“Here you will enter,” said the foremost woman, pointing to one of the doors.
“Whither does it lead?”
“Into the bosom of the idol. There you will meet the god, there you will be advanced to endless honours, there one who adores you awaits your coming.”
“I am not to be deluded by these profane pretensions. Here let our conference end. Open, if I am to enter, and let me know at once the worst that is to befall me.”
A small silver bell was now rung by one of the women, when the door slid sideways through a groove and presented a narrow portal. The widow entered fearlessly and the door instantly closed behind her. She was at the bottom of a short flight of stone steps, at the top of which appeared a brilliant light. She ascended with desperate resolution, determined to ascertain at once the full extent of the mischief to which she was to become a victim. On gaining the top of the stairs, she entered a circular chamber, about six feet in diameter. The floor was covered with a beautiful Persian rug, and the light was so intense as for the moment to be extremely painful. It was reflected from an invisible source by means of reflectors composed of gems. The walls of the apartment were decorated with jewels of immense size and brilliancy, and gems were likewise strewed in heaps upon the floor. The treasure displayed was prodigious. It appeared like a scene of enchantment. The wealth of a universe seemed to be concentred in that one spot.
The widow had not long gazed upon the vast wealth before her, when a small door which she had not hitherto perceived, slowly opened and the old Brahmin entered. There was an expression of triumphant malignity in his deep dull eye. He closed the door carefully behind him. “Now,” said he, approaching his victim, “for the consummation at once of my pleasure and of my vengeance. Here resistance will be vain. My ministers are at hand. Those women who conducted you from the vault are within call, therefore be advised. Consent to be the bride of Somnat’s idol, in the bosom of which you now stand, and the wealth which you behold is at your disposal; refuse, and the idol’s curse will follow you through the world to the place of everlasting retribution.”
“You know not a woman’s resolution,” replied the young widow firmly; “I will never consent to the degradation you propose. Do your worst.”
“Be it so, then,” cried the Brahmin, and seizing a staff, he was about to strike a gong that hung from an iron bar which crossed the chamber about six feet from the floor, when a strange noise was heard without, and the image vibrated to its very foundation. The Brahmin trembled, and sank upon his knees. The beautiful Hindoo gazed on him in silence and without emotion. The noise increased, the walls of the chamber oscillated. With the calm confidence of speedy deliverance she looked forward to the result. Her companion was still upon his knees overcome by the stupefaction of terror.
Voices were now distinctly heard, and one smote on the widow’s ear like familiar music. It was Mahmood’s. He had entered the temple of Somnat just as the lovely widow had ascended into the hollow bosom of the image. Having seen his orders executed upon the colossal frame, a crowd of Brahmins, perceiving their god in jeopardy, rushed forward and besought the king’s attendants to intercede with their sovereign to spare it, offering Mahmood a large sum of money, to be instantly paid down, if he would desist from further mutilation. His officers endeavoured to persuade the king to accept the money, urging that as the destruction of one idol would not put an end to idolatry, it could not serve the cause of true religion entirely to destroy the image; but that the sum offered might be distributed among the faithful, which would be a meritorious act.
The monarch acknowledged there might be much truth in what they said, but, nevertheless, declared that he would not consent to a measure which would place him before posterity as Mahmood the “Idol-seller;” whereas it was the height of his ambition to be known as Mahmood “The Destroyer of Idols.”