"I am going to present you to my people this evening, by-and-by, when
they have eaten and rested. My servants are waiting for you in the
little tent at the back."
"Waiting? What for?" I said in surprise.
"You will see," he said, smiling. "Oh, well, there need be no reserve
or form between us. You have been badly wounded, and you are dressed as
one who has suffered. I have had more worthy garments brought for the
great chief and brave young warrior, my friend."
"My own uniform?" I said sharply.
"Yes; of your own design," he said quietly.
"No, no; I mean my own--the Company's uniform."
"A noble uniform," he said warmly; "because it is stained with a brave
swordsman's blood. I have it still, but it is cut, torn, and spoiled,
Gil. It is something to have--to treasure up as one would a good weapon
that has done its duty."
"I must wear that or none," I said firmly.
"No," he replied gravely, as he leaned toward me; "you will never wear
the Company's uniform again. The great Company has passed away, as
other great powers have passed before."
The fierce words rose to my lips to say that this was nothing, for my
people were; fighting hard to recover lost ground, but I checked myself.
I did not want to insult a brave man who was my friend, neither did I
wish to show that I had had news of the state of the country, so I said
quietly--
"I told you last time that what you wish is impossible."
He frowned, but smiled again directly.
"Yes, when you were weak and suffering. You are stronger now, and have
thought better of my proposal."
"I have thought it a great honour, Ny Deen--rajah--your highness, I
mean."
"No, no; Ny Deen always to you, Gil Vincent," he said warmly. "I am a
maharajah, but only a man. I have not forgotten."
His words, and the way in which they were uttered, moved me, and I held
out my hand, which he grasped and held as I went on excitedly--
"Yes, I know you are my friend," I cried. "You love me, and you are
great and noble and chivalrous. You would not wish to see me degrade
myself?"
"By becoming my greatest officer?" he said, in a low, reproachful voice.
"No," I cried; "that would be a great honour, far too great for such a
boy as I am."
He shook his head.
"You are only a boy yet, but you have had the training of a man, and you
have the knowledge of a great soldier growing in you rapidly. The
boyhood is going fast, Gil, and life is very short. You will make a
great soldier, and I hold you in honour for that, as I love you for a
brave, true gentleman--my friend."
"Then you would not wish me to degrade myself by becoming false to my
oaths--to see me, for the sake of promotion, turn from my duty to those
I have sworn to serve--see me become a renegade. You would never
believe in me or trust me again. No, rajah--no, Ny Deen--my friend; you
think so now, but by-and-by, in some time of danger, you would say, `No;
I cannot trust him. He has been false to his people--he will be false
to me.'"
"No," he said, looking at me earnestly, "I shall never doubt you, Gil,
and it is vain to resist. Every word you say, boy--every brave piece of
opposition makes me more determined. You are proving more and more how
worthy you are of the great honours I offer you. Come, you have fought
enough. You are conquered. Give up your English sword, and take the
tulwar I will place in your hands."
"No," I cried passionately. "I am the Company's officer."
"There is no Company," he cried. "You have fought to crush down a
conquered people; now fight to raise them up into a great nation; to
make me into one of the greatest kings who ever ruled in Hindustan. It
will be a great work."
"I cannot," I said passionately.
He turned a furious look upon me, and dashed away my hand.
"Ungrateful!" he cried fiercely.
"No," I retorted. "I must do my duty to my Queen."
"I tell you that you are mine now," he cried furiously. "You must obey
me. I am your maharajah and your king."
"No; you are the great chief who has made me his prisoner, sir. I am
English, and you will have to give account to my people for my life."
"Pish! Your life! What are you among so many? I tell you my purpose
is fixed. You are my officer, and--"
"You will have me killed?"
"Killed!--imprisoned till you grow wiser. I should not kill you yet."
"Very well," I said, trying to speak calmly; but a crowd of faces seemed
to come before my eyes, and I believe my voice shook.
"What?" he raged out.
"I said `Very well,'" I replied. "I am ready."
My words only drove away his anger; and he sat gazing at me for some
moments before bursting out into a merry laugh.
"My dear Gil!" he cried, rising and coming closer to plant his hands
upon my shoulders, giving me such pain that I felt faint, for one was
over my wound, "it is of no use to fight. I tell you that everything
you say makes you more mine. Come, my brave, true lad, accept your
fate. Go into the next tent, and come back my chief. I have brought
many of my best officers over to be presented to you--noble men who will
place their swords at your feet, for they know what you have done, and
they are eager to receive you as their brave young leader. There, I
cannot be angry with you, boy. You master even me, and make me quite
your slave. Kill, imprison you! It is impossible. You accept?"