Mohammed Ali and His House [181]
of the city. He crossed the threshold without meeting any one. All was still in the dark, narrow passage. He opened the door of the chamber. On a mat sat an old woman, weaving woolen cloth.
"Are you the mother of Kachef Youssouf?" asked the sarechsme.
She turned around. "Yes, I am. You have not come to arrest my son? He has not gone out to battle, he remains in Cairo, and is the faithful servant of his gracious mistress, Sitta Nefysseh."
"That I know. I have not come on a hostile errand, but merely to speak to him. Where is he?"
"Where he always is, master, with his gracious mistress. If you wish it, I will call him; a door opens from this house into Sitta Nefysseh's park, and I know where my son is to be found."
"Then call him quickly."
The old woman hastened away. In a short time she returned with her son Youssouf.
"Do you know me?" asked Mohammed, advancing to meet him.
"Yes, who does not know the brave sarechsme, Mohammed Ali?"
"Do you love your mistress? " asked Mohammed
Youssouf looked at him with an expression of dismay and anxiety.
"I mean, you love her as it beseems every faithful servant to love his mistress-you are ready to do her every service?"
"Yes, sarechsme, so do I love her," replied Youssouf, in low tones.
"Then listen! Come close to me--it is a secret. I tell you of it for your mistress's sake; reward me by letting no one know who told you."
"I swear that I will not, sarechsme!"
"Go to your mistress and tell her to have all her treasure, her gold and silver plate, and all her other valuables, put in a safe place. You probably have some such places in your cellars or vaults. It must be done quickly. Say a dream has warned you or what you will, but do not name me!"
He enveloped himself in his mantle, and hurried back to his palace, in which all was now still. The soldiers had gone out to spend the present given them by their general in joy and revelry. Mohammed was again alone in his chamber. e walked to and fro, reflecting on all he had done, with silent self-applause :
"It would have been unfortunate had he found Sitta Nefysseh's treasure. It would help him out of his difficulties. That would never do. You are falling, Cousrouf! and it is I who am hurling you down! Your peril increases with every hour! You have only to insult Sitta Nefysseh, and all Cairo will rise up in arms against you. Let that be your last deed! Then, Cousrouf, when you have fallen, you shall know who has destroyed you!--Masa, sleep quietly in your cold grave! You are being avenged!"
CHAPTER V
A STRONG HEART.
Mohammed Ali's warning to the kachef Youssouf had not been disregarded. In the secret vault, the entrance to which had been confided by Mourad Bey to his wife on his deathbed, Sitta Nefysseh's treasure now lay in security.
No one in the house knew of this vault; Sitta Nefysseh had confided it to the kachef Youssouf only, and they two had conveyed all her valuables to this hiding place.
When all was completed, and the Sitta had retired to her apartments, Youssouf announced himself, and, upon being admitted, stepped humbly forward, fell on his knees, and handed her the keys.
She looked at him in surprise. "What does this mean? What do you bring me?"
"The keys to the vault. This one opens the inner, and the other the outer door."
"You will keep them for me, Youssouf," said his mistress, inclining her beautiful head.
"You confide them to me," said he, his countenance radiant with delight. "You wish to confide to your slave the keys to your treasure?"
"Does that surprise you?" asked she, gently. "I know I can safely confide to the kachef of my deceased husband all that I have and possess. You will keep the keys; and listen, Youssouf, should I die- -"
"Die!" he exclaimed, with a cry which he found it impossible to repress. "Die!--you, Sitta Nefysseh?"
"I am mortal, as we all are, as great Mourad was!" said she, gravely. "If I should die, you will take these keys to Osman Bey Bardissi, and tell him that Sitta Nefysseh sends them to him, and
"Are you the mother of Kachef Youssouf?" asked the sarechsme.
She turned around. "Yes, I am. You have not come to arrest my son? He has not gone out to battle, he remains in Cairo, and is the faithful servant of his gracious mistress, Sitta Nefysseh."
"That I know. I have not come on a hostile errand, but merely to speak to him. Where is he?"
"Where he always is, master, with his gracious mistress. If you wish it, I will call him; a door opens from this house into Sitta Nefysseh's park, and I know where my son is to be found."
"Then call him quickly."
The old woman hastened away. In a short time she returned with her son Youssouf.
"Do you know me?" asked Mohammed, advancing to meet him.
"Yes, who does not know the brave sarechsme, Mohammed Ali?"
"Do you love your mistress? " asked Mohammed
Youssouf looked at him with an expression of dismay and anxiety.
"I mean, you love her as it beseems every faithful servant to love his mistress-you are ready to do her every service?"
"Yes, sarechsme, so do I love her," replied Youssouf, in low tones.
"Then listen! Come close to me--it is a secret. I tell you of it for your mistress's sake; reward me by letting no one know who told you."
"I swear that I will not, sarechsme!"
"Go to your mistress and tell her to have all her treasure, her gold and silver plate, and all her other valuables, put in a safe place. You probably have some such places in your cellars or vaults. It must be done quickly. Say a dream has warned you or what you will, but do not name me!"
He enveloped himself in his mantle, and hurried back to his palace, in which all was now still. The soldiers had gone out to spend the present given them by their general in joy and revelry. Mohammed was again alone in his chamber. e walked to and fro, reflecting on all he had done, with silent self-applause :
"It would have been unfortunate had he found Sitta Nefysseh's treasure. It would help him out of his difficulties. That would never do. You are falling, Cousrouf! and it is I who am hurling you down! Your peril increases with every hour! You have only to insult Sitta Nefysseh, and all Cairo will rise up in arms against you. Let that be your last deed! Then, Cousrouf, when you have fallen, you shall know who has destroyed you!--Masa, sleep quietly in your cold grave! You are being avenged!"
CHAPTER V
A STRONG HEART.
Mohammed Ali's warning to the kachef Youssouf had not been disregarded. In the secret vault, the entrance to which had been confided by Mourad Bey to his wife on his deathbed, Sitta Nefysseh's treasure now lay in security.
No one in the house knew of this vault; Sitta Nefysseh had confided it to the kachef Youssouf only, and they two had conveyed all her valuables to this hiding place.
When all was completed, and the Sitta had retired to her apartments, Youssouf announced himself, and, upon being admitted, stepped humbly forward, fell on his knees, and handed her the keys.
She looked at him in surprise. "What does this mean? What do you bring me?"
"The keys to the vault. This one opens the inner, and the other the outer door."
"You will keep them for me, Youssouf," said his mistress, inclining her beautiful head.
"You confide them to me," said he, his countenance radiant with delight. "You wish to confide to your slave the keys to your treasure?"
"Does that surprise you?" asked she, gently. "I know I can safely confide to the kachef of my deceased husband all that I have and possess. You will keep the keys; and listen, Youssouf, should I die- -"
"Die!" he exclaimed, with a cry which he found it impossible to repress. "Die!--you, Sitta Nefysseh?"
"I am mortal, as we all are, as great Mourad was!" said she, gravely. "If I should die, you will take these keys to Osman Bey Bardissi, and tell him that Sitta Nefysseh sends them to him, and