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Updated: June 19, 2025
'Malaish! he says, and buries his face in his yelek."
For me, thou hast taken my place, and more. Malaish, it is the decree of fate, and I have no anger. I come to ask thee to save my life, and then to give me work." "How shall I save thy life?"
Is not the truth the truth? Good-night! I had a brother who went to prison. His grave is by Stamboul. Good-night, effendi. He was too young to die, but he had gold, and the captain of the citadel needed money. So, he had to die. Malaish! He is in the bosom of God, and prison does not last forever. Goodnight, effendi. If you, effendi, are poor, it is well; no man will desire your life.
"Mizraim is in my power he acts for me," said Dicky. "Whose life is safe here save my own?" "Malaish! It shall be as your will is, Excellency," answered Selamlik Pasha, in a shaking voice; and he had time to wonder even then how an Englishman could so outwit an Oriental.
The order to cease firing and retreat sounded, and three thousand men hurried back to the cooking-pot, the sack of dourha, and the prayer mat. Malaish, if the infidel Inglesi was not conquered to-day, he should be beaten and captured and should die to-morrow! And yet there were those among them who had a well-grounded apprehension that the "Inglesi" would win in the end.
Mahommed Ibrahim took the little tin cup hanging by the tap, half filled it, drank it off, and noiselessly put the cup back again. Then he stood with his face towards the pistol. "The game is with the English all the time," said Dicky softly. "Malaish!" said Mahommed. "Jump," said Dicky.
Out through the doorway, up the stairs, then upon the moonlit deck, the cold muzzle of the pistol at the head of Mahommed Ibrahim. Dicky turned now, and faced him, the pistol still pointed. Then Mahommed Ibrahim spoke. "Malaish!" he said. That was contempt. It was Mahommedan resignation; it was the inevitable. "Malaish no matter!" he said again; and "no matter" was in good English.
For me, thou hast taken my place, and more. Malaish, it is the decree of fate, and I have no anger. I come to ask thee to save my life, and then to give me work." "How shall I save thy life?"
Mahommed Selim turned and whispered to the sergeant. "Backsheesh!" he said; "my grey Arab for a word with Yusef the ghaffir." "Malaish!" said the sergeant; and the soldiers cleared a way for Yusef. The palms of the men from Beni Souef met once, twice, thrice; they touched their lips, their breasts, their foreheads, with their hands, three times.
"Thou hast yet to learn the Eastern heart. When thou seest white in the East, call it black, for in an instant it will be black. Malaish, it is the East! Have I not trusted did I not mean well by all? Did I not deal justly? Yet my justice was but darkness of purpose, the hidden terror to them all.
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