THE RETURN TO CAIRO.
Joy and exultation reign in Cairo. The united forces of the
Mamelukes, Albanians, and Armenians, have returned home crowned with
victory. Damietta and Rosetta have fallen, and the Turks have
everywhere retreated; a miserable remnant only have found safety in
Alexandria, where Courschid Pacha rules.
The people throng the streets to witness the grand entrance of the
victorious troops.
There, at the head of four thousand Mamelukes, surrounded by a body
of beys and kachefs, comes Osman Bey Bardissi, the hero of so many
battles. How sparkling his eyes, how radiant the smile with which he
greets the populace that hails him with shouts of enthusiasm!
He passes by, and now come the Albanians and Armenians. At their
head rides the sarechsme, Mohammed Ali; around him his bim bashis,
in their glittering uniforms. But who is it that rides beside him on
the splendidly-caparisoned ass--who is the man in the long green
caftan, trimmed with fur, the green turban on his head adorned with
its glittering crescent? He is unarmed, and yet he rides beside the
sarechsme. His countenance is pale, and his lips are firmly
compressed, as if to keep back a cry of rage that struggles for
utterance. Who is this man? Can it be Cousrouf Pacha? Yes, it is he,
the viceroy, the prisoner given to Mohammed Ali by Bardissi. In his
magnanimity Mohammed had grasped Bardissi's arm, uplifted for the
deadly stroke, and had thus saved his enemy's life. And now he
generously allows the man whose life he has saved to ride into Cairo
at his side. The people relate this to each other, and are loud in
their praises of the sarechsme's magnanimity.
Was it magnanimity? Ask Cousrouf, who feels that the favor shown him
by his enemy is worse than death, who feels with anguish that he is
merely an object of contempt, while the air resounds with the
people's enthusiastic greeting to the accursed Mohammed Ali. Him the
people had never saluted thus; upon his head the sheiks and cadis
had never invoked Allah's blessing.
Now the citadel looms up before them; the sarechsme's countenance is
radiant; smilingly he turns to Cousrouf.
"I take pleasure, highness, in conducting you to the citadel. You
fled in the darkness of night; I conduct you back in the broad light
of day, and wish you a pleasant sojourn in your palace. I regret,
however, that you are not to reside there entirely alone. The great
Mameluke Bey, Ismail, now resides there, and but few apartments
remain unoccupied. With these few you will therefore have to content
yourself."
"I should be contented with the smallest room, though it lay beneath
the earth, could I be spared your presence, traitor! " mutters
Cousrouf.
"Spared my presence!" cries Mohammed Ali. "Consider, highness, that
I alone am to amuse and entertain you. With me alone can you
converse, and recall fond recollections of the past, and I shall
therefore not fail to wait on your highness right often. And now,
highness, ride in advance and enter the palace first, as the master
should."
He draws rein as they reach the gateway, and gives the ass on which
Cousrouf is mounted a blow with the flat of his sword, that causes
it to rush into the court-yard with a succession of quick bounds.
The soldiers standing around laugh loudly. And this laughter makes
Cousrouf's cheeks red with shame, and sends tears to his eyes, tears
of rage.
Several of Ismail Bey's Mamelukes now approach, and lift Cousrouf
from the saddle and lead him into the house. Mohammed seems to have
forgotten him; let Ismail Bey take care of him. To him Mohammed
intrusts the keeping of his prisoner.
"He belongs to me, Ismail, to me alone; I only intrust my prisoner
to you for safe keeping."
He is conducted to the upper chambers of the citadel; there let his
thoughts prey on the memory of her he murdered, and of him who
avenges her!
The houses of Cairo are adorned with carpets and flowers, and
laughter and merry-making are the order of the day.
The house of Mourad's widow also shows signs of life with-in, to-
day. Sitta Nefysseh has returned to her home after a long sojourn in
the house of Sheik Sadat. The doors of her house and the park-gate
are again thrown open. Sitta Nefysseh is at home; she sits behind
the golden lattice-work of her window and gazes out into the street.
Why does her heart throb so wildly? Is Sitta Nefysseh awaiting any
one?
A long array of richly-attired officers passes by. Sitta Nefysseh
gazes at them intently, her heart still throbbing wildly. Suddenly
she utters a low cry, and with closed eyes reels back from the
window. It is he--yes, she has seen him, the young Mameluke bey,
galloping toward her house on his proud steed, followed by a body of
Mamelukes. She hears him stop before the door, and she knows that he
is coming.
Her countenance radiant with delight, she stands with outstretched
arms, as she had stood when she last saw him, and, as then, she
whispers: "I love him! oh, I love him! My soul yearns for him! I
would clasp him in my arms, and yet--no, it may not be! "murmurs
she, interrupting herself and letting her arms sink down to her
side. "No, it may not, cannot be! They would kill him! If Bardissi
did not, L'Elfi would! And then my oath! O Mourad, be with me in
this hour, that I may remain firm! Be strong, my heart! It may not
be!"
The door opened, and a slave entered to announce that the Mameluke
bey, Youssouf, was waiting at the door with his suite, and humbly
begged that he might be permitted to see Sitta Nefysseh.
"Let him enter," said she, making an effort to compose herself."
Tell my women to go into the adjoining room, and to open the door."
Poor woman's heart! So strong in love, and yet so weak! These women
and the open door were to stand guard over her heart, and keep her
from forgetting all else in his presence.
Now the door opens and Youssouf enters. It seems to her that he has
grown taller. His deeds have elevated him, and his countenance is
radiant with energy and courage. Yet he kneels down before her, and
kisses the hem of her robe.
"Sitta Nefysseh, you bade me go, and I went. Upon my return, my
first thoughts were of you. I wished to hear from your sweet lips
the word welcome! Do you speak it, Sitta Nefysseh?"
"Welcome, Youssouf Bey! How beautiful that sounds--Youssouf Bey! But
rise, it does not become the hero to bend the knee before a woman,
before Nefyeseh."
"I was your slave when I went, now that I have returned I am your
slave still. And thus should he salute his mistress."
He bends down. lower and kisses the gold-embroidered slipper that
clasps her little foot.
"Youssouf!" she cried, in severe tones, "I command you to rise from
your knees!"
"You see, I obey you, as it beseems your slave to do," said he,
springing to his feet; "and he now begs to be permitted to enter
your service again."
"My service?" said she, with an air of astonishment. "Mourad's widow
is not so proud and not of such high rank as to desire to have a
troop of Mamelukes in her service. You know I liberated all my
Mamelukes at my husband's death; and how could I, who have so few
servants about me, dare to take a Mameluke bey into my service? No,
such honor were too great for me. You, Youssouf Bey, must go out
into the world again. You will still accomplish many great deeds,
and do me honor. For, when your deeds are spoken of, people will
say: 'He was once a Mameluke with Mourad Bey, and afterward the
kachef of Sitta Nefysseh. It was in Mourad's house that he grew up
and became a hero.' That suffices for me, and Sitta Nefysseh will
rejoice in your renown."
"Sitta Nefysseh!" cried he, in tones of anguish, "you drive me from
you! I have done as you commanded. I went out to battle and did not
seek death, because you had forbidden me to do so, but fought like a
lion, and earned a name. Now that I have returned, you refuse to
give me the one reward I desire. While the bullets whistled about
me, amid the din of battle, I thought only of Sitta Nefysseh, who
would bid me welcome when I returned home, and restore to me my
place in her house. This was the only reward I sought. And now you
drive me from you!"
She had listened to him in breathless suspense. It was bliss to hear
his words, yet her countenance must not betray her. She slowly
raised her eyes, and then gazed at him, long and fixedly.
"Youssouf Bey," said she, "you cannot remain with me, and though it
may seem hard to you to-day, to-morrow you will confess that it is
impossible. Youssouf Bey was not created for such purposes. He is a
hero! Without, your men await you. Return to them. Those who imagine
that peace has entered the city with you are in error. There are
still many laurels to be earned by Youssouf Bey on the battlefield.
Go and gather them!"
"They have no charms for me; I desire only to look on you, to love
you, Sitta Nefysseh! To remain with you and dream of bliss, and
perhaps--"
"Be still!" cried she, interrupting him. "Do you wish my women to
hear what your folly dictates? Mourad's widow commands you to be
silent. Now you have terminated our interview. Go, join your men!"
"Forgive me, Sitta, forgive me! By Allah, I entreat you, do not deal
so severely with your poor Youssouf! You are lustrous, yet also cold
like the diamond! You know no mercy; for, alas, you know not love!
Yet, I conjure you, be merciful; do not drive me from you; and I
swear that I will speak no more of love, but only serve you as your
faithful slave!"
"Let us terminate this interview," said she, in a low voice. "I
shall remain convinced that you should not stay in my house, and you
will therefore go."
"I must go!" cried he, in despairing tones, "yet others may approach
you! The great Bardissi will be welcome, and L'Elfi may also come.
They may speak to you of their love and adoration, but me you
command to depart!"
"No, Youssouf," cried she, "to them I shall say, depart also! I
swear by Allah and by my--"
She stopped, she had almost pronounced the word that trembled on her
lips. "By my love," she had almost said, yet, with quick command of
herself, she added:
"By my honor, Bardissi and L'Elfi shall visit me no more! From this
day the doors of my house are closed against all men; this I swear
to you, Youssouf!"
"I cannot thank you for doing so," said Youssouf, sadly. "If no man
is to cross your threshold, I also am banished from your presence,
and I therefore rather entreat you to let others visit you, in order
that I too may come to you sometimes."
There was something so humble, so imploring in his voice and look,
that Sitta Nefysseh's heart was touched against her will. She could
not do otherwise, she held out her hand and gave him a kindly look.
"I have sworn that no other man should cross my threshold; but you,
Youssouf, you may come sometimes."
He starts, and gazes at her intently. Her voice sounds so sweet, so
changed, and his eyes sparkle with delight.
She quickly withdraws her hand and looks down. She feels that she
has betrayed herself for a moment, she feels the ardent gaze that is
fastened on her, and dares not look up, for fear that he may read
the love that is reflected in her eyes.
"Farewell, Youssouf Bey! I tell you, you may sometimes come, but
farewell for the present."
She turns, and, without looking at him again, goes into the other
room, where her women are awaiting her. With a quick movement she
draws the curtain over the door; she knows that no one must see him
at this moment; she knows he will fall on his knees and kiss the
place where she stood. Yes, she knows this, for she loves him, and
understands his heart.
And she is right! He has fallen on his knees, and, again and again,
kisses the spot where she stood. Then he stretches out his arms and
opens his lips to utter a sweet word. Yet, he does not pronounce it,
for, if what he thinks be true, the air itself may not hear it! No,
his lips utter no word! He only kisses the air she has breathed. And
now can he go, for she has said that he may return!
He turns and leaves the house; his soldiers have never seen their
kachef's countenance so radiant as now. He mounts his horse, and
gallops off through the streets, followed by his Mamelukes.
Sitta Nefysseh hears his horse's hoofs ring out against the
pavement, and, like him, she sinks down upon her knees, and
stretches out her arms. "Youssouf, I love you! Allah be praised, I
have seen you again!"