THE MESSENGER.
Joy and merriment prevailed throughout the day in the village of Praousta; a continuous firing of guns was kept up, which delighted the boys, and terrified the sick, and the timid little girls. Joyous songs were sung, and, on the grand square before the mosque, men and women assembled for a dance.
The tambourine rang out merrily, and cymbals and flutes filled the air with sweet sounds.
A sail on the water was arranged for the afternoon, and the boats were gayly decked with flags for the occasion.
In the first large boat the sheik, the ulemas, and the leading men of the village, were reposing on carpets. Two boats containing the musicians followed; and then came, in four gayly-adorned ones, the women of the village, enveloped in their white veils, and greeting the men in the other boats with their bright eyes only. It was a beautiful spectacle. The sea itself seemed to rejoice over it; it murmured softly, and curled its waves caressingly upon the beach.
The governor, accompanied by his distinguished guest, Cousrouf Pacha, had come down to Praousta. Both were saluted from the boats with shouts of applause; handkerchiefs and caps were waved, and the blessing of Allah and of the prophet invoked upon their heads. But curses also resounded from time to time from their midst.
"These two gentlemen are kind-hearted. They saved us, and Mohammed Ali alone was the cause of all our trouble and anxiety. Woe to the traitor! He wished to make himself a name, to mount to honor and power upon our shoulders, though we should be ground down in the dust. Woe to him! woe to him ! The governor is kind, we have nothing to fear from him. Mohammed Ali alone is our foe--woe to him!"This was the cry from one to the other; all joined in it; they all raised their fists menacingly against Mohammed Ali. "May he hear our curses, and see our threatening hands! We will be avenged on him for what he has done to us. He shall be repaid for all the evil he has done to the sheik; of this he can rest assured. We have loved and been kind to him; we have treated him as if he were our child; he is indebted to us for all he is, and for all he can do. From us he learned to manage a boat, to use a gun--and thus has he rewarded us.
Woe to him!" This cry resounded again and again from boat to boat:
"Woe to him! Woe to Mohammed Ali, the son of Sitta Khadra!"But he heard nothing of all this; neither the curses, nor the laughter and shouts of joy. He had gone to his solitary resort on the rock above. There he was alone, without fear of being observed by the eyes of men. There no one could hear his wails of anguish.
There he was alone with wind and waves. Alas, how short a time had elapsed since he had stood there in joy and exultation! His soul had revelled in all the delights of the world, in all the glories of Paradise. Only a few hours had passed, and yet it seemed to him that he was entirely transformed, that he had became another man since then.
With what pious thoughts, with what ecstasy had he, that morning, greeted the rising sun! His heart had been filled with ineffable bliss; tears of delight had stood in his eyes. Now the evening is sinking down, the first evening after that blissful sunrise, and vanished is all he had gloried in; lost, all he believed he had won.
A white dove had fluttered down from heaven, he had seen a fair swan full of innocence and loveliness at his side; and now, the white dove had transformed itself into a monster, and the fair swan had become an evil spirit. Yes, an evil spirit had assumed the form of a swan, and cast a wicked spell over his heart, and now--O Mohammed, learn to suffer! Rend yourself with your agony; press your hands convulsively to your breast till the blood trickles out from your finger-nails; cry out in your anguish, till the eagle, aroused in his nest, looks out with greedy eyes after the poor creature that has dared to disturb the king of the air! Let curses resound from the quivering lips that are as pale as those of the dead! Curse the swan for having become a ghin; the white swan for having transformed herself into a cat, and then awake from your despair. Behold her standing before you with the sweet expression on her delicate features, with the blushing cheeks as you raise the veil, with the crimson lips that grow more crimson still as yours touch them.
Behold her, in all her loveliness, and kneel down on the place where she stood, and passionately kiss the earth her feet have touched.
Bless her in your love, and curse her in the anger of your hatred!
First love is passionate in its bliss, burning its agony, and agony and bliss, fury and delight, are all pouring through your soul, and giving you the baptism of pain, making of the youth a man.
"Tear love from my soul, and enable me to tread it under foot!" he cries out fiercely, as he now rises from the place he had just touched with his lips. "Root out these memories from my breast, spirit of my mother! She to whom I here prayed, and swore fidelity, has proved untrue. Strike blind the eyes of my soul, that they may no longer see this horror! Make deaf my ears, that I may no longer hear the sweet voice that sounds like heavenly music! What was it she said, what were her words?
"'I will be thine, and love no other but thee!' she said. 'By my mother's spirit, I swear to you that no other man shall lift this veil from my face; I will be thine, alone!'
"It was music when she said it. It filled my heart with heavenly joyousness. And now it proves to have been evil spirits only, who had come up from the deep to deceive a poor heart! Oh, these memories, they will follow me like a black shadow throughout life.
In wild merriment and conflict, I shall be able to hush them in the noisy day; but, in the stillness of the night, they will come back to charm--no, to tear my heart! O Masa, Masa, what have you done!"Overwhelmed with his agony, he sank to the ground, and kissed again and again the place where she had stood, and wept aloud.
"Mohammed!" suddenly exclaimed a voice behind him. "Mohammed Ali!
