Sitta Nefysseh, who was still inhaling the fragrance of the rose, slowly let fall her hand to her side, and the flower fell from her fingers to the ground.
"You are an attentive, punctual servant," said she. "I thank you; I will drive out at once with two of my women; you may ride beside my carriage."
Sitta Nefysseh arose and left the kiosk. She passed close by him, and her white veil lightly touched Youssouf's shoulder. He stood as if touched by a magic wand and fixed to the spot. He could not follow his mistress, who walked proudly toward the place where the women awaited her. He followed her with his eyes, however, and saw how her long flowing garment adjusted itself to her lovely figure, and how her white veil fluttered about her noble head, enveloping it as with a delicate white cloud.
"Would that I were the wind that kisses your cheek!" murmured he, lost in contemplation of his idol. "Would I were the sand your foot blesses with its touch! To die near you, beholding you in death, were heavenly bliss."
Sitta Nefysseh had disappeared behind the clump of bushes. Kachef Youssouf still stood before the kiosk. He listened. The music had ceased. He knew that his mistress was returning with her women to the house. He hastily glanced around the garden, fastening his large, black eyes, on every bush, as if expecting to find an enemy concealed there. No one is to be seen. Only Heaven and the bees in the air see Youssouf as he rushes into the kiosk, picks up the rose, presses it passionately to his lips, and then conceals it in his bosom.
CHAPTER XI
THE COUNCIL OF WAR.
From the day of their first meeting, when Cousrouf Pacha appointed Mohammed Ali sarechsme, the new general had proved his bravery and his shrewdness in many a skirmish and battle with the Mamelukes. He had already captured from them two strongholds, and had returned victorious from every battle with them. Cousrouf praised his fortune at having such a general at his side. Mohammed Ali showed himself so zealous and devoted in his service that the viceroy listened to his advice only, and called him his favorite and confidant.
"Truly, I am a happy man," said Cousrouf to himself. "I am the ruler of a great kingdom. I have friends at my side in whom I can confide, and who will assist me in all my plans, executing all I determine. Who knows but that a great future still awaits me, and that the crown which now hangs suspended over my head may not one day adorn it in reality? Mohammed shall aid me. He is the bravest of the brave, and the wisest of the wise."
He walked to and fro in his room as he said this to himself, his countenance radiant with smiles.