‘I know no dread when I have a purpose before me,’ said the lady proudly; ‘art thou thus minded, Hoormut-bee?’
‘Inshalla! I will do as thou dost,’ returned the other; ‘whither thou leadest, I will follow.’
‘Enough!’ cried the crone; ‘can we be alone here when the time comes, of which I will forewarn ye?’
‘We can,’ said Kummoo, ‘without a chance of interruption.’
‘Good—but no, it will be better done yonder, at thy mother’s: there all can be prepared.’
‘It will be less dangerous there,’ said the old lady; ‘thou canst do thy work in the closet which is off the private room. And when, Kureena-bee, shalt thou be ready?’
‘In a month, perhaps: the spell is a heavy one to work, and requires preparation and thought, lest anything should be omitted. Ye must send Fatehas to the shrine, feed Fakeers in your presence, eat cooling victuals, and abstain as much as may be from meat. Thus ye will be prepared; but on me will fall the sore fast and penance: it is hard for an old woman to endure, but ye are in an evil strait, and I were ungrateful for years of protection from your house, Kummoo-bee, and for the salt I have eaten, did I refuse you my aid. And now bid me depart, for I have much to do ere night.’
‘Not till you have eaten,’ cried Kummoo; ‘Mashalla! are we inhospitable?’
‘Not a mouthful, not a taste,’ said the old woman rising. ‘No food must pass my lips, save what is cooked by my own hands till the spell is finished; the vow is upon me, and I must begone.’
‘Alla Hafiz!’ then cried both the ladies, leading her to the door, ‘we trust to thee, mother; do not forget us.’ In a few minutes the sound of the bearers was heard, as they rapidly traversed the street below them.