“Since when hast thou been a slave, my queen?”
“Since the beginning—till this mercy came to me. How could I be sure of thy love when I knew that I had been bought with silver?”
“Nay, that was the dowry. I paid it to thy mother.”
“And she has buried it, and sits upon it all day long like a hen. What talk is yours of dower! I was bought as though I had been a Lucknow dancing-girl instead of a child.”
“Art thou sorry for the sale?”
“I have sorrowed; but to-day I am glad. Thou wilt never cease to love me now?—answer, my king.”
“Never—never. No.”
“Not even though the mem-log—the white women of thy own blood—love thee? And remember, I have watched them driving in the evening; they are very fair.”
“I have seen fire-balloons by the hundred. I have seen the moon, and—then I saw no more fire-balloons.”
Ameera clapped her hands and laughed. “Very good talk,” she said. Then with an assumption of great stateliness, “It is enough. Thou hast my permission to depart,—if thou wilt.”