“Some one to see you, sir.”
I sat up, and discovered a native lad with him. His loose dress of blouse, trousers, and straw hat was of the commonest material. He was as unlike the native men as I had observed the fan-bearer to be, but his manner was shy and timid, lacking the careless defiance of hers. With a finger on his lips he beckoned us to follow him.
In a secluded spot a little distance away, we sat down. My first surprise was when he began to talk. In a musical voice, he groped for words that I could understand, and in that way used a polyglot language, some words badly pronounced, and others spoken with surprising correctness.
First, he enjoined secrecy, for should the king learn that he had come——The lad finished with a grimace, and a swipe of the hand across his throat. He made me pledge the sun to burn me up, the moon to strike me a stark lunatic, and the stars to pierce me with their lances, should I betray his confidence,—all this solemnly, but with a twinkle in the back of his eye.
Second, he was Beelo, brother of the king’s fanbearer, Lentala, a good girl in a way, but——A droll shake of his head left her in the air. Lentala and he were protégés of the king and queen, and enjoyed uncommon privileges, having been members of the king’s household since childhood. The queen was very sweet and gentle, and they were fond of her. She had no children of her own.
And, third, Lentala wished Beelo to come surreptitiously to me in order to learn English. She had a special reason for that. Neither the king nor any of the other natives must know. That was all. Would I teach him, that he in turn might instruct her?
Our conversation, carried on in a mixture of languages, must be here given in English.
“Indeed, I will, and gladly, Beelo!” I exclaimed; “but why not bring Lentala, that I may teach you together?” I seized his hand in my joy of this heavensent opportunity. It was a small, delicate hand.
“She can’t come,” he answered.
“Why not?”