knew that nothing was to be hoped for from the efforts 
 of the sheik's daughter, and they agreed among themselves 
 that they would go up in a body and petition for mercy. 
 
 They hastily agreed upon what they should say to the 
 governor, and determined, of course, in their generosity of 
 heart, that they would yield, and promise the governor to pay 
 the double tax if he would only patiently wait a little while. 
 This was their resolve. The sheik and the ulemas must be 
 rescued, cost what it might. With this firm resolve they has- 
 tened up the stairway, entered the outer court-yard of the 
 palace, and loudly demanded to be conducted to the governor. 
 
 But their clamors were in vain. At the gate of the palace 
 stood the eight soldiers of the body-guard, with drawn 
 swords, prepared to defend the entrance. 
 
 Enraged, the fishermen pressed forward with uplifted 
 knives, threatening destruction to all who should attempt to 
 bar their passage.
 
 THE FLIGHT. 153 
 
 " Where is the governor ? We must speak with him ; we 
 must have mercy." 
 
 " No, no mercy," cried a loud, sonorous voice ; and, as they 
 turned in the direction from which the voice came, they saw 
 a fearful object standing in the middle of the court-yard the 
 block covered with black cloth. Near by, proudly erect, his 
 lips firmly compressed, as if to repress words of imprecation 
 or wrath that struggled for utterance, stood Mohammed Ali, 
 like an angry spirit, ready to judge and to punish. Thus he 
 stood there, and, behind, a slave holding in his hands the glit- 
 tering axe. " Behold this, ye men of Praousta, and bow down 
 in the dust ; pay what the tschorbadji has demanded of you, 
 or the heads of my prisoners shall fall as I have sworn.'' 
 
 Horror, rage, and anger, were combined in the single cry 
 that resounded from the breasts of all. 
 
 " Mercy, mercy ! you cruel boy ! Do you intend to prevent 
 the men of Praousta from returning tranquilly to their homes ? 
 do you wish to make slaves of them ? " 
 
 " 1 have authority to act as I am acting, and I will grant 
 no mercy to the men of Praousta. Men must obey the laws, 
 and humbly submit to them ; and this you have not done, ye 
 rebels ! Why have you followed the sheik and the ulemas ? 
 You see they must bow down in the dust, after all ; and, un- 
 less you pay the tax demanded by the tschorbadji, they shall 
 die." 
 
 " Listen, ye men of Praousta, listen ! " cried a loud voice 
 from one of the windows of the palace. 
 
 There stood Cousrouf Pacha, beckoning to the fishermen 
 with his uplifted hand. 
 
 " Come into the palace ; I wish to speak with you. Make 
 free the passage, ye soldiers ! In the name onhe tschorbadji, 
 I command you to allow these men to enter 1 " 
 
 With a loud shout the men rushed toward the door, and 
 the body-guard stepped aside, and left the passage free. 
 
 Mohammed's glittering eyes followed them, and he sud- 
 denly turned pale, for Masa's lovely form now appeared on the 
 threshold of the palace. A cry resounded from his lip. He 
 stood helpless and motionless with anger and humiliation. It 
 was now clear to him. She, who had sworn to love, who had 
 11
 
 154: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 sworn by her father's spirit that no man but he should ever 
 raise her veil, had proved unfaithful. She had broken her 
 sacred oath ! She, whom he now loved with his whole heart 
 and soul, had blasted his hopes. The thought almost stopped 
 the beating of his heart. " Masa shall repent ! Mohammed 
 will wreak vengeance upon humanity for her broken faith." 
 
 He trembled, and pressed his lips firmly together, when her 
 white figure appeared in the doorway. But Masa saw him not, 
 nor thought of him ; her whole attention was occupied with her 
 father. With a joyous cry, and widely- extended arms, she 
 flew to the enclosure. " O father, O my father," cried she, in 
 loud, exultant tones, " you are free ! " 
 
 " Free ? " exclaimed the sheik. " It is impossible ! It 
 cannot be ! " 
 
 Mohammed sprang forward, and thrust Masa aside with 
 such force that she sank upon the ground. A cry of anguish 
 escaped her lips. She veiled herself, and gazed at him with 
 anxious, imploring glance. He could not endure it ; he 
 turned his eyes away from her ; he would not see her ; he 
 would be as strong in his hatred as he was in his love ! 
 
 "There is no mercy for the traitoress!" murmured he. 
 *' I will punish thee for thy unfaithfulness. I will revenge 
 myself upon thee ! " 
 
 The men of Praousta now issue from the house, and shout 
 joyfully before the cage in which the aged men are im- 
 prisoned : 
 
 " You are saved you are free. A noble man was found 
 who sent us assistance. Long live Cousrouf Pacha, your de- 
 liverer ! " 
 
 The pacha threw open the window. He stood there, his 
 form proudly erect. Upon his turban glittered the golden 
 half-moon ; above it waved the eagle's wing ; the sun fell 
 upon his sword and richly-chased poniard, playing gayly with 
 the precious stones with which his garments were adorned. 
 His eyes sparkled, and a wondrous smile hovered about his 
 lips. And again they shouted : " Long live Cousrouf Pacha, 
 our deliverer in time of need, our savior ! " 
 
 He bowed his haughty head, and his eyes rested pas- 
 sionately upon the young maiden, kneeling upon the ground
 
 THE FLIGHT. 155 
 
 in her agony. From her his glance passed over to Moham- 
 med Ali. He saw the pain and anguish imprinted upon the 
 livid countenance of the youth, and smiled triumphantly. 
 
 He withdrew from the window, and hastened down to the 
 court-yard, followed by the tschorbadji. He approached 
 Masa, and, bending over her, said, softly : " Rise, daughter of 
 thy father. Your sorrow and trouble have passed away. Be 
 gay and happy once more. That which wicked men sought 
 to do unto you has been frustrated. Your father is free. 
 Tschorbadji," said he, " command your servant Mohammed 
 command him to unlock the gate of this cage, and to release 
 the prisoners he has guarded so closely." 
 
 " No ! '' shouted Mohammed, in a voice of thunder. With 
 my consent alone can it be opened ! Guard the gates, ye 
 officers ; I go in quest of the key ; and not one shall be re- 
 leased until, kneeling at my feet, with their heads in the dust, 
 the rebels pay to me the double tax. What I have sworn 
 what I have sworn by ray honor, that must be done." 
 
 " We will not consent ! We will never yield ! " cried the 
 men, rushing about in confusion. 
 
 " Then the prisoners' heads shall fall ! " cried he, exult- 
 ingly waving his sword in the air. " The hour until which I 
 granted a respite has come ; the gold has not been paid ; the 
 law cannot be broken with impunity. You pay, or the hour 
 of vengeance is at hand ! " 
 
 "We will not kneel ; we will not humiliate ourselves be- 
 fore you, you boy ! " 
 
 With his sword still threateningly raised, Mohammed gazed 
 around him. 
 
 The tschorbadji and his son now approached the men, and 
 pleaded with them urgently. They explained to them that 
 Mohammed was in the right ; that he could not act differently. 
 As he had sworn by his honor to force them to pay the double 
 tax, he must therefore keep to his word. 
 
 " Do as he tells you," said the tschorbadji, in an entreating 
 tone : " pay the tax he demands. Do it, ye men ! I will re- 
 gard you well, if you do as I say. He who goes to Moham- 
 med to pay the money, he can ask at my hands a favor." 
 
 The men's anger became subdued by the soft, kind words
 
 156 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 of their master. With bowed heads and gloomy aspect, they 
 approached Mohammed Ali, who still stood with threatening 
 sword before the cage. 
 
 " We kneel before you in the dust ; we have returned to 
 our duty," said one of the men. '' Here are the two sequins 
 that I have to pay." 
 
 " Here are mine," " And mine," cried they all, with one ac- 
 cord. They knelt and offered Mohammed the gold. 
 
 He did not take it ; but, gazing steadfastly and bitterly at 
 the pacha, he thrust them aside with a movement of impa- 
 tience. "Lay your gold upon the block. What, through 
 your obstinacy, has occurred, cannot be obliterated by your 
 .gold. Lay your gold upon the block, for to it you offer your 
 gold." 
 
 Laughing wildly, he turned and bowed before the veiled 
 maiden. "But you pay for it with your honor, with your 
 shame." 
 
 She fell forward, and a shriek of agony burst from her lips. 
 But she still gazed with tender eyes upon the youth who looked 
 down upon her so fiercely. 
 
 " Traitoress ! You have forgotten your oath ! " 
 
 " No, Mohammed," whispered she. " Hear me ! " 
 
 " Away from me ! do you still wish to deceive me ? " 
 Again he thrust her from him. Masa would have fallen, had 
 not Osman hurried forward and sustained her. 
 
 " Forgive him," whispered he, softly. " He is wild with 
 anger and pain." 
 
 " O Osman, is all known to you ? " asked she, in trembling 
 tones. 
 
 Osman bowed his head. Tears stood in his eyes. ''Be 
 quiet we are watched. In the evening I will send you word." 
 
 " Open now the gates, and let the prisoners out," said the 
 tschorbadji to Mohammed. "The law has been vindicated." 
 
 " It shall be as you command," said Mohammed, with the 
 calmness sometimes born of despair. He drew forth the key, 
 and placed it in the lock. Masa sprang forward. The gate 
 opened, and now she stood beside her father. She threw her 
 arms about him, and kissed his lips. Then she bowed her 
 head upon his breast, and wept bitterly. The old man held
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 her close to his heart, and then, lifting her up, bore her, trem- 
 bling with emotion, from out the cage, in which he had endured 
 such torture for four-and-twenty hours. 
 
 The ulemas followed him. Joyfully the men greeted the 
 released prisoners, and prayed that they might escort them 
 home in triumph. 
 
 " I see no cause for triumph," said the sheik, calmly. 
 li You have done what I cannot approve. It were better, I 
 think, to have laid my gray head upon the block, rather than 
 you should place upon it your hard-earned gold, becoming 
 thereby the slaves of him who gave it to you, and has thus 
 lowered you by his gift." 
 
 " No, sheik," said Cousrouf Pacha, advancing proudly. " He 
 who gave this gold gave it not with such intent. He gave it 
 not to humiliate these men. I gave it for your sake, and for 
 your daughter's sake," continued he, in loud tones, and for an 
 instant his eyes gleamed passionately on Masa. 
 
 He well knew his words would enter Mohammed's heart 
 like a knife. Turning slowly, he glanced at him, and smiled 
 at seeing him turn pale. 
 
 " I am now about to leave you," said the pacha. " The 
 grand-sultan calls me from here. Fear not, therefore, O sheik, 
 that my countenance will longer humiliate you. I give you 
 freedom. Return to your friends ; you are free ! " 
 
 " Long live Cousrouf Pacha ! " was the exultant cry of the 
 men of Praousta. 
 
 No one heard, amid the many voices, the one crying : 
 " Cursed be Cousrouf Pacha ! Cursed be my enemy unto 
 death ! I swear revenge upon him ! " 
 
 " Cease, Mohammed ; be guarded, be silent ! Dissem- 
 ble your anger, your pain, O friend of my heart ! Believe 
 me, all will soon be changed : the sky that now seems 
 so dark, will soon be clear with the light of the sun and of 
 love ! " 
 
 " No, never, Osman, never," murmured Mohammed, gaz- 
 ing bitterly at Masa, who, leaning upon her father's arm, and 
 followed by the ulemas and the jubilant fishermen, was now 
 leaving the court-yard. "Nevermore, Osman, nevermore, 
 will the sun shine for me ! Night and impenetrable darkness
 
 158* MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 envelop my fate ! But I swear to revenge myself upon those 
 who have done me this wrong i " 
 
 " Silence, silence, Mohammed ! " said Osman, entreatingly, 
 to his friend. " See, my father approaches, and with him 
 Cousrouf Pacha. How triumphant he seems ! He knows he 
 has pained you. Will you permit him to see and rejoice in 
 your pain ? *' 
 
 '' No, no, you are right ! He shall not rejoice in my pain ! 
 Bitter heartache shall I prepare for him some day ! " Laugh- 
 ing bitterly to himself, he advanced toward the two approach- 
 ing him. 
 
 " Mohammed Ali," said the governor, solemnly, " I thank 
 you for your good services. You have accomplished that 
 which, by your honor, you swore to fulfil. And I affirm that 
 I also have kept my word. I allowed you to do as you 
 thought best, and did not restrain you when 1 thought your 
 acts cruel ; but I must nevertheless admit that you have acted 
 with wisdom and with courage. Gladly will I reward you for 
 that which you obtained through your daring. It is tit that 
 such a man should have an office, and exercise the duties 
 thereof from now on. Mohammed Ali, I have good news to 
 impart to you ! The scenes of yesterday have taught me that, 
 to preserve peace and quiet, it is necessary to have soldiers at 
 hand. I have already dispatched a courier to the neighboring 
 town, and a garrison shall hereafter stay here or at Ca valla. 
 You, Mohammed Ali, I appoint boulouk bashi, or captain of 
 this company that is to enter Cavalla to-morrow." 
 
 A deep color overspread, like the morning sunlight, Mo- 
 hammed's countenance : " Master, you well know how to re- 
 ward generously him who has done naught but his duty." 
 
 " And now, my Mohammed," whispered Osman, softly, " or 
 rather boulouk bashi, let me be the first to congratulate you. 
 How proud and happy I shall be when I see Mohammed Ali, 
 in his glittering uniform, inarching at the head of his com- 
 pany. Proud and happy shall I account myself when so 
 handsome, so brave a soldier, considers me worthy of his pro- 
 tection I " 
 
 " You make sport of me," murmured Mohammed, a soft 
 smile illuminating his countenance. In the spirit he saw him-
 
 THE FLIGHT. 159 
 
 self in his handsome uniform at the head of his company. 
 Truth and justice are once more acknowledged. The hour of 
 humiliation and pain has gone hy. The time he had so long 
 looked for had arrived. He listened calmly to the tschor- 
 badji's announcement that on the morrow his uniform would 
 be ready, as well as those of his soldiers, which were to be sent 
 at once to Ca valla. 
 
 " There will be a number of uniforms, and the young bou- 
 louk bashi can make his choice from among them." 
 
 " And the sword, my father, the sword, I will give to my 
 friend Mohammed Ali ! " cried Osman, joyously. " Do you 
 remember the gold-handled sword given me by the grand-viz- 
 ier on his last visit ? I have kept it jealously, though, alas ! I 
 can never wear it myself. And now my friend shall wear it 
 in my place, and, when I see him pass by with the glittering 
 weapon at his side, it will seem as if I carried it myself in de- 
 fence of my beloved country. Come with me, Mohammed," 
 said he, taking his friend's arm. " You are in need of rest. 
 You have been deeply moved, and now let us retire. It is 
 quiet within my father's apartments ; there we will betake 
 ourselves and repose together." 
 
 "We will all follow you," said the governor. "I pray 
 Cousrouf Pacha to accompany us. The day is bright and 
 lovely, and I think we all stand in need of rest and refresh- 
 ment. There we will take our coffee, and at the same time 
 something more substantial together, and, enveloped by the 
 smoke from our pipes, we will discuss the events of this day, 
 which commenced so stormily, and now seems to end so 
 pleasantly to our general joy." 
 
 " Who knows, tschorbadji, that it brings joy to all ? " said 
 Cousrouf Pacha, sneeringly. " I, of course, have cause to re- 
 joice and be thankful, this day. But it strikes me, Moham- 
 med Ali is by nature little inclined to be thankful. Instead 
 of joyfully receiving his honors, he seems to gaze wrathfully 
 upon us all." 
 
 " I think I have cause to do so," said Mohammed, impetu- 
 ously turning to him. 
 
 "And wherefore?" said Cousrouf Pacha. "Wherefore? 
 Speak on."
 
 160 MOHAMMED ALI AND IIIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Well," said Mohammed, " many, I think, receive honors 
 which they have not deserved, and have done naught to earn, 
 as if they were to be bought, and they knew how to purchase 
 them. I say that honor, power, and consideration, often 
 spring from hypocrisy and slavish submission ; and that 
 through cunning, deceit, and shame, many a free human soul 
 becomes abject and lost. I hope I am understood by Cousrouf 
 Pacha!" 
 
 " I regret that I can neither understand nor explain these 
 strange words. But you must feel, tschorbadji, that I have to 
 deny myself the pleasure of remaining longer with you in the 
 company of this wild young man, whose mind seems bewil- 
 dered by the honors conferred on him. Enjoy yourselves in 
 quiet repose, and be happy at your feast." 
 
 ' Do as it suits you," cried Mohammed. " I shall not share 
 it. I am exhausted, and shall retire to rest and refresh myself. 
 Farewell ! " 
 
 He bowed his head, and carried his hand in greeting both 
 to lip and brow. He then turned, and hastened rapidly away. 
 
 The pacha followed him with an evil glance. " The for- 
 ward youth is forever in my path," said he, threateningly. 
 " It was well for him he withdrew, for it might have come to 
 bitter enmity between us. Should he dare again what he this 
 day ventured upon, his life would no longer be secure. Being 
 a guest in your house, and meeting him there, made me con- 
 siderate to-day. But woe unto him should he cross my path, 
 when no such considerations restrain me ! Bitterly shall he 
 repent of his words. " 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE MESSENGER. 
 
 JOY and merriment prevailed throughout the day in the 
 village of Praousta ; a continuous firing of guns was kept up, 
 which delighted the boys, and terrified the sick, and the timid 
 little girls. Joyous songs were sung, and, on the grand square 
 before the mosque, men and women assembled for a dance.
 
 THE MESSENGER. 161 
 
 The tambourine rang out merrily, and cymbals and flutes 
 filled the air with sweet sounds. 
 
 A sail on the water was arranged for the afternoon, and 
 the boats were gayly decked with flags for the occasion. 
 
 In the first large boat the sheik, the ulemas, and the lead' 
 ing men of the village, were reposing on carpets. Two boats 
 containing the musicians followed ; and then came, in four 
 gayly-adorned ones, the women of the village, enveloped in 
 their white veils, and greeting the men in the other boats with 
 their bright eyes only. It was a beautiful spectacle. The sea 
 itself seemed to rejoice over it ; it murmured softly, and 
 curled its waves caressingly upon the beach. 
 
 The governor, accompanied by his distinguished guest, 
 Cousrouf Pacha, had come down to Praousta. Both were 
 saluted from the boats with shouts of applause ; handkerchiefs 
 and caps were waved, and the blessing of Allah and of the 
 prophet invoked upon their heads. But curses also resounded 
 from time to time from their midst. 
 
 u These two gentlemen are kind-hearted. They saved us, 
 and Mohammed Ali alone was the cause of all our trouble and 
 anxiety. Woe to the traitor ! He wished to make himself a 
 name, to mount to honor and power upon our shoulders, 
 though we should be ground down in the dust. Woe to him ! 
 woe to him ! The governor is kind, we have nothing to fear 
 from him. Mohammed Ali alone is our foe woe to him ! " 
 
 This was the cry from one to the other ; all joined in it ; 
 they all raised their fists menacingly against Mohammed Ali. 
 " May he hear our curses, and see our threatening hands ! 
 We will be avenged on him for what he has done to us. He 
 shall be repaid for all the evil he has done to the sheik ; of 
 this he can rest assured. We have loved and been kind to 
 him ; we have treated him as if he were our child ; he is in- 
 debted to us for all he is, and for all he can do. From us he 
 learned to manage a boat, to use a gun and thus has he re- 
 warded us. Woe to him ! " This cry resounded again and 
 again from boat to boat : 
 
 " Woe to him ! Woe to Mohammed Ali, the son of Sitta 
 Khadra!" 
 
 But he heard nothing of all this ; neither the curses, nor
 
 162 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 the laughter and shouts of joy. He had gone to his solitary 
 resort on the rock above. There he was alone, without fear 
 of being observed by the eyes of men. There no one could 
 hear his wails of anguish. There he was alone with wind and 
 waves. Alas, how short a time had elapsed since he had 
 stood there in joy and exultation ! His soul had revelled in 
 all the delights of the world, in all the glories of Paradise. 
 Only a few hours had passed, and yet it seemed to him that 
 he was entirely transformed, that he had became another man 
 since then. 
 
 With what pious thoughts, with what ecstasy had he, that 
 morning, greeted the rising sun ! His heart had been filled 
 with ineffable bliss ; tears of delight had stood in his eyes. 
 Now the evening is sinking down, the first evening after that 
 blissful sunrise, and vanished is all he had gloried in ; lost, all 
 he believed he had won. A white dove had fluttered down 
 from heaven, he had seen a fair swan full of innocence and 
 loveliness at his side ; and now, the white dove had trans- 
 formed itself into a monster, and the fair swan had become an 
 evil spirit. Yes, an evil spirit had assumed the form of a 
 swan, and cast a wicked spell over his heart, and now O Mo- 
 hammed, learn to suffer ! Rend yourself with your agony ; 
 press your hands convulsively to your breast till the blood 
 trickles out from your finger-nails ; cry out in your anguish, 
 till the eagle, aroused in his nest, looks out with greedy eyes 
 after the poor creature that has dared to disturb the king of 
 the air ! Let curses resound from the quivering lips that are 
 as pale as those of the dead ! Curse the swan for having be- 
 come a ghin ; the white swan for having transformed herself 
 into a cat, and then awake from your despair. Behold her 
 standing before you with the sweet expression on her delicate 
 features, with the blushing cheeks as you raise the veil, with 
 the crimson lips that grow more crimson still as yours touch 
 them. Behold her, in all her loveliness, and kneel down on 
 the place where she stood, and passionately kiss the earth her 
 feet have touched. Bless her in your love, and curse her in 
 the anger of your hatred ! 
 
 First love is passionate in its bliss, burning its agony, and 
 agony and bliss, fury and delight, are all pouring through
 
 THE MESSENGER. 
 
 your soul, and giving you the baptism of pain, making of the 
 youth a man. 
 
 " Tear love from my soul, and enable me to tread it under 
 foot ! " he cries out fiercely, as he now rises from the place he 
 had just touched with his lips. " Root out these memories 
 from my breast, spirit of my mother ! She to whom I here 
 prayed, and swore fidelity, has proved untrue. Strike blind 
 the eyes of my soul, that they may no longer see this horror ! 
 Make deaf my ears, that I may no longer hear the sweet voice 
 that sounds like heavenly music ! What was it she said, what 
 were her words ? 
 
 " ' I will be thine, and love no other but thee ! ' she said. 
 4 By my mother's spirit, I swear to you that no other man shall 
 lift this veil from my face ; I will be thine, alone ! ' 
 
 " It was music when she said it. It filled my heart with 
 heavenly joyousness. And now it proves to have been evil 
 spirits only, who had come up from the deep to deceive a poor 
 heart 1 Oh, these memories, they will follow me like a black 
 shadow throughout life. In wild merriment and conflict, I 
 shall be able to hush them in the noisy day ; but, Li the still- 
 ness of the night, they will come back to charm no, to tear 
 my heart ! O Masa, Masa, what have you done ! '' 
 
 Overwhelmed with his agony, he sank to the ground, and 
 kissed again and again the place where she had stood, and 
 wept aloud. 
 
 " Mohammed ! " suddenly exclaimed a voice behind him. 
 " Mohammed Ali ! The man who weeps has no manly courage, 
 and it would be vain to call on him for assistance ! '' 
 
 Is another evil spirit beside him ? What woman is this who 
 suddenly appears at his side, closely shrouded in a black veil ? 
 Is it another ghin come up from the deep ? 
 
 " You are right," murmured he, " no one need longer hope 
 for assistance from me ; I will give vengeance and destruc- 
 tion to those who call on me for help ! " 
 
 He springs to his feet and stares fiercely at the woman. 
 "Away from me ! Allah is Allah, the only one in heaven, 
 and Mohammed is his prophet. Away from me, evil spirit ! " 
 
 He exorcises this creature with the oath with which evil 
 spirits are driven out. But it seems this spirit is not to be ex-
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 orcised. The veiled woman remains quietly standing, regard- 
 ing him sorrowfully. 
 
 (t Mohammed, there are many who suffer, and yet do not 
 break out into loud lamentations. Many a woman wails in 
 the silence of her chamber ; the lamentation of many a young 
 girl resounds, unheard and unheeded, through the harem. I 
 know a girl, Mohammed Ali, who weeps and laments, because 
 she well knows that one whom she looked upon and greeted 
 in the holy stillness of the morning as though he were her 
 lord, entering the harem for the first time that this one 
 wrongfully accuses her, calls her faithless ; yes, perhaps at 
 this very moment, appeals to Allah for vengeance for a crime 
 which she has not committed ; for a wrong that does not bur- 
 den her soul ! " 
 
 " You know such a girl ? " he cries, with loud, mocking 
 laughter. "You are fortunate in knowing her. I do not 
 know such a girl ; I only know that they are all deceitful and 
 traitorous." 
 
 " Then you assuredly do not know this one ! She is as 
 pure as an angel, and her name is Masa.'' 
 
 " Masa ! " he exclaims, in loud and joyous tones. Then his 
 countenance darkens, and, raising his clinched fists threaten- 
 ingly, he cries : " Masa ! you deceive yourself. Of all deceit- 
 ful women she is the worst. Do not say that I deceive my- 
 self with regard to her ; I saw, with my own eyes, that which 
 gives me death ; that which will forever gnaw at my heart. 
 Away from me, and announce to her who sent you that no 
 woman shall ever deceive Mohammed again." 
 
 He turns to descend from the rock, but the woman holds 
 him fast, regarding him with an anxious, entreating look. 
 
 " Do you wish to kill my darling, the beloved child of my 
 mistress ? Listen, Mohammed ! On her death-bed the mother 
 confided to me her only child. Grasping her cold hand, I 
 swore by Allah that I would hold her as my own, that I would 
 watch over and guard her from all evil. This morning I 
 found my darling in an agony of grief. She did not go out 
 with the joyous crowd, but remained at home in her own lit- 
 tle room. I saw her wringing her hands, and heard her en- 
 treating Allah to take her life. I entered her room and said
 
 THE MESSENGER. 165 
 
 to her : ' O Masa, you know that your Djumeila is true to you. 
 Confide in her. Tell me all that grieves you. What is it that 
 gives you pain ? ' After I had thus appealed to her for a long 
 time, she arose from her knees, fell on my neck, and whispered 
 in my ear a wondrous tale of the starry sky, of sunrise, and 
 heavenly delight, of the bliss and pain of love. And I swore 
 by Allah and the prophet, by the spirit of her mother, that I 
 would never speak to another a word of what she had told me ! 
 But, because I love the child of my mistress, the child that is 
 to me as my own, so dearly, I promised that I would go to the 
 man she loves and tell him everything in her name." 
 
 " Then go seek him she loves ! You will find him in 
 the governor's palace ; there he sits enthroned in the midst of 
 his grand and brilliant harem. She longs to see the doors of 
 this harem thrown open to her. Go to him and tell what you 
 have to say. You will be welcome." 
 
 " I knew to whom I was to go, and I have already reached 
 my destination. The heart of a woman who loves can see the 
 absent like that of a sorceress. Masa said to me : ' Go up the 
 rock to the highest point ; there we vowed eternal fidelity to 
 each other. I know he will be there ! He will seek to wipe 
 out the traces of our morning communion with his curses, 
 perhaps, too, with his tears.' Now I am at the place to which 
 Masa sent me, and here, too, is he to whom she sent me. 
 Mohammed Ali, do not turn from me, do not shake your head. 
 Rather let us sit down, and listen to what Djumeila has to 
 say." 
 
 He did not reply. He only made a motion as if to shake 
 off the hand she had laid on his arm, in order to draw him 
 down to her side. But now against his will he permits her to 
 draw him down to a seat on the stone beside her. 
 
 " Listen, Mohammed ! Masa is at home, locked in her 
 room. She weeps and laments, and has sworn to me by her 
 mother's spirit that she would die to-night. The waves are to 
 close over hc*r if Mohammed does not rescue her from disgrace 
 and misery. Listen, Mohammed, and take what I say to 
 heart. Will you do so, Mobammed ! " 
 
 " Well, then, I will ! " said he, after a short pause. ^" May 
 Allah judge you if you are about to deceive me again ! ''
 
 166 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Then incline your ear closer to me, that the ghins may 
 not hear what I say and carry it further. What Masa con- 
 fided to me is intended for you only." 
 
 He inclines his head close to hers. For a long time she 
 whispers and speaks to him in impressive tones ; and he lis- 
 tens at first against his will, hut gradually a new life 
 courses through his being, a delicate color suffuses itself over 
 his pale cheeks, and his brow quivers with emotions of 
 mingled joy and pain. 
 
 The woman continues to speak in low, earnest tones. 
 
 When she has finished, Mohammed bounds to his feet. 
 Suddenly he is completely changed. His eyes sparkle, his lips 
 smile and part to give utterance to a cry, to a loud, piercing, 
 joyous cry, such as the eagle utters when he returns after a 
 long journey and sees his young looking up and opening their 
 beaks to greet him. He felt that he must cry out to relieve 
 his breast. He extends his arms into the air, as though he saw 
 before him the white dove, and wished to clasp it to his heart ; 
 as though he saw on the murmuring sea at his feet the swan 
 approaching, singing to him the song of holy virgin purity 
 and of chaste maidenly love. 
 
 " O how beautiful is the world ! " he exclaims, exultingly. 
 " How heavenly to live in it ! But then this is not earthly de- 
 light, but the bliss of Paradise. I shall enter Paradise to-day, 
 and be one of the blessed ; I shall revel in heavenly joys al- 
 ready here on earth as man never did before. Come, Dju- 
 ineila, and listen to my words. Come to this spot. See, here 
 she stood this morning ; here she exchanged with me vows of 
 eternal fidelity, and this holy place I have consecrated with 
 my tears and my despair. I was a fool ; oh, forgive, Masa, 
 forgive me, and I will repay you with life- long devotion. So 
 long as a drop of blood flows in my veins will I love you and 
 belong to you alone. Come, seat yourself beside me, Djumeila, 
 and listen attentively to each word I shall speak to you."
 
 VANISHED. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 VANISHED. 
 
 THE inhabitants of Praousta had insisted on making the 
 release of the sheik and the ulemas the occasion of general re- 
 joicing, and the latter were compelled to yield to the general 
 desire and take part in the festivities. 
 
 But it is well that evening is now come, and that the night 
 is spreading her rest-bringing mantle over the earth. It is 
 well that the opportunity has at last come to breathe freely in 
 the stillness of one's chamber, and to thank Allah, with 
 earnest prayer, for having given them a happy issue out of 
 the cares and dangers of the preceding day. 
 
 The sheik has finished his prayer in the silence of his 
 chamber. He now lightly ascends the stairway to the harem 
 where his beloved child, his Masa, sojourns. Before the door 
 of her chamber sits Djumeila, the faithful servant, and with 
 upraised hand she motions to the sheik to step softly and 
 make no noise, that Masa may not be disturbed. 
 
 " You know, master, that she has been complaining the 
 whole day. Anxiety and care for you, and the pain and ex- 
 posure she has endured, have made my dove ill, and she has 
 gone to her room to rest and restore her strength. She there- 
 fore requests you, through me, to allow her to remain undis- 
 turbed until to-morrow morning. She has not been able to 
 sleep at all during the day, and has continually wept and com- 
 plained ; but at last toward evening she partook of some food 
 and fell asleep. Yesterday she was so courageous and strong, 
 but to-day she has been weak and dejected. Before going to 
 sleep she called me to her bedside and told me to bear her 
 greeting to her father ; and to say to him that she hoped to be 
 entirely recovered by to-morrow morning, and would come 
 down to breakfast to hand you, my master, your coffee and 
 chibouque." 
 
 " It is well," said the sheik, softly. " Let my child rest, let 
 my Masa sleep ; tread lightly, and be careful that you do not 
 disturb her. I, too, feel that I need sleep. Let the whole
 
 168 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 house repose, and avoid making any noise before to-morrow 
 morning. Then I will come to her room to see her." 
 
 The old man took off his shoes and noiselessly descended 
 the stairway to his bed-chamber. It was now still in the 
 house. All Praousta was silent. The people were resting 
 from the pleasures of to-day, and the anxiety and care of yes- 
 terday. 
 
 In Cavalla, also, all was now quiet. The windows of the 
 tschorbadji's palace were dark, and silence prevailed every- 
 where. The governor and his son Osman had retired to 
 rest. 
 
 In the apartments occupied by Cousrouf Pacha darkness 
 also prevails, and in the harem the blinds have been let down 
 behind the latticed windows. One room alone is dimly light- 
 ed. On the table stands a silver lamp, which sheds a faint 
 light through the spacious room, upon the gold-embroidered 
 caftan of the pacha, and upon his proud, gloomy countenance. 
 He rises from his seat, and walks hastily through the room. 
 He then suddenly stands still. The pacha waits the arrival 
 of the girl he has purchased with the blood-money given for 
 her father. 
 
 All is quiet in the tschorbadji's palace, and also in the 
 sheik's house. The windows are dark the gate is locked. 
 Now she will come : she has given her word ; she has sworn 
 by Allah ; she has sworn by the spirit of her mother ; she has 
 sworn by all she holds sacred. She will come for the daugh- 
 ter of Alepp knows that one who breaks a treble oath is 
 doomed to inevitable destruction, and walks a welcome prey 
 to the evil spirits, to the ghins. Surely, she will not dare to 
 do this ! She will come she must come. 
 
 Something rustles in the garden. The pacha steps hastily 
 to the window, throws it open, and looks out eagerly into the 
 darkness. It is well that the moon is at this moment con- 
 cealed by clouds ; he might otherwise now see her coming up 
 the walk from the end of the avenue. No, nothing ap- 
 proaches. It is not the beautiful virgin, with the eyes of the 
 gazelle, with the light, airy step. How beautiful she is, how 
 fair, how lovely ! Is she not yet coming ? Does he not hear 
 approaching footsteps ? No, neither of the eunuchs is stealth-
 
 VANISHED. 169 
 
 ily approaching to announce to his mighty master that the 
 virgin has entered the harem. 
 
 He stands and waits, his face quivering with anger and im- 
 patience. He is angry with the girl for daring to come so 
 late. But come she will, and come she must ; for whoever 
 breaks the treble oath is lost before Allah and the prophet. 
 He remains at the window, looking out into the quiet garden 
 and dark night for a long time. The wind extinguishes the 
 lamp that stands on the table. Now all is profound darkness. 
 It is dark in the garden, and in the room. It is dark, too, in 
 Cousrouf Pacha's breast. 
 
 " Woe to her, if she dares to break her oath ! In that case, 
 I will go, with my servants, in the broad light of day, to-mor- 
 row, to the sheik's house, and demand my property my slave. 
 Mine is she, for I purchased her with money which she accept- 
 ed. Then, however, she shall not be my queen, but my slave 
 my servant. Come she shall, by Allah ! I must possess her, 
 for I love her with all the passion of my heart." 
 
 He bends forward, and listens attentively again. He 
 hardly dares to breathe, and his heart throbs loudly as he 
 anxiously gazes out into the garden. He does not notice that 
 the hours are rapidly passing ; to him it seems an eternity of 
 waiting. 
 
 Without, at the garden-gate, the two watchful eunuchs are 
 still standing. They, like their master, have been looking out 
 into the darkness, and listening throughout the entire night. 
 
 " No sign of her yet," said one of the eunuchs to the other. 
 " Woe to the girl if she dares to deceive our mighty master ! 
 She thinks, perhaps, he will abandon his claim. There will 
 be a nice piece of work to be done to-morrow. Cousrouf Pa- 
 cha, our mighty master, is not in the habit of being trifled 
 with. He will send us down after his property, and there 
 will be no lack of bloody heads in Praousta, to-morrow ; for 
 we shall certainly have to regain possession of this slave. He 
 says she accepted the purchase-money, and she therefore be- 
 longs to the master who bought her. Will she come, or shall 
 we have to get possession of her by force to-morrow ? " 
 
 " I hope she will come of her own accord," said the other. 
 " These fishermen are so brave, and have such hard fists." 
 12
 
 170 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " And I hope she will not," said the first, laughing. " We 
 must take her by force. I should relish just such a row, If 
 they have hard fists, we have sharp, glittering weapons. And 
 then, as you know, the soldiers are coming to take up their 
 quarters here to-morrow ; the tschorhadji will send a part of 
 them to help us when the company arrives." 
 
 The pacha is still standing at the window, looking out into 
 the night. He raises his hands threateningly, and his eyes 
 glitter like those of the panther, lying in wait for his prey. 
 
 " Woe to her if she breaks the triple oath ! Cousrouf Pa- 
 cha will know how to avenge himself. She must become 
 mine she is mine already. I have bought this slave, and, by 
 Allah, what I have bought I will also possess ! " 
 
 At last, day dawns. The sun sends out into the heavens its 
 purple heralds, and it begins to grow lighter in the garden. 
 The pacha now sees a figure coming up the walk. It is one 
 of the eunuchs. He goes noiselessly into the house, to his 
 master. 
 
 " Has she come ? " asks he, with quivering lips. 
 
 " No, master, she has not come. The path that leads up 
 from the village is still empty. Shall we wait longer, mas- 
 ter?" 
 
 " No," he gruffly replies. " Lock the gate and retire to the 
 harem. It must be a misunderstanding ; she supposed I 
 meant the following evening. Go ! " 
 
 The eunuch prostrates himself to the earth, and takes his 
 departure, gliding stealthily out into the garden. When he 
 feels assured that no one can see or hear him, he stands still, 
 and laughs mockingly : " It is a great pleasure to see a grand 
 gentleman now and then humiliated like the rest of us. He 
 was terribly annoyed ; I could tell it by his voice. Serves him 
 right 1 I am delighted to see that grand gentlemen have to 
 put up with disagreeable things sometimes, too truly de- 
 lighted." 
 
 With a sorrowful expression of countenance he now walks 
 on down to the garden-gate, where the other eunuch is wait- 
 ing, and tells him his gracious master has made his reckoning 
 without his host, and that his purchased slave's failure to come 
 has grieved him deeply.
 
 VANISHED. 17J 
 
 They looked at each other, and the dawning light showed 
 that they nodded triumphantly, with a malicious, mocking 
 grin. They understood each other well, without telling in 
 words what they were laughing about and rejoicing over. 
 
 The morning had come in its full splendor, and the town 
 and village had again awakened to life and activity. The 
 sheik, too, had arisen ; had already turned to the east, and 
 finished his prayers, and repaired to his daughter's room. 
 She had told him, through her servant, the evening before, 
 that she would come to him early in the morning, to hand him 
 his coffee and chibouque. But Masa did not come, and the 
 father's heart is filled with an inexplicable feeling of anxiety. 
 He hastily ascends the stairway. Djumeila no longer watches 
 before the door ; she has gone, and is perhaps busied with her 
 morning occupations. 
 
 The sheik opens the door of his daughter's sitting-room. 
 
 " Masa," he cries, " it is time to come down to breakfast." 
 He supposes she is within, in her bedchamber, and has not 
 heard him. " Masa," he cries again, " come out, my child, come 
 to your father." 
 
 All is still as before. He calls for the third time ; no one 
 
 replies 
 
 " Masa, where are you, my child ? " The sheik anxiously 
 walks through the sitting-room to the little chamber where 
 his daughter's bed stands : no one there either. " Masa, my 
 child, my darling, where are you ?" 
 
 He stands still, listening for an answer ; he breathes heavily 
 when as yet no answer comes, but consoles himself with the 
 thought that she has already gone down, and is awaiting him 
 below, while he is seeking her in her rooms above. 
 
 Hastily, with the quick step of youth, the sheik descends 
 the stairway again : but Masa was not there. The father's 
 calls grow louder and more anxious. 
 
 " Masa, where are you ? My beloved child, come to your 
 
 father." 
 
 All remains still. No answer comes to the father s anxious 
 
 calls. 
 
 The sheik now hurries to the kitchen, where breakfast is 
 being prepared ; Djumeila is standing there at the hearth, per
 
 172 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 fectly composed, attending to her cooking. She salutes her 
 master with a deferential air. 
 
 " Where is Masa, my daughter ? " cries the sheik. 
 
 " I do not know, master," she quietly replies ; " I have not 
 yet seen her to-day. Early in the morning, before sunrise, I 
 went out to the meadow to milk the goats, that my child, my 
 darling Masa, might have fresh sweet milk for her breakfast ; 
 since then I have been occupied with getting breakfast ready, 
 and now you ask me ' Where is Masa ? ' ' 
 
 " Spare your words and listen : Masa has vanished ; Masa 
 is not in her room." 
 
 Djumeila cries out loudly : " Where is Masa ? where is my 
 white dove ? " 
 
 She rushes out and runs to her mistress's room ; and, not 
 finding her there, falls to weeping and wringing her hands in 
 despair. 
 
 " Where is my beloved child ? she is not with her father, 
 she is not in her room." She then hastens to the other maid- 
 servant. " Where is Masa ? has no one seen my master's 
 daughter ? has no one seen my beloved child ? " 
 
 The sheik stood in the hall and listened to Djumeila's cries 
 and the answer of the other servant. He then walked rapidly 
 all over the house again, called his daughter's name loudly 
 once more, and stood still to listen for an answer. 
 
 " But it is foolish to be so anxious. Masa is fond of going 
 out to the sea to listen to the murmuring and whispering of 
 the waves. My child is pious, and may have gone to the 
 mosque to pray and to thank Allah. That is it she has gone 
 to the mosque." 
 
 The sheik rushes out into the street. It is well that the 
 mosque is not far from his dwelling. The doors are open ; 
 Masa is surely there, probably on her knees in one of the re- 
 cesses, addressing herself to her prayers. No, she is not there ; 
 the recesses are empty, and she is not up in the choir with the 
 women either. 
 
 " She is nowhere in the mosque ; but she may be down on 
 the beach." 
 
 The sheik no longer felt the weight of his years, he no 
 longer felt exhausted by the fatigues of the preceding day.
 
 VANISHED. 
 
 He is young again, and his blood is coursing through his 
 veins. With head erect and firm footstep he walks down to 
 the beach. 
 
 " Masa, my child, come to me ; hasten to your father's 
 arms ! " he cries, so loudly that his voice drowns the noise of 
 the rushing waves. But no one replies. Masa is not there. 
 
 A wild cry of terror resounds from his lips, he sinks down 
 upon the shore exhausted, and stares out at the waves as 
 though he would ask, " Have you seen my child ; has she gone 
 to you ; has she sought a resting-place in your cold bosom ? " 
 Yet why should she do so ? Masa is happy and loves her 
 father, why does she then torment him thus ? Masa must 
 have gone to some of her neighbors. She has many friends ; 
 every woman and girl that Masa knows loves her on account 
 of her happy disposition, her innocence, and her loveliness. 
 She will have returned home long since. Djumeila cannot 
 know that her master has gone out, or she would have called 
 him. 
 
 " Masa is surely at home ! " 
 
 The old man returns to his dwelling with the quick step of 
 a youth. Djumeila is standing in the door-way, weeping and 
 lamenting loudly : 
 
 1 ' Master, my child, my Masa, is gone I Allah be merciful, 
 and take me from this earth, now that my Masa is no longer 
 here!" 
 
 The sheik says not a word. He neither speaks nor weeps, 
 but only beckons to the men who have been drawn to the spot 
 by D jumeila's loud lamentations. When they have come near, 
 he bends down close to them, as if to prevent even the wind 
 from hearing him, and whispers in their ears : "My child is 
 gone. Masa is not in the mosque. Masa is not on the beach, 
 and is not with the neighbors ! " 
 
 The men regarded him with dismay ; and, supposing they 
 must have misunderstood his words, ask each other, "What 
 did the sheik say ? " 
 
 He then shrieks, as if to make himself heard by the heavens 
 and the earth, by the mountains and the sea: "My child is 
 gone I Masa is not in her father's house, Masa is not at the 
 mosque, and not on the beach ! Where is my child ? "
 
 174 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 He then swoons away. Djumeila now rushes down the 
 street, and her cries of anguish resound through all Praousta. 
 
 " Masa, the sheik's daughter, has disappeared ! Where is 
 Masa ? Up, ye men and women, let us search for her. Let 
 us search everywhere among the rocks and cliffs, in the hills 
 and in the valleys. Masa, the sheik's daughter, is gone ! " 
 
 From every house, men, women, and children, rush out 
 and gaze at each other in sorrow and dismay. " Masa, our 
 sheik's daughter, has vanished ! let us search for her." And 
 now they begin the search. People are to be seen running 
 in every direction to the rocks above, down to the shore. 
 The air everywhere resounds with their loud cries : 
 
 " Masa, daughter of the sheik, where are you ? " 
 
 Suddenly the music of the trumpet, cymbal and fife, and 
 the roll of the drum, breaks in upon and mingles with these 
 tumultuous cries. With warlike music the company of sol- 
 diers from the nearest city marches into Praousta, in accord- 
 ance with the command given by the governor to his cap- 
 tain. 
 
 The men have been on the march all night, and now 
 enter the village in the broad light of day, with their band 
 playing. 
 
 The military music rings out so loud and clear that the 
 cries of lamentation are no longer heard. The crowd stand 
 still and gaze at the gaudily-attired men who are marching 
 into Cavalla. The tschorbadji is standing with his distin- 
 guished guest, Cousrouf Pacha, in the court-yard of the pal- 
 ace. He has requested him to be present at the reception of 
 the soldiers. The pacha's countenance and bearing are un- 
 changed all haughtiness and dignity only his cheeks are 
 paler and his glance more threatening than usual. As he 
 now turns toward the gate of the court-yard, Mohammed Ali, 
 the boulouk bashi, appears for the first time, attired in his 
 handsome, glittering uniform, advancing with his company 
 toward the palace. On the governor's left stands his son Os- 
 man, who has risen from his couch, overcoming for the mo- 
 ment his weakness and ill-health in order to participate in the 
 triumph of witnessing Mohammed Ali lead his company, as 
 boulouk bashi, for the first time.
 
 VANISHED. 175 
 
 Yes, there comes Mohammed All, marching at the head of 
 his company, to the sound of the martial music. He holds 
 his sword uplifted in his right hand, and salutes the governor 
 as he approaches by lowering its point to the ground with a 
 deferential glance. He recognizes his friend, and Osmau 
 joyously returns the greeting. Mohammed seems to him en- 
 tirely changed at this moment, his figure taller and more 
 powerful. His countenance is manly and joyous, his eyes 
 sparkle with a mysterious fire, a smile plays about his lips, 
 and his whole bearing is firm and commanding. 
 
 It is not Osman alone who sees this change. Cousrouf 
 Pacha has also obsei-ved it. His countenance darkens. He 
 compresses his lips as if to repress a curse that is struggling 
 for utterance. Yet he retains his air of indifference and grave 
 countenance, though his cheeks grow a shade paler, and his 
 brow somewhat darker. 
 
 The band plays a lively air. Mohammed conducts his sol- 
 diers before the eyes of the governor and his guest through a 
 series of movements and evolutions which he has long since 
 practiced in secret. As they now advance toward him, " Right 
 about, halt ! " resounds Mohammed's word of command ; and 
 his soldiers stand there like a wall. 
 
 " Well done," said Cousrouf Pacha, with a gracious incli- 
 nation of the head. He then added in a loud voice, in order 
 that Mohammed should hear him : " You see, governor, street 
 boys can watch soldiers exercising to some purpose. Moham- 
 med has not stared at them on the street in vain." 
 
 He turns and leaves the court-yard, repairs to his private 
 apartments, and calls the two eunuchs who had held the fruit- 
 less watch at the gate the previous night. 
 
 " When the soldiers have left the court-yard, twelve of their 
 number will be placed at your disposal. Let them load their 
 muskets and unsheath their swords. Then go to Praousta, to 
 the sheik's house, and demand the restoration of my slave. 
 Demand it in my name. If her father refuses, search the 
 house and every place connected with it. Break open the 
 doors if he refuses to unlock them. If you do not find her 
 there, search the other houses of the village. I must have 
 her ! If you do not find her to-day, then find her to-morrow
 
 176 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 or the next day. I will allow you a week's time in which to 
 get possession of this runaway slave. If you do not return 
 her, your heads shall fall ! Eemember that ! Stop, one thing 
 more : observe and watch the new boulouk bashi. Select 
 some of my servants to follow him day and night, and to ob- 
 serve every thing he does, yet without letting him become 
 aware of it, for he is a shrewd lad and a daring one, too. 
 Now, you can go." 
 
 While the company is still standing drawn up in the court- 
 yard, the tschorbadji beckons Mohammed Ali to his side, and 
 enters the palace with him. 
 
 " Mohammed, it is evident that you will become a brave 
 and efficient soldier. You have courage ; now learn to con- 
 trol your anger, to govern yourself, and then you will know 
 how to command others. See, this purse filled with gold-pieces 
 is the captain's salary for three months, which I pay in ad- 
 vance, as the young boulouk bashi will have to incur some 
 necessary expenses, and will therefore be glad to accept a pay- 
 ment in advance." 
 
 Mohammed thanked the governor, and received the first 
 salary of his new dignity with perfect composure, though a 
 sudden sparkling in his eyes indicated how much he rejoiced 
 over it. 
 
 Osman, however, can read his friend's countenance well. 
 As the governor turns away, Osman throws his arms around 
 Mohammed's neck and whispers in his ear : " You stand there 
 radiant like a hero, and all the bliss of the world and of love, 
 too, is reflected in your countenance. O Mohammed, father 
 says you should learn to control yourself, and I am satisfied 
 you can. When my friend is harassed with sorrow and care 
 his countenance bears no evidence of it, but happiness is not 
 to be repressed and driven back to the heart in this way. It 
 illumines the face of man like the sun. But I warn you, Mo- 
 hammed, it is sometimes dangerous to let one's countenance 
 shine so. It easily awakens suspicion in the breast of an 
 enemy, and he meditates revenge. Beware ! Beware ! " 
 
 Mohammed regards his friend as though he did not under- 
 stand him. 
 
 " What do you mean, Osman ? "
 
 WHERE IS SHE? 
 
 "Nothing, nothing at all, Mohammed, except that it is 
 sometimes dangerous to allow one's happiness to be observed. 
 Bear this in mind, my friend, and draw a veil over your radi- 
 ant countenance." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 WHERE IS SHE? 
 
 IN Praousta, all was again uproar and confusion. Eight 
 eunuchs of the mighty pacha, Cousrouf, accompanied by a 
 detachment of twelve soldiers, came down from Cavalla at 
 noon. They went directly to the house of the sheik, and de- 
 manded to see him. 
 
 Djumeila, her eyes red with weeping, came to the door and 
 told them her master was ill with grief and anxiety on ac- 
 count of the disappearance of his daughter. 
 
 The eunuchs pushed her aside, and penetrated, in spite of 
 her cries and attempts to bar their passage, into the room 
 where the sheik lay on his divan, with pallid face and staring 
 gaze. His lamentations were heartrending. His quivering 
 lips continually cried : " Where is my daughter, where is my 
 child?" 
 
 They roughly forced him to his feet, and with savage 
 threats demanded of the old man that he should deliver over 
 to them their master's slave, his daughter Masa. Aroused 
 from his torpor, he stares at them in amazement : 
 
 " Slave ! " cried he. " And you call her Masa, and my 
 daughter ; and you say it is she ? Who calls Masa, daughter 
 of the sheik, his slave ? " 
 
 "Our master does," said they "our master, Cousrouf 
 Pacha." 
 
 " How can the stranger dare to call the daughter of a free 
 man, a free girl, his slave ? " 
 
 "He dares do it because it is so," replied the eunuchs, 
 shrugging their shoulders ; " Masa sold herself to his excel- 
 lency, our gracious master, to Cousrouf Pacha, when she 
 procured your release by paying the second tax. You thought
 
 178 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 it was done out of kindness. No, Masa sold herself to our 
 gracious master, Cousrouf Pacha, for one hundred gold se- 
 quins." 
 
 " That is false ; you lie, you wretches ! You lie in all you 
 say ! You lie ! " cried the sheik. He now stood erect, regard- 
 ing them threateningly. u Do not dare to speak to me thus 
 again ! Justice and law still live ! No one can say that Masa, 
 my daughter, is a slave ; and may he who says it stand accursed 
 before Allah and the prophets ! " 
 
 The two eunuchs threw themselves upon him and held him 
 fast. They then called two of the soldiers to their assistance, 
 and bound him hand and foot. This done, they threw the old 
 man contemptuously down upon his divan, and proceeded to 
 ransack every part of the house in search of Masa, their mas- 
 ter's runaway slave. 
 
 There lay the sheik, bound and helpless, groaning and la- 
 menting : " I am mad ! I hear that which is not. I hear 
 voices say that which cannot be. No, I am mad ! It is im- 
 possible that Masa, the daughter of the Sheik of Praousta, is 
 the slave of the stranger Turk ! Impossible that I can have 
 heard such a thing ! Death or even madness is approaching 
 me. It creeps stealthily toward me and stares at me wildly. 
 O Masa, my daughter, come save your father ! " 
 
 About him all was still, but in the rooms above was an up- 
 roar. He heard the heavy footsteps in the upper apartments, 
 into which, until now, no man save the father had ever en- 
 tered. They are going from room to room, throwing the 
 daughter's things about, ransacking her bedchamber, over- 
 throwing furniture, and looking under carpets and mattresses, 
 searching everywhere for the only daughter of the poor sheik. 
 Then they go to the yard, to the stables. Masa is sought 
 everywhere. But, Allah be praised, she cannot be found I 
 
 Without, before the door, stand the men and women of the 
 village in a wide circle, gazing with dismay upon the eunuchs 
 and the twelve soldiers, who now come out of the door, fall in 
 line before the house, and demand of the people to tell them 
 where Masa, the sheik's daughter, is. 
 
 " We know not. We have not seen her. How can we tell 
 you what has become of Masa, the sheik's only daughter ?
 
 WHERE IS SHE? ] 79 
 
 She was as pure and good as ever girl was. No one looked at 
 her. Who can tell where she is ? " 
 
 " This is all pretence. Enough ! we will go from house to 
 house and search for Masa ! '' 
 
 With cries of rage the men attempt to oppose them, but 
 the strange soldiers who have just arrived know no pity. 
 They use their swords vigorously upon those who oppose 
 them ; the sight of blood terrifies the others, and the cries of 
 the wounded silence them. The eunuchs' soldiers are allowed 
 to enter each house, for the men of Praousta are too poor to be 
 able to provide for more than one wife, and the poor man's 
 wife has no separate, secluded apartments. She goes about in 
 the house unveiled, and attends to her domestic occupations 
 while her husband is out hunting or fishing. The search of 
 the eunuchs and soldiers for the girl is therefore easily con- 
 ducted ; in each house there is but one wife and she is un- 
 veiled, as are also the children ; the maidens, however, timidly 
 shrink back and draw their veils more closely about them. 
 The strange soldiers, however, do not go so far in their bold- 
 ness as to raise the veils of the girls. And what would it avail 
 them to do so ? Neither they nor the eunuchs have ever seen 
 the face of the sheik's daughter. 
 
 " It is useless to search farther," murmured the eunuchs, 
 after having looked through the last house in the village, 
 without finding Masa. " It is useless. It was useless to look 
 for her elsewhere than in the sheik's house, and there we did 
 not find her. The law forbids our doing more, and the tschor- 
 badji, when he placed the soldiers at the disposal of our gra- 
 cious master, and ordered them to accompany us, expressly 
 commanded that we should not enrage the men of Praousta 
 to desperation, or to any thing contrary to law." 
 
 " But remember, brother," said the other eunuch, " what 
 our master said. We must bring him back this runaway 
 slave or we lose our heads ! And truly I would much rather 
 keep my head on my shoulders than have it rolled to the 
 ground." 
 
 " And so would I mine." said the first. " Therefore we will 
 do all we can to get possession of this slave. A week is a 
 long time, and I hardly think we shall have to wait so long."
 
 180 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 "There is one other matter we must not lose sight of," 
 murmured the first eunuch, as they ascended the stairway to 
 Ca valla, followed by the soldiers. "We are to watch the 
 crazy young captain, the boulouk bashi. and report all he does, 
 to our master. It seems to me there may be some connection 
 between the young boulouk bashi and the flight of the slave. 
 Let us keep our eyes open, for our heads are at stake." 
 
 And with gloomy looks they presented themselves to their 
 master on their return to the palace, to inform him that they 
 had made thorough search for Masa in the sheik's house, and 
 had not found her. 
 
 " And have you nothing to report concerning the young 
 man, Mohammed Ali ? " asked the pacha. 
 
 The eunuchs informed him that they had not yet seen him, 
 having as yet been wholly occupied with their search for the 
 escaped slave ; they would, however, have something to report 
 to his excellency concerning the boulouk bashi on the follow- 
 ing morning, or that very evening, perhaps. 
 
 " Who knows where Mohammed Ali now is ? " 
 
 " He has not been seen at the palace since the reception of 
 the soldiers in the court-yard." 
 
 " He must have gone to the hut his mother once occupied, 
 as he often does when he wishes to be alone." 
 
 Of late he had been absent less than usual, having promised 
 his friend Osman to live and stay with him. But now that he 
 is captain of a company, it would perhaps not become him to 
 remain at the palace as the tschorbadji's guest : for this reason 
 he would probably go to his own hut to take up his abode 
 there. Yes, he has passed the night in his own little house, 
 and he has just quitted it and walked into the main street of 
 the city, on his way to the store of the merchant Lion. 
 
 The merchant saw him coming, and hastened forward to 
 congratulate him on the high honor conferred upon him, and 
 to rejoice over the stately appearance of the young man, 
 who pleased him well in his uniform, with his sword at his 
 side. 
 
 " Truly a beautiful uniform, Mohammed Ali, and I have 
 but one regret, and that is, that your mother, Sitta Khadra, is 
 not here to see you in your magnificence. How she would
 
 WHERE IS SUE? jgl 
 
 rejoice to see her son, her heart's darling, her Mohammed Ali, 
 in all his glory ! " 
 
 *'I, too, wish my dear mother, Sitta Khadra, were here 
 now," said Mohammed, with a sigh. "I have never before 
 missed and needed her as much as now ; and you are right, 
 too, in thinking she would rejoice could she see me now. 
 Yes, with all her heart, Mr. Lion. Ah life, were beautiful 
 indeed, if Death were not always standing threateningly be- 
 fore us ! He takes from us what we love most, and esteem 
 highest ; we must ever be on our guard against him, and 
 keep our door barred that he may not steal into our midst and 
 rob us of some fair life. " 
 
 The merchant regards him with amazement. He has never 
 heard the young boulouk bashi talk in this sentimental man- 
 ner before, and it surprises him too, to see his countenance so 
 changed so radiant, serene, and cloudless, the chaste, thought- 
 ful brows so bright, the flash of his large brown eyes. 
 
 '' Mohammed, my young friend, what bliss has Fortune be- 
 stowed on you ? Tell your friend the secret ; for, truly all 
 that concerns and pleases you, gladdens my own heart. Tell 
 me what has worked this change in you ? " 
 
 " And you still ask ? You see me in my uniform in my 
 glory, as you call it it is this that has worked the change ! " 
 
 The merchant shook his head. " No, it is not that, Moham- 
 med Ali ; that which sparkles in your eyes, and resounds from 
 your lips in such joyous words, has nothing to do with your 
 uniform or with your new dignity. It must be something en- 
 tirely different ; yet, if you do not wish to tell me, I will ask 
 you no further. May Allah be with you in all things, and I 
 will entreat the same of my God. I think and trust both will 
 hear the prayer, for they are one and the same, after all. 
 Now, my young friend, come into my store with me and let 
 us chat with each other while we smoke the nargile, and re- 
 fresh ourselves with a cup of coffee. Ho ! ye lads ; Admeh, 
 bring us coffee and the nargile, with some of the finest tobacco 
 some of that intended for the sultana at Stamboul, that is to 
 be sent off to-morrow. There is great joy in my house to-day, 
 for Mohammed Ali, the young boulouk bashi, is here." 
 
 He seats himself on a cushion covered with Persian carpet,
 
 182 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 and requests Mohammed to seat himself on another at his side. 
 He does as requested, hut it does not escape the merchant's ob- 
 servant eye that he conforms to this hospitable usage with im- 
 patience, and does not wish to remain long. He therefore 
 does not urge him to remain when he, after a short time, rises 
 and asks the merchant to go with him to the store. 
 
 He wishes to buy all sorts of things. He has received his 
 first salary from the tschorbadji to-day, and desires to spend a 
 portion of it for some of the pretty things of which there are 
 such quantities and varieties in the merchant's store. 
 
 " It depends on what you wish, Mohammed. Is it carpets 
 or cushions ? or is it female attire or jewelry ? Do you want 
 mirrors, embroidered veils, or silken shawls ? What is it you 
 want?" 
 
 Somewhat confused and embarrassed, Mohammed looks at 
 the merchant and hardly knows what to say. 
 
 " Then let me have a carpet ; I wish to spread it out in my 
 room. I have, until now, changed nothing in my hut, but 
 have left it just as it was when Sitta Khadra lived in it. Now, 
 however, it seems to me that it would not perhaps become the 
 boulouk bashi to continue to live so wretchedly." 
 
 " Yes, the old story with office comes pride," said the mer- 
 chant, laughing. " The boulouk bashi, of course, needs car- 
 pets and all sorts of furniture. Here is an arm-chair inlaid 
 with mother-of-pearl ; does it suit ? Here are Persian car- 
 pets ; the colors are a little faded, and you can have them at 
 a low price." 
 
 " No, nothing with faded colors. Let me have your most 
 beautiful carpet ! Let the ground be white and covered with 
 flowers, with roses and violets ; and I wish, too, they could 
 have life and fragrance ! " 
 
 " Oho, Mr. Boulouk Bashi ! " cried the merchant, laughing, 
 and raising his finger threateningly. " Now the secret is out ; 
 you are in love ! This carpet is not for yourself, but for some 
 beautiful woman. Ah, yes, I have heard something about 
 this affair before, and now I know it is true." 
 
 " What have you heard, sir ? What is it that is said of me ? " 
 asked Mohammed, gravely, his countenance suddenly dark- 
 ening.
 
 WHERE IS SHE? 183 
 
 " Well, people ask why it is that Osman, the tschorbadji's 
 son, is so very affectionate to you, and why the governor him- 
 self has always so distinguished you, and now made you bou- 
 louk bashi ? " 
 
 " I had supposed it was because I deserved it," said Moham- 
 med, hastily, " and I thought Osman showed his affection be- 
 cause he loved the friend who had grown up with him." 
 
 *' He assuredly does love you, and the tschorbadji also re- 
 wards you on account of your merit, or he would not have 
 done so at all, and would not have chosen you for what he de- 
 sires of you." 
 
 " And what does he desire of me ? For what has he chosen 
 me?" 
 
 " It is said he wishes you to become the husband of the 
 beautiful Marina, his niece." 
 
 u I do not even know this lady," said Mohammed, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders. 
 
 " You do not know her, hut she perhaps knows you," said 
 the merchant, smiling. " She is very beautiful, it is said. She 
 is married, as you are aware, to my rival, the merchant across 
 the street. I have observed that this fair lady opens her shut- 
 ters, to peep out at Mohammed, whenever he passes by. The 
 neighbors say this is why her husband has become jealous, and 
 threatens to drive her away, if she continues to look after the 
 young men. You now perceive, Mohammed, that Marina, the 
 tschorbadji's niece, has an eye on you, and perhaps even two, 
 and that her husband knows it. The peace of the house has 
 thus been broken on your account, and the people say the 
 tschorbadji will now take his niece home again, and that you 
 are to marry her afterward. It is a good match, Mohammed, 
 a very good match. I shall be disappointed if you do not 
 marry this lady. She is rich, very rich ; and are you aware 
 that, with your epaulets, your uniform, and your handsome 
 sword, you must have money. Moreover, my son, he who in- 
 tends to rise in the world must have a great deal of money ! 
 It is not through his own merit that a man is advanced. If 
 he is poor, he remains in the dust. You know I have offered 
 to assist you, but you refused me because you did not wish to 
 accept benefits, and you were right. My advice you can, how-
 
 184: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 ever, accept ; and my advice is, marry the beautiful, the rich 
 Marina, when her husband divorces her, and sufficient time 
 has elapsed. She is very young, younger than you ; my 
 young friend Mohammed numbers eighteen years, and the 
 tschorbadji's young niece only fifteen. Take my advice, and 
 preserve your heart until it is time to let its wings grow, and 
 then stretch out your hand after the fair Marina." 
 
 " Thanks for your advice," cried Mohammed, laughing. 
 
 Never before had the merchant heard him laugh so hearti- 
 ly ; never before had he seen him make such a display of his 
 white teeth. Until to-day, Mohammed had been a remarkably 
 grave youth. What can it be that makes him look so joyous 
 and laugh so heartily all of a sudden ? 
 
 " Let us, however, hear no more about this fair Marina. I 
 do not know her, and have never seen her. That is to say, I 
 may have seen her once or twice, with Osman, when we hap- 
 pened to pass the veiled woman and her husband on the 
 street ; and I believe she did stand still and look after us. I 
 thought, at the time, it was on Osman's account, and probably 
 it was. How could the rich lady have turned to look at the 
 poor lad Mohammed Ali ? And now to other matters. Show 
 me goods, show me carpets, and I want the best and the hand- 
 somest. The carpet is to lie where my mother's mat once lay, 
 and on which she died ; and this spot cannot be too hand- 
 somely adorned. Therefore, give me a costly carpet." 
 
 " Let it be just as you say," said the merchant, smiling. He 
 then called his servants, and ordered them to bring down his 
 handsomest carpets, and spread them out before the younf 
 captain, in order that he might select one. 
 
 " You want nothing else, only a carpet ? " 
 
 Mohammed turned his head a little to one side, and avoids 
 meeting the merchant's keen gaze. "O yes, a number tf 
 other things. I want some table-ware, cups, glasses, and the 
 like. I also want," he continued talking rapidly, and with 
 forced indifference, " I also want a warm woollen cloak, such 
 as women wear. I promised a cloak to an old friend of my 
 mother. Give me a warm woollen cloak." 
 
 The merchant made no reply. He only smiled signifi- 
 cantly, and brought out the goods ; dark, plain goods, such
 
 WHERE IS SHE? 
 
 as became an old woman, and a friend of poor Sitta 
 Khadra. 
 
 But Mohammed promptly rejected it. That would not be 
 nice enough for a present. He wanted better, finer material, 
 and in lighter colors. 
 
 The merchant expressed no astonishment, but silently 
 brought out finer goods. Mohammed selected the very hand- 
 somest cloak for the old friend of his deceased mother. Final- 
 ly, he timidly asked for finger-rings and bracelets. 
 
 " Also for the old friend of your good mother Khadra ? " 
 inquired the merchant, with an air of mock gravity. 
 
 Mohammed did not reply ; he had probably not heard him. 
 He quietly selected, from the box handed him, a beautiful 
 ring set with a precious stone, then four beautiful cups and 
 saucers of the finest Chinese porcelain, and a variety of other 
 articles necessary for housekeeping. He concluded by de- 
 manding a pair of pillows and coverlids. 
 
 Mr. Lion asks no more questions ; he now knows that Mo- 
 hammed intends to marry, and is furnishing his house. He is 
 satisfied, and lets his young friend have all he has selected at 
 half the price he would have charged other purchasers. 
 
 Mohammed joyfully paid the price, and gazed at the beau- 
 tiful articles he had purchased, with sparkling eyes. 
 
 " If you wish it, Mohammed," said the merchant, " I ^vill 
 send a servant with you." 
 
 " Thank you ; I am going to my house, and he can accom- 
 pany me with the things." 
 
 Mohammed took leave of the merchant, and left the storey 
 the servant following heavily laden. 
 
 After a few moments Mohammed, however, turned, an? 
 came back to the merchant, who was standing on the thresh- 
 old looking after him. 
 
 " One thing more, dear sir. You are my friend, and, as I 
 well know, mean well by me," said he, in low, hasty tones. 
 
 " Certainly, Mohammed Ali, and gladly would I prove to 
 you my friendship." 
 
 " You can do so ; tell no one of my purchases no one," re- 
 plied Mohammed with a look of entreaty. 
 
 The merchant promised to be silent on the subject. 
 13
 
 186 MOHAMMED ALI AtfD HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Thank you, kind friend. I am happy ; yet all depends 
 on Allah's blessing." 
 
 He pressed the merchant's hand once more, and walked 
 out, hastily beckoning to the servant, who had remained 
 standing in the street, to follow him. He then walked on to 
 the little hut of his mother Khadra. 
 
 He pushes open the door, and the servant follows him into 
 the room. The bundle is laid on the floor, on the place where 
 his mother died, and Mohammed generously and proudly, like 
 a man of rank, hands the servant a gratuity, and bids him re- 
 turn. He walks off well pleased, and Mohammed is now left 
 alone in his mother's hut. 
 
 An old woman is sitting just opposite the hut. She was 
 there when he entered, smoking a short pipe, her arms crossed 
 on her knees. She looked about carelessly, only now and then 
 casting a glance at the house of the young boulouk bashi, who 
 had locked himself in. 
 
 Mohammed had thought nothing of her presence. What 
 cared he for the old woman there on the stone, smoking her 
 pipe? 
 
 When, after a short time, he steps out of his hut, she 
 stretches out her hand and begs for alms. 
 
 Hardly looking at her, he draws a copper coin from his 
 pocket, gives it to her and walks on. 
 
 The old woman keeps her seat, and mutters a few words to 
 herself. 
 
 Mohammed walks on rapidly. 
 
 A boy is skipping along on the other side of the street, 
 whistling a merry air. 
 
 What docs this concern Mohammed ? He walks on down 
 the street on the one side, the boy follows him on the other. 
 
 Mohammed heeds the boy as little as he had heeded the old 
 woman. What does he care for the boy, who seems wholly 
 absorbed in his musical efforts ? 
 
 He entered the store of the merchant, who dealt in all 
 kinds of provisions ; in olives, meats, chocolate, sugar, and 
 eggs. Mohammed purchases some of all these articles, and it 
 amuses and astonishes the merchant to see the young officer 
 become, of a sudden, his own housewife. But he does not
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 venture to say so, or ask any questions ; Mohammed's grave 
 looks and bearing forbid any attempt at raillery. 
 
 A servant is ordered to put the things in a basket, and take 
 them to his house. 
 
 As he walks out of the store again, he hears the boy's shrill 
 whistling in the distance. He pays no attention to this, and 
 walks on quietly. The whistling suddenly ceases, and the boy, 
 who had posted himself in the vicinity, so that Mohammed 
 could not see him on coming out, now runs after him, step- 
 ping close to the basket in passing ; he casts a quick, search- 
 ing glance at the articles it contained, as if taking note in 
 expectation of being called on to give an account of its con- 
 tents. 
 
 The old woman is still sitting opposite Mohammed's house, 
 reposing there, apparently, after smoking her pipe. Her head 
 is thrown back, resting against the door, and her eyes are 
 closed ; she seems to be sleeping. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 A NEW and great event occupied the attention of the in- 
 habitants of Cavalla and Praousta on the following morning. 
 A large and magnificent ship had entered the harbor during 
 the night, a vessel of the Turkish navy : its dark-red flag, with 
 the grand-sultan's crown on its dark field, showed it to be such. 
 The sailors were attired in glittering uniforms, and on the 
 deck stood a tent embroidered with gold, beneath it a luxuri- 
 ous couch of swelling cushions. The ship was still hand- 
 somer than the one on which Cousrouf Pacha had arrived 
 three years before. But then he had come to Cavalla as an 
 exile, and had not been sent away with the same ceremony 
 with which they were now prepared to welcome him back. 
 For it is already known, and the intelligence has rapidly 
 spread, that this ship has come from Stamboul to convey 
 Cousrouf Pacha back to his home ; and, therefore, was it so
 
 188 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 festively decorated with flags, and carpets, and garlands of 
 flowers. 
 
 His friend the grand-admiral, Hussein Pacha, has been 
 working in his interest, and the sunlight of his master's favor 
 is once more shed upon the head of the exile. 
 
 With great dignity Cousrouf received the captain, who 
 bowed profoundly before him, while those who accompanied 
 him threw themselves upon the ground, touching the earth 
 with their foreheads. He received the imperial missive with 
 perfect composure, opened it, and inclined his head with a 
 gracious expression of countenance, as tkough he were dispens- 
 ing and not receiving a favor. 
 
 " 'Tis well, captain I am ready ! Our most gracious em- 
 peror and master has written to me, and as he wishes " (he 
 emphasized this word ; the sultan only expresses a wish, he 
 does not command Cousrouf Pacha) "as he wishes me to re- 
 turn to Stamboul with all convenient speed, keep every thing 
 in readiness to sail." 
 
 " Will your excellency sail to-day ? " asked the captain. 
 
 Cousrouf Pacha slowly shook his head. " I do not know. 
 It may be to-day, and yet it may not be possible to depart for 
 a week. It depends on circumstances which I cannot entirely 
 control ; but keep every thing in readiness, as I may, should mat- 
 ters take a favorable turn, be enabled to depart at any hour." 
 
 Walking backward, his head profoundly inclined, the cap- 
 tain quits the saloon ; his suite creep out on their knees. 
 
 Cousrouf stands haughtily erect, gazing proudly after 
 them. When they had gone out, he utters a cry, a command, 
 and a side-door opens, and two of his eunuchs, his confidants, 
 enter the room. 
 
 " Make your report ! " he exclaims, sternly, as he raises his 
 hand threateningly, and then lets it fall again to his side. 
 "Tell me, dogs ; where is the runaway slave ? " 
 
 They threw themselves on their knees before him, and 
 crossed their arms on their breasts. 
 
 "O lord and master, we do not know." 
 
 "You do not know, you dogs? Then you are deter- 
 mined to be chastised 'I " cries the pacha. " You have no trace 
 of her whatever ? "
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 189 
 
 "No, O master ; not as yet." 
 
 " Yet you are aware that I have only given you seven days' 
 time ? If you do not restore her to me within that time, your 
 heads fall ! You have not forgotten that ? " 
 
 " No, master, we have not forgotten it." 
 
 "You are wise," said the pacha, quietly. "What about 
 Mohammed Ali ; have you caused his movements to be closely 
 watched ? " 
 
 " Yes, master, we have done so." 
 
 " Then speak," commanded the pacha, falling back on his 
 cushions with closed eyes, slowly smoking his chibouque, and 
 opening his lips from time to time to allow a whiff of smoke 
 to curl slowly upward. '' Your report, dogs ! " 
 
 With ready tongues the eunuchs reported all the old wom- 
 an and boy had observed. 
 
 " Continue," commanded the pacha, as they both ceased 
 speaking, " continue." 
 
 " Master, we have nothing further to report." 
 
 " You are a couple of blockheads," observed their gracious 
 master. " Goods, table-ware, provisions you know nothing 
 else." 
 
 "No, lord and master, we know of nothing else." 
 
 "But the one thing, the most important, tell me : where 
 did the boulouk bashi pass the night ? " 
 
 l> Master, we believe he passed it in his house." 
 
 " You only believe it ? This night you must know. But 
 take notice of this : Be careful not to injure himself or his 
 property. His person and his property shall not be touched : 
 this I have sworn. Yet know this : If you do not tell me to- 
 morrow morning where the boulouk bashi has passed the 
 night, you shall both receive the bastinado, and after such a 
 fashion that you will find walking anything but pleasant, and 
 yet I will have you driven through the city in search of the 
 information you are so slow in getting." 
 
 With a gesture of the hand he motioned to them to leave 
 the room, and they withdrew as they had entered, on their 
 knees. After closing the door behind them, they jumped 
 hastily to their feet. 
 
 " The bastinado ! Did you hear ? " asked the one. " We
 
 190 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 must find out at every cost where the boulouk bashi passes the 
 night. But how can we ? We are neither to injure his prop- 
 erty, nor to touch him or what belongs to him. We are not 
 allowed to open his door or break into his house ; what are 
 we to do ? " 
 
 " I have thought of something," said the other. " Come, I 
 will tell you. Let us get everything ready." 
 
 Dark clouds covered the heavens, shutting out the light of 
 the moon and stars, and night sank down over the earth 
 earlier than usual. 
 
 The people had retired to rest, and the houses were dark. 
 Suddenly a bright light illumined the surrounding darkness, 
 and cries for help resounded through the air. The house that 
 stood opposite Mohammed's is enveloped in flames, and its oc- 
 cupants rush out yelling and screaming for help. 
 
 The old woman and the boy ran over the way and knocked 
 at the window-shutters of the young boulouk bashi. 
 
 " Come out, come out, Mohammed Ali ! Save yourself ! 
 Your house has commenced to burn ! " 
 
 All was still in the house, as though Mohammed knew the 
 voice lied, that there was no danger, and that he could sleep 
 on quietly. 
 
 They knock at the shutters, they shake the door, but all re- 
 mains silent within ; the light of the fire does not awake him, 
 the cries do not reach his ear. He is not there ; he is assuredly 
 not passing the night in his house. It has certainly been set 
 on fire in vain ; the poor people have sacrificed their property, 
 and the spies have failed to discover where Mohammed Ali 
 has passed the night. 
 
 On the following morning howls and lamentations are 
 heard in the lower apartments of the harem ; from time to 
 time the sound of blows can be distinguished, and then again 
 howls and cries of pain. 
 
 No one dares inquire into the cause of these outcries, for in 
 his own apartments Cousrouf Pacha is master, and even the 
 governor would not venture to call him to account for his 
 treatment of his own servants. 
 
 Osman lay on his cushions in the little portion of his gar- 
 den that had alone been reserved for the use of himself and
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 191 
 
 father, since Cousrouf Pacha had been occupying the remain- 
 der with his harem. He heard the howls and cries of pain 
 that came from the harem, and bowed his head in sad- 
 ness. 
 
 " These poor wretches must suffer for it ! " he murmured to 
 himself. 
 
 But suddenly his countenance brightens, as he sees his 
 friend approaching in his glittering uniform, and he extends 
 both hands to greet him. 
 
 " I am delighted to see you, Mohammed, after this long ab- 
 sence ! " 
 
 " As I am you ! " said the latter, his countenance radiant 
 with smiles. " Forgive me for not having come to see you all 
 day yesterday. I was so busy with my soldiers, and still more 
 so with myself, Osman ! I have had much to learn to keep 
 the soldiers from observing that I was a mere beginner in the 
 art of war.'' 
 
 " And that is all you have to say in excuse for your con- 
 duct ? " said Osman, looking searchingly into his friend's 
 countenance. 
 
 " That is all," replied he, hastily, endeavoring to look his 
 friend full in the face. But he could not, and looked aside. 
 
 Osman notices this, and nods his head with a smile full of 
 meaning. 
 
 " Pray seat yourself at my side Mohammed ? Let me throw 
 my arm around your neck, and then listen to me, my friend. 
 Offer no resistance, for I must confess that your friend Osman 
 has been employing spies for some time past, and he knows 
 more than Mohammed supposes, and much more than Cous- 
 rouf Pacha dreams of." 
 
 "What do you know?" asked Mohammed, trembling 
 slightly. " I pray you tell me, Osman 1 " 
 
 "Listen, Mohammed," said Osman, bending toward him, in 
 a low voice. " Lamentations have just resounded from the in- 
 terior of the pacha's harem. Two of his eunuchs have received 
 the bastinado, and do you know why ? Because they could 
 not inform him where Mohammed Ali passed the last and the 
 preceding night." 
 
 "For that reason?" asked Mohammed. "I was in my
 
 192 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 house. If Cousrouf Pacha had himself asked me, I should 
 have told him I was there ! " 
 
 Osman gently shook his head. " No, Mohammed, you 
 were not in your house ; and Cousrouf Pacha well knows you 
 were not. Do you know why ? He lighted a lamp to look for 
 you." 
 
 " A lamp ! " asked Mohammed. 
 
 " Yes, a lamp ! And do you know what this lamp consisted 
 of ? Of the house that stood opposite yours. They set it on 
 fire, and knocked at your doors and window shutters to 
 awaken you. And, if you had been there, you would have 
 heard the outcries of the people, and would assuredly have 
 gone to their assistance. No, Mohammed, you were not in 
 your house last night ! " 
 
 " I was above, on the summit of the rock," said Moham- 
 med, hastily, and in a somewhat embarrassed manner. 
 
 " No," said Osman, gently. " You forget, Mohammed, that 
 you came down in the evening with the four pigeons you had 
 shot, and you also forget that you went on down to Praousta 
 as it grew dark." 
 
 " No," said Mohammed, hastily, " no, that I did not do ! " 
 
 " Yes, you did, my friend," said Osman, quietly. " A crip- 
 ple stood by the way-side, whom you brushed against in pass- 
 ing by ; he cursed you, and followed you for a while, contin- 
 ually cursing, but you walked on without heeding him." 
 
 Mohammed looked at him in dismay. " How do you know 
 all this ? " 
 
 41 1 told you before that I had spies who watched both you 
 and the pacha. I employ them because I love and wish to 
 protect my Mohammed ! " He placed his lips close to his ear, 
 and whispered : " To protect you and the white dove that has 
 sought safety in your bosom. Be still ! Do not deny me this 
 favor ! Consider that your happiness is also that of your 
 friend, and that he watches over you when you are imprudent 
 in the rashness of your overflowing bliss. Listen, Moham- 
 med ! You went down to the sea-shore, to the secret place 
 among the cliffs, known only to you and me ! Do you not 
 remember the time when, filled with anxiety on your account, 
 we were seeking you in that vicinity, and Mr. Lion saw you
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 193 
 
 creep out of a crevice in the rocks ? You afterward pointed 
 out to me the place to which it led, and " 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, mention to no one that there is a cave 
 there, and that you know the way to it ! " said Mohammed, 
 anxiously. 
 
 u Did I not tell you that I was watching over you ? " said 
 his friend, gently. " No one shall hear of it, only be careful 
 yourself that no one sees you enter it. You are surrounded 
 by spies. Cousrouf Pacha is called away, and the ship lies in 
 the harbor awaiting him. And do you know what he told the 
 captain who asked him if he would sail to-day ? He replied : 
 ' It is uncertain, it depends on circumstances not entirely with- 
 in my control.' Do you know what that means? He will 
 not sail until he has discovered and punished Masa, the run- 
 away slave, as he calls her. Do you know the nature of the 
 punishment administered to runaway female slaves, and to 
 women who have been guilty of infidelity to their masters ? " 
 
 Mohammed shuddered. "By Allah, Osman, you do not 
 mean to say that the pacha would carry out here, with us, 
 where the cruel laws of the harem are unknown, the punish- 
 ment administered to runaway female slaves among the 
 Turks ? " 
 
 Osman nodded in assent. " You must know, Mohammed, 
 that the commander, now fully restored to the favor of the 
 imperial majesty, in Stamboul, has the right, wherever he may 
 be, to punish his slaves, that is, his property, as he pleases. 
 To save her father, Masa made herself his property. We, my 
 father and I, were witnesses, when she received the money, 
 and when he said to her : ' Here is the money you asked me 
 for ! I give it gladly, but you know what I give it for, and 
 you have agreed to the bargain ! ' " 
 
 " O unhappy woman ! " groaned Mohammed. 
 
 " Be still, my Mohammed ! " said Osman, in warning tones. 
 " Be on your guard ! You are beset with spies, for these eu- 
 nuchs are battling for their lives. If they have not restored 
 Masa alive to their master in a week, their heads fall ; he has 
 sworn this, and they know he will keep his word. They are 
 cunning, and have sharp eyes. Mohammed, if you can avoid 
 it, do not go down into the grotto to-day. Every thing de-
 
 194: MOHAMMED A LI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 pends on deceiving the spies and putting them on a false track. 
 Therefore, pass the night in your own house." 
 
 " Impossible ! quite impossible ! " said Mohammed, his eyes 
 kindling at the thought of his love. " It cannot be, even if it 
 should cost my heart's blood ! I cannot remain in my house. " 
 
 " Then remain with me. Do so for her sake. I tell you 
 your white dove is in danger ! I am better informed than the 
 rest, for I have in my service a spy, a good angel, whose eyes 
 rest neither by day nor night, and whose ears hear every thing- 
 that concerns Mohammed Ali." 
 
 " And who is this angel ? " asked Mohammed. 
 
 "You know her well," said Osman. "It is Marina, my 
 dear cousin. She often goes into the pacha's harem, and has 
 formed the acquaintance of two of the young women, who tell 
 her a great many things in their thoughtlessness. Nothing 
 escapes Marina's ear, for I will confess, my friend, that she 
 loves the young boulouk hashi, and is ready to separate her- 
 self from her jealous husband on his account. But I candidly 
 told her that he did not love her, and that she must bury her 
 wishes. She wept long, Mohammed, but when she had dried 
 her eyes, she said she loved him so dearly that she would do 
 all that lay in her power to secure his happiness, and that she 
 would watch over him as his friend." 
 
 "She is a noble woman," said Mohammed. "Bear my 
 greeting to her, but I pray you tell her nothing more concern- 
 ing me." 
 
 " You may rest assured," said Osman. " We do not confide 
 our dearest secrets to women, for we are not always certain of 
 their silence. She knows nothing, except that the pacha is 
 your enemy, and that the latter has told these women that he 
 is seeking an opportunity to destroy you. You have often of- 
 fended him with your hasty words and threatening manner, 
 and Cousrouf Pacha is not the man to pardon any offence. 
 Marina is well aware of this, and therefore observes and lis- 
 tens to everything." 
 
 " Does Cousrouf Pacha know that there is any connection 
 between me and Masa ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is a close observer, and, on the morning of the 
 flight, he read in your countenance, as I also did, that there
 
 THE TRIPLE OATH. 
 
 was no happier man in Cavalla than Mohammed Ali. But 
 yesterday his countenance was gloomy, to-day it is radiant. 
 Cousrouf Pacha did not fail to divine the cause of this sudden 
 transformation. Therefore be on your guard, my friend, and 
 wait until it is dark and all are asleep before you go to your 
 cave." 
 
 " I will do so ; I will be careful, Osman I swear it. Ac- 
 cept my warmest thanks for your care and watchfulness. 
 Allah will some day enable me to prove my gratitude, and 
 will also permit you to be a witness of your friend's happiness. 
 And now, farewell, and to morrow, if it be Allah's will, I shall 
 retui'n to you in joyousness and safety." 
 
 " May Allah grant it ! " said Osman. " Allah be with you, 
 and the prophet illumine your heart ! One thing more, my 
 Mohammed : Lovers, it is said, are forgetful ; the warning 
 voice easily escapes their hearing, and with open eyes they 
 dream blissful dreams which make them oblivious of reality. 
 It may therefore be well to arouse them sometimes, and I will 
 try to awaken my dear dreamer. If you hear the report of a 
 pistol in the night, consider that it is Osman warning you to 
 be on your guard. But if two other shots soon after follow 
 the first, this signal shall announce that danger threatens, and 
 that I am calling you. In that case, come to me at once, no 
 matter what time of night it may be. I shall await you. 
 Now you may go, my friend, and Allah be with you I " 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 THE TRIPLE OATH. 
 
 "WE must assure his safety," murmured Osman, as he 
 looked after his friend, who was hastily leaving the garden. 
 " His life must at least be sacred, and I will go at once with 
 my father to Cousrouf Pacha. It is a sacrifice, for I hate this 
 proud, overbearing man. He seems to consider himself as 
 conferring a favor when he condescends to accept our hospi- 
 tality. I hate him ! Yet I will humiliate myself for my
 
 196 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 friend's sake, and play the humble and devoted servant. I 
 shall find strength to do so, for it is for Mohammed and his 
 white dove. Yes, I will go with my father to the pacha's 
 apartments." 
 
 A quarter of an hour later Tschorbadji Hassan, with a 
 startled and sorrowful expression of countenance entered the 
 room where Cousrouf Pacha lay reclining on his soft cush- 
 ions, dreamily smoking his chibouque. 
 
 u Is it, then, really true ? The whole house is filled with 
 dismay and regret. Is it true that you intend leaving us to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 "Perhaps," replied the pacha, composedly, rising slowly 
 from his cushions to quiet the governor, with haughty con- 
 descension. 
 
 " So soon ? Then it is indeed true ? We had heard so, but 
 we could not and would not believe it. We love you so dear- 
 ly that we shall unwillingly see you depart. Even my son, 
 my poor sick Osman, who cannot walk up a stairway because 
 of his weakness, has requested that he may be permitted to 
 come in person to take leave of you, and to beg that you will 
 remember and be gracious to him in the future also. Will 
 your excellency permit his servants to bring him in ?" 
 
 Cousrouf Pacha made no reply, but arose, walked hastily 
 to the door, opened it himself, and stepped out to Osman, who 
 lay on the couch, beside which stood the slaves who had 
 brought him up. 
 
 " Osman, I thank you for this proof of your friendly con- 
 sideration. Take hold now, ye dogs, and bear your master 
 into the room ! " 
 
 He walked beside the couch while the slaves bore it into 
 the room, and deposited it, at his command, beside his own 
 cushions. 
 
 " Now come, too, tschorbadji, and seat yourself at our side, 
 and let us smoke the chibouque together for the last time." 
 
 "The pipe of peace, Cousrouf Pacha, as the savages do 
 when seated together for the last time in their wigwam," said 
 Osman, smiling. 
 
 The pacha cast a searching glance at him. 
 
 " Tschorbadji, you have a very learned son. I know noth-
 
 THE TKIPLE OATH. 
 
 197 
 
 ing of such things, have never heard of them. Who smoke 
 the pipe of peace ? " 
 
 |'The savages in America, when they become reconciled to 
 their enemies, and receive them in their wigwam." 
 
 " But that has no application to us. In the first place, we 
 are not savages, but very respectable and considerable people ; 
 and secondly, I trust I am not receiving enemies here, with 
 whom it is necessary to smoke the pipe of peace." 
 
 " Certainly not, but very faithful friends and devoted serv- 
 ants, who have come to bid you a last farewell." 
 
 " You are right, tschorbadji, a last farewell, I trust," said 
 the pacha, laughing. " For (and forgive me for saying so) it 
 is horribly dull here in your city of Cavalla. Your revolu- 
 tionary fishermen and the rest of the rabble here would make 
 my life intolerable. I admire you, tschorbadji, for having the 
 courage to bear it and particularly you, my dear Osman. 
 You should endeavor to obtain some position in Stamboul. 
 There you would recover your health ; the rude sea air here 
 is assuredly injurious to your weak lungs. " 
 
 " I wish he would do so," said the tschorbadji, with a sigh. 
 "You are certainly right, the keen sea air and the rough 
 storms that often surge down from the mountains are injuri- 
 ous to my son, but it is different in Stamboul, where one is pro- 
 tected from the surrounding mountains. I wish he would go 
 to Stamboul, and that you would assist him in obtaining a 
 suitable position there." 
 
 "Father," replied Osman, gently, "I will not separate my- 
 self from you. Wherever you are there will I remain, for we 
 two are inseparable." 
 
 " Then a better place must be found for your father, Os- 
 man." 
 
 " If that could be, excellency, I should be happy indeed ! " 
 cried the governor. 
 
 " I am under obligations to you. tschorbadji," observed the 
 pacha, bowing haughtily. " I am really greatly in your debt. 
 With all my servants I have been your guest for three years, 
 and I vainly urged you to accept payment. Indeed, I hardly 
 dared speak of it to the wealthy and distinguished tschorbadji, 
 and it was not fitting to attempt to remunerate him. But yet,
 
 198 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 I assure you, this weight of gratitude rests heavily on me. I 
 have accepted your hospitality without recompense for these 
 three long years. Now, however, tschorbadji, now that Cous- 
 rouf Pacha is about to return to Stamboul, he can at last repay 
 this burden of gratitude and debt. You are my friend, and I 
 now beg you to tell me of something I can do for you. Cous- 
 rouf Pacha now has power and influence which he will exert 
 for those he loves. Therefore I entreat you, tschorbadji, ac- 
 quaint me with your wishes." 
 
 " I have no other wishes than those of my son. They call 
 me here an affectionate father, and mention me as an exam- 
 ple of passionate paternal love, and they are right. My Os- 
 man is every thing to me ; he is my wife, child, sister, friend, 
 comrade, my all. What Osman wishes that is my wish also. 
 Therefore, if it so pleases you, transfer your gracious favor to 
 my son, and grant his request, if he has one to prefer." 
 
 "I swear by my beard, by Allah, and by the prophet, if 
 Osman expresses a wish, I will grant it certainly and surely. 
 I repeat my triple oath, and call Allah to witness it. What 
 he requests I will grant ! " 
 
 "You have heard this oath, father, and Allah has heard it, 
 too," said Osman, solemnly rising from his couch and turn- 
 ing the gaze of his large luminous eyes full on the pacha's 
 countenance. " I have a wish, a great, a cherished wish." 
 
 " And can I grant it ? " 
 
 " You can if you will." 
 
 " Certainly I will, for I am now bound by the triple oath. 
 It is sacred to every Moslem, and sacred to me at all times. 
 So speak, Osman, and I will grant what you request." 
 
 Osman rose from his seat, and the pale, weak youth stood 
 there with so solemn an expression that the tschorbadji and 
 the pacha involuntarily arose from their cushions. 
 
 " Cousrouf Pacha, hear my wish : I require, wish, and ex- 
 pect of you, that you hold sacred, that is, that you neither 
 personally, nor through any one else, insult or injure the per- 
 son of my friend Mohammed Ali, the only being I love beside 
 my father." 
 
 The pacha regarded him with a long, gloomy, threatening 
 look, and made no reply. Osman read in his face the strug-
 
 THE TRIPLE OATH. 199 
 
 gle that was raging in his soul, and continued in gentle 
 tones : 
 
 " Cousrouf Pacha, look at me. I am a frail reed, liable to 
 be thrown to the ground by every breath of wind. ' I am a 
 poor blade of grass upon the sea-shore, liable to be swept to 
 destruction by each wave. Oh, grant me this request, in or- 
 der that, while the sun still shines for me, I may enjoy the 
 last hours of my existence in peace ! " 
 
 " Yes, do so, mighty pacha," cried the tschorbadji, bursting 
 into tears, and falling upon his knees with folded hands. 
 " Cousrouf Pacha, see me here at your feet, and grant my son's 
 request in order that he may live. I know that he loves Mo- 
 hammed Ali, that he loves him even more than his father. 
 He fears that his friend is in danger through you ! " 
 
 " And why do you fear this, Osman ? " asked the pacha, 
 slowly and angrily. 
 
 "I fear it," replied Osman, softly, "because I well know 
 that Mohammed has often offended you. He is still so young 
 and impetuous, and the consciousness of his poverty and ob- 
 scure descent burdens his soul and irritates him, in the presence 
 of your greatness and power." 
 
 "And yet he dares, in his littleness, to meet me with 
 haughty words and to look at me as though he were my equal ! 
 Should the boy not step respectfully aside, and bow his head 
 in humility, when he sees me ? You are right, Osman, I hate 
 this proud, obstinate lad ! " 
 
 " I have uttered my only wish," said Osman, gently. " You 
 will grant it, for I have your triple oath. I repeat my wish 
 once more : Cousrouf Pacha, protect and spare my friend Mo- 
 hammed Ali ; swear that no harm shall be done him, either 
 by you or by your servants. Let no wicked hand seek his 
 life, neither by poison, by weapons, nor by any other means. 
 Let him go his way in peace. By the triple oath which you 
 liave sworn, I conjure you to grant this wish." 
 
 The pacha regarded him long and gloomily, and then bowed 
 his head slowly. 
 
 " I swore the triple oath, and Cousrouf Pacha has never yet 
 broken his word. Your wish is accorded ; the life of this lad 
 shall be sacred to me henceforth ; no hair of his head shall be
 
 200 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 injured ; his life shall not be sought either by poison, by dag- 
 ger, or by other means ; he may go his way in peace, but woe 
 to him if we should meet elsewhere than here, in Cavalla, 
 where I honor my host and my oath ! Be assured now and 
 fear nothing. Mohammed Ali's life is sacred to me ; I swear 
 it!" 
 
 " I am content, and I thank you. You have made me hap- 
 pier than I have been for a long time. I do not deny that 
 Mohammed has sometimes deserved to be reprimanded for his 
 conduct, but, I also repeat, he is still so young, his heart so 
 fiery, his soul so full of ardor and nobility. He will yet learn 
 to conform to the customs of the world." 
 
 " I sincerely hope he may," said the pacha, quietly. " As 
 yet he has, however, not learned it ; he should come to Stam- 
 boul there he would be taught to bend his proud neck. Tell 
 me, Osman, have I now paid off the debt of gratitude that 
 rested on my shoulders ? " 
 
 " You have now transferred it to our shoulders," exclaimed 
 the tschorbadji, ardently. ''See how happy my Osman 
 looks ; how his countenance is wreathed in smiles ! There is 
 no trace of sorrow or pain in his features now ; joy is restor- 
 ing him to health ; and I owe this to you, and shall continue 
 to thank you for it, when you are no longer here. We wish 
 you all happiness ! Our friend and benefactor, the great gen- 
 eral, Cousrouf Pacha, will in the future be called on to per- 
 form great things, and the report of his glory and power wiU 
 reach us here on our peninsula." 
 
 " I hope it may," said the pacha, softly, as he proudly in- 
 clined his head. " Yes, I hope it may. My glory will re- 
 sound throughout the world, and may, perhaps, be trumpeted 
 forth by the virgin Fame, so favorable to me, even here in 
 this rocky nest. The imperial majesty in Stamboul has elected 
 me to great things, and Allah will permit me to live to fulfil 
 them." 
 
 " He will certainly do so," protested the governor. " And 
 now, my son, with his excellency's permission, I will call the 
 slaves, and have you carried down again. I am afraid we are 
 trespassing on valuable time, as his excellency will have many 
 things to attend to."
 
 THE TRIPLE OATH. 201 
 
 The pacha, assented to this by his silence, and the governor 
 hastened to call the slaves, that they might bear his son down 
 into the garden. 
 
 The pacha pressed Osman 's hand once more, assured him 
 of his friendship, and promised him solemnly that Mohammed 
 Ali need no longer be fearful and anxious. 
 
 '' And he is not," cried Osman, quickly ; " he fears noth- 
 ing.'' 
 
 "Be still, my son," exclaimed the governor, interrupting 
 him hastily ; " his excellency only means that he will be con- 
 siderate with him, and that you will have nothing to fear on 
 Mohammed's account. And now, come, let us go." 
 
 He then bowed profoundly to the pacha, and walked out 
 beside the couch on which the slaves were carrying his son. 
 
 The pacha's countenance grew still darker when the door 
 had closed behind father and son. 
 
 " This Osman is shrewd," he murmured to himself. u He 
 knows how to divine one's thoughts. Achmed and Ali, come 
 in!" 
 
 The eunuchs glided in through the side-entrance, and re- 
 mained standing near the door, their heads profoundly in- 
 clined. He slowly raised his hand, and beckoned to them to 
 come nearer. 
 
 " What progress have you made in your search ? " 
 
 The eunuchs threw themselves on the floor, profound hu- 
 miliation depicted on their faces. 
 
 " Mighty and gracious master ! we have been tardy slaves, 
 and humbly acknowledge our fault ; we will do all we can to 
 redeem it, and we hope soon to bring better news. Yes, we 
 hope, gracious master, that we shall soon be able to announce 
 what our master desires to know.'' 
 
 " Then you have a trace ? " said the pacha, his countenance 
 lighting up with joy. 
 
 " Yes. master, as yet only a trace ; but we hope soon to 
 have certainty." 
 
 " Good, I will inquire no further. But of one thing I must 
 remind you : three days have already passed, within the next 
 four days you will have brought me the runaway slave or 
 your heads fall." 
 14
 
 202 MOHAMMED ALI AND IIIS HOUSE. 
 
 " O gracious master, we hope to do so much sooner ! " 
 
 " It is well," said the pacha, with a slight inclination of his 
 haughty head. " And now listen further : spread the report 
 of my departure to-morrow morning ; say that Cousrouf Pa- 
 cha will perhaps depart this evening, with his harem and his 
 servants, to return no more." 
 
 "It shall be as our gracious master commands," said the 
 two eunuchs. 
 
 " You know Mohammed Ali, the new boulouk bashi ? " 
 
 " Yes, excellency, we know him." 
 
 " Let no one dare do him a bodily injury. Look down 
 humbly when you pass him, and, if he insults you with word 
 or look, step nevertheless respectfully aside. Let none of you 
 dare to touch him to injure a hair of his head, or to seek his 
 life with poison, the dagger, or any other weapon. Let the 
 life of Mohammed Ali, the new boulouk bashi, be sacred to 
 you all. Have you heard ? " 
 
 "We have heard, mighty master." 
 
 With an impatient gesture he dismissed them, and he con- 
 tinued to walk to and fro in his room long after they had gone 
 out. His brow is dark, evil thoughts fill his breast. 
 
 " I have sworn the triple oath, and I must keep it. I no 
 longer threaten him personally. Woe to him if my suspicion 
 proves true, and Masa has found an asylum and protection 
 with him ! I will keep my word ! No hair of Mohammed's 
 head shall be injured, but I will punish him through her ; for 
 truly, if he loves her, such punishment will be harder than 
 any thing I could do to him personally. The eunuchs say 
 they are on her track, and it must be so, or they would not 
 dare to say it. And these bloodhounds, being once on the 
 track, are sure to catch their prey ! " 
 
 The eunuchs had faithfully obeyed their master's command, 
 and hardly had an hour elapsed when all Praousta knew that 
 Cousrouf Pacha was on the point of taking his departure from 
 the peninsula, to return no more. 
 
 They were also informed that a ship had come to convey 
 him back to Stamboul, where the grand-sultan was to recom- 
 pense him for his long exile with power, magnificence, and 
 honors. The matter was much discussed, and they whisper-
 
 THE TRIPLE OATH. 203 
 
 ingly confessed to each other that they would be well pleased 
 to know that the proud man, who was the cause of so much 
 unhappiness, had taken his departure. 
 
 Was it not on his account that the double tax had been im- 
 posed on the people ? Had not the extra expenditure been in- 
 curred on his account ? True, the tschorbadji had attempted to 
 deny this, but the additional expense was nevertheless clearly 
 owing to the pacha's presence La Cavalla. Moreover, the sad 
 story of the unhappy Masa, who had chosen to die rather than 
 become a slave, was now known. Yes, she had taken her own 
 life of that, no one now entertained a doubt. She had as- 
 suredly thrown herself from the cliffs into the sea. Some 
 boys, who were engaged at night in setting out nets, had seen 
 a white figure alone on the Ear of Bucephalus. 
 
 That white figure was certainly Masa. She had thrown 
 herself into the sea in order that she, the free daughter of the 
 sheik, might not be compelled to become a slave and enter the 
 harem of the stranger. They had sought for the body of the 
 poor girl on the shore and among the cliffs. The sea had, 
 however, been stormy throughout the entire day, and the surg- 
 ing waves must have borne her away into the depths, where 
 she had become a welcome prey to the greedy shark. No- 
 where a trace of her ; she is surely dead. 
 
 The complaints and lamentations of the sheik are also si- 
 lenced he reclines motionless on his cushions. Grief and anx- 
 iety have made him helpless, and chained him to his couch. 
 He suffers in silence, and his friends hope that death will soon 
 release him from his misery. 
 
 And this overbearing stranger, Cousrouf Pacha, is to blame 
 for all this ! 
 
 He gave himself the appearance of graciously making the 
 fishermen a present of the money to pay the double tax. But 
 he had deceived them. Oh, had they but known that Masa 
 had sold herself for this money, they never would have ac- 
 cepted it ! They therefore hate this haughty stranger, and 
 are glad that he is about to leave their coast forever. 
 
 The ship still lies quietly at anchor, her streamers flutter 
 gayly in the air, her sides are hung with bright-colored carpets, 
 and garlands of flowers are entwined with her rigging. The
 
 204 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 ship presents a brilliant spectacle, and it may well be that the 
 pacha is to embark this very evening. But no ! Night sinks 
 down, and all remains dark on board the ship, which casts a 
 huge shadow across the waves. No, Cousrouf Pacha will 
 certainly not embark this evening. The night is dark, and all 
 is still in Praousta and on the sea-shore. 
 
 And who would care to be up and abroad at this late hour ! 
 Whoever has a hut and a bed, remains at home and does not 
 go out into the night. No, no one is abroad. 
 
 But is not that the sound of footsteps that now breaks in 
 upon the stillness of the night ? 
 
 A dark shadow is gliding along among the cliffs on the 
 shore. Who can say that it is a human being ! No star sheds 
 its light on his path the moon is obscured behind dark clouds. 
 It is perhaps an eagle that has been cast down by the storm, 
 and is now wearOy winging its flight across the cliffs. Who 
 can say that it is a man that is gliding among the cliffs ? No 
 one sees him ; no one can betray him. The shadow now 
 stands still for a moment, and for a single moment the moon 
 breaks forth from behind the dark clouds. It sees the figure, 
 it sees the man who stands there on a rock, his large, luminous 
 eyes gazing anxiously, suspiciously about him, as though he 
 feared betrayal. 
 
 The kindly moon has permitted him to take a look at the 
 landscape round about him, and to assure .him there is no one 
 in the vicinity to betray him. All is at rest, he alone is awake 
 and abroad. The moon has done enough ; it glides behind a 
 dark cloud and conceals itself again. 
 
 The waves murmur at the feet of him who has been stand- 
 ing there listening, and he now glides down from the cliff to 
 the opening in the rock. He creeps in at this opening, and on 
 through the narrow passage to the cave, until he can stand up- 
 right. He now utters a cry, and his cry is answered in the 
 distance. He stands still and leans against the wall of the 
 cave, overwhelmed either with anxiety or happiness. It is 
 with happiness, for he will find her : she has answered him.
 
 THE PARADISE UNDER THE EARTH. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE PARADISE UNDER THE EARTH. 
 
 THEY rest heart to heart for a moment, and then Moham- 
 med sinks down on his knees, and kisses the hem of her dress 
 and her little feet, and she bows down to him and whispers in 
 his ear words which he hardly understands, and yet each of 
 them resounds in his soul like heavenly music. 
 
 " these little feet ! They were not created to come in 
 contact with the earth, and to be wounded by thorns. You 
 should tread on flowers only, and flutter from rose to rose as 
 the butterfly from flower to flower. Alas, and yet your home 
 is now a dark cave ! Masa, it tortures me to see you here, un- 
 der the earth and in darkness." 
 
 " Is it then dark here ? " asked she, in her sweet voice. " I 
 thought we had the light of the stars here ! Yes, look there, 
 I am right ; look there ! " She raised her arm and pointed 
 upward to the opening in the roof of the cave through which 
 the heavens looked down. *' See, Mohammed, there are the 
 stars, there are the heavens. Let us seat ourselves on this 
 beautiful spot." 
 
 " You are right, Masa. There is starlight in this cave, al- 
 though clouds obscure the heavens. Yes, here in our paradise 
 we are elevated above all earthly care ; here is our heaven, 
 and you are the revelation of Allah. O Masa, let me sink 
 down before you in adoration, kiss the hem of your garment, 
 and entreat your forgiveness ! " 
 
 " My forgiveness ? " said she, nestling her little head on his 
 breast, as they sat side by side on the cushions brought here 
 by Mohammed's care, and covered with Persian carpets. '' My 
 forgiveness, and for what ? " 
 
 " Because I thought ill of you, Masa ; because, while I lay 
 in anguish up yonder on the rock the other day, I accused you 
 in my senseless anger, and cursed my love for you. I thought 
 you were a woman like all other women, and yet you are 
 beautiful and fair and pure, like a houri of paradise. I wished 
 to tear you from my heart as we tear weeds from a flower-
 
 206 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 garden, and my heart was to be henceforth accessible only to 
 ambition and glory ; and now I know that all this is vain and 
 empty. Mohammed no longer has aspirations after glory and 
 renown ; Mohammed no longer knows that wreaths of fame 
 are twined and that laurels bloom without in the world ; Mo- 
 hammed only knows that this is paradise, and that heaven's 
 fairest flower blooms here at his side. I feel your breath, my 
 flower, I inhale fragrance from your lips, and see the starlight 
 in your eyes, though none shines in upon us from the dark 
 world without. I am with you, and you with me. Oh, let 
 me rest at your side, and forget the world, and may it forget 
 us too ! " 
 
 " I do not understand your words," murmured she. " You 
 are wise and learned, and I am only a poor girl, who has no 
 words to express her thoughts, and hardly thoughts for that 
 which she feels. I do know, however, that I am in paradise, 
 and Allah forbid that my feet should bear me out into the 
 world again ! Oh, I never wish to see it again, Mohammed. 
 And beautiful it would be, it seems to me, to slumber here in 
 sweet tranquillity, never to awake again." 
 
 " Oh, it were heavenly, my sweet dove," murmured he, 
 pressing her to his heart, " to fall into a sweet slumber here, 
 and to journey hence, heavenward, to awaken in paradise. I 
 would we had nothing more to do with the world ; yet, swear 
 to me, Masa, that when the world holds us in its embrace again, 
 you will love me eternally say eternally ! " 
 
 " What does eternally mean ? " asked she. softly. " I do 
 not know what eternally means. All life is a single day. At 
 sunrise this morning I felt that I loved you, and now do you 
 suppose that Masa is so forgetful a child that she cannot pre- 
 serve what she feels in her heart for a single day until the 
 sun sets in the evening ? " 
 
 " Yes, Masa, you are right ! " exclaimed Mohammed, in 
 tones of enthusiasm. " Life is as a single day. When the sun 
 sets, night comes, and we sink down and dream, and in our 
 dream we are conscious only of the love of the blissful day. 
 Yes, life is but a day, and may this day end blissfully for us 
 as it began ! It is dark around us, and I cannot see you. But 
 look, Allah is kind ; he sends us his light. The moon has
 
 THE PARADISE UNDER THE EARTH. 207 
 
 broken forth from behind the clouds, and it shines into our 
 grotto and illumines your fair face. The moon and the stars 
 love you, Masa ; yet they shall not tear you from me. No r 
 Masa must remain with me, that my life may not end in dark- 
 ness and misery, that I may be happy. O good moon, mes- 
 senger of the prophet, with your brilliancy you light up the 
 countenance of my houri. Journey on in your course, good 
 moon, and tell the houris and the angels above that one of 
 their sisters has remained here in the paradise grotto, and that 
 this houri is mine ; mine in the name of Heaven." 
 
 He pressed her to his heart and laid his head in her lap. 
 Both were silent. 
 
 Suddenly a loud report resounded through the stillness of 
 the night. Mohammed released himself from her arms, and 
 sprang in terror to his feet. 
 
 " That was the report of a pistol-shot. Alas ! it awakens 
 me from my dreams. All bliss is at an end, the earth is again 
 here, and calls me from paradise." 
 
 " You will leave me, Mohammed ! " cried she, rising from 
 her cushion. "Mohammed, you intend to leave me to- 
 night ? " 
 
 " O Masa, I must ! Do not tremble, my white dove ; all 
 our troubles and anxieties will soon be at an end. That re- 
 port was the signal that Cousrouf Pacha is preparing to de- 
 part." 
 
 "Is it then really true?" asked Masa, her countenance 
 beaming with delight. " The pacha takes his departure and 
 restores me to freedom ! " 
 
 " It is true," said Mohammed. " He was to have embarked 
 yesterday evening, and who knows but that when the sun 
 rises the ship will long since have sailed out of the harbor. 
 Yet we must be cautious. It might be only a pretence, to lull 
 us into false security. It is for this reason, Masa, that I dare 
 not pass the night here. His spies, who follow and observe 
 me everywhere, might announce to him that Mohammed Ali 
 had again passed the night elsewhere than in his house. Let 
 us be cautious while misfortune with its black pinions still 
 hovers over us. Afterward the sun will shine for us. Con- 
 sider this, Masa, and I will conduct you out into life again as
 
 203 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 soon as he shall have left the harbor. The whole earth shall 
 then be our paradise. Let us, therefore, wait and be patient." 
 
 She stood there thoughtfully ; she, too, was awakened 
 from her dream, and life with its cares and anxieties had laid 
 its hold on her. 
 
 " How is my father ? " asked she, anxiously. " O Moham- 
 med, I have forgotten him and his sufferings since you have 
 been with me. You are silent. He is dead. Oh, grief for his 
 daughter has killed my good father ! " 
 
 " No, Masa ! he is not dead, but he is ill. I do not deny it, 
 grief kas gnawed at his heart. Therefore, let us hope that our 
 happiness will restore him to health. And to-morrow he will 
 behold our happiness when I bring you to him, for you will 
 be free, Masa, as soon as the ship has sailed." 
 
 " I shall never be free,*' she cried out, aloud. '" He has pur- 
 chased me, and I shall remain his property. O Mohammed, my 
 soul shudders, for I am forsworn before Allah. By Allah and 
 the spirit of my mother have I sworn that I would return and 
 restore to him his property. I am forsworn, and therefore, Mo- 
 hammed, when you leave me, the ghius come and nutter about 
 me, pursuing me everywhere and whispering in my ear : l You 
 are lost and damned, for you have forsworn yourself by the 
 spirit of your mother.' And then I fall on my knees and pray 
 to the welis to guard and protect me in my terror and anxiety. 
 O Mohammed, when you are here I am in paradise ; but when 
 you are away, I feel myself in hell ! Therefore, remain with 
 me. Do not leave me here in the dark night. See, the stars 
 are all hidden, and the moon is covered with clouds. Oh, I 
 was wrong when I said there was no night. When you are 
 with me, the sun shines, though it be night without. But 
 when you are not with me, it is dark night, even though the 
 sun be shining without. Do not leave me alone, remain with 
 your Masa, my Mohammed ; stay, stay, at least to-night." 
 
 Can he resist such sweet entreaty ? Can he tear himself 
 from the fair arms that are entwined about him and draw him 
 back, and rush out into the night ? Can he speak of prudence 
 and worldly wisdom, while she whispers such words to him 
 in her sweet voice ? 
 
 " Let come what will in the world without, let all be over-
 
 THE PARADISE UNDER THE EARTH. 209 
 
 whelmed in ruin, love is here, paradise is open, and you, Masa, 
 are its angel-occupant. Let the world pass away ; let the firm 
 rocks be shattered ; let the sea swallow all and leave but a 
 desert of water about us, I am content, Masa, to embark with 
 you in a little boat, you and I alone, to ride over the waves 
 and listen to the melodies which the naiads sing to us from 
 the deep, and to what the voice of the wind proclaims. O my 
 houri, alone with you in the boat, what care I for the world, 
 for magnificence and renown ? Let others seek them, they 
 are welcome. And though Death with his gloomy visage 
 stood at the entrance of this grotto ready to destroy me, what 
 care I ? And though your father die and men bury him, what 
 care we ? We live and we love." 
 
 He pressed her passionately to his heart. But now it was 
 she who drew him back to the world, to reality. 
 
 " No, Mohammed, my father must not die. Go to him, step 
 to his bedside and say to him : ' Pray and wait. When the 
 gloomy stranger who has purchased your Masa and made her 
 his property shall have embarked in his ship and sailed, your 
 daughter will return to you in love and happiness. Wait, 
 father. Do not join my dear mother; wait for your Masa.' 
 Speak to him thus, and I know he will live to see his Masa 
 again. No, I am not afraid. The ghins will not enter if Masa 
 kneels at the entrance and prays to the prophet who told men 
 that they were to love one another, and that love alone could 
 secure happiness. No, I am not afraid. And see, Mohammed, 
 day is breaking ; the sun will soon shine in upon me, and 
 then Masa will sing the song taught her by Djumeila that 
 speaks of love and stars. I am no longer afraid, Mohammed, 
 for I am your beloved, and the girl whom a hero has chosen 
 for his own ; how could she lack courage ? " 
 
 For the second time a loud report now resounded through- 
 out the cave. 
 
 "I know what that means," said Mohammed, anxiously. 
 " It is Osman warning me to be on my guard. ' I will give 
 you a signal when danger threatens,' whispered he, in my ear, 
 when we parted, 'that you may know that your friend is 
 watching over you in the night also.' Yes, I must go. But 
 listen, Masa : when I am gone, replace the stone I showed you
 
 210 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 yesterday, before the opening, and then go back into the cave 
 to the point where the passage turns, where no one can see 
 the entrance to the second cave. Remain there, and await the 
 return of him you love." 
 
 " I will do so, Mohammed. When you have gone, I will 
 push the stone before the entrance, and go back into the sec- 
 ond cave, where I will fall on my knees and pray to Allah 
 and his prophet until my beloved returns." 
 
 At this moment a third report resounded through the cave. 
 
 "Danger threatens Masa, I must away. We will soon be 
 free ; farewell until then, farewell ! Ah ! how pale you have 
 suddenly become ! Let me look at you once more, my 
 Masa ! " 
 
 He raises her in his arms and carries her to the opening, 
 and the moon is gracious and illumines her countenance, but 
 it also makes it deathly pale. 
 
 " O Masa, my white dove, how pale you are I Yet your 
 eyes are bright let me kiss them. And with this kiss I swear 
 I will love you eternally ! And now kiss me, too, and let this 
 kiss be the vow of your eternal love for me 1 " 
 
 She kissed him passionately. "I love you, Mohammed, 
 and you alone will I love on earth ! " 
 
 He looks at her tenderly, and shudders, for her counte- 
 nance is still deathly pale. 
 
 " I can no longer look upon your dear face, I cannot I " he 
 cries, in tones of anguish. " I have a dread foreboding that 
 I see you for the last time. Farewell, Masa, farewell ! Pray 
 for me, and for yourself, and for our love. Farewell, sweet 
 being, my white dove, farewell ! " 
 
 He folds her to his heart once more, and then away, away 
 out into the night. He still hears behind him the tones of 
 the sweet voice crying, " Farewell, farewell ! " 
 
 Then all is still, and he rushes on through the darkness to- 
 ward the stairway in the rock.
 
 BOOK in. 
 
 THE MAMELUKES. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 REVENGE. 
 
 THE night was mild and warm ; the sea rested in silent 
 majesty like a slumbering lion, and the wind seemed to hold 
 its breath in order that his repose might not be disturbed. To 
 be in the open air on such a night was good for the weak 
 breast of an invalid, and Osman's father was therefore not 
 surprised when his son expressed a desire to pass the night in 
 the garden pavilion, in preference to remaining in the close 
 apartments of the palace. He would be protected from wind 
 and rain by the roof of the pavilion, and from all other sources 
 of danger the two slaves that had been his faithful and devoted 
 servants from his earliest youth would guard him. The two 
 servants carried his cushions down into the garden, and Osman 
 now lay there, wrapped in his silken coverlet ; the two slaves 
 were crouched down at his side. They were still there when 
 the tschorbadji, before retiring for the night, came down to 
 see his son once more and bid him good-night ; and there 
 they remained until all the lights were extinguished in the 
 apartments of the tschorbadji as well as in those of the pacha. 
 Then, when all had become still, one of them stooped down 
 and addressed his master in low tones ; after they had carried 
 on a short, whispered conversation the slave arose and glided 
 noiselessly away toward the garden-wall, which formed no ob- 
 stacle to his progress as the faithful servant could climb like 
 a cat and he was soon on the other side. 
 
 Osman remained on his couch, conversing in low tones 
 with the other servant. Both were attentively observing the 
 
 (Ml)
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 pacha's harem, and it surprised them to see that lights were 
 being carried to and fro in the lower apartments at so late an 
 hour. 
 
 " Something extraordinary is surely taking place there," 
 murmured Osman, '' and we must be on our guard, and listen 
 to the slightest noise." 
 
 Hours passed, and the same activity was still being dis- 
 played in the harem ; and from time to time the attentive serv- 
 ant perceived shadows flitting up and down the avenue that 
 led to the harem. 
 
 Foosteps are now heard approaching. It is the slave Na 
 deg, and he comes swiftly to his master's couch, kneels down 
 and speaks to him for some time in low, earnest tones. Osman 
 rises from his cushions. 
 
 " The time has come, we must warn him, we must help him L 
 Be quick, both of you ! Jabad, hasten to the summit of the 
 rock. Here, take the pistol and give the signal agreed upon, 
 three shots fired at short intervals. But you, Nadeg, hasten 
 down to the mouth of the cave again, and when, aroused by 
 my shots, my friend comes out, call him, tell him I am await- 
 ing him, and bring him to me at once. Oh, I am anxious 
 on his account : be quick, that you may get there in 
 time ! " 
 
 The two walk stealthily and rapidly down the garden-path. 
 Osman listens to their retreating footsteps, and, as they die 
 away in the distance, he draws a breath of relief. They are 
 good, zealous servants, and will obey his instructions faith- 
 fully. He listens again eagerly, and again looks over toward 
 the harem, where he sees the lights still flitting about and 
 shadows passing the windows. 
 
 Osman's heart tells him that something unusual, something 
 that bodes no good to his friend, is going on there, and his 
 love gives strength to his poor, weak body. He rises from his 
 cushions ; his limbs are stiff, and his breast pains him, but he 
 is heedless of this. Cautiously he descends the steps into the 
 garden, and walks noiselessly down the pathway. He knows 
 that a high hedge separates the garden of the harem from the 
 rest of the park at the end of this path. Hitherto all have re- 
 spected this boundary, and no one has dared to cross it ; may
 
 REVENGE. 213 
 
 so 
 
 the good spirits pardon the young man for venturing to do __ 
 now ! He is in the garden of the harem. It is certainly dan- 
 gerous to enter it, and, if the eunuchs should discover him 
 there, they would seize him. But, fortunately, he is the tschor- 
 badji's son, and that will protect him. He is on his father's 
 property. He walks onward, no longer painfully; he no 
 longer feels that his breast hurts him ; he is only thinking of 
 his friend ; he can perhaps discover something for him, perhaps 
 do something for him. He now stands still and listens. In 
 the distance he hears the reports of the pistol. 
 
 " Ah, Mohammed is warned ! He has been aroused from 
 his sweet repose, and will come to me. " 
 
 But he must know what all this disturbance and running 
 about means. Osman has approached close to the harem, and 
 stands at the iron gate that opens into the court-yard. He 
 stands there for a moment and listens, and then crosses the 
 court-yard and looks toward the door in the wall that opens 
 into the street. All is still in the house, as in the yard ; but 
 now he hears a noise at the door that opens into the vestibule 
 of the building. It is opened, and two dark figures appear, 
 and descend the steps into the yard. They are carrying some- 
 thing ; it looks like a cot ; it is a cot covered with white 
 sheets, but it is empty. They carry it across the yard, and out 
 into the street. 
 
 He hears them lock the door from the outside ; hears the 
 murmuring of voices, and then all is again quiet. What was 
 the cot intended for ? What could it all mean ? 
 
 He listens, and looks around anxiously ; but all is still. 
 Perhaps his care and anxiety have been groundless ; perhaps 
 these are only things the servants are carrying to the ship to 
 prepare for Cousrouf's departure on the morrow. 
 
 He again listens awhile, and then returns through the gar- 
 den to the pavilion. Wearily he throws himself on his cush- 
 ions, and lies there, for a moment, with closed eyes. 
 
 Now he hears footsteps approaching. Who can it be ? he 
 asks in a low voice, and the two servants emerge from the 
 darkness, come to his side, and whisper something in his ear. 
 Osman draws a breath of relief. 
 
 " Allah be praised, he is coming, he is saved ! "
 
 214: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Yes, other footsteps are now rapidly approaching, and, in 
 a moment, Mohammed is at his friend's side. 
 
 " You called me, my friend, and here I am ! What has 
 happened ? " 
 
 " I do not know, Mohammed. It seems to he nothing, and 
 yet my heart was filled with care and anxiety on your ac- 
 count, and I could not resist the inclination to call you. Lis- 
 ten : Nadeg was among the cliffs not far from the entrance of 
 your cave, to which you came late at night. He was standing 
 guard there, but he was not alone." 
 
 " He was not alone ? What does that mean ? " asked Mo- 
 hammed, in dismay. 
 
 " Not alone ; for in the vicinity, hidden in the shadow of a 
 rock, stood two dark figures, and he heard them whispering 
 and telling each other that you were there, and that they were 
 now sure of their prey. When Nadeg had heard this, he re- 
 turned hastily to me, and told me of it. I then sent both serv- 
 ants out, the one to stand guard near the cave, the other to 
 the summit of the rock to fire the pistol, and give the warn- 
 ing signal. Nadeg found the two men still near the cave, ly- 
 ing in wait like panthers, and he saw that they were gradually 
 creeping nearer and nearer to the cave. In the meanwhile, I 
 had gone into the harem-garden, where I saw two eunuchs 
 carry a cot out into the street. Now you know all, and now 
 it seems to me that all is well. I was anxious on your ac- 
 count, fearing these men, who were lying in wait, might at- 
 tack and kill you. This was why I sent my servants out. 
 But now I am happy, for you are safe, and with me. I beg 
 you to stay with me until to-morrow ; stay here, that every 
 one may know where you have passed the night. Do not re- 
 fuse me. This is the last night of danger and anxiety. Cous- 
 rouf departs to-morrow, and then you will be safe." 
 
 " No, Osman, no, it is impossible ! " said Mohammed, who 
 could not himself account for the anxiety that made his heart 
 throb so wildly. " I thank you for your warning, and beg you 
 to let me have your pistol. Is it loaded ? " 
 
 u Yes," said Nadeg. " I loaded it again after firing." 
 
 " Yes, give it to him ! If you will not remain, Moham- 
 med, take the weapon, and, if I hear a shot, I shall know you
 
 REVENGE. 215 
 
 are attacked and in danger ; then I will wake my father, and 
 beg him to send the soldiers to your assistance. But stay with 
 me yet awhile, my friend ! " 
 
 " No, Osman, I can remain no longer. I must be off ! My 
 heart is filled with a sense of impending evil, with gloomy 
 forebodings." 
 
 " Then go, Mohammed, and may Allah bless and protect 
 you ! Oh, that this fearful night were at an end ! " 
 
 Mohammed hastens away down the garden path, and soon 
 disappears in the darkness. 
 
 u Stay with me, you good, faithful servants. Oh, how anx- 
 ious I am, how wildly my heart beats ! Yet I do not fear 
 for myself, but for my dear friend Mohammed. Pray to Al- 
 lah for grace and mercy ! Yes, let us all pray to Allah ! " 
 
 Mohammed rushes on through the night, down the stone 
 stairway. He flies with the speed of an arrow from rock to 
 rock. Now he is down by the cave. He looks behind him 
 once more. There is nothing to be seen, nowhere a human 
 figure. Nothing ! Osman must have been mistaken ; no one 
 observed him, no one was there ! He creeps through the fis- 
 sure in the cliff, to the inner grotto to the place where the pas- 
 sage becomes narrow, and where Masa was to have rolled the 
 stone before the opening. He feels for this stone to push it 
 back. But what does this mean? The stone is no longer 
 there, the cave is open ! 
 
 He recoils for a moment with terror. He then resolutely 
 creeps on through the opening. Masa must have forgotten it, 
 that is all ! He calls her no answer. 
 
 But he had told her to retire into the second grotto, and 
 await him there. There she will be, there she must be. 
 
 " Masa, where are you ? Masa, my white dove, Masa ! ' 
 
 All is still ; no answer comes, no voice replies in tender 
 greeting to his anxious and repeated call. 
 
 " Masa ! where are you, Masa ? " 
 
 The silence is profound. He utters a cry that resounds 
 fearfully through the cave. He gropes about in the darkness. 
 Then he turns again, and cries out loudly, but all is still as be- 
 fore. He goes back to the passage, and into the first grotto, 
 the one with the large opening in the roof, to the place where
 
 216 MOHAMMED ALI AND fflS HOUSE. 
 
 the sky can be seen. The clouds have disappeared, and the 
 moon sheds its soft light into the cave. 
 
 " Masa, are you asleep ? " he cries, as he kneels down be- 
 side the cushions. 
 
 But they are empty, and things are thrown about in disor- 
 der in the grotto. The moonlight shines brightly in the cave, 
 and shows that a terrible struggle has taken place here. The 
 carpets and cushions are thrown together confusedly ; frag- 
 ments of broken cups and saucers strew the ground, and 
 every thing is overturned. At last he must recognize the 
 fact. Masa is gone, he has been robbed of his Masa. 
 
 He sinks down upon the earth and cries in loud, heart- 
 rending tones : " Masa is gone ; the slave-dealer has recovered 
 his slave. Oh, horror, Masa is gone ! " He springs to his 
 feet, and rushes toward the entrance ; then he stands still 
 again, and cries in piercing tones that make the rocks rever- 
 berate : " Masa, where are you ? " No answer. It was thus 
 that her father had cried out a few days before : " Masa, where 
 are you ? " 
 
 Punishment has overtaken the undutiful daughter, and 
 him who had harbored her. 
 
 " Masa, where are you ? " For the second time, the ago- 
 nized voice of love resounded through the cave. Masa is gone. 
 
 Ah, where can she be ? All is still. A struggle has taken 
 place here. Hired assassins, perhaps robbers, have broken in- 
 to this paradise here beneath the earth that he considered so 
 secure. But nothing is secure from man ; cruel men have 
 broken into his sanctuary and desecrated his paradise. 
 
 He no longer groans and laments. He raises his clinched 
 fists, and swears by Allah that he will be revenged on the rob- 
 bers and murderers of his Masa. Suddenly he is seized from 
 behind, two arms encircle him like iron rings, and bind his 
 arms to his side. Another hand seizes the pistol he carries in 
 his girdle, and draws his sword from his scabbard. Moham- 
 med opens his lips to cry out. but a hand is laid on them, and 
 he is incapable of uttering a single tone. 
 
 " It would be vain to cry out, Mohammed Ali, young bou- 
 louk bashi. No one can hear you but we, and we are indiffer- 
 ent to your cries. Be quick, Aga, put the gag in his mouth
 
 REVENGE. 
 
 and bind the cloth over it. Let us finish our work ! Day is 
 breaking, and it must be done quickly ! Our master's orders 
 were to do it quickly." 
 
 Mohammed is securely bound and motionless. He is now 
 a mere package borne along by the eunuchs, but a package 
 that thinks, feels, and suffers. His eyes are wide open, and 
 stare up at his enemies with a fearful expression. He knows 
 he cannot pierce them through with his eyes, for they are not 
 daggers, and his hands are bound. But he swears that he will 
 have vengeance on his enemies, either above, before Allah's 
 throne, or here on earth already, if he is permitted to live. 
 He has no fear for himself, for his own life. For that he 
 cares not. He cares only for Masa, he thinks only of her, and 
 his roving glance seeks her anxiously. 
 
 He is being borne to the sea-shore. Do they intend to cast 
 him into the waves ? Let it be so. Death is sweet, divine, 
 when one has lost all on earth. And he feels that all, that 
 his Masa, is lost. 
 
 If she is lost to him, what further need of the stars in 
 heaven, of the moonlight, of the bright sunshine ? Then all 
 is darkness and desolation. Will they kill him ? Will they 
 cast him into the sea ? 
 
 The waves will murmuringly receive him, and consign him 
 to their depths. There he will rest tranquilly. They have 
 now reached the beach, and the eunuchs lay him down on the 
 sand ; not carelessly as a package is thrown down, but cau- 
 tiously and gently. 
 
 " Remember, Aga," murmured one to the other, " that we 
 have orders not to injure a hair of his head, or to cause him 
 the slightest pain. We will lay him down here, here he can 
 rest easily, and can raise his head and see. The eyes of the 
 young boulouk bashi, accustomed as they are to the dark, will 
 easily be able to detect who it is that approaches from over 
 there." And the eunuch raised his hand and pointed toward 
 the path that led to Cavalla. 
 
 Yes, his eyes are accustomed to the dark, and he does see 
 figures advancing from that direction. Not one or two, but a 
 crowd of figures are approaching, and in their midst he sees 
 something white, that is being borne along by others. 
 15
 
 218 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 For a moment his heart stands still with horror, and then 
 beats again with redoubled violence. 
 
 The procession comes nearer and nearer. Now he hears a 
 low, wailing voice. It is she, he recognizes Masa's voice. 
 And alas ! he can utter no tone, he cannot rise and fly to her 
 assistance. His mouth is gagged, his hands and feet are se- 
 curely bound. There he lies perfectly helpless ; he can do 
 nothing but swear vengeance to himself. Oh, he cannot ut- 
 ter a single word to tell that he is there, and that he shares 
 her grief and anguish. 
 
 They have now come close to him. Mohammed sees them 
 deposit a cot on the ground. He sees a white veiled figure ly- 
 ing motionless on this cot. He also sees and recognizes the 
 haughty man who now comes to the side of the cot. It is 
 Cousrouf Pacha, his hated and now dreaded enemy. Alas ! 
 he is now in his power. The young lion lies bound at the 
 panther's feet ; he is helpless and must submit to all. 
 
 Cousrouf commands the eunuchs, who had stood still 
 awaiting his orders, to retire after first placing the cot a little 
 nearer to the sea. 
 
 They noiselessly do as directed, and then retire. Now 
 they are alone Cousrouf Pacha and the two bound, helpless 
 creatures. 
 
 A few rosy little clouds have appeared in the east, it is 
 growing lighter, and the dark mantle of night is being lifted. 
 The sea is beginning to swell with the breath of morning, and 
 to caress the beach, and murmur at the feet of the fettered 
 man. He looks neither at the sea beneath, nor at the heavens 
 above. He gazes up with flaming eyes at him who stands com- 
 posedly by his side, looking down upon him contemptuously. 
 
 " Mohammed, you have a friend who loves you well, and 
 this friend was too shrewd for me. I had sworn with the 
 triple oath that I would grant the request he should ask of me. 
 He asked for your life and your safety." 
 
 A low groan escaped the breast of the bound man. 
 Though he could not denounce his enemy in words, he could 
 nevertheless give expression to the curse that burned in his 
 heart in the proud, fierce glance of his eye. But he must bear 
 his enemy's scornful words and smiles in silence.
 
 REVENGE. 219 
 
 " I gave my word that you should suffer no bodily injury, 
 and I will keep it. But you shall see how Cousrouf Pacha 
 punishes where no oath binds him, and how he avenges him- 
 self on those who dare to defy him and his authority. Yes, 
 you shall see, and shall carry with you throughout life the re- 
 membrance of what you have seen. Thus Cousrouf avenges 
 himself on you. Now look and hear. Incline your head a 
 little, and look down at that cot on which the white figure 
 lies." 
 
 Oh, why is the sun so cruel as to begin to shed its light 
 around them, and illumine this figure, that the poor bound 
 man may see it distinctly ! 
 
 It is she, it is Masa ! So near and yet so far, so widely, 
 eternally separated from him. No longer can they grasp 
 hands or exchange vows of undying love. A grave lies be- 
 tween, a fearful, impassable barrier. That they both know. 
 For they know the law the law of the land that permits the 
 master to punish the slave he has purchased. Yes, to punish 
 her according to the law if he finds her unfaithful. She is 
 tied up in a sack and cast into the sea, that no mound may 
 designate the spot where a poor traitoress has found her place 
 of burial ; that she may disappear from the world untalked of 
 and unnoticed. 
 
 Cousrouf stands haughtily erect beside the cot on which the 
 white figure lies. 
 
 " Masa, daughter of the Sheik of Praousta, confess that you 
 are rightfully and according to the law my slave. I paid you 
 the purchase money, and you accepted it. I was gracious, and 
 granted your request that you might pass the day with your 
 father. I was a fool, and trusted to human faith. Because 
 you swore by the spirit of your mother and by Allah, and all 
 you held sacred, that you would return to me in the evening, 
 as it beseemed a purchased slave, to my harem, where the eu- 
 nuchs awaited you. I granted you this delay out of kindness. 
 You mocked at my mercy and scorned my kindness. You 
 broke your oath. And you fled from your master with this 
 boy in shameless infidelity." 
 
 He paused and looked down at the white figure, as if ex- 
 pecting an answer, although he knew that Masa, too, had been
 
 220 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 gagged in order that no cry for help might escape her pale 
 lips. They are both bound. The same fate has overtaken 
 both, and they must bear it in silence. Their fearful anguish 
 can find no utterance. 
 
 " Masa, I repeat what I said before. Repent and attempt 
 to repair the wrong you have done ; show your master that 
 you will belong to him in love ; show this, as he requires it of 
 you. Go with me voluntarily to the sheik, your father, to- 
 morrow, and say to him : ' Cousrouf Pacha has purchased me, 
 and I will follow him out into the world, of my own free will 
 and love.' Say this to the boy, too, who lies there ; tell him 
 that henceforth you will be your master's faithful slave, and 
 will serve him in love and joyousness. Bo this, Masa, and I 
 will pardon you for the sake of your youth and beauty, and 
 because my heart prompts me to do so. Raise your hand 
 three times in token of your assent, and, I repeat, I will for- 
 give you. Yet your repentance must be public. I demand 
 this in justice to myself, and on account of that proud boy, 
 that he may receive his punishment through you. Now, an- 
 swer ! Give the sign ! " 
 
 He pauses and waits. Nothing breaks in upon the stillness 
 but the murmuring of the waves upon the shore. 
 
 The two unhappy creatures cannot pour out their anguish 
 in each other's ears, or exchange their vows of undying love. 
 And yet for a moment they are blessed, for their hearts un- 
 derstand each other, and their souls are filled for an instant 
 with ineffable love and happiness and anguish. 
 
 Mohammed knows that Masa refuses what the haughty 
 man requires of her. Mohammed knows that Masa prefers 
 death to life at the side of another man, and he feels some 
 consolation in his heart at the thought that she is there, and 
 that her death is but the manifestation of the immortality of 
 her love. 
 
 He is the witness of her death and of her fidelity, and this 
 soothes his anguish. Ah ! it is sweet to die under the glance 
 of love, heavenly and blissful to sink into the grave with gaze 
 fixed on the countenance of the beloved one, heart commun- 
 ing with heart, though lips can find no utterance. It is a 
 grand and elevating sight to him who loves to behold so faith-
 
 REVENGE. 221 
 
 ful and heroic a death. After long years have elapsed, Mo- 
 hammed will still think of this hour when Masa stood firm 
 and immovable in her vows, nobly and disdainfully rejecting 
 life. 
 
 Blessed be the love that is strong even unto death ! Blessed 
 be death when such a spirit hovers over and consecrates it. 
 
 A long pause. And Cousrouf Pacha speaks again in 
 harder and more imperious tones than before : 
 
 "Raise your hand, Masa, and give the sign I require." 
 
 Masa remains motionless. Death awaits her ; she knows 
 this, and is glad. Oh, that her face were not veiled ! Moham- 
 med might then read her love in her eyes in these stars fall- 
 en from heaven, as he had called them a few short hours be- 
 fore. 
 
 " Masa, give the sign ; this is your last opportunity." 
 
 She does not move. 
 
 " Then I curse you, and you die ! You have pronounced 
 judgment on yourself ! Here, ye slaves ! " 
 
 They nutter to his side like the ravens of the night, greedily 
 seeking their prey. 
 
 " Take hold of her and tie her up in the sack." 
 
 Mohammed's hands and feet are bound, and he cannot rise, 
 but he can lift his head and gaze at the dread deed that is 
 being done, and he does so. Yes, he sees his white dove dis- 
 appear in the sack in the black grave that is closed over 
 her. 
 
 " Thus are unfaithful slaves punished ; and thus the law 
 allows and commands. Tie the mouth of the sack securely. 
 Is it done ? Is the boat ready ? " 
 
 They murmur that all is in readiness. 
 
 " Good ! Bow her out on the water. Yet not too far, in 
 order that this boy may see what takes place." 
 
 He must bear it, and look on while the black ravens drag 
 his white dove down to the shore, and cast the living burden 
 into the boat. 
 
 They row with rapid strokes from the shore, but not far 
 out, for they know the sea is deep at this place, and that it 
 greedily swallows all that is confided to it. To the rope with 
 which the mouth of the sack is tied up they have secured two
 
 222 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 heavy iron balls, that it may sink rapidly into the deep. They 
 stop. 
 
 " Take in the oars ! Now lift the sack ; cast it into the 
 sea !" 
 
 The waves receive their prey, and the water foams and ed- 
 dies for a moment over the place where it went down. All is 
 still again. The boat is turned and rowed back to the shore. 
 
 Cousrouf Pacha has stood there, composedly gazing at this 
 fearful, horrible burial. Now he steps to the side of the poor, 
 bound man, and takes leave of him in cruel, mocking words. 
 
 Does he hear them ? His widely -opened eyes stare out 
 fixedly upon the waters. He is motionless, no quivering mus- 
 cle indicates that he has understood the pacha's words of 
 triumph and mockery. Cousrouf turns and beckons to the 
 slaves. 
 
 " Leave him lying there ! He will be found in the morn- 
 ing, for he will be looked for. Nothing has been done to him, 
 and I have kept my word. Now let us go ; the ship is ready 
 to sail, is it not ? " 
 
 "Yes, gracious master, all is in readiness," replied the 
 eunuchs. 
 
 He turns and walks off toward Cavalla. An hour later, 
 Cousrouf Pacha leaves the governor's house, and leaves it to 
 return no more. 
 
 His harem had been conveyed to the ship before the morn- 
 ing dawned ; and all his treasure and baggage had been 
 packed, and taken on board the day before. All is in readi- 
 ness to weigh the anchor and sail as soon as the pacha shall 
 have come on board. 
 
 Cousrouf Pacha walks proudly down toward the harbor, 
 at his side the governor, who insists on accompanying his 
 honored guest to the shore. The servants in gold-embroid- 
 ered liveries, and the slaves, follow his excellency. 
 
 And, gayly smiling, Cousrouf chats with the governor all 
 the way down to the shore, grasps his hand in parting, and 
 thanks him for his hospitality. He then enters the boat 
 covered with costly carpets that is to convey him to the ship. 
 
 The tschorbadji stands on the shore gazing after him, 
 vainly endeavoring to display a sorrowful countenance, and
 
 REVENGE. 
 
 223 
 
 repress all evidence of gladness that fills his heart at the 
 thought that, after long years, the haughty pacha, who entered 
 his house as master, has at last departed. Ah, it will be de- 
 lightful to be able to walk in the park and garden, with his 
 Osman, without the fear of meeting his proud guest. 
 
 Hastily the tschorbadji returns to Ca valla, to his son who 
 is still reclining in the garden house, and relates that Cous- 
 rouf has departed, and that he has sent his dear Osman the 
 kindest greetings, and the best wishes for his welfare. 
 
 Osman listens with an air of indifference and anxiety, and 
 his father regards him with dismay. 
 
 "Osman, what is the matter, what is it that grieves 
 you ? " 
 
 " Father, I must say it. Something fearful has taken place 
 this night ! " 
 
 "What can have happened, Osman? Tranquillize your- 
 self ! You are trembling ! What has occurred ? " 
 
 " Father, I do not know as yet ; I have been listening for 
 the shot Mohammed was to fire. I have not yet heard it, and 
 yet I feel that some misfortune has happened to him, and that 
 something dreadful has taken place." 
 
 " But what can have happened to Mohammed ? " 
 
 " I cannot speak of it now, and I am a poor, unhappy be- 
 ing, whose feet are too weak to bear him. I pray you go 
 down to Praousta yourself. Oh, go to the cliffs, father, go to 
 the caves and openings in the rock ! Take the servants with 
 you ! I conjure you, father, do not delay a moment ! " 
 
 He could speak no further, and the tschorbadji saw, with 
 dismay, that his son's face was deathly pale. 
 
 " Be courageous, my Osman ! It shall be as you say. I 
 will call the servants. See, I am already going ! " 
 
 He hastily left the palace with his servants. All is still 
 quiet in Praousta the walk among the cliffs, and down to the 
 shore. Then suddenly 
 
 " What is that on the beach ? O Allah, the merciful ! Is 
 that not a dead body? Is it not Mohammed? Bound and 
 gagged ! He does not move ! Quick, cut the ropes, take the 
 gag out of his mouth ! " 
 
 This is speedily done, but still Mohammed does not move.
 
 224: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Is he dead ? There are no wounds to be seen on his per- 
 son ! No, not dead, he is only insensible. Bring water, wet 
 his temples, cool his forehead ! " 
 
 Allah be praised ! He moves, he lives ! Yes, he lives, and 
 he bounds suddenly to his feet, and he gazes around with the 
 expression not of a man, but of a tiger. He then utters a cry 
 so fearful, so terrible a cry, that the tschorbadji's heart is filled 
 with anxiety and compassion. 
 
 With outstretched arms, Mohammed walks down to the 
 verge of the sea. 
 
 The servants rush after him, and endeavor to hold him 
 back. He clinches his fists and strikes them, but they grasp 
 him firmly, and at last succeed in overcoming him. 
 
 " Mohammed, compose yourself and be strong ! " said the 
 tschorbadji, clasping his arms about him. "Friend of my 
 son, take pity on me, and remember that Osman dies if you 
 die." 
 
 He shakes his head, but cannot speak. He looks at the sea, 
 the terrible sea ! His eyes stare in horror at the place where 
 Masa sank, then close, and he falls to the ground insensible. 
 The servants now raise him in their arms, and carry him to 
 the governor's house. 
 
 His countenance deathly pale, Osman stands at the gate 
 awaiting them. He sees the sad procession approaching. He 
 knows they are bringing his friend, and, hastening forward to 
 meet them, he receives the motionless body, hot, glowing tears 
 pouring from his eyes. 
 
 Awakened by the dew of his friend's falling tears, Moham- 
 med opens his eyes and looks up. His lips part, and murmur 
 softly, " Dead, Masa is dead ! " nothing more 1 
 
 The whole history of his anguish lies in the words, " Dead, 
 Masa is dead ! "
 
 ALL THINGS PASS AWAY. 225 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 ALL THINGS PASS AWAY. 
 
 TEN years had passed since the painful event that had con- 
 signed the daughter of the sheik, the Flower of Praousta, to so 
 early a grave, and caused him who had loved her a long and 
 severe illness. 
 
 Ten years ! To the happy, when he looks back at them, 
 they are but a few days of sunshine, the contemplation of 
 which delights him, and the memory of which softens his 
 heart. To the unhappy they are as a cold, desolate eternity of 
 torment, and he looks back with reluctance at them, and the 
 misery he has endured, measuring the days of anguish that 
 are still to come. 
 
 Ten years ! In Ca valla they had changed nothing. They 
 had only left their handwriting on the faces of those who had 
 been living ten years before, and had witnessed those painful 
 events. The faces of men had changed, but the sea then, as at 
 that time, shone in the beauty and freshness of eternal youth, 
 and still surged in majesty along its rock-bound coast, and 
 over the deep, the unknown grave of the beautiful Masa, the 
 forgotten one. 
 
 Yes, the forgotten one ! 
 
 All things pass away ; grief as well as joy is forgotten. 
 The years roll on over both, like the waves of the deep over 
 the bodies consigned to its keeping. 
 
 All things pass away ! Man has only to learn and to wait 
 in patience. No matter how pain may rend his soul, if he only 
 knows how to wait in patience, the balm of time will gradually 
 heal his wounds and soothe his soul. All things pass away ! 
 
 To be sure there are hopeless and weak natures who refuse 
 to wait for this soothing balm of time : natures which destroy 
 themselves in fiery torture, or in their cowardly weakness are 
 destroyed by the dark genius of despair. 
 
 The poor sheik had not been able to bear the loss of bis 
 only child, his Masa. He had died of grief. He had called 
 for his Masa with his last breath.
 
 226 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 No one now speaks of her. The young girls of that time 
 have now become mothers, and sometimes tell their little ones 
 of the Flower of Praousta and her death, as of a fairy tale of 
 the olden time. 
 
 It has become a fairy-tale, and has been written in verses 
 which the fisher-boys sing when they go out upon the waves. 
 They have almost forgotten that only ten years have passed 
 since Masa's death ; and when they gaze at the pale, earnest 
 face of Mohammed Ali as he passes through the streets of 
 Cavalla in his business occupations, they scarcely remember 
 that he it is who was the cause of her death. 
 
 Does he remember it himself ? 
 
 All things pass away, grief and joy alike. He has suffered 
 much since those days, but he has suffered in silence ; few 
 know that he loved Masa, and these few have considerately 
 refrained from touching the wound that had once bled in his 
 heart, lest it might not yet be healed. 
 
 When found on the sea-shore that morning by the father 
 of his friend Osman, Mohammed Ali was taken up to the gov- 
 ernor's house, where he was tenderly cared for. 
 
 For many days he remained entirely unconscious of all 
 that was going on around him. He lay there coffined in his 
 grief, as in living death. They cooled his feverish brow, and 
 poured strengthening cordials between his lips. The magi- 
 cians and sorcerers, as well as the physicians of Cavalla and 
 the neighboring cities, were summoned to his assistance by the 
 tschorbadji and his son. But neither amulets nor talismans, 
 neither medicines nor herbs, could heal the wounds which 
 did not bleed, or cool the burning pain of his soul. 
 
 He lay there motionless, his eyes gazing fixedly at va- 
 cancy, and yet they constantly saw the one fearful yet bliss- 
 ful picture, the Flower of Praousta, the white dove, as she 
 lay there in the early dawn, her large eyes fixed on him ten- 
 derly ; and saw, too, the fearful, the never-to-be-forgotten 
 event. As the dark body sank beneath the waves, a shudder 
 would course through his whole being, and a scarcely -audible 
 cry escape his lips. The ear of his listening friend Osman 
 would catch the word that escaped him, and this word was 
 " Revenge ! revenge ! "
 
 ALL THINGS PASS AWAY. 22 T 
 
 With time all things pass away. There is a limit to the 
 profoundest pain, to the profoundest torpor. One day Mo- 
 hammed raised his hand and in a low voice called for 
 water. 
 
 Consciousness had returned. He now felt the torment that 
 glowed in his soul. When a man has become conscious of 
 his suffering, there is a possibility of relief. 
 
 The water at least cooled his lips ; and the tender, affection- 
 ate words of his friend, and the tears of sympathy that fell 
 upon his countenance, at last cooled the fire that burned in his 
 soul. 
 
 Happy is he who can impart his grief to others, whom 
 Fate does not compel to confine it within his own bosom, and 
 let it gnaw at his vitals. Happy is he who can pour out the 
 burden of his sorrow and suffering in the ear of a friend ! 
 That grief of which one can speak is not mortal. 
 
 But there is another kind of grief and suffering more bit- 
 ter than that it is deep, like the grave. Black like the night 
 is the grief that can find no utterance, that is chained to the 
 heart by a sense of duty. 
 
 Are such the grief and suffering that burden the breast of 
 the pale man who stands there on the shore gazing out at the 
 sea ? Are such the grief and suffering that sometimes break 
 in upon the solitude and stillness of the night in low sobs from 
 the lips of the man who, but ten years ago, was so full of the 
 courage, energy, and joyousness of youth ? 
 
 Osman had not nursed his friend alone. A woman had 
 stood at his side ; the beautiful Ada, of whom Osman some- 
 times whispered to his friend that she loved him. 
 
 Upon hearing of his grief and illness, Ada, conscious of her 
 love only, and casting aside all the fetters that bound her, had 
 left her husband's house and came to the palace of her uncle, 
 with whom she was a great favorite. With glowing words 
 she told him that she would never return to the house of her 
 husband, who had long tormented her with his fierce jealousy, 
 because he well knew that his wife did not love him, but 
 loved the friend of his relative, young Mohammed Ali. In 
 the strength and ardor of her love, she had not cared to deny 
 that this was so, and firmly declared that she would be his
 
 228 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 alone ; and therefore had she come up to the palace to nurse 
 and wait on him she loved, in his illness and distress. 
 
 The tschorbadji did not oppose her wishes, and the poor, 
 delicate youth Osman was well pleased to have Ada's assist- 
 ance in nursing his friend. 
 
 She had been at his bedside constantly, and listened eagerly 
 to the words that fell from his lips in the delirium of his fever. 
 Ada would lie on her knees beside him, absorbed in those 
 mysterious outpourings of the human heart ; listening to his 
 descriptions of the object of his great love, of his Masa, of her 
 fate, and hear his oaths of vengeance. 
 
 After the days of fever, and of the outpourings of anguish, 
 came the days of exhaustion and of returning consciousness. 
 The struggle between life and death lasted long, but life was 
 at last victorious. 
 
 Mohammed now felt his weakness, and he lay, as in the 
 beginning of his illness, for many a day, motionless, on his 
 bed, with widely-opened eyes, staring around him. 
 
 But he now saw, and was conscious of what he saw. 
 
 He saw his friend Osman, who followed his every move- 
 ment with tender glances, and whose countenance shone with 
 delight when Mohammed smiled on him, and told him with 
 a look that he recognized him, and knew of his love. He saw, 
 too, the veiled woman, who flitted about him, reading his every 
 wish in his face, and fulfilling it before he expressed it. It 
 touched his heart to perceive that there was still a woman 
 who cared for him, and was anxious on his account. He 
 had believed himself alone in the wide world, and there 
 were now beside him two beings that shared his sorrow, 
 and whose hearts beat warmly for him. This was written 
 in their countenances ; this their busy, anxious movements 
 betrayed. 
 
 When he was sufficiently recovered to be spoken to, Os- 
 man told him of Ada's love, of her grief on his account, of her 
 joy in being permitted to nurse him, and of her having sepa- 
 rated herself from the past, forsaking all else to serve him and 
 him alone. 
 
 He made no reply, but closed his eyes, and a low groan es- 
 caped his lips.
 
 ALL THINGS PASS AWAY. 229 
 
 Poor Ada ! The story of her love reminds him of his own, 
 and for a moment the old wound bleeds afresh. 
 
 Could he be ungrateful ? Could he now abandon her who 
 had forsaken every thing for him when he was in distress, and 
 needed her care ? Could he do this now, when strength had 
 returned to him, now that he was able to walk in the garden, 
 supported on his friend Osman's arm ? Could he forsake her 
 who walked beside him, her eyes sparkling with delight at his 
 recovery ? 
 
 And when the tschorbadji came, now that Mohammed was 
 strong enough to occupy himself with his future business mat- 
 ters, and spoke to him seriously, and, with Ada's consent, for- 
 mally proposed his marriage with his niece, in order that her 
 reputation might not suffer, and that she might regain the 
 position she had lost before the world on his account, could he 
 cowardly decline, and excuse himself with his own grief? 
 Would it become him to say, " Let the woman who has loved 
 me live in disgrace ! " Could he do this ? 
 
 No, he felt that it would be cruel in him to act thus ; and 
 how could he be cruel, he who had suffered so much from the 
 inhumanity of others ? 
 
 He accepted the tschorbadji's proposal. He went to Ada, 
 who awaited him, her heart throbbing anxiously, and asked 
 her if she would be his wife, follow him to his house, and walk 
 with him through life in sorrow and in joy. 
 
 He asked this question in a sad, low voice, and Ada knew 
 what lay buried in the depths of his heart ; but she, neverthe- 
 less, accepted his offer, and consoled herself with the thought : 
 "All things pass away, and time heals all wounds." 
 
 She became his wife, and brought with her a rich dowry. 
 
 He had, however, made no inquiries after this ; did not 
 care for it ; aad did not rejoice when, on the morning after 
 the wedding, the tschorbadji took his arm and conducted him 
 to one of the largest and best houses in the main street of 
 Cavalla. He showed him the store and parlors, and led him 
 up the stone stairway into the apartments of the harem, that 
 were richly furnished and adorned. 
 
 Nor did he smile when, on descending the stairway, Ada 
 met him, and begged him, in her gentle voice, to accept the
 
 230 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 house and all it contained as his property, as a love-offering 
 from her. 
 
 He thanked her with many kind and tender words, yet Ada 
 felt that the wound still burned in his soul, and the sad tone 
 of his voice did not escape her. The house was handsome, 
 and so was the store. The advice of the merchant Lion had 
 been taken by Ada, and the tschorbadji and he kindly assisted 
 in arranging every thing for the young merchant in a suit- 
 able and appropriate manner. Mohammed was not to deal, like 
 his friend Lion, in all kinds of household articles. Lion knew 
 the young man better ; he knew that such a business would 
 not suit him, and that his lips would not conform to the ne- 
 cessity of using complacent words and flattery, in order to 
 dispose of his wares. The merchant had, therefore, advised 
 Ada and the tschorbadji to arrange to have the young man 
 embark in a wholesale business. 
 
 The tobacco of Macedonia is celebrated far and wide, and 
 vessels come there from all quarters of the globe to export this 
 article and distribute it throughout the world. They had, 
 therefore, made Mohammed proprietor of a large tobacco ware- 
 house, and he had now been engaged in this business some ten 
 years, and had become a wealthy merchant. The people 
 called him a happy man, too, and perhaps be was, for Moham- 
 med seemed to have true domestic happiness in his wife and 
 children ; he conducted no second wife into his harem. Ada 
 was his only wife, and the sole mistress of his house. 
 
 Yes, he was certainly happy in his family ; three sons had 
 been born to him, and he often went out upon the sea with 
 them, and taught them, in their boats, to command the waves ; 
 he also taught them to handle the gun, and other manly ac- 
 complishments. But he never took the boys to that part of 
 the shore where the entrance to the cave lay ; and the foot of 
 man has never entered it again ! The fissure in the rocks has 
 disappeared, covered with stones. 
 
 No one saw Mohammed go to this spot on the evening be- 
 fore his marriage with Ada. No one saw him, as with the 
 strength of a giant he rolled huge stones to the opening, and 
 piled them up before the grotto. Nor did any one see him, be- 
 fore he had done this, enter the grotto with bowed head and
 
 ALL THINGS PASS AWAY. 231 
 
 folded arms, as though approaching the holy mosque. Nor 
 did the ear of man hear the groans and lamentations that es- 
 caped his breast as he lay thereon ; the spot upon which the 
 light of the moon and stars of heaven shone down through 
 the opening above. There he lay, one entire night, and a 
 whole world of suffering lay on his soul throughout that 
 night. He wished, during those fearful hours, to rend from 
 his heart the remembrance of all the anguish and all the bliss 
 associated with that place in the past. Did he succeed ? Who 
 knows, who can tell ? 
 
 All things pass away, and time heals all wounds. 
 
 Mohammed is a wealthy merchant, the husband of a charm- 
 ing, lovely woman, and the father of three strong, handsome 
 boys, who look out boldly and defiantly into the world with 
 their dark eyes, the picture of their father in earlier days. 
 
 How would Sitta Khadra rejoice could she see these boys ! 
 
 Would she also rejoice if she could see her son gravely 
 and silently attending to his duties, speaking with the men 
 who come to see him, of tobacco, of good harvests, of future 
 prospects, and of the success already achieved in his business ? 
 
 Of other matters Mohammed never speaks, not even to his 
 friend Lion, who often comes to see him. When Mohammed 
 needs advice at times in his affairs, he seeks it of him ; he lis- 
 tens smilingly when Lion tells him of what is going on in the 
 world ; and, without letting Mohammed perceive it, attentively 
 observes him, endeavoring to read, in his grave, tranquil 
 countenance, whether new feelings are awakening in his soul, 
 whether the young merchant has really buried the former 
 ambition of the youth. 
 
 But he detects nothing in that tranquil face ; ambition 
 sleeps, the love of glory is dead within him. This is Lion's 
 opinion, and the opinion of all. But it is not the opinion of 
 Osman, who understands him best. He has sometimes seen 
 Mohammed's face lighten when the conversation was of the 
 struggles going on in Egypt, or when the Turkish fleet was 
 spoken of that had gone over to chastise the rebellious Mame- 
 luke beys ! He had seen a deathly pallor overspread Moham- 
 med's face when on a recent occasion a merchant, who came 
 from Stamboul, reported that the grand-vizier had sent a great
 
 232 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 pacha to Egypt, one who had been banished, the now so 
 mighty Cousrouf Pacha, the favorite of the grand-admiral. 
 Yes, Osman had observed his change of countenance at the 
 mention of this name, and that he secretly clinched his fists 
 and grasped the hilt of his dagger ; and he alone knew that, 
 though Mohammed's wrath found no utterance, it still lived 
 within him. 
 
 Mohammed had suddenly turned away on this occasion, on 
 some suddenly-conceived pretext, and had not been seen again 
 that day. 
 
 He had gone alone to the summit of the rock, and Osman 
 alone knew that the dark speck which he saw on the crest of 
 Bucephalus was the figure of his friend, who had sought this 
 solitude for the purpose, perhaps, of easing his heart of its an- 
 guish and to enjoy the holy festival of remembrance, up 
 there alone with God and Nature 1 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE BIM BASHI. 
 
 MOHAMMED'S countenance was graver and paler than usual 
 when he came down from Bucephalus. But it seemed that 
 his heart had there received milder and softer impressions. 
 He spoke to his wife in more gentle and cordial tones ; and 
 instead of repairing, as was his custom, to a coffee-house, 
 where merchants assembled and exchanged their views and 
 opinions, smoked the chibouque together, and discussed the 
 news received from foreign countries, he remained at home in 
 the family circle. At his request, Osman had come to pass the 
 evening with them, for Mohammed well knew that this was 
 the young man's only happiness. These ten years did not 
 benefit Osman's health ; he was still the withered stalk that 
 bows its head, but is not torn down by the wind, but only 
 swayed to and fro by it at its pleasure. 
 
 Yes, Osman was weak, and firm and constant in one thing 
 only, in his love for his friend.
 
 THE BIM BASHI. 
 
 233 
 
 With him this feeling took the place of all else ; Moham- 
 med was to Osman what the latter was to his father his only 
 joy in life ! And for these two Osruan sustained himself, bore 
 his ill health and suffering, and let the sunlight shine upon, 
 and the storms of life sweep over him. 
 
 Osman understood why Mohammed was so kind and genial 
 to-day. He knew that the day had its significance, and that 
 the wound bled within secretly and incessantly. In silence 
 Mohammed is praying for forgiveness, for having on this day 
 permitted his thoughts to wander back to the past, for having 
 sunk down in sadness upon the spot on the brow of the rock 
 that had once witnessed his happiness ; and he desires to be 
 mild and gentle to his family this evening. His wife Ada is 
 thankful and very happy. Mohammed so rarely laughs and 
 jests with her, so rarely plays with the boys ! To be sure he 
 has never grieved her, has always been kind and gentle, and 
 has never opposed her wishes. But yet she knows she has no 
 share in his inmost heart. He talks with her of the daily af- 
 fairs of life, he allows her to participate in all such matters, 
 but he never speaks to her of his heart's inmost thoughts, and 
 whether he suffers and longs to leave these desolate cliffs, or 
 whether he is discontented with the monotonous, matter-of- 
 fact life he is leading she knows not ! Mohammed has never 
 complained to her, neither has he to his friend. But the latter 
 has read his friend's heart, and understands it better than Mo- 
 hammed himself. And a day was soon to come which proved 
 this. 
 
 A message came from Stamboul. A large ship arrived at 
 Ca valla, and her sailors related that a number of ships still 
 larger and handsomer had arrived in the Bay of Sta. Marmara. 
 The ship put out a boat, which came to the shore and landed 
 a richly-attired officer who went up to Cavalla. He repaired 
 to the palace and delivered a letter, secured with magnificent 
 seals, to the tschorbadji. The letter was from Cousrouf Pacha 
 to his host of former years. He had not been heard from 
 since that time, and the tschorbadji had supposed himself long 
 since forgotten. He was familiar with the ways of the great 
 whose lips are ever ready to utter promises, which are for- 
 gotten the next hour. Ten years have elapsed, and but rarely 
 16
 
 234: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 have Cousrouf Pacha, his new grandeur, and the great things 
 the future had in store for him, been heard of in Ca valla. 
 And now a letter announces that Cousrouf Pacha still remem- 
 bers, and gladly remembers, former days : 
 
 " The Sublime Porte has determined," so read the pacha's 
 letter to the governor, " the Sublime Porte has determined to 
 oppose the French occupation of Egypt with energy. The 
 rich land of Egypt belongs to the Sublime Porte, and without 
 any color of right France takes possession of it as its own 
 property." 
 
 Yes, the republic of France had done this, had landed at 
 Alexandria with large armies, and had inundated almost the 
 whole of Egypt with its soldiers. But the Mameluke Beys, 
 who have so long considered themselves the masters of the 
 country, had taken the field and fought the invaders. In 
 Stamboul, also, they had long been preparing for war, and 
 now that all preparations were made, and an army ready 
 to take the field against the French, each province, yes, each 
 village of the empire, was to furnish its quota of soldiers 
 in addition. Messengers had been sent out to every city and 
 village in the empire to call on the young men in the name of 
 the grand-sultan to flock to the flag to defend Egypt. 
 
 Cavalla was also to furnish its quota, and the pacha's in- 
 structions were, that the governor should with all speed uni- 
 form three hundred young men, and send them to him. 
 
 Cousrouf Pacha had, however, also written : " That the 
 governor may see in what glad remembrance I hold the past, 
 and that I am grateful, I request that his son Osman be placed 
 at their head as captain, and come with them. And," con- 
 tinued the pacha, " as his lieutenant, young Mohammed Ali, if 
 still living, may be serviceable. However, I suppose that his 
 own violence and passion have consumed this young man, as 
 he persistently labored at his own destruction. If this, how- 
 ever, is not the case, and his extraordinary strength of consti- 
 tution has preserved him, the youth must have become a 
 strong man, and we need such men for our army." 
 
 The governor informed Mohammed and his son of what 
 the pacha had written. He requested Mohammed to assist 
 him in recruiting and equipping the men, and Mohammed
 
 THE Bill BASHI. 235 
 
 willingly gave his assistance. He repaired to Praousta and 
 the neighboring places and assisted in the work. He soothed 
 the displeasure of the men called on to take the field, spoke of 
 the heroic deeds they could perform, and of the beautiful land 
 to which they were to go, so distant from the quiet, desolate 
 Praousta. 
 
 And in a few days the three hundred men were ready to 
 embark. But how was it with regard to the captain and his 
 lieutenant ? Osman had reserved his decision for the last day, 
 and Mohammed seemed to have entirely forgotten that he was 
 selected as the captain's lieutenant. He had not spoken of it 
 during these days ; Cousrouf's mention of him seemed to have 
 made no impression on him, and his attention appeared to 
 have been directed wholly to the equipment of the soldiers. 
 Now that all was in readiness, Osman sent his friend word to 
 come to him, as he wished to converse with him on a matter 
 of grave importance. Mohammed willingly acceded to this 
 request and repaired at once to the garden-house, where, since 
 the days of his childhood, a couch had at all times stood in 
 readiness for the governor's poor, sickly son, and seated him- 
 self at his side, as he was in the habit of doing. 
 
 " You wished to see me about something, Osman. What 
 is it ? " 
 
 " What is it ? " said Osman, with his softest smile, laying 
 his hand on his friend's shoulder and regarding him fixedly. 
 " Well, I should think you ought to know. Try to divine it ! " 
 
 Mohammed slowly shook his head. "By Allah, I am 
 ignorant what it is, Osman ! " 
 
 "Well," said the latter, smiling, "I wish to speak of our 
 departure with the troops." 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " 
 
 " What do I mean ? The pacha, Cousrouf, has appointed 
 me captain of the three hundred soldiers, and you my lieu- 
 tenant." 
 
 " He has done so, to be sure, but we of course decline the 
 appointment," said Mohammed, shrugging his shoulders. 
 
 "And why?" asked Osman, with an expression of pro- 
 found astonishment. 
 
 " Why ? Well, my Osman, you surely cannot think of"
 
 236 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " I understand you," said Osman, nodding his head ; " you 
 mean I cannot think of accepting any such position as it 
 would beseem a man of my rank to hold. But I feel myself 
 in better health ; it seems as though the thought of such a possi- 
 bility had given me new strength and energy. Who knows, 
 perhaps, the luxurious, effeminate life I have always led is the 
 great cause of my ill-health and weakness ; a new or adven- 
 turous life may do me good. It is often said that the greater 
 part of disease is mere imagination. If one shakes this off, he 
 shakes his disease off with it. Therefore, I have decided to 
 try this remedy myself. After full consideration, I have con- 
 cluded to accept the position of captain of our troops." 
 
 " You are really in earnest ! " exclaimed Mohammed, 
 springing to his feet in alarm. " You will actually take this 
 position of captain, go to the war, and leave us ! " 
 
 " Leave us ? " repeated Osman. " No, we two, of course, re- 
 main together, my friend. You go with me. You are selected 
 as my lieutenant. You know Cousrouf Pacha added words of 
 praise and acknowledgment for you, too." 
 
 Mohammed's eye glittered for a moment, but he looked 
 down quickly. " Yes, he did this, and his conduct is very 
 noble and generous, for he well knows that I do not love him, 
 and that I was once his enemy." 
 
 "Once," repeated Osman, closely regarding his friend. 
 *' But that was a long while ago, and we have done with the 
 dreams of our youth long since, have we not, Mohammed ? 
 What then was, has passed away. He no longer thinks of 
 the childlike defiance you displayed toward him, the great 
 pacha ; and the sorrow and suffering he caused you are long 
 since forgotten." 
 
 " Yes," replied Mohammed, in low tones, " yes, it is for- 
 gotten. All sorrow and suffering are over. You are right. 
 All things pass away, and time heals all wounds mine, too. 
 They are healed. Cousrouf has forgotten the boy's defiance, 
 as you say, and you observe that what I have suffered at his 
 hands is also forgotten. But I shall not leave this place I 
 may not." 
 
 " You may and you shall," said Osman, and there was a 
 more earnest and manly ring in his voice than Mohammed
 
 THE BIM BASHI. 237 
 
 had ever before heard. " Do you not suppose, my boy, my be- 
 loved, my second self do you not suppose that I read your 
 soul, and know what is smouldering and lamenting in your 
 inmost heart ? Mohammed, I believe you do not wish to un- 
 derstand yourself. You have enveloped your heart in a veil 
 which you do not wish to rend asunder, even before your own 
 vision. But I, my Mohammed, can see through this covering, 
 and know your heart's most secret thoughts. Be still say 
 nothing yet. First consider, and then give me a reply. Your 
 Osman accepts the position, and it seems to me it would be- 
 come his friend Mohammed to go with him where laurels, 
 glory, and magnificence, are awaiting you. Look at me, my 
 friend ; look at the poor, frail body for which you are so 
 necessary a support, and let us be silent about all the rest for 
 the present. Yet do not forget that Osman loves you. and is 
 ready to make any sacrifice for you. Say nothing now, Mo- 
 hammed, but reflect on what I have said. And if you love 
 me, and think you owe me your love, and wish to prove your 
 friendship for me, accept the proffered position, and go out 
 with me into the world. Go, and reflect about it, Mohammed, 
 and, when you have decided, come to me with your answer." 
 
 Mohammed left the garden as his friend had asked him, 
 the words " you must go with me where laurels, glory, and 
 magnificence await you," resounding in his heart. He hears 
 them everywhere, at home with his wife, in the midst of his 
 family. And then the voice of reason would in its turn make 
 itself heard : "You should not abandon the woman who res- 
 cued you from death, and has given you comfort, wealth, and 
 position. You should not abandon the children, whom you 
 are called on to instruct and protect." 
 
 " No, I ought not to go," he repeated to himself, as he sat 
 down beside Ada, and called his children to him. " No, I 
 must remain here." 
 
 And yet, again and again, Osman's words come back to 
 him. 
 
 He could not bear to chat with his lips, while such voices 
 were speaking in his heart. He must leave the house, seek 
 solitude, and consult with his own thoughts. He made some 
 pretence of pressing business requiring his attention, and went
 
 238 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 out into the street. He started to walk rapidly toward the 
 spot on the rock, where he had so often sought solitude and 
 consolation. Suddenly he felt a hand laid on his shoulder, 
 he turned and saw the old Sheik of Praousta, the successor of 
 Masa's father, who gave him a kindly greeting. 
 
 Mohammed always found pleasure with the old man of 
 whom the people said that he had the gift of prophecy, and 
 could read the future. Mohammed did not believe in this, but 
 he did believe in his wisdom and experience of the world ; and 
 knew that much was to be learned from the old man, who had 
 been a great traveller, and had now returned to his home to 
 rest, to spend the evening of his days as Sheik of Praousta. 
 
 " How fares it with you ? " repeated the sheik, fixing his 
 large dark eyes on Mohammed in a kindly gaze. 
 
 "Well, my business affairs are prosperous." 
 
 The sheik shook his head. "It was not concerning such 
 matters that I inquired. Ah, Mohammed, it is frequently well 
 with our business affairs, and just the reverse with our- 
 selves." 
 
 "Well, then, things go well with myself, also," replied 
 Mohammed, but with averted gaze. 
 
 The old man shook his head. "I can read a man's 
 thoughts on his forehead, Mohammed, and I tell you sad 
 thoughts are inscribed on yours." And with another shake 
 of the head he continued : " The governor has, as you know, 
 raised a body of three hundred soldiers ; Osman has been ap- 
 pointed their captain, and yourself his lieutenant." 
 
 " Cousrouf Pacha is a generous man," said Mohammed, in 
 a peculiar tone. " He graciously forgets the days that have 
 been." 
 
 "No, my son," said the sheik, " Cousrouf Pacha is a proud, 
 cruel man, and he now wishes to show himself to those who 
 saw him in those days when he was powerless, and an exile, 
 in his grandeur and magnificence. You must know, my son, 
 that oftentimes that which seems noble and generous, consists 
 really only of vaingloriousness and love of display." 
 
 " I thank you for these words, O sheik," cried Mohammed, 
 with a fierce gesture, " I thank you for having spoken from 
 my soul. Young as I then was, I believe I thoroughly under-
 
 THE BIM BASHI. 239 
 
 stood this man, and I am glad you interpret my thoughts so 
 well." 
 
 " Mohammed,'' said the sheik, after a pause, " you must ac- 
 company your young friend Osman." 
 
 " Osman ! no, that is impossible ; how can Osman fill such 
 a position ? " 
 
 "He can," said the sheik, "for you, Mohammed, will ac- 
 company him." 
 
 " No, sheik, I shall not accompany him ; I shall remain 
 here." 
 
 " You will remain here, and why ? " 
 
 "I have a wife and children," replied Mohammed, quickly, 
 as if speaking to himself. " I cannot separate myself from 
 them. I must not think of it ; I have a home, a family, a 
 prosperous business, and I live a peaceful life ; why, therefore, 
 
 sheik, go out into the troubled world to end my days, per- 
 haps, in misery ? Here, I know what I am a respected mer- 
 chant, a favorite of the governor, the friend of his son, and I 
 may boast of your friendship, too, sheik. Tell me, why should 
 
 1 subject myself to the tempest of life again, and go to Egypt 
 to fight the unbelievers ? The distance is great, the future be- 
 set with danger and difficulties ; and here I have happiness, 
 and an assured future." 
 
 " You are right ; the distance is great, and your future one 
 of danger and difficulties," replied the sheik. " Yes, therein 
 you are right, but you are wrong when you determine not 
 to go." 
 
 " Wrong wrong, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes, Mohammed, you are wrong ; for, though the way is 
 long and the future one of danger and difficulty, yet is the re- 
 ward that awaits you, laurels and renown, glorious." 
 
 "Sheik, do not speak thus to me," cried Mohammed, "do 
 not tempt me to do what I may repent ; what may bring mis- 
 fortune upon my wife and children. No, rather tell me to 
 silence these voices that are ever resounding in my heart. Oh> 
 do not tell me to make ambition the pursuit of my life." 
 
 "And yet I must do so," replied the sheik. "I tell you, 
 you would act with great injustice if you should refuse to 
 awaken the hero that slumbers in you, if you should condemn
 
 24:0 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 the warrior to inactivity, for the sake of the merchant. Allah 
 himself would be displeased, Mohammed, for he has given you 
 the capacity to perform great things, and implanted great 
 thoughts and plans in your heart. And now the way is open 
 to you, and you can carry out these plans. Therefore, when 
 you see Osman again, tell him that you will go with him. 
 And now, farewell, Mohammed ; consult with your thoughts, 
 and be strong." 
 
 Greeting Mohammed with a wave of his hand, the sheik 
 turned and walked away, leaving his friend gazing after him 
 in amazement. 
 
 The people are right : the sheik is a prophet ; else how 
 could he know what he had discussed with Osman that day, 
 inducing him to consider the matter and give his decision by 
 the following morning ? But, then, if he is a prophet, he has 
 also announced the truth and foretold the future. Very great 
 things are in store for him, and the whole world of glory 
 d reamed of in his youth lies open to him. This may then 
 still be realized. No, Mohammed, deny yourself and be 
 strong. Bow beneath the will of Allah ; and it surely can- 
 not be his will that you should forsake wife and children, but, 
 rather, that you should remain patiently with them. 
 
 He returned to his house, but it was in vain that he en- 
 deavored to silence the voices that whispered in his heart. 
 
 With earliest dawn he arose noiselessly from the couch on 
 which he had passed a restless night. 
 
 The sun has risen ! Is it for the last time that he sees it 
 mount above these cliffs ? Perhaps ! He ascends the moun- 
 tain-rock, higher and higher. Now he stands still ; he is ap- 
 proaching a consecrated spot ! 
 
 Why should he come to this place now ? His heart had 
 never before permitted him to approach it since he had be- 
 come Ada's husband. Why does he now long again to mount 
 to the spot on which he had never stood after those days ? 
 Since then he has become a man and another being. There 
 he had exchanged vows of eternal love with his Masa ! There, 
 all Nature heard him swear : " I love you alone, and no other 
 woman shall ever stand at my side ! " 
 
 The youth which had uttered these words died in him long
 
 THE BIM BASHI. 241 
 
 ago. Mohammed All was now a man, had a wife, and chil- 
 dren called him father ; and the man had hitherto avoided 
 treading on this consecrated ground. But now he is driven 
 there by an irresistible longing ! 
 
 He walks rapidly on, and is soon there. 
 
 He stands where he had stood with Masa ; where he had 
 called down imprecations on her head because he thought her 
 faithless ; where he had also listened in pious devotion to the 
 holy revelation of her love. 
 
 Ten years have passed since then. "What has remained of 
 those hopes, and of that love ? 
 
 His dreams have ended, and his illusions are dissipated. 
 
 '' O Masa ! and people call me a happy man. O Mother 
 Khadra, look down into your son's heart ! The voices I long 
 since thought silenced forever, are again aroused the voices 
 of love and ambition. O mother, it is as though I saw you 
 before me again, and heard you relate your dream ! You saw 
 your son standing upon the pinnacle of a palace, a sword up- 
 lifted in his hand, a crown encircling his brow, and you knew, 
 mother, that this man with crown and sceptre, attired in pur- 
 ple, was your son ; and this man transformed himself into an 
 angel, and flew to you, and kissed you. The man you beheld 
 as a prince and hero, has again transformed himself, and this 
 time into a miserable merchant. Nothing has remained to 
 him of the prince, and angel, and hero ; he is nothing more 
 than a poor worm of earth ! " 
 
 He cries out loudly and fiercely. All the anguish of 
 former days, all the ungratified longings of the past, are again 
 awakened, and, long pent up, now break forth in a fiery flood, 
 and sweep away and burn to ashes all reason, all calm reflec- 
 tion, all the fruit of these ten long, desolate years of tranquil- 
 lity and patient industry. 
 
 After a struggle with himself, he arose, and a deep sigh, 
 like a death-groan, escaped his breast. 
 
 It was his intention to go to Osman and say : " It is settled, 
 I remain ! I have just committed a murder on myself ; I have 
 killed Mohammed Ali, the eagle, as his mother called him, and 
 there remains only the merchant Mohammed ! He will creep 
 on, composedly, over the surface of the earth, collecting tobac-
 
 242 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 co, rolling it into great balls, and rejoicing when he finds his 
 profit in so doing." 
 
 But if seemed as though his footsteps were clogged, as 
 though an invisible hand held him back, and compelled him 
 to remain a while longer on this spot where he had stood with 
 Masa. And now it seemed to him that her form suddenly 
 arose from her cold grave in the waves over there beyond the 
 cliffs. She was arrayed in purple, her starlike eyes were fixed 
 on him, and her long hair enveloped her beloved form as with 
 a golden veil, the water dripping from her like glittering 
 pearls. It gradually arose out of the waters. He had seen 
 such visions, such fata morgana, that appeared not un fre- 
 quently on this coast, many a time, and had hitherto smiled at 
 such illusions. But to-day he forgot his knowledge and expe- 
 rience, and the illusion was to him reality. He stretched out 
 his arms, and gazed at the heavenly picture that had risen out 
 of the waves, and his lips whispered in longing accents : " Masa, 
 come to me ; let the water that drips from you fall on my 
 burning heart, soothe my anguish ; speak to me of my future, 
 and tell me what you desire me to do. Oh, speak to me, 
 Masa!" 
 
 Enraptured, he still gazed out into the air at the sweet vis- 
 ion that rose higher and higher out of the waves. At last it 
 stretched out its arms over him, and a cold breath kissed his 
 lips ! After a long pause, he opened his eyes again. Had he 
 been dreaming ? Was it reality ? He lay on the rock alone 
 in the morning light of the sun. The image had disappeared, 
 and silence surrounded him, profound silence. 
 
 And in this silence Mohammed formed his last, his decisive 
 resolve. As he lay there, he had entreated Allah to deliver 
 him, by death, from this tormenting struggle, this doubt. The 
 hour of irresolution had now passed, and he felt strengthened 
 with renewed life. He looked up at the heavens, and a 
 hitherto undreamed-of world seemed to lie open before him. 
 He looked out into the purple distance, and he seemed to be- 
 hold the minarets, and temples, and mountains, and plains of 
 a new land. Was he never, to reach this land ? Were all the 
 dreams of his youth to come to naught, and the prophecies 
 made by the woman who had told his mother that he was to
 
 THE BIM BASHI. 
 
 be a hero, to remain unfulfilled ? And was Masa to remain 
 unavenged in her cold grave ? He has duties to fulfil toward 
 wife and children. But revenge is also a sacred duty, and he 
 has sworn to himself a thousand times, that he will perform 
 this duty. Vengeance for Masa ! Vengeance on him ! The 
 hour has come ! Grasp the occasion ! He may fail hi his 
 career, but, if successful, his success will be great, divine. It 
 will be heavenly, if he must die, to fall on the field of battle 
 amid the roar of artillery, and the clash of arms. Such a 
 death were far preferable to a life like that he now leads, pro- 
 tracted through long, weary years. Who has brought about 
 this struggle, and implanted these aspirations in his breast ? 
 It is Allah's work ! In his early youth, his mother had told 
 him of her dreams, and hope for her boy ! Who was it that 
 arose from the waves and permitted him to see in her dewy 
 hand a sword and a crown ! It was Masa, his Masa ! These 
 three, Allah, his mother, and Masa, have spoker to him, and 
 Mohammed has heard and understood their words. 
 
 As he stands there on the verge of the cliff, gazing out into 
 the distance, and listening to the sea murmuring at his feet, 
 he now feels that he is the instrument chosen to do great 
 deeds. He must obey Destiny, he must respond to the appeal 
 of revenge, of honor, and of renown. And a threatening 
 voice whispers in his soul : " Cousrouf Pacha, beware ! You 
 have called your judge yourself. Beware, the avenger will 
 appear ! You will not recognize him, for his countenance 
 will smile, and his bearing will be soft and composed. You 
 will not recognize him, but he will come. Beware, Cousrouf 
 Pacha ! " 
 
 Mohammed now turns to descend to Cavalla, and he feels 
 himself a changed, a new man. 
 
 He slowly descended, his head erect, his breast swelling 
 with a proud joyousness. The struggle is over, and the voice 
 of anguish is forever stilled. Mohammed comes among men 
 again another and a better man, and, before returning to his 
 own house, he repairs to the palace of the tschorbadji, to seek 
 his friend Osman. 
 
 When Osman saw him coming he smiled, nodded to him, 
 and held out his hand.
 
 244 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Well, my Mohammed, I see by your countenance that th 
 struggle is over, and that Mohammed knows what future is in 
 store for him." 
 
 Mohammed grasped his friend's hand warmly in his own, 
 a bright smile lighting up his countenance. 
 
 u He at least knows, my Osman, what demands he intends 
 to make of the future, and, if they are not accorded, he will at 
 least know how to die gloriously." 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE EMBARKATION. 
 
 " Is it then really true, Osman ? " asked the governor, with 
 tears in his eyes. " Have you resolved to leave me and as- 
 sume command of the troops ? " 
 
 " Yes, my dear father, I have. It is time I showed myself 
 to be a man ! And do you not think the uniform of a bim 
 bashi will become me well ; and that I, too, have some desire 
 to parade in my finery before beautiful women, and be 
 honored with their gracious looks ? " 
 
 "You are jesting, my son," said the tschorbadji, sadly. 
 '' With a grave air your lips speak joyous words of which 
 your heart knows nothing. No, you cannot deceive your 
 father. It is not the uniform that charms you, nor has or can 
 war have any thing attractive for you." 
 
 " You mean by that, father, that a sickly, weak man, like 
 myself, can take no pleasure in military service. Believe me, 
 it will make me healthier and stronger. I have been treated 
 like an invalid long enough, and have not benefited by such 
 treatment. Let us now defy fate and ill health. Moreover," 
 he continued, after a short pause, " moreover, I have chosen 
 Mohammed to be my companion, my lieutenant, in order that 
 I might have a strong arm to lean on. With Mohammed at 
 my side, I shall have no fear in the conflict. His presence 
 will give me the needful strength. I tell you I feel stronger 
 and better already. But now let me go and put on my uni-
 
 THE EMBARKATION. 
 
 245 
 
 form. And do you not think you will be proud of my sol- 
 dierly appearance yourself when you walk down to the ship 
 with me, and hear people whisper to each other : ' That is 
 Osman ! We would not have believed him to be so stately 
 and strong a man ! ' Tell me, would this not gladden your 
 heart?" T 
 
 He nodded to his father, and without awaiting his answer 
 turned and went hastily to his apartments, to put on his uni- 
 form. 
 
 The tschorbadji looked after him sadly. 
 
 '" If I could only discover what secret purpose induces my 
 son to play the soldier ! I will ask Mohammed, and also re- 
 quest him to watch over my son." 
 
 He went down into the court-yard where Mohammed, 
 dressed in the uniform of the boulouk bashi again, was en- 
 gaged in drawing up his soldiers in rank and file, preparatory 
 to marching them down to the harbor, where they were to 
 embark. He beckoned to Mohammed to come into the hall, 
 and laid his hand gently on his shoulder. " I can count on 
 you, my friend, can I not ? " 
 
 " Tschorbadji, you can count on me at all times, while life 
 lasts ! " 
 
 " You will watch over my Osman ? " said he, in low tones. 
 " You will not permit him to undertake that which his body 
 is unable to bear, though his spirit be well equal to the task ? " 
 
 " I will care for him as though he were my better self, as I 
 would for the woman I love ! " said Mohammed. " I well 
 know that his spirit is strong, but his body is delicate. And 
 therefore when he goes into danger, and I cannot prevent it, 
 I will protect him unto death, with my own body ! This I 
 swear to you by Allah, and by my love for my friend Osman ! " 
 
 " I thank you, Mohammed," said the tschorbadji, deeply 
 moved. "My Osman is my only joy in life. You are a 
 father, too, Mohammed, and you know how a father loves his 
 child." 
 
 " I do, tschorbadji," replied he, " and as a father I beg you 
 to look after my children sometimes. You are related to them 
 through their mother ; shield and protect them, and if the 
 news should come that destiny has been unfavorable to me, or
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 favorable if you will, and I shall have fallen on the field of 
 battle, think of this moment, and watch over my boys ! They 
 will be well provided for, as far as the goods of this world are 
 concerned. I have made over all 1 possess, and all I have 
 earned since I began my business, to my wife ; from this hour 
 all that was mine is hers. I take nothing out into the world 
 with me ; I will enter it as a new man. It all came from my 
 wife, and it is now restored to her. I am going out into the 
 world a new man, but the old love will remain here in Cavalla 
 with my wife and with you, and it will accompany me in the 
 person of my beloved Osman. You need have no fear on our 
 account. While I live, Osman shall be protected and watched 
 over." 
 
 While they were conversing in the hall, Osman was put- 
 ting on the uniform of the him bashi. His faithful slaves 
 were assisting him, and rejoiced in his magnificence ; and as 
 he now stood before them in his gold-embroidered uniform, 
 his too slender waist encircled with a broad leather girdle, 
 from which dangled his sword with its golden hilt, and to 
 which his two pistols, with jewelled stocks, were attached, his 
 slaves cried out with delight, and fell on their knees and 
 kissed his feet. 
 
 He told them to rise and to get themselves ready, as these 
 two faithful servants were to accompany him. 
 
 When they had gone, Osman sank down upon his cushions 
 exhausted. 
 
 " O Allah, give me strength sufficient to walk down to the 
 shore with the appearance of health. Be strong, poor, weak 
 breast, suppress your pain until I have reached the ship ! 
 Make me strong, Allah, until my aim is attained, until I have 
 proved to my friend that I love him." 
 
 Hearing footsteps approaching, he sprang to his feet and 
 assumed a cheerful and composed manner, as his father and 
 Mohammed came in and announced that all was in readiness 
 for then- departure, and that the soldiers were only waiting 
 for their bim bashi to march down to the shore. 
 
 " I, however, my bim bashi, have come with a request," 
 said Mohammed, quickly, " and I hope he will not refuse his 
 boulouk bashi's first request. I beg you, Osman, to go with
 
 THE EMBARKATION. 
 
 your father in advance to the shore, and take up your position 
 there. I will then follow with the soldiers, and pass with them 
 in review before you. This is appropriate, and you must al- 
 low the houlouk hashi and the soldiers to show you these 
 honors." 
 
 u lf such is the custom, then let it he so," said Osman, smil- 
 ing. " Let us now go, father, as Mohammed requests." 
 
 "But I also have a request to make, my son," said the 
 tschorbadji. " I have met with an accident : in crossing the 
 court-yard I sprained my ankle slightly, and I cannot walk, 
 as it pains me. You must therefore do me the kindness to al- 
 low yourself to be carried down with me in the palanquin. 
 It will excite no surprise ; the soldiers saw me when the acci- 
 dent occurred, and no one will suppose it is on your account." 
 
 " It seems to me, father," replied Osman, gravely, " that the 
 bim bashi should walk down, and await his soldiers standing." 
 
 " And he shall," said his father, quickly. " Below he shall 
 await his soldiers, standing, while the poor tschorbadji must 
 remain seated in his palanquin. Oh, the pain ! Let me support 
 myself on your arm, Mohammed ! You have no idea how my 
 foot hurts ! " 
 
 Osman averted his face, that they might not see the tears 
 that stood in his eyes. He discerned, only too well, that they 
 both knew his weakness and were tenderly caring for him ! 
 
 But, in spirit at least, he must be a man, and he turns and 
 looks at them firmly and composedly. 
 
 "Then come, father. I will go down with you in the pa- 
 lanquin." 
 
 The slaves and servants saw the tschorbadji, supported by 
 Mohammed, limp to the palanquin ; Osman followed them 
 with firm footstep, his head proudly erect. The people 
 rejoiced in his stately appearance, and in the glittering uni- 
 form that became him so well. 
 
 Osman was carried down to Praousta at his father's side. 
 The fishermen, who stood there awaiting him, greeted the 
 young bim bashi with loud huzzas. They wished him happi- 
 ness and success in his military career. 
 
 Osman thanked them in a loud, clear voice, and no one 
 knew what pain the effort cost him. Arrived at the shore, he
 
 248 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 stepped out of the palanquin with an appearance of joyou& 
 haste, and took up his position beside his father to receive 
 from the soldiers, who were now approaching, Mohammed at 
 their head, the military honors. And now the hour of leave- 
 taking had arrived. The admiral's boat had come to convey 
 the him bashi to the ship. The tschorbadji insisted on accom- 
 panying his son on board, and seated himself beside him in 
 the boat into which the slaves and servants who were to go 
 with Osman now also entered. 
 
 Mohammed had declined to go with them to the vessel. 
 The soldiers must first be embarked, and the boulouk bashi 
 will be the last to leave the shore, for this the military law re- 
 quires. 
 
 The boats were soon filled with the soldiers, and the bay, 
 covered with all kinds of skiffs, boats, and barks, now pre- 
 sented a very gay, lively spectacle. The entire population of 
 Praousta and Cavalla were assembled on the shore to witness 
 the embarkation. 
 
 Ada and her boys had also come down, and were gathered 
 around the husband and father to take leave of him ; beside 
 them stood Mohammed's old friend, the merchant Lion. As 
 the boats now began to put off from the shore, Mohammed 
 took his wife's hand and led her aside, away from the others. 
 
 " Ada, my wife," said he, " I bid you a last farewell ! " 
 
 She sobbed beneath her veil, and tears poured in streams 
 from her eyes. 
 
 " You weep on my account," said he ; "that proves that I 
 have at least not made my wife unhappy, and that she is not 
 glad to be alone." 
 
 " Ah, Mohammed," murmured she, " happy have you made 
 me, and I owe you thanks for many glad years ! " 
 
 " And I thank you for these words," said he, gently. '' I 
 will take them with me as an amulet to protect me without, in 
 the world. Think of me, and watch over my children. Care 
 for them, and do not let them become the drones or drudges 
 of existence. Remember that their father is a soldier, and 
 that he remains one to the end ! Raise my children with ref- 
 erence to this ! Have them instructed, Ada, for my sons 
 must not come as ignorant soldiers to my army ! "
 
 THE EMBARKATION. 249 
 
 " To your army ? " exclaimed Ada, regarding him in as- 
 tonishment " your army ? " 
 
 He started ; his inmost thoughts had for a moment escaped 
 his lips. " The army in which I serve ! " said he, quickly. 
 " Have my boys taught to read and write ; this is necessary, 
 believe me. And now, farewell, and receive my thanks for 
 all the beautiful days and years which you have sought to 
 bless me with ! " 
 
 He did not say, <k which you have blessed me with." He 
 did not wish to take leave of her with a falsehood on his lips, 
 and his eye glanced over toward the place where Masa had 
 sunk beneath the waves. There lay his happiness buried, and 
 from that grave it had never risen. Ada knew it not, he had 
 never complained, and never seemed discontented ; she had 
 thought him happy. His love and thirst for revenge had 
 hitherto slumbered, but now they were awakened to new life. 
 He would have vengeance on him who had murdered her he 
 loved, and heaped insult upon himself ! He is now going out 
 into the world, where he must meet Cousrouf Pacha, and on 
 him will he wreak vengeance for all his wrongs and suffer- 
 ings ! Yes, his Masa, his white dove, shall be avenged ! 
 
 With such thoughts, Mohammed enters the boat that 
 rapidly conveys him to the ship where Osman stands on the 
 deck awaiting him. 
 
 " Welcome, Mohammed ! We are on the road to honor 
 and renown ! " 
 
 " Yes, my Osman, to honor and renown," responded Mo- 
 hammed. 
 
 " And may Allah's blessing accompany you ! " said the 
 tschorbadji, holding his son in his arms in a farewell embrace. 
 He then enters the boat that awaits him, and is rowed back to 
 the shore. 
 
 Osman stands on the deck beside his friend ; the soldiers 
 stand around, silent and respectful in the presence of their 
 bim bashi, and now the farewell gun is fired. 
 
 The governor, Ada, and the merchant, who stand in a 
 group on the shore, wave their handkerchiefs : " Farewell, 
 
 farewell ! '' . . 
 
 Mohammed turns to Osman. " Be joyous, my friend 
 
 17
 
 250 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 We have done with the past, and a brilliant future awaits us ! 
 Look, there rests my Masa, and, I tell you, a monument 
 prouder and grander than was ever erected to woman, shall 
 rise over her grave ! The whole sea shall be' her monument, 
 and on the coast of Egypt will I erect one to my Masa, to my 
 love, and my revenge ! " 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CAMP AT ABOUKIR. 
 
 THE life of the Mameluke beys had for months been a con- 
 tinuous festival. Nothing but pleasure and festivity ; nothing 
 but assurances of love and friendship on the part of their for- 
 mer enemies, the Turks. 
 
 Since the hated Franks, after so many struggles, so many 
 defeats and fruitless shedding of blood, had embarked in their 
 proud ships and returned to Europe, the prospects for peace in 
 the land that was bleeding from a thousand wounds seemed to 
 be bright. Friends and enemies had made these wounds ; 
 friends and enemies had torn the once fair form of the beauti- 
 ful land of the Pharaohs, and converted it into a hideous 
 corpse. 
 
 The battle-fields of Aboukir, the Pyramids of Gheezeh, the 
 blood-soaked fields of Syria, the overthrown walls of St. Jean 
 d'Acre, and of the magnifient city of the caliphs, Cairo, tell of 
 the French general, Bonaparte, who, at the head of his army, 
 had entered upon a crusade in order to bless Egypt with civil- 
 ization. This was his pretext. He intended, with his sans 
 culottes, to carry civilization to the Orient, and, not "being able 
 to convert them to Christianity by persuasion or trickery, he 
 determined to baptize them with blood. 
 
 At first the Mameluke beys, who until then had ruled in 
 Egypt, and had, in protracted struggles, endeavored to cast off 
 their allegiance to the grand-sultan, had supposed it would be 
 an easy matter to drive back the French barbarians from the 
 yellow shores of Africa. 
 
 Mourad Bey, the chief of all the Mameluke beys, was sitting
 
 THE CAMP AT ABOUKIR. 251 
 
 at a joyous banquet in Alexandria, when several of his officers 
 rushed into the hall to announce that a number of ships were 
 entering the harbor, and that a body of Franks had already 
 landed. The Mameluke chieftain laughed, and, without ris- 
 ing from his seat, said to the messengers : " Give these French 
 beggars a bakshish, and tell them to clear out, or Mourad Bey 
 will compel them to do so." 
 
 " But," observed the English consul, who had just entered 
 the hall, " excellency, these Franks have come to possess them- 
 selves of Egypt. Hasten to make preparations for your de- 
 fence." 
 
 Mourad Bey laughed again. " You take a gloomy view of 
 things, my friend. Go and give these wretches something to 
 eat, and, as I have already ordered, a little money, also, and 
 then advise them to depart with all speed, or I will have them 
 driven off by my servants." 
 
 But the Franks were not to be driven off so easily. They 
 were bringing civilization, the glory of the French Republic, 
 to Egypt, and were determined to make them happy by force. 
 The republic at home had become too small for the great gen- 
 eral. " Europe is a mere mole-hill," he had said ; " there 
 never were great kingdoms and great enterprises elsewhere 
 than in the Orient, where six hundred million people 
 live ! " 
 
 And it was indeed a great enterprise that Bonaparte wished 
 to attempt in Egypt, and great things he really did accomplish 
 there. So great were they, that General Kleber, in secret his 
 enemy and rival, could nevertheless not refrain from saying, 
 after one of the victories : 
 
 " You are as great, Bonaparte, as the world, but the world 
 is too small for your glory 1 " 
 
 And yet a day had come when the man who was too great 
 for the world had to make himself small before the victorious 
 Mameluke beys, when he secretly, accompanied by a few faith- 
 ful followers only, departed from Egypt to return to the mole- 
 hill Europe, to seek a crown for himself there. Bonaparte 
 had left behind, in want and misery, the army that had suf- 
 fered so much, not only from battle and disease, but also from 
 the cruelty of its leaders. Was it not at Jaffa that Bonaparte
 
 252 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 caused the sick and wounded to be poisoned, in order to 
 shorten their sufferings ? And one other deed of cruelty of 
 the general of civilization, who had gone to Egypt to confer 
 happiness upon the unbelievers, stands recorded in the books 
 of history. Was it not in Egypt that the French general 
 caused the prisoners of war who had surrendered to General 
 Desaix to be led down to the seashore and shot, contrary to 
 the usages of warfare ? Four thousand Arabian soldiers were 
 assassinated in this manner. This was one of the monuments 
 of civilization erected by the French general in the Orient ! 
 And the revolt in Cairo, the massacre of so many French sol- 
 diers, and the hatred of the whole people, was the harvest 
 reaped by Bonaparte for this bloody deed. 
 
 " Death to the Franks ! " was the cry of every Egyptian 
 the cry that was common to the Mameluke chieftain and the 
 lowest fellah. 
 
 " Death to the Franks ! " murmured the sheiks and ulemas 
 with each prayer. And when Bonaparte had secretly fled, 
 this ominous cry resounded through all Egypt "Death to the 
 Franks ! " 
 
 General Kleber, Bonaparte's successor, was the first victim 
 sacrificed. At Cairo, on the grand square of the Esbekieh, 
 under the large sycamore at a corner of the harem of one of 
 the Mameluke beys, he was stricken down by the dagger of a 
 fanatical Turk. And now terror and dismay possessed itself 
 of the whole army, and not only were the Egyptians glad 
 when the command came from Europe that the French 
 soldiers should embark, but the latter also esteemed them- 
 selves happy when, from the decks of their ships, they saw the 
 yellow coast of Africa gradually disappear. Since then, 
 bright, happy days seemed to have come again for the proud 
 Mameluke beys, and happiness appeared to dawn again over 
 the stricken land. The English, who, off the coast of Egypt, 
 had destroyed the French ships, their armada, were now mas- 
 ters of the situation. They united themselves with the Mame- 
 luke beys, and undertook to mediate between them and the 
 Turkish ruler. 
 
 " Egypt is to be blessed with peace, and they who have so 
 long contended with each other in bitter hostility are to extend
 
 THE CAMP AT ABOUKIR. 263 
 
 their hands to each other. Let recognition be accorded to the 
 Mameluke beys, and favorable conditions of peace offered 
 them, and they will submit." This Lord Balan had an- 
 nounced to the grand-sultan, and his first servant, the grand- 
 vizier, at Stamboul. And he had gone to and fro, from Cairo 
 to Stamboul, from Stamboul to Cairo, until peace was at last, 
 as it seemed, secured. 
 
 "The Mameluke beys," so read the last decision of the 
 grand-sultan, Selim II., " are to leave Cairo and to go to Upper 
 Egypt, where large tracts of land are to be assigned them, 
 with their wives, their treasures, and their servants, to rule 
 there in freedom and magnificence." 
 
 The Mamelukes took these propositions into favorable con- 
 sideration ; they were weary of bloodshed and longed for the 
 peaceful desert plains and for the sunny tents, where they 
 could rest from their long struggles in quiet comfort, listen to 
 the songs of the female slaves, and gaze at the voluptuous 
 dances of the almehs. Yes, they will return home to the be- 
 loved south, to the cataracts of the Nile, to the sunny shores 
 where the temple ruins of by-gone magnificence stand out 
 against the deep blue sky. 
 
 Yes, they longed for peace, and for the sublime stillness of 
 the desert ; they consented to Lord Balan's proposition, and 
 declared themselves ready to meet the servants of the sultan, 
 and arrange with them the boundaries of the tracts of land 
 that were to be assigned to them, and to conclude peace. They 
 had, therefore, in response to the invitation of the Turks, come 
 out to the peninsula of Aboukir. There, on the wide plain 
 that had three years before been drenched with the blood 
 of the French and the Egyptians, now stood the stately tents 
 of the Turks and the Mamelukes. 
 
 It was a splendid spectacle, the wide plain with its array of 
 gayly-decorated tents, with its great squares, on which the 
 Mamelukes mounted on their proud steeds, displayed their 
 skill with the spear and the gun, exciting the admiration of 
 the Turks by their skill and agility. 
 
 All was festivity, and life was enjoyed as though it were an 
 uninterrupted chain of pleasures. Yet there were some who 
 felt less contented than these Mameluke beys, some who had
 
 254 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 learned from the French, that promises and assurances of 
 friendship were not always to be relied on. 
 
 Many of the beys had brought their wives with them, for 
 the wives of the beys enjoyed greater liberty than those of the 
 Turks, and they could move about among the tents, with as 
 little constraint as in the streets of Cairo. The Mameluke 
 honors his bey's wife, and bows down in the dust before her, 
 when she passes by with head erect and veiled countenance, 
 followed by her slaves. 
 
 On this, the fourteenth day of their sojourn at Aboukir, 
 the Mamelukes also bow profoundly before a woman who, 
 followed by two servants, is passing down between the double 
 row of tents, and whisper to each other : " This is the wife of 
 our greatest chieftain, the deceased Mourad Bey ! How does 
 it happen that she has left her beautiful palace in Cairo ? 
 For what purpose has Sitta Nefysseh come to Aboukir ? " 
 
 And when she had passed, the Mamelukes raised their 
 heads and followed with their eyes the white form as it swept 
 on between the tents, and observed with astonishment that 
 Mourad Bey's widow had stopped at the tent of the bey who 
 was now their first chief, at the tent of Osman Bey Bardissi. 
 Mourad's widow, and those who accompanied her, entered this 
 tent. 
 
 He lay on the divan, smoking his chibouque. But upon 
 her appearance at the entrance to the tent, he sprang to his 
 feet. 
 
 "You here, Sitta you in the camp at Aboukir ? " 
 
 '' I have come to speak with you," she replied, earnestly. 
 " Let the rest leave the tent. Mourad's widow can be alone 
 with the man whom her deceased husband called his dear 
 friend." 
 
 He waved his hand imperiously, and all the servants with- 
 drew from the tent, closing the gold-embroidered curtains be- 
 hind them. 
 
 " Speak ! " said the bey, in deferential tones. " Your serv- 
 ant hears, and is ready to obey your commands." 
 
 " I have not come to command," replied she ; " I have come 
 to warn you, Osman." 
 
 " To warn me, Sitta ? "
 
 THE CAMP AT ABOUKIR. 55 
 
 "Yes, Osman. You have allowed yourselves to be de- 
 ceived by the flattering words of those who call themselves 
 your friends, but can never be other than your enemies. Do 
 you suppose that the sultan will ever give you, his hated 
 enemies you, the haughty Mameluke beys your rights and 
 your freedom ? I, who gazed in my dying Mourad's eyes and 
 read his last thoughts, I say to you, that the sultan will not 
 rest until death has closed your lips forever, or until you have 
 closed his ! I tell you they are planning your destruction. 
 Do not ask from what source my information comes. The 
 wise man will listen and take the advice of the woman who 
 was his friend's wife. Demand this very day, that, after these 
 long-continued festivities, the grave matters that call you here 
 be immediately proceeded with ; demand that the conditions 
 on which the sultan is to make you free and independent in 
 Upper Egypt be plainly stated. And if they will not name 
 them, then embark in your boats before the sun sets, and re- 
 turn to Cairo ; for, believe me, there alone will you be safe ! 
 I come to you in the name of Destiny, by whom I have been 
 warned ! My lord and master appeared to me last night in a 
 dream, showed me his bleeding wounds, and said to me : ' Go 
 and save my friends. Say to them that the last battle has not 
 yet been fought at Aboukir, and tell them that, if they do not 
 hasten to depart, the waves that encircle Aboukir will soon be 
 reddened with their blood, as was the sand of Aboukir a few 
 years ago ! ' And therefore have I come, O Osman, to warn 
 you ! Put away from you your confidence in these treacher- 
 ous Turks. Do not hearken to the whisperings of the English- 
 men, do not rely on the promises of your enemies. Require a 
 decision this very day, and if it is not given, depart at once, 
 before the setting of the sun. Danger threatens you all, great, 
 fearful danger." 
 
 "Impossible, Sitta!" replied Osman Bey, composedly. 
 " Impossible ! We cannot depart to-day, and the decision 
 cannot be made now. But I have already demanded it, and 
 they have promised that these matters shall be arranged in the 
 course of a few days." 
 
 " In the course of a few days ! " repeated Sitta. ' You 
 have warned your enemies yourself, Osman ! They have ob-
 
 256 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 served that distrust has begun to hud in your hitherto trusting 
 heart, and with their swords and daggers they will destroy 
 the tender plant in its first growth. By Allah, I conjure you, 
 and by your love for my husband, be on your guard ; leave the 
 peninsula, and return to Cairo ! " 
 
 ' % If it were possible, Sitta, I would do it out of reverence 
 for you. But on the morrow, I promise you, I will return to 
 the continent. To-morrow, a festival takes place in Alexan- 
 dria ; Lord Balan, the English general, is to receive his troops 
 there, and the capitan pacha, who is encamped here with his 
 warriors, has invited us to participate in the festivities at Alex- 
 andria." 
 
 " Beware, oh beware, Osman ! " cried Sitta Nefysseh, ex- 
 tending her arms toward heaven. " By Allah and the proph- 
 ets, I conjure you, go not to sea with the Turks to-morrow ! 
 Listen to my words, Osman ! I have devoted servants with 
 those whom you call your friends, but who can only be your 
 enemies. One of them has informed me of their purpose. Be- 
 fore the harbor of Alexandria lies a Turkish fleet ; it lies in 
 wait for you, and your boats will not be allowed to land un- 
 less freighted with your dead bodies ! " 
 
 " This is not possible," cried the bey. recoiling a step in dis- 
 may. " They cannot have planned so fearful a deception ! 
 They cannot be so faithless ! Are they not of our religion ; 
 were the prophet's words not spoken for them as for us ? Do 
 they not know that it is written in the Koran : ' Let a man 
 hold his word sacred I Curses and shame upon him who bears 
 a lie on his lips, and yet seals it with the name of Allah and 
 the prophet ! ' No, Sitta. I tell you the capitan pacha sealed 
 his vow of friendship with the name of Allah and the prophet, 
 and the settlement of the details only was wanting to establish 
 this bond of friendship forever. No, Sitta, it is impossible 
 that they should contemplate such fearful treachery, and 
 rather will I die a victim of such treachery than cowardly flee, 
 than consider men cowards, and warriors scoundrels ! " 
 
 " Then you and yours are going to your death, Osman Bey 
 Bardissi ! " cried Nefysseh in tones of anguish. " I conjure 
 you once more, be warned, and, if you will not depart to-day, 
 at least do not follow the capitan pacha to the festival, but em-
 
 THE CAMP AT ABOCKIR. 
 
 257 
 
 ploy the time while he is absent in preparing to defend your- 
 selves. And, when they return, refuse to allow them to land 
 until they consent to come to you unarmed." 
 
 Osman Bey shook his head proudly ; and his countenance, 
 before troubled, was now radiant with courage and joy. " Sit- 
 ta Nefysseh, your noble heart is concerned for your friends, 
 and I thank you in the name of all of us. But what your 
 womanly sensitiveness fears, Osman Bey may not fear, and he 
 must not show the Turks that he distrusts them ! Allah 
 watches over us all, and his will must be fulfilled ! Why 
 should we fear ? " 
 
 " Yet Allah often warns us in our dreams, and woe to us if 
 we do not interpret them aright ! " said Sitta Nefysseh, in 
 tones of entreaty. " You insist, then, on going to Alexandria 
 to-morrow ? " 
 
 " It is so determined, Sitta, and a man keeps his word ! " 
 His arms folded on his breast, he bowed down profoundly be- 
 fore her, and kissed the hem of her flowing gold-embroidered 
 dress. 
 
 " Then may Allah accompany you ! " said she, with a pro- 
 found sigh. " But let me say one thing more. When you be- 
 hold my husband Mourad, up there, among the blessed, stand- 
 ing under the green flag of the prophet, say to him : ' Your 
 wife has done her duty, she gave Osman the warning ! She 
 is innocent of our death ! ' and say to him also that his wife 
 remains faithful to him in all things, and that she will love 
 him alone throughout life. And now, farewell, Osman Bey 
 Bardissi, and think of me in your death-hour ! " 
 
 She raised her hands as if in a blessing, and then turned 
 slowly away, drew aside the curtain, and stepped out of the 
 tent to where her slaves and eunuchs awaited her. 
 
 Slowly she walked down the pathway between the tents, 
 bowing to the right and to the left to the Mamelukes, who 
 threw themselves down before her in profound reverence 
 But when she passed by the tents of the Turks she veiled 
 her countenance more closely, and her eyes glanced angrily 
 through the delicate fabric. 
 
 " Traitors are they all ! " murmured she, as she entered the 
 tent where she dwelt with the women of Cousrouf, the second
 
 258 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Mameluke chieftain. " Yes, traitors, and our Mamelukes will 
 be their victims ! Yet I will endeavor to save as many of 
 them as possible ! " 
 
 While Sitta Nefysseh sat sorrowing on her cushion, paying 
 but little attention to the songs which the slaves sang, and to 
 the dances with which they sought to entertain tbeir mistress, 
 the joyous festivities of the Mamelukes and Turks were still 
 going on. Osman Bey had promised to show his horseman- 
 ship to-day ; and it was a beautiful spectacle to see him cours- 
 ing along on his splendidly-caparisoned black charger, his 
 sword uplifted in his hand. His eyes sparkled even more lus- 
 trously than the gems in the agraffe of the crescent on the 
 sultan's turban. In the sash that encircled his waist glittered 
 a pair of pistols and the jewelled hilt of a dagger, and who- 
 ever beheld Osman Bey said to himself : " This is a man I a 
 hero who recoils from nothing ! " Lightly bounding, his nos- 
 trils expanded, his eyes glowing, he now rode his steed around 
 the wide circle of Mamelukes and Turks. With uplifted 
 sword he then approached the horse that stood tied to a stake 
 in the middle of the circle. Trembling, and neighing anx- 
 iously, it saw the hero bearing down upon it at a full gallop ; 
 then Osman's sword glittered in the air, and the horse's head 
 fell to the ground, severed from the body by a single blow. 
 Loud and exulting shouts rewarded the bold rider for this 
 proof of his wonderful skill and strength, and Osman bowed 
 smilingly to the right and to the left, and then again drew in 
 his reins, and made his steed bound as lightly and coquettishly 
 as though it had learned its arts from the bayaderes. 
 
 Yes, Osman Bey is a great hero, and they all regard him 
 with astonishment, the Mamelukes with joyous smiles, the 
 Turks with serious countenances. While Osman Bey Bardissi 
 lives, peace with the Turks is not to be thought of ; while life 
 lasts, he will aspire to greater eminence and power. 
 
 ''How can peace be made with this powerful, haughty 
 chieftain ? " This is also murmured by the capitan pacha, 
 who stands on the deck of the admiral's ship, and he orders 
 that the Turkish ships weigh anchor, and sail out of the har- 
 bor of Alexandria. Yes, Sitta Nefysseh was right : the enemy 
 lies in wait there. Three large Turkish ships have been lying
 
 THE MASSACRE. 
 
 259 
 
 at anchor there ever since the Mameluke beys have been hold- 
 ing fetes with the Turks at Aboukir. But to-day a fourth ship 
 has arrived from Stamboul a ship manned with three hun- 
 dred well-equipped soldiers ; and her captain's name is Da- 
 man, and his lieutenant is called Mohammed AH. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MASSACRE. 
 
 THE capitan pacha had himself come over in his admiral's 
 ship to greet the newly arrived soldiers, and to review the fleet 
 of stately vessels-of-war. He graciously caused Osman, the 
 bim bashi, and Mohammed Ali, the boulouk bashi, to be pre- 
 sented to him. 
 
 "You have employed the time well during your passage," 
 said he, slightly inclining his proud head. " You have con- 
 verted rude peasants into disciplined soldiers." 
 
 "It is not my work," replied Osman, who stood attired in 
 his full uniform before the capitan pacha. " No, excellency, 
 I suffered from the unaccustomed sea-voyage, and could hard- 
 ly leave my cabin. Mohammed Ali deserves all the credit ; 
 he drilled the soldiers on the deck incessantly, day and 
 night." 
 
 " Well done, well done I " said the pacha. " His services 
 will be recognized and rewarded." 
 
 " I beg your excellency to see that they are," said Osman, 
 quickly. " Truly my boulouk bashi deserves to be rewarded. 
 I should like to take the liberty of suggesting how he can be 
 rewarded. " 
 
 With a haughty and astonished expression, the capitan 
 pacha regarded the young man that stood blushing before 
 him, his eyes sparkling with unaccustomed lustre. He con- 
 sidered it somewhat presumptuous to advise him, the capitan 
 pacha. Yet this is not a time to be ungracious. The newly- 
 arrived soldiers are to be used this very day, and should be 
 kindly and cordially treated.
 
 260 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Then tell me, him bashi, how can I reward your lieuten- 
 ant ? I will gladly do so, if it is in my power." 
 
 " You have the power, if you have the will. I beg you to 
 give the boulouk bashi my position." 
 
 " Give him your position ! And what is to become of 
 you ? " 
 
 " Of me ? " said Osman, smiling sadly. " Only what I have 
 always been a poor, weak invalid. Cousrouf Pacha, our dis- 
 tinguished guest, wished to show me a kindness, and, with this 
 intention, appointed me him bashi. Yet I at once feared that 
 my poor body would not be able to bear the fatigues of the 
 service. I am weary and exhausted, and my weak arm falls 
 to my side when I attempt to raise the sword. I beg that 
 your excellency will graciously permit me to return home 
 with the ship to Cavalla, after the soldiers shall have been dis- 
 embarked. I also entreat of your excellency that my boulouk 
 bashi be made captain in my stead." 
 
 The capitan pacha turned and looked at young Mohammed 
 Ali. Perhaps his tall, well-knit frame, and his earnest coun- 
 tenance, with its sparkling eyes, and his determined bearing, 
 impressed him favorably. 
 
 "Bim bashi, we will see what can be done. It will de- 
 pend chiefly on the events of this day, and I will observe 
 your boulouk bashi closely. If he proves capable of do- 
 ing well what I shall require of him, I give you my word 
 he shall be made bim bashi, and you shall then be per- 
 mitted to return to your home. I will, however, first ob- 
 serve your boulouk bashi, and see of what stuff he is made. 
 I have orders for you, boulouk bashi. But first tell me 
 your name." 
 
 " I am called Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim Aga," replied 
 Mohammed, inclining his head with an expression of such 
 profound reverence that the proud capitan pacha was well 
 pleased, and smiled graciously. 
 
 " Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim Aga, step aside with me ; 
 I have something to say to you. " 
 
 The pacha walked to the end of the deck, motioning to the 
 two slaves who accompanied him to withdraw ; he then turned 
 to Mohammed, who stood before him, his head bowed down in
 
 THE MASSACRE. 
 
 humility, his ear all attention to the words spoken by the 
 pacha, in low, impressive tones. 
 
 Important words, of great and dangerous import, must they 
 have been, that fell slowly one after the other, like drops of 
 blood from the pacha's lips, for, from time to time, a deathly 
 pallor overspread Mohammed Ali's cheeks, and a slight shud- 
 der coursed through his whole being. The pacha looked at 
 him keenly, and said in a low voice, " One can see that you are 
 a novice." 
 
 "Yes, a novice," replied Mohammed, "but I shall soon 
 become accustomed to blood, and cease to recoil from dead 
 bodies." 
 
 " Then you will achieve success in Egypt," said the pacha. 
 " The air here is freighted with the scent of corpses, and the 
 sea and the Nile have often been reddened with blood. We 
 will see, boulouk bashi, if the waves at our feet are not once 
 more made red with blood, and not with the rays of the set- 
 ting sun. And now, boulouk bashi, it will be shown whether 
 you have understood what I have said, and whether you are 
 the man to execute my orders." 
 
 " I am your servant, excellency," replied Mohammed, quiet- 
 ly. " The soldier has no will of his own. I am an instru- 
 ment in your bands, and I will faithfully carry out your or- 
 ders." 
 
 " Then you will awaken to-morrow as him bashi. And I 
 believe that will only be the first step toward the fame that 
 awaits you. I like you, boulouk bashi, and I wish you a bril- 
 liant career. And when you shall have reached the summit 
 of renown, then remember, boulouk bashi, that it was I who 
 gave you the key to the gates of honor. Eemember the day 
 and the hour, for I have read a great future in your counte- 
 nance." 
 
 He then inclined his head to Mohammed Ali, and returned 
 to where Osman was standing, leaning against a mast, in utter 
 exhaustion. 
 
 The pacha also spoke a few kindly words to him, and after 
 ward entered his boat to return to the shore of Aboukir. Mo- 
 hammed then walked up to his friend, took him in his arms 
 like a child, and carried him down into his cabin. He laid
 
 262 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 him on the divan, knelt down beside him, and whispered in 
 his ear : " Osman, no matter what you may see or hear, do 
 not leave your cabin to-day. Stay here, my friend, and do 
 not be anxious ; if you hear a tumultuous noise, and outcries, 
 do not be alarmed, even if death-groans should resound from 
 the deck. The world is a hard thing, and he whose hands are 
 not of iron should hold himself aloof from its rude contact. 
 You, my Osman, are too good to play an active rdle in this 
 miserable earthly existence ; and I am, therefore, almost glad 
 that you are to return to Cavalla ; I repeat it, you are too 
 good for this world." 
 
 "If it depended on goodness, Mohammed," said Osman, 
 smiling, " you should not serve the world either, for you have 
 a better heart than any of us." 
 
 Mohammed shook his head. " You are mistaken, you look 
 at me with your kindly eyes, and give me credit for your no- 
 ble thoughts. I am not good, no, do not believe that of me ! 
 Now that we are about to separate, I do not wish you to be de- 
 ceived in your Mohammed Ali ; I am only good when with 
 you, and under the influence of your gentle nature ; I fear I 
 have the stuff in me of which hard and cruel men are made. 
 But let us drop this subject. Duty calls me away. And let 
 me repeat this, Osman, whatever outcries you may hear, what- 
 ever fearful noises may resound through your cabin, remain 
 quietly here ; remain here in peace, my Osman. The pack 
 will soon be let loose, and your Mohammed, whom you call 
 good, has been chosen by Fate to howl with it, and make com- 
 mon cause with the bloodhounds. Do not speak, Osman. 
 Through blood must I march onward to my goal ! There is 
 no other road. Farewell, and remain here." 
 
 He ascended hastily to the deck, called the soldiers together, 
 spoke to them for a long time in low, impressive tones, and 
 issued his orders. They listened attentively to his words, and 
 then hastily began to carry out his orders. They load their 
 guns, try the locks, and then repair to the port-holes on the 
 lower deck, and hold themselves in readiness to fire at the 
 word of command. 
 
 There is to be a merry chase to-day. But after what game ? 
 Who has seen it ? No one knows as yet.
 
 THE MASSACRE. 263 
 
 The boulouk bashi will give the signal, and when he says 
 " Fire ! " they will fire, no matter at what or at whom. The 
 command will be given, and they will obey. It will be their 
 first deed of arms, their baptism of fire. 
 
 The hour has not yet come. Mohammed is standing on the 
 deck above, leaning against the mast, his arms crossed on his 
 breast, looking over toward the shores of Aboukir. 
 
 There all is gayety ; the decorated boats dance merrily and 
 rapidly over the waves ; the Mameluke beys are going by sea 
 to Alexandria, to take part in the festival of the newly-arrived 
 admiral. There will be warlike games and races ; a grand 
 banquet is prepared for the guests ; there will be music, danc- 
 ing, and singing ; altogether it will be a most brilliant festi- 
 val. The Mameluke beys esteem themselves happy in having 
 been invited by the capitan pacha to take part in this glorious 
 festival. To-morrow peace will be concluded between them 
 and the grand-sultan. To-morrow their lands will be given 
 them and the boundaries determined, but let to-day be a, fete 
 day, a day of rejoicing. 
 
 Mourad's widow, Sitta Nefysseh, is standing at the entrance 
 of her tent, her countenance closely veiled, looking at the 
 Mamelukes who are going down to the shore to their boats. 
 She sees that the Turks stand aside, and that only the Mame- 
 lukes enter the boats. 
 
 "You are not going with us ? " ask the astonished beys of 
 their Turkish friends. They shake their heads, and only step 
 farther back from the shore. 
 
 "No, ye proud beys, this honor is for you alone, you alone 
 go with the capitan, you alone are invited to attend the grand 
 festival of the English admiral, Lord Hutchinson. We re- 
 main here to await longingly your return, in order that you 
 may tell us of the brilliant festival. We remain here ! ' 
 
 " They remain," repeated Sitta Nefysseh ; " they remain be- 
 cause death goes with the others in their boats. O Osman 
 Bardissi ! why would you not hearken to my words ? I shall 
 remain also, to await our dead." 
 
 In the large, richly-decorated boat, stood the capitan pacha, 
 and beside him the chief Mameluke beys ; among them are 
 Osman Bardissi, the hero, the favorite of all the women, and
 
 264 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Osman Tamboudji, now one of the most distinguished of all 
 the beys. These two, especially, have been invited by the 
 capitan to sail with him in his boat, and while with him what 
 have they to fear ? 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh murmurs to herself : 
 
 "He takes them into his boat in order to deceive them. 
 This is surely to conceal some trickery, and when the boat 
 lands at Alexandria, the capitan pacha will not be with the 
 Mameluke beys." 
 
 The Mamelukes have entered the boats joyously, and joy- 
 ously they sail out over the waves, toward the shores of Alex- 
 andria. 
 
 The day is beautiful, and the sunshine glitters upon the 
 water ; laughter and jesting resound from every boat ; but 
 now, when Osman Bardissi begins to sing a warlike song, a]l 
 are silent and listen attentively. He sings words with which 
 he has often led his hosts out to battle. And the rest, at the 
 end of each verse of the glorious old song, sbout exultingly 
 from boat to boat, and unite in the joyous chorus : 
 
 " The bey lifts high his sword, and down it sweeps upon 
 his proud foe's head ! Down swoops the bey, and raises high 
 in air the severed head, and, when he homeward rides, the 
 head hangs dangling at his saddle's side ! " 
 
 " A beautiful, a glorious song ! " exclaims the capitan, as it 
 is ended, and its last accords resound over the waters. 
 
 But what is this ? A strong boat is approaching, the 
 admiral's boat of some strange vessel that has probably only 
 just arrived in the harbor. Signals are given in the boat, and 
 a flag is waved. The flag proclaims what the capitan 
 expected. The young boulouk bashi, who stands in the 
 admiral's boat, holds up a folded paper. It is an official letter, 
 the large red seals that hang from it by silken strings show it 
 to be such. The capitan pacha calls the attention of the Mame- 
 luke beys to the boat now rapidly approaching. 
 
 "Alas, the service leaves one no time, not even a short 
 hour, for recreation and merrymaking. See. here comes 
 another messenger ! What can he want ? The capitan pasha 
 is, after all, a mere servant. See ! The messenger holds the 
 paper higher and beckons to me. No, he shall not break in
 
 THE MASSACRE. 
 
 265 
 
 upon the joy of our festival with his presence ! This beau- 
 tiful boat shall not be desecrated with business matters I 
 Come closer, and I will get into your boat and read the 
 letter." 
 
 "But after you have read it, capitan Pacha," says Osman 
 Bardissi, in a frank, kindly voice, ''after you have read it 
 and have disposed of this annoying business matter, you 
 will come back to our boat, will you not ? we will wait for 
 you." 
 
 '' Yes, wait for me ! But it may, after all, be necessary for 
 me to return, to attend to some important affairs with my 
 officials, instead of enjoying myself with you. Therefore you 
 had best go on, my friends, and, if Allah permits me to join 
 you in your festivities to-day, I will hoist a signal, and you 
 can stop for me and take me in again." The capitan then 
 steps into the strange boat. The two proud beys see him 
 take the paper from the hands of the stranger boulouk bashi, 
 break the seals, and read it. 
 
 With his eagle glance, Osman Bey Bardissi observes that 
 the capitan pacha's countenance becomes gradually clouded as 
 he reads. 
 
 " He will not have time to return to us," says Tamboudji 
 Bey, who stands at his side. " It seems that grave intelligence 
 has reached him. Yes, it is so," the boat being rapidly rowed 
 toward the admiral's ship. "But look, Osman Bey ! " he cries, 
 in alarm, as he raises his arm and points to the departing 
 boat, " look, there are swords in the boat ! " 
 
 " Yes, I see ! Swords, Turkish swords ! What are they in 
 there for ? " 
 
 " That is what I should like to know," replies the other, 
 nervously grasping the pistol in his girdle. " See, a ship is 
 rapidly approaching, and the capitan is steering toward it ! 
 But that is not his ship ! Where does it come from ? What 
 is it doing here ? " 
 
 The countenance of the Mameluke chieftains is now 
 threatening. They observe the ship, rapidly approaching, 
 with an eagle's glance. They see the capitan ascend its side ; 
 they see the portholes filled with glittering muskets. 
 
 "Treachery ! This is treachery !" cries Bardissi. 
 18
 
 266 MOHAMMED ALI AND UIS HOUSE. 
 
 And he turns toward the other boats, and cries out to them : 
 " Grasp your swords and prepare to defend yourselves. We 
 are betrayed. The capitan pacha has deceived us, and " a 
 ball whistling close by his ear at this moment " to your swords 
 and pistols, my friends ; the enemy and treachery are 
 upon us ! " 
 
 The Turks are rowing rapidly down upon them in their 
 boats, while volleys of musketry are being discharged at them 
 from the ship that is approaching nearer and nearer, follow- 
 ing the Turkish troops that man the boats. 
 
 " Onward," cries Bardissi to his followers. " Onward ! 
 "We may escape. We may, if we make every effort, succeed 
 in reaching Alexandria." 
 
 With the speed of the wind the boats sweep onward, and 
 now turn into the bay of Aboukir. 
 
 The Mamelukes all cry, " Treachery ! treachery ! " and 
 very one sees the three Turkish ships bearing down upon 
 them from the front, while the boats and the strange vessel 
 are coming upon them from the rear. From that direction 
 <jomes the order, " Fire ! fire ! " 
 
 " Death-shrieks resound everywhere among the boats. But 
 the proud Mamelukes are at least resolved to sell their lives 
 dearly. They reply from their boats to the shots. Now the 
 enemy's boats are among them, and a murderous but unequal 
 conflict rages. The three men-of-war send whole volleys 
 into the boats of the Mamelukes. 
 
 "Of what use to fire their pistols, how can they reload 
 them ? Of what avail to draw their swords against the over- 
 whelming foe ? 
 
 They can only die, and die they must. The flower of the 
 hero-beys was gathered together in these boats, and is now 
 being stamped under foot is perishing, the victim of 
 infamous treachery. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh looks on in horror from where she lies on 
 the shore of Aboukir. With outstretched arms she implores 
 Allah for mercy, for revenge ; and now, as the volleys of 
 artillery resound over the waters, she cries in earnest, piercing 
 tones : 
 
 " O Mourad, my husband ! thou who art at Allah's side ;
 
 THE MASSACRE. 267 
 
 thou who seest this treachery, implore vengeance upon the 
 enemy ! '' 
 
 Yes, she prays to Allah and the prophet for vengeance. 
 But whOe she prays, the blood of the Mamelukes is flowing in 
 streams, saturating the costly carpets in the boats, and begin- 
 ning to color the surrounding water. 
 
 A cry of rage resounds from Bardissi's lips. His friend 
 Osman Tamboudji has just been stretched out at his feet 
 by a ball. He has thrown away his pistol, and now 
 grasps the hilt of his dagger, when he is suddenly stricken 
 down by a blow upon the head, dealt from behind. The 
 vessels have completely surrounded the Mamelukes ; the 
 Turks on the ships jump down into the boats to assist 
 the others, and the work of slaughter is soon ended. All 
 is now still. Those who are not dead lie severely wounded 
 in the boats. The Turks return to their vessels, and the 
 boulouk bashi orders the wounded to be brought on 
 board. 
 
 The order is executed ; the dead are left in the boats, and 
 the wounded are carried on board. 
 
 They now lift up the wounded man who lies beside the 
 dead bey, in the large boat in which they had first seen the 
 capitan standing with the two beys. 
 
 " Bring him up the ladder," cries the boulouk bashi. 
 
 He is unconscious, and is bleeding from three wounds. 
 But even in this condition he still grasps his dagger so ftrmlj 
 that it cannot be torn from his hand, and as the soldiers 
 attempt it he awakens and opens his eyes. 
 
 " You are treacherous scoundrels, all of you ! Osman Bey 
 Bardissi declares you to be such." 
 
 The boulouk bashi starts as he hears this name, steps for- 
 ward and gazes long and earnestly at the bey, whom he had 
 once seen as a boy. 
 
 Must he meet him now in this condition ? His gaze 
 fixed on him, and he tries to recognize in his features the boy 
 
 of former days. 
 
 "You are scoundrels ! " cries, for the second time, the proud 
 chieftain. "Ye slaves of bloody tyranny-ye murderous, 
 treacherous villains shame and disgrace upon you all
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Before Allah's throne will I accuse you, ye treacherous, slav- 
 ish Turks." 
 
 With cries of rage they throw themselves upon him to 
 strangle him. 
 
 But an arm hurls them back with a giant's strength. 
 
 " Do you wish to murder those who can no longer defend 
 themselves ? Back ! The life of the wounded, of the van- 
 quished enemy, is sacred." 
 
 Bardissi, who has again fallen back exhausted, looks up in 
 astonishment at the stranger who protected him, and was even 
 angry with his own soldiers on his account. How comes it 
 that this traitor's heart is touched ? 
 
 Mohammed kneels down beside him. 
 
 " What is your name ? " asks he, in low tones. 
 
 " Osman Bey Bardissi, 1 ' replied the wounded man, and now, 
 exhausted as he was from loss of blood, a proud smile flittered 
 over his handsome countenance. "Not knowing me, you 
 must be a stranger in Egypt," added he. 
 
 " Yes, I am a stranger in Egypt, and this accounts for my 
 not knowing you. Yet, it seems to me that we once met ; 
 were you not once on the shores of the bay of Sta. Marmora ?" 
 
 " Yes, I was once there ! " 
 
 " Do you recollect meeting a boy there ? You spoke to him 
 of your proud future." 
 
 u I remember," murmured the bey. 
 
 " And you spoke proud, contemptuous words to this boy. 
 Do you still remember his name ? " 
 
 " I do ; he was called Mohammed Ali, and I told him my 
 name, Osman Bey. Were you the boy ? " 
 
 " I was, and there we first met, and now we meet again. 1 
 regret, Osman Bey, that we meet as enemies." 
 
 Osman Bey Bardissi shook his head slowly. " We were 
 enemies, Mohammed Ali ; yet, if Allah permits me to live, you 
 shall soon learn that you have found a friend. I well know 
 that I owe you my life, and I shall be grateful while life lasts." 
 
 He ceased speaking, and again lost consciousness. 
 Mohammed beckoned to one of the soldiers to approach. 
 " Carry this man to my cabin, and let no one dare to touch 
 him with a rude hand. He is my prisoner."
 
 RESTITUTION. 269 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 RESTITUTION. 
 
 ; *OUE Mamelukes have been treacherously slaughtered, 
 murdered ! They have been lured out upon the water near 
 Aboukir in their boats, and then fired upon by murderous 
 huntsmen as though they were a flock of pigeons. If you are 
 an honest and brave man, general, proved by mercifully es- 
 pousing the cause of those who were lured to destruction in 
 your name yes, in your name, General Hutchinson yes, it 
 devolves upon you, and your honor requires that you compel 
 them, to yield up the wounded and the dead." 
 
 Thus lamented Sitta Nefysseh as she knelt before General 
 Hutchinson, her arms extended in wild entreaty. She had 
 come over to Alexandria from Aboukir, and she it was who 
 first brought the intelligence of the fearful event that had oc- 
 curred, who first announced to the English general that the 
 beys had fallen victims to infamous treachery. 
 
 The general, incensed at this shameful abuse of confidence, 
 immediately dispatched two of his adjutants to the capitan 
 pacha, to demand an explanation and call him to account for 
 the outrage. 
 
 The pacha was, however, not to be found. " They did not 
 know where he had gone,'' was the reply ; " but Lord Hutch- 
 inson 's message should be conveyed to him as soon as possible, 
 and he would certainly send some one to the general who 
 would give satisfactory explanations of the affair." 
 
 Soon afterward a boat came to shore, and the boulouk bashi, 
 Mohammed Ali, demanded, in the name of the capitan pacha, 
 to be conducted to the presence of the English general. With 
 an air of profound deference and humility, he delivered the 
 message of the capitan pacha, and expressed his own regret of 
 the fearful event that had occurred. 
 
 '* It was a misunderstanding. I myself was to blame for it, 
 and bow in humility before your just anger ! The capitan 
 pacha had commanded me to arrest the rebellious Mameluke 
 beys, and bring them on board the admiral's ship, in order
 
 270 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 that they might be conveyed to Stamboul. His orders were, 
 that no resistance should be tolerated, and that severe 
 measures should be adopted at the first manifestation of vio- 
 lence on their part. Sir, such manifestations were not want- 
 ing, and I had no sooner come near the boats which contained 
 the rebellious Mameluke beys, when they grasped their arms, 
 and threatened us with wild gestures. We fought for life, 
 general, not knowing that our lives were, in your estimation, 
 as nothing to those mighty, renowned Mameluke beys. We 
 fought for our lives, as they did theirs.; and, if the Mamelukes 
 were vanquished in this conflict, it was, it seems to me, Allah's 
 will. Yet, I beg pardon for what has happened, and repeat, in 
 the name of the capitan pacha, it was a misunderstanding oh, 
 sir, a deplorable misunderstanding ! " 
 
 The general shrugged his shoulders, and glanced angrily at 
 the quiet, defiant countenance of the young officer. 
 
 " A very welcome misunderstanding it seems to have been 
 to all of you. A misunderstanding you call it ; and did you 
 not know that I, Lord Hutchinson, had pledged my word to 
 the Mameluke beys that their lives should not be endan- 
 gered ? Did you not know that they had come to me to in- 
 quire whether they could safely trust the Turks, and that I, in 
 my blindness, had said to them : ' You can safely trust them ; 
 they are men of honor, and they have solemnly pledged their 
 word for your security ? ' You have broken the holy law of 
 your prophet, of hospitality, and have betrayed those to whom 
 you had extended the hand of friendship." 
 
 " Not so, general, by Allah ! Of such a crime I could not 
 be guilty," replied Mohammed, quietly. " I broke no bread, 
 and exchanged no vows of friendship, with the Mamelukes. 
 I have only just arrived from a distant land, and know noth- 
 ing of your enmities or friendships. My orders were, to ar- 
 rest the Mamelukes, and bring them fettered to the admiral's 
 ship. If I misunderstood the order, I was wrong, but no such 
 crime burdens my soul, and I cannot be justly accused of 
 broken faith or treachery. I have nothing more to say. I 
 submit humbly to your displeasure, and can only repeat that 
 I deplore the misunderstanding." 
 
 " Your quiet, defiant bearing is, it seems to me, inconsist-
 
 RESTITUTION. 
 
 271 
 
 ent with your words. I deplore this treachery, and deplore it 
 doubly, because my assurances lulled the beys into a sense of 
 security. But I tell you I will have justice, satisfaction for 
 this outrage ; I will call you all to account. Go to your mas- 
 ter and say to him, in my name, that his treatment of the 
 Mameluke beys has been treacherous." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied the boulouk bashi, composedly, " but 
 perhaps your excellency does not know what commands re- 
 specting these Mameluke beys were given the capitan pacha 
 by his master, by the Sublime Porte." 
 
 " I read in your countenance what the sultan's intentions 
 and commands were, and see it in what has occurred. It is 
 his purpose to destroy the Mamelukes, whom he has entrapped 
 with nattering words and loving promises. But it shall not 
 be done while I am here. I demand justice and satisfaction 
 for myself. Let the world pronounce you Turks liars and 
 traitors, but the same shall not be said of me and my people ! 
 I have pledged my word and the honor of England for the 
 safety of the Mamelukes, and, though I cannot recall the dead 
 to life, I will at least care for the living. Go to your master 
 and tell him this : ' Lord Hutchinson demands that all the 
 captured Mameluke beys be immediately brought to the shore 
 and placed under his protection. Lord Hutchinson insists 
 that they be at once set at liberty, and that they shall not be 
 regarded as prisoners of the grand-sultan.' " 
 
 " Excellency, it will be very difficult to comply with your 
 demands," replied Mohammed. " An alternative has just 
 been offered the prisoners. I was present, and can vouch for 
 it they were to choose between death by the sword and sub- 
 mission. Not one of the beys, however, chose to die rather 
 than submit. They swore on the holy Koran that they would 
 remain the prisoners of the Turks, and make no effort to have 
 themselves demanded back by the English, and, as they have 
 nevertheless done so, and sent to you, they have broken their 
 holy oath." 
 
 " They have not done so," replied Lord Hutchinson. '' I 
 heard of this infamous treachery by other means ; others in- 
 formed me of what has occurred. I am, therefore, entirely 
 justified in making my demand ; moreover, the oath obtained
 
 272 MOIIAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 from them by the threat of death is valueless. I insist that 
 the Mamelukes who are still alive be delivered over to 
 me, and the dead also, in order that I may count them and 
 assure myself that none have been kept back as prisoners. 
 Go, and tell your master this, and say to him that a refusal on 
 his part will be equivalent to a declaration of war by England. 
 My ships lie at anchor in the harbor of Alexandria awaiting 
 his decision, and they are ready for war. Tell this to the 
 capitan pacha." 
 
 With a respectful inclination of the head Mohammed with- 
 drew, and, returning to his boat, was rapidly conveyed on 
 board the admiral's ship, where the capitan pacha awaited 
 him. 
 
 The latter listened attentively to the report of the boulouk 
 bashi, and inclined his head graciously when told that he 
 had taken the sole responsibility upon himself, and had at- 
 tributed the much-to-be-regretted-occurrence to a misunder- 
 standing. 
 
 u You did well," said the capitan pacha. " Why should 
 we not appear to regret this deed of bloodshed, now that it is 
 accomplished ? Why not deplore that which is irrevocable ? 
 Death holds fast to its victims. The living, we must, how- 
 ever, deliver over to the stormy Englishman, as I have no de- 
 sire to take upon myself the responsibility of a war with Eng- 
 land. Moreover, I shall be well pleased to leave this place. 
 My work is done. Let the newly appointed viceroy see what 
 he can do with these Mamelukes. Egypt is dripping with 
 blood, and the atmosphere of this land is freighted with the 
 scent of corpses. I can no longer endure it, and am about to 
 return to beautiful, sunny Stamboul. Let my last deed be to 
 comply with the demand of this haughty Englishman. Have 
 the wounded put into the boats, Bim Bashi Mohammed Ali ; 
 you understand me I call you bim bashi. You may inform 
 your friend, Bim Bashi Osman, that his request is granted ; you 
 will take his place, and it rests with you to make it the step- 
 ping-stone to future greatness. I believe such will be the 
 case, for I can read your soul in your eyes ; and this one thing, 
 it seems to me, you still have to learn : to keep your eyes 
 from betraying your thoughts. Remember that this is essen-
 
 RESTITUTION. 
 
 273 
 
 tial to success. And now, you may have the prisoners con- 
 veyed to the shore. Lord Hutchinson shall count the living, 
 and the dead, too ; not one of his favorites shall he withheld ! 
 When this is done, him bashi, return to the ship on which you 
 came. Are the soldiers disembarked ? " 
 
 " Yes, excellency, and already, I believe, on the march to 
 Cairo." 
 
 " It is well," said the pacha ; " let them figure at the 
 grand entrance of the viceroy into Cairo. I will intrust you 
 with a message to his highness, and will recommend you to 
 him as a useful man. Cousrouf Pacha has need of such 
 men." 
 
 Mohammed started at the mention of this name, but quick- 
 ly recovered his composure, and bowed his head in gratitude. 
 
 " You make me happy, indeed ! You will send me to Cous- 
 rouf Pacha. I thank you, for it has long been my most ardent 
 wish to be in his service." 
 
 " It has long been your wish ! " said the capitan pacha, 
 in surprise. "I thought you had only been here a short 
 time ? " 
 
 " True, excellency, yet I have heard much of the great 
 Cousrouf Pacha in my distant home, and to serve him was 
 my most ardent wish. I swear, capitan pacha, that I will 
 serve him as my heart prompts." 
 
 " But then it depends on what your heart prompts," said 
 the pacha, casting a long, searching glance at the pale coun- 
 tenance of the young him bashi. " The tone in which you 
 say this has a strange ring, and sounds almost like a threat ! 
 Yet, deal with his highness, Cousrouf Pacha, as you think 
 proper, and serve him as your heart prompts. I will recom- 
 mend you to him. We are good friends, the viceroy and I, 
 very good friends, and I have no doubt it will sadden him to 
 see me escape out of this confusion, which will require bold 
 and fearless management at his hands. I go to Stamboul, you 
 go to Cousrouf Pacha to serve him to serve him as your 
 heart prompts, you say ? " 
 
 " Yes, excellency, as my heart prompts, in humility and 
 devotion." 
 
 " Now you may go ; I will furnish you with a written
 
 27-i MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 testimonial, and warmly recommend you to the viceroy, as I 
 have promised. " 
 
 He dismissed the young bim bashi with a gracious inclina- 
 tion of the head, and the latter returned to his ship to see that 
 the prisoners were conveyed to the shore. He walked beside 
 Osman Bey Bardissi as he was being carried down 011 p. 
 stretcher to a boat, by four soldiers, speaking kind, consoling 
 words to the wounded man, and expressing the hope that 
 Allah, in his mercy, would soon restore him to health, as his 
 injuries were light. 
 
 Bardissi gazed at him fixedly with his dark, glittering 
 eyes. " And is it then really true, Mohammed Ali are we to 
 be conveyed to the shore and set at liberty ? Are we not to 
 die?" 
 
 " It is true. Lord Hutchinson demands that you be set at 
 liberty. The capitan has consented, and you are now to be 
 conveyed to the shore." 
 
 " Is it not a new trap set for us ? Will the bottom of our 
 boats not open, and let us sink down into the sea ? " 
 
 " You are to be delivered up to the Englishman," replied 
 Mohammed Ali, quietly. 
 
 " I do not trust the word of the capitan pacha,*' said Bar- 
 dissi, shaking his head. " Give me your word, Mohammed Ali, 
 that we shall be safely conveyed to the shore I will believe 
 you. Tell me, truly, shall we not be cast into the sea, or as- 
 sassinated before we reach the land ? " 
 
 " No, Osman Bey Bardissi, no ! You will land safely, and 
 if it be Allah's will, a day will come when Mohammed Ali 
 will extend his hand to you and call you his friend. Who- 
 knows ? Allah's sun shines everywhere. Men call them- 
 selves friends to-day, who but yesterday were enemies ; and 
 the friends of to-day may to-morrow be enemies. Allah's 
 will alone decides our destiny ! " 
 
 " To-day you call yourself my enemy," said Bardissi, *' but 
 I already call you my friend ! You have preserved my life, 
 and, by Allah, Bardissi swears that you are henceforth his 
 friend ! If you should ever need a friend, call Bardissi, the 
 Mameluke bey, and he will hear your call wherever he may 
 be, if not above with Allah. And now, farewell ! "
 
 RESTITUTION. 275 
 
 " Farewell, and may Allah restore you to health ! " said 
 Mohammed, in a low voice. "I am thinking of the hour 
 when we two foolish boys first met, and tried to outdo each 
 other in vain and frivolous words. Men speak little, hut think 
 much, and prepare for the future. Allah's blessing attend 
 you ! " 
 
 Mohammed returned to the deck of the ship, and looked 
 down at the boats that were now steering with their bleed- 
 ing, groaning burden toward the shore. Lord Hutchinsou, 
 who had ordered everything to be held in readiness for im- 
 mediate conflict should his demand not be complied with, 
 stood on the shore with his staff, awaiting the arrival of the 
 boats. His eyes filled with tears as he saw them approach. 
 " Forgive me, poor, bleeding victims of treachery, for having 
 allowed myself to be deceived by flatteries and promises ! " 
 
 The wounded bowed their heads, and looked at him almost 
 compassionately. 
 
 " It is well that there are men who can still be deceived, 
 who still have faith in the word and honor of men. We will 
 trust them no more, and will have vengeance for this deed of 
 treachery, bloody vengeance on him who is about to enter our 
 holy city as king. Our curse accompany him to the holy 
 mosque, and, wherever he may go, may it rest beside him on 
 his couch in the citadel ! Cairo, the holy, the beloved, is ours. 
 We will fight him who calls himself viceroy, and contend with 
 him for every inch of land. And you, brave Englishmen, will 
 help us in our struggle, will you not ? " 
 
 Lord Hutchinson shook his head. 
 
 " No, Osman Bey Bardissi ! God be praised, we are about 
 to leave here ! my king and my duty call me away, and I am 
 pleased that it is so. Continue your conflict with the Turks, 
 and I confess I wish you success in your struggle. I am glad 
 that I shall no longer be compelled to breathe this air, polluted 
 with treachery ! Your rescue is my last act here. Now, let 
 us go and see whether any of you are missing. They shall 
 bring you all here ; I swear it by my king ; I will have you 
 all, and not one shall be withheld !" 
 
 Three of the number who had gone out in the boats in the 
 morning were missing.
 
 276 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " These three must be brought here ! " 
 
 This was the import of Lord Hutchinson's message to the 
 capitan pacha ; and the latter, all complacency and obedience, 
 now that the bloody work was done, sent out divers to look for 
 the dead in the sea. They were recovered, and humbly de- 
 posited at the feet of the Englishman. 
 
 While Lord Hutchinson and Sitta Nefysseh returned with 
 the wounded to Alexandria, where the wives of the disabled 
 and dead Mamelukes were weeping and lamenting, Moham- 
 med Ali returned to the ship. The soldiers were nearly all 
 disembarked ; silence reigned in the ship, and its blood-stained 
 deck alone bore evidence of the murderous deed that had been 
 done. 
 
 Mohammed caused these stains to be hastily removed ; he 
 well knew that these traces of bloody treachery would be 
 viewed by the delicate and sensitive Osman with horror. 
 
 He then went down into the cabin to his friend. Osman 
 received him with outstretched arms, gazing at him sadly but 
 tenderly. 
 
 " I have done as you requested, Mohammed, and have not 
 left my cabin, though alarmed by the cries and tumult above 
 me. I knew my Mohammed had bloody work to do. I was 
 sorry for you, and yet I knew that you could not prevent 
 it." 
 
 " No, I could not prevent it," said Mohammed, gloomily ; 
 ''and yet, Osman, my soul shudders when I think of it. I 
 have received to-day the baptism of my new existence, and it 
 is no longer the Mohammed you loved who stands before you. 
 I have to-day been compelled to lend a helping hand to treach- 
 ery, but it was Allah's will, and the soldier must obey his 
 superior's commands. I obeyed, Osman, nothing more. The 
 curse of this evil deed does not fall on me. Though my hand 
 is blood-stained, it is yet innocent." 
 
 " You have undergone a fearful baptism," murmured Os- 
 man, shuddering. " I read it in your pale countenance, my 
 Mohammed a fearful baptism. You must, however, march 
 on boldly in your career. Do you now understand why 
 Osman was so anxious to accept the position of captain of 
 the troops ? Do you now understand why I took this step, and
 
 RESTITUTION. 
 
 277 
 
 do you now comprehend my love and friendship, Moham- 
 med ? " 
 
 " I understand it all, and I bless you, my Osman, creator 
 of my new existence ! I thank you, Osman ; and when after 
 long years the fame of your Mohammed's deeds shall reach 
 your ear, when my mother's dream is fulfilled, and I am 
 crowned and seated on a throne that stands on the summit of 
 a palace, then remember, my Osman, that you are the creator 
 of my fortune, and that Mohammed Ali blesses his friend with 
 every breath. I swear eternal love and friendship for you, 
 my Osman, and I swear, too, that the thought of you shall 
 make me mild and humane toward my enemies." 
 
 " Even when you stand before your enemy, Cousrouf Pacha, 
 Mohammed ? " asked Osman. 
 
 u Why do you name him at such a time ? " murmured Mo- 
 hammed, with a slight shudder. " Do you know that I am to 
 be sent to him ? The capitan pacha perhaps observed, by my 
 manner and voice, that I also do not love Cousrouf Pacha, 
 whom he hates ; he warmly recommends me to him, and t am 
 to go to him to serve him." 
 
 " And will you enter his service ? " asked Osman. 
 " I will do so," replied Mohammed ; " and I have sworn 
 that I will serve the Viceroy of Egypt as my heart prompts." 
 Both were still for a while, and seemed disinclined to break 
 the silence. 
 
 " You will serve him as your heart prompts," said Osman, 
 in a low voice. " In this case, do you think Cousrouf Pacha 
 will long remain great and mighty in Cairo ? " 
 Mohammed smiled faintly. 
 
 " Osman, I am almost disposed to be afraid of you. Your 
 question tells me that you read my most secret thoughts. Let 
 your question remain unanswered for the present. I will 
 communicate with you from time to time, Osman, and send 
 you loving messages, you may rest assured. I have one re- 
 quest to make still : when you return home to Cavalla. greet 
 the wife that you gave me, and also greet and kiss my chil- 
 dren. And then, Osman, if you are able, go down to the cliffs, 
 take up a stone from the shore and throw it into the sea, and 
 when the circles form around the place where it went down,
 
 278 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 and the waves curl upon the shore, say this : ' Mohammed 
 greets you, Masa, and he begins the work of holy vengeance ! 
 Rest quietly in your grave, Masa ; Mohammed Ali is keeping 
 watch for you and for himself ; the work of vengeance is 
 begun ! ' " 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE VICEROY OF EGYPT. 
 
 TO-DAY all Cairo is in a state of joyous excitement. The 
 days of want and care have passed who now remembers the 
 terrors of yesterday ? Who still remembers the days when 
 the Frank ruled here, when the terrible general made the peo- 
 ple bow their heads beneath the yoke? Yes, on this same 
 square of the Esbekieh, have they lain in the dust before the 
 mighty general who stood before them a giant, though small 
 in stature. Who still thinks of the misery and disgrace of 
 those days ? Forgotten ! all forgotten ! Two years are a long 
 period for the remembrance of a people ; and two years have 
 passed since Bonaparte departed, and more than a year has 
 elapsed since the last of the Franks withdrew from Egypt. 
 
 " All hail the new viceroy sent us by our master in Stam- 
 boul ! he will make us happy, and relieve us of the unending 
 struggles of the Mameluke beys ! Long live Cousrouf Pacha, 
 our new viceroy ! " 
 
 These cries rend the air as the surging crowds make their 
 way toward Boulak, from which place Cousrouf Pacha is to 
 make his grand entrance into the holy city. All the authori- 
 ties have assembled there to participate in the celebration ; 
 there are the ulemas in their long caftans, and the sheiks in 
 their green robes, the crescent embroidered on their turbans in 
 token of their dignity ; there are also the generals of the Turk- 
 ish and English regiments, the latter only remaining in Cairo 
 to take part in the festivities of the viceroy's entrance. And 
 now the new ruler approaches in his splendor. The Nile, 
 broad as it is at Boulak, is nevertheless covered with boats, in 
 which the viceroy is approaching with his numerous and glit-
 
 THE VICEROY OF EGYPT. 279 
 
 tering suite. He stands on the deck of a large boat, surround- 
 ed by a group of distinguished Turks and Englishmen ; all 
 the consuls of the friendly powers are with him, and this 
 seems to the shouting populace a guarantee of returning 
 peace. 
 
 The boat is brought alongside the bridge of boats that con- 
 nects Boulak with the opposite shore. As Cousrouf Pacha 
 now steps out upon the bridge covered with costly carpets and 
 strewed with flowers, thousands of voices from both shores 
 hail the viceroy as their deliverer with shouts of joy. The 
 pacha bows a kindly greeting in every direction, and then 
 casts a glance toward the horizon, where, in the purple dis- 
 tance, the pyramids stand out, sharply defined against the sky. 
 He bows his head still more profoundly, and remembers that 
 he is now the successor of the great Pharaohs who erected 
 these monuments to themselves. 
 
 " I, too, will erect such a monument. After thousands of 
 years the world shall still speak of me of the Viceroy, per- 
 haps of the King, of Egypt." 
 
 Such are his thoughts as he walks across the bridge to the 
 carriage of state in which he is to make his entrance. The ule- 
 mas receive him. " Long live the ambassador of the prophet ! 
 Long live the blessed of Allah ! " resound from the lips of the 
 thousands assembled upon the shore and in the streets of the 
 city. 
 
 How radiant is Cousrouf Pacha's countenance ! How little 
 the viceroy of to-day resembles the exiled pacha of the past, 
 during his weary sojourn in Cavalla, with nothing to enliven 
 him but his little struggle with the boy Mohammed and his 
 harem ! A land is now at his feet. Onward the procession 
 moves through the crowds that throng the streets ; they have 
 now turned into the Muskj Street the beautiful street, the 
 pride of the inhabitants, with its old-fashioned, lofty houses. 
 Onward the procession moves toward the citadel. There, in 
 the beautiful palace, will the viceroy be enthroned. " Long 
 live our new ruler ! Long live our viceroy ! " These are the 
 cries that greet him throughout his entire march to the cita- 
 del ; and these cries still rend the air long after Cousrouf 
 Pacha has entered the palace, at whose gates he had been re-
 
 280 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 ceived by the grand dignitaries of the land. He greeted them 
 all in brief but kindly terms, and then retired to the private 
 apartments of his palace. 
 
 He now reclines on his cushions, thinking of his past and 
 of his future. A glad smile lights up his countenance. The 
 way was long and weary, but its obstacles have now been over- 
 come. Once he was a slave, but he had sworn to struggle for 
 a great aim. He has kept his oath. Here he is the first, the 
 ruler. Who knows but he may yet completely cast off the 
 burden of dependence, and become absolutely free? Every 
 thing rests on the acquisition of good and faithful friends and 
 servants, and he will acquire such. It is so easy for the great 
 to acquire friends ! Is not the capitan pacha his friend ? Does 
 he not owe all that he is to him ? He has elevated him from 
 the dust, and made him commander of the army with which 
 he has come over from Turkey. Yes, he is a true and devoted 
 friend, and he will easily find others. His power will become 
 great great as all Egypt. He rises, calls one of the Nubian 
 slaves, and bids him show him the way to the walls of the 
 citadel. 
 
 The slave opens a secret door that leads into a narrow pas- 
 sage and upon the outer wall of the citadel. Motioning to the 
 slave to remain in the passage, Cousrouf steps out, and then 
 stands still, astonished at the splendid spectacle that lies before 
 him. Spread out at his feet lies the holy Mazr, with all its 
 minarets and towers. Farther on lies a whole city of cupolas 
 these are the graves of the caliphs ; they rear their heads 
 proudly aloft in the sunlight, congratulating the new ruler on 
 his magnificence ; but also reminding him of the perishable 
 nature of all earthly glory the saying of a certain wise man r 
 " Thou first and mightiest of mortals, be thankful that thou art 
 alive ! " 
 
 " I thank thee, Allah, that I am alive, and I bow down in 
 humility before thee ! " murmurs Cousrouf, reverently. 
 He then again looks out with delight upon the landscape that 
 lies before him. There, in a wide curve, winds the river Nile 
 like a silver ribbon, innumerable decorated boats and barks 
 dancing upon its surface. Here all is life and animation, 
 beyond the Nile reigns a solemn stillness ; for a certain dis-
 
 THE VICEROY OF EGYPT. 281 
 
 tance from the river bank stand stately palm-trees, and then 
 suddenly, sharply defined beside the green fields, begins the 
 yellow sand. That is the desert that is the mysterious 
 theatre of so many adventures throughout the ages, the 
 receptacle of so much hidden wealth, the great burying-ground 
 of the unknown dead. There, on the horizon, where the yel- 
 low sand and the blue sky meet, stand the pyramids of 
 Gheezeh, and farther on, in the purple distance, the pyramids 
 of Sakkara. 
 
 " A world lies at my feet, and I am the ruler of this world. 
 I have attained my aim," says he to himself. '' All is ful- 
 filled ; but one thing is left to wish for. O Allah, grant me 
 still many years in which to enjoy this magnificence ! " 
 
 Once more he glances around at the beautiful landscape 
 before him, and then, conducted by the slave, returns to his 
 private apartments. He lies on his cushions, listening to the 
 shouts of the delighted multitude without. 
 
 Suddenly the curtain that covers the doorway is noiselessly 
 withdrawn, and a slave announces that a messenger from the 
 capitan pacha, accompanied by a him bashi, stands in the 
 antechamber, awaiting his pleasure. 
 
 " What is the messenger's name ? " asks Cousrouf, wearily. 
 
 " Hassan Aga, master, him bashi of the capitan pacha." 
 
 "And his favorite," murmurs Cousrouf to himself. "Let 
 
 Hassan Aga enter." 
 
 At the slave's call the messenger enters, bows his head to 
 the ground, and hands his master's letter to the viceroy. 
 
 14 Do you know its contents ?" asks Cousrouf, slowly open- 
 ing the letter. 
 
 "Yes, highness. It is a farewell letter from my master, 
 who leaves to-morrow for Stamboul." 
 
 For an instant a smile glides over Cousrouf s countenance ; 
 but then it assumes a sad expression. " The capitan pacha is 
 about to depart to leave me." 
 
 " He wishes to leave to you alone the honor of having li 
 subjugated Egypt at the feet of his master the grand-sultan, 
 in Stamboul. He has done what lay in his power. The jnost 
 dangerous Mamelukes have fallen beneath his blows, 
 narrate to your highness how it was done ? " 
 19
 
 282 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Cousrouf signifies his assent. Hassan hastily relates the 
 bloody story of the assassination of the Mamelukes in the road- 
 stead of Aboukir, Cousrouf listening with the greatest atten- 
 tion. " The capitan pacha has erected a bloody but a great 
 monument to himself,'' says be, when Hassan bas finished his 
 narrative. " Yet it is questionable whether I shall be benefited 
 by it. It would, perhaps, have been wiser to reconcile our- 
 selves with the Mamelukes, than to excite them to new anger. " 
 
 "Highness, reconciliation with the Mamelukes is impos- 
 sible," replies Hassan. " The capitan pacha, who has ever 
 been faithful in your service, wishes to give you a final proof 
 of his friendship. " 
 
 " And in what does this proof consist ? " asks Cousrouf. 
 
 " He sends your highness a hero who has the determina- 
 tion to do all things, and the capacity to do all he determines. 
 He gave evidence of his courage and address at Aboukir. The 
 capitan pacha can leave you no better token of his friendship 
 than this young hero, who is entirely devoted to you. May I 
 present this last best gift of the capitan pacha ; may I present 
 to your highness the young him bashi ? " 
 
 The pacha nods his assent, and Hassan noiselessly -with- 
 draws, returning in a few moments, accompanied by the 
 young him bashi, so warmly recommended to the viceroy. 
 Cousrouf Pacha wearily raises his head and casts a glance of 
 indifference at the tall figure of the him bashi ; but as his glance 
 falls on the young man's countenance, he starts. It seems to 
 him that he has seen those eagle eyes before. He hastily 
 casts his eyes down, and then looks up again at the bim bashi, 
 who holds his head proudly erect, awaiting the viceroy's 
 address. 
 
 " What is your name, bim bashi ? Where do you come 
 from ? " asks Cousrouf, after a long pause. 
 
 The bim bashi advances a step, and, looking steadily in the 
 viceroy's countenance, bows profoundly. " My name is 
 Mohammed Ali, and I come from Ca valla." 
 
 "Ca valla!" repeats Cousrouf, with a start. Now he 
 remembers that he has sometimes seen these eyes before him 
 in sleepless nights. They have impressed themselves deeply 
 into his heart with their fearful glances. The haughty pacha
 
 THE VICEROY OF EGYPT. 283 
 
 had never reproached himself for killing the slave Masa that 
 was his right; he acted according to law when he punished 
 the runaway slave hy death but it was cruel to compel the 
 man who loved her to witness her death. Cousrouf had 
 felt this at the time, and that was why these eyes had pene- 
 trated his heart like daggers'-points. But that was long ago, 
 and these eyes are now very different. They no longer glit' 
 ter with curses; they now sparkle with animation, energy, 
 and courage, only. 
 
 "You come from Ca valla," says he, after a pause, "and 
 your name is Mohammed Ali ? It seems to me that once, 
 when I sojourned for a time at Cavalla, I also knew a Moham- 
 med Ali, a daring young lad, the friend of Osman, with whoso 
 father I resided ; I had appointed Osman him bashi of the 
 soldiers he was to bring over to me, and I also permitted hinv 
 to select young Mohammed Ali as his boulouk bashi. Yet 
 Osman has not come, nor do you appear to be the Mohammed 
 Ali I then knew." 
 
 "Pardon me, highness," said Mohammed Ali, with a slight 
 smile, for he well understood the secret meaning of this ques- 
 tion " pardon me, highness, I am this Mohammed, and yet 
 another. The first was a bold, insolent lad, who dared to defy 
 your authority and refused to bow his head in humility before 
 your highness. He who now stands before you, however, is 
 your devoted servant, who brings you greetings from his 
 friend Osman. He is deeply touched by your graciousness, 
 and, hoping for a continuance of your favor, he undertook 
 to do your bidding. But alas ! the will of man is often frus- 
 trated by bodily weakness. It was thus with my friend Os- 
 man. The first day of the conflict at Aboukir prostrated him 
 so completely that he was compelled to return home to Caval- 
 la, and the capitan graciously granted his request and placed 
 me in his position. Yet I lay my new dignity at your feet ; 
 all that I am I wish to receive at your hands." 
 
 Cousrouf had regarded him fixedly while he spoke, and had 
 listened attentively to his words and voice. He was satisfied 
 with him. " Yes, Mohammed, you are right," said Cousrouf ; 
 " there is nothing of the fierce boy of those days in you now. 
 Your voice is flattering, and your words well chosen and de-
 
 284: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 voted, and Cousrouf will attach you to himself through grati- 
 tude. He will cherish you, and make of you a devoted serv- 
 ant. You say, you lay your dignity of him bashi at my 
 feet?" 
 
 " Yes, highness, I lay all at your feet ; and all that I am I 
 wish to receive at your hands." 
 
 " Well, then, if your destiny rests with me, I must pixmiote 
 the him bashi to a higher dignity. From this moment the 
 him bashi is the sarechsme, the general of the Albanian troops. 
 You are their countryman, and you shall be their leader." 
 
 " O highness, how great is your generosity ! " exclaims 
 Mohammed, his countenance beaming with joy. 
 
 Cousrouf had observed him closely, and the young man's 
 delight showed him that he had acquired in Mohammed a 
 true and devoted friend, and he will have great need of such 
 friends in the impending struggles to uphold his power, which 
 the course pursued by his friend the capitan pacha will have 
 made inevitable. The bloody massacre at Aboukir, which the 
 capitan claims as a friendly service rendered him, has, he well 
 knows, made him many passionate and irreconcilable enemies. 
 Yes, he needs true friends, and Mohammed shall be chained 
 to his service through gratitude. 
 
 Mohammed expresses his gratitude and devotion in such 
 eloquent terms that Cousrouf 's heart is touched, and he feels 
 impelled to address some kindly words to the new sarechsme. 
 He dismisses Hassan Aga with friendly greetings to the capi- 
 tan pacha, and motioned to the sarechsme to remain. Cous- 
 rouf walks thoughtfully to and fro in the room for a time, his 
 gold-embroidered caftan trailing on the carpet behind him, 
 and the crescent on his turban glittering in the sunlight. Mo- 
 hammed raises his eyes for an instant, and sees the figure 
 sweep past him like a brilliant meteor. Quickly he casts down 
 his eyes again, that his soul's inmost thoughts may not be be- 
 trayed, and least of all to the viceroy. No one but Allah 
 hears the oath that now resounds in his soul, as he stands in 
 an humble attitude at the door, waiting to be addressed. " I 
 have sworn vengeance, and I will keep my oath. Vengeance 
 for Masa ; vengeance for the torments I have endured. My 
 head is now bowed in humility before you, yet I swear to re-
 
 THE VICEROY OF EGYPT. 
 
 pay you for the evil you have done me ; not by killing you, 
 but by torturing your soul. We are alone, without witnesses \ 
 it were an easy thing to slay you. The door stands open, and 
 I could flee before the deed could be known. But death is no 
 revenge for years of torture. You shall live, and live in agony 
 and pain. Thus will Mohammed Ali be avenged ! " 
 
 In his heart he swears this oath. His lips do not quiver ; 
 no feature of his countenance betrays what is passing within. 
 Cousrouf stands still before him, and lays his hand on Mo- 
 hammed's shoulder. " Look at me, Mohammed ! " 
 
 The latter looks up, and the eyes of both are firmly fixed 
 on each other. The young general divines Cousrouf's 
 thoughts, but the pacha does not divine Mohammed's. 
 
 " You said that the Mohammed of the days when I resided 
 in Ca valla is dead. Is it true ? " 
 
 " Yes, highness, it is true. He is dead, or he has at least 
 transformed himself into a better man. Yet, highness, he 
 suffered much before he could accomplish this transforma- 
 tion." 
 
 '' That I can readily believe," says Cousrouf, in low tones. 
 " I have often regretted having caused you this misery. Yet 
 you must have become satisfied yourself, young man, that I 
 could not do otherwise. I acted in accordance with the law." 
 
 " You only acted in accordance with the law,'' replies Mo- 
 hammed, in a low voice. " The law ordains that the faithless 
 runaway be punished, and also he with whom she has fled. 
 The captured slave was killed, and it seems to me it was an 
 act of clemency to permit him who loved her to witness her 
 execution without being able to help her. Yes, an act of great 
 clemency. You might have punished me more severely." 
 
 Again Cousrouf gazes into his countenance searchingly. 
 The tone of his voice is mild and submissive, yet his words 
 bear stings. 
 
 " I should think, Mohammed, that death itself were prefer- 
 able to the punishment of being compelled to witness the ex- 
 ecution of the beloved without being able to help her. In the 
 years that have since passed, I have often thought that it was 
 cruel, and wished I had not dealt so harshly with you. Does 
 it suffice that I confess this to you ? Will you say this to
 
 286 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 the other the dead and transformed and will it console 
 him ? " 
 
 " master, what magnanimity ! " exclaims Mohammed. 
 *' You are generous enough to confess that you feel regret at 
 having done justice to that slave ? " 
 
 "I was passionate, and you had excited my wrath," replies 
 the pacha, gently inclining his head. 
 
 "Not I, highness," says Mohammed, smiling. "Not I, the 
 sarechsme, but that wild, insolent boy, Mohammed, of whom 
 no trace now remains. He is buried in the sea, at the place 
 where the waves closed over Masa. Yet, if that Mohammed 
 still lived and heard what you say, he would bow down in the 
 dust before the great man who condescends to confess that he 
 regrets what he has done. However, should I see that Mo- 
 hammed, I will tell him of this never-to-be forgotten magna- 
 nimity." 
 
 " I will give you a souvenir of this hour," says Cousrouf, 
 gently. " I am so happy myself to-day that I desire to see the 
 happy only about me. You are now a general. I should like 
 to see you worthily fitted out for your new dignity. Have you 
 a steed suitable to your rank ? " 
 
 " I am poor, highness, and have nothing but the salary 
 which your highness will bestow on me." 
 
 '* Above all, you must have a good horse. I have received 
 from the grand-sultan, in Stamboul, in honor of my entrance 
 into Cairo, four beautiful horses. I make you a present of one 
 of them. Go down to the stables ; they shall be shown you. 
 and you shall select the one that pleases you best. Be still ! no 
 word of thanks ! Show your gratitude by serving me faith- 
 fully. Are you already provided with a dwelling ? " 
 
 " No, highness. The bim bashi had but just arrived with 
 Hassan Aga from Alexandria, and has as yet had no time to 
 look after a dwelling." 
 
 " A house shall be prepared for you," said the pacha ; " I 
 will see to this myself. Remain in my palace to-day ; to-mor- 
 row you shall have a house of your own. Now go and select 
 the best of the horses. I hope you are a connoisseur, and will 
 easily pick out the best one ; it shall be delivered to you com- 
 pletely equipped." He calls a slave who stood waiting with-
 
 SITTA NEFYSSEH. 287 
 
 out, and commands him to conduct the sarechsme to the court- 
 yard, and order the horses to be led before him. 
 
 Mohammed, his head bowed down in profound reverence, 
 withdraws to the door, walking backward. Cousrouf follows 
 him with his eyes until the door has closed behind him, and 
 then a smile glides over his countenance. 
 
 " This man is won over to my interests. He is right ; he 
 is transformed, body and soul, and he is mine. And truly 
 such a friend is a valuable possession/' 
 
 Mohammed descends with the slave to the court-yard. 
 The latter hastily summons the equerry, and delivers his mas- 
 ter's message. The beautiful horses, with their splendid trap- 
 pings, are now led before Mohammed. The new sarechsme se- 
 lects the handsomest and best ; he wishes to show the viceroy 
 that he can judge of the beauty and fire of a horse. Moham- 
 med then retires to the rooms set apart for him in a wing of 
 the palace. When left alone, his grave countenance relaxes, 
 and a triumphant smile plays about his lips. 
 
 " The work is begun," murmurs he to himself. " The vice- 
 roy has himself called his enemy to his side. He thinks, with 
 his favor and flattery, to make me forget what I have endured. 
 He shall learn that Mohammed Ali never forgives. You are 
 lost, Cousrouf, for you slumber, while I watch and will take 
 advantage of your slumber. Beware, Cousrouf, beware ! I 
 will not be your murderer, you shall live, but I will humble 
 you ; you shall sink down in the dust before me ! Let that 
 be the revenge for Masa, my white dove, and for myself ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SITTA NEFYSSEH. 
 
 SHE was reposing in her garden-kiosk. She had ordered 
 her female slaves to place themselves in the rear of some rose- 
 bushes in the background, and make sweet harmony with 
 their cymbals and clarinets. She wished to be left alone with 
 her thoughts. She lay reclining at full length on her silver-
 
 288 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 embroidered silken cushions. The white silk dress, in worked 
 with crimson roses, enfolded her closely, displaying the con- 
 tour of her graceful form. The sunlight pierced the airy lat- 
 tice-work of the kiosk, around which clustered roses and 
 orange-blossoms, and shed a soft light over her charming 
 countenance. The veil, which Sitta Nefysseh only wears 
 when she goes into the streets or meets strangers in her house, 
 is laid aside. 
 
 Beautiful is Sitta Nefysseh, more beautiful than a young 
 ; girl, than the unblown rose, radiant with loveliness and dig- 
 nity. " Queen of the Roses," thus is she called by all Cairo. 
 
 Who does not know her who has not heard of her, of the 
 Rose of Cairo, of the wife of the great Mourad Bey, the Mame- 
 luke chieftain ? Even the Franks bowed humbly before her 
 grace and dignity, and the scha-er sings and relates, on the 
 street-corners, of the French general, Kleber, who loved 
 Mourad's beautiful wife, and who often, in the stillness of the 
 evening, haunted the vicinity of his palace, awaiting, perhaps, 
 an opportunity to invade the harem in which the Rose of 
 Cairo dwelt. And in his songs he also intimates that the dag- 
 ger-stroke which lay the general low near the palace, was 
 dealt at the instigation of the jealous bey. 
 
 Who does not know Sitta Nefysseh, the benefactress of 
 the poor, the proud heroine who fought at her husband's side, 
 who shared with Mourad the dangers of war, a heroine in bat' 
 tie, a gentle, modest woman in the harem ? 
 
 All is still about her. The waters of the fountains near the 
 kiosk murmur gently as they fall in the basins beneath, as if 
 to lull the beautiful woman to rest with their music, and now 
 the soft music from behind the rose-bushes is also wafted over 
 to the kiosk. 
 
 The slaves accompany the instruments with their voices. 
 
 What are they singing ? What song is this that exults and 
 is yet filled with sadness ? whose strains are so passionate, so 
 lamenting, so longing ? 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh well knows what they are ; although the 
 words are inaudible, yet she knows them, knows the sad love- 
 song "of her whom he loved, of him who slew her." The 
 song is a familiar one. But why does it excite such emotion
 
 SITTA NEFYSSEH. 289 
 
 in her heart, why do her large black eyes fill with tears ? She 
 would permit no one to see these tears, she would quickly 
 brush them from her sparkling eyes with her hand, white as 
 the lily, if the eye of any human being could now behold her. 
 
 But no one sees her Sitta Nefysseh is alone. 
 
 At least she thinks so. The pair of black eyes that peer 
 out from behind the shrubbery and flowers near the garden- 
 wall, she does not see, and yet these eyes are fixed with such 
 anguish and longing, with such passionate ardor, on the lovely 
 woman who lies there dreamily on her cushions. 
 
 Of what is she dreaming ? The slaves are singing of love 
 and bliss ; the waters murmuring of love and bliss, and, in the 
 heart of the beautiful Sitta Nefysseh, there are also singing, 
 sighing, and murmuring of love and bliss ! 
 
 People say that Sitta Nefysseh is proud and has a cold 
 heart. Love has never dared to approach her since the death 
 of her husband, Mourad Bey. She is kindly in her manner 
 toward all, yet no one dares suppose she views him with more 
 favor than others. She keeps all men at a distance ; they all 
 love her and bow down in reverence and adoration before her, 
 but Sitta Nefysseh remains proud and cold ; she loves no 
 one ! 
 
 This the people say, and, if she heard it, she would nod her 
 beautiful head, would smile and say : " They are right, I love 
 no one. Mourad Bey, my husband and my hero, him I loved ! 
 Since he is dead, I am alone and love no one ! " 
 
 The black eyes are still peering out through the shrubbery 
 and flowers, fixed on her with passionate ardor. She does not 
 see them ; but now, as she raises her head as if to rise from 
 her cushions, these eyes quickly disappear, and a tall, manly 
 figure, stooping forward behind the trees and shrubbery, glides 
 noiselessly along to the gate that leads into the inner court- 
 yard. But, before he steps out, young Youssouf stands still, 
 draws a long breath, and seems to summon all his resolution 
 to his aid to resist the charm that carries him away. 
 
 " If she knew that I watched her, she would drive me from 
 her, and then Youssouf would die. Alas ! she may not dream 
 that I love her ; she is proud and unapproachable, and what 
 am I to her ? The poor kachef of her deceased husband ! She
 
 290 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 tolerates me as she tolerates the dog that is accustomed to lie 
 on the threshold of her door. Alas, I should die if she knew 
 of Youssouf's love for her ! " 
 
 Kachef Youssouf is handsome, and, were it not the noble 
 Sitta Nefysseh, exception would be taken to a woman's hav- 
 ing so handsome a kachef in her service. But Sitta Nefysseh 
 is unapproachable, virtue attends her in all her ways, modesty 
 and dignity are everywhere her companions. No one dares 
 approach her chaste reputation with even a breath of re- 
 proach. 
 
 Youssouf steps into the inner court-yard ; he lays his hand 
 on his brown beard and strokes its curly locks. 
 
 " Be a man," murmur his lips. " Be resolute. Alas ! I 
 could endure not being the one if no other dared approach 
 her. But here comes one of them already. He can approach 
 her and speak of love. Woe is me ! " 
 
 With profound deference, and forcing his features into a 
 smile, Youssouf approached Osman Bey Bardissi, who at this 
 moment came into the court, mounted on his proud, splendid- 
 ly-equipped steed, and followed by a body of his Mamelukes. 
 
 " Is your mistress at home ? " asked Bardissi, springing 
 lightly to the ground, and throwing the purple-silk reins to 
 the Mameluke who hurried forward. 
 
 " Yes, Sitta Nefysseh is in the park. She is resting in the 
 kiosk, and I will announce to the female slaves that Osman 
 Bey Bardissi wishes to see their mistress. " 
 
 " Do so, Kachef Youssouf," said Bardissi. " But first listen 
 to me. How would you like to be taken into my service, 
 kachef ? you are too good for this life of inactivity ? If you 
 desire it, I will ask Sitta Nefysseh to give you your freedom ? " 
 
 " Give me my freedom ? I am free ! " said Youssouf, re- 
 garding Bardissi with proud composure. " I was a Mameluke 
 with Mourad, as you know. My noble master had purchased 
 me ; he loved me, and often told me I should remain with 
 him while I lived. He made me kachef, first kachef of his 
 house. I swore eternal fidelity to him and to his house, and 
 I will keep my oath." 
 
 " I do not doubt it," replied Bardissi, in kindly tones ; " I 
 only mean, Youssouf, that you are too young not to wish to
 
 SITTA NEFYbSEH. 291 
 
 wield the sword and join us in the conflict that is soon to be 
 renewed. Poor Youssouf, you will then be shut out from our 
 ranks, for Sitta Nefysseh no longer sends her Mamelukes with 
 us to battle; she now uses them for her service only, and I am 
 certain she would be well pleased if her kachef Youssouf, as 
 it becomes him, draws his sword to win laurels in the field. 
 You can make something great of yourself. Look at me, 
 Youssouf : I was what you are ; like you a Mameluke, also 
 like you a kachef, and could let my beard grow, and now I 
 am a Mameluke bey, and three thousand servants follow me 
 to battle. You might accomplish as much, Youssouf." 
 
 "1 am satisfied with what I am, and ask for nothing more," 
 replied the kachef. " I swore to Mourad Bey to serve him and 
 his house my life long, and I will keep my oath : I therefore 
 entreat you to say nothing to Sitta Nefysseh. She might be 
 displeased." 
 
 " I will not," replied Bardissi ; " remain true to your word. 
 And now go and inquire whether your mistress can see me." 
 
 Youssouf hastened to where the slaves were still singing 
 their melancholy song, and sent one of them down into the 
 park to inform her that the Mameluke bey, Osman Bardissi, 
 had come, and desired to see her. 
 
 The slave advanced timidly to the entrance of the kiosk, 
 and announced the visitor to Sitta Nefysseh, who, awakening 
 from a dream she had dreamed with open eyes, gently inclined 
 her head. 
 
 " He is welcome. Conduct him to me. Come nearer, ye 
 slaves, and seat yourselves behind that clump of rose-bushes. 
 You can sing and play while I am receiving my visitor, for 
 Osman Bey loves music. Do me honor, my slaves, and sing 
 the love-songs of Djumeil and his Lubna." 
 
 Bardissi cannot see these musicians as he advances toward 
 the kiosk, conducted by the slave ; he only hears and rejoices 
 in their song. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh has risen from her cushions, but she has not 
 covered her face with the veil which, fastened to her hair with 
 golden clasps, falls back over her shoulders. The widow, and 
 above all the widow of the bey, is allowed to remain unveiled 
 in the presence of a friend. The great prophet never com-
 
 292 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 manded that the wives of Moslems should appear veiled in 
 their own houses ; the jealousy of their husbands had gradu- 
 ally imposed this burden upon them. Conscious of her own 
 worth and dignity, Sitta Nefysseh feels herself free to disre- 
 gard such requirement. She turns her lovely countenance 
 with a gentle smile toward the advancing bey, and Bardissi 
 feels the glance of her large eyes, though he does not see them. 
 He feels it, and moves not, a slight tremor possessing itself of 
 his entire being. 
 
 What ! Bardissi trembles ! the hero, who amid the din of 
 battle joyously confronts the death-dealing cannon, who never 
 trembles, though face to face with a whole forest of spears 
 Bardissi trembles and turns pale ! 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh sees it, and her smile brightens. ''Why do 
 you hesitate to approach, Osman ? and what have you to say 
 to me, friend of my husband, Mourad Bey ? " 
 
 She wishes to remind him that he had been Mourad's friend. 
 He well understands her meaning, and, stepping quickly for- 
 ward, falls on his knee before her, and reverently kisses the 
 hem of her dress. 
 
 " I paused, O Sitta, Eose of Cairo I paused because I heard 
 the song of the slaves they are singing my favorite song." 
 
 " The song is known to you ? " said Sitta Nefysseh. 
 
 "It is. Do you know, Sitta, when I first heard this 
 song ? " 
 
 "I do not," replied she, shaking her head gently. 
 
 "May I tell you?'' 
 
 " Do so ; seat yourself on the marble stool standing at the 
 entrance of the kiosk, and tell me." 
 
 She falls back upon her cushion with the easy grace of a 
 swan. But Bardissi does not take the seat so graciously as- 
 signed him. He steps forward and remains standing in front 
 of Sitta Nefysseh, gazing down upon her with reverence and 
 delight, as though his glances were a consecrated gold-in- 
 worked veil in which he wishes to envelop her lovely form, 
 and draw her to his heart. 
 
 " Well, Osman Bey, when did you first hear this song ? " 
 
 He remains silent for a moment ; the bees are humming 
 in the air, the fountains flashing, and from the distance the
 
 SITTA NEFYSSEH. 293 
 
 words of the song the slaves are singing are wafted over by 
 the gentle hreeze : 
 
 " Thee alone on earth have I loved. My longing heart is 
 drawn to thee. And, though this earth were heaven, and it 
 contained my Lubna not, I'd wander rather through the gates 
 of hell if I but knew my Lubna there ! " 
 
 " If I but knew my Lubna there ! " repeated Osman Bey, 
 in low, tremulous tones. "You wish to know when I first 
 heard this song ? I will tell you. It was on the evening 
 of a bloody day of battle ; I had ridden at the side of our 
 great chieftain, Mourad Bey. He called me his friend, his " 
 
 "His favorite," said Sitta Nefysseh, interrupting him. 
 " He said he loved you like a brother, and would confide to 
 you without fear or hesitation all he loved best his wife, his 
 child knowing that they would be guarded and held sacred 
 as though they were in the holiest niche of the mosque. Yes, 
 my noble husband loved you. And now, speak on. You had 
 .gone out to battle." 
 
 "Yes, it was a bloody day. The angel of death hovered 
 over us, and the swords of the enemy swept heavily upon our 
 ranks. A sabre-stroke dealt by Bashi Seref fell upon the 
 sword-arm of my noble friend, striking him down and dis- 
 abling him. The Turk was preparing to deal a second blow, 
 when I struck him to the earth with my ataghan. I then 
 bore my friend from the conflict to his tent, and there you 
 were, Sitta Nefysseh. You received the hero from my arms, 
 and for the first time I saw your unveiled countenance. I 
 then returned to the battle, and took Mourad's place at the 
 head of his Mamelukes. Whether it was anger over the 
 wounding of my friend, or the bliss caused by the lovely 
 image I had beheld, I know not, but my arm was strong and 
 mighty, and love and heroism exulted in my heart. I called 
 out to the Mamelukes, ' We must and will die or conquer ! ' 
 But, being still too young to die, and loving life too well, we 
 conquered. The enemy was driven from the field, and ours 
 was the victory. We encamped on the field after the bloody 
 conflict ; and then, having won the victory. I felt privileged, 
 when evening came, to repair to Mourad's tent to report our 
 success.
 
 294 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " No one was there to announce me ; I drew back the cur- 
 tain and entered the first room. No one was there, and the 
 curtain of the inner apartment of the tent was half drawn 
 aside. I went no farther, knowing that the wounded Mourad 
 lay there on his cushions, and that Sitta Nefysseh was with 
 him. I knew this because I heard her singing ; she sang her 
 beloved to sleep as a mother lulls her babe to rest, or as the 
 houris sing in paradise, when they in wondrous melody an- 
 nounce the joys of heaven to dying mortals. 
 
 " I remained standing in the tent and listened to your song, 
 Sitta Nefysseh. You sang to your husband of love and happi- 
 nesssang in sweet words what Djumeil says to his Lubna : 
 1 Nature breathes love. The bird in the air sings of love ; the 
 spring which bubbles at your feet murmurs of love ; the rose 
 that blossoms in the garden sheds love's fragrance all is love 
 and bliss. Woe to them who know nothing more of love, 
 woe to them who bear a cold heart in their bosom.' This you 
 sang, Sitta Nefysseh, and I stood listening, entranced. What 
 I then felt was so all-absorbing, so divinely beautiful, that I 
 was unwilling to have the harmony of that sweet moment 
 broken in upon by the voice of man. I silently withdrew ; 
 your song informed me that Mourad slept and was in heavenly 
 bliss. I noiselessly left the tent, and stepped out into the 
 night. The moon shed its soft light around, enveloping the 
 white tents scattered over the plain and the terrors of the day 
 in a heavenly, silver veil. 
 
 " I did not return to my tent that night, however. Where 
 was I ? If you should ask, Sitta Nefysseh, I could not tell 
 you. But this much I can tell you, I was in paradise ! 1 
 thought of this when I just now heard your slaves sing the 
 song I then heard for the first time, and that has resounded in 
 my heart ever since. I covered it with thick veils, and laid 
 my hand on it to silence it : and I found it possible to do so 
 while my noble friend Mourad still lived. I forced my heart 
 to bury in its depths its wishes and longings. I have been silent, 
 Sitta Nefysseh, not only while Mourad lived, but I have also 
 honored the period allotted to a widow's mourning. But 
 this is now passed ; pain has vanished from your heart, I 
 trust. Your heavenly countenance is again radiant with
 
 SITTA NEFYSSEH. 295 
 
 youthful loveliness, and no longer shows the traces of sor- 
 row." 
 
 " It is true, Osman Bey," said Nefysseh, with a low sigh ; 
 "time heals all wounds, and sorrow no longer darkens my 
 soul ; yet know that Mourad Bey still lives in my heart, and 
 it is because he still lives for me that I am able to bear this 
 life and this separation. 1 ' 
 
 "I well know, O Sitta, your fidelity, your noble senti- 
 ments," replied Bardissi ; " it is this knowledge that makes me 
 adore and reverence you ; and were it not strange if I, too, 
 could ever forget the man who loved you so passionately, and 
 whose memory you still love ? But such love, Sitta, excites 
 no jealousy, and even he who loves passionately respects such 
 love. Listen to me, Sitta Nefysseh ; hear why I have come 
 to you ; I can endure it no longer ; the seal must at last fall 
 from his lips, and Bardissi must give utterance to what he 
 feels, to that which glows in his heart, and can no longer be 
 repressed. Yes, Sitta Nefysseh, you must at last hear that 
 I am dying for love, and that if you refuse to hear me, I 
 must" 
 
 " Silence ! " exclaimed Nefysseh, interrupting him, with 
 queenly composure, as she rose from her seat" silence. Os- 
 man Bey ! do you not know that my husband Mourad lived 
 here in this garden, in this place ? How could his wife, Sitta 
 Nefysseh, have received you unveiled if her husband had not 
 stood by her side ? Do you not see him, Osman Bey ? Do you 
 not see his eyes fixed on you with an angry expression, and 
 do not his lips ask his friend how he can betray friendship ? 
 What was your promise to Mourad ? To honor and guard his 
 wife while you lived." 
 
 "And I will, Sitta Nefysseh. I do guard and honor her, 
 but I also love her as ardently as ever man loved woman ! " 
 exclaimed Bardissi, in passionate tones. "Does not man 
 honor woman most when he loves her best ? How can I bet- 
 ter prove my adoration and reverence than by laying my life 
 at your feet, and saying, in tones of humble entreaty, ' Sitta 
 Nefysseh, be my wife, follow me to my house, and be mistress 
 of myself and of all that I am ? " 
 
 " Do not say this, Osman Bey, I entreat you, do not speak
 
 296 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 thus to me ! " cried Sitta Nefysseh in a loud voice. " It would 
 give pain to me to have to answer you, and it will be better 
 not to have heard your words. I call you friend, and I wish 
 you to remain my friend all your life long. Yet, hear me ; 
 my heart is open to no other love, and my hands must 
 remain unfettered. Mourad's widow remains true to her- 
 self, and to him who dwells in her heart, and is ever 
 at her side. Let us forget. Osman, what you, carried away 
 by your friendship, have said. You thought Mourad's wife 
 felt herself alone hi the world, and, out of friendship for 
 your deceased friend, you desired to offer her the support 
 of your heroic hand. If ever I should need assistance, and 
 a friend, rest assured, Osman, I shall call on you. But now, 
 step back, one of my slaves is approaching with a mes- 
 sage. Turn your countenance away, Osman, it looks so 
 gloomy and passionate ; I would not have her notice your 
 love." 
 
 He turns aside, and seems to be listening to the distant 
 singing and playing of the slaves ; he, however, hears the 
 slave, who now enters the kiosk, announce that LTElfi Bey de- 
 sires to see her mistress. He hears it, and shudders. L'Elfi 
 Bey, his friend and companion-in-arms ; what brings him 
 here to Mourad's widow ? 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh sends word that the bey is welcome, and the 
 slave departs on her errand. 
 
 " L'Elfi Bey is permitted to come to you ! " 
 
 " And why not ? " asked she proudly. " Was not Osman 
 Bey permitted to visit me, and was not L'Elfi also my hus- 
 band's friend ? " 
 
 " It is true ; forgive my thoughtlessness," replied Osman in 
 low and almost angry tones. " Permit me to take my leave, 
 Sitta Nefysseh. I do not wish to disturb your interview with 
 the great L'Elfi Bey." 
 
 " On the contrary, you will please remain," replied she, 
 quietly, gracefully drawing her fragrant veil over her head, 
 and covering her face. 
 
 Bardissi's heroic countenance became radiant with delight. 
 She had received him unveiled, and now that L'Elfi comes she 
 veils herself. Allah be praised, that is a favorable omen ; a
 
 L'ELFI BEY. 297 
 
 ray of light penetrating the gloom that enveloped his soul ; 
 he has seen her unveiled, and 
 
 "L'Elfi Bey comes," said Sitta Nefysseh, rising to welcome 
 her new visitor. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 L'ELFI BEY. 
 
 HAUGHTILY erect, the bey advanced, followed hy four 
 Mamelukes in rich, gold-embroidered garments, who bore a 
 casket covered with a purple cloth, whose golden fringe hung 
 down to the ground. 
 
 As L'Elfi came near, his countenance assumed a deferential 
 appearance, and, his arms crossed on his breast, he stepped for- 
 ward and bowed profoundly before Sitta Nefysseh. 
 
 " Queen of my heart, sun of my eyes ! Allow me to do 
 homage, and to lay my present at your feet as a token of my 
 devotion ! " 
 
 He beckoned to the Mamelukes to come forward and lay 
 the casket down before her. 
 
 " I rejoice that you have come, L'Elfi," said Nefysseh, quiet- 
 ly. " I rejoice, because it proves that your wounds are now 
 healed, as are those of Osman Bey. Yet, I see no necessity for 
 such outward proofs of your friendship." 
 
 " O Sitta Nefysseh ! " cried L'Elfi. " One brings his offer- 
 ings to the good spirits, and, if I were a heathen, I would say, 
 ' I lay on the altar of my goddess the tokens of my adoration, 
 of my love ! ' " 
 
 " You are, however, no heathen, but a Moslem ; and what 
 becomes a heathen does not become the brave Mameluke L'Elfi 
 Bey ! " 
 
 " What I am elsewhere is forgotten," cried L'Elfi ; " here I 
 am nothing but your slave, nothing but a man who would 
 gladly pluck the stars from heaven to lay them at your feet ! 
 Therefore allow me to do homage to my queen as my heart 
 prompts ! " 
 
 He drew the cloth from the casket, and golden dishes, gob- 
 20
 
 298 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 lets, and vases, glittered in the sunshine ; and these vessels 
 contained jewelry of varied design, set with precious stones 
 that would have delighted the eyes of many. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh regarded all this magnificence with an air 
 of indifference. 
 
 " Accept the offering my adoration lays at your feet ! " en- 
 treated L'Elfi. " You know I was with the British general in 
 England, and, while there, I thought of you, and, before the 
 ship left London, it was for days my sole occupation and en- 
 deavor to select beautiful things for you from among the arti- 
 cles displayed in the magnificent stores. I could not bring 
 them with me, but they were sent after me, and have this day 
 arrived. Pray accept them at the hands of your slave ! " 
 
 u It seems to me that no one is privileged to offer Mourad 
 Bey's widow presents of such value," said she, almost severely. 
 " Yet,'' she continued in milder tones, " I will not humiliate 
 him who was my husband's friend and companion. I will ac- 
 cept your gifts ; they shall be placed in the saloon, and all the 
 world shall see how L'Elfi Bey seeks to honor the widow of 
 his former chieftain and friend. Thus will I accept your gifts, 
 and give you thanks for them ! Come, Osman Bardissi ! " 
 she continued in louder tones, beckoning to the bey, who stood 
 without in the shade of an oleander-tree " come and see the 
 magnificent presents which L'Elfi Bey has brought me from 
 England ! " 
 
 L'Elfi's countenance darkened, and he recoiled a step almost 
 in anger. " What ! Osman Bey is here ? " 
 
 "And why not? He has -covered from the wounds re- 
 ceived at Aboukir. Does it not become him to pay his re- 
 spects to me ? He has this privilege in common with your- 
 self." 
 
 " True, my queen ; pray forgive me for daring to find fault 
 with your pleasure. I greet you, Osman Bey Bardissi. I am 
 glad to see you here ! And now, I pray you, let me also see 
 the gifts which you have brought the Rose of Cairo in token 
 of your reverence and devotion. What becomes you, becomes 
 me also ; and, as Sitta Nefysseh has allowed you to see what I 
 have brought, she will not refuse to permit me to see the offer- 
 ing of your devotion."
 
 L'ELFI BEY. 299 
 
 " You shall see it, L'Elfl Bey," said Osman, in a somewhat 
 derisive tone. He stepped to the lattice-work of the kiosk, 
 and, plucking the most beautiful crimson rose he could see, 
 knelt down before Sitta Nefysseh and laid it at her feet. 
 " This, Sitta, is my gift. I lay at your feet, the most beautiful 
 of your sisters, your image ! " 
 
 She smiled. " 1 thank you, Osman Bey, and gladly accept 
 your offering, for Allah has created it." 
 
 He handed her the rose. She took it, held it to her face, 
 and inhaled its fragrance. She then gracefully fell back on 
 her cushion. 
 
 '* Arise, Bardissi 1 " said she. " I have accepted the gifts of 
 both of you ; and, now that you are both the same in senti- 
 ment, but one thing is wanting. 1 ' 
 
 u And what is this one thing still wanting ? " 
 
 " Grasp each other's hands," said she, smiling. " I know 
 that you have long been at enmity with each other ; discord 
 prevails in the land of my great beys. Let hatred now be set 
 aside. You are both mighty and renowned, but your power 
 will be much greater if you join hands. Let your followers 
 see that you stand united against the common enemy. Oh, 
 how can the fatherland be saved when its defenders are at 
 enmity with each other ! The enemy has grown stronger. 
 You know that new troops have arrived here from Turkey, 
 and a man is at their head, of whom I will announce to you 
 that he is dangerous. Therefore grasp hands, and let me see 
 that you are friends ! " 
 
 " Then let it be so," said Bardissi, after a pause. " See, Sit- 
 ta Nefysseh, how great your power over me. Here, L'Elfi, my 
 hand ! Let us unitedly face the enemy ! " 
 
 L'Elfi slowly and hesitatingly laid his hand in that of Os- 
 man Bey. u I accept your hand, Osman, in token of our re- 
 solve to confront the enemy together. But, before I declare 
 myself your friend, I must first know whether you are my 
 rival or not." 
 
 Osman Bey quickly withdrew his hand. " A rival, L'Elfl ! 
 and with whom do you suppose me to be your rival ? " 
 
 " With you, O Sitta Nefysseh ! " said L'Elfi, falling on his 
 knee before her. <k With you, whom I adore as one adores the
 
 300 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 sun and the stars. For your love, I can tolerate no rival ! 
 And now I beg you to withdraw, Osman Bey ; I have that to 
 say to Sitta Nefysseh which no other should hear." 
 
 Osman regarded him fiercely. " I should like to know it 
 L'Elfi is privileged to advise or command Osman Bey Bardissi 
 here, where it devolves upon Sitta Nefysseh alone to determine 
 who shall go, and who remain." 
 
 " Then decide, O Sitta ! " said L'Elfi. 
 
 "You shall both go ; neither shall remain," replied she, 
 sadly. " I see that you are still enemies. Oh, I tell you, you 
 will reap a bitter harvest from this bitter seed. The struggle, 
 in which you should present to the enemy a united front, al- 
 ready begins, and you are still at enmity. Therefore, I 
 say to you, leave me, and return no more ; while hatred ex- 
 ists between you, you shall never more come into my pres- 
 ence ! ' 
 
 " Forgiveness, forgiveness ! Our hatred shall be forgot- 
 ten ! " exclaimed both, falling upon their knees before her. 
 
 " My only entreaty is this," cried L'Elfi. " Allow me a 
 brief quarter of an hour. Was not Osman Bey honored with 
 an audience alone, and would it not become you to show me 
 the same favor ? " 
 
 " He was the first who came," replied she, quickly, " and, 
 therefore, was I alone with him. Had you accompanied him, 
 you would have heard what he had to say, just as he shall 
 hear what you have to say." 
 
 " Then let it be so ; he shall hear ! " exclaimed L'Elfi, 
 springing to his feet. He first turned haughtily to Osman 
 Bey, and then bowed profoundly before Sitta Nefysseh. "Let 
 the whole world hear what L'Elfi has to say to the widow of 
 his friend. He comes here to lay all he possesses at your feet. 
 He desires to consecrate to you his life and heart's blood, and 
 entreats the loveliest and noblest of women to hear his prayers. 
 L'Elfi is free ! No wife has ever stood at his side ; he has no 
 harem, as many others have. He has never, like others, re- 
 clined on soft cushions gazing at the dancing of the voluptu- 
 ous almehs has loved naught but his sword and ataghan ; 
 but his heart is now inclined in love and humility toward you, 
 the only woman it owns as its mistress ; and I now entreat
 
 L'ELFI BEY. 301 
 
 you, O Sitta Nefysseh, queen of my heart, become also queen 
 of my house and harem." 
 
 " As he entreats, so do I entreat also ! " cried Osman Bey, 
 in angry tones, thrusting L'Elfl aside, and falling on his 
 knee before her. " Be mine, Nefysseh ! True, I have loved 
 others, and have also looked with pleasure at the dancing of 
 the female slaves in the harem, yet I have hitherto adored no 
 woman. Military glory, my adoration heretofore, grows pale 
 when Sitta Nefysseh appears, and all else that I have loved 
 and hoped for is as nothing in her presence. For your sake, 
 I will sacrifice not only life, but renown. Command, and I 
 will be your slave ; at your feet will I lay my sword and dag- 
 ger. With my head bowed down, and my beard shorn, will I 
 follow you into the desert, blessing each day and hour in 
 which I am permitted to look upon my queen. Now, O Sitta 
 Nefysseh, you know what Osman Bey Bardissi feels, and that 
 he can boast of a greater love than L'Elfi ; he even offers to 
 sacrifice renown for you ! Decide whom you will bless, Ne- 
 fysseh ! One thing more I will say to you : if you select the 
 hand of my rival, and command me to love him, I cannot 
 promise to do so ! Yet this I swear, that I will be contented 
 with your choice, and that I will never seek to take or shorten 
 his life. Consider, Nefysseh, that this is the most enormous 
 sacrifice that Osman can make for the woman he loves ; he 
 promises not to kill him upon whom she bestows her hand." 
 
 " And you, L'Elfi," said Nefysseh, in a soft voice, " will you 
 swear the same ? " 
 
 "I will," cried L'Elfi. "I swear that I will do as Osman 
 Bey has said I will still detest my enemy, but I will not kill 
 him whom you love. Now speak, Sitta Nefysseh, and decide 
 between us ! " 
 
 For a moment all were silent. The two beys awaited her 
 decision with wildly-throbbing hearts. She was still silent, 
 her large eyes turned toward heaven with a wondrous expres- 
 sion. 
 
 At this moment the song of the slaves, accompanied by the 
 music of the clarinet and violin, again resounded from the 
 midst of the oleander and rose-bushes. The voice of a slave 
 arose, singing of a slave who loves his mistress, and dies be-
 
 302 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 cause of her indifference. He has borne this bitter sorrow for 
 long days and nights, and dares not tell the lale of his love. 
 He bore it, and was blessed in being permitted to see her, but 
 her heart was cold and knew no love for him. But greater un- 
 happiness was in store for him. One day there came a proud 
 and mighty bey, and succeeded in winning the love of his 
 adored ; and Fate willed it that the poor, tortured slave should 
 see her eyes fixed on the bey in a loving gaze, and he also saw 
 him fall on his knees before his mistress and take her hand 
 and carry it to his lips. Then the poor slave's heart broke, 
 and, falling to the earth, he died, sighing, " I love thee ! " 
 
 All three had listened to the sad air and words of the song. 
 Sitta Nefysseh now turned to the beys. 
 
 " This song has no bearing upon you. You will never see 
 Sitta Nefysseh give her love and hand to another ! You who 
 were my husband's friends I will ever consider my friends ! 
 But hear me : Mourad's widow will never marry again ! As 
 I knelt at the death-bed of my husband, bathing his wound 
 with my tears. I swore that I would ever remain true to him 
 I had loved so ardently my life long, and never become the 
 wife of another. And now I ask, noble beys, can you desire" 
 Mourad's widow to perjure herself ? I know you will say the 
 heart knows no oaths, love cannot be restrained. That may 
 be, but do not speak of it to me. You have come to ask with 
 which of you I will share the remainder of my days ; I ask 
 you, decide yourselves, can I break this solemn oath ? " 
 
 The two beys bow their heads still deeper, and sigh pro- 
 foundly. 
 
 " Decide ! " repeated Sitta Nefysseh. 
 
 They raise their heads and gaze at her sadly. " No, Sitta 
 Nefysseh ! You may not break the oath to your husband, 
 sworn in the name of Allah and the prophet ! No, you can 
 never bestow your hand upon another. Alas, that this is so ! 
 alas, that we must submit ! " 
 
 " No, it is well that it is so ! " said Sitta Nefysseh, with a 
 soft smile. " Mourad's widow has the right to be the friend 
 of both of you ; she may hold out her hands to you and 
 say : ' Be my friends, my brothers, and, as you love me, also 
 love one another.' For the second time I entreat you, grasp
 
 L'ELFI BEY. 303 
 
 each other's hands and be friends. For both let there be one 
 common enemy the enemy who confronts you on the field 
 of battle the Turk ! Grasp hands in love and friendship ! " 
 
 The two beys grasped each other's hands firmly. 
 
 " Let it be as our friend and sister wishes ; she shall see us 
 united. Let there be for us but one common enemy the 
 Turk ! " 
 
 " An enemy who grows stronger each day ! " said Sitta 
 Nefysseh. "We thought to have peace when the Franks 
 should have left, but unfortunately it is not so. The Turks 
 are resolved to subjugate us. I know they will not rest until 
 they have overthrown and destroyed the haughty Mameluke 
 beys ! They are continually bringing new troops into the 
 country, and their leader is a dangerous enemy, believe me ! " 
 
 " For the second time you speak of this l dangerous enemy/ 
 Tell us, Sitta, who is he ? " 
 
 " He it is," said she, in earnest tones, " who brought the 
 letter to the capitan pacha at Aboukir ; he it is who confront- 
 ed you in that bloody struggle, and whose courage, boldness, 
 and determination, captured the stronghold Rosetta. I have 
 read the countenance of the sarechsme, and in his eye I have 
 recognized the lion and the fox combined. Before him, I 
 for the first time in my life experienced fear. Beware of him ; 
 if possible, make a friend of him, for the sarechsme, Moham- 
 med Ali, would prove a mighty ally ! " 
 
 " I know him well," said Osman Bey, smiling. " I met 
 him when a boy, and even then we confronted each other as 
 enemies. A short time since I met him again, and he then 
 protected me from the fury of his soldiers ; and I am grateful. 
 I will endeavor, Sitta, to win him over to our interests, as you 
 suggest. If we succeed, and when this formidable enemy 
 shall have become our ally, the Mameluke beys will have 
 great cause to congratulate themselves, and thank Sitta Nefys- 
 seh again." 
 
 "The only proof of your gratitude that I ask is, that you 
 stand united. Thank me by pronouncing my name when you 
 stand side by side on the battle-field, from which you have 
 driven the enemy ! " 
 
 " We will do so. Your name will I pronounce when I go
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 out to battle ! And your name will my lips utter, O Sitta 
 Nefysseh, when I sink down upon the bloody field ! " Thus 
 spoke both, and then bowed profoundly before Mourad's 
 widow. 
 
 " And now you may go," said she, gently. " Walk arm-in- 
 arm through the Muskj Street, that all the world may see that 
 the two greatest Mameluke beys are friends. If these are 
 united, then will the struggle soon terminate. Now go and 
 show the people that you are friends." 
 
 " And if they express surprise at our friendship," cried Os- 
 man Bey, his eyes sparkling, " we will say Mourad's widow wills 
 it so, and we humbly and cheerfully obey." 
 
 " Yes, we will say this," cried 1'Elfi, joyously. u Mourad's 
 widow commanded us to be united, and therefore are we 
 united. And now let us go, Osman Bey ; it is, however, 
 not necessary that we walk arm-in-arm here ; only when 
 we have passed the threshold of this house shall Osmau 
 give me his arm, that the world may see your influence 
 over us." 
 
 Osman Bey walked rapidly down the avenue. L'Elfi fol- 
 lowed him slowly and hesitatingly, looking back twice at Sitta 
 Nefysseh. The latter waved her hand deprecatingly, and he 
 then rapidly followed Osman. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh sighed profoundly as the two disappeared 
 through the gateway, falling back upon her cushions as if 
 overwhelmed with grief. She heard nothing of the music, 
 that still resounded from the rose-bushes ; she heard only the 
 secret and sacred voices which lamented in her soul, and she 
 shuddered at what they said. 
 
 " No, no, it may not be," said she to herself. " I saved my- 
 self from their importunity by the falsehood of the oath. I 
 never swore to my husband that Mourad's wife would become 
 the wife of no other. It was not because an oath bound her 
 that she rejected them ; but because her heart so willed it. 
 Not without love is Mourad's widow ; but whom she loves no 
 one must know, no one must even suspect." 
 
 She arose and threw back her veil to wipe away the tears 
 that burned her eyes. Suddenly she trembled, a deep blush 
 overspreading her countenance. She saw the young kachef
 
 L'ELFI BEY. 305 
 
 Youssouf coming up the walk. She saw his proud, erect figure, 
 his countenance full of youthful freshness and nobility. She 
 drew her veil more closely ahout her ; but the veil cannot 
 hide the brightness of her eyes. They fairly sparkled as he 
 advanced. He approached slowly. Sh.e seemed not to see 
 him, leaned back on her cushions, raised the crimson rose to 
 her face, and inhaled its fragrance. Kachef Youssouf, his 
 arms folded on his breast, stood at the entrance of the 
 kiosk. 
 
 " Sitta Nefysseh, mistress, you command to have your car- 
 riage ready, as you wished to drive out at this hour. It is 
 ready, and I humbly ask if it is your pleasure to go now, and 
 if I may have the honor of accompanying your suite, and rid- 
 ing at the side of your carriage ? '' 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh, who was still inhaling the fragrance of the 
 rose, slowly let fall her hand to her side, and the flower fell 
 from her fingers to the ground. 
 
 "You are an attentive, punctual servant," said she. "I 
 thank you ; I will drive out at once with two of my women ; 
 you may ride beside my carriage." 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh arose and left the kiosk. She passed close 
 by him, and her white veil lightly touched Youssoufs 
 shoulder. He stood as if touched by a magic wand and 
 fixed to the spot. He could not follow his mistress, who 
 walked proudly toward the place where the women awaited 
 her. He followed her with his eyes, however, and saw how 
 her long flowing garment adjusted itself to her lovely figure, 
 and how her white veil fluttered about her noble head, 
 enveloping it as with a delicate white cloud. 
 
 " Would that I were the wind that kisses your cheek ! " 
 murmured he, lost in contemplation of his idol. "Would 
 I were the sand your foot blesses with its touch ! To die near 
 you, beholding you in death, were heavenly bliss." 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh had disappeared behind the clump of bushes. 
 Kachef Youssouf still stood before the kiosk. He listened. 
 The music had ceased. He knew that his mistress was return- 
 ing with her women to the house. He hastily glanced around 
 the garden, fastening his large, black eyes, on every bush, as 
 if expecting to find an enemy concealed there. No one is to
 
 306 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 be seen. Only Heaven and the bees in the air see Youssouf 
 as he rushes into the kiosk, picks up the rose, presses it pas- 
 sionately to his lips, and then conceals it in his bosom. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 FROM the day of their first meeting-, when Cousrouf Pacha 
 appointed Mohammed Ali sarechsme, the new general had 
 proved his bravery and his shrewdness in many a skirmish 
 and battle with the Mamelukes. He had already captured 
 from them two strongholds, and had returned victorious 
 from every battle with them. Cousrouf praised his fortune at 
 having such a general at his side. Mohammed Ali showed 
 himself so zealous and devoted in his service that the viceroy 
 listened to his advice only, and called him his favorite and 
 confidant. 
 
 ''Truly, I am a happy man," said Cousrouf to himself. 
 *' I am the ruler of a great kingdom. I have friends at my 
 side in whom I can confide, and who will assist me in all my 
 plans, executing all I determine. Who knows but that a great 
 future still awaits me, and that the crown which now hangs 
 suspended over my head may not one day adorn it in reality ? 
 Mohammed shall aid me. He is the bravest of the brave, and 
 the wisest of the wise." 
 
 He walked to and fro in his room as he said this to himself, 
 his countenance radiant with smiles. 
 
 "I will soon have my wives brought to me, and my 
 daughters also. Who knows, perhaps it were well to chain 
 the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, to my side with still closer 
 bonds ? Who knows ? Sometimes a strange presentiment 
 comes over me when I look at him. Mohammed's eyes some- 
 times glitter so strangely and angrily, but he is conscious of 
 it at once, and then becomes more gentle and devoted than 
 ever. There are times when I distrust him. It were perhaps 
 well to fasten him to my side so firmly that he cannot free him-
 
 THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 307 
 
 self. Yes, I had best give him one of my daughters in marriage. 
 He must be submissive and devoted to his father-in-law at all 
 times," said he, in low tones. ''Sometimes I think his smooth 
 countenance conceals a gloomy soul, and that Mohammed Ali 
 has not yet forgotten the evil done the young lad in Ca valla. 
 But these are mere fancies. He has proved on every occasion 
 that he no longer thinks of it. I will have him called and 
 study his countenance while speaking with him." 
 
 He sent one of his slaves to request the sarechsme to come 
 to him. After a few minutes Mohammed entered. He bowed 
 profoundly before Cousrouf, and seemed delighted when in- 
 vited to seat himself beside the pacha on the divan, and smoke 
 the chibouque with him. 
 
 "Tell me, Mohammed, how old are you?" asked Cous- 
 rouf, after a pause, blowing clouds of smoke from his lips, 
 and seeming to regard the general with kindly composure. 
 " How old are you ? *' 
 
 " I hardly know, highness," replied Mohammed, smiling. 
 *' But let me count. I believe I was fifteen when, at Cavalla, 
 I first had the happiness of meeting you, my distinguished 
 master." 
 
 " Let us proceed with the calculation," said Cousrouf. " I 
 remained three years in Cavalla. By Allah, they seemed to me 
 to be three centuries! Yes, I remained there three years, and 
 you were therefore eighteen when I left Cavalla ? " 
 
 " Yes, eighteen years old ; and a wild, reckless lad I was, 
 too ! Even now I beg your forgiveness for my conduct at 
 that time," said Mohammed, humbly. 
 
 The viceroy bowed a gracious consent. 
 
 " Since then twelve years have passed, and you are there- 
 fore now thirty." 
 
 u You see, I am an old man ! And when I look back at 
 the past it seems to me I have lived an eternity. Yes, high- 
 ness, I am an old man, and can hardly say that any wishes or 
 aspirations now find a place in my bosom." 
 
 " Are you alone in the world ? " asked Cousrouf. " Have 
 you no family ? " 
 
 A strange fire gleamed for an instant in Mohammed's eyes, 
 and he compressed his lips firmly. How could he who had in-
 
 308 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 flicted such intolerable anguish upon him, how could he 
 question him as to his heart's history ? Woe to him for so 
 doing ! for this, too. shall retribution be visited upon him ! 
 
 " Yes, highness, I have a family. I have a wife and three 
 sons at home in Ca valla." 
 
 " One wife only ? " said the pacha. " Are you contented 
 with one wife ? " 
 
 " One is often too many," replied Mohammed. " But this 
 does not apply to my wife. She is the niece of the tschor- 
 badji, and devoted to me. I have no cause to complain of 
 her." 
 
 " Is that all ? " asked the pacha, with an air of indifference. 
 " You have nothing further to say of her ? Then you do not 
 love her, I suppose ? '' 
 
 " Highness, I believe love was torn from my heart in my 
 youth." 
 
 "Everyone says that until he loves," replied Cousrouf, 
 composedly blowing clouds of smoke from his mouth. ' Yet, 
 in my opinion, one is never too old to love ; the heart never 
 grows old. Let me know it if you feel that another love can 
 blossom in your heart, and that you wish, in addition to the 
 wife you have long possessed and I know that possession gives 
 satiety another, a young and beautiful wife. Perhaps I can 
 find such a one for you. And I will do so, Mohammed, 
 if you return victorious from the new campaign." 
 
 " A new campaign ? and against whom ? " was Moham- 
 med's only response. 
 
 " Against whom ? Against the insolent Mameluke beys, of 
 course. The time has come to dispose of them finally," said 
 Cousrouf. "Listen, general. The grand-sultan, weary of 
 these incessant struggles with the rebellious Mameluke beys, 
 is resolved to bring them to a conclusion, and restore peace to 
 the province of Egypt. You, however, have now been here 
 long enough to know that peace in Egypt means death and 
 destruction to the Mameluke beys." 
 
 " Yes, highness, peace in Egypt means death to the Mame- 
 luke beys !" replied Mohammed Ali. "Truly, while one of 
 them survives, so long will his proud, ambitious heart prompt 
 him to endeavor to reconquer the rule which he believes is
 
 THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 509 
 
 predestined for the Mameluke beys by Allah and the 
 prophet." 
 
 " They shall learn that Allah has doomed them to destruc- 
 tion ! " cried Cousrouf, passionately. " All is arranged. To the 
 Franks we are indebted for one thing, and that is for having 
 fought these rebellious beys. Since the French expedition the 
 number of the Mamelukes is diminished by at least one-half. 
 In order to prevent them from recruiting their decimated ranks, 
 the grand-sultan has issued a firman which prohibits further 
 importation into Egypt of Circassian and Georgian slaves/' 
 
 " And yet, as I have heard, they resort to other sources to 
 refill their depleted ranks," said Mohammed, respectfully. " I 
 am told that they recruit their forces with the inhabitants of 
 the desert, with the children of Albania, and the tribe of Ach- 
 med Ali." 
 
 "They do, it is true. But the Arabs and Bedouins are 
 poor substitutes for the Georgian and Circassian slaves. You 
 cannot make lions of wild-cats, nor tigers of jackals. More- 
 over, discord has fallen out among the Mameluke beys them- 
 selves, since Mourad Bey fell. He was a great man and a 
 hero ! But since his death they have lacked a chieftain who 
 could unite them ; Tamboudji Bey was such a one for a brief 
 season, but, as you know, he fell at Aboukir. Three others 
 are now quarrelling over the succession. There is Osman Bey 
 Bardissi ; Ibrahim Bey, the old Mameluke chieftain ; and 
 finally, L'Elfi Bey, a prot&ge of the English, as Bardissi is of 
 the French. These three are now at daggers'-ends as to who 
 shall be the leader. We must, it seems to me, draw advan- 
 tage from this quarrel. I know Bardissi and Ibrahim have 
 again applied to France, and have sent ambassadors to the 
 French general, Bonaparte, to solicit their aid against their 
 own masters against us, the Turks. L'Elfi Bey, however, has 
 sought the intervention of England, and begged for assistance 
 against us in that quarter. They well know that they are too 
 weak to resist us alone. And therefore, it seems to me, we 
 should avail ourselves of this favorable moment when they 
 are awaiting foreign aid. They must be overwhelmed, never 
 to rise again." 
 
 " How wise your words, highness ! Overwhelmed they
 
 310 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 must be for all time, in order that you alone may rule, and 
 that the sultan at Stamboul may look with admiration upon 
 him who has restored to the old rulers of Egypt the power of 
 former days. This great work is reserved for you, Cousrouf 
 Pacha, and your most obedient and devoted servant, Moham- 
 med Ali, will consider himself highly honored, if permitted to 
 aid you in this great cause." 
 
 " I count on you," replied the pacha, inclining his head 
 graciously. " I know your devotion and zeal in my service, 
 and therefore do I advise with you in all my plans, and speak 
 to you as to my other self. To proceed : The Mameluke beys 
 who applied to England and France also addressed a letter to 
 me at the same time. In this letter they request me to con- 
 clude with them an armistice of five months' duration, in 
 order that they may address themselves to the sultan at Con- 
 stantinople, to settle, with the assistance of the English and 
 French ambassadors there, the terms of a final treaty of peace. 
 What do you think our answer to the demand of these Mame- 
 luke beys should be, Mohammed ? Shall we consent to this 
 armistice ? Give me your views without reserve. What is 
 your opinion ? " 
 
 " I think, highness, that it would be folly to grant this 
 armistice. The Mamelukes would avail themselves of this in- 
 terval to recruit their ranks, and would secretly import slaves. 
 They are cunning, and many resources are open to them. 
 They would make warriors of these slaves in five months, 
 and they would then be the first to recommence the war ! " 
 
 Cousrouf remained silent for a time. " You are a good 
 general in the field, and a good adviser in the cabinet. I re- 
 joice in your possession ! " said he, with his most gracious 
 manner. " Just as you think and say, have I determined, and 
 I have informed these insolent beys that I will not grant them 
 a respite of five months, nor of five weeks ; no, not of five 
 days. I, moreover, informed them that if they so ardently 
 desired to have peace, and to enjoy peace, they should submit, 
 and come to Cairo, and live here as Osman Bey Hassan does, 
 who has hitherto also been a Mameluke chieftain. Further, 
 I told them that I was ready to treat with them, and, in order 
 to be rid of this continuous plundering and robbing, I offered
 
 THE COUNCIL OF WAR. 31 J 
 
 to assign them the province of Esneh, in Upper Egypt, where 
 they might indulge their propensities to their hearts' content. 
 They, however, in their insolence, demanded that I should 
 give them the whole province of Girgeh in addition. This I 
 refused. And now, I think, we have had attempts enough at 
 peace-making. I will draw the sword again, and my armies 
 shall take the field against these insolent rebels. Youssouf 
 Bey, my lieutenant, leads the first column, and the second, my 
 Mohammed Ali, the second you will lead ! " 
 
 " I thank you, highness, and I promise to lead my soldiers 
 to hattle and victory, or to be brought back with the dead ! " 
 
 " You will lead them to victory, and return a victor. My 
 general, Taher Pacha, will unite his forces with yours and 
 Youssouf Bey's. Taher Pacha is already on the march from 
 Upper Egypt. And now, tell me, do you think our forces 
 are strong enough to chastise and overthrow the Mameluke 
 beys ? " 
 
 " In order to reply. I must first know the strength of all 
 your forces combined." He spoke with downcast eyes, appar- 
 ently all devotion, and only intent on his master's advantage. 
 Cousrouf Pacha was far from suspecting with what feverish 
 suspense the sarechsme awaited his reply. 
 
 " I will tell you, and you alone, Mohammed Ali," replied he, 
 in subdued tones. " We have only sixteen or seventeen thous- 
 and soldiers, and it will be difficult to concentrate them at one 
 point, as they are scattered throughout Middle and Upper 
 Egypt. The nucleus of this army that is to be formed consists 
 of the four thousand Albanians sent me by the capitan pacha, 
 and these Albanians count double. They are strong and 
 brave. To be sure they are also a little too wild and head- 
 strong ; and, in addition, they are not Turks." 
 
 " O highness," said Mohammed, with a sigh, " if that is a 
 fault, I must express my profound regret, as I unfortunately 
 am not a Turk myself." 
 
 " And yet I confide in you," said Cousrouf, " as I know 
 you are repairing the misfortune of your birth by your deeds. 
 But I would never place the same reliance in the old troops of 
 Albania ; and, therefore, I have formed a corps of Nubians, 
 and selected a body-guard from the number of these black
 
 312 MOHAMMED ALT AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 slaves, and upon them I can and do rely. They have become 
 good soldiers ; I have taken a number of French soldiers into 
 my service, and they have drilled my body-guard well. Yes, 
 upon them I can rely. If traitors should come near me, they 
 would slay them." 
 
 " How could traitors come near your highness ? " said Mo- 
 hammed, with an air of dismay. " Who could dare to threaten 
 Cousrouf Pacha, the kind and noble ruler, with treason ! No. 
 You can sleep in peace. Treason must stand aloof from your 
 great and sacred person." 
 
 The pacha shook his head. " The viceroy will not sleep in 
 peace, Mohammed, until you can announce to him that the 
 last Mameluke bey lies dead at your feet. " 
 
 " I trust, highness, that I shall soon be able to make this 
 announcement," said Mohammed, in kindly tones. " My most 
 ardent desire is to march out to battle, and prove to my 
 kind master that I am not only a good soldier, but also a true 
 and devoted servant." 
 
 " Then march out to battle, Mohammed, and be mindful of 
 what I before said. Cousrouf will, perhaps, be able to reward 
 the victorious Mohammed with a beautiful young wife, with 
 a rich dowry. Go ! Be mindful of this, and hold your troops 
 in readiness to march. Taher Pacha will already have re- 
 ceived my orders to join you ; and Youssouf Bey, my lieu- 
 tenant, is also ready to take the field. You will follow him 
 rapidly, and, united, you will give battle to the Mame- 
 lukes." He then dismissed Mohammed with a gracious saluta- 
 tion. 
 
 As the latter passes out through the antechamber, his head 
 humbly bowed down, he whispers to himself: "The black 
 body-guard would slay those who should threaten your life ! 
 Cousrouf Pacha, I am glad you rely on your black body- 
 guard I"
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 313 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 
 
 OSMAN BEY BARDISSI was encamped on the plain of Da- 
 manhour with his Mamelukes, awaiting the arrival of L'Elfi 
 Bey and his forces. Spies and scouts had announced that the 
 Turkish army was advancing from Cairo in two columns, 
 and that Taher Pacha was approaching from another direc- 
 tion from Upper Egypt at the head of seven thousand 
 men. 
 
 Bardissi's countenance lighted up with joy when the 
 Bedouin sheik Arnhyn brought this intelligence. 
 
 " The decisive moment, the day of battle is at hand. If we 
 are victors, how Sitta Nefysseh will smile on us, how happy 
 she will be ! " 
 
 Yes, the decisive moment is at hand. Perhaps Nefysseh's 
 cold heart will be touched, perhaps she will bestow upon the 
 victor a glorious reward herself. 
 
 But why does not L'Elfi come ? Without him Bardissi can- 
 not, he well knows, venture to give battle, for he, with his 
 men and the Mamelukes of Elmar Bey, is too weak to engage 
 an enemy of such superior strength. 
 
 " To be sure, the Turks are cowards," said Osman to him- 
 self ; " and against the Turks every Mameluke counts for two. 
 Yet, as the scouts announce, their forces are too strong for us. 
 Youssouf Bey comes first at the head of three thousand Turks, 
 and the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, follows him with five 
 thousand men. In addition to these, Taher Pacha is also 
 advancing with his forces ; if they all unite, it is impossi- 
 ble that we should be victorious, and yet we must be victori- 
 ous." 
 
 At last, intelligence is brought that L'Elfi Bey is advancing. 
 He, however, brings but few of his warriors with him. and his 
 countenance is sad and gloomy. 
 
 The beys, Osman at their head, gather around him, and im- 
 part to him the intelligence brought by the scouts with re- 
 gard to the strength of the enemy. 
 21
 
 314 MOHAMMED ALI AMJ HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " We should therefore advance against him as soon as pos- 
 sible, and vanquish one of his corps after the other before they 
 have time to unite." 
 
 L'Elfi Bey shook his head. " We must wait, friends and 
 companions in arms," said he. " I think it would be rash and 
 unwise to meet the enemy, when his army is twice as strong 
 as ours, and I came here to tell you this." 
 
 " Then, by Allah, it would have been better had you not 
 come ! " cried Bardissi, angrily. " Shall the Turks say of 
 us that we, the brave and haughty Mamelukes, have fled at 
 their approach ? " 
 
 u Let them say what they please, Osman Bey Bardissi," re- 
 sponded L'Elfi Bey, throwing his head back proudly. u What 
 care we ? We do not flee, we only retreat. And our friends 
 advise us to do this. " 
 
 " Who are these friends ? " asked Bardissi, angrily. 
 
 u The English, none of whom, as you know, have ever de- 
 ceived us. They have informed me that the Turks are advanc- 
 ing in three columns, and have advised me not to attack them. 
 They say it would be a great risk, and such a risk would not 
 be advisable without a better prospect of success. But we 
 could not hope for success, for, as you know yourselves, we 
 are in want of arms and ammunition. If vanquished, we 
 should also be massacred, and they would finish here at Da- 
 manhour the work they began at Aboukir. Can you desire 
 that, ye beys ? " 
 
 " We desire to conquer, and not to flee like cowards ! " re- 
 plied Bardissi, haughtily. 
 
 "The unwise general attacks incautiously, and when de- 
 feated is laughed at for his pains," replied L'Elfi. " The wise 
 general yields to necessity, and awaits his opportunity." 
 
 " Then you can wait, L'Elfi ! " cried Bardissi. 
 
 " I will wait, and have resolved to do so," said L'Elfi, 
 gravely. " I came to warn you, and not to take part in this 
 ridiculous expedition. But observe, Bardissi, I do not flee I 
 retreat. Woe to you if you do not follow my example ; woe 
 to you all if you let rashness instead of prudence prevail, and 
 attack the Turks now ! I repeat it, strong columns are ad- 
 vancing 1 First, Youssouf Bey ; then the shrewd sarechsme
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 
 
 you know, Bardissi, who told us to beware of him the shrewd 
 sarechsme, Mohammed All ; and, finally, Taher Pacha, and 
 woe to you if you venture to attack them ! " 
 
 " Woe to him who sees and understands his enemy, and yet 
 dare not attack him ! " cried Bardissi. 
 
 L'Elfi seemed not to hear him. He beckoned to the Mame- 
 lukes who had come with him, greeted his friends with a proud 
 inclination of the head, and galloped away. 
 
 At a short distance from the camp a small body of English 
 horsemen awaited L'Elfi and his Mamelukes. With them the 
 Mameluke chieftain rode off, riding day and night until they 
 reached Tantah ; there fresh horses awaited them, and thence 
 they continued their journey until they reached Alexandria. 
 Here L'Elfi Bey embarked with the Englishmen. For the sec- 
 ond time he left Egypt. He wished to forget in a foreign land 
 that Mourad's widow, the beautiful Sitta Nefysseh, had reject- 
 ed him and his love. It was no consolation to him that Bar- 
 dissi had suffered the same fate. Unrequited love causes bit- 
 ter anguish. L'Elfi thought only of his heart's misery, and 
 cared nothing for war and military renown. He will return 
 home when his heart's anguish is stilled. Then L'Elfi Bey 
 will draw his sword again to fight for victory and renown. 
 Bardissi felt differently. If the former felt that it was neces- 
 sary to go into solitude to heal his heart's wounds, the latter 
 preferred to seek distraction in inflicting wounds on his ene- 
 mies. "For every sigh that passes his lips he will make 
 a Turk exhale his life's breath," so thinks Bardissi <he 
 brave. 
 
 Immediately after L'Elfi's departure, Bardissi called the 
 kachef s of his Mamelukes, and those of Ibrahim Bey and Has- 
 san Aga together, to hold a grand council of war on the plain 
 of Damanhour. 
 
 " Do you wish to be cautious like L'Elfi ? shall we retreat 
 from the approaching enemy ? " cries Osman Bey, the crown 
 of bravery. " Speak, ye kachef s ! We ask your advice, for 
 not we alone, but you also, rush into danger. Our blood and 
 yours is to be shed alike. Therefore, let us take counsel to- 
 gether. The enemy is very strong, as you know. He is ap- 
 proaching in three columns. I pray you to consider and de-
 
 316 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 termine quickly, as the danger increases with each minute. 
 If the three columns unite, the danger is multiplied ; there- 
 fore, every thing depends on quick and resolute action. Yous- 
 souf Bey, Sheik Arnhyn informs us, is only two days' march 
 distant Mohammed Ali, three. It seems to me, our plan 
 should be to march against Youssouf, and vanquish him he- 
 fore Mohammed Ali can join him ; we will then attack Mo- 
 hammed Ali. Having vanquished both of them, I hardly 
 think Taher Pacha will have any desire to sustain the third de- 
 feat. We will then turn our attention to Cairo, now stripped 
 of soldiers." 
 
 Thekachefs, who had listened to Bardissi's words with 
 sparkling eyes, spoke as one man : 
 
 " We will not retreat from the enemy like L'Elfi ! Lead 
 us against him ! We will vanquish him ! We are strong 
 and courageous ! Our steeds will bear us upon them with the 
 wings of the wind, and our swords, aided by those of the in- 
 visible hosts, will prove invincible. The time has at last 
 come to let these Turks feel that we are heroes, and not cow- 
 ards. Lead us against the enemy ! " 
 
 ' Then retire to rest early," cried Bardissi, his countenance 
 radiant with joy. " Unsaddle your horses and let them rest, 
 too. To-morrow at the break of day we mount, and fly with 
 the wings of the wind to meet the enemy. Allah and his holy 
 hosts are with us." 
 
 " Allah and his holy hosts are with us ! " is the joyous cry 
 repeated by the kachefs. Soon all is still in the camp of Da- 
 manhour. Men and horses are at rest. 
 
 Bey Bardissi alone has not yet retired. He calls the Bed- 
 ouin sheik, Arnhyn, to his side. " You are brave and daring. 
 I have work for you, for which you shall be richly rewarded. 
 If we are victorious, you shall collect all the spoils you may 
 desire from the field of battle, and no one shall hinder you. 
 The steeds and saddles, and the arms and equipments of all the 
 captured Turks, shall be yours. As you know, three other 
 sheiks have already applied to me, and offered to assist with 
 their camels and horses. You shall, however, have the spoils 
 of the battle-field if you will perform the service I require of 
 you."
 
 THE ABDUCTION. 317 
 
 " Give me your commands, master," said the Bedouin sheik, 
 his eyes sparkling with delight. " If you do not require me 
 to pluck the sun from heaven, or to lay the moon and stars 
 at your feet. Sheik Arnhyn will execute your commands for 
 so rich a reward. Ah ! how delighted my daughter Butheita 
 will be when I bring her the beautiful horses, and glittering 
 swords and daggers ! The child loves such things. She is 
 not like other women, she is more like a man. How Butheita 
 will rejoice over the arms ! " 
 
 "Then make her rejoice, Arnhyn. And now hear how 
 you can do so. You informed me that Youssouf and his 
 forces were in advance of the others, and that Mohammed Ali 
 followed him ? " 
 
 " Thus it is ; a day's march in advance. But Mohammed 
 Ali, so everybody says, is a daring and untiring soldier. Who 
 knows but he may march at night, too, and unite with Yous- 
 souf ? " 
 
 " You are right, Arnhyn," replied Bardissi, " and it is this 
 that I wish to prevent. I wish, if possible, to avoid encounter- 
 ing Mohammed Ali. It is of this that I desire to speak with 
 you. Come, let us withdraw a little farther from the tents 
 and discuss this matter." 
 
 All is silent. The Mamelukes and kachefs lie sleeping be- 
 side their horses. No one hears what passes between the 
 Mameluke bey, Osman Bardissi, and the Bedouin sheik, 
 Arnhyn. 
 
 They speak in whispers ; no one sees Arnhyn display his 
 white teeth in his delight, nor sees the glad smile that sud- 
 denly lights up his countenance. 
 
 " A splendid scheme, master. By Allah ! I would do it 
 though you had not promised so rich a reward. I give 
 you my word it shall be done as you direct. We will make 
 Sarechsme Mohammed Ali harmless. " 
 
 " You will start out at once ? " said Bardissi. 
 
 "Immediately, master, for I must soon return," replied 
 Arnhyn. "By sunrise you will come up with Youssouf, 
 and I must be there with my ravens to gather the spoils. 
 I will now fly to my tent ; there near the Pyramids I shall 
 meet my daughter Butheita, and she will arrange the rest.
 
 318 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 You will find me at your tent by morning. If I am not 
 there, Osman Bey Bardissi, you will know that the Bed- 
 ouin sheik, Arnhyn, is no longer among the living, and 
 that the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, has been too shrewd for 
 him."
 
 BOOK IV. 
 THE VICEROY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BUTHEITA. 
 
 ON the green fields of Gheezeh, near the verge of the yel- 
 low desert, lies Mohammed Ali encamped with his forces. 
 Five thousand brave soldiers, among them the Albanian corps, 
 the best troops of the Turkish army, are under the command 
 of the young sarechsme. In advance of him, Youssouf Bey is 
 marching upon the Mamelukes with a corps of almost equal 
 strength. According to the viceroy's instructions, Moham- 
 med Ali is to wait and see if Youssouf Bey does not prove 
 strong enough to vanquish the Mamelukes unaided ; if this 
 should prove to be the case, it would not be advisable to lead 
 a splendid army corps into battle unnecessarily. 
 
 Mohammed Ali, however, well understood the secret mean- 
 ing of the viceroy's instructions. Youssouf Bey is his lieuten- 
 ant, his favorite, and his master is desirous that he alone 
 shall reap the golden fruit of victory. If he is defeated, 
 Mohammed is to march to Youssouf's assistance with all pos- 
 sible speed. The latter is a day's march in advance, and when 
 his messengers reach Mohammed it will already be too late ; 
 the battle will have been lost and a new one will have to be 
 fought with the elated victors. All this passes through 
 Mohammed's mind as he sits there in the silence and solitude 
 of the night. All are sleeping. The warriors lie scattered 
 over the wide plain beside their horses, their hands on their 
 swords. No tents have been pitched : what need of them, the 
 night is warm, and on the morrow they are to be on the 
 march again toward Damanhour ? 
 
 (819)
 
 320 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 For the sarechsme alone a tent had been pitched, which 
 could be seen from far out on the desert on whose verge it 
 stood. Any one bringing him a message would have found 
 the white tent, surmounted by a dark-red flag, without any 
 difficulty. As was customary, two sentinels stood in front of 
 the general's tent. When all had gone to rest, Mohammed 
 stepped out of his tent, and told the sentinels to lie down arid 
 go to sleep. What need of guards here in the midst of his faith- 
 ful warriors ? Let them all rest, for the morrow may be a day 
 of great toil and fatigue. The sentinels thanked the sarechs- 
 me, and then lay down to sleep, their muskets at their 
 side. 
 
 Mohammed returned to his tent, lay down on his mat, and, 
 supporting his head on his hand was soon absorbed in thought. 
 He lay there gazing out into the night, considering the vice- 
 roy's plans, and also considering whether it would be advis- 
 able to obey his instructions. 
 
 Youssouf Bey is to have all the glory of victory, but 
 Mohammed is to share defeat with him. If Youssouf Bey is 
 victorious, Mohammed must return to Cairo with his troops, 
 and the former will have reaped all the honors of the cam- 
 paign. But if Youssouf Bey is defeated, Mohammed will have 
 to march to his assistance with all possible speed, and will, 
 nevertheless, arrive too late, when the battle is already lost. 
 Then a new battle will have to be fought, and the Mamelukes, 
 elated with their success, will hurl themselves upon his forces, 
 and probably rout them. Victory would then be merely 
 possible at best, and shall he rely on this possibility ? It is to 
 be his first great battle, and dare he allow it to be a defeat ? 
 
 But what can he do ? 
 
 He considers this, and his present relations with the vice- 
 roy. Has the time come when he can lay hands to his task 
 with ruder touch ; will it do to substitute stern words for soft 
 flattery ? He will not be able to decide until after this battle 
 that is, if he is to take part in it at all. 
 
 While he lies there absorbed in thought, all has become 
 still without. The men are asleep ; no one moves, no eye is 
 open. No one sees a dark shadow flitting across the desert 
 toward the tents. Now it halts near that of the sarechsme.
 
 BUTHEITA. 
 
 321 
 
 A smaller shadow separates from the larger one ; it stoops low 
 and glides along slowly and cautiously. 
 
 All are wrapped in slumber. The shadow stops before the 
 tent ; and now something glitters, like two sparkling stars 
 fallen from heaven. 
 
 Perhaps they are the eyes of some savage beast prowling 
 near the camp in search of prey. 
 
 No one sees these eyes. They are not the eyes of an ani- 
 mal, but of a human being who now stands upright in front 
 of Mohammed's tent. 
 
 Sleep has waved its black pinions over Mohammed, as he 
 lies there lost in thought ; his senses have become gradually 
 confused, and he, too, now sleeps, dreaming of the viceroy, of 
 the morrow, and of the Mameluke bey Bardissi, whom he 
 would so gladly call his friend. 
 
 For a moment he opens his eyes ; it seems to him that he 
 hears a noise, a slight rustling against the canvas of the tent. 
 Yet he sees nothing, and all is still. It is only a dream. He 
 closes his eyes, the angel of sleep fans his brow, and his head 
 sinks back upon the mat again. 
 
 It would have been well had the sentinels stood guard. 
 They would not have allowed this black figure to spring into 
 the tent with the bound of a tiger, and then glide like the 
 noiseless serpent to the mat where Mohammed slept. They 
 could have prevented this spectre from so quickly and noise- 
 lessly binding his feet and hands with thin ropes that he did 
 not awake, and then suddenly and rapidly enveloping his head 
 with a thick cloth, and adroitly tying it in a knot. 
 
 The sarechsme, now aroused, raises his head to hear the 
 words : " Fear not, your life will be spared ! " murmured in 
 his ear. 
 
 And, while these words are being whispered, he feels the 
 cloth about his head, and that he can utter no cry or word ; 
 he also becomes aware that his hands and feet are securely 
 bound. 
 
 " And to this I have come ! " thinks he. " Thus am I to 
 die, an object of ridicule to the world and to myself ! " 
 
 And, strange to say, his thoughts suddenly revert to the 
 past. Thus bound and gagged, had he once lain in another
 
 322 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS MOUSE. 
 
 place. And he who perpetrated the horrible outrage, lives in 
 splendor, and Mohammed has lived in vain, and must die un- 
 avenged ! It is again Cousrouf Pacha who causes him to be 
 bound and borne out. " Whither ? whither ? I ask ! Do I 
 not already know ? Out to the Nile that glittered in the sun- 
 light before me a few hours since. Oh, had I but known that 
 it was to be my grave, and that Cousrouf had read and under- 
 stood my thoughts ! He felt that it was he or I, that one must 
 go down ; and now he stands secure on the heights, and I 
 must sink down, down ! " 
 
 Such are the thoughts that harrow his soul as he is lifted 
 up by two strong arms and borne out into the night. He 
 feels the quick breathing of him in whose arms he is 
 borne ; he is no light burden even for Sheik Arnhyn's strong 
 arms. 
 
 " How heavy you are, sarechsme ! " murmurs he, smiling. 
 "How light the viceroy's army will be, when the heavy and 
 distinguished sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, is wanting ! " 
 
 All is still about them. Mohammed vainly endeavors to 
 cry out, to release his hands ; he is securely bound, and his 
 lips can utter no word. 
 
 They stop at last, and Arnhyn speaks, but in such low 
 tones that Mohammed can understand nothing. He only 
 hears another voice replying. Then he is lifted high and de- 
 posited on a soft cushion. 
 
 "Now, Butheita," murmured tbe voice of him who had 
 borne him from the tent, " ride on to the tent with him, and 
 keep him securely until our master, Osman Bey Bardissi, 
 comes to speak with him ! Guard him well, for you must 
 know, my daughter, that, dearly as your father loves you, 
 Butheita must die if he escapes. This, I swear, by Allah, so 
 be on your guard, my daughter ! " 
 
 " You can rely on me, Father Arnhyn," replied the soft 
 voice of a woman. " I shall guard him as though he were 
 my dearest treasure on earth ; he shall not escape Butheita." 
 
 " Then farewell, my child ! I must now hasten back, for 
 to-morrow will be a day of battle. But I hope to bring you 
 rich spoils in two days, and Osraan Bey has promised to re- 
 ward me well for ray work. Hold him fast, Butheita ; he is
 
 BUTHEITA. 323 
 
 bound and gagged, and you have nothing to fear from him. 
 Allah be with you, my child ! " 
 
 And now they ride swiftly through the night. Whither ? 
 He knows not. He lies bound on a cushion, and only feels, 
 by the movement of the animal, and by the shaking and jolt- 
 ing his body undergoes, that he is on the back of a dromedary. 
 Sometimes, when, as it seems to him, he is on the point of 
 being hurled from his high seat, he feels himself grasped and 
 placed in an easier position on his cushion by two arms, and 
 then on they move again at a swift trot. He feels that they 
 are riding through the desert. The camel's feet sink deep 
 into the sand, and then, when the ground beneath becomes 
 firm, their speed is increased, and lessened when it again sinks 
 into the sand. To Mohammed the ride seems to have lasted 
 an eternity already. However, a few hours only have passed, 
 when the dromedary halts, and a sweet voice whispers : 
 
 " I am sorry for you ; it is horrible to be borne on through 
 the night this way, bound and gagged, your face covered. I 
 should like to relieve you by removing the cloth. But if you 
 are cruel, you might tear my arm with your teeth." 
 
 Mohammed shakes his head slightly, and she feels the 
 movement in her arm that encircles his head. 
 
 " You shake your head and promise not to do so, stranger, 
 and I will trust you. I will free your head and lips, but I 
 must first bind you to the saddle, to make sure of you." She 
 unwinds the shawl from her delicate waist, slips it around his 
 body, and binds him securely to the palanquin ; she then un- 
 ties the knot binding the cloth that envelops his head and 
 passes over his mouth. The cloth falls down and Mohammed 
 breathes freer and looks up. It is a clear, starry night, and 
 Butheita's eyes are accustomed to darkness, and see as well at 
 night as in the daytime. She gazes down upon his counte- 
 nance, and a sunny smile illumines her features. He sees her 
 not ; his eyes are still blinded ; neither can he speak yet, he 
 can only breathe more freely, and he eagerly inhales the fresh 
 night air. 
 
 " Handsome is the stranger," said she, in a voice of won- 
 drous sweetness. "Already a sarechsme, and still so young! 
 I supposed my father had brought me an old gray-beard, and
 
 324 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 it had distressed me to torment you so, and now I see a strong 
 young hero, and I feel doubly distressed at your being the 
 prisoner of a poor girl." 
 
 He looks up, and now he sees the fair face with its starlike 
 eyes sparkling down upon him. The night is clear, and the 
 yellow sand whirled aloft by the camel's feet imparts a golden 
 lustre to the atmosphere ; the appearance of the horizon also 
 announces that the rosy dawn is about to contend with the 
 starry night. Mohammed sees the lovely countenance with 
 its brown tint, and its large black eyes and crimson lips, dis- 
 closing, as they now smile, her pearly teeth. 
 
 "Pity me not, Butheita," murmured he. "To be the pris- 
 oner of a man would put the sarechsme to shame ; but to be 
 the prisoner of a houri of paradise, who holds him in sweet 
 captivity, is, it seems to me, an enviable lot." 
 
 " You speak prettily, O stranger," said she, her countenance 
 beaming with delight. "Your words come like music from 
 your lips ; such sweet words I never heard before. You speak 
 as the scha-er sings, whom I once heard when with my father 
 in Tantah. Oh, speak on, sing on, for songs resound from 
 your lips ! " 
 
 "If my words are songs, yours are tones of the harp," 
 murmured he. " Oh, tell me, Butheita, where are we going ? 
 Who has commanded you to bear me away thus ? " 
 
 " Did you not hear ? I obey the commands of my father, 
 who is in Osman Bey's service. I do not know what they 
 want of you, yet I believe they fear you, and wish to keep you 
 from taking part in the great battle to-morrow. Yes, I know 
 they fear you, for you are a hero. Now, I know how a hero 
 must look, for you are a hero, and your eyes are as mighty as 
 a host of armed warriors. Oh, now I understand why Osman 
 Bey fears you, and why he offered my father so rich a reward 
 to keep you from taking part in to-morrow's battle." 
 
 " That is it, that is then the reason I am led away cap- 
 tive," cried Mohammed, not in threatening or lamenting 
 tones, but joyously, for he feels that Cousrouf has answered 
 the question with which he had vainly tormented himself ; 
 he had hesitated, now he feels that he has advanced a step 
 farther toward his aim. Now he knows what he has to do ;
 
 BUTHEITA. 325 
 
 Fate has pointed out the road to his goal through Butheita, 
 and he feels that she will lead him on until he reaches the 
 throne seen by his mother in her dreams, and becomes the 
 avenger of her he loved, of his Masa. 
 
 She still gazed upon the upturned countenance of her pris- 
 oner, now lighted up by the rosy light of the morning sun ; 
 she is struck with the tone of his voice, and is surprised to 
 learn that the sarechsme is not dejected at his captivity. 
 
 '* You rejoice," said she, smiling, and again displaying her 
 beautiful teeth. " You rejoice over your captivity." 
 
 " I should like to be such a captive forever, Butheita ; it is 
 heavenly to be encircled in these fair arms." 
 
 " You are singing your sweet songs again, and oh, they 
 sound so sweet ! " said she. And yet, as he attempts to lay his 
 head closer to her shoulder, she timidly recoils with an anx- 
 ious look in her eyes. 
 
 " Not so, stranger. Honor the hospitality of my house, for 
 my dromedary is my house, and I wish you to be my guest. 
 And, that you may see that Butheita is sensible of the duties 
 of a hostess, accept this banana and refresh yourself ; you will 
 need it." 
 
 She takes two bananas from the bag that hangs at the side 
 of the saddle, and with delight Mohammed sees her peel the 
 rich fruit, which she hands him with a delicious smile. 
 
 "Eat, stranger ; eat, and refresh yourself." 
 
 She has forgotten that he is bound, and that he cannot take 
 the fruit from her hand. 
 
 " This heavenly fruit must be administered by your fair 
 hand alone," said he. " As my hands are bound, you must 
 hold it to my lips yourself. Oh, that they were to be refreshed 
 with yours instead of the banana ! " 
 
 She smiles and looks down, blushingly. She then breaks 
 the fruit and brings it to his lips in little morsels. And each 
 time he raises his lips so high, that they touch not only the 
 fruit but also her delicate brown fingers. It was sweet play, 
 and Mohammed forgets all else. This night, minutes have 
 been as hours to him, and now he would have them become 
 eternities. Lovely is this child of the desert that bends down 
 over him ; a whole world of maidenly purity and sweetness
 
 326 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 and untamed nature sparkles down upon him from out those 
 large, dark eyes. And so beautiful and innocent are those 
 crimson lips ! Oh, that this minute could endure forever ! 
 
 But time passes relentlessly over all that is most beautiful, 
 and this blissful moment is at an end. Now that he has fin- 
 ished eating the fruit, Butheita remembers that her father's 
 tent is yet far distant, and that she must arrive there soon after 
 daybreak. She must have brought her prisoner to the tent 
 before life shall have awakened on the desert. Some Bedouin 
 might easily take from her or rescue her prisoner, and then 
 her fate would be sealed, for the sheik will, she knows, keep 
 his word. "Then onward, my dromedary, onward !" And 
 now both are silent, playing and love-making are at an end, 
 and onward they speed toward her father's tent. "Onward, 
 my dromedary, ship of the desert, fly swiftly ! " And, as if 
 understanding her words, the animal increases its speed over 
 the sand. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 IN THE DESERT. 
 
 THE ship of the desert is still flying over the plain. The 
 sun has arisen, and throws across the sand the long shadow 
 of the dromedary and of the two human heads. Butheita is 
 seated on the palanquin, high up on the dromedary's back. 
 She observes the long shadow and the two heads bobbing up 
 and down, and a merry burst of laughter resounds from her 
 lips. 
 
 " Look at these shadows ! Only look at them, stranger ; 
 see, they are kissing each other in the sand ! " 
 
 " And why the shadows only, Butheita ? I wish you 
 would do as your shadow, and bend your head down a little 
 closer." 
 
 " Oh, do not say such things ! " said she, blushing and 
 drawing her head still farther back. "I have promised my 
 father never to allow a stranger to kiss me until he shall come 
 who is to lead me to his tent as his wife. And this is why I am
 
 IN THE DESERT. 327 
 
 permitted to wander freely through the desert, and not cooped 
 up in the second apartment of the tent, and not compelled to 
 cover my face with a veil. However, when I ride with father 
 to Tantah, then, O stranger, I dress myself up as the women 
 of the cities do ! Then I wear a long silk dress and a splendid 
 veil, and color my lips and hands with henna ! " 
 
 " That is to say, Butheita, you make of the houri of para- 
 dise an ordinary human being. I should not like to see you 
 when you look like other women. You are the Queen of the 
 Desert, Butheita.'' 
 
 " How do you know that ? So am I called by the Bedouins 
 who are my father's subjects. Yes, they are very respectful to 
 their sheik's daughter, and call me Queen of the Desert. They 
 sometimes say," continued she, smiling : " ' Her countenance 
 shines like the sun, enkindling in flames the hearts of all who 
 approach her.' I, however, hold myself aloof from them, and 
 do not listen to what they say, else my father would become 
 angry, and would deprive me of my liberty to roam about as 
 I please. And now you know all, stranger, and know why I 
 may not kiss you, though I would gladly do something to 
 please the poor prisoner ; but I have promised this to my 
 father and to myself. Therefore, no more of this. Here we 
 must halt. Look at the sublime image that stands there so 
 grandly, and throws its black shadow far out over the yellow 
 sand. That is the true Queen of the Desert. Let me turn the 
 animal so that you can see our queen." 
 
 Mohammed looked up and bowed his head in awe before 
 the monster image that stood before him. He saw a human 
 face and a mighty figure towering before him in gigantic pro- 
 portions. Yes, it was a human countenance ! From out those 
 eyes, which seemed to compass a whole world within their 
 deep hollows, the grandeur and sublimity of the human mind 
 appeared to speak to him. What majestic thought was reflect- 
 ed in that massive forehead ? The eloquent mouth seemed to 
 announce the grand mystery of the universe. The whole 
 mighty countenance seemed to contain a heaven of sublime 
 peace, and to be radiant with a happiness unknown to the hu- 
 man breast on earth, for man has suffered and suffers. Doubt, 
 anxiety, care, and misery, have sojourned in every mortal
 
 328 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 breast ; but this countenance, that towers like a mountain in 
 its divine majesty, knows nothing of human doubt and suffer- 
 ing. Its face is radiant with divine, eternal tranquillity with 
 the peace of the universe. 
 
 '' How grand, how sublime ! '' murmured Mohammed, gaz- 
 ing fixedly at the colossal image that has for thousands of years 
 looked on man, and smiled on him from out the depths of its 
 unfathomable eyes. The sphinx has looked calmly down up- 
 on generation after generation, upon men of every faith and 
 religion, and has seen them pass away. Heathens have be- 
 come Christians, Jews, Mohammedans, and the latter in their 
 turn have become converted to other faiths, and change upon 
 change has taken place. The sphinx has looked down upon 
 all this ! itself divine, unchangeable in the midst of all that 
 has passed and passes away. 
 
 "See," murmured Butheita, "this is the Queen of the 
 Desert. She is the holy sphinx, before whom men and women 
 have fallen in the dust for thousands of years, and before 
 whom kings and emperors prostrate themselves to this day. 
 Thus spoke the scha-er whom I heard when with my father in 
 Tantah a short time since : ' He who approaches the protect- 
 ing goddess of mankind must fall down in the dust before her, 
 and worship Allah and the saints.' 
 
 " Kneel down, my dromedary, kneel down, my Alpha ! " 
 and she draws in her reins, repeating the words in imperious 
 tones. The animal understands her, and sinks gravely upon 
 its knees. Butheita bounds down from her seat with the light 
 ness of the gazelle, and bows low before the sphinx, her arms 
 crossed on her breast. 
 
 From the back of the dromedary, where he lies bound, her 
 prisoner looks down with admiration upon the lovely girlish 
 figure that skips lightly across the sand to the foot of the god- 
 like figure. How small she appears beside the mighty image, 
 like a flower blooming at its feet. 
 
 Butheita kneels down before the sphinx and murmurs a 
 prayer for protection for herself and father, for the tent in 
 which they dwell, for the dromedary, and for the goats ; and 
 finally also for the stranger whom she is about to lead to her 
 tent. " Grant, O Allah, that I may be mild, and that he may
 
 IN THE DESERT. 329 
 
 not feel his fetters too severely ! And you, O holy goddess of 
 the desert, grant that Butheita's heart may remain pure and 
 strong, and that she may be enabled to keep the promise made 
 to her father ! " 
 
 As she murmurs these words a slight tremor possessed 
 itself of her delicate figure, and piously and timidly she looks 
 up into the illimitable, unfathomable eyes of the sphinx, that 
 gaze out upon the whole world. Then she rises and smilingly 
 salutes once more with her little brown hand the Queen of the 
 Desert, and, springing lightly upon the back of her dromedary, 
 grasps the reins. 
 
 Butheita's countenance now wears a serious expression. It 
 seems she has brought solemn thoughts with her from the 
 goddess of the desert, and from time to time she casts a timid 
 glance at the prisoner, who lies bound before her. The drom- 
 edary moves on at a uniform speed. Those it is bearing on- 
 ward speak but litttle. Butheita's heart is oppressed; the 
 sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, is thoughtful and grave. 
 
 Once Butheita raises her arm and points to some towering 
 objects defined sharply against the sky in the distance. 
 
 " See, stranger, see ; those are the grand monuments of our 
 kings, the Pharaohs, the pyramids, and there lies Sakkara, 
 where the graves of the holy oxen are to be seen. We are 
 almost at our journey's end. There lies the village of Petre- 
 sin. Its inhabitants still sleep, and the doors of the huts are 
 closed : they do not see us. That is well, that is necessary ; 
 my father said no one must know that we are taking you 
 away a prisoner. Do you see that little spot on the verge 
 of the desert ? That is my father's tent." 
 
 Butheita patted her dromedary on the neck with her little 
 hand, urging it to greater speed. Like an arrow they flew 
 across the sand until they had reached her father's tent. 
 Butheita drew in her reins at the door and commanded the 
 animal to kneel down. 
 
 " Stranger, we are at our journey's end ! At the threshold 
 of our tent, Butheita bids you welcome, blessed be your 
 entrance into our house ! '' 
 
 She quickly loosens the shawl that binds him to the saddle, 
 and before he is aware of what she is doing lifts him in her 
 22
 
 330 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 arms. Lightly, as though he were a plaything, she bears him 
 into the inner apartment of the tent, where she smilingly 
 deposits him on a mat. 
 
 " Blessed be your entrance into my tent ! Now refresh your- 
 self with repose after your long ride. I am going out to pre- 
 pare your breakfast." 
 
 He follows Butheita with eager eyes, as she steps into the 
 other apartment of the tent. Forgotten are all the schemes 
 and thoughts that ordinarily occupy him day and night. 
 Forgotten are the past and future; he now lives for the pres- 
 ent only. May the sun mercifully stand still, and this hour 
 prove an eternity! Why occupy himself with thoughts of 
 the future, the present is so beautiful, so heavenly ? Oh, that 
 it could last forever ! But no ! a cloud passes over his brow ; 
 he remembers 
 
 " No ! Let the present pass rapidly," said he. " I am a 
 prisoner, and how would my soldiers laugh to see the sarechs- 
 me, Mohammed Ali, bound and a captive in the tent of a 
 Bedouin chieftain!" 
 
 He knew that Butheita had remained in the other apart- 
 ment and heard his words. She quickly went to him, pro- 
 found sorrow depicted in her charming countenance. 
 
 " They would laugh at you, sarechsme ? Oh, how sorry I 
 should be to have them do so ! True, it is unpleasant to be a 
 prisoner. Yet, you must know that my father is higbly 
 esteemed; he is the first man of the village. O sarechsme, the 
 Bedouins call him their father, their protector, and the Mame- 
 lukes are proud of his friendship ; and it was out of love for 
 them that he made you a prisoner. If you are unhappy, oh, 
 forgive poor Butheita, who was compelled to obey her father's 
 commands ! Oh, do not be angry with her ! " 
 
 " I am not angry with you," said he, gently. " Yet con- 
 sider, is it not hard and shameful for me, a man and a soldier, 
 to lie here bound hand and foot ? " 
 
 Her countenance lighted up with joy. " Yes, I understand 
 that," said she, thoughtfully. " It pains me to the soul, not to 
 be able to lessen your misery, to improve your condition. 
 Yet," she suddenly continued, " I can and I will relieve you." 
 
 "That you can, if you will," murmured he. "Seat your-
 
 IN THE DESERT. 33 J 
 
 self beside me, Butheita. Let me hear your voice. Tell me 
 the sweet history of your heart. Remain with me till your 
 father comes. While listening I shall forget all shame and 
 disgrace, and rejoice only in your presence. It would seem 
 as though a good spirit had led me into another world, where 
 an angel was bowed down over me, to whom I looked up in 
 sweet ecstasy ! " 
 
 u No, it will only be a poor child of the desert, who sits be- 
 side you. 1 ' said Butheita, smiling. " Only look at poor, miser- 
 able me. There is nothing beautiful or radiant about me, 
 proud stranger ! Let me go, you would die of hunger and 
 thirst if I remained here, and it would be shameful, too, if I 
 should neglect the duty of hospitality toward my guest. But 
 I will tell you what I can and will do ! You shall not lie 
 there bound. I will not have it so, Mohammed Ali. Give 
 me your sacred word that you will not leave, but will remain 
 here until my father comes for you. Give me your word, and 
 I will untie the cords that bind your hands and feet. Give 
 me your word." 
 
 He looks at her in astonishment. 
 
 " Do you still have such faith in man's promises that you 
 believe I would keep my word if I gave it ? " 
 
 " Yes," said she, smiling ; "I do ; this would be a horrible 
 world if one could not. My father has often said to me : 
 ' When a man has given his word he keeps it, though the con- 
 sequence should be death. Thus a truly brave man acts ; only 
 cowards break their word.' " 
 
 " Then you consider me a truly brave man, Butheita, and 
 not a coward ? " 
 
 " It is only necessary to look at you, stranger," said she, 
 with a winning smile, "to feel in the depths of one's heart 
 that you are a man, and no coward. Give me your word, and 
 you are unfettered. Give me your word that you will not 
 leave." 
 
 " Well," said he, gazing at her joyously, " I give you my 
 word, as a man ! I swear by Allah, and the prophet, and by my 
 own honor, I will not leave here until your father comes and 
 says that I may, and states the conditions. I will, if you will 
 permit me, remain with you in the mean while, and do nothing
 
 332 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 but look at you. I will be your slave; drink the sweet dew 
 from your lips, and read your commands in your eyes. Tell 
 me, pearl of women, will you accept me as your slave ? " 
 
 Without answering his question, she knelt down blushingly, 
 and untied the cords that bound his hands and feet. " Now, 
 stand up, a free man ! '' 
 
 He arose, and with a feeling of intense relief, stretched out 
 the hands that ached from their long confinement, and 
 extended his arms. He would gladly have clasped the girl in 
 their embrace, but, with the grace and ease of a gazelle, she 
 sprang back out of his reach to the door of the tent, and 
 looked at him threateningly. 
 
 " Mohammed Ali, if you abuse your freedom, you are not 
 the man I took you to be. " 
 
 He bowed his head in silence. "You are right, Butheita, 
 forgive me ! I submit to the will of the desert queen ; I am 
 your slave, and await your commands ; command me, and I 
 will humbly obey. " 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly. Butheita's large black eyes 
 gazed at him with a soft expression, and again a tremor agi- 
 tated her gentle being. 
 
 " I desire nothing more, sarechsme," said she, timidly, " than 
 that you remain here in the rear apartment of the tent, and I 
 beg you, should any one come, to remain here quietly; as it is 
 that place generally reserved for women, no one will dare to 
 enter it. I dwell in it alone, for my father is not fond of 
 women! He says they are talkative and quarrelsome, vain 
 and lazy, too, and he has had enough of them. Twelve wives 
 has he brought to his tent, one after the other, but after a 
 short time he sent every one of them home to her father. I 
 am the daughter of his first wife, and my father loves me more 
 than he has ever loved any of them ; and he wants no woman 
 in his tent but his Butheita. Nor do I wish to have any other 
 woman here. I can attend to father's household affairs 
 quite well, alone. I milk the goats, make the butter, and bake 
 the bread. I also spin the wool of our black sheep, and still 
 have plenty of time left to knit tbe shawls my father 
 needs." 
 
 " So industrious, Butheita ? Happy and enviable will the
 
 IN THE DESERT. 333 
 
 man be who shall some day lead your father's daughter to his 
 home!" 
 
 " You need not envy him," said she, quickly, " there will 
 be no such man. It is with me as with my father ; he loves 
 only me, and I only him. No man shall ever lead me to his 
 tent as his wife ! " 
 
 u Butheita will say that until she loves some man," replied 
 Mohammed, looking deeply into her eyes. " Would Butheita 
 one day follow me to my tent me ? " 
 
 She did not reply. She drew back in alarm, and again she 
 blushed deeply, quite unlike a child of the desert, but after 
 the fashion of a city girl, and drew aside the curtain that 
 divided the tent. 
 
 "I am only going to prepare your breakfast." 
 
 He did as she had requested, and retired to the second 
 apartment of the tent, to patiently await Butheita's return. 
 There he sat absorbed in thought, seemingly forgetful that he 
 was the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, and a captive, for a happy 
 smile rested on his lips. His thoughts were beyond the sea, 
 in the distant Cavalla. Whom did he see there ? It seems to 
 him that Masa stands before him with her large soft eyes, and 
 sweet smile ; and Masa's image is strangely interwoven with 
 that of the Bedouin-child, Butheita. The two fair forms were 
 blended, and it did not displease him. Yet another face is 
 there. It regards him with a grave yet kindly expression. 
 It is not the face of a young girl ; sweet and youthful fresh- 
 ness and love are not in its features, and yet it is a loved face, 
 that of his wife Ada, the mother of his children. No, he has 
 not forgotten her ! How could it be possible after living side 
 by side in peace and harmony for almost ten years ! How 
 could it be possible to forget her who had given him three 
 loved lives ? Ah, his beloved boys, how his heart yearns 
 after them ! Yet his heart yearns for her too, for his wife. 
 
 For almost ten years this quiet-loving woman has sat by 
 his side, and he will never put her away from him, never for- 
 get her, the mother of his children. Years pass rapidly, but a 
 man's heart does not grow old. A man's heart is ever young, 
 ever fresh for a new love, and every love seems to him to be 
 the first.
 
 334 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 If Butheita were not the daughter of a Bedouin chieftain, 
 but a Georgian or Circassian slave, he would give for her all 
 the riches he possesses ; the beautiful house and furniture 
 given him by Cousrouf Pacha. He would make her his wife, 
 cost what it might. "I thank you, O Mohammed, thou 
 great prophet, who, reading the heart of man, allows him 
 to have four wives. I would Butheita were my second 
 wife." 
 
 The curtain of the tent is drawn aside, and Butheita enters, 
 a wooden waiter in her hand. All that she has to set before 
 her guest, the beautiful dates and bananas, the black bread, 
 the butter, all are nicely arranged on the waiter, which she 
 now smilingly deposits at the feet of her guest. 
 
 " Now seat yourself on the mat, beloved guest, and refresh 
 yourself with what poor Butheita has to offer you. Pray take 
 the bread and break it, and let us eat it together in token that 
 we are friends, and that you are sacred to me." 
 
 " And you are sacred to me," replies Mohammed, gravely, 
 as he takes up the black bread and breaks it. Together they 
 eat of it, and then sit down beside each other, and refresh them- 
 selves with Butheita's daintily -arranged fruits and goat's milk. 
 Butheita tells him in her charming way of her housekeeping, 
 of her sheep and goats, and how glad they were when she re- 
 turned. 
 
 Mohammed has forgotten his ambitious plans, all the 
 thousand wishes that agitated his heart at other times. For 
 the moment he is once more the boy of Ca valla, communing 
 with Nature in innocence and joyousness, for to him Buthei- 
 ta's fair form now represents Nature ! It is not indeed Nature 
 itself that charms him, but Nature's fair daughter, Butheita. 
 He must and will resist the charm, for he has now broken 
 bread, and eaten fruit with her. He is her guest, and he must 
 hold his young hostess sacred. 
 
 He forces himself to assume a grave manner, and directs 
 his thoughts to turn from her fair presence and occupy them- 
 selves with the events that have taken place, and the great 
 wrong done him. Perhaps at this moment a battle is raging 
 on the plain of Damanhour, and Youssouf Bey is perhaps vic- 
 torious over the Mamelukes. What will his fate be in that
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 335 
 
 case ? will not the defeated enemy avenge themselves cruelly 
 on him ? But if, on the other hand, Youssouf has been routed 
 and put to flight, then woe to you alike, Mohammed ! Yous- 
 souf will then complain of him to Cousrouf Pacha, and he will 
 be accused of treason yes, of treason, if he does not confess 
 that he is a prisoner. But, if he confesses this, he will be- 
 come the laughing-stock of the whole army. Yes, in Buthei- 
 ta's presence all that was painful and disagreeable in his posi- 
 tion had been forgotten. Now he endeavors to force his 
 thoughts to consider these things. Away with thoughts of 
 thee, Queen of the Desert ! 
 
 He rises from the mat, and thanks his hostess for the re- 
 past in set phrases, and with a cold manner ; he begs her to 
 pay no attention to him, and not to allow herself to be dis- 
 turbed in her household occupations by him. Butheita looks 
 at him with astonishment an expression of offended pride in 
 her countenance. 
 
 " You desire to be alone, stranger ? I can well understand 
 that my foolish words annoy you. I will leave you alone, 
 sarechsme. I see well you are a proud man, and it does not 
 seem proper to you to be alone with a Bedouin's daughter 
 long. I can not prevent it ; forgive me. I will attend to my 
 household affairs, as you suggest. I rely on your promise, 
 stranger, not to leave the inner apartment." 
 
 " You can rely on my word," said he, earnestly. " I am 
 your prisoner, your slave. I am so more completely than you 
 think." 
 
 A charming smile again lights up her brown countenance. 
 With a joyous nod of her head, she bounds out of the tent. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 
 
 THE sun was already low in the heavens. The palm-trees 
 in the neighboring wood of Petresin threw long shadows 
 across the yellow sand, and yet Sheik Arnhyn had not yet
 
 336 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 come, and Mohammed waited in vain for intelligence con- 
 cerning his captor's purposes. 
 
 He had again been seated with Butheita on the mat, and 
 had eaten with her as in the morning. 
 
 He had endeavored to chat gayly with the Queen of the 
 Desert ; but her quick eye had read in his countenance that 
 a cloud rested on his soul, and the brightness faded from her 
 eyes. 
 
 She turned to him when he had risen from the mat and 
 was walking thoughtfully to and fro in the narrow tent. 
 " Tell me, O stranger, is your heart so very sad ? Is there 
 nothing Butheita can do for you ? You are wearied ; this 
 space is too narrow for you. Your soul, whose wings are 
 pinioned, would fly out into the world. The world without is 
 very beautiful, I know." 
 
 " Do you know this world ? " asked Mohammed, his lips 
 smiling as he looked at her. 
 
 " Yes, I do," said she. " I have been with father to Tantah 
 several times. While there I heard the scha-er tell their 
 beautiful stories of Ey-Zahir. I listened with breathless at- 
 tention. And then, too, I heard the female singers, the Ga- 
 vasi. They sang beautiful songs, and the words and tones 
 have often since resounded in my heart. Do you know, sa- 
 rechsme, that often, when my father had gone out with his Bed- 
 ouins to fight or to plunder, as was sometimes the case, then 
 my only pleasure was to take down the zammarah bisoan, on 
 which my mother played, and sing to its accompaniment the 
 songs I had learned from the Gavasi. Shall I sing them for 
 you ? Shall I ? But you must not laugh at me for repeating 
 what the Gavasi sang in Tantah." 
 
 Without awaiting a reply, she took down the little bagpipe 
 with its bag of goat-skin, and to its shrill accompaniment 
 sang a quaint love-song with an admixture of the comic. 
 
 Her countenance had become grave, and a sweet fire 
 burned in her eyes, while singing to the monotonous air in a 
 shrill, vibrating voice, as was customary with the street-singers 
 of the Egyptian towns. When she had finished her song, she 
 turned the gaze of her dark eyes upon Mohammed with an 
 inquiring expression. When she saw the smile on his coun-
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 337 
 
 tenance, and encountered the wondrous glance that seemed to 
 penetrate to her very soul, she started. " It pleases you," said 
 she ; " I read in your countenance that you are pleased. Then 
 I will sing you another song. " 
 
 She took up her instrument again, and sang, in loud, joy- 
 ous tones, a song about a gazelle-like maiden who had run 
 away with her lover's soul, concluding with 
 
 " Throughout the long, long night his sighing ceases not, 
 his sighing for the dear gazelle that stole away his soul. Have 
 pity on your lover ; come back to me, gazelle ! " 
 
 " Gazelle, come back to me ! " cried Mohammed, with out- 
 stretched arms. " Gazelle, have pity on your lover ! " 
 
 She seemed not to have heard him, bowed down over her 
 instrument, and played in such loud, shrill tones, that it al- 
 most deafened Mohammed, who well understood Butheita's 
 motive in playing so. 
 
 He smiled at her in silence. Butheita laughed. 
 
 " You see my song has gladdened you, and your counte- 
 nance smiles again. O joy ! See, there in the distance ! Yes, 
 there come two figures ! That is my father, that is Sheik Arn- 
 hyn ! Some one accompanies him ! Rejoice, sarechsme ; you 
 will be relieved of your ennui ! " . 
 
 He laid his hand gently on her shoulder, and regarded her 
 with a long, earnest look, that recalled the roses to her brown 
 cheeks. 
 
 " I do not rejoice, Butheita, Queen of the Desert. I have 
 erected a throne for you in my heart, and my heart spoke to 
 you in the words of your song ' Throughout the long, long 
 night my sighing ceases not, my sighing for the dear gazelle 
 that stole away my heart.' Then speak, gazelle : shall I take 
 you with me ? will you live with me in the great city ? Speak 
 to me, gazelle ! " 
 
 She gazed far out over the yellow sand toward the two 
 specks, in which her keen eye recognized two human figures, 
 but in which he saw only two black specks that gradually in- 
 creased in size. 
 
 ''Answer me, Butheita. Their coming does not gladden 
 me, and the thought of leaving you makes me sad. If you 
 fancy I have found it dull here, you are in error. My heart is
 
 338 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 only too much occupied. Butheita, sweetest of maidens, speak 
 to me ! Speak to me, gazelle ! " 
 
 '' See, sarechsme father waves his hand ! " cried she. " He 
 already sees us standing here ; his eye is as keen as an eagle's. 
 He sees us ! Come, let us step back for a moment, I have 
 something to say to you. To be sure I might have told you 
 where we were," she continued, blushing, as she stepped be- 
 hind the curtain. " I might as well have told you at the 
 door, for father could not have heard it, although he could 
 see us." 
 
 " Speak, Butheita, what did you wish to say ? Speak ! " 
 
 " I have forgotten, sarechsme. But I believe I wished to 
 thank you for saying you had not found it dull here. It 
 seems to me that only a moment has passed since I saw you 
 yesterday, and yet it is an eternity. Yesterday lies far behind 
 me, and to-day seems entirely different. The sun seems to be 
 another, and I myself another, too. You see I am a very silly 
 child." 
 
 "And why do you falter? Why do I see tears in your 
 eyes, Butheita ? " 
 
 " Because I'm a foolish child ! A strange feeling comes 
 over me," said she, sadly. " You will now go ; the man who 
 is coming with father will take you away from us, and I shall 
 never see you again." 
 
 " Then give me, O Butheita, give me one of the roses that 
 blossom on your lips." 
 
 "That blossom on my lips?" said she, surprised, as she 
 passed her little brown hand across her mouth. " A rose on 
 my lips ? What does that mean, stranger ? " 
 
 He bowed down over her. She felt his warm breath on her 
 brown cheek. 
 
 " Give me a rose ! Let me pluck a kiss from your 
 lips ! " 
 
 Butheita's cheeks blushed crimson. She put out her rosy 
 lips, but then suddenly drew back and defended herself vigor- 
 ously. 
 
 " Did I not tell you of my promise to my father ? No man 
 shall ever kiss me except the one who shall lead me to his tent 
 as his wife. It is well that father is coming. Farewell, sa-
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 
 
 339 
 
 rechsme, if I should not see you again ! Farewell ! and let 
 me keep my vow ! " 
 
 She gently pushes him back, and flies out of the tent to 
 meet her father. Sheik Arnhyn recognizes and hails her with 
 a shout of delight. 
 
 " Butheita, have you succeeded, have you guarded the 
 stranger well ? " 
 
 u I have taken good care of him ; come, father, and see ! " 
 She takes her father's arm, and, without looking at the man 
 who walks close behind him, draws the sheik quickly to the 
 tent. 
 
 But Mohammed, with a proud and grave expression of 
 countenance, advances to meet them. Butheita now hardlv 
 recognizes, in the haughty sarechsme, with his imperious bear- 
 ing, the stranger, who is no longer a stranger to her heart. 
 
 " Speak, sheik ! How dared you lead me away, a prisoner, 
 from my army ? Really, you were very presumptuous. Such 
 conduct is calculated to excite my just anger and indigna- 
 tion." 
 
 The shiek made a profound obeisance. 
 
 " I trust you will forgive me, sarechsme ; what I did was 
 done at the command of my master. There he comes ; he is 
 called Osman Bey Bardissi. He comes crowned with victory, 
 and will treat with you. Come, Butheita, what they have to 
 say to each other does not concern us, we have done our duty, 
 and I have performed what I promised. The Mameluke bey 
 has also kept his promise, and my men are already on the bat- 
 tle-field ; I, too, must speedily return, my child, for we are to 
 bring home costly spoils." 
 
 While walking with her to the tent, he tells her of the 
 splendid caftans, the golden vessels, the jewelled daggers, and 
 the costly arms, that he has already gathered from the field of 
 battle. 
 
 In the mean while the two men have approached each 
 other. Now they stand face to face, Osman Bey Bardissi, and 
 the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, and regard each other with a 
 long, gloomy look. Both, it seems, wish to avoid being the 
 first to speak a word of greeting. 
 
 Finally, Osman breaks the silence. "This, Mohammed
 
 340 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 All, is our third meeting. The first, you will recollect, was at 
 Cavalla. Two boys, both ambitious, addressed each other in 
 tones of mockery and derision. In the years that have since 
 passed, I have often thought of the boy with the eagle eyes and 
 the haughty, contemptuous smile. Our second meeting oc- 
 curred a few months since, after the massacre at Aboukir. 
 You were my enemy, and yet you acted as my friend. You 
 saved Osman Bey Bardissi's life. Then I said to you: ' I will 
 remember this, Mohammed Ali, and in me you have found a 
 friend for all time.' " 
 
 " Such were your words, Osman Bey Bardissi," replied Mo- 
 hammed, his voice tremulous with anger, " and now I have 
 received a proof of your friendship ! You have had me snared 
 like a wild beast, and abducted from my camp and my soldiers, 
 to become a laughing-stock for them and an object of derision 
 for your people." 
 
 Bardissi shook his head quietly. '' You are in error, Mo- 
 hammed Ali ; none of my men know what has occurred, nor 
 do I believe that yours do. No one shall ever learn, I swear it 
 by Allah, where the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, has passed 
 this night, or by whom he was abducted. No, no one shall 
 ever learn it ! You can rest assured, Sheik Arnhyn is not the 
 man to babble like a woman when he should hold his peace, 
 and Butheita is his obedient daughter. This matter shall be 
 kept to ourselves. We meet to-day for the third time, and do 
 you know why, Mohammed Ali ? I caused you to be abducted 
 because I promised you friendship. I did not wish to confront 
 you as an enemy; against my wish a bullet might have 
 chanced to -strike you ; and, I know not how it is, but I feel 
 drawn to you, I feel a desire to be your friend. I wish to fight 
 at your side, and not against you. W~ two, O Mohammed 
 we two, united could make our land happy, great, and free, I 
 feel assured. I read this in your countenance when we met 
 on the ship. A voice seemed to whisper in my heart : ' He 
 can assist you, he must be your friend ! ' Your eye glittered 
 as I have seen but one other glitter ; a proud consciousness of 
 power was expressed in your features, such as I have seen in 
 those of but one other man, and to this day I regret that he 
 was our enemy, and that he has left us."
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 
 
 " And who was this man ? " 
 
 " He was a French general. They called him Bonaparte, 
 and he was a great man. It seems to me you resemble him, 
 Mohammed Ali ; like him you seem to stand gazing out upon 
 the world, conscious of power and heroism, and resolved to 
 bring it into subjection, as he was, but could not. For, ob- 
 serve, this was his mistake : he assumed a hostile attitude to- 
 ward the Mamelukes, instead of seeking their friendship. And 
 this I now hope of you, Mohammed A li, that you will make 
 friends of the M_meluke~ nd not remain on the side of our 
 treacherous enemies the Turks. It does not beseem you. Your 
 soul is great, and your actions heroic ! Why are you with the 
 Turks ? It does not beseem you." 
 
 "It does not beseem me!" cried Mohammed excitedly; 
 " truly it does not beseem me " 
 
 " Be still, my friend, I pray you ! " said Bardissi, interrupt- 
 ing him. " Listen first to what I have to say. Do you know 
 whence I come ? Look at me ! Do you see these dark spots on 
 my clothing ? 'Tis blood, Mohammed Ali, human blood. It 
 splashed on me from many a wound ! Go thither, Mohammed 
 Ali ; go to the plain of Damanhour. The bodies of the dead 
 lie thick there the bodies of dead Turks, Mohammed Ali ! " 
 
 " And the bodies of many Mamelukes also, I should think," 
 rejoined Mohammed quickly. 
 
 Osman Bey shook his head slowly. "Not many! You are 
 in erro. ; , Mohammed Ali. We hurriedly counted them. 
 Three thousand Turks lie dead upon the battle-field of Daman- 
 hour; : our men, cf the Mamelukes, hardly sixty!" 
 
 " That ' impossible ! " cried Mohammed, in dismay. 
 
 "It seems impossible, yet it is the truth, Mohammed Ali," 
 replied Bardissi, drawing himself up proudly. " I tell you, 
 three thousand Turks and hardly sixty Mamelukes ; and ours 
 is the battle-field. Those of the Turks who were not shot 
 down or sabred have fled to bear to Cairo the disastrous intel- 
 ligence that eight hundred Mamelukes have vanquished over 
 three thousand Turks led by Youssouf Bey, the Jciaya of the 
 viceroy. The proud man is defeated, and may return to Cairo 
 with the miserable remnants of his magnificence to announce 
 his disgrace. I tell you, Mohammed, it was a wondrous
 
 342 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 battle ! Youssouf Bey had drawn up his army on the plain of 
 Damanhour, behind them their artillery. While we were form- 
 ing in front of them, their artillery began to thunder; it was 
 to carry death into our ranks, and it succeeded. Fearful was 
 the first shock ! I began to fear lest my men should flinch. 
 I called to them in a loud voice, and with them bore down 
 upon the enemy with the <=peed of the lightning, regardless of 
 the thundering artillery. But its discharges were murderous, 
 and I saw that it was impossible to advance farther in this 
 direction. We then turned, and, before the Turks could take 
 measures to prevent it, fell upon their unprotected left flank 
 and bore down upon their ranks. The first rank, surprised 
 and terrified by my sudden flank attack, gave way, and their 
 infantry was thrown into disorder. The blows of our ata- 
 ghans fell thick and fast. The enemy turned and fled in wild 
 disorder, we following them. Mohammed A.li, the slaughter 
 was dreadful ! Eight hundred Mamelukes vanquished over 
 three thousand Turks ! Sheik Arnhyn's Bedouins, who are 
 now on the field, can show you the rich spoils. Let them rob 
 the dead ; for me and mine, who scorn to do this, spoils enough 
 still remain ; we have captured all their artillery, and muni- 
 tions of war in abundance. ' It was a glorious day,' so say the 
 Mameluke beys. ' It was a disastrous day,' will the viceroy, 
 throned in the proud citadel at Cairo, lament. 
 
 " Do you now understand, O sarechsme, why I caused you 
 to be abducted from your camp by my friend Sheik Arnhyn ? 
 I did it partly on my own account, and partly out of friend- 
 ship for you. You look at me inquiringly ; you do not under- 
 stand ! I will explain. Intelligence had been brought to me 
 that, should Youssouf Bey be defeated, you were to march 
 rapidly to his assistance. I saw the messenger sent by him to 
 call you to his assistance; you would have come too late. 
 You could only have shared defeat had you come up with 
 your troops, exhausted by their march, and attacked the 
 Mamelukes, flushed with victory. They would have defeated 
 you, and therefore do I consider it an act of friendship to 
 have prevented your coming at all. Yet, I would not conceal 
 the truth. Truly, Osman Bey Bardissi loves the truth, and 
 therefore I tell you I also did it on my own account, and on
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 343 
 
 account of my Mamelukes. I well know what mettle your 
 other generals are made of ! From Youssouf Bey and Taher 
 Pacha the Mameluke Beys have nothing to fear ; I know 
 them, and know that they are poor soldiers; but of you, Mo- 
 hammed Ali, I have a different opinion. When I saw you on 
 the ship, I said to myself : k This man will become a hero ; woe 
 to us when he confronts us in battle, but joy if we can win 
 him to our side and make him our friend ! ' Therefore, I 
 entreat you, be our friend, Mohammed Ali. Abandon the 
 treacherous Turks, for treacherous they are ! We saw this at 
 Aboukir, and I think have aroused indignation in your gal- 
 lant heart to see them massacre so many of our noblest beys 
 through vile trickery and treachery. I can well understand 
 that you cannot admit this while you are a sarechsme of the 
 Turks ; yet, be one of us, Mohammed Ali. Confess to yourself 
 that the Turks are waging an unjust war, and that treachery 
 is their favorite weapon. It is my firm conviction that we 
 shall ultimately succeed in vanquishing and driving them 
 from the country ; but to do this we need strong men and 
 heroic hearts. I cannot consent to their possession of such a 
 man as yourself. Come to us, Mohammed Ali ! You shall be 
 our first and greatest ! What Mourad Bey was for us, that 
 shall Mohammed Ali be for the Mamelukes. We will bow 
 to your wisdom in humility ! we will obey all your com- 
 mands ! Be one of us, Mohammed Ali. Join us, and we will 
 vanquish the Turks and reoccupy Cairo! You shall be 
 enthroned in the citadel as our chieftain ; you shall rule over 
 Cairo and be our brother and comrade. Abandon the Turks ! 
 Now, Mohammed Ali, I have finished. Give me an answer ! " 
 
 His eager gaze was fastened on Mohammed's proud, tran- 
 quil countenance in breathless suspense. The latter mak- 
 ing no reply, Bardissi repeated, in tones of entreaty almost, 
 " Answer me, Mohammed Ali ! " 
 
 '' Do you really suppose I can answer you ?" said Moham- 
 jied, gently. " Look at me ; I wear the uniform of a Turkish 
 general, and am in the grand-sultan's, and, more immediately, 
 in Cousrouf Pacha, the viceroy's service. I am a soldier, who, 
 wearing his uniform, must ever be mindful that he has sworn 
 the oath of fidelity. Moreover, I am your prisoner. Do you
 
 344 MOHAMMED ALT AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 suppose it would beseem the soldier to treat with his enemy 
 against his commander-in-chief ? Would it, do you think, be- 
 come the prisoner to accept the proposals of him who for the 
 moment is his master ; would it not look as though the pris- 
 oner wished in this manner to purchase his freedom ? And 
 now answer me, Bardissi ! " 
 
 "This is my answer," said Bardissi, bowing his head with 
 a smile : " You are free, and no longer a prisoner. You were 
 entrapped, and brought here, because I wished to speak with 
 you. This I have done, and now you are free. And now 
 your decision, if you please ! " 
 
 " Osman Bey Bardissi is far too great a hero, and far too 
 brave a soldier and honorable man, not to know what emotions 
 agitate my soul. See, I wear a general's uniform, and my 
 army corps is awaiting me ! You cannot suppose that I will 
 abandon them, or incite them to treason ! As yet, I serve the 
 viceroy alone," he continued in a lower voice, " and, as yet, I 
 do not know that I can depend entirely on their fidelity." 
 
 ''However, you do not say 'no' to my proposals?" said 
 Bardissi. 
 
 " I say wait, Bardissi ! He who wishes to attain fortune 
 must not grasp at it with too quick a hand. He may catch 
 hold of a corner of its mantle, but fortune itself might escape 
 him. Only he who is calm and collected can depend on secur- 
 ing h^ Bardissi. 'Therefore, I say, wait! Yet, this will I say, 
 in addition," continued he, his countenance assuming a milder 
 expression, " Give me your hand before we part. It is the 
 hand of a brave man, and I am glad to press it in my own." 
 
 Bardissi joyously laid his broad, sinewy hand in Moham- 
 med's, and grasped it firmly. 
 
 "I repeat it, Bardissi, wait. In eight days you shall have 
 an answer from me. Perhaps it will be communicated to you 
 through common report perhaps secretly. Therefore, name 
 some one through whom I can communicate with you." 
 
 Bardissi made no answer, but glanced uneasily at Moham- 
 med. The latter smiled. 
 
 "You are suspicious; you have already experienced too 
 much treachery from your enemies not to fear Mohammed 
 Ali might prove like the rest. I require no answer. In case
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 345 
 
 of necessity, I will send you an answer through Mourad's 
 widow, Sitta Nefysseh." 
 
 " She is our mistress, and we all reverence and obey her as 
 we should, the widow of our great chieftain." 
 
 ' I know you all honor and love her ! " said Mohammed, 
 with a slight smile. " May I now depart ? " 
 
 Bardissi inclined his head. " You are free ! I shall ride 
 on in advance, and deprive myself of the pleasure of accom- 
 panying you through the desert. We might be seen together r 
 and suspicion excited against you. I ride in that direction. 
 The dromedary will bear you back to your camp by a shorter 
 route across the desert. She who brought you here will also 
 accompany you back. She knows the way, and is discreet 
 and cautious, like her father. My horse and servants await 
 me behind that hill. And now let us part ! " 
 
 " Let us part ! " repeated Mohammed, extending his hand 
 for a parting grasp. 
 
 " I will accompany you to the tent," said Bardissi, " and 
 give orders to have the dromedary saddled for you while you 
 are strengthening yourself for the ride." 
 
 They walked to the tent side by side, and Bardissi called 
 the sheik, and gave him his instructions. 
 
 Mohammed entered the tent. No one was there. He 
 walked into the inner apartment, and so noiselessly that his 
 step was not heard by her who stood behind the partition, by 
 Butheita. She stood there, her head bowed down, and her 
 gaze fixed on the spot where she had broken bread with Mo- 
 hammed. Now, hearing her name murmured behind her, 
 she started and turned around. He observed that her manner 
 was sad, and that the smile had departed from her lips. 
 
 "You are sad, Butheita," whispered he, approaching 
 her. 
 
 She cast down her eyes before his glance. " You are 
 going away," said she. " Father is already saddling the 
 dromedary, and you are about to leave us." 
 
 " I must go," said he, gently. " Duty calls me away, while 
 love would gladly hold me back. But I am a man, and must 
 listen to the voice of duty only. They say you are to accom- 
 pany, and show me the way ? " 
 23
 
 346 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 She shook her head resolutely. " I beg you, say that you 
 do not wish it, that you desire my father to accompany 
 you." 
 
 " And why should I do so ? " asked he, gazing searchingly 
 into her countenance. " Do you hate me so that you are un- 
 willing to pass an hour in my company ? Did I conduct my- 
 self unbecomingly while we were together in the palanquin 
 this morning ? Why will you not accord me the happiness of 
 riding across the desert with you again ? Why do you hate 
 me?" 
 
 She remained silent for a while, and then slowly shook her 
 head. '' No, it is not that ; it is something quite different. It 
 pains me to see you leave. This morning, I could ride with 
 you across the desert ; then I did not know you, and did not 
 fear you." 
 
 " And now you are afraid of me ? " said he, gazing in her 
 eyes intently. 
 
 " No, not afraid of you, but afraid of myself,'' said she, in a 
 low voice. u I am afraid I might love you ; and that may not 
 be," cried she, in a firmer tone. ; ' You are a great and distin- 
 guished man, and would laugh at the poor Bedouin child if 
 she should regard you otherwise than as a great sarechsme, who 
 had condescended to honor her father's tent by accepting his 
 daughter's hospitality. I had best not ride with you. And I 
 have already told father so." 
 
 '' And the reason, too, Butheita ? " said he, smiling. 
 
 " No, sarechsme ! I told father I was weary with my long 
 ride. He loves me dearly, and, although he had intended re- 
 turning with the bey to collect the spoils from the field, he is, 
 nevertheless, ready to accompanv you if you will permit 
 him." 
 
 " I am to permit you to cause me pain, and deny myself a 
 great happiness, Butheita. Yet, I understand you, and must 
 say that I rejoice to see you act as you do. I rejoice in you. 
 my star-eyed desert queen ! Be assured. Mohammed Ali will 
 never forget you. And now, tell me, will you not quite for- 
 get me either ? " 
 
 " No, that I will not, sarechsme." 
 
 "Will you also be mindful of your promise to your father
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 34.7 
 
 to allow him only to kiss you, who shall one day lead you to 
 his home ? " 
 
 " I shall ever be mindful of this promise." 
 
 ' k Then, Butheita, then will I kiss you," cried he, and with 
 passionate violence he clasped her in his arms, and pressed a 
 kiss on her lips. He then turned and left the tent. 
 
 Butheita sank down upon the mat, and with outstretched 
 arms she knelt there, motionless, a statue of ecstasy, of blissful 
 love. 
 
 Mohammed stepped out before the tent, and beckoned to 
 the sheik to approach. 
 
 " I beg that you will accompany me, sheik ; it will be too 
 fatiguing for your daughter to take this ride the second time." 
 
 " Gladly, master ; she has already told me so herself, and I 
 am ready," said he, commanding the dromedary to kneel 
 down. Mohammed sprang into the palanquin, and the sheik 
 followed him. 
 
 " Farewell, Butheita," he cried. She did not answer ; she 
 did not wish to go out, as he might see her tears, and her 
 father, too, might observe them. She therefore remained 
 silent. She had drawn the curtain over the entrance to the 
 inner apartment, and lay on the mat weeping : weeping and 
 laughing at the same time, for joy and pain ecstasy and pain 
 were contending for victory in her heart. " He is gone, gone ! 
 and yet he is ever with me." 
 
 The dromedary flew over the desert still more swiftly than 
 in the morning, his feet hardly touching the ground ; clouds 
 of sand were whirled aloft, and enveloped the animal and the 
 riders as with a thick veil. No one saw them, and, had any 
 one seen them, he could not have told who they were. 
 
 Arrived at the boundary line of the desert, where two 
 horses awaited them, the sheik halted. Having dismounted 
 with Mohammed, he addressed a few loud words to the drome- 
 dary ; it turned, and flew homeward across the desert. 
 
 " It knows the way," said the sheik, smiling. " It will re- 
 turn alone to Butheita." 
 
 They mounted the horses, and rode on swiftly through 
 meadows, and palm and sycamore groves. 
 
 The sheik now drew rein. " Do you see that black line
 
 348 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 standing out against the evening sky ? That is your camp. 
 If you desire it, I will accompany you farther. It rests with 
 you to decide." 
 
 '' I will ride on alone, sheik. Farewell, and accept this for 
 your hospitality." 
 
 He held out to the sheik a purse filled with gold-pieces. 
 The latter proudly rejected it. 
 
 " With one breath you say things that do not agree with 
 each other. You wish to pay me, and yet you say you have 
 enjoyed my hospitality. The guest does not pay, unless it be 
 with love and friendship. If you pay me in that way, I shall 
 rejoice, and Butheita also, I know." 
 
 " O sheik, I thank you both for your hospitality, and will 
 love you and hold you in good remembrance. Farewell, 
 sheik ! " 
 
 He pressed his knees to his horse's flanks and rode off in a 
 rapid gallop. Evening had already sunk down when he ap- 
 proached the plain where his soldiers lay encamped. He dis- 
 mounted, and left his horse to return alone. He then glided 
 stealthily to the rear of his tent, and, raising the canvas, 
 slipped in. No one was in this apartment where his couch lay, 
 but in the first one he heard loud voices. His officers were 
 speaking of him. They were making anxious inquiries and 
 conjectures as to where the general might be, and were con- 
 sidering whether they should make further search for him or 
 break up camp and return to Cairo. They were the voices of 
 his him bashis and boulouk bashis. Smiling, he listened for 
 a time to their conversation. He then drew back the curtain 
 and stepped into the outer apartment. A joyous shout greeted 
 his entrance. They eagerly rushed forward, and anxiously 
 inquired where he had been, the meaning of his absence, and 
 if any evil had befallen him. 
 
 He gazed at them haughtily. 
 
 " Am I, the general, to be called to account by you, my 
 officers ? " 
 
 They instantly ceased speaking, and saluted him with pro- 
 found obeisance. 
 
 " I know," continued he, in milder tones, " that sympathy 
 for me prompted your inquiries, and will therefore tell you
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 
 
 where I have been. I rode last night, entirely alone, to Da- 
 manhour, where I knew Youssouf Bey lay with his men. I 
 wished to learn if we could reach them in time, and therefore 
 rode with the wings of the wind. When I reached their 
 camp, the battle had already begun. It was too late to march 
 to Youssouf Bey's assistance. I therefore did what I could, 
 drew my sword and fought in the ranks as a common soldier. 
 The day was adverse ; the Turkish army lies defeated on the 
 plain of Damanhour ! Now let us remain here and wait. If 
 the victors, the Mameluke beys, feel disposed to try their for- 
 tune in another battle, by Allah they shall find us ready to re- 
 ceive them ! But, if they do not show themselves by to-mor- 
 row, we will turn and march back to Cairo. Now go and an- 
 nounce to the soldiers what has taken place." 
 
 ' They bowed profoundly, and the deference and silence 
 with which they now left the tent were in marked contrast 
 with their previous noisy behavior. The general knew how 
 to impress them with a sense of his superiority ; they all rec- 
 ognized in him a great man, and felt his iron hand on their 
 necks. All now grows still in the camp. The soldiers retire 
 to rest, and Mohammed also sinks down on his mat to repose,, 
 and, if possible, to sleep after so much fatigue and excitement. 
 But sleep refused to come at his bidding. He arose and 
 walked to and fro in his tent for a long time. At first he was 
 merely the loving man, and beheld only Butheita's counte- 
 nance ; but the hero in him soon gained the upper hand. 
 Mohammed profoundly considered Osman Bey's words, and 
 how he must shape his future. His keen vision had observed 
 and made him acquainted with the men who surrounded him t 
 and with the relations to which he must now either conform 
 or against which he must now rise in arms. He had been in 
 a state of doubt and hesitation all along ; his future was en- 
 veloped in a thick veil, and he was not aware what shape his 
 destiny was to take ; yet he had closely observed all. He had 
 seen that poor Egypt was a plaything of ambition, of rapacity ^ 
 of intrigue a prey for all. Nowhere in the midst of this reign 
 of intrigue and passion had he seen law and justice prevail. 
 He saw only a province trodden under foot, a bleeding land, 
 that must perish in its citizens, unless a deliverer should come
 
 350 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 who knew how to bind up and heal its wounds. Could he be 
 its deliverer ? Was it his mission to raise up the down-trod- 
 den people from the dust, to erect for himself a throne upon 
 the ground that smoked with the blood of so many victims ? 
 Was this his mission, and was there a way that would lead 
 him up the steep ascent to the throne ? All this he considered 
 earnestly and profoundly throughout the entire night, and, 
 when the rising sun had dispelled the clouds of the morning, 
 it was clear, too, in his soul. He saw the way he must go to 
 reach his goal. 
 
 " And this way I will go," said he to himself, in low tones. 
 " I will consider nothing but my interest and my aim. I will 
 avail myself of all means that are useful. Wise, shrewd, 
 cautious, using every thing, and recoiling from nothing, let 
 this be the motto of my immediate future : ' To overthrow 
 the enemy by rebellion were unwise ; he who usurps another's 
 place is always a rebel, and deserving of punishment.' I must 
 be called to the throne by the people themselves, then I shall 
 be a legitimate ruler. To attain this be your task, Mohammed 
 Ali. Equip yourself and collect your energies. Be the lion 
 and the tiger, the serpent and the hero : in this way only can 
 you accomplish your end " 
 
 Early on the following morning the videttes announced to 
 the sarechsme that no trace of the enemy was anywhere to be 
 seen. 
 
 " Then we shall return to Cairo," said the sarechsme to his 
 bim bashis ; "give orders to prepare to march." 
 
 The loud shouts of joy that resounded without announced 
 to the sarechsme that the soldiers were well pleased to return 
 home. " I am, too 1 " said he to himself, smiling. " I am well 
 pleased that we are not compelled to confront the Mamelukes ! 
 Perhaps we shall soon be fighting side by side ! " 
 
 In the mean while intelligence of the defeat of the Turkish 
 army had reached Cairo. Many had heard it with intense 
 satisfaction, many with sorrow, according to whether they 
 were friends or enemies of the viceroy. 
 
 Yet, when Mohammed Ali's troops marched through the 
 streets, they were greeted with shouts of joy. They returned, 
 as the sarechsme had ordered, quietly to their barracks.
 
 THE AGREEMENT. 
 
 Mohammed All also repaired to his house to rest and to 
 wait. 
 
 In the mean while the remnant of the defeated army had 
 also returned to Cairo ; and Youssouf Bey, who had succeeded 
 in making his escape from the slaughter, repaired, at the very 
 hour when Mohammed entered the city with his troops to the 
 citadel, to the viceroy. With furious despair and tears of 
 rage, he told the story of his terrible defeat, thinking by this, 
 display of anguish to wash his hands of the disgrace of having 
 been vanquished with three thousand Turks by eight hundred 
 Mamelukes ! But, as though the number of his troops ought 
 not to have been sufficient to insure victory over the small 
 force of the Mamelukes, he sought to throw the blame on 
 others. 
 
 " I was betrayed betrayed ! Mohammed Ali and Taher 
 Pacha are to blame for this disaster. They should have come 
 to my assistance, but they left me to shift for myself. That is 
 infamous conduct ! Here, before your throne, I accuse of 
 treason, above all, Mohammed Ali, and also Taher Pacha ! 
 They knew I was in danger : had they come up, I should not 
 have lost the battle ; but they did not come, because they de- 
 sired my downfall, in order that they might ascend to the 
 height of your favor over my neck ! They are both traitors. 
 I entreat you to cause searching inquiries to be made, and to 
 hold to a strict accountability those who so shamefully de- 
 serted me." 
 
 Cousrouf Pacha felt deeply touched by the anguish and 
 despair of his favorite, and perhaps he also felt a foreboding 
 rise in his heart that Mohammed Ali was still his enemy, and 
 was seeking revenge for his long-since-destroyed happiness. 
 
 "You are right, Youssouf Bey. I promise you strict in- 
 vestigation shall be made, and woe to them if they fail to 
 justify themselves ! " 
 
 A messenger entered to announce to the viceroy that Mo- 
 hammed Ali had returned to Cairo with his troops. The 
 viceroy immediately dispatched a messenger to the sarechsme, 
 ordering him to come up to the citadel at once, and without 
 any delay whatever, to render account to the viceroy of his 
 action.
 
 352 MOHAMMED ALI AND IIIS HOUSE. 
 
 Mohammed heard the command with perfect composure. 
 " Tell the viceroy that I will come up to the citadel to-mor- 
 row, in the broad light of day, with my soldiers. My weary 
 troops must rest to-night, and without them I do not desire to 
 appear before your master. Therefore, to-morrow morning, 
 rest assured that I shall come.'' 
 
 As he had said, in the broad light of day, and accompanied 
 by his soldiers, the sarechsme repaired to the citadel. An 
 ominous cry resounded from their lips as they stood before 
 the gateway, and this cry was heard in the apartment of the 
 viceroy. 
 
 " We demand our pay ! We want bread, we want money ! " 
 This was the soldiers' cry. Now, surrounded by his him bashis 
 and boulouk bashis, the sarechsme entered the apartment o f 
 the viceroy, Cousrouf Pacha, who was awaiting him. In uttjr 
 disregard of deference and usage, the general did not wait to 
 be addressed by the viceroy. With a military greeting, he 
 stepped forward and said, in a loud voice : 
 
 " As you hear, highness, your troops have come to demand 
 of you that to which they have assuredly long been entitled 
 they have come to demand their pay ! " 
 
 " I see," said Cousrouf, in low tones, casting a furtive glance 
 of hatred at Mohammed " I see that you are still the insolent 
 boy of Ca valla ! " 
 
 " I believe," replied Mohammed, also speaking in subdued 
 tones " I believe we are both what we then were ; and I shall 
 prove it to you ! " 
 
 He stepped back. No one had heard the brief conversation 
 that passed between them, but every one saw Cousrouf 's cheek 
 grow pale, and his eye sparkle with anger. 
 
 " I will send you an answer," said he, after a pause. <l Re- 
 turn to your house, and order the soldiers to return to their 
 barracks. My defterdar will bring you an answer." 
 
 He turned and left the apartment. 
 
 " Well, for this time we will be patient and wait," said Mo- 
 hammed, addressing his officers. 
 
 His voice was threatening, and his officers understood that 
 their general was prepared to resort to extreme measures, and 
 they rejoiced over it, for the viceroy was always haughty and
 
 THE REVOLT. 353 
 
 overbearing in his manner toward them, and they all hated 
 him. They would all have been pleased to see their bold gen- 
 eral revolt against him. 
 
 " We will wait," they whispered to each other " we will 
 wait ! What our sarechsme does, we will do also ! " 
 
 They returned, in obedience to his command, to their quar- 
 ters and barracks. 
 
 The sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, a peculiar smile on his lips, 
 also returned to his palace. 
 
 " The decisive hour approaches ! Cousrouf Pacha shall be 
 convinced that I, as he says, am still the same Mohammed Ali 
 I was at Cavalla ! Yes, still the same, and still determined to 
 have revenge 1 " 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE REVOLT. 
 
 To have gained a week is to have gained a great deal. 
 
 Within this time the viceroy will succeed in replenishing 
 his coffers. His defterdar is very skillful in the art of getting 
 money, and who should understand the art if not the minister 
 of finance ? He will find means to collect from the ulemas, 
 from the rich sheiks, and from the merchants, money enough 
 to quiet his rebellious troops. A week is a long period, and he 
 will find means to satisfy them all. 
 
 But, after a few days, the terrible intelligence reaches 
 Cousrouf Pacha : Taher Pacha is defeated ; the stronghold 
 Migne has been captured by the Mameluke beys. Taher 
 Pacha is defeated, and is return ing with his army-corps to 
 Cairo ! 
 
 "He shall not come, he must not come ! " cried the viceroy, 
 angrily. " No, he must not come ; as it is, we have rebellious 
 soldiers enough here now. They would unite with Taher's 
 troops, and clamor for pay again. And our coffers are empty. 
 Send messengers to meet the advancing troops, with instruc- 
 tions to General Taher to march with his corps to Tantah, and 
 there await further orders. In any case, I forbid him to re-
 
 354 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 turn here to Cairo. Is my capital to be made a camp ? Is it 
 merely an immense barrack in which these insolent fellows 
 are to puff themselves up and do violence to all honest and 
 respectable people ? It is enough to have to tolerate Moham- 
 med Ali and his men here. Taher Pacha shall not unite with 
 them. Quick, dispatch the messengers at once ! " 
 
 The messengers, in accordance with the viceroy's instruc- 
 tions, hastened forth in the direction from which Taher 
 must come. But the messengers did not meet him. He 
 did not come by the expected route. He had taken an- 
 other a secret messenger having come to him with this 
 warning : 
 
 *' Hasten forward, Taher you are to be kept at a distance 
 from the capitol ! It is intended to withhold their pay from 
 your soldiers ! " 
 
 He did not know from whom this messenger came, but he 
 believed him. Resolved not to remain where a message from 
 the viceroy could reach him, Taher Pacha took another road, 
 and, before another messenger could reach him, Taher entered 
 Cairo with his army. The uproar in the streets, the shouting 
 of the soldiers as they greeted their friends, announced to the 
 viceroy what had taken place. And in great wrath he learned 
 from the defterdar, who came running to the viceroy in de- 
 spair, that his fears were only too well founded. 
 
 Yes, it was as he expected. The soldiers had not gone to their 
 barracks ; Taher had not come to seek repose in his house, but 
 to demand his and his soldiers' pay. " We are in rags, and 
 starving ; we need shoes and clothes. Give us our pay, that 
 we may satisfy our hunger and clothe ourselves ! " 
 
 " But how am I to pay them ? " said the defterdar, addressing 
 the viceroy in anxious tones. " Our coffers are empty, and 
 all resources exhausted. I know not what to do or where to 
 turn." 
 
 The viceroy sat gazing at him gloomily. Suddenly a 
 thought seemed to occur to him ; his countenance brightened. 
 " Mohammed Ali is shrewd and fertile in resources. We 
 must apply to him. He will help us out of our difficulty. He 
 is thoughtful, cool, and resolute. True, he assumed a hostile 
 attitude toward me a few days ago, but he must be reconciled.
 
 THE REVOLT. 355 
 
 He must be prevented from uniting with Taher. The two 
 united would be a fearful combination against me. " 
 
 He instructs the defterdar to go in person to Mohammed 
 Ali to request him to come to the viceroy. '' We cannot pay 
 the troops, but we can find enough to pay the general's 
 salary." 
 
 Cousrouf Pacha takes from his own private funds ten 
 purses of gold-pieces. He carries them himself to the apart- 
 ment in which he intends to receive the sarechsme. 
 
 In the mean while the minister of finance had, in accord- 
 ance with the viceroy's instructions, repaired with great haste 
 to the palace in which the sarechsme resided. A body of Al- 
 banian soldiers were encamped about the palace. They called 
 themselves the body-guard of the sarechsme. The heart of the 
 finance minister throbbed with dismay when he beheld their 
 daring, resolute faces. 
 
 " If this is the sarechsme's body-guard, then woe to the 
 viceroy ! " said he to himself, as he ascended the stairway 
 that led to the general's apartment. With a trembling voice 
 and humble demeanor, he delivered the viceroy's message to 
 the general. 
 
 ' He begs you to come to him. He wishes to be reconciled 
 to you ; he will himself hand you the arrearages of pay. But 
 I entreat you, come without your great suite it might be 
 wrongly interpreted. I mean well with you ; I am your 
 friend. Do not come with your body-guard, sarechsme." 
 
 " We two should understand each other better," replied 
 Mohammed, smiling derisively. " You tremble for me. I 
 thank you, but see, I am not trembling at all myself. He 
 who pursues an honest course and is faithful to his master and 
 his service, has no occasion to tremble. This you shall see, 
 for I intend to go to the viceroy entirely alone. Only my 
 men shall at least know where I have gone, that is all. 
 Come ! " 
 
 With a haughty smile, the defterdar following, he de- 
 scended the broad stairway of his palace, and cordially greeted 
 the soldiers standing about the gateway, who received him 
 with shouts of joy. 
 
 "Be patient, my friends, I entreat you, be patient, and
 
 356 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 await my return. I will return in an hour ; wait here for 
 me that long. Should I not return by that time, seek me." 
 
 The defterdar, who hears every word of this, murmurs to 
 himself : " It will be necessary to acquaint his highness with 
 this, that he may be on his guard, and not detain the sa- 
 rechsme in his fortress too long. The consequences might be 
 dangerous." 
 
 In humble terms he begs to be permitted to hasten in ad- 
 vance to announce his coming to the viceroy. The sarechsme 
 assents with a gracious inclination of the head, and smiles be- 
 nignantly on the finance minister. 
 
 "We understand each other right well, my good defter- 
 dar. You are right ; go in advance, and announce me to the 
 viceroy." 
 
 He waited a short time in the court-yard, conversing with 
 the soldiers who gathered around him to complain of their 
 wrongs. 
 
 "I am going up to the citadel to the viceroy, in your 
 interests. Wait patiently for an entire hour," repeated Mo- 
 hammed. 
 
 He then mounts his horse and rides up to the citadel. The 
 defterdar has hardly had time to convey the warning to the 
 viceroy : 
 
 "Do not detain him here too long, highness. If he re- 
 mains here longer than an hour, his soldiers will come up 
 here after him in open revolt. Taher's troops have not gone 
 to their barracks, and are only awaiting the signal to join 
 them." 
 
 Cousrouf nodded his assent, and muttered to himself : " I 
 was wrong in not treading this viper under foot in Cavalla ; 
 now it intends to bite me I feel it, it intends to bite me ; but 
 it shall not. I will draw its fangs." 
 
 His Nubian slave now enters and announces to his master 
 that the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali. stands without, awaiting 
 his pleasure. Cousrouf's countenance quickly assumes a 
 friendly expression. 
 
 " Leave me, defterdar, and await me in the next room. I 
 shall not detain the sarechsme long." 
 
 The defterdar withdrew, and the Nubian slave opened the
 
 THE REVOLT. 357 
 
 door to admit the general. With a military greeting, Mo- 
 hammed Ali entered, and advanced toward the viceroy, who, 
 on this occasion, received him standing, and not indolently 
 reclining on his cushions, as was his habit ; he even stepped 
 forward to meet him, extending his hand, and saluting more 
 cordially than usual. 
 
 " Sarechsme, when we last met, it was in anger. This I 
 have deeply regretted, for you know what I think of you." 
 
 " Yes, highness, I know what you think of me," replied 
 Mohammed, quietly. 
 
 The viceroy saw the derisive smile that played about his 
 lips. 
 
 " I think well of you, Mohammed ! I expect great things 
 of you, and know that you are the truest and most devoted of 
 my servants." 
 
 Mohammed looked up at him with a strange, inquiring 
 glance. " Of your servants, highness ? I did not know that 
 I was one of them. I am devoted to you, as the general of 
 the viceroy's troops should be, yet both of us are the servants 
 of our master, the grand-sultan, at Stamboul." 
 
 '' You are right, both of us are servants, the grand-sultan 
 is master of us both ; hut I am his representative here, and it 
 therefore follows that the proud sarechsme need not blush 
 when I call him my faithful servant, as I stand for him in the 
 place of the grand-sultan. And it is because you recognize in 
 me his representative, and because you have sworn to serve 
 him faithfully, that I have such confidence in your devotion 
 to me." 
 
 " Highness, I am faithful to my oath, faithful to the grand- 
 sultan, and faithful to you. I deeply regret that discord has 
 arisen between you and me, ever devoted to you as I am. But 
 let us not speak of this. I suppose you have called me on ac- 
 count of my troops. They have long received no pay ; they 
 are without food, and their clothes are in rags. They need 
 and demand their pay. I, as their protector and general, 
 must insist on your compliance with their just demand." 
 
 " The week within which I promised to pay them has not 
 yet elapsed, four days still remain," said Cousrouf, suppressing 
 his rage with difficulty ; " therefore wait for your soldiers 1
 
 358 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 pay, but you, Mohammed, you shall not wait. See how I 
 honor and esteem you ! There lie ten purses of gold-pieces, 
 that is your salary. I joyously give it you out of my own 
 private funds. Take your pay, my sarechsme ! " 
 
 He pointed to a little marble table, on which the ten purses, 
 through whose meshes the gold-pieces glittered, were laid in a 
 row. 
 
 " I accept them, highness. It is my salary, and I am justly 
 entitled to it. I accept them, and, though you only gave me 
 my due, I nevertheless thank you for having done so." 
 
 "And you are now reconciled, Mohammed Ali, and no 
 longer angry? " said Cousrouf, in flattering tones. 
 
 Mohammed bowed profoundly. 
 
 " How could I presume to be angry with your gracious 
 highness ? You know my devotion to you, Cousrouf." 
 
 " Prove it ! Give me your advice. You know the coun- 
 try, you know the city ; your eye is quick, and you observe 
 much. I know Mohammed Ali never walks indolently 
 through the streets ; his eye sees more than other eyes, his 
 ear hears more than other ears ; he knows far more than any 
 of my servants. O Mohammed, if many of them were like 
 you, I need not be anxious and pass sleepless nights. But you, 
 Mohammed, are wise and shrewd, and have much experience 
 and knowledge of the world. Advise me, sarechsme, as 
 to the means of raising money. I myself, I confess, am 
 at a loss to devise new means of replenishing my empty 
 coffers." 
 
 " I thank you for the high honor you do me," replied Mo- 
 hammed. " Advise you, the wise and experienced statesman ! 
 How flattering such a privilege to me ! Yet, unfortunately, I 
 must confess that I know not what to advise. But," he sud- 
 denly added, " one thing occurs to me. You have taxed the 
 merchants, you have taken money from the ulemas, you have 
 exacted it from the sheiks ; but one thing you have forgotten 
 to tax the women, highness ! " 
 
 " The women ! " said Cousrouf, recoiling a step. " How 
 could I tax the women ? What women ? " 
 
 " The wives of the Mameluke beys ! M replied Mohammed. 
 " You were gracious enough, highness, to permit these ladies
 
 THE REVOLT. 359 
 
 to remain here in their palaces, in which they were accustomed 
 to live like princesses." 
 
 " I gave my word, Mohammed Ali, that the wives of the 
 Mameluke beys should remain here, and that they should not 
 he molested. I gave my word. I did it because I knew that 
 the people would suffer if the rich ladies, whose splendid house- 
 holds give employment and food to so many people, should 
 be banished from the city. I did it for this reason, and must 
 now keep my word." 
 
 " And they shall remain here unmolested, highness. Their 
 liberty is not to be curtailed, neither is any harm to be done to 
 their persons. But they must yield to necessity, and sur- 
 render some of their treasure. Mourad Bey's widow alone is 
 very rich." 
 
 " Rich and courted by all the world ! " cried Cousroui 
 Pacha. " All Cairo is devoted to her ! She is honored like a 
 saint almost." 
 
 " Because she is rich," replied Mohammed, quietly. " The 
 rich are always honored ; the world falls down and worships 
 them ; but let them become poor, and the world drags them 
 into the dust, and thus avenges itself for its former humilia- 
 tion. Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad's widow, is rich. Her apart- 
 ments, I am told, glitter with golden dishes and vases, gold 
 and silver coins are piled up in closets, and whole chests are 
 filled with jewelry and precious stones of every description, 
 brought home by Mourad from his wars." 
 
 The viceroy's eyes sparkled. 
 
 " It would certainly be desirable to get possession of some 
 of this treasure, yet we cannot become robbers. If we could 
 do so by lawful means, it would be well. Tell me of some 
 such means, Mohammed Ali." 
 
 "I know of no such means, highness," said Mohammed, 
 shrugging his shoulders. " I only know that Sitta Nefysseh, 
 as it is said, has a secret understanding with the beys, the com- 
 rades of her deceased husband. As I understand it, you only 
 promised the wives of the Mamelukes permission to remain 
 he^e, and protection under the condition that they were to ab- 
 stain from all intercourse with the Mameluke beys. Yet it is 
 known that Osman Bardissi and L'Elfi Bey, the two Mame-
 
 360 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 luke chieftains, were not long since in Cairo, and that they 
 paid the Sitta a visit. They both love her. They adore her, 
 and defy every danger in order to see her. Of this I am cer- 
 tain, highness." 
 
 " If this is true," cried Cousrouf, " I have some pretext for 
 calling her to account." 
 
 " And true it is, I assure you," replied Mohammed. " I 
 myself saw Bardissi as he stepped out of the back gate of the 
 park and mounted his horse, and a short time before I saw 
 L'Elfi. Perhaps they had both come for money for the pay- 
 ment of their troops." 
 
 " I well know, myself," said Cousrouf, " that Mourad's 
 widow is very rich, and generous to her friends. I will see 
 her this very day, and this very day shall she be called to ac- 
 count." 
 
 " But by whom ? " asked Mohammed, quickly. " The cadi 
 and the sheik will not answer ; for they, like all Cairo, love 
 Sitta Nefysseh." 
 
 " Then I will call her to account myself ! " cried Cousrouf, 
 in resolute tones. 
 
 " But have you proofs of her guilt ? " asked Mohammed. 
 " Sitta Nefysseh is wise, and knows how to defend herself. 
 Therefore proofs, and not the accusation only, are needed. " 
 
 " I shall secure proofs ! When we are determined to ac- 
 cuse any one, proofs are never wanting. Else of what use 
 were our clerks and police ? And now you may go, sarechsme. 
 I thank you for your advice, and will quickly proceed to raise 
 money from the Sitta before she suspects any thing. I thank 
 you once more for your advice, Mohammed, and I shall al- 
 ways remember that you are the shrewdest and most faithful 
 of all those who surround me you perceive, I no longer say, 
 of my servants. Let me say, as I most gladly do, Mohammed 
 Ali let me say, the most faithful of my friends ! Does that 
 please you ? " 
 
 Mohammed replied with a profound bow only, and then 
 silently withdrew. 
 
 The hour had not yet passed, and his soldiers waited peace- 
 ably, as he had commanded them. The Nubian slave of /he 
 viceroy followed his horse, carrying the ten purses of gold-
 
 THE REVOLT. 361 
 
 pieces. The general dismounted at the door of the palace, and 
 waited till the slave had come up and taken the golden treas- 
 ure into his house. Mohammed then went to the grand hall 
 and sent word down by a servant, that a deputation of twenty- 
 two of his men were to come up to him. The sarechsme re- 
 ceived them standing beside a table, on which lay the ten 
 purses of gold-pieces. He greeted them cordially. 
 
 " I saw the viceroy in your behalf, and begged for your 
 pay. I was told that the week had not yet expired, and that 
 you should wait. The viceroy, however, my soldiers, paid me 
 the salary due me. They had forgotten to pay my salary ever 
 since I have been in Egypt ; it has therefore now become a 
 considerable sum. I have received ten purses of gold, and I 
 am really in need of this money to meet my household ex- 
 penses. But who knows when you will receive your pay? We 
 all share danger and want together, however ; therefore let us 
 also share the good things of this world together. Five purses 
 I will keep for myself, five purses belong to my soldiers. My 
 housekeeper will go down into the court-yard with you, and 
 distribute the money among you. I give it, not as your pay, 
 but as a token of my friendship and satisfaction." 
 
 " Long live our general ! " shouted the men ; and they 
 rushed forward, fell on their knees, and kissed his garments. 
 He bade them rise, called his housekeeper, and gave him the 
 five purses. The latter then went down with the soldiers to 
 the court-yard. Mohammed followed them with his eyes, his 
 countenance lighted up with a peculiar smile : 
 
 " Now they are mine ! With the money I gave them, I 
 have bought their souls ! Yes, they are mine ! The seed I 
 have sown is ripening. O Cousrouf, only follow my advice ! 
 Insult the one woman who is above all honored and esteemed 
 in Cairo, the one before whom all bow in reverence insult 
 her, that the harvest-day of my revenge may soon come ! 
 But one thing still remains to be done : Sitta Nefysseh must 
 be warned." 
 
 He stealthily stepped out into the garden through the side- 
 gate. Unseen by his soldiers he hastily crossed the park, and, 
 opening a small door in the high wall that surrounded it, 
 stepped out into the street. 
 24
 
 362 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 It was silent and deserted. No one saw the cautious sa- 
 rechsme, closely enveloped in his mantle, wend his way hastily 
 through the narrow alleys to a little house that stood alone in 
 the outskirts of the city. He crossed the threshold without 
 meeting any one. All was still in the dark, narrow passage. 
 He opened the door of the chamber. On a mat sat an old 
 woman, weaving woolen cloth. 
 
 " Are you the mother of Kachef Youssouf ? " asked the 
 sarechsme. 
 
 She turned around. " Yes, I am. You have not come to 
 arrest my son ? He has not gone out to battle, he remains in 
 Cairo, and is the faithful servant of his gracious mistress, Sitta 
 Nef ysseh. " 
 
 " That I know. I have not come on a hostile errand, but 
 merely to speak to him. Where is he ? " 
 
 " Where he always is, master, with his gracious mistress. 
 If you wish it, I will call him ; a door opens from this house 
 into Sitta Nefysseh's park, and I know where my son is to be 
 found." 
 
 "Then call him quickly." 
 
 The old woman hastened away. In a short time she re- 
 turned with her son Youssouf. 
 
 " Do you know me ? " asked Mohammed, advancing to meet 
 him. 
 
 "Yes, who does not know the brave sarechsme, Mohammed 
 Ali?" 
 
 "Do you love your mistress ? " asked Mohammed. 
 
 Youssouf looked at him with an expression of dismay and 
 anxiety. 
 
 " I mean, you love her as it beseems every faithful servant 
 to love his mistress you are ready to do her every serv- 
 ice?" 
 
 " Yes, sarechsme, so do I love her," replied Youssouf, in low 
 tones. 
 
 " Then listen ! Come close to me it is a secret. I tell you 
 of it for your mistress's sake ; reward me by letting no one 
 know who told you." 
 
 " I swear that I will not, sarechsme ! " 
 
 u Go to vour mistress and tell her to have all her treasure,
 
 A STRONG HEART. 363 
 
 her gold and silver plate, and all her other valuables, put in a 
 safe place. You probably have some such places in your cel- 
 lars or vaults. It must be done quickly. Say a dream has 
 warned you or what you will, but do not name me ! '" 
 
 He enveloped himself in his mantle, and hurried back to 
 his palace, in which all was now still. The soldiers had gone 
 out to spend the present given them by their general in joy 
 and revelry. Mohammed was again alone in his chamber. 
 He walked to and fro, reflecting on all he had done, with silent 
 self-applause : 
 
 " It would have been unfortunate had he found Sitta Ne- 
 fysseh's treasure. It would help him out of his difficulties. 
 That would never do. You are falling, Cousrouf ! and it is I 
 who am hurling you down ! Your peril increases with every 
 hour ! You have only to insult Sitta Nefysseh, and all Cairo 
 will rise up in arms against you. Let that be your last deed ! 
 Then, Cousrouf, when you have fallen, you shall know who 
 has destroyed you ! Masa, sleep quietly in your cold grave ! 
 You are being avenged 1 " 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A STRONG HEART. 
 
 MOHAMMED ALI'S warning to the kachef Youssouf had not 
 been disregarded. In the secret vault, the entrance to which 
 had been confided by Mourad Bey to his wife on his death-bed, 
 Sitta Nefysseh's treasure now lay in security. 
 
 No one in the house knew of this vault ; Sitta Nefysseh 
 had confided it to the kachef Youssouf only, and they two had 
 conveyed all her valuables to tbis hiding-place. 
 
 When all was completed, and the Sitta had retired to her 
 apartments, Youssouf announced himself, and, upon being ad- 
 mitted, stepped humbly forward, fell on his knees, and hand- 
 ed her the keys. 
 
 She looked at him in surprise. " What does this mean ? 
 What do you bring me ? "
 
 364 MOHAMMED ALl AND HIS IlOLSt. 
 
 " The keys to the vault. This one opens the inner, and the 
 other the outer door." 
 
 " You will keep them for me, Youssouf," said his mistress, 
 inclining her beautiful head. 
 
 '' You confide them to me," said he, his countenance radiant 
 with delight. " You wish to confide to your slave the keys to 
 your treasure ? " 
 
 u Does that surprise you ?" asked she, gently. "I know I 
 can safely confide to the kachef of my deceased husband all 
 that I have and possess. You will keep the keys ; and listen, 
 Youssouf, should I die " 
 
 " Die ! " he exclaimed, with a cry which he found it im- 
 possible to repress. " Die ! you, Sitta Nefysseh ? " 
 
 " I am mortal, as we all are, as great Mourad was ! " said 
 she, gravely. " If I should die, you will take these keys to Os- 
 man Bey Bardissi, and tell him that Sitta Nefysseh sends them 
 to him, and that in the vault here are souvenirs for her friends. 
 You, however, Youssouf, I make the executor of my last will ; 
 you are to distribute the souvenirs according to a list that I 
 will give you/' 
 
 She arose and took from a little closet in the wall a small 
 book, bound with gold and richly studded with diamonds. 
 
 " This book contains the names of those to whom I wish to 
 leave a present at my death ; you will act according to the in- 
 structions contained in it, but the book itself you will keep. 
 My initials are on it, set in splendid diamonds. It was given 
 me by Bonaparte, the general of the Franks. Keep it, and, 
 when you read my name, think of me ! " 
 
 " Mistress, I can bear it no longer ! " cried he, bursting into 
 tears and falling on his knees. " No, I can bear it no longer ! 
 The thought of your dying robs me of all self-control. O mis- 
 tress, be merciful, and do not speak of your death ! " 
 
 " We have already dismissed that subject," said she, smil- 
 ing. " We must be firm and brave. Youssouf must not weep 
 like a young girl ! Dry your tears, I will not see them ! " 
 
 Obedient to her command, he arose and brushed the tears 
 from his eyes. " Mistress, at your bidding my heart is strong 
 again, and your slave awaits your commands," said he, in a 
 firm voice.
 
 A STRONG HEART. 365 
 
 She seemed to be struggling to regain control of herself. 
 Youssouf s eyes rested on her in a glance of such passionate 
 tenderness that she felt it without seeing it. 
 
 " I have a final commission to give you," said she. 
 
 " A command, mistress ! You know that your slightest 
 wish is a command for me, and would be carried out if I 
 should die in the performance ! " 
 
 " Die ? " said she, with a slight start. " Now you speak of 
 death, Youssouf. No, you shall not die ! No, thoughts of 
 death overtake us soon enough ! Listen : I wish you to mount 
 your horse and ride to Osman Bey Bardissi's camp." 
 
 '* Now, mistress ! No, do not require this of me ! " cried 
 he, anxiously. " You are aware an unknown friend has 
 warned us, and said that Sitta should hide her treasure, as 
 danger threatened her. And now you require Youssouf to 
 leave you, him who promised his master, Mourad Bey, that he 
 would faithfully stand beside you his life long ! You cannot 
 send me away, you will wait until the danger is past : then 
 will I go wherever you send me, were it to the ends of the 
 world ! For you, Youssouf will rush into the arms of Death, 
 but he cannot leave you to face danger alone. No, Sitta Ne- 
 fysseh, do not require this of me ! " 
 
 " I do require it of you. The message I wish to send Osman 
 Bey is important and secret, and I can intrust it to no one but 
 you. Within an hour, you will mount your horse, leave the 
 city, and not rest until you are with Bardissi." 
 
 " Impossible, mistress, quite impossible ! Only let me re- 
 main with you until the danger is past, then I will fly to Os- 
 man Bey, and conjure him to come with his men to protect 
 Sitta Nefysseh." 
 
 " Youssouf, I had always supposed you were devoted and 
 obedient to me," said she, in tones of displeasure. " You have 
 sworn that you will be my slave, although you are a free man, 
 and may let your beard grow. Now when I, for the first time, 
 put your obedience to the proof, you refuse to do what I re- 
 quire. Is that honoring your mistress, is that fulfilling your 
 oath ? I repeat it, Kachef Youssouf, you will leave my house, 
 and repair at once to the camp of Osman Bey Bardissi." 
 
 " That is to say, O mistress, you intend to drive me from
 
 366 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 you ; you wish to proclaim to the world that Kachef Youssouf 
 is a faithless coward ! " 
 
 " Who dare say that ? " cried she, her eyes sparkling with 
 anger. 
 
 " Do you not suppose all the world will point their fingers 
 at me when I return ? ' When danger threatened, he deserted 
 his mistress,' I already hear them say ; ' he saved himself, and 
 left her to face the danger alone.' " 
 
 "If any one should dare to speak thus, I should say, it was 
 I who sent you away. Go, now, Kachef Youssouf. Too many 
 words have already passed between us ; it is time you obeyed 
 my command." 
 
 '' Well, then, mistress, you command me to go, and I will 
 go. What do you care, though you inflict profound anguish 
 on a faithful servant, though his heart break ? What do you 
 care, though my whole future be made miserable ? Like a 
 heavenly vision, you float high above all human anguish and 
 torment ; they do not touch your heart. Your heart, O mis- 
 tress, is luminous like the diamond, but also cold and hard 
 like the diamond.'' 
 
 " Youssouf ! " cried she, in tones that made his heart leap 
 " Youssouf, you accuse me of being hard and cold ! " 
 
 For a moment a wondrous brilliancy shone in her eyes, 
 then she suddenly drew back from Youssouf, who stood there, 
 motionless, in a state of ecstasy. He stood gazing at her, en- 
 tranced, seeming to hear and see nothing. Not far from him, 
 her face turned away, Sitta Nefysseh stood still. He distinctly 
 heard her hurried breathing, and something like a low sob 
 escape her breast. He listened to it as to mysterious and 
 wondrously sweet music. 
 
 Suddenly, she turned around, and advanced toward him 
 with head erect and proud bearing. " Kachef Youssouf, you 
 have excited my indignation by your unmerited reproaches ! 
 No one can say that Mourad Bey's widow has a cold, hard 
 heart. Mourad Bey knew otherwise ; he knew that I loved 
 him ; and if I have seemed, since his death, to have a cold, 
 hard heart, it is only because I have remained true to his 
 memory. Consider this, and do not dare to reproach me. 
 Now go, and hasten with my message to Bardissi ! "
 
 A STRONG HEART. 367 
 
 " I am going, mistress," said he, sadly. " But, when I have 
 executed your command, then I may return to my mistress 
 with what speed my horse can bear me, may I not ? " 
 
 She remained silent, and let her eyelids, with their long, 
 black lashes, sink down over her beautiful eyes. It seemed to 
 him that a sigh escaped her breast. 
 
 '' No," said she, in a low voice. 
 
 " No ? " shrieked, rather than cried, Youssouf . " I may not 
 return ! " 
 
 "You may not return, Kachef Youssouf. I have long 
 recognized that it ill became a young man to pass his days 
 here in ease and quiet, while his friends, his brothers, are con- 
 fronting the enemy on the battle-field. You said it would 
 disgrace Youssouf if he left his mistress in danger ; but 
 it seems to me that the disgrace is much greater when a 
 youth, born perhaps to become a hero, spends his days in in- 
 glorious ease, reclining on soft cushions. Consider that 
 Mourad Bey never laid aside his sword. Eemember that, 
 when the trumpet sounded, he was ever the first to the field. 
 He would have considered him his enemy who should have 
 said to him : ' Remain at home, and repose on your cushions 
 while your brethren are facing death for the fatherland !' I 
 think you should endeavor to follow his example. You 
 must follow his example ! Kachef Youssouf, I will tell you 
 what is written in the letter you are to take to Osman Bey. 
 I announce to him that I send the truest and bravest of all 
 kachefs, and I beg him to take you to battle with him. I 
 announce to him that I give him for the fatherland, and the 
 most faithful friend I have, and beg him to place you at the 
 starting-point, from which you are to run your race as a 
 hero." 
 
 " Oh, bitterness and anguish ! " cried Youssouf, in tones 
 of despair. " She drives me from her like a miserable dog 
 whom she will not tolerate on the threshold of her door." 
 
 " No, Youssouf," replied Sitta Nefysseh, sadly. " No ! 
 His mistress only points out to Youssouf the road he must 
 pursue in order to become one day a hero, and the first and 
 foremost of all the Mameluke beys. There is a higher bliss 
 than domestic happiness, and that is the pursuit of glory. Let
 
 368 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 glory be your aim. You shall be called a hero, and the scha- 
 er shall proclaim your deeds to the listening people. And 
 this, O Youssouf," she added in lower tones, "this is my con- 
 solation in parting with you you," she quickly resumed, as if 
 feeling that there had been something in the tone of her voice 
 that required an explanation, " you whom 1 esteem as my hus- 
 band's devoted friend ! And now go, Youssouf, and let this 
 be my farewell greeting ! Think of me when you go out to 
 battle, think that your glory is my pride ! " 
 
 " I am going," said he, in a choking voice. " I am going, 
 and to die, Sitta Nefysseh ! " 
 
 "To die ? No, Youssouf," cried she. "No, not to die." 
 
 " I must, for you drive me from you ; you send me to con- 
 front the death-dealing bullets. Do not think that it is base 
 fear that drives me to despair. When going with my master 
 to battle, I have never known fear. I am going away to die ; 
 I shall seek the enemy's bullets in the hope that they gra- 
 ciously relieve me of my miserable existence." 
 
 " Youssouf," cried she, in tones of such pride and dignity 
 that he started " Youssouf, I had supposed until now that I 
 was your mistress." 
 
 " Yes, you were my mistress until this hour ; but now you 
 drive me from you ! " cried he in anguish. 
 
 " No ; wherever you may be you are mine, and must obey 
 me. You are a free man, and yet I hold you in bonds. In 
 virtue of these bonds I command you not to seek death, but to 
 seek renown. You are to return, a Mameluke bey. Thus 
 must he return ; thus must Sitta Nefysseh see him appear on 
 her threshold, and then And now," she quickly interrupted 
 herself, " have you heard your mistress's command ? You 
 will not seek death ? You swear to me that you will fight 
 like a true soldier for fatherland and glory, and that you will 
 not seek death ? The brave do not fear death, neither do they 
 seek it. The despairing seek death, and thereby invoke upon 
 themselves the curse of Allah for all time. Swear to me that 
 you will fight like a hero, and yet hold your life sacred. I, 
 Sitta Nefysseh, your mistress, command you to do so ! " 
 
 " And I will obey my mistress's command ! I swear that 
 I will struggle against my despair. I swear that I will live,
 
 A STRONG HEART. 360 
 
 to do your bidding now, and to return to hear from your lips 
 perhaps, a kindly word of approval. You shall be pleaseu 
 with me. I will fight as beseems your servant. O Sitta 
 Nefysseh, you are not cruel in sending me away ; you at<* 
 only wise and thoughtful, not cold and hard of heart, are 
 you ? You view the world with composure and wisdom. 
 You find that Kachef Youssouf should no longer remain here 
 in ease and inactivity, and you send him from you for his 
 own sake. This is kind and noble on your part, and I shouio 
 thank you for sending me away to perform deeds of valor, 
 and return a Mameluke bey. This is magnanimous of you, 
 and it was only my miserable weakness that prevented me 
 from recognizing it, and sent foolish tears to my eyes." 
 
 He covered his face with his hands, and his head fell upon 
 his breast. Sitta Nefysseh gazed at him intently ; he did nor 
 see the expression of anguish that rested on her features. 
 When he removed his hands from his face, she had averted 
 her gaze, and her countenance was composed. 
 
 " Forgive me, mistress," said he, " I was a fool once more 
 I thought of the past, and wept over it. But I am now rec 
 onciled, and ready to go. I will do as you say ; I will uo' 
 seek death, but I will thank Allah if he allows it to find me. 
 Farewell, mistress ! " He fell on his knees and kissed the hem 
 of her dress. He then stood up and rushed out of the roo2- 
 without looking at her again. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh looked after him with outstretched arms 
 and the flood of tears which she had so long restrained bursr 
 from her eyes. 
 
 " I love him, O Allah ! Thou knowest that I love him ' 
 Let him return a hero covered with glory, and then, O Ahab 
 graciously grant that I may be able to reward him for all 
 love, and for all the pain I have caused him ! Let 
 Youssouf return as Youssouf the Mameluke bey, and I shau 
 be blessed ; as the master of my life will I accept him, for i 
 love him.'' 
 
 A horse's hoofs ring out against the pavement of the 
 court-yard without. A cry resounds from her lips, and she 
 sinks down. " Allah, watch over him I Let him return ' 
 I love him I love him so dearly ! " '
 
 370 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PERSECUTION. 
 
 AN hour had scarcely elapsed since Youasouf s departure 
 when two of her maids rushed into Sitta Nefysseh's presence 
 with anxious looks. She lay on the divan, her countenance 
 entirely concealed, to hide her tear-stained features. She re- 
 mained still, endeavoring to recover her composure. The 
 women came nearer. 
 
 " Mistress, some one is here who wishes to speak with Sitta 
 Nefysseh." 
 
 " Well, what is it that alarms you so ? " said she, raising 
 her head slightly, and looking at them. " Who is it that 
 wishes to speak with me ? " 
 
 " O mistress," murmured one of them, " it is the cadi with 
 four of the police. " 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh sprang to her feet. 
 
 " What say you ? The chief of the police dares to enter 
 my house ! What does he want ? " 
 
 " He says he comes at the instance of his highness the 
 viceroy." 
 
 " If that is the case," said Sitta Nefysseh, quietly, " let him 
 enter." One of the women opened the door, and the cadi, 
 the chief of police, appeared on the threshold; behind 
 him stood four policemen, with pistols and daggers in their 
 belts, their hands on their swords. 
 
 "Were my women right ? " asked Sitta Nefysseh, with dig- 
 nity. "You come in the name of his highness the vice- 
 roy?" 
 
 " Yes," replied the cadi, with a slight bow. " Yes, I come 
 in his highness's name. The viceroy commands that Mourad 
 Bey's widow accompany me at once to his presence, to the 
 citadel." 
 
 *' And with what right ? " asked she quietly. 
 
 " I know not and care not," said the official, with an air of 
 indifference; " here is the order." He drew from his pocket a 
 document, to which large seals were appended, and handed it
 
 PERSECUTION. 
 
 to her. Sitta Nefysseh looked at it, and returned it with per- 
 fect composure. 
 
 "You are right, it is the viceroy's order. I will obey. 
 Order the carriage to be driven to the door." 
 
 She said this in such imperious tones that the cadi, at other 
 times a proud man, and a high dignitary of the viceroy's 
 court, could not but obey her, and stepped out and delivered 
 her command to one of his officers. He then returned to Sitta 
 Nefysseh. 
 
 "I have orders to leave a guard in your house," said he. 
 
 " Then do so," said she, quietly. " The viceroy is master 
 over us all, and it seems there is no law here in Cairo but his 
 will. Obey him, therefore. Leave a guard in my house." 
 
 He seemed not to notice the mockery in her words, and 
 bowed in silence. 
 
 "No one may enter or leave your house during your 
 absence." 
 
 " Why do you say this to me ? Say it to those who may 
 desire to leave it after I have gone, and who may be alarmed. 
 I am not alarmed ; my conscience does not accuse me. My 
 carriage is ready let us go. I trust, however, that the viceroy 
 does not require me to appear before him alone ; it is becom- 
 ing that Mourad's Bey's widow should be accompanied by her 
 women when she goes out." 
 
 " I am not instructed to refuse such a request ; yet, there 
 must not be more of them than your carriage will contain." 
 
 "Two of my servants will accompany me," said she. 
 Without once looking back into the room, or manifesting any 
 fear or anxiety whatever, she stepped out into the vestibule, 
 and, beckoning to two of the weeping women who had 
 assembled about her, commanded them to follow her. ' % You 
 others need fear nothing," said she with perfect composure. 
 ' The cadi leaves his guards here to protect you, against whom 
 1 know not, but certainly against some one." Taking leave of 
 her servants with a kindly nod, and drawing her veil more 
 closely about her, she walked proudly out into the court-yard 
 to the carriage. 
 
 Almost ashamed of his errand, the cadi followed and 
 assisted her in entering the carriage, closing the door aftei
 
 372 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 her. The carriage drove off rapidly, accompanied by the cadi 
 and his officers, while another body of men remained in 
 charge of the house. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh leaned back against the cushions while the 
 carriage rolled through the streets, her thoughts far distant 
 from her present surroundings. 
 
 " I thank thee, Allah, that he is saved ! " she murmured to 
 herself. "I thank thee! He would have been excited to 
 ungovernable wrath, and he would have been punished and 
 imprisoned as a rebel. I have saved him ! What have I now 
 to fear ? Let the worst befall, provided only that he be safe '< n 
 
 The carriage moved slowly up the Muskj Street, through 
 dense crowds of people. It was market-day, and the street 
 was thronged with people, who complained so loudly of the 
 intruding cai-riage and horsemen that Sitta Nefysseh, aroused 
 from her meditations, leaned forward and drew the window- 
 curtains aside. The people, who in their wrath had not 
 observed that the cadi and his officers constituted the escort of 
 the carriage, now became silent as they saw the woman at the 
 window, and peered in with curiosity. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh raised her veil and displayed her countenance 
 to the multitude. "It is Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's 
 widow 1 " resounded in the street. The cry was repeated until 
 the gaze of all became fixed on the carriage in astonishment. 
 " What does it mean ? " 
 
 Buying and selling were no longer thought of. The 
 people followed the carriage, which moved slowly through 
 the crowded street toward the viceroy's citadel, in dense 
 masses. It was in vain that the cadi ordered them to disperse ; 
 in vain that the officers threatened them witb drawn swords. 
 They only pressed on in denser masses, increased by the peo- 
 ple who came flocking from their houses to see Mourad Bey's 
 widow, who sat tranquilly in the carriage with her two 
 women. Their destination was at last reached, and the gates 
 of the citadel closed behind them. The people who had 
 accompanied the carriage remained without, yelling and 
 shrieking : " Sitta Nefysseh is imprisoned let us liberate her ! " 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh had left her carriage, and was now following 
 the cadi, who walked in advance. Behind her came the two
 
 PERSECUTION. 373 
 
 women, followed by the officers. Thus the procession moved 
 in profound silence up the broad stairway and into the grand 
 reception saloon. 
 
 " Be kind enough to wait here a moment," said the cadi. 
 
 He walked into the next apartment. Sitta Nefysseh, who 
 had again covered her face with her veil, stood proudly erect 
 in the midst of the saloon. The two weeping women stepped 
 nearer to their mistress, and asked if danger threatened 
 her, and begged to be permitted to accompany her every- 
 where. 
 
 "Be still!" said Sitta, in low tones. "Shed no tears. 
 These men must not have the satisfaction of seeing us appear 
 cowardly and weak." 
 
 The cadi now returned and stood at the threshold, holding 
 the velvet curtain aside. 
 
 "Be kind enough to enter, Sitta Nefysseh." 
 
 " Not alone. My women will accompany me." 
 
 " No, they are to remain here. You alone are to enter. The 
 women will await your return here." 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh walked proudly into the next apartment. 
 The curtain fell back behind her. Cousrouf, who lay stretched 
 out on his silken cushions, smoking his chibouque, looked 
 up at her through the clouds of smoke that enveloped him as 
 she entered the room. She looked at him composedly, and 
 remained standing at the door with so proud and dignified a 
 bearing, such majesty in her whole appearance, that Cousrouf's 
 insolence could not but succumb. He arose and advanced to 
 meet her. 
 
 " I salute you, Sitta Nefysseh, widow of Mourad Bey ! " 
 
 "I do not return your salutation. I have been conducted 
 here from my house in an insulting manner, and I am now 
 surprised to find that his highness seems only to have had me 
 brought here in order to salute me." 
 
 "I did not call you in order to salute you, but for an en- 
 tirely different purpose," replied Cousrouf. " Seat yourself on 
 the ottoman beside me, and let us converse." 
 
 " Converse, highness?" Friends and confidants sit down to 
 converse with each other, but unfortunately we are neither," 
 replied she, composedly, as she seated herself on the ottoman
 
 374 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 with the dignity of a princess. Cousrouf remaining standing, 
 Sitta Nefysseh raised her hand and pointed to the divan. 
 " To the viceroy belongs the seat of honor. I beg your high- 
 ness to take that seat." 
 
 He bowed slightly, and took the seat assigned him. 
 
 '* I wished to beg Sitta Nefysseh's permission to seat myself 
 at her side, to converse with her as a friend. You do not de- 
 sire it, however you wish to see in me the prince only. Let 
 it be so. I am only the viceroy, and I have summoned you to 
 appear before me." 
 
 " Summoned, you call it ? " cried she, passionately. " I call 
 it being dragged here in a disgraceful manner ! " 
 
 " Compose yourself, Sitta Nefysseh ; let us converse calmly. 
 I have grave reproaches to make." 
 
 "Against me ?" asked she, in astonishment. 
 
 " Yes, serious, grave reproaches ! You are of the opinion, 
 are you not, that every mistress is responsible for the actions 
 of her servants ? " 
 
 " I am, because, if one has bad and faithless servants, he 
 should discharge them. Yes, it seems to me a master is re- 
 sponsible for his servants' actions." 
 
 " And therefore have I summoned you to this audience. 
 Do you know what your kachef Youssouf has done ? " 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh trembled. It was fortunate that her veil 
 concealed her features, and that Cousrouf could not see the 
 deathly pallor that overspread her cheeks. 
 
 " My kachef ? " said she, with forced composure. " Of what 
 is he accused ? " 
 
 " He is accused of attempting to bribe my soldiers, and in- 
 cite them to revolt and treason." 
 
 " That is not true ! " exclaimed she, passionately. " That is 
 a falsehood, and I tell you so to your face ! My words are 
 true. My kachef has never done such things ; he is incapable 
 of inciting any one to a breach of faith or to treason. He is 
 the truest and best of my servants." 
 
 " And yet it is true. Your kachef has incited my soldiers 
 to treason. The viceroy says it is true ! " cried Cousrouf. 
 " Youssouf attempted to corrupt one of my own soldiers, an 
 Armenian, urging him to go over to Osman Bardissi. When
 
 PERSECUTION. 375 
 
 the soldier refused, he promised to give him the same pay he 
 now receives from me." 
 
 " Highness, that is not true, I swear it is not ! " 
 
 " Here is the proof ! " answered Cousrouf, rising to his feet 
 and taking from the table a paper, which he unfolded. " Here 
 is the proof ! Here it is, plainly written in his own handwrit- 
 ing ! Herein your kachef Youssouf promises my soldier, 
 Sadok Aga, to give him his whole pay, and even double the 
 amount, if he will undertake to ride to Bardissi's camp and 
 convey a letter to the bey. Here it is in his own handwriting, 
 and signed by him. " 
 
 " Highness, I beg you to let me see the writing," said Ne- 
 fysseh, extending her hand to take the paper. *' Let me see it ; 
 I can read." 
 
 Cousrouf did not comply with her request. He folded the 
 paper, and laid it on the table again. 
 
 " It is unnecessary that you should read it. I insist that 
 your kachef endeavors to corrupt my soldiers and induce them 
 to desert to Bardissi's camp. This is clearly treason. As you 
 yourself admit that a mistress is responsible for her servant's 
 actions, I declare and shall hold you, Sitta Nefysseh, responsi- 
 ble for your servant's crime." 
 
 " That you cannot do, highness ! Youssouf is no longer 
 my servant, is no longer in my house. I have discharged 
 him, not because I thought ill of him, not because I desired to 
 punish him, but because I esteem him, because I know he was 
 created for something better than to be only the servant of a 
 woman. I discharged him because his courage and nobility 
 of soul urged him to draw the sword and go out to battle. He 
 has gone to Bardissi's camp to serve in the ranks of his Mame- 
 lukes." 
 
 " That is to say," cried Cousrouf, in angry tones" that is 
 to say, Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's widow raises soldiers in 
 her house for the army of our enemy ! " 
 
 ' Could your highness expect Mourad Bey's the Mame- 
 luke chieftain's widow to raise soldiers for the enemies of 
 her deceased husband ? " asked she, throwing her head back 
 proudly. " Yet let me remark this : my expression was badly 
 chosen. Sitta Nefysseh does not occupy herself with raising
 
 376 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 soldiers. Youssouf was brought up by my husband, and has 
 remained in my house these few years since his death. He 
 had grown weary of the effeminate life he was leading, and 
 begged to be discharged from my service. I did as he re- 
 quested. I am not his mother, not his sister, and not his rela- 
 tive. He is a freeman, and puts his freedom to the best use. 
 But I tell you that he is not guilty of the charge you make 
 against him he never wrote that paper. And do you know 
 why not, Cousrouf ? Because he does not know how to write. 
 He is a warrior, and only knows how to write indelible char- 
 acters on the faces of his enemies with his sword ; and, believe 
 me, I should recognize these characters if they were inscribed 
 on your face I should recognize the handwriting of my 
 kachef ; but the characters on that paper are not his." 
 
 "Truly, Sitta Nefysseh, your audacity is great!" cried 
 Cousrouf. 
 
 "But, it seems to me, yours is far greater; forgive me for 
 saying so, highness. Man and woman we stand before each 
 other, and you have publicly branded the woman , who is con- 
 scious of no shame, with disgrace." 
 
 " How can you make such a charge against me ? What is 
 it that I have done ? You yourself acknowledge that the 
 master is justly responsible for his servants' actions, and I re- 
 peat it: your kachef has endeavored to draw my soldiers from 
 their allegiance, to corrupt them. I have accused you of noth- 
 ing else." 
 
 "Yes, you have more than accused me of other crimes!" 
 cried she, throwing back her veil, her eyes sparkling with in- 
 dignation. "Look at me! In me, you have put the woman, 
 put Mourad Bey's widow to shame. You have caused me to 
 be brought from my house by policemen. That is to say, you 
 have insulted, in me, womanly virtue and honor ! " 
 
 " How so ? " asked Cousrouf, in astonishment. 
 
 "Do you know so little of the customs of our land? You, 
 the Viceroy of Egypt, do not know that, when women are led 
 through the street by the police, it is equivalent to branding 
 them as lost to all shame ; that they are delivered over to the 
 police to be punished by being conducted through the public 
 streets, to the disgrace of their entire sex I "
 
 PERSECUTION. 377 
 
 " You go too far," replied the viceroy. " I did cause you to 
 be conducted here. I sent to you one of the first dignitaries 
 of my court, the cadi ; I did this to honor you. To be thus 
 conducted by the cadi through the street is not disgraceful, as 
 in the case of the women you speak of. In your own carriage 
 you were escorted by the cadi and his servants, and your good 
 name and honor, which I respect in common with all the 
 world, cannot have suffered thereby. Yet your conduct has 
 been culpable, you are responsible for your kachef's deeds ; 
 and through him I accuse you of treason, and you, Nefysseh, 
 must suffer for your servant's crime." 
 
 "Then, take my life, if that will benefit you," said she, 
 quietly. " I have nothing to give you but that. If you take 
 my life, you will be accused of murder, and, believe, this accu- 
 sation will be heard by all Cairo. I have nothing more to 
 say. Deal with me as you think proper." 
 
 " You challenge my enmity, you shall have it ! It were 
 wise on your part to beg me to pardon Youssouf, to withdraw 
 the accusation, and to declare yourself ready to pay the re- 
 quired sum to my soldiers." 
 
 "Where is Mourad Bey's widow to obtain the money? 
 Your men have remained in my house, let them search for 
 treasure there. Let them take what they find. Mourad's 
 widow is poor, and your endeavor is vain. You will find 
 nothing of value in my house ; long wars have made Mourad's 
 widow poor. And, if I had money, I would rather cast it into 
 the Nile, than to give it to the enemies of my husband ! Now 
 I have spoken and relieved my heart. Now do with me as 
 you think proper, Cousrouf. This I will, however, repeat, my 
 kachef Youssouf did not write the characters on that paper. 
 He is not capable of corrupting men from their allegiance. 
 Do you desire my life ? If so, take it ! But if you venture to 
 do so, prepare yourself to meet all Cairo in insurrection. Al- 
 lah is just ! You will then see all Cairo, held by you in fet- 
 ters until now, rise up and burst its bonds, and shake its mane 
 in lion-like wrath." 
 
 " We shall see if our lion really rises in its wrath, when I, 
 as I am in duty bound, do justice to those who have done 
 wrong and committed crimes ! " 
 25
 
 378 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 He arose from his divan, stepped to the door, and called 
 one of his servants. In answer to his call, a servant hastened 
 into the room. 
 
 " Conduct Sitta Nefysseh to the house of Sheik Hesseyni, 
 who lives in the old citadel ; tell him to guard her well, and 
 not to allow any one to see her." 
 
 u Tell him, cadi," said Nefysseh, quietly, " tell him to guard 
 me as every jailor guards his prisoner ; that is the true mean- 
 ing of the viceroy's words. Farewell, Cousrouf I am going 
 to my prison ! May your conscience reproach you as little as 
 mine does me ! Farewell ! " 
 
 She drew her veil over her countenance, and slowly left 
 the apartment. At the door sat her two women weeping and 
 sobbing. She commanded them to follow her, and walked on 
 as composedly as if she were the princess of this palace. She 
 swept down the marble stairway to her carriage, as if about to 
 take a drive. 
 
 " Sitta Nefysseh, it will not be necessary to enter your car- 
 riage," said the cadi, who had followed her. " We shall only 
 have to pass through that little side-door to be in the sheik's 
 house." 
 
 "Ah, you desire to prevent the people, who are calling so 
 loudly after me, from seeing me in my degradation, or rather 
 the degradation of those who tread law and propriety under 
 foot in their treatment of me." 
 
 "Sitta Nefysseh, I know nothing of the charges made 
 against you," replied the cadi, gruffly. " I obey the orders of 
 the viceroy ; the rest does not concern me." 
 
 " That is certainly the most convenient course," said she, 
 derisively, and quietly submitting when he took hold of her 
 arm and led her across the court to the little gate in the wall. 
 The women followed her. Their tears no longer flowed, and 
 they seemed to consider themselves happy in being at least 
 allowed to accompany their mistress. 
 
 Dense masses of people still stood without. They called 
 loudly for Sitta Nefysseh, swearing by Allah that they would 
 not leave until she should be released. But what can the 
 poor, defenceless people do when confronted by armed soldiers, 
 ready to fire destructive volleys among them ? What can they
 
 PERSECUTION. 379 
 
 do but sullenly retire under such circumstances ? This they 
 now did. About the citadel quiet now reigned, but the streets 
 below were still thronged with dense crowds, from out whose 
 midst the cries continually resounded : "Sitta Nefysseh has 
 been arrested ! She has been shamefully conducted through 
 the streets to the citadel by the police ! She has been pub- 
 licly insulted ! She, the noblest of women, is accused of a 
 great crime ! " 
 
 When night came, the excitement and fury of the popu- 
 lace had not yet subsided. Early on the morning of the fol- 
 lowing day, dense masses of people surged to the house 
 where Hesseyni, the chief sheik of the city, resided, and de- 
 manded with loud clamors that he should liberate Sitta 
 Nefysseh. 
 
 The sheik had given serious consideration to this difficult 
 and embarrassing case, and, before the people forced an en- 
 trance, had already determined to comply with their de- 
 mands. 
 
 In solemn procession, their green turbans on their heads, 
 and enveloped in their long flowing caftans, with their costly 
 ermine collars, the entire body of sheiks repaired on foot to 
 the palace. With grave and solemn bearing, these repre- 
 sentatives of public justice demanded that they should be con- 
 ducted to the viceroy's presence. 
 
 He received them in his apartment, advancing to meet 
 them with a kindly greeting. 
 
 " What do you desire, friends ? You know I am always 
 glad to hear the wishes of the people as pronounced by you, 
 their representatives." 
 
 " Then listen to these wishes, highness ! " said one of the 
 sheiks. "The people, and we with them, desire that Sitta 
 Nefysseh, who was yesterday forcibly taken from her house, 
 be permitted to return to the same. Her house has been 
 shamefully ill-used, Cousrouf Pacha ! Your police have 
 treated it like the house of an enemy. Nothing has remained 
 in its place ; every thing is overturned and thrown about. 
 They were looking for treasure, highness, and they found 
 nothing. Sitta Nefysseh was considered rich, and that was 
 perhaps her crime ; or will your highness be kind enough
 
 380 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 to inform us if Sitta Nefysseh is accused of any other 
 crime ! " 
 
 " She is," replied Cousrouf . " She is accused of the most 
 shameful of all crimes. Her kachef attempted to corrupt one 
 of my soldiers, offering him double pay if he would desert to 
 the army of the rebellious Mamelukes.'' 
 
 " Is that proven, highness ? " asked the sheik. 
 
 " It is proven ! I possess written proof of the fact. Here 
 it is ; read it for yourselves. This attempt has excited the 
 just wrath of my good soldiers. Believe it was in order to 
 protect Sitta Nefysseh from the fury of my soldiers that I 
 called her here. I repeat it, Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's 
 widow, has endeavored to corrupt, and has offered my soldiers 
 double pay. She is now in my power, and I will punish her ; 
 yet, I will be merciful on your account. Let her do as she 
 offered let her give my soldiers their pay, and her offence 
 shall be overlooked this time." 
 
 " That would be a punishment not prescribed by law/' re- 
 plied the sheik, quietly. " If Sitta Nefysseh is really guilty 
 of the crime of which you accuse her, she is indeed very cul- 
 pable, highness ; but she can not atone for it with money. 
 Her guilt must, however, be proven ; and it devolves upon us, 
 the representatives of public justice, to consider and deter- 
 mine whether Sitta Nefysseh is guilty or not." 
 
 u Does not my word suffice ? " cried Cousrouf, passionately. 
 " I tell you that she is guilty, that I have proof of her guilt, 
 and I declare that this suffices. I repeat what I have said, if 
 she pays my soldiers she is free." 
 
 " That does not suffice ! " replied the sheik. " We must 
 first know whether Sitta Nefysseh confesses herself guilty. 
 In accordance with the law and with your permission, high- 
 ness, let two of the sheiks go to Sitta Nefysseh and ask her if 
 she confesses herself guilty ; and, further, what she has to say 
 in her defence. This is just, and this must be done." 
 
 "Do as you say. Go to her. But her own declaration of 
 her innocence will not suffice for me. She must have as 
 much proof of her innocence as I have of her guilt. Go to 
 Sitta Nefysseh. You will find her in the house of Sheik 
 Hesseyni."
 
 PERSECUTION. 381 
 
 With a profound bow the sheiks withdrew from the vice- 
 roy's apartment and repaired to the house of Sheik Hesseyni. 
 
 Sitta Nef ysseh greeted the cadis and sheiks with profound 
 deference and perfect composure. 
 
 " I see," said she, gently, " you believe in my innocence, 
 and know that Sitta Nef ysseh is guilty of no crime, and has 
 been unjustly covered with shame." 
 
 " We well know that you have committed no crime," said 
 the sheik. " The viceroy, however, accuses you of having at- 
 tempted to corrupt his soldiers through your kachef ; tell us, 
 is this true ? " 
 
 " You well know that it is not true ! Why should I do it, 
 and how could I be so foolish as to attempt such a thing ? I 
 give you my word, I swear by the memory of Mourad Bey, I 
 am innocent of the crime of which I am accused. I have not 
 attempted to corrupt the soldiers of Cousrouf Pacha, nor have 
 I authorized my kachef to do so. Believe me, I speak the 
 truth. But, tell me, was that all the viceroy said ? I think I 
 see through his plans, and understand this accusation. Did 
 he not name the punishment he intended to inflict on 
 me?" 
 
 " He did. You are to be set at liberty as soon as you pay 
 his soldiers what he maintains you promised their double 
 pay." 
 
 " Is it not as I said ? " cried she, in derisive tones. " Cous- 
 rouf Pacha wants money ! He has heard stories of my wealth, 
 and believes me rich ; and now, relying on a woman's timidity, 
 he endeavors to extort money from me. He wants money, 
 and therefore makes this shameful charge. Go, I beg you, to 
 the viceroy, and tell him Mourad's widow is poor, and has 
 nothing with which to appease his rapacity. Let him take 
 my life if he will. I am innocent, and if he causes me to be 
 put to death, I shall charge him with murder at Allah's foot- 
 stool ! I have nothing else to give him. Let him deal with 
 me as he thinks proper." 
 
 " We will tell him all you say, for you are in the right, 
 Sitta Nefysseh," replied the sheik. " And if you possessed all 
 the wealth of Egypt, with the millions that lie buried in its 
 deserts, you would be justified in secreting them from the
 
 382 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 tyranny and fraud that seek to extort from you your property. 
 We will therefore defend you to the best of our ability. 
 Come, sheiks, let us return to the viceroy." 
 
 They repaired to the citadel, and told the viceroy what had 
 passed. 
 
 "She is really poor, highness," said the cadi. "She de- 
 clares her innocence. She does not possess the treasure you 
 speak of, and therefore she can not comply with your de- 
 mands. Her house has been searched through, and, as you 
 are aware, nothing has been found." 
 
 "No, nothing has been found," said the viceroy to himself, 
 stepping back and walking thoughtfully to and fro. " A fear- 
 ful thought occurs to me ! Mohammed Ali may have ad- 
 vised me to take this step with an evil purpose, seeking my 
 destruction. He hates me in his heart ! I was a fool to allow 
 myself to be persuaded to stretch out my hand after this 
 woman's wealth. But I will be avenged on Mohammed 1 
 However, having once embarked hi this undertaking, I will 
 at least endeavor to withdraw from it creditably. I must 
 give myself the appearance of still believing in Sitta Nefys- 
 seh's guilt. " 
 
 He turned to the sheiks, who were awaiting his decision in 
 respectful silence. In haughty terms he declined to admit 
 that he had been deceived, and that Sitta Nefysseh was inno- 
 cent. 
 
 "The accused must be punished! " cried Cousrouf, in loud 
 and threatening tones. 
 
 The cadi drew himself up and gazed firmly at the vice- 
 roy. 
 
 "Highness, our patience is now at an end. We have 
 sought to obtain justice by peaceful entreaties. You refuse it, 
 and your refusal is an insult to us, the servants of our holy 
 religion, and the representatives of the people. Here, we have 
 therefore nothing more to say or to do. Nothing is left us but 
 to depart and repair to the mosque of El-Azar, where the head 
 of the martyr Sel-Kosyn is buried. There we will gather the 
 people about us and decide as justice shall require. Come, ye 
 sheiks, let us go to the mosque ! " 
 
 " Do so ! " cried Cousrouf, haughtily. " But, let me tell
 
 MONEY! PAY! 333 
 
 you this : if you excite the people to revolt, my cannon shall 
 thunder among you ! You will be responsible for the conse- 
 quences. " 
 
 They made no reply, but turned and left the apartment. 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 MONEY ! PAY ! 
 
 WITHOUT in the vestibule they met Mustapha, the guardian 
 of the revenues of the holy temple of Mecca. Beside him 
 stood several of the leading citizens of Cairo. They had come 
 to settle amicably, if possible, the grave difficulty between the 
 viceroy and the sheiks. 
 
 " Do not let it come to extremes, cadi," said the oualy, in 
 warning tones. " You know the viceroy is very powerful, and 
 his fierce soldiers take delight in slaughter." 
 
 " No, do not let it come to extremes," said the others, join- 
 ing in his entreaty. " Consider that they are strong, and we 
 are weak." 
 
 *' No we are strong, for we are in the right," said the cadi. 
 " We cannot allow justice to be set at defiance, and the noblest 
 of the women of Cairo to be shamefully insulted. The people 
 look to us, their representatives, to protect them, and woe to 
 us if we fail to discharge our duty! Come, let us to the 
 mosque, and there render to the people an account of what we 
 have done." 
 
 " Do this at your peril ! " cried Mustapha. " O cadi, the 
 viceroy is resolute and defies us with his troops. Let me at 
 least make an attempt to settle the matter peaceably." 
 
 " Let him do so," cried the others. At last, the cadi con- 
 sented to wait until the oualy should have seen the viceroy. 
 
 " If he liberates Sitta Nefysseh, and allows you to conduct 
 her through the streets, will you be satisfied ? " 
 
 " Not satisfied, but we will demand nothing more," said the 
 cadi, " although the viceroy should be required to confess, pub- 
 licly, that the accusation is unjust."
 
 384 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " That is too much. This the viceroy cannot and will not 
 do," cried the oualy. " Be contented if he sets the Sitta at lib- 
 erty, and allows you to show her to the people." 
 
 " But we demand, in addition," said the cadi, "that he with- 
 draw his police from her house." 
 
 " That he has already done," said the oualy, smiling. " Not 
 finding what they sought, the soldiers have quietly with- 
 drawn." 
 
 " Then I shall go at once to the viceroy, and endeavor to 
 soften his severity," cried Mustapha Aga. " Await my return 
 here." 
 
 Mustapha hastened to the viceroy's apartment. In a 
 few minutes he returned, his countenance radiant with de- 
 light. 
 
 "Ye men, the viceroy has graciously accorded what we de- 
 mand, and you are to conduct the Sitta in triumph through 
 the city. What, cadi ! you receive this intelligence calmly 
 and gloomily ? " 
 
 " The times are gloomy and lowering," said the cadi. " That 
 the viceroy sets the Sitta at liberty proves only that he had no 
 right to arrest her, and that the viceroy does right or wrong at 
 his own pleasure. That saddens me. Come, let us go after 
 Sitta Nefysseh." 
 
 " Wait a moment," said Mustapha. " The viceroy annexes 
 a little condition to his consent." 
 
 " I thought so," said the cadi, quietly. 
 
 " The viceroy requires that the Sitta shall not return to her 
 house, as he has been informed that she often receives the vis- 
 its of the Mameluke chieftains there. Her house is in the out- 
 skirts of the city, and it is difficult to observe those who enter 
 and leave it. It is peculiarly accessible to the enemy, and the 
 viceroy therefore requires that Sitta Nefysseh shall no longer 
 reside there, but in the house of Sheik Sadat. She cannot re- 
 fuse to do this." 
 
 " And she will not," said Sheik Sadat. " No, she will not 
 refuse to honor the abode of her old friend with her presence. 
 Come, let us go." 
 
 They then repaired at once to the house of Sheik Hesseyni, 
 who, already informed of what had taken place, came forward
 
 MONEY! PAY! 335 
 
 to meet them, leading Sitta Nefysseh. She extended her hand 
 to the cadi, and then turned to Sadat : 
 
 " Will you receive me into your dwelling ? Will you ex- 
 tend your hospitality to the poor woman who has been driven 
 from her own home ? " 
 
 " Welcome to my house, Sitta ! " cried Sadat. " It seems 
 to me that with you my noble friend Mourad Bey will also 
 cross my threshold once more. Your presence in my humble 
 house will do me great honor. How delighted my wives will 
 be to receive you ! " 
 
 The people had again assembled in front of the gates of the 
 citadel. As these were now opened, and Sitta Nefysseh ap- 
 peared coming toward them in the midst of her escort, the peo- 
 ple recognized her queenly figure and bearing, although her 
 face was veiled. Shouts of delight rent the air. " Long live 
 Sitta Nefysseh, and the cadi ! Praised be Allah that we have 
 a cadi who enforces our rights ! " 
 
 Cousrouf sat on his divan in his apartment. He heard this 
 cry, and muttered between his teeth, " These rebels shall pay 
 for this ! " 
 
 The shouting populace conducted Sitta Nefysseh in triumph 
 through the streets. The cadi was loudly applauded, and the 
 viceroy derided. 
 
 These shouts were not only heard by the viceroy, but also 
 by Mohammed Ali in his silent chamber, and they brought a 
 smile to his lips. He had stayed in his apartments all day, 
 and had also commanded his soldiers to remain in their quar- 
 ters. 
 
 " It works well," said he to himself. " These shouts show 
 how good was the advice I gave him. Shrewd as you are, 
 Cousrouf, you are beaten at your own game. The people are 
 contented to know you, enthroned in the citadel. They 
 dreamed of happiness and peace, and called you a just ruler. 
 I have opened their eyes. To-day, they know Cousrouf to be 
 an unjust ruler, and love him no longer. You enraged them 
 most when you dared to insult the woman who is most hon- 
 ored in Cairo. From this moment, not only the men, but, 
 what is far worse, the women, are arrayed against you." 
 
 He had risen and was walking to and fro in his apartment.
 
 386 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 From time to time he stopped at the window to listen to the 
 cries that resounded from the streets, and then resumed his 
 walking. 
 
 u What curses good Cousrouf must be invoking upon my 
 head at this moment ! He will have discovered by this time 
 that his good friend Mohammed still somewhat resembles the 
 k insolent lad,' as he always called him, of Cavalla. You have 
 schooled me well, Cousrouf ; you have converted the insolent 
 lad into a lion who wears the skin of a fox. You were pleased 
 with the fox, stroked his fur, and called him your devoted 
 servant. But, only wait, the fox-skin will soon fall to the 
 ground and disclose the lion ready to destroy you. Yes," con- 
 tinued he, " wait but a few days longer, and this transforma- 
 tion shall take place. It must take place. The week will 
 soon have elapsed, and then Bardissi must have my an- 
 swer. Cousrouf shall hear it and quake in his citadel. !}very 
 thing is ready, and my new friends shall soon hear from 
 me." 
 
 Suddenly he stopped before the window and listened atten- 
 tively. Fierce and savage cries had succeeded the shouts of 
 joy. The voices of women and children were now hushed, 
 and the hoarse tones of men only could be heard. He hastily 
 stepped back from the window. No, he must not be seen. If 
 seen, he might be called and compelled to join in the move- 
 ment against his will, and the time has not yet come. He 
 must still wait. 
 
 He stood still in the middle of the room, and listened to the 
 uproar that came. 
 
 " This is revolt ! These are soldiers ! " said he to himself, 
 stepping to the door of the antechamber, and beckoning to a 
 slave. " What is the meaning of this uproar ? " 
 
 " I know not, sarechsme. Shall I go down to inquire ? " 
 
 " Go down, mingle with the crowd, and find out what it 
 means, and then return to me as quickly as possible." 
 
 The Nubian hastened to do his master's bidding. Moham- 
 med continued to walk to and fro. The uproar, as it came 
 nearer, had become intelligible. 
 
 " We want money ! Give us bread ! We are hungry, and 
 must have our pay ! "
 
 MONEY! PAY! 387 
 
 Such were the savage cries that resounded from the street 
 below. 
 
 " Ah, I understand," said Mohammed to himself ; " these 
 are Taher Pacha's soldiers I He has marched with them into 
 the city, to begin the work on his own account ; Taher is am- 
 bitious, and wants the viceroy's throne. He begins the work 
 of rebellion for himself, he will end it for me ; though I can 
 as yet take no active part in it ! O Sitta Nefysseh, you have 
 brought me a step nearer to the throne, and Taher is advanc- 
 ing me another. Wait. Mohammed, only wait." 
 
 The Nubian returned and announced that a revolt had 
 broken out among Taher Pacha's soldiers. They had gone to 
 the citadel, and savagely demanded their pay. The viceroy 
 had received a deputation sent by them, and told them to go 
 to the defterdar, and demand payment of him in the viceroy's 
 name. In accordance with this demand, the soldiers had then 
 repaired to the house of the defterdar, and had, upon admis- 
 sion being denied them, broken down the doors. The minister 
 of finance, however, rid himself of them by telling them to 
 demand their pay of Mohammed Ali, who had a few days be- 
 fore received ten purses of gold from the viceroy for the pay- 
 ment of the troops. 
 
 " And now the soldiers have come here," said the Nubian, 
 in deferential, anxious tones. "They have surrounded the 
 house, and demand their pay. They are furious, and swear 
 by Allah and the prophet that they will not rest until they 
 have received the money due them. They complain, too, of 
 being sent from house to house like beggars." 
 
 " The poor fellows are right," said Mohammed. 
 
 Fierce cries now resounded from below : 
 
 " We will not be trodden under foot like dogs ! We are 
 no beggars ! Give us our pay, Mohammed Ali ! The defter- 
 dar sends us to you ! You have our money, and we want it ! " 
 
 He sprang to the window, tore it open, and, in tones that 
 were heard above the uproar, commanded silence. 
 
 " The defterdar has deceived you. I have no money I I 
 will come down to you." 
 
 He quickly stepped back from the window, and laid the 
 sword, dagger, and pistols, that hung in his belt, on the table.
 
 388 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " They shall see that I am not alarmed. I will go down to 
 them unarmed." 
 
 No, Mohammed All is not alarmed, they all perceive 
 as he appears among them unarmed, and motions the sol- 
 diers, that are rushing upon him, back, with a wave of the 
 hand. 
 
 " Stand back, soldiers, and do not forget that I am the 
 sarechsme. Not your general, but yet, like you, in the vice- 
 roy's service." 
 
 " Does he also pay you as he does us ? " asked a soldier, in 
 mocking tones. " Do they also give you empty promises in- 
 stead of money ? " 
 
 "That is an insolent question," said he. "I will, how- 
 ever, answer it, because I choose to do so. They do not pay 
 me. They gave the sarechsme, after he had waited in vain 
 for many months, ten purses of gold ; they owe him more. 
 Ask my soldiers what I did with this money. I shared it 
 with my soldiers as a general should. I retained five purses, 
 for this amount was due my creditors. The other five purses 
 I gave to my soldiers not as their pay, the viceroy owes them 
 that, but as a present from me. I have received no other 
 money I swear to this by Allah and the prophet. Go to my 
 soldiers and ask them if this is not true, and then do as you 
 think proper." 
 
 " Long live Mohammed Ali ! Long live the generous 
 sarechsme ! " cried one of the soldiers, and the cry was taken 
 up and repeated by all the rest. 
 
 "It is needless to go to the soldiers, for the sarechsme tells 
 the truth. Let us return to the defterdar ; he must and shall 
 pay us ! " 
 
 The revolting soldiers surged on up the street. Moham- 
 med, however, returned to his solitary apartments with a 
 clearer brow and a more derisive smile on his lips : 
 
 " This was well done, and can tend only to my advantage. 
 Taher Pacha will not be much pleased, either, when his soldiers 
 tell him of the presents made by me to mine. The waves are 
 surging higher and higher, but I see the boat in which I am to 
 ride over them safely. The golden oars only are wanting, 
 but I shall find them, too !"
 
 MONEY! PAY! 389 
 
 He called the Nubian, and commanded him to tell his him 
 bashis he desired to see them. And when they came he con- 
 versed with them for a long time, and gave them his orders. 
 The soldiers were to remain quietly in their quarters, and not 
 to mingle with the revolters. 
 
 " Wait quietly for three hours, and, if you receive no mes- 
 sage from me by that time, him bashis, you may allow the 
 soldiers to go out and satisfy their curiosity. Now go and 
 wait until then." 
 
 The insurgents had again repaired to the house of the def- 
 terdar, situated on the square of the Esbekieh. 
 
 For the second time they fiercely demanded money, and 
 called for the defterdar with such savage cries that he was 
 compelled to show himself. 
 
 Deathly pale, and trembling in every limb, he came out 
 upon the balcony of the second story, bowed in every direc- 
 tion, and begged the soldiers to listen to him. The uproar 
 subsided for a moment. He entreated them to be patient for 
 a, few days, promising to procure money for them, to have it 
 brought from Alexandria to meet their just demands. 
 
 ''No I" cried one of the soldiers, raising his fist threaten- 
 ingly, " we have waited long enough, and will wait no longer ! 
 We are hungry. Pay us ! " 
 
 " No ! " cried another, " we will wait no longer ! If the 
 defterdar does not pay up we will tear him to pieces, and pay 
 ourselves with his flesh ! " 
 
 " Let us surround his house, and keep him prisoner until 
 he gives us our pay ! " yelled the soldiers, as they scaled the 
 garden-wall and surrounded the house. 
 
 The terrified defterdar sent a messenger through a secret 
 passage into the street, to convey intelligence of what had 
 happened to the viceroy. 
 
 ''Have pity on your defterdar, highness. The soldiers 
 have broken into his house, and he is in their power. Help 
 me ! Subdue the revolt by paying the soldiers ! " 
 
 Cousrouf received this intelligence with wrath. 
 
 " Are all the devils let loose ? Hardly have I been com- 
 pelled to liberate this insolent woman, when I am defied by 
 rebellious soldiers. They shall be taught that I am master.
 
 390 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 and that to threaten me is to destroy themselves. Let the 
 artillerists stand by their guns, with burning fuses, and await 
 my orders ! Let the soldiers be drawn up around the fortress 
 with loaded muskets ! And you, messenger, go back to your 
 master, and tell him to send the rebels to me. I will give 
 them the reception they deserve. " 
 
 The messenger returned by the same secret passage to his 
 master, and delivered the viceroy's message, and the delighted 
 defterdar presented himself on the balcony once more. 
 
 " Go to the citadel, to the viceroy, he will receive you, and 
 give you your money ; I have none ! " 
 
 u Allah il Allah ! " cried the soldiers. " The viceroy is a 
 great man ! He will deal justly with us ! " 
 
 The dense masses of rebels surged up the Muskj Street to- 
 ward the citadel. They have reached their destination. There 
 stands the citadel. But what does this mean ? The gates are 
 closed. u The viceroy has sent for us ; we wish to see him to 
 demand our pay ! " Suddenly the guns of the fortress hurl 
 their deadly contents among them. " We are betrayed I 
 They are murdering us ! " yell the infuriated rebels, drawing 
 their ataghans, and rushing upon the Turkish soldiers who 
 are endeavoring to drive them from the citadel, fighting them 
 man to man. And now the three hours have elapsed, and 
 new masses of soldiers are storming up the height ' These are 
 Mohammed Ali's troops, now let loose ! Like the others, they 
 clamor for pay, and, like the others, they rush upon the Turk- 
 ish soldiers. The revolt is now general. 
 
 Taher Pacha, as well as Mohammed Ali, hears it ; but the 
 latter remains quietly in his room. Taher Pacha, less discreet, 
 hastens forth to suppress, or, if the prospect seems favorable, 
 to encourage the revolt. He repairs to the citadel and sends 
 the viceroy word that he desires an audience. 
 
 " Tell his highness I wish to restore the city to tranquillity ; 
 and, if possible, appease the soldiers." 
 
 The messenger soon returns with a dejected look. "It is 
 in vain, general, in vain ! His highness desires no peaceful 
 settlement. He says he will make no compromise with rebels ! 
 You are to return to your house ; he says he can dispose of 
 these rebels without any assistance ! "
 
 MONEY! PAY! 391 
 
 " Is that his opinion ? " asked Taher, bowing profoundly, 
 " The wisdom of the viceroy is inscrutable. I retire, as he 
 commands." 
 
 He hastily quitted the apartment, went down to his soldiers 
 and called his bim bashis to his side. 
 
 " I was with his highness, and endeavored to settle this dif- 
 ficulty without further bloodshed. But he declined, and said 
 there could be no settlement between you and him except at 
 the cannon's mouth, and that he would pay you with your 
 own blood ! '' 
 
 The soldiers answered their general's words with a fierce 
 roar ; when this at last subsided, he continued : " The viceroy 
 says the defterdar is to pay you that you must look to him. 
 Let us do so, soldiers ! Let us compel him to pay ! " 
 
 " Yes, he shall pay us ! " cried they ; and the wild masses 
 again rushed to the house of the defterdar. 
 
 The closed gates are torn asunder ; and Taher Pacha's Ar- 
 menians and Mohammed Ali's Albanians run with savage 
 cries into the house. 
 
 " I have no money ! " cries the defterdar, with pale, trem- 
 bling lips. 
 
 " Where are your books, your accounts ? We will take 
 you, together with your books, to our general." 
 
 " Do so, do so ! " groaned the defterdar, pointing to his 
 books. " Take me, with my books, to Taher Pacha." 
 
 Onward the wild mass surged with their prisoner and his 
 accounts. 
 
 They passed the house of Mohammed Ali, who stood at the 
 window, and looked down at them with a smile of satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 " The revolt is firmly established ; Taher Pacha is at its 
 head, and we shall see how he conducts the matter."
 
 392 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE INSURRECTION. 
 
 FROM the citadel the thunder of the artillery and the fierce 
 shouts of the people still resounded. Mohammed heard the up- 
 roar throughout the entire night. The soldiers continually 
 pressed forward to replace their comrades shot down by the 
 murderous volleys from the fortress. 
 
 Mohammed remained quietly in his house. True, his sol- 
 diers have joined the rebels, but who can hold him responsible, 
 and why should he expose himself to the danger of being re- 
 fused obedience should he demand it of them ? 
 
 Taher Pacha thinks differently. During the night he 
 had examined the books of the defterdar, held a prisoner in 
 his house, and had been compelled to admit that he was inno- 
 cent, and had no money with which to pay off the soldiers. 
 
 On the following morning he announced to his soldiers 
 that the defterdar was innocent, and the viceroy alone guilty. 
 He had accumulated and possessed money and treasure, and 
 could pay the soldiers if he would. He had, however, deter- 
 mined to keep for himself all the money sent from Stamboul 
 for the troops. 
 
 The intelligence rapidly spreads among the soldiers that 
 Cousrouf has money, and can pay if he will. 
 
 " And pay he shall ! " cries Taher Pacha. " I will march 
 with you into his stronghold. Woe to him ; he has begun 
 this work of slaughter, and must take the consequences ! " 
 
 The gates are closed and barred. What care the soldiers, 
 encouraged by their general's approach, for that ? " The walls 
 can be scaled ! " No sooner said than done. Like cats, the 
 first climb over the high wall, and the rest follow. The 
 guards within are overpowered, and the gates are thrown 
 open. And now all rush in intent on victory, and, above 
 all, on obtaining money. 
 
 The viceroy's khaznadar advances to meet them with a 
 body of soldiers. Taher Pacha calls on him to surrender. 
 The coward obeys, and lays down his arms. Cousrouf sits
 
 THE INSURRECTION. 393 
 
 quietly in his apartment, little dreaming of what has taken 
 place. 
 
 ' Let them fight on ; in a short time these rebels and trai- 
 tors will yield, and sue for mercy. I will have their heads 
 severed from their bodies, and sent to Stamboul as trophies of 
 victory ! " 
 
 But what does this strange noise mean ? 
 
 A volley resounds from beneath Cousrouf's windows. 
 
 A Nubian rushes into his apartment, and announces, in. 
 tones of dismay : " You are betrayed, the khaznadar has sur- 
 rendered, and the rebels are storming the palace." 
 
 Cousrouf bounds from his seat, hurls from him his chi- 
 bouque, and quickly girds on his sword. 
 
 " We will hurl them back. Let Mohammed Ali come with 
 his troops. He will vanquish them and overthrow the traitor, 
 Taher Pacha. Right royally shall Mohammed Ali be reward- 
 ed if he comes to my assistance ; and come he will. He is at 
 least no traitor, and will never make common cause with reb- 
 els. You, my Nubians, my body-guard, my brave followers, 
 ascend to the battlement and turn the guns upon the rebels 
 who surround us." 
 
 They obey his command, and their guns are soon thunder- 
 ing down into the ranks of the rebels. 
 
 Mohammed does not come to the viceroy's assistance ; he 
 is ill, and has been confined to his room ever since Taher Pa- 
 cha has been besieging the citadel with his soldiers. Nor will 
 his illness permit him to leave the house now, and his servant 
 announces to all comers and to the soldiers that the sarechsme 
 is very, very ill. 
 
 After two days have elapsed, he asks the physician, who is 
 feeling his pulse, in a weak voice and with an air of indiffer- 
 ence, how matters are progressing at the citadel ; whether the 
 traitor, Taher Pacha, still presumes to besiege the viceroy in 
 his palace, and laments his inability to fly to his master's as- 
 sistance with his troops. When the physician tells him that 
 the rebels had stormed the citadel, and that Cousrouf had fled, 
 Mohammed shudders and sinks back upon his couch. Truly, 
 he is very ill ! How could this intelligence otherwise have so 
 fearful an effect ? 
 26
 
 394 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Yes, Cousrouf has fled ; he hoped for your assistance in 
 vain, and was compelled to yield when it did not come. Yes, 
 sarechsme, he fled secretly through the back gate of the 
 citadel into the desert with his faithful body-guard and his 
 women." 
 
 " And Taher Pacha ? " asks Mohammed, eagerly. 
 
 " Taher Pacha has proclaimed himself caimacan. On my 
 way here I met the cadi of the sheiks going to the citadel to 
 present the robe of fur to the caimacan, in token of their rec- 
 ognition." 
 
 Loud and derisive laughter resounds from Mohammed Ali's 
 lips. 
 
 " Really the sarechsme is very ill, and in a fearful state of 
 excitement ! His head may be affected by it. It may become 
 dangerous." 
 
 The physician prescribes cooling applications for his head, 
 -and goes in person to superintend their preparation. 
 
 The door has hardly closed behind the physician, when 
 Mohammed bounds from his bed. 
 
 "Now I am no longer ill ! The time for action has 
 come ! " 
 
 He calls one of his Nubian slaves. 
 
 " Hasten, my Saneb hasten to the camp of the Mameluke 
 beys. You will find them near Petresin, on the banks of the 
 Nile. Seek Osman Bey Bardissi, and say to him : ' The time 
 has come ; await, beside the great Pyramid at Gheezeh, him 
 with whom you conversed there two weeks since ; await him 
 there with all his forces.' Have you understood me ? Repeat 
 my words." 
 
 The Nubian repeated what he had said, word for word. 
 
 " And now hasten away, time is precious, and my message 
 is important." 
 
 Hardly had the Nubian departed, when messengers carae- 
 to summon Mohammed to the citadel, to Taher Pacha, the new 
 caimacan. With a profound bow, Mohammed replies that he 
 will immediately do himself the honor of waiting on the caima- 
 can. 
 
 He calls his servants to his assistance, and puts on his gala 
 uniform, mounts his splendidly-caparisoned steed, and, fol-
 
 THE INSURRECTION. 395 
 
 lowed by a small body-guard of eight men, gallops through 
 the streets to the citadel. 
 
 Taher Pacha, reclining on Cousrouf s cushions and smok- 
 ing his chibouque, receives Mohammed with lively manifesta- 
 tions of delight. 
 
 " See what a man can make of himself, Mohammed ? Here 
 I lie, smoking Cousrouf 's chibouque on Cousrouf 's cushions ! " 
 
 " I congratulate you on your magnificence, and hope you 
 may long repose there." 
 
 "It is to be hoped that I shall," replied Taher Pacha. 
 " Fortune smiles on the daring. Had you been bold enough, 
 you might now be in my place, Mohammed Ali; but you 
 probably shrank from incurring the risk. I acted boldly, you 
 perceive, and mine is now the viceroy's crown. Why did you 
 not grasp it ? you needed but to stretch forth your hand." 
 
 "And you did grasp it. Allah was gracious to you. I 
 dared not ; it seemed too far from me. And then, I admit, my 
 head is too small for so heavy an ornament ! " 
 
 "I feel strong enough to bear this burden," said Taher, 
 laughing, " and now that I have it, I shall also know how to 
 secure myself in its possession. All Cairo already recognizes 
 me in my new dignity, and your recognition is now alone 
 wanting, Mohammed Ali." 
 
 " I bow in all humility before the caimacan, and shall alsa 
 recognize him as viceroy as soon as an answer is received 
 from Stamboul." 
 
 Taher smiled graciously. " And now receive my first in- 
 structions, sarechsme. Send messengers to the Mameluke 
 beys, I desire to make peace with them ; I wish them to be my 
 friends. We have had bloodshed enough. United with the 
 Mamelukes, we shall be able to defy our Turkish enemies." 
 
 41 1 am of the same opinion," replied Mohammed, bowing 
 profoundly. 
 
 " Then carry out my instructions at once." 
 
 "Your command shall be obeyed without delay," replied 
 Mohammed, as he turned and left the apartment. 
 
 " He does not know what he is doing. It would have been 
 dangerous for me to send a messenger to the Mamelukes. 
 Now, in his assumed authority, he empowers me to do what
 
 396 M01IAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 I have long since done in my own interests. O Taher Pacha, 
 you think yourself entitled to the throne because you have 
 scaled the walls of the citadel; you are, however, grievously 
 mistaken." 
 
 After three days the messenger reached the hardissi's camp, 
 and delivered Mohammed's message. 
 
 Osman Bardissi shouted with delight. "The sarechsme 
 keeps his word, and is about to unite with us. Come, ye 
 Mamelukes, let us march to Gheezeh to meet our ally." 
 
 On the third day of their march the Mamelukes reach 
 their destination, and encamp on the banks of the Nile, near 
 Gheezeh. 
 
 Early on the following morning an officer in a glittering 
 uniform rides into the Mameluke camp, accompanied by a 
 small body-guard. Bardissi recognizes the officer and joyous- 
 ly greets him, and Sheik Arnhyn, who rides at his side. 
 
 "There comes the brave sarechsme, Mohammed Ali; he 
 keeps his word, and comes to unite his forces with ours." 
 
 "A hearty welcome, Mohammed Ali; a hearty welcome 
 from me, and from all of us ! " 
 
 "A warm greeting to you, Bardissi!" cried Mohammed, 
 extending his hand. 
 
 There they stood, hand-in-hand, gazing at each other 
 thoughtfully and earnestly. The others had respectfully 
 withdrawn. 
 
 "We are both thinking of the past, Osman Bey," said 
 Mohammed, with a soft smile. " You see I have not forgot- 
 ten the name you impressed on my memory at Ca valla." 
 
 "Nor have I forgotten your name, Mohammed Ali," re- 
 plied Bardissi. " The boys who defied each other at Cavalla 
 have become men, and friends, too, have they not, Moham- 
 med?" 
 
 " Yes, friends, too, I hope, Bardissi ; and I press your hand 
 in token of my friendship." 
 
 " And I yours. I am your friend, and welcome you hearti- 
 ly to our camp. But where are your forces ? We have 
 assembled here to meet them ; are they not coming ? " 
 
 "They will soon come," replied Mohammed ; "my army 
 awaits my orders. I have hastened here in the mean while
 
 THE INSURRECTION. 397 
 
 to tell you that I am your faithful friend and ally. Great 
 events have taken place in Cairo, and others are now impend- 
 ing. Wait a short time, and I shall probably be able to bring 
 you the troops of the new caimacan, Taher Pacha, as well a& 
 my own. The caimacan wishes your friendship and alliance,, 
 and sends me as his messenger. But, as I have already said, I 
 advise you to wait. The caimacan's rule is an overbearing 
 one, and strange events are about to take place in Cairo. I 
 do not wish to take part in them, and have therefore come 
 here with a small escort. My soldiers are encamped near 
 Cairo, and await my orders to march here. I came alone to 
 prove that I trust you, and, with your permission, will remain 
 here with you a few days. " 
 
 " That was nobly thought and nobly done, Mohammed ; 
 you honor us more by coming alone than if you had come 
 with all your forces," cried Bardissi, as he embraced Moham- 
 med. 
 
 u Now you are mine, Mohammed, and I love you with all 
 my heart. United with you, my hero, we can defy all the 
 Turks that may be sent over from Stamboul." 
 
 Mohammed was right ; strange events soon occurred in 
 the palace of the caimacan at Cairo. The revolt which he 
 had helped to excite had not yet subsided. He had turned 
 the wild herd loose, but was now unable to manage it. The 
 soldiers demanded their pay of the caimacan as savagely as 
 they had demanded it of Cousrouf. 
 
 But where was the necessary money to be obtained ? 
 Money was the pretext on which he began the revolt, and 
 now he finds himself enthroned in the palace as caimacan 
 with empty coffers, Cousrouf having taken with him what- 
 ever treasure he possessed. He had invoked curses upon him- 
 self by endeavoring to procure money by force and extortion. 
 What had become of the promises solemnly made to the peo- 
 ple by the caimacan on the first day of his rule ? 
 
 *' Peace and quiet shall prevail in the land, and happiness 
 be the portion of the much-tormented inhabitants of Cairo." 
 
 Instead of peace, he has brought upon them new discord 
 and revolt ; instead of happiness, new misery. 
 
 In order to appease the wrath of his soldierc, he caused a
 
 398 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 number of tbe leading citizens to be arrested, and, upon their 
 refusal to pay the money demanded of them, several of them 
 were stretched on the rack, and others beheaded. 
 
 Finally, nothing remained to the new caimacan but to do 
 as Cousrouf had done, and meet the demands of his soldiers 
 with the statement that he had no money, and could not pay 
 them. 
 
 The savage cry of the soldiery for pay was renewed in 
 front of the citadel day after day with increased fierceness, 
 and at last the two bim bashis, Moussa and Ismail Aga, were 
 sent up to the citadel to the caimacan to make a final appeal 
 for pay on the part of the soldiers. 
 
 He received them with a proud, gloomy look, asked why 
 they came, and how these rebellious soldiers dare approach 
 him in such a manner. They bowed their heads, and, as they 
 approached the caimacan, entreated him in humble tones to 
 satisfy the just demands of the soldiers. They conjured him 
 to do so for the sake of peace, and for his own sake. The sol- 
 diers were in a highly excited state, and disposed to adopt ex- 
 treme measures. 
 
 " To adopt extreme measures ! " cried Taher. " How dare 
 you address such words to me ? " 
 
 " We have been sent to you by the troops, highness, and 
 must act according to our instructions. Once more, we im- 
 plore you to pay the soldiers ! " 
 
 "And once more I repeat to you that I neither can nor 
 will pay them ! " cried Taher, furiously. " If the traitors dare 
 to threaten me, I will lay their heads at their feet ! " 
 
 " Then we had best begin with you ! " cried the bim bashis, 
 rushing upon him, and running him through with their ata- 
 ghans. They then severed the head from the body, opened a 
 window, and hurled it down to the soldiers, who received it 
 with shouts of delight, and then rushed into the palace. 
 
 The caimacan's faithful Armenians threw themselves in 
 their way, and a murderous conflict arose on the stairway, 
 and in all the halls and apartments of the palace. The con- 
 flict extended to all the streets of the city, and the work of 
 slaughter was carried on all over Cairo. 
 
 Taher Pacha is dead, murdered ! The magnificence of the
 
 THE INSURRECTION. 399. 
 
 new caimacan is at an end after a rule of scarcely twenty 
 days. The intelligence reaches Gheezeh, where the Mame- 
 lukes are encamped, and where the sarechsme Mohammed Ali 
 is sojourning. He smiles as he hears it. 
 
 "I told you to wait. But now I say, let us hasten to 
 Cairo ! Let messengers be sent to my troops, instructing 
 them to march out to meet us, and the Armenians will, I 
 think, also join us. The time has come. Let us hasten to- 
 Cairo, ye Mameluke beys ! '' 
 
 The camp resounds with shouts of delight, and the Mame- 
 luke beys mount their steeds, and place themselves at the 
 head of their followers to begin the march. 
 
 Mohammed Ali also mounts his horse, but, before he turns, 
 glances around, and sees the Bedouin sheik Arnhyn, who is 
 about to mount his dromedary, and calls him to his side. 
 
 " Well, Arnhyn, your dromedary is here, but I miss your 
 daughter in the palanquin ! " 
 
 "She is at home in the tent awaiting my return, sa- 
 rechsme ! " 
 
 "In her father's tent, still?" said Mohammed, smiling. 
 " She has not yet followed to his tent him who has kissed her, 
 and made her his wife ? " 
 
 " No, sarechsme, she is still in her father's tent, and there, 
 she says, she will remain. Many fine young men have wooed 
 her, for she has been made rich by the spoils her father gath- 
 ered on the plain of Damanhour. Yes, Arnhyn will give his 
 daughter a rich dowry, and there are wooers enough. But 
 Butheita is a strange child ! When a handsome suitor comes, 
 and I beg her to follow him to his tent, she shakes her head, 
 rejects his gifts, and laughs at his sweet words. 'You are 
 ugly ! ' says she, laughing. ' I will love only the handsomest 
 of men, and him only will I follow to his tent.' That is what 
 Butheita says, sarechsme ! " 
 
 "And that is what she should say," replied Mohammed, 
 smiling. " Bear a greeting to Butheita from me, when you 
 return home, sheik, and tell her she is right in waiting until 
 he comes whom she will gladly follow to his tent, and wha 
 may kiss her. Tell her to wait patiently, for Allah will surely 
 send her the man she can love. Greet Butheita for me."
 
 400 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 He mounts his horse, and gallops off to where the Mame- 
 luke beys are awaiting him in order to begin their march to 
 Cairo. 
 
 The Mameluke beys and Mohammed Ali enter Cairo in 
 triumph. Taher Pacha's Armenians have joined him, and, 
 together with his Albanians, they form a magnificent corps. 
 The delighted people of Cairo cry out to Mohammed: "Oh, 
 give us peace, brave sarechsme ! Let the day of peace at last 
 dawn over unhappy Cairo ! " 
 
 Mohammed had conferred with the leaders of the Arme- 
 nians, and, with their consent, the citadel was tendered the 
 Mameluke beys as a residence. They joyfully accepted it, and 
 proudly took" up their abode in the fortress. 
 
 Mohammed Ali, however, returned to his own house, and 
 when he had reached the retirement of his apartment, and no 
 one could see, he raised his arm threateningly in the direction 
 of the citadel. 
 
 " You are in my residence, ye Mamelukes," muttered he. 
 *' You are now the masters of Cairo, but I swear that I will 
 drive you out of my palace, as I drove out the viceroy, Cous- 
 rouf Pacha. I am awaiting my time. It has not yet come, 
 but I now know that it will come ! " 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 VENGEANCE AT LAST. 
 
 THE Mamelukes, so often driven from Cairo, are once more 
 enthroned in the citadel. Cairo reposes, and hopes for a long 
 period of peace. 
 
 And it really seemed that peace had entered the city with 
 the Mamelukes and Osman Bey. The citizens could once more 
 pursue their daily avocations in tranquillity, and bands of dis- 
 orderly soldiers no longer roamed about in the neighborhood, 
 destroying and plundering. 
 
 Perhaps the wounds inflicted on the people by so many 
 <cruel wars would have time to heal. But no, their hopes are
 
 VENGEANCE AT LAST. 401 
 
 vain. In Cairo there is peace, for Ismail Bey, the oldest and 
 wisest of the Mamelukes, sits enthroned in the citadel, and 
 with him Bardissi, whom Mohammed Ali calls his friend. 
 
 In Cairo there is peace, for the Albanians and Armenians 
 are under subjection to their sarechsme, Mohammed Ali. 
 But, without, war raises its bloody head, and threatens Egypt 
 with new misery. 
 
 Is not Cousrouf Pacha, the former viceroy, still in the 
 country ? Has he not fled to Upper Egypt ? Have not his 
 troops followed him there, and has not his reputation drawn 
 many to his standard ? And are there not many who refuse 
 to submit to the Mameluke rule, and remain faithful to the 
 flag of their master, Cousrouf Pacha, the Viceroy of Egypt ? 
 
 No sooner had Cousrouf heard of the death of Taher Pacha 
 than he started from Damietta, where he had lain encamped 
 with his army, to return to Cairo and resume his authority. 
 
 Mohammed, informed of this advance, consulted Bardissi, 
 and it was agreed that their united forces should march out to 
 meet the enemy, Hassan Bey being first sent out with a body 
 of Arabian cavalry to feel the enemy's lines. 
 
 With united forces they now marched out, Mohammed Ali 
 and the beys, his former enemies, side by side ; the Albanians, 
 Ottomans, and Armenians, were in front; behind them came 
 the Mamelukes and Bedouins. 
 
 In the mean while, Cousrouf had advanced victoriously. 
 He had driven Hassan Bey before him, and had stormed the 
 village of Fareskour, in which the bey had fortified himself. 
 The inhabitants were slain, and the houses sacked and de- 
 stroyed by Cousrouf s soldiers. 
 
 After this victory, the advance on Cairo seemed easier. 
 Cousrouf, however, preferred to retreat to Damietta, having 
 learned that a larger force was advancing to meet him. Has- 
 san Bey had returned by hurried marches to Cairo, and de- 
 manded re-enforcements, which were given him. With these, 
 he again advanced toward Damietta, followed by Mohammed 
 and Bardissi with their powerful columns. With great haste, 
 Cousrouf set about making Damietta strong enough to defy 
 the enemy. The walls were crowned with cannon, and two 
 guns were placed in position on the bridge that spans the Nile
 
 402 MOHAMMED ALT AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 canal, at Damietta. A plentiful supply of provisions and mu- 
 nitions of war was also accumulated in the fortress. 
 
 '' And now let us await the enemy. Allah and the right 
 are with us. The grand-sultan at Stamboul has appointed me 
 viceroy ; the rebels have driven me from Cairo, but my just 
 cause will lead me back in triumph ! " 
 
 In such terms did Cousrouf speak to his soldiers to encour- 
 age them to make a gallant defence of the fortress. 
 
 But Cousrouf's words excited little enthusiasm among his 
 followers ; the scouts sent out returned with the intelligence 
 that the enemy was approaching in immense force. 
 
 They were advancing along the Nile, Mohammed with the 
 infantry, Bardissi with the mounted troops. Now they were 
 separated from the enemy by the canal only, but Cousrouf s 
 cannon made impassible the one bridge that united the two 
 shores. 
 
 " Yet we must effect our passage to the other side," said 
 Bardissi. 
 
 " Yes, but the question is, how are we to do so ?" said Mo- 
 hammed. 
 
 All the bim bashis and boulouk bashis, together with the 
 beys and their kachefs, were called together in a council of 
 war. For a long time their deliberations were fruitless. How 
 were they to get over without boats or bridges ? 
 
 " We must ford it," said Mohammed Ali. " There must be 
 some place where we can venture to cross on foot. There are 
 shallow places in the canal, I have been told ; and, if some one 
 could be found willing x> incur the danger of making inquiries 
 on the other side, in Damietta, where they are better informed 
 on the subject, we might succeed in finding such a place.'' 
 
 "I will undertake this duty,'' said the kachef Youssouf, 
 stepping f rward. " I will go over to Damietta and obtain the 
 desired information." 
 
 "You are a brave man, Kachef Youssouf," said Bardissi, 
 "but consider that you risk your life, and perhaps in vain." 
 
 " I shall, however, die in the performance of my duty ! I 
 will go over and make the attempt ! " 
 
 " As you are ? And do you not suppose the first sentinel 
 on the walls of Damietta will shoot you down ? "
 
 VENGEANCE AT LAST. 403 
 
 " I shall not go as I am, Osman Bey. They will not be 
 able to recognize in me the kachef of Bardissi and of Sitta 
 Nefysseh." 
 
 And he was right. He was not recognized. Disguised as a 
 fellah, in the long blouse that hung down to his feet, entirely 
 unarmed, a plain brown cap on his head, and carrying, sus- 
 pended to a strap over his shoulder, a basket filled with water- 
 melons, Kachef Youssouf entered the fortress of Damietta on 
 the following morning. 
 
 He called out his fruit, and people hastened to him to pur- 
 chase. The kachef chatted gayly with them in the Arabian 
 tongue, and told them of the enemy who was approaching 
 but who could find no passage over the canal ; and Youssouf 
 laughed at and derided the enemy. 
 
 They quickly observed that he was a faithful servant of 
 the viceroy, and therefore chatted with him unreservedly. 
 Much was told the fellah of the want of the soldiers, and of 
 the longing of the people to see the war terminated. 
 
 " If they could only get over," said some of the people, with 
 a sigh. " There are shallow places, here and there, where a 
 passage would be easy. '' 
 
 Youssouf's manner was careless and indifferent, but noth- 
 ing escaped him. No one read in his countenance the fearful 
 danger to which he was exposed, and he passed the entire day 
 strolling around in Damietta. But, when night came, he 
 hastened to the canal, and tried the places casually mentioned 
 during the day. He finally attempted to cross over at the 
 place spoken of as the most shallow. 
 
 And he has succeeded ! There he stands on the other bank, 
 dripping with water, his wet blouse clinging to his person. 
 He hastened to the camp to Bardissi, to bring the glad intelli- 
 gence that there is a place where they can cross on foot to the 
 other shore in spite of the cannon on the bridge, and of the 
 garrison of Damietta. 
 
 " Well done, brave kachef !" cried Bardissi. "You have 
 deserved your reward, and you shall have it ! I appoint you 
 kachef of my guard, and give you a command of one hundred 
 Mamelukes." 
 
 Youssouf's countenance lighted up, and his eyes sparkled
 
 404 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 with delight. He thought of Sitta Nefysseh, and rejoiced in 
 his successful feat, and in his reward, because she would be 
 pleased. 
 
 " O Sitta Nefysseh, when I come into your presence, and 
 kneel down before you, will you receive me graciously, and 
 permit me to remain with you henceforth ? O Sitta Nefysseh, 
 if the time were only come when on bended knee I can say 
 to you : ' Your servant has returned, but he is no longer a 
 poor kachef ! He has won laurels because you commanded 
 him to seek them ! May he now serve you again ? ' Oh, that 
 I were with you again, Sitta Nefysseh ! " 
 
 On the following night they were conducted by Youssouf 
 to the place at which he had forded the canal. 
 
 The Mameluke beys dismount and step into the water. In 
 advance is Osman Bey, and beside him Mohammed Ali. The 
 passage must be effected noiselessly, so as not to attract the 
 attention of the enemy. 
 
 The water rushes past them, almost carrying their feet 
 from under them. It already reaches their shoulders, and 
 they can hardly retain their foothold. Kachef Youssouf 
 must have been deceived. A wave, driven by the night-wind, 
 rolls by and sweeps Mohammed with it. 
 
 Osman Bey sees his friend torn from his side, rushes after 
 him, grasps him with his strong arm, and holds him se- 
 curely. 
 
 "I thank you, Osman Bey; you have saved my life." 
 
 " And I thank Allah that I was at your side and could 
 save it." 
 
 Finally they succeed in getting over, and now they stand 
 on the other shore. Bardissi embraces Mohammed, and con- 
 gratulates him on their safe passage. He then grasps Yous- 
 souf 's hand, and thanks him once more. 
 
 "Now, good Cousrouf, the days of your rule are 
 numbered." 
 
 " Yes," murmured Mohammed to himself, '* I, too, rejoice 
 in your coming overthrow. O Allah, give us all victory, and 
 give me vengeance ! " 
 
 The passage of the troops is effected. The Albanians first 
 rush to the bridge where the cannon are in position, cut down
 
 VENGEANCE AT LAST. 495 
 
 the gunners before they can give an alarm, and with the cap- 
 tured guns fire their first shots into Damietta. 
 
 The thunder of these shots arouses the enemy, who lie 
 encamped in front of the fortress, and a bloody, fiercely- 
 contested battle begins. But at its conclusion the allies, 
 Bardissi and Mohammed Ali, enter Damietta in triumph.' 
 No quarter is given. They massacre all who fall into 
 their hands ; every house is sacked and then burned. On 
 the square in front of Fort Lesbe, a column of soldiers, 
 Cousrouf Pacha at its head, sitting proudly erect on his 
 steed, still opposes them. He has been bravely fighting 
 all along, fighting for life, for victory, for glory, but he has 
 fought in vain; he prefers, however, to die at the head of 
 his followers, than to flee, or fall into the hands of Moham- 
 med Ali. 
 
 The enemy approaches. A ball strikes Cousrouf's horse, 
 and it sinks to the ground. With difficulty he succeeds in 
 extricating himself from his fallen steed. 
 
 " Upon them, my brave soldiers ! " he cries, drawing his 
 ataghan. " Let us fight our way through to the fort. There 
 we shall be secure." 
 
 " You shall never reach it ! " exclaims Bardissi, his uplifted 
 sword descending upon Cousrouf's head. 
 
 Suddenly his arm is grasped, and held as in a vise. 
 
 " Give him to me, Bardissi ! " cries Mohammed. 
 
 " And you wish to save Cousrouf's life, Mohammed ? " 
 
 '* Only give him to me, Bardissi, I pray you ! " 
 
 Bardissi recognized in the tone in which these few words 
 were uttered, that Mohammed's motive in making his request 
 was not love for Cousrouf. 
 
 'You are my prisoner," cried Mohammed, tearing the 
 sword from Cousrouf's hand, and hurling it far from him. 
 He then grasped him by the shoulders and looked him firmly 
 in the eye. " Cousrouf Pacha, I, Mohammed Ali, make you 
 my prisoner." 
 
 Cousrouf makes no reply, but only gazes defiantly upon 
 his enemy ; gradually his head sinks down upon his breast. 
 Yes, he is vanquished and a prisoner, a prisoner of his worst 
 enemv. He could be in no worse hands than in those that
 
 406 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 now hold him. To become Mohammed All's prisoner was the 
 worst that could befall him. 
 
 And vanquished and captured he is, by this his most 
 relentless enemy ! With him are vanquished all his followers, 
 and nothing is left of the fortress of Damietta but ashes and 
 ruins. 
 
 The victors have decided to send Cousrouf a prisoner to 
 Cairo, to the citadel where he once sat enthroned. 
 
 Mohammed entered the apartment in a half-burned house 
 of Damietta in which Cousrouf was confined. None else is 
 in the room. Without, the sentinel is pacing to and fro, and 
 in an adjoining room lie two Nubian slaves who have re- 
 mained faithful to their master, wounded and exhausted by 
 loss of blood. 
 
 Cousrouf sees Mohammed enter, and a groan escapes his 
 breast ; involuntarily he carries his hand to his belt. He is 
 unarmed! He cannot hurl himself upon him, and in his 
 downfall destroy him also. 
 
 Mohammed stands before him, armed, his eyes fixed on 
 him in a hard, cruel gaze. Cousrouf feels this glance, and 
 knows that his enemy rejoices in his humiliation. For a long 
 time no word is spoken. At last Cousrouf raises his eyes and 
 endeavors to look his enemy in the face ; but he cannot. So 
 terrible, so threatening is his expression, that Cousrouf shud- 
 ders. It seems to him at this moment that an avenging angel 
 stands before him ; and the viceroy, usually so haughty and 
 overbearing, feels humiliated and helpless. 
 
 "Cousrouf Pacha," said Mohammed, after a long pause, 
 " look at me ! I have long worn a mask ; you placed it on my 
 countenance, and I allowed you to do so, and awaited my time. 
 Cousrouf Pacha, raise your eyes and look at me ! I no longer 
 wear a mask ! " 
 
 Cousrouf looked up at him, and now his glance was firm, 
 and his countenance composed. 
 
 " I see, Mohammed Ali, sarechsme by my grace, I see that 
 you now wear a mask. He who now stands before me is 
 hardly a human being, but the mere embodiment of hatred 
 envy and hatred personified." 
 
 " You mistake, Cousrouf," replied Mohammed in haughty
 
 VENGEANCE AT LAST. 407 
 
 tones. ''Not envy and hatred, but vengeance personified. 
 Cousrouf , I have awaited this hour for thirteen years. Am I 
 not to enjoy it now ? Do you think I would relinquish it for 
 all the wealth and power of the world ? " 
 
 " I know you would not," replied Cousrouf, quietly. " Yet 
 you would give all these thirteen years of falsehood and trick- 
 ery, of cunning flattery ; yes, you would give the miserable 
 triumph of this hour for a single smile of the slave to whom I 
 awarded merited punishment. Ah, Mohammed Ali, you 
 fancied yourself the victor. lam he! This your thirst for 
 vengeance proclaims. It tells me that the wound in your 
 heart still burns. And who gave you this wound ? I, Cous- 
 rouf Pacha, and therefore do you seek vengeance on me. 
 The wound still bleeds, and I am triumphant ! Yes, I am the 
 victor. You should see your own countenance at this 
 moment ; now, you are not vengeance and hatred, but misery, 
 personified. Let me in conclusion proclaim this : Masa is 
 dead, and I slew Masa. Slay me, her murderer. But dying, 
 I shall cry exultingly : ' Your wound still bleeds, and I am 
 victor ! Masa is dead, here stands her slayer, slay him ! ' " 
 
 For a moment Mohammed was silent ; a deathly pallor had 
 overspread his countenance, and his eyes gleamed fiercely. He 
 grasped the dagger in his girdle, drew it from its sheath, and 
 raised it high in his right hand. 
 
 Cousrouf gazed at him with a triumphant expression. 
 
 He wished for death, he longed for it after his fearful over- 
 throw. 
 
 Perhaps Mohammed read this in his glance. His arm sank 
 slowly to his side, and he replaced the dagger in its sheath. 
 
 "Cousrouf Pacha, you desire death, but you shall not die. 
 You shall live to learn that the wound in my heart no longer 
 bleeds ; that it is healed. If it were not so, by Allah, you, the 
 murderer of Masa. were already dead ! Do you hear me ? I 
 pronounce the name I have not spoken for many years, the 
 name Masa ! You were her murderer, not her judge ! You 
 were not her master, she was not your slave. Her death was 
 not lawful ; you could not condemn her, and therefore do I 
 call you a common murderer. I know that murderers are 
 slain, that blood is atoned for by blood. This punishment the
 
 408 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 heart dictates, and this punishment the law of the land pre- 
 scribes. But this punishment were too mild for you, (Jous- 
 rouf Pacha. I will not slay you ; you shall suffer shame and 
 humiliation ; you shall drink the cup of bitterness and dis- 
 grace to the very dregs. I will take you to Cairo, and there in 
 the citadel you shall await my last act of revenge." 
 
 " You threaten me," said Cousrouf, quietly. " What evil 
 can you add to that already inflicted ? I do not fear your 
 threat, and I shall not feel humiliated at being led a prisoner 
 into the citadel, where I once ruled your master, and where 
 Mohammed Ali, the sarechsme by my grace, so often 
 knelt in the dust before me. I have been vanquished in 
 honorable warfare, and in a just cause ; and though you, 
 the victor, triumph over, I shall still remain, your lawful 
 master ! '' 
 
 " Prove this to the people of Cairo ; see whether you will 
 be recognized as master there ; whether those who formerly 
 flattered you will now raise a finger to liberate you, or restore 
 you to the throne. And when you find that they will not, 
 then remember, Cousrouf Pacha that, too, is a part of Mo- 
 hammed Ali's revenge had I slain you, all your sufferings 
 would have been at an end ! But you shall live and suffer 
 for many a long year to come ! For Cousrouf Pacha caused 
 Mohammed Ali to suffer for long years. Then suffer, Cous- 
 rouf ; and, let me tell you, from this hour I shall suffer no 
 longer from this hour my wounds are healed, for your 
 wounds bleed. And now go to Cairo humiliated, covered 
 with disgrace, the prisoner of Mohammed Ali ! " 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE RETURN TO CAIRO. 
 
 JOY and exultation reign in Cairo. The united forces of 
 the Mamelukes, Albanians, and Armenians, have returned 
 home crowned with victory. Damietta and Rosetta have fall- 
 en, and the Turks have everywhere retreated ; a miserable
 
 THE RETURN TO CAIRO. 409 
 
 remnant only have found safety in Alexandria, where Cour- 
 schid Pacha rules. 
 
 The people throng the streets to witness the grand entrance 
 of the victorious troops. 
 
 There, at the head of four thousand Mamelukes, sur- 
 rounded by a body of beys and kachefs, comes Osman Bey 
 Bardissi, the hero of so many battles. How sparkling his eyes, 
 how radiant the smile with which he greets the populace that 
 hails him with shouts of enthusiasm ! 
 
 He passes by, and now come the Albanians and Armeni- 
 ans. At their head rides the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali ; 
 around him his him bashis, in their glittering uniforms. But 
 who is it that rides beside him on the splendidly-caparisoned 
 ass who is the man in the long green caftan, trimmed with 
 fur, the green turban on his head adorned with its glittering 
 crescent ? He is unarmed, and yet he rides beside the sa- 
 rechsme. His countenance is pale, and his lips are firmly 
 compressed, as if to keep back a cry of rage that struggles for 
 utterance. Who is this man? Can it be Cousrouf Pacha? 
 Yes, it is he, the viceroy, the prisoner given to Mohammed Ali 
 by Bardissi. In his magnanimity Mohammed had grasped 
 Bardissi's arm, uplifted for the deadly stroke, and had thus 
 saved his enemy's life. And now he generously allows the 
 man whose life he has saved to ride into Cairo at his side. 
 The people relate this to each other, and are loud in their 
 praises of the sarechsme's magnanimity. 
 
 Was it magnanimity? Ask Cousrouf, who feels that the 
 favor shown him by his enemy is worse than death, who feels 
 with anguish that he is merely an object of contempt, while 
 the air resounds with the people's enthusiastic greeting to the 
 accursed Mohammed Ali. Him the people had never saluted 
 thus ; upon his head the sheiks and cadis had never invoked 
 Allah's blessing. 
 
 Now the citadel looms up before them ; the sarechsme's 
 countenance is radiant ; smilingly he turns to Cousrouf. 
 
 " I take pleasure, highness, in conducting you to the citadel. 
 
 You iled in the darkness of night ; I conduct you back in the 
 
 broad light of day, and wish you a pleasant sojourn in your 
 
 palace. I regret, however, that you are not to reside there en- 
 
 27
 
 410 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 tirely alone. The great Mameluke Bey, Ismail, now resides 
 there, and but few apartments remain unoccupied. With 
 these few you will therefore have to content yourself." 
 
 u I should be contented with the smallest room, though it 
 lay beneath the earth, could I be spared your presence, trai- 
 tor ! " mutters Cousrouf. 
 
 " Spared my presence ! " cries Mohammed Ali. " Consider, 
 highness, that I alone am to amuse and entertain you. With 
 me alone can you converse, and recall fond recollections of 
 the past, and I shall therefore not fail to wait on your high- 
 ness right often. And now, highness, ride in advance and en- 
 ter the palace first, as the master should." 
 
 He draws rein as they reach the gateway, and gives the ass 
 on which Cousrouf is mounted a blow with the flat of his 
 sword, that causes it to rush into the court-yard with a succes- 
 sion of quick bounds. The soldiers standing around laugh 
 loudly. And this laughter makes Cousrouf's cheeks red with 
 shame, and sends tears to his eyes, tears of rage. 
 
 Several of Ismail Bey's Mamelukes now approach, and lift 
 Cousrouf from the saddle and lead him into the house. Mo- 
 hammed seems to have forgotten him ; let Ismail Bey take 
 care of him. To him Mohammed intrusts the keeping of his 
 prisoner. 
 
 " He belongs to me, Ismail, to me alone ; I only intrust my 
 prisoner to you for safe keeping." 
 
 He is conducted to the upper chambers of the citadel ; there 
 let his thoughts prey on the memory of her he murdered, and 
 of him who avenges her ! 
 
 The houses of Cairo are adorned with carpets and flowers, 
 and laughter and merry-making are the order of the day. 
 
 The house of Mourad's widow also shows signs of life with- 
 in, to-day. Sitta Nefysseh has returned to her home after a 
 long sojourn in the house of Sheik Sadat. The doors of her 
 house and the park-gate are again thrown open. Sitta Nefys- 
 seh is at home ; she sits behind the golden lattice-work of her 
 window and gazes out into the street. Why does her heart 
 throb so wildly? Is Sitta Nefysseh awaiting any one ? 
 
 A long array of richly-attired officers passes by. Sitta 
 Nefysseh gazes at them intently, her heart still throbbing
 
 THE RETURN TO CAIRO. 41 1 
 
 wildly. Suddenly she utters a low cry, and with closed eyes 
 reels back from the window. It is he yes, she has seen him, 
 the young Mameluke hey, galloping toward her house on his 
 proud steed, followed by a body of Mamelukes. She hears 
 him stop before the door, and she knows that he is coming. 
 
 Her countenance radiant with delight, she stands with out- 
 stretched arms, as she had stood when she last saw him, and^ 
 as then, she whispers : " I love him ! oh, I love him ! My 
 soul yearns for him ! I would clasp him in my arms, and yet 
 no, it may not be ! " murmurs she, interrupting herself and 
 letting her arms sink down to her side. " No, it may not, can- 
 not be ! They would kill him ! If Bardissi did not, L'Elfi 
 would ! And then my oath ! O Mourad, be with me in this 
 hour, that I may remain firm ! Be strong, my heart ! It may 
 not be ! " 
 
 The door opened, and a slave entered to announce that the 
 Mameluke bey, Youssouf, was waiting at the door with his 
 suite, and humbly begged that he might be permitted to see 
 Sitta Nefysseh. 
 
 " Let him enter," said she, making an effort to compose 
 herself. " Tell my women to go into the adjoining room, and 
 to open the door." 
 
 Poor woman's heart ! So strong in love, and yet so weak ! 
 These women and the open door were to stand guard over 
 her heart, and keep her from forgetting all else in his pres- 
 ence. 
 
 Now the door opens and Youssouf enters. It seems to her 
 that he has grown taller. His deeds have elevated him, and 
 his countenance is radiant with energy and courage. Yet he 
 kneels down before her, and kisses the hem of her robe. 
 
 " Sitta Nefysseh, you bade me go, and I went. Upon my 
 return, my first thoughts were of you. I wished to hear from 
 your sweet lips the word welcome ! Do you speak it. Sitta 
 Nefysseh ? " 
 
 " Welcome, Youssouf Bey ! How beautiful that sounds 
 Youssouf Bey ! But rise, it does not become the hero to bend 
 the knee before a woman, before Nefysseh." 
 
 " I was your slave when I went, now that I have returned 
 I am your slave still. And thus should he salute his mistress."
 
 412 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 He bends down lower and kisses the gold-embroidpred 
 slipper that clasps her little foot. 
 
 u Youssouf ! " she cried, in severe tones, '' I command you 
 to rise from your knees ! " 
 
 " You see, I obey you, as it beseems your slave to do," said 
 he, springing to his feet ; " and he now begs to be permitted to 
 enter your service again. " 
 
 " My service ? " said she, with an air of astonishment. 
 *' Mourad's widow is not so proud and not of such high 
 rank as to desire to have a troop of Mamelukes in her service. 
 You know I liberated all my Mamelukes at my husband's 
 death ; and how could I, who have so few servants about me, 
 dare to take a Mameluke bey into my service ? No, such 
 honor were too great for me. You, Youssouf Bey, must go 
 out into the world again. You will still accomplish many 
 great deeds, and do me honor. For, when your deeds are 
 spoken of, people will say : ' He was once a Mameluke with 
 Mourad Bey, and afterward the kachef of Sitta Nefysseh. It 
 was in Moui'ad's house that he grew up and became a hero.' 
 That suffices for me, and Sitta Nefysseh will rejoice in your 
 renown." 
 
 " Sitta Nefysseh ! " cried he, in tones of anguish, " you 
 drive me from you ! I have done as you commanded. I 
 went out to battle and did not seek death, because you had 
 forbidden me to do so, but fought like a lion, and earned a 
 name. Now that I have returned, you refuse to give me the 
 one reward I desire. While the bullets whistled about me. 
 amid the din of battle, I thought only of Sitta Nefysseh, who 
 would bid me welcome when I returned home, and restore to 
 me my place in her house. This was the only reward I 
 sought. And now you drive me from you ! " 
 
 She had listened to him in breathless suspense. It was 
 bliss to hear his words, yet her countenance must not betray 
 her. She slowly raised her eyes, and then gazed at him, long 
 and fixedly. 
 
 " Youssouf Bey," said she, " you cannot remain with me, 
 and though it may seem hard to you to-day, to-morrow you 
 will confess that it is impossible. Youssouf Bey was not cre- 
 ated for such purposes. He is a hero ! Without, your men
 
 THE RETURN TO CAIRO. 
 
 await you. Return to them. Those who imagine that peace 
 has entered the city with you are in error. There are still 
 many laurels to be earned by Youssouf Bey on the battle- 
 field. Go and gather them ! " 
 
 " They have no charms for me ; I desire only to look on 
 you, to love you, Sitta Nefysseh ! To remain with you and 
 dream of bliss, and perhaps " 
 
 " Be still ! " cried she, interrupting him. " Do you wish 
 my women to hear what your folly dictates ? Mourad's widow 
 commands you to be silent. Now you have terminated our 
 interview. Go, join your men ! " 
 
 ' Forgive me, Sitta, forgive me ! By Allah, I entreat you, 
 do not deal so severely with your poor Youssouf ! You are 
 lustrous, yet also cold like the diamond ! You know no 
 mercy ; for, alas, you know not love ! Yet, I conjure you, be 
 merciful ; do not drive me from you ; and I swear that I will 
 speak no more of love, but only serve you as your faithful 
 slave ! " 
 
 " Let us terminate this interview," said she, in a low voice. 
 " I shall remain convinced that you should not stay in my 
 house, and you will therefore go." 
 
 '' I must go ! " cried he, in despairing tones, " yet others 
 may approach you ! The great Bardissi will be welcome, and 
 L'Elfi may also come. They may speak to you of their love 
 and adoration, but me you command to depart ! " 
 
 " No, Youssouf," cried she, " to them I shall say, depart 
 also ! I swear by Allah and by my " 
 
 She stopped, she had almost pronounced the word that 
 trembled on her lips. " By my love," she had almost said, 
 yet, with quick command of herself, she added : 
 
 "By my honor, Bardissi and L'Elfi shall visit me no more ! 
 From this day the doors of my house are closed against all 
 men ; this I swear to you, Youssouf 1 " 
 
 " I cannot thank you for doing so," said Youssouf, sadly. 
 "If no man is to cross your threshold. I also am banished 
 from your presence, and I therefore rather entreat you to let 
 others visit you, in order that I too may come to you some- 
 times." 
 
 There was something so humble, so imploring in his voice
 
 414 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 and look, that Sitta Nefysseh's heart was touched against her 
 will. She could not do otherwise, she held out her hand and 
 gave him a kindly look. 
 
 '' I have sworn that no other man should cross my thresh- 
 old ; but you, Youssouf, you may come sometimes." 
 
 He starts, and gazes at her intently. Her voice sounds so 
 sweet, so changed, and his eyes sparkle with delight. 
 
 She quickly withdraws her hand and looks down. She 
 feels that she has betrayed herself for a moment, she feels the 
 ardent gaze that is fastened on her, and dares not look up, 
 for fear that he may read the love that is reflected in her 
 eyes. 
 
 " Farewell, Youssouf Bey ! I tell you, you may some- 
 times come, but farewell for the present." 
 
 She turns, and, without looking at him again, goes into 
 the other room, where her women are awaiting her. With a 
 quick movement she draws the curtain over the door ; she 
 knows that no one must see him at this moment ; she knows 
 he will fall on his knees and kiss the place where she stood. 
 Yes, she knows this, for she loves him, and understands his 
 heart. 
 
 And she is right ! He has fallen on his knees, and, again 
 and again, kisses the spot where she stood. Then he stretches 
 out his arms and opens his lips to utter a sweet word. Yet. 
 he does not pronounce it, for, if what he thinks be true, the 
 air itself may not hear it ! No, his lips utter no word ! He 
 only kisses the air she has breathed. And now can he go, for 
 she has said that he may return ! 
 
 He turns and leaves the house ; his soldiers have never 
 seen their kachef's countenance so radiant as now. He mounts 
 his horse, and gallops off through the streets, followed by his 
 Mamelukes. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh hears his horse's hoofs ring out against the 
 pavement, and, like him, she sinks down upon her knees, and 
 stretches out her arms. " Youssouf, I love you ! Allah be 
 praised, I have seen you again ! "
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND BARDISSI. 415 
 
 CHAPTEK XI. 
 
 MOHAMMED ALI AND BARDISSI. 
 
 SITTA NEFYSSEH was right : peace had not entered Cairo 
 with the victorious troops. War and turmoil prevailed every- 
 where, and the confusion became worse each day. 
 
 The Mamelukes now ruled once more in Cairo, and, with 
 them, Mohammed Ali, Bardissi's beloved friend. 
 
 Ismail Bey sat enthroned in the citadel, and was the out- 
 ward representative of the magnificence and grandeur of the 
 Mamelukes, but the real rulers were Bardissi and Mohammed 
 Ali. And these two found no pleasure in lying on soft cush- 
 ions, and speaking of the deeds of the past. They longed for 
 renewed activity, for new glory ! And, even if this had not 
 been the case, they would, nevertheless, have been compelled 
 to draw the sword again. For the Turks were marching out 
 from Alexandria, and many places in the south were still in 
 their hands. 
 
 Mohammed and Bardissi's united forces march out to a 
 succession of conflicts, ever returning to Cairo crowned with 
 victory. 
 
 Bardissi and Mohammed are united in love and friendship, 
 and, though the former seems to be the ruler, the latter reigns 
 in reality. The whole city is aware of this, and those who have 
 complaints to make, and seek redress, come not to Bardissi, 
 but to Mohammed Ali. To him, also, come the consuls of 
 other countries, of England and France, and have long and 
 protracted interviews with him. 
 
 The object of then- meetings is known to no one. Their 
 conferences are always private, and Bardissi learns of them 
 only what Mohammed chooses to tell him. " Does he tell 
 him the truth ? " 
 
 Bardissi is convinced that he does, and also convinced 
 that he and Mohammed are in perfect accord with each 
 other. 
 
 Ismail, the Mameluke chief, is of a different opinion, and 
 often warns the magnanimous Osman Bey Bardissi.
 
 416 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 "Be on your guard against Mohammed All; he has evil 
 designs. Be on your guard ! " 
 
 Bardissi shakes his head. " Do not attempt to rob me of 
 my friend, my second self. I love him, and I know that he 
 loves me ! " 
 
 " He will lead us all to destruction, if he can ! " said Ismail, 
 solemnly. "Mohammed Ali is not the faithful friend you 
 suppose him to be ! Unfortunately, the future will prove to 
 you that my warning was well founded." 
 
 Bardissi disregards the warning, and angrily affirms Mo- 
 hammed's fidelity. He can confide in his friend, and in the 
 wisdom of his counsel. And, as before, Bardissi continues to 
 follow Mohammed's advice in all things. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AGAINST THE MAMELUKES. 
 
 WHILE the Mameluke beys, Ismail and Bardissi, were vic- 
 torious at Cairo, L'Elfi Bey still lay with his followers at Nisi- 
 bis. There he ruled, and there his Mamelukes robbed, plun- 
 dered, and tyrannized over the inhabitants. 
 
 The governor, Courschid Pacha, was again firmly estab- 
 lished in Alexandria, where he was assembling new forces, 
 and preparing to march against Cairo and the Mamelukes, and 
 also against Mohammed Ali and his Albanians and Arme- 
 nians ; he only awaited the sultan's decision. He had sent to 
 Stamboul intelligence of all that had occurred of Cousrouf's 
 flight, and of his defeat and capture at Damietta. 
 
 " Who is now to be appointed viceroy ? " This was the 
 question to be decided at Stamboul. 
 
 "Do you command, O master, that our troops march 
 against Cairo to drive out the Mamelukes, and reinstate Cous- 
 rouf as viceroy ! Command, O master, and your servants will 
 obey!" 
 
 While the Turks were awaiting an answer from Stam- 
 boul, affairs in Cairo were becoming more and more com-
 
 AGAINST THE MAMELUKES. 
 
 plicated, and law and order no longer reigned there. The 
 Mamelukes were daily becoming more violent and overbear- 
 ing. They roamed through the city in bands, plundering and 
 burning, and the beys could no longer control them. Daily 
 the sufferings of the people became greater, and their hatred 
 of the lawless Mamelukes more intense. 
 
 Robbed and outraged as they were, they were, in addition, 
 continually being called on to pay new taxes to their detested 
 rulers. 
 
 The Mameluke beys, Bardissi and Ismail, need money, 
 need it more than ever. But where are they to get it ? The 
 question is a perplexing, a tormenting one, and with dismay 
 Bardissi submits it to his faithful friend and untiring adviser, 
 the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali. 
 
 And it was Mohammed who continually advised the impo- 
 sition of new taxes, and who was constantly engaged with 
 Bardissi in devising new means of raising money ; and the 
 imposition of each new burden was the signal for a new cry 
 of rage from the oppressed people. The soldiers, too, began to 
 murmur again, and to loudly demand their long-withheld 
 pay. 
 
 The Albanians and Armenians, subject to Mohammed Ali, 
 were held by him in severe discipline. He did not allow his 
 soldiers to make thieves and robbers of themselves. He 
 threatened with instant death all who should be caught in the 
 act. They, however, clamored all the more loudly for pay. 
 
 Mohammed listened to them quietly, and seemed to be 
 touched by their complaints. "But," said he, sadly, "it does 
 not rest with me to pay you, neither can I do so. I am poor 
 myself ; I have nothing to live on but my pay, and that is 
 withheld from me also. I therefore have, unfortunately, 
 nothing to give my soldiers. Only the chiefs, Ismail or Bar- 
 dissi, can give you your pay." 
 
 His soldiers have understood him. They salute their sa- 
 rechsme, go away, and say nothing. 
 
 Mohammed well knows where the swarm of soldiers that 
 had stood before his house have now gone, led by their bim 
 bashis. 
 
 They rush, their numbers increasing on the way, to the
 
 418 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 house where Bardissi resides. With loud cries they demand 
 to speak with Bardissi himself. 
 
 He appears, and asks why they have come. The vestibule 
 of the palace is already crowded with soldiers, and new masses 
 are continually pouring into the court-yard. In reply to Bar- 
 dissi's question, they all cry loudly : "We have come for our 
 pay ! We want money ! We are hungry ! We want our 
 pay, our money ! " 
 
 "Go back to your quarters, and remain there, quietly!" 
 cries Bardissi. "In two days you shall have your pay. 
 Go!" 
 
 " We will wait no longer ! " cries a bim bashi, and they all 
 cry after him : " We want our money ! We will not leave 
 here until we are paid ! " 
 
 They press farther and farther into the house, more and 
 more fiercely demanding their pay. Suddenly, a loud, firm 
 voice resounds from the court-yard : 
 
 " What does this mean, soldiers ? What are you doing 
 here ? How dare you force your way into the palace of the 
 chief?" 
 
 A smile lights up Bardissi's countenance. This is his 
 friend Mohammed Ali. He will extricate him from his em- 
 barrassing position. 
 
 Yes, it is he, the sarechsme, at whose approach the men 
 respectfully fall back and make room. He enters the palace 
 and hastens to Bardissi. 
 
 u Oh, forgive me ! I knew not that my soldiers had dared to 
 come here. They also came to me and demanded their pay ; 
 I had none to give them, yet I had no idea they would go so 
 far as to annoy you personally." 
 
 Bardissi makes no reply. He only looks at his friend, and 
 grasps his hand warmly. 
 
 " I thank you, Mohammed, for having come." 
 
 " It is my duty, Bardissi," replies he, loud enough to be un- 
 derstood by all his soldiers. " Yes, it is the duty of the sa- 
 rechsme to be identified with his soldiers ; and if, impelled by 
 their want, they went too far, I beg for their forgiveness ; but 
 I also beg that justice be done them ; and their demands are 
 just. They are in great want, for I have forbidden them to
 
 AGAINST THE MAMELUKES. 419 
 
 rob and plunder. They have long waited patiently for their 
 pay. But 1 beg you to give it them now, Bardissi." 
 
 The soldiers who had heard all, cried loudly : " Long live 
 our sarechsme ! Long live Bardissi, our chief ! " 
 
 "Believe me, soldiers, he will give you your pay ! Will 
 you not, Bardissi ? " 
 
 " Yes, sarechsme, your soldiers shall receive their pay. I 
 give you my word, they shall be paid to-morrow. Come to 
 the citadel, to my defterdar to-morrow morning, and he will 
 pay you." 
 
 " You have heard it, soldiers : you are to be paid to-mor- 
 row. And now go ! " 
 
 But no one moved ; they stood still, grumbling in low 
 tones. 
 
 "What," cried the sarechsme, with sparkling eyes, "you 
 dare to remain when I have told you to go ! Do you distrust 
 the promise of Osman Bey Bardissi, and of your general 'J 
 Go, I tell you ! You are to be paid to-morrow. Therefore, go 
 and wait !" 
 
 They no longer dare to defy, and quietly withdraw. 
 
 Bardissi grasps his friend's hand again. "I thank you. 
 You have freed me from much embarrassment ; you have 
 done me a great service. But I beg you to lend me your 
 kindly assistance still further. Tell me where am I to get the 
 money with which to pay the soldiers to-morrow ? " 
 
 " To-morrow ? Why trouble yourself about to-morrow ? 
 I will endeavor to keep the soldiers quiet for a few days, and, 
 in the meanwhile, we will devise new plans for raising 
 money. I know of one means that I have often thought of." 
 
 " Name it, my friend 1 " 
 
 " It is dangerous." 
 
 " Name it, nevertheless. No matter about the danger, pro- 
 vided I raise money." 
 
 " Well, then," said Mohammed, deliberately, " it seems un- 
 just to me that our people should bear the burden of taxation 
 alone ! Why should not a tax be imposed on the Franks and 
 Levantines also ? " 
 
 " On the foreigner ? " said Bardissi, with a start. " That 
 has never been done, that I am aware of."
 
 420 MOHAMMED ALI AiYD His HOUSE. 
 
 " Then let it be done now for the first time. They have 
 been allowed to accumulate wealth here, without bearing any 
 of the burdens of government." 
 
 " You are right : it should be done. My defterdar shall 
 take the necessary steps at once. The Levantines and Franks 
 shall be made to pay this very day, and your soldiers shall 
 have the money." 
 
 Bardissi hastily departed to give the necessary instruc- 
 tions. 
 
 Mohammed Ali returned slowly to his house, a complacent 
 smile on his countenance. '' Only continue in your present 
 course, and you will soon fall into the pit I have dug for you 
 and yours. Proceed ! Your new tax will create quite a sen- 
 ation ! " 
 
 He was right. The new tax did create a sensation. 
 
 Bardissi's officials flew from house to house, levying a con- 
 tribution of five hundred sequins from each Frank and Le- 
 vantine. 
 
 Their demands were met everywhere with violent opposi- 
 tion, and caused general dismay. All the consuls repaired to 
 the citadel, to Bardissi, to protest, in the names of their re- 
 spective countries, against this unexpected outrage. Bardissi 
 turned a deaf ear to their protests and entreaties. He thought 
 only of his empty coffers, and of the necessity of paying the 
 soldiers on the following day. Nothing could induce him to 
 retract his action. The collection of the tax was enforced, and 
 the money extorted from the foreigners. The consuls, how- 
 ever, incensed at the outrage, and resolved not to submit to 
 such treatment, left Cairo in a body, followed by their entire 
 households, to repair to Alexandria to take up their residence 
 there. But, during the night preceding their departure, the 
 French consul had a long private conference with Moham- 
 med Ali. 
 
 What passed at this interview no one knew. At daybreak 
 Mohammed accompanied the consul to the door of his house, 
 and, in taking leave of him, said in a low voice : " Only wait. 
 The fruit is ripe and will soon fall. Tell Courschid Pacha I 
 am working for him, and am still the sultan's faithful serv- 
 ant. Though it seem otherwise, I am still working for him.
 
 AGAINST THE MAMELUKES. 421 
 
 Be assured, I shall act promptly when the time for action 
 comes." 
 
 On the following morning the defterdar gave the troops 
 half their pay, the sum raised by the tax imposed on the for- 
 eigners not being sufficient to liquidate the whole amount. 
 The soldiers, however, were not satisfied with receiving half 
 their pay, and went away grumbling. This gave only tempo- 
 rary relief, and soon the whole army was dissatisfied, clamor- 
 ing for pay and ripe for revolt. 
 
 New taxes had to be imposed, and the burden fell upon the 
 hapless people. The tax-gatherers made their circuit again, 
 and mercilessly collected the tax, in spite of the opposition 
 and lamentations of the sorely -oppressed people. If they re- 
 fused to pay, the amount was raised by selling their houses. 
 The enraged, despairing people no longer grumbled, but 
 rushed howling and crying in dense masses to the Mosque El- 
 Ayar, declaring that they would rather die than longer endure 
 such outrages. 
 
 The monster rebellion raises its head again, and the up- 
 roar of revolt resounds through all Cairo. 
 
 The cadis and sheiks hasten to the mosque to use their in- 
 fluence in tranquillizing the people, but in vain. The only 
 response to their representations is, " We cannot, we will not 
 pay more ! " 
 
 The vast hall of the mosque resounds with their lamenta- 
 tions and cries of rage. Suddenly Mohammed Ali, followed 
 by a few of his soldiers, appears on the threshold. In a loud 
 voice he begs the people to disperse ; in Bardissi's name he 
 promises that the collection of the new tax shall not be 
 enforced. He had gone to Bardissi and entreated him to tor- 
 ment the people no longer, and Bardissi had yielded to his 
 entreaties. 
 
 "Repair quietly to your homes, and fear no longer for 
 your property. I interceded for you, and Bardissi gave me 
 his solemn promise that the tax should not be enforced." 
 
 The spacious mosque resounds with shouts of delight. The 
 people cry, " Long live Mohammed Ali ! " All rush forward 
 to grasp his hand and assure him of their friendship and de- 
 votion.
 
 422 MOHAMMED ALT AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Mohammed feels that he has won the people by his shrewd 
 course. Those who meet him in the streets salute him with 
 reverence and devotion, and call down blessings on his head. 
 When they meet the Mameluke beys, they look down and 
 knit their brows ; they have made themselves odious to the peo- 
 ple, and are hourly becoming more and more detested by them. 
 
 The thunder-clouds are gathering rapidly on the heads of 
 the Mameluke beys. They see the coming storm in the angry 
 looks of those who approach them ; they feel it in the soli- 
 tude that surrounds them. Curses are invoked upon their 
 heads by the people, and not blessings, as upon Mohammed 
 Ali's head. 
 
 Mohammed quietly prepares for the future ; nothing is left 
 to accident. No unlooked-for event must break in upon his 
 plans, and destroy him with the rest. Let the fruit fall when 
 ripe, and fall so deep into the abyss that no hand can pluck it 
 thence ! 
 
 The consuls have left Cairo, but after a few days the 
 French consul returns secretly to the city, accompanied by 
 the chief secretary of the governor, Courschid Pacha ; at 
 night and disguised, they glide stealthily through the streets 
 of Cairo. They repair to the house of Mohammed Ali, and 
 remain there in earnest and eager conversation with the 
 sarechsme throughout the entire night. And again, as on 
 the occasion of a former conference, the consul takes his de- 
 parture before the dawn of day. 
 
 The governor's secretary remains with Mohammed. He 
 still has a document to present to him, and Mohammed's eyes 
 sparkle as he reads it. 
 
 "I have but one further request to make of his excel- 
 lency." 
 
 ""What is it, sarechsme ? I am instructed to comply with 
 your wishes in all things." 
 
 " I only wish to read the firman to Cousrouf myself." 
 
 " Let it be as you desire, sarechsme. If you ask this as a 
 reward for your faithful services, it is a petty one indeed ; 
 you are, however, I believe, soon to receive a much greater 
 one. When Courschid enters Cairo, he will appoint you a 
 pacha of two tails."
 
 AGAINST THE MAMELUKES. 423 
 
 Mohammed hastily averted his face, and made no re- 
 ply. No one should see that the intelligence made him 
 rejoice. 
 
 The fruit is ripe and ready to fall ; the time for action has 
 come. 
 
 On the following morning, a body of soldiers marches out 
 and surrounds the quarter of the city in which the Mameluke 
 beys reside. 
 
 Bardissi and Ismail have both left the citadel, and now 
 dwell in the city. There they can live more comfortably and 
 conveniently than up in the citadel ; and the Mameluke beys 
 are in the habit of attaching more importance to their comfort 
 than the rest of the world. The quarter in which they reside 
 is completely surrounded by soldiers. They do not notice it, 
 however ; these grand gentlemen are taking their ease in their 
 palaces. 
 
 Bardissi is in his harem. He has consoled himself for 
 Sitta Nefysseh's cruelty and coldness ; the beautiful Georgian 
 and Circassian slaves that throng his harem well know how 
 to make him forget the past with their songs and dances, their 
 sweet words and soft looks. 
 
 There he lies on his cushions, gazing dreamily at their 
 dancing. 
 
 Suddenly a shot is heard, then a second follows, and a ball 
 strikes the wall of his house. 
 
 Bardissi bounds from his cushions, and the dance is at an 
 end. He rushes out into the court-yard to learn the cause of 
 the firing. The street and square are filled with soldiers, and 
 on the opposite side of the square, in front of the arsenal, 
 whole batteries are in position, as though a battle were to be 
 
 fought. 
 
 " What does this mean ? Who has led these troops against 
 us ? Are those not Albanians and Armenians ? " 
 
 A loud, a fearful cry resounds from Bardissi's lips : ' Those 
 are Mohammed Ali's troops, and it is he who is leading them 
 against us. It is he who has planned my destruction. Then 
 let us also prepare for battle ourselves. They shall see that 
 Bardissi is not so easily trapped. Let us defend ourselves in 
 this house as in a fortress. Close all the doors and gates.
 
 424 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Quick, ye soldiers, prepare for battle ! Ye cannoneers, do your 
 duty ! " 
 
 He calls to the cannoneers who stand by the guns crown- 
 ing the wall that surrounds his house. But the cannoneers 
 refuse to obey him. 
 
 Another loud cry escapes Bardissi's lips. Now he under- 
 stands Mohammed's action, and knows why the troops were 
 relieved, others sent to his palace a few days before, and why 
 a new body-guard had been assigned him. 
 
 These are Mohammed's men, and they now refuse obedi- 
 ence to Bardissi. 
 
 He now comprehends Mohammed's whole scheme, and his 
 heart is filled with anguish and immeasurable wrath. 
 
 " Alas ! Nothing is left me but to flee. Come, my Mame- 
 lukes. Load the dromedaries with the treasure ; let the 
 women enter the carriages. Quick, we must act with the speed 
 of lightning. You, my faithful Youssouf, you will stand by 
 me as you stood by Mourad." 
 
 "I will fight beside you while life lasts." 
 
 All is now activity. The dromedaries are laden with 
 treasure, with chests of gold and silver coins, with jewelry, 
 Persian carpets, furs, and silken garments. The women enter 
 the closed carriages ; the eunuchs take their place beside 
 them. Now Bardissi mounts his war-horse, beside him his 
 best and truest friend, Youssouf, and many others of his faith- 
 ful followers. 
 
 The Mamelukes now throw open the gates, and with up- 
 lifted swords, ready for the conflict, sally forth from the 
 court-yard. 
 
 The soldiers who have surrounded the palace see with 
 wonder the gates open, Bardissi and his followers as they rush 
 forth, the heavily-laden dromedaries, and the carriages filled 
 with women. The conflict begins, a fierce conflict, the mus- 
 ketry rattles, and carries death into the ranks of both. 
 
 Erect on his war-horse Bardissi leads the van. He fights 
 his way through, his sword mows down the enemy like the 
 scythe of death. Youssouf, his faithful kachef, rides beside 
 him. Like Bardissi, he fights like a lion, and hews with his 
 trusty sword a pathway through the enemy's ranks. But sud-
 
 AGAINST THE MAMELUKES. 425 
 
 denly a well-aimed ball strikes him, he reels in his saddle, and 
 falls with a low moan to the earth, while Bardissi and his men 
 press on. 
 
 He succeeds in fighting his way out of the city. Onward 
 the whole train flies toward Gheezeh. 
 
 Bardissi is wounded ; his right hand bleeds, and blood is 
 streaming down his cheeks. Bardissi is wounded, yet he lives, 
 and is saved. On they press, and now they are no longer fol- 
 lowed. 
 
 The soldiers have still much to do in Cairo. Let Bardissi 
 flee with his richly-laden dromedaries ; let him depart from 
 Cairo with his Mamelukes ; but let him return no more. 
 
 He draws rein now that the city is behind him ; he looks 
 back, and a tear trickles down his cheek and mingles with his 
 blood. 
 
 For whom was this tear ? 
 
 He looks back toward Cairo, and murmurs : " Moham- 
 med, that you have betrayed me ; this is bitter ! " 
 
 He then turns his horse and they proceed in their flight. 
 Yes, there is still much work to be done in Cairo. It is not 
 only Bardissi who has to be fought and driven out ; there is 
 Ismail, the chief of all the Mamelukes, and all the other beys. 
 All this lordly game is to be chased and driven to bay to-day, 
 and then there are rich spoils to be gathered. Bardissi has 
 hardly quitted his house when the soldiers rush into it, and 
 begin to plunder and destroy after a fashion that can hardly 
 be surpassed by the Mamelukes themselves. The soldiers 
 intend to pay themselves for that which Bardissi owes 
 them. 
 
 And they do pay themselves. Bardissi possesses not only 
 this but other houses in Cairo, and the soldiers plunder them 
 all, leaving nothing behind but the bare walls. 
 
 They then fall upon Ismail Bey ; but he, too, succeeds in 
 cutting his way through the enemy. With him escape almost 
 all the Mameluke beys with their followers. They flee far 
 out of Cairo, into the open country. 
 
 At Gheezeh, on the verge of the desert the Mamelukes 
 lay encamped on the following day, and there the beys were 
 assembled around their hero, Bardissi, in a sad consultation. 
 28
 
 426 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 True, they are safe, yet they feel that their rule in Cairo is at 
 an end, to be restored no more. 
 
 " At an end is the rule of the Mamelukes ! " cries the sa- 
 rechsme, Mohammed Ali, triumphantly. In the night he sends 
 out messengers requesting the cadis and sheiks to come to him, 
 as he has important intelligence to communicate, and a firman 
 sent to him by the grand-sultan to read to them. The cadis 
 and sheiks hasten to obey his call. 
 
 In Mohammed's apartment they find Courschid Pacha's 
 chief secretary, who reads the grand-sultan's firman to them 
 in a loud voice. 
 
 The firman appointed Courschid Pacha Viceroy of Egypt 
 and Governor of Cairo, and commanded all the authorities to 
 obey and serve with humility and devotion the representative 
 of their grand master, who would arrive in Cairo on the fol- 
 lowing day, to take possession of the fortress and receive the 
 oaths of the officials. 
 
 The cadis and sheiks express themselves ready to obey 
 the new governor in all things, and express the hope that 
 with his highness's entrance into Cairo a new era of peace may 
 dawn for their bleeding land. 
 
 They then withdraw to proclaim what has taken place to 
 the people at the mosque on the following morning, and to 
 exhort them to be peaceful and obedient. 
 
 Mohammed, however, repaired to the citadel, accompanied 
 by a bim bashi and two servants, who lead two asses that seemed 
 to be equipped for a journey. On arriving at the citadel, Mo- 
 hammed left the others in the court-yard, and ascended alone 
 to the apartment where Cousrouf was confined. He was asleep 
 when Mohammed entered. He stood still on the threshold 
 for a moment, gazing at his prisoner. 
 
 " Wake up, Cousrouf ! wake up, thou Viceroy of Egypt, 
 wake up ! " 
 
 Cousrouf starts and stares at him. 
 
 "What is it? Who calls me?" 
 
 "Your devoted servant, the sarechsme by your grace, Mo- 
 hammed Ali, calls you." 
 
 " I know by your voice that you have come to kill me 1 " 
 cried Cousrouf, springing to his feet.
 
 AGAINST THE MAMELUKES. 427 
 
 Mohammed slowly shook his head. 
 
 " Had I desired your death, you would long since have 
 stood before Allah's throne, to render an account of your 
 crimes. No, Cousrouf, I have not coine to kill you, but to 
 read to you a message from the grand-sultan at Stamboul." 
 
 Cousrouf bowed his head. 
 
 " You mean my condemnation. Were it an acknowledg- 
 ment of my right and a restoration to authority, Mohammed 
 Ali would not have come to announce it. Read ! " 
 
 The sarechsme unfolded the paper, and read in a loud voice 
 the firman which deposed Cousrouf from the office of viceroy. 
 
 " For he has performed its duties badly, and not proved 
 worthy of our favor. He has been vanquished by rebels, and 
 has sought safety in flight, instead of dying in the fulfilment 
 of his duty. Humiliated and disgraced, he has been brought 
 a prisoner to the palace in which he once ruled. Cousrouf is 
 entirely unworthy of the honors conferred on him, and is 
 hereby deposed from his office and dignities, and forbidden 
 ever to present himself before the grand-sultan, or to show 
 himself at Stamboul in the holy empire of the grand-sultan. 
 He is banished and exiled from the empire, and his name must 
 never be mentioned in the hearing of the grand-sultan. He 
 is to be conveyed to the fort built on the island of Imbro, 
 there to remain until he dies. Such are the commands of the 
 grand-sultan, his gracious master." 
 
 When Mohammed finishes reading, profound silence en- 
 sues. Cousrouf utters no word in reply. He stands there, 
 motionless, pale as a corpse, staring at Mohammed. He seems 
 to be still listening to the words he has heard, to the fearful 
 announcement of his fall and disgrace. 
 
 " To Imbro you go." said Mohammed Ali, after a pause. 
 " Do you remember Imbro ? " 
 
 No word comes from Cousrouf 's pale lips ; he slowly shakes 
 his head. 
 
 " Imbro is a little island, opposite Ca valla, and for the se- 
 lection of this place you are indebted to me, Cousrouf. Do 
 you know why I selected it ? From the windows of your 
 prison you can see Ca valla, the bay, and the Ear of Buceph- 
 alus. From there you can see the sea and the coast, can see
 
 428 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 the place wher on that night the poor boy lay on the shore, 
 also the place where Masa sank beneath the waves. You shall 
 see this place, Cousrouf. I know your gaze will often turn in 
 that direction, and I know you will think of me when you 
 look at the coast, Cousrouf. Your life shall be an everlasting 
 remorse. This is my revenge, Cousrouf. Throughout the 
 remainder of your life your recollections shall torment you, 
 and you shall gaze upon the place where Masa died, and 
 where you made of the innocent boy a hard-hearted man. At 
 Iinbro you shall live, Cousrouf, and I shall take care that 
 you sometimes hear of me there, and learn what has become 
 of the boy who lay stretched out on the shore, his heart torn 
 with anguish, while you caused that which he held dearest on 
 earth to be sunk in the cold grave of the waves. This is our 
 last meeting, yet you shall often hear of me, and this I tell 
 you in advance : Cousrouf Pacha, where you stood in your 
 power and magnificence, there shall Mohammed Ali stand. 
 He will, however, be more powerful than you were, and no one 
 shall deal with him as he has dealt with you. No one shall 
 depose him from his place, be assured of this, and remember 
 it in your solitude at Imbro. Bear my greeting to Cavalla, to 
 the yellow shore, and to Masa's deep, blue grave. And now I 
 have nothing more to say to you. I shall send up the bim 
 bashi who is to conduct you to Alexandria, and accompany 
 you on the ship to your home at Imbro. Farewell ! " 
 
 He turns and hastily leaves the room, without looking 
 again at Cousrouf, who stands there motionless and deathly 
 pale. 
 
 On ascending and unlocking the door of Cousrouf's prison, 
 the bim bashi sees him stretched out on the floor, pale and 
 motionless. Is he dead ? Has the terrible blow destroyed 
 him? 
 
 It were well for Cousrouf if he were dead! But no; he 
 lives! He had only for the moment found relief in in- 
 sensibility from the consciousness of humiliation and dis- 
 grace. 
 
 He returns to consciousness, is led down to the court- 
 yard, mounted on his ass, and conducted by the bim bashi and 
 the slaves to Alexandria. From there he is transported in the
 
 LOVE UNTO DEATH. 
 
 vessel, that lies in readiness, across the sea to Imbro, to the 
 citadel, from whose windows he can see Ca valla, the water, 
 and the place where he buried Masa beneath the cold, blue 
 waves. 
 
 CHAPTER -XTTT. 
 
 LOVE UNTO DEATH. 
 
 ON the afternoon of this fearful day, all was again restored 
 to quiet in the streets of Cairo. The terror-stricken inhabit- 
 ants had again ventured forth from their houses, and were 
 standing in groups, discussing in subdued voices the events of 
 the day. But they ceased conversing when they now saw the 
 cadi approaching on horseback, and in advance of him the 
 public crier. In the cadi's name he proclaimed to the people 
 a general amnesty for all past offences : " The new viceroy is 
 to enter the city on the morrow. Let the city put on festive 
 attire, and let a hearty welcome be extended him. Remove 
 from the streets and houses all traces of conflict and blood- 
 shed. Bury your dead, and care for your wounded, ye wives 
 of the Mameluke beys and the kachefs. Do your duty, ye 
 women and ye servants." 
 
 These orders of the cadi were proclaimed throughout the 
 entire city by the crier. 
 
 But now the veiled women come out into the streets with 
 their servants, and, in obedience to the prophet's injunctions, 
 seek the wounded and suffering, take them to their houses, 
 and care for them tenderly. 
 
 Many of the dead and wounded lie in front of Bardissi's 
 palace men who had stood faithfully by their master, and 
 fallen bravely in the discharge of duty. 
 
 A number of women approach this place. Veiled like the 
 rest is she who precedes the others ; yet her royal bearing, and 
 the deference shown her by the servants and Mamelukes who 
 accompany her, proclaim her to be Sitta Nefysseh. She is 
 performing her woman's duty of seeking out and caring for 
 the wounded. She stoops down over the bodies that lie
 
 430 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 stretched out on the earth, and suddenly a cry escapes her 
 lips a single cry ; she then heckons to the servants, who have 
 followed them with stretchers, for the transport of the unfor- 
 tunate. She gazes in mute horror at the Mameluke bey who 
 lies there, weltering in his blood, a fearful wound on his fore- 
 head, that almost renders his features irrecognizable. She, 
 however, distinguishes her lover, and commands her servants 
 to place him on the stretcher. With her own hands she binds 
 up his wound, and covers his countenance with the white 
 cloths handed her by her women. She then orders her serv- 
 ants to carry the Mameluke bey to her house, and directs her 
 women to continue their search for the wounded. 
 
 She walks beside the stretcher on which the wounded man 
 lies. He does not move ; he lies there insensible, unconscious 
 of what is taking place. 
 
 Perhaps Sitta Nefysseh is only conveying a corpse to her 
 house ! 
 
 She has him carried up into the second story of her house. 
 There he is laid on a mat, and with tender hands Sitta 
 Nefysseh herself adjusts the cushions and pillows. The serv- 
 ants bring to his couch, in silver bowls, water and the heal- 
 ing ointment which Sitta Nefysseh had prepared with her 
 own hands. With gentle touch she wipes the blood from his 
 countenance, washes out the wound, and applies to it the 
 ointment. 
 
 She neither weeps nor laments. Her lips are mute, and 
 her eyes shed no tears. Is this a time to weep, when Yous- 
 souf Bey is suffering and needs her care and attention ? No, 
 at such a time a woman must be strong. She will have time 
 enough for tears and lamentation in her after-life. 
 
 The fearful gash on his forehead bears silent evidence of 
 this. She has often seen similar wounds, and bound them up 
 herself. 
 
 She well knows that Youssouf Bey is wounded unto death 
 that there is no hope of recovery. Yet she does not weep. 
 With Allah all is possible, and he may be gracious. A mir- 
 acle may occur ; Youssouf s youthful vigor and his heroic 
 nature may yet vanquish Death. Perhaps her love may pre- 
 serve him. Grant, merciful Allah, that it be so !
 
 LOVE TOTO DEATH. 4.3 J 
 
 Her women now come with other injured Mamelukes, who 
 are placed on the mats Sitta Nefysseh had caused to be spread 
 out for them in the adjoining room. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh forbids any one to enter the room where 
 Youssouf lies. 
 
 "He needs repose," said she, stepping into the adjoining 
 room to see that the other wounded were being well cared for. 
 " Youssouf Bey needs repose. Be still, move noiselessly, and 
 do not disturb his sleep ! It may be the sleep of death. Be 
 still, close the doors and draw the curtains, that no noise may 
 reach him ! " 
 
 It is perfectly quiet in the room where Youssouf Bey lies. 
 Sitta Nefysseh kneels beside him. Her hands folded in silent 
 prayer, her eyes fastened on his countenance, she bends over 
 him and breathes her warm, glowing breath through his cold 
 lips, to give him of her life, and bathes his cold brow with her 
 warm tears. 
 
 Sitta Nefysseh's prayerful, tearful entreaties are heard. 
 Youssouf Bey awakens from his death-like slumber. Love 
 has recalled the spirit to the body. Love opens his eyes and 
 permits him to see and recognize her who is bowed over him, 
 regarding him with loving tenderness. 
 
 "Is it you, Sitta Nefysseh ? Am I already dead, and is it a 
 divine being that looks at me with your eyes ? " 
 
 " No, my Youssouf, you live and are with me on earth ! " 
 
 " Oh, it is impossible impossible ! Only a sweet illusion," 
 whispers he, with quivering lips ; his eyes close, and he falls 
 back heavily. 
 
 But she bends over him, strokes his brow and cheek with 
 gentle touch, and calls him loving names. 
 
 "You live," murmurs she, "oh, feel that you live, dear 
 Youssouf. Feel it in this kiss ! " 
 
 A soft tremor courses through his entire being, and his 
 eyes open. 
 
 Yes, he lives ! He is not dead ! This is Nefysseh's victory 
 over death, this is the result of the impassioned kiss impressed 
 on the lips of her beloved. 
 
 "And is it possible, Nefysseh, you are indeed with me, 
 and my dreams of love and bliss are realized? You with
 
 432 MOHAMMED A LI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 me ! What can have happened ? Why this wondrous 
 change ? " 
 
 He raises his hand to his forehead and touches the wound, 
 and then he knows what has taken place ; he feels it in the 
 burning pain of his wound. 
 
 "Oh, we are lost all lost! Tell me, Nefysseh, must 
 I die?" 
 
 " No, you shall not die ; you shall live, Youssouf, live 
 for me." 
 
 '' For thee ? Oh, tell me, Nefysseh, do you, then, love me ? " 
 
 She bends over him, clasps him in her arms, and lays her 
 cheek against his. 
 
 " You ask, Youssouf ? Do you not know ? I have long 
 loved, perhaps I loved you even while Mourad still lived ! 
 But I wished to know nothing of it, and I knew nothing of it. 
 I refused to listen to the voices that whispered in my heart. 
 And yet so blissful, so heavenly, to look at you, Youssouf, 
 and read in your eyes the secret of your love. Yet my lips 
 were silent, for, as Mourad's wife, I wished to remain unblam- 
 able. You loved me, and I wished to remain free from blame 
 for your sake, too." 
 
 The tears that pour from her eyes fall upon his face a 
 heavenly dew that gives him new strength, new happiness. 
 
 " Speak on, Sitta Nefysseh, oh, speak on ! What I hear is 
 music ! Let me hear this music and be happy ! Oh, speak 
 on, Nefysseh ! " 
 
 " What shall I say, Youssouf ? The whole meaning of my 
 words is still, I love you, and have long loved you ! When 
 Mourad, my husband, died, I vowed over his dead body that I 
 would remain true to him beyond the grave. Do you know 
 why I wished to raise this barrier between us ? I could not 
 allow the youth to sacrifice his life for me in the blossom of 
 his age. And, moreover, oh, fool that I was, I fancied the 
 wide abyss that separated Mourad Bey's widow from his 
 kachef Youssouf could never be crossed ! I was proud, Yous 
 souf, and proud for you, also ! I did not wish to give any 
 one occasion to say : 'Kachef Youssouf marries Mourad's 
 widow for her possessions for her wealth. She is too old for 
 him to love her. He can only have married her for her
 
 LOVE UNTO DEATH. 433 
 
 wealth and her name.' Thus they might have spoken of the 
 youth, of the hero I loved and adored, and for whom I would 
 gladly have sacrificed my life." 
 
 " And to whom you were yet so cruel, Sitta Nefysseh ; to 
 whom you caused so much suffering ! For I have suffered, 
 Sitta Nefysseh. It was my heaven to be in your presence, to 
 see you. I adored you, and yet you refused to listen to me. 
 But let me be silent. Speak on, oh, speak on of my happi- 
 ness ! Tell me again that you love me, Nefysseh ; I cannot 
 helieve it it cannot he ! " 
 
 " And yet it is so, Youssouf, and long have I loved you. 
 You know not of the long, sleepless nights I have passed in 
 my solitary chamber, my hands folded in prayer to Allah for 
 strength and firmness. You know not how often, in the still 
 night, I have stretched out my arms toward you, and pro- 
 nounced your name with passionate longing, entreating the 
 welis to bear you to me in their gentle arms. Yet, with the 
 day came cold, calm reason, exhorting Mourad's widow to 
 be firm and proud. And, alas ! I was firm. You knew not 
 what it cost me. Then, Youssouf, a new period came. The 
 beys Bardissi and L'Elfi addressed me, covetous not only of 
 the possession of the woman, but also of her wealth. From 
 that hour I knew that danger threatened you, for the Mame- 
 luke beys are fierce and cruel ; and, if they had known of 
 my affection for you, my beloved, you would have been lost. 
 This I knew, and therefore was I cold and indifferent in my 
 manner to you. You called me unfeeling and cruel when I 
 sent you away to battle. I was afraid it might excite suspi- 
 cion if I kept you back at such a time ; and then, too, I was 
 satisfied you would make for yourself a name, which you 
 have done, my beloved. You returned. You came with a 
 new declaration of love, which Nefysseh rejected, because 
 Bardissi had been with her in the self-same hour, and had 
 renewed his addresses, and because he would never forgive 
 you if I chose you instead of himself. And now this fearful 
 disaster has overtaken us all ! Treachery has stained our 
 streets with blood ! The Mameluke beys have left the city 
 in wild flight ! You, Youssouf Bey, have, however, -emained 
 here, and now I may tell you all, avow all that ? feel and
 
 434: 3IOIIAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 have endured and suffered in secret. I may tell you that I 
 love you, and Allah will be merciful and gracious, Youssouf. 
 We are united in love. The seal has fallen from my lips, and 
 they dare proclaim what I feel. Oh, my Youssouf, there is a 
 bright future in store for us ; you will recover, and be strong* 
 and happy ! " 
 
 " I am already well," murmured he. " All is well with me, 
 Sitta Nefysseh, for you love me, and in your love I shall re- 
 gain health and strength." 
 
 His lips cease to speak, and a tremor courses through his 
 whole being. 
 
 " Youssouf 1 " cries she, in tones of anguish " Youssouf ! 
 Oh, stay with me, do not leave me ! " 
 
 In response to her call, he opens his eyes and gives her a 
 tender look. 
 
 " Yes, Sitta Nefysseh, I shall remain with you throughout 
 all time, throughout eternity, for love is eternal." 
 
 His lips are hushed, but his eyes still gaze up at her, for a 
 moment, with the lustre of life ; then they grow dim and 
 cold, and slowly the veil of death sinks down over his counte- 
 nance. The lips that but now spoke the words, ''I love you," 
 are hushed forever ! 
 
 Bowed down over him, her eyes fixed intently on the fea- 
 tures from which the last traces of life are vanishing, she sees 
 the kiss that Death has imprinted on his lips, and the last 
 smile slowly fade from his countenance. 
 
 And again she neither weeps nor laments ; she only tears 
 the veil from her head with a wild, despairing movement, and 
 lays it over the countenance of her beloved dead. 
 
 " Sleep, Youssouf, sleep beneath my veil ! You are dead, 
 and my happiness dies with you I shall be a living monu- 
 ment to your memory ! I shall live in poverty and solitude, 
 Youssouf, and the treasures which you buried for me beneath 
 the earth shall remain there, a subterranean monument to 
 my love. They shall never see the light of day ! You have 
 buried my treasures, and I will bury my greatest, holiest treas- 
 ure you, Youssouf Bey ; and with you Sitta Nefysseh buries 
 her youth, her love, and her grandeur, to be henceforth only 
 a poor widow who lives in solitary retirement, a prey to sor-
 
 COURSCHID PACHA. 435 
 
 row. Sleep, Youssouf Bey ! You will awake with me above, 
 to an eternal life sleep, Youssouf ! " 
 
 She lifts the veil once more, and kisses the forehead, now 
 cold as marble ; she then replaces it softly, and leaves the 
 room. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 COURSCHID PACHA. 
 
 A NEW viceroy is enthroned in Cairo, the viceroy Cour- 
 schid Pacha, and it is again the old story of wars, want of 
 money, and oppression of the people. 
 
 Courschid Pacha ! What is he but a continuation of all 
 the other viceroys, governors, and caimacans who have ruled 
 in Cairo since Egypt has belonged to the Turkish empire ? 
 New taxes, new extortion, and new wars. For the Mameluke 
 beys have assembled on the plain of Gheezeh and formed new 
 plans, recruited their ranks with Arabians and Nubians, and 
 prepared to take the field against the rulers in Cairo, and 
 above all against their most hated enemy, the pacha Moham- 
 med Ali. 
 
 Such was the dignity conferred upon Mohammed by Cour- 
 schid Pacha, upon his entrance into Cairo, in the name of the 
 grand-sultan. 
 
 It is not to war against Courschid Pacha that the Mame- 
 lukes are assembling their forces. To destroy Mohammed 
 Ali. the soldier-king, the real ruler in Cairo, is their aim ; and, 
 in order to accomplish this, they even humble themselves be- 
 fore the viceroy, who is already involved in a conflict with 
 Mohammed. They seek to treat with him, and with the 
 grand-admiral of the Turkish fleet, sent by the Sublime Porte 
 to Alexandria to restore peace to the distracted country. To 
 him, the grand-admiral, the Mameluke beys address a letter 
 offering their services : 
 
 " The undersigned, knowing that your highness has come 
 to Egypt to put an end to the anarchy that prevails, offer, in 
 the name of all the beys, to unite their forces with those of
 
 436 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 Courschid Pacha, and to assist him and your highness in all 
 you may do and undertake, provided Mohammed Ali and the 
 Albanians be driven from the country." 
 
 This proposition receives the approval of Courschid Pacha, 
 who hates Mohammed as heartily as the Mamelukes do ! Mo- 
 hammed is the people's idol. To him they apply for relief 
 from oppression, and, whenever there is any thing to be de- 
 manded of the viceroy, it is Mohammed, supported by the 
 cadis and sheiks, who loudly demands that right and justice 
 be done. Merely this : " Eight and justice ! " But this it is 
 that Courschid cannot accord them. He cannot accord right 
 and justice, he who is always in want and danger, he who is 
 suffering with the disease that has so long cursed the viceroys 
 of Egypt want of money. When money is needed, it must 
 be had, even if extorted from the inhabitants of Cairo and 
 its vicinity. And Mohammed often interposes and prevents 
 Courschid from executing his money -raising schemes. 
 
 Courschid Pacha, incensed by this interference, complains 
 to the sultan at Stamboul, and requests that the sarechsme, 
 Mohammed Ali, be relieved from duty at Cairo, and assigned 
 to duty elsewhere. At the same time, in order to make him- 
 self independent of the Albanians, who are wholly under the 
 influence of Mohammed Ali, he causes a body of troops to be 
 brought to Cairo for himself, a body of Delis, wild, lawless 
 troops, who carry terror and dismay wherever they go. 
 These Delis are now seen in Egypt for the first time ; the 
 viceroy treats them tenderly, and Courschid, who has money 
 for no one else, has money for his Delis ; and when he has 
 none, he delivers over to their mercy some village in the 
 vicinity of Cairo, out of which they pay themselves by pillage. 
 
 At last a day came when the people, so long bowed down 
 in the dust, arose like a lion, and refused to yield longer to 
 such oppression. 
 
 " We will endure this no more ; we will submit to this in- 
 justice and oppression no longer ! " 
 
 The cadis and sheiks repair to the citadel to announce the 
 determination of the people to the viceroy. 
 
 "The people refuse to submit further to this oppression. 
 Neither they nor we will endure it."
 
 COURSCHID PACHA. 437 
 
 They say this to his face, proudly, fearlessly. He replies 
 fiercely : " I will hurl death into your midst if the people are 
 not brought back to humility and obedience, for I am your 
 master I alone ! " 
 
 " You are our master while we recognize you as such, and 
 no longer," replied the cadi, turning and leaving the room, fol- 
 lowed by the sheiks. 
 
 In the streets below he announces to the people : " Justice 
 is not to be obtained of Courschid Pacha, and we will submit 
 to him no more ! " 
 
 " No, we can and will not submit," say the cadi and sheiks, 
 who, accompanied by thousands of the people, have repaired to 
 the palace of the sarechsme. 
 
 " We announce to you, Mohammed Ali, in the name of the 
 whole people, we will recognize and obey Courschid Pacha no 
 longer. This man's cruelty and injustice are no longer to be 
 endured." 
 
 " We declare him removed from his office ; we declare him 
 deposed from the throne," cried the cadi, solemnly ; and the 
 sheiks repeat the cry : " We declare him removed from his of- 
 fice ; we declare him deposed from the throne ! " 
 
 And in the streets without, the people shout exultingly : 
 " We declare him deposed from the throne ! " 
 
 Mohammed listens to these unusual outcries, and his coun- 
 tenance is grave and solemn. 
 
 " You depose him from the throne, cadi ! But whom will 
 you put in his place ? " 
 
 He asks the question slowly and quietly, and no one knows 
 how wildly his heart throbs within him. He is aware that 
 the crisis is at hand, and that what he has dreamed of since 
 his boyhood, and worked and toiled for during four long 
 years, is now about to be decided. " Whom will you put in 
 his place ? " 
 
 "Yourself, Mohammed Ali!" cried the cadi, solemnly. 
 "Yes; you must rule in Courschid Pacha's stead, for we are 
 convinced that your aim will be the welfare of the people." 
 
 " Me ! " said Mohammed Ali, recoiling a step as if startled, 
 and the pallor which overspread his face could have been 
 caused by alarm as well as by joy.
 
 4-38 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 "No, it is impossible, you cannot select me ; I am not 
 worthy of so great an honor." 
 
 " You are worthy of this honor, and the people invest you 
 with it through me," cried the cadi. " Come, Mohammed AH, 
 Caimacan of Cairo, our governor and master ! I proclaim you 
 to be such, in the name of the people." 
 
 While Mohammed silently shakes his head, the cadi hastily 
 throws open the wide doors that lead out upon the balcony of 
 the house, steps out and proclaims, in such loud tones that the 
 assembled thousands who fill the spacious square can hear 
 him: 
 
 " Courschid Pacha is deposed, and we elect Mohammed Ali 
 Pacha to be our governor I Is this your will ? " 
 
 " It is our will I " shout the populace, exultingly. " Cour- 
 schid is deposed, and Mohammed Ali is our governor ! Long 
 live Mohammed Ali ! " 
 
 His head bowed down on his breast, Mohammed stands lis- 
 tening to the grateful words : " Long live Mohammed Ali ! " 
 
 The cadi re-enters the apartment. '' You have heard their 
 voice ! Now show yourself to the people. They have chosen 
 you. Step out upon the balcony with us, that they may salute 
 you." 
 
 " It shall be as you say," said he, after a pause. " The peo- 
 ple call me, and I will greet them. May Allah assist me in 
 advancing their welfare ! " 
 
 The cadi takes his hand and leads him out. Without, the 
 assembled thousands shout exultingly: "Long live our new 
 governor! Our caimacan! Our viceroy! Long live Mo- 
 hammed Ali Pacha ! " 
 
 These strains resound so loudly through the city, that they 
 reach the citadel. Everywhere in the streets exulting voices 
 cry: " Courschid Pacha is deposed, and Mohammed Ali is our 
 governor ! " 
 
 " I am alone viceroy here in Cairo," is the burden of a mis- 
 sive penned by Courschid in the citadel, and sent down by 
 him to the cadi and sheiks. " I alone am viceroy. Upon me 
 the grand-sultan at Stamboul has conferred this dignity, and a 
 message will soon come from our master announcing to you 
 his decision with regard to the rebel, Mohammed Ali. Until
 
 COURSCniD PACHA. 439 
 
 then I will assert my authority, and I appeal to all faithful 
 subjects, and to all who do not wish to hazard their future 
 with the rebels, and to perish with them, to rally to the sup- 
 port of their lawful ruler." 
 
 And large numbers did so, many fearing, no doubt, the de- 
 cision expected from Stamboul. 
 
 But Mohammed was undaunted, and besieged the citadel of 
 Cairo with his faithful Albanians. 
 
 The bloody struggle arose between the besiegers and the be- 
 sieged. The cannon thundered death and destruction into the 
 ity, and, when vigorous sorties occurred, the conflict some- 
 times surged far down into the streets. But finally, after four 
 days of fierce fighting, the expected message arrived from 
 Stamboul, and an unexpected one it proved to be, to the vice- 
 roy, Courschid Pacha. 
 
 The grand-vizier had sent one of his confidants with the 
 capidgi bashi, with instructions to investigate, and make him- 
 self thoroughly acquainted with the state of things, and learn 
 who was right, and who wrong; and the capidgi, and his as- 
 sociate, had done so; and now, upon their arrival in Cairo, 
 they summoned the cadi and sheiks, and announced to them, 
 and to Mohammed Ali, the firman of the grand-sultan : " Mo- 
 hammed Ali is confirmed in his office of Governor of Cairo 
 and Viceroy of Egypt; and the deposed viceroy, Courschid 
 Pacha, is ordered to repair to Alexandria, there to await the 
 further orders of bis master." 
 
 A copy of this firman is sent up to the citadel, and Cour- 
 schid commanded to surrender the fortress, and leave the city 
 immediately. He at first declined to surrender, and demanded 
 an interview with the capidgi bashi and his associate. This 
 was, however, refused him, and he was at last compelled to 
 yield, and give up the citadel. Through the little side-gate 
 that leads down to the Nile, Courschid, accompanied by a few 
 faithful followers, left the citadel, and was conveyed in boats, 
 that lay in readiness, down the river to Boulak. From there, 
 after a brief sojourn, he continued his journey to Alexandria, 
 and then on to Stamboul. 
 
 While Courschid is descending the secret stairway to leave 
 the citadel, Mohammed Ali and his warriors are ascending the
 
 440 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 hill in triumph, marching to the strains of stirring military 
 music. The garrison of the fortress lay down their arms, and 
 all cry, exultingly : " Long live Mohammed Ali, our new vice- 
 roy ! " He still hears it as he enters the grand apartment 
 where Courschid has been in the hahit of receiving him. He 
 still hears it as he steps out upon the wall of the fortress, and 
 looks down upon the wondrous city, at the Nile, at the palm- 
 trees on the green shore beyond, and at the yellow desert, on 
 whose verge the pyramids tower aloft. 
 
 " Long live our new viceroy, Mohammed Ali ! " 
 
 This cry resounds from a thousand voices, and Mohammed 
 gazes out upon the beautiful, heavenly world that is now his 
 own, and an ecstasy that almost makes his heart stand still^ 
 possesses his soul. 
 
 " Long live the Viceroy of Egypt ! " 
 
 "I have reached my goal. I am the viceroy. They greet 
 me with shouts of joy, and wish me a long life. I will en- 
 deavor to reward them. Poor, bleeding Egypt, shall progress 
 under my rule. I will endeavor to bring prosperity and happi- 
 ness to those who have suffered so much. This I swear, by 
 Allah ! I will raise this poor land up out of the dust. Yes, I 
 swear it, by Allah ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE TENT. 
 
 PEACE and tranquillity prevail at last. For the present, at 
 least, the people enjoy blessings to which they have long beer 
 strangers, and it is to the new viceroy and his beneficent rule 
 that they owe these blessings. He has signalized the begin- 
 ning of his rule by compelling the lawless horde of Delis, called 
 by Courschid his body-guard, to return to the interior of Africa. 
 He has also brought back into subjection the Armenians and 
 Albanians, who, carried away by the war-fury, had, for a 
 period, laughed at all order and discipline. Though mild and 
 gentle toward the devoted and obedient, Mohammed is severe 
 and cruel to the disobedient and defiant-
 
 THE TENT. 44} 
 
 Many heads have fallen in these first days of his rule. The 
 head of many a wild soldier, who paid for his mutinous or riot- 
 ous behavior with his life, adorns the wall of the citadel, a 
 warning to the enemies of law and order. 
 
 This warning is not lost on the other soldiers, and on the 
 secret adherents of the Mamelukes ; it teaches them to conform 
 to circums ances and bow their heads in submission. The 
 Mamelukes themselves are far distant from Cairo, and lie en- 
 camped near Minieh, equipping and disciplining their forces, 
 and preparing to renew the struggle. 
 
 The viceroy, however, has a strong arm, and his power in- 
 creases daily. He will bring them also into submission. 
 
 The people who pass the palace occupied by Mohammed as 
 sarechsme, stand still, and gaze with curiosity at the changes 
 and alterations being made there. Large numbers of laborers 
 are engaged in repairing the injuries sustained by the building 
 in the recent conflicts ; in setting out trees and shrubbery in 
 the garden, and in adorning it with rare flowers. Great im- 
 provements are progressing in the wing of the building whose 
 windows open on the garden. 
 
 Artistically carved lattice-work and shutters are being 
 affixed to the lofty windows of the second story. And the 
 curious, who observe this, give each other a sly look, and 
 smile. They understand the significance of these shutters. 
 These are the shutters of the windows of a harem, and they 
 proclaim that Mohammed is now also occupied with other 
 than affairs of state. The people rejoice in these harem win- 
 dows, for they are a guarantee of peace. When the warrior 
 builds a harem, it proves that he himself believes in the sta- 
 bility of peace, and the new order of things. And the new 
 viceroy does. 
 
 In discussing these matters, the people who stand in front 
 of the palace of the Esbekieh tell each other that the viceroy 
 has sent a messenger to his distant home beyond the sea, 
 where his first wife and children live, and has sent them word 
 to come to him. " They will come by water ! " relates one of 
 them, " md that is why the dehabieh is being built at Boulak. 
 It is like a magnificent saloon, and is to be beautifully adorned 
 the walls hung with velvet, and the floor covered with 
 29
 
 442 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 costly Persian carpets. The viceroy's first wife and his chil- 
 dren will come up from Alexandria in this dehabieh." 
 
 "His first wife?'' exclaims another. "You speak of his 
 first. Has he then other wives ? " 
 
 The person addressed then assumes a mysterious air, as if 
 to intimate that he is in the viceroy's confidence, and quite 
 accurately informed as to the number of his wives. " It is not 
 known," says he, hesitatingly; "it is, however, well known 
 that a harem has been constructed at the citadel, and that here 
 also the apartments in the wing of the palace are to be ar- 
 ranged as a harem." 
 
 " One wife hardly requires two harems, I should fancy ! " 
 they all laughingly repeat; "by Allah, one wife has no need 
 of two harems, and the viceroy m ust therefore have, as the 
 prophet allows, more than one wife." 
 
 But no one knows it; and Mohammed takes care to be 
 silent concerning his private life. He is reticent in such mat- 
 ters, and only talkative when in conference with his ministers 
 and government officials, and most so when conversing with 
 Hassan, his minister of finance, on which occasions he is often 
 compelled to hear that the treasury is unfortunately almost 
 empty, and that new means of replenishing it must be devised. 
 
 Money is scarce, but none is spared in decorating the apart- 
 ments at the citadel, and below in the palace of the Esbekieh. 
 
 The apartments in the citadel destined to be the harem of 
 the viceroy's wife, as well as the other apartments of the 
 palace, are being splendidly furnished. 
 
 The upper apartments, now that they are completed, the 
 viceroy inspects alone; through the others he walks beside 
 his faithful friend Hassan, pointing out with complacency the 
 beauties of the long suite of elegantly-furnished apartments. 
 
 " And do you know who is to occupy these rooms, Hassan ?" 
 asked Mohammed, his countenance assuming a more mild and 
 kindly expression than Hassan had ever before observed in 
 the usually stern and severe features of his master. 
 
 " It is said the viceroy has sent for his sons," replied Has- 
 san, " and I therefore suppose that they are to live here." 
 
 "And your supposition is right, my friend," replied the 
 viceroy, smiling. " Yes, here my dear sons will live, my three
 
 THE TENT. 4.4.3 
 
 boys. Yet they must be almost young men by this time. Let 
 me see, five years have passed since I saw them. They must 
 have changed very much in this time, Hassan, and I confess 
 my heart yearns for them. Do you think they will know me ? " 
 
 " You are not changed, master," replied Hassan. "Just as 
 you look now, you looked on that day, you know, the day at 
 Aboukir, when I saw you for the first time." 
 
 " I know, we met there for the first time, and you are the 
 only friend that has stood beside me faithfully since that day. 
 The only one, too, Hassan, in whom I confide, and may Allah 
 grant that you stand beside me through life ! " 
 
 " Yes, may Allah grant that my enemies may never succeed 
 in making you distrust me. For this I know, I shall remain 
 faithful to you until death; and malice and calumny alone 
 can succeed in alienating from me my master's confidence." 
 
 " Hassan," said the viceroy, looking at him earnestly, " I 
 do not listen to calumny, and, whatever I hear, I do not be- 
 lieve it unless I recognize it as truth. You will be often ca- 
 lumniated, my friend ; that T well know. But this I promise 
 you : whatever evil is said of you I will repeat to you, to en- 
 able you to justify yourself, and then woe to those who have 
 the temerity to calumniate you ! " 
 
 The viceroy has shown the beautiful apartments of the 
 citadel to his friend Hassan, but the apartments in the palace 
 of the Esbekieh he shows to no one ; through them he wan- 
 ders alone. The saloons and chambers are not yet finished ; 
 he carefully observes them as he walks along, noting whether 
 his instructions are being complied with. Now he has entered 
 the immense saloon, situated at the end of the apartments of 
 the harem. He locks the door behind him; here no one must 
 see him ; to this sanctuary no human eye must follow him. 
 
 At the entrance he stands still and looks around. A won- 
 drous change has come over him. He smiles, and his coun- 
 tenance is still more radiant than when he spoke with Hassan 
 of his sons. His eyes sparkle like those of a youth who be- 
 holds again the countenance of his beloved. 
 
 The saloon is curiously furnished. Nothing splendid, noth- 
 ing beautiful is to be seen. Simple mats cover the floor, such 
 mats, woven of long straw by the fellahs, as adorn the harems
 
 444 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 of the poorer class of people in Cairo. There are no divans, 
 but only low cushions covered with plain woolen cloth, no 
 costly hangings, no mirrors on the walls ; they are hung with 
 gray linen, as though they were the sides of a gigantic tent, 
 and in the middle of this immense space there really stands a 
 tent a large one made of white cloth, patched with colored 
 rags of every description, such a tent as the Bedouin chiefs of 
 the desert dwell in. 
 
 Any one entering this immense space, after passing through 
 the glittering apartments of the harem, would have heen 
 strangely and mysteriously affected by its appearance. 
 
 But Mohammed is not so affected. He steps in noiselessly, 
 as if fearing to disturb the repose of 'some one. 
 
 Is any one reposing there ? 
 
 Not yet; but the time, it is to be hoped, will soon come 
 when this tent shall no longer be unoccupied as now. 
 
 Mohammed steps forward, draws back the curtain, and 
 enters the first apartment of the tent. 
 
 How plain it is, how desolate and bare ! On the mat in the 
 corner, however, lie cushions, and spread over them a shawl 
 adorned with tassels, the cover for the person who is to sleep 
 there; there stands also a stool, and on it lies a tray, which 
 contains various articles of table-ware, such as dishes, plates, 
 and pitchers. 
 
 It all looks extremely plain, but, when viewed more closely, 
 it is observed that, beneath this simplicity, splendor is concealed. 
 When the shawl is raised, it is discovered that the other side 
 is of heavy crimson velvet, inworked with gold, and bordered 
 with pearls. When the tray that lies on the stool is examined, 
 it is found to be of solid silver, and of great value, though un- 
 polished and rough , and the cups, dishes, and other articles, 
 prove to be of richly- worked gold, set with precious stones, 
 and placed as if in jest in plain, wooden forms. Mohammed 
 examines all these things with a smile of satisfaction, and 
 murmurs to himself: "Yes, yes, it was just so. The first 
 apartment presented just this appearance." 
 
 He now draws back the curtain that opens into the second 
 apartment, and it seems to him he hears now as then a sweet 
 voice say: "The second apartment is for the women, and no
 
 THE TENT. 445 
 
 man is ever allowed to enter it. I will conduct you into that 
 apartment, and there I beg you to remain." 
 
 The second apartment, where Butheita lived, was just like 
 this. There lay the cushions on which her lovely form re- 
 posed at night. Just so was the woollen cover with its white 
 and hrown stripes, and like these were the little red shoes 
 that stood beside her couch there. Only those were of leather 
 and these were of red velvet, and sparkled with precious 
 stones. When raised, it was found that the other side of this 
 woollen cover, like that in the other apartment, was also of 
 splendid material, richly worked and adorned with gems. 
 There was nothing else here but a small chest that stood in a 
 remote corner, as in Butheita's tent. In that she kept the lit- 
 tle ornaments, purchased for her in Tantah by her father, 
 articles of jewelry found in the sand of the desert, and which 
 had perhaps been worn by a daughter of the Pharaohs, and gems 
 that had been taken from the grave of some mummy, where 
 they had lain for thousands of years. Outwardly the chest 
 that stood in the corner looked like the other, but it contained 
 treasures of a different nature ; a costly necklace of pearls, 
 buckles of enormous value, and a diadem, so lustrous that it 
 seemed as though Mohammed had stolen stars from heaven 
 with which to adorn his love. 
 
 As he stands there absorbed in the contemplation of these 
 articles, a feeling of unutterable bliss comes over him, of 
 happiness unknown to him for many long years. 
 
 Yes, unknown to him for long years, for very many have 
 elapsed since Masa died. Since the time when he prepared 
 the subterranean grotto for Masa, he has never until now 
 experienced such ecstasy. He steps out, closes the cur- 
 tains, and surveys every thing once more, and smiles his 
 approval. 
 
 u Now I go for your mistress," murmured he, as he turns 
 iind walks toward the door. But at the door he suddenly 
 >tands still. He feels that this is not the countenance of the 
 riceroy, of a ruler, but that of a happy man. Such a counte- 
 nance he must, however, not exhibit to the world ; no one 
 must see that the ruler, perplexed and weighed down with the 
 cares of state, can sometimes forget that he is a ruler, and be-
 
 446 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 come for a moment a happy man. When he steps out his 
 countenance wears its usual grave and severe expression. 
 
 On the evening of this day, the viceroy leaves the citadel 
 for a short time. He wishes to repose for a few days in his 
 house on the shore of the Nile, opposite Boulak, in the house 
 he had caused to be built when he was sarechsme, and to 
 which he had given the name Salam-lyk. 
 
 A single servant, Achmed, accompanies the viceroy to 
 Salam-lyk, where he proposes to enjoy a little rest from the 
 cares of state, as he is in the habit of doing from time to 
 time. 
 
 Upon his arrival at Salam-lyk, he calls Achmed to his 
 apartment, confers with him for a long time, and gives him 
 instructions with regard to something he wishes him to do. 
 Achmed leaves him, mounts a swift dromedary, and rides out 
 into the night, and Mohammed retires to rest. But he rises 
 again with the earliest dawn, and gazes impatiently out of the 
 window, as if expecting some one ; he smiles at himself ; he is 
 as impatient as a young girl, or as a lover awaiting the coming 
 of his love. 
 
 But hour after hour passes, and still he sees no one com- 
 ing up the path that leads through the garden to the house. 
 But finally, at noon, Achmed is seen approaching 
 
 Mohammed hastens out into the garden to meet him. 
 
 "Well, did you find the tent ? " 
 
 "Yes, master, the dromedary ran to it of its own accord." 
 
 " And whom did you meet at the tent ? " 
 
 "The father, master the chief Arnhyn." 
 
 Mohammed quickly averts his face the servant must not 
 see that his lips quiver, that he grows pale. 
 
 " You met the chief, and he was alone ? " 
 
 " Yes, master, alone hi his tent, and I conversed with 
 him." 
 
 " What was said ? Did he speak of his daughter ? Has 
 she followed another man to his tent ? " asked Mohammed, in 
 such quick, passionate tones, that Achmed started and failed 
 to understand his meaning. 
 
 '* No, master, he spoke to me of his daughter, because I, as 
 you instructed me, asked about her, yet so casually, that he
 
 THE TENT. 44.7 
 
 could not suspect that I particularly desired to speak of her. 
 He told me his daughter was much changed ; she had become 
 sad and delicate, and he had therefore sent her to visit some 
 friends at Petresin, in order that she might be thrown together 
 with other young girls for a time, and learn to laugh and jest 
 again. She had, however, sent her father word yesterday that 
 she could endure it no longer, and would return home to-day. 
 He stood at the door awaiting her, unwilling to leave his 
 tent to go out to meet her, for fear of the thieving Bedouins 
 that roam the desert, and who knew that his tent contained 
 costly treasures." 
 
 " Then you suppose Butheita will return to her father's to- 
 day?" 
 
 " I remained there until I saw her coming in the distance. 
 The sheik's eagle-eyes recognized her in the dim distance. 
 ' There comes my daughter, Butheita, with her friends ! ' he 
 cried, joyously; 'in an hour she will be here.' I remained 
 some time longer, the sheik gradually becoming more and 
 more delighted as he recognized his daughter more distinctly. 
 'Yes, it is Butheita !' he cried ; 'she is returning home.' 
 Then I took my departure, master, to bring you the intelli- 
 gence." 
 
 " And how long," asked Mohammed, hastily, his counte- 
 nance averted " how long do you suppose it will take to 
 reach the sheik's tent ? " 
 
 " I took, as you instructed me, master, the dromedary you 
 recently purchased from Sheik Arnhyn. It knew the road, 
 and flew on its way like the wind, without any guidance. I 
 think it can be reached in two hours." 
 
 " In two hours ! " repeated Mohammed. " An hour after 
 sunset, this evening, have the dromedary in readiness, and, 
 for yourself, the swiftest horse. At that hour we will de- 
 part."
 
 448 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 i 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 NlGHT has come. The Bedouin chief, Arnhyn, has retired 
 to rest. He is to start early in the morning with others of his 
 tribe for Tantah, to take to market the wool of their black 
 sheep, the cloth they have woven out of it, the goat-skins, and 
 cheese. 
 
 Butheita, also, must rise early in the morning, for she is 
 to accompany her father, and has many little preparations 
 to make. On the evening before, she had already done up 
 her hair in a hundred small plaits, securing them with gold- 
 headed pins, on some of which precious stones sparkled. The 
 pink silk dress, the white" veil, and the shoes, all lie ready for 
 use. She has colored her finger-nails and the palms of her 
 hands with henna ; but Butheita scorns to color her face ; 
 moreover, no one is to see her face. Hitherto she had cor- 
 dially detested her veil, but now she hides her countenance 
 closely in the presence of all men. 
 
 Surprised at this, the sheik has often asked her how it 
 happened that such a change had come over her, and that 
 she showed herself to no one unveiled since the stranger had 
 sojourned in their tent, as though his eyes had hurt her, and 
 made her afraid of the gaze of men. 
 
 Butheita had only smiled mysteriously in response to his 
 questions ; she well knows, however, why she does so : she 
 knows it is to keep sacred from the gaze of other men the 
 countenance consecrated by his glance. 
 
 Night has come. The sheik is sleeping soundly on his 
 mat in the first apartment of the tent, and Butheita on her 
 cushions in the inner apartment. Deep silence prevails, 
 interrupted only from time to time by the desert-wind as it 
 sweeps across the plain and shakes the stakes of the tent, and 
 makes the white canvas swell out. 
 
 Surely it was only the wind that now raised the curtain 
 and made the canvas rustle. Bui it does not awaken the 
 sheik ; he is accustomed to such sounds, and sleeps so quietly
 
 RETRIBUTION. 4.4.0, 
 
 that he does not see the shadow that glides cautiously into 
 the tent, and creeps to where he lies sleeping. Without, 
 stands another man, holding up the curtain to enable the first 
 to see his way. 
 
 The moon throws a ray of light into the tent, and with a 
 quick bound the man is beside the sheik, and binds his hands 
 and feet. The sheik is now aroused ; he opens his lips to 
 utter a cry, but a wooden gag is thrust into his mouth. He 
 can neither cry out nor move ; he lies there perfectly helpless, 
 looking up wrathfully at the enemy who is treating him so 
 shamefully. 
 
 The robber's face is masked, and he can not recognize him. 
 But a robber he assuredly is ; yes, a robber who is searching 
 for treasure, and who well knows that the sheik possesses 
 several little chests filled with gold-pieces, jewelry, and pre- 
 cious stones, and who also knows that they are kept within in 
 Butheita's apartment. Yes, the robber knows this, for he is 
 cautiously creeping into the second apartment. But this is 
 not the one who bound him ; it is another. There are therefore 
 more of them. The first, the tall man who bound him, is now 
 waiting at the door of the tent ; the other, the smaller one, is 
 entering the inner apartment. The sheik, powerless to pre- 
 vent, sees all this as he lies bound on his mat. 
 
 Butheita still sleeps soundly. He who glides to her side re- 
 gards her for a moment with an ardent, passionate glance, and 
 then bends down and quickly binds her feet, and her hands, 
 that lie crossed on her breast, with silken cloths. As she 
 awakens and attempts to cry out, he quickly throws a gold- 
 embroidered cuffei over her head, ties it securely around her 
 neck, and then lifts Butheita in his arms. But, as he does so, 
 he whispers in her ear, " Fear nothing, Butheita, no harm will 
 be done you ! " 
 
 A sudden tremor seizes her : she thinks she recognizes this 
 voice. But no, it is impossible. He would not come to her as 
 a robber. No, she is mistaken. Yet she offers no resistance. 
 And what resistance can she offer ? Her hands and feet are 
 bound, and now she is borne out, and lifted high, and then 
 laid down. 
 
 She does not see that she is on her own dromedary. She
 
 450 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 lies on the same cushion in the same palanquin in which she 
 had once held the sarechsme Mohammed Ali a prisoner, and 
 he it is who seats himself beside her. " And now onward, on- 
 ward, my Alpha ! " 
 
 The Nubian mounts his horse, and the swift dromedary 
 speeds his way* through the desert. 
 
 The night is clear, and the moon is shedding a golden lus- 
 tre over the sand, through which the ship of the desert is fly- 
 ing with its rich prize, and behind it the Nubian, his hand on 
 his pistol, ready to shoot down any one who may dare to at- 
 tack his master. 
 
 Now the rider draws rein and stops the dromedary ; the 
 sublime image of the desert-queen, silvered over with the 
 moonlight, towers before them in majestic proportions. 
 
 " This is the desert-queen, the goddess of all the Bedouins ! " 
 cries Mohammed. " Do you wish to see her, Butheita ? I am 
 sorry for you, and would gladly remove the cloth from your 
 head and eyes in order that you may see. But if you are 
 cruel, you might tear my arms with your teeth. Will you do 
 that, Butheita?" 
 
 She starts and shakes her head, inwardly rejoicing, for she 
 recognizes these words, and remembers that she spoke them 
 when he lay a prisoner on the cushion before her. And he 
 now continues to speak just as she spoke then : 
 
 " You shake your head, and I will trust you and loosen 
 your bonds." 
 
 He quickly unties the cuffei and removes it from her head. 
 She looks up at him who is bowed down over her, and the 
 kind moon sheds her soft light upon them, and enables them 
 to see each other. 
 
 Oh, happy moment ! Forgotten is all, forgotten the long 
 separation forgotten, also, that her father will be angry and 
 will grieve for her ! She looks only at him, sees only him, 
 and yet, as he now bends down closer, she turns her face 
 aside. 
 
 Mohammed smiles and points to the sphinx. " Only look 
 at the shadow the moon throws from the dromedary to the 
 mouth of the sphinx ! Look at the two heads there, they are 
 our shadows, and they are kissing each other, Butheita ! "
 
 RETRIBUTION. 45} 
 
 She utters a cry of delight. These were her very words, 
 and, as then, he says, bending over her : 
 
 " Why should our shadows only kiss each other ? Why 
 not our lips, too ? " 
 
 But she shakes her head and says, as she then said : 
 
 " I have promised my father to kiss only that man whom I 
 shall follow to his tent for love. At the door of the tent he 
 may give me the first kiss." 
 
 " And you are still resolved to keep this promise ? " said he, 
 smiling. 
 
 " I am,'* says she, also smiling. " And you, Mohammed, 
 shall never kiss me ! '' she continues, the smile vanishing from 
 her lips, and her countenance assuming an angry expression. 
 " No, you shall never kiss me, for you shall never lead me to 
 your tent as your wife ! Oh, I see it all plainly. You have 
 stolen me from my father to make me a slave ! " 
 
 " Yes," said Mohammed, " I intend you to be a slave, the 
 slave of your love ! For I know you love me, Butheita ! " 
 
 " No ! " she exclaims. " No, I do not love you ! And you 
 have no right to make me a slave. I am the Bedouin queen ; 
 my whole tribe call me so, and the daughters of the Bedouins 
 have never been sold into slavery. No, 1 will not be a slave ! " 
 
 " And yet you shall be the slave of your love ! v 
 
 " I do not love you, I hate you ! '' replies she, crying with 
 anger. " Yes, Mohammed Ali, I hate you, and you shall 
 never kiss me, for I hate the robber who takes me from my 
 father's house in order to make me a slave ! '' 
 
 " Butheita," says he, gently, " I removed the cloth from 
 your lips, but you are not keeping your word ; you tear my 
 heart with your lips, and I must cover them again if you con- 
 tinue to wound me so cruelly." 
 
 " Do so ; close my lips ! They shall say nothing else to 
 you ! " cries she, angrily. u Do so, close my lips and eyes 
 again ! " 
 
 " Well, then, I shall do so." he says, taking the gold-em- 
 broidered cloth and throwing it over her face. " I do so, Bu- 
 theita, because I am not willing the rude wind should kiss the 
 cheek of my beloved ; unwilling the stars should gaze down 
 on you in your loveliness, unwilling the moon should adorn
 
 452 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 your countenance with its lustre. I, alone, will adorn you ; I, 
 alone, will gaze on your loveliness ; and my sighs, alone, shall 
 kiss your cheeks ! Yes, Butheita, you belong to me alone, 
 and shall be my slave, as I am your slave, and yet your mas- 
 ter. Shake your head if you will. I am your master, for you 
 love me. You shake your head again ? You mean to say 
 you hate me ! I don't believe it. Onward, my dromedary, 
 speed through the desert ! Onward, my Alpha ! " 
 
 The dromedary moves on still more rapidly over the 
 desert ; its shadow dances beside them on the sand, and behind 
 them the shadow of the Nubian's steed. 
 
 The moon grows pale, the stars vanish ; day is beginning 
 to dawn. As the sun rises, they reach their destination. 
 
 The dromedary stops at the little gate at the end of the 
 park. Achmed dismounts, and opens the gate. Mohammed 
 has lifted Butheita from the palanquin, and now carries his 
 precious burden into the park. 
 
 All are asleep in the palace. The two glide softly through 
 the park to the door of the harem. Achmed unlocks it, and 
 Mohammed ascends the stairway with noiseless footsteps. No 
 one hears or sees him. Achmed hastens back to care for the 
 horse and the dromedary. Mohammed carries the precious bur- 
 den, that lies quietly in his arms, through the suite of glitter- 
 ing apartments. Butheita sees nothing of the splendor 
 through which they pass, and, if she saw it, would not 
 heed it 
 
 What cares she for gilded rooms ? the desert puts on more 
 glorious attire with each day's dawn, and nothing can be more 
 sublime than the sphinx near the great pyramids. He who 
 has seen that is astonished at nothing else ; to him all things 
 in the houses of men seem petty. 
 
 Mohammed is aware of this, and he understands the heart 
 of the girl he bears in his arms ; he now enters the large room 
 at the end of the apartments of the harem. Here he gently 
 lays her down, and locks the door. The sun has risen and 
 gilds with its light the lattice-work of the windows, throwing 
 little crimson circles on the mat that covers the floor. Mo- 
 hammed unties the silken scarf that binds Butheita's feet, and 
 assists her to stand up.
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 " Arise, Buiheita, for you are about to enter into a new life 
 Arise ! " 
 
 He also unties the scarf that binds her hands, and she now 
 stands before him with her face veiled. He gently removes 
 the cuffei from her head. Her large black eyes glance around 
 the wide space, and she sees the tent that looks exactly like 
 her father's. She turns her eyes on Mohammed with a loving 
 glance. He draws her to his heart. 
 
 " Are you still resolved, Butheita, that he only shall kiss 
 you who leads you to his tent as his wife. And will you only 
 allow him to kiss you at the door of the tent ? " 
 
 " I am still so resolved ! " she exclaims, but in joyous tones. 
 " I am still so resolved ! " 
 
 Mohammed lifts her in his arms and carries her to the tent. 
 
 " Butheita, this is my tent ! I lead you into it as my wife. 
 Butheita, may I now kiss you ? " 
 
 She makes no answer, but, with a loud cry, throws herself 
 upon his breast, and kisses him passionately. Mohammed en- 
 circles Butheita with his arms, and bears her into his tent. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 THE citadel presents a scene of great animation ; its apart- 
 ments, especially those in which the viceroy's sons are to re- 
 side, are richly adorned and hung with flowers. All the 
 doors are thrown open, and a number of richly-attired female 
 slaves are standing in the hall at the head of the grand stair- 
 way which is covered with costly carpets from Damascus. 
 
 The citadel has put on festive attire in honor of the wife 
 and sons of the viceroy Mohammed Ali, who are expected to 
 arrive to-day. 
 
 The people are repairing in vast numbers to Boulak on the 
 shore of the Nile, where the viceroy is to receive his family, 
 and it is whispered among them that she who has resided in 
 the palace of the Esbekieh is not his first, but a second wife.
 
 454: MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 No one has seen her, but very beautiful she must be, else her 
 husband would not guard her so closely. No one has seen 
 her, but a woman certainly dwells there in the harem ; its 
 windows are lighted up at night, and eunuchs stand guard 
 outside ; veiled slaves have also been seen going in and out of 
 the palace. Yes, the harem has an occupant, but it is only the 
 second wife who lives there ; the first is to arrive to-day with 
 her sons from Alexandria ! 
 
 The people repair in vast numbers to Boulak, to be present 
 at the reunion of the family of their viceroy, who has already 
 made himself beloved by his subjects. He throws money 
 among the poor when he drives through Cairo. He is just, 
 and punishes the guilty with perfect impartiality, the fellah 
 and courtier alike. 
 
 Mohammed, accompanied by his officers, has ridden down 
 to Boulak, where two landings have been prepared, and richly 
 adorned with carpets, flowers, and overhanging silken awn- 
 ings. Here, at the landing where the viceroy and his generals 
 are waiting, will the sons, and at the other, where the women 
 stand, will the wife arrive. 
 
 The viceroy, erect in his stirrups, looks down the river, and 
 he is the first to discover the red flags that appear above the 
 horizon. The sight of the father is keener than that of the curi- 
 ous. A smile lights up his countenance, and he turns to Has- 
 san, who stands beside him. " They are coming, Hassan ; 
 my sons are coming ! " 
 
 " Yes, they are coming ! The princes are coming ! " cry . 
 the people. The splendid vessel approaches nearer and 
 nearer ; the flags flutter gayly in the sunshine ; and now Mo- 
 hammed sees the three figures, standing on the deck, waving 
 white handkerchiefs in their outstretched hands. These are 
 his sons. How changed the three boys seem to the father ! 
 These are no longer boys, they are now youths. It is, how- 
 ever, not strange that they have altered in appearance ; great 
 changes take place in five years. 
 
 The vessel lands, and his sons spring quickly to the shore. 
 The viceroy, Mohammed Ali, had determined to make the 
 meeting a theatrical spectacle for the people. The people love 
 such spectacles, and they were to be permitted to look into the
 
 CONCLUSION. 455 
 
 sanctuary of his domestic life as through a glass door. Such 
 had been his purpose. But at the moment, all this is forgot- 
 ten, and it is not the viceroy, dismounting in a stately manner 
 from his horse to receive his sons, his first servants ; it is only 
 the father who springs with a single bound from his saddle, 
 encircles his three sons in one embrace, presses them to his 
 heart, and kisses them tenderly. 
 
 The people shout with delight, " Long live our viceroy and 
 the princes ! " The guns of the citadel thunder forth a greet- 
 ing, and announce to the people that the viceroy no longer 
 rules alone, but that his sons now rule with him. The welfare 
 of the land is assured, for the existence of the ruling house is 
 assured. 
 
 The young princes mount the horses held in readiness 
 for them, and ride into the city beside their father. The 
 thunder of the cannon resounds continuously, shout after 
 shout rends the air, the band of the regiment of soldiers that 
 had been drawn up at the landing to receive the princes, joins 
 in the acclaim with merry strains of music, and the regiment 
 falls into line, and marches behind the viceroy and his suite. 
 Dense masses of people, Turks and Armenians, Copts and 
 Jews, Arabs and fellahs, throng the streets through which 
 they pass. On the imposing procession moves toward the 
 citadel. 
 
 At the same time a splendid debahieh has landed at the 
 second place ; it is the wife of Mohammed Ali, who stands on 
 the deck. No soldiers, and in fact no men, await her on the 
 shore. A wide space about the landing is kept free by the 
 eunuchs, who drive the curious back with threatening ges- 
 tures. Hundreds of women stand on either side of the land- 
 ing-place in long rows, their heads enveloped in long white 
 veils that fall down over the splendid dresses glittering with 
 silver embroidery. 
 
 Mohammed has commanded that all the women of Cairo 
 should go down to Boulak to meet his wife Ada, and obey they 
 must, they well know, for he is certain to punish disobedience 
 to his commands. They were also to tender her presents upon 
 their arrival at the palace. 
 
 She stands on the deck, gazing around with indifference at
 
 456 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 the spectacle before her. She is looking for him only for 
 her husband. But he is nowhere to be seen. He does not re- 
 ceive her. It would probably not become the great ruler to 
 welcome his wife before the world. No one must perceive 
 that the viceroy is also a husband, a man ! 
 
 Yes, she has already heard of this : the heart must not be 
 laid bare to the world, for the world ridicules it. 
 
 This is why Mohammed is not there. She draws her veil 
 more closely about her, and, conducted by the eunuchs, de- 
 scends slowly the stairway, strewed with flowers, to the land- 
 ing-place, where the women press forward to greet her. 
 
 " Welcome, Sitta Ada ! Blessed be your coming ! Allah's 
 blessings upon you, Sitta Ada ! " 
 
 Hundreds of voices repeat the words. She is glad to escape 
 these noisy greetings by entering the gilded coach that now 
 drives up to the landing-place. The equipage moves on slow- 
 ly, followed by the procession of women who are to accom- 
 pany her to the citadel. 
 
 It is well that the curtains are drawn over the windows of 
 the carriage, and that no one can see the tears that burst 
 from Sitta Ada's eyes, or hear the sighs that escape her 
 breast. 
 
 " Oh that I had remained in Cavalla ! This cold splendor 
 alarms me ! Would that Mohammed had received me quietly, 
 pressed me to his heart and said, ' Welcome, Ada welcome to 
 my heart and home ! " 
 
 Is she welcome ? He rejoices in his sons, now growing up 
 to manhood, and soon to accompany him to battle and become 
 heroes. In his joy over his sons, he has forgotten the wife 
 who is now approaching the citadel with her brilliant suite. 
 He is first reminded of her presence by the thunder of the 
 guns that announce her arrival at the citadel. The reception 
 must, however, be completed. He has arranged every thing 
 with the master of ceremonies, who is to conduct his queen 
 into the grand audience-chamber to the throne that stands on 
 a scaffold under a purple canopy. 
 
 Ada's heart trembles as she approaches it, and her thoughts 
 are with the house in Cavalla. Oh that Mohammed Ali had 
 returned to live with her there ! " Departed are all the sweets
 
 CONCLUSION. 457 
 
 of domestic happiness for poor Ada ! " a voice whispers in her 
 heart. 
 
 The women now come forward, four at a time, and with 
 loud congratulations lay the presents at her feet, the golden 
 dishes, the jewelled buckles, the gold-inworked cloths, and 
 every thing that delights the heart of woman. With kindly 
 words Ada thanks them for their gifts, hardly realizing what 
 they are. She thanks Allah when the affair is concluded, and 
 the master of ceremonies approaches, and with a deferential 
 bearing requests her to descend from the throne, and walk to 
 the door that leads to the inner apartments. It alarms her to 
 walk between the long rows of women who bow low as she 
 passes. But behind the door are the private apartments, and 
 there she will be alone. This thought cheers her as she walks 
 on unconscious that a number of female slaves are following 
 her to the private apartments. Those who fill such exalted 
 stations as that of the wife of the Viceroy of Egypt, know no 
 solitude, not even in their private apartments. The slaves 
 now gather around her, fall on their knees, and swear to serve 
 her faithfully, and her first maid asks if her gracious mistress 
 will now retire to the toilet-chamber to change her dress. She 
 dares not refuse, and allows herself to be conducted thither, 
 where the most splendid garments lie in readiness for her. 
 She makes no selection, but permits her women to dress her as 
 they think proper. This is at last concluded, and one of them 
 now announces that she may enter the private apartments, 
 where his highness the viceroy is to receive her. 
 
 Her heart throbs wildly, like the heart of a young girl, as 
 she enters the apartment. At the entrance she stands still, 
 timidly. Alas ! he is not yet there the room is empty. The 
 viceroy makes no haste to greet his wife. 
 
 The door now opens, and Mohammed Ali enters. 
 
 Ah! she would hardly have recognized him ; to her he 
 seems quite changed. His countenance is so radiant, his bear- 
 ing so proud, so splendid his gold-embroidered uniform, so 
 gracious the smile with which he advances to meet her, so 
 gracious the manner in which he extends his hand and smiles 
 on her. Ada is conscious that it is the viceroy, the good friend, 
 who stands before her : but the husband it is not 
 80
 
 458 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " Welcome, dear Ada ! " lie says, in kindly tones. Ah ! she 
 is familiar with these loveless tones. " Welcome, dear Ada ; 
 I rejoice heartily to see you again after this long separa- 
 tion." 
 
 She takes his hand, presses it in her own, and looks at him 
 earnestly. 
 
 "Yes, after so long a separation ; do you know how 
 long we have been separated ? Do you feel it in your 
 heart?" 
 
 " I well know how long, Ada. We have been separated 
 five years," he replies, with a kindly smile. " You see five 
 years have effected great changes." 
 
 "Yes," murmurs she, releasing his hand. "They have 
 brought about great changes. I see it, Mohammed. 1 ' 
 
 " But, dear Ada, my heart and my affection for you are un- 
 changed," he says, gently. " I shall ever honor you, Ada, as 
 my first wife, as the mother of my first-born sons. Yes, as 
 my first wife." 
 
 She bows her head. She understands the tone with which 
 Mohammed had pronounced that fearful word. Yes, she 
 understands it, and bows her head in humility. And what 
 would opposition avail her ? The law of the prophet allows 
 the man to have several wives. Love is fleeting, and its ardor 
 soon passes away after marriage. Friendship is the successor 
 of love, and men say this is happiness. 
 
 The women sigh, and bow their heads in silence. 
 
 What would it avail Ada to rise in arms against Moham- 
 med's words, " My first wife " ? 
 
 "Yes. Ada, you will ever remain my first wife, the 
 honored mother of my sons. You will ever remain my 
 friend." 
 
 Yes, that was the word. She closes her eyes and shud- 
 ders. 
 
 " "Pis well. Your friend, Mohammed ! I will not, how- 
 ever, honor you as my friend, but as my lord, and as the man 
 I have loved alone and best on earth ! " 
 
 He gently encircles her neck with his arm, and impresses 
 a kiss on her forehead. Such a kiss as makes the heart of the 
 woman who loves writhe in anguish.
 
 CONCLUSION. 459 
 
 Now he begins to speak to her, in gay tones, of his hand- 
 some, manly sons. 
 
 " They shall come to greet their mother ; they are waiting 
 in the next room." 
 
 He walks hastily to the door, opens it, and the three boys 
 enter, each holding a small package wrapped in paper in his 
 hand. 
 
 " What do you bring me, boys ? " asks Mohammed, seating 
 himself on a divan, and calling them to his side. 
 
 " What do we bring you, father ? " says the eldest, Ibrahim. 
 ''We have brought you keepsakes from Ca valla, and with 
 them we wish to show you that we have learned something, 
 and have endeavored to imitate you. The merchant, Lion, 
 has often told me how daring a boatman you were, and I 
 determined to learn to manage a boat and defy the treacher- 
 ous waves, also." 
 
 The viceroy regards his son with a radiant smile. The 
 boy's sparkling eyes gladden his heart and inspires it with 
 high hopes. 
 
 " I rejoice in you, Ibrahim, and expect you to become a 
 hero," cries Mohammed. " Continue. You were resolved to 
 defy the waves "' 
 
 " Yes, father, and I did learn to make the waves obey me r 
 and I became the best boatman in Praousta. I also learned 
 to dive, and no diver could surpass me. To prove what I say, 
 I have brought you this keepsake. I brought it up from the 
 depths of the sea ; it was tied up in a bag. I dragged it to the 
 shore and opened it. And what do you suppose it contained, 
 father? Only think, a skeleton! As these were the first 
 things I had taken out of the deep as a diver I have brought 
 you something out of the bag as a keepsake. Here it is, I 
 lay it at your feet." 
 
 " From the depths of the sea ? '' repeated the viceroy, with 
 pallid cheeks. " Tell me, Ibrahim, were you diving off the 
 shore of Praousta ? " 
 
 " Yes, father. You know the shore is steep, and the sea 
 deep, close in to the beach. There I dived and found the bag, 
 with which I swam to the shore. The bag contained bones, 
 and also that which I have brought you."
 
 460 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 " A bag that contained a skeleton ? " repeated Mohammed, 
 with quivering lips. " And what is it you have brought me ? " 
 
 '' A tress of hair a tress of long, black hair. It must have 
 been a woman that was cast into the sea in the bag." 
 
 Mohammed does not take the package from his son's hand, 
 and Ibrahim lays it at his feet and looks at him with astonish- 
 ment. He is completely changed ; his cheeks are pallid and 
 his eyes dim. Ada also observes this change with dismay, 
 and calls her sons to her side. Aroused by her voice, Mo- 
 hammed awakens from his stupor, and waves his hand as if 
 to ward off some spectre. 
 
 "And what have you brought me, Ismail ? and you, 
 Toussoun ? " 
 
 " We have also brought you keepsakes from Cavalla," they 
 reply. " We endeavored to make of ourselves what you were 
 when a boy. We were told that you had been a famous 
 climber, that no rock was too high, and the entrance to no 
 cave too narrow, for you. And we discovered a large cave 
 down by the shore, near Praousta. It was necessary to creep 
 through a long, narrow passage to get into it, and what do 
 you think we found there ? It seemed as if people had lived 
 there there were cushions and all sorts of things scattered 
 around on the floor. Oh, we often enjoyed ourselves in the 
 cave, singing songs, and eating fruit we had taken there with 
 us. However, when we visited the cave for the last time, we 
 determined, each of us, to bring you a keepsake from it, and 
 here are the things we have brought. I bring you a beauti- 
 ful little cup I found there." 
 
 "And I bring you a piece of cloth a beautiful gold-em- 
 broidered cuffei which I found .in the cave. It is very hand- 
 some, only there are a few spots, as though blood had dropped 
 on it." 
 
 And, like Ibrahim, the two boys also lay the packages they 
 had brought at their father's feet. He sits there for a 
 moment as motionless and pale as a marble statue, and then 
 motions, with his hand toward the door. He cannot speak, he 
 only motions to them to leave the room, and the boys hasten 
 to their mother's side in alarm. Ada takes them by the hand 
 and leaves the room with them.
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 461 
 
 Mohammed is now alone with his sons' offerings. 
 He stares down at them for a while, and then takes up the 
 package Ibrahim had laid at his feet. 
 
 He tears it open, and there lies Masa's long, hlack hair. A 
 cry escapes his lips ! It is not the viceroy, not the man, who 
 cries out. It is the death-cry of his first love ! 
 
 He presses the hair to his lips, and two tears trickle slowly 
 down his cheeks. His gaze fastens on his Masa's hair in a 
 long, painful glance. 
 
 He had often kissed these tresses while they clung to her 
 beloved head. He now kisses them for the last time, and then 
 conceals them in his bosom. 
 
 He bends down again and takes up the presents of his 
 other sons. 
 
 He remembers the cup well. Masa had often drunk out 
 of it. 
 
 He kisses the rim of the cup, the place where Masa's crimson 
 lips had touched ; he then carefully places it on the cushion be- 
 side him. 
 
 He now takes up the third present the gold-embroidered 
 cuffei he had purchased for Masa from the merchant, Lion. 
 
 She wore it around her neck for the last time when he 
 pressed her to his heart and took leave of her for a short time, 
 as he thought. She wore it when he left her that night, and 
 when he returned she was gone, and he did not see her again 
 until her death-hour. 
 
 He holds the cloth up before him, and sees the dark- red 
 spots her blood ! She had struggled with her captor, and he 
 had injured her shoulder, where the cloth rested, with the 
 point of his dagger ! He can tell this by the incision in the 
 cloth where the spots of blood are. 
 
 This is Masa's blood, shed for him ! He kisses the spot, 
 and binds the cloth around his neck the cloth she has worn, 
 the cloth inscribed with her blood ! A holy remembrance of 
 her, he will never part with it. It shall protect him from the 
 rude wind of the world. 
 
 He lays his hand on Masa's tresses again ; he looks at the 
 cup, and sits there motionless, absorbed in thought, for a long 
 time.
 
 462 MOHAMMED ALI AND HIS HOUSE. 
 
 His whole past rises up before him. He is once more at 
 home, on the rude rock where he spent his youth. 
 
 He sees every thing once more ; sees, also, the pale face of 
 his Osman, of his dear friend. 
 
 He is dead his sons have told him that Osman is dead. 
 
 "It is well for him that he is, he suffered much," he mur- 
 murs, in low tones. " I, also, have suffered much. And yet I 
 have also experienced much happiness, and shall probably do 
 so in the future, also,'' he continues, in louder tones. " Sink 
 down behind me, past ! the future is mine. And now be 
 strong, Mohammed ; arise and be a man ! The past is at an 
 end ! Masa, you have to-day sent me a greeting through my 
 sons. Farewell ! Now I belong to the present and to the 
 future. Farewell !" 
 
 He rises, walks with firm footstep through the apartment, 
 and enters the room where Ada and his sons are awaiting 
 him. 
 
 "Come, my sons, I will show you my capital, the most 
 beautiful of all cities I will show you Cairo. Come ! " 
 
 He takes his sons by the hand, and, alas ! he forgets the 
 poor woman who is regarding him tenderly, and down whose 
 cheeks two tears slowly trickle as the door closes behind him. 
 
 Mohammed leads his sons through the long suite of splen- 
 did apartments, which they regard with wonder, into the grand 
 reception-chamber, and steps out with them upon the balcony. 
 The beautiful city of Cairo now lies spread out before them. 
 Over there glitters the Nile, like a silver ribbon, and beyond 
 tower aloft the wondrous forms of the great Pyramids of 
 Gheezeh. 
 
 A cry of delight escapes the lips of the boys. " Oh, how 
 beautiful, how glorious, father ! " 
 
 " Yes, beautiful is Cairo ; beautiful is Egypt, my sons. All 
 that you see spread out before you is mine. I am the ruler of 
 Egypt ; you shall be its rulers after me, and our house shall 
 become great and glorious. This I swear, by Allah ! I will 
 not, like my predecessors, be deposed from my throne and de- 
 scend the hill on which stands the proud citadel of Cairo. I 
 swear, by Allah, that my house shall continue to rule over 
 Egypt, and it shall be inscribed in the books of history : 'Mo-
 
 CONCLUSION. 463 
 
 hammed All was the first free viceroy of Egypt, and his sons 
 succeeded him on the throne.' Swear to me, my sons, that 
 you will one day become good and just rulers over Egypt ! " 
 
 '' We swear that we will, father ! We will one day become 
 good and just rulers over Egypt ! " the three boys reply, as 
 with one voice, their eyes sparkling, their countenances radiant 
 with the light of high resolve. 
 
 " You have heard it, Allah !" cries the father, in solemn 
 tones, his head bowed down, his right hand uplifted. " I will 
 firmly establish the rule of my house, and my sons have sworn 
 to become good and just rulers. Then be thou, also, our gra- 
 cious ruler, and with thy great prophet, Mohammed, look down 
 with favor upon the four human beings who stand humbly in 
 thy presence ! Not the vassal of the grand-sultan at Stamboul, 
 but the free, independent viceroy, will I be, and after me shall 
 my sons rule this I swear ! Seal thou my resolve with thy 
 blessing, O Allah ! " 
 
 (5) 
 
 THE END.
 
 8k 1 
 
 I