" Once, to gratify this longing, I came
here, and then turned back, and said to myself. He who cannot
practice self-denial, cannot enjoy! And now I have practiced it, and
yet I have not enjoyed. But now I will enjoy, will enjoy death, at
least. Yes, I am resolved," said he, with trembling lips." I will
remain here and enjoy death. What does this struggling from day to
day avail this dreaming of future glory? Each succeeding day is in
poverty and misery the same. I was a fool to dream of future glory.
Now I will die. Let others be happy! Let the slave, Osman Bey,
attain what the free Mohammed cannot attain. He is welcome to his
reward death is at the end of it all, for him, too!"
He looks, through the opening in the rock, at the heavens above him,
and then rises higher to look down at the sea also, as though he
wished to take leave of it in a last glance. He then lies down on
his mat again. "Yes, let the slave Osman achieve glory, the free
Mohammed prefers death."
And yet, against his will, he must still think of the slave who has
gone out into the world over the sea to the wondrous land of Egypt,
where the caliphs were once enthroned, where their tombs still
stand, and where the Mamelukes now rule in their stead. He still
dreams of this wondrous land, with its ancient cities, and thinks
that these may be the death dreams that are to lull him to his
eternal rest.
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