mohammed ali and his house-第17部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


m　so　loudly；　so　vehemently；　that　he　cannot　but　listen　to　its　voice。

He　resists　with　all　his　might。　He　will　conquer。　This　miserable　hunger；　this　despicable　thirst；　he　will　not　heed　the　pains　that　rend　his　body；　he　will　be　strong；　and　a　hero；　in　death　at　least。

Convulsively　he　clings　to　the　rock　as　if　to　a　support　against　the　allurements　that　strive　to　draw　him　out　into　life。　But　the　voice　of　the　world　appeals　to　him；　in　louder　and　louder　tones；　and　fearful　are　the　torments　he　is　undergoing。

The　spirit　must　at　last　succumb　to　the　demands　of　Nature。　He　rises　to　give　to　the　body　what　of　right　belongs　to　the　body；　nourishment；　drink　and　food。

He　creeps　to　the　entrance；　and　is　so　weak　that　he　can　hardly　pass　through　the　opening；　which　he　had　formerly　made　still　narrower；　that　no　one　might　discover　it。　He　is　so　weak　that　he　can　scarcely　stand　upright；　his　swollen　lips　are　bleeding；　his　brain　is　burning；　and　he　sinks　down　upon　a　rock。　A　kindly　voice　now　calls　him。　He　hears　it；　but　lacks　the　strength　to　answer。

〃Mohammed！　Mohammed！〃　is　heard　again；　and　now　the　merchant；　Lion；　approaches　from　behind　a　projecting　rock。　He　had　seen　the　boy；　but　knowing　his　proud　heart；　and　fearing　to　put　him　to　shame　by　showing　himself；　and　saying　that　he　came　to　his　assistance；　he　had　lingered　behind　the　rock。

He　now　kneels　down　beside　the　boy；　bends　over　him；　kisses　his　lips；　and　whispers　loving　words　in　his　ear。

〃Poor　child；　Your　mother；　who　loved　you　so　tenderly；　would　weep　bitterly　if　she　could　see　you　in　this　condition。　Poor　boy；　you　must　strengthen　yourself。　I　know　you　have　eaten　nothing；　and　I　have　brought　you　food。〃

He　drew　a　bottle　from　his　pocket；　and　poured　a　little　wine　on　his　lips。　Mohammed　tried　to　resist；　but　the　body　was　stronger　than　the　will。　He　greedily　swallows　the　wine；　and；　without　knowing　it；　asks　for　more。　The　merchant　smiles　approvingly；　and　pours　a　little　more　on　his　lips；　and　then　gives　him　a　small　piece　of　white　bread　that　he　had　brought　with　him；　and　rejoices　when　he　sees　Mohammed　breathing　with　renewed　life。

〃What　are　you　doing？〃　he　murmured。　〃I　must　die；　that　I　may　go　to　my　mother。〃

The　merchant　stooped　down　lower　over　the　boy；　and　kissed　him。　〃Your　mother；　who　loves　you　so　dearly；　sends　you　this　kiss；　through　me。　She　confided　to　me　that　she　must　die；　and　I　promised　her　that　I　would　bring　you　a　kiss　from　her　whenever　I　saw　you。　With　this　kiss　she　commands　you　to　be　brave　and　happy　throughout　life。〃

And；　as　he　ceased　speaking；　he　inclined　his　head　and　kissed　him　a　second　time。

Now；　as　he　receives　this　kiss　from　his　mother；　the　tears　suddenly　burst　from　his　eyes　and　pour　down　his　cheeks；　hot　tears；　and　yet　they　cool　and　alleviate　the　burning　pains　of　his　soul。

〃You　weep；〃　said　the　merchant；　whose　own　cheeks　were　wet　with　grief。　〃Weep　on；　pain　must　have　its　relief　in　tears；　and　even　a　man　need　not　be　ashamed　of　them。〃

He　sat　down　beside　Mohammed；　drew　him　close　to　his　side；　supporting　the　boy's　head　on　his　bosom；　and　spoke　to　him　of　his　dear　mother。

〃Nor　are　you　poor；　Mohammed。　Your　mother　returned　to　me　your　love…　offering；　together　with　other　sums　she　had　saved。　I　have　fifty　gold…　pieces　for　you。　Yes；　fifty　glittering　gold…pieces！　You　can　now　dress　better　than　formerly；　until　provision　is　made　for　your　future；　and；　if　you　should　need　advice　or　assistance；　come　to　me。　You　know　that　I　am　your　friend。　And　now；　be　happy　and　courageous；　remember　that　poor　Sitta　Khadra　has　suffered　much；　and　let　her　be　at　rest　now。　Another　friend　is　awaiting　you　above　on　the　rock；　will　you　go　up　to　him？〃

〃It　is　Osman；　is　it　not？〃　asked　Mohammed；　as　be　dried　his　eyes。　〃Am　I　not　right？〃

The　merchant　inclined　his　head。　〃He　could　not　come　down　the　steep　path；　or　he　would　be　here　now。〃

〃I　will　go　to　him；　I　know　he　loves　me。　He　will　not　laugh　when　he　sees　that　I　have　been　weeping。〃

No；　Osman　did　not　laugh。　When　he　saw　his　friend　coming；　he　advanced　to　meet　him　with　extended　arms；　and　they　embraced　each　other　tenderly；　tears　standing　in　the　eyes　of　both。

All　was　still；　nothing　could　be　heard　but　the　murmur　of　the　sea；　and　the　rustling　of　the　wind。

The　merchant；　who　had　at　first　stood　in　silence　beside　the　two；　now　walked　noiselessly　away。

They　love　each　other；　and　what　they　have　to　say；　no　one　else　should　hear。

Mohammed　stands　up　and　dries　his　eyes；　he　wishes　to　be　composed。　Osman　holds　out　his　hand：

〃Your　mother　is　dead；　but　she　survives　in　your　friends；　and　your　mother　and　your　friend　now　extend　the　hand　to　you。　Mohammed；　come　with　me　to　my　house；　for　my　house　is　yours；　too。　I　will　not　have　you　remain　alone；　you　must　come　with　me。〃

Mohammed　shook　his　head　gravely。　〃It　cannot　beI　will　not　become　a　slave！〃

〃Come；　out　of　love　for　me。　Not　as　my　slave；　but　as　my　friend。　Oh；　I　am　so　lonely；　and　you　are　the　only　one　who　loves；　and　can　console；　poor；　sickly　Osman。〃

〃I　will　come　to　you！〃　exclaimed　Mohammed；　drawing　his　friend　to　his　bosom。　〃Even　as　a　slave　would　I　come；　for　I　should　be　my　friend's　slave。　I　will　come　to　you。〃




CHAPTER　X

COUSROUF　PACHA。


THE　days　had　passed　quietly　and　monotonously　for　Mohammed　since　the　death　of　his　mother。

To　climb　among　the　rocks　with　his　gun　in　stormy　weather；　to　cross　over　in　his　boat　to　Imbra；　after　the　fishermen's　nets　and　fish；　and　to　tame　the　young　Arabian　steeds　of　the　tschorbadji　that　had　as　yet　known　no　bridle；　these　were　now　Mohammed's　chief　pursuits　and　pleasures；　and　in　them　he　engaged　with　passionate　ardor　when　at　leisure；　that　is；　when　not　with　his　friend　Osman　Bey。

That　which　they　had　vowed　to　each　other　after　the　death　of　Mohammed's　mother；　they　had　kept…true　and　firm　friendship；　brotherly　and　confidential　intercourse。　With　one　wish　only　of　young　Osman；　had　Mohammed　not　complied：　he　had　not　gone　to　live　with　him　in　the　proud；　governmental　building…had　refused　to　share　his　friend's　luxury　and　magnificence；　and　to　allow　his　poverty　to　be　put　to　shame　by　the　benefits　which　he　would　have　been　compelled　to　accept。

The　hut；　inherited　from　his　parents；　he　retained　as　his　own　dwelling。　In　it　nothing　had　been　changed；　the　mat　on　which　his　mother　had　died　was　now　his　bed。　In　the　pitcher　out　of　which　she　had　drunk；　he　each　morning　brought　fresh　water　from　the　spring；　and　all　the　articles　she　had　used；　poor　and　miserable　as　they　were；　now　constituted　the　furniture　of　his　hut。

In　vain　had　Osman　continually　renewed　his　entreaties：　〃Come　to　me。　Live　with　me；　not　for　your　own　sake；　Mohammed。　I　know　that　you　despise　luxury；　and　that　the　splendor　that　surrounds　us　is　offensive　to　you。　Not　for　your　own；　but　for　my　sake；　Mohammed；　come　to　me　and　live　with　us。　My　father　is　so　anxious　to　have　you　do　so；　for　he　knows　that　your　presence　is　the　best　medicine　for　me。　I　feel　so　well　and　strong　when　I　look　at　you；　Mohammed；　and；　when　you　sometimes　yield　to　my　entreaties　and　spend　the　night　with　me　in　my　room；　it　seems　to　me　I　sleep　better；　for　I　know　that　my　friend　is　watching　over　me。　Stay　with　me；　Mohammed！〃

These　soft　entreaties；　accompanied　by　tender　looks；　touched　Mohammed；　but　they　could　not　shake　his　resolution。

〃I　cannot　and　dare　not　accept；　Osman。　It　would　make　me　unhappy；　I　should　feel　myself　under　too　much　restraint；　I　must；　above　all；　preserve　the　consciousness　of　being　perfectly　free　and　independent。　I　must　feel　that　I　can　leave　when　I　choose；　and　for　this　very　reason　is　it　so　sweet　to　remainto　be　with　you；　unfettered　for　your　sake　only；　Osman。　If　I　should　come　and　live　with　you　in　the　palace　of　the　tschorbadji；　do　you　not　think　I　should　be　an　object　of　dislike　to　your　slaves　and　servants；　that　they　would　point　at　me　when　I　passed；　and　whisper：　'How　proud　and　insolent　he　is；　and　yet　he　is　less　than　I！　We　are　the　slaves　of　our　master；　and　repay　with　our　work　the　money　he　spends　on　our　account。　But　what　is　he？　A　proud　beggar　supported　by　charity；　who　has　the　impudence　to　give　himself　the　airs　of　a　gentleman。'　Your　slaves　would　say　this　of　me；　and　mock　me　with　my　beggar　pride。　But；　as　it　is；　I　am　free；　and　my　clothing　is　my　own。　It　is　certainly　not　as　handsome　as　yours；　the　caftan　not　embroidered；　the　shawl　not　of　Persian　make；　and　the　kuffei　around　my　fez　not　inworked　with　gold。　But　yet　it　is　my　own；　and　it　pleases　me　to　be　thus　plainly　dressed；　as　it　becomes　the　son　of　Ibrahim　Aga。　I　live　as　it　becomes　me；　my　hut　is　dark　and　poorbut　it　is　mine；　and　in　it　I　am　a　free　man。　I　do　not　sleep　on　soft　cushions；　a　plain　mat　is　my　bed；　but　on　this　mat　my　mother　reposed；　and　on　it　she　died。　To　me　it　is　sacred。　I　pray　to　my　mother　each　night；　Osman；　and　I　greet　her　each　morning　when　I　drink　out　of　the　wooden　cup　so　often　touched　by　her　lips。　I　should　have　to　give　up　all　this；　and　come　here　to　repose　in　splendid　apartments；　sleep　on　silken　mattresses；　and　allow　myself　to　be　waited　on　by　slaves　who　do　not　belong　to　me。　No；　Osman；　do　not　demand　this；　let　me　come　to　you　each　day；　of　my　own　free…will　and　love。〃

He　extended　his　hand　to　his　friend；　who；　as　usual；　lay　reclining　on　his　couch；　and　Osman　pressed　it　warmly　in　his　own。

〃You　are　a　proud　boy；〃　said　he；　in　low　tones；　〃and　though　your　refusal　gives　me　pain；　I　can　still　understand　that　in　your　sense　you　are　right；　Mohammed。　In　short；　you　do　not　wish　to　be　grateful　to　anybody。〃

〃And　yet　I　am　grateful　to　you；　Osman；〃　said　Mohammed；　regarding　him　tenderly；　〃all　my　heart　is　full　of　gratitude　and　love　for　you；　but　how　much　do　I　owe　to　you！　Is　it　not　for　your　sake　that　your　father；　the　proud　tschorbadji；　is　so　kind　and　friendly　to　me？　Does　he　not　allow　me；　the　lowly　born；　to　sit　with　him　at　his　table；　and　treat　me　as　his　equal？〃

〃Because　he　well　knows　that　you　would　otherwise　never　come　to　me　again；〃　said　Osman；　with　a　sad　smile。　〃He　is　careful　not　to　hurt　or　offend　you　in　any　way；　for；　as　you　know；　my　father　loves　me　very　dearly；　and　it　would　give　him　pain　to　deprive　me　of　the　only　friend　I　possess。　My　father　knows　that　you　are　my　benefactor；　and　that　I　live　from　your　life；　Mohammed。　Look　at　me　wonderingly；　if　you　will；　I　am　a　sick　child；　and　shall　remain　one；　although　years　have　made　me　a　youth。　And　let　me　tell　you；　Mohammed；　I　shall　never　become　a　strong；　healthy　man。　I　have　very　weak　lungs；　inherited　from　my　mother；　and　if　it　were　not　for　you；　if　I　had　not　been　sustained　by　your　heal