"That is Luck beyond the Luck of Kings, madam," he said, "and reason beyond question. This Speck of Dust in the Court of Intellect gives thanks for the Truth, and withdraws his earthly clay"--he paused, for as he turned to go he saw the rebeck player standing on the threshold. "Back slave!" he cried at once impetuously--"this roof is sacred to a Queen."
But the musician's pale face lit up suddenly. "A Queen suffers no ill from the eyes of a King," he replied, fixing his gaze on Mihr-un-nissa. So for an instant they stood, measuring one another; then the man turned quickly to Birbal, "Come, my lord," he said, "the Sufi from Isphahân desires to see the Most Excellent!--when he can withdraw his earthly clay from the presence of the Queen of Queens."
Mihr-un-nissa stood looking after them as they disappeared, nodding her head with a superior air. Then, in sudden change, she clapped her hands together joyfully like a child. "That is good," she cried. "It is lovely to be called that. Lo! I would do most things for that--except marry the Prince! Yea! most things so that it was the Luck of a real King!" Something in her own words made her pause. "That must be safeguarded," she murmured, as if to herself. Then she wheeled round and caught the fat duenna by both hands and tried to force her to her knees.
"Kneel, Fâtima, or I will hurt thee! Kneel, dost hear? What! thou disobeyest me!" A stamp of her foot emphasised her order, and brought the fat duenna down in a hurry.
"Say! didst hear aught?" asked the girl superbly. "In the room, I mean, not here."
"Highness, not a word!" protested Fâtima; "but what I heard here--what I saw here--have made me deaf and blind for ever."
"So much the better, Futtu, so much the better," nodded Mihr-un-nissa wisely. "Still 'tis always best to be on the safe side. So put thy mouth in the dust and say after me:
"May crows pick out mine eyes.
"Say! dost hear?
"May crows pick out mine eyes."