I interceded for you, and Bardissi gave me his solemn promise that
the tax should not be enforced."
The spacious mosque resounds with shouts of delight. The people cry,
"Long live Mohammed Ali!" All rush forward to grasp his hand and
assure him of their friendship and devotion.
Mohammed feels that he has won the people by his shrewd course.
Those who meet him in the streets salute him with reverence and
devotion, and call down blessings on his head. When they meet the
Mameluke beys, they look down and knit their brows; they have made
themselves odious to the people, and are hourly becoming more and
more detested by them. The thunder-clouds are gathering rapidly on
the heads of the Mameluke beys. They see the coming storm in the
angry looks of those who approach them; they feel it in the solitude
that surrounds them. Curses are invoked upon their heads by the
people, and not blessings, as upon Mohammed Ali's head.
Mohammed quietly prepares for the future; nothing is left to
accident. No unlooked--for event must break in upon his plans, and
destroy him with the rest. Let the fruit fall when ripe, and fall so
deep into the abyss that no hand can pluck it thence!
The consuls have left Cairo, but after a few days the French consul
returns secretly to the city, accompanied by the chief secretary of
the governor, Courschid Pacha; at night and disguised, they glide
stealthily through the streets of Cairo.
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