‘Do not speak, Kasim Ali, my son, my heart’s life. Inshalla! you will live. Inshalla! we will tend thee as a child. Do not stir hand or foot:’ (Kasim had clasped the Khan’s hand, and was endeavouring to raise it to his lips:) ‘no thanks, no thanks—not a word! art thou not dear to us? Ay, by Alla and his apostle! Gently now, my friends, gently; so, raise him up—now the palankeen here, ’tis the Khanum’s own, Kasim—never heed his blood,’ he added, as some of the bearers strove to put their waistbands under him. ‘Aistee, aistee![[44]]—kubardar![[45]]—well done! Art thou easy, Kasim? are the pillows right?—what, too low? thou canst not breathe?—now, are they better?—nay, speak not, I understand thy smile;’ and truly it was one of exquisite pleasure which overspread his face.
[44]. Easy, easy!
[45]. Take care.
‘What, water?’ he continued, as Kasim motioned to his open mouth, ‘Ya, Alla! he can have had none here all day. Quick, bring the soraee and cup! There,’ he said, filling a cup with the sparkling and cool fluid, ‘Bismilla, drink!’
The fevered Kasim clutched it as though it had contained the water of Paradise; cup after cup was given him, and he was refreshed. The flower of life, which had well nigh withered, was revived once more, and hope again sprang up in his breast.
‘Go on with easy steps,’ cried the Khan to the bearers, ‘I will give you a sheep to-morrow if ye carry him well and quickly.’
‘On our head and eyes be it,’ said the chief of the bearers, and they set forward.
The men on the wall fired a few random shots at the party, but they were too distant to aim with effect, and it proceeded rapidly. The journey of some miles was a severe trial to the exhausted Kasim, and they were several times obliged to rest; but they reached the summit of the last declivity after some hours, and the welcome sight of the huge camp below, the white tents gleaming brightly in the moonlight, among which hundreds of watchfires were sparkling, greeted the longing eyes of Kasim. In a few minutes more they had arrived at the Khan’s own tent, and he was lifted from the palankeen into the interior, and laid on a soft bedding which had been prepared within. The place was cleared of those who had crowded round, and although Kasim’s eyes were dizzy, and the tent reeled before him, he was conscious that the gentle voices which were around him, the shrouded forms which knelt by him, and the soft hands which washed the hard and clotted blood from him, were those of Ameena’s women.