Then she suddenly put her head on one side and regarded her grand-nephew distastefully. "Lo! Salîm thou growest too fat. Wine and women will kill thee, and 'tis well that Birbal--mind you I say naught for him or against him, though he hath made me laugh often enough."
"He shall laugh on the wrong side ere long," cried Salîm savagely. "Aye! he shall learn not to jest at me."
The lively little face grew keen. "At thee? What said he? Come, sweetheart, let me hear. I will decide if there be wit in it."
"Wit!" echoed the Prince angrily. "No wit, but insult for which he shall pay. Look you, when the Hindu infidel interfered with sermons I bid him silence. 'Am I not King?' said I (as I shall be), 'and the Shadow-of-God?' 'No,' says he with that cursed bow of his, 'thou art drunk, boy, and the substance of a fool.'"
Aunt Rosebody attempted gravity; then her laughter brimmed over, and the whole room giggled in response, including the bead-threading girls.
"Oh! my life," the little lady was beginning when one of the women guards entered hurriedly, crying, "The King! honourable ladies, the King!"
He was amongst them almost before the circle of fond relatives about the young Prince had time to rise, so hiding him from view. For an instant Akbar stood to make his courtly greeting, then, seeing his mother's pale face light up, he flung his turban with its royal heron's plume aside--his shoes he had already left at the door--and so passing quickly to Hamida's side took both her hands and raised them to his head.
"Mother! I thank thee--for all!"
Her fingers even in his strong grip lingered there lovingly as if she felt the child's curls still; then she said with a quiver in her voice:
"It was nothing, son--the good wishes were more weighty than the gold."