Mohammed Ali and His House [93]
Mohammed is now left alone in his mother's hut.
An old woman is sitting just opposite the hut. She was there when he entered, smoking a short pipe, her arms crossed on her knees. She looked about carelessly, only now and then casting a glance at the house of the young boulouk bashi, who had locked himself in.
Mohammed had thought nothing of her presence. What cared he for the old woman there on the stone, smoking her pipe?
When, after a short time, he steps out of his hut, she stretches out her hand and begs for alms.
Hardly looking at her, he draws a copper coin from his pocket, gives it to her and walks on.
The old woman keeps her seat, and mutters a few words to herself.
Mohammed walks on rapidly.
A boy is skipping along on the other side of the street, whistling a merry air.
What does this concern Mohammed? He walks on down the street on the one side, the boy follows him on the other.
Mohammed heeds the boy as little as he had heeded the old woman. What does he care for the boy, who seems wholly absorbed in his musical efforts?
He entered the store of the merchant, who dealt in all kinds of provisions; in olives, meats, chocolate, sugar, and eggs. Mohammed purchases some of all these articles, and it amuses and astonishes the merchant to see the young officer become, of a sudden, his own housewife. But he does not venture to say so, or ask any questions; Mohammed's grave looks and bearing forbid any attempt at raillery.
A servant is ordered to put the things in a basket, and take them to his house.
As he walks out of the store again, he hears the boy's shrill whistling in the distance. He pays no attention to this, and walks on quietly. The whistling suddenly ceases, and the boy, who had posted himself in the vicinity, so that Mohammed could not see him on coming out, now runs after him, stepping close to the basket in passing; he casts a quick, searching glance at the articles it contained, as if taking note in expectation of being called on to give an account of its contents.
The old woman is still sitting opposite Mohammed's house, reposing there, apparently, after smoking her pipe. Her head is thrown back, resting against the door, and her eyes are closed; she seems to be sleeping.
CHAPTER X
THE DEPARTURE.
A new and great event occupied the attention of the inhabitants of Cavalla and Praousta on the following morning. A large and magnificent ship had entered the harbor during the night, a vessel of the Turkish navy: its dark-red flag, with the grand-sultan's crown on its dark field, showed it to be such. The sailors were attired in glittering uniforms, and on the deck stood a tent embroidered with gold, beneath it a luxurious couch of swelling cushions. The ship was still handsomer than the one on which Cousrouf Pacha had arrived three years before. But then he had come to Cavalla as an exile, and had not been sent away with the same ceremony with which they were now prepared to welcome him back. For it is already known, and the intelligence has rapidly spread, that this ship has come from Stamboul to convey Cousrouf Pacha back to his home; and, therefore, was it so festively decorated with flags, and carpets, and garlands of flowers.
His friend the grand-admiral, Hussein Pacha, has been working in his interest, and the sunlight of his master's favor is once more shed upon the head of the exile.
With great dignity Cousrouf received the captain, who bowed profoundly before him, while those who accompanied him threw themselves upon the ground, touching the earth with their foreheads. He received the imperial missive with perfect composure, opened it, and inclined his head with a gracious expression of countenance, as though he were dispensing and not receiving a favor.
"'Tis well, captain--I am ready! Our most gracious emperor and master has written to me, and as he WISHES"--(he emphasized this word; the sultan only expresses a wish, he does not command Cousrouf Pacha)--"as he wishes me to return to Stamboul with all convenient speed, keep every thing
An old woman is sitting just opposite the hut. She was there when he entered, smoking a short pipe, her arms crossed on her knees. She looked about carelessly, only now and then casting a glance at the house of the young boulouk bashi, who had locked himself in.
Mohammed had thought nothing of her presence. What cared he for the old woman there on the stone, smoking her pipe?
When, after a short time, he steps out of his hut, she stretches out her hand and begs for alms.
Hardly looking at her, he draws a copper coin from his pocket, gives it to her and walks on.
The old woman keeps her seat, and mutters a few words to herself.
Mohammed walks on rapidly.
A boy is skipping along on the other side of the street, whistling a merry air.
What does this concern Mohammed? He walks on down the street on the one side, the boy follows him on the other.
Mohammed heeds the boy as little as he had heeded the old woman. What does he care for the boy, who seems wholly absorbed in his musical efforts?
He entered the store of the merchant, who dealt in all kinds of provisions; in olives, meats, chocolate, sugar, and eggs. Mohammed purchases some of all these articles, and it amuses and astonishes the merchant to see the young officer become, of a sudden, his own housewife. But he does not venture to say so, or ask any questions; Mohammed's grave looks and bearing forbid any attempt at raillery.
A servant is ordered to put the things in a basket, and take them to his house.
As he walks out of the store again, he hears the boy's shrill whistling in the distance. He pays no attention to this, and walks on quietly. The whistling suddenly ceases, and the boy, who had posted himself in the vicinity, so that Mohammed could not see him on coming out, now runs after him, stepping close to the basket in passing; he casts a quick, searching glance at the articles it contained, as if taking note in expectation of being called on to give an account of its contents.
The old woman is still sitting opposite Mohammed's house, reposing there, apparently, after smoking her pipe. Her head is thrown back, resting against the door, and her eyes are closed; she seems to be sleeping.
CHAPTER X
THE DEPARTURE.
A new and great event occupied the attention of the inhabitants of Cavalla and Praousta on the following morning. A large and magnificent ship had entered the harbor during the night, a vessel of the Turkish navy: its dark-red flag, with the grand-sultan's crown on its dark field, showed it to be such. The sailors were attired in glittering uniforms, and on the deck stood a tent embroidered with gold, beneath it a luxurious couch of swelling cushions. The ship was still handsomer than the one on which Cousrouf Pacha had arrived three years before. But then he had come to Cavalla as an exile, and had not been sent away with the same ceremony with which they were now prepared to welcome him back. For it is already known, and the intelligence has rapidly spread, that this ship has come from Stamboul to convey Cousrouf Pacha back to his home; and, therefore, was it so festively decorated with flags, and carpets, and garlands of flowers.
His friend the grand-admiral, Hussein Pacha, has been working in his interest, and the sunlight of his master's favor is once more shed upon the head of the exile.
With great dignity Cousrouf received the captain, who bowed profoundly before him, while those who accompanied him threw themselves upon the ground, touching the earth with their foreheads. He received the imperial missive with perfect composure, opened it, and inclined his head with a gracious expression of countenance, as though he were dispensing and not receiving a favor.
"'Tis well, captain--I am ready! Our most gracious emperor and master has written to me, and as he WISHES"--(he emphasized this word; the sultan only expresses a wish, he does not command Cousrouf Pacha)--"as he wishes me to return to Stamboul with all convenient speed, keep every thing