As they resumed their seats on the divan, Khadija gave a lingering look into Georgia’s eyes, trying to discover whether she was possessed of information upon this point also, but finding herself baffled, leaned forward and spoke in a whisper.
“O doctor lady, I will not deceive thee. It is my master’s daughter—my Rose of the World, my child Zeynab.”
“And what is the matter with her?”
“O my lady, I will hide nothing from thee. The maiden is light of foot and venturesome as the wild goats. Some days ago—it may have been four or five—she was climbing upon the walls of the garden with the slave-girls, and she declared to them that she could go further than any of them along the wall where it was broken. Thy handmaid called to her with many rebukes to come down, but she was headstrong and went on, and presently a part of the wall fell with her to the ground. Nor was that all, for a great stone lay upon her foot and crushed it, and nothing that I have done will cure it.”
“What have you tried?” asked Georgia—and the old woman gave a list of various native remedies she had administered, all of them sounding equally inadequate to a European listener, and the greater number either painful or disgusting.
“And now, O my lady, the foot is swollen to the size of twice my head, and it has turned black, and the maiden sobs and moans day and night.”
“That sounds as though the bones were crushed,” said Georgia. “I may have to take off the foot.”
“Never, O doctor lady! Better that the child should die, though she is the light of my eyes, and Fath-ud-Din will slay me if any ill befalls her. Rather than lose her foot she must die, for who will marry a woman with only one foot?”
“I will have a look at it, and see what I can do,” said Georgia. “It may be possible to remove the shattered bones without amputation. But you must understand that if I come I take the responsibility and the authority in the case. If it is only possible to save the girl’s life by amputating her foot, it will have to be done. You must leave me to settle it with Fath-ud-Din, and I will take the blame.”
“Nay!” cried Khadija, with still more energy. “Fath-ud-Din must know nothing of this, whether the maiden recover or not. O doctor lady, she is all that I have, saving my son Yakub, and when I have seen her married to the King’s son Antar Khan I can die happy; but Fath-ud-Din would take her at once from my keeping if he heard what had happened to her, or knew that I had brought in an English doctor-woman to see her. Thou wilt not tell him, O doctor lady? I know that the English speak the truth. Fath-ud-Din hates them; but if they have the skill to save his daughter, it is well to make use of it without his knowledge.”