“Let the sahib stretch his patience to a length of three more days, and Prabu’s promise shall be fulfilled.”
“Three days!” repeated Martin, bitterly, “why not to-morrow?”
“It cannot be: to-morrow the Prince and the envoy attend a great tiger-hunt.”
“Then she is in the power of this Prince?”
“I said not so, Sahib; but rest content—my words have gone forth, and shall not prove idle wind. In the meanwhile, know that she is well cared for and happy.”
This information was good, but it was tantalizing, and filled us with anxiety—an anxiety, indeed, that would have been unbearable had we not possessed such entire confidence in the integrity of Prabu. Then the latter, guessing our thoughts and feelings, said,—
“The sahib Martin longs to join in a tiger-hunt. Treachery disappointed him in Bali. He shall go with the hunters to-morrow.”
“Bother! my mind is occupied with other things,” was the surly reply. But the next minute he said: “What must be, must, and I suppose I must go. You go, of course, Claud, for it will at least serve to divert our thoughts.”
And to this I consented, although such scenes have no attraction for me.