THE SLAVE GIRL OF AGRA
smiled; the Emperor's generous heart was touched.
"Arise, fair sister from the East," he said with that natural eloquence which came straight from his heart. "Arise, for I come to thee to-night not as a King, but as a brother to a sister. Greatly am I touched by thy devotion and respect, and may the God of the Moslems and the Hindus make me—a humble worker and an erring man—worthy of the work He has entrusted to me, and worthy of the affection of all my subjects."
"Why, this is true poetry, my husband," said Queen Salima, looking up to her lord with admiration. "My verse is poor and stiff compared with the words which flow spontaneous from thy royal lips."
"I am but an illiterate man, my gifted Queen, but what my heart feels I try to utter."
"And the greatest poet that ever lived, my lord, could do no more."
"Ask this Bengal lady from what town she comes, and to what family she belongs."
"She comes from Debipur, sire," promptly replied the Afghan maid, "and her husband is the new Lord of Debipur, one of the most ancient estates in thy new Province of Bengal."
"Ha! Debipur! Methinks I have heard that name. Is it not in constant feud with a neighbouring estate—what do they call it?"
"With the estate of Birnagar, sire," replied again the Afghan maid, who carried on the conversation, occasionally consulting Hemlata in whispers. For Hemlata spoke little of the northern tongue though she understood it, and she was too timid and shy
292
