They were sent, as he was informed, in answer to his message, and the Rajah, in the usual extravagant language of the Orient, begged the favor of the gentlemen's company at the palace in the evening, when the air would be cool.
Left to himself, Avery spent the hours in looking over the grounds, while the palanquin bearers, having traveled all night, withdrew to cook their food for the morning meal, after which they passed the time in smoking their hookahs and in sleep. These fellows with their scant clothing and bronzed skins could have withstood the fervor of the Asiatic sun for hours when a European would have succumbed in a few minutes.
Just as the sun was setting, a gaudily caparisoned elephant, crowned with a towering howdah (the ordinary box-like saddle) swung down the avenue to the Commissioner's house, and Avery climbed to the seat by means of a small ladder. He was then borne through a score of bazars and native streets to the house of the Rajah, who was seated upon a charpoy or native bedstead made of wood, with feet highly gilded. His dress was of white muslin, consisting of two coats of that material and a drapery of muslin with a fanciful border. His turban was of the same light fabric, through which golden thread was interwoven.
The instant the Rajah caught sight of his visitor, he extended his hand. Avery made a graceful salaam, and felt a thrill of genuine regard for the barbarian, whose coppery face seemed to glow with delight because of his visit. Since the Rajah spoke only Hindustani he was obliged to employ his moonshee.
"Rajah sahib salaam. Ap ka mizay kaisa hai?" (Peace to you, honorable sir. How is your temper today?)
"I have hastened hither," was the response of the guest. "I have come a long way to grasp your hand."
The Rajah smiled when Avery uttered the sentences I have given in pure Hindustani, but since they included about all that the young gentleman understood of that language, the services of the moonshee were not cast aside.
"Will not my brother live with me always?" asked the host; "then the tears shall never come to my eyes."
"Great would be my happiness could I do so," replied Avery, who felt no compunctions in drawing the long bow; "but my Queen will not permit me to accept your gracious hospitality."
"Your Queen is the greatest and best of earth; I love her and her children, the Inglese. 'Twould be my heart's delight to be their servant all my life."