The tschorbadji looked after him sadly.
"If I could only discover what secret purpose induces my son to play
the soldier! I will ask Mohammed, and also request him to watch over
my son."
He went down into the court-yard where Mohammed, dressed in the
uniform of the boulouk bashi again, was engaged in drawing up his
soldiers in rank and file, preparatory to marching them down to the
harbor, where they were to embark. He beckoned to Mohammed to come
into the hall, and laid his hand gently on his shoulder. "I can
count on you, my friend, can I not?"
"Tschorbadji, you can count on me at all times, while life lasts!"
"You will watch over my Osman? " said he, in low tones. "You will
not permit him to undertake that which his body is unable to bear,
though his spirit be well equal to the task?"
"I will care for him as though he were my better self, as I would
for the woman I love!" said Mohammed. "I well know that his spirit
is strong, but his body is delicate. And therefore when he goes into
danger, and I cannot prevent it, I will protect him unto death, with
my own body! This I swear to you by Allah, and by my love for my
friend Osman!"
"I thank you, Mohammed," said the tschorbadji, deeply moved. "My
Osman is my only joy in life. You are a father, too, Mohammed, and
you know how a father loves his child."
"I do, tschorbadji," replied he, "and as a father I beg you to look
after my children sometimes.
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