They had crossed the Maidan, a wilderness of burnt-up grass, where the native troops, whose huts could be seen as a low, white line in the distance, were drilled and trained under their European officers. They were coming now upon a road, on either side of which the bungalows of the English military and civil officers, with the humbler dwelling-places of Eurasian and European clerks and mechanics, were scattered.
Here Tom drew up and waited for Hoosanee, who was some distance behind him. The gallop over the Maidan had satisfied Snow-queen for the moment, and she stood perfectly still, while her master, stroking her glossy neck caressingly, looked out before him.
It was very early indeed. The sun had not yet leapt over the rim of the vast plain; but the eastern heavens were glowing like a furnace, and from the dreadful zenith star after star was fading out. Beneath the sky the plain, with its villages and groves and burnt-up fields, and multitudes of freshly-kindled morning fires, round which, like busy ants, the people clustered, lay outstretched mysteriously. Not the Elysian fields themselves could have been more peaceful than this early morning scene.
Hoosanee came up, and they cantered quietly along the pleasantly shaded road that led through the European quarter. Early as it was there were many stirring. Slender, pale-faced English children, dressed in white blouses, were mounted on ponies led by dignified Indian servants. Several ladies were riding and driving, and from the bungalow-gardens came sounds of laughter and chattering, as little groups gathered round spread tables under the trees to enjoy the freshness of the morning.
Tom was looking out on this absently, his heart full of the wistful longing, which always possessed him when he saw English faces and heard the English speech, to mix with his compatriots as one of themselves, when a small face, which had been for some moments looking up into his face with questioning eagerness, detached itself from the multitude of confused impressions about him. He looked down and saw as quaint and pretty a group as it would be possible to imagine. The child, who had been looking up at him—a little girl dressed like a fairy in blue and silver—formed the centre of the group. A ridiculously small pony, decked out in gay trappings, and led by a smart little Indian groom, carried the child, and an ayah, swathed in spotless white, walked beside her.
'Why,' said Tom, pulling up, 'it is Aglaia!'
At the sound of his voice, the child, whose little face had been looking troubled, clapped her hands and laughed; and Tom, feeling quite unable to preserve his character of Oriental passivity, leapt to the ground, and caught her in his arms.
The ayah, who had taken him for an Indian of rank, looked at him in the utmost bewilderment; but her attention was happily diverted, for Hoosanee, too, had leapt from his horse and he was looking at her with a curious fixity. No sooner had she seen him fully than she broke into a little cry of 'Hoosanee! How did you come here?'
Tom looked back. 'Your Excellency,' said the man, his dark face glowing, 'the young woman is my sister Sumbaten!'
'Why,' said Tom, 'this is quite a romance. And where do you and Sumbaten live, Aglaia?' The child pointed with her small forefinger to a small building on the outskirt of the Maidan, which looked more like a tomb than a house. She was clamorous that Tom should go home with her at once. 'I've such lots of things to show you,' she said. 'Three new dollies, and a tea-set, and a sweet little bird. Then there's my dada—you haven't seen my dada yet, have you?'