HASSAN OR THE CHILD OF THE PYRAMID (continued 2)

On a fine autumnal day, about the middle of October, the Thorpe party embarked on the dahabiahs destined to convey them on their Nile expedition. The boats were moored to the banks of the Mahmoudiah canal, just opposite the pleasant and shady garden then occupied by Moharrem Bey, a relation of the Viceroy’s by marriage.

As donkey followed donkey, and porter followed porter to the place of embarkation, the active Greek distributed the packages in their several places; but the space and his patience were wellnigh exhausted by their variety and multitude. There were Mr Thorpe’s clothes and books and measuring instruments, and a box of tools for excavation. Then endless boxes and books and other sundries, the greater part of which Demetri considered as useless, were all to be added to the well-filled 71hampers of wine, spirits, tea, sugar, preserves, pickles, and a thousand other things with which his assiduity and Mr Thorpe’s guineas had filled every available bunker and corner of the boats.

Hassan had gone down early to the place of embarkation, not knowing the hour at which the start was to take place; so Demetri availed himself of this circumstance to make him his lieutenant, in urging the porters and the sailors to hasten the stowage of the multifarious baggage.

“By your head, Hassan, you are welcome!” cried the busy Greek; “had you not come, we should not have finished this work to-day, for these fellows are asses and the sons and grandsons of asses. Here—here, you blind dog!” shouted he to a sturdy fellow who was carrying a hamper into the smaller dahabiah, “did I not tell you to put that in the large boat?”

Here he paused, and said in an undertone to Hassan—

“Mr Foyster and I keep the wine-store in this boat, to have it under our own eye. The tutor and the young gentleman are in the small boat, and they cannot require wine.”

“If they are to study,” replied Hassan, smiling, “I doubt not that Nile water would be better for them; but you should know better than I, who am not a student or a drinker of wine.”

“That is the only fault you have, my lad,” said Demetri; “there is nothing like wine to open the 72heart and brighten the eye. Oh! you pig,” shouted he to another burly fellow going towards the cabin door; “are you going to carry that kafass full of fowls into the ladies’ sleeping cabin?” So saying, he jumped upon the luckless porter, and with a few smart blows of his courbatch sent him forward with his chicken-load.

With the assistance of Hassan, Demetri contrived to get the multifarious boxes into something like order and arrangement by the time that a cloud of dust and the braying of half-a-dozen donkeys announced the approach of the Thorpe party.

Once fairly embarked, the boats, sometimes under easy sail, sometimes tracked from the shore, wound their slow way along the waters of the Mahmoudiah.

The voyage from Alexandria to Atfeh, the point at which the canal joins the Nile, is of itself dull, and is so familiar, either by experience or description, to the world in general, that it scarcely merits a separate notice. Still, as Emily Thorpe kept a journal, as many girls are in the habit of doing, a few pages therefrom may be transcribed, to give a further account of the voyage in the dahabiah:—

“I am surprised to hear that the Mahmoudiah canal, although cut by the present Viceroy at an enormous cost of money and of human life, through a country perfectly flat, is as winding in its course as a path through a labyrinth. On asking Demetri, 73our dragoman, if he could explain the cause of this, he answered me by a story—for he has a story ready for almost every occasion. The very same question, he says, was lately put to Mohammed Ali by a French engineer travelling through Egypt. The Pasha said to the engineer—

“‘Have you ever seen rivers in Europe?’

“‘Yes, sir, many.’

“‘Are they straight or crooked in their course?’

“‘They are generally crooked, sir.’

“‘Who made the rivers?’ inquired the Pasha.

“‘They were made by Allah,’ said the astonished engineer.

“‘Then, sir,’ concluded the Pasha triumphantly, ‘do you expect me to know and to do better than Allah?’

“The poor engineer had no reply to make to this strange argument, so he took his leave and went his way.

“I hope we shall soon see this extraordinary man, who has raised himself from the position of a subaltern to the viceroyalty of Egypt. He is now staying at a small country-house that he has built on the banks of the Nile, about fifty miles above this place.

“On the first day we had mostly contrary winds, and the tracking a boat of this size is slower than a snail’s gallop. Hassan having seen some wild ducks flying over a marsh at no great distance, went in search of them. In the evening 74he brought back five or six. But yesterday was our first adventure.

“We were sailing up the canal, the breeze being favourable, though very slight, when at a bend or sharp turn we came suddenly upon a large boat like our own, coming from Atfeh to Alexandria. Whether owing to a sudden change of course, or to some mismanagement on the part of one of the pilots, I know not, but the two boats came together with a fearful crash. The rigging of both was damaged, and for some minutes the vessels were locked to each other near the prow, the men being unable to extricate them. It seemed that the crew of the other boat was far more numerous than ours, and amongst others I noticed a man dressed in a military blue frock, who, Demetri told me afterwards, was a kawàss of the Viceroy.

“The noise, the yells that ensued, and the volumes of (to me unintelligible) abuse that were interchanged, baffle all description; but as no one seemed to think of disengaging the vessels, but all were bent upon gesticulations which became every minute more hostile, I felt seriously alarmed. Hassan, who had been sitting in his usual place behind our divan, seeing my alarm, came up to me and said with a smile (for he speaks English tolerably well)—

“‘Do not be afraid, lady; these fellahs make a great deal of noise, but there is no danger.’

“Even as he was speaking, the man in the blue coat, who seemed to be in a perfect fury, and to be 75urging his men to board our boat and beat our crew, caught up a stone or brick, which happened to come within his reach. Whether he aimed it at Hassan, or the rais, or me, I know not, but it just grazed my head, drawing a little blood from the upper part of my cheek.

“Hassan’s countenance changed in a moment; his eyes shone like lightning; it was terrible to see such concentrated fury in that young face, so gentle in its habitual expression. Calling the rais to hold up his large cloak before me to shield me from further harm, he sprang to the lower deck, and ran forward to the prow where the boat had been entangled. Before he reached the spot they had become disengaged, I know not how, and ours was beginning slowly to resume its course; clearing the intervening space at a bound, he leapt alone upon the deck of the other boat. There he was met and attacked by a man with what they call here a naboot, a thick heavy stick. Hassan wrenched it from the man’s grasp, and whirling it round his head, and calling on the others to stand back, he forced his way to the spot where stood the kawàss who had thrown the stone; the latter drew his sword, but Hassan’s blow fell with such terrific force that the sword was shivered, and the man fell senseless on the deck.

“We could see that four or five of the boat’s crew struck at Hassan and grappled with him, endeavouring to throw him down and bind him, 76but he shook them off by the exertion of his tremendous strength, and plunging overboard into the canal swam to the opposite bank; two of the boat’s crew jumped in and swam after him, but he reached the shore before them. He then ran along the bank till he overtook our boat, which was now going steadily through the water with a fair wind, and plunging into the canal again, caught a rope thrown to him by our rais, and in a minute was safely on board.”

The two dahabiahs had passed through the locks of Atfeh, and were just about to commence their course up the broad stream of the Nile when a kawàss from the Governor of the town came to the water’s edge and desired the rais of the larger boat to stay a few minutes, as he had a message to deliver to the English traveller.

On being presented to Mr Thorpe, at whose side stood Demetri as interpreter, the kawàss said he was instructed by the Governor to desire that an Arab on board, charged with assaulting and beating one of the servants of the Viceroy, might be given up to him.

Mr Thorpe, whose experience of Eastern travel was small, but who was at the same time too humane to think of giving up Hassan to the tender mercies of the Atfeh authorities, consulted apart with Demetri, and then replied—

“Tell the Governor that I have a complaint to make against the captain and crew of the boat 77which ran into and damaged mine; and also against that servant of the Viceroy who, without any right or provocation, threw a brick at my daughter, which struck her, and might have killed her. I am now on my way to Cairo, where the rights of the case will be examined by the English Consul and the Egyptian Government: then if any person in this boat shall be judged to be in fault he can be punished.”

The kawàss, not having any reply ready to meet this reasonable proposal, permitted the boats to proceed on their way, and retired to deliver the message to his principal.

Unlike the Rhine, the Rhone, and other great rivers in Europe, which are, as it were, merely beneficial accidents in the countries through which they flow, the Nile is the creator and perpetuator, as well as the fertiliser, of the whole soil of Egypt. Wherever its prolific waters annually irrigate and subside, there spring up in exuberant abundance the grains and herbs of the field, the flowers and fruits of the garden, the almond and pomegranate, the fruitful palm, the fragrant orange and lemon, the cotton-plant and the sugar-cane, and, more frequent than all, the widespread shade of the sycomore.^[31] In Egypt it is unnecessary to inquire where vegetation ceases and the desert begins: from the Cataracts to the Mediterranean the 78answer would be always the same—whatever spot or line the waters of the Nile can reach there is, or may be, cultivation; all beyond that line is desert. The feelings of the party on attaining the fine view of this glorious river were various as their habits and characters.

Hassan reclined near the rais, reading snatches of his ‘Arabian Nights,’ and occasionally casting his eyes over the desert sandhills to the west, endeavouring to recognise among them some spot which he had passed in his expeditions with the Oulâd-Ali. The boats glided swiftly forward through the turbid stream under the impulse of a fair and fresh breeze, their crews seated lazily round the mast, passing their pipe from mouth to mouth, when Demetri, to whom everything like silence or quiet was naturally repugnant, came aft and asked Mr Thorpe whether he would like to hear the crew sing an Arab boat-song.

Emily’s reply, “Oh! papa, let us hear it by all means!” anticipated and ensured the old gentleman’s consent. Demetri acted as leader, and beat the time with a cane in his hand, which he every now and then allowed to descend pretty sharply on the shoulders of any luckless wight who did not open his jaws and his throat to the utmost extent at the recurrence of the burden or chorus which terminated every verse.

The orchestra consisted of a miserable apology for a kettle-drum (called in Egypt a darabooka) played 79by a fellow who swayed his head and shoulders backwards and forwards to the time of the song. The tone was so strange and its vibrations so shrill as the fellow half shut one eye and threw up his head sideways to strain his voice to the utmost pitch, that Emily was fain to put up her handkerchief to her face, to hide the laugh which she could not resist, and shield her ears from the dissonant shrillness of the sound. When, however, he came down from these indescribable counter-tenor heights^[32] to a more natural tone, and Emily was able to follow the cadence of the song, especially of the wild and irregular chorus which terminated every verse, she began to find it more tolerable, and afterwards even pleasing in its effect.

Hassan being called upon by Mr Thorpe to explain the words, felt not a little confused; for independently of the fact that his knowledge of English was imperfect, it is certain that these songs of the Nile boatmen are extremely difficult to translate, sometimes from the elliptical vagueness of their language, sometimes from its plain and unveiled indecency; he succeeded, however, in giving the general meaning of the song, which cast roughly into English rhyme would run as follows:—

80“O night! O night! O night! you’re better far than day;

O night! O night! O night! the Eastern sky is grey;

O night! O night! O night! a little longer stay;

To the girls of Damanhour speed on our homeward way.

Chorus.

The girls of Damanhour, like young gazelles at play,

The girls of Damanhour, none half so fair as they.

“O night! O night! O night! my love is far away,

O night! O night! O night! her form’s a willow spray;^[33]

O night! O night! O night! my heart is fallen a prey

To Damanhour eyes, like those of fawn at play.

Chorus.

Oh the girls of Damanhour, like young gazelles at play;

The girls of Damanhour, none half so fair as they.”

“Are the ladies of Damanhour so fair as they are described?” inquired Emily.

“I know not,” replied Hassan, smiling, “for I was never there excepting once or twice, and then only for a day or two; but I doubt their beauty, lady, for what are they but fellahs? Doubtless the song was written by some Damanhour rhymer, and we have a proverb in Arabic, ‘My children are fairer than yours,’ said the crow to the parrot.”

“Do you despise the fellahs, Hassan?” said Mr Thorpe.

“Despise them! No,” replied the youth (his countenance betraying the pride which his tongue disavowed); “Allah made them, and they are good 81to cultivate the ground—nothing more. The ox and the donkey are useful animals, but neither is an Arab horse.”

On the following day the dahabiahs continued their course up the Nile without accident or adventure, when, as they reached a bend in the river called Zauràt-el-Bahr, the party assembled on their decks saw before them at the distance of a few miles a number of tents, horsemen, and other indications of a large encampment.

On interrogating the rais, Mr Thorpe learnt that from these indications the presence of Mohammed Ali in person might certainly be inferred, he having built near that spot a small country-house, to which he occasionally resorted while inspecting the canals and other improvements which he had recently ordered to be made in the province of Menoufiah.

As the dahabiahs drew near the encampment, and Mr Thorpe was doubting whether he could gratify the curiosity he had long felt to see the celebrated founder of the new Egyptian dynasty, a six-oared boat, with an officer in the stern-sheets, darted out from the bank and was alongside in a moment. Stepping on deck with a polite salute, he said he believed that he had the pleasure of seeing the English lord who had lately come up from Alexandria on his way to Cairo.^[34]

82Demetri having been desired to reply in the affirmative, the officer continued—

“The Viceroy has heard of your coming, and orders me to say that he hopes you will not find it inconvenient to remain here to-night, and to breakfast with his Highness to-morrow morning, with all your party.”

Mr Thorpe having desired Demetri to accept the invitation on his part with due acknowledgments of the Viceroy’s courtesy, the Greek made a most flowery speech upon the occasion, the half of which, at least, was of his own invention. It conveyed, however, the required acceptance; and the officer having withdrawn, the boats were made fast to the shore, a few hundred yards from the garden attached to the Viceroy’s villa. Guards were sent down to protect them from thieves during the night, and half-a-dozen sheep, fifty fowls, and several baskets of fruit were sent on board by his Highness’s order.

Mr Thorpe and all his party were pleasantly surprised at the agreeable opportunity thus offered by the Viceroy’s unexpected courtesy of seeing one whom they justly considered as a celebrity of his time. Mr Thorpe, though believing that the Viceroy’s invitation had been specially intended to include the ladies, sent Demetri on shore, desiring him to ascertain the point from one of the chamberlains. Demetri returned with a message that, as Mr Thorpe was accompanied by his wife 83and daughter, the Viceroy hoped to be honoured by their presence at breakfast.

On the following morning, at the appointed hour, an officer and several servants of the Viceroy’s household came down to the boats to conduct the party to his Highness’s presence, Demetri accompanying them in his capacity of dragoman. Mrs Thorpe and Emily had not omitted to follow the advice given them by the British Consul in Alexandria, and on landing from their boat they each wore a thick green veil over their face. The precaution was not unnecessary, for they had to pass through a great crowd of soldiers, Mamelukes, and attendants, all of whom stared with eager curiosity at the Frank ladies, whose dress and appearance presented a novelty to Egyptian eyes.

On reaching the villa, after passing through an antechamber, at the door of which were two sentries with musket and bayonet, they came to a silk curtain fringed with gold. The conductor raised it, and they found themselves in the presence of Mohammed Ali.

At the period of our tale Mohammed Ali was at the high tide of his personal and political career. Though upwards of fifty-five years—the latter half of them spent in constant warfare or intrigue—had passed over his head, they had not impaired either the energy of his mind or the activity of his frame.

All opposition to his government had been subdued: the scattered remnants of the Mameluke beys 84whom he had overthrown were fugitives in remote parts of the Soudan. The Divan at Constantinople had found itself compelled to treat him rather like an independent ally than a powerful vassal. Nubia, and the countries fertilised by the White and the Blue Nile, had submitted to his arms. He had restored the holy cities, Mecca and Medina, to the dominion of the Sultan, and had brought under subjection the warlike and independent tribes of Arabia—the sands of whose desert fastnesses had never before been trodden by the foot of a foreign invader. Even the dreaded Wahabees, the terror of whose fanatic arms extended across the Arabian peninsula from the Red Sea to the Persian Gulf, had been unable to oppose any effectual resistance to his well-disciplined troops. Their great chief, Souhoud, had fallen. Deraiah, his capital, in the wild recesses of the Nejd, had been taken and plundered, and his son and successor, Abdallah, with all his family, had graced as captives the conqueror’s triumph in Cairo.

After all these successes in foreign and domestic warfare, he turned his attention to the improvement and development of his acquired dominions; and in these pursuits evinced the same energy, if not always the same sagacity, that had marked his military career. His first object was to free the valley of the Nile from the depredations of the Bedouins on the bordering deserts; and having learnt from experience the difficulty, not to say the 85impossibility, of chastising the incursions of their flying squadrons with his regular troops, he adopted the plan of weakening them by division among themselves. With this view he cultivated the friendship of the chiefs of several of the more powerful tribes, whom he gained over to his interest by timely donations of money, dresses of honour, and land for the pasturage of their flocks; in return for which favours they were ready at his call to pour forth their numerous horsemen in pursuit of any predatory bands of other Bedouin tribes who ventured to make hostile incursions into his territory. By this prudent adoption of the well-known principle of “divide et impera,” he had succeeded in so far weakening their general power that the cultivated provinces in Egypt already enjoyed a state of comparative tranquillity.

This object attained, he turned the energies of his active mind to the increase of his revenue; and not satisfied with those resources of agriculture which nature has indicated to be the chief if not the only wealth of Egypt, he already thought of rivalling at Boulak the silks of Lyons, the looms of Manchester, and the foundries of Birmingham. It was while his head was full of these projects, in the prosecution of which machinery of every kind was daily pouring into the country, that he received the visit of Mr Thorpe and his party.

At the time of their entrance he was seated on a divan in the corner of the room farthest from the 86door, and beside him stood a middle-aged man whom they conjectured to be his dragoman. He rose from his seat and received them with the polite urbanity for which he was distinguished, and motioned to the ladies to take their seats on the divan. Chairs having been prepared, the one nearest to his person was appropriated to Mr Thorpe. While the first compliments were being exchanged, and the coffee was handed round in small cups of enamel studded with diamonds, they had full leisure to examine the features and appearance of the conqueror and regenerator of the land of the Pharaohs.

Although below the average height, his active and firmly knit form was well calculated for the endurance of the fatigues and exertions which his restless mind imposed upon it. On his head he wore a fez or cap, around which was wound a fine Cashmere shawl in the shape of a turban; for he had not yet adopted the tarboosh, which forms at present the unsightly head-dress of Turks and Egyptians. His forehead was high, bold, and square in its outline, subtended by shaggy eyebrows, from beneath which peered out a pair of eyes, not large, but deep-set, bright, and singularly expressive; when in anger, they shot forth fiery glances which few could withstand, and when he was in mirthful mood, they twinkled like stars. His nose was straight, with nostrils rather wide; his mouth well-shaped, though somewhat broad, while beneath it a massive chin, 87covered by a beard slightly grizzled by age, completed a countenance on which the character of a firm, determined will was indelibly stamped. He was dressed in a pelisse lined with fur, in the front of which protruded from his Cashmere belt the diamond-studded hilt of a dagger. Large loose trousers, and a pair of red slippers, according to the fashion of the day, completed his costume, whilst on the little finger of a hand small and delicate as that of a woman shone a diamond of inestimable value.

After the interchange of the usual complimentary speeches and inquiries—such as, “Whether Mr Thorpe liked what he had seen of Egypt”; “Whether they proposed ascending the Nile as far as the First Cataract,” &c.—which the Viceroy’s interpreter translated into French, breakfast was announced. On his Highness leading the way into the adjoining apartment, they were surprised at seeing a table laid out in the European fashion, with the unexpected luxuries, not only of knives and forks, but likewise of chairs and snow-white napkins. The dragoman stood behind his master’s chair, and Emily was rather confused at finding that the chief part of the conversation fell to her share—on account of her speaking French much more fluently than her parents. The Pasha was much pleased at this, for he was devoted to the fair sex.

With the exception of a pilau, and one or two Turkish dishes of pastry and sweetmeats, there was 88nothing to distinguish the breakfast from one served in Paris. As soon as it was concluded, and the fingers of the guests had been duly purified by rose-water, poured from a silver-gilt vase, they returned to the reception-room and resumed their former places. Scarcely were they seated than there entered a row of well-dressed young Mamelukes, each bearing before him a long pipe, with a mouthpiece of amber, ornamented with diamonds, which they presented to all the guests, as well as to the Pasha. Of course neither of the ladies had ever held a pipe between their lips, and Mr Thorpe was as guiltless of tobacco as they were. The Pasha smiled, and told them, through his interpreter, that it was intended as a compliment, but the acceptance of it was optional.

Mrs Thorpe absolutely declined; but Emily took the pipe, and putting the pretty amber between her pretty lips, and making believe to smoke, pouted so prettily that the Viceroy heartily wished she were a Circassian that he might buy her on the spot. Mr Thorpe, wishing to be particularly civil, took two or three bonâ-fide puffs at the pipe, the result of which was that he was nearly choked, and his eyes filled with tears.

The attendants having retired, the conversation on general topics was resumed; and the Viceroy explained to Mr Thorpe some of the projects then floating in his active brain for introducing various branches of manufacturing industry into Egypt. In 89reply Mr Thorpe, who, although by no means a political economist, was a man of plain good sense, pointed out to his Highness the difficulties that he would obviously have to encounter from the want of hands (the agricultural population of Egypt not being sufficient to cultivate the arable soil), and also from the absence of the two most important elements of manufacturing industry—iron and coal.

“Ah!” said the Pasha, laughing; “I know all that; I shall have difficulties; what can be done without difficulty? All my life I have been contending against them; I have always overcome them, and, Inshallah, I will do so still! Did you see,” he added, with increased animation, “a canal that joins the Nile a few miles northward of this spot?” Mr Thorpe had noticed it, but had not thought of inquiring whither it led. “Well, then,” continued the Pasha, “that canal leads to a large village in the middle of the Delta, from which and from the neighbouring provinces it brings the produce down to the Nile. How do you think I made that canal? You shall hear. Two years ago I stopped here on my way to Cairo from Alexandria, and having determined to make a canal from the Nile to that village, I sent for the chief engineer of the province, and having given him the length, breadth, and depth of the canal required, I asked him in what space of time he would undertake to make it. He took out his pen and his paper, and having made his calculations, he said that if I gave 90him an order on the Governor of the province for the labour he required, he would undertake to finish it in a year. My reply was a signal to my servants to throw him down and give him two hundred blows of the stick on his feet. This ceremony being concluded, I said to him, ‘Here is the order for the number of labourers you may require; I am going to Upper Egypt, and shall come back in four months; if the canal is not completed by the day of my return, you shall have three hundred more.’”

In relating this story the Pasha’s eyes sparkled, and he almost jumped from his sitting posture with excitement, as he added, rubbing his hands, “By Allah! the canal was completed when I returned.”^[35]

The Viceroy having enjoyed for a few moments the recollection of his successful engineering, turned to Mr Thorpe and said, with a graver air—

“I am sorry to have to speak on a disagreeable subject, but a letter has been brought to me by a horseman from the Governor of Atfeh, in which it is stated that a portion of the crew of your boat attacked the crew of a Government boat on the canal, and that they were set on and led by a young Arab of gigantic size, who nearly killed one of my kawàsses.”

Here Demetri, whose office had hitherto been a sinecure, the translation having all passed through 91the Viceroy’s interpreter, thinking it a good opportunity for displaying his descriptive powers, came forward, and addressing the Viceroy, said—

“May it please your Highness, my friend Hassan——”

“Silence, babbler!” said the Pasha, in an angry voice; “you may speak when you are spoken to.” So saying, he darted upon the unfortunate Greek a fiery glance that almost made his heart jump into his mouth.

“Excuse me,” said the Pasha to Mr Thorpe, recovering himself immediately, as he observed Demetri steal noiselessly out of the room; “these servants, especially Smyrniotes, always tell lies, and I desired to hear the truth of this story from yourself.”

“I was in the cabin,” replied Mr Thorpe; “but my daughter was on deck the whole time, and saw all that passed; she can give your Highness a correct report.”

“If the young lady will so far favour me, I shall be obliged,” said the Viceroy.

Emily then related what had passed with the utmost accuracy. She noticed that at the pauses of her narrative the interpreter made sundry marks on a letter which he held in his hand, and also that alternate smiles and frowns followed each other on the expressive countenance of Mohammed Ali. When she had ceased speaking he thanked her, and after conversing a moment with his interpreter, 92proceeded to ask her a few questions connected with the letter which he held in his hand.

“Do you know whether it was by accident or design that the two boats ran against each other, and if accident, whose fault was it?”

“I think it was certainly accident, as there had been no quarrel or cause of quarrel before; whose fault it was I am not able to judge.”

“Are you sure that your crew did not attack the crew of the other boat first, with sticks or other weapons?”

“I am sure that nothing but words had passed on either side until the kawàss threw the stone or brick.”

“Did you see him throw it?” said the Pasha, knitting his brows.

“I saw him certainly, and he very nearly hurt me seriously, as your Highness may see.” While thus speaking, Emily turned her cheek aside, and lifting up one of the brown curls, she showed the hurt.

“Kàhpe-oghlou pezevènk!” said the Pasha, in an angry tone, looking towards his interpreter. (The words are untranslatable to ears polite, although they may fall from a Turk fifty times in a day. They may be rendered in this case, “The infernal scoundrel!”) “One more question,” he added, “I would beg to ask the young lady. You say that the youth you call Hassan jumped alone on the deck of the other boat; how many men might there be on the deck at the time?”

93“I did not count them; there might be eight or ten; some were pulling at a rope on shore.”

“And how is it they did not drive him back, and prevent him from striking the kawàss?”

“I cannot tell; I saw them strike at him on all sides, but it seems they had not power to stop him, for he reached the kawàss, broke his sword, and beat him down before jumping into the canal.”

“Ajàib!—wonderful!” said the Viceroy, turning to his dragoman. “What a tale is this; and if it be true, what dirt have these lying dogs been eating?” As he spoke, he pointed again to the letter he held in his hand.

“The Viceroy is astonished at your tale,” said the interpreter, addressing Emily; “it differs so entirely from the report sent to him by the kawàss.”

“I grant that it seems improbable,” said Emily, slightly colouring; “but as I own that I was very much frightened, if his Highness thinks that I have stated anything incorrectly, it is easy to know the truth. The rais of our boat was close beside me all the time, and saw what passed; let the Pasha send for him and make him relate what he saw.”

When this was translated to the Viceroy, his eyes sparkled again, and he said, turning to Mr Thorpe, “The young lady is fit to be a cadi; by Allah! with your leave, it shall be as she says.”

“By all means,” replied Mr Thorpe; “let the rais be brought before his Highness immediately.”

Demetri, having been sent down to the boat, 94returned in a few minutes with the rais, whose relation of the circumstances differed in no essential particular from that made by Emily.

“Mashallah!” said the Viceroy, “it is wonderful; with Mr Thorpe’s permission I should like to see and question this youth.”

Mr Thorpe having signified his acquiescence, Demetri was again sent to the boat, and soon returned, accompanied by Hassan.

During the brief absence of Demetri in search of Hassan, the Viceroy had made further inquiries concerning the latter, in reply to which Mr Thorpe informed him that the young man had been in the employment of Hadji Ismael, and was now on his way to Cairo with letters for some pasha whose name Mr Thorpe did not remember.

“What, Hadji Ismael, our good Arab merchant?” said the Viceroy.

“The same,” replied Mr Thorpe.

Here the Viceroy spoke apart to the interpreter, by whose order an attendant brought a small box, containing letters, which he placed on the divan at his Highness’s side. The interpreter, by the Viceroy’s desire, ran his eye over two or three letters from Alexandria, till he found the one of which he was in search. He read a passage from it, at which Mohammed Ali laughed and chuckled immoderately, repeating over and over again, “Aferin! aferin!” (bravo! bravo!) He then turned to Mr Thorpe, saying—

95“I wonder whether this can be the same youth as the one mentioned in this letter, who threw the famous Moghrebi wrestler, Ebn-el-Ghaizi? It is here written that he was in the employment of Hadji Ismael.”

“There can be little doubt it is the same youth,” replied Mr Thorpe. “I have heard the whole story from our English servant. Indeed, it was in protecting him that Hassan got into a quarrel with the wrestler.”

“Mashallah!” said the Viceroy, “the youth deserves a reward, for that vagabond Moghrebi had beaten all the Egyptian wrestlers, and laughed at our beards.”

At this moment Hassan reached the door of the apartment, and the Viceroy having given orders that he should be admitted, he came forward, and having made the usual obeisance and touched his forehead with the skirt of the Viceroy’s pelisse, retired a few steps, and drawing himself up to his full height, awaited his prince’s commands in silence.

Mohammed Ali had been accustomed from his youth to study the characters of men from their countenance and bearing, and he now fixed upon Hassan an eye whose piercing gaze few cared to encounter; but Hassan met it with a calm and untroubled look. “Mashallah! a noble-looking youth,” muttered he to himself, after scanning the athletic yet graceful proportions of the figure 96before him. He then turned to his dragoman, saying—

“That youth is surely not an Arab. Of what race think you he may be?”

Before the dragoman could reply, Hassan, addressing the Viceroy, said—

“It is right that your Highness should know that I understand Turkish, lest you should say anything not intended for my ear.”^[36]

“Ha! ha! I forgot that he had been in Alexandria some years,” said the Viceroy in a low tone. He then added aloud, “Hassan—for so I hear you are called—whence do you come?”

“I was bred in the tents of your friends the Oulâd-Ali,” replied the youth.

“A proud and a stubborn set of rogues they are,” muttered the Viceroy in an undertone. He then continued aloud, knitting his shaggy brows as he spoke, “You are accused of having struck and nearly killed one of my kawàsses. What have you to say to the charge?”

“It is true, and he deserved it,” replied Hassan.

“Deserved it!” repeated Mohammed Ali, his eye kindling with fire. “Do you dare, youngster, to laugh at my beard, and to correct my servants at your pleasure?”

“Mohammed Ali,” said the youth, with manly simplicity, “I have been taught to venerate and 97not to laugh at a beard silvered by time. How, then, should I not honour yours, for I have longed to see you from my childhood, having heard of your skill and courage in war and your generosity in peace? But your Highness cannot know and cannot be answerable for the insolence of all your servants. Had you been where I was when that cowardly fellow threw a stone at the head of the young lady beside you, you would not have beaten him—you would have cut his head off.”

“By the head of my father!” said the Viceroy, pleased rather than offended at the unusual boldness of Hassan’s speech—“By the head of my father! I believe the boy is right. I have heard the whole story from these strangers and from the rais, and though I was prepared to be angry with you, I now acquit you from blame. Where are you going to in Cairo, and what commission have you from our good merchant the Hadji?”

“I am going with a letter from him,” said Hassan, “to Delì Pasha.”

“Delì [mad], well named,” said the Viceroy. “I can guess; it is about horses. Have you the letter with you? Let me see it.”

Hassan with some hesitation withdrew the letter from a small silk bag which he carried in the folds of his girdle, and handed it to the Viceroy, who, without the slightest ceremony, opened it, and gave it to the interpreter to read to him, 98which he did in a tone audible only to the Viceroy himself.

“It is all right,” he said. “Give it back to Hassan, and let him take it on to Delì Pasha.”

“Pardon me,” said Hassan; “I cannot receive it so. Delì Pasha might suspect me of having opened it. Let your Highness’s secretary write in the margin that it was opened by your order, and reseal it with your seal.”

“By Allah!” said Mohammed Ali, “the youth has brains, as well as goodly limbs. Call the khaznadâr.”^[37] When that officer entered, the Viceroy, giving him the letter, whispered a few instructions in his ear, and he left the room.

It had not escaped the Viceroy’s quick eye that Hassan had evinced some awkwardness or constraint in opening the silk bag containing the letter and replacing it in his girdle, and he said to him—

“These Frank travellers tell me that, while you were attacking the kawàss on that boat, you received some blows and a stab from one of the crew. Is this so?”

“It is true,” replied Hassan; “but the blows were nothing, and the stab was of little consequence; the bleeding from it was soon stopped.”

“Does it hurt you now?” demanded the Pasha.

“A little,” he replied. “But it is not worth your Highness’s notice.”

99“You are a madcap,” said the Viceroy; “and young blood thinks nothing of wounds. Raise up your left arm to your head.”

Hassan tried to obey, but the arm fell powerless at his side.

“Ha!” said the Pasha, “I knew it was so.” Then turning to his interpreter, who was also a Doctor, he continued, “Hakim Bashi, take him into another room and examine his wound, and while you are away let that Greek come in again to interpret. His tongue will not run so fast now.”

The Doctor conveyed Hassan to his own apartment, and the conversation was resumed through the medium of Demetri, who had been so thoroughly abashed by his first rebuff that he would not risk a second, but performed his interpreting duties with an accuracy which surprised himself—for he did not add more than one-third from his own head.

A quarter of an hour, then half an hour, passed away, and still neither the Doctor nor his patient returned. Several cups of coffee had been presented, and nearly an hour had elapsed ere the Hakim Bashi entered the room alone.

“Come here!” cried out the impatient Viceroy. “By Allah! your absence has been long. Where is the youth?”

“I left him lying on a divan in my room, your Highness, and he must not be moved for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Was his hurt, then, so bad?” inquired the Pasha.

100“It was such,” said the Doctor, “that if your Highness had not desired me to examine and dress the wound, in a few days the amputation of his arm at the shoulder might have been necessary. I found on the top of the shoulder a large blue circle, which convinced me that there was something seriously wrong below. I was obliged to cut it open, and to cut deep, too. Then I took my probes and began to examine the bottom of the wound. As the inflammation was great, the pain must have been most acute; but, my lord, I never saw such a youth. He remained as firm and unmoved as if he had been made of wood or stone; and in the middle of the operation he said to me with a smile, ‘Hakim Bashi, Mashallah! what an eye our Prince has got.’ At last my instrument met with some hard substance, which, with some trouble, I succeeded in reaching with a forceps, and I drew it out. It proved to be the point of the dagger with which he had been stabbed, and which, encountering the bone, had broken off. Here it is.” So saying, he produced to the Viceroy about half an inch of the point of a steel dagger.

“Aferin! aferin!” (bravo! bravo!) said the Viceroy. “Well have you done, my good Hakim Bashi. The young man will recover the use of his arm now.”

“Yes, if it be the will of Allah. But he must remain at least twenty-four hours in the position in which I have placed him. I shall dress the wound 101once or twice, and at this hour to-morrow I can tell your Highness whether he is fit to pursue his journey.”

“What do you think?” said Mohammed Ali, addressing Mr Thorpe; “if I had two or three regiments composed of fellows like this Hassan, might I not march to—any part of the world?” Another termination was on his lips, but he checked it, and substituted the vague phrase. A slight smile might have been noticed on the face of the medical interpreter, who well knew the word that had nearly escaped his chief, although the idea was not carried into execution until many years had passed.

“I have travelled in many countries,” replied Mr Thorpe, “and can assure your Highness that men of the stature, strength, and symmetry of Hassan are rare everywhere; but your Highness knows better than I do, and has proved it to the world, that however advantageous to the individual may be the possession of these qualities, in an army there is nothing but discipline among the men, and skill in their commander, that can ensure success.”

“May your life be long!” said the Viceroy, acknowledging the compliment; “but now you must tell me what you wish to do, for you see this Hassan cannot go forward for a day or two. Will you wait for him, or will you pursue your journey, and I will have him sent on in the first boat that passes?”

“Nay,” said Mr Thorpe, “we are not so hurried 102but that we can wait for a day; and it would be unkind to leave him behind, as he received his wound in defending us.”

“Be it so,” replied the Pasha; “and there is another advantage in your staying. The Governor of Damietta has written me word that a Christian kassis^[38] is coming up the river on his way to the South. They say he is a very learned man, and has been some years in these countries: perhaps you might like to join him to your party?”

“Willingly,” replied Mr Thorpe, “if he arrives in time. Meanwhile, I will take my leave, having trespassed too much on your Highness’s time.” So saying, he arose, but the Viceroy would not let him go until he had made him promise to come again on the morrow to breakfast.

The Thorpe party returned to their boat, and spent the remainder of the day in talking over the occurrences of the morning, and in discussing the character and qualities of the remarkable man whom they had seen for the first time.

A few hours later Demetri came into the cabin and stated that the Viceroy’s interpreter was without, accompanied by a stranger. Orders having been given for his immediate admission, he came in and said to Mr Thorpe—

“I have been charged by the Viceroy to present to you Mr Müller, concerning whom his Highness 103spoke to you; and I do it with much pleasure, as he is a friend of mine, and a most worthy person.”

The new-comer was apparently about forty-five years of age. His countenance was intelligent and benevolent, and his complexion, from long exposure to sun and weather, was tanned almost to the hue of an Arab. On his head he wore what had once been a German cap, but which, from the folds of grey serge wrapped around it, might almost pass for a turban; and his beard, which was bushy and slightly grizzled, fell nearly half-way to his waist. His outer dress was composed of a long robe or gaberdine of dark-grey cloth, with loose sleeves, and confined at the waist by a leathern girdle, from which depended a bag, made from the skin of an antelope, and containing all the sundries which the good missionary most frequently required in his long excursions in the forest and desert. His sandals were of undressed hide, and he had made them himself; and he carried in his hand a stout staff which he had brought from the Abyssinian woods, and which had been his constant companion in many a remote peregrination.

The two visitors remained some time, and the conversation turned on Egypt and the wilder regions to the southward, with all of which Müller seemed so familiar, and described them with so much truthful simplicity, that the Thorpe party were delighted with him.

On the following day they returned to breakfast 104with the Pasha, and were glad to learn that Hassan had passed a quiet night, and that the inflammation had so far subsided that he might go on board without risk.

“I have no fear,” said the medical interpreter, “of any bad consequences now that you have agreed on going with Müller; he has had so much experience that he is half a Doctor himself: indeed,” he added, smiling, “I doubt whether he has not more skill than many who hold the diploma.”

The breakfast passed as agreeably as that of the preceding day, and after it Hassan was summoned into the Pasha’s presence. He came in with his left arm in a sling. His Highness spoke kindly to him, and after receiving the thanks of the youth for the attention shown to him by the interpreter, the latter was desired by the chief to reseal and restore to Hassan the letter from the merchant to Delì Pasha, adding in the margin that it had been opened by himself, and, in conclusion, he whispered a few words in his ear, to which the interpreter only replied by the customary “On my head be it.”

A few minutes sufficed to execute this order, and when the interpreter returned the letter to Hassan, he at the same time presented another to Mr Thorpe, informing him that it contained an order to the Kiahya Pasha^[39] to furnish his party 105with an escort to the Pyramids, and a guard while remaining there. His Highness also said that on their return from Upper Egypt he should probably be at Shoobra,^[40] and he hoped they would come to see him there.

Mr Thorpe having duly expressed his thanks for his Highness’s hospitality and kindness, now rose to take his departure, and Hassan came forward and touched his forehead with the skirt of the Viceroy’s pelisse; Mohammed Ali looked at him with a smile, and said—

“Good fortune attend you, Hassan—a mad follower going to join a mad lord—but you are a good lad, and I am pleased with you.”

They all retired to their boat, Hassan taking an opportunity before they left to thank the medical interpreter for the service he had rendered him in restoring him the use of his arm.

Our party pursued their way merrily towards Cairo, Mr Thorpe’s impatience to see his beloved pyramids becoming every hour more uncontrollable.

Müller’s canjah^[41] kept company with them, and it had been agreed before they started that he should pass the day on board the large boat and at night sleep on his own; by this means he was enabled every day to dress Hassan’s shoulder 106according to the advice given him by the medical interpreter.

The voyage was slow, and unaccompanied by incidents of interest to any excepting our friend Demetri, who daily landed at some village to purchase milk, fowls, and a lamb for the party; and as he only put them down in his account at one hundred per cent over the cost price, Mrs Thorpe, instead of complaining of the charges, only expressed her wonder at the cheapness of provisions. We shall not be surprised at the good lady’s satisfaction when we remember that at the period of which we write one hundred eggs were bought for a piastre,^[42] a couple of fowls for the same amount, and a sheep for five piastres.

We may here insert a few leaves from Emily’s journal:—

“We have found the Missionary Müller a great addition to our party; he is the best, and the queerest, and the cleverest creature I ever beheld; he really seems to me to know everything. He has travelled a great deal in Nubia and the adjoining regions, and speaks several of those barbarous languages. His most constant companion on our boat is Hassan. I could not resist asking him the other day, after a conversation which seemed to me to have lasted above an hour, what he could find to interest him so much in Hassan’s conversation, and whether it was about fighting and hunting.

107“‘No,’ he replied, with a good-humoured smile, ‘it was about religion.’

“‘Religion!’ I exclaimed in astonishment; ‘I can understand that he should listen to you on such a subject, but I observed that he spoke more and more vehemently than you did yourself.’

“‘True, lady; but I could not blame him, for I attacked, and he defended, his faith. I had before observed in him so much unselfishness, modesty, and such a love of truth that I thought it my duty to try if I might not lead him to the way of truth where we know it to be. With him, as with all true Mussulmans, it is next to impossible. They have got the one great undeniable truth—the Unity of God—so indelibly stamped upon their conviction that any attempt to make them understand, or even consider, the doctrine of the Trinity is attended with such difficulties as amount almost to an impossibility! The words with which Hassan closed our conversation were these: “There is no God but Allah; the days of fighting the Mushrekin and planting the true faith with the sword are gone—now we can only pity them.”’

“‘Who are the Mushrekin?’ I inquired.

“‘The term signifies,’ he replied, ‘those who assign a partner; and it is applied especially to Christians, who, in the estimation of the Moslem, assign in their doctrine of the Trinity two other persons or spirits as partners with the Creator.’

108“‘Whence could Hassan,’ I asked, ‘learn to discuss such subjects; has he any learning?’

“‘He has no learning,’ replied Müller; ‘but he knows his Koran well, and reads it constantly. He knows not that all which is most valuable in its moral precepts was taken from our Bible; but his heart is simple, his faith fixed, and his will strong and determined. There is hardly a tribe in the deserts of Southern Africa, or in the islands of the Southern Ocean, where a missionary may not hope for some reward for his labours, but to convert an honest and believing Mussulman is a task almost hopeless.’

“The following day we continued our course up the Nile, passing by a number of villages and palm-groves, and towards evening I resumed my favourite seat on the upper deck, to see the beautiful Egyptian sunset; the Missionary Müller was by me, and interested me much by descriptions of the Soudan. Hassan was quite in the stern of the boat, reciting or chanting in a low voice. I asked Müller if he knew what the young man was repeating, but he could not catch the words, and said, “It is doubtless some old Arab legend.” I felt a great desire to hear a recitation of this kind, and I inquired of the missionary whether he could prevail upon Hassan to repeat it to us.

“He got up and made the request. I could see that some hesitation and difficulties arose; but 109they were soon overcome, and Müller returned, bringing with him Hassan, who sat down in his old place between me and the rais. Müller said to me—

“‘Hassan desires the young lady to be informed that he is not a ràwi [a teller of stories], but that he knows some old Arab legends. If it pleases her, he will tell the tale of Rabîah. It is,’ added Müller, ‘a legend of great antiquity, and its scene is laid in Arabia.’

“I told him it would give me great pleasure to hear it, so Hassan commenced.

“Although I could not understand a word, it moved me deeply. After the first few lines his faculties seemed all wrapped up in the tale: now the voice was deep and guttural, then it grew soft and sad; then came some scene of anger or strife, and his eyes flashed fire; then came a plaintive tone, which dropping almost to a whisper, suddenly stopped. I felt sure that the hero or the heroine was dead, and the tears actually stood in Müller’s eyes, and the old rais at the helm uttered several sighs, or rather groans, in succession.

“On expressing my vexation that I could not understand the recital, Müller kindly said that he would make me a translation of the tale on the morrow, correcting it from Hassan’s lips.

“Here is the translation of the Arab legend made by Müller:—

110“Rabîah.

“Rabîah was feeble, slowly recovering from severe wounds. Who has not heard of Rabîah?—the Lion of the Nejd, whose eyes were like burning coals, whose form was like the at’l (oak), whose voice was as a tempest; before his lance the brave fell bathed in blood, and the timid fled like herds of antelopes.

“When Rabîah came forth to battle and shouted his war-cry, the maidens of the Otèbah wrung their hands, saying, ‘Alas for my brother!’ ‘Alas for my beloved!’ and the mother, pressing her babe to her breast, cried, ‘Oh, my child, wilt thou see thy father to-morrow?’

“Now Rabîah was feeble.

“Some months before he had borne away from the tents of the Otèbah, Selma, the pearl of the tribe; her form was like the Egyptian willow, her face like the full moon in its brightness, her eyes were those of the antelope, and her teeth pearls set between two cushions of rose-leaves, her neck was a pillar of camphor,^[43] and her breasts two pomegranates rivalling each other in rounded beauty.

“But Selma’s eyes were averted, as if in scorn; and while Rabîah was consumed by the fire of 111love, her heart was a locked casket whose contents none might know.

“The season was spring, and the tribe, with their warriors and tents, their flocks and herds, had moved on to a higher region. Rabîah, retarded by his wounds, had remained behind, keeping with him only a few followers, his sister, and Selma; but anxiety came upon his mind, and he said, ‘Let us go to join the tribe.’

“So they went, the two maidens riding in a musàttah,^[44] and he on a shibriah,^[45] and thus they journeyed, and Rabîah sung in a feeble voice the following words:—

‘Alas, my heart is bleeding! the arrows of the Otèbah have tasted my blood;

But their hurt is nothing: it is the glance of Selma’s eye that hath pierced my heart.’

“The maidens heard the song, but Selma spoke not, and his sister wept for his wounds, but more for his unrequited love.

“On the second day they passed a mountain, and, reaching a sandy plain, journeyed slowly across it.

“Suddenly a cloud of dust appeared in the distance, and one of the followers sped on a swift horse to see whence it arose. The maidens trembled like willow-leaves in the morning breeze, 112but Rabîah slept. The man soon returned with a loosened rein and bloody heel, shouting—

“‘It is a large body of the Otèbah, and they are coming this way; there is no hope of escape; there is neither strength nor power save in Allah!’

“‘Rabîah,’ cried his sister, distracted with fear, ‘canst thou do nothing to save us? Wilt thou see Selma carried off before thine eyes? The Otèbah are coming!’

“At these words Rabîah started up as if from a dream; his eyes shone like two suns.

“‘Bring me my led war-horse,’ he shouted to his men, ‘and fasten on my armour; let us see what enemy dare come near Selma while Rabîah lives.’

“Still while they fastened on his armour his old wounds opened afresh, and the blood trickled from them, and he sang the following lines:—

‘Truly, to be near her and not have her love is worse than twenty deaths;

But to die for her is sweeter than to drink the waters of Keswer.’^[46]

“When Selma heard these words she turned towards him, and tears dropped from her eyes upon her soft cheek, like dewdrops on a rose.

“‘Rabîah,’ she cried, ‘thy great love hath torn away the veil of pride and deceit from my heart; truly my love is equal to thine; come to my arms, my beloved, let us live or die together.’

113“Then the camels were made to kneel, and Rabîah came to the side of her litter, and she cast her arms about his neck, and he kissed her on the mouth, and their lips did not separate till their souls passed into each other, and they forgot the world.

“But the followers cried aloud, ‘Rabîah, the Otèbah are coming!’ and he tore himself from her embrace; and his great war-horse stood beside him stamping on the ground, for his ear caught the tramp of the steeds, and his wide nostrils snuffed the coming fight. None but Tarrad could bear that mighty warrior through the ranks of the foe; he was swift as an antelope, and like an elephant in his strength.

“Now Rabîah’s armour was fastened, and his helmet on his head. He looked once more upon Selma, and repeated the following lines:—

‘Our souls have drunk together the water of life,

There is no separation now, not even in death.’

“Then he mounted Tarrad, and took his great spear in his hand, though his limbs were stiff, and his wounds still bled beneath his armour.

“‘Make all speed,’ said he, ‘with the camels to the Horseman’s Gap;^[47] beyond it is the plain where our tribe is encamped; there you will be safe.’

“So they went; and when he saw the Otèbah 114drawing near, his great heart rose within him; he forgot his wounds, and the fire shot from his eyes. Then he rode towards them, and shouted his battle-cry aloud. Their hearts trembled within them, and none came forth to meet him.

“But Fèsal, the young chief of the band, who was brother to Selma, reproached them, saying—

“‘Are ye men, or are ye sheep, that one hundred are afraid of one? Has he not slain our brethren, and carried away the pearl of our tribe? Now is the hour of revenge.’

“And he went forth at speed to strike Rabîah to the earth with his lance, but Rabîah met him in full career, and warded the blow. With the shock of meeting, Fèsal and his horse rolled together on the ground.

“Then Rabîah wheeled round to slay him, but the young man’s helmet had fallen off, and Rabîah knew his face, and spared him, saying—

“‘Thou art Selma’s brother.’

“Then he charged the band, and he raged among them like a wolf in a sheepfold, and he pierced a strong warrior through the body—the man fell from his horse, and the lance broke. Then they set up a shout of rage and triumph; yet they would not come near him, for he had drawn his limb-dividing sword, so they shot arrows at him from a distance.

“Casting his eyes behind him, he saw that his camels were entering the gap, and he retreated 115slowly, covering himself from the arrows with his shield; thus he gained the mouth of the defile. There he stood and faced them; and though the arrows showered upon him, and blood was flowing fast down the flanks of Tarrad, he spoke and moved not, but sat still, like a horseman carved in stone in the gap.

“But soon an arrow entering the eye of Tarrad reached his brain, and he fell dead. Then Rabîah lay down behind his horse’s body, covering himself also with his shield, so that they saw him not; but they continued shooting their arrows, until Fèsal, who had mounted another horse, came up and stayed them, saying—

“‘The horse is dead, and Rabîah must now be our prisoner.’

“Then he rode forward with a few followers, and called aloud, ‘Rabîah, yield thyself; escape is now impossible,’ but Rabîah gave no answer.

“Fèsal advanced still nearer, and repeated the same words, adding—

“‘It is useless to shed more blood.’

“But Rabîah gave no reply.

“He approached with the caution of a hunter coming near a wounded lion, till he reached the spot, and looked upon his face.

“Rabîah was dead!

“Then pity took possession of the heart of Fèsal, and having told his followers to place the body of Rabîah and of his horse gently on one side, he 116galloped alone after the party which had retreated through the gap. He knew that his sister was one; and seeing that they prepared to shoot their arrows, he called to them—

“‘Put away your weapons; this is the hour of grief and not of war.’ And he drew near to the litter, and said—

“‘Sad is the news of my tongue—Rabîah is dead—the Lion of the Nejd is no more.’

“Then a piercing shriek came from the sister of Rabîah, and she cried—

“‘Let us go back to him.’

“Selma spoke not a word; a great stone was upon her heart, and speech and tears were denied her.

“So they turned back; and when they reached the spot there was a dead silence, while the camel was made to kneel down, and the two maidens came forth.

“Rabîah’s sister wept and sobbed, holding her dead brother’s hand; but Selma threw herself on the body of her beloved, and cast her arms about his neck, and again she pressed her lips to his cold lips. None dared to move her, and Allah had mercy upon her, and her soul passed away in that last kiss.

“For many months there was wailing and lamentation among the tribes, and there was peace among them, for war lay buried in the grave where Rabîah and Selma slept side by side.”^[48]

117

The dahabiahs arrived safely at Boulak after an uneventful voyage. Hassan, having taken leave of his hospitable friends, and promised to pay them an early visit, proceeded to discover the house of Delì Pasha, in order to enter upon his new duties.

He learnt that the Pasha did not live in the city, but in one of the large houses recently built on the banks of the Nile, above the Port of Boulak, and below the palaces constructed by Mohammed Ali and Ibrahim Pasha for the harems of the viceregal family.

On reaching the door of the house Hassan was informed by the Berber porter that the Pasha was within, so he passed into the entrance-hall, at the end of which he observed one or two slaves lounging about, from whom he learnt that their master had lately come down from the upper apartments, and was now in the courtyard at the back of the palace. Availing himself of the guidance of one of the slaves, he soon reached the courtyard, a large space covering two or three acres of ground, and surrounded by a high wall. Here he found a motley crowd assembled, consisting apparently 118of Mamelukes, grooms, and servants of all descriptions, and the shouts, and cries, and turmoil proceeding from them baffled all description.

In the centre of the group he saw a horse, held by two or three grooms by long ropes, rearing, kicking, and plunging like a wild beast, and near him a middle-aged, strong-built man, with a turban on his head and his sleeves tucked up above his elbows, striking at the horse with a long courbatch,^[49] and cursing the animal, together with its sire, dam, and all its ancestry, in the most approved terms of Turkish abuse. As Hassan came forward, looking around in vain for any figure which he could conceive likely to be the Pasha, the person above-mentioned stopped a moment from his flogging and malediction to take breath, so Hassan took the opportunity of inquiring whether he could inform him where Delì Pasha was to be found.

“And what may be your business with him, young man?” said he, turning towards Hassan a face in which heat, anger, and good-humour were strangely blended.

“I have a letter for him from Hadji Ismael, the merchant,” replied Hassan.

“Where is the letter?” said the speaker.

“It is here,” said our hero, producing it from his girdle; “and I wish to deliver it to the Pasha in person, if you will tell me where I can find him.”

“Let me see the address,” said the strange man 119with the bare arms. Hassan handed it to him, and as he cast his eye on the outer seal, he said—

“Why, this is not the seal of Hadji Ismael, it is that of the Viceroy;” and he was proceeding leisurely to open it when Hassan snatched it from him, saying—

“How dare you open it! I must deliver it unopened into the Pasha’s own hands.”

“Why, you young hot-blood,” said the other, holding out his two large muscular hands, “whose hands are these if they are not Delì Pasha’s?”

“Is it so, indeed?” said Hassan, in some confusion. “I was not aware that I was speaking to his Excellency.”

“There is no harm done, boy,” said the Pasha, smiling good-humouredly. “You did not expect to see his Excellency with his arms bare and a courbatch in his hand. Now that you know me, give me the letter.”

Taking it from the youth’s hand, he read it carefully, stopping every now and then to give a scrutinising glance at the bearer; and when he came to the postscript added by the Viceroy’s order, he laughed till the tears stood in his eyes.

“By my father’s beard!” he said, “all will soon be mad in this house. Mohammed Ali sends you to me, saying that you are as mad as myself; and it is only yesterday that Ibrahim Pasha sent me that cursed horse, telling me that it was as mad as myself. If the father’s statement prove as true as 120the son’s, you must be mad indeed, for such a devil I never beheld.”

“Devil,” said Hassan, looking at the furious and struggling animal with unrepressed admiration; “he seems to me beautiful as an angel.”

“You say true,” replied Delì Pasha, “his form is perfect; and Ibrahim brought him away as a colt from the Wahabees. He is of pure Kohèil blood; but Shèitan^[50] is his name, and Shèitan is his nature; nothing can tame him. He has nearly killed two of Ibrahim Pasha’s grooms, and he sends the animal to me as a present, telling me that it is just like myself.”

“If he be a Kohèil,” said Hassan, “he will never be tamed by such means as I saw your Excellency using when I came into the courtyard.”

“You speak boldly, youngster,” said the choleric Pasha with a frown. “Do you think that, with my beard beginning to turn grey, I do not know how to tame an unruly horse?”

“I speak boldly, Excellency, because I speak truly; not from any wish to offend. Does Ibrahim Pasha know your Excellency well?”

“Wallàhi! [by Allah!] I believe you he does; we have marched together, bivouacked together, fought together for many years.”

“Then,” said Hassan, “as his Highness has likened your Excellency to that horse, permit your servant to ask you, if you were in an angry and 121fretful mood, and any one were to attempt to haul at you with ropes, and strike you with a courbatch, in order to tame you, how would he succeed?”

“Wallàhi! I would cut his head off,” exclaimed the Pasha, feeling mechanically for the sword which he had left behind him in the palace. “Do you think that you could mount him?”

“It is better not now,” said Hassan quietly.

“Mount him!” said a voice from behind; “he is afraid to go near the horse.”

Hassan turned to look at the speaker, and saw a large, powerful man of about thirty-five years of age, to whose harsh features a deep scar on the cheek gave a still more forbidding appearance.

“Silence, Osman Bey,” said the Pasha; “because the young man speaks his mind freely, you have no right to insinuate that he is afraid. What say you, Hassan? What do you propose about the horse?”

“If your Excellency desires it,” said Hassan, drawing himself up and casting a look of contempt on Osman Bey, “I will mount the horse immediately, and he shall kill me or I will kill him; but if you ask me what I would advise, I would say leave him alone now: his flank is panting, his eye bloodshot, no good can come from gentle usage now. Let him be taken back to the stable; give orders that no one may tend or feed him but myself, and let me show him to your Excellency after two days are past.”

The Pasha was just about giving his consent, when Shèitan thought fit to settle the matter 122otherwise for himself. With an unexpected bound he broke the halter held by one groom, and rushing upon the other, threw him to the ground, and grasping the unfortunate man by the middle, with his teeth shook him as a terrier does a rat.

None seemed desirous of approaching the infuriated animal; but Hassan, snatching a nabout (a long thick staff) from the hand of one of the bystanding servants, rushed to the spot, and striking the horse a severe blow on the nose, obliged him to drop the sàis (groom), who crawled away on all-fours and placed himself behind his protector.

Shèitan seemed resolved to be worthy of his name, for no sooner did he see Hassan standing before him than he ran furiously at him with open mouth, with the intention of worrying him as he had done the sàis; but Hassan had watched him with too steady an eye to be taken unawares, and no sooner did the animal in furious career come within reach than he dealt him a blow on the top of the head between the ears with such force that the staff was broken in half, and the horse stood still a moment completely stunned and bewildered. That moment was not unimproved by Hassan, who vaulted lightly on his back, and sat waiting until the animal’s senses fully returned, during which time he gathered up the halters hanging from the horse’s head and made therewith a sort of extempore bridle.

No sooner did Shèitan recover his senses and 123become aware of the audacious rider on his back, than he began to rear, plunge, and perform the wildest gambols in order to dislodge him. Hassan sat like a centaur, and the savage animal, determined to get rid of him, reared bolt upright and fell backwards; but Hassan was prepared for this manœuvre, and sliding off on one side, alighted on his feet, while the horse fell alone.

Hassan’s blood was now up, and he determined to subdue his enemy by force. Giving the horse several severe blows with the broken staff which he held in his hand, he forced the animal to rise, and just as it was gaining its feet jumped once more on its back.

“Aferin! aferin!” (bravo! bravo!) shouted the old Pasha at the top of his voice, as the infuriated horse once more commenced its wild career, bearing its immovable and relentless rider. The large arena in which this scene took place was shut in by the house in front, by high walls on the two sides, one of which divided the outer house from the interior or harem, and at the farther end was a lower wall, between five and six feet high, which separated it from another large court beyond, in which were the Pasha’s stables. Shèitan, goaded to madness by his vain efforts to get rid of his merciless rider, now rushed with full speed towards the stable-court. To stop him with that halter bridle was impossible, so, instead of attempting it, Hassan gave him his head, shouted aloud his wild Arab cry, and, to the 124surprise of the bystanders, horse and man cleared the wall and alighted in safety on the other side. Whether it were owing to the tremendous exertion that he had made, or to the concussion on alighting on hard ground after so unwonted a leap, Shèitan was no sooner over the wall than he stopped, trembling and panting.

Hassan allowed the affrighted animal a few moments to recover its breath, and then began to canter it round the stable-yard. “Now, friend Shèitan,” he said, “thou hast come over this wall once to please thyself; thou must go over it again to please me.” So saying, he again urged the horse to full speed with heel and stick, and charging the wall with the same success as before, galloped him to the spot where Delì Pasha and his followers stood. There, without difficulty, he pulled up, and the foaming, panting sides of the exhausted steed sufficiently proved that he was subdued.

“That will do for the first lesson,” said Hassan good-humouredly, patting the neck of Shèitan. “To-morrow we shall know each other better.”

Delì Pasha was so delighted with Hassan’s performance that he could scarcely find words to express himself.

“See your horse safe in the stable,” he said; “give your own orders about him, and then come up to me in the salamlik;^[51] I have much to say to 125you.” Turning to the mirakhor, or head of the stable, he added, “Give him a good sàis, and see that his orders about Shèitan are punctually obeyed.”

On inquiry Hassan found that the sàis who had been seized by the horse had not been injured, as the teeth had only caught his outer clothes and his broad girdle. This sàis was the one who habitually fed Shèitan in the stable, and Hassan accompanied him thither, telling him to walk the horse about for an hour, but to give it neither water nor barley till his return; to ensure his fidelity Hassan slipped a few piastres into the man’s hand, and returned towards the house to present himself to his new patron.

We must now change the scene to the interior or harem of Delì Pasha’s palace, which was separated by a high wall from the exterior building. There was, however, a private door pierced in the wall, by means of which the Pasha could pass from his salamlik to his harem, which door was, as usual in Turkish houses, guarded by several eunuchs, who relieved each other on guard day and night. One wing of the harem was assigned to the Pasha’s two wives and their attendants, while the other was assigned to his only daughter, Amina, whose mother had died in her infancy, her place being supplied by a middle-aged Turkish lady, named Fatimeh Khanum, who enjoyed the title and authority of Kiahia, or chief of the harem.

All the Pasha’s affections were centred in his 126daughter Amina, and she was one of whom any father might be proud; she was about sixteen years of age, and though her figure was rather above the average height, it was so beautifully formed, and rounded in such exquisite proportions, that every movement was a varied though unstudied grace.

Her face was one of those which defy the poet’s description or the portraiture of the artist; for although each lovely feature might be separately described, neither pen nor pencil could depict their harmony of expression nor the deep lustre of those large liquid eyes, whose fringes, when she cast them down, trembled on the border of her downy cheek.

Her beauty was already so celebrated in Cairo that she was more generally known by the name of Nejmet-es-Sabah^[52] than by her own. Many among the highest of the beys and pashas had demanded her in marriage, but she was so happy with her father, and he loved her with such intense affection, that he had never yet been able to make up his mind to part with her. He spoilt her by indulging her in every whim and caprice, and yet she was not spoilt, partly owing to the gentleness of her disposition and partly owing to the care which Fatimeh Khanum, who was an unusually sensible and well-informed woman, had taken in her education.

127From the latticed window in her boudoir, Amina had witnessed the whole of the scene described already; clapping her hands together with excitement, she had called Fatimeh to her side.

“Fatimeh,” she cried, “who is that stranger, taller by the head than all the others?”

“I know not, my child,” said Fatimeh. “I have never seen him before.”

“Oh, the wild horse will kill him,” said Amina, with a half-suppressed shriek, as she saw the horse rear and fall backwards. “No, he is on it again, and unhurt,” she cried, again clapping her hands together for joy. Another half scream burst from her as she saw the wild horse and horseman clear the wall, and again when he repeated the same perilous leap.

Amina often sat behind the lattice of her window and amused herself by looking at her father’s retainers when playing the jereed,^[53] and though herself invisible to them, she knew many of them by name, and almost all by sight.

128“Oh, Fatimeh,” she cried, “when you go downstairs do not forget to make one of the slaves inquire who is that strange youth. We never saw such a horseman, did we, Fatimeh? and then he has such a——” Amina paused and blushed a little.

“You were going to say such a handsome face and figure,” said Fatimeh, smiling. “I daresay he is a new Mameluke of your father’s, but I will find out and tell you who he is this evening.”

They then withdrew into the outer apartment, and resumed the work which the noise made by the wild horse had interrupted.

Amina was making a beautiful embroidered purse for her father, and Fatimeh arranging some ornament of her favourite pupil’s dress, when a slave entered and said that the Pasha required Fatimeh Khanum’s presence in the salamlik. Throwing her veil over her head, she immediately obeyed the summons.

The Pasha was alone, having ordered his attendants to withdraw.

“How is my Amina, my Morning Star, to-day?” he exclaimed as soon as Fatimeh entered.

“Praise be to Allah, she is well, and her fingers are employed on a purse for your Excellency.”

“The blessing of Allah be upon her,” said the Pasha; “she is my heart’s delight. Inshallah! when I have finished the business now in hand I will come to her. Tell her that I will sup with her this evening.” He then proceeded to inform 129her that he had been appointed by the Viceroy to be Governor of Siout in Upper Egypt, and that in a few weeks he should take his departure, with all his family, to his new post. He proceeded to discuss with her the arrangements which it might be advisable to make for the conveyance of his daughter and for the other ladies of his harem.

Meanwhile Hassan, after seeing Shèitan secure in the stable, had returned to the house and inquired where he might find the Pasha.

“He is upstairs, in the salamlik,” said the young Mameluke whom he addressed. “You will find him in the large room at the end of the passage on your right; he has dismissed us from attendance, but he has asked twice for you; better that you make haste; Delì Pasha does not like to wait.”

Hassan rapidly mounted the stairs, and following the direction he had received, ran rather than walked along the dimly lighted passage which led to the Pasha’s room. Just as he reached the end, and was about to enter, he encountered a woman coming out, and the concussion was such that she must inevitably have fallen had he not caught her in his arms. As it was, the shock was such that it displaced her veil, and for a few seconds she was unable to speak. Hassan saw that she was a middle-aged woman, who still retained traces of early beauty; it was Fatimeh Khanum retiring from her interview with the Pasha.

130“I hope you are not much hurt, lady,” said he in a tone of respectful solicitude, and depositing her gently on a stone seat at the side of the passage.

“Not hurt,” she replied, with difficulty regaining her breath, “but very much frightened.”

“I cannot forgive myself for being so careless,” he continued; “but I was in haste to obey the Pasha’s summons. I hope you forgive me; you can be sure I meant no rudeness to you.”

“I believe it, young Aga,” she replied with a smile, fixing her eyes involuntarily on the open and animated countenance before her. “I am recovered now; you had better go in to the Pasha, who is waiting.”

Hassan, after saluting her respectfully, left her and entered the Pasha’s room.

“You have not been very quick in obeying our summons,” said the latter, with a slight frown on his brow.

Hassan explained the accident by which he had been detained in the passage.

“What!” he cried, bursting out into a fit of laughter, “so you nearly knocked down our poor Kiahia Khanum, did you? I am glad she was not hurt. She is a good, kind-hearted soul. Now come here, Hassan, and tell me if you know anything of the postscript added by Mohammed Ali’s order to the merchant’s letter?”

“Nothing,” replied Hassan. “His Highness gave his orders in a whisper to the interpreter.”

131“Well, it is written in this letter that I am to pay you ten purses [£50], and I shall order the money to be given to you this evening.”

The Pasha made Hassan give him an account of his interview with the Viceroy, and of his affray with the Government kawàss on the canal, at which latter Delì Pasha laughed heartily; he then continued—“Hadji Ismael speaks so highly of you in his letter, that I propose at once to offer you the vacant post of khaznadâr in this house. My khazneh [treasury] is not very full, and will not occupy you much, so I shall expect you to assist in the purchase of horses which I am making for Ibrahim Pasha.”

Hassan stepped forward, and having placed the edge of the Pasha’s pelisse to his forehead in token of acknowledgment, retired from the room.

“I like that young giant,” said Delì Pasha to himself as Hassan withdrew. “His manners are so quiet and his face so prepossessing; but there is the devil in his eye when his blood is roused, as I saw this morning.”

Hassan was no sooner alone than he remembered the letter given him by his old friend Mohammed Aga, in Alexandria, to Ahmed Aga, Delì Pasha’s master of the horse, and hearing that he had gone to the stables, followed and rejoined him. Ahmed Aga, who had been an admiring spectator of Hassan’s performance with Shèitan, was already prepossessed in his favour, and when he read the 132letter which Mohammed Aga’s partiality had dictated, he welcomed Hassan with great cordiality; and as Ahmed himself was a man of open, honest countenance and sterling good qualities, they were disposed to like each other from the very first.

Hassan having communicated to his new friend that he had received the appointment of khaznadâr, the latter exclaimed—

“Mashallah! that is a good beginning; but the post is not so agreeable, for it brings you into constant collision with Osman Bey, the wakeel, who has charge of all Delì Pasha’s lands and property. He is a spiteful, jealous, and dangerous man. I fear he has taken a dislike to you already.”

“To me!” said Hassan, in surprise. “What can I have done to offend him?”

“You have offended him mortally by riding that horse Shèitan, which he was unable to mount; and as he is a good horseman, and very proud of his horsemanship, he is very angry at your having subdued that which he described this morning to the Pasha as a wild beast, perfectly untameable.”

“If he is spiteful against me on such grounds as those,” said Hassan, smiling, “I cannot help myself. I shall do my duty, and not trouble myself about his spite.”

Ahmed Aga shook his head, as if Osman Bey were not a pleasant subject to speak upon.

“Come,” he said, “let us go into the house. As 133khaznadâr you are entitled to a separate room, a privilege enjoyed by none of the Mamelukes.”

When Fatimeh Khanum had recovered from the shock occasioned by running against Hassan in the passage, she pursued her way to the private door leading to the harem, where she was admitted by the eunuchs on guard.

No sooner had the good lady reached Amina’s apartment than she threw herself down on a divan in the corner, and the quick eyes of her pupil discovered that she was labouring under some violent agitation.

“What has happened, my dear Fatimeh?” said Amina, seating herself beside her governess. “What has agitated you thus?”

Fatimeh related to her pupil her accidental meeting with Hassan in the passage, and that he was the same youth whom they had seen from the window riding the wild horse.

“He carried me so gently,” she continued, “to a seat, and he was so kind in inquiring whether I was hurt, and his manner was so respectful, so unlike those young Mamelukes, that I could not take my eyes off him, I felt as if I were bewitched.”

“Oh!” cried Amina, clapping her little hands together; “Fatimeh Khanum, my wise monitress, has fallen in love with the young stranger.”

“My dear child,” replied Fatimeh, “the love you speak of has been dead within me for many years and can never be revived; and that which frightens 134me so much is, that I cannot account for the agitation into which I was thrown by his looks and his voice otherwise than by saying that I must have been bewitched.” And here the good lady began to recite some verses from the Koran as a charm against the evil eye, and to count the beads of her rosary.^[54] Having performed this counter-charm against witchery, Fatimeh proceeded to inform her pupil of their change of residence and departure for Siout, and also of her father’s intention to sup with her.

“Oh!” cried the light-hearted Amina, “I will prepare him a dish of kadaif^[55] with my own hands. He says that no one can make it so well as I do.” So saying, she bounded away to give the requisite orders to her slaves.

Meanwhile Hassan, aided by his new friend Ahmed Aga, had found a vacant room on the second floor, which was appropriated to his use, and his box and saddle-bags were transported thither. As he might, in his new capacity of khaznadâr, be called upon to take charge of sums of money belonging to Delì Pasha, he desired that a strong lock might be put on the door, of which he proposed to keep the key about his person. 135There was not much fear of thieves coming in at the window, as the only aperture for the admission of light or air was in the side-wall of the house, forty or fifty feet from the ground, and eight or ten feet above the floor of Hassan’s room. The remainder of the day, with the exception of a visit made to Shèitan, Hassan spent with Ahmed Aga, who gave him many useful hints as to the character of his new chief—hasty, impetuous, and choleric, but warm-hearted, and soon appeased.

The moon was high in the heavens when Hassan retired to his own room, where he busied himself in arranging his few movables before throwing himself on his mattress to sleep. While thus occupied, a Turkish song, with the words of which he was perfectly familiar, caught his ear; the voice was evidently that of a woman, and it was rich, low, and musical.

Hassan listened like one in a trance to that sweet sound, wafted into his room, he knew not from whence, by the night breeze. The song consisted of three stanzas, two of which the songstress completed, and then her fingers wandered over the strings of a lute, as if to recall the third to memory. Moved by an impulse which he could not restrain, Hassan took up the song, and in a low voice sung the concluding stanza. After this there was a profound silence, broken only by the distant barking of dogs and braying of donkeys, sounds which never cease day or night in 136Cairo, and Hassan fell asleep with the song on his lips.

He was up before sunrise, and went straight to the stables, where he hoped to find that Shèitan, having been kept all night without barley or water, might be more disposed to cultivate acquaintance. Such, however, was not the case; for when he endeavoured to approach with sieve or bucket, the horse laid back its ears and struggled with the heel-ropes, endeavouring to kick at him.

“Softly,” said Hassan; “no more violence now, we shall soon be better friends;” and putting away the corn and the water, he contrived with the assistance of his groom to saddle and bridle him. Armed with a good courbatch, he mounted and went out by a back gate, the horse fretting and plunging, but still evidently recognising his rider of yesterday.

Hassan gave him a good gallop of some ten miles over the desert, and brought him back much subdued to the stable. “Not a drop of water nor a grain of barley,” said he to the sàis, “until he takes it out of my hand.” So saying, he walked into the house and went up to his room, his thoughts ever reverting to the unseen songstress of yesterday evening. As he went along the passage his eye accidentally fell upon a small ladder, which appeared to have been lately used for whitewashing the upper wall and ceiling of the passage. A sudden idea struck him, and catching up the 137ladder, he carried it into his room, and after locking the door, by the help of the ladder he climbed up to the aperture which served as a window and looked cautiously out.

Opposite him, at a distance of not more than eight or ten yards, he saw a latticed window, which he at once knew to belong to the harem portion of the palace, and he guessed that from that window must have come the strain which he had heard the preceding night. Hiding the ladder, or rather the steps, under his bed, he went down to attend upon Delì Pasha, who received him with much kindness, and gave him several commissions connected with his new appointment. Having executed these, and dined as on the preceding day with Ahmed, he retired to his room, but not to sleep, for his imagination still fed upon the soft, musical voice of the night before, and he hoped that he might hear it again. Nor was he doomed to disappointment, for about two hours after sunset his ear again caught the same voice, singing, perhaps, in a lower tone and a different air.

Gently placing his steps against the wall below the aperture, he mounted, and found that the sound proceeded from the latticed window opposite. The moon shone full upon it, though he was in the shade. He fancied that through the little diamond-shaped apertures in the lattice he could distinguish a woman’s figure behind it. Holding his breath, he remained for some time on the watch, when the 138fair songstress, having finished her lay, threw open the lattice to look out for a few minutes at the moonlit scene.

Hassan gazed at the lovely apparition as if under a fascination. Her gorgeous black hair was falling in clusters over her neck and shoulders, veiling at the same time half of the arm on which she rested her rounded velvet cheek. Sometimes her large lustrous eyes were raised to the moon, and then they dropped under the shadows of their long dark fringes.