Near dawn the German and Ranjoor
Singh came out together, to find her yet dancing, and she ceased only
to pull the German aside and speak to him.
"Does he _really_ speak German?" she whispered.
"He? He has read Nietzsche and von Bernhardi in the German!"
"Who are they?"
"They are difficult to read--philosophers."
"Has he satisfied you?"
"He has promised that he will."
"Then go before I send the rest away!"
So the German tried to look like a Mohammedan again, and went below
to a waiting landau. Before he was half-way down the stairs Yasmini's
hands gripped tight on Ranjoor Singh's forearms and she had him
backed into a corner.
"Ranjoor Singh, thou art no buffalo! I was wrong! Thou are a great
man, Ranjoor Singh!"
She received no answer.
"What hast thou promised him?"
"To show him a mutinous regiment of Sikhs."
"And what has he promised?"
"To show me what we seek."
She nodded.
"Good!" she said.
"So now I promise thee something," said Ranjoor Singh sternly. "To-
morrow--to-day--I shall eat black shame on thy account, for this is
thy doing. Later I will go to France. Later again, I will come back
and--"
"And love me as they all do!" laughed Yasmini, pushing him away.
If I must lie, who love the truth,
(And honour bids me lie),
I'll tell a lordly lie forsooth
To be remembered by.
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