"Have you resolved to leave me and assume command of the
troops?"
"Yes, my dear father, I have. It is time I showed myself to be a
man! And do you not think the uniform of a bim bashi will become me
well; and that I, too, have some desire to parade in my finery
before beautiful women, and be honored with their gracious looks?"
"You are jesting, my son," said the tschorbadji, sadly. "With a
grave air your lips speak joyous words of which your heart knows
nothing. No, you cannot deceive your father. It is not the uniform
that charms you, nor has or can war have any thing attractive for
you."
"You mean by that, father, that a sickly, weak man, like myself, can
take no pleasure in military service. Believe me, it will make me
healthier and stronger. I have been treated like an invalid long
enough, and have not benefited by such treatment. Let us now defy
fate and ill health. Moreover," he continued, after a short pause,
"moreover, I have chosen Mohammed to be my companion, my lieutenant,
in order that I might have a strong arm to lean on. With Mohammed at
my side, I shall have no fear in the conflict. His presence will
give me the needful strength. I tell you I feel stronger and better
already. But now let me go and put on my uniform. And do you not
think you will be proud of my soldierly appearance yourself when you
walk down to the ship with me, and hear people whisper to each
other: 'That is Osman! We would not have believed him to be so
stately and strong a man!' Tell me, would this not gladden your
heart?"
He nodded to his father, and without awaiting his answer turned and
went hastily to his apartments, to put on his uniform.
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