THE PALACE BAZAAR
The Afghan maid modestly closed her eyes and bent her head, and Akbar smiled. "But tell me, Afghan maid," he asked, "whence comes the visitor whom thou hast to-night in thy stall?"
"She is a great lady from Bengal, sire, who comes with recommendations to me from my sister, Mihr-un-Nissa. I have shown her many of the sights of Agra; and I forced her to come to this Bazaar to-night, so that she may see something of the Queens and Begums of this Imperial palace before she returns to her distant village home."
"She is welcome in my palace," replied the Emperor. "And when she goes back to her native land she will, I hope, carry with her some kindly recollections of one whose dearest wish is to make his subjects, far and near, contented and happy."
"Step forward, my Hindu sister," whispered the Afghan maid to her, "and bow to the great Emperor."
Poor Hemlata had heard of the Emperor of Hindustan as of fabled gods whom mortal eyes can never see, and she could scarcely believe that the head that wore the crown and the hand that ruled the Empire were there before her. As the Emperor stood before the stall Hemlata could see through her veil the open forehead, the grey moustache, the dark, penetrating eyes, the kindly and benevolent face of the Monarch of Hindustan. Forgetting the custom of the Bazaar, where the Emperor and his subjects met almost as equals, and driven by a purpose which she had hidden in her heart when she came here, she knelt down and bowed to the ground before the Sovereign who swayed the destinies of nations. Queen Salima
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