He closed the door of the pigeon house, picked up a small silver bell beside the divan, and rang lightly. Almost before he had replaced the bell, a eunuch was waiting. "Your pleasure, Sharif Sahib." "The Englishman. Where is he now?" "In the garden, Sharif Sahib. He's always there at this time of day, with the Hindu woman." "What's he doing there?" "Who can say, Sharif Sahib? All we know is he goes into the garden every day around noon--I think the Hindu woman may be teaching him to play the sitar there--before going to _durbar _in the Red Fort. But he will be leaving soon now, as you must, to be present for His Majesty's birthday weighings." "The English _feringhi _was invited?" Nadir Sharif was momentarily startled. "He received an invitation, Sharif Sahib." "Bring him to the reception room. I will see him now, before he leaves." The eunuch snapped around and was gone. Nadir Sharif paused to translate the cipher one last time before ringing for his turban. "Ambassador Hawksworth, please forgive my preoccupation these past few days." Nadir Sharif was bowing, it seemed, unusually low. "We're not always privileged to entertain our guests as we might wish. Preparations for today's birthday ceremonies have kept me rushing about the palace. But please, be seated." Hawksworth's gaze swept the room. It was cavernous, hung with thick tapestries on every wall, and lightly perfumed with rose incense. Before he could reply a bowing servant was proffering a chalice of Persian wine. As Nadir Sharif watched a glass being poured, his voice continued, silken. "Have you found anything here to pass the time? They tell me you've developed an interest in the sitar. A marvelous instrument really. And in my garden. Tell me, what do you think of it?" "I can't decide." Hawksworth felt his caution rising automatically, as it did any time he found himself alone with Nadir Sharif. "It reminds me of some of the Tudor gardens connected with English castles, but still it's different. I like the precise geometry of the walkways and hedges, and the running water. It's a soothing place to sit and practice." "So you find the Persian garden soothing? It is Persian, you know. The whole idea of a symmetrical garden comes from Persia. Not from this barbarous wasteland." Nadir Sharif motioned him to a bolster, and paused until he was seated. "Yes, it's soothing. I agree with you. But of course, that's one of the purposes of a garden." Nadir Sharif eased himself against a bolster and accepted a glass of _sharbat_. "It pleases me that you enjoy my garden. You see, Ambassador, to a man in the desert, an oasis, a spot of water and green, is like a paradise. So we sometimes believe we are creating a bit of Allah's Paradise when we create a garden. You know, the Holy Quran itself tells us that Paradise will be something like a garden." "But whose idea was it to build Persian gardens here?"