"Alla be praised they are pure again!" said I inwardly, as I washed them eagerly with some earth and water. "Brave as I know myself to be, and caring for nothing alive, I would not have gone with Motee-ram and his people, have dug up that body and decollated it,—no, not for the wealth of Delhi. Pah! the idea is horrible." And I arose, and ran again at my utmost speed till I reached the party.
My absence had not been remarked, which was well; and having mounted my horse, I stationed myself near Zora's cart, which was in front. After we had reached the stage, and were resting ourselves for the day, a horseman came from the Aumil with a letter, at which we were all greatly amused. It related how the head had been found and recognized, but at the same time implored me to keep the event secret, in order that the Aumil's friend, the ruler of Nirmul, might gain time to meet the demand caused by the defalcation of the man we had killed. This exactly suited my purpose, as I had now no doubt that I should be able to get the amount of the bills.
On the fifth morning after this we were to reach Hyderabad: it was estimated as seven coss distant, so we did not start so soon as usual; we wished to reach it when the day was well advanced, in order to attract as little attention as possible, for our numbers were considerable. We therefore divided into three parties, one under my father, one under myself, and the other under Surfuraz Khan, a friend of my father whom we had met on the road, and who with his men had been admitted into our company; and we agreed to meet again in the karwan, which was the usual resort of all travellers, and where we were told we should find accommodation in the serais which were used by them. Mine was the first division to move, and my father said he should remain with the baggage, and bring it leisurely along, as he should have to pay the usual duties upon the property we had secured, at the various toll-houses. Accordingly at full daylight we set out. It was a lovely morning, cold, yet not so cold as in our own country, where the frost is often seen on the ground, and the grass feels crisp under the foot of the traveller until the sun rises; still a good shawl was a welcome addition to my usual clothing.
Wreaths of mist spread themselves over some hills to the left of the road, and concealed from our view an immense tank which lay at their foot; while, as a gentle breeze arose, the mists were set in motion, revealing one by onepiles of the most stupendous rocks I had ever seen, and which appeared as though they had been heaped on each other by human agency; I had been struck by these extraordinary rocks on our first entering Telingana, and remarked them now to Bhudrinath; he gave a ready solution to my conjectures as to their origin, "You perhaps have heard of one of our sacred books called the Mahabharut," said he; "in it are related the wars of the gods. The origin of one of them was the forcible carrying off of Sita, the wife of Ram. She was taken to the island of Lanka (Ceylon), and there detained by the rakshas or evil spirits of the place, assisted by the king with powerful armies: they defied Ram, and he was in utter despair at the loss of his beautiful wife, nor could he find any trace of whither she had been carried. You know that Hunooman, our monkey-god, was a wise and astonishing being; in the monkeys of the present day his form only is perpetuated; the intelligence is gone, and cunning alone is left to them. But it is also a sad fact that, like them, mankind has also degenerated, and we are no more like the beings of those days than the present monkeys are like Hunooman. Well, as I was saying, Ram in his perplexity was visited by Hunooman, who pitying his state proposed to go in search of the lost fair one, and accordingly departed. Long did he wander, and at last discovered her in Lanka, in a state of as great distress as he had left her lord in. Quickly he returned with the intelligence, and an army was assembled for the conquest of the island. But a difficulty arose when it reached the end of the land; before them certainly lay Lanka, but a wide and rough sea ran between them, the roaring waves of which appalled the stoutest hearts—nor did even the glorious Ram himself escape the general fear. Boats were not to be procured, and if they had, what would have been their use to transport an army which consisted of millions of god-like beings, each of whom was ten cubits in height! Ram gave himself up to despair; but Hunooman at one bound clearing the channel, quickly returned with assurances that a bridge could soon be constructed, and that he and his companions would labour night and day till it was completed.
"Quick as thought, legions of monkeys departed to the Himalayas. Huge mountains and rocks were torn from their foundations, and transported by relays of these indefatigable beings to the shores of the ocean. One by one they were dropped into it from above, and the splashing of these huge masses is described as terrific, the water ascending to the heavens and extinguishing the stars! At last the bridge was completed, the vast armies marched over it, the country was conquered, and the beauteous Sita restored to the arms of her devoted lord. Now these rocks are part of those brought from the Himalayas, and have remained piled upon each other just as they were set down by the monkeys; for this country being half-way, it was here that the relay was established, and when the bridge was completed, these remained, not being required. To prove the truth of what I have said, (and may Bhugwan grant that no one doubt it!) I must tell you that remains of the bridge are visible to this day. Many pilgrims with whom I have conversed, who had been to Ramisseram, declared that they had gone in boats along the side of the bridge, and traced it by the points of rocks appearing above the water, almost in a direct line from one land to the other, with here and there a small island where the waves have not been able to make an impression: that further, heaps of rocks similar to these are met with in various parts between here and Ramisseram, which no doubt were not required; and you will remark that in no other part of the country north of this do any similar ones appear. There cannot therefore be a stronger proof of the truth of our ancient religion than these hardened witnesses, which will last to the end of the world, to the confusion of all unbelievers and sceptics."
"Mashalla!" said I; "it is a wonderful story, and true enough, for I have heard of the bridge myself. We Moslims have it, that Baba Adam, who was placed by Alla in the paradise of Serendeeb, which is Lanka, got tired one day of his confinement to so small an island; and seeing the main-land at a distance, made the bridge by throwing mountains into the sea, each at seven coss distance, to get there. When it was completed, he easily stepped from one to the other, and so gained the land; but this action displeased Alla, who soon afterwards ejected him from the paradise, and man has been a wanderer ever since."
"Yes," said Bhudrinath: "but is not my story the most probable, especially when you see all these rocks piled up in so extraordinary a manner as if in loads? Why, if a man wanted to carry a heap of stones, he would pile them up in the same way; and see, these are in separate heaps, just as they were laid down, some large, some small, according no doubt to the strength of the parties who bore them."
"Alla ke Qoodrut," exclaimed I,—"it is the power of God. Mashalla! they were great monkeys; it is well we have none of them nowadays, or they would pelt us out of the land."
We passed the village of Ulwal, its white pagoda peeping from among groves of tamarind and mango trees, and its large tank now glistening in the rays of the sun; and pursuing our way, we saw, on passing a ridge of rocks, the camp of the army at the far-famed Hoossain Sagor, or, as it is more often called, Secunderabad. The tents of the English force glittered in the bright sun, and behind them lay a vast sheet of blue water. We had heard much of this lake from many persons on our journey, and as we passed it a strong breeze had arisen, and the surface was curled into a thousand waves, whose white crests as they broke sparkled like diamonds, and threw their spray into our faces as they dashed against the stonework of the embankment. We stood a long time gazing upon the beautiful prospect, so new to us all, and wondering whether the sea, of which we had heard so much, could be anything like what was before us. I have since then, Sahib, twice seen the sea; I need not attempt to describe it, for you have sailed over it; but when I saw it first, methought I could have fallen down and worshiped it, it appeared so illimitable, its edge touching as it were the heavens, and spread out into an expanse which the utmost stretch of my imagination could not compass,—a fit type, I thought, of the God of all people, whom every one thinks on, while the hoarse roar of the waves as they rolled on, mountain after mountain, and broke in angry fury against the shore, seemed to be a voice of Omnipotence which could not fail to awaken emotions of awe and dread in the most callous and unobservant!
We passed the embankment of the tank. As yet we had seen nothing of the city; but there was a ridge not far off, and as we ascended it I could no longer control my impatience. I spurred my horse, and before I reached the top shut my eyes, that whatever was before me might burst upon my view at once. My horse slackened his pace when he reached the top, and allowing him to go on a few steps I opened my eyes, and glorious indeed was the prospect before me. Beneath lay Hyderabad, the object of many a conjecture, of many an ardent desire to reach it—the first city of the Dukhun, justly celebrated throughout the countries I had passed. I had imagined it, like every other I had seen, to be in the midst of a plain, and that all that would be visible of it would be here and there a minaret rising out of large groves of trees: but Hyderabad presented a different aspect. I stood on the crest of a gentle slope, which to my right hand was broken at some distance by rude, rocky hills, and to the left appeared gradually to descend into a plain, which stretched away almost uninterruptedly to the horizon. Before me, on the gentle rise of the valley, and beyond where I supposed the river to be, lay the city, its white terraced houses gleaming brightly in the sunlight from amidst what seemed to me at the distance almost a forest of trees. The Char Minar and Mecca Musjid rose proudly from the masses of buildings by which they were surrounded; and here and there a white dome, with its bright gilt spire, marked the tomb of some favourite or holy saint, while smaller mosques, I might say in hundreds, were known by their slender white minarets.
Beyond the city rose another connected chain of rocky hills, which ran along until they met those on the right hand, and shut in the valley on that side. The city seemed to be of immense extent; but I thought from the number of trees that it was composed principally of gardens and inclosures, and was much surprised afterwards, when I entered it, to find its streets so filled with houses, and the whole so thickly peopled. It was altogether a mostlovely scene: the freshness of the morning, the pureness of the air, and the glittering effect of the city and its buildings caused an impression which can never be effaced from my memory. I have seen it since, and though it is ever truly beautiful, it never struck me as it did that day. But I was then young, full of spirits, and flushed with the consciousness of my own powers, just developing, and assuring me that they would lead me to eminence.
One by one, as the Thugs came up, each ejaculated his praise of the beautiful scene, and all declared that the capital was worthy of the encomiums they had heard lavished on it. Inquiring the nearest road to the karwan, we descended the slope, and threading our way through numberless suburbs we reached the place, and were at the end of our journey. We were grateful for it, and for the protection and success we had met with. We took up our abode for the present in a serai which surrounded a large and richly ornamented mosque; and for our greater convenience I went in search of an untenanted house, and after some difficulty succeeded in hiring a small place, the property of a merchant who resided next door. It contained only three rooms, and the verandah, which was the shop; but it was enough for my father and myself, and there was a small room with a strong door, in which we stowed away all our plunder. Zora was overjoyed at reaching the place of her birth, and what was in reality her home, and could talk of nothing but the delight of meeting with her relatives and friends, and the surprise her arrival would excite in them all, as she said they had considered her lost to them ever since the Nuwab had carried her off. The almost certainty of her being separated from me as soon as she was again in their power never occurred to her, and I determined that before she visited them I would lay all my fears before her, convinced that her affection for me would be the best guide for her conduct.
Our landlord the merchant was very civil and attentive to our wants, though his civility evidently proceeded in a great measure from curiosity as to who we were and what was our object. I stated to him in a few words our old story—of my father being a merchant, and myself a soldier of fortune who had accompanied him in search of employment. He was now curious to know of what my father's stock in trade consisted; but we were resolutely silent upon the subject, although he offered his agency to dispose of our goods. "For," said my father to me afterwards, "our goods I know are valuable, and I know not their worth; nor have we as yet opened the bales; we will do so to-morrow morning, and assort them: we will then go into the city to the shops of the sahoukars, and inquire for articles similar to them, find out their prices, and by this means be enabled to value our own. Were we to offer them in ignorance of their market prices, we might be suspected; and though we may not get what they are intrinsically worth, we shall no doubt be able to sell the whole for a handsome sum."
I agreed with him perfectly, and the next morning we set to work to open the bales. Their contents were indeed costly,—brocades, cloth of gold, fine muslin scarfs, also woven with gold and silver patterns, plain muslins, and a few shawls, besides fine cloths of different kinds for wearing-apparel, and sarees with silk and tissue borders, the latter from the looms of Nagpoor. These and the jewels in our possession, when laid out and assorted, made a display on which we feasted our eyes for some time, wondering at their magnificence; and after I had made an inventory of the whole, my father and myself, attired in handsome clothes and mounted on the best of our horses, attended by a few of the men, took our way into the city. Crossing over an old but massive bridge, below which ran the river, now a shallow stream, we entered by the gate at the head of it, and inquiring our way went direct to the chowke, or market-place, where we trusted we should find goods exposed for sale similar to our own. The streets were narrow and dirty, and the interior of the city certainly did not answer the expectations we had formed from its outside and distant appearance; still there were evident tokens of its wealth in the numbers of elephants, on the backs of which, in canopied umbaras, sat noblemen or gentlemen, attended by their armed retainers. Crowds of well-dressed persons paraded the streets, and as the festival of the Mohorum had just commenced, cries of "Hassan! Hoosein! Doola! Deen! Deen!" and a thousand others familiar to us resounded on every side.
We made our way as well as we could through the throng, and our attendants were often obliged to clear us a passage, which exposed them to the jeers and abuse of the multitude, as they were recognized as strangers from their dress and language. Once or twice I observed a hand laid on a sword by some respectable person who had been jostled or pushed by our men, and heard a deep threat muttered; but we managed to get along, and at length came to a broader street, where the crowd was less dense; and here that noble building, the Char Minar, burst at once upon our view. "How grand!" I exclaimed, stopping my horse and looking up to the huge minarets, which seemed to pierce the clouds; "to see this alone is worth a journey from Delhi." The minarets formed the four corners of the building, and from them sprang immense arches which supported a roof, upon the top of which a small mosque was built. It did not look capable of supporting the immense weight of the whole, and yet it had stood for centuries, and the fabric was unimpaired.
"It is the hour of prayer," said my father, interrupting my gaze; "and hark! the Muezzin calls from the Mecca mosque; thither we will now proceed, and afterwards transact our business."
I followed him, and passing by the Char Minar, we turned up a street to our right, and stopped our horses at the gate of the mosque. A feeling of awe mingled with admiration came over me as we entered the court-yard and advanced along a raised causeway to the foot of a flight of steps which led up to the interior. On either side of us were the graves of princes and nobles, many of them of elegant forms and richly carved; but the building itself engrossed my entire admiration. Five lofty and wide arches opened to view the interior of the edifice, where an equal number appeared in depth; and where the arches met, the eye was perplexed by the innumerable points and ornaments, which, running into each other, completed a roof of exquisite design and workmanship. To add to its beauty, the whole was of stone, carefully smoothed, whereas the Char Minar and the other buildings I had as yet seen were of stucco.
But I had little time to observe more; the sonorous and melancholy call of the Muezzin had ended, and the few attendants for the afternoon prayer had spread their carpets and commenced their devotions. We joined them, and, kneeling on our outspread waistbands, went through the usual forms, while the low murmur of the prayers of all ascended to the fretted roof and added to the solemnity of the scene. To the majority of those present there was perhaps nothing new or uncommon; but I, who had escaped the dangers of our journey and those attendant on our profession, felt that it went to my heart; and, murderer as I was, though not as yet callous, I was softened, and my tears flowed fast as I repeated the words of prayer, and the impressive language of the blessed Koran in which they were couched. The ceremony concluded, we rose; and though I was well disposed to linger in the sacred edifice and observe more of its beauties, my father hurried me away, and we returned to the Char Minar.
"Here," said my father, "those useful rogues the dullals are to be met with. They will try to cheat us, no doubt, as it is their trade; but as we are not purchasers, we may avail ourselves of their aid to find out the houses of the merchants who deal in our articles, and it may be that the fellow we fix on will be intelligent and assist us to dispose of our property." We stopped on reaching the building, the lower part of which was sadly disfigured by numbers of wretched huts and stalls, where venders of vegetables and sweetmeats sat, and served out their goods to the passers-by. My father, calling to a decent-looking young Hindoo, of intelligent countenance, asked him where he could meet with a dullal, as he was a stranger in the city, and wished to see some clothes and other goods, which he did not know where to find.
"I am one at your service, noble sir," he replied; "and I know well the richest warehouses, and can lead you to any you wish; and," added he, "there is not a sahoukar or dealer in the city who will not readily give your poor servant, Moheno Das, a character for sobriety and trustworthiness."
"You had better not say much of your good qualities till they have been proved," said my father; "your tribe has not the best reputation on these points."
"Ah," said the man, "my lord is well aware of what (alas that I should say it!) the majority of our tribe are—a sad set; nevertheless, his slave will not be found to be like them, for having begun by being honest, he has not found it worth his while to be otherwise."
"That is as much as to say you would be dishonest if it suited your interests," said I; "but come, the day wears fast, and we are anxious to be out of this crowd before dark."
The fellow gave me a knowing look, accompanied by a shrug of his shoulders, which could not be mistaken; what I had said had proved to him that we were on our guard. "What description of goods may you be in search of?" said he; "any may be procured, from the shawls of Cashmere and brocades of Benares to the meanest article."
"Benares fabrics are what we require," said I; "a few handsome roomals and doputtas, and a turban or two, to adorn ourselves for the minister's durbar."
"You shall see them," said the dullal, girding his shawl about his waist. "Now follow me, and keep a good eye on me, lest you lose me in the crowd." And so saying, he descended the steps of the building, and led us along some of the principal streets, till we dived into an obscure alley, and stopped at the door of a house which certainly promised nothing from its exterior.
"A very unsatisfactory search we should have had," said I to my father, "had we endeavoured to find out a merchant ourselves. It is well we took this fellow with us."
"These merchants, I have heard, usually choose these secluded places on account of their security," replied my father. "It would not do in a lawless place like this to expose goods for sale as they do in other cities. But they are well known, and easily found out by strangers if they apply to the dullals as we have done."
We were ushered into the interior of the house, and were received by a large fat man, the very counterpart of the sahoukar I had killed. I started involuntarily at the resemblance; but soon recovering myself, and assured by his civility, I seated myself, as did also my father, and we quickly entered on the object of our visit. One by one bales were opened and their contents spread before us. The sahoukar's stock seemed to be interminable and of great value. We selected several articles, and inquiring the prices of those which we inspected, of which I made memorandums, we desired them to be kept for us, saying that we would call the next day with money to pay for them. The sahoukar pressed us to take them with us, and the dullal offered his security for us; but for obvious reasons we declined, and took our leave of the merchant.
The dullal accompanied us as far as the Char Minar, where my father, slipping a piece of money into his hands for his trouble, told him we now knew our way home, and bid him come early in the morning to the karwan, and inquire for the house of Rugonath Das Sahoukar, where he would get tidings of us. "So far I am satisfied," said my father; "our goods, as you will have observed, are equal in quality to those we saw, and by the prices affixed to them we have a good earnest of a large sum of money, if we can only dispose of them, a matter I apprehend of no difficulty if properly managed."
The next morning came the dullal. "Canst thou be secret?" asked my father at once, and throwing him a couple of rupees. The fellow started and trembled.
"If such is my lord's will," said he, his teeth almost chattering with fear, "I can; but I am a poor man, a very inoffensive man. I am my lord's slave, and rub my nose on his feet," cried he at last, fairly throwing himself on the ground and rubbing his forehead against the ground, as he saw my father's brow contracting, and his face assuming an expression of anger at the evident suspicion which the man had of us.
"Why," cried my father, as the fellow lay on the floor whimpering, "what is this? what chicken-hearted son of a vile woman art thou? In the name of Alla get up! Because a man who, Inshalla! is somebody, asks thee whether thou canst be secret, must thou of necessity think thou art going to have thy throat cut?"
"Do not talk of it," cried the wretch, shutting his eyes and shuddering. "Iam a poor man and a miserable Hindoo; what would my lord get by cutting my throat?"
"Nay," said my father, "this is beyond bearing; the fellow has not the soul of a flea. Kick him out into the street, and beat him on the mouth with a slipper: there are plenty of dullals to be found beside him."
"Pardon, noble sir!" cried the fellow—the mention of his trade leading him to suppose that he was required in the way of his calling—"pardon my foolishness. My lord's threatening aspect turned my liver into water; but now that he smiles again, I am assured that no harm is meant."
"Harm! surely not to such a wretch as thou," said my father; "but since thou art inclined to listen to reason, sit down, and hear what we have to say to thee."
"I can be secret," cried the dullal; "let my lord speak."
"It will fare badly with thee if thou art not," said my father, again looking grimly at him: "but listen. I am a merchant; I have never been at this city before; but hearing at Delhi that an investment of valuable goods, such as we saw yesterday, was likely to sell well here, I have brought one down with me. I knew not the selling prices here, and therefore engaged thee to show me some goods, that I might be able to regulate the sale of my own. Now, canst thou manage it for me?"
"Surely, surely," said the fellow in delight, "nothing is more easy. My lord will not, of course, forget my perquisites on the sale?"
"Thou shalt have five rupees in every hundred's worth disposed of," said my father: "will this content thee?"
"It is a princely offer, and worthy of my lord's generosity," said the dullal. "Might I be permitted to see the goods?"
"It is necessary that you should see them, and here they are," rejoined my father; and he opened the door of the room where they were, and one by one displayed the contents of the bales.
"This is indeed a rich stock," said the dullal; "you may be able to sell most of the cloths, but I question whether the whole, without you intend to remain here some time."
"That depends upon circumstances over which I have no control," said my father; "if I cannot sell them all here, I shall take what remains to Poona."
"Well," said the man, "if I am permitted, I will make memorandums of all that there is here, and in the course of to-morrow will let you know what can be done. I cannot do so earlier, for I shall have to visit all the dealers."
"Do what you think best," said my father, "and here are ten rupees for your expenses. Now begone, and let me see you again at this time to-morrow." The fellow made many salams and took his leave.
"Did you ever see so pitiful a wretch?" said my father. "For two cowrees I would have strangled him on the spot, to put an end to so disgraceful a coward."
"Let him pass," said I; "he is but a Hindoo, and not worth thinking of. But you are not going to let him off with all the money you have promised him?"
"Of course not," replied my father; "you understand, I suppose, what is to be done?"
"Perfectly," said I; "leave him to me."
I went to Zora, my own gentle Zora. She had been speaking much of visiting her kindred, and though I had put her off as well as I could since we arrived, I saw with concern that I had no longer any pretext for detaining her. I could have fled with her—I think I could. Such was the intensity of my love for her, that, had I had the courage to speak of flight and she had agreed to accompany me, I verily believe I should have forsaken father, associates, and profession, and committed myself to the world. And if I had, said the Thug, musing, should I have been worse off than I am now? should I ever have worn these disgraceful fetters? have ever doomed myself to perpetual imprisonment and a state of existence which I would to heaven were ended, and should be ended, but that I have (and I curse myself for it), a mean, base, aye, cowardly lingering for life! Sahib, I tell you it would have been well for me had I then fled—fledfrom guilt and crime, into which I daily plunged deeper. With my soldierlike figure, my address, my skill in the use of arms, I might have gained honourable service; I might have led armies, or have met a soldier's death on some battle-field! But it was not so written; it was not my fate, and I am what I am—a curse to myself, and to all with whom I have ever been connected.
Zora! she thought not of my anxiety; all she hoped for, cared for now, was to see her mother and her sister. She assailed me with importunities that I would send her, and assured me that she would not be long absent, but go to them she must; they would so rejoice to see her again, and would welcome me as her deliverer. After seeing them she would return to me, and we should never again be parted. "Alas!" I said, "my Zora, you know not what you ask. Do you think that those charms are of no value to your mother and sister? You have owned to me that you are far more beautiful and attractive than any of those you are connected with. In your absence they will have sunk into obscurity, and they will hail your return as the earnest of more wealth and more distinction."
"Nay, these are cruel words, my beloved," she replied; "you well know that I have never deceived you, and that, as true as that I breathe, my soul is yours for ever. So let me go, I pray you, and in a few hours I shall be again with you, and pressed to your honoured breast."
"Be it so," said I, sadly; for though I hardly dared think it, I felt as if this was our parting for ever. "Go, then; and if you return not, I will come to you by the evening." A covered zenana cart was easily hired; and the driver seeming perfectly to understand where she wished to go, she stepped joyfully into it, attended by her old servant, and, with two of my men to attend her, she left me.
They soon returned; but they knew nothing, save that there was great joy in the house when her relatives saw her. Towards evening I could no longer control my impatience; and, taking one of them with me, I mounted my horse and rode to her house. It was situated nearly opposite a fountain, which is in the centre of the street below the Char Minar, and I had passed it the day before. I was easily admitted; and oh! what joy was evinced when I entered the room where Zora, her sister, and mother were seated. "He is come!" cried my poor girl, and she rushed into my arms. She strained me to her breast for an instant, and then, holding me from her, "Look, mother!" she cried; "look on him; is he not as I said—is he not as beautiful and brave!"
The old lady approached me, and, passing her hands over my face, cracked her knuckles, and every joint of her fingers, by pressing the backs of her hands against her temples, while the tears ran down her cheeks. This she did as often as there was a joint to crack; and then she caught me in her arms and hugged me, crying at the same time like a child. The sister received me, I thought, rather coldly. Had I been less handsome, perhaps, she would have been more cordial; she did not seem to like Zora's having so handsome a lover.
"May the blessing of the Prophet and the twelve Imams be on you and your posterity!" cried the old lady, when she had recovered breath to speak. "May the gracious Alla keep you in his protection, and may the lady Muriam and the holy Moula-ali bless you! You have made a desolate house full again, and have changed our weeping to joy. What can I say more? Who could have thought it was our Zora when a cart stopped at the door? Zenatbee was just saying that it was that vile wretch Sukeena, come to pretend condolence, while in reality she rejoiced at our misfortune, which left her without a rival; and I was saying—no matter what I was saying—when we heard a faint cry, as if of astonishment, and a bustle, and we did not know what to think; when in rushed our lost Zora, our pearl, our diamond; and then I thought my old heart would break with joy, for my liver seemed to be melted; and I have done nothing since, Meer Sahib, but sit opposite to her, and stroke her face with my hands, and gaze into her eyes, to assure myself that I am not mistaken. Inshalla! to-morrow I will send five rupees to every shrine in the city, and distribute sweetmeats to fifty beggars in the name of the Imam Zamin; besides, I will have a tazea made, and will no longer wear these mourning garments. Ah! Meer Sahib, if you knew how I have sat day after day, and wept till I am reduced to a mere shadow of what I was! and all my friends tried to consoleme, but in vain; I would not be comforted." And her tears flowed afresh at the recollection.
What the old lady was before her grief commenced I cannot pretend to say; but in her present plight she appeared the fattest woman I had ever looked upon. We sat conversing and relating our adventures until the evening fell; and I spread my carpet for prayer. "Ah, he is a good Syud," said the old woman; "I like to see the young fond of their devotions; but it is ever thus with the noble race from Hindostan."
I was preparing to take my departure, when they one and all cried out against it. "What! leave our house before you have broken bread and drunk water with us?" It was not to be thought of—I must stay—dinner was prepared; they were just on the point of sending for me when I came; and, above all, it was the ninth day of the Mohorum; and I must stay, were it but to see the procession of the Nal Sahib. That sacred relic, one of the shoes of the horse the blessed Prophet rode when he fled to Medina, would be carried in grand procession, and I should never have a chance of seeing the like again. These reasons, and many imploring looks from Zora made me speedily determine; so, sending away my horse and the man, with a message to my father to say I should not return, I gave myself up to a night of enjoyment, such as I little expected when I parted with Zora in the morning. The dinner was excellent, and the old lady's cooking unexceptionable. There were all sorts of curries, with but a mouthful in each little cup, but still sufficient of each to leave an exquisite flavour in the mouth, only to be replaced by another surpassing it—pilaus of various kinds, and sweetmeats; and, to crown all, some delicious wine of the infidels called the Francees, which the old lady pronounced not to be wine, but sherbet, and allowed to the Huzoor himself, the great Sikundur Jah. It certainly was very delicious, and elevated the spirits. At the end, after taking a whiff or two, she carefully wiped the mouth-piece, and presented me with her own hookah, the fragrance of which was beyond that of ambergris or musk. I was in paradise!—I was intensely happy!
"You have heard me sing," said Zora to me, "when I was in captivity, and, after the fatigues of travel, in our little tent, where there was no scope for my voice; now my heart is glad and bounding, and you shall hear me again—may the Prophet pardon me for singing during the Mohorum!—and you shall say which you like best; my sister shall accompany me till I am tired, and I will then accompany her."
A saringhee was brought; Zenat tuned it, and, taking the bow, played a short prelude. It was one of the most entrancing sounds I had ever heard. Zora surpassed all her former attempts; it was ravishing to listen to her; and her sister, who was a perfect mistress of the instrument (a strange thing for a woman), gave it its full force of melody and expression. You know, Sahib, how nearly it accords to the human voice; and now, as accompaniment and song rose and fell together, it appeared as though two of the richest, fullest voices were pouring forth strains such as angels might have come down from the skies to hear.
But at last the noise of drums and shouting outside became so great, that both gave up in despair. "A plague on them all," said she; "and I in such voice, that I could have sung to you all night! And have I sung well?"
"Ay, have you," said I; "but methinks the first song you ever sung to me, at the palace in Oomerkhér, will dwell longer on my memory than any I have heard since."
"Ya Alla!" exclaimed Zenat who had moved to the window; "was there ever a sight so magnificent! Come and see; 'tis passing fast, and will be soon out of sight."
Zenat's exclamation drew us to the window. "Quick!" she said; "look out, or you will lose the sight; they are even now passing the Char Minar." We did look out, and the sight was indeed magnificent. A crowd of some hundreds of people were escorting a Punjah, that holy symbol of our faith;most of them were armed, and their naked weapons gleamed brightly in the light of numberless torches which were elevated on lofty bamboos; others bore aftab-geers, made of silver and gold tinsel, with deep fringes of the same, which glittered and sparkled as they were waved to and fro by the movements of those who carried them. But the object the most striking of all was the Char Minar itself, as the procession passed under it; the light of the torches illuminated it from top to bottom, and my gaze was riveted, as though it had suddenly and startlingly sprung into existence.
The procession passed on, and all once more relapsed into gloom: the Char Minar was no longer visible to the eye, dazzled as it had been by the lights; but as it became more accustomed to the darkness, the building gradually revealed itself, dim and shadowy, its huge white surface looking like a spectre, or, I could fancy, like one of the mysterious inhabitants of the air whom, we are told, Suleeman-ibn-Daood and other sages had under their command, and were thus enabled to describe. Again, as we gazed, another procession would pass, and a sudden flash as of lightning would cause the same effect; interior and exterior of the edifice were as bright, far brighter they seemed, than at noonday. I was enraptured. Zenat had left us to ourselves, and we sat, my arm around my beloved, while she nestled close to me, and we murmured to each other those vows of love which hearts like ours could alone frame and give utterance to. Long did we sit thus—Sahib, I know not how long—the hours fled like moments.
"Look!" cried Zora, "look at that mighty gathering in the street below us; they are now lighting the torches, and the procession of the Nal Sahib will presently come forth." I had not observed it, though I had heard the hum of voices; the gloom of the street had hitherto prevented my distinguishing anything; but as torch after torch was lighted and raised aloft on immense poles, the sea of human heads revealed itself. There were thousands. The street was so packed from side to side, that to move was impossible; the mass was closely wedged together, and we waited impatiently for the time when it should be put in motion, to make the tour of the city.
One by one the processions we had seen pass before us ranged themselves in front, and as they joined together, who can describe the splendour of the effect of the thousands of torches, the thousands of aftab-geers, of flags and pennons of all descriptions, the hundreds of elephants, gaily caparisoned, bearing on their backs their noble owners, clad in the richest apparel, attended by their armed retainers and spearmen, some stationary, others moving to and fro, amidst the vast mass of human beings! One elephant in particular I remarked,—a noble animal, bearing a large silver umbara in which sat four boys, doubtless the sons of some nobleman from the number of attendants which surrounded them. The animal was evidently much excited, whether by the noise, the lights, and the crowd, or whether he wasmust, I cannot say; but the Mahout seemed to have great difficulty in keeping him quiet, and often dug his ankoos into the brute's head with great force, which made him lift his trunk into the air and bellow with pain. I saw the Mahout was enraged, and, from the gestures of some of the persons near, could guess that they were advising him to be gentle; but the animal became more restive, and I feared there would be some accident, as the Mahout only punished him the more severely. At last, by some unlucky chance, the blazing part of a torch fell from the pole upon which it was raised on the elephant's back; he screamed out with the sudden pain, and raising his trunk, rushed into the crowd.
Ya Alla what a sight it was! Hundreds, as they vainly endeavoured to get out of the way, only wedged themselves closer together, shrieks and screams rent the air; but the most fearful sight was, when the maddened beast, unable to make his way through the press, seized on an unfortunate wretch by the waist with his trunk, and whirling him high in the air dashed him against the ground, and then kneeling down crushed him to a mummy with his tusks. Involuntarily I turned away my head; the sight was sickening, and it was just under me. When I looked again, the brute, apparently satisfied, was standing quiet, and immediately afterwards was driven away; the body of the unfortunateman was carried off and deposited in a neighbouring shop; and all again became quiet.
All at once the multitude broke out into deafening shouts of "Hassan! Hoosein! Deen! Deen!" the hoarse roar of which was mingled with the beating of immense nagaras. The sound was deafening, yet most impressive. The multitude became agitated; every face was at once turned towards the portal from which the sacred relic was about to issue, and it came forth in another instant amidst the sudden blaze of a thousand blue lights. I turned my eye to the Char Minar. If it had looked brilliant by the torch-light, how much more so did it now! The pale sulphureous glare caused its white surface to glitter like silver; high in the air the white minarets gleamed with intense brightness; and, as it stood out against the deep blue of the sky, it seemed to be a sudden creation of the genii—so grand, so unearthly,—while the numberless torches, overpowered by the superior brightness of the fireworks, gave a dim and lurid light through their smoke, which, as there was not a breath of wind, hung over them.
All at once a numberless flight of rockets from the top of the Char Minar sprung hissing into the sky, and at an immense height, far above the tops of the minarets, burst almost simultaneously, and descended in a shower of brilliant blue balls. There was a breathless silence for a moment, as every eye was upturned to watch their descent, for the effect was overpowering. But again the shouts arose, the multitude swayed to and fro like the waves of a troubled sea; every one turned towards the Char Minar, and in a few instants the living mass was in motion. It moved slowly at first, but the pressure from behind was so great that those in front were obliged to run; gradually, however, the mighty tide flowed along at a more measured pace, and it seemed endless. Host after host poured through the narrow street; men of all countries, most of them bearing naked weapons which flashed in the torch-light, were ranged in ranks, shouting the cries of the faith: others in the garbs of Fakeers chanted wild hymns of the death of the blessed martyrs; others again in fantastic dresses formed themselves into groups, and, as they ran rather than walked along, performed strange and uncouth antics; some were painted from head to foot with different colours; others had hung bells to their ancles, shoulders, and elbows, which jingled as they walked or danced; here and there would be seen a man painted like a tiger, a rope passed round his waist, which was held by three or four others, while the tiger made desperate leaps and charges into the crowd, which were received with shouts of merriment.
Some, again, were dressed in sheepskins, to imitate bears; others were monkeys, with enormous tails, and they grinned and mowed at the crowd which surrounded them. Now, some nobleman would scatter from his elephant showers of pice or cowrees among the crowd below him; and it was fearful, though amusing, to watch the eager scramble and the desperate exertions of those undermost to extricate themselves,—not unattended by severe bruises and hurts. Bodies of Arabs, singing their wild war-songs, firing their matchlocks in the air, and flourishing their naked swords and jumbeas, joined the throng, and immediately preceded the holy relic, which at last came up. It was carried on a cushion of cloth of gold, covered by a small canopy of silver tissue; the canopy and its deep silver fringes glittering in the blaze of innumerable torches. Moolas, dressed in long robes, walked slowly before, singing the Moonakib and the Murceas. Men waved enormous chourees of the feathers of peacocks' tails; incense burned on the platform of the canopy, and sent up its fragrant cloud of smoke; and handfuls of the sweet ubeer were showered upon the cushion by all who could by any means or exertions get near enough to reach it.
Gradually and slowly the whole passed by. Who can describe its magnificence? Such a scene must be seen to be felt! I sayfelt, Sahib, for who could see a mighty multitude like that, collected for a holy purpose with one heart, one soul, without emotion? Hours we sat there gazing on the spectacle; we scarcely spoke, so absorbed were we by the interest of the scene below us. At length, however, the whole had passed, and the street was left to loneliness and darkness; the few forms which flitted along here and therelooked more like the restless spirits of a burial-ground than human beings; and the silence was only now and then broken by a solitary Fakeer, his bells tinkling as he hurried along to join the great procession, the roar of which was heard far and faintly in the distance.
Just as we were about to retire, a number of men formed themselves into a circle around a pit in which were a few lighted embers; but some bundles of grass were thrown on them—the light blazed up, and, drawing their swords, they danced round and round the fire, waving their weapons, while all shouted aloud in hoarse voices the names of the blessed martyrs. The blazing fire in the centre lighted up their wild forms and gestures as they danced, tossing their arms wildly in the air. Now they stood still and swayed to and fro, while the fire died away and they were scarcely perceptible. Again more fuel was thrown on, the red blaze sprung up far above their heads, and their wild round was renewed with fresh spirit.
The night was now far spent, and the chill breeze which arose warned us to retire. Indeed Zenat and her mother had done so long before, and we were left to ourselves. Sahib, that was the last night I passed with my beloved, and the whole of our intercourse remains on my memory like the impression of a pleasing dream, on which I delight often to dwell, to conjure up the scenes and conversations of years past and gone—years of wild adventure, of trial, of sorrow, and of crime.
I can picture to myself my Zora as I parted from her on the following morning; I can again hear her protestations of unalterable love, her entreaties that I would soon return to her; and above all I remember her surpassing loveliness, and the look of anguish, I might call it, with which she followed me as I left her, after one long, passionate embrace. These impressions, I say, still linger on a mind which has been rendered callous by crime, by an habitual system of deception, and by my rude intercourse with the world—my deadliest enemy; and they are refreshing and soothing, because I have no wrong toward her to charge myself with. I rescued her; she loved me, and I loved her too; we wanted nought but a longer intercourse to have strengthened that affection, which would have lasted till death. But why should I talk thus? Why should I, a convicted felon and murderer, linger on the description of such scenes and thoughts? Sahib, I have done with them; I will tell you of sterner things—of the further adventures of my life.
I returned to my father; he was not angry at my absence; and I found Mohun Das, the Dullal, closeted with him, and also another sahoukar-looking person. Mohun Das had been eminently successful; the sahoukar I saw was the assistant in a wealthy house who had need of all our goods, and he was come to see them before the bargain was finally closed. They were displayed to him, both goods and jewels; he approved of all, said he would return shortly with an offer for them, and having made a list of the whole he departed.
"Now," said Mohun Das, "about the price; what do you ask?"
"You know better than I do," said my father, "therefore do you speak; and remember, the more they sell for the more you get."
"I have not forgotten your munificence," said the Dullal; "and I say at once the cloths are worth sixteen, and the jewels ten thousand rupees; but you must ask thirty thousand,—you will get twenty-five I dare say."
"It is too little," said my father; "they cost me nearly that sum; and how am I to pay my guards if I get no profit? I shall ask thirty-five for the whole."
"Well," said the Dullal, "if you do, so much the better for me; but mark what I say, you will get no more than my valuation; however, if you will trust me, and leave it to my judgment, I will get a fair price."
"I will; but recollect, twenty-five thousand is the least."
"Certainly," said the Dullal; "I go to do your bidding."
"Go," said my father; "Alla Hafiz! be sure you return quickly."
It was noon before he returned, but it was with a joyful face when he did come. After many profound salams, he exclaimed to my father, "You have indeed been fortunate; your good destiny has gained you a good bargain. I have got thirty thousand six hundred rupees for the whole. We had a longfight about it, and wasted much breath; but, blessed be Narayun! your slave has been successful,—see, here is the Sahoukar's acknowledgment."
My father took it and pretended to read; I was near laughing outright at his gravity as he took the paper and pored over the crabbed Hindee characters, of which he did not understand one,—nor indeed any other; for he could neither read nor write. "Yes," said he, gravely, "it is satisfactory. Now, how am I to be paid?"
"The Sahoukar will arrange that with you in any way you please," said the Dullal; "ready money or bills are equally at your service; but as all transactions are generally at six months' credit, the interest for that time, at the usual rate, will be deducted."
"And if I take bills, I suppose the interest will be allowed till I reach Benares, or whatever place I may take them upon?"
"Certainly."
"Good," continued my father; "do you attend here with the Sahoukar, and we will settle all about it, and he can take away the merchandize whenever he pleases." So the Dullal departed.
It was now about the time when the tazeas were to be brought to the edge of the river to be thrown into the water; and, as the Karwan was not far from the spot, I proposed to my father to send for our horses and ride thither to see the sight. He agreed; the horses were quickly brought, and we rode to the bridge over which the road passes into the city. Taking our stand upon it, we beheld beneath us the various and motley groups in the bed of the river; there were thousands assembled; the banks of the river and the bed were full,—so full, it seemed as if you might have walked upon the heads of the multitude. The aftab-geers, and the tinsel of the various tazeas, glittered in the afternoon sun,—the endless variety of colours of the dresses had a cheerful and gay effect; and, though it was nothing to the grand appearance of the procession at night, still it was worth looking at. The tazeas were brought one by one by the various tribes or neighbourhoods to which they belonged, and thrown into the pools in the bed of the river, for deep water there was none, but there was sufficient for the purpose; and as each glittering fabric was cast in, it was assailed by hundreds of little ragged urchins, who quickly tore the whole to pieces for the sake of the ornaments; and there was many a warm contest and scramble over these remains, which excited the laughter of the bystanders.
One by one the various groups returned towards their homes, looking wearied and exhausted; for the excitement which had kept them up for so many days and nights was gone. In many a shady corner might be seen lying fast asleep, an exhausted wretch, his finery still hanging about him, his last cowree perhaps expended in a copious dose of bhung, which, having done part of its work in exciting him almost to madness during the preceding night, had left him with a racking brain, and had finally sent him into oblivion of his fatigue and hunger. The Mohorum was ended: we stayed on the bridge till the time for evening prayer, when, repairing to an adjacent mosque, we offered up our devotions with the others of the faithful who were there assembled. This done, I told my father I should again visit Zora, and most likely remain at her house all night: he bid me be sure to return early in the morning, on account of our business; and having promised this, I departed.
I rode slowly through the now silent and almost deserted streets: the few persons whom I met were hurrying along to their homes, and had no common feeling or interest with each other as before. I passed along the now well-known track, and was soon at the house which held all that was most dear to me on earth. I sent up my name and dismounted; I expected the usual summons, and that I should see that countenance I longed to behold welcoming me from the window. I waited longer than I could assign a cause for in my own mind; at last my attendant returned, and as he quitted the threshold the door was rudely shut after him, while at the same time the casements of the windows were both shut. What was I to think of this? Alas! my forebodings were but too just. My attendant broke in upon my thoughts by addressing me. "Her mother, whom I have seen," said he, "bid me give you her salam, and tell you that her daughter is particularly engaged and cannotreceive you. I ventured to remonstrate, but the old woman became angry, and told me that she had behaved civilly to you, and that you could not expect more; and further, she said, 'Tell him from me that he had better act the part of a wise man, and forget Zora, for never again shall he see her; it will be in vain that he searches for her, for she will be beyond his reach; and I would rather that she died, than become the associate and partner of an adventurer like him; who, for all I know, might inveigle her from home, and, when he was tired of her, leave her in some jungle to starve. Go and tell him this, and say that if he is a wise man, he will forget her.'"
"And was this all?" exclaimed I in a fury; "was this all the hag said? I will see whether I cannot effect an entrance;" and I rushed at the door with all my might. In vain I pushed and battered it with the hilt of my sword, it was too securely fastened within to give way. I called out Zora's name—I raved—I threatened as loud as I could to destroy myself at the door, and that my blood would be upon the head of that cruel old woman. It was all in vain, not a bolt stirred, not a shutter moved, and I sat down in very despair. A few persons had collected, observing my wild demeanour, and as I looked up from my knees, where my face had been hidden, one of them said, "Poor youth! it is a pity his love has been unkind and will not admit him."
"Pooh!" said another, "he is drunk with bhung; Alla knows whether we are safe so near him!—he has arms in his hands; we ought to get out of his way: your drunken persons are ticklish people to deal with, let alone their being a scandal to the faith."
I was ashamed; shame for once conquered anger. I walked towards my horse, and mounting him, rode slowly from the place. How desolate everything appeared! The night before, I had reached the summit of happiness. I cast one look to the window where I had sat in sweet converse with her whom I was destined no more to behold; I thought on her words, and the glittering scene was again before me. Now all was dark and silent, and accorded well with my feelings. I rode home in this mood, and throwing myself down on my carpet, gave myself up to the bitterness of my feelings and unavailing regret. A thousand schemes I revolved in my mind for the recovery of Zora during that night, for I slept not. One by one I dismissed them as cheating me with vain hopes, only to be succeeded by others equally vague and unsatisfactory. I rose in the morning feverish and unrefreshed, having determined on nothing. There was only one hope, that of the old woman the nurse; if I could but speak with her, I thought I should be able to effect something, and as soon as I could summon one of the men who had attended Zora, I sent him for information.
I had not seen Bhudrinath now for some days, and fearing he might think me neglectful, I went to the serai in which he and the men had put up. "Ah!" cried he, when he saw me approach, "so we are at last permitted to see the light of your countenance; what, in the name of Bhowanee, have you been about? I have sought you in vain for the last three days."
"Tell me," said I, "what you have been doing, and you shall know my adventures afterwards."
"Well, then," said he, "in the first place, I have made a series of poojahs and sacrifices at the different temples around this most Mahomedan of cities; secondly, I have seen and mixed in the Mohorum; and lastly, I have assisted to kill seven persons."
"Killed seven persons!" I exclaimed in wonder, "how, in the name of the Prophet, did you manage that?"
"Nothing more easy, my gay young jemadar," he replied: "do you not know that this is the Karwan, where travellers daily arrive in numbers, and from which others are as frequently departing? Nothing is easier than to beguile them to accompany us a short distance, pretending that we are going the same road: why a Thug might live here for ever, and get a decent living. The people (my blessings on them!) are most unsuspicious; and, thanks toHunooman and his legions, there is no want of rocks and wild roads about the city, which give capital opportunities for destroying them."
"Ajaib!" I exclaimed, "this is very wonderful; and who were they?"
"Not in the least extraordinary," said Bhudrinath coolly, "if you think on it;—but to answer your question. The first was a Bunnea who was going to Beeder; we took him to Golconda, and buried him among the tombs, and we got seventy rupees and some pieces of gold from him. The second were two men and their wives, who said they were going to Koorungul: where that is Bhugwan knows! but it is somewhere in a southerly direction. We killed them about three coss from the city, among some rocks, and left them there."
"That was wrong," said I, "you should have buried them."
"Not at all wrong, my friend; who will take the trouble of inquiring after them? Besides, we had not time, for the day had fully dawned, and we feared interruption from travellers; we got above two hundred rupees, and two ponies, which I have sold for thirty rupees."
"Well," said I, "these make five; and the other two?"
"They lie there," said Bhudrinath, pointing to where a horse was picketed; "they were poor devils, and not worth the trouble of taking out; we only got forty-two rupees from both."
"Dangerous work," said I; "you might have been seen."
"Oh, no fear of an old hand like me; every one was off to the city to gape at the show, and we were left alone. I was deliberating whether we should not accompany them on the road we came in by, and by which they were going; but Surfuraz Khan cut short my doubts and uncertainties by strangling one fellow on the spot, and I followed his example with the other; the bodies were concealed till night, and then buried."
"But is there no fear of the grave bursting?" I asked. He laughed. "Fear! oh no, they lie deep enough; and you know our old tricks."
"Well," said I, "it is most satisfactory, and I have missed all this, have been a fool, and have lost my mistress into the bargain."
Bhudrinath laughed immoderately; but seeing the gravity of my face, he said, "Never mind, Meer Sahib, care not for my merriment; but truly thy face wore so lackadaisical an expression, that for my life I could not have refrained. Cheer up, man, there is plenty of work in store for you; women will be faithless, and young and hot-brained fellows will grieve for them; but take a friend's advice, make your profession your mistress, and she at least will never disappoint you."
"Your advice is good," said I; "nevertheless the mistress I have lost is, as you know, worthy of regret, and I shall miss her for many a day. But tell me, what have you now in hand,—anything in which I may have a share?"
"Why no," he replied, "nothing; but if you are so inclined, we will take a ramble this evening through the bazars, we may perhaps pick up somebody."
"Of course I will be with you, for in truth my hand will get out of practice if I neglect work. But have you seen my father?"
"I have not," said Bhudrinath; "I hear he is very much engaged about the property, and do not like to disturb him."
"You are right, he is," said I; "but he will finish all to-day, and get the money. I suppose after that we shall not stay long here, and for my part I care not how soon we set off; I am anxious for new scenes and adventures, and we are not likely to do much here. Is not Surfuraz Khan here?"
"No; he is gone with a party of seven travellers towards Puttuncherroo, and has taken ten or fifteen of the best of the men with him; he will not be back probably before night, if then."
"Who were the travellers?"
"Bunneas, I heard," said Bhudrinath carelessly; "I did not see them myself, and Surfuraz Khan was in too great a hurry to give me any information."
"Out upon me!" I exclaimed, vexed at my idleness; "here have I been amusing myself while all this has been going on: for the sake of the Prophet, let us do something soon, that I may settle scores with my conscience, for I have hardly assurance enough to look you in the face after my behaviour."
"Well," said he, "come this evening; if we can't decoy any one, we will kill somebody for amusement and practice."
"I agree," said I; "for by Alla! I must do something. I am as melancholy as a camel, and my blood, which boiled enough yesterday, seems now scarcely to run through me;—it is not to be borne."
I found when I reached home that the dullal had arrived, and with him the sahoukar's clerk, and some porters to carry the goods, as well as fellows with matchlocks and lighted matches, and others with swords and shields, to escort them. I stared at them. "One would think you were going to battle, Séthjee," said I, "with all those fierce fellows; I am half afraid of them."
The fellows laughed; and the clerk replied, "They are necessary, and we always have them. If our goods were stolen, nay, carried off before our eyes, should we get any redress? no indeed: we therefore protect our property the best way we can."
"Now," said my father, "take your goods and be off with them; they are no longer mine, and I fear to allow them to remain under my roof."
"Surely," said the clerk, "they will be out of your way directly; and now let us speak about your money, or will you take some merchandise as part of it?"
"Not a bit, not a bit," replied my father; "I want all my money in rupees—no, stay, not all in rupees; give me five thousand in silver and the rest in gold, it will be easier carried."
"I suppose you mean five thousand rupees, and the rest in gold bars; well, you must purchase gold according to weight, and the best is twenty rupees a tola;—but you had better take bills, and the exchange is favourable."
"No, no; no bills," said my father, "but the gold. If I remember rightly, the price of gold was high when I left Delhi, and was likely to remain so; and I have plenty of persons for my guard if robbers should attack me."
"You forget me," cried the dullal, "and my percentage."
"Make yourself easy," said I; "it will be paid out of the five thousand rupees; it will be about fifteen hundred, I think."
"What did you say? fifteen hundred! to whom?" asked the clerk.
"To this dullal," said I; "I suspect the rascal is cheating us."
"Cheating! surely he is; why Mohun Das, good man, what have you been about? are you mad, to ask so much?"
"Ah, it was my lord's offer and promise," said he, "and surely I shall now get it! pray what business is it of yours?"
"What ought he to have?" asked my father.
"One per cent. is ample," replied the other: "and you might have saved this too, if you had only applied yourself to the different sahoukars."
"We were strangers," said I, "and knew not their places of residence; so we were obliged to have recourse to this rascal, who offered his services."
"What! did you not take me from the Char-Minar? did you not promise me five per cent., and bind me to secrecy about the sale of your goods?" cried the dullal.
"Listen to him," said my father; "he raves. Now, Meer Sahib, did not this bhurwa come begging and beseeching for employment, and when I said I would try him, and asked his terms, he said he was miserably poor, and would take whatever was given him; was it not so? And now, Punah-i-Khoda, we are to be bearded in this manner, defrauded of fifteen hundred rupees, where we have not as many cowrees to give, and made to eat dirt into the bargain. Beat him on the mouth with a shoe! spit on him! may he be defiled so that Ganges water would not purify him! may his mother, sisters, and all his female relatives be——"
"Nay, my good friend," said the sahoukar's clerk, "be not thus rash and hot-headed, nor waste your breath upon so mean a wretch; since you have employed him, something must be given, it is the custom, and next time you will know better; say, may I pay him the one per cent., which will be three hundred and six rupees?"
"Three hundred and six rupees! Alla, Alla! where am I to get the half?" cried my father: "for the love of the Prophet, get me off what you can; Iswear by your head and eyes that I am a poor man, and only an agent; is it not so, Meer Sahib? am I not miserably poor?"
"You certainly cannot afford to pay so much money as one per cent. on this large sum," I replied; "nevertheless, as such appears to be the custom, you had better give something, say one hundred and fifty rupees."
"Certainly," said my father; "I am ready; I will not refuse anything in reason; but so large a sum—I was quite astounded at the impertinence of the demand, and lost my temper, like a fool."
Mohun Das stood all this time with his eyes and mouth wide open, looking from one to the other, every word that was uttered increasing his astonishment and disappointment. "Do you pretend to say," screamed he at last, "do you pretend to say that I am not to get my money, my fifteen hundred rupees, for which I have toiled night and day? And do you pretend to say I came to you first? did you not take me with you from the Char-Minar?"
"Nay, here is the Char-Minar again; for the sake of Alla," said I to the clerk, "if you really know this fellow, advise him to be quiet; what have I, who am a soldier, to do with his filthy traffic; he may provoke a patient man once too often, and people with weapons in their hands are not safe persons to play jokes with;" and I twisted up my mustachios.
I have told you, Sahib, what a coward the fellow was: he fell instantly on the ground and rubbed his forehead against the floor. "Pardon! pardon!" he cried, "most brave sirs! anything, whatever you choose to give me, even ten rupees, will be thankfully received, but do not kill me, do not put me to death;—see, I fall at your feet, I rub my nose in the dust."
"You fool," cried the clerk, holding his sides with laughter, for he was a fat man; "you fool; ah, Mohun Das, that I should have seen this! In the name of Narayun, who will do you any harm? Are you a child—you, with those mustachios? Shame on you, man; dullal as you are, be something less of a coward; get up, ask for your money boldly, ask for whatever these gentlemen please to give you, though indeed you deserve nothing for your impertinent attempt at deception."
He got up and stood on his left leg, with the sole of the right foot against the calf, his hands joined, his turban all awry, and the expression of his face most ludicrously miserable.
"Ten rupees, my lord," he faltered out; "your slave will take ten rupees." We all once more burst into a peal of laughter; the Gomashta's sides appeared to ache, and the tears ran down his cheeks.
"Ai Bhugwan! Ai Narayun!" cried he, catching his breath; "that I should have seen this; Ai Sitaram! but it is most amusing. Ten rupees! why man," said he to the miserable dullal, "you just now wanted fifteen hundred!"
"Nay," said my father, "let him have his due; you said one hundred and fifty,—that he shall have; do you, Meer Sahib, go with this worthy sahoukar to his kothee, and bring the money; I dare say he will give you a guard back, and you can hire a porter for the gold and silver."
"Certainly, you shall have the men," said the Gomashta: "and now come along; I shall have to collect the gold, and it may be late before it can be weighed and delivered to you, and the rupees passed by a suraff." As we went on, the dullal said to me, "You will pay me at the kothee, will you not?"
"We will see," said I; "the money is none of mine, and I will ask advice on the subject."
"Not your money! Whose then?"
"Why his who has employed you, and from whom you are to get one hundred and fifty rupees," I said; "are you a fool? Why do you ask?"
"Ah nothing, only I was thinking—"
"Thinking of what?" I asked; "some rascality I doubt not."
"Ah," said he, "now you speak as you did at the Char-Minar."
"By Alla!" said I, stopping and looking at him, "if ever you mention that word again—"
"Never, never!" cried the wretch, trembling; "do not beat me; remember it is the open street, and there will be a disturbance; the words escaped me unawares, just as I was thinking—"
"That is twice you have said that, and by Alla! I think you have some meaning in it; whatwouldyou be at?"
"Nothing, nothing," said he; "only I was thinking—"
"Well!"
"I was only thinking that you are an adventurer, who has accompanied that rich merchant from Hindostan."
"Well, and what of that? you knew that before."
"You are not rich?"
"No indeed," said I, "I am not."
"Then," said the wretch, "why not both of us enrich ourselves."
"How?" I asked.
"Refuse the guard, or take some men I will guide you to; they will do whatever you like for five rupees a piece; we will fly with the money, and there is a place in the rocks close to this where I have plunder hidden—we will go thither and share it."
"Where is the place you allude to—is it far?" I asked.
"No," said he; "will you come? I can show it you from a distance; we need not get up the rocks—there is danger of being seen in the daytime."