She saw his eyes looking down into hers, and asked, "What is it,
Sahib--what disturbs you? If it is a question, ask me."
His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight. "Just nothing that a man
should bother over--that he should ask a woman about."
But almost involuntarily he brushed his face across her black hair and
said, "Just that, Gulab--that it's like burying one's nose in a rose."
"The attar, Sahib? I love it because it's gentle."
"Ah, that's why you wore the rose that I came by at the _nautch_?"
"Yes, Sahib. Though I am Bootea, because of a passion for the rose I am
called Gulab."
"Lovely--the Rose! that's just what you are, Gulab. But the attar is so
costly! Are you a princess in disguise?"
"No, Sahib, but one brought me many bottles of it, the slim, long bottles
like a finger; and a drop of it lasts for a moon."
"Ah, I see," and Barlow smiled; "you have for lover a raja, the one who
brought the attar."
The figure in the cloak shivered again, but the girl said nothing. And
Barlow, rather to hear her voice, for it was sweet like flute music,
chaffed: "What is he like, the one that you love? A swaggering tall
black-whiskered Rajput, no doubt, with a purple vest embroidered in gold,
clanking with _tulwar_, and a voice like a Brahmini bull--full of demand.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119