Egypt -- History -- Mohammed Ali, 1805-1849 -- Fiction; Muhammad Ali Basha, Governor of Egypt, 1769-1849 -- Fiction
"It seems to me that no one is privileged to offer Mourad Bey's
widow presents of such value," said she, almost severely. "Yet," she
continued in milder tones, "I will not humiliate him who was my
husband's friend and companion. I will accept your gifts; they shall
be placed in the saloon, and all the world shall see how L'Elfi Bey
seeks to honor the widow of his former chieftain and friend. Thus
will I accept your gifts, and give you thanks for them!--Come, Osman
Bardissi!" she continued in louder tones, beckoning to the bey, who
stood without in the shade of an oleander-tree--"come and see the
magnificent presents which L'Elfi Bey has brought me from England!"
L'Elfi's countenance darkened, and he recoiled a step almost in
anger. "What! Osman Bey is here?"
"And why not? He has recovered from the wounds received at Aboukir.
Does it not become him to pay his respects to me? He has this
privilege in common with yourself."
"True, my queen; pray forgive me for daring to find fault with your
pleasure.--I greet you, Osman Bey Bardissi. I am glad to see you
here! And now, I pray you, let me also see the gifts which you have
brought the Rose of Cairo in token of your reverence and devotion.
What becomes you, becomes me also; and, as Sitta Nefysseh has
allowed you to see what I have brought, she will not refuse to
permit me to see the offering of your devotion."
"You shall see it, L'Elfi Bey," said Osman, in a somewhat derisive
tone. He stepped to the lattice-work of the kiosk, and, plucking the
most beautiful crimson rose he could see, knelt down before Sitta
Nefysseh and laid it at her feet. "This, Sitta, is my gift. I lay at
your feet, the most beautiful of your sisters, your image!"
She smiled. "I thank you, Osman Bey, and gladly accept your
offering, for Allah has created it."
He handed her the rose. She took it, held it to her face, and
inhaled its fragrance. She then gracefully fell back on her cushion.
"Arise, Bardissi!" said she. "I have accepted the gifts of both of
you; and, now that you are both the same in sentiment, but one thing
is wanting."
"And what is this one thing still wanting?"
"Grasp each other's hands," said she, smiling. "I know that you have
long been at enmity with each other; discord prevails in the land of
my great beys. Let hatred now be set aside. You are both mighty and
renowned, but your power will be much greater if you join hands. Let
your followers see that you stand united against the common enemy.
Oh, how can the fatherland be saved when its defenders are at enmity
with each other! The enemy has grown stronger. You know that new
troops have arrived here from Turkey, and a man is at their head, of
whom I will announce to you that he is dangerous. Therefore grasp
hands, and let me see that you are friends!"
"Then let it be so," said Bardissi, after a pause. "See, Sitta
Nefysseh, how great your power over me.--Here, L'Elfi, my hand! Let
us unitedly face the enemy!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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