“Certainly,” was the reply; “and I hope to be able to answer it frankly.”
“Well, then, when we spoke of Abú-l Fazl, a warning he gave me this morning crossed my mind. He warned me against treachery that here surrounds the Emperor. Do you, whose opinion is of such great weight, believe that there can be people here so foolish and so criminal as to league themselves against so great and beneficent a prince as Akbar; can it really be?”
“Oh!” cried Faizi; “my brother sees treachery everywhere; but after all, that is but natural to a Minister, and still more to the first, the great Wazir. However, you may make yourself easy; people here are not so base, nor are they so foolish, as to engage in a game in which their heads are the stakes, and the chances ten to one against them.”
“Faizi,” said Kulluka, gravely and half reproachfully, “your hopeful views prove your good heart; but do you not think that they may be sometimes dangerous to young people, and lead them, as for example might be the case with our inexperienced friend here, into imprudence?”
“I do not see that he is inclined to want of caution,” was the reply; “and I only mean that it is better that he should not begin with his head full of imaginations of court and state intrigues, but enter life with confidence and courage. We all began so, and dangers never harmed us. If he begins with too much suspicion, he will end by trusting no one, not even my brother or myself.”
“That could never be,” cried Siddha, quickly, as he looked confidently into Faizi’s friendly face. “As little as I could ever suspect secret enmity from you, so little could you expect faithlessness and treachery from one who prizes your friendship and good opinion as highly as I do.”
“Remember what you have said,” Kulluka remarked, gravely; “and think, too, that no one has the power of foreseeing all the events and circumstances that may end in influencing him, short-sighted as he is, to give up his free will.”
“See,” said Faizi, in his usual joyous tone, “here we are again in philosophy. You know well it is my favourite subject, although I have not made so much progress in it as Kulluka maintains. Let us call for lights—night begins to close in—and we will have some discussion touching Sankhya and Vedanta,[8] in which he is so strong. What a pity that we cannot ask Akbar to join us! he finds more pleasure in the driest philosophical discussion than in the most sparkling banquets.”
“Nothing should I like better, honoured Faizi,” answered Kulluka, “than to pass an hour with you deep in such subjects, as in past days; but now I am afraid we must go, Siddha must take over his command early to-morrow morning, and I have much to settle to-night in readiness for my departure, which is fixed for the day after to-morrow. Will you, then, excuse us if we take our leave, and thank you for your reception—as kind and friendly as ever it was in days gone by?”
“Indeed I will excuse you, my worthy friend,” answered Faizi, as he called to a servant to show them out. “Siddha,” he said, as he took leave, “we were speaking of imprudences; be on your guard against them. But a young man like you may happen to fall into them as well at your court as at ours; and if you ever find yourself in any difficulty, come straight to Faizi, who may be able to keep you out of the fire.” And without waiting for either answer or thanks, he turned back to his own apartments.