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Mohammed Ali and His House [230]

By Root 954 0
his hand on Masa's tresses again; he looks at the cup, and sits there motionless, absorbed in thought, for a long time.

His whole past rises up before him. He is once more at home, on the rude rock where he spent his youth.

He sees every thing once more; sees, also, the pale face of his Osman, of his dear friend.

He is dead--his sons have told him that Osman is dead.

"It is well for him that he is, he suffered much," he murmurs, in low tones. "I, also, have suffered much. And yet I have also experienced much happiness, and shall probably do so in the future, also," he continues, in louder tones. "Sink down behind me, past! the future is mine. And now be strong, Mohammed; arise and be a man! The past is at an end! Masa, you have to-day sent me a greeting through my sons. Farewell! Now I belong to the present and to the future. Farewell!"

He rises, walks with firm footstep through the apartment, and enters the room where Ada and his sons are awaiting him.

"Come, my sons, I will show you my capital, the most beautiful of all cities--I will show you Cairo. Come!"

He takes his sons by the hand, and, alas! he forgets the poor woman who is regarding him tenderly, and down whose cheeks two tears slowly trickle as the door closes behind him.

Mohammed leads his sons through the long suite of splendid apartments, which they regard with wonder, into the grand reception- chamber, and steps out with them upon the balcony. The beautiful city of Cairo now lies spread out before them. Over there glitters the Nile, like a silver ribbon, and beyond tower aloft the wondrous forms of the great Pyramids of Gheezeh.

A cry of delight escapes the lips of the boys. "Oh, how beautiful, how glorious, father!"

"Yes, beautiful is Cairo; beautiful is Egypt, my sons. All that you see spread out before you is mine. I am the ruler of Egypt; you shall be its rulers after me, and our house shall become great and glorious. This I swear, by Allah! I will not, like my predecessors, be deposed from my throne and descend the hill on which stands the proud citadel of Cairo. I swear, by Allah, that my house shall continue to rule over Egypt, and it shall be inscribed in the books of history: 'Mohammed Ali was the first free viceroy of Egypt, and his sons succeeded him on the throne.' Swear to me, my sons, that you will one day become good and just rulers over Egypt!"

"We swear that we will, father! We will one day become good and just rulers over Egypt!" the three boys reply, as with one voice, their eyes sparkling, their countenances radiant with the light of high resolve.

"You have heard it, Allah!" cries the father, in solemn tones, his head bowed down, his right hand uplifted. "I will firmly establish the rule of my house, and my sons have sworn to become good and just rulers. Then be thou, also, our gracious ruler, and with thy great prophet, Mohammed, look down with favor upon the four human beings who stand humbly in thy presence! Not the vassal of the grand-sultan at Stamboul, but the free, independent viceroy, will I be, and after me shall my sons rule--this I swear! Seal thou my resolve with thy blessing, O Allah!"







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