Ashimullah looked round cautiously, but saw
nobody; the big black slave held his breath, but laid his hand on
the scimitar that he wore. Ashimullah waited. Then Lallakalla
came out.
"Yes, of a truth this brown-haired one is most lovely," thought
the big slave. "It would seem impossible that the others can be
so lovely. Moreover, she looks amiable enough. Yet I must see
the others. Which will come next?" And he composed himself to
wait for the next, not caring whether she were the ruddy,
the golden, or the black, so that she came quickly.
But, to the amazement of the slave, Lallakalla tore off the
silken robe she wore and cried to her husband, "Give me the blue
robe--yes, and the golden hair." And, having put on the blue
robe, she took from Ashimullah's hand something that he had taken
from the square box, and put it on her head. Then Ashimullah
gave her a smaller box, and, taking out paints and brushes and a
mirror, she made a complexion for herself. And thus she was
transformed into a golden-haired lady with cheeks of rosy red,
and in this guise she passed in to the Sultana's presence.
"The dog!" thought the slave. "Then he took only two wives
more!"
Presently Lallakalla came forth; and all happened as before, save
that she stained her face to an olive tint and put on a wig of
coal-black hair.
"By the Prophet!" thought the slave, "he took but one wife more!"
Yet again Lallakalla came out from visiting the Sultana, and on
this occasion she hastily donned a robe of red, sprinkled
white powder over her cheeks, and set on her head a most
magnificent structure of ruddy hair.
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