There were Greeks with Austrian names;
Armenians, speaking Italian as their native tongue; Italians of
astonishing military skill, whose services were no longer required by
their offended country; French Pizarros with a romantic outlook, even in
misery, intent to find new El Dorados; Englishmen, who had cheated at
cards and had left the Horse Guards for ever behind; Egyptian intriguers,
who had been banished for being less successful than greater intriguers;
but also a band of good gallant men of every nation.
Upon all these, during the siege, Mahommed Hassan had been a
self-appointed spy, and had indirectly added to that knowledge which made
David's decisive actions to circumvent intrigue and its consequences seem
almost supernatural. In his way Mahommed was a great man. He knew that
David would endure no spying, and it was creditable to his subtlety and
skill that he was able to warn his master, without being himself
suspected of getting information by dark means. On the palace roof
Mahommed was happy to-night. Tomorrow would be a great day, and, since
the Saadat was to control its destiny, what other end could there be but
happiness? Had not the Saadat always ridden over all that had been in his
way? Had not he, Mahommed, ever had plenty to eat and drink, and money to
send to Manfaloot to his father there, and to bribe when bribing was
needed? Truly, life was a boon! With a neboot of dom-wood across his
knees he sat in the still, moonlit night, peering into that distance
whence Ebn Ezra Bey and his men must come, the moon above tranquil and
pleasant and alluring, and the desert beneath, covered as it was with the
outrages and terrors of war, breathing softly its ancient music, that
delicate vibrant humming of the latent activities.
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