Mohammed Ali and His House [98]
of your friendly consideration.-- Take hold now, ye dogs, and bear your master into the room!"
He walked beside the couch while the slaves bore it into the room, and deposited it, at his command, beside his own cushions.
"Now come, too, tschorbadji, and seat yourself at our side, and let us smoke the chibouque together for the last time."
"The pipe of peace, Cousrouf Pacha, as the savages do when seated together for the last time in their wigwam," said Osman, smiling.
The pacha cast a searching glance at him.
"Tschorbadji, you have a very learned son. I know nothing of such things, have never heard of them. Who smoke the pipe of peace?"
"The savages in America, when they become reconciled to their enemies, and receive them in their wigwam."
"But that has no application to us. In the first place, we are not savages, but very respectable and considerable people; and secondly, I trust I am not receiving enemies here, with whom it is necessary to smoke the pipe of peace."
"Certainly not, but very faithful friends and devoted servants, who have come to bid you a last farewell."
"You are right, tschorbadji, a last farewell, I trust," said the pacha, laughing. "For (and forgive me for saying so) it is horribly dull here in your city of Cavalla. Your revolutionary fishermen and the rest of the rabble here would make my life intolerable. I admire you, tschorbadji, for having the courage to bear it--and particularly you, my dear Osman. You should endeavor to obtain some position in Stamboul. There you would recover your health; the rude sea air here is assuredly injurious to your weak lungs."
"I wish he would do so," said the tscborbadji, with a sigh. "You are certainly right, the keen sea air, and the rough storms that often surge down from the mountains are injurious to my son, but it is different in Stamboul, where one is protected from the surrounding mountains. I wish he would go to Stamboul, and that you would assist him in obtaining a suitable position there."
"Father," replied Osman, gently, "I will not separate myself from you. Wherever you are there will I remain, for we two are inseparable."
"Then a better place must be found for your father, Osman."
"If that could be, excellency, I should be happy indeed!" cried the governor.
"I am under obligations to you, tschorbadji," observed the pacha, bowing haughtily. "I am really greatly in your debt. With all my servants I have been your guest for three years, and I vainly urged you to accept payment. Indeed, I hardly dared speak of it to the wealthy and distinguished tschorbadji, and it was not fitting to attempt to remunerate him, But yet, I assure you, this weight of gratitude rests heavily on me. I have accepted your hospitality without recompense for these three long years. Now, however, tschorbadji, now that Cousrouf Pacha is about to return to Stamboul, he can at last repay this burden of gratitude and debt. You are my friend, and I now beg you to tell me of something I can do for you. Cousrouf Pacha now has power and influence which he will exert for those he loves. Therefore I entreat you, tschorbadji, acquaint me with your wishes."
"I have no other wishes than those of my son. They call me here an affectionate father, and mention me as an example of passionate paternal love, and they are right. My Osman is every thing to me; he is my wife, child, sister, friend, comrade, my all. What Osman wishes that is my wish also. Therefore, if it so pleases you, transfer your gracious favor to my son, and grant his request, if he has one to prefer."
"I swear by my beard, by Allah, and by the prophet, if Osman expresses a wish, I will grant it certainly and surely. I repeat my triple oath, and call Allah to witness it. What he requests I will grant!"
"You have heard this oath, father, and Allah has heard it, too," said Osman, solemnly rising from his couch and turning the gaze of his large luminous eyes full on the pacha's countenance. "I have a wish, a great, a cherished wish."
"And can I grant it?"
"You can if you will."
He walked beside the couch while the slaves bore it into the room, and deposited it, at his command, beside his own cushions.
"Now come, too, tschorbadji, and seat yourself at our side, and let us smoke the chibouque together for the last time."
"The pipe of peace, Cousrouf Pacha, as the savages do when seated together for the last time in their wigwam," said Osman, smiling.
The pacha cast a searching glance at him.
"Tschorbadji, you have a very learned son. I know nothing of such things, have never heard of them. Who smoke the pipe of peace?"
"The savages in America, when they become reconciled to their enemies, and receive them in their wigwam."
"But that has no application to us. In the first place, we are not savages, but very respectable and considerable people; and secondly, I trust I am not receiving enemies here, with whom it is necessary to smoke the pipe of peace."
"Certainly not, but very faithful friends and devoted servants, who have come to bid you a last farewell."
"You are right, tschorbadji, a last farewell, I trust," said the pacha, laughing. "For (and forgive me for saying so) it is horribly dull here in your city of Cavalla. Your revolutionary fishermen and the rest of the rabble here would make my life intolerable. I admire you, tschorbadji, for having the courage to bear it--and particularly you, my dear Osman. You should endeavor to obtain some position in Stamboul. There you would recover your health; the rude sea air here is assuredly injurious to your weak lungs."
"I wish he would do so," said the tscborbadji, with a sigh. "You are certainly right, the keen sea air, and the rough storms that often surge down from the mountains are injurious to my son, but it is different in Stamboul, where one is protected from the surrounding mountains. I wish he would go to Stamboul, and that you would assist him in obtaining a suitable position there."
"Father," replied Osman, gently, "I will not separate myself from you. Wherever you are there will I remain, for we two are inseparable."
"Then a better place must be found for your father, Osman."
"If that could be, excellency, I should be happy indeed!" cried the governor.
"I am under obligations to you, tschorbadji," observed the pacha, bowing haughtily. "I am really greatly in your debt. With all my servants I have been your guest for three years, and I vainly urged you to accept payment. Indeed, I hardly dared speak of it to the wealthy and distinguished tschorbadji, and it was not fitting to attempt to remunerate him, But yet, I assure you, this weight of gratitude rests heavily on me. I have accepted your hospitality without recompense for these three long years. Now, however, tschorbadji, now that Cousrouf Pacha is about to return to Stamboul, he can at last repay this burden of gratitude and debt. You are my friend, and I now beg you to tell me of something I can do for you. Cousrouf Pacha now has power and influence which he will exert for those he loves. Therefore I entreat you, tschorbadji, acquaint me with your wishes."
"I have no other wishes than those of my son. They call me here an affectionate father, and mention me as an example of passionate paternal love, and they are right. My Osman is every thing to me; he is my wife, child, sister, friend, comrade, my all. What Osman wishes that is my wish also. Therefore, if it so pleases you, transfer your gracious favor to my son, and grant his request, if he has one to prefer."
"I swear by my beard, by Allah, and by the prophet, if Osman expresses a wish, I will grant it certainly and surely. I repeat my triple oath, and call Allah to witness it. What he requests I will grant!"
"You have heard this oath, father, and Allah has heard it, too," said Osman, solemnly rising from his couch and turning the gaze of his large luminous eyes full on the pacha's countenance. "I have a wish, a great, a cherished wish."
"And can I grant it?"
"You can if you will."