Then for some reason the fear went out of Sonny Sahib.  ’Am I not going with you, Tooni-ji?’ said he, which was his way of saying ‘dear Tooni.’  ’There is no cause for fear.  And will it not be very beautiful, the palace of the Maharajah?  Sumpsi Din says that it is built of gold and silver.  And now I should like six chupatties, and some milk and some fried brinjal, like yesterday’s, only more, Tooni-ji.’

CHAPTER IV

The palace of the Maharajah at Lalpore was not exactly built of gold and silver; but if it had been, Sonny Sahib could hardly have thought it a finer place.  It had a wall all round it, even on the side where the river ran, and inside the wall were courts and gardens with fountains and roses in them, divided by other walls, and pillared verandahs, where little green lizards ran about in the sun, and a great many stables, where the Maharajah’s horses pawed and champed to be let out and ridden.  The palace itself was a whole story higher than the stables, and consisted of a wilderness of little halls with grated windows.  It smelt rather too strong of attar of roses in there—­the Maharajah was fond of attar of roses—­ but the decorations on the whitewashed walls, in red and yellow, were very wonderful indeed.  The courtyards and the verandahs were full of people, soldiers, syces, merchants with their packs, sweetmeat sellers, barbers; only the gardens were empty.  Sonny Sahib thought that if he lived in the palace he would stay always in the gardens, watching the red-spotted fish in the fountains, and gathering the roses; but the people who did live there seemed to prefer smoking long bubbling pipes in company, or disputing over their bargains, or sleeping by the hour in the shade of the courtyard walls.  There were no women anywhere; but if Sonny Sahib had possessed the ears or the eyes of the country, he might have heard many swishings and patterings and whisperings behind curtained doors, and have seen many fingers on the curtains’ edge and eyes at the barred windows as he went by.

This was the palace, and the palace was the crown of Lalpore, which was built on the top of a hill, and could lock itself in behind walls ten feet thick all round, if an enemy came that way.

The Maharajah was to receive them in one of the pillared verandahs, one that looked out over the river, where there was a single great ivory chair, with a red satin cushion, and a large piece of carpet in front of it, and nothing else.  It was the only chair in the palace, probably the only chair in all the Maharajah’s State of Chita, and as Sonny Sahib had never seen a chair before he found it very interesting.  He and Tooni inspected it from a respectful distance, and then withdrew to the very farthest corner of the verandah to wait for the Maharajah.  A long time they waited, and yet Tooni would not sit down.  What might not the Maharajah do if he came and found