The slave opens a secret door that leads into a narrow passage and upon the outer wall of the citadel. Motioning to the slave to remain in the passage, Cousrouf steps out, and then stands still, astonished at the splendid spectacle that lies before him. Spread out at his feet lies the holy Mazr, with all its minarets and towers. Farther on lies a whole city of cupolas--these are the graves of the caliphs; they rear their heads proudly aloft in the sunlight, congratulating the new ruler on his magnificence; but also reminding him of the perishable nature of all earthly glory--the saying of a certain wise man "Thou first and mightiest of mortals, be thankful that thou art alive!""I thank thee, Allah, that I am alive, and I bow down in humility before thee!" murmurs Cousrouf, reverently. He then again looks out with delight upon the landscape that lies before him. There, in a wide curve, winds the river Nile like a silver ribbon, innumerable decorated boats and barks dancing upon its surface. Here all is life and animation, beyond the Nile reigns a solemn stillness; for a certain distance from the river bank stand stately palm-trees, and then suddenly, sharply defined beside the green fields, begins the yellow sand. That is the desert--that is the mysterious theatre of so many adventures throughout the ages, the receptacle of so much hidden wealth, the great burying-ground of the unknown dead. There, on the horizon, where the yellow sand and the blue sky meet, stand the pyramids of Gheezeh, and farther on, in the purple distance, the pyramids of Sakkara.
"A world lies at my feet, and I am the ruler of this world. I have attained my aim," says he to himself. "All is fulfilled; but one thing is left to wish for. O Allah, grant me still many years in which to enjoy this magnificence!"Once more he glances around at the beautiful landscape before him, and then, conducted by the slave, returns to his private apartments.
He lies on his cushions, listening to the shouts of the delighted multitude without.
Suddenly the curtain that covers the doorway is noiselessly withdrawn, and a slave announces that a messenger from the capitan pacha, accompanied by a bim bashi, stands in the antechamber, awaiting his pleasure.
"What is the messenger's name?" asks Cousrouf, wearily.
"Hassan Aga, master, bim bashi of the capitan pacha.""And his favorite," murmurs Cousrouf to himself. "Let Hassan Aga enter."At the slave's call the messenger enters, bows his head to the ground, and hands his master's letter to the viceroy.
"Do you know its contents?" asks Cousrouf, slowly opening the letter.
"Yes, highness. It is a farewell letter from my master, who leaves to-morrow for Stamboul."For an instant a smile glides over Cousrouf's countenance; but then it assumes a sad expression. "The capitan pacha is about to depart--to leave me."
"He wishes to leave to you alone the honor of having laid subjugated Egypt at the feet of his master the grand-sultan, in Stamboul. He has done what lay in his power. The most dangerous Mamelukes have fallen beneath his blows. Shall I narrate to your highness how it was done?"Cousrouf signifies his assent. Hassan hastily relates the bloody story of the assassination of the Mamelukes in the roadstead of Aboukir, Cousrouf listening with the greatest attention. "The capitan pacha has erected a bloody but a great monument to himself,"says be, when Hassan has finished his narrative. "Yet it is questionable whether I shall be benefited by it. It would, perhaps, have been wiser to reconcile ourselves with the Mamelukes, than to excite them to new anger.""Highness, reconciliation with the Mamelukes is impossible," replies Hassan. "The capitan pacha, who has ever been faithful in your service, wishes to give you a final proof of his friendship.""And in what does this proof consist?" asks Cousrouf.
"He sends your highness a hero who has the determination to do all things, and the capacity to do all he determines. He gave evidence of his courage and address at Aboukir. The capitan pacha can leave you no better token of his friendship than this young hero, who is entirely devoted to you. May I present this last best gift of the capitan pacha; may I present to your highness the young bim bashi?"The pacha nods his assent, and Hassan noiselessly withdraws, returning in a few moments, accompanied by the young bim bashi, so warmly recommended to the viceroy. Cousrouf Pacha wearily raises his head and casts a glance of indifference at the tall figure of the bim bashi; but as his glance falls on the young man's countenance, he starts. It seems, to him that he has seen those eagle eyes before. He hastily casts his eyes down, and then looks up again at the bim bashi, who holds his head proudly erect, awaiting the viceroy's address.
"What is your name, bim bashi? Where do you come from?" asks Cousrouf, after along pause.
The bim bashi advances a step, and, looking steadily in the viceroy's countenance, bows profoundly. "My name is Mohammed Ali, and I come from Cavalla.""Cavalla!" repeats Cousrouf, with a start. Now he remembers that he has sometimes seen these eyes before him in sleepless nights. They have impressed themselves deeply into his heart with their fearful glances. The haughty pacha had never reproached himself for killing the slave Masa--that was his right; he acted according to law when he punished the runaway slave by death--but it was cruel to compel the man who loved her to witness her death. Cousrouf had felt this at the time, and that was why these eyes had penetrated his heart like daggers' points. But that was long ago, and these eyes are now very different. They no longer glitter with curses; they now sparkle with animation, energy, and courage, only.
