Barakah delighted in her son’s account of the disorders. His excitement and the animation of each glance and gesture provided her with pictures upon which she brooded in the vacancy of summer days. The air which drifted through her lattice was oppressive, the sunlight like a furnace fire without; the voices of the street complained of dust and heat; the ceaseless buzz of flies benumbed the brain; the call for water rang incessantly through all the house, and even Umm ed-Dahak felt too weak to talk. But Barakah was happy, since Muhammad spent much time with her, finding her conversation more congenial to his patriotic mood than that of Yûsuf. In his absence she lay still and smoked, and quenched her thirst at frequent intervals, taking scant notice of her little daughter—the only other of her many children who had managed to survive the second year. Umm ed-Dahak loved the child and schooled her privately, telling her stories of man’s love and woman’s duty, and teaching her to pose and ogle in the proper way. But for the rest she was of no importance; Muhammad’s known affection for her was her only merit.
One afternoon Muhammad came in with a mien of wild excitement and, having kissed his mother’s hand, cried out:
“Most dreadful news! O horror! O revenge! The English have destroyed Iskenderîyeh with their cruel guns! The English only, since the French, more honourable, fled from the hateful sight with tears of shame. Simply because the forts were being mended, and work was not relaxed at their command. But, praise to Allah, we have hurt them also. Quite half their fleet has been destroyed by our brave fire. After this, we give no quarter—no, by Allah! It is holy war. Muhammad Tewfik is proclaimed a scoundrel. Our Arâbi is Dictator. The army is to be augmented fourfold by forced levies. I met a boy, no older than myself, who goes to fight. I go this minute to implore my father to let me likewise join the army in the field.”
“Thy age is but fifteen. O Lord, he must not go!” cried out his mother in an agony of apprehension.
“I am a man full-grown, proficient in all exercises that belong to war. As young as I are going. Think, it is against the English, O my mother—thy vile enemies!”
Embracing her without a thought for her despair, he left her in great haste to find his father.
CHAPTER XXX
Yûsuf Pasha was upon the point of going out when his son was shown into his presence in his private room. He smiled upon the stripling’s prayer to be allowed to fight, but said: