"Ay!" she replied sternly, "and there was no more talk than there is now. 'Tis not a question of words. It is fate. Something happens, and then--then the risaldar may be Nawab--as his fathers were."
She had gone too far, and recalled him to himself. "Then let us await the happening," he said curtly.
"Wait!" echoed the old lady, reverting to the main point. "Thou canst not wait. Having gone so far, the negotiations cannot drop. Thou must send the gift, and see what comes of it."
"A gift!" he repeated. "What gift, and wherefore?"
Mumtâza Mahal looked round as if for approval, tucked a packet of pân into her cheek, and chuckled. She was on familiar ground now.
"Leave that to me. I know what girls like. I have them still. Ay! a dress that her grandmother wore--good as new, being for a tall woman--and jewels. 'Tis no harm, at least, see you; since if they like it not, the gift is returned."
He stood doubtful, half pleased, half shocked at the suggestion. She could certainly send the things back, and he had many a time seen English women wearing native jewelry; ay! and decorating their rooms with native dresses. And he could write that they were from her cousin and servant.
That would be easier than telling.