Siyah Yamin said the same thing to the two conspirators Mirza Ibrahîm and Khodadâd, whom she found waiting for her return anxiously.
"Yea! Yea! Yea!" she answered yawning. "Lord! how we apples swim! She will put it as talisman in the Prince's turban. The rest is not for me. Lo! I have done my work."
"And more!" spoke up Khodadâd after a vain look at his companion to urge him to the task. "Why hast thou taken the woman Âtma into thy confidence? It may spoil all. Why hast thou done it, I say? For that we will have answer now, will we not Ibrahîm? Thou hadst no right----"
Siyah Yamin yawned again.
"Because, fool! without her I could not work!" Then she smiled suddenly. "Lo! there is something betwixt me and old Âto which mankind wist not of, and which I--understand not. But see you, gentlemen, if I need a scapegoat she is ready to hand. And if that please you not, go! But quarrel not over such trifles in the making of plans, my friends. Time runs short and as the proverb says,
One can hear snakes bickering,
By the long tongues flickering.
So this advice I give--silence."
As usual she had the last word.
Poor Auntie Rosebody was at the same moment giving herself the same advice. Sleep had of course, been effectually banished from her eyes, and she was still sitting with the little packet she had received from the women close clasped in her hand. She had held it for so many minutes--nay, surely hours!--that it seemed to have become part of herself, and her thoughts had long since left even the question as to whether she ought not at once to summon the King and give it back to its rightful owner. The only point with her now was how she could manage her part without help. She had made up her mind not speak to Hamida. One never quite knew what she might think or say. But was there no one else? Aunt Rosebody felt as if she must burst without speech; but it must be speech with silence. And except at night time, it was almost impossible for any one to have a private interview with any one else in the woman's house. It was full to the brim with idle hussies, eunuchs, actual spies! Naturally if she wanted audience of Hamida Begum, she could claim a private one; or even of Râkiya--here the blood flew to Auntie Rosebody's face. No! it should never be old Râkiya, with her hemistitches, her girding tongue, her ill-bred remarks about dead saints! Gulbadan Begum was a good hater and the mere thought of confiding in her enemy quite flustered her. Yet she could not wait for discreet nightfall. What was to be done must be done at once, that very morning; since the festivities that were to commence the six weeks revelling in honour of Salîm's coming marriage were to begin that afternoon. And then, suddenly, a thought struck her. Umm Kulsum! Little Umm Kulsum who was such a tower of good sense and sympathy! She would tell her. Yes! she would tell her, not in the dhooli going to the bathing steps. There they might be overheard by the duennas who walked beside it. That was the worst of being a woman--there were spies everywhere, even upon the bathing steps. But out on the water, right away in the tank, under the azure-silk sky of heaven--there she could ensure solitude!
Aunt Rosebody heaved a sigh of relief. Ah! it was very well of Râkiya Khânum to jibe at indecent youth, but it was something to be able to swim and so get away from old cats!