"Has Zóra returned?" asked her grandfather. "Mamoolla, is the child there?"
"I am here, Abba," she replied, coming to the door of the house. "What need you?"
"Runga tells me that some persons have come from Juldroog, thou hadst better keep thyself close;" but, as he spoke, the women entered by the outside door; and as she slunk back into a dim corner, she saw that the arrivals were Máma Luteefa and Shireen-bee, her servant, who saluted the old man with respect.
"We have a letter from the Nawab," said Máma Luteefa, "and he has sent us to deliver it and to plead for him."
"As-tagh-fur-oola! God forbid!" cried the Syud, putting his hands to his ears, "that any message should reach me from that bold, bad man. Leave me; I will not hear you."
"He is penitent now," returned the Máma, wiping her eyes. "He will do whatever you please."
"He is worn to a shadow," said Shireen-bee, sniffling and blowing her nose. "He will die of grief, Huzrut, for Zóra-bee. Will she not relent? Osman Beg will have the grandest marriage performed."
"Here," interrupted Máma Luteefa, "if Zóra wishes, in the midst of her friends. He will come without a following, and place himself—he—he—in voluntary captivity to the beauteous Zóra. He will settle on her a dower of fifty thousand rupees, and an elephant could not carry the clothes he has provided. If my lord will read his letter he will see that I tell the truth."
"Let Zóra open and read it," said the old man, gently. "She can choose for herself. I will say nothing, for rank and wealth may have favour in her sight, though they have none in mine. Zóra! Zóra!" and she came forth, veiling her face, and sat down beside him.