Zeenut Maihl gave a cry of admiration. "Quick! Pir-sahib, quick!" she exclaimed. "Such a gem must not be lost."
"But 'tis yet co be polished," began the King complacently.
"That is the office of the scribe," replied Hussan Askuri, as he drew out his ink-horn. He was by profession an ornamental writer, and gained great influence with the old poetaster by gathering up the royal fragments and hiding their lameness amid magnificent curves and flourishes.
"And now, Pir-sahib," continued the Queen, with a look of loving anxiety at her lord, "for this strange ailment of which I spoke to you----"
The King's face lost its self-importance as if he had been suddenly recalled to unpleasant memory. "'Tis naught of import," he said hastily. "The Queen will have it I start and sweat of nights. But this is but the timorous dread of one in her condition. I am well enough."
"My lord, Pir-sahib, hath indeed renewed his youth through thy pious breathing of thy own life into his mouth--as time will show," murmured the Queen with modest, downcast look. "But last night he muttered in his sleep of enemies----"
Bahâdur Shâh gave a gasp of dismay. "Of enemies! Nay!--did I truly? Thou didst not tell me this."
"I would not distress my lord, till fear was over. Now that the pious priest, who hath the ear of the Almighty----"
Hussan Askuri, who had stepped forward to gaze at the King, began to mutter prayers. "'Tis that cooling draught of Ahsan-Oolah's stands in the way," he gasped, his hands and face working as if he were in deadly conflict with an unseen foe. "No carnal remedy--Ah! God be praised! I see, I see! The eye of faith opens--Hai! venomous beast, I have you!" With these words he rushed to the King's couch, and, scattering its cushions, held up at arm's length a lizard. Held by the tail, it seemed in semi-darkness to writhe and wriggle.
"Ouée! Umma!" yelled the Great Moghul, shrinking to nothing in his seat, and using after his wont the woman's cry--sure sign of his habits.