“No,” he said, looking at me earnestly, “I shall never doubt you, Gil, and it is vain to resist. Every word you say, boy—every brave piece of opposition makes me more determined. You are proving more and more how worthy you are of the great honours I offer you. Come, you have fought enough. You are conquered. Give up your English sword, and take the tulwar I will place in your hands.”
“No,” I cried passionately. “I am the Company’s officer.”
“There is no Company,” he cried. “You have fought to crush down a conquered people; now fight to raise them up into a great nation; to make me into one of the greatest kings who ever ruled in Hindustan. It will be a great work.”
“I cannot,” I said passionately.
He turned a furious look upon me, and dashed away my hand.
“Ungrateful!” he cried fiercely.
“No,” I retorted. “I must do my duty to my Queen.”
“I tell you that you are mine now,” he cried furiously. “You must obey me. I am your maharajah and your king.”
“No; you are the great chief who has made me his prisoner, sir. I am English, and you will have to give account to my people for my life.”
“Pish! Your life! What are you among so many? I tell you my purpose is fixed. You are my officer, and—”