"These poor wretches must suffer for it!" he murmured to himself.
But suddenly his countenance brightens, as he sees his friend approaching in his glittering uniform, and he extends both hands to greet him.
"I am delighted to see you, Mohammed, after this long absence!"
"As I am you!" said the latter, his countenance radiant with smiles. "Forgive me for not having come to see you all day yesterday. I was so busy with my soldiers, and still more so with myself, Osman! I have had much to learn to keep the soldiers from observing that I was a mere beginner in the art of war."
"And that is all you have to say in excuse for your conduct?" said
Osman, looking searchingly into his friend's countenance.
"That is all," replied he, hastily, endeavoring to look his friend full in the face. But be could not, and looked aside.
Osman notices this, and nods his head with a smile full of meaning.
"Pray seat yourself at my side Mohammed? Let me throw my arm around your neck, and then listen to me, my friend. Offer no resistance, for I must confess that your friend Osman has been employing spies for some time past, and be knows more than Mohammed supposes, and much more than Consrouf Pacha dreams of."
"What do you know?" asked Mohammed, trembling slightly. "I pray you tell me, Osman!"
"Listen, Mohammed," said Osman, bending toward him, in a low voice. "Lamentations have just resounded from the interior of the pacha's harem. Two of his eunuchs have received the bastinado, and do you know why? Because they could not inform him where Mohammed Ali passed the last and the preceding night."