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Updated: May 10, 2025
"Farewell, Sandy," said my man, grasping the Pasha's hand warmly, and speaking in a deeply impressive tone; "take the advice of a wery old friend, who 'as your welfare at 'art, an' leave off your evil ways, w'ich it's not possible for you to do w'ile you've got fifty wives, more or less, shaves your 'ead like a Turk, and hacts the part of a 'ypocrite.
"Lancey, my boy it is quite refreshing to use these old familiar words again, I am no more a Mohammedan than you are." "Then you're a 'ypocrite," replied the other promptly. "By no means, at least I hope not," said the Pasha, with a smile and a slightly troubled look. "Surely there is a wide space between a thoroughly honest man and an out-and-out hypocrite. I came here with no religion at all.
You're such a sinful old 'ypocrite, that you play-act before yourself, I do believe. What is it you do mean? You myke anyone sick of you; your incense and your burnt sacrifices are an offence unto me. This Mr. 76 once put a knife into me, and I mean to put another into him: 'ow's that?" "Not now!" "'Ow about your sweet friend, Frankl? I'm under contract with him, ain't I?"
But he recovered and with a kind of gasp he squeezed out a few more words: "Bill, forgive me for insulting you to-day I didn't mean it, Bill. Forget it, Bill, forget it! If you get killed without forgiving me, my conscience will always torture...." "For Christ's sake shut up, yer bleed'n' 'ypocrite," interrupted the gruff voice of "Bill" somewhere out of the darkness.
Sometimes a faint explanation gurgled out with the tears: "Poor Eve! her dear little face was working so not to cry. Oh! oh! I should not have minded so much if she had cried right out." Then, again, it was "Poor Mrs. Wilson! I was only a week with her, for all her love. I have made a c at's p paw of her oh!" Then, again, "Uncle Bazalgette has never noticed us; he thinks me a h h ypocrite."
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