One soft spring afternoon, a few days previous to that appointed for the Great Test Tournament, there came rolling up to his residence the royal carriage, drawn by prancing horses, and who should alight therefrom but the Emperor Felicitas himself. The dark servants trembled at the approach of such a mighty potentate, for Eastern ideas of the power of princes are not easily overcome, but Swami himself received the monarch with that easy and gentle courtesy he extended to everybody.
‘What doth the Emperor of so many dominions require of me?’ he asked, with a touch of his native Eastern politeness.
‘Indeed,’ cried the Emperor impetuously, ‘I wish my crown anywhere but on my head! What good is power if it leave one craving for that which he most desires?’
‘I want that, Swami, which I am denied, and which my heart is bursting for—the love of a woman—there! If thou hast magic power, as I am told thou possessest greatly, tell me how I can attain this?’
‘Is she so perverse?’ asked Swami quietly.
‘Perverse isn’t the word for it—she is ice, adamant—immovable as a rock! Yes,’ returned the Emperor despondently, ‘she is as cold as she is beautiful; and I have put her in prison! And, oh, I am utterly miserable. Believe me, Swami, I cannot sleep, eat, or work, for I am intensely, hopelessly miserable.’
‘I am truly sorry to see thy Majesty in such a plight,’ remarked Swami kindly. ‘But why didst thou place the lady thou lovest in a prison? It seems a high-handed way of dealing with a subject; truly a mighty strange method of inducing her love?’
‘I was put in a quandary,’ replied Felicitas candidly, for he knew there was no good gained by attempting to deceive the thought-reader; ‘I was suddenly surprised by visitors as I was attempting to detain her, when a craven spirit entered me, and I denounced her as a would-be murderer.’
‘Did she endeavour to harm thee?’ inquired Swami eagerly.
‘Yes, truly she raised her ebony life-preserver to strike me if I touched her.’