The AzÂn, or evening call to prayers, had just ceased throughout Beejapoor. From mosque to mosque, and minaret to minaret, the sonorous and musical voices of the Muezzins had proclaimed the evening invitation to worship. It was still light, though the vivid hues of sunset were fading fast, and the warm red and orange tints, which had rested upon the minarets, domes, and gilded pinnacles of the palaces, mosques, and mausoleums of the superb city, were giving place to a sober grey. Here and there a star already twinkled in the heavens, and a few rosy clouds, on which the sun's rays rested lingeringly, floated away eastwards before a gentle breeze, that rustled among the tall palm trees. For a time the busy hum of the populous city seemed to be hushed, and the stillness and seclusion of the spot we have to describe, prompted those feelings of devotion which the time required.

It was one of those small yet elegant mosques, which are found scattered everywhere about the ruins that now exist, surrounded by enclosures that were once gardens, in which broken fountains and dry watercourses now only suggest visions of their former elegance and comfort, and where low brushwood and tangled grass have displaced the fragrant flowers and useful fruit trees of former days. Here and there a jessamine, now wild, trails over ruined walls and once trim garden terraces, or a long-lived hardy lime tree struggles for existence in the unwatered soil.

At the period of our tale, however, the building was in its full freshness and beauty. A single arch, of low Saracenic form, led into a square room vaulted by delicate groins, leading from the corners to the base of a cupola above. The floor was formed of chequers of black and white marble, highly polished; and the sides of the room, deeply indented by arched niches, were finished with stucco, which rivalled the marble in polish and purity of colour. Around the largest niche, at the end opposite to the entrance, and the arch in which the pulpit stood, were borders of delicate arabesque foliage, into which texts from the KÔrÁn, in coloured enamel letters, were skilfully and elegantly interwoven; while above the pulpit itself, in gold letters on a black ground, was the Arabic text, "La Alla, il Alla, Mahomed russool Alla;" "There is no God but one God, and Mahomed is the prophet of God." Two plain cotton carpets, striped red and white, had been placed before the pulpit, to be used by those who might come to the evening prayer.

Outside, the front of the mosque was composed of the dark-coloured basalt used in all the buildings of the city, beautifully finished as to the fitting of the stones, on which bold cornices and rosettes had been executed round the entrance arch, and about the projecting portion which supported the small minarets. Immediately above the archway, broad stone eaves crossed the face of the building, resting upon deep and richly carved brackets of black basalt, surmounted by a bold cornice, over which were fleurs-de-lis, forming the upper ornament. Under the projecting eaves, and on the crest of the entrance arch, were bright flowers in coloured enamel, bordered by frames of delicate white stucco work, which relieved the rich but monotonous tint of the stone, without disturbing the chaste effect of the whole. In the centre of the terrace, before the mosque, was a small fountain, for the purpose of ablution, which threw up a tiny thread of water to some height in the air, descending in a shower of light spray, and producing a faint, plashing sound, very grateful to the ear.

Above the mosque, and mingling with its slender minarets and thin gilded spires, a few cocoa-nut trees waved their graceful pendant leaves; and with them the heavy foliage of the fragrant moulserry, and the broad leaf of the plantain, with its tender yet vivid green, formed an harmonious contrast. Nearer the terrace was a group of orange trees, some weighed down by clusters of golden fruit, others covered with blossom, which, with the tuberoses around the fountain, and the evening jessamine now opening, gave forth to the cool evening air a fragrance almost overpowering. By day, the sun hardly ever reached the mosque, and it always appeared invitingly cool and quiet; but at this evening hour, shadow was rapidly deepening into gloom, adding a solemn effect which enhanced the beauty of this secluded spot.

Two persons stood by the fountain. They had just performed their ablutions, as the last quivering chant of the Muezzin, "La illa, il Ulla," issuing from the tall minaret of one of the neighbouring mosques, floated to them on the soft breeze: yet they appeared to hesitate ere they entered the mosque for the evening prayer. One of them was an elderly woman, clad as befitted the position of the favourite nurse and confidential female servant of a wealthy house, in a blue cotton petticoat of thick but fine texture, over which, and around her body and head, was a white muslin scarf. Her features were homely, yet good-natured, and she evidently regarded her companion,—who merits a fuller description,—with pride mingled with deep affection.

And, in truth, there were few fairer maidens in Beejapoor, even among the wealthy and high-born nobles, than Zyna, the only daughter of Afzool Khan. Her features might be called irregular, according to any European standard, but they were soft and inexpressibly charming; and in her large lustrous eyes, of the deepest brown, there lurked a world of deep feeling which the excitement of life would call into action. About her rounded chin and small mouth, whose full and bow-shaped lips had somewhat of a voluptuous expression, there played a thousand charms, which, though they might not disclose themselves or be observed while her features were at rest, yet, as her first timid reserve gave place to the excitement of conversation or passing incident, exercised a strange but irresistible fascination over those about her.

She was very fair for her country. Her mother's bright Georgian complexion was but little deepened in her daughter's richer and browner cast of colour; the skin appeared to possess that transparent softness which gave a bewitching charm to the delicate yet decided features; and her cheeks and neck flushed, under any excitement, with a warmth which told of her southern and more excitable temperament. Whenever she spoke, the upper lip was raised higher than usual, disclosing a rosy mouth, with teeth which glistened like pearls, even and small; and from the absence of any ornament in the nostril, it was evident that, as yet, no marriage rite had been performed. Her age might be fourteen, or even less; but her figure, from its rounded proportions and grace, would have induced a presumption that she was older.

Yet it would have been only a passing thought. One look at that innocent, almost childish face—where, though full of bright intelligence, the world had as yet fixed no stamp of care to check the natural joyousness of her spirit—would have dispelled it instantly; and if the habitual brightness was sometimes dimmed, it was but as the breath upon a mirror—the passing shadow of some gentle disappointment, which enhanced the beauty as it passed away.

There was no mark of rank or wealth about her, except in the solid gold anklets of heavy chainwork she wore, which fitted closely over her high bare instep: a ring of gold hanging loosely about her neck, and a rosary of large pearls usually worn there, but which were now passing rapidly, and apparently mechanically, through her fingers, as if the thoughts that urged them were somewhat agitated. There was, too, a slight knitting of the brow while she idly, and perhaps somewhat impatiently, dabbled with one naked foot in the water which was welling over the rim of the fountain, sending circles of small wavelets over its otherwise unruffled surface, as she looked eagerly to the entrance-door of the garden as if in expectation of some one. As she stood thus upon a step, her foot resting upon the raised rim of the fountain—the vivid scarlet of her satin petticoat, and the white of the fine muslin scarf which, wound about her person, and passed over her head—were reflected in its trembling waters; and, with the mosque and dark trees behind her, and the figure of the old nurse sitting on the step at her feet, a picture was formed such as no man could have looked on without emotion, and admiration of a being so eminently lovely.

"You are my witness, Goolab," she said at length, looking down on the nurse, "that he said he would come to evening prayer, and that I have waited thus long. The time is passing fast, and you know this is the second night he has disappointed me. O, that he may not be careless to God's service! He used not to be so. But I am not angry with him, nurse," she continued, looking down to the attendant; and as she spoke, every trace of displeasure, if it had ever existed, disappeared at once before her habitual good humour and sweet smile; "he never disappointed me, that he had not some very good reason for staying away—and yet——"

"Nay, my soul," returned the woman, "the AzÂn is but just said, and there is yet ample time for prayer; the carpets have not been half spread in the Jumma Mosque yet. Why should you be impatient? But listen, was I not right? My young lord comes, so think him faithless no longer."

As she spoke the door of the garden court opened, and with a cry of joy Zyna sprang to meet her brother, as with rapid steps he traversed the garden, and ascended the low terrace before the mosque.

Still of tender age, Fazil Khan was already a remarkable figure. The down of youth had not yet hardened upon his lip and chin; but his tall athletic frame, and erect and confident carriage, proved him to have been engaged in the actions, if not the strife, of the world. His animated features strongly resembled his sister's, but with a sterner and bolder cast of expression, while his colour was much darker. A large grey eye, with remarkably long lashes, which he had from his mother, increased their grave, thoughtful, yet tender, and perhaps almost mournful, expression; the same sweet smile as Zyna's played about his mouth as he returned her joyous welcome, while his glistening eye and excited manner proved that something unusual had occurred, not only to delay him, but to cause an emotion he could not well repress.

"Ah, thou art a sad truant, Fazil," said Zyna, as, after their first greeting, he laid aside his sword and shield, loosened his waist-band, and prepared to perform his ablutions; "armed, too, more heavily than usual, while thy face tells me thou hast met with some recent adventure. Thou hast not been in danger.... Fazil, my brother!"

"Danger!" echoed the youth; "if to walk the streets of Beejapoor amidst contending factions, where one can hardly tell a friend from an enemy, be danger, why then, dear sister, I have had my share even now. But, trust me, there is no real danger to me. Come then to prayer, for the AzÂn is said, and the light already fails us."

So saying, they ascended the mosque steps together. Their carpets were already spread, and they at once engaged in the service of the evening, well known to the youth, but in the performance of which, his sister was as yet only his gentle and docile pupil.

It would seem that their appearance, as they descended the steps of the mosque together after the prayer was finished, and came out again upon the terrace by the fountain, had more than ordinarily attracted the nurse's attention, for she advanced, and passing her hands rapidly over them from head to foot, pressed her knuckles against her temples; and as they cracked loudly, ejaculated a fervent wish for a thousand years' life and prosperity to each. Such acts are common to the privileged native servants of India, and old Goolab had been their faithful attendant since they were born, and had carefully watched their growth. Both loved her warmly, and there was nothing either would have grudged, to soothe the declining years of their old favourite.

"Enough, enough, Goolab," cried Fazil, as, after several repetitions of the ceremony we have just mentioned, she stroked his chin with her fingers, and kissed their tips; "what evil do you think has come to me that you take it on yourself?"

"Alas, I know not!" said the nurse, sighing; and as she spoke her eyes filled with tears; "but my lord said there had been danger, and I would not have it so. And what evil glances may not have been cast on my beautiful child all through the streets to-day?"

The youth made a slight gesture of impatience, but it was lost on the fond old woman. Checking the feeling which had prompted it, he cried cheerfully, "No, no, Goolab, believe me, I meant no more than ordinary danger; are we not always in it? And who can tell the hour of his death?" he added after a pause, and looking reverently upwards; "or whether it is to come by a bullet or a sword-cut, long wasting fever or sudden sickness; nay, here as we stand! When the message comes we cannot stay."

"Hush, say not so, brother," said Zyna, gently laying her hand upon his mouth; "talk not so of death."

"Nay, my rose, he says but the truth," added Goolab; "and who knew it better, than the pure saint your mother, who sleeps yonder? Well, it was God's will, and who shall gainsay it? Meah is right, my pet, but death should not be sent to the like of you; only to the old servant who is ripe for the harvest——"

"We linger," said Fazil to his sister, interrupting her; "and the darkness is fast spreading. I have much to do ere midnight, and I must go to prepare for it. I will meet thee at the evening meal before I start——Yet once more to take leave of thee, O mother!" he said to himself; "there may be danger to-night, and if it should be——Come, Zyna," he resumed, "a few flowers for the tomb, and I must go. Get a light, Goolab—the lamp may as well be lighted now."

"I had placed them before you came, Fazil; but come; again may she look down on her children together," said his sister.

So saying, she gathered a few jessamine and moulserry flowers and, with her brother following, passed to the end of the garden court, where, among some others, stood a high tomb of polished black stone, with a pillar at the back in which was a niche for lamps that were lighted every evening.

Reverently and tenderly were the fresh flowers laid at the head and feet of the tomb by both. One could see no morbid motive in the act, and there were no tears or vain regret. Their creed, imbued as it is with fatalism, had taught them submission, and the offering up of flowers every evening after the AzÂn, as the lamps were lighted, had become a simple duty, never committed to others. If those two loving and simple hearts believed that their mother's spirit was thus rejoiced, it will account to us for that constant remembrance of the dead which is so affecting, and generally so sincere, among the Mahomedan families of India.

"Come," said Fazil, "we must not delay; though indeed, O sweet mother! I could stay long with thee to-night," he added, touching the foot of the grave gently, and raising his hand to his head. "I kiss thy feet, O mother! may thy blessing rest upon me. Be not far from us, O beloved! Come, Goolab, give me the lamp, and I will place it myself to-night."

"What ails the boy?" said the nurse to herself, as Fazil advanced with the lamp, lighted the others, and placed it in the niche with the customary prayer. "What ails him to-night? Truly there is danger, and he has done all those things himself that he may meet her——If it be the will of Alla, who can gainsay it? but not so, O Protector!" she muttered; "not so. I vow Fatehas at the mosque next Friday if he is spared," she said inwardly, weeping.

Fazil's errand was done, and as he turned he saw the old nurse wiping her eyes. "Ah, weeping, Goolab?" he said. "No, no, that is of no use now."

"No, Meah, truly of no use," she replied; "but memory is often too much for me when I think upon her. Yet I will not weep—of what use would it be?"

"None, old nurse, none; come, get me my dinner, for I have much to do ere midnight."

"Will our father join us?" asked Zyna.

"I think not; I left him engaged with affairs of importance with the King's secretary in the Durbar, and he did not speak of return. I will wait a little for him, but should I not see him, thou must tell him, Zyna, that I am gone on the King's business. But hurry the dinner; I go only to give a few orders, and I will be with thee presently."

So saying he left them, and quitted the garden by another door which led to the outer court, where the guard-houses allotted to the retainers of his father's house were situated. Goolab followed to bar the door after him, which was kept closed on the inside, and, returning to Zyna, said, "Did he tell thee what he was going to do, my life?"

"No," said Zyna sadly; "he would not tell me, nurse, and I dared not ask him. He said he would explain all by-and-by, and he will. I know he will," she added, clapping her hands; "he always trusts me."

"I only hope he is in none of these plots that they say are going on," returned the nurse.

"What plots, Goolab?" asked Zyna with apprehension.

"O, I know not," replied the old woman, with a puzzled air, and passing her hand across her eyes; "only people in the bazar say so; and the Bangle woman, after she had put on your new set the other day, said something about the Mahrattas and Sivaji BhÓslay."

"O, the Kafirs!" cried Zyna, laughing; "I have no fear for them, if that is all. I was afraid of worse. But come, or we shall keep him waiting."