"Did I not tell you of my promise to my father? No man shall ever kiss me except the one who shall lead me to his tent as his wife. It is well that father is coming. Farewell, sarechsme, if I should riot see you again! Farewell! and let me keep my vow!"She gently pushes him back, and flies out of the tent to meet her father. Sheik Arnhyn recognizes and hails her with a shout of delight.
"Butheita, have you succeeded, have you guarded the stranger well?""I have taken good care of him; come, father, and see!" She takes her father's arm, and, without looking at the man who walks close behind him, draws the sheik quickly to the tent.
But Mohammed, with a proud and grave expression of countenance, advances to meet them. Butheita now hardly recognizes, in the haughty sarechsme, with his imperious bearing, the stranger, who is no longer a stranger to her heart.
"Speak, sheik! How dared you lead me away, a prisoner, from my army?
Really, you were very presumptuous. Such conduct is calculated to excite my just anger and indignation."The sheik made a profound obeisance.
"I trust you will forgive me, sarechsme; what I did was done at the command of my master. There he comes; he is called Osman Bey Bardissi. He comes crowned with victory, and will treat with you.--Come, Butheita, what they have to say to each other does not concern us, we have done our duty, and I have performed what I promised. The Mameluke bey has also kept his promise, and my men are already on the battlefield; I, too, must speedily return, my child, for we are to bring home costly spoils."While walking with her to the tent, he tells her of the splendid caftans, the golden vessels, the jewelled daggers, and the costly arms, that he has already gathered from the field of battle.
In the mean while the two men have approached each other. Now they stand face to face, Osman Bey Bardissi, and the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, and regard each other with a long, gloomy look. Both, it seems, wish to avoid being the first to speak a word of greeting.
Finally, Osman breaks the silence. "This, Mohammed Ali, is our third meeting. The first, you will recollect, was at Cavalla. Two boys, both ambitious, addressed each other in tones of mockery and derision. In the years that have since passed, I have often thought of the boy with the eagle eyes and the haughty, contemptuous smile.
Our second meeting occurred a few months since, after the massacre at Aboukir. You were my enemy, and yet you acted as my friend. You saved Osman Bey Bardissi's life. Then I said to you: 'I will remember this, Mohammed Ali, and in me you have found a friend for all time.'""Such were your words, Osman Bey Bardissi," replied Mohammed, his voice tremulous with anger, "and now I have received a proof of your friendship! You have had me snared like a wild beast, and abducted from my camp and my soldiers, to become a laughing-stock for them and an object of derision for your people."Bardissi shook his head quietly. "You are in error, Mohammed Ali;none of my men know what has occurred, nor do I believe that yours do. No one shall ever learn, I swear it by Allah, where the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, has passed this night, or by whom he was abducted. No, no one shall ever learn it! You can rest assured, Sheik Arnhyn is not the man to babble like a woman when he should hold his peace, and Butheita is his obedient daughter. This matter shall be kept to ourselves. We meet to-day for the third time, and do you know why, Mohammed Ali? I caused you to be abducted because Ipromised you friendship. I did not wish to confront you as an enemy;against my wish a bullet might have chanced to strike you; and, Iknow not how it is, but I feel drawn to you, I feel a desire to be your friend. I wish to fight at your side, and not against you. We two, O Mohammed--we two, united--could make our land happy, great, and free, I feel assured. I read this in your countenance when we met on the ship. A voice seemed to whisper in my heart: 'He can assist you, he must be your friend!' Your eye glittered as I have seen but one other glitter; a proud consciousness of power was expressed in your features, such as I have seen in those of but one other man, and to this day I regret that he was our enemy, and that he has left us.""And who was this man?"
"He was a French general. They called him Bonaparte, and he was a great man. It seems to me you resemble him, Mohammed Ali; like him you seem to stand gazing out upon the world, conscious of power and heroism, and resolved to bring it into subjection, as he was, but could not. For, observe, this was his mistake: he assumed a hostile attitude toward the Mamelukes, instead of seeking their friendship.
And this I now hope of you, Mohammed Ali, that you will make friends of the Mamelukes, and not remain on the side of our treacherous enemies the Turks. It does not beseem you. Your soul is great, and your actions heroic! Why are you with the Turks? It does not beseem you.""It does not beseem me!" cried Mohammed excitedly; "truly it does not beseem me-""Be still, my friend, I pray you!" said Bardissi, interrupt ing him.
"Listen first to what I have to say. Do you know whence I come? Look at me! Do you see these dark spots on my clothing? 'Tis blood, Mohammed Ali, human blood. It splashed on me from many a wound! Go thither, Mohammed Ali; go to the plain of Damanhour. The bodies of the dead lie thick there--the bodies of dead Turks, Mohammed Ali!""And the bodies of many Mamelukes also, I should think," rejoined Mohammed quickly.
Osman Bey shook his head slowly. "Not many! You are in error, Mohammed Ali. We hurriedly counted them. Three thousand Turks lie dead upon the battle-field of Daman hour; of our men, of the Mamelukes, hardly sixty!""That is impossible!" cried Mohammed, in dismay.
"It seems impossible, yet it is the truth, Mohammed Ali," replied Bardissi, drawing himself up proudly. "I tell you, three thousand Turks and hardly sixty Mamelukes; and ours is the battle-field.
