“Ahee! Ahoo!” she laughed. “Did not the commander-in-chief tell me that Tamerlanistan needed a strong hand and a strong mind to rule my turbulent subjects? He was right—by Allah and by Allah! And it is thou who shalt be Firman Firma—Decreer of Decrees! It is thou who shalt be prime minister while Hajji Akhbar is away!”
And thus it happened that, a day or two later, in full durbar, the princess announced that a rough woman from the hills would hereafter be regent and that she should be addressed by the honorable title of Zil-i-Sultana, “Shadow of the Queen.” Nor, which is interesting to consider, was there very much surprise in the bazaars. For, since time immemorial, have the autocrats of Asia maintained the democratic principle that ability is the only qualification for the highest services; have they stooped among the crowd, clutched a common soldier, a slipper bearer, a tobacconist, a renegade, even a slave, and given him limitless power, absolutely disregarding all the barriers of birth and cultivation and asking of him nothing but success.
Thus it was Ayesha Zemzem who shared the princess' peacock throne when, shortly afterwards, Babu Chandra had been granted another audience.
This time he spoke softly. He did not mention the indignities which his fellow countryman had heaped upon him nor did he mention justice.
“Heavenborn,” he began; then, addressing the nurse who was looking upon him with a chilly, unpropitious eye, “and thou, O Shadow of the Heaven-
