"I see a black bag hung round your neck, what may it contain?" asked Prem Chand.
"It is a charm; I know not what is in the bag," was Bandhu's reply.
"Search and see!" cried Prem Chand, whose quick eye, through the covering of ignorance, detected the shape of the mirror, and even, though dimly, its brightness.
"I will never open the bag," said Bandhu, with petulance; "why should you come and trouble me thus, why meddle with things which do not concern you?"
"Because I am bound to obey the command of the king," replied the faithful messenger; "besides, I am moved with pity for a youth whom I see to be wronged and deceived. Had the king's plans been carried out, and the money sent by him been applied to its proper use, you would never have been dressed in such coarse, soiled garments as those which you wear. You would have received the education fit for the adopted son of a king, instead of wasting your time in idleness or something worse. You must feel, O Bandhu, that you are not prepared to stand in the presence of our great king."
"I am in no haste to go to him," said Bandhu.
"What! Not to make one of the honoured band who, in goodly raiment, surround his throne, and find their delight in his service! If you but knew the glories of his court—"
Bandhu would not let Prem Chand finish his sentence.
"I know all, I have heard everything a thousand times from Farebwala!" cried Bandhu. "I can tell you many a story of the princes and princesses who dwell at the court."
"I have told you my story," said Prem Chand, "and now am ready to hear yours."