"After a moment the same priest who had addressed me before bent his face once again over mine.
"'Listen, you Moslem son of a pig,' he hissed in my ear. 'Three more warnings will be given to you, and if these do not succeed in making you restore the Ganapati and the jewels then assuredly will you die. You know whence you stole it. Take back the idol to Ferishtapur, or go to the nethermost hell to which you belong.'
"With that he slapped my face again and again, with a slipper taken from his foot, and, writhing in my bonds, I was powerless to revenge, even at the cost of my life, this crowning and abominable insult.
"I must have swooned once more, for dawn was breaking when the craven villagers, satisfied that the robbers and murderers had departed, at last arrived upon the scene, and, loosening the thongs that bound me, re-awakened me to consciousness of my pitiful plight.
"My womenfolk and my three children were uninjured. I found them, cowering and terrified, in an inner chamber. But the infidels had searched every room in their quarters, scattering the contents of chests on the floors. And at sight of this vile desecration the iron of revenge even then entered into my soul.
"The eunuch lay dead in the vestibule leading to the harem. My other servants, who had happened to be outside the house at the time of the assault, had fled, and in the shame of their desertion never again dared to show their faces in my presence. The kotwal of the district made an investigation, but I held my own counsel, and spoke not one word about the Ganapati or the blue diamonds. So the outrage was set down as the work of dacoits, and although in point of fact nothing had been stolen I felt no call on me to disturb this finding of the magistrate.
"About a week later a new disaster overtook me. In the full light of day, when a breeze happened to be blowing, my standing crops were burned, and my fields left a blackened wilderness. By whose hand the fire-brand had been applied, no man could tell. An accident, or the first of the promised warnings?—this I asked myself, and I strove hard to believe that it was ill-luck and nothing more.
"Another full week passed, and I began to hope that the threatened persecution had indeed been abandoned. Recovered from my wounds and bruises, I was able now to be out and about again, endeavouring to restore order to my troubled affairs. One afternoon on my home-coming, I found the women lamenting with loud outcries over the body of my eldest son, a lad of seven years. Unseen by any of the household he had been knocked down on the road and crushed under the wheels of a heavy wagon that was travelling past.
"That night, when his poor little body was being made ready for burial, my elder wife, his mother, led me to the side of the bier. Uncovering the child's shoulder, she showed me a strange mark, as if branded upon the flesh by a hot iron. In the red, angry lines I had no difficulty in tracing the head of a bull, the sacred mark of Siva. I said nothing, and indeed commanded my wife to hold her peace.
"I knew now that this cruel calamity was indeed a warning from the accursed priesthood, who had not even scrupled to murder an innocent child so that they might wreak their vengeance on me or break my will.