Donovan Pasha and Some People of Egypt | Page 9

and said: "No better are ye than a Frank
to have hidden the truth so long and waxed fat as the Nile rises and
falls. The two feddans, as thou sayest, are mine."
Abou Seti bowed low, and rejoined, "Now shall I sleep in peace, by the
grace of Heaven, and all my people under my date-trees--and all my
people?" he added, with an upward look at the Mudir.
"But the rentals of the two feddans of land these ten years--thou hast
eased thy soul by bringing the rentals thereof?"

Abou Seti's glance fell and his hands twitched. His fingers fumbled
with his robe of striped silk. He cursed the Mudir in his heart for his
bitter humour; but was not his son in prison, and did it not lie with the
Mudir whether he lived or died? So he answered:
"All-seeing and all-knowing art thou, O effendi, and I have reckoned
the rentals even to this hour for the ten years--fifty piastres for each
feddan--"
"A hundred for the five years of high Nile," interposed the Mudir.
"Fifty for the five lean years, and a hundred for the five fat years," said
Abou Seti, and wished that his words were poisoned arrows, that they
might give the Mudir many deaths at once. "And may Allah give thee
greatness upon thy greatness!"
"God prosper thee also, Abou Seti, and see that thou keep only what is
thine own henceforth. Get thee gone in peace."
"At what hour shall I see the face of my son alive?" asked Abou Seti in
a low voice, placing his hand upon his turban in humility.
"To-morrow at even, when the Muezzin calls from the mosque of El
Hassan, be thou at the west wall of the prison by the Gate of the
Prophet's Sorrow, with thy fastest camel. Your son shall ride for me
through the desert even to Farafreh, and bear a letter to the bimbashi
there. If he bear it safely, his life is his own; if he fail, look to thy
feddans of land!"
"God is merciful, and Seti is bone of my bone," said Abou Seti, and
laid his hand again upon his turban. That was how Mahommed Seti did
not at once pay the price of the grindstone, but rode into the desert
bearing the message of the Mudir and returned safely with the answer,
and was again seen in the cafes of Manfaloot. And none of Ebn
Haroun's friends did aught, for the world knew through whom it was
that Seti lived--and land was hard to keep in Manfaloot and the prison
near.

But one day a kavass of the Khedive swooped down on Manfaloot, and
twenty young men were carried off in conscription. Among them was
Seti, now married to Ahassa, the fellah maid for whom the grindstone
had fallen on Ebn Haroun's head. When the fatal number fell to him
and it was ordained that he must go to Dongola to serve in the
Khedive's legions, he went to his father, with Ahassa wailing behind
him.
"Save thyself," said the old man with a frown.
"I have done what I could--I have sold my wife's jewels," answered
Seti.
"Ten piastres!" said old Abou Seti grimly. "Twelve," said Seti, grinning
from ear to ear. Thou wilt add four feddans of land to that I will answer
for the Mudir."
"Thy life only cost me two feddans. Shall I pay four to free thee of
serving thy master the Khedive? Get thee gone into the Soudan. I do
not fear for thee: thou wilt live on. Allah is thy friend. Peace be with
thee!"

II
So it was that the broad-shouldered Seti went to be a soldier, with all
the women of the village wailing behind him, and Ahassa his wife
covering her head with dust and weeping by his side as he stepped out
towards Dongola. For himself, Seti was a philosopher; that is to say, he
was a true Egyptian. Whatever was, was to be; and Seti had a good
digestion, which is a great thing in the desert. Moreover, he had a
capacity for foraging--or foray. The calmness with which he risked his
life for an onion or a water-bag would have done credit to a prince of
buccaneers. He was never flustered. He had dropped a grindstone on
the head of his rival, but the smile that he smiled then was the same
smile with which he suffered and forayed and fought and filched in the
desert. With a back like a door, and arms as long and strong as a

gorilla's, with no moral character to speak of, and an imperturbable
selfishness, even an ignorant Arab like Seti may go far. More than once
his bimbashi drew a sword to cut him down for the