“I have already met your nephew accidentally,” said Abdul Kadir, as Salhana was about to introduce him; “and I hope,” he continued to Siddha, “that you regard the words I then spoke in the sense I gave them, for you see now that persons are not hated by me, however much I combat the false doctrines they hold.”
“I honour your feelings, noble Sir,” said Siddha, “although I regret that you are not one with us; perhaps——”
“Perhaps what?” began Abdul Kadir, angrily.
“No, no, my friends,” interposed Salhana; “no disputes, I pray, over your different beliefs. Think rather of the grave dangers which threaten us all, we Hindus as well as you true sons of the Prophet, should the plans be carried out in true earnest that the higher powers now think of.”
Some others, apparently trusted acquaintances of Salhana and the Muhammadan, had joined the speakers, forming a thick ring around them, while Parviz and some young friends had gone to the other end of the hall.
“Let us consider,” continued Salhana, in a low but audible voice, “how we should bear ourselves should our otherwise honoured Emperor attempt, as is probable, to force upon us a religion alike abhorrent to our feelings, customs, and morals. Will you Muhammadans, the present rulers of the land, deny Allah, and kneel in adoration before the sun and stars, and perhaps——”
“By the beard of the Prophet,” began Abdul Kadir, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword, “we should——”
“Let that be as it may,” interrupted the other; “there are still worse things. Consider the words ‘Alláhu Akbar’[1] we now find on our coins and firmans; they are innocent enough if you understand them as ‘God is great,’ but far different if you read them in the sense of ‘Akbar is God.’”
“That goes indeed too far,” broke out Abdul Kadir, in bitter anger.
But Salhana again interposed.