Oman looked at her again, and made his salutation. It was not necessary that he should be told her estate:—that she belonged to the only educated class of women in India. And, in spite of himself, the sight of her gave him a strong feeling of mingled pleasure and of pain, that had in it a further reminiscence of this land. There had been a time when looks like hers had been for him.—But how?—and where? If the two men were preoccupied, Bhavani with Oman, Oman with his own thoughts, not so Zenaide. She was in the lightest of her moods, and she talked rapidly, her musical voice sounding like running water in Oman’s ears, as she addressed now one, now the other, now neither or both of them. To the wanderer, she had added the crowning touch to the scene:—the long, shadowy valley, far below, over which the crimson dusk was stealing; and, behind them, the delicate structure of the water-palace, its clear outlines softened by high-climbing vines and great clumps of feathery tamarind and bamboo. It was the land of enchanted dreams, and with him were its King and Queen:—this royal man with the quiet eyes, and the superb woman, crowned with her glory of hair—the henna-dyed locks that Oman had never seen before. But the hour passed like a breath. He remembered little of her careless talk; but he listened with intense interest when she fell into a discussion with Bhavani. She had been speaking lightly of the beauty of the evening, when, suddenly, without any reason, she made an abrupt transition to a matter in which the Rajah was deeply interested. “My lord, I have been thinking all day of the matter of Lona, the woman, and her child; and it is my wish that thou send the child to me. He shall become one of my household. Because he was taught theft from his infancy, shall he be punished for it? Let the woman meet what fate my lord wills. But send the boy to me. Is not this a solution of thy trouble?” and she smiled upon the King. “It is well thought, Zenaide. I will send him to thee. And yet the woman troubles me more.” “And wherefore? Did she not sin knowingly? Disobeyed she not the law?” answered Zenaide, with a little shrug of indifference that was almost scorn. Bhavani’s expression grew sad. “She sinned, but she knew also that her suffering could only be saved by sin. She stole first of all for her child. To her it meant that they should know hunger and nakedness no more. She had been brought into the world, and, in her turn, bore a boy. But the world refused her sustenance. Had she no right to take it, then? Listen, sage, to what I say; and tell me which is right: the woman, or the law? If a creature starve, and so steals bread from one that does not starve, shall she receive the ten lashes that the law provides?” Oman bent his head a little. “Could she not work?” he asked. “She is a widow. There is but one vocation open to her; and that I have forbidden in Mandu.”