“Certainly,” replied Faizi; “but as to this constant reference to authority and revelation, is it not natural and unavoidable in those who, not content with the lessons of experience and reason, seek the solution of the enigma of life in their own imaginations? If they are shown the groundlessness or senselessness of their propositions, what remains to them but to take refuge in the authority of a revelation declared and handed down to them by their forefathers? But it is singular that contradiction so seldom leads to the study and criticism of their own doctrines; were it to do so, they would soon become aware of the vanity of their theories. Proudly and defiantly the towers and pinnacles of their temple rise into the clouds, but examination would show them that the foundations are laid in the shifting sands of phantasy.”
For some moments after Faizi ceased to speak Akbar was silent; on resuming the conversation, he said—
“I believe you are right, Faizi; still I have a sympathy with the people you reproach. And it may be that in some moment of enthusiasm and poetical imagination we may be carried away to the discovery of truth that we shall afterwards find to be supported by reason and knowledge. But for the present no more of this; we have other things to attend to, and presently I expect Abú-l Fazl, who has some important communication to make.”
On a subsequent evening another interview took place at Agra, which had nothing in common with that just described, except that it also was hidden from indiscreet eyes and ears.
After his first interview with Rezia, Siddha had more than once sought for the servant who had guided him to her dwelling. At last he met her in the neighbourhood of the imperial gardens, and received anew from her an invitation to visit her mistress, which he hastened to accept. Since then the visits had been repeated, following one upon another, until at last the day that passed without Siddha sitting beside Rezia in the verandah appeared to him empty and void. All that Agra had to offer him of beauty and pleasure; however great the delight he took in the favour of Abú-l Fazl, and, later, in that of the Emperor himself; or the pleasure of conversation with Faizi, whose house was always open to him, and who treated him as a trusted friend; or the amusement he found in the society of Parviz and that of his joyous comrades; all sank to nothing in comparison with the quiet dwelling of the lonely Armenian. That the image of Iravati retired more and more into the background was not strange, nor that Rezia speedily became to him more than a pleasant, entertaining acquaintance; nor was she herself entirely insensible to the unconcealed homage of the young chief. A feeling of terror had overcome him when he first made the discovery that, instead of loving her as a dear friend, his feelings for her had in them a depth and passion that until that moment he had never known; but he had soon become accustomed to this thought, and from that moment only one desire was master of his soul, that of calling her his, and knowing that his love was returned.
On a certain evening Siddha was again seated on a divan beside his fascinating hostess; before them was a low table decked with fresh fruits and sparkling wine in golden drinking-cups. She seemed lovelier than ever to him, deeper than ever the expression of her soft blue eyes, that now full of tenderness, and now with an indescribable fire, gazed up at him, and then again were hidden under the shadow of long, silken eyelashes. The scent of roses and jasmine filled the air, and moonlight, almost as bright as day, fell on the verandah, and silvered the groups of trees and fountains in the garden.
“Siddha,” said Rezia, with sudden gravity, interrupting their gay, laughing conversation, “you once did me a great service in undertaking that my letter should safely reach Kashmir; can I now ask of you a second, which, I tell you beforehand, may be of more consequence to yourself?”
“Command, and I obey,” said Siddha, without hesitation; “whatever you may desire, do not doubt but that I will endeavour to fulfil it.”
“Prudence, my friend,” said Rezia, playfully lifting up her finger; “you are committing yourself before you know what I require; and you do this because, from your high rank and assured position at court, you think you can look down on what a simple woman like me can wish, and assume that the question is only how some one of my whims may be gratified; but in this you may be mistaken.”
“I swear to you,” was the impetuous answer, “no such thought crossed my mind. Now, then, demand what you will, and I obey your commands.”