PERSECUTION.
An hour had scarcely elapsed since Youssouf's departure when two of
her maids rushed into Sitta Nefysseh's presence with anxious looks.
She lay on the divan, her countenance entirely concealed, to hide
her tear-stained features. She remained still, endeavoring to
recover her composure. The women came nearer.
"Mistress, some one is here who wishes to speak with Sitta
Nefysseh."
"Well, what is it that alarms you so?" said she, raising her head
slightly, and looking at them. "Who is it that wishes to speak with
me?"
"O mistress," murmured one of them, "it is the cadi with four of the
police."
Sitta Nefysseh sprang to her feet.
"What say you? The chief of the police dares to enter my house! What
does he want ?"
"He says he comes at the instance of his highness the viceroy."
"If that is the case," said Sitta Nefysseh, quietly, "let him
enter." One of the women opened the door, and the cadi, the chief of
police, appeared on the threshold; behind him stood four policement
with pistols and daggers in their belts, their hands on their
swords.
"Were my women right? " asked Sitta Nefysseh, with dignity. "You
come in the name of his highness the viceroy?"
"Yes," replied the cadi, with a slight bow. "Yes, I come in his
highness's name. The viceroy commands that Mourad Bey's widow
accompany me at once to his presence, to the citadel."
"And with what right?" asked she quietly.
"I know not and care not," said the official, with an air of
indifference; "here is the order." He drew from his pocket a
document, to which large seals were appended, and handed it to her.
Sitta Nefysseh looked at it, and returned it with perfect composure.
"You are right, it is the viceroy's order. I will obey. Order the
carriage to be driven to the door."
She said this in such imperious tones that the cadi, at other times
a proud man, and a high dignitary of the viceroy's court, could not
but obey her, and stepped out and delivered her command to one of
his officers. He then returned to Sitta Nefysseh.
"I have orders to leave a guard in your house," said he.
"Then do so," said she, quietly. "The viceroy is master over us all,
and it seems there is no law here in Cairo but his will. Obey him,
therefore. Leave a guard in my house."
He seemed not to notice the mockery in her words, and bowed in
silence.
"No one may enter or leave your house during your absence."
"Why do you say this to me? Say it to those who may desire to leave
it after I have gone, and who may be alarmed. I am not alarmed; my
conscience does not accuse me. My carriage is ready--let us go. I
trust, however, that the viceroy does not require me to appear
before him alone; it is becoming that Mourad's Bey's widow should be
accompanied by her women when she goes out."
"I am not instructed to refuse such a request; yet, there must not
be more of them than your carriage will contain."
"Two of my servants will accompany me," said she. Without once
looking back into the room, or manifesting any fear or anxiety
whatever, she stepped out into the vestibule, and, beckoning to two
of the weeping women who had assembled about her, commanded them to
follow her. "You others need fear nothing," said she with perfect
composure. "The cadi leaves his guards here to protect you, against
whom I know not, but certainly against someone." Taking leave of her
servants with a kindly nod, and drawing her veil more closely about
her, she walked proudly out into the court-yard to the carriage.
Almost ashamed of his errand, the cadi followed and assisted her in
entering the carriage, closing the door after her. The carriage
drove off rapidly, accompanied by the cadi and his officers, while
another body of men remained in charge of the house.
Sitta Nefysseh leaned back against the cushions while the carriage
rolled through the streets, her thoughts far distant from her
present surroundings.
"I thank thee, Allah, that he is saved!" she murmured to herself. "I
thank thee! He would have been excited to ungovernable wrath, and he
would have been punished and imprisoned as a rebel. I have saved
him! What have I now to fear? Let the worst befall, provided only
that he be safe!"
The carriage moved slowly up the Muskj Street, through dense crowds
of people. It was market day, and the street was thronged with
people, who complained so loudly of the intruding carriage and
horsemen that Sitta Nefysseh, aroused from her meditations, leaned
forward and drew the window curtains aside. The people, who in their
wrath had not observed that the cadi and his officers constituted
the escort of the carriage, now became silent as they saw the woman
at the window, and peered in with curiosity.
Sitta Nefysseh raised her veil and displayed her countenance to the
multitude. "It is Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's widow!" resounded in
the street. The cry was repeated until the gaze of all became fixed
on the carriage in astonishment. "What does it mean?"
Buying and selling were no longer thought of. The people followed
the carriage, which moved slowly through the crowded street toward
the viceroy's citadel, in dense masses. It was in vain that the cadi
ordered them to disperse; in vain that the officers threatened them
with drawn swords. They only pressed on in denser masses, increased
by the people who came Rocking from their houses to see Mourad Bey's
widow, who sat tranquilly in the carriage with her two women. Their
destination was at last reached, and the gates of the citadel closed
behind them. The people who had accompanied the carriage remained
without, yelling and shrieking: "Sitta Nefysseh is imprisoned--let
us liberate her!"
Sitta Nefysseh had left her carriage, and was now following the
cadi, who walked in advance. Behind her came the two women, followed
by the officers. Thus the procession moved in profound silence up
the broad stairway and into the grand reception saloon.
"Be kind enough to wait here a moment," said the cadi.
He walked into the neat apartment. Sitta Nefysseh, who had again
covered her face with her veil, stood proudly erect in the midst of
the saloon. The two weeping women stepped nearer to their mistress,
and asked if danger threatened her, and begged to be permitted to
accompany her everywhere.
"Be still!" said Sitta, in low tones. "Shed no tears. These men must
not have the satisfaction of seeing us appear cowardly and weak."
The cadi now returned and stood at the threshold, holding the velvet
curtain aside.
"Be kind enough to enter, Sitta Nefysseh."
"Not alone. My women will accompany me."
"No, they are to remain here. You alone are to enter. The women will
await your return here."
Sitta Nefysseh walked proudly into the next apartment. The curtain
fell back behind her. Cousrouf, who lay stretched out on his silken
cushions, smoking his chibouque, looked up at her through the clouds
of smoke that enveloped him as she entered the room. She looked at
him composedly, and remained standing at the door with so proud and
dignified a bearing, such majesty in her whole appearance, that
Cousrouf's insolence could not but succumb. He arose and advanced to
meet her.
"I salute you, Sitta Nefysseh, widow of Mourad Bey!"
"I do not return your salutation. I have been conducted here from my
house in an insulting manner, and I am now surprised to find that
his highness seems only to have had me brought here in order to
salute me."
"I did not call you in order to salute you, but for an entirely
different purpose," replied Cousrouf. "Seat yourself on the ottoman
beside me, and let us converse."
"Converse, highness? Friends and confidants sit down to converse
with each other, but unfortunately we are neither," replied she,
composedly, as she seated herself on the ottoman with the dignity of
a princess. Cousrouf remaining standing, Sitta Nefysseh raised her
hand and pointed to the divan. "To the viceroy belongs the seat of
honor. I beg your highness to take that seat."
He bowed slightly, and took the seat assigned him.
"I wished to beg Sitta Nefysseh's permission to seat myself at her
side,to converse with her as a friend. You do not desire it,
however--you wish to see in me the prince only. Let it be so. I am
only the viceroy, and I have summoned you to appear before me."
"Summoned, you call it?" cried she, passionately. "I call it being
dragged here in a disgraceful manner!"
"Compose yourself, Sitta Nefysseh; let us converse calmly. I have
grave reproaches to make."
"Against me?" asked she, in astonishment.
"Yes, serious, grave reproaches! You are of the opinion, are you
not, that every mistress is responsible for the actions of her
servants?"
"I am, because, if one has bad and faithless servants, he should
discharge them. Yes, it seems to me a master is responsible for his
servants' actions."
"And therefore, have I summoned you to this audience. Do you know
what your kachef Youssouf has done?"
Sitta Nefysseh trembled. It was fortunate that her veil concealed
her features, and that Cousrouf could not see the deathly pallor
that overspread her cheeks.
"My kachef?" said she, with forced composure. "Of what is he
accused?"
"He is accused of attempting to bribe my soldiers, and incite them
to revolt and treason."
"That is not true!" exclaimed she, passionately. "That is a
falsehood, and I tell you so to your face! My words are true. My
kachef has never done such things; he is incapable of inciting any
one to a breach of faith or to treason. He is the truest and best of
my servants."
"And yet it is true. Your kachef has incited my soldiers to treason.
The viceroy says it is true!" cried Cousrouf. "Youssouf attempted to
corrupt one of my own soldiers, an Armenian, urging him to go over
to Osman Bardissi. When the soldier refused, he promised to give him
the same pay he now receives from me."
"Highness, that is not true, I swear it is not!"
"Here is the proof!" answered Cousrouf, rising to his feet and
taking from the table a paper, which he unfolded. "Here is the
proof! Here it is, plainly written in his own handwriting! Herein
your kachef Youssouf promises my soldier, Sadok Aga, to give him his
whole pay, and even double the amount, if he will undertake to ride
to Bardissi's camp and convey a letter to the bey. Here it is in his
own handwriting, and signed by him."
"Highness, I beg you to let me see the writing," said Nefysseh,
extending her hand to take the paper. "Let me see it; I can read."
Cousrouf did not comply with her request. He folded the paper, and
laid it on the table again.
"It is unnecessary that you should read it. I insist that your
kachef endeavors to corrupt my soldiers and induce them to desert to
Bardissi's camp. This is clearly treason. As you yourself admit that
a mistress is responsible for her servant's actions, I declare and
shall hold you, Sitta Nefysseh, responsible for your servant's
crime."
"That you cannot do, highness! Youssouf is no longer my servant, is
no longer in my house. I have discharged him, not because I thought
ill of him, not because I desired to punish him, but because I
esteem him, because I know he was created for something better than
to be only the servant of a woman. I discharged him because his
courage and nobility of soul urged him to draw the sword and go out
to battle. He has gone to Bardissi's camp to serve in the ranks of
his Mamelukes."
"That is to say," cried Cousrouf, in angry tones--"that is to say,
Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's widow raises soldiers in her house for
the army of our enemy!"
"Could your highness expect Mourad Bey's--the Mameluke chieftain's--
widow to raise soldiers for the enemies of her deceased husband?"
asked she, throwing her head back proudly. "Yet let me remark this:
my expression was badly chosen. Sitta Nefysseh does not occupy
herself with raising soldiers. Youssouf was brought up by my
husband, and has remained in my house these few years since his
death. He had grown weary of the effeminate life he was leading, and
begged to be discharged from my service. I did as he requested. I am
not his mother, not his sister, and not his relative. He is a
freeman, and puts his freedom to the best use. But I tell you that
he is not guilty of the charge you make against him--he never wrote
that paper. And do you know why not, Cousrouf? Because he does not
know how to write. He is a warrior, and only knows how to write
indelible characters on the faces of his enemies with his sword;
and, believe me, I should recognize these characters if they were
inscribed on your face--I should recognize the handwriting of my
kachef; but the characters on that paper are not his."
"Truly, Sitta Nefysseh, your audacity is great!" cried Cousrouf.
"But, it seems to me, yours is far greater; forgive me for saying
so, highness. Man and woman we stand before each other, and you have
publicly branded the woman, who is conscious of no shame, with
disgrace."
"How can you make such a charge against me? What is it that I have
done? You yourself acknowledge that the master is justly responsible
for his servants' actions, and I repeat it: your kachef has
endeavored to draw my soldiers from their allegiance, to corrupt
them. I have accused you of nothing else."
"Yes, you have more than accused me of other crimes!" cried she,
throwing back her veil, her eyes sparkling with indignation. "Look
at me! In me, you have put the woman, put Mourad Bey's widow to
shame. You have caused me to be brought from my house by policemen.
That is to say, you have insulted, in me, womanly virtue and honor!"
"How so?" asked Cousrouf, in astonishment.
"Do you know so little of the customs of our land? You, the Viceroy
of Egypt, do not know that, when women are led through the street by
the police, it is equivalent to branding them as lost to all shame;
that they are delivered over to the police to be punished by being
conducted through the public streets, to the disgrace of their
entire sex!"
"You go too far," replied the viceroy. "I did cause you to be
conducted here. I sent to you one of the first dignitaries of my
court, the cadi; I did this to honor you. To be thus conducted by
the cadi through the street is not disgraceful, as in the case of
the women you speak of. In your own carriage you were escorted by
the cadi and his servants, and your good name and honor, which I
respect in common with all the world, cannot have suffered thereby.
Yet your conduct has been culpable, you are responsible for your
kachef's deeds; and through him I accuse you of treason, and you,
Nefysseh, must suffer for your servant's crime."
"Then, take my life, if that will benefit you," said she, quietly.
"I have nothing to give you but that. If you take my life, you will
be accused of murder, and, believe, this accusation will be heard by
all Cairo. I have nothing more to say. Deal with me as you think
proper."
"You challenge my enmity, you shall have it! It were wise on your
part to beg me to pardon Youssouf, to withdraw the accusation, and
to declare yourself ready to pay the required sum to my soldiers."
"Where is Mourad Bey's widow to obtain the money? Your men have
remained in my house, let them search for treasure there. Let them
take what they find. Mourad's widow is poor, and your endeavor is
vain. You will find nothing of value in my house; long wars have
made Mourad's widow poor. And, if I had money, I would rather cast
it into the Nile, than to give it to the enemies of my husband!--Now
I have spoken and relieved my heart. Now do with me as you think
proper, Cousrouf. This I will, however, repeat, my kachef Youssouf
did not write the characters on that paper. He is not capable of
corrupting men from their allegiance. Do you desire my life? If so,
take it! But if you venture to do so, prepare yourself to meet all
Cairo in insurrection. Allah is just! You will then see all Cairo,
held by you in fetters until now, rise up and burst its bonds, and
shake its mane in lion-like wrath."
"We shall see if our lion really rises in its wrath, when I, as I am
in duty bound, do justice to those who have done wrong and committed
crimes!"
He arose from his divan, stepped to the door, and called one of his
servants. In answer to his call, a servant hastened into the room.
"Conduct Sitta Nefysseh to the house of Sheik Hesseyni, who lives in
the old citadel; tell him to guard her well, and not to allow any
one to see her."
"Tell him, cadi," said Nefysseh, quietly, "tell him to guard me as
every jailor guards his prisoner; that is the true meaning of the
viceroy's words. Farewell, Cousrouf--I am going to my prison! May
your conscience reproach you as little as mine does me! Farewell!"
She drew her veil over her countenance, and slowly left the
apartment. At the door sat her two women weeping and sobbing. She
commanded them to follow her, and walked on as composedly as if she
were the princess of this palace. She swept down the marble stairway
to her carriage, as if about to take a drive.
"Sitta Nefysseh, it will not be necessary to enter your carriage,"
said the cadi, who had followed her. "We shall only have to pass
through that little side-door to be in the sheik's house."
"Ah, you desire to prevent the people, who are calling so loudly
after me, from seeing me in my degradation, or rather the
degradation of those who tread law and propriety under foot in their
treatment of me."
"Sitta Nefysseh, I know nothing of the charges made against you,"
replied the cadi, gruffly. "I obey the orders of the viceroy; the
rest does not concern me."
"That is certainly the most convenient course," said she,
derisively, and quietly submitting when he took hold of her arm and
led her across the court to the little gate in the wall. The women
followed her. Their tears no longer flowed, and they seemed to
consider themselves happy in being at least allowed to accompany
their mistress.
Dense masses of people still stood without. They called loudly for
Sitta Nefysseh, swearing by Allah that they would not leave until
she should be released. But what can the poor, defenceless people do
when confronted by armed soldiers, ready to fire destructive volleys
among them? What can they do but sullenly retire under such
circumstances? This they now did. About the citadel quiet now
reigned, but the streets below were still thronged with dense
crowds, from out whose midst the cries continually resounded: "Sitta
Nefysseh has been arrested! She has been shamefully conducted
through the streets to the citadel by the police! She has been
publicly insulted! She, the noblest of women, is accused of a great
crime!"
When night came, the excitement and fury of the populace had not yet
subsided. Early on the morning of the following day, dense masses of
people surged to the house where Hesseyni, the chief sheik of the
city, resided, and demanded with loud clamors that he should
liberate Sitta Nefysseh.
The sheik had given serious consideration to this difficult and
embarrassing case, and, before the people forced an entrance, had
already determined to comply with their demands.
In solemn procession, their green turbans on their heads, and
enveloped in their long flowing caftans, with their costly ermine
collars, the entire body of sheiks repaired on foot to the palace.
With grave and solemn bearing, these representatives of public
justice demanded that they should be conducted to the viceroy's
presence.
He received them in his apartment, advancing to meet them with a
kindly greeting.
"What do you desire, friends? You know I am always glad to hear the
wishes of the people as pronounced by you, their representatives."
"Then listen to these wishes, highness!" said one of the sheiks.
"The people, and we with them, desire that Sitta Nefysseh, who was
yesterday forcibly taken from her house, be permitted to return to
the same. Her house has been shamefully ill-used, Cousrouf Pacha!
Your police have treated it like the house of an enemy. Nothing has
remained in its place; every thing is overturned and thrown about.
They were looking for treasure, highness, and they found nothing.
Sitta Nefysseh was considered rich, and that was perhaps her crime;
or will your highness be kind enough to inform us if Sitta Nefysseh
is accused of any other crime!"
"She is," replied Cousrouf. "She is accused of the most shameful of
all crimes. Her kachef attempted to corrupt one of my soldiers,
offering him double pay if he would desert to the army of the
rebellious Mamelukes."
"Is that proven, highness ?" asked the sheik.
"It is proven! I possess written proof of the fact. Here it is; read
it for yourselves. This attempt has excited the just wrath of my
good soldiers. Believe it was in order to protect Sitta Nefysseh
from the fury of my soldiers that I called her here. I repeat it,
Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's widow, has endeavored to corrupt, and
has offered my soldiers double pay. She is now in my power, and I
will punish her; yet, I will be merciful on your account. Let her do
as she offered--let her give my soldiers their pay, and her offence
shall be overlooked this time."
"That would be a punishment not prescribed by law," replied the
sheik, quietly. "If Sitta Nefysseh is really guilty of the crime of
which you accuse her, she is indeed very culpable, highness; but she
can not atone for it with money. Her guilt must, however, be proven;
and it devolves upon us, the representatives of public justice, to
consider and determine whether Sitta Nefysseh is guilty or not."
"Does not my word suffice?" cried Cousrouf, passionately. "I tell
you that she is guilty, that I have proof of her guilt, and I
declare that this suffices. I repeat what I have said, if she pays
my soldiers she is free."
"That does not suffice!" replied the sheik. "We must first know
whether Sitta Nefysseh confesses herself guilty. In accordance with
the law and with your permission, highness, let two of the sheiks go
to Sitta Nefysseh and ask her if she confesses herself guilty; and,
further, what she has to say in her defence. This is just, and this
must be done."
"Do as you say. Go to her. But her own declaration of her innocence
will not suffice for me. She must have as much proof of her
innocence as I have of her guilt. Go to Sitta Nefysseh. You will
find her in the house of Sheik Hesseyni."
With a profound bow the sheiks withdrew from the viceroy's apartment
and repaired to the house of Sheik Hesseyni.
Sitta Nefysseh greeted the cadis and sheiks with profound deference
and perfect composure.
"I see," said she, gently, "you believe in my innocence, and know
that Sitta Nefysseh is guilty of no crime, and has been unjustly
covered with shame."
"We well know that you have committed no crime," said the sheik.
"The viceroy, however, accuses you of having attempted to corrupt
his soldiers through your kachef; tell us, is this true?"
"You well know that it is not true! Why should I do it, and how
could I be so foolish as to attempt such a thing? I give you my
word, I swear by the memory of Mourad Bey, I am innocent of the
crime of which I am accused. I have not attempted to corrupt the
soldiers of Cousrouf Pacha, nor have I authorized my kachef to do
so. Believe me, I speak the truth. But, tell me, was that all the
viceroy said? I think I see through his plans, and understand this
accusation. Did he not name the punishment he intended to inflict on
me?"
"He did. You are to he set at liberty as soon as you pay his
soldiers--what he maintains you promised--their double pay."
"Is it not as I said?" cried she, in derisive tones. "Cousrouf Pacha
wants money! He has heard stories of my wealth, and believes me
rich; and now, relying on a woman's timidity, he endeavors to extort
money from me. He wants money, and therefore makes this shameful
charge. Go, I beg you, to the viceroy, and tell him Mourad's widow
is poor, and has nothing with which to appease his rapacity. Let him
take my life if he will. I am innocent, and if be causes me to be
put to death, I shall charge him with murder at Allah's footstool! I
have nothing else to give him. Let him deal with me as he thinks
proper."
"We will tell him all you say, for you are in the right, Sitta
Nefysseh," replied the sheik. " And if you possessed all the wealth
of Egypt, with the millions that lie buried in its deserts, you
would be justified in secreting them from the tyranny and fraud that
seek to extort from you your property. We will therefore defend you
to the best of our ability.--Come, sheiks, let us return to the
viceroy."
They repaired to the citadel, and told the viceroy what had passed.
"She is really poor, highness," said the cadi. "She declares her
innocence. She does not possess the treasure you speak of, and
therefore she can not comply with your demands. Her house has been
searched through, and, as you are aware, nothing has been found."
"No, nothing has been found," said the viceroy to himself, stepping,
back and walking thoughtfully to and fro. "A fearful thought occurs
to me! Mohammed Ali may have advised me to take this step with an
evil purpose, seeking my destruction. He hates me in his heart! I
was a fool to allow myself to be persuaded to stretch out my hand
after this woman's wealth. But I will be avenged on Mohammed!
However, having once embarked in this undertaking, I will at least
endeavor to withdraw from it creditably. I must give myself the
appearance of still believing in Sitta Nefysseh's guilt."
He turned to the sheiks, who were awaiting his decision in
respectful silence. In haughty terms he declined to admit that he
had been deceived, and that Sitta Nefysseh was innocent.
"The accused must be punished! " cried Cousrouf, in loud and
threatening tones.
The cadi drew himself up and gazed firmly at the viceroy.
"Highness, our patience is now at an end. We have sought to obtain
justice by peaceful entreaties. You refuse it, and your refusal is
an insult to us, the servants of our holy religion, and the
representatives of the people. Here, we have therefore nothing more
to say or to do. Nothing is left us but to depart and repair to the
mosque of El-Azar, where the head of the martyr Sel-Kosyn is buried.
There we will gather the people about us and decide as justice shall
require.--Come, ye sheiks, let us go to the mosque!"
"Do so!" cried Cousrouf, haughtily. "But, let me tell you this: if
you excite the people to revolt, my cannon shall thunder among you!
You will be responsible for the consequences."
They made no reply, but turned and left the apartment.