"Yes, my dear father, I have. It is time I showed myself to be a man! And do you not think the uniform of a bim bashi will become me well; and that I, too, have some desire to parade in my finery before beautiful women, and be honored with their gracious looks?"
"You are jesting, my son," said the tschorbadji, sadly. "With a grave air your lips speak joyous words of which your heart knows nothing. No, you cannot deceive your father. It is not the uniform that charms you, nor has or can war have any thing attractive for you."
"You mean by that, father, that a sickly, weak man, like myself, can take no pleasure in military service. Believe me, it will make me healthier and stronger. I have been treated like an invalid long enough, and have not benefited by such treatment. Let us now defy fate and ill health. Moreover," he continued, after a short pause, "moreover, I have chosen Mohammed to be my companion, my lieutenant, in order that I might have a strong arm to lean on. With Mohammed at my side, I shall have no fear in the conflict. His presence will give me the needful strength. I tell you I feel stronger and better already. But now let me go and put on my uniform. And do you not think you will be proud of my soldierly appearance yourself when you walk down to the ship with me, and hear people whisper to each other: 'That is Osman! We would not have believed him to be so stately and strong a man!' Tell me, would this not gladden your heart?"
He nodded to his father, and without awaiting his answer turned and went hastily to his apartments, to put on his uniform.
The tschorbadji looked after him sadly.
"If I could only discover what secret purpose induces my son to play the soldier! I will ask Mohammed, and also request him to watch over my son."
He went down into the court-yard where Mohammed, dressed in the uniform of the boulouk bashi again, was engaged in drawing up his soldiers in rank and file, preparatory to marching them down to the harbor, where they were to embark. He beckoned to Mohammed to come into the hall, and laid his hand gently on his shoulder. "I can count on you, my friend, can I not?"
"Tschorbadji, you can count on me at all times, while life lasts!"
"You will watch over my Osman? " said he, in low tones. "You will not permit him to undertake that which his body is unable to bear, though his spirit be well equal to the task?"
"I will care for him as though he were my better self, as I would for the woman I love!" said Mohammed. "I well know that his spirit is strong, but his body is delicate. And therefore when he goes into danger, and I cannot prevent it, I will protect him unto death, with my own body! This I swear to you by Allah, and by my love for my friend Osman!"