Let the artillerists stand by
their guns, with burning fuses, and await my orders! Let the
soldiers be drawn up around the fortress with loaded muskets! And
you, messenger, go back to your master, and tell him to send the
rebels to me. I will give them the reception they deserve."
The messenger returned by the same secret passage to his master, and
delivered the viceroy's message, and the delighted defterdar
presented himself on the balcony once more.
"Go to the citadel, to the viceroy, he will receive you, and give
you your money; I have none!"
"Allah il Allah !" cried the soldiers. "The viceroy is a great man!
He will deal justly with us!"
The dense masses of rebels surged up the Muskj Street toward the
citadel. They have reached their destination. There stands the
citadel. But what does this mean? The gates are closed. "The viceroy
has sent for us; we wish to see him to demand our pay!" Suddenly the
guns of the fortress hurl their deadly contents among them. "We are
betrayed! They are murdering us!" yell the infuriated rebels,
drawing their ataghans, and rushing upon the Turkish soldiers who
are endeavoring to drive them from the citadel, fighting them man to
man. And now the three hours have elapsed, and new masses of
soldiers are storming up the height! These are Mohammed Ali's
troops, now let loose! Like the others, they clamor for pay, and,
like the others, they rush upon the Turkish soldiers.
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