"You must not touch her, Sahib."
"But she's . . ."
"No, Sahib." They gripped his arms tighter. "Can't you see? She has the sickness."
"What are you talking about?"
"It began late today, in the bazaar. Perhaps they do not know of it yet in the fort. At first no one realized what it was. But tonight, while she was dancing, one of the slaves from Sharif Sahib's kitchen came to tell us. Two of the eunuchs and five of his servants have become very sick." He paused to look at Kamala. "I think she must have known. That is why she wanted to dance tonight."
"Knew what? What did she know?"
"The plague, Sahib. The slave who came said that the plague has struck all over Agra. It has never happened in India before." The servant paused. "It is the will of Allah. The prophet Samad foretold it. Now it has come."
Hawksworth turned again to Kamala. She was still watching him with empty, expressionless eyes, as though her life had just poured out of her. He looked down at her for a moment, then reached for a pillow and carefully slipped it beneath her head. Her lips moved as she tried to form words, but at first no sound came. Then, as though again finding some strength beyond herself, her voice came in a whisper.
"Did you see?"
"What . . . ?"