"Summoned, you call it?" cried she, passionately. "I call it being dragged here in a disgraceful manner!"

"Compose yourself, Sitta Nefysseh; let us converse calmly. I have grave reproaches to make."

"Against me?" asked she, in astonishment.

"Yes, serious, grave reproaches! You are of the opinion, are you not, that every mistress is responsible for the actions of her servants?"

"I am, because, if one has bad and faithless servants, he should discharge them. Yes, it seems to me a master is responsible for his servants' actions."

"And therefore, have I summoned you to this audience. Do you know what your kachef Youssouf has done?"

Sitta Nefysseh trembled. It was fortunate that her veil concealed her features, and that Cousrouf could not see the deathly pallor that overspread her cheeks.

"My kachef?" said she, with forced composure. "Of what is he accused?"

"He is accused of attempting to bribe my soldiers, and incite them to revolt and treason."

"That is not true!" exclaimed she, passionately. "That is a falsehood, and I tell you so to your face! My words are true. My kachef has never done such things; he is incapable of inciting any one to a breach of faith or to treason. He is the truest and best of my servants."

"And yet it is true. Your kachef has incited my soldiers to treason.

The viceroy says it is true!" cried Cousrouf. "Youssouf attempted to corrupt one of my own soldiers, an Armenian, urging him to go over to Osman Bardissi. When the soldier refused, he promised to give him the same pay he now receives from me."

"Highness, that is not true, I swear it is not!"

"Here is the proof!" answered Cousrouf, rising to his feet and taking from the table a paper, which he unfolded. "Here is the proof! Here it is, plainly written in his own handwriting! Herein your kachef Youssouf promises my soldier, Sadok Aga, to give him his whole pay, and even double the amount, if he will undertake to ride to Bardissi's camp and convey a letter to the bey. Here it is in his own handwriting, and signed by him."

"Highness, I beg you to let me see the writing," said Nefysseh, extending her hand to take the paper. "Let me see it; I can read."

Cousrouf did not comply with her request. He folded the paper, and laid it on the table again.

"It is unnecessary that you should read it. I insist that your kachef endeavors to corrupt my soldiers and induce them to desert to Bardissi's camp. This is clearly treason. As you yourself admit that a mistress is responsible for her servant's actions, I declare and shall hold you, Sitta Nefysseh, responsible for your servant's crime."

"That you cannot do, highness! Youssouf is no longer my servant, is no longer in my house. I have discharged him, not because I thought ill of him, not because I desired to punish him, but because I esteem him, because I know he was created for something better than to be only the servant of a woman. I discharged him because his courage and nobility of soul urged him to draw the sword and go out to battle. He has gone to Bardissi's camp to serve in the ranks of his Mamelukes."

"That is to say," cried Cousrouf, in angry tones--"that is to say, Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's widow raises soldiers in her house for the army of our enemy!"

"Could your highness expect Mourad Bey's--the Mameluke chieftain's-- widow to raise soldiers for the enemies of her deceased husband?"

asked she, throwing her head back proudly. "Yet let me remark this: my expression was badly chosen. Sitta Nefysseh does not occupy herself with raising soldiers. Youssouf was brought up by my husband, and has remained in my house these few years since his death. He had grown weary of the effeminate life he was leading, and begged to be discharged from my service. I did as he requested. I am not his mother, not his sister, and not his relative. He is a freeman, and puts his freedom to the best use. But I tell you that he is not guilty of the charge you make against him--he never wrote that paper. And do you know why not, Cousrouf? Because he does not know how to write. He is a warrior, and only knows how to write indelible characters on the faces of his enemies with his sword; and, believe me, I should recognize these characters if they were inscribed on your face--I should recognize the handwriting of my kachef; but the characters on that paper are not his."

"Truly, Sitta Nefysseh, your audacity is great!" cried Cousrouf.

"But, it seems to me, yours is far greater; forgive me for saying so, highness. Man and woman we stand before each other, and you have publicly branded the woman, who is conscious of no shame, with disgrace."

"How can you make such a charge against me? What is it that I have done? You yourself acknowledge that the master is justly responsible for his servants' actions, and I repeat it: your kachef has endeavored to draw my soldiers from their allegiance, to corrupt them. I have accused you of nothing else."

"Yes, you have more than accused me of other crimes!" cried she, throwing back her veil, her eyes sparkling with indignation. "Look at me! In me, you have put the woman, put Mourad Bey's widow to shame. You have caused me to be brought from my house by policemen.

That is to say, you have insulted, in me, womanly virtue and honor!"

"How so?" asked Cousrouf, in astonishment.

"Do you know so little of the customs of our land? You, the Viceroy of Egypt, do not know that, when women are led through the street by the police, it is equivalent to branding them as lost to all shame; that they are delivered over to the police to be punished by being conducted through the public streets, to the disgrace of their entire sex!"

"You go too far," replied the viceroy. "I did cause you to be conducted here. I sent to you one of the first dignitaries of my court, the cadi; I did this to honor you. To be thus conducted by the cadi through the street is not disgraceful, as in the case of the women you speak of. In your own carriage you were escorted by the cadi and his servants, and your good name and honor, which I respect in common with all the world, cannot have suffered thereby.

Yet your conduct has been culpable, you are responsible for your kachef's deeds; and through him I accuse you of treason, and you, Nefysseh, must suffer for your servant's crime."

"Then, take my life, if that will benefit you," said she, quietly.

"I have nothing to give you but that. If you take my life, you will be accused of murder, and, believe, this accusation will be heard by all Cairo. I have nothing more to say. Deal with me as you think proper."

"You challenge my enmity, you shall have it! It were wise on your part to beg me to pardon Youssouf, to withdraw the accusation, and to declare yourself ready to pay the required sum to my soldiers."

"Where is Mourad Bey's widow to obtain the money? Your men have remained in my house, let them search for treasure there. Let them take what they find. Mourad's widow is poor, and your endeavor is vain. You will find nothing of value in my house; long wars have made Mourad's widow poor. And, if I had money, I would rather cast it into the Nile, than to give it to the enemies of my husband!--Now I have spoken and relieved my heart. Now do with me as you think proper, Cousrouf. This I will, however, repeat, my kachef Youssouf did not write the characters on that paper. He is not capable of corrupting men from their allegiance. Do you desire my life? If so, take it! But if you venture to do so, prepare yourself to meet all Cairo in insurrection. Allah is just! You will then see all Cairo, held by you in fetters until now, rise up and burst its bonds, and shake its mane in lion-like wrath."

"We shall see if our lion really rises in its wrath, when I, as I am in duty bound, do justice to those who have done wrong and committed crimes!"

He arose from his divan, stepped to the door, and called one of his servants. In answer to his call, a servant hastened into the room.

"Conduct Sitta Nefysseh to the house of Sheik Hesseyni, who lives in the old citadel; tell him to guard her well, and not to allow any one to see her."

"Tell him, cadi," said Nefysseh, quietly, "tell him to guard me as every jailor guards his prisoner; that is the true meaning of the viceroy's words. Farewell, Cousrouf--I am going to my prison! May your conscience reproach you as little as mine does me! Farewell!"

She drew her veil over her countenance, and slowly left the apartment. At the door sat her two women weeping and sobbing. She commanded them to follow her, and walked on as composedly as if she were the princess of this palace. She swept down the marble stairway to her carriage, as if about to take a drive.

"Sitta Nefysseh, it will not be necessary to enter your carriage,"

said the cadi, who had followed her. "We shall only have to pass through that little side-door to be in the sheik's house."

"Ah, you desire to prevent the people, who are calling so loudly after me, from seeing me in my degradation, or rather the degradation of those who tread law and propriety under foot in their treatment of me."

"Sitta Nefysseh, I know nothing of the charges made against you,"

replied the cadi, gruffly. "I obey the orders of the viceroy; the rest does not concern me."

"That is certainly the most convenient course," said she, derisively, and quietly submitting when he took hold of her arm and led her across the court to the little gate in the wall. The women followed her. Their tears no longer flowed, and they seemed to consider themselves happy in being at least allowed to accompany their mistress.

Dense masses of people still stood without. They called loudly for Sitta Nefysseh, swearing by Allah that they would not leave until she should be released. But what can the poor, defenceless people do when confronted by armed soldiers, ready to fire destructive volleys among them? What can they do but sullenly retire under such circumstances? This they now did. About the citadel quiet now reigned, but the streets below were still thronged with dense crowds, from out whose midst the cries continually resounded: "Sitta Nefysseh has been arrested! She has been shamefully conducted through the streets to the citadel by the police! She has been publicly insulted! She, the noblest of women, is accused of a great crime!"

When night came, the excitement and fury of the populace had not yet subsided. Early on the morning of the following day, dense masses of people surged to the house where Hesseyni, the chief sheik of the city, resided, and demanded with loud clamors that he should liberate Sitta Nefysseh.

The sheik had given serious consideration to this difficult and embarrassing case, and, before the people forced an entrance, had already determined to comply with their demands.

In solemn procession, their green turbans on their heads, and enveloped in their long flowing caftans, with their costly ermine collars, the entire body of sheiks repaired on foot to the palace.

With grave and solemn bearing, these representatives of public justice demanded that they should be conducted to the viceroy's presence.

He received them in his apartment, advancing to meet them with a kindly greeting.

"What do you desire, friends? You know I am always glad to hear the wishes of the people as pronounced by you, their representatives."

"Then listen to these wishes, highness!" said one of the sheiks.

"The people, and we with them, desire that Sitta Nefysseh, who was yesterday forcibly taken from her house, be permitted to return to the same. Her house has been shamefully ill-used, Cousrouf Pacha!

Your police have treated it like the house of an enemy. Nothing has remained in its place; every thing is overturned and thrown about.

They were looking for treasure, highness, and they found nothing.