But still he was like a dead man, nor lifted his face.
“Surely all things pass. And though I go, in your heart I abide, and nothing can sever us. Take comfort.”
But there was no answer.
“Nothing but Love’s own hand can slay Love. Therefore, remember me, and I shall live.”
And he answered from the darkness of her bosom, “The whole world shall remember. But when shall I be united to thee? O Allah, how long wilt thou leave me to waste in this separation?”
And she: “Beloved, what is time? We sleep and the night is gone. Now put your arms about me, for I sink into rest. What words are needed between us? Love is enough.”
So, making not the Profession of Faith,—and what need, since all her life was worship,—the Lady Arjemand turned into his arms like a child. And the night deepened.
Morning, with its arrows of golden light that struck the river to splendour! Morning, with its pure breath, its sunshine of joy, and the koels fluting in the Palace gardens! Morning, divine and new from the hand of the Maker! And in the innermost chamber of marble a white silence; and the Lady, the Mirror of Goodness, lying in the Compassion of Allah, and a broken man stretched on the ground beside her. For all flesh, from the camel-driver to the Shah-in-Shah, is as one in the Day of the Smiting.
II
For weeks the Emperor lay before the door of death; and had it opened to him, he had been blessed. So the months went by, and very slowly the strength returned to him; but his eyes were withered and the bones stood out in his cheeks. But he resumed his throne, and sat upon it kingly, black-bearded, eagle-eyed, terribly apart in his grief and his royalty; and so seated among his Usbegs, he declared his will.