I discharged him because his
courage and nobility of soul urged him to draw the sword and go out
to battle. He has gone to Bardissi's camp to serve in the ranks of
his Mamelukes."
"That is to say," cried Cousrouf, in angry tones--"that is to say,
Sitta Nefysseh, Mourad Bey's widow raises soldiers in her house for
the army of our enemy!"
"Could your highness expect Mourad Bey's--the Mameluke chieftain's--
widow to raise soldiers for the enemies of her deceased husband?"
asked she, throwing her head back proudly. "Yet let me remark this:
my expression was badly chosen. Sitta Nefysseh does not occupy
herself with raising soldiers. Youssouf was brought up by my
husband, and has remained in my house these few years since his
death. He had grown weary of the effeminate life he was leading, and
begged to be discharged from my service. I did as he requested. I am
not his mother, not his sister, and not his relative. He is a
freeman, and puts his freedom to the best use. But I tell you that
he is not guilty of the charge you make against him--he never wrote
that paper. And do you know why not, Cousrouf? Because he does not
know how to write. He is a warrior, and only knows how to write
indelible characters on the faces of his enemies with his sword;
and, believe me, I should recognize these characters if they were
inscribed on your face--I should recognize the handwriting of my
kachef; but the characters on that paper are not his.
Pages:
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549