of celebrated beauties. Scarcely any even among contemporary men could hold his own with or excel her in either artistry or knowledge whatsoever. Meherunnisha was unsurpassed in dance and music and had the added charms of her skill in painting and verse-writing. Her wit had a greater fascination than her beauty. Moti, too, was no lesser an ability. These two witches set their wits to-day to know each other's minds. Meherunnisha was at her easel with paint and brush in her private appartments with Moti chewing betel, looking over Meherunnisha's shoulder and poring over the drawing.
"How do you judge the drawing?" asked Meherunnisha.
"It is what your painting always looks like" replied Moti. "It is a regret that no one is as much finished an artist as you are."
"Even if it be the fact, what causes the regret?"
"If any one else could have your painting skill then the likeness of your face might have been preserved."
"The entombing earth shall preserve the impress of my face." Meherunnisha made this remark in a somewhat serious air.
Sister, what makes you awfully of a bad humour to-day?"
"Where is the lack of humour? But how can I forget even the thought of your leaving me to-morrow morning? Why should I not have the added pleasure of your few day's extended stay?"
"Who lacks the taste for pleasure! If it be in my
