“Be it my task,” he said, “to find out the window of your apartment. When you hear that cry after sunset you will know that your wit-wat is watching below it for a glance from those loved eyes, or a word from that tongue which is more musical than ‘the bird of a thousand songs.’”[[100]]
Thus discoursing they reached the ferry, and crossed it without accident. On approaching the spot on the opposite bank where the dahabiahs had come-to for the night, they could see by the number of moving lights and figures on the bank that all the party was still astir and in unwonted agitation. One of the Arab youths who had accompanied our hero and his fair charge ran forward at full speed until he reached the boats, where he shouted at the top of his voice, “The Khanum is safe; Hassan has drawn her out of the river. They are coming.”
The news spread with the rapidity of lightning. Men and women, masters and servants, all crowded forward to greet the advancing party; and Amina, on dismounting from her donkey, found herself in the arms of her beloved Fatimeh, who had been nearly deprived of reason by the supposed loss of her young mistress, whom she loved like a daughter.
The Arab women who accompanied her, and whose kind and hospitable attentions to her wants she explained, were taken into the harem cabin and so loaded with kisses, caresses, and presents that they began to think that Amina must be a daughter of Mohammed Ali himself, that her recovery should be attended with such extraordinary and generous demonstrations; nor were the Arabs without entertained with less hospitable warmth.
As for Hassan, the eunuchs of the harem crowded round him to kiss his hand, and the tears of the faithful creatures bore testimony to the attachment which they felt towards their young mistress, whose life he had saved. Neither on board nor on the bank was there any thought of sleep that night. The tale of Amina’s miraculous escape was repeated from mouth to mouth, with a score of variations and exaggerations, by groups assembled around blazing fires on the bank, while interminable pipes and coffee beguiled the hours of night.
Hassan contrived ere long to withdraw from these wonder-loving circles to a spot where he was able to enjoy in quiet the hearty congratulations of Ahmed Aga, and one or two others of his intimate companions.
On the following morning the Arab party returned to their encampment, loaded with presents forced upon them by the generosity of the Pasha’s major-domo and the ladies of the harem, while the dahabiahs pursued their course without accident or interruption to Siout.
The official residence assigned to the Governor was a large and tolerably convenient house, which had been built not many years before by order of Ibrahim Pasha, at the northern extremity of the town. The front looked upon an open square or meidàn, where the troops were paraded; while the back, occupied by the harem, was surrounded by gardens in which orange, lemon, and pomegranate trees flourished in considerable abundance.
Love, though proverbially blind to danger and to consequences, is quick-sighted and quick-witted. Thus not many days had elapsed ere the cry of the wit-wat was heard under one of the windows that looked upon the garden; the casement was cautiously half-opened, and the lovers enjoyed a few moments of stolen conversation, which, for fear of being overheard, they carried on chiefly by signs and glances, or as the Arab distich has it—
“Walls have ears, and rivals are ever on the watch.