Mohammed Ali and His House [17]
amorous intrigue? Well, I will not demand the reason, for the young gentleman certainly knows the first law of love-- discretion," observed the merchant, with a smile.
"I have no use for that law," said Mohammed, proudly. "You shall know. This love-offering is for my mother. She is the only woman I love, and she will also be the only one I shall ever love. Give me a beautiful dress, richly embroidered, and a veil adorned with golden fringe. She shall go no more to the mosque so poorly dressed. She shall be magnificently arrayed, that she may be envied by all other women. Give me something very handsome."
"You shall have it, my boy. Excuse me for calling you so again, but this time it is done to show you my love for your childlike heart. Come with me to the hall. You shall select the handsomest dress, regardless of the cost."
He led him to the hall in which he kept the magnificent goods from which the ladies in the harems of the Turks of rank were accustomed to select their festal dresses, and spread the beautiful goods out before Mohammed. The boy's eyes sparkled with pleasure as he beheld this costly array. He selected a magnificent piece of purple satin embroidered with silver, and an Indian veil of the finest make, adorned with fringe of real gold. It was a suit that would have delighted the daughters of the sultan at Stamboul, and it did not occur to Mohammed that it was worth at least ten times as much as he had to give for it. Mr. Lion took the four ducats with a smile, and handed him the beautiful goods wrapped in gilt-edged paper. Mohammed, proud of his bargain, took the package, and ran in breathless haste to his mother.
"Here, mother, I bring you something you will like!" he cried.
"Yourself?" asked Khadra, with a gentle smile. "I need nothing else."
"Yes, Mother Khadra, you do need something else. You need a dress and a veil, such as the other ladies of rank wear. Do not be alarmed, mother, it is honestly acquired. There, take it, and rejoice!" He spread the costly goods out before her, expecting her to cry out with delight. But she only became sad; on her pale cheeks glowed the roses which Death bestows on those whom he is about to call to himself.
"My son!" said she. "This magnificence is not for me!"
"Yes, Mother Khadra, it is indeed for you. Ask the merchant, Lion; I paid for it honestly. You think, perhaps, I have not noticed that the dress in which you go to the mosque is torn and faded? You think, perhaps, I do not know that your head-dress has often been mended? I well know that it has been. I know, too, that the women laugh and say mockingly:--She has not even a Sabbath dress, and appears before Allah in the garb of a beggar!' Therefore, I rejoice at having been able to procure a new dress for you, mother. Have it made, in order that you may appear before Allah in festive attire."
"No my son, it is impossible," said Khadra sadly, as Mohammed held out the costly package.
"Why impossible?" cried he, excitedly.
"Because it does not become the widow of Ibrahim, the poor woman, to array herself in garments of purple, gold-embroidered satin, like the ladies of rank. The women would laugh at and mock me more than ever if I should wear such magnificent garments instead of my faded dress. Neither can I wear the veil. You can preserve all this to give to your bride some day. It does not become old Sitta Khadra to adorn herself thus."
"You are not old, Mother Khadra," said he, in half-tender, angry tones. "You are still young, and when you adorn yourself with these garments, there will be no handsomer woman in all Cavalla than Sitta Khadra. I beg you to put them on; but, to please me, leave the veil a little open, as the other women do, that people may see how beautiful my mother is."
"This is folly, and I, am glad no one else hears your audacious words. No chaste woman opens her veil to permit the gaze of disrespectful men to fall on her, and my son Mohammed does not wish to blush for his mother. My son, take back this package to Mr. Lion. I cannot wear such clothes."
"You
"I have no use for that law," said Mohammed, proudly. "You shall know. This love-offering is for my mother. She is the only woman I love, and she will also be the only one I shall ever love. Give me a beautiful dress, richly embroidered, and a veil adorned with golden fringe. She shall go no more to the mosque so poorly dressed. She shall be magnificently arrayed, that she may be envied by all other women. Give me something very handsome."
"You shall have it, my boy. Excuse me for calling you so again, but this time it is done to show you my love for your childlike heart. Come with me to the hall. You shall select the handsomest dress, regardless of the cost."
He led him to the hall in which he kept the magnificent goods from which the ladies in the harems of the Turks of rank were accustomed to select their festal dresses, and spread the beautiful goods out before Mohammed. The boy's eyes sparkled with pleasure as he beheld this costly array. He selected a magnificent piece of purple satin embroidered with silver, and an Indian veil of the finest make, adorned with fringe of real gold. It was a suit that would have delighted the daughters of the sultan at Stamboul, and it did not occur to Mohammed that it was worth at least ten times as much as he had to give for it. Mr. Lion took the four ducats with a smile, and handed him the beautiful goods wrapped in gilt-edged paper. Mohammed, proud of his bargain, took the package, and ran in breathless haste to his mother.
"Here, mother, I bring you something you will like!" he cried.
"Yourself?" asked Khadra, with a gentle smile. "I need nothing else."
"Yes, Mother Khadra, you do need something else. You need a dress and a veil, such as the other ladies of rank wear. Do not be alarmed, mother, it is honestly acquired. There, take it, and rejoice!" He spread the costly goods out before her, expecting her to cry out with delight. But she only became sad; on her pale cheeks glowed the roses which Death bestows on those whom he is about to call to himself.
"My son!" said she. "This magnificence is not for me!"
"Yes, Mother Khadra, it is indeed for you. Ask the merchant, Lion; I paid for it honestly. You think, perhaps, I have not noticed that the dress in which you go to the mosque is torn and faded? You think, perhaps, I do not know that your head-dress has often been mended? I well know that it has been. I know, too, that the women laugh and say mockingly:--She has not even a Sabbath dress, and appears before Allah in the garb of a beggar!' Therefore, I rejoice at having been able to procure a new dress for you, mother. Have it made, in order that you may appear before Allah in festive attire."
"No my son, it is impossible," said Khadra sadly, as Mohammed held out the costly package.
"Why impossible?" cried he, excitedly.
"Because it does not become the widow of Ibrahim, the poor woman, to array herself in garments of purple, gold-embroidered satin, like the ladies of rank. The women would laugh at and mock me more than ever if I should wear such magnificent garments instead of my faded dress. Neither can I wear the veil. You can preserve all this to give to your bride some day. It does not become old Sitta Khadra to adorn herself thus."
"You are not old, Mother Khadra," said he, in half-tender, angry tones. "You are still young, and when you adorn yourself with these garments, there will be no handsomer woman in all Cavalla than Sitta Khadra. I beg you to put them on; but, to please me, leave the veil a little open, as the other women do, that people may see how beautiful my mother is."
"This is folly, and I, am glad no one else hears your audacious words. No chaste woman opens her veil to permit the gaze of disrespectful men to fall on her, and my son Mohammed does not wish to blush for his mother. My son, take back this package to Mr. Lion. I cannot wear such clothes."
"You