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Parker, Gilbert, 1860-1932

"The Weavers: a tale of England and Egypt of fifty years ago - Complete"

"
Mahommed rocked backwards and forwards in his delight. "Oh, now art thou
like a lamp of Paradise, even as a star which leadeth an army of stars,
beloved," he said. He rubbed his hands together. "Thy witness and his
shall send Achmet to a hell of scorpions, and I shall slay the
bridge-opener with my own hand--hath not the Effendina secretly said so
to me, knowing that my Pasha, the Inglesi, upon whom be peace for ever
and forever, would forgive him. Ah, thou blossom of the tree of trees--"
She rose hastily, and when he would have kissed her hand she drew back to
the wall. "Touch me not--nay, then, Mahommed, touch me not--"
"Why should I not pay thee honour, thou princess among women? Hast thou
not the brain of a man, and thy beauty, like thy heart, is it not--"
She put out both her hands and spoke sharply. "Enough, my brother," she
said. "Thou hast thy way to great honour. Thou shalt yet have a thousand
feddans of well-watered land and slaves to wait upon thee. Get thee to
the house of Haleel. There shall the blow fall on the head of Achmet, the
blow which was mine to strike, but that Allah stayed my hand that I might
do thee and thy Pasha good, and to give the soul-slayer and the
body-slayer into the hands of Kaid, upon whom be everlasting peace!" Her
voice dropped low.


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