The perplexity of the good man was not without cause. The day the king removed to the palace of Axaya’, the royal hospitality went with him, and had thenceforth been administered there; but though no less princely and profuse than before, under the new régime it was overshadowed by the presence of the strangers, and for that reason became distasteful to the titled personages accustomed to its enjoyment. Consequently, owners of palaces in the city betook themselves to their own boards; others, especially non-residents, quartered with the Chalcan; as a further result, his house assumed the style of a meson, with accommodations equal to those of the palace; such, at least, was the disloyal whisper, and I am sorry to say Xoli did not repudiate the impeachment as became a lover of the king. And such eating, drinking, playing, such conspiring and plotting, such political discussion, such transactions in brokerage went on daily and nightly under his roof as were never before known. Now all this was broken off. The silence was not more frightful than unprofitable.
“Steward, steward!” said Xoli to that functionary, distinguished by the surpassing whiteness of his apron. “What has befallen? Where are the patrons this morning?”
“Good master, the most your slave knows is, that last night a paba from the great temple passed through the chambers, after which, very shortly, every guest departed.”
“A paba, a paba!” And Xoli was more than ever perplexed. “Heard you what he said?”
“Not a word.”
“About what time did he come?”
“After midnight.”
“And that is all you know?”
The steward bowed, and Xoli passed distractedly to the front door, only to find the portico as deserted as the chambers. Sight of the people beginning to collect in the square, however, brought him some relief, and he hailed the first passing acquaintance.
“A pleasant morning to you, neighbor.”