"That could not be, for the Rajah is her brother."
The eyes of the Rajah sparkled when this remark was translated to him, and there could be no doubt that it gave him much pleasure, for it was a tacit recognition of his claim as a ruler, which the East India Company would never admit.
The host was a little more than thirty years of age, with sallow complexion, strong, coarse features, with head and face closely shaven after the fashion with all Mahrattas, and he was quite fat, his corpulence being the unhealthy bloat of the Eastern voluptuary.
In his distant home in Calcutta, Baird Avery had heard of the mutterings in the Bengal Presidency, caused by the spread of the report among the sepoys that the cartridges for their new Enfield rifles, furnished them by the British government, had been prepared with the grease of the hog, abominated by the Mussulmans, and that of the cow, the sacred animal of the Hindoos. He sought to draw out his host, who, he hoped, would speak the truth, since he had some grounds for complaint because of the treatment he had received from the East India Company.
"Is it true that among the sepoys and natives there is dissatisfaction with the rule of the Inglese?"
"They never knew happiness until you came across the ocean and ruled our country for us. We are happy and content."
This sounded like oriental exaggeration, but the speaker was the picture of sincerity when he spoke the words, which he immediately followed with the remark:
"Evil persons have spread reports among the sepoys which are all falsehoods."
The Rajah, who had caused his hookah to be filled and lighted, bowed his head several times by way of emphasizing his last remark.
"It gives me great happiness to hear the words of my beloved friend Maharajah, and our blessed Queen will be pleased to receive such assurances from her brother."