"Leave her where her lover died; being Hindu she may learn to follow him without fear."
For already bitter anger was passing; inflexible justice taking its place.
"His Highness the Lord Treasurer waits without with a dhooli," said the page once more.
"Close the screens, let no one enter. Bid the Lord Treasurer bring the dhooli to the outer tent and remain there himself." The order was given calmly, but he who gave it was in a whirlwind of passionate protest.
And this woman--this common strumpet of the bazaars--had talked to him of Love; had, in reality, set him on the first step which had led him so far from common-sense; which had brought him here to an interview with a chit of a child at dead of night!
A slim white figure parting the curtains which separated this inner pavilion from the one beyond, brought him back to his bearings. It was not the child's fault; she must be courteously dealt with.
"Wilt not unveil, my child?" he said gravely, "there is none to fear----"
"And Mihr-un-Nissa fears none," came the reply, as the cloud of white drapery thrown back, fell on the ground, and the girl stepping forward lightly from the billowy folds, stood to salaam.
There was a moment's pause; then eager, warm, came Akbar's verdict. "By all the Gods of Indra! by Allah and his Prophet! thou art beautiful indeed, my daughter."
A deeper flush tinged the rounded cheeks, but the girl looked frankly into the admiring eyes.