He was keen-witted enough to see the effect of his words, and he laid his hand on my arm.
“It is not this I mind,” he said quietly. “I do not judge one by his dress. I know you; but I want to see my friend, who is henceforth to be a great chief, held in reverence by the people. My subjects are not like your English, who care so little for show; they judge a man by his appearance.”
“Yes; I know that,” I said, warming toward him, for his words were kindly meant.
“I don’t care for all these that I wear. They are tiresome, hot, and in the way. But I am the maharajah, and if I did not impress my subjects by my dress and grandeur, as well as by the strength of my arm and the sharpness of my sword, they would despise me.”
“I can quite understand that,” I said eagerly; for I was anxious to keep him conversing about everything but the one subject which I feared.
“Well,” he said gravely, “have you no questions to ask—about your fellow-countrymen?”
“No,” I said.
“That is right. I am glad you are growing so wise and sensible. It is useless to regret the past. They had their reign. They are conquered, and all is at an end.”
I crushed the paper in my pocket with almost feverish joy.
“And now,” he continued, “I hope that a brighter and better day is rising for my land.”