“Will my lord have food?” said Salaman, humbly.
“Not yet. Wait,” I replied; and I continued my inspection of my prison, for such it was to me, admiring most of all the curtains, which were of rich soft fabric, and Salaman smiled as he saw me pass them through my hand.
“Beautiful!” I said to myself, and I felt in better spirits, for I saw those curtains cut down, slit up, twisted and knotted together, with one end secured to the side of a window ready for me to slide down the night I made my escape.
“That’s step the first,” I said to myself; and then I looked hard at the two servants standing with folded arms motionless as bronze statues.
They were, as I have said, dressed in white, and I saw now, as I examined them more closely, that the stuff was white muslin, both robe and turban, the latter being ornamented with a fine cord of gold twist.
They were not very different to scores of men of their class, such as I had seen in good houses at Calcutta, or at the messes of the regiments where I had dined, but they attracted me greatly now, and my eyes rested searchingly on their brown faces, thick beards, bare legs, and feet partly hidden by red slippers.
It was a neat, becoming dress, and I kept up my scrutiny, noting everything, including, of course, the cummerbund or broad cotton scarf or belt about the men’s waists.
As for them, they did not even raise their eyes, but stood gazing down at the floor while I made a mental picture of their appearance, and oddly enough, I began thinking about walnuts, and wishing I had some.
A curious wish, you will say, for a prisoner who had only to give the word, and a delicious breakfast would be placed before him, with curries and fruits, and sweets with his coffee.
But I did not want any of them; I wanted walnuts.