Part 8 (1/2)

Clear Crystal Bowl! Thy touch, icy cold, Chills lovers lips that lay overbold Hot clinging kisses on thy bright brim, Crystal Bowl!

What wilt thou bring to him, Love or Despair?

Clear Crystal Bowl! I laugh like thy wine!

Bring me Life's whole! all things must be mine!

Is not the wide world mirrored in thee Crystal Bowl?

I bid thee bring to me Joy, Grief, Life, Death--”

The voice ceased and there was silence for a little while.

But in all the long after-years the memory of those tinkling notes, that thin voice claiming the whole of life, remained with Zahir-ud-din Mahomed.

”Well! G.o.d's peace go with thee,” said Poverty-prince brightly at the last; ”methinks thy boyhood is about past, and sterner stuff hath to come. But keep the gift of death and if thou lose it--at least remember my poor verses. And, coz--” here the wizened face almost dimpled with laughter, ”if thou comest across the frightened maid--I give no names, they are an enc.u.mbrance, remember to make her not frightened of my twin! Farewell.”

It was a stirring night. The river had to be crossed silently in the very face of Khosrau Shah's pickets (for he was holding the north bank for his nominee the nincomp.o.o.p) and a stealthy way made skirting the enemy's camp, ere they could reach the hills beyond. Some of the party felt inclined to put Andijan tactics in force, make a rush through the out-posts, give and take a few sabre cuts, and so make off; but Babar, even though old Kasim hesitated, had learnt something besides accomplishments in his uncle's camp; he had learnt that time was long, and that it was well to choose your own. So he rode canny.

It was dawn ere they reached the last vantage ground whence they could see the camp they had left. It lay curiously calm and peaceful. Kasim, more than half-asleep on his horse now there was no chance of a fine fight, yawned, and stretched his arms wide.

”No more of that for me,” he said l.u.s.tily. ”I am for cut and thrust and a good bellyful of plain food.”

”But I am for all things,” laughed Babar. He was trying to pick out his cousin's tent, and as he spoke he put his hand into the bosom of his coat to feel for the Crystal Bowl.

He could not find it!

Had it dropped out or what...?

”I must go back,” he said, half to himself--”I must, I must!”

”Go back? Wherefore?” asked old Kasim. ”What is it, sire--to go back is Death; the enemy is awake by now.”

The boy-King looked at him keenly. ”Aye!” he said shortly, ”and to go on is Life. I must remember, as he said. Forward! gentlemen!”

CHAPTER V

The day of delight has come and the wind brings scent Of musk and rose and lilies and peppermint.

Oh! day of delight pa.s.s slow!

G.o.d's flowers must blow.

The day of despair has come and the wind brings dust To bury the flowers; the song of the birds is hushed.

Oh, day of despair pa.s.s swift!

Let G.o.d's clouds lift.

The days of despair and delight have come; Ah, me! I care not away from my home.

The days of G.o.d pa.s.s swift and slow.