"Go, my son," said the old Khan, "I cannot gainsay thee in this matter. If we can protect Khan Mahomed or keep evil from his house, or if any of these vile plots can be traced to those concerned in them, a few sharp examples may deter others. But why not take some of the Päègah? those are dangerous quarters by night." "Impossible, father, they are too wary; and Bulwunt Rao says there will be spies and scouts watching everywhere. So we are better alone, and with your leave, father, I go to prepare myself." Afzool Khan opened the casement, and looked out. He partly leaned out of the window, and appeared to be gazing abstractedly over the city. The young moon was now low in the sky, and the stars shone out more brilliantly than before; but clouds were gathering fast in the south-west, which, from the lightning flashing about their tops, boded a storm. As yet, however, the gentle light of the moon pervaded all, glinting from the bright gilded pinnacles of domes and minarets, and resting tenderly upon the white terraces, walls, and projecting oriels of houses near him--upon the tapering minarets of his own private mosque, and the heavy but graceful foliage that hung about them. "It is a type of what is coming," thought the Khan--"here the moonlight only partially dispelling the gloom, which will increase; there heavy night-clouds already threatening. Even so with our fair kingdom: the tempest of sorrow may break over us. We cannot stop it, but we may at least endure the trial, and be true to our salt." He was long silent, and the beads which he had removed from his wrist were passing rapidly through his fingers, while his lips moved as though in prayer. Zyna dared not speak, yet he looked at her lovingly as his lips still moved, and passing his arm round her, drew her to him. Perhaps with that embrace more tender thoughts came into his heart, some memories that were sad yet grateful. "There will be no danger, Zyna," he said assuringly, as he felt her trembling, and guessed her thoughts; "Fazil and Bulwunt Rao are both wary. The moon, too, is setting, and it will be dark, perhaps raining. He comes, daughter," continued the Khan, as Fazil's foot was heard on the stairs; "let us look at him." As he spoke, Fazil entered the room and made the Hindu salutation of reverence to his father. "Should I be known as your son, father?" he asked. "Nemmo Narrayen Baba," cried Afzool Khan, laughing, and returning the salutation in the same style. "If thou knowest thyself, it is more than I can say of thee."