"'You and he were very good friends, Chunda Das.'
"'Yes, and are still, so far as I am concerned,' I answered.
"'I thought so. Well, I am his friend likewise. Many years I have known him and his wife, Devaka. Both are good, kind people, always willing to help their neighbours, and ready to give their last bowl of rice to a vagrant beggar. Perhaps you can assist me to clear away the shadows that have fallen around them and obscured the sunshine of their home. Let me tell you the story. A few months ago a stranger came to this village. He was on his way to Fathpur-Sikri, to witness the glories of the court of the mighty Akbar. But on the road he had fallen ill, and, arriving here, was too sick to proceed. I am ashamed to say that none of us were willing to take him in, for sickness goes from one person to another. So we have to be careful, especially in my calling, where I come into such close contact with so many.
"'There was quite a little crowd just here by the tank, discussing the situation, the sick man in their midst resting upon the ground, when Baji Lal and his wife, who happened to be passing, came forward to see what the commotion was all about. They listened to the story, and then told the stranger he might come with them. He gratefully accepted, and, after whispering some instructions to a servant by whom he was accompanied, he motioned to Baji Lal to lead the way. The little group moved off, the servant in the rear, leading the horses, which included a pack animal laden with the traveller's bedding, cooking pots, and other belongings.
"'After unloading the baggage at Baji Lal's home, the servant, as we learned later in the day, had, in obedience to orders, straightway mounted his horse, and ridden away. He had exchanged no words with any of us.
"'For weeks Baji Lal and his wife attended to the wants of the invalid, until at last he was able to move about the village, and talk with one and another. From the first we had recognized the stranger as a man of distinction. Now we learned his name—Sheikh Ahmed, a Moslem, I need not say. But in these days of Akbar all religious feuds are to be set aside, this by direct command of the Emperor himself—blessed be his name and exalted his glory! So this follower of the prophet was made quite welcome among us, a community of Hindus.
"'Day by day the Sheikh regained his strength, and often would he come of an evening when the village folk gathered under this pipul tree, listening to the chit-chat going on, sometimes joining in the conversation. Soon he began to tell us stories of far lands, for he had travelled to many distant places, even outside of Hindustan, so we grew to like him, and to watch each evening for his coming.
"'But all of a sudden he disappeared from our midst. The day before he had been with us, sitting almost on the very spot where you are seated now. He did not say he was going away, nor even hint that he intended doing so. When Baji Lal was questioned, he said that the servant had returned during the night with saddle and pack horses, and that, after conferring with Sheikh Ahmed, had gathered together his master's belongings, and announced their immediate departure. Baji Lal had tried to persuade his guest to wait until daylight, but this advice was unheeded. The Sheikh promised, however, that he would come again to the village when he passed that way on his homeward journey.
"'At this time Baji Lal's story seemed a perfectly natural one, and the people only regretted that they had not had the opportunity of bidding the Sheikh farewell. Still the prospect of soon seeing him again softened this regretful feeling.
"'And now began the change in our friends. Baji Lal ceased to come to our village meetings, and Devaka shunned every woman, even her most intimate friends. For a while this strange behaviour did not attract special attention, although noted and commented on afterwards. For just a few days after Sheikh Ahmed had gone away the monsoon had burst, and the stormy weather would account for Baji Lal and his wife remaining much at home. But as time wore on, and their furtive ways grew more and more pronounced, people began to talk, and from talking they took to watching and spying. For, believe me, there is nothing so all-absorbing as for once respected and well-thought-of people to be under a cloud. We allow our imaginations to run riot, and our tongues do not rust for want of wagging.