Mohammed Ali and His House [228]
there--the room is empty. The viceroy makes no haste to greet his wife.
The door now opens, and Mohammed Ali enters.
Ah! she would hardly have recognized him; to her he seems quite changed. His countenance is so radiant, his bearing so proud, so splendid his gold-embroidered uniform, so gracious the smile with which he advances to meet her, so gracious the manner in which he extends his hand and smiles on her.--Ada is conscious that it is the viceroy, the good friend, who stands before her; but the husband it is not.
"Welcome, dear Ada!" he says, in kindly tones. Ah! she is familiar with these loveless tones. "Welcome, dear Ada; I rejoice heartily to see you again after this long separation."
She takes his hand, presses it in her own, and looks at him earnestly.
"Yes, after so long a separation; do you know how long we have been separated? Do you feel it in your heart?"
"I well know bow long, Ada. We have been separated five years," he replies, with a kindly smile. "You see five years have effected great changes."
"Yes," murmurs she, releasing his hand. "They have brought about great changes. I see it, Mohammed."
"But, dear Ada, my heart and my affection for you are unchanged," he says, gently. "I shall ever honor you, Ada, as my first wife, as the mother of my first-born sons. Yes, as my first wife."
She bows her head. She understands the tone with which Mohammed had pronounced that fearful word. Yes, she understands it, and bows her head in humility. And what would opposition avail her? The law of the prophet allows the man to have several wives. Love is fleeting, and its ardor soon passes away after marriage. Friendship is the successor of love, and men say this is happiness.
The women sigh, and bow their heads in silence.
What would it avail Ada to rise in arms against Mohammed's words, "My first wife"?
"Yes, Ada, you will ever remain my first wife, the honored mother of my sons. You will ever remain my friend."
Yes, that was the word. She closes her eyes and shudders.
"'Tis well. Your friend, Mohammed! I will not, however, honor you as my friend, but as my lord, and as the man I have loved alone and best on earth!"
He gently encircles her neck with his arm, and impresses a kiss on her forehead. Such a kiss as makes the heart of the woman who loves writhe in anguish.
Now he begins to speak to her, in gay tones, of his handsome, manly sons.
"They shall come to greet their mother; they are waiting in the next room."
He walks hastily to the door, opens it, and the three boys enter, each holding a small package wrapped in paper in his hand.
"What do you bring me, boys!" asks Mohammed, seating himself on a divan, and calling them to his side.
"What do we bring you, father?" says the eldest, Ibrahim. "We have brought you keepsakes from Cavalla, and with them we wish to show you that we have learned something, and have endeavored to imitate you. The merchant, Lion, has often told me how daring a boatman you were, and I determined to learn to manage a boat and defy the treacherous waves, also."
The viceroy regards his son with a radiant smile. The boy's sparkling eyes gladden his heart and inspires it with high hopes.
"I rejoice in you, Ibrahim, and expect you to become a hero," cries Mohammed. "Continue. You were resolved to defy the waves--"
"Yes, father, and I did learn to make the waves obey me, and I became the best boatman in Praousta. I also learned to dive, and no diver could surpass me. To prove what I say, I have brought you this keepsake. I brought it up from the depths of the sea; it was tied up in a bag. I dragged it to the shore and opened it. And what do you suppose it contained, father? Only think, a skeleton! As these were the first things I had taken out of the deep as a diver I have brought you something out of the bag as a keepsake. Here it is, I-- lay it at your feet."
"From the depths of the sea? " repeated the viceroy, with pallid cheeks. "Tell me, Ibrahim, were you diving off the shore of Praousta?"
"Yes, father. You know the shore
The door now opens, and Mohammed Ali enters.
Ah! she would hardly have recognized him; to her he seems quite changed. His countenance is so radiant, his bearing so proud, so splendid his gold-embroidered uniform, so gracious the smile with which he advances to meet her, so gracious the manner in which he extends his hand and smiles on her.--Ada is conscious that it is the viceroy, the good friend, who stands before her; but the husband it is not.
"Welcome, dear Ada!" he says, in kindly tones. Ah! she is familiar with these loveless tones. "Welcome, dear Ada; I rejoice heartily to see you again after this long separation."
She takes his hand, presses it in her own, and looks at him earnestly.
"Yes, after so long a separation; do you know how long we have been separated? Do you feel it in your heart?"
"I well know bow long, Ada. We have been separated five years," he replies, with a kindly smile. "You see five years have effected great changes."
"Yes," murmurs she, releasing his hand. "They have brought about great changes. I see it, Mohammed."
"But, dear Ada, my heart and my affection for you are unchanged," he says, gently. "I shall ever honor you, Ada, as my first wife, as the mother of my first-born sons. Yes, as my first wife."
She bows her head. She understands the tone with which Mohammed had pronounced that fearful word. Yes, she understands it, and bows her head in humility. And what would opposition avail her? The law of the prophet allows the man to have several wives. Love is fleeting, and its ardor soon passes away after marriage. Friendship is the successor of love, and men say this is happiness.
The women sigh, and bow their heads in silence.
What would it avail Ada to rise in arms against Mohammed's words, "My first wife"?
"Yes, Ada, you will ever remain my first wife, the honored mother of my sons. You will ever remain my friend."
Yes, that was the word. She closes her eyes and shudders.
"'Tis well. Your friend, Mohammed! I will not, however, honor you as my friend, but as my lord, and as the man I have loved alone and best on earth!"
He gently encircles her neck with his arm, and impresses a kiss on her forehead. Such a kiss as makes the heart of the woman who loves writhe in anguish.
Now he begins to speak to her, in gay tones, of his handsome, manly sons.
"They shall come to greet their mother; they are waiting in the next room."
He walks hastily to the door, opens it, and the three boys enter, each holding a small package wrapped in paper in his hand.
"What do you bring me, boys!" asks Mohammed, seating himself on a divan, and calling them to his side.
"What do we bring you, father?" says the eldest, Ibrahim. "We have brought you keepsakes from Cavalla, and with them we wish to show you that we have learned something, and have endeavored to imitate you. The merchant, Lion, has often told me how daring a boatman you were, and I determined to learn to manage a boat and defy the treacherous waves, also."
The viceroy regards his son with a radiant smile. The boy's sparkling eyes gladden his heart and inspires it with high hopes.
"I rejoice in you, Ibrahim, and expect you to become a hero," cries Mohammed. "Continue. You were resolved to defy the waves--"
"Yes, father, and I did learn to make the waves obey me, and I became the best boatman in Praousta. I also learned to dive, and no diver could surpass me. To prove what I say, I have brought you this keepsake. I brought it up from the depths of the sea; it was tied up in a bag. I dragged it to the shore and opened it. And what do you suppose it contained, father? Only think, a skeleton! As these were the first things I had taken out of the deep as a diver I have brought you something out of the bag as a keepsake. Here it is, I-- lay it at your feet."
"From the depths of the sea? " repeated the viceroy, with pallid cheeks. "Tell me, Ibrahim, were you diving off the shore of Praousta?"
"Yes, father. You know the shore