Mohammed Ali and His House [186]
meditations, leaned forward and drew the window curtains aside. The people, who in their wrath had not observed that the cadi and his officers constituted the escort of the carriage, now became silent as they saw the woman at the window, and peered in with curiosity.
Sitta Nefysseh raised her veil and displayed her countenance to the multitude. "It is Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's widow!" resounded in the street. The cry was repeated until the gaze of all became fixed on the carriage in astonishment. "What does it mean?"
Buying and selling were no longer thought of. The people followed the carriage, which moved slowly through the crowded street toward the viceroy's citadel, in dense masses. It was in vain that the cadi ordered them to disperse; in vain that the officers threatened them with drawn swords. They only pressed on in denser masses, increased by the people who came Rocking from their houses to see Mourad Bey's widow, who sat tranquilly in the carriage with her two women. Their destination was at last reached, and the gates of the citadel closed behind them. The people who had accompanied the carriage remained without, yelling and shrieking: "Sitta Nefysseh is imprisoned--let us liberate her!"
Sitta Nefysseh had left her carriage, and was now following the cadi, who walked in advance. Behind her came the two women, followed by the officers. Thus the procession moved in profound silence up the broad stairway and into the grand reception saloon.
"Be kind enough to wait here a moment," said the cadi.
He walked into the neat apartment. Sitta Nefysseh, who had again covered her face with her veil, stood proudly erect in the midst of the saloon. The two weeping women stepped nearer to their mistress, and asked if danger threatened her, and begged to be permitted to accompany her everywhere.
"Be still!" said Sitta, in low tones. "Shed no tears. These men must not have the satisfaction of seeing us appear cowardly and weak."
The cadi now returned and stood at the threshold, holding the velvet curtain aside.
"Be kind enough to enter, Sitta Nefysseh."
"Not alone. My women will accompany me."
"No, they are to remain here. You alone are to enter. The women will await your return here."
Sitta Nefysseh walked proudly into the next apartment. The curtain fell back behind her. Cousrouf, who lay stretched out on his silken cushions, smoking his chibouque, looked up at her through the clouds of smoke that enveloped him as she entered the room. She looked at him composedly, and remained standing at the door with so proud and dignified a bearing, such majesty in her whole appearance, that Cousrouf's insolence could not but succumb. He arose and advanced to meet her.
"I salute you, Sitta Nefysseh, widow of Mourad Bey!"
"I do not return your salutation. I have been conducted here from my house in an insulting manner, and I am now surprised to find that his highness seems only to have had me brought here in order to salute me."
"I did not call you in order to salute you, but for an entirely different purpose," replied Cousrouf. "Seat yourself on the ottoman beside me, and let us converse."
"Converse, highness? Friends and confidants sit down to converse with each other, but unfortunately we are neither," replied she, composedly, as she seated herself on the ottoman with the dignity of a princess. Cousrouf remaining standing, Sitta Nefysseh raised her hand and pointed to the divan. "To the viceroy belongs the seat of honor. I beg your highness to take that seat."
He bowed slightly, and took the seat assigned him.
"I wished to beg Sitta Nefysseh's permission to seat myself at her side,to converse with her as a friend. You do not desire it, however--you wish to see in me the prince only. Let it be so. I am only the viceroy, and I have summoned you to appear before me."
"Summoned, you call it?" cried she, passionately. "I call it being dragged here in a disgraceful manner!"
"Compose yourself, Sitta Nefysseh; let us converse calmly. I have grave reproaches to make."
"Against me?" asked
Sitta Nefysseh raised her veil and displayed her countenance to the multitude. "It is Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's widow!" resounded in the street. The cry was repeated until the gaze of all became fixed on the carriage in astonishment. "What does it mean?"
Buying and selling were no longer thought of. The people followed the carriage, which moved slowly through the crowded street toward the viceroy's citadel, in dense masses. It was in vain that the cadi ordered them to disperse; in vain that the officers threatened them with drawn swords. They only pressed on in denser masses, increased by the people who came Rocking from their houses to see Mourad Bey's widow, who sat tranquilly in the carriage with her two women. Their destination was at last reached, and the gates of the citadel closed behind them. The people who had accompanied the carriage remained without, yelling and shrieking: "Sitta Nefysseh is imprisoned--let us liberate her!"
Sitta Nefysseh had left her carriage, and was now following the cadi, who walked in advance. Behind her came the two women, followed by the officers. Thus the procession moved in profound silence up the broad stairway and into the grand reception saloon.
"Be kind enough to wait here a moment," said the cadi.
He walked into the neat apartment. Sitta Nefysseh, who had again covered her face with her veil, stood proudly erect in the midst of the saloon. The two weeping women stepped nearer to their mistress, and asked if danger threatened her, and begged to be permitted to accompany her everywhere.
"Be still!" said Sitta, in low tones. "Shed no tears. These men must not have the satisfaction of seeing us appear cowardly and weak."
The cadi now returned and stood at the threshold, holding the velvet curtain aside.
"Be kind enough to enter, Sitta Nefysseh."
"Not alone. My women will accompany me."
"No, they are to remain here. You alone are to enter. The women will await your return here."
Sitta Nefysseh walked proudly into the next apartment. The curtain fell back behind her. Cousrouf, who lay stretched out on his silken cushions, smoking his chibouque, looked up at her through the clouds of smoke that enveloped him as she entered the room. She looked at him composedly, and remained standing at the door with so proud and dignified a bearing, such majesty in her whole appearance, that Cousrouf's insolence could not but succumb. He arose and advanced to meet her.
"I salute you, Sitta Nefysseh, widow of Mourad Bey!"
"I do not return your salutation. I have been conducted here from my house in an insulting manner, and I am now surprised to find that his highness seems only to have had me brought here in order to salute me."
"I did not call you in order to salute you, but for an entirely different purpose," replied Cousrouf. "Seat yourself on the ottoman beside me, and let us converse."
"Converse, highness? Friends and confidants sit down to converse with each other, but unfortunately we are neither," replied she, composedly, as she seated herself on the ottoman with the dignity of a princess. Cousrouf remaining standing, Sitta Nefysseh raised her hand and pointed to the divan. "To the viceroy belongs the seat of honor. I beg your highness to take that seat."
He bowed slightly, and took the seat assigned him.
"I wished to beg Sitta Nefysseh's permission to seat myself at her side,to converse with her as a friend. You do not desire it, however--you wish to see in me the prince only. Let it be so. I am only the viceroy, and I have summoned you to appear before me."
"Summoned, you call it?" cried she, passionately. "I call it being dragged here in a disgraceful manner!"
"Compose yourself, Sitta Nefysseh; let us converse calmly. I have grave reproaches to make."
"Against me?" asked