"Not so, by the Prophet!—by your head and eyes; no, Zyna," cried her brother earnestly. "Let such an one come, and thou wilt see what she would be to me."
"Would it were so, brother! and yet I know of no one—not one as yet—whom thou couldst love like me. None of the maidens of this city are worthy of thee; no, not one, Fazil."
"Ah! nothing less than one of the blessed houris of Paradise would content thee for me," returned the young man, laughing; "but one like thyself would quite content me, sister. Perhaps even now thou hast been thinking I have some love-secret to tell thee, for I have not accounted for my delay these two evenings, but love there is none, dearest. No—none at all," as she shook her head and laughed incredulously,—"none. A graver matter, truly, if I am right. Listen, Zyna, I have told thee of Kowas Khan before—my friend, the Wuzeer's son——"
"What of him?" she returned, so abruptly that her tone of alarm startled her brother. "Yes," she continued, correcting herself, "surely—often—dear brother, hast thou not told me of his bravery when the Moghuls besieged the city? but do not mention him, else I will go away."
"Nay, go not, Zyna. I will not tease thee," he replied, "yet why should I not speak of him? Is he not a hero—a very Roostum? Is he not beautiful?—a youth for a maiden to love, or a man to make his friend! But enough of this," for he perceived the confusion his last words had occasioned: "to say the truth, I am anxious for the whole family, and there is much cause to fear; the Wuzeer is not keeping his faith with the King. But for that, indeed——"
"Hush, brother!" said Zyna, again blushing, for she knew that she had been sought in marriage by the Wuzeer for his son; "may God forbid evil to him or any of them; and men have as yet spoken well of him. Why should he be suspected?"
"Alas, who can say?" replied her brother sadly. "Who can tell to what crimes pride and ambition may not urge a man? Truly, sister, it will not be marvellous if the Wuzeer, seeing the danger of the Moghuls on the one hand, of Sivaji Bhóslay on the other, and knowing better than we do the divisions among our own nobles, should forget his faith, and try to strike in for himself. 'Twas thus, so writes the historian of honoured memory, Mahomed Kasim Ferishta, that our own kingly house rose into existence, and the Nizam Shahy and Kootub Shahy dynasties also; what wonder, then, that Khan Mahomed—the rich, the honoured, the powerful—should be tempted to follow examples so successful and so prosperous?"
"What! and forget his King, who has raised him from—from——" she could not add slavery; "forget honours, titles, lands, wealth? O brother!"