Mohammed Ali and His House [18]
will not take them?" said the boy, hastily seizing the package. "What my heart's warmest love offers, you reject?"
"I reject it," said she, gently. "I have no need of such clothes."
"Very well," cried he, defiantly. "If you do not need these clothes, I will give them to the mermaids. They, too, like fine clothes, and they will thank me more for that which I have bought with my life. Yes, I will do this!"
He rushed to the door with such violence that Khadra could hardly recall him. "Where are you going, Mohammed?"
"To the cliffs. What my mother despises I will throw, into the sea."
"Well, if you are about to do that, it shall be as you wish," said the mother, leading him back from the door. "If the mermaids are to have these beautiful things, it is better Mother Khadra should keep them."
"You promise me to wear these clothes?" said he, a smile suddenly illuminating his face.
Khadra seated herself, spread out the beautiful goods, and regarded them with a mournful smile. "It looks like mockery."
"No, not like mockery, but like pure love," said the boy, eagerly. "My love dresses you in purple and gold, and I wish to see Sitta Khadra the most brilliant among women." A blissful smile suffused itself over his features. But suddenly this smile disappeared, and his countenance assumed an expression of care and anxiety. At this moment he saw how pale his mother was. Her pallor contrasted strangely with the purple lustre of the goods she held in her hands.
"You are not ill, Mother Khadra; you are not suffering?" said he, in the same anxious tone in which he had so often asked.
"No, my son, I am not ill," said she, regarding him calmly.
"When I shall some day wear this beautiful dress, and this gold- embroidered veil, you will take delight in me. Thank you, child of my heart, light of my eyes! Thank you for this, splendid present I will hold it in honor while life lasts."
"I thank you for accepting it, and beg you not to be angry with me for having been so violent," said Mohammed, entreatingly, as he kissed his mother's extended hand. "Tell me once more, mother, are you well; do you feel no pain?"
"I feel well, and am not suffering," said she, regarding him lovingly. 'I should gladly see you indulge yourself in one of your walks to the cliffs or mountains. It is long since you have taken one. I feel better than usual. I shall go to your sick uncle to wait on him, and when I return I shall lie down. You need not fear that I am waiting for you. Go to the mountains, beloved of my heart!"
"I shall do so gladly," he cried, embracing and kissing her heartily. He then walked with hasty steps to the door of the hut, and out into the free air.
CHAPTER V
THE STORY-TELLER
"I HAVE done work enough to day," murmured Mohammed to himself, as, after having left his mother, he walked through the dirty suburb to the stairway hewn in the rock that led down to the cliffs. "Yes, I have worked enough, and mother is well; I will therefore go to my paradise, and rest there awhile."
He sprang down the stairway and walked hastily toward the cliffs. After looking cautiously around, he crept through the narrow opening in the rocks into the passage. The silence did him good, and a happy smile played about his lips. "Here I am king," he cried, loudly and joyously. "This is my realm, and I shall soon enter my throne- chamber. How have I longed for this, how glad am I!" Suddenly he stood still. "What were Mother Khadra's words?" he asked himself. "'Only he who practises self-denial can enjoy.' Have I not always said to myself that I would accustom myself to want, and learn to enjoy by denying myself that which pleases me? Have I not said that I would not walk on rose-leaves, but learn to tread on thorns, that my feet might become inured to pain? And now, like a foolish child, I am delighted at the prospect of entering my cave, my throne- chamber! 'Only he who practises self-denial can enjoy.' Remember that, Mohammed, and learn to practise self-denial; I will learn it!" he cried so loudly that his voice
"I reject it," said she, gently. "I have no need of such clothes."
"Very well," cried he, defiantly. "If you do not need these clothes, I will give them to the mermaids. They, too, like fine clothes, and they will thank me more for that which I have bought with my life. Yes, I will do this!"
He rushed to the door with such violence that Khadra could hardly recall him. "Where are you going, Mohammed?"
"To the cliffs. What my mother despises I will throw, into the sea."
"Well, if you are about to do that, it shall be as you wish," said the mother, leading him back from the door. "If the mermaids are to have these beautiful things, it is better Mother Khadra should keep them."
"You promise me to wear these clothes?" said he, a smile suddenly illuminating his face.
Khadra seated herself, spread out the beautiful goods, and regarded them with a mournful smile. "It looks like mockery."
"No, not like mockery, but like pure love," said the boy, eagerly. "My love dresses you in purple and gold, and I wish to see Sitta Khadra the most brilliant among women." A blissful smile suffused itself over his features. But suddenly this smile disappeared, and his countenance assumed an expression of care and anxiety. At this moment he saw how pale his mother was. Her pallor contrasted strangely with the purple lustre of the goods she held in her hands.
"You are not ill, Mother Khadra; you are not suffering?" said he, in the same anxious tone in which he had so often asked.
"No, my son, I am not ill," said she, regarding him calmly.
"When I shall some day wear this beautiful dress, and this gold- embroidered veil, you will take delight in me. Thank you, child of my heart, light of my eyes! Thank you for this, splendid present I will hold it in honor while life lasts."
"I thank you for accepting it, and beg you not to be angry with me for having been so violent," said Mohammed, entreatingly, as he kissed his mother's extended hand. "Tell me once more, mother, are you well; do you feel no pain?"
"I feel well, and am not suffering," said she, regarding him lovingly. 'I should gladly see you indulge yourself in one of your walks to the cliffs or mountains. It is long since you have taken one. I feel better than usual. I shall go to your sick uncle to wait on him, and when I return I shall lie down. You need not fear that I am waiting for you. Go to the mountains, beloved of my heart!"
"I shall do so gladly," he cried, embracing and kissing her heartily. He then walked with hasty steps to the door of the hut, and out into the free air.
CHAPTER V
THE STORY-TELLER
"I HAVE done work enough to day," murmured Mohammed to himself, as, after having left his mother, he walked through the dirty suburb to the stairway hewn in the rock that led down to the cliffs. "Yes, I have worked enough, and mother is well; I will therefore go to my paradise, and rest there awhile."
He sprang down the stairway and walked hastily toward the cliffs. After looking cautiously around, he crept through the narrow opening in the rocks into the passage. The silence did him good, and a happy smile played about his lips. "Here I am king," he cried, loudly and joyously. "This is my realm, and I shall soon enter my throne- chamber. How have I longed for this, how glad am I!" Suddenly he stood still. "What were Mother Khadra's words?" he asked himself. "'Only he who practises self-denial can enjoy.' Have I not always said to myself that I would accustom myself to want, and learn to enjoy by denying myself that which pleases me? Have I not said that I would not walk on rose-leaves, but learn to tread on thorns, that my feet might become inured to pain? And now, like a foolish child, I am delighted at the prospect of entering my cave, my throne- chamber! 'Only he who practises self-denial can enjoy.' Remember that, Mohammed, and learn to practise self-denial; I will learn it!" he cried so loudly that his voice