Mohammed Ali and His House [225]
"Do so, close my lips and eyes again!"
"Well, then, I shall do so," he says, taking the gold-embroidered cloth and throwing it over her face. "I do so, Butheita, because I am not willing the rude wind should kiss the cheek of my beloved; unwilling the stars should gaze down on you in your loveliness, unwilling the moon should adorn your countenance with its lustre. I, alone, will adorn you; I, alone, will gaze on your loveliness; and my sighs, alone, shall kiss your cheeks! Yes, Butheita, you belong to me alone, and shall be my slave, as I am your slave, and yet your master. Shake your head if you will. I am your master, for you love me. You shake your head again? You mean to say you hate me! I don't believe it.--Onward, my dromedary, speed through the desert! Onward, my Alpha!"
The dromedary moves on still more rapidly over the desert; its shadow dances beside them on the sand, and behind them the shadow of the Nubian's steed.
The moon grows pale, the stars vanish; day is beginning to dawn. As the sun rises, they reach their destination.
The dromedary stops at the little gate at the end of the park. Achmed dismounts, and opens the gate. Mohammed has lifted Butheita from the palanquin, and now carries his precious burden into the park.
All are asleep in the palace. The two glide softly through the park to the door of the harem. Achmed unlocks it, and Mohammed ascends the stairway with noiseless footsteps. No one hears or sees him. Achmed hastens back to care for the horse and the dromedary. Mohammed carries the precious burden, that lies quietly in his arms, through the suite of glittering apartments. Butheita sees nothing of the splendor through which they pass, and, if she saw it, would not heed it.
What cares she for gilded rooms! the desert puts on more glorious attire with each day's dawn, and nothing can be more sublime than the sphinx near the great pyramids. He who has seen that is astonished at nothing else; to him all things in the houses of men seem petty.
Mohammed is aware of this, and he understands the heart of the girl he bears in his arms; he now enters the large room at the end of the apartments of the harem. Here he gently lays her down, and locks the door. The sun has risen and gilds with its light the lattice-work of the windows, throwing little crimson circles on the mat that covers the floor. Mohammed unties the silken scarf that binds Butheita's feet, and assists her to stand up.
He also unties the scarf that binds her hands, and she now stands before him with her face veiled. He gently removes the cuffei from her head. Her large black eyes glance around the wide space, and she sees the tent that looks exactly like her father's. She turns her eyes on Mohammed with a loving glance. He draws her to his heart.
"Are you still resolved, Butheita, that he only shall kiss you who leads you to his tent as his wife. And will you only allow him to kiss you at the door of the tent?"
"I am still so resolved!" she exclaims, but in joyous tones. "I am still so resolved!"
Mohammed lifts her in his arms and carries her to the tent.
"Butheita, this is my tent! I lead you into it as my wife. Butheita, may I now kiss you?"
She makes no answer, but, with a loud cry, throws herself upon his breast, and kisses him passionately. Mohammed encircles Butheita with his arms, and bears her into his tent.
CHAPTER XVII
CONCLUSION.
THE citadel presents a scene of great animation; its apartments, especially those in which the viceroy's eons are to reside, are richly adorned and hung with flowers. All the doors are thrown open, and a number of richly-attired female slaves are standing in the hall at the head of the grand stairway which is covered with costly carpets from Damascus.
The citadel has put on festive attire in honor of the wife and sons of the viceroy Mohammed Ali, who are expected to arrive to-day.
The people are repairing in vast numbers to Boulak on the shore of the Nile, where the viceroy is to receive his family, and it is whispered among them that she who
"Well, then, I shall do so," he says, taking the gold-embroidered cloth and throwing it over her face. "I do so, Butheita, because I am not willing the rude wind should kiss the cheek of my beloved; unwilling the stars should gaze down on you in your loveliness, unwilling the moon should adorn your countenance with its lustre. I, alone, will adorn you; I, alone, will gaze on your loveliness; and my sighs, alone, shall kiss your cheeks! Yes, Butheita, you belong to me alone, and shall be my slave, as I am your slave, and yet your master. Shake your head if you will. I am your master, for you love me. You shake your head again? You mean to say you hate me! I don't believe it.--Onward, my dromedary, speed through the desert! Onward, my Alpha!"
The dromedary moves on still more rapidly over the desert; its shadow dances beside them on the sand, and behind them the shadow of the Nubian's steed.
The moon grows pale, the stars vanish; day is beginning to dawn. As the sun rises, they reach their destination.
The dromedary stops at the little gate at the end of the park. Achmed dismounts, and opens the gate. Mohammed has lifted Butheita from the palanquin, and now carries his precious burden into the park.
All are asleep in the palace. The two glide softly through the park to the door of the harem. Achmed unlocks it, and Mohammed ascends the stairway with noiseless footsteps. No one hears or sees him. Achmed hastens back to care for the horse and the dromedary. Mohammed carries the precious burden, that lies quietly in his arms, through the suite of glittering apartments. Butheita sees nothing of the splendor through which they pass, and, if she saw it, would not heed it.
What cares she for gilded rooms! the desert puts on more glorious attire with each day's dawn, and nothing can be more sublime than the sphinx near the great pyramids. He who has seen that is astonished at nothing else; to him all things in the houses of men seem petty.
Mohammed is aware of this, and he understands the heart of the girl he bears in his arms; he now enters the large room at the end of the apartments of the harem. Here he gently lays her down, and locks the door. The sun has risen and gilds with its light the lattice-work of the windows, throwing little crimson circles on the mat that covers the floor. Mohammed unties the silken scarf that binds Butheita's feet, and assists her to stand up.
He also unties the scarf that binds her hands, and she now stands before him with her face veiled. He gently removes the cuffei from her head. Her large black eyes glance around the wide space, and she sees the tent that looks exactly like her father's. She turns her eyes on Mohammed with a loving glance. He draws her to his heart.
"Are you still resolved, Butheita, that he only shall kiss you who leads you to his tent as his wife. And will you only allow him to kiss you at the door of the tent?"
"I am still so resolved!" she exclaims, but in joyous tones. "I am still so resolved!"
Mohammed lifts her in his arms and carries her to the tent.
"Butheita, this is my tent! I lead you into it as my wife. Butheita, may I now kiss you?"
She makes no answer, but, with a loud cry, throws herself upon his breast, and kisses him passionately. Mohammed encircles Butheita with his arms, and bears her into his tent.
CHAPTER XVII
CONCLUSION.
THE citadel presents a scene of great animation; its apartments, especially those in which the viceroy's eons are to reside, are richly adorned and hung with flowers. All the doors are thrown open, and a number of richly-attired female slaves are standing in the hall at the head of the grand stairway which is covered with costly carpets from Damascus.
The citadel has put on festive attire in honor of the wife and sons of the viceroy Mohammed Ali, who are expected to arrive to-day.
The people are repairing in vast numbers to Boulak on the shore of the Nile, where the viceroy is to receive his family, and it is whispered among them that she who