"
"Then, O pacha! will you permit your slave to send for some bottles of
the fire-water of the Giaour, that we may drink and smoke until we are
elevated to the seven heavens?"
"Nay, good vizier, that is as a last resource, for it is forbidden by
the laws of the Prophet. Think once more, and thou must have no more
brains than a water-melon, if this time thou proposest not that which
will give me ease."
"Thy slave lives but to hear, and hears but to obey," replied Mustapha.
"Then will it please my lord to disguise himself, and walk through the
streets of Cairo; the moon is bright, and the hyena prowls not now, but
mingles his howlings with those of the jackal afar off."
"Your face is whitened, Mustapha, and it pleaseth us. Let the disguises
be prepared, and we will sally forth."
In a short time the disguises were ready, the vizier taking care that
they should be those of Armenian merchants, knowing that the pacha would
be pleased with the similarity to those worn by the great Alraschid; two
black slaves, with their swords, followed the pacha and his vizier at a
short distance. The streets were quite empty, and they met with nothing
living except here and there a dog preying on the garbage and offal, who
snapped and snarled as they passed by. The night promised nothing of
adventure, and the pacha was in no very good humour, when Mustapha
perceived a light through the chinks of a closed window in a small
hovel, and heard the sound of a voice. He peeped through, the pacha
standing by his side.
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