THE FESTIVAL.

They were always glad in the town of Abibah to have an excuse for festivity of any kind. Such an opportunity, therefore, as the rescue of the troops from the treacherous Phelatahs was not to be lost; and a solemn festival was ordained. Great games were to be celebrated on the occasion--such as throwing the flint hammer, wrestling, running, and a curious game called _mocra_, which was played with large balls of burnt clay. The whole of the inhabitants were to come in gala dresses.

For poor Realmah, this festival could only be an occasion for bringing into full light his deficiencies. He could not wrestle, nor run, nor throw the hammer deftly; and, had he been thoroughly wise, he would have been content to show himself begirt with the _shemar_ which he had won, not by personal prowess, but by his superior thoughtfulness and penetration. But who is altogether wise when he is in love? and Realmah intended to play at the game of _mocra_, which was a game requiring at least as much force and swiftness as skill.

The festival was to be held in a mead close to the border of the shining lake.

On great occasions like the present, the causeways (which were frail narrow structures) connecting Abibah with the shore, were so encumbered, that the bulk of the people went from the city to the land by means of rafts, which were moored close to some public buildings in that part of the city which was farthest removed from the land.

Those of my hearers who have ever seen a drawing of the great city of Mexico, as it existed when discovered by the Spaniards, may form a good notion of the city of Abibah, if they will only diminish in their minds the causeways, and make them approach the city from that side only which was nearest to the shore--the city being, indeed, not farther removed from the land than the spot where the deep water (on which depth the Sheviri placed their safety) commenced. These causeways were merely wooden footpaths placed on piles, and rising up gradually from the dry land till they approached the drawbridges. Of course, when an enemy threatened to invade the city, these wooden pathways were destroyed, the drawbridges were pulled up, and the town then became an island fortress.

It was a beautiful day, and all the population of Abibah, except the sick, came forth to view the games. The victors in these games were to be crowned with wreaths of roses; and four of the principal maidens, amongst whom was Talora, were to distribute the prizes. This would be a great day for Athlah.

Talora appeared radiant with beauty. Realmah’s two wives were also present. The Varnah, as was befitting, was one of those charged with the distribution of the provisions. The obscure Ainah wandered amongst the crowd, with but one object chiefly in her mind,--namely, to speak, if she could, a few words in favour of Realmah to the beautiful Talora.

In all societies, from the most savage to the most civilized, there are heroic deeds which, as they are performed in the most quiet manner, do not count at all as heroism. It would be difficult to estimate what mental suffering it cost the Ainah to praise her husband to the woman whom she knew was the only one he loved; but into whose character she saw with all the sharpness of a woman’s and a rival’s instinct, and knew that it was shallow and valueless.

The great chiefs, placed on a raised bank, sat with almost immovable gravity, surveying the populace, and expressing with faint gestures of applause (for this faintness of approval was a sign of high breeding amongst the Sheviri, as it has been before and since amongst many people) their recognition of any feat of skill or valour that was accomplished.

Many times did Athlah have the good fortune to approach Talora as a victor in some game, and to receive from her the meed of praise and the garland that were due to his success. Realmah, as Athlah sneeringly observed, was of more service to his opponents than to his own side, in the game of _mocra_; and, certainly, was among the least distinguished players in the field.

The Ainah had crept up close to Talora, who, noticing Realmah’s miserable failures, turned to the girl and said, “Your Realmah had better not have made himself absurd by attempting to partake in the games of men.” The Ainah grew pale with anger, and her first thought was to reply, “The Great Spirit does not give all gifts to one man; and, where He has given wisdom, may well deny swiftness:” but she thought that this would be too fine a speech for her, a slave, and might betray the depth of interest she felt in her master. She therefore simply replied: “Our dividers of bread are wise men, and do not give the blue _shemar_ for nothing. Should we have any games at all if it had not been for Realmah’s foresight?”

Talora looked fixedly at the Ainah, and said, “You are proud of him, then?”

“Of course we are,” replied the Ainah, “for is there any young man of his age who is allowed to wear the blue _shemar_?” And then she went into all the details of a seamstress, telling Talora how the Varnah and herself had made this wonderful _shemar_. Talora looked upon her as a useful household drudge, and nothing more, but still was struck with the spirited reply which the girl had made on her Realmah’s behalf.

The two young women talked together for some time; and in the course of the conversation the Ainah contrived, with a heavy heart, but with a most determined soul, to do her duty, introducing many encomiums on the various domestic virtues of Realmah.

This skilful pleading was not without its effect; and Talora, making a sign to Realmah to approach her, said, not unkindly, to him, “You should not have contended in these games; your worth and force lie in another direction. The fox cannot play with the young lions; but yet he may be the wisest beast of the forest.” And Realmah was entirely comforted, for he had expected nothing but scorn from Talora for his manifest and ridiculous failures.