“One looks for the disciples to be as the Master,” observed Bál Mukand. “The Christian’s heaven may exist, and be all that the Bible describes it to be; but to me the path to it is so dark, that after all my reading, and searching, and thinking, I own that I cannot find it. I never shall be a Christian.”
Shib Das saw that there was no use in arguing with one who refused to be convinced; therefore the Christian remained silent. And soon afterwards Bál Mukand fell asleep.
Bál Mukand was before long awakened by the sound of some one speaking at the front of the shop, but he stirred not, nor opened his eyes; he remained as if sleeping still, and listened unnoticed to the discourse of Shib Das with the stranger, whose name was Karm Illahi.
There was in the shop a scimitar with a jewelled hilt, which had attracted the eyes of Karm Illahi as he passed along the narrow street. At his desire it was now placed in his hand; he examined the blade, he looked at the ornaments on the hilt. Bál Mukand also had, half an hour before, noticed and admired the scimitar, which had been, a short time previously, purchased by Shib Das from an Afghan chief.
The Mohammedan, Karm Illahi, inquired the price of the scimitar, which he greatly desired to possess.
“The price is thirty rupees,” was the reply of Shib Das.
“I thought that he would have said sixty or seventy at least,” thought the astonished Bál Mukand. “Surely the jewels in the hilt are worth much more than thirty rupees.”
Karm Illahi did not betray the joy which he really felt at hearing a much lower price asked than what he had expected. Again, slowly and carefully, he tried the blade and examined the hilt.
“Are all these jewels real?” he inquired of the seller.