‘It is a dish for a prince, Meer Sahib,’ said the cook, giving the contents of the pot an affectionate stir. ‘I say it is a dish for the Huzoor, and such an one as I have often cooked for his zenana.’
‘Then thou wast in the kitchen of Nizam Ali?’
‘Even so, Meer Sahib; there is plenty to eat, but little pay; so I left the Huzoor to follow the fortunes of the Khan,—may his prosperity increase!’
‘Ay, he is a noble fellow, Zoolfoo, and a generous one;—see what he hath done for me already.’
‘Thou didst enough for him,’ said the cook drily. ‘Knowest thou that the Khanum is a bride, and that she is only fourteen or fifteen, and as beautiful as the moon at the full?’
‘Is she?’ said Kasim carelessly.
‘Is she!’ retorted the cook; ‘I saw her three months ago, for she was a neighbour of mine. I have known her for years, but that she does not know.’
‘Indeed! that is very extraordinary,’ said Kasim absently.
‘Not at all,’ replied the cook; ‘my sister was servant in their house for some years,—nay, is there still. She told me all about this marriage; it was very splendid.’
‘Indeed!’ Kasim again.