"Courschid is
deposed, and Mohammed Ali is our governor! Long live Mohammed Ali!"
His head bowed down on his breast, Mohammed stands listening to the
grateful words: "Long live Mohammed Ali!"
The cadi re-enters the apartment. "You have heard their voice! Now
show yourself to the people. They have chosen you. Step out upon the
balcony with us, that they may salute you."
"It shall be as you say," said he, after a pause. "The people call
me, and I will greet them. May Allah assist me in advancing their
welfare!"
The cadi takes his hand and leads him out. Without, the assembled
thousands shout exultingly: "Long live our new governor! Our
caimacan! Our viceroy! Long live Mohammed Ali Pacha!"
These strains resound so loudly through the city, that they reach
the citadel. Everywhere in the streets exulting voices cry:
"Courschid Pacba is deposed, and Mohammed Ali is our governor!"
"I am alone viceroy here in Cairo," is the burden of a missive
penned by Courschid in the citadel, and, sent down by him to the
cadi and sheiks. "I alone am viceroy. Upon me the grand-sultan at
Stamboul has conferred this dignity, and a message will soon come
from our master announcing to you his decision with regard to the
rebel, Mohammed Ali. Until then I will assert my authority, and I
appeal to all faithful subjects, and to all who do not wish to
hazard their future with the rebels, and to perish with them, to
rally to the support of their lawful ruler.
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