HASSAN OR THE CHILD OF THE PYRAMID (continued 4)

Hassan remained for a few minutes silently contemplating the body. A smile of satisfaction passed over his countenance as he reflected how well he had avenged the wrongs of his foster-father, but it quickly passed away as he said gravely, “He was a brave horseman, but his time was come—destiny had written it—Allah have mercy on his soul!” He then commenced an examination of the dead man’s clothes, and found, as he had expected, in the shawl around his waist several small bags of money which the deceased had plundered from the villages whence he had taken the horses. Securing these in his own belt, he proceeded to lead away Nebleh, who was apparently 206bewildered by the death of her master, and accompanied him with the gentleness of a lamb.

Two or three of his men, who had followed the headlong chase as fast as their wearied horses could carry them, now drew near. Intrusting Nebleh to them, he slowly returned to the scene of the affray.

Hassan and the Georgian, after congratulating each other on the success of their expedition, began to examine into its results. Of their own party four were killed and ten wounded; of the Sammalous nine were killed and thirty made prisoners, of whom seventeen or eighteen were wounded. Several bags of money had been found besides those in the possession of Hassan, and forty mares and foals carried away from the villages, besides twenty-five horses belonging to the Sammalous themselves. These items, added to a goodly collection of swords, pistols, and other accoutrements, made up a very respectable prize to lay at the feet of the Kiahia.

The solitary Arab whom Hassan had thrown from his horse and had left bound had wandered from his party to drink at a neighbouring well, whither, being at no great distance from the scene of the affray, Hassan and the Georgian now determined to proceed, there to pass the night, the state of the wounded rendering it impossible to carry them back direct to the Pyramids. To the well, therefore, they bent their course, the wounded 207being placed and supported on the quietest horses. They found the prisoner bound in the spot where he had been left, and he was not a little surprised to see his comrades and all their booty captured like himself. He bore it, however, with the resigned indifference common to oriental fatalists.

Having arrived at the well, arrangements were made for the night encampment. The prisoners were all placed, disarmed, in a body, with a strong guard over them, and they were told that any attempt at escape would be punished by instant death. The horses were picketed, and Hassan intrusted Nebleh to his own groom, with orders to sleep close to her, and with one eye open: over these a guard was set, which was relieved every two or three hours, Hassan and the Georgian agreeing to watch each one-half of the night. The barley and bread captured from the Sammalous was more than ample for the wants of the party, and half-a-dozen torn-up shirts supplied the bandages necessary for the wounded.

The night passed without incident or interruption, and the following day they pursued their course leisurely to the Pyramids, where their arrival with their captives and booty created no little sensation. After consulting with Hassan the Georgian sent off a fresh horseman with a letter to the Kiahia, informing him of the result of the expedition, and requesting that one or two 208surgeons might be sent to attend the wounded of both parties: he also desired to know the Pasha’s pleasure whether he should convey the prisoners and recaptured booty into Cairo, or to the divan of the Governor of the province at Ghizeh.

The generous Georgian did not tell Hassan that in his account of the affray he had given the whole credit of its success to our hero, both from his having laid and carried out the plan, and crowned it by killing the Sammalous chief with his own hand.

Those who have lived or travelled in the East will exclaim, “This is unnatural; no Oriental was ever capable of so unselfish a trait.” Rare fruit in that clime we admit it to be, nevertheless the exception does not disprove the rule. However contrary it may appear to general experience, truth, modesty, and unselfishness may be found in the East—that is, among the Arabs, Turks, and those brought up with them. He that would seek such fruit farther East—that is, in Persia—had better settle his affairs before he starts, and be prepared for a journey of indefinite duration and worse than doubtful result.

Having despatched the messenger, and sent another to the villages which had been plundered by the Sammalous to desire their sheiks to come on the following morning to identify and claim their lost property, Hassan and the Georgian proceeded without delay to render such assistance as lay in 209their power to their wounded comrades: in this work of humanity they found an efficient coadjutor in Müller. For most of the wounds, after cleaning them, cold bandages were his panacea, and these he applied with remarkable skill and expedition. In two instances he had to employ probe and forceps for the extraction of a pistol-ball: in these he was equally successful, and he plied his hands and instruments with much knowledge.

Hassan, as soon as he could leave the wounded, was summoned to Mr Thorpe’s tent to give an account of the expedition and the affray, which he did with his accustomed modesty, passing lightly over his own share in them, and praising the gallantry of the Georgian and his comrades. But when he came to relate the chase, and what might be termed his flying duel with the Sammalous chief, his eye sparkled, and he told his tale with a force and vigour that produced the liveliest interest and excitement in his auditors. Emily gazed on the speaker in silence, and when he had concluded his narrative Mr Thorpe said—

“Hassan, you mentioned that the chief’s bullet grazed your side: in attending to the wounds of others, have you seen to your own?”

“Mine is a mere scratch; I have not even looked at it,” he replied.

“The very words you used before,” said Mr Thorpe, shaking his head, “when you had a ball in your shoulder which threatened to cripple you 210for life. I insist upon it that you allow Müller to examine it.”

“To please you, and to show you that I am grateful for the interest you take in me, I will do so,” said Hassan, rising, and he went with Müller into the adjoining tent. On examination the latter found that our hero, though not seriously injured, had very narrowly escaped. The ball had, as he termed it, grazed his side: the application of some lint and a plaster was all that Müller thought necessary. He returned to give his report to the Thorpes, while Hassan went to sup with his friend the Georgian, who had already invited the doctor to join them.

On the following morning at daybreak the messenger returned, bringing an answer from the Kiahia to the effect that Hassan and the Georgian, together with those who had accompanied them, were to convey the prisoners, horses, and other booty to the Governor’s divan at Ghizeh, where the Kiahia proposed himself to attend and to superintend the proceedings. The village sheiks having arrived, the party set forth to Ghizeh, and on arriving, Hassan was surprised and pleased to find there his chief, Delì Pasha, in attendance on the Kiahia. The hearty old Pasha welcomed Hassan with a smile, saying—

“Welcome, my son; you have done well, and have made my eyes glad.”

The Kiahia then sat down in the centre, with Delì Pasha on one side and the Governor on the 211other, Hassan and the Georgian standing near their respective chiefs. The proceedings commenced by an inquiry into the amount claimed by the several sheiks as having been stolen from their villages.

It were an endless task to relate the falsehoods and exaggerations uttered by each of these worthies as to the losses they had sustained: certain it is that five times the amount of money recovered would not have satisfied their claims. Hassan and the Georgian laid before the Kiahia the bags which they had found on the persons of the Sammalous, as well as the prisoners and the dead. Some of them were distinguishable by marks and seals: these were restored to their owners, and the others distributed according to the best judgment of the Kiahia. Still the claimants were dissatisfied, and one old sheik said—

“Would it not be well if your Excellency ordered these two young Mamelukes and their soldiers to be searched?—perhaps they have secreted some of the money.”

Hassan and the Georgian cast on the speaker looks of silent contempt, but the impetuous Delì roared out, “By my life, thou son of a dog, thou deservest to have thy white beard rubbed in the kennel! Dost thou think that these brave youths would risk their lives to recover your dirty piastres and then steal a portion of them? and if they had been thieves like thyself, dost thou think, thou 212father of asses, that they would have brought those piastres with them to this divan?”

The abashed sheik held his peace, and soon afterwards slunk out of the court.

The mares and foals claimed by the villagers were next distributed, and with less confusion and contention than the money, being more easily identified. This ceremony over, the Kiahia Pasha said—

“As the goods of the villagers have now been restored, the persons and property of the Sammalous thieves are at the disposal of the Government—the prisoners are condemned to three years’ imprisonment. Kawàsses, take charge of them, and remove them to Cairo. Now, Hassan and Reschid” (addressing the Georgian), “stand forth.” The young men obeyed. “Hassan,” continued the Kiahia, “the mare of the Sammalous chief whom you killed is yours. There are twenty-five horses, with arms and accoutrements, belonging to the Sammalous: of these fifteen are for you, as you took the principal lead in the expedition; the remaining ten are for Reschid.”

“My lord,” said Hassan hastily, interrupting the Kiahia, “pardon my freedom of speech. It is not just that I should take one horse more than Reschid: he is my senior, and he commanded your Excellency’s men; he fought and risked his life as I did. Whatever lead I had in the expedition was owing to his modesty and friendship: as we divided the duty equally, I beg your Excellency to divide the horses equally.”

213The Kiahia smiled aside to Delì Pasha and replied, “Wallàhi! Hassan, your sentiment is friendly and good, but it is out of my power to comply with your wish. There are twenty-five horses; how can I divide them equally?”

“May your servant speak freely?” inquired Hassan. On receiving an approving sign from the Kiahia he continued, “Four of the brave soldiers who fought with us fell in the affray; they will have left behind them perhaps poor parents, perhaps poor families. I would beg your Excellency to give me eight of the horses, the same number to Reschid, and to allow the remainder to be sold in the horse-market and the money to be given to those poor families.”

“Mashallah!” said the Kiahia, “you have spoken kindly and wisely; it shall be done as you wish. Do you and Reschid take all the horses, choose each your eight, sell the remainder yourselves, and give the amount to the families of those on whom Allah has had mercy.”^[74]

Hassan bowed, and was about to retire when the Kiahia again called him and Reschid before him, saying to them, “You have both done well, and the Viceroy is pleased that those who do good service should be rewarded; my khaznadâr has 214orders to pay you each five purses [£25] on leaving this presence.”

The young men answered with the customary “May your years and honours be abundant,” and withdrew. Hassan having received permission to send his mare and his eight horses into Delì Pasha’s stable, went back with Reschid to the Pyramids in order to take leave of his English friends, while the Kiahia and Delì Pasha returned to Cairo.

Our hero and Reschid, whose liking for each other had already ripened into a warm attachment, rode side by side, conversing on many topics, when the former suddenly said to his companion, “Reschid, I know not how you may feel, but I do not like being paid in money for doing our duty in scattering, capturing, and killing those thieves of Sammalous, and methinks it were a more fitting reward for those soldiers who shared our danger and who have got nothing. What think you if we were to divide among them these purses which have been given to us, and allow some additional share to the wounded?”

Reschid eagerly embraced and seconded the proposal, saying, “You are right, Hassan; we have all that we need under the shadow of our Pashas. The money will be better bestowed among these fellows, whose trade it is to take hard blows for money.”

The idea was no sooner conceived than it was put in execution. Halting under a clump of palm-trees, 215they called up the men, and after a few words of encouragement and praise for their good conduct, divided among them all that they had received, reserving, as they had proposed, a somewhat larger share for the wounded. As they again rode forward towards the Pyramids, one of the horsemen said to his fellows—

“If our Pasha would give us leaders like that young Hassan, we would follow them to the last drop of our blood. How unlike he is to our captain, whose hands are idle in the fight, and busy only in gripping the money.”

Hassan was very anxious to learn something of his new friend’s origin and early history; but the latter was not able to satisfy his curiosity, answering with a smile to his inquiries, “Our fates seem somewhat similar. You tell me that you are a foundling and know not your parents. I am much in the same case; for I was brought over here from Stamboul, in company with two of my sisters, when I was four or five years of age: the elder was betrothed and married; the younger was destined for some great harem, but she fell in love, married secretly—I know not whom—escaped, and has never since been heard of. As I never could learn the name of her husband, I have not been able to trace her.”

“As our fates are alike, so let our hearts be alike,” said Hassan cordially; “and may Allah some day reunite us both to those whom we have lost.”

216“So may it be! You are not a woman, and not very like one either,” replied Reschid, casting his eyes on the athletic proportions of his companion, “and yet my heart leaned towards you from the first moment I saw you. Inshallah! now we are friends, we will see each other much and often.”

“I should be truly glad,” answered Hassan; “but our intercourse will be soon interrupted, for Delì Pasha goes shortly to Siout as Governor, and I am to accompany him.”

“You will not remain there long,” said Reschid, “neither you nor your chief. Mohammed Ali likes him and his blunt ways. You will see that he will not leave him long at Siout.”

Thus conversing, the friends arrived at the Pyramids, where the report of their generosity to the soldiers and the wounded was soon spread over the whole encampment.

On the morning succeeding these events, Hassan, after taking leave of the Thorpe party, and recommending them to the care of his friend Reschid, returned to Delì Pasha’s palace on the banks of the river, where he was cordially welcomed by his chief and by Ahmed Aga. The fame of his exploits, if so they may be termed, had already spread over the whole house, and indeed had been painted in glowing colours by the old chief himself to his daughter.

No greeting of all those which met him on his return pleased him more than that of the little 217dumb Murad, who looked up into his protector’s face with eyes that scarcely required the aid of the tongue’s interpretation, as his nimble fingers signed the words, “Allah give you a long and prosperous life—I have heard all, and oh! I am so happy.”

Hassan patted the head of his young protégé and inquired what he had been doing during the last few days. The little boy had much to tell, and it required all Hassan’s attention to follow and understand the language of those fingers, whose rapidity of motion almost confused his sight. Murad had taken many messages, and got into high favour with old Mansour, who knew that he was himself the unintentional cause of the hurt which the dumb boy had received. Finding him very faithful and intelligent in the execution of commissions, Mansour had sent him frequently to the city to bring trifles and samples for the ladies of the harem, and had even conducted him to the ladies themselves, his age not rendering that step objectionable.^[75] He had taken some silks to Zeinab Khanum, and some otto of roses^[76] 218to Ayesha Khanum (probably the two wives of the Pasha); also some beads and turquoises to the lovely Amina Khanum.

“To whom?” cried Hassan, grasping the little boy’s arm with a grip which almost paralysed it.

“To the lovely Amina Khanum,” repeated Murad, astonished at Hassan’s outbreak. “And is she not beautiful as a houri?”

“And did you speak with her?” said Hassan, releasing the boy’s arm and striving to master his emotion.

“In truth I did,” he replied, “and she spoke to me kindly, and pitied my want of speech, and said she could almost weep for me.”

“Allah! Allah! would that I were twelve years old and dumb,” ejaculated Hassan.

“What said you?” inquired Murad, looking up into his face with astonishment.

“Nothing—nothing, boy; go on and tell me what passed with Am——, with the lady you were speaking of.”

“She patted me on the cheek, and made me tell her what happened on the day that you saved Mansour from the soldiers. She asked me whether you had been kind to me, and what could I say of my protector but that you had 219been to me more than a father or a brother? She wished to know where you were gone, and whether there would be bloodshed, and when you were coming back. I wrote all my answers on slips of paper (for I have taught my finger-talk to none but you), and while she was reading them her breath was quick, and her colour changed, and she was so agitated—by Allah! just as you are now, Hassan. What has happened?” added Murad timidly; “have I said anything to offend you?”

Much of what had fallen from Murad was music to Hassan’s ear and balm to his heart; yet a sort of dread came over him when he reflected how he had betrayed his feelings, and she hers, to a child, and one whose vocation it was to go from house to house with messages and commissions! Looking steadily into Murad’s eyes, he said, “Were you alone with the lady when this passed?”

“I was,” he replied, “for some time: two of the slave-girls were occupied at the other end of the room, but they were too far to hear what the lady said to me, and you know, Hassan, they could not hear what I said to her.”

This reply somewhat reassured Hassan, while its closing words moved his compassion. Fixing his eyes earnestly, yet kindly, on the boy’s countenance, he said to him, “Murad, do you love me?”

“Better than my life,” replied Murad, eagerly seizing his protector’s hand and pressing it to his 220lips. “Whom should I love, if I love not you? I have none on earth to care for, none to love, if it be not Hassan.”

“Then I charge you by that love,” said Hassan solemnly, “never to communicate what you have told me to any human being—not even to Mansour. Were you to do so,” he added, with a stern expression, “much as I pity and love you, Murad, I would rend your limbs asunder and give them to the vultures.”

Although hurt and surprised by the unwonted tone of his protectors language, Murad looked up in his face with a calm, untroubled countenance, and using his little fingers with slowness and precision, he said, “Kill me now if you doubt me! I am not noble nor honourable in birth, but I have a heart. Has Hassan forgotten our proverb, ‘The good man’s breast is the secret’s tomb’?”^[77]

“Enough,” replied Hassan, in the usual tone of kindness in which he addressed his young protégé. “I will trust you, and did wrong to doubt your truth. If you are again called to the Lady Amina, serve her and obey her faithfully in all things, but never communicate to any living 221creature what she may say or ask about me. You are too young to understand the dangers, the intrigues, and calumnies of a harem—only remember that one unguarded expression from you might be the cause of misery and shame worse than death to her.”

Hassan, having received a message from Delì Pasha, dismissed his little protégé and presented himself before his chief, who began talking to him on the subject of his expedition against the Sammalous, and in the course of conversation asked him what he proposed doing with the eight horses taken from them, to which Hassan replied that it was his wish to send them as a present to his foster-father among the Oulâd-Ali.

“That is well,” said the Pasha, smiling; “youth should repay the bread of infancy. But what mean you to do with the beautiful mare Nebleh?”

Hassan thought for a moment, and then replied, “She is, indeed, beautiful and swift beyond any horse that I have seen; but she is small and light—too much so to bear me either after an enemy or an antelope, too much so even to bear your Excellency with freedom.” Here Hassan cast his eyes on the large and vigorous, though somewhat corpulent, proportions of his chief. “I was thinking that it would be well if your Excellency were to make her a present from yourself to Mohammed Ali, for it does not become one in my rank to make him such an offering. His Highness is small 222and light in person; nor do I believe that he has a mare like Nebleh in his stable.”

“Wallàhi! you say well,” replied Delì Pasha. “Nebleh would fly under him; it shall be as you wish. But as she is your property, if I present her from myself I must buy her from you. How many purses shall I give you for her?”

“Under your Excellency’s favour I have no need of money,” replied Hassan, with an abstracted, melancholy air that struck the Pasha. “Some day I may have a favour to ask of you; then, if you choose, you may pay me for Nebleh.”

“As you will,” answered Delì Pasha. “I will write a letter to his Highness, which you shall deliver yourself with the mare; he is coming to Shubrah^[78] in a day or two. Now,” continued the Pasha, “you must go to your office, for the nazir [steward] of my village in Karioonbiah has been here with the year’s account—you know how I hate accounts—so I told him to wait your return. Look through his accounts, receive his money, and send him back.”

Hassan had scarcely taken his seat in his office, 223and was beginning to look among his papers for the last year’s accounts of the above-mentioned village, when a servant announced to him the expected nazir. On entering he made a profound and ceremonious salam to Hassan, and remained standing until the latter desired him to be seated; and when he obeyed this order, it was with a feigned reluctance that he placed himself in the attitude of most respectful humility by sitting on his heels, carefully covering them with the edge of his robe and his hands with its sleeve. Hassan, rather surprised at this overstrained humility, bestowed upon the nazir a scrutinising glance, the result of which did not predispose our hero in favour of his visitor.

While the usual pipe and coffee were being offered and discussed a few indifferent and customary phrases were exchanged, and Hassan had more opportunity for studying the countenance of the nazir. It offered one difficulty to his scrutiny, as the eyes squinted so remarkably that he could not tell when they were looking at him or when directed elsewhere. Though not superstitious, Hassan was not free from the strong prejudice entertained by all his countrymen against this unpleasant peculiarity;^[79] and he noted 224that in the nazir it was accompanied by a pinched nose, a narrow forehead, and a mouth round which a false, sneering smile perpetually played. The servants having retired, the new-comer began, after his own fashion, to take (as a sailor might say) the soundings of Hassan’s character.

“A very pleasant office this, O Aga, upon which you have lately entered.”

“Pleasant enough for those who prefer the pen and the carpet to the lance and the desert,” replied Hassan.

“There is a time for all,” answered the nazir. “Your respected predecessor found it so; he was fond of both; he and I were great friends.” He laid much stress upon the last two words, which did not raise him much in the estimation of Hassan, who had already discovered among his papers not a few proofs of his predecessor’s dishonesty. While assuming a careless air, he resolved to watch the man more narrowly.

“Doubtless,” he said, “those who serve the same chief should be friends together.”

This observation, which was merely general, misled the nazir into a belief that he was understood and met half-way.

“What a good chief he is to serve,” said the nazir, with his sneering smile. “Open hands and eyes closed, never looks into an account, that is the kind of master I like.”

“Yes,” replied Hassan; “I believe he trusts a 225great deal to his agents without looking after his own affairs.”

“Wallàhi! that he does,” said the nazir; “and as he has plenty, why should not others also eat bread? Do you know,” he added, lowering his voice, while his eyes, apparently directed towards the door, were fixed upon Hassan—“do you know how much your predecessor had for his share out of our village last year?”

“No, I know not,” replied our hero; “I have not looked through the accounts.”

The nazir smiled at his companion’s simplicity as he said, “Accounts, indeed! Oh, they are all right and signed by me, while mine are signed by the Sheik-el-Beled.^[80] We must all three be friends, you understand. The village is rated to pay Delì Pasha two hundred purses a-year [£1000], but we easily raise a great deal more, and that we divide amongst us for our trouble. Last year we got each of us fifty purses, and, Inshallah! by your good fortune, we have as much this year.”

“You must explain more to me,” said Hassan, dissembling his indignation under a semblance of simplicity. “I do not understand all the details of your village affairs. I had understood that in 226the new measurement of the lands which the Viceroy ordered to be made throughout Egypt a few years ago, far heavier demands were made on the fellah than under the old measurement: how comes it, then, that your village produces so much more than is written against it in the books of the Defterdar?”^[81]

“The land was then only half cultivated,” replied the nazir, “and was rated at only three ardebs^[82] the feddan [acre]. Since then Delì Pasha has spent much money on it in irrigation, and he is quite satisfied that it produces, as you see in our books, five ardebs; but we generally get seven out of it, and besides this there are many methods which we employ for getting an honest penny here and there out of the village. The recruiting time is our best harvest, for then all those who do not wish a son or a brother to be taken must pay the sheik well, and I have my eye always steadily fixed upon him to see that he shares fairly with us.”

“Then,” replied Hassan, “it is clear that the 227signature or seal of the sheik is necessary for all these papers, in case they should be suddenly called for and examined. How do you propose to arrange them with me in his absence?”

“He is on his way,” said the nazir, “and will be here to-night. To-morrow morning we will come to you together, sign the papers, pay you the money, take your receipt, and divide the little perquisite that we take for our trouble.”

He accompanied these last words with what he meant to be a knowing wink, but what was in fact a grimace so odious that Hassan could scarcely resist the impulse, which had been gradually growing, to kick him out of the room. But his resolution to seize and convict his accomplice the sheik enabled him to master the impulse, so he contented himself with saying—

“Well, bring him to-morrow morning and we will make it all right.”

“I will be here,” replied the nazir, who then rose and took his leave.

No sooner was he gone than Hassan’s indignation found vent in words which, although not uncommon among the Arabs, are scarcely fit to be translated for ears or eyes polite. As he was not aware what spies or partisans the nazir might have among the servants in the house, he took no immediate step in reference to the late interview, but strolled down to the stable and spent some time in directing the exertions of his groom towards the rubbing and 228polishing the satin coats of Shèitan and Nebleh, and beautiful they both were in their several styles—the one above the ordinary size, fleet, proud, strong, and fierce in his bearing to all but one; the other gentle, sagacious, unequalled in her speed as in the fine and delicate proportions of her limbs. Still when any stranger approached, she turned to look at him, as if expecting again to see the form, again to hear the voice, of her Arab lord.

Hassan understood the gesture, and went up to caress her, saying, “Faithful creature, thou shalt see him no more; his destined hour was come, and you are separated. But you shall at least go where you will be sheltered in all seasons, nurtured with all care, fed with all fresh grasses and grains; thy sleek sides will be covered with velvet and jewels, a gold-adorned bit in thy mouth, and on thy back will be a rider like thyself—slight, indeed, and small in size, but unwearied in energy, and of a spirit unquenched by danger and fatigue: wilt thou be happy, Nebleh?”

While thus speaking, or rather half audibly murmuring, he stood with one arm thrown over Nebleh’s neck and the other hand shading his own eyes, as his thoughts unconsciously wandered to Amina, and might have been embodied thus in words: “Were I lying on those sands where the Sammalous chief’s bones now rest, would she start and turn at every approaching step; and if afterwards they wedded her to wealth and splendour, 229and her robes were studded with jewels, and gold and pearls were upon her neck, would she be happy?”

Hassan was roused from his wayward and dreamy thoughts by the cheerful voice of his friend Ahmed Aga, who had come to inspect the far-famed Nebleh, and was surprised to find Hassan apparently asleep, though standing on his feet and his arm over her neck. “Why, how is this, my Antar?” he cried; “asleep, and with your arm on Nebleh’s mane.”

The sudden effort made by Hassan to recover his composure was not entirely successful; besides, he was too natural to feign with his friend a gaiety that he did not feel, so he replied—

“In truth, Ahmed, I was thinking of this poor animal’s former master, the Sammalous: she looks in vain for his return, and pricks her ears at every approaching footstep. Who knows what other loving hearts in the tents are also waiting in vain for that returning footstep?”

“Wallàhi!” said Ahmed; “if thou hadst only one-half thy size, and one-quarter of thy strength and courage, thou wouldst be a charming girl, and methinks I could court thee myself, for thy heart is as tender as that of Leilah herself. The Sammalous chief died like a brave robber, as he was, and far happier was it for him than to be captured and taken to Alexandria, and drag timber about the arsenal with two heavy chains round his ankles. Come, be pleased to remove thy 230giantship from the side of thy pet, that I may see her fair proportions.”

Hassan, relieved and restored to his wonted good-humour by the bantering tone of his friend, complied with his request, and after they had stood for some time commenting on the beauty and symmetry of the Arab, they returned together towards the house. On the way Hassan, having first ascertained that Ahmed was but slightly acquainted with the nazir, told him all that had passed, and at the same time communicated to him the plan that he had formed for the morrow.

“You may remember,” he said, “that in my office is a recess, covered over with a curtain, behind which, unobserved by any of the servants, I wish you to place yourself. There you will hear the rascality of these two confessed by themselves, even if they have not signed or sealed enough to convict them. At a signal from me you will come out; we will then seize them and deliver them over to the Pasha, to be punished as he sees fit.”

“With all my heart,” said Ahmed. “On my head be it; and, Inshallah! that squinting rogue’s feet will get a lesson that will mend his morals.”

On the following morning Hassan’s plan was carried out with complete success, and scarcely had Ahmed Aga ensconced himself in the curtained recess of Hassan’s office than the nazir entered, accompanied by the Sheik-el-Beled. The latter was what would be usually termed in Egypt a 231respectable-looking man, for one of his class; his turban and his dark serge robe well became the gravity of his countenance, and it required a close observation to detect the cunning that lurked in his small dark eyes. The servants who brought the pipes and coffee having retired, the nazir entered into the business which had been discussed at the interview of the preceding evening. He had not proceeded very far in his discourse when Hassan, interrupting him, said—

“This is a serious affair; it will not do to have servants coming in with messages until we have terminated it. I will lock the door.” While he was doing so the nazir said to the sheik in an undertone—

“The young greyhound takes well to the game; after he has tasted blood” (here he rattled the money in his bag) “he will be keener yet.” A grim smile, accompanied by “Inshallah!” was the sheik’s reply.

In order that the unseen auditor might hear the whole scheme of fraud developed, Hassan now caused the nazir to repeat what he had stated on the preceding day, under pretext that he had not thoroughly understood its details. Our hero also put from time to time a question to the sheik, whose replies, brief though they were, proved him to be a thorough participator in the villainy of his colleague, and rather led Hassan to think him the deeper rogue of the two.

232The discussion being closed, they now, as the nazir said, “proceeded to business”—i.e., to the signature of the falsified accounts—which ceremony was accompanied by the delivery to Hassan of a bag containing fifty purses (£250), which the nazir drew from an inner pocket of his ample vest. Hassan weighed the bag in his hand without untying it, then placed it in a niche of the wall above his head.^[83] The nazir and the sheik having attached their seals to duplicate copies of the accounts, the latter were handed to Hassan to be certified by him in a similar manner.

“Before doing so,” said he, “I will call another witness to my sealing. Ahmed Aga, come forth.”

No sooner did the two accomplices see the mirakhor emerge from the curtain than they knew they were detected and lost. The falsified accounts were in Hassan’s hand, and it flashed across the nazir’s mind that if he could recover and destroy them, proof might be difficult where two would have to swear against two; and, quick as thought, he threw himself on Hassan as the latter was rising from his sitting posture to his feet. But Hassan had his right hand free, and the unfortunate nazir never knew what a right hand it was until he found himself lying prostrate and bruised at the farthest end of the room. Ahmed Aga burst into a fit of laughter.

233“Mashallah!” he said, “a cheating, squinting, cut-purse dog like you to lay your dirty hands on our Antar. Ha! ha! ha! Come,” he continued, addressing the discomfited nazir, “give me up that sword, which you are unworthy to wear, or we shall have you trying to stab some one in the dark.”

Having received the fallen nazir’s sword, he opened the door, and calling aloud, ordered two servants to bring cords to tie the hands of the two miscreants and conduct them to the presence of Delì Pasha, whither they themselves at once proceeded, Hassan bearing with him the bag of money and the falsified accounts.

Whilst Hassan was narrating to his chief the manner in which he had been cheated by these scoundrels for years past, the Pasha’s brow was clouded. The written proofs of their guilt having been laid before him, and Ahmed Aga having testified to having heard from their own lips a confirmation of Hassan’s statement, Delì Pasha called aloud to his attendants to take the culprits into the court below and to give them each 250 blows on the feet,—“and mind that they are well laid on,” he added sternly. Then turning to the prisoners, he said, “You have owned to having continued this robbery for some years: after your punishment you will be shut up for a week, during which time you will find means to refund each 234100 purses, the avowed spoil of the last two years. If you fail to do so, I hand you over to the Mehkemeh [the public tribunal], where, as you know, the galleys will be your fate. Begone!”

In a few minutes the shrieks and cries of “Aman!” [Mercy!] that arose from the court satisfied the Pasha that his orders were faithfully executed, and he turned with a cleared brow to Hassan, whom he warmly praised for his fidelity and intelligence, adding, “You have well deserved that bag of fifty purses, and I would willingly give it you, but I know, my brave lad, that the offer would offend you; if, however, it would give you pleasure to wear an old soldier’s sword, that has drunk no little Wahabee blood in its day, you are welcome to it. I know it could not be in better or in braver hands.” As he said this he unbuckled his sword and gave it to Hassan, who pressed the holy legend on the blade^[84] to his lips and forehead, saying, “May your honours increase with your life, and may I never be unworthy of your favours.”

We must now transport the reader to the interior of a house, or rather a palace, which stood, and indeed still stands, on the banks of the Nile, about a quarter of a mile from the site of that which we have before described as being occupied 235by Delì Pasha. This palace was larger and better built than others in the neighbourhood; its foundations of solid stone formed a kind of pier, capable of resisting and controlling the waters of the Nile in their wildest mood, so that a person at one of the windows facing the river might drop a stone into the flood below. At the back of the palace was a large garden filled with orange, lemon, citron, and pomegranate trees, and protected by a high wall; while the lateral front of the building, on which side the windows were all closely latticed, commanded a view of the streets and of the passengers coming to and going from the port of Boulak.

In a private apartment of this palace, adjoining the ka’ah or large central saloon, sat a lady, apparently between thirty and thirty-five years of age, the character of whose remarkable countenance was hard to read and define. The features were not regular in detail, yet they were not wanting in a certain beauty of harmony, and though they betrayed strong passions, they denoted a still stronger will to command them. The eye small, but full of fire; and though the stature was below the average height, yet the form seemed imbued with command, and the gestures, though imperious, were not devoid of grace.

Opposite this lady, whom we shall so far involve in mystery as to give her no name but that of the Khanum, sate, or rather crouched, at a respectful distance the figure of a little old woman, whose 236features were a true index of her odious character. She was what is called in Arabic a dellaleh or saleswoman, a class who frequent oriental harems for the ostensible purpose of selling to the inmates jewels, silks, shawls, and toys of all descriptions, but are usually employed as the medium of all love affairs or intrigues in which the imprisoned beauties are or wish to be engaged.

“And is he then so very beautiful?” inquired the Khanum, with apparent listlessness.

“My lady, I am told that he is indeed beautiful as Youssuf,^[85] and strong and valiant as Antar, nevertheless the down of manhood is newly written on his lip.”

“Who may be your informant as to this wondrous youth?” said the Khanum, in a tone in which curiosity was veiled under a semblance of haughtiness.

“May it please you, my lady, it was Ferraj, the confidential servant of Osman Bey, who has seen this youth called Hassan both in the street and at the jereed play; and Ferraj is a man who has eyes—Mashallah! he is not blind. I have before now served him in luring birds of beauty to his master’s net, and——”

237“Peace, woman,” said the lady sternly. “Think you that I care to hear the intrigues of that ruffian Bey?” then dropping her voice to a lower key, she added, “Well, I will see this youth—I think you called him Hassan. When can you bring him hither?”

“It is not difficult, lady; to-morrow, if you will—unless he is absent on duty. Ferraj says that though all are afraid of him if he is angry, yet he is good-natured and simple as a child, and that if I only tell him that some one is in danger or in trouble, he is sure to come at once.”

“Well, be it for to-morrow,” said the lady impatiently; “only let me know in time whether you have succeeded.”

“And if I do succeed,” said the crone, “and if he be as beautiful as I have said, what will the generous lady bestow on her slave?”

“That,” replied the Khanum, pointing to a small European purse ornamented with pearls which lay upon a stool of ebony inlaid with mother of pearl beside her, and through the network of which a certain number of gold coins were visible. “Go now, be silent and faithful, or ... you know me.”

“That do I,” muttered the crone between her teeth, as she made her salam and left the room. “I know thee for the veriest dragon that ever wore the form of woman.”

That same evening, when Hassan retired to his small sleeping-room, he felt as happy, if not happier, 238than ever he had felt before: he had rendered to his chief an important service, and had received from him a sword of honour, a trusty blade of the finest Damascus temper, with which he hoped to carve his way to honour, distinction, and Amina.

As the image of the latter rose to view in his imagination, an irresistible impulse led him to close his door, mount the steps which he withdrew from behind his bed, and look through the aperture at the well-known window of his beloved. To his surprise and delight the lattice was open, and he could distinctly see the lovely form and features of Amina as she reposed upon a low ottoman; two candles in high silver candlesticks were on the carpet beside her; no other figure was visible, but Hassan knew that she was not alone, as he heard a voice addressing her in a low tone, which he fancied (although he did not catch a word) he recognised as that of Fatimeh Khanum.

In explanation of the open lattice, it must be remembered that Amina’s apartments were high from the ground, and that on the side of the outer palace on which they looked there was not a single window, save only the aperture made by two displaced bricks, through which Hassan had already drank so many deep draughts of love.

Now he could hear Amina’s sweet voice replying to her companion; but he saw that a kerchief was applied to her eyes, and that she was weeping bitterly. At the same time he thought—nay, he 239was sure—that he heard his own name uttered by the other speaker. Abhorring even the thought of eavesdropping, he came down from the steps and replaced them behind his bed, on which he threw himself in an agony of conflicting emotion.

“Allah! Allah!” said the unhappy youth. “I have caused her tears to flow for whose happiness I would sacrifice my life.” He then thought of the words of Fatimeh Khanum—of the high destinies reserved for Amina—of his own unknown birth and humble fortune; thence his thoughts passed to the kindness and trusting confidence shown to him by her father. “And shall it be said that I, Hassan, rewarded him by trying to steal the affections of his only daughter, the prop and pride of his old age. Why did I see her lovely face—why did I hear her sweet voice—why did I respond to her song? Allah! Allah! I have done very wrong—I have been blinded, bewitched, deprived of my reason. Ye cursed steps, ye have brought me to this evil.” So saying, he rose in haste, and after ascertaining that there was no one in the passage, he carried out the steps and replaced them in the same corner whence he had first removed them.

More than half the night he spent in framing resolutions to tear the image of Amina out of his breast, or if this proved impossible, as his heart whispered to him it would be, at least to bury it within him, and permit no temptation to induce him to seek a return of his ill-starred passion. “Inshallah! 240I will never cause her to shed another tear, unless some bullet or lance removes me from the earth, and she drops one on my grave.” With these resolutions Hassan fell asleep and dreamt of Amina.

The Easterns have a proverbial saying, that Fortune when serving Vice rides on an Arab horse, and when serving Virtue rides on a camel,—the moral being that she is generally swift to aid the vicious in their undertakings, whilst she is more slow, though more sure and steady, in aiding those of the virtuous. In illustration whereof it fell out that on the following morning Hassan rose early, and strolled in a musing mood on the road which led along the bank of the river to Boulak: he did not observe that he was followed by two persons at a little distance, an old woman and a man. “That is he,” said the latter in a low voice to his companion, and immediately withdrew.

Hassan walked slowly forward, and just as he came to a part of the road where passengers were few and an unfrequented by-street led from it, he felt his elbow lightly touched by some one from behind, and turning, he saw a woman, respectably dressed and covered with a long black veil, whom he knew at once from her round shoulders and stooping gait to be advanced in years.

“What would you with me?” he inquired.

“I have a message for the private ear of Hassan,” she replied, “if he will accompany me for a few 241paces up the street”; and without waiting a reply she walked on before him.

The dellaleh, for she it was, felt that she required great caution and tact in order to secure the acquiescence of Hassan in her demand; for she had ascertained some particulars of his habits and character, whence she inferred that if she abruptly proposed to him any affair of gallantry he would turn on his heel and leave her. Having reached a secluded part of the street, she stopped and said, “I have been asked by a lady who is in trouble to see Hassan, and inquire whether he is disposed to render her a service.”

“I do not understand or love mysteries,” replied Hassan frankly. “Who is the lady, and what service does she require at my hands? Has she not father, or brother, or sons, or friends, that she asks you to apply to a stranger?”

“My son,” said the old woman, modulating her voice to its softest tones, “know you not that in our country there are cases where ladies are deprived by fate of all these supports which you name? Know you not our proverb, ‘He is thy brother who befriends thee, not he who came forth from thy mother’s womb’?”

“True, my mother,” said Hassan, smiling; “yet I would fain know what service is required of me—is the lady oppressed, and has she need of my sword?”

“I am not in the Khanum’s confidence,” replied 242the wily crone. “She has, I suppose, heard of your courage and fidelity, and wishes to consult you on some matter touching her honour or safety.”

“If that be so,” answered Hassan, “I am ready—lead on.”

“Not now,” she replied, “spies are about; and you yourself know that it would be impossible to admit you to the door of the harem in the daytime. Meet me this evening at sunset under the large sycomore by the river on the road to Boulak, and I will conduct you to the house.”

“I will be there,” answered Hassan; and the crone left him to make report of her success to her employer.

“I have half a mind not to do it,” she muttered, as she went. “So young, so handsome, so unsuspicious; and after a few days’ revelling in wine and luxury, to be consigned to the cord or the deep well.” A shudder passed over her frame; but the tempter was at hand—if aught so foul and hardened as she could be said to require a tempter—the purse of gold flitted before her eyes, and she pursued her course to the side-door of her patroness’s house. Admitted at once to the presence of the latter, she reported the success of her mission, adding, “He will be here just after sunset.”

“Is he then so well-favoured as he had been described?” inquired the Khanum.

“Mashallah! you shall see with your own eyes, 243lady; my words are weak to describe what you will see.”

“It is well,” said the Khanum. “Go; I shall expect him at the hour.”

“What strange folly have I now committed,” said Hassan to himself, “in offering to assist this unknown person, and risking my neck within the walls of a harem? However, I have promised, and they shall not say that I held back from fear.” So saying, he secured his dagger within his sash under his inner jacket, buckled on his old sword, leaving the splendid jewel-hilted present of Delì Pasha in his room, and sallied forth to the place of appointment enveloped in a dark-coloured aba or cloak. He found the old woman under the tree, and followed her through several streets without exchanging a word, until they reached the postern door before mentioned, at which she tapped three times: it was opened immediately by a Berber bowàb, or porter, beside whom stood two Nubian eunuchs of large stature.

“Follow your conductor,” whispered the crone to Hassan; “my task is done.” And so saying, she withdrew from the door, which was closed and bolted.

Fear was a sensation as foreign to the heart of Hassan as to that of any man who ever walked on earth, but the closing of the bolts behind him, and the grim smile which he observed on the faces of the swarthy eunuchs, made him for a moment repent of having embarked in this 244mysterious enterprise; but recovering himself immediately, and placing a hand on the hilt of his dagger, he followed his guides in silence. They led him through several winding passages, and at last to a curtained door which opened on the larger room before described as the saloon of the palace, and, making him a sign to enter, retired. Four large candles in silver stands of unusual height lighted up the farther part of the saloon, by the side of which stood several trays loaded with the finest fruits and rarest sweetmeats, while on another were ranged rows of sherbet-bottles of various hues, and others that might contain the forbidden juices of the grape: all these things Hassan noted with a rapid glance, and also that for the present he was the sole occupant of the splendid apartment.

“If the lady be mistress of all this wealth and luxury,” said Hassan half aloud, “how strange that she should need aid or service from one so humble as myself.” He then walked forward over the soft and silent carpets towards the lights, and with the curiosity of youth began to examine the fruits, which surpassed in beauty all that he had seen, and wondered how such could be collected and procured in the end of November.

Hassan was not aware that while the lofty saloon in which he stood reached to the roof of the palace, there were adjoining rooms of half the height, and that through the beautifully painted lattice-work which ornamented the sides of the 245saloon there was a woman sitting in one of those dark rooms above, who, invisible herself, could see every feature of his countenance as he stood in the full glare of the wax-lights.

“Wallàhi!” as a dark fire flashed from her eyes, “for once that old daughter of Shèitan has not lied. None so handsome have I seen in this land; who, whence can he be? Bakkalum” (we shall see). So saying she left the room, ordering the eunuch who stood without to give her the key. The corresponding rooms, she knew, were closed and the keys she held. This strange woman trusted none of her women slaves—they were all sent to another part of the house; the only confidants of her wickedness being four powerful black eunuchs and the porter of the postern door.

Meanwhile Hassan began to weary of his splendid solitude, and finding his head almost giddy from the aromatic odours which rose from a censer burning in the room, he threw open the large latticed casement, which, from the sound of the rushing waters, he judged to look out upon the Nile. A young moon was rising, and not a boat was visible: the thought of the grim eunuch below flashed on his recollection, and as he gazed from the window on the turbid stream boiling below at a distance of thirty feet, a smile passed over his face. Retiring from the casement, he found himself suddenly standing before one whom he felt to be the lady of the palace.

246Her appearance has been described, and she had not neglected to embellish it by all the resources of art. Her dress was tasteful rather than splendid, and only one or two jewels of price betokened the rank and wealth of the wearer; her hands were small and graceful, to which point a single brilliant of the purest water attracted the eye; and the natural fire of her dark eyes was now heightened as much by the passion which burnt within them as by the kohl,^[86] which had shed a darker hue on their lids and on the arching brows above.

“Pardon me, lady,” said Hassan, “if I have done wrong in opening the casement; my head is not accustomed to these odours of aloes and frankincense, and I admitted the air of heaven. If you fear the cold I will close it.”

“I have no fear of cold,” she replied, as a ray shot from those piercing eyes; “let it remain open. But come and sit down on this divan; I have much to say to you in confidence. We can dispense with servants here; the fruits and sherbets will not spoil our conversation.”

Hassan did as he was desired, wondering not a little at the unrestrained language and manners of the Khanum, who had allowed her veil to fall from her head; but he observed that, from the height of the sill of the open casement and of the floor of the room itself, nothing of its interior, save the ceiling, could be seen from the river.

247The Khanum, with all her vices, was a woman of shrewd and sagacious intellect, and when she was in the mood few of her sex in the East could be more agreeable and prepossessing. She now employed all her powers to please her young and inexperienced companion, not omitting the artillery of her dark eyes. She observed, however, with secret spite, that the latter fell harmless on the impenetrable armour of Hassan’s inexperience or insensibility. When at length, after something that she had said about love, conjoined with money, pleasure, luxury, &c., Hassan understood her meaning, he replied with a cold and constrained air—

“Lady, we have been mistaken in each other. I came here believing that you were in trouble, and requiring such aid as an honourable man might give you with sword or counsel; and you brought me here thinking that I was a minion or a toy that might be bought with gold, and afterwards cast away like a worn-out dress.”

“Wallah! it is not so, Hassan. Whatever I have been or done before, I love you truly; and if you will only give me your love, all my time and wealth and power shall be spent in making you happy.”

“Lady,” replied Hassan with frank simplicity, “I will not mislead or deceive you. A man cannot give what is not his; I have only one heart, and it is given away. The gold in the Viceroy’s treasury could not repurchase it.”

248“Then you refuse and scorn my love,” she said, with kindling fire in her eyes. “Beware how you awaken my hate; none have ever done so and lived to tell it. I have means at hand for breaking your proud spirit. There are dungeons below which never see the light of day; a few weeks or months passed in them, with only black bread to feed on, will perhaps bring you to another frame of mind.”

“Khanum,” he cried, springing to his feet, “I replied to your offered favours with frankness and with courtesy,—your threats I despise.”

“Despise!” she cried, no longer mistress of her rage; “and this to me!” As she spoke she clapped her hands loudly together; one of the eunuchs appeared. “The man and the cord,” she said. The slave retired.

“Lady,” said Hassan, drawing his sword, “methinks you are scarcely prudent to trust yourself so completely in the power of one whom you threaten with the cord and the dungeon: before your slaves appear I could sever your head from your body. But I have said it—I pity and despise you.”

Her eye quailed beneath his stern glance; but at that moment the four black slaves, armed with swords, and one of them bearing a strong cord, entered the room.

“Seize and bind this villain,” she cried, “who has threatened and insulted me.”

249“Lady,” said Hassan in a low, determined tone, “you are mad. I could shout so loudly from this open window that neighbours and passengers would know what was passing in your harem. I must, if you force me to it, shed in your presence the blood of your slaves; but I would fain spare you. Think again, and let me depart in peace.”

Her only reply, as she arose and stamped her foot on the ground, was, “Seize him and bind him, ye cowardly slaves.”

“Must it be so?” said Hassan, grasping his dagger in his left hand and his sword in his right, while his eyes shone with that fierce fire which always animated them in the fight. “Come on, ye wretched slaves, and try your destiny!”

As he spoke these words, and, drawing up his towering form to its full height, placed himself in a posture of defence, the Khanum cast upon him a look in which love, admiration, and hate were strangely blended; but still she stamped her angry foot and ordered the slaves to do her bidding.

The negroes rolled their great eyes from their mistress to the powerful and well-armed youth before them, as if the job was not much to their liking; but their fear of the terrible and relentless Khanum prevailing, the boldest and strongest of the party advanced, whispering to his companion with the rope, “I will engage his sword in front, while you approach on one side and throw the cord over him”; and in this order 250they came forward, the two other slaves, with drawn swords, following close behind their leader.

Hassan saw their manœuvre at a glance, and before they could put it in execution he sprang like a tiger on the foremost, and guarding the cut which the other made at his head, he dashed the horny knob of his sword-hilt with such terrific force on his forehead that, after reeling backward several paces, he fell senseless at the feet of his advancing comrades. At the same instant, quick as lightning, he turned on the negro who had nearly reached his side with the cord, and with one cut laid open his right arm to the bone, the rope falling harmless on the carpet. Uttering a yell of pain, the negro sprang backward to the side of the two who had not yet ventured within reach of Hassan’s sword, and whose livid lips revealed their terror of an antagonist who in a few seconds had disabled the two strongest of their party.

“Come on! come on!” said Hassan, with a scornful laugh. “This game is more to my taste than the Khanum’s sweetmeats and frankincense.” But the men, instead of moving, cast their uncertain eyes on their disabled companions, and fear seemed to root them to the spot.

“Lady,” said Hassan in a stern voice, “there is no honour to be gained by me in wounding or killing coward slaves like these; once more I warn 251you bid them retire, and spare me the trouble of defiling your fair carpets with their blood.”

The Khanum looked at her disabled and trembling slaves, and from them to the bright, proud eye and commanding form of the young man; her spirit failed her, and her pride quailed beneath his glance.

“Retire,” she said, “and carry out that body, be it alive or dead.” The men obeyed, and the Khanum turning to Hassan, said in a trembling voice, “You have subdued one who was never conquered before. What is your purpose now—do you intend to kill me?”

Hassan, from whose brow the expression of anger had not yet passed away, looked at her in silence for a minute before he replied—

“Khanum, do I look like one who could strike a woman? It is punishment severe enough for you that I leave you alone with your own bitter thoughts. I know you, lady—yes, I know your name and rank, and others say what you have yourself avowed, that of those who have offended you none have ever lived to tell it. But I warn you that, if you pursue me with your hate and commission others to try and take my life, I will cleave their skulls with this good sword, and will report to the Viceroy what goes on in this house. If you choose that for the future there shall be peace between us, we will both forget this evening, and your secret is as safe with me as if I were dead: 252the choice rests with you. Now, lady, I shall go away;” and as he spoke he moved across the carpet towards the door.

“Stay—stay a moment,” cried the Khanum in affright. “Let me call back the slaves and give them their orders. The passages are long and narrow—you may lose your way; slaves are there armed; the porter too is armed, and he alone has the secret of that door-lock.”

“I had thought of all these things, lady,” said Hassan calmly, as he returned from the edge of the carpet where he had taken up his slippers,^[87] which he placed under his belt, tightening the latter at the same time so as firmly to secure them as well as his dagger. “It is not my intention to trust to the good faith either of yourself or your armed slaves in those dark passages; I prefer a road that is open and familiar to me as the expanse of the desert.” So saying, he leisurely approached the open casement, and looked out to see that no boats were below or in the neighbourhood.

“Stay!” she cried, looking out with a shudder on the rapid current that swept along the base of her house. “I swear to you by the Koran and by the head of my father that my slaves shall conduct 253you safely out of the palace.” And perhaps she spoke the truth, for at that moment a passion that she would have called love, and admiration for the youth’s dauntless courage, had banished from her mind the affront he had offered to her pride; but he calmly replied—

“Lady, if you are not treacherous, your slaves might be so. The Nile and I are old friends: if you are silent and your slaves faithful, you have nothing to fear for or from Hassan.” So saying, he sprang head-foremost from the casement into the rushing waters below. Uttering a faint shriek, she looked forth from the window, and soon afterwards, at a distance of fifty or sixty yards from where he dropped, she saw by the moonlight that he had risen to the surface, and was swimming leisurely down with the swift current of the Nile. “Mashallah! Mashallah! what a man is that! and what a woman am I!” And for the first time—perhaps for the last—during a period of many years that victim of ungoverned passion buried her face in her hands and wept tears of shame and remorse.^[88]

254

During the same evening Osman Bey, who had received orders to precede his chief to Siout, and who was now on the eve of departure, sat in the corner of a private room in his house, leisurely smoking a chibouq, and questioning his confidential servant, Ferraj, who stood before him with his hands crossed on his breast.

“So the old woman told you that she saw the young vagabond safe within the door of the harem, did she?”

“It is even so, my lord, and she heard the bolts of the door shut upon him by the bowàb” [porter].

“Allah be praised!” said the Bey, with a grim smile; “that upstart will not cross my path again—he will never leave that house alive. Be on your guard, Ferraj, and warn that old gossip to put a key on her tongue; for if it were to be known that you or she had a hand in this matter, your feet would be beat into a pudding, and she would sup with the fishes of the Nile.”

Leaving this worthy vice-governor to continue the preparations for his journey, let us return to our hero, whom we have most unkindly left swimming down the river on a cold November night. His course was rapid enough, and ere long 255he saw some lights on the right bank which he knew to mark a café where he often smoked his evening pipe, and which was not very far from Delì Pasha’s house: there he landed, and having wrung the water from his clothes, walked on towards the café, which he found occupied by only two or three drowsy smokers, the night being now far advanced.

Making his way into the host’s room, with whom he was well acquainted, he asked him to afford him lodging for the night, and to lend him a dry blanket or two, explaining his present appearance by saying that he had accidentally fallen into the water.

The host, with whom Hassan was a favourite, from his quiet habits and from his always paying ready money for his coffee and pipe, willingly granted his request, and ordered a fire to be lighted, at which our hero’s clothes were hung that they might be dry by daylight. Hassan himself, after drinking a cup of hot coffee, lay down on the floor in his blanket, and in a few minutes was in a sleep as profound as if he had been reposing on the softest bed in Cairo. Rising at the first grey of dawn, and making the best toilet that the circumstances admitted, he proceeded to Delì Pasha’s house before any of the servants were loitering about the door, and reached his own room unobserved.

Very few hours elapsed before he was summoned 256to the presence of his chief, whom he found in one of the private apartments, and before him stood a woman’s figure, in whom, although she dropped her veil over her face on his entrance, he recognised Fatimeh Khanum, the Kiahia, or governess of the harem. She was about to retire, but the Pasha stopped her, saying, “It is not necessary that you should go; I have but a few words to say to Hassan, and they contain no secrets.”

The Khanum withdrew a few steps aside, while the Pasha proceeded to inform Hassan that the Viceroy had suddenly arrived at Shoobra, and as it was necessary that a messenger should be sent to compliment his Highness on his arrival and inquire after his health, it would be a good opportunity for Hassan to take the message, and also to present the Arab mare Nebleh.

“I have written a letter,” he added with a smile, “which you will also bear, and which will inform our lord how I came to offer him this present.”

“May your bounties always increase,” replied Hassan; “on my head be it to obey your orders, but if I might be bold enough to make an observation——” here he hesitated, and cast his eyes aside at the Khanum, as if he would rather communicate what he had to say to his lord’s ear alone.

“Speak out, man,” said the impatient Pasha; “mind not our good Kiahia Khanum. She has 257been long in our house, and we know her discretion.”

“I wished to say,” replied Hassan, “that your mirakhor, Ahmed Aga, is a true and faithful servant of your lordship, and he is a true and good friend of mine: it is his right and privilege to convey to the Viceroy any horse presented by your lordship. On such occasions you know that his Highness gives a liberal present to the bearer. Were you to send me with the horse, it would be an unjust slight to a faithful servant, and would give me the pain of supplanting a friend.”

“Wallah! Wallah! you are right, boy. I had not thought of it. You shall go together: you may deliver the compliments and the letter, while he presents the horse.”

Before Hassan could reply, a servant came in to say that the Viceroy’s secretary was in the saloon with a message from his Highness. Starting up from the corner where he sat, Delì Pasha told them to remain where they were, while he went in to learn the secretary’s business with him. Thus were Hassan and the Khanum again accidentally left together.

“My mother,” said our hero in a low and melancholy voice, “I remember well what you said to me when we last met: your words cost me much pain, but they were wise and true. I feel how far more humble I am in rank than the priceless pearl whom you guard, and that it would be selfish in me to do 258aught that could mar her high fortunes. Inshallah! I will never cost her a tear; but there is no harm in my loving her with my whole heart and soul as the Gheber loves and worships the sun, though he knows he never can reach it. Such is my destiny; Allah has willed it; and I could more easily pluck out my eyes from my head than her image from my heart. Tell me, then, is she well and happy?”

“She is well,” replied the Khanum in a trembling voice, while she muttered to herself in an agony of sorrow, “Allah, Allah, what is to be done? Both these young loving hearts will be broken, for her love is as deep and passionate as his!”

Hassan saw that she was weeping; a secret instinct told him that he was loved by Amina. The ominous question shot from his eager eyes and rushed to his lips, but by a strong and determined effort he conquered himself, and compressed within him the words on which his destiny hung. He saw that the Khanum pitied him, that her heart was under the influence of tender sympathies, and he would not tempt her to forget her duty and betray a secret which she was bound to preserve.

Fatimeh Khanum saw the struggle, and loved him the more for it. The Pasha’s returning steps being now audible, she had just time to say, “Allah preserve and bless you with all good,” when he re-entered the room and resumed his seat.

“Hassan,” he said, “I have informed the secretary of your mission to Shoobra, and he says that the 259Viceroy will be disengaged about the time of the âs’r to-day [three o’clock P.M.] Ahmed Aga shall go with you, and present the mare as you propose, and you will deliver to his Highness this letter.”

Having received the letter, Hassan withdrew, leaving his chief to continue his conversation with the Khanum.

“What is the matter with Amina?” he said; “I have lately found her sad and weeping.”

“How can your servant tell?” replied the Khanum. “Perhaps my young lady is still afraid that your lordship will oblige her to marry some one whom she cannot love—you had spoken to her on some such subject.”

“Foolish child!” replied the Pasha. “Tell her, then, to dry her tears, for, Wallah! I only wish to see her happy, and I will not marry her by force to any one.”

“I will convey your gracious message, and it will give her much comfort,” said the Khanum, glad to escape from her lord’s presence; for she felt oppressed by the secret of the mutual passion of the young lovers, and dreaded lest by some unforeseen word it should come to light.

Nebleh had been washed from head to foot in tepid water, and then rubbed dry with cloths until her coat shone like the finest satin. Her sweeping mane and tail had been carefully combed, and as she walked by the side of the sàis who led her, with a light elastic tread that scarcely touched the ground, 260Ahmed Aga sighed to think that such a beautiful animal was about to leave the stable of his chief.

When they reached the garden and mentioned their names to the porter at the gate, they were at once admitted, and found the Viceroy reclining on the crimson damask cushions of a divan in the corner of his kiosk, and smoking a chibouq. On the floor, at a little distance, sate a Bedouin sheik from the neighbourhood of Mount Sinai; and a little farther stood, in respectful silence, a good-looking boy, with a round chubby face and dark eyes, whose dress and jewel-hilted sword showed him to be of high birth.

Hassan and Ahmed Aga having entered and made their salam, the former informed the Viceroy that he was charged by Delì Pasha to present his respects, and to congratulate his Highness on his safe arrival. Having said this he came forward, and touching his forehead with the hem of the Viceroy’s pelisse, delivered his letter. Mohammed Ali took it, and bending his keen eyes on the bearer, as was his custom, with a scrutinising look, he desired his secretary, who then entered the room, to read it to him.^[89]

The latter did so in a low voice that reached only his master’s ear, but it was easy to see from the 261twinkling of his eyes and the expression of his countenance that he was both interested and pleased by the contents. When it was concluded he simply said, “Peki, peki” (Very well, very well), then asked Ahmed Aga his business.

“May your Highness’s life be prolonged. I am your servant, Ahmed Aga, mirakhor to Delì Pasha, who has charged me to present to you in his name the Arab mare Nebleh, who is, I believe, mentioned in the letter just honoured by your perusal.”

“Where is she?” said Mohammed Ali; “I would see her.”

“I left her outside the garden gate,” said Ahmed. “The walks in your Highness’s garden are not for horses’ feet.”^[90]

“True, true,” replied the Viceroy. “Inshallah! we will go out and see her. Come along, Sheik Abou-Fazl, you should know an Arab mare; and you too, Abbas, will like to see one.” So saying he walked to the garden gate, followed by the party and preceded by a dozen of his kawàsses.

When they reached the gate, Ahmed Aga stripped Nebleh of the light gold-edged cloth which he had thrown over her to keep the dust from her glossy coat, and the Viceroy’s eye fell on her form, in whose symmetrical proportions neither envy nor criticism could find a flaw.

262Mohammed Ali looked at her in grave and silent admiration, the Arab sheik gave a strange grunt conveying a similar impression, while the young Abbas’s eyes told the same tale, though he could not venture to speak until spoken to in the presence of his grandfather. After being led about for a few minutes amidst the “Mashallahs!” of all who saw her, she was saddled and bridled by the Viceroy’s order, who turned to Hassan, saying—

“We know your horsemanship well; we should like to see her gallop and play.”

“My lord,” replied Hassan, casting down his eyes upon the large proportions of his frame, “although Nebleh could carry me, and would carry me until she dropped dead, she would look better and move more easily under a lighter rider. If your Highness will permit this young Prince (for such I take him to be) to mount her, I think it would please him much, and would show the mare to better advantage.”

“Well, be it so,” said the Viceroy, adding in a lower tone, “She is not violent or restive, is she?”

“Quiet and docile as a lamb, though swift as an eagle,” was the reply.

With eyes sparkling with joy the young Prince jumped into the saddle, and in a moment Nebleh was in full career: now wheeling to the right, now to the left, at the slightest touch of the heel or bridle, and after a few minutes returning to the spot whence she had started, with her transparent 263nostril widely dilated and her proud eye awakened by the inspiriting gallop.

“Aferin! aferin! [well done] Abbas,” said the Viceroy; “it is enough for the present. Ahmed Aga and Hassan, you may return to Delì Pasha, and convey to him our friendly greeting and our wish that Allah may prolong his days.”

The two friends made their obeisance and slowly returned towards Boulak.

“Do you know who is that youth?” said Ahmed Aga to his companion.

“I know him not,” replied Hassan; “but from his dress and bearing I suppose him to belong to the Viceroy’s family.”

“You conjecture rightly, and the Viceroy is said to be very fond of him: he is the son of Toussoun Pasha, Effendina’s second son,^[91] who distinguished himself so much in the war against the Wahabees. Alas! his fate was a strange and sad one.”

“I have heard,” said Hassan, “that he died in the prime of life, but I know nothing more.”

“After his successes in Arabia,” continued Ahmed Aga, “he was so popular in the army that Ibrahim Pasha grew jealous of him and hated him; but what is more strange is that his own 264father also grew jealous of him, and of his popularity with the soldiers: perhaps his suspicions were strengthened by the tales of slanderers, who told him that Toussoun meant to rebel against him and dethrone him. Certain it is that the unfortunate Prince died of poison administered to him in some sherbet or wine that he drank during a feast given by him to some of his friends: he died immediately, and it is believed that the poison was given by Mohammed Ali’s order.”

“Horrible!” ejaculated Hassan. “Father and son! As it is not proved, let us hope it is not true.”^[92]

265“The Discoverer of Secrets [i.e., Allah] knows,” replied Ahmed; and conversing on various matters, they reached the house of Delì Pasha.

No sooner had they put their feet on the stairs leading to the saloon than they became aware that something unusual had occurred: a crowd of servants had gathered near the door of the room, and from within was heard the voice of the Pasha pouring forth at its highest pitch a torrent of threatening vituperation. “You have never seen him in one of these fits of passion,” whispered Ahmed Aga to Hassan; “when they seize him he is mad and ungovernable.”

Hassan having inquired from one of the servants the cause of this storm, was informed that it was about a sword with a jewelled hilt of great value which Mohammed Ali had given to the Pasha 266after the war with the Wahabees. It had been in charge of a young Mameluke named Kasem, who filled the office of Master of the Wardrobe, and as it was now missing, Delì Pasha charged him with stealing it, and threatened to have him beaten to death. As this lad was one of those who had sportively attacked Hassan on the day of the jereed play, and from his frank and merry character was one of our hero’s favourites, he would not believe him guilty of such a crime without the strongest proofs, and he resolved at once to hear what those proofs were.

Forcing his way through the crowd at the door, he entered the room, and his eye immediately fell upon the youth accused, standing apparently under arrest, between two of the servants. Hastily walking up to him, Hassan fixed his searching gaze on the countenance of the youth and said, “Kasem, tell me, by your life and by your father’s head, have you committed this crime?”

“Wallah, I have not!” replied the youth, looking up in Hassan’s face with a firm voice and clear, untroubled eye; “but our lord will not hear nor listen: the sword has been stolen from my room, but who is the thief is only known to Him to whom the absent is present.”

During this short dialogue the Pasha had continued, like an angry lion in a cage, pacing up and down the upper end of the room as if “nursing his wrath to keep it warm” by rapid motion as 267well as by curses and threats; his eyes were inflamed, and his face red up to the very temples. These violent bursts of passion, although of late less frequent than of old, when they procured him his name of Delì (mad), were well known to his followers and servants, and while they lasted none dared to speak a word to him. Suddenly he stopped and shouted to the youth, “Viper! son of a dog! wilt thou confess thy crime, and where thou hast hid the sword?”

“My lord,” replied the youth in a humble yet sincere tone of voice, “I have told you all I know: the sword has been stolen from my room—I know not where it is.”

“Dog of a liar!” cried the Pasha in a still louder tone. “Take him away and beat him till he confesses: give him three hundred on the feet, and throw him into the dungeon. Away with him!”

With a hasty signal to the man who held the youth to delay a moment, Hassan came forward, and, to the astonishment of all the household, walking composedly to within a few feet of the Pasha, said to him—

“My lord, let me entreat you to have a little patience, and defer the punishment of this youth; perhaps we may find the sword or discover the thief.”

“And who are you?” cried the Pasha, astonished at this unwonted audacity; “who are you that dare to offer me your unasked counsel, and come between me and my revenge?”

268“I am your servant Hassan, whom you have already loaded with favours, and therefore it is that I love my lord so well that I wish his displeasure rather than see him commit an act of injustice.”

“Begone,” roared the Pasha, “if you would not drive me mad. When that imp of Satan has stolen a sword, the reward of my services and my blood, am I to be told by an upstart like you that I may not punish him?”

“You may punish him, doubtless,” said Hassan calmly; “you may punish any in your house, for you have the power: but if you do punish him now, and after a few days we bring you the sword, or proof that it was stolen not by him but by others—I know your generous heart—you will then suffer tortures; you will curse this hour of hasty passion, and will say, ‘Had I not one faithful servant to say to me, Do not stain your name with this act of cruelty?’”

During this speech the rage of the Pasha had been burning with a fiercer fire: to be thus lectured and reproved in the height of his fury by a mere youth, and in the presence of all his household, was a trial to which his fierce temper had never before been exposed. His lip grew white, and his limbs literally trembled with concentrated passion.

“Son of a dog!” he cried, “if thou wilt not hold thy peace this shall silence thee——”

As he spoke he drew his dagger from his shawl-sash 269and rushed at Hassan, who was standing a few yards in front of him.

Hassan plainly saw the movement, and with his activity and gigantic strength could easily have either sprung back a few feet and drawn his sword or have wrested the dagger from the feebler hand of the Pasha, but he saw before him only Amina’s father. Opening wide his arms, with a calm, unblenching eye, he presented his broad chest to the descending blade: it fell, but harmlessly over his shoulder, for the demon-spirit had overpowered the frame which it possessed, and muttering, “Allah! I cannot do it,” Delì Pasha staggered back a few paces, and would have fallen to the ground had not Hassan caught him in his arms and borne him gently to the divan whence he had so lately risen in the full tide of excited passion.

All the attendants now crowded round the insensible form of their lord, whom, by the order of Ahmed Aga and Hassan, they caused to be instantly transported to the private apartments of the harem, while servants were sent in all directions for the most skilful surgeon that could be found. Not many minutes elapsed before the arrival of one possessed of some skill and of presence of mind; blood was freely taken from the arm; soon afterwards twenty or thirty leeches were applied to the back of the neck, and before nightfall the symptoms that threatened a dangerous brain fever had passed away.

270Meanwhile Kasem was confined to his room and a guard placed at the door. He was a general favourite, and none believed him guilty of the theft; but as the sword had been in his custody, it was judged necessary to keep him in confinement until some further light could be thrown on the case, or the Pasha’s ulterior pleasure be ascertained.

In the course of two days, during which the invalid was tended by the affectionate and unremitting care of Amina, the Pasha made rapid progress towards recovery, but he observed a sullen and profound silence as to the cause of his illness, neither did he issue any orders respecting the punishment of Kasem; but all the circumstances were already known throughout the harem, the eunuchs having gathered them from the servants and repeated them, with various additions and exaggerations, to the women under their charge. On one subject all the reports agreed—namely, that Hassan had mortally offended his chief, and that his dismissal was certain.

Meanwhile all the exertions made by Ahmed Aga, Hassan, and others to trace the missing sword or discover the thief had been unavailing, until on the third day Reschid, the favourite Mameluke of the Kiahia Pasha, came to see his friend Hassan, and the smile on his countenance announced that he had some good news to communicate.

271“Hassan,” he said, “you may remember that on the evening of your Pasha’s illness I was sent here to make inquiries after his health by my lord: you told me about the missing sword which he so much valued. One was brought to me for sale this morning by a Jew who resides in the farthest part of Cairo, which formerly belonged, as he said, to Ibrahim Elfi, the great Mameluke Bey. I doubt the story. Should you know your Pasha’s sword if you saw it?”

“Yes,” replied Hassan eagerly, “for I have seen it more than once in the hands of young Kasem when he was rubbing the blade to keep it bright. I know the sword even if the scoundrel has picked the diamonds out of the hilt.”

“Come, then, with me,” said his friend; “we have no time to lose, for I told the Jew this morning that I was busy and had not leisure to bargain with him then for the price, but that he might leave it till the âs’r [3 P.M.], when he might return, and if we agreed on the price, I would pay him the money.”

A short hour’s ride brought the two friends to the Kiahia’s palace, where they dismounted and proceeded at once to Reschid’s room, in one corner of which was a sword. Hassan drew the sword from its sheath and exclaimed—

“Wallah! it is the same. See, near the hilt is a lion of inlaid gold, and below the words Fath-min-Allah [Victory is from God]. But, as 272I expected, the rascally Jew has taken the diamonds from the hilt and replaced them by these strips of gold.”

“El-hamdu-lillah!” cried Reschid; “the character of poor young Kasem will, I trust, now be cleared.”

The Jew having arrived at the appointed hour, was surprised to find himself in the grip of Hassan, who threatened to shake the life out of his body if he did not confess from whom he had got the sword. The affrighted Jew, finding that denial was vain, owned that it had been brought to him by a servant of Delì Pasha’s, named Youssuf, a few days before, and that he had himself taken out the diamonds to prevent its recognition. The two friends followed up the investigation with energy. Under the wholesome discipline of the stick Youssuf confessed that he had stolen the sword from Kasem’s room while he was in attendance on the Pasha. The diamonds were immediately recovered and replaced. On the fourth evening the sword was sent up into the harem by the chief eunuch with the following note:—

“Honoured and Respected Lord,—The sword was stolen by the slave Youssuf while Kasem was waiting in your presence. This from your faithful and devoted

Hassan.”

273Delì Pasha had read this note aloud. When he had finished it, Amina sprang up, and saying, “Allah be praised!” burst into tears of joy.

“Whence this strong emotion?” said he, surprised at her feeling so much interest in the subject.

“Because,” she replied, while blushes mantled over her face and neck—“because I knew how much you valued that sword.”

Oh, you little hypocrite, Amina!

Delì Pasha recovered slowly, and for several days never left his harem: something seemed to weigh upon his mind, and all Amina’s caresses and endearments were unable to restore his usual spirits. She could not understand the cause of this melancholy, for his lost sword had been recovered, the young Mameluke Kasem had been liberated by his order, and Mohammed Ali had shown his regard for him and his appreciation of the Arab mare Nebleh by sending an officer specially to inquire after his health, and to present him with a diamond ring on the part of his Highness, accompanied by a handsome sword for Ahmed Aga and a cashmere shawl for Hassan.

By dint of coaxing she at length elicited from him that his proud spirit was chafing at the humiliation to which he had been exposed by the outbreak of his ungovernable temper before all his household, and that exposure he most unjustly laid to the account of Hassan.

274“My father,” she said as she sat at his feet, while his hand unconsciously played with the dark, redundant tresses that fell over her shoulders, “now that anger and illness have passed away, and that your good health and judgment are returning, do you not see that what Hassan did was done in fidelity and true service to you? Had he not spoken and stayed you in a moment when wrath had clouded your reason, the poor Mameluke would have been beaten nearly to death for a fault of which he was innocent. What would then have been said of my father’s justice and humanity? Now that all has terminated so happily, ought you not rather to thank Hassan than to blame him?”