“Well, well,” remarked Muhammad Pasha, with benignity. “Boys will be foolish! In Allah’s name I bid you welcome, O my friends. It is well known that I myself despise these upstarts and have told their leader my opinion to his face. Less old, I should have spent my life and fortune for the young Khedive, whose ancestor, the great Muhammad Ali, raised my house to honour; as it is, I pray to God to grant him victory. But his dependence on the English likes me not; and God forbid that I should influence your counsels. You have, each one, his life and fortune to protect, his duty to decide towards El Islâm.”
He stopped, and an uneasy silence reigned for quite a minute. It was broken by a man exclaiming, “They have set up a tribunal in each town with power to ruin or to kill a man on mere suspicion. Hear the wording of a document which I received this day.”
With that, he took a paper from his breast and read aloud its contents—a call in truculent, inflated language upon the patriot Mahmûd the son of Hâfiz to show his fervour by a contribution to the war fund; failing which, he would be prosecuted as a foe to Egypt—“for the public safety.”
“Aha!” laughed the old Pasha in his thin, cracked voice. “A French model, by my beard! For men who would eschew all foreign influence! That is the hand of Tulbah, not Arâbi. The mountebanks! The silly children—apish imitators!”
“By your Excellency’s leave the matter is extremely serious—for me at least,” groaned out the owner of the notice.
“Thou wilt make the contribution?” inquired Yûsuf.
“Better flee,” remarked another.
And then they all began to talk together in low whispers with frightened glances round the room, for spies were everywhere. Flight was now hopeless, every one agreed; nothing remained but to feign ardour in Arâbi’s cause, give up communication with the loyalists at Alexandria, and pray for the usurper’s overthrow.
“They cannot last, I tell you,” chuckled the old Pasha. “These fellâhîn are quite unfit for government. The young Khedive has been too kind. He has not whipped them. My son and I were present when his father warned him to execute these men, his creatures, who had tasted power. A sad mistake, by Allah! For, Allah knows, we do not want the English in this land. My life-work, that of all the old diplomatists, has been to stave off European interference, by compliments, by guile, by small concessions. O Allah, let me die before the evil day! The Lord preserve us from the domination of the infidels!”
The old man dropped his hands and hung his head.