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Updated: May 25, 2025
Poor Youssouf, you will then be shut out from our ranks, for Sitta Nefysseh no longer sends her Mamelukes with us to battle; she now uses them for her service only, and I am certain she would be well pleased if her kachef Youssouf, as it becomes him, draws his sword to win laurels in the field. You can make something great of yourself.
Look at me, Youssouf: I was what you are; like you a Mameluke, also like you a kachef, and could let my beard grow, and now I am a Mameluke bey, and three thousand servants follow me to battle. You might accomplish as much, Youssouf." "I am satisfied with what I am, and ask for nothing more," replied the kachef.
He is a warrior, and only knows how to write indelible characters on the faces of his enemies with his sword; and, believe me, I should recognize these characters if they were inscribed on your face I should recognize the handwriting of my kachef; but the characters on that paper are not his." "Truly, Sitta Nefysseh, your audacity is great!" cried Cousrouf.
"That is to say, O mistress, you intend to drive me from you; you wish to proclaim to the world that Kachef Youssouf is a faithless coward!" "Who dare say that?" cried she, her eyes sparkling with anger. "Do you not suppose all the world will point their fingers at me when I return?
There he stands on the other bank, dripping with water, his wet blouse clinging to his person. He hastened to the camp to Bardissi, to bring the glad intelligence that there is a place where they can cross on foot to the other shore in spite of the cannon on the bridge, and of the garrison of Damietta. "Well done, brave kachef!" cried Bardissi.
The conflict begins, a fierce conflict, the musketry rattles, and carries death into the ranks of both. Erect on his war-horse Bardissi leads the van. He fights his way through, his sword mows down the enemy like the scythe of death. Youssouf, his faithful kachef, rides beside him. Like Bardissi, he fights like a lion, and hews with his trusty sword a pathway through the enemy's ranks.
The kachef chatted gayly with them in the Arabian tongue, and told them of the enemy who was approaching, but who could find no passage over the canal; and Youssouf laughed at and derided the enemy. They quickly observed that he was a faithful servant of the viceroy, and therefore chatted with him unreservedly.
Cousrouf did not comply with her request. He folded the paper, and laid it on the table again. "It is unnecessary that you should read it. I insist that your kachef endeavors to corrupt my soldiers and induce them to desert to Bardissi's camp. This is clearly treason.
You yourself acknowledge that the master is justly responsible for his servants' actions, and I repeat it: your kachef has endeavored to draw my soldiers from their allegiance, to corrupt them. I have accused you of nothing else." "Yes, you have more than accused me of other crimes!" cried she, throwing back her veil, her eyes sparkling with indignation. "Look at me!
"Is your mistress at home?" asked Bardissi, springing lightly to the ground, and throwing the purple-silk reins to the Mameluke who hurried forward. "Yes, Sitta Nefysseh is in the park. She is resting in the kiosk, and I will announce to the female slaves that Osman Bey Bardissi wishes to see their mistress." "Do so, Kachef Youssouf," said Bardissi. "But first listen to me.
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