Prasad's ill humor was plainly marked in his meagre appetite. Savory dishes, of which he would, under ordinary circumstances, have partaken with avidity, he barely tasted. Others, he let pass without even inserting his fingers to test their quality.
"Come," cried Ahmad, at the conclusion of the banquet, "thou shalt now drink of the choicest of the Giours' spirits. I warrant that after the first cup thy peace of mind will be restored. Thou wilt forget past disappointments in the happiness of the present."
Wine for Prasad's benefit, and coffee for the Mohammedan were then served. Hookahs were set before them and lit by obsequious servants.
Prasad cast restraint to the winds and drank deeply, while his companion watched him craftily, encouraging his libations. But the insidious spirits of the Foreigners, looted from their bungalows, only served to intensify his dejection.
"Accursed life," he muttered. "What am I, that I should submit so tamely to the fickle humor of the Rani"?
"Patience, good friend, a little patience," returned Ahmad assuagingly, yet with an added sting.
"Dost Ali is but a passing fancy. Forget him in the pleasure of the moment. Drink, and thou wilt surely feel a new man before the Mollah's voice at sunrise, calls the Faithful to their devotions."
He raised his hand as a signal to an attendant, a heavy curtain was drawn back and a group of musicians, accompanied by dancing girls arrayed in yards upon yards of silken drapery, entered the apartment. They advanced to the divan upon which the two nobles sat languidly drawing from their hookahs and salaamed deferentially. The musicians then seated themselves in a half circle in front of the divan, while the girls awaited the first bars from the instruments. Presently an inspiring air rose in the chamber, the girls assumed individual poses, and the natch commenced.
Their graceful actions, glancing steps, and sensuous attitudes, frequently called forth words of praise from the Mohammedan; but Prasad's gloomy thoughts remained unconquered.