" Now, when you come to think of it, boys and girls, that
is a nice sort of fame to have--to remain for--let me see how many
hundred years?--nearly four--Dearest-Lady, or Dearest-Gentleman to all
the world.
This Dearest-Lady was, of course, the Heir-to-Empire's grand-aunt, and
the mere sound of her name was enough to calm Foster-father's fears.
Even Head-nurse, though she sniffed a little and said she had heard tell
that the Khanzada Khanum was a trifle careless of ceremonials, was
satisfied. There was no doubt that she was the Highest-Born-in-the-Land.
As for little Prince Akbar himself, he only opened his big, grave eyes
widely when the tall white figure clasped him closely in its arms and
kissed his hair softly.
"So like his grandfather," she murmured, "so like! so like!--the very
hands, the very feet--so strong, so shapely." And both in turn felt the
touch of the soft old lips. "And thou, too, small maiden," she continued
kindly, "welcome to one who has never yet let it be said in her hearing
that God made women weaker than man! Thou shalt learn here to be proud
thou wast born a girl. And you also, Nurse! Bring cooling sherbets,
slaves, while she tells me all that has happened."
Then she sat and listened while Head-nurse told the tale of what had
happened, and her faded, gay, old face flashed and sparkled and grew
grave by turns.
"But where is Tumbu?" she interrupted, "and where is Down? Bring them
hither, slaves! Lo! I love all animals, as my dear brother did!"
And she laughed over their doings, and wept over Old Faithful's death,
while Bija and Mirak sat cuddled up close beside her, listening also and
enjoying the tale of their own adventures as if they had happened to
other children!
"Surely," she said softly when Head-nurse ended, "my dearest brother--on
whom be peace--must have protected them! Lo! Mirak! and Bija--for I
shall call you naught else since they are sweet kindly names, better
than fine sounding titles--this very afternoon ye shall come with me to
the garden he loved, and where his earthly form lies at rest, and lay
flowers on his grave for thanks.
Pages:
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137