of little halls with grated windows. It smelt rather too strong of
attar of roses in there--the Maharajah was fond of attar of roses--
but the decorations on the whitewashed walls, in red and yellow,
were very wonderful indeed. The courtyards and the verandahs were
full of people, soldiers, syces, merchants with their packs,
sweetmeat sellers, barbers; only the gardens were empty. Sonny
Sahib thought that if he lived in the palace he would stay always
in the gardens, watching the red-spotted fish in the fountains, and
gathering the roses; but the people who did live there seemed to
prefer smoking long bubbling pipes in company, or disputing over
their bargains, or sleeping by the hour in the shade of the
courtyard walls. There were no women anywhere; but if Sonny Sahib
had possessed the ears or the eyes of the country, he might have
heard many swishings and patterings and whisperings behind
curtained doors, and have seen many fingers on the curtains' edge
and eyes at the barred windows as he went by.

This was the palace, and the palace was the crown of Lalpore, which
was built on the top of a hill, and could lock itself in behind
walls ten feet thick all round, if an enemy came that way.

The Maharajah was to receive them in one of the pillared verandahs,
one that looked out over the river, where there was a single great
ivory chair, with a red satin cushion, and a large piece of carpet
in front of it, and nothing else. It was the only chair in the
palace, probably the only chair in all the Maharajah's State of
Chita, and as Sonny Sahib had never seen a chair before he found it
very interesting. He and Tooni inspected it from a respectful
distance, and then withdrew to the very farthest corner of the
verandah to wait for the Maharajah. A long time they waited, and