Baroda is, without exception, one of the most interesting and picturesque cities in India. It is perched on the lofty, precipitous banks of the River Wishwamitra. Large marble staircases lead down to the water's edge, and above them rise thousands of minarets, bell towers, temples, kiosks, and pagodas half screened here and there by masses of dark green foliage.
Frederick met with a very hospitable reception on his arrival at Colonel Fitzpatrick's comfortable bungalow. He could not help being touched by the heartiness of welcome extended to him, and Florence appeared to him more charming and beautiful than ever.
As in duty bound, the colonel immediately took steps to notify the Guicowar of Frederick's presence in the capital, and a few days afterward received an intimation that his highness would be glad to grant Count von Waldberg the honor of an audience. Accordingly, on the appointed day, Frederick, accompanied by Fitzpatrick, drove to the royal palace, and after traversing numerous halls and gorgeous apartments thronged with courtiers, found himself in the presence of the Guicowar, to whom he was introduced with due form and ceremony.
The first moments of the interview were passed almost in silence. Then the Guicowar, addressing Frederick in English, declared that he was happy to receive the son of so illustrious a soldier and statesman as General von Waldberg, and bade him consider himself at home in his dominions, [Pg 61] adding that he would do all that lay in his power to render Frederick's sojourn in Baroda as agreeable as possible. The Guicowar wore a red velvet tunic, over which was spread a profusion of magnificent jewels. His turban was adorned with an aigrette of diamonds, among which sparkled the famous “Star of the South.” He was at the time a man of about thirty-five years of age and of tall and commanding stature. His complexion was tolerably clear, and his strongly marked features at once gave a perfect idea of this singular man, who to extreme gentleness in every-day intercourse united the most atrocious cruelty on many other occasions. The origin of the dynasty of the Guicowars is very interesting. Their name, “Guicowar,” of which they are so extremely proud, signifies in the Mahratta language, “Keeper of Cows,” and they are fond of tracing their descent to a family of “Koumbis,” or peasants.
After a time hookhas, with jeweled amber mouthpieces, were brought in, and both the colonel and Frederick, following the example of the Guicowar, began to smoke in true oriental fashion. Meanwhile a number of pretty girls, covered with trinkets and attired in thin chemises, had stepped into the room. They were bayaderes, or dancing girls, who played, sang, and danced for the entertainment of the Guicowar's guests, moving with all the languid voluptuousness peculiar to the East. These privileged individuals are allowed to come and go as they please in the royal palace, as if to make up for the absence of the ladies secluded in their Zenana. When, at the close of the audience, which had lasted about two hours, Frederick at length took leave of his dusky highness, he was thoroughly enraptured with all he had seen. The Court of the Guicowar is the only one in India which has preserved down to the present time the customs of the middle ages in all their primitive splendor, and during his stay at Baroda, Frederick had numerous opportunities of admiring the extreme luxury and lavish magnificence [Pg 62] of ceremonies which are not to be witnessed anywhere else in the world.
Frederick soon began to feel as if he were a member of the colonel's family. The old gentleman treated him like a son, and was never tired of introducing him to all his friends and acquaintances. One morning he proposed that they should call together on a Hindoo lady, the widow of a great dignitary, and whose wealth was enormous. Being free of control and of advanced notions, she was fond of frequenting good European society, and would, so the colonel declared, be delighted to make Count von Waldberg's acquaintance. The opportunities of entering the house of a lady of great fortune and high caste in India are exceedingly rare, for the rules of the Zenana are so strict and so full of deeply rooted prejudices that even widows, proverbially forward, seldom dare to break through them. Frederick, therefore, declared in reply that he would be much pleased to avail himself of the colonel's offer.
The widow received them in a magnificently decorated room. Her face was partly vailed by a rose-colored silk scarf, and her dress was literally ablaze with diamonds, rubies, and gold. She was a woman of between forty and fifty years of age, very dark, and with piercing coal-black eyes. When the colonel and his young friend entered, she quickly rose from the divan, and having shaken hands with them both in European fashion, invited them to take seats on either side of her. She began by thanking Colonel Fitzpatrick for having brought Count von Waldberg to see her, and then, turning to the latter, added graciously that she would be “at home” to him whenever he might deign to call for the purpose of cheering her lonely life by his welcome presence. Frederick assured her that he would frequently avail himself of her permission,and the conversation then turned to European topics and to social scandal both at home and abroad, concerning which the widow appeared [Pg 63] to know much more than might reasonably have been expected from a Hindoo lady living in the seclusion of a Baroda Zenana.
Frederick could not help noticing the very marked impression that he was producing on the widow. She addressed herself almost exclusively to him, and her piercing eyes hardly ever left his face. She insisted on their staying until nightfall, and when Frederick pleaded some urgent business appointment she prevailed on Frederick to allow the colonel to depart alone and to remain behind, at any rate until it was time for the city gates to close. The heat being intense indoors, the widow shortly afterward made a proposal that they should adjourn to the gardens of her palace, and conducted him along a winding path sheltered from the glare of the sun by the dense foliage of the sycamore trees to a fairy-like kiosk, built on a kind of rocky promontory, which seemed to hang out over the river. A gentle breeze made its way through the closed lattices of the windows, and a pink marble fountain perfumed the atmosphere with its jet of rose-water.
Frederick had entered this charming buen retiro a free man. When he left it he was enthralled by fetters which he would find it difficult to sever.
He had been about four months at Baroda when one morning as he was in the act of mounting his pony to ride over to pay his customary visit to the widow a diminutive black boy stealthily slipped a note into his hand. Hastily turning round Frederick recognized the grinning features of Florence's little page, who, after making a profound salaam, disappeared as fast as his legs would carry him. Putting his horse at a walk the young count opened the letter and read the following words:
“I will be this evening, at dusk, in the wood adjoining our bungalow, near the little temple of Jain. Meet me there. I must speak to you alone and without delay. I [Pg 64] have a communication to make to you of such importance that our lives are endangered thereby. Oh, my love, my love! Why are you so cruel?”
With a stifled curse Frederick crushed the note in his hand and thrust it into one of the outside pockets of his jacket. Then, giving his unfortunate pony a vicious dig with his spurs, he started off at a sharp canter, and fifteen minutes later he alighted at the palace of the widow, who, having become insanely jealous, was making his life a perfect burden to him.
On that particular morning she was more than usually fractious and exacting, and it was only by playing the part of an enthusiastic and passionate lover that he could in any way pacify her. When at length he reached home he was in a state of exasperation bordering on frenzy. Flinging himself upon the couch in his room he gave way to a most violent fit of rage. Suddenly remembering Florence's note he put his hand into his pocket, with the object of reading it once more. The letter, however, was gone. It was in vain that he turned all his pockets inside out; the note had disappeared. This caused him a moment of anxiety, but on second thought he remembered that it bore neither signature nor address, and, taking it for granted that it had dropped from his pocket while riding, he dismissed the subject from his mind.
Shortly after sundown he started to walk through the wood to the little temple of Jain where Florence had requested him to meet her. It was a lovely and romantic spot. The small temple, built of delicately chiseled stone forming a kind of open trellis work, was surmounted by nine little carved domes and tiny fretted minarets. All round the building rose half-broken columns, the ruins of a mosque, while huge trees covered the spot with deep shade, and Barbary figs, cactuses and poisonous euphorbias enveloped the ancient stones. Thousands of parrots and [Pg 65] humming birds dwelt in the branches of the sycamores and palms and flew off at the slightest sound. The place was very lonely, and as he approached it there was no sound save the babble of a brook whispering among tall rushes and lotus plants to be heard in the quiet evening air.
Florence, who had been sitting on the fragments of the basalt column, rose to her feet as she saw him coming, and advanced toward him with outstretched hands. She had been a very beautiful girl a few months previous............