Prince Baisanghâr laughed aloud. "By the prophet! she speaks truth, coz; ladies have the law of listening all over the world; aye! and of speaking too. So let be, since we are cousins and free-born Chagatâi of the house of Ghengis."
But Babar stickled. "Aye, we are; but thou art not--not on thy mother's side."
"My mother!" echoed Baisanghâr, his voice full of amusement. "Lo! I admit it! On my mother's side I am beyond salvation, being of the wild Horde-of-Black-Sheep! for which may God forgive me since 'tis not my fault I was not born a White-Lamb!" He named the two great divisions of his Turkhoman ancestry with infinite zest, then went on lightly: "But I fail of myself in other ways--many of them. I made an ode concerning it, a while past, that sets Baisanghâr Black-Sheep-Prince forth to a nicety!" and he began airily to hum a tune.
"Sing it to us, cousin," came that sweet voice from the darkness.
There was a moment of silence, as if the hearer were startled, perhaps touched; then came the almost stiff reply:
"My fair cousin is too kind. The ode as verse is nothing worth. And its subject is, beyond belief--bad! Still, since she is Princess-Royal and I am but her slave, the order is obeyed."
So through the night and out into the stars his high tenor voice rose and trilled in minor quavers.
1. Some-times with pi-ous-ness I crawl
To-wards High Heav'n on whit-ed wall