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In his uncivilised soul Mahommed Hassan felt this murmur, and even as he sat waiting to know whether a little army would steal out of the south like phantoms into this circle the Saadat had drawn round him, he kept humming to himself had he not been, was he not now, an Apollo to numberless houris who had looked down at him from behind mooshrabieh screens, or waited for him in the palm-grove or the cane-field?
On the instant he saw the trap for the Saadat and for himself. "He would not do it not for money, pasha." "He would not be doing it for money. The time is not ripe for it, it is too dangerous. There is a time for all things. If he will but wait!" "I wouldn't like to be the man that'd name the thing to him. As you say, he's got his prejudices. They're stronger than in most men."
And the Saadat looks as though he was ready for his grave, but keeps going, going, going. He never seems to sleep. What keeps him alive I don't know. Sometimes I feel clean knocked out myself with the little I do, but he's a travelling hospital all by his lonesome. Later. I had to stop writing, for things have been going on several.
"Behold, Saadat from Ebn Ezra Bey," Mahommed said. The man drooped beside him. David caught a tin cup from a shelf, poured some liquor into it, and held it to the lips of the fainting man. "Drink," he said. The Arab drank greedily, and, when he had finished, gave a long sigh of satisfaction. "Let him sit," David added.
But the Saadat, he's a wonder from Wondertown. With a little stick, or maybe his flute under his arm, he'll smile and string these heathen along, when you'd think they weren't waiting for anybody. A spear took off his fez yesterday.
He started below, and met David on the way up. He waited till David had mounted the roof, then he pointed. "Now, Saadat!" he said. "They have stolen in?" David peered into the misty whiteness. "They are almost in, Saadat. Nothing can stop them now." "It is well done. Go and ask Ebn Ezra effendi to come hither," he said.
It's only a chance; but everything's chance here now. Anyhow, it's safer than leaving it till the scrimmage. If you get this, won't you try and make the British Government stand by the Saadat? Your husband, the lord, could pull it off, if he tried; and if you ask him, I guess he'd try. I must be off now. David Pasha will be waiting. Well, give my love to the girls! Your affectionate cousin,
When the Saadat went to them, his eyes blazing, his face pale as a sheet, and as good as swore at them, and treated them as though he'd string them up the next minute, they only put their hands on their heads, and said they were "the fallen leaves for his foot to scatter," the "snow on the hill for his breath to melt"; but they wouldn't give him any satisfaction.
Amad us-Saudat. A history of the Viceroys of Lucknow from the death of Farokhsiar to the accession of Saadat Ali II., in 1797. Jam-i-Jum. Genealogical tables of the House of Timur. Tasallat-i-Sahiban Anqriz. An account of the rise of British power in Hindustan and Bengal.
You see, David the Saadat is great on moral suasion he's a master of it; and he's never failed yet not altogether; though there have been minutes by a stop-watch when I've thought it wouldn't stand the strain. Like the Mississippi steamboat which was so weak that when the whistle blew the engines stopped!
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