A Friend In Need

: The Coming Conquest Of England

Whilst the Russians were digging their cooking trenches somewhat

aside from the main camp, and making all necessary arrangements for

bivouacking, Heideck had an opportunity of admiring the magnificence

with which these Indian Princes organised their hunting excursions.



The tents of the two Maharajahs were almost the size of a one-floor

bungalow, and on peering through the open entrance of one of them into

the interior, Heideck saw that it was lavishly hung with red, blue, and

yellow silk, and furnished with most costly carpets.



About half a hundred smaller tents were destined to receive the

retinue and servants. Behind them again was a whole herd of camels and

elephants, which had carried the baggage and material for the tents. The

bleating of countless sheep mingled with the hundred-voiced din of the

Indians as they busily ran hither and thither, and Heideck computed the

number of buffaloes and tethered horses which grazed round the camp at

more than three hundred.



The Maharajah of Sabathu regarded the Russians, who had here made

halt at his invitation, as his guests, and he discharged the duty of

hospitality with genuine Indian lavishness. He had so many sheep and

other provisions placed at the disposal of the soldiers that they could

now amply compensate themselves for many a day's privation in the past.

But the officers were solemnly bidden to the banquet that was to take

place in the Maharajah's tent.



Heideck's hope of meeting on this occasion the Maharajah of Chanidigot

once more, and of perhaps finding an opportunity of conversation with

him, was disappointed.



On returning from a walk through the camp, in which he did not discover

anywhere a trace of Edith, back to the Russian bivouac, Heideck learnt

from the mouth of Prince Tchajawadse that the Maharajah of Chanidigot

had met with a slight accident in the hunting excursion that day, and

was under surgical treatment in his tent, whither he had been brought.



It was said that the tusks of a wild boar, which had run between his

horse's legs, had inflicted a severe wound on the foot, and it was in

any case certain that he would not be visible that day.



On this occasion Heideck also learnt the circumstances to which the

meeting with the two Indian Princes was due.



The Maharajah of Chanidigot, who knew full well that the English had

sentenced him to death for high treason, had fled from his capital. With

a hundred horse and many camels, carrying the most precious part of

his movable treasures, he had advanced northwards out of the sphere of

British territory into the rear of the Russian advancing army. He

had visited his friend, the Maharajah of Sabathu, who was likewise a

Mohammedan, and both Princes had for their greater safety proceeded

hither to the foot of the mountain chain, where, for the present,

despite the exciting times, they could pursue the pleasures of sport

with all the nonchalance of real gentlemen at large.



The treacherous despot of Chanidigot would probably have preferred to

have gone direct to Simla, and it was only the intelligence that had

reached the Russians, that English troops were still in Ambala, that

probably caused him to stop half-way.



Prince Tchajawadse was also induced by this intelligence to abandon his

intended route via Ambala, and to proceed in a direct line through the

jungle. In this way he could confidently hope to reach Simla without a

battle, and, moreover, should it turn out that the garrison of Ambala

was not over strong, he might deliver a surprise attack upon the

English from the north. In time of peace Ambala was one of the larger

encampments, but now it was to be expected that the main body of the

troops stationed there had been ordered to Lahore.



The whole opulence of an Indian Court was unfolded at the Maharajah's

banquet. At the table covered with red velvet and luxuriously laid with

gold and silver plate, the Russian officers sat in gay-coloured ranks

with the chiefs of the Prince's retinue. The viands were excellent, and

champagne flowed in inexhaustible streams. The Russians required but

few invitations to drink, but the Mohammedan Indians were not in

this respect far behind them. It is true that the drinking of wine is

forbidden by the tenets of their religion; but in respect of champagne,

they understand how to evade this commandment by christening it by the

harmless name of "sparkling lemonade," a circumlocution which of course

did not in the slightest counteract its exhilarating effects. The

Indians who were less proof against the effects of alcohol were much

more quickly intoxicated than their new European friends; and under

the influence of the potent liquor universal fraternisation inevitably

resulted.



The Maharajah himself delivered a suggestive speech in praise of the

Russian victors who had at last come as the long-desired saviours of the

country from the British yoke. Of course he had to employ the accursed

English language, it being the only one that he understood besides his

own mother tongue; and Prince Tchajawadse had to translate his words

into Russian in order that they should be intelligible to all the

Russian heroes.



In spite of this somewhat troublesome procedure, however, his words

roused intense enthusiasm, and embracings and brotherly kisses were soon

the order of the day.



When the universal jollity had reached its height, two Bayaderes,

who belonged to the suite of the Maharajah of Sabathu, made their

appearance, Indian beauties, whose voluptuous feminine charms were

calculated to make the blood even of the spoilt European run warm.

Dressed in gold-glittering petticoats and jackets, which left a hand's

breadth of light brown skin visible round the waist, with gold coins

upon the blue-black hair, they executed their dances to the monotonous

tone of weird musical instruments upon a carpet spread in the middle of

the tent. The bare arms, the bones and toes of their little feet were

adorned with gold bracelets set with pearls and rings bedizened with

jewels. Though their motions had nothing in common with the bacchanalian

abandon of other national dances, yet the graceful play of their supple,

lithe limbs was seductive enough to enchant the spectators. The Indians

threw silver coins to the dancers, but the Russians, according to their

native custom, clapped applause and never tired of demanding amid shouts

of delight a repetition of the dance.



Amid the general wantonness there was only one who remained morose and

anxious, and this was Heideck, the newly-made captain in the Russian

army.



He knew that it would be easy for Morar Gopal's shrewdness to find him

in case he had something to report. And that the Hindu did not make his

appearance was for him a disheartening proof that his servant had not

hitherto succeeded in discovering Edith's whereabouts or in obtaining

any certain news of her fate.



What did it avail him, that after much thought he had already evolved a

plan for her liberation, if there was no possibility of putting himself

in communication with her!



Believing her to be kept prisoner in a harem tent, his idea was to send

Morar Gopal with a letter to her, fully convinced that the wily Indian

would succeed by stratagem and bribery in reaching her. Before the

banquet he had negotiated with one of the Indian rajahs for the purchase

of an ox-waggon, and if Edith could by his letter be prevailed upon to

make an attempt at flight, it would not in his view be very difficult

to bring her under Morar Gopal's protection to Ambala, where she would

again find herself among her English countrymen.



But this plan was unrealisable so long as he did not even know

where Edith was. Incapable of bearing any longer this condition of

uncertainty, he was just on the point of leaving the tent in order, at

all risks, to hunt for the beloved lady, when a Russian dragoon stepped

behind his chair and informed him with a military salute that a lady

outside the tent wished to speak to the Captain.



Full of blissful hope that it was Edith he jumped up and hurried out.

But his longing eyes sought in vain for Captain Irwin's widow. Instead

of her whom he sought he perceived a tall female form in the short

jacket and short-cut coloured dress which he had seen on his journeys

among the inhabitants of the Georgian mountains. The hair and the face

of the girl were almost entirely hidden by a scarf wound round the head.

Only when, at his approach, she pushed it back somewhat he perceived who

stood before him.



"Georgi--you here!" he exclaimed with surprise. "And in this dress?"



He had indeed reason to be surprised, for he had not again seen the

handsome, blonde page, to whom he chiefly owed his life, since their

meeting on the way to the place of execution.



When on the evening of that for him so eventful day he asked Prince

Tchajawadse about Georgi he had received only a short, evasive reply,

and the Prince's knitted brows showed such evident anger that he well

perceived that something must have taken place between them, and so it

appeared to him to be best to him not to mention again the name of the

Circassian girl.



When the detachment started he had in vain looked for the page who had

hitherto been inseparable from "his master," and only the anxiety for

Edith, which was so much nearer his heart, was the cause that he had not

thought much about the inexplicable disappearance of the disguised girl.



He had certainly least of all expected to find her here, so far from the

Russian headquarters, and in woman's dress to boot. But the Circassian

did not seem inclined to give him detailed information.



"I have begged you to come out to see me, sir," she said, "because I did

not want the Prince to see me. I met your Indian servant. And he told me

about the English lady whom the Maharajah of Chanidigot has carried off

from you."



"He did not carry her off from me, Georgi, for I have no claim upon her.

She only placed herself under my protection, and therefore it is my duty

to do all that I can to set her free."



The girl looked at him, and there was a glance as of suppressed passion

in her beautiful eyes.



"Why do you not speak the truth, sir? Say that you love her! Tell

me that you love her and I will bring her back to you--and this very

evening."



"You, Georgi, how in all the world will you be able to manage that? Do

you know then where the lady is to be found?"



"I know it from your servant, Morar Gopal. She is there, in that tent

of the Maharajah of Chanidigot, before whose door the two Indians are

standing sentry. Take care and do not attempt to force your way in, for

the sentries would cut you to pieces before allowing you to put a foot

in the tent."



"It may be that you are right," said Heideck, whose breast was now

filled with a blissful feeling at having at last learned with certainty

that the adored woman was close by. "But how shall you be able to get to

her?"



"I am a woman, and I know how one must treat these miserable Indian

rogues; the Maharajah of Chanidigot is ill, and in his pain he has

something else to think of than of the joys of love. You must make use

of this favourable moment, sir! and in this very night whatever is to

happen must happen."



"Certainly! every minute lost means perhaps a terrible danger to Mrs.

Irwin. But if you have a plan for saving her please tell me--"



The Circassian shook her head.



"Why talk of things that must be first accomplished? Return to the

banquet, sir, that no one may suspect of you. At midnight you will find

the English lady in your tent, or you will never set eyes on me again."



She turned as if to go; but after having taken a few steps came back

once more to him.



"You will not tell the Prince that I am here, do you understand? It is

not time yet for him to learn that."



With these words she disappeared, before Heideck could ask another

question. Little as he felt inclined after what he had just experienced

to return to the mad riot of the banquet, he perceived that there

was scarcely anything else open to him, for any interference with the

unknown plans of the Circassian would scarcely be of any advantage to

Edith.



But if the minutes had hitherto appeared endless, they now crept on with

quite intolerable slowness. He scarcely heard or saw anything that was

taking place about him. The rajah who had the next place to him tried in

vain to open a conversation in his broken English, and at last, shaking

his head, abandoned the silent stranger to his musings, which in the

middle of this riotous festivity must certainly have appeared very

strange to him.



Shortly before midnight, before Prince Tchajawadse and his other

comrades thought of moving, Heideck once more left the state tent of the

Maharajah and turned his steps towards the Russian camp, which was far

away visible in the red glare of the bivouac fires, around which the

loudest merriment was also taking place.



In reality he entertained very little hope that the Circassian would

be able to fulfil her bold promise, for what she had taken upon herself

appeared to him to be absolutely impracticable. Yet his heart throbbed

wildly when he thrust back the linen sheet that covered the entrance of

the tent which had been assigned to him.



On the folding-table in the middle of the little room were two

lighted candles beside a burning lantern. And in their light Heideck

discerned--not Edith Irwin, but instead, the handsomest young rajah who

had ever crossed his eyes under the glowing skies of India.



For a moment Heideck was uncertain, for the slender youth, in the silken

blouse tied round with a red scarf, English riding-breeches and neat

little boots, had turned his back to him, so that he could not see

his face, and his hair was completely hidden under the rose-and-yellow

striped turban. But the blissful presentiment which told him who was

concealed beneath the charming disguise could not deceive him. A few

rapid steps and he was by the side of the delicate-limbed Indian youth.

Overpowered by a storm of passionate emotions, he forgot all obstacles

and scruples, and the next moment clasped him in his arms with an

exultant cry of joy.



"Edith! my Edith!"



"My beloved friend!"



In the exceeding delight of this reunion the confession which had never

passed her lips in the hours of familiar tete-a-tete, or in the moments

of extreme peril which they had endured together, forced its way

irresistibly from her heart--the confession of a love which had long

absorbed her whole life.



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