“And hast thou never put thy stone to the test? Hast never loved?” inquired Ragunáth, with a faintly curling smile.
“No,” answered Fidá, shortly. But the Rajah broke in:
“By Surya, ’tis a tale worth the price of the gem! Take it, Asra; and I think it were well for thee to keep it idle while thou remainest in this palace.”
Fidá gave a little, imperceptible start, and stared quickly into his conqueror’s face. There was nothing to be read in it; and surely it was impossible that the words could have had any under-meaning. Greatly relieved at receiving back his treasure, the Asra replaced it in its box, which he fastened again in his garment. As he did this he was aware that Ragunáth’s eyes were still upon him; but Ragunáth’s glances had annoyed him so often, that he failed especially to note this. He had recovered his jewel; and now the meal was coming to an end and for an hour he would be released from duty.
When he was again summoned to the Rajah’s side, it was in the great audience hall, where Rai-Khizar-Pál officiated in his judicial state. The Mohammedan was not a little interested in the proceedings of the long morning; and his respect for the ability of his master increased not a little as he watched him settle, one after another, with ease, rapidity, and remarkable insight, the great number of quarrels and suits brought before him by his subjects. At the second hour after noon, however, the court rose, and those natives whose cases had not come up that day were told to return on the morrow; whereupon they got up, without comment, from where they had been sitting in rows around the wall, and departed to their various pursuits. The Rajah, accompanied by Manava, retired to eat his second meal, which Fidá served. When it was over, he stood waiting to be dismissed; for it was the time of day when Rai-Khizar usually slept and the slave was accustomed to enjoy a period of idleness. Left alone with the captive, however, the King turned to him, and, after a few moments’ consideration, said gravely:
“Asra, I have said that I would not ransom thee; liking too well thy presence and thy service. Yet this I have in my heart reconsidered until, though I shall grieve to let thee go, I am willing to send envoys to thy uncle to treat for thy ransom. Doth this rejoice thee?”
Fidá fell upon one knee and pressed the Rajah’s hand to his head. “Thanks to my lord!” said he, in a voice muffled with emotion.
“Ah, thou’lt be glad to be in thine own estate again! I send the envoys forth to-day. It should be not more than three weeks ere thy freedom cometh. On my life, I shall be loath to part with thee. But now I can keep thee no longer in this servant’s garb. Thou shalt be habited like a prince again, and wait here, my guest, till thou goest forth.”
“Let the King pardon my boldness. What is the ransom thou wouldst free me for?”
“Far less than thou art worth, my Asra: five thousand pieces of copper, jewels to the worth of an hundred cows, and the oath that the Rajah of Mandu and the mighty Aybek of Delhi be henceforth as brothers.”