We need not describe them. After the sacrifice of several sheep before the altar, to propitiate the goddess in the form of worship peculiar to lower castes, the Brahmuns continued the rest of the ceremonies. Here were the same recitations of religious books, the Shastras and Poorans; the same processions sweeping round the altar with offerings, and hymns chanted by the priests at stated periods; the same invocations of the deity to be present, as we have already seen in the temple at Tooljapoor; and as they proceeded, shadows lengthened, the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and gloom fell rapidly on the glen and its people.

Very soon, however, it was lighted up; men bearing huge copper vessels of oil on their shoulders, went round the area pouring cans full upon the cotton-seed in the iron cressets, and then lighting them, and a blaze arose from each which illuminated a large space around. Gradually the whole were lit; and the effect was as strange as beautiful.

Tier upon tier of closely-wedged human beings, whose white dresses and gay turbans and scarves appeared even brighter by night than by day, arose on all sides, those nearest the light being clearly seen, while the others, rising gradually to the top, were less and less distinct, till they seemed to blend with the fringe of wood above, and disappear in the gloom. Below, about the place of performance, and around the Rajah's seat, the illumination was brightest; and the thick smoke of incense rising from the altar hung over all like a canopy, diffusing its fragrance to the farthest edges of the assembly. Above, the grim mountain precipices hung threateningly over all, fringed at the top by walls and towers, hardly perceptible in the distance, except where they projected against the sky; and on which, and on the woods, as the night advanced, the bright light of the moon fell with a silvery lustre which our northern climate does not know.

To act a Hindu play is by no means so simple a matter as to act an English one. It frequently lasts several days. On this present occasion it would occupy three nights. There was the introduction, the middle, and the catastrophe. There would be pleasant witty interludes of broad farce between the scenes, acted by the clowns in various characters; satires upon Brahmuns, and priests generally, being a favourite subject: upon landlords and tenants: upon servants and masters: upon lovers—merchants—in short, upon all social topics. There would be political satires also; and the Rajah would see himself represented according to the popular belief, whatever it might be, flatteringly or the contrary, and would take the joke good-humouredly.

So the entertainment proceeded. We, who sit for an hour or two with a languid indifference, or real approbation, as it may be, of theatrical representation here, can hardly appreciate the intense absorption of a Mahratta audience at one of their religious plays, where gods and demigods, represented by clever players and singers, engage in earthly struggles of love or war, and evince human sympathies and passions. So hour after hour passed, and Rajah and people alike sat and listened and watched; now to a grand scene from the Mahabarut or Ramayun; now to a merry farce, or description by the "chorus" of what was to come next; now to a plaintive mountain ballad introduced into the general performance.

It was near midnight, perhaps, when a single horseman suddenly turned the corner of the mound, and, entering the area unperceived, where it was not crowded, rode slowly up the centre. His noble horse seemed jaded and weary, for it moved languidly, yet, when it saw the lights and people, raised its head and gave a shrill and prolonged neigh. Its flanks were smoking, and its coat a mass of foam, proving that it had been ridden hard and fast.

The rider's face was tied up, as is customary with Mahratta horsemen; but as he advanced he unwound the scarf about it, and the stern features and flashing eyes of Tannajee Maloosray appeared to all. For an instant he was not recognized, and his advance, indeed, had hardly been noticed at the upper end of the assembly; but some one who saw him cried "Tannajee!" and the name spread from mouth to mouth, rising into a roar of welcome among the people, as the rider struggled on through the crowd which now pressed about him. Dismounting near the altar, Tannajee gave his horse to a servant; and as Sivaji and all about him rose to meet him, he ascended to the royal seat, and was embraced by his prince in a loving greeting. He had been long absent, and was expected; but his sudden arrival alone, and at that time of night, boded strange tidings; and while his arms were yet around his friend, Sivaji anxiously asked what news he had brought.

"Of sorrow, yet of joy, my prince," replied Maloosray, disengaging himself. "I heard the news at Jutt, and I made a vow which only that altar can clear me of, that I would not sit or rest till I had told it to you and to the people.—Rise, all of ye!" he shouted to the assembly in that voice which, clear and sonorous, they had often heard above the wildest din of battle, "and listen to my words!"

They rose to a man instantly, and with a rustling sound: after which, there was perfect silence. Every face of those thousands was turned towards the speaker. Every form, from the highest tiers to the lowest, bent forward in eager expectation of what should follow.

"Listen," he continued, "O beloved prince and people: we have fallen upon evil days, for the goddess, our Mother, has been insulted, and her temple at Tooljapoor desecrated. Yes," he continued, lifting up his hand to stay the cry which was about to break out, "Afzool Khan has cast down the image of Toolja MÁta, plundered the temple of its wealth, slain the Brahmuns, and sprinkled the blood of sacred cows over the shrine; and now the altar there, and the Mother, are my witness that I have told this grief to ye truly!"

Then burst forth that strange wild cry which the lady mother had heard above in the fort. Some wept, others shrieked and beat their mouths, or cast their turbans on the ground. Individual cries, no matter whether of grief or revenge, were blended into one common roar from those thousands, which ascended to the sky, and, reverberating from side to side of the glen, went out through the woods,—up the mountain-sides and precipices of the fort,—softened by distance,—yet uniting to produce that unearthly yell or wail which had arrested her as she left the shrine, and caused the watching priests to shudder.

Apparently, the people waited to hear from their prince a confirmation of the news, or intimation of what was to be done; for, at a motion of his hand, they were once more silent, and listening with rapt attention.

"I thought the Holy Mother was in sorrow," he said, "for she has hidden her face from me these many days, and my mother too sought her, but in vain. And now we know the reason. O friends! O people! shall it be so? Shall the Mother's temples be desolate? Not while Sivaji BhÓslay lives, and ye live! Better we died in honour than lived to be pointed at as cowards, while she is unrevenged! Listen," he continued, using the same gestures as Tannajee to keep the people quiet, as he took up the sword lying at his feet. "This, ye all know, is named after the Mother; see!" and he drew it slowly from the scabbard, "she hath a bright and lovely face, but it must be dimmed in Moslem blood: let her drink it freely! So I swear, and so ye will answer to my cry—Hur, Hur, Mahadeo!"

As he spoke he flung the scabbard passionately on the ground, and waved the glittering blade high in the air. Already was men's blood fiercely stirred by his words, and the Rajah's action rendered them almost uncontrollable. Not one of all that assembly who wore a sword was there, that did not draw and wave it as his chieftain had done; and the light flashing from polished weapons, and the frantic shouts of the old war-cry, as men swayed to and fro, still more excited the rude soldiery—"Hur, Hur, Mahadeo! DÔnguras-lavilÉ DÉva!"

No wonder that the sound had gone up the lofty mountain, and was the more clearly heard as the Ranee, looking from the tower above, saw far below the heaving masses in the glen, and caught the bright glitter of their weapons.

But there was silence at last. It seemed as if the men expected to be led there and then against their hereditary foes. That, however, was not to be yet. During the clamour, Maloosray had told his chieftain that Afzool Khan's army was on its march, and that means must be taken to oppose it. So the Rajah once again spoke out in those clear ringing tones which were heard by all.

"Not now, my people," he cried—"not now. If we have sworn to revenge the Mother, she will wait her time, and herself deliver this arrogant Moslem into our hands. Then, O my friends, shall she drink infidel blood, and be satisfied to the full. So fear not: if this news is terrible, it is yet good; so let us rejoice that we have the more cause to be united in avenging it. And now sit down once more; and play on, O players! Who shall say that Sivaji BhÓslay and his people were scared from their Kutha by Afzool Khan?"

"That means, my friends," cried Pundree, one of the clowns, after turning a preliminary somersault in the air, then resting his hands on his knees, and wagging his head with mock gravity, "that the master intends to kill the old Khan himself, and that the Mother will eat him. Now, as I am going to eat the sheep that have been killed there, just to save her the trouble, she will be very hungry—very hungry indeed; and if her belly is not filled by Afzool Khan, ye are to kill all his people and satisfy it. Else beware!—No one likes to be hungry, good folks; and I, for one, am always ill-tempered and beat my wife when there is no dinner, or it is badly cooked. I dare say the Mother is much the same, and if she be so, nothing goes right in the world; so see that ye strike hard, my sons, and get plenty of food for her when the master bids ye. Do ye hear? Do ye understand? As for the cooking of it, ye may leave that to the devil; and remember that I, Pundrinath, the son of BoodhenÂth, have told ye all this, and will bear witness against ye and Tannajee Maloosray if ye do it not; and so—beware, beware!"

And then, amidst the laughter caused by the quaint speech and actions of the privileged jester, the play proceeded, while Sivaji heard from his friend Maloosray the tale of the Wuzeer's death, the KÓtwal's execution, and the sack of Tooljapoor.

It was more than ever evident to Sivaji, that to attempt to oppose Afzool Khan in the field with the men about him, would be madness; but he might be drawn on, by specious promises of submission, into wilds where his cavalry and artillery would be useless, and in those jungles the men then present would be ample against ten thousand Mahomedan infantry.

Then it was determined to send those agents to Afzool Khan's camp with whose arrival there we are already acquainted.