In the Guardianship of GodSteel, Flora Annie Webster
General
In the Guardianship of God
Steel, Flora Annie Webster
India -- Fiction; Short stories, English
She spoke evenly, though for the moment the longing to strangle
something had transferred itself to the saffron-coloured sugar-drop
all spangled with silver which had emerged from its chrysalis of a
_burka_. What business had the poor thin creature with such garments
when _her_ beauty was hidden by mere rags?
Burfâni laughed in her turn; an easy, indifferent laugh, and stretched
out her slim henna-dyed palm with the usual friendly offering of
cardamoms.
"Take one, sister," she said soothingly, "they are good for spleen and
excessive grief. _Hai! Hai!_ thou wilt be forlorn, indeed, now thy
occupation is gone."
Lâzîzan, with her mouth full of spices, tittered again more
artificially than ever. "I can do other things, perchance, beside
suckle babes. Maybe I weary of it, and am glad of a change."
The saffron-coloured sugar-drop, seated on a low stool in front of the
white-sheeted bed with its solemn little gaily-dressed burden, looked
at its companion distastefully through its long lashes, and the
slender, henna-dyed hand, catching some loops of the jasmine chaplets
it wore, held them like a bouquet close to the crimson-tinted lips.
"It is a virtuous task, my sister," quoth Burfâni, gravely sniffing
away at the heavy perfume, as if she needed something to make her
environment less objectionable. "Besides, it is ever a mistake to
forsake the profession of one's birth--"
"And wherefore should I?" interrupted Lâzîzan, seizing her opportunity
recklessly. "Hast thou forsaken it, and are we not sisters?"
Again a cold, critical look of dislike came from the long, narrow eyes
with their drowsy lids.
"Such words are idle, sister. Forget them. Thou wouldst not find it
easier--"
"How canst tell?" interrupted Lâzîzan once more. "As well say that
thou couldst put up with my life."
The saffron and silver daintiness shifted its look towards the bed,
and the henna-dyed hand straightened a wrinkle in the sheet softly.
"God knows!" she said with a sudden smile. "Anyhow, sister, 'tis not
wise to change one's profession as one grows old."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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