“Lady,” said Hassan in a stern voice, “there is no honour to be gained by me in wounding or killing coward slaves like these; once more I warn you bid them retire, and spare me the trouble of defiling your fair carpets with their blood.”
The Khanum looked at her disabled and trembling slaves, and from them to the bright, proud eye and commanding form of the young man; her spirit failed her, and her pride quailed beneath his glance.
“Retire,” she said, “and carry out that body, be it alive or dead.” The men obeyed, and the Khanum turning to Hassan, said in a trembling voice, “You have subdued one who was never conquered before. What is your purpose now—do you intend to kill me?”
Hassan, from whose brow the expression of anger had not yet passed away, looked at her in silence for a minute before he replied—
“Khanum, do I look like one who could strike a woman? It is punishment severe enough for you that I leave you alone with your own bitter thoughts. I know you, lady—yes, I know your name and rank, and others say what you have yourself avowed, that of those who have offended you none have ever lived to tell it. But I warn you that, if you pursue me with your hate and commission others to try and take my life, I will cleave their skulls with this good sword, and will report to the Viceroy what goes on in this house. If you choose that for the future there shall be peace between us, we will both forget this evening, and your secret is as safe with me as if I were dead: the choice rests with you. Now, lady, I shall go away;” and as he spoke he moved across the carpet towards the door.
“Stay—stay a moment,” cried the Khanum in affright. “Let me call back the slaves and give them their orders. The passages are long and narrow—you may lose your way; slaves are there armed; the porter too is armed, and he alone has the secret of that door-lock.”
“I had thought of all these things, lady,” said Hassan calmly, as he returned from the edge of the carpet where he had taken up his slippers,[[87]] which he placed under his belt, tightening the latter at the same time so as firmly to secure them as well as his dagger. “It is not my intention to trust to the good faith either of yourself or your armed slaves in those dark passages; I prefer a road that is open and familiar to me as the expanse of the desert.” So saying, he leisurely approached the open casement, and looked out to see that no boats were below or in the neighbourhood.
“Stay!” she cried, looking out with a shudder on the rapid current that swept along the base of her house. “I swear to you by the Koran and by the head of my father that my slaves shall conduct you safely out of the palace.” And perhaps she spoke the truth, for at that moment a passion that she would have called love, and admiration for the youth’s dauntless courage, had banished from her mind the affront he had offered to her pride; but he calmly replied—
“Lady, if you are not treacherous, your slaves might be so. The Nile and I are old friends: if you are silent and your slaves faithful, you have nothing to fear for or from Hassan.” So saying, he sprang head-foremost from the casement into the rushing waters below. Uttering a faint shriek, she looked forth from the window, and soon afterwards, at a distance of fifty or sixty yards from where he dropped, she saw by the moonlight that he had risen to the surface, and was swimming leisurely down with the swift current of the Nile. “Mashallah! Mashallah! what a man is that! and what a woman am I!” And for the first time—perhaps for the last—during a period of many years that victim of ungoverned passion buried her face in her hands and wept tears of shame and remorse.[[88]]
During the same evening Osman Bey, who had received orders to precede his chief to Siout, and who was now on the eve of departure, sat in the corner of a private room in his house, leisurely smoking a chibouq, and questioning his confidential servant, Ferraj, who stood before him with his hands crossed on his breast.