We must now change the scene to the interior or harem of Delì Pasha’s palace, which was separated by a high wall from the exterior building. There was, however, a private door pierced in the wall, by means of which the Pasha could pass from his salamlik to his harem, which door was, as usual in Turkish houses, guarded by several eunuchs, who relieved each other on guard day and night. One wing of the harem was assigned to the Pasha’s two wives and their attendants, while the other was assigned to his only daughter, Amina, whose mother had died in her infancy, her place being supplied by a middle-aged Turkish lady, named Fatimeh Khanum, who enjoyed the title and authority of Kiahia, or chief of the harem.

All the Pasha’s affections were centred in his daughter Amina, and she was one of whom any father might be proud; she was about sixteen years of age, and though her figure was rather above the average height, it was so beautifully formed, and rounded in such exquisite proportions, that every movement was a varied though unstudied grace.

Her face was one of those which defy the poet’s description or the portraiture of the artist; for although each lovely feature might be separately described, neither pen nor pencil could depict their harmony of expression nor the deep lustre of those large liquid eyes, whose fringes, when she cast them down, trembled on the border of her downy cheek.

Her beauty was already so celebrated in Cairo that she was more generally known by the name of Nejmet-es-Sabah^[52] than by her own. Many among the highest of the beys and pashas had demanded her in marriage, but she was so happy with her father, and he loved her with such intense affection, that he had never yet been able to make up his mind to part with her. He spoilt her by indulging her in every whim and caprice, and yet she was not spoilt, partly owing to the gentleness of her disposition and partly owing to the care which Fatimeh Khanum, who was an unusually sensible and well-informed woman, had taken in her education.

From the latticed window in her boudoir, Amina had witnessed the whole of the scene described already; clapping her hands together with excitement, she had called Fatimeh to her side.

“Fatimeh,” she cried, “who is that stranger, taller by the head than all the others?”

“I know not, my child,” said Fatimeh. “I have never seen him before.”

“Oh, the wild horse will kill him,” said Amina, with a half-suppressed shriek, as she saw the horse rear and fall backwards. “No, he is on it again, and unhurt,” she cried, again clapping her hands together for joy. Another half scream burst from her as she saw the wild horse and horseman clear the wall, and again when he repeated the same perilous leap.

Amina often sat behind the lattice of her window and amused herself by looking at her father’s retainers when playing the jereed,^[53] and though herself invisible to them, she knew many of them by name, and almost all by sight.

“Oh, Fatimeh,” she cried, “when you go downstairs do not forget to make one of the slaves inquire who is that strange youth. We never saw such a horseman, did we, Fatimeh? and then he has such a——” Amina paused and blushed a little.

“You were going to say such a handsome face and figure,” said Fatimeh, smiling. “I daresay he is a new Mameluke of your father’s, but I will find out and tell you who he is this evening.”

They then withdrew into the outer apartment, and resumed the work which the noise made by the wild horse had interrupted.

Amina was making a beautiful embroidered purse for her father, and Fatimeh arranging some ornament of her favourite pupil’s dress, when a slave entered and said that the Pasha required Fatimeh Khanum’s presence in the salamlik. Throwing her veil over her head, she immediately obeyed the summons.

The Pasha was alone, having ordered his attendants to withdraw.

“How is my Amina, my Morning Star, to-day?” he exclaimed as soon as Fatimeh entered.

“Praise be to Allah, she is well, and her fingers are employed on a purse for your Excellency.”

“The blessing of Allah be upon her,” said the Pasha; “she is my heart’s delight. Inshallah! when I have finished the business now in hand I will come to her. Tell her that I will sup with her this evening.” He then proceeded to inform her that he had been appointed by the Viceroy to be Governor of Siout in Upper Egypt, and that in a few weeks he should take his departure, with all his family, to his new post. He proceeded to discuss with her the arrangements which it might be advisable to make for the conveyance of his daughter and for the other ladies of his harem.

Meanwhile Hassan, after seeing Shèitan secure in the stable, had returned to the house and inquired where he might find the Pasha.

“He is upstairs, in the salamlik,” said the young Mameluke whom he addressed. “You will find him in the large room at the end of the passage on your right; he has dismissed us from attendance, but he has asked twice for you; better that you make haste; Delì Pasha does not like to wait.”

Hassan rapidly mounted the stairs, and following the direction he had received, ran rather than walked along the dimly lighted passage which led to the Pasha’s room. Just as he reached the end, and was about to enter, he encountered a woman coming out, and the concussion was such that she must inevitably have fallen had he not caught her in his arms. As it was, the shock was such that it displaced her veil, and for a few seconds she was unable to speak. Hassan saw that she was a middle-aged woman, who still retained traces of early beauty; it was Fatimeh Khanum retiring from her interview with the Pasha.

“I hope you are not much hurt, lady,” said he in a tone of respectful solicitude, and depositing her gently on a stone seat at the side of the passage.

“Not hurt,” she replied, with difficulty regaining her breath, “but very much frightened.”

“I cannot forgive myself for being so careless,” he continued; “but I was in haste to obey the Pasha’s summons. I hope you forgive me; you can be sure I meant no rudeness to you.”

“I believe it, young Aga,” she replied with a smile, fixing her eyes involuntarily on the open and animated countenance before her. “I am recovered now; you had better go in to the Pasha, who is waiting.”

Hassan, after saluting her respectfully, left her and entered the Pasha’s room.

“You have not been very quick in obeying our summons,” said the latter, with a slight frown on his brow.

Hassan explained the accident by which he had been detained in the passage.

“What!” he cried, bursting out into a fit of laughter, “so you nearly knocked down our poor Kiahia Khanum, did you? I am glad she was not hurt. She is a good, kind-hearted soul. Now come here, Hassan, and tell me if you know anything of the postscript added by Mohammed Ali’s order to the merchant’s letter?”

“Nothing,” replied Hassan. “His Highness gave his orders in a whisper to the interpreter.”

“Well, it is written in this letter that I am to pay you ten purses [£50], and I shall order the money to be given to you this evening.”

The Pasha made Hassan give him an account of his interview with the Viceroy, and of his affray with the Government kawàss on the canal, at which latter Delì Pasha laughed heartily; he then continued—“Hadji Ismael speaks so highly of you in his letter, that I propose at once to offer you the vacant post of khaznadâr in this house. My khazneh [treasury] is not very full, and will not occupy you much, so I shall expect you to assist in the purchase of horses which I am making for Ibrahim Pasha.”

Hassan stepped forward, and having placed the edge of the Pasha’s pelisse to his forehead in token of acknowledgment, retired from the room.

“I like that young giant,” said Delì Pasha to himself as Hassan withdrew. “His manners are so quiet and his face so prepossessing; but there is the devil in his eye when his blood is roused, as I saw this morning.”

Hassan was no sooner alone than he remembered the letter given him by his old friend Mohammed Aga, in Alexandria, to Ahmed Aga, Delì Pasha’s master of the horse, and hearing that he had gone to the stables, followed and rejoined him. Ahmed Aga, who had been an admiring spectator of Hassan’s performance with Shèitan, was already prepossessed in his favour, and when he read the letter which Mohammed Aga’s partiality had dictated, he welcomed Hassan with great cordiality; and as Ahmed himself was a man of open, honest countenance and sterling good qualities, they were disposed to like each other from the very first.

Hassan having communicated to his new friend that he had received the appointment of khaznadâr, the latter exclaimed—

“Mashallah! that is a good beginning; but the post is not so agreeable, for it brings you into constant collision with Osman Bey, the wakeel, who has charge of all Delì Pasha’s lands and property. He is a spiteful, jealous, and dangerous man. I fear he has taken a dislike to you already.”

“To me!” said Hassan, in surprise. “What can I have done to offend him?”

“You have offended him mortally by riding that horse Shèitan, which he was unable to mount; and as he is a good horseman, and very proud of his horsemanship, he is very angry at your having subdued that which he described this morning to the Pasha as a wild beast, perfectly untameable.”

“If he is spiteful against me on such grounds as those,” said Hassan, smiling, “I cannot help myself. I shall do my duty, and not trouble myself about his spite.”

Ahmed Aga shook his head, as if Osman Bey were not a pleasant subject to speak upon.

“Come,” he said, “let us go into the house. As khaznadâr you are entitled to a separate room, a privilege enjoyed by none of the Mamelukes.”