Orion shone to the north, setting slowly behind the mighty rampart of shadowed mountains in which the starry sword was already hidden.

They sat silent for a little while, hand in hand, like the children that they were. And then suddenly a noise below them, made Babar swing his legs to the ground and stand firm before his sister.

"Who goes?" he asked and his voice rang through the darkness; but no answer came.

"'Twas a falling stone, methinks," said his sister carelessly; yet even as she spoke she also sprang to her feet, every atom of her, soul and body alert for something, she scarce knew what.

She knew, however, in a second, for a darker shadow showed vaguely at the end of the balcony, vaulted lightly over the parapet, and a pleasant voice said gaily--

"Mirza Baisanghâr of the House of Timur, cousin to the King of Ferghâna, at your service."

"Baisanghâr!" echoed Babar. "How camest thou?--" then, even in his confusion remembering, as he generally did, les convenances for others he added: "Thou hadst best retire, my sister, after making thy appropriate salutation."

So, for one second the girl's eyes straining through the starlight could see her cousin. A charming figure truly! Not dressed, like her brother, in country clothes, but in the silks and satins of the town. A dainty figure too, of middle height and slender make, yet manly withal. The round face, unlike the faces of his cousins, showing Turkhoman descent unmistakably, yet with such indescribable attractiveness.

"May the Peace of the Most High be upon you, my cousin," she said softly and her voice fluttered.

"And may His Peace remain with you, fair lady," he replied gravely, with the finest of Court salutes. That was all; then she withdrew and the shadows hid her going.

"By my soul, Baisanghâr," said Babar joyously, when he had seated himself and his cousin side by side among the cushions, "I am utterly rejoiced to see thee again; though how, or wherefore thou camest--"

Prince Baisanghâr interrupted him with a light laugh. "How, sayest thou? By the roof of course; have I not been in Andijân before? and did I not once climb hitherwards--but of that, no more! Only thou wilt have to set thy masons to work, coz; for by God's truth my foothold was but rotten more than once. Sure I must be born to the bowstring since sudden death will not have me elseways! Yet of all seriousness, I came nigh to being dashed to pieces. And as for wherefore? Sure I came in duty bound to thank my kingly cousin for his courteous gift of horse-medicine. Aye! and for my horse too--for the second time--since, thanks to the drugs, he is alive and kicking."

Babar sat back. "Horse-medicines?" he echoed. "What horse-medicine?--I sent thee none."

Baisanghâr turned his head instantly to the darkness, and his voice rose perceptibly. "Yet it came from thee, my cousin," he replied blandly, "with thy salutations. In a packet of silken paper--such as ladies use for their trinkets, and tied with crinkled gold-thread such as ladies use--"

"Yea! it was I, Mirza Baisanghâr," came a voice from the darkness; a voice clear, unabashed. "I sent it--I, the Princess Royal, so there is no need for fine wit to beat about the bush. I sent it, because--because my brother the King gave thee the horse and I was loth--loth it should die."

The voice trailed away faintly, and Mirza Baisanghâr's eyes brimmed over with soft mirth; while Babar, forgetful of all save outraged etiquette, said sternly:

"Sister! and I told thee to go."

"And I went," retorted the voice rebelliously, "so far as eyesight goes. None can see me and 'tis the woman's right to listen."

Prince Baisanghâr laughed aloud. "By the prophet! she speaks truth, coz; ladies have the law of listening all over the world; aye! and of speaking too. So let be, since we are cousins and free-born Chagatâi of the house of Ghengis."

But Babar stickled. "Aye, we are; but thou art not--not on thy mother's side."

"My mother!" echoed Baisanghâr, his voice full of amusement. "Lo! I admit it! On my mother's side I am beyond salvation, being of the wild Horde-of-Black-Sheep! for which may God forgive me since 'tis not my fault I was not born a White-Lamb!" He named the two great divisions of his Turkhoman ancestry with infinite zest, then went on lightly: "But I fail of myself in other ways--many of them. I made an ode concerning it, a while past, that sets Baisanghâr Black-Sheep-Prince forth to a nicety!" and he began airily to hum a tune.

"Sing it to us, cousin," came that sweet voice from the darkness.

There was a moment of silence, as if the hearer were startled, perhaps touched; then came the almost stiff reply:

"My fair cousin is too kind. The ode as verse is nothing worth. And its subject is, beyond belief--bad! Still, since she is Princess-Royal and I am but her slave, the order is obeyed."

So through the night and out into the stars his high tenor voice rose and trilled in minor quavers.