"
"And who was this man?"
"He was a French general. They called him Bonaparte, and he was a
great man. It seems to me you resemble him, Mohammed Ali; like him
you seem to stand gazing out upon the world, conscious of power and
heroism, and resolved to bring it into subjection, as he was, but
could not. For, observe, this was his mistake: he assumed a hostile
attitude toward the Mamelukes, instead of seeking their friendship.
And this I now hope of you, Mohammed Ali, that you will make friends
of the Mamelukes, and not remain on the side of our treacherous
enemies the Turks. It does not beseem you. Your soul is great, and
your actions heroic! Why are you with the Turks? It does not beseem
you."
"It does not beseem me!" cried Mohammed excitedly; "truly it does
not beseem me-"
"Be still, my friend, I pray you!" said Bardissi, interrupt ing him.
"Listen first to what I have to say. Do you know whence I come? Look
at me! Do you see these dark spots on my clothing? 'Tis blood,
Mohammed Ali, human blood. It splashed on me from many a wound! Go
thither, Mohammed Ali; go to the plain of Damanhour. The bodies of
the dead lie thick there--the bodies of dead Turks, Mohammed Ali!"
"And the bodies of many Mamelukes also, I should think," rejoined
Mohammed quickly.
Osman Bey shook his head slowly. "Not many! You are in error,
Mohammed Ali. We hurriedly counted them.
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