THE TENT.
PEACE and tranquillity prevail at last.--For the present, at least,
the people enjoy blessings to which they have long been. strangers,
and it is to the new viceroy and his beneficent rule that they owe
these blessings. He has signalized the beginning of his rule by
compelling the lawless horde of Delis, called by Courschid his body-
guard, to return to the interior of Africa. He has also brought back
into subjection the Armenians and Albanians, who, carried away by
the war-fury, had, for a period, laughed at all order and
discipline. Though mild and gentle toward the devoted and obedient,
Mohammed is severe and cruel to the disobedient and defiant.
Many heads have fallen in these first days of his rule. The head of
many a wild soldier, who paid for his mutinous or riotous behavior
with his life, adorns the wall of the citadel, a warning to the
enemies of law and order.
This warning is not lost on the other soldiers, and on the secret
adherents of the Mamelukes; it teaches them to conform to
circumstances and bow their heads in submission. The Mamelukes
themselves are far distant from Cairo, and lie encamped near Minieh,
equipping and disciplining their forces, and preparing to renew the
struggle.
The viceroy, however, has a strong arm, and his power increases
daily. He will bring them also into submission.
The people who pass the palace occupied by Mohammed as sarechsme,
stand still, and gaze with curiosity at the changes and alterations
being made there. Large numbers of laborers are engaged in repairing
the injuries sustained by the building in the recent conflicts; in
setting out trees and shrubbery in the garden, and in adorning it
with rare flowers. Great improvements are progressing in the wing of
the building whose windows open on the garden.
Artistically carved lattice-work and shutters are being affixed to
the lofty windows of the second story. And the curious, who observe
this, give each other a sly look, and smile. They understand the
significance of these shutters. These are the shutters of the
windows of a harem, and they proclaim that Mohammed is now also
occupied with, other than affairs of state. The people rejoice in
these harem windows, for they are a guarantee of peace. When the
warrior builds a harem, it proves that he himself believes in the
stability of peace, and the new order of things. And the new viceroy
does.
In discussing these matters, the people who stand in front of the
palace of the Esbekieh tell each other that the viceroy has sent a
messenger to his distant home beyond the sea, where his first wife
and children live, and has sent them word to come to him. "They will
come by water!" relates one of them, "and that is why the dehabieh
is being built at Boulak. It is like a magnificent saloon, and is to
be beautifully adorned--the walls hung with velvet, and the floor
covered with costly Persian carpets. The viceroy's first wife and
his children will come up from Alexandria in this dehabieh."
"His first wife?" exclaims another. "You speak of his first. Has he
then other wives?"
The person addressed then assumes a mysterious air, as if to
intimate that he is in the viceroy's confidence, and quite
accurately informed as to the number of his wives. "It is not
known," says he, hesitatingly; "it is, however, well known that a
harem has been constructed at the citadel, and that here also the
apartments in the wing of the palace are to be arranged as a harem."
"One wife hardly requires two harems, I should fancy?" they all
laughingly repeat; "by Allah, one wife has no need of two harems,
and the viceroy must therefore have as the prophet allows, more than
one wife."
But no one knows it; and Mohammed takes care to be silent concerning
his private life. He is reticent in such matters, and only talkative
when in conference with his ministers and government officials, and
most so when conversing with Hassan, his minister of finance, on
which occasions he is often compelled to hear that the treasury is
unfortunately almost empty, and that new means of replenishing it
must be devised.
Money is scarce, but none is spared in decorating the apartments at
the citadel, and below in the palace of the Esbekieh.
The apartments in the citadel destined to be the harem of the
viceroy's wife, as well as the other apartments of the palace, are
being splendidly furnished.
The upper apartments, now that they are completed, the viceroy
inspects alone; through the others he walks beside his faithful
friend Hassan, pointing out with complacency the beauties of the
long suite of elegantly-furnished apartments.
"And do you know who is to occupy these rooms, Hassan?" asked
Mohammed, his countenance assuming a more mild and kindly expression
than Hassan had ever before observed in the usually stern and severe
features of his master.
"It is said the viceroy has sent for his sons," replied Hassan, "and
I therefore suppose that they are to live here."
"And your supposition is right, my friend," replied the viceroy,
smiling. "Yes, here my dear sons will live, my three boys. Yet they
must be almost young men by this time. Let me see, five years have
passed since I saw them. They must have changed very much in this
time, Hassan, and I confess my heart yearns for them. Do you think
they will know me?"
"You are not changed, master," replied Hassan. "Just as you look
now, you looked on that day, you know, the day at Aboukir, when I
saw you for the first time."
"I know, we met there for the first time, and you are the only
friend that has stood beside me faithfully since that day. The only
one, too, Hassan, in whom I confide, and may Allah grant that you
stand beside me through life!"
"Yes, may Allah grant that my enemies may never succeed in making
you distrust me. For this I know, I shall remain faithful to you
until death; and malice and calumny alone can succeed in alienating
from me my master's confidence."
"Hassan," said the viceroy, looking at him earnestly, "I do not
listen to calumny, and, whatever I hear, I do not believe it unless
I recognize it as truth. You will be often calumniated, my friend;
that I well know. But this I promise you: whatever evil is said of
you I will repeat to you, to enable you to justify yourself, and
then woe to those who have the temerity to calumniate you!"
The viceroy has shown the beautiful apartments of the citadel to his
friend Hassan, but the apartments in the palace of the Esbekieh he
shows to no one; through them he wanders alone. The saloons and
chambers are not yet finished; he carefully observes them as he
walks along, noting whether his instructions are being complied
with. Now he has entered the immense saloon, situated at the end of
the apartments of the harem. He locks the door behind him; here no
one must see him; to this sanctuary no human eye must follow him.
At the entrance he stands still and looks around. A wondrous change
has come over him. He smiles, and his countenance is still more
radiant than when he spoke with Hassan of his sons. His eyes sparkle
like those of a youth who beholds again the countenance of his
beloved.
The saloon is curiously furnished. Nothing splendid, nothing
beautiful is to be seen. Simple mats cover the floor, such mats,
woven of long straw by the fellahs, as adorn the harems of the
poorer class of people in Cairo. There are no divans, but only low
cushions covered with plain woolen cloth, no costly hangings, no
mirrors on the walls; they are hung with gray linen, as though they
were the sides of a gigantic tent, and in the middle of this immense
space there really stands a tent--a large one made of white cloth,
patched with colored rags of every description, such a tent as the
Bedouin chiefs of the desert dwell in.
Any one entering this immense space, after passing through the
glittering apartments of the harem, would have been strangely and
mysteriously affected by its appearance.
But Mohammed is not so affected. He steps in noiselessly, as if
fearing to disturb the repose of some one.
Is any one reposing there?
Not yet; but the time, it is to be hoped, will soon come when this
tent shall no longer be unoccupied as now.
Mohammed steps forward, draws back the curtain, and enters the first
apartment of the tent.
How plain it is, how desolate and bare! On the mat in the corner,
however, lie cushions, and spread over them a shawl adorned with
tassels, the cover for the person who is to sleep there; there
stands also a stool, and on it lies a tray, which contains various
articles of table-ware, such as dishes, plates, and pitchers. `
It all looks extremely plain, but, when viewed more closely, it is
observed that, beneath this simplicity, splendor is concealed. When
the shawl is raised, it is discovered that the other side is of
heavy crimson velvet, inworked with gold, and bordered with pearls.
When the tray that lies on the stool is examined, it is found to be
of solid silver, and of great value, though unpolished and rough;
and the cups, dishes, and other articles, prove to be of richly-
worked gold, set with precious stones, and placed as if in jest in
plain, wooden forms. Mohammed examines all these things with a smile
of satisfaction, and murmurs to himself: "Yes, yes, it was just so.
The first apartment presented just this appearance."
He now draws back the curtain that opens into the second apartment,
and it seems to him he hears now as then a sweet voice say: "The
second apartment is for the women, and no man is ever allowed to
enter it. I will conduct you into that apartment, and there I beg
you to remain."
The second apartment, where Butheita lived, was just like this.
There lay the cushions on which her lovely form reposed at night.
Just so was the woollen cover with its white and brown stripes, and
like these were the little red shoes that stood beside her couch
there. Only those were of leather and these were of red velvet, and
sparkled with precious stones. When raised, it was found that the
other side of this woollen cover, like that in the other apartment,
was also of splendid material, richly worked and adorned with gems.
There was nothing else here but a small chest that stood in a remote
corner, as in Butheita's tent. In that she kept the little
ornaments, purchased for her in Tantah by her father, articles of
jewelry found in the sand of the desert, and which had perhaps been
worn by a daughter of the Pharaohs, and gems that had been taken
from the grave of some mummy, where they had lain for thousands of
years. Outwardly the chest that stood in the corner looked like the
other, but it contained treasures of a different nature; a costly
necklace of pearls, buckles of enormous value, and a diadem, so
lustrous that it seemed as though Mohammed had stolen stars from
heaven with which to adorn his love.
As he stands there absorbed in the contemplation of these articles,
a feeling of unutterable bliss comes over him, of happiness unknown
to him for many long years.
Yes, unknown to him for long years, for very many have elapsed since
Masa died. Since the time when he prepared the subterranean grotto
for Masa, he has never until now experienced such ecstasy. He steps
out, closes the curtains, and surveys every thing once more, and
smiles his approval.
"Now I go for your mistress," murmured he, as he turns and walks
toward the door. But at the door he suddenly stands still. He feels
that this is not the countenance of the viceroy, of a ruler, but
that of a happy man. Such a countenance he must, however, not
exhibit to the world; no one must see that the ruler, perplexed and
weighed down with the cares of state, can sometimes forget that he
is a ruler, and become for a moment a happy man. When he steps out
his countenance wears its usual grave and severe expression.
On the evening of this day, the viceroy leaves the citadel for a
short time. He wishes to repose for a few days in his house on the
shore of the Nile, opposite Boulak, in the house he had caused to be
built when he was sarechsme, and to which he had given the name
Salam-lyk.
A single servant, Achmed, accompanies the viceroy to Salam-lyk,
where he proposes to enjoy a little rest from the cares of state, as
he is in the habit of doing from time to time.
Upon his arrival at Salam-lyk, he calls Achmed to his apartment,
confers with him for a long time, and gives him instructions with
regard to something he wishes him to do. Achmed leaves him, mounts a
swift dromedary, and rides out into the night, and Mohammed retires
to rest. But he rises again with the earliest dawn, and gazes
impatiently out of the window, as if expecting some one; he smiles
at himself; he is as impatient as a young girl, or as a lover
awaiting the coming of his love.
But hour after hour passes, and still he sees no one coming up the
path that leads through the garden to the house. But finally, at
noon, Achmed is seen approaching
Mohammed hastens out into the garden to meet him.
"Well, did you find the tent?"
"Yes, master, the dromedary ran to it of its own accord."
"And whom did you meet at the tent?"
"The father, master--the chief Arnhyn."
Mohammed quickly averts his face--the servant must not see that his
lips quiver, that he grows pale.
"You met the chief, and he was alone?"
"Yes, master, alone in his tent, and I conversed with him."
"What was said? Did he speak of his daughter? Has she followed
another man to his tent?" asked Mohammed, in such quick, passionate
tones, that Achmed started and failed to understand his meaning.
"No, master, he spoke to me of his daughter, because I, as you
instructed me, asked about, her, yet so casually, that he could not
suspect that I particularly desired to speak of her. He told me his
daughter was much changed; she had become sad and delicate, and he
had therefore sent her to visit some friends at Petresin, in order
that she might be thrown together with other young girls for a time,
and learn to laugh and jest again. She had, however, sent her father
word yesterday that she could endure it no longer, and would return
home to-day. He stood at the door awaiting her, unwilling to leave
his tent to go out to meet her, for fear of the thieving Bedouins
that roam the desert, and who knew that his tent contained costly
treasures."
"Then you suppose Butheita will return to her father's to-day?"
"I remained there until I saw her coming in the distance. The
sheik's eagle-eyes recognized her in the dim distance. 'There comes
my daughter, Butheita, with her friends!' he cried, joyously; 'in an
hour she will be here.' I remained some time longer, the sheik
gradually becoming more and more delighted as he recognized his
daughter more distinctly. 'Yes, it is Butheita!' he cried; 'she is
returning home.' Then I took my departure, master, to bring you the
intelligence."
"And how long," asked Mohammed, hastily, his countenance averted--
"how long do you suppose it will take to reach the sheik's tent?"
"I took, as you instructed me, master, the dromedary you recently
purchased from Sheik Arnhyn. It knew the road, and flew on its way
like the wind, without any guidance. I think it call be reached in
two hours."
"In two hours!" repeated Mohammed. "An hour after sunset, this
evening, have the dromedary in readiness, and, for yourself, the
swiftest horse. At that hour we will depart."