"I know the palace well. I know the Turkish queen. I showed the Prince of Wales all Fatehpur Sikri." And then guides grew thick and thicker around us, rising from the very flagstones. They whined in procession after us across the court, and it was easy to make compact with our guide, who was almost exploding with spasms of stuttering wrath at the interlopers. He was to lead us in the straight and direct path of the "Murray book," and receive bakshish in proportion to his success in keeping his rivals away and in omitting his "ladyships."
As we wandered in admiration through the sun-warmed courts, sheltered from the biting blast, our benumbed senses revived, and we warmed to real enthusiasm over this "romance in stone," over all the exquisite fantasies, the veritable maisons bijoux Akbar had built for his favorite wives. The Great Mogul was as eclectic and as far-reaching in his consort collecting as in his religion, and we were shown the house of his Turkish queen Miriam; that of his Christian Portuguese wife; the house of Birbal, his Hindu wife, and a great zenana. Of the same order of lavish ornamentation is the wonderful council-chamber with its central pillar, all these structures carved over every inch of surface with the finest and most intricate ornament, geometrical patterns, and traceries. Outside, inside, over all the walls and ceilings spreads the revel of ornament, and the windows hold perforated stone and marble screens as fine as woven reed-work. This was the real India of the imagination, the setting for "The Nau-
