A STRONG HEART.
Mohammed Ali's warning to the kachef Youssouf had not been
disregarded. In the secret vault, the entrance to which had been
confided by Mourad Bey to his wife on his deathbed, Sitta Nefysseh's
treasure now lay in security.
No one in the house knew of this vault; Sitta Nefysseh had confided
it to the kachef Youssouf only, and they two had conveyed all her
valuables to this hiding place.
When all was completed, and the Sitta had retired to her apartments,
Youssouf announced himself, and, upon being admitted, stepped humbly
forward, fell on his knees, and handed her the keys.
She looked at him in surprise. "What does this mean? What do you
bring me?"
"The keys to the vault. This one opens the inner, and the other the
outer door."
"You will keep them for me, Youssouf," said his mistress, inclining
her beautiful head.
"You confide them to me," said he, his countenance radiant with
delight. "You wish to confide to your slave the keys to your
treasure?"
"Does that surprise you?" asked she, gently. "I know I can safely
confide to the kachef of my deceased husband all that I have and
possess. You will keep the keys; and listen, Youssouf, should I die-
-"
"Die!" he exclaimed, with a cry which he found it impossible to
repress. "Die!--you, Sitta Nefysseh?"
"I am mortal, as we all are, as great Mourad was!" said she,
gravely. "If I should die, you will take these keys to Osman Bey
Bardissi, and tell him that Sitta Nefysseh sends them to him, and
that in the vault here are souvenirs for her friends. You, however,
Youssouf, I make the executor of my last will; you are to distribute
the souvenirs according to a list that I will give you."
She arose and took from a little closet in the wall a small book,
bound with gold and richly studded with diamonds.
"This book contains the names of those to whom I wish to leave a
present at my death; you will act according to the instructions
contained in it, but the book itself you will keep. My initials are
on it, set in splendid diamonds. It was given me by Bonaparte, the
general of the Franks. Keep it, and, when you read my name, think of
me!"
"Mistress, I can bear it no longer!" cried he, bursting into tears
and falling on his knees. "No, I can bear it no longer! The thought
of your dying robs me of all self-control. O mistress, be merciful,
and do not speak of your death!"
"We have already dismissed that subject," said she, smiling. "We
must be firm and brave. Youssouf must not weep like a young girl!
Dry your tears, I will not see them!"
Obedient to her command, he arose and brushed the tears from his
eyes. "Mistress, at your bidding my heart is strong again, and your
slave awaits your commands," said he, in a firm voice.
She seemed to be struggling to regain control of herself. Youssouf's
eyes rested on her in a glance of such passionate tenderness that
she felt it without seeing it.
"I have a final commission to give you," said she.
"A command, mistress! You know that your slightest is a command for
me, and would be carried out if I should die in the performance!"
"Die?" said she, with a slight start. "Now you speak of death,
Youssouf. No, you shall not die! No, thoughts of death overtake us
soon enough! Listen: I wish you to mount your horse and ride to
Osman Bey Bardissi's camp."
"Now, mistress! No, do not require this of me! " cried he,
anxiously. "You are aware an unknown friend has warned us, and said
that Sitta should hide her treasure, as danger threatened her. And
now you require Youssouf to leave you, him who promised his master,
Mourad Bey, that he would faithfully stand beside you his life long!
You cannot send me away, you will wait until the danger is past;
then will I go wherever you send me, were it to the ends of the
world! For you, Youssouf will rush into the arms of Death, but he
cannot leave you to face danger alone. No, Sitta Nefysseh, do not
require this of me!"
"I do require it of you. The message I wish to send Osman Bey is
important and secret, and I can entrust it to no one but you. Within
an hour, you will mount your horse, leave the city, and not rest
until you are with Bardissi."
"Impossible, mistress, quite impossible! Only let me remain with you
until the danger is past, then I will fly to Osman Bey, and conjure
him to come with his men to protect Sitta Nefysseh."
"Youssouf, I had always supposed you were devoted and obedient to
me," said she, in tones of displeasure. "You have sworn that you
will be my slave, although you are a free man, and may let your
beard grow. Now when I, for the first time, put your obedience to
the proof, you refuse to do what I require. Is that honoring your
mistress, is that fulfilling your oath? I repeat it, Kachef
Youssouf, you will leave my house, and repair at once to the camp of
Osman Bey Bardissi."
"That is to say, O mistress, you intend to drive me from you; you
wish to proclaim to the world that Kachef Youssouf is a faithless
coward!"
"Who dare say that?" cried she, her eyes sparkling with anger.
"Do you not suppose all the world will point their fingers at me
when I return? 'When danger threatened, he deserted his mistress,' I
already hear them say; 'he saved himself, and left her to face the
danger alone.'"
"If any one should dare to speak thus, I should say, it was I who
sent you away. Go, now, Kachef Youssouf. Too many words have already
passed between us; it is time you obeyed my command."
"Well, then, mistress, you command me to go, and I will go. What do
you care, though you inflict profound anguish on a faithful servant,
though his heart break? What do you care, though my whole future be
made miserable? Like a heavenly vision, you float high above all
human anguish and torment; they do not touch your heart. Your heart,
O mistress, is luminous like the diamond, but also cold and hard
like the diamond."
"Youssouf!" cried she, in tones that made his heart leap--"Youssouf,
you accuse me of being hard and cold!"
For a moment a wondrous brilliancy shone in her eyes, then she
suddenly drew back from Youssouf, who stood there, motionless, in a
state of ecstasy. He stood gazing at her, entranced, seeming to hear
and see nothing. Not far from him, her face turned away, Sitta
Nefysseh stood still. He distinctly heard her hurried breathing, and
something like a low sob escape her breast. He listened to it as to
mysterious and wondrously sweet music.
Suddenly, she turned around, and advanced toward him with head erect
and proud bearing. "Kachef Youssouf, you have excited my indignation
by your unmerited reproaches! No one can say that Mourad Bey's widow
has a cold, hard heart. Mourad Bey knew otherwise; he knew that I
loved him; and if I have seemed, since his death, to have a cold,
hard heart, it is only because I have remained true to his memory.
Consider this, and do not dare to reproach me. Now go, and hasten
with my message to Bardissi!"
"I am going, mistress," said he, sadly. "But, when I have executed
your command, then I may return to my mistress with what speed my
horse can bear me, may I not?"
She remained silent, and let her eyelids, with their long, black
lashes, sink down over her beautiful eyes. It seemed to him that a
sigh escaped her breast.
"No," said she, in a low voice.
"No?" shrieked, rather than cried, Youssouf. "I may not return!"
"You may not return, Kachef Youssouf. I have long recognized that it
ill became a young man to pass his days here in ease and quiet,
while his friends, his brothers, are confronting the enemy on the
battlefield. You said it would disgrace Youssouf if he left his
mistress in danger; but it seems to me that the disgrace is much
greater when a youth, born perhaps to become a hero, spends his days
in inglorious ease, reclining on soft cushions. Consider that Mourad
Bey never laid aside his sword. Remember that, when the trumpet
sounded, he was ever the first to the field. He would have
considered him his enemy who should have said to him: 'Remain at
home, and repose on your cushions while your brethren are facing
death for the fatherland!' I think you should endeavor to follow his
example. You must follow his example! Kachef Youssouf, I will tell
you what is written in the letter you are to take to Osman Bey. I
announce to him that I send the truest and bravest of all kachefs,
and I beg him to take you to battle with him. I announce to him that
I give him for the fatherland, and the most faithful friend I have,
and beg him to place you at the starting-point, from which you are
to run your race as a hero."
"Oh, bitterness and anguish!" cried Youssouf, in tones of despair.
"She drives me from her like a miserable dog whom she will not
tolerate on the threshold of her door."
"No, Youssouf," replied Sitta Nefysseh, sadly. "No! His mistress
only points out to Youssouf the road he must pursue in order to
become one day a hero, and the first and foremost of all the
Mameluke beys. There is a higher bliss than domestic happiness, and
that is the pursuit of glory. Let glory be your aim. You shall be
called a hero, and the scha-er shall proclaim your deeds to the
listening people. And this, O Youssouf," she added in lower tones,
"this is my consolation in parting with you--you," she quickly
resumed, as if feeling that there had been something in the tone of
her voice that required an explanation, "you whom I esteem as my
husband's devoted friend! And now go, Youssouf, and let this be my
farewell greeting! Think of me when you go out to battle, think that
your glory is my pride!"
"I am going," said he, in a choking voice. "I am going, and to die,
Sitta Nefysseh!"
"To die? No, Youssouf," cried she. "No, not to die."
"I must, for you drive me from you; you send me to confront the
death-dealing bullets. Do not think that it is base fear that drives
me to despair. When going with my master to battle, I have never
known fear. I am going away to die; I shall seek the enemy's bullets
in the hope that they graciously relieve me of my miserable
existence."
"Youssouf," cried she, in tones of such pride and dignity that he
started--" Youssouf, I had supposed until now that I was your
mistress."
"Yes, you were my mistress until this hour; but now you drive me
from you!" cried he in anguish.
"No; wherever you may be you are mine, and must obey me. You are a
free man, and yet I hold you in bonds. In virtue of these bonds I
command you not to seek death, but to seek renown. You are to
return, a Mameluke bey. Thus must he return; thus must Sitta
Nefysseh see him appear on her threshold, and then--And now," she
quickly interrupted herself, "have you heard your mistress's
command? You will not seek death? You swear to me that you will
fight like a true soldier for fatherland and glory, and that you
will not seek death? The brave do not fear death, neither do they
seek it. The despairing seek death, and thereby invoke upon
themselves the curse of Allah for all time. Swear to me that you
will fight like a hero, and yet hold your life sacred. I, Sitta
Nefysseh, your mistress, command you to do so!"
"And I will obey my mistress's command! I swear that I will struggle
against my despair. I swear that I will live, to do your bidding
now, and to return to hear from your lips, perhaps, a kindly word of
approval. You shall be pleased with me. I will fight as beseems your
servant. O Sitta Nefysseh, you are not cruel in sending me away; you
are only wise and thoughtful, not cold and hard of heart, are you?
You view the world with composure and wisdom. You find that Kachef
Youssouf should no longer remain here in ease and inactivity, and
you send him from you for his own sake. This is kind and noble on
your part, and I should thank you for sending me away to perform
deeds of valor, and return a Mameluke bey. This is magnanimous of
you, and it was only my miserable weakness that prevented me from
recognizing it, and sent foolish tears to my eyes."
He covered his face with his hands, and his head fell upon his
breast. Sitta Nefysseh gazed at him intently; he did not see the
expression of anguish that rested on her features. When he removed
his hands from his face, she had averted her gaze, and her
countenance was composed.
"Forgive me, mistress," said he, "I was a fool once more; I thought
of the past, and wept over it. But I am now reconciled, and ready to
go. I will do as you say; I will not seek death, but I will thank
Allah if he allows it to find me. Farewell, mistress!" He fell on
his knees and kissed the hem of her dress. He then stood up and
rushed out of the room without looking at her again.
Sitta Nefysseh looked after him with outstretched arms, and the
flood of tears which she had so long restrained burst from her eyes.
"I love him, O Allah! Thou knowest that I love him! Let him return a
hero covered with glory, and then, O Allah, graciously grant that I
may be able to reward him for all his love, and for all the pain I
have caused him! Let Kachef Youssouf return as Youssouf the Mameluke
bey, and I shall be blessed; as the master of my life will I accept
him, for I love him."
A horse's hoofs ring out against the pavement of the court-yard
without. A cry resounds from her lips, and she sinks down. "O Allah,
watch over him! Let him return! I love him--I love him so dearly!"