"Gladly, master; she has already told me so herself, and I am ready," said he, commanding the dromedary to kneel down. Mohammed sprang into the palanquin, and the sheik followed him.

"Farewell, Butheita," he cried. She did not answer; she did not wish to go out, as he might see her tears, and her father, too, might observe them. She therefore remained silent. She had drawn the curtain over the entrance to the inner apartment, and lay on the mat weeping; weeping and laughing at the same time, for joy and pain-- ecstasy and pain were contending for victory in her heart. "He is gone, gone! and yet he is ever with me."

The dromedary flew over the desert still more swiftly than in the morning, his feet hardly touching the ground; clouds of sand were whirled aloft, and enveloped the animal and the riders as with a thick veil. No one saw them, and, had any one seen them, he could not have told who they were.

Arrived at the boundary line of the desert, where two horses awaited them, the sheik halted. Having dismounted with Mohammed, he addressed a few loud words to the dromedary; it turned, and flew homeward across the desert.

"It knows the way," said the sheik, smiling. "It will return alone to Butheita."

They mounted the horses, and rode on swiftly through meadows, and palm and sycamore groves.

The sheik now drew rein. "Do you see that black line standing out against the evening sky? That is your camp. If you desire it, I will accompany you farther. It rests with you to decide."

"I will ride on alone, sheik. Farewell, and accept this for your hospitality."

He held out to the sheik a purse filled with gold-pieces. The latter proudly rejected it.

"With one breath you say things that do not agree with each other.

You wish to pay me, and yet you say you have enjoyed my hospitality.

The guest does not pay, unless it be with love and friendship. If you pay me in that way, I shall rejoice, and Butheita also, I know."

"O sheik, I thank you both for your hospitality, and will love you and hold you in good remembrance. Farewell, sheik!"

He pressed his knees to his horse's flanks and rode off in a rapid gallop. Evening had already sunk down when he approached the plain where his soldiers lay encamped. He dismounted, and left his horse to return alone. He then glided stealthily to the rear of his tent, and, raising the canvas, slipped in. No one was in this apartment where his couch lay, but in the first one he heard loud voices. His officers were speaking of him. They were making anxious inquiries and conjectures as to where the general might be, and were considering whether they should make further search for him or break up camp and return to Cairo. They were the voices of his bim bashis and boulouk bashis. Smiling, he listened for a time to their conversation. He then drew back the curtain and stepped into the outer apartment. A joyous shout greeted his entrance. They eagerly rushed forward, and anxiously inquired where he had been, the meaning of his absence, and if any evil had befallen him.

He gazed at them haughtily.

"Am I, the general, to be called to account by you, my officers?"

They instantly ceased speaking, and saluted him with profound obeisance.

"I know," continued he, in milder tones, "that sympathy for me prompted your inquiries, and will therefore tell you where I have been. I rode last night, entirely alone, to Damanhour, where I knew Youssouf Bey lay with his men. I wished to learn if we could reach them in time, and therefore rode with the wings of the wind. When I reached their camp, the battle had already begun. It was too late to march to Youssouf Bey's assistance. I therefore did what I could, drew my sword and fought in the ranks as a common soldier. The day was adverse; the Turkish army lies defeated on the plain of Damanhour! Now let us remain here and wait. If the victors, the Mameluke beys, feel disposed to try their fortune in another battle, by Allah they shall find us ready to receive them! But, if they do not show themselves by tomorrow, we will turn and march back to Cairo. Now go and announce to the soldiers what has taken place."

They bowed profoundly, and the deference and silence with which they now left the tent were in marked contrast with their previous noisy behavior. The general knew how to impress them with a sense of his superiority; they all recognized in him a great man, and felt his iron hand on their necks. All now grows still in the camp. The soldiers retire to rest, and Mohammed also sinks down on his mat to repose, and, if possible, to sleep after so much fatigue and excitement.

But sleep refused to come at his bidding. He arose and walked to and fro in his tent for a long time. At first he was merely the loving man, and beheld only Butheita's countenance; but the hero in him soon gained the upper hand. Mohammed profoundly considered Osman Bey's words, and how he must shape his future. His keen vision had observed and made him acquainted with the men who surrounded him, and with the relations to which he must now either conform or against which be must now rise in arms. He had been in a state of doubt and hesitation all along; his future was enveloped in a thick veil, and he was not aware what shape his destiny was to take; yet he had closely observed all. He bad seen that poor Egypt was a plaything of ambition, of rapacity, of intrigue--a prey for all.

Nowhere in the midst of this reign of intrigue and passion had he seen law and justice prevail. He saw only a province trodden under foot, a bleeding land, that must perish in its citizens, unless a deliverer should come who knew how to bind up and heal its wounds.

Could he be its deliverer? Was it his mission to raise up the downtrodden people from the dust, to erect for himself a throne upon the ground that smoked with the blood of so many victims? Was this his mission, and was there a way that would lead him up the steep ascent to the throne? All this he considered earnestly and profoundly throughout the entire night, and, when the rising sun had dispelled the clouds of the morning, it was clear, too, in his soul.

He saw the way he must go to reach his goal.

"And this way I will go," said he to himself, in low tones. "I will consider nothing but my interest and my aim. I will avail myself of all means that are useful. Wise, shrewd, cautious, using every thing, and recoiling from nothing, let this be the motto of my immediate future: 'To overthrow the enemy by rebellion were unwise; he who usurps another's place is always a rebel, and deserving of punishment.' I must be called to the throne by the people themselves, then I shall be a legitimate ruler. To attain this be your task, Mohammed Ali. Equip yourself and collect your energies.

Be the lion and the tiger, the serpent and the hero: in this way only can you accomplish your end."

Early on the following morning the videttes announced to the sarechsme that no trace of the enemy was anywhere to be seen.

"Then we shall return to Cairo," said the sarechsme to his bim bashis; "give orders to prepare to march."

The loud shouts of joy that resounded without announced to the sarechsme that the soldiers were well pleased to return home. "I am, too!" said he to himself, smiling. "I am well pleased that we are not compelled to confront the Mamelukes! Perhaps we shall soon be fighting side by side!"

In the meanwhile intelligence of the defeat of the Turkish army had reached Cairo. Many had heard it with intense satisfaction, many with sorrow, according to whether they were friends or enemies of the viceroy.

Yet, when Mohammed Ali's troops marched through the streets, they were greeted with shouts of joy. They returned, as the sarechsme had ordered, quietly to their barracks.

Mohammed Ali also repaired to his house to rest and to wait.

In the meanwhile the remnant of the defeated army had also returned to Cairo; and Youssouf Bey, who had succeeded in making his escape from the slaughter, repaired, at the very hour when Mohammed entered the city with his troops to the citadel, to the viceroy. With furious despair and tears of rage, he told the story of his terrible defeat, thinking by this display of anguish to wash his hands of the disgrace of having been vanquished with three thousand Turks by eight hundred Mamelukes! But, as though the number of his troops ought not to have been sufficient to insure victory over the small force of the Mamelukes, he sought to throw the blame on others.

"I was betrayed--betrayed! Mohammed Ali and Taher Pacha are to blame for this disaster. They should have come to my assistance, but they left me to shift for myself. That is infamous conduct! Here, before your throne, I accuse of treason, above all, Mohammed Ali, and also Taher Pacha! They knew I was in danger: had they come up, I should not have lost the battle; but they did not come, because they desired my downfall, in order that they might ascend to the height of your favor over my neck! They are both traitors. I entreat you to cause searching inquiries to be made, and to hold to a strict accountability those who so shamefully deserted me."

Cousrouf Pacha felt deeply touched by the anguish and despair of his favorite, and perhaps he also felt a foreboding rise in his heart that Mohammed Ali was still his enemy, and was seeking revenge for his long-since-destroyed happiness.

"You are right, Youssouf Bey. I promise you strict investigation shall be made, and woe to them if they fail to justify themselves!"

A messenger entered to announce to the viceroy that Mohammed Ali had returned to Cairo with his troops. The viceroy immediately dispatched a messenger to the sarechsme, ordering him to come up to the citadel at once, and without any delay whatever, to render account to the viceroy of his action.

Mohammed heard the command with perfect composure. "Tell the viceroy that I will come up to the citadel tomorrow, in the broad light of day, with my soldiers. My weary troops must rest tonight, and without them I do not desire to appear before your master.

Therefore, tomorrow morning, rest assured that I shall come."

As he had said, in the broad light of day, and accompanied by his soldiers, the sarechsme repaired to the citadel. An ominous cry resounded from their lips as they stood before the gateway, and this cry was heard in the apartment of the viceroy.

"We demand our pay! We want bread, we want money!" This was the soldiers' cry. Now, surrounded by his bim bashis and boulouk bashis, the sarechsme entered the apartment of the viceroy, Cousrouf Pacha, who was awaiting him. In utter disregard of deference and usage, the general did not wait to be addressed by the viceroy. With a military greeting, he stepped forward and said, in a loud voice:

"As you hear, highness, your troops have come to demand of you that to which they have assuredly long been entitled--they have come to demand their pay!"

"I see," said Cousrouf, in low tones, casting a furtive glance of hatred at Mohammed--"I see that you are still the insolent boy of Cavalla!"

"I believe," replied Mohammed, also speaking in subdued tones--" I believe we are both what we then were; and I shall prove it to you!"

He stepped back. No one had heard the brief conversation that passed between them, but every one saw Cousrouf's cheek grow pale, and his eye sparkle with anger.

"I will send you an answer," said he, after a pause. "Return to your house, and order the soldiers to return to their barracks. My defterdar will bring you an answer."

He turned and left the apartment.

"Well, for this time we will be patient and wait," said Mohammed, addressing his officers.

His voice was threatening, and his officers understood that their general was prepared to resort to extreme measures, and they rejoiced over it, for the viceroy was always haughty and overbearing in his manner toward them, and they all hated him. They would all have been pleased to see their bold general revolt against him.

"We will wait," they whispered to each other--" we will wait! What our sarechsme does, we will do also!"

They returned, in obedience to his command, to their quarters and barracks.

The sarechsme, Mohammed Ali, a peculiar smile on his lips, also returned to his palace.

"The decisive hour approaches! Cousrouf Pacha shall be convinced that I, as he says, am still the same Mohammed Ali I was at Cavalla!

Yes, still the same, and still determined to have revenge!