"Ay," replied another, "among gems the diamond has greater subtlety than all others."
"I would like," said one, "to wear a circlet of well-chosen stones to serve as oracle and counsellor. The opal should assure me of my friend's fealty, the invisible slaves of the diamond should guard my fortunes, the serpent that cast its harmful eye on me would be blinded by my emerald, for, in fine, I believe that vassal genii attend each gem, and obey the behests of him who holds it."
"The diamond," said the poet, "guards the destinies of lovers."
"Love," said Atmâ smiling, "is its own security, for it makes no unwilling captive."
The look of hatred and rage which Lal Singh darted at him startled the onlookers.
"The worst of sorcerers," said he, "are those who disclaim the use of enchantment. Success in love, Atmâ Singh, means sometimes to die like a dog."
But the Nawab interposed with moderate speech. "It is," said he, "a wise man who knows the omens of the future, and is thereby guided."
"The services of a skilful necromancer are greatly needed at the present," whispered a courtier.
Many of the company were now standing, scanning with anxious gaze the distant horizon. They looked far a-field, but high overhead the robber looked down on them. There was the falcon mid-way between earth and sky. Now it began to sink. Swiftly it fell, and a cry escaped the lips of the few who observed it. The bird's keeper was off with the expedition, but as it reached the earth, a very few yards from the Rajah's circle, a dozen men were instantly upon it. Foremost was Atmâ Singh, his hand it was that grasped it. It was tired, and stood on his left wrist with anything but the air of a convicted thief, as with head bent sideways it inspected the throng. Atmâ strode forward to the Rajah, and a dismayed cry arose that the Sapphire was lost indeed. The bird no longer held it. Atmâ took no heed, but advancing made obeisance before Golab Singh, and extended to him his captive.
"Your clemency, Maharajah," he said, "for the truant."