But enough.  On mere description of the Emperor’s palace a thousand pages of my narrative could be worthily expended.  Let it suffice that here we knew power in all its material expression.  Only a civilization deep and wide and old and strong could produce this far-walled, many-gabled roof of kings.

To no audience-hall were we sea-cunies led, but, as we took it, to a feasting-hall.  The feasting was at its end, and all the throng was in a merry mood.  And such a throng!  High dignitaries, princes of the blood, sworded nobles, pale priests, weather-tanned officers of high command, court ladies with faces exposed, painted ki-sang or dancing girls who rested from entertaining, and duennas, waiting women, eunuchs, lackeys, and palace slaves a myriad of them.

All fell away from us, however, when the Emperor, with a following of intimates, advanced to look us over.  He was a merry monarch, especially so for an Asiatic.  Not more than forty, with a clear, pallid skin that had never known the sun, he was paunched and weak-legged.  Yet he had once been a fine man.  The noble forehead attested that.  But the eyes were bleared and weak-lidded, the lips twitching and trembling from the various excesses in which he indulged, which excesses, as I was to learn, were largely devised and pandered by Yunsan, the Buddhist priest, of whom more anon.

In our sea-garments we mariners were a motley crew, and motley was the cue of our reception.  Exclamations of wonder at our strangeness gave way to laughter.  The ki-sang invaded us, dragging us about, making prisoners of us, two or three of them to one of us, leading us about like go many dancing boars and putting us through our antics.  It was offensive, true, but what could poor sea-cunies do?  What could old Johannes Maartens do, with a bevy of laughing girls about him, tweaking his nose, pinching his arms, tickling his ribs till he pranced?  To escape such torment Hans Amden cleared a space and gave a clumsy-footed Hollandish breakdown till all the Court roared its laughter.

It was offensive to me who had been equal and boon companion of Kim for many days.  I resisted the laughing ki-sang.  I braced my legs and stood upright with folded arms; nor could pinch or tickle bring a quiver from me.  Thus they abandoned me for easier prey.

“For God’s sake, man, make an impression,” Hendrik Hamel, who had struggled to me with three ki-sang dragging behind, mumbled.

Well might he mumble, for whenever he opened his mouth to speak they crammed it with sweets.

“Save us from this folly,” he persisted, ducking his head about to avoid their sweet-filled palms.  “We must have dignity, understand, dignity.  This will ruin us.  They are making tame animals of us, playthings.  When they grow tired of us they will throw us out.  You’re doing the right thing.  Stick to it.  Stand them off.  Command respect, respect for all of us—­”