Imaginary wars and battles -- Fiction; Science fiction; War stories
The Maharajah of Chanidigot was, like the majority of his
fellow-countrymen, a believer in Islam, and the exterior view of his
palace at once betrayed the Mohammedan prince. Away from the main
building, but connected with it by a covered gallery, was a small
wing--the harem, the interior of which was sufficiently guarded from
prying eyes. Here, as in the adornment of the palace, the most splendid
lavishness had been employed. Heideck thought the while with pity on the
poor subjects of the Maharajah whose slavery had to provide the means
for all this meretricious luxury. The Minister and his companion were
not conducted into the large audience hall, which was set apart for
special functions, but into a loggia on the first floor. Between the
graceful marble pillars, which supported it, one looked out into
an inner court, which, with exotic plants, afforded an enchanting
spectacle. A gently splashing fountain, springing from a marble basin in
the centre, cast up a fine spray as high as the loggia and dispersed a
refreshing coolness.
The Minister left him waiting for a considerable time, but then returned
and gave him a mute sign to accompany him to the Prince.
The room in which the Maharajah received them was strangely furnished,
presenting to the eyes of a European a not altogether happy combination
of Eastern luxury and English style. Among splendid carpets and precious
weapons, with which the walls were adorned, there hung glaring pictures
of truly barbaric taste--such as in Germany would hardly be met with in
the house of a fairly well-to-do citizen. Similar incongruities there
were many, and perhaps the appearance of the Prince himself was the most
incongruous of them all. For this stalwart man with the soft black beard
and penetrating eyes, who in the picturesque attire of his country would
doubtless have been a handsome and imposing figure, made an inharmonious
impression in his grey English suit and with the red turban on his head.
He sat in an English club chair, covered with red Russia leather and
gently inclined his head in response to Heideck’s deep bow.
It did not escape the notice of the German officer that the Maharajah
looked extremely annoyed, and Heideck concluded that it was the low
price he had offered for his indigo which had made him so. But the first
words of the Prince reassured him. “As I learn,” he said in somewhat
broken English, “you are in fact a European, but no Englishman, and so I
hope to hear the truth from you. I am quite ready to reward you for your
information.”
“I am accustomed to speak the truth, even without reward, Highness!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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