"Lo! Ummu!" whispered Auntie Rosebody, "we did the right thing. He looks the Archangel Gabriel. Let me go to bed in the dark, my day is full!"
And in truth the Prince had never looked better in his life. Perhaps the whole-heartedness of his plunge into Love's sea was the only reason why his hopes ran high; perhaps he knew of the talisman he carried, but carried it with no evil intention; perhaps again those hopes of his had gone further than mere Love, so that he saw himself master of the situation, able to give the Râjpût girl whom he had never seen the go by, able to do in future what he chose, what he desired. But certain it is that every eye followed his youthful dignity with admiration, and more than one looked furtively from the son to the father, appraising both. In that father's mind, however, was no hint of jealousy, only unmixed joy.
As he raised his son from his obeisance and kissed him on both cheeks, it seemed to him as if, at long last, content had come to him. The questionings which had so harassed him of late seemed to have fled. Here was an heir, indeed!
"How well thou lookest Shaikie!" he whispered affectionately in the young man's ear ere taking him by the hand and leading him forward so that they might be seen by all the populace.
A goodly pair indeed! The younger man, somehow--for this evening at any rate--with more personal charm about him; but the elder one even in his plain dress, his unadorned turban, a king every inch of him.
"Heralds! read out the Titles of this my beloved son, Salîm!"
Akbar's voice raised in command penetrated to the farthest corner of the garden and every ear strained to catch the honours that were to be showered on this Heir to Empire. Aunt Rosebody's face, flushed with anxiety grew crimson dark with sheer delight as she listened.
"Captain of Ten Thousand--praise be to Allah!" she commented breathlessly. "What! a Viceroy in the Northeast--now may I go to Paradise!--Master of Distinctions!--what! Sunshade and Fly whisk! Umm Kulsum! I go again to Mecca to give thanks--And the jewels--not sir-a-pa, head to foot!--not sir-a-pa!--Yes!--Now may they kill me--one can take two kicks from a milch cow! Unalienable--did I hear right--Ummu tell me! tell this poor old woman who--who--cannot believe--her ears."
"Unalienable, never to be neglected. Always to be considered by right, election, and consent Crown Prince." So far the Mother of Plumpness repeated in a trembling voice; then the two women fell on each other's necks and wept.
"Bring the well!" murmured Auntie Rosebody. "I'll drown myself."