Chapter 6 - Page 2

Tuan," answered Babalatchi; "Dain has returned at last. He is here
for an important talk, bitcharra--if you mercifully consent."

Evidently Lakamba's mercy went so far--for in a short while he came out
from behind the curtain--but it did not go to the length of inducing him
to make an extensive toilet. A short red sarong tightened hastily round
his hips was his only garment. The merciful ruler of Sambir looked
sleepy and rather sulky. He sat in the arm-chair, his knees well apart,
his elbows on the arm-rests, his chin on his breast, breathing heavily
and waiting malevolently for Dain to open the important talk.

But Dain did not seem anxious to begin. He directed his gaze towards
Babalatchi, squatting comfortably at the feet of his master, and remained
silent with a slightly bent head as if in attentive expectation of coming
words of wisdom.

Babalatchi coughed discreetly, and, leaning forward, pushed over a few
mats for Dain to sit upon, then lifting up his squeaky voice he assured
him with eager volubility of everybody's delight at this long-looked-for
return. His heart had hungered for the sight of Dain's face, and his
ears were withering for the want of the refreshing sound of his voice.
Everybody's hearts and ears were in the same sad predicament, according
to Babalatchi, as he indicated with a sweeping gesture the other bank of
the river where the settlement slumbered peacefully, unconscious of the
great joy awaiting it on the morrow when Dain's presence amongst them
would be disclosed. "For"--went on Babalatchi--"what is the joy of a
poor man if not the open hand of a generous trader or of a great--"

Here he checked himself abruptly with a calculated embarrassment of
manner, and his roving eye sought the floor, while an apologetic smile
dwelt for a moment on his misshapen lips. Once or twice during this
opening speech an amused expression flitted across Dain's face, soon to
give way, however, to an appearance of grave concern. On Lakamba's brow
a heavy frown had settled, and his lips moved angrily as he listened to
his Prime Minister's oratory. In the silence that fell upon the room
when Babalatchi ceased speaking arose a chorus of varied snores from the
corner where the body-guard had resumed their interrupted slumbers, but
the distant rumble of thunder filling then Nina's heart with apprehension
for the safety of her lover passed unheeded by those three men intent
each on their own purposes, for life or death.

After a short silence, Babalatchi, discarding now the flowers of polite
eloquence, spoke again, but in short and hurried sentences and in a low
voice. They had been very uneasy. Why did Dain remain so long absent?
The men dwelling on the lower