"Farewell, Butheita," he cried. She did not answer; she did not wish to go out, as he might see her tears, and her father, too, might observe them. She therefore remained silent. She had drawn the curtain over the entrance to the inner apartment, and lay on the mat weeping; weeping and laughing at the same time, for joy and pain--ecstasy and pain were contending for victory in her heart. "He is gone, gone! and yet he is ever with me."The dromedary flew over the desert still more swiftly than in the morning, his feet hardly touching the ground; clouds of sand were whirled aloft, and enveloped the animal and the riders as with a thick veil. No one saw them, and, had any one seen them, he could not have told who they were.
Arrived at the boundary line of the desert, where two horses awaited them, the sheik halted. Having dismounted with Mohammed, he addressed a few loud words to the dromedary; it turned, and flew homeward across the desert.
"It knows the way," said the sheik, smiling. "It will return alone to Butheita."They mounted the horses, and rode on swiftly through meadows, and palm and sycamore groves.
The sheik now drew rein. "Do you see that black line standing out against the evening sky? That is your camp. If you desire it, I will accompany you farther. It rests with you to decide.""I will ride on alone, sheik. Farewell, and accept this for your hospitality."He held out to the sheik a purse filled with gold-pieces. The latter proudly rejected it.
"With one breath you say things that do not agree with each other.
You wish to pay me, and yet you say you have enjoyed my hospitality.
The guest does not pay, unless it be with love and friendship. If you pay me in that way, I shall rejoice, and Butheita also, I know.""O sheik, I thank you both for your hospitality, and will love you and hold you in good remembrance. Farewell, sheik!"He pressed his knees to his horse's flanks and rode off in a rapid gallop. Evening had already sunk down when he approached the plain where his soldiers lay encamped. He dismounted, and left his horse to return alone. He then glided stealthily to the rear of his tent, and, raising the canvas, slipped in. No one was in this apartment where his couch lay, but in the first one he heard loud voices. His officers were speaking of him. They were making anxious inquiries and conjectures as to where the general might be, and were considering whether they should make further search for him or break up camp and return to Cairo. They were the voices of his bim bashis and boulouk bashis. Smiling, he listened for a time to their conversation. He then drew back the curtain and stepped into the outer apartment. A joyous shout greeted his entrance. They eagerly rushed forward, and anxiously inquired where he had been, the meaning of his absence, and if any evil had befallen him.
He gazed at them haughtily.
"Am I, the general, to be called to account by you, my officers?"They instantly ceased speaking, and saluted him with profound obeisance.
"I know," continued he, in milder tones, "that sympathy for me prompted your inquiries, and will therefore tell you where I have been. I rode last night, entirely alone, to Damanhour, where I knew Youssouf Bey lay with his men. I wished to learn if we could reach them in time, and therefore rode with the wings of the wind. When Ireached their camp, the battle had already begun. It was too late to march to Youssouf Bey's assistance. I therefore did what I could, drew my sword and fought in the ranks as a common soldier. The day was adverse; the Turkish army lies defeated on the plain of Damanhour! Now let us remain here and wait. If the victors, the Mameluke beys, feel disposed to try their fortune in another battle, by Allah they shall find us ready to receive them! But, if they do not show themselves by tomorrow, we will turn and march back to Cairo. Now go and announce to the soldiers what has taken place."They bowed profoundly, and the deference and silence with which they now left the tent were in marked contrast with their previous noisy behavior. The general knew how to impress them with a sense of his superiority; they all recognized in him a great man, and felt his iron hand on their necks. All now grows still in the camp. The soldiers retire to rest, and Mohammed also sinks down on his mat to repose, and, if possible, to sleep after so much fatigue and excitement.
But sleep refused to come at his bidding. He arose and walked to and fro in his tent for a long time. At first he was merely the loving man, and beheld only Butheita's countenance; but the hero in him soon gained the upper hand. Mohammed profoundly considered Osman Bey's words, and how he must shape his future. His keen vision had observed and made him acquainted with the men who surrounded him, and with the relations to which he must now either conform or against which be must now rise in arms. He had been in a state of doubt and hesitation all along; his future was enveloped in a thick veil, and he was not aware what shape his destiny was to take; yet he had closely observed all. He bad seen that poor Egypt was a plaything of ambition, of rapacity, of intrigue--a prey for all.
Nowhere in the midst of this reign of intrigue and passion had he seen law and justice prevail. He saw only a province trodden under foot, a bleeding land, that must perish in its citizens, unless a deliverer should come who knew how to bind up and heal its wounds.
Could he be its deliverer? Was it his mission to raise up the downtrodden people from the dust, to erect for himself a throne upon the ground that smoked with the blood of so many victims? Was this his mission, and was there a way that would lead him up the steep ascent to the throne? All this he considered earnestly and profoundly throughout the entire night, and, when the rising sun had dispelled the clouds of the morning, it was clear, too, in his soul.
He saw the way he must go to reach his goal.
