With a sense of infinite relief I told her that my visit was a private
one to herself.
"Is that the truth?" she inquired, looking rather at her women for some
confirmation than at me for a reply.
"It is indeed," I answered, unhesitatingly; "I have come to you as one
woman would come to another who is in trouble."
"But how may that be?" she rejoined, haughtily. "You must know, madam,
that all women are not alike; some are born princesses, and some are
born slaves." She pronounced these words very slowly, and in the court
language of the Siamese.
"Yes, we are not all alike, dear lady," I replied, gently; "I have not
come here out of mere idle curiosity, but because I could not refuse
your foster-sister May-Peâh's request to do you a service."
"What did you say?" cried the lady, joyfully rising, and drawing me
towards her, putting her arms ever so lovingly round my neck, and
laying her burning cheek against mine. "Did you say May-Peâh, May-Peâh?"
Without another word, for I could not speak, I was so much moved, I
drew out of my pocket the mysterious letter, and put it into her hands.
I wish I could see again such a look of surprise and joy as that which
illuminated her proud face. So rapid was the change from despair to
gladness, that she seemed for the moment supremely beautiful.
Her bps trembled, and tears filled her eyes, as with a nervous movement
she tore open the velvet covering and leaned towards the earthen lamp
to read her precious letter.
I could not doubt that she had a tender heart, for there was a
beautiful flush on her wan face, which was every now and then faintly
perceptible in the flickering lamp-light.
A smile half of triumph and half of sadness curved her fine lip as she
finished the letter and turned to communicate its contents to her eager
companions in a language unknown to me.
After this the three women talked together long and anxiously, the two
attendants urging their mistress to do something to which apparently
she would not consent, for at last she threw the letter away angrily,
and covered her face with her hands, as if unable to resist their
arguments.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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