Son. Sometimes, my mother, sometimes. On the Government side of the Border, women are taught to read, and write, and cast accounts, and——
Mother [with intention]. Far be the day when such an one is brought to my house as a bride. For I say——
Father. No matter. What does he say about those French women?
Son. He says: "They are not divided in opinion as to which of their enemies shall be sought after first. They say: 'Let us even the account every day and night out of the nearest assembly of the enemy and when we have brought all the enemy into the right way of thinking we can demand the very people who did the shame and offences. In the meantime, let it be any life.' This is good counsel for us in our account, oh my mother."
Father [after a pause]. True! True! It is good advice. Let it be any life.... Is that all?
Son. That is all. He says: "Let it be any life." And I think so too.
Mother. "Any life." Even so! And then we can write to him quickly that we have taken our revenge quickly. [She reaches for her husband's rifle which she passes over to her son, who stretches his hand towards it with a glance at his father.]
Father. On your head, Akbar, our account must lie—at least till I am better. Do you try to-night?
Son. May be! I wish we had the high-priced illuminating fireballs he spoke of. [Half rises.]
Mother. Wait a little. There is the call for the Ishr [the evening prayer].