“Hast no parents?” Again the same reply.
Tearing a piece of linen off the edge of his shirt, Hassan stanched with it the blood still flowing from the boy’s shoulder, and binding a handkerchief over the wound, he lifted the sufferer gently in his arms; then placing him on his horse, and having desired the groom to go immediately for the Italian surgeon who attended Delì Pasha’s family, he walked slowly home, supporting the wounded boy on the saddle.
Mansour, the eunuch, after being so opportunely rescued by Hassan, pursued his way to Delì Pasha’s harem, and went up to give to the Lady Amina an account of the commission which he had been executing for her in Cairo.
After he had produced the gold thread which he had purchased for the completion of the purse which Amina was working for her father, the young lady remarked in his countenance the traces of recent agitation, and inquired the cause. The old man proceeded to relate to her his adventure with the Bashi-Bazouks and his timely rescue by Hassan. In speaking of the latter he launched forth into the highest praises of his courage and prowess, as well as the kindness of his nature and disposition.
Had the room not been darkened by curtains, and the old man’s eyesight not been somewhat dimmed by age, he could not have failed to notice the tell-tale blood rush to the cheeks and temples of Amina as she heard these encomiums on one whom she knew to be the same whom she had seen from her lattice, and whose voice had taken up her song; nor could she doubt from the expression which he had used, and from the deep and earnest gaze which he had fixed upon her lattice, that she was herself the object of his romantic attachment.
Repressing her emotions with a slyness which is one of the earliest lessons that Love teaches to his votaries, she asked Mansour, in a tone of seeming indifference, who this new follower of her father’s might be, and what his rank and parentage.
To these inquiries Mansour was unable to give her any satisfactory answer. He had heard that some mystery hung over Hassan’s birth, and all that he knew was that his form was a model of strength and activity, that as a horseman he was unequalled, that from his good-humour and obliging disposition he was already a great favourite in the house, and that Delì Pasha entertained so high an opinion of him as to give him the appointment of khaznadâr.
Little did the old eunuch think that every word which he uttered was adding fuel to the fire already kindled, and that while Amina sat with downcast eyes and fingers busily employed on her purse, her ear was drinking in every word that he uttered in praise of Hassan, and her little heart was beating with throbs so violent that she feared Mansour must hear them. Her secret was, however, safe for the present, and the eunuch, changing the conversation, said—
“Have you heard that on the day after to-morrow there is to be a grand match at the jereed in the courtyard? The Kiahia Pasha is coming with some of his golams, and they will take a part in the game.”
“No,” replied Amina; “I had not yet heard of it. Are you sure if the match is to be the day after to-morrow?”