“You dare not!” rose to Fidá’s lips, but he checked the words; for it was indeed time that he learned his place. And he stood with lowered head as the Rajah turned away and left him. This encounter strongly affected Fidá’s state of mind. Reconsidering the conversation, he perceived that he stood the debtor of the man whose slave he had become—an infidel dog, a worshipper of images and Jinn. It could not be denied that Rai-Khizar’s toleration was greater than that of any Arab chief; and Fidá felt bitterly the humiliation of his leniency. Yet in all the Rajah’s mildness there had been a dignity that inspired in the Mohammedan an unwilling admiration and respect. Perfunctorily, Fidá finished his prayers, and then acted upon the first of the two commands of his master:—he left the palace in search of food. It was some time, however, before he found it, and then only in the house of slaves, where a number of his fellows were beginning the morning meal. Among them was Ahmed, who sat a little apart from the chattering herd, apparently watching for some one. At sight of Fidá he rose eagerly and ran forward, greeting him with marks of respect which the Asra reproved. Then the boy led the way into the interior of the dirty, barren house, in the centre of which was a wood fire, overhung by a large iron pot filled with a bubbling mass of millet. Near by, on a stand, was an immense bowl of clarified butter, or “ghee”, which, mixed with the meal, formed the staple as well as the sacrificial food of the low-caste Hindoo throughout India. Fidá waited in silence while Ahmed handily procured him a dish of the none too appetizing mess. And then, eager to escape the vile and smoky air of the interior, the two hurried out into the shaded veranda, while the other slaves were eating.