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Lady Hababa looked tenderly down upon her niece, but the sorrow still lingered upon her face, for whenever she mentioned her son, Arshalous' face filled with spite and hate. But the Lady spoke no words to show her sorrow, and the only exterior manifestation of the sorrow was the expression upon her face. Instead she tried to speak lightly, as if no troubles came to their family. "How beautiful you looked last night at the banquet," she said. "The feasting and the music reminded me of the days when I was young and pretty. I met my husband at a banquet, you know, my dear. 'Twas the first banquet I had ever attended; before my parents always kept me at home, for the hours were too late for one so young as I. That night I went for the first time, but my mother was ill and my father determined to stay home with her. I was quite frightened and timid when I arrived at the Palace, for I did not know how to behave. My husband was a young and handsome nobleman, and full of gallantry. He was introduced to me, and allowed me to follow him about through the evening and rely on him for help."
Arshalous smiled, with some encouragement, for Lady Hababa's cheeks flushed rosily and her eyes brightened when she spoke of her husband, and a youthfulness returned to her face that grew wrinkled. "I am glad you enjoyed yourself," said Lady Arshalous.
"I did enjoy myself," said Hababa, "but, dear niece, I wish you and my son would strive to be better towards each other. I do not know how this hatred between you arose, for you were close companions when you were children, but it is a painful thing to see."
"Speaking of your son," said Lady Arshalous, airily, and avoiding an answer to her aunt's plea, "how does he take to the Emissary's words of last night? When he said that the King's son should be King?"
"He did not care overmuch," said the Lady mother. "He was upset at first, though he did not show it at the banquet. He was sulky when we came home, but he told me it does affect him much. The King's word, he says, is all that matters, and not the Emissary's own suggestions." She paused thoughtfully, and then broke out with a vehemence, but with also a deep and desparate longing. "I hope with all my heart that my son does not become King! He grows more corrupt and power-hungry each day, and if the power is given to him I fear there shall be no hope for him, and I have so longed for him to become again the gentle boy he was as a child, who loved freely. At least I hope he will not have the opportunity to inflict the actions of his faults upon the people. He has pained me enough already without extending harm to others."
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