Mohammed has also hurried down to the beach. To-day, while his heart
and mind are filled with the narrative of the scha-er, to-day every
thing seems to him so strange, so wonderful; it seems to him that he
is about to receive intelligence from the world his whole being
longs for so intensely, the world that is one day to lie at his
feet.
The ship has entered the bay, and a boat containing three Turkish
gentlemen is coming from it to the shore: They haughtily step
ashore, and pass by, without saluting the crowd, to the pathway that
leads up to Cavalla. But the grand-looking Turk is still on deck,
reclining on his cushions; the slaves are still about, filling and
refilling his long chibouque, on whose golden mouth-piece brilliants
are seen glittering.
Mohammed's keen eyes observe all this, and he follows each movement
of the aristocratic Turk with breathless attention. Thus, he thinks,
will he also do some day; thus will he, too, recline on his silken
cushions, surrounded by his slaves he; the prince!
How would those who were standing around the boy have laughed if
they could have divined Mohammed's thoughts, if they had known that
he was dreaming of his future magnificence while standing there on
the beach in his wide cotton pants, tied at the bottom around his
ankles with strings, his felt thrust into a pair of peaked shoes of
doubtful color, a faded red shawl bound around his waist, on his
body a well-worn brown shirt, the whole crowned with the red
tarboosh that covered his dark hair, around which was wound a white
and riot particularly clean kufei!
Who could have imagined that this poor Turkish child was dreaming of
future glory, and saying to himself, as he regarded the grand
gentleman on the deck of the ship: "I will one day be as you are,
and even greater than you!"
The governor, accompanied by the strange Turks, and followed by
servants carrying palanquins, was now observed coming down the
pathway from Cavalla.
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