The rage of the chief eunuch knew no bounds. All Cairo was searched, but in vain; her disguise as an Egyptian woman, residing in a cottage at Ghizeh, protected her for a time, and the chief eunuch returned to Constantinople without having been able to discover her retreat.
The young couple lived for some time happily in their retirement, Selim Aga continuing to serve the Viceroy in Cairo and visiting his wife by stealth. However, some one who entertained a spite against him discovered his secret, and orders were given for the immediate seizure of his wife and himself: he fortunately received notice of this order in time to hasten to his cottage at Ghizeh and warn his wife of their perilous situation.
Not a moment was to be lost: disguised as a fellah, she sought and found refuge in the house of a kind-hearted neighbour; whilst he, snatching up their only child, with the few articles of value that he could secrete about his person, galloped off to the desert and placed his child in the hands of an Arab woman whom he found seated at the base of the Great Pyramid. Thence he fled towards Lower Egypt as fast and as far as his horse could carry him. In the neighbourhood of Alexandria he threw off his Turkish dress, having procured and assumed that of a wandering dervish.
When his beard and his hair had become sufficiently long and matted, and his face stained enough to ensure him against recognition, he ventured to return to Cairo in order to inquire into the fate of his wife; but all his researches proved unavailing, although he had the satisfaction of learning that she had eluded the search of those who were ordered to seize her.
Still habited and disguised as a dervish, he found his way with a caravan of pilgrims to Mecca, and thence, following the bent of his early habits and predilections, joined the army of Ibrahim Pasha, engaged in hostilities with the Wahabees.
On one occasion, when Ibrahim was nearly surrounded and hard pressed by a body of the enemy, he was surprised by hearing beside him the loud shout of a dervish (“Allah-hoo! Allah-hoo!”), who, armed with an enormous club garnished with iron spikes, came forward to the rescue. Horse and man went down before the sweeping blows of the dervish’s terrible weapon. Apparently reckless of life, he went forward striking to the right and the left, and shouting “Allah-hoo!” in a voice that terrified the Arabs, who, thinking that he must be a jinn or afreet, fled before him. When the battle was over, Ibrahim sent for him to his tent and inquired what he could do to reward him.
“Give me a horse and a sword,” was the reply of the dervish; “I ask no more.”
“That you shall have,” replied Ibrahim; “and, Wallah! if thou canst use a sword as thou dost handle that knotty club, it will not be long before thou dost attain to honour and distinction.”
The horse and the sword were given, and in every succeeding action the dervish, still clothed in the same wild attire, was in the foremost ranks, shouting “Allah—hoo!” and striking down all before him. Such was his skill in the use of the sword that he was soon known in the Egyptian army as Dervish the Swordsman; and although, as he rose in rank, he laid aside the mendicant dress for that of an officer, he never thought fit to resume his original name, but retained that under which by his valour he had attained the rank of bey. He had the rare good fortune to be equally a favourite with Mohammed Ali and Ibrahim, as he never mixed in any political intrigues, but simply did his duty as a brave soldier.
“And have you never succeeded in learning what became of my mother?” inquired Hassan when the veteran had concluded his narrative.