She stilled him with a wave of her hand. "I must think," she cried, and rising, walked to the parapet. Only however, to return after a second.
"I consent," she said quietly. "At eleven be it--thou wilt not send this?" She showed the paper she still held.
"Nay," he replied with a bow as he took it from her. "I will keep it ever next my heart as security for happiness--at eleven."
When he had gone she broke into a sudden, wild laugh, and flung the pen she held concealed in her right hand into the pen tray.
"Only a fly's foot on the paper, but it will show truth or untruth!" she muttered.
Then she sate down and waited; there was nothing else to be done. She dare not use the King's signet--if indeed this token of mere personal safety to herself would be of any avail--since that might lead to his discovery of the diamond's theft. And that (this had grown to an immutable creed) must never be!
"Light not so many lights," she said to the servants who came in with long garlands of flowers and coloured lights; but they went on with their work. It was by the Lord Chamberlain's orders they said. And they brought her new jewels, and scattered rose-oil-water about the cushions, and spread a low stool-table with fruit, and goblets, and wine flagons.
She sate and watched them, interested as she would not have been but for the awakening of her womanhood under the King's touch. Now she understood; now for the first time she realised the philosophy of Siyah Yamin.
So Ibrahîm, coming in early--she smiled mysteriously at his haste--found her watching the slave-women who were reaching up to place coloured lights amongst the roses twined round the cupola, and as they worked they sang in a quaint roundel:
Shine earthen lamps, outblaze the stars
So cold, so white, so far.
Shine little lamp, hide Heaven's light
Love comes to Love to-night.