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Updated: May 5, 2025
"I shall go to Uncle Toussoun Aga and tell him how to call me. Only promise me, mother, that, if you need me, and are not able to call yourself, you will send for uncle and tell him to do so. I could otherwise have no peace; could not attend to my work and occupation, unless I knew that you would have me called to you when you need me." "It shall be so, my son.
When he had imitated him in a loud, shrill voice, Mohammed smiled and nodded approvingly. "That will do. And if I should be ever so distant and hear this cry, I will come home to mother. But tell me, Uncle Toussoun Aga, tell me, by all that is holy, by the prophet and by the name of Allah, tell me the truth: is my mother ill?"
How fortunate that I have something for your thirst, too! Uncle Toussoun Aga brought me to-day a bottle of Cyprian wine, a present from Mr. Lion. You must drink of it, my boy." He shook his head. "No, Sitta Khadra, I will not drink of the wine sent you by the noble merchant to restore your strength. Water from the well, from the spring of life, is a better drink for me.
I bring your son," said Toussoun Aga, as he entered, with the boy, the hut into which some kind- hearted women had brought Mohammed's mother. "Scold the naughty youth well, and tell him what anxiety he has caused us all." Sitta Khadra, however, did not scold him, but only extended her open arms, drew her son to her bosom with a joyous cry, and kissed him tenderly.
"No, I will not! This is unheard of!" cried the fisherman, angrily. "Just as you please," said Mohammed, quietly. "You would rather lose the whole, than save half, and the nets besides. Consider well that Toussoun Aga has perhaps made his last nets, and that yours were quite new, and the finest quality he ever made."
When I need you, you shall be called, and now do not allow yourself to be disturbed in your occupations. Fly out, young eagle, out into the air, out among the rocks, and learn from heaven and earth what to do to prepare for your future." She kissed his brow and laid her hand on his head in a blessing. Mohammed kissed this hand, and then sprang to his feet and went to his old uncle Toussoun Aga.
What triumph shone in his eyes, what an expression of energy in the bearing of a boy scarcely ten years old! "That was it!" exclaimed Toussoun Aga, in a reproachful tone. "For this reason my brother's son risked his life, and caused his mother and all of us so much anxiety. Allah forgive you! You are a wild, defiant boy." "No, uncle," cried the boy; "no, I am not wild and defiant.
It aroused Mohammed from his meditation. "Strange! I heard the cry, yet I can nowhere see the eagle that uttered it." For the second time it resounds, louder and more piercing than before. Mohammed shudders in his whole being. The cry is not that of an eagle. It is a human voice. Toussoun has uttered it, and it announces that his mother is in danger.
"Entirely alone?" asked the old man, regarding him reproachfully. "As long as Toussoun Aga lives, his nephew, Mohammed Ali, is not entirely alone." Mohammed held out his hand. "Thanks, uncle." He nodded to the old man, turned away, and sprang off over the rocks with such rapid bounds that old Toussoun looked after him in amazement. "He leaps like a gazelle.
He is completely changed; his cheeks are pallid and his eyes dim. Ada also observes this change with dismay, and calls her sons to her side. Aroused by her voice, Mohammed awakens from his stupor, and waves his hand as if to ward off some spectre. "And what have you brought me, Ismail? and you, Toussoun?" "We have also brought you keepsakes from Cavalla," they reply.
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