"You said that the Mohammed of the days when I resided in Cavalla is dead. Is it true?""Yes, highness, it is true. He is dead, or he has at least transformed himself into a better man. Yet, highness, he suffered much before he could accomplish this transformation.""That I can readily believe," says Cousrouf, in low tones. "I have often regretted having caused you this misery. Yet you must have become satisfied yourself, young man, that I could not do otherwise.
I acted in accordance with the law."
"You only acted in accordance with the law," replies Mohammed, in a low voice. "The law ordains that the faithless runaway be punished, and also he with whom she has fled. The captured slave was killed, and it seems to me it was an act of clemency to permit him who loved her to witness her execution without being able to help her. Yes, an act of great clemency. You might have punished me more severely."Again Cousrouf gazes into his countenance searchingly. The tone of his voice is mild and submissive, yet his words bear stings.
"I should think, Mohammed, that death itself were preferable to the punishment of being compelled to witness the execution of the beloved without being able to help her. In the years that have since passed, I have often thought that it was cruel, and wished I had not dealt so harshly with you. Does it suffice that I confess this to you? Will you say this to the other--the dead and transformed--and will it console him?""O master, what magnanimity!" exclaims Mohammed.
"You are generous enough to confess that you feel regret at having done justice to that slave?""I was passionate, and you had excited my wrath," replies the pacha, gently inclining his head.
"Not I, highness," says Mohammed, smiling. "Not I, the sarechsme, but that wild, insolent boy, Mohammed, of whom no trace now remains.
He is buried in the sea, at the place where the waves closed over Masa. Yet, if that Mohammed still lived and heard what you say, he would bow down in the dust before the great man who condescends to confess that he regrets what he has done. However, should I see that Mohammed, I will tell him of this never-to-be-forgotten magnanimity.""I will give you a souvenir of this hour," says Cousrouf, gently. "Iam so happy myself to-day that I desire to see the happy only about me. You are now a general. I should like to see you worthily fitted out for your new dignity. Have you a steed suitable to your rank?""I am poor, highness, and have nothing but the salary which your highness will bestow on me.""Above all, you must have a good horse. I have received from the grand-sultan, in Stamboul, in honor of my entrance into Cairo, four beautiful horses. I make you a present of one of them. Go down to the stables; they shall be shown you, and you shall select the one that pleases you best. Be still! no word of thanks! Show your gratitude by serving me faithfully. Are you already provided with a dwelling?""No, highness. The bim bashi had but just arrived with Hassan Aga from Alexandria, and has as yet had no time to look after a dwelling.""A house shall be prepared for you," said the pacha; "I will see to this myself. Remain in my palace to-day; tomorrow you shall have a house of your own. Now go and select the best of the horses. I hope you are a connoisseur, and will easily pick out the best one; it shall be delivered to you completely equipped." He calls a slave who stood waiting without, and commands him to conduct the sarechsme to the courtyard, and order the horses to be led before him.
Mohammed, his head bowed down in profound reverence, withdraws to the door, walking backward. Cousrouf follows him with his eyes until the door has closed behind him, and then a smile glides over his countenance.
"This man is won over to my interests. He is right; he is transformed, body and soul, and he is mine. And truly such a friend is a valuable possession."Mohammed descends with the slave to the court-yard. The latter hastily summons the equerry, and delivers his master's message. The beautiful horses, with their splendid trappings, are now led before Mohammed. The new sarechsme selects the handsomest and best; he wishes to show the viceroy that he can judge of the beauty and fire of a horse. Mohammed then retires to the rooms set apart for him in a wing of the palace. When left alone, his grave countenance relaxes, and a triumphant smile plays about his lips.
"The work is begun," murmurs he to himself. "The viceroy has himself called his enemy to his side. He thinks, with his favor and flattery, to make me forget what I have endured. He shall learn that Mohammed Ali never forgives. You are lost, Cousrouf, for you slumber, while I watch and will take advantage of your slumber.
Beware, Cousrouf, beware! I will not be your murderer, you shall live, but I will humble you; you shall sink down in the dust before me! Let that be the revenge for Masa, my white dove, and for myself!"
