Mohammed Ali and His House [91]
embroidered veils, or silken shawls? What is it you want?"
Somewhat confused and embarrassed, Mohammed looks at the merchant and hardly knows what to say.
"Then let me have a carpet; I wish to spread it out in my room. I have, until now, changed nothing in my hut, but have left it just as it was when Sitta Khadra lived in it. Now, however, it seems to me that it would not perhaps become the boulouk bashi to continue to live so wretchedly."
"Yes, the old story--with office comes pride," said the merchant, laughing. "The boulouk bashi, of course, needs carpets and all sorts of furniture. Here is an arm-chair inlaid with mother-of-pearl; does it suit? Here are Persian carpets; the colors are a little faded, and you can have them at a low price."
"No, nothing with faded colors. Let me have your most beautiful carpet! Let the ground be white and covered with flowers, with roses and violets; and I wish, too, they could have life and fragrance!"
"Oho, Mr. Boulouk Bashi!" cried the merchant, laughing, and raising his finger threateningly. "Now the secret is out; you are in, love! This carpet is not for yourself, but for some beautiful woman. Ah, yes, I have heard something about this affair before, and now I know it is true."
"What have you heard, sir? What is it that is said of me?" asked Mohammed, gravely, his countenance suddenly darkening.
"Well, people ask why it is that Osman, the tschorbadji's son, is so very affectionate to you, and why the governor himself has always so distinguished you, and now made you boulouk bashi?"
"I had supposed it was because I deserved it," said Mohammed, hastily, "and I thought Osman showed his affection because he loved the friend who had grown up with him."
"He assuredly does love you, and the tschorbadji also rewards you on account of your merit, or he would not have done so at all, and would not have chosen you for what he desires of you."
"And what does he desire of me? For what has he chosen me?"
"It is said he wishes you to become the husband of the beautiful Marina, his niece."
"I do not even know this lady," said Mohammed, shrugging his shoulders.
"You do not know her, but she perhaps knows you," said the merchant, smiling. "She is very beautiful, it is said. She is married, as you are aware, to my rival, the merchant across the street, I have observed that this fair lady opens her shutters, to peep out at Mohammed, whenever he passes by. The neighbors say this is why her husband has become jealous, and threatens to drive her away, if she continues to look after the young men. You now perceive, Mohammed, that Marina, the tschorbadji's niece, has an eye on you, and perhaps even two, and that her husband knows it. The peace of the house has thus been broken on your account, and the people say the tschorbadji will now take his niece home again, and that you are to marry her afterward. It is a good match, Mohammed, a very good match. I shall be disappointed if you do not marry this lady. She is rich, very rich; and are you aware that, with your epaulets, your uniform, and your handsome sword, you must have money. Moreover, my son, he who intends to rise in the world must have a great deal of money! It is not through his own merit that a man is advanced. If he is poor, he remains in the dust. You know I have offered to assist you, but you refused me because you did not wish to accept benefits, and you were right. My advice you can, however, accept; and my advice is, marry the beautiful, the rich Marina, when her husband divorces her, and sufficient time has elapsed. She is very young, younger than you; my young friend Mohammed numbers eighteen years, and the tschorbadji's young niece only fifteen. Take my advice, and preserve your heart until it is time to let its wings grow, and then stretch out your hand after the fair Marina."
"Thanks for your advice," cried Mohammed, laughing.
Never before had the merchant heard him laugh so heartily; never before had he seen him make such a display of his white teeth. Until to-day, Mohammed had been a remarkably
Somewhat confused and embarrassed, Mohammed looks at the merchant and hardly knows what to say.
"Then let me have a carpet; I wish to spread it out in my room. I have, until now, changed nothing in my hut, but have left it just as it was when Sitta Khadra lived in it. Now, however, it seems to me that it would not perhaps become the boulouk bashi to continue to live so wretchedly."
"Yes, the old story--with office comes pride," said the merchant, laughing. "The boulouk bashi, of course, needs carpets and all sorts of furniture. Here is an arm-chair inlaid with mother-of-pearl; does it suit? Here are Persian carpets; the colors are a little faded, and you can have them at a low price."
"No, nothing with faded colors. Let me have your most beautiful carpet! Let the ground be white and covered with flowers, with roses and violets; and I wish, too, they could have life and fragrance!"
"Oho, Mr. Boulouk Bashi!" cried the merchant, laughing, and raising his finger threateningly. "Now the secret is out; you are in, love! This carpet is not for yourself, but for some beautiful woman. Ah, yes, I have heard something about this affair before, and now I know it is true."
"What have you heard, sir? What is it that is said of me?" asked Mohammed, gravely, his countenance suddenly darkening.
"Well, people ask why it is that Osman, the tschorbadji's son, is so very affectionate to you, and why the governor himself has always so distinguished you, and now made you boulouk bashi?"
"I had supposed it was because I deserved it," said Mohammed, hastily, "and I thought Osman showed his affection because he loved the friend who had grown up with him."
"He assuredly does love you, and the tschorbadji also rewards you on account of your merit, or he would not have done so at all, and would not have chosen you for what he desires of you."
"And what does he desire of me? For what has he chosen me?"
"It is said he wishes you to become the husband of the beautiful Marina, his niece."
"I do not even know this lady," said Mohammed, shrugging his shoulders.
"You do not know her, but she perhaps knows you," said the merchant, smiling. "She is very beautiful, it is said. She is married, as you are aware, to my rival, the merchant across the street, I have observed that this fair lady opens her shutters, to peep out at Mohammed, whenever he passes by. The neighbors say this is why her husband has become jealous, and threatens to drive her away, if she continues to look after the young men. You now perceive, Mohammed, that Marina, the tschorbadji's niece, has an eye on you, and perhaps even two, and that her husband knows it. The peace of the house has thus been broken on your account, and the people say the tschorbadji will now take his niece home again, and that you are to marry her afterward. It is a good match, Mohammed, a very good match. I shall be disappointed if you do not marry this lady. She is rich, very rich; and are you aware that, with your epaulets, your uniform, and your handsome sword, you must have money. Moreover, my son, he who intends to rise in the world must have a great deal of money! It is not through his own merit that a man is advanced. If he is poor, he remains in the dust. You know I have offered to assist you, but you refused me because you did not wish to accept benefits, and you were right. My advice you can, however, accept; and my advice is, marry the beautiful, the rich Marina, when her husband divorces her, and sufficient time has elapsed. She is very young, younger than you; my young friend Mohammed numbers eighteen years, and the tschorbadji's young niece only fifteen. Take my advice, and preserve your heart until it is time to let its wings grow, and then stretch out your hand after the fair Marina."
"Thanks for your advice," cried Mohammed, laughing.
Never before had the merchant heard him laugh so heartily; never before had he seen him make such a display of his white teeth. Until to-day, Mohammed had been a remarkably