Stay with me, Mohammed!"
These soft entreaties, accompanied by tender looks, touched
Mohammed, but they could not shake his resolution.
"I cannot and dare not accept, Osman. It would make me unhappy; I
should feel myself under too much restraint; I must, above all,
preserve the consciousness of being perfectly free and independent.
I must feel that I can leave when I choose, and for this very reason
is it so sweet to remain--to be with you, unfettered for your sake
only, Osman. If I should come and live with you in the palace of the
tschorbadji, do you not think I should be an object of dislike to
your slaves and servants; that they would point at me when I passed,
and whisper: 'How proud and insolent he is, and yet he is less than
I! We are the slaves of our master, and repay with our work the
money he spends on our account. But what is he? A proud beggar
supported by charity, who has the impudence to give himself the airs
of a gentleman.' Your slaves would say this of me, and mock me with
my beggar pride. But, as it is, I am free, and my clothing is my
own. It is certainly not as handsome as yours, the caftan not
embroidered, the shawl not of Persian make, and the kuffei around my
fez not inworked with gold. But yet it is my own, and it pleases me
to be thus plainly dressed, as it becomes the son of Ibrahim Aga. I
live as it becomes me; my hut is dark and poor--but it is mine, and
in it I am a free man.
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