affronted, the little Maráthá, pale and sick with shame and fury, quitted the presence without taking ceremonious leave. Instead of securing an important ally, Aurangzíb had made an implacable enemy.
He soon realized his mistake when Sivají, after escaping, concealed in a hamper, from the guards who watched his house, resumed his old sway in the Gháts at the close of 1666, nine months after he had set forth on his unlucky visit to Court. He found that the Mughals had almost abandoned the forts in the Gháts, in order to prosecute a fruitless siege of Bíjápúr, and he immediately re-occupied all his old posts of vantage. No punishment followed upon this act of defiance, for Jaswant Singh, the friend of Hindús and affable pocketer of bribes, once more commanded in the Deccan, and the result of his mediation was a fresh treaty, by which Sivají was acknowledged as a Rája, and permitted to enjoy a large amount of territory together with a new jágír in Berár. The kings of Bíjápúr and Golkonda hastened to follow the amicable lead of the Mughal, and purchased their immunity from the Maráthás by paying an annual tribute. Deprived of the excitements of war and brigandage, Sivají fixed his capital in the lofty crag of Ráhirí,
his set purpose to gratify a woman's wish. The rumour that he connived at Sivají's escape, as mentioned by Fryer, in order to make a friend of the man whose life he thus saved, is improbable. Aurangzíb certainly believed that he had more to gain by Sivají's death than by his friendship, which he despised; and subsequent events showed that the Maráthá did not consider himself at all beholden to the Emperor for his safety.
