Mohammed Ali and His House [210]
and cries of rage. Suddenly Mohammed Ali, followed by a few of his soldiers, appears on the threshold. In a loud voice he begs the people to disperse; in Bardissi's name he promises that the collection of the new tax shall not be enforced. He had gone to Bardissi and entreated him to torment the people no longer, and Bardissi had yielded to his entreaties.
"Repair quietly to your homes, and fear no longer for your property. I interceded for you, and Bardissi gave me his solemn promise that the tax should not be enforced."
The spacious mosque resounds with shouts of delight. The people cry, "Long live Mohammed Ali!" All rush forward to grasp his hand and assure him of their friendship and devotion.
Mohammed feels that he has won the people by his shrewd course. Those who meet him in the streets salute him with reverence and devotion, and call down blessings on his head. When they meet the Mameluke beys, they look down and knit their brows; they have made themselves odious to the people, and are hourly becoming more and more detested by them. The thunder-clouds are gathering rapidly on the heads of the Mameluke beys. They see the coming storm in the angry looks of those who approach them; they feel it in the solitude that surrounds them. Curses are invoked upon their heads by the people, and not blessings, as upon Mohammed Ali's head.
Mohammed quietly prepares for the future; nothing is left to accident. No unlooked--for event must break in upon his plans, and destroy him with the rest. Let the fruit fall when ripe, and fall so deep into the abyss that no hand can pluck it thence!
The consuls have left Cairo, but after a few days the French consul returns secretly to the city, accompanied by the chief secretary of the governor, Courschid Pacha; at night and disguised, they glide stealthily through the streets of Cairo. They repair to the house of Mohammed Ali, and remain there in earnest and eager conversation with the sarechsme throughout the entire night. And again, as on the occasion of a former conference, the consul takes his departure before the dawn of day.
The governor's secretary remains with Mohammed. He still has a document to present to him, and Mohammed's eyes sparkle as he reads it.
"I have but one further request to make of his excellency."
"What is it, sarechsme? I am instructed to comply with your wishes in all things."
"I only wish to read the firman to Cousrouf myself."
"Let it be as you desire, sarechsme. If you ask this as a reward for your faithful services, it is a petty one indeed; you are, however, I believe, soon to receive a much greater one. When Courschid enters Cairo, he will appoint you a pacha of two tails."
Mohammed hastily averted his face, and made no reply. No one should see that the intelligence made him rejoice.
The fruit is ripe and ready to fall; the time for action has come.
On the following morning, a body of soldiers marches out and surrounds the quarter of the city in which the Mameluke beys reside.
Bardissi and Ismail have both left the citadel, and now dwell in the city. There they can live more comfortably and conveniently than up in the citadel; and the Mameluke beys are in the habit of attaching more importance to their comfort than the rest of the world. The quarter in which they reside is completely surrounded by soldiers. They do not notice it, however; these grand gentlemen are taking their ease in their palaces.
Bardissi is in his harem. He has consoled himself for Sitta Nefysseh's cruelty and coldness; the beautiful Georgian and Circassian slaves that throng his harem well know how to make him forget the past with their songs and dances, their sweet words and soft looks.
There he lies on his cushions, gazing dreamily at their dancing.
Suddenly a shot is heard, then a second follows, and a ball strikes the wall of his house.
Bardissi bounds from his cushions, and the dance is at an end. He rushes out into the court-yard to learn the cause of the firing. The street and square are filled with soldiers, and on the opposite
"Repair quietly to your homes, and fear no longer for your property. I interceded for you, and Bardissi gave me his solemn promise that the tax should not be enforced."
The spacious mosque resounds with shouts of delight. The people cry, "Long live Mohammed Ali!" All rush forward to grasp his hand and assure him of their friendship and devotion.
Mohammed feels that he has won the people by his shrewd course. Those who meet him in the streets salute him with reverence and devotion, and call down blessings on his head. When they meet the Mameluke beys, they look down and knit their brows; they have made themselves odious to the people, and are hourly becoming more and more detested by them. The thunder-clouds are gathering rapidly on the heads of the Mameluke beys. They see the coming storm in the angry looks of those who approach them; they feel it in the solitude that surrounds them. Curses are invoked upon their heads by the people, and not blessings, as upon Mohammed Ali's head.
Mohammed quietly prepares for the future; nothing is left to accident. No unlooked--for event must break in upon his plans, and destroy him with the rest. Let the fruit fall when ripe, and fall so deep into the abyss that no hand can pluck it thence!
The consuls have left Cairo, but after a few days the French consul returns secretly to the city, accompanied by the chief secretary of the governor, Courschid Pacha; at night and disguised, they glide stealthily through the streets of Cairo. They repair to the house of Mohammed Ali, and remain there in earnest and eager conversation with the sarechsme throughout the entire night. And again, as on the occasion of a former conference, the consul takes his departure before the dawn of day.
The governor's secretary remains with Mohammed. He still has a document to present to him, and Mohammed's eyes sparkle as he reads it.
"I have but one further request to make of his excellency."
"What is it, sarechsme? I am instructed to comply with your wishes in all things."
"I only wish to read the firman to Cousrouf myself."
"Let it be as you desire, sarechsme. If you ask this as a reward for your faithful services, it is a petty one indeed; you are, however, I believe, soon to receive a much greater one. When Courschid enters Cairo, he will appoint you a pacha of two tails."
Mohammed hastily averted his face, and made no reply. No one should see that the intelligence made him rejoice.
The fruit is ripe and ready to fall; the time for action has come.
On the following morning, a body of soldiers marches out and surrounds the quarter of the city in which the Mameluke beys reside.
Bardissi and Ismail have both left the citadel, and now dwell in the city. There they can live more comfortably and conveniently than up in the citadel; and the Mameluke beys are in the habit of attaching more importance to their comfort than the rest of the world. The quarter in which they reside is completely surrounded by soldiers. They do not notice it, however; these grand gentlemen are taking their ease in their palaces.
Bardissi is in his harem. He has consoled himself for Sitta Nefysseh's cruelty and coldness; the beautiful Georgian and Circassian slaves that throng his harem well know how to make him forget the past with their songs and dances, their sweet words and soft looks.
There he lies on his cushions, gazing dreamily at their dancing.
Suddenly a shot is heard, then a second follows, and a ball strikes the wall of his house.
Bardissi bounds from his cushions, and the dance is at an end. He rushes out into the court-yard to learn the cause of the firing. The street and square are filled with soldiers, and on the opposite