Woe to him! woe to him ! The governor is kind, we have nothing
to fear from him. Mohammed Ali alone is our foe--woe to him!"
This was the cry from one to the other; all joined in it; they all
raised their fists menacingly against Mohammed Ali. "May he hear our
curses, and see our threatening hands! We will be avenged on him for
what he has done to us. He shall be repaid for all the evil he has
done to the sheik; of this he can rest assured. We have loved and
been kind to him; we have treated him as if he were our child; he is
indebted to us for all he is, and for all he can do. From us he
learned to manage a boat, to use a gun--and thus has he rewarded us.
Woe to him!" This cry resounded again and again from boat to boat:
"Woe to him! Woe to Mohammed Ali, the son of Sitta Khadra!"
But he heard nothing of all this; neither the curses, nor the
laughter and shouts of joy. He had gone to his solitary resort on
the rock above. There he was alone, without fear of being observed
by the eyes of men. There no one could hear his wails of anguish.
There he was alone with wind and waves. Alas, how short a time had
elapsed since he had stood there in joy and exultation! His soul had
revelled in all the delights of the world, in all the glories of
Paradise. Only a few hours had passed, and yet it seemed to him that
he was entirely transformed, that he had became another man since
then.
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