Thus, growing cooler, more dignified as stress ceased, to the Paradise-Gardens where the Begums lived. No time like the present to show his mettle, to let these foolish women know that he did not consider their intrigues worth a man's consideration. He found the chief-conspirator Shâh-Begum huddled up, out of all measure alarmed, confounded, dismayed, ashamed. All the more so when that brilliant young figure paused at the door to make its accustomed and reverential salutation. He looked well, did Babar, with the fire of fight still in his eyes, a certain quizzical affection about his mouth. "I salute thee, O revered step-grandmother," he said cheerfully, good-humouredly.
So crossing, he went down on his knees in filial fashion and embraced the old lady cordially.
Whereupon, of course, she began to whimper. Babar sat back and looked at her kindly.
"Wherefore, revered one? Lo! I am not vexed. What right has a child to be so because his mother's bounty descends upon another? The mother's authority over her children is in all respects absolute, save that this grandson, and not the other is King of Kâbul!" Then he laughed: "Lo!" he added, "I am so sleepy. I have not slept all night. Let me rest my hand on thy bosom, grandmother, as I used to rest it on my mother's."
The whimper changed into a storm of sobs.
And afterwards when the young aspirant and the Doghlat-commoner had been caught and brought up for condign punishment by Kâsim, he forgave them both.
"But the traitor deserves death, sire," stuttered the stern old martinet. "He hath been guilty of mutiny, rebellion. He is criminal, guilty; and the younger one is devil's spawn."
"You mistake, old friend," said the young King quietly; "they are of my family."
Poor old Kâsim had to content himself by assenting loudly in whatever company he found himself that however much the King might try to wear away the rust of shame with the polish of mildness and humanity he was unable to wipe out the dimness of ignominy which had covered the mirror of those miscreants' lives.