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Updated: May 6, 2025
"No, Mohammed, you were not in your house; and Cousrouf Pacha well knows you were not. Do you know why? He lighted a lamp to look for you." "A lamp?" asked Mohammed. "Yes, a lamp! And do you know what this lamp consisted of? Of the house that stood opposite yours. They set it on fire, and knocked at your doors and window shutters to awaken you.
"O master, if it is in your power, I pray you to help me," cried the maiden, falling upon her knees before the pacha. "Be merciful! Deliver my father from his prison; deliver us all from fear and danger!" "What does all this mean?" asked Cousrouf, haughtily, turning to the tschorbadji, who had respectfully stepped aside.
Read!" The sarechsme unfolded the paper, and read in a loud voice the firman which deposed Cousrouf from the office of viceroy. "For he has performed its duties badly, and not proved worthy of our favor. He has been vanquished by rebels, and has sought safety in flight, instead of dying in the fulfilment of his duty.
As these were now opened, and Sitta Nefysseh appeared coming toward them in the midst of her escort, the people recognized her queenly figure and bearing, although her face was veiled. Shouts of delight rent the air. "Long live Sitta Nefysseh, and the cadi! Praised be Allah that we have a cadi who enforces our rights!" ` Cousrouf sat on his divan in his apartment.
On the square in front of Fort Lesbe, a column of soldiers, Cousrouf Pacha at its head, sitting proudly erect on his steed, still opposes them. He has been bravely fighting all along, fighting for life, for victory, for glory, but he has fought in vain; he prefers, however, to die at the head of his followers, than to flee, or fall into the hands of Mohammed Ali. The enemy approaches.
Mohammed, his head bowed down in profound reverence, withdraws to the door, walking backward. Cousrouf follows him with his eyes until the door has closed behind him, and then a smile glides over his countenance. "This man is won over to my interests. He is right; he is transformed, body and soul, and he is mine. And truly such a friend is a valuable possession."
Is not Cousrouf Pacha, the former viceroy, still in the country? Has he not fled to Upper Egypt? Have not his troops followed him there, and has not his reputation drawn many to his standard? And are there not many who refuse to submit to the Mameluke rule, and remain faithful to the flag of their master, Cousrouf Pacha, the Viceroy of Egypt?
But you shall see how Cousrouf Pacha punishes where no oath binds him, and how he avenges himself on those who dare to defy him and his authority. Yes, you shall see, and shall carry with you throughout life the remembrance of what you have seen. Thus Cousrouf avenges himself on you. Now look and hear. Incline your head a little, and look down at that cot on which the white figure lies.
"I can read a man's thoughts on his forehead, Mohammed, and I tell you sad thoughts are inscribed on yours." And with another shake of the head he continued: "The governor has, as you know, raised a body of three hundred soldiers; Osman has been appointed their captain, and yourself his lieutenant." "Cousrouf Pacha is a generous man," said Mohammed, in a peculiar tone.
The ship put out a boat, which came to the shore and landed a richly-attired officer who went up to Cavalla. He repaired to the palace and delivered a letter, secured with magnificent seals, to the tschorbadji. The letter was from Cousrouf Pacha to his host of former years. He had not been heard from since that time, and the tschorbadji had supposed himself long since forgotten.
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