Mohammed turned his head a little to one side, and avoided meeting the merchant's keen gaze. " O yes, a number of other things. I want some table-ware, cups, glasses, and the like. I also want," he continued talking rapidly, and with forced indifference, "I also want a warm woollen cloak, such as women wear. I promised a cloak to an old friend of my mother. Give me a warm woollen cloak."The merchant made no reply. He only smiled significantly, and brought out the goods; dark, plain goods, such as became an old woman, and a friend of poor Sitta Khadra.
But Mohammed promptly rejected it. That would not be nice enough for a present. He wanted better, finer material, and in lighter colors.
The merchant expressed no astonishment, but silently brought out finer goods. Mohammed selected the very handsomest cloak for the old friend of his deceased mother. Finally, he timidly asked for finger-rings and bracelets.
"Also for the old friend of your good mother Khadra?" inquired the merchant, with an air of mock gravity.
Mohammed did not reply; he had probably not heard him. He quietly selected, from the box handed him, a beautiful ring set with a precious stone, then four beautiful cups and saucers of the finest Chinese porcelain, and a variety of other articles necessary for housekeeping. He concluded by demanding a pair of pillows and coverlids.
Mr. Lion asks no more questions; he now knows that Mohammed intends to marry, and is furnishing his house. He is satisfied, and lets his young friend have all he has selected at half the price he would have charged other purchasers.
Mohammed joyfully paid the price, and gazed at the beautiful articles he had purchased, with sparkling eyes.
"If you wish it, Mohammed," said the merchant, "I will send a servant with you.""Thank you; I am going to my house, and he can accompany me with the things."Mohammed took leave of the merchant, and left the store, the servant following heavily laden.
After a few moments Mohammed, however, turned, and came back to the merchant, who was standing on the threshold looking after him.
"One thing more, dear sir. You are my friend, and, as I well know, mean well by me," said he, in low, hasty tones.
"Certainly, Mohammed Ali, and gladly would I prove to you my friendship.""You can do so; tell no one of my purchases--no one," replied Mohammed with a look of entreaty.
The merchant promised to be silent on the subject.
"Thank you, kind friend. I am happy; yet all depends on Allah's blessing."He pressed the merchant's hand once more, and walked out, hastily beckoning to the servant, who had remained standing in the street, to follow him. He then walked on to the little hut of his mother Khadra.
He pushes open the door, and the servant follows him into the room.
The bundle is laid on the floor, on the place where his mother died, and Mohammed generously and proudly, like a man of rank, hands the servant a gratuity, and bids him return. He walks off well pleased, and Mohammed is now left alone in his mother's hut.
An old woman is sitting just opposite the hut. She was there when he entered, smoking a short pipe, her arms crossed on her knees. She looked about carelessly, only now and then casting a glance at the house of the young boulouk bashi, who had locked himself in.
Mohammed had thought nothing of her presence. What cared he for the old woman there on the stone, smoking her pipe?
When, after a short time, he steps out of his hut, she stretches out her hand and begs for alms.
Hardly looking at her, he draws a copper coin from his pocket, gives it to her and walks on.
The old woman keeps her seat, and mutters a few words to herself.
Mohammed walks on rapidly.
A boy is skipping along on the other side of the street, whistling a merry air.
What does this concern Mohammed? He walks on down the street on the one side, the boy follows him on the other.
Mohammed heeds the boy as little as he had heeded the old woman.
What does he care for the boy, who seems wholly absorbed in his musical efforts?
He entered the store of the merchant, who dealt in all kinds of provisions; in olives, meats, chocolate, sugar, and eggs. Mohammed purchases some of all these articles, and it amuses and astonishes the merchant to see the young officer become, of a sudden, his own housewife. But he does not venture to say so, or ask any questions;Mohammed's grave looks and bearing forbid any attempt at raillery.
A servant is ordered to put the things in a basket, and take them to his house.
As he walks out of the store again, he hears the boy's shrill whistling in the distance. He pays no attention to this, and walks on quietly. The whistling suddenly ceases, and the boy, who had posted himself in the vicinity, so that Mohammed could not see him on coming out, now runs after him, stepping close to the basket in passing; he casts a quick, searching glance at the articles it contained, as if taking note in expectation of being called on to give an account of its contents.
The old woman is still sitting opposite Mohammed's house, reposing there, apparently, after smoking her pipe. Her head is thrown back, resting against the door, and her eyes are closed; she seems to be sleeping.
