She turned to go; but, stopping her, he said: 

“Oh, but you don’t understand.  He’s a great friend of mine and he knows that I’m awfully fond of you, little girl.  So he’s ready to do anything for us and give me a——­”

She walked past him, her eyes blazing with anger, with so resolute an air that he drew back and watched her go.  She went straight to her room and remained there until Ida came to tell her that it was time to dress for the celebration of the Puja festival.

* * * * *

In the outer courtyard of the Palace six of the Rajah’s State elephants, their tusks gilded and foreheads gaudily painted, caparisoned with rich velvet housings covered with heavy gold embroidery trailing almost to the ground, bearing on their backs gold or silver howdahs fashioned in the shape of temples, awaited the European guests.  Chunerbutty, when allotting positions as Master of Ceremonies, took advantage of his position to contrive that Noreen should accompany him on the elephant on which he was to lead the line.  The girl discovered too late that they were to be alone on it, except for the mahout on its neck.  Dermot and Barclay managed to be together on another animal.

When all were in position in the howdahs, to which they climbed by ladders, the gates were thrown open, and through a mob of salaaming retainers the elephants emerged with stately tread on the great square in front of the Palace and proceeded through the city.  The houses were gaily decorated.  Flags and strips of coloured cloth fluttered from every building; gaudy carpets and embroideries hung from the innumerable balconies and windows.  The elephants could scarcely force a passage through the narrow streets, so crowded were they with swarms of men, women, and children in holiday attire, all going in one direction.  Their destination was the park of the Moti Mahal or Pearl Palace, the Rajah’s summer residence outside the walls of the city.

There the enormous crowd was kept back by red-robed retainers armed with tulwars—­native curved swords—­leaving clear a wide stretch of open ground, in the centre of which on a gigantic altar was the image of the Goddess Kali.  Before it a magnificent bull was firmly secured by chains and ropes to stout posts sunk deep in the earth.  The animal’s head drooped and it could hardly stand up, for it had been heavily drugged for the day’s ceremony and was scarcely conscious.

The Rajah’s army was drawn up in line fronting the altar, but some distance away from it.  Two old muzzle-loading nine-pounder guns, their teams of powerful bullocks lying contentedly behind on the grass, formed the right of the line.  Then came the cavalry, consisting of twenty sowars on squealing white stallions with long tails dyed red.  Left of them was the infantry, two hundred sepoys in shakoes, red coatees, white trousers, and bare feet, leaning on long percussion-capped muskets with triangular bayonets.