Mohammed Ali and His House [140]
have now been overcome. Once he was a slave, but he had sworn to struggle for a great aim. He has kept his oath. Here he is the first, the ruler. Who knows but he may yet completely cast off the burden of dependence, and become absolutely free? Every thing rests on the acquisition of good and faithful friends and servants, and he will acquire such. It is so easy for the great to acquire friends! Is not the capitan pacha his friend? Does he not owe all that he is to him? He has elevated him from the dust, and made him commander of the army with which he has come over from Turkey. Yes, he is a true and devoted friend, and he will easily find others. His power will become great--great as all Egypt. He rises, calls one of the Nubian slaves, and bids him show him the way to the walls of the citadel.
The slave opens a secret door that leads into a narrow passage and upon the outer wall of the citadel. Motioning to the slave to remain in the passage, Cousrouf steps out, and then stands still, astonished at the splendid spectacle that lies before him. Spread out at his feet lies the holy Mazr, with all its minarets and towers. Farther on lies a whole city of cupolas--these are the graves of the caliphs; they rear their heads proudly aloft in the sunlight, congratulating the new ruler on his magnificence; but also reminding him of the perishable nature of all earthly glory--the saying of a certain wise man "Thou first and mightiest of mortals, be thankful that thou art alive!"
"I thank thee, Allah, that I am alive, and I bow down in humility before thee!" murmurs Cousrouf, reverently. He then again looks out with delight upon the landscape that lies before him. There, in a wide curve, winds the river Nile like a silver ribbon, innumerable decorated boats and barks dancing upon its surface. Here all is life and animation, beyond the Nile reigns a solemn stillness; for a certain distance from the river bank stand stately palm-trees, and then suddenly, sharply defined beside the green fields, begins the yellow sand. That is the desert--that is the mysterious theatre of so many adventures throughout the ages, the receptacle of so much hidden wealth, the great burying-ground of the unknown dead. There, on the horizon, where the yellow sand and the blue sky meet, stand the pyramids of Gheezeh, and farther on, in the purple distance, the pyramids of Sakkara.
"A world lies at my feet, and I am the ruler of this world. I have attained my aim," says he to himself. "All is fulfilled; but one thing is left to wish for. O Allah, grant me still many years in which to enjoy this magnificence!"
Once more he glances around at the beautiful landscape before him, and then, conducted by the slave, returns to his private apartments. He lies on his cushions, listening to the shouts of the delighted multitude without.
Suddenly the curtain that covers the doorway is noiselessly withdrawn, and a slave announces that a messenger from the capitan pacha, accompanied by a bim bashi, stands in the antechamber, awaiting his pleasure.
"What is the messenger's name?" asks Cousrouf, wearily.
"Hassan Aga, master, bim bashi of the capitan pacha."
"And his favorite," murmurs Cousrouf to himself. "Let Hassan Aga enter."
At the slave's call the messenger enters, bows his head to the ground, and hands his master's letter to the viceroy.
"Do you know its contents?" asks Cousrouf, slowly opening the letter.
"Yes, highness. It is a farewell letter from my master, who leaves to-morrow for Stamboul."
For an instant a smile glides over Cousrouf's countenance; but then it assumes a sad expression. "The capitan pacha is about to depart-- to leave me."
"He wishes to leave to you alone the honor of having laid subjugated Egypt at the feet of his master the grand-sultan, in Stamboul. He has done what lay in his power. The most dangerous Mamelukes have fallen beneath his blows. Shall I narrate to your highness how it was done?"
Cousrouf signifies his assent. Hassan hastily relates the bloody story of the assassination of the Mamelukes in the
The slave opens a secret door that leads into a narrow passage and upon the outer wall of the citadel. Motioning to the slave to remain in the passage, Cousrouf steps out, and then stands still, astonished at the splendid spectacle that lies before him. Spread out at his feet lies the holy Mazr, with all its minarets and towers. Farther on lies a whole city of cupolas--these are the graves of the caliphs; they rear their heads proudly aloft in the sunlight, congratulating the new ruler on his magnificence; but also reminding him of the perishable nature of all earthly glory--the saying of a certain wise man "Thou first and mightiest of mortals, be thankful that thou art alive!"
"I thank thee, Allah, that I am alive, and I bow down in humility before thee!" murmurs Cousrouf, reverently. He then again looks out with delight upon the landscape that lies before him. There, in a wide curve, winds the river Nile like a silver ribbon, innumerable decorated boats and barks dancing upon its surface. Here all is life and animation, beyond the Nile reigns a solemn stillness; for a certain distance from the river bank stand stately palm-trees, and then suddenly, sharply defined beside the green fields, begins the yellow sand. That is the desert--that is the mysterious theatre of so many adventures throughout the ages, the receptacle of so much hidden wealth, the great burying-ground of the unknown dead. There, on the horizon, where the yellow sand and the blue sky meet, stand the pyramids of Gheezeh, and farther on, in the purple distance, the pyramids of Sakkara.
"A world lies at my feet, and I am the ruler of this world. I have attained my aim," says he to himself. "All is fulfilled; but one thing is left to wish for. O Allah, grant me still many years in which to enjoy this magnificence!"
Once more he glances around at the beautiful landscape before him, and then, conducted by the slave, returns to his private apartments. He lies on his cushions, listening to the shouts of the delighted multitude without.
Suddenly the curtain that covers the doorway is noiselessly withdrawn, and a slave announces that a messenger from the capitan pacha, accompanied by a bim bashi, stands in the antechamber, awaiting his pleasure.
"What is the messenger's name?" asks Cousrouf, wearily.
"Hassan Aga, master, bim bashi of the capitan pacha."
"And his favorite," murmurs Cousrouf to himself. "Let Hassan Aga enter."
At the slave's call the messenger enters, bows his head to the ground, and hands his master's letter to the viceroy.
"Do you know its contents?" asks Cousrouf, slowly opening the letter.
"Yes, highness. It is a farewell letter from my master, who leaves to-morrow for Stamboul."
For an instant a smile glides over Cousrouf's countenance; but then it assumes a sad expression. "The capitan pacha is about to depart-- to leave me."
"He wishes to leave to you alone the honor of having laid subjugated Egypt at the feet of his master the grand-sultan, in Stamboul. He has done what lay in his power. The most dangerous Mamelukes have fallen beneath his blows. Shall I narrate to your highness how it was done?"
Cousrouf signifies his assent. Hassan hastily relates the bloody story of the assassination of the Mamelukes in the