‘I have heard great accounts of thine attainments,’ replied Swami, endeavouring to check his excitement, ‘I have long desired the opportunity of meeting with England’s rarest lady.’
Mercia looked at him earnestly for a moment; then blushed, and an instant later recovering herself, she smiled archly—
‘Ah!’ she exclaimed, ‘it seems to me that all men are given to flattery, I imagined that the illustrious Swami would have been an exception.’
‘Because all men say the same that proves it is no flattery,’ said Swami deprecatingly; ‘nevertheless it is not meet that one should give expression to his opinion while yet he is a stranger. Pardon me, Mistress Mercia, for the liberty taken. But let me entreat of thee to raise thy veil; otherwise I shall be at a disadvantage when reading thy destiny, which I presume, is the object of thy visit,’ he added artfully.
‘Certainly,’ answered Mercia innocently; while another bright smile lit up her face with a singular radiance, as she threw back the dark veil with which she had been careful to conceal herself while coming from the prison. ‘I do not use these things always,’ she added, ‘it was the disgrace of being seen come out of a prison that induced me to wear it at all.’
‘The disgrace is his who sent thither the innocent. The noon of another day shall place the dishonour where it is due. Lady, I am acquainted with thy design in coming here, it is to learn the issue of thy trial. Rest assured, all is well; the arrangements are perfect that thy friends have made.’
‘Even so my counsel tells me: he says the evidence of Sadbag who was in the room during the time that the Emperor accuses me of attempting his life is most convincing. Nevertheless, as the old man himself is accused of conspiring with me against his Majesty, the Emperor, I have my fears anent the trial’s issue; for such evidence will not be credited the same as if he were an independent witness. But now the matter has taken another aspect. This day a pardon has come, unsolicited by me, from the Emperor, and I am fully released without a trial, without condemnation, I am pardoned! Unfold to me this mystery, I pray, and give me thy good counsel.’
All this time the Soul-reader was gazing upon the beautiful face turned towards him in anxious appeal: knowing full well of the certainty of her position, his mind was not disturbed with the perplexities of the situation. Nevertheless, he deemed it impolitic to explain everything fully: such information could not turn the current of affairs, he argued to himself; it would only have the effect of increasing her reluctance to appear in court at all.
‘Let thine anxieties be dispersed at once,’ he urged gently, ‘there is no cause at all for alarm: only trust thy good friend Sadbag; he will make it pretty warm for the Emperor.’
‘How so?’ inquired Mercia, with great curiosity.