“Excuse me, my lord,” was the answer, “if I withhold her name for the present; doubtless she will herself enlighten you, if you honour her with a visit, and, if you will, she expects you this evening. Come at about ten, by that mosque.” And she pointed to a beautiful building on a height, whose gilded cupolas and marble minarets were sparkling in the sunshine.
Siddha hesitated and sought for an answer. An adventure—and he thought of Iravati. A plot—and he remembered the warning of Abú-l Fazl.
“Well?” asked the maid, mockingly. “A soldier like you, and not know what to do when an illustrious lady asks for a short conversation! You are not afraid, I hope.”
“Afraid!” cried Siddha, while a flush of anger mounted to his face. “What gives you the right—but,” continued he, restraining himself, “my irresolution may appear strange, but the reasons are no concern of yours. Meet me at the appointed time at the mosque.”
“It is well,” replied the woman; and greeting him, she returned the way she had come.
For a moment Siddha thought of attempting to follow her unseen, and so to discover with whom he had to do; but a moment’s consideration convinced him she certainly would be on her guard. Dissatisfied with the whole affair, and with himself, he continued his walk, and soon reached the garden.
Rich and magnificent as it was, there was more to fatigue than satisfy the eye. Straight paths, one resembling another, paved with smooth polished stones, were shaded by trees; and there were tanks bordered with marble, from the centres of which fountains of various forms arose. The groups of trees in all directions threw thick, cool shade, inviting the passers-by to repose. After having wandered for some time without meeting any one, Siddha saw a middle-aged and powerfully-built man seated under the shade of one of these trees. There was something in the man’s appearance that immediately excited his attention, though he could scarcely have given a reason. The stranger was distinguished from the courtiers he had met, by something that words can hardly convey. The expression of his face, closely shaven, like others, was calm and frank; neither handsome nor the contrary, his attire was rich yet simple; and excepting the elaborately worked hilt of his sword, his only ornament was a diamond of extraordinary size that glittered in the folds of his turban. But what neither ornaments nor beauty of feature could give, was the peculiar expression and bearing that Siddha had remarked in Gurupada the hermit, but which was still more marked in this man, and bespoke him a ruler. Still, in the unknown he did not suspect more than a courtier or a great warrior attached to some prince who was in attendance at Akbar’s court. With a silent greeting he was about to pass by, when the stranger addressed him by name, and without rising or further introduction, asked if he had made acquaintance with his Rajputs. Somewhat surprised that everyone should know who he was, Siddha replied in the affirmative, and the other proceeded in explanation.
“By the heron’s feathers I recognised your rank, and knowing all your fellow-officers personally, and knowing also that you were expected to take up your appointment, I had no difficulty in guessing who you were. And how do you like your appointment? Sit down by me.”
“I should indeed be ungrateful,” said Siddha, accepting the invitation, which sounded more like a command, and scarcely noticing that the stranger treated him as an inferior,—“I should indeed be ungrateful to my benefactor and the Emperor if I did not highly prize the noble occupation in which they have placed me.”
“The Emperor!” repeated the other; “well, yes. But tell me, do you come to serve him, or simply to enjoy the privileges that your rank gives you at his court?”