“A time may come when Chan Lody will be glad to forget that he has dared to insult his sovereign.”
Saying this, the youthful messenger turned upon his heel and was about to depart, but the Chan ordered him to be detained; then, by way of adding contempt to his refusal, the indignant Omrah commanded the dress of a menial to be brought, and filling a small bag with rupees, he charged the sultan’s envoy to deliver them, together with an old lean horse, to his master.
The young man departed; and meeting a shepherd at some short distance from Burhampoor, gave him the dress, the rupees, and the horse, bidding him deliver them to Chan Lody with this message:—that Prince Morad, son of the Emperor Shah Jehan, returned the gift designed for his royal parent, as the giver might one day need a beggar’s boon, since adversity was generally the lot of insolent nobles and disaffected subjects.
The shepherd, not considering himself bound by the laws of honour, and not being harassed by delicate scruples, appropriated the dress, rupees, and horse to his own purposes. What to one man was an offence, was to another a blessing.
Morad, galled by the indignity which had been so wantonly offered to him, proceeded towards his father’s encampment. On emerging from a thick forest upon an extensive plain, he saw a party at some distance advancing in the direction of the jungle. As they approached nearer, he perceived a palankeen accompanied by a numerous train of attendants. Before they had reached the path which led into the forest, a wild elephant started from the thicket, and rushed with a short shrill cry towards the approaching cavalcade. Terrified at the sight of such a huge foe, the attendants dispersed; and the bearers laying down the palankeen, fled in different directions. The elephant advanced with an aspect of deadly hostility towards the palankeen, which, as Morad perceived, from the curtains being closely drawn round it, contained a female; and, from the number of her attendants, it was evident that she was a female of rank. Unappalled by the danger, he darted forward; and being nearer the palankeen than the elephant, came up with the animal before it could reach its victim. Striking it with his sword just above the knee joint of the right leg behind, he at once disabled it, and diverted its attention from the object of attack. The huge creature immediately uttered a scream of agony, and turned upon Morad but unable to use the wounded limb, its movements were slow and embarrassed: Morad, therefore, had no difficulty in evading its assault by actively running behind it, and seizing his opportunity, he inflicted another wound on the other hind leg, which rendered the elephant unable to do mischief. It rolled upon the earth: and Morad calling upon his attendants to approach, took a matchlock, and placing the muzzle to the ear of the huge beast, sent a bullet into its brain. The animal uttered a short loud roar, and died.
Meanwhile the lady had quitted her palankeen, and stood before her youthful deliverer in the beaming lustre of her beauty. Her countenance was calm and unruffled, and her dark eye was fixed upon the dead elephant with an expression of resolute satisfaction that showed how little she had been disturbed by the past danger. She made a graceful salaam of acknowledgment; and, beckoning with an air of haughty command to her attendants, thanked her deliverer with a somewhat lofty courtesy, and, inviting him to return to her father’s palace, entered her palankeen. Morad, who had been struck with her beauty, learned in a few words that she was the daughter of Chan Lody. Notwithstanding the late discourtesies which had passed between them, and the insult offered to his parent, he determined to escort the lovely girl to her father’s dwelling. He had been charmed with the beautiful countenance and magnanimous bearing of the Chan’s daughter, and now felt really anxious that a better understanding should exist between her parent and his own. He therefore returned with her to Burhampoor. On reaching Chan Lody’s palace, the lady wished Morad to enter, in order that he might receive her father’s acknowledgments for the signal service he had rendered his child.
“Lady,” said the prince, “I am the son of Shah Jehan, to whom your father refuses a passage through his dominions. I cannot again enter the presence of one who has denied my parent and his sovereign so poor a boon.”
“Life, prince, is a valueless possession, unless we hold it on those terms which make it worth the prizing; and, believe me, I would rather mine were forfeited than be indebted for its preservation to a scion of Chan Lody’s foe. You, however, have conferred the obligation nobly, at the risk of your own; my courtesy, therefore, is the least I can offer you. Enter, and I will take upon me to secure for you my father’s hospitality, who could not but be happy to entertain his daughter’s deliverer.”
“I should be sorry to test the hospitality of a man whose heart would be at variance with his urbanity. For what I have done, the approbation of my own conscience is a sufficient reward; and your courtesy has cancelled whatever obligation you may have considered yourself under to me. But perhaps you will do me the favour to tell Chan Lody that he is indebted for his daughter’s life to the son of Shah Jehan.”
The lovely Jahanira a moment bent her piercing eye upon Morad, and said, in a tone of proud dignity, “Our acquaintance then will end here, since you refuse the hospitality which has been at least courteously offered; but I am your debtor, and shall, I trust, live to cancel my debt. Farewell!”