Let me say, to begin with, that he was the smallest man I had encountered outside of a circus. He may have been four feet high, but I doubt it; his lean and weazened frame may have been as stout as that of an eight-year-old, but again I doubt it. The legs, thin as those of a paralytic, were little more than two dangling sticks; his arms were scarcely better developed; his head was bald, his mouth toothless, and his fingers without nails; his eyes were covered with instruments like binoculars, through which he could see only with difficulty; his ears were hidden by a mass of wires, and by black projections like telephone receivers; his nostrils were encased in rubber-like tubes, connecting with steel tanks which, as I later learned, contained oxygen; his mouth, likewise, was fitted with breathing tubes, which I saw him remove only in order to talk, which he did by means of a megaphone.
In other words, the poor creature seemed to have scarcely one of his natural faculties intact!
Yet, to judge from the way in which he was dressed, he was a personage of note. I shall spare the reader an account of his apparel, except to say that, unlike his fellows, he was robed not in black, but in resplendent green and saffron, with a purple crest upon his hairless pate, and with a string of huge rubies dangling about his neck. Personally, I did not care for the color scheme, but he himself was apparently well pleased with it, for all about him, in a gleaming circle, a row of large mirrors was displayed, and through these he was feasted with a constant view of himself and could catch every turn and nod and twist of his imperial countenance. Moreover, other mirrors, spaced at intervals about the room, caught the reflections of the ones nearest him and magnified them so that, in no matter what direction one looked, one was sure to catch the image of that green-and-saffron figure.
It was appropriate that throughout the greater part of the room, except for the reflection of the central dignitary, there should be nothing at all. But just around him, with a mincing and obsequious manner, twenty attendants stood in waiting on the sandstone platform; whenever he made a move or a gesture, were it only to smooth out his dress or scratch the back of his neck, at least half of them would rush up to serve him. I well remember their consternation on one occasion when their master, with the most undignified suddenness, bent forward and sneezed; for a moment, not knowing what was the trouble, I thought I was witnessing a riot as the twenty attendants, like one man, leapt forward to readjust the nose-tubes, which had been blown out of place.
All this I observed while my companions and I, on our hands and knees, crept up to the throne of the potentate. Why should the chalk-faces, absurd as they were, do reverence to such a monarch? I wondered, for I now had no doubt that this was their royal lord. But knowing that there is no accounting for political tastes, I dismissed the mystery as beyond solution; and, for the sake of good form, I remained crouching in a respectful attitude after we had finally halted twenty yards from the throne.
For half an hour we remained on all fours, miserably waiting—at least, I was miserable. During all this time the sovereign seemed to take no note at all of our existence, but remained seated in a sort of dreamy trance, as if brooding on the mystic bliss of Nirvana. Unfortunately, it was the rule among the chalk-faces that subjects could not speak until spoken to; hence we might have remained stooping there all day, and still not have gained an audience, had the dignitary not eventually caught sight of me and become interested.
So interested was he, in fact, that he rose from his seat and tottered to the edge of the platform—a distance of fully six feet, which he accomplished with the utmost difficulty, while three attendants supported him on each side. Then, for at least a minute, he stared at me intently through his binoculars until, exhausted from the effort, he had to be carried to his chair and fanned back to life again.
This process consumed at least ten minutes, during which we all had to remain in the same uncomfortable attitude. But at length the regal one, restored by the fanning of his servants and strengthened by hypodermic injections, was revived sufficiently to be able to speak through the megaphone which a slave lifted to his mouth. Of course, I did not know what he said, but the words were high-pitched and squeaky and rasped upon me like the edge of a file; but the effect was, at least, most welcome, for all of us, with sighs of relief, were able to rise to our feet.
Now Professor Tan Trum, after a flourish and a low bow, waved my notebook high in the air for all to see and launched forth into speech. And what a speech it was. The words seemed to trip and fall over one another, as they came out in a rattling torrent; many minutes went by with scarcely a pause for breath, while all the other chalk-faces made scarcely an effort to conceal their yawns. At last even the monarch, apparently, could endure it no longer; he lifted his arm in a gesture of command, motioned for the megaphone, and snapped out two short words—which instantly put an end to Tan Trum's discourse.