“Musaood and his sister are frequently closeted, and I overheard the former say to the latter, but a few days ago, ‘Our revenge has been long baffled, but the consummation draws near.’”
“Why should you apply this to me, when I have secured the affection of the one and the fidelity of the other?”
“Professedly you have, but kings are not always the best skilled in reading human hearts; they too frequently mistake the mask for the countenance.”
The king smiled. “Mahmood,” said he, “how long have you been a decipherer of the unwritten records of human character? Do you not think that you may chance to be mistaken as well as other men?”
“Beyond question: but no one can deny the policy of being upon one’s guard, even in a state of the greatest apparent security. The profoundest calms are frequently the precursors of violent tempests; and what is seen in the natural may likewise occur in the moral world.”
“But would you have me live in a state of perpetual suspicion, with that void in my heart arising from the absence of confidence, which is one of the most grievous penalties of our existence?”
“No; but I would not have you too rashly trust, and, indeed, never until you have well weighed the characters whom you admit to your friendship.”
“And have I not done so? Have you not won my confidence? and have I ever found reason to regret having bestowed it upon you?”
Mahmood was rather staggered; he felt the truth of the observation; but still determined not to allow the king to remain blind to his insecurity, without striving to put him upon his guard, he said, “Men must be judged by their actions.”
“Precisely so; and Musaood has never given me cause to suspect his fidelity.”