Voices from the Other World Read Online Free PDF Page B

and why not?”
    M. Saroux broke in, “How deservedly happy and jubilant we French should be! But I must tell your Excellency sincerely that I fear this may bring you a great many troubles.”
    When I seconded M. Saroux’s view, the Pasha shifted his blue eyes back and forth between us with a sarcastic expression, and asked in feigned ignorance, “But why?”
    Without hesitation, I said, “The press would find that quite a subject!”
    â€œThere is no doubt that the nationalist press is your old enemy,” said Dr. Pierre. “Have you forgotten, Your Excellency, their biased attacks against you, and their accusations that you squander the money of the Egyptian peasants in France without any accountability?”
    The Pasha sighed in dismissal, “The money of the peasants!”
    Apologetically, the doctor hastened to add, “Please forgive me, Pasha—this is what they say.”
    Pursing his lips, His Excellency shrugged his shoulders disdainfully, as he adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles over his eyes, saying, “I pay no heed to these vulgar voices of denunciation. And so long as my artistic conscience is ill at ease with leaving these miracles amidst this bestial people, then I will not permit them to be entombed here forever.”
    I knew my friend the Pasha’s opinion of the Egyptians and his contempt for them. It is said in this regard that the year before, a gifted Egyptian physician, who had attained the title of “Bey,” came to him, asking for the hand of his daughter. The Pasha threw him out brutally, calling him “the peasant son of a peasant.” Despite my concordance with many of the Pasha’s charges against his countrymen, I could not follow his thinking to its end.
    â€œYour Excellency is a very harsh critic,” I told him.
    The Pasha giggled, “You, my dear Dorian, are a man who has given his entire, precious life to the past. Perhaps in its gloom you caught the flash of the genius that inspired the ancients, and it has inflamed your sympathy and affection for their descendants. You must not forget, my friend, that the Egyptians are the people who eat broad beans. ”
    Laughing too, I bantered back, “I’m sorry, Your Excellency, but do you not know that Sir Mackenzie, professor of English language at the Faculty of Arts, has recently declared that he has come to prefer broad beans to pudding?”
    The Pasha laughed again, and so did we all with him. Then His Excellency said, “You know what I mean, but you like to jest. The Egyptians are genial animals, submissive in nature, of an obedient disposition. They have lived as slaves on the crumbs from their rulers’ banquets for thousands of years. The likes of these have no right to be upset if I donate this museum to Paris.”
    â€œWe are not speaking about what is right or not right, but about reality—and the reality is that they
would
be upset about it,” said Saroux. “And their newspapers will be upset about it along with them,” he added, in a meaningful tone.
    Yet the Pasha displayed not the slightest concern. He was by nature scornful of the outcry of the masses, and the deceitful screams of the press. Perhaps due to his Turkish origins, he had the great defect of clinging to his own conceptions, his pertinacity, and his condescension toward Egyptians. He did not want to prolong the discussion, but closed the door upon it with his rare sense of subtlety. He kept us occupied for an hour sipping his delicious French coffee—there was none better in Egypt. Then the Pasha peered at me with interest, “Are you not aware, M. Dorian, that I have begun to compete with you in the discovery of hidden treasures?”
    I looked at him quizzically and asked, “What are you saying,
Excellence
?”
    The Pasha, laughing, pointed outdoors through the salon’s window, “Just a short distance from us, in my palace garden,