"Listen!" he continued, grasping the Meerza's arm. "What is that cry, so strange, and so early?"
"It is but one of the city beggars," said the King, looking across to his secretary with a peculiar glance of intelligence, "who perhaps has not slept off his night's potions. One of thine own disciples, perhaps, Huzrut."
"I will go and listen," said the secretary, rising; and he proceeded to the terrace where the morning prayer had been performed.
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!" arose in clear deep tones, now unchecked by the heavy quilted curtain of the royal chamber. It was a common form of cry of fakeers or other beggars; but there was something in the rough tone of the voice which seemed to strike familiarly upon the Meerza's ear.
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!"
The last cry was followed by a remonstrance from the soldiers below, who, belonging to the guard of the private apartments, had evidently stopped the intruder.
"Gently, O Syn," cried one; "what dost thou here so early? Do not bawl so loud, friend, else they will be awakened up yonder, and thou wilt be whipped and put in the stocks. Come and sit here, and rest thyself if thou wilt."
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!" was the only reply.
"Nay, but thou canst not enter here, Syn. This is the private court of the Hareem, and thou must be silent," continued the soldier.
"Ulla dilâyâ to léonga!"