‘“No, by your soul!” cried Sozun; “she lives, and thinks but of you. She is as beautiful as a houri; the years that have passed now seem but as hours; her skin is as fair, her eye as bright, her form as round and perfect as ever.”
‘“And the wound?” I asked.
‘“Ah! it was a horrible gash,” said Meeran, shuddering, ‘and it was long before it healed; she will show you the place if—if—"
‘“Come,” said I, “come! I burn to see her. I am not married; I never should have married, perhaps. Come! it is my destiny. Ya Alla kureem, how it hath been worked out!”
‘They led the way joyfully: her mother had been advised of my presence in the city by Meeran in the morning, and, closely veiled, she sat in her private apartment, awaiting me. Her husband was absent on some military duty, so I had to arrange all with her.
‘How my heart beat as I entered the house! To be once more under the same roof with her who had loved me so long and so truly—to be there in the hope that ere many hours should elapse she would be mine—mine for ever! Sahib, I had fought and bled on a battle-field, yet I never felt so agitated as I did at that moment.
‘A cry of joy from the old lady welcomed me. “Blessed be Alla!” she said, as she embraced me like a son; “blessed be his name, that thou art here! Oh that my lord were here, to welcome thee, and greet thee as a son!”
‘“And Ameena,” I said, “tell me, by your soul, how is she? Doth she still remember Kasim Ali? I am rich, I am high in rank; I have left the Sultaun’s service, and am now in that of your own Government. What delay need there be? Let me, I beseech you, speak to her, and send for the Moola to read the Nika.”
‘“Fie!” said the old lady, “that would be indecent haste.”
‘“What, after years of absence, mother? nay, say not so, but tell her I am here.”