And again they shouted: "Long live Cousrouf
Pacha, our deliverer in time of need, our savior!"
He bowed his haughty head, and his eyes rested passionately upon the
young maiden, kneeling upon the ground in her agony. From her his
glance passed over to Mohammed Ali. He saw the pain and anguish
imprinted upon the livid countenance of the youth, and smiled
triumphantly.
He withdrew from the window, and hastened down to the court-yard,
followed by the tschorbadji. He approached Masa, and, bending over
her, said, softly: "Rise, daughter of thy father. Your sorrow and
trouble have passed away. Be gay and happy once more. That which
wicked men sought to do unto you has been frustrated. Your father is
free.--Tschorbadji," said he, "command your servant Mohammed--
command him to unlock the gate of this cage, and to release the
prisoners he has guarded so closely."
"No!" shouted Mohammed, in a voice of thunder. With my consent alone
can it be opened!--Guard the gates, ye officers; I go in quest of
the key; and not one shall be released until, kneeling at my feet,
with their heads in the dust, the rebels pay to me the double tax.
What I have sworn--what I have sworn by my honor, that must be
done."
"We will not consent! We will never yield!" cried the men, rushing
about in confusion.
"Then the prisoners' heads shall fall!" cried he, exultingly waving
his sword in the air.
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