Rejoice!" But neither of his hearers appeared to be in a joyful mood.

Lakamba had put one leg over his knee, and went on gently scratching it with a meditative air, while Babalatchi, sitting cross-legged, seemed suddenly to become smaller and very limp, staring straight before him vacantly.
The guard evinced some interest in the proceedings, stretching themselves full length on the mats to be nearer the speaker.

One of them got up and now stood leaning against the arm-rack, playing absently with the fringes of his sword-hilt.
Dain waited till the crash of thunder had died away in distant mutterings before he spoke again.
"Are you dumb, O ruler of Sambir, or is the son of a great Rajah unworthy of your notice?
I am come here to seek refuge and to warn you, and want to know what you intend doing." "You came here because of the white man's daughter," retorted Lakamba, quickly.

"Your refuge was with your father, the Rajah of Bali, the Son of Heaven, the 'Anak Agong' himself.

What am I to protect great princes?
Only yesterday I planted rice in a burnt clearing; to-day you say I hold your life in my hand." Babalatchi glanced at his master.