is what I have said all
along, dear lady'; and with undoubtedly great affection the woman folded
to her breast her now sobbing mistress.

"I turned away, as was proper, and busied myself with a chart of the
heavens over which I had been poring when my visitors had arrived. On
again raising my eyes, I found that I was alone.

"This incident I had well nigh forgotten, and near a year had elapsed.
For some months I had not seen the sultana; she remained in the strict
seclusion of the harem. Her highness was unwell, most people said. But I
knew the truth; Mirza Shah himself had told it to me, his face beaming
with pride and pleasure. At last his dearest hopes were to be realized;
the sultana was about to become a mother.

"Meanwhile I was on the alert to cast the horoscope of the child the
very hour it should arrive. My preparations had been all made for some
time past. Now was I only studying the stars night by night, so that I
should be the better prepared to read them correctly.

"At last, almost at the midnight hour, came a messenger running to the
tower with the news that a child had been born--a son, Allah be praised.
Then I set me instantly to my task, and it was with deep thankfulness I
saw that the conjunction of the planets and stars was highly favourable.
I carefully recorded the exact position of each heavenly body, and had
already read from my rough chart strength and valour for the boy that
had just been born, beauty of figure, good endowments of mind, when once
again I lifted my eyes to the heavens. But to my horror and dismay at
that very instant a streak of fire shot from west to east across the
first house, straight toward the planet there ruling, where it
disappeared. Just the fraction of a second had passed in the passing of
that fiery star. But I knew what it meant, for my grandfather had
instructed me in this matter. The child into whose horoscope had come
this dread intruder was destined, if he lived beyond infancy, to slay
his own father. And with the heaviness of lead this foreknowledge of
destiny settled on my soul.

"My head had sunk dejectedly on my breast, when I started up at the
touch of a hand on my shoulder, and the greeting of a joyous voice--that
of Mirza Shah.

"'A son, Syed Ali, a son. Joy, joy, joy! And now, what do the stars
say?'

"Was it cowardice, was it pity, was it sympathy for him in his long
deferred happiness, that prompted me to act as I did? Even at this day I
myself