It is well that the curtains are drawn over the windows of the carriage, and that no one can see the tears that burst from Sitta Ada's eyes, or hear the sighs that escape her breast.
"Oh that I had remained in Cavalla! This cold splendor alarms me!
Would that Mohammed had received me quietly, pressed me to his heart and said, `Welcome, Ada--welcome to my heart and home!"Is she welcome? He rejoices in his sons, now growing up to manhood and soon to accompany him to battle and become heroes. In his joy over his sons, he has forgotten the wife who is now approaching the citadel with her brilliant suite. He is first reminded of her presence by the thunder of the guns that announce her arrival at the citadel. The reception must, however, be completed. He has arranged every thing with the master of ceremonies, who is to conduct his queen into the grand audience-chamber to the throne that stands on a scaffold under a purple canopy.
Ada's heart trembles as she approaches it, and her thoughts are with the house in Cavalla. Oh that Mohammed Ali had returned to live with her there! "Departed are all the sweets of domestic happiness for poor Ada!" a voice whispers in her heart.
The women now come forward, four at a time, and with loud congratulations lay the presents at her feet, the golden dishes, the jewelled buckles, the gold-inworked cloths, and every thing that delights the heart of woman. With kindly words Ada thanks them for their gifts, hardly realizing what they are. She thanks Allah when the affair is concluded, and the master of ceremonies approaches, and with a deferential bearing requests her to descend from the throne, and walk to the door that leads to the inner apartments. It alarms her to walk between the long rows of women who bow low as she passes. But behind the door are the private apartments, and there she will be alone. This thought cheers her as she walks on unconscious that a number of female slaves are following her to the private apartments. Those who fill such exalted stations as that of the wife of the Viceroy of Egypt, know no solitude, not even in their private apartments. The slaves now gather around her, fall on their knees, and swear to serve her faithfully, and her first maid asks if her gracious mistress will now retire to the toilet-chamber to change her dress. She dares not refuse, and allows herself to be conducted thither, where the most splendid garments lie in readiness for her. She makes no selection, but permits her women to dress her as they think proper. This is at last concluded, and one of them now announces that she may enter the private apartments, where his highness the viceroy is to receive her.
Her heart throbs wildly, like the heart of a young girl, as she enters the apartment. At the entrance she stands still, timidly.
Alas! he is not yet there--the room is empty. The viceroy makes no haste to greet his wife.
The door now opens, and Mohammed Ali enters.
Ah! she would hardly have recognized him; to her he seems quite changed. His countenance is so radiant, his bearing so proud, so splendid his gold-embroidered uniform, so gracious the smile with which he advances to meet her, so gracious the manner in which he extends his hand and smiles on her.--Ada is conscious that it is the viceroy, the good friend, who stands before her; but the husband it is not.
"Welcome, dear Ada!" he says, in kindly tones. Ah! she is familiar with these loveless tones. "Welcome, dear Ada; I rejoice heartily to see you again after this long separation."She takes his hand, presses it in her own, and looks at him earnestly.
"Yes, after so long a separation; do you know how long we have been separated? Do you feel it in your heart?""I well know bow long, Ada. We have been separated five years," he replies, with a kindly smile. "You see five years have effected great changes.""Yes," murmurs she, releasing his hand. "They have brought about great changes. I see it, Mohammed.""But, dear Ada, my heart and my affection for you are unchanged," he says, gently. "I shall ever honor you, Ada, as my first wife, as the mother of my first-born sons. Yes, as my first wife."She bows her head. She understands the tone with which Mohammed had pronounced that fearful word. Yes, she understands it, and bows her head in humility. And what would opposition avail her? The law of the prophet allows the man to have several wives. Love is fleeting, and its ardor soon passes away after marriage. Friendship is the successor of love, and men say this is happiness.
The women sigh, and bow their heads in silence.
What would it avail Ada to rise in arms against Mohammed's words, "My first wife"?
"Yes, Ada, you will ever remain my first wife, the honored mother of my sons. You will ever remain my friend."Yes, that was the word. She closes her eyes and shudders.
"'Tis well. Your friend, Mohammed! I will not, however, honor you as my friend, but as my lord, and as the man I have loved alone and best on earth!"He gently encircles her neck with his arm, and impresses a kiss on her forehead. Such a kiss as makes the heart of the woman who loves writhe in anguish.
Now he begins to speak to her, in gay tones, of his handsome, manly sons.
"They shall come to greet their mother; they are waiting in the next room."He walks hastily to the door, opens it, and the three boys enter, each holding a small package wrapped in paper in his hand.
"What do you bring me, boys!" asks Mohammed, seating himself on a divan, and calling them to his side.
"What do we bring you, father?" says the eldest, Ibrahim. "We have brought you keepsakes from Cavalla, and with them we wish to show you that we have learned something, and have endeavored to imitate you. The merchant, Lion, has often told me how daring a boatman you were, and I determined to learn to manage a boat and defy the treacherous waves, also."The viceroy regards his son with a radiant smile. The boy's sparkling eyes gladden his heart and inspires it with high hopes.
