The princess retired from the royal tent with a joyous satisfaction arising from the assurance that her father’s life should be spared. She could not for a moment suppose that the man by whom she was evidently beloved, would allow himself long to entertain feelings of hostility towards her parent, however great the provocation. But she knew not the heart of him upon whose clemency she relied. Revenge is the most difficult passion of our nature to subdue; and its indulgence, among absolute princes, is one of the greatest evils of despotism.
Dawir Buxsh proceeded to Agra, accompanied by the Vizier and Mohabet Chan, and was hailed as their Emperor by the universal acclamation of the citizens. He was immediately seated upon the musnud, and a proclamation issued for the celebration of the royal nuptials with the daughter of Sultan Shariar.
On the following day the prisoner was summoned into the presence of his imperial nephew. He appeared with an emaciated countenance and a dejected mien. He had been long suffering from a dreadful malady, which had almost reduced him to a shadow. His daughter was present when her parent entered, and seeing his bitter dejection, she threw herself upon his bosom in a paroxysm of filial grief. She was gently removed by the attendants.
“What does the man deserve,” asked Dawir Buxsh sternly, turning towards the disconsolate prisoner, “who has rebelled against his lawful sovereign, cast him into prison, treated him with indignity, and exposed his life to jeopardy?”
Shariar was silent.
“Silence is the most eloquent confession of guilt,” continued the Emperor; “dost thou not deserve that death, which, had your ambitious arms succeeded, you had no doubt in reserve for me?”
“I am in your power,” replied Shariar firmly; “you can exercise that power as your discretion may prompt. I may be your victim, but nothing shall force me to disclose my intentions. I acted as I felt justified in acting; it has ended in failure, and I am prepared to pay the penalty.”
The indignation of the young Emperor was kindled, and he said fiercely, “Hoary traitors must not escape punishment, however nearly allied to the throne. I have promised to spare your life,” said he, “but the light of heaven shall never more beam upon those eyes.”
Saying this he rose, and gave the signal to a soldier, who advanced and seized the unhappy Shariar. His daughter, with a wild scream of agony, threw herself between the ruffian and his victim; but she was instantly torn from the embraces of her parent, who stood with patient resignation, awaiting the execution of his dreadful sentence. The soldier advanced, and plunged the point of his crease into both eyes of the unfortunate Sultan. With the blood trickling down his cheeks, mingled with tears, he implored to be once more permitted to embrace his child. She rushed into his arms.
“Tyrant!” said she, addressing the young Emperor, “this heart shall never be united with that of one whose hand is stained with my parent’s blood. I have no longer anything to render this world desirable, and quit it imprecating the malediction of a dying woman upon thy head!”