Many of the Raja’s subjects were jealous of Dhairya-Sila, and constantly brought accusations against him, of none of which his master took any notice, except to punish those who tried to set him against his favourite.  It really seemed as if nothing would ever bring harm to Dhairya-Sila; but he often told his wife that such good fortune was not likely to last, and that she must be prepared for a change before long.

It turned out that he was right.  For one day Surya Pratap ordered him to do what he considered would be a shameful deed.  He refused; telling his master that he was wrong to think of such a thing, and entreating him to give up his purpose.  “All your life long,” he said, “you will wish you had listened to me; for your conscience will never let you rest!”

On hearing these brave words, Surya Pratap flew into a terrible rage, summoned his guards, and ordered them to take Dhairya-Sila outside the city to a very lofty tower, and leave him at the top of it, without shelter from the sun and with nothing to eat or drink.  The guards were at first afraid to touch the vizier, remembering how others had been punished for only speaking against him.  Seeing their unwillingness, the Raja got more and more angry; but Dhairya-Sila himself kept quite calm, and said to the soldiers: 

“I go with you gladly.  It is for the master to command and for me to obey.”

1.  What is the best way to learn to keep calm in an emergency?

2.  Why does too much power have a bad influence on those who have it?

CHAPTER II

The guards were relieved to find they need not drag the vizier away; for they admired his courage and felt sure that the Raja would soon find he could not get on without him.  It might go hardly with them if he suffered harm at their hands.  So they only closed in about him; and holding himself very upright, Dhairya-Sila walked to the tower as if he were quite glad to go.  In his heart however he knew full well that it would need all his skill to escape with his life.

When her husband did not come home at night, Buddhi-Mati was very much distressed.  She guessed at once that something had gone wrong, and set forth to try and find out what had happened.  This was easy enough; for as she crept along, with her veil closely held about her lest she should be recognised, she passed groups of people discussing the terrible fate that had befallen the favourite.  She decided that she must wait until midnight, when the streets would be deserted and she could reach the tower unnoticed.  It was almost dark when she got there, but in the dim light of the stars she made out the form of him she loved better than herself, leaning over the edge of the railing at the top.

“Is my dear lord still alive?” she whispered, “and is there anything I can do to help him?”