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And now go, Youssouf, and let this be my farewell greeting! Think of me when you go out to battle, think that your glory is my pride!" "I am going," said he, in a choking voice. "I am going, and to die, Sitta Nefysseh!" "To die? No, Youssouf," cried she. "No, not to die." "I must, for you drive me from you; you send me to confront the death-dealing bullets.
Disguised as a fellah, in the long blouse that hung down to his feet, entirely unarmed, a plain brown cap on his head, and carrying, suspended to a strap over his shoulder, a basket filled with watermelons, Kachef Youssouf entered the fortress of Damietta on the following morning. He called out his fruit, and people hastened to him to purchase.
My words are true. My kachef has never done such things; he is incapable of inciting any one to a breach of faith or to treason. He is the truest and best of my servants." "And yet it is true. Your kachef has incited my soldiers to treason. The viceroy says it is true!" cried Cousrouf. "Youssouf attempted to corrupt one of my own soldiers, an Armenian, urging him to go over to Osman Bardissi.
You know I liberated all my Mamelukes at my husband's death; and how could I, who have so few servants about me, dare to take a Mameluke bey into my service? No, such honor were too great for me. You, Youssouf Bey, must go out into the world again. You will still accomplish many great deeds, and do me honor.
"You may not return, Kachef Youssouf. I have long recognized that it ill became a young man to pass his days here in ease and quiet, while his friends, his brothers, are confronting the enemy on the battlefield.
I could endure not being the one if no other dared approach her. But here comes one of them already. He can approach her and speak of love. Woe is me!" With profound deference, and forcing his features into a smile, Youssouf approached Osman Bey Bardissi, who at this moment came into the court, mounted on his proud, splendidly-equipped steed, and followed by a body of his Mamelukes.
Do not think that it is base fear that drives me to despair. When going with my master to battle, I have never known fear. I am going away to die; I shall seek the enemy's bullets in the hope that they graciously relieve me of my miserable existence." "Youssouf," cried she, in tones of such pride and dignity that he started " Youssouf, I had supposed until now that I was your mistress."
His assistant, Little Youssouf, the Copt, squats outside of the tent, at one side of the door, to wash up the dishes and polish the Britannia-ware.
But, before he steps out, young Youssouf stands still, draws a long breath, and seems to summon all his resolution to his aid to resist the charm that carries him away. "If she knew that I watched her, she would drive me from her, and then Youssouf would die. Alas! she may not dream that I love her, she is proud and unapproachable, and what am I to her? The poor kachef of her deceased husband!
Youssouf Bey is his lieutenant, his favorite, and his master is desirous that he alone shall reap the golden fruit of victory. If he is defeated, Mohammed is to march to Youssouf's assistance with all possible speed.
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