“What is the matter with Amina?” he said; “I have lately found her sad and weeping.”
“How can your servant tell?” replied the Khanum. “Perhaps my young lady is still afraid that your lordship will oblige her to marry some one whom she cannot love—you had spoken to her on some such subject.”
“Foolish child!” replied the Pasha. “Tell her, then, to dry her tears, for, Wallah! I only wish to see her happy, and I will not marry her by force to any one.”
“I will convey your gracious message, and it will give her much comfort,” said the Khanum, glad to escape from her lord’s presence; for she felt oppressed by the secret of the mutual passion of the young lovers, and dreaded lest by some unforeseen word it should come to light.
Nebleh had been washed from head to foot in tepid water, and then rubbed dry with cloths until her coat shone like the finest satin. Her sweeping mane and tail had been carefully combed, and as she walked by the side of the sàis who led her, with a light elastic tread that scarcely touched the ground, Ahmed Aga sighed to think that such a beautiful animal was about to leave the stable of his chief.
When they reached the garden and mentioned their names to the porter at the gate, they were at once admitted, and found the Viceroy reclining on the crimson damask cushions of a divan in the corner of his kiosk, and smoking a chibouq. On the floor, at a little distance, sate a Bedouin sheik from the neighbourhood of Mount Sinai; and a little farther stood, in respectful silence, a good-looking boy, with a round chubby face and dark eyes, whose dress and jewel-hilted sword showed him to be of high birth.
Hassan and Ahmed Aga having entered and made their salam, the former informed the Viceroy that he was charged by Delì Pasha to present his respects, and to congratulate his Highness on his safe arrival. Having said this he came forward, and touching his forehead with the hem of the Viceroy’s pelisse, delivered his letter. Mohammed Ali took it, and bending his keen eyes on the bearer, as was his custom, with a scrutinising look, he desired his secretary, who then entered the room, to read it to him.[[89]]
The latter did so in a low voice that reached only his master’s ear, but it was easy to see from the twinkling of his eyes and the expression of his countenance that he was both interested and pleased by the contents. When it was concluded he simply said, “Peki, peki” (Very well, very well), then asked Ahmed Aga his business.
“May your Highness’s life be prolonged. I am your servant, Ahmed Aga, mirakhor to Delì Pasha, who has charged me to present to you in his name the Arab mare Nebleh, who is, I believe, mentioned in the letter just honoured by your perusal.”
“Where is she?” said Mohammed Ali; “I would see her.”