"I thank thee, Allah, that he is saved!" she murmured to herself. "I
thank thee! He would have been excited to ungovernable wrath, and he
would have been punished and imprisoned as a rebel. I have saved
him! What have I now to fear? Let the worst befall, provided only
that he be safe!"
The carriage moved slowly up the Muskj Street, through dense crowds
of people. It was market day, and the street was thronged with
people, who complained so loudly of the intruding carriage and
horsemen that Sitta Nefysseh, aroused from her meditations, leaned
forward and drew the window curtains aside. The people, who in their
wrath had not observed that the cadi and his officers constituted
the escort of the carriage, now became silent as they saw the woman
at the window, and peered in with curiosity.
Sitta Nefysseh raised her veil and displayed her countenance to the
multitude. "It is Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's widow!" resounded in
the street. The cry was repeated until the gaze of all became fixed
on the carriage in astonishment. "What does it mean?"
Buying and selling were no longer thought of. The people followed
the carriage, which moved slowly through the crowded street toward
the viceroy's citadel, in dense masses. It was in vain that the cadi
ordered them to disperse; in vain that the officers threatened them
with drawn swords. They only pressed on in denser masses, increased
by the people who came Rocking from their houses to see Mourad Bey's
widow, who sat tranquilly in the carriage with her two women.
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