He made his way to a far quarter of the
Palace, thoughtfully weighing the circumstances, and was met by Mizraim.
Mizraim salaamed. "The height of thy renown be as the cedar of Lebanon,
Excellency."
"May thy feet tread the corn of everlasting fortune, son of Mahomet."
They entered the room together. Nahoum looked at Mizraim curiously. He
was not satisfied with what he saw. Mizraim's impassive face had little
expression, but the eyes were furtively eager and sinister.
"Well, so it is, and if it is, what then?" asked Nahoum coolly.
"Ki di, so it is," answered Mizraim, and a ghastly smile came to his
lips. This infidel pasha, Nahoum, had a mind that pierced to the meaning
of words ere they were spoken. Mizraim's hand touched his forehead, his
breast, his lips, and, clasping and unclasping his long, snakelike
fingers, he began the story he had come to tell.
"The Inglesi, whom Allah confound, the Effendina hath blackened by a
look, his words have smitten him in the vital parts--"
"Mizraim, thou dove, speak to the purpose!" Mizraim showed a dark
pleasure at the interruption.
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