“The land was then only half cultivated,” replied the nazir, “and was rated at only three ardebs[[82]] the feddan [acre]. Since then Delì Pasha has spent much money on it in irrigation, and he is quite satisfied that it produces, as you see in our books, five ardebs; but we generally get seven out of it, and besides this there are many methods which we employ for getting an honest penny here and there out of the village. The recruiting time is our best harvest, for then all those who do not wish a son or a brother to be taken must pay the sheik well, and I have my eye always steadily fixed upon him to see that he shares fairly with us.”
“Then,” replied Hassan, “it is clear that the signature or seal of the sheik is necessary for all these papers, in case they should be suddenly called for and examined. How do you propose to arrange them with me in his absence?”
“He is on his way,” said the nazir, “and will be here to-night. To-morrow morning we will come to you together, sign the papers, pay you the money, take your receipt, and divide the little perquisite that we take for our trouble.”
He accompanied these last words with what he meant to be a knowing wink, but what was in fact a grimace so odious that Hassan could scarcely resist the impulse, which had been gradually growing, to kick him out of the room. But his resolution to seize and convict his accomplice the sheik enabled him to master the impulse, so he contented himself with saying—
“Well, bring him to-morrow morning and we will make it all right.”
“I will be here,” replied the nazir, who then rose and took his leave.
No sooner was he gone than Hassan’s indignation found vent in words which, although not uncommon among the Arabs, are scarcely fit to be translated for ears or eyes polite. As he was not aware what spies or partisans the nazir might have among the servants in the house, he took no immediate step in reference to the late interview, but strolled down to the stable and spent some time in directing the exertions of his groom towards the rubbing and polishing the satin coats of Shèitan and Nebleh, and beautiful they both were in their several styles—the one above the ordinary size, fleet, proud, strong, and fierce in his bearing to all but one; the other gentle, sagacious, unequalled in her speed as in the fine and delicate proportions of her limbs. Still when any stranger approached, she turned to look at him, as if expecting again to see the form, again to hear the voice, of her Arab lord.
Hassan understood the gesture, and went up to caress her, saying, “Faithful creature, thou shalt see him no more; his destined hour was come, and you are separated. But you shall at least go where you will be sheltered in all seasons, nurtured with all care, fed with all fresh grasses and grains; thy sleek sides will be covered with velvet and jewels, a gold-adorned bit in thy mouth, and on thy back will be a rider like thyself—slight, indeed, and small in size, but unwearied in energy, and of a spirit unquenched by danger and fatigue: wilt thou be happy, Nebleh?”
While thus speaking, or rather half audibly murmuring, he stood with one arm thrown over Nebleh’s neck and the other hand shading his own eyes, as his thoughts unconsciously wandered to Amina, and might have been embodied thus in words: “Were I lying on those sands where the Sammalous chief’s bones now rest, would she start and turn at every approaching step; and if afterwards they wedded her to wealth and splendour, and her robes were studded with jewels, and gold and pearls were upon her neck, would she be happy?”
Hassan was roused from his wayward and dreamy thoughts by the cheerful voice of his friend Ahmed Aga, who had come to inspect the far-famed Nebleh, and was surprised to find Hassan apparently asleep, though standing on his feet and his arm over her neck. “Why, how is this, my Antar?” he cried; “asleep, and with your arm on Nebleh’s mane.”