“I should be truly glad,” answered Hassan; “but our intercourse will be soon interrupted, for Delì Pasha goes shortly to Siout as Governor, and I am to accompany him.”
“You will not remain there long,” said Reschid, “neither you nor your chief. Mohammed Ali likes him and his blunt ways. You will see that he will not leave him long at Siout.”
Thus conversing, the friends arrived at the Pyramids, where the report of their generosity to the soldiers and the wounded was soon spread over the whole encampment.
On the morning succeeding these events, Hassan, after taking leave of the Thorpe party, and recommending them to the care of his friend Reschid, returned to Delì Pasha’s palace on the banks of the river, where he was cordially welcomed by his chief and by Ahmed Aga. The fame of his exploits, if so they may be termed, had already spread over the whole house, and indeed had been painted in glowing colours by the old chief himself to his daughter.
No greeting of all those which met him on his return pleased him more than that of the little dumb Murad, who looked up into his protector’s face with eyes that scarcely required the aid of the tongue’s interpretation, as his nimble fingers signed the words, “Allah give you a long and prosperous life—I have heard all, and oh! I am so happy.”
Hassan patted the head of his young protégé and inquired what he had been doing during the last few days. The little boy had much to tell, and it required all Hassan’s attention to follow and understand the language of those fingers, whose rapidity of motion almost confused his sight. Murad had taken many messages, and got into high favour with old Mansour, who knew that he was himself the unintentional cause of the hurt which the dumb boy had received. Finding him very faithful and intelligent in the execution of commissions, Mansour had sent him frequently to the city to bring trifles and samples for the ladies of the harem, and had even conducted him to the ladies themselves, his age not rendering that step objectionable.[[75]] He had taken some silks to Zeinab Khanum, and some otto of roses[[76]] to Ayesha Khanum (probably the two wives of the Pasha); also some beads and turquoises to the lovely Amina Khanum.
“To whom?” cried Hassan, grasping the little boy’s arm with a grip which almost paralysed it.
“To the lovely Amina Khanum,” repeated Murad, astonished at Hassan’s outbreak. “And is she not beautiful as a houri?”
“And did you speak with her?” said Hassan, releasing the boy’s arm and striving to master his emotion.
“In truth I did,” he replied, “and she spoke to me kindly, and pitied my want of speech, and said she could almost weep for me.”