"By God and the prophets no!" cried Babar catching fire at last. "There is but one more thing between us. Lady, wilt thou take me for husband?"
"Of a surety; therefore came I here." So far the reply was as ever, cool, collected, without shadow of emotion; now the sweet, polished voice broke faintly. "There is but one matter of which I would remind my lord. I am older than he by three years. And I am not quite like other women. Messer Ali-Shîr taught me much. If my lord would rather someone else--"
The rose light on the pavement flickered between them backwards and forwards.
"Lady," said Babar, and involuntarily he drew himself up to his full height, "in my childhood they married me to one for whom I cared little. She left me, saying truly, I did not love her. Awhile back my mother--God rest her soul for she was very dear to me--married me to yet another wife whom, mercifully, God took; since we were as cat and dog. But I have never loved a woman. I do not now; perhaps I never shall. 'Tis well to be prepared."
Was it a faint sigh, or only another breath of wind that set the swinging lamp swaying.
"I am prepared. And God may send the father's love to the mother of his son."
There was silence. The splash of the glistening fountain made itself heard faintly; the soft coo of a dove in the orange trees seemed a lullaby to the whole wide world.
"Lady," said Babar when he spoke at last, "I have sworn to myself that none should know of my marriage till it was accomplished. Till I could place my wife before them and say 'See her whom I have chosen.' I stay but a week or two in Herât. My kingdom calls me back. Is it possible that ere I go the formulas may be said privately, so that when good fortune enables me to send to Herât it may be for my wedded wife that I send?"
There was a pause Then the cool, quiet voice replied, "Wherefore not, my lord? I have said I am ready."
"But when?" Babar spoke anxiously, almost appealingly. He felt himself as wax in a woman's hand--a woman he had never seen.