Mohammed Ali and His House [114]
sorrow, and whose hearts beat warmly for him. This was written in their countenances; this their busy, anxious movements betrayed.
When he was sufficiently recovered to be spoken to, Osman told him of Ada's love, of her grief on his account, of her joy in being permitted to nurse him, and of her having separated herself from the past, forsaking all else to serve him and him alone.
He made no reply, but closed his eyes, and a low groan escaped his lips.
Poor Ada! The story of her love reminds him of his own, and for a moment the old wound bleeds afresh.
Could he be ungrateful? Could he now abandon her who had forsaken every thing for him when he was in distress, and needed her care? Could he do this now, when strength had returned to him, now that he was able to walk in the garden, supported on his friend Osman's arm? Could he forsake her who walked beside him, her eyes sparkling with delight at his recovery?
And when the tschorbadji came, now that Mohammed was strong enough to occupy himself with his future business matters, and spoke to him seriously, and, with Ada's consent, formally proposed his marriage with his niece, in order that her reputation might not suffer, and that she might regain the position she had lost before the world on his account, could he cowardly decline, and excuse himself with his own grief? Would it become him to say, "Let the woman who has loved me live in disgrace!" Could he do this?
No, he felt that it would be cruel in him to act thus; and how could he be cruel, he who had suffered so much from the inhumanity of others?
He accepted the tscborbadji's proposal. He went to Ada, who awaited him, her heart throbbing anxiously, and asked her if she would be his wife, follow him to his house, and walk with him through life in sorrow and in joy.
He asked this question in a sad, low voice, and Ada knew what lay buried in the depths of his heart; but she, nevertheless, accepted his offer, and consoled herself with the thought: "All things pass away, and time heals all wounds."
She became his wife, and brought with her a rich dowry.
He had, however, made no inquiries after this; did not care for it; and did not rejoice when, on the morning after the wedding, the tschorbadji took his arm and conducted him to one of the largest and best houses in the main street of Cavalla. He showed him the store and parlors, and led him up the stone stairway into the apartments of the harem, that were richly furnished and adorned.
Nor did he smile when, on descending the stairway, Ada met him, and begged him, in her gentle voice, to accept the house and all it contained as his property, as a love-offering from her.
He thanked her with many kind and tender words, yet Ada felt that the wound still burned in his soul, and the sad tone of his voice did not escape her. The house was handsome, and so was the store. The advice of the merchant Lion had been taken by Ada, and the tschorbadji and he kindly assisted in arranging every thing for the young merchant in a suitable and appropriate manner. Mohammed was not to deal, like his friend Lion, in all kinds of household articles. Lion knew the young man better; he knew that such a business would not suit him, and that his lips would not conform to the necessity of using complacent words and flattery, in order to dispose of his wares. The merchant had, therefore, advised Ada and the tschorbadji to arrange to have the young man embark in a wholesale business.
The tobacco of Macedonia is celebrated far and wide, and vessels come there from all quarters of the globe to export this article and distribute it throughout the world. They had, therefore, made Mohammed proprietor of a large tobacco warehouse, and he had now been engaged in this business some ten years, and had become a wealthy merchant. The people called him a happy man, too, and perhaps be was, for Mohammed seemed to have true domestic happiness in his wife and children; he conducted no second wife into his harem. Ada was his only wife, and the sole mistress of his house.
Yes,
When he was sufficiently recovered to be spoken to, Osman told him of Ada's love, of her grief on his account, of her joy in being permitted to nurse him, and of her having separated herself from the past, forsaking all else to serve him and him alone.
He made no reply, but closed his eyes, and a low groan escaped his lips.
Poor Ada! The story of her love reminds him of his own, and for a moment the old wound bleeds afresh.
Could he be ungrateful? Could he now abandon her who had forsaken every thing for him when he was in distress, and needed her care? Could he do this now, when strength had returned to him, now that he was able to walk in the garden, supported on his friend Osman's arm? Could he forsake her who walked beside him, her eyes sparkling with delight at his recovery?
And when the tschorbadji came, now that Mohammed was strong enough to occupy himself with his future business matters, and spoke to him seriously, and, with Ada's consent, formally proposed his marriage with his niece, in order that her reputation might not suffer, and that she might regain the position she had lost before the world on his account, could he cowardly decline, and excuse himself with his own grief? Would it become him to say, "Let the woman who has loved me live in disgrace!" Could he do this?
No, he felt that it would be cruel in him to act thus; and how could he be cruel, he who had suffered so much from the inhumanity of others?
He accepted the tscborbadji's proposal. He went to Ada, who awaited him, her heart throbbing anxiously, and asked her if she would be his wife, follow him to his house, and walk with him through life in sorrow and in joy.
He asked this question in a sad, low voice, and Ada knew what lay buried in the depths of his heart; but she, nevertheless, accepted his offer, and consoled herself with the thought: "All things pass away, and time heals all wounds."
She became his wife, and brought with her a rich dowry.
He had, however, made no inquiries after this; did not care for it; and did not rejoice when, on the morning after the wedding, the tschorbadji took his arm and conducted him to one of the largest and best houses in the main street of Cavalla. He showed him the store and parlors, and led him up the stone stairway into the apartments of the harem, that were richly furnished and adorned.
Nor did he smile when, on descending the stairway, Ada met him, and begged him, in her gentle voice, to accept the house and all it contained as his property, as a love-offering from her.
He thanked her with many kind and tender words, yet Ada felt that the wound still burned in his soul, and the sad tone of his voice did not escape her. The house was handsome, and so was the store. The advice of the merchant Lion had been taken by Ada, and the tschorbadji and he kindly assisted in arranging every thing for the young merchant in a suitable and appropriate manner. Mohammed was not to deal, like his friend Lion, in all kinds of household articles. Lion knew the young man better; he knew that such a business would not suit him, and that his lips would not conform to the necessity of using complacent words and flattery, in order to dispose of his wares. The merchant had, therefore, advised Ada and the tschorbadji to arrange to have the young man embark in a wholesale business.
The tobacco of Macedonia is celebrated far and wide, and vessels come there from all quarters of the globe to export this article and distribute it throughout the world. They had, therefore, made Mohammed proprietor of a large tobacco warehouse, and he had now been engaged in this business some ten years, and had become a wealthy merchant. The people called him a happy man, too, and perhaps be was, for Mohammed seemed to have true domestic happiness in his wife and children; he conducted no second wife into his harem. Ada was his only wife, and the sole mistress of his house.
Yes,