she flung back the curtains and peered out, her veil a third across her face. Her men did not eye her directly when she addressed them, and thus the proprieties were more or less observed.
A dark, sallowish district superintendent of police, faultlessly uniformed, an Englishman, trotted by on a tired horse, and, seeing by her retinue what manner of person she was, chaffed her.
'O mother,' he cried, 'do they do this in the zenanas? Suppose an Englishman came by and saw that thou hadst no nose?'
'What?' she shrilled back. 'Thy own mother has no nose? Why say so, then, on the open road?'
It was a fair counter. The Englishman threw up his hand with a gesture of a man hit at sword-play. She laughed and nodded.
'Is this a face to tempt virtue aside?' She withdrew all her veil and stared at him.
It was by no means lovely, but as the man gathered up his reins he called it a Moon of Paradise, a Disturber of Integrity, and a few other fantastic epithets which doubled her up with mirth.
'That is a nut-cut (rogue),' she said. 'All police-constables are nut-cuts; but the police-wallahs are the worst. Hai, my son, thou hast never learned all that since thou camest from Belait (Europe). Who suckled thee?'
'A pahareen—a hillwoman of Dalhousie, my mother. Keep thy beauty under a shade—O Dispenser of Delights,' and he was gone.
'These be the sort,'—she took a fine judicial tone, and stuffed her mouth with pan. 'These be the sort to dispense justice. They know the land and the customs of the land. The others, all new from Europe, suckled by white women and learning our tongues from books, are worse than the pestilence. They do harm to kings.' Then she told a long, long tale to the world at large, of
