"It's of no use," I muttered; "and I must make a virtue of necessity." As I said this, I turned to Salaman, who eagerly began to hand me the various articles of attire; and in spite of my determination to be calm and stoical, I could not help feeling a glow of satisfaction as my eyes lit upon Russia leather boots, with gold spurs, a handsomely braided and corded tunic, helmet with handsome plume and puggaree of glittering gold-embroidered muslin wound lightly round, after the fashion of a slight turban. And as I put on article after article, I began to marvel at the accuracy of the fit until I felt that the rajah must have given instructions for the clothes to be made exactly like the cut and torn uniform I had worn when I was made prisoner. I could not help it, for I was still a boy, and one of the youngest officers in the Company's service: a warm glow of satisfaction ran through me. I forgot the pain in my arm as I passed it through the sleeve of the loose tunic, and buttoned it across my breast, which seemed to swell as I drew myself up, feeling as if, in spite of the Eastern cut of my uniform, I was an English officer once more. I had turned to the second man, who was holding my gauntlet gloves and helmet, when Salaman produced something I had not before seen, and I flushed a little more with pleasure, for it was a magnificent cartouch-box and cross-belt, which I felt must have belonged to the rajah; and while I was hesitating about passing the belt over my head, Salaman forestalled me, and then drew back as if to admire me. Then, looking at me with a peculiar smile, he passed his hands behind a purdah, and produced the gorgeously jewelled tulwar and sheath which the rajah had offered me before. I shrank from it, for it seemed like a bond to link me to the rajah's service, but Salaman fastened the magnificent belt, and, for the life of me, I could not refrain from drawing the flashing blade from its sheath, and holding it quivering in my trembling hand, from which it sent a thrill right to my heart. "If it is a bond between us forced upon me," I thought, "this can cut us apart;" and at this I thrust it back into its sheath, allowed Salaman to alter the buckle a little, and then took the helmet and gloves, putting both on, and involuntarily turning to see if there was a looking-glass. Vanity? Well, perhaps so; but what lad of my years would not have done the same? But there was no glass. I had to be contented by seeing myself in imagination with my attendants' eyes as they drew back and gazed at me as proudly as if my appearance was entirely their work. "Ah!" exclaimed Salaman. "Now my lord looks indeed my lord. Who could call him sahib when he is like that?" I winced at the man's flattery, and yet it was hardly that, and I laughed to myself as I felt that it was the clothes they were admiring and not the wearer.