there are peculiar circumstances connected with this gentleman. He
has fallen into disfavor, and is waiting here to see whether his sun
will shine again or not. He has been sent into exile, and it was
really intended that he should go to Egypt, where the Mamelukes of
whom you have just been relating such heroic stories, have again
risen in wild insurrection against the Turkish governor, and
Cousrouf Pacha is lying in wait here because he has good friends in
Stamboul who are working for him, and because he hopes to be able to
return to the beautiful capital where he can revel in luxury;
whereas, if he should go to Egypt, he would be compelled to draw the
sword and march out to bloody battle."

"I hate him--the coward!" exclaimed Mohammed. "I despise men who
prefer eating sugar with women in the harem, to mounting their
steeds and taking the field against the enemy, sword in hand."

"That will never be your preference," said Osman, regarding him
tenderly.

"No, never," protested the boy. "Women are good playthings for hours
of leisure, when a man has nothing better to do. But to revel, like
Cousrouf, in luxury--to hide himself while he might be attempting
deeds of heroism--to be dallying with women instead of mowing off
the heads of his enemies, that I cannot comprehend. It is repulsive
to me to think of a man's surrounding himself with women, and taking
delight in their caresses and soft words."

"It suits Cousrouf very well!" said Osman, smiling. "He spends the
greater part of his time in the harem. Singing, music, and
rejoicing, are the order of the day there. Black female slaves fan