Babar gave a sigh of relief and turned his face to the wall.
Possibly the strain had been too much for him, coming as it did after long years of steady, hard work. Perhaps he had worn himself out with sheer, restless energy. Doubtless those ten years of drink, possibly even the four of total abstinence, had something to say to this premature break-down; for in years he was but forty-eight. Yet, deny it as they would, it was soon evident to all, that he had lived through the tale of heart beats allotted to him by Fate.
Humâyon, with the speed of youth, recovered and came to his father's bedside; but Babar never rose again. Perhaps he would not have done so if he could, for he had a made a promise. He had given his life to God in exchange for his son's, and there was an end of it.
But he was quite cheerful. Only to two people did he speak openly of coming death. One was Târdi-Beg who stayed with him night and day. To him he spoke lightly, almost jestingly, of his long desire to follow his example and become a darvesh.
"For years--aye! three years--I have desired to make over the throne to Humâyon and retire to the Gold-Scattering-Garden! What gay times we have had there, friend, with the flowers, and the birds, and the children--and our own wits! Now shall I retire to Paradise, and God send it be as innocent, as guileless."
And to Mubârika he talked of his beloved Kâbul and his mother's grave. "Lo! thou shalt lay me there, lady, for the others have children, and thou dost love thy Kâbul also!"
Then he lay and looked at her with kindly questioning eyes, until he said, "It hath come to me at times, that I did thee a wrong in taking thee, a young girl, from thy tribe. Say, is it so? I would have the truth."
Then she spoke softly. "Yea! it is so, Zahir-ud-din Mahomed Babar Emperor of India. Yet was the wrong righted long ago. By sacrifice comes life. And my people have lived in peace."
"As we have," he said half-appealingly.
She laid the hand she held on her forehead. "As we have, my lord."