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The Rajah of Kashmir and his court went a-hunting on the day of Lal Singh's return to their good company. They swept down the valley, a gorgeous train of nobles and host of attendants with falcons girt for foray, and moved with much state and circumstance among the hills until the sun grew hot, when silken tents were pitched in a walnut grove near by a smoothly flowing river. Here they ate and drank and reposed while obsequious servants fanned them, and the sweet music of vinas blended with the murmur of the water and the droning of the bees. The Rajah sat in the entrance of a crimson tent and enjoyed the delicious air. The nest-laden branches drooped above, the twittering of birds ceased, but gentle forms hopped lightly from twig to twig, and curious eyes peeped from leafy lurking-places. In the turban of the Rajah, the Sapphire of Fate shone with serene lustre like the blue water-lily of Kashmir. His fingers toyed idly with the plumage of a magnifi[Pg 104]cent hawk, now unhooded but still wearing the leathern jesses and tiny tinkling bells of the chase. The leash by which it was held slipped gradually from the arm of an attendant and it was unconfined. Its keen eye knew all the ambushed flurry overhead, but it did not rise—a more curious prey lay nearer. In a moment it was poised in air. Another second and it had gained possession of the Mystic Stone, the augur of weal to the Khalsa, its menace when borne by a foe, the portentous Sapphire of Fate! All was consternation and clamour. The unlucky fellow who had slipped the leash, waving his wrist, sought to induce the bold robber to alight, but his cries were scarcely heard above the vociferation of the throng, and he was fain to tear his beard and curse the day of his birth. But as neither lamentation nor rage could restore the treasure, cooler heads dispatched a party of horsemen with falcons and lures to decoy the recreant. With the first shout of dismay and horror Atmâ stood as if transfixed, enwrapt in thought, and did not stir nor speak until the rescuing party had long vanished across the plain, and Bertram touching him on the shoulder rallied him on his abstraction, and [Pg 105]told him that the Nawab was about to beguile the time and reanimate the flagging spirits of the illustrious company with a tale. Repressing a sigh, Atmâ smiled and suffered his friend to lead him into the circle forming about the story-teller. "Far back," began the Nawab, "far back in the ages whose annals are lost in story, when, Time and Eternity being nearer the point of their divergence, things preternatural and strange entered into the lives of men, there lived a mighty king of great renown, who, being stricken with a lingering but fatal malady, spent the last years of his life in adjusting the affairs of his kingdom and preparing all things to the single end that the reign of his successor, who was his only son, might excel in grandeur and dominion all other empires of that era. This son ascended the throne while still of tender years, and found that parental fondness had endowed him with unequalled power and dominion. His subjects, under the beneficent rule of the departed king, had become a great and prosperous nation; he was at peace with all neighbouring monarchs; his treasuries were filled to overflowing; and, more than all, the wisdom of the counsellors whom the king this father had appointed to instruct and [Pg 106]guide his early years had sunk deep into a heart well-fitted by Nature to receive it, and his demeanour was such that the loyal affection which was his by inheritance soon changed to a heartfelt admiration and love of the virtues which all men perceived him to possess. Surely no monarch ever began to reign under more auspicious skies. One of his palaces, his chief pleasure-house, had been built for him by command of the late king, and was of unique excellence. Its progress during erection had been impatiently watched by the monarch, who desired to see it complete and be assured of its perfection before he closed his eyes on the world, so that the skilful builders who wrought day and night were distracted between the injunction laid on them that it should be in every part of unrivalled beauty, and the hourly repetition of the royal mandate that the task be accomplished immediately. But, notwithstanding, so well did they succeed that among all the wonderful palaces of that age and land there was none to compare with The Magic Isle, for thus was it called, because by ingenious device it floated on the bosom of one of the lakes by which that country was diversified. No bridge led to this palace, but gilded barges were ever ready to spread their silken [Pg 107]sails and convey the king to and from the elysium, which sometimes, as if in coquetry, receded at his approach among flower-decked islands, and sometimes bore down to meet the gay flotilla, branches spread and garlands waving, like some enchanted vessel of unknown fashion and fragrance.
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