Zyna sat beside her father, trimming the lamp as it needed, wondering much at Fazil's strange absence, and occasionally taking up one of the papers with which her father had been occupied, and reading it vacantly. Zyna could read, which was unusual in girls of her age and class: and, originally of a studious character, she had learned enough Persian with her brother from their old teacher, a superannuated secretary, to be of use both to her father and brother; more especially to her father in his confidential correspondence. Apparently she found nothing to interest her very much, for she laid down letter after letter after reading the superscription, and looked out through the lattice impatiently, as it were, for the coming dawn. The bright morning star now appeared above the tops of the trees, and a glow overspread the whole east—the false dawn; which, while it as yet gave no definite form to the surrounding objects, yet relieved the extreme darkness of the night. As Zyna sat, she fancied she heard a sound of voices at the gate, but it died away. It could not be her brother; he would have been admitted at once. Again, as she listened, and the silence seemed painful, the murmur was renewed, and she started up.

"It is he—Fazil is come!" she cried eagerly to her father, awaking him. "O, father, go to meet him; would I could go myself!"

Afzool Khan listened from the window, and Zyna could see that the expression of his face increased in gladness, and the revulsion in her own heart caused agitation which she could not restrain.

"He is not come," said her father; "it may be some messenger. God grant there may be no evil tidings! Be calm, my child; I will go below and ascertain, and will return or send word about him!"

Hurrying down to the gate, he found the sentinel in altercation with the lad we have before mentioned. It was evident that the boy had been there some time, and the sentinel, being informed that his young lord was safe, had no idea of wakening any one before the usual hour of morning prayer. As Afzool Khan approached the gate alone, he heard the lad's earnest prayer for aid answered by a dogged refusal.

"Begone!" said the man through the wicket; "thy tale may be true enough, and the Sahib Zadah[8] may be where he is; but, look you, the great Khan Sahib is fast asleep, and cannot be awakened. Everybody is asleep; there is no woman here to send to him in the zenana. Begone therefore, or lay down at the gate. When morning prayer is over, thou shalt have speech of the Khan. Till it is broad daylight, I draw no bolt. If thou wilt not go, at least sit quiet, for there are gentleman in the guard-room here who might treat thee roughly if disturbed in their sleep."

The boy was turning away sadly, when the voice of Afzool Khan was heard calling from the inner court, as he unfastened the door leading to the larger one.

"Whose is that voice?—who speaks without?—why is he not admitted?" he asked.

"My lord," replied the man on duty, "the Sahib Zadah is not here, but there is a boy who says he knows of him."

"Was it well, Yousuf, to turn him away?" asked Afzool Khan. "Suppose my son had had need of us."

"Nay; but my lord slept, and the Sahib Zadah was safe. Bulwunt Rao only is wounded—and there were no women to send—and I did but tell him to wait," stammered the man.

"No matter—where is the boy? Open the wicket," said Afzool Khan impatiently.

"He does not consider who may be behind it," said the soldier, as he unfastened the ponderous iron bars and unlocked the padlock of the wickets, "and that this may be but a device to attack the gate. But he will always be headstrong."

"I am here, KhÓdawund," said the lad, from without, and squeezing himself through the opening between the wicket-door and the chain which fastened it. "Behold I am now before you, valiant sir," he said to the sentinel, "whom you took to be a thief; but I would have speech of the noble Afzool Khan himself, if it be possible to have him aroused."

"I am he," returned the old Khan, stepping forward. "Speak on, if what there is to be told may be said before these men;" for several had now arisen, saluted their master, and were standing by him.

The boy touched the old Khan's feet reverently. "Fear not, noble sir," he said hastily, "for the Sahib Zadah is safe. He met with no hurt, though he was in danger."

"Ul-humd-ul-illa!—Praise be to God," broke from the old man fervently, and was heartily re-echoed by all around; for men were arriving every moment from the different portions of the court, and crowding round to hear the news. "Ul-humd-ul-illa! O holy Geesoo Duraz!"[9] he continued, looking up, "I vow fatehas to thy tomb, and a new covering shall it have of the costliest cloth-of-gold. But go on, boy, and fear not. Is there aught for my private ear?"

"Nothing, my lord—nothing. There was a fray, and Meah Sahib's attendant or friend was badly wounded. I want a palankeen for him; that is all."

"And my son—why did he not come with thee? And who art thou?" asked the Khan.

"They call me Ashruf, and I am the son of Peer Mahomed Duffadar, and Meah Sahib could not come, because," added the lad, dropping his head, "he was my father's prisoner—and——"

"By the Prophet, but this is too much!" exclaimed the fiery old Khan. "Who art thou, knave, that dares to say the son of Afzool Khan is a prisoner to any one?"

"May I be your sacrifice, O Khan," returned the boy, nothing daunted, though the Khan's angry speech was re-echoed by all gathered around him. "May I be your sacrifice, there is no harm meant to your noble son, whom we all know and honour. He it was who in my hearing declared that, in order to save my father, he would attend the KÓtwal's court; for it was but yesterday that the KÓtwal swore he would have the right hand of the first brawler taken, cut off, and hung up in the chowke,[10] and that he would degrade the first officer who failed to apprehend those concerned in any riot. Be not angry, therefore, noble sir, for my father explained all this, and your son goes of his own freewill. My father could not help it, you know, my lord," added the boy, apologetically, "for a man had been wounded, and there was blood on your son's sword."

"Ay! JehÁndar Beg is likely to be a man of his word, too," said the Khan to those about him, "and force will do no good. But it were as well that my son should be attended, I think. What say you, gentlemen? So be ready some twenty of you, and call up the spearmen; the palankeen and bearers, too, for Bulwunt Rao. We could ill spare him, poor fellow, from among us."

"Nothing could have happened if Meah had taken some of us with him," cried several of the men at once. "We all wanted to go," added Raheem Khan, "but he bade us mind our own business, and took Bulwunt Rao with him; and see what has come of ganja smoking."

"And Meah might have been wounded or killed," added several.

"My friends, there was need to do it," answered Afzool Khan; "a secret service for the King cannot have too few witnesses. As to his life, or mine, or that of any of you, do we not eat the salt of the King, and should our lives be grudged? Peace, then, and hasten to get ready: the morn is fast breaking, and by daylight we should be in the saddle. Keep the boy; he must accompany us." So saying, he turned back into the private court in order to seek his daughter, who had followed him. Goolab had been beforehand with her, and had communicated the news in her own way, with many marvellous additions, while the Khan was giving his orders to the men. Now, therefore, on hearing her father's brief confirmation of Fazil's safety, all past anxiety was at once forgotten, and, with glistening eyes and a thankful heart, she clung to him as they entered the small court of the zenana apartments together.

By this time, too, Zyna's second mother, who as yet has been barely mentioned, had been aroused from her sleep by the prevailing bustle; and as she habitually indulged in long rests, and disliked early hours most particularly, she met the Khan and Zyna in a mood of very querulous character, which arose partly from having been robbed of a large portion of sleep, and partly from having heard Goolab's exaggerated report of Fazil's danger. Now, the good lady had not even known of his going out, nor, as her lord had requested not to be disturbed, of the manner in which the weary night had passed.

"Blessed be the holy saints that he is safe!" was the exclamation of Zyna, as she threw herself upon the lady's neck; "there will be no delay now, and my father will bring him to us. O mother, are you not thankful?"

"It was well done of thee, Khan," cried the lady ironically, disengaging herself from Zyna, and not heeding her words, "to send that poor boy out in such a night as the last has been. Such thunder and lightning! Naked, too, I hear—to run the chance of cold and wounds. Ugh! and thou sayest thou hast a father's love for him? Toba! toba! I swear to thee, had he been my son, he should never stir out without my permission. I would take care of that. He should not go hence, Khan Sahib, until I knew that the planets were propitious—a thing—Alla defend us!—that some people care as little about as—as ... and then to think what a tempting of destiny it was to send the boy from home without asking or caring for the positions of the stars, or finding out whether there was not an adverse planet in a threatening house. As it is, we hear that Fazil is wounded—that is, he might have been; and that Bulwunt Rao has had his head cut off—that is, nearly, for he has a horrible cut in his neck, and his head is hanging all on one side; and," she continued, wiping her eyes with the end of her scarf, and in a whimpering tone, "all this comes of not asking me. What am I in the house but less than a dog? O Khan——"

"Peace, Lurlee!" returned Afzool Khan tartly. "What cross words are these so early in the morning? Enough for thee that the boy is safe, and that we have subject for thankfulness in his escape from danger, and not of sorrow. Peace! is it thus Alla should see thee after His mercy? Fazil will be here presently, and will tell thee perhaps as much as I know."

"Ay, perhaps!" retorted Lurlee. "I, who am less than a cat in the house, and as gentle as a sheep, am thus treated! O Khan! shame upon thee that I know everything only when it is stale, and comes to me through the bazar! Are not all your goings and comings hidden from me? and now I hear you and Zyna sat up all night together; and I was told you were not to be interrupted, and had to eat my dinner by myself, and to get to sleep as best I might. O Khan! am I less than nobody? I who am of the family of——"

"Thou wouldst only have been anxious and fretful, Lurlee," returned the Khan soothingly. "The planets would have troubled thee. We meant only well in not telling thee. It was an urgent matter, and we could not wait for the astrologer to read the tables for us, or tell us what star was in the ascendant. Go, see after some breakfast, or whatever can be got for Fazil; we may be detained, and I'll warrant he is hungry enough already. We cannot wait for lucky hours sometimes, but must take what Alla sends us."

"I will not go, Khan. I will not be put off with empty words," she cried, angrily; "and if you do not choose to read the stars, what does it signify? are not the consequences of your error on your own head? When was it that the stars were aught in your eyes? Have I not read you many a warning, which, had it been heeded, would have saved much trouble—much! When Fazil went forth to battle, did I not warn you not to let him depart? and did he not come home wounded and senseless? And when I told you one day, when one of the horses died, that something bad must befall us because of the evil aspect of the stars, I was only laughed at. Is this true or false? And yesterday, if I had but been asked beforehand, could I not have told all that was going to happen? Behold!" and the lady drew from her bodice a table regularly constructed to aid her astrological predictions and researches—"behold! were not Saturn and the Moon in conjunction? Is not that bad enough? and cannot you see that is the reason why Bulwunt Rao, poor fellow, has had his head cut off?"

"Peace, Lurlee!" again cried the Khan, to whom his wife's astrological wisdom had long proved a serious annoyance. "If all the planets in the sky had come together for good or evil, Fazil must have gone last night, for it was an errand of life or death. Now all is safely over, go and prepare some sheernee for distribution, and be thankful for what is, rather than anxious about the stars——"

"Toba, toba!" exclaimed the lady, interrupting him; "for shame, for shame! O Khan, to blaspheme the stars! May your sin be forgiven!"

"Nay, mother, but he did not blaspheme," urged the gentle voice of Zyna. "He did but mean that Fazil was safe everywhere; for thou knowest, dear mother, that he is in the hands of Alla, and that the blessed Alla is above all."

"He is not above the stars," retorted the lady angrily, and over-anxious to establish the truth of her favourite superstition—"that is, He—I mean—He is above them; but then——"

"Ah, Lurlee; better leave them alone," cried the Khan, laughing. "Art thou not sinking deep into the mire of thine own conceit, lady? Well, thou art welcome to them if they will teach thee not to be wilful, and not to do thine own desire, which is ever ill controlled and variable; and as to their being higher than Him who made them—why, I have no more to say."

"I said no such thing," retorted the lady doggedly; "but it is ever thus. Take care, Khan, of wilful disregard of warnings."

"Another time, perhaps, wife. Now we cannot delay, for the KÓtwal has got hold of Fazil, and that is worse than an adverse conjunction of planets. But fear not," he added, seeing that the countenance of Zyna betrayed alarm; "a word from me, and he will be released."

"If he is not, I will go to my cousin the Wuzeer's wife, and beg for him," replied Lurlee.

"Ay, in spite of the stars? Well, well, beebee, I hope it will not be needed," said the Khan cheerily. "We are not yet come down to asking favours of our cousins' wives. No, Lurlee; keep thine interest for another time, and see to it that thy cousin doth not require thine aid ere thou hast to ask hers."

"Impossible, Khan!" cried the lady sharply. "Thou art pleased this morning to underrate my poor self and my relations. It is well, O Afzool Khan!" (she meant to be very impressive when she called him by name)—"it is well—I say it is very well, that you speak thus. See to it that thou, too, want no aid from them."

"I do not need them, Lurlee," replied the Khan. "As to their aid to me—nay, be not angry—I have not much hope of it; and for the rest, if I am right in what I think, there is evil impending over the Wuzeer's house, which all the stars will not tell thee of, nor him either. May the saints avert it! If it be true, thou shalt know of it ere many hours be past, and we will try to aid him; but at present let there be peace between us. By-and-by thou wilt say to Fazil, It was well done, though our news may not please thee. Go, girl, bring me my sword," he continued to Zyna. "Bring a shawl too, for the morning air is chilly."

Zyna was glad to escape, for, in truth, bickerings such as we have noted were too frequent in the house to be very tolerable, and sometimes one side, sometimes the other, was in fault; most frequently perhaps, the lady, who, having had no children of her own to care for, and having in her youth been instructed in Persian, had turned to divinity and astrology with great zeal. In the latter she had indeed great faith, and professed herself able, as no doubt she was willing, to direct all affairs of the house, as also of the state, by planetary influences. Thus, no event could happen without its being, to her perception, plainly written in the book of destiny, which the light of the planets rendered easy reading; and if a dish happened to break, or a cow or bullock died, or a horse had to be purchased or exchanged, or any household rejoicing made, or trouble endured, all were found to have connection with the planets, or to be the consequences of the lucky or unlucky days and hours of which her life was composed.

Lurlee KhÁnum being a scholar, was also an object of envy to many of her female friends, and was consulted by them upon various turns of their fortunes; and in regard to lucky colours for dress, lucky moments for putting on new clothes, settling matches and marriage days, the weaning of children, putting them into new beds, cutting their hair or nails, and the like domestic matters, she was an unquestionable authority. She, according to the rules laid down in her book, had written several charms, and given them to her friends, which, together with the virtues of certain herbs and medicines, had been the cause of relief to babies when cutting their teeth, and when they cried at night, or had bad dreams, or infantine ailments; and had been efficacious also in averting evil spirits, evil eyes, and the envious wishes of others.

For these accomplishments—especially her skill in astrology, which was believed to be very wonderful, indeed almost a special revelation—Lurlee KhÁnum was held in vast respect by all classes in her quarter of the city; and her opinions and interpretations of the stars were decidedly preferred to those of Meer Anwur Ali, the old Moolla of the public mosque nigh at hand; and a considerable feud existed between them in consequence. For the Moolla considered her as an interloper, and as one by no means instructed or qualified to have converse with what she professed, whether astrology or medicine; and had been known to say, irreverently no doubt, that more people died of Lurlee KhÁnum's medicines than the angel of death knew what to do with. In short, Lurlee KhÁnum, the second wife of Afzool Khan, was a much more popular person than the first had been; who, being a foreigner, and absorbed in her husband and children, cared little about her neighbours; whereas her successor was in most respects the exact reverse.

Lurlee Beebee had once been handsome. She was of somewhat dark complexion, but had very large lustrous eyes, with a prominent nose, and had not escaped marks by smallpox, though they were not disfiguring. When the Khan married her, her figure was perfect; but she had lately, much to her mortification, increased in size; and though she took many infallible receipts to prevent fat, it would accumulate. For many years she had had hope of children, and had made vows to all the shrines in Beejapoor, had sent gifts to those at Allund, Gulburgah, and GÔgi, and had vowed to make vast distributions of money, and to do other charitable acts, if her prayers were granted. Now she began to fear she had no chance, which had vexed her not a little, and had combined, with other troubles, to give a sour, grim expression to her countenance, which rarely left it.

There were times, however, when she was bright and pleasant; for, really kind at heart, few had greater powers of pleasing than Lurlee KhÁnum; but as her husband became more and more occupied with public affairs, estrangement had begun, and was progressing. There was one fear which had beset Lurlee for many years—that her lord, seeing she had no children, would marry again; and the idea of a sister-wife was very intolerable: this, however, had passed away. The Khan was advancing in years, his children were growing up, and she had no fear of another usurping what affection remained, or interfering with her household management.

To the Khan's children Lurlee was fondly attached; indeed, they were now the principal links between her lord and herself. Their mother had died when they were of tender age; and, after Lurlee's hopes of children ceased, she took more kindly to them than before, and had done her duty by them. Nor did their father interfere with that deference to her judgment in matters concerning them, of which she had better knowledge; but her increasing faith in her own infallibility had begun to distress both, as they could not help estimating at its proper value the superstition upon which the majority of her acts and opinions were founded once for all.

Such was Lurlee KhÁnum, the only lady in the harem of Afzool Khan. Other nobles of his rank would have married as often as the law allowed, without reproach; but the old Khan's affections had seemingly died with Zyna's mother; and the excitement of war, of political events, and provincial government, together with the management of his fine estate of Afzoolpoor, had apparently filled his mind to the exclusion of other subjects.

In a few moments Zyna had returned, bearing the weapon, which her father took from her; and having entered the garden with her, they performed their ablutions in the mosque before mentioned, and went through the usual forms of the early prayer. The Khan then returned to the zenana, where Lurlee KhÁnum met him.

"I have put up some food in the palankeen," she said; "see that Fazil eats it. I would all this were safely over," she added, after a pause. "Thou art not angry with me, Khan—with your Lurlee? do not go forth angry with me, my lord."

"No, no! not angry, dear one," returned the Khan, much moved and softened. "I am not angry, but impatient; forgive me, Lurlee. Alla keep you till I return: and you too, my child! Fear not; I will bring him safely to both of you."

The Khan's horse awaited him in the outer court, and with it a strong troop of his best horsemen, with a company of spearmen, whose combined force seemed enough to have rescued Fazil, had there been need. Afzool Khan was greeted heartily by all, and as he cast his eye over the group of steady and oft-tried retainers, he felt that confidence which results from habitual companionship with others, and that no danger could reach Fazil which they could not share or overcome. The greeting was as heartily returned as given; and the gates being thrown open after a few questions to his son's messenger, and preceded by him and the band of spearmen who ran before his horse, Afzool Khan and his retainers pushed forward at a rapid pace.

It was now broad daylight, and the freshness of the morning, and its clear bright atmosphere, rendered every object more beautiful than it had been before the rain. Every stately mosque and minaret, palace and mausoleum, with their bright gilded spires, caught the fast-increasing light, and stood out boldly against the clear eastern sky; while the rich foliage of the trees, unmoved by any wind as yet, hung in heavy masses, and seemed refreshed by the moisture they still retained. As they passed the various gardens, the rich fragrance of tuberose, lime, and orange flowers loaded the air almost to excess; while the very ground gave forth that refreshing earthy scent which, in India, after rain, mingles so peculiarly and yet so gratefully with every other perfume. Few persons were yet abroad; and with the exception of an occasional devout Mahomedan proceeding to early morning prayer at the mosque—a young rake, with a small band of sword-and-bucklermen, returning from the night's questionable companionship—a few humble carriers of fruit and vegetables coming from villages without the walls to the morning market, with here and there small companies of travellers starting on their daily journey,—all was silent and deserted; and the heavy tramp of the horsemen, as they proceeded at a rapid pace, sounded strange and suspicious at that unusual hour.

[8] The respectful title of a son—literally, "lord's son."