/ 
 
 $BRJCEL£Y 
 
 HSRARY 
 
 HHfvta*'^ Of 
 

 TARA: A MAHRATTA TALE 
 
EXTRACTS FROM SOME PRESS NOTICES OF " TARA. 
 
 The "Times." 
 
 •* For its rapid action, in fact, we have seldom read a better story, or one 
 which is more full of incidents, sanguinary, trenchant, and robust." 
 
 The ** Daily Telegraph." 
 
 " A true and a wonderfully well- sustained piece of Oriental life and 
 striking history." 
 
 The "Spectator." 
 
 " This is a very remarkable book. It is a determined attempt to bring 
 the interior Hindoo and Mussulman life of a great Mahratta province 
 during- the most exciting times home to the hearts and understandings of 
 Englishmen, to interest them in people with whom they have nothing 
 except human nature in common." 
 
 "MoRNiKG Post." 
 
 « * Tara ' is a unique work. There is nothing like it in the Ensrlish 
 literature of fiction. No other writer has ever attempted the portrayal of 
 Indian life, society, and interests, entirely free from any European 
 admixture of character or incident. The author himself now does so for 
 the first time. * The Confessions of a Thug ' related to British jurisdic- 
 tion in India. ' Tippoo Sultan' dealt with the gallant struggles of that 
 monarch against the encroaching British power, but ' Tara ' is all Indian." 
 
 " Saturday Review.'* 
 
 *' It is seldom that we meet with a work of fiction executed with anything 
 like the conscientious care and minute elaboration of Captain Meadows 
 Taylor's Indian Tale. His characters have mostly the clearness and indi- 
 viduality of portraits, and his scenery exhibits all the marked and decisive 
 features of photographs taken on the spot. The work throughout is 
 evidently that of a master of Oriental life and character in love with his 
 subject, to whom nothing appears trivial or beneath notice that can 
 illustrate the peculiar traits of Asiatic nature, or kindle an enthusiasm for 
 knowing more of the history, manners, and usages of our fellow-subjects 
 in the east." 
 
 The "Standard." 
 
 " In no one part of the work has Captain Taylor shown more thorough art 
 than in those pages in which he details the features of the Hindoo and 
 Mahomedan family life. He never overloads ; his characters are not lay 
 figures attired in triple folds of gorgeous robes to hide their nakedness. 
 With a few subtle touches he shows us the interior life of each household, 
 and the morning springs of every character, and he leaves us to fill in the 
 obvious details for ourselves." 
 
 COLONEL MEADOWS TAYLOR'S INDIAN TALES. 
 Each complete in 1 volume, Crown 8vo. Illustrated, price 6s. 
 
 THE CONFESSIONS OF A THUG. I TARA. 
 
 BALPH DARNELL. I TIPPOO SULTAUN. 
 
 LONDON: 0. KEGAN PAUL & CO. 
 
Now listen, all ye Brahmuns; I am true and pure, and I nra Sutee hencefovtb,'" 
 
 P. 461 
 
TAPvA 
 
 A MAHRATTA TALE 
 
 BY 
 
 MEADOWS TAYLOR, 
 
 C.S.I., M.R.A.S., M.R.I.A., ETC., ETC., 
 AUTHOE OF "SEETA," " CONFEGSIONS OF A THUG," ETC., ETC. 
 
 THIRD EDITION 
 
 LONDON : 
 C. KEGAN PAUL & CO., 1, PATEBNOSTEE SQUAKE. 
 
 1879. 
 
{The riyhts of translation and of reprodKciion are rcs'frrcd.) 
 

 f/YM^ 
 
 u 
 
 HIS EXCELLENCY 
 
 THE EARL OF CARLISLE, K. G., 
 
 VICEEOY OF IRELAND, 
 ETC. ETC. ETC. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 The SCENES and characters which I have endeavoured to DEPICT 
 IN THESE volumes WILL BE NECESSARILY NEW AND STRANGE TO YOU ; BUT IF 
 THEY EXCITE INTEREST IN THE NATIVE ANNALS OF A COUNTRY OF WHICH I FIND BUT 
 LITTLE REAL KNOWLEDGE EXISTING, THE OBJECT OF THE WORK WILL HAVE BEEN 
 ATTA.INED; WHILE, BY THE KIND COURTESY WHICH PERMITS ME TO DEDICATE IT 
 TO YOU, YOUR EXCELLENCY CONFERS UPON ME A VERY SINCERE GRATIFICATION. 
 
 i have the honour to be, 
 
 Your Lordship's very faithful servant, 
 
 MEADOWS TAYLOR. 
 
 Old Court, 
 Harold's Cross, near Dublin, 
 
 August, 1863. 
 
 681 
 
PROLOGUE 
 
 In the year 1839, I became acquainted with the late Professor 
 Wilson ; and in course of conversation on the possibility of illus- 
 trating events in Indian history by works of fiction, the details of 
 the present story, among other subjects, were slightly sketched 
 out by me. He was interested in them, and suggested my writing 
 the tale for " Blackwood's Magazine." I could not, however, then 
 commence it, and deferred doing so till my return to India; but, 
 falling into political and civil employment there, was never able to 
 continue what I had begun, till my return home. 
 
 The history of the period of this tale, a.d. 1657, will be found at 
 length in Scott's "Ferishta," and vol. i. of Grant Duff's " History 
 of the Mahrattas ; " and to these works I beg to refer such of my 
 readers as may be curious in regard to its particulars, of which a 
 slight sketch may not, perhaps, be altogether out of place. 
 
 In A.D. 1347, a great portion of the Dekhan was consolidated into 
 a kingdom by Sultan Alla-oo-deen, who founded the Bahmuni 
 dynasty. It was divided into three great provinces, Dowlatabad, 
 Beejapoor, and Golconda, which, on the decay of the royal house, 
 became separate kingdoms under their several viceroys, who suc- 
 cessively declared their independence. Of these, Beejapoor was 
 the largest, and became by far the most important and powerful. 
 Yoosuf Adil Shah, a Turk of European descent, believed, indeed, to 
 have been the son of a Sultan of Constantinople, threw off his 
 allegiance to the Bahmuni dynasty in A.D. 1489, and established 
 himself at Beejapoor, which afterwards rose to be the greatest, as it 
 was the most magnificent, city of the Dekhan. 
 
vi PROLOGUE. 
 
 The prosperity of tlie Dekban kingdoms excited the jealousy of 
 the Moghul Emperors of Dehli, and their subjugation was projected 
 by the Emperor Akbur ; but it had made little progress at his death 
 in A.D. 1605. In the reign of his grandson Shah Jehan, the State of 
 Ahmednugger, or Dowlatabad, was finally subdued about 1630, and 
 the Moghul power so far established in the Dekhan. His son, 
 Aurungzeeb, pursued the reduction of the two remaining kingdoms, 
 Beejapoor and Golconda, with varying success, but untiring pertina- 
 city ; and, before his death in 1707, they had succumbed to him. 
 
 j§pgi^PQQy^-^l^- Q^,__%fiJ-^%,Q^^P^^^> ^£^^ > Golconda in September, 
 1687. " '" ' '^'^\ 
 
 Amidst the struggles of the Mahomedans, the predatory power of 
 the Mahratta people arose under Sivaji, and assumed a more definite 
 form than it had ever before possessed ; and, as the author of the 
 Mahratta History observes, *' stirred those latent embers till, like 
 " the parched grass kindled amidst the forests of the Syhadree 
 *' mountains, they burst forth in spreading flame, and men afar 
 "wondered at the conflagration." 
 
 Of the many remarkable and romantic events connected with the 
 rise of the Mahratta power, those which form the subject of the 
 present tale are, of all, the most cherished by the people ; and they 
 are recited, or sung in ballads, with an interest which time does not 
 diminish, and which has exalted the national hero, Sivaji Rajah, to 
 the distinction almost of a demigod. 
 
 At theperiod.of the tale,.1.65 7, though the political foundations of 
 Beejapoor were shaking, nothing had affected its material prosperity; 
 and the palaces, mosques, mausoleums, and other public buildings of 
 the capital, were in their greatest magnificence. The city itself, 
 except its vast fortifications, which are still perfect, has now, for the 
 most part, disappeared ; and long lines of shapeless mounds, covering 
 an immense area, mark where its streets existed. In some quarters 
 there are villages, widely separated, which once formed part of the 
 general masses of habitations ; and there are everywhere remains of 
 mosques, tombs, and palaces, which convey a true estimate of the 
 wealth of those for whom they were constructed, and the taste and 
 skill of the architects. 
 
 The citadel is still perfect as to walls, towers, and ditch, and is a 
 very complete and picturesque specimen of Puthan fortification. 
 The royal palaces situated in it, are, however, roofless, much ruined, 
 
PROLOGUE. vii 
 
 and advancing to destruction; and tlie gardens and terraces, with 
 their fountains, are covered by brushwood and tangled creepers. It 
 is a happy thing, however, that the liberahty of the Indian Govern- 
 ment has arrested decay, wherever practicable, and that all the most 
 beautiful buildings have been restored, while repairs continue to be 
 made as needful. 
 
 The buildings so restored are — 
 
 The Mausoleum of Ibrahim Adil Shah, called the Ibrahim Roza j 
 
 The Mausoleum of Mahmood Adil Shah ; 
 
 The Mehturi Mahal; 
 
 The Jumima Mosque ; 
 
 The Assar Shureef ; 
 
 The Royal Well, with its cloisters ; and some others. 
 
 Of the above, the Assar Shureef is one of the ancient royal palaces, 
 which contains some sacred relics ; and, being in the actual condi- 
 tion in which it was left, is perhaps the most interesting of all. 
 
 By orders of Government also, drawings from actual measurement 
 were made a few years ago by a clever civil engineer and architect, 
 of all the principal buildings. These are now in the India Library 
 in London ; and, to any one curious on the subject, will give a far 
 better idea of the superb Saracenic architecture of the Adil Shahy 
 dynasty, than any description. Mahomedan architecture in India is 
 always beautiful ; but there is a combination of grandeur and grace 
 about that of Beejapoor which is not approached elsewhere, and a 
 beauty of ornament and execution nowhere exceeded. The Jumma 
 Mosque, with its side aisles, was constructed for the accommodation 
 of eight thousand persons at prayer ; and the superb dome of the 
 Mausoleum of Sultan Mahmood Adil Shah, built of hewn stone, is 
 the largest in its outward diameter in the world. 
 
 With these noble remains, the country around them, and its popu- 
 lation of all classes, I have been familiar for many years past ; and 
 such descriptions of scenery and character as may be found in these 
 volumes, are the result of personal knowledge. The actors in my 
 story are Hindus and Mahomedans ; but the same passions and affec- 
 tions exist among them as among ourselves, and thus the motives 
 and deeds of my characters may, at least, be intelligible. I can only 
 hope they may prove of interest. 
 
 It was very strange, twenty-five years ago, to observe the remark- 
 able interval of exactly one hundred years, between the attack of 
 
viii PROLOGUE, 
 
 Sivaji on the Beejapoor Mahomedaiis in 1657, and tlie victory of 
 Lord Clive over those of Bengal at Plassey in 1757. Both results led 
 directly to the establishment of powers widely differing in their aims 
 and characters, but not the less irresistible by the Mahomedans ; and 
 the victory at Pertabgurh was as directly conducive to the establish- 
 ment and extension of the Mahratta authority, and the decadence of 
 the Mahomedan, as that of Plassey has been to our own sovereignty, 
 and to the political extinction of both. But this curious accordance 
 of dates becomes still more interesting, when we observe that, on the 
 anniversary of a third century, June, 1857, the heads of Mahomedan 
 and Mahratta power were leagued against that which had subdued 
 both ; and know that their combined efforts however desperate, and 
 their intrigues however virulent, proved alike futile. 
 
TAR A : A MAHRATTA TALE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 '' Taua, O Tara ! where art thou ? " 
 
 " Motlier, I am here. Is it time ? '* 
 
 " Yes ; we should 'go with the offerings to the temple. Come, 
 thy father hath long been gone, and it will be broad day ere we can 
 reach it. Come," said her mother, entering a small open verandah 
 which skirted the inner court of the hou^e, where the girl sat 
 reading by the light of a lamp, now paling before the dawn which 
 was fast spreading over the sky. 
 
 She shut her book with a reverential gesture, laid it aside in its 
 quilted cover, and stood up. How beautiful she was! Let us 
 describe this Brahmun girl to you, O reader! if we can, and tell 
 you a little concerning her. 
 
 There were many fair women of her sect in Tooljapoor, and they 
 are always the most remarkable of their country-women, but none 
 so fair as Tara, the daughter of Yyas Shastree.* From her earliest 
 childhood she had given promise of grace and beauty, and since that 
 period — from the time when, hanging shyly to the skirt of her 
 mother's garment, she passed daily through the crowded bazaar 
 and street which led to the upper gate of the temple — to the present, 
 she had ever been an object of remark and admiration ; while the 
 rank and learning of her father, and his position as chief priest, had 
 maintained for her a continued and increasing interest as she grew 
 up. None who had the privilege of addressing her ever omitted a 
 loving greeting or respectful salutation : the pubHc flower- sellers 
 intrusted her with their choicest garlands or nosegays to offer up at 
 the shrine — the confectioners had ever a delicate sweetmeat with 
 which to tempt the child — and even the rudest peasant or soldier 
 looked at her, as she passed him, in wonder, stretched out his hands 
 to her, and kissed the tips of his fingers in a worshipful salutation 
 and benediction. 
 
 • For explanation of Oriental words, see Glossary. 
 
TARA 
 
 The promise of the child was more than fulfilled in the girl now 
 budding into early womanhood ; and her appearance was so remark- 
 able that, while many of her old friends in the bazaar now rarely 
 ventured to accost her, and even turned aside their heads reverently 
 as she passed, she could not traverse the crowded street which led 
 from her house to the temple, or, indeed, move anywhere during 
 the day without attracting admiration from the crowds of strangers 
 who, from all parts of India, visited that renowned shrine of which 
 her father was the chief priest and manager. Many a pilgrim and 
 worshipper gazed wonderingly upon the calm, gentle face which 
 met him at the earliest dawn in its devotional perambulation round 
 the temple, or followed with his eye the graceful figure which, 
 carrying the daily sacrificial offerings, descended the flights of steps 
 by which the shrine was approached ; and, far away in his native 
 village, under the snows of Himalaya, the burning sands of Rame- 
 shwnr, or the green plains of Bengal, told of the beautiful vision, 
 and never forgot it. 
 
 Tara has been up since before the false dawn. She has assisted 
 her father with water to bathe, and in his private worship of the 
 household gods. She has bathed herself, and is now dresK' d in the 
 simple saree, or robe of all Hindu females. It is of dark blue silk, 
 striped with a fainter blue, and has a broad border of a light but 
 rich pattern harmonizing with the colours of the garment which, 
 coTisisting of one long piece only, is wound round her several times 
 to form a skirt, then passed about her body and over her head on 
 the left side, whence the end, which is of rich gold tissue interwoven 
 with crimson flowers and green leaves, hangs heavily over her right 
 shoulder and back. Below the garment is a closely-fitting bodice 
 of striped orange silk only ; but no portion of it is visible except a 
 little of the sleeve above the elbow. Tara is holding the border of 
 her dress close to her cheek, as if to conceal it even from her mother ; 
 and the graceful outline of her arm may be followed, from the tips 
 of the taper fingers past the wrist partly covered with purple bangles 
 and a massive gold ring, along the soft round arm to the dimpled 
 elbow, whence it is lost among the folds of the saree which fallfl 
 over it. 
 
 Do you expect that her complexion will be fair like that of onr 
 own northern girls ? Ah, no ! that would not harmonize with the 
 dress or the conntry ; and yet it is very fair. Not a deep rich olive, 
 but what seems at a first glance pale and colourless ; yet the skin is 
 so glossy and transparent that the warm glow of her blood is suffused 
 binder it with the least passing emotion or excitement, which, ae it 
 fades, leaves, as you think, a more beautiful tint behind. 
 
 And the features harmonized with the colour. To a casual 
 observer their expression was almost one of habitual sadness, yet it 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 
 
 was not so in reality : there was calm, whicli as yet liad known no 
 rude ruffling — a sweetness that was index to a simple, loving, trust- 
 ful mind. True, she had cares beyond those of ordinary household 
 occurrences, and these had no doubt increased the pensive expression 
 always remarkable. So her countenance was not easy to describe : 
 nor could you account very well for the patient, care-enduring look 
 which met you from one so young. What every one saw first, were 
 the soft brown eyes, shaded wdth long eyelashes which rested upon 
 the cheek. Ordinarily perhaps, or if seen when cast down, these 
 eyes appeared nowise remarkable ; yet if passing emotions were 
 noticed, they closed when she was merry, till only a bright spark 
 of light remained glistening through the long lashes ; and again, if 
 sui^rise, wonder, or admiration wxre excited, they suddenly ex- 
 panded, so that one looked into a depth of clear glowing colour, 
 violet and brown, the expression of which could not be fathomed. 
 But habitually they were modest, pensive, and gentle — full of in- 
 telligence, and seemed to correspond with a low musical cadence of 
 voice perfectly natural, yet assisted, perhaps, by the habit of reading 
 and studying aloud, which she had learned from her father. In 
 those calm eyes there was as yet no passion of any kind. Some 
 suffering, perhaps, but no rough awakening to the reality of life. 
 
 The rest of her face left nothing to be desired. The Brahmuns of 
 Western India usually possess features more European in their cha- 
 racter than those of the same sect in other parts of the country, and 
 in this respect the ^vomen share them with the men, if they do not, 
 indeed, exceed them. So Tara had a soft oval face, with small full- 
 lips and mouth, a thin sti^ight nose with nostrils almost transpa- 
 rent, which seemed to obey the passing emotions of her countenance. 
 Though the features were soft, they were neither insipid nor weak 
 in character ; on the contrary, they appeared full of a woman's best 
 strength — endurance and patience ; while, in the full glossy chin 
 and throat, enough of determination was expressed to show firmness 
 and consistency of no common order. Except the eyes, perhaps, 
 there was no feature of the face which could be called exactly 
 beautiful, yet the whole combined to create an expression which was 
 irresistibly interesting and charming; and where all harmonized, 
 separate portions were not remarked. 
 
 Every movement of her lithe form was displayed by the soft silk 
 drapery which fell over it in those graceful folds which we see ex- 
 pressed in ancient statues, and it was cast in those full yet delicately 
 rounded proportions which sculptors have best loved to imitate. 
 Standing as she was, the girl had fallen into an attitude which was 
 most expressive : her head raised and turned to meet her mother's 
 entrance : a delicate naked foot, with a chain anklet of gold resting 
 on it, put out from beneath her robe : her eyes open, yet not to their 
 
4 TABA : 
 
 full width : and her lips apart, disclosing the even glistening teeth : 
 — she appeared, in her arrested movement, as if she waited some 
 further communication from her mother, or had herself one to make 
 before she stirred. 
 
 I^o wonder that, as each morning she left the house with her 
 mother to pay her devotions at the temple, and passed along with 
 downcast eyes, her graceful figure attracted increased attention day 
 by day. Many a good wish followed her — -many a benediction from 
 the aged poor of the town, to whom her charities were liberally dis- 
 pensed ; and it might be, too, that other admiration, less pure in its 
 character, also rested upon her, and often, unknown to her, dogged 
 her steps. 
 
 The contrast between Tara and her mother was in most respects a 
 sticking one. No one could deny that Anunda Bye was a handsome 
 woman ; her neighbours and gossips told her so, and she quite be- 
 lieved it. She looked, too, very young of her age ; and as she sailed 
 down or up the street leading to the temple, and received the 
 humble salutations of shopkeepers, flower-sellers, and all the trades- 
 men of that busy quarter, with an air which plainly showed how 
 much she considered it due to her rank and station — it would have 
 been difficult to say whether the timid girl following her, and 
 screening her face from the gaze of the people as she moved along, 
 was her daughter or youngest sister. Either she might be, and it 
 seemed more probable the latter, than the former. 
 
 Taller than her daughter as yet, Anunda Bye was not without 
 much of the same grace of figure ; but it was cast on a bolder scale. 
 The features were more decided and prominent, the colour several 
 shades darker. The face, handsome as it was, had little of the 
 softening element of intellectuality in it ; and Anunda was ignorant 
 of everything but household management, in which she excelled, in 
 all departments, to a degree that made her the envy of her female 
 acquaintance, and her husband the envied of his male associates 
 whose domestic affairs were not conducted with the same regularity, 
 and whose cookery was not so good. 
 
 Enter the Shastree's house at any time, and you were at once 
 struck with its great neatness. The floor was always plastered 
 with liquid clay by the women- servants when he was absent at the 
 temple for morning worship, and retained a cool freshness while it 
 dned, and, indeed, during. the day. It was generally decorated by 
 pretty desigus in white and red chalk powder dropped between the 
 finger and thumb, in the execution of which both mother and 
 daughter were very expert and accomplished. The Shastree's seat, 
 which was, in fact, a small raised dais at one side of the large room, 
 was usually decked with flowers, while upon the floor before it, the 
 greatest artistic skill was expended in ornament by Tara and her 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 5 
 
 mother. Above it were pictures of favourite divinities, painted 
 in distemper colour: the amorous blue-throated Krishna playing 
 to the damsels of Muttra ; the solemn four-armed Ganesha, sitting 
 with a grave elephant's head on his shoulders ; the beautiful 
 Lakshmee and Suruswuti, the goddesses of wealth and learning, 
 the objects of household adoration : and the terrible six-armed 
 Bhowani in her contest with the demon Maheshwur, in commemora- 
 tion of which the temple had been erected — all surrounded by 
 wreaths of flowers interwoven with delicate border patterns ; — had 
 been partly executed by the- Shastree himself, and partly by Tara, 
 who followed his tastes and accomplishments after a pretty fashion. 
 Thus decorated, the dais had a cheerful effect in the rooni : and 
 choice and intimate friends only were admitted to the privilege of 
 sitting upon it. 
 
 The house itself was perhaps in no degree remarkable. Out- 
 side, facing the street, was a high wall, with a large door within a 
 projecting porch or archway, which had a seat on either hand as 
 you entered. The door-frame was richly carved, and on each side 
 a horse's head projected from the upper corner. Above the door, 
 in a space left for the purpose, was written in red Sanscrit letters, 
 ^'Sree Martund Prussunn," "The holy Martund protects;" and 
 Martund was one of the appellations of Siva. This legend was 
 surrounded by wreaths of flowers in the same colour ; and across 
 the whole was a garland of mango leaves now withered, which had 
 hung there since the last festival. 
 
 As you entered the court, the principal room was before you, on 
 the basement of the house, which you ascended by three steps. It 
 was a wide open verandah, extending the width of the court, sup- 
 ported upon seven wooden pillars, also richly carved, on which 
 crossed square capitals were fixed, and from these, beams were laid 
 to form the roof. This verandah was double ; the inner portion 
 being raised a step above' the other to form a dais, and at each 
 end of the inner portion were two small rooms in the corners, one 
 of which was the Shastree's library. The whole of these verandahs 
 eould be shut in closely by heavy curtains of quilted cotton, neatly 
 ornamented by devices of birds and flowers, which hung between 
 the pillars ; but usually all was open, or closed only by transparent 
 blinds of split cane suspended outside. 
 
 Having a northern aspect, this room Avas always cool, and was 
 the ordinary resort of the Shastree. Here he received his friends 
 and neighbours, held disputations, and instructed his pupils. The 
 Avomen seldom entered it except in the evenings when undisturbed; 
 for, though unsecluded from men, a certain degree of reserve and 
 retirement is always observable in the women of Hindu families. 
 There was no ornament about the main apai'tment except the 
 
€ TABA 
 
 8liastrco's dais, and the borders painted about the niches and 
 architraves of the doors ; but it was kept a pnre white, and was 
 ."^crupnlonslj clean. 
 
 In the centre of the back Avail of the inner verandah was a door 
 Avhich opened into a second court, ronnd which was a verandah 
 also open, and, leading from it on three sides, sleeping chambers 
 and a bath-room. In this verandah there was nothing bnt a few 
 spinning-wheels and their low stools ; for Annnda Bye had no idea 
 of allowing women- servants to be idle, and when they were not 
 working otherwise, they were spinning cotton yarn for their own 
 clothes. Annnda herself had her wheel, and Tara hers, and 
 .sometimes they spnn yarn fine enough for the Shastree's waist- 
 cloths. 
 
 On the fourth side of the court was the kitchen, and, passing by 
 it, a door led into a third court, more private, though not so large 
 as the second. In the centre of it was an altar painted in distemper, 
 on which grew a bush of toolsee or sweet basil, grateful to the 
 gods ; and in the verandah, another altar, similar in form, on 
 which burned the sacred fire never extinguished. Close to it was 
 the door of the private temple of the house, which contained the 
 household gods of the family. Here it was that Tara best loved 
 to sit when her share of domestic affairs was completed. Here 
 .she tended the sacred fire, and offered worship, such as a woman 
 could perform, in the temple. She had a small garden in one 
 corner of the court, which contained a few jessamine bushes, mari- 
 golds, and otlier common fl.owers, which she cultivated for offerings 
 to the household gods in the daily worship. Here she could study 
 imdisturbed, and did so with all her heart — here, too, it was that 
 her mother found her. 
 
 There was no decoration about the house, except, as we have 
 already mentioned, border patterns and quaintly designed birds and 
 flowers upon the walls. Furniture, such as we need, was nnknoAvn. 
 A small cotton or woollen carpet laid down here and there, with a 
 heavy cotton pillow covered with white calico, sufficed for sitting* 
 or reclining ; and as the goddess Bhowani, in her incarnation at 
 Tooljapoor, does not choose, as is believed, that any one in the 
 town should lie upon a bed except herself, a cotton mattress on the 
 floor, or a cool mat, sufficed for sleeping. 
 
 The house, therefore, wonld have appeared bare in any of my 
 readers' eyes ; but it was neat and pleasant to look at : and one 
 can imagine, though decorated in a higher style of art, the 
 Roman houses at Pompeii to have been similar in most respects 
 of plan and domestic arrangement. 
 
 There was no evidence of wealth, yet the Shastree was a prosper- 
 ous man ; and could yon have seen Anunda Bye's stores of copper 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 
 
 and brass utensils — large vessels for boiling vast quantities of 
 rice on festivals and housebold ceremonies — ^ber brass lamps and 
 candelabra, ber silver plates for eating from, and silver drinking 
 vessels ; — could you bave seen tbe contents of ber private room, 
 in wbicb were sundry large cbests, full of sarees, or women's gar- 
 ments, of great value ; some beir-looms, woven witb gold and 
 silver tbread, eacb baving its peculiar bistory ; tbe sbawls wbicb 
 belonged to ber busband, tbe gifts of princes and nobles, tributes to 
 bis learning, of wbicb sbe was very proud ; — could you bave seen, too, 
 tbe strong box tbat lay bidden among tbe clotbes in tbe largest cbest, 
 full of family jewels and ornaments, among wbicb were two necklaces 
 of fine pearls, massive gold ornaments for ankles and wrists, for neck 
 and ears ; — could yoii bave seen all tbese, and tbe beavy gold cinctures 
 round Anunda's and Tara's trim waists, and tbeir massive gold brace- 
 lets and anklets, — you would bave been envious, my dear reader, of 
 considerable wealtb in tbis particular. 
 
 Otberwise, indeed, tbe Sbastree was a man of substance. Being 
 an only son, witb no otber sbarers, at bis fatber's deatb, be bad in- 
 berited a considerable property. He bad bimself earned, by bis 
 scbolarly abilities, a small estate in a neigbbouring province^ 
 tbe rent of wbicb was punctually paid, and was improving, for 
 be was a good landlord. He derived a bandsome income from 
 tbe temple service, and from tbe offerings made to bim as bead 
 of tbe establisbment. He farmed some land, too, near tbe town, 
 on tbe bank of tbe small river Boree, and bad an excellent garden 
 near tbe village of Sindpbul, in tbe plain below tbe bills, tbe daily 
 supply of vegetables from wbicb was very profitable from tbe large 
 and constant consumption in tbe town. Finally, as one of tbe most 
 learned Sanscrit scbolars of tbe Dekban, bis instruction was beld 
 in deserved repute, and bis classes were attended by young Brab- 
 muns from all parts of tbe country, from wbom be received fees 
 accordinof to tbeir means. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 In many respects Yyas Sbastree was a remarkable man, and, very 
 deservedly, be was beld in great respect tbrougbout tbe country. 
 No one could look on bim witbout being conscious of bis extreme 
 good breeding and intellectuality. Well made, tbere was no ap- 
 pearance of great strengtb, tbougb in tbe town gymnasium, as a 
 youtb, be bad beld bis own among tbe wrestlers, and bad even 
 been famous as a sword-player. Tbose were troubled times, 
 
8 TAEA : 
 
 wlien a knowledge of weapons was needed by all men, and even 
 peaceful merchants and priests did not neglect the nse of them ; 
 bnt, as he grew older, the Shastree had laid aside these exercises, 
 and spare, strong, muscular anns were perhaps the only evidence 
 of them that remained. Certainly the head and face were fine. 
 The forehead was high and broad, slightly wrinkled now, and 
 furrowed by parallel lines. The head was shaved, except the lock 
 behind, and its intellectual organs were prominent. The eye- 
 brows, strongly marked, but not bushy, projected boldly over 
 expressive eyes of a deep steel grey, which were very bright and 
 clear, and a prominent nose of Roman character, which corre- 
 sponded with a well-shaped mouth and chin. Certainly it was 
 a handsome face — pale, sallow perhaps in colour, yet healthy, and 
 which occasionally assumed a noble and even haughty expression ; 
 but, ordinarily, it was good-humoured : and evidently elevated and 
 purified in character by intellectual pursuits. 
 
 The Shastree was a man of note, as we have said, as to learning 
 and accomplishments. He was a profound Sanscrit scholar ; and 
 in law,^ grammar, and logic, with the deep metaphysics of the 
 Vedas, and their commentators, he had few superiors. With 
 mathematics and astronomy to calculate eclipses and positions of 
 planets, he had sufficient acquaintance to assist an old friend, who 
 was infirm, in the arrangement of the ^'Tooljapoor Almanac," a 
 task by no means easy, as it included calculation of the eclipses of 
 the year, and astrological tables. Of the popular Poorans he had 
 less knowledge, or perhaps did not believe them ; and, as many do 
 now in these later days, held more to the ancient Vedantic theism 
 than to the modern idolatry of the Pooranic worship. The 
 Shastree, as a devout Brahmun, had made pilgrimages, being 
 accompanied by his wife ; and in disputations at Benares, jSTuddea 
 in Bengal, and Gya — as well as at Madura and Conjevaram, in 
 the south of India — had gained credit, if not renown. 
 
 In lighter accomplishments, too, such as music, he had a fair 
 amount of knowledge, and sang sweetly the various Rags, Droopuds,i 
 and other measures of the classic styles. He considered, perhaps, 
 ordinary songs below notice ; yet Avhen he relaxed, and was prevailed 
 upon to sing some of the plaintive ballads of his own Mahratta 
 country, to his own Yina accompaniment, or any of his own 
 compositions, the effect was very charming. Tara had been care- 
 fully taught by him, and the neighbours often listened to her sweet 
 voice in the morning and evening hymns, and chants of the sei-vice, 
 in the little temple of the house. Yet with all this wealth, 
 which he shared liberally with the poor — all this worldly good and 
 honour — Vyas Shastree had two great cares which pressed upon him 
 heavily, and were shared by his wife. The first was that he had no 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 
 
 son ; the second, that his beautiful daughter was already a virgin 
 widow. And these were heavy griefs. 
 
 Anunda Bye had borne him two sons and a daughter, of which 
 Tara was the first-bom. The others had followed, and had died 
 successively when giving promise of healthy childhood. In vain 
 had the parents made pilgrimages to the shrines in the Dekhan after 
 the death of the last son, and to Benares also, to propitiate Siva in 
 his holiest of temples, and had from time to time remitted propitiatory 
 gifts to his shrine — no further offspring followed. An heir was 
 not only desirable for the property, which, in default of one, must 
 devolve upon a very distant relative — but, in a higher degree, for 
 the performance of those ceremonies for himself and his family 
 after death, which could only be effectual from a son, real or 
 adopted. 
 
 Often had Anunda urged him to marry again, and assured him 
 of her love and protection to a young wife, as a mother or elder 
 sister ; and she had even named several parties of good family who 
 would have considered an alliance with the Shastree a positive 
 honour. Why should he not marry ? He was yet comparatively 
 young : men older than himself had married twice, nay thrice, or 
 till the object of their desire was accomplished. Why should he 
 not do the same ? Was he too old at forty, nay, even less ? So 
 urged his wife and his best friends. 
 
 Yet the Shastree had not consented. The fact was, he loved 
 Anunda very dearly ; she had been a good and true wife to him. 
 He feared, too, a certain imperious tone of temper which he could 
 control, but which, in contact with a second and younger wife, 
 might change to jealousy, and become, to say the least, 'incon- 
 venient. Or, if he made new connections, there would be the 
 usual tribe of new relations to provide for, or to trouble him with 
 importunate demands. On the whole, it might be better to adopt 
 a son of that distant cousin who lived at Nassuk, and bring him 
 up as his own. In any form, his necessity was urgent, and 
 Anunda grew more and more earnest about the matter, and had 
 even induced Tara to join in it. 
 
 "If you had a son," she would say to her husband, "he would 
 be a young man before you were old. Even if you died, the 
 property would descend to him, and the ceremonies would be properly 
 performed. If you grew old, and I were with you, he would take 
 care of us and of Tara. Who will do this now ? " 
 
 Yes, the echo in his heart was sad enough. Who would do so ? 
 There might be two widows, perhaps, mother and daughter, both 
 left to the mercies of distant relatives who had no^personal know- 
 ledge of them, and to whom they would be as ordinary widows 
 only, no matter what amount of property they had brought with 
 
10 TAEA : 
 
 tliem- — sliaven, dressed in tlie coarsest and scantiest raiment, and 
 used for menial offices — perhaps worse. Yes ! tlie echo — '' who 
 would do so ? " — often as the words were said, fell heavily on the 
 Shastree's heart ; and recently he had told his wife that — " he wonld 
 think about it if his life were spared for another year ; until after the 
 next unfavourable conjunction of planets " — " he would think about 
 it : " and so Anunda, without making any formal propositions, was 
 yet collecting information as to the appearance, character, property, 
 and accomplishments of many girls in the neighbourhood, and, in 
 short, wherever she had any acquaintance. 
 
 Most heavily, however, of all domestic cares did the situation of 
 his daughter oppress the Shastree. She was growing very beautiful ; 
 in his eyes supremely so. So kind, too, so loving, so thoughtful, so 
 unselfish, so clever a scholar ! She might have been a happy wife 
 — ere this, perhaps, a happy mother — ^yet at sixteen she was a widow, 
 with a gloomy future : not felt as yet ; for the girl had grown up 
 A\'ith him, had shared in his studies, and had in all respects so entirely 
 enjoyed her young and peaceful life, that any thought of change had 
 never occurred to her. 
 
 She had been married at an early age, according to the custom of 
 hei' sect — when, indeed, she was little more than six years old — ^to 
 a youth, the son of a friend, who was one of the chief priests of tlio 
 temple of Punderpoor, a lucrative office, and one which would de- 
 volve upon his son by hereditary right. The family was opulent, 
 and the young man gave promise of learning and of character. 'No 
 matter now ; he was dead. Three years after the marriage he had 
 been cut off suddenly by a fever, to the grief of his family and to 
 the extinction of the Shastree's hopes for his daughter. Since then, 
 Avitli no further worldly hope before her, Tara had betaken herself 
 to the study of the holy books in which her father delighted ; and, 
 doomed as it were to a life of celibacy, had vowed it to the perfor- 
 mance of religious exercises after the manner of her faith. 
 
 It was unusual then, that Brahmun girls were taught to read 
 or write — more so than it is now ; and in accordance with the rules 
 of the sect and the customs of the country, Tara, had her husband 
 lived, would ere now have joined him, and become mistress of his 
 liousehold — a sufficient distinction for a Brahmun girl ; but before 
 that event, the application of the child to such rudimental teaching 
 as her father had given her was so remarkable, that in process of 
 years the conventional rules of the caste had been set aside, and it 
 was a loving and grateful task to the father to lead his widowed 
 daughter through the difficult mazes of Sanscrit lore, and find in 
 Jiers an intellect and comprehension little short of his own. 
 
 Many of his friends shrugged their shoulders at this strange innova- 
 tioai of ordinary custom, and argued astutely, that it was a dangerouB 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 11 
 
 tiling to fill a girl's mind with learning. Others, his enemies, were 
 loud in their condemnation of the precedent it would a:fford to many, 
 and the bad uses it could be put to ; and in disputes upon the subject,, 
 texts were hurled at the Shastree by angry parties, to be answered, 
 however, by appeals to ancient times, as illustrated in holy books, 
 when women were deep scholars and emulated the men ; and so^ 
 Tara's desultory education went on. "After all, what does it matter?" 
 said her father very frequently, if hard pressed by caste clamour ; 
 " she does not belong to the world now : God has seen it good to cut 
 of£ her hopes : she has devoted herself to a religious life, and I am 
 teaching her and preparing her for it." 
 
 But this did not satisfy the adverse Pundits, still less the fact that 
 Tara as yet wore ordinary clothes, and her head as yet had not been 
 shaved. The degradation of Brahmun widowhood had not been 
 23ut on her ; and she was too beautiful to escape notice, or the envious 
 comments of others, both male and female. The rites of widowhood 
 must be performed some time or other. Her father and mother both 
 knew that; they would have to take her to Punderpoor, or to 
 Benares, or to Nassuk, or other holy city, and after ceremonials of 
 purification, all that beautiful hair must be cut off and burned, the 
 pretty chaste bodice discarded, and she must be wrapped, ever after,. 
 in a coarse white cotton — or silk — or woollen — sheet, and all other- 
 dresses of every kind or colour be unknown to her. 
 
 Ah ! it seemed cruel to disfigure that sweet face which they had 
 looked upon since she was a child, and had watched in all its growing- 
 beauty ! Any other less pure, less powerful parents, would long aga 
 have been obliged to comply with those cruel customs ; and were- 
 they not performed every day at the temple itself ? " Why should 
 the rite be delayed ? " said many \ " the girl is too handsome ; she 
 will be a scandal to the caste. The excuses of going to Benares, or 
 to E'assuk, are mere devices to gain time, and sinful." " The 
 matter must be noticed to the Shastree himself, and he must be 
 publicly urged and warned to remove the scandal from his house 
 and from the sect, which had been growing worse day by day for- 
 the last three years." 
 
 Yes, it was true — quite true. Tara herself knew it to be true, and 
 often urged it. What had she before her but a dreary widowhood r 
 Why should she yet be as one who ostensibly lived in the world, and 
 yet did not belong to it ? For whom was she to dress herself 
 and to braid her hair every day ? For whom deck herself in jewels ? 
 She did not remember her husband so as to regret his memory. She 
 had had no love for him. Married as a child, she had seen him but 
 a few times afterwards, when he came to perform needful annual 
 ceremonies in the house, and she had then looked up to him with 
 awe. He had rarely spoken to her, for she was still a child when 
 
12 TARA : 
 
 lie died. Once slie remembered, wlien he was on a visit, her father 
 had made her recite Sanscrit verses to him, and read and expound 
 portions of the Bhngwat Geeta, and had said in joke that she would 
 be a better Pundit than he was. 
 
 She remembered this incident better than any other, and soon 
 iifter its occurrence he had died. Now she felt that, had he lived, 
 she might have loved him, and the reproach of widowhood would 
 not have belonged to her. These thoughts welled up often from 
 her heart with grief, and yearning only known to herself, and as 
 yet only half admitted : yet which increased sensibly with time, and 
 recurred, too, more frequently and painfully, as girls of her own 
 age, honoured wives and happy mothers — girls who had already taken 
 their places in life — met her at the temple with laughing crowing 
 •children on their hips, proud of their young maternity : or .came to 
 visit her, and spoke of domestic matters commonly — interests which 
 she could never create or enjoy, and yet for which the natural 
 yearning was ever present. 
 
 '* Why did he go from me ? " she would cry to herself, often with 
 low moaning ; " why leave me alone ? Why did they not make me 
 Sutee with him ? Could I not even now be burned, and go to him P " 
 And if these thoughts changed, it was to the idea of a new wife for 
 her father, Avho, perhaps, would be as a sister. If a brother were 
 born, what a new source of pleasant care and occupation ! Yet this 
 had its dark side also. " Would she be friendly to her and her 
 mother ? and if not " 
 
 Her father and mother observed when gloomy thoughts beset her, 
 and when she became excitable and nervous in her manner, and they 
 •did their best to cheer them away. " She might yet be happy in 
 •doing charitable acts," they said, " in reading holy books, in medi- 
 tation, in pilgrimages ; and they would go with her to Benares and 
 live there." *' Why not," the Shastree would say ; " why not, daugh- 
 ter ? We have but thee, and thou hast only us ; it will be good to 
 live and die in the holy city." 
 
 Well, it sufficed for the time, and there were intervals when 
 people^s tongues were quiet, and these were happy days because 
 so tranquil, and Tara had given herself and her destiny into her 
 father's hands. 
 
 _ " Do with me as thou wilt, O father," she said; "what is good 
 to thee is best for me ; but do not risk anything of thy honoured 
 name for one so hopeless as I am. Why should I be a mockery 
 to myself ? It may cost me a pang to part with all these ; " and 
 she would pass her hand through those long, glossy, curling 
 .tresses ; " and ye too will grieve to see them gone, and your poor 
 Tara shaved and degraded ; but there is no help for it, and tlie 
 lionour of your house is more to your daughter than these 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 13 
 
 ornaments. Without them I should be a comfort to ye, and at 
 peace with the world and with myself; with them, only a source 
 of disgrace and calumny, and I were better dead. Yes, let us go 
 to Benares, to Nassuk — anywhere — so that I leave my shame be- 
 hind me.'' 
 
 If that poor struggling heart were laid open, was there nothing in 
 its depths which, as she spoke it, combated this resolve fiercely and 
 unremittingly ? If it had not been so, she would have been more 
 than human. There was the natural repugnant dread of this dis- 
 figurement and disgrace. Worse, far worse, the endurance of the 
 after-life — the life of childless barren widowhood of which she knew 
 and saw daily sad examples. She knew of the bitter experience of 
 such widows, when all modest retirement, respect, and honour of 
 virgin or married life was discarded with the ceremonial rites, and 
 men's insult and women's contempt took their place : and that from 
 this there was no refuge till death. 
 
 When she shuddered at these truths — they were no delusions, and 
 her soul rebelled against them — some ideal being, mingling his life 
 with hers, caressing the beauty she was conscious of possessing, 
 would present himself in dreamy visions, waking or sleeping, and beset 
 her in terribly seductive contrasts. The very books she read offered 
 such to her imagination. There were no demigods now, no heroes 
 fighting for the glory of Hinduism, as related in the Ramayun ; but 
 there were ideal examples of nobility — of bravery — of beauty, which 
 enthralled her fancy, and led it to portray to her realities. Yet there 
 was no reality, and could be none. She had not seen any one to 
 love, and never could see any one. Who would care for her — a 
 - widow — who could love a widow ? And yet the dreams came never- 
 theless, and her poor heart suffered terribly in these contests with 
 its necessity. After all, it was more the calmness of despair than 
 conviction of higher motive which brought to her lips words such 
 as we have recorded : — " she would leave her shame behind her." 
 
 But her parents did not go, and the rites were deferred indefinitely. 
 Last year they were to have gone to Nassuk for the purpose to their 
 relatives ; but the planets were not propitious, or the business of the 
 temple and its ceremonies interfered. This year, when the cold 
 season was nearly over, in the spring, at the Bussunt festival, if the 
 conjunctions were favourable, " they would see about it." They did 
 not get over the — " if." 
 
 So here were the two great cares of the household. Which anii^ 
 the heaviest ? To the Shastree, certainly, Tara's ceremony of widow- 
 hood. His own marriage was a thing which concerned himself only, 
 and, at the worst, he could adopt an heir ; but that Tara should b* 
 a reproach to liim, the revered Shastree and priest, and remain :i 
 reproach among women — it could not be. The caste were becoming- 
 
14 TABA : 
 
 urgent, and tlie Gooroo, or spiritual prince, tlie " SImnkar Bhartee 
 Swami," whose agents travelled about enforcing discipline and re- 
 porting moral and ceremonial transgressions, sent liim word, pri* 
 vately and kindly, that the matter should not be delayed. He 
 quite approved o£ the ceremony being performed at Benares or at 
 jSTassuk, out of sight, for the old man knew Tara — knew her sad 
 history, and admired her learning and perseverance in study. At 
 his last visit, two years before, he had put up in the Shastree's 
 house, and had treated the girl as his daughter ; but the require- 
 ments of the caste were absolute, and were she his own daughter 
 he dared not to have hesitated. 
 
 But we have made a long digression. 
 
 *' Come, daughter," said Anunda, " cast that sheet about thy head. 
 It strikes me that men look at thee too earnestly now as we pass the 
 bazaar, and the morning air is chill from the night rain." 
 
 " Nay, dear mother, not so. Am I a Toorki woman to veil my 
 face?" said Tara, quickly. "Am I ashamed of it? Art thou, 
 mother ? " 
 
 " If thou wert not so beautiful, Tara. I dread men's evil eyes on 
 thee, my child, and I dread men's tongues more." 
 
 " Ah, mother ! I dread neither," replied the girl. *' They have 
 done me no harm as yet, and if my heart is pure and * sutee ' before 
 Grod and the Holy Mother, she will protect me. She has told me 
 so often, and I believe it. Come — I think — I think," she added, 
 with an excited manner, as she clasped her heavy gold zone about 
 her waist, her bosom heaving rapidly beneath the silken folds over 
 it, and her eyes glowing strangely, " I think, mother, she came to 
 me last night in my di^eam. She was very beautiful, O, very beau- 
 tiful ! She took hold of my hair, and said, * Serve me, Tara, I will 
 keep it for thee.' " 
 
 "Tara! art thou dreaming still?" exclaimed Anunda. "Holy 
 Mother ! what light is in thine eyes ? Put the thought far from 
 thee, dearest ; it is but the echo of what thy father said last night 
 when he comforted us both — it will pass away." 
 
 "Perhaps so, mother," answered the girl, abstractedly. " Yet it 
 seemed so real, I think I feel the touch on my hair still. I looked at 
 it when I rose, and combed it out, but I saw nothing. Yes, it will 
 pass away — everything passes away." 
 
 " And what was she like, Tara ? " asked her mother, unable to 
 vepress her cui'iosity. 
 
 " Dftother, I was almost too dazzled to see. I am even now 
 dazzled, and if I shut my eyes the vision is there. There ! " cried 
 the girl, closing her eyes and pointing forward, " there, as I saw it ! 
 The features are the same ; she is small, shining like silver, and her 
 eyes glowing, but not with red fire like those in the temple. O 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE. 15 
 
 motlier, slie is gone! " she continued, after a pause, "she is gone, 
 and I cannot describe her." 
 
 "Didst thou tell this to him — to thy father, Tara? " asked her 
 mother, much excited. 
 
 " Yes, mother. I awoke before him and could not sleep again. I 
 got up and drew Avater for him to bathe. I tended the fire, and sat 
 down to read. Then he went and bathed ; and when ho had come 
 out of the temple* and put on dry clothes, I read part of the 
 ' Greeta ' to him, but I was trembling, and he thought I was cold. 
 Gradually I told him " 
 
 " And what said he, daughter ? " asked her mother, interrupting 
 h-er. 
 
 " He seemed troubled, mother, and yet glad, I could not say which. 
 He said he would ask ' the Mother ' after the morning hymn was 
 ended.'* 
 
 " Come then, Tara, we will go to him at once. I^ay, girl, as thou 
 art, thy words have given me strength, my pearl ; come." 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 The Poorans relate that the goddess Doorga, Kalee, or Bhowani, 
 the wife of Siva, once slew a frightful giant named Muhesha, having 
 the head of a wild buffalo, to the great relief of the people who suf- 
 fered from its existnce ; and Hindus generally believe that this 
 event took place at Tooljapoor in the Dekhan. Toolja is another 
 name for Bhowani or Kalee, and hence Tooljapoor — the city of 
 Toolja. After the monster was slain, and the presence of the god- 
 dess was no longer required on earth, she left the form she had 
 appeared in as witness of what had been done, changed it to stone, 
 and it was in after years discovered in the ravine where the monster 
 had been slain. 
 
 The image still remains where it is alleged to have been first 
 found, and where certain miraculous indications of its presence 
 were made. A temple was built over it, and a town gradually 
 gathered round the temple, which became famous throughout India, 
 and is frequented by pilgrims from all quarters. It is now the idol 
 worshipped there, and is a figure of black marble, or perhaps 
 basalt, highly polished, small, but of elegant proportions, with fea- 
 tures of the pure Hindu type. The eyes are composed of large 
 
 *Most Brahnnins perform their' early morning worship after bathing in col<i 
 water, and with their garments still wet. 
 
16 TABA : 
 
 uncut rubies ; and, as the image stands upon its altar, clothed 
 in a woman's garment, in the small dark sanctum of the temple, 
 they have always a strange, weird, and, to the worshippers, a fasci- 
 nating appearance, glittering through the gloom, and smoke of lamps, 
 and incense always burning. 
 
 The temple is a very picturesque object, from its situation in a 
 deep glen, the bottom of which is nearly filled by it. Pious worship- 
 pers, and votaries from time to time, have enriched it by buildings 
 and courts surrounded by cloisters, ascending one above the other, 
 connected by flights of steps : and in these courts are several cis- 
 terns, filled from springs in the sides of the hill. One of them,, 
 peculiarly sacred, as believed to come from the Ganges, gushes from 
 a cow's mouth carved in the rock, and enters a large basin and 
 reservoir : and in all these cisterns pilgrims to the shrine, both male 
 and female, must bathe before they can worship the image. Crowded 
 by these pilgrims from all parts of India, of various colours and 
 physiognomies, languages and costumes, men and women, — bathing, 
 ascending or descending the broad flights of steps, pouring into the 
 lower courts in dense throngs, chanting mystic adorations, and sing- 
 ing hymns in different languages and accents; it is impossible to 
 conceive a more picturesque or exciting scene than they present on 
 occasions of particular festivals, or, in general, on the day of the full 
 moon of every month. 
 
 The town of Tooljapoor adjoins the temple walls on three sides, 
 and ascends from them — the terraced houses clinging, as it were, to 
 ledges of the rugged glen — on the north and south. On the east, 
 the ascent is more regular ; and the principal street slopes from the 
 crest of the table-land down to the first flight of steps leading to the 
 first court, and thence down successive flights of steps, through other 
 courts, to the lowest, which is the largest, and in which stands the 
 principal shrine, surrounded by cloisters and other buildings. Large 
 tamarind, peepul, and other trees, have grown accidentally among 
 the cliffs around, or have been planted in the courts, and have 
 flourished kindly, affording grateful shade ; so the result, in the 
 mingling of foliage and buildings of many styles in the temple — 
 surrounded by the rugged sides of the ravine, occasionally precipi- 
 tous : — and the terraced houses, temples, and other buildings of the 
 .town above them — is remarkably picturesque, and even beautiful. 
 
 The temple ravine opens into another of large dimensions, which, 
 in the form of an irregular semicircle, is perhaps a mile long by nearly 
 half of a mile at the broadest part of the diameter, narrowing to its* 
 mouth. It is called the Ram Durra, and opens gradually beyond the 
 hills, upon one of the great undulating plains of the Dekhan. To 
 the north, the large ravine presents the appearance of an amphitheatre 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 17 
 
 with precipitous sides, from wliicli, in rainy weather, a number of 
 small but lofty cascades descend from the tableland above, and form 
 the head of a small river which eventually falls into the Bheema. 
 
 The hills which bound the ravine are about four hundred feet high, 
 and are, in fact, the edge of a very extensive plateau called the Bala 
 Ghaut, which extends nearly a hundred miles, with only a slight 
 descent, towards the east ; and, after ascending to the town of Toolja- 
 poor from the ravine, a flat plain is reached, on which the greater 
 portion of the town stands. One promontory of the entrance of tho 
 great ravine juts out past and bounds the temple on the left or south 
 side, and along its face is the road by which the ascent is made from 
 the plain below. The hill then tarns round sharp to the east, with 
 precipitous sides, leaving a level plain of a few hundred yards in 
 width between the town and the declivity. 
 
 On the edge of this precipitous side, to the south, are two other 
 temples, also holy. One, a tall octagon building, now covers the 
 rock on which the goddess is stated to have alighted from heaven 
 when she came to engage the monster who lived in the adjoining 
 ravine ; and the other, a little further on, and much more ancient, is 
 situated at, and encloses the head of a spring which fills a cistern, as 
 it trickles down the precipice at all seasons of the year. This is also 
 a sacred place, and is called ^'Pap-nas," or "the sin destroyer; " and 
 the legend says that the goddess bathed in this spring, and washed 
 the monster's blood from her hands, after she had slain him ; so it is 
 held sacred. 
 
 Truly the whole corner of the plateau is very beautiful. Tho 
 quaint old town hanging literally on the mountain edge : the deep 
 gloQjmy ravine of the temple opening out to the larger one : the 
 precipices and rugged hills to the west and north, and the beautiful 
 undulating plain to the south, over which the eye wanders as over 
 a map for fifty miles or more, checkered with thriving villages and 
 their rich fields and gardens, — form a striking assemblage of objects. 
 But the interest centres in the temple itself, with its gilded spires 
 - and picturesque groups of buildings, as well as its strange effect in 
 the position in which it has been placed, attesting, no doubt, in the 
 opinion of the people— if there were any question on the subject, 
 ' the truth of the legend. 
 
 It will be understood from the foregoing, that the town is situated 
 considerably above the temple, and part of it on the level ground 
 of the plateau . or plain. The Shastree's house was on the edge of 
 the crest of the ground, looking to the south over the ravine of 
 the temple, the cliffs, and a portion of the town beyond, across the 
 small plain which lay between the edge of the temple ravine and the 
 precipitous side of the mountain, and thence over the plain which, 
 in the far distance, mingled with the sky. To the south-east the line 
 ; G 
 
18 TABA : 
 
 of hills was rugged and broken, descending hj steep spurs into the 
 lower plain ; but from its edge, all round to the north, the eye followed 
 a fair, rich country, sloping eastwards, covered with grain-fields, 
 through which the small river Boree, here only a brook, pursued a 
 quiet course among the town gardens. Again, to the north and west, 
 looking into and across the large wild ravine, were the precipices of 
 the Ram Durra, and the rugged basalt hills beyond them. So, 
 wherever yon turned, it was a fair or wild scene alternately ; and 
 standing npon the terrace of the Shastree's house, or sitting in a small 
 chamber which had been built over one of the corner rooms, you 
 could see all that has been told ; and very beautiful it was. 
 
 The Shastree had travelled in his pilgrimages all over India. He 
 had seen wilder and grander scenes perhaps, but none pleasanter to 
 live in, than this cool, breezy, healthful mountain town, enhanced 
 by the presence of one of the holiest shrines in the country. Here 
 he must bear his misfortune calmly ; and though his necessity urged 
 the change we have alluded to, he never issued from his door and 
 looked over the fair prospect about him, or performed the sacrificial 
 ceremonies at the temple, without being strengthened in his desire to 
 live and die here ; and therefore the struggle in regard to his daughter 
 was the more bitter. 
 
 That morning he had risen unref reshed — his sleep had been restless. 
 Something in one of the books he had been explaining to Tara in 
 the evening had brought up the subject of widowhood and its con- 
 sequences and obligations, and the message of his spiritual prince had 
 been discussed with much grief and misery to all. There seemed to 
 be no evasion of them possible — the rites must be fulfilled ; and he 
 had again spoken of Benares, and Tara had simply and meekly 
 given herself into his hands, and prostrated herself before him and 
 her mother in submission. She was no doubt excited; and her first 
 communication in the morning startled him exceedingly. 
 
 You, O Christian reader ! must not try his feelings by your own 
 standard. You live under a holier and simpler faith. If in the 
 ordinary occurrences of life, and its joys and sorrows, there is little 
 difference between you, it is very different in regard to faith. You 
 have but one object of calm, loving, trustful, humble adoration. He, 
 as all educated Hindus, believed in the same one God, but it was 
 overlaid by a gorgeous and picturesque mythology, and two dis- 
 tinctions of — as he believed them to be — heavenly beings, to whom 
 separately and collectively worship was due, and yet whose interests 
 and designs were so different and apparently irreconcilable. 
 
 His household faith was for the most part a pure theism ; but 
 
 * circumstances arising out of hereditary rights had placed him at the 
 
 head of the local worship of the dread goddess, whom, either lovingly 
 
 or in deprecation of her possible wrath, he worshipped daily. But 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 19 
 
 the worsMp of Doorga or Bhowani, as tlie wife of tlie creating and 
 preserving power in Ker beneficence, and of the same power in her 
 destroying aspect — in her wrath terrible and unrelenting — is perhaps 
 more fascinating to women than to men ; and, alternating with both 
 aspects, a woman, in all moods and in all necessities, may most 
 naturally perhaps apply to another woman, in whose power she 
 believes, for sympathy and assistance. Has it not ever been so ? 
 G-reek, Roman, Egyptian, Indian — nay, even Christian ? 
 
 Nevertheless the Shastree believed, not lovingly perhaps, but in 
 deprecation of wrath ; while his wife and daughter, unable to follow 
 the mystically subtle metaphysical creeds of the Yeds and Shastras, 
 saw in their goddess enough to fill their hearts with practical faith 
 in, and reliance upon, her power over their destinies. To her, both 
 had addressed their vows and daily supplications, very simply and 
 earnestly, for this devotion of their lives to her was all they could 
 give, if their prayers were granted. 
 
 ^Vliat wonder, then, that Tara's vision agitated him ? The Shas- 
 tree knew of many women on whom the spirit of the goddess in 
 divine afflatus had descended. They were possessed by her : they 
 spoke and prophesied when they were full 01 her presence : and he 
 dreaded them while he worshipped the power displayed. As Tara 
 told him her dream, and the service the goddess had asked, could it 
 be real ? Could his daughter, as an inspired priestess, ever speak 
 before the image ? That, however, must be tried without delay, 
 and he hastened more rapidly than usual to the temple, having bid 
 her follow when her mother was ready. 
 
 He arrived as the ceremonies of bathing and dressing the image 
 were being performed by the inferior priesthood, and, these concluded, 
 the morning service began. We need not detail it- — the decking of 
 the altar with flowers, the marking the forehead of the image with 
 the sacred colours, the o:fferings of daily food and sacred elements 
 with flowers, and the singing of mystic hymns. Vyas Shastree was 
 speedily joined by other Brahmuns and priests, and bare-headed, 
 naked to the waist, carrying the sacred fire and sacrificial offerings, 
 and chanting hymns with the accompaniment of clashing cymbals and 
 lutes. Thus the procession was passing round and round the temple, 
 and the simple but strange melody rising and falling amidst the build- 
 ings, trees, and cliffs, and filling the ravine with sound, as Tara and 
 her mother gained the outer gate, and began to descend the steps 
 which led to the lower court. 
 
 Ordinarily they did not bathe in the sacred cistern where, from 
 the carved stone cow's mouth, the stream of the holy spring gushed 
 sparkling into the basin ; but Tara paused as they passed it. She 
 had felt more and more excited as she neared the temple, and the 
 melody of the hymn and the clashing of the cymbals, as they came 
 
20 TABA : 
 
 up together tlirougli the trees in the still air, had added to the 
 cfiect already produced in her mind by her dream. 
 
 "Mother," she said, hesitatingly — "mother, ought I not to bathe 
 lii3re ? Can I go into the presence, even with these garments on 
 me, after what the Holy Mother said last night ? They should be 
 wet and pure." 
 
 "It is too cold for thee, my child," replied Anunda. "Come, 
 Tara, come on ; the hymn will be finished ere we can join — come." 
 
 " ^o, mother, I am hot — burning ; something urges me to the 
 well, and I cannot resist it. Mother, I must be pure before the 
 shrine. May I go ? " 
 
 " The spirit of the goddess is with her, truly," thought her mother. 
 " Go, Tara, it may refresh thee," she said ; " and there are dry 
 clothes in the temple. Go, be quick, my child ! " 
 
 The girl descended the steps into the basin, and, turning to the 
 east, poured libations from her hands to the four quarters of the 
 earth ; then the three libations to the sun, saying a short hymn from 
 the Yeda. Then followed her prayer to the goddess. "Holy 
 Mother, do what thou wilt with me ; take me, leave me, or use me 
 as thou wilt, but do not cast me away! Behold, I come! ' Then 
 she stepped forth from the basin, her silk garment clinging to her 
 ►sweet form, and revealing its perfect proportions more than the 
 innate modesty of her mind permitted ; hastily, therefore, she shook 
 it free from her limbs, while her mother wrung the water ^f rom the 
 ends. 
 
 "lam ready now," she said, simply; "come, mother, I will go 
 to her pure, and sit before her. If she wants Tara she will speak. 
 Come ! " 
 
 Her mother had observed her glistening eye and glowing cheek, 
 which even the chill of the water did not subdue, and seeing the 
 expression of her face, as she ascended from the basin, was changed 
 from its habitual sadness to one of excited triumph, she caught the 
 infection herself, and seized Tara by the hand. " Come," she cried, 
 " Jey Kalee," " Victory to Kalee ! " And so they descended the 
 steps more rapidly, while the music of the hymn and the clash of 
 the deep-toned cymbals resounded through the lower court, and 
 seemed to be echoed and repeated in the cliffs and buildings above 
 and around them. 
 
 The procession of Brahmuns and priests was turning the corner 
 of the temple as Tara and her mother met it in the full swell of the 
 music. TJsaally the girl and her mother fell in behind, reverentially 
 and calmly, and followed it as it passed round. Now, however, the 
 Shastree and his companions were amazed to see Tara separate her- 
 self from her mother, and put herself at the head of the party, toss 
 her arms into the air, and join in the hymn they were singing — 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 21 
 
 leading tliem on more rapidly tlian they liad moved before, Tlie 
 Sliastree marked tliat slie ^had bathed, and that lier wet garments 
 dripped as she went along. " She is pnre," be tbonght ; " she has 
 prepared herself, and if the goddess will take her, it is her will. 
 There is something in this that cannot be stayed." 
 
 The other Brahmuns stopped, still chanting, and looked to Vyas 
 Shastree with wonder for some explanation, which was as qnickly 
 given. " The goddess spoke to her last night, and will not be re- 
 pelled," he said. " Go on, do not stop her ; let her do as she hsts." 
 
 No one dared stop her, or touch Tara. The height of excitement, 
 or, as they thonght, inspiration, was in her eye, and that sweet face 
 was lifted up with a holy rapture. She seemed to fly rather than to 
 walk, so completely had her feelings carried her forT\"ard ; and as 
 she moved she looked behind to those following, still chanting with 
 them, her arms waved above her head, and beckoning them onwards. 
 They could not resist the influence. So they passed on, round and 
 round the temple, still singing. Other morning worshippers, at- 
 tracted by the strange sight, joined them, or stood by wondering 
 till the hymn was finished. Then Tara, noticing no one, entered 
 the porch of the temple rapidly, and advancing alone, knelt down 
 before the door of the inner shrine in front of the image, and they 
 watched her silently. 
 
 What did she see to cause that earnest look ? The image was 
 familiar to all. The light of the lamps within shone out strongly on 
 the kneeling figure, shrouded in its wet clinging drapery, but hardly 
 illuminated the gloomy space in the deep outer vestibule, around 
 which the spectators arranged themselves reverentially. The ruby 
 eyes of the goddess glittered with a weird brilliance from among 
 the cloud of incense burning before her ; and the fragrant smoke, 
 issuing from the door, wreathed itself about her form and ascended 
 to the roof, and hung about the pillars of the room. 
 
 Those looking on almost expected the image would move, or speak, 
 in greeting or in reprehension of the young votary, and the silence 
 was becoming almost oppressive when the girl's lips moved: "Mother," 
 she cried, in her low musical voice — ''Mother! O Holy Mother! 
 Tara is here before thee. What wouldst thou of her?" And she 
 leant forward, swinging her body to and fro restlessly, and stretch- 
 ing forth her hands. " Mother, take me or leave me, but do not cast 
 me away ! " She could only repeat this simple prayer, for the yearn- 
 ing at her heart could find no other words ; but her bosom heaved 
 as though it would burst the bodice, and her hands and arms, with 
 her whole frame, trembled violently. 
 
 " She is possessed, brother," said another priest to her father. 
 '' What hath come to her ? When did this happen ? " 
 
 " Peace," said the father, in a hoarse whisper ; '' disturb her not : 
 
22 TABA: 
 
 let what will happen, even if she die. She is in hands more powerful 
 than onrs, and we are helpless. O Tara, my child ! my child ! " 
 
 " Mother, dost thou hear ? I will do thy bidding," again murmured 
 the girl. " Come, come ! as thou wast in my dream. So come to 
 Tara ! Ah, yes, she comes to me ! Yes, Holy Mother, I am with thee;" 
 and, stretching forth her arms, she sank down on her face, shuddering. 
 
 " She is dying ; my child! my pearl ! " cried her mother, frantically, 
 who had been with difficulty restrained and who rushed forward, 
 "Will none of ye help?" 
 
 *' Touch her not, Anunda," exclaimed her husband, holding her 
 back ; " this brooks no interference. Let her lie and do as the Mother 
 would wish her; this will pass away." So they gathered round Tara 
 and watched her. She was tranquil now, not shuddering : the fair 
 round arms were stretched put towards the shrine, and the light 
 fell on the rippled glossy hair, which had escaped from the knot 
 behind, and hung over her face and neck, shrouding them in its 
 heavy waves. 
 
 " Let us chant the hymn to the praise of Doorga," said the old 
 Pundit who had before spoken ; " brothers, this is no ordinary occur- 
 rence. Many come and feign the divine afflatus, but there hath been 
 nothing so strange as this in my memory ; " and, striking a few 
 chords on the vina he held in his hand, the hymn — a strange wild 
 cadence — was begun. The sound filled the vaulted chamber, and was 
 taken up by those outside, who crowded the entrance. Still she 
 moved not, but lay tranquilly ; the full chorus of the men's voices 
 and the clashing of the cymbals were not apparently heeded by her. 
 As it died away, there was a faint movement of the arms, and 
 gradually she raised herself to her knees, tossed back the hair from 
 her face and neck, which fell over her shoulders and back, and 
 looked around her wildly for a moment ; then, seeing her mother, 
 she leaned towards her as she advanced, and, stretching forth her 
 arms and clasping her knees, hid her face in her garment, and sobbed 
 convulsively. 
 
 " My child, I am here ; I am with thee," said Anunda, supporting 
 her, and herself sobbing hysterically. " Speak ! what is it ? What 
 hast thou seen p My daughter, my sweet one, O speak to us !" 
 
 "Water, mother, water! my throat is parched! I cannot speak. 
 Is she gone ?" 
 
 "Who, Tara?" 
 
 "The Holy Mother; she was with me — she entered into me. 
 mother, what can I do ? Where am I ? " 
 
 " Here is water for thee, Tara; drink." 
 
 She tried to do so, but gasped at every attempt; at last she 
 swallowed a little, and was relieved. " She was not angry, mother," 
 she said, smiling. " Did you not hear her speak ? What did I 
 answer?" 
 
I 
 
 A MAHRATTA TALE. 23 
 
 "No, my child," said her father; "thou wert silent, and we 
 feared the goddess had taken thy spirit ; but thou livest, and we are 
 grateful." 
 
 Tara turned to her father with an imploring look for silence, and 
 again, but now calmly, prostrated herself before the image, while 
 the brilHant ruby eyes seemed, to those who beheld them, to glow 
 still more brightly through the smoke of the incense. 
 
 "Holy Mother of the gods," she said, in a low voice of prayer, 
 *' I am thy slave. I fear thee no longer. Blessed Mother, I will love 
 thee, who art kind to Tara. . . . Here will I live and die with 
 thee according to thy word." Then she arose and continued to him : 
 " Come, father; behold, I am calm now." 
 
 " She is accepted, brethren," said the old priest, turning to the 
 others ; "let us do her honour. With no life for the world, let her 
 widowhood remain in the Mother's keeping : she has chosen her, let 
 no man gainsay it. Come, daughter, let me mark thee as she would 
 have it done ; " and, entering the shrine, he took several of the gar- 
 lands from the neck of the image, and a small vessel containing 
 water in which were the leaves of the sacred Toolsee ; dipping his 
 finger into which, he marked her gently on the forehead, sprinkling 
 some on her head, on which he placed his hands as he said the 
 incantation which denoted the presence of the divinity. Then he 
 hung the garlands about her neck, and the fragrant red powder of 
 the morning sacrifice being handed to him, he drew some gently 
 across her forehead and bade her stand up. 
 
 " Jey Toolja ! " " Victory to Toolja ! " was shouted by the atten- 
 dant priests and worshippers. "Victory to the Holy Mother!" 
 " Victory to her votary ! " " Let us take her in procession ! " " Let 
 us go with her ! " cried all around. 
 
 "Ah, no, friends," said the girL, rising modestly; "ye see but a 
 poor helpless child who was in grief, and whom the Mother has com- 
 forted. Leave me ! let me go ! I would go home. Mother, take 
 me away ! Father, do thou come with me ! " 
 
 " It may not be, daughter," said the old priest, kindly ; "we must 
 neglect nothing, else it were dangerous for thee and for us. Bring 
 a palkee," he shouted to the attendant priests, "and get the music 
 ready, and flowers too, and o:fferings for the Pap-nas. Yes, brother," 
 he continued to her father, "for once I usurp thy oflBlce ; thou 
 knowest what is needed. Come, let us not delay." 
 
 Tara looked imploringly at her father ; she would fain have 
 escaped the public procession if she could. She only wanted now to 
 get home unperceived, and to hide herself in her chamber. What 
 had she done to be so honoured — to be so noticed ? 
 
 "It must be, my child," he said; "this cannot be begun and 
 abandoned ; let not thy heart fail thee, the Holy Mother will be with 
 thee. Come!" 
 
24 TAB A: 
 
 Tara yielded : slie bent reyerently before tbe old priest, and toncbed 
 bis feet, tben ber father's, and going i^ound tbe Brabmuns assembled 
 sbe did tlie same ; last of all ber motber's, wbo was sobbing, yet not 
 in sorrow. '^ Come," sbe said. " I am ready ; do witb me as ye list. 
 Ye are my elders, and I obey." 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 -So tbey led Tara fortb and placed ber in tbe open palankeen, and, as 
 they decked ber witb flowers, and strewed garlands over its canopy, 
 tbe temple music struck up a joyous marriage measure. Tben, as 
 tbe bearers moved gently forward, ber f atber and motber bolding tbe 
 sides of tbe litter, tbe priests arranged tbemselves on all sides of it, 
 and began anotber solemn cbant of victory to tbe goddess. 
 
 By tbis time, news of tbe event bad passed on into tbe town, and 
 it was tbe bour wben all tbe peo^^le were astir. Men and women, 
 collected in groups, beard strange tales of bow tbe goddess bad ap- 
 peared to Tara and taken ber away to beaven ; again, tbat sbe bad 
 died before tbe sbrine, and tbey were bringing away ber body. Tbe 
 general conviction was, tbat sbe bad died, and many women, collected 
 in knots, were weeping bitterly and beating tbeir breasts. But as 
 tbe temple trumpets and concbs blew a sudden and quivering blast, 
 and tbe glad music was beard witb tbe cbant, now rising, now falling, 
 as tbe procession slowly ascended tbe steps, and traversed tbe court, — 
 and at last, as it emerged from tbe gateway and entered tbe broad 
 street wbicb led to tbe centre of tbe town, — tbe popular entbusiasm 
 knew no bounds. " Jey Toolja ! " " Jey Kalee ! " " Bome ! Bome ! " 
 tbe cries of victory — were taken up from'tbose wbo led tbe proces- 
 sion, leaping and sbouting. Many ran for incense or for garlands : 
 men and women tbronged from street and alley and joined the pro- 
 cession as it moved up ; others stood u 23on tbe terraces of their bouses 
 and waved garments or handkerchiefs, or hung out cloths from the 
 balconies and windows. *' Jey Toolja ! " " Jey Bhowani ! " shouted 
 all who came. Pilgrims from the Ganges, Sunniasis holding aloft 
 their withered arms ; Gosaees witb their orange clothes and matted 
 locks, strange, A\ald, eerie folk, — issued from archways Avhere they 
 liad slept, or vaults where they had lodged ; and still the crowd 
 swelled, and the shouting, and through all, and over all, the solemn 
 chant and the hoarse and shrill quivering notes of the trumpets. 
 
 Few knew why this was, but the procession advanced out of the 
 temple gate, so it belonged to it ; and as the girl passed, seated calmly 
 now in her litter, flowers were cast on ber, incense was burned 
 l>efore ber, and fragrant powder thrown over her, with blessings » 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 25 
 
 Her old friends, the flower-sellers, emptied their morning baskets of 
 jessamine over her, and touched her feet reverentially ; and the old 
 confectioner, who had always kept a sweet morsel for his young 
 friend, threw showers of comfits upon her litter, and in his excite- 
 ment generously flung the contents of his baskets among the crowd. 
 So they passed on, through the eastern gate, and over the plain 
 which led to the Pap-nas temple, and the sun was now rising over 
 the distant purple hills in great glory among gorgeous golden clouds. 
 As the first beams fell upon the procession, the priests changed their 
 hymn to that in adoration of the Sun, from the Yedas, which we 
 adopt from a free translation : — 
 
 " Eisen in majestic blaze, 
 Lo, the Universe's eye, 
 Vast and wondrous host of rays, 
 Shineth brightly in the sky. 
 * * • • • 
 
 ''See, he followeth the Dawn, 
 Brilliant in the path above. 
 As a youth by beauty drawn 
 Seeks the maiden of his love. 
 
 " Hear ns, O ye gods, this day ! 
 Hear us graciously, we pray ; 
 As the Sun his state begins, 
 Free ns from all heinous sins. 
 
 '' Mitra, Varun, Aditi — 
 
 Hear, O hear us graciously ! 
 Powers of Ocean, Earth, and Air, 
 Listen, listen, to our prayer."* 
 
 And the people still shouted the cry of the goddess, or joined in the 
 hymn of the priests, till the small temple was reached. 
 
 The ceremonies there were brief and simple. Tara bathed in the 
 sin-cleansing basin, but she would not change her wet garments, still 
 resisting her mother. Once more were holy texts and incantations 
 said over her by all the priests collectively ; and for the last time they 
 led her round and round the little shrine and court of the springv 
 chanting a hymn of praise ; her father leading, but submitting to the 
 old priest who has already been mentioned. It was finished, and 
 her new life began. The excitement which had possessed her and 
 carried her on was already passing away, and giving place to a sick 
 weariness and irrepressible languor, which not only her face but her 
 limbs expressed. 
 
 " She will need careful tending for a long time, brother,*' said the 
 old priest to her father. " Give her a cooling drink of toolsee and 
 
 * " Specimens of Old Indian Poetrv, translated from the original Sanskrit.'* 
 By E. T. H. Griffith, A.M. 
 
26 TAEA : 
 
 tamarinds, sweetened with honey ; put her into dry elotlies, and let 
 lier rest quietly ; she may not even speak for many days ; for so I 
 have known it. Let us take her home." 
 
 *' I am thankful to ye all, friends and brethren," said the Shastree, 
 much affected. " This manifestation hath filled me with many cares, 
 for we were not votaries of the goddess. Now she hath come into the 
 house, and the service she exacts is rigid, yet we will obey and do 
 her will. If ye will depart and leave us, take my blessing." 
 
 ^'Nay, say not so," cried all who were near. "Let us take her 
 home ; and in honour and duty let this rite be finished." So the pro- 
 cession was again formed, and in the same order that it had reached 
 the temple, it again returned to the town-gate, and wound through 
 the streets, thronged with curious gazers, to the door of the Shastree's 
 dwelling, where the priest and Brahmuns were dismissed with thanks 
 and those only remained who were specially bidden to do so. 
 
 Tara's exhaustion h&^d been increasing since the ceremony was con- 
 cluded ; and the wet garments about her, which had not been felt 
 while the excitement lasted, now struck a chill into her which even 
 dry clothes, cast over her by her mother, did not remove. She could 
 not speak, and could hardly move from the litter as it was set down ; 
 and when, supported by her mother and the servants, she reached 
 the inner apartment, she sank helplessly in her mother's arms. But 
 she was now in gentle, careful hands, and at rest ; and though she 
 did not speak as yet, her grateful looks ere long expressed all the 
 consciousness her mother longed to see. 
 
 She had ever after only a confused recollection of what had oc- 
 curred ; and even as they came home there was a vacancy in her 
 look which had seriously alarmed her parents. Her father could 
 remember many such votaries, in whom the light of reason had been 
 j utterly quenched, and he trembled for his daughter. We can account 
 for the occurrence by rational causes: a long- continued mental ex- 
 citement and suppressed care brought on by the nature of her own 
 ' belief in, to her, that goddess of dread power, yet of sympathy with 
 human requirements, — and its hysterical effect ; but to her father, 
 and more so to her mother, as also to all the priests of the temple and 
 people of the town, it was a manifestation of the divine interest, and 
 ! a claiming of the girl for her own peculiar service. 
 
 We will not follow the conference between the Shastree and his 
 friends, which related to ceremonies to be performed and sacrifices 
 to be offered : nothing must be neglected. One of them was the 
 resident agent of the spiritual prince before alluded to, who had only 
 a few days before delivered the friendly warning, now unneeded. 
 " The Mother hath settled this matter herself, friends," he said, 
 *' and no one can resist it ; we will write collectively to the * Swami,' 
 ^nd tell him of it ; he, too, will be assured that this divine favour is 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 27 
 
 the result of Yyas Sliastree's piety, and his daughter's devotion to 
 religions rites ; better this than worldly allurements and ties, sweet as 
 they are." 
 
 There was no dissentient voice. J^or in the town, nor among the 
 caste, could any one impugn the act. It had been involuntary and 
 public. Thousands had witnessed it, and they bore testimony of the 
 holy fervour which had animated all who accompanied Tara from the 
 temple. All seemed to have caught a portion of the divine manif esta4 
 tion and enthusiasm. 
 
 So every one said that the beautiful daughter of Yyas Shastree 
 had become a Moorlee or priestess of the temple, and that the goddess 
 herself had called her from her disgrace of widowhood to the glory 
 ,pf her own service. Was not this better than worldly ties ? Now 
 she was free ! 
 
 Did Tara think so ? It was many weeks ere the feverish excitement 
 passed away, during which the loving eyes glowed with unnatm^al 
 lustre, and a fierce fire seemed to possess her. It was to be expected ; 
 and she had skilful and tender attendance. With perfect rest and 
 quiet, and simple remedies, it would pass away, they said, and it did 
 so gradually, and Tara arose weaker, but calm. By-and-by she would 
 be allowed to make her sacrificial offerings, but not yet ; and till 
 then her beloved books, the household worship, and occupation, were 
 enough to occupy her. 
 
 " Time enough," said the old Pundit, who frequently visited her 
 and had become interested in her, "with a life of service to be done. 
 When you are strong you shall come to us, but not till then." 
 
 Was Tara satisfied ? If the dread of her shame had been removed, 
 the void in her heart had not as yet been filled ; but the new life had 
 to begin, and she would do her best, and so she comforted herself. 
 
 Were others satisfied ? Yes. As we have said, most who knew her 
 envied her lot, but some sneered, and already shook their heads. 
 
 One man had looked at the distraught girl, as she was placed in 
 the litter and covered with garlands, who was satisfied, yet not as the 
 rest. More beautiful in the unconsciousness of her excitement than 
 he had ever seen her before, — far more so, to his sight, than she had 
 ever appeared while ordinarily attending the temple worship with 
 her mother, and where he had watched her for months past, Moro 
 Trimmul had joined the throng in order to observe her better. 
 Being a Brahmun, he had closed up to the edge of the litter bare- 
 headed and unnoticed, singing the hymns as one of the attendant 
 priests, and had thus been able to accompany the procession, gloating 
 upon the girl's loveliness with an unholy desire. As the litter was 
 taken up he fell out of the procession, and, watching it depart, sat 
 down alone on the edge of the cliff looking over the plain, and by 
 the side of the small stream wjiich, issuing from the Pap-nas temple, 
 
28 TAJRA : 
 
 fell down the face* of the rock in a sheet of foam. A girVs voice 
 aroused him from a reverie which we dare not follow^. 
 
 " So the Pundit is not dancing back to the tow^n as he came out, 
 before the new Moorlee/' she said ironically. 
 
 " 'NoY thou either, Gunga. Dost thou not welcome a new 
 priestess ? " 
 
 " I marvel at it," she continued, with a sneer ; " thou wast looking 
 jenough at her. I dance before her ? When she dances wdtli us 
 before the Mother, then she will be a true Moorlee — not else. Now 
 I hate her ; I shall always hate her.'* 
 
 '• Ah ! she will never join ye," he returned ; " she is of another sort 
 than the rest of ye : Gunga, thou art jealous of her beauty, girl," 
 
 " By the Holy Mother, she shall not remain so, Moro Trimmul. 
 She — a widow — to think of setting herself above us ! That cat-faced 
 gii^l ! If she has chosen to serve the Mother she must obey her rules, 
 and be one of us. Think ye we w^ill let her come there nnless she 
 is ? " 
 
 The Brahmun shook his head. " I was thinking about her," he 
 said, absently. 
 
 The girl sighed. " I thought so," she replied, " and thou wilt love 
 me no more — no more now. Is it not so ? say it, if it is to be so." 
 
 " Love thee ! " returned the man, bitterly — "yes, as thou canst be 
 loved — by gold. Hark ye, Gunga, make her as thou art ; get her 
 into my power, and I will give thee a waistbelt of gold." 
 As heavy as hers ?" cried the girl, excitedly. 
 
 " Then shalt weigh the one against the other and thine shalt turn 
 the scale — will that content thee ?" 
 
 " Wilt thou ? — shall it ? Swear on my neck and my feet to give 
 this, and I will do thy wdll. Yes, to humble her pride and her 
 father's — who drove me from the temple one day, and I have hated 
 him ever since. I shall hate thee too, afterwards ; yet I wall do it," 
 cried the girl, excitedly, clapping her hands — " yet I will do it." 
 
 '' I swear," said the man, touching her neck. " Come and sit here 
 by me." She did so, but neither spoke for some time. 
 
 " Thou hast a sister, Moro Pundit, and she is beautiful. She 
 ought to have been married ere this. A little more time, and can it 
 be done ?" she said, breaking the silence. 
 
 The Brahmun winced. " She was betrothed once," he said, " but 
 the man died." 
 
 " Perhaps she was married," continued the girl, wath a sneer, " and 
 she is as Tara Bye, or worse. Is it not so ? " 
 
 *' No ! by the Holy Mother, no ! " cried the Pundit, sharply, and 
 with flashing eyes. " Breathe such a thing and I will have thy life. 
 Beware what thou sayest, even to me ! A word more, ^nd I fling 
 thee down the precipice ! " 
 
A IIAinUTTA TALK 2t) 
 
 "0, I fear not for my life," said the girl, carelessly, " the Mother 
 takes care of that, and I will say nothing, lest I should lose my 
 pretty gold zone. But what of thy sister ? The Shastree wants a 
 new wife, we hear ; Anunda Bye wants a son to cheer her and him, 
 and why should not thy sister be taken there ? If I do not err, she 
 can have her chance. She is of a good age — why not ? Could she 
 understand what to do ? Could she be taught ?" 
 
 *' Ah ! " said the Pundit, abstractedly, " I had thought of it too, but 
 
 it seemed impossible. I do not know him — yes — if " 
 
 " If ? — why if ? Art thou afraid ? The girl is here — ^let me see 
 her and know her, and leave the rest to us." 
 
 " Gunga," said the Brahmun, after a pause. " If thou canst 
 bring this about — if thou canst get me speech of this Shastree " 
 
 " Let me speak to the girl first. ' Radha,' that is her name, is it 
 not ? Let me see if she is resolute and as I hear of her. If she be, 
 she shall have her desire ; thou shalt have thine ; and I — ah, yes ! I 
 will have more gold. Yes," she cried, clapping her hands again, 
 "more gold! I will have gold anklets, like Tara's. Why should 
 she wear gold anklets and mine be only silver ? Wilt thou give 
 them ? — all I can hope, now she hath taken thy love from me ~" 
 
 " When my sister is Yy as Shastree's wife thou mayst have what 
 thou wilt, Gunga. I swear it to thee on thy neck and feet. Art 
 thou content ? Yes, thou shalt see her now. Manage the matter as 
 ye will, women's wits are sharper than mine. Kow follow me un- 
 observed," he said, rising. 
 
 "Once more, Moro Pundit," continued Gunga, "tell me if the 
 marriage can be performed now ? Is there a fitting conjunction of 
 planets ? — within a month ? " 
 
 " Yes ; till the l^ow Batree ; after that not for a long time." 
 
 "Enough to do, enough to do, in the time," muttered the girl to 
 herself. " Hast thou any women with thee — any relations ? " 
 
 "Yes, her mother's sister — a widow; no more. Our mother is 
 dead, my father is dead, and there are only ourselves left of a large 
 family." 
 
 " Then the Shastree will like the connection all the better, and — 
 ye are rich, they say. Yes, I will bring the widow and Anunda to- 
 gether." 
 
 " We have enough. In that respect I can satisfy the Shastree fully." 
 
 "Ah! he will ask no questions. His wife is shrewd and clever, 
 and will guide him," she replied ; " but he will be careful about the 
 horoscope of thy sister, for he is a great astrologer." 
 
 "My aunt is wise, as you will find when you know her; and 
 as for the rest, Gunga, it is in my hands. I, too, am an astrologer 
 and can cast Badha's nativity as I please." 
 
 The girl laughed heartily. " Yes, it will answer," she said. '' Xow 
 
30 TARA 
 
 go by that patli ; we must not Be seen together. I will come to thee 
 before noon ; we have no time to lose. Only remember thine oath, 
 Moro Trimmul, and beware how thou triest to evade or deceive me. 
 
 I would not hurt thee willingly ; and for the sake of • No matter 
 
 now," she continued, gulping down what was rising in her throat, 
 "no matter now. It is gone — I see no more of it in thine eyes." 
 
 " I am in thy hands, Grunga, and may be trusted," he replied ; " nay, 
 more, there may be better days for thee yet, girl " 
 
 "No — no more. No more like the old ones," she said, shaking 
 her head mournfully. " Only the gold now — only the gold ! " 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 " Yes, surely it is strange that the two nativities should fit so 
 exactly," said Vyas Shastree to himself, some days after the events 
 recorded in the last chapter, as, seated by himself upon his dais, 
 and having given orders not to be disturbed, he appeared absorbed 
 in a table of nativity which lay before him ; " yes, it is strange indeed. 
 The date of birth, the signs under which she was born, and the few 
 calculations which have been made by a master hand, all agree, as 
 they ought to do ; and the result, as I have worked it out, is clear 
 enough. This girl, born at Wye, an utter stranger to me hitherto, 
 and brought here by a chance pilgrimage, is proposed for me ; and 
 Anunda, Tara, and the old Josee will have it so. Yes, it is a curious 
 coincidence indeed ; but let me test these f ormulge again ; there may 
 be error." 
 
 While the Shastree is busy with some curiously abstruse calcula- 
 tions upon his own and the other horoscope he is considering, we 
 must digress a little, to show by what steps Gunga's plans, roughly 
 shadowed out to Moro Trimmul, as we have recorded, were appa- 
 rently fast approaching a satisfactory completion. 
 
 Negotiations had been satisfactorily opened by Anunda with Sukya 
 Bye, the aunt of Moro Trimmul. This lady had, indeed, already 
 become a great favourite with Anunda and Tara, and she had been 
 guided in her intercourse with them by the directions of Gunga. 
 Eventually, the question of marriage, or otherwise, having passed 
 the ladies favourably, rested with the Shastree himself. 
 
 The contrivances by which this result had been brought about wer'e 
 apparently too simple to cause suspicion. Yet they had been produced 
 by carefully designed arrangement. It was first of all necessary tO' 
 get Sukya Bye and Anunda acquainted, and this was brought about 
 at the temple on the night of the ceremonies of the last full moon. 
 The wife of the chief priest had the power to render the perform-^ 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 31 
 
 ance of the necessary worship convenient to any one she pleased. 
 She could direct special attendance by assistant priests on her 
 friends, and could reserve seats for them, on which they could see 
 and hear to the best advantage. So as Sukya Bye, whose figure 
 and dress bespoke her rank and respectability, was apparently vainly 
 endeavouring to reach the shrine to make her oJffierings with other 
 women, — Gunga, seeing her hustled and pushed about, assisted her 
 as far as possible ; and, feigning to be unable to do more, appealed 
 to Anunda, ivho had herself noticed the old lady's struggles, for 
 assistance to her. 
 
 Sukya Bye was one with whom it was no degradation to be seen asso- 
 ciating. Her tall figure, dressed in the richest of plain silk garments, 
 and the heavy gold rings she wore round her arms, wrists, and 
 ankles, betokened wealth, as did her shaved head that she was a 
 widow ; and the stout Mahratta serving- men, who, armed with sword 
 and buckler, attended her, proved that she was of some rank, certainly 
 of very respectable position. 
 
 Grunga had left her under Anunda's care, and ere the ceremony 
 was concluded the ladies had become excellent friends. It will be- 
 remembered that Anunda herself was from the western provinces of 
 the Dekhan, and the dialect and intonation of the lady Sukya sounded 
 pleasantly in her ears. Questions were asked, some mutual acquaint- 
 ances discovered, and a visit by Anunda soon followed. 
 
 Moro Trimmul, his aunt, and sister, lived or lodged but a short dis- 
 tance from the Shastree, and it soon came to pass that the ladies 
 visited each other frequently. Sukya had a point to gain, so had her 
 w niece Radha, and both worked in concert with the girl Gunga, to- 
 whom whatever happened was related. Her fresh instructions from; 
 day to day guided them perfectly,- not only to gaining the good will 
 of mother and daughter, but of establishing a more affectionate in- 
 terest in their concerns than would otherwise have arisen out of a 
 common acquaintance. 
 
 Sukya, proud of her own birth and connections, found Anunda 
 perfectly in accord with herself on that subject. She saw the wealth 
 and comfort of the house, she led Anunda to detail their domestic 
 cares, and offered her sympathy, which was accepted. " Ah, yes, if 
 the Shastree would only marry again ! " said Anunda to her in con- 
 fidence, ''and there should be a son born, they would take him to- 
 Benares and devote him to Siva. They had wealth ; yet without 
 this it was a weight and a care to them, which increased rather 
 than diminished." 
 
 During these visits of confidence between the elders, Tara and 
 Radlia had their own pleasant time too, and Tara's trustful nature was 
 easily won by the other. Radha was ignorant, it was true, but she 
 was to all appearance open-hearted and simple, and she soon learned 
 
TABA : 
 
 to feign that reverential yet intimate association with the beautiful 
 widow and her mother, which Gunga counselled, and which was 
 indeed necessary to the success of the whole scheme. 
 
 For some days Anunda made no communication to Sukya Bye of 
 the subject nearest her heart ; but as she saw the intimacy of the 
 two girls increase, and that the intercourse had served to turn Tara's 
 thoughts into new channels, and also that she herself, as she gradu- 
 ally gained strength, always found some pretext for a daily visit to 
 her young friend, the thought gradually pressed the more upon her 
 mind, that here was a connection which was most desirable for her 
 husband ; and, finally, the question alone remained, whether Radha's 
 family would consent. 
 
 Tara had no objection either. Indeed, from the first sight of Radha's 
 present extreme beauty, and promise of its development — from her 
 respectful, nay reverential, demeanour to her mother, and her ap- 
 parently loving trustfulness of herself — she, too, began to think that 
 a better selection could not be made, if her father were willing to 
 take a second wife, than this girl. So she grew to wish it. 
 
 Therefore, with much exhortation to privacy, and in the f nllest 
 assurance of confidence, Anunda had ventured to ask Sukya Bye, 
 after all reserve had been broken down, whether the alliance might be 
 hoped for. She dwelt at length upon her husband's accomplishments 
 and his wealth. He was not old; many men married far beyond 
 his age. Money was no object — it could be paid if necessary ; and 
 she herself would be as a mother, and Tara a sister, to the new wife. 
 In short, Anunda opened her whole heart to her new friend, and in 
 the end found the sympathy she had expected. Yes, the more Sukya 
 Bye considered the matter, the more, as she told Anunda, was she 
 convinced it would be an admirable arrangement. Radha had oncc^ 
 been betrothed as a mere child ; the person had died lately, else 
 they were to have been married this year. Delay had occurred be- 
 cause the intended husband was poor. He had not sufficient to pay 
 the expenses of the ceremonies. Then Radha's father had died, then 
 her mother, when Moro Trimmul was as yet a youth. He had made 
 no provision for his sister. How could he ? So she remained un- 
 married. Another connection must have been sought for this year, 
 and Anunda's proposal was admirably timed. 
 
 Now, all this was true enough in some respects, but not entirely. 
 It was enough, however, for two persons to believe, whose affections 
 were already enlisted in the progress of the matter ; and such in- 
 quiries as they could make from people who knew Wye, confirmed 
 what had been told them by their new acquaintance. Was the girl 
 herself willing ? Apparently she was. And she received, with all 
 the baslifulness and interest necessary to the occasion, the proposal 
 made to her by Tara on the part of her mother. Anunda had 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE. 33 
 
 liaci her fears on this subject, lest the young and beautiful girl 
 should refuse to ratify what her aunt had proposed ; but beyond 
 a natural shyness there seemed no objection. 
 
 One doubt only remained, — were the horoscopes of the parties in 
 good accordance ? " Moro Trimmul," Sukya Bye said, " would never 
 consent to give his sister where the planets did not provide good for- 
 tune — in short, till he was satisfied there was no ceremonial objec- 
 tion or direct hindrance. And before the proposition was made to 
 the Shastree — before, in short, the men were to discuss the proposed 
 arrangement, Moro Trimmul wished to see the Shastree's horoscope, 
 in order that the last point of doubt should be removed." He also 
 would give his sister's to the Shastree, if the proposal were to be per- 
 severed in. 
 
 Very unsuspectingly, therefore, did Anunda take the scheme of 
 her husband's nativity, his " Junum Putr," from the casket in which 
 it was kept, and, with many injunctions as to its safety, gave it to 
 Sukya Bye. It was not long detained ; and she was gratified by 
 hearing that the Josee, seated in an adjoining apartment, considered it 
 a most happy one. "Might he copy a few portions? they had been 
 so admirably calculated." And the dame had no objection. 
 
 Certainly the plan had been well laid, and as yet well executed. 
 No very deep persuasions were necessary with these simple unsus- 
 pecting people. The mother and daughter had yielded long ago ; 
 and the result of the examination of the Shastree's Junum Putr 
 had removed the last obstacle which concerned him. The matter, as 
 arranged, should be broken to him that evening on his return from 
 the temple. And the lady Sukya suggested that he should examine 
 lier niece's horoscope as corroborative of his own. 
 
 So Moro Trimmul had that day put the finishing touch to his 
 work. He had been concealed when the lady Anunda brought the 
 paper we have mentioned ; he had rapidly copied the principal points 
 in the table, and noted all the most remarkable of the latter indica- 
 tions exhibited ; and he knew that, before evening, he could prepare 
 a corresponding document regarding his sister, which the Shastree 
 himself could not detect. This was a branch of science which Moro 
 Trimmul had studied deeply; audit was with perfect confidence that 
 he followed the astrological combinations relating to the Shastree, 
 and constructed, yet not with too minute detail, the table in his 
 sister's name. 
 
 Few Hindu parents care to have the Junum Putr, or "birth letter," 
 of their daughters worked out ; but after Moro Trimmul had cast 
 the table itself on an imaginary date of birth, two years later than 
 the real age of his sister, and as if it had been done carelessly and 
 then abandoned, he followed up several of the formulae indicated, 
 leaving the last incomplete. He felt assured, therefore, when the 
 
34 TAEA 
 
 paper was submitted to the Sliastree, that he would himself caiTj 
 out the last calculation, which had been so arranged as to lead to 
 the present time, and to a combination with his own. 
 
 All had been finished. The paper on which it was written was 
 new, but it was not paper of that part of the country ; it was from 
 his own district. An ornamental border was quickly drawn round 
 it, in red, black, and yellow lines ; the signatures of the witnesses 
 to his sister's original and true Junum Putr were carefully copied ; 
 finally, the whole document was held over wood-smoke till it was 
 of a proper brown colour, then rubbed and frayed at the edges, and 
 creased here and there as if it had been often examined ; and, lastly, 
 it was perfumed with camphor to remove the smell of wood-smoke, 
 and with the odour of benzoin and sweet pastille. No one, without 
 much difficulty, could have detected the forgery ; and, without sus- 
 picion, the Shastree had set himself to work out the problem left 
 unfinished — the occupation which we have already noted. 
 
 On leaving their friends, after this early visit, in which the Junum 
 Putr was taken, Anunda and Tara had determined to lose no further 
 time in breaking the matter to the Shastree. It was a forti'iiate day, 
 as they had been told by the old astrologer, the Shastree \s friend, 
 whom they had consulted as they went home ; whatever they did was 
 sure to prosper. The Shastree was in good humour with himself, 
 with them, and with the world generally, and for many reasons. 
 His greatest care about Tara had been removed. She had been ac- 
 cepted as a votary of the goddess, and had already recovered from 
 her excitement. He had written with others a joint petition to the 
 " Swami " on the subject, and she had been duly recognized by her 
 spiritual prince. N"o fear of reproach now existed ; and if the Shas- 
 tiee had at first winced at the idea of his daughter becoming a 
 Moorlee, a public votary at the temple, the feeling was passing away. 
 The gods forbid she should become as other girls, who were de- 
 voted to the temple service ! No ; she desired to be pure, and should 
 continue so. 
 
 The long and expensive journey to Nassuk, or worse, to Benares, 
 had been saved, and half a year's rent had just come in from his 
 estate. The crops were fine; there were no remissions needed; prices 
 were high, and the rent had been punctually paid. The produce of 
 the gardens and farms was also good this year, and the fees and 
 dues from pilgrims were abundant. This was a special year for 
 ■pilgrimages to the shrine, and full moon after full moon the crowd 
 would increase. 
 
 " What are we to do with it all ? " Anunda would ask, as day 
 after day the bag containing the Shastree's dues was brought from 
 the temple by the attendant clerk, or as her husband gave over to 
 her the liberal gifts presented to him by wealthy visitors to the 
 shrine. 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 
 
 As slie asked tliis question of him, the Shastree laughed, and told 
 her it must increase, for the Now Ratree, or nine nights of the god- 
 dess, then coming on, were attended by a wonderful conjunction oi 
 planets foreboding marvellous events, and which could not indeed 
 occur again in many years — indeed, not under less than a cycle. 
 There would be thousands upon thousands of worshippers there, and 
 the gain would be enormous. What, indeed, were they to do with 
 it all ? ^' We must spend it upon poor Brahmuns, dig wells in desert 
 places, and give marriage portions — all good w^orks, and pleasing to 
 the gods : what have Brahmuns to do with wealth ? " said the 
 Shastree. 
 
 *' Nay; but we will have a marriage at home," thought Anunda ; 
 and from the time the alliance was shaped into form she began to 
 hoard every rupee she could get. Never had the gardeners found her 
 so active in coming down to Sindphul to look after the fruit and 
 vegetables in the garden there. Never had the sellers in the Bazar 
 known her to be so keen after the returns of sale. As she said to 
 herself, if there is a marriage, my lord shall have a good one. 
 
 This very plethora of wealth brought about the question with her 
 husband. " What can we do with it ? " he said one day, on receiving 
 an unusually large gift. 
 
 "" We will marry you," said the wife. " Tara and I have determined 
 upon it in our own minds ; and oh, my dear honoured husband, you 
 are not to object ! We have kept this from you as yet ; but if you 
 will agree, we have found a treasure, a jewel, such as we can give 
 to you, and be proud and thankful to see you wear." 
 
 There was no circumlocution in the matter. Anunda, watching 
 her opportunity, as a wife best knows how to do, had gone direct to 
 the point, and, seconded by Tara, had smoothed away all difficulties 
 and won the victory. 
 
 The Shastree made but one condition — that which Moro Trimmul 
 had expected, and for which he had provided. "I care not for 
 wealth or for beauty," he said to his wife. " We are rich — too rich ; 
 and thou, Anunda, art more beautiful than ever; but the 'birth 
 letter ' must accord ; and she must be pure and high in blood." 
 
 So Anunda had told him that, as to the first, she would ask for the 
 ''birth letter," and hope it would be good; as to the second, what 
 jioubt at all ? She could vouch for good birth, as good as their 
 own, and for wealth if that were needed. 
 
 Now, therefore, that the matter all hinged upon the fitness or 
 otherwise of Radha's " birth letter," and the last link in Anunda's 
 chain was to be completed or for ever broken, it may be conceived that 
 she awaited her husband's decision on the subject with much anxiety. 
 He had requested not to be disturbed while he made the examination. 
 —^ So Anunda and Tara waited within. The outer door of the coui-t 
 
 m 
 
36 TABA : 
 
 liad been fastened as well as tliat of the school, and he was, as we 
 found him at the beginning of this chapter, alone on his dais, ab- 
 sorbed in the contents of the docnment before him. 
 
 "Yes," he said again aloud, " that it is strangely coincident, there 
 can be no doubt. Again and again I have checked these formulse, 
 and they are right, and the abandoned calculation leads direct into 
 my own. Ho, Tara! Anunda!" he cried, "bring my Junum Putr, 
 quick ; I need it." And Anunda took it, and, laying it before him, 
 did not venture to stay or to speak ; but she saw by the expression 
 of his face that he was deeply interested, and she again withdrew. 
 
 He opened it, that strange shadowing of his life which, with a 
 fascination he could not resist, he had occasionally examined, yet 
 without daring to pry into the future. Enough that he could follow 
 the past as nearly as might be from the fallible nature of the science. 
 Now, he laid both papers together ; and his eye passed from one to 
 another rapidly, as his chest heaved and his pulses throbbed with 
 an excitement to which he had long been a stranger, forcing from 
 him the exclamations of wonder which we have recorded. 
 
 " Marvellous and mysterious agents in our existence," he continued^ 
 " who can withstand ye ? who can refuse your directions ? Here I 
 bow before ye, O mystic fates, lead me as ye will ; this happiness, 
 aided by these heavenly indications, I dare not resist. Anunda I 
 Tara ! O wife ! O child ! " he continued as they entered, stretching 
 out his hands towards them, " be it as ye will, beloved ! " 
 
 That was a happy evening for the three. It was not too late to 
 ratify the act, and then the preparations were soon made. A few 
 lumps of sugar-candy and some spices were placed on a silver salver, 
 and garlands of fresh flowers procured from the flower-sellers. 
 Anurda dressed herself in one of her best suits, and Tara put on a 
 simple new garment befitting her position. Several of the servants 
 who had suspected the matter, poured forth their congratulations. 
 A marriage, with all the new clothes, and feasting ; oh, it would be 
 delightful ! And now the betrothal sugar was to be taken, so the 
 matter was decided. Might they accompany the lady ? Yes, they 
 were all to come, and one was to go and prepare the lady Sukya ; 
 and so, finally, preceded by a pipe and tabor, the little procession went 
 forth into the street. 
 
 No concealment now. As the neighbours gathered at their doors 
 they knew why the lady Anunda and Tara went forth. Some won- 
 dered, some sneered ; but the majority thought Anunda wise. The 
 Shastree was to marry again, and there might again be a male child 
 in the house. 
 
 The preparation by Sukya had been made, and the girl Radha, 
 dressed by her aunt and Gunga, who was there, in a rich saree of 
 orange and gold, with wreaths of flowers hanging about her, had 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 37 
 
 been placed on the dais in the house where they lodged. She wore 
 heavy ornaments of gold, and Anunda felt proud of her selection for 
 her lord, as well for Radha's great beauty as for the wealth of which 
 she had evidence. ]N'o, she was no common girl. Here were no 
 crowds of poor relations ; even money was needless ; but they would 
 be too well bred to refuse it. 
 
 So they were. The music continued to play a merry measure 
 suited to the ceremony. The girl's forehead was marked with the 
 sacred colours ; a fragrant paste rubbed upon her hands and arms, 
 neck and bosom, by Anunda and Tara. Rice and other grain, 
 emblems of fertility, sprinkled over her head, money poured into her 
 lap, and sugar put into her mouth ; while the sacred hymn and 
 incantation from the Veda was chanted by Tara and her mother, 
 and joined in by those who had collected around. 
 
 Then all went into the household temple of the dwelling and paid 
 their adoration to Bhowani and Lakshmee, and the rite was finished. 
 Radha was the betrothed wife of Yyas Shastree. 
 
 " Mayst thou be happy, O my sister ! " said Moro Trimmul, who, 
 though present, had not interfered further than to direct the cere- 
 monies. " Surely this is a fortunate day for us all. Now I go to 
 the temple to lay my offerings before the Mother, and, with your 
 permission, lady, I will visit the Shastree to-morrow. Long have I 
 desii^ed to know him, for the fame of his learning has gone far and 
 wide ; but who would make a stranger known to him ? and surely it 
 is providential that our houses have thus been united." 
 
 " You will be welcome, sir," said Anunda, as she rose to take her 
 departure. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Anunda was not a person to allow useless time to elapse between the 
 ascertained necessity of any act and its completion, and the prepara- 
 tion for the marriage went on merrily. What stores of flour, and 
 rice and ghee, and condiments Avere laid in ! What gorgeous dresses 
 selected ! Ah, young English ladies, and indeed I may include 
 mothers also, who may read these pages, you are not to believe that 
 wedding trousseaux are confined to your own country and society ! 
 Very far from it. A young Hindu lady, or Mahomedan either — 
 there is not much to choose between them in this respect — is as full 
 of hope of a liberal, a handsome, outfit on her marriage, as any 
 fashionable young lady of Belgravia or Mayfair ; and beUeve me, is 
 as proportionably delighted if it be so. 
 
 There was much to spend, and no grudging. So one old cloth- 
 
m TAB A : 
 
 seller had been dispatched to Sholapoor, and another to Wjriig ; on© 
 to Nnldroog also, then a large camp and empormm : and the resnlt was, 
 as ^ye may say, an overpkis of riches. It was hard to select from 
 the bales on bales which were sent up from the shops ; still, piece by 
 piece, the dresses accnmnlated, and were indeed lovely. Silk and 
 gold sarees ; silk and cotton mixed ; jDlain cotton with silk borders ; 
 bodice pieces, stiff with gold and brocade — all betokening wealth 
 and comfort. ISTo milliner required here. The garments of one 
 piece, only remarkable for their richness and diversity of colour and 
 pattern, were such as were, and are still, worn by the better classes 
 of society. Annnda was determined that no fault could be found 
 Avith her own and Tara's selection, and certainly it was better to be 
 on the liberal side. 
 
 Then how busy the goldsmiths were ! In the'Shastree's school court, 
 half-a-dozen men, sometimes more, were to be seen sitting over pans 
 of charcoal, blowpipe in hand, beating silver or gold on small anvils, 
 and fashioning them into massive and quaintly beautiful ornaments. 
 Anunda had given some of her old things to be broken up and 
 re-made. We will not say how many ounces of virgin gold were 
 added, but here too the good lady was liberal — very liberal ; and 
 Tara, of her own accord, had added from her own store some 
 valuable jewels. Yes, the arrangements for the marriage were to 
 be iDushed on ; it must be completed within a month, for after that, 
 there was a "gutt" or planetary conjunction averse to marriage, 
 which was to last long. As yet the day had not been fixed, but it 
 must soon be ; and the Shastree was passive when it was mentioned. 
 I^Tot so those with whom he had now irrevocably connected himself. 
 
 On the other side, preparations had been as active, though 
 simpler. More Trimmul's object was haste, and he had desired 
 his aunt and sister to spare nothing within their means. Strangers 
 as they were in the town, they found the girl Ganga, with who^i, 
 since the ceremony at the temple, Sukya Bye had become intimate, 
 a very useful ally. She knew what Anunda was preparing. Her 
 gossips — the flower- sellers, the cloth-merchants, and the goldsmiths — 
 detailed all that was being done, and to aunt and niece they were 
 amply satisfactory. They knew the Shastree was wealthy, but the 
 profusion they heard of surprised them. 
 
 "The Shastree loves thee, girl,'' the lady Sukya would say. "He 
 will spend his wealth on thee. What lucky chance brought us here, 
 who can tell ? else who w^ould have cared for thee ? To whom 
 could we have given thee ? Be content ; he is not old ; he will 
 love thee, for thou art beautiful. Wait and see." 
 
 Truly she was so ! Not Tara's tranquil, pensive beauty ; not 
 Anunda's even in her prime. This girl was very different from both. 
 5>he was darker than either — a warm, richly-tinted, clear, golden 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE. S9 
 
 brown, with a skin like velvet ; a small head, oval face — perhaps 
 more round than oval— and a mass of thick wavy hair, which, if 
 loosened, fell far below her waist, curling at the ends ; a low broad 
 forehead, strongly marked arched eyebrows, and a nose straight 
 and delicate in outline, were perhaps the ordinary possessions of 
 a good-looking, well-bred Mahratta girl ; but the eyes and mouth 
 were more remarkable, because they gave an index to her character. 
 
 "We will not tell what she is like," Anunda said, as her husband 
 frequently asked her of Radha, for as yet he had not seen her. 
 Perhaps he was indifferent on the subject, yet hardly so ; it would 
 have been unnatural not to care at all. Certainly, as the days 
 passed, the Shastree grew somewhat curious, and he had to wait 
 many more ere he should see her. 
 
 " Content thyself, husband," Anunda would say, as he questioned 
 her ; "I have told thee she is beautiful, else I had not noticed 
 her : she hath a shape like a nymph, eyes like a deer, and a mouth 
 like that of Kamdeo. What need to say more? Wait and see." 
 So the Shastree waited patiently. Another would have followed 
 the girl — contrived to see her by some means not perhaps over 
 scrupulously ; but the Shastree was very honourable, and such an 
 alternative did not even suggest itself to him. 
 
 But they were right. What Anunda had noticed, and Tara too, 
 were only the eyes and mouth and the figure. Who could pass 
 them by unheeded? Such eyes — so large, so soft in their velvet 
 blackness when at rest, yet if excited, how different ! The long, thick 
 lashes, which were positively heavy in character, shaded them ordi- 
 narily, and produced a soft, dreamy effect ; but if the girl looked 
 up, or was interested, or suddenly roused, these eyes seemed to glow 
 internally, and to assume a character almost oppressively fascinating. 
 
 Radha well knew their power : since she was a child she had been 
 told of the beauty of her eyes, and she believed it — nay, added to 
 their expression by slightly staining the inner portion of her eyelids, 
 which gave to the already 'heavy lashes a softer character if the eyes 
 were at rest, or increased their effect if they were excited. Lately a 
 habit had grown upon her of contracting her brows, and dilating her 
 eyes till their effect was almost fierce, which both her brother and 
 aunt had tried to check, but it did not leave her easily. Sometimes 
 it gave place to a look of dreamy languor inexpressibly touching, and 
 so sorrowful in character that, had the girl been older, it might have 
 been attributed to some great grief lying at her heart, or some pain- 
 ful recollection. As it was, it was unsuspected, except by those who 
 knew the cause. 
 
 The mouth followed the eyes. When they were excited by any 
 emotion, the lips at once closed and were firmly compressed ; but 
 ordinarily they remained a little open in the centre, showing teeth 
 
40 TABA 
 
 white, pure, and glistening with a pearly lustre. The lips were full, 
 red, and moist — the upper deeply arched and curved, with the 
 corners falling back into deep dimples ; yet the mouth was small and 
 delicate, pouting, and decidedly voluptuous when at rest or smiling, 
 yet capable of being hardened into an expression of self-will and 
 obstinacy, which indicated an inflexible determination should there 
 be occasion to exercise it. No wonder that, seeing her in her most 
 placable moods — for the girl from the first had appeared charmed by 
 the prospect of her marriage — ^Anunda and Tara had been captivated 
 by beauty so remarkable. It would have been well, perhaps, could 
 they have seen the face under other expressions, and so been saved 
 from what, under different circumstances, had an irresistible fas- 
 cination. 
 
 Need her figure be described ? Being younger than Tara, there 
 was not the same development of form. The arms and throat were 
 less rounded, yet the lines were as graceful and full of promise of 
 perfection as hers. Eventually they would be about the same height 
 — Radha, perhaps, a shade taller, and both slighter than Anunda 
 ever had been. Her hands and feet were small and beautifully formed, 
 more so, perhaps, than Tara's ; they were indeed, remarkable features 
 in her figure — so much so that, as Tara was bathing her one day, and 
 w^ashing them, she had held them to her lips and kissed them in 
 succession involuntarily. 
 
 It was difficult to tell her age. Her " birth letter" told the Shastree 
 she was not yet twelve. Had she exceeded much that age, to their 
 knowledge, Anunda would have objected to the marriage ; indeed, she 
 could not have been married at all. But she was in reality four- 
 teen, nay more. Sometimes, when her features relaxed, her eyes soft 
 and dreamy, her mouth smiling, and her whole face assuming a 
 loving tenderness of expression, she appeared hardly the age she Avas 
 said to be ; but when there was any change, and the rigid look already 
 noticed took its place, she appeared considerably older. 
 
 Now, Anunda was by no means desirous of a very young girl for 
 her husband's new wife. Many had been offered of very tender 
 age indeed, whom she had invariably declined. She could not be 
 troubled with a child ; and if a thought that Badha might be older 
 than she was represented to be, ever crossed her mind, a bright smile, 
 a tender caress from the girl at once removed the doubt, and restored 
 confidence. As to her figure, it did but furnish earnest of mature 
 development. And were not many girls precocious ? She had been 
 so herself. Yes, Badha was very beautiful ; and, as day after day 
 passed, Anunda longed the more for the time when she should be 
 able to clothe her in one of those gorgeous dresses, to deck her with 
 flowers and jewels, and to present her to her husband a bride worthy 
 of him — worthy of her own affection — the most precious gift she 
 could make to him. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 41 
 
 We have said that Radha was older than she was represented — 
 and perhaps a brief sketch of her previous history is needful. She 
 had been an indulged and precocious child, of a vain, weak, but 
 fceautiful mother. Her father, one of the hereditary Josees, or 
 astrologers, of Wye, had died some years before, and her mother 
 shortly after him. Moro Trimmul, on succeeding to the care of the 
 house, had given charge of his sister to his aunt, and betaken himself 
 to the company of certain wild associates, with whom, from his 
 powers of learning, he had become an especial favourite. The head 
 of these was the Rajah Sivaji, whose rapid career to independence 
 was one of the remarkable events of the times ; and the wild exploits 
 of the young prince, his raids against the Moghuls and Mahomedans 
 in general, had long since enlisted the sympathies of the Mahratta 
 people. 
 
 Sivaji's early career had been dissolute, but that was a venial fault 
 among the people. His companions were the young Mahratta gentry, 
 — yeomen, and farmers, whom he best loved to draw about him; 
 above all, young Brahmuns who would join him, whether as priests 
 or soldiers, or both, in his wild enterprises. Moro Trimmul was one 
 of these — one who had grown into his deepest confidence. So long 
 as Moro's father lived, he had in some degree restrained his son ; 
 but his private meetings with his prince were still frequent ; and in 
 the plays and recitations, of which Sivaji was passionately fond, 
 Moro was generally an actor and reciter. Thus it was that Sivaji 
 frequently came to Wye, and put up at the Josee's house ; and so he 
 came to know Radha — a beautiful child then, whom he could caress 
 without hindrance. He a Mahratta, she a Brahmun — any union was 
 impossible ; and yet she grew to be more than interesting to him as 
 «he advanced in age. 
 
 Eventually Radha's betrothed husband died. Other offers were 
 made for her, but were always refused, so peremptorily, that people 
 believed the report designedly set afoot by her brother and Sukya 
 Bye, that she was to be married to a distant relative who, now absent 
 on pilgrimages, would return and claim her, or she would have to 
 be taken to him. And so the girl grew, the time for marriage 
 passed, and the Rajah's visits, often clandestine, were encouraged by 
 aunt and nephew, with what ultimate hope of result might be ima- 
 gined. Yet both were careful there should be no scandal. 
 
 Perhaps their scheme might have succeeded had not Sivaji himself, 
 now feeling his way to power, seen the peril of the connection. Was 
 she wife or widow, there might have been fewer scruples, but, an un- 
 married Brahmun girl would be a burden, a disgrace, which he dared 
 not encounter — one that would not fail to be resented by the priests, 
 whom it was his aim to gain. He could not spare one so devoted, so 
 able, and so unscrupulous as Moro Trimmul, nor could he replace 
 
42 TABA : 
 
 Lim ; lie needed many sucli, and lie loved Mm too mncli to break 
 mtli him on this point. 
 
 It was a hard straggle. But the yonng prince, whose firm will and 
 self-control finally won him a kingdom, successfnlly resisted the op- 
 portnnities deliberately offered. As the girl grew, as his intercourse 
 with the house became more and more nnreserved, it was clear to 
 him that her love for him was growing as part of her existence. The 
 girl, for whom he had always a kind word and free greeting, who 
 claimed the privilege of serving "her Rajah," when he put up at their 
 house, became by degrees shy and reserved ; cried if he spoke kindly 
 to her, and trembled if he approached her. He could not be mistaken 
 in those eyes : they told their own story — love. 
 
 Under such circumstances, among such people, love is passion. 
 It has no medium except in maturer age and constant association. 
 The girl — still a child in years — loved deeply, passionately; and as 
 she grew older, month by month, day by day, the news of her prince's 
 exploits, now beginning to be sung in ballads through the country, 
 excited her fearfully. Her aunt and brother had detected her in more 
 than one attempt to escape to him, and, fearful of the result, had pre- 
 vented it. Had he taken her away, would they have pursued? 
 Surely not ; but he was careful — he admitted his own danger to him- 
 self — and he gradually avoided the house, though he clung the more 
 closely to Moro Trimmul. Radha found means to send occasional 
 messages to him — a child's love, a child's yearning for him were told 
 to him ; and we know that, in some instances, a child's love — there 
 and here the same — is more passionate, because more pure and more 
 absorbing, than a woman's. What was marriage to her? If she 
 could only be with her Rajah — to serve him, to live with him, to 
 ride, nay, to fight with him — she would go, or die. 
 
 The last time Sivaji had seen her she had grown desperate. She 
 liad never spoken so to him before ; but she had told him she must 
 die if he did not take her away. " N'ay, but I will come with thee," 
 she cried, " even if thou cast me out among thy servants." And he 
 confided this to her brother. " For my sake," he said, impressively, 
 '• if not for thine and hers, keep her safe ; take her away and have 
 her married ; the farther away from hence the better. It is no use 
 speaking to her. Moro Trimmul ! save me from the temptation, thy- 
 self from the contumely this would bring upon us. I know what is in 
 thy heart ; but, beautiful as she is, it cannot be." 
 
 So a plan was quickly arranged between them. Moro had an 
 intimate acquaintance with the Mahratta gentry of the Dekhan, and 
 he was despatched to canvass them. This necessitated journeys 
 from place to place. He was well provided with money, and he 
 travelled, as one under vows of pilgrimage, to different shrines. Thus 
 opportunity might occur for marrying Radha ; and, leaving all ser- 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, iTs 
 
 vants behind him but a few men in whom he had perfect confidence, 
 he took his annt Sukja Bye with him as protection to his sister. I^o 
 one cared to inqnire who the young prince's envoy and counsellor 
 was, or what his family affairs were. Enough that he had a sister 
 and an aunt with him, and was conducting his secret mission with 
 admirable policy and address. 
 
 Thus he at length arrived at Tooljapoor alone. The rainy season 
 had set in, and travelling was no longer pleasant or easy. The 
 town was a good position for his purpose, and there were many rich 
 families and landholders in the "Bala Ghaut" province to be 
 brought over. For a time he secluded himself, and lived humbly 
 in a hired lodging or in one of the courts of the temple. Here he 
 had seen Gunga, and here also he daily watched Tara as she and her- 
 mother performed their worship. Even thus early the advantage of 
 marrying his sister to the Shastree, of whose household circum- 
 stances Gunga had told him, had appeared most desirable ; but as his 
 passion for Tara grew, it was a thing to be accomplished at a.11 
 hazards. Gunga did not appear able to help him, for it was clear- 
 that neither the Shastree nor his wife noticed the inferior priestesses 
 of her class, and Tara never spoke to them. He therefore secured 
 a good house for some months, and sent for his aunt and Radha 
 from Punderpoor, where he had left them: and, till their aiTival, 
 had busied himself in obtaining local information for the furtherance 
 of his future designs. 
 
 On leaving their home at Wye, and after E-adha's first paroxysms 
 of disappointment were past, Sukya Bye and Moro Trimmul had in- 
 structed the girl what to do. Perhaps, in despair of accomplishing 
 her ends, or with the desire of all Hindu girls for an early settle- 
 ment, she was an apt scholar. Radha was to deny all knowledge of 
 her age, to assume a childish demeanour, to acquiesce modestly, and 
 as she saw other girls do, if she were proposed for. She was 
 assured she would be given to none but a man of wealth — her beauty 
 would secure her this. If possible he should be young ; but this was 
 a difficult point, and what matter if he were old ? She could have 
 jewels, rich clothes, an establishment of her own — she would have- 
 all these secured to her, and afterwards would be her own mistress. 
 
 Biit if she refused, or opposed these efforts in her behalf, she 
 would soon be too old to be assisted at all. As it was, few would 
 believe her to be within the marriageable period for Brahmun girls, . 
 In a year, nay less, her marriage would be impossible, and vshe must 
 be treated like a widow, shaven and degraded, or married to a 
 dagger,* and turned into a temple to shift for herself. 
 
 * Female devotees are married to a sword or dagger, as emblematical of union) 
 to the divinity to which they have been devoted. 
 
44 TABA : 
 
 Was it wonderful that the girl submitted to, naj, even assisted in, 
 their deceptions, or that those eyes looked dreamily after her own 
 prince, while her spirit, chafing within, carried her, in those moments 
 of abstraction, away into his glorious mountains, to be loved and 
 caressed as she felt he, and^ he only, could love and caress her if 
 ■she were with him ? 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 After preparations for the Shastree's marriage had been actively 
 commenced on both sides, there was no further hindrance. More 
 Trimmul having been made known to the Shastree by Anunda, as 
 she had promised, the two men soon found a day in the calendar, so 
 far unexceptionable as regarded planetary influences, that they at 
 once fixed upon it ; and the ladies, having been consulted, declared 
 there were no objections or hindrances now, for on both sides of 
 the houses everything was prepared. 
 
 Meanwhile his new acquaintance was a delightful addition to 
 Vyas Shastree's circle of friends. Who more accomplished for his 
 age than Moro Trimmul, more fascinating in manner, or astute in 
 argument and judgment ? He had not the refined beauty of his 
 sister, except that his eyes were, like hers, large, soft, and very black, 
 with the same habit of dilation, relaxing into an almost womanish 
 tenderness : but when aroused, their excited expression was infinitely 
 more fierce than Radha's, even to savage cruelty. The mouth was 
 always coarse and sensual, but there was at least good-humour about 
 it if he were not angered, and a strength of character in tjie 
 countenance which could not be mistaken. Now, nothing occurred 
 to cause even a passing cloud, and the days which intervened 
 between the betrothal and the marriage were pleasantly spent by 
 all. Even Radha was interested, and clung more closely to Tara 
 than ever ; for with Anunda, as with her aunt, she preserved the 
 habitual reserve and respect required by their positions. 
 
 "I will go to the temple, daughter," said Anunda one evening, 
 " and keep thy father there. Do thou bring Radha here, and let 
 her look at the dresses and jewels : if there is anything she wants 
 in addition, tell me, and we will get it." The good lady could not 
 •do too much. 
 
 Eand Anunda 1 it was so considerate. Could any doubt of her 
 ultimate happiness remain in the girl's heart? What other ''sister 
 wife " would have cared so for her ? 
 
 Oh, the girl's delight at those gorgeous clothes and jewels ! She 
 iiad heard of splendid gifts at marriages, and there was one at Wye 
 
A MAKE ATT A TALK 45 
 
 in which she had helped to deck the bride ; and when she had seen 
 her — she was but a mere child — dressed in a brocade garment stiff 
 with gold, she had wondered w^hether it would ever be possible to 
 possess one like it. There were several — green and gold, crimson 
 and gold, pnrple and gold. The most glossy of Pyetiin silks, soft 
 mnslin sarees from Narrainpett and Dhunwar, of which she had 
 heard, but had never seen ; they did not come to her country : all 
 were beautiful. 
 
 Then the ornaments. There were massive gold chain anklets, 
 with small bells to them, armlets, bracelets, ear-rings, necklaces. 
 There was the sacred "talee," which would be tied round her 
 neck. Tara showed them all as they were laid out in cotton upon a 
 tray covered with red muslin. How beautiful they were ! and all 
 would belong to her ; they would be put on her the day of the cere- 
 mony, and her own taken off as she entered the house. Then 
 the place where she was to be bathed and dressed was newly 
 coloured and plastered, and the comfort of the house and its pretty 
 decorations — all satisfied the girl's longing. It was what she had 
 pictured to herself ; and Tara said her father was kind, so kind — • 
 he would love his little wife after his quiet fashion, and deny her 
 nothing. 
 
 So it was not to be wondered at if any repugnance which she 
 had felt was fast passing away, and if, when her brother asked her 
 whether she would be content, she told him she was grateful for what 
 he had done ; and for the time perhaps she was so. 
 
 Sukya Bye had told her nephew of Radha's visit to the Shastree's 
 house by stealth with Tara : she was afraid he might hear of it 
 otherwise, perhaps through the servants or Gunga, and was rejoiced 
 that he considered it a happy circumstance. " She will be satisfied 
 with the wealth," he said, " and all that she sees will excite the desire 
 for more, and so, aunt, we shall best hold her to our purposes. She 
 cannot recede now ; and, while moulding the Shastree to her will, by- 
 and-by she need not forget Sivaji Rajah." But he did not tell this 
 to Badha ; and neither by her brother, nor Sukya Bye, was any 
 reference made to the past. When all was beyond chance of disturb- 
 ance, he would set her to work to compass his own ends. 
 
 The Shastree and Pundit were of different schools of philosophy ; 
 the former, as we know, belonged to the ancient, and, as he con- 
 sidered, orthodox, Yedantic school of Yeda Yasa ; the Pundit to the 
 more modern Mimansa school of Jomiai, and to the doctrines and 
 mythological histories of the Poorans. So they had discussions, in 
 which other Brahmuns of the town joined, while the ladies sat 
 behind a screen and heard their disputations, and Tara explained 
 to them what she could follow. Or the friends played at chess, both 
 having excellent skill ; — the Shastree calm and steady, the Pundit 
 
46 TABA : 
 
 fiery and impetuous, as were tlieir natures ; and so tliey had many an 
 earnest battle. 
 
 It was not long before tbe politics which then agitated the country 
 began to be discussed between them. They lived under the same 
 Mahomedan government, that of Beejapoor : but while Tooljapoor 
 and the districts around it were as yet in entire subjection, those 
 to the west — particularly the wild rugged country beyond Wye, the 
 Mawuls or mountain- valleys of the Ghauts, stretching into the 
 Dekhan — owed but a slight allegiance to the Mahomedan dynasty, 
 and perhaps had never been completely subdued. Here it was that 
 many of the oldest Mahratta families had taken refuge after the 
 overthrow of the Hindu dynasty of Deogurh, the modern Dowlutabad, 
 and the subsequent subjection of the country by the Mahomedan 
 Emperors of Delhi; and it was among these families, the Bhoslays, 
 ISTimbalkurs, Morays, Grhoreparays, and others, that the germs of that 
 combination to resist— to them an oppressive and corrupt govern- 
 ment — existed, which was presently to be ripened into a successful 
 revolution. 
 
 On the other hand, this dynasty of Beejapoor had already been 
 attacked by the immense power of the Emperors of Delhi ; and 
 while the independent kingdom of Ahmednugger — itself at one 
 period little inferior in splendour to that of Beejapoor — had been 
 entirely subdued, and the princes of its house annihilated by the 
 Moghuls, any combination to resist them by the two states had 
 not only been rendered impossible, but it was clear that Beejapoor 
 would follow its example : and those were not wanting who hoped, 
 under a new power, to regain many privileges which hitherto had 
 been withheld from them. 
 
 But it was in the antagonism of the two contending Mahomedan 
 powers that the Hindu families of the Dekhan saw the means of 
 emancipation from both. It might be a work of time, and of im- 
 mense labour and skill : but the opportunity seemed to present itself ; 
 and while feigning submission alike to the Moghuls, as after the con- 
 quest of Ahmednugger their forces were poured into the provinces 
 which had formed that kingdom, and, on the other hand, to the older- 
 established dynasty of Beejapoor, a stirring spirit began to be aroused 
 among the Mahrattas ; and that secret combination silently pro- 
 gressed, of which Moro Pundit was one among many other agents 
 employed by Sivaji, the prince to whom all now looked as the pre- 
 sent head, if not the instigator, of the movement. 
 
 It had, in fact, already been some time covertly in progress. Shaliji 
 Bhoslay, the father of Sivaji, had commenced it in a series of wild 
 irregular forays arid raids from his patrimonial estate, which was 
 situated among thi Mawuls west of Poona, against the Mahomedan 
 posts and garrisov« of the western provinces of Beejapoor. For a 
 
 / 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE. 47 
 
 time he was successful, but only as a mere freebooter ; and in the 
 end he was defeated, taken prisoner, and confined in a dungeon in 
 Beejapoor for several years by the monarch Mahmood Adil Shah, 
 the father of the king reigning at Beejapoor at the period of our 
 tale. Bat Mahmood was not implacable. On the intercession of 
 his mother, by whose wise counsels he had often been guided, Shahji 
 was not only released but raised to a high command, and during the 
 subsequent invasion of Beejapoor by the Moghuls did good service, 
 and so the progress of the Mahratta power was stayed. 
 
 Of his two sons, Sivaji early took the lead, and, encouraged by 
 his mother, a lady of high family and ambition, and admirable 
 judgment, he aspired to be the head of a Mahratta confederacy. 
 What progress he eventually made is already matter of history, 
 which will Jiave no record in these pages ; but at the time of which 
 we write, he was strengthening himself in his own wild country, 
 collecting adherents, canvassing those who still held aloof, fortify- 
 ing rugged and inaccessible strongholds, and, by the suddenness 
 and successful issue of his continuous forays, was rendering him- 
 self famous in the eyes of the people. While he treated with both 
 of the rival Mahomedan powers by turns, he took his own course ; 
 and yielding alternately to each whenever their force was locally 
 in excess of his own, was in reality faithful to neither. 
 
 To Sivaji, also, belonged the prestige which none else had dared 
 to assume — that of receiving aid from heavenly powers. The god- 
 dess Bhowani was the tutelar deity of his family ; and it w^as the 
 popular belief that she had chosen his father as the champion of 
 her faith, but that he had transgressed warnings and visions, and, 
 implacable as she was believed to be, she had cast him olf . It was 
 otherwise, however, with his second son Sivaji. She had chosen 
 him to be the scourge of the cow-slaying, impure, and licentious 
 Mahomedans. The cries of her votaries had arisen to her, and the 
 land was to be purged of uncleanness. Temples would be again 
 filled with Brahmuns, and the sweet incense of pure sacrifice w^ould 
 ascend to her. The mother of Sivaji, it w^as reported, saw and 
 recorded visions, too glorious to relate, in which her son was a vic- 
 torious conqueror, and the infidel Mahomedans were slain in tens of 
 thousands by the Mahratta people in those great battles which were 
 to ensue. And these visions were believed. 
 
 As yet these prophecies were circulated privately among the 
 people, but there was not a Mahratta, far or near, who did not 
 know of them. Ballads were written about them, and sung at 
 fairs and markets. Women composed and chanted extempore 
 verses as the household mills flew merrily round in the early morn- 
 ing. Men sang them to their oxen as they ploughed, or drew 
 water from their wells ; and so a spirit spread through the people 
 which eventually became irresistibly powerful. 
 
48 TABA : 
 
 In tliis excitement, too, existed the incentive to the worship of 
 Bhowani at all her most celebrated shrines; and everywhere — to 
 gather her votaries together, to excite them to action, and to warn 
 them to be ready when the time arrived — were agents such as Mora 
 Trimmnl, despatched by the young chieftain. Nothing appeared on 
 the surface. Experience had taught extreme caution. There were 
 no assemblies of armed men, no displays of force : an occasional suc- 
 cessful raid or resistance by Sivaji kept up what might well be 
 called the national spirit ; but all delayed to strike, till, in the expres- 
 sive "Mahratta phrase, Donguras, lavile Deva, " the fire was on the 
 hills." 
 
 Very dexterously, therefore, and after having prepared him for the 
 communication, did Moro Trimmul confide to the Shastree some 
 of the popularly-reported plans of his friend and prince, and sought 
 his counsel and assistance, and partly also the purport of his own 
 mission. He asked information as to the families of the BalA. 
 Ghant, the Nimbalkurs of Wasi, the Kallays of Nelinga, the Bhoslays 
 and Grhoreparays of Akalkote, all neighbours ; and also respecting 
 the wealthy yeomen and farmers of the country. He did not men- 
 tion Pahar Singh, with whom, through the Grosaees of Kullianee, 
 and their agency at Tooljapoor, he had already opened negotiations, 
 and found the robber chieftain fickle and undecided, extravagant in 
 his demands for estates, for high command, and other rewards. 
 
 Nor did he disclose that weightier secret, known to his prince and 
 himself, on which, for the present, the success of their enterprise 
 rested. Khan Mahomed, the Wuzeer, or Prime Minister, of Beejapoor, 
 might be detached, it was said, from the royal interest of his house ; 
 and he was then, with a large army, lying at and about Nuldroog, 
 little more than twenty miles distant from Tooljapoor. To this maji, 
 at his own request, in phrases only to be interpreted by himself, a 
 letter had been fo warded through the Gosaee banker's agent at 
 Tooljapoor; but no reply had been received. Nor was Moro 
 Trimmul sanguine on the subject, for reports of the Wuzeer's 
 intrigues in other quarters were in men's mouths. No ; it was from 
 the Mahratta families alone that he had expectations ; and he knew that 
 at the ensuing festival, all or most of the province would assemble at 
 Tooljapoor. 
 
 To say that he found a zealous coadjutor, or hoped for one, in the 
 Shastree, would not be correct. The Shastree was not ambitious. 
 He enjoyed already, as we know, a very lucrative and prominent 
 position, in which he was honoured and respected. He avoided all 
 Mahomedans npon principle ; but the governors of the province often 
 sought his advice and assistance in civil and judicial matters regard- 
 ing Hindus, and he was not only never molested, but, on the con- 
 trary, respected and treated with consideration, and had even been 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 49 
 
 invited to court. He had, therefore, no quarrel with the Mahomedans, 
 and he well knew their power. He had watched Shahji's failures, 
 and he had noted the effect of Sivaji's efforts ; still he admitted there 
 was more chance of success now than before ; and he agreed to assist 
 Moro Trimmul, by bringing him into communication with the gentry 
 of the province, provided he were not required to take any prominent 
 part in what should follow. To say that Yyas Shastree was indif- 
 ferent in this matter, would be incorrect ; but to anticipate enthu- 
 siasm or personal zeal would have been impossible from his character, 
 and Moro Trimmul did not expect them. 
 
 "After the ceremony," he said to the Shastree, "Radha, of course, 
 will remain with yon. Sukya Bye will return to Wye with the 
 servants. Give me, then, letters to the Nimbalkurs of Wasi, and to 
 such others as you please, and I will go alone. Introduce me as a 
 reciter of plays, and I will make my own way unnoticed and unsus- 
 pected. Here I can be of no use, and may even attract suspicion.'/ 
 
 To this plan Yyas Shastree gave his cordial consent. Moro Trimmul 
 would go before the N"ow Ratree, and return for the festival. 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 I AM afraid it would take more time than the limits of this history will 
 afford, were I to describe minutely all the festivities and observances 
 of Radha's marriage. I assure you, dear readers, that a proper, 
 orthodox Hindu marriage, is a very tiresome affair ; and, like many 
 other marriages, perhaps, everybody is glad when it is over. Yery 
 noisy, tediously minute in ceremonial, liable to interruption from 
 disputes — it is often an arena for rival factions of famihes to fight 
 out all the ill feeling, discontent, and jealousy which have accumu- 
 lated for years. Sometimes the feasts provided are not eaten, and 
 have to be thrown away or given to beggars. Musicians won't play, 
 processions can't be formed, or are interrupted in progress : offence 
 is taken at trifles, and the whole proceeding rocks to and fro as 
 though it would tumble to pieces altogether, till it suddenly comes 
 right, and affairs go on — to a happy conclusion, or otherwise, as it 
 may l3e. 
 
 When all prospers, it is a right merry affair ; but I am afraid you, 
 dear young lady, would be very weary if you had to be married as 
 Radha was. No such thing as going to church comfortably in a 
 luxurious carriage, to be attended to the altar by six loving and 
 lovely bridesmaids, to hear there a short, simple, affecting service 
 and blessing, to sign your maiden name for the last time in the 
 vestry, and to go home, having dried your eyes on the most delicate 
 
50 TABA: 
 
 of lace-lbordered cambric pocket-liandkercliief s, to a champagne break- 
 fast, all the delicacies of the season, a carriage and four, and — un- 
 limited bliss in prospect. 
 
 Ah, no ! with Radha it was very different. Her marriage cere- 
 monies — will you believe it ? — occupied ten days of really very hard 
 work. So many dressings and undressings ; so many bathings ; so 
 many anointings ; so many changes of ornaments ; such smotherings 
 in flowers, and in large sheets, lest her husband should see her ; 
 such being carried from place to place by the servants, lest her feet 
 might touch the ground — once too by her husband, whom she could 
 feel, but not see ; and a rare strong arm and hand his was, taking 
 her up, vshe felt, as if she were a child, and gently and respectfully 
 too. Then worshippings at the great temple, where she had never 
 been before, and where the priests put flowers on her and led her 
 into the shrine where *'the little Mother" sat, with her weird red eyes 
 blinking through the smoke, and Radha was half frightened by 
 them ; greetings, too, from the people with whom the marriage was 
 popular ; and the flower-sellers and comfit-makers poured baskets of 
 their stocks over her and her decorated litter, while she looked 
 curiously about her from under the veil of jessamine flowers which 
 covered her face, and acknowledged with shy timid gestures their 
 hearty salutations. No doubt a great deal of this was excellent fun, 
 and the girl's spirits rose with the genial joyousness ; but at times 
 she was very weary. 
 
 Seldom had there been a merrier wedding. What jokes were 
 played off by her brother, who was a capital hand, as we know, at 
 acting plays, disguising himself, and personating characters, with 
 which he mercilessly interrupted the orthodox ceremonies. Now 
 a Mahomedan mendicant, whose intrusion was resisted by the 
 servants, and whose presence had polluted the food, proved to be 
 he ; or the pipers' instruments were filled with wax, and they blew 
 discordant screeches, or could not blow at all ; or a pertinacious 
 begging Brahmun or Byragee pestered them when most engaged, 
 insisted on seeing the bride, or threatened, otherwise, to cut himself 
 and bring trouble on her. Now one thing, now another ; teasing 
 his sister, playing a sly joke with Anunda, tormenting the Shastree 
 in all manner of ways, he was the life of the meeting, and always 
 so disguised as to dress, figure, and even voice, that no one 
 recognized him. 
 
 Then were there not all the pipers of the country ? the temple 
 musicians, and drums of all kinds, tenor and bass ? Such crashes 
 of noise ! Village bands, the temple musicians, and the hired per- 
 formers, and dancing women, all playing different tunes at the same 
 moment. The horn-players and drums of half the country came 
 in hopes of largess ; and there was one burly fellow from Andoora, 
 
 ! 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 51 
 
 near Nuldroog, whose liorii had wreaths of flowers tied to it, with 
 gold and silver tinsel ribbon, the wild screams of whose instrument, 
 and sometimes its mellow quivering notes, could be heard high 
 above all the others. 
 
 And, to be sure, what feasting ! The household cooking-pans 
 were not half big enough, and those from the temple had to be 
 borrowed : and the neighbours' kitchens, on both sides, were filled 
 with cooks. Pecks and bushels of rice, butter, vegetable stews, and 
 curries ; sweet things, hot things, savoury things ; and Anunda's 
 famous "poorees," reserved for the choicest guests — some even 
 made by herself and Tara. 
 
 There was no room in the house or in the courts for eating, so 
 the street outside was swept and watered; and every day, early 
 in the afternoon, you might see a posse of stout young Brahmuns 
 laying down fresh green plantain-leaves in double rows on the 
 ground, with broad alleys between them, and then long files of 
 clean-shaven Brahmuns sit down behind them ; and after them a 
 procession of men bearing on their shoulders huge pans full of rice, 
 hot from the kitchen, and slung on poles — :baskets of hot bread, 
 poorees, curries, stews, and the like, would march down the middle, 
 ladling out portions of all to each, and helping liberally to melted 
 bntter, hot " chutnees," and other toothsome condiments. 
 
 And the men ate and ate till they could eat no more, and the 
 crowds on the house-terraces above them watched the eating, cheered 
 the eaters, and bandied free jokes from side to side of the street at 
 themselves, the eaters, the carriers of the viands, or the passengers. 
 So they ate and ate by hundreds and hundreds at a time ; and many 
 a hungry Brahmun, hardly knowing how to get a meal of coarse 
 jowaree cakes in his own home, took his water- vessel and blanket^ 
 travelled from twenty to thirty miles round to the wedding, received 
 a hearty welcome, and ate as he had perhaps never eaten before, and 
 remembered it all his life afterwards. 
 
 Yes, it was a capital wedding ; and the village and town gossips 
 who criticised it at the time, and spoke of it afterwards, could ac- 
 tually find no fault. There was not a poor old hag in Tool jap oor or 
 Sindphul, ay, and for the matter of that, in other villages further 
 distant, who did not get a hearty meal ; or if she were too infirm to 
 stay and eat, a liberal dole of flour, or rice and butter, with salt and 
 pepper. Not a family of Mahrattas in the town, nor, indeed, re- 
 spectable Mahomedans either, who had not materials for a meal sent 
 to them, accompanied by pipe and tabor, horn and drum, or band and 
 trumpets, according to the scale of their rank. And from all friends, 
 presents for the bride, in proportion to their means, from the 
 richest silken and gold sarees, down to a humble cotton bodice, 
 added to the stores with which Badha was already provided. 
 
52 TABA 
 
 One by one tlie ceremonies were finished. The last — the solemn 
 rite of actual marriage — as the bride and bridegroom sat side by 
 side, when the consecrated thread was wonnd round them by the 
 attendant Brahmuns, and the mystic hymns and invocations chanted.; 
 when their garments were tied together in the irrevocable knot, 
 and they repeated the promises and vows, much like our own, to 
 love and cherish each other — then E-adha's veil was raised; and 
 though he had seen her form for many days in succession, Vyas 
 Shastree now saw his young wife's beautiful face for the first time. 
 
 It was a happy look, in one of her happy moods. Those 
 glorious eyes were not excited, but soft, timid, and shyly raised to 
 him in trust and confidence. Anunda and Tara had Vv^atched for 
 the effect upon him with beating hearts and clasped hands. There 
 could be no doubt of the expression of his face — wonder first, then 
 gratification, perhaps love. " Thou wast right, wife," he said 
 afterwards ; " she hath a nymph's form, a deer's eyes, and a mouth 
 like Kamdeo." 
 
 So it was all finished at last ; the guests departed, the courts were 
 swept, and the house again cleaned out. The garlands of leaves and 
 flowers still hung at the gate, and from pillar to pillar of the verandah ; 
 and certain post-nuptial ceremonies performed at the temple was all 
 that remained of the outer show of the marriage. Within was the 
 girl-bride, happy in being free from her brother, whom she feared 
 though she loved him, and from her aunt, whom she disliked as well 
 as feared; happy in her new sister- wife, to whom she felt like a 
 daughter; happier in Tara, a sister in truth, and she never had 
 known one before ; content, too, to see the Shastree unreservedly, ah.d 
 to feel that her beauty grew on him — for as yet, beyond a few words, 
 they had not spoken. 
 
 As Moro Trimmul had determined, Sukya Bye was despatched to 
 their home a few days after the ceremony. She had pleaded hard 
 to be allowed to stay over the Kow Ratree, and Anunda had asked 
 the favour at her instance ; but her nephew was distinct in his re- 
 fusal, yet not so as to display anger or vexation. It was simply 
 impossible, he said ; she had been too long absent from home, and 
 he himself must go on his own affairs. So she received parting 
 gifts of rich silk cloths from Badha, Anunda, and the Shastree, and 
 
 departed to Wye. 
 ... ».•••« 
 
 The last night that Moro Trimmul was to remain at Tooljapoor, he 
 took an opportunity of telling Badha that he should pretend to go 
 out, but conceal himself in the school court, which was not lighted, 
 and that she was to come to him when all were asleep or retired ; he 
 should wait for her there, for he had much to say to her. 
 
 So he had. How he had restrained himself hitherto he knew not. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 53 
 
 How, day by day, lie liad seen Tara, spoken to her, amused lier, ex- 
 cited her, gloated over her beauty, which, if remarkable abroad 
 where she was guarded, was in a thousand degrees more captivating 
 and enthralling in the free household intercourse — and yet had done 
 nothing towards possessing himself of her — was what he could 
 neither understand nor endure any longer. Gunga could not help 
 Mm; he saw clearly that Tara utterly refused communication 
 with her : utterly refused to participate in the lower degrees of 
 ceremonies and orgies at which Gunga assisted with a lower order 
 of priests who officiated for the inferior castes of the people ; and she 
 refused the mystic marriage to the sword of the goddess, which 
 the " Moorlees " performed in order to cloak their profligacy. 
 
 Gunga, therefore, baffled for a while, bided her time ; but she 
 and her sister priestesses had vowed revenge, and were all in Moro 
 Trimmul's interest. Meanwhile his sister must help him ; and this, 
 with cruel perseverance, it was his object to effect through her at 
 any risk. 
 
 He waited long, for the girl could not get away unobserved. 
 At last she came, scared and terrified lest her absence should be 
 detected; but all were asleep — Tara beside her in the verandah, 
 the Shastree among his books in the book-room, Anunda in her 
 own sleeping-room within. She did not find her brother in better 
 temper for his detention. 
 
 " Take this," he said to her, returning a gold anklet of Tara's, 
 which Radha had borrowed from her to be copied ; " for I go to- 
 morrow early, and shall not see thee again till the JS'ow Ratree; 
 but thou hast kept me long, girl, and I had much to say to thee.'* 
 
 " The Shastree was awake reading : even till now I could not pass 
 his door," she said ; "be quick, brother." 
 
 "Ah, thou art trembling. Is this the girl who would have fled to 
 Sivaji E/ajah; and art thou changed already into a Shastree's 
 wife ? " he said, with a sneer. 
 
 The girl shivered. "Do not say such things, brother. I strive 
 to put them away, and they will go, perhaps ; yes, they will go, when 
 no one tells me of him." 
 
 Her brother laughed. "ItsTo, they shall not go, Radha, if I can 
 prevent it ; but thou must be patient, girl. So much for thyself ; 
 now for me." 
 
 " What can I do, brother ? " 
 
 " Thou canst gain Tara for me. Nay, Radlia," he continued, as 
 she trembled still more, and hung to the court door in terror, 
 " none of this cowardice ! I tell thee it must be, and thou must do it." 
 
 "Brother! brother!" gasped the girl, piteously. " I^ot I — not 
 I! What can I do ? O, noti! O, not I ! " 
 
 "What canst thou do ? Much," he returned, sharply; "listen^ 
 
54 TAEA : 
 
 Radlia. Such, things are no sin. She is a Brahmun, as I am ; she 
 is a widow. She is a Moorlee, as free as Gunga, or any of them, 
 and she can please herself. I know she is not indifferent to me : 
 it is for thee to improve this. Speak to her of me, lead her to 
 think of me, tell her what deeds I have done with thy Rajah — I 
 am with him in them — and sing her oiir conntry ballads. I tell 
 thee, girl, if thou doest all this, it will gain her.^' 
 
 " Never, brother, never ; she has no heart for thee. She shud- 
 dered yesterday when I spoke of thee. I saw her — I could not be 
 mistaken. Her heart is with the gods, in her books, cold and dead. 
 
 brother, think not of her ! What can I do ? " 
 
 *'Is it so, sister?'' he said sneeringly. "Then she must be 
 awakened, and that dead heart gain new life ; Radha, thou must do 
 it, thou ! — else " — ^he felt the girl shivering as he grasped her arm, 
 and shook her savagely — " else, wilt thou be long here ? Would 
 tliis Shastree keep thee one hour in his house if he thought, much less 
 if he knew, thou hadst been married before, girl ? Yes, married 
 before ! Ah, that touches thee ! And listen more, if my affair is not 
 furthered he shall know it. What if he cast thee out ? Thou canst 
 go to the temple like Tara; thou canst go to him — to Sivaji — but 
 thoii wilt be a reproach and an outcast. Choose ! — to be happy as 
 
 1 have placed thee, or as I have said. One or other, girl ! the last, 
 and what I have risked for thee — what I have done for thee — will 
 be repaid. O sister ! what Sivaji Rajah is to thee, a burning thought 
 day and night, so Tara is to me, and more. Dost thou hear ? " 
 
 " I — I," gasped the terrified girl, " I hear — I hear. O brother, be 
 not cruel, do not destroy me ; or, if thou wilt, one blow of thy knife 
 — now — now — ^here," and she bared her breast. '* It will be mercy 
 —strike ! " 
 
 " Poor fool," said More Trimmul, "I would not harm thee. Go, re- 
 member what I have said, and do as I tell thee. If she be in the same 
 
 mood when I return, why then Go," he continued,^interrupting 
 
 himself, " I can wait no longer. Fear not, my blessing is on thee," and 
 he put his hands on her head. " For his sake, my lord, my prince and 
 thine, thou shalt come to no harm. Go ! " And saying this he put 
 her gently away from him into the court, closed the door, and easily 
 climbing the low wall, dropped into the street beyond. 
 
 *' One thing more ere the night passes," he said, as he walked 
 rapidly through the deserted streets to the house they had lived in, near 
 the Shastree's : " if she is there, well ; if not, I must seek her. What 
 she wanted must have been brought ere this." 
 
 *' She is within, master," said a man sitting at the gate, with a 
 black blanket round him, who spoke ere More Trimmul could ask ; 
 " she has been here an hour or more ; and here are some things the 
 sonar brought this evening when you were absent." 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 55 
 
 " Good," said the Pundit, passing in ; " see that no one enters." 
 
 The man langhed. " It is too late, master, now. No one will come. 
 Are we to leave early ? " 
 
 " Tell them to bring the horses at daylight," he replied ; "we will 
 get on to Darasew before noon. We mnst be at Thair before night. 
 Is all prepared ? " 
 
 " Yes, the saddle-bags are packed, and Bheema and myself remain ; 
 all the rest went with the lady Sukya." 
 
 " Then go and sleep, for we have a long jonrney to-morrow. I do 
 not need thee. Grive me the key of the court door. I can lock myself 
 in, and I shall be awake long before you in the morning." 
 
 He entered the court and locked the gate behind him. A lamp was 
 burning in a recess of the verandah, and its light fell upon the 
 figure of the girl Grunga, who had covered herself with a sheet, and, 
 most likely weary with waiting for him, had fallen asleep. She 
 did not hear him ; and as he had left his shoes by the side of the 
 outer door, there was no noise whatever from his bare feet. 
 
 Moro Trimmul stood over her, and, as he did so, she moved un- 
 easily in her sleep, turned and said something ; he could not catch the 
 words. Then some cruel thoughts passed suddenly through his 
 mind. Gunga knew too much ; a blow of his knife would silence 
 for ever all chance of disclosure of what had been done for Radha ; 
 the gold he had to give her would be saved. There was a large well 
 or cistern behind the house ; the wall of the back-yard hung over it ; 
 it was a place where the women of the town washed their clothes, 
 and was so held to be unclean. That would hide her. A Moorlee ? 
 What Moorlee had not jealousies and strifes ? Who would care for 
 her ? And he drew the dagger and stood over her in an attitude 
 to strike. 
 
 Why he hesitated ho could never tell ; certainly it was not from 
 fear. Perhaps some lingering feeling of compassion for one so young 
 — ^perhaps the memory of some caress — stayed the blow for an in- 
 stant, for he did not strike. The light fell full on her eyes and f a€e 
 as she turned, and she smiled and awoke suddenly. 
 
 "I dreamed of thee, beloved," she said, stretching out her arms to 
 
 him, " and thou art here But why the knife ? " she continued, 
 
 quickly sitting up, as the light gleamed on the blade. '' Moro ! — I — 
 I — I fear thee ; why dost thou look at me so ? Ah ! " and she covered 
 her eyes with her hand, expecting death. 
 
 " Only to cut these strings," he said, with a hard laugh, recovering 
 himself and dividing the cord which was tied round the paper con- 
 taining the gold anklets. " Look, Gunga ! " and he held them up to 
 the light, and shook them till the little bells on them clashed gently. 
 
 " Thou art good," she said, looking up as he held them above her, 
 still shaking them ; " they are very, very beautiful, but thou wilt not 
 
TABA : 
 
 give theni to me, for tlLOu liast not got Tara. Ali ! tliou liast just 
 come from her, and wilt not give tliem. Go ! go back to her." 
 
 " But my sister is lier father's wife, and these are heavier than 
 Tara's. I have not broken faith with thee, Gunga," he repHed, " nor 
 my oath at the Pap-nas temple. Take them — they are thine hence- 
 forth. And now wilt thou go with me, Gunga ? I have prepared 
 a horse for thee, and Bheema can walk." 
 
 " To the end of life," cried the girl, who had risen to her knees to 
 put on the anklets, and who now clasped his feet, — " to the end of 
 life ! Kill me if thou wilt, Moro Trimmul, who would care ? It 
 would be no pain to Gunga." 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A THICK heavy rain was falling, which had lasted nearly all day with- 
 out intermission, and the afternoon was now advanced. The sky was 
 one uniform tint of dark grey, in which, near the horizon, some yellow- 
 ish, lurid colour occasionally appeared. Dark masses of cloud came 
 up slowly from the south-west at times, causing a deeper gloom as 
 they passed overhead, accompanied by bursts of rain, which some- 
 times fell in sheets, deluging the ground, and dashing up muddy 
 Bpray from the soft earth. The air was stifling; and there was a 
 strong sulphurous smell with the rain, which increased the disagree- 
 able effect of the close, hot atmosphere. Sometimes a gentle breeze, 
 hardly sufficient to give the rain a slanting direction, arose, and felt re- 
 freshing ; but as the heavy clouds passed, it died away, and the rain 
 fell perpendicularly again, with a constant monotonous plash, which, 
 coming from a wide plain, sounded like a dull roar. 
 
 Little could be seen of the plain itself ; for not only was the 
 rain too thick to allow of any distance to appear definitely, but 
 there was a steamy mist rising from the previously heated earth, 
 which increased the already existing dimness and gloom. Some- 
 times a few trees in the vicinity, which appeared tall and ghostly 
 in the grey light and thick air, stood out more in detail as the rain 
 slackened for a while, and seemed to give promise of breaking ; and 
 on these occasions two villages became dimly visible ; one of them 
 nearly a mile distant, the other perhaps half a mile farther, situated 
 to the right and left of what, in dry weather, was a well-beaten 
 road-track, but which could only now be known as such, by being 
 bare of grass, and by the slightly raised banks, covered here and 
 there by low bushes, which bounded it. 
 
 The place we are about to describe occupied the summit of a 
 small eminence, below which, in a valley watered by a rivulet, was a 
 
I 
 
 A MAIIRATTA TALE, 57 
 
 village surrounded by tall crops of grain, now coming into ear, 
 mingled with fields of cotton, as yet very low, and pulse, and other 
 cereals, generally about waist- high. This difference in the height of 
 the crops left the valley comparatively open; and the road-track 
 could be followed by the eye, whenever the mist and rain cleared 
 a little — through the fields to the gate of the first village, before 
 which there was an open piece of ground, past a small Hindu 
 temple surrounded with trees, and up a slight ascent beyond, to a 
 plain, along which it continued, till it disappeared among the tall 
 jowaree fields and other cultivation of the next village. These two 
 villages were called the greater and less Kinny. 
 
 The valley, or hollow, was little more than a descent in the un- 
 dulation of the country ; but, when the rain fell heavily at the 
 nearer village, so as almost to conceal it, the effect from the 
 eminence we describe was, as though it were actually deep and 
 broad ; and then also the farther village, with its trees, appeared 
 distant, and sometimes was not visible at all. Thus alternating, 
 as sometimes plainly in view, and at others not to be seen, these 
 villages appeared to be objects of deep interest to three men, who 
 occupied the spot we have just mentioned. Occasionally, and as 
 the rain cleared a little, one or other of them would proceed to the 
 top of a heap of stones near at hand, and look anxiously along 
 the line of road, past the fields and the open space before the 
 gate of the first Kinny, up the ascent beyond, and over the plain 
 to the second ; and there were moments when a man on horseback 
 might easily have been descried even at the further village, cer- 
 tainly at the second, or between them, had such a person been 
 upon the road ; but no one appeared. 
 
 The spot was remarkable as the highest point for a long distance 
 either way upon the road-track ; and indeed, had the day been 
 clear, a large extent of country could have been seen from it in 
 all directions. N'ow, however, the view was very limited ; and on 
 the opposite sides from the two villages nothing could be seen 
 but a plain, thinly covered with grass and bushes, and strewn 
 thickly with black stones, which, uncultivated as it was for miles, 
 looked doubly desolate through the misty air, being partially 
 covered with pools of water of a yellowish brown colour, the result 
 of the present rain. Over this plain, three roads or paths diverged 
 from the place the men occupied. The main track, which had the 
 appearance of being somewhat beaten, was broader than the others, 
 and led westward to the town of AUund, about six miles distant, — 
 the others to villages from two to four miles to the south and west. 
 
 The plain was, as we have said, very stony, and at the place 
 we allude to, the heap of stones had been formed gradually by 
 travellers who, coming from all sides, took up one from the, path, 
 
58 TABA: 
 
 and tlirew it, witli a prayer to tlie local divinity, upon the pile. 
 This had been done, no donbt, for centuries ; still the stones upon 
 the path appeared as thick as ever, and sorely impeded and 
 harassed all travellers, whether on foot or horseback. 
 
 Over this heap of stones grew a large banian, and close to it 
 several scraggy neem trees; a peepul, too, had once existed, but 
 was dead. Part of the trunk and one large branch remained stand- 
 ing, white and dry, and a portion of another lay on the ground, 
 from which chips of firewood had been cut from time to time. 
 It looked as if it had been struck with lightning, which, indeed, 
 was not improbable, as several branches of the banian were scathed 
 and riven, probably from the same cause. Of all these trees, however, 
 the banian or " burr," as it is called in the language of the country, 
 was most remarkable. 
 
 ISTot possessed of the luxuriant foliage common to this tree in 
 other places, probably because the soil was too poor and rocky, its 
 huge gnarled boughs were bare of small branches and leaves ; some 
 were naked and actually withered, others apparently so, and all 
 stretched their white gaunt arms into the sky, with a wild and 
 ghastly effect against the leaden grey of the clouds. In process of 
 the centuries of its existence, several boughs had become detached 
 from the parent trunk, and were upheld by stems which had once 
 been pendant roots, and had struck into the ground. These 
 portions, if anything more bare, and more gnarled and twisted than 
 the parent tree, rose loftily into the air, and with the same effect 
 we have already noticed. 
 
 The larger boughs and stems were full of holes, which sheltered a 
 numerous colony of small grey tree -owls, whose bright yellow eyes 
 stared from behind large boughs, and out of crevices in the trunks, 
 or from among the ornaments of the roof of the temple below ; while 
 they kept up a perpetual twittering, as if they conversed together, 
 which indeed perhaps they did. On hot bright days lizards, large 
 and small, crept out of crevices and basked in the sun ; and among 
 them a family of huge black ones, with bright eyes and scarlet 
 throats, which they inflated as they appeared to swell with impor- 
 tance. Shepherd boys believed these to be evil spirits, and if they 
 were brave, pelted them with stones, or if otherwise ran off, as one 
 of them issued forth and looked about curiously. 
 
 Some large holes, too, near the top of the tree, contained great 
 homed owls, which, if attracted by any noise, sat, with stupidly-grave 
 aspect and wide saucer-eyes, looking down upon the road — the tufts 
 of feathers over their ears alternately erected and depressed — till they 
 flew out with a loud hoot to look for some more undisturbed retreat. 
 These owls, great and small, with the lizards, had the tree, for the 
 most part, to themselves. Probably there was n6t enough foliage to 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 59 
 
 tempt other birds to rest there ; for except an occasional wandering 
 flock of chattering parroqnets, mjnas, or green pigeons, none fre- 
 quented it by day. By night, however, it was otherwise : for it was 
 then the roosting-place of the vultures, eagles, and other carrion 
 birds of the'district, with whom the owls did not apparently interfere. 
 
 At the back, partly behind the parent tree and the heap of stones, 
 was a small and evidently ancient Hindu temple, consisting of one 
 chamber and a porch. The chamber was not much larger than 
 sufficed to contain the image, and allow a priest to officiate before it 
 in case of necessity, and was too low to admit of a man's standing 
 upright. The porch, which was supported in front by two roughly- 
 hewn stone pillars, was somewhat larger ; and the three men we have 
 mentioned, were enabled to sit in it comfortably, protected from the 
 rain. The doorway was narrow and low, and the inside of the 
 chamber was dark ; but a small Phallic emblem could be seen within 
 set upon a low altar, and a rudely-sculptured stone bull, in a sitting 
 posture, had originally been placed before the porch facing the image. 
 The temple, image, and bull showed that the grove had been ori- 
 ginally dedicated to Siva, or Mahadeo, in the form of that ancient 
 " pillar and calf " worship so fatal to the Israelites of old, and which 
 for them possessed so strange a fascination. 
 
 The temple was deserted, and, except on the annual festival of the 
 god, when some priest from a neighbouring village swept out the 
 chamber, brought a light to bum before the image, poured the usual 
 libations, and hung a few garlands of jessamine and marigold flowers 
 over it, no one ever came with intent to, worship, and the place 
 was utterly neglected. Last year's garlands were now but dry brown 
 leaves hanging to a cotton thread; the chamber was dirty, and 
 strewn with dead leaves ; the stone bull in front was overthrown, 
 and lying on its side, and even in bright sunshine the place presented 
 a melancholy, deserted appearance. Sometimes, in the heat of the 
 day, village lads, in charge of goats and cattle, would meet there, 
 bat only in lack of other shelter from the sun ; for indeed the spot 
 had an evil reputation, and not without reason. 
 
 It is not surprising that it was believed to be the resort of malig- 
 nant spirits which love to dwell in such places, and of tricksy and 
 mischievous sprites which inhabited the large holes in the old 
 trunks, sharing them with the owls and lizards that lived there : 
 vexed travellers' horses, causing them to cast shoes in the stones, or 
 led wayfarers astray, especially at night, among the many paths over 
 the stony plain — or bewitched cows and buffaloes, and dried up their 
 milk. So, ofttimes, shepherds came with][flowers, and poured liba- 
 tions of milk and curds, after a rude fashion, over a few large stones 
 which lay among the gnarled roots of the great tree, and had been 
 placed there as devoted to the local divinities — Fauns and Dryads — 
 
€0 TAEA : 
 
 and tlierefore lield in rude reverence ; and these, on such occasions, 
 were smeared with red or black powder in a kind of deprecatory 
 worship. 
 
 It was not for these reasons alone that the place Yf as dreaded ; it 
 had, from other causes, even a worse reputation. It was notorious as 
 the place of meeting for most of the gang robberies in the country ; 
 for assemblies of parties of highway robbers, and the distribution of 
 stolen property. Watchmen on village towers at night, sometimes 
 saw fires twinkling about the temple, and well knew the cause of 
 them ; and shepherd boys next day found rude clay crucibles and ex- 
 tinguished charcoal fires in one place where the trunk was hollow 
 at the root of the tree, and thus knew that gold and silver had been 
 melted there at night. 
 
 Murder, too, had been done there. On one occasion, not very long 
 ago, several fresh corpses had been found in the old well barely 
 concealed by leaves and bushes ; and, more recently, a body found 
 lying on the road had been dragged from the line of one village 
 boundary to another — for several boundaries of village lands diverged 
 from that spot — to escape the king's fine, till it was eaten by vul- 
 tures and hyenas, and the bones lay and bleached under the great tree 
 for many a day, to the terror of all wayfarers. In short, the place 
 was thus esteemed evil for many reasons ; and whether villagers or 
 travellers came past it by any of the roads over the plain, or from 
 the two Kinnys, alone or in company, they hurried past the temple, 
 breathing a spell or prayer against the ghosts and spirits which 
 dwelt in it, and heartily wishing themselves safe beyond its precincts. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The three persons who were sheltering themselves in the porch of 
 the temple had apparently no apprehensions. Each in turn, throw- 
 ing a coarse black blanket about him, mounted the heap of stones 
 and looked eagerly toward the villages and along the line of road. 
 The others sat together, rolling up leaves of the banian tree from 
 time to time, which they filled with tobacco from their pouches, and 
 smoked as fast as made. All three were heavily armed with long 
 straight swords with solid basket-handles, from which a spike pro- 
 jected below]^the hilt, enabling the wearer to use his weapon double- 
 handed, as well as to protect the wrist ; shields of stout hide, with 
 brass bosses, hung at their backs, and daggers of different forms 
 were in their girdles. In the chamber of the temple their three 
 matchlocks leaned against the wall — two being ordinary ones with 
 long bright barrels, the other short and handsomely inlaid with gold, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 61 
 
 evidently of superior value to the others. The men wore their large 
 crooked powder-horns, and bullet-bags, with tinder-boxes, attached 
 to soft leather waistbelts, and their priming-horns, hung to the 
 breast-buckles of their sword-belts, of buff leather. The matchlocks 
 were ready for instant use ; for the matches were lighted, and the 
 smoke, from the match-ends, and that of a small fire made of dried 
 twigs, filled the chamber and issued from the door. 
 
 The two men who were sitting in the porch — one had just gone 
 and taken post again upon the stones — were stout square-built 
 fellows, of dark-brown complexion, with peculiarly round powerful 
 shoulders, which gave them almost the appearance of deformity. 
 They wore coarse cotton tunics and tight drawers, which reached to 
 the knee, leaving the lower part of the legs bare, and showing them 
 to be sinewy and well exercised by constant travel. They had not 
 removed their sandals, which were strong and studded with large- 
 headed nails, and, as they sat together, the resemblance in figure was 
 very striking. They were, in fact, twin-brothers, and, being Mahrattas, 
 had been named, as is usual, Rama and Lukshmun, after the popular 
 heroes of the Mahabarut. Even in features there was a strong resem- 
 blance; but the expression of the elder, Rama, was as gloomy, if not 
 savage, as that of the younger, Lukshmun, was cheerful and good- 
 natured. 
 
 The brothers had been long silent, and the third person, who, with 
 a heavy black blanket thrown over his head, had been sitting for 
 some time upon the stones, got up and returned to the porch as a 
 fresh cloud passed overhead, accompanied by heavier rain than be- 
 fore, which gradually shut out the village and road from his view, 
 shook the wet from the blanket, and stood looking gloomily at the 
 sky and the torrents of water which were running off the ground 
 towards the declivity of the eminence. There was a great contrast 
 between this person and the others in every respect, and he merits, 
 perhaps, a separate description. 
 
 Though young, he was evidently the leader of the party, and his 
 comparatively fair complexion and regular features, as well as the 
 caste-mark on his forehead, showed him to be a Rajpoot, descended 
 from those emigrants from ISTorthern India whom military service, 
 even at that period, had tempted from Oude and Delhi to the 
 remote Dekhan. In stature, as in powerful make, he much exceeded 
 his companions, and his carriage was soldierlike and graceful. He 
 wore a quilted tunic of what had once been gay red " mushroo," 
 the strong satin of the country, but now stained and frayed ; long 
 tight drawers, turned up to the calf ; a dark red turban, of fine tex- 
 ture, jauntily cocked aside, its gold thread end being turned back 
 over the top ; and his powder-horn, bullet-bag, and shield, as well as 
 a little gold embroidery upon his sword-belt, all of a better quality 
 
62 ' TABA : 
 
 tTian tlie otliers, -with a fine single pearl ear-ring — proved Hra to 
 be as mucli superior to them in rank, as his expression and deport- 
 ment were in intelligence. 
 
 Gopal Singh, for such was his name, was, in truth, decidedly 
 good-looking. Large black eyes, full of light, a prominent nose, 
 bushy whiskers, very neatly trimmed, and a small moustache twisted 
 upwards into close curls at the corners of a mouth delicately 
 formed and almost effeminate in character when relaxed, but which, 
 when the lips Vv^ere compressed, seemed full of deep expression both 
 for good and evil, — the chin, clean- shaved and prominent, betokening 
 firmness, — all combined to form a countenance in which decision and 
 energy were evident ; but, in spite of his good features, their general 
 expression was repellant, expressing cruelty and lawlessness of no 
 common order. 
 
 *' He will never get across the Benathoora to-day, my friends," he 
 said, stepping into a dry corner of the porch and sitting down ; " and 
 we have a weary journey to Itga before us in this mud ; yet I dare 
 not face the master, my uncle, without some news of him." 
 
 " Maharaj," replied, llama, respectfully, folding his hands — '' Great 
 prince " — by which title (an ordinary one of respect), or that of Je- 
 madar, Gropal Singh was usually addressed by them — " I know the 
 Benathoora, and she will not come down before night ; and if it 
 be true that the man left KuUianee yesterday, there is plenty of 
 time for him to be here by sunset. Depend upon it, he will make 
 for Allund to-day, and there will have been no deep mud for some hours 
 after he left. Couldst thou see nothing on the road ? " 
 
 " Nothing, Rama. At one time I thought I saw him at the gate of 
 the village yonder, but as the rain cleared off, it was only some cattle 
 going in ; then the mist closed up the view, and I could see no more, 
 and came away. By Krishna, but this rain is something to see ! 
 I question whether he could cross the nulla down there before 
 Kinny, it seems filling so fast." 
 
 "Ah! he can ford it well enough if he is bent on coming," said 
 Lukshmun, " and he could not stop at either village, for I told the 
 Go^vra this morning, if a stranger came, to send him on with a 
 guide, and to shut the gate if he wanted to stop. So, if he left 
 Kullianee yesterday, he ought to have come a good distance before 
 night ; and if he started again this morning, there is no river, or 
 nulla, between to stop him but the Benathoora, -and that will be 
 fordable till midnight, even with heavier rain than this. He would 
 not stay for the rain to clear ? " 
 
 *' He must have left it," returned the Jemadar ; " he dared not stay 
 there. One of old Lukmun Geer's disciples was to accompany him 
 to a village half-way to Allund yesterday, and send him on from 
 thence with guides from village to village. "We offered escort, 
 but he would take no one — the fellow was suspicious." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 63 
 
 " Then lie is quite safe, Maliaraj. The guides may plague him; bat 
 if he started under injunctions from the old Bawa's disciple, he will 
 he passed on carefully," returned E-ama. 
 
 " I hope he is, brothers. I would not lose our chance of the gold 
 he has for something — nor indeed of himself." 
 
 " Gold ! Jemadar," cried both eagerly, in a breath. 
 
 " Yes, my friends ; good royal mohurs, I know ; for the day before 
 yesterday he rested at the Gosai's Mutt, and had a Hoondee cashed 
 in the shop. It was a goodly pouchful, I know, and it will come to us 
 if we wait patiently." 
 
 Gopal Singh lighted some tinder with his flint and steel, and then 
 a leaf cigarette, as we may call it, and began to smoke in silence 
 which was only broken by the dripping of the rain from the porch of 
 the temple and the tree, the general plash over the plain, and the 
 loud and continuous croaking of the frogs in the pools and puddles. 
 
 The Jemadar first broke silence. " Some one must look again," 
 he continued, after a while; "and it is brighter now. Gro thou, 
 Lukshmun, take the blanket and sit close." 
 
 " It is not weather to turn out a dog," muttered the man, sulkily, 
 getting up and stepping down from the porch; "but I will go, 
 Maharaj, if it is your order. Shall 1 go on to Kinny," he continued, 
 "and see if I can get tidings of him ? Better that than sitting up 
 there like a drenched scarecrow in a field." 
 
 " Good, brother, go ! Try the nulla before you venture into the 
 roiddle of it, lest it be too strong for you," said Rama. 
 
 "And wait there for a time," added the Jemadar. "If he do not 
 arrive before night thou canst bring some flour, ghee, and sugar from 
 the Patel ; for if we are to watch here all night we had need to eat, 
 and I must make some bread ; but if the man comes, bring him on — 
 he will be well-mounted and will not fear the nulla, and thou canst 
 invent something about going back to Allund on urgent business." 
 
 " Trust me for that. Jemadar. If I have an ugly face I can speak 
 soft words when I choose, and I know enough of the camp language 
 to make him understand. Now, I am going." So saying, he doubled 
 the blanket in a peculiar manner, so as to form a cloak, threw it 
 over his head and shoulders, and folded the sides tightly about him ; 
 then taking off his sandals, which he carried in his hand, he strode 
 away in the rain, as rapidly as the mud would admit. 
 
 " Take care of the thorns in the lane near the village ; put on your 
 sandals there : we can't have you troubling us with a Babool thorn in 
 your foot," shouted the Jemadar. 
 
 Lukshmun turned round and nodded his assent, and continued as 
 before. They watched him silently till he disappeared over the brow 
 of the eminence, when Rama said to his companion, " What if they 
 have sent the man on by the other road, or warned him, Jemadar ? " 
 
64 TABA 
 
 There was another road which passed about half a mile to the south 
 of where they sat. 
 
 "He dare not, Rama ; by his soul he dare not," replied the Jema- 
 dar, with flashing eyes and distended nostrils. " Do you think he 
 would dare my uncle's vengeance ? does he wish his cattle to be har- 
 ried by Pahar Singh, and his village burnt ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not ; and it would be likely enough to happen, Jemadar,'* 
 said Rama, laughing ; " and, I suppose, we should have to come to do 
 it. But what is to be done with the man ? — That ? " and he pointed 
 significantly to the old well with his thumb. 
 
 "0 no, Rama," returned the other, laughing in his turn. "N'o- 
 thing of that kind, now. The man himself is precious, why, the 
 uncle knows, and some more of them, though they have not told me. 
 I only hope he will not make a fight of it and get hurt." 
 
 " Then we could not help it, of course. Jemadar." 
 
 "No, indeed, friend. But we are three to one, and he is only a 
 Mutsuddee after all — not a man of war — he will be quiet enough, I 
 dare say." 
 
 " Well, if I am to say the truth, Maharaj, I am glad of it," returned 
 Rama. "It is all very well to kill people in a fair foray, or if any- 
 body will fight in a Durora, one's blood is up, and it does not matter ; 
 but, somehow or other, the last affair here was not agreeable, and ever 
 since I have not liked the place at night. We need not add to the 
 people that lie yonder," and he pointed over his shoulder to a corner of 
 the tree, " unless, indeed, it is to be, then of course we can't help it." 
 
 " ISTor I either, Rama. It is only pleasant here when there are fifty 
 or sixty good fellows assembled, and the gold and silver are boiling 
 in the pots yonder. I don't like this new business as well as the 
 old By Gunga, what a flash ! " 
 
 Indeed the flash of lightning, which caused both to start to their 
 feet, was nearly blinding. Without warning, except by the passage 
 of another dark cloud above, it had fallen on part of the old tree 
 which was separate from the rest — a branch supported by two 
 roots which had struck into the ground — and had riven away part of 
 it, which fell across the mound of stones with a loud and heavy crash, 
 and was followed by a cracking peal of thunder, so loud and so near 
 that the men involuntarily put their hands to their ears. 
 
 "It would have killed him if he had been on the stones," said 
 Rama, who first spoke, as the peal, spreading itself over the heavens, 
 was dying into deep growls in the distance. " By all the gods ! was 
 there ever such thunder ? " 
 
 "It will break up the clouds, perhaps," returned the Jemadar, 
 " and this rain will then stop. Yes, it was a narrow escape, indeed, 
 and we may be thankful he went. It is a good omen for us, 
 Rama ! " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 65 
 
 " I Yow a rupee to be inlaid in tlie floor of tlie temple of Devi, at 
 Tooljapoor, and to feed twenty-four Bralimnns," said the man, rever- 
 ently. "Yes," lie added, looking up and over tlie plain, " I tliink it 
 will break up before sunset." 
 
 But we must follow the spy on bis double errand, wbile tbe pair, 
 wbo still converse, speculate upon the probable issue of it, smoke by 
 turns, and long for a break in the rain. And there is another person, 
 too, who must needs be looked after on his journey hitherward. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A STOUT serving-man was holding a powerful grey horse, which, well, 
 if not handsomely, caparisoned, stood neighing loudly before the door 
 of an ordinary house in the main street of Surroori, a small village 
 nearly midway between the towns of Kullianee and AUund, as a 
 person within, evidently of a superior class, was girding up his waist 
 with a shawl, and otherwise preparing himself for a day's journey. 
 Of middle stature, thin but well-proportioned, vfith a light bamboo- 
 coloured complexion of a pale cast, and a shght habitual stoop, 
 the man seemed unaccustomed to rough exertion ; and the sword he 
 had just fastened into his waistbelt, along with an ivory-handled 
 poniard and knife, was apparently more for ornament than for use 
 — such a one as might be used at court, or by a boy, — not the 
 weapon of a soldier. 
 
 The man's face was clean shaven, except a long moustache, which 
 drooped very much at the corners, and the features were by no 
 means ill-favoured. A first glance showed an expression of much 
 intelligence, mingled, however, as you looked further, with much 
 cunning. The eyes were small, deep-set under bushy eyebrows, 
 and of a light grey ; the nose high and aquiline, but broad across 
 the nostrils, and hung over the moustache in a peculiar manner ; 
 the forehead was wrinkled into furrows by habitual elevation of the 
 eyebrows ; and, as far as the upper part of the face was concerned, 
 it had an appearance of firmness, which the lower portion belied ; 
 for the moiith, drawn up at the corners in a constant and apparently 
 hypocritical attempt to smile, • was evidently performing an office 
 foreign to its intention ; and the chin, which suddenly retreated into 
 a somewhat bony throat, had no character but decided weakness, if 
 not, indeed, actual cowardice and deceit. Thus, the whole features 
 wore a restless, suspicious, and hypocritical expression, which, most 
 likely, was a true indication of the possessor's mind. 
 
 Lalla Toolsee Das was not a native of the Dekhan, but had served 
 for the last two years, or nearly so, in the Duf ter, or Record Office of 
 
66 TABA : 
 
 tlie Emperor Aumngzeeb. The Lalla had been sent from Delhi to 
 his uncle, who was in the Emperor's service : and, having given 
 proofs of ability as a Persian scholar, he had been appointed to a 
 confidential situation about the Emperor himself. What use the 
 Lalla had made of his position will appear hereafter, as also why 
 he now undertook a long journey alone, in a strange country, and 
 at an inclement season of the year. Meanwhile we have only to 
 describe his progress, which, so far as the weather is concerned, 
 appears uncertain. 
 
 The Lalla had risen early, bathed, breakfasted, and packed his 
 saddle-bags. He had looked out several times since morning, but 
 always with the same result as to the sky, which continued of a dull, 
 leaden grey, with occasional rain. There was no wind, it was close 
 and hot, and his host, an old Byragee, who was a lay monk of the 
 Mutt, or monastery, at KuUianee, which the Lalla had left the day 
 before, was persuading him to remain. But the indifferent night's 
 rest he had endured from the venomous mosquitoes, the moaning of 
 a cow over a new-born calf, and other noises from cattle and goats, 
 — from the women, who ground at the mill so early in the house, 
 singing a discordant Canarese song — and, above all, his personal 
 anxiety to proceed, — have weighed against the weather. 
 
 *'Ah, my poor Mootee," said the Lalla, as he heard his horse 
 neigh, " thou wilt have a hard day of it, I fear, in the mud. How 
 far didst thou say it was, Bawa Sahib ? " he continued to his host. 
 
 "It is six coss, by our reckoning here, by one road — seven or 
 eight by the other," replied the Byragee, "which, in the coss you 
 are accustomed to in Hindustan, will be ten one way, and thirteen 
 the other." 
 
 "And you recommend the longest road, Bawajee ? " 
 " Well, sir, it is as you please. You will have somewhat less 
 mud and stones by the upper road than by the lower — that is all." 
 
 " Ah, friend," continued the Lalla, as we shall call him, " four coss 
 more at the end of a hard day is not pleasant, and so the less the 
 better. Let me see ; here is my route. Ah, Kinny, little and great ; 
 I suppose I can rest at either if I like, though I should prefer 
 getting on to the worthy Fathers' Mutt at AUund." 
 
 " Certainly," replied the old man ; " but do not stop at Eanny, if 
 you can help ; and, above all, do not shelter yourself at the temple 
 on the hill, under the ' Burr ' tree. Ah, yes, there will be heavy rain 
 to-day, Lallajee, for it is so hot," he continued, looking up at the 
 clouds, now deepening into fringes of black here and there; "you 
 had better stay." 
 
 " No, Bawa, I must go on ; and if it rains I can't help it. But 
 about the tree," the Lalla continued ; "I suppose there are sprites 
 and devils in it as usual ; and, to say the truth, I am not afraid of 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 
 
 them. A nmn that always lives among soldiers, you know, gets 
 brave." 
 
 "Indeed," returned the Byragee dryly. " O, of course! But 
 take my advice, and when you change guides at Kinny, ask them to 
 send you by the south road ; it's — it's the best, and some bad places 
 are avoided. But here is the Patel," he added, as that functionary, 
 emerging from his doorway opposite, with a striped blanket over his 
 head and shoulders, saluted the Lalla with a loud " JNTumascar 
 Maharaj ! " " He will direct the guide himself, Lallajee, which will 
 insure a speedy and safe journey." 
 
 They followed the Patel through the village, which, under the 
 steadily increasing rain, looked sufficiently wretched to deter any one 
 from staying, who had not urgent necessity for doing so. This was 
 not the Lalla's predicament ; and he now unfastened a large thick 
 felt travelling- cloak from the pommel of his cloth saddle, put it over 
 his head, and wrapped it around him so as to cover his legs, which 
 were protected by long, soft, Persian riding-boots. 
 
 Few people were astir. Under shelter of the house- walls the dogs 
 had assembled in groups, and, standing with their tails between their 
 legs, barked at the stranger as he passed. Pigs and fowls, being dis- 
 turbed by his horse, ran to and fro, with noisy grunt and cackle. 
 Some cattle stood together in parties near their owners' houses, a 
 heavy steam from their nostrils ascending into the thick air, and 
 broke the silence by an occasional hoarse low. Here and there a 
 stout motherly dame, with a child seated astride on her hip, and 
 others hanging about her, stood, nothing abashed, at her house door, 
 looking at the Lalla as he passed ; or a farmer, with his blanket cast 
 over his head, smoking his morning cigarette, lounged under shelter 
 of his own eaves, and exchanged a morning greeting with the Patel. 
 The spouts of terraced houses were beginning to run fast, and small 
 streams of water were already making their way through the mud. 
 
 In the gateway were two or three "jo wans," or young men, who 
 watched and guarded it, and acted as messengers. One of these 
 was sent for a guide, and the party stayed under shelter till he anived, 
 when the Lalla and his bundle were formally made over to him, to 
 be delivered up at the next village, about two miles distant ; and 
 finally, the Lalla mounted. 
 
 " Don't forget the south road from Kinny," said the Byragee, 
 wishing him a good journey, as the Lalla, making his parting 
 salutation, rode out of the gateway. 
 
 " Who is that ? " asked the Patel. " You kept him mighty close 
 in your Mutt last night." 
 
 " I don't know," returned the other; "but he goes on the govorn- 
 nient business to Beejapoor, and you know the order which came with 
 him. I suppose it is some secret matter, else he wo aid Lave hid an 
 escort." 
 
C8 TAEA : 
 
 "Well, lie is gone, whoever lie is," said tlie Patel ; "and I would 
 ratliei" lie travelled tlian I, even on tliat good beast of his, to Allund, 
 to-day. It is going to rain badly. — but it will do the grain good." 
 And so they fell to talking of their farms, and the prices of grain 
 at the last market, while the Lalla and his guide proceeded onward. 
 
 If the Lalla could have understood his guide, the way might have 
 been beguiled by pleasant gossip of the country round ; but of the 
 vernacular of that part of the country he was profoundly ignorant, 
 and every attempt he made in the " Oordoo," or court language, was 
 metmth a curt " Tillid-illa " — "don't understand" — or an occasional 
 very expressive pantomimic action on the part of the guide, who, 
 looking back, sometimes pointed to the bundle on his head, then to 
 the rain, and again tapped his own stomach, or stuffed his fingers 
 into his mouth, conveying the intimation that he expected to be well 
 rewarded, and was very hungry. Thus the next village was reached, 
 the first guide was dismissed with a little extra gratuity, and the 
 Lalla again proceeded with a fresh one.^ 
 
 The ranges of low hills crossed from time to time had been stony 
 but firm ground, and as yet Motee had not suffered. The dreaded 
 river, which might have cut him off from Allund, was now behind 
 him ; and, after ascending a small eminence, and a wide plain appeared 
 before him, our traveller congratulated himself on a speedy arrival 
 at his destination, having, as he considered, got over at least one half 
 of his journey. 
 
 Very soon, however, the rough, ^tony path changed into one 
 which at times was difficult to discern at all. The plain over which 
 the road now lay was cultivated as far as could be seen, but the fields 
 were as yet unsown. Step after step the mud appeared deeper, the 
 stones in it more numerous and slippery ; and, in fact, after about a 
 mile, during which the rain had fallen more heavily than ever, the 
 plain appeared covered with water, which could not run off, and the 
 black soil of the road and fields to have turned into liquid mud, barely 
 able to support the stones which lay so thickly upon it. So long, 
 too, as the rain had not penetrated far below the surface, Motee's 
 feet had at least the dry earth to rest upon ; but now not even that 
 remained, and yet the gallant horse struggled on, snorting, and 
 occasionally plunging, but evidently becoming wearied by efforts 
 which had no respite. Still the guide led on, sometimes by the road- 
 track, sometimes by its grassy banks, and again leaving both, struck 
 into other paths through the fields which promised firmer footing. 
 
 The rain continued to pour in torrents : indeed, it was more than 
 ever violent : and a flash of blinding lightning, followed by a roar 
 of thunder before them, promised worse weather. Poor Motee even 
 
 * Each Tillage is obliged io farnish a guide to travellers on payment of a 
 small gratuity, and these men relieve Ihcmsclves at every village. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 69 
 
 winced, evincing a strong determination to turn round and set his tail 
 to it ; but a few words of encouragement from his master, and being 
 led a few paces bj the guide, restored his temper, and he proceeded 
 gallantly. 
 
 At the junction of two roads, the guide paused for a moment. 
 One, it was clear, led to a village thej had seen for some time past, 
 the trees of which loomed large and heavy through the thick air, 
 but it appeared out of direction of the path. The Lalla's stock 
 of Canarese was simply nothing — of Mahratta not much more ; but 
 the name of his destination was, at least, intelligible. " AUund," he 
 said, holding out a rupee between his finger and thumb, " Allund ! " 
 
 The guide grinned as he took the coin. " Allund ! " he returned 
 affirmatively, and striking into a path to the right, the Lalla could 
 see that, by avoiding the village to the left, the road led apparently 
 in the direction of what looked like a clump of trees standing out 
 against the sky. Was that the banian tree of which he had been 
 warned by the old Byragee at Surroori ? The Lalla's Uttle stock of 
 Mahratta was again put into requisition, and the guide seemed to 
 understand it readily. 
 
 Yes, the village to the left was Little Kinny ; that to the right, 
 great Kinny, and that was the " Burr " tree beyond. Good; then he 
 had only to avoid the tree, if that indeed were necessary. Since 
 the peal of thunder the rain had decreased, and a breeze was 
 springing up in his face, which was very refreshing. The clouds, 
 too, were breaking, as appeared by patches of bright fringe in the 
 south-west. The guide pointed to them cheerfully, as he moved on 
 at a steady pace ; for the plain, though muddy in parts, was now not 
 so bad as what he had already passed. So, as our frienjd is Hkely to 
 reach Kinny without farther trouble, let us see what Lukshmun has 
 been doing since we left him. 
 
 The little rivulet in the valley was above his knees as he passed it, 
 and, to any one who did not know it, the ford would have been 
 dangerous ; but Lukshmun waded through, without apprehension, and 
 a few minutes after, as he entered the village gateway and shook the 
 rain from his blanket, a group of people assembled there welcomed 
 him with a hearty shout of greeting. 
 
 " We thought you would have given it up and departed,", said the 
 old Patel, who, with his son, a few of the village farmers, and the 
 Putwari, or accountant, were sitting in an open chamber of the deep 
 gateway, the usual place of business. " We thought you would have 
 gone away, f else I would have sent up some milk. Why did you 
 not come and sit here, instead of in that ungodly place up yonder ? 
 Here, one of ye," he continued to a group of " jowans," who were 
 sitting in the opposite chamber, '' take his blanket and dry it. Hast 
 thou eaten to-day, friend ? " 
 
70 TABA : 
 
 " Nothing but a bit of stale cake I bad in my waist-clotb," replied 
 the man ; " only that my teeth are strong, it wonld have broken 
 them. The ' poor man's ' bread in the Mutt at Kullianee is not 
 dainty food, and the flour was musty, O Patel ! " 
 
 " Take him away to the house, and let them feed him ; the women 
 will have something good, I dare say," replied the Patel. " Go and 
 see." 
 
 " And no one has passed since morning ? " 
 
 " Not a creature. It is not weather to send the dogs out ; and the 
 mud from Kulmus to Kinny and hitherwards will be hopeless. No, 
 he won't come to-day ; but go and eat, friend — go and eat." 
 
 "If I am wanted," said Lukshmun. 
 
 " Jee, jee ! Ay, ay ! I will not forget you. Go ! " 
 
 "What does he want out such a day as this ? " asked the Putwari. 
 " What has Pahar Singh in hand just now ? " 
 
 "What does it matter to us, Rao Sahib ?" returned the Patel; "all 
 we have to do is to keep his people in good humour, to save our cattle 
 from being harried, our stacks from being burned, and our people,'* 
 he added, looking round at the farmers and their wives, " from 
 being robbed when they come from market ? That is worth what we 
 pay him. Should we have got the crops oft that disputed land at 
 Chitli if he had not sent those spearmen ? " 
 
 " No, no ; do not interfere," said a chorus of farmers' voices, who, 
 in those unsettled times, might, unless their village were known to 
 be under the protection of some local chieftain, at any time have 
 their flocks and herds swept away by the people of a more power- 
 ful village, or by any of the independent gentry, or barons, as we 
 may call them, of the country. " What have we to do with state 
 affairs, or with Pahar Singh either ? " 
 
 So the assembly having voted non-interference with whatever 
 might be in hand, our friend Lukshmun was allowed to get his meal 
 in peace. Smoking — the impossibility of getting anything — and a 
 tight waistband, had kept appetite down as yet ; but with the Patel's 
 kitchen in prospect, it rose fiercely for the occasion as he approached 
 the house. 
 
 Lukshmun washed his feet and hands before he entered and sat 
 down. O, what a smell of fried onions there was ! and, as a girl set 
 before him a pile of hot, well-buttered jowaree cakes, a cup full of 
 " char," or pepper- water with tamarind in it, a fresh leaf full of a 
 savoury stew of vegetables of all kinds, and some clall or pease- 
 pudding, well-seasoned with red pepper and garlic, Lukshmun's 
 heart expanded, and he set to work with a good will. Every now 
 and then a woman at the fireplace asked him if he would have 
 more, and it was brought him from the pan, smoking hot. Lukshmun 
 dallied with each morsel as he ate ; and when even reduced by 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 71 
 
 repletion to licking his fingers, grudged tlie summons brought by 
 a man that he was to come. 
 
 " Conldst thou not give me a few cakes, sweet one, and some 
 dall ? " he said to the good-natured looking wench who had been 
 serving him. " I have a brother — hungry — all day in the rain — 
 while I have eaten. Thou art like the moon, O beauty, and thy 
 heart as soft as butter. Grive me the cakes for a poor, weak, hungry 
 brother." 
 
 " Was there ever such a tongue and such a face ? " retorted the 
 damsel, laughing. "Look, Rookmee ! " 
 
 The cook turned round and looked, too, laughing heartily ; for 
 Lukshmun's attitude on one leg, with the sole of the other foot 
 pressed against the calf of it, his hands joined and stretched out 
 imploringly, and his seared face twisted into a grotesque expres- 
 sion of supplication, was not to be resisted. 
 
 " Give him these cakes," said the cook, handing two to the girl. 
 
 " By your antelope eyes, O sweet ones, more ! " he said, not 
 altering his posture. " Do you think two would fill a hungry man's 
 belly ? By your lotos feet " 
 
 " There, begone ! " said the cook, handing him a few more and 
 some dall ; " there is a meal for a Rajah. Go, if the mistress 
 should hear you " 
 
 "I am gone, O my beauties," continued Lukshmun, folding the 
 cakes into his waist- cloth, and tying them behind, then washing his 
 hands elaborately. " You have made my heart " 
 
 "Come quickly, come," said a voice at the door; ''they want 
 thee. Wilt thou eat all day ? " 
 Ij " I worship you, lovely nymphs, even as Rama adored " 
 
 " Begone ! " cried both the girls in a breath. " Here is the mistress 
 coming, and if she hear such nonsense thou wilt be whipped." 
 
 " Here is the man who will be your worship's guide," said the 
 Patel deferentially to our friend the Lalla, who, having arrived 
 safely, was now divested of his upper clothing, which some of the 
 men were drying in the opposite chamber, and seated in the place 
 of honour of the assembly; "but your worship should eat before 
 you go on, and the Rao Sahib here will take you to his house — a 
 Brahmun's house," he added, as the Lalla appeared to hesitate. 
 
 " Ah, no, sir," returned the traveller, who indeed was very hungry, 
 " I could not eat without I bathed, and I had better wait till I get 
 to Allund. Shookr, shookr ! I should be too long about it, and my 
 horse has had his feed, and is ready to go on. And this is the guide ? 
 — not beautiful exactly." 
 
 " No, Maharaj, I am not beautiful, truly," replied Lukshmun, 
 with a deprecatory gesture to the Patel, " but I may be useful to 
 this noble gentleman. You may trust me, my lord. The Patel 
 
72 ^ TABA 
 
 knov/s me, and so do all these wortliy gentlemen ; and am I not 
 come for you ? " 
 
 " They expect me, then, good fellow," replied the Lalla, aninsed 
 by the man's broken Oordoo, and his grotesque expression of face. 
 
 " Ah, yes, noble sir," answered the man, joining his hands, " ever 
 since morning ; and as I was coming here on business I was told 
 to bring you on. And now let us proceed, else it will be night 
 ere we reach Allund; and," he added, with a wink to the Patel, 
 " it is not good to be out late on the roads." 
 
 "What, are they dangerous, then?" asked the Lalla, looking 
 anxiously around him. 
 
 "O no," cried Lukshmun, interposing readily; "there is no 
 trouble in the country, and my lord is armed, and so am I. O no, 
 only in regard to the mud and the stones. My lord will not find the 
 road long, for I can sing him Mahratta ' lownees ' if he likes." 
 ^ " There was a tree and a temple which I was told to avoid, and to 
 ask to be sent by the south road," said the Lalla, preparing to mount. 
 
 Lukshmun exchanged glances with the Patel and the Putwari. 
 " Could any one have warned the stranger ? " 
 
 " A tree ! " said the Patel, gravely. " What tree ? dost thou know 
 any, Lukshmun ? And the south road ? what road ? " 
 
 " O, I suppose the noble gentleman means that by l!^avindgee, 
 and HoshuUy, and Ohik- Won dully, and Hully Sullgarra," said 
 Lukshmun, rolling out a volley of hard Canarese village names. 
 " That road ? Why, it is six coss further from here ! They should 
 have sent him by it from Surroori. No," he continued, dropping 
 the Lalla's stirrup, which he had taken in his hand, "if the gentle- 
 man likes to go he can do so, of course, but his slave begs to be 
 excused ; " and he put his joined hands up to his nose. 
 
 " Yery good," said the Lalla, " I don't know ; only I was told " 
 
 " By whom ? " interrupted the Putwari. 
 
 " By Deo Bawa, the Byragee at Surroori.'^ 
 
 *' 0, the old Bawa ! said the Patel, laughing. " Curious, is it 
 not, noble sir, that the old man thinks that there are devils in the 
 tree ? He tells me he was bewitched there once, and I ought to 
 cut it down." 
 
 " And I told him I was not afraid of them, Patel ; but he said 
 there was something else," returned the Lalla. 
 
 " Robbers, I suppose," said Lukshmun, readily ; " Pahar Singh's 
 men, perhaps." 
 
 " Perhaps," added the Lalla, " but he did not say so." 
 
 " Well for him," thought the Putwari, " or his stacks would have 
 been burnt to-morrow night." 
 
 " Ah ! no fear of thieves when you have one of * the hunchbacks ' 
 with you," said Lukshmun. " Come, mount, my lord. Salaam, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 73 
 
 Maliaraj," lie continued, making a mock salutation to tlie sun, wHch 
 was just struggling through, a cloud. " Salaam ! thou hast been 
 moist to-day ; come out and dry thyself and us too. Now, noble 
 gentleman, mount, and you will see how fast the excellent dinner I 
 have eaten in the Patel's kitchen will take my feet to Allund, and 
 the good horse, too, looks as fresh as if he were but just starting," 
 and he patted him. " Ah, well done, sir ! " he continued, as the 
 Lalla mounted not ungracefully; ''we poor Dekhanies cannot com- 
 pare ourselves on horseback with you northern cavahers. Come, 
 sir, the road waits for us." 
 
 And with a salutation all round, the Lalla rode out of the gate, 
 and our friend Lukshmun, cutting a caper which showed his mar- 
 vellous activity by way, as he said, of getting the dinner out of his 
 legs, and calling to the guide who carried the bundle, they passed on 
 over the village common. 
 
 The Putwari sighed as the party left the gate. 
 
 " I tell thee, Seeta Ram," said the Patel, " he will come to no 
 harm, and he is gone away happy." 
 
 " I am glad he did not eat at my house ; it is not pleasant feed- 
 ing a man who has death in his throat," returned the Putwari. 
 
 " I tell thee he is safe," retorted the Patel ; " and if he is killed, it 
 is no affair of ours." 
 
 " No, it is no business of ours," said the Putwari, settling to his 
 accounts with a sigh which vexed the Patel. " No, it is no business 
 of ours," echoed the farmers. 
 
 At that time Rama, who was seated on the heap of stones, looking 
 from the top of the hill, exclaimed, as the three persons emerged 
 from a lane into a low field in which the road was distinctly visible, 
 
 " Jemadar ! he is coming at last, and Lukshmun is with him ; we 
 must be ready. Look, they are there ! " he continued, as Gopal 
 Singh joined him, " between the village and the stream." 
 
 "Ah, I see them, Rama, and thy brother is as true as gold. 
 We will join them as they go on ; he must not suspect us yet." 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Our friend the Lalla was soon at his ease with his new guide, whose 
 injunctions to Mo tee, bidding him " take care," " mind a stone," " lift 
 up his feet," and the like, encouraged the good beast, who now 
 stepped out briskly, while the curious mixture of Oordoo and 
 Mahratta, in which the small gossip and scandal of the neighbourhood 
 was told him by Lukshmun, amused him much. The mile or so 
 which intervened between the village and the temple was soon passed; 
 
74 TAEA : 
 
 and as they began to ascend the short rising ground towards the 
 temple and the tree, the latter could be seen in all its wild picturesque 
 detail, and was indeed a striking object. 
 
 The sun had now broken forth, and its beams shone slantingly 
 through its rugged trunks and gnarled branches, resting brightly 
 upon the glossy foliage sparkling with raindrops, and lighting up 
 every excrescence and furrow of the knotty bark, casting broad 
 shadows on the road below : while a slight parting shower, the large 
 drops of which flashed brightly in the air as they descended, 
 pattered upon the leaves, and spread out into the valley in a silver 
 rain. As the travellers gained the summit, the clear sky beyond to 
 the west not only caused the tree to stand out boldly and grandly 
 against it, but the brightness of the sun dispelled the gloomy 
 associations which the appearance of the place had suggested during 
 the rain. A slight breeze, which had hardly been felt in the hollow, 
 rippled the little pools on the roadway and on the plain beyond the 
 tree, which, level and stony, continued, apparently many miles, in the 
 direction they had to go. 
 
 Motee paused at the summit of the eminence, and the Lalla could 
 not help stopping him to look back upon the road by which he had 
 come. The bright yellow gleams of the sun shone broadly upon 
 the two villages, and upon the rich green masses of their corn-fields. 
 In the distance both looked pretty and comfortable : and their 
 terraced houses, several white temples, and the dome of a small 
 village mosque shone brightly in the sun. Behind these, and to the 
 south, the plain over which the Lalla had come stretched away for 
 many miles, showing the trees of a village here and there, with the 
 occasional sparkle of a white house or temple among them ; and 
 behind all, the great black cloud of the day's rain, upon which 
 there was a rainbow forming of great beauty, and against which a 
 flight of white sterks flashed like silver in the sun. Away to the 
 south, the eye followed hollow and rise, undulation after undulation, 
 till they were lost in a farther distance, which melted tenderly into 
 the sky. 
 
 " It is a fair country, friend, after all,'* said the Lalla, ^' though it 
 did not look well in the rain. That plain yonder is in the direction 
 of Beejapoor, perhaps ? " 
 
 " It is, sir," returned Lukshmun ; " that high land, near the sky 
 yonder, is beyond the Bheema river, and, if we were there, we 
 should see the tomb of the great Sultan Mahmood, now finished. It 
 is very grand, sir, and shines like silver when the sun is on it ; and 
 when I go there," continued the man, '* I stand like a fool, looking 
 at the King's palace, the Ark fort, the great gun, and the ' Ibrahim 
 Roza ' — that's the place where Ibrahim Adil Shah was buried, you 
 know, sir " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 75 
 
 " Numascar Maliaraj," cried a clear manly voice, now beside the 
 Lalla's horse, whicli appeared to him to rise out of the earth, for he 
 had not observed the approach of Gopal Singh and Rama from the 
 temple. 
 
 " Who are these ? " exclaimed the Lalla, starting and beginning to 
 tremble — " who are these ? " and the warning of the old Byragee now 
 came upon him, with the distressing conviction that he ought to 
 have regarded it ; but it was too late. " Who are ye ? " he asked 
 anxiously. 
 
 " O, this is my brother Rama," said Lukshmun, assuringly, " and 
 that is our Jemadar Gropal Singh ; they only waited here while I 
 went to Kinny." 
 
 " Be assured, noble sir," added the Jemadar, laughing, and in 
 good Oordoo, with a slight southern accent, which seemed to assure 
 the Lalla, " there is nothing to fear. Your worship is from Kul- 
 lianee, perhaps." 
 
 " Yes, from KuUianee yesterday." 
 
 " Ah, yes, I remember ; you were at Poorungeer's Mutt. I was 
 just about leaving when you arrived, and the old man offered you ' 
 escort of my party, but you preferred staying." 
 
 " I — I — I — had business," replied the Lalla, stammering, not 
 exactly rehshing Gropal Singh's bold looks, and yet unable to object 
 to him. " I was tired and needed rest, and you could not wait." 
 
 "You had come from the royal court, I think they said, and 
 were going to Beejapoor with letters for the King — proposals for 
 peace, perhaps." 
 
 " So they said — who ? " Of all things, the Lalla supposed his 
 destination and business were at least secret ; yet they appeared 
 known, and to a perfect stranger, too, by the wayside. He did not 
 feel able to reply, and was almost inclined to trust to Motee's speed, 
 and break through the men ; but Lukshmun, on receiving his 
 matchlock from his brother, fixed the match, which had been 
 hanging loose upon the cock, in a very precise manner, pressing the 
 trigger to see if the match descended upon the pan. The others, 
 too, looked carelessly to the priming of their guns, but to the 
 Lalla's idea ominously, and as if he should understand the action. 
 Lukshmun's face, too, appeared changed — it was not so pleasant as 
 it had been. 
 
 " Come," said the Jemadar, " we have far to go to-night — what 
 kept thee so long, Lukshmun ? " 
 
 " O, the Patel at Kinny said we were to escort this worthy 
 gentleman, as government orders had come about him from Allund ; 
 so I waited, as the rain had delayed him." 
 
 The Lalla felt reassured ; his arrival was no doubt expected. 
 " Ah, yes, sir," continued Gopal Singh, " you had better have come 
 
76 TABA 
 
 on with us three days ago, but it does not matter now. That is a 
 fine horse of yours/' he added, patting Motee's neck, ^' and from 
 Hindustan, I think, as my lord is. We, too — that is, my family — 
 are also from thence, Kanouj Khutrees ; so is this good gun, too ; " 
 and he held out his own. " Yes ; one can hit a man on horseback 
 at full speed half as far as to the stream yonder." 
 
 It appeared to the Lalla as if the Jemadar was reading his 
 thoughts as clearly as if he were telling them himself. 
 
 *' And if we were in battle," he continued, " and any one were 
 trying to get away from me, he would be shot between the shoulders 
 before he could even reach the tree yonder." 
 
 *'I — I — have no doubt of it. Jemadar Sahib," returned the Lalla, 
 — " no doubt : and your speech is pleasant to hear after the rough 
 language hereabouts." 
 
 " Come, come," cried Lukshmun, with seeming impatience, " if 
 you want to pay compliments, noble sir, wait till we get to the 
 end of our journey. Come ! " and as he spoke he touched Motee's 
 rein. " Come on, my son ! " he said, and the horse followed. 
 
 As they passed the little temple in its loneliness under the shadow 
 of the huge tree, it looked a place for evil deeds. A large horned 
 owl on the highest branch, now awakening for his evening flight, 
 hooted loudly above them, and was answered by another. It 
 seemed an evil omen, and struck to the Lalla's heart. 
 
 *' Ah ! we cannot pass you, my friend," said Gropal Singh. ^' Look, 
 Lalla Sahib, what my gun can do." 
 
 As he spoke, he raised the piece and fired. The aim was true and 
 deadly, and the huge bird fell down heavily close to Motee's feet 
 with a rushing sound, causing the horse to start back. 
 
 ^' I never miss," said the man, decidedly, and reloading his piece. 
 "Now come on." 
 
 " Shabash ! Well shot," said the Lalla ; but his heart was 
 throbbing fast, and it was a positive relief to him when the dark 
 grove was behind them, and they emerged upon the bare, wild, open 
 plain beyond. 
 
 "A lonely place that, Jemadar," remarked the Lalla, turning to 
 the man who walked behind him ; " and the old Byragee, where I 
 Blept, advised me not to go by it ; he said Pahar Singh's men might 
 be about. Who is this Pahar Singh ? " 
 
 " Pahar Singh ? " returned the Jemadar. " 0, a worthy gentleman 
 who is quiet enough when not plagued. He is the lord of the 
 marches hereabouts — a valiant man, and a good soldier ; and in 
 these troubled times, Lallajee, has his friends and his enemies, like 
 most of us : 'tis the way of the world." 
 
 After another mile, during which none of the party spoke, the 
 Jemadar proposed to the LaUa to dispense with the guide. " Even- 
 
AMAHRATTA TALE, 77 
 
 iug was drawing on," he said; "they knew the country, and the 
 contents of the bundle conld be carried on the saddle or divided 
 among them ; " and, indeed, it appeared necessary, as the guide, limp- 
 ing, declared he conld go no farther, and had a thorn in his foot. 
 The necessary arrangements were soon completed ; and, between 
 the Lalla's saddle-bags and his saddle, the contents of the bundle were 
 soon disposed of ; the guide received a small gratuity, and retraced 
 his steps at a far more rapid pace than he had advanced. 
 
 " He has no more a thorn in his foot than I have, Lalla Sahib," 
 said the Jemadar, laughing. " Look how he goes ! but Bheema 
 there is no worse than his fellows, and does not like the idea of a 
 night journey without change. Now we shall get on better. Let 
 the horse walk out, Lukshmun ; only keep by him." 
 
 Lukshmun let go the rein, but he did not leave his place, and though 
 the rate at which the horse now proceeded kept the men at a rapid 
 walk, and occasionally, indeed, at a trot, they preserved the positions 
 they had taken up without alteration, speaking little among them- 
 selves, except occasionally in Mahratta or Canarese, with both of 
 which languages they appeared familiar. 
 
 The sun was setting in great glory. After the heavy clouds had 
 passed away to the eastward, a clear blue sky succeeded for a while ; 
 but as a gentle breeze arose, it had brought up with it^ light, fleecy 
 vapours, which, as the wind again died away at sunset, became 
 motionless, and, gradually attracted to each other, formed piles of 
 white clouds edged with deep grey. As the sun declined, white 
 became orange and gold and crimson : while the sky itself, of an 
 intense purple above, faded into green, yellow, and rosy tints, on 
 which the golden clouds seemed to float in soft but brilliant masses : 
 and, as it dipped below the horizon, a flood of light suddenly shot 
 up, tinging the lower edges of all the lighter portions with vivid 
 scarlet, and mingling with the deep orange and purple hues above, 
 gorgeously. 
 
 *' The gods have a festival upon Mount Meru to-night, Lallajee. 
 Does the sun go down in that fashion in your country ? " said the 
 Jemadar, pointing to the sky and breaking a long silence. *' We 
 have made good work of it since the guide left us. Come, here is a 
 little stream, and you need a change of posture ; dismount and rest^ 
 while I oiffer my evening libations to the four elements." 
 
 " No, I will not dismount. Jemadar," returned the Lalla ; " you 
 will not be long, and^by all means let your men get a drink of water 
 too, and wash their feet. I will stay here." 
 
 " He is not to be trusted," said the Jemadar to his men in 
 Canarese ; " I see it in his eyes. If he stirs, shoot him, and both of 
 you stay by him." 
 
 Rama had fastened one of the horse's tether-ropes about his waist, 
 
78 TARA 
 
 and he now proceeded to tie the end of it to the cheek-strap of the 
 bridle in a methodical manner. 
 
 "What are you doing? " cried the Lalla, alarmed at the action; 
 "loose it!" 
 
 " O, my lord will dismount," said Lukshmun, " and who is to 
 hold the horse ? " 
 
 "I am not going to move : loose it, I say ! " cried the Lalla, im- 
 patiently. 
 
 But Rama sat down doggedly at a little distance, holding the 
 rope, and began deliberately to munch a cake his brother had un- 
 fastened from his back, resting his gun across his knees. 
 
 " Loose it ! " again cried the Lalla, " Jemadar, why have I been 
 tied like a thief ? " 
 
 The Jemadar had divested himself of his upper clothing and 
 stepped into the stream ; he was taking ^^up water in his hands and 
 pouring it to the four quarters of the earth. His clothes and arms 
 were on the river bank. 
 
 " There is no use in disturbing him, Maharaj," said Lukshmun, 
 quietly ; "he is at his prayers, and can't hear. My brother, you see, 
 doesn't understand you, and he only does what the Jemadar told 
 him; so get o:ff and walk about a little. Come, I will hold the 
 stirrup for you." 
 
 " 1^0 ; loose the rope ! " cried the Lalla again, eagerly, and reach- 
 ing over to do so himself. 
 
 "Ah, Maharaj ! you must not do that ; you see my brother will be 
 angry. I advise you to be quiet," said Lukshmun, putting back the 
 Lalla's hand, and pulling the knot of the rope firmer. 
 
 But the Lalla could not now contain himself; his alarm was 
 gradually increasing. He thought he could break away from the 
 men, and dash through the stream ere they could fire at him. 
 Touching Motee with the bridle and his heel at the same time, he 
 aroused him from the sluggish position he had assumed, and moved 
 him a little so as to face Bama, who still sat eating ; and the Lalla 
 was quietly gathering up the reins preparatory to urging the horse 
 forward, when the keen practised eyes of the men detected the in- 
 tention. Excited by his rider, the horse gathered himself on his 
 haunches and made a bound ; but Lukshmun, leaping at the bridle, 
 hung on to it, jerking it back so violently that the horse reared, while 
 the Lalla, whose right arm had been seized by Bama, lost his 
 balance, and fell heavily to the ground. 
 
 Hearing the cries of the men, Gopal Singh had run from the 
 stream hastily, taking up his sword, and reached the spot as the 
 Lalla fell. 
 
 " Get up ! " he cried, seizing his arm ; " what folly is this ? By 
 the gods, he has fainted I Thou hast not used thy knife, Bama ? " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 79 
 
 " Not I, Jemadar ; but lie fell heavily. What could I do ? Ho 
 would have been off, for the horse is a strong beast, and I could 
 hardly hold him — only for the old trick. Get some water. Jemadar, 
 he will drink from thee. I will hold him up. Stay, here is his lota.'* 
 While the Jemadar ran for water, Rama knelt down and raised 
 the Lalla's head, who now opened his eyes. " Speak to him, 
 Lukshmun ; tell him to get up and be quiet," said Rama to his 
 brother. 
 
 '* Do you hear, Maharaj ? you are to get up and be quiet. Rama 
 says so," cried Lukshmun, " and he is not a child." 
 
 ^'ISTor I, Lalla," said the Jemadar, returning with the water. '' By 
 Krishna, what made thee vex the hunchbacks ? they were likely to 
 be rough enough if provoked. Art thou hurt ? " 
 
 " No, my lord — that is, valiant sir — only a little," replied the Lalla, 
 moving his body about to ascertain the fact. " No ; but my Hfe ! — O 
 spare my life ! — do not kill me." 
 
 "I am more hurt than he is. Jemadar," said Rama, rubbing his 
 arm, "for he fell on me. Ah, you rascal! " he continued with a 
 Mahratta oath, " only for the Jemadar there I had settled accounts 
 with thee ; get up ! " 
 
 " I petition," said Lukshmun, who led up Motee, now calmed, " as 
 the Lalla broke faith with us, that he walks ; and Rama rides, as he 
 ^ishurt." 
 
 *' Ah, by your heads, no ! " exclaimed the Lalla ; " I never could 
 walk a coss in my life ; and my feet would never go over these stones 
 and briars. Kill me, if ye will, bat walk I cannot." 
 
 ''Tie him up," suggested Rama, "if he can't walk; we must not 
 trust him in the dark on that good horse." 
 
 "A good thought," said the Jemadar; "give me his sheet from 
 the saddle." 
 
 The Lalla guessed what had been said, and protested and resisted 
 vehemently ; but he was as a child in the hands of the men, and in 
 a few moments his hands and arms were swathed to his body gently 
 within the sheet, but so that he could not use them : and he was 
 raised to his feet, trembling violently, while the bandage was 
 fastened behind him. 
 
 " Ah, sir ! do not shake so," said Lukshmun, smiling, and joining 
 his own hands in mock supplication ; " if you do, you will go to pieces, 
 and there will be none of you left when we get to our uncle, Pahar 
 Singh." 
 
 Pahar Singh ! the Lalla's heart sank within him. But he had no 
 time for remonstrance. He was lifted like a child into the saddle, 
 the men resumed their arms and positions, and again set forward. 
 
 "Where are you going to take me. Jemadar? " asked the Lalla, 
 trembling, as they crossed the stream. " Ah, be merciful to " 
 
80 TAEA 
 
 " So you liave got speecli at last," returned Gopal Smgh. " Listen, 
 Lalla, if you had been quiet you should have ridden like a gentleman, 
 now you go as a thief. Pahar Singh, my uncle, 'is lord of these 
 marches, and knows what to do with you. One thing, however, I 
 may tell you; if you make any further attempt to escape, I will 
 shoot you. It is not your carcass that he wants, but what you have 
 on it ; the gold you got at Kullianee, Now, beware, for you know 
 the worst." 
 
 Of what use was resistance, and the Lalla clung to life. They 
 might take his gold. There remained, at least, the papers he pos- 
 sessed ; and if he begged his way on foot to Beejapoor, what matter, 
 so that he got there with them ? 
 
 So they proceeded as rapidly as the ground would admit, still 
 continuing to avoid all villages by paths through the fields, with 
 which they seemed perfectly acquainted. 
 
 Before they reach their destination, which they will do in two or 
 three hours more, we may describe the person to whom they are pro- 
 ceeding. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 As at the banian tree, when Lukshmun was guide, and the Lalla 
 had ridden up the rising ground, the sun had shone out brightly 
 with a broad gleam through its giant trunks and branches, and 
 over the villages and corn-fields beyond; so about the same time 
 the light, glittering through the watery particles which filled the air, 
 spread over a rich landscape, as viewed from a height above the 
 pretty village of Itga, whence, by a rough stony path, a company 
 of horsemen were now proceeding to the village itself. 
 
 There might have been twenty-five to thirty men, from the youth 
 yet unbearded to the grizzled trooper, whose swarthy sunburnt face, 
 and large whiskers and moustaches touched with grey, wiry frame, 
 and easy lounging seat on his saddle — as he balanced his heavy 
 Mahratta spear across his shoulders — showed the years of service 
 he had done. There was no richness of costume among the party ; 
 on the contrary, the dresses were worn and weather-stained, and of 
 a motley character. Some wore thickly quilted white or chintz 
 doublets, strong enough to turn a sword-cut ; or ordinary white 
 cotton clothes, with back and breast pieces of thick padded cloth, 
 or light shirts of chain-mail, with a piece of the same, or twisted 
 wire, folded into their turbans ; and a few wore steel morions, with 
 turbans tied round them, and steel gauntlets which reached to the 
 elbows, inlaid with gold and silver in delicate arabesque patterns. 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 81 
 
 The caparisons of their horses were as shabby as the dresses ; but 
 some had once been handsome, with embroidered reins and cruppers, 
 and gaj musUn martingals. All were now, however, soiled by the 
 wet and mud of the day. It was clear that this party had ridden 
 far, and the horses, though excellent and in high condition, were, 
 from their drooping crests and sluggish action, evidently weary. 
 Four of the men had been wounded in some skirmish, for it was 
 with difficulty they sat their horses : and the bandages about them, 
 covered with blood, showed the wounds to have been severe. But 
 the sight of the village appeared to have revived the party ; the 
 horses were neighing and tossing their heads, and the men, shifting 
 their places in the saddles, pointed eagerly to it, or, brandishing 
 their spears, shouted one to another, cheering up the wounded men. 
 
 Among these horsemen, as also over the valley below, the sun's 
 gleams shone brightly, casting long irregular shadows over the 
 ground as they moved, and, glinting from spear-head, morion, and 
 steel armour as the men swayed in their saddles, lighted up faces of 
 varied character, all now joyous, but wearing an expression of 
 habitual recklessness and lawless excitement. 
 
 Below them, at less than half a mile's distance, was the village 
 itself. In the centre of it, or rather more to the right hand, was 
 a high square castle, with round bastions at the corners, having 
 loopholed parapets, which, where it had not been wetted by the 
 rain, was of a warm grey, the colour of the mud or clay of which 
 it had been built. It was in perfect repair, and the close smooth 
 plastering of the walls and parapets showed that the weather was 
 not allowed to injure it. 
 
 Inside the castle walls were the white terraced roofs of a dwelling- 
 house, and in the bastions in the east and north comers several 
 windows and other perforations in the curtain walls, which showed 
 that rooms were connected with them ; but it was clear, from the 
 height of the parapets above the ground, which might be sixty feet, 
 that most of the inside must be a solid mass of earth, as indeed 
 it was as far as the courtyard, around which were the houses 
 already noticed. On cne high bastion, in which several small 
 cannon were placed, was a flag-staff, and a large white flag, bordered 
 with green, which floated out lazily upon the evening breeze, 
 showing the device — a figure cut out in red cloth and sewn upon 
 the white — of the monkey god Hunooman, who might be supposed 
 to be, as he was, the tutelary divinity of the castle. 
 
 To protect the gateway there was a double outwork with several 
 narrow traverses and large flanking bastions, but otherwise no 
 additional defence to the castle walls, which were quite inaccessible. 
 Around their foot, separated only by an open courtyard, surrounded 
 by a low wall with bastions at intervals, were the terraced houses 
 
82 TAEA : 
 
 of tlie place, tliickly placed togetlier, and filling up the space 
 between the outer wall of the village and the castle itself. There 
 was no doubt that the community living there was thriving, and 
 better protected than those of the more open villages of the country. 
 The houses, too, were of a superior and more substantial character, 
 and gave assurance of habitual safety and wealth. 
 
 Outside all, ran a high wall, also of mud, with large round 
 bastions at intervals, loopholed and mounted with jinjalls, and 
 other wall-pieces, with two large gates, each defended by an 
 outer work and traverse, and heavy bastions on each side; and 
 there were several smaller wickets or posterns, each with a parapet 
 wall before, and a tower beside it. The whole formed a very strong 
 position, impregnable against any attack by marauding horse ; and 
 even in the event of a siege by a better organized force, it could 
 have held out stoutly. 
 
 The ground for some distance round Itga formed a c]ear natural 
 esplanade, over which it was impossible for anything to advance 
 without being seen from the castle walls. This was now like a 
 carpet of emerald green, on which fell the broad shadows of the 
 tall trees near the gates and a grove round a small Hindu temple, 
 and several large herds of cattle rested or browsed before entering 
 the village walls for the night. Beyond the open ground the 
 irrigated fields and gardens of the village commenced ; and the 
 bright yellow green of the sugar-cane, in large patches, catching 
 the sun's rays, glowed among the darker colours of the grain crops 
 and cotton, which spread up and down the valley as far as could 
 be seen, and on both sides of the stream flowing in the centre. 
 
 Above the village the valley appeared to contract gradually, and 
 the stream to disappear behind a projecting bluff. Below, it opened 
 out considerably ; and could be seen for several miles, showing 
 other villages in the distance, with their ghurries, or castles, of the 
 same character as that of Itga, but smaller, rising above the trees ; 
 while, here and there, the white dome of a mosque, or steeple of 
 Hindu temple, with portions of the stream, sparkled in the evening 
 sun. 
 
 A fair scene now when, over the rich crops and gardens, and 
 spreading over the tender distance, the bright evening light threw 
 a mellow radiance, resting with brilliant effect upon the projections 
 and bastions of the castle, upon the terraces of the houses, the 
 heavy gateways, the people passing to and fro, and the bright- 
 coloured cattle upon the village green. A fair scene, truly, and in 
 strong contrast with the character of the place, which, to say the 
 trath, was evil enough in some respects. 
 
 The owner of this village, and of several adjoining villages, was 
 the Pahar Singh, whom, casually, we have already had occasion to 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 83 
 
 mention. ISTominally a frontier officer of the Beejapoor State, 
 " Hazaree," or commander of a thousand men, and holding the 
 estate in maintenance of a troop of horse and a number of foot 
 soldiers, which, though somewhat less, passed for a thousand in the 
 royal musters of Beejapoor, — Pahar Singh had bj no means 
 followed his father's example of steady devotion to his duty, or 
 confined his men to the purpose for which they were intended. 
 During his father's lifetime he had engaged with the most dissolute 
 and lawless of his father's retainers in border raids and forays 
 without number, and had not unfrequently defied the troops of the 
 State, bringing his father's good name into very questionable repute. 
 
 After the old man's death, wilder times ensued, when a bold 
 stroke, here and there, decided a man's fortune ; and proportionately 
 as he was powerful or otherwise locally, his influence, both at court 
 and in the provinces, extended. Pahar Singh had struck many 
 such, with which, however, we have no concern. Following the 
 example of the Beydur chief of Sugger, he had imposed a system 
 of black-mail all over the frontier near his estate, which, if not 
 regularly paid, was enforced roughly enough; while, on his part, 
 his clients were protected from violence by other parties. The 
 system, in fact, extended to the capital itself, and merchants and 
 rich travellers paid Pahar Singh's dues as the best means of escaping 
 outrage if they had to travel across his marches. 
 
 To others but his own people, Pahar Singh was a merciless 
 savage, for the most part ; and even his own relations, and those 
 who knew him best, could hardly account for the variation of 
 temper which could watch torture for the extortion of money — 
 perhaps an agonized death — at one moment, and at the next listen 
 to a tale of distress, or need, or sickness, and relieve it himself, or 
 send it to his wife Rookminee, with a message which insured 
 prompt attention from that kind lady. 
 
 It is perhaps unnecessary to go far back into history for illustra- 
 tions of character like that of "the Hazaree." Such still exists 
 among the native states of India, and even among our own subjects, 
 restrained by the power of the paramount Government, if not by 
 the spirit of the times — but still restrained — from lives as reckless 
 and lawless, from savagery as deep and as unrelenting, as was that of 
 Pahar Singh. With such characters, evil passions have taken the 
 form of sensuality in its varied phases, which, as mostly concerning 
 the individual himself, blunts the exercise of all finer feelings, but 
 does not occasion the misery to others which would be the result of 
 unfettered and misguided action. 
 
 The party we have mentioned had descended the small pass from 
 the table-land above, and had pressed merrily on to the village gate, 
 where they were met by friends, and welcomed by many a rough 
 
84 TABA : 
 
 but kind greeting, and by a discbarge of wall-pieces from tbe 
 bastions, and sbots from tbe castle, answered by tbe matchlocks 
 of the party. Having entered the deep arched gateway, they were 
 now emerging irregnlarly from its shadow into the main street, 
 down which the sun streamed brightly. The terraced houses were 
 covered with women and children waving cloths, or whatever they 
 could catch up. The shopkeepers, for the most part, descended 
 from their seats and exchanged respectful greetings with the leader ; 
 and as the small troop passed up towards the open space below the 
 castle, still firing shots, it was plain that every one had forgotten the. 
 fatigue of the march in his safe return. 
 
 The horsemen remained mounted after the halt, and several stout 
 serving-men took the heavy bags of money which each in succession 
 loosed from his saddlebow, and carried them into the castle. This 
 done, the leader dismounted, and the chief " Karkoon," or scribe, 
 delivered a short but pleasant message from the chief, and dismissed 
 the rest ; and the men, wheeling round, discharged an irregular 
 volley from their matchlocks, and, passing back round the foot of 
 the outer bastion of the court, separated, each to his own house. 
 
 " He will not delay you long," said Amrut E-ao, the Hazaree's 
 chief Karkoon, or scribe, to the leader ; " but you are not to go, he 
 says, without seeing him." 
 
 " What temper is he in ? " asked the person addressed. 
 
 " 'Not good — but no fear for you. He is angry at Gropal Singh's 
 absence, that is all ; so be careful, Maun Singh, and do not cross 
 him to-day. Come, he has looked for you these many hours." 
 
 Maun Singh, an active, intelligent man, with a bright soldierly 
 bearing, was a cousin of the chief, and a valuable and trusty leader 
 of partisan expeditions. This foray had been remarkable for its suc- 
 cess. A convoy of treasure, belonging to the neighbouring kingdom 
 of Golconda, had been attacked on its way to the capital, its escort 
 defeated, and the money for the most part secured and brought in. 
 The largest portion of the force was returning by a different road ; 
 this, consisting of picked men and horses, had pressed on home with 
 the booty. 
 
 Maun Singh entered the gate with his companions, and ascended 
 an inclined plane leading to a court above, which, the outer one of 
 the interior of the castle, was that to which men were alone allowed 
 access. On two sides were open verandahs, consisting of double 
 rows of wooden arches, supported upon carved pillars, the floor of 
 the inner one being raised a little above that of the outer. On the 
 east side, a large chamber of some pretension, ended in an oriel 
 window, fitted with delicately carved shutters, which admitted light 
 and air. This chamber was three arches in depth, and the wood- 
 work of the pillars was carved in bold designs of flowers and leaves. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 85 
 
 the ends of the beams being fancifully cut into dragons' heads, the 
 lines of which were carried gracefully into the general patterns of 
 flowers and leaves. This was the chamber, or hall, of audience. 
 
 On the fourth side of the court was a stable, and a door which led 
 to servants' rooms and offices, and there were folding-doors in the 
 verandahs on both sides communicating with women's apartments, 
 and stairs leading to the roofs of the buildings which formed the 
 parapets for defence of the castle. 
 
 As he entered the court. Maun Singh greeted, and was saluted in 
 ^turn by, those around ; and a party of scribes, engaged in accounts 
 at the entrance of the hall, rose at his approach. Passing these, he 
 went on to his relative, who was sitting reclined against a large 
 pillow in a recess of the window, and who half rose as he returned 
 his salutation, but not courteously. 
 
 Pahar Singh was always remarkable — no one could look on him 
 unmoved. He had a strong-featured hard face, prominent aquiline 
 nose, deep-set black eyes, not so large, as penetrating in character, 
 and covered by bushy eyelashes. The eyes were restless and un- 
 settled in character, and, by this, and the general expression of his 
 countenance, he was nicknamed the falcon. None of the hair on 
 his face was shaved, and the whole was tied up in a knot and wound 
 round his head in a thick heavy mass, while the thin grey and 
 sandy- coloured beard and moustaches, divided in the centre, were 
 usually passed over each ear, but could, if he pleased, be worn flow- 
 ing down to the waist. The forehead was high and covered with 
 deep wrinkles, and upon it the veins from the root of the nose stood 
 out roughly and with a knotted appearance, apparently the result of 
 habitual excitement. The mouth had hard cruel lines about it, and 
 the sinewy throat tended to increase the rugged character of the 
 whole countenance. 
 
 In age he appeared past forty. Naked to the waist, his figure was 
 wiry, and showed great power, particularly in his arms. Pahar 
 Singh's strength was proverbial in the country ; and the large exer- 
 cising clubs, standing in a corner, which he used several times during 
 the day, could be wielded by none but himself. 
 
 " I received your letter. Maun Singh," he said, before that person 
 was seated. " Why did you delay ? Why did you let that boy 
 leave you ? By Grunga, if the boy dies, or comes to hurt, your life 
 shall answer for it." 
 
 " Pahar Singh," replied the other, who always addressed his 
 cousin by name if he were angry, and who had less fear of him than 
 any one else, " 1 have done good work. There are more than 
 twenty thousand rupees yonder, and I have only lost one man." 
 
 " True, true, brother," cried the chief, waving his hand ; " there is 
 no blame for that, only for the boy. What took him to KuUianee ? '* 
 
8G TABA : 
 
 " I sent him to Poorungeer, the banker, with the bills, to see if 
 any were negotiable. There he heard of something ; and when all 
 was qniet at Mnntalla, he departed at night without mj knowledge. 
 He only left word that he had gone after some good business, and 
 was not to be followed." 
 
 " Wrong, Mann Singh. Thou wert wrong not to watch him — not 
 to send men after him. If he dies, O Maun Singh, O brother, it 
 were better thou wert never born ! " and the chief smote his pilloAV 
 angrily with his clenched fist. 
 
 " His fate is not in my hand, Pahar Singh," retorted the other ; 
 " and " 
 
 " Do you answer me ? do you answer me ? " cried the chief, 
 savagely grasping the pillow^, the veins of his forehead swelling and 
 his nostrils dilating as he spoke. 
 
 Amrut Rao knew the sign, and interposed. " Is this money to be 
 counted ? " he said, pointing to the bags ; "if so, give me the key of 
 the treasury, and let the Jemadar go home. He is tired, and you 
 will like to see the coin. It shall be counted before you." 
 
 " Grood ! Go, Maun Singh. I shall be quieter when you return," 
 replied the chief. " Ah, yes ! we were once the same,' brother. We 
 could not be stopped either," he said more gently, " if we had any- 
 thing to do." 
 
 " The hunchbacks are with him, and they are all on foot, brother," 
 returned Maun Singh : " fear not ; but if thou art restless, give me 
 some fresh men and a fresh horse, and we will ride round the vil- 
 lages." 
 
 *' No ; go home — go home. No ; let him hunt his own game," 
 returned the chief. 
 
 " But about the money ? Deo Rao wants to get home now, for he 
 is starving," interposed the Karkoon. 
 
 " Let him go then ! " exclaimed the chief tartly. 
 
 " No, he can't go till it is counted," retorted Amrut Rao. 
 
 "It need not be counted." 
 
 " It must be counted, Maharaj ! If there is a rupee wrong wc 
 shall never hear the last of it. The bags have never been opened — 
 who knows what is in them ? " 
 
 " It may be gold, Amrut Rao. Come, who knows ? yes, who 
 knows ? Come," exclaimed Pahar Singh excitedly. 
 
 Few could take the liberties in speech with the chief that were 
 permitted to Amrut Rao, and even he was not always successful ; 
 but now the Suraffs, or money-changers, sent for had arrived, and 
 Pahar Singh watched the opening of every bag with an almost 
 childish curiosity. All anxiety for his nephew had departed before 
 the sight of money. Yet Gopal Singh was the life and stay of the 
 house ; precious as Pahar Singh's heir, and more so as the husband 
 of his daughter, who was as yet a child. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 87 
 
 " Grood coin, good coin ! " cried tlie cliief exultinglj, as the con- 
 tents of the bags passed through the experienced hands of the 
 examiners without one being rejected. "^Good coin! O Amrut 
 Rao, I vow all the light weights to f eed' Brahmnns. Dost thou 
 hear ? '' 
 
 " I am afraid their bellies will be empty enough," returned the 
 Karkoon, laughing. " N'o, Maharaj ! do better : send ^yq hundred 
 to Yyas Shastree to offer at the shrine of Sri Mata if Gopal Singh 
 returns safe to-night. You cannot disappoint her and be secure." 
 
 " Well spoken ! well spoken ! Yes, put the money aside ; yes, 
 put all the light-weight coin and make it up ; thou shalt have it — 
 if; — he comes. Holy Gunga ! what is that ? " he exclaimed, sud- 
 denly, as a separate bag rolled out of one then being emptied- 
 " Gold, by all the gods ! Give it me ; I will count it myself." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 We must, however, return to our travellers, whose progress since 
 night set in had been anything but agreeable, considering the state 
 of the road ; for though the light-footed men traversed it easily, 
 poor Motee, weary enough, stopped fairly where the mud was 
 deepest, and quivered in every limb in the intervals of stony 
 ground. Indeed, he would have given up long ago but for Luksh- 
 mun, whose cheery voice and hand, now soothing, now encouraging, 
 now remonstrating, urged him to put forth his whole power ; and 
 as if the promises of a good stable, the sweetest fodder, the best 
 grain, which were repeated with every endearing variation that 
 Mahratta and Canarese, oddly intermixed with scraps of Oordoo 
 ballads, could supply, seemed to be understood by the gallant beast 
 as he toiled on. His master, since he had been swathed up in the 
 sheet, and had found it impossible to help himself, had fallen into 
 what might be called a passive frame of mind. No thing was clear 
 to him, neither where he was, nor with whom or where he was 
 going. 
 
 As before, villages were avoided, and it was evident that his 
 guides knew the country perfectly — threading lanes, then emerging 
 into open fields, again crossing waste ground, but still preserving, as 
 nearly as possible, the same direction, as the Lalla could see by the 
 moon which, struggling through masses of watery clouds that had 
 risen since sunset, threw a misty and indistinct light upon the path 
 and what lay in its immediate vicinity. Now and then they ap- 
 proached so near a village that the watch- dogs within its walls 
 bayed and howled, and they could hear the hum of voices, or see 
 
S8 TARA : 
 
 lights high. Tip in the ghurrj, or the watch-towers at the gates ; but 
 they did not stop. All the Lalla asked occasionally was, " How far 
 yet ? " and received but one answer — " Coss bur." The trees of 
 village after village, and the dark square forms of their ghurries, or 
 castles, stood out against the moon in succession, and each one he 
 hoped might be the last ; but still they went on, through the same 
 apparently endless succession of muddy lanes, and over open fields 
 and waste lands, — faster if the ground were firm, slower if it were 
 muddy. 
 
 Finding it of no use to speak to his companions, the Lalla's mind 
 reverted naturally to his own condition, and was as busy now, 
 though after a more dreamy fashion, than in the morning, when 
 riches and honours seemed within his grasp. For after some mis- 
 givings he had argued himself into a belief of a positively agreeable 
 reception by Pahar Singh. He would not at once admit his errand 
 to the Beejapoor court, but reserve it for a confidential communica- 
 tion ; and he would be able to tell Pahar Singh about their own 
 country. Yes — the Lalla had framed, and was framing, many irre- 
 sistibly polite speeches in his mind, recalling verses to quote from 
 Persian poets, and the replies to his remarks would necessarily be in 
 a similar strain. What else could be expected of one of his own 
 countrymen ? and he would make allowances for some omissions in 
 strict etiquette and courtesy. Then what excellent cookery he 
 should enjoy— what luxurious rest ! 
 
 Alas ! these were but the delusions of hunger, thirst, and weari- 
 ness, and were but shortlived ; for in their place would suddenly 
 arise a ghastly anticipation of violence — a dungeon and chains — 
 ending in a lingering or sudden death. Or, again, the loss of all 
 his papers and his money — both as yet safe. Or, perhaps, of being 
 again taken to the royal camp, and sold to the Emperor, a hasty 
 doom following — an elephant's foot, or that executioner, always 
 present, whom he so well remembered. 
 
 There was no denying that such thoughts would recur more 
 vividly than the others, causing the Lalla to w^rithe in his bonds, 
 and to break out into a cold sweat from head to foot, in, as it were, 
 the very bitterness of death. This past, he would sink once more 
 into apathy and weariness, while Motee groaned, trudged, and 
 splashed, or Lukshmun cheered or warned him ; and the two 
 others, in their old places, their lighted matches glowing in the 
 darkness, never varied in position or in pace. 
 
 It might have been the close of the first watch of the night, 
 perhaps more, when the Lalla became sensible of a change in the 
 demeanour of the men. They talked more among themselves, and 
 laughed heartily. Gopal Singh even told him to be of good heart. 
 The road, too, was more open and less muddy. Before him was a 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 89 
 
 rising ground, and upon it a tree distinctly visible against tlie moon, 
 to wliich they pointed, and stepped out at a better pace. As tbey 
 neared the tree they halted for a moment, shook out their dresses, 
 resettled their turbans, and rubbed up their moustaches. Yes, they 
 were most likely near the end of their journey, but the Lalla dare 
 not ask ; his tongue was cleaving to his mouth with that peculiarly 
 exhaustive thirst which is the effect of weariness and terror com- 
 bined ; and when all three men blew their matches, and shook fresh 
 priming into the pans of their guns, the Lalla shut his eyes and ex- 
 pected death. 
 
 " Come, Lallajee," said Gopal Singh, in a cheery voice, " don't go 
 to sleep, good man, we are near home now ; no more ' coss burs,' you 
 know. Ah, by-and-by, you will know what a Canarese coss is. 
 Mind the horse as we go downhill," he continued to Lukshmun. 
 " I must have that beast ; he has done his work right well to-day." 
 
 Almost as the last word was spoken, they reached the brow of 
 the ascent, and looked down upon Itga from the place we have 
 already described. It appeared gloomy enough to the Lalla. The 
 castle, or ghurry, stood out, a black mass, against the setting moon, 
 and the men and horses were barely distinguishable in the faint 
 light, while the towers at the gate, and round the outer walls, 
 seemed to be exaggerated in height and dimensions. From the win- 
 dow over the castle gateway, a light twinkled brightly in the dark 
 mass of the walls, and there was one also on a bastion of the gate, 
 and a few here and there in the village. Around the fields and 
 trees were in the deepest gloom, the upper portion of the trees, where 
 the moon's rays caught the topmost branches only, being visible, 
 and a sparkle here and there in the little river, as it brawled over 
 the rocks and stones in its bed, its hoarse murmur being distinctly 
 audible as though it were in flood. 
 
 '' Cheer up, Lallajee ! be comforted ; our master never keeps 
 any one in suspense very long," remarked Lukshmun pleasantly. 
 " When he says ch-ck, ch-ck, as I do to Motee here, we know exactly 
 what to do." 
 
 "Be quiet, for a prating fool, as thou art ! " cried Gopal Singh, 
 " and look after the horse. I would not have his knees broken for a 
 thousand rupees. Sit square, Lalla ! lean back, good man, and 
 ease him as you go down. Do not be afraid." 
 
 But for this assurance the Lalla had fainted. " Ah, Jemadar," 
 he exclaimed, " by your mother, I am too poor to notice — a stranger 
 in a strange land. I trust to you — pity m.e and be merciful, for the 
 sake of my children." 
 
 " Bichara ! poor fellow, he has children — so have I," interrupted 
 Lukshmun ; " and that makes it worse sometimes." 
 
 " Be silent, as you love your life," said the Jemadar, firing a shot 
 
90 TAJRA : 
 
 over the Lalla's head, which caused him to start violently, and was 
 followed hj another each from the two men in succession ; " be 
 silent, and mind your seat downhill. If Maun Singh has not 
 arrived," he continued to the men, " there will have "been trouble 
 enough by this time. ' 
 
 " They have passed not long ago, Jemadar," said Rama ; " look, 
 here are the horses' footprints." 
 
 " That is good; and they see us now," continued Gopal Singh. 
 
 As he spoke, a vivid white flash, from the highest bastion turret 
 of the castle, increased in brightness, as a large Bengal light was 
 burned for an answering signal. The attitude of the signal-man, as 
 he held an iron cresset high above his head, could be distinctly 
 seen ; and while the dazzling blaze continued, castle, and town, and 
 village — even the open ground beyond, and the trees and temple 
 upon it — were revealed in silvery brilliance. Then, as the first died 
 out, another light took its place, and burned out, leaving the gloom 
 more intense than before. Under any other circumstances, the 
 effect would have been as surprising to the Lalla as it was really 
 beautiful, but, under the circumstances, the sudden apparition of 
 the castle, with its defences and outworks, struck an additional 
 chill to his heart, and as the last gleam of the bright light went out^ 
 it seemed a type of the extinguishing of his own hopes. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Pahar Singh had been long watching from the window we have 
 before mentioned. There were three descents from the plain above 
 to the village, all within his view ; and there were men on each of 
 the bastions also, watching in all directions. He was very restless 
 and moody ; not even the gold found in several bags which he had 
 taken to his private apartments — not even the large amount of 
 booty, which had so few light coins in it — could dispel the gloom. 
 He had ordered all about him to be silent, and even Amrut Rao 
 had obeyed him as yet ; and his little daughter, who was allowed 
 to sit in the hall when no strangers were present, had nestled to his 
 side, but was afraid to speak. 
 
 Amrut Rao knew, however, by experience, that the more his 
 master was allowed to brood over anything in this manner, the 
 harder it was to rally him ; and as the account of the money had 
 been made up, he took the paper, trimmed the lamp, and stood in 
 an attitude to read, unchecked by the actual distortion of the 
 chief's face in a repressed fury, at which even his daughter con- 
 cealed herself, and cowered into a corner, and which soon broke 
 out in violent oaths and abuse. 
 
A MA HEAT T A TALE. 91 
 
 Amrut Kao bent to tlie storm, and did not reply. After an 
 interval lie read slowly : — 
 
 " Twenty-seven thousand two hundred and ninety- three rupees ; 
 and the five bags of ashruffees which you took inside — ^how many 
 were in them ? " 
 
 " What is that to you ? do you want to steal them ? By the 
 gods ! you are over- familiar to-night, Amrut Rao. Did I not bid 
 ye all be silent, and dare you disobey ? you — dare you ? " cried 
 the chief, raising himself, while the foam gathered upon his lips, 
 and the veins swelled on his forehead. " Dare you ? " 
 
 "My lord," replied Amrut Eao, joining his hands, "abuse of a 
 Brahmun, out of a noble mouth, is sin — unfitting to hear. Be 
 reasonable. This is the best booty which we have seen for many 
 a day. . If we knew the total of the ashruffees we could add it, 
 and you could sign the day-book, and clear away all the bags. It 
 is getting late." 
 
 "Let it be. No, 1 will not sign the paper," cried Pahar Singh, 
 petulantly. " What need have I with wealth ? he will not come 
 now. I will go to Kasee, Jugunath, and Rameshwur ; I will give 
 up the world ; I have committed much sin, and will have no more 
 
 of it. I will Ha, by the gods ! there is a shot on the road," 
 
 he continued, as the sharp ring of Gropal Singh's matchlock broke 
 the silence without: "another, and another! and a horse's neigh, 
 too ; and there were but the three. Can it be they. Maun Singh ? 
 speak ! by your soul, speak : why are you silent ? " 
 
 " Let the cloud pass from your spirit, brother : it is they, sure 
 enough. I would swear to Gopal's gun by its ring anywhere." 
 
 " Burn a light from the upper bastion — two ! it may cheer them 
 down the pass. Quick ! " cried the chief ; " answer their signal. 
 
 Maun Singh ! if I said anything bad, forgive me, brother ; but 
 
 1 was distraught with care for that boy. Yes, they will see that," 
 as the first blue light glittered over the village. " Bum another, 
 Banoba — a large one ! " he called from the window to the men 
 above ; " we may even see them. By the gods ! yes, Maun Singh, 
 there they are : the three, and a man on horseback muffled up — a 
 large grey horse — who can it be ? Gret hot water ready, and enough 
 for all to eat. Bring a goat to kill before him. Tell thy mother, 
 O daughter, to see to this ; tell her they are come. How many short 
 rupees were there, Amrut Bao ? " 
 
 " My lord, it was as I said : the Brahmuns' bellies would be 
 empty if we trusted to short rupees ; all we could find were nine 
 doubtful ones." 
 
 " Then, count out fifty more — stay, a hundred : will that feed 
 them ? " 
 
 "You have not told me how much gold there was, Maharaj," 
 continued the Karkoon pertinaciously, not noticing the gift. 
 
92 TABA : 
 
 "Now, a plague on thee for an obstinate fool, Amrut Rao," re- 
 plied the chief, laughing ; " did I not tell thee not to speak about 
 it?" 
 
 " The total of the silver is twenty-seven thousand two hundred 
 and ninety- three rupees," returned the Karkoon ; " and the gold 
 must be added to complete the account before we retire." 
 
 " Well, then, there were five bags, and fifty Akburi mohurs in 
 each : will that content you ? or must you see them ? " 
 
 " Why couldn't you tell me this at first ? " continued Amrut Rao, 
 writing in the account, which he spread on his left hand; "there, 
 at twenty rupees each, another five thousand, that makes thirty-two 
 thousand two hundred and ninety- three rupees. My lord ordered 
 fifty rupees for the dole to-morrow ; it might as well be the odd 
 ninety- three." 
 
 " Ay, take that, and the two hundred over to boot, good fellow, 
 if thou wilt. Here, some of you, stop him, stop my son, and kill 
 a goat before him at the gate ; see that lights are waved over him, 
 and the evil eye is taken off him. Quick ! there are the torches 
 flashing in the bazar." 
 
 " I have deducted the sum, Maharaj," said the Karkoon de- 
 liberately ; " now look at the total, and put your seal to it. Thirty- 
 two thou " 
 
 "By Krishna! thou wouldst leave me no peace, Amrut Rao," 
 replied the chief ; " here is the seal ; seal the memorandum, and 
 begone. Yet stay ; thou art a good fellow after all ; so take a 
 handsome doopatta, or a pair of dhotees, out of that coin for thyself." 
 
 " Not out of the Brahmuns' belhes," retorted the Karkoon ; 
 " thank you. I shall have plenty of gifts by-and-by. Here is your 
 seal." 
 
 The chief might have answered angrily, had his attention not 
 been diverted at the moment. "Ah, here they are," he cried, 
 looking from the window ; " they have brought the man's horse up 
 to the steps, and are taking him off — bound, too ! Ai Purmeshwar ! 
 but there must be much to hear. Why do they delay ? " 
 
 In truth they had not delayed ; for several torch-bearers, stationed 
 at the gate, hearing the shots on the hill, had run forward in the 
 direction of the pass, while the retainers and others from the 
 bazar, crowded up to bid the young man welcome ; for the anxiety 
 in the castle had spread over the village. So Gopal Singh and 
 his party entered the gates among many eager faces, lighted up 
 by torches tossing above them, and were welcomed by noisy shouts 
 as the men clustered round them. Then a bevy of village women 
 awaited them, some bearing brass dishes filled with mustard-seed, 
 and small lighted lamps, which were waved over him ; others with 
 jars of water, which were poured out before him ; and, as othei'S 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 93 
 
 joined them, there was quite a procession up , to the end of the 
 second traverse. 
 
 Farther on, at the gate of the castle, stood a body of the house- 
 hold servants and retainers, one having a naked sword, and a goat 
 before him bleating londly. As Gopal Singh advanced, the sword 
 flashed in the air, and the headless carcase struggled convulsively 
 as the blood spouted over the sill and step, and trickled down 
 towards the Lalla, who, lifted from his horse, shuddered as he was 
 set down among it. 
 
 Again the ceremony of having lights waved over him by some of 
 the women-servants was repeated; and Gropal Singh, bidding 
 Lukshmun and the others search the Lalla carefully and keep what 
 was found, ascended to the court, and was met in a warm embrace 
 by his uncle, and led to the window, where, being seated, all present, 
 including Maun Singh, advanced to salute him in turn. 
 
 /' What did I say, brother ? '^ cried Maun Singh joyfully. " I 
 knew he would not disappoint us. Yet thou shouldst not have gone 
 alone, Gopal." 
 
 " Nay, but I had the hunchbacks with me, and more would have 
 spoiled my small hunt, which, if not so grand as thine, uncle, may 
 yet be important," replied the young man. 
 
 " Ah, the boy, the boy ! " exclaimed the chief, stroking the young 
 man's face, and kissing the tips of his own fingers ; " have I not 
 brought him up since he was the height of my knee ? And I 
 thought him lost — Ai Bhugwan, Bhugwan ! Ai Purmeshwar ! He 
 is safe and well — safe and well, O Sri Mata ! My heart swells. 
 What did I say for the Brahmuns ? Never mind now. Go, bathe 
 and eat, my son, and we will see to everything afterwards." 
 
 '' Not before that matter is settled, father — that is, about the man 
 I brought with me." 
 
 " Yes, I had forgotten — certainly. Light the large lamps," cried 
 the chief to the attendants at the lower end of the room ; "let us 
 see what manner of man he is. Who is he, Gopal ? " 
 
 " That we have to find out, father. They thought him a spy o£ 
 the Emperor's, and he came from Aurungabad, by Bheer, to Kul- 
 lianee, to the Gosai's. He changed some bills for gold, and he has 
 got it. I offered escort, but was refused ; so I went from Muntalla 
 to the Burr tree at Kinny, f or we heard he was going to sleep in the 
 Mutt at Surroori. They were sending him on privately, father." 
 
 " Shabash ! well done, son. A spy ? Well, if we are true to the 
 King's salt, he goes no farther; and he was being sent privately! 
 Ah, the old foxes ! Here he is — what a sight ! " cried the chief, 
 breaking into uncontrollable laughter. "Who art thou? What 
 have they done to thee ? Speak." 
 
 In truth the poor Lalla was a show. The order to search him had 
 
94 TABA : 
 
 been literally complied with, and while two stout fellows held his 
 arms wide apart, he was helpless to struggle. Rama and Luksli- 
 mun, who would allow no one to touch him, had dived into every 
 pocket, and felt every possible place of concealment, even to the 
 Lalla's hair, which was loosened and hung about his shoulders. His 
 turban had been removed and shaken out, while one end was now 
 fastened to his right arm. The bag of gold, tied round his waist, 
 his bundle of precious papers, his sword, dagger, and waist- shawl, 
 had all been taken from him and made into a bundle, and the articles 
 were deliberately counted by the hunchback as they were deposited, 
 one by one, in the centre of the shawl spread out for the purpose. 
 It was quite in vain that the Lalla entreated, besought, struggled, or 
 resisted by turns ; the place, the rough men around him, all forbade 
 hope of pity, and he submitted. Finally, Lukshmun dragging him 
 by the end of his turban, Rama pushing him behind, and several of 
 the others assisting, the Lalla was brought into the presence of the 
 chief, where he sank down, stupidly staring about him. 
 
 Where were all the fine speeches he had contrived, which should 
 have carried the chief's heart at once ? All the couplets, too, from 
 the Bostan that he was to have quoted ? — All gone. His head was 
 bare, his clothes untied and hanging loosely about him ; his boots 
 removed : and his appearance of utter helplessness, and the hope- 
 less, piteous expression of despair in his face, might have excited 
 compassion in any but the hardened men by whom he was sur- 
 rounded and confronted. 
 
 " Who art thou, knave ? Speak," cried the chief, sternly, again 
 raising his voice and checking his laughter. " Who art thou ? " 
 
 " There now, make a salaam to the ' Lion of the Jungle ' " (as the 
 chief was called among his people), said Lukshmun, raising the 
 light hand of the Lalla to his head, which dropped helplessly. 
 *' Ah, I see he is ashamed, poor man, of his naked head. There, 
 Lallajee,'' and he wound the turban round his head hastily, giving 
 it a ludicrous cock to one side, increasing, if possible, the grotesque 
 expression of the features — " there now, get up and make your Tus- 
 leemat, else my lord may be angry ; and he is not exactly safe when 
 he is," he added in a whisper. " Get up, and don't be afraid.'* 
 
 But the Lalla's terror was too great, his mouth too dry to speak. 
 " Aman, aman ! — Mercy, mercy ! " was all he could gasp. 
 
 " Who art thou, knave ? " cried Pahar Singh again. " Whence 
 art thou come ? Give a good account of thyself. Let go of him, 
 rascals ! " he continued to the men who held him ; " begone all of 
 
 ye-" 
 
 *' Maharaj," cried Lukshmun beseechingly to the chief, " here are 
 the Lalla's things ; who will take them ? Look, Rao Sahib," he 
 continued, to Amrut Rao, " here they are : count them. 1 have 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 95 
 
 done with them — for the Lion is getting savage — let me go. Be- 
 ware, O Lalla ! take my adyice, and tell all about yourself, else I 
 shall have to kill you somehow. You don't know the Maharaj as 
 I do." 
 
 This advice, and the diversion effected by the hunchback, afforded 
 the Lalla a little time for the recovery of his senses ; but who could 
 have recognized the bland, accomplished Toolsee Das, in the abject 
 figure before them ? Hastily pressing the turban straight upon his 
 brows, the Lalla arose, and, as well as he could, made the ordinary 
 Tusleemat. 
 
 " Shabash ! " cried the chief. "Well done, that was never 
 learned in the jungle. Now speak truly, and at once, who art 
 thou?" 
 
 " ]^oble sir," returned the Lalla, " I claim your protection. 
 There has been a mistake about my treatment. My property has 
 been taken, and I have been misused- 
 
 " I misuse thee, knave ? " cried Pahar Singh, his brow darkening ; 
 " who art thou to bandy words with Pahar Singh ? I have never 
 seen thee before." 
 
 " Beware, Lallajee,"' said Gropal Singh; "did I not warn thee? 
 Say who thou art at once, or I will not answer for thee. Do not 
 eat dirt." 
 
 " Peace, boy ! " interrupted the chief angrily ; ^' the fellow looks 
 like a knave — a thief — his is no honest face. Speak ; or, by the 
 gods, there will be scant ceremony with thee ! " 
 
 " My lord, niy lord ! " cried the Lalla piteously ; " mercy, I am no 
 thief ; I am a poor Khayet of Delhi, travelling to Beejapoor, on 
 business of my own — a stranger — a poor stranger." 
 
 " What business, Lalla ?" 
 
 " My lord, we are merchants, and have dealings with people there 
 for clothes and jewels. There is a dispute about the accounts, and 
 I have come to settle them," said the Lalla glibly enough. It was 
 one &t the stories he had made up by the way. 
 
 "Who are the merchants ? " asked the chief. 
 
 " The Gosais of the Mutt at Kullianee, where I was yesterday ; 
 they sent me on," replied the Lalla. 
 
 " O, hear ! " cried Gopal Singh ; "they knew nothing about thee, 
 except that thou hadst a bill on them for a thousand rupees, and 
 the money was given thee in gold. Is not this true ? Did I not hear 
 it myself ? " 
 
 " Thou art no merchant, dog," exclaimed Pahar Singh. " Did 
 ever merchant make an obeisance like that ? Ah, we are true testers 
 of gold here ; the true and the false are soon found out. Who art 
 thou ? speak truly, and fear not." 
 
 " By the shrine at Muttra, by the Holy Mother, I am what I say, 
 
96 TAEA 
 
 a poor Khajet, a Mutsuddee only. O noble sirs," continued tlie 
 Lalla, " give me my property, and let me go. I will seek shelter in 
 the bazar : let me go, for the love of your children." 
 
 " I beg to petition," interposed Lukshmun, joining his hands, 
 " that, as I brought him, my share of the gold be given me before 
 he goes. I took care of him on the road — did I not, master ? " 
 
 " Silence ! " roared the chief ; " any one who speaks shall be 
 flogged. Who art thou, O liar ? Mutsuddee thou art, but whose ? 
 Thy speech betrays thee — beware ! " 
 
 *' I have told you, noble sir. Thakoor Das, Preym Das is the 
 name of the firm; my name is Toolsee Das — Lalla Toolsee Das, your 
 slave to command. Ask at KuUianee, and the house will be known 
 there. I — I — am a poor man — a stranger ; who knows me ? " said 
 the Lalla, now whimpering. 
 
 "A fool, a liar art thou, throwing away life," returned Gopal 
 Singh. " This is the second time I have warned thee. We know 
 thou art from the royal camp, and a spy to Beejapoor. Speak, 
 else " 
 
 " And the doom of a spy is death ; and thou art a liar too, and a 
 coward to boot. Look at him now, Gropala," said his uncle, inter- 
 rupting and pointing to the man ; " look at his coward face." 
 
 The Lalla was trembling violently. His knees shook, and his 
 teeth chattered audibly as he shivered. He could not speak, but 
 looked vacantly from one to another. " I am c-o-o-ld — c-o-o-o-ld," 
 he said faintly ; " the wet, sirs, and the long travel. Aman, aman ! 
 I am only a merchant, let me go." 
 
 " Thou art cold! then we will warm thee," cried the chief grimly. 
 " Yet, speak, O Lalla, ere I give the order. We would not hurt thee 
 without cause — otherwise " 
 
 " Ai ISTarayun ! Ai Ramchunder ! believe me, I am no spy. I 
 swear by God I am no spy," he replied earnestly. 
 
 '' Bind him ! " cried the chief furiously. " A liar and a spy. 
 Make torches of his finsrers ! we will soon hear the truth." ^ 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 Ere he knew what to do or say, the Lalla was a second time bound 
 with his own shawl ; and Lukshmun, tearing a rag into strips, and 
 soaking them in the oil of the lamp, was tying them coolly upon the 
 ends of his fingers, one by one. " I told you, Lalla jee," he said, 
 " we are rough i3eople here, and you should be careful. When I 
 light these you will not like the pain, and if you bear that, he will 
 do something worse. When he says 'ch-ck, ch-ck,' you know " 
 
AMAIIRATTA TALE. 97 
 
 "Silence, knaye ! thou art over-familiar," cried Maun Singh; 
 "beware!" 
 
 " Nay, but if I can save him from the torches, uncle," returned 
 the hunchback, with a grotesque grin, " he will perhaps be grateful, 
 and give his wealth to me." 
 
 " Is it ready ? " asked the chief. 
 
 " Quite ready, my lord," answered Lukshmun, taking one of the 
 lighted wicks from the large lamp between his finger and thumb, 
 " For your life, speak, good fellow," he said earnestly and under 
 his breath to the Lalla, " and save yourself this torture. One word 
 more from him, and I daa^e not disobey ; few bear it — speak ! " 
 
 " O, my lord ! my lord! " shrieked the Lalla, now comprehending 
 what was intended, and throwing himself prostrate on the ground, 
 " do not burn me alive. ' I will speak the truth. Why should I tell 
 lies?" 
 
 " Very well," returned the chief, on whose lips the ominous foam 
 speckles were now visible. " Yery well, get up ; it is thine own 
 business. Thou hast not heard of our Dekhan customs, perhaps,, 
 else I had not wasted words on thee. Speak, who sent thee ? 
 Alumgeer ? He cannot help thee now." 
 
 " He would have no mercy on me if he knew — ^if he had me in 
 his power," murmured the Lalla. "Loose me, my lord, I am faint, 
 and cannot speak ; yet I will speak the truth. And should all 
 these hear ? My lord knows best. Loose me, and have these rags 
 taken from my fingers." 
 
 " When thou hast told the truth, Lalla ; not till then," said Pahar 
 Singh, slowly. " Dost thou hear ? Away, all of ye ! " he cried to 
 the attendants, who had crowded round the Lalla. " Keep the 
 torch alight. ISTow, Lalla," he continued, as the man stood alone 
 below the dais, " speak. Once more, and this is my last warning ; 
 if I hear any more lies I will end that coward life of thine." 
 
 " Beware ! " added Gopal Singh, " I would not be as thou art with 
 that lying tongue of thine — ugh ! no, not for lakhs. Remember 
 that he, my uncle, never relents." 
 
 " I would rather speak to ye alone," said the Lalla. 
 
 " We three are as one. Yet stay," added the chief. " Go thou, 
 Amrut Rao, let him have his own chance for life — but remain 
 without." 
 
 " Do any of ye know the seal of the Wuzeer of Beejapoor," said 
 the Lalla, when they were alone, "or do ye know the writing of 
 Sivaji, the Mahratta Rajah ? " He spoke with great difficulty, for 
 his mouth was parched and clammy, and his lips white. 
 
 "Nay, but Sivaji cannot write, Lalla. This is some fool's story. 
 Beware, too, how thou takest the name of my lord the Wuzeer," 
 said the chief sternly. 
 
 H 
 
98 TABA 
 
 " My lord, my lord, with death before me and one chance for life, 
 I cannot lie," returned the Lalla, sadly shaking his head. " My 
 hands are tied ; but if one of you will open that bag, there will be 
 truth enough found in it to save me. There, Jemadar," he con- 
 tinued, as Gopal Singh opened the bag, "in the side pocket are two 
 Persian letters, fastened up ; look at them first ; look at the seals. 
 If I am wrong I am wrong — I am helpless, do as ye like with me ; 
 I am helpless." 
 
 "It is the Wuzeer's seal, his private seal, uncle," said Gopal 
 Singh excitedly. " Of this there is no doubt ; look at it yourself." 
 
 " Ai Ram ! Ai Seeta Ram ! what have we here ? It is the seal 
 truly," said Pahar Singh, looking at the impressions on both letters, 
 and rocking himself to and fro. 
 
 " Do any of ye read Persian ? " asked the Lalla ; "if so, read for 
 yourselves. I need not speak ; they will speak for me." 
 
 "I will try, uncle," said Gopal Singh ; "give me the letters. By 
 Krishna, father ! " he continued, breaking the silence, and after his 
 eye had glanced over a few lines, " I would rather go into the 
 thickest fight than read treachery like this. Narayun, keep us ! " 
 
 " Ay, may the gods be merciful, Gopala ! But what is it ? — 
 what is it ? " said the chief eagerly. 
 
 "He would sell our kingdom of Beejapoor to the Padshah of 
 Delhi, uncle " 
 
 " People said so — people said so," said Pahar Singh, interrupting; 
 " but I did not believe it. What more, my son ? " 
 
 " ]^ay, the style is too courtly for me fco make much of it, but 
 both the letters are to the same effect. Where didst thou get these 
 letters, Lalla ? " 
 
 " Noble gentlemen, if ye are true to your King's salt," exclaimed 
 the Lalla, seeing that he had made an impression on his hearers, 
 " then I deserve naught but good at your hands. I am in the royal 
 service ; I saw the papers ; I read what danger threatened Ali 
 Adil Shah ; I took them ; 1 escaped from the camp with them, to 
 carry them to him, and I am here. O, noble sirs, put me not to 
 loss and shame ! " 
 
 On the next few words hung the Lalla's life. It were easy to kill 
 him and secure the papers. The Wuzeer had sent several urgent 
 messages to Pahar Singh lately. He had a matter of moment, 
 attended with great profit, to communicate. Was it about these 
 letters ? The Wuzeer would give lakhs for them. The very 
 threat of disclosure to the King would extort any terms. Again, if 
 he denied them — and what more easy than to counterfeit his seal, 
 or use it upon forged papers ? If he took this course, they would 
 be in a false position : false to the King and to the Wuzeer, — and 
 the King's threats had of late been very menacing. So, as they 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 99 
 
 deliberated, the Lalla's life hung in the balance, now ascending, 
 now descending, in the eager consultation which the three men 
 carried on in Canarese. The Lalla looked from one to another in 
 piteous supplication, not daring to speak, his mouth parched, and 
 trembling in every limb ; for he felt this quick discussion, and the 
 increasingly savage glances of the chief towards him, to be for life 
 or for death. 
 
 " And this from Sivaji ? " asked Gopal Singh, at length. " What 
 of it, Lalla?" 
 
 "It was with the others, and there are some more of older date 
 in the bag," he replied, " and of the Wuzeer's also. Sivaji's letters 
 had to be translated to the Emperor : I had to copy the translations, 
 and thus I came to know their contents. ISToble sirs, I am telling 
 no lies ; look at the seal. They said in the D after it was Sivaji 
 Bhoslay's. I do not know it myself." 
 
 " Keep the others close, and show this to Amrut Rao," said the 
 chief. "Here," he continued, as the Karkoon, being called, ad- 
 vanced, "look at this ; what dost thou make of it ? " 
 
 The Karkoon looked at the seal and started. " May I open it ? " 
 he said. 
 
 " Yes, read it to us," said the chief. 
 
 He read it over slowly twice. 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " asked his master. 
 
 " What Moro Trimmul wrote from Tooljapoor — what they asked 
 you, my lord, to join in ; and here is your name with five thousand 
 men in figures after it, and the Wuzeer's with a lakh." 
 
 "Is it genuine, think you ? that is what we want to know," said 
 Gopal Singh. 
 
 " Certainly," replied the Karkoon ; "there is the private mark 
 on the seal, and the signature ' He Yenunti ' — ' this supplication ' — 
 is all the Maharaj can write. No one could forge that, it is too 
 crooked. How did that man get it ? " 
 
 "He stole it, Amrut Rao," said the chief ; "and we are discussing 
 whether he ought to live or to die. What dost thou think ? " 
 
 " As a traitor to the salt he has eaten, he ought to die, master," 
 said the Karkoon, looking at the Lalla, who felt that his fate was in 
 the Brahmun's hands, — " but " 
 
 " That is just what I said ! he is not fit to live," interrupted the 
 chief. "Let him die. Ho!" 
 
 " But " — continued the Karkoon in Canarese, persistently inter- 
 rupting the chief, and waving back Lukshmun, Bama, and others, 
 who were advancing — " if I may speak. He says he wants to take 
 them to Beejapoor. Let him have his own way. A bargain may 
 be made with Ali Adil Shah through his secretary the Meerza — not 
 by him " (and he pointed to the Lalla), " but by us. The letters will 
 
100 TARA : 
 
 not alter tlie matter one jot, and my lord can, act as lie pleases 
 afterwards. We can send people with, tlie Lalla." 
 
 " Excellently spoken, Amrut Rao ; ye have all better brains than 
 I have. Then the papers are valuable ? " said Pahar Singh. 
 
 " Yes, my lord, if properly vouched for ; and the man who stole 
 them can give a better account of them than we can. The King 
 might give any money — a lakh of rupees — for them. He already 
 more than suspects the Wuzeer and Sivaji Bhoslay of being in league 
 with the Emperor, and would rejoice to get such proofs of their 
 treachery." 
 
 "Hark ye, Lalla,'' cried tbe chief, changing the language to 
 Oordoo, which he spoke well, " what didst thou expect to get for 
 these papers ? What is the price of them ? " 
 
 " My lord," he replied, simpering and putting up his joined hands, 
 " they may be worth lakhs — so the Gosais at Kullianee told me — 
 anything I liked to ask. They will negotiate the matter with the 
 secretary and the King for me ; and if my lord would only con- 
 descend to assist, I — I — would give — yes, he might be sure of a share." 
 
 *' I of a share ! — of a bribe ! Art tliou feeding me with a bribe ? 
 base dog, and son of a dog ! Pig ! I a share ? O Lalla, thou art 
 surely mad, and fated to eat dirt. Enough of this ! Ho, without 1 
 — Lukshmun ! — hunchbacks ! — away with him ; give him the hand- 
 kerchief in the outer court. Quick ! " roared Pahar Singh, relapsing 
 into fury. 
 
 " Uncle ! father ! not now," cried Gopal Singh, entreatingly, and 
 touching his feet ; then rising and stepping forward with joined 
 bands, "calm thyself. Not to-day, when I am safe; not to-day, 
 when I promised him life ! Give his life to me for this day ; after 
 that, as thou wilt." 
 
 "It is valuable, my lord," added Amrut Rao. "These papers 
 cannot tell their own story. Where could we say we got them ? 
 He must go with them to authenticate them. Gopal Singh and I 
 can go to the city with him, and, after all, he deserves well of Ali Adil 
 Shah, though he has been a traitor to his own King. Give him to 
 us, my lord ; we may get good out of him." 
 
 "No," said the chief, after a moment's pause, "no, Rao Sahib, I 
 will go myself. I will see the end of this matter. Thou shalt come 
 mth me. Maun Singh ; and we can work through thy brother, 
 Amrut Rao. A lakh, saidst thou, Lalla ? Well, T will give thee 
 a share if thou art true. And now I give thy life to thee — buksheesb I 
 — a free gift — a new life, O Lalla. See that thcu make good use of 
 it, for what I give I can recall. Go : they will see to thy food and 
 comfort, and thou wilt eat ina Rajpoot's house of the race of the Sun." 
 
 The Lalla would have said something about his gold and his. 
 liorse ; the words were in his mouth, and it was well, perhaps, he 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 101 
 
 could not speak. The revulsion was too great for him, from life to 
 apparently imminent death, and again from death to life. Weary 
 with travel and faint with hunger, he had sunk down insensible, and 
 they carried him away into the court. 
 
 '' The King has been seeking my life, friends, for some time past," 
 said the chief musingly. " Perhaps it would be well to use these 
 
 papers — that is Yes," he continued, "I have eaten his salt — I 
 
 and my father — and we eat it now. My heart revolts at this treachery, 
 and we can be faithful with many another. Let us rouse the boy. 
 There should be good stuff in Mahmood Adil Shah's son, and I will 
 try it. As for the Wazeer, I know what he would have me do, but 
 I will not say it, else should we have been left quiet so long, and the 
 army so near us ? Stay ye here, Gopal and Amrut Rao. If he send 
 for me, go to him at Nuldroog ; 'tis but a ride. Go and take his 
 money, then come to me at the city, I shall be in the old place ; and 
 bring the hunchbacks with you, there may be work for them." 
 
 The Lalla recovered as they carried him gently into the open air, 
 and bathed his face with water. 
 
 "Ah 1 " said Lukshmun, who was the most active of his attend- 
 ants, and was unbinding the shawl, *' see what care I take of thee, 
 O Lalla ; better your fingers are sound than roasted ; better your neck 
 straight than twisted ; better have to eat good food here — it is so 
 good — than have thy mouth filled with mud and water in the river 
 yonder -" 
 
 "My gold, my gold ! " gasped the Lalla, interrupting him, "who 
 has got it ? at least get that for me." 
 
 " He has got it," replied the hunchback, pointing with his thumb 
 backwards. "Better he, than I or my brother; we should only 
 spend it — he won't. Thy star is bright to-night, Lallajee. "When 
 thou art set free do not forget us, that's all. Come." 
 
 They conducted him to a small chamber within, where two de- 
 cently-clad women awaited them — slaves or servants — and informed 
 the Lalla that a bath had been prepared for him, and food would be 
 served to him in the eating-room. 
 
 We are assured, therefore, that the Lalla was left in good hands. 
 There was perhaps a shade too much garlic in the cookery, he 
 thought; but he was not particular, and appetite returned with 
 absence of fear. When he had finished, he was summoned to the 
 chief, and it was not without apprehension that he went ; but he was 
 now received kindly, though with a rough sort of civility, and 
 motioned to sit near Gopal Singh. So assured, the Lalla's habitual 
 confidence soon returned, and he took his part, with much ability, 
 in the discussion that followed, in which his information in regard 
 to the Emperor's designs was most valuable. 
 
 How the consultation ended wall hereafter appear in another 
 locality, to which we must now transport our readers. 
 
102 TAEA 
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 The Azan, or evening call to prayers, liad just ceased tHrongliont 
 Beejapoor. From mosque to mosque, and minaret to minaret, the 
 sonorous and musical voices of tlie Muezzins had proclaimed the 
 evening invitation to worship. It was still light, though the vivid 
 hues of sunset were fading fast, and the warm red and orange tints, 
 which had rested upon the minarets, domes, and gilded pinnacles of 
 the palaces, mosques, and mausoleums of the superb city, were giving 
 place to a sober grey. Here and there a star already twinkled in the 
 heavens, and a few rosy clouds, on which the sun's rays rested 
 lingeringly, floated away eastwards before a gentle breeze, that 
 rustled among the tall palm trees. For a time the busy hum of the 
 populous city seemed to be hushed, and the stillness and seclusion of 
 the spot we have to describe, prompted those feelings of devotion 
 which the time required. 
 
 It was one of those small yet elegant mosques, which are found 
 scattered everywhere about the ruins that now exist, surrounded by 
 enclosures that were once gardens, in which broken fountains and 
 dry watercourses now only suggest visions of their former elegance 
 and comfort, and where low brushwood and tangled grass have dis- 
 placed the fragrant flowers and useful fruit trees of former days. 
 Here and there a jessamine, now wild, trails over ruined walls and 
 once trim garden terraces, or a long-lived hardy lime tree struggles 
 for existence in the unwatered soil. 
 
 At the period of our tale, however, the building was in its full 
 freshness and beauty. A single arch, of low Saracenic form, led into 
 a square room vaulted by dehcate groins, leading from the corners 
 to the base of a cupola above. The floor was formed of chequers of 
 black and white marble, highly polished ; and the sides of the room, 
 deeply indented by arched niches, were finished with stucco, which 
 rivalled the marble in polish and purity of colour. Around the 
 largest niche, at the end opposite to the entrance, and the arch in 
 which the pulpit stood, were borders of delicate arabesque foliage, 
 into which texts from the Koran, in coloured enamel letters, were skil- 
 fully and elegantly interwoven ; while above the pulpit itself, in gold 
 letters on a black ground, was the Arabic text, " La Alia, il Alia, 
 Mahomed russool Alia ; " " There is no God but one God, and Maho- 
 med is the prophet of God." Two plain cotton carpets, striped 
 red and white, had been placed before the pulpit, to be used by those 
 who might come to the evening prayer. 
 
 Outside, the front of the mosque was composed of the dark- 
 coloured basalt used in all the buildings of the city, beautifully 
 finished as to the fitting of the stones, on which bold cornices and 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 103 
 
 rosettes had been executed round tlie entrance arcli, and about tTie 
 projecting portion which supported the small minarets. Imme- 
 diately above the archway, broad stone eaves crossed the face of the 
 building, resting upon deep and richly carved brackets of black basalt, 
 surmounted by a bold cornice, over which were fleurs-de-lis, forming 
 the upper ornament. Under the projecting eaves, and on the crest 
 of the entrance arch, were bright flowers in coloured enamel, bor- 
 dered by frames of delicate white stucco work, which relieved the 
 rich but monotonous tint of the stone, without disturbing the chaste 
 effect of the whole. In the centre of the terrace, before the mosque, 
 was a small fountain, for the purpose of ablution, which threw up a 
 tiny thread of water to some height in the air, descending in a shower 
 of light spray, and producing a faint, plashing sound, very grateful 
 to the ear. 
 
 Above the mosque, and mingling with its slender minarets and 
 thin gilded spires, a few cocoa-nut trees waved their graceful pendant 
 leaves ; and with them the heavy foliage of the fragrant moulserry, 
 and the broad leaf of the plantain, with its tender yet vivid green, 
 formed an harmonious contrast. Nearer the terrace was a group of 
 orange trees, some weighed down by clusters of golden fruit, others 
 covered with blossom, which, with the tuberoses around the fountain, 
 and the evening jessamine now opening, gave forth to the cool even- 
 ing air a fragrance almost overpowering. By day, the sun hardly 
 ever reached the mosque, and it always appeared invitingly cool and 
 quiet ; but at this evening hour, shadow was rapidly deepening into 
 gloom, adding a solemn effect which enhanced the beauty of this se- 
 cluded spot. 
 
 Two persons stood by the fountain. They had just performed their 
 ablutions, as the last quivering chant of the Muezzin, "La ilia, il 
 Ulla," issuing from the tall minaret of one of the neighbouring 
 mosques, floated to them on the soft breeze : yet they appeared to 
 hesitate ere they entered the mosque for the evening prayer. One 
 of them was an elderly woman, clad as befitted the position of the 
 favourite nurse and confidential female servant of a wealthy house, 
 in a blue cotton petticoat of thick but fine texture, over which, and 
 around her body and head, was a white muslin scarf. Her features 
 were homely, yet good-natured, and she evidently regarded her com- 
 panion, — who merits a fuller description, — -with pride mingled with 
 deep affection. 
 
 And, in truth, there were few fairer maidens in Beejapoor, even 
 among the wealthy and high-born nobles, than Zyna, the only 
 daughter of Afzool Khan. Her features might be called irregular, 
 according to any European standard, but they were soft and inex- 
 pressibly charming ; and in her large lustrous eyes, of the deepest 
 brown, there lurked a world of deep feeling which the excitement of 
 
104 TABA : 
 
 life would call into action. Abont her rounded chin and small montli, 
 whose full and bow-shaped lips had somewhat of a voluptuous ex- 
 pression, there played a thousand charms, which, though they might 
 not disclose themselves or be observed while her features were at 
 rest, yet, as her first timid reserve gave place to the excitement of 
 conversation or passing incident, exercised a strange but irresistible 
 fascination over those about her. 
 
 She was very fair for her country. Her mother's bright Georgian 
 complexion was but little deepened in her daughter's richer and 
 browner cast of colour ; the skin appeared to possess that trans- 
 parent softness which gave a bewitching charm to the delicate yet 
 decided features ; and her cheeks and neck flushed, under any ex- 
 citement, with a warmth which told of her southern and more 
 excitable temperament. Whenever she spoke, the upper lip was 
 raised higher than usual, disclosing a rosy mouth, with teeth which 
 glistened like pearls, even and small ; and from the absence of any 
 ornament in the nostril, it was evident that, as yet, no marriage rite 
 had been performed. Her age might be fourteen, or even less ; but 
 her figure, from its rounded proportions and grace, would have in- 
 duced a presumption that she was older. 
 
 Yet it would have been only a passing thought. One look at that 
 innocent, almost childish face — where, though full of bright intelH- 
 gence. the world had as yet fixed no stamp of care to check the 
 natural joyousness of her spirit — would have dispelled it instantly ; 
 and if the habitual brightness was sometimes dimmed, it was but as 
 the breath upon a mirror — the passing shadow of some gentle disap- 
 pointment, which enhanced the beauty as it passed away. 
 
 There was no mark of rank or wealth about her, except in the 
 solid gold anklets of heavy chain work she wore, which fitted closely 
 over her high bare instep : a ring of gold hanging loosely about her 
 neck, and a rosary of large pearls usually worn there, but which were 
 now passing rapidly, and apparently mechanically, through her 
 fingers, as if the thoughts that urged them were somewhat agitated. 
 There was, too, a slight knitting of the brow while she idly, and per- 
 haps somewhat impatiently, dabbled with one naked foot in the 
 water which was welling over the rim of the fountain, sending circles 
 of small wavelets over its otherwise unruffled surface, as 'she looked 
 eagerly to the entrance-door of the garden as if in expectation of 
 some one. As she stood thus upon a step, her foot resting upon the 
 raised rim of the fountain — the vivid scarlet of her satin petticoat, 
 and the white of the fine muslin scarf which, wound about her 
 person, and passed over her head — were reflected in its trembling 
 waters ; and, with the mosque and dark trees behind her, and the 
 figure of the old nurse sitting on the step at her feet, a picture was 
 formed such as no man could have looked on without emotion, and 
 admiration of a being so eminently lovely. 
 
A MA HB ATT A TALE. 105 
 
 *' You are my witness, Goolab," slie said at lengtli, looking down 
 on the nurse, " that lie said he would come to evening prayer, and 
 that I have waited thus long. The time is passing fast, and you 
 know this is the second night he has disappointed me. O, that he 
 may not be careless to Grod's service ! He used not to be so. But 
 I am not angry with him, nurse," she continued, looking down to 
 the attendant ; and as she spoke, every trace of displeasure, if it had 
 ever existed, disappeared at once before her habitual good humour 
 and sweet smile; "he never disappointed me, that he had not some 
 very good reason for staying away — and yet " 
 
 " Nay, my soul," returned the woman, " the Azan is but just said, 
 and there is yet ample time for prayer ; the carpets have not been 
 half spread in the Jumma Mosque yet. Why should you be im- 
 patient ? But listen, was I not right ? My young lord comes, so 
 think him faithless no longer." 
 
 As she spoke the door of the garden court opened, and with a cry 
 of joy Zyna sprang to meet her brother, as with rapid steps he 
 traversed the garden, and ascended the low terrace before the 
 mosque. 
 
 Still of tender age, Fazil Khan was already a remarkable figure. 
 The down of youth had not yet hardened upon his lip and chin ; but 
 his tall athletic frame, and ereet and confident carriage, proved him 
 to have been engaged in the actions, if not the strife, of the world. 
 His animated features strongly resembled his sister's, but with a 
 sterner and bolder cast of expression, while his colour was much 
 darker. A large grey eye, with remarkably long lashes, which he 
 had from his mother, increased their grave, thoughtful, yet tender, 
 and perhaps almost mournful, expression ; the same sweet smile as 
 Zyna's played about his mouth as he returned her joyous welcome, 
 while his glistening eye and excited manner proved that something 
 unusual had occurred, not only to delay him, but to cause an emotion 
 he could not well repress. • 
 
 "Ah, thou art a sad truant, Fazil," said Zyna, as, after their first 
 greeting, he laid aside his sword and shield, loosened his waist-band, 
 and prepared to perform his ablutions; "armed, too, more heavily 
 than usual, while thy face tells me thou hast met with some recent 
 adventure. Thou hast not been in danger .... Fazil, my brother!" 
 
 " Danger ! " echoed the youth ; " if to walk the streets of Beeja- 
 poor amidst contending factions, where one can hardly tell a friend 
 from an enemy, be danger, why then, dear sister, I have had my 
 share even now. But, trust me, there is no real danger to me. Come 
 then to prayer, for the Azan is said, and the light already fails us." 
 
 So saying, they ascended the mosque steps together. Their car- 
 pets were already spread, and they at once engaged in the service of 
 the evening, well known to the youth, but in the performance of 
 which, his sister was as yet only his gentle and docile pupil. 
 
106 TAB A : 
 
 It would seem tliat tlieir appearance, as they descended the steps 
 of the mosque together after the prayer was finished, and came out 
 again upon the terrace by the fountain, had more than ordinarily at- 
 tracted the nurse's attention, for she advanced, and passing her hands 
 rapidly over them from head to foot, pressed her knuckles against 
 her temples ; and as they cracked loudly, ejaculated a fervent wish 
 for a thousand years' life and prosperity to each. Such acts are 
 common to the privileged native servants of India, and old Goolab 
 had been their faithful attendant since they were born, and had care- 
 fully watched their growth. Both loved her warmly, and there was 
 nothing either would have grudged, to soothe the declining years of 
 their old favourite. 
 
 "Enough, enough, Groolab," cried Fazil, as, after several repeti- 
 tions of the ceremony we have just mentioned, she stroked his chin 
 with her fingers, and kissed their tips ; " what evil do you think has 
 come to me that you take it on yourself ? " 
 
 " Alas, I know not ! " said the nurse, sighing ; and as she spoke 
 her eyes filled with tears ; " but my lord said there had been danger, 
 and I would not have it so. And what evil glances may not have 
 been cast on my beautiful child all through the streets to-day ? " 
 
 The youth made a slight gesture of impatience, but it was lost on 
 the fond old woman. Checking the feeling which had prompted it, 
 he cried cheerfully, "No, no, Groolab, believe me, I meant no more 
 than ordinary danger ; are we not always in it ? And who can tell 
 the hour of his death ? " he added after a pause, and looking rever- 
 ently upwards ; " or whether it is to come by a bullet or a sword- 
 cut, long wasting fever or sudden sickness ; nay, here as we stand ! 
 When the message comes we cannot stay.'' 
 
 "Hush, say not so, brother," said Zyna, gently laying her hand 
 upon his mouth ; " talk not so of death." 
 
 "Nay, my rose, he says but the truth," added Groolab ; "and who 
 knew it better, than the pure saint your mother, who sleeps yonder ? 
 Well, it was God's will, and who shall gainsay it ? Meah is right, 
 my pet, but death should not be sent to the like of you ; only to the 
 old servant who is ripe for the harvest " 
 
 "We linger," said Fazil to his sister, interrupting her ; " and the 
 darkness is fast spreading. I have much to do ere midnight, and I 
 must go to prepare for it. I will meet thee at the evening meal be- 
 fore I start- Yet once more to take leave of thee, O mother ! " 
 
 he said to himself ; " there may be danger to-night, and if it should 
 
 be Come, Zyna," he resumed, "a few flowers for the tomb, and 
 
 I must go. Get a light, Goolab — the lamp may as well be lighted 
 now." 
 
 " I had placed them before you came, Fazil; but come; again may 
 she look down on her children together," said his sister. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, lOT 
 
 So saying, she gathered a few jessamine and moulserrj flowers 
 and, with her brother following, passed to the end of the garden 
 court, where, among some others, stood a liigh tomb of polished 
 black stone, with a pillar at the back in which was a niche for lamps, 
 that were lighted every evening. 
 
 E/Cverently and tenderly were the fresli flowers laid at the head 
 and feet of the tomb by both. One could see no morbid motive in 
 the act, and there were no tears or vain regret. Their creed, imbued 
 as it is with fatalism, had taught them submission, and the offer- 
 ing up of flowers every evening after the Azan, as the lamps were 
 lighted, had become a simple duty, never committed to others. If 
 those two loving and simple hearts believed that their mother's spirit 
 was thus rejoiced, it will account to us for that constant remembrance 
 of the dead wbicb is so affecting, and generally so sincere, among the 
 Mahomedan families of India. 
 
 " Come," said Fazil, "we must not delay ; though indeed, O sweet 
 mother ! I could stay long with thee to-night," he added, touching 
 the foot of the grave gently, and raising his hand to his bead. " I 
 kiss thy feet, O mother ! may thy blessing rest upon me. Be not 
 far from us, O beloved ! Come, Groolab, give me the lamp, and I will 
 place it myself to-night." 
 
 " What ails the boy ? " said the nurse to herself, as Fazil advanced 
 with, the lamp, lighted the others, and placed it in the niche with the 
 customary prayer. " What ails him to-night ? Truly there is danger^ 
 
 and he has done all those things himself that he may meet her 
 
 If it be the will of Alia, who can gainsay it? but not so, O Protector! "" 
 sh.e muttered ; " not so. I vow Fatehas at the mosque next Friday if 
 he is spared," slie said inwardly, weeping. 
 
 Fazil's errand was done, and as he turned he saw the old nurse 
 wiping her eyes. " Ah, weeping, Groolab ? " be said. " No, no, that 
 is of no use now." 
 
 " ISTo, Meah, truly of no use," she replied ; " but memory is often 
 too much for me when I think upon her. Yet I will not weep — of 
 what use would it be ? " 
 
 " None, old nurse, none; come, get me my dinner, for I have mucli 
 to do ere midnight." 
 
 "Will our father join us ? " asked Zyna. 
 
 " I think not ; I left him engaged with affairs of importance with 
 the King's secretary in the Durbar, and he did not speak of return^ 
 I will wait a little for him, but should I not see him, thou must tell 
 him, Zyna, that I am gone on the King's business. But hurry the 
 dinner ; I go only to give a few orders, and I will be with thee 
 presently." 
 
 So saying he left them, and quitted the garden by another door 
 which led to the outer court, where the guard-houses allotted to the 
 
108 TABA : 
 
 retainers of his father's house were situated. Goolab followed to 
 bar the door after him, which was kept closed on the inside, and, 
 returning to Zjna, said, " Did he tell thee what he was going to do, 
 my life ? " 
 
 " No," said Zyna sadly ; " he would not tell me, nurse, and I dared 
 not ask him. He said he would explain all by-and-by, and he will. 
 I know he will," she added, clapping her hands ; "he always trusts 
 me." 
 
 *' I only hope he is in none of these plots that they say are going 
 on," returned the nurse. 
 
 " What plots, Groolab ? " asked Zyna with apprehension. 
 
 " O, I know not," replied the old woman, with a puzzled air, and 
 passing her hand across her eyes ; *' only people in the bazar say so ; 
 and the Bangle woman, after she had put on your new set the other 
 day, said something about the Mahrattas and Sivaji Bhoslay." 
 
 " O, the Kafirs!" cried Zyna, laughing ; "I have no fear for them, 
 if that is all. I was afraid of worse. But come, or we shall keep 
 him waiting." 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 Entering another small court, in which there was a stone porch 
 formed of pillars connected by arches, supporting a dome in the shape 
 of half an octagon, projecting from a side- wall, which served as a 
 private place of audience — Eazil passed through a farther door into 
 one of the large exterior courts of the mansion, which contained an 
 open hall composed of a triple row of pointed arches covering a large 
 space. Generally, it was filled with the better classes of horse- 
 soldiers ; Silladars, or cavaliers who rode their own horses and sat 
 there when not on duty ; also by the officers and men of the young 
 Khan's own guard : and occasionally was used by his father when 
 were held great ceremonies, festivals, or rejoicings in the house. 
 
 On the three other sides of the court were arches or cloisters, 
 slightly raised from the ground, in which lounged or slept soldiers of 
 all classes, on duty or otherwise, generally collected into groups, 
 playing at chess, or pacheese, or cards, singing, or telling stories. 
 Just then, however, most were idle; for the lamps, which stood in 
 niches in the centre of each arch, had not been lighted. The large 
 hall was nearly empty ; but in one corner a group of Karkoons, or 
 clerks, sat with a large brass lamp in the midst of them, occupied 
 with accounts, and making fair copies of letters to be despatched 
 by that night's post. 
 
 All the men assembled here were strictly the retainers of the house ; 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 10^ 
 
 for the gnard of troops belonging to the King "bad another post in a 
 different court, and were comparatively few in number. Afzool 
 Khan's household force, or Paegah, as it was called, was supported 
 out of royal estates, granted or assigned for the purpose. It belonged 
 strictly to the royal service, but the men looked to their own lord for 
 employment and maintenance, followed him to the field, and were 
 for the most part hereditary retainers, with no claim upon, or expect- 
 ation from, royal favour. Such was the condition and constitution 
 of the greater portion of native armies at the period of our tale, and 
 such it continues to be in native states where troops are maintained. 
 
 Fazil Khan was the idol of his men, both Moslems and Hindus. 
 His martial exercises had begun early, and he had proved an apt 
 scholar. Any of the men who particularly excelled in the use of a 
 particular weapon had, in turn, the young noble for his pupil ; and 
 in all field accomplishments necessary to the soldier and gentleman 
 of those days, the young Khan was well skilled. IS^o doubt these, 
 and his daily systematic exercises, had developed a frame always 
 strongly knit ; and his broad deep chest, round muscular arms, and 
 thin flanks, amply testified strength and activity. 
 
 On horseback with the Mahratta spear or matchlock, it was no 
 hyperbole to say that, at full gallop, he could pick up a tent-peg 
 driven into the ground with the former, or shatter one at a fair dis- 
 tance with a bullet from the other. Such martial accomplishments 
 never fail to gain the respect and attachment of an inferior soldiery ; 
 and when to these were added a disposition open and cheerful, some- 
 what hasty perhaps at times, but in reality generous and affectionate, 
 — a hearty frank manner, which few could resist, and a countenance, 
 not strictly handsome, but which expressed all this and even more, — 
 it will not be thought strange, that the young Khan should have be- 
 come a universal favourite with his retainers, and the especial 
 darling and idol of a few. 
 
 Chief, perhaps, among the latter, was Bulwunt Rao Bhoslay, who 
 held rank in the Paegah as Duffadar, or leader of a small " duff a," or 
 subdivision of men. He was a Mahratta of good, nay, originally 
 noble family — a Silladar, or cavalier who maintained not only his own 
 horse but five others, with which, mounted by dependants of his own, 
 he had originally visited the capital and joined the service of Afzool 
 Khan. 
 
 Him, had the young Khan selected as his especial instructor in the 
 use of the sword ; for at the annual festivals and games before the 
 King's palace, Bulwunt Rao's feats of slicing betel-nut on the ground, 
 cutting a lime in two on the palm of a man's hand, or a ripe guava 
 on his head, were unrivalled ; and their yearly repetition was looked 
 for by the people with great interest, and always rewarded by hearty 
 acclamations. 
 
110 TABA : 
 
 Bulwunt Rao was wortliy of his young lord's confidence. Daring 
 and resolute, he had already led Fazil Khan into the midst of some 
 sharp cavalry affairs with the Moghnls, and brought him forth safe, 
 while he himself had been wounded several times in protecting him 
 from sword-cuts. Wily, yet full of energy, if there were any neces- 
 sity for action, open and frank in his manner, he had early won his 
 young lord's affectionate regard, which he very heartily returned, 
 while he rejoiced, with all a soldier's pride, to see him growing up as 
 manly and true of heart as his boyhood had promised. 
 
 Fazil's arrival among those assembled — so suddenly, and at an 
 hour when he usually withdrew to the zenana and his studies — 
 caused no little excitement among the men, and they eagerly crowded 
 round him for the news which he might have to tell them. 
 
 "What tidings hast thou for us, Meah Sahib?" cried a fine 
 bearded fellow of his own tribe of Pathans, also a favourite. "May 
 thy prestige increase ! but there should be something by thy look, — 
 a march against those zenana dogs of Moghuls, or a fray over the 
 border against Golconda." 
 
 "A hunt of Moghuls!" echoed several. "What better sport, 
 Meah ? There are some pickings of Delhi gold to be got in their 
 waist-bands and pockets." 
 
 " And what has my lord for his servants to perform ? " asked 
 Bulwunt Rao, now advancing with his usual easy yet deferential 
 manner. " Speak but the word, and we are in our saddles directly. 
 Shall I order the Nagara to be beaten, and cry to horse ! " 
 
 " JSTot so, Bulwunt," said the young man, taking him aside ; " what 
 I have to say is for your ear alone. Come into the private court and 
 •listen." 
 
 " For me alone, Meah ? " returned Bulwunt Rao, laughing. 
 " What brawl have you fallen into ? whom have you slain to-dav, 
 sir?" 
 
 " Let us all follow if ye are going out," cried several others ; 
 " don't leave us behind." 
 
 " We have had nothing to do for a month," added one. 
 
 " And our swords have lost their edges, Meah," shouted several. 
 
 " Peace, all of ye," exclaimed the young Khan ; "let no one follow 
 us. This is no fighting matter. Am I wont to plunge into street 
 brawls, Bulwunt Rao ? " 
 
 "We were none of us with you, my lord, to-day," cried several, 
 " and it is not safe for you to be alone in the streets in these times." 
 
 " I had others of the King's, and was quite safe," returned Fazil ; 
 " but come, Bulwunt, if you are fit to listen to me ; I only fear that 
 ganja pipe of yours is at fault, and your brain is hardly clear. If 
 not, I had as well hold my tongue ; yet I had rather trust you, old 
 friend," he continued seriously, "than any other." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. m 
 
 Fazil's altered tone and manner liad their effect npon liis com- 
 panion. "Wait for a moment, Meali," lie said, "I will join you 
 instantly;" and so saying, lie ran quickly back to the spot where he 
 had left his carpet, seized a brass vessel of cool water, poured some 
 into his hand and dashed it upon his face, then swallowed several 
 rapid and deep gulps, and returned. " Now, I am fit to listen to the 
 words of the holy Krishna himself if he were on earth ; therefore 
 speak on, Meah Sahib, and behold your servant ready to think for 
 you, or to fight for you, as you please !'' 
 
 "Ay, there is some soberness about you now, Bulwunt," said the 
 young man ; " less redness about the eyes, and they are looking 
 straight out of your head, instead of rolling about in it. Now, can 
 I trust you not to prate of this matter before the people yonder, or over 
 the ganja pipe " 
 
 " Nay, Meah, be merciful, and pardon me for once," said Bulwunt, 
 closing his hands and putting them up to his forehead; "the ganja 
 has grown on me, but not to the discredit of my faithfulness, Meah ; 
 and when I smoke I never talk. Now, say on, I will be silent as 
 death." 
 
 Fazil proceeded some paces through the court without replying to 
 his retainer, and tried the garden door, but it was fastened inside. 
 " We must be content here," he said. " Go, shut the door, we shall 
 at least be safe from interruption." 
 
 "In the name of all the gods, Meah," said Bulwunt Bao, as he re- 
 turned and sat down on the step of the porch beside Fazil, " what 
 hast thou to say to me ? Why all this need of caution ? Has the 
 Wuzeer revolted, or what ? " 
 
 " Silencfe," returned Fazil, "hear me. In one word, you are a 
 Mahratta — is Tannajee Maloosray known to you ? " 
 
 The question seemed for an instant to stun the faculties of the 
 hearer. He passed his hand dreamily across his forehead and eyes, 
 and, pausing, seemed to gasp. Fazil thought it might be a sudden 
 dizziness — the consequence of the strong narcotic he had been 
 smoking — and w^as about to ask him, when Bulwunt Bao spoke. 
 
 " Tannajee Maloosray ! Meah ? Do I know Maloosray ? Ay, 
 truly. Khan ; as the wild dog and the wolf, as the wild boar and the 
 tiger know each other, so do I know Tannajee Maloosray. The de- 
 stroyer of my house, the usurper of my possessions, the plunderer 
 of my ancestral wealth. Yes, there is a feud between us which can 
 be washed out only by blood. Listen, Meah," continued Bulwunt 
 Bao, and he got up and walked rapidly to and fro : " hast thou time 
 to hear a short story about Tannajee ? " 
 
 "Yes, speak on. I am listening." 
 
 " I was a youth," continued Bulwunt, " younger than you are by 
 several years, when Maloosray aimed his blow at my family. My 
 
112 TABA : 
 
 father was dead ; had he lived, Tannajee dared not have done it. 
 Mj nncle, Govind Rao, was a timid man, looking only to the farms- 
 and to money-making while he lived. At last be died also. But he 
 left another brother, Ramdeo, whom we loved mnch, and he took care 
 of us all. My younger brother, Seeta Ram^ — why speak of him, Meah ? 
 he would have been as beautiful as thou art — and some of the women 
 and myself, all lived together in the old house. They came at mid- 
 night, Tannajee and a band of his Mawullees. I do not remember 
 much, Meah ; but look here ;" and he took off his turban and showed 
 a deep scar on his shaved head. " That is what I fell from, under a 
 blow of his sword. I don't think,'' he continued dreamily, " that I 
 have been quite right in my brain since, but it does not matter. 
 
 " Next morning there were seven stark corpses in the house, and 
 great pools of blood. My uncle, my grandmother, two servants — 
 how can I say it ? — yes, my mother and my little brother, and my 
 mother's sister, who was a widow. One blow of a sword had killed 
 my brother and my mother. He was in her arms, and had clung to 
 her. Enough; who could have done this but Maloosray? There 
 is not a sword in all Maharastra which could have struck such a 
 blow as that was — but Maloosray's. 
 
 " When I recovered consciousness in the morning, the women that 
 remained, and some servants, were wailing over the dead, but they 
 were barely alive from terror. Neighbours however came in, and 
 some of our tenants and servants, and the place was cleaned up. In 
 the evening there were seven piles made near the river for the seven 
 corpses, and they were burned. My wound had been sewn up by 
 the barber, and I was carried to perform the last ceremonies, and I 
 then swore upon their ashes to revenge them, and I will yet do it. 
 Now, by thy father's salt, tell me what thou knowest of that villain 
 Maloosray, and how his name comes into thy mouth ? " 
 
 " And was nothing done for justice, Bulwunt ? Was justice dead 
 in that country ? " asked Fazil, deeply interested. 
 
 " Justice ! " echoed Bulwunt Rao, " justice ! Ah, Meah, what can 
 the poor do for justice ? All the wealth of the house had been plundered. 
 Maloosray had brought a hundred of his brethren in that Durora, 
 and he had promised them the plunder. His object was my life, but 
 the gods sparea it, and I came here to serve the King, till — till 
 Tannajee is dead, or till I kill him, Meah ! That is the only justice I 
 want : that, and the land he took from me. I thought to tell thee 
 all some day, and now I have said it ; but, by thy soul, tell me how 
 Maloosray's name is known to thee, and why ? " 
 
 " Should you know him again, Bulwunt, if you saw him?" asked 
 Fazil. 
 
 " Know him, Meah — among a thousand — among a thousand. It 
 is years since we met ; but, before that quarrel with my father about 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 113 
 
 the land, he came to us often, for lie was my mother's relative. He 
 hunted large game on our hills, when I went with him, and I was a 
 great fayourite of his. Most of the sword-play I know, he taught 
 me. Know him ? Yes. That night I, a stripling, crossed swords 
 with him. I had wounded one of his men, and he heard the cry. 
 He had been seeking for me. What could I do, Meah, a weak boy, 
 among a crowd of screaming women ? Yet I crossed swords with 
 him ; and there are few alive who would dare to do so. Forget him ? 
 l^o, I should know him among a thousand. His eyes, Meah, his 
 eyes ! Hast thou seen them ? " 
 
 " N"ay, I have not seen them yet, Bui want ; but I think I know 
 where he is to be found," returned Fazil. 
 
 " Here, Meah ? in Beejapoor ? Tannajee Maloosray in the city?" 
 
 " Yes, here. You are always rambling about the city at night, and 
 
 know all the mudud khanas ; canst thou guide me to one Rama's 
 
 shop — Rama of Ashtee ? It is in the great kullal's bazar, and near 
 
 a Hindu temple." 
 
 " I know it, Meah ; I know it well. Rama sells the best ganja in 
 Beejapoor. Yes, I can take you there, but not in those clothes." 
 
 " Not now. Let the night wear on a little ; they will not be there 
 till just before midnight," replied Fazil ; " and we have to watch the 
 temple, too. Is there one near Rama's, with trees about it ? Some 
 people meet there first, and then go to Rama's." 
 
 *'Yes, Meah, there is the temple of Devi, in the plain beyond, 
 among the tamarind trees ; a lonely place it is, and Byragees put up 
 there. Yes, I know it." 
 
 " Then I am right," continued Fazil, "for I saw it myself to-day. 
 N'ow, as Maloosray is desperate, should we not take some picked men 
 with us ? There is Raheem Khan, and " . 
 
 "Men? — to take Maloosray?" cried Bulwunt. "O Meah, you 
 are simple to think it. Maloosray will have twenty, aye fifty, spies 
 out, and old Rama is chief of them. One soldier a coss off, and 
 Tannajee would be warned. But why go, Meah?" he continued, 
 after a pause. " I will take my own men and bring him. " O," 
 cried Bulwunt, speaking through his teeth and to himself, " for one 
 good chance and a fair field with him now ! " 
 
 "No, Bulwunt, I must go; it is the King's business," returned 
 Fazil ; " besides Persian may be spoken, and you do not understand it." 
 
 " Persian, my lord ? then this is a Moghul affair ? " 
 
 " I cannot say, friend," returned Fazil ; "all I have discovered is, 
 that Maloosray will be in the temple, or in the mudud khana, and a 
 ' Lalla.' There is no good, I am sure, at the bottom of it, and we 
 must find out what it is. We know the Moghul emissaries are busy, 
 and it is important to check their plots." 
 
 "And Sivaji Bhdslay's also, Meah, they bode no good; for my 
 
114 TABA 
 
 people write to me that he and Tannajee have leagued together, 
 and ; in short, they write foolish things, sir." 
 
 *'Bh6slaj? that is jour family name, Bulwunt," said Fazil, musing. 
 
 " Yes," he replied, " and we are of the same house ; but he is rich 
 and I am poor. And now people tell wonderful things of him ; how 
 the Mother — that is, Bhowani, speaks in him sometimes, and he 
 prophesies great events. One thing is certain, Meah, Sivaji Bhoslay 
 is no friend to Beejapoor, nor to any Mussulman ; and if Maloosray 
 has come here for him, it is with some object which is worth the risk 
 to discover." 
 
 " Then they are friends ?" asked Fazil. 
 
 "Ay, Meah, as thou and I, and nearer still. Maloosray believes 
 Sivaji to be an incarnation of the gods, and would give his life for 
 him. So, too, many another ; and the people have begun to write 
 ballads about him, which are sung in Beejapoor even sometimes, 
 and they set one's blood dancing. No wonder the people of the wild 
 valleys love them; wild places, Meah, which ye know little of as yet." 
 
 " Yes, it is worth the risk to find out what is doing. One thread 
 of those dark intrigues in my hand and I am not my father's son if I 
 do not discover more," replied Fazil; "but you said we should be 
 disguised." 
 
 The Mahratta thought for a moment. " What sayest thou, Meah, 
 to becoming a Hindu for the time ? I could paint the marks on thy 
 forehead. Nay," he continued, as he saw the young man shrink 
 from the idea, "they will only be very temporary 'abominations,' 
 as the old Khan calls them, and water will remove them when we 
 return." 
 
 " Good," returned Fazil. " I will suffer 'the abominations' in the 
 cause of the Shah and the faith. And, now, begone. I will come 
 to thee here, after the evening meal, and we can dress unobserved. 
 But swear on my neck, Bulwunt, no more ganja to-night." 
 
 "No, no, Meah," returned the man, laughing, and touching his 
 young lord's neck and feet ; "I swear I will not touch it. We both 
 need cool heads for this work, and I will not fail you." 
 
 " Then go," added Fazil. " I will send Goolab to you when I am 
 ready." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Fazil was as good as his word to his fair sister, and having seen 
 Bulwunt depart, gained the door which led to the private apart- 
 ments, and proceeded to that in which he knew he should find her. 
 
 The room was upon the first story, which, by means of deep stone 
 brackets, had been constructed so as to project somewhat over the 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 115 
 
 rooms beneatli. It contained, indeed for the most part consisted of, 
 three large oriel windows, overhanging the line of the walls, so that 
 they commanded a view up and down the main street, which led to 
 Toorweh and the royal palaces. These windows were large enough 
 for several persons to sit in and enjoy the air ; and the floor of the 
 centre one, which was the largest, was raised a step above that of 
 the room, so as to form a dais, on which a thickly- quilted cotton 
 mattress, covered with clean white muslin, was laid every day, and 
 furnished with large pillows, so that those sitting there could recline 
 luxuriously, if they pleased. Between the stone muUions of the 
 windows, carved screens or shutters of wood had been inserted, 
 which were fixtures, except a portion in the centre which opened on 
 hinges. Without them were heavy wooden shutters, lined with iron, 
 with openings to fire from should it be needed. 
 
 The other windows did not project so far, and were in fact single 
 arches, filled deep with carved lattice-work, closed during the day, 
 but open in the evening to admit the fresh air. Beside each was a 
 large Persian carpet and a pillow. The floor of the apartment had 
 also a thin carpet of quilted cotton cloth, covered with white musHn ; 
 and the perfect neatness of the whole, the walls being pure white 
 without ornament, gave evidence of very vigilant superintendence 
 by the Khan's present wife, perhaps by Zyna herself. One lamp 
 burned in a corner, and, being agitated by the wind, which blew 
 freely through the apartment, gave a flickering light, which left 
 much of the space in actual gloom. 
 
 Zyna had been there some time, and the sweet freshness of the 
 evening air had tempted her to throw open the lattice window to 
 admit it more freely, as she sat in the balcony or oriel window 
 already mentioned. Looking out upon what was passing below her, ' 
 she did not observe her brother's entrance, and almost started as he 
 spoke. 
 
 " I did not hear thee, brother," she said, rising and making way 
 for him. " Come and sit here, it is so fresh after the rain. What 
 kept thee so late ? We hear the Durbar was very full to-day, and 
 that there are more rumours of war. O, I pray not, brother ? " 
 
 " True, sister, there are such rumours," he replied; " but nothing 
 new. The Wuzeer is at Nuldroog with the army. The Emperor's 
 forces lie about Dowlutabad, so there is no change. But I was not 
 in Durbar. I was looking after some other matters. Come and sit 
 here, Zyna, and I will tell thee. See," he continued, as she seated 
 herself by him, '' the city looks calm and beautiful, does it not ? 
 Yet, who can tell the wild acts now in progress there, and the wild 
 plots which disgrace it ? " 
 
 In truth it was a fair scene. The house or palace of Afzool Khan 
 stood somewhat apart froju other buildings, upon a slight eminence, 
 
116 TABA : 
 
 and the room tliej were in oyerlooked a large portion of tlie city to 
 the south, west, and north. Between the combined twilight and light 
 of a moon about half-full, the outlines of the city generally, and of 
 some of the most remarkable buildings, could be seen distinctly, and 
 formed a picture of great beauty. To the north, the large dome of 
 the mausoleum of Mahmood Adil Shah stood out boldly against the 
 clear grey sky, as well as the high dark masses of the King's palaces 
 in the citadel, and of that of the " Seven Stories "in particular, in 
 the windows of which lights already twinkled here and there, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 A little on the left of the palace was the massive cavalier of the 
 " Oopree Boorje," with the King's flagstaff on its summit ; below, 
 the dark lines of the fortifications, with lights gleaming from each 
 guard-room upon the bastions. Thence the eye travelled round the 
 city, resting here and there upon massive domes and slender mina- 
 rets, shining tenderly in the moon's rays, which also fell softly upon the 
 outlines of terraced houses and palaces, and upon the dark masses 
 of foliage of their gardens. Over the most populous parts of the 
 city also nearer to them, the evening smoke hovered like a thin mist, 
 catching reflection of the thousand lights and fires beneath : and a 
 hum of voices arose from thence : — otherwise, all was still around 
 them, and the broad street leading to Toorweh nearly deserted. 
 Night was fast falling, and a bright star here and there already 
 sparkled in the sky. 
 
 " Yes, it is a fair scene, sister," he continued, as she drew closer to 
 him. " Yet, even now, men are plotting villany and treachery. 
 There is no peace in it." 
 
 " No peace, brother ! " she said, echoing his words ; *' cannot 
 others be as we are — enjoying what Alia sends them without strife ? 
 Why should it not be so ? " 
 
 " Why, Zyna ? because of ambition, which, with the hot thirst it 
 begets, dries up men's hearts ; because of avarice, driving them to 
 barter kingdoms and honour for gold ; because of fraud, and deceit, 
 and lies, and profligacy. Alas, girl, where ends the catalogue ? 
 Even now I fear the evil thoughts and treacherous plots of our fair 
 city." 
 
 Zyna shuddered, and nestled closer to her brother. " Why is thy 
 speech so sad to-night, Fazil ? " she said timidly ; " does aught 
 threaten us or our friends ? " 
 
 *' Listen, sister, and judge," he returned. ^'I cannot help these 
 fancies. Ah, Zyna ! if I had one like thee to be with me always — 
 to be more to me even than thou art — perhaps the world, fair as it 
 lies there, would have few charms for me." 
 
 " She would be forgotten before a bright sword or a gallant horse,, 
 brother," replied Zyna, in a tone of raillery. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 117 
 
 *' JN'ot so, by the Propliet ! — by your bead and eyes ; no, Zyna," 
 ried her brother earnestly. *' Let snob an one come, and thou wilt 
 oce what sbe would be to me." 
 
 " Would it were so, brother ! and yet I know of no one — not one 
 as yet — whom thou couldst love like me. None of the maidens of 
 this city are worthy of thee ; no, not one, Fazil." 
 
 " Ah ! nothing less than one of the blessed houris of Paradise 
 would content thee for me," returned the young man, laughing; 
 ^' but one like thyself would quite content me, sister: Perhaps even 
 now thou hast been thinking I have some love- secret to tell thee, 
 for I have not accounted for my delay these two evenings, but love 
 there is none, dearest. JSTo — none at all," as she shook her head and 
 laughed incredulously, — " none. A graver matter, truly, if I am 
 right. Listen, Zyna, I have told thee of Kowas Khan before — my 
 friend, the Wuzeer's son " 
 
 " What of him ? " she returned, so abruptly that her tone of 
 alarm startled her brother. "Yes," she continued, correcting her- 
 self, " surely — often — dear brother, hast thou not told me of his 
 bravery when the Moghuls besieged the city ? but do not mention 
 him, else I will go away." 
 
 " Nay, go not, Zyna. I will not tease thee," he replied, " yet why 
 should I not speak of him ? Is he not a hero — a very Roostum ? 
 Is he not beautiful ? — a youth for a maiden to love, or a man to 
 make his friend ! But enough of this," for he perceived the confu- 
 sion his last words had occasioned : "to say the truth, I am anxious 
 for the whole family, and there is much cause to fear ; the Wuzeer 
 is not keeping his faith with the King. But for that, indeed ^" 
 
 " Hush, brother ! " said Zyna, again blushing, for she knew that 
 she had been sought in marriage by the Wuzeer for his son ; " may 
 God forbid evil to him or any of them ; and men have as yet spoken 
 well of him. Why should he be suspected ?" 
 
 " Alas, who can say ? " replied her brother sadly. " Who can tell 
 to what crimes pride and ambition may not urge a man ? Truly, 
 sister, it will not be marvellous if the Wuzeer, seeing the danger of 
 the Moghuls on the one^hand, of Sivaji Bhdslay on the other, and 
 knowing better than we do the divisions among our own nobles, 
 should forget his faith, and try to strike in for himself. 'Twas thus, 
 so writes the historian of honoured memory, Mahomed Kasim 
 Ferishta, that our own kingly house rose into existence, and the 
 Nizam Shahy and Kootub Shahy dynasties also ; what wonder, then, 
 that Khan Mahomed — the rich, the honoured, the powerful — should 
 be tempted to follow examples so successful and so prosperous ?" 
 
 " What ! and forget his King, who has raised him from — from -" 
 
 she could not add slavery ; "forget honours, titles, lands, wealth? 
 O brother ! " 
 
118 TABA : 
 
 "Ah, Zyna," returned Fazil, sighing, "believe me, there are few 
 minds so noble, and so humble too, as to despise power in little 
 things ; ho^ much less a position so exalted as that of monarch of 
 these noble realms. Men have already forgotten ' Rehan' the slave, 
 in 'Khan Mahomed,' the Wuzeer of Beejapoor. We know what he 
 was, we see what he is, and we can think what he might be. If he 
 is playing for the highest stake, it is a game in which his life is of 
 no account." 
 
 " I would I had not known of this, brother, from thy lips," said 
 Zyna sadly. " True, it seems to have a terrible distinctness : and 
 his son ? " 
 
 " Nay, by your head and eyes, he is pure, Zyna. My own dear 
 friend," he exclaimed, " I would answer for him with my life. As 
 for the rest, 'tis but suspicion as yet. Whatever the matter I know 
 of may lead to, I am resolved to see the last of it. Listen. 
 
 " Last evening I was coming from the Durbar, and, dismissing 
 the men who were with me, I rode to some open ground to exercise 
 my horse. It is not far from the King's palace at Toorweh : and to 
 get there I proceeded through the outskirts of the city, which lead 
 to the quarter of the lower orders of the people. I had not ridden 
 far when I met the palankeen of the King's secretary, attended by 
 some horsemen. It seemed strange to meet him there, because, 
 when I left the audience hall, he seemed immersed in business. So 
 I rode up towards it with the intention of saluting him again, 
 when he shut the door as it were carelessly, but, as I thought, with 
 an evident desire not to be seen : this stimulated my curiosity. I 
 had no pretence for following him, only there happened to be an 
 acquaintance, who was in command of his escort, and who called 
 me. I joined him, unobserved by the Meerza, and accompanied him 
 under pretence of friendly chat. By-and-by, as the better part of 
 the town grew more distant, I asked him banteringly what had 
 brought so great a person as the King's Meerza into so mean a 
 quarter, and whether I might see the end of the adventure ; and 
 looking about him — to be sure the rest of the escort were out of 
 hearing — he told me that, after leaving the court, the Meerza had 
 first gone to a respectable Hindu house in another quarter and 
 remained there some time ; and when he came out he was attended 
 to the door by a Hindu soldier, who bade him depart, and told him 
 not to forget the shop of Rama of Ashtee, in the ' kullal's ' quarter, 
 and Tannajee Maloosray. Thence a man was sent as guide to 
 another house, and he showed him to me then running with the 
 bearers before the palankeen. ' So I can only suppose it is some 
 work of the King's,' added my friend, ' with which we cavaliers have 
 nothing to do.' I thought otherwise, for Tannajee's name is famous j 
 and we rode on. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 119 
 
 " After some time tlie guide stopped at the door of a decent 
 house, which I think was a Jnngum's Mutt. The Meerza did not 
 get out of his palankeen, and a man came to the doorway and began 
 to speak in Persian, after haying looked round suspiciously at all of 
 us. I shall not forget the man, Zyna, for he had piercing grey eyes 
 and a hooked nose. I suppose he thought no one could understand 
 liim, for he did not speak low. Still, as his head was partly inside 
 the door of the secretary's palankeen, I could not hear all, and could 
 only approach, indeed, on pretence of my horse being restless. I 
 heard, however, the man's direction to the secretary, a Hindu 
 temple of Bhowani, in the plain on the east of the fort, where papers 
 were to be shown at midnight, and the Wuzeer's name was 
 mentioned. Thither I will go, ' Inshalla ! ' to-night. I can disguise 
 myself, and my speech is Mahratta or Canarese, as I please, and 
 Bulwunt Rao goes with me." 
 
 " Go not, my precious brother," said Zyna, interrupting him ; 
 " there must be danger among these plotters. E/Cmember what thou 
 art to us all, Fazil." 
 
 " If my love were not what it is for Khan Mahomed's son," he 
 replied, "I would not hazard this matter; but we, thy father and 
 myself, owe the Wuzeer many favours, and I should hold myself 
 false did I hesitate to peril something in their cause. Even thou, 
 Zyna, hast not forgotten how Kowas Khan and our brave Bulwunt 
 Rao fought over me when I had been stricken down in the Friday's 
 fight with the Moghuls, and but for them I had perished. Yes, sister, 
 I must go." 
 
 " Go ? whither, son ? " said Afzool Khan, whose entrance had not 
 been observed by either ; " whither wouldst thou go, and for what ? " 
 
 " Father ! " uttered both at the same moment, and, rising, saluted 
 him reverently. 
 
 "Be seated, my children," he said; " I too will join you. Tour 
 mother hath not been here ? " 
 
 The allusion made was to their father's second wife, whom he 
 had married after the mother of his children died, and who received 
 from them all the honour and respect, if not the tender love, of 
 their real mother. Her name was Lurlee, to which her title of 
 Khanum being added, she was known among her friends and de- 
 pendants as Lurlee Khanum ; and she will appear presently in her 
 proper person. 
 
 " No, father," replied Zyna, " she was going to cook something 
 for you, and had something to do with her tables ; and said that 
 there was something going to happen, for that Mars and the moon, 
 or stay — really I don't know, father, how it was — I forget." 
 
 " Ah," returned her father, smihng, " bicharee — poor thing ! — 
 those stars are a sad trouble to her. But what art thou going to do, 
 son?" 
 
120 , TAEA : 
 
 " Tell him all you have told me, brother," said Zyna. 
 
 Fazil recapitulated what he had told his sister, and finding his 
 father interested, again stated his intention o£ following np the 
 secret, whatever it might be. 
 
 " Go, mj son," said the old Khan, " I cannot gainsay thee in this 
 matter. If we can protect Khan Mahomed or keep evil from his 
 house, or if any of these vile plots can be traced to those concerned 
 in them, a few sharp examples may deter others. But why not take 
 some of the Paegah ? those are dangerous quarters by night." 
 
 " Impossible, father, they are too wary ; and Bulwunt Rao says 
 there will be spies and scouts watching everywhere. So we are 
 better alone, and with your leave, father, I go to prepare myself." 
 
 Afzool Khan opened the casement, and looked out. He partly 
 leaned out of the window, and appeared to be gazing abstractedly 
 over the city. The young moon was now low in the sky, and the 
 stars shone out more brilliantly than before ; but clouds were 
 gathering fast in the south-west, which, from the lightning flashing 
 about their tops, boded a storm. As yet, however, the gentle light 
 of the moon pervaded all, glinting from the bright gilded pinnacles 
 of domes and minarets, and resting tenderly upon the white terraces, 
 walls, and projecting oriels of houses near him — upon the tapering 
 minarets of his own private mosque, and the heavy but graceful 
 foliage that hung about them. 
 
 " It is a type of what is coming," thought the Khan — "here the 
 moonlight only partially dispelling the gloom, which will increase ; 
 there heavy night- clouds already threatening. Even so with our 
 fair kingdom : the tempest of sorrow may break over us. We 
 cannot stop it, but we may at least endure the trial, and be true to 
 our salt." 
 
 He was long silent, and the beads which he had removed from 
 his wrist were passing rapidly through his fingers, while his lips 
 m.oved as though in prayer. Zyna dared not speak, yet he looked at 
 her lovingly as his lips still moved, and passing his arm round her, 
 drew her to him. Perhaps with that embrace more tender thoughts 
 came into his heart, some memories that were sad yet grateful. 
 
 " There will be no danger, Zyna," he said assuringly, as he felt 
 her trembling, and guessed her thoughts ; " Fazil and Bulwunt Rao 
 are both wary. The moon, too, is setting, and it will be dark, 
 perhaps raining. He comes, daughter," continued the Khan, as 
 FaziFs foot was heard on the stairs ; " let us look at him." 
 
 As he spoke, Fazil entered the room and made the Hindu salutation 
 of reverence to his father. " Should I be known as your son, father ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Nemmo ISTarrayen Baba," cried Afzool Khan, laughing, and re- 
 turning the salutation in the same style. " If thou knowest thyself, 
 it is more than I can say of thee." 
 
A MA HE ATT A TALE. 121 
 
 The disguise was indeed perfect. Fazil was naked to the waist, 
 and a coarse cloth of some length, which might serve as a sheet if 
 unwound, was crossed npon his shoulders and chest in thick folds. 
 A long scarf of thick soft muslin was tied about his loins, leaving 
 his muscular arms bare and free. On his chest and about his neck 
 was a necklace, consisting of several heavy rows of large wooden 
 beads, which, with the cloth, might turn a sword-cut, while both 
 served to protect him from the damp night wind. About his head 
 was a turban of coarse cloth, and a strip of finer material, passing 
 under his chin, covered his mouth and eyes, and was tied in a knot 
 above his turban, leaving two hood ends hanging down on each side. 
 His face was smeared with white earth, and above Jais nose the 
 broad trident of Krishna was painted in white and red, cover- 
 ing nearly the whole of his eyebrows and forehead. The loose 
 Mahomedan drawers had been changed for a Hindu waistcloth, or 
 *' punja," tied tightly about him, and reaching barely to his knee ; 
 while the ends were rolled up, leaving his legs and most part of his 
 thighs bare, which, with his arms, were covered with brown earth 
 to subdue the fairness of the skin. The whole of his clothes were of 
 one colour, a deep reddish brown, which is called " bhugwa," and is 
 the sacred and distinctive colour of all religious devotees. At his 
 back hung a broad black shield with steel bosses upon it, and he 
 held in his hand a sabre with a plain steel hilt and black scabbard, 
 which his father recognized as a favourite weapon. Nothing could 
 have been better suited for his guise than the whole equipment, nor 
 was there anything left to desire in its perfect adaptation to resist- 
 ance or flight, should either be necessary. 
 
 " Bulwunt waits for me in the garden, and I go. Thy blessing, 
 my father," said Fazil, stooping forward. 
 
 " Go. May Alia, and the saints, and the holy Emaon Zamin pro- 
 tect thee ! " said the Khan, rising, and placing his hands tenderly on 
 his son's head. " Gro, and return victorious ! " 
 
 '* Ameen ! ameen ! " (amen !) sighed Zyna, for her heart was with 
 her brother, as he turned to depart upon his perhaps perilous mission. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 "You have not stayed long, Meah, after all," cried the cheery voice 
 of Bulwunt Rao, as he saw his young master approaching the place 
 of meeting, a large peepul tree, which stood at a back entrance to 
 the garden. ''And you are as good as your w^ord. I thought there 
 might be some lecture from ' the Mastu,' and some remonstrances 
 from the Khanum, and possibly that the stars were not to be 
 overcome ; but all seems to have gone well. Did they know you ?" 
 
122 TABA : 
 
 " My sister seemed rather frightened as she saw me, and shrank 
 back, but my father declared me perfect, and bade me God-speed," 
 replied Fazil ; " but look over me once more : dark as it is, it might 
 be a matter of life or death if we were discovered." 
 
 " Discovered, Meah ! 'No, trust me for that ! " replied Bulwunt, 
 " Only keep that conrtly tongue of yours quiet, or if you speak at 
 all, let it be in Canara, which somehow suits you better than our soft 
 Mahratta, and let it be as broad as you can make it. Leave the rest 
 to me. 'Mahrattas knowMahrattas,' is one of our common proverbs, 
 not untrue either. No salaams, Meah ! If there be occasion to salute 
 any one, you know the mode. So — join your hands and thumbs 
 together, carrj^ them up to your nose. There, your thumbs along the 
 
 nose — good. Now a gentle inclination of the head, very little 
 
 Shabash ! that was excellent. Take care that no Bundagee or 
 Salaam Alyek — or other Moslem salutation escape you : if you have 
 need, a soft * Numuscar Maharaj,' or if we meet a Gosai, ' Nemmo 
 Narrayen Bawa ! ' Or, better than all — why risk anything ? keep a 
 silent tongue, and leave me to talk." 
 
 " Nay, not so fast, friend," cried the young Khan, smiling at his 
 follower's earnestness, "fear not for me; I know enough of the 
 customs of the dress I wear to bear me out if need be, and I would 
 fain have my tongue as my hands are — at liberty. No ganja, I 
 hope, since your brain is clear." 
 
 " By your head and eyes, no, Meah, I have only drunk water since 
 you first called me," he replied earnestly; "look here," and he 
 executed one^ of the most difficult of the movements which ac- 
 companied his sword exercise, — " will that do ? " 
 
 " Let us on then, friend, in the name of all the saints, for we have 
 enough to do ere morning, and it is some distance to the temple." 
 
 "Nearly a coss, Meah, and we have to pass some bad places 
 beyond the deer park. Come, let nothing induce you to enter into a 
 brawl, or notice insult, or we shall fail. If we are attacked, we can 
 strike in return. Come ! " 
 
 So saying, they moved on rapidly and silently to the Hindu 
 temple which Bulwunt Bao knew of. Their appearance — for both 
 were attired as nearly as possible alike, except that Bulwunt had 
 concealed more of his face than his companion — was too common and 
 unobtrusive to attract attention, and they passed unnoticed through 
 the respectable portions of the city, meeting, however, few passers 
 in the now dark and deserted streets. 
 
 Passing the wall of the deer park, and skirting the walls and 
 glacis of the citadel, patches of open rocky ground succeeded, where 
 a few sleepless asses picked up a scanty night meal, and the house- 
 less dogs of the city snarled and fought over the carrion carcases of 
 cattle, or the offal which had been thrown out there, or disputed 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 123^ 
 
 their half -picked bones with troops of jackals. Now they met men 
 at intervals, who, with muffled faces and scarcely concealed weapons, 
 watched for unwary single passengers, from whom by threat or 
 violence they might be able to extort the means of temporary de- 
 bauchery. Some such looked scowlingly upon the friends, and 
 sometimes even advanced upon them ; but seeing at a nearer glance 
 no hope of anything but hard blows, passed them by unheeded. 
 
 " Many a good fellow has had an end of him made hereabouts," 
 said Bulwunt in a low voice, as they passed a more conspicuous 
 group than usual, who seemed inclined to dispute the way with 
 them. " How much would there be found of a man by morning, to 
 ascertain what he had been in life, if his body were thrown upon 
 one of those heaps of carrion, which the hyenas, dogs, and jackals 
 are fighting over? Do you not hear them yelling? — Bah! that 
 would be an ugly fate, and that is why I seldom venture into this 
 quarter by night.'* 
 
 " Then you come sometimes ? " 
 
 "Why not, Meah? Are there not adventures enough for those 
 who seek them ? I tell thee, many a young noble, ay, and old one 
 too, that I could name, come here afte^ dark and amuse themselves 
 gaily for an hour or two ; but thou art not of that sort, Meah ; else- 
 I had brought thee long ago." 
 
 " And that is the quarter yonder, I suppose," said the young man, 
 " above which the light gleams brightly." 
 
 " You are right, Meah ; a few minutes more and we enter it." 
 
 A scene it was of coarse open profligacy. Shops of a low character 
 for the sale of spirits were everywhere open, filled with flaming 
 lamps, or before which stood large iron cressets filled with cotton 
 seed soaked in oil, that burned brightly, sending forth a thick ropy 
 smoke, and showing groups of men, women, and children too, sitting 
 on the ground, drinking the hot new liquor, or the more rapidly 
 intoxicating juice of the date palm-tree ; which, contained in large 
 earthen jars, was being dispensed by ladlesful to people clustered 
 around them. All this part resounded with obscene abuse, and 
 songs, and violent wrangling. In one group two men had drawn 
 their daggers, and were with difficulty held back by women hanging 
 about them. In another place, two women had hold of each other's 
 hair, and were beating and scratching each other with their dis- 
 engaged hands. 
 
 They passed through all ; many a gibe and coarse invitation 
 familiar to Bulwunt Rao, who, had he been alone, could not have 
 resisted them, followed them from men and women. But he was 
 for the time steady, checked by the presence of his young chief, and 
 with the fierce desire of meeting his hereditary enemy burning 
 at his heart. They were now near the place in regard to which 
 
124 TABA 
 
 Bulwunt tliouglit lie could not be mistaken. A little further there 
 was a Hindu temple gaily decked out with white and orange- 
 coloured banners ; people were singing evening hymns within it, 
 and their voices rose even above the hoarse murmur of the crowd, 
 and there was a clash of cymbals accompanying them. Bulwunt 
 stopped, and laid his hand on his companion's arm. 
 
 " That is the temple," he said, " by which I know the kullal's, and 
 that is where we shall meet Tannajee, if at all. That is Kama of 
 Ashtee's shop across the street." 
 
 *' And is the other temple far off ? " asked Fazil. 
 
 " Not now ; a few more turns down the back lanes yonder, and 
 we^ shall find it among the tamarind trees in the plain. We will go 
 there at once." 
 
 Bulwunt knew the place perfectly. A quiet secluded spot, where 
 often, stupid from the effects of ganja, or drink, he had gone to 
 sleep off the effects before he went home. A place where one or two 
 Jogis, or Gosais, or Sunniasis of ascetic orders, usually put up, or 
 travellers sometimes going eastwards, who had to be clear of the city 
 before dawn. The grove, too, was a favourite place for encampment, 
 and droves of Brinjarries, oi*" other public carriers, halted there in 
 fair weather. Now, however, it was quite vacant, and the natural 
 gloom of the place was deepened by the darkness of the night, while 
 the glare to which their eyes had been exposed, caused it to seem 
 more gloomy still. 
 
 "An evil-looking place, friend, at this hour," said Fazil. 
 
 "Ay, Meah, dark enough ; yet better than the light we have left 
 yonder," he replied, pausing and looking back to where the glare of 
 the kullal's quarter rose into the dark night air above the houses ;■ — 
 " better than that. Yet it is a strange place to come to at night, 
 unless there be any one here. Be cautious, Meah, I will look in." . 
 
 The temple was a small one, upon a low basement; the high 
 conical roof or steeple could hardly be traced among the heavy 
 foliage that enveloped it. There was a court around it, the wall of 
 which was not so high on one side but that a man standing on tip- 
 toe might look over it ; and as Fazil was about to do so, Bulwunt 
 Rao pulled him back. 
 
 "For your life, no," he whispered, "some one is there. I saw 
 the flicker of a fire yonder ; come round to the back of the verandah. 
 I know of a hole in the wall which is not filled up." 
 
 Fazil followed. His companion was right. A hole had been left 
 in the wall for light or air, and some loose stones and bricks stuffed 
 into it. Just enough aperture remained for both to see plainly what 
 was therein. On two sides of the small court, opposite to the 
 temple, was a terraced building roughly built, the pillars support- 
 ing the clay roof being of rudely-hewn timber. The basement was 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 125^ 
 
 level with that of the temple, and ascended by three low steps in 
 the centre. Three persons were sitting on the floor near the embers 
 of a fire ; two enveloped in white sheets, which were drawn over 
 their heads, and partly over their faces ; they might be Brahmnns, 
 who had been worshipping at the temple. The other was a " Jogi," 
 or ascetic, who, in all his majesty of dirt and ashes — his hair matted 
 and twisted abont his head like a turban, the ends of a long grizzly 
 beard tucked over his ears, and naked to the waist — sat cross-legged 
 upon a deer's skin before the embers, which cast a dull and flicker- 
 ing light upon his naked body. 
 
 Occasionally, with his right hand, he took ashes from the fire and 
 rubbed them over his broad hairy chest and sinewy arms, and 
 occasionally over his face, telling his beads the while with his left. 
 None of the men spoke. Could they be the persons of whom they 
 were in search ? 
 
 "I fear we are wrong, Bulwunt," whispered Fazil, "these must, 
 be Brahmuns with that Jogi." 
 
 "I know of no other temple, Meah," returned Bulwunt; "but 
 wait here, I will go round to the door and question them." 
 
 " Be careful, friend ; I like not the look of the old Jogi ; be care- 
 ful," inten-upted Fazil." 
 
 "Nay, I am not going to quarrel with him," continued Bulwunt 
 Rao; "but watch what they do. You will see all their faces if 
 they turn to me." And with cautious steps he moved in. 
 
 The door of the temple was in front. Bulwunt had seen it was 
 partially opened when they arrived. Fazil heard it creak on its 
 hinges as Bulwunt opened it, and saw him emerge from behind the 
 basement of the temple ; and amidst a rough cry of " who comes ? " 
 "who art thou? " from the three persons, walk slowly and firmly 
 up to the basement of the verandah, and make the customary 
 reverential salutation. 
 
 "Thou art a bold fellow," exclaimed one of the men covered 
 with a sheet, who stood up, looking at Bulwunt from head to foot, 
 " to intrude upon respectable people unbidden. A Gosai, too, whence 
 art thou ? " 
 
 " I am a poor disciple of Amrut Geer, of KuUianee, if ye know 
 the town," answered Bulwunt, deferentially ; " and they call me 
 Poorungeer. I have come to the city on business, and have tra- 
 velled far to-day. I often put up here, and, as I saw hghts, I entered, 
 in the hope of shelter for the night. It will rain presently, and, with 
 your permission, I will take a drink of water and rest here." " 
 
 "There is plenty of water in the well without," returned the 
 man sulkily ; " and there are the iron bucket and cord — take them 
 and begone. There are a thousand Gosain's Mutts in Beejapoor, 
 why shouldst thou stay here ? — ^begone ! " 
 
126 TABA 
 
 " Nay, be not inhospitable, O Bawa ! " returned Balwunt. "I 
 am weary and footsore ; it is a long way to tbe only Mutt, I know, 
 •and it is not safe for a man alone to pass the plain at night." 
 
 " I tell thee begone," said the Jogi ; " there is no room for thee 
 here ; begone, else we will tnrn thee out." 
 
 "Direct me, then, to a resting-place, good sirs," replied Bulwunt. 
 ^' I would give no offence ; I pray ye be not angry. " I^ay,*' he 
 continued, observing a gesture of impatience ; " behold, I am 
 gone. I would not be unwelcome. Only say, O Jogi, what this 
 temple is called ? " 
 
 " This is the temple of Toolja Devi, and dedicated to the Holy 
 Mother at Tooljapoor," replied the man. "If thou hast need to 
 visit it, come to-morrow, and thou wilt see the image. Depart now, 
 or these worthy men may be angry. Thou hast interrupted already 
 a discourse on the mysteries " 
 
 " Which would have benefited me, Bawa, also. I shall not 
 forget their inhospitality. Now I depart." And saluting the Jogi, 
 who lifted his hand to his head, and staring fixedly at the others, 
 whose faces were plainly visible by the light of the fire, which had 
 blazed up, Bulwunt Rao left them. 
 
 " Listen, Meah," whispered Bulwunt to Fazil, as he rejoined him. 
 " These are the people, no doubt ; there are some holes in the wall 
 behind them, which I saw when within ; come round to them, we 
 shall see and hear better, and can listen to the old Jogi's discourse 
 on the mysteries ; no doubt it will be edifying. The old Jogi is 
 some one, I think, in disguise, but it is well done. Come, and tread 
 softly." 
 
 The light tread of their naked feet was not heard amidst the 
 rustling of the trees above ; and, as Bulwunt had said, there were 
 several holes in the wall which enabled them to see and hear per- 
 fectly, except when the conversation was carried on in the lowest 
 whispers. They were, however, on the highest side of the court wall. 
 
 "We are right now," whispered Fazil; " but have the weapons 
 ready in case of need. I like not the Jogi nor his friends." 
 
 The inmates of the little building were silent for some time, and 
 one of them, who had kept his face concealed, at length lay down, 
 and drew his sheet over him. The other two* smoked at intervals. 
 Now one, now the other, lighting the rude cocoa-nut hooka with 
 embers from the fire before them. 
 
 " Didst thou know that lad, Pahar Singh — that Gosai ? " asked 
 his companion. " Methinks he was more than he seemed. I know 
 most of that old robber Amrut Greer's cheylas, too, but not him ; 
 he may be a new one perhaps. Only I wish I had not seen him ; 
 there was an evil eye in his head;" and the speaker's shoulders 
 twitched as though a sHght shudder had passed through him. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 127 
 
 "What dost thou care about evil eyes, Maun Singh?" replied 
 the Jogi, laughing. " I know not the man, and why should he 
 trouble thee, brother? Depend upon it he was no more than he 
 seemed, else why should he have named Amrut Geer of Tooljapoor ? 
 Why art thou thus suspicious ? " And he again apphed himself to 
 the hooka, whose bubbling rattle rang through the building. 
 
 " Nay, it does not signify, only one does not like to be intruded 
 upon, that's all. I had as well shut the door of the temple, brother." 
 
 " Do not bolt it," cried the Jogi; " they will be here soon," as 
 the man went and closed it ; then returned, and with another shrug 
 or shiver, lay down, when both relapsed into silence. 
 
 "Pahar Singh! " whispered Balwunt to the young Khan; "the 
 robber, murderer, rebel, what you please. The man after whom we 
 wandered so long last year. Ah, 'tis a rare plot, Meah, if such be 
 the instruments." 
 
 " Hush ! " said Fazil ; " they are speaking again. Listen ! " 
 
 " Where did you get those papers, O Toolsee Das ? " asked Pahar 
 Singh of the man who had been lying down. " What, hast thou 
 been asleep ? Tell me again, lest I make a mistake." 
 
 "Not I, please your Highness," replied the person addressed, 
 raising himself upon his arm ; " but if you talk in that gibberish 
 language of your country, what am I to do ? It is dull work 
 waiting when one's eyes are heavy with sleep, and I am not rested 
 from that fearful ride." 
 
 " Ha, ha, ha ! " laughed Pahar Singh ; " that ride, Lalla ! O 
 man ! it was but a child's ride after all, only forty coss. You will 
 be lively enough by-and-by. ISTow, if you can speak without lying, 
 tell me truly, are those papers genuine or not ? " 
 
 "My lord," replied the Lalla, sitting up; "they who come will 
 best know that. If they had not been genuine they would not 
 have been worth the stealing, nor these long journeys, to which 
 your servant is not accustomed, nor the risk of being compared 
 with original documents. I told my lord this before, and " 
 
 "True, Lalla," said Pahar Singh, interrupting him; "but one 
 likes to hear a thing over again when it is pleasant. Ha, ha ! when 
 it is pleasant, you know " 
 
 " When the honour of great houses is at stake we Mutsuddees 
 have to be proportionably careful," returned the Lalla pompously ; 
 " and when your poor servant saw what these were, you see — my 
 consideration for the king — for this state — may it flourish a 
 thousand years — was great, and I — I, ahem — brought them 
 away " 
 
 " You mean you stole them, Lalla ? Out with the truth, s'ood ^ 
 fellow." 
 
 " Well, sir, if you don't like my words. Yes, I stole them, and it 
 
128 TAEA : 
 
 was a blessed chance whicli has enabled me to tnm them to such good 
 account," said the Lalla, smiling blandlj. " Excellent indeed, my 
 lord ; and I," continued the Lalla, rubbing his hands, " ha ! ha ! mj 
 lord, and I " 
 
 " Ha! ha ! ha ! " responded Pahar Singh, interi'upting him with 
 a coarse laugh. " We shall see. No blood in that robbery. Maun 
 Singh. Ours are seldom so neatly done, I think ; but the Lalla is a 
 master of his craft. Well, and if they are genuine, you will have a 
 rich reward. O, much money ; gold perhaps, who knows ? and half 
 is mine for not cutting that lying coward throat of yours, or hanging 
 you like a dog, Lallajee." 
 
 "N'oble prince, I have not forgotten the agreement, nor my lord's 
 hospitality," returned the Lalla, joining his hands. 
 
 " Ah, that is well," returned Pahar Singh grimly. '' One should 
 not forget obligations, and they are only five days old. By your 
 child's head. Maun Singh, he had a narrow escape, only for the boy 
 and thee. Ah, it was rare fun. A coward — a peculiar coward! 
 He did not think he should live, and he told us of the papers ; only 
 for that, they would have gone into the river with his carcase. Ah, 
 yes ; it was well done. What if they are false, O Lalla, and we have 
 been brought so far in vain ! O man, think of that." 
 
 "Yes, think of that, Lallajee," returned Maun Singh, turning 
 himself lazily round to speak. " There are few like thee who are 
 made guests of, and fed instead of becoming food. Ha, ha, ha I art 
 thou not afraid ? " 
 
 " My lords, I can say no more. 1 have told you all I can, and the 
 rest is in their hands who come," said the Lalla, humbly putting up 
 his hands to his nose. In his heart, however, the man was chuckling 
 secretly. He thought those who were to come would be attended 
 by a retinue, and he purposed to watch his opportunity and denounce 
 the robber, who would be seized on the bare mention of his name ; 
 and when he, Toolsee Das, should not only get the price of the papers, 
 but, he felt sure, be rewarded for having enticed so wary a robber 
 into a trap. The Lalla, therefore, endured the raillery and coarse 
 abuse expended upon him with a peculiarly grira satisfaction. 
 
 " Yes, a cowardly knave, by your eyes, Maun Singh," continued 
 Pahar Singh, while both were laughing heartily. " Ah, how he 
 begged for life I And we have fed him well since too, though I am 
 not sure that I did right in bringing him here, after all. I think I 
 ought to have sent thee after thine ancestors, Lalla ! " 
 
 " I doubt not, valiant sir, that your worship hath slain many of 
 the King's enemies," said the Lalla, trembling in spite of himself, 
 but inwardly determining to show no mercy, " and you are pleased 
 to be merry." 
 
 " Dog, if thou hast deceived me, and brought me fifty coss for 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 129 
 
 nothing, to save thy miserable life," said Pahar Singh, fiercely, " thou 
 shalt not escape me twice. Hark ! what is that at the door ? " for 
 it was now shaken violently; "they are come, Mann Singh. Re- 
 member, Lalla, I am no Pahar Singh now, or thou diest on the spot. 
 See what I have for thee here," and he showed the shining naked 
 blade of a sword concealed under the ashes. " Enough, don't be 
 frightened, only be discreet. Go, Maun Singh, brother, open the 
 wicket quickly," for those without again shook it impatiently. " Two 
 are to come, only the two ; there might be treachery with more. 
 But ho, ho, ho ! Pahar Singh is a match for ten, is he not ? Now, 
 see thou speakest the truth, O Lalla," he continued ; " and my vows 
 for the temple, and the well, they are not to be forgotten — nor — the 
 feeding — five thousand Brahmuns. Forget not this on thy life. 
 I am thy Gooroo, teaching thee ' the mysteries.' " 
 
 These words came from him, jerked out, as it were, by morsels, 
 during the brief interval that elapsed before those he expected 
 arrived ; and which he employed in rubbing additional handfuls of 
 ashes from the edges of the fire upon his face, body, and limbs, so as 
 to render his disguise more complete, and in heaping up ashes on 
 his sword, the hilt of which lay towards him, ready for action. As 
 he finished, he took a string of wooden beads from his hair, and 
 settled himself on his heels, in an attitude of austere devotion ; for, 
 after a brief parley at the gate, steps were heard advancing, and the 
 Lalla, though his heart sank within him at seeing only two persons 
 accompanying Maun Singh, rose as they ascended the steps of the 
 basement, and were clearly visible by the light of the fire, which 
 Pahar Singh had caused to bum brightly. 
 
 Fazil Khan's heart beat fast as he saw that one of the persons who 
 ascended first was the King's secretary, his most trustworthy and 
 confidential servant. His handsome, grave, Persian face, and long 
 grey beard, with the lameness he was knovru by, which resulted from 
 a wound, were unmistakable. The other, who had his face partly 
 concealed, and who might be taken for an ordinary attendant to the 
 Secretary, seemed nowise remarkable ; but, as the pair sat down be- 
 fore him, and this person removed one fold of the scarf about his face 
 — though he kept his mouth and nose still covered, as if to exclude 
 the night air — the large sad eyes of the young King were plainly 
 visible. 
 
 Fazil beheld him with an intensity of wondering interest, which it 
 is impossible to describe, and fairly panted with excitement. " If he 
 had known whom he was to meet here," he thought, " he would not 
 have exposed himself to this risk : Alia and the Prophet have sent 
 us." And as this escaped him, partly interjectionally and partly in 
 devout prayer, the young Khan seemed to swell with the conscious- 
 ness that his King might owe his safety, nay, even life, to them. 
 
130 TABA : 
 
 The Secretary was a yeteran soldier, but lie was nnarmed, except a 
 small knife-dagger in his girdle. Fazil, therefore, loosened his sword 
 in its sheath. "Be ready," he whispered to his companion, who 
 pressed his hand silently, in acknowledgment of the caution. Bnl- 
 wnnt had evidently not recognized the King ; indeed, it was well 
 perhaps that he could not see the face, or have his suspicions 
 awakened : he might not have preserved the same composure as his 
 young master. 
 
 CHAPTEH XXI. 
 
 The silence was becoming oppressive, though only of a few moments' 
 duration, when Fazil observed the Jogi twitch the sleeve of the 
 Lalla's garment as a sign to begin. Though it had cost him a pang 
 to think he had no present hope of securing the robber, Toolsee Das, 
 in truth, was pretty much at his ease. The position and rank of the 
 King's secretary were unequivocal ; who the other person might be, 
 he could not conjecture — perhaps an assistant, perhaps a son — he 
 might be either. There was something, certainly, in the look of those 
 great black eyes, which was uncommon ; but they gave no response 
 to the Lalla's rapid but curious investigation of them : they could 
 not be fathomed at a glance. 
 
 There was nothing in the demeanour of either of the persons 
 before him to excite personal apprehension ; and the Lalla was quite 
 sure that Pahar Singh would not give him up, or the papers either, 
 without an equivalent in money ; and as he could not have Pahar 
 Singh taken, it was assuring to think that he need not be appre- 
 hended himself, for it was quite certain that the robber would get 
 more for the secret here than if he and the papers had been conveyed 
 to the Imperial camp. There, a short questioning, and the execu- 
 tioner would be sure ; and the Lalla shuddei;ed for an instant at the 
 thought of what would have followed. Here, as one who could give 
 information of the enemy, and who could disclose state counsels, to 
 what might he not aspire ? If the people and their language were 
 barbarous in northern estimation, yet he had seen enough of the city 
 to be satisfied of its beauty ; and were not many of the northern 
 people already settling among the Dekhanies ? 
 
 Such thoughts were flashing rapidly through the Lalla's mind — 
 far more rapidly than we can write them — when he felt the sudden 
 twitch we have already mentioned : he joined his hands together, 
 and began, in a mincing accent, some of those courtly Persian phrases 
 of complimentary welcome, common to the Mahomedans of the north, 
 and which we need not repeat. The Secretary, however, was not in 
 a mood to endure them. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 131 
 
 "Peace, Lallajee!" lie said; "we are rougher people here than 
 those from whom you have brought these idle compliments, and you 
 can keep them till you get back. Now to business — do not detain 
 us." 
 
 " Ah, yes. My lord desired to see some letters of which I spoke 
 to him," he replied ; " some that I mentioned yesterday." 
 
 " It is therefore that I have come, and it will be well if they can 
 be produced. You have higgled for them overmuch, good fellow," 
 replied the Secretary, curtly. 
 
 "ISTay, if my lord regrets," said the Lalla, "there is no need to 
 press the matter further. Baba ! " he continued to the pretended 
 Jogi, "thou canst burn them in the fire there, only perhaps the 
 King " 
 
 "Not so fast, good sir," said the Meerza, speaking more blandly. 
 " I remember all that has passed between us and that valiant gentle- 
 man yonder," and he pointed to Maun Singh, "and I am willing to 
 perform my part of the bargain. And is this the Gooroo of whom 
 ye spoke? " 
 
 " Sir, it is," replied the Lalla. " A holy man — one unused to the ways 
 of the world, and who travels from shrine to shrine in the performance 
 of sacred vows. Such were the Rishis ; such are those from whom holy 
 actions emanate ; and such are the virtuous Jogis of the present day, 
 of whom my Grooroo is a noble example. He, desiring the welfare of 
 the Shah — may his splendour increase, and live for ever ! — sent me to 
 inform you, O fountain of eloquence and discretion ! that they were 
 in existence " Here the Jogi gave another twitch of interrup- 
 tion, and a look, with a low growl, which the Lalla well understood, 
 and continued — 
 
 " You see, noble sirs, he hath already su:ffered the interruption of 
 his devotional abstraction, and is uneasy ; for he never speaks unless 
 to bless his disciples, or removes his eyes from the end of his nose : in 
 continuing which, and repeating to himself holy texts and spells of 
 wonderful power, he is pre-eminent in absorption of his faculties. So 
 my lord will excuse him, and will remember the condition attached 
 to the perusal of the papers." 
 
 "The gold, the gold — the money first ! " growled the Jogi. " My 
 son, my vow, my vow ! " 
 
 " Noble sirs," continued the Lalla in a deprecatory whine to both, 
 which appeared perfectly natural, as he looked from one to the other, 
 with his hands joined, "you must pardon him; he is not a man of 
 courts or of the world, but of temples, and holy shrines, and ascetic 
 exercises ; and some time ago he made a vow to build a temple on a 
 spot where he had an ecstatic vision of heaven, and to dig a well, and 
 feed five thousand Brahmuns, and to pass the remainder of his days 
 in assisting poor travellers and in holy contemplation. A holy man, 
 
132 TABA : 
 
 therefore, noble gentlemen, and lie is anxious about tbe gold, not as 
 filthy lucre, but for the sake of the temple and the well." 
 
 " Peace 1 " interrupted the Meerza. " What, in the name of the 
 Shytan, are the well and the temple to us ? Let us get up and 
 depart, Sahib," he said to his companion, " they have no papers ; 
 this is but a scheme to raise money. I like them not, my lord," 
 he added in a whisper, " and bitterly do I regret having brought you 
 here unarmed and unattended. May God and the Prophet take us 
 safe hence ! " 
 
 The Lalla was not watching their faces in vain ; he felt that he had 
 gone far enough ; and a fresh scowl from Pahar Singh, which was 
 not to be mistaken : and his action, as he turned up a corner of the 
 deerskin on which he sat, exhibiting a small red satin bag which 
 might contain papers, assured the Lalla that he need not delay 
 longer. 
 
 "Nay, my lords, be not impatient," he said blandly. "When was 
 — ^he, he ! — business of importance ever well done in a hurry ? Be- 
 hold!" added the Lalla, taking up the bag, "here are the papers 
 which the holy father has kept safely for me beneath his deer's hide. 
 Have I your permission to open them, Baba ? " 
 
 " Open, and be quick," was the short answer of the Jogi. 
 
 " Simply then, noble sirs," continued the obsequious Lalla, taking 
 some Persian letters out of the bag, " here they are ; and if either of ye 
 know the handwriting, the signature, or the seals of Khan Mahomed, 
 Wuzeer of Beejapoor, he will, Inshalla ! be able to recognize them. 
 I do not know them myself, but that makes no difference ; they are 
 no forgeries. If you, my lord," he added to the Meerza, " know them, 
 you will find that your poor servant has spoken the truth. Look at 
 them carefully." 
 
 The Meerza received the packet with trembling hands, but he said 
 firmly, " Thou knowest the penalty thou hast incurred if these be 
 forged; and if a slave like thee shouldst have dared to question 
 falsely the honour of one so exalted as the Wuzeer, beware ! " 
 
 " I know — I know, O most exalted and worthy sir ! " replied the 
 Lalla, humbly but confidently shutting his eyes, folding his hands 
 upon his breast, and bowing his head over them ; " your worship told 
 me before it would be death. But it will not be so. O no ! In your 
 poor slave's destiny is written favour and advancement at your hands,, 
 and his planets are in a fortunate conjunction." 
 
 '' I would hang him to the highest tree in Beejapoor, to the top- 
 most branch of the Groruk Imlee, to feed the crows and kites for a 
 week. What a rascal he is, Meah! " whispered Bulwunt. 
 
 " Hush, and be ready ! there is a life on every word," returned 
 Fazil, hearing the King speak in Persian in an under-tone to_tho 
 Meerza. ^ 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 133 
 
 *' There is no escape from deatli," lie said in a sad tone, " if tliese 
 papers be not false." 
 
 *' True ! " exclaimed tlie Jogi, abruptly, but wbetber it had refer- 
 ence to the Lalla's speech or the King's, could not be certain. The 
 King looked at him suspiciously, but the man appeared once more 
 to have relapsed into abstraction. 
 
 " O, that I know, worthy sir," returned the Lalla carelessly, 
 " we must all die in the end : we are all mortal : what saith Saadi ? " 
 and he quoted a verse from the Bostan. " I have no fear of them, 
 noble gentlemen ! May it please you to look at them first, and then 
 determine about killing me afterwards. He, he, he ! " 
 
 *' He does not tremble under those eyes," whispered Fazil to his 
 companion. " This must be true. Grod help them all ! " 
 1] i "If there be faith in handwriting and seals," resumed the Lalla 
 after a pause, " I fear not. If these documents had not been so 
 precious, why should the asylum of the world, my master, have kept 
 them so carefully in his own writing-case ? The time is not come, 
 O Meerza ! but you will yet hear of a reward having been set upon 
 your poor slave's head. Be it so ; I claim the protection of All 
 Adil Shah for the service I now do him, Bismilla ! Open the 
 packet there, and say whether I have death and infamy before me, 
 or life and honour in the King's service, for there is more at stake 
 in this matter than my lord knows of. Bismilla ! open it." 
 
 The Meerza held the packet irresolutely, as one who almost feared 
 a knowledge of its contents, and looked for a moment to his com- 
 panion 
 
 '' Bismilla ! " said the King, eagerly speaking in Persian, " open 
 it ; this suspense is intolerable. Dost thou fear for Khan Mahomed ? 
 art thou his friend ? " 
 
 " By your head and eyes, by the King's salt, no," answered the 
 other. *' For good or for [evil, Bismilla ! I open it," — and he tore 
 the cover hastily. 
 
 The heart of Fazil Khan beat so hard in his bosom that its throb- 
 bings seemed painfully audible to himself, and he almost fancied they 
 must be heard by all inside ; but he was still, as was also his companion. 
 
 As the wax-cloth covers were withdrawn, there appeared several 
 letters in the bundle, — ^large, and the paper covered with gilding, 
 such as are sent to persons of the most exalted rank only. Eagerly, 
 most eagerly, did the practised eye of the Secretary run over each 
 superscription, and each was narrowly scrutinized. One by one he 
 passed them to the King, and Fazil could see that, whatever they 
 were, they caused the deepest expression of interest in both their 
 countenances. Suddenly the Meerza came to one which, having ex- 
 amined even more narrowly than the others, he passed on, with a 
 deep sigh, to the King. 
 
134 TAEA 
 
 It was taken eagerly, and at once opened and read, wliile tlie 
 Lalla turned from one to tlie other mth an intense expression of 
 curiosity, fear, and hope blended together, marked on his features. 
 
 " Does that Jogi understand Persian, thinkest thou ? " asked the 
 King of the Lalla. 
 
 "ISTot a word, I will answer for it with my head," returned the 
 man confidently. " How should he ? " 
 
 " And thyself ?" 
 
 " Surely, excellent sir ; I have long served in the royal Dufter, 
 qIsc how should I have known what to take and what to leave ? " 
 He spoke now in Persian, and the conversation continued in that 
 language. 
 
 *' If there were more, why didst thou not take all, Lalla ? '^ asked 
 the Meerza. 
 
 "All, Meerza Sahib? that the theft might be discovered before 
 I had time to get away ? Ah, no, good sir ! A Mutsuddee may be 
 a rogue, but he should have discretion," and he quoted the Persian 
 proverb to that effect; "and to all appearance the royal desk still 
 holds the same packet which I made up with other papers, and 
 sealed with the private signet as it was before. 'No ; the theft is not 
 suspected yet, unless that packet have been opened by the Emperor 
 when I was missed " 
 
 "And thou knowest the contents of this letter, Lalla?" inquired 
 the King. 
 
 " I could say them to you, for I have them by heart, noble sir ; 
 perhaps they are somewhat remarkable, for when I read them, I 
 thought Ali Adil Shah would like to hear them, so I committed 
 them to memory. I will even repeat the letter to you if this worthy 
 Meerza have no objection. I presume," he continued to the Secre- 
 tary, " that your friend is in the King's confidence as much as your- 
 self." 
 
 " Surely," was the reply. " I may say that he is more in it than 
 I am myself, else I had not brought him." 
 
 " Enough," said the Lalla ; " I am satisfied. Now, open the letter 
 and compare it with what I repeat. There is no Alkab." 
 
 " True," said the King, "he has drawn a Mudd at the top." 
 
 "Proceed after the Mudd, then," continued the Lalla, "the letter 
 runs thus: — 
 
 " Ji^ lias been the will of tlie all-poiverfid that the forces of my lord, 
 the ruler of both luorlds, shoidd retire. Let not that trouble his heart. 
 By the favour of the most mercifid, matters will yet taJce a inosjperoiis 
 course for my lord's true interests. All here, luith this poor suppliant 
 for his bounty, are day and night labourin'g in his behalf: and already 
 many, as by the endorsed list, with their adherents, have been gained 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 135 
 
 to the true cause. Others demur, hut will repent; again, others are 
 ohstmate, and cannot he moved, hut they are not many. A few months 
 more, and when the season opens, the harvest will he ripe for the gather- 
 ing. Then, there will he no turning hack for my lord from this city ; 
 for its people, with this poor servant, rejoicing to escape tyranny, will at 
 once turn to the asylum of the tivo worlds, and give my lord' s fortunate 
 footsteps a happy welcome. We are tired of the false religion ; and as 
 to the King, he is hut yet a hoy, and has neither poiver, Tcnowledge, nor 
 any friends : and are men of venerahle age to suhmit tamely to his idle 
 fancies ? Surely not. He can he ultimately provided for. For the 
 rest, my lord's promises are undeserved hy the least of his servants, who 
 is not fit to hiss his feet ; hut my lord can ai least rely that his 
 administration will he carried on entirely in his interest, and to his 
 honour and glory. What need to write more ? it would he heyond the 
 hounds of respect. May the splendour of dominion and honour increase! 
 The signature of Khan Mahomed, Wuzeer of Beejapoor.^^ 
 
 "Ay, what need of more ? " .giglied tlie young King. "Enough 
 here — enough to prove the man's treachery, the least deserved that 
 ever the false world saw. Yet, Meerza, there, are still many true to 
 the Eang : there are some suspected ones in the list that we know 
 of," he continued, his eye running rapidly over it, " but Afzool Khan, 
 and many of note, are not here, and yet rumour has assailed them 
 also." 
 
 "Yes, they are intimates," said the Secretary, "but no more, I 
 think." 
 
 " Then I have won my reward and my life ! " exclaimed the Lalla 
 anxiously, in his own tongue. 
 
 "Your life, surely," replied the Meerza; "but for the reward, we 
 need to make some further scrutiny into those papers ere that can 
 be disbursed : they must be compared with others in the King's 
 possession. Therefore I will take them with me to-night, and if 
 you will come to me — you know my house — early to-morrow, all 
 will be arranged to your satisfaction." 
 
 " But, my lord — noble sirs," cried the Lalla, in evident dread, 
 
 " that was no part of the bargain. Did we not settle " He 
 
 could not, however, finish the sentence on account of a rude and 
 decisive interruption. 
 
 " I forbid it. I forbid one paper or one of you passing hence this 
 night till the money is paid," said the Jogi, severely. 
 
 " And who art thou ? " demanded the Meerza, haughtily. " Peace ! 
 withdraw ; this is no place for thee, or the like of thee." 
 
 "Who am I?" retorted the ruffian. "Who am I ? One who 
 has the right, as he has the power, to demand what he seeks." And 
 9>s he spoke he snatched from beneath the heap of ashes before him 
 
136 TABA 
 
 the heavy sword he had kept concealed there/which flashed brightly 
 in the firelight, and started to his feet, as did also his follower. 
 " Stir not ! " he exclaimed to the King and Secretary, who had been 
 too mnch startled by the sudden action to rise with the Jogi ; "stir not, 
 or ye die on the spot ! " Drawing himself up to his majestic height, 
 Pahar Singh langhed scornfully. *' Ha, ha, ha ! a boy and a penman 
 against me! Ha, ha, ha! put up thy weapon. Maun Singh, there 
 is no need of it." 
 
 " Who art thou ? " demanded the King, rising notwithstanding 
 the threat, and returning the glance as steadily as it was given. 
 
 "It concerns thee not," answered Pahar Singh. "Pay me the 
 money promised on those papers — ten thousand good rupees — on 
 this spot, or you pass not hence alive. Brother," he added to Maun 
 Singh, " be ready. They have brought the money, and we must get 
 it." 
 
 It was a moment of intense anxiety to Fazil Khan and his com- 
 panion. A word — a sound from them, and the life of the young 
 King was gone. Fazil could see that, except a small dagger in each 
 of their girdles, the King and his Secretary were unarmed. To rush to 
 them soon enough to be of use, was a thing impossible ; they would 
 be dead ere he could strike a blow. There was no absolute peril, 
 however, as yet, and too much at stake to risk anything. Pahar 
 Singh appeared to have no evil intention ; but, if provoked, it was 
 plain he might do violence, and would not hesitate to use his weapon 
 if rescue were attempted. 
 
 The King saw his danger. There was little avail in temporizing, 
 and his thought and action were alike prompt. His own life and 
 his friend's were both at stake ; and what did the money signify ? 
 Not a feather in the balance. Could his attendants, whom he had 
 left at a distance, even hear of his danger, he must perish ere they 
 could approach him. 
 
 " Hold ! " he cried, "whoever thou art, Jogi. If the Lalla says 
 thou art to have the money, it will be given. Our bargain was with 
 him." 
 
 " And his with me," returned the man. " Give it me ; " and as' 
 he spoke he advanced close to the King. 
 
 " Pay it to him — let him have it," cried the Lalla to the King, 
 " and keep back your men if you have any with you, else there will 
 be bloodshed. He is desperate, noble sirs ; do not provoke him." 
 
 " I would do him no harm," said Pahar Singh to the Secretary, 
 "but it is as well to be certain in case of treachery ; " and he drew 
 a small dagger from his girdle with his left hand, and held it in an 
 attitude to strike into the King. " Go, if the money is here ; bring 
 it quickly ; but beware of any attempt to rescue him, or you will 
 cause his death. You could not reach me ere I had struck him down. 
 
¥ 
 
 A MAHRATTA TALE. 137 
 
 Go then, Meerza Sahib, my friend Mann Singh will bring the bags :- 
 he is strong enough." 
 
 " Gro, friend," said the King, "do as he says. If the people ask 
 ■questions, say I am safe, and will be with them presently." 
 
 " And leave thee with him ! " said the Meerza, anxiously. " I 
 will not stir; there is peril, and my place is beside thee." 
 
 " There is no peril if ye are true," said Pahar Singh ; " much, if 
 ye are false. Go ! " 
 
 " Go, friend, I will trust" him; his object is money, not my pooT 
 life. Go ! I am not afraid of him, nor he of me," said the King. 
 
 " How noble he is ! " whispered Fazil to his companion. 
 
 Both would have given all they possessed to have been by the 
 King's side to have struck down the ruffian. 
 
 " Ay, Meah, I would we were by his side," returned Bulwunt. 
 " Who can he hQ ? Whoever he may be, he is indeed fearless ; but 
 he will not be harmed if they bring the money. Hush ! they may 
 speak again." 
 
 The Meerza turned silently to go, and descended the step, accom- 
 panied by Maun Singh. 
 
 "Come," said the latter to the Lalla; "help to carry the bags, 
 good man ; it will save me another journey. Come ! " 
 
 The Lalla followed, and the two remained standing face to face, 
 the young King and the outlaw looking steadily at each other. 
 
 " Afraid of thee ? " said Pahar Singh in a low voice, and dropping 
 the arm which had held the dagger uplifted. "Afraid of thee? 
 No, proud boy : he who defied thy father's power at its greatest, hath 
 little to fear from thine. Ali Adil Shah, thinkest thou that this 
 poor disguise could conceal thee ? Yet thou art bold and true, and 
 I rejoice that I have had proof of it, for men told me thou wert a 
 coward — a boy of the zenana — only fit to herd with women. Now 
 thou hast met the 'Lion of the Hill' bravely," he continued, using the 
 play on his own name, " and he will turn from thee peacefully. Thy 
 life hath been in my hand — nay, is now in it were I to strike — but I 
 give it to thee freely ; promise me mine in return, and swear by thy 
 father's spirit that, once gone from this, thou wilt not turn back, 
 nor suffer any one of thy retinue to do so." 
 
 The King started as the man covertly declared his name, and the 
 covering fell from his face. 
 
 " Thou Pahar Singh, the Lion of Allund ? " he said. 
 
 "Even so, monarch," returned the chief. "Ha! ha! The man 
 whom thy slaves — cowards — tell thee they pursue. Aha ! they dare 
 not. Pahar Singh is monarch of his own wilds ; no royal troops 
 dare to come near them. But keep thine own counsel, and now listen. 
 Thou mayst need me yet, and I may do thee good service. Two 
 thousand good hearts and stout arms, such as thy money cannot hire, 
 
138 TAIiA 
 
 serve Pahar Singli. Swear to keep faith witli me, and I will be true. 
 Hadst tliorL been a coward, and quailed at tlie sigbt of this weapon, 
 I should have been tempted to slaj thee, Adil Khan, like a dog, for 
 never yet did coward sit on the throne of Beejapoor. For what has 
 happened, thou hast my respect. Enough ! remember Pahar Singh, 
 and in two days or less I will send thee more tidings, or come myself. 
 Thou mayst kill the messenger, but he will not tell of my hiding- 
 place ; and if harm come to him, I swear to thee, by the Lady of 
 Tooljapoor, my Holy Mother, that I will take a life for every hair 
 of his head, and burn a hundred villages. Now, silence 1 I have 
 spoken. Am 1 free to go, scathless as thou art ? Thy hand upon it, 
 monarch ! " 
 
 It was frankly given, and the rebel and outlaw, instead of taking 
 it rudely, and as if prompted suddenly by a kindly feeling of reverence 
 for his King, bent his head gently, touched it with his forehead, and 
 kissed it. 
 
 " Thy hand has touched my lips — put it upon my head, and swear 
 by thy father not to harm me," he said, quickly. 
 
 " I swear by my father not to harm thee, Pahar Singh : only be 
 thou henceforth faithful to thy King's salt," he replied, as he placed 
 both his hands upon the outlaw's head. 
 
 '' Enough," returned Pahar Singh, removing them, pressing them 
 again to his forehead, and kissing them reverently ; "I will be true 
 to thy salt, O King ; but speak to no one of me, and wait patiently 
 till I come — I may have news for thee. A f akeer's rags and a beggar *s 
 cry admit me everywhere — ' Ulla dilaya to leonga ' * — by night or 
 by day, wherever thou art, in durbar or zenana, whenever you hear 
 it — admit me, or order me to be confined, and send for me — I shall 
 bawl loudly enough. If I come not in two days, do not doubt me ; 
 but stir not in this matter till I arrive — it may be very soon, I cannot 
 say. Now cover thy face ; they come," and he resumed his former 
 threatening attitude. 
 
 The Meerza, with the two others, emerged from behind the temple 
 almost as he spoke, and in a few moments had ascended the steps of 
 the apartment. Maun Singh drew a heavy bag from beneath the 
 scarf which was round his shoulders ; but the eye of the robber at 
 once detected its small size. 
 
 " Those are not rupees, Meerza ; beware of treachery with me. 
 I have not harmed him," he exclaimed. 
 
 "No, it is gold, holy Baba. Behold!" and he opened the bag, 
 and poured the contents carefully into a little heap on the floor near 
 the fire. " There is more than he bargained for," he continued, 
 pointing to the Lalla, " but it does not matter ; you are welcome ta 
 it, for the temple and the well." 
 
 *" If God give I will take." 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 130 
 
 " Enough, " returned Pahar Smgh ; "I am satisfied. Gro, take 
 your papers, and begone ; molest me no more." And, sitting down 
 on his deer's hide, he heaped up the gold coins carefully with his left 
 hand, while his right still held the sword. 
 
 '' And my reward, O Meerza Sahib ! " cried the Lalla eagerly, as 
 he and the King turned to depart; "thou wilt not abandon me to 
 him." 
 
 "It is there with the rest," answered the Secretary; " Lalla jee, 
 help yourself, we must begone." 
 
 "Say, but I want it not; only take me away — take me away. 
 I fear him," cried the man, in a piteous voice, and trembhng 
 violently. 
 
 " Peace, fool," exclaimed Pahar Singh, rising and holding him 
 back powerfully. " Peace, I will settle with thee !" 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 For a moment the natural presence of mind which Fazil possessed 
 deserted him, and his brain seemed to reel under conflicting 
 thoughts, and the weight and importance of the secret of which he 
 had become possessed. Should he disclose himself to the King as 
 he passed out, and urge him to allow Pahar Singh to be taken ? 
 The retinue which awaited the monarch would be enough to sur- 
 round the temple, and the robber's capture or death was certain. 
 It was a deed to do to prove his devotion, and the country would be 
 free of a bold and mischievous marauder, who plundered it up to- 
 the gates of the city. But the King's promise to the outlaw was 
 for the time sacred, and there was, perhaps, further service to be 
 done by the man, which could not be delayed. As regards the 
 Wuzeer and his family, also, he must avow his knowledge of the 
 secret to the King, when he might be charged as his spy, and 
 so share the Wuzeer's fate. These thoughts checked the impulse 
 which had so nearly carried him on, — it might have been to 
 destruction. 
 
 " Shall we follow him ? shall we speak to the King ? " asked 
 Bulwunt hurriedly, observing Fazil's irresolution. " Say quickly, 
 Meah, — we have not a moment to lose.'* 
 
 "No, no! we are better here," replied Fazil. "The avowed 
 knowledge of that secret might chance to be our death-warrant ; and 
 has not the King given him kowl ? Let us watch still — we may 
 gather further particulars ; but to follow the King is madness. 
 Listen ! they are speaking." Again, therefore, they resumed their 
 respective positions. 
 
140 TABA: 
 
 A few sticks had been thrown on the embers, and Mann Singh 
 was kneeling down and blowing them into a flame, which, bursting 
 thi'ough them in small flashes with every breath, partially illumined 
 the figures around it and the blackened walls of the apartment. 
 Pahar Singh sat with the gold coins before him, counting them one 
 hj one. A large portion were already laid on one side, which he 
 proceeded to drop into the bag. The expression of his coarse and 
 savage features could now be distinctly seen ; for not only was the 
 light from the fire becoming steady, but he had removed from his 
 original position, so that he sat with his face nearly full towards Fazil, 
 though from Bulwunt Rao he was more concealed than before. It 
 was a face which, once seen, could never be forgotten. Men saw it 
 and quailed before it : women saw it and shuddered : and Fazil 
 remembered how often old Goolab, when he was yet a child, had 
 frightened him by the mention of Pahar Singh : while tales of his 
 occasional frays and bloody deeds were of everyday report in the 
 bazar. 
 
 There, then, he sat. Turban he had none : his matted hair, 
 twisted into a rough rope, was tied in a knot on the crown of his 
 head, and covered with ashes, showing the high narrow forehead — 
 on which, though crossed by deep wrinkles, the forked veins, 
 swelled by his excitement, stood out like ridges, betokening passions 
 "wild, fierce, and uncontrollable. The eyes, always bright, glittered 
 restlessly and suspiciously from beneath the heavy brows, to which, 
 and to the lids, the white ashes, smeared on his face from time to 
 time as he sat, had adhered ; and his hard grin disclosed the 
 prominent eye-teeth, which he chose to call tusks, in allusion to his 
 name. 
 
 When we last saw this face at Itga, it was excited, but there 'was 
 a softening influence exercised by the presence of his adopted son, 
 and Pahar Singh was under some restraint. Now there was none, 
 and it was difiicult to recognize the features at all under his disguise, 
 which served to increase the natural ferocity of the expression. 
 
 His rough moustaches, of a sandy-brown colour at the ends, min- 
 gled with a straggling scanty beard, were usually parted in the middle, 
 and turned over his ears ; but now, being loosened, they were tied to- 
 gether in a knot under his chin, in the most approved Jogi fashion. 
 His broad chest was covered with grizzled hair of the same peculiar 
 colour as his beard; and his chin, originally fair, had become of a 
 deep brown, except where it retained some of its original colour. 
 His arms, which had appeared so muscular when he suddenly started 
 up to threaten the king, seemed even longer and more powerful, as 
 he sat stretching out one over the blaze, while the fingers of the 
 other hand played among the gold pieces before him. Pahar Singh's 
 countenance was now very repellant. It seemed to Fazil that mercy 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 141 
 
 conld never issue from those pitiless lips wliich, with the full nostrils 
 distending and contracting rapidly under the action of feelings not 
 yet expressed, produced an effect which fascinated, while it shocked 
 one unused to it. 
 
 "Lallajee," he said, every now and then looking up: " O friend, 
 dost thou love gold ? See, this is red and pure^ah, yes, lovely — and 
 so it need be, coming out of the King's mint direct. More than ten 
 thousand rupees, too, they said. Well, there are just five hundred 
 and fifty ashruffees. That is — ^how much, Maun Singh ? thou art a 
 better accountant than I am." 
 
 '' Somewhere about eleven thousand rupees, I believe, Maharaj,'' 
 said his follower. 
 
 " Well, that will do, Lallajee," continued Pahar Singh. *' That is 
 my share for taking care of thee, thou knowest, and getting thee a 
 good market for thy papers. The gods be praised ! I vow ten of 
 these to the Holy Mother's necklace at Tooljapoor," and he took up 
 ten pieces of the number that remained. 
 
 "Nay, valiant sir," interposed the Lalla: "that is your Excel- 
 lency's share in the bag yonder. These are mine, not half, as we 
 agreed, but enough perhaps for the poor Lalla. It would be no 
 merit for my lord if he were to give to the goddess " 
 
 He could not finish the sentence, whatever it might have been 
 intended to mean, for the rude interruption — " Ill-begotten ! " cried 
 the robber, snatching a brand from the fire and striking the Lalla's 
 hand, which had advanced towards the heap, — " dare to touch the 
 gold, and thou diest ! That for the like of thee ! " 
 
 " I am your slave," whimpered the man, wringing his hand ; 
 "but why did my lord strike so hard ? " 
 
 "Listen to the coward, brother," said Pahar Singh with a sneer; 
 "a woman would not whine like that. ISTow, thy share. Maun 
 Singh." 
 
 " Of course," said that worthy, " after being .dallal in the matter, 
 and putting my head into jeopardy, running after that mad Secretary 
 into the very palace — where, had any one chanced to recognize me, 
 I should have been cut down or speared like a mad dog — truly, 
 considering the risk, and that day and night's ride to boot, mine 
 comes next. , Ah ! thou art a just man, O Jemadar." 
 
 "Well, then, hold out thine hand, brother," returned Pahar 
 Singh, taking up a few coins and dropping them into his hand. 
 " One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Good gold, good 
 gold, Lallajee ! " he said, looking up : " but it is of no use giving it 
 to him : he will only spend it on women and liquor. Better I 
 should have the rest, who can take care of it, Lalla, and give it him 
 as he needs it — dost thou not think so ? Yet, stay, I may as well 
 — nine, ten, that's two hundred rupees, brother — enough for thee. 
 
142 TAEA : 
 
 Who would liave thonglit of a bundle of old papers bringing so 
 many bright asbruffees. And after all, O Lalla — bj your head — 
 were they true or false, O mean thief ? " 
 
 " True ; I swear by your head and eyes, by the holy Krishna and 
 his temple at Muttra. Canst thou doubt, after what has passed, 
 Jemadar ? " cried the Lalla earnestly. 
 
 ^'Nay, how could I understand thy jabbering of Persian ? That 
 was no honest talk, Maun Singh ; they meant to cheat us by it, and 
 this slave joined in it. Twenty-one, twenty-two," — he was counting 
 the remainder of the gold, and dropping the coins into his own bag 
 as he spoke, " twenty- three. Dost thou think, O Lalla, that I am a 
 cheating Mutsuddee, like thyself ? — twenty-four, twenty-five. — 
 Ill-begotten clerk, say — am I — Pahar Singh — a liar and a thief like 
 thyself?" 
 
 "May I be your sacrifice, Maharaj, no," cried the Lalla, terrified 
 at his manner, and watching, with evident and ill-concealed un- 
 easiness, coin after coin disappearing into the bag. " Why should 
 my lord be angry if I spoke in Persian ? " 
 
 " Ho, ho, thou art frightened again — art thou ? Well, perhaps 
 thou couldst not help the Persian, as the letter had to be read ; 
 but I understood it all the time, O Lalla. Thou couldst not have 
 cheated me — listen ! " he continued in that language, speaking it 
 with a broad Mahratta accent ; "what part of this sum dost thou 
 expect for thy share— twenty-six, twenty-seven. There is yet much, 
 Lalla. What sayeth the poet Saadi ? Expectation— 7- — JSTo ''matter, 
 I forget the verses we used to learn at school. How much ? " 
 , "Nay, Maharaj, I know not," returned the man in a bewildered 
 manner. " My lord said half would be mine, and the Meerza told 
 us there were more than ten thousand rupees." 
 
 " Good, O Lalla, thou patron of valiant men like me : but dost 
 thou expect it ? Five thousand rupees ! dost thou think that such 
 a sum will come to thee ? " and his hand passed to the hilt of his 
 sword. 
 
 " My lord ! noble prince ! I — I — I," stammered the now trembling 
 wretch. " I-— I — mean the promise to me. I^^ay, look not so, 
 Maharaj," as he observed the robber's face distorted with suppressed 
 rage, the veins of his forehead swelled, and white foam gathering 
 about the corners of the mouth. " jN^ay, look not so angry ! Behold, 
 I kiss your feet : I am a very poor man, and a stranger; " and he 
 joined his hands in supglication as he rose from his heels partly to a 
 kneeling posture. " '^I'ould my lord ever have known of the value of 
 those papers had I not told it ? Would they not have been thrown 
 away, scattered to the winds, if my poor life had been taken at Itga ?" 
 
 " My promise ! — my promise to thee, son of a base mother ! 
 Didst thou not sweao* to me "they would be worth thousands ? — 
 
A MAHEATTA TALE. 143 
 
 lakhs ! " cried the robber, raising his voice and gesticulating 
 violently, as he now took up the gold pieces by handfnls, and thrust 
 them into the bag. "A lakh of rupees ! and here are only a few 
 paltry coins, for which thou hast brought me fifty coss ! What will 
 Anunt Geer of KuUianee say to this poor instalment on his debt ? 
 Thief ! get me the rest — the rest of the gold they have put aside for 
 thee. Didst thou not promise a lakh ? " 
 
 He had now lashed himself into a fury, which had been his object 
 evidently from the first ; and he struck the Lalla with his clenched 
 hand violently upon the head, so that he fell backwards, and lay 
 apparently stunned ; but it was only fear. 
 
 " He will kill him — not that he does not deserve death, the mean 
 hound ! " said Fazil Khan, hurriedly to his companion. " When 
 was Pahar Singh ever known to spare a victim ? What is to be 
 done, Bulwunt ? shall we attack them ? " 
 
 " Alas, Meah ! " returned the other, " what can be done ? — a 
 sound, a word, and the man is dead. We cannot reach them ; and 
 the door was closed and barred when the others went. Ai Bho wani ! 
 ai Khundoba ! ai Bhugwan ! save him ! O, that I had brought my 
 gun with me, or even a pistol, Meah ; but he dare not kill him ; he 
 is only frightening him out of the money. Hush, and listen ! " 
 
 '' Raise him, brother," continued Pahar Singh to his companion, 
 laughing ; " we will soon see whether this fear is true or feigned ; or 
 is the coward soul really gone out of his body ? " 
 
 "Nay, Jemadar, but he breathes," said Maun Singh, raising the 
 Lalla. "" Speak, O Toolsee Das ! art thou alive ? " 
 
 " My lords ! O my lords ! " gasped the terrified wretch ; " what 
 have I done ? what have I done ? why am I beaten ? " 
 
 " My thousands, I tell thee ! " cried the robber hoarsely. " Where 
 are the papers that were to bring me thousands ? Thou hast con- 
 cealed them to sell to others. Liar ! liar, and base-born coward, as 
 thou art ! « Enough, Maun Singh," he continued, in another lan- 
 guage, which was not understood either by Fazil Khan or his 
 companion, and which both often thought of afterwards ; "he must 
 die ; the goddess has sent him ; he must die for her, lest he lead 
 other men astray." 
 
 " Ay, he is good Bunij, Jemandar," returned the man coolly. 
 " Methinks this would have saved trouble long ago, and your 
 worship's getting into a passion. We ate the goor this morning — - — " 
 
 " Surely, brother, but no blood. I would apt soil my sword with 
 carrion like him: and yours is a certain hand with the handker- 
 chief." 
 
 What words can describe the terror of the devoted wretch ? He 
 could not speak or cry out. Of what use if he had ? He knew the 
 temple was far from men's abodes, and the wind moaned hoarsely in 
 
144 TABA : 
 
 the trees above, as tlie branclies swajed to and fro before a brisk 
 gale now rising with tbe clouds. He tried to swallow, but in vain. 
 He sat paralysed, as it were, his eyes wandering vacantly from one 
 to the other, while his lips were tightened into a ghastly simper of 
 fear. Neither of the men spoke ; but Maun Singh was carelessly 
 twisting a handkerchief into a peculiar form, and tying a knot at the 
 end of it. " Thou wilt not feel it, Lallajee," he said jocularly, but 
 in the strange tongue ; " my hand is sure, and I am the best Bhuttote 
 in Allund." 
 
 What the Lalla understood or guessed it was impossible to conceive ; 
 but Fazil felt assured that murder was to be done. " By Alia and 
 his Prophet ! " he said to Bulwunt, " come what may of it, are we 
 men to stand by tamely and see foul murder committed before our 
 eyes ? Were the wretch a hundred times more liar and coward, one 
 good blow should be struck against that ruffian. Ho, Pahar Singh ! 
 Maun Singh ! " shouted the young Khan before he coald be pre- 
 vented by his companion. '' Hold ! would ye do murder ? " 
 
 " Hur, Hur, Mahadeo ! " cried his companion at the same moment^ 
 aud both rushed to the place where, on the side they had been 
 standing, the wall seemed the lowest ; but it was still too high to be 
 reached without a scramble over rough stones, which delayed them 
 longer than they had thought. The top once gained, they leaped 
 into the enclosure with drawn weapons ; but as they did so, Fazil 
 saw one man on the top beyond, another climbing up, aided by his 
 companion. For him and Bulwunt Bao to rush across the court was 
 the act but of an instant ; yet they were too late : the Jogi — Pahar 
 Singh — had escaped, and his companion was in the act of dropping 
 down, when, aided by a bound, the well-aimed weapon of the young 
 KHian reached him. Where or how Fazil Khan had wounded the 
 robber he knew not ; but when he examined his bright blade, there 
 was a broad stain upon it which could not be mistaken. As he looked, 
 hesitating whether he should leap down and follow, he could just 
 distinguish two figures dimly, running at desperate speed through 
 the trees across the plain, which were quickly lost in the gloom. 
 
 Bulwunt Bao was at his side. " Another moment and we should 
 have had both : the gods have protected them ; and it is of no use 
 following, Meah," he said. 
 
 "No, no, they are gone," returned Fazil ; "it is useless to follow : 
 better for us to see after that poor wretch yonder — the villains may 
 have murdered him, after all ;" and they hastened to him. 
 
 The flickering blaze was still playing about the little fire, and 
 served them with enough light to distinguish the objects by it, dis- 
 closing, too, more of the apartment or verandah than they had yet 
 seen ; and as both entered the place at the same moment, a cry of 
 execration burst simultaneously from them. 
 
A MAIIBATTA TALE. 145 
 
 " The villains have been too sure ! While we scrambled among 
 those stones they killed him. See, here is an ngly gash, Meah ! " 
 said Buhvnnt Rao. 
 
 " That wonld not kill him," said Fazil, stooping to raise np the 
 bodj — " and he is quite warm. I most fear this cloth about his 
 neck ; but look for some water. I would not have him die. So 
 now — dash some in his face — his heart beats, too — he lives, Bul- 
 wunt Rao ! " 
 
 " Praise to Narayun ! there is at least a chance for him," cried 
 Bulwunt. *' Awake — arise, Lalla ! and fear not," he continued 
 to the wounded man ; " your enemies are gone, and you are with 
 friends who can protect you. Here, drink some water. I am a 
 Hindu who give it ; and speak, man with a small liver ! " 
 
 These cheering words, accompanied by a few gentle blows on his 
 back, and a little water forced into his mouth, restored something 
 like consciousness to the wretch. He opened his eyes and stared 
 wildly about, and into the faces of those who stood over him : then 
 he put his hand to his throat as if it hurt him. 
 
 "Ay, I dare say," continued Bulwunt — " I dare say they hurt thee 
 badly ; but fear not, Sree Swami has sent you friends ; drink, and 
 it will do you good. Tut, man, you need not be particular about 
 caste ; here is my junwha, and there is no need to ask further. 
 That's well — can you speak ? " 
 
 ''Ye are not they," said the Lalla huskily, and in a low tone. 
 " Friends, how came ye here ? Hai, Hai ! — alas, where is my gold ? 
 and where are the robbers who would have killed me ? May their 
 mothers be defiled ! " 
 
 "Perish the gold, meanhearted," cried Fazil; "with thy soul 
 hovering betwixt life and death, is thy first thought for thy gold ? " 
 
 " I worship thy feet, brave Gosai," returned the Lalla ; " but it was 
 all I had, for which I had risked much. Hai, Hai ! it is all gone now, 
 and I am in a strange place without a copper or a friend; " and he 
 turned to the wall and sobbed bitterly. 
 
 " It was a round sum to lose, certainly," said Bulwunt ; " but thy 
 life is safe, and thou hast only to steal again, Lallajee ! " 
 
 "Better to have died — better to have died, sirs ! " cried the man 
 distractedly. " When shall I see so much gold again ? Look, noble 
 sirs, is all gone ? has he taken all ?" 
 
 " It was here they counted it," said Fazil ; " look about — a piece or 
 two may be found ; or they may have dropped some in their flight.'* 
 
 Bulwunt blew a dry stick into a blaze, and looked around. He was 
 fortunate — a few coins had escaped Pahar Singh, which he gave to 
 tbe Lalla, who tied them up in his waistcloth. 
 
 " Look for more — look yonder, kind sir ; and the blessings of a poor 
 Khayet be on you both," returned the Lalla. "My eyes are dim: 
 
146 TARA : 
 
 alas ! " lie exclaimed, as lie put his hand to the back of his neck and 
 felt blood, — " I am killed — I am dying !" 
 
 "Peace, fool! " cried Fazil impatiently, "a child wonld have cut 
 deeper : it has been a strange escape. Give me your scarf — I will tie 
 np the wound." 
 
 "And here is some more money for you, too, Lallajee," said Bul- 
 wunt, who had now returned, having picked up several gold pieces 
 in the line which Pahar Singh had taken across the court. " There 
 may be more, and if you come to-morrow early, you may find them." 
 
 "But now we cannot wait, Lalla," added Fazil; "there is no 
 further fear of your life. The clouds are gathering fast, and there 
 will be rain ; we will see you safe to a guard-room, and I will have 
 you cared for in the morning ; or you can sleep here if you like." 
 
 " Ah, leave me not, gentlemen ! I am poor and in great pain," re- 
 plied the man. " My clothes and horse are a long way from hence : 
 how shall I get to them ? Take me with you and I shall live, else he 
 will find me out and kill me — that Pahar Singh." 
 
 Supporting the wounded man between them, the two friends 
 unfastened the door of the courtyard and passed out. The glare and 
 noise of the bazar seemed only at a short distance, and knowing that 
 a strong guard was placed at night near the end nearest the city, they 
 went to it as directly as they could. A few questions were carelessly 
 asked as to the cause of the wound, and as vaguely answered. A 
 traveller found wounded, who had been robbed, was probably cause 
 enough to acount for his condition. 
 
 "We cannot delay, Lalla," said Bulwunt, in answer to his cries 
 that one at least would stay with him. " We have far to go, and the 
 night is passing fast. The clouds, too, are gathering, and the thun- 
 der is growling in the distance. Hark ! there will be a storm. Come, 
 Meah," he whispered, " we may miss him whom we seek. See that 
 the man's wounds are dressed, Duffadar," he continued aloud to the 
 officer of the guard, " and let him sleep here." 
 
 CHAPTER XXni. 
 
 As Fazil parted from the wounded man, the scenes of the night, the 
 horrid truth regarding the treachery of his friend's father, the danger 
 which threatened both, and indeed the whole family, caused him 
 many an anxious thought. His worst suspicions had only been too 
 deeply verified, and even now there arose some struggle between duty 
 and allegiance to his King, and affection for the Wuzeer's family, for 
 the sake of his son. Bulwunt had again avoided the principal street, 
 and they were once more in the open ground beyond the houses. 
 
A M Ann ATT A TALE. 147 
 
 Fazil walked on rapidly and silently ; but at length the oppression of 
 his thoughts found vent in words, " Let him decide," he said aloud, 
 in allusion to his father ; " wisdom abides with him ; and in a matter 
 like this his advice is precious." 
 
 "And what think you of all this, Meah ? " asked his companion, 
 for an instant slackening his pace ; "what will the noble Khan Sahib 
 say to it ? — not indeed that he and the Wuzeer are very intimate 
 friends either. I tell thee, were not my heart turning to that devil 
 Tannajee Maloosray, I should be lost in wonder at the Wuzeer's folly." 
 
 "Even so," said Fazil, sighing; "a man in whom I would have 
 placed confidence as in my own father — one who ought to be 
 honoured and loved for his faith — is but a poor knave, after all, Bul- 
 wunt — not better than that miserable Lalla whom we have just left 
 — a thing for men to spit upon. Alas for the world's honesty, 
 brother ! A heap of gold, a few empty titles, the smile of a woman, — 
 and power — which does but make its possessor miserable when he 
 has gained it — turns right to wrong, justice to oppression, virtue to 
 vice, honesty to knavery, faith to treachery. We look for it in the 
 highest, but it flies from us ; we seek it in the lowest, and turn from 
 them but too often in despair. Should not one sigh at depravity like 
 this, which finds no echo in one's own heart?" 
 
 " True, Meah, and may it long be so with you," returned his com- 
 panion; "but your experience of life is as yet small, and as it 
 increases I fear you will search in vain for the purity which your 
 own heart now pictures. Perhaps it may exist among women. Sree 
 Swami knows, and you may find it there. I have not, Meah ; but 
 in the world abroad, when you have more to do with it, your sensi- 
 tive spirit will become blunted by degrees, and, though a serious 
 matter like this will trouble it, you will gradually learn to pass many 
 a broad He or rogue's trick which now vexes you, without notice 
 beyond a passing curse or a hasty blow. Patience, Meah Sahib ! thou 
 hast much to learn yet ; would it were good, and not evil ! " 
 
 "Ah, would it were, Bulwunt Rao ! Your experience is from the 
 crooked ways and thoughts of your own people, of which men make 
 proverbs ; but for a noble of the state to betray his salt in this base 
 manner, makes me sick at heart. But this is no time, friend, to think 
 of aught but the work we have to do ; and what more has to come of 
 the night we know not. Hark ! the thunder growls again, and the 
 storm is coming up fast — we had as well run on to shelter ; and what 
 more may follow. Alia knows ! " 
 
 So saying, they hastened as rapidly as the rough ground and 
 increased darkness would admit, Bulwunt Rao guiding his young 
 master through narrow lanes and over deserted spaces, till they again 
 emerged into the now nearly deserted bazar. It Avas just past mid- 
 night, for the trumpter at the guard-house, taking up the signal from 
 
148 TABA : 
 
 c 
 
 the fort gate, had blown a flourish, which was understood hj the 
 keepers of Hqnor-shops in the quarter. The booths were still open, 
 as well as those of confectioners and bhnng or opinm sellers ; but the 
 lights were being extinguished, and the groups which had been con- 
 cealed within turned into the street. 
 
 A wild company truly! Some staggering in the last stage of 
 idiotic drunkenness from opium, others tossing their arms wildly in 
 the air, while their obscene and fearful curses and imprecations 
 mingled with the low muttering of the thunder, which hardly ceased, 
 and seemed to grow nearer every moment. Many forms lay pros- 
 trate in the street — some sleeping off the fumes of drink, or groan- 
 ing in helpless intoxication ; and they were often beset by women, 
 / whose loosened hair and disordered garments, and the wild leer of 
 their glistening eyes, bespoke their depraved condition. But, cast- 
 ing those who were most importunate violently aside, they at length 
 gained the temple, which was close to the drinking- sho]3 we have be- 
 fore mentioned, and paused for a moment near the gate, which was 
 now shut, while all was silent within. 
 
 " Let me look over thee, Meah," said his companion, " as we have 
 a little light, and are free from those drunken wretches. Dost thou 
 know, Meah, I have been like them sometimes, I fear ; but this sight 
 sickens and sobers me." 
 
 " God grant it, friend, it is the only thing I have ever feared in 
 you," he replied warmly. 
 
 " Yes, it will do," continued Bulwunt ; " the disguise is complete. 
 So — the chin scarf a little more over the end of the nose : there — no 
 one would ever suspect you. Now, 1 have a plan in my head, which 
 thou wilt say could only come of a Mahratta's brain — crooked and 
 wilful. It is this : I think, from bazar gossip, that Tannajee and 
 Pahar Singh are one, and that they have met at Tooljapoor at the 
 temple, or at that old villain Bussunt Geer's, at whose Mutt Tanna- 
 jee's people put up, or that they have corresponded with each other 
 through him. It is not very long since I was there — about two 
 ncionths ago, Meah. They were very busy — so much so that the old 
 fox would hardly let me stay ; but I was certain there was something 
 going on ; and now I have seen Pahar Singh, I am sure he came one 
 day and held counsel with the old Gosai. Now, if Tannajee has not 
 been there — as I will find out, if possible — I can personate Poorun 
 Geer, the disciple of Bussunt Geer, and we may find out more of this 
 plot. But be thou silent — a vow of silence for a year. I dread thy 
 courtly speech breaking out even of our rough Mahratta tongue or a 
 Mussulmani oath. Trust to me, Meah : I will not fail thee if we 
 meet this fellow ! " 
 
 *'I would we had brought the guard with us, Bulwunt," said Fazil. 
 
 ** Guard ! " said his companion, laughing. " Look, there are his 
 
A MAHJIATTA TALE. 149 
 
 sentinels. That fellow," pointing to a figure seated at a little distance 
 on the ground, mufiled in a black blanket, and hardly to be distin- 
 guished from an animal or a stone, " is one. I saw him shift his 
 position so as to watch us ; and I see three others in different direc- 
 tions, Meah; one mil cough, or sneeze, or make some signal when 
 we move — and there is old Rama in the doorway, listening. Guard, 
 Meah ! no, no ; we may kill Tannajee if we are lucky, but were a 
 guard to approach, he would be off into the deserted ground at the 
 back, and who could find him ? Now, come ; and may the gods 
 protect us ! " 
 
 It was but a few steps. As they moved past, a low cough proceeded 
 from the sitting figure on the watch, and a light streamed from the 
 doorway as the publican, Rama, moved in. 
 
 " Did you see that ? " whispered Bulwunt — " is it not as I told 
 you ? Keep your sword ready, Meah ; but be not hasty, whatever 
 you may see or hear." 
 
 So saying, they stepped into the vestibule of the shop — an open 
 space, around which were benches of raised earth or brick, neatly 
 plastered over. A counter with some brass measures and a large 
 copper vase, brightly polished, containing spirit, stood at one side, 
 and a lamp burned in a niche. 
 
 Bulwunt took one of the brass drinking-cups and rattled it against 
 another as a signal ; for, as he supposed, the owner of the place had 
 gone to an inside apartment. As he came forth, Bulwunt accosted 
 him, and requested two hookas to be filled — one with tobacco, the 
 other with ganja, and was advancing to the inner apartment when 
 the man stopped him. 
 
 *' There are no hookas to be had here to-night ; it is past the hour, 
 Babajee," he said, "and I am out of ganja till to-morrow. ISTor can 
 you go in there, for the place is engaged ; and they who are within 
 will not brook being disturbed." 
 
 "Ha! then there is play going on, Rama; and that is what we 
 came for — a new hand is always welcome. Go and tell them there are 
 two gentlemGn without who would join." 
 
 "Play? No, truly," cried the man — "they have other work to 
 do. But go your way, both of ye, for I cannot admit either of you 
 at this time of night, and have no hookas for you to smoke. Begone ; 
 there are plenty of mudud khanas in the street besides mine, where 
 you can get all you want. Begone, ere the rain increases." 
 
 " Nay, be not inhospitable, good fellow," returned Bulwunt, sooth- 
 ingly ; "and here is a trifle for thee — even for shelter. Hark to the 
 thunder ! " And as he spoke, another blinding flash of lightning 
 illumined the interior of the shop, while a crashing peal of thunder 
 followed hard upon it. " We shall have more of that, Rama ; and as 
 to stirring out in the rain," — for it had come plashing down with the 
 
150 TARA 
 
 thunder — "whose dog am I that I should go out in it — I or my 
 brother either ? Is this a night to turn two votaries of Sree Mahadeo 
 into the streets — strangers, too, who know no other place of shelter? 
 And were we not told to come to Rama's shop near the temple ?" 
 he added to Fazil ; who, sitting down, nodded assent, and followed 
 his example. 
 
 " There is a Gosai's Mutt hard by, round the corner," returned the 
 man doggedly, *'and a temple of Bhowani away yonder, in the plain 
 at the back, among the tamarind trees. You will find your brethren 
 in one, and shelter and water in the other, if ye need them. Begone, 
 and trouble me no more. Get up ; why sit ye there unbidden ? 
 Get up!" 
 
 " Get up and go to a Mutt, indeed! " retorted Bui want, who did 
 not move, but, on the contrary, settled himself more determinedly 
 and doggedly upon a seat. " N^ot I — in this rain ! How, brother ? " 
 he added to Fazil, " shall we attempt to enter the Mutt at night 
 through barred doors ? — be taken for thieves, and be fired upon for 
 our pains, perhaps ? " Fazil shook his head. " ]^o : we were told to 
 come here to Rama's — is thy name Rama, friend ? — and here we are." 
 " Who told ye to come here ? " asked the kullal. 
 " It concerns thee not, good man," replied Bulwunt, " unless they 
 call you Rama." 
 
 " That is my name ; and what is your business with me ? " he re- 
 turned sulkily. 
 
 " That you will know by-and-by," replied Bulwunt. *^ Meanwhile, 
 as to the Mutt and the temple, who knows whether there is either the 
 one or the other ; and who can go to look in this storm ? Where- 
 fore, worthy sir," he continued to the keeper of the place, "we are 
 very comfortable, and intend to remain. We are not beasts to be 
 turned out in rain like this. So, kindly bring the hookas, and when 
 we have smoked we will rest after our long travel to-day. As to 
 those here before us, we are not likely to molest them ; and if they 
 do not let us alone, we have weapons, and can defend ourselves. 
 Therefore, be reasonable." Bulwunt spoke loudly, that he might be 
 heard by the men within. 
 
 "What noise is that P" suddenly asked a strange voice from be- 
 hind a partition close to which they were sitting. " Did I not tell 
 thee, Rama, to admit no one ? " 
 
 "May I be your sacrifice, Rao Sahib," returned the kullal, joining 
 his hands together, and advancing to the door of the room, "your 
 slave desired these two Gosais to depart civilly, but they will not 
 move ; they say they were told to come here, and ask for hookas. 
 When I told them to be gone, one fellow talked about his weapons, 
 and I believe they are drunk." 
 
 "About weapons, did he, Rama? and who art thou, mad youtb, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 151 
 
 wlio ventnrest here into the privacy of gentlemen ? " said a tall 
 man, who now advanced from behind the partition with a sword in 
 his left hand, while, observing that Bulwnnt Rao and Fazil were 
 armed, his right hand passed to his sword-hilt, and rested there, 
 with a determined action. 
 
 How the stern tones of his voice thrilled to the heart of Bulwnnt 
 Kao, as he listened to them after an interval of many years. When 
 he last heard them he was a mere youth. Shrieks of women were 
 ringing in his ears, and his enemy's fierce commands to kill and 
 spare none — hurried shouts, and the clash of steel. As he stood, the 
 past recurred to Bulwunt Bao so vividly that, though years had 
 intervened, it seemed only as if that night had gone, and morning 
 had succeeded. There could be no doubt he was in Maloosray's 
 presence. The same grave, determined manner — the same large 
 black eye — as the proverb about him said, " Gentle as a fa^^^l's, or 
 fierce as a tiger's — the same deep-toned voice. Time had hardly 
 tinged his whiskers and moustaches with grey, but his face was 
 weather-beaten and seared, as it were, by the sun, and his large bony 
 fi^me more developed, than when they had last met — the boy and 
 the cruel fiery youth. The light from a rude lamp in a niche of the 
 wall threw a strong glare upon his face, which he did not seek to 
 evade ; while the features of Bulwunt Rao and his companion were 
 in a great measure concealed by the shadow thrown upon them in the 
 corner where they sat. 
 
 "A poor Grosai," answered Bulwunt in the Mahratta tongue, but 
 in a tone as haughty as that in which he had been addressed, " who, 
 with his brother, has sought shelter here and refreshment. Why 
 shouldst thou interfere ? " 
 
 " Ha ! a proud speech, young sir ; and your companion, why does 
 he not answer ? " returned Maloosray. 
 
 " He has a vow of silence for a year, made at the shrine of our 
 Mother of Tooljapoor," returned Bulwunt, doggedly. 
 
 "Enough," cried Maloosray, "begone in her name! There is a 
 temple of hers a gunshot from hence ; begone to it." 
 
 " We must know who it is that has the power to send us hence ere 
 We stir foot to depart," retorted BulwTint, rising, and raising his really 
 fine figure to its full height ; and as Fazil Khan followed his example, 
 both were ready to meet any sudden assault. " Who dares, I say, 
 send us out in such rain ? Are we men or dogs, to be put out with 
 insult from a public place in such weather ? " 
 
 Tannajee's sword was drawn in an instant, and flashed brightly 
 in the flickering glare of the lamp. The others were as rapidly 
 unsheathed ; but both parties stood on the defensive, — neither struck. 
 
 " For the love of Mahadeo, for the love of Bhowani, by your 
 fathers' heads ! no blood-shedding here, good sirs!" cried the keeper 
 
152 TARA 
 
 of tlie house imploringlj, passing between them, and stretching out 
 his hands deprecatingly to each in turn. " I shall be ruined ! fined ! 
 — they will hang me ! Hold ! there will be blood shed. Help ! 
 help ! " he shrieked in a frantic manner, seeing Tannajee advance 
 a step. 
 
 Hearing his cries and the altercation, two men rushed from the 
 inner apartment with drawn weapons, and would have attacked the 
 others at once, but Tannajee withheld them. 
 
 "Peace! " he cried; "put down your weapons, friends. Peace, 
 bold youth!" he continued to Bulwunt Rao; "you have run a 
 fearful risk unmoved, which you do not know of. Who are you ? " 
 he asked rapidly. 
 
 "A Gosai : I have said it already," replied the other. 
 
 " A disciple of what teacher ? " 
 
 " How are you to know, even if I tell it truly, who my Gooroo 
 is?" returned Bulwunt. "IsBussunt Geer of Tooljapoor known 
 to you ? " 
 
 " Ha ! Bussunt Geer of Tooljapoor ? but his cheyla is Poorun 
 Geer, not thou ? " 
 
 " Maharaj, it is true ; but I am the younger. Poorun Geer stays 
 with the Gooroo." 
 
 " And your name ? " 
 
 "As-Geer." 
 
 " When were you made a cheyla ? " 
 
 "About a year ago ; and I was at Bhaga Nugger and Golconda 
 till lately ; in the house there." 
 
 " And what has brought you here ? " 
 
 " I do not answer questions except upon the Gooroo's business," 
 replied Bulwunt haughtily. 
 
 " Good, thou art discreet, Babajee ! And thy companion ? " 
 
 " He is a novitiate under a vow of silence for a year." 
 
 " Good. Let there be peace between us for a while, till I prove 
 thee true or false." 
 
 Bulwunt was about to make a passionate reply, when the implor- 
 ing look of Fasil met his eye. It seemed to say. Go on with this 
 deception ; and, after a moment's thought, Bulwunt Bao deter- 
 mined to do so, and to refrain from violence so long as it suited his 
 purpose. Beady himself to strike if needful, he might be able to 
 throw Tannajee ofE his guard. 
 
 "Listen," continued Tannajee; "by one question I shall know 
 if thou art true or false. If true, well for thee, Baba ; if false, by 
 the holy ' Mata ! ' hadst thou ten men's lives, and ten others to back 
 thee, thou shouldst die like a dog." 
 
 " That is easier to say than to do," returned Bulwunt in a con- 
 temptuous tone. " I have seen enough of bullies at Bhaga Nugger 
 
A 3IAIIIiATTA TALE. 153 
 
 to fear big words. But speak; if I can answer your question, 
 well ; if not, what is in my hand may reply to anything further." 
 
 Maloosray laughed aloud — a short bitter laugh, very grating to 
 hear. "How much ganja hasfc thou smoked, Baba?" he asked 
 with a sneel* ; " but stay, this is folly. If thou art Poorun Greer's 
 cheyla, thou knowest Pahar Singh ? " 
 
 '' What Pahar Singh ?— him of Itga ? " 
 
 " The same : we call him of Allund." 
 
 "TheHazaree?" 
 
 "Ay — Hazaree, robber, G-osai, murderer, if thou ^vilt. If he is 
 known to thee, why ask? By Khundobal I distrust this fellow," 
 he added to the two others, who closed up to him ; " why did he 
 ask?" 
 
 " I know him," said Bulwunt doggedly, "he is here." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " He was in the temple of Bhowani behind there less than half an 
 hour ago, for I spoke to him." 
 
 " Thou ? why ? " 
 
 " I had a message from the Gooroo for him." 
 
 "And where is he now ? " 
 
 "Nay, how should I know? I saw him there with one Maun 
 Singh, and another, whom I knew not." 
 
 "Strange that he should not have come," continued Maloosray, 
 after a pause. "Art thou sure of the man ? " 
 
 "As sure as that " Bulwunt had nearly spoken his adver- 
 sary's name, but a twitch from Fazil checked him. "As sure as 
 that I see thee, Maharaj." 
 
 " And who am I ? " 
 
 " Nay, I know not, nor care. My message was to Pahar Singh, 
 and it was delivered. I was told to come here to meet some others ; 
 ye may be they. Pahar Singh may be yet at the temple," observed 
 Bulwunt, who trusted to his ingenuity to get rid of one of the men. 
 " Why not send for him ? " 
 
 "A good thought," said Maloosray; "go at once, Abajee," he 
 observed to the smaller of the two men. " Here is my blanket — the 
 rain will not signify, and take one of the men with you." 
 
 "And bring Pahar Singh here, Maharaj ? " asked the man, 
 sheathing his sword, and turning to look for his shoes, which were 
 near a door they had not observed. 
 
 "Yes. Tell him I am here with Bussunt Geer's cheyla, and that 
 there is no fear. If he be gone, come away ; we will await you.'* 
 
 As Maloosray turned slightly to speak the last words, a look of 
 intelligence passed between Fazil and Bulwujit; but though the 
 odds ag*ainst them had been withdrawn, Maloosray's suspicions had 
 apparently not relaxed in the least, for he stood, his weapon ready 
 
154 TABA : 
 
 for action, and his shield advanced before his body, so that Bulwnnt 
 had as yet no opportunity to strike as he desired. His account of 
 himself was plausible enough, but it did not apparently satisfy the 
 wily Mahratta. 
 
 " And Pahar Singh was there, Baba ? " he asked ; " know you for 
 certain ? What message had you to him ? '* 
 
 "Nay, it was easy enough, Maharaj," returned Bulwunt; "all he 
 told me was, to meet Pahar Singh at the temple of Bhowani, near 
 the kullal's quarter, this night, and afterwards to come to Kama's 
 shop near the temple, where I should find some Mahrattas who 
 would give me a message. I have reached Beejapoor in four days, 
 and must return to-morrow. If you are the person I was to meet 
 here, tell me what I am to say, and I will go ; for we need a 
 lodging for the night, and our horses are in the city." 
 ' " Where ? " asked Maloosray. 
 
 "At the Taj Bowree;* but I shall be away by early dawn." 
 
 "But the fort gate will be shut, Baba." 
 
 " I have a friend at the wicket who will let us in. Do not fear 
 for that, Maharaj 1 " replied Bulwunt confidently. 
 
 Maloosray thought for a moment. " It must be true," he added. 
 " Now, Baba, listen ; if I trust thee, couldst thou help the cause 
 Bussunt Geer has at heart? " 
 
 " I will be faithful to him ; is he not my Gooroo ? " 
 
 ' ^ And thy companion ? ' ' 
 
 " Surely, as myself. We are one.'' 
 
 "Then listen," said Maloosray, for once thrown off his guard, 
 and now leaning upon his sword. " I believe this tale could not 
 have been invented, for no one knows, but the Gooroo, why Pahar 
 Singh would venture to Beejapoor, and what need he had to bring 
 me here. I do not care to see Pahar Singh, who is a stupid ruffian ; 
 but if thou wilt deliver my message to Bussunt Geer in four days, 
 it may save trouble to many people, and help what we have in 
 hand. Tell him if he can get the Lalla's papers, to keep them ; if 
 Pahar Singh has them, to make him keep them till Khan Mahomed 
 can redeem them. They will be worth thousands — lakhs, perhaps, if 
 they are what I think. Tell the Gooroo that Sivaji Bhoslay will 
 not be unmindful of his care in this matter ; say also that Pahar 
 Singh has disappointed me, and it is better the message went 
 through thee ; for who can trust one who has a double face, and 
 who is with the King to-day, Sivaji the next, Alumgeer the day 
 after — fickle and covetous, looking only after gold. Yet, if he 
 please to meet me, he knows the place and the time. Hast thou 
 comprehended all this ? " 
 
 * The Eoyal well, which is surrounded by cloisters and rooms, where tra- 
 vellers still put up. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 155 
 
 " Fully ; but thy name ? Tliou mayst be an impostor. Whom 
 shall I tell him I met at this place, and whose message am I to 
 believe ? " 
 
 " He did not tell thee ? He was afraid, perhaps, my name should 
 be heard in Beejapoor ; but I laugh at such precautions. Say that 
 the servant of Sivaji Bhoslay — one Tannajee Maloosray — ^bids thee 
 say what I have told thee." 
 
 " Tannajee " 
 
 ''Ay! Tannajee Maloosray. If thou art from Poona thou mayst 
 chance to have heard of it." 
 
 " Maloosray of Rohela ? " 
 
 " The same ; there is no other Tannajee Maloosray living " 
 
 "And I, villain and murderer! am Bulwunt Rao of Sewnee," he 
 shouted, no longer able to control himself, and assaulting his here- 
 ditary enemy with all his force. " Upon them, Meah, in the name 
 of the King ! Hur, hur ! Mahadeo ! " 
 
 It was well for Maloosray that fche point of Bulwunt's sword 
 caught a projecting rafter of the low roof as it descended, else he 
 had never spoken more. Nevertheless it reached him ; and though 
 a steel chain had been woven into his turban, which prevented a 
 severe wound, the force of the blow somewhat stunned him ; and so 
 fierce and unexpected was the assault, that for an instant his 
 habitual presence of mind failed him. But for an instant only. 
 Ere Bulwunt could repeat the blow, Maloosray had leaped aside, 
 and began to press his impetuous adversary very closely. Fazil, in 
 his turn, had attacked the companion of Maloosray, and found him 
 a wary swordsman ; and the place, confined as it was, afforded no 
 room for rapid movement ; while the light was dim and treacherous. 
 Blows were, however, rapidly exchanged. The quarrel could not 
 continue long : for the shouts and cries of the keeper of the house, 
 and of several of Maloosray's scouts, who were unarmed, aroused 
 the guard, who rushed to the spot with loud exclamations and 
 drawn weapons. 
 
 Tannajee felt in an instant that he had no chance if they entered, 
 and he knew that if taken his execution would be immediate and 
 certain. Just, therefore, as the dark figure of the foremost of the 
 guard was entering the shop behind Bulwunt, and by whose rapid 
 tread and shouts he was somewhat thrown off his guard, Tannajee 
 gathered himself up for a desperate blow, and delivered it with an 
 abusive imprecation. "Once I failed," he said — "not now ! " As 
 he spoke, the heavy weapon descended with all his great strength ; 
 Bulwunt tried to stop it, but it caught the edge, not the face of the 
 shield, and, though he partially succeeded, or he had never breathed 
 more, glancing from the hard and polished edge of the shield, it 
 lighted upon Bulwunt's bare neck and shoulder, cutting down to 
 the bone in a ghastly manner. 
 
15G TAEA 
 
 Maloosray saw with exultation that tlie blood poured forth in a 
 torrent, and, as Bulwunt staggered and fell back, he called to his 
 companion to follow him, and both darted through the back apart- 
 ments into a court leading into a narrow street beyond, and as they 
 passed they closed both the doors behind them. 
 
 "Follow me! — a thousand rupees for Tannajee Maloosray's 
 head ! " cried Fazil to the guard ; and though they pursued him for 
 ii short distance, all chance of capturing him was hopeless in that 
 murky darkness and heavy rain. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 It was no fear of Maloosray or lack of enterprise that caused the 
 young Khan to desist from his pursuit ; but finding that his retainer 
 had not followed him, nor, indeed, any of the guard — the fear that 
 Bulwunt might have been wounded occurred to him, or that he had 
 been apprehended and detained. It was hopeless also to trace 
 Maloosray, or to ascertain which way he and his companion had 
 proceeded, as they issued from the door of the courtyard into the 
 lane behind. Turning back then, after he had run a few paces, by 
 the way he had come, and directed by the clamour inside the house, 
 he passed rapidly through the yard, and entered the room where the 
 quarrel had taken place ; this he found filled with armed men, with 
 several torch-bearers standing around what appeared to be the dead 
 body of his friend. 
 
 Fazil had observed Maloosray's violent attack upon him, and that 
 Bulwunt retreated a step or two to avoid it ; while at the same time 
 he had advanced towards his own antagonist. The consequences of 
 that blow, therefore, were not immediately seen by him. Now in- 
 expressibly shocked and grieved by the result, Fazil heeded no one ; 
 but pressing his way through those assembled, somewhat roughly, 
 he threw himself on his knees beside Bulwunt, who was quite in- 
 sensible, and, laying aside his sword, strove to raise him up. He 
 fiaw indeed A\dth great grief that Bulwunt had received a very severe 
 wound ; and the pool of blood flowing from the cut, which had not 
 been stanched, and his apparently lifeless condition, caused the most 
 lively alarm. 
 
 "Will no one help me? " cried Fazil, looking round, while vainly 
 endeavouring to stanch the blood which occasionally welled from the 
 gaping wo and, as Bulwunt breathed heavily. " For the love of God 
 and the Apostle lend me thy waist-band, good sir ! " he continued, 
 addressing a respectable-looking man who had accompanied the 
 soldiers, and who was, in fact, the petty ofilcer over them ; "or bid 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 157 
 
 some one loose my ^yaistclotll, else lie will perish. Alas, my true 
 friend and brother ! '* 
 
 " And who are yon," returned the man contemptuously, *' who, in 
 the dress of a Kafir Gosai, dares to take the name of the holy Apostle ? 
 — on whom be peace ! — a thief or murderer, I warrant. How say 
 you, brother! He may have done this himself, and now mingles 
 with us to pretend grief and avoid suspicion. Here is some evil, 
 depend upon it ; seize him and bind him fast." 
 
 " Yes, my lords," cried the keeper of the house, who now ventured 
 forward, "bind him fast. That is the fellow who did the murder. 
 They quarrelled over their ganja ; and though I did all I could to 
 prevent them " 
 
 " Peace ! " cried Fazil, accustomed only to command, and who could 
 ill brook the measures threatened ; for several men had closed about 
 him at their officer's order, while another had kicked away his sword, 
 which one of the men was picking up. " Peace, I say ; raise him 
 up ! See, he is badly wounded ; have you no compassion ? He vnW 
 die!" 
 
 "Whether he dies or whether he lives, one would think it was 
 little concern of thine, boy," replied the man ; " and there is blood 
 on his sword, too," he added, as the man who had possessed him- 
 self of it held it up to the light, " Seize him, brother, and bind 
 him fast ; he will have to answer for this in the morning. Who art 
 thou, ill-bom ? " 
 
 As the leader of the party spoke, several of the soldiers had thrown 
 themselves upon Fazil, who still kneeled beside Bulwunt, and, hold- 
 ing him down, pulled the turban rudely from his head, and in an 
 instant bound his arms with it so tightly behind his back that the 
 act caused him immediate and exquisite pain. 
 
 "Who art thoii, knave ? " asked the man again peremptorily. 
 
 " Speak," cried several of the men, shaking him rudely ; " don't 
 you hear what his worship says to you ? Speak ! " 
 
 " It is useless for me now to say who I am," replied Fazil looking 
 round. " Enough that I am one of your own faith, as ye will know 
 when the morning breaks ; — one who may be able to punish you for 
 rough uncivil usage, or reward you if that poor fellow is speedily 
 aided. I care little what happens to myself; but if ye know of a 
 physician near, or a skilful barber, I pray, good sir," he continued, 
 addressing himself to the officer, " send for him, that a valuable life- 
 may be saved." 
 
 This speech was received with a shout of derision by most of the 
 party ; but their leader was not unobservant, and he saw at once, by 
 the manner and speech of Fazil, that he was no common person; 
 certainly not, what his attire proclaimed him to be, a Gosai. There 
 was a chance that he might be some one of rank in disguise. The 
 
158 TARA : 
 
 keeper of the house had declared him to be the man who had struck 
 down the unfortunate Bulwunt ; but, again, the consideration of his 
 return to the spot, and his sincere grief at the poor fellow's wound, 
 went far to assure the officer that his prisoner had not done the deed, 
 and that whoever did it had escaped. These thoughts rapidly oc- 
 curring, caused the Duffadar to doubt whether rigour was needful. 
 " Art thou a Gosai ? " he asked again. " Answer truly ! " 
 
 ** There is no God but God, and Mahomed is the Prophet of God," 
 exclaimed Fazil, repeating the creed, and, as rapidly as possible, in 
 Arabic, the first part of the midnight prayer. " No, good sir, I am 
 no Gosai, but a humble disciple of the Prophet, on whom be peace! " 
 
 " Toba, Toba ! now shame on me that I should have put a Mussul- 
 man to disgrace," exclaimed the Duffadar. *' Loose him, friends — 
 we will see to this ; and run one of ye to the respectable Meer 
 Hoosein, who lives in the alley yonder, and is a skilful doctor ; and, 
 if I mistake not, there is a clever barber, one Nunda, who lives near 
 him, and who is accustomed to matters of this kind. Bid him bring 
 his needles to sew up the wound. And, hark ye, no excuses from 
 either about the rain and lateness of the night ; this is the King's 
 business, and a matter of life and death." 
 
 Then turning to Bulwunt, who had been raised up while Fazil's 
 a.rms were being unbound, and who appeared sensible, he spoke 
 cheerfully to him, biding him not to be afraid, for he would be well 
 treated. 
 
 " Water ! " gasped the poor fellow, looking dreamily about him 
 and pointing to his mouth — " Water ! " 
 
 " Here is a vessel full," cried a bearded soldier, advancing ; " drink, 
 friend." 
 
 " Hold," said Fazil, ** he is a Hindu ; he will not take it from 
 you. Where is the kullal ? Let him get some." 
 
 " Here, great sir," said the man, advancing with a brass vessel 
 full. " Who is he ? May he take water from me ? " 
 
 " He is a Mahratta," replied Fazil. 
 
 *'Then there is no fear," added the kullal, and he knelt down 
 and poured a little into Bulwunt's mouth, who drank it eagerly, 
 and, laying hold of the vessel itself, took a long draught, which 
 seemed to revive him; while the kullal, untying the scarf about 
 his chin, wetted it with water and applied it to the wound ; and, 
 removing his turban, also wetted his head. 
 
 This treatment soon revived Bulwunt, who now sat up and 
 passed his hand dreamily over his eyes, but did not speak. 
 
 "He seems recovering," said the Duffadar to Fazil, who had been 
 pulled to one side and was held by two men, though his arms were 
 untied. " So far thou art fortunate, young sir ; but, in the name 
 of the saints, why didst thou strike him down ? Was this well ? 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 159 
 
 'Twas but yesterday that the Kotwal swore on the Koran that he 
 would have the right arm of the first brawler who should do 
 murder : pity such fate should befall thee, young as thou art ! Are 
 there not enough of the Shah^s enemies abroad to try thy weapons 
 upon, without mixing in midnight brawls? But speak to thy 
 friend, if friend he is. It may have been a hasty blow, deeply 
 regretted." 
 
 " Sir, you are under some extraordinary mistake," said Fazil, 
 who had several times tried to interrupt the speaker. " I am not 
 the man who did this. Ho! Bulwunt, Bulwunt!" he continued, 
 "speak if you can, and fear not. I am here, and these are friends." 
 
 "Meah," said the poor fellow very faintly, "I am badly hurt. I 
 may die, Ai Narayun ! Ai Bhugwan ! — Water, Meah ! I am faint 
 and sick," — and he fell back almost insensible. 
 
 " Loose my arms, good sir," cried Fazil impatiently ; '' I am no 
 thief to run away. If there be a Hindu among you, give him some 
 water. I may not do so." 
 
 "Let him go," said the Duffadar to the men, "there is some 
 mistake here, I think, and no enmity between them ; and do thou, 
 Jewun Singh, fetch a vessel of water — ^he will drink from thy hand 
 freely." 
 
 Fazil's first act on being released was to examine the wound, 
 which was severe, and required care. The sabre of Maloosray had 
 cut deep into the neck, close to the shoulder, and the loss of blood 
 had been very great. A little higher up and the wound must have 
 been instantly fatal. To wring out the scarf which the kullal had 
 placed upon it, and replace it wetted, was Fazil's first care, and in 
 this the Duffadar and some of the men now lent a willing hand. 
 Fresh cool water was also brought by the man who had been sent 
 for it, and Bulwunt Bao, having again drunk freely, sat up sup- 
 ported by his young lord. 
 
 " Ask him now, Duffadar Sahib," said Fazil, " whether it was I 
 who wounded him, and, on his reply, give me liberty or not as 
 seems good to you. Speak, Bulwunt Bao, did I hurt you ? " 
 
 "N'owmay his tongue rot who says so," replied the wounded man, 
 looking wildly about him. "But thou art safe, Meah! — and did 
 they escape ?" 
 
 " Who ? " asked the Daffadar sharply. 
 
 " Tannajee Maloosray, the friend of Sivaji Bhoslay," returned 
 Bulwunt. " People know of him, perhaps ! " 
 
 "Tannajee Maloosray? Thou art dreaming, friend," said the 
 Duffadar, with an incredulous smile. " Tannajee dared no more 
 enter Beejapoor than — than " 
 
 "Than you, good sir, dare go to him, I suppose," said Fazil, 
 ending the sentence. "Nevertheless, he was here, and but for a 
 mischance would have been lying dead there." 
 
IGO TABA 
 
 *' Tannajee here!" mused the Duffadar; "this must, then, be 
 some deep plot, and the citj is full o£ plots. Sir," he said to the 
 jonng Khan, " the mention of that name, and all the events we 
 •have seen, cause many suspicions in my mind which I am not com- 
 petent to dispose of ; therefore, whoever thou art, release is impos- 
 sible till the morning, when I must give an account of all matters 
 to the Kotwal, who has cautioned the guards to be watchful against 
 Mahratta parties and Moghul emissaries." 
 
 "Willingly," replied Fazil. "I could not leave him now, nor 
 till his wound is dressed. As for myself, I am Fazil, the son of 
 Afzool Khan, though I may not tell why I am disguised as an 
 infidel, and why found in this place ; suffice it to say it was in the 
 King's service." 
 
 "Now may I receive my lord's pardon," cried the old man, pre- 
 senting humbly the hilt of his sword as an offering. "Why did he 
 not tell me sooner, and this offence and presumption would have been 
 spared ? Who among us does not know the valiant Afzool Khan, 
 and have not all heard of his son Fazil Kian, the pillar of the 
 state?" he added to the men, who fell back, saluting the young man 
 with mingled curiosity and respect. 
 
 " Give me some water," said Fazil. " This dress and appearance 
 are against me, Duffadar," he continued, laughing; "and if I had 
 told who I was when ye seized me first, my arms might even have 
 been bound a screw tighter perhaps. It does not signify now, for 
 you only did your duty, as I can bear witness. Ah, the water is 
 come — pour it over my hands, good fellow, and after the paint has 
 disappeared, some of ye may know me." 
 
 " I know you, my lord," said a youth who pressed forw^ard, as 
 Fazil turned again to the light from the door where he had been 
 washing his face. Yes, father," he continued to the Duffadar, " this 
 is truly the brave young Khan — no doubt of that ; " and he stepped 
 forward and touched Fazil's feet. 
 
 " Too dangerous, too dangerous," said the Duffadar, " for one 
 like him. Yes, thou art right, Ashruf — now I know the face too ; 
 but the disguise was perfect ; who could have guessed it ? Too 
 dangerous : and thou the only son of the noble Khan ! Ah, sir, 
 had any evil befallen thee 
 
 "ITo matter if I had died," cried Fazil, "it would have been in the 
 Shah's service ; but here are the physician and barber, and my 
 friend's wound must be dressed; and do one of ye see for that 
 kuUal, who knows more of Tannajee than any one else. Where 
 is he?" 
 
 While some of the men went to search for the kullal, the barber, 
 having trimmed the lamp and increased the light by several wicks, 
 unfastened a leathern case containing razors and other instruments, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 161 
 
 and selecting two crooked needles fitted witli waxed silk thread, put 
 them aside, while he washed the wound clean in a careful and con- 
 fident manner. A few stitches brought the lips of the cut together, 
 after which it was bound up with fresh leaves of the neem tree, 
 which cooled the wound and refreshed the patient. 
 
 All this having been effected, Bulwunt Eao was carefully raised 
 up and borne by several of the men to the chowree, or guard- room, 
 which was hard by, but at the opposite side of the quarter to that 
 in which the Lalla had been lodged. 
 
 CHAPTER XXY. 
 
 While search was being made for the kullal, FaziFs thoughts 
 reverted painfully to his father and sister. He could not leave 
 Bul^Tint without exposing himself to further suspicion; but he 
 might at least send news of his safety, and his application to the 
 Duifadar for a messenger was promptly acceded to. 
 
 "Surely, Khan," was the prompt reply, "I could hardly refuse 
 your going yourself, if you asked; but it is better you stayed. 
 Men's tongues are bad, and I am only a humble man. Verily I will 
 send my own son Ashruf, and. he will do the errand carefully. He 
 is gone — that is, my son Ashruf — my lord, to see the barber home, 
 and will be here directly. A brave youth, O Khan, and with a 
 large heart. Does my lord remember the Friday's fight with the 
 Moghuls in the plain by AUapoor ? Well, in that my boy did good 
 service, and in killing one of the enemy got a sharp cut himself 
 over the arm, but he did not care for it ; and was he not fighting on 
 the strength of the King's salt ? " 
 
 "Indeed, I remember it well, Duffadar," returned Fazil, "for I 
 was beaten down, and wellnigh killed myself, when this poor friend 
 of mine here rescued me. How, Bulwunt ! was it not that day ?" 
 
 "Ay, Meah, that very day," he said faintly; "the last battle 
 Bul\\aint Rao will ever see in thy service. I am very faint, Meah. 
 These films before my eyes seem to precede death. I pray thee 
 leave me not here." 
 
 "Nay, fear not," replied Fazil; "the barber said there was no 
 danger of life. Be of good heart, Bulwunt — no bones are cut ; 
 and though there is much weakness from loss of blood, you will 
 soon be well. Get to sleep, we shall not leave before daylight." 
 
 "I do not fear, Meah. Death has no pain or regret for me. My 
 only wish v/as to die in the service of your house. I am the last of 
 my race, and have no one to mourn for me like thee, Meah ! I 
 would live for thee if it be the will of God ; and but for this, death 
 would be welcome." 
 
162 TAHA : 
 
 "Peace ! do not speak, friend," returned Fazil; "go to sleep, and 
 tliou wilt be strong ere morning. Does not the barber, I tell tbee, 
 say there is no danger ? so be comforted." 
 
 " None perhaps of life, Meah ; but this arm, which was all I had 
 to live for, it will never hold sword more, Meah — never, never 1 " 
 and he sobbed like a child. 
 
 "Fear not," cried the Duffadar cheerily; " I have worse wounds 
 on me than that, Rao Sahib, and yet my arm can strike a blow for 
 the Shah ; so be comforted, and get to sleep." 
 
 Bulwunt sighed. "If I had only slain him," he said, "and 
 revenged the dead, then I could have died ; or if this arm had gone 
 for that, its best service in life would have been done. I shall never 
 have such a chance again, Meah. But the gods have need of him, 
 and he has the protection of Devi. He and Sivaji Bhoslay both 
 have it, as ye will see hereafter, Meah. Who can resist them ?" 
 
 " This is the youth of whom I spake. Khan Sahib," said the 
 Duffadar ; "a brave boy — a brave boy he always was." 
 
 And truly there was much in the appearance of the youth to cor- 
 roborate this. An open, dare-devil, good-humoured countenance, 
 with bright merry eyes, which, as he spoke, seemed to close up till 
 two bright sparks only were visible ; and a wide bow-shaped mouth, 
 about which fun, and perhaps some mischief, played in perpetual 
 smiles, conveyed an impression of recklessness of danger, as a lithe 
 rapidity of movement did of extreme activity of body, and perhaps 
 endurance. 
 
 "A brave youth, doubtless, Duffadar Sahib," said Fazil; "his eye 
 speaks for him ; a boy to be proud of. How sayst thou, lad ? Wilt 
 thou do an errand for the son of Afzool Khan ? " 
 
 "Ay will I," replied the boy promptly, while he presented his 
 sword-hilt to the young Khan, as his father had done ; "and gladly 
 too ; and if my lord will pardon me for saying it, I have long kn6wn 
 him. Who does not know the brave son of a brave father ? Ah, 
 Meah Sahib ! if I had only been on a horse when Afzool Khan's 
 Paigah dashed into the Moghul's that Friday, I would have struck a 
 blow with you. I watched you as you rode by close to the standard- 
 bearer. Then there was a fierce fight, and men said you were cut 
 down. Ah ! I was only on foot, for we are too poor to ride ; and 
 I was — a little wounded," he added, dropping his eyes modestly, 
 " and father led me away. But for that, Meah Sahib, I would have 
 been with you, even on foot." 
 
 "Boldly spoken, and with a true heart, Ashruf!" exclaimed 
 Fazil ; " and if you do this errand carefully and quickly for me, you 
 shall ride ever after with me in my troop — that is, if your father 
 will permit it. Afzool Khan's stables have enough horses to find 
 one for you. Of that,' however, more hereafter. Go now to the 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 163 
 
 house, ask for Goolab the nurse; tell her I am safe, but that 
 Bulwunt Rao is wounded badly, and a palankeen must be sent 
 for him with all speed, and my clothes and shawls put into it. 
 If my father be asleep, he is not to be awakened, but my sister 
 must know that I am safe. Now begone; here is my ring, 
 which will pass you through the fort. Let us see how soon yon 
 will return." 
 
 "Come, Shekh Hoosein," said the lad, addressing a young man 
 standing near; "we had better be two. Tie up thy waist-band 
 tight, for we shall not draw breath till we reach the city gate. 
 Come!" 
 
 Both loosened their waist-scarfs, and retied them tighter, and after 
 a few words of caution from the Duffadar, they dashed down the 
 street at full speed. 
 
 As they left, several of the men came in, leading the kullal by the 
 end of his turban, with which his arms were tightly tied down. 
 Bareheaded, covered with mud, and bleeding slightly from his nose, 
 his face wearing an expression of fright and pain combined, Rama 
 was a very different-looking person to what he had appeared when 
 Fazil Khan and Bulwunt entered his shop. His first impulse was to 
 cast himself on the ground before Fazil, and lie at full length moan- 
 ing. The men who were with him did not interfere. The act was 
 a deprecation of anger which it would have been unmannerly to 
 deny. 
 
 " Get up," cried Fazil; "get up, knave and liar! Say, was it I 
 who wounded that poor fellow yonder ?" 
 
 " Pardon ! pardon ! JSToble Meah, pardon ! Your slave will not 
 rise till he has pardon," cried the man abjectly. "It was all a 
 mistake ; and how could I know the son of Af zool Khan ? Pardon ! 
 and I will tell all I know." 
 
 " If thou dost not, hound ! thou wilt hang upon the highest branch 
 of the Goruk Imlee to feed the crows before morn," replied Fazil. 
 " Get up ! If thou tellest the truth, I give thee kowl; if not — if I 
 detect one word of lie, nothing can save thee. Dost thou hear ? 
 Rise ! " 
 
 " Get up, Kafir ! " cried the man who held the turban, giving it a 
 jerk, which caused a corresponding exclamation of pain. " Don't 
 you hear what my lord says to you ? He will give you pardon if 
 you speak the truth. Get up, and tell him all. My lord," he con- 
 tinued to Fazil, " he knows much, and he has some papers which one 
 of the fellows — Maloosray, he says — dropped as he left the house. 
 We wanted them, but he said you would pardon him if he gave them 
 himself. We found him hiding in the wood stack near his still, and 
 the fool must needs struggle and try to wi^estle with one of our men, 
 and so got a fall; but he is not hurt." 
 
164 TARA 
 
 " Loose my amis, noble Meali — tell them to loose my arms. They 
 are swelling already, and I am sick with pain,'* said the kullal, 
 rising. 
 
 " If my lord allows me, I will loose him. There ! '* continned the 
 soldier, on receiving Fazil's sign in the affirmative ; "see thon speak 
 the truth, else I will tie them tighter than ever, and they mil not 
 be loosened again while thon art alive." 
 
 "My lord, don't threaten me, or I shall lose my senses," said the 
 knllal, the horrible vision of hanging, as he had seen many hang to 
 the branches of that famons tree, coming vividly to his mind. " If 
 there be a good Hindu among you, give me a drink of water. Ah, 
 my arms ! my arms ! " he cried, sitting down again, and sobbing as 
 the rope was loosened. 
 
 "Here is water," said one of the men, advancing with a brass 
 vessel full. " I am a Rajpoot — drink." 
 
 The draught refreshed him, and he began his tale. It was in the 
 main correct, and as we have already related it. " Tannajee and his 
 companions had been at his shop only a few minutes before Fazil 
 and Bulwunt came in. They had been very careful, and before they 
 entered the house placed scouts to watch all the approaches. They 
 spoke in low tones, and, beyond a few words now and then, he had 
 caught nothing of their conversation. All that he could gather was, 
 that Pahar Singh and a Gosai from Tooljapoor were expected, and 
 they were so impatient for their arrival, that two of the men had by 
 turns gone to see after them." 
 
 " Had they ever been at your shop before ? " asked Fazil. 
 
 " Yesterday one of the men was there twice to say the place would 
 be wanted in the evening," replied the kullal; "and he gave me ten 
 rupees to say I had neither spirits nor ganja ; so I told every one 
 I had none, and no one stayed but you." 
 
 "You might have suspected they were after no good," said the 
 Duffadar. "Why did you not give warning here ?" 
 
 "Ah, sir, I am a poor fellow," returned the man, "with a large 
 family ; and if gentlemen sometimes like a private room to smoke, 
 to play, or to talk in, am I to forbid them ? Would they not get it 
 elsewhere?" 
 
 "True enough — thou art not to blame," said Fazil; "but the 
 papers — what of them ? " 
 
 "After you were taken away, my lord," replied the kullal, "I 
 took the lamp inside towards the door, for I thought I saw blood on 
 the ground, which indeed there was ; and one of the two men who 
 escaped must have been wounded. I followed the trace of blood to 
 the door of the yard, and there I found this little bag, noble sir ; 
 here it is." 
 
 As he spoke he produced a small silken bag, apparently filled with 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 165 
 
 papers, from under his waistcloth, and handed it to Fazil. In it were 
 several letters, and bundles of accounts written in the Mahratta 
 character. 
 
 " I cannot read these, and they may be of importance ; so we must 
 wait, for this poor fellow of mine is asleep,'' said Fazil. 
 
 ''No, Meah, I was dozing while you spoke, and am easier now, for 
 the bandage has cooled my wound. Papers ? What papers ? " said 
 Bulwunt, rising slightly, and supporting himself on his left amu 
 " Grive them to me." 
 
 " There are some in Mahratta, which Tannajee, or one of his com- 
 panions, dropped in their flight. Can you make out what they are, 
 Bulwunt? " asked Fazil. 
 
 " I will try, Meah ; put the light here. Stay ; open them separately. 
 I forget that I have but one arm now." 
 
 The papers were given to him one by one, and his eye glanced 
 over several in succession as of no importance ; but one appeared to 
 interest him greatly, and Fazil observed his eyes return, to the com- 
 mencement after having looked over it hastily, and his lips to move 
 as if reading it word by word, while the expression of his face 
 changed to one of intense concern. 
 
 "Yes, Meah, this is indeed important," he said; "but no one 
 must hear it but thyself or thy father. Listen," he continued, 
 whispering; "that is from the old Gosai at Tooljapoor, about those 
 letters the King has obtained. Those whom they concern are men- 
 tioned in feigned names, and it will puzzle me not a little to under- 
 stand their meaning fully ; but we have a clue in what occurred at 
 the temple, and I will unravel it when we get home. Now my eyes 
 are too weary. Stay, there may be something from Sivaji. . . . No," 
 he continued, after he had looked at them one by one, "there are 
 none from him, but several from Yessjee, who is his friend. No, they 
 are too wary to write letters ; but no doubt there is much intrigue 
 afoot, Meah — much." 
 
 " Enough," replied Fazil; " now go to sleep, Bulwunt, till daylight 
 brings people from the house. I too will rest, if I can, after all this 
 excitement, with your permission, Duffadar Sahib " 
 
 But the old man had lain down on the floor while the papers were 
 being examined, and was fast asleep ; so also were the men of the 
 guard, except one sitting at ihe doorway as sentinel, the gurgle of 
 whose hooka mingled with an occasional snore from a sleeper on the 
 floor. Those about the kuUal, who had been removed to a little 
 distance, asked how he was to be disposed of. . 
 
 " Take him to his house," said Fazil, " and keep him there till he 
 is wanted. Go with them, Rama," he continued to the man, " and 
 be ready when I send for thee. I will answer to the Kdtwal for the 
 night's events." 
 
166 TABA : 
 
 "That is all I wanted," lie replied. "My lord is verj kind and 
 merciful." 
 
 " Not yet. I have niiicli to ask and mncli to hear. If thou canst 
 speak the truth, well for thee ; if not, beware ! " 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 How slowly and wearily night passes when a sense of impending 
 evil overpowers sleep, and renders every faculty sharply sensible 
 to sounds and impressions otherwise of ordinary occurrence, — when 
 a thousand vague phantasies flit before the imagination hardly more 
 definite than the keenly-painful thoughts they awaken ! How diffi- 
 cult thus to endure delay or uncertainty, and to account for causes 
 of either, so as to gain consolation or assurance to one's self, far less 
 to impart comfort to others whose fears and apprehensions are per- 
 haps greater than our own. 
 
 Thus heavily was hour after hour counted by Afzool Khan and 
 his fair daughter in the apartment we have already described. The 
 Khan busied himself, or seemed to do so, with a pile of Persian 
 papers, on some of which, from time to time, he made notes : but it 
 was easy for his daughter to see that his eye often followed vacantly 
 the lines of the writing, and that his thoughts wandered far from 
 the subjects before him. 
 
 The Khan's wife, Lurlee, had come, and been dismissed wdth an 
 injunction not to interrupt him, and that he should be late. Zyna 
 did not disturb her father, and found a partial occupation in some 
 embroidery, which helped to dispel for a time her fears for her 
 brother ; gradually, however, as the night wore on, it was easy for 
 her to see that her father's anxiety increased. It was true that 
 Fazil's return was not expected till after midnight ; but that, under 
 the thought of his perilous errand, brought no consolation with it, 
 and she sat watching the expression of her father's countenance, 
 yet not so as to be observed, and withdrawing her eyes when he 
 looked up. A few careless words fell from time to time from both, 
 and a few entreaties by the Khan to his daughter that she would 
 take rest, were met by requests that she might be allowed to share 
 his watch, for that she had promised her brother to await his return. 
 
 Thus midnight came, and with it sleep to the young girl, that 
 would not be denied. She had folded her scarf about her person, 
 and lay down where she was ; and her father now watched his 
 sleeping child, almost wondering at her beauty, as the light fell upon 
 her, and projected a shadow from the long eyelashes upon her soft 
 downy cheek. So, with the image of the dead before him — for ho 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 167 
 
 remembered tier mother even sncb. an one as lier child — Afzool 
 Khan's thoughts wandered far back into the past, — ^f ar back to the 
 time when, with life before him and easy competence, the servant of 
 a noble and united kingdom, the future had not concerned him, 
 save only to wish that the happiness he possessed might endure. 
 
 But that bright future was long past. The present was dark, 
 uncertain, menacing. Had there been any one to listen, the bitter 
 sob of the old Khan — a sob of exquisite pain as his thoughts alter- 
 nated between the happy past and a gloomy future — might have 
 been heard, — such pain as those alone can know whose affections 
 and memories of the past arise most vividly to augment any new 
 suffering that may be present. The years of happiness in his 
 home, which might have been his lot had his wife been spared to 
 him, rose to the mind of Afzool Khan as a sad mockery ; for though 
 the grave had long held her whose fair form seemed renewed before 
 him, it appeared almost as if she were again present to him in all 
 her beauty. 
 
 " Thou art a fair blossom. May God love thee ! May the holy 
 saints keep thee ! May thy mother watch thee, my child ! " mur- 
 mured the Khan, as he bent over his sleeping daughter. " Even 
 such was thy mother in those first days, as guileless and as beautiful. 
 Nay, thou art but the copy, Zyna. And had she but lived to see 
 thee and thy brother as ye are it would have been well. Yet why 
 not well as it is ? " he resumed after a pause ; " surely Fate is good 
 whatever it be. If my heart warns me of coming ill — nay, if he too 
 be gone from me, well ; he is with her, and the old man will soon 
 follow, and there will be peace, peace, peace ! Yet I would live 
 still a little for thee, my child — only for thee ! else the first shot or 
 keen sword-cut were welcome to Afzool Khan." 
 
 So he thought and watched, and at times gently fanned his child 
 with the papers in his hand that her sleep might be the lighter, and 
 again resumed his occupation of reading. All was silent, but the 
 night wind sighed mournfully through the open trelliswork of the 
 window, and seemed rising ; and as he listened, there were mutter- 
 ings of a coming storm. 
 
 Opening one of the small casements, he looked out. The city 
 was dark beneath him, and still ; even the dogs seemed to have 
 gone to sleep. Far distant, the wailing howls of a pack of jackals 
 came upon his ear fitfully, and again ceased as the sound was blo^vn 
 away by the wind. Over the face of the sky the wild dark clouds 
 were now hurrying ragidly along, disclosing here and there a star, 
 which was again as instantly hidden. In the west, the horizon was 
 black and threatening, and the edges of a heavy bank of cloud, now 
 fast rising pile over pile, were illumined hke burnished silver, as 
 lightning flashed rapidly through them, lighting up the city, and 
 
lAA^ 
 
 168 TARA 
 
 tlie bold domes and tall minarets of tlie mosques and mausoleums, 
 with a sickly glare for an instant, to disappear as rapidly as a 
 thought. One of the night-storms of the season was evidently 
 approaching, and the cool fresh wind was grateful to the Khan, as 
 he leaned forth and looked into the void of darkness abstractedly. 
 
 The papers he had been perusing had been the subject of consult- 
 ation that day at the court between the King, his Secretary, and 
 himself. They were reports from the governors of the west and 
 north-west provinces — a country which Afzool Khan had governed 
 some years before, and knew perfectly — and related to a growing 
 disaffection and a rising spirit among the people of the mountain 
 valleys, which could not be accounted for save by the intrigues and 
 machinations of Sivaji Bhoslay and his adherents. Sivaji, as a 
 restless youth, had before risen in petty insurrection, and had 
 resisted small forces sent against him, but had renewed his fidelity 
 to the State, and had been pardoned. Notwithstanding, however, 
 he was believed to be active in evil designs ; and report assigned to 
 him constant communication and intrigue with the Moghul emperor 
 Aurungzeeb, as well as endeavours, on his own account, to excite 
 the people. 
 Z' Afzool Khan was no indifferent spectator of these events. He 
 ^ was one of those who, with others of his rank, had received profuse 
 promises from the Emperor during his first invasion of the king- 
 dom ; and though Aurungzeeb's intentions had not been finally 
 declared, yet Afzool Khan knew that if he favoured his cause, even 
 secretly, for the present, he was certain hereafter, should the 
 .Emperor prevail, of high rank and rewards far beyond those which 
 jhe now possessed, and also that the weight and influence of a few 
 pnen like himself would at once turn the scale against Beejapoor, 
 rwhich already trembled in the balance. 
 
 I The Moghul party, he well knew, was strong in the city. Many 
 
 /who had been disappointed of court influence almost openly pro- 
 
 / fessed it : they had nothing to lose and everything to hope for. 
 
 / But there were others — like the prime-minister. Khan Mahomed, 
 
 for instance — who, in the enjoyment of large estates, high com- 
 
 1 mands, and immense wealth, still desired more ; nay, even the 
 
 partition of the kingdom, that they might hold what they possessed 
 
 as independent princes. 
 
 Again, Aurungzeeb's zeal for the cause of his faith was a well- 
 i known element of his character. He was a strict Soonnee, who held 
 • the heretical belief of the Sheeas in hereditary hatred ; and the 
 sight of the noble domes of the mosques at Beejapoor filled him 
 with a fervour of bigotry even stronger than the lust of territorial 
 dominion, to subvert the royal house which held those detested 
 tenets. 
 
A MAHMATTA TALE, 169 
 
 Afzool Khan was also an orthodox Soonnee. He looked with 
 ahomination upon the Sheea ceremonies at the great mosque. He 
 could not join in prayer there, nor could he enter save with the 
 certainty of being offended and insulted by the religious ceremonies 
 of his King. It was equally certain that the doctrines he professed 
 belonged to a strong party in the city, who on all possible occasions 
 urged amalgamation of the country with the empire of Delhi, in 
 order to insure the supremacy of their own creed. Yet he was true. 
 
 Like him, the minister Khan Mahomed had been faithful through" 
 many temptations ; but of late, though he still preserved a fair and 
 honest appearance with the young King, rumour had become busy 
 with his name, and, intimate as was their friendship, the old Khan's 
 trust in him was much shaken under an accumulated mass of 
 suspicion, though, as yet, nothing definite had transpired. Hitherto 
 also the minister's apparently unflinching adherence to what was 
 feared to be a falling dynasty, and to a, government which, under 
 foreign invasion, and internal disunion and distraction, had become 
 weakened, had retained Afzool Khan's respect and affection ; for 
 this, combined with Khan Mahomed's professed devotion to the 
 young King, who, with excellent dispositions and a fair promise of 
 ability, was yet without experience, formed a strong bond of union 
 between them. 
 
 Private friendship, and the free intercourse of camps and. battle- 
 fields, had existed for many years ; and as their children grew up 
 together, and the beauty of Zyna became notorious, the minister's 
 son, whom we have already mentioned, pressed upon his father, 
 very importunately, the necessity of formally asking her in marriage. 
 But under his own secret hopes of the eventual ascendancy of the 
 Moghuls, and his convictions that the obstinate fidelity of Afzool 
 Khan would sooner or later lead to a serious breach between them, 
 the minister had as yet refrained from taking any steps in the 
 matter ; and on his own part Afzool Khan had been equally guarded. 
 
 The events of the night, however, would disclose the real tendency 
 of the Wuzeer's conduct ; and the thought that there wxre grounds 
 of more than ordinary suspicion, could not- fail to increase the feeling 
 that he was actually guilty, which for some time past had lain at 
 Afzool Khan's heart. He had fancied, too, a growing coldness on 
 the part of the Wuzeer tow^ards him, unlike the spirit of their former 
 free and unrestrained intercourse ; and he could not fail to observe, 
 in his visits to his court, that men to whom rumour attached the 
 same suspicions as to the Wuzeer, were preferred as counsellors to 
 himself. 
 
 All this, however, had as yet produced no personal disagreement : 
 it was only mistrust, arising from suspicion on both sides ; but the 
 Wuzeer well knew that, if his designs were discovered for certain in 
 
u>- 
 
 irO TAEA : 
 
 any degree, lie should find in Afzool Khan a powerful and bitter 
 enemy, whose fiery temper and habit of prompt action wonld make 
 him a far more dangerous enemy than the young King himself. 'No 
 one, also, knew better than the Wuzeer the temptations to which 
 Afzool Khan had been exposed, and through which he had come 
 as yet unsullied. He knew that in the Moghul army many ties of 
 clanship and acquaintance existed for the Afghan, which the service 
 of Beejapoor did not afford, and that the Emperor, desiring to gain 
 one so faithful, brave, and skilled in the field, who was also a Soon- 
 nee, had offered rank, titles, and estates, with his personal friendship 
 and confidence, as yet in vain. 
 
 There had been times when Afzool Khan, wearied by petty slights, 
 uncertain as to the future existence of Beejapoor as a kingdom, and 
 comparing the wide field of honour in the imperial service with the 
 narrow circle of Beejapoor, had felt tempted to accept these offers. 
 But the thought had been as often repelled, and had led to a more 
 steadfast and more healthy attachment to the young King ; and 
 when Ali Adil Shah, who had but recently succeeded his father 
 Mahmood, displayed the possession of vigour and manly thought, 
 and his disposition and talent appeared really equal to the main- 
 tenance of his dignity, — Afzool Khan's fidelity was no longer doubt- 
 ful, and his openly-evinced confidence in his King had rallied the 
 wavering attachment of many. 
 
 A more than ordinary proof of this had been that day given by 
 the King in public Durbar. The Wuzeer was then absent from 
 Beejapoor on service, watching the frontier, with a force to oppose 
 Moghul incursions ; and the King had, as an unusual act, invited 
 Afzool Khan into his private chamber, to discuss the contents of the 
 letters of which we have already seen the Khan in possession. They 
 were many, and on many subjects ; and the King's trust in the old 
 noble could not have been more heartily evinced than by permitting 
 him to take them home for perusal alone. 
 
 They were a tangled skein of intrigue, alarm, and disaffection, of 
 exaggerated rumour and detail of actual occurrences, which were 
 not without signification in the aggregate. If, in reliance on the 
 gradually increasing ability of the King, Afzool Khan had no longer 
 hesitated, but, with the sincerity of an open and faithful heart, 
 showed that he for one no longer doubted, and that his allegiance 
 would be true — others as high in rank, and holding equal or greater 
 territorial possessions, were not so ; and, as we have already stated, 
 there was much disaffection, not only in the city, but in the army, 
 and also in the provinces. 
 
 So long as the Mogliuls had beleagured Beejapoor, men of all par- 
 ties, and, we may add, creeds also, had united in the common bond 
 of self-preservation; well knowing the plunder and devastation 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 171 
 
 wMcli would ensue if the city were taken by storm or in tlie conrse^ 
 of actual war. This also had been foreseen by the Emperor ; and his 
 advices from the traitors within, at the head of whom was the- 
 Wuzeer, led him to the conclusion that nothing was to be gained by 
 open force at present. Enough that the seed of disaffection had 
 been sown, which he trusted would, in a comparatively short period, 
 bear the fruit he desired. On these considerations, Aurungzeeb had 
 raised the siege, and lay at a distance in seeming inaction ; neverthe« 
 less watching the course of events not only with eagerness, but with 
 astute foresight and untiring intrigue. Emissaries were busy in the 
 city, and among the wavering and discontented gained many con-' 
 verts. Money, promises and assurances of protection were freely 
 lavished, not only among the courtiers, but among the frontier chief- 
 tains, powerful tributaries, feudatories, and zemindars, who possessed 
 influence over the people, and wherever else it was possible. Village 
 authorities were also canvassed ; hereditary rights and immunities 
 guaranteed, with confirmation of former grants from the Beejapoor 
 princes. 
 
 All such were openly encouraged to revolt, to withhold payment 
 of revenue, and to harass the government of the State by every 
 means in their power. During the confusion attendant upon the 
 Moghul invasion, many districts had been wrested from the State 
 which could not be regained except at great cost and by the employ- 
 ment of separate forces, which weakened the general efficiency of 
 the army. In some instances, those who had recovered and held 
 such districts, had themselves retained possession of them, fortifying 
 the village ghurrees or castles, occupying and repairing hill-forts, 
 under pretence of assisting the King's cause, but in reality to 
 strengthen their own positions. Of such, was the Mahratta prince, 
 Sivaji Bhoslay. 
 
 The letters which Afzool E^an was perusing were of the tenor 
 consequent upon such events. They were chiefly from governors of 
 provinces, forwarding reports from their subordinates to make their 
 own views more intelligible. Most applied for the assistance of 
 fresh troops, permission to raise local levies, and funds to pay them ; 
 while they gave accounts of opposition and imperial intrigue, which 
 were only too certain and progressive. Others detailed plots and 
 rumours, or preparations for revolt which should be checked. 
 
 Around Beejapoor itself there was perhaps no apprehension ; bufr 
 everywhere at a distance the same confusion existed, and it seemed 
 to Afzool Khan as though it were impossible to provide against the 
 spread of growing disaffection which, if he had before only partially 
 guessed, was here developed in all its hideous and most perplexing 
 detail. Letter after letter was thus read and thrown aside, till, weary 
 of the subject, and sick at heart with apprehension, unable also to 
 
172 TABA 
 
 determine upon any definite course of state policy, lie had put aside 
 the correspondence, and was reviewing the detail in his own mind as 
 he looked out on the city from the window. 
 
 The question to be determined in particular was as regarded the 
 condition of the country to the west and north-west, which hereto- 
 fore had given no cause for alarm. When Af zool Khan himself had 
 governed it, he found the people, if ruder in manner than those 
 nearer the capital, yet peaceable and industrious farmers ; and be- 
 yond checking local feuds, there was little need for exertion or 
 apprehension of any kind. Now the governor wrote of large assem- 
 blages of armed men, of habitual indifference to the authority of the 
 officers of the State, and of the growing influence of Sivaji Bhoslay, 
 before which he felt it next to impossible to maintain his own posi- 
 tion or collect the revenue, much less to bring him to subjection. 
 
 The latest letters, too, described emissaries from the imperial 
 camp having been traced in disguise to Sivaji's strongholds among 
 the mountains, and an increasing belief among the people that he 
 was destined to become a great prince for the subversion of all 
 Mahomedans ; while it was very evident that, by some secret means, 
 they were being organized either to revolt for Sivaji himself, or in 
 the cause of the Emperor. 
 
 The writer was a personal friend of Afzool Khan's — one whom he 
 had no reason to believe would write either from fear or from an in- 
 correct view of existing circumstances ; and on this account his 
 recent letters had not only become more important, but in a higher 
 degree more interesting. He had forces at his disposal sufficient to 
 repress any outbreak, but his knowledge of the people and the 
 country, and the use they might be put to by the Emperor against 
 the State at any critical moment, had confirmed apprehensions under 
 which he had written, temperately but firmly, to the King, not to 
 neglect or underrate those signs of the times ; and to seek among the 
 counsellors and nobles at Beejapoor such advice in respect to the pre- 
 vention of local disaffection as might be practicable. 
 I'.. "If Fazil is right," murmured the Khan to himself, as he re- 
 volved these questions in his mind, " we may obtain confirmation of 
 the designs of the Mahrattas and the Emperor, which will assist the 
 comprehension of these letters. But it is strange that they have any 
 common cause, or that such discordant elements should unite, even 
 with the hope of mutual assistance." 
 
 A low cry from his daughter aroused him from his reverie. As 
 he drew himself \vithin the lattice, Zyna had raised herself, and was 
 looking about scared and half awake. " Fazil ! " she said. " O 
 father, I dreamed I saw him laying before me, looking as though he 
 were dead, and then he seemed to change to you ; and I was terrified 
 and screamed out." 
 
A MA HE ATT A TALE, 173 
 
 '' Be calm, Zjna," lie replied, supporting lier tenderly ; " tlion liast 
 been miicli excited, and needest rest, and no wonder tliat an evil 
 dream came to thee. Fear not ; lie is safe, and I am beside tliee.'* 
 
 " Safe, father ? then lie is returned, and I have been sleeping 
 carelessly." 
 
 " No, daughter, he is not come yet. He has most likely taken 
 refuge from the storm, which was severe." 
 
 " In my dream I heard the thunder, father, but it seemed as 
 though it were cannon. I marvel that I slept through all." 
 
 " And soundly too, Zyna ; but look, the morning will be fair for 
 their return," and he opened the casement. 
 
 The black pall of clouds which had hung over the city had passed 
 away, and the wind had fallen, except a cool gentle breeze which 
 blew freshly in at the window, and rustled among the foliage of the 
 garden. Here and there the silence was broken by a gentle and 
 distant murmur in the city, for, early as it was, some were already 
 astir. 
 
 " I will watch now, father," said Zyna ; " surely you have not 
 slept at all. I am quite rested, and will wait for Fazil." 
 
 "It is near the third watch of the. night, Zyna; thou art not 
 afraid to be alone if I sleep ? If Fazil come not before dawn, I will 
 mount the Paigah, and we will soon bring him to thee ; but I have 
 no fear now, and say this only to content thee. I will try and rest 
 my head for a while, daughter ; for it is weary, and these papers 
 have caused me much thought." So saying, he lay down on the 
 divan where he had been sitting, covered his face with a shawl 
 Avhich Zyna gently cast over him, and at once fell into a deep 
 slumber. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYII. 
 
 Zyna sat beside her father, trimming the lamp as it needed, wonder- 
 ing much at Fazil's strange absence, and occasionally taking up one 
 of the papers with which her father had been occupied, and reading* 
 it vacantly. Zyna could read, which was unusual in girls of her age 
 and class : and, originally of a studious character, she had learned 
 enough Persian with her brother from their old teacher, a superan- 
 nuated secretary, to be of use both to her father and brother ; more 
 especially to her father in his confidential correspondence. Appar- 
 ently she found nothing to interest her very much, for she laid down 
 letter after letter after reading the superscription, and looked out 
 through the lattice impatiently, as it were, for the coming dawn. 
 The bright morning star now appeared above the tops of the trees^ 
 
174 TABA : 
 
 and a glow overspread tlie whole east — tlie false dawn ; wMcli, wMle 
 it as yet gave no definite form to tlie surrounding objects, yet re- 
 lieved the extreme darkness of the night. As Zyna sat, she fancied 
 «he heard a sound of voices at the gate, but it died away. It could 
 not be her brother ; he would have been admitted at once. Again, 
 as she listened, and the silence seemed painful, the murmur was 
 renewed, and she started up. 
 
 "It is he — Fazil is come ! " she cried eagerly to her father, 
 awaking him. " O, father, go to meet him ; would I could go my- 
 self ! ^' ^ 
 
 Afzool Khan listened from the window, and Zyna could see that 
 the expression of his face increased in gladness, and the revulsion 
 in her own heart caused agitation which she could not restrain. 
 
 " He is not come," said her father; "it may be some messenger. 
 Ood grant there may be no evil tidings ! Be calm, my child ; I will 
 go below and ascertain, and will return or send word about him ! " 
 
 Hurrying down to the gate, he found the sentinel in altercation 
 with the lad we have before mentioned. It was evident that the boy 
 had been there some time, and the sentinel, being informed that his 
 young lord was safe, had no idea of wakening any one before the 
 usual hour of morning prayer. As Afzool Khan approached the gate 
 alone, he heard the lad's earnest prayer for aid answered by a dogged 
 refusal. 
 
 " Begone ! " said the man through the wicket ; " thy tale may be 
 true enough, and the Sahib Zadah * may be where he is ; but, look 
 you, the great Khan Sahib is fast asleep, and cannot be awakened. 
 Everybody is asleep ; there is no woman here to send to him in the 
 zenana. Begone therefore, or lay down at the gate. When morn- 
 ing prayer is over, thou shalt have speech of the Khan. Till it is 
 broad daylight, I draw no bolt. If thou wilt not go, at least sit 
 quiet, for there are gentleman in the guard-room here who might 
 treat thee roughly if disturbed in their sleep." 
 
 The boy was turning away sadly, when the voice of Afzool Khan 
 was heard calling from the inner court, as he unfastened the door 
 leading to the larger one. 
 
 " Whose is that voice ? — who speaks without ? — why is he not 
 admitted ? " he asked. 
 
 "My lord," replied the man on duty, "the Sahib Zadah is not 
 here, but there is a boy who says he knows of him." 
 
 "Was it well, Yousuf, to turn him away ? " asked Afzool Khan. 
 "" Suppose my son had had need of us." 
 
 F '"Nay; but my lord slept, and the Sahib Zadah was safe. Bul- 
 wunt Rao only is wounded — and there were no women to send — 
 and I did but tell him to wait," stammered the man. 
 
 =^Tho respectful title of a son — literally, *Uord's sou." 
 
A MAKE ATT A TALK 175 
 
 " No matter — where is the boy ? Open the wicket," said Afzool 
 Khan impatiently. 
 
 " He does not consider who maybe behind it," said the soldier, as 
 he unfastened the ponderous iron bars and unlocked the padlock of 
 the wickets, "and that this may be but a device to attack the gate. 
 But he will always be headstrong." 
 
 " I am here, Khodawund," said the lad, from without, and squeezing 
 himself through the opening between the wicket-door and the chain 
 which fastened it. " Behold I am now before you, valiant sir," he 
 said to the sentinel, "whom you took to be a thief; but I would 
 have speech of the noble Afzool Khan himself, if it be possible to 
 have him aroused." 
 
 "I am he," returned the old Elhan, stepping forward. "Speak 
 on, if what there is to be told may be said before these men ; " for 
 several had now arisen, saluted their master, and were standing by 
 him. 
 
 The boy touched the old Khan's feet reverently. " Fear not, noble 
 sir," he said hastily, "for the Sahib Zadah is safe. He met with no 
 hurt, though he was in danger." 
 
 " Ul-humd-ul-illa ! — Praise be to Grod," broke from the old man 
 fervently, and was heartily re-echoed by all around ; for men were 
 arriving every moment from the different portions of the court, and 
 crowding round to hear the news. " Ul-humd-ul-illa ! holy Gee- 
 soo Duraz ! " * he continued, looking up, " I vow fatehas to thy tomb, 
 and a new covering shall it have of the costliest cloth-of-gold. But 
 go on, boy, and fear not. Is there aught for my private ear ? " 
 
 "Nothing, my lord — nothing. There was a fray, and Meah Sahib's 
 attendant or friend was badly wounded. I want a palankeen for 
 him ; that is all." 
 
 "And my son — why did he not come with thee? And who art 
 thou ?" asked the Khan. 
 
 " They call me Ashruf , and I am the son of Peer Mahomed Duffa- 
 dar, and Meah Sahib could not come, because," added the lad, drop- 
 ping his head, "he was my father's prisoner — and " 
 
 "By the Prophet, but this is too much!" exclaimed the fiery old 
 Khan. " Who art thou, knave, that dares to say the son of Afzool 
 Khan is a prisoner to any one ?" 
 
 "May I be your sacrifice, Khan," returned the boy, nothing 
 daunted, though the Khan's angry speech was re-echoed by all 
 gathered around him. " May I be your sacrifice, there is no harm 
 meant to your noble son, whom we all know and honour. He it 
 was who in my hearing declared that, in order to save my father, 
 
 * Huzrut Syud Geesoo Duraz — " Prince of the Long Locks " — the name of a 
 celebrated Mahomedan saint, whose tomb at Gulbnrgah is esteemed the most 
 holy, as the saint is the greatest favourite of all, perhaps, iu the Dekhan. 
 
176 TABA : 
 
 he would attend the Kotwal's court ; for it was but yesterday that 
 the Kotwal swore lie would have the right hand of the first brawler 
 taken, cut off, and hung up in the chowke,* and that he would 
 degrade the first officer who failed to apprehend those concerned in 
 any riot. Be not angry, therefore, noble s^r, for my father explained 
 all this, and your son goes of his own freewill. My father could not 
 help it, you know, my lord," added the boy, apologetically, "for a 
 man had been wounded, and there was blood on your son's sword." 
 
 " Ay ! Jehandar Beg is likely to be a man of his word, too," said 
 the Khan to those about him, "and force will do no good. But it 
 were as well that my son should be attended, I think. What say 
 you, gentlemen ? So be ready some twenty of you, and call up the 
 spearmen ; the palankeen and bearers, too, for Bulwunt Bao. We 
 could ill spare him, poor fellow, from among us." 
 
 "Nothing could have happened if Meah had taken some of us 
 with him," cried several of the men at once. "We all wanted to 
 go," added Baheem Khan, " but he bade us mind our o^ti business, 
 and took Bulwunt Bao with him ; and see what has come of ganja 
 smoking." 
 
 " And Meah might have been wounded or killed," added several. 
 
 " My friends, there was need to do it," answered Afzool Khan ; 
 " a secret service for the King cannot have too few mtnesses. As 
 to his life, or mine, or that of any of you, do we not eat the salt of 
 the King, and should our lives be grudged ? Peace, then, and 
 hasten to get ready : the morn is fast breaking, and by daylight we 
 should be in the saddle. Keep the boy ; he must accompany us." 
 So saying, he turned back into the private court in order to seek his 
 daughter, who had followed him. Goolab had been beforehand with 
 her, and had communicated the news in her own way, with many 
 marvellous additions, while the Khan was giving his orders to the 
 men. N'ow, therefore, on hearing her father's brief confirmation of 
 Fazil's safety, all past anxiety was at once forgotten, and, with 
 glistening eyes and a thankful heart, she clung to him as they 
 entered the small court of the zenana apartments together. 
 
 By this time, too, Zyna's second mother, who as yet has been 
 barely mentioned, had been aroused from her sleep by the prevail- 
 ing bustle ; and as she habitually indulged in long rests, and disliked 
 early hours most particularly, she met the Khan and Zyna in a mood 
 of very querulous character, which arose partly from having been 
 robbed of a large portion of sleep, and partly from having heard 
 Goolab's exaggerated report of Fazil's danger. Now, the good lady 
 had not even known of his going out, nor, as her lord had requested 
 not to be disturbed, of the manner in which the weary night had 
 passed. 
 
 * Market-place. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 177 
 
 "Blessed be tlie holy saints that lie is safe !" was the exclamation 
 of Zjna, as she threw herself npon the ladj*s neck ; " there will be 
 no delay now, and my father will bring him to us. O mother, are 
 you not thankful ?" 
 
 " It was well done of thee, Khan," cried the lady ironically, dis- 
 engaging herself from Zyna, and not heeding her words, "to send 
 that poor boy out in such a night as the last has been. Such 
 thunder and lightning ! Kaked, too, I hear — to run the chance of 
 cold and wounds. Ugh ! and thou sayest thou hast a father's love 
 for him ? Toba ! toba ! I swear to thee, had he been my son, he 
 sheuld never stir out without my permission. I would take care of 
 that. He should not go hence. Khan Sahib, until I knew that the 
 planets were propitious — a thing — Alia defend us ! — that some 
 people care as little about as — as . . . and then to think Y>^hat a 
 tempting of destiny it was to send the boy from home without ask- 
 ing or caring for the positions of the stars, or finding out whether 
 there was not an adverse planet in a threatening house. As it is, 
 we hear that Fazil is wounded — that is, he might have been ; and 
 that Bulwunt Rao has had his head cut off — that is, nearly, for he 
 has a horrible cut in his neck, and his head is hanging all on one 
 side ; and," she continued, wiping her eyes with the end of her 
 scarf, and in a whimpering tone, " all this comes of not asking me. 
 What am I in the house but less than a dog? O Khan " 
 
 " Peace, Lurlee !" returned Afzool Khan tartly. "What cross 
 words are these so early in the morning ? Enough for thee that 
 the boy is safe, and that we have subject for thankfulness in his 
 escape from danger, and not of sorrow. Peace ! is it thus Alia 
 should see thee after His mercy ? Fazil will be here presently, and 
 will tell thee perhaps as much as I know." 
 
 " Ay, perhaps !" retorted Lurlee. " I, who am less than a cat in 
 the house, and as gentle as a sheep, am thus treated ! O Khan ! 
 shame upon thee that I know everything only when it is stale, and 
 comes to me through the bazar ! Are not all your goings and 
 comings hidden from me ? and now I hear you and Zyna sat up all 
 night together ; and I was told you were not to be interrupted, and 
 had to eat my dinner by myself, and to get to sleep as best I might. 
 Khan ! am I less than nobody ? I who am of the family of " 
 
 " Thou wouldst only have been anxious and fretful, Lurlee," re- 
 turned the EHian soothingly. " The planets would have troubled 
 thee. We meant only well in not telling thee. It was an urgent 
 matter, and we could not wait for the astrologer to read the tables 
 for us, or tell us what star was in the ascendant. Go, see after some 
 breakfast, or whatever can be got for Fazil ; we may be detained, 
 and I'll warrant he is hungry enough already. We cannot wait for 
 lucky hours sometimes, but must take what Alia sends us." 
 
178 TABA : 
 
 " I will not go, Khan. I will not be put off with empty words," 
 she cried, angrily ; " and if you do not choose to read the stars, 
 what does it signify ? are not the consequences of your error on 
 your own head ? When was it that the stars were aught in your 
 eyes ? Have I not read you many a warning, which, had it been 
 heeded, would have saved much trouble — much ! When Fazil went 
 forth to battle, did I not warn you not to let him depart ? and did 
 he not come home wounded and senseless ? And when I told you 
 one day, when one of the horses died, that something bad must 
 befall us because of the evil aspect of the stars, I was only laughed 
 at. Is this true or false ? And yesterday, if I had but been asked 
 beforehand, could I not have told all that was going to happen? 
 Behold !" and the lady drew from her bodice a table regularly con- 
 structed to aid her astrological predictions and researches — " behold ! 
 were not Saturn and the Moon in conjunction ? Is not that bad 
 enough ? and cannot you see that is the reason why Bulwnint Rao, 
 poor fellow, has had his head cut off ?" 
 
 "Peace, Lurlee!" again cried the Khan, to whom his wife's 
 astrological wisdom had long proved a serious annoyance. " If all 
 the planets in the sky had come together for good or evil, Fazil 
 must have gone last night, for it was an errand of life or death. 
 [N'ow all is safely over, go and prepare some sheernee for distribution, 
 and be thankful for what is, rather than anxious about the stars *' 
 
 " Toba, toba 1" exclaimed the lady, interrupting him ; " for shame, 
 for shame ! O Kian, to blaspheme the stars ! May your sin be 
 forgiven !" 
 
 " Nay, mother, but he did not blaspheme," urged the gentle voice 
 of Zyna. " He did but mean that Fazil was safe everywhere ; for 
 thou knowest, dear mother, that he is in the hands of Alia, and that 
 the blessed Alia is above all." 
 
 " He is not above the stars," retorted the lady angrily, and over- 
 anxious to establish the truth of her favourite superstition — " that 
 is, He — I mean — He is above them ; but then " 
 
 "Ah, Lurlee; better leave them alone," cried the Khan, laugh- 
 ing. " Art thou not sinking deep into the mire of thine own 
 conceit, lady ? Well, thou art welcome to them if they will teach 
 thee not to be wilful, and not to do thine own desire, which is ever 
 ill controlled and variable ; and as to their being higher than Him 
 who made them — why, I have no more to say." 
 
 " I said no such thing," retorted the lady doggedly; "but it is 
 ever thus. Take care. Khan, of wilful disregard of warnings." 
 
 "Another time, perhaps, wife. Now we cannot delay, for the 
 Kotwal has got hold of Fazil, and that is worse than an adverse 
 conjunction of planets. But fear not," he added, seeing that the 
 countenance of Zyna betrayed alarm ; "a word from me, and he 
 will be released." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 179 
 
 "If lie is not, I will go to my cousin the Wuzeer's wife, and beg 
 for Mm," repKed Lnrlee. 
 
 " A J, in spite of the stars ? Well, well, beebee, I hope it will 
 not be needed," said the Khan cheerily. " We are not yet come 
 down to asking favours of our cousins' wives. No, Lurlee ; keep 
 thine interest for another time, and see to it that thy cousin doth 
 not require thine aid ere thou hast to ask hers." 
 
 " Impossible, Khan ! " cried the lady sharply. " Thou art pleased 
 this morning to underrate my poor self and my relations. It is 
 well, O Afzool Khan !" (she meant to be very impressive when she 
 called him by name) — " it is well — I say it is very well, that you 
 speak thus. See to it that thou, too, want no aid from them." 
 
 " I do not need them, Lurlee," replied the Khan. "As to their 
 aid to me — nay, be not angry — I have not much hope of it ; and 
 for the rest, if I am right in what I think, there is evil impending 
 over the Wuzeer's house, which all the stars will not tell thee of, 
 nor him either. May the saints avert it ! If it be true, thou shalt 
 know of it ere many hours be past, and we will try to aid him ; but 
 at present let there be peace between us. By-and-by thou wilt say 
 to Fazil, It was well done, though our news may not please thee. 
 Go, girl, bring me my sword," he continued to Zyna. " Bring a 
 shawl too, for the morning air is chilly." 
 
 Zyna was glad to escape, for, in truth, bickerings such as we have 
 noted were too frequent in the house to be very tolerable, and some- ^ 
 times one side, sometimes the other, was in fault ; most f requentlyT^ 
 perhaps, the lady, who, having had no children of her own to care 1 
 for, and having in her youth been instructed in Persian, had turned I 
 to divinity and astrology with great zeal. In the latter she had j 
 indeed great faith, and professed herself able, as no doubt she was 
 willing, to direct all affairs of the house, as also of the state, by 
 planetary influences. Thus, no event could happen without its 
 being, to her perception, plainly written in the book of destiny, 
 which the light of the planets rendered easy reading ; and if a dish 
 happened to break, or a cow or bullock died, or a horse had to be 
 purchased or exchanged, or any household rejoicing made, or trouble 
 endured, all were found to have connection with the planets, or to 
 be the consequences of the lucky or unlucky days and hours of 
 which her life was composed. 
 
 Lurlee Khanum being a scholar, was also an object of envy to many 
 of her female friends, and was consulted by them upon various 
 turns of their fortunes ; and in regard to lucky colours for dress, 
 lucky moments for putting on new clothes, settling matches and 
 marriage days, the weaning of children, putting them into new beds, 
 cutting their hair or nails, and the like domestic matters, she was 
 an unquestionable authority. She, according to the rules laid down 
 
180 TABA : 
 
 in her book, had written several cliarms, and given them to her 
 friends, which, together with the virtues of certain herbs and mede- 
 cines, had been the canse of relief to babies when cutting their 
 teeth, and when they cried at night, or had bad dreams, or infantine 
 ailments ; and had been efficacious also in averting evil spirits, evil 
 eyes, and the envions wishes of others. 
 
 For these accomplishments — especially her skill in astrology, 
 which was believed to be very wonderfal, indeed almost a special 
 revelation — Lurlee Khannm was held in vast respect by all classes 
 in her quarter of the city ; and her opinions and interpretations 
 of the stars were decidedly preferred to those of Meer Anwur 
 AH, the old Moolla of the public mosque nigh at hand ; and a con- 
 siderable feud existed between them in consequence. For the 
 Moolla considered her as an interloper, and as one by no 'means in- 
 structed or qualified to have converse with what she professed, 
 whether astrology or medicine ; and had been known to say, irrever- 
 ently no doubt, that more people died of Lurlee Khanum*s medi- 
 cines than the angel of death knew what to do with. In short, 
 Lurlee Khanum, the second wife of Afzool Khan, was a much more 
 popular person than the first had been ; who, being a foreigner, and 
 absorbed in her husband and children, cared little about her neigh- 
 bours ; whereas her successor was in most respects the exact reverse. 
 
 Lurlee Beebee had once been handsome. She was of somewhat 
 dark complexion, but had very large lustrous eyes, with a prominent 
 nose, and had not escaped marks by smallpox, though they were not 
 disfiguring. When the Khan married her, her figure was perfect ; 
 but she had lately, much to her mortification, increased in size ; and 
 though she took many infallible receipts to prevent fat, it would 
 accumulate. For many years she had had hope of children, and 
 had made vows to all the shrines in Beejapoor, had sent gifts to those 
 at Allund, Gulburgah, and Gogi, and had vowed to make vast dis- 
 tributions of money, and to do other charitable acts, if her prayers 
 were granted. Now she began to fear she had no chance, which had 
 vexed her not a little, and had combined, with other troubles, to 
 give a sour, grim expression to her countenance, which rarely left it. 
 
 There were times, however, when she was bright and pleasant ; 
 for, really kind at heart, few had greater powers of pleasing than 
 Lurlee Khanum ; but as her husband became more and more occupied 
 with public affairs, estrangement had begun, and was progressing. 
 There was one fear which had beset Lurlee for many years — that 
 her lord, seeing she had no children, would marry again ; and the 
 idea of a sister- wife was very intolerable : this, however, had passed 
 away. The Khan was advancing in years, his children were growing 
 up, and she had no fear of another usurping what alf ection remained, 
 or interfering with her household management. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 181 
 
 To the Ethan's children Lurlee was fondly attached ; indeed, they 
 were now the principal links between her lord and herself. Their 
 mother had died when they were of tender age ; and, after Lurlee's 
 hopes of children ceased, she took more kindly to them than be- 
 fore, and had done her duty by them. Nor did their father inter- 
 fere with that deference to her judgment in matters concerning 
 them, of which she had better knowledge ; but her increasing faith 
 in her own infallibility had begun to distress both, as they could not 
 help estimating at its proper value the superstition upon which the 
 majority of her acts and opinions were founded once for all. 
 
 Such was Lurlee Khanum, the only lady in the harem of Afzool 
 Khan. Other nobles of his rank would have married as often as the 
 law allowed, without reproach ; but the old Khan's affections had 
 seemingly died with Zyna's mother ; and the excitement of war, of 
 political events, and provincial government, together with the 
 management of his fine estate of Afzoolpoor, had apparently filled 
 his mind to the exclusion of other subjects. 
 
 In a few moments Zyna had returned, bearing the weapon, which 
 her father took from her ; and having entered the garden with her, 
 they performed their ablutions in the mosque before mentioned, 
 and went through the usual forms of the early prayer. The Khan 
 then returned to the zenana, where Lurlee Khanum met him. 
 
 "I have put up some food in the palankeen," she said; "see that 
 Fazil eats it. I would all this were safely over," she added, after a 
 pause. " Thou art not angry with me. Khan — with your Lurlee ? 
 do not go forth angry with me, my lord." 
 
 "ISTo, no ! not angry, dear one," returned the Khan, much moved 
 and softened. " I am not angry, but impatient ; forgive me, Lurlee. 
 Alia keep you till I return : and you too, my child ! Fear not ; I will 
 bring him safely to both of you." 
 
 The Khan's horse awaited him in the outer court, and with it a 
 strong troop of his best horsemen, with a company of spearmen, 
 whose combined force seemed enough to have rescued Fazil, had 
 there been need. Afzool Khan was greeted heartily by all, and as 
 he cast his eye over the group of steady and oft-tried retainers, he 
 felt that confidence which results from habitual companionship with 
 others, and that no danger could reach Fazil which they could not 
 share or overcome. The greeting was as heartily returned as given ; 
 and the gates being thrown open after a few questions to his son's 
 messenger, and preceded by him and the band of spearmen who ran 
 before his horse, Afzool Khan and his retainers pushed forward at a 
 rapid pace. 
 
 It was now broad daylight, and the freshness of the morning, and 
 its clear bright atmosphere, rendered every object more beautiful 
 than it had been before the rain. Every stately mosque and minaret, 
 
182 TAIiA : 
 
 palace and mausoleum, witb. their briglit gilded spires, canglit tiie 
 fast-increasing light, and stood out boldly against the clear eastern 
 sky ; while the rich foliage of the trees, unmoved by any wind as 
 yet, hung in heavy masses, and seemed refreshed by the moisture 
 they still retained. As they passed the various gardens, the rich 
 fragrance of tuberose, lime, and orange flowers loaded the air almost 
 to excess ; while the very ground gave forth that refreshing earthy 
 scent which, in India, after rain, mingles so peculiarly and yet so 
 gratefully with every other perfume. Few persons were yet abroad ; 
 and with the exception of an occasional devout Mahomedan pro- 
 ceeding to early morning prayer at the mosque — a young rake, with 
 a small band of sword-and-bucklermen, returning from the night's 
 questionable companionship — a few humble carriers of fruit and 
 vegetables coming from villages without the walls to the morning 
 market, with here and there small companies of travellers starting on 
 their daily journey, — all was silent and deserted; and the heavy 
 tramp of the horsemen, as they proceeded at a rapid pace, sounded 
 strange and suspicious at that unusual hour. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYIII. 
 
 The young Ashruf ran lightly along before the party, leading them, 
 by narrow lanes and streets familiar to him, direct to the spot where 
 the occurrences of the night had taken place ; and under such 
 guidance — for the boy's speed never flagged for a moment — Afzool 
 Khan and his men arrived at the building where Fazil was waiting, 
 almost ere the sun's rays were sparkling upon the tall minarets and 
 domes of the city. 
 
 He had looked anxiously for their coming long ere dawn broke ; 
 for he had awakened as usual for the morning prayer, in which ho 
 was joined by the Duffadar and several other devout members of 
 the guard : and since its conclusion he had been sitting on the step 
 of the guard-room, or watching Bulwunt, who slept heavily but 
 restlessly, and speculating on the reason of his young messenger's 
 delay. Truly cheering was it, therefore, after hearing from a great 
 distance the rapid advance of a body of horsemen borne on the still 
 morning air, to see the well-known band of spearmen, led by the 
 young Ashruf, turn the comer of the street, and immediately 
 following them the tall figure of his father, and with him perhaps 
 fifty of the Paigah. 
 
 A few moments served to bring the party to the spot. As his 
 father strove to alight rapidly, Fazil sprang to aid him with a joyful 
 cry; and when the old Khan could disengage himself from his 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 183 
 
 stirrup, a hearty embrace followed, to the no small wonder of a 
 crowd of neighbours, whom the unexpected appearance of a well- 
 known nobleman and his dashing escort had collected : and who 
 could not understand the warm greeting and embrace between what 
 appeared to be a Hindu beggar, still much besmeared with wood- 
 ashes and paint, and so gallant a cavalier as Afzool Khan. 
 
 Led by Fazil into the apartment we have already mentioned, the 
 Khan submitted to be seated upon a carpet ; and the room being 
 partially cleared, he proceeded to inquire into ih.e circumstances of 
 his son's detention, and of the fray of which Ashruf had informed 
 him. Upon Bulwunt, the sound of the old Khan's voice acted like 
 a charm. Weakened by loss of blood, he had fallen into a dreamy 
 kind of doze rather than sleep, which the trampling of the horses, 
 and exclamations from their riders as they arrived, had converted, 
 into an imaginary battle-field, on which he lay wounded and 
 helpless ; but when the well-known voice of his lord was no longer 
 doubtful, he was aroused, and, raising himself feebly, earnestly 
 requested his master to come to him to hear, as he thought them, 
 his last words. 
 
 "He is not in fault, my lord," he said faintly, and pointing to 
 Fazil. " They would have made out that he wounded me — may 
 their tongues rot ! He will tell you all that happened, and how 
 the enemy of my house, Tannajee Maloosray, has given me my 
 death-blow." 
 
 "Not so, brave Bulwunt," said the Khan, cheerfully ; "there is 
 no fear of thee, methinks. Thou art weak, and thy sight fails 
 thee ; but keep a good heart, friend, thou will strike many a blow 
 yet for Afzool Khan; a few days' rest, and this trouble will be 
 forgotten." 
 
 " Has he told you all ? " asked Bulwunt. 
 
 "Not yet, not yet, friend; but I shall hear it ere long." 
 
 " Track him, track him, my lord," continued Bulwunt ; " Maloosray 
 cannot be gone far. He is even now in the city, at one of the 
 Mutts or Serais. He could not escape if the gates were watched. 
 He might even be found at " 
 
 But speech suddenly failed the poor fellow, and, exhausted with 
 his effort, he sank back, fainting, on the pillow. 
 
 " What did he say, son.f^" asked the Khan, quickly; "what of 
 Tannajee Maloosray ? Him of Pertabgurh — the friend of Sivaii 
 Bhoslay?" 
 
 "Even so, father," replied Fazil. "I did not mention him, as 
 there were so many listeners, and the matter was for your private 
 ear ; but, as Bulwunt has said it, no matter now. Would that we 
 knew his haunts ! Perhaps he knows, but he is too exhausted to 
 speak." 
 
184 TARA : 
 
 " Tannajee Maloosray here ! — in Beejapoor ! *' exclaimed tlie 
 Klian, " and hath done this deed ! O that we knew where the 
 villain were hiding ! Nevertheless, the gates shall be well guarded ; 
 that was a good thought of thine, Bulwunt. Ho, without there ! 
 One of ye ride to each gate of the city— tell those on guard there, 
 that Maloosray hath been seen within the city last night, and all 
 that pass out are to be well looked to. Do ye hear ? " 
 
 "Jo Hookum," cried a number of the men who heard the order; 
 and after a brief consultation together, single horsemen dashed 
 away to the several places to which their errands tended. 
 
 "And now change thy dress, son," continued his father; "this 
 disguise is hardly seemly to thee. Here is a suit, and there will be 
 water outside." 
 
 " If the Duffadar here have no objection," returned the young 
 man. " You forget, father ; I am his prisoner of my own free will." 
 "Chut, chut, boy! thou art no prisoner — be quick," cried the 
 Khan. 
 
 "The saints forbid," interposed the Duffada^r, "that any one of 
 such exalted faith as the son of Afzool Khan should be ever sus- 
 pected of being an infidel. When " 
 
 " There, there, Fazil ! go ! " interrupted the Khan, laughing ; " I 
 have no eyes for thee in that abomination ; let us see thee in thy 
 proper shape." 
 
 " Then follow me, father, into this apartment," replied Fazil ; " I 
 have that to say which will not bear witnesses — much that is 
 marvellous." 
 
 " That I doubt not, son. I will follow when Bulwunt is cared 
 for; I see they have brought up the palankeen." 
 
 So saying, the Khan tried to raise the wounded man, while he 
 spoke cheerily to him. Again, at the sound of his lord's voice, the 
 spirit of the retainer rallied, but it apparently hovered between life 
 and death ; for, after another faint attempt to speak, he fell back 
 exhausted. 
 
 " It is of no use," muttered the Khan ; " he ^dll die, I fear, and we 
 can ill spare him. Ho, without ! bearers or spearmen ! Come in 
 some of ye. And look ye," he added, as several entered, "take up 
 Bulwunt Bao, carefully, as he lies, by the comers of the blanket ; 
 put him into the palankeen, and take him home at your easiest 
 pace. He is to be lodged in the private apartment of the Khilwut. 
 Get a bed from the house, and send for our physician directly, and 
 the surgeon of the palace. . . . Now, begone." 
 
 Carefully and gently the men raised him up, and bore him out. 
 He groaned heavily as he reached the open air, yet it seemed to 
 revive him, for he looked around. Some of his comrades who 
 crowded round spoke cheerily to him, and he recognized them and 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 185 
 
 smiled. He was at once placed in the litter, and the bearers, at a 
 rapid but easy pace, proceeded homewards. 
 
 " I dare not have spoken to thee, my son," said the old Khan, 
 when he had joined Fazil, who was busily engaged washing the 
 ashes from his face, neck, and arms, "before those people, though I 
 was burning to do so. So thou hast really discovered something 
 by the night's adventure. This Tannajee, — what of him ? Tell me 
 quickly ? " 
 
 "Alas! father," returned the young man, sadly, "I know so 
 much, and of such weighty matters, that my soul trembles nnder 
 them. I would almost that 1 had not gone ont last night, or that 
 other lips than mine had to tell thee a tale of treachery and wrong- 
 doing." 
 
 " Son ! I see it in thy face. The Wuzeer ! " exclaimed the Khan, 
 starting. 
 
 "He is false, father — false," continued Fazil. 
 
 " Ah, I feared so ; but speak, boy, how is it ? Who told thee ? " 
 cried Afzool Khan, impatiently. 
 
 " I need not S9.y more to confirm it than that the King knows 
 it," returned Fazil ; "and that he has papers now in his possession 
 Y\'hich leave no doubt of Khan Mahomed's treachery ; Mirza Anwur 
 Ali and the Shah took them last night, and paid for them." 
 
 " Ya Alia kureem ! and where was this ? By the Prophet, tell 
 me, Fazil ! My soul eats your words ! speak, boy, qnickly." 
 
 Then Fazil rapidly sketched the scene of which the reader already 
 knows the detail, while the old Khan listened in silent amazement, 
 his forefinger between his teeth. 
 
 " Ya Khubeer-o ! and hath all this been so easily found out ? " 
 he exclaimed. "Ah, Khan Mahomed ! often has your poor friend 
 warned you ; but in vain. Now you are lost, alas, alas ! and for 
 that insane ambition which would not be repressed." 
 
 " We must save him, father ! " cried Fazil ; "he must not perish. 
 At the risk of my own hfe would I do aught possible to avert the 
 danger which threatens him. What can we do ? Implore the 
 King to spare the ancient friend of his house ? or write and warn 
 him ? Ah, father, you are his most valued friend, and his son is 
 as a brother to me ! Speak ; what can be done ? " 
 
 "Alas, I know not yet, son," he replied, sadly ; "but tell it again; 
 all, Fazil — all that the King said. I will think it over. Wishing 
 to save, we must not destroy." 
 
 Fazil again narrated what he had seen, and, as well as he conld 
 remember them, the contents of the letter which the Lalla had 
 repeated. But the Khan thought long and deeply on the whole 
 matter ere he could see his way to action. At last he said to his 
 son — 
 
186 TAHA : 
 
 ** What I have determined tipon ought to suit both parties. I 
 will go instantly to the King, and try if his purpose as to the 
 Wuzeer can be discovered. I must take the papers he gave me 
 in any case. Do thou, Fazil, go to thy friend — it may be that he 
 knows all ; but, if not, he can be warned of the danger. Timely 
 submission may alone avert it ; but the peril is fearful.'* 
 
 ''Alia is just, and it will be as He wills," returned his son, 
 devoutly; "but we must not forget that Lalla ; his presence may 
 be of moment, and it were well he were cared for ; his wound was 
 a mere scratch, and he may be able to ride ; let us send for him." 
 
 So a messenger was despatched to bring him, or to ascertain, at 
 least, whether he could ride ; as, if not, a litter would be provided. 
 To the vexation of Fazil, however, and his father, the messenger 
 returned, saying that a litter had already been sent by the Kotwal's 
 orders, about the time of morning prayer, and he had been taken 
 away to that officer. 
 
 " Jehandar Beg is faithful," said the old Khan. "He is as true 
 to the King's salt as I am myself, else I should have feared the 
 result ; but who can hold the Lalla's tongue ? — that is what I 
 dread, Fazil." 
 
 "And he did not appear over-discreet either, father," replied 
 Fazil; "however, the best thing we can do is to follow up the 
 information, and go to the Kotwallee ; it is my duty, too, to see the 
 worthy old Duffadar safe through the matter, for truly he did what 
 he could." 
 
 "True, son," returned Afzool Khan; "and I will accompany 
 thee. Jehandar Beg may not have forgotten some matters in 
 which I have been able to befriend him now and then. No ; that 
 Lalla must not slip through our hands, Fazil." 
 
 By this time Ashruf had saddled his father's ambling pony, and 
 stood waiting without, so the cavalcade was soon ready. The 
 Khan's men were all mounted, and a few of the Duffadar's guard 
 attended as escort to the kullal, for whom his own pony had been 
 provided, so that there was no delay; and as Fazil and his father 
 stepped from the guard-room, the young man's appearance was the 
 signal for a shout of congratulation from all, which being duly 
 acknowledged, Fazil turned with a smile to the old Duffadar, and 
 told him " his prisoners " were ready. 
 
 " If I can but assist ye, noble gentlemen," said the old man, 
 respectfully, " in this matter, it wdll be a happy thing ; and if my 
 son " 
 
 " Bismilla ! " exclaimed Afzool Khan, mounting his horse, and inter- 
 rupting him ; " we are no evil-doers, to fear justice. Move forward ! " 
 
 The building where the Kotwal's morning court was held, was 
 at no very great distance, in the city itself ; the other court was 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 187 
 
 within the fort, not far from the King's palace; and they pro- 
 ceeded to the former at a rapid pace. Bj-and-by, as they drew 
 nearer the place of their destination, a horseman dashed on to give 
 notice of the near approach of the Khan, in order that he might be 
 met, and greeted in a manner due to his rank. 
 
 "What can bring Afzool Khan, the pious and true, here ? " asked 
 one of the under-officers on duty at the entrance guard-room of the 
 outer court. " He is no brawler or intriguer." 
 
 " Who knows, Meer Sahib," replied the person addressed. " In 
 these days the world is turning topsy-turvy, and one has to see 
 and believe strange things. There is already a report that the 
 young Khan is in fault, and has wounded the man who was 
 brought in a little while ago upon a bed, and killed another ; for 
 a body was found this morning near a temple beyond the fort. 
 I was at the Bazar mosque at early prayer, and they said there it 
 would be a bad business. What matter ? Afzool Khan has plenty 
 of cash, and a sharp fine will set all straight." 
 
 "I pray it may be no worse, friend," returned the first speaker; 
 " but I have heard Jehandar Beg swear upon the holy book to spare 
 no one if blood hath been shed ; and here is one man dead and one 
 wounded to be accounted for. A bad business, friend — a bad 
 business; but we shall see. God grant it may not lead to that! " 
 and he pointed to the comer of the court, where lay a hand in a 
 pool of blood — a ghastly evidence of summary justice on a criminal 
 but just performed. "But we shall see; the Khan is heavily 
 attended, and methinks it would be as well to let him alone." 
 
 "Ay, friend, he is one of the old stock, well tried and trusted; 
 the peace of God and the Prophet be upon him and his ; and that 
 is a brave boy, 'tis a pity he should be in any trouble. Would we 
 had more of them about the King! Truth is lie, and lie is- truth, 
 friend, in these days ; and men whisper that Jehandar Beg is no 
 friend to Azfool Khan, nor the Wuzeer either, and they are of the 
 same party; but we shall see. What will be, will be." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Almost as they spoke, the Khan's retinue approached, and, pre- 
 ceded by its band of spearmen, some horsemen, and the party of 
 the old Duffadar, swept round the comer of the adjoining street. 
 Very conspicuous among the cavalcade were the figures of the 
 father and son riding together ; the Khan in his morning suit of 
 heavy cloth-of-gold, which glittered richly in the sun; his son, 
 plainly dressed in white muslin. 
 
 Fazil rode a led horse of his father's, which he sat with perfect 
 
188 TAEA 
 
 <joiifideiice and control of tlie fiery animal ; but his countenance ex- 
 pressed anxiety which he could not restrain. In truth, he felt, 
 notwithstanding his assurance to his father, that if he were sub- 
 jected to a strict examination, he should be ill able to account 
 satisfactorily for the various events of the night without compro- 
 mising others. In regard to Maloosray, he had one witness in the 
 kuUal; and there was np thing to implicate him in the occurrence 
 at the temple, in case it should form subject of inquiry. No, he 
 could not now recede. 
 
 As to the old IQian himself, no thought of fear disquieted him. 
 He considered that he was only humouring a whim of his son's in 
 .accompanying him, that he might insure the Duffadar's bein^freed 
 from blame. Suspicion of aught affecting the safety or honour of 
 his house had never entered his mind; and he had ridden along 
 gaily, causing his fine war-horse to caracole and bound, free from 
 all thought of uneasiness, except what might result from the delay. 
 
 As the party entered the gate, they were met by several persons 
 deputed to receive them, and returned the respectful and hearty 
 greetings of the soldiery on duty, to whom they were well known. 
 Dismounting at the end of the court, they passed through to the 
 next, where already many suitors and complainants were assembled. 
 There, too, on a bed which had been placed in a side-room, lay the 
 Lalla, with a sheet drawn over him, which Fazil saw was stained 
 with blood. The Lalla had covered his face ; but the pink colour 
 of his turban, and its peculiar tie, were not to be mistaken. So, 
 passing all, and receiving and returning salutations, they entered 
 the room of audience, where, surrounded by a few Mutsaddees, or 
 scribes, sat the Kotwal himself. 
 
 Jehandar Beg was a Persian by birth, a man of some learning 
 and much cunning, but really intelligent. Those were times when 
 the service of Indian princes was eagerly sought for by Persians, 
 Turks, Affghans, and even Abyssinians ; and adventurers often rose 
 to princely rank and honour in their service. Jehandar Beg was 
 one of these. When young he had accompanied a relative to the 
 Dekhan court, the prince of which was a Sheea — ^his own faith — 
 and where, among others of his countrymen, the historian Mahomed 
 Kasim Ferishta had been distinguished. He had risen steadily in 
 the King's service, and proved himself brave in the field, as well as 
 sagacious and trustworthy. Having attained to his present office, 
 he was, in the main, respected, and was the dread of all night 
 brawlers, sharpers, and thieves, whom he punished heavily ; but he 
 was fond of money, and it was whispered that, in grave offences, he 
 had his private price. After all, what mattered that ? Occasionally 
 a great person was fined, or otherwise punished, and so men's 
 mouths were stopped, and the Kotwal believed to be a great man. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 18^ 
 
 Jeliandar Beg's appearance was magnificent. He always wore 
 the peaked lamb's- wool cap of Khorassan, and the Persian robe- 
 and his rich brown complexion, and dark-brown curly beard, grave 
 features, and -large soft black eyes, combined to render his face a 
 remarkable one, not easily forgotten. The expression seldom 
 varied ; nothing ever caused him to laugh in his court — rarely to 
 smile — nor did he ever express anger. Happen what might, his 
 habitual gravity never relaxed for a moment, and there was no man 
 who could tell a lie, conceal a fact, or change an opinion — or, in 
 the course of duty, order the torture, and look upon it, with such 
 perfect imperturbability as he did. 
 
 Hi! office was at once arduous and difficult, but he was not re- 
 stricted in power. In cases of life and death, perhaps, and if the 
 criminal were of importance, reference might be made to the chief 
 legal authority or to the King ; but, as far as minor punishments 
 were needed, the lopping off of an arm, a hand, or a foot, — torture 
 and imprisonment, or the like, — no one questioned the Kotwal's. 
 acts. As chief magistrate of a city which contained a large pro- 
 portion of lawless population, he often found it necessary to make 
 sudden and severe examples in order to check disorder and crime r 
 and, recently, the city had been agitated by conspirators : parties 
 i-an high ; and duels and brawls, generally attended by fatal conse- 
 quences, were frequent. 
 
 The old Duffadar was right when he told Fazil of the KotwaFs 
 oath to punish severely the first brawler who should be apprehended, 
 and he trembled for the consequences of. the inquiry into the 
 night's disturbances. Here were two men wounded, and, as far as 
 he knew, another who had been taken off, or who had got away ; 
 and one dead body, found near the temple of Bhowani among the 
 tamarind trees, was fresh, though torn by wild animals, and the 
 blood had been traced back to the temple wall, on the top of which 
 some stones had been displaced. 
 
 Altogether, matters had an ugly appearance ; and the old man 
 could not help thinking that Fazil was concerned in both aifairs* 
 "May God be merciful to him," he said to himself, "for he is a 
 brave youth, son of a gallant father ; better a hundred battle-fields, 
 and a fair chance man to man, than the crooked ways of this courts 
 and the merciless character of Jehandar Beg. Be wary, my lord,"" 
 he whispered to Fazil, as, having made his obeisance and report, he 
 was falling back to get free of the advancing parties; "Jehandar 
 Beg's looks are not pleasant this morning, and you need to be 
 careful. I should not warn you without there were need ; be 
 careful in what you say, and I will guide you by my looks from 
 time to time." 
 
 But Fazil had no fear. Unused to such scenes, he could only feel 
 
190 TAEA 
 
 tliat his word would pass him free from all suspicion, and that his 
 father's rank and good faith were above question. 
 
 To the old Khan, the Kotwal's greeting was one of respectful 
 deference ; and the seat of honour was assigned to him. To Fazil, 
 however, he maintained a stiff reserve — so pointed, that the Khan 
 could not but notice and remark upon it. 
 
 *' That is my son," he said, after an awkward pause which no one 
 apparently dared to break, " and I would have you acquainted with 
 him, Meerza Sahib. Shookr Ulla ! he is not utterly unknown 
 among the ranks of those who are true to the King in Beejapoor, 
 though he is but a youth." 
 
 There was no reply, however, given to this speech, and the em- 
 barrassment of all grew more painful. The clerks and guards looked 
 from one to another, and the old Khan to them in succession, with 
 increasing indignation at their demeanour. 
 
 ^' By the Prophet ! " he exclaimed at length, ironically, '' ye seem 
 marvellously engaged, gentlemen," as, on hearing him speak, every 
 one looked away, or into the papers before them, "that a civil greet- 
 ing does not obtain a civil answer. Your politeness, Meerza Sahib, 
 is proverbial in the city ; but it seems to have deserted you on this 
 occasion, or is reserved for thieves and loose women. Come, my son 
 — come ; we intrude here. Jehandar Beg has his own private work 
 to do, no doubt, and does not need our company." 
 
 " Hold ! " cried the Kotwal ; and, as he spoke, several of the armed 
 attendants closed up the doorway with their long broad spears, while 
 others without blew the matches of their guns. " Hold ! Thou 
 mayst go, Afzool Khan, for what may follow may grieve thy brave 
 heart ; but there is blood on thy son's sword, and it must be inquired 
 into. Young man, what is this they say against thee ? A man killed 
 in a drunken brawl in the worst quarter of the city ? Was this to 
 be expected from the son of Afzool Khan ? Speak, and speak truly, 
 before Grod and his Prophet." The Meerza's eyes flashed and dilated 
 as he spoke ; and as they rested upon the young man, who had not 
 seated himself, they were met by a gaze as bold and fearless as his own. 
 
 " I am no brawler, Meerza Sahib," he exclaimed, in reply. 
 *' Astagh-fur-oolla ! — nor drunkard either. Peace, father ! sit quiet ; 
 let me answer for myself — I am not afraid," he added, as the Khan 
 attempted to rise, and was evidently provoked beyond endurance. 
 *' Ask the Duffadar who accompanied me, and the man in whose house 
 it happened, whether I am to blame. Their statements will suffice." 
 
 *' There are two matters to answer for, Meah Sahib," said the 
 Kotwal. "Were you not in the dress of a Gosai last night, and 
 another with you ? Nay ; no denial ! " 
 
 " I have nothing to deny, Meerza Sahib," returned Fazil. " My 
 faj^her knew of it, and I went by his permission." 
 
A MAERATTA TALE, 191 
 
 " Good. Now, Peer Sahib, what happened to you ? " asked the 
 Kotwal of another officer present. 
 
 " My lord, it was just before midnight,'' he replied, " when two 
 men, Gosais, brought a third person, who was slightly wounded, but 
 complained much of his neck. He is a foreigner, for he speaks the 
 Delhi language. They said he had been robbed, and told us to keep 
 him safe till the morning, when they would come for him ; and as 
 the man was very helpless, we put him on a bed in the guard-room, 
 and have brought him here. Again at dawn, some of the men were 
 going towards the temple of Toolja Bhowani, when they saw the 
 dead body of a man, with a deep wound in his back and a stab in his 
 breast — a Hindu, for he had on a Brahmun's thread, so he may be a 
 Rajpoot ; but no one knew him. Several mohurs were picked up by 
 him and others between this place and the temple : — the Mutsuddee 
 has them — eleven, I think, — and there was blood all the way along. 
 It was a desperate cut ; and how the man could have run at all with 
 those wounds, it is hard to say." 
 
 "He 'was murdered, then," thought Fazil; "would I had not 
 struck him ! yet there is one traitor and robber the less." 
 
 " And the man who was brought in, what of him ? " asked the 
 Xotwal. 
 
 " He moaned and groaned, my lord, worse than a woman ; said he 
 had been robbed at the temple; spoke of Pahar Singh who had 
 wounded him. Maun Singh who had throttled him, then of the Shah's 
 secretary — may his name be honoured! — and some ten thousand 
 rupees. In short, noble sir, we could make nothing of the matter, 
 for he began to weep if we spoke to him, and told us to take him to 
 the King without delay. So we brought him here, and must speak 
 for himself. It appeared to me like the dream of some opium- 
 smoker," continued the speaker to those about him ; " we could not 
 understand it at all." 
 
 " Shouldst thou know the men who brought him ? " 
 
 " Well, my lord, I can't say for certain," replied the officer, "but 
 one of our people said they were not what they seemed; and he 
 thought one was Bulwunt Rao, who is a Silladar of the noble Khan 
 yonder, and who goes about bazars at night, sometimes ; the other's 
 face was tied up, and he did not speak." 
 
 " I was the other, Meerza Sahib," interposed Fazil, quietly. 
 
 "I thought as much," said the Kotwal, drily. " Were they armed, 
 Peer Sahib ? " 
 
 " Yes, to be sure, my lord," he replied ; " would any one go about 
 in those quarters at night without being armed ? Yes, they had 
 sword and shield." 
 
 " Where are the weapons ? " 
 
 " Here, my lord," replied the other Duffadar, who now interposed, 
 
192 TAFiA : 
 
 " in my keeping ; the young Khan gave them np to me. He has 
 another sword now." 
 
 " Yes, there is blood on the blade, and here are cnts, fresh ones, 
 on the shield," said Jehandar Beg, examining Fazil's weapons. 
 "How, yonng sir, do you account for these ? " 
 
 " I will reserve what I have to say ; it is no use speaking now," 
 returned Fazil, who had observed his old friend shake his head, and 
 who again nodded approvingly. 
 
 " Bring in the wounded man," cried the Kotwal ; and the bed on 
 which our poor friend the Lalla lay, was carried in and set down ; 
 '' we must confront the parties." 
 
 " Get up, good man," said an attendant Mutsuddee ; " this is the 
 Kotwal ; make your reverence, and tell what happened to you." 
 
 " Ah, protect me, befriend me. I have been robbed and mur- 
 dered .... I cannot get up .... I am a poor man and a stranger. 
 Look at my blood," gasped the Lalla by turns to all about him. 
 
 " Who did it ? and who art thou ? " cried the Kotwal. " Where 
 hast thou come from ? " 
 
 Now, it might be awkward for the Lalla to answer these questions. 
 He knew he had a few gold coins left, enough to keep him for some 
 time — for he had been used to poverty, and could endure it — ^if he 
 could only get free. Any man with quick wits, could do something 
 for himself in the city ; and had he not done good service ? These 
 thoughts passed rapidly through his mind ere he spoke. 
 
 "Asylum of justice ! " he said, in his most humble tones, " I don't 
 know who did it, but I was robbed in the temple." 
 
 " Of ten thousand rupees? Speak truly." 
 
 "Ah no, sirs. What would a poor Khayet like me do with ten 
 thousand rupees ? No, but of what I had in my humeana." 
 
 " And Pahar Singh ? they tell me he was mentioned by thee." 
 
 " Ah, noble sir, I am a stranger and a foreigner ; what do I know 
 about Pahar Singh, or anybody ? I am very weak," added the Lalla, 
 in a feeble voice ; " will no one help me ? " and he lay down, as well 
 t ) escape further questioning, as to excite pity for his misfortunes. 
 
 " This will not serve thee, whoever thou art," returned the Kot- 
 wal ; " answer truly, where art thou come from, and what took thee 
 to that lonely temple at night ? " 
 
 " My lord, I am a poor Khayet from the north, seeking service ; 
 and I fell among thieves who decoyed me thither and robbed me. 
 See, they wounded me also, and tried to strangle me. What more 
 can I say ? " 
 
 " That is not enough, friend," resumed the Kotwal ; " we must know 
 how it happened, for others here appear concerned in the matter, and 
 murder hath been done." 
 
 " Murder, my lord ! " cried the Lalla, again raising himself ; 
 
AMAHRATTA TALE. 193 
 
 "there was no murder, fhoiigh perhaps tliey thought they had killed 
 me when they took what I had." 
 
 " Who, Lalla ? be not afraid,*^ said Jehandar Beg, soothingly. 
 
 " A seeming Jogi and another. They ran away, and left me sense- 
 less. Then two Gosais came and raised me up, and gave me water, 
 and took me to the guard-room. May the gods recompense them, 
 for they bound up my wound ! " 
 
 " Two Gosais — ah, this may be some clue ! " said the Kotwal ; 
 " this agrees with the other statement. Then thou art one of them, 
 Meah Sahib?" 
 
 " I have already said so," replied Fazil ; "and my retainer, Bul- 
 wunt Bao, was the other." 
 
 " What took you there ? " 
 
 Fazil considered for a moment. What he had been witness of 
 could not now be related, and he replied, " It was a matter, Meerza 
 Sahib, in which I am not bound to answer you. If those it concerns 
 are to hear of it, they shall know otherwise." 
 
 "Beware, young sir! " said the Kotwal, gravely; "there can be 
 no secrets here." 
 
 " Nevertheless, I cannot answer. It is enough that I have told my 
 father of it," returned Fazil. 
 
 " Yes, Jehandar Beg," said Afzool Khan, "he has said enough to 
 prove he was no robber, and that ought to content you." 
 
 "Yet there was murder done, my friend," replied the official, 
 quickly ; " blood was on the wall of the court, and a corpse not far 
 from it, and there is blood on this sword of your son's. He should 
 clear himself of this horrible suspicion. But stay ; there is the other 
 affrav to be accounted for, — that in the win e-shop — a drunken brawl, 
 I fear." 
 
 " I am no brawler, Meerza Sahib, nor drunkard," exclaimed Fazil, 
 indignantly. " The man is present in whose house it occurred ; let 
 him say what happened." 
 
 " Let him be brought forward, and let Fureed Duffadar state what 
 happened," said the Kotwal, authoritatively. " Till then be silent, 
 Meah." 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 The old Duffadar's account was clear and circumstantial, and the 
 Kotwal listened attentively. When it was finished, the Kullal was 
 called, and, prostrating himself, began by imploring protection, 
 which was granted. 
 
 "It is a weighty matter, my lords," he said, " and needs much 
 inquiry. May it please you to listen," he continued, after a pause. 
 
194 TABA 
 
 as if to collect his thouglits. " Your slave would represent tliat lie 
 heard, a conversation between the young Khan there and a man whose 
 name may hardly be mentioned in Beejapoor, Tannajee Maloosray." 
 
 " Maloosray ! " echoed the Kotwal. " Protection of God ! thou 
 art not mad to say this ? or drunk ? " 
 
 " May I be your sacrifice ! " continued the man, evidently observ- 
 ing that his words had made an impression, '' I am not mad, and I 
 have an oath against wine. I swear by the King's salt, that he 
 spoke with Maloosray." 
 
 " And he was disguised like a Gosai, Fureed ? " asked the Kotwal 
 of the old Duffadar. 
 
 " Khodawund ! what did he tell you himself he was?" replied 
 the man. " He changed his dress when his father came. Even 
 now the ashes may be on his body." 
 
 " What said the young Khan to Maloosray ? " asked the Kotwal 
 of the Kullal. " Speak truly, or I will have thee flogged through the 
 bazar, and all thy property confiscated for irregular hours in thy 
 shop." 
 
 This was what the man feared from the first. Had Fazil 
 appeared in favour he would have appealed to him for explana- 
 tions in regard to the affray, for which he dreaded he should be 
 punished ; but Fazil seemed already unable to help himself, so 
 he had determined to take his own course in the opposite direction, 
 
 " Why should I tell a lie ? " he replied, holding up his hands 
 humbly and with a gesture of supplication. " I swear by your 
 feet it is true." Pointing to Fazil, he continued — " He said he 
 knew Pahar Singh was at the temple, and they sent a man for 
 him ; and if he did not come, that they should meet again. Then 
 Maloosray said something about Sivaji Bhoslay, and the Moghuls, 
 and the Shah Aurungzeeb, and armies, and there was another 
 message to Pahar Singh. Then another man struck a blow at the 
 Maloosray, and they fought, and I screamed out for the guard, and 
 Maloosray ran off; but I secured him," and he pointed to Fazil. 
 
 " O base-bom ! " exclaimed Fazil, " thy mouth is full of lies " 
 
 "Hear him," interrupted the man; " he had me tied up till the 
 blood nearly burst from my fingers, and made me promise not 
 to reveal this. Behold, my lord, the marks of the cords, and hov/ 
 my arms are swelled. By my child's head, it is true, noble sir, it 
 is all true. How could I, a poor seller of ganja and bhung, have 
 dreamed such things of Tannajee and Sivaji ? Do not men 
 tremble at their names ? Search the young Khan, he has papers 
 which Maloosray gave him. 1 saw them myself " 
 
 "Alas, it is but too clear to me," said the Kotwal, interrupting 
 Afzool. Khan, who was about to speak, " that there is deep treachery 
 here. Deep plots are being laid, but this poor servant of God 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 195 
 
 has a clue to one at least. Inslialla ! it will be sifted to the bottom. 
 Enough of suspicion was there against you, young sir, on the 
 other matter, but this is graver still. Yield, therefore, Afzool Khan, 
 and you, Meah ; resistance is vain, and I would fain spare blood." 
 
 As he spoke, the soldiers and attendants, who had gradually 
 gathered round them, closed in so near that they could have been 
 seized or overpowered at once, if the old Khan's sword had not been 
 drawn by him the instant their movement was made. Now, as he 
 stood prepared to meet any attack, his eyes flashing and his tall 
 figure drawn up to its full height, no one ventured a step towards 
 them, nor offered to seize his son, who, on his part, made no attempt 
 at resistance. 
 
 "Draw, Fazil, draw!" cried the Khan; "let us see which of 
 these sons of vile mothers will first die. O that we had a score of 
 our fellows with us, this insult would not have happened. Draw, 
 boy ! a few good strokes will see us clear of this gang of execu- 
 tioners, and there are enough men without to carry us through the 
 city. Come on, in the name of God ! Bismilla ! " 
 
 Saying this, the old man advanced a step, while those before him, 
 so sudden and determined was his movement, fell back as though 
 they would have allowed him egress. Fazil, however, saw his 
 father's danger, not only from the chance of a sword-thrust or blow 
 in the struggle which must ensue, and the certainty of an attempt 
 at rescue by the men without if they heard of it, but in the disgrace 
 and suspicion which would fall upon them if the inquiry were 
 forcibly interrupted. 
 
 "Father, father!" he cried, passionately, "do not stir. I 
 implore you, move not. You know how false this base charge 
 is, and I beseech you not to let it be said that we feared to meet it, 
 and evaded justice. Yes, let it be first done on this lying dog, who 
 has misled Jehandar Beg. See, for one, I surrender myself and my 
 weapons ; " and, as he spoke, he threw his sword and dagger on 
 the floor, which were eagerly secured by an attendant. 
 
 "Degenerate ! " cried his father. "Dost thou fear death, boy? 
 When did an Affghan ever surrender his weapons but with his life ? 
 Fie on thee for a coward, to hesitate to strike a blow for me ! " 
 
 " Coward ! " exclaimed the young man, sadly. " Father, you 
 know not Avhat you say. Why such bitter words ? is this a time 
 for contention? " 
 
 " Khan Sahib," said Jehandar Beg, who had risen with the 
 others, and now advanced, " listen to your son's words of peace and 
 reason. You are alone, and, though one or two might fall, there 
 would be no escape. The blood of Afzool Khan, or his son, should 
 not flow in a court of justice, but against the King's enemies. Put 
 up your weapon, and wear it, Khan ; and you, noble youth, yours. 
 
19G TABA 
 
 Appearances are against yon both ; and tliese plots have been so 
 long hidden from ns, that your poor servant, the slave of the King 
 — may his splendour increase ! — has no alternative but to detain you 
 till the pleasure of the Wuzeer is known." "^ 
 
 " Father, I beseech you to listen to reason — ^to advice kindly given 
 and well meant," cried Fazil ; " consider what is at stake, and that 
 the moment we have speech of the King there will be no fear." 
 
 Afzool Khan looked from one to the other and around him 
 irresolutely, and the tears rose to his eyes, and fell over in large 
 drops. Any advance would have decided him to an act of despera- 
 tion ; but his son saw the struggle in his mind, and, throwing 
 himself before him, grasped his feet. 
 
 " Father, save your honour," he cried, earnestly ; " save your 
 life by my example. Shall it be said that Afzool Khan died a 
 traitor, or that a breath of suspicion rested upon the truest, most 
 loyal name in Beejapoor? " 
 
 A moment the old Khan hesitated, but his sword-point dropped, 
 and he dashed his hand across his eyes impatiently. " My spirit 
 chafes at the thought of restraint, Fazil," he said ; " yet for thy 
 sake, boy, I submit. But I pray thee, Jehandar Beg, let thine 
 errand to the Wuzeer be done swiftly, or, by the Prophet, there be 
 those in my service who would reck little of a rescue. Stay, 
 I had better write ; that will assure them more." 
 
 A few lines were hastily w^T^tten by Fazil, and sealed with the 
 Khan's private signet. One of the escort was called up, and the 
 note given to him by Fazil himself, with an order to take the men 
 home, and a caution to be discreet. The soldier looked about him 
 incredulously. 
 
 *' Do you remain of your own pleasure, my lord ? " he asked. 
 
 ^'Yes," replied the Khan; "we have business here for to-day 
 which cannot be deferred. Keep quiet, all of ye ; but be ready," 
 he added, in an under-tone ; " when I need ye I will send word." 
 
 " Yery good," cried the man in a loud voice, in order to cover 
 the EZhan's whisper, "very good; I understand; it shall be done." 
 
 "You had better withdraw to the private apartments, Khan," 
 said the Kotwal, respectfully. " I know too well the honour of a 
 Puttan to question you. Stay there till I return. Befreshment, 
 toQ, shall be provided ; and I pray you to consider this poor house 
 as your own while you stay in it. The Wuzeer was at Almella 
 yesterday, and is expected this evening." 
 
 Afzool Khan hesitated, but his son whispered, "We shall be 
 better there, father, than amidst these curious gazers," and drew 
 him along gently. He did not resist, but followed passively. 
 *' Stay, however," added Fazil to the Kotwal;- "vrhere is Pureed 
 Duffadar ? I would speak with him." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 197 
 
 The man advanced a few steps. " I am here, mj lord ; what are 
 jonr orders ? " 
 
 "None from me," returned Fazil ; "but look you, Meerza Sahib 
 — for the sake of justice ask of this good man what that KuIIal 
 told us ; for it is in the law that the word of a true believer is better 
 than the oath of a Kafir. And, pardon me, Meerza, but my father 
 and myself, in the name of the King, hold you responsible for 
 the custody of that man. How came Maloosray into his shop, or to 
 remain there while a King's guard was within ear-shot ? Ah, liar," 
 added the young man, as the Kullal was advancing, with joined 
 hands, and about to speak, " no more ; thou hast told enough lies 
 for the present ; by-and-by there will be other questions. Beware 
 of them." 
 
 So saying, he passed with his father into the door which the 
 Kotwal himself held open. It was a quiet, secluded place — a small 
 apartment supported upon wooden pillars and arches, which opened 
 into a court shaded with trees. Carpets and pillows were there in 
 abundance, and the place was cool and neatly furnished. 
 
 "The papers, whatever they are, Meah, remain with you," said 
 the Meerza. " Shall we examine them here privately ? " 
 
 "They will be shown to the King only," said Fazil, dryly, "for 
 they concern no one else; meanwhile I am responsible for them." 
 
 "Then I will leave ye, noble sirs," returned the other; "be 
 ple'ased to rest yourselves." 
 
 " for a moment's speech of the King ! " cried the Khan, as they 
 were alone. "Now it is too late, and Khan Mahomed is lost. 
 Nay, son, 'tis a pretty court, and not unlike our own Khilwut ; but 
 I cannot breathe freely. Canst thou, Fazil ? it chokes me." 
 
 " Fear not, father ; all will be well, I trust," replied his son. 
 "Unobserved, I gave a message to the lad Ashruf, who seems 
 faithful, to be delivered to Kowas Khan. If he comes, all will 
 be well, for he can warn his father. No harm can happen to us 
 except from the Wuzeer, and he may " 
 
 " He dare not," cried Afzool Khan — " he dare not think of us ; 
 he will have enough to do to save himself. If the Shah acts — acts 
 firmly — as — as — I would, son, were I in his place and were it my 
 dearest friend — he should die. O Khan Mahomed ! O friend ! " 
 exclaimed the old man bitterly, " how often have I remonstrated and 
 implored, but you have not listened ! He spoke me fair, Fazil, 
 always, — see what is in his heart. But what is written, is written. 
 Let it be ; we cannot prevent it." 
 
 " Ameen, father ! we can only do what is possible to save " 
 
 " I tell thee, boy," resumed the Khan, interrupting him, "I doubt 
 whether it would be meet in us to interfere with God's designs, 
 and to help treachery to escape its deserts. The danger is too great 
 
198 TARA 
 
 to the King, and, next to God and the Prophet, he is to ns dear 
 and honoured. I tell thee, son, we had better not interfere ; it may 
 not be good for ns." 
 
 "Nay, father," said Fazil, "so long as we speak friendly truth 
 and warning, there can be no fear; and what is written in the 
 Wuzeer's destiny will be fulfilled." 
 
 ' Thou wilt see to that door with thy life, !N'asir," whispered the 
 Kotwal to one of his chief attendants, a burly Abyssinian slave. 
 " See that no one passes out or in without my orders. If violence 
 is attempted, strike, — dost thou hear ? — to the death ! Proud as 
 Afzool Khan is, he may yet lower his head, perhaps with his life. 
 And they have papers, which we must take, Nasir — ^forcibly, if we 
 cannot otherwise get them : — ere the sun sets, too, or he passes 
 hence." 
 
 " Are we strong enough to keep the Khan, my lord ? " asked the 
 man doubtingly. 
 
 "Ay, true ; we need be stronger; send this ring," and he took off 
 his signet, " to the Wuzeer's son. Say we need five hundred men 
 to reinforce the guard. Yes, we should otherwise be too weak, 
 if those mad Affghans were to attempt a rescue. Return here 
 when the messenger goes." 
 
 "On my head and eyes be it," replied the slave; "no one shall 
 pass hence save over my dead body." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Maloosray had too much at stake to risk aught by delay, and he and 
 his companions fled from the back door of the house already 
 described, screened by the rain and thick darkness, leaving, how- 
 ever, one of the scouts to inform their companion of what had 
 happened, and with directions for both to join him at their place of 
 concealment as quickly as possible. They proceeded at a rapid pace, 
 leaving the suburb, and striking across the open plain, eastwards, in 
 the direction of the small hamlet of Allapoor, bearing the wounded 
 man with them. Heretofore, in his stealthy visits to the city, 
 Maloosray had found shelter and concealment in a Mutt or monastery 
 of Jogis, who, in their annual pilgrimages, had become known to 
 him, and assuming their garb, and even joining them in their morn- 
 ing perambulations in search of alms, he had been enabled to visit 
 those persons in the city with whom his intrigues were being carried 
 on. Now, however, the Jogis had warned him that their Mutt was 
 no longer safe. Jehandar Beg had received information which led 
 to several visits by his men at night ; and though not interfered 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 199 
 
 with, or even aware of tlie reason of suspicion, the Jogis knew they 
 were watched. 
 
 But they were true to his interests, and had prepared a place 
 more secure, because without the walls, and more secluded, than 
 their own Mutt, which was the resort of travellers and devotees from 
 all parts of the country. This was the cloister of an old Hindu 
 temple which stood by itself in an unfrequented part of the plain, 
 and which, either by some act of desecration, or because of its incon- 
 venient situation, had been long neglected. The cloister round it 
 was, however, in good repair, and a little plastering with clay, and 
 cleansing of the chamber from the accumulated dust of years, made 
 the place comfortable enough; and one of the Jogis attended in 
 tarn, brought provisions, and acted as cook to the party. 
 
 It was easy from thence to reach the city unobserved. Not far 
 distant was the small hamlet of Allapoor, yet sufficiently far to deter 
 prying persons from coming to see who lived in the deserted temple ; 
 and if any one were observed, it was, to all appearance, only a Jogi. 
 When, therefore, the Patel, or chief elder of the village of Allapoor, 
 was told by the shepherd boys that some mendicants were repairing 
 the cloister of the old temple and staying there, he bade no one 
 interfere with them ; and his good- will was by-and-by secured by an 
 occasional present from time to time. No one suspected the place 
 or its inhabitants ; and few frequented the plain about it, which, 
 being hard and stony, was uncultivated, as it still remains, and was 
 used here and there for cemeteries ; but the greater part was left to 
 nature, and to flocks of hardy sheep and goats, which picked up a 
 scanty subsistence. 
 
 It was not without some apprehension that Maloosray had first 
 trusted himself to the new shelter ; but in the course of several visits 
 he had become accustomed to it, and found that he was at once freer 
 and safer there, than in his old quarters inside the walls. The horses, 
 jtoo, were excellently provided for in the crypt of an adjoining Ma- 
 Lomedan tomb, which had never been finished, nor had any use been 
 
 lade of it. Below the foundation terrace was a spacious arched 
 '•ault, above which the walls of the mausoleum had been partly 
 'Carried ; and the entrance was so overgrown with matted creepers 
 and bushes, that it could not be seen unless examined very closely. 
 Within, three horses, and as many stout ponies, found excellent 
 shelter and concealment ; and Maloosray's scouts — who were, in fact, 
 his retainers and escort — lived with them and tended them. 
 
 To this place Maloosray proceeded as fast as the wet ground and 
 the rough by-paths would permit — supporting his companion when 
 needful, and helping him over stony places. The wound was not 
 dangerous, yet it had caused considerable loss of blood, and the hardy 
 mountaineer was more weakened than he liked to admit. Once they 
 
200 TABA : 
 
 emerged upon the plain, tlie temple was soon reached ; and, after 
 having the s\Yord-cut dressed and bound up, the wounded man w^as 
 left to his repose. 
 
 Maloosray's next care was for his horses, and he proceeded to the 
 crypt. Safe now from observation, for it was long past midnight, 
 the men there were busy with preparations for the morning meal — 
 for they could cook only at night. Two were grinding millet-flour 
 in the hand-mill, which they always carried with them ; another was 
 kneading dough in a wooden trough ; a fourth shaping portions of 
 it into cakes, which he patted between his hands into the desired 
 form, and a fifth was baking them upon a large flat iron j^an or girdle 
 — which held several at the same time — and removing them to the 
 side of the fire to harden, as fast as baked. 
 
 A goodly pile of bread had already accumulated; and in two 
 earthen pots simmered messes of vegetables and split-peas, from 
 which a strong, and not unsavoury, smell of onions and garlic pro- 
 ceeded. The fire, fed by dry sticks from time to time, lighted up 
 the space around, resting upon the rough stone arches and heavy 
 massive groins of the crypt ; and upon the forms of several men 
 lying asleep, wrapped in their strong cotton sheets or rough blankets, 
 while others reclined lazily, talking occasionally to those employed. 
 There were three horses — two lay asleep am^ong the men, the other, 
 a powerful silver-grey mare, was feeding, and looking round occa- 
 sionally to the man baking bread, expecting, with a low whinny, her 
 allowance of buttered cakes. 
 
 The scene was peculiar and striking : for the gloom of the vault 
 was so deep, except around the fire itself, that every object seemed to 
 stand out in sharp relief as the light caught it. Just then, too, a 
 brigliter blaze than before rested upon the coat of the mare, and, 
 shining on the soft glossy skin, caused the graceful outline of her 
 form to project from the deep gloom behind it in a remarkable 
 manner. 
 
 " What ! awake, and no one guarding the door ? Ah ! \^'ould ye 
 have the Kotwal's men upon ye, my sons? " cried Maloosray, enter- 
 ing unobserved. "Beware, all of ye, the risk is great." 
 
 " Master, we had the watch set," answered a man, standing up and 
 making a clumsy salutation, while others started to their feet. " I 
 only came in for a moment to see to the mare, for the rest were busy." 
 
 *'Has she not slept ? " 
 
 " O yes ! She just now woke, got up, shook herself, and neighed. 
 That was what brought me in ; I thought she had no fodder, and 
 that the others might be asleep." 
 
 " Then she is fresh for a journey, in case we have a rapid one, 
 Ramjee ? " 
 
 "Ay, master; you may be at Poena in three days if you will, or 
 at Pertabgurh either. She will do it." 
 
A M Aim ATT A TALE. 201 
 
 Maloosray approached tlie animal : she stretched her head towards 
 him with a low whinny, and rubbed her nose and eyes against him. 
 *'Yes, K/Ookminee," he said, caressing her, "thou wilt have sharp 
 work, perhaps. Art ready, lass ? " 
 
 There was another low whinny in reply, as she Hcked the hand 
 held out to her. She at least understood the caress, and responded 
 to it. He passed his hand over her sleek coat, which glistened like 
 silver in the firelight, and down each leg, and taking up each hoof, 
 narrowly examined every shoe and nail in it in succession. 
 
 " Ah ! if you can find any fault there, master, you may do as yon 
 please with me," said Ramjce. "No ; Balla at Jutt knows his trade 
 too well to allow a nail to slack, and he knows, too, vfliose mare he 
 is shoeing ! What does he say ? When Sivaji Bhoslay comes with 
 a hundred thousand horse, then I will ride with him on his raid to 
 the south, and not a horse shall drop a shoe, be the journey ever so 
 long." 
 
 "And he shall, Ramjee," cried Maloosray, laughing. " The fellow 
 is a braggart, but he is useful." 
 
 " Ah ! master, that was a rare meeting. Was it not curious that 
 so many horses wanted shoeing that day ? Well, so thought the royal 
 horsemen stationed there ; and they went about twisting up their 
 moustaches, and swelling themselves out as you never saw, my lord. 
 Many good fellows there were, who would not have cared for a chance 
 with some of those gallants in the open plain. When are we to begin, 
 master ? " 
 
 "Ay, when?" echoed a number of the men, who ceased their 
 occupation for a moment, or raised themselves on their elbows while 
 the answer was given. 
 
 "Not yet, my sons, not yet; we bide our time. And now for 
 work," answered Maloosray. " Go thou, Ramjee, to the Paigah of 
 Afzool Khan early, and see if that dog Bulwunt Rao is dead. Weil 
 was it that I tied chains in my turban folds last night, else he had 
 cloven me to the teeth. I have vowed a silver horse to the shrine of 
 Khundoba at Jejoori, for the deliverance." 
 
 "And was he slain,._master, at last ? " 
 
 " Nay, that is what I want to know," he replied. "But I had a 
 fair blow at him, and 1 rarely miss. Go, and bring news quickly." 
 
 "Master," said Ramjee in a tone of entreaty, and reverentially 
 touching Maloosray 's feet, " I will go. Let there be no risks like 
 this again. What would the Maharaja do without you, and what is 
 there to be gained here that is worth such peril ? " 
 
 "Ah, yes ! " added another, " what if ten thousand such as we are 
 were expended, it would be nothing were Tannajee safe. Only that two 
 of us in the lane behind Rama's, misdirected a party of the King's 
 men, ye had been beset, before and behind j and if the King had got 
 
202 TABA : 
 
 hold of any of ye, tlie kites and crows of tlie ' Goruk Imlee ' would 
 liave liad full bellies by this evening." 
 
 "Well, it was not of my seeking," returned Maloosray; *' for 
 Bulwunt Rao was reported dead — killed in battle two years ago ; so, 
 at least, we heard. It was like fighting a spirit, my sons ; and I missed 
 my blows. . . . Hark ! who is that without ? ISTetta ? What news, 
 brother ? " he continued, as a slight, actiye-looking man entered 
 hastily. " Didst thou find Pahar Singh, the old robber ? " 
 
 "Maharaj ! " returned the man, "there was no Pahar Singh. We 
 found a fire burning in the verandah of the temple, and I took a 
 lighted brand and looked about. All w^e could discover was a little 
 fresh blood on the floor and three gold pieces among the ashes. But 
 there was blood on the wall too, and we tracked it for a few paces, 
 when the torch went out in the rain, so we went on and heard a man 
 moaning in a nullah, and some jackals were standing by him as ^we 
 went up. Dost thou remember Maun Singh, who is with Pahar 
 Singh always ? Well, we could hardly see, so Limba went back for 
 another brand, and brought it under his blanket, and then we saw 
 the man's face. He was terribly wounded, and could not speak 
 sensibly, but one or two names escaped him, one of which was Pahar 
 Singh, and Limba knew his face." 
 
 " Ye did not let him live, the foul traitor and liar ? " cried Maloosray, 
 excitedly. " that it had been ' the Lion ' himself ! Ye did not let 
 him live ? " 
 
 "Master, he will speak no more, nor yet telllies. I have made 
 that sure enough," said Limba, -approaching and touching the feet of 
 Maloosray. " I knew him after what happened in the old Gosai\s 
 Mutt at Tooljapoor, and Moro Punt would have had me kill him then 
 and the other too, only I could find no opportunity. They had some 
 fifty horse with him, and were as shy as deer. Now I have settled 
 that account." 
 
 "Good, my son," replied Maloosray; "but what had happened, 
 Netta ? Was there no further trace of them ? " 
 
 " None, Maharaj ; we were fairly puzzled. We returned, and stayed 
 in the temple by the fire, in hopes that Pahar Singh might come 
 back ; but it was no use. Then we went and listened behind the 
 guard-house, and heard there was a man wounded in an affray — a 
 ' Gosai ' — and there was a barber dressing his wound." 
 
 " Then he did not die ? I had hoped he did." 
 
 " Holy Mother ! was this thy work, master, and all of us away ? " 
 cried several of the men. 
 
 "No; Ranoo remained with me," replied Maloosray, "and has 
 got a scratch ; but what of the man wounded ? What think ye of 
 Bulwunt Rao, my cousin, dead long since, as we thought, but come 
 to life, Netta ? " 
 
I 
 
 A MA HE ATT A TALE. 203 
 
 " My curse on him ! And he escaped you, Tannajee ? " 
 
 "I am going to see if he be dead, brother," interposed Bamjee ^ 
 "the master's blows are not little ones." 
 
 " You see, friends, they — those two Gosais — as thfy appeared, 
 must have met Pahar Singh, who directed them. I see it all now — 
 the villain's attempt to decoy us into that trap by the temptation of 
 news of the Wuzeer. Depend upon it, he has been bought over, 
 and is not to be trusted ; and he set them on our track." 
 
 " He never was," cried both the men ; " he has only one king 
 and one god — that is money," added N^eeta ; " and he has gone where 
 he could get it." 
 
 "Yes, friends, those men knew us," continued Maloosray; "and 
 to my mind the place is no longer safe : so we had as well bo 
 ready. If they have given the alarm — and Bulwunt would do so if 
 he had any sense — we shall have horsemen scouring the plains to- 
 morrow, and that fine lad, Fazil Khan, at the head of them. Sa 
 away, some of you : watch the gates ; let the horses be kept saddled 
 all day ; and let them have bread as fast as they can eat it. I would 
 go at once, Nettajee," he added to that person, taking him aside ; 
 " but the Wuzeer must be seen and spoken with first. He was at 
 Almella yesterday, and will be in the city by the afternoon. With- 
 out having speech of him, I dare not show myself before the master ; 
 and the object of our journey would be incomplete. I think we 
 may trust him." 
 
 "Alas! I fear not," replied Nettajee ; "ye are too sanguine, you 
 and the Maharaja. Khan Mahomed will not league with us ; he leans 
 to the Moghuls, and calls us ' Kafirs of Hindus,' and kills cows 
 wherever he can. I know it. Why do ye trust him, when he is 
 faithless to his own salt ? Suppose he chose to turn round and hang 
 up Tannajee Maloosray to the ' Goruk Imlee tree,' would not that 
 keep him fair in his master's eyes, and blind them to his intrigues 
 with the Padshah ? Ah, brother, trust him not : one who will 
 deceive the master who has raised him to what he is, will deceive 
 you. A slave born, he will be one to the last ; and he is not fit to 
 strike in with free men like us ! Leave him to the Moghuls, to 
 whom he will be a slave, as he was to Beejapoor : we have our own 
 road between both. But come now to Banco : is he fit to travel ? " 
 
 " He will be better after he has slept. We were owls, I^ettajee, 
 not to see through those flimsy disguises," returned Maloosray. 
 
 ''Bulwunt E-ao is better living than dead, brother; and we may 
 yet bring him round," said ISTettajee. 
 
 "I tell thee, O Netta," interrupted Tannajee, fiercely, and grind- 
 ing his teeth as he spoke, " I would cut him down with my own hand 
 at the feet of the Maharaja, rather than he should have speech of him ► 
 Kever name him to me, else we may differ." 
 
204 TAEA : 
 
 "All, tliat blow of his still rings in your liead, Tannajee," replied 
 the other, laughing. *' But come ; if you don't need sleep, I do. He 
 sleeps," he continued, as they entered the cloister where the wounded 
 man lay; "that is well; and I will do the same, Tannajee ; " and so 
 saying, he took down a sheet from a cord on which it was hanging, 
 and, wrapping himself in it, lay down, and was soon snoring loudly. 
 
 But Maloosray could not sleep, and after a while, got up, and 
 ascending the steps to the roof of the terrace, looked over the plain 
 suspiciously. All, however, was still. To the east, lightning was 
 playing about the tops of the clouds in dim flickering flashes. Every- 
 where else the sky was clear, and the stars shone with great lustre. 
 A few jackals howled in the distance, and their cry was answered 
 successively in many directions. Then the drums and horns of the 
 several guards at the gates and on the outer walls and bastions of 
 the city, sounded deep and shrill one by one, and were taken up by 
 those in the " Ark " or citadel of the palace, and so died away in the 
 distance. 
 
 His eye followed the line of towers and battlements, and narrowly 
 watched every light which might betoken a stir among the troops 
 within ; but there was none. The huge dome of the mausoleum of 
 Mahmood Adil Shah, not long completed, stood out in a dark heavy 
 m.ass against the clear sky : and beyond it the outlines of the Palace 
 of the Seven Stories — the great Cavalier — and a confused mass of 
 trees and buildings intermingled ; nearer, too, the massive walls and 
 arches of the tomb of the mother of the late King, then, as now, un- 
 finished. 
 
 All was still. High up in the palace a light twinkled now and 
 then faintly, on which Tannajee speculated dreamily. Was the King 
 awake ? the light was in his private apartments. What could he be 
 doing so late in the night ? for the drums and trumpets had sounded 
 the third watch. that he would join heartily with his master, and 
 defy the Moghuls ! Would no one tell him this was his best policy ? 
 Better a thousand times to secure the fidelity of a large ]3ortion of 
 his own subjects by timely concession, than to defy and coerce their 
 chieftain. Now, too, though the Moghuls had been once beaten off, 
 it would not be so again. They were resting and gathering strength, 
 and one by one the independent kingdoms to the north had fallen 
 before them. 
 
 How long would this remain ? — this, the most extensive, most 
 valuable, and most heretical. Better far, then, to secure the 
 Mahratta people, than to lose all by a double war with them, and 
 with the Moghuls. "Will no one tell the boy this ?" thought 
 Maloosray. " We do not wish him evil ; but the master must bo 
 free, and will be free. The people will assemble at the Dussera, and 
 the King can then have his choice between a lakh of Mahrattas and 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 205 
 
 a lakli of Moglmls, or botli combined ; and yet this old family should 
 not pass away — it should not pass away at our hands." 
 
 But we need not follow his thoughts further : better to transport 
 ourselves to that twinkling light high up in the Seven-storied Palace^ 
 and see who sit beside it, and hear what they say. 
 
 \ 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 The Palace of the Seven Stories still exists as one of the most noble 
 and picturesque ruins of the Fort of Beejapoor. Of the Seven 
 Stories, only five are now traceable ; the two upper have been de- 
 stroyed, perhaps by lightning, or have fallen from decay and dis* 
 repair ; and it is only in the third that the remains of the beautiful 
 chamber still existent there convey an idea of the effect of the whole 
 structure when it was perfect. Even this has been much damaged. 
 The gilding of the walls, of the groins of the arches and fretted roof, 
 and of its delicate arabesque borders, has all been scraped off, and 
 the fresco paintings are so destroyed by exposure, that but little- 
 exists to tell the history of the beautiful Bhagiruttee, the mistress of 
 the monarch who built the palace for her. 
 
 Enough, however, remains to show what the general design and 
 execution of the work were ; enough to prove the exquisite taste 
 which had directed its completion, and the skill and boldness of the 
 architect who had raised the dizzy tower so high. Then, the spacious, 
 arches and oriel windows were filled by richly carved panels and 
 shutters of teak wood, which admitted sufficient light and air : now, 
 these are all gone, the windows are open, and the rain and sun and 
 wind are rapidly causing decay and destruction of what remains. 
 The upper stories are so broken that they cannot be ascended ; but 
 in the one of which we speak, the traveller will be tempted to sit 
 a while looking over the masses of ruins beneath him : and over the 
 still perfect walls of the citadel. Beyond, the undulating plain 
 studded with mounds, shows lines of streets, w4th broken arches, 
 minarets, and some still perfect mosques, mausoleums, and palaces,, 
 which have withstood the effects of time and the spoiler, and remain 
 as proofs of the splendour which once prevailed. 
 
 At the period of our tale all these were perfect. The city spread 
 away to the south and west, covering many miles of plain with those- 
 streets and houses of which the lines of mounds alone remain. They 
 are interspersed with villages, w^hich are probably portions of the old 
 city, never entirely deserted, and to which the descendants of the- 
 population of those days have clung through all vicissitudes. To' 
 the east and north, after looking over the greater part of the citadel. 
 
206 TAEA : 
 
 tlie eye followed the plain beyond — tlie proper esplanade of tlie fort 
 • — and the undulating rising ground to the north-east, from which 
 the Moghul batteries had so recently poured a storm of shot upon 
 the defences, yet happily with no effect. 
 
 The King's apartment opened to the west ; and, like Af zool Khan 
 about the same time, he sat courting the breeze, which played gently 
 round the rich clustered mullions of the oriel window, and refreshed 
 and soothed him. The storm had died away, and the night was 
 clear and fresh ; while, from the garden below, ascended the mingled 
 perfume of champas, limes, tuberoses, jessamine of various kinds, and 
 other sweet-scented flowers, which loaded the air almost to excess. 
 
 A silver lamp, on a tall silver stand, stood in a recess sheltered 
 from the open casement, and its seven wicks burned brightly, illu- 
 minating the chamber, and by their strong light causing the gilded 
 roof, arches, and groins, with all their delicate colouring of rose- 
 colour, yellow, light-green, and blue enamel, to assume a soft har- 
 mony of effect — different from the light of day, yet perhaps more 
 beautiful. 
 
 Furniture there was none ; but in the space enclosed by the oriel 
 window, there was spread a rich, soft, Persian carpet, which filled 
 its area, on which, in the corner near were the young King was sit- 
 ting, lay a thick quilted mattress of green satin brocaded with gold, 
 and a large pillow of the same material, both covered with fine 
 muslin. This had been the King's seat, and it was thickly strewn 
 with papers — some Persian, some Mahratta — which, to all appear- 
 ance, had been under examination, and he had evidently just left it 
 and placed himself by the casement which he had opened. He was 
 alone, but, by the frequent glances towards the doorway, w^hich was 
 covered by a heavy curtain, some one seemed impatiently expected. 
 The events of the night had aroused unusual energy in the young 
 King ; nor, since his accession to the throne, had any occurrence ex- 
 cited him like the discovery of treason in the man he had, perhaps, 
 most trusted — his prime minister. Khan Mahomed. It was so un- 
 provoked, so undeserved. Early in life great ability and aptitude 
 for business had been remarked in the Abyssinian slave, Rehan, by 
 the late King ; and he had risen, as favourites among Asiatic princes 
 often do, rapidly to rank and wealth, with every honour which an 
 attached and grateful prince could bestow upon him. Finally he 
 had reached the rank of prime minister or Wuzeer, as we have 
 already mentioned, and, amidst all the distractions and intrigues of 
 faction, had succeeded in preserving his monarch's attachment. 
 
 In this position he was maintained by the young King on his 
 accession to the throne, notwithstanding the insinuations of many 
 that the "Wuzeer was unfaithful. The King had not heeded these 
 suspicions, nor, indeed, beyond mere rumour, was there anything 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 20T 
 
 which could lead to confirmation of them; and as the Wuzeer 
 desired it as a proof of his fidelity, the Abyssinians under his com- 
 mand had been pushed on to the north to watch the Moghul armies ; 
 for it was better to submit to the turbulence of the Dekhan chieftains 
 at the capital, who could be controlled by neutral forces like those 
 of Afzool Khan, than to risk the possible misconduct of the others. 
 Again, the Dekhanies could not be trusted with the frontier ; and 
 the King, impressed with the fidelity of Khan Mahomed, had left 
 him at his post. 
 
 At this period the Dekhanies and Abyssinians were rival factions 
 in the state. The latter were more amenable to discipline than the 
 former, who were descendants of those Mahomedan warriors — 
 Toorks, Tartars, and Affghans — who, at the close of the thirteenth 
 century, under Alla-oo-Deen, had invaded the south of India, and 
 wrested the territory in which they had settled from the Mahrattas 
 of Deogurh and the Canarese dynasty of Beejanuggur. They had 
 founded, and maintained the dynasty of Gulburgah, against the' 
 attacks of powerful Hindu states, and, when they separated from it, 
 had attached themselves to the founders of other dynasties, which 
 rivalled, and, indeed, exceeded in splendour, the parent one. 
 
 Those who were in Beejapoor had joined Ibrahim Adil Shah, when 
 he declared and established his independence of the Bahmani dynasty 
 of Grulburgah, and they had risen to rank and wealth with the state. 
 They had been led to victory by that monarch and his successors ; 
 they had conquered province after province from the infidels of the 
 southern Hindu states, and they had at last finally subdued and over- 
 turned the ancient Hindu monarchy of Beejanuggur, which, for 
 several generations, was their bitter enemy and rival. Was it 
 wonderful that they at length became arrogant, and that, to maintain 
 an equipoise against them, another element, the Abyssinian, was 
 admitted into this state ? It is the old story in the history of the 
 world of exclusive military power ; the old play which has always 
 been played out when the characters are brought together. 
 
 There were proud names among these old Dekhan families, which 
 still exist, Tartars and Toorks, who ill brooked the control of slaves 
 like Abyssinians. They were free, and held themselves equal in 
 rank to their own king — proud barons in fact, who seldom accepted 
 administrative service, and were rarely fit for it ; men " who could 
 fight, but could not write," as they boasted; turbulent, arrogant, 
 quarrelsome among themselves, split into as many factions as they 
 were families and tribes. The "Dagtorays," " Alla-ool-Moolks," 
 ^'Bhylmees," ^'Kalla Chuttrees," " Safed Poshs," and a host of 
 others, were faithful to their own state, while they were an unceasing 
 source of anxiety, and often distress, to its administrators. 
 
 So long as the Moghul armies had threatened the capital, or there 
 
208 TABA : 
 
 was employment daily in tlie field to meet a common danger, these 
 tribes and their chiefs had found occupation against the common 
 enemy, and had fought valiantly and successfully. The best cavalry 
 of the Moghul army was no match for these fiery Dekhan cavaliers. 
 Reckless of life, well mounted, each tribe and appellation vying with 
 each other, whenever there was a chance in their broad plains, they 
 had not neglected it, and* were ever in advance of the more dis- 
 ciplined though slower moving bodies of Abyssinian horse and foot, 
 whom they despised as slaves. 
 
 Between the extremes of party were those who, like Afzool Khan, 
 belonged to neither, who held a common interest and faith in the 
 dynasty they served, and whose arms had often been turned against 
 Abyssinians, and against Dekhanies, whenever revolts or mutinies of 
 either rendered it necessary. 
 
 Among these contending factions, and ever present rivalries, the 
 course of the young King had been difiicult and devious since his 
 accession ; but respect to his father's memory and experience, for he 
 had been a wise prince, a successful administrator, and a valiant 
 warrior in the field, had, in the end, induced him to continue the 
 predominance of the Abyssinian element in council ; and to allow 
 the Dekhanies scope for their ambition in military commands and 
 active service in distant provinces of the kingdom, retaining those 
 only at the capital who would prove a counterpoise to the Abys- 
 sinians, in, case of need. Influenced by personal esteem, and even 
 affection, for the man who had been his father's most trusted coun- 
 sellor and friend, he had retained Khan Mahomed in office, notwith- 
 standing the evil reports of his Dekhan officers ; and under these 
 circumstances the distress, and even dismay, of the young King at 
 the discovery of the treachery, which had long existed, was hard to 
 endure. It was his first bitter lesson in life, and there were few to 
 fall back upon for advice or consolation. 
 
 In his extremity his thoughts had turned to Afzool Khan first, 
 perhaps, of all : but again, his known intimacy with the Wuzeer ; the 
 report that the families would soon be united by the marriage of 
 Khan Mahomed's son to the old Khan's daughter ; the notorious 
 friendship of the young men ; and, above all, a certain reticence in 
 Afzool Khan's expressions whenever the Wuzeer's character or 
 actions were discussed — recurred to the King, and his thoughts turned 
 from Afzool Khan to others in succession, yet finding rest noAvhere. 
 
 Of all his officers, on whom could he depend ? Jehandar Beg, wha 
 should have been his executive in any arrest of the "Wuzeer, was 
 known to be his dependent : and thus speculating on each, he 
 estimated bitterly how really weak he was in personal adherents. 
 
 At first all appeared to be decided in his favour, but gradually re- 
 quests were made under one pretext or other, which disclosed the 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 209 
 
 time objects of his courtiers, and tlie young King had sufficient 
 discernment to estimate their professions at their full value. It 
 was these experiences which threw him back upon himself, and u.pon 
 the Wuzeer, who was, at least as he thought, moderate and unselfish. 
 Moderate, certainly, to him ; yet, at heart, more grasping and more 
 treacherous than any. 
 
 There was no doubt of that now. Again and again had the King 
 taken up the letter we have before read, and examined it closely, and 
 had each time laid it down with increased conviction that it was 
 genuine. There could be no doubt either as to the seal or the writ- 
 ing. Khan Mahomed's o\\ti hand was too peculiar to be imitated ; 
 yet he had doubted — still doubted. Tt is hard to admit conviction 
 of guilt when one's affections are pleading innocence, but here it was 
 not to be resisted ; and, as most generally follows such conviction, 
 those very affections were fast becoming the most unrelenting judges. 
 
 "Let them but confirm this," said the King, aloud, as he looked 
 out, and again turned to the papers, selected the letter, looked over 
 it, and hastily put it down with a shiver. " Let them but confirm it, 
 
 and then O, my father ! wert thou here it would be the same, 
 
 and your son will not flinch from the necessity, be it what it may." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 As yet the King's thoughts had admitted nothing definitely ; the blow 
 had been too sudden, the provocation too great, for aught but a 
 numbness of perception which checked conclusive determination; 
 but this was passing away fast, and it was becoming still more appa- 
 rent that, if Khan Mahomed's plan had succeeded, he must, if he 
 survived it, be the dependent of his own slave and his father's. 
 Were the other letters, which they had looked over hastily, true also ? 
 Men's tongues had before been busy with the Wuzeer's reputation, 
 and now were so again — the same subject and the same man ; and it 
 was — "true, true ! " 
 
 Unconsciously he had spoken aloud in his reverie, and the word 
 seemed to come as if an echo of his own thought. 
 
 "Who spoke?" he cried, looking round — "Who spoke?" His 
 very question seemed to make the silence more impressive ; and, as 
 he strained his eyes into the gloom of the chamber, there was no 
 sound but the gentle sough of the night wind, laden with moisture, 
 among the trees below and the open latticework of the windows. 
 " The spirits of the dead are around me to-night," he continued to 
 himself, shuddering. " Listen, father ! Listen, sweet mother ! 
 O Prophet of God, on whom be peace, assist and hear me ! O thou 
 
210 TABA 
 
 fountain and dispenser of justice, make me true and bold ; make me, 
 as I sliould be, tby agent among tby people. If I have been a cbild 
 till now, forgive me — tbat is past. . . . He writes to the Emperor, 
 that I am a boy ! — that I am a boy ! Inshalla ! ISTo ! that is past ! " 
 As he spoke, the sound of voices below, and of footsteps ascending 
 the narrow stair were distinctly audible, and he paused to listen. 
 "It is they at last, and the Meerza has not delayed. Enter," he 
 cried, as the steps appeared to reach the landing-place and doorway 
 — "enter, I am here." 
 
 The heavy quilted curtain was pushed aside, and three persons 
 advanced — one the Meerza or secretary we have before mentioned ; 
 the other two we have not yet seen ; but they had been often employed 
 as confidential advisers by the King, and he had now sent for them. 
 When they returned from the temple, the King and his secretary 
 had examined the papers they had obtained, with great care and 
 anxiety, and they proved to be far more voluminous and important 
 than even our friend the Lalla had imagined. 
 
 The dates of the letters extended over several years. Some, of 
 later date, within the year, had evidently been sent secretly, for 
 they were rolled up into the smallest possible compass, in lead, and 
 BO that they could be put into the mouth, or otherwise hidden ; the 
 handwriting was disguised, and several w^ere written in cypher ; 
 but the most recent were not disguised at all, and the seals were 
 perfect. The whole formed a series, and they had hastily put them 
 together. Each letter confirmed the other, or seemed to do so, and 
 yet, considering the issue at stake, neither cared to trust their own 
 judgment : and the papers needed confirmation, as well of their 
 authenticity as of their reference to former occurrences and dates. 
 
 Of the Mahratta documents, however, they could form no opinion, 
 as neither could read the character ; but the secretary was familiar 
 with the seal, and even the rude signature, of Sivaji Bhc5slay ; and 
 these letters might throw some light on the subject of reputed in- 
 trigues with the Emperor, and prove a guide to future proceedings. 
 The two persons who had been summoned so hastily to the night 
 council were, in the first place, Peer Dustageer Khaderi, a holy 
 Syud, or descendant of the Prophet, of the purest lineage, and the 
 head of a religious house or establishment of Durwaysh, or, as we 
 familiarly call them, " Dervishes," which had been largely endowed 
 by the State, and for whose ancestors, buried in the precincts of the 
 shrine, miracles were now becoming ostensibly claimed. As a con- 
 sequence, the holy influence of the " Peer " was decidedly on the 
 increase ; and as he had been chosen as religious instructor to the 
 King, he was at that time his " Moorshid," or spiritual guide ; and 
 being a shrewd, well-educated person, possessed of deep local experi- 
 ence, and, from his position, able to obtain information of a trust- 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 211 
 
 worthy nature, he was frequently consulted. To give him due 
 credit, the Peer had proved, on more than one occasion, to have 
 rendered valuable service. Him, therefore, had the King named as 
 the person best fitted to be intrusted with the secret they had obtained. 
 
 The other was an old Brahmun, who entered leaning upon a long 
 stick with a gold head, yet not so as to evince weakness, and was as 
 remarkable in his degree as the person whom he accompanied. 
 Neelkunt Rai Pansay, in the outset of his life a humble Karkoon, or 
 clerk, in the revenue department of the State, had served, in suc- 
 cession, three generations of its kings, and, at upwards of eighty 
 years old, was still cleaj'-headed, astute, and faithful. He had risen to 
 the rank of " Peshcar," or finance minister, by his valuable services 
 in that department ; and though an " infidel, " as he was termed by the 
 Peer, was beloved and respected, and consulted on occasions of more 
 than ordinary solemnity or embarrassment, more particularly in 
 regard to the affairs of his own people, the Hindus of the kingdom. 
 
 While the secretary advanced to the King, the others stood at the 
 further end of the apartment. ]N'either knew why they had been 
 summoned, and the hour of the night, the, to them, strange fact of 
 being together in the most private apartment of the palace, and in 
 the King's presence, caused them to look at each other wonderingly. 
 
 These were not persons who could ever unite in private friend- 
 ship ; for the Peer, a bigoted follower of Mahomed, and a holy saint 
 to boot, was one of those who, as warriors of the faith, would have 
 led armies against the infidels, and utterly exterminated them. That 
 king of Gulburgah, Feroze Shah, was in his eyes a true Moslem, and 
 now surely enjoying Paradise, who, in pursuance of his vow, had 
 slain a hundred thousand of the infidels of Beejanuggur, and made 
 pyramids of their heads at the gate of his city. If the kings of 
 Beejapoor had been such it would have been well ; but, alas ! in his 
 eyes they were degenerate. Here was a proof : the infidel minister 
 sent for to confer with him ! the Syud ! " Astagh-fur-Ulla ! " (God 
 forbid it !) gurgled in his throat, and he edged away and gathered up 
 his garments with a gesture decidedly contemptuous. 
 
 This did not escape the old Brahmin's notice, but it was no time 
 to resent it, for they were called forward. A word from the secre- 
 tary had decided the King to have the Mahratta letters first examined. 
 Aroused from his sleep, and in the presence of a Brahmun, the Syud 
 was not likely to discuss any matter temperately mth one ; nor, 
 indeed, in a subject in which Mahomedan honour was involved, was 
 it politic, perhaps, to reveal particulars to a Hindu ; but the fact or 
 otherwise of Sivaji Bhoslay's attachment or treachery so affected 
 the Wuzeer's position, that it could not be concealed from one who, 
 whatever his faults of religious arrogance might be, was at least a 
 firm friend of the young King and of his government. 
 
212 TAEA 
 
 " Salaam-o-alykoom ! Khoosh amudeed ! (you are welcome),"' 
 said tlie King, using the Persian salutation to the Sjud, and rising 
 as he advanced. 
 
 " Salaam- o-alyk ! " returned the holy man, advancing, as was his 
 wont, in a peculiar but characteristic manner ; that is, he bent his 
 head forward, so as to assume a stoop which might be supposed 
 reverential, but which was, in fact, patronising in the extreme ; 
 stretching forth his arms in an attitude of benediction, and, having 
 set his feet nearly at right angles, he shuffled with'short steps towards 
 the edge of the carpet on which was the King's seat. " My lord's 
 health is sound, and his brain is clear ? " 
 
 "I am well," returned the King ; "be seated." 
 
 The Peer looked for a place as near the King as possible, and, 
 with another wave of his hands, settled himself upon his heels with 
 two motions — first, to drop on his knees, and second, to subside upon 
 his heels, very much after the fashion of a camel when it is to be 
 loaded. This done, he joined his hands together, and smiling 
 blandly, again ventured to ask whether " My lord and prince were 
 well." 
 
 "By your favour and the mercy of God," replied the King, "I am 
 well." 
 
 " Ul-humd-ul-illa ! (Praise be to Grod !) Shookr ! shookr I 
 (thanks, thanks !) " ejaculated the Peer devoutly, as he settled him- 
 self more comfortably ; then, taking his rosary from his waist, began 
 to tell his beads with great rapidity, as the old Brahmun, following* 
 to the edge of the carpet, and making a humble and reverential 
 salutation, stood awaiting the King's pleasure. 
 
 "Be seated, Neelkunt Rai," said the King kindly; and as the old 
 man stooped to the ground, supporting himself by his stick, the 
 secretary compassionately put his hand under his arm, and let him 
 down gently. The scowl from the Peer at this unwonted act of 
 courtesy was lost upon the secretary, but not upon the old man him- 
 self ; nor was his look of thanks to the person who had assisted him 
 unremarked by the Syud. " I will watch them," he said inwardly : 
 *' these two seem to understand each other." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 The King spoke first, breaking a silence which, though only lasting 
 for a few moments, seemed interminably oppressive. 
 
 "I have called you, ISTeelkunt Rai," he said, "to examine and 
 read to me some papers which have come into my possession. There 
 is no one about me from whom I can expect more true fidelity than 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE. 213 
 
 from you in a delicate matter. Give him the papers, Meerza ; thej 
 are before you." 
 
 " May my lord's favour and condescension increase," returned the 
 old man, bowing humbly. ''I have never deceived the State, and 
 am too old to begin ; and as the grandson is now, so were the father 
 and grandfather always towards me ; true confidence is rarely dis- 
 appointed." 
 
 The King sighed. "Alas," he said, " would it were so! Read 
 and judge for yourself." 
 
 Neelkunt Rai took the papers, cast his eyes over a few lines, put 
 them down, fumbled in his pockets for his spectacles, which finally 
 were found in a fold of his turban, put them on, and looked first 
 at thp end of the paper. 
 
 " The letters are from Sivaji Bhoslay, my lord. Doubtless some 
 renewal of his former excesses, and his usual apologies for them. 
 Shall I read them." 
 
 '' If that were all, Neelkunt Rai, we could forgive them," replied 
 the King; "but read; we may perhaps be in error about them, 
 though truly our vassal grows in power, and heeds not warnings or 
 advice." 
 
 " It is only a few months since he took the four forts," interposed 
 the Meerza, " and the letters given to Afzool Khan mention that he 
 is repairing and putting grain into them, and that Pertabgurh, where 
 he lives, is now impregnable, and that — — " 
 
 " Let him read, Meerza Sahib," said the Peer ironically : " one so 
 high in the favour of the King should not be interrupted ; " and he 
 stroked his beard gently with one hand, while the beads of his 
 rosary passed rapidly through the fingers of the other, and his lips 
 repeated the particular invocation of the divinity which suited every 
 bead. " Let him read ; my lord is already listening." 
 
 Neelkunt Rai proceeded. He had been deceived by the addi'ess, 
 which was that usually written to his own sovereign, and had read 
 the letter through unsuspiciously ; but as its purport became evident, 
 it was clear, by his change of countenance, that this was no ordinary 
 communication, and after a while he stopped suddenly. 
 
 " It is not fit for my lord to hear," he said excitedly. "This is 
 treason! " 
 
 "Be not afraid, Neelkunt Rai, we would know the worst," replied 
 the King. 
 
 " Yes, my lord should know who are true and who are false," 
 added the Peer, pompously. " It is true wisdom ! " 
 
 " As'you will," returned the old man, bowing to the King, and not 
 noticing the Peer ; " your servant is not responsible for what is 
 written, and you must be patient with it ; " and he read and trans- 
 lated as he went on. 
 
214 TABA : 
 
 There could be no doubt that the treason was nnmasked and un- 
 concealed. The wrongs of his father, wrote Sivaji, who for four 
 years had been imprisoned in the dungeon of the citadel of Beeja- 
 poor, near the gate, called for revenge ; the wrongs of the people, 
 suffering under endless local oppression and exaction, called for re- 
 dress, which it was hopeless to expect at the hands of a boy, priest- 
 ridden and under the domination of bigoted and ignorant ministers. 
 The conclusion was characteristic of the writer. All he desired was 
 confirmation of his ancestral rights, and permission to serve, with his 
 forces, in the imperial interest. 
 
 Letter after letter was read, all much to the same purpose ; those 
 of the latter dates being more particular, perhaps, than the former. 
 " Enough," cried the King at last, "we are weary of these details. 
 What dost thou think, Neelkunt Rai ? " 
 
 " My lord," said the old man, joining his hands, " mine are not the 
 words of flattery ; nor is my advice given without reason. I cannot 
 control men's tongues, nor can I hinder the actions of such as Sivaji 
 Bhoslay ; nor yet am I a soldier, to estimate whether his means are 
 proportionate to the end he proposes to attain. If I may speak, I will 
 do so truly, and as one who is near death now ; but my lord must 
 not be offended, else I am silent." 
 
 " Be careful, and do not transgress the bounds of propriety and 
 respect," said the priest. 
 
 " Let him speak as he will, Syud," cried the King, hastily ; " do 
 not interrupt him. Fear not, ISTeelkunt Eai." 
 
 " I fear no one, because I have no reason to do so," returned the 
 old man simply, and looking steadily at the priest. " What I have 
 to say is this : the disaffection of Sivaji Bh6slay may spread, but it 
 has not yet become dangerous. That it will be so, if not checked, 
 there is no doubt, for the whole Mahratta people are with him ; and 
 
 there are many signs among them that he will be great " 
 
 " That he will be great ? " echoed the King. 
 
 " My lord," interrupted the Syud, " I know all about that. Some 
 of my disciples who live at ajjdistance, have come to me from time 
 to time lately, and told me of the damnable doings of the infidels ; 
 and how this Sivaji is supposed to have revelations from their godsj 
 but they are but stones — they are but stones, and gold and silver. 
 Now, what saith the blessed Prophet, on whom be peace, about such 
 infidels ? " 
 
 " Spare us, good Syud," returned the King, interrupting him 
 gently, " we know the passages ; but God hath seen fit to give our 
 house subjects of this faith ; and they are all our children — they — 
 as well as the true believers. We can see no difference." 
 
 " Astagh-fur-ooUa ! No difference ! " cried the Syud. "Is it not 
 written in the holy book, how they shall be burned in the fires of 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 215 
 
 hell, and thou say est there is no difference ! Some one hath surely 
 bewitched thee with sorcery, my son, and 1 will say exorcisms for 
 thee — and ' ' 
 
 " Enough,*' returned the King, coldly ; " we have not time to 
 waste in discussion on such matters now. Proceed, Neelkunt Rai." 
 
 " The Syudis a holy man," said the old minister, " and he and his 
 house are venerated, and he should be merciful and considerate to 
 all ; but as he, too, hath heard the rumours in regard to Sivaji, my 
 lord will believe them. And it would be well not to disregard them 
 entirely. A people's enthusiasm is not to be trifled with." 
 
 " There is but one cure for it, if they are infidels, and that is the 
 sword," murmured the Syud. "What saith " 
 
 "We cannot suffer these interruptions," interposed the King, 
 haughtily. 
 
 "Peace, Meer Sahib," whispered the Meerza, laying his hand on 
 the other's arm, as he was about to rise. "Peace, and be still. In 
 what will come afterwards we have need of thee — much need ; bo 
 still." 
 
 " My prince," said ISTeelkunt Rai, endeavouring to rise, " I have 
 done what was needed, and beg leave to depart in peace. My King 
 knows the worst. What his servant would advise will not now be 
 listened to, were he even to speak." 
 
 " Say on," cried the King, interrupting him ; "thou hast a right to 
 speak. Say on ; we will not prevent thee." 
 
 " But he will," returned the Karkoon, pointing to the Syud. 
 
 " If he speaks no irreverence against the people of the true faith, 
 he may talk till morning," said the Syud, with a wave of the hand. 
 " I shall be dumb and deaf." 
 
 " I have little to represent, my lord," replied the old man. " It is 
 hard to say whether rebellion such as this, should be crushed or for- 
 given. If I should advise the former, can it be done ? If the latter, 
 I maybe suspected of partiality. Ah, my prince, if you gird up your 
 loins to fight Sivaji, it will but be trying to grasp the wind ; and your 
 best troops will be taken into his mountains, leaving their places 
 empty for the Moghuls to occupy, and that were a dangerous risk. 
 No ! send your royal ' kowl ' to the Bhoslay — invite him here — 
 ennoble him — treat him as your ancestors treated the Beyder chief 
 of Suggur, and you will secure him. If a time of trial should ever 
 come, which may the gods avert, the old Brahmun's words and cau- 
 tions for the adoption of a merciful policy \vill not be forgotten. 
 May I depart ? " 
 
 "Yes, you have permission to depart, Neelkunt Rai," said the 
 King, interrupting the Syud, who was about to speak angrily. " It 
 is even as we suspected in regard to those letters, and the Bh6slay's 
 treachery to the State. We would ask one thing more : — what force 
 hath Sivaji in reality ? " 
 
216 TAEA : 
 
 *' My prince," returned the Brahmnn, rising and leaning on his 
 staff, " what shall I say ? Have you no reports ? Were not letters 
 given to Af zool Khan to read ? Ask him ; he knows that country 
 better than I do — far better. Ask the Syud what his disciples tell him." 
 
 "]^o, no; I will have your opinion," interrupted the King. 
 *' Speak ! what do your people, the Brahmuns, say about it ?" 
 
 " May I be forgiven, my lord, if it prove untrue. Yet I will 
 speak as I hear," replied the old man. " My prince knows that I am 
 not of this country, nor of this people ; I have no interest in them 
 except as Hindus ; but you may be assured there is not a Mahratta 
 breathing who will not follow Sivaji, and the divine call he is believed 
 to have received. 'No man who can wield a sword or carry a gun, or 
 who has a horse to ride, that will not go to the places of meeting 
 when — Hhe fire is on the hills.' How many there may be, the gods 
 only know ! Lakhs ! lakhs ! who can count them ? Beware of 
 them, my prince, and secure their chief ere it be too late." 
 
 "What has passed here is secret, Neelkunt Bai," said the King. 
 " Thou mayst go ; we will send for thee again in this matter ere it 
 be concluded," and with a deep reverence to the King, and saluta- 
 tions to the others, the old man retreated a few paces backwards, 
 then turned, and passed out of the chamber. 
 
 " Blessed be Grod and the Prophet ! " exclaimed the Syud when he 
 was gone. *' The air was defiled by his breath ! Ul-humd-ul-illa ! 
 a Kafir and a traitor, may he- 
 
 ^^ Peace, Meer Sahib, we have dismissed him, and that is enough," 
 said the King. "Our father, on whose memory be peace, trusted 
 him, and so did his father, — so also do we." 
 
 " As my prince pleases," returned the holy man, with a humble 
 gesture, and checking the volley of curses he had prepared to hurl 
 after the old Brahmun. " In this matter it seemed to me that his 
 counsel was cowardly and dangerous. How say you, Meerza ? Was 
 Feroze Shah afraid of infidels when he and his true believers slew 
 them by lakhs, and the pyramids of heads stood by the gates of Grul- 
 burgah ? And is our prince less than he was, or are these Mahratta 
 Kafirs more powerful than those of Beejanugger ? Speak, man ! " 
 
 " My opinion would be little worth," said the secretary, " even did 
 my lord desire it, and there are others more capable of judging of the 
 power of this Mahratta robber than I am. What you have to advise 
 our master upon is another matter, Syud." 
 
 " Explain it to him, Meerza," said the King, sadly : "I am sick of 
 treachery, which seems to be closing round me like a net on all sides." 
 
 " God and the Prophet forbid ! " exclaimed both in a breath. 
 " Treachery known, is soon disposed of. That which sits crouching 
 in hidden places is alone to be dreaded," continued the Syud. " Ere 
 I hear the detail, I have my fears." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 217 
 
 '* jN'ay, read thyself and judge," said the King, " Give him the 
 letters, Meerza." 
 
 "I have compared the seals," said the secretary, '*with those 
 letters recently received by the King, and the writing also. Judge 
 for yourself before you read." 
 
 The Syud obeyed. He examined and compared the seals, the 
 superscription, and the paper of all, with much care and evident 
 interest, as expressed in various ejaculations of wonder, and appeals 
 to the divinity under various appellations suited to the circumstances, 
 which maybe spared. "iSTo doubt, no doubt," he said, after the 
 scrutiny had been concluded, " no doubt of these, nor of the super- 
 scription. They only confirm what hath long been in men's mouths, 
 yet was undetected." 
 
 " Read," said the King. " Satisfy yourself." . 
 
 CHAPTER XXXY. 
 
 "Iris finished, my lord," said the Syud, looking up, after an ex- 
 amination of the papers which had appeared interminable, and as ho 
 spoke, the cry of the Muezzin of the Royal Mosque arose in the 
 invitation to morning prayer, sonorous and musical, " Alia hu Akbur ! 
 Alia hu Akbur !" " It is finished," he continued, " and it is the will 
 of Alia that morning prayer should come with the last words. 
 Come, my lord, let us do this service, and ask a blessing on our 
 deliberation. Come to the terrace in the fresh morning air." 
 
 We need not follow them. As they returned and seated them- 
 selves again by the oriel window, the first blush of dawn was stealing 
 over the sky, paling the stars, and the gentle breeze of morning 
 rustled softly among the leaves of the gardens below. The cere- 
 mony he had performed, the ablution, and the air of the teri^ce 
 outside to which they had adjourned, had refreshed the King after 
 this weary night. 
 
 " Speak, Syud," he said, as they resumed their seats. "AYhat is 
 it to be ?" 
 
 "I need not, my lord," replied the Syud. " What Alia hath put 
 into thy heart I now see in thine eyes, and so be it ! Ameen ! 
 ameen ! ameen ! It is his destiny. He is not fit to live ; let him 
 die, perjured and faithless as he is. My lord, he had sworn on the 
 holy book to me to be true. He had touched my feet and my neck 
 as witness to his oath. Yet see, since then, nay, within a few weeks, 
 this letter — worst of all — was written. But O, my prince ! there 
 must be no mistake. Even at the last, let not the blood of a 
 guiltless man be on our heads." 
 
218 TABA: 
 
 The Sjnd's resolntion had wavered for a moment, but was rallied 
 by the secretary as the King shook his head, but did not reply. 
 
 "Meer Sahib," he said, "we have had the same doubts, my lord 
 and I. Considering how we obtained the letters, can there be un- 
 certainty ?" 
 
 "God forbid !" replied the Syud — " God forbid ! it is enough. I 
 see in this revelation the hand of the All- wise, and we, his creatures, 
 should not resist His destinies and His justice. We cannot do so 
 even if we wished," and he bowed his head reverently over his beads* 
 " Hark ! what is that ? " 
 
 " Ulla dilaya to leonga ! Ulla dilaya to leonga ! (If God give 
 I will take ! If God give I will take)" was suddenly shouted in an 
 outer court of the palace by a powerful voice, and interrupted the 
 priest for a moment. 
 
 "Listen!" he continued, grasping the Meerza's arm. "What is 
 that cry, so strange, and so early ?" 
 
 " It is but one of the city beggars," said the King, looking across 
 to his secretary with a peculiar glance of intelligence, " who perhaps 
 has not slept off his night's potions. One of thine own disciples, 
 perhaps, Huzrut." 
 
 " I will go and listen," said the secretary, rising ; and he pro- 
 ceeded to the terrace where the morning prayer had been performed. 
 
 " Ulla dilaya to leonga !" arose in clear deep tones, now unchecked 
 by the heavy quilted curtain of the royal chamber. It was a common 
 form of cry of fakeers or other beggars ; but there was something 
 in the rough tone of the voice which seemed to strike familiarly 
 upon the Meerza's ear. 
 
 " Ulla dilaya to leonga !" 
 
 The last cry was followed by a remonstrance from the soldiers 
 below, who, belonging to the guard of the private apartments, had 
 evidently stopped the intruder. 
 
 " Gently, O Syn," cried one ; " what dost thou here so early ? 
 Do not bawl so loud, friend, else they will be awakened up yonder, 
 and thou wilt be whipped and put in the stocks. Come and sit 
 here, and rest thyself if thou wilt." 
 
 " Ulla dilaya to leonga !" was the only reply. 
 
 " Nay, but thou canst not enter here, Syn. This is the private 
 court of the Hareem, and thou must be silent," continued the soldier. 
 
 "Ulla dilaya to leonga!" 
 
 " The fellow is mad or drunk. Here, Jemadar," cried another 
 voice ; " what is to be done with this Fakeer ?" 
 
 " Who can this be ?" thought the Meerza. " This is no common 
 cry. I must see the worthy Syud out, and get speech of the crier." 
 
 " Ulla dilaya " 
 
 The Fakeer 's cry was broken off abruptly, and there was a noise 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 219 
 
 as if of a scuffle below. Could it be any one in the Wuzeer's in- 
 terest, seeking for information, or perhaps with deadly intent. "Ho 
 there !" cried the secretary; "what noise is that so early, disturbing 
 the King ?" 
 
 " Some drunken Fakeer, my lord," returned one of the guards, 
 looking up, " who has intruded, God knows how." 
 
 " Keep him, and I will come down presently," answered the 
 Meerza, not waiting for the reply, but re-entering the chamber. 
 
 " Some Fakeer, my lord," he continued to the King, but answer- 
 ing his look of intelligence, " whom I have ordered to be confined 
 till the Darogah of the palace can deal with him for his insolence." 
 
 "If he be one of my men come after me," said the Syud, "he 
 shall be punished. And now, my lord, have I permission to depart ? 
 Delay not in this matter ; and may God give you a safe deliverance 
 from a traitor!" 
 
 "You may go, Meer Sahib," said the King; "and we thank you 
 for this visit ; but shall need you at noon." 
 
 "Your servant will be present without fail," returned the Syud, 
 humbly. " Would that his power were equal to his devotion in the 
 King^s service ! " 
 
 "Return directly," said the King, in a whisper, to his secretary, 
 as the holy man waddled slowly to the door. " I know who it is ; 
 bring him hither at once. Hast thou forgotten the Jogi of the 
 temple?" 
 
 " Hither ? that fearful man !" 
 
 " Yes, and at once — any excuse — say he does exorcism — anything."" 
 
 The secretary hesitated. 
 
 " At once," continued the King, positively, " and without fail. I 
 feared him not then, when I was in his power and helpless, neither 
 do I now. Go, take this with thee," and he slipped his signet ring 
 into the Meerza's hand. 
 
 " I will have him searched at any rate," thought the Meerza, as 
 he descended the narrow staii*. " Take care, Meer Sahib, the light 
 is uncertain. Ah, here we are. Who is that, Abdulla, that was 
 crying out ?" he said to a eunuch, who, with others, kept guard at 
 the foot of the stairs. 
 
 " I know not, my lord. He is some drunken Fakeer, no doubt ;. 
 and they have tied him up, I hear." 
 
 " He may be wanted above," whispered the Meerza. " Let him 
 follow me, and without notice or hindrance. Some exorcism is. 
 needed — you understand — within " 
 
 The man stared, and only bowed assent over his crossed arms. 
 " Who dared question royal secrets ?" 
 
 " Coming, Meer Sahib ; I only looked for my shoes," cried the 
 Meerza to his companion, who had advanced a few paces. 
 
220 . TARA: 
 
 Hearing the secretary's voice, several persons emerged from tlie 
 guard-room, holding the Fakeer tightly. His face was distinctly 
 seen in the morning light, and there could be no mistake. 
 
 " He is not one of my children," said the Syud, blandly, looking 
 at the man, and seating himself in his palankeen, which had been 
 brought up ; " some drunken brawler, no doubt, who deserves a 
 whipping. Send him to the Kotwal, my sons. I am departing, 
 Meerza Sahib." 
 
 "Khoda Hafiz ! (God be with you !)" returned the secretary. 
 *' At noon, you remember !" 
 
 '' Of course, Meerza Sahib, the royal commands are on my head 
 and eyes. Go on, my sons," and the bearers shuffled along at their 
 usual pace. 
 
 " Shookr Oolla ! (tliank Grod !)" ejaculated the secretary, who 
 had doubts of the priest, as he had of most others. "Who art 
 thou, fellow ?" he added to the prisoner. 
 
 " Bid them loose me," said Pahar Singh, for it was he, " and I 
 will tell thee. Hast thou forgotten so quickly ?" 
 
 " My lord," said one of the soldiers, '' let us turn him out into 
 the town.". 
 
 " How he got in here," added another, " no one knows ; yet he is 
 not drunk, and he has done no harm beyond bawling and struggling. 
 He has the strength of a fiend." 
 
 " Loose him, my friends ; he is an exorcist, and there has been 
 some trouble within," replied the secretary. " I must take him into 
 the presence. He has no arms ? Behold the royal seal." 
 
 " I have the amulet which shall restore health to the sick," growled 
 the pretended Fakeer; "it is sorely needed, and time presses. The 
 planetary conjunction is passing." 
 
 " Come, Syn ; I will lead thee in," said the secretary, taking his 
 hand. 
 
 " He has no weapons — we searched him well ; but he will answer 
 no questions," said several men, speaking together. 
 
 " Ah, my friends," replied the secretary, gravely, " those who cast 
 out evil spirits are not to be questioned. Come, Syn, follow me." 
 
 The men shrugged their shoulders incredulously. What could it 
 mean ? To all except the Meerza the entry of such a character to 
 the private apartments at any hour would have been impossible — 
 but now, and under the King's seal? How had he entered the 
 citadel ? The guard at the gate had not seen him pass ; and this 
 mystery, with the fact of his having been expected, furnished plen- 
 tiful cause of speculation to those who had seized him. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 "• What is it ? " asked tlie Meerza anxiously, as they passed into tlie 
 inner court. " Why hast thou come, Pahar Singh, thus early ? '' 
 
 " Is he above — Ali Adil Shah ? " asked the robber ; " what I have 
 to say is for him alone. And thou hast recognized me, O Meerza ? '^ 
 
 "He is," replied the Meerza; "follow me and be silent. I will 
 fell him. Yes, I knew thee, and he trusts thee." 
 
 The eunuchs of the lower guard bowed their heads on their 
 folded arms as the two men passed and ascended the stair together. 
 When they reached the terrace, the Meerza stepped on and drew 
 aside the curtain. 
 
 " He is come, my lord," he said in a low tone — "he — the robber/*" 
 
 " I thought so," replied the King ; " bring him in." 
 
 As Pahar Singh entered, the light of the lamp shone full on him, 
 and revealed a haggard anxious face ; his large eyes were gleaming- 
 wildly from among the heavy masses of his matted hair, now 
 hanging about his shoulders ; but the disguise as a Mahomedan 
 mendicant was as ^complete as that of the Hindu Jogi had been. 
 He made no lowly reverence, but advanced boldly — defiantly, as it 
 were — to the edge of the carpet, and the King involuntarily 
 grasped the hilt of the short sword lying beside him. 
 
 "The King might kill me," said the man, observing the action; 
 " a word, and the head of Pahar Singh is struck from his body by 
 those eunuchs yonder. There is no escape hence — is it not so ? 
 Yet I have trusted thee, O King, and do not fear thee, even as thou 
 didst not fear me. I am here, true to thy salt ; and what I have ta 
 tell thee is as true as I am." 
 
 "Fear not," said the King, "and speak freely; thou art safe here."" 
 
 " Does he know all ? " asked the robber, pointing to the Meerza. 
 
 "All, friend. Was he not with me, and are not these the 
 letters ? " returned the King. " Else 
 
 I believe thee, Adil Khan," said Pahar Singh. "Now, listen: 
 time is short, and much has to be done ere thou art safe." 
 
 The King started. " Safe ? " he cried. 
 
 " Ay, safe, my lord. Khan Mahomed was at Almella yesterday^ 
 and is on his way hither now. He will be here about the third 
 watch of the day, or sooner. What brings him, think you ? " said 
 Pahar Singh, rapidly. 
 
 " I sent him a letter of assurance, and he believes it," said the 
 King. 
 
 " Believes it, King ? He ? " exclaimed the man derisively. " He ? 
 Thou art but a simple boy to think so. No, he has understood it 
 rightly, and in reply has brought some hundreds of my men with. 
 
222 TABA 
 
 him. Wliat for ? — it is in tHiie eyes to ask — what for ? 1 will tell 
 thee. Ah ! thj heart tells thee now : there is no need for me to 
 speak." 
 
 " Then his designs are evil, friend," said the King, with a slight 
 shudder. 
 
 " King ! without that letter he was not to be trusted. After he 
 receiyed it he knew his fate," returned Pahar Singh. "We — I — 
 have an evil reputation, they say : and he believed I would do any- 
 thing for money. He sent an express messenger for me from 
 Nuldroog. I had come here wdth those letters, but my son went. 
 Money was offered to him : rank — an estate — whatever he pleased. 
 Money ? yea, much money. A lakh of rupees — more. Why? thou 
 already knowest. Yes — to kill thee, O Adil Khan, thou wert not 
 to live over to-day. My son pleaded fatigue and my absence — 
 time also to collect the men. That is why Khan Mahomed did not 
 arrive yesterday. That is why he is at Almella now. My son is 
 shrewd and wise — ^he secured all he could of the Wuzeer's money ; 
 and then — ah, blessed boy! — he rode on to meet] me last night. 
 Ha, ha ! they thought he had gone to Itga to hurry on the men ; 
 but he is a good youth — he knew what to do. A gallant horse is 
 that which that Lalla left with us ; thy life was on its feet, O 
 Prince ! and my boy was in sore temptation. So he reached me 
 last night, just as I had gained my hiding-place, of which he knew. 
 Ah, I was sick at heart, for my brother was dead " 
 
 " Dead ! " cried the secretary ; " God forbid ! he was with thee, 
 and well." 
 
 "Ay, dead, Meerza," continued Pahar Singh. "Yes, murdered 
 — perish the cowardly hand that struck the blow in the dark. We 
 were attacked by robbers, who had watched us, and he was struck 
 down in the fight. I went for assistance to carry him, and when I 
 returned he was dead, and a knife- wound in his heart. Enough, 
 master," continued Pahar Singh, dashing his hand roughly across 
 his eyes. " He died in thy service. Enough for him." 
 
 " And then ? " asked the King. 
 
 " My son had consented to do the work ; and that slave, the 
 Wuzeer, believed him. The boy told me he pretended to hate the 
 King, and that there was a death feud between our house and 
 thine, Adil Khan — was it not good? O, he is a clever youth 
 that. It was he who got those letters, too : and now he has re- 
 ceived money from the slave. Enough ! Speak, O King. Is the 
 slave to be delivered into thy hand alive, or wilt thou give him to 
 me — ^to me, Pahar Singh ? Dost thou doubt me ? I ask no money 
 — no reward from thee. Thy house — thy very life — is in peril : 
 Pahar Singh can save both, and ask nothing but to be held true to 
 his master's salt. Nay, do not interrupt me," he continued, waving 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 223 
 
 his hand, while he wiped away the foam which, in his excitement, 
 had gathered on his Hps. " Think, Adil Khan, was thy royal house 
 ever so threatened before ? Hath not the Wuzeer prepared the 
 enemy to make his last swoop upon thee, even as a falcon on a 
 hare ; and wert thou dead, with no son to rally men around him, 
 and Khan Mahomed holding the power, — could thy kingdom be 
 preserved ? Are the Moghuls idle ? Is Sivaji Bhoslay indifferent ? 
 Above all, could thy royal armies have saved thee had I been a 
 traitor ? " 
 
 " Come hither," cried Adil Shah, from whose eyes the tears were 
 welling fast as he thought upon his defenceless state, the deep 
 treachery which had been meditated, and the rough earnest devo- 
 tion of this strange man. " Come hither : let me put my hand on 
 thy head." 
 
 Pahar Singh advanced. The squalid mendicant covered with 
 rags — to all appearance what he seemed, so complete was the dis- 
 guise — trod boldly upon the royal bed of satin and velvet ; but he 
 bowed his head to meet the hand which the King extended and laid 
 upon it gently. 
 
 " As thou wilt, true servant," said the King, " for there is a stern 
 and fearful necessity to be encountered. Whatever reward thou 
 mayst claim hereafter is freely bestowed upon thee — all thou 
 hast ever done against me or my people is forgiven. Take that 
 slave for thine own if thou wilt, to deal with as it seemeth good to 
 thee." 
 
 " Remember," cried Pahar Singh, seizing the King's hand and 
 detaining it upon his head, " these words cannot be revoked. What- 
 ever happens, I do but thy bidding, King ; and, only for the need 
 for thee to know it, I had^ done the same even though I had not 
 seen thee. Now I go, whither ye cannot trace me, but ye will hear 
 of me ere the day is past." 
 
 " Go," replied the King. " I have no fear of thee or of thine acts. 
 Alia and the Prophet direct and keep thee, O true friend, whom he 
 hath sent me in my need. Go ! " 
 
 " Only be careful," continued the man, withdrawing the King's 
 hand from his head, kissing it reverently, and then releasing it — 
 " only be careful ! Stir not beyond the fort till the news comes 
 to thee. The guards on the gates and within are of the true party, 
 and thou art safe with them. Care not for revolt; the Wuzeer 
 brings no men with him but my own. My son prevented those he 
 brought from coming on, and they returned to Nuldroog from 
 Almella. None of his party here dare stir. Yet, if there be any 
 movement, send for Afzool Khan and his son Fazil ; they are my 
 bitter enemies, but they are true to thee. Nay more, the Wuzeer's 
 son is not with his father in this matter, and is true to thee, 
 
224 TABA : 
 
 O King, because of tlie yonng Fazil. And now I go. Send me 
 beyond the gate, for I must not depart as I came." 
 
 "I am ready to go," said the secretary. " They were marvelling 
 at thy sudden appearance. How was it ? " 
 
 *' I may tell thee some time or other," returned Pahar Singh, 
 smiling ; " but come, it is almost day. Yet, ere I depart, my lord, I 
 would kiss thy feet. The reverence I once paid thy father, the 
 noble Sultan Mahmood, I would pay to thee." And so saying, he 
 prostrated himself, embracing the King's feet, and kissing them 
 respectfully. 
 
 "Would thou wert a true believer, and thou wouldst be as a 
 brother. O, that I could reward thee adequately," said the King, 
 with much emotion. 
 
 "I am better as I am — free," returned Pahar Singh. "When I 
 have earned reward, Adil Khan, I may ask it if I live ; and if I die, 
 remember there was one true heart among thy people, and protect 
 my Gopal — my son. Let us not speak of reward ; there is nothing 
 now between us but true faith, as thou art witness, O Meerza, and 
 that faith was never yet given for gold." 
 
 So saying, he turned and passed rapidly through the curtain, 
 followed by the secretary. 
 
 Was there any doubt in the young King's mind now ? None; all 
 was clear. There was no thought of mercy — none of receding from 
 determination. There could be no question of Pahar Singh's story, 
 else why had he, outlaw and robber as he was, trusted himself in 
 the very palace ? There was no appearance about that strange man 
 which could lead to a suspicion of deceit, and his grim devotion in 
 this emergency affected the King deeply. Even if Pahar Singh 
 failed, the course was clear. The Wuzeer must be confronted with 
 the silent witnesses of his treachery ; and in Af zool Khan and a score 
 of other trusty adherents, the King felt he had ample protection. 
 
 'No ; it was no deception. After a short interval of silence, the 
 Eakeer's cry, " Ulla dilaya to leonga! " again arose more sonorously, 
 more confidently than before, and the King, stepping out on the 
 terrace, listened, speculating how far the man might be gone on his 
 deadly errand, and what would come of it, so absorbedly, that the 
 secretary's footsteps, as he ascended the stair, were not heard, and 
 the King started as he spoke once more. 
 
 " He is gone, my lord, on his work. I saw him pass beyond the 
 gate." 
 
 " Did he say aught ? " 
 
 "[N'othing — he did not speak again. As he passed out of the 
 court he shouted his cry, and continued it, walking rapidly till he 
 was beyond the bridge of the ditch. Many of the men saluted him, 
 and some offered alms, but he answered no one, and, still shouting,, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, ' 225 
 
 pressed on so quickly tliat I could hardly follow. When I last saw 
 him, he had turned by the * Goruk Imlee * tree, and was running 
 fast ; and so God speed him ! " 
 
 " Ameen ! " sighed the King. " Thou must not leave me to-day, 
 Anwur Ali. Order a Durbar at noon, and there will we await the 
 end. He or I, Meerza, whichever God wills; but it shall not be said 
 of Adil Khan that he shrank from his fate into his zenana. Go ; 
 sleep there on my cushions for a while ; we both need rest," and by 
 another doorway, the King passed to the inner apartments. 
 
 CHAPTER xxxyn. 
 
 The day wore on ; and it may be imagined that the anxieties of the 
 lady Lurlee and the fair Zyna were not diminished by the continued 
 absence of the Khan and his son. As the former had left his wife, 
 he had requested her to have a " kicheri " of a particular kind, with 
 kabobs, prepared for him when he arrived. " He should be hungry," 
 he said, " after his ride so early, and Fazil too. It was a soldier's 
 dish, and would put him in mind of old days in the field, and — 
 Lurlee could dress it so capitally." "We may remember a slight 
 bandying of words between the Khan and his lady before he went 
 out ; and he had ordered this dish as a propitiatory meal at her hands, 
 for he knew by experience that the result would be satisfactory : the 
 little acerbity would disappear, and the planets, perhaps, would be 
 forgotten. 
 
 Nothing could have been devised more soothing to the lady 
 Lurlee's temper — nothing more certain of dispelling any clouds of 
 dissatisfaction or disappointment — than this appeal to her affections 
 through her kitchen. Even in these intellectual days, a similar re- 
 sult is not unfrequently attainable ; proving that the motives and 
 springs of poor human nature, and its tempers, show but little dif- 
 ference at the time of our history and among ourselves ; and did we 
 permit ourselves to moralize after the fashion of the day, we might 
 possibly deliver a pretty lecture upon the subject. 
 
 But — and we may as well avow it once for all — we feel ourselves 
 bound to relate our story without any moralizing digressions what- 
 ever, further than what may form part of its action ; and therefore 
 we will not follow the changes of the lady's mind, from its first ex- 
 pectant and interested condition after the mixing of the materials by 
 her own fair hands (for on such occasions she suffered no one to 
 interfere), to the setting them on the fire to be done exactly as her 
 lord wished. With the Khan's loving order, had come a flood of 
 pleasant memories to her — of old camp days, hard fights too, in which 
 
226 TABA : 
 
 lier lord — safe, generally victorious, and restored to her prayers — 
 found his wife busy with some favourite dish ; and they loved each 
 other, in a homely fashion, better for the cooking and the eating of it. 
 
 Now, as the lady sat over her private brazier, on which were her 
 own silver cooking- vessels, the Khan's special gift, she told Zyna of 
 many an old time and scene — of many a narrow escape — many a 
 rough march which she had shared with the old soldier, and done her 
 part in binding up his wounds if he were hurt, or cooking for him if 
 he were hungry. 
 
 *' Your mother was not of our rough Dekhani sort, daughter," she 
 said ; " people tell me she never went out with the army : she was a 
 weak, fragile thing, I have heard, but very beautiful. Peace be with 
 her, for thy father loved her much, and hath never loved me as her. 
 But no children have come, Zyna — no children, that is it," — and the 
 lady sighed, and perhaps tears gathered in her eyes, for she wiped 
 them hastily with the corner of her muslin scarf. *' Well, it is Grod's 
 will, daughter; and though I could never understand it properly, 
 there was something wrong in the horoscope which they cast when 
 I was betrothed. You see, Zyna, my planet was then Mars, which 
 represented water — no, it was fire ; — no, that's a male planet, and so 
 it must have been Earth. Yes, I think it was — Earth ; and then he 
 was Yenus — no, that could not be either ; it must have been Saturn, 
 and that's for air. So you see, fire and air — ^no, let me see — air and 
 water ? no. What did I tell thee, Zyna ? Was it Earth ? " 
 
 " I do not understand it, mother; how can I tell ? " said Zyna 
 demurely. 
 
 "But you are not Hstening, girl ; ah, wait till your own time comes. 
 I'll warrant you anxious and curious enough to know whether you 
 are fire or earth, or air or water ; and whether he is air, or water, or 
 whatever he may be. Now about myself. You see I was fire ; no 
 lam wrong. 'Humul,' 'Sowr,' 'Jowza ' (Aries, Taurus, Gemini)," 
 continued the lady Lurlee, telling off all the signs of the zodiac, in, 
 Arabic, upon the ends of her fingers, and then the planets in succes- 
 sion, " ' Mars,' ' Venus,' ' Mercury ;' and now look, Zyna, if the house 
 of the Lion is on this middle finger, and the planet Mercury comes to 
 it, you see Mercury is in conjunction with — with the Crab. Did not 
 I say the Crab, child ? Now attend, else I shall lose all my reckon- 
 ing. ' Humul,' ' Sowr ' " 
 
 " Alas, mother, but I do not understand it, and I can never re- 
 member the names of the planets or their houses, — indeed I cannot," 
 said Zyna, piteously. " But ah, mother, look, it is burning ! " 
 
 And so it was. In her astrological involvement, Lurlee Kianum 
 had forgotten the kicheri, which, as the bottom of the pan became 
 too hot, sent up a most unsavoury odour, and brown smoke issued 
 from under the lid. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 227 
 
 " God forgive me my neglect, daughter," exclaimed the ladj, 
 sorrowfully, as slie examined the pan : " it is surely quite spoiled, and 
 thy father is so particular. The least idea of burnt kicheri is enough 
 to set him mad, and I could not look at him for a day or more. And 
 he will be expecting this to be all ready. " Protection of the Pro- 
 phet ! " exclaimed the lady suddenly, " there he is. What shall I 
 do ?— what shall I do ? '^ 
 
 That which had startled Lurlee was the arrival of the Khan's 
 escort, and the beating of their kettle-drums in the outer court ; and 
 as she listened, and stood up, ladle in hand, expecting her lord's 
 entrance, she was perhaps relieved by the appearance of Goolab who, 
 as the general outdoor scout, brought tidings from the courtyard of 
 occurrences of all kinds. 
 
 " They are not coming, lady," said the nurse. " They are gone to 
 the Kotwal's, and will stay there. That's the news brought by Peer 
 Khan, and a host of them. And there's Bulwunt Rao as good as 
 dead ; and he's to be put into the private apartments, and the King's 
 doctor is to be sent for ; and I must go and see to a bed for him, and 
 a soft mattress, and pillows and sheets ; and then they'll all be spoilt 
 with his blood. His blood, indeed ! " 
 
 *'A blister on thy tongue, O prating woman!" cried Lurlee. 
 " My lord taken to the Kotwal's ? My lord ! O Zyna ! girl, what 
 is the world come to ? Thy father taken to that man of blood, 
 Jehandar Beg ; and those cowards, the Paigah, have come here with- 
 out him ? O girl — what is it ? speak, hast thou no sense ? " 
 
 Indeed, Zyna had very little ; the mention of that dreaded name, 
 the certainty that if her father could have returned he would, and 
 the fact of Bulwunt Rao being dangerously wounded, all combined 
 to terrify, and Lurlee herself was no calmer. 
 
 "Was there no message, Goolab ? " asked Zyna. 
 
 " O yes ; that the Khan remains at the Kotwal's, and will eat his 
 breakfast there. He has business, and will stay. That is all, and 
 that Meah Sahib is well." 
 
 " That is all ! " exclaimed Lurlee. " That is all ! To have my 
 lord in the Kotwallee, and that dish of kicheri dressed in vain ! O 
 woman of little grace that I am ! why did I deserve this ? what have 
 I done ? what have I done ? " 
 
 " But it was spoiled, mother," said Zyna innocently ; " do not care 
 about it. Only thank God they are safe. O, I vow a Fateha " 
 
 "Not care, child? and would it not have been the saine had it 
 been, as it was, dressed like food for the Peris ? would it not have 
 been the same ? Would he have come to eat it ? he, thy father ? 
 Why order it ? why affront me by leaving it here to be spoiled ? why 
 did he not come long ago ? This is not as it used to be of old. O, 
 Afzool Khan ! am I less than dirt in thine eyes ? am I — I — I " 
 
228 TAB A : 
 
 Now, the ladj Lurlee, like all other Mahomedan ladies, only men- 
 tioned her husband's name on very solemn occasions, or when 
 excitement got the better of discretion ; and here was an instance of 
 it. She sat down upon the stool before her brazier, and, after rock- 
 ing herself to and fro for a while, burst into an nncontrollable fit of 
 sobbing. It was difficult to say, perhaps, what had most particularly 
 affected her ; but undoubtedly the burning of the kicheri was at the 
 bottom of all. It had been so good. Then she knew how his face 
 would have expanded under its influence as he ate ; it would have 
 reminded him of some old scene, whose history would have come out 
 between the mouthfuls — he might even have caressed her. Ah, all 
 was now gone — her trouble, her expectation of a loving greeting, all 
 gone : and the sense of neglect and indifference under which she 
 habitually existed, had for the time taken its place. But gradually 
 the sobbing was soothed, and Lurlee, laying her head against Zyna's 
 bosom, seemed lost in thought. 
 
 " There must be unfavourable conjunctions among the planets to- 
 day, depend upon it, daughter," she said at length, rousing herself, 
 and drying her eyes, " else all this would not have happened. Now, 
 let me look steadily into it : perhaps we may learn something for our 
 guidance." 
 
 " Look ! " continued the lady after a pause, and a brief examina- 
 tion of an astrological table, which she usually carried about herj 
 " look here. Ah, graceless and unfortunate that I am, I should have 
 foreseen all that has happened, and he should never have gone out at 
 all. Why, here is Saturn in the ascendant till the first watch of the day, 
 and then follows the Sun, and that's what spoilt my cooking. Let 
 me see — Aries, Taurus, Gremini, Cancer," she continued, counting 
 the signs of the zodiac, as before, on her fingers, " Aries, Taurus — 
 why, God be merciful ! here follows Mars, and he's an executioner — 
 and they are in the Kotwallee — the Prophet's mercy be on them ! 
 Yet, stay. Mars will last for only three hours ; then comes, let me 
 see — Mars, Jupiter, Mercury, Moon — no, Yenus, Jupiter, Moon. Yes, 
 I am right now, girl. That means messenger, and Yenus is propitious. 
 Ah, yes, don't you see it all, Zyna ? Don't you understand ? Look, 
 first the Moon, that's we ourselves, as messengers ; and then Yenus 
 will save them, if we can get past Mars. Of course it is quite plain. 
 Don't you see ? " 
 
 "Alas, no, mother! I do not," said Zyna, innocently. "I see 
 figures and numbers, and angles and signs, but it is hopeless to ask 
 ' me about them. You are a wise woman, and this is a marvellous 
 science. Surely, and please God, you are right." 
 
 " O, I see -exactly what to do ; and it is well I can pick out a path 
 among these mysteries," cried Lurlee, brightening, ''or we had all 
 been lost long ago. But we will eat first ; I am sure some of the 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 229 
 
 kicheri is good, and at any rate tliere are tlie kabobs, and Jameela 
 will have bread. Come and eat, daughter, it will support thee ; come, 
 we have much to do ere noon. I see now, and when thou hast eaten I 
 will tell thee. Jameela! O Jameela! " she cried to the cook, who, when 
 her mistress came to usurp her functions, discreetly kept out of the 
 way. ^'Jameela, bring some bread and some pickle ; we must eat now.'* 
 
 "But you have the kicheri," said the dame. *' Surely it is not 
 burnt, "she continued, sniffing into the pan with a cook's experienced 
 nose. 
 
 *' Begone, graceless ! " cried Lurlee, who well knew the old woman 
 was rejoicing in her heart over her discomfiture ; " begone and get 
 the bread." 
 
 " There is none but the men's bread, and it is coarse enough, for 
 the meal was not sifted," returned Jameela. *' When you take to 
 cooking, of course I am not expected to be mindful of other light 
 bread, and such things ; but " 
 
 "Begone, and do as you are bid," cried her mistress, sharply. A 
 look from Zyna also, deprecating further discussion, was understood 
 at once by the old dame. 
 
 " I will bring the best of it, Khanum," she said, " and there is 
 some quite hot ; but I can bake a few of your own ' phoolkas,' if you 
 like ; they will be good with the kabobs .... which seem savoury," 
 she continued, craning over to look into the pot on the fire, and 
 sniffilng into it. 
 
 " Where is Goolab ? Ah yes, do so, Jameela, and bring them 
 quickly," replied her mistress ; " thou art a jewel." 
 
 " I will send her, lady," said the cook, departing ; " and I would 
 bring the men's bread, only it is not fit for the likes of ye." 
 
 " N'ow, what is to be done ? " asked Zyna. " O mother, thou 
 seemest to understand everything, and art confident, and I am dis- 
 tracted with apprehension. my father ! O my brother ! God keep 
 you safe. I vow lights at Peer Sahib's tomb, and to feed a hundred 
 Fakeers there to-morrow, if they be safe I " 
 
 "We musfc go to the palace, and inquire why thy father is detained," 
 replied Lurlee decisively. "Ah, Goolab, where wert thou ? But never 
 mind," she continued, as the dame entered. "Lay out clothes for 
 us ; we must go to the palace ; and bid some one go and say we pray 
 to see the Begum Sahiba, and order the palankeens and an escort to 
 be ready. Inshalla! daughter, we will see what this evil-minded 
 and base-born Kotwal can do." 
 
 "And the jewels, Khanum ? " asked Goolab. 
 
 " Ah ! I had forgotten. Well, a few." 
 
 " No, mother, no ! " cried Zyna, " not so. With our hearts heavy 
 and sad, it surely is no time to put on jewels. Let us rather go with 
 sober garments, and prostrate ourselves before the Peer's shrine on 
 our way." 
 
230 TABA 
 
 " I tell tliee tlie Peer cannot help us," returned tlie dame tartly; 
 " it is the stars and the Begum. When they are safe, then do thy 
 Fateha if thou wilt. Come here, eat, for we have much to do. Ah I 
 Jameela-bee ; " for Lurlee always added the respectful addition of 
 hee, for lady, when she was in good humour, to her cook, who now 
 entered with a tray of hot bread and delicate phoolkas, and a white 
 cloth over her arm : " thou hast been quick, friend." 
 
 It must be confessed that the lady Lurlee's appetite, sharpened per- 
 haps by her unusual fast and the process of her own cookery, did ample 
 justice to the meal. Her confidence in the stars sustained her far 
 better than Zyna's faith in her saint — that is, if one might judge by 
 the resolute and satisfied features of the elder face as it bent over its 
 plate, eating heartily, and the distressed, anxious, and tearful ex- 
 pression of the younger, endeavouring almost vainly to eat at all. It 
 was of no avail that Lurlee encouraged her daughter, and even picked 
 out tempting morsels from the kabobs, and set them before her, with 
 the hottest of the phoolkas, as they were sent in short relays from 
 the kitchen. 
 
 "Ah, daughter ! he would have enjoyed this," said Lurlee, as she 
 washed her hands over the ewer brought her at the conclusion of the 
 meal, and sighed in a manner which plainly signified her regret not 
 to be able to eat more. " Yes, the kabob was good, but thou hast 
 scarcely tasted it ; a trifle more pepper would have been better, per- 
 haps ; yet it was good. And now, girl, I am ready to face the 
 Kotwal or the Begum, or — the peace of God be on him — Adil Shah 
 himself. Inshalla ! we will see who dares to detain my lord when I,. 
 Lurlee Khanum, have cooked his breakfast." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Enough had transpired in the examination of Afzool Khan and his^ 
 son, to satisfy Jehandar Beg that the young man and his father had 
 attained knowledge of some secret relating to the conspiracies in 
 progress, which they were reserving to tell the King; and we should 
 be doing that very astute officer injustice, if we did not at once admit 
 that he believed the secret known to them, or at least to Fazil, con- 
 cerned the Wuzeer very deeply. Why the King's secretary had been 
 mentioned he could not imagine. Did he know it also ? Certainly 
 it was important to find out everything that could be discovered, 
 previous to the Wuzeer's arrival ; and he purposed himself to go to 
 his house, and have speech of him, before he should attend the Durbar, 
 and appear before the King to inform him of the detention of 
 Afzool Khan and his son, and of the events connected with them. 
 
A MA HE ATT A TALE. 231 
 
 But Jehandar Beg, as police minister of that large city, liad other 
 sources of information ; and whatever occurred at night was reported 
 to him by his spies before the true business of the day commenced. 
 Had not Afzool Khan come direct to the court, it is most probable 
 that Jehandar Beg would have heard some account of Fazil Khan's 
 night adventure before he appeared at all. As it was, there had been, 
 a reversion of events : and we must now follow the magistrate briefly, 
 in his reception of the spies whom he summoned, directly the door 
 of the court had closed upon the Khan and his son. 
 
 The room in which these persons were received, was one which 
 could be entered from the large hall of audience : but there was a 
 door also by the back passage which led from a street behind, and 
 persons could come and go unobserved. There was nothing in this 
 chamber — which indeed was very small — but a large pillow and a 
 carpet, on which the Kotwal's sword- dagger, a heavy-bladed Persian 
 or Afghan knife, and writing materials, were placed. As he sat down 
 and clapped his hands, a door opposite was opened by a slave with- 
 out, and a Brahmun, as was evident by his dress and the caste marks 
 on his forehead, was admitted. 
 
 *'Be seated," said Jehandar Beg. "Have you anything forme 
 to-day. Pundit ? " - 
 
 " Yes," answered the Brahmun, taking a pair of spectacles from a 
 fold in his turban, and placing them across his nose, and then pro- 
 ducing some papers from a pocket within his dress ; " these have 
 just arrived by a special messenger from Moro Trimmul at Tool- 
 japoor;" and he handed to the Kotwal several letters sealed with 
 the private Mahratta seal of Sivaji Bhoslay, which Jehandar Beg 
 examined closely ; then, apparently satisfied, he made a Persian 
 memorandum on the corner of each, with the date of receipt, very 
 methodically, and put them into the side-pocket of his robe. 
 
 "And," continued the Brahmun, looking over his letter as the 
 Kotwal had finished, " Moro Trimmul writes that his sister has been 
 married to a Shastree at Tooljapoor, and that he has not been idle ; 
 but he cannot induce Pahar Singh to visit him or accept terms, and 
 he is afraid to go to Itga himself ; so it were better your worship 
 advised our master to treat with him." 
 
 " Very good ; I will mention it," returned the Kotwal ; " but has 
 Moro Trimmul been to Nuldroog to see the Wuzeer ? It is not far." 
 
 " No, my lord ; he was afraid to go unless a ' Kowl * were sent to 
 him." 
 
 "Curious that, O Pundit!" added Jehdndar Beg, with a sneer; 
 "he is not scrupulous in general, I think." 
 
 "No, not in general, perhaps," replied the man ; "but in this case 
 he is — he is — not sure." 
 
 " Not sure ? Well, I suppose he is certain of my being able to ap- 
 prehend him, and make him so, on the Goruk Imlee tree." 
 
232 TABA : 
 
 " My lord is all-powerful ; but Moro is careful — as much so as 
 Sivaji Blidslay or Tannajee Maloosray,'* returned the Pundit, dryly. 
 
 " Ah yes ; no doubt, friend ; he thinks himself so," replied Jehan- 
 dar Beg, with a sneer; "but what of Tannajee himself? I heard 
 just now that he is here, and was seen last night." 
 
 " Tannajee is everywhere," returned the man, smiling, "or some 
 one else for him. If my lord requires him, he may be found at 
 Wye : he would not trust himself in Beejapoor, I think ; yet " 
 
 *^ Why not, Pundit?" 
 
 " My lord can best answer that. Like Moro Trimmul, he is better 
 at a distance till the time comes. He does not like ' those trees ' of 
 my lord's." 
 
 For once the Kotwal was at fault. It wss necessary to gain over 
 the Mahratta interest, else the intrigue with the Emperor were 
 abortive ; but it was clear none of the Mahratta agents would trust 
 the Wuzeer's party, without more assurance of its success than at 
 present appeared likely ; and the Kotwal felt this keenly. He might 
 threaten, imprison, or even torture, but he could not penetrate beyond 
 the surface. 
 
 " Tannajee was in the kullal's bazar last night," said Jehandar 
 Beg, after a pause, "and had a narrow escape. He ought not to 
 place himself in such peril." 
 
 " Indeed ! I have said before there are Maloosrays everywhere," 
 returned the Brahmun dryly ; "I know what has been told you, 
 my lord ; but," he added, smiling, " I suppose you don't believe it." . 
 
 " That is as may be proved hereafter. We shall know more by- I 
 and-by — to-day, perhaps," replied Jehandar Beg. 
 
 The man shrugged his shoulders. " Does my lord wish me to 
 stay ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not particularly. The master comes this afternoon, and may 
 wish to see you." 
 
 " Certainly, I will attend ; but about Maloosray ? If he comes I 
 vrill tell you," continued the Pundit, laughing; "but do not listen, 
 my lord, to idle stories ; Maloosray is everywhere, and in that is his 
 safety. May I go ? " 
 
 " Yes, go ;" and the man, making a respectful salute, departed. 
 
 The Pundit was a clever agent, deeply devoted, like all his 
 countrymen, to the Mahratta interest, apparently serving the Wuzeer's 
 ^ party through Jehandar Beg, yet at the same time revealing only 
 what was advisable to be known, and gaining all the information he 
 could. He had already seen Maloosray, and went direct to Jehandar 
 Beg, on purpose to mislead him, in which he perfectly succeeded. 
 
 The Kotwal sat and mused a while on what had been told him. 
 He believed the Brahmun about Maloosray. " And Pahar Singh 
 would not join them ? That is all he knows," said Jehandar Beg 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 233 
 
 to himself. "My lord writes that he is sure of the robber, and 
 brings some of his men with him. What can that be for?" He 
 felt as though he had not been quite trusted ; still the Wuzeer was 
 coming that day, and would tell all. He could not perhaps write. 
 
 So another spy was admitted, evidently one of the royal eunuchs. 
 He sat down where the Brahmun had been seated, and for a time 
 was silent. 
 
 "Well," said JehandarBeg, "is thy brain heavy with drink, Mah- 
 mood, or with secrets ? Or is there bad news ? Why art thou silent ? " 
 
 " Good or bad, I know not, my lord," replied the man ; " but it is 
 at least curious, and- you may understand it. I do not." 
 
 "Indeed! — say on, friend," returned the Kotwal, settling himself 
 into an attitude of attention. 
 
 " My lord the secretary," said the man calmly, "was out late last 
 night. He went to a temple somewhere, and there was another with 
 him. He then returned to the palace, and the Peer Zadah and 
 I^eelkunt Rai were sent for and admitted. They sat till nearly dawn, 
 when a Fakeer came, and was taken up to the Palace of the Seven 
 Stories by the secretary." 
 
 Jehandar Beg took his beard in his hand, rubbed and stroked it, 
 and mused for several minutes. " Anything more ? " he asked. 
 
 " Some money was taken," added the man. " That is all I know, 
 except that a Durbar is ordered after the mid- day prayer." 
 
 These tidings, strange as they seemed to be, troubled Jehandar 
 Beg sorely. He had not been told of the Durbar. What could have 
 happened ? " Thou must go and find out who was with the secretary,'* 
 he said. 
 
 " If I might speak," said the spy timidly, looking about him — " I 
 think it was — " and he advanced and whispered in the Kotwal's ear 
 —"the King himself," 
 
 " The King ? Impossible ; he never left the palace," returned the 
 Kotwal, aloud. " I know that he did not. The King ? " 
 
 "My lord cannot be mistaken," repUed the spy, deferentially. 
 "Nevertheless, I heard it " 
 
 " Quite impossible ! He could not have gone without my knowing 
 of it, Mahmood ; nor dare he venture out without being attended. 
 Who were with the secretary ? " 
 
 "Bundagee Sahib, and five others only; and the man who went 
 with the secretary entered the private apartments with him when 
 they returned. This I saw, for I was watching." 
 
 " Thou shouldst have gone into the court with them," said the 
 Kotwal. " What neglect is this ? " 
 
 "I was going, but the guard stopped me," said the spy, as if 
 ashamed. " They knew me, and turned me out of the fort-gate. 
 What CO aid I do ? Since the last time I was drunk, they will not 
 admit me.'* 
 
234 TABA 
 
 "AndtheFakeer?" 
 
 " I heard him calling inside, * Ulla dilaya to leonga •/ and when he 
 got outside he ran, still shouting, towards the Goruk Imlee trees, and 
 I lost sight of him." 
 
 " Then who told you he went into the palace ?" 
 
 " O, the men on guard said one of the ladies had seen demons^ 
 and that the Syn had been sent for, to say incantations over her." 
 
 "Very likely, ' ' said the Kotwal, calmly. "Now go and bring me the 
 news I want. Was it the King who went with the Meerza, or his own 
 son? Find this out for me, and return directly." 
 
 "Jo hookum!" returned the spy, "your slave will do his best," 
 and he departed. 
 
 We need not follow Jehandar Beg in his other private audiences* 
 He had many spies over many people. 
 
 If he had not been delayed by these communications and his own 
 meditations upon them, and had gone to his prisoners at once, it is 
 possible, perhaps, that the Khan and his son might have been taken 
 by surprise ; but they had been warned, and were prepared for him. 
 
 The lad Ashruf, who has been already mentioned, had been 
 present during the first examination. No one noticed him ; but he 
 was shrewd and observant. He had asked his father whether he 
 should run and bring down the whole force of Afzool Khan's Paigah 
 to rescue the Khan; and perhaps the boy would have enjoyed a share 
 in the melee which would undoubtedly have followed ; but his father, 
 while checking him angrily for the thought, bid him be on the watch, 
 and should there be any danger, to give information of it. So the 
 lad had remained in the Kucheri, and was not noticed among the 
 soldiers who lounged about there. As the Kotwal entered his private 
 room, and was known to be generally occupied for some time, the 
 various clerks and scribes took advantage of his absence, and had 
 for the most part gone out; a few only remained, who seemed 
 absorbed in their business. So, gradually, the lad edged himself 
 close to the private door, which, as sometimes happens in Indian 
 houses, did not close completely, on account of the hinges being out- 
 side the door-post. The lad could not see, but he could hear if he 
 placed his ear, carelessly, to all appearance, against the place where 
 the door joined the door-frame, and in this attitude he was not dis- 
 turbed. Being questioned by a soldier, he answered lazily, that he 
 was ordered to wait for his father's return ; and apparently was 
 settling quietly to sleep, leaning against the wall. 
 
 Ashruf had no idea at first of the results of the position in which 
 he had placed himself; but a few words awakened his attention 
 perfectly. To hear better also, he feigned to be sleepy, drew a part 
 of his scarf over his face, and lay down ; and by this means he could 
 see under the door sufficiently to observe who came. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 235 
 
 The Bralimiin's communication did not interest him much ; but 
 as soon as the eunuch was seated, whom he knew to be in disgrace 
 for habitual intemperance, he felt sure that his tidings would relate 
 to the palace, and he listened more carefully than ever. Yerj little 
 escaped him. He could not hear the eunuch's whisper, but the 
 Kotwal had repeated the name of the King aloud — that was enough. 
 It was necessary, at least, that the young Khan should know of it, 
 and directly the eunuch had been dismissed, the lad got up and 
 looked about. 
 
 It is frequently the case that, in houses of one floor only, like this, 
 a staircase leads from the principal room to the roof ; and in the 
 corner, not far from the door we have mentioned, was one of this 
 description. Ashruf watched his opportunity, and when no one was 
 observing him, slipped gently behind the wall at the entrance of the 
 steps, and ascended them quickly. He had remarked the direction 
 of the court where Afzool Khan and his son were detained, and, 
 creeping on his hands and knees to the edge of the terrace, looked 
 into it. 
 
 At first he did not see them, because they were sitting upon the 
 same side under one of the arches ; but a soft cry of " Huzrut ! 
 Huzrut!" ("My prince! my prince!") in a voice very like a 
 woman's, and a small piece of plaster thrown into the court, induced 
 Fazil to get up and attend to the signal, whatever it might be. 
 Looking up, he saw the lad's face peeping through an aperture in 
 the open stucco-work of the parapet, and in a few moments had heard 
 what he had to tell. It was important, because putting them on 
 their guard against further questioning, which could only have on© 
 object, their continued detention ; and thoughtful, because proving 
 a faithful interest, which Fazil trusted to reward. It confirmed also, 
 suspicions of the connection between the Wuzeer and the Kotwal. 
 
 "Can I do anything more, noble sir ? " asked the boy, when his 
 little story was done; "be quick, else I may be seen and flogged." 
 
 "Yes, two things," replied Fazil ; " first, run to Kowas Khan, the 
 Wuzeer's son ; bid him come to me here well attended, but with no 
 appearance of force; and then go to the Lurlee Khanum, at our 
 house, with those papers " — and he threw what he had to him — 
 "and tell her we shall not be at home early, as we have to attend the 
 King's Durbar, and that we are well. She is to keep the papers till 
 we come." 
 
 They saw the boy's face disappear, and heard him craw^ling back 
 over the terrace. Fortunately he had not been observed, and he 
 gained the bottom of the steps safely, and passed out among the 
 soldiers, unchallenged, on his double mission. 
 
 But while he is running at a steady, unvarying trot, not staying 
 even to take breath, we must follow what the Kotwal had to say to 
 
236 TAEA 
 
 the old Khan and his son, which may be of importance in the eluci- 
 dation of this history. 
 
 " Fear not, my father," said Fazil to him, as voices were heard at 
 the door, "fear not, all will be well. The boy will do as he was told ; 
 and without alarm or force of any kind we shall be soon free. But 
 speak not, let me talk ; you are to know nothing, but that you went 
 to fetch me when I sent for you last night." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 *' Lady," said Goolab, again entering suddenly, "there is a boy in the 
 court who says he must have instant speech of you. He will tell no 
 one what he has to say, except that he has come from the master." 
 
 " A boy, Goolab ? how old is he ? can I see him ? Quick, 
 woman, my veil — anything to cover me," exclaimed Lurlee. 
 
 " Take this, mother," said Zyna, unfastening her scarf ; " what 
 need of concealment with a boy ? I will go aside. Admit him, 
 Goolab ; he may have news of them." 
 
 The lad entered and prostrated himself before the Khanum. 
 "Take these papers," he said. "My lord the Khan hath sent them; 
 you are to keep them, and no one is to see them. He and his son 
 are well and safe, and will go to the King in the afternoon." 
 
 " Prophet of God, what is this ? " cried Lurlee. " Mahratta, too ? 
 Well, no one shall take them from me ;" and, so saying, she stuffed 
 them into that most convenient and unapproachable of all lady's 
 hiding-places, her bodice. * 
 
 " I am going, lady," said the lad, who had observed the action ; 
 " they are safe with thee now." 
 
 " Not before thou hast eaten, boy. There is some kicheri ready " 
 — he will not mind its being burnt, she thought — "thou must be 
 hungry." 
 
 Ashruf was, to say the truth, hungry enough; but he resisted 
 temptation. "No, lady, let me go," he said; " I have another errand 
 for my lord. May your house prosper." 
 
 " Thou art right," returned Lurlee, as he saluted her and departed. 
 ** Go ; God speed thee ; thou art a good lad. And now, Zyna, let us 
 attire ourselves in fitting garments, and go to the palace, for time 
 presses, and it is already past noon." 
 
 This, however, promised to be no easy task ; and if Lurlee Khanum 
 had had time to consult her tables in a fitting manner, the colour 
 and particular kind of garment which would suit that period of the 
 day, and in which the wearer would be lucky or unlucky, must have 
 been decided. Goolab, too, and the other women, to whom the idea 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. ^37 
 
 of tlie ladies going to tlie palace could bo no other than an occasion 
 for the display of the utmost magnificence, had laid out costly dresses 
 of cloth-of-gold, brocade, muslin, satin ; and a petticoat of gorgeous 
 purple Italian velvet, trimmed with broad silver ribbon, with purple 
 flowers upon it, a recent acquisition to the wardrobe, was especially 
 tempting. 
 
 "Pardon me, Khanum," said Kurreem-bee, the "Moghulanee,'' or 
 household dressmaker and mistress of the robes, "but on an occasion 
 of this kind, and when a petition is to be made, we should know 
 something of the mood her highness the Begum is in, and the gar- 
 ments should agree with it. Yellow or red, with gold or silver, 
 might excite bile — blue or purple would create phlegm ; and when 
 my lady Chand-bee, the wife of Janee Sahib Dagtoray, went to 
 visit " 
 
 " Kow, in the Prophet's name, cease, Kurreem-bee ! " cried Lurlee, 
 interrupting her ; "are we not in haste? and thou standest prating 
 about Chand-bee, who never could dress herself except like a pubhc 
 dancing- girl. Peace, I say. Give me the green satin petticoat laced 
 with silver, and the plain white scarf with gold flowers ; these, with 
 a shawl, will be enough." 
 
 Meanwhile Goolab and some other women- servants had made their 
 preparations. The old dame was aware that her red satin petticoat, 
 one of the Khanum's presents, would be mnch in her way, flapping 
 about her legs as she ran by the litter; and as the ladies were settling 
 themselves in their seats, she tucked it up, forming it, as it were, 
 into a very efiicient pair of baggy breeches, reaching to her knees, 
 which could be shaken out when she arrived at the palace : and at 
 the same time tied her clean muslin scarf about her waist and 
 shoulders, in such a manner as to display a considerable amount of 
 rotundity in directions otherwise perhaps not remarkable. 
 
 "Ah, you may laugh, impudence," she cried, aiming a blow at a 
 fine sturdy lad, who, with others bearing spears, had just entered the 
 court — " you may laugh, but that's the way to run ;" and she kicked 
 out first one leg, then the other, by way of proving whether the petti- 
 coat arrangements were firm. " I have run ten coss a-day when my 
 lord was in the field, and carried my lady's hooka into the bargain. 
 Peace, impudent knaves ! " she continued to the men, as the laugh 
 against her became more general when the bearers entered. " Take 
 up the palankeen ahd let us go. Bismilla ! " 
 
 There was no time for further colloquy, for the men, who had been 
 turned out of the court while the ladies took their seats, now took 
 up the palankeens : and the band of spearmen, arranging themselves 
 in front, were joined in the outer court by a strong body of the 
 Khan's horsemen, and the little procession quickly traversed the city, 
 and arrived at its destination. There the litters, being carried into 
 
238 . TABA : 
 
 the women's court of tlie Palace of tlie Seven Stories, were set down 
 at tlie foot of the stairs leading to the apartments in which the King 
 had held his night council. 
 
 Goolab, having shaken out her petticoat, and put into her ears and 
 about her neck, the gold ornaments she carried with her, appeared 
 once more in her proper character : and received the salutations of 
 the royal Mamas, who were to conduct the ladies to the chamber of 
 audience. 
 
 "We have before described this apartment ; and the broad daylight, 
 which poured through the now open casements, fully displayed its 
 richness and beauty. Soft quilted cloths had been laid over the floor, 
 and white muslin sheets tacked to them, covered the whole. Large 
 pillows had been placed round the walls ; and in the deep bays and 
 oriel windows, numerous groups of ladies and their children were 
 sitting conversing together merrily, and spread, as it were, upon 
 every available space except the centre, which was kept clear. 
 
 Lurlee Khanum was not prepared for the display of rich dresses 
 which had to be encountered, but assured by the kind tones in which 
 she was welcomed by the Queen, sailed up to her with measured 
 steps, causing her ample satin garment to swing in heavy folds from 
 left to right, and back again, after the most impressive and courtly 
 fashion. 
 
 Fyz-ool-JSTissa, the King's wife, was as yet a girl, not, indeed, much 
 older than Zyna herself. She could not be called beautiful, but there 
 was a frank pleasant expression in her fair countenance which was 
 irresistibly pleasing. The delicate hands and arms, sparkling with 
 jewels, were all that could be seen of her person, buried as it was 
 amidst the cloud of drapery which shrouded her as she sat on the 
 King's seat in the oriel, and seemed an earnest of its grace ; as also, 
 indeed, her small graceful head and neck, which were loaded with 
 costly pearl ornaments. 
 
 *' The wife and daughter of the noble Afzool Khan are always 
 welcome," said the Begum, in her low sweet voice. " Come and sit 
 here by me ; 'tis a fair sight to see all the gallant people assembling, 
 and they say it will be a great Durbar. And this is Zyna-bee ? AJb, 
 
 girl, they have often told me thou wert fair, but Well, I had 
 
 better not say it. Come here, child, I am thy mother too ; they tell 
 me I have many children," she said, laughing. " O, so many ! " 
 
 "May God fill your lap with them, may they climb about you, 
 and may you live a hundred years to see them ! " said Lurlee, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "And here is one already," said the Begum, seating Zyna beside 
 
 her. "Ah, girl, we will have such a marriage for thee soon " 
 
 As Zyna bowed down blushingly, Lurlee seized the opportunity of 
 pressing her suit. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 239 
 
 " Lady," she said, putting up her hands in a respectful attitude, 
 
 ^' thine ear for a moment. I had a petition " 
 
 *' Ah, Khanum! " returned Fyz-ool-Nissa, with a look of disappoint- 
 ment ; '' I had marked this day for rejoicing ; for the heavy cloud 
 which has hung over my head so long is gone, and thou hast brought 
 m.e a petition, and I hate them. I never get matters arranged as I 
 
 like, and am vexed • To-morrow, lady ? " 
 
 " Only for my husband would I speak," replied Lurlee, firmly. 
 " He and his son were decoyed to the Kotwallee early to-day, and 
 they cannot get to the King. It must not be that Afzool Khan is 
 
 counted a laggard. lady ! " and here Lurlee, unable to contain 
 
 herself longer, burst into tears. 
 
 Fyz-ool-Mssa looked to Zyna, and saw a confirmation of Lurlee's 
 tale in the face — in those great eyes brimful of tears, and quivering lips. 
 "Hush! " said the Begum, "this must not be known. O that 
 there were any one to write ! " 
 
 "I — I can write," said Zyna, timidly. 
 
 " Thou, girl ? well done ! Now," she continued, as an attendant 
 brought a writing-case, "write what thou wilt, but be quick." 
 It was soon done. A few words, but enough for the purpose. 
 " Canst thou sign it, lady ? " asked Zyna. 
 
 "Yes, child, 'tis all they could ever teach me," replied the Begum, 
 laughing ; " and here is my seal, too. Ah ! thou art a little clerk." 
 
 " Her father makes her write his letters," said Lurlee, apologetic- 
 ally, as the Begum clapped her hands, and an old eunuch, who had 
 been standing at the foot of the room, advanced. 
 
 " This must go to my lord instantly," said the Queen ; " some one 
 thou canst count on must take it, Daood, for me." 
 
 "Myself," he replied; "no other can do this errand. Fear not, 
 lady," he continued earnestly to Lurlee, "thy noble lord hath friends 
 he knows not of, and it is needful he should be in the Durbar to-day. 
 Inshalla ! thou wilt soon see him ? Is any of the Paigah here to-day ? " 
 "Yes," returned Lurlee, joyfully, " more than fifty men; they will 
 be with the troops without." 
 
 " I will return presently," said the man, bowing over his crossed 
 arms ; " and if ye will watch your men ye will see whether the errand 
 be done or not." 
 
 So the ladies sat and looked out. Bright flashed the sun's rays 
 from spear and sword, morion and gauntlet, matchlock and shield, 
 of the troops gathering before the hall where the King sat : while 
 the gay turbans, vests of cloth-of-gold, satins and brocades, glowed 
 in the bright sunlight like a bed of gorgeous flowers. 
 
 " There are ten thousand brave hearts throbbing for my lord! " 
 cried the young Queen, clapping her hands. " Look, lady ! O Alia, 
 such an array of armed men is fearful, yet beautiful ! " 
 
240 TARA : 
 
 " Ameen ! *' said Lnrlee, earnestly. "A tlionsand times ten thou- 
 sand are at his call, if he will only lead them ! Why shonldst thou 
 fear, lady ? I have ridden with my lord in the battle and felt no 
 fear. But look ! a thousand thanks and blessings be upon thee ! 
 Yes, they go, Eaheem Khan and all the spearmen. Dost thou not see 
 them, Zyna ? '' 
 
 ** Yes, to bring my father and Fazil,'' cried Zyna, in her turn 
 clapping her hands exultingly. " Yes, they will repay thee, my 
 queen — my mother; they will repay thee with their lives." 
 
 " Nay, no tears now, girl," said Fyz-ool-Mssa gaily. "Look out 
 over the cavaliers yonder, and wait patiently. Inshalla ! your 
 people will return speedily." 
 
 So they sat, silently now, praying inwardly for their safety, though 
 the time seemed terribly long, as they looked over the gathering 
 masses of men: over the gardens, mosques, and palaces of the 
 nobihty : and over the country beyond, where, in the quivering 
 noonday light, and now fervid heat, the blue distance seemed melting 
 into the sky. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 Jehandae Beg felt that the communications he had heard might 
 have somewhat disarranged his appearance, and he would not for 
 the world be suspected by Af zool Khan of agitation of any kind ; his 
 ample beard must not be disordered, nor a hair of his eyebrows 
 crooked. A glance in a small mirror, which hung in the anteroom, 
 proved that the barber's skill was necessary, and he sent for his own 
 servant. What other hand, indeed, could be allowed to meddle with 
 that glorious beard, or to regulate the orthodox breadth of the mous- 
 tache and eyebrows ? Who understood the proper darkening of the 
 spot in the centre of the forehead, as if it were always being rubbed 
 against the ground in perpetual prayer, like Habeeb Mehtur, the 
 chief of his craft ? and finally, who so admirable a chronicler of all 
 domestic scandal, in which Beejapoor was at least as prolific as other 
 cities of similar size and peculiarity of social morals ? 
 
 So Habeeb, having been summoned, found his master sitting alone 
 where we last left him, reclining against his pillow in the small room 
 before described, and saw, at a glance, that his spirit was troubled. 
 
 Having made his obeisance, which was not acknowledged, or barely 
 so, the barber at once set to work, removing the conical lambskin 
 cap which Jehandar Beg always wore, and subjecting the whole 
 scalp to a series of manipulations which were inexpressibly soothing. 
 How lightly moved the practised fingers along hnes of muscles and 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 241 
 
 nerves ! how carefully was every stray hair put back into its proper 
 place, or deftly eradicated with the sharp tweezers. Then, as the 
 momentous matters of eyebrows, monstache, and beard were severally 
 approached, and where the Kotwal's rough hand had rubbed his 
 chin, pushed up the moustache, or disturbed the eyebrows — till 
 every hair seemed battling with its neighbour or bristling in anger 
 — all was soon reduced to order, and the cap replaced. Jehandar 
 Beg felt a refreshing coolness pervade his head, the nervous excite- 
 ment was removed, and a calmness supervened which he required 
 for what he had to do. 
 
 Yes, a master in his art ! Habeeb had made a masterly perform- 
 ance ; and yet so quickly ! — ^long enough, however, for those much- 
 coveted papers to be taken far from his master's chance of possession 
 to a place of safety. 
 
 '' Shookr, Shookr, Habeeb ! " (Thanks, thanks !), said the Kotwal 
 at length. " Hast thou any news, friend ? " 
 
 What was the barber to say ? News ? yes, plenty ! There was 
 no lack of that, such as his master relished ; but would it be wel« 
 come ? 
 
 '* There was a grand entertainment at the Nawab AUa-ool-Moolk's 
 last night, and some new singers from the Carnatic were there. My 
 lord should hear one of them. She is very lovely," he repHed 
 cautiously. 
 
 *' Except the blessed Mary, and Fathma, and Ayesha — on whose 
 names be peace ! — I wish all women were in the burning pit," said 
 Jehandar Beg savagely, and his hand approached his beard. 
 
 " KLhoda na khasta bashud !" (Grod forbid!), exclaimed Habeeb, 
 staying it. " God forbid my lord should touch what has been done ! 
 Even in that exclamation a hundred hairs have started up. May 
 his slave ask what has discomposed the fountain of justice this 
 morning ? " 
 
 " There was some one ill in the palace last night, and a Fakeer was 
 sent for, who shouted ' Ulla dilaya to leonga.' Who was that man ? 
 and who was ill ? " asked Jehandar Beg, not heeding the question. 
 
 " My lord, no one was ill that I know of. About the Fakeer I 
 will ascertain, if possible," replied the barber. " I can tell my lord one 
 thing, however : the Shah — may his splendour increase — went out, 
 even as the Khaleefa, of honoured memory, of whom we read — 
 Haroun bin-al Rasheed — was in the habit of doing, to see after his 
 subjects for himself, to hear with his own ears ; and, if people say 
 the truth, there is enough for him to hear, if he chose to inquire." 
 
 The men understood each other perfectly, and exchanged glances. 
 
 " People will talk, friend," said the Kotwal ; " but where did he 
 go ? if thou'rt sure he went." 
 
 *' Nay, that is more than your poor slave knows. They say he 
 
242 TABA : 
 
 took tlie young Fazil Khan with, him, or else the Wuzeer's son. 
 Sure he went ? yes, my lord, quite sure," said the man, emphatically. 
 *' I was in the citadel, and saw him go out." 
 
 " Ay, indeed ! Boy's tricks, boy's tricks, Habeeb ; yet that Fazil 
 Khan was accounted a steady youth: but he is in trouble about 
 last night." 
 
 "Ah, master! we have all been like him once," said the barber, 
 chuckling. *' I suppose it was one of the new dancers " 
 
 " Except that we did no murder, friend," returned the K6twal, 
 interrupting him. 
 
 *' Is my lord very particular about a noble slaying a thief, or a 
 night brawler ? " asked the barber. 
 
 '' O no ! and it will be settled. And now you may go, Habeeb — 
 find out who was visited last night ; perhaps ... no matter . . . 
 and thou shalt have thy mouth filled, after our Persian fashion, 
 with gold zecchins and sugar-candy. There are a couple in earnest 
 of more." 
 
 " May the sun of your splendour increase in brightness, master ! " 
 returned the man, taking the money, and retreating backwards till 
 he gained the door. *' I will inquire " 
 
 " And now for this boy and his rough father," said Jehandar Beg, 
 speaking to himself, as the door closed on the barber; *'if they 
 could be gained ? Well, I must see. If not — we cannot allow 
 them to live ; they are too powerful," and he rose and went into the 
 outer hall. 
 
 **And no one has passed here, Jaffur?" said Jehandar Beg to 
 the Nubian slave, who, with some others, watched the door of the 
 court where Afzool Khan was confined. 
 
 ''No one, my lord, except the servants with their meal." 
 
 *' Did they speak to him ? " 
 
 " Not a word, my lord ; I listened carefully." 
 
 '' Have the Khan and his son been speaking to each other ? " 
 
 " Yes, frequently ; but as they have moved to the other side of 
 the court, which is now in shadow, I cannot hear them. My lord 
 is going in? Should we not attend ? They are armed." 
 
 " I am not afraid, Jaffur ; put up thy weapon. Keep the door 
 ajar, but do not enter, and, on your life, let no one listen. Do ye 
 hear, all of ye ? " 
 
 " Jo hookum ! " (as you order), cried all together, dispersing as 
 the Kotwal entered. 
 
 Afzool Khan and his son were sitting, as Jaffur had described, in 
 the opposite corner of the court from the door ; for the sun was 
 now shining with a painful glare of heat into that side by which 
 the K6twal entered, while, opposite, the cool verandah was rendered 
 more refreshing from the shadow of a large champa tree, which fell 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 243 
 
 over tlie building and enclosure where they were. They rose 
 courteously as the K6twal advanced, and; saluting him gravely, yet 
 without any expression of impatience at detention, requested him to 
 be seated. 
 
 It was no part of Jehandar Beg*s policy to attempt to bully. If 
 he could find out what the a&ir of the night had really been, or 
 obtain a clue to the truth of that which had been alleged of the 
 King ; in short, anything which might serve as a guide to action, or 
 as means of warning to the Wuzeer, it would be enough. 
 
 " I trust my honoured guests have been fittingly attended to ? " 
 he asked, as he subsided on his heels at a respectful distance from 
 the old Khan, joining his hands after the most deferential and 
 most elegant of Persian customs. " I trust the repast was served 
 hot. My lords must excuse my absence, and my being taken 
 unawares. Had I expected the honour of their company, then, 
 indeed, Zoolfi car's skill should have been put forth." 
 
 " The kabobs and kicheri were excellent, Meerza Sahib," replied 
 Afzool Khan, politely. " I was to have had the same at my own 
 house J and there were other dishes, too. Yerily, your cook must 
 be a treasure ; there is not such another in the city." 
 
 *'My lord, a poor slave, who followed me from my own dear 
 country, and has remained here with me. Yes, he has a pretty skill 
 in the art, and . . . but you have yet to know what he can do. . . . 
 If I might send him one day " 
 
 " Shookr, shookr ! (thanks), Meerza Sahib. Yes, we will see 
 about it. Inshalla ! inshalla ! " replied the Khan, cheerily, " an 
 excellent idea — and come yourself." 
 
 The Kotwal thought he had made a favourable impression. 
 ^' After all, there was nothing in the murder matter that you need 
 care about, Meah Sahib," he continued blandly, to Fazil Khan. 
 *' Pardon me if I was rude this morning, but when we are at 
 business, you know, there can be no distinction of persons." 
 
 " None," said Fazil, gravely ; " but who was the man found dead ? 
 You said one had been killed." 
 
 " O, only a Kafir Hindu ; some son of a burnt father, who is 
 gone to burn with him," laughed the Kotwal. " I don't know ; the 
 body is not yet claimed. By the way, Meah, it was strange enough 
 that you should have been just in time to save that Lalla." 
 
 " Ah, yes ; what has become of him ? " asked Fazil innocently. 
 "You promised he should be seen to." 
 
 "And I have done as I promised, Meah. Habeeb has dressed the 
 wound, which is but a scratch, and the man has eaten heartily ; 
 perhaps he was not much hurt, after all." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said Fazil, significantly, " but it was well he fell 
 into good hands." 
 
244 TABA : 
 
 " Yes," returned the Kotwal, musingly, " was it not strange wliat 
 he told the Duffadar about Pahar Singh and the Shah*s secretary ? 
 I have heard that my lord, the Meerza, was out last night late, and 
 at a temple. Could it have been there ? " 
 
 " To meet Pahar Singh ? I should hardly say it was likely," 
 returned Fazil. 
 
 " Nay, more, that the Asylum of the Faith — the King himself — 
 was there also. At least — at least " 
 
 Fazil saw Jehandar Beg was not sure. It was a mere guess, for 
 which there was perhaps suspicion, but he laughed aloud and re- 
 plied, "A good joke, Meerza Sahib ; perhaps they say I was with him I" 
 
 "Well," returned the Kotwal, wagging his head, "the fact is, 
 they do ; and perhaps you were, my young friend. Let me see ; his 
 highness is about your own age. When I was as old I remember 
 the Shah, with some others of us, used to have frolics now and then 
 in the bazars of Isfahan. Ah, Meah, there were " 
 
 Fazil made a gesture, as if his father, who was sitting bolt 
 upright, with his eyes shut, might not like to hear the remainder. 
 
 " Yes," continued the Kotwal, " if ye did go, what matter ? " 
 
 " I have before said that Bulwunt Bao was my companion, not 
 the King ; and the rest you know of," interrupted the young Khan. 
 
 " Not all, Meah; but we are out of court now, and I am quite sure 
 of my young friend's good faith to let me know anything that con- 
 cerns the state interests, the King, or the Wuzeer ; and so, Meah 
 
 Sahib, if we could examine those papers together " 
 
 ^ " Ah, yes ! the papers, Meerza, you would not understand them — 
 they were Mahratta." 
 
 " But we could find a Karkoon to read them, and you are known 
 to speak that language, Meah ? " 
 
 " True, Meerza Sahib, I do ; but the papers are not here " 
 
 "Not here, sir!" cried Jehandar Beg, with an ominous scowl 
 passing over his face, at which Afzool Khan involuntarily allowed 
 his hand to steal to his sword hilt, as it lay on the ground. " Not 
 here?" 
 
 "Not here," echoed Fazil demurely, dropping his eyes. 
 
 " But they were here when you came this morning ? " 
 
 " Certainly they were ; and one of our people took them home 
 for me." 
 
 " Yet you promised they should be forthcoming whenever I re- 
 quired them ? Beware, Fazil Khan, how you entangle yourself in 
 this matter," returned the Kotwal, sternly. 
 
 "I do not think I made any promise, Meerza Sahib," replied 
 Fazil ; " ^tis you who must be mistaken, pardon me for saying so. 
 I said they concerned the King, our lord and master, and would be 
 shown to him only : and in Durbar to-day they will be presented to 
 him. You will be there, of course ? " 
 
A MA HR ATT A TALE. 245 
 
 By Alia ! " exclaimed the Kotwal ; '' but if- 
 
 At tlie oath the old Khan fairly took his sword in his left hand, 
 and placed it across his knees, while he looked grimly at his host ; 
 and Fazil saw the upper portion of his father's moustache, where it 
 touched his cheek, quivering with suppressed rage. 
 
 Jehandar Beg checked himself, and said, deferentially, "Forgive 
 the oath, Khan Sahib, and you know enough of Persians to excuse 
 it. It would have been pleasant, as fellow-servants of the King, to 
 have shared your confidence. As it is denied, 1 yield the point; 
 and you are welcome to all the credit of the service you will do my 
 lord. But what say you, gentlemen, to assisting me to re-examine 
 that Khayet who is detained without; you acknowledge, Meah 
 Sahib, at least, that he was rescued by you — perhaps from death ? *' 
 
 " You have a strange memory, Kotwal Sahib, to-day," said Fazil, 
 smiling. " I never said I rescued him, I think. Send for the man; 
 no doubt you will hear all you wish from him, and wiU believe 
 him. I do not appear to be very credible to you to-day." 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 As the Kotwal rose to go to the door, the old Khan whispered to his 
 son, " We can seize him, Fazil, if needs be, and put a dagger into 
 him. The man is not fit to live. - He is even now plotting some- 
 thing ; I know it, trust him not, my son." 
 
 "If needs be, father, I am ready; but no violence yet," replied 
 Fazil; "wait till the Wuzeer's son is announced." 
 
 " The man has been sent for," said Jehandar Beg, returning to his 
 seat, " and will be here presently." He had given his own directions 
 to the guard outside to stand by the door, yet no nearer than was 
 needful for precaution. 
 
 The Lalla was not long detained. Almost as Jehandar Beg had 
 seated himself — this time a little nearer to Fazil — he opened the 
 door, which was closed after him, and advanced towards the party 
 in a courtly but respectful manner. Fazil hardly recognized the man, 
 so completely had rest and good clothes improved him. His face was 
 clean shaved, his moustache and hair were trimmed and oiled. His 
 small turban tied neatly in the Nustalik fashion of the imperial 
 court, which was strange at Beejapoor. The clothes he wore, though 
 somewhat too large, were yet clean white muslin ; and a handsome 
 Persian shawl over his shoulders, proved that his personal comfort 
 had been well attended to under Jehandar Beg's orders. 
 
 " I trust you are better now," said Fazil to the Lalla, kindly, as, 
 after his very courtly advance, in which he bowed his head very low, 
 
24^ TABA 
 
 turned out his toes very wide, and put his elbows as far behind him 
 as possible, he sat down much after the manner of Jehandar Beg, on 
 the left hand of the Kotwal. 
 
 " My lord's house will prosper for his kindness to a poor stranger,'* 
 said the Lalla. *'What more delightful to exercise, what more 
 grateful to God, than hospitality ? " and he quoted a verse from the 
 poet Saadi on the subject, which he followed by another and another. 
 
 "Enough, friend," said Jehandar Beg, laughing. "No need to 
 prove your scholarly attainments ; they are not needed at present. 
 Now, we all bid you not to fear ; but tell us, in plain terms, what 
 happened before this brave young gentleman rescued you last night." 
 
 The Lalla was not very clear as to what course he was to take ; he, 
 too, ^as watching his game. 
 
 "My lord, noble sirs, they were G-osais who found me in the temple, 
 and ye are Moslem gentlemen, or nobles." 
 
 " Very true," said Fazil. " Now, look at me carefully, and try if 
 you cannot remember me as one who lifted you up after you had 
 been robbed." 
 
 "Ah, yes, noble sir, now I do remember," cried the Lalla ; "I owe 
 my life to you, sir, my life. When I screamed, you must have heard 
 me. I pray you, let me kiss your feet." 
 
 The action was an ordinary one of gratitude, yet enough to admit 
 of Fazil's passing a well-known signal of silence to the man as he 
 removed his hands, while the old Khan cried grimly — 
 
 "Make your reverence to your God, if you have one, not to my 
 son. Is he an idol, that you bow down to him ? " 
 
 " I mean no offence ; pardon me, my lord," said the Lalla, humbly* 
 "I was only " 
 
 The opening of the door interrupted the Lalla's speech, which 
 would have been very flowery and hyperbolic. 
 
 An attendant entered and spoke to the Kotwal. "My lord, 
 Kowas Khan has arrived ; is he to be admitted ? " 
 
 " Tell him I kiss his hands ; I am engaged with these worthy 
 gentlemen," returned Jehandar Beg, looking round ; " and pray ask 
 him to excuse me for a short time. If he would like a hooka, or 
 coffee, or sherbet, let him have all he desires." 
 
 " And his attendants ? " 
 
 " Let any of proper rank sit with him, the rest can remain in the 
 outer court." 
 
 "Very good, my lord," said the servant, and he shut the door. 
 
 During this interruption, a very pretty piece of pantomime had 
 been executed between the eyes of Fazil and the Lalla. It would 
 have been more complete, perhaps, could Fazil have used his hands 
 also, but he dare not. As it was, however, the Lalla seemed to 
 understand all that was required ; and the delightfully comprehensive 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 247 
 
 manner in wliicli lie half shut his eyes, bowed his head, and smiled 
 blandly though almost imperceptibly, would have been fit example 
 for any diplomatist. Nothing could be seen by the Kotwal, for, in 
 order to speak to the servant, it had been requisite for him to lean 
 behind the Lalla's back. 
 
 Jehandar Beg lost two points by his movement ; one we have seen, 
 the other was a more serious one. For as he moved, the letters which 
 had been given to him by Moro Trimmul's agent, and which he had 
 put into a side-pocket of his dress, protruded a little as he reached 
 over, and, when he settled himself again, remained projecting half 
 out of that receptacle. He was not aware of it, but they attracted 
 FaziFs immediate attention. These he must have at any risk — for 
 he had seen the seal of the rebel Rajah on them — and he again 
 roused his father by the short cough they had agreed upon. 
 
 " Now, Lallajee, tell us all. You see you are among friends ; but 
 we are hungry for fruit — flowers do not satisfy us," said Jehandar 
 Beg, jocosely rubbing his hands, and speaking in Persian, his own 
 language. 
 
 " My lords, what can I say?" returned the Lalla, simply. *' I am 
 what you see, a poor scholar. Delhi is full of such, and we are 
 starving. Every one said, ' Go to the King of the Dekhan ; he is 
 wise, he is generous, he is accomplished ; he is a patron of literature.* 
 So your poor servant prepared two copies of verses ; one in Sanscrit, 
 in which the third letter of every line is the same, T " 
 
 "Mashalla!" said Jehandar Beg, laughing, " Te-tum — te te, te- 
 ta-te to, Te ta-hah ! Like that, Lallajee ? O yes ; our Brahmuns 
 here make odes, in which all the words end in skri, pri, dri ; or elso 
 msh, kshsh, rshsh-dshush. One would think all the mud in the Dek- 
 han was squelching under their feet ; but go on." 
 
 *'My lord is pleased to be witty," returned the Lalla, with a bland 
 smile, turning towards his host and joining hands. " Then I had a 
 Persian ode. It was nothing — nothing — a poor thing altogether ; 
 only, if my lords wish, I could repeat it. Methinks there was some 
 elegance about it, if nothing else." 
 
 " God forbid ! " returned the Kotwal, echoed by Fazil and the 
 Khan. "Goon." 
 
 " Well, my lords, as you wish," continued the Lalla. *' Some other 
 day I may be more fortunate ; and, with your permission, I ^vill 
 resume my history. I had saved a few gold pieces, and I had 
 enough to keep my family for a year. I left them in my house, 
 and I have gradually made my way hither by Ahmednugger and 
 Sholapoor. That is all." 
 
 " Go on," said Fazil. " How didst thou get here from Sholapoor ?" 
 
 "I^came with some Gosais, as they appeared to be, who met me at 
 a village, Al — , Al — . I forget — just after you cross the river 
 Bheema." 
 
248' TABA : 
 
 '' Almella/' suggested tlie Khan, interrupting him. 
 
 '* Yes, that was it. They said they knew of a comf ortaMe lodging 
 in a temple or a mutt ; but if we arrived late we must be content 
 with whatever shelter we could get. I do not know, sirs, whether 
 they purposely delayed me by the way — for, indeed, the roads were 
 very muddy ; but we arrived after sunset, and they took me to a 
 temple of Bhowani, in a grove. So long as it was light the place 
 did not look amiss for temporary shelter ; but when it grew dark, 
 and the wind began to moan in the trees, I thought, sirs, that the 
 men's looks changed, and — and I began to tremble, yet unable to 
 help myself — as one lies bound sometimes in a dream. 
 
 *^ What could your slave do, sirs ? At length they talked 
 together in an unknown tongue, and all fell upon me, strangled me, 
 and took what money I had, and my clothes, and I knew no more 
 till this valiant gentleman and some one else roused me and took me 
 to a guard-house, where I was well cared for." 
 
 " Why do you tell lies ? " said the Kotwal, who, though unable to 
 make objection to the very probable story which the Lalla had 
 invented, felt conscious there was no truth in it. ** Ah, man with a 
 burnt father, tell the truth ; we are no enemies of thine ! Do not eat 
 dirt at our hands ! Why did the Shah's secretary visit thee at the 
 temple ? Speak ; it shall be well for thee. We are all friends of his 
 Majesty's here." 
 
 A very slight compression of Fazil's under lip was sufficient guide 
 for the Lalla. '' The King's secretary ? God defend us ! " cried the 
 Lalla, innocently ; ^^ what should I have to do with the secretary ? 
 Ah, sii'S, why this oppression of a poor slave like me — a stranger 
 without friends ? Did you see the secretary when you came to rescue 
 me, noble sir ? " 
 
 "Not I, indeed; thou wast lying among the ashes, senseless 
 enough. All we heard was a scream, which sounded like one in 
 distress, and we entered the court," said Fazil, simply. 
 
 The Kotwal looked from one to the other, but he could find out 
 no sign of intelligence. He was fairly puzzled. 
 
 " Then why that respectable DufPadar's account of what you said to 
 him in the guard-house ? " cried Jehandar Beg, jerking himself sud- 
 denly round so as to confront the Lalla, while he seconded the move- 
 ment by an emphatic blow on the floor. " What about Pahar Singh ? " 
 
 As he did so, his sleeve caught one of the letters projecting from 
 his pocket, which flew into the centre of the group. Fazil picked 
 it up, and returned ;it with a polite bow, but not before he had 
 distinctly seen the seal of the Rajah Sivaji Bhoslay upon it, and the 
 memorandum in the corner, which Jehandar Beg had written 
 for the Wuzeer, and marked private. Jehandar Beg's confusion on 
 receiving the letter could not be concealed, and Fazil felt that, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 249 
 
 having seen what was not intended for him, he vv^as in greater 
 danger than before. 
 
 " What about Pahar Singh ?'* echoed the Lalla, who had observed 
 the confused expression of Jehandar Beg's countenance, and seen 
 also what he was quite famihar with, the rebel Rajah's seal. " My 
 lord, your servant heard a great deal of him, as he came here through 
 the country. Everybody, from Ahmednugger to Sholapoor, spoke 
 of Pahar Singh, and warned me of Pahar Singh, but the Grosais 
 did not appear to fear him, and said he never touched companies of 
 travelling beggars. I remember now," continued the Lalla, dreamily, 
 *' I think some one asked me whether Pahar Singh had robbed me. 
 Perhaps I said yes, I don't know ; I might have said anything, good 
 sirs, for I was like one in a hideous dream ; and this robber every- 
 body appeared to know : — in the bazars, in temples, mutts, serais — 
 Pahar Singh, Pahar Singh — nothing but Pahar Singh all the way. 
 I heard enough of him." 
 
 " Thou liest, Lalla. I have warned thee once, and again warn 
 thee — beware of the torture ! " cried Jehandar Beg savagely, and 
 from between his closed teeth ; "a word and " 
 
 "Jehandar Beg," said Afzool Khan, interrupting, "you and I are 
 old friends, and I am your guest, so also is this man. Good or evil 
 of him I know not, neither do I care : but torture shall not be used ; 
 and so far as I know or have seen, he says nothing but the truth. 
 Wo are helpless enough here, my son and I, but we will not allow 
 him to be touched with any of your vile instruments. Question 
 him otherwise as you please, it is your duty." 
 
 The tone of the old Khan's voice, habitually stern, seemed more 
 so than usual to Jehandar Beg. Should he resent it and call in his 
 men ? It was the thought of a moment. He would have done 
 this, but that he knew the Wuzeer's son sat without ; he, at least, 
 was faithful to Fazil, and might not object to prove his devotion to 
 the old Khan, in the hope of its doing service in his suit for Zyna. 
 
 " Khan Sahib- " returned Jehandar Beg, putting up his joined 
 
 hands. 
 
 He could not finish the sentence. Fazil, on pretence of arranging 
 his shawl about his shoulders, threw it with a sudden gesture over 
 the Kotwal's head, and closed it behind, throwing Jehandar Beg on 
 his face, while, at the same instant, a dagger flashed from the old 
 Khan's waistband, and was held by him close to the Kotwal's heart, 
 and so that the point actually pricked the skin. 
 
 " Take out those letters, Lalla, from his pocket. In the name of 
 the Prophet — if one sound escape him, father — strike deep and hard. 
 Here is another traitor as bad as him we know of. There, hold his 
 legs, Lalla. Wah, wah ! thou art a noble fellow ; fear not, friend — 
 we are not like the Jogi. There, that will do ; and well was it 
 
250 TAIiA : 
 
 done," continued Fazil, as the Lalla rapidly passed an end of his 
 own scarf round the Kotwal's arms, and tied it in a knot behind his 
 back ; " he is safe now. Where is his ring ? give it to me, qtiick.'* 
 
 " Beware, Jehandar Beg," growled Afzool Khan, who leant over 
 the prostrate man without altering his position, as the Lalla loosed 
 the ring, " I do not want to kill thee, good fellow ; but, by Alia, if 
 thou strivest ever so little, this knife will go through thee. I am 
 no friend to traitors, as thou well knowest ; so keep quiet." 
 
 It was a bold stroke ; but in such emergencies desperate efforts 
 are generally the most successful. Fazil took the Kotwal's signet- 
 ring, and went to the door. The slave Jaffur looked at it for an 
 instant, bowed his head, and crossed his arms ; while Fazil, looking 
 round the hall, beckoned to his friend, who, attended by some 
 twenty of his followers, sat upon the dais. 
 
 Kowas Khan arose instantly, and with him the men, who made 
 their salutations, and advanced towards the door. The slaves be- 
 lieved that the Wuzeer's son had been sent for, and stood aside to 
 let him pass : and as the young men embraced in the doorway, 
 Fazil whispered to his friend to disarm them, and hold the door. A 
 pressure of the hand was the sure reply. 
 
 "I will return with my shawl," said Kowas Khan aloud, going 
 back towards his seat, " and I will follow you directly." 
 
 A moment afterwards Fazil and the Khan heard a few low cries, 
 a struggle, and a slight clash of arms. The surprise had been com- 
 plete. The slaves were disarmed, thrust into the Wuzeer's private 
 room, and the doors closed. 
 
 " Fear not, noble friends," cried the cheery voice of the Wuzeer's 
 son, as he stood in the doorway, " ye are safe, and no one is hurt. 
 I have five hundred men of my own body-guard in the courts, on 
 foot and horseback ; and, Inshalla !• we can hold the Kotwallee 
 against an army. May I come ? " 
 
 "Ul-humd-ul-illa!" cried the Khan and his son together, " hazar 
 shookr, hazar shookr ! — (A thousand thanks!) O holy * Geesoo 
 Duraz!' I vow to thee a thousand lights, and a chain of gold for 
 the canopy of thy blessed sepulchre," continued the Khan, devoutly. 
 
 " Come, friend and brother," said Fazil ; " come here and see 
 what treachery doth in the most trusted places — nay, fear us not, 
 Jehandar Beg," he continued ; "we are not arbiters in your destiny 
 — ^it rests in higher hands than ours. Father, take away the knife 
 from his heart." 
 
 " I don't know that I ought," said the old Khan, grimly. " I 
 shall keep it ready, and near thee, Jehandar Beg. 1 trust thee not, 
 my friend." 
 
 "You are more lucky than I am," returned the Kotwal, sadly. 
 " When a man's fate deserts him, he need not struggle — he is help- 
 less," and he quoted a verse from the Gulistan to that effect. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 251 
 
 " Sh abash ! a scholarly quotation," said the Lalla, gravely. " And 
 now, gentlemen, if ye will trust a poor Mutsuddee, who has some 
 experience, we will examine this worthy gentleman's pockets ; and 
 if he has any private writing-cases, something might be found in 
 them also." 
 
 " Peace, Lalla !" cried Fazil, sternly ; " what we do concerns thee 
 not. But thou hast been faithful and intelligent, and we will see 
 thee rewarded." 
 
 What was found in the search will presently appear ; meanwhile, 
 we need to see how those assembled with the King, in his royal 
 court, were employed. 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 The great Hall of Audience in the Citadel was only used on state 
 occasions of ceremony. It formed part of the oldest division of the 
 royal residence, and was built, as report had it, after a model in 
 Turkey or Persia, in both of which countries the founder of the 
 dynasty, Ibrahim Adil Shah, had resided. But as no such model is 
 known to exist, it is more probable that one of the Turkish archi- 
 tects whom he had invited to his camp, and to whose Europeanized 
 skill and taste most of the noble Saracenic Gothic buildings of the 
 city owed their origin, had designed and executed the whole under 
 the direction of his munificent patron. 
 
 The " Ark," or Citadel of Beejapoor, is a fortress in itself, and 
 the area is surrounded by a beautiful stone wall, having heavy 
 bastions at intervals, and a fausse braye, also with bastions ; both 
 being protected by a broad wet ditch. The main entrance is by 
 a causeway, defended by a gateway, flanked by bastions of great 
 strength. The whole of the interior was laid out in palaces, under 
 various denominations, and public buildings, such as the courts of 
 civil and criminal justice, the treasury, the military and revenue 
 record offices, and the like, and the great Hall of Audience, which 
 now concerns us. 
 
 A broad road from the second gateway led nearly through the 
 centre of the Citadel, as you entered, to the Maidan, or plain of 
 exercise. The Palace of the Seven Stories, and the buildings con- 
 nected with it, lay on the left hand, and the " Sunget Mahal," or 
 Palace of Assembly, with other heavy blocks of building, public 
 and private, to the right. All these palaces, at the time of which 
 we write, were interspersed with courts and gardens ; but the space 
 before the great Hall, called the Maidan or Plain, was kept exclu- 
 sively for the assembly, inspection, or exercise of royal troops on 
 particular occasions, and also as the waiting-place of the '' sowarees," 
 
252 TABA : 
 
 or retinnes, wliicli attended those who visited the palace on ordinary 
 business. 
 
 The hall itself was a very noble building. It stood upon a low 
 basement, beneath which were crypts, probably used for archives, or 
 as magazines ; and was entered by flights of steps, which led into 
 corridors at each side. The front was entirely open, consisting of 
 one immense Grothic arch, ninety-two feet in span, and of propor- 
 tionate height, and of two narrow lancet-shaped arches of corres- 
 ponding height, one on each side, which opened on the side corridors. 
 
 The interior consisted of one immense room, unbroken to the 
 roof ; but upon its south side, and partially also east and west, there 
 were projections built upon cloisters, which contained rooms and 
 galleries ; especially to the south, where there was a closed latticed 
 balcony, where the ladies of the court might sit and look on at 
 ceremonies of reception or rejoicing, and where the King might 
 receive the petitions or salutations of the people without incon- 
 venience. Above these galleries and balconies was another story, 
 with open turrets at the corners, and suites of apartments above. 
 As the building stands now, a mere shell, bereft of roof and floors, 
 and with all, except its noble arches and cloisters, crumbling 
 gradually to decay, it is a noble and impressive structure, and 
 enough remains to estimate what it must have been when perfect. 
 
 A busy and interesting scene it was, even to those concerned. As 
 each " sowaree " arrived at the entrance steps, it was met by a num- 
 ber of " chobdars," and mirdhas, or attendants, bearing massive gold 
 and silver sticks, or clubs covered with chased silver or gold ; dressed 
 exclusively in white muslin, wearing small circular turbans, flattened 
 out at the sides, muslin tunics, tight to the waist, and descending 
 thence in thickly-gathered robes to the feet, which gave them the 
 appearance of petticoats. These men attended officers of higher 
 rank, who were, in fact, chamberlains, and whose duty it was to 
 conduct the various visitors to the presence of the King, to proclaim 
 aloud their titles, and to marshal them to their seats. Without, the 
 royal Abyssinian and Dekhani guards prevented violence among 
 their retainers. 
 
 Once the broad corridor at either side was reached by the visitors 
 there was no further interruption ; and though the war of struggle, 
 gibe, and quarrel, peculiar to such an assembly, came hoarsely and 
 with a stifled sound through the arches into the hall : — within, 
 there was a decorous, if not, indeed, a solemn and impressive silence. 
 Men spoke to each other hardly above their breath ; and the soft 
 murmur arising from thousands of such half whispers ascended and 
 seemed to float tremblingly among the balconies, and up to the lofty 
 roof of the building. 
 
 The King had early taken his seat. The musnud, or royal throne, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 255 
 
 was under the centre of the balcony before mentioned, upon a dais, 
 raised a step above the general fioor of the hall. There was no 
 decoration visible upon it ; and it consisted of a wide cushion and 
 pillows, covered with white muslin, supported at the back and 
 sides by a railing of wood, covered with plates of gold which, indeed, 
 appeared as if of solid gold. On the right hand of the King, who 
 was dressed in simple white muslin, with a single gold ornament in 
 his turban, sat the Peer Bundagee Sahib, the religious instructor 
 we have before mentioned ; and at the back of the rail the Secretary, 
 with two young nobles, whose hereditary office it was to wave over 
 the King the jewelled Morchas, or fans of peacock feathers. 
 
 Farther again behind, among the arches, closing up the entrance 
 to the cloisters, and leaning against the pillars, were servants bearing 
 the King's weapons, the Aftabgeeree, or sun-shades, the royal 
 um.brellas, and the private guard of slaves, mostly Nubian eunuchs. 
 Like the monarch's seat, the whole of the floor was covered by 
 quilted cotton carpets, over which white muslin was spread ; so that, 
 with the exception of here and there a coloured scarf or waistbelt, 
 and an occasional turban ornament, the whole of the persons seated 
 wore the same character of dress as the King, with little variation. 
 In some respects the assembly had a monotonous appearance ; but, 
 on the other hand, the e:ffect was chaste and solemn, and agreed 
 with the plain undecorated character of the building. 
 
 The privileged attendants, however, who were allowed entrance 
 with their masters, and who stood in files behind them against the 
 wall, were dressed in the brightest and gayest colours which could 
 be devised. Here were tunics of satin and cloth- of- gold, brocaded 
 turbans and scarfs of the richest materials, mingled together in 
 the greatest profusion'; and this brilliant array, in which all hues 
 seemed to blend with a strangely gorgeous harmony, formed a 
 powerful background in relief of the white dresses, and white 
 coverings of the floor. 
 
 Then beyond, the eye followed the graceful outline of the vast 
 arch against a deep blue sky, flecked with light clouds. Below, it 
 rested upon the plain, where, in the quivering heat, which gave a 
 tremulous movement to the atmosphere, stood the serried masses of 
 royal troops and sowarees, comparisoned elephants and led horses, 
 litters and their bearers — all in the glowing colours which we have 
 already seen from the Queen's balcony ; and with bright arms and 
 armour, which flashed and glinted in a thousand sparkles as the 
 wearers moved. 
 
 The Secretary and the Peer had noted, carefully and jealously, the 
 names of the several nobles and sirdars as they were announced by the 
 mirdhas in attendance — presented their customary nuzzurs or offer- 
 ings, according to their rank, and were conducted to their places ; 
 
254 TABA 
 
 and every now and then one or other whispered to the King, as 
 neutral or suspected persons passed, or when the appearance of a 
 well-known loyal friend gave assurance of support. Still Afzool 
 Khan's place was vacant, and that of the Wuzeer. It was true the 
 latter could not yet be expected, but his son might at least be 
 present ; and the double absence cast a gloom over the King's face, 
 which he could barely conceal. 
 
 "I had counted upon Afzool Khan and [his son Fazil," said the 
 King, mournfully, to the Peer, " but you see they have not come. 
 We might not expect Kowas Khan without his father ; but I had 
 thought Afzool Khan among the truest of my people — what think 
 
 The Peer could give but little consolation. He, too, had expected 
 the Khan, and had had no doubts of his fidelity ; so also the Secre- 
 tary ; but his unaccountable absence disturbed them both. 
 
 Just then the lady Lurlee's escort, entering the open space, 
 wheeled up among other troops, and the leader,' Raheem Khan, 
 dashed at speed to the foot of the basement, made his reverence to 
 the King, and followed his men to the position they had taken up. 
 
 " Ah," cried the Peer, joyfully, to the King, ^' those are Afzool 
 Khan's ' sowaree ' ; the old Khan and his son are not far o£E now, 
 Shookr-Oolla ; " and he looked anxiously to the side entrance, in the 
 hope of seeing him advance with his son from the archway in the 
 corridor. Others came on, but neither appeared. 
 
 "What hinders Afzool Khan?" said the Secretary to the Peer, 
 after a while ; " who is detaining him ? " 
 
 " Send and inquire," said the King. 
 
 " Go," said the Peer to a mirdha in attendance, " and see if Afzool 
 Khan be in the corridor ; if not, go to his officer and inquire where 
 he is, — not as if our Prince had asked, but from me." The King, 
 to whom the man looked for orders, nodded assent, and he departed 
 and returned speedily. 
 
 " I examined both corridors, and he was not in either, Huzrut," 
 he said to the holy man, " so I went to Raheem Khan, who tells me 
 he has come with the Khanum ; " and here his voice dropped 
 almost to a whisper, " that Afzool Khan hath been at the Kotwal's, 
 at Jehandar Beg's, since morning, and it is particular business, as 
 both he and his son have been in private consultation with him 
 since sunrise." 
 
 The King had leaned over the rail to hear the detail, but he had 
 not noticed the first part of the message ; and as the man receded 
 among the attendants behind, looked from one to the other of his 
 friends, but could gather no consolation from their faces. 
 
 " It is but too true, my lord," said the Secretary sadly; "we need 
 not expect them j for the Wuzeer 's son, with a heavy body of horse 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 255 
 
 and foot, has just gone to the Kotwallee — he was seen with them 
 not long ago passing the fort gate. Jehandar Beg is not come, and 
 it is clear to me that they have garrisoned the Kotwallee, and will 
 defend it till the Wnzeer arrives, when they will declare revolt. 
 Sending a party here is but a blind." 
 
 "And who are here to check it? " asked the King apprehensively. 
 
 " Many, my lord," replied the Peer earnestly ; " all the Dekhanies 
 are my disciples, and I will answer for them to a man. All the 
 artillery are with them. Fear not." 
 
 The King looked inquiringly to his Secretary. 
 
 *' Yes, my Prince," he said, "fear not : we cannot wait for them ; 
 nothing good ever came of vacillation or expediency. Bismilla! 
 shall I order silence ? " 
 
 " Bismilla-ir-rahman-ir-raheem ! " exclaimed the King devoutly, 
 looking up. " I am ready. Order silence," he said to one of the 
 the mirdhas. 
 
 " Khamosh ! silence ! " cried the man in a loud, deep voice, 
 which rang through the hall, and sounded strangely, interrupting 
 the loose murmuring chat which had prevailed before — "Khamosh ! " 
 
 "Khamosh!" was reiterated by all the mirdhas and chobdars 
 stationed about the hall, and by the attendants behind, and was 
 taken up by those in the corridors, spreading to the crowd without, 
 and to the troops — " Khamosh ! " 
 
 The silence that ensued was almost oppressive. In the hall itself, 
 after the men had once more settled themselves in their seats, there 
 was not a sound or murmur. The struggles and gibes without 
 ceased, and even the troops were still, save where a neigh, or the 
 rattle of caparisons, as horses tossed their heads or champed their 
 bits, broke the stillness ; or an elephant, clashing his bells, and being 
 admonished by his driver, lifted his trunk, and gave a short scream. 
 
 It was the Secretary's office to open the business of the day, and 
 just as he was about to speak, the chief of the eunuchs entered, 
 bearing the Queen's billet, and kneeling down behind the rail, while 
 he spoke aside, covering his mouth, said to the King hastily — 
 
 " It is a matter of life or death. If Afzool Khan hath any favour 
 in your eyes, O King, save him ! there may be time." 
 
 " This is some trick on thee, Daood," said the King sneeringly ; 
 " we know where he is, and how employed. He is ours no longer, 
 and hath left us of his own free will." 
 
 " His wife and daughter are with the Begum Sahiba. Bead that, 
 and you will know why," answered the man firmly. 
 
 " Can it be true ? " asked the King of the Peer, opening the note. 
 " Ya Khubeer, ! " he continued, after a pause : " this is wonder- 
 ful ! wonderful ! O friends ! and yet we had suspected our noble 
 friend. But he is true ; see, here is our royal signet to this ; no 
 doubt, no doubt." 
 
250 TABA 
 
 *' What is it ? " cried both the Peer and the Secretary in a breath, 
 seeing the King much excited. 
 
 " Afzool Khan and his son are imprisoned at the Kotwallee, and 
 prevented from attending. They must be brought instantly." 
 
 " Imprisoned ? " cried both together. 
 
 "Yes, friends," continued the King, "there is treachery in this, 
 for Jehandar Beg and the Wuzeer are one, it is clear now, and we 
 must act at once. Ismail Khan," continued he firmly, to an officer 
 who stood behind him clothed in a shirt of mail, " go thou with two 
 hundred of the royal guard, and some of the mirdhas, bring 
 Jehandar Beg to the presence, and with him Afzool Khan and his 
 son." 
 
 " I beg to petition," said the eunuch, "that some of Afzool Khan's 
 Paigah are here, who came with their mistress ; they might as well 
 go, if I might send them." 
 
 " Of course," replied the King, "why not send the whole Paigah? " 
 
 " Excellent," said the Peer ; " take what are here with thee, 
 Ismail Khan, at once, and send for the rest. Baheem Khan will 
 not fail thee." 
 
 " I am gone, my lord, and will take him with me ; he is my son- 
 in-law." 
 
 " Ah, I had forgotten. Go ; fear not ; bring them safely and 
 quickly, friend, for we have much need of their presence." 
 
 " Ya Ulla Kureem ! " said the Peer devoutly, looking up, " this is 
 thy doing. O, dear old friend ! thou art not gone from among us 
 as we had feared. Bismilla, let us proceed ! first with these letters 
 of Sivaji's, then with the rest. Afzool Khan will be here by that 
 time, and the people will rise to his call as a man. Inshalla ! your 
 poor servant, too, will do his best. Let silence be called again." 
 
 It was necessary : for the entrance of the eunuch, the delivery of 
 the note, followed as they were by the withdrawal of Afzool Khan's 
 men, and some of the royal gaard, had excited no little curiosity in 
 the assembly. Afzool Khan's absence had been regretted by some, 
 rejoiced in by others, but noticed by all ; and now that his men 
 were sent away, the speculations that ensued were various as to the 
 cause ; and while some feared disclosures, others already rejoiced in 
 the prospect of his possible disgrace. 
 
 " Khamosh ! " again was cried by the same voice, which rung 
 clearly above the buzz of conversation, and was taken up as before 
 — " Khamosh — silence ! " 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE, 257 
 
 CHAPTER XLIII. 
 
 " NOBLES, and well-wishers of the State ! " cried the Secretary, in 
 a strong, manly voice, "it is not mere ceremony for which ye have 
 been called together this day ; and it is not that the present urgent 
 matters might not be disposed of by the Shah — may his splendour 
 increase ; — but in affairs of such moment, he would have the advice 
 and assistance of older men, and of those who, for years past, have 
 given their faith and their blood freely for the kingdom, and for his 
 family ; and surely nothing need be done in private, when ye, O 
 Moslems ! can be witnesses before Grod and the Prophet. 
 
 *' Lo, friends in the faith ! he hath called ye together because of 
 those grievous rumours of treachery which prevail : and because of 
 intrigues which have sown distrust between man and man in this 
 city. Of these, two have been revealed to him by means little short 
 of a miracle, and yet so true, that a child may understand them. 
 Hear, then, what my lord the King will say to ye — listen ! '* 
 
 A low murmur arose through the assembly as men spoke in short, 
 eager whispers to each other. Who was to be accused ? To whom 
 did these introductory remarks refer in particular? Many a 
 secret traitor then sitting there, trembled upon his seat. Were he 
 denounced, he felt there would be no alternative between detection 
 and almost instant death, and there were not a few who repeated to 
 themselves the dying confession of faith. If it was to be, it was to 
 be ; there was no escape now. 
 
 The King spoke from his seat, and though his voice was of a 
 gentler character than his Secretary's, its silvery ringing tones were 
 even more distinctly heard. 
 
 " O friends and subjects!" he said, "many words are hardly 
 needful when the understanding is to have clear scope for action, 
 and I desire all to consider what will be now put before ye. As 
 God hath appointed me His deputy on earth to govern this king- 
 dom, so I am answerable to Him for it, and for you, my people. 
 This I clearly admit. If it be glorious, are ye not so ? If it be 
 tranquil, are ye not safe? If it be humbled, are ye not humbled 
 likewise ? Is any one weary of our service, let him leave it, but for 
 the rest, let us be united : let it not be said by our enemies that we 
 could be seduced and divided, or that our foolish quarrels are worse 
 than the petty jealousies of the women of a divided house. O noble 
 Dekhanies, put enmity and treachery from among ye : is it come to 
 this, that they exist ? Listen." 
 
 The King paused, and seemed to be searching under his cushions, 
 while the sounds of his last words, rising to the vaulted roof, 
 trembled in a sweet faint murmur, and died away among its fretted 
 recesses ; and as yet the rapt silence of the assembly was unbroken. 
 
258 TAEA 
 
 "A man," he continued, holding up a mass of papers to the view 
 of all — " one whom we had venerated as a father — into whose hands 
 we were given by our father on his deathbed — has been false. 
 False to me, that is nothing, — false to the kingdom and to you, that 
 is more, — false to his oath to an orphan as I am, and to God, that is 
 most of all. Here is his writing, here are his seals, — look at them. 
 These letters to the Padshah Alumgeer began ere that bad man 
 were a king, and have been continued within a month ; and by them 
 we read now, that him we speak of would have given away our 
 kingdom, but would have reserved his share. And yet, O Khan 
 Mahomed ! if we wrong thee in this, we will do thee justice before 
 God and this assembly." 
 
 "Justice, justice!" echoed a thousand voices: "put out the 
 treason ! " while many rose excitedly to their feet and were pulled 
 down again by their neighbours. 
 
 " Wait," continued the King. "Let him be heard in his own 
 behalf when he arrives ; do not prejudge him. If these are untrue, 
 there is no honour we possess or can confer, that shall not be his. 
 If true, let the just Alia judge him. before ye all." 
 
 " Ameen, ameen ! " cried the Peer devoutly. " Ameen, ameen! " 
 was echoed by the assembly, in a hoarse roar, which filled the hall. 
 Again there was silence. 
 
 " The next is a more simple matter," continued the King, with 
 increased confidence. " Ye all know of Sivaji Bhoslay. How often 
 his father rebelled, and was punished, and again forgiven by our 
 father. How often the son hath been guilty of crimes. All these 
 would have been forgiven. As a wise father corrects, while he bears 
 with and forgives the errors of a wilful son, — so should we have for- 
 given also ; but for treachery. Look, friends, here, in the same 
 packet with those we have just mentioned, are these letters from 
 Sivaji to the Padshah. We who have fed this wolf, are his enemies ; 
 those who have hunted him, are his friends. Here are lists of forts 
 which will be taken and held for the Moghuls, of districts to pay for 
 armies, of men who will join with their local levies. Between them 
 they will share the Dekhan, and Sivaji will be the imperial Yice- 
 regent ! 
 
 " Did ye hear, friends ? " he continued, after a pause. " Do ye 
 desire to serve under the infidel ? I am young. I have no experi- 
 ence. I am a humble worm before God ; but I am the son of one 
 who led ye to victory. I am one who has been nursed in war, and 
 will lead ye again ! Choose, then, between them and the King of 
 your ancient dynasty. If I have a place in your hearts, bid me stay ; 
 if not, a Durwaysh's robe and staff are mine, and at the blessed shrine 
 of the Prophet I will abjure the world and die. I will trouble ye no 
 more. No, no more — ^me, or mine." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 259 
 
 For an instant the same sweet trembling murmur of tlie King's 
 Yoice arose to tlie roof — but for an instant only. As if with, one 
 accord, a shout of " Deen ! Deen ! for the faith ! for the faith ! we 
 will die for you!" — rang through the building, as men, no longer 
 able to control their emotions, started to their feet and shouted the 
 war-cry of Islam. Those who were without had observed the emo- 
 tion in the hall, but had not been aware of its cause. Now, how- 
 ever, the famiUar battle-shout fell on willing ears, and was returned, 
 from the thousands gathered there, with an enthusiasm which knew 
 no bounds. " Deen ! Deen ! " accompanied by the battle-cries of the 
 various nobles and chiefs whose escorts were drawn up together. 
 
 Just then, and as the excitement from within and without had some- 
 what subsided, a strong body of horse, known to all as belonging to 
 Afzool Khan, swept round the corner of the building with its stan- 
 dard unfurled, and its kettle-drums beating loudly. Among the 
 serried mass of horsemen could be seen a palankeen closely muffled 
 and jealously guarded, immediately behind which rode the brave old 
 Khan and his son Fazil, with several of his officers. It was evident 
 to all that the litter contained a person of consequence ; and many 
 from within the hall looked around anxiously, as Afzool Khan, his 
 son, and several others with him, dismounted and placed themselves 
 beside it. Could the Wuzeer have returned ? If so, he was already 
 a prisoner, and there was no hope. If not, whom could it be ? The 
 King had been about to address the assembly again, but he paused 
 and turned to those behind him. 
 
 "Ah," he cried exultingly, "Alia hath heard our prayers, and 
 here are our noble friends. I vow thank-offerings to thee, Sofee 
 Surmust ! * O Geesoo Duraz ! by thy hands, Peer Sahib, as thou 
 wilt ! " 
 
 " I said the planets assured me that my lord should destroy his 
 enemies to-day," said the Peer, wiping his eyes, for his love for Afzool 
 Khan was great, and he had feared seduction. " Shookr oolla ! 
 Shookroolla ! Hazarha- Shookr ! thousands of thanks do we offer at thy 
 throne, O merciful ! and here he comes, Soobhan Ulla ! Soobhan Ulla ! " 
 
 Afzool Khan was well known, and a hearty shout had greeted him 
 as he dismounted, looked proudly about him, and returned the salu- 
 tations of his friends and the soldiery. The palankeen was, by his 
 orders, taken up the steps into the corridor ; and, room being cleared 
 for it by the sticks and maces of the chobdars, it was carried on, the 
 Khan and his son accompanying it, through the entrance hall and 
 into the centre of the assembly before the throne, where, in spite of the 
 remonstrances of the chamberlains, it was set down. Then the KLan, 
 disengaging his sword from his belt, and bidding Fazil do the same, 
 they advanced to the foot of the musnud, and enveloping the hilts 
 
 * A celebrated Mahomedan saint of tlie Dekhan, whose tomb is at Sugger, 
 
260 TAEA 
 
 in their scarfs, presented tliem as " nnzznrs " or offerings to the King, 
 making, at the same time, their customary obeisances. 
 
 " Pardon for this boldness, my prince," said the Khan; "but as 
 the merciful Alia delivered us strangely out of his hands who is 
 there, we thought we had better bring him to 'the presence ' at once." 
 
 "Who?" asked the king excitedly. "The Wuzeer ? Khan 
 Mahomed ? " 
 
 "No, my lord," returned the Khan, " but Jehandar Beg." 
 
 " God be praised thou art safe, Khan," returned the King, putting 
 out his hand and resting it upon the Khan's head, " and thou also, 
 Fazil. Now, we have no fear." 
 
 " Ah, old friend ! " cried the Peer, the tears fairly running down 
 his cheeks while he pointed to the King ; "he hath been so brave, so 
 brave : my boy — so eloquent. Stones would have cried out at his 
 words. Didst thou not hear the shouting ? " 
 
 " Surely," returned the Khan ; "but 'tis hardly a welcome sound 
 in these days unless one knows the reason, so we hurried on. Elo- 
 quent ! I knew he would be so. Brave ! Ay, or he is no descendant of 
 his royal race. May I open the litter, my lord ? " he asked of the King. 
 
 " Bismilla ! open it," he replied; and some of the attendants 
 hastily untied the knots by which the cover had been fastened over 
 the top. As the last fold was removed, the figure of Jehandar Beg 
 sitting upright, his arms and hands swathed carefully in a shawl, 
 and his eyes bound with a handkerchief, was displayed to all. The 
 bandage was removed, and he looked wildly about him. 
 
 Jehandar Beg saw his position at once. He was no coward, and 
 he perceived that all chance of life had passed away. The Wuzeer 
 was not there, and Afzool Khan, stooping into the litter, took up the 
 case containing Jehandar Beg's most secret papers, and presented 
 them to the King. " May I be loosed ? " said the Kotwal to the 
 Khan. " My fate is in the King's hands." 
 
 " Surely," replied the King; " we fear him not, nor any enemy," 
 he continued, looking round. " May Grod deliver them into our hands, 
 even as he hath this traitor." 
 
 " Ameen ! Ameen ! " cried a tumult of voices, followed by the lou^d 
 Khcimosh of the criers. 
 
 Afzool Khan spoke so as to be heard by all. We need not follow 
 his recital, for the particulars have been already related ; but the 
 words were drunk in with avidity by the assembly. He disclosed no 
 man's name ; the papers would speak for themselves. 
 
 One by one they were read, Persian and Mahratta in turn, clearly 
 and distinctly ; while, by the King's command, several of them were 
 taken round by mutsuddees to the principal nobles and sirdars, that 
 the seals might be examined. 
 
 This necessarily occupied some time, during which, the litter having 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 261 
 
 been removed to the door, JeMndar Beg stood in tlie centre, as yet 
 boldly if not defiantly. Could the Wuzeer only arrive — and he was 
 expected momentarily — all would be changed. Before him the 
 King, bold as he seemed now, would quail ; those friends in the as- 
 sembly, who had already exchanged glances with him, would at once 
 rise. There might be bloodshed, and of the result he had no doubt : 
 it had been calculated beforehand, and was certain. Much depended 
 on a mysterious arrangement of the Wuzeer 's, which he suspected ; 
 but to the particulars of which he had not been admitted. Need he 
 deny the papers ? He dare not. They were facts which could 
 neither be denied nor evaded. 
 
 " Unhappy, godless man," cried the King, when several had been 
 read, and others were being examined, " are these true ? Dost thoa 
 admit them ? Hast thou eaten my salt and found it so bitter, that 
 that of others seemed sweeter to thee ? Speak, Jehandar Beg ! are 
 these true ? are they thine own ? " 
 
 Upon his reply hung many a life had he chosen to denounce those 
 present ; but with all his bad faith, there was no meanness in the man. 
 
 " The letters, my prince, are true ; as they are addressed. I have 
 no more to say. Whatever my fate is to be, let it come ; I am ready 
 to meet it," returned the Kotwal, firmly. 
 
 *' And these for Khan Mahomed ? The writing in the corner is 
 yours, and the date of receipt is to-day." 
 
 " It is my writing ; why should I tell a lie ? " returned Jehandar 
 Beg, sullenly ; " but I know not the contents." 
 
 '' Enough," replied the King ; " my friends, we would do no in- 
 justice. Let us await the Wuzeer's arrival — ^it cannot be long now 
 — and hear the result from his own lips." 
 
 CHAPTER XLIY. 
 
 "My loed, my prince," whispered the officer of the royal guard, 
 stepping behind the rail in an agitated manner, " be careful of your- 
 self ; there is disturbance without ; we will close round you ; come 
 away. The Wuzeer — the Wuzeer is — is — dead — killed, they say — 
 at the outer gate as he entered. Withdraw with us — quick," said 
 the man excitedly ; " the news is spreading fast." 
 
 " Who hath done this ?" cried the King, starting to his feet, and 
 seizing his sword and shield, which, according to custom, lay before 
 him. " The Wuzeer is dead, they say. Is there aught to fear ? I 
 move not, Af zool Khan, come what may. If I am to die, let it be 
 here, on my father's judgment-seat. Will ye bear me company ? " 
 
 *' To death, to death ! " exclaimed Afzool Khan. " Who dare 
 
262 TARA : 
 
 harm you ? Ho ! AUa-ool-Moolks, Bliylmees, Dagtorajs, all true 
 men present, — rally round tlie King," shouted the Khan. " Deen, 
 deen ! " and his familiar battle-cry, " Futteh-i-Nubbee ! " (Victory to 
 the Prophet) rang high above the hoarse murmur which had arisen 
 among the assembly. 'Now, however, those mentioned by the Khan 
 sprang to their feet by scores, and their example was followed by 
 hundreds. *' Deen, Deen! " was shouted with increased enthusiasm. 
 
 " Here is one who brings particulars," said the Secretary, as an 
 officer was led in, who prostrated himself before the King. 
 
 "My lord, the Wuzeer is dead," said the man, sobbing bitterly. 
 " They murdered him at the gate. Those who did it went off across 
 the plain, but they were men who had ridden with him. I was 
 upon the bastion over the gate with a few others, and we saw them 
 come rapidly along the road from Allapoor. I knew my lord's 
 piebald horse, and his elephant was following at a little distance. 
 We watched him till he was near the gate ; there were only a few of 
 us. There was no one present but a sentinel and one or two others, 
 and a Kullunder Fakeer had spread his carpet just within the walls, 
 and was crying, * Ulla dilaya to leonga ! ' as passengers threw their 
 cowrees to him. We were descending the steps to present our nuz- 
 zurs, when several of the men behind dragged the Wuzeer from his 
 horse, and others on foot, who had been running with him, killed him 
 with a hundred wounds ere he could cry out. What could we do, 
 my lord ? Ere we could mount the bastion again the whole had dis- 
 persed. We fired on them, but it was no use." 
 
 *' And what became of the Fakeer ? " asked the King, looking 
 towards the Secretary. 
 
 " My prince, he stayed with the body, and shut the eyes," replied 
 the man. " Then, as the Wuzeer's elephant arrived, he told the 
 driver to take up the dead, and we saw him go towards the mosque, 
 crying, as before, ' Ulla dilaya to leonga ! ' Hark ! " he continued, 
 " there he is." 
 
 " Ulla dilaya to leonga ! Ulla dilaya to leonga ! " The cry came 
 nearer and nearer, never changing or faltering in its cadence or time 
 — heard above all other noises and confusion within and without — 
 "Ulla dilaya to leonga!" — up the steps, along the great corridor, 
 into the hall, where every one made way before the brawny form and 
 excited looks of the crier — who paused not, nor yet looked right or 
 left, till he reached the dais. Afzool Khan and Fazil would have 
 stopped him, but he strode on. 
 
 "Ulla dilaya to leonga!" he cried, looking at the King without 
 saluting him. ^ " Khan Mahomed is dead, from a hundred wounds. 
 As I closed his eyes I saw this on the ground ; it had fallen from 
 him, so I have brought it ; " and flinging a case, containing papers, 
 to the King, he turned away without salutation ; shouting the old, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 263 
 
 cry with his right arm] bare, and stretched high above his head, he 
 strode ont of the hall, continuing it as he passed out of the building 
 through the attendants and troops, and so away. 
 
 " Among these papers," said the Secretary, whispering to the 
 King, '' are many which, if now disclosed, might make men despe- 
 rate ; they are better kept secret." 
 
 " I am weary of them all," cried the King impatiently ; " look at 
 the judgment of God ; we should own it reverently." 
 
 " Zoolm ! Zoolm ! " (injustice !) cried a knot of men who had 
 collected at one side of the hall, and had risen from their seats. " Is 
 murder to be done, and pass unchallenged ? " Their tone was fierce 
 and defiant, and boded no good. 
 
 " Peace, O friends ! " cried Afzool Khan, stretching out his hands 
 to them. " Is this a time for strife ? who can say by whose hands 
 he died ? Yet better dead, than for this guilt to be proved before 
 all, by these witnesses — his own hand and seals. O friends, brothers 
 in the faith ! there is the throne we have to defend, and we should 
 count it holy martyrdom to die before it. We are ready ; will ye be 
 tardy?" 
 
 "JDeen, Deen! listen to Afzool Khan! Futteh-i-Nubbee !" (Victory 
 to the Prophet) the Khan's battle-cry, was shouted with deafening 
 clamour. " Death to the unbelievers ! " 
 
 " Silence, friends ! " cried the Peer, as there was a short cessation 
 of the shouting ; " listen to me. One traitor is dead, but are we 
 less than men that we permit Sivaji Bhoslay, his accomplice, to 
 defile our beards ? Deen, Deen ! cry to God for victory. Deen, 
 Deen ! " he continued, rising and raising his voice to a shrill scream, 
 as he stretched out his arms, " the Prophet hears us, and Ali, and 
 the holy martyrs, and so will ye be martyrs and enjoy paradise if ye 
 die." 
 
 Again, again his cry was raised, the fanatical cry of Islam, which 
 no Moslem can hear without emotion^fand grave men hitherto 
 unmoved, roused with the rest to frantic enthusiasm by the holy 
 man's words, threw themselves on each other's necks and wept 
 aloud. 
 
 " And now, friends," continued the King, when he could be heard, 
 " let him who would punish Sivaji Bhoslay for a thousand crimes 
 and treacheries, take up the gage I place here. In the name of God 
 and the Prophet, let who will take it, I accept him ;" and so saying 
 he motioned to an attendant, who, bringing foward a salver covered 
 with a brocaded cloth, set it down on the edge of the dais before the 
 King, and uncovered it. 
 
 On the salver lay a single birra of Pan, covered with gold leaf, 
 one of those which, on the conclusion of the ceremony, would be 
 distributed by thousands. Who would take it up ? 
 
264 TAEA : 
 
 " Are ye laggards, my friends, in pursuit of honour ? I thought 
 yonder gage would be a mark for men to strive for ; are ye laggards, 
 faithful ?" cried the Peer. 
 
 The mass — for every one had risen to his feet — swayed to and fro 
 with emotion, but no one advanced ; and out of it issued the hoarse 
 ominous murmur that had several times arisen, and which, in the 
 absence of any decisive action, caused involuntary apprehension. 
 
 At this moment Afzool Khan stepped boldly forward, and taking 
 up the gage, pressed it to his forehead, eyes, and lips, then, saluting 
 the King, held it high above his head for all to see. 
 
 " My prince, it is mine," he said, " if it be permitted, and if these 
 my friends will join me." 
 
 " Ye have heard," said the King, turning to the assembly, " I 
 accept him." 
 
 It was the crowning point of the ceremony, and the people, no 
 longer withheld by court etiquette, swayed forward to the foot of 
 the dais with tumultuous shouts of joy. Those without only knew 
 that war had been proclaimed, and their cries mingled hoarsely 
 with the rest. 
 
 " It is well this should cease, my lord," said the Secretary. " Men's 
 hearts are hot, and enough hath been done to-day." 
 
 " Grood," replied the King, "let the criers proclaim the Burkhast ; 
 and that there will be preaching in the Jumma Mosque daily, at 
 noon, till the army advances." 
 
 "Be that my care," said the Peer, "and their hearts shall be 
 kept hot, I promise you." 
 
 It was done. Attendants went round with trays of Pan, reserv- 
 ing Utr and other sweet essences for those privileged to receive 
 them. The King sat to the last, and the great Hall was gradually 
 emptied, save of the royal guards, — Afzool Khan and his son, — 
 Alia ool Moolk, and other nobles, who had been desired to remain. 
 The Kotwal's fate was yet in suspense. 
 
 " Bring forward Jehandar Beg," cried the King to the officer of 
 the guard ; and the prisoner was again conducted to the front of 
 the dais, around which the nobles were now grouped. He saw no 
 hope in those stern, pitiless faces. 
 
 " See what that case of papers contains, Meerza Sahib," said the 
 King ; " there should be no mistake in this matter." 
 
 " There is no need," said the Kotwal, sullenly, to the King. " If 
 you had died to-day, those who brought me here would ere now 
 have been headless corpses. I will answer no more questions. Do 
 with me as you will; except in prayer, my lips open no more." 
 
 " Take him away to death," said the King. " A kingdom that 
 never punishes is too weak to exist." " 
 
 Jehandar Beg was led away through the private cloisters. His 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 265 
 
 liead had fallen upon his bosom ; bnt those who saw it never forgot 
 the fire which seemed to flash from his large eyes, and the scowl 
 of deadly hate which he cast u^Don all around him as he walked 
 firmly on. 
 
 " We may now separate," said the King. " Forgive me, O friends, 
 who have as yet known me only as a boy playing about your knees, 
 if I have acted weakly in this first rough lesson of life. O noble 
 Khan, there are those who await you with tears of joy. What 
 can I say for this service you have done ? This sword is known 
 to you ; wear it for the sake of Adil Khan. And do thou, Fazil 
 Khan, take these, the first marks of honour thou hast won ; but, 
 Inshalla ! not the last ; " and removing the costly jewel from his 
 turban, and a heavy necklace of pearls from his neck, he invested 
 the young man with them with his own hands. 
 
 " I have but one boon to ask, my prince," said Fazil; "it is for 
 my friend, the Wuzeer's son. I will answer for him with my life, 
 that he was as true as I am. May I console him ? " 
 
 " Take this to him," said the King, removing a gold ring from 
 his wrist ; " tell him that from Adil Shah he need fear nothing." 
 
 " Altogether," said our friend the Lalla, who had accompanied 
 the Khan and Fazil, " these Dekhanies have some method in their 
 rudeness ; but, after all, they are mad, — quite mad. Such ebulli- 
 tions of temper could not have been allowed in the Padshah's court. 
 Mobaruk, mobaruk bad, Khan Sahib," he cried, heartily yet respect- 
 fully, to Afzool Khan and Fazil, as they were passing out and 
 receiving the warm greetings of their friends, — and of all, high and 
 low, who could reach them, — " let your poor servant be honoured 
 by his congratulation being accepted." 
 
 " Ah, friend, art thou there ? " repUed the Khan. " Well, thou 
 must be seen to ; come to my house and we will arrange something 
 for thee." 
 
 " May it please my lord to make me news- writer to his army," 
 cried the Lalla, joining his hands. " My style, Inshalla ! — is " 
 
 "Well," said Afzool Khan, interrupting him good-humouredly. 
 *' Son, wilt thou have him ? " 
 
 " I agree, father," said Fazil, smiling, " if he will serve under one 
 who may, after all, be only a Gosai." 
 
 " 1 am my lord's slave to death. I am but a poor Khayet, but 
 I can be of use to a discerning patron," returned the Lalla. 
 
 " Come, son," said the Khan, " let us see whether Kowas Khan be 
 returned. The King's message should be delivered ere we proceed 
 home. Methinks he and all his people would be safer with us for 
 a few days, until men's minds are calmer." 
 
 We will not follow the Khan on his benevolent errand ; nor can 
 we detail how much mustard and coriander seed were burned with 
 
266 TABA : 
 
 frankincense before them to avert evil when they reached home : nor 
 yet how often Groolab, and the other women- servants, and even the 
 lady Lnrlee herself, cracked their knuckles over them, till they would 
 crack no more. One thing, however, was certain : the worthy lady 
 was more than ever assured that she had read the planets aright, and, 
 if she had not done so, a great evil would have befallen the family. 
 
 CHAPTER XLY. 
 
 Somewhat later in the day, a few groups of men were assembled 
 near those majestic Adansonian trees which still stand by the wayside 
 between the Citadel and the outer gate of the fort of Beejapoor. 
 The sun's rays fell slanting through their dense foliage, and cast 
 broad shadows upon the bright green sward, which, with the trees 
 themselves, glowed in the evening light. The wind had fallen, and 
 not a leaf stirred in the oppressive sultry calm which prevailed. 
 
 On one side, upon a piece of faded carpet, torn and ragged, sat 
 a Fakeer, to all appearance, with long matted hair streaming over 
 his shoulders to his waist, and over his face also, so as partly to 
 conceal it. Some coarse rags hung loosely about him, but he wore 
 the tall felt cap of the Kullunders, and their quilted robe thrown 
 over his shoulders. He sat upon his heels, leaning upon a bright 
 steel rod with prongs at the end, which might serve either for 
 support or defence, and spoke to no one ; but now and again a low 
 cry of " Ulla dilaya to leonga," was rather muttered than cried 
 aloud. A few copper coins and cowries, which had been thrown to 
 him by passers-by, lay on the carpet. 
 
 At a little distance from him were two parties of armed men — 
 some Mussulmans, some Hindus — standing, lounging on the grass, 
 and speaking carelessly together. One of these, from his dress and 
 hair, seemed to be of more pretension than the rest, and might be 
 the Jemadar, or sub-officer of the party, and was attended by two 
 men armed with "Puttas," long, broad Toledo blades, set in steel 
 gauntlets inlaid with silver, which hung at their backs, the hilts 
 projecting over their shoulders. These men were both short, with 
 round backs, and very powerful frames ; and, from this brief 
 description, our previous acquaintance with them under the banian 
 tree will be remembered. 
 
 '* Perhaps they have pardoned him, after all, and let him go," said 
 Rama. *' The King is young, and soft as a woman ; and what will 
 the uncle yonder say to that, I wonder ? " 
 
 "Impossible," replied Lukshmun ; " I was behind the guards all 
 the time, and heard Jehandar Beg ordered for execution under the 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 267 
 
 Groruk Imlee. No, the King was as firm as our uncle when 
 
 Look ! what is that ? Can it be thej ? " 
 
 As he spoke, a small procession was seen approaching, a litter 
 tied up as though a lady were within ; a few footmen ran beside it, 
 and a few horsemen rode before and behind. Unobtrusive in 
 character, its movements were nevertheless followed with the 
 gi'eatest interest bj the men we have mentioned, and even the 
 Fakeer looked aside to watch it. 
 
 At first it seemed to be proceeding by the road in the direction of 
 the outer gate ; but as it arrived opposite the trees, the leading 
 horsemen turned suddenly across the sward and halted under them, 
 followed by the bearers, who at once hastily put down the litter 
 and retired apart. The leader of the party drew up his own men at 
 a little distance, while the footmen were directed to remove the 
 cover of the litter. As they did so, the person within, who was 
 pinioned, put his feet out of it, and stood up. 
 
 '* Where is Hoosein, the executioner ? " cried the officer ; "he was 
 ordered to be here ; and this is no time for delay. Have any of ye 
 seen him ? " he asked of the people around. 
 
 Some one answered, " He is not here ; " and another cried care- 
 lessly, " Hoosein does not like doing service for his own master ; ** 
 and a third called out sneeringly, " You will find him drunk in the 
 bazar by this time ; go and look there." 
 
 "God forbid," said the officer, impatiently; "go, some of you, 
 and see if he be coming in any direction ; " and several of the 
 horsemen dashed off at full speed. 
 
 "Enough, sir," said Jehandar Beg, sadly; " a keen sword is all 
 that is needed ; and ye are soldiers. Loose my hands, I pray ye, 
 that I may say my last prayer before I die. . . . Peace for a while, 
 Syn," he continued to the Fakeer, whose chant had increased to a 
 solemn wail ; " here is something for thee. See thou to my grave, 
 and to the Fatehas after death. This will be enough, perhaps," 
 he continued, with a sad smile, throwing some gold coins to the 
 man, which lighted upon his carpet, but were not noticed. 
 
 " Ulla dilaya to leonga ! " was the only reply ; but the tone, 
 which had been raised as Jehandar Beg appeared, now subsided 
 into a low murmur. 
 
 "Let it be here," said Jehandar Beg, stepping forward to a piece 
 of smooth turf under one of the huge branches. " Will any one 
 lend me a scarf ? Stay, this will do," he continued, loosing his own 
 shawl from his waist ; " when I am dead, give it. to the Durwaysh 
 yonder." Then he spread it out on the ground, and knelt down 
 upon it, with his face towards Mecca, settling the cap upon his 
 head, smoothing his long curly beard, and the . glossy brown curls 
 which fell upon his neck. " There is no use asking for water 
 
268 TAEA 
 
 for ablution," he muttered, " this will suffice ; " and taking up a 
 little dry earth, he rubbed his hands with it, allowing the dust to 
 fall over his elbows. 
 
 Jehandar Beg looked once more around ere he began his prayer ; 
 above, to the stately trees, and their heavy foliage, among which 
 a flock of noisy parroquets were fluttering from branch to branch, 
 and screaming loudly ; over the green sward, to the King's fort 
 and palaces, on which, and upon the noble dome of the mausoleum 
 of Mahmood Adil Shah, his first benefactor and patron, the mellow 
 light of evening rested in a golden radiance, and away over trees, 
 gardens, and minarets, all glowing in the same soft beauty ; then upon 
 the group around him, for a few chance passengers, seeing what was 
 to happen, had gathered round the spot. 
 
 A shiver seemed to pass through him as he closed his eyes slowly. 
 Not of fear, for the man, a Fatalist by creed and habit, was meeting 
 his doom stoically as a brave Moslem can do ; but a thought had 
 crossed him which would not be put back — a vision of love and peace 
 — of his girl wife in her rosy beauty, and of her fair boy, far away 
 at his own village and home, in the blue mountains of Khorassan — 
 and of a fond aged mother who lived with them. This season they 
 were to have come to him. Who now would tell them of his fate ? 
 
 "A word, Jemadar," he said to the oJ0S.cer. "Bid that Fakeer 
 come hither." 
 
 " Thou wilt do it," he said, as the man rose and advanced, " for 
 the sake of the gold. Grive this ring to Afzool Khan — my worst 
 enemy in life, and yet the truest man in Beejapoor — and these papers; 
 he will know what to write to my — my — to my house. And now, 
 friends, peace, and the peace of Grod and the love of the Prophet be 
 with ye ! When I have said the prayer, I would die." 
 
 It was finished, but as yet no executioner had arrived. Jehandar 
 Beg sat resting .upon his heels, his eyes closed, while his beads passed 
 rapidly through his fingers as his lips moved in prayer. 
 
 " We cannot delay," cried the tfemadar to those around, " will 
 none of ye strike a blow for the King ? Here is the] warrant, and 
 here is a bag of money for any who will earn it." 
 
 "Go thou, Rama," said Lukshmun, nudging his brother, "thou 
 art a surer hand with the ' Putta ' than I am ; but if thou wilt not, I 
 will try mine on that rascal, who hath strung up many a better fellow 
 than himself on these trees. Hast thou forgotten what he did to 
 our people?" 
 
 " Yes," added Gopal Singh ; " go, Rama, and end this play. See 
 thou do it well, and they will give thee the money. Go ! " 
 
 " If the uncle wills it," said Rama, hitching forward his long 
 weapon, as he looked for a moment to the Fakeer, who bowed his 
 head, imperceptibly to others, yet intelligibly to them, as he repeated 
 
A MAERATTA TALK 261> 
 
 his cry. "Yes, I will do it," and drawing tlie broad blade, on wliich 
 the sun's rays flaslied brightly, he felt its edge, then put his hand 
 into the gauntlet which reached to his elbow, and fastened the straps 
 over his wrist and arm carefully. He now advanced lightly, with 
 circling steps, flourishing the heavy weapon, as though it had been 
 a stick, round and round his head ; yet, with every sweep, it was. 
 clear that he was measuring his distance more carefully. Another 
 moment — a bright flash in the air — a whistling sound as the sword 
 clove it — and the head of Jehandar Beg rolled to the ground, the lips 
 still moving with the prayer which he had not finished, while the 
 trunk fell forward quivering. 
 
 "The second to-day," said Rama, muttering to himself, as he wiped 
 his sword on the sward. " Enough, enough ! " 
 
 *' Soobhan Ulla ! " exclaimed the Jemadar. "A brave stroke^ 
 Thou shouldst be chief executioner thyself, friend." 
 
 "That is my brother, noble sir," said Lukshmun, interrupting the 
 speaker, "and he does not like being spoken to after he has cut off a 
 man's head. Give me the money. Jemadar Sahib, and let us begone; 
 you see he is cleaning his sword ; he might dirty it again if he were 
 vexed." 
 
 " Take it, friend," returned the officer, "and away with ye, for 
 yonder is Hoosein Jullad coming, and ye may perchance quarrel 
 over it. Begone ! " 
 
 " Bid him and his party watch here till I bring men to bury the 
 dead," said the seeming Fakeer, who had again risen and advanced, 
 and;who, having removed the bloody shawl, was rolling it up. "Watch 
 with them, even though it should be night. This gold will suffice for 
 all, and I will return." So saying, he stalked away rapidly in the direc- 
 tion of the fort, while his strange cry changed — " Ulla dilaya to leea, 
 Ulla dilaya to leea ! " (Grod gave and I took, God gave and I took !) 
 
 " Sir, here are the executioner's men, and they will watch ; we 
 need not stay," said one of the soldiers to their officer. "Let us go."" 
 
 The litter was taken up, the soldiers moved rapidly away, and 
 there remained only the watchers and two women, wrapped closely 
 in heavy sheets, who had not been previously noticed, and wha 
 sat cowering behind one of the giant trunks, sobbing bitterly. Per- 
 haps ; but no matter now. 
 
 The sun was sinking fast, and its rays fell upon a pool of blood, 
 glistening, as it dried among the blades of the close sward, — upon a 
 ghastly head, its face turned upwards to the sky, — and a headless 
 trunk beside it, from which the crimson stream was still oozing.. 
 Above, on the high bare branches, sat foul birds and ravens, which 
 had already scented the blood, and whose hoarse croaks mingled with 
 the heavy rustle of the wings of vultures, assembling for a night, 
 feast ; — no unusual matter, perhaps, in that place. 
 
270 TARA : 
 
 ^'A Fakeer says lie must see yon, my lord," said Groolab to Afzool 
 Khan, as he sat quietly in his accustomed seat after the evening 
 prayer. "He is in the court at the door, and will take no denial. He 
 will not go away, but cursed frightfully when we said you were tired, 
 and were resting in private." 
 
 *' A Fakeer, Goolab ! Do you know him ? " 
 
 " All he says, master, is ' UUa dilaya to leea,' " replied the woman, 
 " and he declared he would cut himself with a knife and throw his 
 blood upon us if we did not tell you. Hark ! there is a shout." 
 
 " Ulla dilaya to leea ! " 
 
 The Khan did not delay. " I know him, Goolab," he said. "Go, 
 and say I come." 
 
 "Bid every one depart hence," said the man as Afzool Khan 
 approached him, attended by several servants. "What I have to say 
 to thee brooks no listeners. There," he continued, when all had 
 gone ; and flinging down the bloody scarf at the Khan's feet, "look, 
 it is his blood who^ would have been true, but for him who went to 
 hell before him. Here is his last request to thee, Afzool Khan, for 
 he trusted thee only, of all this city. Take them, I have done his 
 last bidding." 
 
 " His seal and these papers, Syn. More treason, perhaps. Did 
 he say aught of them ? " said the Khan. 
 
 " Only that they belonged to his house, and I should give them to 
 you ; and he died like a brave man as he was." 
 
 " Yes, as he was, Syn," echoed the Khan sadly — "as he was. And 
 thou hast buried him ? Else " 
 
 " I have cared for that ; it doth not concern thee. Khan." 
 
 " And who art thou, Syn ? We have met before to-day." 
 
 " Ay, Khan, and before that often. Am I safe with thee ? Put 
 thy hand on my head ; nay, fear not a poor servant of God, and I 
 will tell thee who I am." 
 
 " Surely, friend," replied Afzool Khan, putting out his hand upon 
 the high felt cap, "fear not." 
 
 " Not there, not there ; on my head," cried the man, grasping the 
 Khan's hand, and kissing it while he removed the cap ; "on my head, 
 on my head. Ask Ali Adil Shah of me, and remember — Pahar 
 Singh." 
 
 " Pahar Singh ! " exclaimed the Khan, starting back. 
 
 "Hush, fear not; I have been pardoned, and the Shah's hand hath 
 been before thine on his head ; fear not, I will be true to thee, for 
 thou art faithful to him. Thy hand once more. Khan, freely and 
 truly upon my head." 
 
 " Go, friend," said Afzool Khan, placing it as he desired. " Go, I 
 doubt thee not, for I have heard what happened last night ; go in 
 peace. Whatever thou canst do for the Shah will not be forgotten." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 271 
 
 "There is yet one more work to-day ere I sleep, Kkan — one more, 
 and I go to do it. God be with yon." 
 
 As he departed, the men on guard would have stopped him, but 
 again the old cry arose, and in his assumed character no one molested 
 him, as the shout, rising and falling on the air, died away in the far 
 distance. 
 
 Af zool EHian took up the bloody scarf and gave it to an attendant. 
 " Let it be washed, and kept till I ask for it," he said. Not long 
 atf erwards some Persian merchants were returning to their country, 
 and they bore the last requests of the unhappy Jehandar Beg, with 
 such monies as could be saved out of his property, to his family. 
 
 That evening the crypt under the old tomb was again empty. 
 Maloosray's scouts had brought him the news of Bulwunt Rao having 
 sarvived his wound; and of the occurrences in the Durbar of the King, 
 of which he had- been advised by the Brahmun we have seen in 
 communication with Jehandar Beg. Watching from the terrace of 
 the temple, he had seen the Wuzeer's arrival at Allapoor ; followed 
 his course across the plain ; and guessed, by the confusion and shots 
 at the gate, and the dispersion of the horsemen with him, that some- 
 thing extraordinary had taken place, the particulars of which, and 
 of the subsequent execution of Jehandar Beg, were related by his 
 scouts. Under the presence of Pahar Singh, therefore, Beejapoor 
 was no longer safe ; and as night closed, the whole party, unobserved, 
 left their hiding-place to its usual tenants, the jackals and hyenas of 
 the plain. 
 
 CHAPTER XLYL 
 
 As night fell, and as Maloosray knew all the Mahomedans would be 
 engaged in their evening prayer, his little party emerged from the 
 crypt, and took their way westward across the plain, avoiding the 
 suburbs, and threading the narrow lanes among the fields, which on 
 all sides skirted the city. One by one his followers and scouts had 
 been despatched in advance to meet them at certain places ; and a 
 spot known to all, where the great northern and western roads 
 diverged, was fixed upon as a final place of rendezvous. Thither, 
 also, had been despatched the wounded man, Ranojee, vfho, unable 
 to ride far at a time, was to proceed by easy stages with the scouts 
 and other servants to Jatt, the chieftain of which town was a 
 sincere adherent to their cause. 
 
 Maloosray himself, taking ISTettajee, and the chief scout Ramjee 
 with two others, to serve as grooms, had determined to visit Toolja- 
 poor before he returned to his master. There were many active 
 
272 TARA: 
 
 partisans of weiglit in tlie Bala Ghaut ; what had thej determined 
 npon, and what was his old friend Jeswnnt Rao Bhoslaj of Sind- 
 phul doing ? It was impossible to write, and as long as personal 
 commnnication fcan be insured, Mahrattas never write letters. It 
 was above all things necessary that Moro Trimmnl and Jeswnnt 
 Rao must have the first news of the Wuzeer's death ; and except it 
 were reported bj royal express to the camp at Nnldroog, it could 
 hardly be known at Tooljapoor next day. It was a long ride, 
 certainly, but it was possible to reach Tooljapoor, and to secure 
 Moro Trimmul's safety, in case it should be threatened. 
 
 The occurrences at Beejapoor had been very unexpected by 
 Maloosray. At first sight they appeared to be a sore discourage- 
 ment to the plans which had been almost matured ; and for some 
 time he rode in silence, brooding over the catastrophe we have 
 recorded. He could not account for it. To all appearance the 
 Kins: and the Wuzeer had been on excellent terms, and Jehdndar 
 Beg their confidant ; yet in one day both had been destroyed, and 
 the party of Afzool Khan had suddenly become the leading one in 
 the State. Was he ambitious, he might be prime minister. In his 
 heart Maloosray acknowledged his fitness for the post. I^o other 
 person would command the allegiance of the army, with whom 
 Khan Mahomed had not been popular. " It will unite in the Khan, 
 and we shall have enough to do to escape it," he thought, "but the 
 young tree will bend to the storm when the old one will break, and 
 we may find opportunity to strengthen ourselves, while we do not 
 weaken the royal house." 
 
 Now the moon shone out brightly. There had been no rain since 
 the storm of the previous night. The day had been hot and sultry; 
 but as the night fell, a delicious breeze, soft and cool, had succeeded 
 the calm of the evening, and the road was sufficiently dry to be 
 travelled without inconvenience. Maloosray's noble mare seemed 
 to feel, with her master, the invigorating effects of freedom of 
 action, — and her light and springy movements, which conveyed to 
 the rider an involuntary assurance of activity and endurance, ex- 
 cited within him a more hopeful spirit than that with which he had 
 quitted the city. Now and again, as they passed some muddy 
 rivulet, or stony portion of the road, a word of encouragement 
 or caution from her rider wonld be answered by a low whinny, 
 which was followed by a loving caress of her arched neck, and thus 
 a perfect accordance seemed to be established between them. 
 
 "Shall we reach the river before daylight, Sidda," said Maloosray 
 to his guide ; " and can we get the boat ? Will it be on this 
 side?" 
 
 " The boatmen are all friends of mine, master," replied the man, 
 "and will cross me at any village or at any time ; fear not, I will say 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 273 
 
 I have dispatcTies, and they believe in this stick that I am on the 
 royal service. No one will dare to stop one of the royal Hurkaras 
 with this as his warrant;" and as he spoke he flourished the weapon 
 — a short stout staff, gaily lacquered in rings of red, yellow, and 
 black, with a heavy tuft of black cotton yarn at the end, from 
 whence projected a formidable four-sided lance about a foot long, 
 the point of which was carefully sharpened — lightly round his 
 head. 
 
 They rode on, keeping the main track ; now and again passing 
 villages, where they were saluted by a chorus of barks and howls 
 from the village dogs ; again traversing long intervals between 
 others, where the occasional piping of sleepless plovers, the wailing 
 cries of ever- wakeful restless lapwings, and an occasional burst of 
 howls and screams from packs of wandering jackals, — were the only 
 sounds which fell on their ears in those solitudes. 
 
 They met no one at that hour, but they did not pass the villages, 
 lying upon the road, unremarked. Here a shrill challenge was 
 blown upon a horn as they passed a gate ; there a drum was beaten, 
 and other indications given of the village watch being on the alert, 
 or a shot was fired from a bastion or watch-tower, the bullet of 
 which sung harmlessly above their heads into the air. They were 
 rough times those, when men ploughed with their fire-arms slung 
 at their backs, and when the village cattle, while grazing, had to be 
 guarded by parties of matchlock men against the raids of more 
 powerful neighbours. 
 
 The raoon set soon after midnight, and the wind again arose, 
 sighing as it swept across the broad plains in fitful gusts, or rusthng 
 among the tall fields of grain which bordered the road. Light 
 clouds, too, were rising from the westward, and hurrying across the 
 face of the sky, partly obscured the stars, and caused additional 
 gloom. Under other guidance Maloosray would have felt uncertain 
 of the path ; but the Hurkara never diverted from the track, or 
 slackened his pace; and the party passed on unnoticed, at the 
 greatest speed that the light and the road would admit of, without 
 distressing their horses. 
 
 As they ascended one of the long undulating eminences, which 
 are the characterizing features of the country, and which com- 
 manded a view for some miles around, Maloosray*s attention 
 was attracted by a light which, emerging from behind some grain 
 fields from another direction, was advancing rapidly towards 
 them, and apparently would cross the road a little in advance of 
 them. It was evidently a torch, possibly that of some travellers ; 
 yet it moved too swiftly and regularly for men on foot ; and to the 
 keen practised ear of Maloosray himself, as well as of his followers, 
 the tread of a body of horse was heard, while the slight occasional 
 
274 TABA 
 
 sparkles from weapons, and tlie dull red glow of matclies, were soon 
 distinctly visible. 
 
 Could they have been followed ? Had any one remarked their 
 departure from the city ? The little party halted at once, and drew 
 up out of the track of the road to escape observation, and watched 
 the movement of the light before them with beating hearts. Nor 
 were they loiig in suspense. After disappearing for a moment in a 
 hollow, the light appeared again upon the road itself, and the body 
 of horse, which might be fifty or more, drew up across their way 
 and halted. 
 
 Who could they be? Certain it was that the party was now 
 posted there to waylay some one who was expected, and the in- 
 formation they were acting upon was apparently as sure as their 
 movements were methodical. ISTot a neigh escaped their horses, 
 nor was there any commotion apparently among the men. The 
 place chosen was admirably adapted for a surprise. The road, as 
 we have said, led up a slight ascent or spur of an undulation, the 
 sides of which broke into small but rough ravines and watercourses 
 intermixed with large loose boulders of basalt, difficult to be tra- 
 versed on horseback even by day, and quite impassable by night. 
 These features were the same on both sides ; and the spur itself was 
 a narrow neck, which widened, as the plain above stretched out, 
 into one of the usual broad expanses of waste and cultivated lands. 
 
 " They have come by Hortee," said the Hurkara in a whisper — 
 " the village there in the hollow — and are waiting for some one. 
 Master, dost thou fear them? — they will hardly molest travellers 
 such as we are. Shall we go on ? " 
 
 It was a difficult point to decide. There was certainly no way of 
 avoiding them and yet keeping the road. 
 
 "Go, E/amjee," said Maloosray to his scout; "go and see who 
 they are. Be careful ! my mind misgives me about them." 
 
 " Master," replied the man, " this ground is higher than theirs, 
 and if they put out the light they will see thee against the sky. 
 Retire a little lower, and Enkoba and I will find it all out for you." 
 Maloosray saw the intelligence of the advice, and acted promptly 
 upon it, while the two men, well accustomed to such proceedings, 
 crept warily along under cover of bushes and inequalities of the 
 ground, till they entered a tall field of grain, in which they could 
 move without chance of observation up to the very party itself, and 
 from which they looked with safety upon the horsemen. 
 
 As they had supposed, the body was drawn up across the road. 
 One flank overlapped the cornfield, on the jDath by which they had 
 come ; the other rested upon a declivity where the same path de- 
 scended to the westward. It was clear that the position could not 
 be turned without great risk, and it was impossible to say whether 
 the path to Hortee might not be guarded also. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 275 
 
 In front of the party, and near a man wlio held a torch which he 
 replenished with oil from time to time, were two persons mounted 
 on powerful horses, whose wet coats and panting flanks showed that 
 they had been ridden at a rapid rate ; and it was also evident from 
 the condition of the rest, splashed with mnd and with similar 
 evidences of fatigue, that, whatever might be the object, speed had 
 not been spared in its pursuit. 
 
 "They cannot pass this unobserved;" said the elder of the two, 
 " and there can be no suspicion that we are on this road. Ah, there 
 is no such trap, boy, in the country,* not a rat could get by it. Well, 
 we have not been idle ; first Khan Mahomed, second the Kotwal, and 
 nowMaloosray and his friend Nettajee." 
 
 " You have not got them yet," thought Ramjee, " and Tannajee is 
 not game for you, old fox. But for him, my dagger would have 
 made acquaintance with you that day in the Gosai's Mutt at Toolja- 
 poor. Ah ! who could have told him of us ? '' 
 
 "I think, uncle, we had as well put out the torch," said a man, 
 coming forward, riding a tall grey mare. " Tannajee is not a moth 
 to fly into a candle." 
 
 " Good, Lukshmun," said the chief; "put it out." 
 " I think we were wrong, father," said the other leader ; " a few 
 men would have surrounded that den under the tomb, and no one 
 could have escaped." 
 
 " True ; but you would not have taken Tannajee alive, and here he 
 will be helpless. No, it is better as it is ; and he shall sit under the 
 Goruk Imlees, and die like Jehandar Beg, before me." 
 
 " And Bama shall help him on his way to the gods, master, if you 
 like," said Lukshmun. " He says he is quite ready, and he got the 
 Putta sharpened again." 
 
 " Silence ! " said the chief, as the light was extinguished, "not a 
 word must be spoken now, nor a horse stir. Be careful, all of ye." 
 
 The scouts had seen and heard enough. The rustling of the high 
 corn-stalks and their leaves, under the breeze, prevented their return 
 through them being heard, and in a few moments they had rejoined 
 Maloosray, who, with Nettajee, had descended the brow of the ascent 
 for a few paces, and could not be seen from above. 
 
 "Master," whispered the scout, " 'tis the Old Lion, Pahar Singh, 
 and his cub, Gopal, and their men. I saw one of the hunchbacks, 
 too, with them." 
 
 " Ha ! the Old Lion thinks to have a feast to-day, Nettajee," said 
 Maloosray, " but the man is yet to be born who will take Tannajee 
 alive. And what did he say, Bamjee ? " 
 
 " He said you should be taken alive, and that you should sit under 
 the Goruk Imlees, and have your head cut off, like Jehandar Beg, by 
 Bama the hunchback." 
 
276 TABA 
 
 *' All," said Tannajee, " he sliould not have brought a torch with 
 6.im, Netta, else it was not ill-contrived. By the Holj Mother, there 
 had been small chance for us had we got among them. And now, 
 what is to be done ? " 
 
 " We must go back. Beyond the rivulet and the date grove 
 yonder is a path which leads to Boorga, and so to Churchan, if my lord 
 does not care for a few coss more," said the Hurkara; "and, after 
 all, it is as near as any other road to Mun droop." 
 
 " Good," said Tannajee ; "let us be quick, they may advance." 
 
 So they moved carefully down the descent, beyond which was a 
 small rivulet bordered by thin date trees and other brushwood. 
 *' See," said Netta, as they crossed the small stream, " we are but just 
 in time : there they are ! " and as Tannajee looked up, he saw several 
 figures projected in outline against the sky, one of whom was point- 
 ing to the road leading to Beejapoor. 
 
 "I thought the Old Lion had been more wary," he said, "than to 
 show himself in that manner ; but he may cool his heart now ; he had 
 better have made for the ferry ! " 
 
 It had, however, been a narrow escape, and one for which Tan- 
 najee vowed to feed a hundred Brahmuns at Tooljapoor ; but the 
 danger was past, and after a somewhat rough track for a short dis- 
 tance westward, the guide struck confidently into a broader road, 
 which, like the preceding, led northwards, and, as the day dawned, 
 the river-bank at the ferry beyond Churchan was safely reached. The 
 guide's staff of ofiice proved irresistible. In a few moments they were 
 seated in one of the large circular coracle baskets of wicker-work, 
 covered with hide, which serve as ferry-boats ; and with the two 
 mares swimming in front, and guided by the men who held them, 
 and the skilful paddles of three lusty rowers, the party crossed the 
 stream, and were beyond danger of pursuit. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 In his last letter to Beejapoor, Moro Trimmul had directed his agent 
 there to inform Maloosray that, at the day of which we write, there 
 would be recitations in the temple, and, under cloak of this, that 
 most of the heads of the Mahratta families were to assemble ; it 
 would, therefore, be advisable if he could meet them. It was partly 
 on this account, but most particularly because of the murder of 
 Khan Mahomed, that Tannajee had left the city so abruptly, and 
 ridden through the night without a check. 
 
 Nor did Tannajee and his companion take rest anywhere during 
 the day following, except for such refreshment as was absolutely 
 
p 
 
 A MAHRATTA TALE. 277 
 
 necessary. They avoided all large towns and villages; and, as 
 Tannajee knew the country perfectly by day, he guided his friend by 
 cross paths, frequently through fields and waste lands, till, as the 
 evening fell, they drew up before the gate of Sindphul, the village 
 below the pass of Tooljapoor, which we have before had occasion to 
 mention. 
 
 The owner, a distant relative of the Rajah Sivaji, by name 
 Jeswunt Rao Bhoslay, was an intimate friend of Maloosray's, and a 
 true and influential ally of the general cause in those districts. 
 Maloosray's sudden arrival surprised him little, for in consequence of 
 what Moro Trimmul had written, he had been expected ; and, after a 
 short conference, Maloosray urged that the news he had iDrought 
 should be communicated to Moro Trimmul and those assembled with 
 as little delay as possible, and in this Jeswunt Rao concurred. 
 
 So, after a slight rest and hearty meal, which both needed, the 
 stout ponies, provided by their host, were announced to be ready in 
 the courtyard of the house, and, accompanied by half -a- score of stout 
 sword-and- buckler men, with matchlocks and lighted matches, they 
 rode out of the village gate. 
 
 The active ponies, though well accustomed to the roagh mountain- 
 road, had paused for a moment to take breath on the level spot from 
 whence the buildings could be seen below — the glare of light, spread- 
 ing up both sides of the dell, revealing crag and rough wood, with 
 the gilded pinnacles of the temple glittering brightly through the 
 smoke of torches and of incense ; but their impatient riders again 
 urged them up the rocky ascent with all the speed they were capable 
 of exciting. At the town gate there was no hindrance, for Jeswunt 
 Rao was well known ; so they were admitted without dij0S.culty, and, 
 leaving the animals at a house which belonged to him, adjoining the 
 main street, the party proceeded at once in the direction of the 
 temple. 
 
 It was no easy matter, however, to get there. As they approached 
 the gate at the head of the steps descending into the ravine, and on 
 the steps themselves, the crowds were almost impassable, but good- 
 humour prevailed, and, after some struggles, the lower court and the 
 great assembly were safely reached. 
 
 It was a remarkable sight. The court itself was crowded with 
 spectators so closely packed that to move was impossible. They were 
 sitting upon the paved floor in rows facing the centre, where an open 
 space had been provided for the priests, and an avenue left for their 
 communication with the shrine. Around this the most distinguished 
 of the guests had been placed ; and Maloosray observed with satis- 
 faction, that many influential persons whom he desired to see, were 
 present. So far, his visit could not have been better timed. 
 
 All round the court were huge cressets of iron, fixed into brackets 
 
278 !rAEA : 
 
 in the walls and arches of the court. These were filled with cotton- 
 seed which, fed with oil from time to time, threw a broad glare upon 
 the people, and lighted up not only the temple and its quaint and 
 fanciful ornaments, but the buildings around, — and above, the crags 
 and precipices, with the houses hanging to them. 
 
 There was not a spot unoccupied ; even the ledges and projections 
 of the high pyramidal roof and spires of the temple were crowded^ 
 while the terraces of the vestibule and cloisters around, reserved for 
 the ladies of the Hindu gentry of the neighbourhood, and of the 
 chief visitors and priests, glowed with the gay colours of their 
 garments, which stood out against the dark background of the 
 mountain- side. 
 
 As the party advanced through the crowd, Moro Trimmul, who 
 was among the Brahmun reciters, saw the tall figure of Maloosray 
 behind that of Jeswunt Rao of Sindphul, who was struggling man- 
 fully with the crowd, and advanced hastily to greet him. He had 
 hardly expected so prompt a compliance with his request, but was 
 rejoiced that it had been made. He greeted Maloosray and Palkur 
 heartily, and led them to the reserved space, where, recognized by 
 many present, and speedily made known to others, they received a 
 hearty welcome, and took their seats. 
 
 A few words whispered, sufficed to explain to Moro Trimmul the 
 situation of affairs at Beejapoor, and the necessity for immediate 
 action. 
 
 *' We must dismiss the assembly earlier than usual,'' he said, in 
 reply to Maloosray's anxious question as to how long the ceremonies 
 would be continued, " and I will hasten what remains. Do not heed 
 me ; I have to take my part now, and as the assembly rises I will 
 rejoin you." 
 
 Thus saying, Moro Trimmul passed into the dark vestibule of the 
 temple, and was divesting himself of his upper garments and turban, 
 when, from a pillar behind, the girl Gunga came towards him. 
 
 " I have been searching for thee," she said ; " they wanted thee. 
 Where hast thou been so long ? " 
 
 " No matter where," he said gloomily. " Thou couldst have 
 found me without, if needful. What hast thou done ? " 
 
 "Nothing," she replied. "I cannot get speech of her, and the rest 
 will not join me ; they are afraid." 
 
 " So art thou, Gunga," he replied ; " afraid, afraid of a girl ? Ah, 
 coward and liar ! " 
 
 " Thou art afraid thyself, Moro Trimmul," she retorted. " Go I 
 take her away. There she stands, no one will prevent thee ; there, 
 by the door — alone." 
 
 Moro Trimmul stepped from behind the pillar, still keeping within 
 the gloom, and looked forward. Before the blaze bf the shrine, and 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 279 
 
 the lamps without it, stood Tara, in the act of bearing garlands of 
 flowers to the altar. A number of them were hanging upon her left 
 arm, while, with her right hand extended, she was delivering some 
 to the priest. 
 
 As she stood at the door, in the full glare of the lamps within, the 
 light fell upon her rich crimson silk drapery, its heavy borders and 
 ends of flowered gold, and the massive gold zone which confined it 
 round her waist ; while the attitude she had involuntarily assumed, 
 as she turned towards the shrine, showed the graceful outlines of her 
 figure to peculiar advantage. She had wreathed a long garland of 
 white flowers into her hair, which fell about her neck and bosom ; 
 and another was twisted round her brows, so as to form a coronet. 
 It was a fanciful but simple and beautiful decoration, which suited 
 the character of her small graceful head, and added to the charm of 
 her attire. 
 
 Moro Trimmul watched her intently as she dehvered the garlands 
 to the old priest ; then, as if a service had been done, she advanced 
 to the centre of the doorway, and, making a low reverence, stepped 
 aside and stood erect, looking into the vestibule in expectation, as it 
 were, of further devotees. Moro Trimmul could see the sweet mouth 
 parted in a smile, the pearly teeth glistening within the rosy lips, 
 and the soft eyes flashing as the strong side light fell upon them. 
 Beyond her the deep gloom of the recesses of the temple could not 
 be penetrated. So her figure stood out against it in a power of 
 effective relief which was almost startling. 
 
 It was a strange contrast. Within, the dreaded image, richly 
 attired and covered with priceless jewels, the tiara on its head, and 
 the weird ruby eyes, now sparkling brightly, now changing and 
 glowing fitfully amidst the clouds of incense which was burning 
 before it, and the black, stony, changeless features, seeming even to 
 vary in expression with the passing effects of light and shadow. 
 Without, Tara in her rich attire and glowing beauty, and that rapt 
 expression in her countenance, which the excitement of the scene and 
 the service of the " Holy Mother " had caused it to assume. 
 
 Moro Tiiimmul sighed. With all the fierce desire which burned 
 within him, and which now gave him no rest night or day, there was 
 mingled, curiously perhaps, a loving reverence for the girl, which, 
 as yet, had restrained him both from violence and insult. It might 
 be her character and position which had excited it, but rather, 
 perhaps, her own innate purity and modesty of mind, and the 
 charming simplicity of character, which he saw in daily exercise in 
 her house, that controlled the fiery passions of his nature and his 
 avowed unscrupulousness. 
 
 "If I were a man," sneered his companion, as she stood with him 
 concealed behind the large pillar, " I should not be a coward when 
 
280 TABA : 
 
 such a woman as that was burning at my heart. By the gods, she 
 is no woman, but an incarnation of beauty. Look at her now ! " 
 
 "Peace, devil," cried the Brahmun in a hoarse whisper; "hast 
 thou forgotten the gold, and thy promise by the Pap-nas ? " 
 
 "No, I have not forgotten," said Gunga, "I have part of it here;" 
 and she shook her foot, on which the gold anklets tinkled slightly ; 
 " and I want to change this silver thing round my waist for a zone 
 like hers yonder. Ah, how it glows among the rich silk ! But thou 
 art a coward, Moro Trimmul, else I had earned it long ago ; and I 
 could have helped thee." 
 
 "Go and speak to her, Gunga, and I will believe thee braver than 
 I am," he replied tauntingly. " If she cannot be spoken with, how 
 wilt thou earn the zone ? " 
 
 The girl regarded him with a look of defiance, and, without reply, 
 stepped forward into the light, advanced towards the shrine, making 
 a slight reverence to the image, glided forwards, and stood opposite 
 to Tara. 
 
 " Thou hast served many hours, sister," she said, in an assumed 
 voice of kindness, " and must be weary; sit down within for a while, 
 and I will do what is needed ; 'tis my office," she continued, laugh- 
 ing, "as well as thine." 
 
 Moro Trimmul marked the involuntary shudder of aversion which 
 spread over Tara's countenance, and the action of withdrawing the 
 skirts of her garment between her ankles, which accompanied it. 
 Then she spoke. 
 
 " I am not weary of the Mother's service ; when I am I will come 
 no more," she said gently. " Go away ; I will not speak with thee 
 or thy people, and that thou knowest full well ; go." 
 
 " And why shonld I go ? " cried Gunga, excitedly ; "am I not a 
 Moorlee like thyself, and have I not served the Mother longer than 
 thee ? To be sure, I am neither a Brahmun nor a widow to be nice 
 as thou art ; yet I bid thee go, and let me have my turn : thou hast 
 had more than thy share of money already to-day." 
 
 "It is all in the shrine before the Mother," said Tara, shrinking 
 from the bold glances and excited manner of the girl. " I have 
 taken none of it : I need it not." 
 
 " That does not matter," said Gunga ; " I will have my turn now. 
 Go away ; thou art not wanted. Those that will not dance before 
 the Mother are not worthy to serve her. Go, else some of us will 
 push thee out." 
 
 " Me ! " cried Tara, drawing up her slight figure proudly, her eyes 
 flashing, and her features quivering with indignation, — "me! you 
 dare not ; yoa are impure, and the Mother loathes you : touch me, 
 and she will strike you dead ! " 
 
 Gunga shrunk from the trial ; and others of her sisterhood, who 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 281 
 
 had stood apart ready to advance, slunk again into the gloom behind 
 the pillars. Gunga looked round as if for countenance, but no one 
 seemed disposed to join her, while the old priest at the altar, who 
 had caught the sound of voices, came to the door, and, seeing Gunga, 
 waved her off. 
 
 "Away with ye, and the like of ye ! '^ he cried. " Outside do as 
 ye please ; here ye are an offence. Away ! let her stay ; " and he 
 pointed to Tara. " Do not molest her." 
 
 " There is some spell about thee, Tara, which shuts my mouth ; 
 beware ! " muttered Gunga, retreating ; " it may not always be so." 
 
 " Bear me witness," said Tara to the old priest, *' she is threaten- 
 ing me." 
 
 "Ah, daughter," he replied, smiling, "fear not such as she; the 
 Mother is good to thee ; and they cannot harm thee so long as thou 
 art holy and pure." 
 
 "I did not tell thee to quarrel with her," said Moro Trimmul 
 angrily, seizing Gunga's arm as she approached, and dragging her 
 within the shadow of the pillar. " Art thou mad, or has any one 
 given thee drink, Gunga ? " 
 
 " I spoke to her kindly, which is more than thou darest to do," 
 retorted the girl sharply. " What answer did I get ? Pure ? Why 
 should she be pure ? I tell thee there is a spell about her neck — I 
 saw it glittering among the j&owers — which put me back : I could 
 not speak. Yes, Moro Trimmul, if it be only to put that spell under 
 my foot, and crush it with her throat, I will do it ; yes, I will earn 
 the gold ; let her see to herself." 
 
 " Good," he replied ; " then I can trust thee. Come to me to- 
 morrow, and fail not." And then, naked to the waist, with his soft 
 glossy hair falling over his shoulders, and his fine figure displayed to 
 the best advantage, Moro Trimmul passed out, and took his place 
 among the reciters. 
 
 Gunga's eyes followed him. " Drink ! " she muttered ; " drink ! 
 he said that. Well, better drink than this madness, which is worse." 
 And, sitting down, leaning against a pillar, she hid her face in her 
 garment, and sobbed bitterly. 
 
 Just then, one of the ordinary processions round the temple formed 
 opposite the shrine. Priests, bearing offerings of fl.owers and lighted 
 lamps, holy water and incense, preceded by musicians, and chanting 
 a hymn, passed out into the court. Several of the temple girls 
 were dancing before it; and Tara, led on by an excitement she could 
 not control, had seized a pair of cymbals, and began to clash them 
 in the cadence of the hymn as the procession moved. 
 
 Three times round and round did the priests pass, and at the 
 second Gunga joined it, dancing wildly and tossing her arms on 
 high as she circled with the rest. Tara, however, remained among 
 
282 TABA 
 
 the priests, singing witli them ; yet, in the elastic grace o£ her step^ 
 as well as in the expression of her face, it was evident that she 
 shared the fervour of the scene, and could not control herself, while 
 her clear ringing voice mingled sweetly with the deeper-toned chant 
 of the men. 
 
 Maloosray saw Tara, and watched the eyes of Moro Trimmul 
 wandering from one girl to the other with an intense expression of 
 passion. "Ah, my poor friend !" he said to himself, "that is the 
 devil sitting at thy heart, and looking out of thine eyes ! Alas ! 
 alas ! who is she — that girl ?" he asked of Jeswunt Rao, who sat 
 by him. 
 
 " She is our new Moorlee," replied the man ; " is she not beau- 
 tiful ?— But listen to Moro Trimmul." 
 
 CHAPTER XLYIII. 
 
 Never had the Brahmun's art been so effectively exercised by him 
 before. In the recitation of passages from the Ramayun his voice, 
 high and sonorous, pervading every portion of the court, delivered 
 the appeals to war, the description of the demigod's forces, and 
 portions of the battles, with a power which was listened to with 
 breathless interest ; while the pleadings of Seeta, the beloved wife, 
 and her passionate confessions of love, were accompanied by tender 
 actions, and tones as low and sweet as a woman's. Now rolled forth 
 the majestic Sanscrit verse in its measured numbers, and again it 
 was changed to the sweet Mahratta vernacular, that all could under- 
 stand. At every interval the applause of the whole assembly arose 
 in hoarse murmurs and loud clapping of hands, while many wept 
 passionately. 
 
 No one would have moved till morning, but there was yet much 
 to do ; and, as Moro Trimmul sat down, Vyas Shastree ordered the 
 distribution of wreaths of flowers to the chief guests, which an- 
 nounced the close of recitation for the night. Now, therefore, the 
 main body of the people got up and began to separate, and in a 
 short time only those were left who had been specially requested to 
 stay. Now, too, the cressets, no longer fed with oil, went out one 
 by one ; and the deep gloom of night was fast spreading over the 
 courts and buildings around. 
 
 " Will you not remain, Shastree," said Moro Trimmul, " to speak 
 with these people ?" 
 
 " No," he said ; " no ; there is no one to go home with the women. 
 I thought you would accompany them." 
 
 " It will be late," he replied, gloomily ; " no, I cannot come to- 
 night." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 283 
 
 " Your declamation was noble, Moro Trimmnl," said tlie Shastree ; 
 '' I liad never heard tlie passages so spoken. Who taught yon this 
 style?'' 
 
 " That is the way onr master likes them said. No one tanght me," 
 he replied ; *' and if yon conld hear the whole in one of his assem- 
 blies in the deep forest, yon would feel that you were a Mahratta." 
 
 " So I am — so I am," returned the Shastree quickly ; " do yon 
 doubt it ?" 
 
 ^'Not your faith, Yyas Shastree," replied Moro Trimmnl, "only 
 your energy. But go ; I will come early to-morrow ;" and, turning 
 away, he entered the vestibule and joined Maloosray and others wha 
 awaited him. Guards of men, he saw, had been placed at each of 
 the j)orches, so that no one could enter but those privileged. 
 
 A solitary lamp flickered on the altar where the image still rested, 
 and cast a feeble and uncertain light into that portion of the vesti^ 
 bule which was immediately before it, and where Maloosray, Moro 
 Trimmnl, and the rest now seated themselves. Otherwise the 
 spacious area was altogether in deep gloom, a portion only of its 
 massive stone pillars catching rays of light, and seeming like giants 
 standing around in solemn array. 
 
 We need hardly, perhaps, follow Maloosray in his narrative, which 
 was listened to with breathless interest by his hearers. He had 
 never as yet come among them, but his name and feats were well 
 known through many a rough ballad both of love and war. There h& 
 sat, face to face with them ; his large soft eyes flashing with excite- 
 ment, and adding force to the few but burning words he spoke. 
 Tannajee was no novice in the art of reading men's hearts ; and 
 among the mountains and valleys where he lived, there were already 
 thousands of the best youth of the country at his command. 
 
 "]Srow,"he said finally, "ye have heard all. We are before tha 
 Holy Mother, who comes to our Prince in his dreams, and tells him 
 wha,t to do ; she who will scatter these impure cow-slaying Moslems 
 like sheep before the wolf. O Holy Mother ! " he continued, rising^ 
 and bowing with joined hands in adoration to the image, " here are 
 thy children ; bless them, make them bold and true ; they will swear 
 not to hang back when ' the fire is on the hills,' and when they can 
 strike for thy honour. Hear thou the oath, and accept it." 
 
 As he paused and looked round there was at first a low murmur 
 of acquiescence. Then they who had been sitting started to their 
 feet, and as many as could reach it rushed to the threshold of the- 
 sanctum and touched it reverently : — ^those who could not, stretched 
 out their arms towards it over each other's heads, while wild cries 
 of " Jey Kalee !" " Jey Toolja Mata !" " Bome, Bome !" (We swear, 
 we swear!) rang through the vestibule, and were taken up by those 
 without. 
 
284 TAEA 
 
 " Now, let us write tlie names," cried Maloosray, wlien the excite- 
 ment liad in some degree subsided ; "sit down again, friends, and 
 if there be a scribe among ye let him come forward." 
 
 The Putwari, or hereditary clerk of the temple, was there, with 
 his writing materials tied up in a bundle, and he sat down and took 
 them out. 
 
 " Light one of the large lamps," said Moro Trimmul to an inferior 
 priest, *' and set it in the midst ; we are not afraid of our faces be- 
 fore the Mother." 
 
 As the wicks were lighted, one by one, the assembly seemed to 
 dilate. Light after Hght flickered, but grew stronger. " A true 
 omen," cried Maloosray, with fervour; " that is as we shall be, my 
 friends. Light after light will appear to ye from afar ; each may 
 waver for a while, but when ' the fire is on the hills ' ye will see all 
 plainly. Be silent now, and let us write." 
 
 It was, indeed, a strange and impressive scene. In the midst sat 
 Maloosray and Moro Trimmul, with the scribe ; around, the heads 
 of local families, Mmbalkurs, Bhoslays, Sindias, Ghoreparays, and 
 a host of others, each anxious to be named in the record, and lean- 
 ing forward to catch the eye of the scribe. Beyond them — some 
 kneeling, others standing — was a crowd of eager faces, all bearing 
 the same expression of excitement — one behind another on every 
 side — while the light fell upon their bronzed features and glistening 
 eyes, till those in the background were scarcely distinguishable. 
 
 One by one — chiefs, gentry, yeomen — gave in their names and 
 complements of men, and page after page was filled by the record 
 till no more remained. 
 
 " It is done, friends," said Maloosray, rising, as the Putwari had 
 added up the totals, and signed his name as the scribe; "there are 
 more than fifteen thousand men recorded. Enough for the time, 
 and more hereafter. By-and-by, when 'the fire is on the hills,* ye 
 will be welcome ; till then, separate and be quiet, else Afzool Khan 
 will come upon you, and we can give you no help. We will abide 
 the storm and let it pass over us, and so must you all." 
 
 As he spoke the last words, those who had been sitting rose, and 
 all in turn saluting Maloosray, the meeting broke up. The retainers 
 of the respective leaders gathered round their masters, and the 
 several parties followed each other out of the temple precincts. 
 
 " I shall depart before daylight, Moro Trimmul," said Maloosray, 
 as they proceeded to the postern which led to the bottom of the 
 ravine, below which their ponies and attendants awaited their 
 coming ; " wilt thou follow ?" 
 
 " I have more to do here, Tannajee," he replied; "but after the 
 Now Ratree I will come. I must watch Afzool Khan and Pahar 
 Singh." 
 
A MAERATTA TALE, 285 
 
 " Take care they do not watcli thee," returned Maloosraj. " Yet 
 I fear not for thy enemies ; of them thou art careful. I fear for 
 thee, because of that girl who played the cymbals. She is the devil 
 that I see sitting at thy heart, and looking out of thine eyes. I 
 watched thee as they followed her. It were well for thee to come 
 now, even now ; come !'* 
 
 " Impossible," returned the Brahmun, turning away. " Go ! " 
 
 " As thou wilt, friend," returned Maloosray. " Words were 
 always useless with thee ; but be wary." 
 
 Moro Trimmul watched the party as they descended the steps to 
 the tamarind trees below. He saw them mount and ride off, the 
 torches with them throwing a ruddy glare upon the crags and 
 brushwood above the path, — and his heart bade him follow ; but as 
 one of the temple watchers was about to close and bar the door, he 
 turned aside. All in the building was dark and deserted now. The 
 image had been taken from the altar, and put into its silken bed for 
 the night, and a faint lamp occupied its place. A few attendants 
 flitted hastily here and there across the dark courts and still darker 
 vestibule, anxious to get away, and the watchers only were all that 
 would soon remain. 
 
 " Maharaj ! — ^Moro ! " said a female voice in a low whisper, as he 
 passed between the pillars of the temple, " stop ! " 
 
 Moro Trimmul knew the voice. "Why art thou so late here, 
 Gunga ? " he said hastily. " Begone ! " 
 
 "I feared you were angry with me," said the girl, putting her 
 hand on his arm. '' You would not look at me as I danced, only at 
 her. I could not go till I had spoken with you. Ah, you are not 
 angry with me ? Lo ! I will do your bidding, though my heart break 
 and I die. Sit here, beloved, and speak to me ; come," and she tried 
 to draw him to her gently. 
 
 " Thou art one of the devils that are pulling me into hell ! " cried 
 the Brahmun fiercely ; and, pushing her violently from him, he 
 rushed wildly across the court. 
 
 Gunga fell back heavily against the pillar nearest to her, and as 
 she recovered herself, the pain of the fall obliged her to sit down, 
 involuntarily leaning against it. She drew her hand with a gesture 
 of weariness across her face and brow, then looked to see if there 
 were blood upon it. " Hath it come to this ? " she said bitterly ; 
 " hath it come to this — and for her ? Ah, me for her ! " 
 
 The girl had listened unobserved, in a dark niche near the shrine, 
 to what had transpired at the meeting, and her first thought now 
 was revenge, sure and deadly. A word from her, and the Maho- 
 medan officer in charge of the town would seize Moro Trimmul, 
 and imprison him in Nuldroog. As the thought occurred to her 
 she rose, and, hastily traversing the court, began to mount the steps 
 
286 TAMA: 
 
 wHch led up tlie ravine ; but her heart failed, and ere she had 
 ascended a few of them she wavered, sat down, and wept bitterly. 
 
 " They would kill him," she said, " and he must not die. No ; I 
 was wrong, and he will forgive me ; and to-morrow I will go to him 
 as he desired." Hers was a callous heart : bat it had softened to 
 her lover, and refused to do him harm. 
 
 rTime or country, what matter ? How often is the history of 
 woman's love and man's passion like this ! how often does such 
 erring love frame excuse for bitter wrong, endured from him who, 
 — of all the world, — should least inflict it ! 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 A FEW days had elapsed, and it was a quiet afternoon in the Shas- 
 tree's dwelling. The household work had long been done ; the 
 visit to the temple and the noonday worship were over. Vyas 
 Shastree had remained there in discussion with other Brahmuns ; 
 Radha, complaining of a headache, had fallen asleep ; Tara had 
 read all that her father had appointed her to study during the day, 
 and was waiting his return to have certain passages explained to 
 her before she proceeded with her task. 
 
 The house was perfectly still, and from the town no sound reached 
 them, for the heat without was great, and until evening there would 
 be comparatively few persons astir. It was calm, and large white 
 clouds were sailing slowly over an intensely blue sky, gathering into 
 masses pile upon pile, of dazzling brightness, as the sun's rays fell 
 upon them. The heat and peculiar state of the atmosphere caused 
 the outlines of buildings and of the mountains to waver ; and 
 wherever the eye rested on any object, the air between seemed to 
 quiver with a tremulous motion. 
 
 Hot as it was, Tara had not been deterred from her self-imposed 
 duty. Throwing a heavy folded sheet over her shoulders and head, 
 she had accompanied her father to the noonday service; nor, since 
 the occasion when she took upon herself the office of the priesthood, 
 and devoted herself to the duties of the shrine, had she on any 
 pretence missed or evaded the necessary attendance. 
 
 At first, perhaps, it was a severe trial. The licence, accorded by 
 general custom to the attendant priestesses, was to her abhorrent ; 
 and, on the other hand, Tara's unapproachable purity had given 
 o:ffence to them. While Gunga, therefore, and two or three others, 
 proposed the prohibition of Tara's service, the rest, fearing the 
 consequences, and having a real respect and love for the girl whom 
 they had watched from her childhood, refused to interfere with her. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 287 
 
 — _____ / . — _ — 
 
 Tara did them no harm, they said, and her father could punish all, 
 were any annoyance given to his daughter. 
 
 It is probable that matters might have continued in this state for 
 some time longer, but for the scene we have already recorded, and 
 the increasing jealousy of Gunga, expression of which could hardly 
 be repressed by her ; and on the day we now write of, the girl's 
 behaviour had been studiously offensive to Tara until rebuked by 
 the attendant Brahmuns, when she retired sulkily. 
 
 More insulting than that, however, was Moro TrimmuFs manner 
 to herself ; and for the first time Tara had felt what she long 
 dreaded, — the shame, as it were, of her vocation — the unavoidable 
 exposure to any libertine glance which might fall on her ; but she 
 had rallied herself at the shrine, and, secure in the protection of 
 the " Mother " she adored, had persevered in her duty without 
 interruption. 
 
 There was, as we have said, perfect stillness in the house, only 
 broken by the dull monotonous whirr of the spinning-wheels, as her 
 own and her mother's flew swiftly round, with which the buzz of 
 flies in the verandah and court seemed to harmonize. Her mother 
 appeared particularly intent upon spinning some remarkably fine 
 yarn ; and as the thread had broken on several occasions, when 
 Tara had spoken to her, and she had complained of it, both had 
 fallen into a silence, which had not been interrupted. Gradually, 
 then, the small troubles which had gathered about Tara returned to 
 her recollection ; and, as is generally the case on such occasions, 
 began, in spite of herself, to increase in proportions. 
 
 Tara's was not, however, a suspicious nature, and she had soon 
 struck out a course for herself in regard to the sisterhood. *^ It is 
 the money they want, not me : "if I save it all, and give it to 
 the Putwa.ri to divide amongst them daily, it will surely be enough," 
 she thought ; and this she determined to do. In regard, however, 
 to Moro Trimmul, it was very different. "Why did he look at her 
 as he had done that day ? " 
 
 Then her thoughts reverted to the time when she had first re- 
 marked him in the temple, a solitary stranger worshipper, to whom 
 her father had spoken kindly. Her memory followed clearly his 
 gradual steps to intimacy ; but there was nothing she could charge 
 him with, as an approach to familiarity in their intercourse. Through 
 all the licence of the marriage time — through all her visits to his 
 aunt and sister — there had been no violation of propriety ; on the 
 contrary, an habitual and respectful avoidance of her — or, at most, 
 a distant and courteous salutation. Why should it have altered ? 
 
 But since the night on which Gunga had spoken to her, and 
 Moro Trimmul had made his famous declamation of the scene 
 in the Hamayun, there had been a change. He either avoided her 
 
288 TABA 
 
 altogetlier, or his eyes dropped fui'tively as she passed, or met hers, 
 as they had done that day, in a glance new to her, and inexpressibly 
 offensive. Tara shuddered as she remembered it, and the action 
 broke the thread she was spinning. She did not resume her work, 
 and her hands fell listlessly on her lap as her foot ceased its motion. 
 For a time her eyes wandered vacantly among her flowers, about 
 which some gay butterflies were flitting and chasing each other 
 in the bright sunlight ; but suddenly a large dragonfly, which had 
 been hovering over them, darted at one and carried it off ; and as 
 she started forward, gazing intently after it, a bird chased the insect, 
 caught it, and flew away. 
 
 Perhaps the sudden cessation of the whirr of Tara's wheel had 
 attracted her mother's attention ; for after a while, as it was not 
 resumed, she |looked up. " What dost thou see ? " she asked, 
 anxiously ; for ever since the day on which Tara said the goddess 
 appeared to her, Anunda had been anxious, she hardly knew why : 
 but she dreaded a return of that strange and violent excitement. 
 " What dost thou see, beloved ? " 
 
 Tara did not apparently hear the question, or did not notice it. 
 Her hands, which had been involuntarily extended, fell upon her 
 lap listlessly as before ; but she turned towards her mother. " How 
 long does he remain, mother ?" she asked abruptly. 
 
 " He ! who, daughter ? " returned Anunda. 
 
 " Radha's brother," replied the girl, as a shiver seemed to pass 
 through her ; " Radha said he would go after the marriage, yet he 
 delays. Why, mother — why does he not go ? '* 
 
 " Nay, and how should I know ? '* replied Anunda. " What is he 
 to me ? All I wanted was Radha, and we have got her ; and he 
 may go or come as he pleases. Thy father told me he had business 
 here with the Nimbalkur and others till the Now Ratree was over, 
 and he assists in the recitations. More I know not. Why dost 
 thou ask ? What is he to thee, Tara ? " 
 
 *' Nothing, m.other ; but so long ? — will he stay so long ?" 
 
 " Radha told me yesterday he must soon rejoin his people in the 
 west, and leave her ; and she was crying about it. Does that con- 
 tent thee, Tara?" 
 
 " I would he were gone, mother," said Tara, rising from her low 
 stool, kneeling, and throwing her arms about Anunda as she sat on 
 a similar one, while she hid her face in her dress. " Cannot he go 
 sooner ? — cannot Radha send him away ? " 
 
 " Why, daughter ? why ? — Ah ! he hath not spoken to thee, child ; 
 he dare not ! Tell me," she continued, in a more agitated tone, as 
 her daughter clung almost convulsively to her, " what is this ? 
 Why dost thou fear him ? Thou — thou dost not ? . . . thou canst 
 not " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 289 
 
 " No, no, motlier," cried the girl quicklj, guessing her mother's 
 thoughts, and looking np innocently ; " fear not. I am not a 
 Moorlee to love ; . . . fear not ! But ah, mother, I dread him 1 
 I will not go to the temple while he is there. I ... I dare not — 
 I dare not go. May the Holy Mother forgive me for neglect ; but 
 when he departs, I will serve her night and day." 
 
 " Thou art very beautiful, my child," said her mother, smoothing 
 back the glossy hair and stroking the soft cheek which lay passively 
 in her lap. "Ah, thou art very beautiful ; and I fear such as he ! 
 Yes, if it be as thou sayest, it were better, indeed, to live secluded 
 for a while. I will tell thy father, and he will understand it." 
 
 "Yes, he will surely understand," said Tara absently ; *'but ah, 
 mother, was not that an omen ? I thought it was, and I came to 
 thee." 
 
 " What omen, Tara ? I saw nothing, child." 
 
 "A thought came into my mind, mother," she said sadly, " that I 
 was the butterfly sporting among the flowers, and he the fierce 
 glistening insect that darted upon it and bore it away. But then, 
 m^other, the bird came and took both. Why was that?" 
 
 " ThouL art not well, Tara," replied her mother, not understanding 
 her, for she had not noticed the occurrence, and, seeing her shiver, 
 thought her feverish. " Thou art not well ; lie in my arms for a 
 while, and the cold will pass away. O Holy Mother ! " she cried 
 aloud, as Tara, sobbing convulsively, hid her face in her bosom, 
 *' let not evil come to this child — thine and mine. 0, be good to 
 her, as thou hast taken her ! " 
 
 " Would that it were so," said the girl, after a while, and still 
 sobbing. " I would go, mother, if she would take me. What use 
 am I in life ? It would be bitter to leave the house and all of ye, 
 but I should be with her. Did she not promise this when she 
 touched my hair ? Ah, yes ; and she will not forget it." 
 
 "Hush, child; let this fancy pass from thee. Sleep, now, here. 
 I will sing thee the old song. Nay, thou shalt not leave me ! There 
 is room at thy mother's heart, and strength still in her arms, to hold 
 thee safely." 
 
 As Tara laid herself softly down in the old place, and her mother, 
 rocking herself to and fro, sang the low sweet lullaby of childhood, 
 — the girl's sobbing gradually stopped, and a gentle sleep fell upon 
 her. Anunda watched the change anxiously. At first her brow 
 was contracted, as if with pain, and a broken sob came now and 
 again with her breathing ; but gradually the head fell back on her 
 arm, the sweet mouth opened slightly, and tears, which had had no 
 vent before, welled gently from under the closed eyelids as the 
 features relaxed into a smile. 
 
 " Yes," thought Anunda, as she bent over her child, while her own 
 
290 TABA : 
 
 tears fell hot and fast', "tlie Mother is with her no^v, and she is 
 again happy." 
 
 "What hath happened?" asked Eadha soon afterwards, as, re- 
 freshed by her sleep, she rose, and came gently towards the low 
 spinning- chair on which Anunda still sat. " Is she ill ? " 
 
 " Hush ! " returned Anunda, in a whisper. " If we can lay her 
 down I will tell thee, but we must not wake her. I think .... I 
 think the Mother hath been with her again ; but I will tell thee." 
 
 Kadha hastily spread out a soft mattress and pillow close to the 
 stool, and, raising Tara together, they laid her down upon it, -as they 
 would a child. Her mother patted her gently as she lay, and 
 gradually the same sweet smile as at first again stole over her face. 
 
 " Look, she sees the Mother ! " said Anunda reverently. " It is 
 always so, and nothing can wake her till the time is past. Ah, thou 
 art happy now, my child, be it ever so with thee ! " 
 
 "What did she say, sister?" asked Radha, as, having thrown a 
 light sheet over the sleeping girl, they sat down to watch her apart, 
 lest the noise of the wheels — for Radha had taken Tara's and joined 
 the broken thread — should awaken her. "What did the goddess 
 say?" 
 
 Anunda hesitated. As yet no di:fference had arisen between them, 
 and Radha still looked up to her, more with the respect of a child 
 for its mother than as a sister- wife would comport herself to her 
 equal. Should she tell Radha all ? It had occurred to her that he 
 had imposed upon her some task which she hesitated to perform — 
 that Radha had some impatience of her brother's presence. It might 
 be a demand for money — it might be in relation to the political 
 objects of his mission, of which Anunda had a deep dread, lest her 
 husband should become an active party, and so be embroiled with 
 the Mahomedan officers of the country. She considered for a moment : 
 but Anunda's was no timid nature. She was not afraid of Radha ; 
 and with Tara's happiness at stake, she could risk no ceremony with 
 the sister of him who had evidently caused more than a passing 
 cloud. 
 
 "Radha," she said gently, "thou art more than a sister- wife to 
 me. Nay, as a daughter I have trusted to thee the happiness which 
 lay nearest my heart and hers ; and I believe thee faithful to it, 
 and that this home and all in it is growing precious to thee." 
 
 " To me ? Ah, yes, O sister and mother, too ! Radha is new to 
 you an," she replied, " but will be true now, very true, and will not 
 fail ! O mother, if you could know what it is to me to have a 
 loving home!" 
 
 " Then Tara must not be injured — no evil must come to her," 
 said Anunda, interupting her. 
 
 " To Tara, mother ? We are sisters, who will do her evil ? " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 291 
 
 *' I fear thy brother, Radha — not thee. Hath he said aught to 
 thee ? " returned Anunda. 
 
 " Mj brother ! O, heed him not, he will soon go, " returned Radha, 
 her features expressing distress and agitation, and she already 
 feared the worst. 
 
 " Ah, then, it is as I expected — as she dreaded. Radha, this must 
 not be. Hast thou any power over him? " 
 
 " None," said the girl, bursting into tears, for what she had most 
 apprehended appeared to have reached her at last — " none. He has 
 been wilful always — to me, to our father when he lived, and to all. 
 Where he goes — who are his companions — what he does — no one knows 
 except our Prince whom he serves, and Tannajee — who came so sud- 
 denly that night — whom I showed to you. S"o, mother, I have no 
 power and no influence. What does he care about me ? " 
 
 " He must care," said the matron stoutly, "or he must care for 
 me ; and yet, for thy sake, I would not provoke him. But, Radha! 
 when thou hast had a child lying at thy heart — drinking its Hf e from 
 thy breast — climbing about thee — thou wilt understand what a woman 
 can dare for it — what I could dare for Tar a ! Wilt thou speak to 
 him, or shall I?" 
 
 Radha feared her brother. She did not know the extent to which 
 his unscrupulous and profligate mind might carry him, but she had 
 not forgotten his threats. Though she felt assured that, with the 
 protection her husband could afford her, she was now beyond all 
 ordinary harm at his hands, she feared the consequences both to her- 
 self and Tara with which he had before threatened her, and she 
 dreaded his violence. Could he have been mad enough to speak to 
 Tara ? Could he have sent any insulting message to her ? Some- 
 thing must have occurred, and she felt too sick at heart to ask. 
 
 *' Thou art silent, Radha," continued Anunda ; " why ? " 
 
 *' I love Tara ; I love him too," she said earnestly, the tears starting 
 to her eyes. "Yes, I will speak to him, even though he should 
 strike me. Mother, I can bear it from him. Can you send me to 
 him ? — ^now, now ! — or send for him ? If I am' to go, let it be at 
 once, for this is a matter in which I cannot hesitate. O dear mother ! ^* 
 she continued, rising and advancing, " I am a child yet to thee. 
 Let me put my head on thy breast for once, and bless me there as 
 thou wouldst Tara : bless me ere I go to him. IN'o, not so, not so ; 
 but as Tara lay on thy breast, so would I too, for once." 
 
 " Come, Radha ! " cried Anunda. " child ! O sister- wife ! come ; 
 henceforth between thee and me there is no veil. I had longed to 
 draw it away, but thou hast done it now, and I am happy. Yes, 
 henceforth ye are to me as one," she continued, smoothing the soft 
 cheek as it lay at her heart — "new and old, but alike." 
 
 " Enough ; now I am content," cried the girl, rising and clapping 
 
292 TABA : 
 
 her hands, " and there shall be no fear for Tara. Send some one 
 with me and let me go ; he should not come here." 
 
 "No, Radha," said Anunda, calling a trusty woman-servant to 
 accompany her, "not here. Go to him, and return soon." 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 " Is my brother within ? has he returned from the temple ? " asked , 
 Radha of a man sitting in the porch of the house in which Moroj 
 Trimmul resided, and, though in another street, was only a few 
 steps distant. " Is he come, Chimna ? " 
 
 " Yes, lady, he is come," returned the man, who was an old re- 
 tainer of the family, and had known her from infancy ; " but if you 
 take my advice, you will not go to him now : he has eaten nothing, 
 and is in one of his rough angry moods. I did but speak to him as 
 he entered, and got as many curses as will serve me for a month. 
 Why not come another time ? '' 
 
 " Nay, Chimna, but it is an urgent matter, and I must now have 
 speech of him," she replied. " Gro, say I am come, and that he must 
 admit me. Begone at once," she continued, seeing him hesitate, 
 " else it will be worse for you." 
 
 " I had rather you went yourself," returned the man, " what if he 
 should beat me ? But no matter, I will go ; perhaps I may not do 
 you much more service, for he speaks of departing." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! When ? " exclaimed Eadha. " He is not ill ? " 
 
 " Soon, perhaps," replied the man, putting his finger to the side 
 of his nose, as a caution to secrecy, while he stepped across the 
 court to the verandah, " very soon, I think. No, he is not ill, only 
 vexed with something." 
 
 Badha's heart beat fast in her bosom. O, if it were but true ; 
 and that her brother, alarmed or repentant, no matter which, were 
 about to depart, it would solve all difficulties at once. That very 
 day — to-morrow ! It seemed hard to wish him gone ; yet there 
 would be peace to Tara and to her mother, which was endangered 
 by his presence. Surely he would see her. Yes ; Chimna was now 
 descending the steps of the house, and beckoned to her with a 
 smiling face. She crossed the court at once, followed by the servant, 
 
 "He is in the upper room," he said, "and bid thee come alone: 
 perhaps he is not well, for he is lying down, and seems weary. No 
 wonder he was in ill-humour with me, after that long disputation 
 with the Nassuk Brahmun to-day in the temple, — some relation of 
 the Shastree's, I believe, lady." 
 
 ^* Enough, Chimna; take care of my servant till I return," said 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 293 
 
 Radha. *' You can sit here ; if I want yon I will call ; " and so 
 saying she passed throngh a door into the inner conrt, and up the 
 steps which led to the apartments above, which were steep and 
 narrow. The door was closed at the top of them, and she knocked 
 before she opened it. Her brother unfastened it inside. " Enter," 
 he said quickly ; " it is well thou art come, I was thinking how I 
 could see thee, Iladha." Sit down there," and he hastily arranged 
 a few pillows and a travelling mattress for her, "and speak to me ;" 
 and at the same time threw himself heavily upon a low bed which 
 was close to the seat he had contrived. 
 
 " 0, I am weary, Radha," he continued, '^ very weary. I have no 
 sleep, no rest ; I cannot eat, and there is a burning thirst ever with 
 me. I shall die if this lasts long." 
 
 "Brother, you are ill," she replied; "this place does not agree 
 with you ? Why not go away for a time and change the air ? 
 Chimna says you have eaten nothing ; why is this ? With all there 
 is to do for the master, this is no time to be ill. Is there nothing 
 better for him than lingering here ? Surely Tannajee brought news 
 of him?" 
 
 "Ay, sister, and there is more," and he pointed to a heap of 
 letters on the floor ; " enough to make one tremble for the result of 
 years of toil and strife with the men of Islam. Listen : Maloosray 
 brought word of their preparations at Beejapoor, and they write 
 that to-day or to-morrow Afzool Khan and his son Fazil, with all 
 the forces at Nuldroog and Sholapoor, and many others, will begin 
 a march upon Wye and Purtabgurh. What can we do ? " 
 
 " Is this Moro Trimmul, my brother, who is speaking ? " said the 
 girl, with some scorn in her tone, and drawing herself up. " I 
 thought he, like Tannajee and the master, could see no hindrance 
 to the cause of the Holy Mother but death. He used to say so in 
 — in — the old times," she added tenderly. 
 
 "The old times?" he echoed. "Yes, the old times, when thou 
 hadst a royal lover, girl ; not a drivelling book- worm ! " 
 
 " Hush, Moro," returned Badha sharply ; "no more of that. 
 Thou hast buried it in the marriage, and he is kind to me. Why 
 remember it ? " 
 
 " Is it to be forgotten ? Dost thou forget it, Radha ? — then, 
 when we brought thee back from him ? " 
 
 "He never loved me," she returned; "he could not love a mad 
 child ; he told me so when he gently put me away." 
 
 " Not for the mad child, but for the beautiful girl, would he care ; 
 he does care, Radha. O sister, why was this hateful marriage done, 
 so far away from us ? " 
 
 "IS'ay, brother, thou knowest best; but I am content — he is very 
 kind to me ; and they all love Radha now, even Anunda." 
 
294 TABA : 
 
 " Radlia," said her brotlier, raising himself on his arms and 
 looking at her intently, and till his eyes seemed to flash with a light 
 glowing beneath them. " Radha, do not lie. If thou art my sister, 
 thy heart is far away among the blue mountains and their deep 
 forests, and with our Prince. If it be not so, the witchcraft of that 
 house hath compassed thee with a spell, as it has me.'' 
 
 " Witchcraft, brother? they do no witchcraft," she replied simply. 
 
 "By the Mother, they do," he cried; "feel my hands, feel my 
 head, they are burning, and Tara has set me on fire." 
 
 **Moro, thou art ill; this is fever," returned his sister anxiously. 
 "I was like this yesterday, and Anunda gave me some medicine, 
 and I slept, and it passed away. Let me fetch some, or send the 
 woman for it." 
 
 "No, no, Radha," he said hoarsely, "this is no fever; this is a 
 spell on me, and I cannot break it. This is the spell Tara wears 
 round her neck, Gunga told me of it. It would not let her speak ; 
 it draws me to her, and then puts me away till I burn. O sister, I 
 burn all over, and at night when there is no one with me — O, it is 
 terrible, terrible ; and she comes and mocks me, and holds out water- 
 and flowers, and then snatches them away. I tell thee she is a 
 witch, a devil, and she has set me on fire. Bring her to me and I 
 will tell her so." 
 
 ''Brother, dear brother," said the girl, ''you are ill, and there is 
 no one to tend you. I will stay; why did you not send for me ? 
 why not tell me of this sooner? Now, I will not leave you, you 
 must not be alone." 
 
 " Radha, I am not ill," he replied ; " I need no tending. Was I 
 ill yesterday, when I overcame the Brahmuns from Punderpoor in 
 the discussion at night, and when I could have said the Ramayun 
 by heart? Was I ill to-day when I strove with the Nassuk 
 Brahmuns in logic ? No, girl, I am not ill in body, only at heart. 
 And when she comes to the temple, and goes round the shrine 
 crowned with flowers, clashing the cymbals and singing hymns 
 with the priests, then I see the charm on her bosom, and it sparkles; 
 and I hear her ringing voice, and I grow mad, Radha — mad . . ♦ .. 
 and this fever comes on me, and I burn as they do in hell — as I do 
 now. Look ! " he cried in a shrill cry of pain, " look, she is there, 
 
 mocking me now, and pushing me in O Tara ! " he con- 
 
 tinned in a plaintive voice, after a pause, stretching out his hands 
 and shutting his eyes, as he turned away, " do not kill me, do not 
 burn me ; I kiss your feet, I worship you, beloved ! do not harm 
 me ! " 
 
 " What can I do ? what can I do ? " cried Radha, wringing her 
 hands. " He will die. Ho, Chimna ! " 
 
 " Silence, Radha ; for your life call no one. I will strike you if 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 295 
 
 you do," lie said, raising Hs arm. "Look, she is gone! slie was 
 there — there, even now. I turned away, for her eyes burned me ; 
 there was no love in them — none. She came and mocked me, and 
 you are witness of it. Why did she come in the air ? She is a 
 
 spirit — a witch — and it is always thus. There — look " 
 
 Radha looked tremblingly where he pointed. It was impossible 
 not to be infected with the terror and misery of his face and voice. 
 The room had open arches of wood on one side, across which heavy 
 curtains were drawn; but they were partially open, and, looking 
 through them, all she saw was the terraces of the houses of the 
 town gradually descending into the great ravine : the crags and 
 precipices of its further side : with the trees, and gilded spires and 
 pinnacles of the temple between. Beyond these, the rugged moun- 
 tain and the plain below, hazy with quivering light, and melting 
 into the sky. 
 
 "You see nothing, sister? " he said. "No, she is gone now." 
 "No, Moro, there is nothing there but the town and the temple. 
 
 Holy Mother ! " continued Radha, stretching out her hands to it, 
 " save him ; save my brother ! I vow to thee " 
 
 "Make no vows for me, Radha," he said to her, sharply catching 
 her arm; "she is my enemy; I know it. She loves Tara better 
 than me ; she will not give her to me. I asked her for Tara long 
 ago ; see what has come of it. I have done all the secret rites that 
 her worship enjoins, but she is not content ; she mocks me, and 
 when I look at her eyes they glitter with malice. To-day she 
 seemed to glower at me from among the smoke, and Tara was there 
 offering flowers. They both mocked me. Yes, they are devils ; but 
 
 1 fear them no more, Radha. May her house be desolate, and her 
 shrine desecrated." 
 
 "Hush, brother!" cried the girl, putting her hand before his 
 mouth,. to stop what she believed to be horrible and deadly blas- 
 phemy. " Hush ! what if she heard you ? O Mother, gentle 
 Mother, forgive him this madness. I vow to thee " 
 
 "You will make me curse you, Kadha," he said, again grasping 
 her arm violently. " Did I not tell you I would have no vows to 
 her, liar and murderess as she is ? Yes, I see it now. You, too, are 
 one with them, and are come to mock me; and yet, Radha," he con- 
 tinued, looking at her tenderly, " was this good of you after all I 
 have done for you ? O, faithless ! " 
 
 "Moro," returned Radha, weeping sorely, and sobbing so that 
 she could hardly speak, " I am not faithless. I am true to you, 
 even to death, my brother." 
 
 " Grood," he said gravely ; but again fixing his eyes upon her, so 
 that she could hardly bear his intense gaze. " True ? Ah, yes, if 
 all are false, Radha should be true — true to him and to me. Now, 
 
296 TABA 
 
 listen," lie continued, slowly and impressively, "if thou art true, tell 
 Tara I am in fear of her charm ; bid her look kindly on me — bid her 
 put it away from her breast. I will kiss her feet ; I will daily 
 measure with my body every step she takes round the shrine, so 
 that she give me one kind look, — so that I see that love in her eyes 
 which is burning in me day and night — day and night. 
 
 '' But that is not all," he resumed, after a pause. '' Am I mad ? 
 Dost thou think me so for this raving ? By the gods, no ! Only 
 for her. Let her look to herself. And I say to thee calmly, sister, 
 thou must say all this to-night, else beware! Listen, I have but. 
 one desire in life, that is Tara — one object only to live for, that is 
 Tara. I plead nothing, I say nothing, only that I am not mad. 
 
 " !N'ow, listen again. You have much to live for — the pleasures 
 of life, the enjoyments of wealth — honour as the wife of Vyas 
 Shastree, — children to come, and your husband's love, with your 
 children's ; but remember, Badha, they are all in my hand. A word 
 from me to him, and you are sunk lower than the Moorlees. All 
 this joy will pass from you. He will cast you out, and I will not 
 shelter you. You shall be worse than the vilest, and men shall 
 
 jnock you. By " and he swore a horrible curse, "I will do this 
 
 and more, Badha, if you refuse. Answer me, girl," and he shook 
 her violently and painfully in his passion. 
 
 " Moro ! " cried his sister, gasping for breath, " listen. I said once 
 before you might kill me if it pleased you, and I bared my breast to 
 you. JSTow again, if you dare to look at it without shame, it is 
 before you. But, listen to my words, I will do no treachery ; no, 
 brother, no treachery. I am of the same blood and the same spirit 
 as yourself, and you well know I could be true and fearless once, 
 and so may God and the Mother help me, I will be fearless now in a 
 better cause. Yes, strike," she continued, as, without speaking, he 
 hastily raised himself, seized a naked dagger that was concealed 
 under his pillow, and brandished it with one hand, while he pressed her 
 down with his knee, and held her forcibly against the wall with the 
 other. " Strike ! your blow will be more merciful than your words," 
 and she shut her eyes, expecting the stroke, yet not flinching from it. 
 
 *' Stay — ^hold 1 " cried a shrill woman's voice, as a hasty rustling of 
 silken garments was heard for an instant between the door and the 
 bed, and Moro Trimmul's hand was seized in a powerful grasp ; 
 " wouldst thou do murder ? Shame on thee, and she thy sister ! " 
 
 " She is a devil, too, and mocked me," exclaimed the man moodily, 
 but dashing the knife to the ground. "Who let thee in, Gunga? 
 Go, I want thee not — away ! tempt me no more, else I will strike ! " 
 
 " Fear him not, lady," cried the girl, picking up the dagger hastily ; 
 "he dare not strike you now, else," — and her eyes flashed — "else, 
 Moro Trimmul, thou shalt do no more evil : none to me, none to her. 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 29T 
 
 Beware ! I have no fear, and no scruple ; let her go safely, and I will 
 stay with thee." 
 
 " Go, Radha," he said. " Go, sister " ^ 
 
 " I will not go, Moro Trimmnl," cried his sister excitedly. " I was 
 not afraid of yon when that dagger's point was at my heart. For 
 myself I am not afraid of your threats, or your words. What you 
 can do to me, what you can say of me, I know not. Whatever it be, 
 and this girl is witness, I fear it not. What men would say of the 
 Pundit ^ who wronged his sister — you know ; and how they would 
 revile and spit at you. Say it, sir, and I follow you through Dekhan, 
 through Hind, till I die by your hand. If you make me shameless 
 you shall be shameless with me ; but this remember, I warn them all 
 in the house of you, — I warn Tara of you, — and no harm shall come 
 to her, for your honour is dearer to me, than mine to you." 
 
 "If thou hast any influence over him," she continued to Gunga; 
 ''lead him aright. Thou mayst have saved him a great crime to- 
 day, for there was blood in his eyes when he kneeled over me with 
 the knife ; but better I should have died than harm should have come 
 to them through me. Lead him away from those evil thoughts, and 
 Radha will be grateful to thee all her life, and may often help thee." 
 
 " I love you, lady, and honour you," said the girl, reverently 
 touching Eadha's feet ; " but in this matter I have no power, much 
 as I desire to help you and him ; nor, indeed, in any other now, — yet 
 I will do what I can. He loved me once," said the girl, bursting 
 into tears, "before he knew Tara ; but that is gone, for she has his love 
 and cares not for it. Now he only curses me and beats me, yet I will 
 not, I cannot leave him, lady. Forgive the poor Moorlee ; but it is 
 better for me to bear his wrath than for him to be left alone. Last 
 night he was fearfully excited, and threatened my life, but I escaped. 
 He grows worse towards evening ; but fear not, I will not leave him.'' 
 
 " I will come and watch with thee," said Radha, in a whisper, for 
 her brother had again thrown himself on the bed, and covered him- 
 self with a sheet, and she feared to excite him ; "let me come ? " 
 
 "It may not be, lady," replied the girl. "If he kill me, what 
 matter ? who would miss the Moorlee, or grieve for her ? But you, 
 his sister, must not meet this peril ; the Holy Mother has already 
 saved you from one terrible danger, and fate is never to be dared 
 twice. Only believe that one as devoted as yourself watches him, 
 and one to whom life is of no account. Go, do not speak to him now. 
 This madness will pass away, and I will come and tell you of him." 
 
 " Is she gone, Gunga ? " said Moro Trimmul to the girl, who, after 
 Radha's departure, had sat down by the bed and was fanning him. 
 " I hear no one speaking to you." 
 
 "Yes, I sent her away. I feared for her," she-replied. 
 
298 TARA : 
 
 " It was well done, Gunga, else — else I miglit have killed lier- 
 
 Ay, girl," he resamed, after a pause, " I had killed her but for Tara. 
 Why did she come and not stay ? why did she take the knife from 
 me?" 
 
 "Thou art always raving of that girl like a fool, Moro Trimmul,'* 
 said Gunga impatiently. " It was I that saved thy sister, else there 
 was blood in thine eyes, and a devil at thy heart ; what if thou hadst 
 struck her ? " 
 
 " She and Tara are one," he said gloomily ; " yes, they are one, and 
 thou, too, wilt go to them. Go, Gunga, they will give thee money." 
 
 "May dirt fall on their money, and thine too," she replied sulkily. 
 " I want none of it." 
 
 "Thou art insolent, girl." 
 
 "I am a fool, Moro Trimmul, to bear with thee," she retorted, 
 without moving. The girl's quick perception showed her that any 
 toleration of his bad humour would only increase it, and of life she 
 was utterly reckless. What tie held her to the man who now 
 seemed almost to loathe her, she knew not : a fascination, perhaps, 
 which she could not resist. 
 
 He was long silent, again drew the sheet over him, and lay quietly ; 
 at length he removed it and sat up. 
 
 " Thou art not gone, Gunga ? " he said ; " why art thou here ? " 
 
 " I know not," she returned, " except that I am a fool." 
 
 *' Go," he continued, " they will be wanting thee in the temple." 
 
 "I am not going," she rephed; "another will take my work. I 
 will not leave thee now." 
 
 "Gunga," he resumed, after a moody silence, "is there peace be- 
 tween us ? " 
 
 " Such peace as thou wilt have," she replied. 
 
 " And if I love thee again ? " 
 
 " Pah ! " she cried ; " love ! — it is a thing to spit upon now. Can 
 love go from one to another, and return as it went ? Can a garland 
 of Champa flowers be worn all night, and keep their freshness and 
 fragrance till the morning ? Do not men fling them away as refuse ? " 
 
 " Then, why come to me, girl ? why follow me ? " 
 ^ " Thy heart tells thee already," she said, fixing her eyes full on 
 him, " we have one thing only in common now. That girl — I told 
 thee so at the Papnas that day, and I tell thee so again — when I 
 trample that charm of hers under my feet, and her throat with it, I 
 shall be content, and thou art safe. Yes, Moro Trimmul, but for 
 hope of revenge on her, I would have killed thee when thy love went 
 to her. But thou art a coward ; I know it ; thou wilt do nothing." 
 
 " Thou wilt not say so if I cany her off and put her to shame." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the girl, rising and standing over him, " is it so ? I 
 tell thee, Moro Trimmul, I will follow her and fawn on her like a 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 299 
 
 dog — I will abase myself before her — I will lick the dust from her 
 feet, if that will help thee to do this." 
 
 '' Listen to what I say," he continued, raising himself on his arm. 
 " I am calm now — quite calm — I burn no longer. 1 was mad when 
 she — ^when Radha — came. 1 thought I had a chance through her ; 
 but she defied me, and there is none.'' 
 
 " Women know women best," said the girl. " I told thee so long 
 ago, but I was not believed." 
 
 *' I believe thee now," he replied ; " and we have only ourselves to 
 rely upon. Ah, surely this is a strange calmness which has come 
 over me. It is not before death, Gunga ? " 
 
 " 1^0, fear not," returned Gunga. " Love is passing into revenge ; 
 I know what it is. Yes, thou wilt act now, Moro. Take her hence 
 but for a day, and she is thine for ever, and will become a Moorlee 
 like me — like the rest of us. Enough, Moro Trimmul. No (rther 
 harm shalt thou do to her than this ? Hast thou the spirit — the 
 courage ? " 
 
 "I will do it," he said gloomily. **That is what I had determined 
 on myself. When can it be done ? " 
 
 " On the last night of the ceremonies," she said ; " I can get the 
 key of the postern, and keep it open unobserved ; and as Maloosray 
 and others went that night, so canst thou take Tara ; and I have 
 friends among the E-amoosees, who will help us. I am their priestess, 
 and they dare not refuse me. Take us both ; I must see her humili- 
 ation. O Shakti powers ! " she cried, stretching out her arms, " aid 
 me in this. Ye are more powerful than the Mother, and ye hate her. 
 Art thou determined, Moro Trimmul ? " 
 
 " I will not change," he said ; '^ the illusion is past." 
 
 " Swear on my throat and feet, and I will believe thee." 
 
 " I swear," he replied, touching her neck. 
 
 "Now I will leave thee, Moro," said the girl. "I have no fear for 
 thee ; there will be no more delirium with new thoughts." 
 
 " I will follow thee to the temple," he replied ; " go on before. I 
 dare not stay here alone ; she would come to me " 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 Some days have passed at Beejapoor since we were last there, not 
 idly, certainly. A large army had to be prepared for the field, and 
 for a long, difficult, and perhaps hazardous service. The treasury 
 was opened, and the arrears of all troops disbursed; for the men had 
 to provide as well for their own wants as for those of their families 
 dming their absence. The condition of the artillery was looked to 
 
300 TABA 
 
 witli particular care, and preparations made for rongh roads and 
 ronglier service tlian other parts of the Dekhan afforded. Sivaji's 
 mountains were high and steep, the jungle and forest next to im- 
 penetrable, yet Afzool Khan had taken up the " hirra," the gage of 
 service, and had determined to bring the rebel bound to the throne 
 of his young King, there to receive death or pardon, as might be 
 most j&tting. 
 
 But the old Khan was no boaster. He had seen something of that 
 country when, as a younger man, he had governed those provinces ; 
 and in liis tours through them had shared the hospitality of Shahji, 
 the father of Sivaji, and had been guided by Sivaji himself through 
 many a rough hunting expedition ; he therefore remembered enough 
 to adopt precautions in all respects, and, so far as lay in his power, 
 they were made. 
 
 That was not a country for the operations of cavalry, and it was 
 therefore more to the infantry and artillery that he trusted : and it 
 would not be wise to weaken the royal forces in and about the capital 
 too much, lest the Moghuls should take advantage of it, and make 
 incursions across the frontier, nay, even attack the capital itself. 
 
 His own Paigah, and troops that had been in quarters for the rainy 
 season at his own town of Afzoolpoor: — some of the Wuzeer's 
 Abyssinian levies, which were at Nuldroog, — some bodies of the old 
 Dekhany horse under AUa-ool-Moolk, the Dagtorays and Bylmees, 
 were particularly selected ; and, with some of the best infantry, the 
 army was complete. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the spirit and devotion of the troops. In 
 the beautiful Jumma Mosque, where more than five thousand men 
 assembled daily for prayer, the preaching of the Peer, and the other 
 ecclesiastics of that noble edifice — which yet remains as perfect as it 
 was at the period of this history — eloquently set forth the merits of 
 the Jehad, or religious war, in the eyes of God and the Prophet; and 
 the certainty of paradise and its houris, to all who, falling by sickness 
 or in battle, would surely enjoy them. Nor was it in the Jumma 
 Mosque only that this fervour existed. In the royal Palace precincts, 
 the city mosques — at the tombs of the ancestors of the Kings — the 
 beauteous Ibrahim Boza, and noble mausoleum of Sultan Mahmood, 
 nothing was left undone by the preachers to make the war popular, 
 and to blacken the character and motives of the rebels. Frequently, 
 indeed, to such a pitch of excitement were men wrought, that it was 
 difficult to restrain them from attacking Hindus indiscriminately in 
 the streets, and, in the expressive language of the Peer, from "making 
 a pyramid of a lakh of heads before the palace gates." But it was 
 no part of the royal policy to allow such religious fury vent at the 
 capital or by the way : suffice it that, at the end of a long and toil- 
 some journey, which would be made light through religious fervour, 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 301 
 
 there would be free licence to slay, and tlie raid of Afzool Khan 
 would become memorable in the history of the kingdom. 
 
 As the camps of the different leaders, too, formed without the walls, 
 on that great plain which encompassed the city, bards and minstrels, , 
 in companies or singly, balled- singers, and, above all, troops of danc- 
 ing women — thronged to them ; and day and night, audiences were 
 formed, sometimes in the tents, sometimes in the open air, where the 
 feats of Sivaji and Maloosray were sung in the native Mahratta or 
 Canarese, with verses added for the occasion, urging the faithful to 
 destroy them. 
 
 We may be sure that, if the old Khan and Fazil were active in the 
 field, Lurlee and Zyna were no less so in the house. To Lurlee war 
 was familiar. She had been long weary of a monotonous life in the 
 city, varied only by an occasional day's excursion to the royal palaces 
 at Toorweh, the Ibrahim E-oza, or to the Khan's own garden, which 
 was without the walls ; and she remembered vividly the time when, 
 for months together, the Khan's tent, or a temporary lodging in a 
 village, were her only home, moving hastily or leisurely, as the service 
 required, from place to place, in her palankeen or on horseback, as 
 might be. 
 
 Ah ! she was young and active then, and with the sharing of a 
 rough bivouac or hurried march, — scanty food, often cooked by her- 
 self, a horse-cloth to lie upon, and a shelter contrived with four 
 spears and a sheet thrown over them — and hard fighting to boot, — 
 were her pleasantest memories of the Khan's love and her own happi- 
 ness. If she were not so young, the old spirit was at last roused ; 
 and, day by day, as the preparations went on, the good lady told Zyna 
 of the old wild times, and excited her desire to share in the new 
 expedition. 
 
 To Zyna's great joy her father had directed that the whole family 
 was to move. Lurlee was indispensable to the Khan in the field, 
 where, indeed, her truest value was apparent ; and Fazil could not be 
 denied the command he had earned by his sagacity and valour. Who, 
 then, could protect Zyna, even did he desire to leave her ? True, the 
 royal Begum had offered a home, and with it her love to the maiden; 
 she should be her little secretary, and write the King's private letters 
 to her father while he was absent. But it could not be : that loving 
 heart would have pined without those whose daily converse had been 
 its life for years, and the invitation was affectionately but respectfully 
 declined. 
 
 We may, perhaps, also hint another reason, not more powerful^ 
 certainly, than the love of those nearest and dearest to her, but 
 working with it, nevertheless, in no mean degree. Kowas Khan had 
 not suffered by his father's treachery. It was not only that Afzool 
 Khan and Fazil answered for him with their lives and honour ; but 
 
302 TAEA 
 
 it had become clear to tlie King, and to those who had examined the 
 late Wuzeer's correspondence, that the son had been kept ignorant 
 of his father's plans ; so, Avhen the period of mourning was past, 
 Kowas Khan had been taken to the royal conrt by the Khan and his 
 son, and invested with robes of honour. Of the King's participation 
 in the secret of his father's murder Kowas Khan had no knowledge, 
 and could have none. It was believed to have been committed in 
 revenge by some discharged soldiers, and it were better that he died 
 as he had done, than that his treacherous intention should have 
 succeeded, or that the ignominy of a public execution should have 
 followed its detection. 
 
 While, therefore, the young man was still residing at the Khan's 
 house with his mother, and other younger members of the family, he 
 renewed his proposals for Zyna, which were heartily seconded by her, 
 and other female relatives. It was, however, no time for such afiairs ; 
 and with a tacit consent that, when the campaign was over, there 
 should be no more delay in the marriage, Kowas Khan contented 
 himself with being told by Lurlee Khanum — when the worthy dame 
 had retired behind a screen — that, after a strict investigation, she 
 had come to the conclusion that his temperament was fire and Zyna's 
 air, and that, in consequence, their union promised to be felicitous in 
 the highest degree ; and that her friend the Moolla agreed with her. 
 
 Did our space admit of it, we would tell how friends on both sides 
 met for the betrothal ; and how, — there being no time for more 
 lengthened ceremonies, — they stood up and interchanged packets of 
 betel-leaf covered with gold and silver foil. How both sides swore 
 that those they represented should never swerve from the contract ; 
 how the first, and hundred and tenth chapters of the Koran, were 
 said devoutly by the Moolla and the assembly ; and what good things 
 were provided at night by Lurlee Khanum and her trusty cook 
 Kurreema, for those who came to the quiet ceremony. Many were 
 the complaints of Lurlee's female friends, and perhaps Zyna's also, 
 that there was not greater rejoicing ; but Afzool Khan made it known 
 that, when the marriage did take place, there should be no stint ; 
 and so the neighbours were satisfied for the present, and consoled 
 themselves with hope for the future. 
 
 Bulwunt's wounds had proved of less consequence than was sup- 
 posed at first, and loss of blood had caused the weakness under 
 which he suffered on the night of the scene in the temple. He was 
 now able to move about, and even to ride, and in the ensuing cam- 
 paign, in a country which he knew thoroughly, his local experience 
 would be of great use. He was not, however, sanguine as to the 
 result. As he expressed it, hunting Sivaji and Maloosray would be 
 like chasing the wind ; it would be heard and felt, but never seen. 
 Nevertheless they might be brought to terms, and hereafter become 
 worthy servants of the royal house. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 303 
 
 Everytliing, therefore, being prepared, and tlie royal astrologers 
 liaving fixed a fortunate day and lioiir for the commencement of the 
 march, the whole of the troops were drawn out in battle-array on the 
 plain north of the fort, and the young King bade the leaders Grod- 
 speed. Descending from his elephant, he embraced the old Khan, 
 his son, and other noblemen and gentlemen of note ; and as the royal 
 ISTagaras, or kettle-drums, which had been directed to accompany 
 the force, struck up a march, and were answered by fchose of every 
 body of horse, infantry, and artillery on the field, — the troops at 
 once proceeded to their several destinations, a few miles distant, 
 shouting the war-cries of their several leaders. 
 
 It was necessary, however, for the Khan himself, with his son 
 and Kowas Khan, to visit JSTuldroog, where a great portion of the 
 army lay, and whence some of it was to accompany him ; for though 
 the troops at Beejapoor, which had been under the late Wuzeer, had 
 shown no signs of disaffection, those at the fort were suspected, 
 and their loyalty must be put to the proof ere the army could pro- 
 ceed. Lurlee Khanum and Zyna, therefore, were despatched under 
 guidance and escort of Bulwunt Rao and others, to Sholapoor, to 
 await the Khan's arrival ; and with a party of horse lightly equipped, 
 his son Fazil, the Peer — who had declared his intention of witnessing 
 in person the discomfiture of the infidels, and seeing to the religious 
 exercises of the army during its march — and Kowas Khan, Afzool 
 Khan proceeded by the direct road of his own town of Afzoolpoor to 
 the royal fort. 
 
 We need not follow their journey, for the country affords nothing 
 interesting or remarkable for description. After passing the town 
 of Almella, they crossed the Bheema, now falling rapidly, and already 
 f ordable in some places for horsemen : and Afzoolpoor, lying near 
 the further bank, was safely reached on the third day. 
 
 Here the KHian found employment for two days more : for he was 
 in no hurry to leave his own town, and the various matters to which 
 he found he had to attend. His own last resting-place, a lofty, hand- 
 some, square building, with a massive dome, and the mosque adjoin- 
 ing it, were all but completed, and their consecration was necessary. 
 This was performed by the Peer, the Moollas of village mosques 
 around, the Kazee of Nuldroog, and the representative of the saint 
 Boorhan Sahib, who lived at the pretty village of Boorhanpoor, some 
 miles to the north, where the saint's tomb had been erected. " It 
 was well," said the old Khan, " to have the place ready ; who could 
 tell whether it might not be required soon ? " Who could tell indeed ? 
 and so the ceremonies were completed. 
 
 Nor would the hospitable representative of the Boorhanpoor saint 
 allow the Khan's party to pass his village without entertainment. 
 Parties of leaders of the troops at JSTuldroog, now only a few miles 
 
304 TAEA 
 
 distant, came to the festivities, and, in the meeting with them, all 
 apprehensions were removed from the Khan's mind. Swearing on 
 the holy book before the saint's shrine, they declared their fealty to 
 the King, and their attachment to their young master, in term& 
 which could not be mistaken. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 The Khan was to march early next morning for the fort, but his 
 departure was delayed purposely to allow of the troops to send out 
 parties to perform the ceremony of "Istikbal,"or meeting; and, after 
 again partaking of the good Durwaysh's hospitality, the party rode 
 on without interruption. 
 
 The road from Boorhanpoor to Nuldroog leads up the pretty and 
 fertile valley of the Boree river, which is skirted by low grassy hills 
 for several miles. Then leaving the river, as the hills grow bolder, it 
 rises gradually through passes among them, and, after several steep 
 and stony ascents, gains a level plateau, from whence the fort and 
 town are distinctly seen below. 
 
 Soon after leaving their post, the party began to meet others from 
 the fort, dressed in their gayest and best costumes ; and these, 
 having made their salutes to the Khan, rode forward to the front, so 
 that gradually the men in advance swelled to a considerable number, 
 and had all the appearance of an independent body of cavalry. Out 
 of this, wherever the ground afforded room, and was free from ruts 
 and stones, men dashed at speed, wheeling and circling their horses, 
 so that their movements appeared like those of a real skirmish. 
 
 When they reached the level plain on the summit of the plateau 
 above the town, the Khan was met by the Killadar, or governor of 
 the fort, the principal officers of the troops, the civil authorities, and 
 others ; some on horseback, others on gaily- caparisoned elephants 
 with clashing bells. Both parties dismounting, and the leaders 
 having embraced each other, — the officers presenting the hilts of 
 their swords as Nuzzurs, or offerings to the Khan, — the procession 
 — ^for it had now become one — moved on slowly in gorgeous array, 
 amidst the firing of matchlocks and camel swivels and welcome guns 
 from the fort ; and the appearance of the Khan and his gallant son, 
 as they rode together through the main street and bazar, dressed in 
 rich cloth- of- gold, was a subject of general remark and approbation 
 by all classes. The prospect of a campaign, always pleasant to the 
 soldiers, especially under so renowned a leader as Afzool Khan, 
 increased the general satisfaction of all concerned. 
 
 As they passed its first gate, the booming of cannon from the 
 jramparts announced their arrival within the fort, and was answered 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 305 
 
 by guns from tlie encampment on tlie heights to the west. Passing 
 the ditch by a causeway, they entered the fausse-braye by a narrow 
 passage, and thence ascending slightly to the main entrance, with its 
 massive flanking bastions of black basalt, the interior was reached — 
 at that time a busy place, crowded with houses and shops in some 
 parts, but in others laid out in open gardens, and spaces where the 
 troops could assemble. 
 
 A curious and picturesque spot in many respects is this fort. Built 
 upon a tongue of basalt, which is precipitous on three sides, and of 
 considerable height, it is joined to the level portion of the plateau to 
 the west, on which the town stands, by a neck considerably narrower- 
 than the enciente ; and on this side a double wall with bastions, and 
 a deep dry ditch, form the defences. Round the edge of the preci- 
 pices of the hill itself, is a single wall of great strength, with large 
 bastions at intervals ; and the river Boree, lying deep in the valley 
 below, washes the base of the hill on two sides, north and east. 
 
 To the north, to secure a constant supply of water to the fort, a 
 stupendous dam of masonry has been thrown across the river upwards 
 of seventy feet high, and of proportional thickness, by which the 
 water is held up in the valley, so as to form a pretty lake of the same 
 depth at the dam, which extends above the town. On the other side 
 of this dam is another fort on a smaller knoll, which serves as a tete- 
 du-jpont to the dam, and completes the fortification. 
 
 To the old Khan the place was familiar. He had often taken 
 turns of duty there to watch the frontier, but to Fazil and his friend 
 it was new ; and when ceremonies of reception and the introduction 
 of Kowas Khan to the officers of his father's levies, now his own, were 
 finished, the friends accepted the o:ffer of the Killadar to examine the 
 marvels of the place. 
 
 The wonderful dam, through the upper sluices of which the stream 
 was precipitated into a deep pool at its foot, in two pretty cataracts ; 
 the suite of apartments in the body of the dam itself, over which the 
 river rolled in flood, and fell in a sheet before its windows ; and the 
 noble Cavalier at the east end, from the top of which extensive views 
 of the country on all sides were obtained, were duly admired. It 
 was evening when the friends reached the summit of the Cavalier, 
 and they sate there watching the glorious sunset, over town and fort 
 and lake, in which the piles of gold and crimson clouds broken with 
 dark purple, with the sombre masses of fort walls and bastions, and 
 precipices on which they stood, were reflected in its deep waters. 
 
 It was not so easy to prepare the troops required there as at the 
 capital ; but the Khan was anxious that nothing should be wanting 
 in their equipment, and a few days was required to complete pre- 
 parations for the field. This delay enabled the chief officers of the 
 country to arrive and pay their respects, and, among others, Pahar 
 
306 TAEA : 
 
 Singh., no longer disguised, but in liis proper character as one of the 
 wardens of the frontier marches, attended and did service with a 
 body of picked men, both horse and foot, which rivalled, if they did 
 not surpass, the royal troops in completeness and splendour of ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 Very di:fferent were the chief and his nephew now, in comparison 
 with the time when we last saw them; and in the noble figure, 
 dressed in light chain armour and cloth-of-gold, riding a superb grey 
 horse, and giving commands to his men, no one could have recognized 
 the old ragged Fakeer and his cry of "Ulla dilaya to leonga," which 
 still often rang in the ears of those who had heard ifc. 
 
 The building, which went by the name of the King's Palace, and 
 which was kept for the use of royal officers of rank, or even for 
 royalty itself, should the King have occasion to visit the fort, had 
 been assigned to Afzool Khan and his retinue ; and, after the trans- 
 action of daily business in one of the public halls of the fort, he 
 retired, after evening prayer, to his apartments, finding relaxation in 
 a game of chess with the priest, who was a stout opponent, or hear- 
 ing or dictating his public correspondence. 
 
 It was the fourth evening after his arrival, after an unusually busy 
 day ; the priest was occupied with a sermon in the mosque, and the 
 Khan had retired into one of the rooms of the house, which, being 
 built into part of the fort wall, possessed a projecting oriel window, 
 commanding a view of the whole of the east side of the fort, with its 
 walls and rugged cliffs. By day these precipices did not appear 
 extraordinarily remarkable ; but when shrouded in the gloom of 
 evening and night, with the river brawling beneath them in its rocky 
 bed, their height and e:ffect were indefinitely increased, and the 
 murmur of the river below became delightfully soothing. 
 
 One corner of this oriel, furnished with cushions, had become the 
 favourite resort of the Khan. Here he had been sitting alone and 
 undisturbed, and occupied with despatches and other papers the whole 
 of the evening ; and he was about to retire to rest when an attendant 
 entered, somewhat abruptly. 
 
 "I said I was not to be disturbed, AUee," he cried; '-what dost 
 thou want ? " 
 
 "My lord, there is a man without, who says he has urgent business, 
 and he must have speech of you alone. I said it was impossible ; 
 but he declared you would be angry with me if you knew he were 
 denied, and that I was to say to you, 'UUa dilaya to leonga,' and you 
 would understand." 
 
 "Admit him, instantly,'* said the Khan, to his servant's astonish- 
 ment. " Ha, Pahar Singh again ! what new work has he now got 
 here for us ? " 
 
 Muffled closely in a sheet, with his sword under his arm, the chief 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 307 
 
 approached the Khan, and bent lowly before him. " Send that man 
 away, and hear what I have to say," he said ; " it is important." 
 
 AUee looked at the chief suspiciously, as though he were trusting 
 his master to a dangerous character; but, at a reiteration of the 
 order, he returned to depart. 
 
 " Take this weapon with you, friend," said the chief, laughing, 
 *' thou art afraid of it, perhaps ; not so thy lord, — nor of me. Keep 
 it for me, however, till 1 come out." 
 
 AUee took the sword. " I did not like the look of him," he said 
 to another without, who belonged to the fort. " Who is he ? " 
 
 '' Dost thou not know Pahar Singh ? " returned the man ; "that 
 is his famous sword Devi, which has drank many a man's blood ; 
 come, let us look at it. There will be something to do, surely, as he 
 is with the Khan." 
 
 "I have but a few words to say, Afzool Khan," said Pahar Singh, 
 as the servant retired; "and I can do a good service, if it please you, 
 my lord, to join in it or aid it." 
 
 "If it be a service to the King's cause, why not? " said the Khan; 
 " but none of thy blood feuds, Pahar Singh ; thou canst not use the 
 royal troops for thine own purposes." 
 
 "JS'or do I need them, my lord," returned the chief, somewhat 
 stiffly. "I have enough men of my own to answer for those matters; 
 nay, indeed, for this also, if I have your permission ; and only that 
 my rascals are somewhat too free of hand to be trusted in a town at 
 night, 1 had done it myself ere this." 
 
 " Thanks, friend, for thy caution," said the Khan, smiling; " we 
 shall know each other better by-and-by. But what is this scheme? '^ 
 
 "When I left you. Khan Sahib, the night of Jehandar Beg's 
 execution," replied the chief, " I had knowledge that Tannajee Ma- 
 loosray was in the city, and I knew where he was. My people watched 
 every bazar and street during the day, and we had a strong party near 
 the Goruk Imlee trees, thinking he might like to come and see an old 
 friend for the last time ; but he kept close, like a bear in his den, till 
 night, and then stole away. My boy and some of my people wanted 
 to catch him in his den ; but I knew Tannajee could not be taken 
 alive by mortal, and I wanted to see him sit hke Jehandar Beg under 
 the trees, and die like a man ; so I took a body of my horse and rode 
 after him towards Tooljapoor, where he was going. We occupied 
 the pass at Hortee. But he escaped us there, Klian ; and hearing 
 afterwards he had gone to Jutt, there appeared to be no use in follow- 
 ing him, as he had twenty-five coss start of us. But I was a fool, 
 my lord ; and for once Tannajee outwitted me. He went on next 
 day to Tooljapoor; how, I know not. He was seen there in the temple, 
 and he left again that night, no one knows whither." 
 
 " To Tooljapoor in one day!" exclaimed the Khan, "no horse alive 
 could do it." 
 
308 TABA : 
 
 *' Ah., my lord, your higli-fed beasts would not, but ours can ; and 
 Tannajee and liis friend Netta Palkur have tbe best mares in the- 
 Dekban. No matter ; be escaped us." 
 
 *' He was — be is — tbe very bone and sinew of tbis rebellion," said 
 the Khan. 
 
 ** True, as Sivaji Rajah is tbe spirit; but be left some of tbe bones 
 behind him at Tooljapoor," returned the chief, with a grim smile ; 
 "and I can pick them up for you, my lord, if you will either help me 
 or let me do it alone as best I can ; only remember, if the town is 
 plundered, you know tbe cause, and I am not responsible for tbe 
 blame." 
 
 "That you had better avoid, friend," said tbe Khan, "you are badly 
 spoken of already. But tbe bones, good fellow, the bones ! who or 
 what are they ? " 
 
 "Ah! I had forgotten them," continued Pabar Singh. "Well, 
 there is Moro Trimmul, Maloosray's agent and shadow ; as wily, and 
 more mischievous. He is still at Tooljapoor, pretending to give 
 recitations, — and they are very good, my lord, in their way, — and to- 
 serve at the temple ; but I am not sure that one of the Moorlees is 
 not at the bottom of it, and when a man gets into women's bands, be 
 is easily caught. Then there are all those who will assemble there. 
 Have you remarked, my lord, that hardly one of tbe heads of the old 
 Mahratta families have come to present their Nuzzurs to you ? " 
 
 "I have remarked it," returned the Khan, "but supposed they 
 were afraid of some demand for forage, or horses, or money, and 
 therefore kept clear of me." 
 
 " Not at all," returned the chief, "they have all sworn to aid 
 Sivaji, and Maloosray took an account of their quotas of borse and 
 foot with him to the Rajah." 
 " Then they met Maloosray ? " 
 
 " They did, my lord, the night he came to the temple, and here are 
 their names. There are other people, you see, who have ears and 
 eyes besides Maloosray ; and only that your Naib at Tooljapoor is an 
 owl, be bad seen this conspiracy long ago, while I was too busy to 
 watch it. Better, perhaps, he did not ; we can do our work more 
 securely. And now, do you wish to seize tbis gang of rebels or not ? 
 I advise you to do so, because they are strong, and, should there be 
 any difficulties in the West, are capable of making a serious diversion, 
 especially if Maloosray, or even this Brahmun, — who is more of a 
 soldier than a priest, — get among them. These Mmbalkurs and 
 Ghorepf^rays, my lord, quiet as they look, are heavily supported by 
 tbe people ; and if the Ramoosees rise with them, the country will be 
 ill a fla-me." 
 
 " And how dost thou know all this, Pabar Singh ? " asked the 
 Xhan. " I must have some warranty that it is true." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 309 
 
 " Some montlis ago, my lord," he replied, " this very Moro Trim- 
 mul and others canvassed me as to joining Sivaji's band, and offered 
 me whatever terms I pleased to ask. I refused, for 1 was content as 
 I was." 
 
 " That means," remarked the Khan dryly, " that thou wouldst 
 have joined them if there had been anything to be got by it." 
 
 " My lord is still incredulous," returned the chief, *' and perhaps I 
 deserve doubt till I have given him further proof. But I feel the 
 King's hand on my head still, and his pardon is more to me than 
 promises, of Mahratta, or Moghul either." 
 
 *' Good ! " said the Khan ; " it is well said, and I believe thee. But 
 about these rebels ; are they still there ? and how many may there be 
 of them?" 
 
 *' Th^y are there, my lord," replied the chief. " I was in the 
 temple last night disguised as a Byragee, with my nephew and four 
 others : we heard the recitations from the Ramayun, which, to 
 Hindus, are very much what the Peer Sahib is saying now in the 
 m.osque yonder, and said yesterday at the Eedgah on the plain, when 
 the whole force shouted ' Deen, deen ! ' and it sounded like thunder. 
 Jey Rao Nimbalkur was there, and some of the Kallays " 
 
 " How many ? " said the Khan, impatiently interrupting him ; 
 ** what care I for their teeth-breaking names ? " 
 
 "Five hundred perhaps, including followers." 
 
 *' And is this temple a strong place ? Do we require guns ? " 
 
 " Strong enough to defend if they knew you were coming," 
 returned Pahar Singh, '' but for the most part they will be unarmed, 
 and looking at the show. We need only cavalry to surround the 
 town, and no one can escape us. No guns, my lord ; they could not 
 be taken up the mountain at night, and ours must be a surprise, else 
 the temple will be dark as midnight." 
 
 *' Ya Alia ! ya Kabiz I" (destroyer of enemies), muttered the Khan 
 to himself, " a rare trap for these Kaffirs — let them die ! Good," he 
 continued ; " it shall be done ; but when ? I should march to-morrow 
 for Sholapoor." 
 
 " Do so, my lord, and halt at Tandoolwaree ; 'tis half way. I will 
 join you there with some of my people the day after to-morrow, and 
 lead you by a pass in the hills which I know of at night, so that we 
 can surround the place unobserved. Take some of your own men 
 and Ibrahim Khan's Abyssinians ; they know no fear, and are more 
 certain than the braggart, plundering Dekhanies, who are afraid of 
 the Mother who sits in the glen, though they are Mussulmans." 
 " What Mother, friend ?" 
 
 " Only she in the temple ; we Hindus call her the * Mother '; an(\ 
 she, my lord, must not be touched." 
 
 ^ "No, no ; nor her people, I will see to that," said the Khan. 
 
810 TABA : 
 
 " And the affair must be kept secret, Kb an/' lie continued. 
 
 " It is known to thee and me, Pahar Singh, and to no one else ; 
 not even my son shall know of it till we march." 
 
 " Now let me depart," said the chief, " and the night after next I 
 will come." 
 
 " God willing," replied the Khan, dismissing his strange visitor 
 with a courteous salutation. 
 
 CHAPTER LIII. 
 
 On her return home, Tara being still asleep, Radha could not conceal 
 from Anunda the agitation which the scene with her brother had 
 caused her. As she reached the inner apartments, she threw herself 
 upon Anunda's neck, and the terror she felt at what she considered a 
 narrow escape from death, found relief in a flood of tears. The par- 
 ticulars of that scene she dared not fully relate : but Anunda gathered 
 enough from her to believe that Moro Trimmul had threatened, if not 
 struck his sister, and that Tara's suspicions were but too deeply 
 founded. 
 
 If Anunda had not felt assured of Tara's purity and devotion to 
 the worship of the goddess, in its spiritual sense only, she would 
 have prevented, at all hazards perhaps, her assumption of service as 
 a devotee. It was, she knew, one of the trials to which the girl 
 would be subject so long as her beauty remained, that her public 
 avocation would expose her to the gaze of all classes of people — the 
 most persistent and dangerous libertines, perhaps, being priests of her 
 own sect. But the act of Tara's profession of service was so sudden, 
 so unlooked for, and had been carried out so immediately, that there 
 was no time to consider the consequences. 
 
 Now, too, it was impossible to recede. Once she had vowed herself 
 to the dread goddess she dared not retract, nor could any attempt 
 be made, as they believed, to withdraw her without danger. Many 
 instances of such partial service and relinquishment of it, capricious 
 or meditated, had come to her knowledge, which had been followed by 
 sudden death, or, what was worse, loss of reason and raving madness. 
 
 Well, therefore, might the sister- wives tremble at the consequences 
 of transgression, even by temporary withdrawal of Tara's service. 
 It was the first thing that Radha counselled ; but, under the instances 
 of punishment which she enumerated, Anunda declared it to be 
 impossible. She could not — dare not — expose Tara to such risk, 
 nor herself be the means of it ; and, indeed, she was assured that 
 Tara would never agree. Gradually, however, Anunda's naturally 
 cheerful and sanguine spirit took courage. 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE, 311 
 
 " We cannot prevent men's eyes wandering to tliat sweet face," she 
 said to R/adlia, as she gently waved a fan over Tara, wlio still slept 
 heavily, *' no more than I can prevent them looking at me if they like, 
 or thee, Radha ; but we can protect her from insult and shame, and 
 she is too pure to be approached or spoken to. No ; he may look as 
 he pleases, but he dare not speak to her : for thy sake, for the sake 
 of his own honour and station as a priest, he dare not ; and his looks 
 she shall not fear — I will prevent them." 
 
 "Nevertheless," replied Radha, "let her not visit the temple for 
 several days to come, or, if she goes, we will both accompany her. 
 This will give her fresh assurance, and in a few days he will be 
 gone." 
 
 E-adha, however, knew her brother well — better than Anunda. 
 She knew that, with any scheme against Tara in view, no matter 
 what it might be, she was incapable of watching him so completely 
 as to defeat his intentions ; but she could at least be wary, and gain 
 imf ormation of them, and a small purse of money with which Anunda 
 supplied her, given to Chimna, gained her constant information 
 of her brother's movements, such as she could not otherwise have 
 obtained. 
 
 Moro Trimmul, however, to all appearance ceased to pursue Tara. 
 For several days she did not visit the temple. She herself feared 
 collision with him, and kept away. But gradually, a sense of neglect 
 of her daily duty, the loss of the satisfaction which had resulted from 
 it, and the dread of o:ff ending the terrible Being in whose exacting 
 service she believed, — wrought on her mind so as to render inaction 
 intolerable. 
 
 And no wonder now. Her own small household tasks, which had 
 previously occupied her leisure hours, had been resigned to Badha ; 
 the temple service required her presence for the greater part of the 
 morning and afternoon; and her studies, and some needful rest, 
 absorbed the remainder of the day. Now that she remained idle at 
 home, therefore, the time hung heavy on her hands, and she sighed 
 for the occupation and excitement which had become habitual to her; 
 while the yearning to serve " the Mother " — never to be absent from 
 her — grew stronger and stronger day by day, with a fascination she 
 could not resist. Day by day those weird, glowing, eerie eyes 
 seemed to follow her about, seek her in her sleep, and by turns 
 threaten or entreat her. 
 
 "Mother," she said at last, and after a few days had passed in 
 restless idleness at home, " I feel that my life here is not what it was. 
 The Mother's eyes follow me, and she sits at my heart day and night. 
 Why dost thou not come to me, Tara ? she says ; fear not, but come ; 
 no one dare harm thee, and I would have thee near me. This she 
 whispers daily when my time of service comes, and I am here and 
 
312 TABA : 
 
 not witli her. O motlier, 1 fear no longer ; slie gives me strength, 
 and I will go. What can he do to me ? The dread of him is gone 
 from me." 
 
 "We will go with thee, daughter," replied Annnda, " and remain 
 with thee daily. Before us, he dare neither look nor speak; and 
 perhaps, too, thy suspicions were misplaced." 
 
 "Perhaps," she replied; "and why should he do me wrong? I 
 should be sorry if I had thought ill of him without a cause." 
 
 So they went. The first day Moro Trimmul was not there. On 
 the second they met him, and received his distant and courteous 
 salutation. He did not even come to speak to his sister, and turned 
 away directly. Gunga was present on both occasions ; and on the 
 first day Tara was surprised, and perhaps somewhat gratified, by the 
 manner in which she and some of her sisterhood met her ; offered 
 her garlands of flowers, even put them into her hands, and tied them 
 like bracelets round her arms, and into her hair. 
 
 " You have been ill, sister," said Gunga, deferentially and respect- 
 fully, "and we have done your work, and offered flowers for your 
 recovery to the Mother. Ah," she continued, " because we are poor, 
 and not as you are, Tara, do not look coldly upon us ; have we not 
 one common Mother, and are we not sisters in her ? So think of us, 
 and we will be your slaves and fellow- servants ; for she has loved 
 you more than us, and sent you pure among us. We know, too, you 
 are already changed to us, for we have received the daily offerings 
 as you have kindly directed." 
 
 Poor Tara, there was no guile in her loving heart which bred or 
 fostered suspicion. Wliat could she think but that those callous 
 minds had relented towards her ? and perhaps the very offerings, 
 which she had thoughtlessly made over to the attendant priests, had 
 been the original cause of all their apparent enmity. Day after day 
 the Moorlees' respect seemed to increase ; and while her work was 
 rendered lighter, her repugnance to acknowledge them as co-servitors 
 seemed to lessen. With all indeed, except Gunga, the respect was 
 sincere, and the deference unfeigned ; but with her, intercourse 
 seemed only to fan the flame of revenge burning at her heart : and 
 while she repressed it with difficulty in public, in private she yielded 
 to it with all the unbridled rancour and jealousy of her nature. 
 
 Against Tara, therefore, these evil notions were now, for different 
 reasons, in perpetual and active combination. It was no part of 
 Moro Trimmul's plan to excite further suspicion. Brooding over 
 fancied neglects and slights, as well as revenge for hopelessness of 
 passion, had, as Gunga rightly guessed, mastered the softer feeling 
 of admiration and love for the gentle object of them ; and the desire 
 of his life now was, to crush relentlessly and deface the purity which 
 he could not appreciate. His sister, he believed, had kept his counsel, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 313 
 
 for she had made no further remonstrance ; and the first occasion on 
 which Tara came with her father only, and trusted herself to the 
 companionship of the priestesses, was hailed by Gunga and the 
 Brahmun as conducive to their success. 
 
 We can believe that the worthy Shastree himself was utterly 
 unconscious of any element of disturbance in his quiet household. 
 He was perfectly satisfied with his new wife, and was even growing 
 to love her dearly. He was not demonstrative — very learned and 
 studious men rarely are so, perhaps ; but Radha studied his dis- 
 position and his wants, and, without interfering with Anunda's 
 prerogatives, was supplying them unobtrusively and lovingly ; and 
 he felt what he could not fail to appreciate — the action of another 
 tender hand about his daily life. 
 
 With Moro Trimmul he continued on the best of terms — nay, his 
 love and admiration of the man was much increased. These recitations 
 in the temple, the disputations on logic and law, the evident know- 
 ledge which Moro possessed of the more secret rites and mysteries of 
 the Shasters and Tantras, increased the Shastree's respect. If Moro 
 Trimmul would not come to the house as often as he wished, he was 
 at least no stranger in the temple, and in the ceremonies now pro- 
 ceeding, he was of the greatest possible use. He now frequently 
 spoke of his approaching departure, which only depended upon letters 
 he should receive from his Prince ; and it was an event which, on 
 every account of private and public intercourse, Yyas Shastree was 
 disposed to regret exceedingly. 
 
 CHAPTER LIV. 
 
 The night of the Amawas, or that which immediately precedes the 
 new moon, is necessarily the darkest of every month, and for several 
 days previous to it the sky had been overcast, as it frequently is at 
 the season we write of, though without rain. The ceremonies in the 
 temple would be protracted till, according to the astronomical cal- 
 culations, the old moon had passed away and the new one begun, 
 which was some time after midnight. The concourse in the town 
 was perhaps greater than usual. Several of the Mahratta chiefs 
 were still there, each with a complement of followers ; and others 
 who lived within a day's journey, were arriving one by one, to attend 
 the last series of recitations which would be given until the next 
 full moon. It was understood, also, that this was the last night on 
 which Moro Trimmul would ofiiciate ; and his picturesque style of 
 declamation was more attractive than the measured and monotonous 
 manner of the elder Pundits. 
 
314 TABA : 
 
 By tlie afternoon, therefore, tlie main bazar of Tooljapoor had 
 become a very lively scene. The number of people already in the 
 town was increased hourly by the arrival of visitors from the populous 
 villages round about, and even from Darasew, Thair, Baimlee, and 
 others within a day's ride ; and as evening drew in, the passes lead- 
 ing to the town from below, and the roads, too, from the level country 
 above, still showed parties, — some on horses, some on ponies, on foot, 
 or on oxen, — pressing forward to be in time for the opening cere- 
 monies, which would commence as the lamps were lighted. 
 
 Sweetmeat-sellers — parched rice — and chenna friers, were driving 
 a brisk trade in the bazars, and their booths were crowded with 
 customers receiving their several quantities hot and hot, as they 
 could be prepared. The night would be far advanced ere the whole 
 of the ceremonies were concluded, and, once seated, no one could 
 move. Many a careful dame, therefore, had tied up a bundle of 
 sweet cakes before she left home and carried them on her arm ; — others, 
 with less foresight perhaps, were making provision for the night at 
 the stalls we have mentioned : — while flower- sellers were threading 
 garlands of jessamine and motea blossoms, and, indeed, of many 
 wild flowers, from fields and hedges, in lack of other materials. 
 Sellers of Pan leaves, tobacco and betel-nut — incense- sticks and 
 pastiles — and oil for the lights of the shrine — were all as busy as a 
 throng of eager purchasers could make them. 
 
 Among this crowd, the Shastree, with Anunda, Radha, and Tara, 
 were making their way to the temple before the assembly should 
 render the courts impassable. With the Shastree, who was walking 
 before the women, was Moro Trimmul, who had dined at his house, 
 and who was now on his way with him to the recitation. Chimna, 
 two days before, had reported to Radha that her brother was about 
 to leave. He had, the man said, purchased a palankeen and hired 
 a set of bearers for it, and others had been sent on the road to 
 Sattara,'so as to form relays for a night's journey : and, except him- 
 self, and one or two who were to be mounted, the other servants were 
 to follow. Indeed, intimation of his intended departure had been 
 made that day privately to the Shastree and to his sister by Moro 
 himself. 
 
 He was afraid of staying, he said. Afzool Khan had arrived at 
 Nuldroog; the force there was about to march to Sholapoor, and 
 thence westward. If he preceded it, he could travel unnoticed, other- 
 wise it would be impossible to move at all in its rear, or to pass it 
 without making a considerable and inconvenient detour. As danger 
 threatened the Maharaja, he must be present to share it ; and he would 
 return as soon as the storm, which was about to burst, had blown over. 
 
 It was no more than all had expected and some had hoped for. 
 *So long as her brother's presence was a source of no actual uneasiness 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 31a 
 
 to Radha, she was thankful to see him, although she feared a re- 
 newal of his threats to her as regarded Tara ; but since her last inter- 
 view with him, she had been possessed with a dread which beset her 
 night and day, either that he would do something desperate, as 
 regarded Tara, or that, in revenge for her not having assisted his 
 licentious purpose, he would put his threat, as regarded herself, — 
 whatever it might be, — in execution. 
 
 His proposed departure was, therefore, a positive relief, and, in 
 making the communication to her, Moro Trimmul had carefully 
 acted his part. He deplored the recent scene and his own violence. 
 " Tara's love," he said, " was hopeless as it was criminal ; and he 
 thanked his sister for having saved his honour in regard to that mis- 
 placed affection. Girls who married could not always keep their 
 relatives with them : better indeed it were so, and in her case par- 
 ticularly ; for no doubt he had enemies, and were he denounced to 
 Afzool Khan, he should have some difficulty in escaping." 
 
 Could any one have doubted all this, or suspected that any sinister 
 motive lay below it ? Impossible ! It was the literal truth in most 
 respects, and open to no breath of suspicion. 
 
 To Anunda, and especially to Tara, the event was one of positive 
 rejoicing. The good matron had, as we have seen, no objection to 
 Moro Trimmul until Tara's suspicion had been aroused ; and, secure 
 in the effect of her own precautions, she had become utterly in- 
 different whether he remained or not. But with Tara it was other- 
 wise ; his presence was the only check on her enjoyment of daily life. 
 Were he gone for good, her services, her household love, would be . 
 freed from the incubus which had deadened her existence while he 
 remained, and she would be saved from any apprehension for the 
 future. On all these considerations, therefore, the female members 
 of the Shastree's family descended to the temple that night, with 
 joyful and thankful hearts. 
 
 We know, however, partly what Moro Trimmul had determined 
 upon, and how he had proposed to execute it. So far as she was 
 concerned, the girl Gunga had never faltered in her plan. The only 
 stipulation she made with Moro Trimmul was, that she should 
 accompany him, — an arrangement to which he was very unwilling to 
 consent. On this point, however, he found her utterly unrelenting.. 
 When she saw his desire to be rid of her, she declared that she would 
 not only retire from the affair altogether, but would denounce him to 
 the Shastree and to every Brahmun in Tooljapoor. She defied his^ 
 threats ; and he knew, by previous experience, that no words could 
 turn her from any purpose which she had in view, and without her 
 co-operation the execution of the plan was quite impossible. What 
 she proposed to do he knew not, she would not tell him ; but he had 
 provided a stout horse for her which, with his servants and the litter^ 
 
316 TABA 
 
 were to wait in the ravine below the temple. He did not fear pursuit. 
 The Shastree kept no horse. He could not obtain the services of any 
 horsemen from the authorities at night. Who would care for the 
 ravings of a Brahmun, whose daughter, a priestess of the temple, had 
 eloped, as it would be considered, with her lover ? True, Anunda 
 might revenge herself on Radha, — but to that, the Shastree, for his 
 own honour, would hardly consent. 
 
 So they descended the steps into the lower court of the temple 
 together ; and while Tara, her mother, and the Shastree entered the 
 vestibule to make their salutation to the goddess, Moro Trimmul 
 excused himself on pretence of bringing his books, and went round 
 to the back of the shrine, where, near the wishing-stone,* he found 
 Grunga and several of the priestesses sitting idly on the basement, 
 basking, as it were, in the evening sun then setting. We have said it 
 had been a gloomy day, even now the heavens were overcast : but 
 towards the horizon the clouds were open, and a bright gleam of red 
 light had broken through them and fell upon the temple and sides 
 of the glen in striking brilliancy ; while the rich dresses of the girls, 
 and their heavy gold and silver ornaments, glistened and sparkled in 
 the glowing colour. 
 
 Gunga had apparently been giving some description of her new 
 ^old anklets ; for, as Moro Trimmul turned the corner, she had slid 
 down from her seat, and was moving her feet as to produce a faint 
 clashing sound. 
 
 " One need not even put on the bells with these," she cried to her , 
 friends, " listen how well they will sound to the music, and I shall 
 dance to-night as the processions move round." 
 
 As she spoke, the girl swayed round several times, half circling 
 one way, then another, tossing her arms in the air in time with the 
 steps in which she was moving her feet. There was something in 
 the lithe grace of her figure which struck Moro Trimmul as a new 
 charm, and he stopped to watch it for a few moments ere he was 
 noticed. Perhaps the thought she was not observed, perhaps the 
 certainty that she should that night triumph over her rival, ha,d ex- 
 cited Gunga more than usual ; for she had thrown into her movements 
 ■a spirit and beauty, — a majesty of motion, — as it might be called, 
 which was inexpressibly attractive. 
 
 *' If thou dance like that to-night," cried one of the girls, " thou 
 wilt win back that lover of thine, Gunga. If he were mine I should 
 not quarrel with him. Ah ! " she screamed, "there he is : what if 
 he has heard me ! " and, sliding hastily from their seats, she, with 
 the rest of her companions, fled round the corner of the building. 
 
 * A large Btone placed on the rear basement of the temple. Votaries are 
 directed to place a hand on each side of it, and make a wish. If it turns to the 
 right, the wish will be granted j if to the left, otherwise. 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE. SIT 
 
 Gunga did not move, but covered her face v^itli tlie end of her 
 garment. 
 
 " If I had known " she said. 
 
 "Thon wonldstnot have danced so well/' he returned, interrupting 
 her. "Bj Krishna ! girl, not even the Gopis of Muttra danced more 
 lovingly before him than thou didst then in those few turns. Dance- 
 like that to-night, and I shall not be able to resist thee." 
 
 " It would be a pity to turn thee from Tara now," she said, with 
 scorn, " so I shall not dance at all. Art thou ready ? " 
 
 " Yes ; I have taken leave of them, and prepared everything," he 
 replied. " Chimna will bring the horses and litter into the ravine,, 
 and wait near the steps for us. Thou hast the key ? " 
 
 " Look," she cried, crossing to the door, which was only a few 
 steps distant, and partly opening it, " it is already open, and the key 
 is here in my bodice. We can lock it outside, and throw the key 
 into the bushes. When I beckon to thee, come, for I will entice her 
 here ; but if thy heart then fail thee, Moro Pundit, beware " 
 
 He had need in truth to do so ; but there was no occasion for 
 threats, they did but provoke him. "Enough," he said, "we must 
 not be seen together here. I will not fail thee." 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 Just then, a company of well-equipped horsemen, in number about 
 two hundred, rode into Afzool Khan's camp at Tandoolwaree ; and 
 the same gleam of sun, which had broken through the clouds and 
 shone on the temple at Tooljapoor, and upon Gunga as she danced, 
 caught the tips of their long spears, — and sparkled upon matchlock 
 barrels, the bright bosses of their shields, and the steel morion of the 
 leader. 
 
 There was no regularity of dress or equipment among the horse- 
 men, but the fine condition and spirit of their horses, and the manner 
 in which they moved, proved them to be accustomed to act together,. 
 as the look of the men gave assurance of their being well tried in 
 war. In their front was a man on a piebald horse, over which were 
 slung two large kettledrums, which were occasionally beaten with a 
 sonorous sound by the person who sat behind them : and two men, 
 both round-shouldered, one of whom carried a small green standard, 
 with a white figure of Hunooman, the monkey god, sewn upon it, 
 rode beside him, one on each side. Pahar Singh was true to his word ; 
 and, entering the camp at a time when his arrival would create no 
 particular observation, proceeded to some vacant ground in a field on 
 the west side of it, where, drawing up his men, he bid them dismount^ 
 
318 TABA : 
 
 and, without unsaddling their horses, tether them and await his 
 coming. 
 
 *' What is the uncle about to-night ?" said our old friend, Luksh- 
 mun, to the kettle- drummer, as the halt was made, " and why do we 
 stop here ? He told us we were to go on to Sholapoor, to prepare 
 forage for the Khan's army." 
 
 The man laughed. "Ah, brother! " he said, "dost thou not yet 
 understand the uncle's ways ? ISTow, to my perception, as he has come 
 to the west of the camp, we shall have to go east. Home, perhaps, 
 who knows ? — the devil, — if this be one of his errands, — as it most 
 likely is. Certain we have something to do out of the common way, 
 else he would not have stayed apart all day nor picked the men and 
 the mares ; nor would he have brought you and llama and the young 
 master. Well, we shall soon see, for he has gone o:ff to the Khan's 
 tents, where a Durbar appears to be going on." 
 
 "Yes, he may be waiting for orders," returned the hunchback. 
 " May the Mother give him luck of them ; — better luck than we had 
 in that wild ride after Maloosray, when neither mud, nor stones, nor 
 rivers, stopped us ; and when we drew breath at the Hortee pass, 
 you could have heard the mares breathing and snorting a coss off ! 
 That was not the way to catch Maloosray ! Yes, he had done too 
 much that day ; and the blood had got up into his eyes and head," 
 he continued, after a pause, and wagging his head wisely, "but he is 
 cool now ; what will he do ? " 
 
 " Something," said his companion ; " what do we care ? Now, 
 help me to get these kettles off the mare's back, Lukshmun, else I 
 shall be whipped if he comes and finds them on. Ho, Rama, come 
 and help, brother. What ails thee ? art drunk ? " 
 
 " May thy tongue rot," replied that worthy, dismounting from hia 
 mare ; " who told thee I was drunk ? " 
 
 " Well, then, art thou sober ? if that please thee better," returned 
 the man, laughing. " But what ails thee ? thou hast not spoken a 
 word since we set out." 
 
 "No matter, my eyes are blinded with blood," returned Rama 
 sulkily. " What we are to do to-night will be evil. I saw an omen 
 I did not like before we set out, and three hares have crossed us since. 
 Is that good? I tell thee I cannot see in that direction," and he 
 pointed to the west, " for the blood that is in my eyes." 
 
 "The sun is bright enough, Rama," said Lukshmun, laughing, 
 ^' and the liquor was strong, brother. Thou wilt see better by-and- 
 hj, when the night falls." 
 
 "Peace, ill-born," cried Rama, aiming a blow at him with his spear- 
 shaft ; " only thou art my brother I had put it into thee." 
 
 " 111 or well born, we came of the same mother," retorted Luksh- 
 mun ; " as for me, with this hunch on my back, by the gods, thou 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 319 
 
 sayest true. But go to sleep, my friend, and get tlie blood out of 
 thine eyes ; I like it not. He is generally right when he says this," 
 continued Lukshmun to the kettle- drummer. "Yes, we shall have 
 work to do, and some of us may have to sup with the gods to-night. 
 I pray it may not be Rama, for his wife is a devil ; and as for his 
 children — cubs of a wolf are easier to manage." 
 
 Leaving these worthies to discuss the probabilities of the night, 
 which was also the theme of conversation among the men, we may 
 follow Pahar Singh and his nephew to the Durbar tent ; where, 
 seated at its entrance, were Afzool Khan, his son, the Peer, and 
 other officers of the force, enjoying, as it were, the cool breeze of 
 evening ; while reports were heard and read, papers signed, and 
 orders given. Carpets had been spread for some : others sat on the 
 bare ground, or on their saddle-cloths, removed for the purpose. All 
 seemed merry, and the Khan's face was beaming with pleasure. He 
 was, in truth, enjoying his old life, and his spirits had risen with it, 
 with the hope, not only that Pahar Singh would not fail him, but in 
 the capture of the chief malcontents of those provinces, that he 
 should strike a deep blow at the root of the widespread Mahratta 
 confederacy. 
 
 Pahar Singh and his nephew dismounted, and, advancing, offered 
 the hilts of their swords to the Khan and those near him in succes- 
 sion, and while receiving and replying to their welcome, took their 
 seats among the rest. " Our time will come, Gropal," said the chief ; 
 "wait patiently, they will send for us after the evening prayer." 
 
 He was right. As the sun set, the assembly broke up. Perform- 
 ing their ablutions, as a priest sang the Azan, or invitation to prayer, 
 they again collected, marshalled by the Peer, who took his seat in 
 front, looking towards Mecca. All present, joined by hundreds of 
 others from the camp, knelt on the ground in ranks, and obeying his 
 movements, rose — bowed themselves — or kneeled, in unison — as the 
 various changes of the Moslem liturgy required. When the service 
 was over, all, wishing each other peace, with the blessing of God and 
 the Prophet, separated for the night. 
 
 " Come into my tent," said the Khan to Pahar Singh, " thou art 
 welcome. What of the work ? " 
 
 " I am ready," he said ; "I have two hundred of my best people 
 with me." 
 
 " And I am not behind thee ; my people are ready also, and wait 
 thy pleasure," replied the Khan. 
 
 " Who is this, father ? " cried Fazil, who now entered, having 
 remained to speak with some friends. Fazil had not recognized the 
 Fakeer of the King's Darbar, nor the Jogi of the temple ; but there 
 was a vague impression on his mind that he had seen the face under 
 other circumstances. 
 
320 TAR A : 
 
 " Paliar Singh, son ; dost thou not know him ? " he repHed. 
 
 " A brave youth, the worthy son of a brave sire, may not object to- 
 receive the oiJering of an old soldier," said the chief, putting out his 
 sword-hilt to Fazil, who touched it courteously ; "and he shall have 
 his share of the work if he may, Khan Sahib." 
 
 " What work ? what is this ? " whispered Fazil to his father, and 
 taking him a step aside. " Do not trust him — he is one of them — 
 all men say so. He is not true." 
 
 "He is as true as I am," replied the Khan. "I have already 
 proved him, and thou wilt know all by-and-by. He has received the 
 King's pardon, and confirmation of all his possessions. Do not 
 doubt him, for he can render important service." 
 
 " Enough, father," said Fazil aloud ; and, turning to Pahar Singh, 
 "Where you go I will follow ; but who will lead us ? " 
 
 " I will lead one party, and my son here another. Come thou with 
 me, Khan, and send thy son with mine," replied the chief promptly. 
 
 " Where are we to go ? " asked Fazil. 
 
 " We cannot say till we are on the road," said the chief, smiling. 
 " ' Thieves,' they say, ' have longer ears than asses.' I have one of 
 my trumpeters here ; and when it is time to move, a shrill blast will 
 be blown : till then, eat and make your preparations, as I will mine ;'^ 
 and saluting them, Pahar Singh and his son walked to their horses, 
 and, mounting them, rode away. 
 
 " And do we go with them alone, father ? " asked Fazil, following 
 the chief with his eyes, and in a tone of apprehension. 
 
 " No," said the Khan, " the order I gave for the Paigah and the 
 Abyssinian horse to march to-night to Sholapoor is for this service,, 
 and we shall lead them." 
 
 " Excellent," cried Fazil joyfully ; " then I fear nothing ; but who 
 is this Pahar Singh ? Surely I have seen him before." 
 
 " Certainly, in the Durbar at Nuldroog, when the deed of confir- 
 mation was given to him." 
 
 " I was not there, father : I heard of it." 
 
 " Ah, true ! Well, then, dost thou remember the Kullunder 
 Fakeer of the King's Durbar ? " 
 
 " Protection of Grod! " cried Fazil ; " ay, and the Jogi of the temple. 
 Strange, I thought I had seen those eagle eyes somewhere. I had 
 not forgotten them. Now, father, I will go with him ; but tell him not 
 that I was at the temple. He might resent the death of his follower, 
 and recede from us." 
 
 " An excellent caution, son ; no, he shall never know it." 
 
 " What are the Abyssinians getting ready for ? " asked the Peer, 
 who came up at that moment. " Some secret service at Sholapoor, as 
 Ibrahim Khan tells me ? There is no mutiny, no disaffection. Khan ?" 
 
 "It is a secret service, my friend," replied Afzool Khan, smiling, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 321 
 
 " and Fazil and I are going wifh them ; but there is no mutiny, or 
 cause for any, and we do not go to -Sholapoor." 
 
 " Where, then ? " cried the Peer. " Let me come ; nay, I will take 
 no denial : whither thou goest I will follow." 
 
 "It were better not, Huzrut," replied the Khan; "it will be a 
 rough ride, and perhaps some rough work at the end of it ; neverthe- 
 less, as thou wilt. Come, sirs, we had need to eat first. Come, Bis- 
 miUa ! " 
 
 CHAPTER LYL 
 
 "A DAEK night, my lord," cried Pahar Singh, as the Khan and his 
 son, accompanied by the Peer, rode up to a large fire which, kindled 
 by dry thorns from the hedges, sent up a ruddy blaze high in the air 
 as some loose fodder was thrown on it, displaying the tall form of the 
 chief, as he stood there with his nephew and several others, " and ye 
 are welcome ; and here are the rest, too," he continued, as the fore- 
 most men of the body of cavalry crowded up, the strong light 
 revealing the dark faces of the Abyssinians and the noble horses on 
 which they were mounted. " Bismilla ! as ye say, let us mount and 
 depart." 
 
 " I have not kept you longer than I could help," said the Khan, 
 "and the men are divided into bodies, as you directed, under their 
 own leaders. With me are some of my people, and the noble Ibra- 
 him Khan himself with his ; and I will remain with you as you pro- 
 posed. The rest of my men go with my son." 
 
 " When we get near the place, Khan," said Pahar Singh, " I will 
 give directions. And now, beat the drum, Lukshmun, and do yon 
 and Hama look after the guides — you know the road ; go on, and 
 beat the drum occasionally to let us know where you are." 
 
 " I would it were daylight, father," said Fazil ; "it will be no easy 
 matter guiding all those men in the dark." 
 
 " Fear not, my lord," cried Pahar Singh, " we shall see better 
 when we are away from those fires, which only blind us. The roads 
 are dry, and your Beejapoor horses don't fear stones. In three 
 hours or more we shall be near the place, then a rest, and some 
 arrangements ; and after that you can give your own orders, and we, 
 your servants, can execute them. Come, sirs, we can strike into the 
 road at the end of the field by the trees." 
 
 " Shall we have no torch on this unsainted errand ? " said the Peer, 
 rather peevishly. 
 
 "Huzrut," said Pahar Singh, "this is hardly work for a man of 
 God, and the roads are rough. No ; we must manage with what 
 
322 TABA 
 
 liglit tlie sky gives us, for we have to deal with wary people, and 
 'twere a pity to take the Khan so long a night ride and show him no 
 sport. If you are afraid the road will be too rough, do not come : 
 but ride with the force to-morrow." 
 
 " Afraid ! " cried the Peer contemptuously. " I, a servant of God, 
 afraid ! Astagh-fur-oolla ! If there is any work to do, thou shalt 
 see whether a priest cannot strike as hard a blow as a layman. The 
 Khan can bear me witness that wherever he goes I am ever beside 
 him.'' 
 
 " Pardon me," cried the chief, laughing, " I will doubt no longer. 
 I only fear that, in catching thieves, there may be less need for our 
 swords than for contrivance to outwit them." 
 
 " And may not we know how, father," cried Fazil, riding to his 
 father's side, as they reached the end of the field, "what this con- 
 trivance is, and where we go ? " 
 
 " To Tooljapoor, my lord," replied Pahar Singh in a low voice, not 
 so as to be heard by the Peer : " a nest of traitors is assembled there, 
 and we need to take them out of it. Keep together, now, I pray ye, 
 gentlemen : I must ride before all for a short distance, and will rejoin 
 ye by-^nd-by." 
 
 *' Tooljapoor ! " exclaimed the Peer, when Pahar Singh had disap- 
 peared, "a nest of idols and thieves, indeed. The haunt of a devil 
 in the shape of an old woman, whom they all worship. I know her, 
 with her red eyes ; and when I have seen the idolatrous Kaffirs bow 
 down before her by thousands, I have longed for the sword of our 
 lord the Prophet to be among them. ' Inshalla ! ' when " 
 
 " Peace, Huzrut," said the Khan, in a soothing tone, interrupting 
 him. *'I have promised that the temple and the idol come to no 
 harm, on condition of taking none who are there, and " 
 
 " Well, well. Khan," returned the Peer impatiently. " I am not a 
 E/Oostum, to slay all the unbelievers myself, or to overturn that abode 
 of devils ! Do as thou wilt, friend ; do as thou wilt. I will not 
 strike till thou dost — till I hear thy war-cry ; after that — ' Futteh-i- 
 Nubbee ' (Victory to the Prophet) say I ! " 
 
 ''Ameen!" said the Khan dryly, "but I trust there will be no 
 need of it. Come, Fazil, let us turn into the road and keep it, before 
 the main body comes up. Listen," continued the Khan, as they rode 
 on by an open pathway among the fields of tall corn. " His plan is 
 for the town to be surrounded above, and a ravine below to be 
 blocked up. He would give thee the latter work, son, as the people 
 will try to escape thence." 
 
 " By the Prophet, an excellent plan," said the priest, — " no better 
 could be devised. A few horsemen across the mouth of the glen 
 will catch all that come out of the temple like fish in a net. I know 
 the place well. No one could get up the sides of that glen at night, 
 — no, not one." 
 
 I 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 323 
 
 '' I would rather go with thee, father," said the yoang man ; " my 
 place is with thee ; surely any one could manage below, and if there 
 be danger " 
 
 " There will be no danger, son," he returned : "these people will 
 be caught in their own trap, worshipping their horrible idol, and 
 will be unarmed. I shall keep outside the gates, and watch for the 
 fugitives. Pahar Singh knows the men he wants, and will take his 
 own people and some of the Abyssinians inside. If needs be, we 
 can meet in the temple, but there must be no question in regard to 
 this arrangement, which even the Peer ratifies." 
 
 " Surely, my lord," said the priest, "it is the fittest in all respects; 
 and Pahar Singh, considering that he is an infidel and robber, seems 
 a man of some propriety of manner, and is doing our lord the King 
 good service." 
 
 " Dost thou remember the cry, ' Ulla dilaya to leonga ! ' and the 
 tall KuUunder who brought the Wuzeer's papers to the Durbar ? " 
 asked the Khan ; " that was Pahar Singh." 
 
 " Ulla dilaya to leonga ! " exclaimed the priest. " Yes, I remember. 
 ' Pana-i-Khoda ! ' (protection of God) was that he ? Then the night 
 before there was the same cry in the fort as I left the King ; could 
 that have been he also ? I thought it might have been some drunken 
 KuUunder, as they said it was." 
 
 " The night before Khan Mahomed was killed ? " cried the Khan 
 and Fazil in a breath. 
 
 " Yes ; why do you ask ? " returned the priest ; " it was near 
 morning." 
 
 " It was curious enough," said the Khan carelessly, " but those 
 KuUunders are very early ; they like to be on foot when the women 
 are grinding at their mills, to get a handful of flour." 
 
 "Yes, it was about that time," said the priest unsuspiciously, and 
 the conversation dropped. 
 
 It was almost impossible to reunite again; for the road, which 
 was pretty broad and free from stones at first, shrunk to a narrow 
 path, through cornfields on each hand, and it was difficult for more 
 than two to ride abreast with comfort ; and sometimes, indeed, that 
 even could not be managed. They passed several villages at irregular 
 intervals, and proceeded without check or halt. Pahar Singh, for the 
 most part, rode in front of his own troop ; but returned occasionally 
 to the Khan and his son, who, being between the advanced guard 
 and the main body, were unimpeded by the crowding which else- 
 where unavoidably existed. 
 
 Whether it was that their eyes had become more accustomed to 
 the darkness, or that the gloom of the first part of the night had 
 relaxed in some respect, it hardly signified ; for, without betraying 
 their presence at any distance, there was light enough to distinguish 
 
324 TABA : 
 
 tlie path ; and to follow, withont miicli inconyenience, tlie men who 
 preceded tliem. These were, as we know, ignorant of their destina- 
 tion : and most believed it might be Puraindah, or somewhere on the 
 western frontier, where disturbance had occurred. 
 
 Those in advance, however, halted at length; and the rushing 
 sound of the trampling of the heavy body of horse, which had con- 
 tinued through the night like a dull hoarse roar behind, gradually 
 grew fainter as the mass of men collected and stood still. The Khan 
 and his son, with the Peer, were speculating as to whether that was 
 to be the place of divergence, when Pahar Singh and his nephew 
 rode up, and at once put an end to the doubt. 
 
 "We separate here," he said; "and this, Meah Sahib, is my son 
 who will lead you ; you will find him true and intelligent. Do not 
 go to Sindphul," he added to Gropal Singh ; "Lukshmun knows the 
 high-road to Rutunjun by Uljapoor, and that will take you close 
 under the pass between Sindphul and the town. Keep in the hollow 
 near the river, and when you hear our shouts above, turn into the 
 ravine, and get up as far as you can. We will give you time before 
 we ourselves move into the temple." 
 
 A few words of farewell, as father and son dismounting, embraced 
 each other ; a commending of each other to God and the Prophet ; ' 
 and Pazil and his father separated. 
 
 The ground on which they had halted was level, and covered with 
 thick corn-fields, which extended, almost unbroken on their left hand, 
 to the south ; but on their right, small watercourses and ravines 
 rendered any passage between the road westward and the hills im- 
 possible. Where they stood, the hills were low, and a passage or 
 gap in them to the right was pointed out by Pahar Singh as the 
 direction of the main body : in front, they appeared to grow higher, 
 and a bluff termination of one bay, which stood out a dark gloomy 
 mass against the sky, was pointed out by Pahar Singh to the Khan 
 as near the town, and a light which seemed at times to glow in the 
 air about its brow, as the illumination of the town and the temple. 
 
 Ibrahim Khan, and several other officers of minor rank, had now 
 joined the group, and in a few words Pahar Singh explained how 
 they were to act. One body would turn to the right close to the 
 town, and guard the roads towards Little Tooljapoor and Boree ; 
 another party would spread to the left, on the plain which led to the 
 top of the pass ; the third, which would be commanded by Pahar 
 Singh and Ibrahim Khan, would enter the town and seize the temple 
 gate, where there could be no egress for any one except through it, 
 or the postern below. Up the precipices of the glen, and over the 
 high walls of the temple, escape was impossible. 
 
 "Come, sirs," said Pahar Singh, after a delay which, to the Khan, 
 appeared intolerably long ; " they are now near enough : follow me;" 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE. 325 
 
 and, turning his horse up the pass, the men, taking the direction 
 from those in advance, moved after them as fast as the stony nature 
 of the ascent would allow. 
 
 It had been a rare night of enjoyment to the crowds assembled in 
 the temple, and attracted by the unusual amount of entertainment, the 
 town itself was nearly deserted by its Hindu inhabitants, who — men, 
 women, and children of all ranks, classes, and ages — had betaken 
 themselves to the lower court, whic.h was as full as it could well be 
 packed : the people sitting in rows, as we have described on a 
 previous occasion, on the ground, or perched upon terraces, the 
 roofs of houses, and upon that of the vestibule. 
 
 As the night wore on, and the assembly seemed in no humour to 
 separate, Anunda, foreseeing the confusion which would arise when 
 the ceremonies should conclude with the last procession, had pro- 
 posed to Tara, as she joined them for a while in their accustomed 
 seat on the roof of the vestibule, to retire before the crush began ; 
 but Tara herself was in the highest spirits : she had no fear of Moro 
 Trimmul ; he had not so much as saluted her or seemed to notice 
 her. Gunga and the other priestesses had exhibited a flattering 
 deference, assisted her to bring garlands, and danced before her, as 
 the processions passed round the shrine, singling her out as their 
 object of respect — almost of adoration. 
 
 Few who had noticed Tara that night — and who did not ? — ever 
 forgot the triumphant looks and gestures of the seemingly inspired 
 girl as she moved lightly and gracefully before the priests ; or the 
 sweet, thrilling voice, which seemed to rise high above the rest in 
 the solemn hymns and chants of the ceremony. She felt secure in 
 the protection of her father, and even of the other girls, who had 
 besought her to stay till all was concluded; and the Jast service, 
 more solemn and more meritorious than the preceding, would be at 
 the sacred hour of the moon's change. 
 
 " Do thou and Eadha go," she said ; "it will be well. I cannot 
 leave anything unfinished, else the Mother will be angry, and I shall 
 regret it. I will stay near the shrine, and return with my father." 
 
 Anunda did not object, and she and Radha, congratulating them- 
 selves upon having left early enough to escape inconvenience, gained 
 the gate of the temple unobserved, and made their way through the 
 deserted streets without interruption. There was no one in the house ; 
 all the women-servants were absent at the ceremony. The watch- 
 man who guarded the outer door of the house — one of the here- 
 ditary Ramoosees of the town — sat with two of his men in the porch, 
 and, when the women came in, asked leave to go and see the last 
 procession, which was readily granted ; so they were left alone ; but 
 without apprehension. 
 
326 TAEA 
 
 From tlie terraced roof they looked out for some time, for tlie 
 brilliant illumination lighted up the temple spires, and from the large 
 oil-cressets a heavy smoke arose, which, floating above the temple 
 and its glen, caught the glare below, and ascended high into the air ; 
 and so stillwas the town, that the measured cadence of the recitation 
 could be heard, though not the words ; while occasionally a burst of 
 music or solemn hymn suddenly broke the silence, which was other- 
 wise oppressive. 
 
 Radha heard her brother's voice when his turn came, and listening 
 to it, wept silently. When should she see him again ? — would absence 
 cure the madness that now possessed him ? 
 
 "Weep not, child," said Anunda, throwing her arm around her, 
 and guessing her thoughts ; " it is well he goes. When he departs, 
 thou wilt trust us the more, and be dearer unto us." 
 
 CHAPTER LYII. 
 
 Meanwhile the rites proceeded, and the recitations. Moro Trimmul 
 was declaiming, with unusually excited gestures and eloquence, the 
 impassioned passages which had been assigned to him, often inter- 
 rupted by the cries of " Jey Kalee ! Jey Toolja ! " and the clapping of 
 hands which proceeded from the people whenever a favourite senti- 
 ment or allusion to the glorious days of Hindu power occurred in the 
 text. Before concluding his part, which was the last of the night's 
 performance, he had withdrawn to the back of the temple, and 
 beckoned to Gunga, and a brief colloquy passed between them. 
 
 There was no faltering in the purposes of either. Grunga had 
 noticed the departure of Anunda and Radha with exultation which 
 she could hardly conceal. She had gone to Tara after she resumed 
 her position at the shrine, touched her feet, and thanked her for 
 remaining. Other priestesses, too, had crowded round her, and, 
 excited as they were, all united in determining that the last procession 
 should be unusually remarkable. 
 
 " See," said Gunga, as she came to him, "all is ready. There is 
 no one by the door inside ; but try it, and ascertain who are outside. 
 Be thou ready only, and trust to me for the rest. Nay, I will come 
 with thee— look ! " 
 
 The place was dark, for there was no illumination behind the 
 temple, and by its mass a broad shadow was thrown on the recess in 
 which the door was situated. The girl stepped into it, followed by 
 the Brahmun, and opened the door slightly. A number of dark 
 forms were sitting without on a small terrace, from whence descended 
 a flight of steps into the ravine. One rose. " Wagya ! " she said in 
 a low voice. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 327 
 
 " I am here, lady," lie replied ; " is it time ? " 
 
 "Not yet. When the next procession passes round the corner 
 yonder, come out to look at it ; you will not be noticed. Have you 
 the blanket?" 
 
 ''It is here," he said, holding one up; "and they are all ready 
 yonder," and he pointed to the trees, where there w^as a dull glow as 
 of the embers of a small fire — "palankeen, horses and all." 
 
 " Be careful of her as you carry her out," she continued. "If she 
 is hurt " 
 
 The man laughed. "There is no fear," he said; "she will be 
 carried daintily like a child, and cannot struggle in this." 
 
 " Grood," she replied; "now be careful, and watch." 
 
 "Art thou satisfied ? " she continued to Moro Trimmul, who had 
 remained behind the door. 
 
 "Yes; thou art true, Gunga. I am true also, and here is the zone; 
 put it on, and let it shame hers," he replied, taking the ornament 
 from underneath his waistcloth where he had concealed it. 
 
 " Ah ! " she cried, taking it and clasping it round her waist, "thou 
 art " ^ . ^ 
 
 "What is that ? " he cried, interrupting her and catching her arm; 
 " there is some disturbance without. What can it be ? Listen ! " 
 
 " I will look," she said ; " stay thou here." 
 
 She turned the corner of the temple, but could proceed no farther. 
 Every one had risen : and there was a wild, struggling, heaving mass 
 of people before her, from among which piercing shrieks of women 
 and cHldren, mingled with hoarse cries of men, were rising fast in a 
 dreadful clamour : while several shots, discharged in quick succession 
 at the gate above, seemed to add to the general terror and confusion. 
 
 " They are fighting at the gate! " cried a man near her; and a dry 
 of " the Toorks, the Toorks ! " followed in agonizing tones from the 
 women. 
 
 Gunga did not hesitate. She, perhaps, of all that crowd, was the 
 most collected. Darting to Moro Trimmul she said hastily, "Do not 
 move — I will bring her ;" and so passed round to the back of the 
 temple. As she did so, she met Tara and several other girls, some 
 screaming, others silent from terror, but evidently making for the 
 postern. 
 
 " My father ! Gunga, my father ! " cried Tara piteously, " come 
 with me, we will find him. Come ; 1 have none but thee, Gunga, 
 who dare seek him ; come with me !" 
 
 " Tes," she said, "round this way; I saw him a moment ago. 
 Come, we will get down the steps ; I know the way up the mountain 
 from below. Come !" cried Gunga with a shriek; and seeing that 
 Tara hesitated, and that people were crowding through the vestibule 
 into the dark portion of the court, and hiding themselves among the 
 cloisters, — she caught her arm and dragged her forward. 
 
328 TABA 
 
 Moro Trimmul saw tlie action, and, unnoticed in tlie confusion, 
 seized Tara from behind and bore ber to tbe postern. The girl's 
 shrieks seemed to ring high above all others in that horrible tnmnlt, 
 bnt they were quickly stifled in the blanket thrown over her, while 
 she was borne rapidly down the steps by those stationed there, to 
 whom Moro Trimmul resigned her. 
 
 " Thou canst not return, Moro," said Gunga, who had closed and 
 locked the door unobserved and flung away the key ; ^' let us fly for 
 our lives. Hark ! they are fighting within, and may follow us." 
 
 " O for my sword to strike in once for those poor friends ! " cried 
 Moro Trimmul with a groan. " They have been seeking me, and the 
 rest will suffer. What art thou but liar and murderess, Toolja! 
 that thou dost not protect thy votaries ? must they perish in thy 
 
 very presence ?" 
 
 " Hush, and come fast," cried Gunga, dragging him down the steps. 
 " Fool, wilt thou die with the rest ? Away ! mount and ride for thy 
 life ; I will bring her after thee." 
 
 The Khan and his companions, as they had arranged, separated 
 into three bodies as they reached the town ; and as they filed off to 
 the right and left in succession, the Khan, with the Peer and others, 
 rode into the gate, and secured it. They had met no one outside the 
 town ; inside were a few of the royal soldiery on duty, who, them- 
 selves surprised, could have made no opposition, even had the Khan 
 been an enemy. 
 
 Down the centre street, which was also empty, except of stragglers 
 coming from the temple, the horsemen poared, now pressing on fast 
 from the rear ; and a body of them, dismounting in the centre of the 
 town, rushed forward down the bazar to secure the entrance to the 
 temple. Then some people, who were advancing, saw danger, and 
 hastened to warn those in charge to shut it, turning back with loud 
 shouts, others coming on. A party of the Nimbalkur's men, who 
 were in attendance with their chief's horses, and were around the 
 entrance within, mounted the small bastions at the sides, while others 
 shut the doors. 
 
 Those who reached them first were Pahar Singh and Ibrahim Khan, 
 with some of the Abyssinians and other followers, mingled together, 
 each striving to be foremost. 
 
 " Open the gate ; we mean no harm," cried Pahar Singh in Mah- 
 ratta; "we are on the King's service, and if you resist, your blood 
 be on your own heads ! " 
 
 " We will admit no one," cried a voice from the bastion. " Go I 
 ye arc robbers, and we will fire on ye." 
 
 " I say it again," returned the chief, "we are a thousand men, and 
 .1 cannot save you if you hesitate. Open the gate ! " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 329 
 
 There was no reply, but several matchlocks were pointed from the 
 parapet above, which was loopholed. 
 
 '' Hast thou the axe, Rama ? " asked the chief. 
 
 "It is here," said the man, drawing a heavy axe-head from his 
 waist : and, coolly fitting a helve to it, lifted it above his head. 
 ^' Shall I?" 
 
 " Strike ! " cried Pahar Singh. 
 
 Several heavy blows fell on the gate, and a man called out from the 
 bastion, " Desist, or we fire." 
 
 But Rama heeded no warning. Again two crashing blows, struck 
 with his full force, had splintered some of the wood- work, and he 
 had uplifted his arm for another, when one of the men at a lower 
 loophole fired. Rama swayed to and fro for a moment, and, falling 
 heavily to the ground, the blood gushed from his mouth in a torrent. 
 
 Pahar Singh did not speak, but he gnashed his teeth in fury. 
 Rama, of all his inferior followers, was the one most devoted — and 
 was brave to recklessness. The chief saw that the shot must have 
 been deadly. He might have shared the same fate ; but the men 
 without, his own as well as the Abyssinians, returned the fire, and 
 distracted the aim of those within. 
 
 "By " and the oath was lost in the clamour — ^he cried, putting 
 
 his sword between his teeth, seizing the axe, and striking at the door 
 with his whole force, " ye shall die, sons of vile Mahratta mothers. 
 Every one of ye shall howl in hell for tiiat poor fellow." 
 
 Blow after blow followed ; and as the panel near the lock broke 
 under them, a number of the chief's men and the Abyssinians rushed 
 against the door, which gave way under their combined weight and 
 force, and entrance was effected. 
 
 On the noise of the first shouts reaching them, the Khan, the priest, 
 and others, rushed down the street, and arrived at the scene of action. 
 The firing was increasing, and several of the Khan's followers and 
 Abyssinians had fallen. Some were already dead, others wounded ; 
 and, wedged as they had been in a m.ass, every shot had told on them, 
 while those who defended the gate could not be seen. Its being forced, 
 however, changed the feature of the contest ; and the Khan, who, in 
 the heat of the excitement, forgot his caution and warning to the men, 
 now shouted his battle-cry ; while the priest, straggling in with the 
 rest, cried to the men — " Bismilla ! — in the name of God and the 
 Prophet — slay, slay — ye true believers ! Heed not death — ye wdll be 
 martyrs ! Let not the Kaffirs live, who have killed the faithful. Send 
 them to hell, to perish with their devil's idols. Kill ! kill !" 
 
 With such cries, had men of Islam been hounded on by their priests 
 before. Was he to be less? Here, in the very holiest of infidel 
 temples, should the might of Islam be felt. 
 
 But, in truth, the men needed but little excitement ; what was 
 
330 TABA 
 
 there before them was enough. Who did not remember that it was 
 a Jehad, a war of the faith, which had been preached to them daily ? 
 Who did not remember that to slay infidels in war earned the blessing 
 of the Prophet and paradise ? So, with Pahar Singh leading them, 
 liis sword between his teeth, and striking down men right and left 
 with every blow of his axe, the infuriated soldiery rushed in a body 
 down the steps and into the large court below. 
 
 Who can describe the scene ? Shrieking women and helpless men 
 strove to fly before them, but in vain ; and the bloody work of their 
 enemies, as they pressed forward, hewing with their long sharp 
 weapons at the unresisting masses, was quick and deadly. Pahar 
 Singh saw Nimbalkur and several other chiefs standing resolutely 
 before the entrance to the shrine, sword in hand, awaiting the onset. 
 " Yield," he cried, "your lives will be spared ; why shed blood ? Jey 
 Rao, be wise, down with your sword;" — andfqr an instant the parties 
 stood opposite to each other glaring defiance. But bloodshed was not 
 yet to be stayed. Some of the infuriated Abyssinians again dashed 
 into the mass of the people with a shout of " Deen, Deen ! " striking 
 indiscriminately at all before them, and the Mahratta chiefs were 
 swept into the temple. As they were followed, Vyas Shastree, who, 
 remembering his old skill in v/eapons, and unable to control himself, 
 had seized sword and shield and mixed with the rest, — struck at a 
 huge negro who was foremost, and wounded him severely. 
 
 "Dog of a Kaffir," cried the man, grinding his teeth, "get thee to 
 hell ! " and had not his arm caught that of a fellow-soldier who was 
 near, depriving the cut of its force, Yyas Shastree had spoken no 
 more. As it was, the blow descended upon his bare head, — ^he fell 
 senseless among the crowd of dead and dying, — and those who 
 entered the temple, trampled over him as one of the slain. 
 
 Pahar Singh's object was to save the shrine if possible, but he felt 
 himself helpless against the crowd of Moslems who, headed by the 
 priest, now filled the vestibule, shouting their fanatic cry of " Deen, 
 Deen!" Life was dear to him, dearer than the idol, for which, in 
 truth, he had no particular veneration, though he had dread. " If 
 thou canst not save thyself, Mother," he muttered, " I am not going 
 to die for thee," and, stepping aside, the men of Islam pressed on. 
 
 The priest was among the foremost to enter the sanctum, where 
 two old Brahmuns, cowering beside the altar, were instantly slain ; 
 and, seizing the necklaces of pearls and precious stones, he tore them 
 away from the neck of the image, with one hand flinging them out 
 among the people, while with the other he overthrew it, and, tramp- 
 ling it underfoot, spat upon the face in scorn and contempt. 
 
 If the men in the temple courts, impelled by religious fury, 
 showed no mercy, and, hunting unresisting men and women into dark 
 corners, slew them indiscriminately till the areas were fiilled with 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 331 
 
 dead and dying, lying in heaps as they had fallen by the sword or 
 had been trampled down ; those who had remained outside were, in 
 their turn, no more humane. Under the cry of " Deen, Deen ! — for 
 the faith, for the faith ! " more cruelty was perpetrated in Tooljapoor 
 than it has ever since forgotten ; and daylight revealed a scene of 
 plunder, rapine, and destruction, such as may be conceived — but 
 hardly described. 
 
 Anunda and Radha were safe at home, as we have already related ; 
 when, after an indistinct murmur, for which she could not account, 
 the shots at the temple gate were suddenly heard ; and, looking from 
 the terrace, they saw the confusion in the court commence. Both 
 were brave, but the terror of Anunda for her husband and Tara, was 
 fast paralysing her senses. 
 
 " I will die here,'^ she said ; " take the wealth and jewels and leave 
 me. Escape as thou canst, Radha ; hide thyself, Moro will come and 
 seek thee." 
 
 But Radha would not leave her; and, descending to the lower 
 apartments, they sat cowering in their chamber, shivering at every 
 sound, and, having extinguished the light, remained in utter 
 darkness. 
 
 " Lady, lady ! " cried a man's voice in the outer verandah ; " where 
 art thou?" 
 
 "It is Janoo Naik, the Ramoosee," said Anunda in a whisper. 
 " Grod reward him for coming ; he is true ; Radha, let us go with 
 him." 
 
 " Lady, lady ! the house is not safe ! come, come," continued the 
 man earnestly ; " leave all — my people will guard it — only come. 
 Your honour is more than wealth, and you can only save it by flight." 
 
 The terror of violence brought them forth. " Follow me," he said ; 
 " here are twenty men to guard the house — no one will molest them." 
 
 The women followed silently, sobbing as they went. The Ramoo- 
 see led them northwards out of the town to the edge of the great 
 ravine, and descended a steep path, which they knew led to a spring 
 in one of the broad steps or ledges of the mountain, near which was 
 a recess in the rock familiar to bofch. " Stay here," he said; " no one 
 can see you. I must return : here, I should only betray you." 
 
 " At least, take away our ornaments," said Anunda ; " we dare not 
 keep them. Keep them thyself, or hide them somewhere ;" and the 
 women hastily took off all they wore, and laid them on the ground 
 before him. 
 
 Janoo sat down on his hams, and counted them deliberately. 
 " There are thirteen pieces, large and small, gold and silver together. 
 Yes, they are safe with me. Now, take my blanket, though it be a 
 Mang's; sit in it till daylight. Ye can bathe afterwards and be 
 clean. I will come early if I can, and take ye down the hills to 
 Afsinga, or else send my son." 
 
SS2 TARA 
 
 So saying, and without waiting for a reply, lie left them, ascended 
 the path rapidly, and disappeared over the ledge of the mountain; 
 and the women remained, shivering with fright and cold, and listen- 
 ing in terror to the shots, which rose above the confused roar of 
 screams and shouts proceeding from the town. 
 
 On the other side, in the ravine, the progress of the band who 
 carried o:ff Tara was but a short one. Struggling vainly with her 
 captors, she found resistance hopeless. Borne in the arms of two 
 men, others held her hands and feet ; and over her one of the thick 
 coarse blankets of the common people had been thrown, which 
 prevented cry of any kind. Tara felt that the men were gentle with 
 her, and in spite of her terror, she retained her senses completely. 
 She was aware that she was taken down the steps, and hurried along 
 rapidly at a run ; then there was a pause, and she was thrown into — 
 rather than placed in — a palankeen, the doors shut to violently, and 
 kept closed. They were carrying her away. Who could it be but 
 Moro Trimmul, that was to leave that night ? Even now her father 
 might hear her screams, and terror lent strength to her voice ; but in 
 vain — succour from him was indeed hopeless. 
 
 As may be supposed, nothing had prevented the progress of the 
 party under Fazil and Gopal Singh ; and the latter, a pleasant com- 
 panion, had amused the young Khan with anecdotes of his uncle, and 
 of their border life. He knew the ground perfectly, and they soon 
 reached their destination ; and while part of his men were drawn up 
 between the rivulet and the pass, and some even ascended the pass 
 itself, he conducted Fazil into the temple glen, which turned to the 
 right out of the main ravine. At its mouth was some level ground, 
 and the horsemen had just occupied it when the attack began above. 
 
 It would have been impossible for the bearers of Tara's litter to 
 carry it over that rough path in the dark ; and as she had been put 
 into it, a torch was lighted, which was instantly seen by Fazil and 
 Oopal Singh. 
 
 "Not a word from any one," cried the latter; "some one is escap- 
 ing. They cannot get away from us. Now, Meah, be careful." 
 
 " Strike, if any one resists," said Fazil to the men about him ; " but 
 it is better to take them alive. Look, 'tis a litter — who can it be ? 
 Peace, all of you ; be silent ! " 
 
 The gloom of night and some bushes concealed them, and the 
 advancing party saw and suspected nothing. Moro Trimmul was 
 riding in front, Gunga following him. The palankeen was behind 
 with the Ramoosees and servants around it on all sides. The 
 baggage-ponies had already gone on before. 
 
 " Stop ! " cried Fazil, as he laid hold of the Brahmun, and held his 
 naked sword over him. " Who art thou ? — nay, struggle or attempt 
 to escape, and I will kill thee. — A Brahmun ? Who art thou ? " 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 33a 
 
 Moro Pundit liad had no time to dress himself for the journey. 
 His clothes were in the palankeen. Naked to the waist, with his hair 
 streaming about his shoulders, he had come as he had been reciting. 
 He had no weapons, nor means of resistance ; and, though a power- 
 ful man, was no match for Fazil, who held him like a yice. 
 
 "Moro Trimmul, by the gods! " exclaimed Gropal Singh, who 
 recognized him as the light from the torch fell upon him. "Ah, 
 Maharaj ! " he added, " you don't know me, but I have seen you 
 before." 
 
 " Then we are indeed fortunate, friends," said Fazil joyfully ; " and 
 who is in the litter ? " 
 
 "My wife," said the Brahmun sullenly; "do as ye will with me^ 
 but let her and the servants go on." 
 
 " Then thou hast married only lately. Pundit ? " said Gropal Singh 
 dryly ; " thou hadst no wife three days ago. We had as well look at 
 her, at all events, Meah, and prevent her screaming." 
 
 " Open the door ! release me! release me ! " cried Tara from within 
 in piteous accents. " Let me go ! let me go ! Ah, sirs, for your 
 mothers' honour, release me ! " 
 
 "Art thou his wife? " asked Fazil, dismounting and opening the 
 door of the palankeen; "if so, fear not, we have no war with 
 women." 
 
 " Not so ; I am not his wife," cried Tara hastily, disengaging her- 
 self from the litter, and throwing herself at Fazil's feet. " O sir, save 
 me ! Noble sir, by your mother's, by your sister's honour, save me 
 from him ; he would have carried me away. Nay, I will not rise till 
 you tell me you will take me to my father. return with me and 
 rescue him, else he will be slain ! Come, I will lead ye back ; he is 
 a priest of the temple ! " 
 
 " It cannot be, girl," said Fazil, more disturbed by Tara's beauty, 
 and more agitated than he cared to acknowledge to himself. " It 
 cannot be till daylight, and no one will touch your father if he be a 
 Brahmun ; so sit in the litter and fear not. And thou art not his 
 wife ? " and he pointed to Moro Trimmul. 
 
 " O no, my lord," said the girl trembling ; " you have been sent by 
 the Holy Mother to deliver me, else he would have carried me away 
 by force. Do not give me to him, I beseech you." 
 
 " Fear not," said Fazil ; " no harm shall come to thee here. There 
 is more in this matter than we can now find out, friends," he con- 
 tinued to those about him; "but bind that Brahmun on his horse^ 
 and tie it to one of your own." 
 
 "Ah, sir, I will do that beautifully," cried Lukshmun, "and with 
 his own waistcloth too. But, friends, see that my wife does not run 
 away, while I am busy for the master there — to my mind she is the 
 handsomest of the two." 
 
334 TARA : 
 
 It was Gunga who, knowing tlie path, had turned from it when 
 Moro Trimmul met Fazil, and, shpping from her horse, had tried to 
 escape among the bushes ; but the quick eye of Lukshmun had de- 
 tected her, and he had seized and dragged her forward. 
 
 " May earth fall on thee, dog ! " cried the girl, struggling with 
 him, " foul hunchback as thou art, let me go." 
 
 *' ISTot so," he said, " I know thee, Gunga. My lord, she is one 
 of the Moorlees of the Mother up yonder ; and are not all women 
 taken in war slaves ? " 
 
 " Peace," cried Fazil ; "sit quiet there, girl ; move not, else I will 
 have thee tied. Ah, that will do, friend," he continued, as Lukshmun 
 finished his careful binding up of Moro Trimmul ; *' you have not 
 hurt him ? " 
 
 " Master," replied the man, wagging his head, " it is a plan of my 
 own, and while he is helpless to move, he is in no pain. Is it not so, 
 Maharaj ? Now sit quiet on your horse. Pundit jee, while I look 
 after my wife ; she has a noble gold belt, which she has promised 
 me. Is it not so, O lotos-face ?" 
 
 " My lord," said Gopal Singh, interrupting, ''the disturbance above 
 grows worse — ^had we not as well send the women and others to the 
 rear ? If there is any rush this way, they may come to harm." 
 
 "A good thought, friend," replied Fazil. 
 
 " It is no use," said Gunga, " the door is locked, and the key was 
 thrown away : no one can escape from thence by this road." 
 
 So they remained, while the tumult increased to a roar which 
 filled the glen, above which shots were now and then heard ; then 
 fell to a dull murmur, and finally seemed to die away in the distant 
 town. The temple lights became dim, and went out one by one, 
 and the ravine grew dark. Then the stars shone out, and after a 
 while dawn broke, and the mountain, and the rugged precipices of 
 the glen and town above, were gradually revealed in the grey light. 
 
 CHAPTER LYIII. 
 
 A WEARY delay and suspense had been endured till the day broke. 
 Tara had been told, in kind and respectful tones, by the young Khan, 
 whose protection she had claimed, to rest in the palankeen, and he 
 had considerately shut the door to prevent annoyance to her by his 
 men. So she sat undisturbed, but listening to the fearful din from 
 the town and temple, shuddering at every cry and shriek ; and when 
 all was at last silent, speculating upon the probable fate of her 
 father, and of her mother and Radha, in a dreamy uncertainty, 
 mingled with extreme terror. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 335 
 
 What liad happened ? That the town had been surrounded by 
 the King's troops there could be no doubt ; yet why the violence ? 
 Who could the young leader of the party be, by whom she had been 
 arrested, who spoke her own Mahratta tongue so softly and so 
 well ? A strange thing, for he was evidently a Mussulman of rank. 
 He had looked so grand and beautiful as the torchlight flashed upon 
 his bright steel morion and silvery coat of mail. She had never seen 
 aught like him before. He might resemble the god Ramchunder, 
 she thought, when he went to battle with the demon Rawun ; and 
 she shut her eyes at a vision at once so beautiful and so terrible. 
 Her gentle mind was all confusion, mingled with dreadful and unde- 
 fined anticipation of misery ; yet one thing was clear, she had been 
 saved by that noble youth from Moro Trimmul and Gunga's united 
 design — saved from worse than death. 
 
 The torch carried with her palankeen had been extinguished in 
 the surprise, but the torch-bearer had been detained, and she could 
 see him sitting near the litter pouring a drop or two of oil upon it 
 now and then to keep it alight, yet without flaring. Once it did 
 blaze up, and revealed for an instant the faces of the bearers sitting 
 on their hams in a group, and the horsemen with Fazil in his bright 
 armour standing around them ; bat all were strangers, else she would 
 have spoken again — anything to divert her brooding thoughts and 
 misery. 
 
 As the grey light of dawn increased she could see, trough the 
 small Venetian blinds of the litter, that the royal horsemen stood in 
 groups at a short distance, all with their swords drawn. One party 
 watched Moro Trimmul, who, tightly swathed in a cotton sheet so 
 that he could not use his arms, sat upon his horse, which was tied to 
 another. Gradually she could see his features, gloomy and stern ; 
 savage, indeed, as he writhed in the bandage which he was powerless 
 to remove. Near him, on a strong pony, sat the girl Gunga, covered 
 with a coarse white sheet, which had been thrown over her. A 
 short stout man was holding her pony's head, and his own horse 
 stood beside her. Around were the soldiers, all mounted, and apart 
 from them their young leader, on a powerful white horse, which 
 stood still, tossing its head, and champing its bit occasionally. 
 
 Past this figure, upon which her eyes rested wonderingly, as the 
 growing daylight revealed it more fully, she looked up to the glen, 
 and temple, and town, where all was still — a silence she thought like 
 death. The usual sounds of waking life, the music at the temple, 
 which always played as daylight broke, the earliest morning hymns, 
 and clash of cymbals, were all wanting. They were at the mouth of 
 the glen in a small paddock, near an old temple ; she knew the place 
 perfectly, and many a time had wandered there with her mother, or, 
 with other girls, in search of flowers, and pieces of frankincense from 
 
330 TAEA : 
 
 tlie ancient trees wliich grew among some rained walls. If tlie 
 service in tlie temple had not been interrupted, it would have been 
 proceeding at this hour, and the sound would come clearly to the 
 place where they were ; but the stillness was not broken. The men 
 about her occasionally conversed in low tones or in whispers, but 
 were for the most part silent. 
 
 It was now light enough to move, and the young Khan, calling 
 to the bearers, bade them take up the litter and proceed. They 
 were about to do so, when Tara again renewed her piteous appeal 
 to him. 
 
 " O do not take me away ! " she cried, " O release me ! I can find 
 my way up the mountain. My father was in the temple ; my mother 
 and all my people look for me. O noble sir, what am I to you ? let 
 me go ; by your honour, do not deceive me ! " 
 
 "IS'ot so, lady," said Fazil, stooping from his horse towards the 
 litter. " It is not fit for thee to go alone after last night's disturb- 
 ance ; and there are rough folk up yonder, for whom I will not 
 answer with one so fair as thou art. No one ever relied in my 
 honour that was deceived. Still trust, lady, and I will see thee safe 
 amongst thy people ; fear not." 
 
 " O noble sir,"Jsaid Tara sobbing, " I do trust, I will trust ; but 
 O, give me not to him yonder, who is bound. He would have carried 
 me away, and dishonoured me. O sir, you have been my preserver 
 from this danger, and I kiss your feet. My father is Yyas Shastree, 
 the chief priest of the temple, and we are well known. Take me to 
 him, or send for him, and he and my mother will bless you. O noble 
 sir, deceive not a helpless girl ! " 
 
 " Yyas Shastree ! " cried Gopal Singh, who had overheard the 
 latter part of Tara's passionate appeal ; " then this, Meah Sahib, is 
 his daughter Tara, the strange new Moorlee ; so beautiful that they 
 say she bewitches all men who see her. Art thou not she, O girl ? 
 art thou not Tara, the Moorlee ? Speak truly." 
 
 "I am Tara," she replied, "but no Moorlee. I serve only in the 
 temple." 
 
 " It is a lie," cried Gunga sharply ; " she is a Moorlee, and one of 
 US ; do not beheve her. Was she not dancing in the temple when 
 the disturbance began ? He carry her off, Meah Sahib ? " she cried 
 to Fazil Khan, pointing to Moro Trimmul. " I tell you we had all 
 arranged to go together, and because she is more dainty than I am, 
 he got a palankeen for her." 
 
 " Peace, girl," cried Fazil ; " be not shameless." 
 
 " O noble sir," exclaimed Tara, interrupting him, " heed her not ; 
 -what matter what she says ? only take me to my father, then you 
 will know the truth. Indeed, indeed, I am no Moorlee like her ; and 
 forgive me for saying so much, but you are kind, and sd I speak." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 337 
 
 " Who is this girl ? " said Fazil sternly to Moro Trimmul. " What 
 art thou doing with her ? Is she Vyas Shastree's daughter ? " 
 
 " I give no answer ; find out for yourself. Why do you ask of 
 me?'' replied Moro Trimmul sullenly. " Cut me to pieces, but you 
 get no speech from me." 
 
 " It is no use, Meah, asking him," said Gopal Singh ; "let us take 
 her up into the town, and see after her people." 
 
 "Not yet," returned Fazil. " My father will most likely encamp at 
 that village yonder, among the trees. Let these persons remain here, 
 and we will go and see what they have been doing in the town. Stay 
 thou here, Shere Khan, with the men. See that no one disturbs 
 this girl ; keep the others apart, and wait for us by the trees yonder. 
 Fear not," he continued to Tara ; " I will bring news of thy people ; 
 keep close within the palankeen, and no one can harm thee ;" and so 
 saying, he turned his horse in the direction of the pass. 
 
 " Fear not, lady," said Shere Khan, a fine old soldier ; " he will be 
 as good as his word. Ay, look after him ; the bravest, gentlest, 
 most faithful master that ever men served under. Yes, trust to his 
 honour ; he will not deceive thee, he is too brave and too innocent 
 for that." 
 
 For the time it was a sweet assurance to Tara, and one utterly 
 unexpected ; for Mussulmans — or Toorks, as the Mahrattas called them 
 — had hitherto been terrible people in her imagination ; but the dread 
 for her father lying at her heart had as yet no relief, and her suspense 
 and terror continued. 
 
 Leaving Tara with his party below, Fazil Khan, with Gropal Singh, 
 and others, rode up the pass, as soon as the rugged path could be 
 safely traversed. What had happened in the temple ? It was clear 
 there had been some fighting — that Fazil had expected from the Mah- 
 ratta chiefs ; they would hardly be taken without resistance, and there 
 was an undefined dread lying at his heart, that if the fanatical spirit 
 of the men had been aroused by the Peer, some evil might have been 
 done to the Hindu people or to the temple. Again and again he 
 regretted that that holy person had not been sent on to Sholapoor with 
 the main body of the force, and blamed himself for not having fore- 
 seen mischief. 
 
 Fazil Khan by no means shared the grim detestation of Hindas as 
 infidels, in which his father gloried ; and he had been no willing 
 listener to the denunciations poured out against them by the Peer 
 and other preachers, in the sermons on the Jehad or religious war, 
 which had been preached at the capital and in camp. True, his 
 father and the Peer, as well as others, resented the mingling, under 
 the green banner of the faith, of Mahratta infidels with Moslems ; 
 but Fazil knew them to be good and true soldiers ; and his friend- 
 ship for Bulwunt Rao,^ and experience of his devotion, had changed 
 
338 TABA : 
 
 the young Khan's feelings very materially. Perhaps, also, Bulwunt 
 Rao's character had, in some respects, softened the Khan's dislike of 
 ** infidels," "Kaffirs," as he called them; but on occasions, the old 
 fanatical spirit would break through all restraint, and urge him to 
 deeds for which he had but little remorse. Too justly, therefore, Fazil 
 feared this might have been such an occasion. 
 
 They gained the summit of the pass as the sun's rays, rising 
 through lines of cloud which hung over the eastern horizon, spread 
 like a rosy fan into the blue and yellow sky above, tinging the lower 
 lines of cloud with tints of scarlet and gold, against which the dark 
 purple masses of mountain stretching into the plain stood out in bold 
 rehef . About the space between the town and the edge of the moun- 
 tain, some of the Abyssinian horsemen were distributed in groups ; 
 while further on were other bodies of men, some mounted, others 
 leading their horses up and down. The Nagarchees, or kettle- 
 drummers of each body, were beating the assembly vigorously, and 
 single men were rapidly arriving from other quarters and joining 
 their divisions. Fazil rode on with his companions, looking for some- 
 body he knew, who might give him news of his father, when, from 
 behind a mass of buildings which formed the comer of a street out- 
 side the town gate, a cavalcade approached, led by men of his own 
 Paigah, and in the midst of which rode his father, the Peer, and 
 Ibrahim Khan, the leader of the Abyssinians, accompanied by the 
 tall, martial figure of Pahar Singh. 
 
 A hearty greeting ensued from all, and Fazil saw that his father 
 and the Peer were flushed with excitement, while in the severe 
 threatening aspect of Pahar Singh, there was an expression which he 
 could not define, which might be either habitual — the result of the 
 night's fatigue, or something more — perhaps grief. 
 
 " Come on, my son," cried the Khan cheerily ; "we have ordered 
 up provisions for the men, and can rest here in the Gosai's Mutt, be- 
 fore we ride on to Sholapoor, and get some kicheri cooked, which our 
 friend Ibrahim Khan has promised to see after. Inshalla ! we sent 
 many a Kaffir to hell last night before his time," he continued, twist- 
 ing up his moustaches, " and Tooljapoor will long remember firing 
 upon Afzool Khan's men and killing true believers ! but we did not 
 get that Brahmun of Sivaji's, — what was his name, Pahar Singh ? — 
 though he was there when we came ; and that was a pity. M — M — 
 M " 
 
 " Moro Trimmul," said Pahar Singh, interposing. 
 
 "Ay, that was it — thanks, friend; and what hast thou done, my 
 son?" 
 
 "I have taken him! — that Moro whom ye sought," retm-ned Fazil, 
 " with two women and their servants." 
 
 " Now Alia be praised ! " cried the Peer, " that he fell into thy 
 hands, Meah, for that crowns our work ; and alive ? " 
 
A M AH RAT T A TALE, 339 
 
 "Alive and unhurt, Huzrut." 
 
 " Are yon snre it is he ? " asked Pahar Singh. " There are as 
 many Moro Trimmnls as there are Tannajee Maloosrays ! " 
 
 " Yonr nephew says it is. He, and a humpbacked servant or re- 
 tainer of yours, both knew him," returned Fazil. 
 
 "Yes, uncle," cried Gopal Singh, who now joined the group, "it 
 is the true man ; but he is sullen, and will not speak. We have left 
 him below, safely bound ; Lukshmun is watching him as a dog 
 watches a rat, and there are all the young Khan's men and ours with 
 him." 
 
 " Go, bring him up," said Afzool Khan; "let us examine him, and 
 take his statement." 
 
 " Grood, my lord ; my nephew wdll go for him, if a Hindu may be 
 trusted," said Pahar Singh, as Fazil thought, with a sneer. 
 
 " Certainly," replied the Khan, "let him be brought." 
 
 " And the women, Meah ? " asked Gopal Singh. 
 
 "Not yet," he replied; "let the Brahmun come first;" and the 
 young man, turning his horse, galloped towards the pass. 
 
 " What women ? " asked the Khan carelessly. 
 
 " Two who were with him," rephed his son. " I will tell you of 
 them afterwards." 
 
 The house they were going to was only a few yards distant; 
 Ibrahim Khan rode on, saluting them as he passed, and they dis- 
 mounted and entered. " Embrace me, son," said the Khan, before 
 he seated himself, " and give thanks to God for the victory. Alia 
 has been merciful, and has " 
 
 "Yes, he has permitted his servants to do vengeance on the infidels,", 
 said the Peer, interrupting Afzool Khan ; " the idols of Satan have 
 been overthrown, and their altar sprinkled with the blood of their 
 infidel priests." 
 
 "Protection of God!" cried Fazil; "the temple has not been 
 harmed, nor its people, I trust ? We had no war against priests, 
 father." 
 
 " Not the temple, Meah — not the temple," returned the Peer, 
 rubbing his hands together complacently. " It would take a good 
 deal of gunpowder to blow it up, and we have none ; bat for the rest, 
 the work was well done. Inshalla ! they will not be able to renew 
 their devil-worship ; and when the King, on whom be peace, gives 
 permission, I — I, Peer Syud Bundagee — will come and destroy this 
 house of idols, and build a mosque upon it ; and true believers will 
 be feasted with cow's flesh slain within its precincts. Ul-humd-ul- 
 illa, who hath given us the victory ! " 
 
 " Father," said the young man gravely, "is it as he says ? " 
 
 "Even so, my son, and thank God for it ; and I have vowed to 
 give a thousand rupees to the work, in memory of the victory," 
 replied Afzool Khan. 
 
340 TABA : 
 
 Fazil turned away, sick at heart. Wliat evil might not have been 
 done ? more, even, than his fears had anticipated. 
 
 "And thou hast no congratulation for thy father, Fazil?'' asked 
 the Khan, in a tone of disappointment. 
 
 " father, a thousand that thou art safe through last night," cried 
 Fazil, "and " 
 
 " No rejoicing for victory over the infidels ? " asked the priest, with 
 a sneer. " Thou hast a rare sympathy with them, I know, Meah 
 Sahib ; is this seemly in a Mussulman ? " 
 
 " Not with rebels, not with the King's enemies," returned Fazil 
 quickly ; " but I never warred against priests and women yet, nor 
 did he. What hath been done, father ? " 
 
 "Well, son," replied the Khan, "they would not let us in after 
 those Mahratta rebels, and Pahar Singh there broke down the door ; 
 meanwhile some of our men had been shot, for they fired first, and 
 Huzrut there cried *Deen, Deen ! ' and we all rushed in pell-mell and 
 cleared the court; that is all." He said this apologetically, Fazil 
 thought, and feared to tell the rest. 
 
 " Will you come with me, Pahar Singh ? " said the young man ; 
 " you know the place ; I would see it." 
 
 "Yes, I will come," said the chief, rising, and sighing as he replied; 
 "perhaps it could not be helped, and yet some things were done 
 which will stir Hindu minds sorely throughout the country. Come, 
 Meah Sahib ; it is not a pleasant sight, but I will go with you." 
 
 "Keep the prisoner till I return, father," continued Fazil; "I 
 would fain hear what he says for himself." 
 
 "If thou wilt go, son, return quickly," replied the Khan, "but I 
 had rather thou didst not. What is the use of it ? what is done is 
 done ;" and Fazil thought his father sighed. 
 
 " I would rather see the worst with my own eyes, father," replied 
 Fazil, "than hear lies from others. Come, sir," he added to Pahar 
 Singh, who waited for him, " I attend you." 
 
 " He will be vexed at what he finds," said the Khan when Fazil 
 was gone; "and it will distress his young heart. He has never seen 
 the like, and it requires older eyes, like thine and mine, Huzrut, to 
 look on such sights unmoved." 
 
 "Ay, true," replied the Peer; "but one or two battle-fields will be 
 enough to cure him, and methinks he is over- tender to infidels. Well, 
 we shall see what he advises about this Brahmun, for he is clear in 
 council. The man ought to die." 
 
 " He will not care about the men," said the Khan, musing ab- 
 stractedly, " but about the women who are dead ; and that loving 
 heart of his mother's which she gave him, will be grieved. God 
 knows I would not have had it so." 
 
 " Ameen!" said the Peer, "nor I, Khan. But they were only 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 341 
 
 Kaffirs after all, and did not Feroze Shall, of blessed memory, make a 
 pile of infidels' heads before the gate of Grulburgah fort ?" 
 
 Afzool Khan did not answer — he appeared ill at ease : and the 
 priest, taking his beads from his waist- band, settled himself on his 
 heels, with his eyes shut, assuming an attitude of complacent medita- 
 tion on things divine, as they passed rapidly through his fingers. 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 Fazil and Pahar Singh went out together into the street. The latter 
 led the way through the gate and along the main streets of the town 
 to its centre, where a busy, motley scene now presented itself. The 
 Amil, or local civil officer, was seated in his Kucheri, or hall of 
 audience, surrounded by a crowd of people to whom he was giving 
 orders for flour, grain, butter, sheep, forage, and the other countless 
 necessities of the force which had so suddenly come upon him. They 
 did not pause there, but turned down the main street leading to the 
 temple, the gilded spires and other portions of which appeared at the 
 end of it, the craggy sides of the glen, and, beyond all, the precipices* 
 of the Ram Durra, which were veiled in the blue morning vapour. 
 
 Now there was no doubt of what had happened. The pavement 
 of the bazar, worn smooth by the naked feet of thousands of pilgrims 
 and devotees in centuries past, was stained with blood which, as they 
 advanced, was still wet and slippery in many places. Already had 
 the town scavengers begun to wash it away, and were pouring vessels 
 of water on the flags and sweeping them with brooms. A few shops 
 only were open for the sale of flour, butter, and groceries, the owners 
 of which sat ^within, with scared faces, evidently in the direst terror. 
 
 " They lay thick here,'' said Pahar Singh — the first words he had 
 spoken, "but have been removed, and they are burying them yonder, 
 outside, all together — infidels, as your father would say, and true be- 
 lievers. But stay, Meah Sahib, there is one of my poor fellows lying 
 here in a shop. I thought him dead, but he is alive as yet ; let us 
 look at him. A poor fellow," he said, repressing a sob ; "a poor 
 hunchback, but he was like a dog to me — not a man. Perhaps he 
 may know me now, or he may be dead ; let us see." 
 
 Pahar Singh turned to the right into a small courtyard, in an open 
 verandah of which several rough-looking men were sitting beside a 
 body laid on the ground, and partly covered with a bloody sheet. 
 They rose as the chief advanced, and saluted him. 
 
 " How is he now, Nursinga ? " asked Pahar Singh ; " will he live ? 
 Rama," he continued, bending over the man, whose eyes were 
 evidently glazing fast, "Rama, dost thou know me — the master?" 
 
342 TAJRA 
 
 The man looked vacantly around, hearing the words, smiled, and 
 felt about with his hands, as if to clutch what it was denied him to 
 see. Suddenly, and as the chief put his own hand into that which 
 sought it, the dying eyes brightened, and met those of his master in 
 a scared, wild gaze at first, but one which softened tenderly into a 
 look of rapt affection. He tried to speak, but it was hopeless ; to 
 raise himself by drawing his master's hand to him, and clasping that 
 he had in both his own — but in vain. The lips moved, and Pahar 
 Singh bent his head down to listen. The bystanders could hear 
 nothing ; but Pahar Singh said in his ear loudly, " Yes, it shall all be 
 done — all ; fear not." 
 
 It was enough. Perhaps the man might have lingered a while if 
 he had not been excited; but the old chief's words had suddenly 
 rallied the flickering lamp of life. It had sparkled for a moment, 
 and fell back, dull and smouldering, into the socket ; the eyes again 
 glazed, and the clasped hands relaxed their grasp, tried once more to 
 recover it, failed, and fell powerless beside him, and the rugged 
 bronzed features were fast growing into the strange majesty of 
 Death. 
 
 " It is no use staying," said the chief, drawing away his hand to 
 brush the tears from his eyes, " he will not know me again. Come, 
 Meah; I, too, am growing a fool. See to him, all of you. If his 
 brother come, well and good ; if not, bury him decently, and not with 
 the rest." 
 
 " Have you any retainer who is loved and trusted as you would 
 trust a faithful hound ? " asked Pahar Singh, suddenly turning 
 round as they were walking out of the court. " Ah ! I forget, dogs 
 are impure to you Mussulmans," he continued; "forgive me." 
 
 "Nay, no forgiveness is needed," replied Fazil. " Yes, I have one 
 as true and faithful to me as that poor fellow was to you." 
 
 " What is he ? " asked the chief abruptly — "Mussulman or Hindu ? " 
 
 "Hindu," replied Fazil; "a Mahratta." 
 
 " A Mahratta," cried the chief ; " one of the enemies of your race? 
 I marvel, and yet am glad. Yes, be true to him and he will never 
 deceive you ; he will give his life for you. Only be true, as I have 
 been to mine. Two in a month," he muttered to himself ; " one there, 
 one here ; my best and truest. What matter, Meah ? " he continued 
 aloud ; " sooner or later the message reaches us all. Mine might 
 have come last night, yet I am here." 
 
 Was this the old Jogi of the temple of Beejapoor ? the sordid lover 
 of gold, the pitiless robber and murderer ? A strange contradiction 
 in character as in acts ; and now, sobbing as he walked out into the 
 street, Fazil could see that tears were wet on his cheek, and glistened 
 on the grizzled moustache where they had fallen. 
 
 " He was shot here," said the chief, pausing at the gate, " while 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 343 
 
 breaking it in with his axe, and the shot came from that loophole. 
 When I got in, the man who fired it died with a blow where he sat, 
 so thou wert avenged, my poor hound. But what use is it, Mcah, 
 now my slave is gone ? Come ; you have already seen enough of 
 this misery, and what is below there is worse. Will you go on? " 
 
 ''Yes, I will go,'* returned Fazil. "I would know if one Yyas 
 Shastree was slain, with others." 
 
 "Yyas Shastree, Meah! " cried the chief. "Why, he was in the 
 temple. I saw him. Ah, the poor Shastree, I hope not, for I knew 
 him well — a learned Brahmun, sir ; indeed come, search for him is 
 at least an object." 
 
 It was a terrible sight as they advanced. Why dwell on it ? Many 
 bodies had been removed, and all the wounded ; but many still 
 remained, men and women together, as yet unclaimed, and there was 
 blood everywhere, glistening and drying in the sun. Near the temple 
 porch were several bodies in a heap. Pahar Singh looked at them 
 all narrowly, but the Shastree wa« not among them. One of the 
 temple attendants was sitting in the vestibule, weeping in stupid 
 grief ; the chief shook him roughly, roused him, and he got up. 
 
 " Didst thou see Yyas Shastree? " he asked; "was he hurt last 
 night?" 
 
 "He was killed," said the man, "there," and he pointed to the 
 entrance. " He was fighting, and a negro killed him. Ere day broke, 
 they took him up and carried him away." 
 
 " Dead ?" asked Fazil. 
 
 " Dead," said the man, — " quite dead; I helped to put him upon the 
 litter they brought for him, and they have burned him by this time." 
 
 "And his wife ? " asked the chief, " Anunda Bye? " 
 
 " Seek her at her house," said the man, turning away. " She was 
 not here, nor Radha Bye either. His daughter Tara was here, but 
 no one knows what became of her." 
 
 It was enough. The Shastree was dead. Another man who ad- 
 vanced from behind the shrine said the same, and Fazil need ask no 
 more. He looked around — the place was slippery with blood, and 
 dark, except for a dim lamp in the shrine. He looked in, — the altar 
 was bloody, and the image, its rich clothes torn and dabbled in 
 blood, lay beneath, on its back, as it had fallen. The dim ray of the 
 lamp fell upon it, upon a f cav gold ornaments still about its neck and 
 arms, and upon the weird ruby eyes, that seemed to him to glow 
 with a fiendish expression of malice. 
 
 " Evil spirit," he said, turning away, " if thou art in being among 
 the devils, thou art at least helpless to rise, or to avenge thyself — lie 
 there for ever. Why does the blessed Alia suffer thy abomination? " 
 
 " Come away," cried Pahar Singh to the young man. " Faugh ! 
 the place is evil ; come — go not near the Mother, she may hurt thee." 
 
344 TARA 
 
 *' Do you believe in lier ? " asked Fazil. 
 
 *' I fear her," was the reply ; " she is very greedy and very terrible : 
 she takes life for life, and more besides. Come — we will see after 
 these women : I know the Shastree's honse." 
 
 Life for life, and more besides ! Those words came back with a 
 strange vividness upon Fazil's memory in after times. Then, they 
 but excited a shudder of regret at the superstition which suggested 
 Vthem. 
 
 " that I had come up here, instead of going below ! " said Fazil 
 to his companion. " Had 1 but known the place, I would have done 
 so. my father, why was this done? '* 
 
 " It could not have been stayed, Meah. As they say in Persian, 
 * Shooduni-Shooduni' — what is to be, is to be," returned Pahar 
 Singh ; " nay, for that matter, why did I bring your father and his 
 men at all ? Some of those pig-headed servants of Mmbalkur's 
 began it by shutting the gate, and killing my poor Rama ; and after 
 the Peer Sahib's cry of ' Deen, Deen ! ' you might as well have tried 
 to stop the Beema in flood as the men. All I could do was to save 
 Mmbalkur and others, while the Peer was pulling down the Mother 
 from her altar, and spitting on her. Aha ! holy priest ! we shall see 
 who is strongest, the Mother or thee. Bless Grod for it, Meah, that 
 thy father had nothing to do with that ; and when the Peer proposed 
 to send for cows to slay there, he would not have it done." 
 
 Fazil sighed. It was not that he feared the goddess Mother, 
 though of her power then, as now, there was an undefined dread 
 among Mahomedans, and ceremonies of propitiation, and deprecation 
 of evil, were often performed privately even among the most strict in 
 religious matters ; but he dreaded the effect on the Mahratta people 
 at large. Wo one could know of the true reason of Afzool Khan's 
 advance on the town ; the plunder and desecration of the temple 
 would seem to all to have been the actual purpose ; and the deed 
 would produce a shudder of execration, he well knew, from one end 
 of Maharastra to the other. 
 
 Thus conversing, they reached the upper gate, where one of the 
 men in attendance on the dying retainer met them. The tears on 
 his face needed no speech to explain them. "He is dead," said the 
 man ; "he never spoke afterwards." 
 
 " My poor fellow ! " exclaimed Pahar Singh. " Ah ! Meah, the 
 best swordsman, the best rider — hunchback as he was — the best at 
 all his weapons of all that I have ; and the truest heart too, rough 
 and faithful. Well, no matter now. Is Lukshmun there ?" he con- 
 tinued. 
 
 " !N"o, master, he is not. We have sent for him." 
 
 " Do not delay. Bury Rama at once. I do but accompany the 
 young Khan ; and then the horn will sound. Be quick." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 345 
 
 They passed on, turning to tlie left, into a street which ascended 
 to a higher level in the town. As they proceeded, evidences of 
 plunder and violence were but too visible. Here a patch of blood on 
 the pavement still wet — there portions of cloths, — brass and copper 
 vessels dropped in flight, — doors broken in with axes, and the interior 
 courts of such houses as were entered in dire confusion — women and 
 men alike, weeping and wailing bitterly. 
 
 *' This is the Shastree's house, Meah," said Pahar Singh ; " enter 
 and see." 
 
 There was no one in it. They went to the end of the courts, even 
 to that in which was the temple and Tara's garden, all so trim and 
 neat. The body of an Abyssinian was lying among the flowers, and 
 another of a Mahratta near him. The sacred fire was still smoulder- 
 ing on the altar, and Pahar Singh reverently lifted some logs of 
 wood, and put them on it. Here and there about the rooms were 
 splashes of blood and marks of violence, but none of the room doors 
 were open. 
 
 "Their property is safe, Meah," said the chief; "but who are 
 alive, and who dead? There is no one here. Let us ask the neigh- 
 bours." 
 
 They inquired of several. One man said that Janoo Naik and 
 the town Ramoosees had defended the house and beaten off plunderers; 
 but they knew nothing of the women. 
 
 *' Come," said Pahar Singh to Fazil, " we lose time here. Let 
 us seek Janoo Naik. I know him. He will be at the Kucheri, and 
 will know ;" and they went. 
 
 Janoo was found, but he had no idea of telling Pahar Singh, the 
 robber chief, and a good-looking Mussulman, where he had hidden 
 Anunda and Radha, who, now safely delivered from their night- 
 watch on the ledge of the rock, had been guided by his son at early 
 daylight over the hill to the village of Afsinga, where they were in 
 safety. Janoo had returned to his post ; and if Fazil and Pahar 
 Singh had opened the kitchen door they would have found five of 
 his men in it, who had watched them narrowly, and were on guard 
 over the house. 
 
 To their united inquiries Janoo had but one answer, — the Abys- 
 sinians had attacked the house, carried off the women, and murdered 
 them. " Alas, alas ! " he said, pretending to weep bitterly, " they had 
 not even Bramhuns' rites. They were flung into the trench without, 
 and buried with the rest. Alas^ alas ! and so beautiful as they 
 were. Do ye doubt ? Look, here are some ornaments of theirs 
 which I am going to give to the Sirkar," and he showed a small 
 bundle tied up in a bloody cloth, the contents of which chinked as 
 he handled it. 
 
 " We can do nothing more, Meah," said Pahar Singh. 
 
346 TABA : 
 
 " My lord, I ate their salt — wliy should I tell a lie ?" lie returned, 
 with a real expression of sorrow. " Go and see if they be in their 
 house." " They are after no good," thought Janoo ; " and if I could 
 only find Tara Bye, the Shastree would give me a gold kurra. At 
 any rate, I have prevented them asking more questions, I think." 
 
 "Poor girl," thought Fazil, *' she is desolate indeed — ^father, 
 mother, all dead. Had they any relatives here ? " he asked of the 
 Hamoosee. 
 
 " None, my lord. The Shastree's elder wife came from Wye in 
 the Concan, they say ; and the last one, Moro Trimmul's sister, also 
 from thence. Here there is no one ; and I would not tell them if 
 there were," he added to himself. "What do they want with them ? " 
 
 " We had better go, Meah Sahib," said Pahar Singh. " I mil but 
 tell Boorhan-oo-deen the !N'aib to seal up the' house of the Shastree, 
 and guard it from plunder, and join thee at thy father's. Do not 
 wait for me." 
 
 Fazil went on sadly. The state of the girl whom he had already 
 rescued from violence, affected him deeply. So beautiful, so strangely 
 beautiful to him, unaccustomed to see the higher classes of Hindu 
 women. " O that Zyna was here," he thought. " She might be a 
 sister to her, and soothe away that grief. Who can break to her 
 what has happened?" 
 
 As Pahar Singh had predicted, Fazil found his father and the 
 Peer in the act of dismissing the Mahratta sirdars, apparently with 
 respect ; for there v/as a silver bottle of uttar standing upon a salver, 
 and a tray with betel leaves on it, on the floor, in the centre of the 
 room. Ibrahim Khan and several other officers were sitting around, 
 and the priest had apparently relaxed from his devotional position. 
 A servant took up the salver and tray as Fazil entered, and the 
 chiefs prepared to rise at the signal, as did also the Khan. 
 
 "Have we leave to depart. Khan Sahib?" said an elderly man, 
 with long white moustaches. 
 
 " Depart in peace," replied Afzool Khan. *' I think you all under- 
 stand now, that it happened inadvertently. * Shooduni-Shooduni,* 
 you know — what was to be, was to be ; and what is done, is done. 
 His Majesty shall hear favourably of your visit to me. Inshalla ! 
 he will be satisfied ; and all intended fines and confiscations will be 
 averted. Only for that Brahmun intriguer ye had been safe. Did 
 the royal troops ever interfere with ye before ? Mashalla, no ! Ul- 
 humd-ul-illa. No! Astagh-f ur-ooUa ! No! and never will again." 
 
 "And the bounty for restoration of the temple, Khan Sahib?" 
 said the old chief inquiringly. 
 
 " Ahem ! Good. I will see about it ; yes, I have no doubt the 
 King will be merciful. Go in peace," said the Khan decidedly; 
 and, saluting them again, they passed out. 
 
• A MAHBATTA TALE, 347 
 
 "Yon see they are satisfied, son," said the Khan qnickly; "we 
 have told them it conld not have been helped, and they agree. Well, 
 what didst thon see ? Did Pahar Singh tell thee how they fired 
 first?" 
 
 " He did, father ! he told me all, and I have seen all. I pray tho 
 merciful Alia never to show me such a sight again. O father, how 
 many houses are desolate and in misery which were happy homes 
 last night before we came ! " 
 
 " Ameen ! my son,' returned the Khan, sighing : " yes, we all say 
 so now. Do we not, Huzrut ? But they fired first, and what was 
 to be was to be ! " 
 
 " And the idol was overthrown ; that image of the devil's mother," 
 cried the priest grimly. " Didst thou see that, Meah ? " 
 
 " I did," said Fazil, "and rejoiced, though those devilish red eyes 
 haunt me still." 
 
 " I spat on them, Meah, while they glared at me from the ground," 
 said the Peer savagely ; "and I, too, see them still, flashing though 
 the priest's blood which gushed out upon them. But what fear, 
 Meah, what fear? What sayeth the holy book, chapter twenty- 
 second ? * Verily the idols which ye provoke, beside Grod, can never 
 create even a single fly ; ' no, nor hurt one either, my son. Where- 
 fore there is no fear — no fear ; be comforted." 
 
 Fazil thought the priest shuddered as he shrugged his shoulders^ 
 and, shutting his eyes, settled himself once more on his heels, and 
 began telling his beads with great devoutness. So a general silence 
 fell among them. 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 The silence was oppressive. The Khan was smoking, and the dull, 
 monotonous gurgle of the hookah went on incessantly, almost irri- 
 tating Fazil, and provoking him to speak again ; but his father had 
 shut his eyes, and puffed mechanically, emitting the smoke through 
 his nostrils, and the priest was evidently absorbed in devotional con- 
 templation. Any interruption would be welcome. 
 
 " They have brought up the prisoner," said Ibrahim Khan, a 
 strangely silent man, but good soldier, who rarely spoke to any one^ 
 " He is now entering the court door ; shall he be ordered in ? " 
 
 "Ay!" said Afzool Khan, "let him be disposed of before our 
 breakfast. That kicheri. Khan Sahib ? " 
 
 " Inshalla, it will soon be ready ; I will go and see to it," he replied ; 
 and he got up and went out, as Gopal Singh, Lukshmun, and some 
 others entered. More Pundit was bound as before, with a turban 
 
348 TAEA : 
 
 round liis neck, the end of wHcli was held by Lukshmun with one 
 hand, while the other grasped a heavy naked sabre. The girl G-unga 
 followed them. 
 
 Afzool Khan, the priest, and Fazil looked at the Brahman from 
 head to foot ; but he did not quail, or betray any emotion whatever, 
 except that his broad chest was heaving under the bandage, and his 
 hands, which just appeared below it, were tightly clenched. 
 
 "This is Moro Trimmul," said Gopal Singh; "we all know him. 
 He used to lodge here with the Gosais, and they are all here to speak 
 to him. Is it not true, Bawas?" he continued to some of the 
 household who crowded in. 
 
 " It is he, my lord, sure enough," cried several of the Gosais in a 
 breath ; " it is Moro Trimmul, who lived here." 
 
 " Have ye got his papers ? " asked the priest. 
 
 " They are most likely in the panniers and bags on the ponies," 
 said Gopal Singh, "or in the palankeen. "What matter ? — here is 
 the man himself." 
 
 " Ask him, my son, if he has aught to say. Ask him in his own 
 tongue," said the Khan. " We would not destroy him unheard." 
 
 Fazil put the question. 
 
 "I did not intend to speak," said Moro Trimmul, "for I am in 
 hands which know no mercy, and I need none. All who take work 
 like mine are prepared to die at any hour. All I ask of ye is to let 
 this girl go ; she is a poor Moorlee who was faithful to me. Let her 
 go, Khan Sahib, with the gold I gave her. As for me, as you have 
 slain many innocent Brahmuns, I am not to be spared, for I have 
 done all I needed, and my mission is ended." 
 
 " What hast thou done ? " asked the priest. 
 
 " Thou art a priest of thy faith," answered the man, " I one of 
 mine ; what thou dost and wouldst do for thy faith, I would do and 
 have been doing for mine. Does that content thee ?" 
 
 " Enough ! ' ' cried the Khan, " he confesses. What shall we do 
 with him ? " 
 
 " Let him die, father," said Fazil solemnly. " He was contriving 
 more evil than you know of, as his face tells, — now look at it as I 
 speak, — yes : and he would have done it too. Let him die." 
 
 As Fazil spoke, a grey ashy paleness overspread the Brahmun's 
 face, and a shudder passed through him; but he did not answer, and 
 taking, as it were, a long inspiration, drew himself up to his full 
 height, closing his fingers convulsively. 
 
 " Fazil," asked his father, " dost thou say death, my son ? " 
 
 " I do," said Fazil, " in justice for this man's evil deeds, which 
 have brought misery to hundreds, and will yet cause more." 
 
 " Shabash," cried the priest, " Ul-humd-ul-illa ! there is good stuff 
 in thee yet, Meah. What sayeth the holy book, chapter forty-seven? 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 349 
 
 * When ye enconnter tlie imbelievers, strike off their heads, until ye 
 have made a great slaughter/ Yes, let him die." 
 
 Afzool Khan mused for a while. The priest's quotation was 
 correct, and his own fanaticism confirmed it. Was he, however, so 
 appalled by the recent destruction of innocent Hindu life, that he 
 hesitated as to this one ? or was it in regard to the fact that Moro 
 Trimmul was a Brahmiin, and the popular objection to putting such 
 men to death being great, that he now hesitated ? Both causes 
 probably combined to influence him. 
 
 '' I am not going to do it. Pundit jee," said Lukshmun to Moro 
 Trimmul in a whisper, " because thou art a Brahmun ; but there is 
 no harm wishing thee as sharp a sword as this is. See ! " 
 
 Moro Trimmul looked askance at the hunchback as he would have 
 done at a reptile, and shrank instinctively from him. They saw his 
 eye wander along the edge of the bright blade from hilt to point ; 
 but though he shuddered perceptibly, he said nothing. 
 
 Afzool Khan took his chin and beard in his hand, leaned his elbow 
 on his knee, looked furtively once or twice under his bushy eyebrows 
 at the priest and Fazil in turn, but did not speak, and again resumed 
 his position. The prisoner's large bright eyes were fixed on him with 
 an intensely inquisitive and earnest expression, and drops of sweat 
 gathered on his brow and temples ; but though his life hung on a 
 word, there was no fear visible, and Fazil could not repress admira- 
 tion of the man's calm bearing and contempt of death. 
 
 "It cannot be, Huzrut, yet," said Afzool Khan at length; "we 
 have much to learn from him ; and, after all, son, he was but doing 
 his duty truly and faithfully. If I had sent thee on such an errand, 
 or the King had sent thee, wouldst thou not have done the same ? 
 Take him away, put irons on him. He must be sent to the King, 
 and judged at Beejapoor." 
 
 " Where thou wilt die under the Groruk Imlee tree like Jehandar 
 Beg," said Lukshmun. "Ah, yes, that was a clean stroke of llama's; 
 and they don't care for Brahmuns there." 
 
 At that moment Pahar Singh entered. " Yes, that is the man," 
 he said, looking intently at the Brahmun. Then turning to his 
 follower, "Go, Lukshmun," he said, "they seek thee. Rama is dead, 
 and thou shouldst go and pour the water at his burial." 
 
 "Dead!" cried the man, starting back, and dropping the end of 
 the turban. " Dead ! O no, master, not Bama ! " 
 
 " Gro, and thou wilt see," said the chief, turning away. 
 
 Lukshmun spoke no word. They saw his broad chest heaving,, 
 and he gasped for breath. The shock was too sudden and great, and 
 he fell senseless against the wall. In doing so the gold zone which 
 he had hung over his arm rolled away. 
 
 "It is mine," said Gunga, picking it up, and clasping it about her 
 
350 TABA : 
 
 waist. "He gave it me, ask him;" and slie pointed to tlie Bralimun; 
 " ask him ; and that fellow would have stolen it. May I go ? " she 
 continued, addressing the Khan ; "I am only a poor Moorlee of the 
 temple ; you do not need me." 
 
 " Surely," said the Khan, "we want no women. Go !" and she 
 made a humble salutation to him, and turned aside. 
 
 "Is he, too, dead?" asked Pahar Singh, turning to Lukshmun. 
 " They were twins, ye see, sirs," he said to the bystanders, " and his 
 spirit may have gone after his brother's." 
 
 But it was not so. Lukshmun had fainted, and revived as water 
 was poured down his throat and a man fanned him with a cloth. 
 He looked about him dreamily ; then some one raised him up, and 
 led him away. 
 
 "And he?" asked Pahar Singh of the Khan, pointing to More 
 Trimmul. " Is he to die ? what will ye do with him. Khan Sahib? " 
 
 "Not yet; he will go to Beejapoor," returned the IQian, "and 
 answer for his deeds to the King." 
 
 "It is just," replied the chief; "he has only done what a good 
 servant should do. He tempted me for his master, as I could have 
 tempted him " 
 
 " That is just what I said," said the Khan, interrupting. 
 
 "And he took no man's hfe," continued the chief, "and the law 
 will spare his." 
 
 " The law," interrupted the priest scornfully, "the blessed law is 
 not for infidels, save for their destruction. For what is written in 
 chapter forty- seven " 
 
 " Peace," cried the Khan, who dreaded a dispute between them, 
 " let it pass. I have spared him. Take him away — keep him with 
 the standard of the Paigah, and let no man or woman have speech 
 of him ; he can cook his own food." 
 
 They led Moro Trimmul away. He said nothing ; but Fazil saw a 
 smile of triumph, he thought, flash over his grave features. When 
 they looked for the girl Gunga she had gone also, and was not to be 
 seen. Fazil, too, had disappeared. As the Khan's breakfast was 
 brought, the kicheri and kabobs he loved so well, he washed his 
 hands, and waited awhile for Fazil's return ; but able to contain 
 himself no longer, drew near to the smoking dish, and crying, "Bis- 
 milla!" he, the priest, and those present, after the necessary ablutions, 
 plunged their hands into the pile of rice, and ate heartily. 
 
 Fazil could no longer restrain himself. He had promised the girl 
 he had left below the pass, to get news of her people for her ; and, 
 taking advantage of Pahar Singh's entrance, and the confusion 
 occasioned by Lukshmun's fall, had slipped out unobserved. It was 
 but a short distance, his horse was still saddled, and he mounted and 
 rode as rapidly as he could down the hill. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 351 
 
 The men were where he had left them, under the trees by the 
 rivulet. Shere Khan was on foot, standing bj the palankeen, point- 
 ing to the road and to Fazil as he descended. Some of the men were 
 on horseback, others lying in the shade holding their horses' bridles. ' 
 
 As he neared the palankeen, the old man slowly advanced, and 
 Fazil could see there were tears on his furrowed cheek. He saluted 
 the young Khan respectfully, and put his hand on his saddle-bow. 
 
 " I never saw grief like hers," he said, " nor such fear, nor misery, 
 at your delay. ' Why did he go ? ' was all she could say at first-— 
 and since I soothed her, she has cried the more — ' Why doth he 
 delay ? ' Once I persuaded her to go and wash her face at the river 
 and drink water, and she did so, and was the better of it. And, 
 O Meah ! she is so beautiful ! Even our rough men say she is a Peri, 
 not a woman. Speak gently to her, Meah." 
 
 Fazil dismounted and walked on. A large space had been left 
 about the palankeen, and no one had intruded upon Tara. Towards 
 the rivulet the doors were open, and she was sitting on the edge of 
 the litter, but with her feet on the ground without, and her face 
 buried in her knees. She did not look up till the young man was 
 close to her ; then, with irrepressible emotion, she threw herself at 
 his feet. 
 
 " O take me to them ! " she cried piteously — " take me to them ! 
 they are waiting for me, they are looking for their Tara ! O sir, 
 they will not rest, or eat, till they know I am safe. Let me go — 
 take me to them. Why am I detained ? I have done no evil ! " 
 
 " Rise," said Fazil, " rise — I may not touch thee to raise thee up ; 
 but Alia has laid a heavy hand on thee, and thou must listen to true 
 words, though they bring thee such affliction as thou hast not known 
 in thy young life." 
 
 Tara raised herself to her knees and looked up. O, the misery of 
 those great eyes in which were no tears — red, dry, and glistening : 
 while, the sweet features quivered under bewildering anticipations 
 of what was to follow. Fazil could not bear to look on her, and 
 turned away. "Would there were any one else to tell thee but me," 
 he said, " it would be well." 
 
 " Speak," she replied calmly, "there is no deceit in your tongue — 
 he whom you left with me says so ; he told me you would not deceive 
 me, and this suspense is terrible, do not prolong it — speak. I will 
 listen." 
 
 "Nor will I," returned Fazil ; " sit down as thou wast, and may 
 God keep thy heart, as I tell thee of thy misery. Yesterday there 
 were a father, a mother, another wife, and thyself, in a happy home. 
 Now three are gone, and thou art here." 
 
 He saw her, as he spoke, clutching nervously at her throat, which 
 was heaving convulsively, and trying to swallow ; and ere he could 
 
352 TAB A 
 
 complete tlie sentence she had fallen sideways from her seat against 
 the door of the litter, and lay there, powerless, for an instant. His 
 habitual respect for women would have prevented his touching her, 
 but she was so helpless that he raised her np, and, taking a pillow 
 from the inside of the palankeen, placed it behind her, supporting it 
 with his arm. 
 
 Gradually she seemed to recover a little. " Dead," she said gently, 
 " all dead ! O Holy Mother, why is this ? Why am I not taken 
 too ? " and she shuddered, and cowered down, shrinking from him. 
 
 Fazil thought the truth might rouse her, and he was right. He 
 dreaded her becoming insensible. 
 
 " Yes, so it has pleased God," he said. '' Thy father was killed, 
 fighting in the temple ; and in the confusion afterwards, robbers 
 attacked the house where your mother was and the other, and they 
 also died." 
 
 " No — no, it 'could not be ! " cried Tara, quickly and eagerly. 
 " Janoo Walk would be there ; he would fight for them and protect 
 them." 
 
 " Janoo himself told me this : he told me he saw them dead — two 
 women, very fair, the elder Anunda, and the younger wife, Radha 
 Bye. Some of Janoo's people are killed in the house, and he could 
 not save them. Thy father ? " he continued, as he saw her lips ap- 
 parently moving, though the word was not spoken. " Yes, two men, 
 priests in the temple, Khundoo Bhopey and Rama Bhopey — I asked 
 their names — who lifted him upon the litter in which he was carried 
 away, said he was dead and already burned. What can I do with 
 thee or for thee now ? " he continued. " Speak, and I will do it, lady, 
 truly and faithfully." 
 
 "Is it true ? " vshe asked dreamily, and with a rough husky voice, 
 'and staring at him with those great scared eyes. *' The Bhopey s 
 would not tell lies." 
 
 " I swear it by the dead, it is 'true," replied Fazil. *' I have neither 
 rested nor eaten till I found out the truth. Had there been any one, 
 even a servant, I would have sent for thee. Janoo told me there 
 was no one belonging to thee in the town, no relatives ; — and the 
 Brahmuns are all fled. Men say they will not return to a polluted 
 shrine, and Janoo Naik and others said you had relatives at Wye, 
 where we are going." 
 
 " Yes," she said calmly, and as if echoing his words, " there are 
 relatives at Wye. Sukya Bye is there — and — no matter. Yes. I will 
 go there — ^let me go." 
 
 " My mother and sister will be with us," added Fazil, " come to 
 them. Zyna will be a sister to thee, and no harm shall come nigh 
 thee. I would use no force — it must be of thine own free will ; but 
 the town yonder is filled with dead and dying, the temple is desolate, 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 353 
 
 there is no one of thy people alive, and thou wouldst die of fear and 
 sorrow. Come with ns ; Shere Khan will take care of thee, as of a 
 daughter, till we reach my sister. I will not come nigh thee, but 
 he will tell me of thee. lady, I am not false ! I am a stranger to 
 thee ; but Alia threw me in thy path, when else, dishonour was before 
 thee. From that, at least, I saved thee, and thou knowest it." 
 
 " Who art thou ? " she said gently ; " yes, I was saved from worse 
 than death — who saved me ? " 
 
 " I, Fazil, the son of Afzool Khan of Beejapoor," he said. 
 
 " They say Pathans respect women's honour," she returned, rousing 
 herself. " A poor orphan girl will not be without pity in your sight. 
 Ah! sir, I am sorely bewildered now," she continued, beating help- 
 lessly with her hands on her lap. " I cannot think or speak, and my 
 heart is dried up ; but he told me — that old man — that you were true, 
 and they loved you, all of them ! — and so be kind to Tara, and do 
 not deceive her ; she will die soon, and go away, and will trouble you 
 no more." 
 
 " By Alia ! by my sister's lionour ! I will be true to thee, lady ! " 
 cried Fazil earnestly ; ^' truer than thou canst now think. Enough ; 
 when thou art with Zyna thou wilt know all ; till then thou willi not 
 see me. Call the bearers," he continued, to Shere Khan ; '' take her on 
 to camp, wherever it is ; get guides from the next village yonder. 
 Procure her food by the way, if she will eat. Here are twenty men 
 with the litter ; they will take thee into Sholapoor. Hark ! " he con- 
 tinued to the men as they approached, "take this palankeen into 
 Sholapoor at once, and ye shall have fifty rupees from Afzool Khan. 
 Fear not, lady ! " he said once more to Tara ; '' thou wilt be Shere 
 Khan's daughter till thou art with my sister." Then, mounting his 
 horse, he rode rapidly up the pass. 
 
 Tara followed his figure with her eyes, and her heart went with 
 them. He was so kind, so gracious, and so beautiful. She could 
 not realize the fact of her sudden misery and desolation, and yet she 
 could not doubt it. As he disappeared behind a turn in the road, the 
 sense of that desolation became more acutely painful. But she had 
 no time for thought. Shere Khan rode up, bid her shut the doors of 
 the litter, and told her he should not leave it ; and a moment after- 
 wards she felt it was taken up, and carried forward at a rapid pace, 
 while the old soldier caracoled by her side, and the horsemen spread 
 themselves around her, to screen as well as to protect the conveyance 
 in which she lay. 
 
 :2 A 
 
354 TABA 
 
 CHAPTER LXI. 
 
 Fazil Khan rode rapidly up tlie pass, for lie knew his father would 
 await his coining ere he gave the final orders for the march. Truth 
 to say, he was hungry enough, and a breakfast upon Ibrahim Khan's 
 kicheri and kabobs would be very welcome. As he reached the top, 
 a busy scene presented itself. Wherever he looked, little fires were 
 lighted between three large stones, upon which the small cooking- 
 pans used by the men, and carried in their saddle-bags, were placed ; 
 and the savoury smells which issued from them, and pervaded the 
 air, proved that the stews and curries within were in very satisfactory 
 progress, and were certainly very provocative of appetite. While 
 one member of a small mess watched the pot, others were kneading 
 dough, or patting out " chupatees " or unleavened cakes, with their 
 hands, and baking them on their *^ to was" or iron plates. Hundreds 
 of these operations were going on simultaneously in every direction ; 
 for the force had a long day's march before it to Sholapoor. There 
 would be no midway halt, and men and horses must alike be fed. 
 Everywhere, too, the merry laugh, the broad joke or banter inci- 
 dental to camp life, resounded among the rude soldiery, and the 
 cries of sellers of milk, curds, firewood, and fruit, mingled with them 
 pleasantly. 
 
 Already was the scene of the night before forgotten. The dead 
 for the most part had been buried out of sight ; and if grief and 
 misery sat at the heart of many a household in the town — ^mourning 
 for relations slain, or property plundered or destroyed, — in the camp 
 without, no such feelings existed among the fierce and fanatical men. 
 A grim satisfaction prevailed at having defiled one of the holiest 
 shrines of the Dekhan, plundered its property, and slain its priests. 
 To all, the night's events had been those of ordinary skirmish and 
 excitement : forgotten with the next petty cares of life, and antici- 
 pation of new scenes of adventure, — and possibly of new plunder. 
 
 " Where hast thou been, Meah Sahib ? " cried one of a knot of liis 
 own men, whom he met almost as he reached the plain above the 
 pass. "The Khan Sahib has been searching for thee, and is anxious. 
 Ah ! when wilt thou learn caution, and take some of us at least with 
 thee ? Remember this is not Beejapoor, and the people are not in 
 good humour after last night. Any fellow with a gun behind one of 
 those rocks " 
 
 " Thanks, friend," said Fazil, interrupting him. " I did but go to 
 Shere Khan and the rest of them below, and tell them to precede 
 us ; but thanks for the caution nevertheless. Now, get ready soon, 
 for I shall not be long avv^ay from ye," and he cantered on to the town 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 355 
 
 Giving directions for a led horse to be accoutred for him, in lieu 
 of that which had carried him through the night, Fazil entered the 
 Mutt where he had left his father, and found him girding himself 
 for the journey. 
 
 " Where hast thou been, son ? we could not wait ; but they have 
 kept the kicheri hot for thee, and the kabobs are good ; only they 
 have too much pepper and garlic in them. The Khan's cookery is 
 not refined, my son : not like thy mother's. Inshalla ! she will have 
 a famous dish ready for us this evening, for I am going to send on a 
 camel. Hast thou any message ?" 
 
 i^azil knew by his father's volubility that he was in good humour. 
 The flurried, anxious expression of his face had departed, as well 
 under the influence of a hearty breakfast as owing to the feeling 
 that, under the circumstances, he had really done his best to smooth 
 over the events of the night. It was unfortunate, certainly, that 
 they had happened ; but it could not be helped now. A donation 
 from the King would soothe the Brahmuns. So he had again sent 
 for the local ISTaib, and charged him to assure all of his sympathy and 
 sorrow. Afzool Khan had taken advantage of the Peer's absence to 
 do this, for in his presence he would have feared to commit himself 
 by expression of any consideration for infidels. 
 
 " I did but ride down the pass, father," replied Fazil, ''to speak 
 Avith Shere Khan, and send him on to camp. They will halt by- 
 and-by, and refresh themselves. Yes, truly, something to eat will 
 be welcome ; therefore, sit down and rest. We have a long ride 
 before us." 
 
 " The camel is ready," said the rider of it, entering. "What are 
 your orders ?" 
 
 " Write a line from me to thy mother, Fazil," said the Khan, "to 
 say she is to have kicheri and kabobs ready for us, and that we have 
 won a victory with little loss. That will cheer her, and put her in 
 mind of old days, and we shall have a glorious dish. Inshalla ! we 
 shall be hungry, son !" 
 
 Fazil wrote what was needed to Lurlee, and added, on separate 
 paper, a few lines to Zyna, to take care of Tara on her arrival. 
 Thex^e was no time to write her story, but she would hear particulars 
 from Tara herself.- " Take this at your best speed," he said to the 
 man. " Grive it into the hands of Groolab Daee, and tell her it is for 
 my sister only. You will overtake Shere Khan by the way. Tell 
 him to stop where he likes, refresh the men and horses, and push on. 
 It. is of moment that he should arrive before us, and he is already 
 far beyond Sindphul." 
 
 " Good," replied the man; "your orders are on my head and eyes, 
 and shall be done." In a few moments more, the clash of the bells 
 of the animal he rode were heard as he started, and then died away 
 in the distance. 
 
356 TARA : 
 
 What was best to be done ? — to tell bis father of Tara's being sent 
 on nnder escort of the men, or to leave explanation about ber till tbey 
 readied Sholapoor ? Fazil thought over this as he ate, and he ate 
 heartily what was brought, and did justice to it ; while his father 
 sat and looked on approvingly, or told his son of what had been done 
 to assure the people, and what he would do, in spite of the Peer, to 
 obtain a donation for the temple. "Yes, it will be better to tell him,*' 
 Fazil thought. "He will not object, as he is in this complacent 
 humour, and we are alone." 
 
 " I had no opportunity of speaking, father, before, else I would 
 have told you," he said, after he had washed his hands and sat down. 
 
 " What ! " interrupted the Khan, who detected a tone of embarrass- 
 ment in FaziFs voice — " what has happened ? Didst thou lose any 
 men ? Who is dead? " 
 
 "No, no, father, we had no fighting," replied Fazil. "All I had 
 to say was, that I sent the lady we took, with Shere Khan. She 
 had a palankeen, and the bearers said they would take her to Shola- 
 poor at once. There were twenty of them, and it is only twelve 
 coss." 
 
 " A lady, son ! Who ? " he answered in an indifferent tone. 
 
 " A Brahmun girl, father, of rank. She was escaping in a palan- 
 keen, and we took her when we took More Pundit." 
 
 "Indeed! His wife perhaps ? " 
 
 " No, father ; she said not. She has nothing to do 'v^dth him ; but 
 she was in such grief at her people being killed in the town, that I 
 could only make out she had relatives at Wye, and I sent her on 
 under Shere Khan. As she was richly dressed, and had valuable 
 jewels on her, I feared to send her back, and she was willing to go.'' 
 
 " Poor girl, poor girl," said the Khan, sighing ; " and she is young, 
 you say. Alas, alas ! to be so soon a widow ! " 
 
 " Quite young, father — sixteen, perhaps — and very beautiful. O, 
 so beautiful ! I never saw one like her before." 
 
 "Wonderful ! " returned the Khan. " Then she let thee see her ? 
 . . . Ah, Pahar Singh, well, so you are already prepared," he ex- 
 claimed, as the chief entered the room suddenly, and saluted them. 
 " Have you eaten ? Are your people ready ? We go on to Shola- 
 poor." 
 
 " I am come to bid you farewell, my lord," said the chief. " I have 
 done my work with you for the present. My duty is not with the 
 army, but on the marches ; and I hear of a raid by the Golconda 
 people which I must see to. My nephew Gopal Singh would fain 
 have accompanied your son, but I cannot spare him. He is my only 
 stay since — since .... no matter. My men would be worse than 
 useless to you, and you will not miss what I could send. Neverthe- 
 less, if " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 357 
 
 " !N'o, no," said the Khan, who in truth had dreaded rather than 
 desired Pahar Singh's company, and that of his lawless freebooters ; 
 *'no, you are better here in your own country, and I have already 
 weakened the force too much at Nuldroog to withdraw you." 
 
 " Then we may go, Khan? " 
 
 " Certainly ; you are honourably dismissed with thanks, and men- 
 tion will be made of you, when I write, as you deserve." 
 
 " I have only one thing to say, Khan Sahib, — and I pray you to 
 pardon my saying it, — and that is, beware of Moro Pundit. Had I 
 been a Mussulman like you, I had not spared him : but as you have 
 done so, it is not for me, a Rajpoot, to be concerned in a Brahmun's 
 death. He is faithful to his cause, and he cannot be true to you." 
 
 '' He can do no harm, friend," said the Khan, laughing. " I fancy 
 the Mmbalkur and others have had a good lesson, and will keep quiet ; 
 and, for the rest, as I am going to scotch the head of the snake, we 
 need not fear if its tail writhes a little ; it can do no harm : but I 
 thank you for your caution nevertheless, and you will see to my 
 people of Afzoolpoor and its villages? " 
 
 " Surely, Khan Sahib ; be under no apprehension — nothing can 
 molest them. Now, put your hand on my head once more, embrace 
 me, and let me go." 
 
 '' Go," said the Khan, rising and doing as he wished — ^' go ; be 
 careful, friend; remember the royal clemency, and be true." 
 
 " Will you come with me for a moment, Meah? " said Pahar Singh, 
 as he disengaged himself from the Khan's embrace. 
 
 Fazil got up and followed him. As they emerged from the court- 
 yard into the street, Fazil saw that Gopal Singh and others, ready 
 mounted, awaited their chief, and they saluted him courteously. 
 
 "Come hither, Lukshmun," said the chief. 
 
 The man was well mounted, and advanced. Fazil saw that his 
 cheeks were wet with tears, and his eyes red and swollen. Hideous 
 as the face now was, there was a dignity of sorrow in it which was 
 not unimpressive. 
 
 " Meah," said the chief, *'this is a foolish slave of mine, who im- 
 plores me to send him with you ; he wants no pay, — only food and 
 clothes, and forage for his horse. He will be faithful to you in all 
 danger and trial, and knows no fear. When you return from the 
 campaign, send him to me again. Do you accept him? " 
 
 " I do, Pahar Singh, and will be to him as you were, that I promise," 
 replied Fazil. 
 
 " Then dismount and kiss the young Khan's feet," said the chief. 
 
 Lukshmun obeyed him, dismounted, and prostrating himself before 
 Fazil, embraced his knees. He then did the same to his master, 
 lying at his feet, and sobbing bitterly. 
 
 " Get up, fool," said the chief kindly, drawing the back of his 
 
358 TAB A : 
 
 liand rouglily across his eyes. " Go, thou art safer with him than 
 with me, go ! Take him, Meah," he continued, putting the man's 
 hand into Fazil's, who raised him up. " Take him ; he will be to 
 you the faithful hound he was to me and my boy yonder : we can j 
 ill spare him, but, after what has happened, he is better away for a 
 while. And now, sir, we part. Kemember what I said to your 
 father, and that while Mahrattas are weak they will be treacherous. 
 I wish you well ; in the words of your people, ' Khoda Hafiz.' " 
 
 So saying, the chief mounted, caused his spirited horse to execute 
 several caracoles and plunges, and, with his nephew and followers, 
 rode off rapidly to the plain beyond, where the shrill horn and deep 
 drum of his troop were sounding the assembly. 
 
 " Had it been thus if you knew me, Pahar Singh? " thought Fazil, 
 as the last of the rough troopers passed round the corner of the 
 buildings to the plain beyond. " Hardly, I think ; but it is well as 
 it is, and yonr goodwill is better than your spite." As he turned 
 round he saw the hunchback beside him. The bridle of his horse 
 was hooked within his left arm ; his hands, joined together, were 
 raised to his nose, and he had balanced himself on his left leg, with 
 the sole of the right foot pressed against the calf of the left. His 
 grotesque features were twisted into a curious expression, in which 
 grief and joy struggled for mastery. 
 
 " Your name is Lukshmnn ? " said Fazil. 
 
 " My lord, it is ; I am your slave now and for ever : — till I die, if 
 you permit me to serve you in my o^ti way." 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 "JN^o matter now," said the creature; "you will find out. If I 
 displease you, I will go away of my own accord and give no trouble ; 
 if I please you, let me be near you, and that is enough." 
 
 " How is this ? You talk like a woman." 
 
 " Do you know anything of them, master ? " replied the man. 
 " Perhaps not ; it takes a long life to know them, they say. Do I 
 talk like a woman ? Ah no, sir ; to me you are the woman who has 
 bewitched me, and I follow you blindly for the sake of the love I 
 have for you, which sits in my heart." 
 
 " Since when, friend ? " said Fazil, laughing. 
 
 " Since last night, when you were kind to that poor Brahmun girl 
 who owes her honour to you, and long before that, of which I will 
 tell you. another time. Can I do anything now ? " 
 
 " Hast thou eaten?" 
 
 " Yes ; and I have enough here to last me two days," and he 
 pointed to a bundle of cakes tied at his back. " I can give you one 
 if you like, when you are hungry." 
 
 " I do not want it — I have eaten," said Fazil. " Can I trust thee 
 already ? " 
 
A MA HB ATT A TALE. 359 
 
 " 0, master ! " cried the man piteoiisly, as tlie tears started sud- 
 denly to his ejes. " Do not say that ! I am a poor hunchback, who 
 cannot say fine words, what is the use of my talking ? If you mis- 
 trust me, bid me go. I will return to him who gave me to you — • 
 better that, than be doubted. Enough, shall I go?" 
 
 " No, stay," continued Fazil ; " I will trust thee. Tie thy horse 
 there, and give him some fodder from the bundle yonder. . . . That 
 is well. Now go to the Kucheri ; say to the Naib, that Fazil Khan 
 Meah wants the bundle of things given to him by Janoo Naik, and 
 he is to give it." 
 
 "And what if Janoo is there, master? he will not allow it." 
 
 *' That is why I do not go myself," said Fazil; "but if there is 
 any difficulty I will come. Show this as a token, and it will suffice," 
 and he took oft' his signet-ring. 
 
 "I will bring them without this, Meah, and yet I take it. Tell 
 some one to mind the mare, else if she hears the horn she will break 
 her rope ;"and the man, throwing his coarse black blanket over him, 
 shambled off at a quick pace towards the town. It was but a short 
 distance. Fazil waited there looking at his own horses which were 
 picketed in the street. He had no desire to rejoin his father, who 
 was quietly smoking within. Fortunately, too, the priest rode up ; 
 said he wanted a hookah, dismounted, and went into the Mutt. He 
 would be company enough. 
 
 Fazil watched the street narrowly. Had he done right in sending 
 Lukshmun — ought he not to have gone himself ? He could yet go 
 if there were refusal, but there might be no occasion. In a little 
 time, less then he had supposed possible, he saw the hunchback 
 coming up the street at a sharp run, and as he reached Fazil, he put 
 into his hand a heavy bundle of what felt like ornaments of gold 
 and silver, tied in a cloth which was spotted with blood. 
 
 " Shabash ! " cried Fazil, "it was well contrived. How didst thou 
 get them ? " 
 
 " Janoo Naik is an ass, and the father of all the asses in Tooljapoor. 
 I know him of old," returned Lukshmun. " He was there sitting 
 like a scared owl on the steps of the Kucheri. ' Come and drink,* 
 says he to me. ' I will,' said I ; ' wait, I have a message from the 
 master to deliver/ Then I went in, and said to a Karkoon, ' Give 
 me what Janoo gave just now% the people are come for it.' He 
 could not go in there, for he is a Mang. ' Take them,' says a Karkoon, 
 opening a box; 'I don't like to touch them, they are bloody.' So I 
 took them out, master, and here they are. As I passed Janoo, I 
 gave him a rupee, and told him to go to the Kullal's and get some 
 drink ready, while I delivered my message — and he is gone. 0, the 
 owl, the owl ! he will be drunk by this time ; but, master, that man 
 is as true as steel, and put these in trust; they were not loot to 
 hiin. Wilt thou sell them here ? No, not here ? " 
 
360 TAEA 
 
 " Sell tliem ! " cried Fazil, langMng ; "no, surely — why ? " 
 
 " O, tlie master never does — lie always keeps tlie gold and silver, 
 and bnys them at his own valuation ; but he gives us a share, never- 
 theless, and I shall miss mine of last night's work : — better, however, 
 that the women have it.*' 
 
 " Ah ! friend, I fear thou wilt have no such luck with me," re- 
 turned the young man. " That is no loot, however ; it will only go 
 to its owner." 
 
 *' Ah, Meah, I understand now,' said the man quickly. " Yes, for 
 her. Poor child ! poor child ! and when she sees the blood ! — better 
 throw that cloth away, and tie them up in a clean handkerchief." 
 
 " No," said Fazil, " keep it. It is evidence of the worst, and she 
 needs to know it ; but let us count them. Thirteen, you see, gold 
 and silver ; and look, there is blood on these anklets — let it stay. 
 Yes, now I will trust thee." 
 
 Just then the Khan and the priest came out of the court, both 
 accoutred for the march. 
 
 " I was seeing to the horses, father," said Fazil, in anticipation of 
 his father's remarks, "and questioning this gift of Pahar Singh's ; 
 look at him — a strange being, is he not ? " 
 
 Lukshmun advanced, prostrated himself, kissed the Khan's feet, 
 but said nothing. The priest was acknowledged by a distant but 
 respectful reverence only, and the hunchback seemed to regard him 
 with antipathy. 
 
 " Strange enough, son," said the Khan, looking at him from head 
 to foot : " ask thy mother about his horoscope when we get to camp. 
 He may be lucky, after all — these hunchbacks often are so." 
 
 " My lord," said Lukshmun pleadingly, joining his hands, " all 
 the Brahmuns like to try their hands on my nativity, and they all 
 say I am lucky. For I am a twin, and they never could make out 
 exactly which of the two was the eldest born ; but they believed 
 Rama was, who was always unlucky, and had a bad wife and worse 
 children, and he was shot yesterday ; so the bad luck and bad stars 
 • — sun and mioon, and all — went with him ; and now your slave is 
 the luckiest of men, since he is the property of the noble Afzool 
 Khan and his son Fazil. Surely the stars sent him." 
 
 " Thou hast a bold tongue," said the priest. "Peace, be silent." 
 
 "Ah, Maharaj!" returned the man, "holy men like you and the 
 Brahmuns think too much upon divine glories, to mind what a poor 
 fool like me says. I, too, know my prayers already, and shall 
 become a Mussulman, when I have heard a few more of your rever- 
 ence's sermons. O, they are wonderful ! Bismilla — ir-rahman- 
 ir-raheem ! " 
 
 "Come," said the Khan, "they are beating the Nagaras every- 
 where, and as all are ready, we need not delay." So, mounting their 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 361 
 
 horses, wliicli were being led about, thej rode on to the plain where 
 the men were assembling fast, and closing in heavy masses upon 
 their several standards. In a few minutes, the Paigah of Afzool 
 Khan, Moro Pundit being in th^ midst closely guarded, moved on 
 down the pass, followed by the Abyssinian cavalry ; and their bright 
 steel morions, gay scarves, trappings and standards, gleamed in the 
 blazing sunshine. Yet it was not hot enough to be oppressive ; a 
 fresh westerly wind had arisen, driving before it large masses of 
 fleecy cloud, which, as they passed, threw broad chequers of light 
 and shade over the plain, rustling among the tall ripe corn, which 
 bowed before it in golden wavy ripples, and refreshing the men who, 
 though few had slept, were as yet unconscious of fatigue under the 
 excitement they had gone through. 
 
 The people of the town watched the long line, that, owing to the 
 rough nature of the road, straggled down the pass, with thankful 
 hearts for deliverance from further molestation ; and as the last of 
 the men disappeared behind a shoulder of the mountain, a faint 
 shout of " Jey Kalee ! Jey Toolja ! " rose from a group of men, con- 
 sisting of the Mmbalkur and other chiefs who were assembling at 
 his house. Others clustered about the edge of the tableland, and 
 when they saw the long line emerge upon the plain beyond the 
 groves and gardens of Sindphul, and heard the loud booming notes 
 of the' N"agaras growing fainter in the distance, many a heart 
 breathed a prayer of thanks for deliverance, intermingled with 
 defiance and deep curses on those from whose violence they had 
 suffered. 
 
 In the temple a group of priests were sitting about the shrine 
 weeping, and the image of the goddess still lay on its back, the 
 ruby eyes flashing in the glare of the lamps now lighted about it. 
 'Eo one, as yet, dared to touch it, without some preliminary cere- 
 monies of deprecation of her wrath. Within, the blood had been 
 washed away — but without, in the court, it still lay in patches, 
 blackening and cracking in the sun. 
 
 CHAPTER LXII. 
 
 There is nothing, perhaps, more effectual to deaden, if not to relieve 
 recent misery, than the sensation of rapid motion. Leaning back in 
 the palankeen, with the doors now shut, and the fresh breeze blowing 
 refreshingly through the open blinds. Tar a felt herself hurried 
 swiftly and smoothly along, while her attention was at once occupied 
 and distracted by the occurrences of the journey. Sindphul, its 
 temple and trees ; the lane which was the bed of the rivulet, through 
 
362 TAEA: 
 
 wMch. tlie bearers plashed rapidly : tlie village gate now slmt, and its 
 bastions manned with men to keep ont maranders : the long shady 
 narrow lane, overhung with trees ; — then, beyond, the plain, covered 
 with rich crops of grain now ripening : the shonts of the men and. 
 boys, perched upon their stages in the fields, slinging stones at 
 birds : the song, drawling and monotonous, of the bullock- drivers at 
 the wells, — were all familiar objects and sounds to the desolate girl 
 being carried rapidly by them. Would she ever see them again ? 
 
 As they passed their own garden, she looked. among the trees 
 — perchance she might see Sudba, the old bullock- driver, or Puresh- 
 ram, the gardener ; but there was no one visible, else she had cried 
 out to them. Were they dead, too ? Ah ! how often had she wan- 
 dered among the trees there with her mother, and watched the 
 butterflies among the flowers ! The bearers stopped to change oppo- 
 site the wicket gate, and she could see the bright beds of white 
 jessamine, unpicked as yet, and large marigolds, and. white and 
 yellow chrysanthemums, which the men were saving for the Dussera. 
 Who would gather them now ? Over them, the same bright yellow 
 and white butterflies were hovering in hundreds, and the fierce green 
 and blue dragonflies chasing each other, or darting here and there, 
 quick as thought, and glistening in the sun. Then she remembered 
 the omen in her garden as she sat spinning, and fell back on the 
 pillow shuddering. It was true. She remembered too that the bird 
 had sat for a while, and twittered a sweet low song. Was he that 
 bird, that noble, gracious youth, who had spoken to her so gently, so 
 kindly ? She tried to follow the thread of this thought back, but 
 failed. Her mind was sadly confused and wandering, now reverting 
 to the omen, now to the objects she was passing, and the people they 
 met : — who were they ? what doing ? whither going ? — to the horse- 
 men, the monotonous tramp of whose horses never ceased, some behind, 
 some before, some around her, — fierce, dark-bearded fellows, whose 
 very proximity she would have dreaded before, — who were now 
 guarding her respectfully by his order ; while the kind old man, to 
 whose charge she had been specially committed, rode close to the side 
 of the litter, and where the path was narrow, asked her, through the 
 blinds, if she were well, and wanted anything. 
 
 Fazil, son of Afzool ; she remembered the name. It was strange 
 to Hindu h'ps, but had a musical cadence, which her memory retained 
 as she repeated it to herself. Fazil, son of Afzool ; and he had a 
 sister Zyna. What would she be like? Would she be kind and 
 loving to her ? like Radha ? Was he not beautiful, and very fair, 
 almost ruddy. 
 
 Into all these channels, confused, and whirling her mind hither and 
 thither like dust and straws before the wind, her thoughts wandered 
 dreamily, apparently avoiding the bare, hideous fact that all were 
 
A MAERATTA TALE, 363 
 
 dead whom slie loved — all who had protected her up to last night. 
 But this would not long be denied its place. It was a horrible 
 reality not as yet fully understood : — which her gentle mind could 
 not grasp. 
 
 Dead ! who saw them die ? They were alive last night, — who had 
 killed them ? If she had seen them die, that, indeed, would be 
 surety. IN'o, it was not true. They could not be dead, — they could 
 not have left her so helpless. It was some fraud, some deception. 
 She had not gone far : Sindphul was close by : she would run and sit 
 in the garden, and wait for her mother ; and she half-opened the door 
 of the litter. Shere Khan rode by it, erect and stern, but bowed 
 down to her as the door moved. " Do you want anything, lady ? *' he 
 said. " Gro to sleep ; it will rest you." 
 
 The voice, kind as it was, dispelled the other thought, and brought 
 back the bitter reality of desolation and the events of the night. 
 How she had been lifted up — and the girl Gunga's laugh of triumph 
 and mockery rang in her ears, and was before her eyes now, as she 
 pressed her hands against them : the rude men who carried her down 
 the steps : the fearful shrieks and din in the temple : the shots and 
 blows, growing fainter as they carried her away : and, above all, the- 
 voice of Moro Trimmul, exulting with Gunga that they were safe 
 from death, and had Tara captive. " To Rutunjun first," he had 
 said, "and then " 
 
 " From that worse than death he saved me," she thought, with a 
 shudder. " Fazil saved me — Fazil, son of Afzool — else I were helpless 
 with Moro now. And they were dead — ^her people, all dead ? Yes, 
 the detail Fazil had related was brief and circumstantial. The 
 Bhopeys would not lie — why should they ? They were weeping, and 
 had taken him up dead. Her father, a negro had killed him, they 
 said. She felt no hope could come out of this detail. They had 
 lifted him up and put him .... No, she could not follow that. That 
 beloved father, dead — disfigured with ghastly wounds ! — mother, 
 whom Janoo had seen dead, and Radha .... all ? He had said so. 
 How could he — Fazil — know of Janoo, or the Bhopeys, her father's 
 dependants, so as to deceive her with names?" 
 
 So, round and round, whirling, dashing hither and thither like the 
 motes in a sunbeam, staying nowhere, sometimes utterly blank, the 
 girl's thoughts ministered to her fast growing misery. The hot dry 
 eyes, red and swollen, looked out sometimes vacantly as the bearers 
 changed shoulders. She felt powerless to move, careless as to what 
 became of her. As the reality of the death of all, pressed on her 
 mind occasionally with greater force, she sat up and gasped for 
 breath, and again fell back upon the cushions ; then the monotonous 
 cries of the bearers as they shufiled along rapidly, and the dull tramp 
 of the horses, with the sense of motion, were relief from mental 
 agory : and, after a time, she slept. 
 
:364 TAR A : 
 
 The action of setting down the litter, awoke her with a start. 
 Under some trees not far from a village gate, there was the small 
 hut of a Fakeer. Shere Khan was speaking to the old man, and the 
 troopers were dismounting from their horses. Shere Khan came 
 to her. 
 
 *' I have sent for the Josee's wife," he said. " The Sjn here says 
 she is a kind woman. She will bring you water and something to 
 ■eat. We rest here while the men get their breakfasts, and the 
 horses are fed. Fear nothing. Open the litter, — it is cool and pleasant 
 in the shade under the trees," and then he left her. 
 
 So it was. She opened the door and looked out. A small grove 
 of mango trees, with a smooth green sward below them, and some 
 cattle and goats grazing there in the cool shade ; a boy and a girl 
 tending them looked inquisitively at her, and the girl came up shyly 
 and sat down by her. 
 
 ''Do you want water, lady?" she said. "I am the Josee's 
 daughter, and those are my goats. I will go and tell my mother you 
 want water. You are a Brahmun, are you not?" 
 
 Tara patted her head in assent — she could not speak ; and the girl 
 ran away, crying to the lad not to let her goats stray. 
 
 By-and-by the child and mother returned, and the latter brought a 
 copper vessel of water and a drinking-cup. 
 
 " Here is water, lady," she said ; " will you get out and wash your 
 face ? Surely, I know you," she continued quickly, as Tara turned 
 her face to her. " Where have I seen you? '* 
 
 " No matter," said Tara, " I do not know you." 
 
 " Perhaps not," said the dame drearily. " So many travellers 
 come and go, and .... but no matter. Shall I cook anything for 
 you ? will you come to our house and bathe? " 
 
 " No," said Tara ; " they will go on presently ; I will stay here." 
 
 " Come hither, Ooma," she said to the girl, who was standing 
 apart, and she whispered to her; " go, and come quickly," she added 
 aloud. 
 
 " Do not send for any one else," said Tara ; " I am well." 
 
 " Are you not ill ? " said the woman. " Ah, your eyes are red and 
 swollen." 
 
 " I have a headache," replied Tara ;" it is so hot." 
 
 "Yes," said the woman, sitting down, and putting her arm kindly 
 round Tara, and pressing her head against her own bosom, — " yes, 
 you look tired and weary, but it will pass away. Wash your face and 
 hands, and your feet — it will do you good, and refresh you. Put out 
 your feet — so — I will wash them." 
 
 The cool water was refreshing as it was poured over her hands and 
 feet ; and after the woman had dried them with the end of her saree, 
 she again laid Tara's head against her breast, and patted her as 
 though she were her own child. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 365- 
 
 *' You look so weary/* she said ; " have you travelled far? " 
 
 "From Tooljapoor," Tara replied. 
 
 *'Is all well there? " asked the woman. It was a common ques- 
 tion with no meaning to the asker, but of how much to Tara ! 
 
 She could not answer, but clung, almost convulsively, to the kind 
 breast on which she had laid her head. 
 
 " I see," said the woman ; " so young and rich, and yet thou art in 
 sorrow, lady — ^rest here." And she drew her the more closely to her,, 
 and patted her as before. So they sat till the child came back, who 
 brought upon a plate, covered with a handkerchief, a few simple 
 sweetmeats and some parched rice. "Eat, she said, "if ever so 
 little ; eat a bit of ' Luddoo,' and drink some water." Tara shook her 
 head, and only nestled the closer to the soft bosom : it was strangely 
 like her mother's. 
 
 "Poor thing, poor thing," thought the woman to herself, "what 
 can ail her ? Perhaps her husband is unkind. Eat, my rose," she 
 said aloud, "eat this." And she broke off a piece of the cake and 
 put it to Tara's mouth. " I made it myself, and it is quite pure 
 and clean. Eat it ; open your mouth." Tara did so mechanically, and 
 she put it in. 
 
 Tara tried to eat, but her mouth was dry and hot ; she could not 
 swallow, and felt choking. The woman saw it, and rubbed her 
 throat gently. The hardness and constriction seemed to relax, and 
 she was able to swallow what she had taken, and to eat a little more, 
 the woman feeding her. 
 
 "Good," she said kindly, "try again by-and-by. lady, what 
 heavy grief is on you that no tears come ? Can I do aught for you ? " 
 
 " Nothing," said Tara ; " only do not leave me while they are 
 absent." 
 
 So they sat silently. If Tara could have wept, it had been well ; 
 but that blessed relief was not to come yet. She was quiet, however,, 
 sitting there, almost stupified, resting her head against the woman's 
 breast, who still patted her. Every now and then the great, sore, hot 
 eyes looked out drearily. Some of the goats and cattle browsed 
 under the trees, others had lain down resting in the shade. There 
 was no sound but a faint rustle of the breeze among the leaves, tha 
 dim buzz of flies, and the droning song of a man, at a well in a 
 garden near, singing to his bullocks, and the distant plashing rush of 
 the water as it was emptied from the bag into the cistern. 
 
 And so they sat, till one by one the bearers gathered near them, 
 and tied up their hookas on the palankeen as before. Then the 
 horsemen came up, and she heard Shere Khan asking her if she 
 were ready, and telling the bearers to take up the palankeen. Tara 
 had put the gifts she had received at the shrine under her waistband,, 
 and remembered them. As the palankeen was taken up she took 
 
360 TABA : 
 
 them out and put tliein into the woman's hand, who, expecting per- 
 haps a few copper coins, stood looking at them in amazement. 
 
 " May your grief pass from you, and may God be merciful unto 
 you, my child," said the woman. Ere Tara could reply, a bearer 
 had shut the door, and the men ran on with renewed vigour. 
 
 Yes, the little change had refreshed her, and she again fell asleep, 
 mercifully : and it was eyening, and the shadows were lengthening 
 fast, when she became aware that they approached a large town, 
 passed through a busy bazar crowded with people, then emerged 
 from it ; crossed over a bridge, from which a large piece of water 
 was visible on the left hand, and the towers and bastions of a fort 
 washed by it ; then the gloom of a deep-arched gateway, and light 
 beyond. A respectably dressed elderly woman, in Mahomedan 
 costume, took hold of the side of the palankeen, and ran along with 
 it a short distance. 
 
 " Stop," she cried to the bearers, — "this is the place ; put it down 
 and go away." 
 
 Then Tara saw several other women advance and hold up a heavy 
 sheet so as to screen her as she got out, and the door was opened ; 
 and Groolab, for she it was, speaking a rough dialect of Mahratta, 
 bid her come forth. As she did so, and stood there, Goolab ' ' took 
 the evil of£ her," as was her custom;* and other women coming 
 forward with plates, on which were coriander and mustard seed, 
 waved them over her. Thus welcomed, Tara now stood waiting a 
 signal to advance ; and Goolab, seeing her trembling violently, put 
 her arm round her, looking with wonder at the richness of her apparel 
 and the heavy gold ornaments she wore, her exceeding beauty causing 
 respect and silence even from the loquacious and privileged nurse. 
 
 "Enter," said a low sweet voice from within a curtain hanging 
 across a doorway, which was slightly opened. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIII. 
 
 Tara advanced, still trembling, and clinging to Goolab, and trying 
 to hide her face in the end of her garment ; she was only sensible of 
 the same sweet voice, as a girl of great, and to her strange, beauty, 
 took her in her arms, embraced her, and said gently, " Peace be 
 unto you ! you are welcome, with the peace and blessing of Alia upon 
 you ! " and that another taller and older lady embraced her in like 
 
 * Women pass their hands ovex the person on wliom the ceremony is per- 
 formed from head to foot ; then, turning the backs of their hands against their 
 icmples, make all tlieir knuckles and fmger-joints crack loudly. This is done to 
 :avert consequences of Evil Eye. 
 
A MAUBATTA TALE. 367 
 
 and said the same. After that for a long while she remem- 
 bered nothing. 
 
 When she recovered, she was lying upon a soft bedding in a small 
 room, near an open window which looked out upon the lake that 
 encircled the fort, glowing with the reflection of piles of sunset-clouds. 
 On what seemed an island in the lake was a Hindu temple, with a 
 high pyramidical roof, around which hung the rich foliage of several 
 magnificent trees, and temple and trees were reflected double in the 
 still water. These were the first objects that met her sight. 
 
 Then, turning round, the same young face that she had seen on 
 entering the apartment bent over her, and a soft warm hand was 
 passed over her face, and the ends of the fingers kissed in loving 
 greeting ; but the girl did not speak, though a sweet smile spread 
 over her features, and she seemed to beckon with her left hand to 
 another person behind her, whom Tara could not see. Another 
 moment and her deliverer advanced, saluting her respectfully. 
 
 Fazil had ridden fast to overtake Tara, but had not succeeded. 
 Twenty men, a light palankeen, and the hope of a liberal reward, 
 had induced the bearers to put out their utmost speed, and they had 
 well redeemed their promise of reaching their destination before 
 sunset ; but he had arrived soon after. 
 
 *' Gro away, brother," said Zyna, " do not speak to her now; you have 
 seen that she is safe — that is enough." 
 
 " My sister," he replied in Persian, that Tara might not understand, 
 " not so. It will grieve her, and thee too, sorely, but she must 
 know the truth. Do not go away. I will speak to her in her own 
 tongue, and show her these sad memorials which I have brought. It 
 is mercy not to delay in such cases. — Can you listen to me, lady, a 
 few moments?" he continued to Tara ; "what I have to tell you is 
 not worse than what you have already heard, but it will confirm it ; 
 and truth and reality are ever betfcer than doubt." 
 
 "If you please to say it, sir," said Tara, who had arisen directly 
 she saw Fazil approaching, and stood by the window. 
 
 " If — if — ^you saw anything that had belonged to them you would 
 know it, perhaps," said Fazil hesitatingly. 
 
 Tara's bosom heaved so that she could not speak. She appeared 
 as if gasping for breath, with the same distressing symptoms as 
 when, in the morning, he had told her first of her bereavement, — 
 and she trembled violently. She could not stand, and crouched 
 down against the wall. 
 
 " 0, not now, brother ! not now," pleaded Zyna, who put her arm 
 round Tara, and w^as supporting her. 
 
 But Fazil was merciless. " It must be," he said. " And now, 
 lady, listen. If you had any doubt, these will remove it. After I 
 left you the second time I went to the Kucheri, for what Janoo 
 
368 TAR A : 
 
 Naik told me lie had left there, and these were given as having 
 belonged to jonr mother, Anunda Bye, and yonr stepmother, Radha 
 Bye. Look at them." 
 
 As he spoke he nntied a bundle he held, and ponred the contents 
 at her feet ; heavy gold and silver ornaments of some value, and a 
 few rings. 
 
 Tara looked at them for a moment. The silver chain anklets, 
 which were her mother's, were dabbled with blood, now dry on them ; 
 the gold pair had been made after those on her own feet for Radha's 
 marriage, by her brother Moro. Enough — all were familiar objects^ 
 They swam before her eyes — the room seemed whirling round, and, 
 weak as she was, she sank down again utterly unconscious, with 
 Zyna crying over her. 
 
 "Let them remain," said Fazil, "she must see them when she 
 recovers, else she will not believe. Show them to her one by one. 
 I dare not stay ; " and he left the room. 
 
 Tara had not however fainted, but she was gasping for breath, 
 and Zyna called to Goolab to bring a fan, while she opened the 
 casement of the window still more, to let in air. " He said — he 
 said," sobbed Tara, trying to speak; "lady, I cannot speak — I am 
 choking — O ! why do I not die ? He said " 
 
 " He said you were to look at them all, one by one," said Zyna, 
 trying to check her own sobs and tears. " He is kind. Fazil, my 
 brother, would not give you pain unless it were for good. Look ! 
 here they are," and Zyna spread out the ornaments mth her own 
 hands, shuddering at the blood upon them. 
 
 Tara looked earnestly at Zyna ; the eyes were full of misery — so 
 full that Zyna could not bear them — passed her hands over her own, 
 pressing them tightly, then looked away. Tara turned the orna- 
 ments vacantly over and over, sighing, and, as it were, catching her 
 breath convulsively. There was one, a ring with a sapphire set in 
 it, with which she knew her mother never parted, for she believed 
 that without it evil would happen to her, and that it had brought 
 prosperity. It used sometimes to be put on the altar when they 
 worshipped Lakshmee, the Goddess of Wealth — else it never left her 
 mother's hand; but it was there. Zyna did not know this then, 
 but she saw Tara's hand tremble very much as she took it up and 
 looked at it carefully. There was a dark stain inside, and Tara put 
 down the ring, gasping, as it were, for breath, then took it up again. 
 
 Zyna watched wonderingly, the changing expressions which passed 
 over the beautiful features : first despair ; then, as it seemed to her, 
 prayers were murmured in a language she did not understand, and 
 the features appeared to relax, the upturned eyes glistened, there 
 was a look as if of hope or triumph upon the face. She moved 
 closer to Tara, still closer, as she thought she saw tears gathering 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 3G0 
 
 in the hot eyes. If Tara could only weep it would be well. Zyna 
 passed her left arm round her, and gently drew the girl's head on 
 her own shoulder and bosom ; it fell softly there and rested ; the 
 hand which held the ring dropped on her lap, beating restlessly; 
 but the other grasped her so that it almost caused pain. Kind 
 nature did not suffer the terrible struggle to continue longer, else 
 Tara had died ; and with almost a shriek of pain, her tears burst 
 forth uncontrollably. 
 
 " Thank God for it," said Lurlee, who had entered, and was stand- 
 ing over them, and who now passed her hands oyer Tara, as Goolab 
 had done ; " she will be easier for this, and the worst is past : let 
 her weep. The blessing of Alia and the Prophet on thee, my 
 daughter," she said to Tara. " I salute thee with peace ! Thou 
 hast entered at a fortunate moment, and there is joy following thy 
 grief. Fear not ; thou hast come to those who will be to thee what 
 thou hast lost." 
 
 " She will require much care, mother," said Zyna; "feel how she 
 is trembhng; I will not leave her. Ah, yes — that is the reason; 
 take away those things, Goolab ; wash them and put them by." 
 
 Goolab took them up, and with all her choicest epithets of "Poor 
 little rose ! my pretty dove ! my lily ! my own life ! " she tried to 
 soothe the girl ; but Tara heeded no one. Keeping the ring clutched 
 in her own hand, she hid her face in Zyna's bosom, then suffered 
 her gradually to lay her head down on her knee, and rock it softly. 
 She dared not speak, but tried to look up gratefully, sometimes, and 
 then clung the closer to her gentle nurse. 
 
 "Hush," said Zyna, as fresh bursts of tears often occurred, "I 
 know what has happened, and I will not leave thee, Tara ; no, 
 never now. And he, my brother, says it too." So they sat and lay 
 — the two girls — long into the night ; and gradually, unable to resist 
 the kindness lavished on her, Tara spoke a little, and Zyna en- 
 couraged it, and heard wonderingly, Tara's simple tale of trial and 
 sorrow. 
 
 That night, too, her future fate was the subject of earnest debate, 
 often approaching the verge of passion, between Afzool Khan, his 
 son, and the priest. What could they do with a Brahmun orphan, 
 a heathen unbeliever who was a captive, and a slave, by the laws of 
 war ? Long and earnestly did the priest plead that she should forth- 
 with be sent to the royal harem. So beautiful a slave would be 
 cherished, loved, and have every luxury at her command ; she might 
 become the mother of princes, and the head of the state ; and Afzool 
 Khan supported this opinion, which was borne out by texts from the 
 law,* plausibly quoted by the Peer. 
 
 But Fazil opposed them both, gently yet firmly, and at last almost 
 fiercely. " She is my captive, if captive at all," he said ; " my slave, 
 
 2 B 
 
370 TAB A : 
 
 taken in war, according to your own texts, Huzrnt — and I can release 
 her, or ransom lier, or keep her, as I will. She has relatives at Wye, 
 where we are going, and with your permission, father, she can stay 
 with US till then; we will be her safeguard, honourably and truly. 
 After that," he added with some little confusion, " she can act for 
 herself, and of her own free will; but to send her to the palace, to 
 be decked out and noticed for a while, and then flung aside — no, 
 father ; better she died, or better still that we now turned her into 
 the street, to shift for herself among her own people." 
 
 *' That w^ould be inhospitable, son, if no more," returned his father ; 
 "well, boy, let her stay, and welcome. 'No matter," he thought to 
 himself, *' if he have his own way in this thing." The Khan w^as 
 decidedly in good humour. The kich^ri, kabobs, and some other 
 dishes whicH were especial favourites, had been dressed to perfection 
 by Lurlee, and were relished, as they can best be, with the zest 
 insured by a long ride. 
 
 Lurlee had met him in good humour, and the stars were in pro- 
 pitious conjunction to welcome his arrival. The lady had nothing 
 but good to say of Tara, whose beauty and sad history had at once 
 deeply impressed her. "What if she be an infidel," she said, "she 
 will make the better true believer. Let her stay with us, O Khan ! 
 she shall be a daughter to me," and the lady sighed. " There is 
 nothing unlucky about the period of her arrival, for the sun was in 
 conjunction with Jupiter, and she was born under Yenus, she says ; 
 and as she is a Brahmun she knows all about her Horoscope and the 
 j)lanets ; besides, is not this Wednesday, and she arrived between 
 live and six in the evening, under Venus, so that she is born to us 
 Tinder the same planet as she was born to her own parents ? Is not 
 that curious ? and by-and-by I shall call her Fazila, according to the 
 1 jlessed scheme of nativity sent by the prophets. And listen further, 
 Khan," continued the lady, pausing and examining her book. " Her 
 name now begins with a T, and that stands for Air, and is lucky, 
 
 because " and she was nearly saying it aloud, only she checked 
 
 herself in time, "because," she said to herself, "Fazil's name begins 
 wdth an F, and that means Fire, and fire and air always agree best, 
 because the one cannot exist apart from the other." 
 
 " I don't understand, Lurlee," said the Khan, " how it is. What 
 about fire? " 
 
 "Never mind," replied the lady knowingly, "you will find out 
 more by-and-by, Khan! there is a good deal to be done before 
 then." 
 
 So Tara escaped another great peril which she knew not of, and 
 remained as an honoured and welcome guest with her new protectors. 
 And in a few days, when Afzool Khan had made the necessary 
 arrangements, his army was ready to move on. These need no 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 371 
 
 detail at our hands, except as concerns two characters in our history 
 who did not accompany it. 
 
 The first was Kowas Khan, who, recalled by the King to manage 
 the affairs of his own troops, returned from Sholapoor to the capital. 
 The young man regretted the necessity ; for to share a campaign in 
 real service with his friend Eazil, had ever been one of his most 
 cherished plans. The King's order was, however, peremptory, and 
 was obeyed. " When we return," said the old Khan to him as they 
 parted, " the days of mourning will be expired, and thou shalt have 
 thy desire." 
 
 With him was sent the Lalla, who, being naturally of an un warlike 
 nature, rejoiced at the prospect of escaping hardships of no ordinary 
 kind. And was not Kowas Khan the late Wuzeer's son, and nominal 
 Wuzeer himself ? He might become actually so, and what a field 
 for advancement was opened to him if this should be ! " May your 
 prosperity increase, may you be victorious," he said to the father and 
 son as he took leave of them. " Inshalla ! your poor servant will 
 A^rrite you news of the city and court, after the true imperial fashion, 
 which is more his vocation than recording battles ; only remember 
 that your slave is grateful." 
 
 Af zool Khan's army, now organized in all respects, set forward on 
 its march. A few miles only were traversed daily, and it would 
 require a month or more ere they could reach Wye. Sometimes a 
 house was found for the ladies in a village or town near which the 
 forces encamped; but more frequently they were in the Khan's 
 tents, which were infinitely pleasanter. The two girls grew together, 
 the more as the first restraint passed away ; and the lady Lurlee and 
 Zyna were never tired of hearing from the lips of the beautiful 
 heathen, the simple story of her life, her widowhood, and her 
 strange rescue from dishonour. 
 
 Was Tara happy ? Yes ; when she thought of what her fate 
 must have been had she not been rescued from Moro Trimmul, or 
 even if Fazil had yielded to her first entreaties, and let her go mth- 
 out inquiry. She knew not then of the further escape from the 
 royal harem which Fazil had secured ; but as it was, gratitude to 
 him had already become the main feeling of her life. Of her parents' 
 death she had no doubt whatever now. The other members of the 
 family would have claimed the property and cast her off. Widow 
 and priestess combined, she would have been helpless against the 
 insult and profligacy of men of her own faith, and now she was at 
 least safe. She was grateful, therefore, and, for the most part, 
 happy too. 
 
 But often, as she wept bitterly under the old memories of an 
 innocent and happy home, the loving arms of her mother seemed 
 clasped about her once more, and her caresses almost palpably felt. 
 
372 TABA : 
 
 while tlie glistening eyes of tlie goddess appeared to follow her, 
 sleeping and waking, with a reproachful look of desertion. In these 
 moments, Tara endured bitter grief ; but ever at hand were the 
 gentle remonstrances of her new mother and sister, and to them also 
 were joined those of her deliverer which, in the constant association 
 which grew out of a camp life, she felt becoming more and more 
 powerful day by day. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 Among the events which passed at Sholapoor after the arrival of the 
 Khan, was the disposition of the prisoner Moro Trimmul. Heavily 
 ironed and closely guarded, he had been brought from Tooljapoor on 
 horseback, his irons loosened from one leg, and, when they were 
 again riveted, he was consigned to the custody of the Khan's own 
 troop. When the fate of the Brahmun hung in a balance, and Fazil^ 
 fearing him, and knowing his indefatigable and successful attempts 
 in propagating the political influence of the Mahrattas, had at first 
 urged his execution, then his transmission to Beejapoor, — there was 
 not a dissentient voice in the small council ; but at Sholapoor the 
 aspect of affairs had changed : the priest and his father had sent for 
 Moro Trimmul, and examined him in private ; and the sullenness of 
 the man had apparently broken down before the threats of being 
 despatched to Beejapoor, and submitted to his fate with the King. 
 
 The Khan and the priest were no believers in the honesty of 
 Mahrattas ; and at the second of these examinations, the Brahmun 
 was plied with temptation such as was difficult to resist, and to which 
 he yielded with apparent reluctance, but yielded nevertheless. To 
 assist them in speaking with the prisoner (for though the priest 
 spoke Mahratta perfectly well, yet, as a language of infidels, rarely 
 Buffered it, as he said, to defile his mouth ; and if he did, subjected 
 that organ to an excessive purification at the hour of prayer), — a 
 Brahmun, who belonged to the accountant's department of the 
 state, by name Punto Gopinath, was employed by the Khan. Of 
 this man he knew but little : but he was a good Persian scholar, as 
 well as an intelligent official servant of the kingdom, and the Khan 
 had no doubt of his fidelity. 
 
 Nor, indeed, Bulwunt Rao either ; who, a bad interpreter him- 
 Belf, had, on all occasions, been allowed to be present, as a check 
 upon the Brahmuns. Both had joined in trying to persuade Moro 
 Trimmul to disclose the intentions of his master, and had always 
 been met with the same answer, that the Prince only desired re- 
 cognition of his rights, and that when he heard for certain of the 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 373 
 
 mai'cli of the force, lie would be sure to send ambassadors to explain 
 what bad occurred. So it bad come to tbis, tbat if ambassadors did 
 arrive within a few days, Moro Trimmul was to be confronted with 
 them ; otherwise, that he was to be sent back to Beejapoor, to be 
 dealt with as a traitor. 
 
 To Bulwunt Rao, whose Mahratta mind was capable of under- 
 standing and appreciating an indirect motive of policy, the Khan's 
 determination seemed perfectly reasonable; and if Moro Trimmul 
 could by any means be brought to consent to lead the force through 
 the defiles beyond Wye, some effect upon the B/ajah's position might 
 be obtained. If not, who was to do it ? 
 
 To Fazil, however, the position taken up by his father was so 
 unintelligible, and so unlike his usual straightforward mode o£ 
 proceeding, that he feared some extraneous agency was at work. It 
 was not so, however : it was simply the power which strong minds 
 exercise over weaker ; and by the Brahmun's cool contempt of death, 
 his certainty that Sivaji would beg for terms, and his willingness to 
 assist if he did, — the Khan's suspicions were overcome. 
 
 Nor was it strange, perhaps, that after a time the Khan appeared 
 to attach no particular culpability to Moro Trimmul's attempt to 
 carry off Tara. He had explained the act, by her father having tired 
 of her presence in the house as the jealous enemy of his sister, a new 
 and beautiful wife, and had requested him to take her away to Wye, 
 to devote her to one of the temples there. Some little force was, no 
 doubt, necessary ; but her father had authorized its being used, to 
 prevent interference by her mother. What did he care about the 
 girl ? — as a widow she was impure, and her not having performed 
 the rites of widowhood, placed her beyond the pale of respectability; 
 yes, the Khan might make a Mahomedan of her, send her to the 
 King, or do what he pleased with his slave, he had no concern for 
 her now. 
 
 The Khan thought this state of the case on the whole more 
 probable, in all its aspects, than Tara's own story, heard through Lurlee 
 and Zyna. It did not affect her character, which Moro Trimmul 
 spared no words to commend. 
 
 So the Brahmun grew into favour ; and as he did so, the flattery 
 which he distributed to the Khan and the priest had its effect, in 
 procuring him liberty, first from his irons, and then of speech with 
 Gopinath and other persons of his own sect, who came to converse 
 with one so well known by reputation. The position of all parties 
 continued thus till a few days after the force had left Sholapoor ; 
 when, one morning, as the Khan reached the halting-place for the 
 day, the arrival of envoys from the Bajah Sivaji was announced in 
 camp, and mthout delay they were summoned to the Khan's presence. 
 
 We need not follow the negotiations which ensued ; we have only 
 
374 TABA 
 
 to do with tliose who took part in them. Most of ns know, too, what 
 Eastern negotiations are, when weakness is covered by temporizing 
 expedients of falsehood or treachery. So it has been from the first, 
 so it will be to the end. Moro Trimmnl had well guessed what his 
 master's policy wonld be when he laid his fate npon the result ; and 
 when he heard from Bulwunt Rao that the envoys had proffered 
 submission, and begged of Afzool Khan to advance and partake of 
 the Rajah's hospitality at Pertabgurh, where the affairs pending in 
 dispute could be amicably discussed, he was satisfied — he could 
 understand what was to come. 
 
 His own liberation soon followed. Of what use was it confining-^ 
 an irresponsible agent, when real ambassadors had voluntarily met 
 the Khan, and declared their master's intention to throw himself on 
 the royal clemency ? So Moro Trimmul was set free. 
 
 His first act was to seek Gunga. So long as he had been kept within 
 the fort at Sholapoor he had heard nothing of her ; but the day the 
 force marched, he had seen her, attended by two stout footmen with 
 sword and buckler, riding among the camp followers, as the division 
 of horsemen, under whose charge he was placed, rapidly passed a 
 crowd of them straggling onwards. She had not observed him, he 
 thought, for she made no sign of recognition. It had been otherwise, 
 however ; and we must retrace a little this girl's proceedings, in 
 order to comprehend her present position. 
 
 Under that strange fascination which often impels women to 
 endure more from men who ill-use them than from those who caress 
 them, she had been unable to remain at Tooljapoor, and after a brief 
 struggle she had yielded to her destiny. When the Khan discharged 
 her, and the temporary insensibility of Lukshmun had procured her 
 the gold zone, which was valuable, the hard, mercenary nature which 
 had grown out of her vocation, rose as a wall between her and Moro 
 Trimmul, and yet but for a moment. 
 
 It said to her, " You have got all you can from this man, his fate 
 is evil ; you have had many escapes from him, and this is the last. Go ! 
 leave him, you could not save his life if you would ; the Mussulmans 
 hate him, and will destroy him, or imprison him for life. Enough 
 that you have escaped ; go, and be thankful." This was what she 
 thought, as she picked up the zone when it rolled away, fastened it 
 round her waist, and walked out of the room. Where was she to 
 go ? She dared not visit the temple. Dead bodies were still lying 
 there, and there was blood about the streets. She went to Anunda's 
 house, and looked into all the courts. She saw the dead negro lying 
 among the flowers, and, horrified at the sight, she started back ; and 
 just as some men opened a door and tried to intercept her, she fled 
 away in terror. She dared not trust herself in the quiet parts of the 
 town nor in the camp ; for there were many who would have thought 
 
A MAUBATTA TALE, 375 
 
 little of a stab with a dagger, or open violence, to rid her of the zone 
 and the valnable ornaments she had abont her. The bazar, however, 
 was safe, and she might meet some one she knew, and obtain 
 protection. 
 
 There were many. Among them Janoo the Ramoosee, now very 
 tipsy, yet able to recognize her. He knew she was no friend of 
 Aniinda's or Tara's, and to her he told the same story as he had done 
 to Fazil. "Dead, all dead!" he cried, as he staggered away — "dis- 
 honoured and murdered by the negroes ; and they are buried in the 
 hole beyond the well, without the gate. Go and see — go and see." 
 
 She went up through the gate idly, and sat down beside the great 
 well. She dared not go beyond it. A large peepul tree hung over 
 it, and a number of Hindu soldiers were cooking under its shade. 
 She asked for a few hot cakes, and they gave them, and she ate them 
 there. Then she wandered into the fields and gardens beyond, and 
 so round to the Pap-nas temple, and sat down on the ledge of rock 
 above the little stream, which thence leapt plashing down the preci- 
 pice, looking over the broad plain, over which the light shadows of 
 fleecy clouds were chasing each other. 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears, for there came back to her, hard and 
 depraved as she was, many tender memories of the man whom she 
 had loved passionately; — feared, hated with bitter jealousy, and 
 again loved with that perversity which is part of the fiercest jealousy, 
 and distorts every semblance of truth to serve its own purpose. The 
 scene of Tara's inauguration came back to her memory, and her 
 beauty. "It was not his fault. Mother," she cried out aloud; "it was 
 thine, to send that lotos-faced girl to bewitch him, else he had been 
 true to me, and thou art rightly served for it. He said thou wast a 
 fiend, and feared thee not ; nor do I." 
 
 Yes, Tara was gone; would the Mussulman boy, so grand, so 
 beautiful, ever give up so lovely a captive ? Surely not. " Let him 
 have her," she said: "she will go away, far, far from me and him, 
 and it is well. Yes, it is well, and what have I to do but follow and 
 watch, — follow and watch ?" 
 
 Then she rose, remembering her store of money in a pot under 
 the fireplace, in a cloister of the temple, where she had lived. Her 
 clothes, her property, would be gone ; what matter, if that were safe ? 
 
 So she rose up and ran lightly along the plain, back to the gate, 
 avoiding the new graves ; then passed down the bazar and into the 
 temple court. All the dead had been removed. The scavengers were 
 washing the court, which she crossed rapidly. As she expected, her 
 room had been plundered, all her clothes were gone, but the fireplace 
 had not been disturbed. She closed the door carefully, then sat 
 down for a while with a beating heart, to see whether she were 
 followed or not ; no one came, — ^no one had cared to stop her, though 
 
376 TABA : 
 
 she had been seen. With a small iron bar which lay in a corner, she 
 hastily dug up the clay plastering of the hearth, and took out the 
 brass vessel she had hidden there, which contained her sayings ; there 
 were upwards of a hundred rupees in it — wealth to her. 
 
 Tying these coins carefully into her waistband, she again went out 
 into the court, and proceeded to the temple. "Do not go there," 
 cried a man sweeping; " it is not washed." But she went on. 
 
 It was not washed, and was ghastly with dried and clotted blood. 
 She looked into the shrine, to see what had become of the image, 
 venerated, feared, and yet even detested. It lay there as it had fallen. 
 "No one had yet dared to touch it, and the wicked eyes still glistened 
 and sparkled in the light of the lamp which had been placed beside 
 it. " Aha ! " cried the girl exultingly ; "lie there, liar and murder- 
 ing devil, as he called thee. He did not fear thee, nor do I. Lie 
 there, till they pick thee up ; or why dost thou not rise thyself ? Up, 
 Mother, up ! shall I help thee ?" she cried mockingly, as she seized 
 the stone hand; but she dropped it as instantly — it was wet and cold. 
 
 As she did so, she fancied the eyes turned spitefully towards her, 
 and a horrible superstitious terror came into her heart when she 
 looked at her hand and saw it was covered with blood. Then she 
 shrieked and fled shuddering, out of the front entrance to the vesti- 
 bule, across the court, up the steps, staying only for a moment to 
 wash hurriedly in the sacred cistern. Thus she went into the bazar, 
 and sought out a carrier who she knew possessed a strong pony, who 
 agreed to take her to Sholapoor; and, purchasing a heavy, coarse 
 cotton sheet, she wrapped herself in it, and, mingling with the crowd 
 of camp-followers, rode after the force to Sholapoor. 
 
 For many days she could get no speech of Moro Trimmul. She 
 had seen him taken to rivulets and wells to bathe, and he had also 
 seen her ; but though she daily tried, on one pretence or other, to 
 get near him, she was repulsed. It was enough, however, that fehe 
 knew where he was. 
 
 It was not long after his release ere he discovered her. She did 
 not importune him, and he could hardly resist the devotion which 
 had prompted her to abandon what had been her home and follow 
 his fortunes. He trusted also to induce her, gradually, again to 
 further his designs against Tara, which, now that her parents, and, 
 as he believed, also his own sister, were all dead, appeared more 
 probable of success than before. 
 
 If ever this selfish man had felt a pang of real grief in his life, it 
 was when he had heard of his sister's death. Poor Radha ! whom he 
 had settled at last so well, when any provision for her had become 
 next to hopeless — Radha, who, with all her faults, was part of his 
 own rugged nature, polished and set in a more beautiful frame. It 
 was impossible not to grieve for her. This was the first impression ; 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 377 
 
 afterwards there ensned an element of rejoicing in it, wliicli daily 
 grew stronger. That he was free — free to act : free from the keen 
 perception and daring opposition of his sister, w^hich, ever protecting 
 Tara as with a shield, had only yielded to violence at the last. 
 
 Now Tara was within his reach, and, comparatively speaking, in a 
 far greater measure than before. He knew her to be safe in the 
 family with whom she had obtained protection. Their own high 
 honour and strict respectability w^ere guarantee for this. Knowing 
 her helplessness, Moro Trimmnl had but one source of alarm or 
 apprehension : she might allow herself to be converted to the Maho- 
 medan faith, or it might be done without her consent. Then, indeed, 
 there would be no hope. 
 
 But, on the other hand, was she not a Brahmun — wonderfully 
 learned for a w^oman, proud of this learning, and, above all, a self- 
 professed devotee of the goddess ? 
 
 "]N^o," he thought, "they may attempt conversion, probably wdll 
 do so, but she will resist it : and yet she should not be too long 
 exposed to a double temptation." N'ow, therefore, as before, he 
 discussed plans with Gunga as to what means could be employed to 
 separate Tara from her new protectors, and carry her away into the 
 wilds of his native province, where she could be eflectually concealed ; 
 and his pursuit of the girl grew once more into a fierce and morbid 
 passion, absorbing and deadening all other feelings of his life. 
 
 CHAPTER LXY. 
 
 " The gods be praised! " cried Jeyram Bhopey to Wamun Bhut, late 
 in the day after the attack upon the temple. '*He has opened his 
 eyes once more. Speak, Vyas Shastree ; you are safe amongst 
 friends : the gods be praised, and Toolja Mata, for this mercy, for we 
 little expected to see you live." 
 
 "Who are you? " said the Shastree faintly. "I see very dimly, 
 and it appears very dark. — Anunda ! Tara ! " 
 
 "I, Wamun, speak to you," replied the elder of the two priests, 
 **and this is Jeyram Bhopey. We carried you aw^ay, and you are 
 safe in the house of Gunnesh Hurry, Putwari of Sindphul. — Look, 
 friends," he continued, speaking to others without the door of the 
 room, " the Shastree is alive, and hath spoken, and asked for his wife 
 and daughter." 
 
 Vyas Shastree was sensible that the room darkened again, as a 
 number of men crowded to the door ; but, feeling sick and faint from 
 the exertion of speaking even those few words, thought himself 
 dying, and relapsed again into insensibility. 
 
378 TABA 
 
 Yery anxiously did all those friends watcli around tlie wounded 
 man ; and it was long before lie showed any appearance of rallying 
 strength. Night passed, and they hardly expected he would see the 
 day ; but still he breathed, and as morning was breaking, a warm 
 moisture took the place of the chill, clammy, deathlike state in which 
 he had remained previously, and then those attending him hoped 
 that he would live. 
 
 He had received a fearful wound. Bareheaded as he was in the 
 performance of the ceremonies so rudely interrupted, he had not 
 thought of protecting himself ; but, as the Abyssinians advanced, had 
 caught a sword and shield offered him by a man in the crowd, who 
 di'ew back and fled, and had passed to the front with some others, 
 crying the shout of the goddess, " Jey Kalee ! " " Jey Toolja ! " and 
 catching blows on the shield rather than returning them. But when 
 a gigantic negro before him was pressing upon the front rank of 
 those who defended the entrance to the vestibule, so heavily that it 
 seemed as if they must give way, the old soldier spirit within the 
 Shastree was stirred, and he struck desperately at the man. Stung 
 by the pain of the wound, the negro instantly returned the blow with 
 a furious cut, which laid open the crown of the Shastree's head from 
 back to front. Well for him that the shield had greatly broken the 
 force of it, or he had died instantly; as it was, the Shastree fell 
 stunned, and was trampled upon by the advancing crowd ; and lay 
 there, unconscious, until the early morning. 
 
 Then the two friends who had watch him fall, and who, concealed 
 in the recess behind the shrine, had escaped slaughter, came forth 
 and sought for him. They found him under a pile of dead, still 
 breathing, but utterly insensible. It was impossible to take him to 
 his own house, for the gateway and bazar were filled with Abys- 
 sinians, and they feared a renewal of slaughter with the dawn ; so 
 they lifted the Shastrqe from the ground, obtained a bedstead from 
 one of the closed archway rooms, put him upon it, and, being joined 
 by several of the Bhopey priests, had broken open the postern by 
 which Tara had been taken away, and carried him at once, unobserved, 
 to Sindphul. 
 
 Had Tara remained where she had been first stopped, she must 
 have seen her father borne past her, and would have been saved ; but 
 Fazil Khan had sent her palankeen to the trees by the back of the 
 rivulet, about a gunshot's distance from the path, out of sight ; and 
 though those who carried the Shastree were challenged by Shere 
 Khan's horsemen, there was nothing suspicious in the fact of a dead 
 body, for so it seemed, being carried away, — and the little procession 
 had passed unnoticed. 
 
 Heera, the barber of Sindphul, was a skilful surgeon, and on his 
 arrival at the house of the Putwari or accountant of the village, the 
 
A MAERATTA TALE. 370 
 
 Shastree's wound was examined. The barber bad seldom seen 
 worse, and during the time wbicb bad elapsed since be bad received- 
 it, tbe Sbastree bad become weak from loss of blood. So Heera 
 sbook bis bead. Still be did bis best : tbe wound was sewn up skil- 
 fully, and a composing poultice of warm leaves and berbs applied to 
 it, wbile tbe bruised body was fomented. All nigbt bad Heera 
 watcbed anxiously witb tbe friends about tbe Sbastree, fearing tlie 
 worst, for be was restless and f everisb ; but witb tbe morning came 
 refreshing sleep, and tbe warm moist skin for w^bicb tbe barber bad 
 so anxiously looked. Tben be said, "If tbe gods please, tbe 
 Sbastree will live. Let bim be kept quiet, and tbe room darkened."' 
 
 At first tbe women of bis family were bardly missed. All tbose 
 wbo could escape bad fled into tbe fields and gardens around little 
 Tooljapoor, and many into tbe deep ravine beyond tbe town, or to 
 adjacent villages. Sindpbul was crowded witb tbem, and no one 
 dare return till tbe Mabomedan force bad passed. 
 
 Tb^ Bboslay of Sindpbul bad searched again and again through 
 his village and its hamlets for the Shastree's wives and for Tara, but 
 in vain. He had sent men to look for them in their own house, but 
 they were not there. The place showed the signs of violence we 
 already know of ; and the men in charge of it could only hope that 
 Janoo Kaik might account for tbem. 
 
 Janoo bad been sought, therefore, and found in the liquor-seller's 
 shop drinking out bis money ; and when asked for Anunda and 
 Tara, said, witb drunken solemnity, that be bad buried them all. 
 The idea had possessed bim that this was the safest answer for all 
 questioners, and he held to it the more pertinaciously as bis drunken- 
 ness increased. It was impossible not to fear that tbe story might 
 be true ; for all bad seen Tara in the throng of priests and priestesses, 
 and knew also that Anunda and Radha had been in the temple. 
 
 We left them crouching in a niche, as it were, of the rock, 
 overgrown by long pendant creepers and grass, near the little spring, 
 and there they passed the night. At early dawn Janoo bad come to 
 them witb bis son, and told them that their house had been attacked 
 in tbe night, and was no safe place for them. It was polluted, 
 moreover, and they could not return to it. That Tara and tbe Sbas- 
 tree had escaped to Sindpbul ; that he dare not take them past tbe 
 force which was guarding the town and pass, and that they must go 
 to Afsinga, where all was quiet. He knew they had friends in a 
 Brabmun's family wbicb resided there, and thither Anunda and 
 Radha suffered themselves to be guided by the boy, while Janoo,. 
 after seeing them safe across the bill, returned to his post. 
 
 Weeping bitterly, hardly knowing whether to go on Avith the lad 
 or to return, at all risks, to Tooljapoor, the two women had yielded 
 to Jiinoo's well-intended but mistaken direction. The path was 
 
:380 TAEA 
 
 stony and rougli, and their naked feet, nrnised to such places, were 
 sorely bruised and cut in descending the rugged track by which, 
 through the most intricate and gloomy ravines of the hills, they were 
 guided. It was hardly four miles, perhaps, and yet, faint and 
 wretched as they were, the sun was high in the heavens ere they 
 reached their destination, and were kindly received. 
 
 They told their story ; but what could be done ? Who could go to 
 Tooljapoor ? The Brahmun to whose house they had betaken them- 
 selves was old and feeble, but a student who lived with him, and who 
 had been absent since daylight to obtain information, returned about 
 noon. He had no news of the Shastree or of Tara ; but he volun- 
 teered to go again to seek them, and did so, returning at night with 
 accounts of a fruitless search. Janoo, he said, knew nothing of them, 
 and he had found him telling the same story, that he had buried 
 Anunda and Radha out of sight, — and understood — what the faithful 
 but drunken creature had perhaps meant to convey to all inquirers — 
 that they were safely hidden away. 
 
 Perhaps Janoo would not have been absent so long had he been 
 sober ; but the excitement and his potations together had been too 
 much for him. When he awoke, having lain down to sleep in the 
 bazar, it was evening, and they were lighting the lamps in the shops. 
 "It is too late now,'' thought he, "to go across the hills for the 
 Shastree's wives, and they are safer where they are;" so he betook 
 himself to the house. His men were there in charge. The dead 
 negro had been taken out and buried, and some of the blood washed 
 ^way ; but the place was utterly defiled : the sacred fire had gone out, 
 and the whole premises must undergo purification ere they could 
 enter or inhabit it once more. Janoo shrugged his shoulders — " They 
 cannot live here," he said ; " there is the hut in the garden at Sind- 
 phul, and I will take them there and hide them in it." 
 
 So in the morning, before it was light, he set out from Tooljapoor, 
 and crossed the hills, with two of his men leading two stout ponies 
 for the women, and reached Afsinga before the sun had risen. He 
 brought no tidings of the Shastree ; but it was reported generally in 
 the town, he said, that he and Tara were at Sindphul ; and, in any 
 case, they must go there and live in the garden till the house could 
 be purified, and fit to be again inhabited. This was scant comfort 
 to Anunda and Radha ; but Janoo said that most families in the town 
 were in the same predicament, that he knew the Shastree and Tara 
 were not among the dead, and probability confirmed the report that 
 they had fled in the confusion, and were safe. 
 
 It was hardly four miles to Sindphul by the road at the foot of the 
 hills on the plain ; and they set out, after their hospitable hosts had 
 insisted upon their taking an early meal. Anunda would fain have 
 gone by Tooljapoor, but Janoo overruled it. There was no one there ; 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 3813 
 
 they would only sit down and cry at tlie house door ; and if the- 
 Shastree were at Sindphul, they would be delayed going to him. 
 Nobody had been disturbed there ; and the Bhoslay and the Put^ 
 wari would advise them for the best in any case. 
 
 All these arguments overruled Anunda, and they set out with their- 
 guide. They met no one, except a few men watching in their fields 
 by the wayside, who told them all was quiet. Janoo would not even 
 take them near the pass of Tooljapoor, but, striking across the plain 
 by the Gosai's Mutt, and through the great mango grove, they 
 reached Sindphul unobserved. 
 
 It is not a large village, and they were well known there. Passing 
 up the central street, they had greetings from many friends, both 
 men and women. At last they saw their own old gardener sitting 
 weeping at the door of the Putwari's house ; and Janoo, who was 
 leading Anunda's pony, took them thither. They were both sick at 
 heart as they dismounted and entered. The Putwari's wife and his 
 married daughter who lived in the house were kind people, and met 
 them in the outer court. *' He is alive," said the dame ; " fear not. 
 Heera has dressed the wound, and he has spoken to my husband, and 
 asked for you. We told him we had sent for you, and that you were 
 coming, and, behold, the gods have brought you." Then she led 
 Anunda, weeping, into the inner court, and Radha followed. The- 
 m.en sitting about the door of the apartment got up, and, feeling they 
 had no more to do, went out, all but the old Putwari. 
 
 *'Yyas Shastree," he said, as the women approached the door, "be 
 comforted ; they are safe, and have come to you. Be gentle with 
 him," he added to Anunda ; " he is very weak, and Heera says if he- 
 is made anxious, Or disturbed, fever may come on; therefore, be 
 careful." 
 
 It was well meant to give them caution, but at such moments, 
 nature will have its course. The women had existed — since tha 
 attack on the temple, and since they had fled mth Janoo — in a state 
 of intense fear and misery which cannot be described ; and yet one 
 m.ercy had accompanied this dread, that they had not fully known 
 what had happened in the temple, and so hope had sustained them. 
 Now, however, there was no doubt ; and in a paroxysm of mingled 
 fear and thankfulness, they cast themselves beside the low bed, 
 embracing their husband's feet, and weeping passionately. The 
 Shastree was too weak to speak or move ; he could only lift up his 
 hand gently, as if to bless them and welcome them, while a faint 
 but grateful smile spread itself over his pallid features. 
 
 For a little time, and as they sat silently beside him ministering 
 to their wants — for Anunda was an unrivalled nurse, and had at 
 once proceeded to arrange many things about him, as he liked — 
 strange to say, they did not miss Tara ; but Anunda's mind sud- 
 
382 TABA : 
 
 denlj misgave lier. Her husband, wliom her arrival had aroused, 
 had again fallen into a doze, and she went outside to ask for her. 
 The whole court had been left to them, and the door of the outer 
 one was closed. " Tara,'^ she called gently, several times, but there 
 was no reply. She might be asleep, she thought, in one of the 
 rooms which opened into it, and she searched in each in succession. 
 There was no one. Radha joined her. *' Where is Tara?" she 
 said, " She should have been with him." True, she should have 
 been with her father, but she was not. 
 
 The women turned sick at heart and sat down. A nameless 
 terror seized them, so absorbing, that they could say nothing, but 
 that she was not. Anunda dare not ask. Of the two, Radha was 
 most self-possessed. Looking through the door, she saw the old 
 Putwari's wife sitting outside it, and as if watching the place. She 
 called her in, and the dame saw at a glance what was needed. O 
 the misery of that mother's face ! who, after trying to articulate 
 *' Tara," which her lips formed, as though she spoke the word, fell 
 forward clasping the knees and feet of her old friend, and groaning 
 in her despair. 
 
 " The gods have given thee one precious object, sister, and taken 
 the other," she said. " Be thankful for what is spared thee." 
 
 Then Anunda thought Tara was dead, and so did Badha ; but 
 the woman resumed — 
 
 "And yet, why should I say so, Anunda? We know not; she 
 has not been heard of. Let us wait. Hundreds of our friends fled 
 from the temple and from the town. Many we sheltered here all 
 yesterday till the force passed by ; then they returned home. So 
 Tara may be at some village near, and we have men watching at 
 your house and at the temple. The Bhopeys will send intelligence 
 if they get any." 
 
 " She is not in the garden?" asked Radha. 
 
 "1^0 ; we searched there long ago, and in all the gardens. ISTo, 
 she is not here, and you must wait. |^She was favoured of the 
 Mother, sister, and will not be deserted. At least we know she was 
 not killed." 
 
 Anunda was comforted for the moment by this, and the women 
 went and resumed their watch by their husband. It was a relief, 
 perhaps, not to speak — a relief, too, to find, in watching him and 
 ministering to his wants, a diversion from the other care. Sooner 
 or later Tara might come in. Janoo had at once gone in search of 
 her ; the Bhoslay had despatched horsemen to every village around, 
 and there would surely be news of her before nightfall. 
 
 But none came that night, nor the next day. The Shastree was 
 not yet aware of Tara's absence ; fever had begun — the fever of the 
 wound — and he was unconscious of most things. Sometimes he 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 38:^ 
 
 recognized Annnda, and sometimes called Radha, Tara. It was a 
 blessed tiling tlien that lie knew no more. Neither of the women 
 relaxed for a moment in their work, and sat there bj the bed, with- 
 out sleep and without rest, looking for news of Tara; but none came. 
 Messenger after messenger arrived, but with no tidings of her. 
 
 Late next daj Janoo returned. He must see Anunda, he said; he 
 had news of importance about Tara, and, so far as he knew, she was 
 not dead. 
 
 Anunda went to the man outside ; he might not enter because of 
 his impure caste. 
 
 Janoo was a man of few words and scant ceremony, and he blurted 
 out, " Moro Trimmul and Gunga took her away, lady. I was drink- 
 ing last night with some of our people, who are strangers, and came 
 from a distance, and who were dividing booty : and they said they 
 had carried off a beautiful Moorlee as the disturbance broke out, 
 and put her in a palankeen, and they were paid by Moro Trimmul, 
 the reciter. They treated me and some of my people to liquor, and 
 told us of this as a good piece of business. And I have not stolen 
 them, lady ; but the jewels you gave me are gone ; they were given 
 to Pahar Singh's hunchback, who came and asked for them in the 
 Kucheri in my name : but Pahar Singh will give them up ; or if 
 not, I will burn a corn-stack of his every night till he does." 
 
 All this was told rapidly and confusedly. The detail was hardly 
 intelligible ; but one great fact came out beyond all others, and if it 
 were true, iDctter Tara were dead — 0, far better ! 
 
 "Wait," said Anunda, "and I will come to thee again;" and 
 she went in and whispered it all to Radha. She saw the girl's face 
 flush and her bosom heave rapidly. " Gunga must have helped 
 him," she said, " else he had not dared it, and I will see to it my- 
 self." So they both went out to the Ramoosee, and Radha at once 
 declared she would go with him to the town above, and make 
 inquiries. 
 
 She was shrewd and active. Accompanied by Janoo and two of 
 the Bhoslay's retainers, she soon found the man from w^hom Janoo 
 had heard of Tara, and listened to his story. They had known 
 nothing of Moro Trimmul's purpose, he said, till that night of the 
 recitation, or how the girl they took was to be decoyed away, or w^ho 
 she was ; but as the disturbance began, she was brought out by him 
 in his arms, and then they took her. Yes, he knew what had become 
 of her. Moro Trimmul had been put in irons by the Mahomedan 
 chief, and Tara had been carried off to Sholapoor. He and his 
 companions had watched the palankeen from the rocks in the ravine 
 where they had hidden themselves, because, if it had been left un- 
 guarded, they would have gone to it. 
 
 It was clear enough now, therefore, that Tara was gone, not dead. 
 
384 TARA : 
 
 That would liave been grief — bitter grief ; but here was more misery 
 than death would have caused. Who had taken their- Tara ? for 
 what fate was she reserved ? They could only think of her beauty 
 as destined for some Mahomedan harem — reserved for a fate worse 
 than death. 
 
 It was piteous to see the mother and the sister- wife prostrated 
 under this misery and the state of their husband ; and it was with 
 difficulty that Radha was restrained from going at once to Sholapoor 
 after the camp, and endeavouring to trace and reclaim Tara. If she 
 had only done so — if this energetic girl, used to rough ways and 
 rapid journeys, had been allowed to follow out her own plans, what 
 misery might not have been saved to all ! Hard she pleaded, that 
 she could not be denied to her brother. She would force from him 
 an account of Tara, and would bring her back. 
 
 But Anunda hesitated ; and the Shastree, to whom all was told, 
 weak as he was in body, was more than usually vacillating. The 
 Mahomedan camp, full of licentiousness, was no place for a Brahmun 
 girl. " The Shastree must be attended," Anunda said ; and, in 
 Tara's absence, he seemed to cling the more fondly to his young 
 wife, and to miss her ministrations if even she was temporarily 
 absent. Finally, the matter was left in the hands of their friends, 
 the Bhoslay and the old Putwari, and they decided that Badha 
 must not go; but a messenger should be sent, who, assisted by 
 friends and Brahmuns at Sholapoor, would do all that was needful 
 or possible. 
 
 In truth, all these friends thought that seeking for Tara at all 
 was injudicious.* They could not believe, considering her beauty 
 and public vocation as a priestess, that she could have escaped ob- 
 servation, and they had come to the conclusion that her preservation 
 from dishonour was impossible. Better she were dead ; or, if alive, 
 reunion was henceforth impossible, for the hard rules of religious 
 faith must exclude her from all assistance and sympathy. These 
 were home truths which, sooner or later, Yyas Shastree himself 
 would acknowledge ; and Radha's plan was overruled. 
 
 It was some days before an answer came. Communications 
 were necessarily slow when there were only foot messengers to carry 
 them. The Shastree's fever had passed away, and his wound was 
 progressing favourably. Mentally and bodily, he had passed a 
 fearful crisis ; but natures like his bow to these calamities rather 
 than break, and there was hope at least in the messenger who had 
 gone, to which they all clung. 
 
 Little by little they heard enough to sustain this hope. The 
 Bhoslay's correspondent, a banker in the town of Sholapoor, had 
 spared no pains for the recovery of Yyas Shastree's child; but beyond 
 the fact that in the family of Afzool Khan there was a new Hindu 
 
A M All R ATT A TALE. 385 
 
 slave, of great beauty, wlio was carefully secluded in the zenana, he' 
 could ascertain nothing ; and the inquiries, he wrote, must be con- 
 tinued in camp, for the force had marched, and was now some 
 stages distant, going towards Wye. 
 
 Again, after an interval of weary expectation, and the daily en- 
 durance of that heavy weight of uncertainty which is so often worse 
 than the bitterest agony of reality, there came fresh news which 
 they could not doubt. A poor Brahmun of Sholapoor, incited by 
 the offer of reward held out by the Shastree's friends, had proceeded 
 to camp, and returned from it direct. They never forgot that evening 
 of his arrival. The Shastree had, meanwhile, been removed to his 
 own house, as soon as it had undergone purification, and lay, weak 
 as yet, but convalescent, in the verandah of the inner court, living, 
 as he said, in sight of the objects most loved by his lost child ; and 
 it was almost an occupation to watch dreamily Tara's bright flowers 
 glowing in the sunlight. He was lying there, watching them, as 
 the evening sun declined, and the colour of its light was growing- 
 richer as the shadows of the buildings lengthened, and Anunda had 
 just said he must retire to his room; but he was pleading to be 
 allowed to stay, when the man was announced without. 
 
 Weary and footsore, Radha and a servant poured water over his 
 feet, and led him in. " There was no bad news," he said ; " none, 
 Tara was well." Then they all listened, with grateful hearts and 
 tears of jqy, to the man's tale of having discovered her, though he 
 could not get speech of her or send a message to her ; but in Af zool 
 Khan's family there was a Brahmun girl called Tara, who was an 
 honoured guest; her people had been killed, they said, and they 
 were taking her to Wye, to her relatives. He had watched several 
 days about the Khan's tents in hope of seeing her, but in vain ; for 
 the servants and soldiers, thinking him a spy, had beaten him and 
 driven him off. Day by day the distance back to Tooljapoor grew 
 greater, so he had returned. But there was no doubt; the man 
 described what he had heard distinctly, and they could now trace 
 Tara from the temple to where she then was. She must believe 
 they were all dead, and was going to their relatives at Wye : and 
 she was at least safe from Moro Trimmul, whom the messenger 
 reported to be in close confinement. 
 
 Now, for once, there was no indecision or vacillation in the Shas- 
 tree's mind. He could bear easy travelling in a litter ; and Radha 
 should have it by-and-by, when he grew stronger. He would not 
 delay, and they could yet overtake the army at Wye, or soon after- 
 wardsr Yery little of the household property had been lost, after all; 
 and Anunda's store of money was at last to prove useful. That 
 night, as with thankful hearts they spoke of their lost child, they 
 arranged plans for setting out to reclaim her ; and their friends, 
 
 2 c 
 
386 TABA : 
 
 wlio crowded about tliem with congratulations next day, soon com- 
 pleted the necessary arrangements. The third day was a lucky one, 
 according to the planets ; and they moved down the pass to Sindphul, 
 followed by many friends, and the good wishes and prayers of all 
 who had known Tara from childhood. 
 
 CHAPTER LXYI. 
 
 A PLEASANT life was it to Tara. The daily stages of a large army 
 encumbered with heavy materiel are necessarily slow at all times, and 
 the country roads were not as yet dry from the recent rains, so that 
 the force could not hurry on. The Khan himself v/as in no haste. 
 On the arrival of the Mahratta ambassadors he had received them 
 courteously, and insisted upon their being the guests of the royal 
 camp. They had not much to say, beyond general protestations of 
 attachment. Their master's demands were simple, they knew ; but 
 he would treat for them in person when he met the Khan. Mean- 
 while, supplies for the royal forces were abundant ; the stages they 
 arranged were shorter perhaps than the Khan, and especially Fazil, 
 approved of ; but they found grain and forage provided everywhere, 
 and the camp bazar had always the appearance of a busy fair. 
 
 On his own part, Afzool Khan, yielding to the persi^asions of 
 Sivaji's agents, despatched an envoy of his own, the Brahmun Punto 
 Gropinath, to Pertabgurh. Their master's mind, they said, would be 
 relieved by it ; and as Sivaji had evinced confidence in sending his 
 own servants unsolicited, so a similar mark of courtesy could hardly 
 be refused. The Khan did not object to it. The Envoy received his 
 instructions, to act as circumstances might require, leaving all points 
 of detail for future arrangement ; and Bulwunt Rao was placed in 
 command of the escort which accompanied him. In this capacity he 
 was safe against all local enemies ; and he went the more willingly, 
 as he trusted, under this opportunity, to interest the Rajah in his 
 own affairs. 
 
 So there was no hurry, and it was a pleasant life. Every day, or 
 nearly so, there was a change ; the force moved forward a few miles, 
 or it halted ; tents were pitched, thrown down, moved, and again 
 pitched in pleasant places ; perhaps in some soft grassy plain 
 spangled with flowers, or in a stubble field with the stacks of ripe 
 grain standing around them. The Khan's Durbar tent was open to 
 all comers, where the leaders of the various bodies of troops met 
 every day for business or ceremonial visits, as it might be : behind 
 it the private tents enclosed by a canvas wall, which afforded a large 
 area. Before all, floated the royal standard, and a place was cleared 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 387 
 
 near it wkicli was appropriated for public prayer. Five times in 
 each day, if the force halted, did the musical chant of invitation to 
 prayer resound from this spot ; and as often did the devout among 
 the soldiery assemble there, and perform the stated devotions. 
 Every afternoon the priest and other divines preached to the people; 
 and it was remarked that the sermons on the holy war, though they 
 were continued at intervals, were of quieter character than they used 
 to be at first. 
 
 Perhaps the religious zeal of fche Peer had relaxed since the 
 slaughter at Tooljapoor, and was satisfied with the fact of fche idol 
 having been overthrown and defiled. Perhaps the Khan supposed 
 enough had been done to terrify the Mahratta people, and that the 
 rest would follow upon negotiation. 
 
 There was very little change in the daily life : the early march, 
 the halt for the day, the household occupations, and then the pleasant 
 talk with Zyna and Lurlee. Her tales of the Hindu life, and of her 
 home pleasures and occupations, were told again and again by Tara, 
 often with bitter tears, and yet told again and again, and heard by 
 sympathizing friends. 
 
 Two di:fferent worlds, as it were, were thus brought together. 
 What did the simple Brahmun girl know of the grandeur of Maho- 
 medan nobles, of which only a faint rumour had ever reached her ? 
 To her unclean, she would once have shuddered at nearer contact 
 with them, however rich or grand they might be. N^ow, how 
 dift'erent ! They had respected her honour, and they also respected 
 her faith; and every day her little cooking-place was arranged, with 
 water brought by a Brahmun for her bath and her drinking, which 
 no one interfered with. Sometimes, Zyna and Lurlee would look on 
 while the little maiden dressed her simple meal, as she had often done 
 at home, — amused, and wondering at her dexterity ; and it was not 
 long before the Khan himself was a petitioner for some delicate 
 specimen of her handiwork, which, it was remarked, he ate with 
 infinite relish, and pronounced better even than Kurreema's efforts 
 to the same end. 
 
 They procured the girl the books she loved, and eagerly, and with 
 infinite animation, she would read and expound sacred texts, which 
 even the priest admitted contained at least moral and virtuous 
 doctrine. Occasionally, too, he was unable to control himself, and 
 he answered the little preacher from his own books, hurling at her 
 texts translated from the Koran into bad Mahratta ; and half angry 
 with, and half amused by, the seeming petulance with which she 
 resisted conversion, allowed her greater liberties, perhaps, than he 
 had ever been known to submit to before from " an infidel." 
 
 " See," she would cry, "Huzrut ! here are God's holy words to us 
 poor Hindus hundreds of thousands of yeara old, but yours are, after 
 
388 TABA 
 
 all, but a few hundreds. Surely the elder has precedence ? " If she 
 could translate the beautiful Bhugwat Geeta to him, that book so 
 full of mystic religious doctrine, he could understand her better, she 
 thought ; but she had no words that he could comprehend, in which 
 to convey the sense of the noble Sanscrit ; and it must be confessed 
 that her general attempts in argument were failures. 
 
 Kind Tara ! gentle Tara ! was any servant ill, — and the cold air 
 and damp earth gave many fevers, — who so ready with knowledge 
 of simples as the Brahmun girl ? who so watchful, who so careful ? 
 In turn she had tended Lurlee and Zyna, who suffered at first from 
 the change and exposure in camp. Then Fazil grew ill too, and for 
 several days could not ride. She could ride : she had never travelled 
 in a palankeen in her life — her father could not afford one : so she 
 gave up her litter to him, and rode a stout ambling palfrey of the 
 Khan's which was gentle, and a relief on long marches from his 
 heavier war-horse ; and old Shere Khan and his men, her first escort 
 from Tooljapoor, claimed the privilege of guarding her as she rode, 
 rapidly and fearlessly, and managed the active horse with skill and 
 grace. 
 
 Once Moro Trimmul saw her riding with this escort of heavily- 
 armed men. She was wrapped in shawls, and had twisted one round 
 her head like a turban, which covered her face all but her eyes. He 
 concealed his own face and person as she passed, but the fact that 
 she was riding with so noble a company to attend on her, disquieted 
 him. "She is growing into favour," he thought, "and is in danger. 
 It is necessary to act before we reach Wye." 
 
 Whether Moro Trimmul was in camp or not, she had not thought 
 to inquire. Fazil had told her once, with a very perceptible tone of 
 disappointment, that he had been released, and had gone away. He 
 was never seen in the camp, but, with Sivaji's envoys, put up in 
 villages near where the force might halt. They did not vex her 
 with his tale of her having been taken away under her father's 
 sanction, which Fazil, Lurlee, and Zyna had never believed, and by 
 common consent the name of the Brahmun was never mentioned 
 among them. 
 
 Ah, yes, a pleasant time indeed ! What more delicious to a young 
 girl's heart than the consciousness of awakening love ? Could she 
 help it ? did she desire it ? Neither, perhaps ; but it would come 
 nevertheless : and there would come too, with all the persuasive ad- 
 juncts of her own helplessness and dependence, the sense of evident 
 respect in which she was held by Fazil, and his honourable reticence, 
 even of speech with her. So a new life, a new desire for life, was 
 growing within her, and increased day by day. Did she endeavour 
 to check it ? Not then ; it was too delicious. 
 
 Before it, the old home w^s fading away, the forms of father and 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 389 
 
 mother already becoming dim and shadowy, as belonging to the past. 
 The old temple occupations, the preparation for daily duty, were 
 being supplanted by other feelings, undecided as yet, but ineffably 
 tender. Did she regret that these were growing into definite form 
 in her own heart ? Not then. She had no certainty of what she 
 thought, and if any one, even Zyna, had asked her to define what 
 was passing within her, she could not have done so. 
 
 O, the wondrous stirring of that new life, shutting out all the 
 old ! the gentle growing of an absorbing passion. If Fazil spoke to 
 her, she trembled ; but not in fear. She had no fear of him. No 
 matter what he said, she listened, and never replied. When he was 
 ill, she took to him the little soothing potions she had made, and, 
 as he lay tossing with fever, was conscious that they would relieve 
 thirst, and would not be forgotten. She could speak to him then, a 
 word only, perhaps, to tell him to be patient, that he would be re- 
 lieved if he would be still. Even this was a fearful but an exquisite 
 pleasure. 
 
 How often Zyna spoke of her brother ! How precious he was to 
 her ; how brave he was ; how beautiful ! Had Tara ever seen any 
 one like him ? No ; those timid, loving eyes had never looked up 
 to any one before, far less to such a one as Fazil. What did she 
 know ? She could only see that there was, in her eyes, the godlike 
 beauty the old poets wrote of Kamdeo — those soft, loving eyes which 
 sometimes earnestly looked into hers, before which she dare not open 
 her own. If he came into the tent accoutred, blazing with cloth-of- 
 gold and steel armour, she fled at once, and from a distance watched 
 Zyna embrace him, perhaps fasten an amulet upon his arm, or relieve 
 him of his heavy clothing and armour. 
 
 If Fazil were absent, Tara and Zyna would often sit and talk of 
 him. Poor little heart ! how it fluttered then. She could not tell 
 his sister what rose to her lips, but, as her heart swelled, she felt as 
 if she could do some great thing for him or for Zyna — defend them, 
 or avert evil from them — even if she died herself, it would be wel- 
 come. Yes, the old story — the old story ! — the telling of which, in 
 all its wondrous forms, will never finish here, or finish, but to be 
 renewed hereafter! 
 
 Did Fazil perceive this ? Not yet. He had a true gentleman's 
 best safeguard against presumption, an innate modesty in regard to 
 women, which prevented it ; and yet .... how often he watched 
 the lithe and graceful figure as it passed from his presence on some 
 trifling errand, or the glowing intellectual face as it quivered under 
 the excitement of explaining any portion of one of her old-world 
 books which interested her, — or the quiet, demure expression which 
 gathered over it, as she sometimes brought — for she would allow no* 
 one else to touch the vessels she cooked it in — her little daily con 
 
BOO TABA : 
 
 tribution to his father's dinner, and waited apart with folded arms 
 till he had told her, mth a pleasant smile or joke, how much he 
 liked it! ' ^ 
 
 " Ah ! " said Shere Khan, after Fazil's first journey in the palankeen, 
 and as he lay, languid and weakened by his fever, in the outer tent 
 where his retainers could attend on him — " whom hast thou sent us, 
 Meah ? They tell of Chandnee Begum of the Nizam SLahee's, but 
 who, after all, was one of our royal race, — that she rode with her 
 army of true believers, and fought with her enemies. By Alia ! this 
 girl rides so that it is hard to follow her ; and we all say, there is 
 that in her eyes which, had she a sword in her hand, nay, without it, 
 would lead us, as only thou, or the Khan could lead us, Meah. Yes, 
 she is a jewel of great price." 
 
 And Fazil liked to hear this ; he liked to hear old Goolab exhaust 
 her vocabulary of endearment upon Tara, as she sat by him, rubbing 
 his feet when the fever oppressed him ; and when, in those feverish 
 dreams which are part of the disorder, strange fancies beset him, the 
 Brahmun girl often became a prominent actor in those unreal scenes 
 ^of his imagination. 
 
 So it grew on. The habits of Eastern people do not admit of 
 those demonstrations and protestations of love which form part of 
 our social habits. But we have no warrant for saying that their 
 Jeelings are the less ardent or permanent. We think not ; and that 
 there, as elsewhere, they progress silently, and are afterwards called 
 into active exercise by occasion and opportunity, and with possibly 
 more energy and passion than among ourselves. 
 
 When Lurlee had rallied the Brahmun girl sometimes upon her 
 attachment to her old faith, now, she said, hopeless, — and Zyna, 
 throwing her arms round her as they sat together in the twilight 
 after evening prayer, besought her to give it up — to come to them 
 as a sister, as a daughter, — and pleaded hard for this, — Tara was 
 sorely tried. Whom had she now to look to ? whither was she 
 going ? If there were some of her mother's relatives at Wye, — and 
 all she knew of them was the surname, — what was she to do ? 
 Even were they there, what was she to do ? Against her, ever rose 
 up the hard cruel wall of Hindu widowhood ; the servitude, the 
 nearly inevitable dishonour among strangers, of her own faith, the 
 hopeless weariness of an unloved and uncared-for life; and so, better 
 death. All this had passed through her mind before, at Tooljapoor, 
 and then there was no alternative. Now ? 
 
 O, how hard the new young life pleaded — as these thoughts passed 
 through her mind — the certainty of love on the one hand, even as 
 a friend or dependant, and of respect and protection from all evil, 
 ^ven though to minister to the old Khan should be her only occu- 
 pation. This, and to see Fazil daily — to see Zyna — to be held to 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 391 
 
 that rougli old Lurlee's heart — to be the child, for so they called 
 her, of all the servants, — what had the other life to compare with 
 this ? Even if she fonnd her people, what had they to offer her but 
 misery ? for so it seemed. 
 
 And when, one day (Wye was now only a few stages distant), 
 Zyna told; her what they wished — what they all spoke of among* 
 themselves — what Fazil had proposed to his father, — and how the 
 old Khan had at first gently resisted it, desiring a high connection 
 for his son, and yet had conceded in the end ; — when Lurlee came 
 and pleaded too, and told her, and proved to her by the planets 
 and the elements, that she would be fortunate to the house and to 
 Fazil — a loved and honoured wife, — what could she say ? The new 
 life now rose up within her vigorous and defiant against all other 
 thoughts ; and its blessed shape — definite, honourable, irresistible, 
 and delicious to contemplate — would not be repelled. 
 
 " Only give me time," she cried, hiding her burning face in Zyna's 
 bosom — " only give me time ! It is so sudden — so unlooked-for." 
 Then she added, after a pause, and looking up sadly, " I am his 
 ea,ptive and his slave ; not of your people, lady, but a stranger, and 
 an infidel, as the priest says ; impure among my own sect, and of no 
 account but for shame and dishonour. As such, I cannot come to a 
 noble house. Ah, do not mock me ! " 
 
 " They say," returned Zyna, "that the Emperors of Delhi sought 
 brides from among the Rajpoots, and esteemed them as honourable 
 and as noble as themselves ; and thou art a Brahmun, Tara, far 
 purer and nobler than they. But no matter : thou art our own 
 Tara, whom Alia hath sent to us, and whom we have received 
 thankfully, for him whose heart no one as yet has touched. Let it 
 be as we all will ;" and Tara, at last, said it should be so. 
 
 Was she grateful or happy, this desolate girl ? O, far beyond 
 either ! All those dreamy imaginings which at home, among her 
 books and flowers, had taken no definite shape, now assumed a 
 palpable reality. In her eyes glorious, in her heart Fazil was 
 supremely glorious also. She dared not look at him now, even by 
 stealth ; but there was ever a sweet assurance of his presence — of 
 his care — of his thought, which produced a kind of ecstasy, filling 
 her mind with a sublime devotion and innocent passion : often 
 filling her eyes, too, causing a strangely tight feeling at her heart as 
 if she could not breathe, and then a deep sigh as her tears welled 
 over ; and she hoped, with an almost delirious joy, that she was to 
 belong to him by-and-by : no matter how far distant it might be, — 
 only to belong to him, and be for ever with him. 
 
 And so the time passed to them all. A pleasant life which, day 
 by day, grew to be more absorbing to Tara, and caused indifference 
 to outward occurrences. But had her enemy been idle ? 
 
302 TABA : 
 
 The force marclied late one day. Moro Trimimil liad ascertained 
 that the litters and followers generally, would not arrive in camp 
 before nightfall. It was dark, for there was no moon ; and he laid 
 his plans accordingly. Day and night, he and Gunga, in various 
 disguises, had watched about the Khan's tents, and had tried to get 
 speech of the servants. He dare not come openly, except to the 
 Khan's Durbar, where he heard nothing. He was nearly hopeless 
 of success, when he understood casually that the evening march was 
 determined upon. All the force was not to move ; but some only 
 with the Khan, for the sake of convenience of supplies and water. 
 It was a short stage — only four or five miles, and the Khan's tents 
 were to precede the force. He and his family were to remain in a 
 village for the night, and several houses had been cleared for him. 
 Thus much had Grunga picked up, and for once, fortune seemed to 
 favour their designs. 
 
 Fazil had recovered, and again rode with his men. Tara, there- 
 fore, once more occupied the litter, which was closed, and carried 
 with those of Lurlee and Zyna. Had she continued to ride as she 
 wished, nothing could have happened. As it grew dark Moro Trim- 
 mul — with a small body of horsemen which he had detached from 
 the Envoy's and kept about his own person — followed Tara's litter 
 at a distance, and yet so as not to interfere with it. As it grew 
 dark, and they neared the place where they were to stop for the 
 night, he observed that Tara's palankeen was the last : he knew it 
 from the white devices sewn on the red cover ; and he dexterously, 
 yet apparently unpremeditatedly, pushed his horsemen between 
 it and the others, in a narrow lane, in which litters, horsemen, 
 and soldiers were much crowded together. Then he stopped his 
 men, pretending there was obstruction in front ; and so the litters 
 of Lurlee and Zyna, which were surrounded by footguards and 
 guides as usual, went on for some distance, never missing the one 
 behind. 
 
 Moro Trimmul was exultant. At the next turn in the road, his 
 own servants, who had been instructed beforehand, went to the 
 bearers of Tara's litter, pretending to have been seeking them, and, 
 abusing them roundly for their carelessness in remaining behind, 
 bade them come on rapidly. The men followed blindly ; they knew 
 they were to go to a village, and here was one ; and, pressing forward, 
 they presently reached a house to which they were directed. 
 
 " Put down the palankeen. Gosha ! Gosha ! Murdana ! Mur- 
 dana ! " was cried by several voices ; and a screen of cloth being 
 stretched, as usual, from the palankeen to the entrance of the court, 
 and the door of the litter opened, Tara emerged from it unsuspi- 
 ciously: then the door was instantly closed behind her, a thick 
 shawl was thrown round her head which almost stifled her, and she 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 393 
 
 felt herself taken up by powerful arms, and carried rapidly onwards. 
 She struggled violently, but a voice she knew but too well, hissed into 
 her ear through the shawl, " Be quiet, else I will kill you ;" and for 
 a moment she lost consciousness. 
 
 CHAPTER LXYII. 
 
 Taea revived as the shawl was pushed roughly from her head, and 
 the cool air reached her face ; in another moment she was set down 
 in a verandah, closed from the outer court by thick woollen curtains, 
 in which a small lamp, placed in a niche, glimmered faintly. There 
 could be no doubt now. R/cleasing her, Moro Trimmul drew him- 
 self up, panting with the exertion of carrying her, and looked at her 
 from head to foot ere he spoke ; while Gunga, advancing from a 
 dark corner of the room, and bending lowly with a mock gesture of 
 reverence, touched the ground near her feet, and then retreated a 
 pace so as to see her better. 
 
 ''Thou hast had powerful friends, Tara," said the Brahnmn 
 bitterly, and with a scornful sneer — " very powerful ; even the 
 enemy's general and his fair son ; but the gods are not with them, 
 but with me. Once, in blood and terror, didst thou escape me ; 
 but not now, girl — never more. Now thou art mine, and there is 
 nothing between thee and me ; nor sister, nor father, nor mother ; 
 only thee, and only me ; and thou hast a long account of misery to 
 pay me." 
 
 " The holy Moorlee of the goddess forgot her faith and her vow 
 among the cow- slaying infidels ; and the Mother hath sent me to 
 bring her back from her dainty lover, who rides in cloth- of- gold and 
 bright armour," said Grunga, with another mock reverence. "Art 
 thou ready, O Moorlee of Toolja Mata ? ready to be such as I am, 
 in her service ? Come ! there is thy master and mine ; be content 
 that thou art saved the sin of faithlessness to her. Didst thou think 
 she — the Mother," continued the girl, advancing a step at each word 
 till she was close to Tara, who shrank from her — "the Mother would 
 loose thee from thy vow to be the petted toy of an unclean Toork ? 
 
 Tara, didst thou think it? Ah, yes! I know thou didst, faithless, 
 when the fair boy's arms were about thee." 
 
 " Silence ! " cried Tara panting, as these bitter words stung her to 
 the quick. " Silence ! thou art shameless, Gunga. O, what have 
 
 1 ever done to harm thee, that thou hast such bitter enmity to 
 me?" 
 
 " Thou art beautiful, and I hate thee for that. I hated thee 
 long ago, before thou wast a Moorlee," she replied. "He loved me 
 
394 TABA 
 
 once, tliat Moro Trimmul there ; now lie cries, ' Tara ! Tara ! ' all 
 day long, like a sick child, and will not look on me. Thon wilt hate 
 me becanselhave taken thee from thy beautiful lover; but, O Tara, 
 more deeply do I hate thee for taking mine from me. Look, he gave 
 me this gold zone. It is as heavy as thine — heavier. That is all I 
 have left — that is all. He will give thee another, by-and-by ; not 
 now, but when he has done with thee. Enough ! Take her away, 
 Moro Trimmul. I have done thy bidding, and earned the gold. 
 Take her away — far away — ere I repent of this, the worst work of 
 my life, and join her against thee. Gro ! " 
 
 *'Gunga! Gunga! go not," cried Tara, seizing her dress. *' There 
 is pity in thy heart, let it come out to me. O, leave me not to him, 
 by your mother, by your " 
 
 " Come," cried Moro Trimmul fiercely, casting his arm about her. 
 
 *' This is child's play, come ^^J^ Tara, gently, and it were 
 
 better for thee — else I will strike thee," he said, under his breath, 
 but with a terrible distinctness, as she struggled violently, shrieking 
 as she did so. " Gunga ! the shawl. Quick, girl — lest she be heard 
 without. Quick! Bar the outer door." 
 
 It was too late. Several persons, among whom was an elderly 
 Brahmun of sedate and respectable appearance, attended by armed 
 retainers, came up the steps hurriedly and entered the room. Be- 
 tween the noise of Tara's shrieks and his own exertions, Moro 
 Trimmul had not heard them, and with Ganga's aid had forced 
 Tara to the ground, and was endeavouring to tie the shawl about 
 her head, which she was resisting with all her might ; but Gunga 
 had succeeded in catching her hands, and Tara was much exhausted. 
 Another instant, and she would have been helplessly in their power ; 
 but at this moment Gunga saw the curtain pushed aside, and one of 
 the men enter with his sword drawn ; and, loosing Tara, she upset 
 the cruise burning in the niche, and fled into an inner portion of the 
 dark apartment. 
 
 "Who art thou?" cried the man, darting forward and seizing 
 Moro Trimmul's arm ; " what murder is this thou art doing ? " 
 
 He had had no time to escape, or even to rise from his kneeling 
 posture to shake off the soldier's grip, and two others also caught 
 him at the same moment ; while the elderly man, calling earnestly 
 for a light, raised up Tara, and disengaged her from the shawl which 
 had been thrown about her. " Art thou wounded ? " he said. 
 
 " By the Holy Mother," cried one of the men with whom Moro 
 Trimmul was struggling violently, "be quiet, else I will drive my 
 knife into thee. Bind him, brothers, he may be armed. Quick ! " 
 
 At this moment a man bearing a lighted torch came into the'court 
 from the street, and ran rapidly up the steps into the room. As the 
 light flashed upon the struggling group of men, the leader of the 
 
A MAERATTA TALE, 395> 
 
 party recognized Moro Trimmul, and bid his retainers release him^ 
 As they did so, Tara, who had partly risen, sank again to the ground, 
 clasping his knees, and crying piteonsly for protection. 
 
 The old Brahmnn understood the situation at a glance. " There- 
 was another woman here, — seize her! " he exclaimed. She was not^ 
 however, to be found. "Peace," he said to Tara, "peace, my 
 daughter ; be comforted, no one shall harm thee. Who art thou ? 
 What has happened ? " 
 
 ''I am the unhappy daughter of Yyas Shastree of Tooljapoor, wha 
 was murdered, and I am an orphan," she cried sobbing. "O, defend 
 me from him ; he would have done me violence and dishonour." 
 
 " Moro Trimmul," said the old man sadly, "how often hast thou 
 been warned, and what new wickedness is this ? — against a Brahmun 
 girl too, and the daughter of the ^lan to whom thy sister was given I 
 0, shame!" 
 
 " She is a Moorlee," he replied sulkily, " and has done dishonour 
 to the Mother by living with Mussulmans in camp. It was from 
 them I have rescued her, and would have taken her to Wye, but she 
 resisted. I have done no evil. Pundit, nor intended any." 
 
 " Is this true, girl ? " asked the Brahmun. 
 
 *' Quite true, Maharaj," answered Tara, sobbing hysterically, and 
 hardly knowing what she said : " only take me hence, and I will tell 
 thee all ; but I am not impure, — I am not defiled, — I have nothing- 
 to be ashamed of. 0, put your hand on my head, and take me to 
 my people in Wye. Save me, else I shall die ; or kill me, rather 
 than let him or the woman come near me. When I am alone with 
 your family I will tell them all." 
 
 " Come," said the man, who was Govind ISTarrayen, the principal 
 envoy of the Bajah Sivaji, and a Brahmun of wealth and high station 
 in the country, best known among the people under the familiar title 
 of Baba Sahib. " I am well known, and I knew and honoured your 
 father, and grieve his death. Come with me, and you shall go on 
 with my people at once to Wye. They leave the camp to avoid the 
 confusion, and will take care of you, and the bearers and palankeen 
 are still in the street. 
 
 "As to you, Moro Trimmul," he continued, turning to him, "I 
 reserve my judgment till I have inquired from this girl of what she 
 complains. I bid you, however, beware. The Maharaja is not what 
 he used to be, and will submit to no profligacy now. I take this girl 
 as my daughter, and she is safe against you. Beware ! " And so- 
 saying, and giving his arm for Tara to lean on, while he partly sup-^ 
 ported her with the other, he led her out, and once more placed her 
 in the litter, which was taken up and carried forward rapidly. 
 
 The Envoy and his escort had also moved with the camp, and he 
 had sent on his family to a stage some miles distant. As he passed 
 
596 TABA : 
 
 tlirongli the street of the village where Tara had been set down, the 
 bearers of her litter, who had remained with it, hearing the stifled 
 scream from within the court, and alarmed by the sudden closing 
 and fastening of the door, had stopped Baba Sahib as he went by, 
 and besought him to see whether Tara was not in danger. He had 
 dismounted, some of his men had burst in the court door, and we 
 know the rest. 
 
 "Again baffled, O witch that thou art! " cried Moro Pundit, fling- 
 ing himself on the ground as Tara passed out, and tearing up the 
 clay of the floor in the agony of his passion: "what sent that 
 meddling fool to aid thee ? If it had been only that proud boy she 
 loves, ah ! I would have slain him and her together. Grunga ! 
 Ounga ! where art thou ? O girl, I burn — I choke ! She too is 
 gone, devil that she is. If thou hadst only helped me sooner I had 
 stopped the screams, and no one could have heard them. Gunga ! 
 
 dost thou hear? By ," and he swore a frightful oath, "come 
 
 hither, or I will come and stab thee : art thou too playing with me ? 
 Beware!" 
 
 The girl advanced from a dark corner trembling, yet without fear ; 
 and as she did so, he raised himself on his arm, and she saw him 
 grasp a knife at his waistband. " Kill me," she said, " if thou wilt; 
 twice I have aided thee, and twice the Mother hath saved her from 
 us. I will have no more of it." 
 
 "No more!" cried the Brahmun, starting to his feet, and seizing 
 her arm he shook her roughly — " no more ! This from thee ? I tell 
 thee we have gone too far to recede. Will that old dotard be quiet? 
 Will he spare my character ? Not he. He has been my enemy from 
 the first, supplanted me in my authority, crossed me in every design, 
 and lastly in this. — Why didst thou bungle with the shawl ? Coward ! 
 witch! devil!" — and he struck her violently on the face with his 
 open hand at each word. " Why didst thou fail me ? Go !" and he 
 flung her away from him, so that she tottered and fell heavily against 
 the wall beyond. " Go ! may " 
 
 Her fall and agony of mind prevented her hearing the frightful 
 curses which followed. Once before, when his sister had come to 
 him, the paroxysm of passion had been like this, but only once, and 
 yet he had not dared to strike her. She was not stunned, but 0, the 
 misery of her mind ! She felt her lips were cut, and her mouth was 
 bleeding. The pain of this, the degradation of having been struck, 
 made the girl desperate. If she had had a dagger she would have 
 stabbed Moro or herself. She could see him very dimly, for the place 
 was dark except the faint light which came in from the drawn 
 curtains. She saw that he was sitting, leaning against one of the 
 wooden pillars of the room, rocking himself to and fro. He had 
 drawn his knife, and a faint gleam of the naked blade was seen now 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 397 
 
 and again as lie moved. Was slie to die, or he ? No matter. In a 
 frame of mind like tiers death has no terror. It is only the, return 
 to conscionsness which brings fear with it, and she lay crouching on 
 the ground, but watching him intently. If he moved towards her, 
 she knew she must die ; but he did not move, and suddenly the 
 rocking ceased, he seemed to fall heavily to one side, and lay there 
 motionless. 
 
 Was he feigning, in order to get her into his power ? No, it did 
 not seem so, for he lay still, breathing heavily. She had heard that 
 thick heavy breathing once before, and now recognized it again. 
 Still she was cautious. She rose gently, and stepping lightly for- 
 ward stood over him, yet near enough to the steps to escape if he 
 moved. The knife had fallen from his hand, and lay beside him. 
 She took it up, and placed it in her own waistband. He was insen- 
 sible ; his turban had partly fallen off, and his face lay towards the 
 light, turned upwards. He could not harm her now, — he was in her 
 
 power The evil spirit within, tugged hard at her heart, and 
 
 she drew the knife. Then the blood from her lip trickled into her 
 mouth, and the wound smarted and urged on her hand. If he had 
 risen and spoken a word to her, she would have killed him"; but as 
 he lay so helpless, the girl's heart once more softened. " It is my 
 death, I know," she said ; "let him kill me ; I cannot kill him, and 
 this faint will pass away. Now she is gone, he may love me again. "^ 
 Poor fool, to think it ! 
 
 Then she watched a few moments, and as she sat down by him 
 raised his head into her lap. The face was cold and clammy ; was- 
 this death ? There was no water, else she would sprinkle some on 
 him, but she fanned him with the end of her garment, and after a 
 while he opened his eyes gently. "Gunga!" he said, stretching out 
 his arms, " where art thou, girl ? come to me." It was the old tone 
 of kindness, almost sad. Poor fond fool, she did not resist it ; and, 
 wiping the blood from her lips, kissed his forehead. 
 
 Meanwhile, Tara, sorely shaken in body and mind, had been put 
 into the litter. She heard the bearers ask the old Brahmun whether 
 they were to take her to Afzool Khan's tents ; and he had opened 
 the door, and said to her kindly that she had better come to her own 
 people, and that his wiie and sister, who knew them, would take 
 charge of her, and be kind to her ; that they were at a village some 
 miles further on, and he himself would escort her there. 
 
 She was helpless to object : in the first place, she dare not prefer 
 the Mussulman noble's house, as strangers to her faith and to her 
 own people ; nor dare she resist a Brahmun of the Envoy's powerful 
 position in whatever he chose to do. She had no alternative, indeed, 
 for he shut the door ere she could reply, the bearers took her forward 
 at a rapid pace, and the night was somewhat advanced, ere she was 
 
198 TAB A : 
 
 again set down at tlie door of a respectable house in a village, and 
 several women-servants, sacli as are menials in Bralimnn families, 
 kindly assisted lier to alight, bringing what there was in the palan- 
 keen after her. 
 
 CHAPTER LXYIII. 
 
 It was a house something like their own at Tooljapoor. There was 
 the master's seat, with its flowers and holy text painted on it ; the 
 verandah open to the court; the thick curtains between the pillars 
 let down to exclude the night air, which was chill. The room was 
 neat and scrupulously clean. She was once more in a Brahmun's 
 house. 
 
 Before Tara sat two women, both elderly. One a stout and 
 matronly figure, with a grave but kind countenance, and grey hair 
 neatly braided, with heavy gold rings round her neck, wrists, and 
 ankles, plainly but richly dressed, indicating rank and wealth ; the 
 other evidently a widow, clad in coarse white serge, her head clean 
 shaved, and her wrists, ankles, and neck without any ornaments. 
 She had strong coarse features, much wrinkled, small piercing eyes 
 deep set in her head, and her skin was flaccid and shrivelled. She 
 was the elder sister of the Envoy, and lived with him a life of austere 
 penance and privation, and, as a Hindu widow, was a pattern of 
 scrupulous attention to the rules of her faith. Neither rose to 
 meet her. 
 
 Tara advanced and touched their feet in token of reverential sub- 
 mission and salutation. By the lady, whose evident rank had 
 attracted Tara first, the action was received at least without repug- 
 nance, and perhaps with interest ; but by the other with marked 
 aversion — she drew back her feet as though to prevent pollution, 
 and shrank aside, evidently to avoid contact. 
 
 " Thou art welcome, daughter of Yyas Shastree," said the one : 
 *^ peace be with thee." 
 
 ** And that gilded thing is called a widow and a Moorlee ! " cried 
 the other, with a scornful glance at Tara. " O sister, admit her not ! 
 Why has she any hair ? Why is she more like a bride than a widow ? 
 — a harlot rather than a virtuous woman ? " 
 
 "I am a widow and an orphan," returned Tara meekly, sinking- 
 down and trembling violently, as she addressed the first speaker. 
 *' I have been saved from dishonour, lady. O be kind to me ! I 
 have no one on earth to protect me now. They are all gone — all — 
 and may God help me ! " 
 
 " Your mother was one of the Durpeys of Wye, was she not ? " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 399 
 
 asked the Envoy's wife, whose name was Amba Bye. " Do tliey 
 know of thee ? " 
 
 " I do not know, lady," returned Tara ; "they have never been to 
 ns, nor we to them ; but my mother was a Durpey, and used to speak 
 of them." 
 
 " Her father lately married that wild sister of Moro Trimmul's, 
 and Sukya Bye is sure to know her,'* said the widow. 
 
 " O, not to her ! — not to her ! " cried Tara passionately — " do not 
 give me to her ? I beseech you by your honour, by your children, 
 lady, by all you love on earth, not to give me to her. Do with me 
 us ye will yourselves, ye are matrons, but " 
 
 " And why not, girl ? " asked the widow, interrupting her. 
 
 " Peace! Pudma Bye," said her brother, now entering, and seeing 
 that his sister's question had caused pain, "the girl hath had a sore 
 trial ; listen to her, ere thou art hard on her. Speak, daughter, let 
 us know from thine own lips how and why thou wast suffering 
 violence from Moro Trimmul." 
 
 " From Moro Trimmul ! " exclaimed both ladies in a breath. 
 
 " Yes, from him did I rescue her, sister, else she had fared badly, 
 I fear," returned the Envoy. " A violent and wicked man, — who 
 must be brought before the council, to prevent further scandal. But 
 speak, daughter, — thy name? " 
 
 " Tara." 
 
 "Tara: well, fear not. Amba Bye is strict, but kind. Speak 
 truly, we listen." 
 
 And Tara told her little story : how she had become a priestess 
 when the goddess called her ; what she knew of holy books ; how 
 she had been carried off from the temple by Moro Trimmul, and 
 how he had persecuted her before. How she was taken by Fazil 
 Khan, and had been saved by him from the King's harem at 
 Beejapoor. Finally, how they had treated her with honour and 
 respect, and were taking her to her only refuge at Wye. 
 
 Ah, it was a sad story now : a glimpse of a heaven of delight now 
 shut out from her for ever ! She saw the stony eyes of the grim 
 old widow wandering over her, from her glossy braided hair and 
 the garland of jessamine flowers which Zyna had put into it just 
 before they left camp, to the gold ornaments about her neck which 
 Zyna would have her wear ; and, above all, to the silken saree, and 
 the golden anklets which Fazil liked, because the tiny bells to them 
 clashed so musically as she walked. Over and over again, as she 
 told her simple story, and was believed by the Baba Sahib and his 
 wife, did his sister evince decided unbelief and scorn. But at the 
 last her brother rebuked her. 
 
 " I rescued her myself from violence," he said, "and what she tells 
 me confirms her whole story. Peace, Pudma ! one so helpless and 
 so beautiful should have thy pity, not thy scorn." 
 
400 TABA 
 
 '' Let lier have lier liead shaved, and be such as I am ; let her live 
 \N^th me, and bathe in cold vfater before dawn ; let her say the name 
 of Grod on her beads a thousand times an hour during the night ; let 
 her do menial service," cried the widow rapidly ; " and then, if she 
 can do these things, brother, she is a Brahmun widow, and true ; 
 else cast her out to the Mussulmans with whom she lived. Art thou 
 ready to do all this, girl ? " she continued, stretching out her long 
 skinny flaccid arm, which was naked to the shoulder, and showed 
 that the serge about her was her only garment. 
 
 Tara's spirit sank within her. Yes, such as the being before her 
 were Hindu widows — such they would claim her to be. " It were 
 better if I were dead," she groaned — "better if I were dead." 
 
 "Better if thou wast dead!" echoed the widow. "Ay, much 
 better. Such as thou art, were better dead than live, in a harlot's 
 guise, to be a disgrace to the faith ! " 
 
 "I^ay, peace, sister," said her brother — "I will have none of this. 
 While she is with us, she is our guest and daughter, and shall be 
 cared for tenderly. Take her away, Amba, and let her rest. I will 
 see Af zool Khan at the Durbar to-morrow, and inquire if what she 
 says be true ; but my heart, already tells me it is so." 
 
 Amba Bye rose and said a few soothing words to Tara as she stood 
 over her and raised her up. " Come," she said, " I will not harm 
 thee — come." And Tara rose and followed her to an inner room. 
 The old lady had perhaps been afraid of her sister-in-law, or she was 
 softened by Tara's beauty and grief, for, as she closed the door, she 
 sat down and took her to her heart, laying her head on her bosom. 
 *' Thou art a gentle lamb," she said, stroking her head. " Grod help 
 thee, child," and Tara clung to the kind heart, and felt, as it were, 
 loving arms once more closed around her. 
 
 That night she slept with Amba Bye. Her sleep was at first 
 broken, and full of fearful dreams ; but wearied nature and youth 
 in the end obtained their mastery over her, and she sank into a 
 deep slumber, — so deep, that the sun was high in the morning ere 
 she awoke. 
 
 It had been a weary time to Zyna, Lurlee, and the Khan's house- 
 hold, and even the Khan and the priest sat up far into the night, 
 speaking of Tara. No one had slept. As to Fazil, he, with Shere 
 Khan, Lukshmun, and a body of horse, rode round the country for 
 miles, all through the night, seeking Tara. N"o one dared speak to 
 him, and the men had never seen him so excited before. He and 
 Lukshmun, whose activity even surpassed his own, had stopped 
 every palankeen ; every cart or carriage which was covered ; every 
 veiled female they could see. Villages had been searched also, but no 
 trace of Tara was found — none ; and Fazil returned home dejected 
 and worn out, only, however, to change his horse and the men, and to 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 401 
 
 start once more with Lukshmun, wlio would not leave him, on an 
 errand equally fruitless. That day (Fazil was still absent) Baba 
 Sahib sought Af zool Khan after the afternoon Durbar, and told him 
 what had happened : how he had rescued Tara, how he had sent 
 her on to Wye with his wife and sister, and how she would be safe 
 in his hands ; and he heard in return how she was respected and 
 loved in the Khan's family. 
 
 "We cannot allow her, Khan," he said kindly, "to remain with 
 you, much as you have respected her faith. It would be a scandal to 
 Brahmuns, if the daughter of Vyas Shastree were the guest even of 
 Af zool Khan and his household. It is not compatible with her purity 
 or her honour, which, now her father is dead, her people must pro- 
 tect. We — that is, my wife and myself — have charged ourselves 
 with her for the present ; and her people, the Durpeys of Wye, are 
 rich and devout, — they will receive and protect her." 
 
 Afzool Khan remonstrated as far as possible. Tara had grown to 
 be a familiar and beautiful object to him ; but he felt the Brahmun 
 was right, and he must not connect her name with his son's. He 
 dare not mention to Lurlee what had been done, but he told Fazil, 
 when he returned, and so all knew of it. 
 
 "At least she is safe and in honourable keeping," said Fazil, when 
 he had heard all, " and for the rest, as God wills. But as for that 
 Brahmun, father, he escaped me once — it may not be again." 
 
 " Look ! " cried Lurlee to Zyna, who was sitting sobbing bitterly — 
 '* look ! Had I only been careful, this would never have happened. 
 It was Sunday night, and Saturn ruled from the second hour of the 
 first watch to the end. Could anything be worse ? We should not 
 have moved at all. My pearl, my love, she should not have left us ! 
 Hai ! Hai ! May the peace of the Prophet be with her, and the pro- 
 tection of Alia be upon her till we meet again ! " 
 
 " Ameen ! Ameen! " sighed Zyna, but she was not comforted, nor 
 was Fazil. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 Magnificent as is the scenery of the Western Ghauts of India 
 throughout their range, it is nowhere, perhaps, more strikingly 
 beautiful than in the neighbourhood of the great isolated plateau 
 which — rising high above the mountain-ranges around it, and known 
 under the name of Maha-bul-eshwur, from the temple at the source 
 of the sacred river Krishna on its summit — is now the favourite 
 summer retreat and sanatorium of the Bombay Presidency. Trim 
 roads, laid out so as to exhibit the beauties of the scenery to the 
 
 2 D 
 
402 TABA 
 
 best advantage — pretty English-looking cottages, with brilliant 
 gardens, and a considerable native town, are now the main features 
 of the place ; but at the period of our tale it was uninhabited, except 
 by a few Brahmuns and devotees, who, attracted by the holiness 
 of the spot, congregated around the ancient temple, and occupied 
 the small village beside it. Otherwise the character of the wild 
 scenery is unchanged. From points near the edges of the plateau, 
 where mighty precipices of basalt descend sheer into forests of ever- 
 lasting verdure and luxuriance, the eye ranges over a sea of rugged 
 mountain-tops, — some, scathed and shattered peaks of barren rock 
 — others with extensive flat summits, bounded by naked cliffs which, 
 falling into deep gloomy ravines covered with dense forests, would 
 seem inaccessible to man. 
 
 To some readers of our tale, this scenery will be familiar ; but to 
 others it is almost impossible to convey by description any adequate 
 idea of its peculiar character, or of the beauty of the ever-changing 
 aerial effects, that vary in aspect almost as the spectator turns from 
 one point to another. Often in early morning, as the sun rises over 
 the lower mists, the naked peaks and precipices, standing apart like 
 islands, glisten with rosy tints, while the mist itself, as yet dense 
 and undisturbed, lies wrapped around their bases, filling every 
 ravine and valley, and glittering like a sea of molten silver. 
 
 Again, as the morning breeze rises in the valleys below, this 
 vapour breaks up slowly : circling round the mountain summits, 
 lingering in wreaths among their glens and precipices, and clinging 
 to the forests, until dissipated entirely by the fierce beams of the 
 Bun. Then, quivering under the fervid heat, long ridges of rugged 
 valleys are spread out below, and range beyond range melts tenderly 
 
 I into a dim distance of sea and sky, scarcely separated in colour, yet 
 showing the occasional sparkle of a sail like a faint cloud passing on 
 
 [the horizon. Most glorious of all, perhaps, in the evening, when, in 
 the rich colours of the fast-rising vapours, the mountains glow like 
 fire; and peak and precipice, forest and glen, are bathed in gold 
 and crimson light ; or, as the light grows dimmer, shrouded in deep 
 purple shadow till they disappear in the gloom which quickly falls 
 on all. 
 
 Westward from this great mountain plateau, and divided from it 
 by a broad deep valley clothed with forests, the huge mountain of 
 Pertabgurh rises with precipitous sides out of the woods and ravines 
 below. The top, irregularly level, furnished space for dwelling- 
 houses and magazines, while ample springs of pure water sufficed 
 for the use of a large body of men, by which it could be easily de- 
 fended. At various periods of time — by the early Mahratta chieftains 
 of the country in remote ages, and afterwards by their Mussulman 
 conquerors — ^walls and towers had been added to the natural defences 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, .403 
 
 of tlie place, as well as strong gateways, protected by bastions and 
 loopholed traverses, on the only approach to the summit — a rugged 
 pathway, which could hardly be called a road. Under very ordinary 
 defence, the place was perfectly impregnable to all attacks by an 
 enemy from without ; and, at the period of our tale, it was held as 
 his capital and choicest stronghold, among many such fastnesses in 
 those mountains, by Sivaji Bhoslay, a man destined to play a con- 
 spicuous part in the history of his country and people in particular, 
 and of India at large. 
 
 We have already informed the reader, in a somewhat desultory 
 manner perhaps, for we are not writing his history, of the attempts 
 made by Sivaji to establish an independent power ; and, by taking 
 advantage of the weakness and distraction of the kingdom of Bee- 
 japoor, of which he was a vassal, on the one hand, and of the am- 
 bitious designs of the Emperor Aurungzeeb on the other, to raise 
 himself to a position in which he could secure the actual administra- 
 tion, and eventually the sovereignty, of his native wilds. 
 
 Hindu history is in all cases unsatisfactory ; and that of the -early 
 Mahratta chiefs and principalities of the Dekhan eminently so. On 
 the invasion of the Dekhan by Alia- oo -de en, nephew of the then 
 King of Delhi, in A.D. 1294, the fort and city of Deogurh, now 
 Doulatabad, was held by Rajah Bamdeo Jadow, who appeared then 
 to have been prince of the whole country. Whether he was so or 
 not, whether the chiefs of the wild tracts of the Grhauts and pro- 
 vinces lying on the western sea-coast were his tributaries or vassals, 
 or whether they were actually independent of each other, has never 
 been ascertained; but, on the downfall of the princely house of 
 Jadow, no other ruler or chieftain seems to have made any resistance, 
 and the Mahomedans, gathering strength, and founding a kingdom 
 at Gulburgah, in the centre of the Dekhan, gradually subdued the 
 whole tract, establishing garrisons in the ^vildest parts, fortifying 
 hills not already used as strongholds, and improving the defences of 
 others, in that noble and picturesque style of fortification which 
 now excites our wonder and admiration. 
 
 One of the Mahratta families of ancient native nobility, though 
 not of the highest grade, were the Bh<5slays. The Jadows, though 
 no longer possessing princely power, had descended into the rank of 
 landed proprietors, or hereditary officers, under the ancient Hindu 
 tenure, of the districts over which their ancestors had once held 
 sway. Under ordinary circumstances, an alliance between the 
 families would have been rejected by the Jadows ; but one fell out 
 nevertheless, and after a strange manner. 
 
 At the marriage of a mutual friend, Shahji Bhoslay, then a pretty 
 boy, was present with his father, and the head of the family of the 
 Jadows with his daughter, Jeejee, a child younger than the boj 
 
404 TABA : 
 
 Shaliji. The children began to play together, and the girl's father 
 remarked jocosely what a pretty couple they would make. The 
 remark was heard by the boy's father, who claimed it as a promise 
 of betrothal, and, after some discnssion, and objection as to disparity 
 of rank, the children were eventnally married. From these parents 
 sprung Sivaji, who, with his mother, as remarkable a person in 
 many respects as himself, became the originators and leaders of the 
 renewed independence of the Hindus of the Dekhan. 
 
 The women of India, particularly those of the higher classes and 
 families, are invariably the treasuries of family events, and of deeds 
 of departed or existent greatness. Jeejee Bye, an ambitous, perhaps 
 unscrupulous woman, strove hard to excite her husband, Shahji 
 Bhoslay, to exertion in the Hindu cause. She filled his mind with 
 legends of the Jadows' power ; she sought out the histories of his 
 own family ; she urged him to assert his right to districts in 
 sovereignty of which he was only the ofiicial head ; and she actively 
 canvassed all the heads of the Mahratta families, with a view to a 
 combined resistance against the Mahomedan powers, then beginning 
 to show symptoms of a final decadence. 
 
 And not without effect. Shahji, the servant and vassal of the 
 Emperor of Delhi as of the King of Beejapoor, rebelled in turn 
 against both ; was restless and unfaithful, lacking, while a bold, 
 enterprising partisan soldier, the higher qualities which could direct 
 and take advantage of such movements. He was frequently im- 
 prisoned, fined, and otherwise punished, but nothing checked his 
 wife's ambition. Left to herself during his long absences and cap- 
 tivities with her young son among their native wilds, surrounded by 
 rude retainers, she turned to him as soon as he could comprehend 
 her plans ; and by the mother and son those designs were sketched 
 out which, in respect of utter hopelessness at first, and splendid 
 success afterwards, have few comparisons in the world's history. 
 
 As the boy grew up, his immediate retainers joined him in wild 
 enterprises against the Mahomedan^, which to the people savoured 
 of madness, but which, as they increased in boldness of design and 
 execution, were believed to be the deeds of one especially protected 
 by the Goddess Bhowani, the tutelar divinity of the Jadow family. 
 His mother, an ardent votary, pretended to be occasionally visited 
 by the goddess in person, and, filled with her divine afilatus, spoke 
 prophecy. Her son believed in her inspiration : and gradually his 
 friends, Maloosray, Palkur, and others, with a superstitious faith, 
 believed also. Undisciplined, often unarmed men of the Mawuls, 
 or mountain valleys above the Ghauts, who were called Mawullees, 
 and of those below the mountains towards the sea, called Hetkurees, 
 joined the young leader : scaled mountain forts, or descended into 
 the plains beyond the valleys, gathering arms and booty, occupying 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 405 
 
 Moslem garrisons, putting their defenders to the sword, and never 
 relinquishing what they had obtained. 
 
 So year after year passed, and the young Sivaji, as he grew 
 stronger, became more daring and enterprising. Originally a few 
 hundreds of half-naked, ill-armed mountain peasants, his forces of 
 MawuUees and Hetkurees at last numbered many thousands of active, 
 determined men. He had possession of some of the strongest 
 mountain forts in the Western Ghauts ; he had built, and was build- 
 ing, defences to other isolated and naturally almost inaccessible 
 m.ountains. He was arming them with cannon purchased by stealth 
 from the Portuguese of Goa, or cast by his own skilful artificers ; 
 and as he gained more perfect local strength, he was silently extend- 
 ing his intrigues to all the Mahratta families of ancient Maharastra 
 by agents like Moro Trimmul, and awaiting the time patiently, till 
 all could rise to overthrow the Mussulman governments which held 
 them in subjection. 
 
 Had those governments, after the spirit of the earlier Mussulman 
 invaders of the Dekhan, been intolerant of Hindus, denied them 
 privileges of worship, defiled their temples, confiscated their ancestral 
 rights, or otherwise harassed and oppressed them, — it is probable 
 that Shahji's first attempts towards throwing off the Mahomedan 
 yoke would have met with better success. But, on the contrary, 
 there was now little or no oppression or interference with them in 
 any way ; and many of the Mahratta chieftains not only held estates 
 in fief for service, but joined the armies of the Mahomedan kings, 
 and fought with them bravely and faithfully. We have ourselves a 
 counterpart of this, in some respects, in the N'orman occupation of 
 our own country ; inasmuch as, while some Saxon thanes then held 
 themselves aloof, and retired to the management of their own estates, 
 others were found who joined the invaders, or, gradually imitatiag 
 their manners, became incorporated with them. 
 
 That Sivaji's prospects had assumed a more encouraging form 
 than any of his father's, may easily be imagined from the method in 
 Avhich they had been maintained. The Diissera, or festival of 
 Bhowani, throughout Maharastra, of 1657, the year of which we 
 write, was to show, by a private muster of the people, what forces 
 were available for a general rising; and after that it would be 
 determined how they were to be employed. 
 
 We know what the object of Maloosray's mission to Beejapoor 
 had been, and its result. Sivaji had heard already by express from 
 the capital, of the death of the Wuzeer, the discovery of some of his 
 own correspondence by the King, and the acceptance of the gage 
 by Af zool Khan to undertake a campaign against him with a picked 
 army. He had not heard since, nor had Maloosray arrived; but 
 Sivaji knew that Afzool Khan was no laggard in war, and that he 
 must prepare himself to meet the emergency. 
 
406 TABA 
 
 A fascination for sacred plays wLicli liad possessed Mm from 
 childhood, was a strange peculiarity of this man's character. As 
 Sivaji grew up, no distance, no personal danger, deterred him from 
 being present at any which could by any possibility be reached. 
 Sometimes openly, and more frequently in a peasant's or common 
 soldier's garb, the young prince, with a few chosen associates, would 
 appear at places where his arrival was incomprehensible, and his 
 disappearance equally abrupt and mysterious. In the latter days, 
 these "Kuthas," as they are termed, became means of assembling 
 his men without attracting suspicion ; but his adherents well kne^v 
 that the most exciting enterprises immediately followed them. 
 
 Soon after the arrival of the news from Beejapoor, notice of one 
 to be held at Pertabgurh had been sent through the country, and 
 from the earnestness and celerity with which the orders were cir- 
 culated from village to village, the people at large were assured of 
 the proximity of some notable event, and hoped, in their own ex- 
 pressive phrase, that, at last, the "fire would light the hills." 
 
 With this partial digression, and introduction to the Rajah's play, 
 the day of which had arrived, our history will proceed. 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 From a straggling, irregular village, which could hardly be called a 
 town, nestling in a hollow under the mountain of Pertabgurh, a rude 
 pathway, for it was little else, ascended to the fort above. Very 
 rough, but very lovely, was this road. The forest, or jungle, had 
 been partly cleared away from its sides, but noble trees still hung 
 over it, affording grateful shade as it wound round ravines and 
 shoulders of the mountain in gradual but easy ascent ; and the huge 
 broad leaf of the teak tree, the graceful and feathery bamboo, and 
 other masses of luxuriant foliage, rich with great creepers now 
 covered with flowers, which hung from tree to tree in graceful 
 festoons, or clung in dense masses about their tops, — presented end- 
 less and beautiful combinations with the bold upper precipices of the 
 mountain itself, and the distant ranges behind it. Farther up, as 
 the air grew fresher in the ascent, and you looked down into deep 
 gloomy dells, or abroad over the valley, or up to the rugged sides of 
 the great moimtain beyond, — a subtle blue atmosphere appeared to 
 pervade everything ; and this, the peculiar characteristic of those 
 high tropical regions, seemed to increase in depth of colour, — and, 
 without in reality obscuring the features of the scenery, to soften its 
 rugged outlines, and blend its almost savage elements into harmony. 
 / It has been said of natl\'es of India that they are insensible to 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 
 
 beauties of natural scenery. We admit tliat Mussulmans to a great! 
 extent are so, but not Hindus, still less Mabrattas, of tbese glorious! 
 mountains. Tbeir sacred books, tbeir ballads, and recited plays, 
 abound with beautiful pictures of natural objects; and, living among 
 combinations of the most glorious forms in nature, peopling every 
 remarkable rock, deep dell, or giant tree with spiritual beings 
 belonging peculiarly to each, who are worshipped with a rude vene- 
 ration, — insensibility to outward impressions and their influence 
 upon character would be impossible. 
 
 So now, at the time we speak of, a numerous company of men on 
 foot were ascending by the pathway already mentioned to the fort, 
 and that light merriment prevailed among them which ever accom- 
 panies the enjoyment of fine scenery and pure mountain air, and 
 excites physical capability for the endurance of the heaviest fatigue. 
 Some ran or leaped, as occasional level portions of road occurred ; 
 others climbed among the crags and rocks by its side, or, knowing 
 shorter paths to the summit, struck out of the main road, and 
 breasted the steep mountain with a freedom and agility only known 
 to mountaineers. 
 
 Keen- eyed, lithe, spare, yet muscular men ; low in stature, yet of 
 extraordinary power of endurance ; often heavily armed with long 
 matchlock, and its accompaniment of powder-horns, bullet-bags, and 
 other accoutrements tied round the waist, — a long, straight, heavy 
 two-handled sword hanging over the left shoulder, or a smaller 
 curved sabre fastened into the waistband, with a dagger or two, and 
 a broad shield at the back — such were Sivaji's Mawullees. Ordi- 
 narily unburdened with much clothing — a pair of drawers fitting 
 tight below the knee, a coarse handkerchief wound about the 
 head, and a black blanket thrown over all, or crossed over the chest, 
 leaving the arms free, sufficed for ordinary purposes; on festival 
 days, however, all were clad in a clean suit of coarse cotton cloth, 
 with a gay turban, and scarf round the waist, and bunches of wild 
 flowers tucked fantastically into the folds of their head-dress. 
 
 This was a festival day — for their Rajah had ordered a Kutha; 
 and all knew when this took place that it was the prelude to some 
 raid or foray — some distant expedition in which honour and booty 
 were to be gained — and when the Mawullees would strike in, hard 
 and fierce, on the unsuspecting Moslems. The "Dhunni," or master, 
 as they called him, had been unaccountably quiet for some time past ; 
 but to a man they knew he was not idle, and throughout that 
 country, as in more remote provinces, the conviction prevailed that 
 something unusual was to happen — some manifestation of the will 
 of the goddess, whom all feared and most worshipped. There was 
 nothing apparent or tangible ; but expectation and excitement 
 prevailed nevertheless. 
 
408 TARA 
 
 For several days previously, the usnal messengers had run from 
 village to village among the Mawuls or valleys of the ranges near 
 Pertabgurh, giving news of the Kutha. The players had come from 
 Wye, from Sattara, and other towns, and the Rajah's hill-men had 
 been clearing the usual place of celebration, and were now decorating 
 the royal seat, and stage for the players, with green boughs and 
 wild flowers. The little town was already full of people, and others 
 were crowding up the mountain to make their salutation to their 
 beloved prince who, now seated in his hall of audience, surrounded 
 by a few friends, soldiers, and priests, denied no one the privilege so 
 dearly prized, that of making a " salam" to their Rajah, and receiving 
 one in return. 
 
 Up the mountain-side, through the grim gateways, till they 
 emerged upon the irregular plateau at the top, the men poured in a 
 continuous stream. Some singly or in small groups ; others in larger 
 companies headed by a pair of "gursees," or pipers, one playing a 
 drone, the other a reed flageolet, very strong and shrill in tone, the 
 combination of which, as well as the wild melodies played, being 
 curiously like bagpipes in e:ffiect. Others had with them their village 
 trumpeters ; and shrill quivering blasts of their horns, accompanied 
 by the deep monotonous notes of large tambourine drums, not un- 
 f requently arose together or singly from different parts of the ascent, 
 and were answered by the Rajah's horn-blowers stationed on the 
 bastions above the gates, and elsewhere in the towers above the 
 precipices. The fort was full of men, for several thousands were 
 assembled in it : sitting in groups, rambling about the walls, or by 
 the side of springs and wells, untying the bundles of cakes which 
 each man had bound to his back, and making a noonday meal ; or 
 proceeding to their chieftain's kitchen, received the daily allowance 
 of meal bread, which was served out without stint to all comers on 
 those occasions, and of which huge piles stood on the kitchen floor 
 ready for distribution. 
 
 All the morning Sivaji had sat in his humble hall of audience, 
 surrounded by some of his tried friends, and some Brahmun priests 
 and scribes. No gorgeous palace was this, like that at Beejapoor, but 
 a broad shed made by poles fastened together, and thatched with 
 grass and teak-leaves, decorated gracefully and appropriately with 
 leafy branches and wild flowers. At the upper end was the Rajah's 
 seat, a low dais covered with coarse cotton carpets, on which the 
 "gnddee" or royal seat — a velvet pillow covered with gold em- 
 broidery, and a seat to match — had been placed temporarily. Below 
 the dais, the leaders of large and small parties of men came — saluted 
 — seated themselves by turns, and got up and departed with the 
 usual salutation, but seldom without notice ; and while other men 
 passed quickly by, the chief had a kind word of greeting or reminis- 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 409 
 
 €ence or salute for every one. Many saw that his features were 
 •clouded with care ; but the news from the capital concerned no one, 
 and the Kutha to come off that night would, they knew, prove the 
 usual prelude of active service. 
 
 Seated as he was amidst a crowed of friends and attendants, the 
 Mahratta Rajah seemed, in the distance, almost contemptible, from 
 his smali stature and plain, insignificant appearance. Dressed in 
 ordinary white muslin, the only ornament he wore was the " jika," 
 or jewel for the turban, which sparkled with valuable diamonds. A 
 light red shawl drawn over his shoulders protected him from the 
 somewhat chill wind, and before him lay his terrible sword Bhowani, 
 and the large black shield of rhinoceros hide which he usually wore. 
 A nearer view, however, gave a dilferent impression. Somewhat 
 dark in complexion, with a prominent nose, broad in the nostril ; 
 large, soft eyes, small determined mouth and chin ; a thin moustache 
 curled up at the ends, and bushy black whiskers shaved on a line 
 with his ear, — formed a countenance at once handsome and intelli- 
 gent : while his slight figure, apparently more active than strong, 
 evinced, by its lithe movement even while sitting, Ta power of en- 
 durance which was confirmed by the expression of his face. 
 
 No one who had once seen the Maharaja ever forgot him. Though 
 now mild in expression, if not sad, most about him had seen and 
 remembered the face in other and wilder moods of excitement : in 
 war, or in the actual hand-to-hand combats, in which he delighted, 
 and from which he could with difficulty be restrained ; while the 
 impression that he was an incarnation of divinity, mingled awe with 
 the respect and love which all bore him. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI. 
 
 The morning ceremony was at length over, and, somewhat wearied 
 by it, and by sitting inactive so long, Siviji rose and passed into 
 his private apartments, to which the shed or pavilion was a tem- 
 porary addition. The rough mountain fortress afforded no royal 
 palaces. A few terraced houses, divided by courts, with some 
 thatched out- offices and stables, stood on an elevated spot near the 
 walls ; and the Rajah's favourite retreat was a small vaulted apart- 
 ment, which joined the fort- wall — indeed, formed portion of it — and 
 from which a small projecting window, placed immediately above 
 one of the deepest precipices, looked out over the valley and moun- 
 tains, and commanded a view of part of the ascent. 
 
 It was a habit of Sivaji's to go to no ceremony, nor return from 
 any, without saluting his mother. Did he ever leave the house or 
 
410 TABA : 
 
 return to it, lie toiiclied Iter feet reverently, while slie gave him her 
 blessing. The son's faith in his mother was only equalled by her 
 faith and love for him ; and as a pattern of filial piety and devotion, 
 his example is still incnlculated upon the Mahratta youth by many 
 a village schoolmaster. 
 
 She met him at the threshold of the door, and, as was her wont, 
 passed her hands over his face and neck, kissing the tips of her 
 fingers ; w4iile, bowing low, he touched both her feet, then his own 
 eyes and forehead. 
 
 ** Is Tannajee arrived, son," she asked, " that thou hast broken up 
 the reception so early ? " 
 
 " No, mother," he said ; "but come with me, for my spirit is heavy, 
 and there is a shadow of gloom over me which thou only canst 
 dispel. No, there is no news, and that vexes me." 
 
 She followed him into the apartment we have mentioned. A plain 
 cushion had been placed near the window upon a soft mattress, and 
 he flung, rather than seated himself, upon it, and buried his face in 
 his hands, turning away from her. 
 
 She sat down by him, and again passed her hand over his face 
 and neck, and kissed her fingers without speaking. 
 
 A mother's loving hand ! O ye who know it, who possess it as 
 the rude waves of life come breaking one by one against you, be 
 thankful that it is there in its old place, soothing and sustaining 
 like nought else of earthly comfort! Ye who have lost it, never 
 forget how lovingly it used to do its blessed work. In times of 
 anxious trial, perplexity, and sickness most of all, — ye shall feel it 
 still, in. the faith which leads ye where it is gone before, and awaits 
 your coming. So, forget it not ! — forget it not ! 
 
 For a while both were silent. The mother knew the feelings which 
 filled her son's mind too well to interfere with their course. Still 
 she sat by him, and patted him occasionally as she.used to do when 
 she soothed him to rest as a child. " If he could sleep," she thought, 
 " this gloom would pass away ; but it will do so nevertheless." 
 
 He lay still, sometimes looking out into the blue air, watching the 
 swallows as they passed and repassed the window in rapid flight to 
 and from their nests, which hung to the ledges of the precipices — 
 or the groups of people ascending and descending the pathway to 
 the gates. Again, burying his face in the cushion, he lay still, and 
 his mother watched, and gently waved the corner of her garment 
 over his head, lest any insect should light on him and disturb him. 
 There was no sound save the dull buzzing of flies in the room, and 
 sometimes the loud monotonous note of a great woodpecker from 
 the depths of the ravine below. 
 
 He turned at length, and she knew the crisis was past. "Mother," 
 he said, " hast thou been with the goddess to-day ? To me she is 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 411 
 
 dim and monmfTil ; I ask my heart of her designs, but there comes 
 no answer. Is her fayoiir gone from ns ? " 
 
 " Who can tell her purposes, my life ? " she replied, " we are only 
 her instruments. O, fail not in heart ! If there be troubles, should 
 we not meet them ? If she bid us suffer, shall we not suffer ? But, 
 O, fail not — doubt not ! Remember thy father doubted and failed^ 
 and what came of it but weary imprisonment, fine, pain, shame, 
 and failure ? O, not so, my son : better thou wast dead, and I with 
 thee, than to doubt and fail." 
 
 " The trial will be hea^y, mother," he returned. " Here we are safe, 
 and I fear not for thee : but for the rest, the cause is hopeless, and 
 that is what vexes me. Years of stratagem and arrangement are 
 gone with that man's death, and all we have planned is known." 
 
 " And if it be known, son, dost thou fear ? " she exclaimed. 
 " What has been gained by these communications with a traitor ? 
 O son, he who is not faithful to the- salt he eats, is untrue to all 
 besides. I — a woman only — and the priests will tell thee not to 
 trust a woman's thoughts or designs — I tell thee I am glad : I rejoice 
 that a trial has come to thee. One hour such as thou hast passed 
 now, with thine own heart to speak to thee, is worth more to the 
 cause than a thousand priests or a lakh of swordsmen. I tell thee I 
 am glad : for such things only can teach thee to trusty thyself, and 
 not to look to others." 
 
 " And thee, mother ? " he said, smiling. 
 
 " No, no — not to me," she replied quickly, " except the goddess 
 speaks by my mouth. No, not to me. I am but a woman else, fear- 
 ful of thee, my son — fearful of the bullet, the sword, the lance, the 
 wild fray of battle — fearful of " 
 
 " Nay, mother," he cried, sitting up and interrupting her, " not 
 of the sword or the battle ; there I am safe, — there I fear not. 
 Were I but there now, this heaviness at my heart would pass away. 
 ' Hur, Hur, Mahadeo ! ' the cry — the shout rings in my ears and 
 urges me on; then there is no time for thought, as now in this 
 silence." 
 
 "And it shall ring again, my son," she replied. " Fear not — 
 doubt not, only act : that is all. Wilt thou be like thy father, 
 drifted here and there by every current of rumour like a straw upon 
 the sea ? ' Such a one will not join, what can I do ? Such a thing- 
 threatens, what can I do ? This man says this, shall I follow it ? 
 That man says the other, shall I follow it ? ' So he followed as others 
 led ; so he acted as others advised. What came of all ? only shame, 
 my son. Had he said to all. Do this, they would have done it. O 
 Mother, O Holy Mother," she cried, standing up and lifting her 
 joined hands towards the deep blue sky, " come from thence — come 
 from the air into thy daughter's heart ; teach me what to say, how 
 
412 TABA : 
 
 to direct him, or direct liim thyself ! Mother, we do all for thy 
 name and honour, and for the faith so long degraded: let us not fail 
 or be shamed ! 
 
 " Not thus, son," she continued after a pause — "not thus will the 
 spirit come upon me, but in the temple must I watch alone and pray 
 and fast, ere she will disclose herself to me ; and I will do so from 
 to-night. Yes, she Avill be entreated at last. Perhaps," she con- 
 tinued simply, but reverently, ^' the Mother is in sorrow herself, and 
 needs comfort. No matter, I will entreat her." 
 
 " Surely she hath heard already," replied her son after another 
 pause, " for my soul is better for thy words — stronger, mother. Yes, 
 I see how it will be ; nor Moro Trimmul, nor Tannajee, nor Palkur, 
 nor any one but myself. I had thought to lay all these matters 
 before the people at the Kutha to-night, but I will not. I will only 
 say we must work for ourselves — against the Emperor, against the 
 Eang, and most against Afzool Khan. If they will only trust in me 
 — ^yes, mother, if they will only trust in me — we shall have victory, 
 and I will not disappoint them or you." 
 
 *' Now, a thousand blessings on thee, Sivaji Bhoslay, for those 
 words," cried his mother, passing her hands over his head. *'I have 
 no fear now — none. Go to the Kutha — tell them all that their time 
 is come ; and when you cry ' Hur, Hur, Mahadeo ! ' each shout of 
 theirs in reply will echo the death-cry of a thousand infidels. Now, 
 let me depart, my son ; it is well for me to go to the Mother, and 
 sit before her ; haply she may come to me. Better to be there, than 
 that a woman should be near thee, when the woman's spirit has 
 passed out of thee." 
 
 "Bless me, then, my mother, and go ; nor will 1 stay here long," 
 he replied. " The shadows are even now lengthening in the valleys, 
 and I should have the people collected ere it is dark." 
 
 She placed her hands upon his head solemnly : " Thus do I bless 
 thee, my son — more fervently, more resignedly than ever. Gro, 
 as she will lead thee in her own time. To all thy people thou wilt 
 not alter, but, to the Moslems, be stone and steel. Trust no one — 
 ask of no one what is to be done, not even of me. Do what is 
 needful, and what thy heart tells thee. Show no mercy, but 
 cut out thine own path with the sword. If thou wilt be great, do 
 
 these things ; if not : but no, thou wilt be great, my son. She 
 
 hath told me so ; and thou wilt reckon the true beginning of it from 
 that silent watch there, by the window. I go now, but stay not 
 thou here. See, there are none ascending, and even those descending 
 the hill are fewer. Go to them." 
 
 He watched her intently as she left him and disappeared behind a 
 curtain, which fell before a door of the apartment leading to the 
 small household temple. An expression of triumph lit up his lai'ge 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 413 
 
 dark eyes and expressive features. " She said I must act for myself,'* 
 lie cried aloud. " Yes, mother, I will act for thee first, and then for 
 the people ; and there shall be no idle words again — only ' Hur, Hur, 
 Mahadeo ! ' when the fire is on the hills." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXII. 
 
 The servants and attendants of the lady awaited her without, and 
 preceded her to the temple, which was situated in a court by itself, 
 — a small unpretending building, which her son had built at her 
 request. The usual priests sat by the shrine, feeding the lamps with 
 oil, and offering flowers and incense for those who needed their 
 services. This, too, had been a busy day for them, for the Rajah's 
 temple had been opened to those who came to the fort ; and many a 
 humble offering and donation of copper coins to the priests, from 
 the soldiery, had been the result. The court had now been cleared 
 of all visitors, and the doors shut. As the lady advanced and sat 
 down before the shrine, the priests made the customary libations and 
 offerings, and stood apart, not. daring to speak, for her visions of the 
 goddess were well known, and much feared, and this might be the 
 occasion of one of them. So, as she sat down, the priests and her 
 attendants shrank back behind the entrance to the sanctum, and 
 awaited the issue in silence. 
 
 Very different from Tara, as she had sunk down in her strange 
 delirium before the shrine at Tooljapoor, the Maha Ranee, as she was 
 called, but more simply and lovingly the "Lady Mother," was per- 
 fectly calm and self-possessed. A small, grey-headed, slightly- 
 formed woman, of graceful carriage and shape, which had altered 
 little, if at all, from the best period of her youth : nor, except in her 
 hair, had age apparently told much upon her : for the arms were still 
 as round, the skin of her cheek as soft and downy as ever, and the firm 
 springy tread of the small naked foot showed no decline of vigour. 
 Her son often told her she was yet the most beautiful woman in 
 Maharastra ; nor indeed, in the clear golden olive of her skin, in the 
 delicate mould and sweet expressive character of her features, above 
 all, in the soft lustre of her eyes, had she many rivals. 
 
 She had seated herself directly before the shrine, on which was a 
 small gold image of the goddess upon a golden pedestal ; and the 
 water- vessels, lamps, and other articles of service were also of gold. 
 The full light of the lamps within shone out on her, and glistened on 
 the white silk garment she wore, with its broad crimson and gold 
 border — upon the jewelled bracelets on her arms — and the large pearls 
 about her neck. The end of her saree, heavy with gold thread, had 
 
414 TABA 
 
 fallen a little aside as site seated herself, and her soft throat, and a 
 little of the crimson silk bodice below, could be seen — enough to 
 show that if the face were calm, the bosom was heaving rapidly, and 
 under the influence of no common emotion. !No one dared to speak 
 to her, or interrupt her thoughts or prayers, whatever they might 
 be ; and when she seated herself before the shrine in this manner, 
 the priests and attendants knew she expected a " revelation," and 
 had to wait, even though it might be for many hours, for the issue. 
 
 When it came, it was with various effect. At times calm, with 
 glistening eyes and throbbing bosom, her hands clenched con- 
 vulsively, she would speak strange words, which were heard with a 
 mysterious reverence, and recorded by an attendant priest ; at others, 
 the result was wild delirium, when they were obliged to hold her, 
 and when the excitement was followed by exhaustion, which re- 
 mained for days.^ Now, however, she sat calmly, her eyes cast 
 down, but raised occasionally with an imploring look to the image, 
 seldom altering her position, and seemingly unconscious of the time 
 which passed. 
 
 Long she sat there ; the shadows of the mountains lengthened, 
 till only their peaks shone like fire, and then suddenly died out. 
 The moon rose, and the little court was white under her silver beams, 
 and still the lady sat and moved not. The chill night breeze at that 
 elevation had caused an involuntary shiver to pass over her, which 
 her favourite attendant thought was the precursor of the usual 
 affection, but nothing followed; and seeing it was caused by cold, 
 had, apparently unobserved, cast over her a large red shawl, which 
 fell in soft folds round her person. It was far in the night when 
 she arose from that strange vigil ; and, dreamily passing her hands 
 over her face and neck as if to arouse herself, sighed^ and advancing 
 to the threshold of the shrine, joined her hands together, and bowing 
 reverently before the image, saluted it, and silently turned away. 
 
 "Not to-night, Bheemee," she said to a woman who approached 
 her bearing her sandals, and laid them down at the entrance to the 
 temple, — " not to-night. The Mother bids me go ; she is sad, and will 
 come another time. Hark ! what is what ? " and she paused to listen. 
 
 A hoarse roar, a cry as though of a wail of thousands of voices, 
 came from all sides at once, floating up the precipices, echoed from 
 the rocks, and reverberating from mountain to mountain. It seemed 
 to those present, who were already filled with superstitious expecta- 
 tion, as if spirits cried out, being invisible, and that some unearthly 
 commotion was in progress around them. In the pure mountain air, 
 «till as it was, these sounds seemed to float about them mysteriously, 
 
 * A series of very curious and most interesting papers on this subject, by 
 the late Xavier Murphy, Esq., were pubhshed some years ago in the "Dublin 
 University Magazine." — M. T. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, , 415 
 
 now dying away, and now returning more faintly than before, till 
 they ceased, or only a confused perception of them remained. The 
 fierce shout or wail, however, occurred but once ; what followed 
 was more diffuse and undecided. 
 
 "Something has moved the people more than ordinarily, lady," 
 said a priest who advanced from the outer court. "The assembly 
 can be seen from the bastion yonder, and I have been watching it 
 while you were within; if you would look, follow me." 
 
 She drew the shawl more closely around her, and went with him 
 through the court to the bastion, which, situated on the edge of an 
 single of the precipice, commanded a view of the town and valley 
 below. The moon shone clear and bright, else she had looked into 
 a black void ; but the air was soft and white, of a tint like opal, as 
 the moon's rays caught the thin vapours now rising. Some thou- 
 sands of feet below, was a bright spot in a dell, filled with torches, 
 which sent up a dull smoke, while they diffused a bright light on all 
 around. There were many thousands of people there, mostly men, 
 and there was a glitter as of weapons among them, as the masses 
 still heaved and swayed under the influence of some strange excite- 
 ment. She could make out no particular forms, but she knew that 
 her son sat in the pavilion at the end, and about that there was no 
 movement. As she looked, the shout they had first heard arose 
 more clearly than before — " Hur, Hm', Mahadeo 1 Donguras-lavile 
 Deva!"* 
 
 " O Mother," she cried, stretching out her arms to the sky, and 
 then to the dell below, "enough ! thou hast heard the prayer of thy 
 daughter : thou wast there with him, not with me. Now I under- 
 stand, and it is enough. Come, Bheemee, it is cold," she said, after 
 a pause, and in her usual cheerful voice, "thou shouldst have been 
 yonder in the Kutha, girl, and all of you. Well, the next, to-morrow 
 night, will be a better one, and you shall all go, for I will go myself 
 with the Maharaja; come now, they will not return till daylight;" 
 and descending the steps of the bastion, she followed her servants, 
 who preceded her, to the private aparments. 
 
 Below, Sivaji had been busy since before sunset. He had de- 
 scended the mountain on foot, attended by his body-guard, and a 
 large company of the garrison of the fort — a gay procession, as, 
 accompanied by the pipers and horn-blowers of the fortress, it had 
 wound down the rugged pathway in the full glare of the evening 
 sun ; and, amidst the shouts of thousands, and a confused and 
 hideous clangour, caused by the independent performances of all the 
 pipers and drummers of the clans assembled — the screaming, quiver- 
 ing notes of the long village horns, the clash of cymbals, and the 
 
 * " Mahadeo ! the fire has lit the hills ! " — the Mahratta invocation to battle 
 which ia used also as the heading to all threatening notices. 
 
416 TABA 
 
 deep tones of some of the large brass trumpets belonging to the 
 temple, which had been brought down from the fort, — Sivaji passed on 
 ronnd the village to the spot which had been cleared for the Kutha. 
 
 It was a glen from which all wood had long been cleared away, 
 and short crisp grass had grown up in its place, which, moistened 
 by the perpetual drainage of the mountain, was always close and 
 verdant. Near enough to the village to serve as a grazing ground 
 for its cattle, the herbage was kept short by them ; and the passage 
 round and round its sides of beasts of all kinds, goats and sheep, 
 cows, bullocks, and buffaloes, had worn them into paths which 
 formed, as it were, a series of steps, rising gradually to the edge of 
 the forest above. 
 
 In the midst was a bright green sward, soft and close, and of 
 some extent, and at all times of the year the resort of the village youth 
 for athletic exercises — wrestling, leaping, archery, shooting with 
 the matchlock, or, most favoured of all perhaps, the sword-playing 
 for which the Mahratta soldiery were almost celebrated. A pro- 
 jecting mound, which might have been artificial, and was possibly 
 the partly completed embankment of some intended reservoir, 
 stretched nearly across its mouth, and while its grassy surface 
 afforded seats to many of the spectators, it shut out the valley 
 beyond, from all observers. 
 
 At the upper end of the dell, which in shape was a long oval, and 
 slightly raised above the level sward, was the Hajah's seat, a plat- 
 form of sods and earth, covered with dry grass, and then with 
 carpets from the fort, upon which the Guddee, or seat of state, was 
 placed. Directly the Rajah had retired from the morning cere- 
 mony, the cushions had been taken down the mountain and placed 
 on this dais, which afforded room also for many personal friends 
 and priests who attended the ceremony with him. 
 
 In the centre of the sward, but near the upper end, was the place 
 for the players. The smoothest portion of turf had been selected, 
 and around it wattled screens were built, made of leafy branches, 
 for entrance and exit, and also to allow of changes of dress, rest 
 during intervals of performance, and the like. The stage, if it 
 might be called one, was bounded by wild plantain trees cut oft' at 
 the root, and set in the ground so that the broad leaves continued 
 fresh and green ; and above these were twined branches of teak 
 with their large rough foliage, bamboos, and other slender trees 
 readily felled and transported, while long masses of flowery creepers 
 had been cut from the forest, and hung from poles at each side 
 above the players' heads in graceful festoons. Inside all this 
 foliage, were huge cressets of iron filled with cotton-seed soaked in 
 oil, and all round the area below, and especially round the Rajah's 
 seat, similar torches had been arranged, which would be lighted as 
 the ceremony began, and illuminate the whole. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 417 
 
 Before the stage, there was a small altar of earth, on which 
 brightly polished brass vessels for pouring libations were set out, 
 and above them, upon a silver pedestal, a small silver image of the 
 goddess had been placed for worship. 
 
 Early in the afternoon, people had begun to assemble there, and 
 after the Rajah's arrival in the town, a new procession was formed 
 to accompany him to the place. Thousands had rushed on before 
 it ; along the valley, over the shoulders of the mountain, and as best 
 they could, so as to secure good places for the sight ; and by the 
 time the head of the procession crossed the little brook which bubbled 
 out beneath the mound, and ran leaping and tinkling down the 
 valley, and had entered the glen, — the whole of its sides and the 
 mound had grown into a dense mass of human beings closely packed 
 together. There were comparatively few women ; those who sat 
 there were for the most part the E-ajah's Mawullees and Hetkurees, 
 armed as if for battle, ready, if needed, to march thence on any 
 enterprise, however distant or desperate. 
 
 A clear space had been left for the advancing procession. In 
 front the Rajah's pipers, playing some of the wild mountain melodies, 
 which echoed among the woods and crags above, broken now and 
 then by blasts of horns and trumpets, and the deep monotonous beat 
 of many large tambourine drums, the bearers of which were mar- 
 shalled by the chief drummer of the fort, who, with his instrument 
 decked with flowers and silken streamers, strutted or leaped in front 
 of all, beating a wild march. Then followed Brahmuns, bareheaded 
 and naked to the waist, carrying bright copper vessels of sacred 
 water, flowers and incense, with holy fire from the temple on the 
 mountain, chanting hymns at intervals. After them, the players 
 and reciters, male and female, in fantastic dresses, wearing gilt 
 tiaras to resemble the costumes seen in carvings of ancient temples, 
 among whom were the jesters or clowns, who bandied bold and free 
 remarks with the crowd, and provoked many a hearty laugh and 
 sharp retort. After these the Rajah's own guard, some with sword 
 and buckler only, others bearing matchlocks with long bright 
 barrels, who marched in rows with somewhat of military organiza- 
 tion ; then the servants ; and last of all Sivaji himself. Slowly the 
 procession passed up the centre; then the leading portions of it 
 dividing on each hand, the Rajah, advancing, mounted the small 
 platform. Ere he seated himself he saluted the assembly, turning 
 to each side of it with his hand raised to his head, and all rose to 
 welcome him with clapping of hands and shouts which made the 
 wooded glen and the precipices above, ring with the joyous sound. 
 Then all subsided into their seats, and the preliminary sacrifices 
 and offerings began. 
 
 2 E 
 
418 TABA 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIII. 
 
 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 offermgs, 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 Bajah'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 dis- 
 tance, 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. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 419 
 
 So tlie entertainment proceeded. We, wlio 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 sym- 
 pathies 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 descrip- 
 tion 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 pro- 
 longed 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 horse- 
 men ; 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 ser- 
 vant ; 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^ 
 
420 TARA 
 
 and her temple at Tooljapoor desecrated. Yes," he continued, lift^ 
 ing up his hand to stay the cry which was about to break out^ 
 " Afzool Khan has cast down the image of Toolja Mata, 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, rever- 
 berating from side to side of the glen, went out through the woods, — 
 up the mountain- sides and precipices of the fort, — softened by dis- 
 tance, — 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 confirm- 
 ation 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 toa 
 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 Bhoslay lives, and ye live ! Better we died in honour 
 than lived to be pointed at as cowards, while she is unrevenged 1 
 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 ! Donguras-lavile 
 
 Deva!" 
 
 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. 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. * 421 
 
 But tliere was silence at last. It seemed as i£ tlie men expected to 
 Le led there and tlien against their hereditary foes. That, however, 
 was not to be yet. During the clamour, Maloosray had told his 
 chieftain that Af zool 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. 
 
 ''!N'ot 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 
 mews 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, players ! Who shall say that Sivaji Bhoslay 
 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 sotnersault 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 Boodhenath, 
 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 
 Kotwal'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. 
 
422 TARA : 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIY. 
 
 But the arrival of an Envoy from the Mahomedan Greneral was an 
 event of no small importance to the Hajah Sivaji. In order to fur- 
 ther the plan he had conceived, and partly executed, in the despatch 
 of envoys to the Mahomedan camp — it was his object to disarm all 
 suspicion ; and while assuming an appearance of insignificance and 
 weakness which should impress upon the mind of a new-comer his 
 insufficiency to make any resistance, the Rajah was making arrange- 
 ments which, as Maloosray and other friends knew, boded action of 
 no ordinary kind. When the time came, he would act, he said, as 
 the goddess directed. His mother had been silent for many days, 
 and almost constantly sat in the temple before the altar ; and it was 
 certain there would be some special revelation. She had spread the 
 end of her garment ^ before the Mother, and she had never done so, 
 they said, in vain ; but she wag silent, and so they waited. 
 
 Afzool Khan's Envoy had been received with the utmost distinc- 
 tion. When within a few miles of the fort he had been met by a 
 deputation of Brahmuns and inferior military officers, and delayed 
 only long enough to have the necessary astrological calculations 
 made as to a propitious moment for entrance into the town. There, 
 a house was assigned to him : servants of the Rajah appointed to 
 attend on him : and his escort was supplied with forage and food in 
 abundance. Nothing was wanting to give assurance of simple but 
 earnest hospitality. 
 
 The day after, an audience of the Rajah was fixed upon. The 
 Envoy was desired to choose his own time ; and the astrologer in his 
 suite, with that of the Rajah, having ascertained a lucky conjunction 
 of planets, the Envoy was carried up the mountain-side in a palan- 
 ' keen to the fort-gate, where sheep were sacrificed before him, cannon 
 fired from the ramparts, and the fort pipers, drummers, and horn- 
 blowers, performed a rude and very noisy welcome. Then the men 
 on guard at the gate, with others of the garrison of the fort, formed 
 a street, which reached as far as the Rajah's pavilion ; and the 
 palankeen being carried along this, amidst the firing of matchlocks 
 and shouting of the title of the King of Beejapoor by the royal bard 
 and herald in his suite, the Envoy was set down before the same rude 
 pavilion which we have before described, where the Rajah Sivaji 
 awaited him. 
 
 To all appearance an insignificant little man, dark, youthful in 
 appearance, with only one ornament in his turban, dressed in the 
 plainest clothes, and without even the gold embroidered cushion on 
 
 * Pidloo fusarnd — the most earnest and humble supplication that a Mahratta 
 woman can make. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 423 
 
 wliicli lie had been seated on the day of the Kutha. Punto Gopinath 
 wondered much when he remembered the exaggerated aceonnts of 
 the Prince which were sung in ballads, told by bards and reciters, 
 and were believed by the people. Was this the saviour who was to 
 come ? "Was this the man who was to rescue the Hindu faith from 
 obloquy, if not from destruction : — protect Brahmuns, foster learn- 
 ing, endow and enrich temples ? Above all, was this the man who 
 was to defy the forces of Beejapoor, the fierce Abyssinians, the fiery 
 Dekhanies — the noble park of artillery ? There were no troops, no 
 means of offence visible. True, the fort itself was strong, but the 
 garrison was small, and unworthy of consideration in comparison 
 with the thousands who were even now nigh at hand. 
 
 These thoughts hurried rapidly through the Envoy's mind as he 
 passed up the street of men, and the Rajah's authorities and higher 
 order of servants, who stood on each side of this approach to the hall 
 itself. Punto jee Gropindth was a big man in every sense of the word. 
 His body was large and corpulent, and he stooped much. His head 
 was wrapped in a white cashmere shawl, which increased its naturally 
 dispro23ortionate size. His features were massive but flaccid, and his 
 cheeks shook, while his head wagged from side to side as he walked. 
 His eyes were large, but red and watery ; and the protruding under- 
 lip, full, and set in deep lines at the corners, gave him an air of 
 pompous self-sufficiency. 
 
 With all this, the Brahmun was a shrewd, astute person. He was 
 vain, and usually confident. Now, however, as he saluted the Rajah, 
 he felt the eyes which scanned him from head to foot had already 
 taken a measure of him, which might be favourable or otherwise. 
 Perhaps it was flattering, perhaps mortifying ; he could not say 
 which. They were in any case different eyes to those of his own 
 rulers and officers, who were Mahomedans. Their eyes took things 
 for granted, and he was accustomed to placid acquiescence, or per- 
 haps to occasional fierce bursts of passion, which never affected him. 
 These eyes, on the contrary, were restless and inquisitive, leaving an 
 impression that they had seen and understood hidden thoughts, and 
 would bring them out, lurk where they might. 
 
 Perhaps, for the first time in his public life, the Brahmun was 
 disconcerted; but it was no time to show this; and recovering him- 
 self, he offered the prescribed salutation, and sinking into the seat 
 pointed out to him, which was beside, but rather in front of the 
 Rajah, with a loud exclamation of Ramchunder ! which was his 
 habit — he settled himself on his heels after the most approved courtly 
 fashion, placed his hands gravely upon his knees, twisted up his 
 moustaches, and felt his habitual confidence return. 
 • We need not, perhaps, follow the conference. The Envoy, as in- 
 structed, at first took a high tone as to outrages and treason on the 
 
424 TABA : 
 
 part of the Rajali, and of 'the clemency and wisdom of the sovereign 
 he represented. There should have been no attempts at insurrection, 
 because the cause was hopeless by force, and the royal ear was ever 
 open to suppliants for justice, if timely submission were made. 
 
 The Rajah did not reply personally, but this pitiless scrutiny of 
 the Envoy continued without interruption, and the address was 
 answered by Krishnajee Bhaskur, one of his own Brahmun officers, 
 eloquently and yet respectfully : — ^What had been done ? No redress 
 had been given for injury, for extortion, and local oppression. In 
 despair, some retaliation had been made. It was the mountain 
 custom, even by village against village ; and did not affect higher 
 relations, which would only become the more firmly consolidated 
 when the cause of quarrel was past. "But," he added, in conclusion, 
 *' the details are private matters, and will be discussed better in 
 privacy, and through Afzool Khan alone, does the Rajah wish to 
 have them arranged. What have we here to oppose him ? We have 
 no concealments, no means of defence against such a force as his ?" 
 
 "Indeed, no," said Sivaji, smiling. "An army of elephants has 
 been sent to crush ants' nests, as the proverb hath it ; and if the 
 noble Khan will remain, and take charge of the country now under 
 me, I will resign it to him cheerfully, and become his servant. Wilt 
 thou say this to him ? " 
 
 "Indeed, my prince," returned the Brahmun, putting up his joined 
 hands, " we who were in Beejapoor well know how much Afzool 
 Khan helped your father, when he was confined, in the old Sultan's 
 time ; and how much the rigour of his imprisonment was softened 
 by the Khan's kindness. Ah ! he is a humane and generous man, 
 and has no personal enmity against you, my lord." 
 
 " We will at least put it to the proof," returned the Rajah good- 
 humouredly. " You are witness that you have seen no preparations 
 for defence or resistance, and the sooner he comes the better. We 
 cannot hurry him and the force, but we will at least make prepara- 
 tions for a peaceful entertainment ; and if the Khan will accept of our 
 rude mountain hospitality instead of the Jehad we hear he has been 
 preaching against us, it will be a happy thing for all." 
 
 " A happy thing indeed !" said Bulwunt Rao, who, in the suite of 
 the Envoy, had as yet sat silently, and had not been recognized; 
 " and when public affairs are settled, private justice may be done to 
 suppliants like me, who, only for state quarrels, dare not have 
 entered this fort." 
 
 "Who art thou, friend ?" asked Sivaji; "a suitor to me, and from 
 Beejapoor ? — a Mahratta among Moslems ? Who art thou ? " 
 
 " I may not mention my name here, my lord," said Bulwunt Rao, 
 rising, and again saluting the Rajah reverently ; " but I can tell it 
 in private. One whom injustice and evil fate have led where he is, 
 and who, only for them, would have been serving you." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 425 
 
 " How can I serve thee ? " asked the Rajah sharply ; " I am not 
 Ti snail J hard of access ; therefore come to me when thon wilt, and I 
 will hear thee." 
 
 " I will come," returned Bui want Rao, looking round to all, "and 
 put thee, Sivaji Bhoslay, to the proof. Men vaunt the Rajah's 
 justice," he continued — " he will find much to do for me ;" and he 
 sat down again. 
 
 An awkward pause ensued in the assembly, which no one seemed 
 inclined to break : and the person who ofiiciated as master of the 
 ceremonies, having observed a signal from the Rajah, brought in 
 flowers, with pan leaves, and distributed them in order of precedence 
 to the Envoy and all his suite. Bulwunt Rao, however, would take 
 nothing. 
 
 "If justice is done me," he said, rising again, "my share of flowers 
 will come with it, and will be hung about my neck in honour; if not, 
 they will hang here," — and he touched his sword-hilt — " better." 
 
 " This savours of a threat, sir," said Sivaji, with flashing eyes. 
 
 "The meanest will turn against oppression," returned Bulwunt; 
 **and Sivaji Bhoslay has just pleaded this in extenuation of his own 
 acts. I, too, make the same reply, my prince ; and when you know 
 mj history, you will confess I am no traitor to Mahrattas." 
 
 "All are dismissed," said the Rajah, rising; "see that these 
 gentlemen are safely escorted below ;" and amidst the confusion 
 which occurred in many persons rising, [and as the Durbar broke up, 
 he whispered to the Brahmun who had been spokesman, and who 
 was one of his most confidential servants, " See that the Khan's 
 Envoy be separately accommodated. 1 must visit him privately to- 
 night, and thou must be with me, Krishnajee ; I will come to thee 
 at the first watch." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXY. 
 
 The Rajah passed into the inner chamber, and found his mother 
 sitting at the window alone, looking over the road which ascended 
 to the fort-gate. He prostrated himself before her, as was his 
 wont, and, sitting down opposite to her in silence, fell apparently 
 into deep thought. She did not interrupt him ; but as the trumpet 
 sounded, and a salute of cannon was fired from the ramparts, and 
 the Envoy's procession passed out, and wound down the pass — she 
 saw him following the palankeen with his eyes, while his lips moved 
 gently, as though he spoke to himself. As it disappeared behind a 
 shoulder of the mountain, he turned to her and smiled. 
 
 "Mother," he said, "you saw the Khan's Envoy. I expected 
 
426 TAB A 
 
 some stupid, wrong-lieaded, supercilious Mussulman, but behold he 
 has sent a Brahmun, and with him a Mahratta, whom we should 
 know, but no one recognizes him. I think the Mother will give 
 both to me, yet you said one only." 
 
 "My vision was but of one," she replied, " and it will be enough. 
 Who is the Mahratta?" 
 
 " They said his name was Bulwunt Rao, mother, but he did not 
 mention his surname, and no one knew it," returned the Rajah. 
 
 " It must be Bulwunt Bao Bhoslay, Tannajee's cousin," replied 
 the lady. " I know of no other Mahratta of good family in Beeja- 
 poor. He is a relative of our own." 
 
 "Ah!" exclaimed her son, "yes, it must be he; and I have pro- 
 mised him justice, mother ; but what of Tannajee ? " 
 ^ " It cannot be, son," she said ; " that is a blood feud, and blood 
 only will quench it. Tannajee did but revenge a murder, and you 
 cannot quarrel with him. Let it be ; no good will come of it." 
 
 " JSTevertheless I will try, mother ; and if the Brahmun " 
 
 "Fear not," she returned. "If he be a true Brahmun, the god- 
 dess hath given him to thee. I will go to her. It is my hour for 
 watching, and I will pray her to guide thee." 
 
 Sivaji sat as before, looking out over the rugged mountain-side 
 and the pass, now glowing in the rich tints of an afternoon sun. 
 If he could only get Afzool Khan into his power, and hold him sure 
 as a hostage, he might make his own terms. Would the Brahmun 
 aid him in this ? A word from him and the matter was secure. 
 If he could only be persuaded to write, a swift messenger might be 
 sent to the camp, with one of his own officers to guide on the army. 
 Once the troops entered the defiles they were at his mercy. There 
 was no escape — the whole must surrender or be slain ; but he well 
 knew the old Afghan would not agree to dishonour, and to separate 
 him from his force was therefore his chief anxiety. As yet the 
 temptation within him had assumed no more definite form ; and in 
 respect to the final result, his mother, strange to say, was altogether 
 silent ; but she had again taken up the position she had assumed 
 before the shrine for many days past, and his belief in her inspira- 
 tion was not to be shaken. 
 
 Late that night, muffled in a coarse blanket, and accompanied 
 only by the Brahmun before mentioned, and a few attendants, the 
 Rajah descended from the fort by a steep and rugged pathway, 
 which led from a postern directly to the town, and, leaving the men 
 at the gate, they passed rapidly on to the house where the Envoy 
 had been located. • It belonged to the Josee or astrologer of the 
 town, in whose science the Rajah had much faith ; and, as was 
 usual with him on all occasions of great enterprise, the aspects of 
 the planets had been consulted, and declared to be favourable at 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 427 
 
 the hour at which they had purposely timed their arrival. The 
 Josee met them at the door. " The Pundit is sitting within," he 
 said, "reading, and there is no one with him. I have prepared the 
 writing materials, too, as directed, and they will be brought if you 
 call." 
 
 " Wait, then, in the outer court, friends," said the Rajah to his 
 attendants. " This must be done between us alone. Not even thou, 
 Krishnajee, must know what passes between us." 
 
 Punto Gropinath was sitting in the inner verandah of the second 
 court of the house, as the Josee had said, reading. He looked up as 
 the old man entered and said, " There is one here from the Rajah, 
 who would speak with you." 
 
 *' Admit him," was the reply ; and Sivaji could see as he entered, 
 that the Brahmun drew towards him a short, heavy dagger- sword, 
 and placed it so that the hilt lay close to his right hand. " Be seated, 
 friend," said the Envoy, "and tell thy business. What doth Sivaji 
 Bhoslay desire of me ? " 
 
 The Rajah's face was tied up with a handkerchief, which partly 
 concealed his mouth and changed the tone of his voice, and he had 
 passed his hand, covered with white wood-ashes, across his nose,, 
 eyes, and forehead, as he entered, which altered the expression o£ 
 his eyes very considerably. It was evident that he was not recog- 
 nized. 
 
 " Sivaji Bhoslay desires the prosperity and advancement of 
 Brahmuns," replied the Rajah, "and to enrich them is his sole care. 
 He worships them ; and would fain have them as powerful as in 
 the days of the ancients, and in this desire thou canst assist." 
 
 " I assist ! How, friend ? I, a Brahmun, am a receiver, not a 
 giver, — and am only a servant to the unclean," he added with a 
 sigh. 
 
 " It need not be so. Pundit. The fame of thy learning hath pre- 
 ceded thee, and the Maharaja desires thy friendship and welfare. I 
 am sent to tell thee this." 
 
 "What can I do ?" said the Envoy restlessly. "What would he 
 have me do ? and who art thou to speak thus to me ? " 
 
 "No matter who I am- — I am authorized to speak," replied Sivaji. 
 "Look, here is his ring as my authority. 'Is he a Brahmun,' the 
 Rajah said, ' and come with Moslem followers to sit in my Durbar ? 
 Alas, alas ! that such should be, that the pure and holy should serve 
 the unclean. This is indeed the age of iron, and of debasement.' " 
 
 The Brahmun writhed in his seat. " There are many besides me," 
 he said, " who serve the people of Islam." 
 
 "Who serve the destroyers of Toolja Mata, the defilers of her 
 temple, the slayers of Brahmuns, and of sacred kine everywhere I 
 O, shame — shame ! " cried the Rajah eagerly. 
 
428 TAEA : 
 
 " I was not at the shrine when the affray took place," said the 
 Brahmnn apologetically. " I could not help it." 
 
 " Has then a Brahmun's holiness become so debased that he says 
 only, I could not help it?" returned the Rajah. "Is it pleasing to 
 the Mother, think you, that her people should fawn on those whose 
 hands are red in the blood of her votaries ? " 
 
 " I would fling my service at the feet of Afzool Khan, and even of 
 the Sultan himself, could I but serve with Hindus as I desire to 
 serve," exclaimed the Brahmun. 
 
 " The opportunity might be found, friend," answered the Rajah, 
 " if it were truly desired ; but proof of fidelity would be required, — 
 would it be given ? What is the Maharaja's desire ? Dost thou 
 know it?" 
 
 " I guess it," said the Brahmun, " for I am not easily deceived by 
 appearances, and I understood his looks to-day, if I mistake not. 
 Could I only speak with him ? Canst thou take me to him ? " 
 
 " I can tell thy message to him,*' replied the Rajah, " and will 
 deliver it faithfully. He chose me, else I had not dared to come." 
 
 The Envoy appeared to hesitate for a moment. " Impossible," he 
 said — " impossible that I could tell another, what Sivaji himself 
 should alone hear; it could not be." 
 
 "Dost thou know me, friend?" returned the Rajah, as he untied 
 the handkerchief which concealed his face, and with it wiped the 
 white ashes from his eyes and forehead — " dost thou know me ? It 
 is thus that I salute a holy Brahmun;" and he rose and made a 
 lowly reverence, touching the feet of the Envoy respectfully. 
 
 The man strove to return it, but was prevented, " It cannot be,*' 
 continued Sivaji ; " here thou art a Brahmun, and I a Sudra. Let 
 it be as I wdsh. It is for thee to receive the honour, not I." 
 
 "What would you have me do, Maharaja?" replied the Envoy, 
 now trembling much. " I have done evil in helping the unclean, 
 and would now expiate it if possible." 
 
 " I have had many things in my mind. Pundit," replied the Rajah, 
 ■*' and the Mother sends perplexing thoughts ; but one thing is clear 
 to me — she must be avenged." 
 
 The man echoed the words — " She must be avenged." 
 
 *' Yes," continued the Rajah, " day and night, by old and young, 
 rich and poor, man or woman, there is but one cry going up from 
 Maharastra — ' Avenge the Mother ! ' and yet before that force we 
 are powerless." 
 
 " Where are the Mawullees ? where are the Hetkurees we have 
 heard of, and the gallant Tannajee ? " cried the Brahmun excitedly. 
 " What art thou doing, Sivaji Bhoslay ? Men say of thee that thy 
 mother holds thee back, else ' the fire should be on the hills.'" 
 
 " Good ! " returned Sivaji, smiling ; " it is as I thought, and there 
 is yet a Brahmun who is true. What dost thou advise ? " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 42^ 
 
 *' Hark ! " said Gopinath, " come nearer. If I bring Afzool Khan 
 and liis men within the defiles, will it content thee ? If I do this, 
 what wilt thou do for me ? " 
 
 *' I have prepared for that already, — a Jahgeer, a high office, 
 secular or among the priesthood, as thou wilt, — donble thj present 
 pay, whatever it be, — an ensign of rank, and — my friendship. Look, 
 Pundit," cried the Rajah, springing closer to him, and drawing a 
 small bright knife from his breast, " it were easy to slay thee, — for 
 my knee is on thy weapon, — and so prevent my proposal being 
 known : but it is not needed. Fear not," he added, for the drops 
 of sweat were standing on the Brahmun's brow, under the terror 
 he felt — " fear not ! only be true, and Sivaji Bhoslay will not fail 
 thee. When he has a kingdom thou shalt share its honour." 
 
 " Give me time to write," said the man, trembling under convic- 
 tion of his own treachery and the excess of temptation to which he 
 was exposed; " I will give the letter to-morrow." 
 
 "Impossible, Pundit," replied the Rajah: "the messengers are 
 ready without, and they will bear what must be written to the 
 Khan." 
 
 " Who will take the letter ? " 
 
 " The Brahmun who spoke for me this morning ; he and soma 
 horsemen are now ready." 
 
 " But to the Khan himself there must be no harm done," said the 
 Pundit. " To him and his son I owe many kindnesses : for the rest, 
 as thou wilt. Keep the family as hostages." 
 
 " As guests yonder," replied the Rajah ; "he will be safe, he and 
 his. Shall I send for writing materials ? Krishnajee ! Sit there," 
 he continued, as his attendant entered; "see that what is written is 
 plain." 
 
 And the Envoy wrote in the Persian character, in which he was a 
 proficient, and which the other secretary understood : — 
 
 " I have seen the Rajah, his fort, and his people, and there is 
 nothing to apprehend. They are all beneath notice : but in order to 
 settle everything perfectly, and to inspire terror, my lord should 
 advance with all the force, according to the plan devised here, which 
 the bearer, one of the Rajah's secretaries, will explain personally, 
 and which would be tedious to write. In a strictly private inter- 
 view, which will be arranged, the Rajah Sivaji will throw himself 
 at the feet of the Envoy of the king of kings, and receive the 
 pardon which he desires. More would be beyond respect." 
 
 "It is enough," said Sivaji, when this writing was explained to 
 him — " it will have the desired effect. Take this letter, Krishnajee, 
 and set out for camp at once." 
 
 " Stay," added the Envoy, " let him accompany my messenger, — 
 the Mahratta officer who spoke so boldly to-day. It were better he- 
 
430 TAEA 
 
 went, and lie will not refuse duty. Enter tliat room and close the 
 door, my lord, while I send for him ;" and he called to an attendant 
 to summon Bulwunt Rao. 
 
 It was not long ere he came in, flushed somewhat, as it seemed, 
 with drink. " Wlio is this ?" he said. 
 
 *' The Maharaja's Secretary, who will accompany thee to camp. 
 Go at once, if thou art fit, Bulwunt Rao ; it is needful that Afzool 
 Khan receive this as soon as may be." 
 
 " I am ready, Maharaj, to ride up Pertabgurh," he replied ; " and 
 he?" 
 
 " I attend you," said the Secretary ; " come, we must leave this 
 when the moon rises ;" and they went out together, 
 
 " Enough," said the Rajah, emerging from his concealment. 
 " Grenerations hereafter will record how Punto Gopinath served his 
 prince. Fear not — it will be well with thee and thine hereafter." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXYI. 
 
 The letter despatched by the Rajah Sivaji, as we have recorded, was 
 received in a few days by the Khan, and its tenor was not doubted. 
 There was nothing in it which could in any degree disturb the 
 Khan's complacency, or awaken suspicion. If he chafed at the idea 
 of a bloodless campaign, and his friend the Peer, in the ardour of 
 his bigotry, sighed at what now promised to be a tame conclusion 
 to an exciting commencement, — Fazil, on the other hand, and with 
 him the commander of the Mahratta contingent in camp, and others 
 who had more sympathy with the people of the country than their 
 elders, rejoiced that it was to be so ; and that a valuable ally and 
 confederate was to be secured to the dynasty which they served, by 
 means which appeared at once just, merciful, and binding upon 
 both. 
 
 The new Envoy who brought the letter, pleased the Khan and the 
 Peer extremely. In the first place, he spoke the Dekhan court 
 language fluently, and was a fair Persian scholar. He was known 
 to the Khan as having served in a subordinate department when he 
 himself held the administration of Wye, and he gratefully acknow- 
 ledged — as he reminded the Khan of — former benefits. The first 
 envoys could not communicate with the Khan except through 
 interpreters. True, his son was usually present, or occasionally the 
 holy priest himself, who might be induced to assist ; but the Khan 
 would have better liked to manage these Mahratta envoys himself, 
 and now there was the desired opportunity. Day after day, as the 
 army advanced without check, by easy but continuous stages, the 
 
A M ABB ATT A TALE, 431 
 
 new agent was in close attendance, and very frequently, with the 
 others, was summoned to private conferences. Fazil, too, had his 
 share in them, and to every outward appearance no room existed for 
 suspicion of any kind. 
 
 They had now entered the Rajah's own jurisdiction, and were 
 treated more as honoured guests than as an invading army. Sup- 
 plies were provided at every stage, forage was abundant, difficult 
 places in the roads were found cleared for the artillery, and the 
 people met them with goodwill and courtesy, which was as pleasant 
 as unexpected. Any idea of resistance was out of the question. 
 The usual village guards, or here and there a few horsemen in attend- 
 ance on a local functionary, were all that was seen of the Rajah's 
 forces ; and the Khan was amused and gratified with the Envoy's 
 descriptions of how — to attract attention to his affairs — his master 
 had caused the belief to gain ground that he was possessed of an 
 army of vast power. 
 
 In short, all the obstructions and dangers which had appeared so 
 great at a distance had passed away ; and as the Klhan led his troops 
 more and more deeply into the mountainous district, he could not 
 but feel that if they had been opposed in those rugged defiles, the 
 struggle would have been difficult as well as desperate. The enemy 
 would have had a stronger country to retreat upon, and one more 
 easily defended, while, in proportion, the advance to him would 
 have been beset with peril which could hardly be estimated. 
 
 Very frequently Fazil asked particulars of the fort of Pertabgurh 
 from Bulwunt Rao, who described it clearly enough, — an ordinary 
 hill fort, with a garrison strong for local purposes, but, after all, 
 only such as Mahratta chiefs and gentry kept about them ; strong in 
 their own position, but helpless for offence. Where, then, were the 
 armies which Sivaji was said to possess ? Bulwunt Rao, in reply, 
 pointed to the village people, all soldiers, he said, from their youth, 
 and accustomed to arms : but among them there was no symptom 
 of excitement, nor could Bulwunt Rao, suspecting nothing himself, 
 discover any cause for alarm : and so they proceeded. 
 
 Meanwhile, the programme of a meeting had been arranged by 
 the agents between the Khan and Sivaji. Both parties had mooted 
 points of etiquette, which could hardly be overcome. The Rajah, 
 as a prince, could not visit the Khan first, nor could Afzool Khan, 
 as the representative of royalty, visit the Rajah ; but they could both 
 meet, and the barrier of ceremony once broken, it mattered little 
 what followed. No troops were to be present. Attended each by a 
 single armed follower, the place of meeting was fixed on a level 
 spot at some little distance up the mountain ofp Pertabgurh, where 
 the Rajah, the Envoy said, had already prepared a pavilion, which 
 . would be fitted up f oi? the occasion. If the Khan pleased, he might 
 
432 TABA 
 
 bring a thousand of Ms best horse — more, if convenient — to witness 
 the ceremony from below ; but only one attendant besides the 
 palankeen-bearers could advance to the conference. Nothing was 
 to be written, and the agent already at the fort would attend the 
 Khan on the one hand, while another of the 'Rajah's, if possible or 
 needful, would accompany him from above. "No objection appeared, 
 and none was made, to these arrangements. 
 
 So the army reached its final stage near the village of Jowly, a 
 few miles distant from the fort ; and the last preparations were 
 made that night by both parties. The morning would see the Khan 
 set out early accompanied by fifteen hundred chosen horse — some 
 Abyssinian, some Dekhani, others his own retainers, — all picked 
 men ; while the remainder of the army should rest from its labour 
 and exertion, which, on account of the rough mountain roads, had 
 been exceedingly great for the last three days. 
 
 At Jowly, too, the camp was more than ordinarily pleasant. A 
 plain of some extent, and which for the most part was under culti- 
 vation, afforded ample room for all the force. The grassy slopes of 
 the mountains, by which the plain was surrounded, furnished abun- 
 dant supplies of forage ; a brawling stream ran under the hills on 
 one side, and the Rajah's usual supplies of food of all kinds were 
 abundant at moderate prices in a bazar which, consisting of rough 
 sheds and small tents, was located near the village on the other. 
 
 Let us see how the night was passed by both parties. 
 
 The Elian's tents had been pitched on an even sward which 
 bordered the rivulet, and several fine trees were included in the area 
 enclosed by the canvas walls. Under the shade of these, Zyna and 
 Fazil had sat most part of the day. A few carpets and pillows had 
 been spread there, and the cool fresh mountain air, the brawling 
 murmur of the brook, and the grand and beautiful scenery by which 
 they were surrounded, so different to the bare monotonous undula- 
 tions of the Dekhan, were in themselves more exciting than it was 
 possible for them to have imagined from any previous description. 
 But the loss of Tara's society was pressing heavily upon both. All 
 they heard daily was, that she was well and among her people, who 
 were taking care of her. She would remain with them at Wye ; and 
 as the army returned, she should see Lurlee Khanum and Zyna once 
 more, and take leave of them, for she could not be permitted to 
 sojourn with Mahomedans. This the Envoy had told the Khan and 
 Eazil the day before. 
 
 It was a dreary prospect for Fazil, and apparently a hopeless one. 
 Should he ever see that sweet face more ? ever hear the music of 
 the gentle voice, at once so timid and yet so reliant ? There was no 
 hope that the Brahmuns among whom she had fallen would now 
 give her up voluntarily. It was impossible to think it. Did they 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 433 
 
 know wliat lie had asked and she had half-promised ? — would her 
 life be safe even if they did ? Hardly so, indeed ; or, if safe, would 
 be spared at the price of the disfigurement which awaited her, 
 according to the strict rules of her faith. What they had arranged 
 among themselves, therefore, could not be openly prosecuted ; and, 
 in defiance of his father's cautions, and the apparently smooth pro- 
 gress of public affairs, no effort to demand her, or to recover her by 
 force, could be made as yet. 
 
 "Let us settle everything with this Mahratta first, and as we 
 return by Wye, we will have the girl, or know why," the stout old 
 Khan used to say ; for he had grown to love Tara very dearly, and 
 missed her presence, though in a different manner, as much as any 
 of them. " Fear not, Fazil, the Kafirs shall not possess her." 
 
 So Zyna and Fazil had sat most part of the day, revolving over 
 and over again how best Tara might be assisted or rescued, while 
 blaming themselves a thousand times for that neglect of special pre- 
 cautions for her safety which had resulted in her abduction. 
 
 " If only Moro Trimmul could be found, and brought once more 
 to account," Fazil said, grinding his teeth, '4t would go hard with 
 him ; " but he was not to be heard of. The Envoys in camp declared 
 he had at once proceeded to Pertabgurh to clear himself to the 
 Rajah Sivaji and the lady mother, of whom, in particular, he was an 
 especial favourite ; but he was not now even there : he had been, 
 sent to a distance ; where or why it was not known ; and it was 
 impossible to trace him. Bulwunt Rao, Lukshmun, and the lad 
 Ashruf, had all been employed in turn as spies, but had failed to 
 discover him — ^he was not to be heard of. 
 
 It was now late, and the lady Lurlee came and joined them before 
 the evening prayer. She had been busy after her own fashion, and 
 as the priest and some others were to dine with the Khan, had pre- 
 pared several of her most scientific dishes. She had no doubt as to 
 the issue of the morrow's interview. In the first place, who could 
 resist her husband ? and were not the planets unusually favourable ? 
 She and the priest had compared notes from behind the screen in 
 the tent ; and though he laughed at the curious jargon she had 
 collected on the subject, yet, a steadfast believer in astrology himself, 
 had explained to her how peculiarly fortunate the conjunction was 
 to be at the hour cast for the meeting, and she had fully believed it. 
 If Tara had been there, all would have been perfectly happy ; but, 
 as Lurlee said, the planets told her it was only, after all, a matter of 
 a few days' delay ; and, indeed, perhaps, after to-morrow she might 
 be demanded. 
 
 Fazil, however, in spite of these assurances, was not easy ; and 
 after he left the tents for the evening prayer, had taken counsel with 
 Lukshmun who, in regard to Tara, had taken the place of Bulwunt 
 
 2 F 
 
434 TABA : 
 
 Rao, to whom Fazil dare not intrust his secret. The day she had 
 disappeared, and Fazil's misery was apparent, the hunchback had 
 divined the cause ; and a few inquiries in his capacity of spy had 
 confirmed his suspicions. 
 
 *'I know but of one thing to do, master," he said, as the young 
 man confided to him his dread of violence to the girl — ^' send me 
 back to Wye, where she is ; give me but ever so small a note, and I 
 will deliver it into her own hand ; and if I can bring her away, trust 
 to me to do so. I can traverse these forests and mountains by night ; 
 I can hide her away or disguise her ; and if she be true to thee, she 
 will come. Give me the boy Ashruf, and a little money, and let us 
 go, even now. He is without ; call him." 
 
 " Ashruf," cried the young Khan to the lad, who was standing 
 near the tent door, and who entered at once ; "wilt thou go with 
 Lukshmun ? " 
 
 " My lord," replied the lad, "he and I have arranged this already. 
 They do not know us here, and he has been teaching me a Mahratta 
 ballad which she knows, and we can sing it in Wye to-morrow. If 
 he had not spoken I should have told you of our plan. My lord, we 
 will bring her away silently, and no one shall be the wiser. Yes, I 
 will go into the fire for my lord, if he will but prove me." 
 
 " And Bulwunt Rao ? " said Fazil. 
 
 " He is in the clouds," replied Lukshmun, " in the hope of getting 
 back the family estate ; wind has got into his head, and he is beside 
 himself. To my mind, the Rajah would be far better pleased to 
 have him put out of the way than to favour his pretensions ; but 
 Bulwunt says he has been promised ' justice ; ' and so," added 
 Lukshmun, with a hideous grimace, " he will have his own way, and 
 what is to be is to be ; only write the note, master, quick, and let us 
 go ; he won't help us." 
 
 " Alas ! " replied Fazil, " I can only write Persian ; but she knows 
 my signature, for she used to see me write it. Stay, however," he 
 continued, unfastening a thin gold ring from his wrist, "she will 
 remember this better, and understand it : take it with ye, and may 
 Grod speed ye. Go at once ! Bring her, if possible, or mark where 
 she is, and we will go, Inshalla ! and fetch her." 
 
 The priest was chanting the Azan, and Fazil passed out into the 
 usual place of prayer, which was numerously attended. After its 
 close, the Peer, his father, and all who were to stay to dinner, 
 assembled for the repast, which was served immediately. There 
 was no forward movement of tents that night; and the guests sat till 
 a late hour discussing the probable events of the morrow, and the 
 possibility of an early countermarch, at least as far as Wye, where 
 the open country was preferable to their present confined situation 
 among the mountains. 
 
AMAHRATTA TALE. 435 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVII. 
 
 Was there equal confidence in the fort ? "We must now go there, 
 and listen to the midnight consultation, which may be prolonged 
 till daylight ; and yet men on the eve of some desperate enterprise 
 for which they have prepared themselves, need more rest, and often 
 sleep more calmly, than at any other period of their existence. 
 
 It was the same chamber that we have formerly seen ; but the 
 window of the oriel is shut, for the night wind at that height is cold 
 and bleak, and thick, quilted curtains, which have been let fall 
 before it and the doorway, exclude all air. Sivaji, Maloosray, and 
 Palkur are sitting together, but are silent, for the Rajah's mind is 
 troubled. 
 
 *' If I only knew what she would have me do," he said at length, 
 looking up. " Hast thou prepared all, Tannajee ? " 
 
 " Master," he replied, " everything is ready. By midnight, or a 
 little later, Moro Trimmul and the rest of the veterans will \>Q in 
 the woods near Jowly, around the camp. Every position has been 
 marked out, and will be silently taken up. ]N"o thing can escape out 
 of that plain, and they will await the signal of the five guns from 
 hence. The Brahmun swears," he continued, after a pause, "that 
 he will take the pretty sister of the young Khan, in revenge for his 
 seduction of the Tooljapoor Moorlee." 
 
 "He dare not," said Sivaji quickly. "I have heard that girl was an 
 honoured guest in Afzool Khan's family ; the Brahmuns say she was. 
 ]^o, he dare not touch her ; and I have warned him not to do so." 
 
 Maloosray shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps," he said ; "God 
 knows ! but Moro says otherwise. Let it pass ; it is not our 
 business ; but he will be none the less active to get the whole family 
 into his power." 
 
 " And you, Nettajee ?" said the Eajah, turning to him. 
 
 " There are five thousand of my best Mawullees sleeping in the 
 thickets east of the fort-gate. They will close in behind the 
 Beejapoor people as they pass, and when we hear the horn, I think, 
 master, few will escape — yes," he continued, fixing his large black 
 eyes on the Rajah, and slightly twisting his moustaches, " few will 
 escape." 
 
 " O, the blind confidence of these Beejapoor swine ! " cried the 
 Rajah, laughing, as he lifted up his hands. " They have neither eyes 
 nor ears, else they had guessed we are not as we seem. But the god- 
 dess Mother has blinded and deafened them, and it is as my mother 
 said it would be." 
 
 " Where is she ? " asked Maloosray ; " she should bless us ere wa 
 go forth." 
 
436 TABA 
 
 " She is in tlie temple, and uneasy. As tlie time comes on, tliey 
 think she will have a visitation, *' he replied. " Ah ! here is some 
 one to tell ns. What news, Bheemee ? " 
 
 " The lady mother is uneasy, Maharaj, and rocking herself to and 
 fro. It is coming on her, and ye should be near to listen." 
 
 "Come, friends, let us go," said the Bajah ; "on this revelation 
 depends my course to-morrow." 
 
 It was but a few step s, and the place is already familiar to us. The 
 low porch and dark vestibule, the small shrine within, from whence 
 a strong light is shining into the gloom, resting sharply upon the 
 figure of the Ranee as she sat before it, not quietly now, as when we 
 saw her once before, but with her shoulders and bosom heaving rapidly, 
 her eyes shut, or if opened for a moment flashing with excitement, 
 her lips trembling and already speckled with foam ; and that pecu- 
 liar sharp, rocking motion of her body, which always preceded the 
 final attack. 
 
 The men stood by reverently. No one dared to speak. The attend- 
 ant Brahmun offered flowers from time to time, and kept up a low 
 chant or incantation, while occasionally he threw grains of coloured 
 rice upon the altar. 
 
 Suddenly the lady stretched forth her arms and shrieked wildly. 
 Maloosray would have rushed forward, but Sivaji held him back. 
 "Wait," he said in a low tone, "no one dares to interrupt her; 
 wouldst thou go to death between her and the Mother ? She will 
 come — listen." 
 
 There was first a low muttering in which nothing could be dis- 
 tinguished ; but words at last followed, to them terrible and awful, 
 as, believing in the dread presence of the goddess, the lady poured 
 them forth with gasps. 
 
 " O, I thirst ! My children were slain — and no one has avenged 
 them. Blood ! blood ! I thirst. I will drink it ! The blood of the 
 cruel — of the cow- slayers ! All, all — the old and the young ; the old 
 woman and the maiden ; the nurse and the child at her breast ; all — 
 aU — all ! " she continued, her voice rising to a scream. " They who 
 love me, kill for me ; for I thirst, — for I thirst now, as I did for the 
 blood of the demons," and the voice again sank to a low whisper 
 which was not audible. 
 
 These words had come from her by spasms, as it were ; painfully, 
 and with much apparent suffering. She shrieked repeatedly as she 
 uttered them, and clutched at the air with a strange convulsive 
 movement of both hands : sometimes as if apparently drawing to her, 
 or again fiercely repelling an object before her. At last she stretched 
 forth her hands and her body, as if following what she saw, and 
 looking vacantly into the space before her with a terrified expression 
 of countenance, the hands fell listlessly on her lap, and her features 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 437 
 
 relaxed into a weary expression, as of one who had endured acute 
 pain. Then she sighed deeply, opened her eyes, looked around, and 
 spoke. " Bheemee, I thirst," she said gently, — " bring me water." 
 
 Sivaji alone had remained with his mother and the Brahmun of 
 the temple, who, as she spoke them, recorded the disconnected 
 sentences. The Bajah's companions, fearless before an enemy, were 
 cowards before the dread presence in which they believed. 
 
 "Ah, thou art here, son," she said, turning to him. "Did I speak? 
 Surely the Mother was with me," and she sighed deeply, again 
 drawing her hand wearily across her eyes. 
 
 " Come and rest, mother," he replied, raising her up and support- 
 ing her tenderly. " Come, thou art weary." 
 
 ''Weary indeed, my son," she said, — " there is no rest for me till 
 all is finished. Come, and I will tell thee everything ; " and he 
 followed her into her own apartments, where she lay down. The 
 attendant brought water, and she drank a deep draught. 
 
 " What did I say, son ?" she continued. " But no matter. It is 
 all blood before me — carnage and victory ! Blood !" she cried ex- 
 citedly, grasping his arm and looking intently into his face. " Art 
 thou ready ? ready for victory ! — ready to cry ' Jey Kalee ! Jey 
 Toolja Mata ! ' " 
 
 '' Beady, mother — yes. There is no failing anywhere. The men 
 are at their posts, and the signals have been decided upon. No one 
 will escape us now." ^ 
 
 "ISTo one will escape," she echoed, — "no one must escape — no — 
 not one — ^not even he." 
 
 " Ah, mother," cried Sivaji, " not so; surely with pledged honour, 
 soldier to a soldier, and a solemn invitation, it could not be." 
 
 " It must be, son," she said gloomily, " else the sacrifice is in- 
 complete and of no avail. Wilt thou risk that for thine own sake — 
 for my sake — ^for the sake of our faith ? I see it all," cried the lady 
 excitedly, " passing before me — a triumph of glory over those 
 defilers of the temples of the gods ; thy rapid rise to power ; the 
 legions of the hateful Mahomedans trampled in the dust by greater 
 legions of thine own. ' Jey Sivaji Bajah ! ' shall be cried from 
 Dehli to Bameshwur.* Wilt thou now turn back ? wilt thou be 
 forsworn to her — to the Mother who is our life ? Wilt thou be as 
 vacillating as thy father? Beware ! thou art more committed to 
 iier than he — and does she spare backsliders ?" 
 
 "He is but one to be spared, mother, and that because of my 
 promise," he pleaded. 
 
 " I tell thee it cannot be, my son. She will have him — the slayer 
 of the priests — the murderer of hundreds of the people about her 
 shrine. And that priest of his who, as all say, led the slaughter^ 
 * The celebrated Hindu temple in the southern point of India. 
 
438 TABA: 
 
 cast down her image, and trampled on it ! O son, canst tlion 
 hesitate ? art thon — so firm and true always^now grown weak ? 
 have I borne one in travail who is degenerate ? Choose then, now 
 — victory and future blessing, or the result which thou knowest, 
 and we all know, if we fail her — the death which must ensue. Both 
 are before thee ; choose, boy ; I can say no more !" and she turned 
 away her face to the wall. 
 
 But she had conquered, for there was no defying her will, — 
 always the mainspring of the Rajah's actions — and, backed by those 
 seemingly divine revelations in which he devoutly believed, he did 
 not resist her. 
 
 "Mother," he said, rising and prostrating himself before her, ^'I 
 know — I feel that the goddess is speaking from thy mouth still.. 
 I hear and obey. Bless me, O my mother, and my hand will be 
 strong ; put thy hands on my head, and the Mother will guide the 
 blow surely." 
 
 " I do bless thee, Sivaji Bhoslay," she returned, placing her hand.s 
 on his head, "in the name of her who directs us, and with her 
 power I endue thee. Gro and fear not, but do her bidding — thou 
 shalt not fail." 
 
 He rose. " I will but speak with Maloosray and dismiss them,"' 
 he said, "and return. Make up a bed for me here, for T would 
 sleep near thee, mother, to-night." 
 
 " Get thee to thy post, Nettajee," he said to Palkur, as he met 
 them without ; "there is no fear now ; victory is with us — she hath 
 said it. Let the men sleep and be ready." 
 
 " And what will you do with him — the Khan ?" asked Maloosray. 
 
 " You will see to-morrow," said Sivaji excitedly. " You will be 
 with me, and will share the danger. This was reserved for you^ 
 O well-tried friend !" 
 
 " Enough," said Maloosray to Palkur ; "let us go, for the master 
 needs rest ;" and, saluting him, they departed. 
 
 Sivaji returned to his mother. A low bed had been prepared in 
 the room, and she was sitting by it. He took off his upper garment 
 and turban, and, having performed his ablutions, lay down, and she 
 patted him gently, as she used to do when he was a child. He 
 would have spoken, but she would not listen, and he urged her to 
 sleep herself, but she would not leave him ; and when the dim light 
 of day broke gently into the chamber, he woke, and found she had 
 not stirred from his side. " Arise," she said, "it is time. Food i& 
 prepared for thee. Eat, and go forth to victory ! " 
 
 He obeyed her ; bathed, worshipped earnestly in the temple, and 
 ate heartily. Then he returned to her, and, in the simple words of 
 the old Mahratta Chronicle, " laid his head at his mother's feet, and 
 ** besought a blessing. He then arose, put on a steel cap, and 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 439 
 
 *' chain armour, wliicli was concealed under a thickly-quilted cotton 
 " gown ; and, taking a crooked dagger wliicli lie hid under his sleeve, 
 " and the ' tiger's claws ' ^ in his right hand, he girded his loins, and 
 " went out." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXYIII. 
 
 The morning broke, calm and beautiful. Long before the highest 
 peaks of the mountains blushed under the rosy light which preceded 
 the sum-ise, the Khan and Fazil, with Zyna, had risen and performed 
 their morning prayer. The deep booming sound of the kettledrums 
 woke the echoes around, and reverberated from side to side of the 
 valley, retiring to recesses among the glens, and murmuring softly 
 as it died away among the distant peaks and precipices. As yet, the 
 valley was partially filled with mists, which clung to its wooded sides ; 
 but as the sun rose, a slight wind sprang up with it, which, breaking 
 through these mists, drove them up the mountain, and displayed the 
 scenery in all its fresh morning beauty, as though a curtain had been 
 suddenly drawn from before it. 
 
 Behind them were the stupendous mountains of the Maha-bul-eshwur 
 range ; before, at a short distance, and divided from them by a chain 
 of smaller hills, rose up the precipices of Pertabgurh, glittering in the 
 morning light, and crowned by the walls and bastions of the fortress. 
 
 Long before daylight the lady Lurlee had risen, and, careful for 
 her husband, had, in conjunction with Kurreema, cooked his 
 favourite dish of kicheri and kabobs. " It was a light breakfast," 
 she said, " and would agree with them better than a heavier repast, 
 and dinner would be ready when they returned." So Afzool Khan, 
 his son, and the priest, ate their early meal, not only in joyful anti- 
 cipation of a speedy return, but of accomplishing what would result 
 in honour to all concerned. 
 
 They remembered afterwards, that as an attendant brought before 
 the Khan the usual mail shirt he wore, and the mail-cap, with its 
 bright steel chains, over which his turban was usually tied when fully 
 accoutred, he laughingly declined both. "They will be very hot and 
 uncomfortable," he said, "and we are not going to fight. No, give 
 me a muslin dress," which he put on. A few words about ordinary 
 household matters to Lurlee, a few cheering sentences to Zyna, as 
 he passed from the inner and private enclosure of the tent, and he 
 went out among the men. 
 
 Fazil followed, fully armed and accoutred for riding. There had 
 been a good-humoured strife between Fazil and the priest the night 
 
 * A treaclierous and deadly weapon, in the shape of tiger's claws, which, 
 fitted on the fingers, shuts into the hand. 
 
440 TAEA 
 
 before, as to who should be the one armed follower to accompany his 
 father, and he had chosen the priest. " Fazil was too young yet," he 
 said, " to enter into grave political discussions with wily Mahrattas, 
 and would be better with the escort." So the soldier-priest, like the 
 Khan, discarding the steel cap, gauntlets, and quilted armour in 
 which he usually accoutred himself — appeared, like Af zool Khan, in 
 the plain muslin dress of his order ; and having tied up his waist 
 with a shawl, and thrown another over his shoulders, stuck a light 
 court sword into his waist-band, which he pressed down on his hips 
 with a jaunty air, and called merrily to Fazil, to see how peacefully 
 he was attired. 
 
 The escort awaited them in the camp, and the spirited horses of 
 fifteen hundred gallant cavaliers were neighing and tossing their heads 
 as Afzool Khan, Fazil, and the priest rode up. " Forward ! " cried 
 the Khan cheerily; and as the kettledrums beat a march, the several 
 officers saluted their commander, and, wheeling up their men, led 
 them by the road pointed out by the Brahmuns and guides in the 
 direction of Pertabgurh. 
 
 At that time, single men, who looked like shepherds tending sheep, 
 and who were standing on crests of the hills, or crouching so as not 
 to be seen, passed a signal that the Khan and his party had set out. 
 It was still early, and the time when, of all others perhaps, armies 
 such as the Khan's, were most defenceless. Many, roused for a 
 while by the assembly and departure of the escort, had gone to sleep 
 again ; others, sitting over embers of fires, were smoking, preparing 
 to cook their morning repast, or were attending to their horses, or in 
 the bazar purchasing the materials for their day's meal. The camp 
 was watched from the woods around by thousands of armed men, 
 who, silently and utterly unobserved, crept over the crests of the 
 hills, and lay down in the thick brushwood which fringed the plain. 
 
 As the Khan's retinue neared the fort, parties of armed men, ap- 
 parently stationed by the roadside to salute him as he passed, closed 
 up in rear of the escort ; and others, moving parallel to them in the 
 thickets, joined with them unseen. Quickly, too, men with axes 
 felled large trees, which were thrown down so as to cross the road, 
 and interlaced their branches so as to be utterly impassable for horse- 
 men ; and all these preparations went on in both places silently^^? 
 methodically, and with a grim surety of success, imparting a con- 
 fidence which all who remembered it afterwards attributed to the 
 direction of the goddess whom they worshipped. As it was said 
 then, as it is still said, and sung in many a ballad, "not a man's hand 
 failed, not a foot stumbled." 
 
 At the gate of the fort the Khan dismounted from his horse, and 
 entered his palankeen. Before he did so, however, he embraced his 
 son, and bid him be careful of the men, and that no one entered the 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 441" 
 
 town or gave offence. He could see, looking up, the thatched pavilion 
 on the little level shoulder of the mountain, and pointed to it cheer- 
 fully. " It is not far to go, Huzrut," he said to the Peer, " I may as 
 well walk with these good friends," and he pointed to the Brahmuns 
 who attended him. But Fazil would not allow it, nor the Peer either. 
 "You must go in state," they said, "as the representative of the King 
 ought to do," and he then took his seat in the litter. 
 
 " Khoda Hafiz — may God protect you, father !" said Fazil, as he 
 bent his head into the palankeen, when the bearers took it up; "come 
 back happily, and do not delay !'* 
 
 " Inshalla !" said the Khan smilingly, " fear not, I will not delay, 
 and thou canst watch me up yonder." So he went on, the priest's 
 hand leaning upon the edge of the litter as he walked by its side. 
 
 On through the town, from the terraced houses of which, crowds 
 of women looked down on the little procession, and men, mostly un- 
 armed, or unremarkable in any case, saluted them, or regarded them 
 with clownish curiosity. No one could see that the court of every 
 house behind, was filled with armed men thirsting for blood, and 
 awaiting the signal to attack. 
 
 The Khan's agent, Puntojee Gopinath, being a fat man, had left 
 word at the gate which defended the entrance of the road to the fort, 
 that he had preceded the Khan, and would await him at the pavilion. 
 He had seen no one since the night before, and he knew only that the 
 Khan would come to meet the Rajah. That was all he had stipulated 
 for, and his part was performed. He believed that Sivaji would seize 
 Afzool Khan, and hold him a hostage for the fulfilment of all his 
 demands ; and the line of argument in his own mind was, that if the 
 Khan resisted, and was hurt in the fray which might ensue, it was 
 no concern of his. But he did not know the Rajah's intention, nor 
 did the Rajah's two Brahmuns who had ascended with him ; and 
 they all three now sat down together upon the knoll, waiting the 
 coming of Afzool Khan from below, and the Rajah from above. 
 
 As the agreement had specified, except one each, there were to be 
 no armed men : no other people were present but one, who seemed 
 to be a labourer, who was tying up a rough mat to the side of the 
 pavilion to keep out the wind and sun. Gopinath looked from time 
 to time up the mountain-road, and again down to the town, specula- 
 ting upon the cause of delay in the Rajah's coming ; and the othei^ 
 told him he would not leave the fort till the Khan had arrived below, 
 and showed him a figure standing upon the edge of the large bastion 
 which overhung the precipice above, relieved sharply against the 
 clear sky, which was fronting towards the quarter by which the 
 Elian's retinue should come, and apparently giving signals to others 
 behind him. 
 
 " Your master is coming," said the Secretary, "they see him from 
 
442 TAEA .» 
 
 above ;" and, almost as lie spoke, the bright glinting of steel caps 
 and lance-heads, with a confused mass of horsemen, appeared on the 
 road to the fort, among the trees, and they sat and watched them 
 come on. Then the force halted in the open space before the outer 
 gate, where the Khan's little procession formed, and entered the town* | 
 After that, the houses and the trees of the mountain-side concealed ^ 
 them. How beautiful was the scene ! 
 
 The wind had died awaj, and the sun shone with a blaze of heat 
 unknown elsewhere, striking down among those moist narrow valleys 
 with a power which would have been painful, but for the cool refresh- 
 ing air by which it was tempered. The distant mountains glowed 
 under the e:ffect of the trembling exhalations, which, rising now 
 unseen, tempered the colours of the distance to that tender blue and 
 grey which melts into the tint of the sky. The rugged precipices 
 above were softened in effect ; and the heavy masses of foliage, fes- 
 toons of creepers, and the dense woods, rich in colour, combined to 
 enhance the wonderful beauty of the spot. There was perfect silence, 
 except the occasional monotonous drumming notes of woodpeckers 
 in the glens, and the shrill chirrup of tree- crickets which occasionally 
 broke out and was again silent. 
 
 In a few minutes, the shouts of the Khan's palankeen-bearers were 
 heard below, and the litter suddenly emerged from a turn in the road, 
 being pushed on by the combined efforts of the men. The Brahmun's 
 heart bounded when he saw the figure of the priest beside the litter, 
 holding to it, and pressing up the ascent vigorously. "Will he 
 escape ? " he said mentally ; " the Mother forbid it, — let her take 
 him !" A few more steps, and the palankeen was at the knoll ; it 
 was set down, and the Khan's shoes being placed for him by a bearer, 
 he put his feet into them and got out, speaking to the priest, who 
 was panting with his exertion. 
 
 "Is he not here, Puntojee?" cried the Khan to the Brahmun, 
 who saluted him respectfully. 
 
 " JSTo, my lord, not yet. Ah ! look," he continued, as he turned 
 towards the pass, " there are two men on the path, and that one, the 
 smallest, is he." 
 
 The men coming down appeared to hesitate, and waved their hands, 
 as if warning of£ some one. 
 
 "It is the bearers," said one of Sivaji's Secretaries. " The Rajah 
 is timid, and fears the crowd he sees." 
 
 ^ The Khan laughed. " Good," he said to the men. " Go away; 
 sit down yonder in the shade. You will be called when I want you;" 
 and as they got up and retired, the two men advanced slowly and 
 cautiously down the pathway. 
 
 Afzool Khan went forward a few paces as Sivaji and Maloosray 
 came up. " You are welcome, Rajah Sahib. Embrace me," he said 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 44a 
 
 to vSiyaji. " Let there be no doubt between us ;" and he stretched 
 forth his arms in the usual manner. 
 
 Sivaji stooped to the embrace; and as the Khan's arms were laid upon 
 his shoulders, and he was thus unprotected, struck the sharp deadly- 
 tiger's- claw dagger deeply into his bowels, seconding the blow with 
 one from the other dagger which he had concealed in his left hand. 
 
 Afzool Khan reeled and staggered under the deadly wounds. 
 " Dog of a Kafir!" he cried, pressing one hand to the wound, while 
 he drew the sword he wore with the other, and endeavoured to 
 attack the Rajah. Alas ! what use now were those feeble blows 
 against concealed armour ? Faint and sick, the Khan reeled hither 
 and thither, striking vainly against the Rajah, who, with the terrible 
 sword now in his hand, and crying the national shout of "Hur, Hur, 
 Mahadeo!" rained blow upon blow on his defenceless enemy. It 
 was an unequal strife, soon finished. Falling heavily, Afzool Khan 
 died almost as he reached the earth. 
 
 Meanwhile, Maloosray had attacked the priest with all his force 
 and skill, but the Peer was a good swordsman, and for a short time 
 held his ground. Neither spoke, except in muttered curses, as blows 
 were struck ; but Tannajee Maloosray had no equal in his weapon, 
 and as he cried to the Rajah, who was advancing to his aid, to keep 
 back — the priest, distracted by the assault of another enemy, received 
 his death-blow, and sank to the ground. 
 
 " Jey Kalee ! " shouted both. "Now, blow loud and shrill, Grunnoo, 
 for thy life," continued the Rajah, " and thou shalt have a collar of 
 gold." 
 
 The man who had appeared to be a labourer, seized his horn, which 
 had been concealed in the grass, and blew a long note, with a shrill 
 quivering flourish at the close, which resounded through the air, and 
 echoed among the mountains ; and thrice repeated the signal. 
 
 Then a great puff of smoke, followed by a report which thundered 
 through the valley, burst from the bastion above. Those who were 
 looking from the fort, and the Rajah himself, who ran to the edge of 
 the knoll, saw the wreaths of fire which burst from the thickets about 
 the plain where the Mahomedan cavalry stood, and a sharp irregular 
 crash of matchlock shots came up from below, and continued. 
 Hundreds died at every volley, and there were writhing, struggling 
 masses of horses and men on the plain — loose horses careering about; 
 and some men still mounted, strove to pierce the barriers which had 
 been made on every side, crowded on each other, and, falling fast, 
 became inextricable. Soon, too, the Mawullees, under Nettajee 
 Palkur, emerged sword in hand from their ambush, and attacked 
 those who survived. Some escaped ; but of the fifteen hundred men 
 who had ridden there in their pride that morning, few lived to tell 
 the tale. 
 
444 TABA : 
 
 ' Moro Trimmul liad taken up liis position over night on a hill 
 overlooking the main camp of Afzool Khan's army. A few boughs 
 placed together formed a cover and screen on a high knoll, which 
 commanded a view of the camp beneath, and of the summit of the 
 fort whence his signal was to come. He sat there watching, and 
 observed the force below, careless, without a guard, without weapons 
 — the men sitting idly, wandering about, or cooking, as it might be. 
 Every moment seemed interminable ; and the eyes of those who 
 looked with him were strained towards the fort. 
 
 " One," he cried at last, as the first pu:ff of bright smoke burst from 
 the bastion — " two — three — four — five ! Enough. It is complete, 
 my friends. Now, cry 'Hur, Hur, Mahadeo !' and upon them. 
 Spare no one ! Come, friends, let us sack the Khan's tents first, 
 -where I have some work of my own to do." 
 
 "Beware," said an elderly officer, who stood near him — "beware, 
 Moro Pundit, of the master, if thou disobey him in this. He will suffer 
 no insult to the women." 
 
 "Tooh ! " cried Moro Trimmul, spitting contemptously, " I am a 
 Brahmun, and he dare not interfere with me. Come ! " 
 
 Ten thousand throats were crying the battle-cry of the Hetkurees, 
 as they burst from the thickets upon the bewildered army. Why 
 follow them ? In a few hours there was a smell of blood ascending 
 to the sky, and vultures — scenting it from their resting-places on 
 the precipices of the mountains, and from their soaring stations in the 
 clouds — were fast descending upon the plain in hideous flocks. 
 
 Shortly after the Khan had left — he could scarcely have reached 
 the fort-— two figures, a man and a boy, ran rapidly across the camp 
 at their utmost speed towards the Khan's tents — they were the 
 hunchback and Ashruf . When Fazil had dismissed them, the night 
 before, they had taken the read to Wye ; and immediately beyond 
 the confines of the camp, where the road ascended a rocky pass, had 
 been seized by the Mahratta pickets posted there. In vain they urged 
 they were but Dekhan ballad-singers ; they were not released. " Ye 
 shall sing for us to-morrow," they said, "when we have made the 
 sacrifice, the ballads of the goddess at Tooljapoor;" and, bound 
 together, they lay by the tree where the party of men was stationed. 
 There they heard all, but were helpless. 
 
 "Ah, masters," said Lukshmun, as daylight broke, "unbind us; 
 we are stiff with the cold ; we will not run away ; and I will sing 
 you the morning hymn of the goddess, as the Brahmuns sing it at 
 Tooljapoor. See, my arms are swelled, and the boy's too." 
 
 " Loose him, brother," said one of the men, " we shall soon now 
 have the signal. Wait you here," he added, as Lukshmun finished 
 the chant, " and we will fill your pouches with Beejapoor rupees 
 when we come back." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 445^ 
 
 "Alas ! " said the Imiicliback, with a rueful face, "this little brother 
 came from Wye last night, to say my elder brother, Rama, was dead. 
 Good sirs, let me go and bury him," and he began to sob bitterly. 
 
 "Let them go, Nowla," said another of the men; " they will be 
 only in our way ; we can't stop to guard them." 
 
 " My blessings on ye, gentlemen ! Only let us go now, and we will 
 come to you and sing congratulations when you have won the 
 victory," said Lukshmun humbly. 
 
 " Go," said the men, " but do not return to camp, else we will slay 
 you if we see you there." 
 
 " They will die, or worse," said the hunchback, whispering to 
 Ashruf, " for Moro Trimmul is the leader here. Come, let us save 
 the Khan's wife and the lady Zyna," and they turned into the- 
 jungle in the direction of the camp. 
 
 The boy was bold and quick-witted. As they ran on, " I can get 
 into the zenana," he said, " under the tent wall, and perhaps we can 
 make them change clothes, and fly — but if they stay ? " 
 
 "I will get the ponies ready," replied the other, and they ran the 
 faster over the plain, unperceived. 
 
 They reached the tents, and the boy entered as he said. Who 
 would believe them ? Zyna heard the tale with sickening dread, 
 and Lurlee, assured by the others, at first disbelieved him, and 
 threatened him with stripes. The women-servants crowded around,, 
 and some began to shriek, and were with difficulty pacified ; others 
 mocked him and turned away. Still the boy urged : and the hunch- 
 back, desperate, and dreading the delay, now found his way into the 
 enclosure, and prostrated himself before them. 
 
 "I know the country," he said : " fly ! take what jewels you can 
 carry, and come. God be with them, lady ! " he continued, as Zyna 
 and Lurlee cried aloud for their husband and brother — " God be 
 with them ! they are mounted and will escape, and we may yet 
 meet ; but stay not here, else ye will die, or be dishonoured, and the 
 Khan will kill me." 
 
 Then another voice was heard without, shouting. It was Shere 
 Khan, who had been left in charge of the private camp. " Go ! " he 
 cried, " I see men moving in the woods, and there is confusion and 
 treachery." And others said the same. Then, too, they heard the 
 five guns of the fort, and there broke from the mountains around a 
 hoarse roar of voices, " Hur, Hur, Mahadeo ! " 
 
 This decided them. A hurried change of clothes, some coarse 
 garments thrown over them, and the ponies being led within the 
 enclosure, the ladies were lifted on them and carried out. O, to see 
 the stupid misery of those women ! Hitherto secluded, they could 
 understand nothing ; they had no power to resist ; and why they 
 should be taken out among men, when the shouts and screams of the 
 
446 TABA 
 
 camp were growing wilder every moment, they could not understand. 
 So they wrung tlieir hands in speechless terror. 
 
 " Come with the ladies, Shere Khan," cried Lukshmun; ''come, 
 save thyself, old man ! " 
 
 " No," he replied sadly ; " my time is come, and the sherbet of 
 death will be sweet. Go thou, and all of ye who can," he added to 
 those who had gathered with the women. " Quick ! quick ! else it 
 will be too late." 
 
 The shouts of " Hur, Hur, Mahadeo ! " were already mingling on 
 the confines of the camp with the battle-cries of the Moslems, who 
 had rallied in small parties, and the flood of attack was there stayed 
 for a little : this saved the fugitives. Close by the enclosure of tent 
 walls ran the rivulet, and its banks were high and covered with 
 brushwood on the sides, which concealed the party. Lukshmun, 
 with a true freebooter's instinct, led Zyna's pony down the bank, 
 accompanied by some of the terrified women-servants, and Lurlee 
 followed. So they proceeded at a rapid pace down the stream, 
 meeting no one, and concealed from view. 
 
 They heard the hideous din of shouts, screams, and shots increase 
 behind them, but it gradually softened with distance, and in a little 
 time Lukshmun turned up the sandy bed of a tributary brook, on 
 the sides of which the jungle was thicker, while the bed was narrower 
 and more tortuous ; and, bidding every one tread only in the shallow 
 stream which flowed in the midst, in order to afford no traces of 
 footsteps, he hurried on, still leading Zyna's pony by the bridle. 
 " Fear not, lady," he said confidently, — " the worst is past, and God 
 will be merciful; fear not." 
 
 In the camp there was but a short resistance. On the one hand, 
 the desperate valour of the mountain soldiery, the certainty of plunder, 
 revenge for Tooljapoor, and the example of Moro Trimmul and other 
 leaders ; and on the other, the helpless, disorganized, bewildered 
 mass before them, rendered the assault irresistible. The first attack- 
 ing bodies were succeeded by mass upon mass of fresh assailants 
 from all quarters, and these successive tides of men surged resist- 
 lessly across the camp, overwhelming all. 
 
 When Moro Trimmul and his party reached the Khan's tents, they 
 found no one. The tracks of the ponies, where they had descended 
 the bank, were, however, visible, and were taken up by his followers, 
 who dashed forward like bloodhounds on a scent. " Away after 
 them, Kakrey ! " cried the Brahmun to a subordinate officer. " Thou 
 art a better tracker than I. Bring them to me, — then," he added to 
 himself, " Fazil Khan, we will see who wins the game, — ^you or L'' 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 447 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIX. 
 
 The ambassador's family, witli wliom Tara had received protection, 
 liad arrived at Pertabgurh the day before the events related in the 
 last chapter. At Wye some traces of her mother's family, the 
 Durpeys, had been found, but they were now residing at or near 
 Poena : it wonld require several days to communicate with them ; 
 and a much longer period for them, or any one of them, to come 
 for Tara and take her away. Meanwhile, therefore, there was no 
 resource but to stay where she was, and to endure, what was daily 
 becoming more and more insupportable. 
 
 Personally, Govind Rao, the Envoy, was kind to her, and con- 
 tinually renewed his offers of assistance and protection ; but from 
 his sister, the widow Pudma Bye, Tara had to endure insult and ill- 
 usage, from which the Envoy's wife was unable to save her. Few, 
 indeed, in the house, chose to risk the bitterness of Pudma's tongue, 
 or the virulence of her spite. Her brother even feared her, and 
 avoided her as much as possible. 
 
 So she employed herself in ascetic penances and religious exercises, 
 fasted long and often, and mortified herself in various ingenious ways, 
 with a view to establishing a character for sanctity which should 
 make her famous. As might be supposed, she, the general dis- 
 tributor of the family alms, had many friends among the priestly 
 Brahmuns, who attended the house and partook of her brother's 
 charity ; and it was an object with many, by flattering her vanity, 
 to make those alms as large as possible, and to induce her to under- 
 take ceremonies which could not be performed without priestly aid, 
 and, necessarily, money. 
 
 The chief of these priests was one Wittul Shastree, an elderly man 
 of grave aspect, but with a hard expression of countenance, which 
 might proceed from austerity or avarice, or both combined. He was 
 the agent or commissary of the prince superior of the Brahmuns of 
 the province, and held authority sufficient for the disposal of cases 
 of heretical error, misconduct as to caste affairs, and other matters 
 of religious discipline. On grave occasions of ceremony he directed 
 these proceedings, and, in virtue of his office, was in proportion 
 feared by all who might by any possibility come under his influence 
 or power. 
 
 Tara's presence in the family could not be kept a secret. The fact 
 of a widow existing there who wore silken garments and jewels, and 
 who had not her head shaved, was an infringement of caste dis- 
 cipline which required prompt investigation; and as the Envoy 
 arrived at the fort, the Shastree betook himself to Pudma Bye, as 
 well to receive the donations which were his due since she had 
 been absent, as to make inquiry. 
 
448 TAEA 
 
 The Envoy himself was absent at the Rajah's Kncheri. Amba 
 Bye was busy arranging her house after her long absence, and Tara 
 was assisting her with an alacrity and intelligence which at once 
 surprised and gratified her. On her own part, the worthy good- 
 natured dame was not slow in evincing warm affection : which had 
 arisen out of the helpless condition of Tara on the one hand, and the 
 loving confidence which she had displayed on the first evening of 
 their companionship. 
 I Ah ! it was a cruel struggle for the poor girl. Perhaps we, who 
 ! belong to another creed and faith, can hardly estimate it. And yet 
 ' the springs and motives of human action have parallels so close- 
 everywhere, that we can at least follow the events which had to be 
 endured, alike without aid, and without sympathy. 
 ' Poor Tara ! could she deny herself the secret contemplation of the 
 noble youth who, she knew, was her lover ? Could she forget the sweet 
 companionship of Zyna, the rough but loving caresses of the Khan'» 
 wife, and the hearty greeting of the Khan himself ? Alas, no ! it 
 was impossible, and yet all these were [in direct antagonism with 
 her own creed, with the people of her own faith. What had she 
 been taught to believe, but that Brahmuns were the gods of the earth 
 — divine emanations, incapable of sin, and only resting here for a 
 while in expiation of the errors of former births, till they were 
 absorbed again into divinity, as a drop of rain-water in the sea, or 
 as the sparks falling back into the fire ! 
 
 She herself was a Brahmun of the highest rank and caste : the 
 very idea of a Mussulman should have been abhorrent and repellant 
 to her. Was it so ? Alas, no ! She, an orphan as she believed her- 
 self, had felt her sorrow soothed, and her honour powerfully pro- 
 tected : she had been received into loving communion with a noble 
 family : she could not help contrasting their soft polished manners 
 with the rude homely speech and rough demeanour of those with 
 whom she now was — far ruder among those mountains, than even 
 among the people of her own town. 
 
 Again, and far above all, that portion of the old old story which 
 she had heard and believed, when she knew herself to be beloved, 
 would not be forgotten. It lay at her heart, rankling sometimes 
 and chafing, because so impossible — and again was remembered in a 
 sweet confidence which, though more impossible, was yet inexpres- 
 sibly soothing. "He will remember me — he now thinks of me," 
 she would say to herself in the lonely night, when ofttimes a bitter 
 cry was rung from her, which no one knew of; "and he would 
 take me away if he could — ah yes ! he would have done it — if he 
 could." 
 
 From the first moment antipathy was conceived against Tara by 
 Pudma Bye, that virtuous lady had continued to brood over it with 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 449 
 
 increasing dislike to her. She had tried to excite in her brother 
 abhorrence for Tara's condition ; and, failing that, in Amba Bye, 
 with whom she had as little success. Both believed Tara to be a 
 priestess of the goddess whom they feared. The Envoy had tested 
 her knowledge of sacred books, which was nearly equal to his own, 
 for he did not pretend, he said, to be a scholar ; and in several dis- 
 putations with other Brahmuns who, attracted by the news of Tara's 
 learning, had come to hear her read and recite what she knew, she 
 had acquitted herself with favourable impressions upon all. But 
 the woman's hatred of the girl's beauty, and her ascetic austerity, 
 which would have made Tara like herself, could not be controlled ; 
 and, under the influence of the Shastree, was likely to have full 
 scope. 
 
 But Wittul Shastree could not restrain himself ; and, unable to 
 get speech of the master and mistress of the house, Pudma Bye 
 was resorted to — a willing communicator of all that she herself 
 thought, all that she had said and argued, and all that she had 
 heard of Tara's sojourn with the impure Mussulmans. As for her- 
 self, she did not, she said, believe Tara's story of Moro Trimmul's 
 outrage ; she, on the contrary, believed what he said, that it was a 
 meritorious attempt to withdraw her from a scandalous position — • 
 scandalous alike to herself and to the faith. 
 
 The Shastree's mind was at once made up as to his course. 
 There had been several offensive stories current in regard to young 
 widows lately, and not without reason : and they had escaped his 
 punishment. This at least was sure — the Envoy dare not deny, 
 and could not evade his power ; and if Tara appealed to the Rajah 
 himself, it would be on a point of caste discipline with which he — 
 Rajah though he was — would not dare to interfere. 
 
 " Let us hear her first," he said to the lady, as, having listened 
 to Pudma Bye's account of Tara, he sat in the outer verandah of 
 the house the morning after their arrival, while Tara was within ; 
 ** wilt thou call her, daughter ? we should not judge unheard." 
 
 Poor Tara's heart failed her sadly when Pudma called her. She 
 clung to Amba Bye instinctively, trembling as she saw the priest 
 sitting without, and protested against meeting him. *' He is a 
 stranger to me ; what have I to do with him ? " she said. *'Let 
 me go away. I am not his to be questioned, but the Mother's at 
 Tooljapoor." 
 
 "Gro," whispered Amba Bye to her; "he is all-powerful here, — 
 over the Rajah, over my husband, over all. Go, tell him the truth. 
 I will not leave thee. Go, Tara." 
 
 " Wilt thou now screen her, sister ? " cried Pudma Bye, in a 
 shrill voice, and stretching out her bare skinny arms to Tara. " Is 
 her shame to be our shame — we that have no spot or stain upon us ? 
 
 2 o 
 
450 TABA : 
 
 If thou art bewitclied, I, that perform tlie nine penances daily, 
 should not be exposed to this ! Come, girl ! it is pollution to touch 
 thee — nevertheless, come, else I will, drag thee to him." 
 
 " Go ! " cried Amba, frightened at the other's voice of threat and 
 scorn combined, of which she had had long and sad experience in 
 the house. '' I dare not keep thee now, — she is terrible. Go, Tara, 
 and answer what they ask thee. Say the truth and the Mother 
 Avill hear thee. O, that my lord were here ! O, that he were here ! " 
 and she sat down, sobbing and wringing her hands helplessly. 
 
 " Come," cried Pudma, as, seizing Tara by the arm, she pulled 
 her forward. "Art thou a child, to be ashamed, — thou that art a 
 Moorlee ? " 
 
 Tara's limbs trembled so that she could hardly move. 
 "Ah, Mother," she prayed silently, " I am not false to thee yet; 
 let me not be tried more than I can bear. I will go, even to death, 
 but not to shame. O Mother, not to shame ! Let me go, lady," 
 she continued to Pudma Bye, "I will follow thee." 
 
 She did so, and, bending down submissively before the priest, 
 stood up with her hands joined in an attitude of supplication. 
 For a moment the stern man's features relaxed into an expression 
 almost of kindness, certainly of extreme interest. The youth of the 
 girl, her gentle grace, the sad but beautiful expression of her face — 
 above all, its purity of expression — sent conviction to his heart that 
 there was no room for calumny, none even for suspicion. 
 
 Pudma saw the hesitation, and, herself resolute, resumed rapidly 
 and passionately — 
 
 " Is that a figure to be a widow and a priestess — that thing with 
 a golden zone, and necklaces and ear-rings, and a silken garment 
 like a harlot ? Is that a widow who daily combs her hair, braids it, 
 puts sweet flowers and oils into it, decking it for a lover ? O Shas- 
 tree, is that what a virtuous widow should be ? Is that a condition 
 of penance and austere privation whereby to inherit life eternal ? " 
 
 The Shastree's features changed rapidly. " It cannot be," he 
 said; " such adornment and beauty is not of a virtuous woman. 
 Now I believe thee, sister, and thy brother must be spoken to. He 
 cannot keep a thing so offensive in his house, and be among us." 
 
 "Hear me, my lord," said Tara, appealing to him piteously. **I 
 am pure — I have done no evil — I am an orphan and a Moorlee, but 
 not as others ; such as I am, the holy Bhartee Swami, whom I have 
 served hitherto, hath made me. Write to him if you will- 
 
 " What is this ?" said Govind Rao, who entered at the moment, 
 interrupting her; "what art thou asking of her, friend? Let her 
 alone ; she is my care." 
 
 "Look," returned the other, rising, "if thou art satisfied to have 
 one like that remaining in thy house, the Swami must know of it, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 451 
 
 and there will be a fine, and shame will come to thee among the 
 council. If she be a widow, let her be treated as widows should be. 
 If " 
 
 " If I am a Moorlee of the goddess, as je call me," said Tara, 
 interposing, "I am already shameless in your eyes, and no widow: 
 let me go. No Moorlee is asked what she does, or what she wears. 
 The Mother will not have those near her who are disfigured, and I 
 cannot break the vow I have made to her ; she would destroy me." 
 
 Panting and excited, flushed with the desperation of her speech, 
 Tara stood erect, with her eyes flashing, her glowing beauty exciting 
 the involuntary admiration of the men, and the virulent hatred of 
 the woman who sat with them. 
 
 " See, brother!" cried Pudma Bye, "look at the witch — look at 
 her glowing eyes. It was by these shameless eyes that she won 
 men's hearts at Tooljapoor. Beware ! beware of yourselves, lest ye 
 too fall ! Ah ! " she continued with a scream, " put her away — kill 
 her ; but let her not go — Brahmun as she is — to the cow-slayers ! " 
 
 "Peace," said her brother; " why this spite, Pudma? what hath 
 she done to thee ? Peace, and begone to the inner rooms. Begone! " 
 he cried in a louder tone, and stamping his foot, " begone ! Dost 
 thou not hear?" 
 
 "I hear," she replied doggedly; "but I will not go, unless the 
 Shastree bid me. Choose now between us : send me out of thy 
 house to thy shame, and keep her, to thy worse shame ; or send her 
 away. There can be no compromise between good and evil, shame 
 and dishonour." 
 
 "She speaks truly, friend," said the Shastree mildly. "It must 
 be done. How do we know she is a priestess ? " 
 
 Tara had not entirely lost the presence of mind which she naturally 
 possessed, though she found it failing rapidly. " Put me to the 
 proof," she said quickly, — "the proof. If there be a temple of the 
 Mother's here, let me sit in it before her a night and a day — haply 
 she may come to her child, as she did at Tooljapoor. Ye can watch 
 me too, there. If she come not — then she hath abandoned me, and 
 ye can kill me if ye please, sirs ; better ye did so, for I am indeed 
 friendless." 
 
 " Not so," cried the widow ; " thou hast friends, Tara, many and 
 powerful — myself the greatest of all ; but — not as thou art. Choose ! '* 
 
 " I have chosen, lady," said the girl sadly. " Take me to the 
 temple now — even now, — and leave me there. A vessel of water is 
 enough, and a woman to watch me at night, if ye will not watch 
 yourselves. I have already eaten, and want no food. I would go to 
 the Mother." 
 
 "It is some device, brother," said Pudma suspiciously; "some 
 device to fly, to escape, or " 
 
452 TABA : 
 
 He smiled and shook Ms head. " It requires a braver heart than 
 a girl's to face the mountain-paths alone at night among the bears- 
 and the panthers, sister, and nought but a bird could escape down 
 the precipices. Why these unjust suspicions? Art thou ready, 
 Tara ? If so, follow me, and thou too, Shastree ; we will settle this 
 matter at once. There is no one now in the Rajah's temple. He 
 has already paid his devotions, and is preparing to meet the Khan. 
 Come, the ordinary priests are there, and there is no fear of her. 
 Come, Tara, fear not. If thou art true, the Mother will defend thee. 
 Dost thou trust her, girl ? " 
 
 " Take me to her," she replied. *' I have no refuge but with her. 
 I am ready." Then she turned to embrace Amba Bye, who now 
 entered sobbing, and fell upon her neck. 
 
 " I will come to thee by-and-by," she whispered. "It is but a step, 
 and I will watch with thee at night. I have a vow to pay to the 
 Mother. Go with my husband." 
 
 "We know the place already. It was where Sivaji's mother had 
 sat. A few w^ords to the attendant priest by Govind Rao and the 
 Shastree, explained the ordeal to which Tara had voluntarily sub« 
 jected herself, and she was permitted to approach the shrine and 
 make her obeisance and offerings. They watched her, and saw that 
 she did her office as one used to the duty ; and when it was finished^ 
 she went before the shrine, sat down, and began to chant the 
 morning hymn of the goddess in low and sweet tones, rocking her- 
 self to and fro. 
 
 "There can be no doubt of this, Shastree," said Govind Rao, — 
 " she is what she tells us." 
 
 *' She may be," he replied, " but till the goddess comes into her 
 and speaks by her mouth, she may not be fully believed. Let us 
 leave her," and they went. 
 
 Tara grew absorbed in her devotion : she noticed no one. By* 
 and-by a gun was fired from a tower near her, and four others 
 followed. Then a pause ensued, and the priest fed the lamps with 
 fresh oil, tinkled the bell on the shrine, and poured libations to the 
 image, renewing these ceremonies with much earnestness. Tara 
 scarcely noticed them, for though it was broad noonday without, it 
 was dusk within the closed vestibule. By-and-by a girl, bearing a 
 tray of lighted lamps, and garlands of flowers, entered, but so that 
 her face could not be seen, and, delivering some to the priest, began 
 a ceremony herself, which was strangely familiar; and as Tara 
 turned her head for an instant, she saw that it was Gunga, and that 
 she herself was recognized. 
 
 ^ Gunga clapped her hands with joy. "At last," she cried ex- 
 citedly, "at last ! See, I am worshipping for the victory which he 
 has gained by this time. Hush ! thou wilt see Zyna here presently. 
 
A MAHEATTA TALE, 453 
 
 Moro will bring her captive ; then there will be three with him — I, 
 and thou, and she. Ha, ha, ha ! a merry three, girl. Dost thou 
 hear, O Tara ?'* But some strange chill had struck at Tara's heart, 
 and, sinking down on the floor, for a time she was insensible. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX. 
 
 Gunga's appearance is easily explained. On his arrival at Pertabgurh 
 Moro Trimmul had been sent to bring up some of the Rajah's Het- 
 kurees from the Concan, the tract below the mountains next the 
 sea, and he had besought the post of honour in the ensuing attack 
 upon the Mussulman camp, which had been granted to him. 
 
 In this he had two motives : the one, personal distinction, and the 
 desire of retaliation for Tooljapoor, which was shared commonly 
 with all Brahmuns ; and, secondly, and probably most urgent, the 
 desire of revenge upon Fazil Khan, and, if possible, the capture of 
 his sister and family. That either Afzool Khan or his son would 
 survive the fight, he did not think possible, or if they escaped death, 
 and were captured, that they would be spared. 
 
 Of the Rajah's intentions in regard to the Khan, he had no idea ; 
 and when Maloosray and Palkur were with their prince on the 
 night preceding the Khan's visit to the fort, Moro Trimmul was 
 in company with his own men, placing them in positions in the 
 woods, ready to obey the signal which had been communicated to 
 him. Gunga, therefore, had been sent on to the fort under charge 
 of his servants, and directed not only to have the house swept and 
 prepared, but, as the guns were fired from the fort, to offer sacrifice 
 for him in the temple, and await his coming. 
 
 "Dost thou know her?" asked the Brahmun priest of Gunga, 
 when he heard her speak to Tara, and observed the effect* of her 
 address. 
 
 " Know her ? — Yes, Maharaj," returned Gunga, " she is a Moorlee 
 of the temple at Tooljapoor, and I am another, — that's why I know 
 her." 
 
 "It is curious," said the man, musing. "There, raise her up till 
 my wife comes ; we have had charge of her given to us, and she is 
 to watch here to see if the Mother comes to her to prove herself 
 what she says she is. Did she ever prophesy ?" 
 
 " The Mother came to her once," replied Gunga, " when she was 
 made a Moorlee ; but I never saw her come afterwards. If she 
 ^vould be a true priestess, she perhaps w^ould come ; but she is only 
 half a one at heart, and that's why trouble follows her." 
 
 " What trouble ?" asked the priest. 
 
454 TARA : 
 
 " 0, "her father and mother are dead, killed in the fight at Toolja- 
 poor, and she is here, among strangers, with no one to help her ; is 
 not that trouble enongh, Maharaj ?" replied the girl. "And she is 
 so beautiful, too ; thej say she is a witch, and steals men's hearts^ 
 and throws them away ; but I don't know that she is — she is only 
 beautiful — look at her." 
 
 "Ah, that's the worst I have heard yet," said the man, musing. 
 
 "Yes, but she is pure, quite pure, sir," returned Gunga earnestly, 
 "not like me and the rest of us; and we envied her, and I hated her; 
 but I don't hate her now, and when she wakes I will tell her so* 
 Tara, Tara ! wake ! She is not dead, sir, is she ? " continued the 
 girl dreamily, pushing away Tara's hair from her face, and looking 
 into her eyes : " she does not answer me. O, speak to her ! " 
 
 "No, she is alive," replied the Brahmun, feeling her hand and 
 forehead. "Wait, I will bring some water." 
 
 "Would she were dead — dead ere he came," Gunga muttered to 
 herself. " He will not spare her now — ah me ! not now : and in the 
 heat and confusion of victory, who will care for her? All those 
 she loved last, too, are dead — all gone — and that fair boy with the 
 rest ! Ah me, better she died ! Tara, drink ! here is water ! " 
 
 A woman came with a brass vessel full, and helped Gunga to raise- 
 her up, while she poured some into her mouth, and sprinkled her 
 face gently. They saw Tara heave a great sigh ; and presently, as 
 the woman fanned her with the end of her garment, she awoke and 
 looked dreamily around her — first to the woman, then to Gunga, 
 against whom she was reclining. Her first impulse was to rise, but 
 in the attempt she sank down again, and buried her face in her 
 hands. 
 
 "Why art thou here?" she cried piteously. "0 Gunga, go f 
 leave me." She did not yet comprehend what had been said of 
 victory, for she made no allusion to it. 
 
 "N'o, Tara, not now," said the girl — ^" not now. I will tell thee 
 why. Go," she continued to the woman. " You are kind. Go 
 now. I have that to say to my sister which no one must hear. Go ! 
 We are priestesses, and will serve the Mother in our own fashion. But 
 if I need shelter for her, wilt thou give it ? " 
 
 "Ah," replied the dame, "we are poor people, and can do little; 
 but the Maha Eanee is kind and just — I will speak to her." 
 
 " True," replied Gunga absently ; " if ^eeds be, I will come ta 
 thee again — now, go. Tara ! " she continued, stretching out her 
 hands to her imploringly when the woman had gone out — "O Tara, 
 look up ! look up, and see if I be like what I was ; — cast me not 
 away now, for we are both in the like misery! Mother!" she 
 cried to the image on the altar, " bid her speak to me, ere it be too 
 late ; — bid her trust to me, and save herself ! Tara, behold I kiss. 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 455 
 
 your feet ; trust me now, as I swear on them not to fail you. No, 
 no, never, never more — ^never more, except in death. See what I 
 do!" 
 
 She arose, went to the shrine, and prostrated herself before it on 
 her face, so that her hands embraced the feet of the image. " O, 
 kill me. Mother — O, kill me, Mother ! " Tara heard her cry, in a pas- 
 sionate burst of weeping ; " kill me, if thou wilt, for touching thee, 
 who am not worthy ; but hear me, and help me to save Tara. She 
 is thy child. 0, let me save her for thee. I will, — I will, if thou 
 Avilt bid her trust me, for I am not lying now. I am true to thee and 
 to her!" 
 
 The words were almost inarticulate, and gasped or sobbed, rather 
 than spoken. They fell strangely on Tara's ears as Gunga still 
 moaned rather than spoke-. " Mother — O Mother, I am true, I am 
 not lying ; bid her trust me ! bid her trust me !" 
 
 It was impossible to resist them. Tara rose and went across the 
 vestibule to her. " Grunga," she said, " get up, I am here : what 
 wouldst thou of me ?" 
 
 The girl arose, put away the dishevelled hair from her face, and 
 again bowed before Tara, embracing her knees. She was not repulsed 
 this time. The priest had watched the scene wondering! y — he could 
 not understand it. Tara was standing beside the door of the shrine, 
 the light from within streaming out upon her. Her slight figure was 
 drawn up to its full height, and her beautiful features were calm — 
 almost sublime in their expression. Lying at her feet, and clasping 
 them, was the other girl, still moaning in apparent agony. 
 
 " She hath done some terrible crime," thought the Brahmun, "and 
 the other will intercede for her." 
 
 " O Tara — O Tara," cried Grunga piteously, " I dare not look up to 
 thee now ; all my shame is rushing back into my heart ; my words 
 and my touch are alike pollution to thee ! O Tara, I dare not ask 
 forgiveness — I who have wronged thee so foully. Speak, for time 
 passes quickly, and they will be here — wilt thou trust me now ? O 
 Mother, Mother ! what can I do ? what can I say to make her trust 
 me — to make her forgive me ? " 
 
 " Look up, Gunga," said Tara, sitting down, and gently parting 
 the hair on the girl's forehead, "what hast thou done ? It Avas he, not 
 thou ; see, I forgive thee freely." 
 
 " O yes, it was he, not I," she cried, — " I resisted, and he used to 
 beat me. Yes, he beat me cruelly only yesterday, wlien he left me, 
 and then it came into my heart to save thee ! Yes, the Mother told 
 me — I know it now — to come here, and I have found thee. Listen! " 
 she continued, rising, and looking hurriedly about her. " There is no 
 one near — all are gone. Come ! come ! we are not seen ; — come at 
 once, — do not delay : we can escape during the confusion. Hark ! 
 
456 TABA : 
 
 they are fighting below — come ! I tell thee the tigers and the bears 
 on the mountain, are better for me and thee than they. Dost thou 
 not hear ? " 
 
 "It is the men firing for the Khan's arrival," said Tara gently; 
 " there is no fighting. Who should fight ? " 
 
 " Ah no," cried Gunga, " they are attacked, — the Khan is already 
 killed. I heard it as I came in — they are all dead or dying. O Tara, 
 I tell thee that no one will escape, — no, not one. Hark ! the din 
 increases, and thou art here: alas! alas! O Mother! tell it to her," 
 she exclaimed, with passionate gesticulation, to the senseless imago 
 before them — "tell it to her — she will not believe me — Tara, dost 
 thou not hear ? " 
 
 Just then, an eddy, perhaps, of the mountain- wind, brought up to 
 them from the deep valley below, a hoarse, confused din of shouts, 
 shots, and conflict. It could not be mistaken. Tara had heard it 
 once at Tooljapoor, but this was far more tremendous. 
 
 " Come ! " again shrieked Grunga, seizing her arm, and dragging 
 her away — " come ! It is our last chance for life — do not throw it 
 away. We can get out and hide among the bushes ; and I will never 
 leave thee, Tara, never." 
 
 But she spoke to one now wellnigh bereft of sense. The Khan 
 killed, the rest attacked, and the fierce turmoil of the fight coming up 
 stronger and stronger, till the fretted roof of the temple seemed filled 
 with the sound, overpowered Tara ; for at last, the hideous truth 
 seemed to flash upon her, as she sat down and buried her face in her 
 lap in an attitude of mute despair ; but Gunga would not let her 
 rest. 
 
 " Ah, I am believed now," she cried wildly : " listen ! Moro Trim- 
 mul, with thousands upon thousands, has attacked the camp, and he 
 swore to me to bring the Khan's wife and daughter hither. O Tara ! 
 will he spare them ? He swore he would not, and he beat me when I 
 pleaded for them. Look ! here are bruises on me. I tell thee he will 
 not spare them or you. Come !" 
 
 " I will die here, — I will not go from the Mother, Gunga," replied 
 Tara. " I am her child now — only hers : let her do with me as she 
 wills, I will not go. Save thyself, care not for me," and she arose 
 and prostrated herself before the shrine. " O Mother," she cried 
 piteously, " I will not leave thee again. Death or life, what matters 
 it to me ? let it be as thou wilt. I have promised not to leave fchee, 
 and I am here waiting." Then rising, she seated herself as she was 
 used to do before the shrine, and spoke no more. 
 
 "I can at least die with thee, Tara; I will not leave thee," said 
 Gunga. " Whatever comes, let it come to us both ; I am as ready 
 to die as thou art — I will not go." 
 
 They sat there long. The sun declined, and the evening was 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 457 
 
 drawing in. Once only Gnnga had gone ont to see whether she 
 could gain any intelligence, and had returned saying the doors of 
 the temple enclosure were shut. The Brahmun priest had dis- 
 appeared like the rest, but there were shouts as if of victory which 
 rung through the building in bursts, evidently growing nearer. 
 Tara seemed not to hear them. It might be that utter despair 
 possessed her, or, as Gunga hoped, that some manifestation of the 
 goddess was about to take place. She scarcely moved now, but 
 when the shouts grew louder she shuddered, and drew the end of 
 her garment more closely around her as if she were cold. 
 
 It was thus that the Maha Ranee, Sivaji's mother, found her 
 and Gunga as she entered with her attendants for the evening 
 prayer and worship, and to give thanks for the victory. 
 
 As the lady had approached the temple, the attendant priest told 
 her of Tara, and why she had been left there by the Shastree and 
 Govind Rao, [and the tale had excited her curiosity, if not her 
 compassion. 
 
 " She is sitting there before the Mother," he said, " and does not 
 speak. Perhaps she will answer you, lady, but it seems as though 
 a fit were coming on her. I will tell her at least that you have 
 come," and, stepping forward, he advanced to Tara and whispered 
 in her ear. 
 
 The Maha Ranee followed, and paused as she entered the 
 vestibule. The light shone full upon Tara, and her expression of 
 deep misery could not be mistaken. Long afterwards, the first 
 sight of that pale, wan, despairing face recurred to the lady with 
 pain, and she never forgot the look of hopeless grief which Tara 
 had first turned upon her. 
 
 " There is no inspiration in that face," said the lady to the 
 priest, — " none. It seems to me the Mother hath forsaken her. 
 Of what is she accused ? " 
 
 " She was taken from the Mussulman chief, we hear," said the 
 Brahmun, " and was to have become a Mussulmani. They say, 
 too, she is a sorceress, and does evil with her eyes ; but Govind Rao 
 placed her here, and knows about her." 
 
 " I fear her not," cried the Ranee, with flashing eyes. " Who is 
 she, that she dare sit in my presence ? Put her out ! Away with 
 thee^ wench ! " she continued to Tara, " get thee hence ! If thou 
 art forsworn, begone ! The Mother hath drunk blood to-day, and 
 will not spare thee ! Take her away, Bheemee — she is an offence 
 to us." 
 
 ^' Get up, girl," said Bheemee roughly, as she advanced, followed 
 by several other women — '* get up ; dost thou not hear ? else we 
 will cast thee out." 
 
 Gunga came forward boldly. *' Do not touch or hurt her," she 
 
458 TAEA : 
 
 said : "I fear site is not now in her riglit mind. If I may take her, 
 I will look after her. Get up, Tara, " she whispered in her ear : 
 *' come, we will go and hide ourselves. Come, for thy life, come 1 '* 
 and she tried to lift her up and drag her away. 
 
 But Tara could not rise ; her limbs seemed paralysed by grief or 
 terror, and she did not evidently understand what had occurred. 
 Not noticing the Maha Ranee, she disengaged herself from Gunga, 
 and once more stretched out her arms to the shrine before her, and 
 eried in piteous tones which affected many around her to tears, 
 *' O Mother, I will not leave thee : do with me as thou wilt, even 
 to death ! " and so lay moaning. 
 
 " Send for Govind E-ao and Wittul Shastree, lady," said the old 
 Brahmun priest, who was sobbing and wiping his eyes : " they 
 know of her, and you will hear about her from them." 
 
 " Good," replied the Ranee, already softened, " let them be 
 brought instantly, — they are without. We- will await their 
 coming." 
 
 Some little time elapsed, and others assembled. I^o one knew 
 what was going to happen. After a while Tara seemed to regain 
 sense and to remember why she was there, for she sat up, and they 
 saw her lips moving as if in prayer. As the trumpets sounded the 
 setting of the first watch at sunset, and the great kettledrums and 
 pipes played the evening music in the Nobut Khana above the gate, 
 the Brahmun priests entered with the usual offerings, and began to 
 chant one of the evening hymns of praise, as they moved round 
 the shrine in time with the faint clash of the silver cymbals, which 
 one of them carried. Then, timidly and faintly at first, but 
 increasing in power as she sang, Tara joined the chant. It was an 
 emotion which she could not restrain, and which not even the sense- 
 of desolation and dull misery which had overwhelmed her, could 
 repress. She was unconscious of the effect it produced upon those 
 who listened to her, as her full rich voice rose above the hoarse and 
 unmusical chant of the priests ; but as it gradually ceased, and the 
 sound died away in the recesses of the temple, it affected many of 
 those who heard it to tears, and was never forgotten. 
 
 ''No wonder," said the Ranee, who had listened to the hymn 
 with emotion which she hardly chose to acknowledge, — " no wonder 
 they say she is a sorceress. See, she has no fear — no perception 
 of what is to happen, or who are around her. That is not natural ; 
 it is magic, and may not be looked upon." 
 
 " Lady," said Wittul Shastree, who, with Govind Rao and the 
 other Brahmuns, now approached her, " we attend you ; what are 
 your commands ? " 
 
 "We doubt the girl yonder, and they tell us she is dangerous^ 
 and a sorceress ; we would have her removed ere we render sacrifice 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 451^ 
 
 for victory," she replied ; " but tlie priests tell us she is there bj 
 your order. Is it so ? " 
 
 " By her own will," said the Shastree ; " not our orders. We 
 would have made her over to the council for chastisement and 
 discipline, because, as a priestess of Kalee, she hath been residing 
 among the Moslems ; but she claimed ordeal and sanctuary with th© 
 goddess, and we sent her here. Has any vision appeared to her ? '** 
 he asked of the attendant priest. 
 
 "None," replied the man. "They have been talking together^ 
 she and the girl beside her, who wanted her to get up and go away ; 
 but she has not stirred since the five guns were fired, and she was^^ 
 told of the victory." 
 
 " I will ask her again what she wishes, lady," said Govind Rao, 
 " but better than I, Moro Trimmul should do it, who, we hear, has 
 married his sister to her father. He, too, is without with the Rajah j. 
 they have just come up into the fort." 
 
 " Let him be called," replied the lady, " and keep out other 
 strangers. Be ye all seated, sirs," she continued to the Brahmuns 
 who had accompanied the Shastree, " while this inquiry lasts." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXI. 
 
 The inner part of the vestibule was not large, — a square room^ 
 supported upon massive stone pillars at the corners, with a slightly 
 raised dais all round ; and as the Brahmuns entered and took their- 
 seats, Tara could not avoid noticing them, and appeared more con- 
 scious of surrounding occurrences than before. Thinking she would 
 rise, Gunga approached to assist her, but Tara motioned her away. 
 " My time is not yet come," she said ; " I will not go ; " and againr 
 she drew her garment about her, and resumed her silent position. 
 
 But not for long. There was a sudden movement among thos€>' 
 without, and a w^ay was cleared for one who came in rapidly. 
 
 " Who wants me here ? " cried a strong manly voice, apparently 
 hoarse from shouting. " A girl ! what girl ? Let me pass." 
 
 As he strode in through the men who were sitting behind, Tara 
 turned her head, and suddenly beheld her enemy. 
 
 She rose at once, excited and defiant, so noble in her manner, sa 
 expressive in her abhorrence, that Moro Trimmul shrank back a^ 
 step, abashed. 
 
 " Begone ! " she cried, stamping her foot. " There is the Mother; 
 not a second time shalt thou take me from her. My fathers," she- 
 cried, appealing to all around, "he would twice have dishonoured 
 me, and I have been saved. Now I am under your protection, 0, giva 
 
460 TARA 
 
 me not to Mm ! Take me to tlie mother of tlie Rajah ; slie will 
 protect m.e." 
 
 " Slie is here," said the Shastree, stepping forward ; " and thy 
 fate shall be decided before her. JFear not, daughter." 
 
 " Friends," said Moro Trimmul, looking round, " have care for my 
 honour ! Twice have I rescued her from shame. Once when she 
 was escaping from Tooljapoor ; once in separating her from those 
 who have been slain. Give her to me, for her shame to be hidden 
 away for ever." 
 
 *' I will not go; I will not go !" cried Tara, entering the door of 
 the shrine, and clasping the feet of the image. " Kill me if ye will, 
 here, — I am ready; but I will not go with him." 
 
 "I claim them both, sirs," cried Moro Trimmul passionately; 
 *' her, and her sister Moorlee yonder. Beware, ^11 of ye, how ye 
 interfere with the family honour of a respectable man. I will brook 
 it from no one, not even from Sivaji Bhoslay himself ! Have I won 
 a victory to-day at the Mother's command, and am I to be disgraced 
 and humbled before her, by a deranged girl and doting priests, ere 
 it is closed? Come forth, Tara!" he called, in a hoarse voice-— 
 " come forth, else I will tear thee thence. Away with her," he cried 
 to two of his attendants, who had seized Gunga, and were holding 
 her fast — " away with her to my house, and bind her there ; I will 
 bring the other. Now, friends, beware who stays m.e, for, by the 
 gods, he dies, be he who he may ! " and he drew his sword, and was 
 advancing, when the Shastree stepped before him. 
 
 "Madman," he cried, stretching forth his hands; "forbear! put 
 up thy weapon, — no one here dreads it. We are] Brahmuns, as 
 thou art ! Fear not," he continued to Tara, who had stood up also 
 by the altar, and was trembling violently, but not with terror. 
 "Fear not; thou art under the protection of the council, and he 
 dare not interfere with thee." 
 
 "Fool and dotard," exclaimed Moro Trimmul under his breath, 
 and from between his clenched teeth, " I will settle with thee for 
 this, one day yet. As ye will, sirs," he continued bitterly, looking 
 round and panting as he dropped his sword's point. "My honour 
 is in the hands of a priest's council at last, not in my own keeping, 
 and I am helpless ; but hasten what ye have to do, for I will not 
 leave ye till ye have decided in regard to her. Look at her — ^harlot 
 and witch, sorceress and devil — who hath already destroyed men's 
 souls, — will ye believe the Mother protects such as she is ? " 
 
 " Let it be so," said the Shastree. " Tara, art thou willing to 
 -abide the night, as the issue of the ordeal suggested by thyself, to 
 wait her coming ? If so, we will stay here with thee." 
 
 " Mother," she said in a low voice, turning to the altar, and 
 joining her hands in supplication before the image — " Mother, if I 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 461 
 
 am thy cHld, tell me what to say to them; or, if thou wilt, lefc me be 
 another sacrifice to thee, and it will be well. Mother,— O Toolja 
 Mata! dost thon hear? — Tara is ready before thee — ready to come !'* 
 Low as the words were spoken, they were heard by all ; and 
 remembering the events of the day, and believing in the power of 
 the goddess, it was expected the girl wonld fall and die where she 
 was, on the solemn invocation; but it was not so. For a few 
 moments she stood gazing intently at the image, without altering 
 her position of supplication ; then she smiled, her hands dropped, 
 and she turned at once and faced the assembly. Not even in her 
 first office as priestess had her beauty been more glorious — the ex- 
 pression of her features more sublime. 
 
 " O priests and elders," she said calmly and simply, in her sweet 
 musical voice, "" hear my last words : I am an orphan and a widow, 
 I have no one left on earth to protect me, — not one. To be in danger 
 of that man's evil designs, is to die, hourly. Did he succeed as he 
 has tried, it would be to live in shame ; now I can die in purity. 
 The Mother calls me ; she will not come to me, though I have asked 
 her. She is far from me, yet she beckons to me ; look, there ! " and 
 she stretched forth her hand to the roof — "she calls me, and I come, 
 pure, and purified by fire. Now listen, all ye Brahmuns ; I am true 
 and pure, and I am sutee henceforth. When ye will, and where ye- 
 will, I am sutee ; and on his head be curses, and the vengeance of 
 Kalee, who forbids it. Let me die in the fire, and I am happy ! 
 What she puts into my mouth, I say to you truly. Let no one 
 forbid it." 
 
 No one spoke, no one answered. The people before her rose as 
 one man. Many trembled, some wept, and women screamed aloud ;. 
 but Tara stood there unmoved, her bosom heaving rapidly, and the 
 glowing beauty and rapture of her face unchanged. 
 
 " Jey Kalee ! Jey Toolja Mata ! " exclaimed the Shastree ; " let it 
 be as she says, brothers. Henceforth she is sutee, and we accept 
 the sacrifice, for the Mother hath said it by her lips. Ah, the ordeal 
 is fulfilled indeed, and to the honour of her votary ! Fear not," he 
 said, "daughter: by this act is thy husband delivered from hell; 
 and all thou hast suffered in this life is sanctified unto thee. Bring 
 flowers, bring garlands," he cried to the people ; "crown her here at 
 the altar, and let her be worshipped." 
 
 " Tara, Tara ! " cried a husky voice close to her, entreatingly ; 
 "Tara, what hast thou done? Art thou mad? O girl, why hast 
 thou doomed thyself ? Come, there is yet time : come with me ! " 
 
 " Begone ! " cried the girl, interrupting him ; "I spurn thiBe, Moro 
 Trimmul, before all these elders : false and cruel as thou art, I am at 
 last beyond thy reach ! " 
 
 " Come away, Moro," said Maloosray roughly, who had just 
 
462 TAEA : 
 
 entered, and dragged him backwards with one hand, while he seized 
 his sword and wrested it from him with the other ; ^' art thou a 
 child ? dost thou fight with priests and women ? Come with me ; 
 the Rajah calls thee." The Brahmun struggled to be free, but 
 Tannajee's powerful arms were about him, in which he was borne 
 away, helpless to resist. 
 
 Not in her first admission to the office she had held, not in the 
 holiest of ceremonies at which she had before assisted, was greater 
 honour ever done to Tara than now. Bedecked with garlands, with 
 incense burnt before her, the priests present formed themselves into 
 Sj procession, and, chanting hymns of praise, led her round and round 
 the shrine. The temple court and its precincts were now filled with 
 people, who took up the shouts of victory — *' Jey Kalee ! Jey Toolja 
 Mata!" and as she passed onwards, throwing handfuls of flowers 
 among them, all who could reach her, touched her garments rever- 
 ently, or prostrated themselves before her, with frantic cries for 
 blessings. And so they led her on. 
 
 How many sweet memories crowded into Tara's mind now, and 
 urged her on. There was no fear, no irresolution — ^father, mother, 
 Zyna, Fazil — all dead, as she thought, and a fierce and ruthless 
 enemy persecuting her to the last. All she could think on was, that 
 she was free, that no one could harm her now. Had they then led 
 her to death, she would have gone, singing the hymns triumphantly. 
 
 Late that night Moro Trimmul returned to his place of residence. 
 Long before, when Sivaji's power was in its infancy, and the young 
 men had taken procession of the mountain-built fort, and led their 
 bands forth to plunder and destroy the Mahomedan villages around, 
 Moro Trimmul had fitted up a hollow bastion on one of the angles of 
 the precipice — in which the builder had left a small room and 
 anteroom — as his place of shelter. The inside was rudely plastered 
 with clay ; and a sleeping-place, also of clay, had been raised from 
 the floor, on which was placed a mattress and pillow. In the face of 
 the bastion a small oriel window had been built, which had a balcony 
 projecting from the wall, large enough for two people to sit in. 
 Seated there, you looked down a dizzy depth upon the forest below ; 
 but on all sides the precipices, the woods, and their deep glens, and 
 the varied mountains beyond, formed a combination of glorious 
 beauty, which there, above all other places in the mountain fortress, 
 was most deeply felt. 
 
 Thither had Gunga been taken by the Brahmun's servants on the 
 morning of the battle. He had charged them to have the place 
 swept and newly plastered with clay, and Grunga, with having it 
 done as he wished. On its completion, she had gone into the temple 
 to worship for him in the exercise of her vocation, as the signal was 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 463 
 
 to bo given, which they all told her of. She knew of his design. 
 He had charged her to watch Tara, and, if she saw her, to give hini 
 information of her actions. He had told her that he should brings 
 Fazil's sister to the fort, for he felt sure she could not escape him. 
 Herself, Zjna, and Tara should be confronted at last. How long 
 should the latter elude him ? For the Khan, Gunga cared nothing ; 
 for Zyna and Fazil as little — they were Mussulmans, and must perish, 
 — but for Tara ! 
 
 Ah yes, strange indeed, perhaps, yet not [unnatural, had been the 
 revulsion. The jealousy which had urged Gunga to hate the girl, 
 ^nd assist in plots for her ruin, had strangely altered to love. Twice * 
 had Moro Trimmul been foiled ; twice he had fallen savagely upon 
 her, and beaten her cruelly. We know when he did when Tara was 
 last rescued, and how Gunga, relenting, had not then abandoned 
 him. But it had not ended there. The fierce rage of disappoint- 
 ment had broken out again and again, and he had vented it upon 
 her brutally. She had borne this patiently at the time ; but she had 
 now sworn to herself, in the temple of the goddess at Wye, not only 
 to lend herself no more to Moro Trimmul's design, but had formed 
 the resolution to assist Tara to escape — to carry her off by mountain 
 paths ; and she knew that if they could once enter the forest near 
 the fort, they were safe. 
 
 Day by day, as these thoughts passed through Gunga's mind, the 
 love for Tara grew stronger, till it became an absorbing passion. 
 Would she but trust her — would she but beUeve her — they might 
 yet again see their beloved Tooljapoor, and she would work out her 
 forgiveness by devotion. It was not too late, she thought : but .... 
 We have already told how she met her in the temple : but it is 
 impossible to describe her despair at her failure to induce Tara to 
 escape, or when the man she dreaded, bid his servants seize and bind 
 her. If she could have remained with Tara — only near her .... 
 
 Alas ! it was too late now. She had scarcely been carried, shriek- 
 ing, from the temple, by the servants of Moro Trimmul, when 
 another man followed, and said Tara had become a Sutee, and was 
 to be burnt next day beside the tank in the fort. Then Gunga felt 
 the heroism of the girl's resolution. At least Moro Trimmul could 
 not injure her ; she would soon be beyond reach of his persecution. 
 It was well — ^yes, it was well. She could at least see her die ; and 
 then ? . . ' . 
 
 The desire of death sat hard at her heart. At first she shuddered 
 at it ; but once it had entered, it abode there and grew stronger. 
 If ^Moro Trimmul cast her off now, it would be but to be haunted 
 by the memory of the girl she had wronged so cruelly, and the love 
 for whom, and the despair of whose forgiveness, had pursued her 
 ' night and day — night and day : but it seemed to have reached her 
 
464 TABA : 
 
 at last. "Yes, slie touclied me kindlj," sTie said to herself; "she- 
 parted the hair from my face as a sister would have done : ere she 
 spoke to me she forgave me : and I will see her die, decked in flowers, 
 as a holy and pnre sacrifice. I will worship her as she goes to death, 
 and then I will follow her. O Tara, there, not here, I may be for- 
 given before the Mother." 
 
 Moro Trimmul's servants had taken Gnnga, and literally obeyed 
 the orders they had received ; bound her with one of her own gar- 
 ments, lest she should do herself or them injury, and laid her gently 
 upon the couch in the inner room. How long she had lain there she 
 had no idea ; but, as the time passed, it only confirmed her resolution. 
 She would die, no matter how. There was nothing definite in her 
 mind, but that she would die : a dull despair blunting every faculty 
 — a reality of determination before which her very senses seemed to 
 refuse office. 
 
 She heard Moro Trimmul ask without where she was, and the 
 servant answered that she was within, lying on the couch. A small 
 lamp had been lighted and placed in a niche ; and as he entered and 
 stood over her, she feigned sleep. She felt him unfasten the bandage 
 round her arms, and then he dragged her roughly to her feet. 
 
 "Devil!" he cried, "this is thy doing, and she is gone. Lost I 
 
 Tara, how beautiful thou wast in living death ! " he continued, 
 apostrophizing her, " speaking thy own death-sentence — as I listened, 
 
 1 could have died for thee." 
 
 " Thou art a coward, Moro Trimmul," cried the girl, scornfully 
 and desperately ; " thou darest neither die thyself, nor kill me. 
 Thou die with Tara ? she Avould spit at thee, as I do." 
 
 He struck her brutally to the ground with his clenched hand. 
 " Lie there, witch ! devil ! " he cried. " Thou hast been the cause 
 of all this ; alone, I could have done it. Thou and she are one now, 
 else why didst thou not decoy her here ? Did I not tell thee to da 
 so ? Speak ! " and he pushed her with his foot as she lay. 
 
 She arose. " Moro Trimmul," she said calmly, but with despera- 
 tion in her voice, " may the Mother forgive me what I have done 
 with thee against Tara ; that is all I pray now. Between me and 
 thee all is ended, long since. Let me go. I will serve thee no longer, 
 I spit at thee and defy thee ; and in the E-ajah*s court, before every 
 image of Kalee in the Dekhan, if I live, I will sing thy shame and 
 her honour. Let me go out ! " 
 
 She saw him set his teeth, as his eyes flashed with a wicked glare, 
 draw a knife from his waistband, and spring at her. The glitter of 
 that knife was the last thing, perhaps, of which she was conscious, 
 except that she seized the hand that held it, instinctively, and then 
 came a struggle for life. But only a brief one. A weak girl, before 
 a powerful man, could not endure long, — sickened, too, as she was by 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 465 
 
 liis previous Mow. Back — back, lie forced her to tlie window, which 
 was open ; on the little balcony without, they swayed to and fro 
 fearfully for a moment ; but he wrenched his hand free by a despe • 
 rate effort, and, striking her one heavy blow with the knife, where 
 he knew not, — as the body dropped heavily in his arms, he pushed 
 it forth into the dark air. He did not hear it fall, though he listened ; 
 but in the morning, the vultures, which lived on pinnacles of the 
 precipices, were seen descending in hundreds to their hideous feast 
 below. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXII. 
 
 Fazil Khan had followed the progress of his father up the mountain- 
 side with intense interest. The little pavilion on the knoll, the group 
 of Brahmuns already there, and the open and nearly level spot which 
 had been selected as the place of meeting, were distinctly visible 
 from where he stood with Bulwunt Rao, and a few other of his 
 trusty associates and retainers. Around, the horsemen — now mostly 
 dismounted — were dispersed in picturesque groups, talking together 
 or lying lazily upon the soft sward holding their horses' bridles, and 
 shading their eyes from the sun. 
 
 In the town through which his father had gone, there appeared no 
 stir. A few men were lounging about the gate, and upon the bastion 
 near it, and thus were looking out upon the Moslem horsemen 
 apparently in idle curiosity. The gate was open, and the towns- 
 people, and women with jars of water on their heads, were passing 
 to and fro unconcernedly as usual. There was nothing to excite 
 suspicion or apprehension, except in the mode of reception of his 
 father, and the strange, unusual proposition, that the first interview 
 should be on the mountain- side, and alone ; but Bulwunt Rao had 
 explained this characteristically, and with a fair show of reason, and 
 Fazil, though uneasy, was obliged to be content : there was no remedy 
 now. 
 
 So the Khan's progress in his palankeen had been watched with 
 intense anxiety as he ascended the rugged pathway. At times the 
 bearers could be seen, and the priest holding the side of the litter to 
 help himself along : again the thick foliage, and turns in the road, 
 hid them from view. At length Fazil saw the Brahmuns on the knoll 
 rise and advance a few steps, and the palankeen emerge upon the 
 open space, where it was set down ; and his father got out, adjusted 
 his turban and shawl, and stood with the rest. Then the bearers 
 and the priest moved a little aside ; and as the two men from above 
 appeared, his father advanced to meet them, and embraced one. 
 
 It was but for a moment, and the fatal result was at once apparent. 
 
 2 H 
 
466 TAR A: 
 
 With a cry of liorror, wliich aroused many around liim wlio had not 
 been watcliing the proceedings above, Fazil saw his father reel and 
 fall, rise again, as his sword flashed in the air, and with the Peer 
 maintain the unequal combat we have already described. ]^o sound 
 reached those below ; they could only see the flashing of the weapons 
 in the sun, and the struggle of the combatants. Involuntarily, Fazil 
 urged on his horse. Alas ! of what avail now ? Others had been 
 watching as well as he ; and the blast of the horn, which rose shrill 
 and quivering as the Khan fell, was answered by volleys of match- 
 lock shots from the woods around. The gates of the town were 
 shut, and the walls and bastions manned as thickly as men could 
 stand on then, whose fire on the horsemen below was hot and 
 deadly. 
 
 The effect of the surprise upon the helpless cavaliers need not be 
 detailed. Panic-stricken, and hemmed in on every side, they rode 
 hither and thither, vainly seeking places of egress through the woods, 
 or by the way they came, and were shot down m scores either where 
 they stood, or as they gathered in groups and charged hither and 
 thither in the vain attempt to reach a foe. Among these, Fazil 
 Khan, with Bulwunt Rao and some others, had kept together ; and, 
 in the emergency, Bulwunt's clear perception, not only of the danger, 
 but the best means of extrication from it, saved his young master. 
 On the first perception of his father's fate, Fazil had seen that it was 
 impossible to give help. The town and its walls stood between him 
 and the ascent to the fort, and were utterly impassable. His next 
 idea, in his grief and desperation, was to die with his men as martyrs 
 to the faith ; and he was about to dismount, and take his chance on 
 foot, when Bulwunt stopped him. 
 
 "No, Meah," he cried, "not while there is hope. They who will 
 be helpless indeed without you, will need you yonder in camp. If it 
 must be, I will die with you, but not now. Follow me, and we will 
 soon join them." 
 
 Well was it for Fazil Khan that in his retainer he possessed equally, 
 a devoted friend and one who had known the country as a youth. 
 In his recent visit to the fort, Bulwunt Bao had explored some of 
 his old haunts. One pathway, lying near that by which they had 
 come, was hardly visible from the plain, but if it could be gained, it 
 opened out afterwards into a long glade, which joined the main-road 
 below. It might be guarded, and they could but fight their way 
 through it or fall. Certainly it was better than the way they had 
 come, before which, from the deadly fire maintained there, the horse- 
 men had already fallen in a heap. 
 
 " Look," continued Bulwunt Bao, pointing to the entrance to the 
 main-road, " there is no hope there. They have been at their old 
 trick of felh'ng trees across it, and no horse can pass. The Abys 
 
A M Aim ATT A TALE. 467 
 
 sinians have fallen in a heap, and if we try, we shall but follow them. 
 We need not be martyrs yet, Meah," he laughed cheerfully. " Now, 
 set your teeth, my sons," he continued to the men around, "and 
 follow me. We may not all get through ; but, Bismilla ! come, and 
 let God take whom he pleases." 
 
 There might have been fifty men ; and others, as many more 
 perhaps, — as they saw these ride together in a desperate race in one 
 direction, — joined them. Bulwunt Rao and Fazil were leading ; and 
 as they approached what seemed a portion of impervious wood, Fazil's 
 heart failed him for a moment. " You are wrong, Bulwunt Rao," 
 he cried. *' We cannot get through this — let us turn." 
 
 "Madman!" exclaimed the other, seizing the bridle of his horse. 
 " By your mother and sister, I swear I am right ! Follow me, my 
 children," he shouted, looking back, while he again urged his horse 
 to its utmost speed; "we are near now." 
 
 He was right. A portion of the jungle jutted out beyond the rest, 
 a.nd made a slight shoulder, as it were, behind which was the path. 
 As they turned round the corner, they saw a body of foot-soldiers 
 drawn up across it ; but ere these could raise their matchlocks to 
 fire, the impetuous horsemen were among them, trampling some 
 down, and hewing fiercely at others with their long Spanish swords.* 
 The attack was irresistible, and, the first line of men forced, they 
 encountered no others. Straggling shots were fired at them from the 
 sides of the mountain, but without effect ; and after riding nearly a 
 mile down the glade at the same speed, the pathway turned into the 
 main-road, and they heard the din of the fight die away behind them. 
 Of the fifteen hundred gallant cavaliers who had ridden that morn- 
 ing from the camp at Jowly, they were the only survivors. 
 
 While Nettajee Palkur was finishing his bloody work on those who 
 remained after Fazil Khan's escape, by closing up the pathway, and 
 attacking from all sides at once, such of the horsemen as remained 
 in the field, — Moro Trimmul was busy with his part of the general 
 slaughter ; and as the fugitives rode on, the din of the fight behind 
 growing fainter as they proceeded, they were met by that of the 
 greater work in front, — more furious, and more terrible. 
 
 Yet they pressed on, until, reaching a rising-ground which over- 
 looked the field, they could see it all in its hideous reality. The 
 Mahrattas had seized the Beejapoor guns, and that point of defence 
 no longer remained to the Mahomedans. Thousands of the enemy's 
 foot-men, in compact masses, were charging disordered groups of 
 men huddled together, who made a vain resistance. Great numbers 
 
 * The Portuguese of Goa used to import large quantities of Spanish and Genoa 
 sword-blades. They were held in high estimation at Beejapoor, and they are 
 still often to bemet with in the country. The Rajah Sivaji's famous SAVord Bhowani,. 
 with which he killed Afzool Khan, is a Genoa blade of the first water. 
 
468 TABA : 
 
 of horses were careering madly abont, but, for the most part, the- 
 troop-horses were still at their pickets, and were now protected by 
 the Mahrattas. It was evident that the surprise had been as com- 
 plete and irretrievable as at the fort. 
 
 Casting his eyes round this field, in sickening apprehension— 
 indeed, in almost hopeless despair — the young Khan looked towards 
 the tents where he had left his sister and Lurlee. The tents were 
 standing, but the outer enclosure walls were thrown down, and a 
 crowd of followers and soldiers were apparently struggling together 
 in the plunder of what they contained. The place was apart from 
 the field itself, and Fazil pointed to it ; he could not speak. 
 
 The men with him had had no time for thought. From the 
 moment the Khan had died at Pertabgurh till they drew rein on the 
 eminence over the camp, they had ridden for life. But the worst 
 was now evident ; and what they had hoped to find, was gone. The 
 conviction that all their companions, — those whom they had loved 
 in life, were dead, at once fell upon their hearts ; and Bulwunt RaOy 
 and many another rough veteran, burst into passionate weeping. 
 
 Fazil appeared calm, but it was the calm of desperation and of 
 misery. " Why do you weep, friends ? " he said. " They are all 
 dead ; why should we live ? Death is better than dishonour ! Come 
 and see — Bismilla ! "- — and he turned his horse's head in the direction 
 of the tents. 
 
 None thought of the risk. *' Bismilla ! '* shouted the men, as, with 
 teeth hard set for a last struggle in life, they rode a mad race to 
 their old camp. Near it they passed many a familiar face lying 
 upturned to the sun ; and, hewing their way through a crowd of 
 plunderers which were upon the area that had been covered by the 
 Khan's tents, Fazil saw that their walls were torn down, and that no 
 one remained ; and in the bed of the rivulet which, lying low, screened 
 them from observation, they drew rein. In his misery Fazil would 
 have dismounted, and again sought death on foot, but Bulwunt Baa 
 saw the intention, and prevented it, as he had done before. 
 
 " No, no, Meah," he said roughly ; " you are our master now ; 
 and as the gods have enabled me to save you once to-day, so we will 
 all try again. If they you sought have been taken, they are in 
 honourable safety with the Rajah : if they are dead, there is no help 
 but in submission to God's will." 
 
 A shout from several of the men caused Fazil to look round. He 
 saw some persons running towards the party who had emerged from 
 the thick jungle on the other side of the stream. They were grooms 
 who had hidden themselves. 
 
 One of them clasped Fazil's knees. "They are safe," he cried; 
 " Meah, they are gone this way with the hunchback and Ashruf, who 
 would not let us follow lest we should be seen. They went down the 
 river ; and see ! here are their tracks. Come ! " 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 469 
 
 What need to speak more now ? The new interest absorbed all 
 other considerations. Several of the grooms were good trackers, 
 and the hoof-marks of the two ponies could not be mistaken. They 
 knew them well. 
 
 Late in the afternoon — often bewildered in deep silent forests, often 
 thrown out, often despairing of success, often passing hard rocky 
 ground where Fazil could see no tracks whatever, but where Bui want 
 Rao and the trackers held their way with confidence, a small group 
 of people were discovered, from a knoll where the trackers stood for 
 ^ time uncertain, sitting near a large banian tree, on the bank of a 
 mountain stream. 
 
 At a little distance, too, from them, sat a few men armed with 
 matchlocks, who were apparently guarding the rest. 
 
 Fazil and the scouts approached, cautiously leading his horse ; and 
 the first greeting was a rough one from the guards, who raised their 
 guns to fire ; but the next, a frantic cry of welcome from the 
 hunchback and Ashruf, who ran forward and prostrated themselves 
 before him. 
 
 " O Meah, they are safe — they are safe ! " cried Lukshmun, rising 
 first. ^'Come and see," he cried, bursting into tears ; " and the gods 
 have sent thee." 
 
 Hearing his cry, Groolab rushed forward, clasping his knees, and, 
 unable to speak, was sobbing passionately. 
 
 Yes, they were safe — Lurlee and Zyna. A rude bower of leafy 
 branches had been hastily made, with a screen of boughs twisted into 
 stakes in front ; and so concealed were they by the thick brushwood, 
 apart from the grassy glade, that the little commotion which Fazil's 
 coming had caused, had not been heard by them. Having dismounted, 
 and preceded by old Goolab, who, in her uncontrollable joy, now ran 
 before, screaming the news of his arrival, he entered the enclosure — 
 and the two desolate women, whose utter despair nothing as yet had 
 soothed or alleviated, fell upon his neck and wept aloud. 
 
 How long they sat into the night they could not tell. Kakrey, the 
 Mahratta officer who had followed the party by Moro Trimmul's 
 order, had overtaken them ; and, touched by the beauty and sorrow 
 of the women, had not molested them. The nearest Mahomedan gar- 
 rison was Kurrar, a town at some distance ; but he had engaged to 
 guide and protect them thither, and the reward promised by Lurlee 
 was at once confirmed, and even enhanced by Fazil. Kakrey had 
 already told them that the Khan's escape was impossible ; and they 
 were thus prepared for the sad news which Fazil brought. 
 
 Kakrey decidedly objected, however, to Fazil's horsemen, and even 
 to Lukshmun and Ashruf ; they were strangers, and would be in- 
 evitably suspected. Fazil and his men must take another road, he 
 said ; and the ladies must submit to hardships among mountain vil- 
 
47a TAJRA : 
 
 lages and rougli tracks for some days. They had no other chance of 
 escape but in disguise, and alone with him. He had already pro- 
 cured rough food and coarse clothes, and there was little time for 
 rest ; ere the morning he must take them away. 
 
 Poor Lurlee ! All night while Fazil sat there, she had pored over 
 the book of astrological diagrams in a hopeless puzzle of mind. 
 Why should she have been mistaken ? Why should her husband 
 have died who had left her so hopeful in the morning ? Were they 
 all wrong ? was all this, the faith of her life, false ? 
 
 It seemed so ; but one thing was at least certain, that Tara's nature 
 and Fazil's were alike ; and she appeared, in spite of her grief, ta 
 return to this discovery with a peculiar zest. " I am not wrong," she 
 said, "in this ; look ! " — but we will spare the detail. She was too 
 much bewildered by far, to understand as yet the loss that had be- 
 fallen her, nor was she at all convinced that she was a widow. No^ 
 the stars could not be wrong ; and for all they could say, she only 
 believed the more that the Khan would return. "Who had seen 
 him die ?" 
 
 Fazil was convinced of Kakrey's good faith. Bulwunt Eao un- 
 hesitatingly answered for him. They were neighbours, and had been 
 boys together. Fazil's promises of reward were too profuse to have 
 aught in competition with them. It was hard to persuade Zyna that 
 he must leave her again ; but as they were situated, they could not 
 remain together, and must separate. For Fazil would not leave his 
 men, and he determined, with Bulwunt and the hunchback, to hover 
 as long as possible about the vicinity of Wye. He might be joined by 
 other fugitives, he might rescue many of his people, and even make 
 head against the enemy ; above all, perhaps he might get news of 
 Tara, and assist her. He should avoid the Mahratta horse, and with 
 . a guide like Buhvunt Rao, and one of Kakrey's followers, who volun- 
 tered to accompany him, he could either conceal himself or advance 
 as needful. 
 
 So, with many tears, and almost despairing, Lurlee and Zyna, 
 dressed as peasant women in the coarsest clothes, left him ere morn« 
 ing dawned. Lurlee was not remarkable ; but the fair skin and 
 beautiful features of Zyna were often objects of wondering interest 
 and admiration among the mountain peasantry, as they journeyed on» 
 • **• .••• 
 
 Three days afterwards, Fazil and his men, who had been joined 
 by other stragglers on foot and on horseback, were lying during the 
 day in the place of concealment which had been chosen by Kakrey's 
 follower, and approved of by Bulwunt Rao and the hunchback. 
 In the depth of the jungle near Wye, there was a large banian tree, 
 planted by a small temple now deserted, because of some evil repute. 
 The tree had flourished while the temple had decayed, and was large 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 471 
 
 enoTigb, with its offsets, to liave sheltered thousands. The outside 
 boughs trailed on the ground, screening everything within, where 
 the bare, gaunt branches, and the naked roots falling from them, rose 
 higb. into the air, covered above with a thick foliage. A bright rill 
 sparkled past the tree ; grass was abundant on the hill-sides, and a 
 liberal price for grain had induced some villagers near, to supply the 
 men's wants for a few days. Every day, the hunchback and the boy 
 Ashruf, disguising themselves as mendicants, had sung ballads in 
 the town of Wye, in order to gain information of passing events. 
 
 They were lying concealed in this hiding-place when, in the 
 afternoon of the third day, the hunchback broke in upon Fazil and 
 some others sitting together. "Bid them all go away," he cried ex- 
 citedly ; " I have strange news, Meah, for thee, — for thine ear only." 
 
 The men rose and went to a distance. "Can it be of his father?" 
 they said. 
 
 STo, it was not of him ; he was beyond all hope now, and his 
 bloody head festering in the sun above the gate of Pertabgiirh. 
 
 "Meah," said the man, in a low voice, "Tara the Moorlee is 
 alive, but they are going to burn her to-morrow ; and I saw them 
 taking wood to the river- side to make the pile. They say the goddess 
 came to her at Pertabgurh, and told her, before the Rajah, to be 
 a Sutee, and he is going to make a great show of her to the people. 
 I waited till I saw her come into Wye in a palankeen, and I would 
 have told her you were here, but I could not get near her for the 
 crowd — they were throwing flowers upon her. The people do not 
 know her name, but I knew her : it is Tara. O Meah, you will not 
 let the Brahmuns do this ! " 
 
 " By Alia and the Prophet, no ! " cried the young man, starting to 
 his feet. " Dost thou know the place ? " 
 
 "I — I can lead a Durora on the house," said Lukshmun hesita- 
 tingly. " Grod forgive me, it is not the first I have led, and I observed 
 it all before I left." 
 
 " Where is Bulwunt Hao ? Call him." 
 
 " He is asleep, " replied Lukshmun ; " I will go and bring him." 
 
 "Meah wants you ; come," he said to Bulwunt Bao, after waking 
 him ; and when he joined Fazil, all was told him ; and the three men 
 consulted long and earnestly as to how the girl might be rescued. 
 
 " 0, were but Bama and a score of Pahar Singh's Bamoosees 
 here," said Lukshmun, " we could go and bring her to you to-night, 
 without waking her ; but your Mussulmans would make but a poor 
 hand of that work." 
 
 So, after discussing the subject in every way, there seemed no 
 chance of success but in an effort to carry her off from the pile 
 itself. The attempt might succeed or fail ; but the men who would 
 undertake it were at least desperate, and to abandon the girl to her 
 
472 TARA 
 
 fate without endeavouring to rescue her, was not to be thought of. 
 In any case, they must leave their hiding-place on the morrow, or 
 starve. A long march might take them at once beyond th^ dis- 
 turbed country ; and they were not, in their present mood, likely to 
 falter in their project. 
 
 Tara ! Her name aroused a thousand sweet memories. The day 
 after the interview with the Rajah, she was to have been demanded 
 as a subject of their King ; and, in the Rajah's apparently submissive 
 mood, Fazil had anticipated no refusal. What had happened to 
 place her in the situation in which she was, he could not conjecture ; 
 but Balwunt Rao and Lukshmun understood at once that she was the 
 victim of Brahmun intrigues excited by Moro Trimmul, and rejoiced 
 in the prospect of frustrating his intentions. Finally, the whole 
 project was explained to the men ; and in their hearty acquiescence, 
 and in the excitement of a new and desperate action, the young Khan 
 lay down that night, and, for the first time since the slaughter, slept 
 soundly. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIII. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Shastree, Anunda, and Radha, were pressing on as 
 fast as the nature of their travelling would allow. The Shastree 
 had a palankeen, for he was still weak, and the women rode ; but as 
 he gained strength, he was able to ride in turn. 
 
 At first their stages were necessarily short, with frequent halts ; 
 but as they proceeded, tEey had increased the daily distance ; and 
 the news of the action at Pertabgurh, which had spread over the 
 country with incredible rapidity, made them more and more anxious 
 to reach Wye, and ascertain Tara's fate. All attempts to trace her 
 on the road were fruitless. The army had passed, but in the con- 
 fusion attendant upon its progress, individuals could not be traced or 
 distinguished. 
 
 At the last stage before Wye they found the village where they 
 rested in much excitement. It was understood that a Sutee would 
 take place in the town the next day ; and though it was not known 
 who the person was, the certainty that such a ceremony would occur 
 was beyond question ; and it was evident that people from all the 
 country round would attend it. 
 
 Anunda had not been at Wye since her youth. Her parents, 
 who had resided there, were long since dead, and she knew, vaguely 
 only, of some distant relatives. The Shastree, however, in his pro- 
 fessional expeditions, had frequently visited the town which, from 
 the number of Brahmun families residing there, was then, as it still 
 is, the seat of much learning, and, from its many temples on the 
 bank of the Krishna river, esteemed sacred. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 473 
 
 The chief priest of one of those temples, Yishnu Pundit, was an 
 •Old friend and antagonist in scientific and literary discussions, and 
 Vjas Shastree knew he was sure of a hearty welcome, even if his 
 coming were not formally announced. But considering that his 
 wives might be an inconvenience, he had sent a note on by a 
 messenger, who had engaged to deliver it by daylight at furthest ; 
 and as they set out for their last march, it was in hopeful, perhaps 
 joyful anticipation of news of Tara, by which their long suspense 
 would be ended. 
 
 Mingling with the parties, therefore, which thronged the roads to 
 the town, and hearing many speculations as to the nature of the 
 Sutee, but nothing definite, the travellers passed on as rapidly as 
 possible ; and a fairer scene than the bed of the sacred stream, with 
 its hundreds of bathers in the sparkling waters, the temples on its 
 banks, and the broad flights of steps leading to the river, could 
 hardly be imagined ; but there was one object in particular upon 
 which all their interest centred. In the middle of a broad bed of 
 sand near the stream, some men were already piling logs of wood 
 into a square mass, and pouring oil on them ; fixing tall poles at the 
 sides, and hanging garlands of flowers and wreaths of leaves to 
 them. The pile was large, and would soon be completed for the 
 sacrifice. 
 
 Yyas Shastree rode to the spot, and inquired of the men — they 
 were Brahmun priests — for whom the preparations were being made. 
 They did not know, they said, — it was a state matter. When the 
 Sutee came there to die, she would be seen. Meanwhile she was at 
 Vishnu Pundit's house, and he might go and see her, and worship 
 her, as others were doing. 
 
 At Yishnu Pundit's house ! The place to which he was going ! 
 Certainly, then, he should see the woman, whoever she might be, that 
 was to be burned. " Had her husband died, then, last night ? " he 
 asked. If he had, the Pundit's house must be impure, and he must 
 look elsewhere for lodgings. 
 
 " No ; the Sutee was in pursuance of a vow," they said, — "not an 
 ordinary one, and an e^gj would be burned with her." 
 
 The Shastree was puzzled, and rode on, musing much at the 
 strangeness of the act, and unable to account for it satisfactorily. 
 Such sacrifices, from such motives, were no doubt meritorious, but 
 they were uncommon. 
 
 He was not far distant now from their destination, and, joining 
 Anunda, who, riding a stout ambling pony, was forcing her way 
 through the crowd, followed by the litter in which sat Radha, he 
 bade her come on leisurely, and himself urged his horse forward as 
 quickly as the crowded streets would allow, to his friend's house. 
 Yishnu Pundit himself was standing at the door of the outer courii 
 
474 TABA 
 
 opening into tlie street, across which, some men were tying garlands 
 of green leaves and flowers. Seeing the Shastree advancing, ho 
 came to him, and, assisting him to dismount, embraced him warmly. 
 
 "I received yonr note," he said ; '' but I have had no time to reply 
 to it. I have no room for yon, old friend, owing to the Sutee whom 
 the Maharaja has sent to me — that is, not till to-morrow ; but mean» 
 while my neighbour the Josee gives you one of the courts of his house. 
 Take the ladies there," he added to an attendant, *'as they arrive. 
 But do you, Yyas Shastree, come with me. I must speak with you 
 alone. Ah, we had mourned you dead — yet how wonderful it is that 
 you are here, and to-day, too ! Come, I have much to say to you 
 that is strange — most strange." 
 
 The Shastree followed him curiously into an inner court — one like 
 that in his own house at Tooljapoor, where he taught his pupils. 
 Numbers of people were pressing through the outer court, bearing 
 offerings for worship ; but in the place they went to, they were alone, 
 and the Pundit closed the door. 
 
 "Yyas Shastree," he said, looking at him intently as they sat down, 
 and speaking with irrepressible concern and grief in his voice, " O 
 friend ! O dear old friend ! I have dark news for thee to-day. Alas! 
 and woe to me that I have to tell it ! Hast thou a daughter named 
 Tara?" 
 
 " I have come to seek her — followed her thus far — ^what of her ? " 
 replied the Shastree, sickening with apprehension — " what of her ? " 
 
 "She was a priestess of Toolja Mata at Tooljapoor, was she not?" 
 asked the Pundit. 
 
 "She was so, friend, and the Mussulmans carried her off. But 
 they spared her honour! O, say they spared her honour!" he ex- 
 claimed piteously, and stretching forth his hands. 
 
 " She was an honoured guest with them, friend, and would that 
 
 O, how shall I say the rest? " he thought, — "how explain this misery ? 
 Alas, what evil fate hath sent him to-day !" 
 
 " Thou art keeping something from me," said the Shastree, striving 
 
 to be calm. " If — ^if Tara — ^my daughter What is it, O friend ? 
 
 we have suffered much suspense, much anxiety : — for her sake have 
 taken this weary journey; and we hoped to have found her here among 
 friends, perhaps with thee. What hast thou to say of her ? Did 
 they not give her up, as we heard they would ? Have — they " 
 
 " Yes, she is here," returned the Pundit hesitatingly, and turning 
 away his head in a vain attempt to repress his tears. " She — she — 
 is a widow, is she not ? " he asked. 
 
 Then the truth flashed upon the wretched father with fearful 
 rapidity. That crowd of people ; that hideous pile of logs : the 
 preparations and rejoicing were for her death — for Tara's, and after 
 all he was too late to save her ! O, if he had only hurried on,— if he 
 
A MARRATTA TALE, 475 
 
 had only left home sooner ! But thought now had no definite form. 
 It was a confused and conflicting chaos, utterly uncontrollable. 
 " Where have ye put her ?" he asked, in a low husky yoice, as, with 
 a sickening pressure at his heart, his features assumed the haggard 
 expression of weary age. 
 
 "Friend," said the Pundit, passing his arm around him and trying 
 to raise him up, " come and see. Such poor honour as we can do to 
 her on earth while she is with us, we have already done and will 
 continue. Come and see. Arise ! If thou art a true Brahmun, hear 
 this, like a god on earth as thou art, and believe it for her eternal 
 glory. How few are chosen for this sacrifice ! true jewels only are 
 they — pure gold, to be purified in the fire !" 
 
 "In the fire," he echoed dreamily — rising, and supporting himself 
 against a pillar in the room with a hopeless gesture of despair — "in 
 the fire! — I tell thee, Vishnu Pundit," he added presently, "it cannot 
 be : who has wrought this cruelty upon her ? Who has done it ? Of 
 her own act and will it could not have been ; but if the council have 
 dared to — to " 
 
 " She thought you dead — you, her mother, and your new wife," 
 replied the Pundit, interrupting him. " She was suffering hopeless 
 persecution and insult, and in the temple at Pertabgurh she stood 
 before the Mother's image, and declared herself sutee before the 
 .Brahmuns. Could we recall the words ? I was present. Had it 
 been my own daughter I had been thankful. O Shastree ! it was 
 her glory !" 
 
 Vyas Shastree could not reply. "Let me see her and hear it from 
 her own lips," was all he could utter at all intelligibly. 
 
 " Certainly, if thou wilt," replied the Pundit ; " she is ready to go 
 even now, but the hour is not come. And yet, Yyas Shastree, beware ; 
 would it not be better she believed you all dead, and so died happily 
 looking for you, than, seeing you alive, be shaken in her determina- 
 tion? Will not the love of life come out of this, and rise defiant to 
 all convictions ? Alas ! alas ! my friend, it is not for me to come 
 between your love and her mother's and that poor child ; but beware ! 
 she cannot retract now and live, otherwise than in dishonour and 
 infamy ; and hereafter you will cry in agony to the goddess Mother, 
 she had better have died — and will be guilty of sin in having shaken 
 her faith if she live. Did you refuse when she was called before ? '^ 
 
 The Shastree groaned, and his breath came as it were in broken 
 gasps. He was trembling violently. "I — I — must see her," he said. 
 "Let her decide ;" and, unable to stand, he again sat down. 
 
 " Drink some water, Yyas Shastree; it will refresh you," said the 
 Pundit, bringing a vessel full from the end of the apartment. 
 
 "ISTo, no, friend," he replied, putting it away, " I will not eat or- 
 drink till this is past, if it is to be. Let us go. I am no less a 
 
476 TABA : 
 
 Braliinun tlian thyself. If the Mother whom she serves has spoken 
 i}0 her, it is well — she will go to her. My child ! my child !" cried 
 the miserable man in his agony. " Mother, what hath she done 
 for this to come to her — she, so pure, to need the sacrifice of fire! 
 O Tool] a Mata, was it needed ? Come, Shastree, I am ready now," 
 he continued, after a pause. " Do not delay." 
 
 The Pundit said nothing. He again passed his arm round his 
 friend to support him, and, leading him to a door in the further end 
 of the room, opened it. A small court intervened between the place 
 where they stood and a larger one beyond, the door of which was open, 
 ^nd showed a crowd of people, mostly women, struggling to approach 
 some object beyond. All had garlands of flowers in their hands, and 
 vessels wherewith to pour libations. Suddenly there was a shrill 
 piercing scream ; and the crowd swayed to and fro, retreating back- 
 wards before some priests who were putting the people out. 
 
 " What can have happened ? " cried the Pundit, hastening on. 
 ■*' Come quickly." 
 
 Vyas Shastree felt instinctively that Anunda had seen Tara, and 
 he rapidly followed his friend. As he entered the next court, he saw 
 at a glance all he yearned for — all that he most dreaded to see. 
 
 A bower, as it were, of trellis- work, had been fitted up in the large 
 apartment of the Pundit's house which was raised slightly from the 
 ground, and it was covered with heavy garlands of green leaves and 
 flowers, as though for a bridal. In the narrow doorway of this bower 
 •stood a slight female figure, richly dressed in a bright crimson silk 
 dress, striving to put away the arm of a Brahmun priest, — who was 
 preventing her from stepping forth, — and struggling with him. The 
 face was full of horror and misery, and the eyes flashing with excite- 
 ment and despair. Before her, without, lay an elderly woman 
 senseless on the ground, supported by a girl and several other women 
 who were weeping bitterly. Tara, Anunda, Badha ! — how had they 
 met ? Alone, he could have met Tara firmly, but with them ? Not 
 now, however, did the Shastree's heart fail : no matter what followed, 
 honour or dishonour, he would not leave his child. Darting forward 
 past the Pundit, pushing aside some women, who, screaming sense- 
 lessly, would not be put out, — Vyas Shastree leaped upon the base- 
 ment of the room, and, dragging away the Brahmun priest, stood by 
 his child. " Tara, O my life ! my child !"- he cried passionately, 
 "come forth, come to us !" 
 
 It was the effort of an instant only, for the attendant priests had 
 seized him and drawn him back forcibly, while they held him up. 
 " Thou canst not touch her now without defilement," one said, who 
 knew him. " She is sutee, O Vyas Shastree, and pure from thy 
 ionch, even ; she is bathed and dressed for the sacrifice." 
 
 " Tara, Tara !" gasped the unhappy man, not heeding the words. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. . 477' 
 
 " Tara, come forth — come ; I, thy father, call thee ! O my child, da 
 not delay ; come, we will go away — far away, to the Mother " 
 
 To the Mother ! Perhaps if he had not said this, Tara would have 
 been unable to repress those last fearful yearnings to life which now 
 tore her heart ; but the echo fell on her own spirit heavily and irre- 
 pressively. To the Mother ! Yes, in her great misery, all she could 
 see in her mental agony — what she saw in the temple at Pertabgurh, 
 — ^all that she had dwelt upon since, — were the glowing ruby eyes of 
 the Mother far away at Tooljapoor, glittering, as she thought, in glad 
 anticipation of her coming. The same Brahmun priest who was^ 
 preventing her egress when her mother appeared, had again crossed 
 his arms before the door. As she saw her father advance, Tara 
 staggered back affrighted ; it was as though he had risen from the 
 dead ; and at his despairing cry the girl could not have restrained 
 herself, had not the echo of his last words fallen on a heart which, 
 though wellnigh dead to life, had rallied for a while to its purest 
 affections ; — but only for a while. 
 
 " Thou canst not move hence," said the Brahmun priest. " Cry 
 'Jey Toolja! Jey Kalee!' O Tara! thou wilt not now deny the 
 Mother ! — all else is dead to thee." 
 
 No, she could not deny her now — she would not. With that 
 strange light in her eyes — that seemingly supernatural force in her 
 actions, which the people thought the emanation of divinity, Tara*s 
 spirit was rallied by the priest's words. "Jey Toolja Mata !" she 
 cried, stretching her arms into the air; "I am true, O Mother! I am 
 true ; and even these shall not keep me from thee now !" 
 
 Strange enthusiasm ! stranger fortitude, which, having no terror - 
 of a horrible death, has carried on its votaries even to the flames with 
 a constancy and devotion worthy of a nobler fate ! In other cases, 
 earthly love — the desire to free a beloved object from the pains of 
 suffering for life's errors, and insure final and perfect rest to its 
 immortal spirit — or a gratification of the all-absorbing grief which 
 looks on present death as the only remedy for despairing sorrow — 
 might exist ; but here was no such incentive. The spiritual portion 
 of the girl's nature was alone concerned in the question ; and that, 
 once excited by position and circumstance, had insured a more per- 
 fect observance of her vow than earthly passion. 
 
 A strange enthusiasm indeed ! Ah yes, — from the period to which 
 we can trace it in a dim legendary superstition of the past, through 
 the two thousand years since the Greek philosopher stood on the 
 banks of Indus and Ganges and recorded it, to the time when it was 
 made to cease under the stern power of a purer creed — how many 
 have died, alike self -devoted, alike calm, alike fearless ! Women 
 with ordinary affections, ordinary habits of life, suddenly lifted up 
 into a sublimity of position, — even to death, — by an influence they 
 
478 TABA 
 
 were unable to repress or control — ^barbarous and superstitions if you 
 will, but sublime. 
 
 Tara bad conquered. Her fatber bung upon ber words witb an 
 absorbing reverential fear, as tbe last sound of tbem died away and 
 was drowned in tbe sbouts of " Jey Toolja Mata ! " wbicb burst from 
 tbe Brabmuns around, and were taken up by tbe people witbout, 
 whose frantic efforts to gain entrance were redoubled. He bad 
 beard ber doom from ber own lips, and, believing in tbe inspiration 
 wbicb prompted tbem, bis bead fell on bis bosom ; then the men, 
 feeling his frame relax, let him go, and he fell prostrate before bis 
 child and worshipped her. 
 
 They had removed Anunda into an inner room, and her senses had 
 rallied under the care paid to her. As he rose with a despairing 
 gesture, and turned away from his child, the Shastree sought Anunda. 
 " There is no hope," he said, " wife — ^none. It is her own act, and 
 the Mother takes ber. She is doomed, and I saw it in her eyes. It 
 is enough that we have come to see it ; she is already gone far beyond 
 xis, and we dare not recall her." 
 
 He closed the door, and within were Hadha, Anunda, and himself. 
 What he said to them — ^how he consoled tbem, no one ever knew ; 
 but after a while they came forth, bathed and purified themselves, 
 and went and sat silently near their daughter. 
 
 Now, they looked at her calm, glorious beauty as she sat within 
 tbe bower, decked for the sacrifice, with heavy wreaths of jessamine 
 flowers about her head, and rich golden ornaments about her person, 
 — ^their faith, cruel as it was, bid them rejoice. ISTo more contumely 
 now, no more reproach, no more sin, no more persecution. Her little 
 history was told them by Vishnu Pundit, and believed. Tara was 
 pure, and if the Mother had called her — even through the fire — she 
 must go. 
 
 So they sat listening to her, as she recited those passages from the 
 Holy Books which her father loved, relative to humble and yet 
 glorious martyrs like herself, — ^men and women who had undergone 
 the trial, and were at last free. Sometimes she spoke to them calmly 
 — told them how she wished her ornaments to be disposed of — what 
 charitable donations were to be given in her name — what messages 
 were to be delivered to her friends, and the servants who had tended 
 her ; but she never spoke of the past, nor alluded to her parents, as 
 though she had believed them dead. She never mentioned Afzool 
 Khan or his family ; she shed no tear, nor did any human weakness 
 appear to mingle with the rapt devotion which it was evident filled 
 her mind, and absorbed every other faculty. 
 
 So they sat — the girl within, the father and mother and Radha 
 Vv'ithout, the bower — their eyes blinded by tears, their voices choked 
 vrith sobs. Tara bid them not to weep ; but that emotion could not 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 479 
 
 ix) denied. No one dared to intrude upon that last terrible severing 
 of earthly ties. And so the priests chanted, and the shadows fell 
 -eastwards, and lengthened. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXiy. 
 
 After a while, they heard the sound of drums and cymbals, and of 
 the rude Mahratta pipes, advancing up the street, playing a wailing, 
 mournful air, and the musicians stopped at the door of the outer 
 court. The people within fell back, and made a lane of egress, and 
 Tara rose and came forth from the bower. Once she prostrated her- 
 self before her father and mother, and those with her saw a shiver — 
 whether of grief, despair, or terror, who could say — pass through her 
 body; but she recovered herself quickly, and as she stood on the 
 upper step of the basement, she asked for flowers, and, throwing 
 handfuls among the crowd, descended the steps into the court. 
 
 Then slowly on through the people, who worshipped her as she 
 passed ; and out of the court into the street, where an open litter, 
 such a one as she had sat in when they made her a priestess of the 
 temple at Tooljapoor, awaited her. Carried in this, as in a trium- 
 phant procession, and with baskets full of flowers before her, she 
 threw them among the. crowd. As she proceeded through the streets, 
 shouts from the people around her, and from those on house-tops, 
 trees, and terraces, were redoubled ; many women shrieked, and most 
 prayed aloud for the Sutee. The clash of the music increased, and 
 the march played was one of victory ; while companies of Brahmuns, 
 bare-headed, joined the procession, singing and chanting the hymns 
 of death. So, on through the town, past the holy temples, and into 
 the river bed, where thousands awaited her, and set up a hoarse 
 shouting as they saw her first. What was the first honour of life as 
 a priestess, to this glory of its death ? 
 
 She reached the pile, now covered with fluttering pennons, and 
 streamers, — orange, white, and crimson, — and thousands of garlands, 
 which the people had hung or thrown upon it as votive offerings since 
 the morning, — and the litter was set down for her to alight. It was 
 with difficulty the crowd was kept back so as to form a space round 
 the pile which would admit of her passing in procession ; but it was 
 cleared at last by the Brahmuns, and the people hung back awestruck 
 and staring at the beauty of the victim. 
 
 Tara looked at the pile ; but there was that strange ecstasy glow- 
 ing in her eyes which appeared to have rendered her unconcious of 
 its purport, or of all else about her. Sometimes she cast up her eyes 
 with a strange bright smile, and nodded as if she were saying, as 
 
480 TABA 
 
 perliaps she did, " I come, I come." Again she looked round her 
 dreamily. The roar of the people's voices, the clash of cymbals, the 
 shrill screams of the pipes and horns, the hoarse braying of trumpets, 
 and the continuous beating of deep-toned drums, were around her, 
 drowning the sound of words, and the bitter sobs and low shrieks 
 of her mother and Eadha at her side. Her father's spirit seemed 
 to have risen to the need of the occasion, for he stood near her 
 joining the solemn chant, which blended with, and softened, the rude 
 music. 
 
 As she stood, the Brahmuns worshipped her, and poured libations 
 before her and on her feet, touched her forehead with sacred colour, 
 and put fresh garlands over her neck. Then the last procession was 
 forined, in which she would walk round the pile thrice, and ascend 
 it, as her last act of ceremonial observance. Now, and before she 
 had to take off her ornaments, she turned her full gaze on it, and 
 they thought, who were watching her, that she seemed to compre- 
 hend its purpose. A huge platform of logs, black with oil and grease 
 that had been poured upon them, strewed with camphor and frank- 
 incense, which had been scattered lavishly by the people in their 
 votive offerings, and smeared with red powder. A rude step had 
 been made for Tara to ascend by, and on the summit some bright 
 cloths were laid as a bed, where she might recline, upon which a 
 small effigy of a man, rudely conceived and dressed, had been placed. 
 Her marriage-bed in the spiritual sense of the sacrifice, on which^ 
 through fire, she would be united to her husband. The whole waa 
 garish, hideous, and cruel. Face to face with death so horrible, so 
 imminent, the girl seemed to shiver and gasp suddenly, and sank 
 down swooning. 
 
 Vishnu Pundit, and another old Brahmun, raised her up. " It 
 must not be," they said to each other in a whisper ; " she must not 
 fail now, else shame will come upon us." 
 
 Moro Trimmul was near her also, and had been one to seize her 
 mechanically as she was falling. To him the scene was like some 
 mocking phantasy, which held him enthralled, while it urged him to 
 action. Since he had murdered Gunga, his evil spirit had known no 
 rest ; no sleep had come to him, except in snatches more horrible than 
 the reality of waking. Again and again he had felt the rush of the 
 girl's warm blood upon his hands, and the senseless body falling from 
 his arms into the black void of air, to be no more seen or heard of — 
 and had started up in abject fear. Day or night, it was the same ; 
 — the short struggle, the frantic efforts of the girl for life, his own 
 maddened exertions to destroy her, were being acted over and over 
 again. Every moment of his life was full of them ; and nothing else,. 
 do what he might, go where he would, came instead. He had eaten 
 opium in large quantities, but it only made the reality of this hideous 
 
A MAERATTA TALE, 481 
 
 vision more palpable, and exaggerated all its details. He liad busied 
 himself deeply in the arrangements consequent upon the victory and 
 the distribution of plunder, but with no effect. Haunted by Gunga*s 
 murder on the one hand, by Tara's determination to die as Sutee on 
 the other, the remonstrances of Maloosray and other friends only 
 irritated him the more. They had endeavoured to restrain him from 
 going to Wye to see her burned, but with no result — he had broken 
 from them, and ridden over alone that morning. 
 
 Soon after he arrived, he heard that Yyas Shastree and his sister 
 were already there, and he had sought her, and in his former desperate 
 manner, threatened and persuaded in turn. It might be that, having 
 experience of these threats, Badha no longer feared them, or that the 
 position she now occupied was so utterly hopeless as regarded Tara, 
 that even he must see that it was useless to persecute her further. 
 As a last resource, he had proposed to some of his own men, despe- 
 rate and licentious as himself, to attack the procession, and carry 
 Tara away ; but, hardened as they were, the sacrilege of violently 
 abducting a Sutee, was an impossible crime against their faith, and 
 his proposal had been rejected. 
 
 He was there, therefore, alone. He had bathed and performed the 
 needful ceremonies with the other Brahmuns, and the thought that 
 he should at least see Tara die, came, for the time, like sweet revenge 
 into his heart, feeding his evil passions and sustaining them. Devils 
 both, Tara and Gunga, witches and sorceresses. What matter if both 
 died horrible deaths ? it was the penalty of their crimes ; and in such 
 thoughts a momentary consolation was offered by the mocking fiend 
 at his heart, to be whirled away to the chaos of despair, in which 
 Gunga seemed writhing in her blood, and Tara tossing her arms in 
 the agony of the fire. 
 
 Thus he had walked with her, almost beside her, from the house, 
 through the streets, to the pile by the river-side. In the litter, 
 surrounded by chanting priests, she was unapproachable ; but, sink- 
 ing to the earth helpless before him, she seemed once more fated to 
 be his prey. 
 
 " Tara, Tara," he whispered quickly and sharply in her ear, as, 
 helping her to rise, he passed his arm under her. " Come, O 
 beloved ! save thyself, even now — even now. I can do it. Come, 
 O beloved ! " 
 
 The words and his hot breath on her cheek roused the girl more 
 completely than aught else could have done. She did not speak, 
 but she arose, strong and defiant, and, shaking him off, pushed him 
 away so violently from her, that he staggered and fell backwards. 
 
 For some time past, a body of horsemen, with their faces tied up, 
 after the fashion of Mahratta cavaliers, the housings of their horses 
 
 2 I 
 
482 TABA : 
 
 weather-stained, and their arms rusty and nnpolislied, had moved 
 about the bed of the river and the bank beyond, and as the proces- 
 sion advanced to the pile, pressed on nearer to the crowd. It might 
 be a hundred men or more ; and the leader, who was a Mahratta, 
 spoke cheerfully to the people who addressed him, and told them 
 of his pursuit of the Mussulmans, and the raid they had done into 
 the Beejapoor country, from which they were only now returning in 
 time to see the show before they went home to the fort. 
 
 Our old friend Bulwunt Bao had become spokesman and 
 ostensible leader; and the hunchback rode with him, and bandied 
 words with the bystanders freely, but in good humour. With them, 
 too, was Fazil Khan, who joined heartily in the rough jokes which 
 were passing — many, at his own expense of ragged clothes, rusty 
 arms, and gaunt features : and thus the band pressed on to the very 
 skirts of the crowd, as if to see the Sutee, but actually to tate up 
 the position necessary for their adventure. During the day they 
 had passed several bodies of Mahratta horse, but had been taken 
 for a similar party, and had as yet been unchallenged; and in the 
 crowd, their bold confident demeanour, and the ready replies given 
 to all questions, with the certainty among the people that every Mos- 
 lem soldier had perished at Pertabgurh, or was a prisoner, prevented 
 any suspicion of their real character. 
 
 Bulwunt Rao had seen Sutee rites before. They had watched 
 the procession issue from the town, and he knew Tara would alight 
 from the litter when she arrived at the pile. As she did so — as the 
 litter was carried aside, and before the procession around the pile 
 was formed — they had determined to ride in upon the crowd and 
 bear her away. They had no fear of the result ; there was not a doubt 
 among them. They knew that every horseman in the town would 
 be present there, nnarmed and on foot, and that miles would be 
 passed by them ere pursuit conld be made. Their old hiding-place 
 was not known, and beyond was open country; and if a long ride 
 by night, what fear ? — the horses were fresh and well fed. 
 
 " Be ready, Meah," said Bulwunt Bao, in a low voice. " See, they 
 are clearing a space around the pile for her to walk. Holy Krishna ! 
 how beautiful she is ! ' Jey Kalee ! Jey Toolja Mata !'" he shouted 
 with the crowd. Then turning to the hunchback, he bade him go 
 round the rear of the party and see they all kept together. " As one 
 man, Lukshmun, when they hear our shout, let them follow." 
 
 So they advanced nearer and nearer, and the crowd on foot, 
 unable to resist the pressure of the horses, gave way before them. 
 The sword of every man was loosened in its sheath, and a few of 
 the rear men, who had matchlocks with lighted matches slung over 
 their backs, unslung them, and held them on their saddlebows ready 
 for Tise. If any one had noticed Fazil Khan, they would have seen 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 483 
 
 him smoothing a cushion, as it were, of cloths upon the pommel of 
 his saddle, while he wakened his horse with an occasional touch of 
 his leg, and kept him excited for a sudden rush. 
 
 He moved up close to Bulwunt Rao. "If I fall, dear friend, in 
 this," he said, " tell them how it was, and take the men to them. Do 
 not wait for me ; let them do with me as they list." 
 
 Bulwunt Rao smiled. " Fear not, Meah," he replied. " Ride 
 thou in to her, and trust to us for the rest." 
 
 FaziFs teeth were hard set, and his heart throbbed quick ; but he 
 was calm and cool. It was no time for chance work, and there 
 must not be any mistake now. He felt his sword was loose in the 
 sheath, and smiled to himself. The men had orders not to strike 
 unarmed people ; but if any resisted, there would be some revenge 
 for Pertabgurh he thought, and, looking round, saw the rough faces 
 of his followers in thick array behind him, holding in their horses 
 as though for a race. 
 
 They saw Tara alight. Fazil was not a stone's-throw distant, and 
 perhaps she might see him, but she did not. He was not in her 
 thoughts now ; the agony of relinquishing him had passed from her 
 in the despair of life long ago. They saw her suddenly sink down, 
 and Yishnu Pundit and Moro Trimmul stoop to raise her up. 
 
 " Bismilla ! Futteh-i-nubbee ! " cried the young Khan, as, pressing 
 his horse's flanks, the animal bounded forward. "Bismilla, brothers, 
 YaAlla! Ya Alia ! " 
 
 " Ya Alia ! Ya Alia ! " shouted the rest behind, as they too gave 
 their horses the rein, and all dashed forward furiously. 
 
 Some men with poles and sticks struck at Fazil, Bulwunt, and 
 Lukshmun, as they came on first, but none there had arms. It was 
 as Tara, watching the effect of her effort against Moro Trimmul, 
 stood apart, with flashing eyes and heaving bosom — belonging for 
 the moment to the world she had abjured — that the hoarse shout of 
 the horsemen fell upon her ear. She looked at them for a moment ; 
 she saw people go down before them, trampled, shrieking, under foot, 
 and the weapons flashing in the sunlight. Then two men stopped 
 for an instant — she was between them : both stooped towards her 
 at the same moment, and one threw himself off his horse, and lifted 
 her to the other's saddle. 
 
 As it was done, a man sprang at Fazil's horse's bridle, with a 
 frantic execration, caught it, and jerked it violently. The noble 
 beast, urged on — for Fazil saw the danger — ^partly reared, but was 
 held down by the bridle; else it had fared ill perhaps with the 
 young man — for Tara was not sensible now, and he could only hold 
 her up with difficulty — had not Lukshmun been nigh.' 
 
 "I never kill Brahmuns," he said through his teeth, "but thou 
 art a devil;" and he struck at Moro Trimmul's bare neck with all 
 
484 TABA : 
 
 liis force. As tlie wretched man sank to tlie earth nnder the terrible 
 wound, the hunchback sprang to his horse, clambered upon it like a 
 cat, and flourishing his bloody sword, though he struck no one, rode 
 by Fazil's side onwards, unharmed. 
 
 No one opposed them ; the action was too sudden and too despe- 
 rate. The crowd, also, was not so thick towards the river, and gave 
 wav before them ; and, dashing through the shallow ford, the horses 
 throwing up the bright water in a cloud of sparkling drops, they 
 galloped up the bank, and even then, were beyond pursuit. A few 
 of the matchlock-men, firing their pieces over the heads of the crowd 
 beyond, shook them in defiance, as they turned to ride after their 
 party ; and a few shots in return, the balls of which sang shrilly in 
 the air over their heads, were fired after them by people in the 
 ihrong with harmless effect. 
 
 It was long ere the party drew rein, and no one spoke. Tara lay 
 easily, supported on the cushion by Fazil's arms, and he watched 
 anxiously for signs of returning consciousness. It came at last, as 
 he felt her cling to him, and she looked up to his face, as they crossed 
 a small streamlet leisurely, with a pleading look which could not be 
 mistaken. 
 
 " Ah, fear not,*' he said ; " fear not, beloved ! Thou art safe now;, 
 and that hideous pageant is far behind. Didst thou think, Tara, I 
 would leave thee to die that frightful death without an effort ? " 
 
 The beauteous eyes opened again, and closed softly as the tears 
 welled from them. The rapt glittering expression of religious en- 
 thusiasm had passed away, and left the world coming back fast into 
 them, with all its tender interests and love, a thousandfold more 
 powerful than before. 
 
 That night, another pile was lighted by the river- side, and a 
 corpse, never removed from the spot where it fell, was burned upon 
 it; but the pile of the Sutee remained, grim and black, and the 
 garlands of flowers had withered in the next day's sun ere it was 
 dismantled. 
 
 There were a thousand rumours current in the town for some days 
 as to who could have done so bold a deed, but no one guessed the 
 truth. Had Moro Trimmul lived, he could have told ; but he had 
 never spoken after the hunchback's sturdy death-blow. So the 
 people believed that some of the starving Beejapoor cavalry, wander- 
 ing about, had determined to attack the people collected for the 
 Sutee, and plunder them of what they could ; and that the rich 
 ornaments which the Sutee herself had worn attracted their atten- 
 tion, and they had carried her off for them. 
 
 Some days afterwards, too, near a spot where the fugitives had 
 rested for a while, the remains of a young woman, so much torn by 
 wild beasts as to be unrecognizable, with some shreds of silken gar- 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE. 485 
 
 ments about them, were found by the village people. It was clear 
 that a murder had been done, and the circumstances under which 
 Tara had disappeared, rendered it probable that these remains were 
 hers. So they were taken into Wye : and the miserable parents, 
 believing them to be their daughter's, had them burned by the river- 
 side in all honour and respect, and thenceforth believed her dead. 
 They did not leave Wye immediately. The excitement and fatigue 
 had exhausted the Shastree, who required rest ; and the ceremonies 
 consequent on Tara's death, and necessary purification, occupied 
 some days; so Yishnu Pundit's persuasions prevailed, and they 
 remained with him. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXY. 
 
 Khundojee Kakrey performed his promise faithfully. By secret 
 mountain paths known to few, and through the dense forests of the 
 tract which lies between Pertabgurh and Kurrar, on the right bank 
 of the Krishna, the Mahratta guided his charge safely, and with as 
 much comfort as the nature of the journey would admit of. The 
 two women maintained their disguise of peasants, and Zyna's ability 
 to speak Mahratta, as well as Lurlee's to speak Canarese, assisted in 
 aiding the deception. By night Kakrey sought shelter of villages 
 where he seemed to be well known, for a decent house was always 
 ready for them to sleep in, the best delicacies of country farmhouses 
 cooked for them : and frequently, not only the matron of the house, 
 but other women of the village, attended to bathe them, and other- 
 wise minister to their comfort. 
 
 But for all this, those days were remembered as a time of bitter 
 grief and sore trial ; the more difficult for Zyna to endure, because 
 Lurlee could not be brought to believe that her husband was dead, 
 and preserved throughout, a demeanour of hope, if not, indeed, of 
 actual joy. " No one saw him die," she would say, *' his body was 
 not buried by them. They dare not say he is dead, and I will hear 
 no more of it. When we are at Kurrar he will return, and we will go 
 home together." Again and again, too, were the astrological dia- 
 grams consulted : but the lady was unable to find any error in them, 
 and for the present they were to her far more conclusive than the 
 report she had heard from Fazil, and it was a happy thing for her, 
 perhaps, that the delusion lasted even as far as the town to which 
 they were journeying. 
 
 With Zyna, however, there was no delusion. She had at once 
 behoved her brother's report. Kakrey, too, had told her that there 
 was no hope of her father's existence. Of Tara's fate he knew 
 
486 TARA 
 
 nothing. Mourning for liim, therefore, and in miserable anxiet^r 
 about her brother, Zyna had had to endure a twofold trial, which- 
 her naturally buoyant disposition and innate piety only, enabled her 
 to sustain. Possibly, too, had she remained in one place it would 
 have been more severe; but the daily movement — in a manner 
 before unexperienced by her — the sense of freedom from restraint in 
 the wild country they traversed, the beautiful and, to her, wonder- 
 ful mountains, forests, and natural objects of all kinds, which,, 
 brought up as she had been in the seclusion of a zenana, she had had 
 no chance of seeing before — served to divert her mind from the 
 terrible reality of her loss, to fill it with hope, and to render the sense- 
 of danger they incurred in their escape to be blunted by the excite- 
 ment of perpetual change. 
 
 Of the servants who had escaped with them, and who joined 
 Fazil's party, Groolab alone remained to attend the ladies by permis- 
 sion of their guide. She had been divested of every particle of 
 Mahomedan attire, and, dressed in a coarse Mahratta saree, with a 
 dab of red colour smeared on her forehead, and mounted upon a 
 small ambling bullock, passed readily for a Mahratta farmer's wife. 
 In this ride, the old woman was in her element ; now guiding the 
 docile animal she rode, beside Lurlee, now beside Zyna, cheering 
 them on when they were fatigued, and often dismounting and sup- 
 porting them in places where the ponies hesitated and had to be 
 carefully led. Unless near a mountain village, their guide, Kakrey, 
 seldom approached them ; he was generally in advance with some 
 of his men, while others remained behind, guarding the rear. When 
 in motion, the party was made to resemble, as far as possible, the 
 appearance of people journeying upon a pilgrimage, and small orange 
 flags, carried by several of the men, and fastened to the pommels 
 of the women's saddles, assisted and maintained the deception. 
 
 It was on the afternoon of the fourth day that, emerging from a 
 rugged pass in the mountains, they saw below them part of the wide 
 plain of the Dekhan, the blue waters of the Krishna river sparkling 
 in the sun, and the town, which they had hitherto only hoped to 
 reach. Great numbers of white tents were pitched upon the plain 
 near the fort, showing the presence of a considerable force, and the 
 royal standard fluttered lazily in the evening breeze from its highest 
 tower. It was a pleasant scene of quiet soft beauty, and seemed a 
 true resting-place for the now weary and almost exhausted travellers. 
 The last march had been a longer one than usual ; for some of the 
 way they had passed through village lands, in regard to the people 
 of which Kakrey was not without apprehension; the country was 
 becoming more open, and the danger of detection greater ; never- 
 theless, he had guided them safely and truly, as he had promised. 
 
 It had been no easy matter to sustain the lady Lurlee that after- 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 487 
 
 noon. All the confidence slie liad displayed liitlierto, false as it was, 
 seemed to liave suddenly deserted lier as she drew nigh, to her desti- 
 nation ; and while they rested during the hottest part of the day, 
 under some cool shade by the side of a rivulet, Zyna saw that the 
 old diagrams were laid aside for once with a heavy sigh, and seemed 
 to afford no comfort. She thought the evident weariness might be 
 the result of a longer and rougher ride than usual, and tried to 
 soothe Lurlee. " Only a few coss more, mother," she said, " and we 
 are safe with our own people : do not fail now, when the end is so 
 near!" 
 
 "It matters not — what is the use of it?" replied Lurlee — "who 
 will care for us, now they are gone from us ? " 
 
 " The Blessed Alia, and the Prophet, and the saints," answered 
 
 Zyna devoutly, " and there is Fazil too " 
 
 " He could not love me, now that Tara is not with me," returned 
 Lurlee, interrupting Zyna. 
 "Tara, mother?" 
 
 " Yes, his soul will be gone away to her and to his father, Zyna. 
 He is dead," replied Lurlee, sighing. " I know it now. All day long 
 the old man's face has been before me, gashed and bloody, and I 
 think," she said, passing her hand across her eyes, " that I am not 
 deceived now — no, not now." 
 
 " We shall know the best or worst soon, mother ; but Fazil could 
 not have been deceived," replied Zyna. 
 
 "And thou hast not wept, Zyna ! O hard heart ! Was he nothing 
 to thee ? It is the old who cannot weep — the old like me." 
 
 Zyna's tears were falling fast, but she checked them. " I would 
 not grieve thee, mother, needlessly," she said ; " when Fazil comes, 
 he will tell us all." 
 
 " If I could see her, the daughter the good Alia gave me, Zyna — 
 the girl who softened my heart — and give her to him — it would be 
 enough ! but they took her away, and she, too, is dead ! Once," she 
 continued mysteriously, after a pause, and catching Zyna's arm, — 
 " once since we were out in these wilds, she came to me in a dream, 
 and mocked me. She said she was going to die, and go to her 
 Mother, but she would come to see me first. Ah, she was very 
 beautiful, Zyna, and smiled lovingly upon me in her old way. Now, 
 when she said that, it must have been near morning, when we were 
 asleep in the village where they gave us milk to drink, and about 
 the third watch of the night ; but I cannot understand what planet 
 ruled the hour. Ah me ! I used once to do so, but the more I look 
 at the tables now, the more I fail." 
 
 " Trust in Alia, mother, not in them," replied Zyna. 
 " I have no trust in them," muttered Lurlee gloomily — "none now 
 in anything ; all have failed me, and she most of all. O Tara ! why 
 
488 TARA : 
 
 didst thou go? O my child, my child, whom Alia gave me when I 
 had none, and when thy mother died. Alas ! why was I mocked, 
 Zyna ? why did Alia take him too, who loved me, and leave me 
 here ? O daughter, this is unjust oppression, this " 
 
 " Hush, mother ! else Alia will hear thee, and be angry, and the 
 saints too ; and can any one resist fate ? mother, be patient ! " said 
 Zyna soothingly. " Only for their help we had not escaped the 
 slaughter, and worse — dishonour; and yet we are here, and our- 
 friends now are not far off." 
 
 "Your friends and Fazil's, girl! " she returned tartly. " I have 
 been of small account enough already among ye, and am not likely 
 to improve." 
 
 "Do not speak bitter words, mother, I beseech you," cried Zyna 
 entreatingly. "We are your children — indeed we are, and will 
 never leave you. If Fazil lives " 
 
 " Peace ! " rejoined the lady, interrupting her, " do not let falsehood 
 come into thy mouth, girl. Enough for me that Tara is not, and 
 thou art." 
 
 Zyna could never reply to Lurlee's caustic speeches, least of all 
 tinder the pressure of their mutual bereavement ; and as they sat 
 there they broke forth from time to time from her without tear or 
 sob — old grievances — old jealousies — old allegations of neglect. 
 Matters which Zyna had utterly forgotten, seemed to have rushed 
 back on the lady's memory like a flood. They were hard to endure ; 
 and yet not so hard, Zyna thought, as the false confidence, the fear- 
 ful mockery of truth and reality, which had lasted till then — that 
 disbelief in her father's death for which she could not account. 
 
 "Ah, if Tara can only be rescued from them, there may be some 
 natural revulsion yet," thought the girl ; and yet what hope of that ? 
 She could not deceive herself into a belief that Tara would be given 
 up, or that she could escape from her family ; perhaps, on second 
 thoughts, she would not desire it — but if it could be so ? And 
 amidst such conflicting thoughts, and the endurance of Lurlee's 
 dogged, desperate state of mind, the afternoon's journey into Kurrar, 
 though the last, was indescribably more miserable than any which 
 had preceded it. 
 
 They descended the pass, and were once more on level ground. 
 "Hence to Beejapoor," said Goolab cheerily, as she was leading 
 Lurlee's pony down the last steep descent, " there are no mountains 
 — ^^a child might ride thither without trouble. Keep a good heart, 
 therefore, O my Khanum ! trust in Alia, and the Prophet, and the 
 blessed Peer Khaderi, and thou wilt see it. I vow Fatehas to the 
 shrine, and to feed " 
 
 "They are liars like thyself," retorted Lurlee savagely: "peace, 
 for a prating old fool as thou art! Did not the planets tell me 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 489 
 
 Afzool Khan was alive, and now men say lie is dead ! After that, 
 can I believe ? woman, thon art mad — so keep thy tongue silent ! " 
 
 Goolab thought her mistress mad — perhaps she was so in some 
 degree. Excitement, grief as yet without vent, and heavy fatigue in 
 a blazing sun to one unaccustomed to exposure, might easily cause 
 temporary delirium, and it was with difficulty that she supported her 
 mistress upon her pony over the ground which intervened from the 
 bottom of the pass to the town. Shiverings had come on, and it was 
 evident that the poor lady might be seriously indisposed. 
 
 Several of Kakrey's Mahratta foot-soldiers, who had guarded them, 
 had run on to secure a lodging of some kind, and the travellers were 
 met at the town gate by one who had returned to wait for the 
 approaching party, and he guided them on. Other parties had 
 reached the camp from the fatal field, and more were still coming in 
 daily, so that the arrival of the travellers was unnoticed, and from 
 their disguise their persons and rank were quite unknown. To those 
 who saw them pass, they appeared women of the country who had 
 made a long journey that day, and were utterly wearied ; for Lurlee, 
 closely muffled, was supported by Goolab, who walked by her side, 
 with her arm thrown round her waist ; and Zyna, even more entirely 
 concealed from observation, leaned forward, supporting herself on her 
 arm, as if hardly able to maintain her place on the saddle. Kakrey 
 and his followers had closed round them so as to protect them from 
 the jostling of the people in the narrow street and crowded bazar of 
 the town, and all cheered the ladies by the assurance that the house 
 secured for the night was a good one, which belonged to a respect- 
 able Mahomedan merchant, who had given part of it without hesita- 
 tion on hearing for whom it was needed. It is doubtful, indeed, 
 whether either of them could have supported their fatigue much 
 longer.* 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVI. 
 
 A FEW steps further on, and Kakrey turned the ponies into a side 
 street, and stopped at the handsome gateway of a respectable house. 
 The steps up to the entrance being easy, the active mountain animals 
 scrambled up them in turn, and their riders 'were thus taken at once 
 into the first court. Then, when the gates were closed, Goolab lifted 
 them from their seats ; and the men, who had remained without, took 
 possession of the guard-room inside the first archway, which, while 
 
 * Khundojee Kakrey's escort of the ladies of Afzool Khan's family to Knrrar 
 became known to Sivaji, and he was tried and beheaded for — as it was esteemed 
 — the act of treason. — Mahratta Chronicle. 
 
490 TAEA 
 
 ^t afforded ample accommodation, enabled tliem to continue their pro- 
 ection to tlie last. 
 
 Once more in private, and their mnfflings removed, and as Goolab 
 led Lurlee into the second court, they were met by a lady of middle 
 age, who, attended by several servants, advanced and saluted them 
 cordially, yet with a peculiar reverence. 
 
 " The wife and daughter of Afzool'Khan are welcome to our poor 
 house. O lady ! why did you not advise me of your coming ? " 
 
 " Who art thou? " asked Lurlee faintly, "and who told thee of us ? '*' 
 
 " My husband was at his office in the bazar," replied the lady, " and 
 some men came asking for shelter for noble travellers who were very 
 weary. He asked who they were, and was told of you. O lady, your 
 steps are fortunate, and Alia hath led you here to do us honour. 
 Many benefits hath my lord received from the noble Khan, and there 
 is much to repay — ^very much." 
 
 "Have you hot water for a bath, lady?" cried Groolab, interrupt- 
 ing her, " and some decent clothes instead of these, and some food 
 that noble ladies can eat ? They will be better than fine words. 
 Alas ! that for the last four days we have eaten dry parched pease, 
 dry bread, garlic, and porridge — unblessed food, O lady; and my 
 mistress, you see, is ill of it, and talking to her won't cure her ! " 
 
 " Fear not," replied the dame, smiling ; " we have had scant notice, 
 yet we may do something," and she was as good as her word. Hot 
 water to bathe with, was quickly prepared, and clean refreshing 
 clothes ; and the rubbings and kneadings of several young girls 
 relieved their weary aching limbs. Soft cushions were put down to 
 lie on ; and there was a hospitable, grateful hostess ministering to 
 every want. Even Lurlee's churlish humour was already softened 
 by the attention paid to her ; and she remembered, with satisfaction, 
 in spite of her late disbelief, that the day was Thursday, and that, as 
 she entered the house between five and six in the afternoon, the hour 
 was ruled by Mercury, and was propitious. 
 
 About the same time, a body of horsemen — there might have been 
 from two to three hundred of them — were approaching the town from 
 the other side, through the camp which spread out irregularly among^ 
 the fields and gardens. Their horses neighed frequently as they 
 passed tents where others were picketed, seemingly envious of their 
 rest and comfort ; and the appearance of the whole party, jaded and 
 wayworn, indicated a long weary march in a hot sun that day, which 
 had now come to a close. 
 
 As they passed the first tents, the men loitering by the wayside 
 asked carelessly who they were, and being told, followed them 
 eagerly ; while the news that one remnant of the noble host which 
 had been so treacherously destroyed at Purtabgurh had arrived, 
 traversed the camp before them. As men of the Paigah of Afzool 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 491 
 
 Khan were recognized, many a rongh heart swelled, many an eye 
 filled with tears, as the horsemen proceeded : while crowds followed 
 them, greeting old friends who had escaped, or tendering their 
 respectful salutations to the young Khan, and congratulating him on 
 his escape. 
 
 Bulwunt Rao and the hunchback were in front, and as they neared 
 the town urged their horses on. " Wait for us at the gate ; we will 
 not be long, and will bring the water," cried the latter ; and when 
 Fazil reached it, a litter — which had been rudely constructed of a 
 bed-frame and stout bamboo poles, covered with some coarse sheets 
 — by which he had been riding, was set down. The men who had 
 carried it were exhausted, and as they placed it on the ground, lay 
 down themselves at a little distance. 
 
 Fazil dismounted and approached it. " Tara ! " he said, " Tara ! 
 art thou asleep ? We have arrived, and there is now no more fatigue 
 or danger. Tara, awake ! " 
 
 The girl turned mechanically towards him, but did not seem to 
 recognize him ; her eyes were much glazed, and her lips cracked and 
 parched. " Water," she said faintly. 
 
 " Alas ! I dare not give it thee, Tara," he replied. " O my life — 
 O beloved, look up ! wait but till they return, and all will be well ! " 
 
 She shook her head, and a smile, very sad and sweet, seemed to 
 pass over her face, but she did not speak. Fazil looked out among 
 the people passing to and fro ; perhaps there might be a Brahmun 
 among them, who could give her a few drops of water to moisten her 
 mouth, but he saw none. How wearily the time seemed to pass ! 
 With what impatience did he watch the gate whence Lukshmun or 
 Bulwunt Rao, on their double errand, should return ; and with what 
 misery did he look upon the poor girl, lying in heavy fever, without 
 the means of relieving her ! How he longed for his sister or Lurlee ! 
 but it might be days ere they arrived, and till then he must trust her 
 to strangers. 
 
 It had been a weary day, indeed — a day of intense anxiety to all 
 who accompanied him. Under the excitement of release from 
 imminent death, and in the rapid ride of the afternoon of her 
 rescue, Tara had borne the fatigue wonderfully ; and as night set in, 
 and they took some hurried rest among the corn-fields of a village, 
 Fazil hoped that she would sleep, and be refreshed against the mor- 
 row ; but it was not to be so. During the night the girl began to 
 speak incoherently at times, and it was evident that she suffered 
 from high fever. Still they must proceed ; there was no delaying 
 there. The tracks of his party were distinct, and a force of the 
 enemy's horse might yet overtake them and destroy them if they 
 tarried. 
 
 So, after feeding their horses on green corn-stalks, and themselves : 
 
492 TABA : 
 
 obtaining a rougli meal from the green heads of corn roasted in a 
 fire, they again set forth. They had no other food, for they dare 
 not stay to cook it, and they had avoided villages as likely to expose 
 themselves to collision with the surly people. Once or twice, strag- 
 gling parties of cavalry had been met ; but they had passed without 
 notice, and the farther they proceeded, the less chance there was of 
 interruption. So far all was well ; but Tara grew worse, and could 
 no longer sit the horse on which she had been placed ; so, in a village 
 which was passed, a litter was contrived, a drink of milk obtained, 
 and the party again set forward. Finally, they had arrived safely at 
 Km^rar ; but Tara now knew no one, she could not be roused to 
 speak, and lay moaning piteously, as if in pain. 
 
 " When she gets water it will refresh her," thought Fazil, as he 
 sat helplessly by her, praying, in his own simple fashion, that God 
 would be good to him and spare her. " Weariness and the terror of 
 death have caused this," he said to himself, "and rest alone can 
 cure it." 
 
 At last Lukshmun returned with a Brahmun and some water, and 
 the man, looking into the litter, shook his head hopelessly. 
 
 " She is dying," he said ; " let her be taken out and placed on the 
 ground, that her spirit may depart easily." 
 
 Fazil flung him away angrily. " She shall not die," he cried pas- 
 sionately ; " give her the water — as much as she will drink." But it 
 was of little avail, — she scarcely swallowed any, and motioned the 
 :man away with her head impatiently. 
 
 Then came Bulwunt Bao. *' I had much ado to find the mer- 
 chant," he said, "and when I did, he told me strange guests were 
 already with him, and that he could not find room for a Brahmun 
 woman. Nevertheless he yielded at last, and we are to go. I rode 
 by the house. The porch was full of men, so we must seek shelter 
 elsewhere. The merchant said he would meet you at the door of the 
 house, but he does not yet know who you are. I did not tell him. I 
 -only said you were a nobleman of Beejapoor." 
 
 " And why did you not tell him ? " cried Fazil, with some im- 
 patience ; "he owed my father a thousand benefits." 
 
 " So much the better, Meah," returned Bulwunt, "and he looks as 
 though he would repay them. Come, it is close by." 
 
 The bearers again took up the litter and carried it on. Fazil 
 accompanied it on foot, holding the side ; and at the same door which 
 we have already described, stood a pleasant-looking man, dressed in 
 flowing Arab robes and a green turban, and several servants behind 
 him, — who saluted Fazil courteously as he stood aside for the litter to 
 goby. 
 
 " Meer Jemal-oo-deen, if thou art he,'^ said Fazil, " will have for- 
 gotten one whom he knew long ago." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 493^ 
 
 "I have forgotten jour face," returned the man, "jet jon are 
 welcome, and the peace of the Prophet be npon jon. Who are jou ? " 
 
 '' Fazil, the son of Afzool Khan," was the replj. 
 
 " O, great joj ! O, thanks be to Alia ! " cried the man, lifting up his- 
 hands, " and blessed be the saints and the Prophet who ha^e sent 
 thee. Embrace me, and come in qnicklj, for thj mother and sister 
 have also been brought to us, and are safe within." 
 
 "Then she will live ! thej will save her! " cried the joung man 
 excitedlj. " Thej will save her ! O Meer Sahib, where are thej ? " 
 
 "Within, in the zenana," replied the merchant. " Sorelj exhausted, 
 I hear, but alreadj better ; and she ? " and he pointed to the litter. 
 
 " No matter, sir," said Fazil, advancing; "all will be told jou 
 hereafter. She is much to them ; but she is grievouslj shaken, and 
 we lose time. She cannot speak, and is burning with fever." 
 
 " Ah, is it so ? Then let her be carried in," and he clapped his 
 hands. " Take that litter within at once," he said to the women who 
 came ; " then see to the ladj who is in it." 
 
 Four stout women took up the litter, carried it into the inner courts 
 and set it down. 
 
 Lurlee and Z jna were Ijing in an inner room, the door of which 
 was open, and from whence the entrance to the court could be seen. 
 " What can thej be bringing in ? " said Lurlee, as she saw the end of 
 the strange litter entering the door. " A man following, too ! Be- 
 gone ! " she screamed violentlj, hiding her face under the sheet ; 
 "begone ! this place is private." 
 
 " Mother," cried Fazil, who heard her voice but did not see her ; 
 " it is I ; and here is Tara. Come, O Zjna ; where art thou ? Come 
 quicklj to her." 
 
 O delicious joj ! Larlee, forgetting all her previous troubles, 
 sprang from the bed on which she had been Ijing languidlj, and 
 Zjna followed ; and thej fell upon his neck with low whimpering 
 cries, like dogs when thej have found a lost master. Where was 
 fatigue now ? 
 
 Tara ! It was far in the night ere consciousness returned to her. 
 " No matter, Alia hath sent her again to us," said Goolab, whose 
 ideas were alwajs of the most practical description ; " she is ours 
 now, and we will bathe her." And some Brahmun women, who lived 
 hard bj, came and assisted. So, ere morning broke, Tara was Ijing 
 on Lur lee's bosom sobbing gentlj : and, with her loving arms wound 
 round her recovered treasure, Zjna was sobbing too. 
 
494 TARA 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXYIL 
 
 Some three weeks after tlie events recorded in the last chapter, Zyna 
 and Lnrlee were sitting near the foot of the bed on which Tara was 
 lying, and two Brahmun women — widows, as appeared from their 
 shaven heads and coarse serge garments — sat on each side of it. 
 One was fanning her gently. The bed was very low,, hardly a foot 
 from the ground, so that the women were seated on the floor, leaning 
 against its frame. They had watched all night in pairs by turns, 
 and the dawn was just about to break ; but a small lamp, in a niche 
 of the wall, threw a faint light over the room and the verandah beyond, 
 and fell upon a figure lying there, covered in a sheet, which appeared, 
 from its measured breathing, to be asleep. All four women were 
 weeping silently, and their faces had that worn, haggard expression 
 which is consequent upon long and continuous watching. 
 
 '' When did he say he would come again ? " asked Lurlee of one 
 of the women in a whisper. 
 
 " They will both be here at dawn," said the woman addressed ; 
 **but they said they could do nothing now, unless she rallies of her- 
 self : medicine cannot help her ; and still she sleeps." 
 
 *' Look," said Zyna, with a tone of awe in her low voice, " if you 
 can see her breathe. I have been watching for some time, and I 
 cannot see the sheet over her move as it used to do. Mother ! mother ! 
 she is not gone from us ! " 
 
 " No, daughter," returned Lurlee, " she lives still, but she is near 
 to death, fearfully near, and is in the hands of Alia. If she wake up 
 restless, as she was before, we must put her on the floor, that the 
 spirit may pass easily ; but, as it is, we may yet hope, for there is rest 
 now after her weariness, and she hath not asked for water all night. 
 You have given her none, have you ? " she asked of the women. 
 
 " No, lady," replied the elder of the two ; '' none since she went to 
 sleep. It is near dawn, and if the soul had to pass it would be rest- 
 less to go ; yet she sleeps. We cannot move her, nor is there need ; 
 she breathes as gently as a child. Look ! " 
 
 The woman took the lamp from the niche in the wall, and, shading 
 it with her hand, yet so as to suffer a little light to fall on Tara's 
 face, looked at it earnestly. "She smiles," she said in a whisper; 
 "behold, lady, but do not rise, else it might wake her." 
 
 Lurlee and Zyna leaned forward and regarded her anxiously. 
 Yes, the lips, though blistered with the parching heat of fever, 
 seemed fuller and redder, and, as the sweet mouth was partly open, 
 the light fell upon moisture on the white pearly teeth which glistened 
 brightly. The cheeks were not so wan and sunken, and the eyes, 
 instead of being partly open, with a dull glassy stare which, except 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 495 
 
 wlien they flaslied in delirinin, liad been their only expression for 
 several days past, were now closed entirely, and the long eyelashes 
 rested peacefully, as it were, on the cheek. One hand had been 
 placed nnder her head, and the other lay across her bosom. Her 
 breathing conld scarcely be seen, and yet, if they looked intently, 
 the arm across the bosom heaved slightly now and then, and as it 
 were without excitement. 
 
 "It maybe the flush of life which precedes death," said the woman; 
 "yet then they do not often smile, nor dream. See, she is smiling 
 again." 
 
 "Ah, there is no death in that smile, daughter ! Look ! O blessed 
 saints, pray for her! O Prophet of God, she will be thy child soon; 
 intercede for her, and have her spared! O holy Syud Geesoo Duraz ! 
 I vow a golden coverlet for thy tomb, and Fatehas to a thousand poor 
 mendicants, if she be saved! " cried Lurlee, with clasped hands and 
 streaming eyes. " O, give her to me ! All have children but me, 
 and this one strange child I took into my heart when ye sent her, 
 xind she abode there. O, take her not— take her not from me ! 
 What use would she be to ye now in her young life ? Wilt thou not 
 pray too, Zyna, for her ? " 
 
 "Mother, I have prayed,"" replied Zyna earnestly. "Fazil hath 
 prayed. We have vowed Fatehas to all the shrines, and to the holy 
 Saint at AUund. Mother 1 I will send my gold anklets and her zone 
 to the shrine there, if she but live, and will give her others." 
 
 So they watched and prayed, and saw the smile playing gently and 
 sweetly over Tara's mouth and eyes. Was it to hear the whisper of 
 the Angel of Death ? It might be so, and then the last dread change 
 would follow; the eyes would glaze and sink, the breathing become 
 shorter and more difficult, and they must take her up and lay her 
 down on the ground to die. Would it be so ? 
 
 For many days Tara had lain between life and death. The great 
 excitement she had passed through — during which her mind, strung 
 by despair and superstitious belief, had sustained her — had passed 
 away suddenly, and left its never-failing result in the utter prostra- 
 tion both of mental and physical power; and the exposure she had 
 been subjected to in that wild night-ride from Wye, with the suc- 
 ceeding days of heat and fatigue, in the midst of constant alarm, had 
 combined to produce severe fever. As she was lifted from the litter 
 the evening she arrived by the women, she was entirely unconscious ; 
 but in Lurlee she had at once a skilful and loving nurse, and after a 
 while she had recovered sufficiently to distinguish with whom she 
 was, and fco feel that the hideous insecurity of her life — nay, the 
 imminent peril of a horrible and violent death — had passed away. 
 
 But after that short period of blissful recognition, and with the 
 sound of Lurlee and Zyna's passionately endearing welcomes in her 
 
496 TABA : 
 
 ears, unconsciousness had returned, and slie knew no more for many" 
 days. The burning fever, accompanied by low delirium, continued 
 without intermission. Happily her mind retained its last pleasant im- 
 pressions most vividly: and from time to time, Lurlee and Zyna heard 
 her murmur to herself more of her deep love for Fazil than she would 
 ever have dared to tell them, and they listened wonderingly to the 
 strange mingling of his name with those of gods and demigods of 
 her own faith, and to the impassioned expressions which broke from 
 her in that wild, perhaps poetic, language, with which, from her own. 
 studies and her father's recitals, she had become familiar. 
 
 The doctors of the town were early summoned ; and there was an 
 old Gosai, known to the merchant's wife, who lived in a village 
 near, whose repute for curing cases of fever was very great, and who 
 was sent for, when the doctors' period of nine days' illness had elapsed 
 without any relief. He declared the fever would last three weeks : 
 and" that, on the twenty-first day, or thereabouts, Tara would either 
 live or die, for the disease was dangerous and difficult to subdue, 
 but — he would do his best. So they sat and watched her day and 
 night; life now seemingly trembling on her lips, and yet again 
 rallying within her, and giving hope when otherwise there was none.. 
 
 Now, too, under the long sleep, her features had relaxed ; the skin 
 had lost its unnatural tension and dryness, and a soft smile was 
 there which looked like life ; and still they prayed and made vows. 
 
 *'No," said the woman, holding the lamp and watching Tara, "it 
 is not death, lady — not yet. There is no change ; and see, the sraile, 
 faint as it is, does not pass away. Surely there are sweet thoughts 
 below it — thoughts, perhaps, of life. Let us wait and pray." 
 
 And still they sat, and, after their own fashion, humbly prayed 
 too; and the morning broke, and Fazil, who, wearied by watching, 
 lay outside, arose, performed his ablutions, and, with Zyna, spread 
 their carpets, and performed the morning service. Then he watched 
 in turn ; and the doctors came, looked at the sleeping girl, and one 
 of them gently put his hand on her pulse and felt it, and smiled, and 
 nodded his head approvingly. " There is life in it," he said gently, 
 '" but it is very feeble. Wait till she wakes — that is the crisis of life 
 or of death; but, perhaps — Grod knows — it may be life." 
 
 It may be life ! Ah, yes ! Many who read these pages will 
 remember like scenes; watching the fluttering spirit of one most 
 beloved — parent, or wife, or child — with an intense and wondering 
 earnestness of misery or of hope, mingled with prayer : incoherent 
 perhaps — no matter — yet going straight from the heart, up to Him 
 in whose hands are the issues of life and of death, to be dealt with 
 as He pleased. Is there none of this among the people we write of? 
 Why not as much as among ourselves ? The same motives exist 
 there as here, the same deep ties of affection, the same interests, and 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 497 
 
 the same hopes and fears — often, indeed, inore powerful as belonging 
 to minds more impetuous, and less regulated by conventional forms. 
 Then the hope is greater, the agony of bereavement more bitter, and 
 the suspense between the final issue, perhaps, more unendurable. 
 
 So they sat around her. The kind, hospitable merchant's wife, 
 with whom they still resided, came forth from her own court of the 
 house, and, smiling as she saw Tara, bid them be of good cheer. No 
 one spoke afterwards, but they watched the tranquil face ; and the 
 expressions still varying upon it, under the thoughts passing within, 
 gave increasing hope of life. 
 
 It had been a sore struggle ; but life at last was suffered to triumph 
 over death. From the time when the weary tossing to and fro ceased, 
 and the parched lips refused to speak even incoherently, and the 
 deathlike sleep began, the exhausted frame had been gathering 
 strength. More than a night, and nearly a day, had passed in hope 
 and fear alternately to them, but in rest to Tara ; and as the shadows 
 were falling long towards the east, the sweet eyes opened to the full, 
 and looked around. 
 
 They could see but dimly at first ; but they read in the faces which 
 at once turned towards her, now the most precious on earth, the 
 assurance of that love, of which, as her spirit hovered on the thres- 
 hold of the unknown eternal land, she had been permitted to dream. 
 There was no fever now in those soft eyes — ^no glare, no glassy 
 brightness : but dewy, and their deep brown and violet shaded by 
 the long lashes, into an expression of dreamy languor — they seemed 
 more beautiful by far than they had ever appeared before, and Fazil 
 thought, as his creed suggested, that those of a Houri of the blessed 
 Paradise, or a Peri angel of the air, could not be more lovely. None 
 of them could speak then ; but the tears were falling fast from their 
 eyes in great and irrepressible emotion, as they stretched forth their 
 arms to welcome Tara to life. 
 
 " My child ! my life ! " cried Lurlee, sobbing, who was the first to 
 find utterance. " Now, Grod hath given thee to me again, and I will 
 never leave thee — ^never. O, do not speak ; it is enough that we see 
 thee come back to us, more precious, and more beloved than ever ! " 
 
 Tara attempted to reply, but was too feeble. They saw her lips 
 moving, but no words could be heard. She tried to stretch forth 
 her hand to Zyna, but she could not lift it. Zyna saw the attempt, 
 and threw her arm round her. "Not now, beloved," she said — "not 
 now. Lie still and rest ; we are all near thee, and will not go away." 
 
 So more days passed, and Tara grew stronger, though slowly. 
 The shock to mind and body had been very heavy, and needed long 
 rest and much care ; but she was in tender hands, and gradually, but 
 surely, they saw progression to convalescence, and were thankful. 
 Lurlee could not restrain her pious gratitude; and Friday after 
 
 2 K 
 
498 TABA : 
 
 Friday, the poor of the towfi, Hindus as well as Mahomedans, received 
 a munificent dole of food and money, and rejoiced at the widow's pro- ' 
 fuse charity. 
 
 Dear reader, if you have ever recovered from such an illness as 
 befell Tara, you will remember, vividly and gratefully, the pleasant 
 languor, the perfect rest, and the sensation of growing strength of 
 life, — amid its weakness, such as you cannot estimate till you attempt 
 to act for yourself. You long to speak, but your tongue refuses words ; 
 you long to rise and help yourself, but your members as yet decline 
 office. If you can turn yourself about as you lie, it is all that is pos- 
 sible. Then, if you are ministered to by loving hands, and you hear 
 sweet familiar voices around you, how often has your heart swelled, 
 and run over at your eyes, silently, and in very weakness, as you 
 have abandoned yourself to their sweet influences ! How powerfully 
 the new life which Grod has given you, grows under their ever-pre- 
 sent care ! Sometimes you can hardly bear the excess of joy, and 
 tremble lest it should suddenly cease ; and again, you find periods 
 of rest possessing you — dreamy unrealities — incomplete perceptions 
 — even vacuity, which is not sleep, nor yet waking — and still with 
 all, a consciousness of increasing strength which will not be denied. 
 
 It was so with Tara. No one spoke much to her, she could not 
 bear it, nor could she reply ; but if Zyna sat by her, or Lurlee, and 
 held her hand, it was enough for reality ; and morning and evening 
 Fazil was admitted to see her, and to satisfy himself that she was 
 gaining ground. The past was never alluded to by any of them. 
 At first she had only a dim and broken remembrance of it, as of 
 some great ill-usage or suffering. As she grew stronger, the detail 
 became more distinct: and they often saw her shudder, and. draw 
 the end of her garment or the coverlet over her face, as if to hide it 
 from observation, or to shut out some terrible sight from her view. 
 Yet to herself there was aA unreality about the whole, which she 
 could neither comprehend, nor account for. Most of all about her 
 parents : were they indeed alive, or was their sudden appearance on 
 the day of the Sutee, a reality, or a trick of imagination — was all she 
 retained in her mind one of the hideous dreams of her illness rather 
 than a fact ? Who was to tell her the truth ? 
 
 All that Fazil had heard from the hunchback, he had told to Tara 
 as they rested here and there in their escape ; but her own mind was 
 then in that state of terror and confusion that she could teU him 
 nothing, nor, indeed, could she find courage to speak to him at all. 
 Long before, when they had been together in camp, she had never 
 dared to answer him. It was enough for her that he spoke, and that 
 she listened. Her mind, as he rode with her that night before him 
 — for he would trust her to no one — was sorely unhinged. That she 
 had escaped death she knew ; that she was with him she knew also : 
 
A 3IAHRATTA TALE, 499 
 
 tliat slie feared pursuit, and might be taken and burned alive, Was an 
 absorbing terror, which shut out the shame of her flight ; and it was 
 perhaps a happy circumstance that the fever, which had so long 
 affected her brain, shut out all realities till she was stronger, and 
 calmer to bear them. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXYIII. 
 
 Day by day, as strength returned to Tara, remembrance returned 
 also. It might have been with abhorrence of her present position — 
 with dread of her broken vows— with terror of the Mother's ven- 
 geance, and with a sense of her own pollution as an escaped Sutee — 
 which would have utterly overwhelmed her with remorse, and for- 
 bidden recovery at all ; and in such a case, death would have been 
 welcome. We will not say that there was no revulsion of feeling: it 
 would have been unnatural in one with so fine an intellect as Tara 
 possessed, had there been no- struggle. Perhaps the new life to 
 which she awakened, after the illness she had undergone, had blunted 
 the perceptions of the old ; perhaps, as Zyna and Lurlee told her, 
 that it was her destiny, which she could not resist ; and that, if she 
 were to have died, as her creed had determined, could Fazil have 
 prevented it ? — would she have been delivered at all ? Had she not 
 already undergone the pains of death in preparation for it, and been 
 delivered from them ? 
 
 Then Lurlee again brought forth her books, and went over all her 
 old calculations, and there were the priest's also with them, all tend- 
 ing to the same point. If her faith had been shaken for a time, in 
 the fact that Af zool Khan had died, when the planets showed that he 
 should be victorious, might there not have been some mistake ? Here 
 at least there was none ; none in the restoration of her child, as she 
 called Tara, from death to life — none in her having been rescued from 
 the evil idolaters and Kafirs, to be newly born into the true faith, 
 acceptable to Alia and the Prophet. All this was very plain and 
 incontrovertible. 
 
 Could Tara deny it ? It was not clear that she even attempted to 
 do so : and ever nigh her, were anxious pleaders against any justifica- 
 tion of the rites of her own faith, from the most horrible consumma- 
 tion of which, she could not possibly have escaped. " Even your 
 father and mother could not have saved you had they desired it," 
 argued Zyna, "from dying in the fire before them: they would have 
 seen you burned, and shouted 'Jey Kalee!' with the rest, to drown 
 the scream of your dying agony; but they would not have relented." 
 1^0 ; Tara's heart told her they would not have relented, and she 
 must have perished, but for Fazil. 
 
500 TABA : 
 
 And when lie pleaded ? — It was long before lie attempted it ; but 
 it was at last irrepressible. More than his sister and Lnrlee, he knew 
 what struggle would ensue in Tara's heart if she were called upon 
 too suddenly to renounce her own faith ; for he had lived, young as 
 he still was, more in the world. On this point, he had as yet forborne 
 to address her at all. But such love as his for the deserted girl, must 
 be spoken by himself. Lurlee and Zyna had told him all they had 
 said, and it seemed strange to both that he was silent ; but he had 
 judged rightly. What the girl could bear from them, could not have 
 been endured from him till her bodily strength assisted her mind to 
 bear it, and he waited his opportunity. 
 
 It was the first time she had ever mentioned her own affairs ; 
 almost the only time she had spoken freely at all. She had reverted 
 to the past, to the day of the attack on Tooljapoor, and to Fazil's 
 recovery of her mother's ornaments ; for the Brahmun women had 
 bathed her that day, and she had performed some simple ceremonies 
 of her faith for purification after her illness, and charitable gifts had 
 been distributed by Fazil and Lurlee on her behalf. So she had 
 suffered Zyna to twist a garland of flowers into her hair as she used 
 to do in camp, and to put on her some of the old ornaments which, 
 while she was yet decked for the Sutee, had been brought away with 
 her : and when Fazil, who had been absent all day in the camp, 
 returned before sunset for the evening prayer, he found her talking 
 earnestly with his sister. 
 
 Still pale, but only showing the traces of illness in the purity of 
 her colour, Tara had perhaps never looked more lovely than in the 
 resumption of some of her former richness and elegance of costume ; 
 and as Fazil entered the court, for the moment unobserved by her 
 and Zyna, who were seated together, he stopped involuntarily to 
 regard her. 
 
 Tara would have fled when they saw him, but Zyna would not 
 have it so. 
 
 "Look," she said, "brother, is she not like herself once more? 
 See how I have decked her for her sacrifice of thanks to-day! Surely 
 all that is past is as a dream, and Tara is again what she was the 
 evening she was taken away from us. Is she not, brother ? She is 
 not changed ?" 
 
 " Yes," he said, " changed, I think, in spirit in her new life, as we 
 had hoped — that is all! Tara, sit down: we will all remain together, 
 and you must hear me now, with Zyna as witness. 
 
 "There is nothing new to say," he continued, after^a pause — 
 "nothing. It is only the old tale, once told before, when you believed 
 it : and it is not changed, only confirmed. Ah ! we have both been 
 tried since ; and if out of that trial you have come, like me, strength- 
 ened, then there is no doubt, Tara ! in the deadly struggle by that 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 501 
 
 hideous pile, with the crash of music, and frantic screams of the 
 people in your ears, even then your heart bore witness to me that I 
 was true. Am I false now ? " 
 
 ^'0 no, no, no !" cried the girl, throwing herself uncontrollably at 
 his feet, after her old Hindu fashion. " Not false, not false ! You 
 are my lord and my saviour, and I worship you ! I will be your slave, 
 your servant, for my life, and Zyna knows it ; but consider " 
 
 " Not thus, beloved," he said, gravely but kindly stooping and 
 raising her up, " will I hear that, but so, face to face. There is no 
 shame in it now — none ; for it is our destiny, Tara : let it be as 
 honoured as, methinks, it is loved. Sit there and listen." And 
 Zyna put her arm round her, and they sat down together side by side. 
 
 "I have to say hard words, perhaps, Tara," he continued, "but 
 you must hear them. In saving you from death by fire, I have 
 brought you into a living death from your own faith ; for you are an 
 outcast now, as you know — you cannot return to it. You could not 
 be received as a Brahmun, nor would any other caste assist you. 
 Shaven, denied shelter, and even water, by the very mother who bore 
 you — if she live — ^you must herd with the vilest, and enter that condi- 
 tion of abject dishonour and profligacy which Moro Trimmul intended 
 for you, and from which God — your God as well as mine, Tara — has 
 now delivered you. There is nothing else for you that I can see but 
 death, and that is now gone from you, and will not return. Could 
 you escape this, Tara ? Is this a life for you ? " 
 
 He saw the girl shudder violently, and bury her burning face in 
 Zyna's bosom ; while Zyna, drawing her to herself more closely, said 
 gently, " Listen, listen ; is he speaking the truth ? You do not 
 answer, O beloved!" 
 
 Tara could not reply, but she clung to Zyna the more closely. 
 
 "Or instead," continued Fazil, "there is, what was said once before, 
 in presence of my honoured father — peace be with him ! — which I 
 now repeat, and Alia and the Prophet, who sent me to you, and you 
 to me, are witness of its truth, — that all of honour, all of wealth, all 
 of love and respect that I possess, I will share with you as my wife, 
 till I die. You are not of us, nor of our creed : no matter, we can 
 admit you honourably to both. It is no disgrace to quit the blood- 
 stained belief of Hinduism to join the glorious ranks of the true 
 beUevers ; but a blessed gain, for which, out of all these trials. Alia 
 hath preordained you. Enough, Tara: before Him, your God 
 and mine, and before Zyna, answer to me truly and freely, once and 
 for ever. He is witness that there is no constraint upon you." 
 
 Could she resist that earnest manly pleading — she, already won 
 long ago ? she who, in all her trial, had carried about in her heart 
 that image of glory and beauty, which she could only compare with 
 the heroes and demigods of her own sacred poems — her highest 
 
502 TABA 
 
 standard, — and who, in putting it away, had done so, only to die in 
 tliat horrible, calm despair, which preceded voluntary immolation ? 
 It was impossible ! 
 
 As she sat there, and as he ceased speaking, there rushed through 
 her mind a sudden flood of old memories which, had the love she bore 
 for him been weak, or less deeply rooted than it was, had swept it 
 away as the torrent sweeps dry straws from its bed, and they are 
 seen no more. Father, mother, Radha, the old pleasant memories of 
 Tooljapoor, and the old people ; a happy childhood, a joyous budding 
 into womanhood without care. Next, her service to the goddess, 
 and -all that had come of it — terror, desperation, and living death. 
 She could not serve her now, even did she desire it ; and she could 
 not see the image as before, nor the weird ruby eyes which used to 
 follow her, and seemed to glint into her very heart. She remem- 
 bered the fierce Brahmun, her foe — the glittering fly which she had 
 seen in her little garden — and trembling, clung more closely to the 
 breast on which she was lying ; and, last of all, the hideous pile of 
 black logs, the crash of gongs and drums, the shouts of the people, 
 the fluttering pennons, the torches blazing around her to light her to 
 death, and the agony of two women as they beheld it all, and of an 
 aged man who had come to her and caused her once more to fear 
 
 It takes long to write this ; but all, ay more, rushed through the 
 girl's heart as a strong flood in a moment, tossing and whirling 
 fiercely : yet it shook nothing there. How true was it that, in that 
 long unconsciousness and delirium, the old life had passed away, 
 and the new one came with other obligations to be fulfilled. She 
 was weeping passionately while Fazil was speaking, but when the 
 rush of thought came, it was with awe, which repressed other 
 emotion, and was succeeded by calm, inexpressibly sweet and assur- 
 ing. Yes, love for him had resisted the fury of passion in its last 
 attempt, and she could not control it now. Zyna felt her arms with- 
 drawn from about her, and Tara, covering her burning face, on 
 which the tears were glistening, with her garment, bent down before 
 him, not in prostration, as before, but kneeling and bowing her head 
 reverently, as she joined her hands in an attitude of supplication. 
 
 " Do with me as thou wilt, my lord," she said gently ; " my life 
 is thine, and I am thine henceforth till I die. I am helpless now — do 
 not forsake me ; and God and Zyna are witness that I pledge my 
 troth to thee, freely and humbly. I have no fear — ^none ! it is past 
 now ! " 
 
 " Shabash! Shabash ! Tara," cried Zyna exultingly, clapping her 
 hands ; *' now thou art ours indeed. See, mother," she continued, 
 turning round and looking up, as Lurlee entered, " he asked her, 
 and she has agreed ; and you are witness of it as well as I." 
 
 *' I am witness," said the lady ; " I have heard all, aud I am 
 
A MAIIRATTA TALE. 503 
 
 content. Alia and tlie Prophet have answered my prayers. Ah ! 
 I shall have a precious child to give to thee, Fazil, ere long." 
 
 '' Put her hands into mine, mother," he replied. *' It will feel 
 real, that she is to belong to me hereafter : it will be an earnest of 
 the end." 
 
 "It is not one of the orthodox customs, Fazil," said the lady, 
 gravely and hesitatingly : "and I never saw it done at any betroth- 
 ment ; nevertheless, wait an instant — I will return directly." 
 
 She did so, while they sat as before, bearing a silver salver — on 
 which there were some pieces of sugar- candy, and seated herself by 
 them. 
 
 "Thou art still a Brahmun," she said to Tara, "but thou wilt 
 take one of these from thy mother? There," she continued, as she 
 put a piece into each of their mouths, repeating the blessing, ' ' Bis- 
 milla ! It is done ; ye cannot go back. There should be rejoicing, 
 and music, and feasting ; but, — Bismilla ! it is done, and ye cannot 
 retract. O children ! O children ! she cried, bursting into a flood of 
 tears, "I am a widow, and have suffered sore bereavement; but ye 
 are the hght of my eyes and the only joy of my heart now ! Here are 
 her hands, Fazil," and she took up Tara's, and put them into his — 
 "thine, boy, till the end ! " 
 
 Fazil stooped his head, and put his forehead upon them ; they 
 were not withdrawn, and he fancied that the slender fingers closed 
 on his confidently ; — was it fancy ? 
 
 " They should know of it, if they live," said Tara hesitatingly, 
 and with a gasp in her throat ; "methinks they do live, mother, and 
 that I saw them — there — at Wye — my father and mother ; but it is 
 all confused now, and it may have been a dream during my illness." 
 
 " O no ! " cried the lady, " let them not come between us now, if 
 they live ; but they are not alive, Tara." 
 
 " Perhaps not," she said, with a sigh ; " nevertheless, if my lord 
 would send some one and ask. They would be found in Yishnu 
 Pundit's house at Wye ; and if they are dead " 
 
 "Surely," said Fazil, interrupting her, "I will send Lukshmun 
 even now. If they are there, they should come on at once ; there is 
 no fear. Could you not send a letter, or a token, Tara ? " 
 
 "I will write," she replied; "and here is a ring of my mother's 
 that she loved dearly ; it would have been burned with me ! Let 
 them take it ; and if my lord would write, too, to say — to say — I am 
 alive, it would be enough." 
 
 " It shall be done at once," he said, rising ; " O mother, surely 
 thy science told thee this would be a happy day ! " 
 
 " See ! " exclaimed the lady triumphantly, taking her tablets from 
 her bodice, "you mock the planets sometimes, son, but see ; while you 
 were speaking I looked. Is not this Wednesday ? and, see, here is 
 
504 TABA 
 
 Venus ruling the hour as you sat and plighted your faith ! chil- 
 dren, this cannot be wrong, for the sun is just setting, and the work is 
 finished." 
 
 As she spoke, the last gleam of its rays, as it sank in a glory of 
 gold and crimson, flashed into the apartment, lighting up the girls' 
 radiant faces, and sparkling upon their rich dresses and golden 
 ornaments. 
 
 " Beautiful as thou art, Tara," continued Lurlee, " thou wilt be 
 lovelier still when we deck thee as his bride ; and so may the blessing of 
 thy new mother rest upon thee, and the evil I take from thee now," 
 — and she passed her hands over the girl from head to foot, — 
 " depart to thine enemies ! " 
 
 " Ameen! Ameen! " cried Zyna, as Tara, falling upon her neck, 
 again wept silently those tears of joy which she had with difficulty 
 repressed. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIX. 
 
 " Well sung ! " cried the young Khan cheerfully, and joining in the 
 general applause which followed a pretty Mahratta ballad which the 
 hunchback and Ashruf had just sung, to the accompaniment of a lute 
 played by the former and a small tenor drum by the latter — " well 
 sung ! Where did ye learn that ? " he continued, advancing from the 
 entrance to the court where he had paused as he came out. "It is 
 something new." 
 
 The men, who were seated or lounging about the entrance hall to 
 the house, rose and saluted Fazil. It^was evident at a glance to Bul- 
 wunt Rao that something had occurred to remove the sad expression 
 which his lord's face had worn so long ; for it had given place to one 
 radiant with joy, and he exclaimed cheerily, — 
 
 " Thanks be to the gods ! it is gone at last, Meah ! Never, since 
 we rode together to Pertabgurh, have any of us seen a smile on your 
 face that was worth looking at, or one which was not followed by a 
 sigh, as much as to regret it had ever been there ; so I cry, with thanks 
 to the gods, the grief is gone at last. What say you, brothers ? look 
 at him ; did I speak truly ? " 
 
 Amidst the hearty responses to this congratulation by his retainers, 
 Fazil Khan sat down among them, and the hunchback and Ashruf, 
 stepping forward, assumed the positions of professional ballad-singers, 
 and saluted him. 
 
 " Shall we sing it again, Meah ? " asked Lukshmun ; " you did not 
 hear it all. 'Tis a fancy of my own, about a damsel waiting for her 
 lover, who passes her by with another, and so she goes and weeps." 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 505 
 
 " And we have all been crying over it, Meah," added Bulwunt Rao ; 
 " 'tis so sad a tune too — so plaintive. '* 
 
 " But as I am not in a crying mood, friend," returned Fazil, laugh- 
 ing, '4t would hardly suit me now, so another time — meanwhile there 
 is something to be done which is urgent." 
 
 "Are we to meet a new army, and take our revenge, Meah ? " cried 
 several of the men. '^ Ah, we know the country now, and should not 
 fall into another trap like the first." 
 
 "No, no, friends," said the young man sadly, "there is no such 
 good news as that ; 'tis but a private matter of my own, which our 
 ballad- singers may help, perhaps." 
 
 "We, Meah?" exclaimed the hunchback; "thou well knowest, 
 that if we were bidden to leap into the flames for thee, we would not 
 hesitate. Speak, that we may hear and do." 
 
 " It is somewhat private, friends," said the young man, looking 
 around. " If I might be alone with these and our old friend for a 
 little, no one may take offence ; you will know all by-and-by." 
 
 " Surely not," cried several, rising and going out, followed by the 
 rest. 
 
 " Stay, Bulwunt Rao," said Fazil, putting his hand on his arm, 
 "your counsel may be of use ; " and when they were alone, he con- 
 tinued, " She will not be content unless she sees her father and mother ; 
 and she declares they are at Wye, and came to her the day she was 
 to be burned." 
 
 "Impossible!" cried Lukshmun; "they are dead, and this must 
 be some device of the Evil One — of that old Mother on the hill there, 
 who wants to get her back ; and she has sent spirits in their guise to 
 mock her. She does such things very often, Meah Sahib, and I don't 
 like to hear of this." 
 
 "Well, they must be substantial spirits," returned Fazil, laughing, 
 " for she told us that she had heard them speak, and that she thought 
 her father had lifted her up once. They must be alive." 
 
 Lukshmun shook his head. " I did not see him, or hear of him, 
 at Wye," he said ; *'and as I know them well, I should have recog- 
 nized him and his wife anywhere. And, about the witches — if I 
 were to tell you what I know about the Mother's devices," he con- 
 tinued solemnly, wagging his head, " I should not be believed. Never- 
 theless " 
 
 "Nevertheless," said Fazil, interrupting him, "thou art to go and 
 see — thou and Ashruf. Wilt thou go, lad, if he is afraid of the 
 witches ? " 
 
 "To the death," cried the boy cheerfully; while Lukshmun, leap- 
 ing up into the air, turned a somersault, and came down where he 
 stood. "Go!" he said; "yes, Meah. I have a spell against the 
 Mother and all sorcery, and his majesty the devil to boot, which 
 
506 TABA : 
 
 Pabar Singh taught me. Where are we to go, Meah, and 
 when ? " 
 
 " Now," replied Fazil; "take two of the ponies and ride straight 
 to Wje. Her parents will be found in the honse of Vishnu Pundit, 
 or he will direct jou to them. If they are gone home, or to Poena, 
 or anywhere else, they must be followed up and brought back ; and 
 they mil come when that ring is given to her mother — so she 
 says." 
 
 " They may need money," said the man, musing. " Brahmuns never 
 move without coin. Something for expenses, is the first thing they 
 ask of one. Is it not true ? I^Tevertheless, Yyas Shastree is rich 
 enough. O yes, he knows me, and I can get into Vishnu Pundit's 
 house, too. Come, lad, we must put on the Byragee's dresses." 
 
 Ashruf followed him. While they were absent, Fazil wrote the 
 letter they were fco take, which ran as follows : — 
 
 *' To the respectable and learned in the Veds andj Shastras, Yyas 
 Shastree^ of Toolja^oor, who is hind to his friends; 
 
 ''From Fazil, son of Afzool Khan, with greetings, and the jpeace and 
 salutation of God ; and after ivishing you health and ])rosiierity — ■ 
 
 " Yoib are to Icnoio that your daughter Tar a is here, ivith my mother 
 and sister, in honour and health ; hut she hath heen ill unto death, and 
 being, by God^s favour, restored to life, wishes to see you and her mother 
 urgently, and sends a tohen, by ivhich you may be assured she is here, 
 
 '*You tuill learn more from the bearer, my servant, who is to be trusted; 
 and I ^ray you to lose no time in setting out, for ive aivait your coming. 
 I have sent money for your ex])enses by him, ivhich you are to be jpleased 
 to use freely. ^^ 
 
 The hunchback and Ashruf reappeared after a while in their new 
 costume, which was that of Jogies, or religious mendicants of that 
 part of the country. Orange-coloured turbans and garments, pur- 
 posely torn and ragged, yet withal scrupulously clean ; large strings 
 of wooden beads about their necks, wrists, and ankles ; black blankets, 
 to keep out cold or heat, thrown over their shoulders after a graceful 
 and picturesque fashion ; and the lute and small drum they had used 
 before. The faces of both were smeared with whiting, and the broad 
 trident of Vishnu was drawn in red and white paint upon their fore- 
 heads. The hunchback would perhaps have been known by his 
 figure ; but Ashruf, from the smart Mussulman boy, gaily dressed as 
 became his master's favourite attendant, was utterly transformed, 
 and could not possibly have been recognized. 
 
 " Shabash ! " cried Bulwunt Rao and Fazil involuntarily ; " it is 
 complete — no one could know you." 
 
 " Except by this hunched back of mine," said Lukshmun, "I would 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 507 
 
 wager that I went anywhere as anybody yon please, Meah, — from the 
 holiest Synd down to the lowest Knllunder — from the Secretary of 
 Ramdas Swami himself, to what I am now, — and was not discovered. 
 Hindu or Mnssnlman, 'tis all the same — only I must have a religions 
 garb on, Meah Sahib : for my mind, you see, having that turn natur- 
 ally, I am most at home in one. Did any one suspect us when we 
 sang ballads in the ambush at Jowly, and found out what Moro 
 Trimmul wanted to do ? or in Wye, when we saw Tara ? O Meah ! 
 this is a joyful errand, for I shall pay a rupee to a Brahmun, and get 
 bathed in the river — just where they were going to burn Tara Bye — 
 to wash away my sins, and be absolved from shedding a Brahmun's 
 blood. The gods forgive me if I killed him ! " 
 
 ''I hope you did," returned Fazil, laughing: "and now, here is a 
 purse of gold, tie it round you, and use what is needed ; and here are 
 the letters which are to be put into Yyas Shastree's own hand. If he 
 cannot get mine read, this ring and her letter will be enough. If 
 they are gone to Poena, or back to Tooljapoor, send Ashruf back to- 
 me, and go on thyself." 
 
 " To the top of Mount Mera, or the lowest deep of Nurruk," cried 
 Lukshmun, snapping his fingers. " Fear not ; we will bring them^ 
 lad — won't we ? and, master, if I have to go on, and can send thee a 
 letter by a sure hand, may I take on my son here ? I cannot sing 
 ballads without him." 
 
 " Ah yes, my lord ! " pleaded the lad, joining his hands, " to bring 
 them to her." 
 
 " Good," said Fazil ; " I trust you both. Go, and be discreet, and 
 God's blessing and mine be with you." 
 
 " And now, my lord," said the hunchback, " let us sing one ballad 
 before we depart — one that she must know well : it will give her hope. 
 Go and tell her that some singers are here who know the ballads of 
 the Bala Ghaut, and will sing her one. She will recognize the tune, 
 for I have heard her father sing it, and they say he wrote it for her, 
 for her name is in it. We shall sing it before Vishnu Pundit's door 
 at Wye." 
 
 " As thou wilt," replied Fazil ; " I will tell her ; " and he arose and 
 went to the inner court door. " Do not follow me," he said to them 
 — " she can hear from hence, and there are women within — it is 
 private." 
 
 Fazil had watched Tara as the prelude began, and he beckoned her 
 to the door. " Come and listen," he said ; "they are singers of your 
 own country, and I have brought them to sing a ballad to you." She 
 arose, and Zyna followed her. 
 
 The hunchback and Ashruf stood at the doorway without, and, 
 after a short prelude, sang, as nearly as we can translate it, as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
508 TABA 
 
 1. 
 
 *' Fast lier teara fell — faster, faster, 
 
 As the days pass slowly by, 
 And her heart is sorely laden 
 
 With the dreary, hopeless sigh. 
 that cruel, ceaseless sighing ! 
 
 Weary tears which sadly fell, 
 All unheeded as she wept them 
 
 Daily by the garden well. 
 
 2. 
 
 " Mother ! Mother ! oft she pleaded, 
 
 Toolja Mata ! hear my vow ! 
 Hear thy daughter's cry of sorrow — 
 
 Why shouldst thou forsake me now ? 
 Not less thine, Mother holy ! 
 
 If my lover come to me ; 
 If he come, a golden necklace 
 
 We, thy children, vow to thee ! 
 
 3. 
 
 As she went for water daily, 
 
 Raised alone the pitcher still. 
 She repeats the prayer and promise, 
 
 As with tears her soft eyes fill ! 
 The goddess watched the weary maiden. 
 
 And her daily burthen borne ; 
 * Faithful,' she cries, * in earthly sorrow. 
 
 Daughter true, no longer mourn ! ' 
 
 " Then next morn, with anklets tinkling. 
 
 The maiden tripped, and ceased to sigh j 
 As she stooped to raise the pitcher — 
 
 Light she felt it lifted high. 
 And sweet words he whispers to her — 
 
 * Tara, all thy sorrowjpast ! 
 Faith and hope have won thy lover.' 
 
 And the vow ? — 'Twas paid at last." 
 
 It was one of tliose plaintive Mahratta airs, at once so mnsical 
 and tender, and whose character is so original, as to deserve the rank 
 of national mnsic. How often Tara had heard it ! Her father had 
 written the words, and composed the air, to amnse her when she used 
 to be sad ; but she had no lover — no one then to take the burden, to 
 help to lift the pitcher, which was so heavy ! Ah yes ! she remem- 
 bered it well, and that her father had said afterwards,' it should 
 not be sung in the house because it made her sadder, for there could 
 be no lover. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 509 
 
 So slie listened, and tlie melody seemed to strike some new and 
 tender chords in her memory, whicli as yet had been nntouched ; and 
 they looked at her wonderingly, and in silence, as the features softened 
 into a smile, and the eyes gradually filled with tears, which flowed 
 as from a fountain within, and rolled silently down her cheeks. As 
 the vow was named, they saw her hand rise to her neck and unclasp 
 the heavy gold necklace she wore, and when the last words were sung 
 she put it into Fazil's hands. 
 
 " Let the Mother have it," she said, " as our vow — she is not angry 
 with me. You will not deny this, my lord, to Tara ? " 
 
 Before they could answer her, a strange brightness seemed to come 
 over her face and eyes, as she looked upward|as if following a vision. 
 " It is enough," she said gently, after a silence which they did not 
 break ; " the Mother is not angry with me — it is accepted, and I am 
 free ; for when the trial came, she says, and Grunga called me, I did 
 not leave her." 
 
 They did not understand then, to what she alluded ; but it was 
 evident that the excited spirit had again wandered into the past, and 
 had returned, more at peace than before. 
 
 "Yes," said Fazil, "as thou wilt, beloved — thy vow shall be truly 
 paid, at last." 
 
 CHAPTER XC. 
 
 On the second morning Fazil's messengers reached "Wye, without 
 interruption, tethered their ponies in the courtyard of a temple, 
 where they obtained shelter, and set about the work they had to do 
 without loss of time. Taking their instruments, they wandered into 
 the bazar, and sang their ballads to willing listeners ; for the hunch- 
 back was a master of his art, and had a willing and skilful pupil in 
 the boy. 
 
 "Wast thou not in the camp at 'Jowly ? " said a man coming up 
 to Lukshmun, " and this lad too, before we attacked the Toorks, — 
 and we let thee go ? Ah yes, and you promised to sing the hymn of 
 the goddess at Tooljapoor, and did not return when we were vic- 
 torious ! Ill for you, for you would have had a share of the gold. 
 By the Mother ! you shall sing it now. Come with me ! " 
 
 "Not so," said Lukshmun; "we are engaged to sing at Vishnu 
 Pundit's house — where is it ? — and shall be free in the evening only 
 and if thou canst direct me to one Moro Trimmul, a Brahmun, and 
 let me go now, we will sing an hour at night for as many as you choose 
 to bring to the temple of Ballajee, where we have put up, and take 
 what you have to give us." 
 
510 TABA : 
 
 "Moro Trimmul ! " cried the man laugHng, "thou wouldst have 
 to go deep into hell for him. Where hast thou been, friend, that his 
 fate did not come to thine ears ? " 
 
 " I was afraid," replied the hunchback ; " I fear fighting, sir ; and 
 if a drawn weapon is flashed in my face, I faint. So we ran away 
 from Jowly — did we not, my son ? and have been travelling about the 
 country ever since, getting what we can. But what of the Brahmun, 
 sir ? was he killed in the fight at Jowly ? '^ 
 
 " JSTo, no — not there," replied the man ; " but he is dead, neverthe- 
 less. Some one cut him down the day the Sutee was carried off." 
 
 " Ah yes, I have heard of that, sir ; the people have strange stories 
 about it ; but who carried her off ? and who killed the Brahmun ? 
 A Brahmun slain ! O the impiety ! " continued Lukshmun devoutly ; 
 " think of that, my son ! A holy Brahmun ! " 
 
 '*I don't know; I was not there," replied the man; ^Sve were 
 still out at Jowly, or it would not have happened : but they said some 
 of Afzool Khan's men, who were starving, made a Durora on the 
 Sutee, and carried her off ; as to Moro Trimmul, he was no loss — a 
 bad man, my friend, though a Brahmun. They might have spared 
 the girl, however, for all the use she was to the Brahmuns after- 
 wards. I wonder no one kept her, for she was very lovely, they say." 
 
 " O sir," cried the hunchback innocently ; " and did she not live ? 
 "Who killed her?" 
 
 " They say not," he replied; "and that the cruel men killed her for 
 the ornaments she wore. There was a woman's corpse found some 
 days afterwards on their track, and the remains were brought here, 
 and her father was told of it. They say he went mad after that, 
 for he believed they were his child's. He married Moro Trimmul's 
 sister, you know. Ah, it is a curious story altogether." 
 
 " Indeed," returned Lukshmun simply ; " I should like to hear it 
 all. If I sing for you to-night will you tell it to me ? " 
 
 " A bargain ! " cried the man joyfully ; " come to us without fail ; 
 we are a jovial lot, and there may be good liquor, and some of the 
 dancers too. I will come for thee. 'Faith, the story of the Moorlee's 
 murder by Moro Trimmul is as good as a scene in a play." 
 
 " What Moorlee ? " 
 
 " O, the Tooljapoor girl, Gunga, who was with him. They found 
 her body under the window of his room 2^i Pertabgurh, hanging in 
 the trees below the precipice, and so the whole came out ; but he was 
 dead before then. One of those dare-devil Mussulmans. had killed 
 him, and they took some of the Sutee wood, and burnt him there, by 
 the river." 
 
 '* Ai Bhugwan! Lord, forgive me for having slain the Brah- 
 mun," ejaculated the hunchback to himself; "and I did it too. 
 Well, I can't help hitting hard when I do hit ; and truly he had 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 511 
 
 rmirdered some one, it appears, so it was only justice after all. Yes, 
 sir," he continued, " 1 understand. And the Sutee's father ? — her 
 name was T— T— T " 
 
 " Tara," said the man ; " and her father is Vyas Shastree of Tool- 
 japoor. He is better now, and I saw him a while ago sitting by the 
 porch of Yishnu Pundit's door, weak, but better ; people pity him 
 very much. Now I must go. You will not forget ? '* 
 
 " No," said the hunchback ; " you will find me at the temple after 
 the lamps are lighted ; till then we must sing about the streets. 
 Come, my son. Let us hurry on, boy," continued Lukshmun. " 1 
 know the house. Do not pretend to notice any one ; we will sing 
 the ballad of the Yow, after the first invocation." 
 
 They passed on rapidly : up a few cross streets and alleys, till they 
 reached that in which was the house that they sought. In the 
 covered alcove, beside the outer door, sat several Brahmuns, appa- 
 rently talking together ; one elderly man, covered with a sheet, was 
 reading. 
 
 Lukshmun and Ashruf began to sing their ballads at the doors of 
 every house as they advanced, and women from within, came out and 
 gave them handfuls of flour or rice, which were dropped into the 
 bag which Lukshmun carried. Gradually, as they came nearer, the 
 hunchback changed the songs to those of his own country, Canarese 
 and Mahratta in turn, and he was sure there must be some, mth 
 which the Shastree was familiar. 
 
 Yes, it was he, reading, while the others sat near him, and con- 
 versed among themselves ; thinner than when the hunchback had 
 last seen him, and looking weak, yet still remarkable and unmis- 
 takable. Once or twice the Shastree had looked up at the singers, 
 not so as to seem to care about their performance, but as if a familiar 
 sound had reached him. Now, however, it came to the turn of the 
 Pundit's house, and the hunchback and Ashruf stopped before it. 
 
 " Go on," said one of the Brahmuns impatiently ; "you have been 
 bawling all down the street, disturbing our meditations, and the 
 Shastree there is weak. Go on, and make no noise." 
 
 "Maharaj," said Lukshmun, humbly putting up his hands, ^^we 
 are under a vow, made before the Holy Mother at Tooljapoor " ("May 
 she forgive me for telling the lie ! " he thought parenthetically), "to 
 sing before every house in Wye, and bring her what we get ; 'tis a 
 good work, learned sirs, and we are poor people, — do not hinder us ; 
 'tis a long way to go, and we are weary. Let us sing you a ballad 
 for our vow, or only a verse, else we cannot go on." 
 
 " Make haste then," said the first spokesman impatiently. 
 
 Lukshmun returned the lute ; and as he played the prelude which 
 Tara had heard, he saw Yyas Shastree, who had not noticed him, look 
 up. His large eyes were opened to the full, and he leaned forward 
 
512 TABA : 
 
 \vith an expression of intense curiosity. Then tlie singers broke at 
 once into the ballad : — 
 
 " Fast her tears fell — faster, faster, 
 As tlie days pass slowly by." 
 
 *' Hold ! " he exclaimed, waving his hand ; " who are ye ? and 
 whence come ye? " 
 
 *' From Tooljapoor, Pundit," said the hunchback humbly. 
 
 '' Who taught you that ballad ? " 
 
 '^ No one taught it me. I heard it, and have remembered it. They 
 say one Yyas Shastree composed it. Maybe you have heard of him, 
 sir. He had a daughter named Tara. She was a Moorlee. I have 
 heard they are all dead now." 
 
 *' Ye belong to Tooljapoor ? " 
 
 " No, Maharaj ; I am from near Allund — a long way from this ; 
 but the vow I made is for " (" The gods forgive me if I tell another 
 lie ! " ,he said inwardly) — " for a — child — O kind sir ; if the Mother 
 will send me one. Your worship speaks Canarese ? " 
 
 "Yes," said the Shastree, replying in that language; "who art 
 thou ? " 
 
 " Do they understand it ? " asked the hunchback. 
 
 " No," he replied, " none but my wife, and she only a little. Why 
 dost thou ask ? " 
 
 " Can I go into the court ? I know all the ballad, and can sing it 
 sweetly for the women ; they always like it," returned Lukshmun. 
 "Will you listen, Maharaj ? 'tis not very long; " and as they went in, 
 they sang on more loudly and confidently than before. Som'e 
 women of the house came and looked at them, and listened, and 
 among them were Anunda and Radha. The hunchback looked from 
 the Shastree to his elder wife, and saw the tears falling from both 
 their eyes ; at last the Shastree rose and went in to her, and when 
 Anunda saw him, she burst into bitter weeping. 
 
 " Grieve not for one at rest," Lukshmun heard him say ; " at rest 
 in the peace which was denied her here. Yet the old ballad moves 
 me strongly, wife. Come hither," he cried to the singers ; " take 
 this for the sake of ... . No matter now ; I am Vyas Shastree, 
 and what strange chance hath sent you I know not, but take this," 
 and he offered money. 
 
 " The gods be thanked ! No ; not from you," exclaimed Luksh- 
 mun, in Canarese. " Come aside," he continued in the same tongue, 
 " for I have that to tell you and her, which will give you new life 
 and strength. Listen," and he whispered in the Shastree's ear ; 
 " Tara lives, well and in honour. I bear a token and a letter which 
 she hath sent you. Come, and I will give it ; 'tis for her mother, 
 and this letter for thee," and he took it from a fold in his turban.^ 
 
 "Anunda! O wife!" cried the Shastree, trembling and gasping 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 513 
 
 for breatli, as lie leaned on her, opening the letter. " She lives — our 
 Tara. Come — he knows of her ; see her own writing, the holiest 
 and most secret Muntra I taught her ; she hath written it." 
 
 " Awaj with ye ! " cried Radha to the other women about, " this 
 is not for your ears ; " and the group were left alone ; for Radha, ad- 
 vancing, shut the door of the court, and stood there with them. 
 
 " Do ye know this ? " asked Lukshmun, when he had disengaged 
 the ring from his inner garment. "Lady, it was to be given to 
 thee, if thou art her mother ! She is well who gave it to me, three 
 days ago." 
 
 Her mother ! Who could doubt it who saw Anunda then ? The 
 piece of gold spoke a thousand loving greetings to her. She laughed 
 and cried by turns. She could speak nothing intelligibly. She 
 kissed it rapturously, and hugged it close to her bosom, then looked 
 at it till the tears rained from her eyes, and again did the same. A 
 new life ! a new daughter ! bom again, as it were. Anunda could 
 not believe it. 
 
 "Thou art mocking us," she said at last, as a revulsion of feeling 
 appeared to possess her. "This was among the jewels given to 
 Janoo Naik, when .... she never got it." 
 
 "True," replied Lukshmun, "and she has the rest," and he 
 enumerated them ; " and here is a letter about her from my master, 
 with whom she is. Listen to me, I can tell you better than that 
 writing." 
 
 Listen ? ah yes, to the sweetest tale they had ever heard, did they 
 listen for hours. The Brahmuns at the door wondered, and the 
 people from within came and looked and wondered too, why the 
 Jogies sat here talking to the Shastree — but still they sat. Once, 
 for a moment, the Shastree's cruel belief rose up against him, and 
 forbade him to see an outcast ; but nature asserted its own.. " They 
 dare not meddle with me," he thought, " and we cannot be as she 
 is. But no matter, we will go to her, wife ; yes, we will go to- 
 morrow. Get the things ready. Thou wilt guide us, friend ? '' 
 
 " And guard ye, too, with our lives," said Lukshmun. "Yes, to- 
 morrow early, we will set out." 
 
 And so next day Vishnu Pundit and his friends marvelled that 
 the Shastree and his family left them so suddenly, and knew not 
 why they went, or whither. 
 
 CHAPTER XCL 
 
 We need not relate how the hunchback was washed clean from his 
 sins, how he and his companion entertainwd those who came to them 
 
 2l 
 
514 TABA 
 
 that nigM, nor how he resisted their temptations to stay and sing to 
 
 others, who, they told him, would load him with gold. Those he 
 
 \ was taking to his master were more precious than gold; and 
 
 ^ the same anxiety to present them to him in safety, was shared 
 
 equally by Fazil and by Tara while awaiting their arrival. 
 
 Five days, — two to go and three to return — perhaps more ; never 
 had time appeared so interminable to those who remained at Kurrar : 
 never had journey appeared so wearisome to the Shastree. The 
 spirit within him was strong and earnest, but he had suffered much ; 
 and, till roused by the hunchback's tidings, Anunda andRadha 
 feared that he had sunk into that lethargic apathy which often pre- 
 cedes death. He could not be awakened from it. Had Tara died a 
 Sutee, it might have been endured. Excitement and religious en- 
 thusiasm, even the glory of the voluntary sacrifice, would have 
 deadened nature for a while, at least, in both her parents ; but the 
 attack upon the sacred procession, though but one had died in it, by, 
 as they supposed, lawless robbers — and the subsequent murder, as 
 they believed, of their child — had produced a revulsion which, to 
 the Shastree, had wellnigh proved fatal, and for many days those 
 about him gave up hope of life. The remains, as they supposed, of 
 Tara had, as we know, been brought in, and burned by the river- 
 side with all due ceremony ; and after the period of mourning and 
 impurity had passed, the Shastree and his wives were to have set 
 out on their return home. Still, however, they lingered ; for the 
 climate had not agreed with Anunda, who had, in her turn, fallen 
 ill with fever, and they could not travel. 
 
 During this period, they had heard from friends much of what 
 had befallen Tara : and yet not all of Moro Trimmul's share in her 
 misfortunes. The only person who could have told them truly was 
 Gunga, and she was dead. Radha had her own suspicions of her 
 brother ; but beyond his wild attempt on the day of the Sutee, to 
 induce her to put Tara into his power, she had not seen him ; and 
 his violent death, while it affected her mouj^nfully, ended her anxie- 
 ties ere the murder of Gunga was discovered. 
 
 It was with difficulty that the impatience of the Shastree and 
 Anunda could be restrained. They reached and passed Sattara the 
 first day, and would fain have travelled by relays of men without 
 resting, but the hunchback and Bulwunt Rao, when they joined him, 
 would not hear of increased exertion. " I will write by a speedy 
 messenger that you are safe," he said ; *'but if I do not bring you in 
 well to them, my lord will .be angry, therefore submit yourselves to 
 necessity," — as, indeed, they were obliged to do. 
 
 Of his master's intentions, the hunchback had said nothing. Who 
 was he, to know anything about them ? The lady Tara was in 
 honour as a guest; that was all he knew. Yes, his master had 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 515 
 
 carried her off. Conld lie know tliat one wlio had been his guest, 
 and had truly eaten of his salt, was to be burned alive, and not 
 make an effort to save her ? and she was still a Brahmun, and had 
 Brahmun women attending upon her. 
 
 But Bulwunt Rao, who waited their coming at a village on the 
 road with an escort of the Paigah, had no such discretion, and told 
 what he believed — that Fazil and Tara had been privately betrothed. 
 The lady Lurlee, he said, had one day distributed suger- candy and 
 pan to all the household, and to the mosque and other holy places in 
 the town : and some had been sent to him on a silver salver covered 
 with a cloth of brocade. What did that mean? And when the 
 Shastree remonstrated, with a natural horror, at the idea of a Brah- 
 mun girl marrying a Mussulman, Bulwunt Rao replied curtly — 
 
 " What could you do with her, Shastree, if you had her ? You 
 see she is no longer a Brahmun, but an outcast. You could not 
 even give her water; and the two old Brahmun women who at- 
 tended her in her illness, and the one who now waits on her, will 
 have to be purified vnth plenty of ceremonies — and plenty to pay 
 for them, too, will be needed; but do not care for that, Shastree, 
 my lord is very wealthy. So, you see, we must give her up as a 
 Hindu, and even let her go into the other faith." 
 
 The Shastree would groan at these home truths, but could reply 
 nothing. As to his wife, she rejoiced heartily, and had no misgiving. 
 The expression of a mother's nature would not be denied to Anunda ; 
 for there is no mother with the experience of a life's love grown 
 into her heart, who does. not rejoice in the thought of a wife's use- 
 ful happiness to her daughter, and in the expectation of its fruits ! 
 All that had been done to soothe Tara, to distract her mind, to fi.ll 
 up the vacant place there with other interests — learning, religious 
 exercise, and devotion to the service of the goddess — had been tried 
 in turn, and were, as Anunda felt, but a mockery. 
 
 Possibly, most probably, indeed, under other circumstances, Tara's 
 pure mind would eventually have taken refuge in asceticism, and 
 those severe penances, in which the woman who had persecuted her 
 at Pertabgurh, had grown to take dehgbt ; but, knowing the too 
 frequent condition of the indulgence of lawless love by women 
 situated like her daughter, and exposed to the same temptations, 
 Anunda had often trembled for her safety ; and yet owned to her- 
 self that, to doubt her, was profanation. 
 
 No, she could not object. Had she been simply asked the ques- 
 tion previously, as a proud Brahmun woman, she must have refused. 
 Now, circumstances had put that far beyond her reach. To object, 
 would not retard the final issue, or influence it in any way ; but to 
 consent joyfully, would add so much, and so supremely to Tara's 
 happiness, that opposition quickly grew to be an impossibility in the 
 
516 TABA : 
 
 good lady's mind : and before slie came to the end of tlie first day^s 
 journey, Fazil himself could not have desired a warmer advocate. 
 
 A good deal of this fell out from being left to herself. Palankeens 
 had been hired ; and as the three travellers were carried on singly 
 for hours together, each had fallen into the train of thought most 
 congenial. Radha had certainly no voice in the matter, but waS 
 delighted. Anunda, between joy for her recovered child, and her 
 new prospects of an honourable life, had been wellnigh beside her- 
 self at first, and the quiet soothing motion of the litter was of all 
 things the best, perhaps, to calm her, and bring her practical mind 
 into perception of the true realities of the position. "We have 
 mourned her as dead," she said to herself, "we have performed all 
 the ceremonies, and distributed all the charities necessary for the 
 occasion ; now she is alive after all, and born again into a new 
 faith ; so the death which we believed in, was a type of what was to 
 be fulfilled. I see it all now," she said to herself, " and so it has 
 been ordered for her without the pain of burning. Strange, my 
 husband does not see this, but I will tell it to him when we arrive." 
 
 And so she did. Radha, too, caught up,this tone of argument as 
 best suited to her husband's mind, and the two women agreeing, left 
 him little to say. It did not appear he had anything to urge or to 
 object. " This is some punishment for her sins in an earlier life," he 
 said to Anunda ; "and 'tis well it is no worse." 
 
 Anunda and Radha could not see the punishment, except that Tara 
 would have to eat unclean things ; otherwise, what was left to be 
 desired ? 
 
 If this was their deliberate opinion at the close of the first day's 
 march, — the second day, and the quiet jogging motion of the litters, 
 the change of air and scene, and the peace which had settled gradually 
 into their hearts, had much more than confirmed it. Whatever there 
 was of objection, was dealt with on the first evening ; and on the 
 second, as they rested for the night, impatience to see their child once 
 more, an irrepressible yearning to place her happiness beyond doubt, 
 or chance of mishap, had driven out all other feeling. So, on the 
 third morning, as they entered their Htters for the day's journey, and 
 knew they would reach Kurrar before sunset, Anunda, who laughed 
 and cried by turns in a strange manner, as she dressed their morning 
 meal herself before they set out, saw, with a thankful heart, that the 
 heavy care which had sat on her husband's spirit for so long had 
 passed away, and his old placid, benign expression, had taken its 
 place. 
 
 That afternoon, as the sun's rays lengthened, and were filled with 
 that golden radiance which clothed the meanest objects with glory, 
 and lighted up the town and fort, and the camp beyond, — the little 
 procession of the three palankeens, and the small body of horsemen, 
 
A MAHBATTA TALE, 517 
 
 approaclied tlie town gate. Bulwnnt Rao had timed their arrival to 
 suit the lady Lurlee's desire, for the astrological tables had been once 
 more consulted, and the MooUas of several mosques had been obliged 
 to declare the most fortunate hour for the entry of the party into the 
 town. Messengers, too, had met them, enjoining care in this respect ; 
 and Bulwunt Rao and the hunchback were both relieved by the 
 appearance of a last emissary at the gate to express approval of their 
 arrangements and to urge them on. 
 
 No need of hastening now. The bearers themselves were in hurry 
 enough ; for Bulwunt Rao's promise had been liberal, and they had 
 kept the horsemen at a brisk canter for the last few miles of the 
 journey. Now, therefore, shouting and hallooing to each other, the 
 men who carried the litters, rushed through the gate of the town, 
 and up the main street at their utmost speed ; and there was a race 
 between the three sets, in which Anunda's were victorious, and 
 clamoured for largesse as they set down her palankeen before the 
 door of the kind merchant's house where Tara still was. Much the 
 good lady had deliberated in her mind whether she could ever be 
 touched by Tara without pollution, and whether it could be avoided ; 
 and we believe we are correct in saying that she had determined, if 
 it were to cost her half, or all the money she had left in the banker's 
 hands at Tooljapoor, she did not care, but she must hold her child 
 once more to her heart. 
 
 Could she have repressed it ? Ah no ! a very outcast in shame, in 
 misery, in misfortune — no matter had it been so — the loving mother's 
 heart would still have been open, as her arms, to receive her child ; 
 but in Tara's renewed life, as it were, in joy and in honour, what 
 signified the temporary impurity of contact with one only impure by 
 the hard rules of their sect ? Anunda trembled very much, and 
 scarcely knew how she got out of the litter ; but as she emerged, a 
 figure she could hardly see for the tears which blurred her sight, and 
 which seemed to swim before her, bowed down and kissed her feet, 
 was raised up, and, falhng on her neck, wept aloud. Then it was 
 strained to her heart with a face buried in her bosom which dare not 
 look up, till her father and Radha entered, and Tara, prostrating her- 
 self before him, clung to his knees sobbing. With him, too, some 
 scruple about touching her had remained ; but his emotion on sight 
 of her could not be resisted, and he raised her up and blessed her as 
 of old. I do not think any of them could speak, and if they did say 
 anything, it was not4ntelligible enough to be recorded, and is better 
 imagined. 
 
 Then Anunda sat down, for she was very dizzy : and Tara saw 
 the loving arms stretched out, and went and lay down in them on the 
 soft bosom in her old place, and hid her face there, and felt her 
 mother's tears fall hot and fast upon it, while her own were wiped 
 
518 TARA 
 
 away by the dear hands that had often wiped them before. By-and- 
 by she looked up, and her mother saw in the clear soft eye, in the 
 ineffable expression of her countenance, that all trouble and anxiety 
 was past. No more excitement now, false and mocking, even though 
 sustained by religious fervour ; and the peaceful calm which had 
 grown upon the face since her recovery, was a new expression to her 
 mother, which she felt could not change again. 
 
 Then Lurlee came with Zyna presently, when the Shastree had 
 been sent away, and, putting Tara aside, Anunda arose and bowed 
 before her, kissing her feet, and embracing her knees. " She is thy 
 child now, lady," she said; "take a mother's thanks and gratitude 
 for her honour and her life. In our simple Hindu fashion, we know 
 no other salutation, else it would be given." 
 
 " Nay, not to me, but to Alia, who hath preserved her — not we," 
 replied Lurlee. " Noble ye are, though of another faith. Let us em- 
 brace as sisters, to whom our mutual Grod hath given one daughter." 
 
 " It must be done, sooner or later," said Anunda to herself, as she 
 withdrew from Lurlee's arms, " and better at once. Come hither, 
 Tara : see how soon I give thee away, my child, af fcer I have recovered 
 thee. Wilt thou forgive me ? Take her, lady," she continued, putting 
 Tara into Lurlee's arms; "thou art more her mother now, than I. 
 She hath been born to thee in a new life ; be it as thou wilt unto her." 
 
 " I take her," replied Lurlee, " as she is given, freely and truly. I 
 had no child, lady, and often had prayed for one, and Alia and the 
 Prophet gave her to me long ago, before all this misery, and when 
 my lord lived, who would have rejoiced with us to see this day had 
 he been spared. Yes, believing you dead, we took her to be our 
 child, he and I. Now you have given her to me, and the gift is 
 precious and is accepted : but I will not take it yet ; we are proceed- 
 ing home, and you will come with us, — we will travel together. When 
 we arrive, I will receive her ; till then, let her remain with you ; as 
 yet she is pure from us " 
 
 " Yes, mother, I am pure, I have transgressed nothing," said Tara 
 gently. " I know," she continued, interrapting Anunda, " I am not 
 as before ; but you can give me what I need till — till .... and 
 there is no help for it now." Anunda and the Shastree did not object, 
 and so it was settled among them. 
 
 How much they had to learn of each other's acts ! Nor was it till 
 Tara told all, and they understood what the infamy of Moro Trimmul's 
 conduct had been, that they felt the true honour of Fazil's character, 
 or the deep loving kindness of the lady Lurlee and his sister. A 
 grateful subject was this, now that she could speak unreservedly with 
 Radha and her mother, and Tara had to repeat her tale again and 
 again to willing ears. Sometimes her father, too, listened wonder- 
 ingly ; and there was no part of it upon which he dwelt with more 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 5] 9 
 
 pride, even to rapture, tliaii Tara's simple relation of tlie ordeal, and 
 her devotion of herself to a cruel death rather than to dishonour. 
 
 "A true Brahmun thou," he would say, passing his hand over her 
 head as she read him the old lessons, " and thou wilt not forget these, 
 nor the Mother. If thou hadst failed, even to death, she had not 
 released thee from thy vow. As it is, see, she would not be denied a 
 life ! He used to scoff at her, and she drank his blood — not thine, my 
 faithful child, not thine — and gave thee a new life, which will be 
 happy. Yes, the Khanum's skill in astrology is good, for my own 
 calculations confirm her results, and, comparing his scheme of 
 nativity with thine, Tara, there is no discordance." But, neverthe- 
 less, the fact of FaziFs being born a Moslem and Tara a Hindu, often 
 puzzled Yyas Shastree more than his science could explain, or than 
 he cared to acknowledge. 
 
 CHAPTER XCII. 
 
 Theee were many cogent reasons, public as well as private, why Fazil 
 Khan's presence in Beejapoor was urgently required. Soon after 
 his arrival at Kurrar, he had received the King's letter of condo- 
 lence on his father's loss, with confirmation of all his estates and 
 privileges, and with them a private letter in the King's own writing, 
 urging him to come on without delay. The full effect of the 
 destruction of the army had as yet, perhaps, hardly been felt, and 
 the means of retrieving the disaster, or repelling the invasion which 
 was likely to follow, were difficult to devise. As usual, the royal 
 counsels were much distracted ; but, young as he was, the character 
 which Fazil Khan had acquired among the soldiery during the few 
 short months of this campaign had raised him already to a rank far 
 beyond that of his contemporaries, and even many of his elders. 
 Only for Tara's long illness he would have proceeded to Beejapoor 
 immediately after his arrival at Kurrar, and left the duty of collect- 
 ing the fugitives to others; but that had rendered delay unavoidable, 
 and all those who had escaped slaughter had joined him. On the 
 other hand, Kowas Khan wrote that his preparations for the fulfil- 
 ment of his marriage-contract were complete, and protested against 
 further delay : and when the days of mourning for his father should 
 expire, Fazil had no valid excuse for procrastination. In this the 
 lady Lurlee agreed perfectly, and her idea of a double marriage in 
 the family was by no means unacceptable. 
 
 In truth that long-desired event much occupied the good lady's 
 thoughts, almost, indeed, engrossing them. What preparations 
 would not have to be made ! and all by her. There were Zyna's 
 
120 TABA 
 
 clothes and Tara's to be put in hand immediately ; there were stores 
 of flour, and butter, and spices, and sugar to be laid in, flocks of 
 sheep to come from Afzoolpoor, all the dancing women in Beejapoor 
 to be engaged, fireworks to be made, and sweetmeats without end. 
 All the new bridal ornaments had to be designed and executed, and 
 this was no easy matter. Inshalla ! however, she was determined it 
 should all be done ; and when Lurlee Khanum took anything into 
 her head, there was less difficulty, perhaps, in doing it, than with 
 others who talked more. 
 
 They did not tarry now. An express was sent to the capital that 
 they had determined to leave Kurrar on the ensuing Monday, and 
 Lurlee was more than ever particular that on this, their last volun- 
 tary journey, all that could be done to insure its being propitious, 
 should be observed. They were to travel south-eastward, and Mon- 
 day was the sixth day of the month, so that the mysterious " Murdan- 
 ool-Ghyb" (the invisible being) was behind them, as he ought to be. 
 The old tablets showed, too, that Venus ruled the hour before noon, 
 which was a very convenient time for starting, because everyone would 
 have bathed and eaten, and they could travel on till evening without 
 difficulty. Now, too, the weather was cool, nay, the air was positively 
 (;old in the early mornings, when exposure to it was not wholesome, 
 and all their preparations were made accordingly. As they were 
 about to enter their litters, the good lady made both the girls and 
 Fazil look at themselves in a glass, which was the crowning cere- 
 mony of all ; and we believe that there never were merrier faces, or 
 a journey begun in truer hope, and with more thankful hearts. 
 
 True, Lurlee missed the familiar countenance which, though 
 sometimes it used to look kindly on her, and sometimes was im- 
 patient, was in the main a loving one — sadly, — very sadly ; and as 
 the city grew nigh, she had a dread, shared by Zyna and her brother, 
 that the first days in the old house would be inexpressibly painful. 
 So, also, when remembrances of the dear old Khan came over her, the 
 good lady would weep plentifully and be the better of it ; and Goolab 
 and the cook Kurreema, who, having escaped the Mahrattas, rejoined 
 her mistress at Kurrar, and had shared all her trials, were ever ready 
 with pithy consolations, and practical expectations of the blessings 
 in store for her which, indeed, she was well inclined to believe. 
 
 We may say, too, as perhaps hardly unnatural, that Zyna's 
 approaching marriage was by no means terrible in contemplation : 
 and the eagerness of her betrothed to have it concluded, gave earnest 
 of the happiness which she hoped for, indeed felt assured of. We 
 feel that we do not know much of this young man, and that, if it 
 had fallen to his lot to accompany the Khan's army, he might have 
 become a prominent character in this history, and displayed that 
 devotion for Zyna and his friend Fazil, which we believe he really 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 521 
 
 possessed. But after all, perhaps, it was better as it was. Who can 
 say, for instance, whether he would have escaped the bloody field at 
 Jowly, or the massacre in the ambush at Pertabgurh, — or the deadly 
 fever of the forests and jungles, which had destroyed so many who 
 had escaped the sword ? 
 
 We have no doubt, too, had the lady Lurlee set herself to work to 
 find out astrological reasons why he did not accompany the Khan, 
 that they would have been discoverable : but as she had agreed with 
 her husband that, for the present, he was better away, so she had 
 left these mysteries unsolved, and the issue to the young man had 
 been favourable. Not only had his house been put in order in all 
 respects, and the ceremonies after his father's death completed, but 
 those preparations begun in which Zyna was so deeply interested, 
 and of which our friend the Lalla, who, as we know, had been 
 attached to the young nobleman by Afzool Khan as secretary, wrote 
 minute and eloquent accounts. 
 
 According to him, never had such preparations been made : while 
 the accomplished scribe exhausted the Grulistan, the Mejnoon-i- Leila, 
 and other love-stories, for the choicest couplets to adorn his letters, 
 he not unf requently composed other verses himself. Most frequently, 
 too, in the bold rough hand which Kowas Khan wrote, there would 
 be a postscript to say Fazil (which meant Zyna) was only to believe 
 him as devoted as ever in all respects ; and whenever Fazil gave 
 these epistles to his sister to read, and directed especial notice to the 
 postscripts, we are strongly inclined to consider that she found them 
 by far their most acceptable portions. Under the constitution of 
 Mussulman society, even had her lover been in camp, he could have 
 seen nothing of Zyna, and she would have been in stricter seclusion 
 from him, perhaps, than others. As she was content to take him 
 upon hearsay, and to trust, like all her people, to after-life with him, 
 to know him as a lover and husband too, we do not see what business 
 we have to discuss the matter at all in this narrative. 
 
 So the journey was soon over, and little more than a hundred 
 miles, with a light equipage, was quickly traversed. Lurlee had 
 written to her old friend, the Moolla of the ward in which they lived, 
 to send a special messenger to inform her at what hour it would be 
 lucky to enter the house with two expectant brides in company ; and 
 that Vorthy, in conjunction with other friends, had duly solved this 
 knotty question : and sent a return express to meet them at the last 
 halting-place, wherein all the particulars were duly disclosed, and, we 
 need not say, most scrupulously observed. 
 
 Fazil had wished to ride on several stages in advance and get to 
 court, where the King looked anxiously for his coming ; but Lui'lee 
 would not hear of it. '' Who could tell," she said, " what might not 
 result from so incautious a proceeding ? They had met with great 
 
522 TAEA 
 
 misfortune, which was happily past ; were they to risk more ? No ; 
 she was positive ; " and we believe fully, that they were all much too 
 happy together, to wrangle with her. 
 
 Fazil saw Tara daily ; and she and Zyna were little troubled by 
 Lurlee, who was now busied in consultations with her domestic ad- 
 visers, which appeared to be delightfully interminable. Every now 
 and then, however, she would come into the tent where they sat — for 
 Zyna was teaching Tara the pretty embroidery-work she practised 
 herself — and, looking at Tara and saying nothing, would pass her 
 hands over her, and press them against her temples, to remove evil, 
 and then go away smiling. 
 
 Ah yes, she was very precious now. If Zyna or Tara laughingly 
 asked how much evil could have accumulated in those short intervals, 
 the good lady would shake her head, and once shocked Zyna by 
 saying, that she should not think even, of Tara's beauty, lest it should 
 altogether depart. We believe, however, that Zyna did not fear such 
 a catastrophe. It was growing much too palpable and real to be 
 doubted, or to be in danger of fading away : and became only the 
 greater when, as Zyna looked at it, and whispered something which 
 was probably a secret between the girls, though Anunda guessed it as 
 she sat with them, Tara covered her face, or hid it in Zyna's neck, or 
 in her mother's bosom. 
 
 But the first few days after they arrived — in spite of congratulations 
 of friends — of kind messages from the palace — of piles of Nuzzurs, 
 or offerings of various kinds — were melancholy ones to all, yet tem- 
 pered with grateful acknowledgements of providential care. Imme- 
 diately on arrival, the requisite offerings were despatched to all the 
 holy places of the neighbourhood and the city itself, as they had 
 before arranged. The old Moolla, as almoner, collected a strange tribe 
 of vagrant Fakeers, who were fed to repletion in the large court- 
 yards ; and the Shastree and Anunda made their offerings after their 
 own fashion, at Hindu temples. 
 
 The journey, and the constant association with Lurlee and Zyna, 
 had done much to reconcile Anun da to Mussulman ways ; and, per- 
 haps, in such matters women are more facile than men, for she was 
 prepared for the evidences of wealth and rank which she saw on her 
 arrival ; but her husband and Fazil did not make much progress. 
 The simple Hindu priest could not bring himself to be on an equality 
 witli the young Moslem noble ; but he admitted the respect of Fazil 
 for him gratefully, and a sincere affection sprang up between them 
 out of it, which, if undemonstrative, was not the less permanent. 
 
 All Vyas Shastree now wished for, was the unavoidable termina- 
 tion. Till it took place he was not in his proper position. Few, if 
 any, Brahmuns knew the history of Tara in the capital ; but he did 
 not feel justified, being impure, in visiting members of his own sect, 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 523 
 
 till lie had performed expiatory ceremonies, and so, with his wives, 
 kept himself secluded in a conrt of the house specially allotted to 
 him, and the garden we know of, the shade and quiet of which suited 
 him. Radha, too, required rest and care ; and so a month passed, for 
 Lurlee would not be hurried. She had much on hand, she said, and 
 must do it after her own fashion ; and no one interfered with her and 
 her assistants. 
 
 Perhaps we need not follow the good lady to the end of it ; but as- 
 all matters of this kind, when loving care directs them, have an 
 inevitably happy conclusion, so we are bound to relate that nothing 
 was wanting here. Tara said that Zyna's marriage might be as 
 splendid as it could be made, and suited to the rank and condition 
 of two noble houses ; but with her it should be different, and so it 
 was. If there was a shade of disappointment upon the old lady's 
 brow, because the son of Afzool Khan was not married with the same 
 splendour as the son of the late Wuzeer, who had no family to boast 
 of, it passed away when Fazil himself declared it could not be other- 
 wise, and the wistful pleading face of Tara confirmed it. 
 
 So, as part of the magnificent ceremony which united Zyna to her 
 betrothed — the like of which had not been seen in Beejapoor for 
 years — Tara was admitted to the Moslem faith, and the blessing of 
 God and the peace of the Prophet said over her as she repeated the 
 new creed, received her new name of Ayesha, and was received into 
 her new home. Then the chief Kazee, who had conducted the 
 prayers, blessed all, and cried with a loud voice, solemnly — 
 
 * ' O Lord God ! grant that such love may live l3etween these couples, 
 thy servants, as was between Adam and Eve, Abraham and Sara, 
 Moses and Suf oora, his highness Mahomed — on whom be peace — and 
 Ayesha. Ameen and ameen ! " and all the assembly repeated solemnly,. 
 " Ameen and ameen !" 
 
 Some of the old Khan's friends wondered, some sneered, some 
 blamed the young man's choice, but more congratulated him ; for, as 
 they said, "though she was once an infidel, she is no w a true believer ; 
 and, after all, was he not free to choose what would best insure his 
 own honour and happiness ? " We are bound to record, however, that 
 those matrons who, being privileged friends and guests, were indulged 
 with a sight of the bride's beautiful face — as Tara's veil was raised 
 from amidst the cloud of gauze and silver tissue in which it was en- 
 veloped — did not wonder at all that it had been irresistible ; and there 
 might have been some envious also, regretting that daughters of their 
 own had lost their chance in the choice which Fazil had made. So, 
 to prevent any evil consequences, Lurlee, with her own hands, waved 
 over Tara's head in succession, tray after tray of lighted lamps and 
 certain condiments which would infallibly avert evil glances, and 
 ended by passing her hands over the bride and blessing her. "Mayst 
 
524 TABA : 
 
 thou be fruitful," slie said, embracing ber, "and remain, with beauty 
 undiminished, the joy of thy lord ; and may his love for thee increase 
 till it is fulfilled and perfected in Paradise. So be thou blessed, O my 
 daughter, altogether!" 
 
 Even more fervently did her mother bless Tara. Although Anunda 
 had cheerfully taken part in those portions of the ceremonies that 
 were possible without clashing with the observances of her own faith, 
 yet for the most part they were strange, and she had felt out of place. 
 But she and her husband were thankful they had witnessed all to the 
 close — thankful that Tara had been with themJio_the. last. Hence- 
 forth their lives must be divided, but there was an assurance of 
 honour and protection to their child which soothed the inevitable 
 separation, and filled their hearts with hope and trust. 
 
 Long she sat alone with them, and they spoke of the future calmly 
 and joyfully. There had been no misgiving from the first; and while 
 they could not, if they would, have recalled Tara to their own faith, 
 they saw in her future life as much of true happiness as they could 
 have wished for. So they blessed her ; and after their own simple 
 fashion put her hands into Fazil's : and he took her from them, and, 
 touching their necks, vowed to be faithful, and they believed him. 
 
 " They have given thee to me, O beloved," Fazil said to Tara, as 
 her parents departed on their journey homewards. " Now fear not. 
 As sacred to me as my vow before the priest, was the last vow to 
 them. Fear not now, Ayesha !" 
 
 " I would rather be Tara to thee, my lord, for ever," she said shyly. 
 ^' The little maiden who, once rescued by thee from dishonour, has 
 Hved in thy heart since then, cannot change to thee, even in name." 
 
 "Be it so," he replied. " To thy new people be Ayesha ; to me, 
 Taxa — so be witness, my Grod and thy God — evermore !" 
 
 CHAPTER XCm. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 Perhaps I ought to have told- my fair readers more of the particulars 
 of this double marriage, but I am afraid they would have found them 
 as tiresome in the relation, as Zyna and Tara did in actual sufferance 
 of the nine days of their continuance. We can at least imagine that, 
 with unlimited means, the jewels and trousseaux provided for both 
 brides by the lady Lurlee (and these things are as indispensable there 
 as here) were — ^perfection. And we may also state thus much in 
 confidence, that particular friends were admitted to private views of 
 them. The young to be envious: the old to be congratulatory — 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 525 
 
 envious too, perhaps, who knows ? — for such things happen there as 
 well as here. Then, as marriage gifts were presented by friends^ 
 there were trays upon trays from the Queen to both of jewels, 
 brocades, and muslins, which need not be specified ; and the royal 
 lady availed herself of her privilege to see the brides, and put sugar- 
 candy into both their mouths, wondering at Tara's beauty, and 
 heartily wishing them both God-speed on their life's journey. 
 
 Did not also the poets of the city write verses, and the singers sing 
 them ; and are they not sung there to this day ? Were there not 
 poor folk fed by hundreds, Hindus as well as Mussulmans, and clothed 
 too ? and was there one of the sixteen hundred mosques in the city, 
 where alms and thank-offerings were not distributed in proportion to 
 their importance ? " No one else remained to be married,'* said the 
 lady Lurlee, when she had collected all the poor couples she could 
 hear of, given them clothes, and had them married with her children. 
 And, Mashalla ! of what had been done, she was in nowise ashamed. 
 No, indeed; and plenteous were the congratulations and blessings 
 showered npon her, and upon them all, by high and low. 
 
 Yyas Shastree, Anunda, and Radha, remained long enough to see 
 Tara reconciled to her new station in life, and to appreciate how 
 irresistibly charming the quiet natural dignity of the Brahmun girl 
 became, among the new society into which her destiny had thrown 
 her. But, beloved as she was by many a sincere friend among her 
 new faith — as years passed, the devotion borne to her by the retainers 
 of the house, the farmers on her husband's vast estates, and the poor 
 everywhere, was most affecting to witness, and increased with time ; 
 and her parents heard with joy and pride, far away in their own 
 home, of the bounty of the good lady, Ayesha Khanum. 
 
 They left their daughter, then, at peace ; and her last connection 
 with the temple, where' her father served, and where she was long 
 remembered, was the presentation to the shrine, of the necklace she 
 had vowed to it, whic^h was taken there in solemn procession, and 
 hung round the neck of the image. Some time afterwards, and when 
 all expiatory ceremonies were completed, Radha's first child was bom 
 — a son, which Anunda adopted as her own : and in her care for it, 
 found love and occupation to fill her heart and her time, and to 
 supply, in some part, Tara's absence. 
 
 Mother and daughter met, however, frequently. N"o entire year 
 elapsed without a reunion, and in the course of time came children 
 too, who climbed in turn about the good dame's lap and called her 
 grandmother. Then her heart clave to them — strangers though 
 they were in faith — and after her own simple fashion she lived much 
 among them during the latter years of a tranquil and happy life. 
 Sometimes the Shastree came with her to Beejapoor, but not often. 
 Fazil Khan lived in stormy times and bore his part in them. The 
 
526 TABA : 
 
 destruction of tlie force under his father's command laad not only 
 been a sore loss to the King's army, both in maUriel and in men,* 
 but a vital blow at the very existence of the kingdom and of the 
 Mussulman power in India. Treacherously as it had been gained, 
 the Rajah Sivaji did not slumber on his victory. His people were 
 assured it had been suggested by divine counsel, and carried out by 
 divine aid, and that their prince thenceforth was an incarnation of 
 divinity. He, perhaps aided by his mother, believed this of himself, 
 propagated the belief, and acted upon the effect of it. He was 
 everywhere active and persevering : now invading the kingdom of 
 Beejapoor, plundering up to the gates of the capital, and inflicting 
 rapid and terrible blows in all directions : now attacking the Moghul 
 posts and forts, and extending his authority until, though professing 
 subservience to both, he became virtually independent equally of 
 Dehli and Beejapoor, and finally assumed the state and insignia of a 
 sovereign. 
 
 Fazil Khan had not long concluded his marriage ceremonies, ere 
 he was called upon to take the command of part of a new army, with 
 which the King took the field in person. Tara would not leave him, 
 and shared the fatigue and peril of the new campaign in a manner 
 which called forth the lady Lurlee's warmest approbation. She had 
 not been more, she said, to his father than Tara was to his son, and 
 she always contrasted her practical usefulness and endurance, with 
 the behaviour of other ladies who could not leave luxurious palaces, 
 and the state and splendour which had greater charms for them, than 
 the rough vicissitudes of camp life. 
 
 For a time the royal forces succeeded in checking the Mahratta 
 incursions and restoring tranquillity on the borders, and Fazil Khan 
 continued, like his father, to render service as a commander whenever 
 he was called upon ; but he could not be induced to take ofiB.ce in the 
 administration, and as disquiet and intrigue at the capital became 
 more formidable, retired for the most part to his estate of Af zoolpoor, 
 near the Bheema river, and usually lived there, visiting Beejapoor 
 only on occasions of ceremony. He never married again, a& the law 
 would have allowed, and at his death was buried beside his wife in 
 the mausoleum which his father had built at Afzoolpoor, and where 
 such of the remains of the old Khan as could be afterwards recovered, 
 had been deposited. The mausoleum still exists as perfect as when 
 built, and on the several anniversaries of their deaths, flowers are 
 strewn by the Mussulman priests of the town and by the people over 
 their graves, and prayers are said for the repose of their souls in 
 Paradise. 
 
 We have said that the Mussulmans of India received their first 
 
 * The loss of the Beejapoor army at Jowly was 4000 horses, with all the gnns, 
 clejjhants, camels, maUriel, and treasure of the army. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 527 
 
 material clieck in the massacre at Pertabgurli, and we state tliis 
 advisedly. That event, in 1657, led as directly to their ruin, and the 
 steady rise of the Mahrattas, as did the English victory of Plassey, in 
 1757, to the destruction of both. For though, by the conquests and 
 subversion of all the independent Mussulman kingdoms of the Dekhan 
 by Aurungzeeb, the empire of Dehli culminated to its highest splen- 
 dour, — it was not maintained : and rapidly fell to pieces under the 
 effects of disastrous civil wars on the one hand, and the increasing 
 power of the Mahrattas on the other. In 1689, Beejapoor was again 
 attacked by the Moghul armies under the Emperor in person, and, 
 surrendering by capitulation, ceased to be an independent kingdom. 
 The rest is matter of general history, with which this particular 
 chronicle has no concern. 
 
 Sivaji died in 1680, after a life which was a stirring romance from 
 first to last, but not before the power he had aroused and created 
 had become for the present invincible — fulfilling his mother's 
 prophecy, that the Hindu war-cry, " Hur, Hur, Mahadeo ! " should 
 be shouted in victory throughout the land of Hind, in triumph to the 
 goddess who led it on, from Dehli to Rameshwur. 
 
 It was singular that Kowas Khan, with his father's tragical fate 
 fresh in his memory, should have been unable to resist the same 
 temptations to treason and treachery. Though he had ceased them 
 for a while, the Emperor Aurungzeeb renewed his intrigues at Bee- 
 japoor ; for Kowas Khan, who became regent of the State after the 
 King Ali Adil Shah's death, entered into negotiations with the 
 Moghul general. Khan Jehan, who commanded in the adjoining pro- 
 vinces, to give a daughter of the royal house in marriage to a son of 
 the Emperor's, and as the price of this, to hold the kingdom of Bee- 
 japoor himself in dependence, which had been his father's aim also. 
 The plot was discovered, however, and Kowas Khan was assassinated 
 in 1675, eighteen years after the events we have recorded. 
 
 Some of his lineal descendants still survive, and the memory of the 
 lady Zyna and of her beauty lives among them. There is a noble 
 mausoleum on the west side of the town of Suggur, in the province 
 of Shorapoor, which, at the period of which we write, belonged to 
 this family. It was begun by the ^'Wuzeer" of Beejapoor, and 
 finished by his son Kowas Khan : and in it the remains of the lady 
 Zyna and her husband rest, under the care of their descendants, who, 
 now reduced in circumstances, have preserved a small village with 
 its lands, which adjoins the tomb, as the only remnant of the once 
 princely estates which were held by their ancestors ; and the revenues 
 of this village, which had originally been assigned in payment of oil 
 for the mausoleum, are now their only support. They are, however, 
 most respectable. The soubriquet of Wuzeer is still attached to 
 them ; and the head of the family, Sofee Sahib, still preserves much 
 
528 TABA 
 
 of tlie "aristocratic" dignity of descent. Tlie family palace at Bee- 
 japoor, though deserted, is still standing, and is, or was, one of the 
 very few private buildings there of which the roof is entire. 
 Perhaps by this time, however, its owner may have been nnable to 
 resist the price he could obtain for its massive teak timbers. The 
 roof may have been sold, and the handsome rooms and courts left 
 open, to decay rapidly under the influence of the seasons. 
 
 A few words in relation to some other characters in our history, 
 and we have done. 
 
 Pahar Singh did not long maintain his promise of abstinence from 
 violence. It had become, together with avarice, the ruling passion 
 of his character, and led him on, after a while, to fresh outrages ; and 
 though pardoned by the King again and again, in memory of his 
 strange services, it was impossible, in the end, to overlook the daring 
 character of his proceedings, and his occupation of royal territories. 
 Nor was it long before Kowas Khan discovered the active share the 
 robber chief had taken in his father's murder ; and though the King's 
 acquiescence in that deed was more surmised than ascertained, the 
 fact of his being acquainted with Pahar Singh's part in it was not 
 afterwards denied. On an occasion, therefore, when, by a more than 
 usually serious outrage, the King's pardon had been absolutely with- 
 drawn, his reduction and punishment became unavoidable, — Kowas 
 Khan led an army against the castle of Itga, Pahar Singh was slain 
 in its defence, his estates confiscated, and the castle and its walls 
 blown up. 
 
 His nephew escaped, but returned to the village to live as a farmer 
 Tinder reduced circumstances. When Aurungzeeb conquered the 
 country, he became again " Hazaree," or commander of a thousand, 
 and the title remained with his descendants, who, however, never 
 abandoned lawless courses. Long afterwards, a descendant, also 
 named Pahar Singh, became a leader of Dekhan Pindarees, or free- 
 booters, after the Mahratta war of 1818-19, and when that crime was 
 no longer practicable, took to a minor practice of it in highway 
 robbery. In 1828-29, the family were found to be largely connected 
 with Dacoity and Thuggee, and the leading members of it were 
 tried, convicted of both crimes, and sentenced to various terms of 
 imprisonment, during which their head, Pahar Singh, died. 
 
 Persevering to the last, the other members, on their release, again 
 took to highway robbery on horseback, and for a brief period were 
 the terror of certain districts in the Dekhan, extending their opera- 
 tions, too, to distant points ; but they were gradually hunted down,* 
 and the last six were brought to justice by the writer of this 
 chronicle in 1850, and sentenced to penal servitude for life. One 
 
 *They were apprehended by the author, committed to the Zillah court of 
 Sholapoor, and there tried by the judge. 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE, 529 
 
 member only of the family survives free, and, as late as 1860, was a 
 private in the police of the district. 
 
 Our friend the Lalla, who played a conspicuous part in the early 
 portion of this history, became a prosperous and wealthy man ; but 
 the question of his honesty remained an open one. He sent for his 
 family, and settled at Beejapoor, and his talents gained him lucrative 
 employment in the state. He remained attached to Kowas Khan, 
 whom he is believed to have corrupted ; and, finally, as the kingdom 
 was on the point of dissolution, he is said to have made peace with 
 his old master, the Emperor Aurungzeeb, by materially assisting his 
 designs, and tampering with the nobility and officers of the state 
 previous to the last investment of the city. He probably returned to 
 Dehli with the royal camp, for no traces of his family are to be 
 found in Beejapoor. 
 
 Bulwunt Rao remained as he was, the leader of a troop of his own 
 horses in the Paigah, or household forces of Fazil Khan. When his 
 cousinand hereditary enemy, Tannajee Maloosray, was killed in that 
 famous escalade of Singhur, near Poona, which has furnished the 
 subject of many a Mahratta ballad, Bulwunt Rao went to Sivaji, and 
 the circumstances he related being well remembered, he obtained 
 substantial justice in the restoration of his hereditary property. 
 Sivaji oifered him service, which was respectfully declined, and the 
 motives for refusal being appreciated, he was honourably dismissed. 
 He married among his kinsfolk, and his wife, a practical woman, 
 kept his house well. Jt is questionable, however, whether his habits 
 were ever reclaimed, and he died before the dissolution of the Beeja- 
 poor kingdom. His wife, finding the care of the troop-horses irksome, 
 sold them, returned with her children to the family estate, and 
 settled there, and their descendants are now connected with many of 
 the noble families of the Dekhan. 
 
 The hunchback, Lukshmun, after his return home, took to Itga 
 all that he had saved, together with a heavy purse of gold which 
 Fazil Khan had given him, which he buried immediately on his 
 arrival. Somehow or other, however, the fact of this gold being 
 possessed by him, got wind, and the idea of a mere retainer possess- 
 ing gold at all, was too much to be endured by his avaricious master, 
 who demanded to see it. We are sorry to record, that the poor fellow 
 was obliged to submit to some rough torture, which was more than 
 he could bear, ere he would surrender it ; but Lukshmun always 
 supposed that it was by the desertion of his master at Tooljapoor, rather 
 than by the possession of the gold, that evil eyes fell upon him ; and 
 perhaps he was right. The gold was given up to his chief, and by 
 it the last link between them was broken ; and profiting b ,' Pahar 
 Singh's temporary absence, Lukshmun, taking his wife and children 
 with him, left Itga one day, and returned to Afzoolpoor, where Fazil 
 
 2 M 
 
530 TABA : 
 
 Khan's retainers were stationed, and was protected hj them. Pahar 
 Singh threatened to burn the town if he were not given up ; but 
 Fazil Khan paid what was demanded for him, and he remained. 
 
 Years afterwards, and as his lord's children grew up, the hnnch- 
 back was their especial favourite. He tanght the eldest boys athletic 
 exercises, the nse of their weapons, and riding ; and as long as any 
 girl was allowed to go ont of the private apartments, he carried her 
 about in his arms, told charming fairy stories, and manufactured 
 playthings — his dolls, being of all, the most hideous, and most de- 
 lightful. Nor was there any greater treat to the children possible, than 
 when their mother sometimes, and especially on certain anniversaries, 
 sent for the hunchback and Ashruf , now a stout cavalier in the house- 
 hold troop, and having seated them outside a screen, made them sing 
 ballads again as they did once long ago; and of all their store, "The 
 Vow of the Necklace," was ever the greatest favourite with the 
 children, because their mother's name was mentioned in it. With her, 
 because — ^well, no matter : we know why, long since, and 'tis now 
 an old story. 
 
 Many years before them, and in all honour among her children, as 
 she always called them, the lady Lurlee passed away. She never 
 gave up astrology, and found perpetual occupation in discovering 
 lucky days for her grandchildren's wants, and for all sorts of house- 
 hold observances. Not a tooth could be cut, or any ailment of child- 
 hood exist and pass away, without appropriate ceremonials of thanks- 
 giving, in the discovery of proper times for which, the old lady was 
 held to be especially skilful. Nor in these only. Was she not the 
 authority of the neighbourhood for ascertaining lucky marriages, for 
 deciding the proper colours for proper days of her grandchildren's 
 dresses ; and did not she keep the cords of all their birthdays, and 
 tie the knots in each as the anniversaries returned? Was she not 
 the undisputed director of all such household family matters, and 
 the universal referee on them by all her acquaintance ? 
 
 Her affection for Zyna and her children remained to the last, 
 though she never cordially liked Kowas Khan, or forgave him for 
 being the son of one who had been a slave. But her love for her 
 own child, Tara — the child whom God had sent her — transcended 
 that for Zyna. It filled her heart, and overflowed upon her grand- 
 children, who loved her dearly, and did with her pretty much what 
 they pleased. After Kowas Khan's death she went to Zyna, and 
 lived with her till her son was old enough to protect his mother ; 
 then she settled finally into the place she held with Tara and her 
 children ; and when she breathed her last, her head lay on Tara's 
 bosom — ^resting peacefully. 
 
 With her outward conversion to a strange faith, did Tara forget 
 the old ? No, it was impossible. Though her studious disposition 
 
A MAHRATTA TALE. 531 
 
 enabled her to master enoiigli Arabic, under her husband's teaching, 
 to understand the daily prayers, and some simple ceremonials, yet 
 the grand old Hindu hymns of the Yedas, and other devotional por- 
 tions of the Shastras, especially the Bhugwat Geeta, were never for- 
 gotten ; and when the purport of them was explained to her husband, 
 he did not object to her reading them. She could not either, change 
 her frugal mode of living ; and, to her death, never overcame her 
 natural repugnance to animal food. In this respect also, her husband 
 indulged her ; though perhaps the lady Lurlee thought it a sad dere- 
 liction of orthodox observances in general, which could only be over- 
 come on the festivals of the Nowroz or the Bukreed, or other occasions 
 of religious ceremonial. 
 
 When Tara was dying, and the Moollas without were chanting 
 the service for her departing soul, her eyes seemed once to flash 
 • with a bright radiance, and her husband and children, who were 
 around her, heard her say gently, "I come, O Mother," and repeat 
 some Sanscrit words. The priests, jealous of her perfect conversion, 
 would have it, that she alluded to Miriam, the Mother of Jesus of 
 Nazareth, for there could be no other Mother. It might, indeed, be 
 so, for she seemed of late to have taken a peculiar delight and interest 
 in this history, especially since some Christian monks from Goa, who 
 had established a mission* at the town of Chittapoor, only a few 
 miles distant, had come to beg alms of her, and had told her of the 
 purer faith of Christ, and his loving mother Mary. It might have 
 been that she spoke of this ; or, more probable perhaps, that her 
 spirit, trembling on the brink of the unknown world, had wandered 
 back into the old days of her trials and deliverances, once, ere it de- 
 .parted. 
 
 * The mission still exists, and is visited periodically by priests from Goa. 
 There are, or were, about seventy Christians in it who, with an affecting 
 simplicity, preserve their faith in purity. They are shepherds, weavers, and 
 distillers. 
 
GLOSSAEY. 
 
 Mia, God. 
 
 AUa-hu-Aklw, Gcd is victorious ! 
 
 Alkah, honorary titles prefixed to 
 
 letters according to rank. 
 Amdn, mercy. 
 Ameen, amen. 
 
 Ashrvffees, gold coins— moliurs. 
 Astagh-fur-oolla, exclamation of abhor- 
 
 rence — God forbid ! 
 
 B. 
 
 Bdhool, mimosa. 
 
 Beehee, lady. 
 
 Bismilla, in God*s name ! 
 
 Bhugiudn, an appellation of the 
 Divinity. 
 
 Bhugwat Geeta, a devotional episode of 
 the Mahabharut. 
 
 57iuttote,Th ag designation for strangler. 
 
 Bukreed, Mussulman festival in com- 
 memoration of the offering up of 
 Isaac. 
 
 Bunij, Thug designation for a victim. 
 
 Burr, the banian tree. 
 
 Burkhast, dismissal of an assembly. 
 
 Bye, Mahratta term for lady. 
 
 Byragee, one of the Hindu sects of 
 devotees. 
 
 C. 
 
 Chenna, a kind of pulse — " gram." 
 
 Cheyla, a disciple. 
 
 Chohdar, mace-bearer. 
 
 Coss, two miles. 
 
 Coss bur, about two miles. 
 
 D. 
 
 Daee, a nurse. 
 Dallal, a broker. 
 Darogha, a superintendent. 
 Devi, the goddess Bhowani. 
 Dhotee, a man's waistcloth. 
 Doojputta, a scarf. 
 
 Duffadar, subordinate officer (military). 
 
 Durhar, a court assembly. 
 
 Durora, gang robbery with violence. 
 
 F. 
 
 Fateha, thank-offering. 
 
 Ganja, hemp leaves cured for smoking. 
 
 Ghee, boiled butter. 
 
 Gooroo, spiritual teacher. 
 
 Gopis, the nymphs of Muttra. 
 
 Goruk Imlee, Adansonia Gigantea. 
 
 Gosai or Gosavee, a sect of Hindu de- 
 votees, who are sometimes bankers. 
 
 Gosha ! Murdliana ! Private ! cried out 
 by their attendants when Mussul- 
 man ladies leave their houses. 
 
 Gowra (Canarese), head authority of a 
 
 village. 
 
 H. 
 
 Hai, Hai ! alas, alas I 
 Hookum, order, direction. 
 Hoondee, bill of exchange. 
 Hu'ineana, waist-belt to carry money. 
 Hur, Hur, Mahadeo ! the Mahratta war- 
 
 cry — invocation to Mahadeo. 
 Hurkara, a messenger. 
 Huzrut, prince — my lord. 
 
 I. 
 
 Inshalla, please God 1 
 
 J. 
 
 Jehdd, religious war — crusade. 
 Jemadar, military officer (captain). 
 Jo Hookum, respectful affiLrmative — 
 
 " as ordered." 
 Josee, astrologer. 
 Jowan, a young man, applied generally 
 
 to soldiers. 
 Jungum, priest of the Lingayet sect. 
 
GLOSSARY. 
 
 633 
 
 Junum-Putr, literally, birth letter — 
 
 " horoscope at birth.'* 
 Junwah, the sacred thread of a 
 
 Brahmun, 
 
 K. 
 
 Kahoh, piece of meat fried or roasted. 
 
 Kafir y infidel. 
 
 Kdmdeo, the Indian Cupid. 
 
 Kasee, Benares. 
 
 Kazee, Mahomedan law officer. 
 
 Khayet, one of the Hindu castes, 
 usually scribes. 
 
 KMlwut, private apartments. 
 
 Khoda Hafiz, God protect you ! 
 
 Khodawund, my lord. 
 
 Khundoha, an incarnation of Siva. 
 
 KicMri, rice and pulse boiled to- 
 gether. 
 
 Kotwal, magistrate of a town or 
 bazar. 
 
 Kowl, deed of protection and as- 
 surance. 
 
 Kucheri, court-house. 
 
 Kullal, publican, spirit seller. 
 
 Kullundur, a sect of fakeers — "calen- 
 dars." 
 
 Kurra, a ring for the wrist. 
 
 Kun^eem, kind, merciful. 
 
 L. 
 
 Lakh, one hundred thousand. 
 
 Lota, a'drinking vessel. 
 
 Luddoo, a sweetmeat made of sugar, 
 
 milk, and flour rolled into balls. 
 Lownee, a Mahratta ballad. 
 
 M. 
 
 Mama, a confidential female attend- 
 ant. 
 
 Mdhd, great. 
 
 Mang, a low caste of Hindus in the 
 Dekhan. 
 
 Mdta, mother. 
 
 Meah, respectful title of the eldest 
 son of a Mussulman family. 
 
 Mirdlia, court usher or attendant. 
 
 Moharuk-hdd, congratulation. 
 
 Moolla, Mussulman priest. 
 
 Motee, pearl. 
 
 Mudd, the line drawn above an address 
 to a superior. 
 
 Muezzin, the caller to prayer. 
 
 Mudud Khana, a shop where intoxi- 
 cating drugs are prepared and used. 
 Mutsuddee, a clerk or scribe. 
 Muttf a monastery. 
 
 N. 
 
 Ndih, agent, deputy. 
 
 Ndik, a title used by chiefs of the lower 
 tribes. 
 
 Nagara, large kettle-drum. 
 
 Narayun, a Hindu epithet for the 
 divinity. 
 
 Nohut, honorary band of music. 
 
 Nohut Khana, the place where the 
 Nobut plays. 
 
 Noiu Ratree, the nine nights before the 
 Dussera festival. 
 
 Nowroz, Mussulman New Year's Day. 
 
 Nullah, a watercourse — rivulet. 
 
 Nummo Narayun ! salutation to a Gosai. 
 
 Numascar ! a respectful Hindu saluta- 
 tion to a Brahmun. 
 
 Nurruk, Hades. 
 
 Nuzzur, offering to a superior. 
 
 P. 
 
 Pacheese, twenty-five, a game like 
 
 backgammon. 
 Padshah, king — emperor. 
 Paigah, household troops. 
 Palkee, an open litter. 
 Pan, betel. leaf . 
 
 Patel, chief authority of a village. 
 Peepul, Ficus Religiosa. 
 Phoolka, a light kind of bread — a 
 
 "scone." 
 Pooree, a kind of light pancake. 
 Pundit, a learned Brahmun. 
 Purmdshwar, a Hindu epithet for the 
 
 divinity. 
 Putwaree, a village registrar and 
 
 accountant. 
 
 R. 
 Jt^TYi, an ancient king of Oudh, se- 
 
 teemed an incarnation of Vishnu. 
 Rdmchunder, an epithet of divinity. 
 Eam4shwar, a celebrated Hindu shrine 
 
 near Cape Comorin. 
 Ramoosee, one of the lower tribes in the 
 
 Dekhan. 
 
 S. 
 Sahih, sir. 
 Saree, a woman's garment in one 
 
 piece. 
 
634 
 
 GLOSSARY, 
 
 Seeta, the wife of " Eain." 
 
 Berdi, a traveller's resting-house. 
 
 Shalash, well done! 
 
 Shastree, a Brahmun learned in the 
 Shastras. 
 
 Sheea, a heterodox Mussulman — fol- 
 lower of Ali. 
 
 Sheernee, rice and milk for thank-offer- 
 ings. 
 
 Shookr, thanks. 
 
 Shookr Ulla, thanks to God ! 
 
 ShuTcti, secret worship of Hindu 
 demons, the rites of which are 
 horrible. 
 
 Shytan, the devil. 
 
 Sirkar, the Government : authority. 
 
 Sonar, a goldsmith. 
 
 Soohhdn-Ulla, praise to God ! 
 
 Soonnee, an orthodox Mussulman. 
 
 Sowar ee, retinue. 
 
 Sree Mata, Holy Mother. 
 
 Sree Svjami, Holy Lord. 
 
 Sudra, the lowest of the four divisions 
 
 of Hindus. 
 Sutee, chaste, faithful. 
 Syn, respectful epithet of a fakeer. 
 
 T. 
 
 Tola, for shame ! 
 
 Tusleemdt, the three obeisances to per- 
 sons of high rank. 
 
 U. 
 
 Ul.humd'Ul-illa, praise be to God ! 
 
 Y. 
 
 Vina, a large lute or guitar with frets. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Ya Alia hureem, merciful God. 
 
 Ya iT/iwbeer-o, O giver of information ! — 
 
 one of the ninety-nine attributes of 
 
 God. 
 
 Z. 
 Zemindar, a land-holder. 
 
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