"To you, Durga Ram, the throne; to us half the treasury and all the ancient rites of our creed restored." "I have said it." Umballa followed the dancing girl into the square before the temple.
He turned and smiled ironically.

The bald fools! "Lead on, thou flower of the jasmine!" lightly.
And the two of them disappeared into the night.
But the priests smiled, too, for Durga Ram should always be more in their power than they in his.
There was tremendous excitement in the city the next morning.

It seemed that the city would never be permitted to resume its old careless indolence.

Swift as the wind the news flew that the old king was alive, that he had been held prisoner all these months by Durga Ram and the now deposed council of three.

No more the old rut of dulness.
Never had they known such fetes.