THE SLAVE GIRL OF AGRA
He showed a studied respect to his visitor, met his master's vehemence with calmness, and his well-considered words fell one by one as hammer strokes. A careful observer might have noticed that the decrepit Gokul Das, speaking with humility and respect, was the real dictator, and that the impulsive Nobo Kumar was dragged along the path marked out by the iron hand of his servant bent with age.
"We are alone here, I suppose?" asked Nobo Kumar, breaking a long silence.
"All my people have gone to the village to join the Spring Festival, the outer gate has been locked by me."
"Thou knowest the latest news, Gokul Das?"
"You are better informed, my Master, and I would fain learn the news from your lips."
"The determined Afghans are as powerful as ever in the south. Rajah Man Singh once went to Jehanabad to repel them, but found them more than a match for him. They surprised Man Singh's son, and took him prisoner."
"That was two years ago."
"Since then the Afghans have released the Raja's son, and have been left in peaceful possession of Orissa. They acknowledge the Emperor Akbar nominally, but are virtual masters of Orissa, as the Moguls are masters of Bengal."
"The peace will not last long, my Master."
"But I don't see what Raja Man Singh can do further. He dares not show his face in Orissa."
"Raja Man Singh dares much."
"I see, the honours he bestowed on thee recently have made thee his partisan!" said Nobo Kumar, with a smile.
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