The Pacha of Many Tales Part 13

"Holy Prophet! what a Turk!" exclaimed the vizier; lifting up his hands.

"Here is your money, kafir;--don't forget to be here to-morrow."

"Never fear me, vizier; your slave lives but to obey you, we Turks say."

"We Turks!" muttered the vizier, as he cast his eyes upon the retiring figure of the renegade. "Well of all the scoundrels--"

"Well," muttered the renegade, who was now out of hearing, "of all the scoundrels--"

Whom they were referring to in their separate soliloquies must be left to the reader's imagination; for caution prevented either of the parties from giving vent to the remainder of their thoughts.

VOLUME ONE, CHAPTER SIX.

"Mashallah! How wonderful is G.o.d! Did the caliph Haroun ever hear such stories?" observed the pacha, taking the pipe from his mouth, as he was indulging in company with Mustapha: "that infidel tells strange histories of strange countries--What will his mouth open to next?"

"The Shaitan bacheh, for a son of the devil he still is, although he wears the turban and bows to Allah, will prove a treasury of amus.e.m.e.nt to your sublime highness," replied Mustapha: "but what are the words of the sage?--'If thou hast gold in thy hazneh, keep it locked, and add thereto; thus shalt thou become rich.'"

"They are the words of wisdom," replied the pacha.

"Then may I advise your highness to walk out this evening in search of more, and not exhaust that which is in your possession?"

"Wallah thaib! It is well said!" answered the pacha, rising from his musnud or carpet of state: "the moon is up--when all is ready we will proceed."

In a quarter of an hour the pacha, attended by Mustapha and the armed slaves as before, again set out upon their perambulations through the city of Cairo.

They had not walked more than half an hour when they observed two men sitting at the door of a fruit-shop, at high words with each other. The pacha held up his finger to Mustapha, as a sign to stop, that he might overhear their discourse.

"I tell you, Ali, that it is impossible to hear those long stories of yours without losing one's temper."

"Long stories!" whispered the pacha to Mustapha with delight: "the very thing!--Shukur Allah! Thanks be to G.o.d!"

"And I tell you in reply, Hussan, that yours are ten times worse. You never have spoken for ten minutes without my feeling an inclination to salute your mouth with the heel of my slipper. I wish there was any one who would hear us both, and decide the point."

"That I will," said the pacha, going up to them: "to-morrow I will hear both your stories, and decide upon the merits of each."

"And who are you?" observed one of the men with surprise.

"His highness the pacha," replied Mustapha, coming forward. Both the men prostrated themselves, while the pacha directed Mustapha that they should be brought before him on the following day; and the vizier, having given them in charge to the slaves who had followed at a distance, returned home with the pacha, who was delighted at the rich harvest which he expected to reap from the two people who accused each other of telling such long stories.

When the divan of the following day had closed, the two men were summoned into the presence of the pacha.

"I shall now decide upon the merits of your stories," observed he. "Sit down there both of you, and agree between yourselves which of you will begin."

"May it please your highness, you will never be able to listen to this man Ali," observed Hussan: "you had better send him away."

"Allah preserve your highness from all evil," replied Ali, "but more especially from the talking of Hussan, which is as oppressive as the hot wind of the desert."

"I have not sent for you to hear you dispute in my presence, but to hear your stories. Ali, do you begin."

"I do a.s.sure your highness," interrupted Hussan, "that you will not listen to him three minutes."

"I do a.s.sure you," retorted the pacha, "that if you say one word more, until you are ordered, you will be rewarded with the bastinado for your trouble. Ali, begin your story."

"Well, your highness, it was about thirty years ago, _you know_, that I was a little boy, _you know_."

Here Hussan lifted up his hands, and, smiled.

"Well your highness, _you know_--"

"I don't know, Ali: how can I know until you tell me," observed the pacha.

"Well then, your highness must know, that ever since I was born I have lived in the same street where your highness saw us seated last night, and thirty years, _you know_, is a long period in a man's life. My father was a gardener, and people of his condition, _you know_, are obliged to get up early, that they may be in time for the market, where, _you know_, they bring their vegetables for sale."

"This is all very true, I dare say," observed the pacha, "but you will oblige me by leaving out all those _you knows_, which I agree with your comrade Hussan to be very tedious."

"That's what I have already told him, your highness: 'Ali,' _says I_, 'if you can only leave out your _you knows_,' _says I_, 'your story might be amusing, but,' _says I_--"

"Silence with your _says I's_," observed the pacha; "have you forgotten the bastinado? there seems to be a pair of you. Ali, go on with the story, and remember my injunction; the felek and ferashes are at hand."

"Well, your highness, one morning he rose earlier than usual, as he was anxious to be first in the market with some onions, which, _you know_, are very plentiful; and having laden his a.s.s, he set off at a good round pace for the city. There, _you know_, he arrived at the market-place a little after the day had dawned, when, _you know_--"

"Did you not receive my orders to leave out _you know_. Am I to be obeyed or not? Now go on, and if you offend again you shall have the bastinado till your nails drop off."

"I shall observe your highness's wishes," replied Ali.--"A little after the day had dawned, _you_--no, he, I mean, observed an old woman sitting near one of the fruit-stalls, with her head covered up in an old dark-blue capote; and as he pa.s.sed by, _you_--she, I mean, held out one of her fingers, and said, 'Ali Baba,' for that was my father's name, 'Listen to good advice; leave your laden beast and follow me.' Now my father, _you know_, not being inclined to pay any attention to such an old woman, replied, _you know_--"

"Holy Allah!" exclaimed the pacha in a rage to Mustapha, "what does this man deserve?"

"The punishment due to those who dare to disobey your highness's commands."

"And he shall have it; take him out; give him one hundred blows of the bastinado; put him on an a.s.s, with his face turned towards the tail; and let the officer who conducts him through the town proclaim, 'Such is the punishment awarded by the pacha to him who presumes to say that his highness knows, when in fact, he knows nothing.'"

The guards seized upon the unfortunate Ali, to put in execution the will of the pacha; and as he was dragged away, Hussan cried out, "I told you so; but you would not believe me."

"Well," replied Ali, "I've one comfort, your story's not told yet. His highness has yet to decide which is the best."

After a few minutes' pause, to recover himself from the ruffling of his temper, the pacha addressed the other man--"Now, Hussan, you will begin your story; and observe that I am rather in an ill-humour."

"How can your highness be otherwise, after the annoyance of that bore Ali? I said so; 'Ali,' _says I_--"

"Go on with your story," repeated the pacha angrily.

"It was about two years ago, your highness, when I was sitting at the door of the fruit-shop, which your highness might have observed when you saw us last night, that a young female, who seemed above the common cla.s.s, came in, followed by a porter. 'I want some melons,' says she.

'I have very fine ones, so walk in,' _says I_, and I handed down from the upper shelf, where they were placed, four or five musk, and four or five water-melons.

"'Now,' _says I_, 'young woman, you'll observe that these are much finer melons,' _says I_, 'than you usually can procure; therefore the lowest price that I can take,' _says I_, 'is--'"

"Why your _says I's_ are much worse than Ali's _you knows_; leave them out, if you please, and proceed with your story," cried the pacha, with increased ill-humour.