age grace.

Dispossessed of his paternal territory by the English, and at first
detained by them as a state-prisoner after the death of his father--who
(as M. Joshua Van Dael had written to M. Rodin) had fallen sword in
hand--Djalma had at length been restored to liberty. Abandoning the
continent of India, and still accompanied by General Simon, who had
lingered hard by the prison of his old friend's son, the young Indian
came next to Batavia, the birthplace of his mother, to collect the
modest inheritance of his maternal ancestors. And amongst this property,
so long despised or forgotten by his father, he found some important
papers, and a medal exactly similar to that worn by Rose and Blanche.

General Simon was not more surprised than pleased at this discovery,
which not only established a tie of kindred between his wife and
Djalma's mother, but which also seemed to promise great advantages for
the future. Leaving Djalma at Batavia, to terminate some business there,
he had gone to the neighboring island of Sumatra, in the hope of finding
a vessel that would make the passage to Europe directly and rapidly;
for it was now necessary that, cost what it might, the young Indian also
should be at Paris on the 13th February, 1832. Should General Simon
find a vessel ready to sail for Europe, he was to return immediately, to
fetch Djalma; and the latter, expecting him daily, was now going to the
pier of Batavia, hoping to see the father of Rose and Blanche arrive by
the mail boat from Sumatra.

A few words are here necessary on the early life of the son of Kadja
sing.

Having lost his mother very young, and brought up with rude simplicity,
he had accompanied his father, whilst yet a child, to the great tiger
hunts, as dangerous as battles; and, in the first dawn of youth, he had
followed him to the stern bloody war, which he waged in defence of his
country. Thus living, from the time of his mother's death, in the
midst of forests and mountains and continual combats, his vigorous and
ingenuous nature had preserved itself pure, and he well merited the name
of "The Generous" bestowed on him. Born a prince, he was--which by no
means follows--a prince indeed. During the period of his captivity,
the silent dignity of his bearing had overawed his jailers. Never a
reproach, never a complaint--a proud and melancholy calm was all that
he opposed to a treatment as unjust as it was barbarous, until he was
restored to freedom.

Havin