How comes it that this
traitor's heart is touched?
Mohammed kneels down beside him.
"What is your name?" asks he, in low tones.
"Osman Bey Bardissi," replied the wounded man, and now, exhausted as
he was from loss of blood, a proud smile flittered over his handsome
countenance. "Not knowing me, you must be a stranger in Egypt,"
added he.
"Yes, I am a stranger in Egypt, and this accounts for my not knowing
you. Yet, it seems to me that we once met; were you not once on the
shores of the bay of Sta. Marmora?"
"Yes, I was once there!"
"Do you recollect meeting a boy there? You spoke to him of your
proud future."
"I remember," murmured the bey.
"And you spoke proud, contemptuous words to this boy. Do you still
remember his name?"
"I do; he was called Mohammed Ali, and I told him my name, Osman
Bey. Were you the boy?"
"I was, and there we first met, and now we meet again. I regret,
Osman Bey, that we meet as enemies."
Osman Bey Bardissi shook his head slowly. "We were enemies, Mohammed
Ali; yet, if Allah permits me to live, you shall soon learn that you
have found a friend. I well know that I owe you my life, and I shall
be grateful while life lasts."
He ceased speaking, and again lost consciousness.
Mohammed beckoned to one of the soldiers to approach. "Carry this
man to my cabin, and let no one dare to touch him with a rude hand.
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