ing its nature, and when we see them smilingly, trustfully, putting their hands within reach of its fangs, then we understand how terribly dangerous the snake is. Sandip is right when he suspects that though I, for myself, may be ready to die at his hands, this boy I shall wean from him and save.
'So the money is wanted for the use of your patriots?' I questioned with a smile.
'Of course it is!' said Amulya proudly. 'Are they not our kings? Poverty takes away from their regal power. Do you know, we always insist on Sandip Babu travelling First Class? He never shirks kingly honours,—he accepts them not for himself, but for the glory of us all. The greatest weapon of those who rule the world, Sandip Babu has told us, is the hypnotism of their display. To take the vow of poverty would be for them not merely a penance,—it would mean suicide."
At this point Sandip noiselessly entered the room. I threw my shawl over the jewel-case with a rapid movement.
'The special-talk business not yet over?' he asked with a sneer in his tone.
'Yes, we've quite finished,' said Amulya apologetically. 'It was nothing much.'
'No, Amulya,' I said, 'we have not quite finished.'
'So exit Sandip for the second time, I suppose?' said Sandip.
'If you please.'
