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Mehmet was one alone. He will unload the goods first; then, when his men will be near enough, he will tell Fanutza to run towards them. Let Mehmet come to take her if he dare! A violent jerk woke the gipsy girl from her sleep. She looked at the two men but said nothing.
It has taken twenty years of my life to save such a sum yet, instead of accepting your offer, I will give you the same sum for the woman I want." "Fool, a woman is only a woman. They are all alike," roared the gipsy. "Not to me!" answered Mehmet Ali quietly. "I shall not say another word." "Fool, fool, fool," roared the gipsy as he still tried to catch Fanutza's eye. It was already too dark.
"If Mehmet is tired my arms are strong enough to help if he wishes," remarked Marcu. "No, I am not tired, but I should like my friend to know that I think it is not fair." There was a long silence during which the boat was carried downstream although it was kept in the middle of the river by skilful little movements of the boatman. Fanutza looked at the Tartar.
The artificial dealings of a government trying to imitate European methods, and the assistance of the Franks, the introduction of the census and of taxes, of duties and monopolies, standing armies and conscriptions, the barter of offices and the leasing of custom houses, slavery and the vices of the east, together with the energy, indomitable will and marvelous luck of Mehmet Ali, all combined in one grand achievement I mean the monumental tyranny, never yet equalled, under which the fellahs today are groaning in Egypt and the Arabs in Syria, and under which a whole country has been transformed into a private domain, and a whole people into personal slaves.
His manner was so detached that the gipsy chief thought the Tartar had already forgotten what had passed between them in the morning. Sure enough. Why! He was an old man, Mehmet Ali. It was possible he had been commissioned by some Dobrudgean Tartar chief to buy him a wife. He had been refused and now he was no longer thinking about her.
Come, you shall have all your silks." The Greek accompanied them to the door. The cart that had brought the merchandise to the boat of the waiting Mehmet was returning. "The water is thickening," the driver greeted the gipsy and his daughter. They found Mehmet Ali seated in the boat expecting his passengers.
The gipsy chief had already bought all the food for his men and horses and a few extra blankets and had ordered it all carted to the moored boat where Mehmet Ali was waiting, when Fanutza reminded her father of the silks and linen he wanted to buy. "I have not forgotten, daughter, I have not forgotten." Fanutza approached the counter behind which the Greek stood ready to serve his customers.
"All, save the ones with blood of Chans in their veins," said Mehmet Ali who had put himself between the girl and the whole of her tribe. And the Tartar's words served as a reminder to Marcu that Fanutza's own mother had been the daughter of a Tartar chief and a white woman. By MAXWELL STRUTHERS BURT
But every time he had gone to Mehmet Ali's hut and asked the Tartar to row him across the Danube, on the old Roumanian side, to buy there fodder for the horses and the men; enough to last until after the river was frozen tight and could be crossed securely with horses and wagon.
Remember that beautiful Circassian girl?" the Tartar continued without raising or lowering his voice. "Yes, Mehmet, we buy wives but we don't sell them." "Which is not fair," Mehmet reflected aloud still in the same voice. By that time they had reached the river shore. Mehmet, after rolling together the oil cloth that had covered the boat, helped the gipsy chief and his daughter to the stern.
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