I am
not content to live like my fathers in a beautiful palace, amid my woods
and mountains, with Kochlani steeds, falcons that would pull down an
eagle, and nargilehs of rubies and emeralds. I want something more than
troops of beautiful slaves, music and dances. I want Europe to talk of
me. I am wearied of hearing nothing but Ibrahim Pasha, Louis Philippe,
and Palmerston. I, too, can make combinations; and I am of a better
family than all three, for Ibrahim is a child of mud, a Bourbon is not
equal to a Shehaab, and Lord Palmerston only sits in the Queen's
second chamber of council, as I well know from an Englishman who was at
Beiroot, and with whom I have formed some political relations, of which
perhaps some day you will hear.'
'Well, we have arrived at a stage of your career, Fakredeen, in which no
combination presents itself; I am powerless to assist you; my resources,
never very great, are quite exhausted.'
'No,' said the Emir, 'the game is yet to be won. Listen, Rose of Sharon,
for this is really the point on which I came to hold counsel. A young
English lord has arrived at Jerusalem this week or ten days past; he
is of the highest dignity, and rich enough to buy the grand bazaar of
Damascus; he has letters of credit on your father's house without
any limit.
Pages:
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311