"It is so determined, Sitta, and a man keeps his word!" His arms folded on his breast, he bowed down profoundly before her, and kissed the hem of her flowing gold-embroidered dress.

"Then may Allah accompany you! " said she, with a profound sigh.

"But let me say one thing more. When you behold my husband Mourad, up there, among the blessed, standing under the green flag of the prophet, say to him: 'Your wife has done her duty, she gave Osman the warning! She is innocent of our death!' and say to him also that his wife remains faithful to him in all things, and that she will love him alone throughout life. And now, farewell, Osman Bey Bardissi, and think of me in your death-hour!"

She raised her hands as if in a blessing, and then turned slowly away, drew aside the curtain, and stepped out of the tent to where her slaves and eunuchs awaited her.

Slowly she walked down the pathway between the tents, towing to the right and to the left to the Mamelukes, who threw themselves down before her in profound reverence. But when she passed by the tents of the Turks she veiled her countenance more closely, and her eyes glanced angrily through the delicate fabric.

"Traitors are they all!" murmured she, as she entered the tent where she dwelt with the women of Cousrouf, the second Mameluke chieftain.

"Yes, traitors, and our Mamelukes will be their victims! Yet I will endeavor to save as many of them as possible!"

While Sitta Nefysseh sat sorrowing on her cushion, paying but little attention to the songs which the slaves sang, and to the dances with which they sought to entertain their mistress, the joyous festivities of the Mamelukes and Turks were still going on. Osman Bey had promised to show his horsemanship to-day; and it was a beautiful spectacle to see him coursing along on his splendidly- caparisoned black charger, his sword uplifted in his hand. His eyes sparkled even more lustrously than the gems in the agraffe of the crescent on the sultan's turban. In the sash that encircled his waist glittered a pair of pistols and the jewelled hilt of a dagger, and whoever beheld Osman Bey said to himself:" This is a man! a hero who recoils from nothing!" Lightly bounding, his nostrils expanded, his eyes glowing, he now rode his steed around the wide circle of Mamelukes and Turks. With uplifted sword he then approached the horse that stood tied to a stake in the middle of the circle.

Trembling, and neighing anxiously, it saw the hero bearing down upon it at a full gallop; then Osman's sword glittered in the air, and the horse's head fell to the ground, severed from the body by a single blow. Loud and exulting shouts rewarded the bold rider for this proof of his wonderful skill and strength, and Osman bowed smilingly to the right and to the left, and then again drew in his reins, and made his steed bound as lightly and coquettishly as though it had learned its arts from the bayaderes.

Yes, Osman Bey is a great hero, and they all regard him with astonishment, the Mamelukes with joyous smiles, the Turks with serious countenances. While Osman Bey Bardissi lives, peace with the Turks is not to be thought of; while life lasts, he will aspire to greater eminence and power.

"How can peace be made with this powerful, haughty chieftain?" This is also murmured by the capitan pacha, who stands on the deck of the admiral's ship, and he orders that the Turkish ships weigh anchor, and sail out of the harbor of Alexandria. Yes, Sitta Nefysseh was right: the enemy lies in wait there. Three large Turkish ships have been lying at anchor there ever since the Mameluke beys have been holding fetes with the Turks at Aboukir. But to-day a fourth ship has arrived from Stamboul--a ship manned with three hundred well- equipped soldiers; and her captain's name is Osman, and his lieutenant is called Mohammed Ali.

CHAPTER VI

THE MASSACRE.

The capitan pacha had himself come over in his admiral's ship to greet the newly arrived soldiers, and to review the fleet of stately vessels-of-war. He graciously caused Osman, the bim bashi, and Mohammed Ali, the boulouk bashi, to be presented to him.

"You have employed the time well during your passage," said he, slightly inclining his proud head. "You have converted rude peasants into disciplined soldiers."

"It is not my work," replied Osman, who stood attired in his full uniform before the capitan pacha. "No, excellency, I suffered from the unaccustomed sea-voyage, and could hardly leave my cabin.

Mohammed Ali deserves all the credit; he drilled the soldiers on the deck incessantly, day and night."

"Well done, well done!" said the pacha. "His services will be recognized and rewarded."

"I beg your excellency to see that they are," said Osman, quickly.

"Truly my boulouk bashi deserves to be rewarded. I should like to take the liberty of suggesting how he can be rewarded."

With a haughty and astonished expression, the capitan pacha regarded the young man that stood blushing before him, his eyes sparkling with unaccustomed lustre. He considered it somewhat presumptuous to advise him, the capitan pacha. Yet this is not a time to be ungracious. The newly-arrived soldiers are to be used this very day, and should be kindly and cordially treated.

"Then tell me, bim bashi, how can I reward your lieutenant? I will gladly do so, if it is in my power."

"You have the power, if you have the will. I beg you to give the boulouk bashi my position."

"Give him your position! And what is to become of you?"

"Of me?" said Osman, smiling sadly. "Only what I have always been--a poor, weak invalid. Cousrouf Pacha, our distinguished guest, wished to show me a kindness, and, with this intention, appointed me him bashi. Yet I at once feared that my poor body would not be able to bear the fatigues of the service. I am weary and exhausted, and my weak arm falls to my side when I attempt to raise the sword. I beg that your excellency will graciously permit me to return home with the ship to Cavalla, after the soldiers shall have been disembarked.

I also entreat of your excellency that my boulouk bashi be made captain in my stead."

The capitan pacha turned and looked at young Mohammed Ali. Perhaps his tall, well-knit frame, and his earnest countenance, with its sparkling eyes, and his determined bearing, impressed him favorably.

"Bim bashi, we will see what can be done. It will depend chiefly on the events of this day, and I will observe your boulouk bashi closely. If he proves capable of doing well what I shall require of him, I give you my word he shall be made bim bashi, and you shall then be permitted to return to your home. I will, however, first observe your boulouk bashi, and see of what stuff he is made.--I have orders for you, boulouk bashi. But first tell me your name."

"I am called Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim Aga," replied Mohammed, inclining his head with an expression of such profound reverence that the proud capitan pacha was well pleased, and smiled graciously.

"Mohammed Ali, son of Ibrahim Aga, step aside with me; I have something to say to you."

The pacha walked to the end of the deck, motioning to the two slaves who accompanied him to withdraw; he then turned to Mohammed, who stood before him, his head bowed down in humility; his ear all attention to the words spoken by the pacha, in low, impressive tones.

Important words, of great and dangerous import, must they have been, that fell slowly one after the other, like drops of blood from the pacha's lips, for, from time to time, a deathly pallor overspread Mohammed Ali's cheeks, and a slight shudder coursed through his whole being. The pacha looked at him keenly, and said in a low voice, "One can see that you are a novice."

"Yes, a novice," replied Mohammed, "but I shall soon become accustomed to blood, and cease to recoil from dead bodies."

"Then you will achieve success in Egypt," said the pacha. "The air here is freighted with the scent of corpses, and the sea and the Nile have often been reddened with blood. We will see, boulouk bashi, if the waves at our feet are not once more made red with blood, and not with the rays of the setting sun. And now, boulouk bashi, it will be shown whether you have understood what I have said, and whether you are the man to execute my orders."

"I am your servant, excellency," replied Mohammed, quietly. "The soldier has no will of his own. I am an instrument in your hands, and I will faithfully carry out your orders."

"Then you will awaken to-morrow as bim bashi. And I believe that will only be the first step toward the fame that awaits you. I like you, boulouk bashi, and I wish you a brilliant career. And when you shall have reached the summit of renown, then remember, boulouk bashi, that it was I who gave you the key to the gates of honor.

Remember the day and the hour, for I have read a great future in your countenance."

He then inclined his head to Mohammed Ali, and returned to where Osman was standing, leaning against a mast, in utter exhaustion.

The pacha also spoke a few kindly words to him, and afterward entered his boat to return to the shore of Aboukir. Mohammed then walked up to his friend, took him in his arms like a child, and carried him down into his cabin. He laid him on the divan, knelt down beside him, and whispered in his ear: "Osman, no matter what you may see or hear, do not leave your cabin to-day. Stay here, my friend, and do not be anxious; if you hear a tumultuous noise, and outcries, do not be alarmed, even if death-groans should resound from the deck. The world is a hard thing, and he whose hands are not of iron should hold himself aloof from its rude contact. You, my Osman, are too good to play an active role in this miserable earthly existence; and I am, therefore, almost glad that you are to return to Cavalla; I repeat it, you are too good for this world."

"If it depended on goodness, Mohammed," said Osman, smiling, "you should not serve the world either, for you have a better heart than any of us."

Mohammed shook his head. "You are mistaken, you look at me with your kindly eyes, and give me credit for your noble thoughts. I am not good, no, do not believe that of me! Now that we are about to separate, I do not wish you to be deceived in your Mohammed Ali; I am only good when with you, and under the influence of your gentle nature; I fear I have the stuff in me of which hard and cruel men are made. But let us drop this subject. Duty calls me away. And let me repeat this, Osman, whatever outcries you may hear, whatever fearful noises may resound through your cabin, remain quietly here; remain here in peace, my Osman. The pack will soon be let loose, and your Mohammed, whom you call good, has been chosen by Fate to howl with it, and make common cause with the bloodhounds. Do not speak, Osman. Through blood must I march onward to my goal! There is no other road. Farewell, and remain here."

He ascended hastily to the deck, called the soldiers together, spoke to them for a long time in low, impressive tones, and issued his orders. They listened attentively to his words, and then hastily began to carry out his orders. They load their guns, try the locks, and then repair to the port-holes on the lower deck, and hold themselves in readiness to fire at the word of command.

There is to be a merry chase to-day. But after what game? Who has seen it? No one knows as yet.

The boulouk bashi will give the signal, and when he says "Fire!"

they will fire, no matter at what or at whom. The command will be given, and they will obey. It will be their first deed of arms, their baptism of fire.

The hour has not yet come. Mohammed is standing on the deck above, leaning against the mast, his arms crossed on his breast, looking over toward the shores of Aboukir.

There all is gayety; the decorated boats dance merrily and rapidly over the waves; the Mameluke beys are going by sea to Alexandria, to take part in the festival of the newly-arrived admiral. There will be warlike games and races; a grand banquet is prepared for the guests; there will be music, dancing, and singing; altogether it will be a most brilliant festival. The Mameluke beys esteem themselves happy in having been invited by the capitan pacha to take part in this glorious festival. To-morrow peace will be concluded between them and the grand-sultan. To-morrow their lands will be given them and the boundaries determined, but let to-day be a fete day, a day of rejoicing.

Mourad's widow, Sitta Nefysseh, is standing at the entrance of her tent, her countenance closely veiled, looking at the Mamelukes who are going down to the shore to their boats. She sees that the Turks stand aside, and that only the Mamelukes enter the boats.

"You are not going with us?" ask the astonished beys of their Turkish friends. They shake their heads, and only step farther back from the shore.

"No, ye proud beys, this honor is for you alone, you alone go with the capitan, you alone are invited to attend the grand festival of the English admiral, Lord Hutchinson. We remain here to await longingly your return, in order that you may tell us of the brilliant festival. We remain here!"

"They remain," repeated Sitta Nefysseh ; "they remain because death goes with the others in their boats. O Osman Bardissi! why would you not hearken to my words? I shall remain also, to await our dead."

In the large, richly-decorated boat, stood the capitan pacha, and beside him the chief Mameluke beys; among them are Osman Bardissi, the hero, the favorite of all the women, and Osman Tamboubji, now one of the most distinguished of all the beys. These two, especially, have been invited by the capitan to sail with him in his boat, and while with him what have they to fear?