There all is gayety; the decorated boats dance merrily and rapidly
over the waves; the Mameluke beys are going by sea to Alexandria, to
take part in the festival of the newly-arrived admiral. There will
be warlike games and races; a grand banquet is prepared for the
guests; there will be music, dancing, and singing; altogether it
will be a most brilliant festival. The Mameluke beys esteem
themselves happy in having been invited by the capitan pacha to take
part in this glorious festival. To-morrow peace will be concluded
between them and the grand-sultan. To-morrow their lands will be
given them and the boundaries determined, but let to-day be a fete
day, a day of rejoicing.
Mourad's widow, Sitta Nefysseh, is standing at the entrance of her
tent, her countenance closely veiled, looking at the Mamelukes who
are going down to the shore to their boats. She sees that the Turks
stand aside, and that only the Mamelukes enter the boats.
"You are not going with us?" ask the astonished beys of their
Turkish friends. They shake their heads, and only step farther back
from the shore.
"No, ye proud beys, this honor is for you alone, you alone go with
the capitan, you alone are invited to attend the grand festival of
the English admiral, Lord Hutchinson. We remain here to await
longingly your return, in order that you may tell us of the
brilliant festival.
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