But beyond that.... Still it was impossible to judge aright. VIII. _Divers Passages of Speech and Action whence the Nature, Arts and Disposition of the King and his Subjects may be observed._ In this land men tell “sad stories of the death of Kings,” not easily found elsewhere; and also speak of _sati_, which is generally supposed to be an “effete curiosity” as the Bengali said, in a manner which makes it seem very near and vivid. Be pleased to listen to some of the tales, but with all the names cut out, because a King has just as much right to have his family affairs respected as has a British householder paying income-tax. Once upon a time, that is to say when the British power was well established in the land and there were railways, there was a King who lay dying for many days, and all, including the Englishmen about him, knew that his end was certain. But he had chosen to lie in an outer court or pleasure-house of his Palace; and with him were some twenty of his favourite wives. The place in which he lay was very near to the City; and there was a fear that his womenkind should, on his death, going mad with grief, cast off their veils and run out into the streets, uncovered before all men. In which case, nothing, not even the power of the Press, and the locomotive, and the telegraph, and cheap education and enlightened municipal councils, could have saved them from _sati_, for they were the wives of a King. So the Political did his best to induce the dying man to go to the Fort of the City, a safe place close to the regular zenana, where all the women could be kept within walls. He said that the air was better in the Fort, but the King refused; and that he would recover in the Fort; but the King refused. After some days, the latter turned and said:--“_Why_ are you so keen, Sahib, upon getting my old bones up to the Fort?” Driven to his last defences, the Political said simply:--“Well, Maharana Sahib, the place is close to the road you see, and....” The King saw and said:--“Oh, _that’s_ it! I’ve been puzzling my brain for four days to find out what on earth you were driving at. I’ll go to-night.” “But there may be some difficulty,” began the Political. “You think so,” said the King. “If I only hold up my little finger, the women will obey me. Go now, and come back in five minutes, and all will be ready for departure.” As a matter of fact, the Political withdrew for the space of fifteen minutes, and gave orders that the conveyances which he had kept in readiness day and night should be got ready. In fifteen minutes those twenty women, with their hand-maidens, were packed and ready for departure; and the King died later at the Fort, and nothing happened. Here the Englishman asked why a frantic woman must of necessity become _sati_, and felt properly abashed when he was told that she _must_. There was nothing else for her if she went out unveiled deliberately.