Egypt -- History -- Mohammed Ali, 1805-1849 -- Fiction; Muhammad Ali Basha, Governor of Egypt, 1769-1849 -- Fiction
At last, on the third day, she sees him coming; pale and exhausted,
he totters toward her, and yet his bearing is defiant, and his eye
sparkles.
She hurries forward with extended arms to meet him. "Where have you
been, my beloved; where were you tarrying in the distance,
forgetting that a mother's heart was longing for you?"
He pressed his mother's hand to his lips, looking steadfastly into
her eyes. "I was with my future, Mother Khadra," said he in a low
voice. "I was with the days that are to come, the days when I shall
stand on the palace, a man, a hero, sword in hand, at my feet a
people looking up to me imploringly. You see, mother, your dream is
fulfilled, the hero who stands up there has again transformed
himself into your boy! He is here and greets you."
"But why is my boy pale and exhausted?" asked Sitta Khadra,
anxiously, as she clasped him in her arms.
"I don't know!" said he, wearily. "It seems to me that my feet
refuse to bear me longer, that something is drawing me upward. Let
us go to the hut, mother."
He grasped her arm hastily and led her away as though he were quite
strong, but Khadra observed that his lips trembled, and that his
face was pallid.
"He looks hungry," she murmured to herself. "Yes, I see he is
hungry! Buried in his thoughts, he has again forgotten to take
food."
She said no more, but walked hastily to the hut and led him in. "Son
of my heart, I have been awaiting you," said she, with an innocent
air. "I did not wish to partake of our simple supper until my son
had come home. Let us sit down and eat. Allah bless our meal!"
It does not escape her that his eye suddenly glitters as he looks at
the bread and dates brought yesterday by the boys as his tribute.
With a quick motion he stretches out his hand toward the fruit, but
suddenly withdraws it, as if ashamed of himself.
"It does not become children to seat themselves before their
parents, and eat before they have broken bread. Eat, mother; seat
yourself, and allow your son to wait on you."
That he might not feel hurt, she seated herself quickly and took
part of the fruit offered her. She handed him some, and now human
nature conquered the spirit, and he heartily ate of the fruit and
bread.
"Where were you, my boy? Light of my eyes, where were you?" asked
the mother.
"Up there among the rocks, and below on the shore," replied he,
smiling.
"Where did you find food there? I know that eagles, hawks, and
doves, find their food among the rocks, but for mankind there is no
food there."
"And I found none, Mother Khadra; I must learn to do with little, to
conquer hunger, and I fought with it for two days. See how I am
rewarded!--my food never tasted so deliciously before."
"Eat, my boy! Allah bless your food and drink! How fortunate that I
have something for your thirst, too! Uncle Toussoun Aga brought me
to-day a bottle of Cyprian wine, a present from Mr. Lion. You must
drink of it, my boy."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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