“Speak out, man,” said the impatient Pasha; “mind not our good Kiahia Khanum. She has been long in our house, and we know her discretion.”
“I wished to say,” replied Hassan, “that your mirakhor, Ahmed Aga, is a true and faithful servant of your lordship, and he is a true and good friend of mine: it is his right and privilege to convey to the Viceroy any horse presented by your lordship. On such occasions you know that his Highness gives a liberal present to the bearer. Were you to send me with the horse, it would be an unjust slight to a faithful servant, and would give me the pain of supplanting a friend.”
“Wallah! Wallah! you are right, boy. I had not thought of it. You shall go together: you may deliver the compliments and the letter, while he presents the horse.”
Before Hassan could reply, a servant came in to say that the Viceroy’s secretary was in the saloon with a message from his Highness. Starting up from the corner where he sat, Delì Pasha told them to remain where they were, while he went in to learn the secretary’s business with him. Thus were Hassan and the Khanum again accidentally left together.
“My mother,” said our hero in a low and melancholy voice, “I remember well what you said to me when we last met: your words cost me much pain, but they were wise and true. I feel how far more humble I am in rank than the priceless pearl whom you guard, and that it would be selfish in me to do aught that could mar her high fortunes. Inshallah! I will never cost her a tear; but there is no harm in my loving her with my whole heart and soul as the Gheber loves and worships the sun, though he knows he never can reach it. Such is my destiny; Allah has willed it; and I could more easily pluck out my eyes from my head than her image from my heart. Tell me, then, is she well and happy?”
“She is well,” replied the Khanum in a trembling voice, while she muttered to herself in an agony of sorrow, “Allah, Allah, what is to be done? Both these young loving hearts will be broken, for her love is as deep and passionate as his!”
Hassan saw that she was weeping; a secret instinct told him that he was loved by Amina. The ominous question shot from his eager eyes and rushed to his lips, but by a strong and determined effort he conquered himself, and compressed within him the words on which his destiny hung. He saw that the Khanum pitied him, that her heart was under the influence of tender sympathies, and he would not tempt her to forget her duty and betray a secret which she was bound to preserve.
Fatimeh Khanum saw the struggle, and loved him the more for it. The Pasha’s returning steps being now audible, she had just time to say, “Allah preserve and bless you with all good,” when he re-entered the room and resumed his seat.
“Hassan,” he said, “I have informed the secretary of your mission to Shoobra, and he says that the Viceroy will be disengaged about the time of the âs’r to-day [three o’clock P.M.] Ahmed Aga shall go with you, and present the mare as you propose, and you will deliver to his Highness this letter.”
Having received the letter, Hassan withdrew, leaving his chief to continue his conversation with the Khanum.