As Iravati and her father entered the gallery where Salim was, he advanced to meet and greet her with his usual light-hearted courtesy. But suddenly all his boldness deserted him, and he stood still and silent. Such a noble bearing, mingled with so much modesty, beauty so grave, with an expression so winning and lovely, he never remembered to have seen in any other woman; and, contrary to his custom, he waited until Salhana had presented his daughter before greeting her.
“Noble lady,” he said, “I am indeed grateful to you for the trouble you have given yourself in coming to welcome your guest. I have heard of you more than once, and—” but the courteous phrase that trembled on his lips appeared too insipid and meaningless, and he continued—at the moment not being able to find any better speech—“It is indeed a pleasure to make your personal acquaintance.”
“The honour shown by your Highness to my father and to me, I prize highly,” answered Iravati; “and I trust you will not find our quiet town at Allahabad too dull in comparison with the capital, with its many pleasures and diversions.”
“If,” returned Salim, “the noble daughter of the Governor will sometimes give me the pleasure of her company, I need not fear that my sojourn in Allahabad will be tedious. But you speak of the capital; you know it, I hope?”
“I have never been in Agra,” was the answer.
“Never?” said Salim; “it is indeed time, my worthy Salhana, that your talented daughter should see more of the world than is possible in this remote fortress.”
“The time will come,” answered the Governor, “when my daughter is under the protection of her intended husband, my future son-in-law, whom your Highness has received with so much kindness.”
Whether this recollection did not please the Prince it was difficult to discover, but he at once became silent and knitted his dark eyebrows; and when he spoke again it was on quite another subject. The conversation continued for some time longer, and then Salhana gave his daughter leave to return to her own apartment, and with a deep reverence, Iravati took her leave, rejoicing that the interview was over. The only impression left on her mind by the Emperor’s son was the magnificence of his attire, although Salim himself only regarded it as a simple travelling costume.
A few minutes later, Salim, the Governor, and a third person were seated in one of the inner apartments of the fortress, well secured from all intruders or listeners, engaged, apparently, in consulting over more important questions than how time should best be spent at Allahabad. The third person was Gorakh, the priest of Durga.
“The good for which we strive, my friends,” began the Prince, “seems nearer; and it appears to me that it would be wise to consider the present state of affairs, and then to think what further preparations had better be made. You, Salhana, are, I believe, the best informed of us three; as for me, at the court much is suspected, and I come here in obedience to the wish, or rather the command, of my father. Abú-l Fazl—may Alla curse him!—is, I know, at the bottom of this; but I hope one day to have the opportunity of repaying him. And now for you, Salhana.”