“What a picturesque and appropriate addition to this classic scene!” said Emily, half aloud to herself, as her eye rested upon the figure of a stranger who had just entered the temple from the side, and was looking up, apparently awed and surprised, at its gigantic though harmonious proportions.
He was a large, powerful man, considerably above middle height. His dark eye, sparkling with the fire of vigorous manhood, belied the age which the massive grey beard descending on his breast might seem to indicate, while the folds of his ample turban, the cashmere shawl around his waist, in which were two silver-mounted pistols, and the sword that hung at his side, bespoke at once a man of rank and a soldier.
“Do you know who he is?” said Emily, addressing Demetri.
“Yes, signora,” replied the loquacious interpreter; “though he only arrived here yesterday, I have found out all about him. His name is Dervish Bey, known as Es-Seyaf, or the Swordsman. He was one of the most celebrated warriors in Mohammed Ali’s army of Arabia. He has lately been Governor of Assouan, but is now on his way to Cairo. His boats are gone on and wait for him at Keneh, to which place he travels on horseback attended by two or three mounted followers. They say that with that very sword now at his side he has often cut off the head of an ox at a single blow.”
“I hope he will not cut off any of our heads,” replied Emily, smiling.
“Were he to attempt it, lady, you would not be without a defender,” said a low voice in English immediately behind her. At the sound of that well-known voice the blood rushed to Emily’s temples as she turned and saw Hassan before her.
“I beg pardon for having startled you by my sudden appearance,” said Hassan.
“I was, indeed, surprised at your unexpected appearance,” said Emily, recovering herself; “but you know we are always glad to see you, Hassan. Will you come and speak to my father?” and she led the way to the spot where Mr Thorpe was transferring hieroglyphics to his album.
From him, as well as from Müller, Hassan received a friendly welcome, and in a brief conversation which ensued our hero informed them that he had finally quitted his roving life and his lawless band. Whilst they were still conversing, Dervish Bey approached the party, and observing that Hassan spoke to them in their own language, saluted him, adding, “Will you ask the Frank ladies whether one of them has lost a ring?”
Hassan having repeated the question, Emily, looking at her hand, observed that in the surprise which his sudden appearance had occasioned a ring had dropped from her finger. “Yes,” she replied, “I see that I have lost my small emerald ring.”