“Abdul Kadir,”[4] said the stranger, more to himself than to Siddha, while a dark cloud crossed his countenance. Notwithstanding, he greeted the new comer with courtesy, at the same time making him a sign that he wished to remain unknown.
With a defiant glance Abdul Kadir looked at Siddha, who had stepped on one side, from head to foot, and then turned his back on him, without saying a word. That the blood rose to the cheeks of our Indian nobleman at such treatment was not surprising; but as he was about to demand an explanation of the insult, the stranger restrained him, and said, “Do not, noble Siddha, allow the treatment of my friend here to arouse your anger. It is not personally meant, of that I am sure; but he cannot bear the sight of you Hindus, as he imagines that you damage his faith. Is it not so?” he asked, turning to Abdul Kadir.
“You are right,” he answered. “I have, indeed, no personal enmity to you, young man,” he continued, turning to Siddha. “I do not know you, but to fight and strive against you, root and branch, is to me a holy duty; and I do strive against you, and hate you with an irreconcilable hatred. Still, as men, there are many among you whom I respect and honour. You injure our faith, and even make the Emperor himself averse to it. You deny Allah and mock His Prophet, and seek to drive us, the faithful, away, and to become masters of offices and employments, that you may put your false gods and false doctrines in the place of the God without whom there is no god, and of those who, in truth, acknowledge Him. Therefore, and for that reason alone, I hate you and yours, and will strive against you and yours till the death. You are either atheists or idolaters; in either case you lead the people astray, and tempt the prince. Enough that you are nothing but unbelieving——”
A severe, penetrating glance from the stranger held back on the lips of the speaker the word that was about to follow. Had it been spoken, Siddha, in spite of all his endeavours, would scarcely have been able to restrain his anger.
“Unbelieving, then,” continued Abdul Kadir; “and that for a true son of the Prophet is more than enough. But what can it concern you, if I, who here have nothing to say, nor am of the slightest importance, am not one with your race? The favour of the Emperor is assured to you, who can and does do anything as it best pleases him. He has freed you from the burthen justly laid on you by the true believers for your denial of the true faith. He calls you to all employments, places you at the head of his armies, chooses amongst you his councillors and friends. What would you have more? Leave me, then, leave us, our just wrath. We cannot harm you; but it may be that the anger of heaven will one day fall on your heads, and perhaps on his, also, who showered favours on you, instead of chastising you with the rod and the sword, which for this purpose Allah himself placed in his hand.”
“It appears to me,” coldly said the stranger, after this hot outbreak, “it appears to me that our conversation so carried on is neither profitable nor agreeable. Doubtless, friend Siddha, you have more to say in reply to Abdul Kadir, and I myself am far from agreeing with him. But if I do not mistake, this time he sought us not for the sake of a fruitless dispute, but to talk over an important affair, and on this I will willingly listen to him. Excuse me, therefore, if for the present I say farewell, hoping that we may meet again before long. Abdul Kadir,” he said, as with a respectful greeting Siddha took his leave, “what do you want with me?”
“Sire,” was the answer,—for it was indeed Akbar himself with whom Siddha had been conversing,—“my duty as a subject as well as a friend, though one of little importance, obliges me to seek your Majesty.”
“I know it,” interrupted Akbar; “you are not self-seeking, you care not for protection or favours. And yet I would that you did; then, perhaps, I might be able to content you, in which now I seldom or never succeed. But I suspect that it is on religious subjects you wish to speak to me. The exaggerated words you have just used have told me what was coming; at any rate, be so good as to use a little moderation.”
“In truth,” answered Abdul Kadir, “the faith, the one pure, true faith, is what now leads me here. For that I request a few minutes’ conversation,—and,” continued he, with a stern look, “earnest and grave conversation.”
“I will do my best,” replied Akbar, courteously; “and will promise not to laugh, if you will keep within bounds.”