n the
day. There were more of them, and they were of a finer grain; in fact, the
gentlemen, who were judges, declared that most of them were really pretty.
They were seated on the floor in native fashion. They had great black eyes;
their complexion was only the least tawny, and was paler than it would have
been if they had lived on a more invigorating diet than rice and fruits.

There were half a dozen musicians, who played upon tom-toms, instruments
like a fiddle, and one that was very nearly a hurdy-gurdy, with lutes and
flutes. They gave the preliminary strains, and the dancers formed the
semicircle. The performance was similar to that the party had seen at the
hotel, though it was more finished, and the attitudes and posturing
appeared to belong to a higher school of art than the other. But the whole
was so nearly like what the strangers had seen before, that they were not
absorbed by it, and gave more attention to the people attending the feast;
for they were an exceedingly interesting study to them.

After the performance had continued about a quarter of an hour there was a
pause, and the dancers retreated to a corner of the room, seating
themselves again on the floor. At this moment Sahib Perbut came into the
grand saloon leading a boy, who did not appear to be more than ten years
old, by the hand. He was dressed in the most richly ornamented garments,
and he was an exceedingly pretty little fellow. He was conducted to the
viscount.

"Will your Lordship permit me to present to you and your friends my son
Dinshaw, in whose honor I am making this feast? This is Lord Tremlyn, my
son," said the father, who was evidently very proud of the boy.

"Sahib Dinshaw, I am very happy to make your acquaintance," replied his
lordship, as he rose and took the hand of the young gentleman, whom he
introduced to every member of his party.

They all followed the example of the viscount, and addressed him as "Sahib
Dinshaw," the title being equivalent to "Lord," or "Master," applied by the
natives to their employers, and to the English generally. All of them gazed
at him with intense interest, not unmingled with admiration. The hero of
the occasion spoke English as fluently as his father.

"How old are you, Sahib Dinshaw?" asked Mrs. Belgrave, who was strongly
tempted to kiss the little fellow; but she was afraid it would not be in
order, and she refrained.

"I am ten years old, madam," replied Dinshaw, with the sweetest of smi