Part 46 (1/2)

From morn till night I follow her But she no word doth deign.

Oh! ice chill maid! for pity's sake Give me at least disdain.

Wind! make each scented tress unbind.

Sun! set her life-blood free.

Lamp! make her weary for true love.

Moon! bring her dreams of me.”

”'Tis only a translation,” he said thoughtfully, ”but I like it--'tis so simple.”

And then his mind drifted away to that spring morning among the flowers on the high alps at Ilak when he had wondered at the look in Dearest-One's eyes. And his hand went out to seek hers and found it.

So they sat there hand in hand like children for a s.p.a.ce, and a great weariness of the uselessness of life came to Babar.

”Lo!” he said suddenly, ”I will make over my kingdom to thee, Humayon.

Thou art young. I grow old and I am tired of ruling and reigning. A garden and those I love--what more can any man desire?” He spoke half in earnest, half in jest.

Maham turned pale; Dildar and the paternal aunts and khanums--by this time there were ninety-six in all!--cracked their thumbs, and even Dearest-One shook her head and said quickly: ”May G.o.d keep you in His Peace upon the throne for many, many years.”

But the Blessed-Damozel who always sat a little apart only smiled. ”My lord means the Garden of the Eighth Heaven,” she put in quickly. ”Yea!

there is peace there, and rest for everybody.”

”My lady says sooth,” acquiesced Babar and their grave eyes met.

But little Gulbadan was agog because it was time the fireworks began or _Nanacha_ would be sending her to bed, so the idea of abdication ended in Babar's catching her up in his arms and carrying her off to see how the wheels turned round. Then Alwar, while Dildar gave little shrieks of horror (in which she was joined in louder echo by the Astonis.h.i.+ngly Beautiful Princess who invariably wept and laughed to order) actually set fire himself to a bomb and when it exploded clapped his hands with glee.

”When I am a big man like my father, the Emperor,” he said boastfully, ”I will fire ten guns at a time.”

”'Tis silly to say such things,” retorted Madam Gulbadan superbly.

But the child's keen little face was not in the least abashed.

”Lo! sister, 'tis silly of thee to say no when thou canst not tell where I shall be as grown man. Likely in some bigger place than this.”

And he waved his hand contemptuously towards Babar's great palaces.

Whereat they all laughed; for they were a merry, happy party. So they feasted and enjoyed themselves. As little Gulbadan wrote in after years: ”It was like the day of Resurrection.”

CHAPTER VIII

Death stood among my flowers, his bright wings furled: ”This bud I take with me to that still world Where no wind blows, where suns.h.i.+ne does not fade, Yon open rose is yours,” he gently said; But I refused. He smiled and shook his head, So empty-handed back to Heaven sped And lo! by sun-scorch and the wild wind shorn Ere eve, my bud, my blossom both were gone.

Humayon remained with his father for a week or two. Handsome, _insouciant_, always agreeable and of a curious dignity of carriage he seemed cut out to be a King. Wherever he went, no matter in what society he might be--even his father's--the eye rested on him with pleasure. And yet Babar's eyes, fond as they were, failed to see something he fain would have seen. There seemed no sense of responsibility, such as he, Babar, had had at his years. Yet it was hardly fair to judge the lad by the standard of one who had perforce been thrust into power at eleven years of age. And, after all, Humayon was barely two and twenty; still quite a lad. There was time yet.

So, weary as he was, Babar said no more about abdicating; he even tried to think no more about a plan he had cherished of going back for the next hot weather to Kabul and leaving Humayon in charge of Hindustan.

”My Kabul,” as he ever called it; saying to his sons in jesting earnest--”Let none of you covet it for I will not give it! It is mine own, my very own. The only thing in G.o.d's earth I care to keep, for there He gave me happiness.”