He sprang to the window, tore it open, and, in tones that were heard above the uproar, commanded silence.
"The defterdar has deceived you. I have no money! I will come down to you."
He quickly stepped back from the window, and laid the sword, dagger, and pistols, that hung in his belt, on the table.
"They shall see that I am not alarmed. I will go down to them unarmed."
No, Mohammed Ali is not alarmed, they all perceive as he appears among them unarmed, and motions the soldiers, that are rushing upon him, back, with a wave of the hand.
"Stand back, soldiers, and do not forget that I am the sarechsme.
Not your general, but yet, like you, in the viceroy's service."
"Does he also pay you as he does us? " asked a soldier, in mocking tones. "Do they also give you empty promises instead of money?"
"That is an insolent question," said he. "I will, however, answer it, because I choose to do so. They do not pay me. They gave the sarechsme, after he had waited in vain for many months, ten purses of gold; they owe him more. Ask my soldiers what I did with this money. I shared it with my soldiers as a general should. I retained five purses, for this amount was due my creditors. The other five purses I gave to my soldiers—not as their pay, the viceroy owes them that, but as a present from me. I have received no other money- -I swear to this by Allah and the prophet. Go to my soldiers and ask them if this is not true, and then do as you think proper."
"Long live Mohammed Ali! Long live the generous sarechsme!" cried one of the soldiers, and the cry was taken up and repeated by all the rest.
"It is needless to go to the soldiers, for the sarechsme tells the truth. Let us return to the defterdar; he must and shall pay us!"