V.
IN MARBLE HALLS.
December 16.
THERE is one place in Delhi, the first sight of which is surely unforgettable. It is enshrined behind the Titanic rose-pink walls of the vast Fort, those huge masses that look as though they were built for all time. You would never dream that such grim portals could conceal a retreat so enchanting. The great battlements tower above you as you enter a formidable gateway, and stand wondering in the centre of a gigantic hall with vaulted roof. It is like the nave of a cathedral. Beyond it, you enter an open space that is called a courtyard, but is the size of a London square. You cross it, advance through another mighty archway and confront the Diwan-i-Am, or Hall of Public Audience. It is hard to realise what is the normal appearance of the Diwan-i-Am, for it has been transformed to serve as the scene of the State Investiture, and afterwards of the State Ball, next month. In other times, you gather, it is an arcade with red stone pillars and engrailed arches, walled on the farthest side only. Now as you approach it the eye only perceives smooth brick-red walls, giving no earnest of splendour within.
