Slowly she walked down the pathway between the tents, towing to the right and to the left to the Mamelukes, who threw themselves down before her in profound reverence. But when she passed by the tents of the Turks she veiled her countenance more closely, and her eyes glanced angrily through the delicate fabric.
"Traitors are they all!" murmured she, as she entered the tent where she dwelt with the women of Cousrouf, the second Mameluke chieftain. "Yes, traitors, and our Mamelukes will be their victims! Yet I will endeavor to save as many of them as possible!"
While Sitta Nefysseh sat sorrowing on her cushion, paying but little attention to the songs which the slaves sang, and to the dances with which they sought to entertain their mistress, the joyous festivities of the Mamelukes and Turks were still going on. Osman Bey had promised to show his horsemanship to-day; and it was a beautiful spectacle to see him coursing along on his splendidly- caparisoned black charger, his sword uplifted in his hand. His eyes sparkled even more lustrously than the gems in the agraffe of the crescent on the sultan's turban. In the sash that encircled his waist glittered a pair of pistols and the jewelled hilt of a dagger, and whoever beheld Osman Bey said to himself:" This is a man! a hero who recoils from nothing!" Lightly bounding, his nostrils expanded, his eyes glowing, he now rode his steed around the wide circle of Mamelukes and Turks. With uplifted sword he then approached the horse that stood tied to a stake in the middle of the circle. Trembling, and neighing anxiously, it saw the hero bearing down upon it at a full gallop; then Osman's sword glittered in the air, and the horse's head fell to the ground, severed from the body by a single blow. Loud and exulting shouts rewarded the bold rider for this proof of his wonderful skill and strength, and Osman bowed smilingly to the right and to the left, and then again drew in his reins, and made his steed bound as lightly and coquettishly as though it had learned its arts from the bayaderes.
Yes, Osman Bey is a great hero, and they all regard him with astonishment, the Mamelukes with joyous smiles, the Turks with serious countenances. While Osman Bey Bardissi lives, peace with the Turks is not to be thought of; while life lasts, he will aspire to greater eminence and power.
"How can peace be made with this powerful, haughty chieftain?" This is also murmured by the capitan pacha, who stands on the deck of the admiral's ship, and he orders that the Turkish ships weigh anchor, and sail out of the harbor of Alexandria. Yes, Sitta Nefysseh was right: the enemy lies in wait there. Three large Turkish ships have been lying at anchor there ever since the Mameluke beys have been holding fetes with the Turks at Aboukir. But to-day a fourth ship has arrived from Stamboul—a ship manned with three hundred well- equipped soldiers; and her captain's name is Osman, and his lieutenant is called Mohammed Ali.
CHAPTER VI
THE MASSACRE.
The capitan pacha had himself come over in his admiral's ship to greet the newly arrived soldiers, and to review the fleet of stately vessels-of-war. He graciously caused Osman, the bim bashi, and Mohammed Ali, the boulouk bashi, to be presented to him.
"You have employed the time well during your passage," said he, slightly inclining his proud head. "You have converted rude peasants into disciplined soldiers."
"It is not my work," replied Osman, who stood attired in his full uniform before the capitan pacha. "No, excellency, I suffered from the unaccustomed sea-voyage, and could hardly leave my cabin. Mohammed Ali deserves all the credit; he drilled the soldiers on the deck incessantly, day and night."